Prologue - Three Distantly Related Moments

The Ocean of Endless Ice - Two weeks before the ERS Incident

It was cold around the Pinnacle.

Pinnacle. Subtle Eye scoffed under his breath as he watched the moonlight play over the gigantic tooth of rock. He’d heard the folk of the Ocean had a new name for it now. The Bloody Tip.

It was a fitting name, he had to admit. As the skiff he’d commandeered drew closer to the massive stone monolith he tilted his head back, running his eyes up the sides until he was staring almost straight up, his eyes fixed on the distant tip. The pale moonlight wasn’t enough to make out the color of the stone, but he could picture it in his mind well enough. Once a despondent, desolate grey that so well-fitted its surroundings, the tip of the Pinnacle was now a brilliant, bloody red that was slowly flowing downwards under the watchful eye of the Order. It would take time; months, perhaps even years. But eventually the entire piece of jagged stone would be a seamless, unbroken red.

He smiled, clutching his heavy cloak closer around his body as his breath formed a heavy mist in the air. He’d almost forgotten how cold the night could be, this close to the northern reaches. Part of him worried that perhaps he’d gotten soft during his stay in Equestria, but he dismissed the idea almost immediately. He’d been forced to conceal his identity, true, even strip the bands from his horn, but he’d never forgotten who he was. Never forgotten his purpose.

A purpose he was now fulfilling. Near the back of the skiff, one of his navigators—a minotaur—muttered something in his guttural tongue to his partner, hulking earth pony with a wretched scar across his face. Something was muttered back. The small skiff let out a creaking wail as the minotaur tugged the rudder to one side, changing its course. Ice crackled all around them, the vessel shuddering violently as it shifted, and the earth pony gave his companion a rebuke, smacking him across the shoulder.

Idiots, Subtle thought, sparing them a single glance that called hold to any attempts the minotaur was making at a retort. I still can hardly believe we’re working with these … impure cretins. He turned his attention back towards the front of the vessel, eyeing the lights that had been lit across the docks to guide their arrival. He could make out several hooded ponies waiting for his arrival, each as heavily wrapped as he was against the cold chill of the night.

Initiates, or perhaps chosen, he thought as the dock drew closer. A welcoming party, or just workers tending to the docks like dutiful brethren?

“Uh, sir?” the earth pony asked, and he turned to fix his gaze on the dark yellow stallion. “We’re approaching the docks.”

“I can see that,” Subtle said, his voice sounding raspy in his ears. Blast the cold, he truly had gone soft. He felt as if he was speaking with ice cubes in his chest. The earth pony navigator—one of the unlucky pirates who’d been rousted from his sleep to help bring the skiff in to deliver him—scowled.

“Yeah, well unless you step out of the way and let me tend to the sails, you’re going to be there a bit quicker than you’d like, too.”

Subtle glared at the pony, but he didn’t quiver. Apparently he’d been pushed to his limit for intimidation already that day.

Or perhaps I’ve gone soft, he thought as he stepped back, his horn carefully lighting with a dull-blue glow as he pulled his package with him, leaving room for the pirate to go about his duty. Maybe they don’t respect me as much because I have not earned it. He would have to do something about that before the trip was done.

The earth pony quickly stowed the sails and the skiff’s speed dropped, the cold, biting wind no longer sustaining it. It was up to the minotaur now, his chest bulging with muscles as he lifted a long pole and lowered it over the side, pushing off of the ice and moving the skiff closer to the docks.

The docks were close enough now that Subtle could see how new they were. The metal bracing shone in the pale light, silver flashes of moonlight moving up and down the framework as the skiff rose and fell. On the dock, horns began to light up, thick ropes snaking out towards the skiff like living things and wrapping themselves around the cleats. As one, the unicorns heaved, and the skiff slid right up to the dock, coming to a rest just before it would bump the side.

“Welcome, mage,” one of the unicorns said, lowering his hood and bowing deeply. There was a red, painted band around the base of his horn. A chosen, then. Behind him, the rest of the group did likewise, revealing their own faces to the harsh, biting chill of the wind and bowing. More red bands, but a few more red tips. Chosen and their initiates.

“Thank you,” Subtle said, lifting the thickly wrapped package he’d brought with him from the deck with a flick of his horn. “It’s good to be back.” He stepped off of the skiff onto the docks, glad to once again feel the solid ground beneath him. The metal was cold beneath his hooves, almost painfully so, but he didn’t care. He eyed the package he’d brought with him, carefully setting it down with a gentle tap that echoed across the docks. One of the initiates moved to pick it up, but he shook his head. “This is mine.”

No one objected.

He turned, looking back at the skiff that had brought him the last leg of his journey, gently bobbing up and down above the razor-sharp and ever moving field of ice that made up the majority of the Ocean, as well as gave it its full name. The constant crackling sound the ice chunks made as they ground against one another was even more pronounced here, where they met hard, unyielding rock to rub unceasingly against. Almost loud enough to cover up the faint snort of disdain the pirate navigator let out as he turned to tend to his skiff.

“Hold,” Subtle said, raising his hoof as he fixed his eyes on dark-yellow pony. Unlike the minotaur or the ponies on the dock, the navigator’s coat was bare to the elements, uncovered save for the single bandolier across his back that held his axe. It was a dare, a mad challenge to the Ocean that declared him better than others for his insanity.

“You there,” he said, raising his voice above the cracking of the ice. “Navigator.”

The stallion paused, one hoof on the skiff’s rigging. “Me?” he asked, turning and putting a hoof to his chest.

“Would I be speaking to anyone else?” Subtle asked. “Of course you. I have a task for you.”

The stallion scowled as he turned his body towards him, leaning up against the small skiff’s siderail. “Right, what is it?”

“I need you to deliver a message to the rest of your crew,” Subtle said, stoking the embers of anger that had been burning in his chest since he’d climbed onto the oaf’s boat.

“And that would be?”

“Respect.” A beam of jagged, vicious light erupted from his horn, slamming into the pirate’s chest and throwing him across the skiff. The stallion’s pained scream cut off abruptly as he hit the far gunwale, the skiff rocking back and forth under the force of the impact. Disappointingly enough, he hadn’t been pitched overboard by the impact, to fall down to the hungry ice below, where he’d be cut apart, frozen, and crushed as the ice pulled him downward just as it did anything else that fell into its grasp. But he did slump to the bottom of the boat, unconscious. It would have to do.

“Will my message be delivered?” Subtle called to the minotaur. He watched, his horn still glowing with vicious, purple light that seemed to bubble across its surface. The pirate gave him a slow, silent nod.

“Good,” he said, nodding to the initiates. One by one they released the knots that held the skiff against the dock, and one of them gave the vessel a small shove that sent it floating out over the ice. It bobbed there for a minute before the minotaur seemed to shake free of his shock. Carefully, he made his way towards the middle of the boat, stepping around his fallen comrade, and loosed the sails. Moments later, the skiff was skimming over the surface of the ice, on its way back to its berth.

“Was that wise, great one?” one of the chosen asked Subtle as he watched the skiff go.

“What? Letting him leave?” Subtle asked.

“No, nearly killing the navigator.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Subtle said, peering over the edge of the dock and wishing that the pirate had fallen. Not that there would have been much to see if he had. The ice would have swallowed him as thoroughly as it would swallow anything else that set hoof on its surface. “We’re going to crush them all in the end anyway, aren’t we?”

He turned and collected his package without waiting for a response. He had a duty to attend to, and it wasn’t on the docks dealing with disrespectful lesser beings.

The inside of the Pinnacle was in much better shape than when he’d last seen it . The last time he had been there, the floors had been charred, the windows shattered. Now the windows were sealed, the floor covered by a thick, luxurious carpet that made his hoofsteps all but silent, and the halls themselves were—despite the bitter, brutal cold beyond the outside walls—warm. He allowed himself a small feeling of pride as he strode through the keep, his hood down, the three red bands on his own horn worn openly for all to see. Initiates and chosen stepped out of his path, bowing their heads as he passed. He felt a faint sense of joy at being somewhere where once again he was respected by those who knew him.

Of all the things that had been improved during his time away, the means of egress to the keep’s peak was not one of them, and his good mood soon faded as he climbed stair after stair, circling the Pinnacle’s open interior again and again as he rose towards the top.

“Simpleminded griffons,” he muttered to himself as he completed yet another upwards circuit. “Would it have killed any of you to put in an elevator?” The featherbrained fools. From the outside, the Pinnacle was shaped like a unicorn’s horn, tall and peaked, but slightly bent, as if somepony had decided to form it into a scythe. It made for a striking fixture on the normally island-spotted Ocean, but the stability of the shape had also meant that when the accursed griffons had hollowed the inside out to make their fortress, they’d been able to make it incredibly open, wasting the whole lower three-quarters of the monument on a brainless, showy, impossible to heat, open area that served little purpose for higher beings.

Not that it saved them in the end, Subtle thought as he rounded yet another circuit and drew closer to the top, passing doors to rooms that served as quarters for the initiates, chosen or other members of the order. For all their pride, the Pinnacle is ours now, ours to do what we wish with it.

A shame that hadn’t involved filling in the inner space with a more useful design. But then, he reflected as he passed the final stair, stepping into the upper halls and more familiar architecture, they’d only owned the tower for a few years, and most of their group skilled at such things were involved with far more important projects. The Pinnacle could wait. As long as the Order achieved its ultimate goal, they could afford to wait.

He was entering the highest levels now, those reserved for only the most important of the Order. His own quarters were here, somewhere, along with those of the rest of the Order’s mages. He’d go to those later; both to relax, and to finally, at last, take a well-earned rest. He’d pushed himself hard on the way here. Maybe once he was done, once he’d delivered his report, he could have the initiates warm him a bath. A hot bath. It would feel delightful.

He rounded the corner of the hall and before him stood the entrance to the highest residence of the structure. A residence that had once been the office of the griffons that had owned the place, before they’d been culled. Now, it was the office of the leader of their cause, the most revered unicorn in existence.

Lord Sagis.

There were guards outside his door, unicorn bruins both, openly glaring at him with eyes that implied suspicion, even distrust. Subtle couldn’t hold it against them. One of the two let out a snort, her body twisting as it bulked up, muscle and bone snapping and popping as she grew.

“What do you want, mage?” she asked, her tone harsh. He refused to be impressed.

“I’m here to speak with Lord Sagis,” he replied, keeping his tone clipped. Bruins were always testy. Probably on account of the magic-warping device on their horns that made them what they were. They’d offered him one of the contraptions once. He’d turned it down without even trying it. I like my magic the way it is, thank you.

“It’s late,” the bruin said, her eyes narrowing.

“He’s expecting me,” Subtle said, shaking his head ever so slightly. “I bring news he needs to hear.”

The two bruins glanced at one another and the first nodded. “Very well,” she said, her cream-colored coat sagging as her body deflated, before catching up and snapping tight over her frame once more. Her substantially larger-than-average frame, Subtle noted. Was she channeling just a little magic to keep herself that size, or had she always been a larger pony?

Not worth asking, he thought as he approached the doors. He lit his horn just as his nose was about to touch the aged wood, pushing both doors open in front of him and removing his package from his back.

Lord Sagis’s study was truly one of the most ornate rooms in the entire Pinnacle. The carpet underhoof was a deep red—not unlike the red coloring the surface of the Pinnacle, though deeper and more royal. The woodwork along the walls was exquisite, molded by some of the best shapers among them. Almost a third of the circular room’s wall was taken up by a massive window that looked out over the Ocean, an impressive view separated from the harsh elements only by thick, heavy, triple-paned glass and a checkerboard framework that held it in place. A map of the entire Ocean stretched along one wall, a tapestry made specially so that it could be manipulated by magic. Subtle allowed himself a moment’s pride as he looked at the markers and notes scattered all across it, marking the location of forces spread throughout the barren wasteland that made up the Ocean of Endless Ice. You are part of something great, he reminded himself.

Lord Sagis himself sat behind a titanic wooden desk that was resplendent in artifacts of conquest as well as bits of information gathered from all across the Ocean. Despite the fact that he had likely been woken upon Subtle’s arrival, nothing about him suggested that he was in any way put off by the lateness of the hour, nor the unexpectedness of Subtle’s visit. His grey eyes locked with Subtle’s, and they seemed to bore into his soul, searching through his mind as if determining whether or not Subtle’s appearance had been worth his preparing for. Then they flickered to the package at Subtle’s side, and he could see the slight creasing of his leader’s brow as he looked at it, then at Subtle, and then back at the package.

“Welcome home, Subtle Eye,” Lord Sagis said at last, beckoning him forward. “You’ve been away from us for quite some time.”

“Yes, Lord Sagis, I have,” Subtle said, taking a few steps towards the desk and offering a small bow of subservience.

“Six-hundred and seventy-three days, to be exact,” Lord Sagis said. There was a calm to his voice, but Subtle knew how much control the dark-red unicorn had over it. Had Sagis not been a unicorn, surely his cutie mark would have been for his talent with oration.

“Yes, Lord Sagis,” Subtle said when his ruler’s words didn’t continue further. There was a slight rustle, and he looked up to see Sagis leaning forward, flicking his blue mane away from his dark-red horn and lighting it with a dull grey glow.

“And so I must ask myself,” the unicorn lord said slowly, a single piece of paper floating up in front of him. “Why have you come back now when your orders were to remain in Equestria for three years in total?” It was a question, but Subtle could see the look in Lord Sagis’s eyes. It wasn’t one he was supposed to answer.

“I must then conclude,” Lord Sagis continued, sinking back in his seat, “that you have found something so vital to our cause that you would abandon your subterfuge and observations in order to bring it here immediately.” The grey eyes shifted once more to the package, still gently floating in the air. “So show me, my trusted Eye, what you have found.”

“With pleasure, my lord.” Subtle floated the heavily wrapped object forward, spacing it between them. Then, with slow, deliberate flicks of his horn, he began to unwrap it.

“I recognized it at once, from the ancient inscriptions,” he said as the heavy cloth began to fall away, dropping to the floor in shapeless heaps. “The magic in it is faint, but still alive. The poor fool who owned the store had no idea what he was in possession of. Lord Sagis ...” he said, pausing as he reached the last layer of cloth. “I have found the key.”

The last piece of protective covering slipped away, and Subtle couldn’t help but feel a thrill of excitement course through his body as he beheld the object he’d so carefully guarded over the course of his journey. It hung in the air, floating in the gentle grip of his telekinetic magic, light shining off of its crystalline sides. It was shaped like a cone, one about two feet long, with smoothed, rounded edges that had been polished to a faint sheen. The surface was equally smooth, save for the sharp etchings of arcane symbols that had been carved across the exterior face, etchings that even he, a senior mage of the Order, had been unable to decipher.

The cone itself was partially hollow, the flat side open to the air with a single, carefully carved bar extending across it that was clearly meant to serve as a grip. Not that he, as a unicorn, would need such a thing. Clearly that was a part of the design that had been deemed necessary in the event that lesser races found the key, but such precautions would hopefully prove unnecessary now.

The key sparkled under the light as he rotated it, its core pulsing with faint, blue light. He had no idea what it was made out of, although judging from the shape it was in after all these years, it was clearly a very tough material. The crystal was clear around the edges, like glass, but as one looked deeper it changed, darkening into a brilliant, neon blue that radiated out from the center like lightning that had been frozen in time. There was a faint darkness to the very center, a backing of deep black that vanished as soon as you tried to get a better look at it, but was always there, just behind the blue.

Lord Sagis let out a faint gasp, and Subtle felt a brief glimmer of satisfaction as the unicorn gently wrapped his own grey magic around the key and pulled it across his desk. That’s right, my lord. We have it at last.

“How?” Lord Sagis asked, looking from the key to him and then back again.

“The storekeeper would not say how he came into possession of it, my lord,” he said, bowing his head slightly. “Nor was he aware of what he held, the power that was in it. Once I felt the magic inside of it, however … I knew.”

“Yes,” Lord Sagis said, gently setting the key on his desk. “It matches the inscriptions perfectly.” He tapped his horn against its surface, grey light spilling over the crystalline skin before fading away. Inside the key, the blue brightened briefly. “And just as they said,” Sagis said with a smile. “It needs magic.”

“Once charged …” Subtle intoned.

“... the vault shall open, its prisoner set free,” Lord Sagis finished, nodding. The unicorn’s eyes almost seemed to glow with anticipation. “I assume that you have made a detailed study of the key on your journey?”

“Indeed, my lord,” Subtle said, stepping forward and lowering his horn to tap against the crystal surface. “The bindings inside are complex beyond anything that I have ever seen or felt, but I was able to glean a faint knowledge of its operations. It is, as the inscriptions say, a key, but it requires great power to function.”

Lord Sagis nodded. “Great power indeed will be needed to break the seal over our master’s prison.” He smiled as Subtle’s eyes widened. “That is correct, Subtle. We have found it at last. Just as the inscriptions said, deep within the ruins.”

“Then my lord, all we need do is charge it,” Subtle said, trying to conceal his glee, but failing to keep a faint quiver of excitement from his voice. “My research shows that it will take time to charge the key to its full potential and open the prison. If left on its own, it will never gather enough.” He looked Lord Sagis in the eyes. “It will take daily sacrifice of power from each of us to bring it to full capacity.”

“Then it will have it,” Lord Sagis said, his eyes locking on the stone once more. “Our numbers are strong, and there are many who would lend their power for chance to win our king’s favor. Those at the excavation site will need a new task once the main chamber is cleared. Charging the key for our master’s return will be the highest of honors. I myself shall contribute during my visits there.” His grey eyes flicked back to Subtle. “You have done well, brother.”

Subtle smiled. “Pardon, Lord Sagis, but the key is not all I have brought.” He flicked the corner of his robe up, revealing the saddlebags tied at his side. “There is … more.” Lord Sagis leaned forward, but said nothing.

“I do not know what this is, my lord,” Subtle said, flipping the bag open with a quick twist of his magic. “But it was with the key.” A smaller piece of crystal floated out, identical in type and coloration to the key, as if they had both been hewn from the same material. “It even echoes with a similar magic,” he said as he spun the piece gently in the air. “But it feels … incomplete, as if it is a part of a whole.”

“And it has not been lost on you that it looks like—?”

“A portion of a key such as the one sitting before you, my lord?” Subtle said, dropping his head slightly to convey his respect despite the interruption. “No, it has not.” He floated the small piece over to the desk, setting it next to its larger sibling. The similarity was readily apparent. The new piece was roughly half as long and a sixth the size, but only because where the key was a full cone. This, on the other hoof ...

“It’s a third of another key,” he said. “For what purpose I do not know. The magic contained within it is weak and fragmented, and not at all similar in purpose to the key.”

“I have seen the vault myself,” Lord Sagis said. “The complete key is the one we have needed. This … smaller piece must serve some other purpose.”

“Incomplete as it is, my lord, I have no way of telling what that may be,” Subtle said, lowering his head in disappointment. “At most I could detect faint glimmers of what felt like a linking enchantment, but broken and fragmented, like the piece itself. Perhaps if we were to find the other two pieces …”

“In good time, my brother.” Lord Sagis stood, wrapping the key in the shimmering glow of his magic. “We have the key, and that is what we needed.” He smiled, not the warm smile of joy or caring, but a smile as cold as the Ocean, the smile of someone who was at last seeing their goal of decades come within reach. Subtle knew that his own expression was mirroring Lord Sagis’s, after all, as the one who had found the key, he would surely share in the glory when the vault finally opened.

“Get some rest, brother,” Lord Sagis said, looking at him with a hunger in his eyes, a hunger that all in the Order knew and understood. “Tomorrow you and I will leave for the vault—for a short time, as we are needed here, but so that you can see with your own eyes the majesty of the future you have assured us. And you shall share in the honor of being the first to begin charging the key, to see the beginnings of our completion, before returning here with me to aid in our preparations in making things fit for the return.” The key began to float in the air, point down, spinning as they both looked at it.

“Soon, King Sombra will rise to lead the Order once again.”

Turuncu Desert - Week of the ERS Incident

“No, no, no, no,” Dusty said, shaking his head as he looked down at his notes once again. “It has to be here, it has to be!” He spread his hooves across the map of the desert once more, eyeing the lines he’d sketched across it, the notes he’d written in the margins. “The terrain has changed, but it has to be here!”

It’d better be here, he finished mentally as he glanced down at his notebook once more. There aren’t many options left, and if you don’t find something to report soon, funding will be— He didn’t finish the train of thought. He knew it well enough.

He sank back on the stool with a groan, trying not to blink as sweat drizzled into his eyes. Even inside of the tents that they’d managed to set up, the heat of the desert was almost unbearable. I don’t know how Stal puts up with this, he thought as he wiped a foreleg across his muzzle. It’s almost unbearable. He dropped off of the stool, his hooves making soft whispers against the tarp-covered sand as he trotted to his saddlebags by the tent wall and retrieved his canteen.

And I thought the badlands could get hot, he thought as he threw his head back, emptying the last of his canteen into his dry mouth. This place certainly has it beat sometimes.

He dropped the now empty canteen around his neck as a reminder to fill it later and trotted back to small, collapsible table that filled the center of the tent. It’s got to be here, he thought as he picked up his pencil in his lips and drew another circle around the dig’s current location. It has to be. Of all the places left after the last four years, this one has to be it.

It would also probably be the last one unless he and Stal could convince their backers to give them another grant. And without any evidence to show for the last three weeks of digging … There would be no chance that. The Canterlot Museum and the Caretaker Clan were both eager to fund expeditions, but one that went on as long as this ...

I refuse to give up, he thought, shaking his head as he looked back at his notes. It has to be somewhere in this valley. It has to be! There was little to be had on the subject of their search, but he and Stal had studied every scrap of information they could find. It had to be somewhere in the valley.

Just finding out where was the hard part. The Turuncu Desert was tens of thousands of square miles, a large swath of heat and sand that straddled the gap between the territory claimed by the Griffon Empire in the north and that of the Plainslands to the south.

So much ground to cover, he thought as he stared down at the map. Even just in this one valley. It’d taken Stal and the rest of her search team three days just to narrow down where they were to this close. Now they were on their fifth—sixth? No. He shook his head. Five locations so far. Which made this the sixth. And last.

He dropped his pencil to the table and pushed his stool back, his long mane brushing his shoulders as he trotted across the tent towards the exit. Maybe if we put up another rare collectible as collateral, he thought as he brushed aside the cloth over the entryway, squinting as the piercing desert sun bit into his eyes. But then I really don’t want to do that to Stal. It would hardly be fair to her. They’d already given up so much in pursuit of this. To ask her to give up another relic of her family’s history to finance the expedition … No, he couldn’t do that. Selling some of his own personal finds to help had been hard enough.

He couldn’t ask his wife to do that. He knew how much her heritage meant to her. As important as the dig was to them both, he wasn’t about to even suggest that she sell away her own heirlooms to continue.

His eyes adjusted at last, and he stepped out of the tent, his hooves sinking into the hot sand. Around him was a large circle of similar tents, all for various members of their expedition. A few varied in size here or there—the tents for the diamond dog workers, for instance, were very low to the ground—but for the most part, each was cut from the same, dull cloth.

We could really use some color, he thought as he began trotting through the tents, his canteen bouncing against his chest. It was odd to walk through the collection of tan-colored dwellings and have the only flash of color be his own orange coat. Maybe we should try and convince the museum to get its gear from the Plainslands. That would certainly liven things up a bit. He’d seen the trade caravans that crossed the desert from the zebra nation before, even ridden with them a few times, and the bright, cheery colors of their tents had always seemed warm. It’d be nice to get some variety.

He stepped out of the shadow of the tents, the ground beginning to slope slightly beneath his hooves as the valley opened up in front of him. A vast, open bowl of rock, dirt, and sand, uninhabited for more than a thousand years, if it ever had been at all.

No, he reminded himself as he started down the winding path that the team had worn into the dirt over the last few days. Not if. When. Someone had been here, he was certain of it.

Though they’d chosen to camp on the side of the valley to avoid the worst of the winds that could often sweep through it at night, there were still a few temporary structures near the massive excavation that made up the dig site. Several hastily erected cloth roofs served as shade for workers that were on break, and a few large patches of upturned sand marked the location of the team’s water supply, buried to help keep it cool as well as protect it from the frequent storms that swept the area. Once a container was empty, it was easy enough to hoist free of the sand for its journey to the nearest water supply, and the diamond dogs were more than willing to rebury containers as they arrived. Something about water that had been underground tasting better.

Sand swirled across the path in front of him as a griffon dropped from the sky, her wings kicking up clouds of dirt as she swept them together and came in for a landing. Dusty covered his face with one hoof, holding back the worst of the dirt ... but still feeling a good portion of it settle across his coat and mane. “Hey, Stal,” he said, dropping his hoof as the dust cleared.

“Hey, baby,” she responded, stepping up to him and giving his light blue mane a quick ruffle to shake the dust out. “Looks like you’re living up to your name today.”

“As opposed to every day?” he asked, giving his wife a grin as she brushed her talons across his cheek.

“Mmm, right,” she said, smiling and clicking her beak shut. “Just doing my job, that’s all. You coming down to check the dig?”

He nodded. “I checked the map again. We’ve got to be close, Stal. We are close. So close. There’s nowhere else it can be.”

She clicked her beak again. “I know we are, baby. This is it. We’re going to find it. One way or another.”

“Not if we run out of funding,” he said, shaking his head as he resumed his walk down the trail.

“We won’t,” she said, shaking her head as she followed him, her wings folded along her sides. “I promise. We’re going to find this together.”

“But if we don’t find anything by the end of this week—” he began.

“Then the clan is willing to purchase several of our lyres as collateral in order to continue this expedition.”

He stopped, almost stumbling over his own hooves as his jaw dropped. “Your lyres? Stal, you—”

“Dusty!” Stal said, turning and locking her red eyes with his, the light, golden feathers of her ruff flaring as she stared at him. Then her look softened, along with her tone. “They’re our lyres, remember? Ever since the day I married you. And this expedition? Ours too. And we’re going to finish it, all right? Besides,” she said, giving him a soft smirk as she rested a talon on his shoulder. “You already sold some of our stuff. We can live without it. Now,” she said, cocking her head in the direction of the dig. “What do you say we go see if we can find anything before we have to set up for another storm?”

He smiled, and they leaned towards each other, his cheek pressing lightly against hers. “Thanks, Stal. I love you.”

“Yeah, I know,” she said as they pulled apart. “I love you too, you starry-eyed ground-bounder. And we’re going to finish this expedition and find that city once and for all, even if we have to do the rest of the digging on our own.”

She turned towards the dig site, her tufted tail doing the slow, back and forth lash that she made when she was feeling content. He smiled as he caught up to her and bumped his shoulder into hers, and she let out a chuckle. Then something she said caught up with him and he paused.

“Wait, another storm?”

She nodded. “Yep, that’s what I was out checking out. We’ve got another light storm coming in. A big one.”

“Oh, by the moon,” he said, shaking his head. “Again?” He let out a sigh as the path began to wind back and forth down a particularly steep patch of ground.

“Yeah, again,” Stal said, walking alongside him on the path, though he knew she could have easily spread her wings and glided to the bottom of the trail. “It’s a few hours out and coming from the north, so we’ll have time to close everything up and settle in. But it’s a big one.”

“And the third one this week,” he added, kicking a small rock from the path. “We keep getting forced to hold up every time one of these comes through and—”

“Dusty?” Stal said in the tone that let him know he was overreacting. “Just relax, okay? Light storms are a part of life here in the Turuncu. Besides …” she said, giving him a sly, predatory look. “I think you and I can make the most of our time stuck in a tent together, don’t you? Ben ... enerjik hissediyorum. Sen benim anlamı olsun?”

It took him a second to switch from his native equestrian to griffon, but then he caught the meaning, and he swallowed. “Oh!”

She let out a laugh. “I never get tired of that, Dusty. Now hurry up, and let’s get what we can done before we have to set up for the light storm.”

They moved down the trail, Dusty eyeing the small patch of orange glass that had been left on the sand after the last light storm. We should probably take that with us when we leave, he thought. I hear that light storm glass can fetch good money with the right buyers. There were even a few ancient sculptures made of the stuff in the Caretaker Clan’s museums, small figurines that had been carved thousands of years ago. They were actually quite pretty … when you didn’t take into account the terrifying force that made them.

Light storms. A naturally occurring phenomenon of the Turuncu Desert, unique—as far as anyone knew—to there of all the known lands. A swirling storm of sand that had grown large enough for the slight magical properties of the grit that made it to interact with the light of the sun itself, distorting and pulling together the very light in the air into powerful, superheated beams. He could still remember the first light storm he’d sat through, concealed beneath a tent that had been wrapped in a specially made, heat-resistant metal. The same type of metal sheets they were passing now as they drew closer to the dig, stacked nearby in case they’d needed them.

That had been the same trip where he’d met Stal, actually, though at that point he hadn’t spoken to her yet or singled her out from among her peers. But he could still remember their guide, an old zebra, trundling over to the door and asking if he wanted a peek. And he could remember the sense of fascination as he’d said yes, and the door had been pulled back to reveal a world of swirling, howling sands lit by a dull orange light. Light that was brighter in some areas and darker in others, constantly shifting.

And then the light had banded together, the world outside the door going dark everywhere save the beam of bright, yellow-white energy that hit the ground with a sound almost like a thunderbolt, sweeping across the horizon before fading.

The guide had closed the door, but not before he’d seen dozens of other, similar strikes flashing off in the distance, some rapid and quick, like running hoofbeats, and other long, like heavy blows, each with their own patch of darkness around them as they sucked up almost all nearby light and let it free in a blaze of brilliant, magical energy.

It was amazing, but at the same time, terrifying. A force of nature, completely untamed, and more wild than any storm he’d ever seen.

And now they seemed to be right in the middle of every storm that the desert formed. They’d broken camp several times a week since they’d started, covering everyone’s tents and their wagons in the heat-resistant metal sheeting. Then, it was just a matter of waiting.

“We’ve had a lot of them, now that I think about it,” Stal said, tearing him from his thoughts. It took him a moment to catch up.

“What, the light storms?” he asked.

She nodded, her short beak clicking open and shut as she looked at the dig site. “Yeah. Like you said, we’ve had two already this week. This’ll be three. Must be a bad luck valley.”

He gave her a look. “I thought you didn’t believe in luck?”

“Just not bad luck, baby,” she said, winking. Then she caught sight of something. “Hello, what’s that?” she asked, her eyes narrowing as she stared at the excavation site.

“What’s what?” he asked. He followed her gaze, but they weren’t close enough to the dig for him to make out what had caught her eyes. He could see that there seemed to be a bit of activity at the site, but past that, his vision wasn’t sharp enough to make out any details.

“Looks like something’s up,” Stal said, shading her eyes from the sun with one set of talons and leaning forward. “They’re sending a runner our way. Let’s fly the rest of the trail.”

She spread her wings and lifted off without waiting for his response, dust and sand swirling around them. He reared back, spreading his front legs wide as she wrapped her forelegs under them, lifting him from the ground with powerful wingbeats. The desert sped by underneath him, and in moments they were close enough that he could make out the grey diamond dog running towards them.

“You know, I could have just run,” he said as Stal settled her wings in a glide.

“I know,” she said. “But I can fly, and it’s a good excuse to hold onto my grounder. Plus,” she said with a mischievous tone. “Now I can ask if it really was you that ate my dessert last night, and drop you into a sand drift if I don’t like how long it takes you to answer.”

“Um…”

Thankfully, he was saved from having to think of an answer by the approach of the diamond dog. Stal swooped low to the ground, dropping Dusty on his hooves and then landing next to him.

“Boss! Boss!” the diamond dog called, waving his arms. His name was Coal, if Dusty was remembering right. One of the diggers he’d hired. “We found something! In the pit!”

Dusty felt his heart leap, and he looked at Stal, his eyes wide. “What kind of something?” he asked, unable—and unwilling—to keep the anticipation from his voice.

“Stone, boss!” Coal said, grinning wide. “Carved stone! Not natural.”

Dusty only had to glance at Stal and then he was sprinting, shooting past Coal over the desert as he headed for the dig. A shadow swept past him; Stal taking to the sky and flying straight for the excavation.

This could be it, he thought as he reached the edge of the dig site, his hooves pounding down the wooden ramps that hung over the side. He could see the huge crowd of workers—mostly diamond dogs, but there were one or two griffons and ponies mixed in—all clamoring around something at the far end of the pit. He skipped the last two ramps, jumping from the side to land in the base of the dig even as Stal dropped from the sky with a yell to clear the way. The crowd parted for both of them, her landing, him coming to a skidding halt near the middle of what had everyone so excited.

And then he saw it. An ancient, weathered, pyramid-shaped stone poking out of the earth. For a moment he just stared at it, his jaw hanging open. There was no doubt about it, the corners were far too regular to be natural. It had been made by someone.

“All right!” he called as Stal looked at him, a huge, excited smile stretching across her face. “Listen up! We’ve only got a few hours until another light storm hits us, so I want to work fast! We need to get this excavated—carefully—and covered before the storm hits! We’ll need to get all the dirt out of the way as fast as we can, but take care that you don’t run into any other artifacts. Diamond dogs,” he said, turning to look at the eclectic group of hired diggers. “Full magic. I don’t want to run the risk of damaging anything. You’ll get a paid rest day tomorrow.” A few of the dogs cheered at that, turning and slapping paws with wide, toothy grins. A couple of them edged forward, flexing their massive, long forearms in anticipation of the dig.

“The rest of you,” Dusty said, looking at the few griffons and ponies. “Either will assist myself or Stal with doing the close up excavation work and examination, or helping the diggers check for other artifacts!” He clapped his hooves together, barely able to keep his excited grin from stretching so far it hurt.

“All right, everyone!” he yelled as Stal let out a whopping screech. “Let’s do this!”

The next hour passed quickly as the various parts of the dig went to work. Diamond dogs used their magic to feel the earth around the relic, scooping away huge swaths of soil and sand with mighty thrusts of their paws that left little more than a thin layer over the artifact itself. Then he and Stal, along with their assistants, would go to work, clearing away what was left with soft brushes and careful taps with rubber picks. Gradually the size and shape of the object became apparent as they dug lower and lower.

It was an obelisk, its four sides reaching towards the sky and capped in the pyramidal carving they’d uncovered first. As they dug downward the stone became better and better preserved, its sand-blasted surface slowly taking on shapes that resolved themselves into carvings, ancient glyphs that sent chills running down his spine. He glanced over at Stal and found her as amazed and excited as he was. This … This was the thrill of discovering legend, in finding that which had been lost to the sands of time. They were deep enough now that no one could have set eyes on the obelisk for more than a millennia. Maybe longer.

Then at last, the entire obelisk was excavated, and they stood back in awe as the first trickling of wind that marked the incoming storm began to build around them. The stone was massive, easily the height of a two-story building just from the tip to the base. The weathering had damaged the upward glyphs to the extent that they would likely need months of intense study to decipher them, but the bottom layers were intact enough to read, and he glanced over at Stal as she examined each of them.

“They all say the same thing,” she said eventually, breaking the silence that had fallen over the dig. “It’s old, Dusty. Really old. Glyphs like these …” She shook her head. “They haven’t been used in almost two-thousand years. I can’t even tell what some of them mean.”

“But these look familiar,” she said, tapping a claw against some of the lowest glyphs. Then she grinned. ‘And you’re going to like what it says.”

“What does it say?” he asked, wishing for a moment that he was as good with the ancient markings as she was.

“I don’t think funding is going to be a problem anymore, baby,” she said, clicking her beak.

“What does it say?” he asked again, stepping forward.

“We definitely don’t have to sell the lyres, that’s for sure,” she said, giving him a maddening grin. “We might have to worry about how big a house we want though, and what we want the plaque in the museum to say.”

“Stal!” he said, throwing his hooves up. “Stop teasing! Just tell me! This is it, right? What we’ve been searching for?”

She smiled, and then, ever so slowly, dropped her claw to the highest of the glyphs. Dusty leaned forward as she opened her beak.

“I’ll read this last part,” she said, moving her claw down the glyphs. “It says—roughly—‘follow this path, never changing course, until ten leagues pass south, and you shall find entrance to …” She paused, winking at him, and he let out a strangled squeak.

“Necropolis,” she said, grinning as he opened his mouth to let out a wild whoop. “We did it, baby. We’ve found the map to the legend. We’ve found—” she said, raising her voice as the team began to cheer, “—the guidepost to the legendary city of the dead!”

As the dig erupted in chaos, sapients yelling and congratulating one another, Stal looked at his dumbfounded expression and wrapped him in a hug. “We did it, Dusty,” she said, her eyes misty. “After ten years of looking, we’ve finally found it.” A whole city, lost to history. An archaeologist's dream.

And at long last, they’d found it.

Canterlot - Two weeks after the ERS Incident

Hunter shifted his weight as Princess Luna and Steel continued to talk about the state of the team, trying to find a more comfortable position without making it too obvious that he was doing so. Both the captain of the Dusk Guard and the Diarch of the Night had been going back and forth over budget proposals for the last ten minutes, and since none of it really had much to do with him, he’d started to zone out pretty quick.

Still, at least the Princess’s office was pretty nice, and there was plenty to look at. Like the paintings hanging on the wall, including the one of Derpy and Dinky. That had left him gobsmacked the first time he’d seen it. Luna might have been somewhat aloof by reputation, but judging by her paintings, she was doing well at reintegrating herself with the populace.

The same could be said for us, he thought as he turned his attention to the paintings once more. Each member of the team, picked from a selection that Luna put together in the first place. Did she know what the team would be doing for all of us?

Luna sat back with a satisfied look on her face, a folder flipping shut in front of her, and Hunter mentally shrugged. Looks like they wrapped that up. Good, he thought as Luna opened her mouth to speak. Maybe now we’ll talk about something that I can be involved in. Otherwise, I’m just wasting breath here.

“Now that we have concluded that business,” the Princess said, her voice somehow filling the room without being overbearing. “There is one last item we must discuss. One I would like both of your opinions on.”

Good.

“You are both familiar with the train hijacking that occurred at Northgait last week?”

Nevermind, not good!

“We are,” Steel said, giving Hunter a quick glare when he failed to react.

He swallowed, giving his head a slight shake. “Yeah, I am,” he said.

“Good,” the Princess replied with a shake of her mane. “Then you know that it was caused by one fugitive from justice you are both familiar with: Blade Sunchaser.”

Oh boy. Not good.

“I need your opinions as those who have fought against her,” Luna continued, oblivious to his train of thought. “In light of her escape, we must make the grievances against her known, and contact our allies in the event that she attempts to leave the territory of the Ocean of Endless Ice.”

“Well—” Steel began.

“Actually, that won’t be necessary, your highness,” Hunter said, cutting him off. I’m going to pay for this one. For a moment the pair both looked at him, and he swallowed. Oh yeah, this might have been a blue.

“Lieutenant Hunter—” Steel began, only for Luna to cut him off.

“Explain,” she said, fixing a level stare at him.

“Well,” he said, taking a deep breath. “I don’t want to aggro anyone, but—”

Outside the door to Luna’s personal study, the two Night Guard assigned outside her doors jumped as the Royal Canterlot voice roared out from inside the room, rattling the doors with its volume and shoving both the pair stumbling forward.

“Thou didst what!?”

Chapter 1 - Northgait

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Northwest Rail Line - Six days after the ERS incident

This is unfair, Sergeant Nimbus thought as he turned his head to look out the window once again. Completely unfair.

The train window began to fog as his breath hit it, the cool glass first growing blurred, then white as the chill outside the window turned the wet coating to frost. As close to the tail end of the summer as it was further south in Equestria, this far north it was already cold enough that there was a thick blanket of snow outside the train, a white carpet that covered the landscape like frosting on a cake.

Cake, he thought as he shifted his wings. I won’t be seeing any of that for a while. He winced as one of his feathers caught against his armor, and he glared down at the golden-colored plate, as if it were the cause of all his troubles. It wasn’t though. No, his commanding officer had made it very clear what the source of his problems was.

“The problem is you, Nimbus,” he’d said, shaking his head. “Not the Captain of the Dusk Guard, not the specialist who called in for support, but you. And until you’ve figured that out, you’re going to be on ice-duty.”

Ice-duty. One of the dullest, most mind-numbing and dreary of all the duties that could be assigned a member of the Guard. And one of the coldest, most hoof-numbing as well. Assigned only when a pony’s number came up—or when the pony in question had done something particularly stupid. At least, that’s what he’d been told. I never expected that I’d be the one being told I’d done something exceptionally stupid. He gave his head a small shake and then fixed his eyes back on the snow-covered landscape outside the window. It’s all that stupid little pegasus filly’s fault, crying to her commander like that.

And now I’m going to spend the next few months in Northgait. Northgait! He wanted to growl as he thought about it. Right into the winter, too. He turned his head to the side, taking a quick look at the rest of the Guard that filled the passenger car. A few of them looked excited, but they were all young, new to the experience. Most of the car’s passengers looked resigned to their fate, and even a few looked as morose as he did. They were the ones who knew what this new duty meant.

Northgait … He scowled again, shifting his wings as he watched the white landscape flash by beneath grey skies. The furthest, most northern habitation in all of Equestria, if indeed the small fortification could be called a habitation. Nestled in the narrow Diamond Ridge Pass, the lone gap through the Western Crystal Mountains and the last stop on the North-West Line, Northgait was little more than a large wall that spanned the gap, an official marker of the line that was Equestria’s northern border. Past the great gate of the fort, well … anything past that was lawless territory. An untamed, ice-encrusted wilderness known, fittingly enough, as the Ocean of Endless Ice.

Untamed, but not unoccupied. There were whole villages up there, though Nimbus couldn’t imagine who would want live up there. The place was unclaimed by any nation, a lawless wild zone where criminal and adventurer alike was welcomed. Ponies, griffons, minotaurs … anyone was welcome as long as you could take care of yourself and eke out a living on the ice, which for most meant harvesting the strange ethereal crystals that gave the Ocean its unique properties and trading them for most of the basic necessities of life.

That was what was in the rail car behind him. In addition to standing guard over the border for the next few months, his job at Northgait was going to involve overseeing the slow, steady amounts of trade from the periodic caravans that were sent from the various towns.

It wasn’t worth it, in his opinion. The Ocean never thawed, never saw spring, summer, or any kind of wealth. It did see dangerous storms, mortal peril, and groups of marauding pirates though. Nimbus shook his head. No paycheck was worth dealing with pirates.

Then again, just because it was other sapients working for that paycheck didn’t mean he couldn’t cut himself into a bit of it. He glanced around the compartment, eyeing the various other ponies who looked less than happy to be there, and made a mental note of each of them.

This job might be as cold as a night without the moon, he thought as the forward door to the carriage opened, a griffon with black-and-tan feathers passing through on her way to the restroom in the last car. But if I can make the right “friends,” I still might be able to make this a little more bearable. After all, one of his new duties would be customs inspections. Surely if he could get a few other like minded individuals—ones that like him were just here as a scapegoat for somepony else’s failings—then it wouldn’t be hard to introduce a few new “steps” to the current procedure. His scowl slipped away for a moment as he considered the possibilities. Surely there had to be something that those crazy sapients in the Ocean wanted to slide past Equestria’s borders.

But maybe that was thinking too far ahead, he chided himself as the rear door opened, the griffon stretching her wings and letting out a yawn as she walked through the car again. Smuggling .. that was a little risky. Just saying that the import tax had taken a little hike though … He watched the griffon as she moved past him and then out the forward door, bobbing her head to some unknown tune that was coming from a pair of headphones she was wearing.

I wonder why she’d be going to Northgait? he thought as the door slid shut behind the dark-colored griffon. Maybe she works up there? She’d certainly looked muscular enough, although her posture had been poor. Yeah, probably going to cross the border. Ruffian. I wonder how much she’d be willing to pay to make the crossing a bit … smoother?

Ah well, he thought as he turned his attention back to the cold, white landscape outside the window. The Crystal Mountains were visible now, gargantuan peaks that stretched into the sky, their jagged, snow-covered peaks so high that even pegasi didn’t dare fly to their tips. Border crossings can take a day or two if you’ve not done it regularly, thanks to the security checks. If I’m in luck, I might be able to make her my first bonus paycheck. How much should I charge, I wonder? Ten bits? Twenty? Or should I offer a special package? Five bits for me to “miss” your bag.

He was still puzzling over the rudimentary numbers of what an operation like that could make and how many extra ponies he would need to sway to his line of thinking when a private stepped up next to his bench and flashed him a nervous salute.

“What?” he barked, not exactly keen on having to start his math all over. It was one of the younger privates, and at his question, the nervous-looking pegasus gave a slight jump.

“Uh, sorry sir,” the pegasus stammered, glancing back at a second Guard pegasus that was standing near the front door of the car. Another private. “Private Storm Glass, sir. I noticed something funny about a feather that fell off of that griffon that passed through—”

“And?” Nimbus asked, fighting the urge to roll his eyes. Maybe the two young recruits wanted to return it. "What?”

“Well, we just wanted to go check it out,” the private said, his voice gaining a little bit of assurance as he spoke. “You see, the color—”

Check it out? What, are they into griffons? “Sure, whatever,” he said, shaking his head and looking back out the window. What a sorry excuse for Guard, checking out some wing on a griffon. “Knock yourself out, colt.”

“But the coloration isn’t—”

“Do you want to check it out, or do you want me to tell you to stay here?” Nimbus asked, feeling a little bit of his ire leak out as he gave the private the same glower he’d been giving the landscape a few minutes ago.

“No, sir, thank you sir,” the private said, his wings twitching as he stepped back. “Sorry to bother you, sir.”

You’d better be sorry, colt, Nimbus thought, not even bothering to return the private’s salute as the pegasus turned and left, trotting out the front door of the car with his friend. And you’d better pray I don’t end up in charge of your shift at Northgait. He turned his attention back to the window, lazily tracing his eyes over the passing scenery. Stupid colt wanted to check out the coloration? he thought as he watched a small group of trees pass by in a blur. What was so special about her coloration. That black was dingy anyway. It looked horrid. Not like a good, solid—

The window of the passenger car ahead of them burst outward, a white and gold figure tumbling through it. Nimbus gaped, his thoughts coming to a complete stop as shock seemed to slow the sequence of events. He saw the pegasus Guard tumble through the air, bits and pieces of glass and frame scattering around his body. He saw him flare his wings, reacting just like any well-trained pegasus would when finding themselves thrown free of a moving object. He saw the colt—Private Storm Glass, a small part of his mind informed him—right himself in the air, wings beating to keep pace with the train even as fragments of glass crashed into the snow below him, scattering small pillows of powder as they hit.

And then he saw the tree just as the poor colt slammed into it head first, coming to a complete and total stop. An eyeblink, maybe, and the colt was gone, pulled off into the distance by the receding landscape.

Sergeant Nimbus’s brain was still struggling to catch up with what in the name of Equestria he had just seen, when he heard another crash, followed by yells of surprise and shock from the ponies around him as a second Guard, this one also a pegasus, crashed into a snowdrift on the other side of the train.

Then the training took over, and the entire group was surging for the door, pulling him along with it towards the screams of shock and alarm coming from the forward passenger car. There was a strange, keening cry, a cry that set his teeth on edge as the first of the Guard leapt into the compartment and saw the strange, oddly-colored griffon standing in the aisle, her wings flared in something he vaguely recognized as a professional fighting stance and wide grin on her face. She gave another cry as the first of the Guard jumped towards her, and he flood of worry hit his stomach like a brick of salt. This griffon was facing down two dozen or more Royal Guard.

And she was cheering.

* * *

Blade let out a cheer as the first Guard jumped, completely ignoring the horn poking out of his head in favor of the more direct approach. Not that she was sure it would have done any good. Magic and her hadn’t gotten along lately. She’d had to settle for a natural dye to conceal her color, one that had left her looking like some sort of depressed teen griffon with a bit of mange. But whatever the Guard could’ve done with his horn, it definitely would have been more useful than just jumping at her.

She snapped her wings back, throwing herself forward and bringing up one set of talons to grab the unicorn’s foreleg and pull. She had a brief moment where she could see the stunned look of surprise in his eyes, and then she was yanking him back, adding her own momentum to what he already had and throwing her other forelimb across his back for added measure. Then he was past her, his head impacting the bench she’d been sitting on with a satisfying clunk that left the tip of his horn poking out the other side. He’d have a sore horn when he woke up.

If her casual defeat of the first three ponies had scared some sense into the rest of the group, they didn’t show it. They surged towards her, rushing past the scattering passengers and staggering their approaches as to not bunch up and get in each other’s way.

You just had to buy a ticket on the train that had a car full of Guard on it, didn’t you? she asked herself as she began defending herself in earnest. You couldn’t wait until tomorrow, could you? No, you had to look at them, tell yourself you could handle it, and buy the ticket anyway. She met an incoming Guard’s blow, catching it in her talons and then ramming her head into his throat. He fell away gasping, his hooves pawing at his throat.

You’ll live, she thought as she snapped a wing into another Guard’s head, her bone meeting the pegasus’s helmet with a ring that left her wing hurting but him shaking his head in stunned shock. Contractual part of the job, that—don’t kill anypony unless you have too. Annoying, but workable. And there was that “unless you have to” clause.

Her elbow took another Guard in the nose, blood blossoming out of the mare’s nostrils as the bone parted with a wet pop. Tough luck, Blade thought as she snapped her wings down, lifting into the air above the benches. Should've paid attenti—

Someone crashed into her back and she let out a startled screech as she slammed back into the floor. Someone—one of the pegasi, actually—had gotten around behind her. She was up again almost instantly, her rear legs connecting a grazing blow on the pegasus’s chest that sent him spinning to one side, and then she had to deal with three Guard who were coming at her from the front in classic three-pronged attack.

Well, almost, she noted as the forward-most two charged at her in a synchronized motion. The third, a pegasus sergeant, seemed to be hanging back a little.

Coward. Her pulse spiked as she met the assault, and she let out a whoop as she threw herself into the fight, her wings and limbs beating as she slammed into the left Guard. He went down hard, the combined weight of her larger-than-average bulk crushing him to the ground before he could react. His partner dove in, horn lighting up even as he charged, and Blade spun, whipping her claws across the Guard’s chest. Sparks flew as her namesake talons scraped across the golden metal, throwing the unicorn’s body to one side, but the blow was weak, the trimmed tips of her shortened claws failing to snag.

I am never cutting my talons to go undercover again, Blade thought as the unicorn crashed into her chest with a grunt, forcing some of the wind from her lungs. They were barely half their former size, their easily identifiable length and sharpness gone. It’s going to be weeks before they’re back at their full usefulness again.

She snapped her wing up even as the unicorn jammed his horn into the side of her head. There was a brief, lavender flash that filled her vision, and she could feel the muscles in her face and side starting to lock up as the stunning spell took effect … and then it was gone, fading even as she felt a surge of energy rush across her. Her wing had done the trick, apparently, hitting the unicorn right on the side of the horn and breaking his concentration, and the spell hadn’t been strong enough to stick.

She was getting really lucky with magic lately.

A closed fist to the base of his jaw was enough to finish the job, but she could see more Guard through the windows and at the other end of the car. They were wising up now, boxing her in. She’d have to move fast. This was a Plan B scenario.

But first … The unicorn she was nearly standing on drove a hoof into her right hip, and she felt a spasm of pain as the muscle convulsed. The coward, apparently spotting the opening, darted in, raising a hoof with a triumphant yell.

She let out a loud screech, so loud it made the icy wind rushing through the two destroyed windows look quiet, and felt a twinge of triumph as the sergeant’s ears snapped down, his eyes narrowing reflexively. When she’d tried this trick on Steel Song, it hadn’t worked.

But then, Steel had been a bıçakların ustası, a blademaster. Not some cowardly Guard.

She went for both targets at once, dropping all her weight forward onto one leg—which just happened to shove the downed unicorn’s face into the carpet with a meaty thump that his helmet didn’t quite give the impression of negating—while snapping her back leg out and catching the coward with a stunning blow to the muzzle that ended his forward rush with a scream of pain.

She let out another whoop as she did a quick turn, scanning the compartment. The pegasus who had hit her in the back was lining up for another run, and there were two more pegasi guarding the forward door, each with what looked like a small, hastily thrown together thundercloud. There were more pegasi in the air outside, and several unicorns were coming from the rear door. The passengers—what few had been on the train in the first place—had ducked to the floor and were doing their best to stay out of sight.

It was time to go. Definitely. There was a chance she could win—she was a close-quarter-combat expert, after all—but there wasn’t even a reason to stick around. Not when now she had no choice but to go with Plan B. That was alright. Plan B was her favorite option anyway, and would save her a day or so of travel.

But first … She whirled around and grabbed the moaning sergeant as the pegasus Guard came around for another attack, his hooves downward in a classic dive. Her eyes searched the windows outside the train, looking for—yes, there they were. Perfect.

She yanked the sergeant to his hooves, batting away a hoof as he struggled. The unicorns that had been slowly approaching her let out yells. They thought she was taking a hostage.

“Sorry to disappoint, guys,” she called, wrapping her talons beneath the sergeant’s chest plate and pulling him to his hooves. “We’re not doing the classic hostage standoff today. Not my style.”

“But I really don’t like commanders who hide behind their squad and back out of a three-pronged attack because they’re cowards,” she said, spinning, yanking the sergeant from his hooves and throwing him into the air towards the approaching pegasus. “Back to your side!”

Her muscles burned under the exertion, but she grinned as the gambit worked. The pegasus came to a shocked halt as his fellow Guard crashed into him, training taking over and forcing him to react by grabbing his commander under the forelegs. Which meant he was completely unprepared for Blade’s attack a second later as she shot by, her hind legs kicking off of his side and sending both ponies crashing through yet another window, out into the open air and—tree.

Blade laughed as she snapped past the two pegasi guarding the door, her increased speed from the kick letting her sweep through the opening before either of them could react or bring their thunderclouds into play. There were startled yells from behind her as the Guard realized what she was doing, and several spells shot past her, one grazing a hind leg just lightly enough to make it tingle, and then she was in the crew car, slamming the heavy door shut behind her and hitting the lock. It wouldn’t hold them back for long, especially when any of the pegasus Guard could just fly to the other door, but she wasn’t planning on staying there anyway.

For Plan B she needed the engine.

There was only one pony sitting in the crew compartment, a blue earth pony with a clock for a cutie mark. The porter, from the look of him. And from the way he was trembling, he’d already figured out what was going on.

“You like music?” Blade asked. She pulled the headphones from her neck and disentangled the cord from her right limb. “The player’s back in the first carriage somewhere,” she said. “Sorry about the mess.” She tossed the headphones onto the table and then moved for the front door. There were already thumps coming from the back door by the time she moved to the next car.

She took the jump over the tender quickly, her eyes scanning the sky for any overwatch, and was rewarded with a yell as she dropped onto the back of the engine. This close, the heavy chuff of the engine made it hard to hear anything else, and she kicked the door to the cab open and jumped in, her talons at the ready.

A stunned unicorn looked up from the controls in surprise. “Hey!” she said, her eyes widening. “You can’t be in—”

“Where’s the throttle?” Blade asked, sliding the door shut behind her and running her eyes over the collection of valves and wheels.

“What?”

“The throttle!” Blade said, spinning around and looking at the pale-green unicorn. “Which one makes the train go faster?”

“This one,” the mare said, tapping a bar that was resting by her hoof. “But what—”

Blade grabbed it, shoving it all the way forward, and the chugging sound of the engine took on a new intensity.

“Wait, you can’t—”

“Sorry,” Blade said, giving the engineer a grin. “I’m jacking your ride. You might want to disconnect the rest of the cars and ride things out with them. This trip’s about to get a little … fast.”

For a moment the mare hesitated, her eyes darting between Blade’s and the talon she’d wrapped around the buried throttle. Blade could already feel the train building speed, and she risked a glance at the window. They’d entered the pass. Northgait was just minutes away.

“Last stop to get off,” Blade said, tilting her head to one side. “And unless you’ve got wings—”

The mare bolted, the back door slamming against the back housing of the cab as she scrambled over the tender and jumped to the crew car. Blade saw two pegasi Guard drop from the sky, landing on the front of the crew car, probably to see what was going on. Then there was a metal shriek, and the engine jumped forward, picking up more and more speed as it decoupled from the rest of the train.

A pegasus dropped to the metal deck behind the open door and Blade’s fist caught him in the muzzle, sending him stumbling back before he deployed his wings and took to the air again.

My ride, she thought as the remainder of the train began to drop away on the tracks behind her. And I’m taking it all the way to the end.

The falling snow looked as if it was in a hurricane now, sweeping past the sides of the rapidly moving engine and sucking into a spiraling vortex behind it. The train groaned as it hit a gentle bend in the tracks, and Blade shifted herself to one side, spreading her wings and getting ready to bolt if the engine lifted free. But it didn’t, and she got her first view of Northgait as the locomotive swept around the turn.

It wasn’t much, nothing more than a few wooden homes and public businesses that grew around a small train yard at the south end of the village, along with a few more built into the sides of the pass. The rail line continued on for a bit longer, a necessity for longer collections of cars, before terminating a few dozen feet away from the base of the wall itself.

The pass was narrow, so the wall didn’t have to be wide. It was perhaps fifty, maybe sixty feet across, and half that again high. It was also thick enough that the Guard that had been assigned to watch the border lived inside of it and patrolled the top. That wall marked Equestria’s northernmost border. Past that, the mountains dropped away sharply to icy, wind swept forests that made up the southern end of the territory known as the Ocean of Endless Ice.

Past that wall, Equestria had no sovereignty.

She gave the bar another tap, but it was already buried. The engine sounded as if it was dying now, like it was fleeing from Tartarus itself. About the opposite, really, but she wasn’t about to quibble terms. A quick glance out the windows showed that some of the pegasi had already fallen back, abandoning the pursuit because they couldn’t keep up.

Up ahead, at the train station, colored lights began to flash. Some sort of warning, probably, most likely telling her to slow down.

She laughed. Not today. It wasn’t part of the plan.

The lights began to flash more urgently, and she grabbed a pair of binoculars that had been sitting by the controls. The track ahead was clear all the way to the end. There was nothing in her way.

The lights stopped flashing, and she could see ponies clearing away in a panic, galloping as fast as they could away from the tracks.

Here we go, she thought as the engine shot past the station. Guard were taking to the air above the wall now, alerted to the incoming iron elephant that was barreling towards them. Blade turned and jumped out the back door, holding her wings tightly to her sides as she climbed up the tender, turned herself forward and waited. Some of the Guard pointed at her, calling their fellows' attention to her. The end of the track, a meager barrier of metal and wood, rushed up to meet her.

Three, two, one … Now! She spread her wings and jumped, pushing off hard as the train plowed through the stop at the end of the track and continued onward, its heavy mass barely quivering. She rose into the air as if she’d been fired from a ballista, her wing muscles straining as she tried to hold them steady. She was past the first Guard before he’d even known what was coming, and she shoved her wings down, climbing even as the train below her began to slide to one side.

She shot over the wall with a whoop, past another too-slow Guard, just as the train crashed into the heavy wooden door that separated Equestria from its northern neighbor, smashing the old wood into toothpicks. The rear end of the locomotive was off the ground now, the front end digging in and whipping the back around. And then, like a kicked child’s toy that carried far too much weight and impact to actually be such, it began to roll, snow billowing around it as it crashed into rock and dirt, metal coming apart.

Then, with a crack that threatened to deafen her ears, the overstressed boiler exploded, a massive cloud of steam and metal fragments shooting out in all directions. She was too far up for the heat of the steam to bother her, but she let out a gasp of pain as a sharp metal edge sliced through her side. Something else sharp and hot punched through her wing, and she gritted her teeth together as she began to lose altitude.

She slammed into a snowbank at the base of a tree, landing a little harder than she’d intended and leaving twin bright red scratches across the snow from where her wing and side were bleeding. But …

She’d made it. She turned, raising one fist and shaking it at the distant wall of Northgait. “Sonra görüşürüz, suckers!” A couple of the Guard spotted her and pointed, but she could make out the shaking heads of their superiors from where she was. They carried no jurisdiction on the Ocean, nor did they have any authority to break the centuries long line that had been drawn between the two lands’ borders. She was the Ocean’s problem now. They couldn’t follow.

She let out a laugh that morphed into a wince of pain, and she sat back, one paw going to her side and coming away wet.

“Blasted boiler,” Blade muttered, glaring down at the wound. If I’m lucky, it’s not a deep wound. But my wing ... She paused, checking her wing and giving it a faint flex. I could have sworn I saw something punch through the flesh at the back. There was a red, oozing slice, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as it had felt earlier. Come to think of it, the wound on her side didn’t hurt that much either. The bleeding was already slowing, and as she licked at it, the sting of her saliva making her wince, it stopped bleeding altogether.

She glanced back over at her wing and jerked, her eyes widening as she thought she saw a small spark of pink jump across the wound. Must've been a trick of the light, she thought as she gave it a lick. It looked fine now.

But she was tired. She gave her head a shake, reminding herself that she hadn’t had time to grab her belongings before leaving. Still, she had her bit bag tied under one foreleg, though empty as it was it wasn’t going to do much good. There had to be a small outpost nearby, this close to the border. Something with some supplies for sale she could then use to help her get to Ruffian’s Wharf. She gave her wounded wing an experimental flex and then nodded. It would hurt, but she could fly. She grinned, gave the wall of Northgait one last look, watching as the various ponies scurried across it, and then spread her wings, pushing them down and lifting herself from the icy ground.

She had made it to the Ocean. Now the job could really start.

But first she had to get to Ruffian’s Wharf.

Count of Laws Broken: 37
Damage Value (In Bits): 32,134

Chapter 2 - Ruffian's Wharf

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Ruffian's Wharf - South-Central Port of The Ocean

Ruffian’s Wharf didn’t look like much, Blade realized as she cleared the last of the scraggly pine trees. She’d been traveling through the forest for the last few days, and though it was nice to be free of its confining boughs, at first sight, the town didn’t look much better. Then again, after Equestria, it took a lot for a place to look spectacular.

Ruffian’s Wharf wasn’t that. In fact, it was going the other way, from the look of it. A spectacular dump.

She frowned as she came to a stop near one of the last pine trees, taking a moment to sit and take the faint weight of her recently acquired saddlebags off of her haunches. So this is Ruffian’s Wharf, she thought as she eyed the shoddy collection of buildings. What a hole.

The town looked battered, beaten-down, as if some giant had come along and pressed its mighty paw against each and every building, pressing them to one side or another until the town had the appearance of a fledgling’s toy houses, built without regard to straight lines or edges. Then again, maybe they had been straight at one time, and the cold, icy wind that was stealing the breath from her beak had simply pressed the buildings to one side over time. Since leaving the tree-line, the harsh wind had been biting into her, slicing through her feathers, sucking away what little warmth she’d had, and making her wish she’d thrown something better than the ragged scarf she was wearing onto her supplies back at the trading post. The long walk across the open expanse between her and Ruffian’s Wharf was going to be chill indeed.

Why’d they have to build it so far out on the point? she wondered, eyeing the frozen ground the settlement had been built on. Surely they don’t need that many berths. Her sharp eyes could see the rough wood of the docks, hanging out over the ice around the edges of the city. There were ice-ships docked at several of them, their sails down as they hovered above the ice, tugging at their mooring lines.

She shook her head as another gust of wind rippled across the open expanse, momentarily drowning out the monotonous, endless groan of the ice ocean itself. It was an even-trade off—the grinding, gravelly undertone that had filled the air for the last two days of her trip was mercifully gone for a moment, but in its place a biting chill that made her eyes wander.

No way I’m flying in this, she thought as the gust died down, a shiver running down her back as the chill faded and ending in a twitch of her tail. I’m hardy, but— She shook her head, glancing down at her unprotected sides. Even as hardy as her griffon heritage made her, she wasn’t acclimatized to being this far north. She’d need some kind of covering if she was going to fly more than a short distance.

Which meant she was walking.

She gritted her teeth and stepped out around the scrub pine, holding tightly to her breath as the wind did its best to suck it away. She could feel her scarf tugging against her neck, the stray ends whipping back and forth above her wings, and for a moment she considered coming to a stop and tucking the ends home.

But no, she decided. There was no reason to stop now. The sun was already low in the sky, the long dusk of the north already upon her, and she wanted to be well inside Ruffian’s Wharf before the sun finished its traversal across the horizon.

At least the road is clear, she thought as she trudged along the cold, gravel pathway that led up to the town. It was completely empty, all the way to the first few ragged buildings. But either everyone else is staying inside for the day, or this place isn’t very lively.

She brought her eyes over towards the docks again, narrowing them as she looked for any signs of life. Nothing. Maybe I’m not the only one who’s not enjoying the cold, she thought as she pulled her wings tighter against her body, wincing slightly as a twinge of pain shot through one of them. She glanced back at it, but she couldn’t see any sign of the wound beneath her feathers.

Which was … odd. She still wasn’t sure how she felt about that. Clearly the wound hadn’t been nearly as bad as she’d first thought when the train boiler had detonated a few days ago, but even then, there definitely should have been more to the injury than there was. That morning, when she’d peeled her feathers back to check on it, she’d been greeted by a scab that looked as if it was already over a week old. The light cut on her side had looked even less recent. It wasn’t something to complain about, but at the same time…

She shook her head as the decrepit buildings that made up the outskirts drew closer. There was a time and place to wonder about her apparent ease of healing, but this wasn’t it. No, instead, she needed to keep her mind fixed on her mission. To start, she needed a plan. And she needed information.

Hopefully, she’d find both here.

She passed by the first outskirt building, eyeing the faded and weathered qualities of the wood. She could see daylight through its warped planks, and the sound of the wind howling through the slats let her know that the place had been abandoned some time ago.

If not for that, she thought, it’d almost be hard to tell that one from any other building. The faint, grinding crunch of the ice mixed with the crisp scratching of frozen gravel beneath her feet, echoed off of the wooden walls around her. It was almost like stepping over a line. There were the battered, lopsided and spread out buildings that were “outside” the town proper, and then suddenly the buildings were clustered together, wall to wall around her, as if she’d just entered some foreboding, wooden maze.

She paused for a moment, coming to a halt in the middle of the street and eyeing her surroundings. It was … Utilitarian didn’t quite seem like the right word for it. Direct, maybe? Or perhaps purposeful suited them better. The wooden walls weren’t even painted—the surrounding surfaces were made up of nothing but the constant grey-and-brown of old, weathered wood, with what looked like a mixture of spare rags and dirt wedged between the boards for insulation.

All in all, so far it was looking like the perfect match to the desolate landscape around it. Who would want to live here? she wondered as she resumed her path up the street. I feel depressed just looking at it.

At least the buildings had taken the edge off of the wind, although there was still a stiff breeze echoing down the open street. She pulled her head up as she heard faint voices, one of them laughing. But it wasn’t a jovial laugh. There was a hard edge to it. Dark, and mean.

Ruffian’s Wharf, she thought as the street ahead of her took on a more familiar feel. She stepped off to one side, her talons clacking as she moved onto a wooden boardwalk that seemed to be serving as a sidewalk. Up ahead a duo of earth ponies wandered out an alleyway between two buildings, one of them the source of the laughter, and she got her first good look at the residents of the town.

They didn’t look friendly, despite the chuckles that the larger of the pair was letting out. Both were wearing lightweight vests, one of which had a knife sheathed across the shoulder. The pair were ragged-looking and dirty, with roughly cut manes and stubble crisscrossing their jaws. The smaller of the pair had a wicked looking scar running across his right foreleg, a twisting line of white that started above his hoof and terminated somewhere above the shoulder of his vest.

The larger of the pair looked up, his laughter dying as his eyes locked with Blade’s. A scowl moved across his expression, one mirrored by the smaller pony. “Lookin’ for something, feathers?” he asked, sneering.

Not worth the effort, she thought even as she opened her beak. “Naw,” she said, giving her ruff a quick shake. “Just passing through.”

“Aye, a newcomer, eh?” the smaller pony asked, the light-blue coat around his eyes betraying the amount of grime on his face. “Going to go join your feathered friends out at the Crying Eyrie?”

The name puzzled her for a moment before it clicked. Teardrop Eyrie, she thought, pulling the image of the map in her pack to the forefront of her mind. They’re talking about the Teardrop Eyrie. No, they’d been goading her about it. Her eyes narrowed, and she lifted up one her talons, letting the light glint off of the shortened—but still sharp—tips.

“Easy, miss,” the larger pony said, eyes widening and his expression changing as he held up a hoof and waved it at her. “Able here’s just had a bit too much salt today.” He let out a nervous laugh as he looked down at the other pony. “We both have. Don’t know what I was thinking. Right, Able?”

“Buncha feathered, spineless, loo— … losers,” Able said, shaking his head and glaring at her. “They ain’t welcome here, and neither are you.”

Well, she thought as she watched the pony’s companion quiver slightly, shaking his head. I guess I won’t be looking for a warm welcome here. Still, it wasn’t worth starting a fight over such a weak insult. Even if the pony was lumping her in with her cousins out in Teardrop.

“Just point me to the nearest bar,” she said, keeping her voice steady. “One with rooms for rent. My business here is my own.”

The first pony seemed to recover a bit of his bravado at that, though he couldn’t quite keep his ears from lying low as he jerked his head up the street. “Near the center of town, miss,” he said. “Take a right at the intersection, and look ‘fer the place with the crowd. You won’t miss it. Tall building.” He said the last bit with a slight emphasis, as if that was somehow impressive.

“Bunch of feathered cowards,” Able muttered, giving her an angry look. “Leaving us drifting without a sail, saving their own cowardly—”

“Shut yer yap,” the first pony said, shoving him. He gave Blade another apologetic look. “Like I said, miss. Too much salt.”

“Right.” There wasn’t much else she could say, but she rolled her eyes as she turned her gaze up the street. “Up this way?”

“Yeah,” he said, nodding. “Just go ‘till you reach the intersection and then look to ‘yer right. You’ll see it. And … uh, miss?” he said, looking up and down the street as she began to move. “Watch yerself. Bloodhooves are in town, and they won’t take kindly to a griffon, Teardrop ‘er not.” Then he turned and shoved his companion. “Come on, Able. We’d best get back to the boat, get ‘er ready for the ice.”

“Yeah, fine,” the smaller pony said, shooting one last glare in Blade’s direction, “Feathered cowards.”

She ignored the barb as she resumed her trek down the street. This is off to a glorious start, she thought as she moved deeper into the town. Apparently griffons aren’t welcome here.

That fact was news to her. Granted, she hadn’t ever known much about the Ocean, not past the failed expansion attempt one of the clans had made into it some thirty years earlier, but from what little she’d been able to read from the Equestrian texts on the place before she’d fled Canterlot, the place didn’t have a reputation for being quite so xenophobic.

Or maybe it was just a pair of speciesist earth ponies. Then again … She was moving deeper into the town now, the grumble of the ice growing as she moved closer to the shore, and there were more signs of life and habitation now. Ponies sitting by doorways, walking on the streets, cutting in and out of small alleyways. And while none of them were moving out of their way to avoid her, she could see the slightly hostile glances they were giving her.

Interesting. Was this the result of the “Bloodhooves” that the first pony had mentioned? And who would they be anyway? Pirates? Marauders? A local gang?

Up ahead the street seemed to terminate in some sort of square, a rounded, battered-down open area with a simple signpost in the center. Several streets branched off of the intersection, and she slowed, letting herself take a good look down each of them. Most of them seemed to head straight for the docks, their ends terminating in open air and rough wooden planks that edged out over the grinding ice. There were more ponies down those streets, though not as many as she would have expected on a working day. Then another gust of wind tore through the town, the wooden sign rattling loudly above the groan of the ice, and one of the ponies raised a hoof and shook it at the sky.

Ah, that explains it, then, she thought as she watched the pony resume his plodding step forward, shaking his head. It’s the wind. It’s got them locked in.

She took a few steps forward, not leaving the planked walkway but moving closer to the edge, and gave the street one final look. The pony, still shaking his head, vanished into an open warehouse. Moments later a pair of mares walked out and began moving down the dock. She caught a glimpse of a net cutie mark on one’s flank, and made a mental nod. Those were probably ice dredgers. No wonder they were upset with the weather.

Another gust of wind made the sign in the center of the square creak, and she glanced up at it, running her eyes over the faint lettering.

Not much help, are you? she asked with a shake of her head. The signpost had four directions painted on it. “East Dock,” “West Dock,” “Bar,” and “Out,” the last of which helpfully pointed back the way she had come. I can see all of those places from here easily enough.

Including the bar. She turned towards it and resumed her pace forward, eyes squinting as she glanced up at it. The pony she’d spoken to hadn’t been lying, it was a tall building … compared to the surrounding structures. She doubted it would have stood out quite so much if the warehouses near the docks were any closer.

Still, it was clearly the building she was looking for. Two lanterns hung on either end of the building, unlit but rattling as the wind jerked them against their hooks. The front windows were covered over from the inside, blocking out any view of the occupants or interior, and the door was heavy set, closed firmly—though that was probably to ward off the cold more than anything.

Still, the upper level of the building showed a few uncovered windows, and she could smell the sharp, tangy scent of woodsmoke drifting from the chimney, so it was probably warm inside.

Plus, short of breaking into a warehouse or counting on the hospitality of the town, it was probably her best chance for a place to sleep that night.

The heavy door resisted her push at first, and she was forced to give it a little more pressure with her foreleg to shove it open. It gave, though slowly, and with a bit of a squeak that told its resistance wasn’t entirely the thick wood’s weight. Warmth rushed out at her, along with a faint rumble of conversation that felt … familiar.

She stepped into the bar and let the door swing shut behind her. The rumble of conversation slowed for a moment, eyes and ears swiveling in her direction and lingering before twisting back, the conversation rising again. There was a slight difference to the tone though, a muted sound that made the fur between her shoulder blades prickle.

I’m a new element, she thought as she took a quick, customary look around. The bar was fairly full, mostly earth ponies, though there were a few pegasi scattered throughout the room. The bartender, an earth pony himself, was seated behind the bar, one hoof dragging a cleaning cloth back and forth across in slow, circular patterns. She watched as his eyes did a slow roll over her body, stopping slightly on her bags, and then he was back to staring at his work, a disinterested look on his face.

She made her way across the room, holding her wings tight to her sides as she passed between the various tables. Here and there lanterns had been set on top of poles or built into the center of the heavy wooden tables, their light flickering just enough to add a slight, wavering ambience to the light that spilled in through the upper levels.

Interesting, she thought as she took a seat at the bar. No magilights. They’re using oil lamps. It was a curious choice, given that the lamp oil couldn’t be cheap. Not to mention the smell. She pushed a heavy breath out of her nostrils, clearing the oily stink of the lamps from her beak … but only for a moment. Then it was back again, a stifling but constant odor.

The bartender gave her a long, sideways glance as she sat down, the circular cleaning motions of his cloth slowing as he rolled his eyes over her once more. “Can I get ya’ something?” he asked after a moment, his words slow and strung together, like he’d had too much of his own salt. Nearby, the door to the kitchens slammed open, a younger earth pony mare sliding out with a tray across her back. A table in the back full of a particularly rowdy group of patrons let out a cheer as the mare made her way across the floor towards them.

“Yeah,” Blade said, letting her eyes slide back to the bartender. “How much for a room?”

“What currency?” the bartender asked, his hoof coming to complete stop, leaving the smudges and grease on his cleaning cloth clearly visible.

“Bits.”

“Ah,” the bartender said, the circular motions resuming once more as he turned his attention back to it. “Bits. For you, one night? Twenty-six.”

Blade let out a scoff, the feathers of her ruff rising. “Twenty, and that includes a meal.”

The bartender’s motions slowed, and he looked back up at her again, his brown eyes narrowing. “Fer a griffon?” He shook his head again, the creases in his coat showing that the dull-yellow color probably would have been a bit lighter if he bathed more often. “Twenty-five.”

She relaxed slightly. “Twenty-two, and that includes the meal I’m about to order.”

The bartender closed one eye, squinting the other as if deep in thought. Then he grunted. “What’ll ya’ have?”

“Meat,” she said, lifting her wing and pulling her bit-bag out of the secure pocket she’d stowed it in. “You have any?”

“We might have some,” the bartender said as she played the bit-bag across her talons, the bits within clinking against one another. “It’ll cost you an extra two bits, though. Chicken or rabbit?”

“Chicken,” she said without thinking. One of the stallions at the rowdy table slapped the serving mare on the rump with his hoof as she passed, and the whole table erupted in jeering laughter. “I’ve had enough rabbit lately.” Especially the string-meated ones she’d caught in the forest on her way there. She reached into the bag and felt around with her talons, pulling out two ten-bit pieces and a five-bit piece. “Also, I need some information.”

She slid the bits across the bar, the gold-covered metal slipping easily across the smooth polish, and the bartender’s eyes moved down. She could see him counting the bits in his head and acknowledging the lone extra, and as she pulled her talons back his hoof swept the bits back under the counter in a practiced, rapid motion.

“Let me get ya’ yer food,” the bartender said, dropping from the bar and making his way towards the kitchen, leaving the rag on the counter. “Wait here.”

Like I’d go anywhere else now that I’ve paid, she thought as she watched the stallion disappear into the back. Though she felt like it after seeing how ill-kept the place was. I’d better check the bedding for mites, she thought as she eyed the stairway up to the upper level. Between the clientele and that rag, cleanliness doesn’t seem to be a high priority.

Another bout of laughter rolled off of the rear table, one of the patrons slapping another across the back with her hoof. The serving mare was still there, trying to gather up the group’s used silverware as they pushed and shoved at one another.

Not much in the way of manners here, either, she thought as she turned her attention back to the space behind the bar. Then again, it’s Ruffian’s Wharf. They certainly seemed to be living up to the title.

Which did explain the crossbow mounted behind where the bartender had been standing. She recognized the design: It was an old Skystrike model from the Empire. Easy to load, easy to fire—even for a pony—and easy to take care of, though this one looked a little worn. Most of the clans used them in one fashion or another, usually as part of their training curriculum, since the simple design and easy pull made it a dependable starting weapon. She’d fired her first when she was just nine.

Must be a leftover from the clan expansion attempts, she thought as the kitchen door swung open once more. The wood looks like it’s in good shape. I don’t know about that string though.

A hot, spicy scent filled her nostrils as the bartender slid a tray down the bartop at her. She caught it with one claw, the stew inside the wooden bowl slopping to one side but not out. A carved spoon clattered against the tray as the bartender tossed it down, and she nodded as she picked it up.

“So,” the bartender said as she lifted a steaming bite and clamped it between her beak, ignoring the almost scalding heat. “You want information?”

She nodded and swallowed, her stomach letting out a faint growl of appreciation. “I’m looking for someone,” she said, scooping up another spoonful of the stew and ignoring a potato that dropped back into the bowl. “Last I heard, he lives around here.” Maybe even here in town, she added mentally, slurping down the spoonful. She could taste the chunks of chicken that had been added to the mix. It was stringy, and little overcooked, but it wasn’t terrible. It was certainly better than nothing.

“What are you looking for them for?” the bartender asked, his voice low. He reached down below the bar, his hoof coming back up wrapped around a thick, wooden cup, which he slid in her direction. The hoof dropped out of sight once more, this time rising with a pitcher of water.

“That’s—” She paused as she became aware of the slight lull in the conversation around her. Figures, she thought. I spent too long in Equestria. Still, there wasn’t any harm in anyone hearing. “I’m looking to talk with them,” she said, swallowing another spoonful of soup. “Nothing else.”

“Hmm …” The bartender leaned back, eyeing her through mostly closed lids. “And who is it you’re looking for?”

“Last I knew, he went by the name of Hain,” Blade said as the bartender began to pour water into her cup. His eyebrows rose at her words, but he didn’t make any comment. “You know him?”

“I might,” he said, nodding. “And you just want to talk to him?”

“That’s right,” she said, nodding. “Just talk.”

There was a sudden burst of laughter from the nearby tables. “You’re looking for that washed-up old molter?” someone called, chortling. “Have you tried at the bottom of a bottle?”

“Maybe she wants to join him!” a second voice added in. She felt her ruff rise as she pinpointed the direction of the comments. The back table. Of course.

Focus. She pushed her ruff back down, gritting her teeth as she brought her focus back to the bartender. “So you know him then?” she asked, ignoring the jeering laughter coming from the back of the bar.

“I might,” the bartender said, his expression betraying no reaction to the comments flying from his patrons. “I’ll see what I can do.” He turned and started to move away.

The clink of metal on metal brought him to a stop, his ears twitching in the direction of the two five-bit pieces she’d just stacked atop one another on the bar.

“One more question,” Blade said, lifting a talon and tapping the coins. They made a faint tinkling sound with each faint tap. “I’m also looking for someone else. They would have passed through here maybe two, three weeks ago.”

The bartender turned back, his hoof sliding to sweep away the coins, but she brought her claw down with a faint snap, the trimmed end denting the metal. “First,” she said, lifting her bowl in one talon. “You promise me the info. Second …” She tilted her head and the bowl back both and swallowed what was left, running her tongue around the rim as she lowered it back down. She felt energized, buoyed by the meal. She picked up her cup, twisting it in her claws.

“Second,” she said, looking the bartender right in the eyes. “You tell me where they went.” She tossed her head back and washed what was left of the soup down, her stomach rolling as the ice-cold water crashed into it and mixed with the almost boiling stew. The mug came down with a heavy, echoing thump as she locked eyes again with the bartender. “Do we have a deal?”

The bartender’s eyes flickered to the stack of bits under her claw before coming back to rest on her. Then, slowly, he nodded, and she lifted her talon up, not bothering to take her eyes off of his as he swept the money away, depositing it somewhere behind the bar. “Deal,” he said, though his voice seemed to catch slightly. “What do you want to know?”

She smiled. “I’m looking for a unicorn,” she said, leaning forward as the fur between her shoulder blades prickled. “Probably blue, or some shade thereof, with a cutie mark that looked like an … eye …” The bartender had taken a step back, his eyes wide as the silence of the room caught up with Blade. The entire bar had gone quiet.

“Wait,” came a loud, jeering voice from the back of the room. “You’re looking for a unicorn?” The bartender took a step back, and she turned, shifting her weight on the stool as she faced out into the bar. The table of loud-mouthed ruffians in the back was standing now, several of them with their wings flared, and she could see the identical tattoo marks across their chests and shoulders. A gang then, or something similar.

“Get a load of the feather-cat, boys,” one of the group, a tan earth pony, said, leaning forward as he spoke. “She said she’s looking for a unicorn!” He twisted his head left and then right, looking at each member of his group before turning his attention back in Blade’s direction. “And not just any unicorn …” The words trailed off in a nervous, almost psychotic laugh as he stepped up onto the table, the group parting around him as he walked across it and down the other side, coming in a straight line towards her. His head twitched, and there was a short blade in his teeth, glinting in the lamplight as his head jerked back and forth. Ponies pushed themselves out of his way clearing a path straight to Blade as the rest of his table watched.

“Now, Slit,” the bartender said, his voice shaky. “Let’s—let’s be reasonable about this. She’s not from around here, and—”

“Can it, old-timer!” Slit snapped, his voice only partially muffled by the knife’s handle. “Or maybe I’ll let my boys here have a little fun with this place. It looks like it could use a little freshening up.” He kicked out with his leg, a chair skittering away across the floor. “Maybe I’ll even let them say hello to that serving mare of yours.” He was almost at Blade now, his eyes glinting as his head jerked from one side to the other. “It’s been quiet in town lately, and I haven’t had a chance to cut something in a while. My knife?” He let out a laugh. “She’s thirsty.”

Ruffian’s Wharf might have been putting it a little lightly, Blade thought as Slit came to a stop next to her, his breath hot as he reared up on his hind legs and brought the knife up next to the side of her head.

“So, feathers?” he said, a faint giggle rising from his throat. “What’s it going to be? An eye? Or a wing?”

She turned her head, fixing his eyes with her own. “Ruffian’s Wharf, huh?” she asked as she narrowed his eyes. “I’m not impressed. Wing!”

Her wing snapped out from her side, catching Slit right in the throat. A wheezing, choking, gasp ripped free of his mouth as he stumbled back, his eyes wide, the knife falling towards the floor. She caught it with her talons as she leaned forward, wrapping her other foreleg around the back of the stallion’s head and locking her wrist beneath his shoulder. Then she jerked herself back, pushing off with her back feet and bringing Slit’s face down on the top of the bar with a heavy crack that echoed across the room.

She uncoiled her arm and spun, bringing the stolen knife down and stabbing right through the stunned stallion’s outstretched hoof. The hilt shook as the blade dug into the bar, and she stepped back as Slit let out a horrified, gurgling cry. She turned towards the rest of his table, which was staring at her in stunned silence.

“Anyone else?” she asked, narrowing her eyes.

For a moment the entire room seemed to hesitate, and then with a roar the entire table leapt at her, two of the members stumbling over themselves and crashing to the floor in their haste to get to her. She rose up on her hind legs, her wings outstretched as the group rushed towards her. Then, just as the first was about to arrive, she lashed out, her claws slamming into one of the raised lanterns and sending it crashing into the foremost stallion. He screamed as the glass shattered, scalding hot lamp oil splashing over him and then erupting in flame. He bolted for the door, crashing through it without even bothering to open it.

The pony behind him didn’t even spare a glance in his direction. She leapt at Blade, her wings spread wide as she brought her hooves up in a rudimentary offensive gesture, and then threw a punch aimed at her beak.

Amatuer, Blade thought as she wrapped her own talons around the mare’s oncoming hoof and tugged, stepping aside as the mare overbalanced and crashed into the bar, her head ringing out with a thump not unlike that Slit’s had made. Blade turned away from the already limp body and brought her talons up just in time to meet the next attack, parrying the blow with claws that should have left bloody tracks across the stallion’s foreleg, but instead slid harmlessly across his coat as the trimmed, dulled ends refused to bite. She settled for bringing her other limb up, cracking her elbow across the stallion’s muzzle and grinning as she felt the crunch of bone breaking. The pony let out an outraged cry as she shoved him back, blood gushing from his mangled nose.

Two more rushed at her, one of them wielding a large club with what looked like bits of ragged metal embedded in it, and she took to the air, flapping her wings and lifting off. The first pony skidded to a halt, his eyes burning with rage, while the one armed with the club followed her upwards, beating her own wings as she rose to meet Blade in the air.

“Really?” she couldn’t resist calling as the mare let out a scream and snapped her wings back, launching herself at Blade. “You know why griffon legions don’t use clubs?” She shifted her body to the side, darting out of the way as the pegasus mare whiffed her swing with the club and went into a roll.

“Because the weight makes us do that,” Blade finished, kicking the rolling mare in the back with her rear legs and throwing her roll into an out-of-control tumble that slammed into the upper balcony. “Idiot.”

Something slammed into her back and she twisted as the sudden weight forced her down, coming eye-to-eye with another earth pony. From the look of things, she’d jumped from the balcony stairs to land on her back.

Well, she’ll bring me down, Blade thought as the mare locked her forelegs around her shoulders. But has anyone ever done this to you? She tucked her shoulder down, rolling with the momentum of the mare’s blow, and they crashed down on top of one of the tables, the mare’s breath rushing out of her with a whoosh of air as Blade’s full weight came down atop her. Nope.

Move! She rolled off the table, its patrons scattering away from her as the remaining three members of the group came at her in a classic pincer movement, utensils and impromptu weapons held in their hooves and mouths.

No thanks, she thought as she sidestepped a hasty swing and darted back. It didn’t work for the Guard, and it definitely—” She darted forward, catching the leftmost stallion off-balance and stepping inside his range with a classic Fury stance. Won’t. Work. For ... Her talons and forelegs were a blur as she snapped them in and out, pulling every bit of speed possible out of her limbs and sending the stallion staggering back, his eyes dazed and looking in opposite directions. You! She finished with a double-backhand, the stallion’s head snapping to the side as he toppled backwards, his jaw slack—and not just because it was probably broken.

She stepped to one side, snapping her wings forward and backing her up against the bar as the last two ponies rushed in, their weapons raised high. She caught both of them at the same time, one in each talon, and then pulled down, hard. Their heads met with a resounding, hollow thunk that echoed across the bar, and then they too collapsed, their limp bodies spilling across the floor as she let go of their hooves.

“Don’t move.” A faint, familiar click sounded behind her and she froze as she recognized the sound of the Skystrike crossbow. “Turn around.” Slit’s voice was raspy but hot with anger, and she turned to see him standing on the other side of the bar, the Skystrike carefully cradled in his hooves. Blood was running down his wounded foreleg, but the pony didn’t seem to care. There was a mad glint to his eyes, a hint of insanity to the way one of them was twitching.

“Gotcha’ now, don’t I you molting carrion-eater?” Slit asked. The bartender was cowering nearby, cringing in fear as Slit lifted the bow a little higher. “You’re gonna pay for this,” Slit continued, jerking his wounded leg out for emphasis. “I think I’ll let the boys have fun with you after I do, and then, if you’re still alive, we’ll turn you over to Pyre. He’ll deliver you to that horn-head Sagis, and then you’ll really know what it means to mess with us.” He lifted the crossbow a little higher. “What do you say to that?”

Blade glanced at the weapon once more, her body tensing, and then she relaxed. “Go ahead,” she said, grinning. “Try it.”

Slit’s self-assured look bled into an angry howl of rage as he pulled the trigger back—and with a sharp snap, the crossbow string parted under the pressure, the bolt jamming.

Blade leapt forward, rising over the bar as she yanked the useless crossbow from Slit’s hooves. There was a deafening crack as she spun the butt of the weapon up into the side of his head, and then his eyes rolled back, his body going limp as he slumped to the ground like a sack of dead meat.

“Moron,” Blade said, clubbing the comatose pony a second time with the Skystrike for good measure. She turned to the proprietor as he began to slide away. “You should’ve taken care of the string,” she said, hefting the weapon in her claws and giving it a good look. “It always goes bad on this model. Now.” She set the crossbow on the counter, glancing around the bar as she leaned in close. The rest of the clientele had vanished. It was just her and the owner. “Why don’t you tell me a little bit about this unicorn?” she asked, her eyes narrowing as he whimpered. “And why everyone around here seems so jumpy about him.”

Count of Laws Broken: 11
Total Laws Broken: 48
Damage Value (In Bits): 384
Total Damage Value (In Bits): 32,518

Chapter 3 - Hain

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Ruffian’s Wharf

Well, that was a bust, Blade thought as the bar door slammed shut behind her, the wood rattling from the impact. So much for having a place to stay for the night. Or any of the information I was hoping to get.

Well, that last bit wasn’t entirely true. The bartender had told her one little bit of information before he’d thrown her out. Technically two, if she counted not wanting to talk about unicorns at all. But he’d at least had the foresight to return the money she’d paid for the room and the information he hadn’t wanted to give her. Of course, it had taken her waving a still-dull talon under his face to get that concession out of him.

Which is bad news in and of itself, she thought as she moved forward into the town square once more. The sun was just setting, casting a faint orange-and-pink haze over everything, but there was still enough light for her to see that despite her confrontation inside the bar, everything seemed to be carrying on the same as when she’d gone in. Faint voices still drifted across the square, their tones rough and harsh in the faint wind, but as near as she could tell, undirected at her. Two of the warehouses were still open, and she could see a team of ponies carting barrels out and towards the dock.

She turned right, away from the northwest dock, and headed towards the road the bartender had told her about. One of the two pieces of intel she’d asked for had been the set of directions she was now following, a path that would take her towards the eastern side of the small town. The other bit … Well, it hadn’t been something he’d told her. Not out loud. But it was worrying all the same.

Face to face with a warrior griffon who’d just taken down a bunch of thugs inside his bar, and he still wouldn’t tell me anything about unicorns. Or why everyone acted so weird. Or why I haven’t seen any unicorns around town. The wind picked up for a moment, gusting and sending small particles of snow dancing across the road in front of her. The light was getting dimmer, the glow of the sun spitting colors across the sky as it set. There were a few lampposts along the street, but no one appeared to be lighting them.

Still, me standing over a bunch of bodies should have gotten that bartender to say something, she thought as she gave her head a shake, settling her ruff. The wind gusted again, tugging at her feathers, and she tucked her wings closer to her sides. I offered him money and made it clear I wasn’t in the mood for any funny business, but he wouldn’t talk. She frowned, clicking her talons together in irritation. Which means whoever I was asking about, he fears them more than he did me.

She’d already made the observation, but mulling it over in her head once more sent a faint prickle running down her back, hairs rising along her spine. So I guess the question is, were those lowlifes in the bar attacking me for asking about it, or because they’re attached to whoever has that bit of crystal? She clacked her beak open and shut, eyes narrowing. Why can’t you take the easy jobs, Blade?

She passed another intersection, shifting her eyes first right and then left before wandering out across the street, her senses alert for any other traffic. From somewhere down one of the roads a child laughed, a strange sound over the moaning wind. It felt alien. Out of place.

She crossed the intersection, hugging her wings tightly against her sides as the wind picked up. There was a hint of snow falling from the sky now, descending through the last rays of lingering sunlight and drifting back and forth with the wind, and she narrowed her eyes as she made her way across the frozen street, blocking some of the windswept debris. The scent of woodsmoke drifted past on the same breeze, faint but still prickling the inside of her nostrils.

As near as she could tell from her path, the city was laid out like a spider’s web, roads striking out from the central square like spokes from a wheel. Intersections like the one she had just crossed split those spokes into smaller pieces, though judging from the angles of those same streets, not with any great degree of symmetry.

One more block, she told herself as she passed along the street. Ponies were lighting interior lights now, faint patches of warm, yellow brightness that spilled across the street, illuminating the falling haze of snow. Or maybe she was just noticing them now that the sun was down and no longer competing. He said the place you were looking for would be fairly obvious.

She crossed another intersection, her talons scraping against the frozen ground. She was nearing the edge of village now, which meant that she had to be nearby. She ran her eyes up and down the right side of the street, searching for the—

There! Settled right next to a lamppost which had already been lit, just like the bartender had told her about, was a small, sturdy looking home with a peaked roof. She wandered up to it, running her eyes across the shingled roof with its powdering of snow and eyeing the lines. It looked sturdy enough, and the upper windows were well-lit, though she couldn’t see anything through them but the underside of the roof. The windows below that were sealed off, heavy, dark cloth blocking off all but the faintest glimmers of light from deep within.

Well, I hope this is it, Blade thought as she stepped up onto the porch, the dry wood creaking beneath her. It doesn’t look like too bad of a place … There was a small crate sitting next to the door, a familiar, fermented scent drifting out of it. She caught a glimmer of glass reflecting from within it. Bottles.

Wonderful. She brought her talons up in a fist and gave the door a series of sharp, heavy raps with her knuckles, taking a deep breath as the door vibrated. Let’s hope he’s got what I need, she thought. Another gust of wind rattled down the street, heavy enough that she could hear the nearby homes creak. And maybe I should add a place to stay to that list, she thought as she hugged her wings tighter. If not, I’m going to end up curled up in a warehouse somewhere.

She knocked again, harder this time. Come on, she thought as the door shook under her claws. Where are you? She needed answers—and advice—and he was hopefully going to have both. If he didn’t ...

The door jerked open partway, bright light spilling across her and making her eyes reflexively narrow. Someone was standing in the doorway, their figure silhouetted against the well-lit inside, one forelimb on the door handle, and as her eyes adjusted she picked out the shape of his shoulders, the wings held loosely open at his sides, the faint image of a tail flicking in surprise behind his hindquarters. His eyes were open wide in an expression of surprise, but as they narrowed she could see the sharp intelligence behind them. He opened his beak.

“What do you want?” he asked, his voice gravelly, like someone was grinding rocks together, or a bit of the Ocean itself had become stuck in his throat. She could smell the faint whiff of alcohol on his breath, but it was faint, and he didn’t look unsteady on his feet.

She ran her eyes up and down his frame, pulling in every detail and comparing them to her memories. He was a little less heavily built than the old picture she’d seen of him, and his body was home to quite a few more scars, but she could still see the faint shades of his original tan plumage and coat concealed beneath the large swaths of grey age. But there was no mistaking the sharpness, the intensity in his brown eyes that was growing more insistent by the moment.

“Well, kit?” he asked, frowning.

She gave her head a quick shake, clearing her mind as she switched over to native griffon. She had to make sure. “Eğer Hain misin?” she asked, pulling herself upright to full attention.

“Speak Equestrian,” he said, scowling. “Of course I’m Hain, who else would I be?” She felt a faint flutter of excitement in her chest. So it was him; her information had been correct.

Hain was looking bored now, his expression flat. “And I already told your clan, chick, I’m free to mind my own business, all right? You’re not affiliated with the Empire, and you’ve got no pull here. Go tell your matriarch or whoever it is now to leave an old griffon alone.” He began to turn, pushing the door shut as he looked away.

“I’m not from the Teardrop Eyrie,” she said, slapping her talons across the front of the door and pushing it back open.

Hain froze, his body stiffening before slowly turning back in her direction. “Then who are you, kit? A newcomer? Just heard there was another griffon in town and thought you’d come say merhaba?” He shook his head, his eyes narrowing at her as she stood stiff, her talons splayed out. He let out a low chuckle.

“No, not with that stance,” he said, cocking his head to one side. “What’s your name, chick?”

“My name is Blade Sunchaser,” she said, relaxing her posture slightly. “From the Windrunner clan.”

Hain nodded. “Talmoss mountains.” He tilted his head to one side again. “But not representing them now, I take it.”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I split from the clan some time ago. I’m a wandering claw now.”

“A mercenary, in other words,” Hain said, nodding. “And you came looking for me?” His eyes narrowed, and she could see the faint telltale quiver of the muscles in his body tightening.

“I did,” she said, ignoring the movement. “I’m not attached to the Empire. Not officially. I’m on a contract, and had heard you were in the area.”

She shut her beak with a click as Hain pulled himself up to his full height, eyeing her carefully. Then he sighed and shook his head. “Fine,” he muttered, pulling the door open the rest of the way and jerking his head towards the inside of the house. “Get in here and say your piece. You’re wasting my heat.”

She stepped inside with a nod, noting the way that he watched her as she stepped past. It wasn’t a sensual look, but a hard, critical look she could feel analyzing every inch of her body. So this is what it’s like to meet the legend, she thought as she moved into the room. She locked her own eyes with his, refusing to back down until he rolled his own and made his way across the living room. It’s like being under a microscope.

The home itself was small and straightforward. A wood stove near the side of the room was radiating heat, the faint sounds of popping from within it telling her that it had recently been stoked. A pair of couches sat facing one another, their cushioned surfaces covered with blankets and separated by a small table that sat between them. Beyond the furniture was a small bar that stuck out from the wall, separating the small kitchen from the main room. Two doors off of the kitchen were closed; one probably a bathroom and the other storage.

Above her the home was open, nothing between her and the roof but thick, wooden beams that made up the supports. There was another level built above the kitchen, though she couldn’t see any stairs upward.

Smart, she thought as she dropped herself onto one of the couches. No stairs won’t bother him as long as he can fly, but if anyone else wanted to get up there they’d need wings. And since the home had probably been built by ponies … She scanned her eyes over the wall, the corner of her mouth sliding upward as she located the faint lighter marks on the wall that showed where a set of stairs had been pulled out. He still thinks like a commander, she thought, turning her eyes to the older griffon as he dropped himself back into the couch opposite her, picking up an open bottle from the table and casually tapping it with his talons. His eyes were still locked on her.

“Well?” he said at last. “What do you want?” He tilted the glass back, his beak clicking against it as he took a small swig.

“I came looking for you,” she said. “I’d heard you were living in the Ocean.”

“You found me, kit,” he said, the bottle hitting the tabletop with a ring. She took a small, surreptitious sniff. It didn’t smell alcoholic. “Stop wasting my time. What. Do. You. Want?” He locked eyes with her for a moment and then lifted the bottle to his beak again.

“I need information,” she said as he swallowed. The bartender’s words echoed through her mind. “On a group known around here as ‘the cult.’”

She jerked back as Hain choked, drops of liquid running down the side of his beak as he yanked the bottle away. “You—You what?” he coughed, his eyes wide. “You’re looking for the cult!? What are you, kit? Flying up high in the thin air?” He brought the bottle down with a loud bang. “Why are you asking about the Order of the Red Horn?”

She smirked. “General—”

“Don’t call me that,” Hain snapped, leaning forward and glaring at her. “Do not, ever, call me that. It’s Hain now, are we clear?”

She nodded, and he leaned back, grabbing the bottle once more. “Now,” he said, resettling his wings. “Tell me, why are you looking after the cult?”

“I think they have something,” she said. “I’m being paid to get it back.”

“So you’re under contract for that then. On the job,” Hain stated.

“I am,” she said, nodding. “And being paid quite a bit.”

“So you won’t consider asking them to reconsider?” Hain asked, one feathered brow rising.

She gave him a smirk. “Trust me,” she said, tapping her talons together. “They didn’t hire me because I was the only option. If this ‘cult’ has what I’m being paid to retrieve, then I will get it, one way or another.”

“Or die trying?” Hain suggested. There was a tone to his voice that irked her, like his statement had been part way through a question and general declaration. “What are you retrieving?”

“That’s for me to know,” she said, shaking her head. Doesn’t hurt that my employer doesn’t really know themselves. “As is how much I’m being paid. But I came here tailing a unicorn—”

Hain scoffed, cutting her off with a shake of his head. “If it’s a unicorn you’re after, and they willingly came here, then they’re most likely cult.” He lifted his bottle, eyed it for a moment as if weighing taking a drink, and then set it back down again with a shake of his head. “The odds are stacked against you, kit.”

“Well, maybe you can help even it,” she said, resting her forward limbs on the floor as she leaned forward. “It’d help if I knew who this ‘cult’ was. I hadn’t heard anything about it before now.”

Hain gave his head another shake, his tail lashing idly. “They’re unicorn supremacists,” he said. “A cult that believes that it’s the unicorn race’s duty to rule over all other races. Maybe exterminate them. They follow some ancient dark lord or something that they keep insisting is coming back. They’ve been around for a long time, but they were always quiet, just little nudges here and there, until about twenty or so years ago.”

“What happened?”

“A unicorn called ‘Sagis’ took over the cult,” Hain said, rolling his talons over the wooden table in a steady, rhythmic cadence. “I wasn’t here for long before that, but up until that point I guess the cult had always been quiet. Background. Little groups here and there. But that wasn’t good enough for him.”

“An idealist,” Blade said.

“Worse,” Hain countered. “A visionary. An intelligent one. He took the cult public, banded them together. They went from a scattered bunch of speciesists to a legitimate power overnight. You’re familiar with the pirate groups?” He cocked an eye at her.

“Not really,” she admitted. “I know they exist.”

Hain nodded. “Well, Sagis isn’t stupid. They started making themselves known around the Ocean, pressuring towns, ponies, that sort of thing. Preaching unicorn supremacy, all that bunk. Started to vie with the pirates and the local militias for control—you know, pushing the limits, testing them, stuff like that.”

“What happened?”

Hain shrugged. “Nobody was quite sure what to do. Probably why he was able to get away with it.”

“Away with what?”

“The cleansing,” Hain said. “The cult brokered an alliance with one of the pirate gangs, the Bloodhooves. Started using them as hired muscle, and their first target was a rival pirate group. The Black Ear gang. They hit hard, and they hit fast. With the cult providing magical back up, they razed the entire Black Ear fleet. Captured a bunch of ships. Took huge swaths of the Ocean to claim as their own. Then they took the villages.”

“Like this one,” Blade said. It certainly explained the reaction from the bartender. “Standard operating procedure.”

Hain nodded. “So you do have a head on your shoulders,” he said. She ignored the jibe.

“Anyway,” he continued, “that’s exactly what they did. They called it a ‘cleansing.’ They raided all the cities across the Ocean, every boat they could find. Any unicorn that wouldn’t join them … they killed. Or captured.”

“When did this happen?”

“About twenty years ago,” Hain said.

“Well, that explains why I didn’t see any unicorns,” Blade said.

Hain gave her another, slower nod. “Exactly. There’s still one or two out there, but at this point, if somepony is a unicorn, odds are you’d best be looking for the red band on their horn.”

“What about the pirates?” she asked.

“There’s one other group of pirates left out there,” Hain said. “The Cragtooths. Far as I know, they’re still fighting back against the cult and the Bloodhooves both, but they’re pretty much pushed back to a small section of the Ocean and their home base.”

“And the griffons?” she asked. “Teardrop Eyrie?” The Empire had given up colonizing the Ocean during the last regency war, but there was still an unaffiliated Eyrie that had stayed behind to fend for itself.

“Pushed back to the Eyrie itself,” Hain said, his face grim. “They had a second colony that they were developing, out on Pinnacle Rock.” He scowled. “The cult pushed them out, slaughtered hundreds of them. They call it the Bloody Tip now. Use it as their base of operations.”

“So basically, they rule the Ocean,” Blade said, sinking back.

“Not in any specific sense,” Hain said. “Their enforcers keep the villages in line and abduct any unicorn children that are spotted, and they demand a ‘tax’ from the dredger fleets, but their grip is tenuous at best. As you might imagine, your ‘cousins’ at the Eyrie have held them off. The Cragtooths do a pretty good job of it too.”

“And you?” she asked, looking right at him. “Why didn’t you help the Eyrie?”

Hain’s face froze before becoming a glare so cold she wouldn’t have been surprised to see frost on her feathers. “They don’t want my help,” he said, his voice low, almost a growl. “I’m Hain, remember?” He took another swig from his glass.

“So this ‘Order of the Red Horn’ pretty much has everyone scared and runs the Ocean like they own the place huh?” She said, ignoring the older griffon’s outburst. Her talons clicked together, the still dull-trimmed edges sliding over one another, and she gave them an annoyed look. Never trimming these again, she thought as she splayed them out once more, looking back up at Hain. “And they’ve got what I came for?”

Hain’s eyes narrowed. “Most likely,” he said, his voice back to normal. “Were they in Equestria at any point, or did they pick it up from someone?”

“In,” she said. “Blue coat. Cutie mark of a watching eye.”

“I can’t say I know who it is,” Hain said, shrugging. “But yeah, most likely cult.”

“Fine,” she said. “Do you know someone who might know for sure?”

Hain leaned back, a curious look on his face. “You’re going to go after this anyway?”

“It’s my contract.”

“You could die.”

“Not a problem.” She leaned forward. “Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve come close. And a cult doesn’t scare me.”

“It should,” Hain countered. “They’re dangerous.”

“Is that why you’re not doing anything about them, Hain?” she asked, drawing out his name. “I know who you are. Who you were.”

“Kit …” he growled, his voice low. “I already told you not to bring that up.” His voice was taking on a faint accent with every low rumble, a familiar, accented rhythm.

“You have talents I want, Hain,” she said, ignoring his darkening mood. “You’ve been here a long time. Depsite that, I’m guessing those talents haven’t atrophied. Your removal of the staircase says that. A general—”

“I told you, do not to call me that,” Hain barked, his voice rising in volume.

“—former commander,” she continued without missing a beat, “such as yourself surely knows sapients. Useful sapients. You know the Ocean. And you know war.” Hain’s ruff was up, fluffed as his eyes grew hard. “Which is why,” she finished, “I want to hire you.”

Hain’s head snapped back in surprise, his wings flaring out slightly. Then he laughed. “Against the cult? You’re joking, chick.”

“I’m not,” she said, giving him the ghost of smile as she leaned back. “I know who you were. I’ve studied your work—even the stuff the Empire couldn’t sterilize.” She saw the slight tightening of his claws as she mentioned his past and decided to duck away. Probably best not to push that button too hard, she thought. Overdoing it might push him too off balance to want to help me with anything.

“You have skills I need, contacts out here on the ice—as well as local knowledge—that I don’t have. If I’m going to complete my job, I’m going to need someone who can provide that. That’s why I came to you: because I needed information, but because I also figured I’d need an ally, and everything you’re telling me says I will.”

“I’m a hain. Onur olmadan tek,” he said once more, a look of curiosity on her face. “You know what that means.”

“And I don’t care,” she said, leaning forward. “All I care is whether or not you’re the one with the skills and information I’ll need.”

Hain brought up one talon and rubbed it gently across his chin, parting the feathers there. “To get your little … package back?” He frowned. “It’s not a sapient, is it?”

“Furthest thing from it,” she said, shaking her head.

“And they’re paying you well, whoever ‘they’ are,” Hain said. “This package must be very important to somepony, otherwise you’d have already thanked me for the information and left. Instead, it sounds like you want to steal something from one of the most powerful groups on the Ocean. Or worse.”

“Whatever it takes to get the package back,” Blade said, clicking her talons together. “That’s what I’ll do. The semantics don’t matter.”

“Ilginç.” Hain dropped his talon and stared at her for a moment. Then he shook his head. “No,” he said, rising from his couch. “I’ll give you information on who might be able to tell you what you need but—”

A loud creak echoed through the room and Hain froze, his voice cutting off as he looked towards the door. “Who else is with you?” he asked.

“No one,” Blade said, eyeing the door. Hain hadn’t taken his eyes off it.

“Did you ask anyone else around the town about this individual you’re looking for?” he asked, his voice firm.

“At the bar,” she said, frowning. “There were a couple of locals that took issue with it and tried to pick a fight—”

“Atalarının mezarları, kiti,” he said, glaring at her. “Those weren’t locals.”

In a flash she understood. The tattoos, the weapons. Of course they weren’t locals. She lifted herself from the couch, tensing every muscle in her body as a thump sounded outside the door. They’d been pirates. Bloodhoof pirates.

“And you brought them right to me,” Hain said, glaring daggers in her direction. “You—”

Whatever he said next was drowned out as the door crashed open, the frame splintering as the lock smashed through it. A deafening roar filled the room as an immense, red-coated minotaur stepped through the broken frame, ducking as his horns scraped against the top of the doorframe. His chest and arms were covered in tattoos like the ones she’d seen on the ponies at the bar. A warhammer was clutched in one hand, and as he looked at them, his face lit up in a grin. Behind him, she could see at least a dozen earth ponies and pegasi milling around outside the door, all armed.

Well, so much for talking things through, she thought, returning the minotaur’s grin as he lifted his hammer. Her talons were itching, her wings quivering and heart pumping as she glanced in Hain’s direction. Too late now to make up for mistakes, she thought as the minotaur opened his mouth. But maybe we can have some fun.

“Bloodhooves …” the minotaur bellowed. “Kill them both!”

Count of Laws Broken: 0
Total Laws Broken: 48
Damage Value (In Bits): 23
Total Damage Value (In Bits): 32,541

Chapter 4 - Wanderer

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Ruffian’s Wharf

For a split second, time seemed to slow around Blade as the minotaur's warhammer descended, his command to attack still echoing around the small home. She could feel her breath in her chest, every muscle in her wings, even each feather on her neck twitching as her senses narrowed, zeroing in on every detail she could see. The minotaur’s straining tendons, the eager looks on the faces of the ponies behind him … the weapons held in their mouths and hooves. Then everything exploded into motion, the Bloodhooves letting out a loud cheer as their leader’s hammer slammed into the side of Hain’s couch, crushing the arm and cracking the wood into splinters.

But Hain was already on the move, his wings sweeping forward and launching him back, away from the melee. Blade didn’t give him a second look. She was already leaping forward, the couch sliding back beneath her as she slammed into the minotaur's chest, raking his exposed chest with her talons. Her dull, trimmed talons.

Blasted—! The minotaur’s arm caught her in the side, knocking her off his chest, and she flared her wings as the first of his followers swept through the doorway behind him. Never trimming my talons ever again, she thought as the minotaur stepped forward, swinging his hammer in a lazy, lateral motion. She ducked under the blow, bunching her wings and limbs close to her body before diving forward once more towards him.

He saw her coming, her dull talons extended, and laughed, not even bothering to shield himself with his arm. Her first strike glanced harmlessly off of his tough hide. A minotaur’s skin was tough enough against a sharp blade, and her strikes hadn’t even left marks. He began to laugh again—only to let out a scream of pain as she drove her other talons into his right eye. There was a faint popping sensation beneath her blow, and then she jumped back, ichor streaming from her claws as her opponent stumbled backwards over his own teammates, clutching his head with one free hand.

Serves you right, Blade though as she landed in front of the kitchen. Taking me on claw to claw. The ponies that had followed the minotaur in seemed stunned by the sudden wounding of their commander, their eyes glancing between her and the still screaming minotaur. They didn’t seem shocked though. If anything, they looked … angry.

With another roar, the ponies began to stream into the room, blades of all shapes and sizes held high as they began to spread themselves across the floor, forming a ring around her.

“Seriously, guys,” she said as one of them lifted his hoof, which had a sort of curved, razor-edged blade wrapped around it. “Your buddies in the bar started that fight.” The pony grinned and darted toward her, several more of his buddies closing in around her.

“Right.” She shot upward, her wings and rear legs carrying her over the heads of her attackers and bringing her down behind them. A blade stabbed out at her and she rolled her body to one side, flaring her wing to conceal the motion until her attacker’s blade had already met air. The pony’s jaw slammed shut as she brought her fist up in a quick uppercut, hard enough that she could hear the clack of his teeth as they ground together.

Another blade was coming for her, and then another. A pegasus had taken to the air, waiting just outside of the fight’s range in case she tried to escape. As she countered another attack, ripping a club free of a pony’s grip and flipping it an ally’s head, a grey bundle of fury descended on the airborne pegasus. The pony fell from the air as Hain’s claws cut into him, his talons flashing in the lamplight.

“Yaaaah!”

Blade looked up and then ducked to her side, shouldering an oncoming pony out of the way as the minotaur she’d wounded charged back into the fray, his warhammer cracking the floorboards where she’d just been standing. She lashed out with one rear leg, catching an attacking pony in the elbow and sending him stumbling to the ground, then jumped back into the opening she’d made as the minotaur lifted his warhammer again.

“Nice to see you again,” she said, dodging to the side as the brute’s massive hammer swept towards her once more, crashing into the backrest of one of the couches and tipping it over backwards from the force of the impact. “Having a little trouble with your aim?”

He let out another almost deafening bellow, the floor vibrating with the force of the roar, and then stepped forward. More ponies were pushing through the door, and the ones she’d knocked aside were getting up once more. I can’t let them push me back into the kitchen, she thought as she stepped to the side, the warhammer missing her by a good several inches. Pain flared along her side, and she lashed out with one set of claws, forcing an earth pony with a bloodied knife to fall back. If get in the kitchen I can’t lift off and can’t maneuver. And then it’s going to be over.

“Ennius!” Hain’s loud cry cut through the room as another hammer blow came at her, smashing into what was left of the other couch and breaking it apart. She could see the minotaur’s muscles starting to swell, his body bulking as he swung again. Blood was running down his face from the mess, painting hard to see tracks on his red pelt.

“Ennius!” Hain called again from somewhere above. “What are you doing—”

“Save it, you old windbag!” the minotaur shouted back even as he swung the hammer again. “You’ve been a blight on this town long enough. You should have joined your cowardly friends in their eyrie so you could at least die with them, but you’ve had your warnings!” He swung the hammer again, his shoulders swelling as his innate magic reacted to the fight. Without some sort of offensive magic fueling the battle rage, he wouldn’t be much tougher, but he’d still be harder to kill.

“Last chance, Ennius,” Hain called from the loft. The ponies pulled back, giving her a moment to breathe, and Blade ran her eyes over the crowd, gauging the number of attackers against her own capacity.

In a straight fight with some space, I’d have a better chance, she thought. But there’s at least a dozen of them plus the minotaur. This close, all it takes is a lucky blow, and they’re close enough they’d get it. She glanced at her side, eying the thin, red line of blood that was soaking through her coat. This isn’t a fight I can win right now. Not in tight quarters, with my talons clipped and useless. She gave her head a little shake. Clipping her namesake talons short to avoid being spotted by the Guard had seemed like such a good idea at the time …

“Last chance to what, Hain?” Ennius asked, the griffon’s name coming out like a sneer as he waved his hammer. “Watch as we kill your little friend?”

Not gonna happen, Blade thought, eyeing the minotaur.

“Last chance to leave before I get exceptionally angry,” Hain said, his voice cold. “And for the money, if I had to guess, I think I’d put my reeds or bits or what have you on your target down there before you and your friends. After all, she’s got an eye for combat.”

Ennuis growled at the insult, hot breath steaming free of his nostrils. “I have the entire crew of the Manticore backing me,” he said, a low growl carrying his words. “You’re sheltering a fugitive from the cult.”

Blade felt the feathers on the back of her neck stand on end as he said the words. I’m a fugitive? For coming here? Apparently Hain thought as much of the minotaur’s choice of words.

“A fugitive?” Hain said. “Seems to me she just got here. Pretty handy in a fight too, judging from how she whipped your boys. And I’m betting she can get up here before any of your bilgewater friends can stop her. We’d have the superior positioning, and I’m betting you’d run out of crew before we got tired of killing them. So get, before you let all the warm air out of my place.”

Ennuis let out a snort, his one good eye glaring in Blade’s direction. “Maybe so,” he said, nodding and lowering his warhammer. His crew was shooting him nervous glances now, their weapons wavering.

“They say you used to be a master tactician,” Ennuis said, and Blade couldn’t miss the smug tone in his voice. “Looks like you’ve lost your edge.” He turned, lifting his hammer in the air. “Everyone out, boys! Old Hain wants us to leave.” He let out a chuckle as the ponies surrounding him began to fall back.

That’s not a good sign, Blade thought as the ponies picked their way out the door. She watched the big minotaur as he took a step back, his free hand idly wiping at the blood that had leaked across his chest. I don’t like that smile.

“You’ve made your point, Hain,” Ennuis said, a low chuckle rolling out his mouth. “You’ve planned ahead. So please, don’t let me or my ponies keep you.” He stepped towards one side as if to grab the door handle, but then paused.

“But before I go, let me make up for letting in the cold,” Ennuis said. Blade flared her wings as the minotaur’s arm snapped upwards, the hammer held high. Then he brought it down on the side of the stove, smashing the metal handle and cracking it right off. With another thrust of his weapon, the stove tipped, crashing over and sending burning logs bouncing across the floor. The couch caught almost immediately, flames rushing up the sides and eagerly spreading across the dry wood.

“There we go,” Ennuis said, laughing as he backed out of the door, his hammer held at the ready. “Keep warm!” The door crashed shut behind him, but not before Blade heard the minotaur’s voice ring out once more. “Burn it to the ground, boys!”

A rousing cheer echoed from outside the house, muffled only by the thickness of the walls and the sudden roar of the glowing flames. She jumped forward, catching one of the blankets that had been lying across the other couch and throwing it over the quickly spreading fire, stamping with her front legs.

“Kit!” Hain called from above. She looked up and saw his head shaking back and forth. “Leave it,” he said as the fire began to spread out from under her meager covering, eagerly running up the walls. A bookshelf, full of papers and bound covers, proved a welcome fuel source for the flames, and the flames began to climb upward, jumping from shelf to shelf.

“Leave it?” Blade asked, taking a step back as the blanket grew hot under her claws. She could already feel the heat of the fire spreading across her face; hot, hungry and dry.

“Leave it,” the griffon repeated. “And get up here.”

She took to wing as he turned, her side stinging as the heat of the flames washed over the thin slice she’d gotten during the fight. Smoke was already beginning to thicken near the peak of the roof, and she kept herself low, kicking her feet off of the base of a beam as she ascended into the loft.

It was simplistic, though cozy looking. A large, circular nest dominated most of the floor space, the blankets forming a concave sleeping space welcome to any griffon. A dresser sat on one side, its top bare save for a small combat harness and sheathed knife. Blankets covered the rear wall. Hain himself was tugging at one of them, pulling it down.

“Hain,” she said as he tugged at one of the blankets. “The fire—”

“The house was lost the moment you came here, kit,” Hain said, tugging the blanket down and revealing the bare wood behind it. “There’s nothing to do now but make a run for it.”

A pang of guilt flashed through her chest, and she looked over the edge of the loft. The fire was still spreading. “We could stop it,” she said, glancing back at him. “Toss me that blanket—”

“No,” Hain said, shaking his head. “It’s already done. Don’t you hear that?” He cocked his head to one side and Blade did the same. Faint thumps were echoing through the walls. “They’re throwing firebombs at the outside of the house,” Hain said, turning back to the wall. “My home will be ash, one way or another.”

“Then we’d better get out of it,” Blade said, stepping forward as Hain tugged down another blanket. Then he crouched, running his talons over the back wall.

“Already ahead of you,” he said, drawing the tip of his claw along the base of the wall. A small, thin strip of wood began to peel away beneath his talon, revealing a faint crack. “Why do you think I gave him the idea of setting the place on fire?”

“You … What?” The air was getting hotter, dry against her throat.

“The cold comment, kit,” he said, pressing both talons against the wall and pressing it slightly. It gave, sliding back, and he eased off, glancing at her. “They’re always excited to set fire to something anyway. My home was burned the moment you decided to speak with me. Don’t feel bad.” He stepped over to the dresser and began putting on the harness. “They’d have come for me before long anyways. At least you tipped their hand in the matter.” The harness in place, he attached the knife in its sheath, next to his shoulder with the handle facing downward, and then reached into one of the dresser drawers and pulled out a small bit-bag.

He stepped back and gave the home one last look. The air was thick with smoke now, and Blade could feel her lungs trying to compress, to cough the burning haze back into the air. The floor beneath her was starting to get hot, and the fur on her haunches felt like it was going to singe before long.

“All right,” he said, bracing himself against the back wall once more. “As soon as I push this out, we need to be moving. Get across the rooftops and drop onto the next street. No flying. If they have watchers, they’ll see us.”

“They might see us anyway,” she said, and Hain nodded.

“So no—” A cough. “No flying, clear?” He pressed his shoulders up against the wooden outline. “Follow me.”

The square opening popped out of place like a window from a frame, a rush of cold air sweeping over her, ruffling her feathers as the pressure changed. She bolted forward, following Hain out of the gap and onto the roof of the next home over even as the flames behind her erupted in the presence of fresh oxygen, roaring to new intensity as they leapt free.

The wooden tiles were slick under her forelimbs, forcing her to spread her wings slightly for balance as they rushed across the roof towards a distant gap. The moon was still low on the horizon, but it was full, the faint silver light bathing everything in a dim glow and highlighting the silver-grey of Hain’s plumage.

A distant shout caused her to glance back, only to see a pegasus arcing through the air in their direction. “Hain!” she called. “Contact rear!” There was a meaty thunk as a crossbow bolt dug into the roof a few feet away, quivering.

“Get low!” he called, dropping and sliding on his belly over the edge of the roof. She followed his example, skidding across the wood and down into the street as another crossbow bolt shot past her head, whistling through the air. “Move!”

More shouts were sounding out behind them as they tore down the street, another crossbow bolt ricocheting off the frozen ground. They were moving down the street at high speed now, the buildings blurring past them as Hain ran for the nearest intersection and took a left. She wanted to fly, wanted to take to the air, but Hain was … Well, he knew what he was doing.

She hoped.

White hot pain cut through her flank as one of the crossbow bolts hit home, sinking deep into the muscle, and she bit back a scream of pain, gritting her teeth. “I’m hit!” she called, forcing herself to stay moving despite the tearing pain.

“A little further!” Hain called. “Keep moving!”

He’d better know what he’s doing, she thought as she pushed herself forward. Her right haunch felt as if it was tearing itself apart, the muscles fighting against one another. It must be barbed. Hain angled for a covered alleyway between two buildings, a small, dark gap against the wooden facade of the buildings. It’s working its way further in. Another bolt snapped off of the ground, shattering as the wood gave away. Up ahead, Hain ducked into the alleyway, safe beneath overlapping rooftops.

She spread her wings and lunged just in time, two bolts hitting the ground where she had just been. The end of the bolt in her haunch rapped the side of the alley as darted under cover, and she bit back another scream, her breath coming out in a strangled growl as her flank erupted in fire.

“This way,” Hain hissed, his voice low. He waved at her from out of the darkness, ushering her further into the alleyway. “This is part of the original layout of the town. These alleys are a maze in the dark. They won’t find us without burning half the town down.”

“And they won’t do that?” she said, her words coming in a rush as she fought to push the burning pain down. She could feel the tip of the bolt grating against her bone, scraping across her hip like a claw across a blackboard.

“No,” he said, shaking his head as he moved further back into the alleyways, taking turns seemingly at random. “Not without leave from Pyre.” Yells echoed down the hallway behind them as their pursuers began to follow them.

“Now what?” she asked, her voice low. There was a faint, throbbing pain starting in the back of her head, bringing with each thump a dizzy feeling that told her she was losing blood. The bolt must have done more damage than she’d thought.

“Now,” Hain said, his face barely visible in the near perfect darkness. “We get you to a doctor and lay low for a day or two.”

“While being followed,” she said, biting back another screech of pain as the crossbow bolt bumped against something once more. “Can we do that?”

“It’ll take us a few minutes to get there, but we can from here,” Hain said. “Follow me.” He turned and began moving through the darkness once again, his footfalls soft against the dry ground.

Behind them, the sounds of pursuit grew fainter as Hain led her through the maze of alleys, taking directions seemingly at random. Several times she was forced to duck low as they crawled beneath a gap that had been closed over, her belly sliding across dirt that hadn’t been touched in who knew how long. The throbbing sensation behind her head was growing more insistent, though the dizziness had peaked. A careful probing of her side showed that the flow of blood had mostly stopped, but with the bolt still in her, there was bound to be more damage occurring.

My luck with healing lately isn’t going to help me if I can’t get this bolt out, she thought as Hain turned once more. “Are we almost there?” she asked, keeping her voice low.

“Almost,” Hain said. “We actually haven’t gone that far. The alleys around the center of town are just really long if you don’t want to risk the street.”

“I’d rather not,” she said.

“Me neither,” he said. There was a rustling sound as he drew his talons across the wall. “But we’re here.” He knocked twice, then four times, then twice again, the sound echoing down the alley.

“Doctor?” she asked as she heard something shift behind the wall. Bright light lit the alley, a thin but growing line as someone pulled back a sliding door. She blinked back tears as her eyes tried to adjust to the sudden brightness.

“Better,” Hain said, crawling through the small opening and motioning for her to follow. “An alchemist.”

“A what?” she crawled through the gap after him, pressing her left side up against the rough wood and twisting her body as to avoid catching the crossbow bolt on the outer edges. “How in the skies did a zebra end up all the way up—?” Her words trailed off as her body dropped unceremoniously onto a rough wooden floor and she twisted her head back to see the dull-orange coat of the pony pushing the hatch shut behind her. “You’re not a zebra,” she said.

“No,” the earth pony replied, pressing his shoulder against the hatch and securing it with a click. He stepped away from the hatch, nodding in her direction as he turned towards a massive set of heavy, metal filing cabinets. “And you’re injured.”

“Well, yeah,” Blade said, picking herself from the floor and moving away from the entrance as her eyes adjusted. “That’s one reason why you’d see a doctor, at least in my book.”

The earth pony paused for a moment as he stepped up to the metal cabinets, then nodded his head. “Pretty good reason,” he said. Then he turned and put his shoulder up against the side of the cabinets.

No way he’s going to move those, Blade thought, eyeing the pony’s lean body. He can’t seriously be—With a faint groan, the mass of metal began to move, the faint rumble underfoot a sign that it was indeed as heavy as it looked. Maybe heavier.

I stand corrected, Blade thought as the cabinet slid back into place over the entrance she and Hain had just entered. Or, I guess, lay corrected, she thought as she glanced downward at herself. Still, he’s got some serious muscle on him. That thing looked big enough I wouldn’t want to move it.

She took a quick glance around the room they’d entered while the pony continued to move things around, thoroughly covering their entrance point—As well as our escape point if things go bad, Blade thought, glancing at Hain. Then again, if he’d thought this far ahead …

She was lying on the floor of what looked like a storage room. For records of some kind, if the files were any indication. Medical files, she guessed further as her eyes passed over some of the medical equipment racked along the shelves on the walls. Doesn’t look like there’s been much call for that, she thought as her eyes alighted over several of the plastic-wrapped pieces of equipment. Or maybe they’re just backups. That would explain what they were doing in a back room instead of being out and used.

Unless this pony isn’t a doctor, she thought, glancing towards their new ally where he was putting the finishing touches on his concealment of their entrance. There was something about the way that he moved, something that was just … off.

Or maybe I’m just suffering from a lack of blood. She glanced back at her haunch, finally able to get a good look at it now that she was somewhere well lit. Yeah, that looks like a pretty bad hit.It was the kind of hit that would take a week to heal with magical assistance, longer without, a searing gash in her flesh that ran across almost half of her hip. That sucker must have a nasty arrowhead. And with an injury like that … This mission’s off to a great start.

“Well!” The earth pony’s calm, almost cheerful voice pulled her away from her thoughts, and she looked up to see him standing next to her a friendly but concerned look on his face. “Can you walk, or do you need some assistance?” he asked.

“I can walk,” she said, pushing herself up and ignoring the lance of fire that ran across her haunches. “You got an operating room, doc?”

The pony shook his head as he trotted out of the room, his off-white mane swishing back and forth. There was still something odd about it—and him—that she couldn’t place her talon on. She took a quick look around the room, looking for Hain, only to realize that he’d already slipped out of the room while she’d been gawking like a fledgling.

Blood loss, she told herself, gritting her teeth as she took her first few steps forward and her head started to throb once again, more insistently than it had before. Now that the adrenaline was beginning to wear off, she could feel the effects more acutely.

The earth pony was speaking now, responding to her question, and she pulled her attention back as he finished up his sentence. “—a doctor,” he was saying as she followed him into a short hallway. “I mean, I guess I kind of am to everyone around here, but that’s just because I’m filling in for the last doc.”

“So you’re not a doctor, then,” she said, eyeing the blue flask on his flank that was his cutie mark. No, she realized. It wasn’t a blue flask, it was a flask with blue liquid in it. For whatever difference that makes with marks. “So are you a scientist then?” Her brain felt like slow moving sludge as she dredged up some of the names that she could see overlapping. “Biologist? Veterinarian?”

“No,” the pony said, rounding a door and stepping into what looked like a combination doctor’s waiting room and laboratory. “Like Hain said, I’m an alchemist.”

“You’re the alchemist?” Blade asked, squinting for a moment in confusion. Blood loss! some part of her mind sang. She ignored it. “Aren’t alchemists usually zebras?”

“They are,” the pony confirmed as he hopped up next to an elaborate collection of glass vials and tubes, his hooves darting out and twisting at various nozzles and paraphernalia. Hain was sitting on the far side of the room preening one of his wings, clearly settling after the run they’d just made, but she could see his eyes watching her.

“But,” the pony continued, “as you could probably deduce from the Erlenmare mark on my flank, and all the various vials and whatnot I’ve got around here—” He gestured with his hoof, pointing towards both the glasswork he was sitting in front of and a large cabinet along the wall that was full of all sorts of colored mixtures in various bottles. “It’s by no means a talent confined to the Plainslands.” He spun around on his seat, something about the motion still looking abnormally fluid to her eyes, and pointed a hoof towards an old, slightly musty-looking examination table. “So, take a seat, and let’s get that bolt out of your leg before it gets any worse. And before someone comes looking for you.”

“And if they do?” she asked as she crossed the room and climbed atop the low table, wrinkling her face at the musty smell the padding gave off. She was right. It was definitely old.

“Then we hide,” Hain said, his voice low. “Don’t worry, kit. I’ve had this planned for a long time. Even before the old doctor passed away.”

“What happened to him?” Blade asked, looking in his direction. Bright light poured across her flank as the earth pony lit a light—a proper magilight, not an oil lamp—and aimed it at her haunch.

“The cult killed him,” Hain said, plucking a stray feather free of his wings and placing it to one side. “He refused to go along with their policies one to many times.”

“A few years later I showed up,” the earth pony said, resting on his hind legs and eyeing the bloody mess on her flank. “Trust me, they’re not that fond of me either.”

“What do you do about it?” Blade asked as the pony darted over to his cabinet and began picking up various vials.

“Work on dredger ships and stay out of the way, mostly,” he said, setting a few corked bottles on his back. “I take my pay in ethereal crystals. It’s why I came here in the first place, actually.”

“The ethereal crystals?” she asked, confused. Her head was still throbbing.

“Ndiyo,” the pony said with a grin, setting the multicolored bottles on the counter next to her with an adroit level of skill before darting over to a large sink and picking up a few metal utensils. “I need them for …” He stumbled, frowning. “Let’s just call it a personal project.” He shook his head and trotted back across the floor. “By the way,” he said. “My name’s Alchemy. Most of the sapients around here just call me Al, though.”

“Wow,” Blade said, her voice dry. “I’m Blade, but, uh, pretty easy to figure out your special talent, huh?”

“Actually, no,” Alchemy said, shaking his head as he spun a metal cup up into his hand and uncorked a potion. “Though mostly that’s just because as a colt everypony called me ‘Mixer’ on account of all the trouble I got mixed up in. Half the ponies I knew as a kid couldn’t even remember my real name.” A scent like raw meat wafted into the air, tickling at her nostrils as he poured a small portion of the livid red potion into the cup. There was a faint hissing sound as it met the metal.

“Now,” he said, holding the cup out towards her. “This is a blood-restoration potion that’ll help replace that blood you lost if you drink it and enough water. I know it looks and smells a little off, but I need you—” His words stopped as she snatched the cup out of his hoof and downed the entire contents in one large gulp, suppressing a wince at the slimy texture and slightly off taste.

Hain chuckled. “She’s a soldier, Al. A merc. She’s on the clock. She’d pull that arrow out of her own flank if you asked her to.”

“Right,” Alchemy said, nodding and filling her cup once more, this time with water. “Now, the potion reacts with your own processes, so you should start feeling better—”

“Headaches gone,” she said as her mouth went dry. She grabbed the pitcher out of his hooves and guzzled it down. “Now, let’s take care of the arrow.”

Alchemy’s ears twitched, the only sign of surprise on his face that she could see. “It usually takes a bit longer,” he said, moving around towards where the bolt still sat wedged against her hip. “Are you under any effects of a recent healing spell?”

“No,” she said as he picked up another, smaller vial, and popped the cork off. He began drizzling the clear fluid inside it across her flank, where it began to foam, washing away the dried blood that had encrusted across her fur. “The last healing spell I got was about a week-and-a-half ago.”

“Odd,” Alchemy said, running a white cloth gently across her hip and wiping away the bloody foam. “And you’re sure the headache’s gone?”

“Yeah,” Blade said, eyeing the gash. “Rougher, doc.”

“Sorry,” he said, pulling his hoof back. “I can give you a potion for the pain—”

“Not what I meant,” Blade said as Hain let out a chuckle. “Get rough, okay?” She flicked the end of the bolt with one talon to illustrate her point, ignoring the sudden wave of spiky pain that swept through her body as the arrowhead ground against her hip. “I don’t care if it hurts, just get it out and patched up.” She snapped her talons against one another. Hain had left the couch and seemed to be waiting near what she guessed was the front door, his head tilted as if he was listening to something. “And make it fast.”

“Well ...” Alchemy said. Then his head snapped forward, jaws widening and locking around the back of the bolt. There was a sudden, searing pain in her right flank, mixed with a faint tugging sensation that came from inside the muscle, followed by more pain as the muscle tissue parted under the strain, and then the bolt was gone, the jagged, serrated head sliding free of her body with a faint sucking sound. She relaxed her body as the pain faded, staring down in surprise at the grooved dents her blunt talons had left in the metal.

She opened her mouth to take a breath, only to have Alchemy jam a bottle into her mouth, forcing her head back with surprising strength. The potion rolled over her tongue like slimy, tasteless sand, and she swallowed, the grit burning against her throat as it went down.

The effect was immediate, however. Even as he pulled the bottle away from her mouth, leaving her with with a gritty feeling across her teeth, she could feel something burning inside of her, like she’d swallowed a star. The energy slid through her in a gentle wave, expanding outwards from her stomach in a glowing rush. She glanced back at her wounded flank just in time to see the wound itself close up, the skin unbroken as if it had never been cut in the first place. She could feel the fibers of muscle above her hip pulling themselves together as well, binding themselves back together. With a sudden scraping sound, her talons grew out as well, sliding out of her and reaching their full, uncut length in moments. A second later it was all over, and she let out a heavy breath as the last of the energy left her.

“Well,” she said, flexing her talons and admiring the sharp edges. “I’ve got to hand it to you, Alchemy. I’d heard potions were pretty powerful stuff, but that even brought my talons back.” She rose from the table, stretching her wings and watching a few freshly replaced feathers settle into place before looking towards the dull-orange pony and seeing the stunned look on his face. “What?”

“You need to be examined,” he said, taking a slow step back from her. “That wasn’t a regenerative potion. I mean, not a big one.” She glanced over at Hain, only to find him giving her the same look. “That was a minor healing potion. It should have helped the muscle fibers knit together over the next few days. That …” He shook his head, apparently at a loss for words. “Something in you did that. It … supercharged it.”

“Yeah, well, whatever,” she said, stepping off of the table and preening one of her wings. She didn’t see any reason to voice her observations about how quickly she’d been healing since … well, since Mint and Radiant had patched her up after her fight with Hunter, actually.

They didn’t do something, did they? she thought, keeping her face neutral as she came to a stop. Some sort of experimental magic? She looked down at her claws and then back up at Alchemy. “Well,” she said, shrugging. “I’m better now. How much do I owe you?”

“Two-hundred and fifty bits,” Alchemy said, still giving her a suspicious look.

She caught herself before she flinched. I definitely don’t have that many bits left, she thought. I hope Hain does.

“But,” Alchemy said, taking a step towards her and then turning towards his collection of glassware. “I’ll waive it if you let me run a quick test, see what made that happen.”

“Some other time,” she said, shaking her head as she turned towards Hain. “Hain,” she said. “Do you have—”

“Quiet.” Hain’s low command cut through the room, and then the older griffon was darting past her. “Someone’s coming. Alchemy?”

The pony nodded, his expression serious as he moved with almost startling speed to sweep the potions he’d been using off of the table, followed by her molted feathers.

“Blade,” Hain said, tilting his head back towards the hallway. “This way.” She followed him, unable to resist letting her freshly regrown talons dig into the wood a little.

“It’ll be a little cramped,” Hain said, his voice low as he ducked into a small side room and peeled back a rug to reveal a trapdoor. ‘But it’s clean, and we’ll be to hear what goes on in the main room well enough.” He flipped the trapdoor open, revealing a set of steps leading down to a dark but clean wooden box. “And once we’re clear, you and I need to have a little talk. Not just about this job of yours.”

She nodded, though he doubted he was going to buy her explanation of “No idea.” He jerked his head once more, and she ducked down into the opening, her eyes adjusting to the dim light as voices rang out nearby.

“Ennuis.” Alchemy’s voice echoed down the hall as Hain made his way into the small hiding space, pausing to pull the rug back over the trapdoor before shutting it and blocking out all the light. “Looks like you’ve had a bit of an—”

“Spare the noise, mystic,” the minotaur barked. There was a loud, heavy, thud that resonated through the floor, and Blade slunk forward, feeling the confines of the hiding spot until her talons met a cold, wooden wall.

“You built this?” she whispered towards Hain.

The older griffon nodded. “About ten years ago. Hoped I’d never use it. The doctor humored me. Plus, I paid his bar tab. Now quiet.”

Up above, the conversation had grown only more heated. “Come on,” Ennuis was saying. “Where are those two. They couldn’t have gone far wounded, and you’re the first option in town anyone has. Where’d they go?”

“Probably one of the other options, Ennuis,” Alchemy said, his voice loud and clear. “You want me to take a look at that eye?” There was a pause, followed by a sudden thud as someone shifted their weight.

“Keep your hooves offa’ my eye, grunt. My eye is my business. My business, and the freak who got lucky with it.”

Show me your face, Blade thought, flexing her talons as she glared up at the floorboards. And I’ll show you luck when I carve out your other eye.

“Suit yourself,” Alchemy said. A number of steps were sounding out against the flooring now, forcing her to focus to identify what was being said. Ennuis had brought his crew with him.

“Ennuis!” someone called, their voice ringing out loud and clear. “There’s a bloody rag in this sink!” The feathers on back of Blade’s neck rose.

“Haven’t seen them, huh?” Ennuis asked, his tread heavy. “Then what’s with the blood?”

“Cut myself cleaning some broken glass,” Alchemy said. “Already patched it up, but I haven’t cleaned the rag yet.” There was another pause, broken only by the shifting of hooves on the floor.

“Boys!” Ennuis called. “Keep looking.” The hoofsteps began to fan out, spreading in various directions.

Sounds like maybe five or six of his crew, plus Ennuis himself, Blade thought, counting the separate hoofsteps Probably part of that same team that hit Hain’s place. She tapped two of her talons together, relishing the faint feel of the knifelike edges. This wouldn’t even be a contest, with them separated like that.

“Don’t even think about it,” Hain whispered. “The last thing they need is an excuse to burn down the town’s only medical center.”

“Right,” she said, slumping slightly. It was a good point. Even so, though ...

Up above her, the floor creaked as one of the ponies wandered across it, and she froze, holding her breath and letting it out as slowly as possible.

“So you’re sure you haven’t seen them?” Ennuis asked. There was another creak above them, hoofsteps sounding as one of the crew passed across the room. “So my boys aren’t going to find anything, are they?”

“Nothing worth finding,” Alchemy said, his voice cool. “You sure you don’t want me to look at that eye, though?”

“Drop it, bilge-rat,” Ennuis growled, his voice getting low. “I told you, my eye is my business.”

“Right, your call.”

Above her something shifted, and Blade tensed her body, turning her head slightly in the direction of the trapdoor. If it opens, hit hard and fast, she thought, a faint thrill running through her. Now that I’ve got my talons back, they’ll never know what hit them. I was almost a blademaster. A bunch of pirates? She smiled in the dark. They’ll fold like fledglings.

The hoofsteps moved back across the floor, and she let herself relax, almost disappointed. So much for that. Guess searching isn’t their strong suit.

“Hello,” came Ennuis’s voice from up above. “What do we have here?” There was a pause, followed by a heavy chuckle. “Hey, mystic. Where’d you get all this glitter?”

Glitter?

“I earned it,” Alchemy said. “Working on dredgers.”

Ennuis let out a laugh. “A likely story. A lean little runt like you, earning glitter on a dredger boat? I’ve got shrimps bigger ‘an you who couldn’t do that job. You’re lying.”

Dredgers, Blade thought. Glitter must be slang. Probably for the ethereal crystal powder.

“I assure you, it’s mine,” Alchemy said. “My share, earned for my research.”

“Hah!” Ennuis said. “Not likely.” Boards creaked as he shifted his weight. “Hey boys, come look what I found!” Footsteps rang through the hideaway as Ennuis’s crew came jogging back. “Looks like our mystic’s been stealing glitter on the side!”

“I didn’t steal it—” Alchemy began. Blade turned, starting towards the trap door. If things got rough …

“Sure you did,” Ennuis said, laughing. “If you didn’t pay your taxes to us and the cult, that’s basically stealing. Who know how long you’ve been doing it. So …” Glassware shifted somewhere above, faintly tinkling. “We’ll just collect this—”

“Put that down.” Alchemy’s words came out firm as steel rods, and suddenly the laughter from above stopped.

“Hain,” Blade whispered. “They’re—”

“In for a big surprise, kit,” Hain said. “Stay quiet.” She pulled her head up in surprise, remembering to stop moments before she hit it on the roof of their hideout.

“You want to run that by me again, shrimp?” Ennuis asked, his voice dripping with contempt. “Because I think you just said something you didn’t mean to say.”

“You heard me,” Alchemy said, his voice clear. “I told you to put that down. That glitter is mine, for medical purposes only. If you take it—” What was left of his reply was drowned out by the sound of Ennuis laughing.

“Medical purposes?” Ennuis laughed again, his voice booming through the center, and Blade felt a long, slow desire to bury her claws in his throat. “Look, half-pint. If you earned this glitter the right way, then you can get more. But since you’ve been holding out on us, we’ll just take—”

There was a sudden bang as something hit the floorboards hard, and Blade jerked. The laughter from above was gone, replaced instead by a strangled cough that ended with a heavy thud.

“I told you,” Alchemy said, his voice cool once more. “Leave it.”

“Why you little—!”

“Okay then. The hard way.”

Blade’s eyes widened as the floor rattled and shook, a series of hoofsteps cracking into the floorboards. She could hear bodies slamming into the floor, mixed with crashes and the sound of wood breaking, and whoever was going down definitely wasn’t getting up. It was like listening to a fight, except one that wasn’t a straight up punch-out. From the abrupt sounds, and the sudden descent of following silence, it had been almost like an ambush.

What did he do? Blade thought as a long sigh came from above them. Did he pull some sort of potion on them?

“Well … Tartarus,” Alchemy said. “I actually didn’t mind living here. Guess it was nice while it lasted.” Then he raised his voice. “Hain? Blade? We’ve got a problem!”

Moments later, she followed Hain around the corner of the hall and came to a stop, her wings twitching. There had been five of the pirates on the group from the look of it, plus Ennuis. Now …

All five of them were spread around the room, save for one either comatose or in too much pain to indicate otherwise. The last one awake was curled at the base of the examination table, faintly gasping as if he couldn’t breath, and his eyes widened when they saw her and Hain. Alchemy’s hoof came down on the side of his head with a hollow thump, and the bandit’s eyes rolled back as he slumped to the side, unconscious.

“Thunderheads,” Blade said, her beak dropping slightly as she saw Ennuis stretched out across the floor, one arm twisted at an awkward angle. A large beaker full of glittering dust was sitting on the floor nearby, an upright beacon of order amid all the chaos. Chairs had been smashed, beakers scattered … though from the look of it, most of the destruction had been as result of impacts, not because someone had made use of anything as a weapon. “You did all this?”

“Uh, yeah,” Alchemy said, giving her an embarrassed grin as he crossed over to the potion cabinet, which—Blade noticed—hadn’t been damaged in the melee. Probably as a precaution.

“How?” Blade asked, bending down near one of the pirates and picking out the imprint of a hoof in the mare’s chest. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, with my talons back these guys would be toast, but that fast?” She looked over at the dull-orange pony to find him taking a small sip of a blue potion. “What, you got some kind of super-speed potion?”

“Something like that,” Alchemy said, a shiver running through his body as he corked the potion back up. “Guess I’d better disappear though. He’s not going to be too happy when he wakes up.”

“You let him live?” Blade stepped over to the splayed out minotaur, looking down at the ragged bandage he’d wrapped over his eye. “Why not just kill him?”

“I’m a doctor, not a killer,” Alchemy said quickly, his head snapping in her direction just a little too quickly. Even he looked surprised by it, for a small moment. “I did what I had to do to defend myself.”

“Blade,” Hain warned, his voice low. “Don’t even think about it.”

“I honestly wasn’t,” she said, rolling her eyes. “No honor in it.” She turned to step away and then paused. “However, he is a dirtbag, so …” The snap of one of his fingers echoed through the examination room, and she shrugged, smirking at Hain and Alchemy, who were giving her looks of disinterest and shock, respectively.

“What?” she asked. “The finger’s on the broken arm. He’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, well I won’t,” Alchemy said, crossing to floor and picking up the vial of ethereal crystal. “This stuff is hard to get anywhere else. How am I supposed to get my hooves on it if I have to leave the Ocean?”

“Is it that important?” Blade said, cocking an eyebrow at him.

“Yes,” he replied, his eyes fixed on the small vial. “It actually is. I have a condition. Without a regular dose of potion that needs ethereal crystal to stabilize, I’ll die.”

“Oh,” she said, her feathers going flat. “Sorry. How much do you have there?”

He let out a sigh. ‘About three months worth.”

“So buy some more,” she suggested. He shot her a glare.

“This vial is worth about three or four thousand bits,” he said, tossing it with one hoof. “Wholesale. That’s why I came here in the first place. I can’t easily ‘buy more’ when it costs that much.”

“Actually,” Hain cut in. “What if you could?”

Alchemy stopped, a look of curiosity sliding across his muzzle. “What do you mean by that?” he said. “This stuff isn’t cheap.”

“No,” Hain said as he gave the pony a sly grin. “But luckily for you, neither are Ms. Sunchaser’s contracts.”

“What?” Blade almost took a step back as both turned toward her.

“Blade, you’re still looking to finish your job, right?” She nodded. “And you wanted my advice?” She nodded again.

“Well then, my advice is to hire Alchemy. As a healer, and a fighter.”

“I …” She took a quick look around the room, eyeing the smashed furniture. He could fight, that much was clear.

“Of course,” Hain said. “I could only give you that advice if I was officially part of your team.

Team? Now wait a minute, didn’t he—

“I know what you’re thinking,” he said, shrugging. “I turned you down. But that was before these motherless whelps burned my home and tried to kill me.”

“Didn’t you say you didn’t mind that?” she asked.

“I lied,” Hain said, scowling. “Your client wants something the cult has, right?”

“Wait,” Alchemy said, frowning. “The cult? As in, the cult—?”

“Badly,” she said.

“How badly?” Hain shot back.

“There’s no way I’m getting tangled up with—”

“Two-hundred thousand bits badly.”

Alchemy choked, his eyes going wide. “Two-hundred thousand …?”

“Yeah,” she said, grinning as she glanced over at Hain, who had a similarly surprised look on his face. “They want it bad.”

“Who—” Hain began, only to cut off as she shook her head. “Fine,” he said. “Two hundred thousand. Fifty for me, and fifty for you, Al. What do you say?”

“Fifty …” Alchemy shook his head, his eyes blinking. “You’re serious?”

“Completely,” Blade said, tapping her talons against the floor in a rhythmic pattern. “That’s a lot of glitter.”

“Years worth,” Alchemy said, nodding. “And all we’ve got to do is retrieve something from the cult?”

She nodded. “Yep.”

“Alright,” Alchemy said, letting out a laugh. “You know what? You’ve got yourself a deal.” He held out his hoof. She glanced at Hain, waiting for his nod before taking it.

He took out this whole room, she reminded herself. Whatever he is, Hain thinks he’s worth it.

“Good,” Hain said as she let go. “Now, we can hammer out the details later, but first, we need to skip town. That or hunt down and kill Ennuis’s men one by one.” He looked up at Blade. “Blade, you’re in charge. What’s the call? Got any ideas?”

“Where are we going?” she asked. “You have an idea, I assume?”

“Ender’s Isle,” he said. “If we want to get this item back, we’ll need to find someone who knows the cult who isn’t a cultist. I know just who to ask. It’s west of here about two days, so we’ll need to secure some form of transportation.”

“What about public transit?” she asked.

Alchemy shook his head. “Only leaves every few days. We could book passage on a dredger, but that would take about as long, and there’s no guarantee that we’d find one going out to Ender’s Isle. Besides, we’d need a lot of bits.”

“I’m sure Ennuis and his friends can help pitch in,” Blade said, giving one of them a light kick. “Or better yet …” She let out a laugh.

“What?” Hain asked.

“Alchemy,” she said, turning in his direction. “Did Ennuis say how many of his crew were out looking for us?”

“Uh, most of them, I think,” he said.

“Right,” she said, grinning. “What about the town? Is it busy right now?”

“With half the townsponies out trying to keep what’s left of Hain’s house fire from spreading?” he asked. “Half of it will be abandoned, the rest of it packed.”

“Right,” she said, her grin widening as she looked down at Ennuis. “So, my question is, which side of town did Ennuis berth his ship on?”

Count of Laws Broken: 0
Total Laws Broken: 48
Damage Value (In Bits): 4,672
Total Damage Value (In Bits): 37,213

Chapter 5 - The Manticore

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Ruffian’s Wharf - West Docks

“All right,” Blade said, eyeing the faint shape of the Manticore as it bobbed up and down next to the dock. “That’s it, right?”

“Yes,” Hain said, his voice barely carrying over the faint whistling wind and the deep groan of the ice grinding against the shore. “That’s Ennuis’s ship.”

“It doesn’t look like much,” she said, eyeing the flat-bottom as the vessel tugged against the dock. “It looks like a river boat.” The front of the ship was turned away from them, the prow facing out towards the ice, the silver moonlight just bright enough that she could make out the shape of the underside as it floated above the ice.

“It’s an old dredger,” Alchemy said, the dull-orange earth pony appearing by her side as if by magic. “They stole it and rebuilt it about fifteen years back. Turned the hull space into a weapons depot and crew quarters, stuff like that. Pretty typical for around here.” She glanced at him, one eyebrow cocked, and he shrugged. “Ennuis brags a lot,” he said by way of explanation.

“Right,” she replied, turning her gaze back towards the Manticore. The wind picked up, gusting, and she watched as the ship twisted slightly, the lines securing it to the dock going tight before slackening once more. “And you’re sure we can pilot the thing?”

“We can crew it, if that’s what you mean,” Hain said, pointing one claw out from their hiding spot. “The Manticore only has a single mast and the two side-sails,” he said, pointing them out. “Even if it wasn’t modernized, we could crew her easily enough.”

“No propellers,” Blade said, frowning as she ran her eyes over the rear end of the ship. “Too new?”

“That and fuel’s a bit costly,” Hain said, dropping his claw back into the shadows and glancing in her direction. “So, leader, what’s the plan?”

“Give me a minute.” She eyed the faint ship, rolling her gaze across it and the dock. It really did remind her of the river scows she’d seen used by the Rover clan back home, long and wide with a raised, well-lit rear bridge atop at least two levels of cabin structure that let the captain of the ship see his entire deck spread out before him, safe from the elements. Except where those scows had ridden low in the water, piled with goods bound for the nearest naval ports, and had borne an impressive crane arrangement in the center of the deck, the Manticore was floating gently above the surface of the ice, its deck clear from what glimpses she was getting, and it lacked the heavy, metal arm of a crane.

Still, the plan would work. Provided they could get to the Manticore and clear it without anyone noticing them.

All right, she thought, studying the back of the ship, keeping her eyes just off to the side of the well-lit windows so her eyesight wouldn’t adjust. A faint shadow moved across one of the windows, and she nodded. So there’s at least one pony inside, and then … The Manticore twisted once again as the wind gusted, turning just enough to the side that she could make out a faint lump leaning over the side of the railing. Another guard? The shape turned, moving down the deck, and she nodded. Guard.

“I see one guard on the deck, and there’s at least one other pirate inside,” she said, glancing at Alchemy and Hain. “You two see anyone else?”

“There’s probably a third guard inside,” Hain said. “Unless Ennuis really is foolish, there’s bound to be a relief down below somewhere, keeping the oil-heater going and relaxing until their watch.”

“Right,” Blade said, nodding and looking back towards the ship. “Three guards then. One on the bridge, one on deck, and one below. We come from the rear, flying low. Hain, you see the rear walkway behind the cabin?” She could barely make it out against the shadow of the ship, but the railing was visible enough, marking an open space that wrapped around the back and sides of the ship’s bridge.

“Yeah,” he said. “Barely.”

“We come in low and then angle up to land on that,” she said, mentally mapping the plan of attack inside her mind. “One of us goes up onto the roof and gets into position to take down the guard on the deck.”

“What’s the signal?” Hain asked.

She paused. Right, we can’t say anything. “Count of ten,” she said, nodding. “From the moment one of us slips up onto the roof.”

“What about me?” Alchemy asked.

“Move up the dock,” she said, turning her attention towards the long, empty stretch of wood. There were no other ships berthed along its length. Apparently no one wanted to be close to the Bloodhooves’ ship. “With luck, the guard won’t be able to make out who you are and will assume you’re just one of them. But,” she said, glancing in the direction of the lean earth pony and eyeing the heavily packed saddlebags thrown across his back. “Try not to get too close until we’ve already made our move.”

Alchemy nodded, his expression unreadable, and she turned her attention back towards the Manticore. “Once the guard on the bridge has been taken down—silently as possible—we’ll converge on the lower levels and root out any troublemakers.”

“And if there’s a whole group of pirates sleeping belowdecks?” Alchemy asked.

“Then I get to see how you pulled off what you did back at the hospital,” Blade said, crouching and spreading her wings. “Hain? You ready?”

“Who am I going for?” he asked, lowering his body into a crouch. “Deck? Or bridge?”

“Uh … deck,” she said, picking at random. It’s been years since I’ve worked with anyone else like this, she thought as she turned her eyes skyward. I’m not used to having to think about breaking tasks up like this. “Wait for it …” The sky was mostly cloudless, but here and there small bits of grey fluff drifted across the sky like wool. It wasn’t enough to block out the brilliant light of the moon, low in the sky to the southeast, but it would hopefully be enough to give them a little cover.

There! The moon dimmed slightly as the tail end of one of the clouds passed over it, and she darted out from under the warehouse overhang they’d been hiding under, Hain following a moment later. She spread her wings, her talons digging into the frozen ground and kicking up small clumps of dirt as she ran down towards the silt-covered beach, where tons of ice had ground against the rocky shoreline over and over again until there was nothing left but a barrier of fine dirt.

She used the silt as a launching point, kicking off of it and spreading her wings wide as she soared over the ice. Up ahead, the stern of the Manticore loomed, the dull moonlight just enough to paint the lumpy-looking surface in sterile grey. She tilted back as the rear of the vessel drew closer, tucking her wings towards her hindquarters and giving herself a final boost upwards, her talons reaching out and easily digging into the wood below the railing. With the last of her upwards momentum, she pulled her body up and over onto the narrow walkway, tucking her wings close to her sides and pressing herself gently up against the side of the cabin. Hain was just a few feet away, his own eyes alert as he pulled himself up. He gave her a single look, a nod, and then, picking a spot between the rear windows of the bridge, slid up onto the roof, so silent he might as well have been a mirage.

Ten count, she told herself as she began to slide across the walkway, ignoring the pull of the rough wood as it tugged at her belly fur. There was a small, narrow door set into the back of the bridge, barely wide enough for her to fit through, but it would have to do. Six … She rose up slowly, keeping herself well below the rear windows, and wrapped her talons around the door’s handle.

Three. Alchemy moving down the dock, trying to look as casual as possible. It didn’t really work, though the moonlight was at least hiding the color of his coat. Two. Beyond him, the raised vantage point of the bridge was enough that she could see distant flames still burning near the eastern side of the town, around where Hain’s home had been immolated. Hopefully the fire hadn’t spread too far before the townsfolk had gotten it under control.

One. Her grip tightened, digging into the cold metal, and then she whipped the door open, exploding across the interior of the bridge. A stunned earth pony looked up at her in surprise, his tattooed jaw dropping in shock as her fist swept in towards his head. The faint thunk of the impact reverberated up her foreleg as the pale-green pony folded, his eyes rolled back into his head as he slumped. She snaked her other foreleg beneath his barrel as he collapsed, not stopping but slowing his fall so that the sound of his body hitting the deck was muffled.

Hain? she wondered as she stepped around the comatose pony, looking out through the large windows at the bridge’s front. They stretched from ceiling to floor, tilted forward at the top to give her the best possible view of the deck. Below her she could just make out the faint shape of Hain as he shoved a limp looking pegasus over the rail. The body plummeted out of sight as it dropped toward the ice.

All right, that’s a kill, Blade thought as the shape that was Hain turned towards her. She gave him a nod, fully aware that he could see it. Given what the pirates would have done to them, though … Now just to take care of that last—

A door burst open down on the deck, light spilling out from within one of the cabins below her as a diamond dog stepped out. He froze in surprise for a brief moment as he saw Hain, and then his hand was darting for the small crossbow hanging at his side even as the griffon began to lunge forward.

Neither of them made it. Alchemy appeared out of nowhere, his hooves flying in a rapid, sweeping series of movements that crashed into the diamond dog’s head and chest. The blows moved so fast they were almost impossible to track, Alchemy’s hooves a blur as he drove his target back with hit after hit. The diamond dog made one desperate punch back, and Alchemy stepped to the side, wrapping his forehooves around the dog’s arm and heaving the heavy sapient up and over his body. Blade felt her jaw drop as the lean earth pony threw his target, rolling him across his body and sending him sailing over the side of the Manticore to land on the dock in a heap.

How … How did he do that? she thought, her mind reeling as Alchemy darted in the open door. A moment later she heard the sound of hooves rapping against wood, and she turned to see him coming up the interior stairs, rising onto the bridge with a fluid grace that now looked more off than ever.

“How—?”

He cut her off with a wave of his hoof as he slid to a stop in front of the ship’s wheel. “Later. Hain can get the rigging for the sails that isn’t automatic checked from out there, but someone needs to cut the mooring lines.” He glanced down at the unconscious earth pony she’d left on the floor. “And unless we’re bringing him with us—”

“I got it,” she said, grabbing one limp hoof and dragging the green pony across the floor. He was heavy, but not heavy enough she wouldn’t be able to toss him over the side to the dock with his friend. Or onto the ice. But killing an unconscious opponent wasn’t right, even if he probably would have returned the favor.

Hain was already up in the rigging when she stepped out onto the deck, the icy cold wind immediately reminding her how warm the inside of the ship had been. And that she still didn’t have any warm covering other than her ragged-looking scarf.

The green pony’s body made a muffled thump against the dock as she tossed him over the rail, his head banging against the thick wood. On a whim she glanced at the nearby form of the diamond dog. Maybe he’d been smaller than she’d thought, and his apparent size had just been a trick of the light?

But no, she could see the vastness of his build from the Manticore. He was easily almost as large as Ennuis had been. And this opponent hadn’t been wounded beforehand.

Clearly there’s more to you than you’re letting on, she thought as she took a quick glance up at the bridge. Alchemy was standing on his hind legs behind the wheel, pulling at levers, his attention turned up towards the rigging on the central mast. I’m definitely going to ask about that as soon as we make it out of here, she thought as she turned towards the mooring lines. It’s time to learn about the capabilities of my “team.”

The mooring lines were thick, but not so thick that a few moments sawing with her newly regrown talons couldn’t cut through them. The first rope parted and slithered over the gunwale, dropping away towards the ice as she moved for the second line. It too parted, and then there was only one line left, growing tight near the front of the ship as the rearwind pushed the ship forward. It snapped before she’d cut it all the way through, the two halves dropping away; the Manticore lurching beneath her feet as it jerked free of the dock.

Small sails rippled above her as they caught the wind, pulling the ship even further away from the dock. The Manticore began to bob almost immediately, rising and falling as it slipped silently over the ice, gliding on the wind. It was, she decided, a little like being on an ocean, but without the sound of rushing water slapping against the sides of the boat or crashing over itself in endless waves. All that there was in its place was the endless groan of the ice.

“First time on an ice skimmer?” Hain asked as he dropped down from above, tucking his wings close to his sides as the wind picked up once more. Up above, the lights of the bridge went out, leaving the deck lit by nothing but moonlight.

She nodded. “Never thought I would ride on one until I knew I was coming here. It’s weird.”

“It is,” Hain said, rocking slightly as the boat kicked beneath them. ‘Still, it’s the only way to cross the ice.”

“Right.” She turned, eyeing the already shrinking shoreline and pile of buildings that was Ruffian’s Wharf. “You think they’ll follow us?” she asked, eyes narrowing.

“Are you asking for a hunch, or my tactical assessment?” Hain asked.

“The assessment,” she said, stepping over to the side of the boat and resting her forelegs on the gunwale. There was a swivel mount nearby, the kind that was used to steady large crossbows or other weapons when they fired. She made a note to check the ship’s armory later and see if there were indeed weapons. Ruffian’s Wharf was still sinking into the distance, but the tense feeling in her gut hadn’t quite left yet. “I want to know if they can catch us.”

“Follow us, certainly,” Hain said, resting his forelegs on the railing next to her. “I doubt they’ll catch us, though. Most of the boats in Ruffian’s Wharf are dredgers like this one used to be. They’re heavy, and generally have even less sail.” There was a rumble beneath the deck, and outriggers began to fold out from rear of the Manticore, fanning out to both sides and spreading additional sailcloth between them. Down below, the ice began to slide past at an even quicker rate.

“But if you’re wondering how long you’ll need to wait until that nervous feeling in your gut goes away,” he said, dropping back down onto the deck. “Well, it won’t.”

“What?” she asked, tearing her gaze away and looking at him. “What do you mean?”

The older griffon shrugged, the grey of his feathers looking even more bland than normal in the moonlight, though it did serve to highlight the faint black speckling across his wings that had at one point probably been a lot more vivid. “You just stole a ice boat from the Bloodhooves, kit. If you rest easy before you’re well away from here, you’re not thinking hard enough about the consequences.”

“Great advice,” she said, her voice dry. “I’ll keep it in mind.”

Hain shook his head. “A good tactical assessment isn’t always a glowing one, kit. A good tactical assessment is one that’s honest. Do I believe that anyone from Ruffian’s Wharf can catch us right now? No, I don’t.” He shook his head. “But regardless of that, a well-padded griffon or pegasus pony could catch up to us in the next few miles if they were able to keep warm enough.”

“Right,” Blade said, turning her eyes skyward. “So we’ll need to keep an eye out.”

“More than that,” Hain replied. “Ennuis isn’t going to let this go. Neither will the Bloodhooves. Or the cult, once they get word that you’re looking for them.”

“Yeah, well that I don’t mind,” she said, turning and giving him a grin. “Cracking heads is what I get paid to do usually anyway. If they want to come to me instead of me having to look for them, that’ll make this job a lot easier.”

“Easy …” Hain shook his head. “Kit, I don’t know how many jobs you’ve been on, but they usually don’t qualify as easy.”

“You don’t know my jobs,” Blade said, unable to hold back a faint chuckle as she looked back in the direction of Ruffian’s Wharf. “So far, this one doesn’t even seem that odd. Especially not compared to my last one.”

“Which was?” Hain prompted.

“A long story,” she said, shaking her head. “One involving some seriously questionable unicorns and a special forces division. Oh, and a building.” She turned towards him, hiding a shiver from the cold—or from something else—with her wings. “A building that collapsed … along with some other stuff that’s kind of classified.” Like the soulless golems. Lots of them. Though those had been kind of cool.

“If you say so, kit,” Hain said, turning towards the cabin door. “So, why don’t you come in and we’ll watch through the rear windows so we don’t freeze to death. And while you’re at it, we can get some things straight about this team.”

“Like what?” she asked, turning to follow him as he opened the door and stepped inside, light cascading across the deck. “And shouldn’t we check the rest of the boat for other occupants?”

“Probably,” Hain said, waiting for her inside the door. She shut it behind her as she entered, closing off the cold chill of the outside air. “And we should probably douse the lights down here, too. Plus check the oil reserves to make sure that we’re topped off, just in case we aren’t.”

“So I should do it?” Blade asked, lifting an eyebrow as she looked at him.

“No,” Hain said, shaking his head. “That would mean I was giving you orders. First things first, chick, let’s make this clear about this little team you’ve put together. I am not in charge. Got it?”

“But—” She blinked, her tail slashing through the air behind her. “That’s why I wanted to hire you.”

“You hired me to advise,” Hain said, his voice firm and brokering no argument. “And to fight, if needed. But I will not lead. That’s your job.”

“And if I order you to lead?” Blade asked, resting back on her haunches.

“Then I quit,” Hain said. “Head for Equestria. Or somewhere other than the Ocean. I’m not welcome here any more.”

“So then you’re going to …?”

“Advise, like I said.” Hain sat back and glanced at the nearby oil lamp. “For instance …”

“Someone needs to turn that down or off,” Blade said, nodding. “I get it. Why don’t you do that, and I’ll check below decks for any other surprises.”

“And if you find any?” Hain asked, rising and lowering the lamp with one carefully placed talon.

“That’s what these are for,” Blade said, clicking her talons together for emphasis. “I’ll meet you on the bridge in a few minutes.

So now I’m the leader now, she thought as she made her way below, pausing to check the oil heater and its supply when she found it. The long, cylindrical tank was almost full, and she moved on, checking the ship’s rooms one by one. It wasn’t spacious by any means, but it was certainly liveable. The crew quarters were laid out in a series of somewhat orderly bunkbeds. The galley was stocked, though the food looked fairly subpar, and the armory, when she found it, was decently supplied with blades, a variety of griffon-made crossbows—most heavily modified—and even some gunpowder. There was a forward armory as well, with deck access ports—probably for servicing the deckside weapon emplacements.

No cannons, though, she thought as she worked her way back. Then again, it was a small, refurbished dredger. Maybe they hadn’t wanted to take the time and effort when a ballista with an explosive head was easier to manage.

She moved up, back to the main deck level and then past it, and found that most of the next level, the one directly beneath the bridge, had been taken up by what looked like a gaudy, over the top captain’s cabin, complete with what looked like trophies, a safe in one corner, and a number of maps strewn across the desk.

I’ll look at those later, Blade thought, giving the room’s corners a quick check and finding nothing. There might be something useful on them, or maybe—hello, what’s this? Something glimmered in the faint light, shining on one end of Ennuis’s desk. Is this … It is!

It was a revolver. An old one, from the dents in the metal and the questionable appearance. But a revolver nonetheless. Faint words had been stamped across one side of the metal barrel, words that looked like Griffon but upon closer examination appeared to be worn and faded Minos. Which made sense. The minotaur engineers had been one of the first to come up with a firearm, after all.

Huh, she thought, hefting the revolver in her palm and wrapping her talons around the grip. It was a bit heavy, and her long talons made it awkward to grip, but even so.

Maybe Hain would want it, she thought, checking the chamber to make sure it was empty before setting it back down on the desk. Though I’ll bet Ennuis is going to be mad we’ve got it. Not that it was any sort of prize. It’d probably jam before making it through all seven shots, she thought as she left the cabin. If he even has ammo for it. Gunpowder isn’t cheap, and neither are bullets. Assuming he had any of the latter to begin with. Someone would have to check later. She doused the lights and left.

Up on the darkened bridge, Alchemy was at the wheel, though he didn’t seem to be doing much but keeping an eye on the ice ahead. Hain was standing near the back, looking out one of the rear windows. He looked in her direction as she climbed up the stairs, moonlight cutting across his face. “Find anyone?”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “You?”

“I haven’t seen anyone following us, if that’s what you mean,” he said, turning his attention outside the window once more. “We’re not far enough away that we can stop worrying about it though. We’ll have to give it a few hours.”

“Right,” she said, nodding. It was a little unsettling the way he kept deferring to her. Even if he had declared her the leader of the group. “So, you suggested—” He coughed, and she shook her head. Right. I need to get answers about this group.

“So,” she said, starting again. “If I’m going to be in charge of this group, we’ll need to get some things straight. Like first,” she said, turning towards Alchemy. “I want to know how in the sands of Turuncu you, Alchemy—” The dull-orange pony looked in her direction, a look of faint surprise on his face. She didn’t stall. “—managed to throw a diamond dog several times your weight and size over the side of the boat. For that matter, you cleared out a whole room full of ponies and one slightly injured minotaur.”

“So could you,” Alchemy said, leaning over and pulling one of the levers on the side of the steering console. There was a dull thunk as something—probably an autopilot—engaged, and Alchemy turned, giving her his full attention. “Between yourself and Hain, you two probably could have fought off his entire crew if you needed to.”

“Yeah,” she said, grinning as she flexed her talons. “We could, couldn’t we?” A glance at Hain showed that he was shaking his head, and she snapped her attention back towards Alchemy. “That’s Hain and I though, and I know where he and I stand. I’m one bout away from being a bıçak ustası, a blademaster.” She saw Hain’s eyes widen at the revelation, and couldn’t resist flashing him a grin. That’s right, she thought. I didn’t mention that did I? But I am now. “He might have suspected,” she said, lifting one pair of talons. “But since I’d trimmed my talons and ruined half of my repertoire, in addition to being on my back feet for the fight he saw, he probably didn’t guess. Now you know,” she said, nodding in his direction.

“And I hired Hain because he’s a tactical genius,” she said, turning back towards Alchemy. “I doubt if he’s told you, but he served in the Regency Wars.”

“Blade …” Hain said, a warning tone in his voice. She shot him a glare.

“Deal with it,” she said. Hain’s eyes flashed, his wings twitching outward ever so slightly. “I won’t bring up all the details, Al,” she said as she moved her eyes back towards the pony. “You’ll have to pry those out of Hain on your own time. Or out of a history book.” There was a sharp hiss of breath warning her that she was getting close to flying too far. “But the point is,” she said, dialing it back and noting that Hain’s talons had scraped the wood underneath the window. “Hain’s a masterful tactician with an eye for patterns and exploitable weaknesses. I figured if I needed intelligence about the Ocean, he could offer it. And now that I know I’m going to need to deal with a slightly militarized cult, I want him for his tactical advice. His fighting prowess doesn’t hurt either.”

“Which brings us to you,” she said, sitting back. “I hold the contract, and I can fight better than most creatures alive. Hain is a brilliant tactician who can plan out a battle plan that could trick his opponents into fighting one another. You though …?” She let the words hand in the air. “Hain recommended you, and clearly you can fight. Plus probably fill in for a doctor when we need it. But ... You’re hiding something. And I need to know what it is.”

Alchemy’s face had hardened, though it didn’t look like he was angry. Just … unsure. He turned towards Hain, his head cocking to one side as if saying “Should I?”

“Just tell her, Alchemy,” Hain said, his voice a little more tight than normal. Maybe she had pushed things a little far. “She’ll figure it out anyway, and she is the one in charge.”

“She’s not telling us everything, though,” Alchemy said. “She hasn’t told us who we’re working for, for example.” He looked back in her direction. “Or how she did that healing trick earlier.” The look on his face wasn’t hostile, but the slight narrowing of his eyes made the suspicion in his voice all the more evident. “Shouldn’t this be an even trade?”

Blade shook her head and laughed. “Believe me,” she said. “If I knew how I’d done that healing thing earlier, I’d tell you all about it. I really don’t know, though if you’re curious, it’s been going on for almost two weeks now.” Ever since the night I lost to Steel. She shoved the thought away. There would be time to dwell on it later. “You’re more than welcome to try and figure it out, but all I know is I’ve been in pretty good health since then.”

Alchemy sat back, but the look of suspicion was mostly gone. Instead, it was being replaced by a look she’d seen before on other ponies, usually when they encountered a griffon for the first time: Curiousity. A hunger for knowledge.

“Now, as far as who’s hired me and why,” she said, sitting back on her haunches and picking her words carefully. “For now, you don’t need that information, and I doubt my employer would want word of it getting out.”

“In other words,” Hain said, leaning forward. “Your employer doesn’t want their name attached to whatever it is we’re going to most likely do?”

She gave him a nod. “That’s definitely one way to put it,” she said. “All you need to know is that they’re paying us, and paying us well. But the contract rests with me, so—”

“So no backstabbing, I get it,” Alchemy said, resignation on his face as he waved his hooves. “Fine. But I’m going to ask that you do the same with what I’m about to tell you.”

“Not backstab you with it?” Blade asked. “Or not let word of it get out?”

“Both, preferably.” Alchemy sat back and let out a long sigh. “Look, what I’m about to tell you may sound strange but … Look, what if I just show you?”

“Show me what?” she asked. “That you can throw a diamond dog three times your size?”

“No, I—” Alchemy shook his head and took a step towards her. “Here, this is the easiest way, all right? Just hit me.”

“What?”

“I’m serious,” he said, tilting his head back. “Hit me. Right on the chin.”

Blade glanced at Hain, who seemed to be watching with a bemused expression. “Are you—?”

“Just do it,” Alchemy said. “Hard as you can. Or at least,” he said, grinning. “Try to.”

She narrowed her eyes as Alchemy gave her a smug look, and then stepped forward, tensing the muscles in her body. “All right …” she said, eyeing his body and looking for any signs of tenseness or careful positioning. He looked relaxed, but with the confident look he was giving her. “Here—”

She didn’t finish her sentence, lashing out with first one fist, and then, even as his eyes snapped to it, pulling it back and using the reversal to add more force to her other fist as it rocketed toward his chin.

It missed. His head snapped to the side, her fist sliding past his cheek harmlessly. She pulled it back to a ready stance, eyeing him as he gave her a smug smile.

“Try again,” he said, tilting his chin upwards. “If you’re fast enough.”

She went for an uppercut, her knuckles arcing upward beneath his jaw … and once again meeting air as he seemed to just slide out of the way.

“You’re fast,” she said as he slid back into his relaxed stance. “Really fast.”

“No,” he said, shaking his head and closing his eyes. “Try again. Come on, weren’t you just telling us you were almost a bikak whatever? It sounds impressive, and Hain seemed to think it was, come on, just—”

Her spread talons lashed out, aiming for his chest this time rather than his head. It was a clear target, harder to move than his head, and she pulled her claws back, driving her palm towards his sternum.

She missed. Again, Alchemy moved so quickly he might as well have teleported, going from a seated position to a standing ready position so fast she was sure she’d blinked at the wrong moment.

She pressed forward, switching to her training in Fury stance and rising on her hind legs, lashing out with both her wings and elbows as fast as she could, escalating the force of her attacks until she was no longer pulling her punches.

And still she couldn’t seem to hit him. He was sliding around every blow, his body twisting and snapping to new positions every time she threw a move. She could hear a faint woosh with each movement, each twist and turn he made as he dodged blow after blow, his body moving so impossibly fast that the air itself was being displaced.

Then a hoof blocked her strike, soaking up the blow and deflecting it off to one side. She began to twist, spreading her wings as she threw her weight to one side to offset the sudden change in momentum … And then her hind legs were swept out from beneath her, feet leaving the ground as Alchemy hooked her feet from behind. She stretched her wings even further, trying to regain a sense of balance, and then her side met the wooden deck, a lance of pain shooting through her right wing as it twisted beneath her body.

Alchemy stepped back as she pushed herself up, again moving with the fluid—and now she was certain, unnatural—grace she’d noticed about him before. He was breathing a little harder than normal, but he hadn’t even broken a sweat.

“All right,” she said, glancing at Hain only to get an impassive look that wouldn’t have been out of place on a stone in return. “So you’re some kind of fighting prodigy, and you hide—” Her words died off as the confident look vanished from Alchemy’s face, and he slumped to one side, his body doubling over as a series of coughs ripped through him. The coughs persisted for almost a quarter of a minute, and as they finally subsided and he looked back up, her eyes widened. Alchemy’s face was hollow, slick with sweat.

“Pushed it too far,” he said, shuffling toward his saddlebags and flipping them open with one shaky hoof. Gone was the confident, fluid movement, replaced instead with a sick leanness that reminded her of someone suffering from the feather flu. She watched in mute shock as he pulled a small vial out of the bags, popped the cork, and tipped it back, downing the entire contents in one quick gulp.

The change was immediate. The labored breathing stopped, as did the tremors, and when he turned back towards her he looked healthy and confident once more, though the sheen of sweat still shone across his coat.

“What was that?” she asked as he stepped over to the ship’s wheel, glancing out the front windows at their heading once more. “Is that what you’re normally like? Sick? And you’re just tough because of the potions?”

“No,” Alchemy said, shaking his head and reaching down by the wheel. There was a heavy clunk as the autopilot disengaged, and then he was turning the wheel slightly, adjusting the ship’s course. “It’s a good guess though.”

“I thought similar the first time I saw it,” Hain said, glancing in their direction from the rear window. “Though he let me think that for a little longer before giving me the actual explanation.”

“Which is?” Blade asked, turning her eyes towards Alchemy once more.

“Closer to what you just said than you might think,” he said, re-engaging the autopilot. “How familiar are you with how the science of potion-making works?”

“Not very,” she said, shaking her head. “I’ve come across it before, but most of the trade with the Plainslands happens on the southern side of the Empire. I’m from the north.”

“Well,” Alchemy said, leaning against the wheel. “It’s like any other science, really. I suppose the closest relation it would have would be chemistry.”

“Pretend I’m not a scientist.”

“Right. Well the first rule still applies,” Alchemy said. “Especially since it’s the first rule they teach to everyone who makes even a passing interest in the art of potion making.”

“Which is?” she prompted.

“Never. Mix. Potions,” Alchemy said, glancing out the forward windows before turning his attention back towards her. The faint moonlight, combined with the still slight sheen of sweat, gave his flat expression a grim cast. “Potion experimentation is dangerous, and mixing completed potions designed to do certain things in large quantities can have unexpected effects.”

“Like what?” she asked, though she had a feeling she already knew the answer.

“The infamous case that all Plainslands students learn about is a visit to see a zebra alchemist’s headstone,” Alchemy said. “In this case, the zebra in question is the headstone.”

“Ouch,” Blade said, nodding.

“Yeah,” Alchemy said. “Mixing and matching potions can result in something fatal, something harmless, an explosion, or an uncontrollable reaction.”

“And what’s happened to you …” she began.

“—is the result of that, yes,” he said, shaking his head. “Only I survived.” He hung his head and turned back towards the windows, staring out over the silver-white, moonlit ice. “To make a long, painful story short, things went wrong. My teacher and her students, which included myself, were attacked by a pride of wrathlions. I did the only thing I could think of, and drank every pony enhancement potion we had on hoof. And …” He tapped at the wheel, the sound echoing across the bridge. “At first, it worked. I was stronger, faster, pumped up on every enhancement I could have conceived. I drove off the wrathlions, saved everypony, and then I collapsed.”

“I spent the next few days in a coma,” he said, turning back towards her. “My body deteriorating as the potion bled out of my system. Only my teacher’s genius with potion crafting saved me. She worked backwards from what I had consumed, combined that knowledge of herbalism and potioncrafting, and managed to bring me back from the brink of death.”

“And now you need that potion or you’ll die,” she finished. To her surprise, he shook his head.

“Worse,” he said. “Mixing those potions? It wasn’t safe. I lived, but they broke something inside of me. My internal magic field, the one everyone has? It’s destroyed. In constant flux. I don’t have access to earth pony magic anymore. If I get regular doses of the potion my teacher created—the one based off the mixture I drank, which I’ve since improved—I stay alive. My magic field stabilizes, my body works in harmony, and all is well. Better than well, actually,” he said, shooting her a grin. “I’m far stronger and quicker than any pony has any right to be. I heal incredibly fast. But the more I do, the more I require of my enhanced self, the faster my body burns through the potion … and the harder the strain on my weakened body.”

“I probably won’t live past fifty,” he said, turning his attention back towards the window. “Every sip of my treatment lowers my life expectancy, but without it my organs fail, my magic breaks apart, and I die. Too much of the potion, and my body begins to burn itself out, killing me in a slower manner but with no less certainty. In other words, I’m dying. Slowly, but surely, with every sip. I can’t live without it, and I can’t live with it.”

“And this potion requires ethereal crystal,” she said, nodding as the piece slid into place. No wonder he was so defensive of the stuff.

“Yes,” he said. “That’s how I ended up here. The Ocean is the best known source of the stuff, and if I wanted to avoid paying the markups, well …” He shrugged. ‘It’s not bad. In the meantime I can still continue my potions work, even if it does take time to get all the ingredients.”

“Can’t you refine your potion?” she asked. “Use it for others, even in a condensed version?”

“It didn’t work,” he said. “We tried. My teacher and I. Best case scenario, it didn’t do anything. Worst case …” He sighed. “We had to purge before it killed whoever imbibed it. We couldn’t replicate the exact mix of the potions I drank. I’ve tried since to refine the mix, figure it out, but …” He shook his head as he trailed off. “Anyway, that’s why I’m strong. As long as I’m killing myself faster than normal, I’m more than an ordinary pony. I can jump impossibly high, move impossibly fast—”

“What happens when you get hit?” Her question seemed to catch him off guard, his head pulling back in surprise.

“I still get injured,” he said after a moment. “I’m tougher than normal as long as I’m on a dose of my potion, but I can still crack bone.” A pause. “It hurts, even though it heals in seconds. Again, as long as I have a supply of my potion.”

“So what you’re saying,” she said, running a talon down the side of her beak as she sat back. “Is that basically, you’re a super soldier?”

“I—What?” Alchemy pulled back, his eyes open wide. “A super soldier?”

“Well, a dying one, obviously,” she said, shrugging. “But you’ve gotta focus on the positives, right?”

“I die if I don’t have a supply of my potion.” His response was deadpan, dry.

“So you’re a high-cost asset,” she said, waving her talons. “So what? I picked almost two-hundred bits off of Ennuis and his crew back at the medical center. If you run out of glitter, we’ll just get some more.”

“It’s also killing me,” Alchemy said, though his words came out without much force behind them.

“Eh,” Blade said, shrugging again. “So live while you’re young. You’re what, in your early twenties?”

“Almost my thirties,” he said, the beginnings of a smile on his face.

“Alright, so that still gives you twenty years or so,” she said, grinning at him. “Yeah, your dying early is tragic. Its a thunderhead on the horizon, I won’t disagree there. But hey, in the meantime, you’re kind of a super soldier. And that, I can use.”

“I like your attitude,” he said, nodding, a thoughtful look on his face. “Though I’ve got to warn you, my goal with potions was to be a doctor. That’s what I’ve studied for.”

Her grin widened. “Yeah, well you know what my old commander used to say about the difference between a doctor and a soldier?”

“No.”

“They both make the same cut for different reasons,” she said, the words coming out with a laugh. “It’s a flexible skill set, in other words. Besides, I saw the way you were moving. You studied some form of zebra combat, didn’t you?”

“Makucha ya Paka,” Alchemy confirmed. “Talon of the cat.”

“I like it,” she said, nodding. She glanced over at Hain, who was still keeping watch out the back window. “And he knew all this?”

“Hain was one of the few people I told,” Alchemy said. “Mostly because I moved into the house that had his bolt hole, and figured we could trade secret for secret.”

“I see,” she said, nodding and then turning back towards the pony. “Which leaves me with one last question. Why keep it a secret? The cult?”

He nodded. “They don’t like any magic that isn’t ‘natural,’ in their own terms. The last thing I wanted to do was get picked up by one of their recruitment groups and end up like some ponies.”

“Some ponies?”

“Experiments,” Alchemy said, his expression darkening. “At least, that’s what everypony calls them. I don’t see any reason they wouldn’t be that, based on what little I know about them. They’ve dropped hints before, but pretending to be sick has usually worked to throw their jackals off my scent.”

“You do realize that if you’re working with me, in the capacity I want you to work as now that I know this, they’ll probably figure it out soon enough,” she said, stepping up alongside the wheel and peering out over the ice. She could see it undulating as she watched, some force far beneath the thick, jagged surface constantly shifting the grinding, jagged edges and sending new spikes of razor-edged ice spitting up out of the old.

“You want me to fight,” Alchemy said. “Combat.”

“It looks like that’s what this job is shaping up to be,” she said, giving him a sideways look. He didn’t seem too bothered by the idea. “I’m slightly familiar with Makucha …” Her words stumbled, and she shook her head as he gave her a knowing grin. “However you pronounce it,” she said, turning her gaze out over the ice once more. “It’s a close in combat style, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Very much in the thick of things.”

“Were you good at it?”

“I was alright.” He shrugged. “The potion makes me better than I am.”

“You’ll get better with practice,” she said, nodding. “I’m going to count on you to put that potion ability of yours to good use while you’re part of this team, understand?”

“What if I run out?”

“Then you can make more, and we’ll scrape up the glitter for it,” she said. “In return, at the end of the mission, I promise I’ll give you your fifty-thousand. Enough to buy years worth of glitter, and live pretty high in the meantime.”

“Will there be a lot of killing?” he asked, looking over at her. Her words caught in her throat as she saw the cautious look on his face.

“I ...” She paused, thinking fast and pausing for a moment. “Not unless you want there to be. Incidental kills happen. That’s the job we’re on. I don’t want you pulling punches or getting Hain or I killed. But a direct killing … I won’t ask you to kill someone in cold blood. Some sapients just can’t stomach it.”

“I can handle death,” he said, his words coming out quick. “I just don’t know about being the direct cause. I am a doctor.”

“Indirect is okay though?” she asked, cocking an eyebrow.

“I don’t know,” he said. “It’d probably help me sleep a little easier at night.”

“Hain or I will handle things if it comes to that,” she said, nodding. “And before you ask, yes, I’ve killed before. No, it’s not easy. It weighs on you.” There was a familiar, faint, oddness in her chest, the same feeling she always got when she thought about it.

“How’d you deal with it?” he asked. “I mean, I’ve lost patients, but …”

“You never asked Hain?” She glanced back at the elderly griffon, but he was still looking through the rear windows, though doubtless he was listening.

“It never came up,” Alchemy said. “I didn’t want to pry too much. I didn’t even know he was a commander.”

“He was a general,” she said, watching as Hain’s wings twitched. “But that’s beside the point.”

“Well, either way I was a doctor,” Alchemy said. “I didn’t expect to ever steal an ice dredger or get hired for my combat skills.”

“Well, judging off of tonight’s showing, you’ve got the skillset for it,” she said, giving him a thumbs up. “But if you’re not ready to watch someone die, this might not be the job for you.”

“And if I say that it isn’t?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” she said, shrugging. “I guess it depends on if Hain can pilot this thing. “We let you off at Ender’s Isle—”

“Where I promptly get picked up by Ennuis’s buddies,” Alchemy said, scoffing. “No thanks.”

“Then I guess you’re stuck with us,” she said, grinning. “Guess you’re going to learn how to fight.”

“Not a career change I saw myself making,” he said. “But I guess it beats the alternative.”

“That’s the spirit,” she said, slapping a talon across his shoulder. “Trust me, by the time this is done, you might even learn to have fun with it.”

“Fun?”

“Last week I blew up a train engine,” she said, grinning and noticing that Hain had shot her another surprised look. “Trust me, when all the screaming is done, there’s a reason I like this job.”

“Blowing things up and money,” Hain said, his dry voice shocking them both. “How noble.”

“You’re one to talk about nobility.” The words slipped out of her beak before she could stop them, and she caught sight of Hain’s shaking head as he turned back towards the back of the boat.

“What—?” Alchemy began, but his jaw snapped shut as soon as she saw the look on her face.

“Nothing wrong with money,” she said, the ruff on the back of her neck flaring with irritation. “A job’s a job, the money’s good.” There was a sudden pang in her chest, an unwelcome echo of the feeling she’d had earlier. The good mood was gone, the atmosphere tense once more.

“Anyway,” she said, looking back to Alchemy. “Do you need anything else? Any lingering worries?”

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m in. You’re right. The money is good, and I’m going to need it now.” She saw him glance toward Hain, and then he mouthed a query. She shook her head.

“Fine.” She turned towards Hain. “Hain? Get some rest. You’ll need to pilot the ship when Alchemy gets tired. I’ll take the watch.” He acknowledged her words with a single nod, and then moved past her, his beak shut tightly and his eyes straight ahead.

Ancestors’ bones, she thought as he moved down the stairs. You stepped in it that time. She’d guessed he’d be testy about his past, but apparently it was still a scar he was wearing. Which could explain the booze bottles outside his home … unless they were a deliberate ploy. I might want to ask about that later, she thought as she stepped up to the rear window. A brilliant moon hung above the horizon like a spotlight, its cold rays glistening off the ice. Or even apologize.

Still, it was something that could wait until later. “He’ll be fine,” she said, answering Alchemy’s question before it could even be asked. “I pushed it, and I’ll deal with it later.” For a minute the cabin was silent save for the endless groan of the ice.

“But what did he do?” Alchemy asked at last. He was looking back at her, a concerned look on his face. “I never asked him before, but—”

“What he had to do,” she replied, turning her gaze back out the rear window. “The right thing.” She could see Alchemy’s reflection in the glass, his mouth opening once more.

“It’s not my place,” she said before he could speak again. “Just … for now, don’t worry about it. Just trust him, all right?” Alchemy turned back to the wheel, eyes forward once more.

I guess this is why you should never meet your heroes, she thought as she watched the ice slide by. The Hain I met today isn’t really much like the old records of him. Well, she conceded, not when he’s not running for his life. That had been more like the griffon she’d hoped to find.

Then again, she couldn’t blame him. I made the same choice he did, she told herself. Only I chose different. And she’d just told Alchemy that Hain had made the right choice.

So, what choice did I make, then? she asked. The wrong one? Below her the ice slid by, the rearward winds propelling the ship along. She stared out across the Ocean for a long time, watching the moonlit surface pass.

The answer never came.

Count of Laws Broken: 9
Total Laws Broken: 57
Damage Value (In Bits): 203
Total Damage Value (In Bits): 37,416

Chapter 6 - A Cold Reception

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Southeast of Ender’s Isle

Blade leaned against the front gunwale, shielding her eyes with one set of claws as she looked out across the sunlit ice. Off in the distance, barely visible above the glare from the surface of the Ocean, a grey blob sat on the horizon, a single discordant point of color on the otherwise white-blue ice.

Ender’s Isle, she thought, lowering her talons and narrowing her eyes against the glare. It took us two days, but we made it. She dropped her eyes towards the deck, relief running through her head as her straining eyes thanked her.

Two days, she thought with a shake of her head as she lifted the hunk of scrap wood she’d found in one of the Manticore’s rooms, eying the long, narrow piece. This place is turning out to be bigger than I thought. Then again, maybe their method of transport was just slow.

Her eye found a trace line in the grain of the wood and she pulled her claw along it, a thin crescent of wood peeling back like the skin of an orange. Hopefully this contact of Hain’s turns out to be worth it, she thought as she pulled her talon across the wood again, deepening the cut. If we spend two days getting here just to find that they don’t have the information we need … She scowled, her grip on the piece of wood tightening.

I’ve just got to trust him, she thought, making another cut and then pausing to eye her work so far. It didn’t look like anything yet, of course, but the lines were strong, with no incorrect variations. Not that it mattered too much this early in the game, but still …

She began to whistle as she dug her talons back into the wood. Nothing complex, just a faint high and low tune to drown out the constant groan of the shifting ice around them, a mindless tune that could ebb and flow with the wind and make her thoughts seem a little less loud.

I just wish he’d at least tell us who this contact of his is, she thought, scraping a small hollow in the wood with the tip of her talon. The material was soft, easy to work with. At least that way I’d have some way of knowing what to expect. Probing Alchemy hadn’t gotten her any answers either. The earth pony had claimed no knowledge of Hain’s contact, though he’d admitted that there were a few possibilities he could think of that might have the knowledge. After which he’d quickly switched the topic to her own “anomalous abilities” and begun pressuring her to submit herself to a series of alchemical tests. Given that there wasn’t exactly room enough on the boat for her to avoid it, she’d said yes.

She grimaced as the series of testing batteries ran through her mind. Alchemy had certainly been … thorough. One of the potions he’d had her imbibe had turned her urine green. Another had made her violently sick, though when she’d thrown up, she’d vomited nothing but blue bubbles. After the sixth or seventh test, with no end in sight, she’d simply refused to drink another potion and stormed out, ignoring his protests.

Probably would have been a bit more accommodating if he’d shown the slightest idea what any of those results meant, she thought as she carved another line in the wood piece. That last one that made me break out in glowing spots … She shook her head, her whistling fading for a moment. He acted like it was the first time he’d ever seen that before. The wind picked up, her feathers rustling as the strong gusts swept over them, and she lowered herself, dropping more of her body behind the gunwale. Besides, what does it matter that I’ve got some sort of unique healing response?

She paused, her talons stopping in mid-cut. Then again, it was pretty weird. She set the bit of wood on the deck, watching it for a moment to make sure it wasn’t going to roll away with each gentle rise and fall of the ship, and then extended her right foreleg. Holding her breath, she extended one claw, and with a slow, gentle motion, drew it down the scales below her elbow. At first they resisted the cut, but then they parted, a faint pain running up her arm as a line of bright, red blood welled up in the wake of her talon. She pulled it away, wiping it on the side of the deck, and then watched. For a moment more the cut hurt, and then the pain faded. She ran her left wrist down the arm, pushing the blood aside. The scratch had already scabbed over.

A chill ran down her spine that had nothing to do with the coldness of the air, and she shook her head as she picked up the block of carved wood once more and began scraping her talons across it. So what if it’s freaky? she thought, her eyes flickering to the thin, red line as if waiting for it to heal up entirely. Quick healing would be pretty handy in a fight. Unless there’s side effects. She glanced at her recently cut foreleg.

Then again, if Alchemy can’t make head or tails of it, then there’s no sense wasting time fighting the slipstream. The wind picked up again and she tugged her wings tighter around herself, rotating her carving project in her talons. It didn’t look like much yet, but she could see the faint outlines of the shape it was becoming.

Kind of like this “team,” she thought, extending a middle claw and adjusting one of the cuts. She could see the shape there, see what Hain had in mind when he’d told her she was the lead, but so far that was all there was. Just the shape.

One of the reasons I started working alone in the first place, she thought, making a long, deep cut along one side of the block and then wincing when her talon got caught in the grain. She gave it a tug and the soft wood came apart, releasing her talon but with it a piece of the wood she’d wanted to leave in place.

Great, she thought, eyeing the new hole. I guess I’ll have to work around that. So much for the original image.

There was a metal creak as the door opened, and she looked up to see Hain step out onto the deck, his eyes narrowing against the bright glare of the sun as they panned across the horizon. His gaze met hers, and she nodded in acknowledgement as he stepped towards her.

“I’m surprised you’re not inside,” he said, his low voice carrying across the deck. “It isn’t exactly warm out here.”

“I needed some solo time,” she said, flicking the bit of broken wood from her talon and returning to her project. “Time to think.”

“Taking to one of the berths isn’t good enough?” Hain asked, coming to a stop a few feet away, his body rocking from side to side with each roll of the ship.

Blade let out a low laugh. “Every time I tried that yesterday, Alchemy just took it as a chance to get me to suck down another one of his potions.”

“You’re not so fond of that, I take it,” Hain said.

She rolled her eyes. “I don’t know, when was the last time you broke out in polka dots? It’s not exactly as amusing as it sounds.”

“I don’t think he called them polka dots.”

She waved her talons. “Whatever. It was annoying. And if it wasn’t that, he was beating me at that little game he has. The one with the colored bits of glass.”

“Bao?” he asked.

“That’s it,” she said, nodding. “I swear he’s just toying with me with each game.” She looked up at him. “How come he hasn’t played you at it yet?”

“Because he hasn’t beaten me in two years,” Hain said, a faint grin coming to his beak. “After that first year, I figured things out.”

“Right.” She rolled her eyes before turning her attention back to her carving. “Don’t play the tactical master at board games. Message clear. How far out from Ender’s Isle are we?”

“About an hour,” he said. “Do you have a plan for when we arrive?”

She shrugged, claws cutting another incision into her carving. “Rent one of those enclosed docks Alchemy was talking about so word doesn’t get out too fast that the Manticore is under new management, and then go looking for this contact of yours.” Another flake of wood fell away, more of the overall shape becoming clear. “You’re sure that they’ll be there?”

“They will,” Hain said. “Last I heard, they tended to operate out of this area. Ender’s Isle is the last really neutral place on the Ocean. If they aren’t out, they’ll be here.”

“And who is ‘they?’” she asked. Another cut, another scrape across the wood. She could see the beginnings of a beak now.

“The final two members of this team, hopefully,” Hain said, lowering himself to the deck, his eyes following each stroke of her talons. “I know you’re not sold on the team idea yet, but trust me, kit. If you want to do what I know you want to do for this job, you’re going to need more than just me and Alchemy in on it.”

“How many more do you think we’ll need?” she asked, not taking her eyes off of the figure growing out of the wood.

“We’re going to need these two minimum,” Hain said, his tone brokering no argument. “Without these two and their information, we won’t have a chance at getting back your package, whatever it is.”

She paused, her talons ceasing their repeated scrapes across her carving. ‘You’re sure of that?”

“I am,” Hain said, nodding. “Kit, the Cult of the Red Horn is quite literally an army. A small one, but an army all the same, with a whole cadre of maniacal, bloodthirsty pirates on a short leash. And they’re fanatics.” He leaned closer, his expression stern. “You can’t bribe fanatics. Or coerce them. Not easily. And not these ones. Which means if you want something from them, which you do—though you haven’t told us what—you’re going to need the right forces arrayed on your side.”

“You make it sound like we’re going to war,” she said, resuming her carving.

“You are.” Hain sat back. “In fact, I think by taking this ship, you’ve already bloodied their nose. So we need these two.”

“Giving us a team of five,” Blade said. “That’s an army?”

“It is,” Hain said. “If we can get these last two.”

“So either they’re really well connected, really good fighters, or both,” she said. “I’m not sure what you’re trying to convince me of here, Hain.” The carving was starting to come together now, a stylized image of a griffon locked in a dive, its limbs held tightly against its body.

“That you should be willing to take a reduced paycheck in order to hire these two, because we’re going to need them and their information.”

“Done.”

“Interesting …” The tone to his words sent a faint chill of suspicion through her, and she looked up.

“What’s interesting?” she asked.

“You’re being paid a massive sum of a money to fetch whatever it is, but you yourself don’t seem that concerned with the money at the moment.” Her talons paused as he continued. “Is whoever’s paying you paying you more than you let on? Or is there something else at stake here that you haven’t told us?”

“Two-hundred thousand is the final amount,” she said, eyeing the small carving. It was almost done now. Just a few more cuts. “Anything outside of that isn’t anything that you need to worry about.”

For a minute the deck was silent, save for the faint scrape of her claws across the now nearly complete figurine. It wasn’t her best work—she’d done her best to make the missing chunk she’d carved out as unobtrusive as possible, but it was still noticeable—but for something she’d carved over the last few half-an-hour or so, it wasn’t bad.

There, she thought, putting the finishing touches on the feathers around the figure's neck with a series of short, quick scrapes. It’s not perfect, but it’ll do. It was a male griffon locked in a dive, his eyes fixed on some distant target. The work was quick, dirty, but the figure’s shape was strong, the lines clean.

“You know,” she said, tossing the carving towards Hain. He caught it with one outstretched claw. “This carving is a bit like us.”

“Us?”

“The team,” she said, rising from the deck. “Overall, it’s not hard to see what we are. But there’s a lot of bad lines if you know where to look. There’s missing pieces, like that spot on the side, that no one’s filling in.”

“Your point?” Hain asked, looking up at her.

“My point, Hain ...” she said, glancing towards the horizon. Ender’s Isle was no longer a grey blob. They were close enough now that she could make out the low shapes of buildings, the faint green of pine trees. “My point is that I’d never expected this to be a team in the first place, just like that wood never wanted to be a figurine. And now you’re trying to ‘guide us’ into being one. But there’s holes in it. You just made a bunch of roundabout questions in order to ask me what my ulterior motive was, rather than coming right out and asking it, and yet you won’t even let me tell Alchemy why you got exiled from the Empire in the first place.”

Hain’s expression soured. “That’s none of your business,” he growled, clenching his talons into a fist and rising from the deck.

“Then neither is why I took this job, temizleyin?” she said, stepping toward him and flaring her wings. “The last two days you’ve been surly just because you don’t like bringing up your past. But if you’re going to act like my past matters and I need to be more of a team player, then you’d better be willing to fly with the rest of this talon along with me. Hepsi için tek kanat çırpma, right? That’s what my clan guard used to say. All for one, flying. So unless you want to do the ‘team’ the same favor of getting on the same page with the rest of us, don’t pretend that because you want the rest of us to fly to a pattern you won’t bank to means we’ll do it.”

She turned and stepped away, spreading her wings as she prepared to lift off. “You can keep that figurine, by the way,” she said, glancing back at him. “What’s left of it, anyway.” Her words seemed to stir Hain, and he glanced down, a look of surprise replacing the anger on his face as he saw the broken pieces of the figure she’d just carved clutched in his claws.

“I know I’m not good with teams, Hain,” she said, shaking her head. “I’m a forward thinker, aggressive, and not exactly skilled at the whole ‘working with others’ part, either. But I’m on the level with what I’m getting paid, and I have my reasons for why I haven’t told you exactly what it is we’re getting paid for.” She gave him one last look and shook her head. “If you want out, fine. We’ll leave you here at Ender’s Isle. If you want in, then you’re going to have to trust me that I have my reasons for what I’ve said, all right?” She turned back towards the bridge and pulled her wings down, lifting her body into the air and up. “Either way, I expect you to help us dock the boat before you go.”

A moment later she was inside, Alchemy giving her a questioning look from behind the wheel as she looked down towards the deck where Hain was standing, staring at the broken carving she’d made. Then, his expression locked in stone, he turned and walked into the cabin below them.

“Are we in trouble?” Alchemy asked, glancing over at her with a worried look on his face.

“I don’t know,” she admitted, eyeing the approaching the city through the glass. “Maybe not? Hain and I just need to get a few things clear.”

“He’s not the only one,” Alchemy said.

Blade looked down at him in surprise. And here I thought we were getting along pretty well, she thought. “Alchemy,” she said opening her beak. “Don’t tell me you’re getting annoyed with me too? Or Hain?”

“What?” He shook his head. “No, no. I was talking about your condition.”

Of course. She rolled her eyes as Alchemy continued to speak, something about “internal magic fields” and other phrases she didn’t have the first guess about.

“Alchemy,” she said, shaking her head as he cut off. “Would it help if I told you I didn’t understand any of what you just said?”

“Oh, well, basically,” he said, stumbling over his words a bit. “I need to run a few more tests. Maybe with a unicorn nearby.”

“Right,” she said, shaking her head. What have I gotten into? “Can it wait until later?”

“Yeah.”

“Then steer the boat. We’ll be at Ender’s Isle soon enough.”

“And?”

She sighed. “As long as you can promise me that you aren’t going to turn my urine green or something, sure, we can do some more tests …”

“Excellent.”

“After we pick up the rest of our team and figure out what our next move is, all right?”

“Good enough for me,” Alchemy said. There was a pause. “Although,” he said. “How keen are you on the urine thing? Because—”

“Alchemy …”

“No, no, seriously,” he said, though the grin on his face made it hard for her to believe he was. “I mean, after all, there are a lot of pretty good tests that tell a lot about you through your urine.”

“You’re seriously going to talk about this?”

“If you’re pregnant, for instance,” Alchemy said. “Or molting early.”

“I’m neither,” she said, shutting her eyes and wishing she’d just gone to her bunk.

“There’s a lot of other potions too,” he said, faint laughter working its way through his words. “I mean, if we stopped and picked up some new ingredients while we’re in Ender’s, I could make you pee fire.”

“Not going to happen.”

“Or ice!” Alchemy said, not even trying to hold back his laughter now. “I swear that’s a real thing. I don’t know why, but I’ve always wanted to find someone to try it on!”

“I’m really not asking for this,” she said, shaking her head.

“I mean, there’s a whole subsection of one of my books that was talking about this. No idea who did it in the first place, but I guess someone was curious …” Alchemy’s voice trailed on as she rolled her eyes once more, bringing them to rest on the distant town.

Seriously, she asked herself as she looked at the distant village. What did I get myself into?

* * *

“How long?” the pony standing on the dock asked, his loud voice ringing out over the jumble of activity that was the indoor harbor. Blade glanced back at the shape of the Minotaur behind her, its sails withdrawn as the dockhooves guided it into place, calling out orders and advice to one another as they began securing the vessel.

She had to admit it was a pretty interesting setup. Unlike water, the ice of the Ocean was hard to build across without finding your supports being eaten away beneath you by the constant grinding, so the builders of the indoor berths made use of an ethereal plating similar to that built into the underside of each of the ships. Heavy concrete buffers kept the ice at bay, and the ships could glide past the barriers and into the berth itself. Which, as far as she could see, made just as much sense for getting out from under adverse weather and performing maintenance on a ship as it did for the added bonus that unloading of cargo could be done in a more private setting. Not that there were any laws that she was aware of concerning what one’s cargo was on the Ocean, but even with their lack, there were bound to be shipments of value or quantity that their owners were going to want kept quiet.

Still, though the added bonus of privacy was nice, it was definitely going to come at a cost. She turned back towards the berth’s owner, eying the gruff-looking earth pony’s ragged, fire-red beard and mane. “Sorry?” she asked, keeping her head turned just far enough to the side that she could keep an eye on the dockhooves as they began the process of mooring the Manticore down.

“How long?” the pony repeated again. “As in, how many days is your ship going to be here? And are you needing a servicing?”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “No servicing. And we’re only going to be here a short while.”

“Minimum rental period for the berth is twelve hours,” came the reply. “One-hundred and fifty bits.”

“One-hundred—” Blade snapped her beak shut with a click, glaring at the earth pony. He didn’t flinch. Of course he’s not budging, she thought as she stared down at him. He’s the one with the berth, and he’s bound to know how much the other berths cost.

“Fine,” she said, sitting back on her haunches and trying to look nonplussed. “But we want our arrival kept quiet, understand?”

“That’s another fifty bits,” the earth pony said, the corner of his mouth turning upwards in small smirk.

Fifty bits? She bit down on the urge to jump forward and strangle the smug-looking pony for his arrogance. “Fine,” she growled, the word slipping through her clenched teeth. “Two hundred bits in total. For the berth, absolute silence on the matter, and a refueling of our oil tank.” The last one seemed to catch him by surprise, but then he shrugged.

“Standard oil rates apply,” he said. “We have to—”

“On the house,” she said, leaning forward and scraping her talons across the deck for emphasis. “I doubt we’ll stay the night anyway, so you’re going to get a pretty nice payment for a berth we’re barely going to use.”

“I—um—” She didn’t miss the way the shore boss glanced down at her talons, his eyes widening slightly. “Yeah, right. You’ll only be needing it for a little while, then?

“Don’t lock the doors,” she said, pulling her talons back once more. “In fact, I’d bet we’ll be out of here before your shift is over.”

“I own the place,” he said. “I don’t have shifts.”

“Good,” she said, smirking. “Then you’ll still be here to open the doors when we leave.” To be fair, she wasn’t certain that they were going to be leaving that quickly, but it never hurt to be prepared. Especially when the port you’d just stopped in was surrounded by as many dangerous looking ships as Ender’s Isle was.

“Stay here,” she said, turning and spreading her wings. “I’ll be back with your money in a minute.” She jumped across the gap in the dock, ignoring the gangplank that the dockhooves were maneuvering into position further up.

“What’s the fee?” Hain asked as she stepped into the cabin. The older griffon was standing by the doorway wearing his combat harness, the knife she’d seen strapped across the front of his shoulder.

“Two-hundred bits,” she said, stepping past him and heading for her bags. She’d never bothered to stow them with any of the ramshackle gear that had come with their stolen ship. They were still sitting out in the open, easily accessible.

“Sounds about right,” Hain said, nodding as he adjusted his harness.

“Really?” she replied as she picked up her bags. “Because I’m pretty sure he’s making a pretty good profit.”

“He has to,” Hain said with a grunt. “The plates they use on the bottom of these things aren’t cheap.”

“Right,” she said, nodding as she spilled her bit bag across the table and began counting out the shore boss’s payment. “Well, I’ll be leaving Alchemy behind to make sure they don’t mess with anything. I don’t quite trust these guys, and Alchemy would know what they’d need to touch.”

“A berth with a bad rep probably doesn’t last long,” Hain said.

“Only if word gets out,” she countered. “I’d be leaving Alchemy here anyway. I want the Manticore ready to leave the minute we’ve got what we need.”

“Fine,” Hain said. “That’s probably a wise idea. If one of those ships out there gets a good look at us and notices we’re not Ennuis ...”

“Yeah,” she said, nodding. There had been three ships anchored outside the public docks flying the Bloodhooves’ flag—a singular image of a burning, bloody hoof. The payment slid into her outstretched talons, the metal coins and bars clinking against one another, and she turned, dropping the payment back into her bags before throwing them across her back.

She glanced up at Hain as she adjusted them, eyeing the older griffon. He wasn’t looking at her, but rather staring off into nothing, his eyes focused on something distant. He was probably still smarting from her comments earlier. Better to stand up now, she thought, opening her beak. “Hain?”

“Mm?” He looked over in her direction, one eyebrow raised.

“I apologize for my outburst earlier,” she said, forcing the words out of her throat. “You’re right, there are some things about this job I haven’t explained yet, and some things I haven’t said. And my reasons for holding them back aren’t exactly the best.” She shrugged. “And I do need to take the advice of my tactician, so as soon as we get back from meeting with your contact, I’ll tell you what I can. But,” she said, raising a talon as he opened his beak. “While I understand that I’m not used to working with a team, I will not retract what I said earlier. If you’re going to make me be the leader and act like it, then I need you to act more like your old self rather than hiding it.”

“You realize that old self betrayed everything he stood for?” Hain said, the words barely a question.

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “You betrayed everything your employer stood for. There’s a difference. You stood up for what you’d decided was right.”

For a moment Hain was silent. Then he nodded, sitting back on his haunches. “I get the feeling you didn’t always think about it this way.”

She shook her head. “Not until I had to make a similar choice. Don’t get me wrong,” she said. “I always respected your place in the history books, but I always wondered about that choice you made. Honor—your contract—versus the griffons you were commanding. The friends you’d made.” She laughed. “And then I had to make a choice like yours. Smaller scale, same thing.” The odd hollow was back in her chest now, the strange, empty feeling that had come every so often when she’d thought back on it. She shoved it back down.

“And?” Hain prompted.

“I don’t know,” she said, shrugging as the feeling faded slightly. Gone, until she thought about it again. “I don’t like thinking about it. I don’t think I entirely chose wrong, regardless of the choice I did make, but …”

“But what?”

“When you accused me of not caring about the money,” she said. “You were kind of right. The money’s only part of it. For me, the job is … I guess you could call it a favor. A way to make up for that tough choice I made.”

“Even though it was the right choice?”

“Who’s to say if it was right or wrong?” she said, shrugging. “You know our culture. You know honor to the job comes first. That’s right, because it’s how we went from killing each other most of the time to holding some semblance of sanity.”

“Then I’m afraid I don’t get your point,” Hain grumbled, frowning. “So are you saying I didn’t make the right choice?”

“Honestly?” She let out a laugh. “I have no idea what I’m saying. I’m not much for apologies, either. It’s kind of why I left the Empire in the first place. I guess … I guess I’m saying that I can kind of see both sides now. To your choice. Because I had to make a similar one? And I kind of get how it feels to be in that spot?” She gave him a hopeful grin.

“Well …” he said, tilting his head to one side. “I guess as apologies go, that’ll have to do. I kind of owe you one as well, kit. You were right. About me having a bit of a chip on my shoulder, I mean. Heck,” he said, letting out a dry laugh. “I wouldn’t even tell Alchemy what my deal was, and he’s one of the few friends I’ve got up here. So I apologize as well. For being an old buzzard.” He held out one talon. “To trying again?”

“I’ll take you up on that,” she said, giving his claws a firm shake.

“I’m still going to fly like a talon commander about you being a leader, though,” Hain said as he pulled his talons back. “And you saying you left the Empire doesn’t really surprise me.”

“Yeah, well, it was entirely legal, everything I did,” she said, her ruff rising momentarily. “Let’s just say that your employers start balking when the bill gets too large.” She turned towards the stairs, motioning for him to follow.

“Actually, I was referring to you saying you think you understand my choice,” Hain said. “Most griffons wouldn’t dare admit that. You must be a bit of a radical.”

“Maybe you’ve been away too long,” she said. “Not that you have much of a choice, but let’s just say that the aftermath of that decision didn’t pass without a mark.”

“Well, it isn’t getting reversed,” Hain said, his tone implying that he was done discussing it. “Now, what were you saying about a large bill?”

“Oh, that?” she asked, glancing back down at him as she climbed up to the bridge. “Pretty standard. Contracts give you license to pretty much do what it takes to solve the job, repercussions fall on your employer, right?” She rose onto the bridge, Alchemy turning and looking at her as she kept talking. “Well, although everyone tends to tell you they want the job done as quickly and efficiently as possible, some griffons have problems getting their money to match their claws.”

“Wait,” Hain said, a look of puzzlement on his face. “Are you saying you left the Empire because you were accruing too many fines?” The look faded, an expression of surprise and then amused amazement taking its place.

“Not too many,” she said, feeling a flush run beneath her feathers. “Just enough that potential employers started getting nervous about a few light breezes and wouldn’t fly.”

“How much was the biggest fine?” Hain asked his grin growing wider. “Are we talking a couple of hundred reeds or—?”

“A little over eight-thousand,” she said, folding her forelegs as Hain’s question exploded into a loud burst of laughter. “Yeah, yeah, laugh all you want,” she said, shooting Alchemy a look as he too began to snicker. “Everyone’s a critic. I’ll have you know I got that job done a week earlier than they expected it to be done, and with a lot less red tape, too.”

Her comment only made Hain laugh harder, and she slumped back against the wall, doing her best to give both he and Alchemy both a level gaze as her cheeks burned. “Are you done yet?” she asked as the grey griffon began to wind down.

“Yeah, for now,” Hain said, his words still interrupted by random chuckles. “Could I ask what you did?”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “And we’ve got a job to do, so let’s try and stop laughing long enough to get to it.”

“Right.” Hain let out a cough, clearing his throat, and straightened, taking up his usual, military-straight stance. With the exception, she noticed, of a barely held-back grin beating at the edges of his beak.

I don’t know why everyone finds that so outrageous, she thought as she turned towards the stairs. It’s not like we haven’t already technically done more by stealing this boat.

“Hey,” she called as she climbed up to the bridge, her voice pulling Alchemy’s attention towards her. “Alchemy, I want you to stay here and keep an eye on the boat. The dockhooves are going to top off the oil so we’ll be set to leave. You said we’ve got plenty of food and water right?”

“We could use more water,” Alchemy said, shrugging. “But yeah, that’s about it.”

“Make sure they get that done, then,” she said. “Hain and I are going to go meet with his contact. When we get back, we’re out of here, and we’ll hopefully be able to sit down and get a handle on exactly what we’re doing next, and what we’re after, all right.” She waited for his answering nod and then moved back down the stairs. “Hain? Let’s move.”

She paid the shore boss on the way out, passing over a hundred bit bar and two fifty bit coins which vanished into his vest as quickly as she’d handed them to him. Even as they left, walking out the ordinary door at the back of the berth, she could hear the boss calling for his workers and getting them to work fueling up the Manticore’s heater.

“So?” she asked, shivering as she stepped out of the heated dock and onto the streets of Ender’s Isle. “What’s the plan? Where do we find your contact?” She eyed a pair of pegasus ponies who walking down the other side of the street, chatting with one another, and then moved her eyes up the street, eyeing the various residents—mostly ponies—as they wandered past. At least this place is more lively than the Wharf.

“This way,” Hain said, starting down the street. “If they’re in town, they’re going to be in one of two places.”

“Right,” she said, moving after him and eyeing the citizenry. “And all those Bloodhoof ships out front?”

“Pushing things,” Hain said, his voice low enough she had to step a little closer to him to hear. “And you’d probably be best off not bringing it up, at least not loudly. As I understand it, Ender’s Isle is a small bit of a neutral spot between the Cragtooths and the Bloodhooves. The Bloodhooves can’t make a claim for it because it’s too close to the Cragtooths’ main base, and the Cragtooths can’t outright cut off the Bloodhooves access to the town without pushing things too far and inviting retaliation.” He paused. “There might be some local politics thrown into the mix too, the town itself not wanting to be part of the fight. Ender’s Isle grows a lot of the oilwart that fuels everyone’s heaters and boilers, so they’ve got some pull.”

“Sounds like a complicated mess,” she ventured.

Hain nodded. “Most wars usually are,” he said, his gravelly voice low.

“Is that what this is?” She eyed a few of the ponies trotting up and down the street, running her eyes over the contours of their heavy vests, instinctively checking for the disparate stiffness in the cloth that could imply a hidden blade or weapon. “Seems a bit small for an actual war.”

“Size doesn’t mean much to the ponies caught in the middle,” Hain said. Around them the buildings were getting taller, the air warmer. Wisps of steam spilled between their feet, small rivers of rapidly cooling air that rippled above the surface of the street, twisting and fading with each passing footstep. Up ahead she could see the source of the warmth—a massive array of greenhouses, the glass misted over with condensation.

“Food source,” Hain said, gesturing with one wing. “They can’t import everything, and the silt on the beach is great for growing food, as I understand it.”

“What about the water?” she asked, shaking her head even as the question slipped free. “Nevermind,” she said, the distant groan of the ice suddenly seeming much louder to her ears. “That one’s obvious.” She turned her gaze upward, eyeing the several vertical windmills sitting in the center of the block of greenhouses, their long, spindly vanes twisting in the air. There had been a couple of them back near the berths as well, though those had been slightly shorter and stubbier.

“Windmills,” Hain said, apparently following her eyes. “They use them to generate air pressure or—”

“I know what they are,” she said, ending his explanation. “I’ve seen them used in other places.” Her talons scraped across the ground, small bits of mud and dirt clinging to the undersides courtesy of the damper than normal ground. “So what you’re saying ...” she said, trying to pull the conversation back to its original point. “Is that this is a clan skirmish.”

Hain nodded. “That’s probably a better explanation than a war, given the size, but make no mistake.” He turned his head, nodding in the direction of one of the buildings they passed. “To the ponies that live here, it’s pretty much a war when it heats up.”

“Which as long as they’ve got the food and fuel supply, might be a while,” she said, nodding. “Gotcha.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Hain said, shaking his head.

“Then what did you mean?”

“That these ponies, minotaurs, and who-knows what else are just workers, Blade,” Hain said, his eyes growing distant. “Most of them don’t want a thing to do with what’s going on.”

She nodded, but it was pretty clear the conversation was over. I guess he doesn’t approve of it, she thought as they passed through the center of the town, their path still taking them toward the north side of the island. Then again, he’s not doing much about it. She’d seen firsthand the reign the Bloodhooves had held over Ruffian’s Wharf. Or maybe I shouldn’t be one to judge, considering I’m not doing anything about it either. She shook the thought from her mind.

Focus, Blade, she told herself as they moved away from the greenhouses and towards the outer edge of the town once more, her feathers ruffling as the air grew dry and cool once more. It’s the underlying message here. In other words, this town is a powderkeg, and he doesn’t want you setting it off. She smirked. Not exactly the best griffon for the job.

If Hain noticed her expression he didn’t comment on it, instead staying silent as he led the way. The air around them grew cooler, the wind growing in volume alongside the groan of the ice ocean as they neared the northern edge of the island. The buildings around them changed again, switching from the more compressed homes and places of business that had been built toward the center of the island to the larger and more drawn out shapes of warehouses and private ship berths.

Should’ve docked on this side of the island, Blade thought as Hain took a left, turning down another large, main street. This section of the island was much livelier than the southern half, she could see dozens of earth ponies and pegasi alone just on the street she and Hain were walking down, some of them carrying crates or packages, others just walking and talking in loud voices. A wagon was coming down the street, pulled by two earth ponies and piled high with wooden crates.

“There it is,” Hain said, his voice pulling her away from her examination. He gestured with a wing, guiding her attention towards a large, three-story building sitting at the corner of an upcoming intersection. “The Rusty Bucket.”

“That,” Blade said as they neared the structure, “might be the most generic name for a bar I’ve ever heard.”

“Yeah, I know,” Hain said. “But I think that’s part of the appeal.”

She tilted her head back as they approached the front of the bar, eyeing the faded, peeled paint on its sign. The name was still clear, though she wasn’t sure if the mostly faded image above it was supposed to have been a pot, a pan, or maybe the namesake bucket. Even if it had been, judging by the colors it hadn’t been a rusty one.

She stepped up onto the wooden sidewalk and felt a faint, familiar thrum reverberating through the wood, a familiar pattern that she couldn’t quite place. The feeling was mixing with the faint sounds from inside the bar, but after a moment she recognized the song for what it was.

“What?” Hain asked, pausing with his talons wrapped around the door handle. He must have seen her faint smile.

“Nothing,” she said, shaking her head. “I just recognized the song. It’s a personal favorite of an old friend of mine.”

“Right,” Hain said, tugging the door open.

The sound hit her only a second before the warmth did, rolling over her like an onrushing tide, and then she was following Hain into the bar, the door slamming shut behind her with a muted bang and closing off the outside. A large earth pony standing next to the door looked up at them from his seat, his eyes going first to Hain’s knife and then to her long talons, before going back down to the book he was reading, the side of his head giving a quick jerk towards a sign that said “Fight in the streets, not in the bar.”

I wonder if that works? Blade thought as she stepped past the bouncer and took her first look at the bar proper. Or is it just a hopeful request?

The bar spread out in front of her wasn’t any different from most of the dives she’d had the occasion of dropping into during her travels. Tables were scattered across the tiered floor, patrons laughing and chatting as they picked at food or took long sips from heavy, deep mugs. The place was well-lit rather than dim, and she nodded as she noticed the magilights hanging from the overhead beams. Apparently the place made enough money it could afford to ditch the lamps.

The actual bar itself was set against the back wall, long and low, but busy enough that it was being kept staffed by several earth ponies and a minotaur, all of whom seemed to be actively engaged serving the various sapients resting on the stools. A large sound system was sitting at one end, an entire spindle of records accessible to both the patrons and the bartenders, and she followed the wires from the player up towards the large selection of speakers that someone had nailed to the overhead beams. The speaker cones were vibrating and flexing with each note and beat of the twangy rock song, the music just loud enough that she couldn’t quite hear any of the conversation from the tables, just a faint mix of occasional loud words and yells. She could see several alcoves built into the sidewalls of the bar, open booths that nonetheless offered more privacy than the open floor. Several of them were occupied, though there were a few that were more empty than others, and one all the way near the back of the bar seemed completely empty, the light itself off.

“There,” Hain said, his voice barely audible above the din as he nodded his head towards the same corner she’d just been looking at. “He’s here.”

“Who?” Blade asked, but the older griffon was already on the moved, passing between the foremost tables and stepping around a dark-green minotaur who was hefting a massive tray of both drinks and food.

She shook her head and stepped into the bar after him, nodding at the minotaur waiter as she passed and then scanning the path Hain was following, trying to guess at his destination.

It wasn’t hard. The grey griffon was moving in as straight a line as possible, heading for a table right near the back of the room that was occupied by a group of earth ponies, pegasi, and one massive, dark-blue minotaur who was hunched low over something he was holding in his hands.

“All right,” the minotaur’s voice boomed, echoing through the bar above the loud music. “Wings? You in or out?”

Hain came to a stop a few feet back from the table, and Blade stopped alongside him as one of the pegasi shook her head.

“I’m thinking,” she said, her eyes fixed on the cards she was clutching closely in her hooves. “Don’t rush me.”

“Yeah,” one of the other ponies said, his chuckle barely audible. “Giver her time to consider how much more money she wants to throw away.”

The mare’s eyes flashed, and she leaned forward, pushing a small pile of bits toward into the center pot. “Fine then,” she said, spreading her wings wide as she sat back and laying her cards facedown in front of her. “Call.”

A low murmur rose up around the table, some ponies shaking their heads as the minotaur let out a laugh and slid a matching number of bits forward. “Call,” he said, grinning at the pegasus. “You’re just throwing it away, Wings.”

“So are you,” the earth pony on the other side of the table said, pushing his own pile of bits forward and adding it to the pile in the center. Blade made a quick mental guess and came up with a value of at least sixty bits, though she could see a few reeds and rings in the pile as well. “Call.”

“All right,” a fourth pony said, sliding a top card from the deck and adding it to the four already in place below the pot. “Here’s the tip of the berg and … horseapples.” He looked down at the card he’d just flipped and then back to his own hand. “And … I’m out,” he said, sitting back and glaring at the blue lady of diamonds staring up at him. “I fold.” Laughter circled the table, the two players nearest to the pony slapping him on the back and offering him consolation as they pointed to their own folded hands.

“All right,” the minotaur said as all eyes flipped back to the pegasus. “This is it, Wings. You done?”

For a moment the pegasus’s eyes darted between her face-down hand and what was left of her pile of bits, and then she shook her head. “Nope,” she said, folding her wings as she leaned forward. “I’ll call.” Another pile of bits slid into the center.

“Raise,” the minotaur said, not breaking eye contact with her as he leaned forward and tossed several more bits into the pot. “Ten bits.” He held the eye contact for a moment and then switched his attention to the lone remaining player, the pony with the smug grin. “You?”

“Call,” the earth pony replied, leaning forward and pushing a matching number of bits into the pot. “And sorry, Barnabas, but I think you’re bluffing.” He reached down and worked the tip of his hoof under his hand, flipping the two cards over to reveal the blue lady of spades and the red lady of hearts. A murmur of surprise echoed around the table. “Three of kind!” he called, sitting back with a smug look. “The ladies take it. Barnabas?”

The minotaur sat back with a look of disgust and flipped his hand over. “Two princesses,” he said, shaking his head as a chorus of disappointed moans filled the air from the half-a-dozen or so players that had folded. “I thought I had that.”

“You know,” the earth pony said, leaning forward and wrapping his hoof around the pot with a grin. “For the race that invented the game, you’re not doing so hot at representing it today.”

Barnabas scowled, but there was no weight to the look. “Oh, stuff it grounder,” he said, shaking his head. “Just collect your pot and let’s deal this next hand so you can get back to losing it.” The earth pony grinned and began pulling back his pile of bits.

“Oh, boys …” came a singsong voice from the other side of the table. Wings was leaning forward with her hooves crossed under her chin, a bright but smug grin on her face. “I hate to say it, but …” Her wing snuck around the edge of the table, and in a show of dexterity, flipped her hand. A five of diamonds and a princess of diamonds. “That’s a flush,” she said, pointing with one hoof at the two of diamonds, the seven of diamonds, and the lady of diamonds sitting below the slightly shifted pot.

For a moment the table was quiet, and then Barnabas began laughing, a deep, booming roll of thunder that swept across the table. “Hah!” the minotaur said, pointing a finger at the stunned and no-longer-victorious earth pony. “It looks like you weren’t the only one betting on that last card!” He swept the pot across the table towards the pegasus, slamming his free hand down on the tabletop with a loud slap as he did so. “Well done, Wings. Now let’s deal again.” His head popped up, his eyes darting across both Blade and Hain before dropping back down to the table. “Newcomers!” he said with a laugh. “Should we deal you in, or—wait.” The head popped back up, forehead wrinkling as Barnabas stared at them in surprise.

“Hain?” he asked after a moment. “That is you!” he said, his look of shock melting into a jovial smile. “Nervo’s pits, Hain! What in the blazes are you doing away from Ruffian’s Wharf, you old buzzard?”

That’s Hain’s contact? Blade thought as the minotaur laughed again and waved his hand towards Hain. Pretty loud. And large, she realized as she took a better look at him, noticing the chair he’d been sitting in was lower than normal. His dark-blue pelt was scarred, lighter patches crisscrossing the tight bunches of muscle, but she could still see the clean size of the minotaur’s build. He looked like a warrior. Even his horns, though chipped and bearing numerous scrapes, showed signs of frequent use.

“And who’s this?” Barnabas asked, looking at her. For a moment his eyes narrowed, the jovial look fading from his face. “She doesn’t look like she’s from the eyrie. Friend of yours, Hain?” he asked, turning his gaze back toward the older griffon, but not before she saw the slight twinge of his body as he shifted his weight. “Is that what got you off of your rock?” He slid his cards across the table towards the dealer with a quick flick of his wrist, but his eyes didn’t follow them. They were fixed on Hain.

“You’re right,” Hain said, nodding as he stepped towards the table. “She’s not from Teardrop. She’s from outside the Ocean.”

“Like you?” Barnabas asked, only for Hain to shake his head in reply. “I see …” he said, glancing in her direction once more. “And yet she got you to leave the Wharf.” He frowned, resting his weight on one elbow. “What’s she after?”

“We need information,” Hain said. “On a certain group.” Barnabas nodded, the reference to the cult clearly not missed, and then glanced at the rest of the table’s occupants, his smile a little less evident.

“Sorry, guys,” he said, his massive shoulders heaving in a shrug. “Looks like the game is over for now, and it’s my table.” He rapped his knuckles on the tabletop and then held an open hand towards the dealer. “Also, those are my cards.”

A chorus of groans echoed around the table as the various players sank back or collected their bits. Several of the ponies looked down at their meager leavings and shook their heads.

“Come on now,” Barnabas said, slapping the table for emphasis. “Half of you probably have jobs you’re supposed to be at right now anyway.” The grumbling persisted, but one by one the ponies trotted away.

“Well,” the minotaur said, turning towards them and motioning for them to take a seat. “Whatever it is that’s got you moving, Hain, it must be pretty big. I don’t think you’ve left Ruffian’s Wharf in the fifteen years I’ve known you. And,” he said as Blade pulled out a chair and sat down, “if you don’t mind me asking, miss, who are you?”

She glanced in Hain’s direction and then looked back towards the minotaur as the older griffon didn’t say anything. “My name’s Blade Sunchaser,” she said, setting one long pair of talons on the tabletop. “Wandering claw. I needed some information for a job I’m working on. Hain said you would have it.” Actually, she thought, he said two of you would have it. She took a quick look around, but none of the ponies had stayed behind, and there wasn’t another minotaur nearby that looked interested in the conversation, save perhaps the waiter.

The curious look on Barnabas’s face grew more apparent as she turned back, the minotaur leaning back and rubbing one massive hand across his chest. “Well now,” he said, staring at Hain and then at her. “And whatever you offered Hain was enough to get him to leave his house?” He let out a low whistle and then shook his head, grinning at the elderly griffon. “You must have some pull, little chick.”

She let the slight insult slide. “It might have helped that the Bloodhooves burned down his house just for talking to me,” she admitted.

Barnabas’s face hardened. “They did, huh?” he said, his jaw shifting to one side. “Sounds like you’ve made some enemies fast.”

“You don’t know the half of it, Barnabas,” Hain said, shaking his head. “Let’s just say we’d prefer to get our information as quickly as possible.”

“Right,” Barnabas said. “I—” Hain’s upraised claw stopped him.

“There’s more to it than that,” Hain said. “We need more than information, we need knowledge.”

“Ah,” Barnabas said, nodding in understanding. “This young miss here has recruited you, and now she needs my and my sister’s expertise. What’s the job?”

Again Hain glanced in her direction, and she spoke up. “I need to recover something from … a certain group—”

“You can speak openly about the cult in this bar,” Barnabas interrupted. “Trust me.”

“Well,” she said, glancing towards Hain. “Hain seems to trust you, so I suppose I should. I need to retrieve something from the cult.”

“What?”

“You’ll find that out if you need to know,” she said, shaking her head.

“I can’t help you find it if I don’t know what it is,” Barnabas said, grinning. “Besides, I’m with Hain on this whole ‘you can trust me’ thing.”

“Hain doesn’t know what it is either,” she said, shaking her head. “For now, we’ll call it … the package. A cult member I was tracking had it. Blue unicorn, with an eye for a cutie mark.”

For a moment Barnabas was silent. Then he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “What’s my fee?”

“If you tell us where I can find him? Or if you help?”

Barnabas sat back with a laugh. “Anyone can tell you where to find him, miss. The whole cult’s holed up in that base of theirs out in the Bloody Tip. If he’s not on one of the boats, or managing one of the few towns they have a tighter grip over. But then again,” he said. “You don’t want help just with that. You want a hand tracking down this package of yours.” He paused for a moment. “Is it a unicorn?”

“It’s inanimate.”

“Hmmm …” Barnabas rubbed both his hands together. “Well, Ms. Sunchaser—”

“Call me Blade.”

“Very well,” he said. “Miss Blade, I and my sister can give you the information you need—”

“How?”

Barnabas paused, a confused look on his face, and she voiced her question once more.

“Again, how? Pardon my curiosity, but Hain here didn’t tell me anything about you. He simply said you probably had the information we’d need, and that we’d want to hire you.”

Barnabas smiled. “Well, then I’ll thank him for the glowing review and the chance to proclaim my own deeds.” He reached below the table and pulled out a massive, double-headed ax, dropping it atop the wood with ease. “My name is Barnabas the Breaker,” he said, grinning. “Former Cragtooth.”

“You’re a pirate?”

“Former,” he said, shaking his head. “We’re still on good terms with Titus and the rest of the fleet, but a few years ago we had to cut ties when my sister’s methods got a little too … zealous, shall we say, for them. Now, we’re just free blades.”

“You and your sister?”

He nodded, and for a brief moment his expression shifted, the smug, casual amusement replaced by something sadder, painful. Then it was gone, the minotaur’s usual look back in place. “Yes,” he said. “Most of the time we’re just helping out, but if you’re offering a job …”

“It’ll be for the recovering of the package and its components,” she said. “Regardless of who has it.”

“But the cult has it.”

“They had it last,” she said. “We’ll at least have to confirm whether or not they still have it.”

“And what’s the pay?” Barnabas asked, picking up his mug. “I mean, I’d love to do it for free, but my sister and I have to eat.”

She waited until he’d lifted the mug to his lips. “Fifty thousand bits.”

Barnabas’s eyes opened wide, the cup slamming to the table as he began to cough. “Fif—!” He shook his head, coughing again, and then spoke again, his voice softer. “Fifty thousand?”

“Payable upon the delivery of the package back to the contract holder,” she said.

“Who is?”

She shook her head. “Need to know information, and you don’t need to know.”

“Even if I agree?” he asked.

She nodded. “For this many bits, I’d imagine you wouldn’t have much reason to care who wants the package in the end.” She narrowed her eyes, waiting for his reaction.

“You’d be surprised,” the minotaur said, running one finger along the edge of his axe. “Just because I was a pirate, don’t expect me to just do something unjust. I have my standards.”

“Good,” she said, relaxing. “While I can’t disclose who holds my contract, I can tell you that they’re not in it for the wrong reasons. I’ve got a bit of a moral ground myself.” And more to recover.

“Good,” Barnabas said, nodding. “So, fifty thousand …” He shook his head as he lifted his drink again. “That’s twenty-five thousand apiece.”

“You misheard,” she said as he started another sip. “That fifty thousand is for you. Your sister—” She paused as the mug slammed down again, Barnabas staring at her in shock. “—would also earn a share of that.” Which leaves none for me, she thought, something inside of her protesting the way she was so casually giving away her paycheck. It’s not the paycheck, she told herself as Barnabas’s jaw flapped open and shut. It’s why you’re doing it, and who for. Don’t forget that.

“So …” Barnabas said, his voice slightly raspy and a stunned look on his face. “Maybe you’d better start from the beginning. Who do you need to find, again? And why?”

“A unicorn,” she said, smirking. “Can I assume that you’re in?”

Barnabas nodded. “I think it’s safe to assume that, but first, I’d better ask my sister.” He turned towards the empty alcove she’d spotted earlier, now only a few feet away. “Hey, Frost!” Barnabas called. “You might want to come out here.”

Blade raised an eyebrow as someone deep in the alcove shifted. I didn’t realize there was anyone in there, she thought. How’d a minotaur—?

Her train of thought stumbled as a long-legged, graceful looking pony slid out of the booth, her bright violet eyes locked on their table. She stood for a moment, her gaze sliding across each of them, her face cold, a thin-lipped expression so cool it could have been carved from ice. Then she turned, her horn lighting with a faint purple shimmer as she lifted a bow from her seat and set it across her back.

She’s a unicorn, Blade realized as the mare stepped towards them, her long, thin-haired mane sweeping back and forth across her shoulders. She had the look of a Canterlot supermodel, all long-legged and slender, except that where the pony models Blade had seen had been slender and faintly toned, the effect on this mare’s body was broken by the patchwork of scars across her ice-blue coat and the tight, bunched muscles that rippled beneath her skin.

But even that could have been excused if not for the mare’s eyes. They were cold, dead, as icy as the Ocean itself, so cold that it seemed a faint mist was rolling—No, Blade realized as she kept her eyes on the mare, a faint mist of cold was rolling off of the mare’s body. She glanced at the unicorn’s horn and saw a faint shimmer of magic around it. It was an effect, but a purposeful one.

No wonder Barnabas is so upbeat, she thought as the mare took a seat next to the minotaur without a word. Next to her, anyone would have to work twice as hard at being friendly just to keep from killing the mood.

“Hello, Hain,” the mare said as she set her bow on the table. “You’ve left Ruffian’s Wharf.”

“I have,” Hain said with a nod. “In the employ of this young chick here,” he said, tilting his head in Blade’s direction. “Frost, meet Blade Sunchaser.” Frost’s eyes turned towards her, but the mare gave no other outward indication of interest. “She’s going after the cult.”

Frost’s eyes widened in surprise, only to narrow moments later, the corner of her mouth turning up in a sinister-looking grin. “I’m in.”

“Uh, Frost,” Barnabas said. “Don’t you want to ask about, you know, pay?”

She shook her head, her long mane waving back and forth. “You know the deal, Barnabas. Jobs with the cult are on the house for me. You can charge what you want.”

“They’re offering fifty thousand bits,” Barnabas said, rubbing at his eyes with one hand. “Each.”

“Really?” Frost turned towards Blade. “Each?”

“Yeah,” Blade said. “I need to get something back, and I’m pretty sure the cult’s who has it.”

“Who are you after?” Frost asked.

“Blue unicorn, cutie mark of an eye—” she began.

“Subtle Eye,” Frost said, the name coming out thick with venom. “I’d heard he was back on the Ocean. Caught me by surprise too, I didn’t expect him back for another year. I was going to welcome him personally.”

“With what?” Blade asked.

Frost smirked, her horn lighting. Mist coalesced around her hoof and compressed before fading away and leaving a long, thin blade made entirely of clear ice. “A funeral,” she said, stabbing the ice blade into the tabletop with a meaty thunk.

“Right,” Blade said, nodding as the mare pulled her hoof back. “I take it you don’t like the cult.”

“No,” Frost said. “Your paying my big brother is more than enough for me—” Barnabas let out a pained groan, but Frost continued unabated. “—especially paying that much,” she finished. “You want me for a job that’ll kill some cult members? I’m in. No charge. As long as we do kill some cult members,” she added. “Though if you’re going after Subtle Eye, that’s guaranteed to happen.”

“Come on, Frost,” Barnabas said, shaking his head. “Take the paycheck.”

“They’ll be paying you enough for the both of us,” Frost said. “I’m fine with the terms as-is. Now,” she said, sitting back. “Why’d Hain bring you to me and Barnabas?”

“I—” Blade snapped her beak shut as she spotted one of the ponies from earlier in the corner of her eye, running for the table. “Company,” she said, tensing her body as the pegasus—Wings, right?—slammed into the side of the table.

“Barnabas!” she called, barely looking in Blade’s direction. Her eyes were wide, wild. “The Bloodhooves are docking!”

“All of them?” Barnabas asked in surprise.

Wings nodded. “All three ships,” she said. “I flew here as soon as I saw them. They’re … uh …” The pegasus’s voice faltered as she looked over in Blade and Hain’s direction. “Word is they’re looking for two griffons,” she said, her voice a little quieter but not nearly enough that either of them wouldn’t hear it.

“Well,” Blade said, glancing in Hain’s direction. “If those ships you’re talking about are the ones we saw coming in, then we need to be going. Now.” She looked back towards Barnabas and Frost. “If you’re in you’re coming with us. Are you in?”

“You’re going after the cult?” Frost asked.

“With you or without you,” Blade said, glancing toward the front door and trying to guess how long it would take their pursuers to find out they were in the bar. I wonder if Ennuis himself made it, or if he just sent word ahead?

“With us,” Frost said, standing. “No disputes, Barnabas.”

“Fine,” her brother said, rising and lifting a pack from below the table. “We’re in. You can explain what we’re doing and where we’re going after we get to your ship. Where are you docked?”

“On—” She caught herself with a shake of her head. The less information she said in a crowded bar, even with the music, the better. “We’ll lead you there. Got a back way out of this place?”

“Always,” Barnabas said, grinning and turning to make eye contact with the minotaur behind the bar. He snapped his fingers twice, and the bartender nodded.

“Follow me,” Barnabas said, stepping towards the kitchen entrance, his massive axe swinging in one hand. “And once we’re on your ship and out of here, we can go over the details of our employment, including exactly what it is you’re after. Frost might be on board with it just because it gives her a chance to go after the cult, but me? I like to know a little more about what I’m doing.” He stopped by the doorway, his eyes burrowing into her. “Hain’s bought you a grudging acceptance for this despite having no idea what we’re getting into, but I’d rather get the whole story as soon as possible. Clear?”

“That’s fine,” she said, holding her stare. “I only want to explain this once anyways.”

Barnabas nodded, and stepped through the kitchen door. She followed, and a minute later they were back out in the cold, the early twilight settling in around them as they made their way quickly back to the Manticore.

A short time later, they were back on the ice once more.

Count of Laws Broken: 0
Total Laws Broken: 57
Damage Value (In Bits): 0
Total Damage Value (In Bits): 37,416

Chapter 7 - Conference

View Online

Southwest Ocean

“Still no sign of pursuit?” Blade asked as she stepped onto the bridge, the rolls of maps in her claws crinkling as she walked across the floor.

“None yet,” Hain said, glancing out the back window. “I guess they didn’t get a close enough look at us. Probably helped that we had our stern to the island.”

“Yeah, well, taking on three fully-loaded Bloodhoof cruisers in this barge wasn’t something I wanted to try,” she said as she stepped up next to the console. Alchemy nodded at her as she approached, his hooves still on the wheel despite the fact that the autopilot lever was in the engaged position. “Even if they wanted to take the ship intact,” she added with a glance at the far wall of the bridge. Barnabas and Frost were sitting next to one another with their backs against the wall, eyeing their little group with an interest that Blade was fairly certain Alchemy was returning. Barnabas in particular looked slightly disappointed that they hadn’t run afoul of any of the searching pirates on their way back to the Manticore.

“So,” Blade said, raising her voice and pulling everyone’s eyes in her direction. “Since I think this is going to be our crew, I thought we’d take the time to do some official introductions and get everyone on the same page.”

“Works for me,” Barnabas said, nodding his horned head at Alchemy. “So who’s the scrawny guy?”

“This ‘scrawny guy’ could probably kick your butt,” Blade said, smirking as she sat down. “This is Alchemy—”

“Hey,” he said with a nod.

“—and he’s an alchemist who has to have a certain potion every so often or he’ll die.” She ignored the shocked looks on Frost and Barnabas’s faces and gave them a grin. “Also, said potion makes him a super-soldier.”

“Those are her words, not mine,” Alchemy said, raising a hoof. “Technically, the potion just makes me a lot faster and stronger than anypony else, in addition to granting me enhanced reflexes, senses, and healing capabilities.”

Blade nodded, though she wasn’t sure he’d mentioned a few of those the first time he’d told her what was up. Still, better to not bring it up. He wasn’t the first here who’d failed to mention a few things.

“How strong?” Barnabas asked.

“He threw a diamond dog almost as big as you over his shoulder without even straining,” Hain said. “Trust me, the kid’s got more potential than he looks like he has.”

“Hey,” Alchemy said, frowning. “Who’s side are you on? Besides,” he said, looking towards Barnabas. “It’s all whipcord muscle. I’m not scrawny. Just lean.”

“But it takes a potion,” Barnabas said.

“Well … yes ... It’s complicated,” Alchemy said.

“If you arm-wrestled … I mean, hoof wrestled me right now, would you have to drink your potion first?”

“No,” Alchemy said, shaking his head. “Why? Are you looking for a challenge?”

“Cool it, you two.” Blade shook her head before the pair could get any further. “You want to do that later, that’s fine. Right now, we’ve got planning to do. And again, getting everyone on the same page,” she said, suppressing a sudden urge to roll her eyes. This is why I work solo.

“So, like I said,” she began, gesturing with her talons towards Alchemy. “This is Alchemy. He is—to no one’s surprise here, I would expect—an alchemist, which means he will be serving as our little group’s resident doctor, medic, whatever you want to call it, and also as a close-quarters-combat expert.”

‘Wait, what?” She ignored the orange pony’s outburst as she turned towards Hain.

“Hain most of you seem to know, so I guess I’ll leave the summary out—unless you’d rather do the honors?” The older griffon shook his head, his grey wings unfolding and refolding as he took another look out the back window.

“Suit yourself,” she said, shrugging. “Hain’s going to be our tactical advisor for this job. If you doubt him, don’t. He’s a genius who’s fought in a lot of battles.” She didn’t miss the curious look both Barnabas and Frost gave the griffon. And, apparently, neither did he. He turned and looked straight at them, his expression neutral.

“Before my exile I was a high-ranking commander in the Regency Wars,” he said, his firm voice filling the bridge. “Blade hired me to make use of that expertise. However, before any of you get any ideas, I’ll reiterate what she said. I am here in advisory and combat capacity. Sunchaser here is the leader of this group, and it’s her name on the contract. Is that clear?”

The rest of the room, save Frost nodded. Frost seemed to merely stare at the griffon for a moment before shrugging as if to say “Fine” and shifting her attention back toward Blade.

“Speaking of contracts, are we going to sign anything?” Barnabas asked. “Or are we just going to go verbal?”

“Verbal,” Blade said, emphasizing the word with a quick click of her beak. “Unless you doubt a griffon’s word …?” She let the question hang in the air, fixing her eyes on the minotaur, who shot a quick glance in Hain’s direction.

“No,” Barnabas said, shaking his head. “Verbal is fine. I just wanted to make that clear.”

“Right,” Blade said. “As for myself, I’m Blade Sunchaser, claw-for-hire, and the one holding the contract for this mission.”

“Which is?” The quiet voice cut through the bridge despite its volume, and it took Blade a second to place it as Frost’s.

“First things first,” Blade said, shaking her head. “Barnabas? Care to introduce yourself?”

The minotaur nodded and pushed himself to his hooves, the tips of his horns almost touching the ceiling. “Barnabas, like she said,” he said, mostly addressing his words in the direction of Alchemy. “Uh … former Cragtooth, now I guess I’m just a lump of muscle for hire.” He let out a low chuckle and slapped one hand across his chest. “Frost and I were Hain’s contact, I guess, although to be honest, if the cult’s what you’re interested in, my sister’s the one to talk to. She keeps it all straight. Me?” He let out a laugh. “I don’t mind a good fight now and then, but there’s more to life than that. Like spending a fifty-thousand bit payday.” He winked at Blade as he spoke and then dropped back down to the floor again, the deck vibrating underfoot.

If it wasn’t for the fact that Hain trusts these characters … Blade thought as she turned her attention towards Frost. The ice-blue mare was giving Barnabas a look of resignation, but when he gave her a nod she let out a quiet sigh and stood.

“Frost Glimmer, unicorn,” she said without an ounce of inflection to her voice. “Former Cragtooth. Now I kill cult members.”

“Both of you are former Cragtooths?” Alchemy asked. “Why?”

“Operational differences,” Barnabas said, shrugging. “We’re still affiliated, just not officially.”

“They got cold hooves after I wiped out a group of initiates in Greyhoof,” Frost said.

“I see,” Blade said, nodding. That part made sense at least, especially seeing as how the Cragtooths seemed to be on their hindquarters. A member of their group going around and killing cult members openly was probably a bit antagonistic towards the peace.

“Anyway, that’s what I do,” Frost said, sitting back down. “I kill cult members.”

“She’s also the one with the information,” Barnabas cut in, rustling the mare’s mane with his hand. “My sister here is pretty well connected, and if there’s something the cult knows, odds are she knows it.”

“What’s your talent? Or your cutie mark?” Alchemy asked. Frost’s attention snapped in his direction, her eye narrowing for just a moment.

“Didn’t get a good enough look yet?” she asked, her voice as cool as her namesake. For a moment Alchemy seemed paralyzed by indecision, his eyes widening ever so slightly, and then he grinned.

“Actually no,” he said, and Blade saw Frost tense, her eyes widening in surprise. “It might have something to do with those saddlebags you’re wearing, though, rather than me being a pervert.”

“I—” Frost’s glared at Alchemy, her look cold enough for a moment Blade wondered if she was going to have to find a new medic. Then she let out a snort and rose with a shake of her head.

“Fine,” she said, her horn lighting with its soft, purple glow. Her saddlebags unbuckled themselves and slid to one side, revealing a slightly arcing cutie mark emblazoned across her flank.

“It’s a rose made of ice,” she said as the rest of the group looked on at the sharply angled and colored ice flower on her flank. “It symbolizes my talent at making things from ice.”

“Like that knife you made in the bar,” Blade said.

“Yes,” Frost replied, replacing her bags across her back before sitting down once more. “Or more commonly, arrows for my bow. I can do other things too.”

“Anything not made to kill?” Barnabas asked. Frost glared at him.

“In any case, I am adept at ranged combat and melee combat both,” she said. “Though ranged combat is my specialty, in addition to my knowledge of the Order of the Red Horn.”

“Yeah …” Blade said, thinking back on their discussion at the bar. “I’ve noticed. You’re not very fond of them, are you?”

Frost’s face hardened. “They’re murderous bullies who think they own the Ocean. Every one of them I kill leaves the world a better place, and if that means I have to kill them all before their brutality is extinguished, then so be it.”

“Well,” Blade said, making a mental note to watch what she said around the young mare. “I don’t know if this mission will give you the chance to do that or not, but odds are it will give you a good start. Provided one thing,” she said, leaning forward. “When the situation calls for it, can I count on you to not kill somepony?”

“If the situation calls for it,” Frost said.

“And the judge of that is?” Blade asked.

“You,” Frost said after a moment. “Provided we—”

“Provided nothing, Frost,” she said, shaking her head. “If I give you a specific order and you disobey it you’d better have a darn good reason. Clear?”

Frost turned her eyes towards Barnabas. The minotaur gave her a curt nod. “Fine,” she said, turning back. “So what’s this job anyway?”

“I’ll tell you, but once I do, there’s no going back,” Blade said. “Even if you did leave somehow, I’d expect complete silence.”

“Hey, fifty thousand bits,” Barnabas said, chuckling. “I’d sell my grandmother for that.”

“Would you?” Alchemy asked.

“Of course I would,” he said back. “Have you ever met my grandmother?”

“No.”

“That’s why you’re asking,” Barnabas turned back towards her. “You’ve got me on this one. I won’t say a word you tell me not to. I swear.”

“Right.” She took a moment to run the details over in her mind. “Okay. Before any of you ask, the identity of my employer is a non-disclosure item. Who I’m working for, and what they want with the package … That’s their business, though I can promise they’ve got good intentions for it.”

“In a line, those words worry me,” Hain said. “But keep going.”

“The package, on the other claw, I can tell you about,” she said. “We’re looking for a … well, I guess you could call it the key.”

“A key?” Alchemy asked.

“Not a key,” she said, shaking her head. “The key. At least, that’s how it was explained to me.” Hain, Barnabas and Alchemy were all giving her curious looks. Frost in the meantime just looked thoughtful.

“Look,” she said. “It’s not a key like a house key. And it might not even be a key, that might just be what it’s called. We’re looking for a hunk of crystal—”

“Crystal?”

“Yes, crystal,” she said as Frost’s eyes narrowed. “Its about … oh …” She lifted her talons, spacing it out in the air. “About yea high and about this big around.”

“Crystal?”

“Yes, crystal!” she snapped, her beak clicking together. “A big chunk of weird crystal in the shape of a cone. My contact said it was supposed to be all weird and glowy, clear on the outside but moving closer to blue or black as the crystal moved inward. And that it might glow. They weren’t specific on the matter.”

“So that’s what it is,” Frost said quietly. Blade’s attention snapped in the mare’s direction.

“What what is?” she asked.

“This,” Frost said, reaching into her saddlebags and pulling out a single sheet of paper. She stepped forward and set it on the bridge’s chart table, spreading it flat with both hooves. “One of my spies gave me this just six days back. He didn’t know what it was, but the unicorn you mentioned earlier, Subtle Eye? He had it when he came back from Equestria.”

“Well, yeah,” Blade said as she stared down at the roughly drawn sketch. “That’s why I was hunting him … or the pony with his description anyway. I knew he had it.”

“I didn’t put the two together until just now,” Frost said, glaring at her, mist rolling off of her shoulders. “So, this is it then?”

Blade looked down at the picture, nodding. It was, she realized as she stared at it, a pretty good sketch, done in some form of rough charcoal. It showed the back portion of the key as had been explained to her, though the rest of it was covered in what looked like cloth wrap. But there was no mistaking the long shape of the cone beneath the wrap, nor the crystalline edge to the rim of the base. The artist had even captured the hollow in the bottom of the cone, with the single bar of crystal bridging the gap like some kind of handle.

“Yeah, that’s it,” she said. “At least, it fits the description I was given perfectly.”

“Hmm …” Frost said, sitting back. “And your employer called it a key.”

“Yes,” Blade said, rolling her eyes. “That’s what I said.” She frowned as she looked down at the image again. “They didn’t say anything about these though,” she said, pointing at a series of small scratches on the outer rim of the key.

“They look like scratches to me,” Alchemy said. “Or imperfections in the material. Why?”

“Because they look like writing,” Blade said, tilting her head to the side. “It kind of looks like old griffon-scratch. From before the founding of the Empire.” She tilted her head up to find the rest of the team looking at her. “What? I read history books when I can. Our species has been fighting for a long time.”

“Well,” Frost said, “if it is writing, can you translate it?”

“I didn’t say that it was writing. I said it looked like it. So not without some kind of reference guide. Anyway,” she said, sitting back. “That’s definitely it. So Subtle is the unicorn we need to find.”

“He is,” Frost said, sliding the picture of the key back into her bag. “He had this with him when he arrived.”

“Good.”

“No,” Frost said. “Not good. Subtle isn’t some low-ranking unicorn. He’s a full mage in the Order. Which means he’s dangerous, and well insulated by the Order itself.”

“And that means?” Blade prompted.

Frost took a step back and looked at each of them. “It means Subtle is one of the higher-ranking members of the Order. Assuming you could even get to him specifically, he’d probably be hard to kill—”

“We just want the key back,” Blade interjected.

“—and he likely wouldn’t have the key anyway,” Frost finished, glaring at her. “Subtle is a spy, an agent who broke his cover a year early to bring that key back. If he did that, it implies that the cult considers the key of high value. Especially since I’ve heard no word of Subtle’s position within the cult changing.”

“So, what?” Blade said. “It’s a tougher job?”

“To put it lightly, yes,” Frost said. “Subtle’s arrival coincided with a build-up of activity around the cult itself. This key?” She tapped at the piece of parchment. “It probably was responsible for part of that. Whatever it is, they value it.”

“Do you know what it is?” Hain asked.

“Not for certain,” she admitted. “I’m still digging. The cult itself is insulated, making it hard to get information out. But given a bit of time, I should be able to. Given that it’s call ‘the key,’ however, it can’t be good. And I can make assumptions.”

“Right,” Blade said, shaking her head. “So the question is, how do we get it, and the fragment that was with it, back?”

“Fragment?”

“There was a smaller crystal fragment with it,” she explained. “No idea what it’s for, but it’s part of the deal, too. We need both pieces.”

“A portion of another key?” Alchemy looked up at her as he spoke.

“Maybe,” she said, turning towards Frost. “Your source say anything about a second piece?”

“No.”

“Thunderheads. I hope he didn’t ditch it.” She looked back down at the image again. “So then, Frost and Barnabas ... How are we going to steal this sucker back?”

Frost glanced at her brother and then shook her head. “We don’t,” she said.

“All right …” Blade took a slight lean back, eyeing the pair. “I’m assuming from how you said that, that there is an alternative to getting this job done as opposed to giving up?”

“If the cult values it, then it’ll be in the cult stronghold,” Barnabas said. “That’s the Bloody Tip, or Pinnacle Rock. The old griffon eyrie.”

“With you so far.”

“The Bloody tip is a stronghold,” Barnabas continued. “Open ice on all sides. Clear vantage point. Airship and ship docks. It’s the locus of force for the Order. Patrolled by Bloodhooves and Order Initiates both.” The minotaur glanced over at Hain. “Anything you want to add?” he asked.

“No,” Hain said, shaking his head. “And having not seen it, all I can add is that from what I understand, sneaking in would prove dangerous.”

“Not dangerous, suicidal,” Frost said. “If we tried to sneak inside.”

“Right, not an option,” Blade said. “I’m getting that. So what’s option two?”

Frost gave her a cold smile. “We get an army, and crack Pinnacle wide open.”

For a moment the bridge was silent save for the faint whistle of wind and the groan of the ice. Even Barnabas seemed stunned by his sibling’s claim, staring at Frost with wide eyes. Finally, Blade spoke, working her vocal cords as she forced the words out.

“Say that again?”

“We get an army, and we crack the tower in half. Kill most of the cult. Get your key back.” Frost sat back, the same cool smile still on her face. “It’s perfect.”

“It’s insane,” Barnabas said. “Maybe a crack force could have a moment’s surprise, sis, but—”

“No,” she said, her smile vanishing, the cold, hard look on her face once more. “It has to be an army. I know what kind of forces the cult has inside that tower. How many unicorns they’ve subverted to their cause, even what kind of experiments they’ve been working on.”

“Worse,” she continued, “I have a hunch that they want that key because they have a purpose to it.”

“Like what?” Blade asked.

“It’s a key,” Frost said, her voice flat. “And from what I’ve been able to gather about the Order of the Red Horn, their founders were determined to free some ancient, evil unicorn king from way back when. They don’t talk about it often, but I’ve had a few of them mention their search for him. Usually right before I stick an ice spear through their hearts. No name, just the mention of some ancient dark lord.”

“Right …” Blade sat back, running the thought through her mind. Ancient sealed evil being, huh? A frown slipped across her face, her wings shifting, a few stray red feathers falling to the floor. Crud. I don’t like this, but that actually makes sense. Even if they’re just a bunch of nutty cultists … Her mind flashed back to two years earlier, when the sun had stayed down for more than a day after the mare in the moon had vanished.

“Okay,” she said, nodding. “I’m willing to believe that one’s plausible. Ancestors knowing we’ve already got enough in our talons, I’m not going to put the concept of some ancient, sealed evil being out of the picture.” She looked over at Frost. “Do you think they’re right?”

“Honestly,” Frost asked, lifting one eyebrow. “I doubt it. Lord Sagis is a calculating, power-hungry schemer who’d say whatever it took to get his cult to follow him. The question isn’t whether or not it’s true, but if he’s willing to get his cult to believe it. And they will.”

“Let me guess,” Hain cut in. “This ends with a genocidal war on the rest of the Ocean.”

“A war they’re already well equipped to win at the moment,” Frost said. “Which means our chances of getting the key back are nill without taking the cult apart.”

“What would you suggest, then?” Hain asked. ‘We’re a small force. We can’t wage a war ourselves.”

“No …” Barnabas said. “But we could convince others to.”

“Exactly,” Frost said, her mane bouncing as she nodded. “The Cragtooths are already determined to push the cult back. The griffons want their eyrie back. Both sides want revenge.” She smirked. “If we can convince the griffons that the Cragtooths are willing to work together, the combined might of both forces would be enough to crack the Pinnacle—with a little help from our own influence, of course—and get you your key back.”

Blade nodded. “It sounds like you’ve had this planned for a while. But making a cold war go hot sounds like a lot of work.” She narrowed her eyes. “Are you sure there’s no other way in?”

“Trust me,” Frost said, her voice low. “If there was, I’d have done it already. Even if I didn’t make it back out.”

“Frost …” Barnabas said, a warning tone in his voice.

“Stuff it, Barnabas,” she said, not even looking in his direction. “You know the truth of that as well as I do.”

“I’d like to look at your estimates of the Order’s force assembly,” Hain said, his gravelly voice suddenly warming the cool air between everyone. “But for the moment, I’m going to have to agree with your tactical assessment.”

‘Well,” Blade said, pulling back. “I guess that settles it. So who do we talk to first? Where are we pointing the boat?”

“South,” Frost said quickly. “Due south, towards Cedar Shipyards. If we’re going to do this much traveling, we’re not going to want to do it in this sledge. We’ll need to pick up my brother and I’s ship. Besides,” she said, her lips turning upward in dangerous-looking smile that reminded Blade of a hunting sandcat. “Currently the Bloodhooves are running the shipyards, and if we want to get the Cragtooths and the Teardrop Eyrie on our side, we’ll need to show them we mean business.”

“And for that,” Blade said, allowing a small smirk to slide across her own face. “We’ll need to send a message.” She turned towards Alchemy. “How long will it take us to get there?”

“In this thing?” Alchemy asked. “Three days.”

“Perfect,” she said, flaring her wings ever so slightly. “Then take us south.” She let out a short, curt laugh. “To the Cedar Shipyards!”

Count of Laws Broken: 0
Total Laws Broken: 57
Damage Value (In Bits): 0
Total Damage Value (In Bits): 37,416

Chapter 8 - Recon

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Cedar Shipyards - Southwest end of the Ocean

“Still just the two ships?” Barnabas asked, his voice a low rumble at her shoulder as he passed.

“Yeah,” Blade, bringing the binoculars around once more and sweeping her view across the distant bay. “Still just the two.” She twisted the binocular’s eyepiece, the image in front of her eyes blurring and then refocusing on the second of the two frigates patrolling the entryway to the bay.

“Any sign they’re suspicious yet?” Frost asked, once again twisting the rope she was using in her hooves.

“No,” Blade said, shifting her weight and fighting the urge to stretch her wings. Being pressed up between the gunwale and the side of the cabin with the lid of a wooden crate over her wasn’t the most comfortable option, but it was a lot less conspicuous than simply standing on the back of the ship and staring directly at the pirate vessels. “They’re looking this way every so often, but so far the plan’s working.”

“Good,” Barnabas said. “Can it stop working soon? I never liked being an ice dredger in the first place. Fake acting it isn’t any better.”

“Not long now,” Blade said, shifting the binoculars back over to the other frigate. Like the first, it was anchored slightly against the ice by a long, curved spike that kept it from sliding, but she could see the activity of the crew, faint shapes moving across the deck as they kept watch. “I just want to make sure there aren’t any more ships hiding in that shipyard before we go blazing in."

The shipyard itself was at the far end of the bay, more than a half a mile beyond the two Bloodhoof frigates, but even at that distance the structure still dwarfed the two ships. It was massive, more massive than anything she’d seen on the ice so far; a long, flat warehouse with a gently sloped roof that was several hundred feet across, and more than twice that long. It didn’t have the same eye-catching quality that a building like The Chandelier had enjoyed, but it was an impressive piece of engineering all the same, especially with the backing of the dark-green pines that surrounded it. Just looking at the crossbeams that held up the massive roof, she could see that the thickest of them had to at least be six or seven feet thick, maybe more. It was a bit hard to tell as far away as they were.

Advantages and disadvantages, she thought as she adjusted the glasses again, trying to bring into focus the masts standing beyond the closed gateways to the shipyard. Though the upper levels of the shipyard were open to the elements, the lower levels were hidden from her view by an angled wooden wall designed to block the wind. And since none of the gates were open at the moment ...

Things are accidentally working in the Bloodhooves' favor at the moment, Blade thought as she tried to get the glasses to focus on the distant masts, the only bit of the ships she could see. At the current distance they looked like toothpicks. Even with these binoculars … She lowered them in frustration, blinking rapidly as her eyes were forced to readjust. It was no use, she wasn’t going to get any useful information on any additional ships the Bloodhooves had in the area unless someone opened one of the gates.

Still … She brought the binoculars back up, panning her view across the top of the shipyard. While it was still distant, her eyes were sharp enough to pick out what looked like some light construction along the roofline. Someone was doing something out there, though she couldn’t quite see what.

Probably better we know what it is before we push anything further, she thought, swinging the binoculars around for one last quick look at the two frigates. It’s probably in our best interest to beat it before those boats get too curious and come out for a look. If that happened, they’d be outmatched heavily—one of the frigates alone was packing more firepower than their meager reconfigured ice dredger. The long, widespread U-shape of the bay gave both the frigates an advantageous defensive position for protecting the shipyard, and with the long, open view there was plenty of time for either of them to intercept any approaching vessels.

Speaking of which, Blade thought, lowering the glasses once more and twisting her body beneath the crate. We’d better get a move on. She winced as the rough wood tugged at her feathers, forcing them to bend back in the wrong direction as she pulled herself free of her concealment.

“All right,” she said as she backed around the front of the cabin, putting it between her and the two frigates at their ship’s back. “I’ve seen enough. Drop that ice and lets get out of here.”

“Finally,” Barnabas muttered, dropping the crate he’d been walking back and forth with for the last ten minutes. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Quit complaining,” Frost said, tugging at the rope they’d tossed over the one side to make it look like they’d been dredging. “You had to carry a box.”

“It was boring,” Barnabas said. “Also, ice dredging work. I hate ice dredging work.”

“It’s not so bad,” Alchemy said as he waved his hoof up at the bridge and then moved towards the front of the Manticore where its ice-anchor was holding them in place. “It’s a bit earned. Besides, I’m with Frost on this one, all you did was carry a box. We’re the ones who had to fake scraping that ice up.”

Whatever Barnabas was going to say as a reply was lost as Blade stepped inside, the door swinging shut behind her as she climbed up the stairs towards the bridge.

“So?” Hain asked from his position at the wheel as she stepped onto the bridge. “What do you think?”

“The direct approach is suicide,” she said. Beneath her the Manticore’s deck began to tilt to one side as the ice-anchor disengaged, the wind twisting their vessel. ‘We’re definitely going to have to try the alternative.”

“Right,” Hain said as he yanked at one of the control levers. A dull rumble echoed through the ship as the sails began to unfold, gears and springs shifting as the side sails and topsails unfolded into place. Down on the deck, Barnabas gave them a thumbs up before turning and stepping into the cabin, Frost and Alchemy right behind him. A moment later Blade could hear the heavy tread of the minotaur’s hooves against the steps, followed by the rhythmic clop-clop of his sister and Alchemy, and Barnabas’s head moved into sight, bobbing up and down as he climbed.

“So!” he called. “What’s the word?”

“A frontal assault would be suicide,” Blade answered as the Manticore began to pick up speed, moving north and away from the shipyard—as well as the hopefully still not-curious frigates, neither of which would have trouble running them down if they wanted to. “One of those frigates is more than a match for us, and with two of them, plus whatever they’ve been doing to the shipyard itself, we’d have no chance.”

“What are they doing to the shipyard?” Alchemy asked, his ears laying back slightly.

“I couldn’t tell,” she admitted. “There’s some sort of construction going on the front side of the roof, but I’d need to get closer to see what it was.”

“In all likelihood, I’d expect they’re defenses,” Hain said, clicking the autopilot into place and then turning to face the rest of the group. “If the Bloodhooves are serious about holding the shipyard—which would be the strategically intelligent move to make—setting up a permanent defensive line would free up those two frigates to be used elsewhere.”

“But the shipyards are neutral,” Alchemy said, his face falling. “They’ve always been neutral.”

“Alchemy,” Hain said with a shake of his head. “In war, neutral just means you haven’t picked a side yet. If the opposing factions are nice, you’ll get a lot of time to make that decision, maybe even enough that the war ends before you ever decide. If they’re not, they’ll decide for you. Nobody is truly neutral. They’ve either got friends, allies, or something else keeping their enemies off of them.”

“Regardless,” Blade said, pulling the group’s focus back. “A frontal assault is out. Even with the element of surprise, we’d get wiped out before we ever got close enough to make any move. Which means,” she said, glancing towards Hain and eyeing him just long enough to see his nod of agreement. “We’re going to have to go with the other plan.”

“Which other plan?” Barnabas asked.

“The one where we come in through the town itself,” Blade said. “We beach the Manticore a mile or so down the coast outside the bay, and make our way through the forest towards the shipyard.”

“I thought that plan only worked if we had enough of an element of surprise,” Barnabas said. “Those frigates can just bottle us in.”

“No,” Frost said, shaking her head. “Not if we seize control of the defenses that Blade spotted.”

Blade grinned. So someone else in the group had thought of that. “Exactly,” she said. “If Hain is right, and those are defensive emplacements, we can commandeer one or two of them and turn them on their own frigates. If we act fast enough, we might be able to take both of them out.”

“What about the garrison?” Barnabas asked.

“A distraction,” Hain said. “One of us goes in, poses as a dockyard worker, maybe, and causes a problem. Starts a fire or something.”

“Start a fire in the shipyard?” Alchemy said, his eyes growing round. “That place is made of wood!”

“And I’m sure they’ve got plenty of fire suppressants,” Hain said. “It was just a suggestion in any case.”

“What about the docks themselves?” Barnabas offered. “We could cut some of the moorings. The shipyard has a slight slope to its plates to make it easier to get the ships out.”

“Good idea,” Blade said, nodding. “And possibly capable of causing enough chaos that we could get out even if we can’t do anything about the frigates. Speaking of which.” She turned towards Frost. “Your corvette can outrun those frigates, right?”

“With ease,” Frost said, smiling one of her cold smiles. “The Arrow is one of the fastest ships on the Ocean. If we can get clear of their range, they’re not going to catch us.”

“So then, we try both,” Blade said. “We beach the Manticore—”

“Why not leave it anchored offshore and have you and Hain ferry us?” Alchemy asked. “I mean, the Manticore isn’t the best boat, but this thing’s still worth a lot of bits.”

“Yeah, sure,” Blade said, unable to keep a grin from forming. “It’s also a pirate ship owned by a self-conceited jerk of a minotaur. Call me petty, but I think wrecking it sends a good message to both the Bloodhooves and Ennuis.”

“Expensive message,” Barnabas said. “What if we need to retreat?”

“I—” She caught herself, beak clicking shut. “Fine,” she admitted. “That might be a good reason to have it. How about we compromise. We swing in and anchor it next to the coast and then do our recon. If the situation looks good, we slag the boat and go in on foot. Good enough?”

“I still don’t like the idea of setting fire to the shipyard,” Alchemy said, shaking his head. “Look, I know you’re all the professionals at this, but hear me out. That whole place is made of wood. If you set fire to it, the whole thing could go up, and it’s not just Bloodhooves down there. Cedar Shipyards relies on a whole mess of dockhooves and carpenters, ponies whose livelihood is in that dock. I’ve met some of them—”

“Alright, alright.” Blade held up an open claw and spread her wings. “Your point is made. We’ll try not to damage the place that badly, all right? The goal is the steal Frost’s ship back anyway.”

“And to send a message,” Frost said. “To both the Cragtooths and the Bloodhooves.”

“Why not to the dockhooves as well?” Hain asked. “ Alchemy, you just said you know those ponies, right?” The orange earth pony nodded.

“Then why not let it be a message for them as well?” Hain said, his straight-backed posture adding a hint of regality to his words. “Depending on the size of the garrison, we might be able to help them kick the Bloodhooves out entirely.”

“That’s sounding a lot like a revolution we’re not getting paid for,” Blade said. “And one that could take a little too long to stick around and set up.”

“Not necessarily,” Barnabas said. “I doubt the workers are appreciative of the Bloodhooves’ violation of their neutrality. If we sow enough chaos, shout the right words at the right time, they might clean up for us.”

“Okay,” Blade said, nodding. “When you put it that way, it sounds like an acceptable bonus.” A plan was forming in her mind, and she ran her eyes across the four members of her team. “All right,” she said, looking at Hain. “I think we can do this, but first things first, I need to get a better look at those defensive emplacements.” She stepped over to the chart table and took a look down at the close-up of Cedar Bay and the surrounding shoreline.

“Hain,” she said, tapping a section of the coastline with one talon. “Can you take the Minotaur here and wait for me?”

“Sure,” Hain said, glancing down at the map. “It’ll be maybe an hour for us to get there.”

“Where are you going?” Alchemy asked as she stepped across the bridge once more, grabbing an insulated jacket from the wall and sliding it over her back, her wings slipping through the two cuts left in the material for that purpose. Next came her bags, along with the binoculars she’d used earlier, strapped in place in case she needed to do some fancy flying.

“To get a closer look at those emplacements,” she said, wrapping her scarf around her neck and feeling a faint sense of satisfaction that at least the colors were dark rather than bright and easily visible. The sky was mostly a grey, foreboding overcast, but bright colors would stand out against almost anything.

“Anyone see any of those long strips of—Thanks,” she said as two pairs of the warm cloth floated into view, wrapped in Frost’s magic. She still wasn’t overly fond of the mare’s cold attitude—She definitely takes that name of hers far too literally—but at least she was helpful. She sat back, wrapping each cloth around one of her forelegs.

Just like the old days training, she thought as she gave the last one a final tug, folding the long end back under itself to make sure it stayed put. Except this might be a lot colder than a high-altitude flight.

“All right,” she said as she stepped over towards the door, already feeling the warmth of the layers she’d added over her body. “Be waiting for me there, and if I’m not back by dark, keep the lights on. Hain?” The old griffon glanced in her direction. “Until I get back, you’re in charge.”

“Wait, I—” Whatever else he had to say was lost over the rush of the wind as she threw the back door open, leaping over the back railing and spreading her wings wide to catch the thin air. The endless groan of the Ocean echoed around her as she pushed her wings down, fighting for altitude.

I should have grabbed a pair of goggles, she thought as she pressed her eyelids together, narrowing her field of view. Then again, at least it’s not snowing. Yet. The air temperature had fluctuated wildly over the last few days, a sure sign, according to both Frost and Hain both, that there was a snowfall imminent. Hopefully they’d be long gone before it hit.

Then again, if we pull a smash and grab with this like we hope, we will be, she thought, pumping her wings. The Manticore was already fading to a toy behind her, though it would be matching her lead soon enough. She adjusted her course, keen to keep away from the mouth of the bay.

The shoreline was a little over a mile away, but it felt longer. The cool air sucked at her strength, providing little lift and forcing her to flap harder than she was used to. Slowly, inexorably, she climbed, rising above the ice and into the sky, but she could feel her heart beating against her chest, a rapid, steady drumbeat.

I hate flying in the cold, she thought as she reached a level altitude and relaxed her wingbeats. It’s like flying in a dry fog. You don’t get wet, but it wears you out. Plus, you can’t glide as far.

Still, she was close enough to the distant shore now that her eyes could distinguish the line of tundra between the rich, dark silt that made up the edge of the beach and the tall, firm forest behind it. She went into a long glide, letting her wings rest as the shoreline drew closer, beating them only when she could see she was losing too much altitude. The silt barrier passed by beneath her, and she tucked her wings in close, angling her body downward as the treeline came closer.

The frozen grass was brittle beneath her paws, cracking under the pressure of her body as she landed. Faint patches of dry snow pocketed the landscape, mixing with the off-yellow flora to create a terrain that looked a bit like the hide of a sick cow.

No point in waiting, she thought, pushing ahead into the forest, putting herself inside the pines before turning west and heading towards the shipyard. It’s already going to be a bit of a walk, and we’ve only got so much daylight. The last thing she wanted to do was try to pull the job off at night. With the shipyard as well-lit as Barnabas and Alchemy had claimed, either of the frigates could have sat back in the darkness and just picked them apart as they left.

A faint shiver ran down her spine as she held back the urge to spread her wings and fly the rest of the way to the shipyard. Her breath was already leaving misty clouds in the air behind her, and despite her fitness she could feel the cold chill her flight had left her with.

Better to save my strength for the flight back, she thought. And maybe, just maybe, if I do this fast enough, I’ll have time to warm up before we have to move. Besides, moving slower and lower would make it harder for her to be spotted by any patrols. Assuming there were any.

And if she didn’t make it back in time, she considered, brushing a small, leafless bush aside with her talons, there was the option of simply waiting. Spending the night aboard the Manticore, and then making their move the next morning, after a night of planning. The idea had appeal.

On the other claw, that’s just one more day’s worth of lost time, she thought as she slowed, her path blocked by a particularly thick clump of brittle, leafless brush. After a moment’s consideration she spread her wings and lifted into the air, flying for only a moment until she’d cleared the thick tangle. I’ve already been here for what? A week? She ran over the days in her head. Three days travel from Northgait to Ruffian’s Wharf, two days of travel from there to Ender’s Isle, and now another two days to get from there to here, plus today. So … yeah, a week.

She glanced to her side as the growling of the Ocean faded somewhat, worried that she’d angled away from it, but then the sound surged back with a deep, low groan that seemed vibrate her very bones. A large piece of ice shifting maybe.

It’s still weird how it does that, she thought, the feathers of her ruff twitching slightly and trying to rise as she locked her eyes on the distant ice. It’s a whole ocean of ice. No water. Just … ice. She shook her head, bringing her eyes back forward. Ice was supposed to be solid and stable, something that formed on water when it got cold that kits could play on. Not something that heaved and shifted in great, groaning chunks, endlessly shifting like a restless fledgling.

Alchemy had tried to give her the explanation for it—something about the ethereal crystal that everyone was harvesting mixing with the ice down where it was formed, and then reacting with ambient magic to push and pull against itself in a polarized system—but after the first ten minutes she’d just shaken her head and told him to forget about it.

It works, it’s weird, but it’s something I can deal with, she thought. Beneath her paws, the ground began to slope upwards, rising slightly as she neared the bay. Apparently the way the ice moved even had something to do with the snow in the area. Something about the ice grinding against itself to make ice dust …

This place just follows its own rules. Up ahead she could see the ground cresting, the skyline opening up as the ground gave way quickly down towards the bay. On the other claw, she thought as she dropped to her belly and wriggled over the edge of the hill, Cedar bay spread out before her. Some things stay the same.

She grinned as she made note of her position relative to the twin pirate frigates. Both of them were to her right, resting at anchor further up the bay. Neither of them were pointed in her direction.

Sloppy, she thought with a faint sense of satisfaction as she unclipped the binoculars from her bags, her talons working carefully so that the buckles wouldn’t make any loud sounds. And if they have any patrols out, they’re either the most quiet I’ve ever encountered, or … She grinned as she slipped the glasses in front of her face, her vision blurring and then refocusing. They just don’t have any.

Amateurs. Then again, she’d make sure to thank them for their oversight. Personally.

All right, she thought as her old habits took over, forcing her breathing to come as slowly as possible just in case there was a notable misting of her breath. Let’s see what we can find. She locked her attention on the frigates first, running her gaze down both of the ships and cataloguing both their visible crew and their weapon emplacements. That done, she shifted the binoculars, panning them across the bay and over towards the shipyard itself.

Now that she was at a different angle she could better see the mass of infrastructure that had been built behind the gargantuan dock, a widespread collection of homes and businesses sided by a lumber yard that covered almost half as much ground as the shipyard did.

Makes sense, she thought as she gave the yard a quick once over, focusing only for a few seconds on the large structure at one end. She held her breath for just a moment, straining her ears, and heard the faint but unmistakable sound of saws. Sawmill. They cut down the trees, bring them here, and they’ve got all the wood they need. She let her gaze continue panning back past the mill and up the mountains behind it, her eyes picking out the telltale patches of lighter and darker green that marked decades of logging.

Well, I guess that’s where the wood comes from, she thought, eyeing a fresh bald spot at the edge of a darker patch. Looks like a good steady business.

Still, it probably wasn’t too relevant to her current mission, unless … She panned her glasses across the lumbermill once more.

Not a lot of wood down there, she thought as she eyed the empty gravel lots. But the place looks pretty busy. She could see multiple sapients—minotaurs, diamond dogs, and ponies—rushing around and moving wood across the empty lot, but most of the wood was either piled by what looked like the mill’s entrance to the docks or being taken straight inside.

She lowered the binoculars for a moment, resting her talons on the cold, mossy ground. A lumberyard that big shouldn’t be going through wood that quickly, she thought. Not unless they’re building something huge. Like a fleet. Granted, there were the emplacements that were being built up on the front of the roof, but those alone wouldn’t have needed much more than a lot or two’s worth of wood. To empty the whole yard, though ...

Just what are you guys up to? she asked, lifting the glasses once more and focusing the lenses on the distant shipyard. She was high enough now that she could just barely see over the wind-blocking wall, giving her a slightly better view of what was going on—

The binoculars almost slipped from her talons as the distant scene came into focus, and she tightened her grip, her claws scraping over the metal as she adjusted the lenses, double-checking what she’d just seen.

Yep, she thought as she watched the dockhooves swarm across the skeletal shape. Unless they’re practicing some method of shipbuilding I’m not familiar with, that’s definitely what I’m looking at.

* * *

“They’re building a what?” Hain asked.

“A dreadnought,” she said, shaking her head before biting back down into her hot meal. “Or a pleasure cruiser, I guess,” she said, her words slightly muffled by the hot haunch of rabbit. She paused, swallowing and letting out a sigh of satisfaction as the hot meal slid down into her gut, warming her frozen body every step of the way. “But I can’t see any other reason why they’d build a ship that big, so … dreadnought.”

“It makes sense,” Frost said. “Pyre, the Bloodhooves’ leader, has always shown an interest in larger, more intimidating ships.”

“Which wouldn’t matter so much if so far the strategy hadn’t been proven right,” Barnabas interjected. “Pyre already has his flagship, the Ocean’s Flame. The Behemoth is even bigger.”

“Aptly named, then,” Alchemy said, pausing from the demolition of his own dinner. All four of them were clustered around the ship’s galley table, eating and listening while she gave them her report.

“It is,” Barnabas said. “Over two-hundred and fifty feet from end to end, all hardened, pressure-treated wood. Multiple armaments, including heavy ballista, catapults, and over thirty cannons. Heavily reinforced for ramming duty. Onboard supplies to tend to her attendant fleet.”

Alchemy’s eyes widened at the mention of the cannons. “Over thirty cannons?”

“Crude ones,” Barnabas amended. “They haven’t quite got the time, money, or patience to bother trying for anything better. At most we’re looking at basic, blunt weapons. Powerful, but blunt. Gunpowder’s expensive, and I don’t think many would deal with the Bloodhooves with anything more modern.”

“Anyway,” Frost said, glaring at her brother. “If what you saw is correct—” Blade bit back a comment, instead letting her tail lash slightly beneath the table, “—then Pyre has apparently decided that simply forcing the shipyard to produce another ship of that size would be preferable to paying for it. That would be a justifiable reason for seizing the shipyard, I imagine.”

“It’s a pretty obvious act of aggressive intent, though,” Hain said. “Do the Cragtooth’s just not know about this?”

Barnabas shrugged. “Hard to say, since we’re not officially part of the their group. Based on their lack of action however, I’m going to guess that at the moment, either no, or they’re not sure what to do about it. How far along is it?” he asked, turning towards her. “They’ve only held the shipyard for a few weeks.”

She shook her head, the Manticore swaying beneath her as the wind shifted. “Barely anywhere. They’ve got a skeleton laid out. You know, the framework? And I could see them working on a few decks.”

“So it’s early on,” Alchemy said. “They’ll be working on it for another few months at least.”

“Depends on how quickly they want to use it,” Hain said. “As I understand it ...” The older griffon glanced towards Alchemy and Barnabas, as if looking for their confirmation. “The lifting plates will go in first, correct?” The pair nodded.

“So it’s capable of floating on the ice already then,” Hain said.

“Good,” Blade said, pulling everyone’s eyes back in her direction. “That’s actually something I was going to ask.”

“What about other ships?” Frost asked. “Did you get any idea if they were building anything else?”

She shook her head. “No,” she said between bites. “There were other ships in there, but most of them looked pretty complete. They might have been working on a few, but that was it.”

“Were any of them Bloodhooves?” That was the question she’d been dreading arriving.

“Honestly?” she said, dropping her fork with a sharp clink. “I don’t know. If they were, they weren’t making it apparent.”

“What about obvious interior forces?” Hain asked. “A garrison.”

She nodded. That was something she could answer. “At least thirty ponies. About ten or so wandering the docks, another fifteen up on the defensive emplacements, and a small group in the town.” She paused, eyeing Frost before speaking again. “And there were unicorns with them.”

The mare’s eyes snapped up, a faint, misty sheen rising from her mane. “How many?” she growled.

“Five or six,” Blade said. “I got a little closer so I could get a better look. All of them but one had bit of red paint on the end of their horns.”

‘And the other one?”

“Red band around the base.”

“A chosen. With a tag-along pack of initiates,”Frost hissed. “The Order is involved.”

“Yeah, that’s what I figured,” she said. “How tough are they? Is it going to be a problem.”

“No,” Frost said, her voice flat. “Initiates are stronger opponents than most, but only by virtue of their magic. Chosen are even more dangerous, but with a limited number of spells. If the initiates manage to reinforce the chosen it could be a difficult kill, but …” She blinked. “Were they moving as a pack? Or were they spread out across the shipyard?”

“There were two of them helping with the weapons emplacements,” she said, thinking back. “But the rest were in the town with the chosen pony.”

“What about the weapon emplacements?” Hain asked.

“Heavy ballistas. There are two of them working, though it looks like the goal is to have four. Which means if we hit the docks tomorrow, there’ll be two of them ready and waiting for us to use.”

“It sounds like you’ve got a plan then,” Hain said.

She nodded, spearing a single bit of almost cool rabbit on a talon and lifting it into the air. “You bet. It’s going to take a little work,” she said, leaning forward and giving the rest of the table her best grin. “But I think you’re all really going to like it.”

“So eat up,” she said as another gust of wind shifted the Manticore to one side, the distant screech of the ice-anchor floating through the galley. “Because come tomorrow, we’re stealing ourselves a ship.”

Count of Laws Broken: 0
Total Laws Broken: 57
Damage Value (In Bits): 0
Total Damage Value (In Bits): 37,416

Chapter 9 - Does It Really Count as Theft?

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Cedar Shipyards

“All right,” Blade said as she lowered her body down atop the cold, mossy ground. She didn’t look at it. Her eyes fixed on the distant shipyard. “We’re here.” She twisted one foreleg back, opening her saddlebags and unclipping the binoculars. “Now we wait.”

She brought the binoculars around and up in front of her eyes, peering through them at the distant shipyard and picking out the ballista emplacements along the roofline. She could see several groups of ponies hard at work on the weapons already, carting long, heavy bolts down the walkway that had been built across the roof towards the front of the structure.

“What do we have?” Hain asked by her side, his voice low.

“About the same number of pirates we had yesterday,” she said, panning the glasses over the walkway and picking out the more obvious tattooed ponies. “Looks like eight or nine of them … Wait … A new group just came up the back. Make that twelve. Intermixed with civilians moving the crossbow bolts.”

“What about unicorns?”

“I spot … two,” she said, adjusting the focus. “Both initiates, one at each weapon.”

“Are they working?”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “They’re just watching.”

“I never fought a magic user before,” Alchemy said from somewhere behind her. He was probably still putting on the harness they’d rigged for him the night before, though if he was, at least he was keeping it fairly quiet. Not that there was much chance of them being heard this far out. Even so, it never hurt to take precautions. As long as he kept his movement below the curve of the hill, they’d probably be just fine.

“Don’t worry about the initiates,” she said, dropping the glasses and giving herself a full view of the scene once more. “They’re up by the ballistas. Your job is to clear the walkway and keep any reinforcements from making it to Hain and I. We’ll deal with the magic users.”

“Well, try not to get hit,” Alchemy said, a faint grunt punctuating his words alongside the slight hum of rope sliding across rope. “That potion I had you drink this morning might not react well to the influx of magic.”

She froze, catching her wings just before they flared outward. “You didn’t tell me that,” she said, turning and looking down the hill at the earth pony. The rope harness was twisted around his body, only halfway on. “Exactly what do you mean by ‘it might not react well?’”

“What?” Alchemy looked confused for a moment and then he shook his head. “No, no, no. That’s not what I meant. It’ll just ruin the data, that’s all.”

“Then you probably should have waited until after we freed the Arrow, grabbed our gear, and got out of here,” she said, turning her attention back towards the shipyard. She lifted the glasses once more. “Even with Frost’s ship, it’s going to be a three day trip to get to Teardrop.”

“But the potion takes a full day just to set,” Alchemy said, his voice rising a little. “The longer I wait, the less time I have to … to … crud.” There was a faint thump behind her, followed by the snapping of brittle undergrowth as someone began to roll down the hill.

“Hain, you want to—?”

“On it,” the older griffon said. The moss shifted as he slid away, moving down the hill toward wherever Alchemy had ended up. “What about those ballistas?”

Her view blurred again as she adjusted the binoculars, zooming in on the two heavy ballista emplacements. “They’re not any model I recognize,” she said as behind her she heard Hain help Alchemy up. “They look similar to a Model B Autoloader though.”

“What’s that mean?” Alchemy asked, his voice ending on a quick burst alongside the tightening zip of rope.

“It means that the bolts are loaded automatically once the cord’s latched itself to the catch,” Hain said. “It reduces the firing time. Also, it means Blade and I won’t have worry about reloading the darn things. What about bolt types?” The question was directed at her.

“It’s hard to tell from here,” she said, lowering the binoculars and shaking her head. “No, make that impossible to tell. We’ll stick with Plan A.”

She shifted her attention to the frigates, still anchored on the ice a little ways up the bay. Looks like half of them are just barely waking up, she thought as she watched the groggy-looking pirates stumble about. That’s good news for us. Grogginess meant a lack of discipline, maybe even boredom. The less responsive the frigates were, the better chance their plan would have of working.

There was a rustling sound beside her as both Hain and Alchemy both slid into position. “We’re ready,” Hain said. “Any sign of Frost or Barnabas?”

She swept her glasses over towards the town and lumber mill. “No,” she said, giving the place a slow, long-distance once over before adjusting the lenses and pulling her view in closer. “It doesn’t look like they’ve broken the tree line yet.”

“Any sign of the cultists?” Alchemy asked.

“Yeah,” she said as she spotted two more unicorns standing in the middle of the lumber yard. “Two initiates in the lumber yard, just watching everybody work.” She shifted the lenses. “And it looks like another initiate coming down the main road of the town, headed for the lumber yard. Probably going to switch off or—” A movement at the edge of the town caught her eye, and she shifted the glasses just in time to see a pale-blue figure land on the roof of the outermost building.

“There’s Frost,” she said, lowering the glasses and looking to her right. Hain had already acted, wrapping his talons around the rope loop attached to Alchemy’s harness. Her own loop was lying in front of her, and she wrapped her talons around it before lifting the glasses once more. “As soon as she moves, we go. Ready?” She focused the lenses as she watched Frost’s pale form move across the rooftops.

“Ready,” Hain said.

“To be honest? Kind of.” Alchemy said. “I’ve never actually been the one starting the fight, you know?”

Blade lowered the glasses for a moment and turned, her eyes locking with his. “Don’t worry about it,” she said with a grin. “If worst comes to worse, just remember two things.”

“What?” Alchemy asked.

“One: Every one of these guys we’re about to fight is a total tool,” she said, turning her attention back towards the town. “And two?” She grinned as she stowed her binoculars in her bags. “This is going to be fun.”

* * *

Frost narrowed her eyes as another gap appeared between the rooftops, and she increased her speed, pushing herself forward and over the gap in a single, bounding leap. The opposing roof let out a hollow thump as she landed on it, the cloth wraps around her hooves not nearly enough to muffle the impact of her landing.

It didn’t matter. By the time anyone inside the house came out to look, she would already be gone.

She moved across the town, wind picking at her coat as she headed for the lumberyard on the far side. The cold bit at her body, but she didn’t mind. She’d long since stopped caring about the coolness of the weather. It was just part of life on the Ocean. And besides, her magic kept things cold enough.

There. The lumberyard was only a few houses away now, separated from the town by a low, wooden wall that at her current height did little to prevent her from seeing what lay throughout most of the lot. What she couldn’t see was the stuff nestled right up near the edge she was closest to. Everything else, on the other hoof, was easily visible.

Perfect. She lit her horn, magic coursing through her as she lifted her bow from her back, bent the wood back, and set the string in place. She could already make out the two ponies standing in the middle of the lumber yard, and though she wasn’t close enough to make out the expressions on their faces, she already knew what they would be. The smug, condescending looks of murderers, looking down on everypony else nearby. Eyeing the workers to decide who they could push around, who they could hurt.

Who they could kill.

Today, that decision is mine, she thought, the corner of her mouth lifting up in a faint smile. She slowed her pace. She was only a few buildings away from the edge of the lumberyard now. She needed to be a bit more stealthy, or she’d blow her chance at an early strike.

She crouched, dropping her pale body low against the tiled rooftops, crawling forward with her bow floating right behind her in a soft, purple aura. She had to hand it to Blade. The griffon at least had the intelligence to see that her best position for the mission was doing exactly what she’d told her she was there for: killing cultists.

Still, Barnabas and I could have done this on our own, she thought as she slithered down into a low point between two rooftops, stretching her body across the small gap in-between the structures. The thought bounced in her head for a moment before being discarded, swept away like refuse onto the surface of the ice. No, this is better, she thought as she pulled herself up over the next peak. Almost there. Barnabas gets his money, and you both get to finally give everyone the little push they need to wipe out the cult for good.

The thought made her smile a little more. The end of the cult. Everything she’d ever wanted, to watch Lord Sagis kick and struggle as the life left his body, along with that of every member of his putrid Order. He didn’t even have to endure a painful, long death—she was a hunter, not a sadist. Watching him suffer wasn’t important. Making sure he was dead was. And as long as that happened ...

She was coming up on the last rooftop now. It would be the perfect place to make her stand. She glanced up at the massive backside of the docks, the gargantuan wooden structure towering over her and obscuring her view of the horizon. Somewhere behind her, Barnabas had probably reached the storerooms, raiding the town’s supply for the spare barrels of oil they’d need for the plan. Still, it couldn’t hurt to give him an extra few seconds to get into position. After all, the less time it took him to make his way from the town to the frame of the giant ship being built inside the shipyard, the better.

She gave him two ten-counts, more than enough time to have found what he needed, and then pushed herself up the last rooftop. She reached the peak, her eyes locking on the two initiates standing in the middle of the lumber yard, watching the work that was going on around them. Ponies, diamond dogs, and even a few minotaurs passed by the pair, giving them a wide berth as they lugged stacks of cut planks across the yard. Some of them were being stacked at the far end of the lot, but most of them were being taken right into the docks.

She rose, her magic whipping her bow to her side and pulling back the string even as she focused a second spell. An arrow of pure ice—simple, straightforward, and deadly—formed as she utilized her talent, notching itself in place as it coalesced from the air. It took only a moment to adjust her aim and then she let the arrow fly with a soft twang, sending it streaking across the lot.

The first initiate was dead before he’d even had time to realize what had happened. His head snapped back, the tail end of her arrow protruding from his eye, his body collapsing beneath him. The second let out a yell of surprise, his horn lighting as he turned in her direction and began searching for his unseen assailant. He had just enough time for his eyes to lock on her position before her second arrow caught him in the throat, sending him stumbling backwards. His cry tapered off in a red gurgle as two more arrows caught him in the throat.

She dove to her side, jumping down from her vantage point as a bolt of grey energy cut through the air where she’d stood moments ago, peeling back the roofing tiles and cracking the wood. Too predictable, she thought as she whipped her bow around, letting loose another arrow in the direction the attack had come from. The surprised initiate dove out of the way slightly too late, the arrow catching her in the hind leg and sending her tumbling to the ground. She let out a scream of pain even as she fired another grey beam in Frost’s direction.

Impressive for an initiate, Frost thought as she ducked behind the side of the building, bits of wood flying past her as the initiate’s bolt struck the structure. Most of them lose focus after a hit like that. Maybe they’re getting tougher. She formed another arrow, taking special care with the head to give it a little extra modification, and then notched it to her bow. At least they were still predictable enough that they were going on the attack immediately instead of throwing up barriers.

She ducked her head around the wall only to snatch it back as the initiate fired another blast, a hissing shriek echoing through the air as more of the building was eaten away. Ponies were yelling now, screaming in panic. Barnabas had probably made his move.

She pointed her bow around the corner and fired blindly. There was another shriek as the initiate fired her magic at it—followed by a loud pop as the arrowhead exploded, the enchanted ice breaking apart and sending dozens of razor-sharp shards in all directions. There was a startled yelp from around the corner, then a yell.

“She’s here! The betrayer is h—!” The mare’s yells cut off as Frost sent three rapid shots right into her chest, three red welts spreading across her robes as the arrows punctured her lungs. The mare fell back, her eyes going wide as Frost walked along the side of the building towards her, another arrow already notched in case there was still a little fight left.

But no, she was done. The mare’s grey magic winked out, her body shivering even as the arrow Frost had put in her leg slid free, its head having melted enough that it could no longer hold itself in place. The cold would do the rest of her work now, if her arrows didn’t. Unicorns experiencing shock often had trouble using their magic. But just in case … Frost gave the mare’s head a swift kick as she passed, her hoof connecting with the base of the mare’s horn and eliciting a faint cry of pain. So much for your magic.

“There!” she whipped her bow up, firing on instinct at the shout from further inside the town. Two pirates dove to the side, her quick shot passing above them and then bouncing off of a shimmering blue shield. Inside it were two more unicorns, one with a red band around the base of her horn. The chosen.

“Get her!” the chosen called, her voice echoing down the street over the nearby yells. The initiate, still safe beneath the chosen’s shield, stepped forward and fired, a series of fireballs streaking forth from his horn.

Amateurs, Frost thought, throwing herself to one side as the angry bolts of red-hot flame hissed by overhead. She stayed in motion, readying her next arrow on the move as more fireballs flew at her. Her only options were to dodge or find cover that the pair of cultists couldn’t quickly dismantle. Or go on the offensive.

She fired again, this time adjusting the spell inside her arrow. The senior of the cultists laughed as the projectile cracked harmlessly against the barrier, only for her mirth to cut off abruptly as ice billowed out across the shield from the point of impact, spreading across the surface. There was a frustrated yell from behind the icy wall, and then the barrier burst outward, scattering in all directions as the chosen dropped her shield and pushed the ice away.

Perfect, Frost thought as one of the chunks of ice passed within inches of hitting her. She unloaded three rapid shots, firing as quickly as she could sight and draw. Two of the arrows found their mark in the initiate’s side, sending him stumbling back, while the third took the chosen in the shoulder, twisting her grey robes as it continued onward. The mare fell back, a grimace of pain on her face.

Excellent. She made her way up the street, firing as she walked. Another arrow took the initiate in the chest, knocking him back. A second lodged itself in the chosen’s shoulder, the blue light around her horn winking out as the pain overwhelmed her concentration.

The two pirates rose from the ground, both letting loose wild yells as they rushed at her, makeshift axes held high. She put an arrow into each of their hearts without even breaking her stride, both ponies tumbling to a stop without even reaching her. From overhead came another cry, a shadow moving across the ground, and she twisted, another shot arcing into the sun and punching through the attacking pegasus’s wing. He spiraled out of control, slamming into a nearby roof with a loud bang.

Something flew at her as she turned back, and she jerked her body to one side, wincing as a knife left a long, bloody trail along her flank. She whipped her bow up, deflecting the second knife the chosen had thrown at her and then firing another arrow into the mare’s back. Ice billowed out from it, growing across the unicorn’s back and shoulders and eliciting a curse.

The chosen didn’t give up. As she approached her the mare threw herself forward, ignoring the weight of the ice on her back as she slashed at Frost’s face with another blade, her horn lighting once more.

She didn’t get the chance to strike again. Frost whipped her bow across the mare’s face, snapping her head to one side. The chosen collapsed on the ground, her breath coming in heavy, beleaguered gasps. Frost bent down and grabbed the mare’s horn with her hoof, yanking her head up.

“Were you part of the Purge?” she asked, staring into the chosen’s blue eyes. “Were you in Greyhost?” The mare spat at her, blood mixed with saliva hitting Frost’s cheek with a wet smack.

“It doesn’t matter,” the mare said. “You think you’re making a difference, betrayer, but it doesn’t matter. Soon none of this will. Our king will return, and then—” Her words cut out as Frost yanked an arrow across the mare’s throat.

“Interesting,” Frost said as she rose. Their king … Yells and shouts were still coming from all around her, but most of it seemed to be from the panicked citizenry, thought she could make out a few of the familiar shouts of “Burn!” coming from the Bloodhooves. Over the din she could just make out the distant cry of her brother, shouting for the workers to rally.

She turned and began to gallop down the street towards the shipyard, another arrow forming alongside her bow. The cultists were dead. Now came the second part of her job. It was time to get her ship back.

* * *

“Sun above!” Alchemy yelled as they arced through the air.

“What?” Blade asked, looking down at the dull-orange earth pony hanging suspended between her and Hain. “Afraid of heights?”

“No,” he said, shaking his head, the motion sending tremors up the loop she was clutching in her talons. “Frost just took out all of those cultists.”

“Of course she did,” Hain said. “She’s a very dangerous—and in my opinion, broken—individual. I don’t think she truly enjoys it, but she certainly has nothing against ending the life of anyone in the Order.”

“How come?” Alchemy called.

“Ask her,” Hain said. “Or better yet, ask her brother. He’s less likely to get angry at you over it.”

“But for now stop thinking about it!” Blade said as the shipyard rooftop drew close. “Keep your mind on the mission.” She could see ponies pointing in their direction, though most of them were shielding their eyes with their hooves, since she and Hain were flying with the rising sun at their backs. No one was moving to engage them yet, but soon enough the shock of their brazen maneuver would break. “Dropping in ten. Hain?”

She glanced over in Hain’s direction and saw the old griffon draw his knife. She flexed her own talons, pulling the tip of one claw up next to her own loop. The shipyard roof rushed up at them as they began their descent, just as they’d planned. “Five … four … three … two … one … drop!”

Her talon cut cleanly through the rope, Hain’s knife slicing through his own at the same time, and below them Alchemy dropped, his body twisting and falling the thirty feet down towards the roof as the carefully-made harness came apart.

They were overhead and then past his point of impact before he even hit, but she turned and took a quick look behind her as Alchemy slammed down against the roof, landing on all fours. It was clear that the pirates weren’t expecting anyone to be able to move, much less fight after such a drop, and their cries of surprise split the air as Alchemy dove forward, his hooves lashing out as he attacked.

Good job, kid, she thought as she gave herself a little altitude. Up ahead she could see the pirates around the emplacements reacting to their sudden appearance. Several pegasi were lifting into the air, spreading their wings and taking flight towards her and Hain despite the fact that behind them their own allies were readying what little ranged weaponry they had.

Well, she thought as she tucked her wings close and went into a sharp dive, talons out and wind screaming across her feathers. At least I won’t have to complain that this was too hard.

She changed targets at the last moment, snapping one wing out and adjusting her trajectory, streaking over the already braced and forwardmost pegasus to slam into his rearward compatriot. Her talons lashed out, the long claws cutting through feathers and slicing through skin with equal measure as they collided. The force of the mid-air impact was almost enough to knock the wind out of her. It did knock the wind out of her opponent, and she kicked him away, launching herself towards another surprised looking pirate even as her last target collided with the leader of the group she’d dodged around.

“You guys are really cut-rate,” she said as she brought her elbow down onto her target’s nose. “I mean, you’re not even trying.” She kicked out with her hind leg, catching the pirate right in a particularly vulgar tattoo stitched across his gut. “I mean, if this is the best you can do …” She kicked down, hard, the pegasus dropping from the air and hitting the shipyard roof headfirst with a heavy crack. “You guys might as well give up already!”

A crossbow bolt shot upwards at her, fired by a diamond dog standing near the ballista emplacement. She darted to one side and then tucked her wings tight against her sides, dropping like a stone as several more bolts flew her way. Her muscles burned as she snapped her wings wide once more, launching herself down the walkway like a runaway rocket. One of the ponies who’d fired at her locked eyes with her, his jaw dropping in surprise, and then she barreled over him, transferring her momentum into a crushing body blow that launched him backward and over the edge of the platform. His scream echoed faintly through the air as he fell off the front end of the shipyard.

“All right, boys,” Blade said, rising up on her rear legs and spreading her wings as she gestured with her talons towards the remaining pirates. “Who wants some?”

The diamond dog who had fired at her was the first to act, lifting her weapon and trying to squeeze off one last shot. Blade didn’t give her the time, snapping her wings back and launching herself forward. The crossbow misfired as Blade’s outstretched talons sliced through the string, the bolt ricocheting off of the roof as she slammed the dog’s hand down. Then it was all close quarters fighting, both her front talons lashing out and leaving short, concise trails down the diamond dog’s gem-studded vest.

The dog roared in rage, pushing forward with her own fists and then pulling a knife from somewhere around her belt. Blade stepped back as her eyes caught sight of an oncoming earth pony rushing at her side and swept her right wing around, cutting off the pony’s point of view and making him stumble towards the diamond dog. The dog let out a howl, shoved her ally aside … and Blade took advantage of the distraction to jump forward, both talons coming down full force on the dog’s shoulders, her talons cutting deep into the flesh as her wings and rear legs lashed out again and again. The dog stumbled back, lashing out with her knife even as Blade released her grip and jumped backwards. She felt the knife tear at her side, pain erupting near her midsection. She almost stumbled as she landed on her hind legs, but she couldn’t pause to take a look at her wound. Another pirate was already rushing at her, a nail-encrusted club held tightly in his jaws.

She lifted into the air, flipping backwards and kicking off the pony’s clumsy swing with her hind legs as he passed beneath her. Out of the corner of her eye she spotted Hain, engaged against his own opponents on the other emplacement platform, his knife flashing in the early morning sun as he took on several pirates at once.

She completed her flip, her hind legs resting on the back of the pony with the club, and kicked once more, sending him crashing into the rail. There’s still one more pony, she thought as she moved towards the diamond dog once more. Plus that initiate is around here some—

A burst of fire flared through the air towards her and she ducked, rolling her body and slamming into the wooden platform. The diamond dog let out a howl of agony, and she looked up just in time to see the knife clatter to the ground, forgotten as her opponent frantically batted against the flames that had engulfed her head.

So much for friendly fire concerns, Blade thought as she spotted the initiate stepping around the side of the ballista’s access walkway, his horn glowing a bright green. Great teamwork, guys. She shoved herself up as another burst of flame rocketed towards her, leaving a blackened scorch mark along the wood.

I can’t let her hit the ballista, she thought, ducking around a second blast. She rolled with the dive, taking advantage of the diamond dog’s distraction to swing her elbow into the dog’s scorched temple and dropping her in an unconscious heap. But I need to get close enough to take that initiate out!

The final pirate seemed wary to rush at her after seeing what had happened to his teammate, a fact which suited her just fine. She rolled again as another blast of flame rushed towards her, this one coming close enough to singe her feathers.

She’s getting better, she thought as she dodged again. If I don’t find a way to—aaaiaiiigggh! Her last thought broke free of her beak as the initiate found her mark, the flames sweeping across her body. She slammed into the wooden railing, steam and smoke rising from her body as the pain faded, her head clearing just in time to see a second rush of fire sweep over her, burning at her eyes and feathers. It was gone in and instant, and she let out a gasp as she sucked for air, looking down at her smoking feathers, many of which were charred and burnt. Her entire body felt tender, like she’d sat far too close to a fire for far too long.

This doesn’t make any sense, she thought as she looked down at herself. I felt that heat, I should be far more burnt than this!

There was a chuckle from the ballista, and she looked up at the initiate as he lit his horn once more. “You’re tough, for an inferior species,” he said, a grim smile on his face. “But you’re not a match for magic.” Again the flames swept over her, longer than either of the previous blasts, but something felt … different. They didn’t burn nearly as much as they had before. In fact, they felt almost … soothing. She opened her eyes.

Her jaw dropped. The fire around her was pulling into her body, condensing into narrow points and sucking into her body like water down a drain. And with it, she felt … something, she wasn’t quite sure what it was. A heat, burning within her chest, a relentless energy that was pounding through her body, rushing burning inside of her like a raging storm. The wave of fire from the initiates horn vanished, the unicorn looking down at her with a stunned, almost horrified look.

“I … what … that’s not … you should be ...”

She could feel the fire raging inside of her now, searching for an outlet even as its energy poured through her. She looked up at the stammering initiate, grinning as she tensed her muscles for a leap, the flame echoing through each and every one of them.

“Yeah, you know what?” she asked, her voice freezing the stunned unicorn in his tracks. “I don’t get it either.”

She leapt, her body flying forward as she let out a deafening shriek. She could feel the energy burning through her, shooting free of her chest and making its way down her forelegs, and then her talons were wreathed in fire, flame rippling around them as she descended on the terrified initiate with glee. He let out one final, defiant burst of flame, flame that rolled over her like warm water, and then she was on top of him, her flaming talons lashing out and carving burning wounds into the initiate’s body. He screamed as his robes caught fire, stumbling backwards towards the edge of the platform, and then he was gone, dropping over the side.

For a moment she stood there, looking down at her flaming claws as she felt the energy fade, and then she turned her focus towards the last pirate, who was staring at her with a dumbfounded look of shock on his face. For a moment their eyes met, and then with a scream, he too turned and jumped off the edge of the shipyard.

The last of the burning energy within her vanished, her claws going out, and she let out a laugh of disbelief as she stared at the blackened, scorched marks she’d left in the wood. I have no idea what just happened. She thought as she looked down at her talons. But it was awesome.

A shooting pain in her side reminded her of her injury, and she glanced down to check at it. The diamond dog’s knife had sliced right through her coat, but the cloth had taken the majority of the damage, leaving a thin but painful cauterized line along her side. She wasn’t sure if the cauterization had come from the initiate’s attacks or her own … well, whatever it was.

She glanced over at Hain’s platform just in time to see Alchemy help him make short work of the remaining defender. She gave him a nod as he glanced in her direction, and then she jumped towards the ballista controls, wrapping her talons around the two wheels that rotated and aimed the massive device.

They spun easily, bringing the heavy ballista around as she lined up the targeting sights on the bay. The two pirate frigates were already in motion, sailing towards them as their crews hurried to ready their own weapons. She grinned as she began cranking the wheel that wound back the mighty arm, the creak of wood echoing around her as the ballista readied itself. Below, the frigates were picking up speed. They were counting on being able to get close before her team could do enough damage with the ballistas to stop them.

That was fair. So was she.

The ballista reached its maximum tension with a heavy thump, the reloading mechanism shoving one of the bolts into place as the cord, thicker than her foreleg, vibrated with barely contained energy. She glanced over at Hain and Alchemy’s emplacement. “You ready?”

“Ready!” he called. The wheels spun smoothly as she aligned her target, bringing the crosshairs to rest on the left of the two frigates.

“Fire!”

The crack of the cord shooting by overhead was matched only by the kick of the ballista as the bolt blasted free, tearing through the air like a divine thunderbolt. Down below, pirates screamed as the massive bolt slammed into their rigging, cutting through cloth and cable and sending sailcloth and lines crashing to the deck. The frigate shuddered, twisting above the ice, but then continued onward, coasting forward under its own momentum. Nearby, the second frigate was stuck in the same situation, its sails also damaged by a similar impact.

It wasn’t enough. She wound the ballista back, the gears turning smoothly as another bolt dropped into place. The emplacement shook again as she fired once more, the bolt ripping through rigging and rocking the frigate. There was no way they could turn now, not without sticking boards out along the side of the ship and dragging them along the ice. And now, if Barnabas had done his job …

A dull rumble rolled through the shipyard, the building shaking beneath her as something massive began to move. She jumped free of the ballista’s controls, standing right up against the railing and looking down at the rapidly oncoming frigates with a grin on her face. They were close enough now that there could be chance they could hear her.

“Hey ice suckers!” she called, cupping her talons around her beak as the rumble underfoot grew in intensity. Several of the pirates looked up, close enough now that she could just barely make out the looks of surprise, horror, and shock on their faces as they stared at the shipyard. “This one’s all yours!”

With a titanic crash that shook the entire shipyard, the flaming framework of the dreadnought the pirates had been constructing burst through the shipyard doors, its titanic momentum barely slowed by the flimsy barriers. Panic broke out among the pirate crews as their eyes locked on the massive, burning monstrosity gliding across the ice towards them, ponies and minotaurs running in every direction as the unstoppable, blazing hulk slid straight towards them. Blade couldn’t help but smile in satisfaction as the two frigates, no longer able to adjust their course, sailed directly into the oncoming inferno. The two ships were no match for the leviathan, their hulls splintering as the giant frame ground over them. The sound of screams and shattering wood filled the air, followed by a thunderous boom as one of the frigate’s powder supplies ignited, blasting the ship apart. The second detonated moments later, damaging the lift plates of the larger ship as it did and sending a large chunk of it crashing into the ice.

Down below, in the wake of the massive hulk’s passing, a narrow, dart-like vessel skimmed out over the ice, its sails at half-mast but already sending the lightweight vessel skipping forward at high speed. Blade jumped, spreading her wings as Hain did the same from the other platform, Alchemy riding atop his back as he too glided down towards Frost’s ship.

They landed on the back of the boat as it slid around the burning remains of the pirate force. The sails extended to full as soon as her feet touched the deck, folding outward from the mast like petals around a flower, and the Arrow jerked beneath her as it picked up speed.

A strange rushing sound met her ears, and she turned to see the dockworkers lined up at the edge of the shipyard … cheering.

“Now that feels good,” she said as Hain and Alchemy stepped up alongside her, looking back at the already shrinking shipyard. “We got to kick butt, take out a couple of baddies, blow up a couple of boats, and they’re cheering for us because of it. Not a bad day’s work.”

“Well, also, we freed them,” Hain said. “Plus now they’ll have some defensive weapons in case someone tries to take the place again. Their neutrality is over, but so’s their inability to defend themselves.”

“Yeah,” Blade said as the Arrow picked up speed, moving out of the bay. “All in all, I think that went pretty well. Now all we need to do is pick up what we left on the Manticore, and we can head for Teardrop.”

“Well,” Alchemy said, resting a hoof on her shoulder. “We’ll do that, but right now, before we get there, you need to get that side looked at. And I want you to guzzle another potion.”

“You’re kidding right?” she asked as Hain shook his head and stepped away, heading inside.

“No, I’m totally not,” Alchemy said as he watched Hain leave. Then he paused, waiting until the door to the interior of the ship had shut. “Hain might not have noticed what happened with the fire, Blade, but I did.”

“I don’t know how that happened,” she said, shaking her head.

“Neither do I,” Alchemy said, his expression stern. “But I’m not stopping until I do. The last thing I think you want is for something that good to turn out dangerous.”

For a moment she was tempted to argue, but then she shook her head. “You’re right,” she admitted. “Fine. I’ll take another potion.”

“Good,” Alchemy said, before pausing, a confused look on his face. “Though it’ll have to wait until we get our gear. The only potion I have on me is my own, and that won’t work. We can still look at your side though, so let’s get you—”

“Ship ahoy!”

“What?” Blade looked up at Barnabas as he stuck his head out of the door to the upper level. “Ship?”

“Yeah,” Barnabas said, pointing out at a distant dot on the Ocean. “Hain says it’s an old friend of yours.”

“He—hold on.” She pulled her binoculars free of their casing, ignoring the soot crusted along the top, and held them to her face. There was a familiar looking red figure standing on the prow of the oncoming frigate, one arm in a white plaster cast.

“Well, well, well,” she said as she lowered the binoculars. “Ennuis caught up to us at last.” She glanced upward. “He can’t catch us, can he?”

“Are you kidding?” Barnabas laughed. “They don’t have a chance.”

“Well hang on,” Blade said, grinning as an idea began to form in her mind. “Let’s not leave him eating slipstream just yet. I’ve got this idea …”

* * *

The frigate was almost on them as they finished transferring the last of the gear they’d left behind on the Manticore over to the Arrow. Blade slapped the side and pushed the vessels apart, watching as the Arrow began to glide away.

All right, Ennuis, she thought as she spread her wings and flew up to the Manticore’s bridge. If you want your ship back, you’ll have to catch it. The autopilot was already set, and they’d already pulled the ice-anchor. She slapped the sail release, gears clicking as the ship went to full sail in a matter of moments. Beneath her she could feel it picking up speed as the heavy winds pushed it forward.

“Time to go,” she said, throwing the back door open and spreading her wings. The frigate was almost in range, and she couldn’t help but tease it by getting a little close before darting off towards the Arrow, which was waiting just outside the frigate’s range.

She didn’t have long to wait. It only took Ennuis a matter of moments to realize where his ship was heading. The crunch as it grounded itself against the beach, its hull warping and cracking, was outdone only by the howl of horror that echoed across the groaning ocean ice.

“All right, Frost,” Blade said with a grin as she listened to the distant minotaur’s cursing screams. “Full speed. We’ve got some griffons to talk to.”

That goal still didn’t keep her or Alchemy from standing on the back deck until they could no longer hear Ennuis’s ranting curses. However, within minutes the Arrow left him behind, and Blade let out a relieved sigh as she walked inside and sank down on one of the ship’s couches.

It had been a good day.

Count of Laws Broken: 6
Total Laws Broken: 63
Damage Value (In Bits): 65,793
Total Damage Value (In Bits): 103,209

Chapter 10 - Making Friends

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South of Blacktooth Crater - The Ocean of Endless Ice

Alchemy shook his head again as he stared down at the list of “results” he’d gathered, squeezing his eyes shut and trying not to let out a frustrated groan.

Remember what Eshe would say about empty wells, he thought as he let out a long, slow breath. Each one has a cause. You have to focus on the right part of the problem.

He opened his eyes again as he sat back with a sigh, staring down at the spread of small colored vials taking up the corner of the crate he was using as a table. The problem here is, I don’t even know what all the parts are.

“So …” Blade’s voice cut through his thoughts, her semi-laid back tone enough on its own to almost make him groan. “Are we done here, or what? ‘Cause I’d like to take this stuff off. And also stop peeing in bottles.”

“No,” he said, shaking his head as he turned in her direction. The rust red griffon didn’t exactly look happy with her current predicament, holding a very stiff position with her wings outspread, their span so wide they almost touched the edges of the empty storage room they were in. A series of tiny vials filled with various potions had been hung around her body on a makeshift harness, forming lines that were supposed to react with the potions he’d been having her swallow.

The problem was that it wasn’t working right. Some of the potions were changing color while others weren’t. Which, according to his education, shouldn’t have been possible.

“No,” he said, again, stepping up to her and giving one of the potions a faint tap with his hoof. “Not until I’ve got some idea of what’s going on with your body.”

“We already know what’s going on with it,” Blade said, her wings lowering slightly. “Magic and I aren’t getting along. Now can you hurry it up? I’m missing my workout here. These muscles don’t keep themselves toned, you know,” she said, making her chest twitch. The vials hanging across her body shook, colored fluids inside them sloshing back and forth more than they already were.

“Blade,” he said, rolling his eyes and trying to ignore the roll of her muscle. “Saying ‘magic and you aren’t getting along’ is like telling a doctor that you’ve misplaced your wings. Something’s not right.”

“Fine,” Blade said, tilting her head back and staring up at the ceiling. “So my magic is a little off. So what?”

“Your magic isn’t just off,” Alchemy said, stepping back and looking at the arrangement of vials. The fluids resumed their steady back and forth sweep as Blade’s actions stopped, once again reacting only to the slow but steady rocking of the Arrow. “It’s doing things I’ve never seen anyone’s body do before. What I’m trying to do is get some idea of how with these vials … but that’s not working either.”

“So that’s why I look like a discount Hearth’s Warming tree,” Blade said, giving her wings another little shake in emphasis.

“Yes,” Alchemy said, frowning as he turned his head back towards his potion set. “What they’re supposed to do is react to your body’s magic field, but they’re not even doing that the way they’re supposed to.”

“What if I try to fly?” She shifted her wings, the potion in the vials along her wings switching from clear to light blue. “Now that’s cool,” she said, tilting her head and looking at the color as it vanished. “Why’d it go out?”

“Basically?” he asked. “Because you stopped preparing to fly, and so your body stopped circulating such a surplus of magic energy across your wings.” He let out another sigh and dropped to his hindquarters, flicking his tail across the cool wooden floor. I give up. Eshe herself would be at a loss for figuring this out. Then again, he thought as the memory of his old mentor leapt to mind. She still wouldn’t give up. She’d just try something new until things worked out.

“So … are we done then?”

Blade’s voice pulled him away and he shook his head. “Maybe? I’m not really sure. Honestly, Blade,” he said as he looked at her. “I’m running out of ideas.”

Plus, I need to take another dose of my own potion, he thought as Blade shrugged and began pulling off the harness. It’s getting close to time for more. He could feel the faint weakness beginning in his legs. After that, his breathing would become labored and his insides would start to burn as his internal magic went haywire. His head would start to throb, his ears ringing as his system began to deteriorate. And after that … well, he’d never really gone that far. It was a slow but inevitable death, as sure as if he took too much of the potion at one go. Except doing that led to the opposite. One run-in with that had been all it had taken to convince him never to overdose on the potion again.

He shook his head again, ending with his attention focused on Blade as she peeled the harness off of her body, vials ringing out as they collided with one another. Whatever affliction she had, it was clearly only disrupting the magic flow around the surface of her body, and not in a way that interfered with her body’s natural abilities as his own problem did. Which was … completely unique. As far as he could tell—

The vials on one section of the harness turned blue.

“Wait!” he said, jumping across the floor and pressing his hooves against her shoulders. “Stop moving?”

“Uh, what?” Blade asked, though she complied, holding her body balanced on her hind legs, wings folded back and one forelimb over her head. “This isn’t exactly the easiest position to hold, you know.”

“I know,” he said, fixing his eyes on the part of her shoulder the vials had slid over. “Can you go back a step or two? Like you’ve changed your mind about taking off the harness?”

“Well, yeah,” Blade said. “I guess so.” The harness began to drop back into position once more.

“Slower,” he said, his eyes still fixed on her shoulder. “And … stop right there,” he said as the vials began changing to light blue once more.

“What?” Blade asked, looking down. “Oh.”

“Oh indeed,” Alchemy said as he bent forward to get a closer look, making a mental note of the location of the vials. Then he darted back. “All right, you can take the harness off.”

“Just like that?” she asked, pulling the harness over her head once more.

“Yeah,” he replied, watching as more of the vials flashed blue as they slid across her body. “Just like that.”

“You know,” Blade said as she pulled the last of the vials over her head. “If you’re going to stare like that, at least do a lady a favor and buy her a drink first.”

“Wait, what?” He stumbled back, his head snapping up to see Blade grinning down at him. “That’s not—I wasn’t—”

“Relax, Al,” she said, her grin growing wider. “I’m not much of a lady anyway.”

“Wait, but—of course you—”

Blade let out a long chuckle that echoed through the room. “Nevermind, let’s just go back to the doctor-patient thing. I think it’s a bit easier on you.” She set the collection of vials on the crate and then took a step back, spreading her wings once more. “Whatever you saw, I’m guessing you want my position to be roughly the same?”

“I … I don’t actually know,” he said, reaching for the harness and pulling it across the crate, the vials scraping across the rough wood. Not the best answer. “Actually, for now, yes,” he said, plucking one of the vials free and holding it in his teeth. “Can you work this marker?” he asked, flicking the item in question free of his potion kit and tossing it through the air at her with a twist of his hoof. She caught it without looking.

“Work it for what?” she asked.

“Making marks where I ask you to,” he said, pushing his voice past the vial clamped in his teeth. “Nothing permanent,” he said as she lifted one feathered brow. “It’s medical. Washes right off.”

“Right …” she said. But she nodded, and he stepped forward.

The first thing he did was hold the vial up to her shoulder, right around the area where the vials had began glowing before. He had to bring the tip of the vial closer than he’d expected, but before long the specially treated fluid inside the vial began to change colors, switching from clear to a light, pale, blue.

He moved his head slightly, letting the tip of the vial drift back and forth across the griffon’s shoulder, and watched as the blue began first to recede, and then spread up the vial. He gave her shoulder a few more passes in various directions, noting the way the colors grew and faded, until bringing the vial to a stop where the blue coloration was the most apparent.

“Here,” he said, tapping her side gently with the vial and then pulling his head away. Blade nodded, the tip of the marker making a small ‘X’ over the spot he’d touched.

“So what are we looking at?” Blade asked. He shook his head as he began to run the vial over her side, slightly self-conscious of the fact that his face was so close to her side. He’d barely gone two hoof-widths down her side when he caught the same faint wisp of a color change in the tip of the vial. A moment’s movement later, and he’d narrowed down another spot for her to mark.

“One second,” Blade said, her side pulling away from him as she stepped towards the table. “Find the blue spots, right?” She wrapper her talons around another vial with a faint clink, lifting it free of the harness and then stepping back to the same position. “Fine. But I can handle some of it myself.”

“That’s fine,” he said, giving her a nod. Saves me from having to pry into any delicate areas, he thought as he began moving across her side once more, periodically stopping to have her make another mark. There didn’t seem to be any rhyme or reason to the circular patches of magic he was finding—they were spread across her body almost equally, but not quite, as if they’d simply been painted across her body by a painter flicking his brush.

Whatever’s causing this, it must apply only to the surface and leave her internal magic on its own, he thought as he tapped yet another point with the vial. According to the potions I’ve given her, internally she’s entirely healthy, magic-wise. But whatever this is, it’s altered the way her outer field is working. Which explained why the harness hadn’t shown him anything: he’d had her put on the makeshift bit of rope and then attached the vials where a griffon’s external flow-lines should have been.

He took a step back, satisfied with the dozen or so points he’d found so far. A quick glance at Blade’s own hunt showed that she’d found several more in roughly equal locations on the other side of her body, as well as a few more along each of her forelegs, hind legs, and wings.

“So,” Blade said, looking at the curious collection of blue X’s that were clashing against her coat. “What are we looking at here?”

“We’re looking at areas where your surface magic field is particularly strong,” Alchemy said, dropping his vial into his hoof. “For reasons I don’t quite understand yet.”

“Which means … what?” Blade asked.

“Well, you know how we each have an internal magic field, correct?” He said, waiting as she nodded. “Well, that internal magic field is wholly our own, like blood. Our bodies use it and regulate it as needed. We can even project it, which is what enables your body to fly, for example.”

“I get that,” she said, waving a claw. “And I can still fly. Whatever … this … is, it hasn’t messed that up for me.”

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “What we were supposed to see with that test,” he said, nodding his head toward the harness, “was the natural flow of your body’s outer currents. Each line of vials was along what a standard griffon’s magic flow would look like. Sort of like tracking the path blood takes through your veins, but more like a magnetic field.”

“Ooookay,” came Blade’s reply, her voice slightly less sure of itself than it had been. “And mine’s different.”

“Yes,” he said, nodding as he stepped forward. “For some reason, your body’s natural flow has … shifted. It isn’t to say that you don’t have one, you do, and I would predict that with more experiments, we could find out exactly what the flow looks like and how it still covers the rest of your body, but for now it seems concentrated in these areas.” He held the vial out towards one of the spots on her side and watched as the fluid within shifted to blue once more.

“That’s a pretty nifty potion,” she said.

“Thank you.” He moved the vial to another spot, watching again as the liquid shifted back to clear and then to blue again. “It takes a lot of work to create—it’s why I’ve had you chugging so many potions … and, uh, relieving yourself in a bottle.”

“Peachy.” He could tell by her tone that she was a little less enthused about that one. “I’ll bet that has marketing issues.”

He ignored the jibe as he stepped back. “The problem is now that I know a little bit about what’s happening,” he said, looking up at her. “I still don’t know why or if we should be worried about it. Something adjusted your body’s natural magic field just slightly, and whatever it is seems also to be reacting to exterior magic.” He paused, glancing down at the scabbed over gash along her side. “And your side hasn’t healed yet.”

“Hmm?” She looked down at her side, her beak making a sharp click. “No, it hasn’t,” she said with a shake of her head. “Whatever is was that was making me heal up a little quicker than normal seems to have burned itself out.”

“Huh,” he stepped back again, feeling his legs start to tremble slightly beneath him. He’d need another dose of his potion soon, before his body got any weaker or his breathing started to become harder. “When was the last time you underwent a healing spell?”

“That?” she laughed. “During my last job, so just a few weeks ago, actually. It was right after …” She frowned, the feathers of her brow pressing close together as her eyes narrowed. “Right after … after the battery blew up.”

“Wait, after what?” Blade didn’t respond to his question. Instead she was sitting back, probing at one of the marks with both pairs of talons.

“That’s it!” she said, her head snapping in his direction as her claws stopped. “The battery!”

“What battery?” She was grinning at him now, her wings shifting as her tail flicked back and forth behind her.

“The magic battery,” she said. “My last employers, they … Well, I can’t get into specifics, but they were using crystals as batteries for magic energy. They would absorb ambient energy and then spit it out as needed.”

“I’ve never heard of anything like that,” he admitted.

“Well, it worked,” she said. “And I probably shouldn’t say anymore on that one. The point is, they were a little unstable.”

“I can see why,” he said with a nod. “All that energy—”

“Exactly,” she said, still grinning. “And I had one blow up right near me. Caught a whole side full of little fragments, and my boss?” She tapped at her shoulder again. “She didn’t take most of them out before she healed me!”

“Wait,” he said, trying to catch his brain up with what she’d said. “Are you saying that there are fragments of that … magic battery inside of you?”

“Yes!” she said, tapping her shoulder again with one talon. “They weren’t very deep. You can feel one of them right below that mark you made. And it’s a battery,” she said, puffing her chest up in satisfaction. “It’s designed to absorb and release magic.”

He almost could hear the mental click inside his mind as everything fell into place. “It adapted to your own internal magic field,” he said, sitting back as his thoughts began to race. “And any magic that it comes into contact with that isn’t that, it would push away …” He paused, rubbing a hoof across his chin as his ears folded back tight against his head. “Though that doesn’t explain the—no, maybe it does!”

“Blade,” he said, looking up. “What sort of magic were those batteries designed to use? How did they work?”

She shook her head. “You’re asking the wrong griffon, Al. ‘Ambient’ was the best answer I ever got—”

He shook his head. “No, that makes sense. Think about it. If those fragments of this battery you were talking about still work, then they’re interacting with your body’s natural field, which is why your external field is shaped differently when it’s at rest. The batteries are acting as conduits. But if another spell were to interact with your body …”

She nodded, eyes widening in understanding. “Like a fire spell.”

“Yes,” he said, nodding. “Like a fire spell. The batteries might resist it at first, but once it reached a certain point—”

“—they’d switch over and start sucking it in,” Blade finished. “And then since they’re synced with me—”

“—they’d adapt and dump the magic into your own body as best they could, your body’s own field would accept it and you’d suddenly find yourself able to exude fire magic.”

“Or healing rapidly,” she said, lifting her talons and staring at them with wide eyes. “In other words, I’m magic-proof.”

“Magic resistant,” he corrected. “But we can’t be sure, not without a test …” he closed his eyes, running the theory over in his mind. How can we test something this abstract? he thought. We’d need a unicorn to … Hang on, we have one. He opened his eyes, the plan falling into place as he stepped towards the hatch. “One second. Wait here.”

The Arrow wasn’t the largest ship he’d ever been in by a long shot, but it did make good use of the space. The small storage room that they’d been using for his tests was set near the back of the craft, and he’d been forced to move a number of the boxes into the focsle atop the bunks they’d been sleeping in before they’d had the space to move in. Frost hadn’t been happy about the decision, but she’d approved it provided he put the crates back and he’d stayed out of her own personal cabin, set almost in the middle of the ship.

He darted down the hall that separated the rear room from the focsle, ignoring the locked door that led to Frost’s quarters. She wouldn’t be in it. Instead, he passed into the crew quarters, ignoring the crates he’d been forced to stack atop the beds, and turned to head up the steep stairway on the port side of the ship.

“Frost?” he asked as he stuck his head out onto the Arrow’s main “bridge.” It wasn’t that, really, more of a general gathering area with a galley and a social area, but the ship could be steered from it if one didn’t mind having a lower view.

“She’s up above,” Barnabas said, rapping his knuckles against the ceiling. “Up on the flying bridge. Why? What do ya’ need?”

“We need her for a second,” he said. “To try some magic out.”

“Right.” The massive blue minotaur shifted, pushing away whatever it was he’d been looking at on the table and then walking with a somewhat hunched gait over to the mast that ran right through the middle of the room and into the ceiling above him. A ladder had been set into one side of the mast, with a hatch above it for anypony who wished to climb up to the enclosed flying bridge.

“Frost!” Barnabas called, thumping one fist against the hatch. “I’m coming up!”

“What?”

“I’m coming up,” Barnabas said, pushing the hatch open with one hand and then somehow squeezing his massive shoulders through the small opening. “Al needs you down below for some magic stuff.”

There was a pause as Barnabas’s hooves vanished through the open hatch, followed by a further rumble from the minotaur’s deep voice. “I don’t know, Frost, just go help them out, alright? I’ll keep an eye on things up here.” There was another pause, and then a deep chuckle. “Relax, Frost, I won’t scratch your ship. You know I’m just as good at piloting her as you are.”

“—that to the scratch you left on the lift plates near Buoy Rock,” Frost said as her rear legs swung out over the open hatch. Alchemy lifted an eyebrow as Frost began making her way down the ladder, her long, white tail dangling behind her. Had that been a joke?

He ducked just before Frost’s head came into view as he realized what his staring in her direction could look like. The last thing he wanted was for the aptly-named unicorn to think he was—he shook his head as he moved down the steps, his hooves sliding over the wood. You’re not going to go there. Mention looks to that unicorn and you could end up with that long, pointy horn of hers buried in your throat. It wasn’t much of a stretch after eyeing the destruction she’d unleashed on the pirates in the shipyard.

She’s dangerous, he thought as he made his way back to the rear room, where Blade appeared to be playing with the vials he’d left with a slightly bored look on her face. And hard. What could have made her like that? He definitely wasn’t going to ask her.

“So?” Blade asked, looking up at him as he entered.

“She’s on her way,” he said, his words coming out clipped and short.

“Not too fond of her, are you?” Blade asked quietly, her wings shifting.

“Ah … if you mean that I don’t care—”

“Relax, Alchemy,” Blade said as hoofsteps began echoing down the hallway behind him. “It’s cool. So,” she said, her voice rising in volume so it was clearly audible. “What are we going to do?”

“Well,” Alchemy said as he felt a chill pass by his hindquarters. Frost stepped around him, her head held high, eyeing him like she would look at something stuck to the bottom of her hoof. “Frost, we need you to cast a spell of some kind on Blade—lightly at first!” he warned as the mare’s horn began to glow a light purple. “Something directly at or on her, though. And then you, Blade,” he said, turning towards the griffon. “Hold that vial far enough away from those points that just the very tip of the mixture is—yes, that’s perfect. Thank you.” He glanced in Frost’s direction. “If you would?”

She didn’t say anything, instead choosing to simply nod and light her horn. A faint chill rolled through the room, and Blade pulled her wings tighter around herself, shivering as a spirals of frost began to appear on the floor.

“Don’t move the vial,” he said, cautioning her. “It needs to stay right where it is.” He took a step closer, watching the end of the vial carefully. Nothing had changed yet.

“Increase the effect,” he said without pulling his eyes away.

“I am,” Frost said, her voice almost as cold as the room was becoming. “If it’s not having an effect, then—”

“Wait!” he said, his eyes going wide as the blue began to spread up the base of the vial. “It’s working! Don’t stop!” He could see the blue climbing up the inside of the vial, the potion slowly making the change from clear to blue as Blade’s magic field began to swell.

“Whoa,” Blade said, her wings spreading slightly. “That feels weird. Okay, Frost, you can stop now.”

“What does it feel like?” Alchemy asked as the purple glow vanished from Frost’s horn. The blue inside the vial began to fade as well, draining down towards the tip like something was siphoning the color from it.

“It’s like a … a cold energy.” Blade shook her head. “It’s kind of hard to describe. I can feel it inside my chest—it’s a bit like that feeling you get when you wake up on an icy morning.”

“Can you do anything with it?” He took a step forward, a memory of her burning talons flashing to mind.

“Well … I’m kind of new to this,” Blade said, spreading her wings. “But hang on.”

Her wings swept downward, bringing with them a chill rush of wind that sent a faint shiver running down his back. He glanced over at Frost, but she shook her head. The cold hadn’t been her doing.

“Yeah, I felt that,” Blade said, sitting back on her hindquarters and lifting her talons. A faint frost began to build across them, spreading across the potion vial she was holding and painting a thick film of mist—or was it frost?—across the glass as the potion inside began to freeze.

“Well, cool,” she said, looking up at him. “Magic resistance ... and reuse.”

“Incredible,” he said. “Absolutely amazing.”

“No kidding,” Blade said, grinning. “Kind of explains a lot of the luck I’ve had with magic lately.”

“Well, it’s still only resistance, rather than outright immunity,” he said, shaking his head. “I don’t think you’re immune. Frost here could probably tell you that despite her affinity for ice, somepony else using ice magic could still hurt her.” Frost gave Blade a barely apparent nod. It was better than nothing, at least.

“Every little bit helps,” Blade said, grinning as the last of the ice faded from her talons. “Plus, I can think of some neat ways to make use of this.”

“And you haven’t had any trouble with your own innate magic?” he ventured. “Flying? Weather control?”

She shook her head. “Not that I’ve noticed.”

“Amazing.” He wasn’t sure how else to put it. “The battery fragments react to incoming magic, absorb it, and then feed it into your own magic field. All the while being completely at ease with your own, natural rhythm.”

“Yeah,” Blade said, chuckling. “All that technical stuff. How about simplifying that for me?”

“Basically, if I’m reading what I see right, if somepony attempts to cast a spell on you, they’ll need to work harder to achieve the same level of effect it would achieve on another griffon. In effect, you’re a bit like a minotaur now, except I’d expect there’s a much lower upper limit to how much magic you can actively resist, since your ... enhancement, comes from an artificial source.” He could feel himself talking faster and faster as his mind pushed forth theory after theory. “But to balance that out, unlike a minotaur, which actively resists any and all magic, your body now incorporates it. So, if someone were to use a healing spell on you—like your last employer did—your own body’s natural field would exhibit traces of that spell each time it cycled through the crystals!”

“Which is why I was healing so much faster for the last few weeks,” Blade said, nodding. “Cool.” Her wings lifted as she twisted her body, the red gash the knife at the docks had left her clearly visible against her lightly-tanned coat. “Guess that explains why this didn’t heal over,” she said with a slight shake of her head.

“Still, the application of such a discovery—” he began.

Blade held up a claw. “Easy there, stormrider. We figured it out. That’s good enough for today.”

“But—” He almost choked on his words as she shook her head.

“Nope, universal knowledge and all can wait.” Blade tossed the vial she’d been holding atop the crate with the rest of his equipment. “Unless there’s some other test you want to run that’s directly—and I mean directly—related to figuring this out—one that won’t require another couple of hours,” she clarified as he opened his mouth once more. There was a faint click as he snapped it back shut. “Barring that, I’m done for now. We’ve got a mission to worry about, I need to practice, and now I’ve got something new I’ve got to figure out. So,” she said, one eye narrowing as she fixed it on him like a hawk. “We good?”

“I—” There was no sense to be had pounding his head against a wall. She wasn’t going to consent to anything now that she knew what was going on. “Fine,” he said, slumping back. “No more tests. At least we know what’s going on now.”

“Hey,” Blade said as she stepped across the room, her talons tapping against the wooden deck. “If it makes you feel any better, once this is all over there’s a friend of mine who knows a mare that’d be all over stuff like this. But once this job is done, got it?”

He pulled his last card. “And what if this does turn out to be hazardous? The gems, I mean?”

“What? The battery bits?” she asked, pausing by the exit. “We know what’s causing it now. If something goes wrong, I’ll just cut them out.” She brandished one of her claws for effect, the razor-sharp edge gleaming under the magilights. “Anyway, I’ve got exercise to do.” She turned and moved down the hallway, ducking into the focsle and vanishing from sight.

“Do you still need me?” Frost’s cool voice almost made him jump, his tail twitching with surprise. She’d been so quiet, he’d completely forgotten that she’d been standing behind him. Which means you’re overdue for a potion dose, he thought as he turned to face the long-legged mare. His awareness was slipping.

“No,” he said after a moment’s consideration. “That was it. Just some magic—”

“Good,” Frost said, turning away and trotting towards the hallway. “Tell Barnabas I’m getting some rest.”

“Right, fine. I’ll do—” The door to Frost’s quarters slid shut behind her, and he found himself speaking to an empty room. “That …” he finished lamely. He could feel his thoughts starting to drag now, slowing down, like the chill of the room was freezing the synapses in his brain. It wasn’t that though, he was starting to go through withdrawal.

He stepped over to his potion kit and began collecting the assortment of tiny vials back together, placing them in one of the lower drawers. He could empty the vials out later, unless he thought up another test for Blade to take.

Not likely, he thought as he dropped the last one into place and slid the drawer shut, the vials rolling against one another and producing a melodious ringing. And since it doesn’t seem to be harming her in any way, I doubt she’s going to want to get it tested anytime soon. Unless it reacts badly somehow.

His potion kit rattled as he lifted it, his neck shaking under the heavy weight, and he dropped it back down on the crate with a sigh. I waited too long, he thought with a shake of his head as he lifted the latch over one of the smaller drawers and pulled it open. I need a dose before this gets much worse. He could feel his hind legs trembling beneath him, the shaking growing worse by the second, the strength leaking out of his body like water from a cracked barrel.

Row after row of tiny, thick-walled glass vials stared up at him from the cloth-lined confines of the drawer he’d pulled open, each one sparkling under the magilights. His shaking grew as he reached out with one hoof, gently prying one of the small vials free of its confinement, and he had to close his eyes and focus, willing the hoof to stop its jittery motions. It helped. Somewhat.

The blue fluid contained within the vial seemed to pulse with each shake, a glow from within playing strange patterns across his coat. He stared at it for a moment, watching the glittering color swell and fade in a distant pulse that almost felt more regular than his own breaths. No, it was more regular than his own breathing now.

It was kind of sad, in a way. Here my special talent is alchemy, and now I literally can’t survive without it. He could feel his breathing growing more labored, the motion of his chest growing jerky as his muscles failed in their duties. The burn in his insides was starting now, a low glow of pain that reminded him of the time he’d swallowed fireweed.

But at least alchemy is my special talent, he thought as he popped the rubber cork free from the vial. Otherwise, I’d probably be dead now.

He downed the potion in a single gulp, the magic-infused liquid burning as it poured down his throat. It hit his stomach hard, like someone had punched him, his guts twisting as the potion forced itself into his systems. Then it exploded outwards, a burst of burning energy that swelled through his muscles and limbs like an oncoming wall, pushing away the shaking, the weakened feelings, and replacing them with iron strength. The muggy feeling inside his mind vanished, his thoughts becoming sharp and clear once more. He stared down at the now empty vial, checking to make certain that he’d consumed every single drop of the expensive mixture.

It was done. There wasn’t anything left. A sigh escaped him as he corked the vial once more, dropping it back in a separate drawer he’d set aside just for his own treatments. The drawer with the remaining doses of potion slid shut for another eight or so hours, depending on how much he pushed himself over the rest of the day.

His strength returned once more, he lifted the kit easily, setting it on his back and then making his way down the hallway towards the focsle. It slid into place under his bunk, and he glanced at the crates he’d pulled out of the storage room, deciding to move them later.

Climbing the ladder up the side of the mast was a bit trickier than it looked, though he suspected it was probably easier with his enhanced strength. The wooden hatch rattled as he pounded one hoof against it.

“Barnabas? It’s Alchemy. I—” The hatch flipped back, his hoof catching air for a brief moment he pulled it back. Barnabas was staring down at him, an amused look on his face. “Oh. Hi.”

“Need a hand?” the minotaur asked, holding out a hand.

“No,” he said, shaking his head and pulling himself up through the opening. “Thanks though.”

“No problem,” Barnabas said, leaning back and looking out through the glass once more. “What’s going on?”

The upper bridge was smaller than the combination bridge, galley, and social area that made up the space below it. It was just a bridge, without any of the flair or niceties of the lower cabins. Long, wide, tilted windows made up the majority of the walls, giving the pony—or minotaur—behind the ship’s wheel an almost unobstructed view in all directions, though they were probably the reason the bridge was a bit colder as a result. Barnabas himself was sitting in a swivel chair behind the wheel, a hoof up on the control panel and a bemused look on his face. His horns were just inches shy of the ceiling, and with a start, Alchemy realized that the minotaur wouldn’t be able to stand at his full height at all.

“Yeah, it’s a bit cramped,” he said with a grin, tilting his head back and tapping a finger against the ceiling. “But I’ve got to be honest, before we put the roof on it, it was a lot colder up here. Personally, I’ll take the warmth and relaxation over being able to stand any day. Besides,” he said, laughing as he turned and looked out across the ice. “At least the place is big enough I can stretch my back out if I lay down.” He lifted a massive hand to shade his eyes, as if staring at something off in the distance, and then turned back to look in Alchemy’s direction. “So, what’d ya’ need?”

He shrugged. “Honestly, not much. Frost wanted me to tell you that she’d be resting in her quarters until later.”

Barnabas nodded. “I figured as much when she didn’t come right back here. You guys get everything you need? Or was she being unhelpful again?”

“No, we got what we wanted,” he said, nodding as he bent down to flip the hatch shut. Barnabas’s outstretched hand stopped him.

“Leave it open,” he said, grinning. “It’ll let some warmer air move up here.”

“Right,” Alchemy said, shrugging as he sat down on a nearby locker. “Anyway, she helped, and we figured out what’s going on with Blade.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” he said, shaking his head. “Apparently she got injured on her last job and it left her with some battery crystal fragments lodged in her skin. She wouldn’t tell me much about either, but the prognosis is she’s not dying, she’s entirely fine, and appears to have a little bonus resistance to magic.”

“Huh,” Barnabas said, one eyebrow lifting. “Well, at least we don’t have to worry about our contact dying halfway through this job. The last thing I want to do is do all this work and then find out we’re not getting our share of the payday because our leader died from some lucky shot.”

“You’re not at all surprised by her being magic resistant?” Alchemy asked.

“When you’ve been around the Ocean enough times, you learn to roll with things,” Barnabas said. “I’m no doctor or shipwright; I leave that to the sapients whose job it is. I mean, look at you.”

“Me?”

“Yeah, you,” Barnabas said, a faint laugh rumbling across the room. “You’re a quarter my weight on a good day to look at you, but you can throw someone my size over your shoulders like it’s nothing from what I hear.” He turned his attention back towards the view outside the windows. “Everyone’s got a story, Alchemy. Me, you, Blade, Hain …”

“Even Frost?” The words were out of his mouth before he’d even considered what he was asking, and he held his breath as Barnabas nodded.

“Yeah,” he said at last. “Even my sister.”

Might as well ask. “And what story is that?” he asked, watching the large blue minotaur carefully. If he doesn’t like this question …

“A hard one,” Barnabas said after a moment. The jovial tone normally so prevalent in his voice felt subdued somehow, as if even acknowledging the question hurt.

“I apologize,” Alchemy said, shaking his head and rising from the locker. “I shouldn’t have—”

Barnabas let out an almost barking laugh. “Relax,” he said, leaning over and holding a hand across the open hatch. “If you really want to know, I’ll give you the short version. It’s as much my story to tell as hers.”

“Well, all right,” Alchemy said, settling himself on the locker once more. “I’ve got to admit, I’m a little curious how her name ended up so literal.”

“Literal?” Barnabas shook his head, his horns just barely missing one of the ceiling’s supportive beams. “Frost doesn’t even come close, Al. She should have been named ‘Ice.’ That’d fit. Frost just isn’t cold enough for what she’s become.” He let out a long sigh, his entire body sinking forward.

“Look,” he said, turning towards him once more. “I won’t lie, it’s not a pleasant story. And as you could probably guess, it starts with the cult. Ever heard of the Purge?”

He nodded. “Once or twice. Most ponies don’t like talking about it.”

“I don’t blame them,” Barnabas said. “The Purge was what happened when the Order of the Red Horn started getting really public, making alliances, all that.” He waved his hand. “Anyway, they basically gave the entire Ocean an ultimatum. If you were a unicorn, you joined the cult. Or they … They made your life difficult.”

“And?” Alchemy prompted when Barnabas didn’t say anything for a moment.

“At first it was just the cult acting out,” he said. “I was just a young ‘un at the time. Thirteen and eager to prove myself on the Ocean alongside Aeliana—my older sister. But then they started roughing up ponies who wouldn’t give. Beating them. Torturing them. And then ponies started dying.”

He let out a long sigh. “Frost’s parents were earth ponies. I guess they knew what was coming. According to their neighbors, they were making plans to emigrate to Equestria. They’d kept Frost hidden, worried about what would happen if the cult found out.” His shoulders heaved with a massive shrug. “And of course they did. They stormed the whole town. All of Greyhost. Dragging ponies out on the street, beating up the local security force, setting fire to homes …”

“They killed her parents,” he said, his voice flat. “Murdered them right in front of her while she was hiding in her house. And they would have found her too, except we happened to be nearby—us Cragtooths, I mean—and came in to see what was happening. The cult made it clear we weren’t welcome and we … well …” His hand tightened into a fist, the muscles of his forearm standing out. “We disagreed.”

“After the fighting was over, half the town was dead or burning. Aeliana and I found her crying next to the bodies of her parents after we chased off the cult. With the cult breathing down their necks, nobody in town was too keen on taking a young unicorn filly into their responsibility, so we took her with us.”

“No wonder she’s so distant,” Alchemy said, staring down at the floor. “Losing both her parents like that.”

“Actually, that wasn’t what did it,” Barnabas said with another shake of his head. “She was always cool, don’t get me wrong, but she got over the loss of her parents, or so we thought. She was Aeli and I’s little sister, a part of the family. She was funny, clever, and skilled with magic. Sure, we took her on raids and stuff, but the Cragtooths have never been that rough, especially with Captain Titus in charge.”

“What changed?”

Barnabas’s eyes took on a distant look. “Sagis happened,” he growled. “About six years ago. After he’d started his real push to take the Ocean. Long story short, Sagis killed Aeliana, and after that, Frost just shut down. I don’t know if it brought back memories she’d buried from her parents’ deaths or what, but ever since then, the only thing she’s cared about has been killing each and every last member of the Order. She got cold, she got distant, and she turned herself into a weapon.”

“I’m sorry.” He wasn’t sure what else he could say.

“Hey, stuff happens,” Barnabas said, reaching down and adjusting the ship’s wheel. The Arrow tilted to one side as it made a slow roll around a distant outcropping of ice. “I mean, yeah, it’s terrible. Do I miss Aeliana? Sure I do. But Frost? I miss her a little too. I worry sometimes that it’ll never be enough, you know? That she’s pushing out everything that makes her who she was. Sometimes I still see glimpses of her, you know, when she smiles or something. But those are pretty rare these days.”

“Have you ever tried talking her out of it?”

Barnabas shook his head. “Useless, my friend. I’ve tried. She’s fixated on revenge. The most I can do is work with her, try my best to keep it from eating her up inside, and do what I can to find the little filly I used to know hiding somewhere inside.” He let out a loud sigh. “I can’t give up. She’s my sister. I love her.”

For a moment they were both quiet, the faint groan of the ice and creak of the ship filling the space left by their respective voices. Alchemy shifted his weight, searching his mind for something to say. I don’t even know where to start, he thought. I mean, I’ve known ponies that have died, but—

“How about you?” Barnabas asked. “You got any family?”

“Just back in Equestria,” he said quickly. “Parents. Older sister, older brother.”

Barnabas nodded. “Someday I hope to take Frost there. There isn’t much of a life for her here.” The minotaur frowned.

“So what about you?” Alchemy asked after a minute or two of silence. Barnabas’s ears twitched in surprise, as if he’d forgotten Alchemy was sitting there.

“What about me?” the minotaur said, snorting.

“Where’d you come from? How’d you end up on the ice? Were you born here?”

“Born here?” Barnabas let out a short laugh. “No, I wasn’t born here. I was born in the pits, back in the homelands.”

“So why come here?”

Barnabas fixed an eye on him, his expression curious. “You know much about the minotaur homelands?”

“No,” Alchemy said, shaking his head. “Never been there.”

“Well, that part doesn’t surprise me,” Barnabas said with a laugh as he reached down alongside the helm and pulled out a small collapsible table, follow by a deck of cards. “You know how to play Three-cut?”

“Well enough. Got a hand-holder?”

Barnabas grinning at him as he pulled one of the small, spring-loaded devices out from the same place he’d pulled the cards. “Of course,” he said, passing it over. “My sister’s a pony, remember? No fingers.”

“She’s got magic,” Alchemy said as he set the holder in front of him.

“Hah!” Barnabas shook his head as he flipped the deck into his hands. “No thanks. She’s good enough with her magic as is. There’s a reason professional games don’t allow magic use.”

“She’ll cheat?” Alchemy asked as the cards began to hum in Barnabas’s hands, edges rubbing against one another as he shuffled them.

“To be honest, I don’t know,” Barnabas said, his eyes staring off into the distance, as if the minotaur was deep in thought. “All I know is every time I let her, she usually wins.” He gave the cards a final shuffle and then cut the deck. “So, Three-cut?”

“Three-cut,” Alchemy said as Barnabas began dealing them their hands. “So, how did you and your sister end up on the ice then?”

“It’s a bit of a simple story, driven by a complex heritage,” Barnabas said, picking up a card. “You said you’ve never been to the minotaur homelands, but what do you know about us?”

“Honestly?” Alchemy said as Barnabas discarded. “Pretty much that it exists. You guys do a lot of metalwork and exports. You know, basic stuff.”

“Do you know how our government is set up?”

‘No,” Alchemy said as he drew and eyed his hand. Nothing solid. He tossed a card onto the discard face up. “I know it’s matriarchal, and you guys have tribes, but that’s about it.”

“That’s actually a pretty apt description.” Barnabas grabbed the card Alchemy had tossed on the discard and replaced it with one of his own, a nine of hearts. “Basically, it’s a pretty simple system. There’s about one female born to every four males. Which means that the den mothers—a bit like griffon matriarchs—kind of rule the roost, so to speak.”

“Sexual dimorphism is that high?” Alchemy asked, his hoof halfway towards the draw pile. “One in five is female?”

“It’s higher in some clans,” Barnabas said, shrugging. “We live with it. Anyway, we’re not actually unified. Every tribe has it’s fiercely held boundaries inside what we’d call ‘the nation,’ but we’re not really unified.”

“What about trade deals?” Alchemy asked, picking up a card. A three of diamonds stared up at him. Lucky! He dropped the nine of hearts onto the discard, face down. Barnabas eyed it for a moment before continuing.

“Trade deals are done with the city-states that will be affected,” he said, drawing a card rather than gambling on Alchemy’s bait. “If your deal will effect three city-states, three city-states are who you’ll deal with. If it’ll affect ten, you’ll deal with ten.”

“Sounds unusual.”

“I won’t claim it’s the best,” Barnabas said, tossing a five of spades onto the discard, again face down. “But it works. It has a few drawbacks, though.”

“Like what?” Alchemy asked.

“Like space.” Barnabas shook his head. “There’s a few iron-clad agreements between everyone, but one of them is that no city-state can cover more than a certain amount of territory.”

“Sounds fair.”

“Yeah, well, here’s the problem,” Barnabas said, eyeing the face-down card that Alchemy had tossed on the discard pile. “Once all the land’s been taken up, where do you go? We’re on a peninsula. The Griffon Empire sits on our west, and we’ve got ocean on all the other sides. I’m calling your bluff, by the way.” He tapped the top of the discards with one finger. “Face it.”

Alchemy grinned as he reached out and flipped the card, revealing the three of spades. “Sorry,” he said, pulling two cards from his hand and laying them on the table. The four of diamonds and the five of spades. “No bluff. Pass it.”

Barnabas let out a groan as he slid the three of spades over to Alchemy’s side alongside the two cards and then grabbed the next two from the discard pile, laying them face-down in front of him. “That’ll teach me to try and go for the easy bluff,” he said as he dealt Alchemy two new cards. “Anyway,” he said, drawing and discarding. “When you combine that small space with a nation like that, competition to be the one to take a house and earn a spot as a husband is pretty high.”

“A spot?”

“One to four,” Barnabas said. “Polyandry.”

“Oh.” Alchemy paused for a moment, his hoof on the draw pile. “That’s … I didn’t know that.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Barnabas said, letting out deep, rolling laugh as he looked at down at him. Apparently he hadn’t hidden his confusion as well as he’d thought. “I myself find monogamy a little bizarre as a concept, so fair’s fair, huh kid?” He let out another laugh as Alchemy finished drawing.

“Anyway,” he continued, “with so many males, competition to be a husband is pretty fierce. For that matter, so’s competition to be allowed to be a wife.”

“How do you get approval?” Alchemy asked, discarding another card. Face up this time.

Barnabas took it. “It varies from city to city,” he said. “But most of it is exactly what you’d expect. Prove yourself better than the other alternatives somehow. Move up in station. Prove you’re a good parent. A good fighter. It varies from den mother to den mother, since they call the ultimate shots on who gets to inherit property and voice what the city needs, but the way things are, you’ve got to prove you’re worth a coveted spot.”

Alchemy raised one eyebrow, his ears twitching as the ice let out a particularly loud crack. “It sounds like a setup ripe for confrontation and competition,” he said.

“It is,” Barnabas agreed. “How do you think we invented the cannon? Somebody getting back at somebody else and proving they could take their place by inventing a weapon to wipe them off the map.”

“That almost sounds like anarchy.”

“It almost is anarchy,” Barnabas said, grinning at him. “That’s why a lot of minotaurs these days leave."

“Really?”

“Well,” Barnabas said as he set three cards down—all one color—and then drew two more before discarding. “It’s kind of a dual-reasoned thing. You can settle down somewhere else; though most don’t do that.”

“Why not?”

Barnabas shrugged. “Well, it could have something to do with the fact that we don’t reproduce well outside of our homeland, for whatever reason.”

Alchemy paused, his hoof halfway toward the discard pile. “You don’t?”

“Nope.” Barnabas took a quick look ahead of them, his eyes narrowing as he peered out over the ice and checked for obstacles. “Don’t ask. We don’t know.”

“Fair enough.” Alchemy drew another card, and then laid down four cards in sequential order, though of different suites. Then he drew three new cards and discarded on to the discard pile, top down. Barnabas took it anyway, laying down another set of three like colors. “So what’s the other reason for leaving?”

“Fame and fortune!” Barnabas said, grinning. “What else, eh?”

“That what you and your sister came here for?”

The grin faded a little. “Yeah,” Barnabas said, nodding. “Fame and fortune. She wanted a place as a den mother and wanted to prove she had it in her to get it. I wanted to increase my standing, make something of myself. So we came here.”

“That’s it?” He’d have thought it would have been a bit more complicated than that. “Fame and fortune?”

“That’s it,” Barnabas said, nodding. “And for the record, I don’t blame my society for it. We’re small in number. That’s just the way life is. We have to prove we’re good enough for a spot.”

Alchemy shook his head. It still sounded foreign to him, especially after growing up in Equestria and then living in the Plainslands. Still, if he says it works, then I guess it works.

“I can see you’re not very fond of the idea,” Barnabas said, chuckling as Alchemy grimaced in embarrassment, his cheeks growing hot. “Don’t worry, I’m not offended.”

“And who knows,” he said, shrugging. “I’ve heard reports that our birth rates are starting to slow, that we might be looking at a social upheaval in another few-hundred years. Who knows?” He shrugged again, the tips of his horns just missing the ceiling as he shook his head.

“Anyway,” he said, reaching over and giving the wheel a small twist, the Arrow leaning just to one side as it slide around some obstruction or rough area on the ice. “That’s the basic answer, with explanation attached, for how I came to the Ocean of Endless Ice.”

“Fame and fortune,” Alchemy said. “Sounds like you joined up with the right group.”

“The Cragtooths? I’ll second that,” Barnabas said. “I wanted action, but I’m no speciesist bully either.”

“Isn’t robbing and looting a bit like being a bully as is?” Alchemy asked. He grinned as the minotaur gave him a mock look of hurt.

“It’s not when you call it protection,” he said, dropping a card face down on the discard pile. “And if you’re going to be dropping insults like you’re dropping cards, I’d say the best thing to do would be to start sharing your side of the story.”

“My side?” Alchemy asked, his hoof hovering over the discards. “Well, you already have the basics …”

“Exactly,” Barnbas said, snorting. “The basics. What about the not-so-basic. Why didn’t you just go home to Equestria when you got hurt?”

“I did,” Alchemy said, drawing the card and letting out a sigh of relief when he saw that it was one he could use. “I was there for a few months, but …”

“You didn’t fit in?” Barnabas asked when he didn’t answer.

“That,” Alchemy said, laying down his cards, drawing and then discarding. “That, plus I didn’t like being seen as a science experiment. And the cost of glitter.”

“The cost of glitter?” Barnabas asked. “What’s that have to do with it?”

“It’s a bit of a long-winded explanation,” Alchemy said, grinning as the minotaur began sputtering.

“Long-winded—!”

“Or maybe I could put it better in zebra terms,” Alchemy said. “It’s a patient explanation.”

“Patient?”

“Their word for long and technical.”

“And here I thought you were a super-soldier or a mercenary, not a philosopher,” Barnabas said, laying down another three cards and replacing his hand.

“Wouldn’t a super-soldier count as a mercenary?” Alchemy asked, lifting one eyebrow. “And I’m closer to a scientist. Technically, I’m an alchemist.”

“Bah, semantics!” Barnabas said, waving a hand. “Make with the story already. It’s your turn to talk. What made you come here for glitter?”

“My condition,” Alchemy said, picking up another card. Where to start? “You see, ethereal crystal has reactive properties with magic, so it’s a very high-demand potion catalyst, especially for high-quality potions …”

Barnabas leaned back, intertwining his fingers behind his head as he listened. Outside the windows, the endless expanse of ice slid past as the Arrow continued its journey east.

Count of Laws Broken: 0
Total Laws Broken: 63
Damage Value (In Bits): 0
Total Damage Value (In Bits): 103,209

Chapter 11 - Teardrop

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Just West of the Teardrop Eyrie

“Well,” Blade said as she dropped the binoculars away from her eyes. “They’re coming all right. And they don’t look happy.” She turned towards Frost. “You’re sure these guys haven’t gone isolationist, right?”

“They haven’t,” Frost said, her horn lighting as she plucked the binoculars from Blade’s grip. “They’re not friendly, but last I heard anything about them they were still accepting visitors.” She held the glasses to her own eyes, peering at the distant dots that marred the otherwise clear blue sky. “Looks like they’re giving the ‘stop’ signal rather than the ‘go away’ signal, so they’re at least willing to talk with us.”

“Right,” Blade said, still eyeing the distant airships. Teardrop Eyrie itself wasn’t even in sight yet, buried somewhere past the horizon. “So, do you want me to help bring in the sails?”

“Barnabas will take care of it,” Frost said, shaking her head. “Just focus on getting ready. They’ll want to talk to you first.”

“Because I’m the boss?”

“Because you’re a griffon, and they aren’t fond of Hain.”

Wonderful, Blade thought as she dropped through the open hatch down to the main bridge, flaring her wings out at the last second to catch herself. As if speciesist unicorns weren’t enough. Now we’re getting traces of that with griffons? Griffon pride is one thing, but— She shoved the thought from her head.

First things first. You’re meeting with them. Focus on that.

“Have they made contact yet?” Hain asked. He and Alchemy were seated around the galley table, the long, wooden Bao board between them. From the look on the earth pony’s face, he was ready for just about anything to pull him away from what was definitely a losing game.

She nodded, folding her wings at her side. “They just did. We’ve got four airships heading this way. Frost is going to bring us to a stop.” As she spoke, a familiar clicking sound began echoing through the galley, the deck vibrating underfoot as the Arrow’s sails began retracting. “I figure we’ve got a minute or two before their advance guard gets here.” She stepped up to the table and eyed the game, counting the number of colored pieces on each side. “I hope they’re willing to talk, because if they aren’t, they’re going to have us about as outmatched as your game there.” Alchemy let out a snort.

“What kind of weapons do they have?” Hain asked, reaching out and moving several of the glass pieces, each one letting out a faint, ringing tone as he dropped them into their new positions. Alchemy let out another groan as the final piece came to a ringing stop, his ears laying flat against his mane as Hain reached out and took a selection of pieces from his side.

“I couldn’t see,” Blade said, shaking her head. Outside the windows the horizon was shifting, the Arrow turning as Frost began to slow the ship down. “They had the ships angled to make the profile tough to read, and I’m pretty sure the few shapes I saw were padded.”

“Guess,” Hain said, his eyes still fixed on the board as Alchemy began moving pieces.

“Well, they’re small patrol ships—corvette class or smaller, at least based on the same designs—so they can’t be carrying much.” She sat back, trying to recall the numbers and force estimates that had been pounded into her by her superiors back when she’d been a member of the clan military. “Probably one light gun or a couple of ballistas apiece. Maybe two guns if they’ve really pushed for armaments, stripped out some of the weight from elsewhere.”

“They’ll have two guns,” Hain said, still not looking up. Her ruff rose in annoyance. “They’re short-range defensive patrols. They don’t need to worry about additional weight or being set up for long distance. If they’ve got any brains at all, they’ve traded off their long term fuel and food supply for extra armor, ammunition, or an additional talon.”

“Right,” she said, shutting her beak with a click and forcing her ruff to settle. This is what you hired him for, she reminded herself. Just let him do it. “Frost said they’d probably want to speak with me not because I’m in charge, but because I’m a griffon. There any truth to that?” Her eyes caught the slight hesitation in his talons as he reached out to pick up another set of glass game pieces, and she gave herself a little mental nod. Whatever the reason, there was still some slight truth to it, then.

“Frost is right on both accounts,” he said after a moment, his words punctuated with the click-click-click of piece after glass piece dropping into place on the board. “And before you start worrying that we’re trading one group of speciesists for another, we aren’t. Not entirely anyway.” Alchemy let out another groan as Hain finished his turn, one hoof dropping to the tabletop with a dull thump.

“So what is it then, if it’s not some sort of pro-griffon thing?” Blade asked.

“Survival,” Hain said, his grey feathers shifting as he leaned back. “After the cult took the Pinnacle Eyrie and pushed the griffons back to Teardrop, they’ve worked pretty hard to keep them contained.” His eyes met hers as he looked up. “They keep public pressure on anyone who keeps constant dealings with the griffons as well. In the interest of keeping their own hides intact, they’re a little centralized.”

“Plus,” he said, turning his gaze back down to the board as Alchemy finished his turn. “They’ve still got a bit of a superiority complex from back when the clans were trying to lay claim to this place. They may not have the public support anymore, but a lot of them stuck around and built a life here because they were still sure they could do it. So you’re going to be going up against that.”

She nodded. Barnabas had already mentioned something similar to her earlier, though in that case it had been from the angle of “Why these buzzards won’t want to work with Captain Titus.” Both he and Hain were apparently worried that even with the threat of a unified cult and pirate force having already beat the two separate factions back, neither of them would be willing to work together.

The Arrow shuddered as its ice-anchor made contact, a faint, metallic squeal echoing through the inside of the ship as the vessel came to a somewhat jerky halt, swaying gently from side to side in the remaining breeze. Blade took a quick look out the windows, checking on the approaching airships. They were close enough now she could easily pick out the shape of the armored bodies slung beneath each envelope. Admittedly, none of the three were nearly as impressive or streamlined looking as the last airship she’d been on, but that thing had been one of a kind. Also, it hadn’t had several cannons with which to rain fire at ground or air-based targets.

No, not cannons on that one, she thought as she picked out a box-like structure mounted on the front of one of the airships. Those are rockets.

“They’ve got a missile corvette,” she said, stepping back from the window as a cluster of faint shapes lifted off from the deck of one of the airships, falling into formation and winging their way towards the Arrow. “And it looks like the welcome party’s already on its way.” She caught sight of her reflection in the mirror and grimaced. Half of the feathers on her head were lying at odds with one another, and she could see a number of feathers that needed to be preened on her wing. A quick clean-up then, just so she didn’t look like some freshly-hatched fledgling. “I’m going to clean up. You two meet me on the back deck.”

“Will there be enough space?” Alchemy asked as she moved towards the ship’s small head.

“If there isn’t, then anyone from there group who’s not speaking can just roost on the roof or stay flying,” she said, pausing long enough to give him a quick backwards glance. “This is our—well, Frost’s—ship foremost, and they’re meeting us on our terms. So hurry up and get out there. We’ve only got a minute or two before they’re here.”

She took a moment to freshen up and pick the broken feathers free of her wings, and then made her way out to the back deck, pausing only to grab her insulated coat before stepping out. There was no telling how long their discussion was going to take, or if the welcoming party would want to step inside out of the cold, and since it was a particularly cold day thanks to the clear sky …

She stepped out onto the back deck, cold air rushing past her and making her reflexively adjust her wings. Ancestors’ graves it’s cold out here today, she thought as she slid the door to the deckhouse shut behind her. Either this meeting had better be as short as possible, or I’m going to want some sort of action to keep warm.

“Blade,” Barnabas said, giving her a nod from where he was leaning against the gunwale. Even the normally impassive minotaur was wearing something to combat the chill, though it was a hard call to decide whether it qualified as “warm armor” or “armored clothing.” She settled on the latter as he shifted, revealing the thicker, stiffened cloth across the lower torso. That, and she could see the handle of his double-headed axe protruding over his shoulder.

“Barnabas,” she said with a nod as she walked across the deck. “Should I be wearing armor as well?”

“You don’t have to,” Barnabas said, shrugging as his attention shifted skyward, towards their incoming guests. “In my experience, these guys are pretty martial, so it always helps to impress. A weapon isn’t a bad—” He paused as she held up her long talons, the razor-edged claws glinting beneath the sun. “Never mind,” he said with a chuckle. “Looks like you’re already armed.”

“Every day of my life,” she said as the door to the bridge opened once more, Hain walking out clad only in his combat harness. “Except for when I trimmed them.” She shook her head and scowled.

“You trimmed them?” Barnabas asked, his shoulders shaking as he let out another laugh. “Why in the pits of Nervo did you do that?”

Blade pressed her haunches back against the rear rail of the boat and shaded her eyes with one pair of talons, eyeing the incoming griffons. “I was going incognito,” she said, clicking two of her claws together. “For this job, actually. I kind of left Equestria as a wanted griffon, and between my coat and my talons, I kind of stand out. A little dye, some trimming, and I was able to get on a train to Northgait.”

Barnabas frowned for a moment. Then his eyes widened. “About two weeks ago didn’t some maniac griffon hijack a train and—” His jaw dropped as his hand came up, one finger pointing at her. “You—?”

She nodded, and he threw his head back, letting out a loud, long laugh that echoed across the ice. “You were the one who did that?” he asked between laughs. “You were the one who rammed that train through—”

“She did what now?” Alchemy asked as he stepped out onto the back deck, moving with fluid grace and not even shivering despite the fact that he wasn’t wearing a single stitch. The rear door to the flying bridge slid open, Frost stepping out as well.

“Frost!” Barnabas called as he spotted his sister. “She’s the one!”

“What one?” Frost asked as she climbed down the ladder to the deck, her eyes following Barnabas’s outstretched finger.

“The one who ran the train into Northgait!” Frost’s eyes widened, along with Alchemy and Hain’s, and Blade almost flared out her wings as each of them turned towards her.

“So what?” she said, lifting her talons in a shrug. “It was the best way to get in at the time! My cover was blown.”

Hain was the first to speak over Barnabas’s laughter. “Kit,” he said, his voice slow and carefully measured, like he was considering each and every word before he said it. “The more I hear about exactly how much damage you cause, the more I’m starting to wonder if your plan for the cult originally was just to blow up the Pinnacle and sift through the wreckage.”

‘I—” She snapped her beak shut with a sharp click as Hain started to laugh, his slow, deep-chested chuckles providing a counterpoint to Barnabas’s more dramatic bellows. “I get the job done,” she said at last as both of them continued laughing. Frost was giving her a simple raised eyebrow, the rest of her expression as neutral as ever, while Alchemy just looked like he was in shock.

“And for the record, blowing up the Pinnacle was never an option,” she said, crossing her forelegs. “I don’t know how indestructible the package is, and losing it to the ice would mean not getting paid. Besides, I don’t think there’s enough explosives on the Ocean to—Oh forget it,” she said as Hain and Barnabas began to laugh harder. Even Alchemy was starting to laugh a little, but it was the kind of laughter that said he was doing it only partway because everyone else was, and partly out of sheer, nervous disbelief.

“Yeah, yeah,” she said, shaking her head and looking up at the oncoming griffons. They had to be close enough to hear them now. Maybe that would work in their favor. Make them appear a little more relaxed. “You’ll all be screeching like fledglings when payday hits anyway.”

The incoming talon squad banked to the side, going into a holding pattern some two-hundred feet away and circling the Arrow. Her eyes caught flashes of sunlight reflecting off of the six griffons. Armor then. Probably weapons too. Then again, she hadn’t really expected any different. These were griffons she was dealing with. A clan independent of the Empire, but a clan nonetheless.

“All right, everyone,” she said as the group finished its sweep and arrowed towards the ship, heading straight for the back deck. “Here they come. Let’s shape up.”

Barnabas coughed, clearing his throat, and then straightened, falling in behind her as she turned to face the oncoming talon. The group came to a stop some twenty feet away, holding themselves in the air with quick, heavy wingbeats. Crossbows were gripped loosely in a few talons, held at the ready, and several of the griffons were giving her and Hain—especially Hain—suspicious looks.

“Well, well, well,” the lead griffon said, his attention fixing not on her, but somewhere behind her. She titled her head, following his gaze, and found herself unsurprised that his words were directed at Hain. “Looks like the exile—” The word came out like a sneer. “—has finally decided to take us up on our offer of protection.” One of the griffons behind him let out a scoff. “And he‘s brought someone with him,” he continued, his attention switching in her direction. “You don’t look like you’re from around—”

“I’m not,” she said, letting her voice echo across the ice as she cut him off. “And Hain isn’t here to join your little batch of cowardly recluses, either.” She saw several eyes exchange angry glares at her choice of insult, but she stood her ground, refusing to flinch. “He’s here in my employ. Blade Sunchaser, wandering claw, currently under contract to a non-disclosed entity. My team and I are here with an offer for your patriarch, or matriarch, or whatever it is you guys have right now.”

“Patriarch,” the lead griffon growled. There was a funny cadence to his accent, one that reminded her a bit of the accents most griffons tended to have when switching to Equestrian for the first few years, except this sounded slightly forced, as if it was deliberately being used. “Patriarch Arcwing. The Matriarch Skydancer died defending our home against the cult a few years ago.”

“Arcwing, huh?” she said, ignoring the posturing. Several of the griffons had lifted their crossbows slightly. “Sounds like a relative of mine. Windrunner clan?”

“Maybe.” The leader shifted, moving slightly closer to the side of the Arrow. “But we gave up our clans after they abandoned us and the Ocean. We are all the Icewing clan now.”

“Right …” This is getting nowhere fast. “So, anyway, I’m here to meet with your patriarch.”

“If you wish to join us—”

“We’re not interested in joining your little gated community,” she said, smirking as the angry glares resumed. “We’re here to talk with your Patriarch. Who hopefully has twice the brains you six have between yourselves.” There was an intake of breaths at her last insult, and for a moment she wondered if just maybe she’d pushed it too far. “Considering,” she said, pushing forward, “that the first thing you six did was call out a member of my team and expect him to just fall into line with your rank and file.”

“But you hired him,” one of the griffons said. “And you knew he was an exile?”

“Coming from a band of voluntary exiles, that doesn’t mean much to me,” Blade said. “Now are we going to do this right, or do I need to wait for a more competent talon to come down and take control of this situation?”

She’d done it now. She could see the way several members of the group were lashing their tails, the way they were looking at one another. Whatever their “procedure” was, they’d apparently broken it. And now she’d called them on it.

“We’ll relay your requests to our Captain,” the talon leader said stiffly. “You will remain at anchor on the ice until we inform you otherwise. If you attempt to leave, or if we find any signs that you are part of a hostile action against our eyrie, we will use deadly force and leave your vessel a burning, broken wreck on the ice. Your vessel may be searched as proof of intent.”

“Lovely,” she said, watching as the talon immediately turned and began flying back towards the airships. “They’re a really friendly bunch, aren’t they?”

“Now you see why I didn’t want anything to do with them,” Hain said. “If you ask me, they’re a bunch of impudent wannabes playing dress-up at being a real military force.”

“They’re real enough to have guns,” Frost said to everyone’s surprise. “They might be full of themselves and not exactly professional, but they do constitute one of the few legitimate military powers on the Ocean.”

“Just one that isn’t powerful enough to push back the cult,” Blade said as she watched the six griffons land on the deck of the nearest airship. The vessels were keeping their distance, but she could see the gleaming barrels trained in their direction. The talon leader’s threats hadn’t been idle. “I get the feeling some of their bravado is because they’ve been pushed hard.”

“Well, that, and the cult hasn’t made things easy on them,” Barnabas said. “I’m surprised they haven’t searched the Arrow already.”

A lone griffon lifted off from the deck of the nearest airship, followed by two more who took up flanking positions. Flashes of light were glinting from the sides of each of the airships, and it took Blade only a moment to recognize them as a derivative of the light-signal code she’d trained in as a young fledgling.

Letting the other airships know what’s up, she thought as she watched the three griffons swoop across the ice towards them. And probably ordering them to be at the ready.

The lead griffon this time was wearing less armor than the talon wing that had come down earlier, clad only in lightweight, tight coat and standard-issue leg wrappings. He was smaller than the two griffons at his side, but there was something familiar about his brown-and-black coloration, the short, owl-like beak. Isn’t that—?

“Blade Sunchaser?” the griffon cried, his high-pitched voice echoing across the ice and through her mind. “Pluck my feathers! It is you!”

“Kalos?” Blade asked as the face snapped into sudden clarity, the image of a smaller, chubbier baby griffon leaping to mind. “Kalos Arcrider?” The griffon let out a laughing cry.

“Yes!” he called. “Permission to come aboard, Captain Sunchaser?”

“I’m not the captain,” she called back. “Frost Glimmer’s the captain.” She glanced over at the mare, waiting until she’d given her an almost invisible nod. “And she says you can come aboard.”

“Good,” Kalos said, dropping out of the sky and landing on the deck, his two followers landing beside him a moment later, the boat rocking slightly under their added weight. “I might be captain of an airship, but flying’s always been just as unfun for me as you probably remember it.” He spread his wings wide as he spoke, showing the slight bend to his lame wing.

“Yeah,” Blade said, trying not to let her surprise show on her face. “You’ve lost a lot of weight though; since I’ve seen you last.”

“Which was when?” Barnabas asked, cutting in.

“What, over twenty years ago?” Blade said, looking at Kalos and lifting one eyebrow. “Remember what I said about their patriarch maybe being a relative of mine?” She turned toward the rest of the crew. “I wasn’t entirely joking, and now it looks like I might be right.” She turned one eye in Kalos’s direction. “Am I?”

“Yes,” he said, nodding. “My father is patriarch of the clan. Which makes him—”

“My uncle,” Blade finished. “My father’s sister married him.” She turned back towards Kalos, fanning her wings slightly. “So, not that I’m hoping for nepotism or anything, but I’d like to speak with him.”

“So my talon leader told me,” Kalos said, nodding. “He was pretty upset by your insults. I think he wanted to blow you off the ice without anyone else even speaking to you.’

“Well,” she said, giving him a smirk. “If your forces are that easy to rile up, it’s no wonder you’ve been driven back to Teardrop.”

“Well, had I known you were sheltering the exile on your ship, I would have sent someone other than Mythros,” he replied, his face taking on a slightly more stern expression. “Mythros has a very highly developed sense of honor.”

“Not enough of a one to know when to shut his beak, apparently,” Blade said, shaking her head. “So then, I’m assuming you're his captain?”

“Captain Kalos Arcrider,” he said, nodding. “The patrol boat up there isn’t my typical command, but the Seeker was damaged in battle two weeks ago and won’t be ready for another two days, so I called in a favor.” He gave her a smirk as he stepped forward. “Personally, I think you got lucky,” he said as stretched out one pair of talons. She gave it a quick shake. “I’m willing to give you the benefit of a doubt and listen to you. Technically, our official policy is to turn away vessels that aren’t interested in selling something.”

“Oh, we’re selling something all right,” Blade said with a smirk. “Why don’t you come inside and I can tell you all about it? Then you can decide if you want to relay it back to Teardrop itself.”

Kalos stared at her for a moment before nodding to one of his aides, who pulled out a signal-mirror set and began flashing signals back towards his airship. “I hope you’ll understand that before I can go inside, my aides will need to search your ship for any signs of ambush or untoward intentions? We’ve had a few … incidents, I think, would be the best way to put it. Gifts from the cult.”

“Frost?” Blade asked. The mare seemed to think about it for a moment and then gave her a slight nod.

“I’ll show them around,” she said. “Though if they attempt to damage my ship—”

“I’ll show them around,” Barnabas interrupted, stepping in front of Frost and cutting her off. He gave Kalos a wide grin. “There’s not a lot of trust going around these days, obviously, and my sister is one of the shorter supplies.”

“Fine,” came Frost’s voice before Kalos could say anything. “But they’re not to mess with my quarters.”

“I’ll go with them,” Alchemy said. “They’ll probably want to examine my potion kit.”

“An alchemist?” Kalos said, nodding to his two aides as they glanced at him. The two griffons moved forward, Barnabas opening the door and ushering them inside. “You’ve fallen in with a strange crowd, cousin.” She didn’t fail to notice the way his eyes shifted back towards Hain as he spoke.

“I like ‘em,” she said, giving him a grin as she jerked her head towards the inside of the Arrow. “Now, why don’t you come in and I’ll explain what exactly we need to talk to your patriarch about.”

She had to admit he’d grown in the decades since she’d last seen him. They’d never been close—Kalos had always been a tagalong for her older brother’s group of friends—but she’d remembered him as slightly rotund because of his lame wing and always piping up with inane questions in that high, reedy voice of his. But there was none of that as she laid out their plan for Pinnacle Rock, complete with a very short, quick explanation of her own involvement that left out most of the fine details. Instead, he sat quietly and at attention, digesting every scrap of information she gave him, only occasionally shifting his weight or lashing his tail as a part of her proposal caught him by surprise.

It took her longer to lay out the reasoning and the explanation than she’d expected, long enough that his twin aides arrived from their search of the vessel and took up positions nearby, though neither of them said anything. Kalos himself barely acknowledged their arrival. He was fixed on her words, his talons clicking against the tabletop with a sort of thoughtful tic that she didn’t recall him having when he was younger.

“Interesting,” he said at last when she had finished. “That’s an audacious plan. Taking on an entire cult just to retrieve something for a job?” He flared his wings slightly, shaking his head. “They must be paying you quite a bit if you’re willing to start a war to get your job done. That, or you’re crazier than I remember.”

“Both,” she said, giving him a smirk. The exact details of the job, along with what they were recovering, how much, and from who, had been left out of her account. That wasn’t the clan’s business. “And you know the way. Once a contract is in place …”

“Right,” he said, nodding. “Your honor is at stake.” Again, she didn’t miss the way his gaze shifted toward Hain as he said it.

“Still,” he said, his attention shifting back towards her once more. “What you’ve proposed is … audacious, to say the least. You want the clan to start a war.”

“You’re already at war,” Hain said, his voice cutting through the cabin. The stern looks of both of Kalos’s aides snapped to the old griffon. “A war you’re losing, I might add. Unless that massacre at Pinnacle was something you intended to happen.”

“We held until we could hold no longer,” one of the aides said, her ruff standing on end, wings flaring out. “Something a traitor like yourself—”

“That’s enough.” Kalos’s words silenced the aide. “The exile has a fair point. It’s hard to pretend we’re not at war when we patrol our eyrie night and day and refuse to let ships dock without inspection. When we procure arms and armor in equal quantities. Though I would ask you ...” he said, shifting his attention towards Hain. “Do not bring up what happened at Pinnacle Rock. Hundreds of griffons died honorably there, something an exile like yourself wouldn’t understand.” Hain’s eyes hardened, and Blade gave him a slight but evident shake of her head.

He understands a lot better than you think, she thought as she stared at Kalos. I’ve read the history. I know what he did. He understands that sort of sacrifice far better than you do. Then again, his situation had been even more dire.

“Regardless of the last stand of the Pinnacle Eyrie,” she said, shifting everyone’s attention back in her direction. “The fact of the matter is you’re losing. I’ve seen the maps. You’ve been pushed out of every holding you have except for here and maybe a few smaller trading settlements near The Choke. The Order of the Red Horn is pushing you in on every side.”

“We’ll survive,” Kalos said. “They’re too weak to take Teardrop.”

“For now,” she said, sitting back. “I mentioned we just came from Cedar Shipyards? The Bloodhooves were building another dreadnought-class ship there. As I understand it, they already have one that’s more than a match for your small air-corp. The Order’s probably building airships too, in addition to whatever they already have.”

“They won’t come at us at once,” Kalos said. “Their forces are split. The Behemoth is somewhere in the northwest, harassing Titus and her ilk, along with half of the Bloodhooves’ fleet. The other half is up near Windfall fortress, along with some of the Order’s airships.” He folded his talons over one another, the tips still tapping at the tabletop in a steady, but now slightly quicker, rhythm. “They don’t have the forces to take us on right now.”

“And when the Cragtooths finally fall?” Blade asked, leaning forward and locking eyes with her cousin. “When their fortress finally falls to the ice, crushed, and the only military power left on the Ocean outside that of both the cult and the Bloodhooves is Teardrop? Do you think you’ll be able to hold their combined might off then?”

“We have years until that happens,” Kalos said, though she could hear the uneasy tremor in his voice. “We’ll be built up. Our own exports of glitter—”

“There’s one other thing I forgot to mention,” Blade said, sitting back. “You’re familiar with the figure the cult worships, correct?”

“Their ancient ‘dark lord?’” Kalos asked, his talons ceasing their tapping for a moment. “What of it?”

“Well,” she said, lifting two of her own talons and rubbing them against one another, the long, sharp edges clearly visible to both Kalos and his aides. “Word has it, from our sources, that they might be close to actually finding him.”

“Impossible,” Kalos said with a shake of his head. “Their ‘dark lord’ is a myth. A legend. A corpse of a bygone age, if he ever existed at all. Their ‘Lord Sombra’—”

“So you’ve heard of him,” she said.

“—even if he did exist once, is nothing more than a meaningless dream.” Kalos continued, ignoring her words. “An excuse for their own petty attempts at power grabs.”

“And if he did?”

“He doesn’t,” Kolas said, eyes narrowing.

“Can you prove that?” she asked. Kolas was still for a moment, but then gave his head a slight shake.

“I thought not,” she said. “Personally? What little I know of this cult makes me want to get them taken care of even if this Sombra guy didn’t exist. Which probably isn’t true. Legends start somewhere. Like the mare in the moon, for example.”

“So you want the entire Icewing clan to commit to an alliance with the Cragtooths,” Kalos said.

“Yep.”

“And stage a full offensive on Pinnacle Rock, the headquarters of the Order.”

“Pretty much.”

“Under the assertion that if we don’t we’re going to lose anyway, and we’d better act as soon as possible, or the ancient founder of the cult that they’re always prattling on about might actually come back.”

Blade nodded. “Yeah, that’s about it.”

“All so you can retrieve some package?”

“A job’s a job.”

For a minute or two Kolas didn’t say anything, the faint tapping of his claws competing with the groan of the ice and rolling, oddly enough, in time with the faint rise and fall of the ship. His eyes wandered between her and Hain, and occasionally towards Frost and Barnabas, though usually only for a moment. Finally, when she was just starting to wonder if she should speak up, he opened his beak.

“All right,” he said, standing. “I’ll escort your ship to within sight of Teardrop and inform the patriarch. At the very least, he’ll meet with you. But convincing him …” He shook his head. “I won’t lie, I like the idea of kicking the Order out of the Ocean for good, but you’re essentially asking us to give up our own independence for an alliance. And, unless I’m mistaken, on a plan partially thought up by a traitor.”

He’s not going to let that go, apparently, Blade thought. “But you’ll get us the audience?” she asked.

“No promises,” Kalos said, shaking his head as he stepped for the door. “Follow us in, though, and I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thanks,” she said. “But before you go … There’s one more thing I need you to do.”

“Oh?” he asked, pausing by the doorway. “What’s that?”

“Get something translated for me,” she said, reaching into one of the jacket’s pockets and pulling out a thin tube of parchment. “Some writing. I think it’s ancient griffon.” She passed the tube to one of his aides, who handed it to Kalos. She’d copied what she could make out of the ancient marks.

“You think?” Kalos said. He glanced at the paper. “What’s it worth?”

She shrugged. “Do it as a favor? For family? Come on, it’s just some old text.”

Kalos nodded. “Very well,” he said as he stepped out. “I’ll send it on ahead and see what I can find for you.” Then he was gone, winging his way back towards his ship, his aides behind him.

“So …” Barnabas’s voice was the first to break the silence. “You think they’ll go for it?”

“Come on,” Blade said, giving him a smirk. “They know they’re in trouble. Why wouldn’t they say yes?”

* * *

“No.” Patriarch Arcwing shook his head as he spoke.

“I’m sorry?” Blade pulled back in surprise, and she could see a number of confused expressions on the faces of the griffons around her. Even Kalos looked completely shocked. “No?”

“Yes,” the patriarch said with a slow nod. “No.”

“Why?” Blade asked, stretching the word out with a click of her beak. “You do understand what’s at stake here, don’t you?”

“I do,” her uncle—though she was trying not to think of him as such—said with another nod. “Captain Arcrider made it quite clear in his report. That’s why I’m meeting with you here and now.” He stretched out one long, wide wing gesturing at the broad, wooden deck upon which they were seated. “And why I invited you aboard the Strike of Dawn.”

“To tell me ‘no,’” Blade said, trying to keep her claws from digging into the wooden tabletop. A faint scratching sound told her she wasn’t succeeding. “To waste my time, and my team’s time.” She rose, pushing the low bench she’d been using as a seat back. “All this pomp and circumstance, just to tell us no?” She wasn’t sure she’d ever met her uncle at any point in time, but she was definitely starting to question her aunt’s judgement.

“Indeed.” The patriarch gave her an odd smile, as if he was getting some sort of enjoyment out of watching her reaction.

“Why?”

His eyebrows lifted, the dark blue feathers shifting as he studied her. “Why what?”

“Why don’t you like the plan?” she asked, resisting the urge to leap across the table and wrap her talons around his throat. Maybe slam his head into the table a few times for good measure.

He’s testing you, the small, rational part of her mind said. Just let it slide. The more alive part of her mind just growled.

“Oh, there is nothing to not like about your plan,” he said, shrugging. “In fact, it is a brilliant one. Spotty—shall we say … source?—aside.” She ignored the dig at Hain.

“Yes, good plan,” he said, holding out a single talon. “First, join forces with the Cragtooths. Should not be hard, they’ve asked us before. And logic behind the decision is sound, especially if the cult are truly committed to the build-up claimed—which to that, I see no reason why not.”

“Second.” Another claw rose alongside the first. “Make a joint assault on the Pinnacle, with our airships and few ice ships supporting the Cragtooth’s fleet. Simple. Catch the defensive Bloodhooves’ fleet between two larger forces, grind it into ice dust, then turn on the Pinnacle itself and lay waste to the Order’s stronghold while reclaiming a lost eyrie. Possibly prevent what you explained as the return of the cult’s original founder.”

“Third.” The last claw lifted. “Harass the remaining Bloodhoof forces with sorties, driving them back into their fortress. If possible, wipe them from the map. The Ocean stands free of a scourge that has beset it from the very beginning.”

“Those all sound like pretty good things,” she said, glaring at him. “What’s your problem with it?”

“What, this plan?” he shook his head. “I don’t have a problem with it, aside from maybe question of what happens after that.”

“Then why won’t you help us pull it off?” Blade asked, her teeth almost grinding.

“Simple.” The patriarch lifted a small cup of something potent that had been placed on the table and took a sip. “I’m surprised you have not figured that out for yourself.”

“Enlighten me.” She could feel the wooden table giving way beneath her claws. Someone was going to need to restore the surface.

“Because that is not what you asked,” the patriarch said with a chuckle. “You asked if we would ‘be willing to be part of your team,’ and on that particular point, no, I must disagree. We will, however, help your group, provided we can clear the second hurdle of deciding what to do after all is said and done. But then that isn’t really your problem is it?”

She bit back a scream, her only consolation was that Kalos seemed as caught off-guard by his father’s statement as everyone else. “You could have just said that bit first,” she said, trying to keep the frustration from oozing through her voice.

“And miss a chance to see how you would react?” he said, shaking his head. “Or better yet, those that it is my duty to make this decision for?” He spread his wings wide, looking at the crowd around him. “And I see which way my commanders already lie. Some think this is a bad idea, though I expect again has much to do with the source. But many more …” He leaned back in and nodded. “Those faces agreed.”

“Sir.” It was one of the griffons who had looked pleased at what they thought was a refusal. “Sir, you shouldn’t do this.”

“Really, Captain Durn?” Patriarch Arcwing shifted in his seat, giving the airship captain a long, sideways glance. “And why not?”

“Because … Because …” Blade could see the griffon’s eyes darting between his clan leader and her team, holding just slightly on Hain before jumping back. “Committing ourselves to an alliance with Cragtooths means we are no better than they are. They are pirates, patriarch. We are griffons! We have our honor.” The words became firmer as they spoke, the captain’s chest swelling with pride.

“These ruffians have no honor.” The words were directed right at her, the captain’s eyes staring into her own. “They consort with an honorless exile, allow him to plan their tactics. We will retake Pinnacle Rock, patriarch. But I believe that it is our duty to do so as griffons, and for the glory of the Empire.”

“I see,” Patriarch Arcwing said as the captain gave him a final nod. “Well, then, it’s a good thing that you’re not in my position, isn’t it?”

“Patriarch?”

“We haven’t been a colony of the Empire for decades, Durn.” Arcwing’s voice had lost its humor, dropping into flat, serious tones. “It’s time you accepted that, along with every other griffon who thinks that if we can somehow take control of the Ocean, the Empire will simply throw away all its current political progress and agreements for our benefit.”

“But we’re griffons—” Durn began.

“Even more ridiculous,” Arcwing said. “We are griffons, evet. But we are also denizens of this Ocean of Endless Ice. And it is high time we stopped acting like arrogant yavru kuş and began acting like onurlu savaşçılar. Holding to the Empire that abandoned us and sticking to our own devices has been a losing prospect. Holding to our own has been a losing prospect. Titus has contacted us before on this, and I’ve had my time to think about it. And now, we’re going to do it.”

“You can’t … On the plan of an honorless exile!?” Durn stepped forward from the back, claws rasping against the deck. “We don’t have to agree to this.” Blade noticed that several nearby griffons seemed impressed by the captain’s actions, but they weren’t moving to support him openly.

They agree, Blade thought. But they’re gliding along.

“Careful, Durn,” the patriarch consuled. “You can disagree all you wish, but unless you wish to issue a formal challenge against me, I would advise that you stand up to the griffon honor you’re always speaking about and carry out my commands without complaint.”

“I could issue a formal challenge,” Durn said. “You’re making a mistake.”

“You can,” Arcwing agreed, nodding. “But you would lose. And just to spite you?” He grinned. “I would pick the exile you so detest as your opponent.”

“I could beat him,” Durn said quickly.

“Really?” Arcwing gave a long, sideways glance in Hain’s direction. The older griffon was holding himself perfectly straight, with military precision tight enough it made half the griffons in attendance look untrained. As Durn’s eyes followed his patriarch’s, Hain lifted a single claw and tapped at the sheathed knife on his shoulder.

Arcwing smiled as he turned back. “You forget my age, Durn. You might only know Hain from history, but I knew him from before.”

Durn let out a faint squawk. “Such things are forbidden—”

“In the Empire, Durn,” he said. “In the Empire. Here, I can speak of them all I wish, though I will not, since Hain’s past is his own. That said …” He tilted his head to one side. “I will refuse any challenge you offer, because you would lose, and if Hain drew his knife, you would die. As I am patriarch, your options in that regard are limited.”

“You would lose standing,” Durn said.

“Not as much as you would lose by dying,” the patriarch replied. Blade held back a chuckle. A few members of the audience weren’t nearly as careful with their mirth, most of them Durn’s own supporters. “Keep this up, however, and I may recommend that you be considered for a ... less than vital position than Captain.”

“My—”

“Your opinions are your own to keep, but when they blind you so severely that you’d choose a losing strategy simply because of your pride as a griffon, you’re walking a path I don’t find very different from the Order we’ve been facing for so long. And even they see the importance of allies.”

That seemed to end it. The audience’s attention had turned in the direction of Durn and his backers, and Blade could see the way a few of the griffons were having second thoughts behind their stares. There was a chance they’d possibly cause trouble later, but at the moment ...

“Now, to business,” Arcwing said, turning back in her direction. “How quickly do you plan to move?”

She gave him a grin. “As quickly as possible, sir. That’s kind of up to the Cragtooths.”

“Surprise assault,” the patriarch said with a quick nod. “The sooner the better.”

“And the Cragtooths will be all for it,” Barnabas added from behind her, his low voice rumbling across the deck.

“Iyi.” The Patriarch took another sip of his drink. “Your ship is fast, correct?”She nodded. “Then we will send the Seeker after you and follow with our main fleet in a day or two. Seeker will serve as our liaison and correspondent until our forces arrive.”

“And how long will that take?” she asked.

He shrugged. “To assemble a full fleet, prep the eyrie for our departure, establish a defensive force, and make the journey to a meeting point, without moving so quickly the cult’s scouts catch wind of our objectives? A week and a half, maybe two.”

Well, what are we supposed to do in the meantime, she thought, but didn’t open her beak. They still had to convince the Cragtooths; she wasn’t as positive as Barnabas and Fro— … well, as Barnabas that Captain Titus would be quite so quick to make the same move.

Still, they had the Teardrop Eyrie convinced. “Then we’ll take our leave and communicate with the Seeker as needed,” she said, giving him a respectful bow and rising. “Do you foresee any problems with that?” she asked, letting her eyes slip ever-so-slightly towards Durn.

Patriarch Arcwing smiled. “No,” he said, grinning, and for a moment Blade could see in that predatory yet amused grin why he was the patriarch. “Yok hiç, my friend. None at all.”

He let out a loud laugh that boomed across the deck as he stood as well. “Do not worry, Blade. With the griffon air force claiming the skies, it won’t matter how many forces they have.” He slammed his fist down against the table and let out a loud shriek.

“Two weeks from now, my clan, we reclaim the Pinnacle Eyrie!” A cheer went up from most of the griffons around them, and he turned to give her and her team one last look.

“Good luck,” he said with a grim smile. “We will see you at Pinnacle Rock. This winter will be the last time anyone calls it ‘The Bloody Tip’ again. Or at least, if they do …” He ran a claw down the edge of the table. “It will be for a very different reason.”

Count of Laws Broken: 0
Total Laws Broken: 63
Damage Value (In Bits): 0
Total Damage Value (In Bits): 103,209

Interlude - Two Distantly Related Moments

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Turuncu Desert - Dig Site

“Boss?”

Dusty Tomes let out a sigh as he turned back towards the entrance to his tent. The tan material was still just as drab and dull in color as it had been a few weeks ago—the new grant hadn’t done much to expand their purchasing budget—but it at least was, combined with the slope of the mountain and the hollow the diamond dogs had assembled it in, cooler than it had been a few weeks ago. Though no less dry.

The tent flap flipped open, bright light spilling across the floor and momentarily blinding him. He squinted, narrowing his eyes against the glare even as a large shape moved across it and then into the tent, the flap falling shut behind it.

“Boss?” It was Slate, Coal’s cousin. Coal had left the team a few days ago, for reasons that hadn’t been explained past “some changes in the tribal setup.” Probably just some new leader who wanted to make their powers known or something like that. Still, it wasn’t his place to complain. It was just their culture, like his. He’d have come running if the Princesses had summoned him.

Or would I? he wondered as he held up dusty orange hoof in front of the diamond dog. “Just a second, Slate,” he said as he turned back towards the documents he’d been pouring over. He didn’t have the originals of the manuscripts he was currently studying—those were back in Sheerwater, safe and sound in both the private collections of several griffon clans and the Empire National Museum. But the copies he had were the only copies, so he had to take care of them. Any loss or damage on his part would mean the holding-up of the entire dig while he or Stal went back to Sheerwater to procure another set; a tedious enough experience that he didn’t want to repeat it if possible. Which was why the tent was off limits to lanterns, torches, or candles. Any open flame, really.

Maybe we should see if somepony here could make some extended copies, he thought as he ran his hooves across the paper, trying to smooth out the lines and make sense of them. But that would take someone away from the dig, and we’re short-hooved enough as it is with the loss of Coal, Amber, and Granite. He ran his hoof down the line of broken ancient text, his eyes flicking between it and a nearby line.

Maybe we did misread this, he thought, glancing up at the map of the dig site that was pinned against the wall. Several sections of it had already been marked off, large, black “X” marks crossing their surfaces. But if this is the north side, then maybe we should be digging … there! His eyes locked on the sector two spots up from where they were currently digging. If he and Stal had misread something, and the copy of the ancient diagram was actually meant to be facing the other direction …

That’s a lot of ifs, he thought as he made a mental note of the sector. If we’re reading the changes in terrain right. If we’re translating an ancient, sub-dialect of griffon properly. If we followed the directions on the obelisk properly. If, if, if. He took a step back and stared up at the map. At least we’re not worried about funding any more. The obelisk find was still being discussed between the Canterlot Museum and the Empire National, but both had agreed to extend their dig in pursuit of additional finds. They had another two, maybe three months of not having to produce anything at the current rate before they’d need to justify their expenditures again.

Still, it’d be enough time to search a decent chunk of the massive valley the obelisk had pointed them towards. And when it comes to that … he thought as he stared at the map. Going off of that idea, the next section we search should be grid D-5. It was a bit further north of anywhere they’d searched so far, but it was well within the location the ancient obelisk inscriptions had directed them towards. And the smattering of artifacts they’d found over the last few weeks—though few—could have come from the area.

“All right, Slate,” he said, stepping away from the low wooden table and turning towards the pale grey diamond dog. The origin of her name was pretty obvious, at least to him. “What’d you need?” The look on her face told him everything he needed to know even before she opened her mouth.

“Yer wife wanted me t’ tell you that another—”

“Storm’s moving in,” he finished in time with her words, their voices overlapping. She gave him an apologetic grin.

“Sorry, boss,” she said. “I know it’s bad news.”

“No, no, it’s … It’s alright,” he said, dropping his head as he shook it. “It’s not your fault.” He let out a faint sigh, biting back the irritation rising in the back of his mind. “How far away is it?”

“Stal said we got another three hours before it gets here, boss,” Slate said. “But she did say it’s a big one.”

“They’re all big ones,” he said, tilting his head back and trying not to let out a long groan. We didn’t even get a full day to dig this time, he thought as the groan slipped loose. Slate didn’t even blink. Apparently she’d grown used to his reactions. “I mean, I know we’re near the center of the desert,” he said as he dropped his head back down. “But this is ridiculous.”

“I know, boss,” Slate said as he trotted past her, his hooves kicking up small puffs of sand with each step.

“I mean, we’ve had to leave the metal stacked next to the tents full-time.” He swept the tent flap aside with one hoof, blinking rapidly as the bright light outside made his eyes water. “Some of the workers don’t even bother to take the stuff down anymore.” Sunlight glinted off of the sand-polished metal sheeting as he began walking across the camp, making him squint his eyes shut even further. It was as if the nearby tents wanted to help him prove his point. “We’re getting hit so often they don’t care about the heat.”

“I know, boss,” Slate said again, matching his pace as he moved out of the camp and across the baking, burning sands toward the dig site. She was wearing a pair of tinted sand goggles, similar in design to the ones some of the other diamond dogs wore around the dig. Most diamond dogs had small eyes, but they were sensitive to light—adapted to their underground warrens—and some of the dogs he’d hired preferred the tinted lenses or to wrap their heads in cloth rather than let their eyes painfully adjust to surface living.

“Yeah, I know you know,” he said, shaking his head again as the ground began to slope gently up beneath him. “I‘m just griping about it is all.” Up ahead he could just make out the location of the current dig, a widespread area marked by loose ropes that was set right into the steep edge of the valley end itself. If the ancient city they were looking for had been here—and it looked like it was—and if they’d followed the directions correctly, then logic dictated that based off the admittedly scarce records and general look of the place that it had been built somewhere in this depression. Right at the end of the valley. Nice and defensible, and if it was low enough it would explain why a lot of the records from that era don’t mention it.

“So,” he said, glancing in Slate’s direction. “How’s the digging going?”

“Slow,” Slate said, her lower jaw protruding slightly. “We face th’ same problem you do, boss. The storms. We dig, then we get t’ bury everything we dug a few hours later, only to dig it back up again just a little faster next time.”

“Any interesting finds today?” The sounds of the dig site were closer now. The soft, almost wave-like sound of piles of sand shifting under the concentrated efforts of paws filled the air along with faint clouds of dust, mixing alongside the faint chatter of several diamond dogs, ponies, and griffons as they worked.

“A few,” Slate said. “One or two small stones, little detail. And more bones.”

“Right,” he said, a faint shiver working its way down his spine despite the heat. “More bones.” He’d known beforehoof that they were digging for the Necropolis, the ancient, legendary lost “city of the dead,” but somehow the few bones they’d found scattered about had made the title a bit more … literal.

“Has Age dated them yet?” he asked.

Slate shook her head. “No idea.”

“Right,” he said. That meant the mare probably was working on it over on the other end of the dig site, under the only cover they needed at the moment. Nopony else was working hard enough for them to need to give anypony time off under the lone shade cloths. “Well, thanks for letting me know. See what you can get done before we have to close it all back up.” Slate gave him a quick nod and then bounded off in the direction of the rest of the diggers, her long, almost loping run kicking up sand behind her.

Right, he thought, turning towards the shade cloth on the other side of the dig. It only took a moment to cross the expanse of the dig, several of the workers looking up and offering him quick greetings of various kinds before turning back to their work. Then he was stepping up to the covered inspection area, where a sky-blue unicorn, her dull red mane tied back from her face in a tight ponytail, was pouring over the findings so far for the day.

“Hey, Age,” he said as he trotted up to her. “I heard we found a few things.”

“Hey Professor,” she said, her eyes flicking upward for a second before darting back down the the small stone she was holding in her pinkish magic. “Yeah, as soon as we got back down there, we started finding stuff again.”

“That stone part of it?” he asked, holding out one hoof. She dropped the triangular bit of rock into his hoof and he moved it up close to his face, taking a closer look at the small piece.

It was old, its surface almost worn smooth, but he could still see the details that had made the diggers pick it out from what had probably been dozens of similar finds over the day. Its edges were too regular, too straight to have occurred naturally, especially not with the chisel marks—faint, but there nonetheless—along the one side.

“Yeah,” she said, her horn lighting again as she lifted something else out of one of the plastic bins on the table, something long and thin. “Dating matches up too.”

“Around fifteen-hundred to two-thousand years ago?” he asked as he handed the piece back. She nodded as she took it, setting the next piece in front of him.

“Yep,” she said as he eyed the long, thin piece of bone she’d placed on the table. “Same for this piece.”

“More bone, huh?” He didn’t reach out and touch it. Better to let her handle it with her magic in case it was brittle.

“More bone,” Age said, nodding as she set the triangular piece of stone back in the bin. “This one’s a griffon fibula. Back of the rear leg,” she said when she saw the confused look on his face. “Lower part.”

“Ah.” He still didn’t touch the bone. “Stal have anything to say about it?”

She shook her head. “Nope. Just wanted me to run the usual scans and categorize it like everything else.”

“Right.” His attention shifted in the direction of the empty space where his wife had been working. “I didn’t see her on the dig. Is she off getting lunch?”

“No,” Age said with a flick of her ear. “She wanted a closer look at that storm that’s coming in.”

“Oh, okay.” I wonder why she wanted to go see that? he thought. “About how long ago did she leave?”

“Almost an hour,” Age said, using her magic to sift through various bits and pieces the diggers had delivered to her. “She should be back soon.”

Tomes gave her a nod and stepped over to his wife’s table. Unlike her students, Stal’s table was covered in books and carefully weighted down charts, the former holding down the latter. Small bits and pieces of pottery and stone, recovered from the dig site, were scattered across the table, arranged in faint, unlabeled patterns that only made sense to the trained eye.

Looks like her translation has hit a few walls, he thought as he stepped up to the table and took a look at the finds. A notebook sat nearby, its pages open with a pencil sitting atop it. He took a quick look at the hastily scratched translation attempts.

Nothing concrete, he thought as he looked down at the various scratched out symbols. She’d been attempting to piece together the faded writings on the sides of some of the pieces they’d discovered, but the sand had done a lot of damage. Most of the markings were partially faded or missing almost completely, swept away by the ages and leaving her with little to work with. He could see that there was more than one page of reconstructed possibilities in her notebook.

A rush of air from outside the cover had him turning just in time to see his wife land, a cloud of dust kicking up around her. She emerged from it spitting, shaking her body to clear bits of sand from her feathers, her empty canteen bouncing against her chest, and he grabbed one of the full canteens sitting on the table as he headed over to her.

“Thanks, baby,” she said, cracking him a smile as he handed her the canteen. She unscrewed the top and gulped down a beakful of water, rivulets of the liquid making their way down the side of her face. “It’s hotter than Tartarus out there,” she said as she dropped the canteen away. She took a long breath, then lifted the container once more.

“What were you doing up there?” he asked as she drained the canteen, sinking back on her haunches with a sigh of relief.

“Getting a better look at that storm,” she said as she flashed him a smile. “Age! Any new finds?”

“Not since you left, professor,” Age said without looking up, her horn glowing away as she continued her examinations.

“Just as well,” Stal said, shaking her head and giving him another smile as she began to move towards the table. “I’ve got more than enough on my plate here.” She tapped at her notebook. “You’ve seen this, I’m guessing?”

He nodded. “Yeah. Any luck?”

She shook her head. “Sorry baby. I’ve picked out a few glyphs that I’m pretty sure are correct, but most of it’s just been guesswork so far.”

“So no proof,” he said, his head sinking a little.

“Hey,” she said, running her talons through his mane in a motion that sent a nice shiver running down his back. “Relax. Sure, it’s not the proof we want. But something was here. Anyway,” she said, reaching out and flicking through the pages of her notebook, the pencil bouncing away across the tabletop. “This is why I was looking at the storm.”

It was a map of the valley and the surrounding area, one she’d obviously drawn. And superimposed across it was a series of paths, long dotted lines that curved in faint arcs across the paper.

“You see the pattern?” she asked as she picked up her pen in her talons. “I started last week. It took a few chats with some traders to get some of the more drawn out paths but …”

He frowned as he looked down at the map. Behind them a shout rose up from the dig. Probably one of the undergrads finding another bone. “Are those the paths of the light storms?”

“Yep,” she said, her wings fanning out with pride. “Yep. I got curious as to why we’re getting so many.”

“So you started tracking them.”

She nodded again. “And there’s the pattern,” she said, tapping the map.

“Sun above,” he said as he followed her claw. “You’re sure?”

“I had to extrapolate a few of the paths,” she said. “But it definitely explains why we’re getting one every few hours.”

“Yeah,” he said nodding. The map was clear, almost every storm in the immediate area passed over the valley they were camped in, many of their paths bending in an arc if they didn’t just pass overhead outright. Most of them were slight, true, but it certainly explained why they’d seen so many. “But … why?”

“Why the paths? Or why would anyone build here if it’s always been like this?” she asked.

“Both?”

“I don’t know,” she said, shaking her head. “I was thinking about it on the way back. Maybe the griffons that lived here had a use for the storms?”

“Maybe they wanted to keep away outsiders?” he offered.

She gave him a shrug and looked down at the pottery. “Maybe if I can get these fragments translated, we can get a clue as to why, but until—”

“Boss! Boss!” He and Stal turned at the same time, just in time to see Slate run up to the edge of the cover, panting heavily in the heat. “We found something.”

“Big?” Stal asked. Slate just nodded, her heavy, thick teeth bared in a massive grin that Tomes felt could probably swallow his head whole.

“How big?” he asked. “Can you move it?”

“Only in pieces,” Slate said, turning and waving them towards the dig. “Come on, bosses, you gotta see this!”

“What is it?” he called as they both took off after Slate. “A pot?”

“Bigger, boss!”

“Another obelisk?” Stal called. They moved down onto the dig site. He could see all of the workers clustered around something on the far end of the grid.

“Not quite,” Slate called. “Maybe better!”

Better? He glanced over at Stal, but his wife just shrugged, What could be better than a—? The crowd parted and he got his answer.

“Is that … ?” he asked as a prickling sensation ran across his entire body. For a moment the entire dig was silent, until Stal opened her beak.

“It is,” she said, taking a few steps forward, her eyes wide.

Scattered before them in the upturned dirt were dirty-grey stone bricks, spread and worn, but still sitting somewhat close together in an unmistakable pattern, the gaps between them closing with every inch he moved his gaze east. The diggers had been hard at work, he could see, clearing away massive amounts of sand to expose more of the ruin.

“It’s a road …” he said, his excitement fighting with the shiver that was moving up his back. “Stal, this must be it.”

“Yeah,” she said, her voice strangely forced. “It is.”

“Wha—?” His voice died off as he saw what she’d seen. The second thing that the diggers had found, its form still mostly captured beneath the sand where it was lying next to the just uncovered road.

A skeleton. A complete griffon skeleton, its limbs spread wide, its skull toward them, as if it were standing guard over the road itself. It gave him an eerie, hollow feeling that competed with his excitement. What looked like stone knife was clutched in its talons. Or had been, at one point.

Still, they’d done it. As Stal let out a wild whoop, the rest of the dig site breaking out in cheers, the sense of prickling unease faded. She wrapped her forelimbs around him, hugging him tight against her chest, as the excitement among the workers grew.

This was it. All they had to do was follow the road and they’d find it! The city of the dead!

But for some reason, he couldn’t quite find himself to be quite as excited as everyone else. Maybe it was the storms. Or the way that no one else seemed to remember the place. The way the location made no sense. Or the way the sands seemed to have buried it.

Or maybe, just maybe, it was the faint sense of unease he got looking at the empty skull of the griffon skeleton as it lay there in the sand, its eye sockets staring up at him. Silent and foreboding.

Like an empty tomb …

The Bloody Tip - The Ocean of Endless Ice

The knock on his chamber doors was unexpected, and Subtle Eye jerked his head up, his concentration splitting as the knock came again. His mind shifted, his thoughts and theories on the research he’d been making coming to a complete stop, as surely as if they’d been submerged in a cup of water and then left outside to face the fury of the Ocean’s cold. Meanwhile, the part of his mind that could deal with the intrusion was left free, ready to respond and react. It was all part of who he was, the juggling of the parts of his mind. It was how he was such a wonderful spy. One part of him could remain disabled, or if needed, barely lukewarm, observing and reporting on everything he saw, while the conscious part of him could worry about appearing normal to everypony else.

He was already moving across his quarters when the knock came again, his hoofsteps muffled by the thick, heavy, red carpet. The carpet was new, much like the royally colored wall hangings he’d hung at strategic points around his rooms, and he’d already reprimanded several chosen and initiates for referring to it as wasteful. He was a unicorn, the superior of the pony race. Waste was beneath him.

Besides, it kept the room quieter. Deadened the sound. Except in a few strategic spots, like the entrance, which he’d deliberately kept bereft of coverings. It made every knock, every rap of a hoof against the floor echo through the apartment, making it impossible to miss new guests.

He might have been home, but that didn’t mean he didn’t need to keep his guard up. With the prize he’d brought Lord Sagis, there had been more than one jealous glance aimed in his direction courtesy of an upstart mage. Killings within the Order were frowned upon, but not entirely unheard of.

The knock came again as he reached the door, and he tugged at the handle with his magic. The door swung open to reveal a robe-wrapped unicorn with a red band around the base of her horn. A chosen then.

“Yes?” he asked, not bothering to step up to the doorway. “What is it?”

“A summons, sir,” the chosen said. To her credit, she didn’t stammer. “Lord Sagis wants to meet with you.”

‘Now?”

“Now.”

“Tell him I will be there momentarily.” He closed the door without waiting for a reply, his mind already working to pick out the most important details among the frozen mass of memory that had been his study moments earlier.

Remember the key points, remember what you need. As long as he could pick out the most important details, he could recover the rest.

He closed his books and dimmed the magilights—though he didn’t bother putting them out. No sense in making less work for the initiates. Then he donned his robes, checked to make sure that the three ascending bands on his horn were clearly visible and not marred in any way, and headed for the upper levels of the stronghold.

A unicorn slid out of the background as he trotted down the upper halls, sliding into view in the corner of his eyes and giving him a nod as if to let him know that the only reason he’d seen her was because she’d let him. A shadow. One of the Order’s assassins.

“Subtle Eye,” the mare said, her voice a whisper, but one that didn’t carry down the hallway. She was wrapped in tight-fitting cloth, with a color combination that just seemed to blend into everything at once and urge his eye to slide off of it.

“Shadow.” If any of the assassins had names, only their leader, Tripwire, knew what they were. Unicorns who joined her ranks concealed their identity. And their numbers. Outside of their kind, perhaps only Lord Sagis knew how many of them there actually were. “Working hard?”

“Our business is our own,” the mare said, her voice still soft. He rounded the corner and she followed, sticking just close enough to him that he wasn’t sure he’d be able to get a shield up in time to stop her if she tried something, but not close enough to be outright threatening. “But our business will intersect with yours soon enough.”

He almost stumbled at the soft words. “Wait, what?” he asked, but it was too late. There was a purple flash of not-light, and the mare was gone, teleported away with such skill and precision that he’d barely felt the backwash of residual magic. And he’d been paying attention.

The mare’s words echoed in his mind as he reached the entrance to Lord Sagis’s quarters, as always guarded by two bruins, both of whom gave him looks of barely concealed disdain.

Interesting, he thought as they pulled the doors aside. First the shadow, and now the bruins. What development has occurred that I am not aware of?

“Ah, Subtle Eye.” Lord Sagis’s voice seemed to echo through his chambers, rebounding and building off of the walls to come at him from every direction. It was an illusion, Subtle knew, caused by careful magical amplification of the voice from strategic points, but there was nothing wrong with that. Those who couldn’t fathom it would be impressed by it, and those who could work it out would be reminded of the superiority of those whose gift it was to use magic.

“Lord Sagis,” Subtle said, dropping to one knee in front of Lord Sagis’s desk even though the unicorn wasn’t sitting behind it. “You summoned me.”

“That I did, Subtle,” Lord Sagis said. Subtle rose as the unicorn addressed him, looking up at the leader of the Order. He looked … eager. As if he was a schoolcolt who’d just been told that there was a new toy waiting for him at home. His red coat was immaculately clean beneath his robes, his graying mane straight, but there was a hungry gleam in his eyes, the sort of burning desire that came with a long-sought goal coming into sight.

He didn’t need to ask to know what had occurred. But Lord Sagis was his ruler, so he would.

“Good news, my lord?” he asked, noting as he asked the question that two bags were sitting beside the door to the unicorn’s quarters. Packed and ready to leave.

“Of course,” Lord Sagis said, a thin smile slipping across his face. “I received news from the Vault this morning. The key is nearly charged. We’re nearly ready.”

“That is good news, my lord,” Subtle said, nodding as a shiver slipped through his body. Soon, King Sombra will be at our head once more. “How long do you think it will be until the prison is unsealed?”

“Just under two weeks,” Lord Sagis said. “Which is why I myself, along with the rest of our Order’s finest, will be departing today to the Vault. We will be there to help ready our ruler’s prison, to charge the key and show him the assemblage of our power.”

“What of the … anomalies?” Subtle asked. He hadn’t seen the reports, but he’d heard the rumors. Strange, grey, translucent walls of magic that swept through the Vault complex at regular intervals, tickling at the mind and leaving strange whispers running through the back of one’s head.

“There is a leak, a weakness on our king’s prison,” Lord Sagis said, a pleased smile spreading across his face. “A very weak, very slight one. Even the power of the vaunted sisters—” He said the word with a sneer. “—could not hope to confine him forever. His prison has weakened, the anomalies that have been spoken of have been identified as scanning spells. He is learning our modern language, observing our physiology. Proving that we are worthy bearers of his cause. There is nothing to worry about.”

“Of course,” Subtle said, bowing his head again. The twinge of worry in his gut faded. Why should he worry? This was the prison of King Sombra, the greatest and most powerful unicorn who’d ever lived, a unicorn who had dared try to reclaim the rightful birthright of olden times. Of course he would be working actively to get out of his prison.

Still … there was something odd about—No, we shall not go there. He pushed the thoughts aside as he gave Lord Sagis a smile. They were not relevant. Not at the moment.

“Who all will be attending the unsealing with you, my lord?” he asked. A flutter of excitement moved through his insides. If he was one of the lucky few … The finder of both the key and to be present at King Sombra’s glorious return ...

Lord Sagis smiled again, his horn glowing as the desk began to organize itself. “Mage Rogue Cell will be bringing a few of his … ‘gifts’ … to show King Sombra, of course. Mage Tripwire will be attending as well, with some of her shadows. A few of the other mages who we need to speed the charging of the key. But … not you.”

“My lord?” He didn’t dare look up.

“I have a special task in mind for you, Subtle,” Sagis said, stepping around the table. “Word has it that a pair of griffons are looking for you.”

Adrenaline shot through his body, and it took all of his considerable training to keep his body from reacting. “Griffons, my lord?”

“And they have aligned themselves with two known to our order. Barnabas and that traitor to her kin, Frost.”

Frost. He’d heard of her. And her brother. Though he’d been in Equestria for the last few years, news of the pair had filtered down to him. Frost was one of the few unicorns on the entire Ocean who had rejected the purity and place of her kind.

She was also dangerous.

“They’re stirring up trouble for our erstwhile servants,” Lord Sagis continued. “Apparently they set fire to the Cedar Shipyards in an attempt to drive the Bloodhooves out, or so the cowards tell me.” He set a hoof on Subtle’s shoulder, the faint contact sending a shiver through his body, one comprised of equal parts terror and excitement.

“They are cowards, my lord,” he said, nodding. “They break and run at the first sign of trouble.”

“Yes,” Sagis said. “But they also allowed several of our brothers and sisters who were helping them secure the shipyard die. We need them for now, but once King Sombra awakes, they will learn their place alongside the rest of this world.”

“Still,” he said, pulling his hoof away and executing a sharp turn away. “Frost and her new friends seemed determined to cause trouble. So I want you, Subtle, here. In my stead.”

“Sir?” He could hardly believe what he’d been told, though his memory confirmed it.

“You will be the senior mage while we are seeing to the awakening of our king, Mage Subtle Eye,” Lord Sagis said, throwing one hoof out for emphasis as he spoke. “You’ve proven yourself a capable leader in the past, and you deserve to be rewarded for your efforts in returning our king to his rightful place. Whatever reward King Sombra may seem fit to offer you upon his return, in my absence. I am entrusting you with the care of this keep, and with leadership of the Order’s operations in the western theater.” He turned back towards him, his eyes flashing. “Do you accept this position?”

For a moment his tongue almost stuck inside his jaw, but then his reflexes kicked in. “Of course, Lord Sagis,” he said, bowing low and touching his horn to the ground. “It would be an honor to perform your duties until your return.” Maybe not as much of an honor as seeing King Sombra himself return to the world, but still …

“Excellent.” Lord Sagis fixed him with a smile. “Then your first official act as my stand-in shall be to summon a chosen to carry my bags.”

“You’re departing immediately?” he asked. “With no fanfare?”

“News of our king’s return must be kept silent.” Sagis shrugged. “It’s not my place to give the Ocean any reason to want to run before our king’s horn stabs them through the hearts. So keep things … unriled, if you would. And keep an eye out for that blood-traitor and her new allies. They may not have much power, but they can still be a thorn in our side.”

“I will, my lord.”

“Excellent.” Lord Sagis trotted over to the window, his smile reflecting back off of the polished glass. “Never fear, Subtle Eye. Soon all your worries shall fade, and the Ocean will know the true might of their unicorn superiors.” He tilted his horn back, a twisted, purple glow building around its base. “All hail King Sombra!”

“All hail King Sombra!” Subtle echoed, firing his own salute into the air.

Soon.

Chapter 12 - Cragtooth

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Cragtooth Heights

“You know, it kind of reminds me of the building my last bosses worked in.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” Blade tilted her head back, watching as the massive shape of the Cragtooth fortress slipped by overhead, supported by six gargantuan chains with links larger than the Arrow. Each of the chains was connected to one of the three spires of rock ringing the area like sentinels, two chains per spire. The chains were thick and massive enough that additional supporting structures had been built on the bridge-like crossings between them. The result was something like a minimalist spiderweb, with the fortress hanging at its very heart.

“Who built this place?” she asked, pulling her gaze away from the mass of metal hanging above them and turning back towards Barnabas. The minotaur was leaning against the rear gunwale, occasionally waving towards other pirates as they called out from one of the docks in his direction.

“No one knows,” he said, shrugging. “It was here when the first recorded explorers of the Ocean arrived. Minus the docks and whatnot,” he said, waving his hand towards the mazelike construction of wooden docks and huts around the base of each rocky spire. “Obviously we added in those, and over the years there have been some adjustments to the fortress itself—adding an airship dock, partitioning rooms, that kind of thing—but as far as the original builders?” He gave her a shrug, his body rocking back as he leaned out over the rear of the boat. “No one knows. They were tall, that much is for sure. And they made some nice stuff. You know there isn’t a speck of rust on any one of those chains? or the fortress itself?”

“Really?” she asked, eyeing the metal links as they slid slowly past above them. The giant metal ovals were caked with ice and snow, detritus packed up over who knew how many centuries of exposure to the elements. He was right though, she realized as she eyed the grey chain. Even though the overcast sky wasn’t offering the best light, she couldn’t see a single reddish scar on the flawless metal surface.

“What is it made out of?” she asked.

Barnabas shook his head. “We don’t know. We can’t damage it, either. We’ve taken some pretty impressive bits of metal to it and come away without even a scratch to show for it. Not that we’re that keen on the idea,” he added, his voice dropping in volume just enough that the shouts of general activity from the nearby docks became all the more apparent. “The last thing anyone wants is for one of those chains to break.”

“I’ll bet,” she said, her eyes sliding towards the long shape of the fortress itself, hanging in the air above the ice. “I actually got a chance to see something like that happen once. The Equestrian Railroad Service’s eastern headquarters.” She glanced at him just long enough to see him shake his head slightly.

“Check the news from Equestria sometime,” she said as she looked back up at the massive metal construction hanging several hundred feet above the ice. “They might have pictures of what was left.”

“That was the building you mentioned?” he asked.

She nodded. “Yep. Pretty ostentatious if you ask me. But …” she said, spreading one wing as an itch made itself known. “Pretty cool. Especially when it’s falling down. Dangerous, but cool.” A stray feather caught her eyes, one that looked out of place, and she ran her beak along it, pushing it back into place.

“Huh,” Barnabas said, bending down and picking up one of the Arrow’s tie-lines. “As interesting as that story is, do us all a favor and not mention that to Captain Titus. Or anyone else around here.” The Arrow shuddered, tilting to the side as something cut into its speed. To either side, the side-sails began folding inward, the ship turning and sliding sideways across the ice as the sails retracted.

“Always one for the stylish arrival,” Barnabas said, grinning as the Arrow slid toward the nearby dock. A diamond dog was tapping his foot against the wood, watching as they approached. Barnabas waved to him and then tossed over a rope, its coils slowly unspooling as it flew across the ice and into the waiting diamond dog’s arms.

“Want me to fly up and get the forward lines?” she asked, watching as the dog nocked the rope around one side of a cleat and began pulling in the slack, tugging the rear of the Arrow towards the dock.

Barnabas shook his head. “No need. Frost always brings us in pretty straight. I just like giving the docks something to do. He’ll get the forward line after he ties off that rear one.”

“Pretty slick operation.” She wasn’t exaggerating. Their journey through the center of the stronghold had given her a pretty good view of the other two docks, and the one they were just sliding up to was just as orderly. If not for the obviously tattooed pirates and a bunch of really-slapdash warships, this place could be any other well-organized dock around the world. Crud, throw a bunch of griffon airships in here and it’d be as orderly as a clan airbase.

“Captain Titus has us keep it that way,” Barnabas said, moving towards the door. “She doesn’t leave much room for error these days.”

“No,” Blade said, shaking her head as the Arrow came up against the side of the dock, rocking as it bounced against the buoys that had been tied there. “I saw that when we came in.” Each of the outward faces of the spires had been thoroughly armed, everything from cannons to more advanced guns of some caliber built into the outer face of the rock. “This place could take a decent siege.”

“That’s the idea,” the dock worker called before she could follow Barnabas inside. His fingers were almost a blur as he tied the Arrow off against the dock. “Those Blood’ooves come for a piece of us, they’ll ‘ave to work at it. Nothing they ‘ave is going to put much of a chip in the teeth.”

“Teeth?” she asked as he rose and began loping down the dock towards the front end of the ship.

“Yeah,” the diamond dog said, nodding as he reached out with one long arm and pulled against the side of the ship, tugging the front end towards the dock. “The rock bits. We call ‘em the three teeth.”

She nodded. It was as good a name as any. “What if they get past them?” she asked. “Get under the fortress itself?”

The diamond dog shrugged as he began wrapping the side line around another cleat. “We’ve got plans for that too.” He reached up and took a wet, rounded piece of stone out of the corner of his jaw, eyeing it for a moment before tossing it back in and sucking on it. “Plus, if we can’t put a dent in that fortress, I doubt anyone else will be able to, even if they do ‘ave a bunch of magic users with them.” He gave the line a quick tug and then moved further down the dock, his voice rising as he grew further away. “You a friend of Barnabas then?” he asked.

“Employer,” she called back. “I needed them for a job.”

The dog’s eyebrows rose a bit as he leaned out over the ice and grabbed the bow line. “Barnabas I could understand, but you ‘ired his sister too?” He shook his head as he crouched, tying off the final line with a quick, practiced motion. “You must ‘ave a lot of enemies, miss.”

“A few,” she said as the diamond dog stood.

“Well then,” he said, giving her a quick nod and flexing one tattooed arm. The door into the Arrow’s interior popped open, Barnabas’s massive shape moving behind it. “Welcome to Cragtooth ‘eights. And tell Barnabas I ‘aven’t forgotten about those fifteen reeds ‘e owes me.”

“It was ten reeds, you blaggard!” Barnabas called, waving a fist at the diamond dog as he stepped out onto the back deck. “And even then, I still think you slipped an extra ace into that deck!”

“Interest, Barney,” the diamond dog called, giving them a lazy wave as he began to trundle down the dock. “Don’t be in a ‘urry to pay up on my account!”

“Good-for-nothing rock-eater,” Barnabas growled, though Blade couldn’t sense any real ill-intent behind the words. “I never should have let him deal.”

“He’s good with the cards?” she asked, giving him a small grin as he rolled his eyes.

“Like a six-clawed griffon,” Barnabas said, tilting his head back as a single, small tuft of white drifted past his face. “Looks like we made it just in time,” he said, holding out a hand and catching the small snowflake in his palm even as several more began to follow it. “There’s the snow, just like Frost said.”

“I’ll get my coat,” Blade said, stepping inside the entrance and catching sight of Alchemy and Hain chatting by the galley table. Her coat was hanging by the side door, and she threw it over her shoulders, her wings fighting for only a moment to slide through the slits in the back.”

“You might not need it,” Barnabas said, sticking his head inside the door. “Both the spires and the inside of the fortress are actually pretty warm. The original owners put in some amazing insulation.”

“What is it?” she asked, shucking the coat from her back.

“No idea,” Barnabas admitted with a grin. “Some lightweight stuff we decided we’re better off not touching. We can’t even find it inside the fortress. It’s between the walls, and we can’t cut ‘em.”

The hatchway to the flying bridge opened, Frost dropping down the ladder with adroit swiftness. She took a quick look around at the rest of the group and then moved for the door without a word, not even making eye contact with Blade or Barnabas as she passed by them.

“How long is she going to be annoyed with us over that search?” Blade asked as Frost hopped onto the dock, the Arrow rocking slightly at her departure. The mare had been forced to bring the ship to a stop outside of the base in order for the vessel to be searched by fellow Cragtooths on account of her new passengers, and she hadn’t been happy about it.

“Give her another few minutes,” Barnabas said, “and don’t worry about it too much.” He stepped over the gunwale and onto the dock, the Arrow rocking from side to side as he took his weight off of it. “She always perks up a little around the elevators.”

“Elevators?” Alchemy asked as he joined them on the back deck. “You have elevators?”

“Of course,” Barnabas said, waving for them to join him on the dock. “You don’t think we’d walk up almost a dozen flights of stairs if we didn’t have an alternative, did you?”

“I don’t know,” Hain said. “I’ve got wings.” A look of momentary disappointment flashed across the minotaur’s face, and Blade let out a short laugh.

“Yeah, fine, be that as it may,” Barnabas said, moving up the dock as the white flakes of snow began to grow in number and size. “Even you guys use elevators in that capital city of yours, so don’t feel too superior about the fact that you can fly.”

The dock was laid out in tiers, with the higher levels and more permanent structures, Blade noticed, built closest to the spire itself. Low, wooden walls were built around the higher areas as well, and the stairways between them were placed at right angles or near edges.

“Kind of an odd dock,” Alchemy commented as they moved up another set of stairs. “They could lay this out in a lot more simple pattern.”

“It’s a defensive measure,” she said, her words earning a nod of affirmation from both Hain and Barnabas. “The raised elevation grants a strategic advantage to the defensive force, and the layout of the stairs makes it hard for an attacking force to maneuver to their advantage.”

“Oh,” Alchemy said. “I guess that makes sense.”

“The low walls are part of that too,” she said, brushing her wing across one as they passed by. “Stuff for sapients to hide behind in a ranged battle.”

“How’d you guys pay for all this?” Alchemy asked, directing his question towards Barnabas.

“What do you mean?”

“The wood, your ships,” Alchemy said. “Where’d you get the funding for them?”

Barnabas shrugged, snow swirling in the wake of his dark-blue shoulders. “Here and there. Some of it we did ourselves. Some of it we paid for with piracy—taking glitter shipments and whatnot. That was a long time ago,” he said as Alchemy shot him a dirty look. “Though I won’t lie, we still go around and collect every so often, but it’s more of a safety tax than anything. We’re not exactly the pirates we once were.”

“No.” Frost said from where she was standing by a pair of heavy, stone doors. “We’re not.”

“Do you think you should be?” Alchemy asked as she rapped a hoof against a metal panel set in the stone next to the doors. There was a heavy thump that shook the dock, and the doors began to roll open, sliding forward slightly at first, Blade noticed, and then opening outward. A wall of noise, louder than the general hubbub of the docks, swept over them as the doors opened further.

I wonder what operates those things? Blade thought, eyeing the mechanical arms that were pushing the doors open at the hinge. And what powers them? She glanced over at Barnabas, but decided the answer would probably be along the lines of “No one knows.”

“I …” Frost seemed to be struggling with an answer to Alchemy’s question, her face twisting slightly as if she couldn’t make up her mind on which expression she wanted to show. “Maybe if it meant we killed more cult members,” she said, settling on anger as she stepped inside, snow swirling after her. Had they not already been in the cold, Blade would have expected to see mist steaming up from the mare’s shoulders.

“If there weren’t any cult members fouling the situation, things would largely be the same,” Barnabas said, picking up the slack in the conversation as they moved into the interior of the spire. “Titus is big on change.” The floor underfoot shifted from stone to wood as the ceiling—already high—pulled away, opening up into a massive cavernous space that was crisscrossed with walkways and stacked high with crates.

“Sorry about the mess,” Barnabas said with a laugh as he stepped over a loose pile of rope. “Looks like Captain Titus’s stockpiling has spread down to this level.”

“How many levels are there?” Hain asked.

“Fourteen, five below us, eight above,” came the reply. “All about this tall. The whole place is almost three hundred feet at the tip. Same for the other two. And all of them mostly hollowed out like this one was.”

“Doesn’t that make them a little unstable?” Blade asked as they moved past a group of pirates who were opening up crates and checking their contents off against a checklist. One of them looked up and waved a friendly hoof at Barnabas, who returned it.

“Not that we can tell,” he said, giving another pirate a wave. “They were like that when the first explorers found them. All these rooms and spaces have been added in over the years.” Up ahead there was a cry of high pitched laughter, and Barnabas smiled. “It’s a lot of living space if you want it.”

Something white and round flew through the air, and Blade threw her wings out, adrenaline flooding through her body even as the object broke apart across Barnabas’s face, eliciting a yell of surprise. The high-pitched laughter that had echoed across the space intensified, and Blade folded her wings back with an embarrassed grin, her cheeks burning as Barnabas dove forward, digging back behind a pile of barrels.

“Little high-strung there, aren’t you?” Her cheeks burned harder at Hain’s words.

“Sorry,” she said as Barnabas straightened with a triumphant yell, a loud and kicking but obviously overjoyed butter-yellow colt clutched in one hand. “Just a … yeah …” Smooth, Featherbrain.

“Well,” Barnabas was saying as he held the kicking colt upside down in front of his face. “What have we here. A little assassin, huh?” The colt giggled and shrieked with glee as Barnabas’s gaze drifted behind the barrel once more. “Oh ho!” Another shriek of laughter rang out, followed by a second snowball that fell far short of hitting the minotaur.

“Ah hah!” Barnabas said, reaching down and plucking another giggling colt out from behind the barrels, lifting him into the air by his hind leg. The new arrival let out a loud laugh as Barnabas tossed him into the air and caught him by his front, eliciting another shriek of laughter.

“All right you two ruffians,” Barnabas said. “I caught you.”

“You caught two of us,” one of the colts said through his laughter.

“You’re right!” Barnabas said in what sounded like mock surprise as he peered behind the barrels again. “Where’s that little pegasus fillyfriend of yours?”

“She’s—She’s not my fillyfriend,” the colt said between laughs. “And she’s above you?”

“Wha—?” Barnabas looked up just in time for a third snowball, this one much larger than the others, to hit him right in the muzzle, the soft snow breaking across his face and leaving it momentarily covered.

“Yahoo!” came a cry from up above, and a young moss-green pegasus filly dropped down from one of the beams, a massive grin on her face.

“Hain,” Barnabas said, snow shifting and falling from his face as he spoke. “Or Blade. Anyone, really? Would you mind grabbing that kid?”

“On it.” Alchemy had launched himself upward before Blade had even finished spreading her wings, the filly letting out a surprised shriek as the earth pony plucked her from the air, managing a single forward flip before he landed balanced on his two rear hooves, the filly held carefully in front of him. She stared at him for a moment with wild eyes, and then her wings flared out.

“Again! Again!” she called, her wings flapping frantically, but not enough to break free of the earth pony’s grip.

“All right, you little miscreants,” Barnabas said, his expression taking on a facade of mock sternness made all the more ridiculous by the snow still covering parts of his face. “Where’d you get the snow?”

“From Frost!” one of the colts said, laughing. “She said you were coming!”

Barnabas shook his head, more snow spilling away from his face in damp clumps and scattering across his vest. “I guess she’s either in a worse mood than I thought, or a better one.”

“From snowballs?” Alchemy said, his body twisting left and then right as he kept his grip on the energetic pegasus filly.

“My sis is a bit of an enigma,” Barnabas replied, crouching and setting both colts on the ground. “Alright, you three,” he said, resting one elbow on his knee and fixing them all with a stare. “You know the drill. You’re not supposed to be down on this level while everyone’s working. So either go play on the docks or go back up to the residence levels.”

For a moment one of the colts look disappointed, but then his face lit up. “Docks!” he said with an excited grin. “Come on!” Alchemy let go of the pegasus filly and she whizzed through the air after the two running colts.

“Huh,” Barnabas said as he rose. “That was actually easier than—Hey! You three stay off of our boat!” Laughter echoed back at him as he turned and resumed moving down towards the other end of the space.

“Nice,” Blade said, grinning at him. “That makes me think though. Is it just me, or is this the first place I’ve seen kids?”

“It’s not just you,” Alchemy said. “There are children in Ruffian’s Wharf, or on Ender’s Isle too, I’d expect …” He paused and looked to Barnabas, who nodded. “But they’re kept inside. Hidden. No parent wants to run the risk of the cult or the Bloodhooves messing with them, especially if they start checking for unicorn foals.”

One more reason it won’t hurt to take that group down while I get this mission done, Blade thought.

They rounded another stack of crates to find Frost waiting for them in a large, wooden elevator. Several more doors nearby showed that there were at least three others like the one she was in. “About time,” she said as they stepped in. “I was about to start making this thing go up on my own.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Barnabas said as he crouched and grabbed a handle near the floor. A swift tug sent a stack of horizontal wooden slats rising toward the ceiling, unfolding as they went until the last one met the ceiling with a loud click. They could still see out through the gaps, but they wouldn’t be jumping out anytime soon. “You know you’re too lazy to work this thing. You might break a sweat.”

He reached over and grabbed ahold of a lever sitting on the far wall and began cranking. A creaking sound filled the elevator as pulleys engaged, and the entire room began to move upward.

“Interesting system,” Blade said as she watched the floors pass by outside the elevator. “Pulleys?”

“And a counterweight,” Barnabas confirmed. “We can’t do it any other way. It’s good exercise though.” He began to rotate the lever quicker, the elevator picking up speed as it passed another level. Blade caught sight of what looked like a communal area with children playing on some kind of jungle gym.

Interesting, she thought as her eyes spotted several diamond dog pups mixed in with the foals and a lone minotaur calf. Nobody seems uptight about their kids playing together, at least not that I can see.

“Top floor,” Barnabas announced as the elevator began to slow. “Nobody look down if you’re afraid of heights.”

The elevator came to a shuddering stop, and Barnabas kicked out at a small foot-switch near the door with one hoof. There was a loud click followed by a rattle of wood as the door slid down out of sight, and then they were moving across another large open space, though this one was smaller than the one down below. A large set of doors awaited them on the other side of the room, flanked by a bored-looking earth pony.

“Hey!” the guard said, her face brightening as she saw the group approaching. “Frost! Barnabas! You’re back!”

“Hey Merry,” Barnabas said as they approached. “How’s things?”

“Ah, the usual,” the mare said, shrugging. “Titus keeps driving everyone to prep for the worst, my brother’s making a nuisance of himself …”

“Oh?” Barnabas said as he moved to open the door. “Been sneaking the kids into the fortress again?”

“Yes,” the mare said with a roll of her eyes and a toss of her head. Her mane swung to the side with the movement, and for a moment Blade’s eyes locked on the faint nub of bone protruding from her forehead. It was definitely the beginnings of a horn, but it cut off abruptly, as if it had been—

Cut, she realized as the mare’s mane fell back over it. It’s been cut off. Was she a member of the cult? She turned her eyes away before the mare could notice her staring.

“You going to be around for a few days?” the mare asked, her attention still darting between Barnabas and Frost ... but lingering of Frost, Blade noticed.

Of course, Blade thought as she took a closer look at the young earth—No, she reminded herself, unicorn—pony. She’s a teenager. Probably looks up to these two.

“Probably not,” Barnabas said, glancing back at his sister. Frost seemed to have a very tightly controlled look of neutrality to her. “We’re actually here on business. I probably shouldn’t really say more.”

“Oh, all right,” Merry said, her head sinking a little. “That explains that runner earlier looking for the cap, huh? Well, say ‘hi’ when you can. And give my brother a kick for me when you see him, all right? Or better, yet,” she said, looking in Frost’s direction. “Maybe something with ice. Freeze him in that spot I got in trouble for kicking, all right?”

Barnabas let out a laugh as he pulled the door open, revealing a wall of white coming down from the sky so thick that Blade almost couldn’t make out the distant sight of the fortress. The light snowfall that they’d experienced at the bottom had become a blizzard.

“Got it,” the minotaur said as he bent down and ruffled the mare’s mane, taking care, Blade noticed, not to let his hand drift over the forward part of her head were the bony nub was. “Kick Pippin when we see him or wrap his nethers in ice. Doable.” He gave the teen a grin and then stepped out of the doorway.

Blade waited until the door was shut behind them and they were moving out onto the flexible, metal bridge that had been built over the massive chain links before she spoke. “She’s a unicorn, isn’t she?”

“You saw that, huh?” Barnabas said.

“Yeah. What happened?”

Barnabas shook his head. “The purge happened. Merry was born a few years after it, and she took after her grandmother. Her parents …”

“They cut her horn off to keep the cult from finding her,” Frost said, her voice so razor sharp it could have cut a snowflake. “They took away her magic, crippled her for life, because of the Order.”

“Yeah,” Barnabas said, slowing. “That.” Frost came to a stop behind him and turned towards Blade.

“That’s why I don’t care about the money,” she said, her eyes as hard and cold as her voice. “The cult has taken so much from so many. I’ll stop them, by any means necessary.” She continued on down the walkway, her hoofsteps muffled by the already thick carpet of snow.

“Don’t let her get to you,” Barnabas said, shaking his head as he watched his sister walk away. “She’s just …”

“Sad,” Alchemy said, and the minotaur nodded.

“Yes,” he said, nodding. “Very sad.”

They continued the rest of the journey in silence, the world around them fading into white as the snowfall around them continued to increase. They didn’t head straight for the fortress; Barnabas guided them off onto one of the offshoot paths, cutting over to another chain and working their way around the back of the massive keep until they arrived at the airship docks.

At first it didn’t look like much. The snow was coming down heavily enough that at first the docks were just a line of wooden platforms sliding out of the thick snowfall, followed by muffled calls and yells, but then a massive, oval shape appeared, rising out of the wall of snow like a specter from a fog, flanked by a set of landing lights that barely penetrated the gloom.

It was the envelope of the Seeker, the lightly armored courier frigate that Kalos had been sent after them in. As they moved into its shadow, the shape of the fuselage beneath the envelope came into view, a sharply angled and slightly stylized body with a nose that looked a little like a diving griffon’s beak. Except that a griffon’s beak wasn’t armed with modern cannons. A collection of dockhooves and hands were busily securing the airship’s tie-lines to the dock, securing the vessel above the platform.

“Kuzen!” came a cry from nearby, and Blade looked over to see Kalos waving a wing at her. He was involved in a discussion with one of the dockhooves, probably the airboss from the look of him, but Kalos waved his claws and the pony nodded. A second later the griffon had spread his wings and was flying over towards them.

“Excellent!” he said as he came to stop next to her, his wings sending up a cloud of snow. He was wearing a captain’s vest without armor, and a pouch was slung over his shoulder. “I was almost worried you’d gotten lost in this snow!”

“Not likely,” Blade said, eyeing the sleek lines of the frigate. “So this is your command, huh?”

“Yep!” Kalos said, grinning and then giving the rest of the group a quick bow. “Lady and gentlebeings—” Hain let out a short, low laugh.

Kalos continued as if nothing had happened. “—allow me to introduce you to the courier frigate Seeker, a product of our own design and engineering.”

“Really?” Blade said, surprised. “She’s a new design?”

“She is,” Kalos said, a satisfied looking smile on his face. “Conceived, designed, and built—mostly—in the Teardrop shipyard. “First of her class.”

“Which would be …”

“The Seeker class, of course,” he said. “You always name the first vessel after the class.”

“Right.” She gave him a nod but didn’t expound. It certainly wasn’t a bad looking ship, though she doubted it was as fast or maneuverable as The Hummingbird. But then again, that ship had been a fast, long-range deployment dropship compared to this. This was a warship.

She opened her mouth to ask about the ship’s armament, but Barnabas spoke first. “Are you ready to meet with Captain Titus?” he asked.

Kalos nodded and tapped at a pouch hanging at his side. “I spoke with Patriarch Arcwing a few days ago, and he outlined an appropriate set of conditions for me to follow. Lead on when ready.” He shivered for a moment and then eyed the sky. “Even if the weather has warmed up enough to snow, I’d rather not be completely soaked by the time we arrive.

Barnabas nodded and began leading them towards the end of the platform. As they walked, her cousin slipped up next to her and flipped the top of his bag open.

“I also have something for you,” he said, pulling out a small piece of rolled paper with one pair of talons. “That favor you asked for.”

“Nice.” She plucked the small piece of paper from his claws and unrolled it with one swift motion. A blank piece of paper stared up at her, as white as the surrounding snowfall.

“It’s blank,” she said, looking up at him. “What’s the joke?”

“They couldn’t translate it,” he said, shrugging. “We passed it to a few people we have who could be considered experts, but they’re really not, just knowledgable. The closest they could get was that it’s definitely some form of ancient griffon, or derived from it, but past that …” He gave her another shrug. “Maybe if you took it somewhere else, but that’s all I’ve got.”

“Interesting,” she said, crumpling the blank paper. “Thanks.” Ancient griffon? Why would a key to unseal the prison of an ancient unicorn cult leader have a form of ancient griffon writing on it? I might not be an expert on the subject, but I’d think if there was something like that in our history, I’d know about it. She glanced in Hain’s direction. If he’d overheard their conversation, he wasn’t giving any sign.

“You look like that actually told you more than I thought,” Kalos said. “What’s up?”

“That’s confidential,” she said, shooting him a smirk. And I don’t really know. I’m going to need to do some more research. “So, what’s the armament on the Seeker?”

“Awesome,” Kalos said, grinning with a faraway look in his eyes. “She’s a beaut. Hardened wood, steel plating. Multiple rail mounted auto-reloading ballistas. But the best is her forward guns. Two fifty-millimeter guns mounted on either side of her forward hull, with pretty good firing arcs. They cost us a small fortune to import, and to fire, but it’s worth it.”

“Not bad,” she said, only half listening.

“Oh, it gets better …” Kalos continued describing the virtues of the Seeker as they moved further into the keep, passing into tall-ceiling, wide hallways that were overly large for any species she could think of except perhaps dragons, but then they looked too small for that particular species.

“We’re almost there,” Barnabas said as Frost came to stop by a closed set of double doors. “You guys ready?”

“Sure,” Blade said, hoping her ruff wasn’t out of place. I’ve never met the ruler of a pirate gang before, unless I count that lousy group of smugglers near Highclaw Beach. Kind of a poor comparison.

Barnabas gave the doors two quick knocks and then pulled them open as a loud, commanding voice rang out “Enter!”

She wasn’t sure what she’d expected. Maybe a throne of valuable metals, or at least some sort of grand hall. But instead what she saw as they followed Barnabas into the Cragtooth leader’s room didn’t look wholeheartedly like a trophy room. It looked like a war room. Mixed with an office.

At the center of the room was a massive, rectangular table that had been mounted on adjustable legs so that it could be moved to any height that was needed. A three-dimensional map of the Ocean of Endless Ice had been built atop its surface, complete with blocky wooden models—color-coded—that Blade expected marked the locations of known “enemy” forces. She had to admit it was a pretty impressive map, especially when she noted the smaller numbers that had been attached to the sides of each of the force markers.

Numbers? she thought. Or … no! she realized as she ran her eyes over a few of the other models. That’s how long it’s been since she’s gotten more information. She couldn’t help but notice the large number “1” sitting atop the forces near Cedar Shipyards.

The rest of the room was still impressive, even with the centerpiece that was the map dominating everything. Several shafts of wood were hanging from the wall, each with a plaque beneath it that listed the name of the ship it had been taken from. A few weapons were hanging nearby, along with the skull of what looked like a young dragon. Compared to the table, however, the display was somewhat subdued.

Even the desk looked like something she could have found in the office of any other commander. It was large, which wasn’t that surprising when considering its occupant, but other than its size there wasn’t anything spectacular that set it apart or marked it as being the desk of a leader of a group of pirates. In fact, from the number of folders that were spread across it, it could have been the desk of a clan accountant back in the Empire.

But it was the individual sitting behind the desk that caught her eye. Captain Titus rose as they entered the room, her tattooed, muscular arms pressing down on her desk. So colorful were the images and shapes that spiraled up and down her arms that Blade had to look toward the captain’s face to get an idea of her pelt color—a basic grey, with no other distinguishing features to show aside from the three, long braids of her hair that stretched almost to her waist.

Captain Titus was wearing, to Blade’s surprise, armor, a full plate that seemed to barely cover her chest, though when she moved, a hint of a black tunic beneath it poked out around the edges. It didn’t rattle against anything as she moved, and when she rose up fully from behind the desk, Blade saw why. She was wearing only the front half of the plate armor, and there was a wicked, scorched, and molten dent running along the lower half of it. A simple pair of cloth pants was all she was wearing past that.

“So,” she said, her voice booming through the room. It was rich and thick, like molten chocolate. “You miscreants are the ones responsible for whole Ocean being up in flames, huh?” She stomped around the desk, the floor shaking faintly underfoot with each thud of her hooves. “Which one of you is responsible for this?”

“That’d be me,” Blade said, flexing her talons and stepping forward. Captain Titus came to a stop a few feet away from her, glaring down at her and breathing heavily through her nostrils.

“Why?” Blade ventured. “You got a problem with how I handle my team?”

“A problem?” Titus said, her eyes widening. “A problem?” The floor underfoot shook from the force of the captain’s voice. Blade had heard that female minotaurs were loud, but actually being a few feet away …

They’ve definitely undersold it, she thought as Titus took a deep breath, preparing for what was sure to be a deafening tirade. Game face on.

“Thanks to you, Cedar Shipyards is without a neutral stance for the first time on the Ocean in over a hundred years!” the minotaur yelled, her voice rattling the room. “They’re appealing for aid. Our aid! They want protection! To work out a unified, mutual agreement!”

“That sounds like what you—” Blade began. Titus didn’t let her finish.

“Worse!” she shouted, turning and motioning toward the table. “Your actions on Ender’s Isle have brought the Bloodhooves and the cult down on it harder than ever before. They have six ships docked there right now—six! And they’re claiming that it’s neutral, but it’s not. They’re harassing citizens, pushing people around, trying to goad the town into putting up a fight so they can claim some justifiable reason to take the place wholesale or draw my fleet out!” She let out an angry snort, nostrils flaring, and then turned back towards her desk.

Time to be bold, Blade thought. She took a step forward. “So what’s the problem?”

“Problem?” Titus stopped as suddenly as if a rope had been lashed around her waist. “Problem?” she asked again, turning.

“Yeah,” Blade said, staring up at her. “Problem. Last I heard, you wanted to try and get some allies in this little turf war of yours anyway.” Titus’s eyes flashed at the phrase “turf war.”

“So we’ve kicked up a little trouble,” Blade said. “So what? Would you rather we have let the Bloodhooves finish their new dreadnought so they could lock you in here like birds in a cage and wait out a siege? You should consider what we did a favor lady, especially since we’re here with an envoy from the Teardrop Eyrie, which you wanted anyway. So Ender’s Isle is under a little pressure.” She shrugged as if it wasn’t a big deal. “Who cares? With the combined might of both your forces and the eyrie’s, taking back the place probably won’t be that hard. If you’re lucky, the Bloodhooves and the cult will push them into wanting you to do it anyway.”

For a moment Titus leaned in closer, her massive eyes boring into her, and Blade began to wonder exactly how much trouble she’d get into if she ended up in a fight with the titanic female minotaur. She’d never actually fought one before, but she’d heard the stories. Female minotaurs were usually larger than the males of their species, and all of the larger, more stable minotaur clans were led and ruled by their clan mothers. The abundance of males was what made them so warlike in the first place, proving their battle prowess as a test of strength.

I can take you, old goat, Blade thought as she stared up at the minotaur, whose gaze was growing grimmer by the second. Make a move, and I’ll make myself a new leather—

Titus let out a chuckle, the anger melting away from her face, and Blade paused. Wait, what? Then the minotaur threw her head back, letting out a long, deep laugh that was almost as deep as Barnabas’s own.

“You are a firecracker!” she said through her mirth. “Wow! No wonder you’ve got Barnabas and that old exile in tow. Pits of Tartarus, girl, you’ve got more guts than my old mother had, and she’d soon as chew nails as back down from a decent fight.”

It was a test, Blade realized as the minotaur took another look at her and burst out laughing.

“Look at you, still ready to fight!” she said, wiping away a tear from her eye. “Don’t you worry about that in here, hun. Old Captain Titus was just sizing you up.” She let out another long laugh. “No wonder you’ve got half the Ocean in an upheaval; you looked like you were ready to fight me right here and now!”

“I, uh, actually was,” Blade said, tapping her talons against the floor as her words seemed to make the minotaur laugh even louder. “No hard feelings, I hope?”

It took Titus a moment to stop laughing. “None at all, hun,” she said, reaching out and offering her a handshake. “Long as you don’t hold it against me for checking. I just had to see what kind of fight you had in you, considering all that’s gone on over the last few weeks. Did you know that the Bloodhooves have a bounty out on you?”

“They do?” Blade asked as she shook her head.

“Sure do,” Titus said, the amused look still on her face. “Seven-hundred and fifty reeds, dead.” She let out another laugh. “Compared to the five thousand bits that Equestria is offering for you alive after wrecking their border crossing, I think Ennuis is out of his league.”

“Ennuis?” The name made her ears perk up.

“Oh yeah, that moron’s pretty steamed about you beaching his ship, hun. And for poking out his eye. And the broken arm. And the finger.”

“Actually,” Alchemy said, speaking up. “I broke his arm.”

“You must be Alchemy,” Titus said, dropping Blade’s hoof. “I’ve heard some interesting things about you from the reports on Cedar Shipyards. You’re a lot stronger and faster than you look, I hear.”

“You’d be right about that, ma’am,” he said, nodding.

“Yeah, well, as much as I make my own crew call me ma’am, that tone bothers me,” Titus said. “So you’ll be dropping that until you can make it sound like I’m the pirate captain I am, not some doddering old female who can’t remember where she put her knitting needles.” She turned her gaze toward Hain next. “And you I’ve heard of.”

“Hain, captain,” he said, offering a slight bow. “Tactical and combat expertise.”

“Uh-huh,” she said, planting her hands on her hips as she looked at him. “And I’m a diamond dog den mother. Nice to meet the legendary general at last.” She gave him a respectful nod before turning her attention away.

Blade’s eyes flicked back toward Hain, watching for a reaction, but he simply nodded. Must be the nature of who he’s talking to for her to get away with that. Still, there was a slight tremble to the tip of his tail. The reminder of who he’d been—and what he’d given up—hadn’t left him unscathed.

I might have to talk to him about that later, she thought as she turned back to see Captain Titus jokingly ask if Frost was planning to leave any cult members for the rest of her crew.

Or better yet, she thought. Get the whole group in on it. They deserve to know the whole story on what kind of griffon we’re working with.

“And last but not least,” Captain Titus said, her voice still warm and friendly, but with a touch of iron in it. “We have our griffon envoy.”

“Captain Kalos Arcrider, ma’am,” Kalos said, spreading his wings and bowing low. There was a touch of dignity to the way he said the word “ma’am,” a sense of respect that permeated his words. “Envoy of Patriarch Gan Arcwing. It’s an honor to meet with you.”

“Honor, huh?” she said, reaching out and offering her hand. Kalos rose and took it. “Mighty words for someone who’s basically a pirate queen. Still, I like the way you said it. Arcwing your father?” Kalos nodded.

“Good,” Titus said, dropping his talons and walking around over towards the table. “So then I’ll assume that you’re good and on the inside of what he’s offering.”

“Well,” Kalos said, apparently caught by surprise by the suddenness of the way the meeting was moving. “We’d like to propose an alliance. A unification of forces to the eradication of the common enemy.” He stepped forward, coming up on the other side of the table. “Using a plan under the guidance of the exile—”

“Stop,” Titus said, lifting her hand. When it was clear that Kalos had stopped, she dropped most of her fingers, leaving a single digit in the air. “I want assurances,” she said, her voice firm. “This alliance. Are you willing to continue to work out specific details of force deployment, contributions, and stance with us after we’ve reached the end of our campaign?”

“Of course,” Kalos said. “In fact—”

“Then I agree,” Captain Titus said firmly.

Her announcement seemed to stun everyone involved, including Kalos himself, whose beak opened and closed several times before he found his voice. “Just like that? Without any other discussion?”

“I’ve wanted this alliance for a long time, young one,” Titus said, pressing both her palms against the edge of the table as she leaned toward him. “And even if the finer points are something we might disagree on come the future, for now the promise of our two sides working together is enough for me to agree to it, given I can get one little thing taken care of. Besides, with the battle plan coming straight from the beak of General P—”

“Don’t. Say. That. Name.” Hain’s words cut through the room like a knife. His wings were flared out, widespread while his talons did their best to dig into the wooden floor. His eyes were wide, distant.

“My apologies—” Titus began.

“Just don’t,” Hain said, his voice still a wire stretched so tightly it sounded as if it could have been used to cut through stone. “I am Hain. Nothing, and I mean, nothing, more.”

“Very well,” Titus said, the look of surprise vanishing from her face. “I apologize. I hope I haven’t offended you such that you wouldn’t offer your advice and assistance in planning out our little war?”

Hain seemed to snap back to awareness, blinking suddenly as if realizing where he was and what he’d said. “No,” he said, his voice still sounding a little strained. He ruffled his feathers, shaking his shoulders and wings as he tucked them back in. “No, I can offer my advice.”

“Good,” Titus said, her eyes drifting towards Blade and then on to Kalos. “Because I might hesitate if you weren’t. We’ll be needing you.”

“You mentioned one other little detail,” Kalos said, his voice starting a little shaky but quickly picking up speed. Apparently he’d been a little rattled by Hain’s outburst as well. “What might that be?”

Titus grinned. “I’m glad you asked, though it shouldn’t matter much to you.” Her eyes turned in Blade’s direction once more. “It’ll matter to them though. I can’t deploy my fleet at the moment. Not in any large numbers.”

“Why not?” Barnabas asked.

“Behemoth,” Titus said, her finger tapping a single wooden marker on the table. Blade stepped up to the edge and eyed the large, red, carved piece. “It’s patrolling the Ocean between here and the Pinnacle, right in line with Ender’s Isle.”

“So you’re locked in unless you go south,” Alchemy said.

“Exactly,” Titus said. “Even then, if we were to swing south around Ender’s Isle and come at the Bloody Tip from that direction—”

“The Behemoth could react and move to cut you off,” Blade said, nodding. “So you’re boxed in.”

“Yep. That dreadnought is bigger and more heavily armed than anything we’ve got,” Titus said, tapping the model once more. “And it’s got its own attendant fleet.”

“What of?” Kalos asked.

“A destroyer, the Heart’s Blood, and four frigates, two of which are running full anti-air packages with the newest gear,” she said. “By the time an airship gets close enough for an accurate shot on Behemoth …”

“They’d be picked off,” Kalos agreed. “That is a problem.”

“Fortunately,” Captain Titus said with a grin that featured more than a few missing teeth. “It’s a problem we’ve been working on for some time.”

“You have a solution?” Blade asked.

“We do,” Titus said, her grin widening. She glanced over at Frost and Barnabas. “We finished it.”

“It?” Barnabas asked. Blade took a little satisfaction in that he appeared as confused as she did by the vague statement.

“It,” Captain Titus said, nodding. “We finally managed to get it working.”

“What is ‘it,’ for the rest of us that don’t know?” Blade said. “A decoy?”

“No,” Titus said, shaking her head. “‘It’ is a bomb.”

“A bomb?”

Titus nodded. “A high-powered, ethereal bomb. A whole lot of explosive compounds, some of which I’m fairly certain any number of blacksmiths back in the homeland would take issue with us knowing, mixed with glitter.”

“Making a bigger bomb,” Blade guessed.

“No, actually,” Titus said, shaking her head. “It doesn’t assist the explosion at all. The explosion reacts with the glitter.”

“Doing what?” Hain had asked the question before Blade could.

“Well, overall nothing really,” Titus said. “If you were to detonate it anywhere else, the ultimate reaction would be … an explosion, really. No noticeable change. But,” she said, one corner of her mouth lifting slightly. “It has an interesting effect on the repulsive properties of the glitter.” Now Barnabas and Frost were nodding, apparently reminded of what the captain was talking about.

“Quit circling around the issue,” Hain said. “What does the bomb do?”

“It deactivates lift plates within its detonation radius,” Titus said with a smirk. “As near as we can tell, the way we’ve packed the bomb redirects much of the explosive energy of the blast into the glitter supply, which redirects it outward in the usual manner seen here on the ice. But since the crystal sealed in the lift plates is fixed in a single position and can’t adapt, move, or redirect, only resist incoming energies and push them back … the blast overwhelms them. A complete, irreversible destruction of the glitter in the plate.”

“Leaving the ship stranded at the mercy of the ice and unable to move,” Blade said. “That’s perfect.”

“A ship stranded on the ice would be torn apart,” Kalos added, his eyes wide. “And even if that took time, it’d be immobile.”

“Yes,” Captain Titus said. “If we detonate this bomb on Behemoth, the Bloodhooves lose their most powerful asset on the Ocean. However, there’s a catch.” She turned towards Blade. “The bomb needs to be delivered and armed manually.”

“You can’t fire it?” Kalos asked. “Or airdrop it?”

Captain Titus shook her head. “Believe me, if we could turn it into a shell of some kind, or airdrop it in, we’d have done it already. But the bomb’s too big to do either. Anything smaller and we don’t reach effective range. Maybe with a few years of tests …” She let her voice trail off.

“But we don’t have those few years,” Kalos replied. “So then, I assume you have a plan for getting this weapon of yours within range of Behemoth?”

“Yes,” Titus said, her eyes sliding towards Blade. “Actually, I do, and now that we have Sunchaser and her little group of reckless and crazy miscreants with us, I think we’ve got the team to pull it off.”

“Reckless and crazy?” Alchemy asked. “Us?” Blade could hear a hint of honesty to his question.

“Don’t worry about it, hun,” Titus said, grinning. “Around here, that’s a good thing. Now, let me explain what I’ve got planned, and then we’ll see what your ‘exile’ has to say about it.” Hain’s wings flared out slightly again as she spoke, and Blade glanced in his direction.

I’m going to have to address that soon, she thought as Titus began laying out her plan. The longer he has that reaction to his past … She shook her head and brought her attention back around to the captain and her explanation of what she wanted to do.

She was right. It was a plan for the reckless and crazy. A plan that was absolutely insane. And as Titus continued to explain how it was going to work, Hain occasionally interjecting and offering his suggestions, she couldn’t keep herself from grinning.

We pull this off, and the Cragtooths will be free to assist Teardrop’s forces in taking the Pinnacle, she thought as Hain, Kalos, and Titus began getting more in-depth with their planning, outlining their various options and strategies for taking the fortress.

We’re doing it, she thought as she watched them move and add forces to the table, plotting out angles of approach and discussing how to best utilize what force they had. We’re going to blow up a dreadnought and then invade a fortress. With an army. Frost was in on the discussion now, relaying her theory on the Order’s interest in finding their old founder. She could see Hain glancing in her direction, a telltale sign that he wanted her in on the action. That was fine. She could do that.

This whole plan is insane, she thought as she stepped up and offered her own opinions on the plan that had been laid out. And to be honest, I love it.

Count of Laws Broken: 0
Total Laws Broken: 63
Damage Value (In Bits): 0
Total Damage Value (In Bits): 103,209

Chapter 13 - Bombing the Behemoth

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Northeast of Ender’s Isle

This is insane. Alchemy lifted his head once more, looking at the rest of what he was starting to think of as “the team” sitting around him in the longboat. Absolutely insane! How did I get into this?

He knew the answer to that. Pirates, old griffon, new griffon, and the inability to stay in Ruffian’s Wharf without serious trouble. Still, at the time it hadn’t seen like that bad an idea. Then there had been that attack on the shipyard. Which was kind of … fun, in a way? Blade had certainly seemed to enjoy it, along with the rest of the group.

Still, this is a far cry from liberating a shipyard. This is an attack. You could die doing this. Not that the feeling was new. He’d thought that he was going to die when he’d made the decision to drink every potion he’d been told never to mix all at once, all on the chance that it would let him save his teacher and friends. But that had been … I don’t know, different? Was it? One had been to defend his friends and teacher, but this …

It’s to stop the cult, he thought as the longboat shifted again, the long screech of the vessel’s four ice anchors sliding atop the ice momentarily drowning out the droning grind that was so loud this close to the surface of the ocean itself. One of their “rowers” let out a faint curse and shifted his weight, the longboat rocking as ice bumped against its underside.

It’s still an insane plan, though, he thought as he looked up at the rest of the group. Blade was sitting near the front of the longboat, her wings folded at her sides but her head up, her rust-red plumage still visible in the dimming light, though even with his enhanced eyes it was difficult to see the color. Once the sun was fully down, even he’d have trouble identifying it.

Behind her came the forward of the two “rowers,” though he wasn’t exactly sure what they would technically be called. Both of the ponies were carefully working the special ice-anchors that had been installed in the flat bottom of the boat, lifting and lowering the anchors in time to keep the skiff crawling across the ice like a giant, dangerous beetle.

Behind them, near the middle of the skiff, Barnabas and Hain were both sitting around the long, yellow, rectangular bomb that the group was supposed to deliver. In person, he thought as he watched Barnabas reach out and tap the side of the case. And then we’ve got to secure it, and arm it.

All in all, he had to admit that as insane as the plan was, it made a degree of sense. There was nothing that the combined fleets of the Cragtooths and the griffons could throw at the Behemoth to kill it without taking such significant losses there’d be a strong chance they couldn’t push and take the Pinnacle. And taking the Pinnacle was the goal. So they needed to disable the Behemoth or destroy the vessel indirectly.

Which lead to the current plan. Stick one boarding party and the bomb inside a skiff that had been weighed down enough to keep it just inches above the ice, camouflage it with a bunch of old sailcloth that had been dyed to look like the surface of the ice itself, spend a few hours creeping across the ice to within striking distance, and then wait for the sun to go down. With any luck, their distraction would strike just as the sun went down, a quick hit and run to pull off a few of the dreadnought’s escorts, and without the extra eyes they’d be able to slip right up underneath the Behemoth and find a way in.

Simple, he thought as Blade lifted both wings, signaling for the forward drivers to stop. A deep groan rolled through the skiff, so deep he could feel it in his chest, and a loud crack split the air. Right.

Ice. Always shifting. Endlessly rotating and roiling in slow motion, driven upwards from who knew how far down, pushed about by the fluctuations of the ethereal system. Razor sharp, heavy, deadly ... and profitable, if you knew what you were doing.

Blade dropped her wings and the skiff began moving forward again, crawling on its metal legs as the two ponies behind her alternated their movements. Further back, separating Alchemy from the middle of the skiff where Hain, Barnabas, and the bomb sat, two more ponies were working the longboat’s back legs, though mostly that just amounted to lifting the metal implements ever so slightly so that the skiff would keep moving across the ice.

Past them it was just the back of the skiff, home to the last two passengers. Himself, and Frost.

She certainly didn’t seem to have any issues with their current mission, not that it would have been easy to tell. She’d boarded the skiff with the same cool expression she always wore, the only sign of interest from her drawn out when Blade would signal a direction with her wings, or when Barnabas would occasionally start humming under his breath. The rest of the last few hours they’d spent in the longboat, she’d simply sat there, her bow clutched in her hooves, her eyes straight ahead.

She’s not very talkative, but then again, you haven’t said much either. Blade shifted again, one wing coming up, and the skiff rocked slightly as an almost deafening crack echoed through the enclosed space. A second later the underside of the longboat kicked and for a moment, everyone onboard was completely alert, their eyes wide as they waited to see if the ice had done any damage. The skiff rocked slightly, but then began to lower, sliding off of the chunk of ice that had bumped into their center.

That’s the eighth time we’ve been hit, Alchemy thought as one by one everyone aboard let out sighs of relief. This is why you don’t get too close to the ice. Then again, being close to the ice was how this plan was working. Anyone could spot a skiff that was floating six or seven feet above the surface. But less than a foot? And camouflaged to look like the ice around it? A lot less likely.

Especially when the sun went down. The moon was usually bright, but during that twilight period when everypony’s eyes were adjusting, they’d make their move.

Which won’t be too long now, he thought as he looked up at the rapidly darkening sailcloth. Sunset is almost here. Which meant he’d need to take another dose of potion in a few hours, not that he was going to wait that long. There was an extra dose in the combat harness on his chest; he’d swallow it just before they boarded. A little energy to spare.

Still, it was a little unsettling to think that he’d shifted so far so quickly. Three weeks ago he’d been an alchemist. Now he was what? An alchemist turned super-soldier? A mercenary? A pirate?

If I am, does that make me any worse? he wondered as the skiff shifted again, ice cracking nearby. Or does it make me better? He’d seen the stub of horn on that young unicorn’s head in Cragtooth. He’d known that parents kept a close eye on their children, or sometimes just didn’t have kids, and that was bad enough. But cutting off a filly’s horn?

All because of some cult, he thought, pressing his front hooves hard against one another and feeling a faint heat that signified he was burning potion as he pushed them together. And the Bloodhooves. Thinking about it made him angry.

But does returning their violence with my own make me any better? Or does it make me less? he wondered as Blade flipped her wings forward, signaling the drivers to pick up the pace. Once I knew I was an alchemist, I wanted to use my potions to help. Now I’m using my “curse” to fight back against pirates and cultists. Then again, those pirates and cultists don’t have any stipulations about whether or not it’s right.

“Bothered?”

The voice was so soft that even with his enhanced sense it took him a moment to realize where it had come from. He turned slightly to side to see Frost staring at him, her wide, violet eyes boring into him.

“Thinking,” he said. There wasn’t any need to expound further. It wasn’t like she was going to—

“About what?” she asked, her voice still soft, but cold. Maybe it could never be warm.

“What we’re doing,” he said, keeping his voice low. “Three weeks ago I was just a town doctor.”

“A town doctor who can take on a dozen ponies,” Frost said, her voice quiet and cool. “If you wanted to stay a doctor, you could have.”

“Yeah, but …” She did have a point. “The pay for this is really good too.”

“So then what’s bothering you?”

“I … The death, I guess.”

“You don’t like it?” she said, running one hoof down her bow.

“No,” he said, shaking his head just a tad. “I don’t. At least, I don’t think I do.”

“What’s that mean?”

“It means …” He closed his eyes for a minute. What had he meant by that? “It means that on some level, I do enjoy it. Not the killing, I mean. But the … the feel of what we’re doing. I mean, we did something good in Cedar Shipyards, but we had to hurt a lot of ponies to do it.”

“So?”

“So? he replied, tossing her question back at her. “This isn’t something I’m used to. Hurting ponies, for good? That’s a job for … I don’t know … The Royal Guard.”

“We’re not in Equestria. There are no Guard here.”

“You know what I mean, though,” he said. Up in the front of the boat, Blade lifted her wings. A distant boom echoed across the ice, followed by the crack of a cannonball crashing down on the frozen surface. For a moment everyone in the skiff was silent, until Blade looked back and gave them the thumbs up. The Cragtooth distraction force, then. Not their cover being blown. Good.

“Do I?” Frost asked as the longboat began moving forward again.

“There’s local officials,” he said, shrugging. “Ruffian’s Wharf did have a sheriff of sorts—”

“Did he or she stop the Bloodhooves from taking over?” Frost asked.

“Well, no,” he admitted. “But—”

“Did they tell the cult not to carry out the purge?” she asked, turning to look at him, her eyes narrowing in the swiftly darkening interior of the skiff.

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “I wasn’t here for that, but I don’t think they could have.”

“So can they now?”

“Well … No, they can’t.”

“But what if we can?”

“Is it our place though?” he asked, looking at her. “I mean, just because we can?”

“Do you think the cult asks itself such questions?” she asked. “Do you think that because they can, that makes what they do right?”

“No,” he said quickly, shaking his head. “They’re doing terrible things.”

“And if we can stop them, why wouldn’t we? If the cult was gone, wouldn’t that be a good thing?”

“Well … yeah.”

“So then what’s the problem?”

“I guess … I guess I just don’t like doing terrible things to stop others from doing terrible things,” he said.

“Ah,” she said. “I think I understand. You’re thinking about them like they’re you. Like they’re the ponies that you’re trying to make life better for.”

“Well, yeah.”

“Don’t.” The sharpness of her tone made him flinch. “Maybe they were once, but right now? The Bloodhooves are uncaring scumbags who’d just as soon kill you as beat you. The Order is worse. They’ll do worse than just kill you. Trust me.”

“But how do I feel better about possibly killing them?” he said. “I mean, as far as I know I don’t think I actually have … not intentionally.”

“There’s a saying I heard once,” Frost said, her voice almost silent. “All it takes for evil to triumph is for good to do nothing. I don’t know if that justifies what I do. Maybe not. But that doesn’t make it any less true.” She turned towards him, looking him in the eye. “Someone has to be the one to say enough is enough, to stand up and let these freaks know that they don’t have a right to rob us, beat us, and kill us as they please.”

“And that’s supposed to be, well, us? Here? Does that give us the right to kill?” he said, looking at the rest of the boat.

“Maybe,” Frost said. “At least we’re trying. But let me put it this way, Alchemy.” Her horn gave a soft glow, a smooth, icy shaft appearing in her hooves. “I’ve killed a lot of cult members over the years. And I’ll kill a lot more before this is over. Do I enjoy it? Not the killing, no. But do I enjoy knowing that somewhere, someplace, someone else will never have to go through what I did because I’ve made the world a little bit safer for them. Because what the cult is doing is wrong. What the Bloodhooves do is wrong, too.”

She shook her head, her mane falling across her shoulders like a curtain of ice. “And someday, maybe even before I die, but definitely after, I’ll have to account for that. I’ll have to make my case for why I made the choices I did. But I’m certainly not going to sit there and say I did nothing while others did wrong.”

“And what if—if you go too far?” Alchemy asked. He’d caught himself. He’d almost asked what would happen if he himself went too far.

“What, you mean become what I hunt? Turn into a murdering monster who kills for their own gain and pleasure?” She shrugged, her arrow sliding into place on her bow. “I hope I don’t. I’d like to think I won’t. But if I do … Then I hope someone else has the guts to do to me what I do to the cult.”

There was a cold certainty to her words, like she’d already considered the possibility herself. “That’s a … um …”

“You can say it’s cold,” Frost said without a touch of humor. “I’m used to it.” Up in the front of the skiff, Blade began signaling the drivers, and Alchemy felt the longboat tug slightly beneath him as he picked up speed. They were getting closer.

“Well, no offense, but I hope I don’t get that cold,” he said as Blade turned and motioned towards Barnabas, snapping her talons against one another. The minotaur reached down underneath the seat he was sitting on and pulled out a large crossbow, the kind with enough kick to it that one was usually supposed to brace it against a gunwale.

“Don’t,” Frost said as her brother passed the crossbow forward. Alchemy blinked in surprise at her words. “If there’s one thing I’m certain of, it’s that you can make hard choices and do hard things without being like me. Like my brother. The way he is with kids, the way he is with his friends, but he’s still capable of doing the right thing, even if that means using that axe of his.” The axe in question was coming out now, Barnabas pulling it from beneath the seat and hefting it in his hands.

“Maybe if you’re still worried about it, ask him,” she said, her hooves tapping against her bow. Up in the bow, Blade was slowly pulling the edge of their cover back, lifting the crossbow and bracing her hind legs against the boat. “Because he’s probably warmer. But don’t get the wrong idea. I don’t always kill. Neither should you. Death is a serious, serious thing. Taking someone’s life?”

“One of the hardest decisions ever,” he said, nodding. “I know. I’m a doctor.”

“Well, you don’t always have to make it,” she said, lifting her bow. “And in combat, you’re probably better off not thinking about it. After all, that’s kind of the point of combat sometimes, to defeat the other side.” There was a snap followed by a hiss as the crossbow discharged and launched its bolt across the ice, a thin but tough rope zipping along behind it. The moment the rope began to slow, Blade grabbed at it, wrapping the meaty part of her talons around it and tugging fast, eating up the slack the line’s momentum had given it. It went tight.

“So,” he said, taking a breath. “Don’t think about it. Judge each life carefully. Don’t become the monster. But recognize that during the course of standing up for something right, you have to act, and sometimes that act means violence.”

She lifted one eyebrow. “You got all that from what I was saying?”

“Why, was I wrong?” he asked.

“No,” she said as Blade began to pull quickly at the rope, Barnabas grabbing the end and assisting. The skiff began to pick up speed, slipping across the ice with rising momentum. “You’re right. I’m just used to most sapients reactions at the end of my explanations being along the lines of silence.”

“Not disagreement?”

“They’re usually too scared to disagree,” Frost said, and for a moment in the dim light he thought he saw the corner of her lip turn upwards just slightly.

Maybe the ice-queen has a heart after all, he thought. Up on the bow Blade had stopped pulling the rope, and a shadow slipped over the bow of the skiff, the whole vessel sliding into darkness as they moved into the gap between the Behemoth’s hull and the ice.

“That’s it!” Blade said, wrapping the line around a cleat in the bow. There was a sudden jerk as the longboat’s momentum caught up with it, snapping the front end to port and throwing the back end out. Alchemy threw his hooves out, catching himself against the side and grabbing Frost’s foreleg to keep her from slamming into the side. One of the rowers didn’t fare as well, though he had the sense to muffle his yell as he collided with the far wall.

“More warning next time, kit,” Hain said as he picked himself up.

“Sorry,” Blade said. “We were going faster than I thought. Still, we’re here. Everyone get ready.”

Alchemy let go of Frost’s foreleg and plucked the single vial of his potion from his harness. Here we go. It tasted spicy this time for some reason. Spicy and warm.

A shiver ran across his whole body as the potion struck his stomach, a rolling wave of fire that felt like it was burning a hole through his insides and spreading its heat through his limbs. He rolled his shoulders back once, feeling the scorching heat of the magic inside of him as his entire body went into overdrive.

“I’ve spotted the hatch,” Blade said, bending over and picking up the crossbow once more. “Making the second shot.” There was a sharp twang as she fired again, another buzzing hum filling the longboat as the trailing line rubbed against the side. Moments later the skiff switched angles once more as Blade tugged on the line. She was pulling one line, then handing it off to one of the earth pony rowers and pulling at the other one, working the boat along the underside of the massive dreadnought.

Come on … he thought as the skiff moved forward. He began pressing his forehooves against one another, using up some of the heat that was burning inside his chest before it did anything really damaging. He’d taken the dose earlier than normal, and if he didn’t burn the excess potion off, it was going to burn itself off, and not in any way that felt good. A fiery, internal pain would sweep through him as his organs overdosed, shut down, and healed repeatedly over seconds. It would hurt for a while, but with the volume he’d taken, the pain would be manageable. Barely. He’d tried a larger overdose only once before. It’d almost killed him.

Come on. The world seemed … slower when he was like this. As if everything was just a quarter-second or so behind. He could see every twitch of Frost’s ears, see the exhalation of her every breath as she lifted a heavy canteen full of water and took a long sip. Her bow was resting around her shoulders now, and he realized with a bit of surprise that it was a different one than the one she’d been using at the shipyard.

She brought a shortbow, he thought as he looked at the rest of the group. Barnabas was tapping his fingers against the head of his greataxe, the weapon balanced across his knees, while Hain was sitting almost ramrod straight, his wings folded tightly against his sides. Both of the pair were wearing armor, though it was lightweight stuff, held in place with straps and buckles rather than under its own weight. The kind of stuff that was designed for quick, fast combat, protecting only the most vital and vulnerable areas.

They’d offered some to him as well, but he’d declined. He’d never actually fought with armor on before; even the combat harness he was wearing felt odd and out of place, though its usefulness in carrying potions inside its hardened pockets couldn’t be ignored. Despite the usefulness of the utility, the tough material wouldn’t do much to block a blade.

That’s why I won’t get hit, he thought. Or if I do, I let the potion take care of it.

“All right, crew,” Blade said from the front of the skiff as she tied down the last rope and picked up the crossbow. “We’re here. Secure the rear.”

It took less than a minute to pull away their sail-cloth roof and put two more crossbow bolts into the bottom of the ship hull above them, tying each of them to the rear of the skiff. Blade had brought them beneath the starboard side access hatch, a small, hardened wooden entryway into the ship above. Its ultimate purpose was to serve as a visual means for checking the underside of the ship if the vessel had any collisions with the ice—more than once Alchemy could recall doing similar checks on the ice dredges he’d worked on after a particularly energetic bit of ice had slammed into the bottoms of the ships. Most ship hulls were constructed from the hardest, heaviest, compressed wood that could be found on the Ocean, but it often wasn’t a match for the ice. And if such a hit damaged the ship’s lift-plates, the crew wanted to know immediately.

“Everyone ready?” Blade asked as the dim horizon began to light with distant flashes. Faint, rolling booms echoed across the ice as their distraction engaged the dreadnought’s escorts.

“Ready,” Alchemy said, chiming his voice in with the rest as he stood, the skiff rocking beneath him.

“Good,” Blade said, grinning as she flexed her long talons. “Barnabas? Open the door. Once it’s open Alchemy will be first in and clear the immediate area, Hain and I moving to assist. You’ll pass the bomb up, and you and Frost will be the last two up. We’ll make our way to the stern, get as close to the center as possible, and bolt down the bomb, and arm it. Once the bomb is ready, we’ll make our way back here and ride the skiff out. Clear?” Her feathers shifted in the low wind as she looked at each of them. “All right then, team. Let’s move. Barnabas? Knock for us.”

“Right.” The minotaur extended one arm and wrapped it around the hatch’s emergency access handle, giving the red-painted wood a sharp tug. Nothing happened. He pulled again, harder, the veins on his arms bulging through his short coat.

“It’s locked,” he said, lowering his arm. “That’s okay though, I’ve got a key.” He took a step back, spreading his legs and taking a quick look around to make sure no one was within reach, and then swung his axe up in a sharp, steep arc.

There was a faint crunch as the blade bit into the hardened wood, and Barnabas swung again. This time he had to tug the axe back, chips of wood sprinkling down around him as he tore the weapon free. There was a third, final crack of wood parting, and then Barnabas extended his arm up once more and pushed the hatch inward.

“It’s open,” he said, giving the wood a quick shove with his fingers and grinning as it didn’t fall back down. “It’s dark, but I can just make out the ladder and the inner hatch.”

Alchemy didn’t need light to see what Baranbas was talking about. The world was almost glowing to his eyes, his limbs burning like he’d dipped them in molten metal. I need to burn some of this off now, or it’s going to really start to hurt.

“Alchemy,” Barnabas began, holding out one of his hands. “Step in and I’ll lift—”

Alchemy didn’t give him a chance to finish speaking. He jumped forward, kicking both his rear feet off of the extended hand and then off of the minotaur’s shoulders, launching himself into the access port like a skybound missile. Rungs blurred as they shot past, the force of his jump enough that he didn’t need to use them. The inner hatch was in front of him almost instantly, and he tucked his head to his shoulder, bracing his forelimbs in front of himself.

The latch parted with a deafening crack as he crashed through it, breaking apart and scattering away from him even as a lance of pain shot through his forelegs. His upward momentum persisted just long enough for him to take a quick look around and realize that it was too dark even for him to make out much, and then he was falling back down, down towards the broken square of light below him.

He spread his legs and hit the deck on all four hooves, the impact ringing through whatever room he was in. One of his legs felt weak, like it wanted to collapse at the hoof. A sprain, he thought as he glanced at it. The pain faded, a rush of power moving down the leg and brushing away the wound. He felt less jittery now that he was using up the surplus. His other leg still hurt though, and as he looked back over the opening he could see the faint shape of a splintered bit of wood sticking out of his fetlock.

“Alchemy?” Blade called as he tugged the bit of wood free with his teeth, pain shooting up his leg. He spit the chunk of wood aside, his fetlock burning as his body went to work, and by the time he’d turned back to the opening he could already feel the wound sealing itself shut.

“I’m fine,” he called. “Room’s dark though, and …” He paused for a moment, his ears twisting and turning as they tried to pick out noises over the groan of the ice, still persistent even inside. Still, there were no raised voices or shouts. “We’re clear,” he called down. “Get up here and bring a light.”

“Got it. Once we get Barnabas out of the way. Come on,” she said. “Back on your hooves.” Seconds later Blade blocked off the light, and he stepped back as she crawled up past the ballasts and into whatever room he was in. There was a bright spark that lit the room for a second, and then a warm glow began emanating from a lantern that she was clutching in her beak.

“Well, looks like we’re in luck,” Alchemy said as he took a quick look around the room they were standing in. It was a small, dry, cold and empty storage area from the look of it, with a thick layer of dust and grime along the floor. A single door was set against the wall. From the look of the cobwebs stretching across one corner, it hadn’t been used in some time.

“Yeah,” Blade said, setting the lantern on the floor as Hain made his way through the opening after her. “Help Barnabas with the bomb. I’ll check the door.”

“Right.” He moved over to the opening, brushing aside the broken bits of wood he’d scattered when he’d broken through the upper hatch. Barnabas was just visible standing on the deck of the skiff down below, one end of the bomb resting against his chest as he looked upward.

“You ready?” he called as he saw Alchemy’s face. Alchemy nodded, reaching down with one hoof. There was a loud grunt from below as Barnabas slowly began lifting the bomb up towards the opening. “Here it comes.”

“Got it,” Alchemy called, wrapping his wrist around a handle on the end of the bomb. “Keep it coming.” He began to pull, his muscles burning slightly as he called more and more effort forth from them. There was a sudden increase in the weight on his hoof as Barnabas shifted his position, and he gritted his teeth, forcing his body to pull even harder. With a faint squeak, the end of the bomb slipped past the hatchway, and he was able to get both hooves wrapped around the handle, tugging it further upward until it began to tilt.

Something pushed at it from below and he was jerked off balance, the bomb tipping to one side and falling towards the floor. He shifted his weight, catching it at the last moment and letting it hit the deck with a faint, hollow thunk.

“That was close,” he said as Frost stuck her head through the opening, her bow still wrapped around her shoulders. The door to the room squeaked slightly as Blade pushed it open, dim light spilling in from whatever hallway lay beyond.

“No one’s around,” she said, giving them a quick thumbs up. “Have Barnabas grab the bomb. Alchemy, lead the way.”

“Right.” He nodded and stepped into the narrow hall, looking in both directions before deciding on a path and heading toward the port side of the vessel. The hallway was dimly lit, the dust and grime underhoof barely visible in the light cast from a single, bare magilight. Move till we find a hallway back. Look for the stern.

The rest of the team formed up in single file behind him, Barnabas in the middle with his arms wrapped around the large bomb. Despite the bulky weapon’s size, he was still making good pace. But not good enough, Alchemy thought. My legs are still burning a little and—

The train of thought ended as he heard voices, and he whipped his hoof back, signaling to the rest of the group to stop. Someone was coming. Closer, from the sound of the hoofsteps.

“—telling you,” a voice said, becoming clear as it drew nearer. “I heard something.”

“There’s nothing down here to hear!” another voice shot back. Two then, both ponies from the rapid, discordant sound of hoofbeats. “It’s just ballast and stuff, and no one else heard anything.”

“Here to hear?” the first voice came back as a flickering light began to grow down one way of the intersection. “How would you hear anyway? You’re half deaf. And I’m telling you, I heard something.”

Alchemy glanced back at Blade as the second voice spoke again. “Well, you had to mouth off about it,” it said, as Blade formed a fist with one pair of talons and tapped it against her palm. The message there was clear. “Now we’ve got to go stick our heads under the boat and take a quick look around, and it’s all your fault.”

Alchemy nodded as the voice drew closer. Right, I can do this. There’s only two of them. He glanced up at the intersection, which was growing brighter by the second. Kick off there, there, and catch them both off-guard … He waited, his eyes fixed on the intersection until he saw the hint of a shadow. Now!

He leapt forward, his hooves meeting the side of the hall just before the intersection and kicking him off at an angle towards the back wall. He twisted in the air, his hooves blurring as he kicked off once again, this time angling himself up the intersecting hallway … and directly into the two earth ponies that were standing with dumbfounded expressions on their faces. The first didn’t even have time to speak: Alchemy’s hoof collided with the side of his head, snapping it back against the wall with a loud thud and pinning his limp body against the wall. At the same time, Alchemy swept his rear hoof out, catching the second pony in the gut hard enough that he lifted into the air.

Alchemy pivoted, shifting his weight and pulling his forehoof away from the unconscious pirate he’d pinned. The world seemed to be moving through a thick fluid, slower now as the potion pounded through his veins. It felt beautiful.

And so did the faint sense of resistance his arching, overhead hoof felt as it reached the end of its sweep, catching the still-airborn pirate right in the center of his head and driving him down into the deck head first. Twin thudding sounds echoed down the hallway as both bodies hit the deck within moments of one another.

Something was wrong. Where’s the light coming from? Alchemy turned, already moving even as he saw the pegasus mare staring wide-eyed at him from further down the hall, a portable magilight gripped in her teeth. Her jaw dropped, the light falling from her mouth as she began to scream.

“Intrud—” Her eyes widened even further as his hoof slammed into the center of her head, the last bit of her scream coming out as a wheeze as she slumped to the ground, out cold. He held his position for a brief moment, waiting. He didn’t have to wait long.

“What was that?”

“Did you hear that?”

“Dervish, you okay down there?”

“Cassius, go check it out.”

Tartarus. The voices echoing down the hall told him everything he needed to know. He turned, caught sight of Blade standing at the intersection, and opened his mouth. “We’ve been outed. Move!”

The team reacted instantly, even as yells of surprise at his own shout began to echo down the hall. “Toward the back of the ship!” he called, pointing. “Go!”

“I’ll take care of the first pursuers,” he said, turning back towards the hallway the three ponies had come down and bolting down it, his body swelling with power. The voices were closer, coming from around a corner up ahead, and he stuck out a hoof, catching the wall and whipping his body around the corner.

A pony paused, halfway down a set of steep stairs with his jaw open in shock. Alchemy didn’t give him time to recover. A quick push sent his body flying up the stairwell, his forehoof colliding with the side of the pirate’s head as he flew past. He kicked off of the pony’s back for good measure, sending him bouncing down the stairs even as he shot the rest of the way up the stairwell, emerging into a brightly lit room full of an assortment of ponies, diamond dogs, and other pirates in various states of activity. Four were sitting around a poker table. For a moment no one moved, seemingly stunned by his sudden appearance. A poker chip dropped from one dog’s hand, spinning on the tabletop and winding down with a slow thrum. Then, with a roar, the entire room leapt into action.

The first pirate dove at him barehoofed, and he ducked under the blow, bringing one of his forehooves up in a sharp, powerful uppercut that not only stopped the pony in her tracks, but lifted her up into the air and sent her flying back without the use of her now limp wings. He didn’t have time to watch her land. He was too busy dealing with another strike coming at him from the other side.

He darted to one side, a closed fist narrowly missing his head, and slid right into his training. Among the reeds, he thought as he bent his body back, balancing on his rear hooves and sliding beneath twin attacks from both an angry looking diamond dog and a howling earth pony. Wanazidi mgomo. He moved forward, both forehooves snapping out in opposite directions and slamming both his attackers in the chest.

There! His mind barely had time to register the sudden sense of motion at his back as power flared inside his chest. He snapped—there was no better word for it—to a new position, a long, curved blade cutting through the space where his head had just been. The pony who had swung it gaped at his quick movement, only to grimace in pain as a series of quick, heavy hits rolled across his chest and forelimbs. The sword clattered against the floor, useless as Alchemy slammed his attacker in the chest hard enough to send him crashing back against the wall.

This is … He could feel the power surging through him, every heartbeat of his body another burst of energy. This is … A crossbow bolt flew past, missing him by inches as he moved impossibly quickly, his body snapping to one side so quickly he could hear the air pressure shifting. This is … Wood flexed beneath his hooves as he darted forward in a zigzag, so fast that that his attackers were having trouble tracking him. The potion burned in his chest, not a painful burn, but a swelling, rushing thrill.

This is fun. He collided with another pirate, sliding easily under her clumsy attack, a punch so slow it might as well have been in slow motion. Or maybe he was just moving really fast. He spun, delivering a kick to the side of her head that sent her spinning away, taking time in the air to get a quick look at his surroundings. There were only four—no five—pirates left, most of them armed. One with a crossbow, which he was lifting to shoot once again, the other three with various clubs and blades.

Five, he thought as he hit the ground and dove to one side, the crossbow bolt ricocheting off the floor where he’d just been and embedding itself somewhere behind him. I can handle five.

They came at him as a group, the diamond dog who’d dropped the poker chip in the lead with a short sword. She opened her mouth to scream as she brought the blade down. “I had three aces!”

He stepped around the attack and then dodged again as one of the dog’s compatriots threw his knife. A small blossom of pain erupted around his ear, and he felt the cartilage tug slightly as the blade nicked the tip.

He repaid the injury by slamming his shoulder into the pony’s chest, lifting him from the ground and sending him spinning him towards his erstwhile allies. The pirate collided with one of them, both crashing to the ground.

Another crossbow bolt shot past, so close he could feel the rush of displaced air sliding across his flank, and he stepped to the side.

Someone hit him from behind as he moved, slamming into his rear legs and sending him crashing to the floor. The diamond dog’s blade glinted in the light as she brought it down, aiming right for his neck. His rear legs were still pinned, even as he kicked out and knocked the pegasus away. The blade was coming down, right for his neck. There was no way he’d be able to get out of the way in time. There was only one thing he could do.

Alchemy yelled in pain as the blade bit into his foreleg, digging deep into the muscle and lodging against the bone. He could feel muscles and tendons separating, tearing as he tugged hard, pulled the blade free of the diamond dog’s hands and sending her stumbling to one side. Frost’s words about the pirates being more than willing to kill echoed through his mind as he rolled, ignoring the burning, biting pain in his foreleg as he lashed out with the other, bringing his hoof across hard into the dog’s knee. There was a crunch of bone and she fell, shrieking in pain.

He jumped back to his hooves, grabbing at the handle of the sword still lodged in his foreleg and tugging it out. Blood welled across the wound as he tossed the blade aside.

“You’re hurt,” the pony with the crossbow said, grinning as he lifted the weapon once more. His two friends had taken up flanking stances on either side of Alchemy, and he could hear the telltale rumble of oncoming hoofsteps echoing through the room. “Give up, and maybe we won’t kill you too slowly.”

“I’m not that easy to kill,” Alchemy said, lifting his wounded foreleg and wiping away the blood as power surged into it. The bleeding had already stopped, and he could see the wound sealing itself shut. It hurt, maybe even more than the actual wound had, but it was pain he could live with, even if it was fresh enough to make his breath come out in a shudder. “If I were you I’d start running for the lifeboats.”

“Have it your way,” the pirate said, his forehoof moving to squeeze the crossbow’s trigger.

Alchemy was moving before the pony had even finished speaking, throwing himself to the side and twisting around his opponent’s incoming attack to slam his elbow into the back of his head. The pirate went down, hard.

I need to finish this fast. He could feel his supply of potion ebbing, starting to recede. The healing had taken more out of him than he’d hoped. I need to get back to the group and take another dose.

The second of the crossbow pony’s allies went down, and the armed pony had a moment to let out a defiant yell before Alchemy’s hoof clocked him in the jaw.

Good— One of the doors burst open, and for a second the scene was a mirror of the room as it had been moments ago, save that now the positions were reversed. Now he was the one standing in the room with a look of shock while an angry looking minotaur lifted a very dangerous looking revolver.

MOVE! The last bit of potion flooded his body as he shot for the stairwell, moving so fast that his head almost slammed into the ceiling as he shot down the steps. A titanic bang echoed down the stairwell behind him, and something sharp and angry slammed into the wood above him.

I can’t dodge a bullet, he thought as he hit the lower level at a full sprint, flying down the hallway in the direction the team had gone. I don’t even know if I can heal a bullet wound.

He could hear commotion ahead as well as behind now, shouts he recognized as coming from the team. Of course, there has to be more than one way down here, he thought as he caught sight of an open doorway up ahead. All I did was hold off one end of the response for a while … which I guess can’t be too bad.

He ducked around the doorway just in time to see Barnabas slam another minotaur’s weapon out of the way and then headbutt him, knocking the minotaur back. Hain dove in from the side before the pirate could recover, his knife flashing in and out and eliciting howls of pain from the minotaur, who dropped to the ground clutching at his legs.

“Goodnight,” Barnabas said, his fist hitting the pirate square between the eyes. He looked up as his opponent slumped to the ground, grinning as he looked in Alchemy’s direction. “You get lost?”

“Took on a break room,” Alchemy said, returning the grin. “I needed to stretch my legs.”

“Already trying to sleep on the job, huh?” Barnabas replied. Then he cocked his head to one side as the thunder of hoofsteps coming down the hallway after Alchemy began to rise. “Looks like they didn’t like that.”

“Yeah,” Alchemy said as he turned and eyed the rest of the room. It wasn’t much—just more storage space half-filled by crates of food or other gear. The sound of oncoming hoofsteps grew louder, competing with a mechanical sounding rumble emanating from the rear of the room as he stepped to one side and began tugging on one of the crates. “Where are Blade and Frost?”

“Scouting ahead,” Hain said as he hopped up on the crate Alchemy was tugging on. “Checking for a good place for the bomb.”

“Right.” The stack of crates began to tip, slowly at first, but then the whole pile fell crashing down, the deck shaking underhoof as the pile crashed to the floor … right across the doorway.

“That’ll slow ‘em,” Barnabas said, scooping the bomb up in his hands and making his way out the room’s rear exit. “Come on!”

The cause of the mechanical noises became clear as they moved into the next room. Metal walls flanked them, heavily marked by warning messages and maintenance hatches. They were passing into the mechanical underpinnings of the ship now, the collection of areas dedicated to the gearage for side sails, main sails, and even the steering vanes. The deck vibrated underhoof as behind the thin metal walls, gears and rods shook and clicked together, controlling the more vital parts of the ship. It was like walking through a giant clock.

“Here!” came Blade’s voice from up ahead. The maintenance hallway began to widen, opening up into a small, loud, dimly lit hub space that served to offer multiple routes deeper into the ship’s mechanical innards. Blade herself was standing in the center of the room, shoving a body out of the way with one claw. “Right here!” she called again, tapping the center of the room. “It’s perfect!” Behind her, Frost appeared out of one of the dark hallways to other areas of the ship’s workings, her bow at the ready. “Rear is clear!” she shouted at them.

The bomb landed on the deck with a heavy bang as Barnabas dropped it, the metal squeal as he shoved it into place barely audible over the loud sounds of the clockwork around them. Small, reinforced metal slats folding out of the sides at a touch, and the group wasted no time in securing the bomb to the floor, screwing it into place and then snapping off the screw heads with a quick twist.

A loud bang and a shout echoed up the causeway behind them. “Frost,” Hain said. “Guard the hall.” The mare nodded, lifting her bow as she moved into the accessway, her bow floating in front of her with an arrow nocked.

She was back a moment later, a worried look on her face. “They blocked the entrance off,” she said. “Toppled some crates over it.”

Alchemy glanced at Hain and raised one eyebrow. “Just like we did to them,” he said. “Why would they do that? They’re making it hard to get at us.”

“Maybe not,” Hain said, glancing up at the ceiling and then looking at the rest of the passages. “Maybe they’re just planning something different.”

“Well, they’re giving us the time we need,” Barnabas said as he flipped the lid of the bomb casing open, exposing the deceptive-looking inside. A collection of metal shielding assembled around a circular, four-legged object settled over the core of the bomb like a spider. Each of the four legs corresponded with a small, circular opening on the top of the bomb, though the legs themselves were too wide to fit in the holes themselves. There were four thick metal rods with glass tips carefully stowed along the top of the lid, each a dull, flat grey. As Barnabas lifted the spider away and picked the first of the rods up, clipping it into place on the end of the spider’s leg, Alchemy wondered exactly which part of the bomb the glitter had been used in. Was it the bomb’s core? Or was it in the reactive metal rods? Titus hadn’t specified. In fact, she’d deliberately made a point of telling him she wouldn’t tell him when he’d asked.

Plus, she couldn’t tell me if the bomb’s blast was going to have an effect on my potions, he thought as Barnabas slotted another rod into place, the faint click barely audible over the rumble of the ship’s innards. Though I don’t think it would. The rest of the group had fanned out a little, their eyes on the rest of the room. He followed their lead, turning his back to Barnabas and watching the rest of the room—though he kept his eyes away from the slumped form of the maintenance pony lying in the corner. He didn’t want to think about that.

Well, if we’re out of range, I shouldn’t have to find out what effect it has, if any, he thought, fixing his eyes on one of the dark accessways to deeper into the ship. Speaking of which, he thought as he probed at the diminished feeling of power in his chest. I should probably take another dose soo—

The brief absence of light at his side was the only warning he got. He twisted his head as something drove itself into his side, parting through flesh and muscle with wicked ease. He had a brief glimpse of a terrifying, sadistic grin, beneath a pair of ruthless, green eyes … and then the figure was gone, a purple-and-black void taking her place and appearing to suck the light away. He slumped to the side as the figure vanished, pain erupting up across his chest as blood began to leak out of the deep wound. He knew what he’d seen even before Frost began to shout, alerting everyone else to the danger.

“Shadow!” she screamed, turning, her bow coming up even as the same strange purple-and-black not-flash distorted the air behind her. The newly arrived unicorn assassin lashed out with her magically-held blade, barely missing Frost’s flank as she turned. Frost fired, but the mare vanished again, the arrow shooting through the space where she had just been.

The rest of the team was moving now, the bomb forgotten as the assassin appeared again, this time to one side of Hain. Her thin weapon jabbed out, barely missing Hain’s upper foreleg and sliding off of his armor. Then she vanished again, her horn glowing with a strange purple energy as she winked out of place.

His potion reserve was gone, burned out before it could repair the majority of the damage. He could still feel blood leaking out of his side, pooling beneath him, and now the rest of his body was starting to feel the effects of both the blood loss and the lack of potion.

I have to do this right, he thought, reaching into his harness. In the right order. The right … order.

The shadow appeared again, this time alongside Blade, her long, thin weapon arcing out and leaving a long, red slash up the griffon’s side. Blade let out an ear-piercing shriek, rounding on the cloaked assassin, but the mare simply reappeared on her opposite side, her weapon ready to slash again. One of Frost’s arrows cut through the air, nearly catching the mare in the side of her head, and she snarled, her face twisting with rage as she vanished.

“Traitor …” The voice echoed out from the mechanicals around them, bouncing around the room. “You deny your own species, betrayer.”

“My species is pony, moron,” Frost said, mist spilling over her body as she turned, her eyes searching the room’s corners.

“I will kill you all,” the shadow said, her voice still bouncing from place to place. “For the glory of King Sombra and the superior species. Including you, betrayer.”

“I’d be more impressed if I hadn’t heard that a few times before,” Frost said, her voice cutting back into the darkness. “You know how many of your little club I’ve gotten rid of?” She nodded her head towards Barnabas, and the minotaur crouched, lifting the metal spider once more and grabbing another rod. Alchemy slipped a blood-restoration potion out of his harness and tugged the cork away with his teeth, trying to ignore the shaking that was moving into his limbs. The potion tasted bitter as it slid down his throat, made his stomach cramp as it hit it.

“Have you ever faced a shadow before?” the mare’s voice continued. “You have no idea what I’m—”

“Faced and killed,” Frost said, her voice rising over the mare’s. “You’re assassins. The hardest part about killing you ...” she said, turning and facing one of the accessways. “Is just figuring out where you’re hiding.”

“Wrong!” The air above Barnabas rippled, the mare dropping out of the air with her blade aimed right at his head, her tightly-wrapped dark cloak faintly rippling from the teleport. But Frost’s brother was already moving, jerking backwards while slamming the bomb case shut. Frost spun as the shadow let out a shout of surprise, her arrow flying loose and scraping along the assassin’s flank before she teleported again.

“What’s the matter, shadow?” Frost asked as another arrow appeared in her bow. “Scared? Never been hurt before?”

Alchemy pulled another vial free of his harness, moving slowly as the shadow warped back into the room, the air rippling as she appeared and reappeared, striking out at every member of the team. The sounds of the machinery faded as shouts, yells, and the sharp shriek of weapons playing across one another and across armor began to fill the room.

Come on … Alchemy thought as he watched a thin red line speed across Frost’s muzzle, the shadow warping away before the mare could fire back. Just a few more seconds … He could feel the effect of the blood-restorer now, speeding through his system. The cramping sensation in his stomach faded, and he downed the next vial, letting out a sigh of relief as the spicy mixture hit his stomach and then rushed through his body. The pain in his side began to burn even hotter, and he gritted his teeth together as the pain made him want to cry out.

“Come on Shadow,” Frost said, circling with her bow held high. “You’re not doing anything your dead cohorts haven’t done. You’re arrogant, you’re egotistical …” The air rippled to one side and she turned, only for the mare to appear to her other side, her blade arcing out and and cutting clean through Frost’s bowstring. The mare grinned as Frost turned, the long thin blade coming up on a path to slice clean through her throat. Alchemy tried to push himself up, but the potion hadn’t done its work yet, and he felt himself stumble rather than rising. Hain and Blade seemed equally caught by surprise, both of them twisting towards Frost, but it was obvious that neither of them would get there before the shadow struck.

Then Frost’s arrow shot forward, wrapped in a soft, purple aura, and buried itself in the shadow’s throat. The mare stumbled back, gagging as she dropped her weapon to the ground.

“You’re predictable,” Frost said, stepping forward and summoning another arrow into her hoof. The shadow looked on with wide, disbelieving eyes as Frost buried the arrow in her chest, and then she sank to the ground, her last breath wheezing out in a watery gurgle.

“King … Sombra …” she whispered, and then her face went slack, her head dropping to one side.

“That was planned,” Blade said.

Frost nodded. “They always go for the bowstring. They’re so used to taking on ponies who aren’t magic users, they don’t stop to think that I can pull some of the same tricks they do.” Her horn glowed as she lifted the mare’s weapon. It was a long, thin metal shaft with what looked like a scalpel blade at the end.

“Plus,” Frost said as she tossed the weapon atop the mare’s body. “They’re a little big on style. It’s an ego-supremacy thing.” She turned and looked in Alchemy’s direction. “You okay?”

“Fine,” he said, pushing himself up as the pain in his side finally faded. “She got me pretty good, but I had some extra potion.” He could feel it burning inside him once more, the same swelling sense of power that told him he’d be all right for a while. “Anypony else hurt?”

“Nothing I can’t handle,” Blade said. Hain nodded in agreement.

“Just surface wounds,” Barnabas added, lifting the lid of the bomb once more and grabbing the last glass-tipped rod. “At least now we know why they tried to block us in here.”

“Yeah,” Blade said. “Should make for a real surprise when we bust out of here, shouldn’t it?”

“We should still be careful,” Alchemy said, and several eyes snapped in his direction. “One of them had a revolver.”

“Right,” Blade said, her eyes narrowing. “In that case, that’s the priority target for all of us. Frost, are you any good with barrier spells? That’s the best way to deal with a bullet.”

She shook her head, the thin line of red from the cut across her muzzle standing out against her light, ice-blue coat. “Not very. That’s one thing I’ve never been good at. I can make ice hard enough to block one though.”

“How easily?” Hain asked as Barnabas clicked the last rod into place and then positioned the device over the bomb core.

“Not easily,” Frost replied.

“Well, we have the advantage,” Alchemy said as the last of the pain in his side faded. “They probably think we’re dying in here.”

“Well then,” Blade said, grinning. “As long as they don’t figure out how we got in here, we should be …” Her smile faded. “Ooh, okay, we might want to move fast. Barnabas?”

“Got it.” He shoved the spider down with one palm, the metal rods vanishing into the depths of the bomb core. There was a faint cracking sound as the spider came to rest, the glass tips on each of the rods shattering, followed by a hissing as the components of the bomb began to fuse. The hissing faded after a moment, but they’d all been told what that sound meant. The materials were fusing. The explosion was coming.

They had minutes.

“Move!” Blade shouted, pointing towards the exit. “Same way we came in. Barnabas, smash that barrier down! Alchemy, follow him through and lay out anybody in that room that isn’t one of our own. No one stops, everyone gets out!”

“On it!” Barnabas sheathed his greataxe and began to run down the hall towards the distant crates, his speed building with every step. “Frost! Hit me!”

The unicorn obliged, a bolt of magic firing down the hall and hitting Barnabas in the back. He let out a deafening yell as his body reacted, swelling slightly in response.

Clever, Alchemy thought as he began to run after the charging figure. Minotaurs resist magic, overcharging their own body when they get hit. She’s setting off his natural defenses so he’s got more power.

Ahead of him, Barnabas let out a roar, picking up one final burst of speed and tucking his head close to his body. There was a titanic crash as the full-tilt minotaur slammed into the crates at top speed, and then the air was filled with screams as he continued on, smashing through several shocked looking pirates and carrying them into the far wall. Alchemy boiled out of the opening moments later, his eyes scanning the room and looking for the closest threat.

There! The grey minotaur he’d seen before was standing by one of the other doorways, his hand coming up, the shiny metal of the revolver clutched in it. Alchemy’s attack caught him completely off guard, the gun flying from the pirate’s hand as he struck. The minotaur’s jaw dropped, only to slam shut as Alchemy cracked his hoof into it. He hit the pirate three more times before he landed, then smiled with satisfaction as the dazed-looking minotaur slumped to the ground. Barnabas dashed past him into the hall, and he took a quick glance back to see the final pirate surrendering as Blade, Frost, and Hain all barreled into the room.

Smart, assuming he heads for the lifeboats, Alchemy thought as he sped down the hall after Barnabas. The minotaur’s appearance seemed to have caught the remaining pirates completely by surprise. Screams and shouts of panic mixed with bellows of pure satisfaction as Barnabas let loose, trampling his way down the hallway and rounding the corner leaving piles of stunned, surprised pirates in his wake. Alchemy followed, clobbering the few who looked like they were getting up as they passed.

Barnabas’s roar followed all the way into the storage room they’d accessed, where it ended in the shout of surprise. Alchemy rounded the corner, his eyes widening in shock as he saw who was standing near the hatch they’d used to climb aboard, one hand in the air with one of their skiff’s rowers pointing a crossbow at him.

“Ennuis?”

The red minotaur’s eyes narrowed in anger as they locked with Alchemy’s. “You!” he said, his arm shaking in his cast. “You broke my arm! And my finger! And you broke my ship!”

“Actually, that was me,” Blade said as she stepped around the corner, Frost and Hain right behind her. “I beached your boat.”

“It was a ship!”

“And I broke your finger,” Blade said, motioning for the minotaur to step up next to the wall. “Make a big deal out of it and I’ll break another one.”

“You … you’ll never get away from here alive,” Ennuis said, his face twisting with rage. “You can’t escape! We’ll blow you apart the moment you try to leave.”

“We’ll see,” Blade said, motioning to the rest of the team. “Come on, guys. We need to be gone before that bomb goes off.”

“Bomb?” Ennuis said, his eyes going wide. “What bomb?”

“The bomb,” Blade said as Frost and Hain hopped down into the skiff. “What did you think we were here for? A tour? We armed a bomb. This thing’s going bang in about two minutes.”

“What?” Ennuis’s eyes grew even wider.

“You heard her,” Alchemy said, grinning. Seeing the big minotaur panic after the way he’d sauntered around Ruffian’s Wharf, well … It was a little satisfying. “Better start looking for a life boat.”

“I ... “ Ennuis seemed at a loss for words, his face switching from anger to shock and back again as Blade motioned for the rower and his crossbow to hop down. “Take me with you?” he asked at last.

Alchemy shot a quick glance at Blade and then they both shook their heads. “Sorry. No room for Bloodhooves,” Blade said as she stood over the hatch. “Bye!”

“Hey, you can’t—” Ennuis jumped forward as Alchemy dove down the opening, dropping headfirst and making sure to grab the bottom hatch and slam it shut as he went. The heavy thud followed by muffled cursing as he hit the deck of the longboat told him he’d guessed right.

“Go!” Blade shouted, cutting one of the forward lines. “Cut the rear lines and let’s move!” She began tugging on the last forward line, the one that was attached furthest away, and the bottom of the Behemoth began to slide by, slowly at first, but then faster and faster as everyone began to pitch in, tugging as hard as they could.

“Drop the weights the moment we clear the bottom!” Blade called. The skiff shot out from beneath the dreadnought and into the moonlight, jumping away from the ice and lifting up to its normal operating height as one of the rowers cut the lead weights free of the hull. Shouts of surprise rang out from above as the skiff’s sail snapped up, catching the wind and pulling them away at a quick clip.

“Now comes the risky part,” Blade said as the shouts from Behemoth grew more organized. “Do they fire and blow us off the ice before that bomb goes off, or—?”

A muffled boom swept across the ice as the back end of the dreadnought bulged, doors, windows and sides blowing out in a gout of smoke and flame. Alchemy felt something sweep through him, almost like an electrical shock. The glitter surge.

For a moment he wondered if the bomb hadn’t done its job, if the dreadnought was merely going to be damaged, not destroyed, when, slowly at first, but then with increasing speed, the rear end of the Behemoth began to drop.

Screams rang out across the ice as the rear end of the ship crashed into the surface of the Ocean with a horrific groan, a moan of agony that resonated through every particle of Alchemy’s fur. Then there was a deafening crack, a gaping hole opening across the dreadnought’s hull as the ship split partway up the middle. Another explosion erupted out of the back end, this time scattering planks of wood all across the ice. Lifeboats began to drop from the sides, Bloodhooves streaming across the deck and trying to escape the oncoming doom.

Then the back end lifted as the ice shifted beneath it, tilting and twisting as the Ocean fought back against the intrusion. A wall of ice lifted one corner into the air, twisting the tear amidship even further and sending a few unlucky pirates tumbling from the sides. Then the ice dropped, bringing the rear of the ship crashing down once more, flames pouring out of its ports as the entire superstructure crumpled down under its own weight. Pegasi took to the skies, risking flight and death by exposure rather than stay aboard the doomed vessel.

A series of explosions rocked the far side, fire and flame spewing out into the night as an ammo supply detonated. More explosions followed, mingled with screams and the inexorable groan of the ice as it continued to pound against the back end of the ship. One of the forward lift plates, damaged by the blast, failed, and the remainder of the ship sunk even lower.

“That’s a pretty sight,” Barnabas said as another ammo supply began to explode, shells and powder detonating in a chain of blasts that ripped the ship in two. “We might have just shifted the balance of power on the Ocean forever.”

“As long as that balance is in our benefit,” Blade said, eyeing the distant wreck as it crumbled, torn apart by detonations and the incessant movement of the ice. “Next, we head for the Pinnacle.”

“And tonight?” Alchemy asked, unable to pull his eyes away from the already distant destruction. He had to admit, it did look pretty cool. Really cool, in fact.

“Tonight?” Blade let out a chuckle. “We get picked up, go tell Titus the good news, and then party like the heroes we are.”

“And it’ll be quite the party,” Barnabas said. “Trust me. We just made Captain Titus the happiest minotaur on the Ocean. Well, next to me for making it out with my skin intact.” He let out a long, low laugh. “Thousands can sleep easy with that thing gone.”

Alchemy took one last look at the distant burning wreckage. Heroes, huh? The term felt uneasy, oddly placed considering what they’d just done. But then again, they’d done something good. There was no arguing that there were any remotely good things coming of the dreadnought. Not with who was at the helm.

Still … Heroes. Crazy. Insane. But heroes. Maybe. He smiled as one of the rowers began to let out a cheer, and then joined in, his own voice echoing across the ice. Blade and Barnabas joined in as well, followed by Hain and then Frost, their combined cheers echoing across the ice.

Heroes or not, that was insane. But it was a good thing. And also … He let out a soft laugh as his thoughts came to a head.

It had been fun. Crazy, insane, maybe even a little grim. But they’d made the Ocean a better place, and he couldn’t argue with that. Even if he still felt a little odd thinking about—No, he reminded himself. It’s a battle. That’s how they go.

A distant boom echoed across the ice, and he found himself grinning alongside the rest of the team. No, they’d done what they’d had to, himself included. And they’d lived.

Now they just had to focus on the real battle. The Pinnacle was waiting.

And he was ready.

Count of Laws Broken: 0
Total Laws Broken: 63
Damage Value (In Bits): 287,672
Total Damage Value (In Bits): 390,881

Chapter 14 - Rally Point

View Online

Southeast of the Pinnacle

Blade had to admit, as small as it was, the combined fleet of both the Cragtooth and Teardrop forces made for a pretty impressive sight. Just over a dozen airships drifted on the wind around them; corvettes and frigates all arrayed in formation near the Seeker of Dawn, each waiting for the sun to rise. She could see griffons moving across the well-lit decks, shouting orders at one another and prepping the ships for the battle ahead. Each vessel mirrored the others as teams of soldiers drilled, made last minute checks, and otherwise prepared for the battle ahead.

Hundreds of feet below, the Cragtooth naval fleet was spread out in a similar manner, almost two dozen ships arrayed across the groaning ice. All were showing a similar flurry of activity beneath flickering lights, as various crews went to work prepping the vessels for battle.

This is it, Blade thought as she turned toward the rear of the Seeker, eying the eastern horizon. The fleet was set up to approach the pinnacle from the southeast to give their forces the cover of the sun and make it harder for the Pinnacle’s defenders to engage them. In just a few minutes, the sun is going to rise, and then the whole fleet is going to start moving.

She took a quick look again around the deck. The high-speed frigate was a model of efficiency: The few griffons that were out were clearly busy with something, be that last minute rope checks or making sure that the equipment lockers were properly stocked. There was even a single griffon going around the deck counting out the crossbow bolts and bullets in each of the ammunition bins, making sure that each one was loaded according to its position on deck and relative usefulness in battle. For a clan that was no longer empire-affiliated, she had to admit that they were doing a pretty good job at putting on the pretense of being a well-trained military force, if nothing else.

They’ve also managed to build a pretty sweet ship, she thought as she looked up towards the raised forward deck. Frost and Barnabas were sitting up near the bow, chatting about something as they both prepped for the battle ahead. Barnabas was wearing the same light armor he’d borrowed for the raid on the Behemoth, though he’d apparently dug up some dye somewhere and gone to work. The metal was painted a dark blue almost identical to his pelt, probably so it’d be much harder for attackers to figure out what was shielded and what wasn’t. There was, however, a series of distinct tally marks scratched along one side of his chest, just below his shoulder.

Probably just for intimidation, she thought. But then, I wouldn’t doubt those numbers are real.

Beside Barnabas, Frost seemed almost like an afterthought, though Blade knew that wasn’t the case. The mare was wearing nothing but a light harness of padded cloth, similar to the combat harness that Alchemy had taken to wearing, but covering more than just her chest, expanding to stretch down her back in addition to running along each of her legs. The strange design almost made it look as if she’d painted lines across her body to outline her build. Blade had already asked her about the purpose, and Frost had simply said that it was “Something she’d been working on for a while and was ready to test out.” Whatever it was, the answer had been satisfying enough.

She’s got her talents, Blade thought as Barnabas let out a loud laugh that echoed across the Seeker’s deck. I’ll trust her to them. That was part of being a team as near as she could tell; trusting them to make the right decisions and knowing when to step in. Luckily, these guys seem pretty good at that.

She gave the rest of the ship a quick look, watching as the crew went about their checks. The ship held a fairly straightforward design, with the armored gondola resting beneath the heavy envelope as was traditional. Boilers and propulsion, as well as crew quarters, took up the rear of the ship, while the center was dedicated to more crew space as well as a raised bridge that was the highest point on the gondola, giving the captain a superior view. What was lost in upward awareness was remedied both by an armored defensive position on the top of the rigid, armored envelope that could relay information down, as well as several outrigger positions along the lower sides of the airship.

From there, the bridge dropped away to the main combat deck where she was standing, a long, level space bristling with four large, armored ballista emplacements, or wing turrets. Since the Seeker was a courier frigate, the ballistas were actually a bit further back than she was used to and had a smaller firing arc in order to reduce drag, but they were still dangerous. Plus, at a quick look it appeared that the two rearward turrets had been angled ever so slightly toward the stern of the vessel, in order to protect the more vulnerable rear. When the battle started, all four turrets would be charged with protecting the Seeker’s sides.

Meanwhile, near the bow, the deck rose to make room for the two forward-facing weapons that made up the ship’s primary weapons compliment. While the rise allowed for extra forward armor, and provided an added bonus of keeping wind away from the main deck, its primary purpose was to house, shield, and store the two sixty-millimeter guns along with their ammunition supplies.

How long did they save to afford those? she wondered as one of the doors to the gun emplacements opened, a talon commander with gunnery officer’s colors on his wings striding out onto the deck. Cartridge-based weaponry was still highly cost-prohibitive, something helped along in part by how jealously the few companies that were working on it guarded their designs. Kalos had given her a quick tour of the Seeker the day before while the fleet had been in transit, and the twin heavy cannons had been one of the first things he’d shown her … Though even he wouldn’t go into the price.

“Hey.”

The call pulled her attention away from the front of the ship, and she turned to see Alchemy walking towards her. “Hey yourself,” she replied as he walked up. “You ready?”

He nodded and tapped at his combat harness with one hoof. “Yep. Even spent a few hours last night cooking up some helpful potions. Including, I might add, a very expensive universal antidote.” She cocked one eyebrow at him and he continued. “Just in case one of the shadows has a poisoned blade. Apparently it’s not their style, but Frost said that their leader resorts to it sometimes.”

Blade nodded. It was a smart preparation. “How expensive?”

“Let’s just say I might be adding a few hundred bits worth of glitter to my final bill for this job,” Alchemy said as he trotted up to the gunwale and rested his hooves on the railing. “This looks pretty amazing,” he said, staring out and then down at the rest of the fleet.

“Yeah,” Blade said, lifting her talons up onto the rail next to his hooves and letting her own eyes wander across the distant fleet. “It’s hard to believe that this all just started out as a bunch of pirates getting together and the offshoots of an ill-fated colonization attempt. Granted, that’s how a lot of countries start.”

“Really?” Alchemy asked, pulling his eyes away from the distant scene and looking at her.

She nodded. “Not entirely, but it’s close enough. Historically, if an area isn’t settled with backing from an existing form of government, you start out with a bunch of smaller, independent places that start working more and more closely together. Eventually, most of them start looking to streamline or simplify things for one reason or another, and they form a government. Kind of like what’s happening here.”

“It sounds like you know a lot about it,” Alchemy said.

She let out a laugh. “Yeah, I’m a bit of a history buff. Mostly for military history, but I spread my reading out a little bit. Don’t tell anyone though. It could ruin my reputation as a hard-headed, wandering claw.” She smiled.

“I won’t,” he said, returning her smile with a grin. “Why study it, though?”

“Perspective,” she said, shrugging. “It started out as a personal interest in military history, since I figured it’d help me with my goals. So I started reading up on wars, ancient battles, stuff like that. Not exactly hard when you’re growing up in the empire, not with our history. Of course,” she said, crossing her forelegs and resting her head on them. “You can’t learn about that stuff too deeply without digging into the politics and the history surrounding it, so I started reading into that too.”

“What was your goal in the first place?”

“Believe it or not, to be a blademaster,” she said, giving him a grin. “I decided on it pretty early on after I joined my clan’s military. It just wasn’t for me. But a blademaster?” She grinned. “Travel the world, be one of the most elite recognized fighters in the empire.”

Alchemy nodded. “How close are you? I mean,” he said, stammering. “I don’t know how you become a blademaster, but—”

She shook her head. “It’s actually kind of easy and kind of hard all in one. All you have to do is defeat three current blademasters in combat. Granted, it has to be an official challenge, and they won’t exactly go easy on you, since they’re a pretty tough bunch and don’t want that reputation getting pulled down by anyone, but still. All you have to do is beat three of them.”

“Have you …?” Alchemy’s question seemed to trail off.

“I’ve beaten two,” she said. “Bıçak ustası Silverbeak and bıçak ustası Sternshadow.”

“Still looking for a third, huh?” he asked.

“Actually, I found one,” she said. “He beat me.”

“Oh,” Alchemy said, his eyes widening a little. “Sorry.”

“For what?” she asked, looking at him. “He beat me fair and square. It just means I need to get better, that’s all. Or maybe go track down one of the blademasters he beat. Still,” she said, tapping her claws against the railing. “Honestly, it didn’t turn out that bad. That fight was … it …” She let her words trail off as her mind rolled back to that night. “It was a bad situation all around. The job I was on put me in a real difficult spot.”

“Outnumbered?”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “Just … let’s just say it wasn’t a decision I want to make again.”

“Anything good come out of it?”

“I got this job,” she said, looking at him once more. “And so far, I think that’s turned out all right.” Especially since it gives me chance to balance things out after how that went, she thought. “Plus, it did give me a new perspective.”

“Really?” Alchemy asked. “What on?”

“More like who,” she said, her eyes sliding over towards the distant shape of the Strike of Dawn. The destroyer was far enough away that she couldn’t make out the identities of the individual griffons aboard her, but she knew Hain was one of them, checking over the final plans for the offensive and making last minute changes with Titus and Arcwing. Despite what he’d said about not wanting to be the leader of the team, that clearly didn’t apply to his itch for other commands. “Hain, actually. Before my last job and that fight … I probably wouldn’t have seen him in the same light as I do now. I’d always just gone along with what everyone else said about him, but now that I’ve had to make a similar choice …”

“What’d he do?”

She turned back towards Alchemy. There was a curious look of genuine interest on his face, a look that said there was nothing vengeful or ungrateful about the question past simple, honest curiosity.

“Do you really want to know?” she asked, looking back out towards the Strike of Dawn. “You could just ask him.”

“I tried that,” Alchemy said, his voice sounding slightly hurt. “He blew me off before I could finish asking the question.”

She nodded. It wasn’t surprising news, though she could see why he was bothered by it. “I can’t say I’m surprised. It’s not something he likes talking about. I was hoping he would have eased up a bit about it, but …” She shook her head. “I can’t blame him for not letting up on it. I can’t even imagine how it would feel to be in his place; the choice I had to make was a lot easier to make than his was, and that one was hard enough.”

She let out another sigh and then turned to take a quick look around the deck. There was no one nearby. “You really want to know?”

“Well,” he said, “not if it it’s something terrible.”

“Right,” she said, nodding. “Personally, kind of yes, kind of no. Hain was a general during the last set of regency wars in the empire.”

“That’s where—?”

“The clans basically go to organized war over who the new ruling clan and king is going to be, right,” she said, nodding. “Hain used to be a general. A brilliant one. When the last regency war broke out, his clan, which is one of the ones right near the capital, sided with the current king. Which was all well and good, but the current king started to lose. Long story short, Hain got put in a position where he was bound to obey the commands of his superior officer, commands he knew would get his entire army massacred. The griffon he was answering to refused to let the battle be determined by trial of combat, and ordered Hain to win a fight … which as near as I could tell, he knew he would win, but at the cost of decimating both sides to the point where it wouldn’t be worth it.”

“So what’d he do?” Alchemy asked. “Resign?”

“He couldn’t,” Blade said, shaking her head. “The honor laws that run the empire … They’re odd to some, and they have their place, but because of the way they work he couldn’t resign without facing stiff penalties as per his contract. Besides, it wasn’t about him, it was about the loss of life, at least as I understand it.”

“So what’d he do?”

“He … He committed the ultimate taboo in griffon society,” she said. “Moments before the battle he called his superior out and gave the order for his forces to surrender. When his superior tried to force him to comply, he killed him. The collapse of the northern flank left the entire army open to attack, and the regency war was over. The new king took the crown from the old one’s claws two days later.”

“So he turned the course of the war,” Alchemy said.

“No,” she replied, shaking her head. “The war was already lost. He just admitted it, turned on his superior, and violated the honor laws of the entire empire. Honor laws our whole culture has been built on.”

“So they exiled him?”

She shook her head again. “It’s more than exile, Alchemy. He had everything stripped from him—his money, his belongings … Anything that came from the empire. The only thing he kept was that knife, because he’d won it off of a minotaur mercenary while outside of the empire and therefore it wasn’t the empire’s to take. The even took his name. Hain means ‘traitor’ in our language. His own family had to expunge him from their history, and everything he’d ever contributed to the empire was either downplayed or erased. I only know who he is because of outside coverage of the event.”

“That’s insane,” Alchemy said, a look of shock etched across his face. “You can’t … for … what possibly—?”

“Trust me, the system we have in the Empire is there for a reason,” she said, cutting him off. “The reason the penalties are so high in the first place is to keep us from acting like we used to: Warlike clans always at each others throats, always betraying one another and fighting for every advantage. We were warmongers once, Alchemy. Violent, self-centered, honorless killers who went after everything and anything. And maybe I’m exaggerating a little bit, but you get my point. It wasn’t until King Tallcliff the First that we really banded together and found more to life than simply living and fighting. Still,” she said as she turned back to look toward the distant destroyer. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned looking over history, it’s that sometimes even the best systems aren’t perfect. We’ve got our flaws. So do our systems. That doesn’t mean I think what happened is okay, but it does mean I don’t know what I would have done about it.”

“I know it sounds harsh,” she said, turning to stare back out at the ice. “But it’s what’s kept our culture intact for over a thousand years. It wasn’t until I found myself in a similar situation that I realized exactly how trapped Hain must have felt. And I had an out, a way I could cheat and get around my employers wishes. Hain? He … he didn’t have that option. At least, not that I know of. If there had been one, he would have taken it.”

“No wonder he’s touchy about it,” Alchemy said. “I thought Hain was just his name.”

“Well, it is,” Blade said. “Or now it is. I don’t know what his original name was. It’s been wiped from the histories. Only a few griffons would even know.”

“Like the Patriarch?”

“Yeah,” Blade said, nodding. “Like Patriarch Arcwing. Trust me though, don’t ask Hain about it. He’s still holding to his punishment, as you might have noticed. I think as far as he’s concerned, that name died when he made his choice. He knew he was making it.”

“It still sounds harsh,” Alchemy said. “I mean really harsh. Can he even communicate with his family?”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “An exile isn’t allowed to set foot inside the empire, or send messages through it unless it’s through an intermediary, and even then his family would lose honor if they were found to have accepted such.”

“That’s … horrible.”

“It could have been less so,” she said, still staring out at the ice. “Part of it was just because of how big a deal it was and how he did it. For example, if I walked away from this job without cashing in on one of my outs, I’d lose any claim at becoming a blademaster, no matter how good I was, and lose all credibility in the empire. I’d have to report to a disciplinary council. I doubt I’d be exiled, but breaking contract like that would be grounds for pulling my eligibility as a wandering claw.”

“Can they enforce that?”

She nodded. “Inside the empire? Sure. And if word gets out that you’re not a trustworthy griffon, well … it’s not easy to get hired. Don’t take it wrong, there’s balances built into the system. Basically, damage I do on my job is the responsibility of my employer as long as I act within my contract. My last job, the one in Equestria, for example. I broke a bunch of laws holding up my contract. But Equestria recognizes that I was doing such under orders from my contract holder. Every nation acknowledges them differently, but by default, most of the punishments for what I was doing fell on my employers, since I was under contract.”

“So you got off completely free?”

“What?” she threw her head back and laughed. “Are you kidding? You heard how I wrecked that train, right?”

“Well, yeah, you’re right. I didn’t think that one through.”

“Relax,” she said, giving his shoulder a light punch. “Our laws are weird. I get that. Anyway, the punishment for stuff like that in Equestria, since they do seem to frown on the system, is deportation for a set number of years.”

“They kick you out?” he asked, surprised.

“Hey, those rulers of yours can only take so much. Besides, I think it’s a way for them to keep there from being too many griffons taking advantage of that fact. You still have to appear before the courts and get your sentencing and what-not.”

“Oh,” Alchemy said. “So how long are you supposed to stay out for?”

She flashed him a grin, spreading her wings in pride. “I don’t know. I got my new contract before the sentencing ever happened, so I broke out and got to work.” She held her grin for a moment and then joined in as Alchemy began laughing.

“Really?” he asked. “You mean they were chasing you because you didn’t stick around for a sentencing hearing? That would have deported you?”

“Hey, I was busy!” she said, still grinning. “Who knew how long that was going to take? I had a job to do. And deporting is back to your home country, so they would have sent me right back to the empire, which would have made getting here take even longer and the trail could have gone cold.”

“Except you were after a unicorn on the Ocean,” Alchemy pointed out.

“Well, in my defence I didn’t know that at the time,” she said. “I spent a day or two covertly tracking leads and learning what I could about the Ocean—plus laying low—before I made my move.”

“You still had to hijack a train though.”

“Well, that was plan B,” she said, smirking. “Plan A fell through.”

“The way you say that makes me keep wondering when you’re planning on that happening here.” He grinned as she shot a glare at him.

“Pretty uppity for a respectable alchemist,” she said, shaking her head. Alchemy just grinned.

For a minute they were both silent, each of them watching the distant fleet as the early light of morning began to slowly brighten, the thin clouds overhead changing from cold, silvery-grey to a warmer, pinker fluff that looked a bit like cotton candy.

“Any minute now,” Blade said, turning and looking back at the eastern horizon.

“I heard someone telling your cousin that the weather’s looking pretty rough today,” Alchemy said.

“High winds?”

He shook his head, his off-white mane almost bouncing back and forth. “No. Heavy snow.”

“That’ll make the battle a little interesting,” she said, tapping one set of talons together. “Still, that’s probably to our advantage.”

“Yeah.” The deck was quiet again for a moment. Then Alchemy spoke up.

“Could I ask you something?”

“What?”

“Do you really think what you’re getting paid is enough to be trying to stop a cult from bringing back some ancient evil king?” She glanced down at him. The inquiry looked serious enough.

“Honestly …” she said, twisting her head again to make sure no one was around and lowering her voice. “I’m not convinced the cult isn’t just deluding itself.”

“What?” he said, his eyes widening. “But you told—”

“I know,” she said, wrapping her talons around his muzzle until he stopped speaking quite so loud. “I told the griffons and Titus that’s what the cult’s plan was and pointed out that their belief was probably based on something. But that doesn’t mean they’re right. I mean, I know there’s a lot of lost history out there, but I’ve never heard of this guy. You?”

“Only in bits and pieces from various cultists here and there,” Alchemy said. “None of it’s very nice.”

“Yeah, well, my client didn’t mention anything about an insane, evil unicorn mega-evil either. For all we know, the cult’s just sitting up in their tower clapping their hooves together over something they think is a key. But …” She ruffled her wings slightly. “Frost did say they were getting pretty active, and, I mean, this is their big head honcho or whatever, so I guess it’s possible. Mare in the moon, right?”

“And if not?”

She gave another shrug. “Then we get our claws, hooves, or whatever on the key later today and we go get paid.”

“And if it is?”

She felt a small shiver run down her spine. Sure, her client had never said that it was a key to King Sombra’s prison … but it had been pointed out to her that it was a key. “Keys are for locks,” she said, quietly.

“What?” Alchemy asked, though she got the feeling it was at the nature of the comment rather than any lack of understanding.

“If it is,” she said, pulling her thoughts together as the tip of the sun appeared on the horizon, its bright rays turning the ice into a brilliant, pink mirror. “And if they know how to open it, then I guess we’d better hurry and stop them before they open it. I mean, who wants to beat up some ancient unicorn king on this paycheck, right?” Her chuckle sounded a little hollow in her ears.

“You think we could?” Alchemy asked.

This time she did grin. “Alchemy,” she said as a flash of light from the side of the Seeker caught the corner of her eye. She turned to see signal lights flashing all up and down the fleet. “Are you kidding? We’ve got an army. Plus us, and we’re pretty capable. I don’t think one evil unicorn is going to make a difference, even if he is all bad and tough.”

Alchemy nodded. Out by the destroyer, a smaller corvette had drifted up to one side, taking on a few passengers. Titus and some of her senior captains, getting ferried back down to their ships. The pirate fleet was already starting to move. It was going to hit the Pinnacle’s defenders first, before the Teardrop fleet arrived. A lone griffon took to their air, flying towards the Seeker. Hain, on his way back.

“Thanks for telling me about Hain,” Alchemy said as they watched.

“Don’t mention it,” Blade said, watching as the signals ceased and the fleet began to break up, each airship shifting position and picking up speed as they moved to their assigned place. “Seriously, don’t. If he knew I’d told you, I could honestly see him wanting to quit. If you let it slip, tell him you read a book or something.”

“Got it.”

“Good.” She rapped her talons against the rail and then looked towards the bow as the Seeker began to move. “Won’t be long now. A few hours.” Alchemy nodded.

She peered off at the horizon, her eyes narrowing as the airship began to pick up speed. Hain dropped down in the middle of the deck, a determined, almost proud look on his face. He gave them each a quick look. “You ready?”

“Ready,” Blade said, nodding. She turned and looked toward the distant northern horizon once more as the Seeker began to pick up speed, its propellers humming. The rising sun was bathing both ocean and sky in a pinkish-orange glow that made it look as if the distant horizon truly was a meeting place of ice and sky in one continuous mass. She grinned.

The fleet was on its way.

Count of Laws Broken: 0
Total Laws Broken: 63
Damage Value (In Bits): 0
Total Damage Value (In Bits): 390,881

Chapter 15 - The Pinnacle

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The Pinnacle

The Seeker rumbled underfoot, bucking and shaking as a dull boom echoed through the compartment. Blade looked up towards the bare, wooden ceiling as its lone light dimmed and then grew brighter once more. “That was a hit,” she muttered, before turning her eyes back to the rest of the group. “Sounds like it’s getting hot out there.”

“It’s a war, kit,” Hain said. He was sitting across from her, casually running the flat of his knife up and down his talons. “Weather notwithstanding, ‘hot’ is kind of the default status.”

“Fine by me,” Barnabas said, shifting in his seat as the Seeker shook again, dropping several feet. “As long as our fire is hotter than the Order’s.” The Seeker rattled again, the floor jerking underfoot as twin thumps echoed through the room. The main guns firing. Hopefully they were taking something down.

The compartment rattled again, a loud bang echoing through the compartment, followed by distant yells from the crew, faint and indistinct against the rumble of the airship itself. Blade looked around the room again, flexing her talons and idly wishing that the eyrie had at least had something approaching a normal dropship. The courier frigate was definitely better armored, but sitting blind inside of it while it maneuvered its way over to the Pinnacle wasn’t exactly comforting.

“Everyone geared up?” she asked again, ignoring the look of absolute disdain Frost gave her at hearing the repeated question.

“Clear,” Alchemy said, tugging at the straps of his carry harness with one hoof. Barnabas and Frost each echoed similar sentiments, pulling at the straps of their own makeshift harnesses.

“Good,” Blade said as the frigate vibrated once more beneath them, wood and metal rattling like a children’s toy. “Make sure they’re good and tight. With the weather out there, the last thing you want to be doing is taking a quick trip to the bottom of the tower because something came loose.” The Seeker jerked again as if to prove her point, rising and dropping like a wild beast.

A door slid to one side as the ship lurched once more, a griffon soldier poking her head into the room, and looking at them. “Just a few more minutes!” she called. “We’re almost close enough to make the drop.”

“Good,” Blade said, grabbing her seat as the Seeker made a particularly violent drop in the air, a long groan echoing down the length of the ship. The griffon at the door wrapped her talons around a handrail set along the wall, her wings flaring out to keep herself from lifting off. “You got any updates for us?”

“Just one!” the griffon shouted as another bang echoed through the ship. “A request from command. If you could find and clear out whatever group of unicorns are responsible for this weather—” The Seeker jerked again, tilting to one side before righting. “We’d really appreciate it,” the griffon finished, pushing her helm back into position. A yell echoed up the hall from behind her, and she gave them a quick grin. “That’s the one minute mark. We’re almost to the Pinnacle!”

“Right!” Blade said, standing as the Seeker shook again, another loud boom echoing through the room and shaking the deck. “Team, let’s get into position.” She steadied herself against the wall as the rest of the group began to make their way towards the door, making use of the handrails every time the ship shook to steady themselves.

“I used to wonder if airships really needed these,” Alchemy said, tapping the rail with one hoof as they moved down the hall. “I guess they do. How do you guys fly in stuff like this?”

“Not easily,” their griffon escort replied as the deck began to pitch to one side beneath them. “Granted, most of the time the weather isn’t this bad.” She reached the end of the hallway and waited by the heavy, armored hatch, one pair of talons on the latch. Blade could hear a steady whine coming from the other side of the hatch, a droning howl that rose and fell as she listened to it. “But if you guys don’t do something about those magic users, it’s going to get a lot worse.”

“Don’t worry,” Frost said, her voice cutting through the air of the hall like a knife. “We will.”

“Good,” the griffon said. She took one last look at each of them. “Hold onto the deck. The last thing we want is for one of you to go flying overboard.”

She tugged the latch down and the distant whine became a roar of wind as the hatch opened, white flakes spiraling into the hallway and whipping past them with incredible speed. Blade narrowed her eyes as she moved forward through the gale and out onto the deck, tucking her wings tight against her body as the air buffeted her with the force of a gale. The Seeker jerked underfoot and she crouched, dropping her center of gravity low as another pair of distant booms echoed off of the bow. She looked up to she snow spiraling away from the front of the ship, a hollow blossoming in the thick air as the Seeker’s guns momentarily overpowered the wind. It didn’t last though. Within seconds, the howling storm had reclaimed the gap, sweeping away the smoke and snow with violent abandon.

Can they even see what they’re shooting at? she wondered as she followed their guide across the deck. The whirling snow was thick enough that she could only make out the faint silhouette of the Pinnacle, a looming, grey spire barely distinct from the snow around it.

We’re close too, she thought as they moved toward the edge of the Seeker. They’re definitely boosting the storm. It wasn’t supposed to be nearly this bad. She came to a stop as she stepped up to the rail, between the two armored ballistas that were both rotating and firing as quickly as they could. A bolt of pure purple emerged from the howling wind and slammed into the side of the ship, a sharp crack echoing through the air and shaking the deck beneath her feet.

“We’re almost there!” their guide called, pointing to the distant shape of the Pinnacle as it became more distinct. “We’re spiraling in, trying to move with the wind. As soon as we get close enough, we’re going to try to blow out a set of windows about halfway up! We do that, your team moves. Clear?”

“Clear!” Blade called back. Her voice vanished into the storm, her words sucked from her mouth by the howling winds. “Just get us close enough to make the distance!”

“We’ll get you as close as we can!” came the reply. “But we can’t hang around here forever!” As if to emphasize her words, another beam swept out of the snow, a loud ping ringing in the air for a second before being covered by the storm. “They’ve still got coverage on the airship docks, so we won’t be able to land you any help until we’ve cleared them out!”

“Got it,” Blade called, glancing back towards the Pinnacle. It was coming closer, features appearing on its surface as the fog of snow faded, and she could see those same features sliding to one side as the Seeker rolled past, tightening its inward path. “If we get an chance, we’ll see what we can do about clearing a landing zone for you.”

“We’d appreciate that!” the aide called back. “We’ve got several corvettes ready to airdrop the moment their defensive line breaks! We can’t do a shock drop with the winds, so if you can stop either, the fleet would really appreciate it!”

“We’ll see what we find first!” Blade said, eying the Pinnacle as it drew closer and closer, filling the sky. This place is massive. It’s like a skyscraper made of a rock. A big one. More bolts of magic were arcing out at them now, but they were close enough to the side of the tower that a number of them missed, cutting out into the white sky.

“This is it!” the griffon said as both ballistas began to turn downwards, spinning on their mounts, their gunnery crews retargeting something below the deck of the ship. Two heavy, powerful thumps shook the deck, one after another as the two weapons fired, heavy bolts shooting downward like spikes. The crews hurried to reload the weapons, two griffons working the cranks while a third lifted the next bolt into place. The gunner fired as soon as the loader was clear, launching another bolt toward the Pinnacle.

“Form up!” Blade called, stepping back from the gunwale. The gunner lifted two talons, signaling his team to load another round as Frost, Barnabas, and Alchemy stepped up to the rail, gripping it with hands or hooves.

The ballistas fired again, the specialized rounds each had been loaded with splitting up as they flew through the air, breaking apart into dozens of smaller, widespread anti-personnel rounds. Blade stepped forward, Hain beside her, and took hold of the handles on the back of the team’s harnesses, clenching her talons into tight fists as she sucked in a breath.

Probably a bad time to start thinking about how I’ve never done this before, she thought as she checked to make sure that both she and Hain had distributed their grip properly. They each had one pair of talons wrapped around Barnabas’s harness, and another pair gripping one of the two ponies. Any second now … She looked over to the gunnery crew, waiting for the signal. The gunner looked up at her, lifted his foreleg, waited a moment ... and then dropped it.

“Go!” She pushed herself forward, spreading her wings as Barnabas, Frost, and Alchemy jumped. Her forelimbs and wings screamed with exertion as the sudden weight tugged at her, pulling her and Hain down through the swirling wind, the world spinning around her as she fought to gain control. Hain matched her movements and the spinning slowed, coming to a stop as they centered their forward momentum on the Pinnacle.

There. She could see the shattered, jagged opening now, the broken remains of the thick, heavy glass that the Seeker’s projectiles had blasted apart. It was rising fast to meet them, and she tilted her wings, fighting the resistance from both the wind and the combined weight of the three sapients she and Hain were struggling to carry.

Come on! Come on! The window was coming up fast. If they missed it, it was going to be a long, quite possibly fatal descent to the ice below. Move! The opening was rushing towards them now, so close she could see some of the anti-personnel bolts embedded in the floor. “Open on my mark!” she called, twisting her wings and praying that she wouldn’t pull every muscle in her body when they made their move. “Mark!”

She snapped her wings to their full extension and fought back a scream as her forelimbs jerked downward, the combined weight making it feel as if every joint in her body was being pulled apart. Come on!

Her wing clipped the top edge of the shattered window as they shot through the gap, feathers and flesh tearing against the sharp glass, and this time she did scream as her wing failed her. She let go of the harnesses, spiraling out across the room and slamming into the floor as Barnabas let out a roar. She rolled, tucking her wings and limbs up close to her body as bits of glass dug into her skin, her head banging against the ground. There was a bright flash, followed by a roar and a sharp, meaty thunk, and then the room was quiet save for the howl of the wind.

“Ow.” She rolled off of her side, ignoring the sharp, burning sensations in her side and the limp feeling of her forelimbs. Her head was spinning, though from the impact or the pain, she wasn’t quite sure. She gave it a quick shake, trying to bump her thoughts back into place.

“Easy,” someone said. The voice was familiar. It took her a moment to place it as an orange hoof cupped her chin. “Here, drink this.” Something was placed on the bottom of her beak, something cool and smooth, and then the hoof pushed her head back, tilting her beak and sending something spilling down into her throat.

A cool, soothing sensation brushed across her mind and suddenly her thoughts seemed much more organized. “Alchemy,” she said, placing the name of the pony holding her head. “Ow.” His hooves moved away as she stood under her own power, rubbing the side of her head. “Thanks.”

Alchemy had already moved away, attending to Hain as the old griffon rose from the ground, glass dropping from his body. Blade turned and gave her own wings a shake, bits and pieces of glass dropping to the ground from her body like crystalline rain.

“Thank you,” she said again as the potion rushed out to her wing and finished its work, feathers regrowing and the gash sealed itself shut. She took a quick look around at the rest of the room. It looked like they’d landed in a wide common area. There was a balcony overhead that ringed the room, and several chairs and tables on their level had been scattered by their arrival. “How long was I out? Is the room clear?”

Barnabas was standing over by the door, his greataxe gripped in both hands. There was a red smear across the blade. “It’s clear,” he said, pointing at something behind her. She turned. There, near the shattered window, was a member of the cult, her body pinned to the floor by two of the anti-personnel bolts. She was clearly dead.

“There was just that one and the one by the door here,” Barnabas said. She turned back to notice that he was standing by a cream-colored lump on the floor that was wrapped in the same robes as the rest of the cult. “You were only stunned for a few seconds.”

Huh, she thought as she looked at the body. No head. Barnabas’s axe had done its work.

“Topside’s clear,” Frost called as she poked her head over the edge of the balcony. “No sign of anypony.”

“Good,” Blade said as thoughts pulled themselves back together. Alchemy was stepping away from Hain, the old griffon pulling himself up from the floor. “Let’s hope we don’t have to do that again anytime soon. Everyone good and ready?” A chorus of nods echoed back at her.

“Right,” she said, stepping towards the door and taking care to pick her way around the shards of broken glass. “Someone’s bound to have heard that. Our arrival won’t be secret for long.” She looked up at the balcony. “Frost, can you tell what direction that weather-altering magic is coming from? Is it close by?”

The mare shook her head. “It’s not close. But it is somewhere above us.”

“Great,” Blade said, nodding. “That works then; we’re going up anyway. We stick together and we make our way up the spiral. We encounter resistance, we take it down fast and quiet. Frost,” she said, looking towards the mare once more. “Keep us up to date on that weather magic. If you think we’re close, let us know.”

“Got it,” she said, her horn glowing as she trotted down the stairs, her bow floating in front of her.

“Let’s—”

The door squeaked open, pulling outward into the hall as a trio of unicorns, their horns each marked with a red tip, strode through the doorway. Blade froze for a second as the trio came to a stunned halt, their eyes going wide and a strained, collective gasp emerging from their throats.

The mutual surprise didn’t last.

With a roar Barnabas swept his axe around, cleaving right through one of the initiate’s shoulders and sending him crashing to the ground. Blade leapt forward even as both of the unicorn’s horns lit, lashing out with poorly aimed magic blasts. The air glowed white-hot next to her face for just a moment, and then she was on the unicorn, her talons lashing out and cutting deep tracks across his chest as she let out a loud shriek.

Alchemy took the last initiate, darting past her so quickly she almost missed it and slamming his shoulder into the unicorn. The blow was heavy enough to lift the unicorn from his hooves, sending him flying back through the air and out of the room.

A shout of alarm rose up from somewhere outside and Hain darted past her, followed by Frost. She finished her initiate off by slamming his head down into the ground with both talons, feeling the faint crunch of bone as something—either his jaw or his nose—came apart. Then she followed the rest of the team out into the grand spiral.

She had to admit, it was grand. She even slowed for a moment, her attention swept up by the hollowed-out inside of the Pinnacle stretched out before her, a wide open space ringed by supportive pillars and the spiraling, wide, rising staircase that made its way around the inside. It was a classic example of a griffon eyrie: protected from the elements, yet with plenty of space to stretch one’s wings.

Then a bolt of magic bounced off one of the nearby pillars and she snapped her attention back to the task at claw. It was an impressive eyrie. It was also occupied. They even added railings to the stairway, she thought. Up the stairwell she could see the rest of the group already engaging a second group of initiates, cutting through them like so much wheat, but it was a small group. She spread her wings, glad for the raised ceiling on the stairwell as she took to the air and caught up to the team.

Most of their attackers were already down. There were three initiates and one mage lying on the ground, unconscious or dead, and as she watched Alchemy drove his elbow into the last initiate’s chest, launching him backwards and over the edge of the staircase. There was a faint scream as the cultist dropped out of sight.

A door slammed open further up the stairway, a crowd of unicorns bursting out, their horns lighting as they began firing bolts of magic. Frost was the first to react, firing an arrow toward the group that slipped between the two forward-most unicorns before exploding in a hail of razor-sharp ice fragments. Several of them screamed in pain, their timbres switching to horror and fear moments later as Blade and Barnabas descended upon them.

“Keep moving!” she called as Barnabas slammed the last unicorn into the wall headfirst. “We need to go up, fast!” More shouts and outcries were breaking out all around them as they rose, climbing the inside of the tower. Frost began firing over and over again as they raced up the stairwell, her arrows hitting door after door and sealing them over with a coating of heavy ice.

The shouts and yells were silenced as a titanic voice echoed through the inside of the spire, almost deafening in its volume. “Intruders on the middle levels! Intruders!”

“Well, that tears the stealth approach!” Blade shouted as the remnants of the announcement echoed around them. “It’s time to smash and break, team!”

“This counted as stealth?” Alchemy called as they moved up the stairs. “Are you kidding me?”

“Save it for the bad guys,” Blade called back. She could see motion across the spiral; a whole group of unicorns moving down the stairwell at them. “Frost! Cultists at three!”

The mare turned and fired in one fluid motion, her magic launching no less than three arrows in the time it took for the first to cross the empty space of the spiral. A series of cracks rang out as the arrows detonated, shouts of surprise filling the air as the force broke ranks. Blade tucked her wings close and dropped as some of the unicorns began firing back, several beams of magic missing her by only a few feet.

“Keep them pinned!” she shouted to Frost. “We’ll wrap around!” Frost nodded and continued firing, ducking behind one of the stone pillars to take cover from the returning blasts. Several of the cultists had apparently had the same idea; Blade could see them still making their way down around the bend of the stairway towards them.

“Bruin!” Barnabas called as the group came into view. For a moment Blade wasn’t sure what he’d meant by the cry, then she caught sight of the unicorn leading the charge. She was huge, her brown body rippling with swollen muscle that looked both unnatural and unhealthy, as if some force was swelling against her body from the inside, trying to force its way out. There was a metal ring of some kind strapped around the base of the mare’s horn, and as Blade watched, a sickly glow began to emanate from it. The mare’s body began to swell even further, every muscle bulging outward as she opened her mouth with a scream of rage.

Blade dropped as one of the unicorns tracking her fired a bolt of magic, the shot whizzing by overhead and ricocheting off of the ceiling. Barnabas answered the mare’s roar with a yell of his own, and the two crashed into each other like two colliding titans, each rocking the other back.

Magic bolts filled the air as several of the initiates opened fire, and Blade was forced to weave her approach. Another unicorn’s horn lit up, this one with a red band around the base, and a blue glow appeared around her body, her wingbeats slowing as something gripped her entire body, pressing in from all directions.

He’s trying to grab me! Blade thought as she forced herself to move. She could feel her body resisting the telekinetic hold, the spell slipping as the crystals within her skin fought back against the new influx of magic, but it was getting harder and harder to move, like weights and restrictive bands had been tied to every one of her limbs. The unicorn grinned as the initiates nearby began to point their horns at her.

Hain swept into the distracted cultists like a whirlwind, his knife flashing as he let out a fierce warcry. The magic field around her blipped away, gone as the chosen’s concentration was broken by the sudden appearance of a knife through his throat. The rest of the initiates scattered, breaking up as they began firing at Hain, and Blade beat her wings, dropping in to help out.

Across the stairwell, there was another roar as Barnabas was thrown backwards by the bruin, the enraged unicorn slamming him into the wall and then lowering her head to charge. Then there was a blur of orange, and she let out a scream as Alchemy drove his forehooves into her side with enough force to send her stumbling. She lashed out with a backhoof, Alchemy stepping nimbly aside and then pressing his attack once more as the muscular unicorn let out another yell. Her body was twisting, skin growing tight as she grew larger and larger.

Barnabas let out a roar of his own as he stepped in, slamming his greataxe into the side of the bruin’s head. The unicorn let out another roar of pain as the sharp blade cut through her cheek, only stopping when it hit bone.

An arrow caught her in the face, snapping her head back even as ice began spreading across her head. She let out one last muffled roar as the ice swept over her mouth and eyes, and then stumbled back, rearing up on her hind legs and scraping at the advancing ice with her forehooves.

“Volley!” Alchemy shouted, jumping and landing a kick right in the center of the bruin’s back with both legs. The off-balance mare stumbled forward, her hooves slipping as she tried to keep her balance. The flat of Barnabas’s axe slammed into the side of her head, shattering ice and knocking the mare away as he swung the weapon like a baseball bat. Dazed and disoriented, the mare didn’t even realize how close she was to the edge of the stair until Alchemy’s running leap hit her in square in the chest. There was a loud crack as the railing broke, followed by a shriek of horror as the augmented unicorn dropped from sight.

“Keep moving!” Blade called as she drove the last cultist’s head into the ground, feeling a faint sense of satisfaction at the meaty clunk that resonated up her foreleg. “Head for the top!” She began running, taking each step of the massive staircase in a single bound. They passed by the group of unicorns that had fired on them from opposite the spiral, most of them frozen to the ground or lying unconscious and dying from multiple arrow wounds. Frost had done her job.

Another door burst open ahead of them, a chosen poking his head out before withdrawing it in a panic. An ice arrow sunk deep into the wood a moment later, ice sheets blossoming all around it and spreading out in beautiful, deadly patterns. Alchemy gave the door a kick as they passed, slamming it shut so the ice could finish its work.

“Frost!” Blade called. “How far are we from that spell?”

“Still pretty far!” Frost said. “They’re probably near the top of the tower.”

“Further away than the airship docks?”

“Probably.”

“Fine,” Blade said as another trio of initiates appeared on the steps above them. Where did they find all these guys? One of them managed to get a poorly aimed bolt off before Frost fired an arrow, the magical blast detonating harmlessly against the ceiling as the team swept over the three unprepared unicorns.

This actually isn’t as bad as I’d thought it might be, Blade thought as they made another circuit up the Pinnacle. They must be spread more thin than we thought to be putting up this little resistance. That or they’ve pulled everything back to protect the vital areas and we’re just running into the leftovers. She searched the upcoming stairs, her eyes hunting for recognizable markings as they climbed. We must be halfway to the airship docks by now. I guess we’ll take out their defensive net, and then—

“Down!” Someone crashed onto her back, shoving her down against the stairs as a wave of heat swept by just above her. From the way they’d come came a titanic bang followed by another wave of heat, and then whoever had crashed into her back was shoving her to the side as the air filled with hissing sounds.

“Take cover!” That was Frost’s voice, and as Blade looked up an arrow hit the ground right in front of her, ice growing out and up into a small wall that she could crouch behind. She could see several more of the ice blockades growing out of the stairs around her, the rest of the team taking refuge behind them.

“Nice move!” she called, giving the mare a quick nod of appreciation as another fireball collided with the front of the ice she was crouching behind, sputtering as it went out.

All right, she thought, risking a peek over the top of the ice barrier. Let’s see what we’ve got. Another fireball shot by overhead, the heat from its passage almost singeing her feathers, and she ducked back as the barrage intensified.

“Mages!” she called to the others. “Two or three of them. And a couple more chosen.”

“We must be close to the docks,” Hain said. “Otherwise why bother pinning us here?” The intensity of the bolts began to pick up, and several beams began to converge on one of the ice barriers, steam rising from the block of ice with a loud hiss. Frost sent an arrow flying back towards their attackers but someone batted it from the air with a loud crack, ice fragments scattering as the arrow detonated.

“Doesn’t matter where they have us pinned,” Barnabas said. He was laying flat on his chest, his body barely covered by the icy wall Frost had given him. “The problem is that we are pinned. Any ideas before they just have someone rush us from behind?”

“I agree,” Frost said as she formed and fired another arrow in one smooth movement, replenishing one of the barricades as it began to crack under the weight of the heated beams that were pouring onto it. “I can’t keep this up forever.”

“Hain?” Blade asked, looking in the direction of the older griffon. “Any ideas?”

He nodded. “We need to get someone to disrupt their spellcasting before they get the bright idea to just focus on us one at a time.” He glanced at her and then in the direction of Alchemy. “Do you think you could carry him on your back?”

“What?”

“Alchemy,” Hain said, barely flinching as a kinetic bolt of some kind slammed into his barrier, a chip of ice breaking off and flying past his face. “Could you carry him?”

“While flying?” It wouldn’t be easy, but … “Sure, I could.”

“Good,” Hain said. “Fall back and climb one of the pillars. If they don’t have anyone guarding the level above us, you can make your way around it until you’re right above them.”

“Then catch them off-guard from above,” she said, nodding. “Got it. Alchemy, you topped off?”

The orange earth pony plucked a vial from his combat harness and quickly emptied it. “Ready,” he said, eyeing the gap between their barriers. “You?”

She took a quick glance at the clump of now shielded unicorns, making a fast count of how many steps up they were. “Now!”

Alchemy bolted across the gap, his body a blur. Several bolts skipped across the empty stone behind him, and then he was behind her, shielded from sight and danger by Frost’s wall.

That still left them with another gap to cross, however. There was still a several foot space between her barrier and the railing. Alright, we’ll need to move fast, and time it so that we don’t—

An arrow struck the gap, another barrier rising out of the stone. Fireballs began hissing against it almost immediately, and her own barrier began to glow as one of the unicorns up above tried to wrap his magic around it.

“Go,” she said, crawling over to the railing and pressing her body right up against the rail, Alchemy right behind her. She gave him a nod and he climbed on top of her back, locking his hooves around her chest.

Here, we go, she thought as she climbed over the rail and braced her talons against the side of the massive stone pillar. I hope this works.

She jumped, Alchemy’s forelegs tightening around her chest as she began flapping her wings, keeping them tucked as close to her body as she could while still giving herself a little lift. Her claws scraped against the hard stone as she tried to find some grip, the rasping sound a counterpoint to the sounds of the magical firestorm flying at the rest of her team.

Come on … she told herself, her hind legs kicking against the slick rock as she tried to lift herself higher. You can do this! She was making progress, but not much. Her wings felt confined, cramped, and she could feel the muscles burning as she forced them to work within her limited requirements.

There was a downward shove that almost made her squawk in surprise, and then she was lifting through the air, the weight on her back gone. She looked up to see the tip of Alchemy’s tail vanish over the upper railing, and she let out a relieved sigh. A moment later, without the earth pony’s extra weight, she dug her talons into the soft wood and pulled herself over the side.

“Sorry about that,” Alchemy said, his voice low as he moved up the steps. The level was completely empty of any cult members. “I wasn’t sure that would work until it did, but I wasn’t sure you were going to make it.”

“It’s fine,” Blade said, forcing her wings to their full extension and shivering as blood rushed through them. “It worked. Now lets get the drop on that group of mages.”

“Who do we go for first?’ Alchemy asked.

Six, seven, eight … She pulled her attention away from counting the steps to give him a sideways glance. “Take the mages down first. Hard and fast. They’re going to have the most dangerous spells. Don’t hesitate.”

“Right.”

Nine, ten, eleven! “This is it,” she said, turning and slowing as she faced the nearest pillar. “Let’s—” She stopped speaking as Alchemy dove past her, his body twisting as he dropped over the side. She jumped forward just in time to see him kick off one of the pillars and bounce down to the stairway beneath her. Stunned shouts filled the air as she spread her wings, rolling and diving down towards the next level.

She came down with her talons extended, shrieking as she raked her claws across a mage’s back, shredding cloth and skin with equal ease. Then she was in the melee, lashing out in every direction as bolts and beams of glowing magic echoed all around her, mixing with shouts and yells coming from all directions.

Something hot and painful scorched across her side, and she jumped back, ignoring the burning pain as she dragged a cultist into one of his fellows. There was a bellowing roar as Barnabas and the rest of the team joined the melee, bowling over several of the panicking initiates.

Only the mages and a few of the chosen seemed to be holding their ground, falling back and firing spells into the fight even as more and more of the initiates fell. Blade turned towards them, spreading her wings and leaping forward, only to shut her eyes in pain as a bright flash filled her vision. She slammed into the ground hard as something took hold of her by the back, her beak snapping shut from the force of the impact. Then it pulled, lifting her up and throwing her sideways through the air. She managed to tuck her wings in against her side before she slammed into the wall, but she could still feel the faint pop as one of the vulnerable bones snapped. Her head met the stone a moment later, stars erupting across the field of purple and black that was all she could see.

She could feel the grip on her back growing loose as it yanked her up towards the ceiling, dragging her body along the wall. Knives of pain erupted along her wing as the broken limb twisted, and she kicked away from the wall on reflex, the top of her head brushing the ceiling before she fell, dropping to the ground.

Her vision was starting to clear, though it was hard to focus through the pain coming from her wing. She could still feel the hold on her back, but it was weakening, the energy surging down her forelimbs and into her claws.

She didn’t know what it was going to do when she let it out, but she did know that she hurt. And she was angry about it.

Her vision cleared enough that she could see the mage standing a few feet away, his horn glowing a bright yellow, a slightly confused look on his face as the tugging sensation on her back increased. She let out a shriek and jumped forward, letting the pain in her wing and side fuel her rage at the mage, and had a brief sense of satisfaction as the unicorn’s eyes went wide. He began to turn away, the glow around his horn winking out, and then she was on him, one pair of talons lashing out and transferring some of his own telekinetic magic back at him.

The mage jerked as if he’d been hit by a force much greater than her talons, his body flying back at high speed as something vibrant and yellow seemed to leak out of her talons. There was a muted crack as he hit the wall, and then the mage collapsed to the ground, his body limp. Blade turned just in time to see Hain get rid of the last chosen, the determined unicorn firing off one last blast of magic before the griffon’s knife found its mark.

“Everyone … everyone all right?” she asked, clenching her teeth as the pain in her wing tried to pull itself to her full awareness. She took a quick look around at the rest of the team. Hain seemed okay though a few of his feathers were charred and singed. Barnabas was resting his weight on the handle of his axe, breathing heavily, several clear lines carved across the front of his armor. Even Alchemy seemed injured as he stepped towards her, limping lightly, though with each step it was less pronounced.

“Your wing is broken,” he said as he stepped up to her. “I’ll need to set it in the correct position before I give you anything. I don’t have anything that can heal it. Not this quickly.”

“Can you wrap it and give me something for the pain?” she asked, wincing as her wing moved slightly.

“I can, but it’s not going to take effect very fast,” Alchemy warned, holding his hooves a few inches away from her wing. “And we’re going to need to set—”

“Just do what it takes for me to get back in the fight,” she said, taking a deep breath and tensing her body as his hooves touched her wing. A moment later she cried out, her legs giving way beneath her as pain blossomed along her wing and back.

“Almost there,” Alchemy said, and she choked back another cry, clenching her beak so hard she almost felt as if it would break as her wing twisted again. It felt as if the entire left side of her body had been engulfed in flame, flame that had somehow sucked itself deep inside every bone and limb.

“There,” Alchemy said, the pain lessening as he took a step back, and she let out a sigh of relief. “Now hold still. Hain?” He motioned towards the older griffon. “Could you help …?”

Hain nodded, stepping up to her right side as she lifted herself back from the ground. Alchemy pulled a tight, flat roll of cloth from somewhere inside his combat harness and peeled off the end, tossing the other towards Hain.

“Don’t move,” he said as the pair began wrapping the cloth around her middle, binding the wing tightly against her side. With each motion her wing sent out a fresh wave of pain, but compared to the agony it had been giving her a moment earlier, it almost wasn’t noticeable.

“Here,” Alchemy said, passing her a vial as soon as the wrap was complete. “This will help deaden the pain, but that’s all. I can’t mix it with a regrowth potion, though, and an injury like this even with a bone potion would take at least a day or two to heal, so it’s the best we can do right now.”

“It’s fine,” she said, snapping the cork free with a twitch of her claw and downing the mixture. It tasted foul, like she’d gagged on something that wasn’t meant to be eaten, but she choked it down anyway. They had to mission to finish. “Anyone else need any attention?” When nothing but shaking heads made their way back towards her, she nodded and tossed the empty vial away.

“All right, then let’s finish this,” she said. “The docks are only a few levels up.” She began moving forward, wincing as her wing sent a twinge of pain down her side, but ignoring the feeling as they began to move upward once more. “If you see anyone else, hit them hard and hit them fast.”

They pressed upwards, pausing only once to take out another trio of chosen before they could shout for help. Either whoever the group that they’d taken out was reporting to was simply assuming that their silence meant they were still occupied, or the cult was spread more thin than they’d thought.

There don’t seem to be a lot of the heavy hitters, Blade thought as the stairway began to level out, flattening into a long, level half-circle that marked the airship docks. There were four guards on the inside, each of the them initiates, and Frost dropped them with well-placed arrows, picking them off before any of them could make a noise. Either the cult’s more lacking in higher level magic-users than we thought, or they’re using quite a lot of them to fuel that big magic weather spell of theirs.

They’d been briefed on the design of the docks. They filled an entire level of the tower, a solid ring rather than a staggered spiral, half of it storage space for equipment, cargo, and parts, the other half of it berths for airships that could pump out their liftgas. The docks themselves were metal platforms and docking arms that could be collapsed and folded down against the side of the spire in case of heavy storms or—in this case—a desire to deny an opposing force a landing zone. The final defensive touch was a series of anti-air cannons and more modern guns that had been built into stone of the spire itself, ringing the sides and the tops of each of the platforms.

Okay, Blade thought as they moved up to the first set of doors, Alchemy taking point and vanishing through the opening. A faint howl of wind echoed through the open door, along with the distant rumble of weapons fire. Good. It would cover their assault.

Alchemy stuck his head back through the first door and waved them in. They followed one by one, moving into a dimly lit airship berth that was completely devoid of any signs of life. The heavy doors on the far side of the bay were shut tight, though the howl of the wind had become strong enough that they could still hear it whipping past. Better yet, however, the control booth for the platforms seemed completely abandoned. All she could see through the thick glass was a flickering whirlwind of white.

“Barnabas,” Blade whispered, pointing one claw towards the empty booth. He nodded, sheathing his axe on his back and making his way towards the control booth. As he did, she turned to the rest of the team and pointed up at the lone set of stairs leading towards the defensive emplacements. They moved up the wooden steps as quietly as possible, none of them willing to take any chances despite the faint heavy thud of cannonfire echoing through the room. Frost paused near the top of the steps, looking at Blade and then pointing her hooves towards both sets of doors.

Blade nodded, the mare staying put and provide cover for both the rest of them and Barnabas as they moved past and right up against the heavy, wooden doors that led to the emplacement. Blade pressed her head up against the wood, listened for a moment, and then flashed a “go” signal to Hain and Alchemy.

They moved fast, Alchemy kicking the door open and her and Hain sweeping out onto the platform before any of the gunners could react. A single, heavy cannon sat in the middle of the circular, snow-swept platform, tilted skyward as two unicorns reloaded it with a third looking on. One of them dropped the cannonball he was holding, his jaw gaping as the group swept towards him. The other two unicorns on the platform turned to look, the boss of the trio opening his mouth to yell, his horn lighting up just before Alchemy hit him in the chest and knocking him back over the edge. The wind sucked him away with a faint scream. The other two went down at roughly the same time as she and Hain crashed into them, slamming them down to the ground.

One down, Blade thought as she took a quick look around. The storm was so thick she couldn’t even make out the surface of the ice down below her, though she could hear the faint cracks of explosions as the pirate fleet clashed with the Bloodhooves. Here and there she thought she could see a faint flash as someone fired, but it was hard to tell amongst the dancing snows if that was what she was actually seeing or if it was just wishful thinking.

“Come on!” she called, turning and heading back through the doors, moving towards the next defensive bay. They wouldn’t have long before the other emplacements noticed that one of their number had stopped firing, and there was an even higher chance that they’d notice the deployment of the landing platform.

The second defensive platform went down as easily as the first one—easier, actually, since the three unicorns controlling it were watching the sky, looking for targets. Each of them joined the chosen from the first platform in being given a quick chance to learn how to fly. As far as Blade could tell, none of them figured it out before being swept out of sight. The third and fourth emplacements suffered the same fate, though one of the unicorns working the guns did manage to get a bolt off that took a chunk out of Hain’s armor.

They returned to the first berth where they’d left Barnabas and Frost to find the mare standing over the body of another shadow, a grim smile on her face. “He thought he could catch my brother off-guard,” she explained as they helped the minotaur work the machinery, the first platform slowly unfolding into place, sliding first out of the side of the spire and then folding out its supports. They hadn’t even managed to lock it into place when the first corvette appeared out of the whitewashed sky, darting in close to the platform and dropping dozens of griffons from its gondola, a full wing of soldiers who dropped through the air like stone, spreading their wings at the last second to avoid hitting the platform at full speed.

“Welcome to the party!” Blade called as the hangar doors were pulled open, two talons worth of griffons spilling into the empty berth with crossbows at the ready. One of the groups immediately made for the next hangar over, calling out to one another as two of them began to work the heavy gears that would deploy the next landing platform. Outside, even before the first wing of griffons had cleared the platform, a second group was dropping in, spreading their wings in perfect unison as they dropped out of the sky. Like the first group, most of them were wearing plain red-and-brown painted armor, but she could see one talon whose armor was accentuated with golden lines, their helmets and chest plates more ornate than those of the griffons around them. They were part of the Patriarch’s own command wing.

“Good work getting the docks deployed,” their commander said as she approached them, snapping the group a quick salute with her wings. The rest of her talon formed up behind her, their eyes searching the room as if looking for an immediate threat. “We’ve been waiting to get out of that storm for a while.”

“I don’t blame you,” Blade said. “Especially when a lot of the fun is in here. You guys have a plan?”

“Five talons will secure the docks,” the commander said, her voice crisp. “Alpha Wing is going to work their way down, clearing the tower room by room, while my talon and a full wing will move up. We’re going to neutralize the spellcasters, and try to cut the head off the snake. You can stay here if you like,” she said, motioning towards the docks, where another wing of griffons was already raining in, bringing the total to three—more than a hundred griffons.

“Or,” the commander continued, tapping a revolver that was hanging to one side of her chest. “If you’d like to help clear the rest of the tower, we’d appreciate the help. You got us this far, but if you’d like ...”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Blade said, ignoring the pain in her wing as she gave the commander a grin. “We’re just glad you’re willing to keep up.” The wing commander nodded and then waved at the team behind her. As one, they moved for the door.

* * *

“Armed!” the griffon called, stepping back from the ornately carved, heavy-set wooden door, giving the small series of packets he’d attached to the surface a final tug and yanking the detonation cord free. “It’s hot!”

Blade ducked behind cover, following the example of the rest of the soldiers in covering her ears and opening her jaw wide as they waited for the blast. They didn’t have to wait long. A rapid-fire chain of cracks filled the air, her chest shaking with each detonation. Splinters of wood shot by overhead, smoke filling the air as the talon commander signaled her team to move forward.

She and her team ducked out of cover along with them, watching as the massive, locked door that had been the entrance to the old patriarch’s penthouse crumbled, broken apart by the breaching charges. As the team moved almost silently through the smoke, they stumbled across the forms of several cult members lying on the stairwell, two bruins and a shadow. Blood was streaming from multiple lacerations as well as their ears, and none of the three were conscious. A chunk of wood had been shoved clean through one shadow’s shoulder. The squad paused just long enough to check the three for signs of life and make sure they were down before moving on. The talons behind them would secure them, though what would be done with them no one was really sure yet.

The top of the stairwell was clear of smoke, and one of the griffons poked his head over the top of the stairs, ducking back as a single bolt of red energy cut through the space, setting fire to the far wall as it missed.

“Just one,” the griffon said, drawing his crossbow. “The rest must be hiding further in.”

“Let me handle this.” Frost pushed her way to top of the stairs, drawing her bow. “Hey!” she shouted. “I know you can hear me in there.”

“I don’t have anything to say to the likes of you, disgusting inferiors!” came the reply. Another bolt of magic sparked off of the far ceiling.

“Yeah, well these ‘inferiors’ are being pretty superior at the moment,” Blade called before Frost could say anything. “So you might want to rethink your position, seeing as we took your tower and all. Plus most of your mages.” There had only been six controlling the spell that had been making the weather so bad, which was odd given the strength estimate that Frost had made. “You’re not really in a position to do much but whine.” There was a hiss of anger from their mysterious defender, and Frost gave her a look.

“What?” Blade asked. “I’m just pointing out the obvious. You talk to him now.”

Frost turned back to the head of the stairs, readying her bow. “Who is this?”

“I am mage Subtle Eye—” Blade felt a thrill sweep through her at the name. Perfect! “—and I am—”

The cultist’s words cut off in a scream as Frost fired, her arrow snapping away from her bow and then detonating somewhere inside the room with a sharp crack. Frost was up over the top of the stairs before the scream had cut off, Blade close behind, and the mare fired again, her arrow catching the dark-blue unicorn in the shoulder and throwing him to one side. “Barnabas,” she said, her voice icy calm as she fired again, this time pinning the stallion’s right foreleg to the desk he had been standing in front of. “Prune him.”

“You’ll—” Whatever Subtle was going to say was cut off as Barnabas stepped forward and snapped his head back with a backhand. As the unicorn’s head bounced off of the desk he caught it and slammed it down once more, holding it in place. Then he lifted his axe in one hand. There was a swift thunk, and Subtle screamed, his entire body jerking in pain as Barnabas swept his axe off the side of the desk, a dark blue horn falling to the carpet.

“Check the rest of the rooms,” one of the griffons said, motioning towards the doors in the back of the room. “Be careful, we don’t know what sort of traps they might have waiting. Several of the griffons complied, stepping around the desk and the wheezing, crying occupant pinned to its front.

“I’d consider that light, given what your cult has done,” Frost said, drawing another arrow and aiming it at Subtle, whose tears seemed to be stemming from equal parts pain and rage. “Now, where is Sagis?”

“He’s not here,” the unicorn said, laughing. “He’s gone.”

“Ran away like a coward,” Blade said, though she didn’t really believe it.

Subtle laughed. “No,” he said, shaking his head and blinking away the blood that was seeping out of the stump where his horn had been. “No, he’s gone to awaken our king.” He let out a long, wheezing laugh.

“Rooms are clear!” one of the griffons called. “No one’s here, invisible or otherwise.”

“Where’d he go?” Frost asked.

“Where’s the key?” Blade cut in before he could answer. “Did he take it?”

Subtle laughed again. “Of course he took it,” he said, his head rolling back. “He and all the most dedicated of my brothers and sisters are waiting to open his prison. Your fight here is meaningless. King Sombra will annihilate you all.” A few of the griffon soldiers shot uneasy glances at one another.

Wonderful, Blade thought with a sigh as she rolled her eyes around the room. He’s gone, and he took the key with him. Now how am I supposed to— Something caught her eye and she paused.

“Where did he go?” Frost demanded, prodding the unicorn with an arrow. “Tell me so I can go kill him.”

“I’ll never—” Subtle began.

“We don’t need you to tell,” Blade said, stepping around the desk and looking at the massive map of the Ocean painted across one wall of the opulent office. There was an island she’d never seen before in the middle of the northeast, one with a strange structure sitting atop it: a triangular piece of carved rock.

“Frost,” she said, tapping the map with one talon. “Maybe I’m just looking at outdated maps, but I’ve never seen this island on anything before.” She glanced at the nearby Bloodhoof stronghold and made a few quick mental estimates. “Isn’t this out where the eyrie said the other half of the Bloodhooves’ fleet is?”

“Yeah,” Hain said, stepping up alongside her and looking up at the strange island. “It is. But I’ve never heard of anything of interest being out there besides small, worn over rocks. Way too small for a colony.”

“Small enough for a prison, though,” she said, shooting a glance towards Subtle. The unicorn was glaring at her, murder in his eyes. “An ancient, magical prison for some nutty unicorn psychopath, maybe?”

“How dare you impugn the great King Sombra—” Subtle began.

“Ma’am!” one of the soldiers by the backside of the desk called, his clear voice drowning out the ranting unicorn. “These papers look like they’re about that island. And they’ve got ancient griffon on them.”

“What?” Blade stepped up to the desk, looking down at a spread of papers that Subtle had apparently been studying at some earlier point. The first thing she noticed were two side-by-side photographs, one of the key she’d been sent to retrieve, the other of the stone arch that was featured so prominently on the Ocean map.

“That is ancient griffon,” she said, frowning as she looked down at the pages. She spread a few of them out, revealing more pictures of an ice-filled cavern, massive open spaces, and—creepily enough—what looked like skeletons frozen in the ice.

“It is the prison of King Sombra!” Subtle declared, his voice rising in a fever pitch. “You cannot stop his return. The Order will release him, and with us as his true servants, the superior species, we will grind this Ocean beneath our hooves, we will—”

Blade ignored the unicorn’s ranting, her eyes narrowing as she spotted a photograph of what looked like some sort of entrance. The language was ancient, but there was enough of a similarity … “Tonoz?” she said in surprise.

Subtle stumbled. “What?”

“This ‘prison’ of yours,” Blade said. “It’s named ‘The Vault.’” She held up the photograph. “Ancient griffon. This word is close enough to modern griffon I recognize it.”

“So it’s the vault then,” Subtle said, sneering. “The vault where those pathetic immortals Celestia and Luna banished the rightful king of—”

“That’s half the title,” Blade said, running the second part of the phrase over and over again in her head. The language had changed, some of the letters seemed off. In fact, something about the whole situation felt off. Why would an ancient unicorn king be entombed here? With griffon writing all over his prison? Something just doesn’t quite add up ... she thought. The cult seems so sure, but I’m not.

“What does it matter if that’s only half of the title?” Subtle snapped. “In a matter of days Lord Sagis will open it. King Sombra will be free of his prison at last!” A few of the griffons shot nervous glances at one another, and Blade saw Frost pull her arrow back a bit. “You cannot stop it!” the unicorn screamed, spittle dripping down his jaw. “King Sombra will kill you all! He comes! Nothing can—” His head met the top of the desk with a hard, meaty thunk, and this time he stayed down, unconscious.

“What?” Alchemy asked, setting his hoof back down as everyone looked in his direction. “He was starting to creep me out.”

“I’ll need to report this to command,” the wing leader said. “The patriarch must be informed. The fleet will need to react immediately if we’re to round up the rest of the cult and stop this …” She waved a pair of talons in the direction of Subtle’s limp body. “This … madness from escaping. If this cult truly has a king, then we need to stop him as well.”

“And we’ll need to move fast,” Blade said, gathering up the papers. “We need to get to that island and stop them from opening that structure, whatever it is.”

“The vault?” the commander asked, lifting one eyebrow.

“Not just the vault,” Blade said, as the last word of the phrase clicked into place somewhat. “The Vault of Bones. Now tell me that doesn’t sound like the perfect place to store an old, insane, unicorn king corpse.”

“You think this Sombra is dead?” the commander asked.

“Dead, alive, what does it matter?” Blade said, shrugging and feeling a faint twinge of pain from her deadened wing. “If you think the cult won’t be able to make use of whatever’s in there, then by all means bet on it. Me?” She took a quick look around the room. “All I know is that the cult seems certain they’re about to release some big, bad, evil entity on the world. And the last thing I want is for that to happen. Which means we need to move. Now.” The rest of her team nodded, along with the wing commander.

“Very well,” she said, snapping her talons and signaling for one of her soldiers. “I will have the patriarch informed.”

“Good,” Blade said, turning and taking a quick glance at the map on the side of the room, her eyes gravitating towards the strange, triangular arch. There was an uneasy feeling in her gut, a twisting, almost nauseous sensation that was telling her that something bad was about to happen. “How fast can we be there?”

“If we push it?” the commander said. “Two or three days. Maybe four.”

“Good,” Blade said. “Because I don’t think Sagis would leave this place if he didn’t have a good reason.” She turned to look back at the rest of the room. “Something tells me we need to get to the Vault of Bones. As soon as we can.”

“Or we’ll all regret it.”

Count of Laws Broken: 0
Total Laws Broken: 63
Damage Value (In Bits): 15
Total Damage Value (In Bits): 390,896

Chapter 16 - Forebodings

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Just past Buoy Rock - The Ocean of Endless Ice

The wood of the door felt thick and heavy against his knuckles as he knocked, almost like it was made out of metal rather than wood. He knew that wasn’t the case, but it felt like it anyway. “Frost? You in there?” There was no response.

He lifted the latch, wood rubbing against wood as he slid the door open just enough to let a little light through. He caught a faint, wordless, tune, a hum that slipped past the gap and into the hall before cutting off, and he gave his head a quick shake before opening the door a little further. “Frost?”

She’d stopped humming the moment he’d opened the door. That wasn’t a good sign.

“You can come in, Barnabas,” she said. She’d used his full name. That wasn’t a good sign either.

He slid the door the rest of the way open and stepped into the small room Frost had been given. Six bunks, three to a side, lined the walls, a small space between them just wide enough that he could stand without twisting his shoulders. Griffons liked to build spaciously and open, like any species with wings, but even on an airship there were limits. Frost was lying in the middle of the floor, her bow nearby, leaning against one of the bunks. From the sharp angle of the drawers underneath one of the bunks, she was using them to store what little gear she’d brought with her when they’d left the Arrow at Cragtooth heights.

“Hey, sis,” he said, turning and sliding the door shut behind him. “How are you doing?”

“Fine,” she said, her voice empty of what little warmth he’d hoped would be there. Her horn was glowing, the soft purple light shimmering across it not enough to affect the rest of the room, but enough to slightly shade the lines of her face.

“You don’t sound like it.” He wasn’t sure what to say. He never was. All his skill being nice and friendly with others, and sometimes he wasn’t sure what to say to his own sister anymore. She was just so … cold. Come on, you big lump, think of something!

“What should I sound like?”

Great. It was going to be that kind of question. The one where a wrong word could set off everything, while the right word at the right time had a chance of disarming her defenses. He’d have to act fast. “Happy?” he suggested, shrugging. “Maybe a little relieved? Come on, sis. The Bloody Tip is back in the hands of the griffons!” The fleet had left most of its ground forces behind when they’d turned to finish off the remains of the cult. “The Pinnacle Eyrie is back on the Ocean again.”

Frost merely nodded, her eyes still staring off into space. There was a soft glow running along her sides, but it hadn’t been there a minute ago, which meant that she’d probably been using her magic for something else. He cast his eyes around the room, looking for the telltale signs.

“I mean,” he said, shrugging again. “The Order’s pretty much gutted. You should be happy about that, right?” Aeliana would have been much better at this. She was always the big sister Frost needed.

“But they’re not dead,” Frost said, the words coming out flat and level, like a matter-of-fact statement. “Sagis is still alive, along with Trip, Cell, and at least half or more of their mages.”

“Yeah, but …” He couldn’t think of what to say next. His eyes picked up the small fragment of ice near the dresser drawer. She’d been making figures again, using her special talent for something beautiful, only to wipe it away when she was done. “They can’t recover from this, Frost. We’re going for them. One way or another, the cult’s finished.”

“But they aren’t yet,” Frost said, closing her eyes as the glow around her horn went up a notch, followed by the purple sheen around her side. “Almost isn’t enough.” There was a brief brightness around her side, and ice began to grow across her coat. At first he felt shocked, but then he could see the outlines it was forming to, the shape of the surface. It was armor. Ice armor, created by her magic.

“Not that I disagree,” he said, taking a seat on the edge of one of the bunks. The wood creaked beneath his weight. “But we struck them a major blow, Sis. And in a day we’re going to wrap it all up and turn it into a Hearth’s Warming gift. And then we’ll get paid—”

“I don’t care about the money.” He’d brushed the trigger. He’d have to move with caution.

“I know,” he said, picking his words carefully. “But we’re almost done, Frost. Please, just relax a little. I know … I know the cult has taken away almost everything for you.” He was taking a risk bringing that up, and he could see it in the way her ears twitched. “But please, it’s not healthy to be this focused on them.” She didn’t say anything. She was barely moving.

“I’m not saying I want you to give it up,” he said, shaking his head. “Tartarus, Aeliana was family. The cult’s done horrible, depraved things that no one in this ice should ever have had to experience. But … I’m worried about you,” he said, hanging his head. “Frost, you hardly ever smile anymore. And I’m not talking about those smiles you get when you’re thinking about how we’re going to stop the cult. I mean real smiles.”

He stopped speaking, waiting for her response. Her eyes were still shut, but the growth of ice along her side had stopped.

“And what am I supposed to be doing instead?” she asked. “You said it yourself, we’re a day away from ending them for good. What am I supposed to be doing, this close to ending it?”

“I don’t know,” he said, the words slipping out of his mouth before he’d realized what he’d said. He took a deep breath as her eyes snapped open. “I really don’t, Sis. Just … maybe be a little happy?”

“Why?” she asked. She turned to look at him, her eyes driving into his. “Why should I be happy when Sagis and the rest of his ilk … his evil, are still out there?”

The words hurt. It wasn’t the meaning that did it. It was the way she said them, the fire that flared in her voice. It only seemed to come anymore when she was thinking about the cult.

“I …” He hesitated. “I can’t answer that, Frost,” he said. “And that’s what scares me.” Her eyes widened in surprise and he continued. “And I shouldn’t have to answer that. That’s what’s worse.” He let his shoulders sag, his head resting against the middle bunk as he leaned back. “Frost … I … Don’t you ever worry that you’ve gone too far?”

“Gone too far?” she asked, her eyes narrowing. “That cult has killed dozens, hundreds, and you—”

“I’m not talking about the cult!” he said, regretting raising his voice as soon as he’d done it. “I’m not talking about Sagis, or any of the mages,” he said again, quieter this time. Frost was looking at him in shock. “This isn’t about them. This is about you.”

“I understand,” Frost said, growing cold once more. “This is about the killing—”

“Tartarus, Frost, no it’s not,” he said, rubbing one hand against his forehead. “It’s not about the cult, or about what they do, or any of that. It’s about you. I—” He couldn’t stop now. He had to keep speaking. “Frost, you don’t smile anymore.”

“I don’t—”

“Frost, you don’t!” The words rushed out of him in a fury, torn free along with something inside his chest, rebounding around the room like a physical force. He sagged back against the bunk, resting his elbows on his thighs. “You don’t, Frost,” he said, repeating the words like a mantra. “You’re losing yourself.”

“I …” Frost seemed almost stunned by his outburst, her words choking as the magic glow around her horn winked out. “Aeliana—”

“She wouldn’t want this, Frost,” Barnabas said. The words almost hurt coming out. “Right now, everyone else in the team is up in the galley, chatting with the griffons and having a good time.”

“I’m preparing—”

“I know you are,” he said, cutting her off. “But so are they. They’re getting ready for this fight too, almost the same way you are. But they’re smiling. And talking. And enjoying things. Celebrating the victory at the Pinnacle. You haven’t done any of that.” His voice was almost a whisper now. “Frost, have you ever stopped to ask yourself what you’re going to do when this is all over?”

Silence filled the room. His sister was sitting quietly, staring down at the floor as if deep in thought. Not a sound passed between them.

He shifted on the bunk, the deep creak of the wood echoing through the room, and she flinched, her ears folding flat against her head.

“Frost,” he said, crouching and putting one hand on her shoulder. “You’re my sister. I love you, but I’m starting to really worry about you. I know this is important to you. It’s important to me too … but … Are you sure this is worth it? All this work, all this effort … Have you ever thought about what you’re going to do when it’s over and done?” There was a hot, burning feeling in the back of his throat, the pressure of unshed tears begging for a release. The feeling fit right in with the heavy feeling in his chest.

“I—I’ll figure it out,” Frost said, shutting her eyes as she shook her head. He could see the pain in them, though there weren’t any tears. She’d gotten good at hiding it. Her voice hiccuped as she spoke again. “Once it’s over, I’ll figure it out.”

“Frost,” he said, wrapping his arms around her and hugging her tightly. “I’m worried you won’t. These last couple of days … The last few weeks ...You’ve been colder than ever.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, though her tone was still slightly frigid. She brought one foreleg up and wrapped it around his shoulders. “I really am. I love you too, I just …” Her words trailed off.

“I know,” he said, relaxing the hug and pulling back a little, staring her right in the eyes. “The cult. Frost, please, I know you’re determined to see this through, but you can’t let that cult be the only thing in your life, alright?”

Frost let out a long sigh and then shook her head, squeezing her eyes tight shut. “I know. I’m … I’m sorry, Barns.” Barns. It’d been awhile since he’d heard his old nickname come out of her mouth. “I know you’re worried.” She pulled back, looking down at the fragment of ice he’d seen, her eyes staring at it. “You’re right to be worried. It’s going to end soon, and I should be happier. But part of it isn’t that.”

“What is it?” he asked as he leaned back, his arms behind him.

“The last few days, there’s been this … pressure,” Frost said, tapping her horn with one hoof. “I noticed it while we were getting ready to assault the Pinnacle. It’s like …” She shook her head. “I don’t really know how to describe it. Like someone is holding my head underwater, only it’s not air I need, it’s magic. Except I can still get magic. It’s more like the feel of it, like there’s a giant pressure.”

Barnabas frowned. He and Aeliana had read up on magic after they’d taken in Frost, but he couldn’t recall ever reading about anything like this. “Are you hurt?” he asked. “Is it something bad? A curse?”

“There’s no such thing as curses,” Frost said, rolling her eyes. The motion made him feel a little better. “It’s more like … a weight. Like when you walk into a room and everything’s really tense. Like a static charge before those storms you used to tell me about. Except it’s related to magic.”

“And that’s why you’ve been so quiet?”

She nodded. “It’s been giving me a bit of a headache.”

Well, that explains how distracted she’s been for the last few days. He shook his head. “Maybe you should take—”

“No.” The word came out hard and fast. Angry. “It’s nothing I can’t handle. I’ll just have to deal with it.”

“What if it’s the cult?” he asked.

“I know it’s the cult,” Frost said, shaking her head and shooting him an annoyed glare.

Why can’t she smile as often as she has that look.

“That’s why I’m worried,” she continued. “This pressure … it’s a build-up. And it’s coming from the direction of that rock we’re heading for.”

“The vault?”

“Yeah.”

“Could it be dangerous?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” she said, shaking her head again, her white mane shimmering like … well, ice under a light. “I don’t think it itself is. Maybe what it represents. It feels like it’s being charged for something, though what—”

“Their King Sombra,” Barnabas said.

“Yeah, that.” Frost said, a somber look on his face. ‘I’m starting to think Blade’s hunch might have been right. There’s not a lot else a feeling like this could mean.”

“Well then, I guess it’s a good thing we’re going to stop them.”

“Yeah.”

The room was quiet again for a moment as they both digested the news. “I think you should let Blade know,” Barnabas said after he’d run her words through his mind. “She needs to hear about this.”

“Can’t you tell her?” Frost said. “I’m—” Her eyes caught the look he was giving her and she closed her mouth with a click. “Right.”

“You don’t like her much, do you?”

“Who, the griffon?”

“I guess that’s a no.” Barnabas shook his head. “This is what I meant, Frost. I mean—”

“I’ll tell her,” Frost said, and he could tell from the tone that the conversation, or at least that part of it, was over.

Five years ago, she would have been just fine with someone like Blade. Or Alchemy, he thought as Frost’s horn began glowing once more, the soft purple color sliding across its surface. Now half the time I feel almost like she’s angry at me. And I can’t—

“So what will you do?”

His sister’s question jerked him away from his thoughts. “About what? The magic?”

She gave him a familiar look, a sardonic questioning that sent a pang of familiarity through his chest. She’d given him a look like that a lot when they were younger. Not as much recently, though. Maybe I’m not doing as bad as I thought.

“No,” Frost was saying. “About after. The same question you asked me. What are you going to do when this is all over? Go back to pirating?”

He almost couldn’t believe she’d asked the question. The heavy feeling in his chest lifted a little. Maybe something he’d said had gotten to her. Somehow.

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “I can’t do that. Not with what Titus is working on with the griffons. Order’s coming to the Ocean at long last, and not the cult kind. It took a few hundred years, but in a year or two, this place won’t be the same.”

“What then?” she pressed. “Government work? Go back to your homeland?”

“No!” he said, his answer coming out a lot quicker than he’d meant for it to. “You wouldn’t enjoy it there. It’s not the nicest place unless you’re used to it.”

“Hmm.” It was a non-committal grunt. “Then what?” She was probing him, he could tell.

Time for a retreat. He smiled. “Believe me, Frost, I’ve thought about it. This last week, more than ever. And I’ve got plans.” It’s just that a lot of them revolve around making sure that I’m doing what’s right by you. He couldn’t say that though. “But if I tell you what they are now, it might make you second guess some of your own that you need to be making.”

Her eyes flashed for a moment as he spoke, and he almost reacted. Did I just see … fear? “Look,” he said, shifting his weight to a crouch as he prepared to rise and putting his hand on her shoulder again. “I promise you, I have plans, all right? But I can’t do what I want to do and not think about my little sister. So I want you to think about what we’re going to do after this is done, okay?”

“I … I understand,” Frost said, her head tilting downwards. “And I’m sorry. The cult, I just—”

“Frost,” he said, hugging her close to his chest once again. “I’m with you on the cult. Believe me, I miss Aeliana, and I want to make sure they’re never able to take someone like that again. At the same time, revenge can’t be all you think about.”

“I know.”

“I know you do, I just … I’m sorry, Frost. I’m sorry too.” He shook his head as he stepped away. “I was hard on you. You have time to think about what you want to do, I just … I don’t want to be shut out. And I don’t want you to shut out a pretty good team because you’re so focused on this.” He shook his head. “Though I have to admit, ice armor is pretty cool.”

“Yes,” she said, either ignoring or missing his pun. In the old days, it would have at least gotten a groan. “I’m working on making it reaction, sort of like my splintering arrow enchantment, but for now, forming armor on command will be useful enough.”

“That’s probably something you could share with Blade and the rest of the group,” he said.

“It won’t work on them,” she replied, shaking her head. “My magic is what makes it work.”

“That’s not what I meant,” he said, trying to put on a smile. “I meant tell them about it.”

“Oh,” she said. “I suppose I could do that.”

“Well,” he said as he backed up, probing behind himself and finding the door. “As your older brother, and at risk to my own skin, I must inform you that you’ll have to let them know about that on your own, along with the magic pressure.” If only to get you to talk to them, he thought as he slid the door open. His eyes flickered towards the fragment of ice by the drawers. It was already starting to melt.

“See you later, Frost,” he said as he tugged the door partway shut. “I love you, sis.”

“I love you, too,” she said, though the words did little to ease the hollow in his heart as he slid the door shut.

He turned and headed for the galley, his thoughts echoing inside his mind, and then paused, turning instead for his own quarters. He’d had to make do with a hammock, since none of the bunks on the ship were designed to take a being of his size, and it was only because the Seeker had left its talon compliment back at the Pinnacle that there was space for him to have a room at all.

All in all, he thought as he slid the door to his room open, sweeping his hammock aside as he stepped in. I don’t think that went too poorly. The heavy feeling in his chest was still there, of course, but he was starting to think that it wasn’t going to go away anytime soon. It was like a looming sense of foreboding, a grim sense that his sister was slipping away from him.

Aeliana would have known what to do, he thought as he sat down on the edge of one of the bunks, reaching across to the opposite side of the room and opening one of his own bags. She would have been better at this than me.

But Frost didn’t have an older sister anymore. Neither did he. Sagis had seen to that. He hadn’t been lying to Frost when he’d told her he agreed that the cult needed to pay. They did.

He just knew he didn’t like it being everything she was thinking about. It wasn’t healthy. Not that her prior behavior hadn’t been worrying. Though her explanation of the headaches did bother him a little. For all they knew, the cult could be getting ready to blast itself into oblivion, and they could be on the front row for that performance. Or part of it.

Still … He shook his head. It would be worth the risk. Between what Frost had just told him and what everyone else was expecting, it was looking more and more like the cult was in fact, right on the money.

And that just won’t do, he thought as he pulled out a slightly crumpled piece of folded paper from his pack. A few moments more worth of digging found a thick ink-vial, followed by a stubby, almost destroyed quill. It would work.

He didn’t usually write these very often, but with Frost being as cold as she was … He unstoppered the ink vial and dabbed the tip of the quill in it, the thick, almost solid ink taking a few prods before reaching the consistency of oil. Besides, he thought as he touched the tip of the quill to the paper, making a few experimental strokes before committing himself fully. Writing always did help me organize my thoughts.

And if all went well, she’d never see it anyway.

* * *

“Hey,” Blade said, looking up from the table as Barnabas walked into the room, his hooves echoing against the wooden decking. A few off-duty officers scattered around the other tables looked up as well, but most of them looked back down to their conversations as they saw the minotaur heading for her table. “Itching for a fight yet?”

“Like my axe is a backscratcher,” Barnabas said, giving her a smile as he sat down at the table. “Where’s Hain?” he asked, looking over at the gap on the other side of the table where the older griffon had been sitting a few minutes earlier.

“Stepped out for a break,” Blade said, looking back down at the photographs and other documents spread across the tabletop in front of her. “I think all the double-think was getting to him.”

“Double-think?” Barnabas asked.

“Double-checking, whatever you want to call it,” Blade said, her talon vibrating as she tapped it against one of the photographs. “We agree on some things—like this room here, for example,” she said, flicking the photograph across the table with a quick twitch of her claw. “Because this photo clearly shows the room past it, that means we’ve got a verifiable demonstration that the two are connected. However …” She tapped another photo with another claw. “This one appears to be connected to that one, but not to the first. So we’re trying to figure out which goes where.”

“Sounds like boring work,” Barnabas said, lifting one of the photographs and looking at it. A small shiver ran through his body. “Creepy, too. All this paperwork and no map, huh?”

“Not unless you’re counting the one we’ve started to make,” Blade said, tapping the large sheet of parchment they’d been slowly building their map on. “So far though, I’m not even sure it’s worth the effort.”

“Oh?”

“The place isn’t very big,” she said. “We’ve got maybe five or six big, main rooms, and a few offshoots we’ve got no view of, but it looks like this place is literally just a straight shot to the end once you go down the big entry stairwell.”

“Entry stairwell?” Barnabas asked.

“This one,” she said, passing over the photograph. It looked like something that would have been more in place in Canterlot than a crypt. Though it had been hollowed out of the rock of the island, it was still a long, sweeping stone staircase set into the rock itself, the space above it hollowed out of the stone. Or maybe it had been a natural cave at one point—the ice filling the place hadn’t been dug back far enough to find out.

“Still creepy,” Barnabas said, sliding the photo back. “Those really do look like bones in the ice.”

“We’re pretty sure they are,” she said, a grey-feathered motion catching her eyes as Hain walked back into the galley and headed for the table. “Which is worrying in and of itself. Whoever this Sombra guy was, he left a crypt full of bones behind. Not very charming decor.”

“To be clear,” Hain said as he sat down next to them, sliding into the conversation almost as smoothly as he moved across the bench. “That’s assuming the cult is correct.”

“Well, something is down there,” Blade said, picking up the picture of the vault itself. She still wasn’t sure why it was called that, since it was little more than a triangular arch of stone sitting atop a slab. Maybe the arch was a symbol, and the slab the tomb itself? It still looks like a door, she thought as she tapped the bottom of the photo. There, outlined by a circle that had been drawn on the surface itself, was a circular hole. And above it … the key, floating in the air.

“Yes,” I know,” Hain said as Barnabas picked up the picture. That had been the one that had made the entire fleet decide to move on ‘The Vault of Bones’ or whatever it was as quickly as possible. “It’s a key to something, and they’ve clearly done their homework.”

“Frost says she can feel it too,” Barnabas said. Blade looked up in surprise, along with Hain, and the minotaur let out a sigh. “I take it she hasn’t been by to mention it?” Blade shook her head.

“Well, she says it’s like a distant static charge, like the kind you feel before a thunderstorm. Lots of magic. You’d have to ask her more about it.” There was something to the way he’d said it that made her want to ask further, but at the same time told her he wasn’t going to say anymore.

“Right,” she said. “I’ll do that.”

“Good.” Barnabas tossed the photo to the table. “Well, I wandered in here because I was looking for Alchemy, actually. You seen him? He wanted to teach me some game he had in his pack. Bow, or something like that.”

“Boa,” Hain said, a small grin sliding across his face. “Good luck. It’s fun. I think he’s up on the bridge.”

“Right,” Barnabas said, almost tapping his horns as he gave them both a quick salute. “By your leave then, captain.”

Hain stiffened and Blade shook her head. “He was talking to me,” she said as the minotaur walked out of the galley. “Not that I’m too fond of the term. I was never a captain.”

“Commander?” Hain suggested.

She shook her head again. “How about just ‘Blade?’ For now, anyway.” She shifted her attention back to the spread of pictures and papers stretched across the table. “So, back to work?”

“Yeah,” Hain said, picking up a stack of memos. “Back to work.” He shuffled through a few of the pages, his eyes running over the short messages. Then he paused. “Huh. That’s interesting.”

“Interesting?” Blade looked up, pulling her attention away from the file she’d been looking at. “What’s interesting?”

“This.” A memo slid across the table, sliding to a crooked stop in front of her.

“What about it?” Blade asked as she ran her eyes over the short missive. We’re making progress … blah blah blah … King Sombra … blah blah blah, key …

“The dates,” Hain said. “Check the date.”

“It doesn’t have one,” she said, glancing at the top of the document. In the corner of her eye, Hain shook his head.

“Not that kind of date,” he said, reaching out and tapping the middle of the memo. “Here. Not the date, date, but the timeline.”

“After over a thousand years, King Sombra will finally be free,” she read, before glancing up at Hain. “All right, so?”

“The number’s off,” Hain said, reaching over and picking up one of the few books they’d been using with their research, A Brief History of Griffon Culture. “There was something … here!” He flicked through the pages, coming to stop on one of the chapters they’d been referencing. “This, on the older griffon tongues.” He slid the book across the table, into place next to the memo and pushing a stack of photographs out of the way. “Look at the dates.”

There was a photograph at the top of the page, a famous photograph of one of the ancient “clan stones” that had served as a guide to the various languages used by the different griffon clans before the formation of the empire. It was what they had been using to try and make sense of the ancient griffon written across some of the surfaces in the photographs. Not that they’d had much success with that past their rough guess of the place’s name.

“Dates, huh?” Blade said as she ran her talon down the side of the page, where a column identified each of the dialects as well as when they were in popular use. “Huh,” she said as her talon stopped at the bullet for the dialect they’d been looking at. “You’re right, that is interesting.” The bullet claimed that the language had faded out of use around four hundred years before the founding of the empire.

“So the cult says this guy’s been here for over a thousand,” Hain said. “And yet the ancient griffon we’re looking at hasn’t been in use for almost seven hundred years before that.”

“Maybe the cult is just glancing at the horizon,” Blade said with a shrug. “The memo does say that it happened over a thousand years ago. That’s a lot of leeway to fly in.”

“What’s a lot of leeway?”

Blade looked up as Frost trotted into the room, the mare not even glancing at the rest of the galley as she took a seat at the table. It was almost strange to see her without a bow, though the same grim, determined look was still in her eyes.

“You might know, actually,” Blade said, nodding. “When was the cult founded?”

Frost blinked, one of the stronger reactions of surprise Blade could recall her making outside of combat. “Do you mean an actual date?”

“Yeah.”

She shook her head. “If they know, I don’t. All I could say for certain was that it happened over a thousand years ago, presumably around the same time that their big leader got himself killed. Or maybe a bit after … I wouldn’t put it past the cult to be based on an idea but never have had any actual real contact with their so-called ‘leader.’”

“Huh,” Blade said, the momentary sense of excited curiosity fading. “So all this really tells us is that the cult may have existed for longer than we thought.”

“What are you—?” Frost began, only to stop speaking as Blade slid the memo and book over towards her, tapping her talon atop both numbers.

“Ah,” she said, frowning. “Interesting.”

“That’s what I said,” Hain said. “I said it was interesting. Not that it was the solution to all our problems.”

“I didn’t say it was supposed to be, Hain,” Blade said, shaking her head as she looked back towards her own photographs. “And I agree. It is interesting. Going off of the dates for the language, it could mean this Sombra guy is a lot more ancient than we thought. That language died out around seventeen hundred years ago, but it was used for almost a thousand before that. This Sombra guy could have existed more than two thousand years ago. That’s before even the founding of Equestria, I think.”

“It could explain why we’ve never heard of him,” Hain agreed. “If he was pre-Equestria, then he could have been a ruler over the old unicorn nation, maybe.”

“It still doesn’t explain the griffon writing, though,” Blade said, shaking her head. “Timing matches up, and that would explain why a unicorn would be a king, when a thousand years ago most ponies were in Equestria which had—”

“Princess Celestia and Princess Luma—no, Luna.” Frost looked up from the history book. “I’ll admit I don’t know much about pre-Equestrian history. Or history itself, for that matter. But the logic is sound.”

“Doesn’t mean it’s correct,” Hain replied. “Trust me. Just because something makes logical sense isn’t enough to confirm it. But in this case, following the train of logic does seem to make sense.”

“I don’t know,” Blade said, sitting back and looking down at the scattered photographs and papers. “It still has holes. Those ancient pony nations existed far south of here, almost on the other end of the known world. There’s both a continent, and an ocean between them and the griffon empire. That’s thousands of miles to cover. So how would an ancient, speciest, unicorn king end up locked in a tomb on the Ocean of Endless Ice with engravings done by ancient griffons?” Silence reigned across the tabletop.

“I don’t know,” Hain said at last. Blade could see that a few of the griffons at nearby tables were glancing in their direction, eavesdropping on the discussion. “It makes sense, but it doesn’t. What worries me more,” he said, leaning forward and tapping one of the pictures of the stone arch once more. “Is that apparently, the cult isn’t asking any of these questions.”

“So?”

Blade wasn’t sure who had asked the question, but the rest of the room went silent as Hain turned to face the galley.

“So,” he said, his voice ringing through the room. “What it means is that we’ve got some sort of ancient grave or crypt or whatever that seems to have a magic lock. And we’re sitting here, with a good chunk of the cult’s research, and we still can’t tell you what’s inside.”

“And you don’t think it’s this king of theirs?” The voice was different, so the question had come from another griffon, but the crowd was still hanging on the words.

“I don’t think it really matters,” Hain said, shaking his head. “The cult is rotten. That should probably be enough of a reason to put a stop to whatever they’re trying to do.”

“But the other reason is this,” he continued, before anyone else could speak. “Some of the data lines up. But some of it doesn’t. The cult thinks it’s about to meet its long-sought founder. But if they’re wrong, well …” He turned, panning his eyes out across the room. “Things are usually locked for a reason. A crypt makes me doubly cautious. If the cult is right, and we don’t stop them in time, then according to them, they’re about to release an ancient unicorn king into the world who’s a representation of everything they stand for. But if they’re wrong?” He paused, the question seeping through the room like a cold chill.

“Well,” he said, his eyes narrowing. “If the cult is wrong, then maybe they’re just about to expose the bones of some ancient, crazy clan patriarch who decided they wanted to go out with style. Then again, there’s also a chance that they’re about to pick the lock on something old, ancient, and nasty enough that someone tried to bury it at the butt-end of the world to make us forget about it.” This time a cold chill did appear to echo through the room, the various officers eying one another and tightening their wings against their sides unconsciously.

“So we’d best get back to work,” Hain said as he turned back to the table, gesturing towards the spread of cult documents. “Because I, for one, would really like to settle on a solid answer before we go rushing in to stop them.”

Blade nodded as she looked back down at the pages, his words echoing in her mind. A couple of the griffons from the nearby tables rose and walked over to join them, asking if they could help. She passed a few of the photographs over towards them, once again turning the group’s focus toward the map that she and Hain had been putting together.

Hope for the best, prepare for the worst, she thought as the new arrivals began discussing the photographs among themselves, adding their own contributions to the map on the table. But this is one of those cases where I really do hope we’re getting the best. Up until now, she’d been operating under the assumption that the worst case they could encounter was an ancient, crazy king. Now, as she looked down at another picture of the strange stone arch, she wasn’t so sure.

Things are locked for a reason. A shiver crawled down her spine, like some sort of cold, multi-legged insect was picking its way across her back step by step. She glanced down at the photograph of the arch again, eyeing the faint shadows of bones frozen in the ice or scattered around the sides of the room. The ancient words, most of which she and Hain hadn’t been able to decipher, their meanings far too complex for the simple phrase comparison given by their available materials.

Things are locked for a reason, she thought. Her contact hadn’t mentioned King Sombra, no. But he had called it a key. Something told her she didn’t want to find out whether or not the cult was right about what it was a key for.

She pushed the paper aside and went back to working at the map. There was still time to ask Frost about what she’d been feeling, and to go over the map once more.

There was a lot of work ahead.

Count of Laws Broken: 0
Total Laws Broken: 63
Damage Value (In Bits): 0
Total Damage Value (In Bits): 390,896

Chapter 17 - The Vault of Bones

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Two miles west of the cultist dig site

“Incoming!” The ship shuddered as the sky lit with orange-red light, the bridge rocking underfoot as the Seeker rolled to one side, shuddering under the shockwave of the blast. Blade grabbed the nearby railing, wrapping her talons around the metal and steadying herself as the helm fought to get the ship back on course.

“That was close,” Kalos called from his raised position in the center of the bridge. His talons were wrapped tightly around his own personal rail, letting him stand on his hind legs and see every inch of the bridge as he shouted orders. “They must have a mage on one of those airships. See if we can figure out which one it is and then relay firing orders to the main guns.”

“Yes sir!” came the reply.

“And message the fleet. They need to know that they’re mixing in mages with the … Never mind.” Kalos’s words dropped off as several bursts of orange-red flame burst forth up and down the line of cult airships, arcing up through the sky and then detonating along the griffon line.

Well, Blade thought as the griffon fleet burst through the flames. If they haven’t figured that out by now ... One of the ships had been too close to the blasts; she could see ropes burning along its sides, and figures burst onto the deck, foam spraying from carefully held contraptions. The corvette went into a rapid climb as more gouts of flame and smoke gushed from the sides of the opposing airship, this time cannon fire. Airburst shells detonated near the corvette, rocking the vessel and sending one of the fire responders falling towards the ice.

“I think,” Kalos said as the Seeker shook again, metal fragments rattling against its armored sides. He cleared his throat. “I think that our estimates that their fleet was evenly split might have been a little overzealous.” He turned. “Signal the deck gunners to fire at will. I want ballista taking every shot they can. Full weapons authorization. If they want it, the gunnery loaders are to supply it. Empty the magazines.”

“Yes sir!” The communications officer he was looking at snapped a quick salute before speaking into her microphone. Somewhere on the deck and in the ammunition magazines, through a system that hadn’t been explained to Blade, small speakers and lighters were activating, relaying the griffons in that location their orders.

“Helm,” Kalos continued. “Take us up, then bring us down in a diagonal strike. Navigation, relay our movements to the rest of the fleet.” The Seeker shuddered again, rocking underfoot and groaning as something exploded nearby. The helm officer pulled at a few levers and the frigate began to rise, tilting forward and to one side to give the bridge a better view of the battle. Around them, the previously organized fleet was breaking up, airships moving every which way beneath the mostly cloudless sky, their colors muted under the silvery light of the moon. If not for the flashing rumble of distant explosions, it would have looked almost tranquil, Blade thought. Even the glowing, shimmering purple shield over the distant island that was their goal looked peaceful under the moonlight, despite the fact that the shield most certainly was covering a wide variety of anti-air weapons.

“Where are those ballistas!” Kalos cried. Blade looked at the forward deck just in time to see the first of the ballistas fire, its shot briefly visible as a silvery dart before being lost in the darkness. If it hit one of the cultist airships, she didn’t see it. Moments later the rest of the ballistas followed suit, their own shots arcing off into the night. There was a bright flash followed by a deep thump that resonated through the bridge as one of the main guns fired, rattling the windows in their housings. A bright red shot streaked through the night, slamming into the side of one of the Order’s ships and punching through the side metal. The airship continued on, unabated.

Kalos kept shouting orders as Blade ran her eyes over the line of enemy ships. They definitely hadn’t been made with an eye for aerodynamics or combat, like the griffon ships had. In fact, many appeared to be repurposed, modified minotaur designs: Rounded, ungainly things that weren’t designed to fly through the air as much as they were to shove it away. It wasn’t a perfect match—a few that were easily identifiable cultist-specific airships had a sleeker envelope, though not by much, and the decks of the ship were clearly laid out in a more compact fashion—but it wouldn’t have surprised her at all to find that there was an old, decommissioned minotaur airship somewhere in the pack.

At the moment though, she had to admit that the design was somewhat in the cultist’s favor. Minotaur airships were known for being, like most of their work, clunky and visually unappealing, but structurally solid, with multiple cells split across their envelopes, and a heavily reinforced, modular design. Unless there had been some changes to the blueprints, their ships wouldn’t be fast, but they would be durable.

And armed like hedgehogs, Blade thought as the Seeker rattled once more, this time with a low bang echoing down the length of the ship as they took a hit. She glanced towards Kalos, but he didn’t seem to be paying the noise any mind.

I guess if it’s a real problem, we’ll know about it pretty quick, she thought as she turned back to the window. Down below her, on the ice, she could see the telltale flashes of the two lines of ice-ships trading long range fire. Neither of them had gotten close enough for any real combat, however. Both the Bloodhooves’ and the Cragtooth’s ships were holding back, waiting for their aerial support to engage before they moved forward, lest they be caught out in the open by the more maneuverable airships.

Shouldn’t be long now, she thought as the Seeker kicked, the bridge shaking around her as one of the primary guns fired again. Around them she could see the rest of the griffon air fleet adopting similar tactics, one-third of the fleet dropping while another third rose, splitting the viable targets and coming at the cultist ships from multiple angles. Then, while those ships rolled past, the third portion of the fleet, including the Strike of Dawn and some of the heavier and slower but more well armed ships, would move up to keep the pressure on while both of the other strikes redeployed.

You might be tough, but we live in the skies, Blade thought as she watched one of the cultist airships take a nasty hit from what looked like an incendiary ballista bolt, rivers of fire washing across its decks. A magic sheet swept the flaming fluid overboard, but some of the wood had caught, and the magic user switched his sheet for a bubble, starving the the flames inside.

“Beginning dive,” the helmsclaw said. “Dropping now.”

Blade felt a familiar lightness in her gut as the Seeker began to drop through the sky, cutting down towards the cultist airships—airships that were now coming much closer. The rest of the fleet was carrying out similar maneuvers, dropping or rising through the sky, weapons blazing out at the cultist ships, who now seemed to realize what was going on. Blade risked a look down at the distant ice and noticed that the two fleets were crashing towards each other now, both sending out ranging fire.

A loud boom shook the ship, followed by a rattling noise as an airburst round rolled off the side. Another boom, this one close enough that the flash was almost blinding, and Blade flinched back as something took a chip out of the heavy glass she had been looking through. Part of her wanted to duck, to pull away—What if that glass broke?—but the more rational, curious part of her mind was telling her to stay, and to watch.

This is going to be the future of warfare, she thought as another cannonball burst nearby, followed by a wave of rapidfire fireballs that arced through the air, several of them exploding against the bow and sides of the Seeker. The ship shook, but held, and the few fires that broke out against the deck or the balloon were clearly not volatile enough for the crew to react.

It’s incredible, she thought as the Seeker’s main guns began to fire one after another, focusing their combined firepower on a single ship. The rounds began to chew through the armor, cutting through the gondola’s insides and spewing out the back in an explosion of wood, metal, and flame. They were close enough now that she could see the look of horror on a cultist’s face as he tumbled over the side, wrapping his foreleg around a stray rope at the last second.

A brighter, hotter shot tore through the night sky as one of the guns fired again. It looked like a falling star, white and pulsing with heat as it punched through the damaged airship’s armor and into the envelope. There was a rush of flame that jetted out the opening as the gas lit, the airship bucking as one of the gas-filled cells swelled and then detonated.

What was that? Blade wondered as the airship jerked to one side. They were almost alongside it now, but it wasn’t firing back, though its nearby siblings were, and without apparent regard for its safety. A magical bolt, clearly meant for the Seeker, missed and carved a burning hole across the wounded airship’s deck. The battle was too loud to hear the screams through the darkness, but she could see the panic of the crew as the airship began to drop, the gondola dropping with a jerk as one of the supports burned away.

“Focus on the wounded prey!” Kalos cried as the Seeker rocked again. The communications officer must have done his job, because moments later, just as the bridge was pulling up equal with the limping airship, another ballista bolt darted into the hole left by the ruptured cell. A detonation followed a moment later, and the airship began to drop like a stone, bleeding liftgas as it sank towards the ice.

That was just an explosive quarrel, Blade thought as she watched it go. The frigate was rattling almost constantly beneath her feet now, bangs and thuds echoing from the bulkheads as the remaining cultist ships worked together to focus their fire. But that first shot, the one that made the liftgas explode, what was that? Liftgas is stable stuff! You’d have to get it really hot to make it go like that.

An airburst round detonated right over the forward deck, a flash and a bang loud enough to stun her momentarily. Her vision cleared to show her a spiderweb of chips and cracks across the forwardmost bridge windows. One of them had cracked so heavily it almost couldn’t be seen out of.

“Helm, five degrees north, and tilt us!” Kalos barked. “I want our armored backside in-between us and that next shot before we reload. The props can take hits like that, we can’t.”

“Yes sir!” The horizon began to turn, rotating as the ship moved.

“Check the gunnery crews, and get wounded off the deck before we come around,” Kalos called as the ship shook again. “That hit had to have done some damage.”

The smoke left by the blast had cleared now, and Blade peered out through the damaged glass to see that her cousin had been right about the deck. Several griffons were lying on the deck, dead or bleeding out. As she watched several others began pulling them back toward the rear of the ship, towards the safety of the inside. Hopefully they’d live. If not, they’d died with honor.

“Starboard relay platform took a hit, sir,” the communications officer said. “Crew okay, requesting to remain in position.”

“Granted. Keep us in contact with the fleet.”

“Of course, sir, I—” Her face took on an intense look as she stared down at the board. “Fleet reports use of shadows, sir!”

“General alert status, possible boarders—”

“No response from the boiler-room sir! No—”

Blade saw the faint hint of purple forming in the air over Kalos’s head, followed by the familiar looking void of something that wasn’t night and leaped, her shriek sounding across the bridge as Kalos ducked in shock, his eyes wide. The appearing shadow didn’t even see her coming, his own attention on the crouching captain below him. Blade slammed into him, her claws biting deep into his flesh, burying themselves up to their full lengths against his ribs. He hit the deck hard, his wide, shocked eyes going dim as the side of his head met the wooden deck with a hollow thunk. He was dead before she could pull her claws out of him, his heart lacerated by her attack. There was a metal ping as his long, thin blade, the edge glistening with something wet, hit the deck behind her.

“Thanks,” Kalos said, his eyes wide. “That was close.” Then he turned to his communications officer. “Report!”

“Boiler-room is secure, we’ve reestablished contact!” the comm officer called, one pair of talons cradling her headset to her head. Earlier Blade had tried them on and heard faint voices coming from the other end. She’d guessed, though the officer hadn’t confirmed, that it was tied somehow to the microphones she’d seen in walled boxes around the ship. “There was a shadow there, but the ice unicorn—Frost—was waiting for her. The shadow has been neutralized.”

“Good,” Kalos said. “Anything else?”

“Another shadow near the galley, sir,” the comm officer continued, her voice smooth and steady. “Two wounded, one dead, but they got him. His blade was poisoned, but the medical team is on it.”

“Good,” Kalos said. “Damage?”

“Nothing new,” she replied. “No permanent or disabling damage sustained during the fight.”

“Bring us around, helm,” Kalos ordered. The Seeker began to turn, angling away from the distant purple shield around their target. “Prepare to slow.”

“Signal from the fleet!” comms said. “Additional enemy fleets converging on our position from the east and the north.

“What?” Kalos asked in apparent shock. Half the bridge crew froze at the announcement. “Two?”

“Yes sir,” the comm officer replied. “New orders. We’re to make our run on the shield and drop the insertion team now. Strike of Dawn and Eye of the Storm will cover with their attendant ships.”

“Thunder and lightning,” Kalos said, shaking his head. “Belay the turn! Put us back on course for the island and match speed with the destroyers.” He pulled himself back up into his usual position before glancing towards Blade. “And you’d better get below, with your team,” he said, gesturing towards the rear of the bridge. “We’re not going to have more than one shot at this, so make it count! And somebody get this body off my bridge!”

The rest of the team was already waiting for her in the galley by the time she arrived, clad in their gear and ready to go. The Seeker was shaking underfoot now, faint bangs echoing through the hull as the defensive emplacements on the island fired up at it. It was taking a beating, that much was certain.

“Ready?” she asked, looking at the rest of the group. Hain was wearing his light armor again, as was Barnabas. Alchemy was, as usual, wearing just his combat harness, though from the look of the pockets, he’d brought along plenty of vials of potion for the fight. Frost was just wearing her usual light garb, though it looked a bit looser than normal. A new bow—or at least one Blade hadn’t seen before—was slung around her shoulders.

“This way,” a griffon said, signaling her and the team to follow him through the ship. “We only have the one small drop bay, so we’re going to need to pack you in pretty tight.”

“Are we getting parachutes this time?” Barnabas asked. “Because last time we tried this, we got pretty winded.”

“The harnesses will work fine,” Alchemy said as they stepped into a large, empty room with a raised walkway ringing it. There was a large but tight seam running down the middle. “Trust me. We’re going straight down this time.”

“Right,” Barnabas said as the griffon passed Barnabas, Frost, and Alchemy rope harnesses similar to the one that Blade and Hain had made for Alchemy at the shipyard. “At least I hope you’re right. I won’t look good as a pancake.” He twisted the harness around his axe.

“We’ll be fine,” Blade said. “Trust Alchemy on this one. Hain and I can slow you and Frost easily enough.” Besides, she thought as she stepped up behind the minotaur. The real worry is that shield being down at the right time.

She looked over at the griffon, who was standing by another one of the metal communications boxes. “Does the fleet want us to take down the shield once we’re inside?” she asked.

The griffon shook his head. “No,” he said. “Leave the shield to us. They’ll have to keep it up, which means less mages available to keep you from getting to your objective.”

“Right,” Blade said as the griffon motioned them into the center of the room, right over the seam. Stopping that key. “Frost, you feel anything?”

“The pressure’s getting stronger,” Frost said as she got into position, Barnabas crouching and then hooking the front of his harness to hers. Alchemy walked up to the unicorn and attached the back of his harness to the front of hers. They almost looked like they were playing a child’s game.

“How much stronger?” Blade asked as she took up position behind Barnabas, Hain at her side, both of them connecting their own harnesses to the minotaur's. They were “the parachute.”

“It’s building,” Frost said. “Sort of like … Sort of like the ice before it cracks.”

Not a good thing, then, Blade thought as she secured her talons against Barnabas’s shoulders. The stance was a little unwieldy, but that wouldn’t matter once they dropped. “Everyone locked in tight?” A series of tugs made their way up the harness as each member of the team checked.

“Good to go.”

“I’m ready.”

“Clear here.”

“Locked in.”

“Then we’re ready,” she said, giving her own harness a short, quick tug and feeling the material jerk against her shoulders. This is going to be cold. She glanced over at their guide as the Seeker’s shuddering increased beneath them, a loud bang echoing through the ship. “Whenever you’re ready.”

The griffon nodded and stepped up next to a small, raised console. “Any minute now,” he said as a white light began flashing. “Brace yourself.” Another bang echoed through the ship, the deck shaking beneath her, and she spread her rear legs slightly, lowering her center of gravity.

“We’re getting close,” the griffon said as the white light began to flash faster. Somewhere on one of the exterior observation ports there was a griffon eyeing the ship’s position relative to the target, and as soon as he decided it was time—

“Drop!” The word had barely registered when the ground gave way beneath her, the bay doors dropping them into the night. She clamped down at her reflexes, fighting the urge to spread her wings and instead tucking them close against her body, only opening the very tips to adjust their course and maneuver the group so that they were falling in a straight stack, Alchemy at the bottom, and her and Hain above.

The sky around them was filled with fire, much of it aimed at the Seeker, but some of it aimed at the two destroyers behind it. Both ships were returning fire as quickly as they could, deafening booms echoing across the sky as multiple guns fired again and again at the purple dome below.

Nice job, Blade thought as the roar of the wind continued to grow, drowning out all but the loudest of the gunfire. Below them, the shimmering, purple shield was coming up fast, but it was right below them. Almost dead center. Perfect.

The shield rippled as another burst of cannon-fire detonated against its surface, shimmering waves of color spreading out in all directions as the magic fought to hold back the assault. She could see the focal points of the spell now, six-heavily defended but quickly constructed emplacements at equal points along the inside rim of the shield’s base. That was where the majority of the mages would be, the bunkers providing them with a source of protection while they kept the spell going. Another wave of shots slammed into the shield’s surface, and the brief flash allowed her time to pick out the hedgehog of defensive weaponry mounted on the bunker rooftops.

They’re determined to hold, she thought as the makeshift anti-airship emplacements fired, sending lightweight shells into the sky. The flashing from the blasts allowed her to pick out the details of the rest of the island, and she ran her gaze over the meager structures, looking for the entrance to their target.

It wasn’t hard to find, but then the island wasn’t that big. A cluster of what looked like temporary structures had been built around a well-lit, central area, with rows of tents spread out about it in a circle. A large, ominous looking stone structure was at the center of the lit space, one end open to the elements. Outside of that, most of the island was bare save for what looked like a few grounded airships.

That’s our entrance, she thought, her eyes sliding back to the stone structure. Time to start looking for a landing site. Before we hit. Provided the shield goes down.

Another wave of shots rolled into the shield, and she saw the edges began to flicker. “Hain!” she called, jerking her head towards the tents on the edge of the dig site. If all the cultists were in the bunkers or in the vault, then the tents would probably be abandoned. “Aim for the tents!”

“Got it!” They began sliding through the air, both of them working in tandem to guide their freefall. The surface of the dome was sweeping up at them now, expanding to fill their world as it came closer and closer.

Come on … Blade thought as the guns fired again, the surface of the shield shimmering but holding. That’s getting really close … close! Close!

The guns fired again, their impact against the shield close enough that she felt her ears pop as the shockwave rippled over her—and then the shield was gone, and she let out a breath she was barely aware she’d been holding as they slipped past the space where the barrier had been.

“Wait for it,” she said, eyeing the ground below. They were still about two hundred feet from the ground and dropping fast. One hundred and fifty feet. One hundred feet. Seventy-five. Fifty.

“Now!” She and Hain flared their wings out at the same moment, muscles quivering as their limbs strained against the sudden resistance. Below them, Alchemy jerked once and then dropped, releasing his harness and falling the last fifty feet on his own. He slammed into a tent, the cloth almost exploding around him as he hit. She had enough time to see the cloth settle over him, and then they were approaching the ground, and she pulled her own release, the knots coming apart and disconnecting her from Barnabas and Frost. Both of them waited for the telltale jerk of being released before pushing away from one another, and she saw both of them land with hard rolls just before the ground rushed up at her, though bereft of the extra weight, she was able to fold her wings and come to a hard but manageable landing.

She tucked her sore wings against her sides, ignoring the cries of relief from her burning muscles as she took a quick look around at the nearby tents, checking to see if anyone had noticed their descent. Luck was with them. With the multiple airships overhead, no one appeared to have seen their landing.

The shield snapped back into place just as a new wave of shots burst forth from the two destroyers, but as they slammed into the shield Blade could see that they’d fired fewer numbers than before. They didn’t need to drop the barrier anymore, just keep the ponies sustaining it preoccupied so her team could make the assault on the vault.

Speaking of which … She panned her eyes across the makeshift landing site. “Everyone okay?” she asked, keeping her voice low. “Any injuries?”

“It hurt,” Barnabas said, shaking his head as he picked himself up from the cold dirt. “And my eyes are watering, but that’s about it.” He reached over his shoulder and grabbed the handle of his greataxe, the sheath letting it loose with a faint click.

“I’m good,” Hain said, giving his wings a quick flap but otherwise showing no sign that they’d just dropped almost a half a mile through the air.

“Ready,” Frost said, her bow already drawn, her eyes searching the nearby camp for signs of cultists.

One corner of the demolished tent was thrown back, Alchemy striding out with a pained look on his face. “I always forget how much that hurts,” he said, shaking his body as if he was a dog throwing off water. “Had a nasty break that time, even if the tent did break my fall. Left a bit of a crater, too.”

“You good to move?” she asked. The orange earth pony nodded, his short-cut white mane bobbing in the dim light.

“Right.” She turned towards the dig site, eyeing the large magilights ringing it. Fortunately, most of them were aimed inward, towards the dig. They’d have a bit of an advantage getting close if there were any guards. “Let’s move. Alchemy—” She glanced in Hain’s direction as she spoke, checking to see if the griffon disagreed with her orders. “—you take point. Frost, follow behind. Keep in sight at all times. We’ll follow. You see guards, hit them fast.”

“I can do that,” Frost said, lifting her bow.

“Good. How’s the pressure?”

“Still rising,” Frost said, her eyes narrowing. “It’s definitely getting stronger.”

“Right.” Blade looked up at the distant lights. “Then let’s move fast.”

They darted between the tents, moving down the rows at a fast sprint and occasionally circling around the odd larger structure that someone had set up. No one emerged to stop them, or even to shout in warning. The cultist’s camp was deserted, completely empty. Everyone was either manning an airship, helping defend the island or … down in the vault. She didn’t like the uneasy feeling the last one gave her.

The camp came to a sudden end, the line of tents stopping just shy of the ring of towering magilights. There was a depression in the ground, a dug out pit with the stone structure at its bottom, the arching entrance at the front just high enough that the tip would have been above ground level had it still been buried. The diggers had excavated it in layers, leaving steps of wide, level ground taller than she was leading down to the opening. A rough wooden walkway alternating with stairs made its way from one end of the pit to center, but Alchemy ignored it completely, jumping over the edge of the pit and rising high into the air before dropping down out of sight. Frost followed him a moment later, dropping into the pit with her bow at the ready.

By the time Blade dropped over the edge, spreading her sore wings slightly to glide past the first few levels of dirt, the two guards standing by the base of the entrance had already been disabled, one by an arrow through the chest, the other by what looked like a very fast strike from Alchemy. If the caved-in ribcage was anything to go off of.

“Inside,” Blade said as she dropped to the ground next to the opening. She could see an entryway of sorts inside, a high-ceiled room with a row of free-standing pillars running down each side. Magilights had been hung by wires along the roof, but the bright, white light did little to detract from the dull, ominous grey of the stone. At the far end of the room she could see the stairway down into the rest of the vault.

“One of them might have gotten a spell off,” Frost said as they stepped through the opening and into the entryway. “But I think it was a misfired attack. No way to be sure, though.”

“Great,” Blade said, glancing at the stairs and then picking up speed. “Then we’d better—Watch out!”

A sharp whine filled the room, a piercing, buzzing screech filling her ears as a transparent, grey surface swept towards her. She dove to one side, noting as she did so that the magic appeared to be sweeping over every surface it passed seamlessly, almost as if it was passing through the stone itself, and then it was rolling across her body, its high-pitched shriek echoing through her head. She hit the ground in a panic, looking down at herself and then back at the strange magic as it swept over the rest of her team, continuing onward until it reached the entrance, where it vanished.

“What was that?” she asked, glancing at the rest of the team and then down at herself. Nothing about her seemed out of place—she hadn’t changed colors or anything, and there was nothing apparent that she could see. The back of her mind itched, and she felt adrenaline flood her system. Did it do something to my head? She didn’t feel any different, but if that had been some sort of mind-altering magic, wouldn’t that be the point?

“It felt like a scanning spell,” Frost said, shaking her head. “Sort of like a medical scan, but different.”

“So the cult knows we’re here,” Blade said, the itch in the back of her mind fading. “What about the itch in my head? Anyone else feel it?” Alchemy and Hain both nodded, though Barnabas just shrugged. Lucky magic resistance.

“It felt almost like a probe of some kind,” Frost said, frowning as she lit her own horn. “ I didn’t detect anything past that. I think that’s all it was. Just a scan.”

“Right,” Blade said, feeling slightly more at ease as she turned towards the stairs. “Then we need to move. Now. The cult will be on the move.”

“Actually,” Frost called as they moved onto the stairs, their movements echoing down into the vault. “I don’t think that was the cult!”

“What?” Blade asked, looking back at her. “Why not?”

“It didn’t feel like the cult,” she said. “If it happens again I’ll try and pin it down, but something was different.”

Blade felt another shiver of alarm crawl down her back at the mare’s words. Maybe they were already too late. “You think it’s that king?” Her talons scraped against the rock as she slipped on the smooth stone, and she flared her wings slightly to catch herself.

“I don’t know,” Frost admitted. “I’ll try to pin it down—voices!”

Blade snapped her head back to the front as shouts and yells began to echo up the stairwell at them. She could see the bottom of the stairs now, a flat, stone landing with only a single exit: a wide, tall, stone doorway that opened into one of the vault’s other rooms.

“There they are!” a unicorn shouted as he ran in the doorway, pointing up at them with one hoof. There was a red band around the base of his horn. A chosen. “Sound the ala-aaaiiigh!” Frost’s arrow had punched clean through the stallion’s outstretched foreleg. A second arrow followed a moment later, cutting the echoing scream off abruptly.

Alchemy jumped, clearing the last fifteen feet of stairs and barely stopping as he slammed into the landing at the bottom, leaping forward and through the doorway in a rush. Shouts rang out beyond it, cries of anger and pain mixed with the recognizable snap-hiss of magical firepower. Blade followed his example, pushing away from the stairs and throwing herself towards the bottom, spreading her wings as she neared the end of the stairs and shooting through the doorway with a burst of speed.

The room was chaos. She didn’t recognize the room from the pictures they’d been looking at, but the layout was simple enough. It was long and rectangular, its center in line with the doorway she’d entered and lowered, almost as if the creator had wanted its occupants to walk through it at chest height with the rest of the room. Statues were set on raised plinths at regular intervals along the path, flanking the walkway, and behind them, on either side, were pillars half-shrouded in ice. The room had never been fully excavated.

Alchemy was locked in a melee battle in the center of the room, his hooves flying, though he seemed to be doing more dodging than attacking. There were more than a dozen cultists surrounding him, several of them close enough that they were swinging hooves, but many of the rest were standing back and launching spells or looking in her direction. It was only a matter of time before one of them hit.

Blade let out a shriek, extending her claws as magic rose up to meet her. She didn’t bother to dodge, letting the first two blasts of fire sweep over her, the heat around her rising, rising, and then sucking into her body. She emerged from the flames smoking but alive, the closest mage having only time to open her mouth in shock before Blade’s now-flaming talons met her throat. The mage fell, smoke curling from her corpse, but Blade had already moved on, heading for the next available target. A roar behind her told her that Barnabas had entered the fray, and she saw Hain fly by overhead, his knife stabbing out as he descended and catching an unaware cultist in the back.

A magic bolt hit her in the side, spitting against her armor and kicking her hindquarters back, and she spun, spreading her wings and dodging the chosen’s next shot before shoulder-checking him to the ground. His head hit the stone, hard, and she turned to see Alchemy land a hit that sent a cultist flying into one of the bowing statues, bouncing off of the outstretched stone … wing?

Three cultists bolted for the far exit, and she tore her gaze away from the statue just in time to see Frost cut down two of them with her arrows. The third managed to make it into the next room, cutting around the doorway as an ice arrow cracked against the doorframe. It was only because she was looking at the doorway that she saw the oncoming glowing grey wall before the familiar rising whine began to fill her ears, and she threw herself up, climbing into the air. The translucent magic moved much quicker this time, sweeping through the room and everything in it. Again she felt the faint, familiar itching in the back of her mind, but this time it felt more urgent, almost curious. Her ruff prickled, feathers rising as the light swept over her, her stomach twisting as she felt … something … she couldn’t say what ... brush against her mind. Then it was gone, the glowing grey wall moving past her and the rest of the room and vanishing through the doorway to the stairwell, the whine going with it.

Focus. She shook her head and dropped out of the sky, tackling one of the two unicorns that had been battling Hain. These two had at least had the sense to pull short blades from somewhere among their robes and use them, but Hain was holding them back, and as she fell on one of the pair, the old griffon darted forward, his knife pushing aside the other’s blade and then making short work of him.

The last cultist went down in a heap, the back of his head slamming into the base of one of the statues with a dull, wet thunk that echoed around the room. Alchemy stepped back, dropping into a neutral stance once more before relaxing and turning for the door.

“Frost!” Blade called, spotting the ice-blue mare at the end of the room. “Did you check it that time?”

“The wall?” she said. Blade nodded. “It’s a scanning spell. But it’s mental, too. It’s not doing anything but skimming the surface, but it’s definitely probing at our heads. It’s not leaving anything.”

“Is it the cult?” Blade asked. Frost just shook her head.

“I can’t tell. It doesn’t feel like any of the magic they use but it’s hard to tell,” she said. “And that pressure is still building.”

“Then we’d better move,” Blade said, turning and then pausing as the rest of the group rushed past her.

“Blade?” Hain called, stopping as the rest of the group ran out of the room. “What are you looking at?”

“The statue,” Blade said, looking up at the same stone carving that had caught her eye earlier. “It’s a griffon.”

“What?”

Blade looked up and down at the rest of the statues along the walkway, eyeing them. Each one was a different species … but none of them was a unicorn. In fact, none of them were even ponies.

Diamond dog, griffon, minotaur, and … She frowned as she looked at the statues flanking the exit further into the vault. Is that a jackal?

“Blade,” Hain said as distant shouts beginning to echo up at theme from further down the vault. “We need to move. We might not have much time.”

“Wait,” she said, stepping up statue’s base. “Why no unicorns?”

“No unicorns?” Hain paused, taking a closer look at the rest of the statues. “You’re right.”

“Why would a unicorn supremacist have statues of races all deemed ‘inferior?’” She asked as she stepped up to the base of the statue. There was something written there, still caked with ice that hadn’t been properly scraped away. She brushed it with one talon, the ice breaking free and falling in small clumps.

“Maybe because they’re bowing,” Hain said, turning towards the doorway. “Come on! We can’t get split up!” A distant roar echoed up the hallway. Barnabas had engaged someone.

“Just a second,” she said, her eyes tracing the ancient words carved into the stone. “There’s something written here. Probably on all the statues.” She narrowed her eyes, thinking back on all the hours she’d spent trying to make sense of the same markings on the Seeker. These looked familiar, but she wasn’t sure … Wait.

“This one says ‘praise,’” she said, tapping the glyph. “And this one …” It looked familiar, but she couldn’t quite place it. Bones? No, not with that first bit so close by.

“It’s probably ‘Praise Sombra,’ or something like that,” Hain said, shaking his head. “Now come on, kit, let’s—”

“No,” she said as it clicked. Of course she’d seen it before. It was a word that hadn’t changed too much over the last thousand years. A similar symbol was still used as a logo by several military groups. A chill ran down her spine, her mouth going dry as she translated the full phrase. “It says: Praise death.” She glanced over at the older griffon, who had paused in mid-sentence.

“Praise death?” he repeated. “But …”

“Hain, whoever it is that cult is about to wake up, we need to stop it fast,” she shouted as she turned and ran past him, bolting into the hallway at the end of the room. “Because I don’t think it’s who they think it is!”

“Well who is it then?” Hain called as they burst out of the hallway into another room. This one was square, the floor divided into nine equal segments, four of which—one in each corner—were raised to about knee height. Strange chunks of stone poked their way free of the ice around the edges, carved into geometric shapes that seemed to serve no purpose. The door on the far side of the room connected to another hallway, while two more doors at equal points to each side led elsewhere. Cultists were rushing out of one of them, their horns aglow.

The center of the room was a chaotic melee, and she dove into the fight without bothering to answer Hain, her talons lashing out at the closest target and cutting tracks down a cultist’s side. Alchemy blurred past her, moving so fast he almost appeared to be teleporting as he ducked under a chosen’s attack and then brought his hoof into the pony’s face. Barnabas was on her other side, roaring as spells bounced off him, each one making him move just a little faster, hit a little harder.

An answering roar met Barnabas’s from down the hallway, and Blade looked over to see a bruin charging down the hall, his body swelling under the influence of his strange magic. Another four chosen were behind him, followed by another mage, this one levitating several swords alongside himself. Barnabas answered the bruin’s roar with a yell of his own and then charged to meet the enchanted unicorn head-on, his axe smashing the pony’s head aside with one mighty swing before the pair crashed into one another.

Blade took another initiate down, her long talons making quick work of the armorless pony. Typical magic user, she thought as she rounded on another one, slamming them into the ground and then using his body as a springboard to launch herself at another mage. No armor, all magic. The mage’s horn lit, two swords dropping from under his cloak and cutting through the air at her from both sides. She blocked both with her talons, the shock of the impact reverberating up her forelegs as she came down in a mighty headbutt, her forehead meeting the mage’s just at the base of his horn. He fell back, the magic glow vanishing, and she took him down.

She turned. Alchemy was dueling the remaining mage, dancing around his four blades so quickly she again was almost convinced he was teleporting somehow. Nearby, the bruin had five arrows sticking out of his body, another appearing in his back as she watched, but the massive unicorn was still trading blows with Barnabas.

Hain darted in to assist Alchemy, his knife glinting in the light as he struck one of the mage’s hovering blades. The mage stumbled under the telekinetic backlash, thrown off by the attack, and Alchemy seized on the weakness, his front hooves pounding a rapid tempo across the pony’s face. The blades—and the mage—slumped to the ground.

Another heavy thump echoed across the room a moment later as the bruin fell, dead at last, eight arrows in his body. Barnabas let out a satisfied laugh, slapping his dented armor as he picked up his axe once more.

“Come on,” she called, waving them further forward. “We’ve got to stop them from using that key!”

Another whine filled the air as she stepped into the hallway, the translucent grey wall once again rushing over her and setting her teeth on edge. Again, something tickled the back of her mind, only this time she felt another new emotion flowing through the wave … Amusement?

“Got it!” Frost called as the wall continued onward. “It’s definitely not cult. I don’t know what it is. It doesn’t feel like unicorn magic.”

“Tartarus!” Blade shouted as they burst into another room. This one she did recognize from their studies. It was long and rectangular, twice the length of the first room the they’d entered, and much wider. Raised stone walkways stretched around the outside of the room, slanting ramps leading downward to the main floor, which was almost a full ten feet below the entryway. Strange slopes made trapezoidal shapes wide enough to fight on. Here and there were frozen bits of ice that no one had bothered to excavate, and she could see why as she noticed the faint, white bone poking through their surfaces.

And at the far end of the room, two ramps ran up the wall to converge on the doorway out. She knew where they were. There was only another short hallway, some sort of atrium, balcony area, and then they’d reach the vault itself. All they had to do was reach the far door.

Easier said than done with the near two-dozen cultists littered across the room, some with crossbows, others with swords, and a few with spells. But she knew she couldn’t wait. Whatever was about to happen in the next room, it couldn’t be good, and she let out an echoing shriek as she dove towards the closest cultist, ignoring the pain as a bolt of magic found its way through her armor.

Shouts filled the air as the two groups clashed, and everything faded away to violence. Strike. Block. Dodge. A crossbow bolt struck her wing and she pushed through the pain as she took down cultist after cultist. The rest of the team was alongside her, working in tandem as they cut their way towards the center of the room.

Praise death. The phrase echoed in her mind as she took down another mage, grabbing the stallion by the horn and ignoring the burning sensation along her talons as she slammed his head against the ground. Was the phrase abstract or a name? A lot of individuals and groups had gone by the name over the years, and a lot of those were pretty infamous. Some more than others.

Bad is bad, she thought as Alchemy batted a crossbow bolt from the sky and then darted after its owner, pinning the cultists against a wall. But anyone who gets a tomb like this made … Doors are locked for a reason.

Barnabas cleaved a mage almost in half, roaring as more spells slammed into him. He had an arrow sticking out of his shoulder, and he snapped it off with a casual backhand. Frost was firing again and again, her arrows streaking out so quickly she appeared to be painting a continuous stream. Ice had grown over parts of her body, shielding her from the cult's returning strikes. Hain was striking with precise, quick cuts, ignoring the blackened portion of his wing.

A pair of roars echoed across the room as two bruins, so identical they might have been twins, moved in concert down the distant ramps and began galloping towards them. She saw Alchemy throw his head back, sucking down another dose of his potion, and then he exploded forward, rushing to meet the pair of enraged mares. The crack of his hoof meeting one of their jaws echoed across the room, stone beneath his hooves breaking away in small chunks as the charging bruin came to an abrupt stop.

Once again a whine filled the air. Once again the grey wall swept across them. Once again, her mind tingled, and this time she was certain she could feel something probing at her thoughts, alive and aware. It felt … happy. Like it was laughing, not at her, but at the whole situation.

Then it was gone and the fight raged on. Most of the cultists were down now, the bruins and a few holdouts all that was left. Alchemy was a blur as he darted between the pair, redirecting their slower, clumsier attacks and pummeling them mercilessly. Blade watched in amazement as he caught one of their blows and shifted, twisting the mare’s foreleg and yanking her body around before her joint reached the limits of its range with a jerk. Alchemy continued onward with the motion, lifting the bruin into the air and flinging her into the wall.

Blade dropped the mage she’d been beating and jumped to help as the second bruin bore down on him. The first was still getting up, but she didn’t look much worse for the wear, and only let out a shout of rage as two arrows appeared in her chest. One of them began to spread, and the mare battered the ice away with a casual blow.

“Release the behemoth!” someone was shouting. “Release the behemo—” The voice cut off with a gurgle.

She took a quick look around the rest of the room as she neared the bruin. There were only a few cultists left, and as she watched, Hain and Frost took two of them down. She turned and raked her claws across the bruin, her talons barely penetrating the mare’s enchanted hide.

A deep, steady rumble was filling the room, another roar echoing from the exit hallway. Something big was moving down it, but she didn’t have time to look as she ducked a blow from the bruin.

“Behemoth!” Frost called, a slight note of panic in her voice. “Behemoth!”

“What’s a behem—! Oh ...” Blade said as the hulking figure burst through the doorway. It was an earth pony … or at least it had been, before … something … had been done to it. It was more than twice the size of the bruins, its skin stretched so tight over swollen muscles that it had split in several places. Blood and pus oozed from open sores across its body, and there were heavy metal shackles around each of its legs. A single look at its eyes told Blade all she needed to know. Whatever this pony had been—whoever it had been—it was completely mad with pain now, a creature of insane terror and suffering. Everyone seemed to freeze, even the bruins, as the brute slammed its hooves against the floor, shaking the room and letting out a mad howl.

“We need to put it out of its misery!” Barnabas called, moving first and ramming one of the bruins with his shoulder. The bruin stumbled back and then fell, sliding down one of the slanting ramps and coming to a stop near the behemoth. The brute’s eyes snapped to the fallen pony and it reared back, its head reaching past the upper level. It brought its forward hooves down atop the fallen bruin. There was a heavy crunch, and the enchanted cultist stopped moving.

“It’s an earth pony they did something to!” Barnabas yelled. “Experiments! We’ve just got to—oh pits.” Familiar purple voids began to appear in the air, four shadows teleporting in around the room.

“Just kill it!” Barnabas shouted as the abomination began to gallop forward, its eyes brimming with madness, foam leaking from the corners of its mouth. Then he jumped away, and Blade was forced to dodge as a shadow’s blade cut through the air where her neck had been, the unicorn vanishing before she could respond.

Another grey wall swept by, the whine filling the air and the same feeling of distant amusement filling her mind. Breath hissed through clenched teeth as a shadow’s blade tore at her left side, cutting through the gap left between the armor. She caught the mare’s head with the side of her wing, ignoring the pain, but missed with a follow-up as the mare teleported anyway. Alchemy and Barnabas were both fighting the behemoth, mostly dodging and trying to wear it down, while Hain was working to keep two shadows off their backs. The other was dueling Frost, though Blade had a feeling she knew how that would turn out.

She feinted, leaving an opening but failing to connect as the mare ported away once more. She wasn’t going to be fooled by such an easy measure. There was no way around it. Without a real opening, she couldn’t get one of her own.

She let her wing hang out, wide open for a solid hit, bracing herself as the mare appeared, spearing her short blade right through it. She bit back the pain, clenching her teeth as she pulled her wing in, tugging the blade free. The shadow hesitated as her magic was disrupted, and then her eyes went wide as Blade’s rear leg caught her in the throat. She vanished, only to appear a few feet away, hacking and clutching at her crushed windpipe.

Blade winced as she tugged the shadow’s weapon free. The she stepped up to the frantic-looking mare, flipping the thin implement in her talons.

Not worth it. She slammed the mare’s head into the stone; once, then twice. The shadow slumped, unconscious.

There was a shout from behind her, and she turned to see Alchemy fly through the air before slamming into the far wall. He slumped to the ground, either unconscious or dazed. The behemoth let out another roar and swung at Barnabas. The minotaur stepped aside, but the shadow teleporting in at his back came in too late to move, and the hoof slammed into her, knocking her across the room. An arrow met her path mid-flight, and her strugglings ceased.

There was a scream of pain as Hain finished the last shadow, and then it was just them and the behemoth. Come on, Blade thought as she leapt into the air, her one wing giving her a little extra lift. We need to move! She landed on the behemoth’s back, the creature letting out a surprised shout as her claws dug into its tight skin. The skin began to peel back as she cut into it, revealing the reddened flesh beneath it.

“Come on!” The distracted behemoth’s head snapped to one side as Barnabas’s axe cut into it. It let out a roar, jerking and lifting a hoof. An ice arrow burrowed itself in the meat of its foreleg, ice growing across its hoof and jerking it down beneath the sudden weight.

With an angry yell, Alchemy launched and hit the other side of the creature’s head, a crack echoing across the room as the jaw shattered. Blade was thrown from its back as it bucked, grunting in pain as she spread both wings to keep herself from being smeared against the ceiling. Another wall of ice began to engulf the monster’s other hoof, and it let out a confused roar as the ice froze its leg to the ground.

“I am putting you,” Barnabas said, hefting his axe and winding it back. “Out ... of your ... misery!” He swung the axe forward with the last word. A sickening crunch filled the room as the blade bit through bone, and then the minotaur dropped to one side, sagging with an exhausted sigh as the behemoth went limp, its head falling to the ground, no longer connected to its body. It had been decapitated.

“We can’t stop!” Frost called, running up as Blade came in to land by the body. “The pressure’s spiking! Whatever they’re doing, they’re almost done!” An electric hum began to fill the air, the stone quivering slightly beneath them.

“Alchemy, healing! Poison antidote!” Blade snapped. The earth pony complied, rapidly pulling small vials from his harness and tossing them at the team before tugging his own free and downing it. “They’re small,” he said as Blade swallowed hers. “But they’ll help.”

“We need to move!” Blade shouted, tossing the empty vials aside and running for the end of the room, the rest of her team behind her as they entered the short hallway. Just one more room and then—”

“Stop right there.” Blade slid to a halt as they burst into the next room. It was the circular one she’d seen pictures of, with two stairways winding along to the wall to the door on the far upper side. The floor in front of her was covered in glowing magic, along with glowing wires and all manner of magic implements. The voice itself had come from a mare standing up by the door, grinning as she looked down at them. Her cutie mark was a wire snare made of magic.

“Tripwire,” Barnabas said as he saw the mare.

“Indeed,” the mare said, smiling. “You’ve killed a lot of my shadows tonight, but don’t expect to make it through this room alive. I’ve coated every inch of that floor and the stairway with traps. The only safe spots are where you’re standing and where I’m—”

For a moment Blade thought that the mare had grown a second horn, but then Frost stepped up alongside the group, lowering her bow as she stared up at the stunned cult mage.

“You should stop talking so much,” Frost said as the mare slumped forward, her eyes rolling back into her head as she fell from the balcony. Tripwire’s body hit the floor, and Blade stepped back, shielding her eyes as the room filled with brilliant flashes. When she could see again, nothing was left of the cult mage but a scorched, charred corpse.

“Go!” she shouted, moving for the stairs now that the magic was gone. “Move!” Another wall of grey swept through, and this time she could almost hear the laughter, not harsh or cruel, but almost … almost like the thing making it was enjoying what it saw.

They ran down the hallway, the electric buzz growing louder and louder around them. The floor was vibrating beneath them, the stone itself humming with energy. Up ahead she could see the doorway into the vault room itself, and beyond that the triangular stone arch. Sparks of grey energy were bounding up and down its length, and she could see a faint distortion around the edge of the stone, like the world itself was twisting. A chanting sound had filled the air.

“Stop!” she shouted as she burst out into a wide open room. Almost a dozen cultists were clustered around the base of the giant slab the arch was standing on, and they turned as she entered. Atop the slab was a single, red unicorn, standing in front of a familiar-looking, floating crystalline object. It was the key. And Sagis’s hooves were already on it.

“Stop them!” he cried as Frost loosed an arrow. A mage swatted it from the air. Blade jumped forward, diving towards the unicorn as magic filled the air around her. The whole cavern was humming with power now, arcs of pure energy jumping from the key to the slot it was floating over and back again. Something pressed her down, hard, and she lost track of Sagis as she lashed out at a cultist, the rest of her team at her side.

“Sagis!” she shouted, shoving a cultist out of the way and giving herself a clear view again. “Don't! It’s not—!”

“King Sombra will rise again!” The unicorn’s voice echoed above the din as he rose up, lifting his hooves high in the air, and then drove them down, slamming the key home. The entire room seemed to freeze, everything stopping as the crystal dropped into place with a dull but faint click.

Then there was a massive crack, a wave of energy blasting out from the key and blasting across the room in a wave, knocking everyone to the ground as the archway began to glow white, energy building up along its sides. As one, every unicorn in the room doubled over in pain, clutching at their horns as arcane energies began to build. Then, the energy snapped towards the center of the archway.

The vault opened.

Chapter 18 - התחיתי

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התחיתי

With a deafening crack, a wall of energy rushed out from the center of the arch, sweeping across the room and scattering bodies out of its way. Blade didn’t even have time to yell before it crashed into her, lifting her from her feet and sending her tumbling through the air. She slammed into the wall, her wings splayed out beneath her, her breath rushing from her body. She gasped as she dropped to the ground, her head ringing, her lungs struggling for air. Around her she could see the rest of her team doing the same, as well as the various members of the cult. The only one who appeared unaffected was Sagis, who was standing in front of the portal, his back to her. She didn’t need to see his face to know there was nothing but a look of awe on it.

Another shockwave rippled out from the center of the arch, this one a grey glow that reminded her of fog. She moved to rise as the glowing energy swept over her … and then froze as every muscle in her body locked, every feather on her ruff standing on end as something rippled through her.

Fear. The distant, analytical part of her mind knew what it was. But it was fear like she’d never felt before. Fear beyond the time she’d thought she was going to die during training, fear beyond the time she’d thought her wing was crippled, fear beyond the time she first realized what her last employer had been up to. She was shaking now, recoiling back and trying to curl her body up against the wall, completely unable to control herself as her breath came hard and fast. Images, feelings—all of them were flashing through her mind without control, each more terrible than the last.

And all through it, she knew. Whatever was coming out of the gleaming white wall of energy that stretched between the two sides of the arch, she feared it more than anything she’d ever known in her entire life.

The portal was rippling now, the surface distorting like water as something passed through its lower edges. She wanted to look away, but every instinct in her body was screaming that to look away would mean she would die, or worse. She was a griffon, she had to see it head on. No matter how horrifying it was.

A paw broke through the surface of the portal, followed by a shin and then a leg that looked a bit like the leg of a diamond dog, though longer and rippling with lean muscle under its shiny black coat. It was clad in light but ornate golden armor that gleamed under the light of the portal. It touched against the stone and Blade found herself pushing her back up against the wall, unconsciously trying to push herself away from the being coming through.

A hand passed through next, wrapped around a long, grey, metal staff almost as tall as she was long. It moved forward before settling on the ground some distance ahead of the foot with a dull click. Then it tilted, and the portal trembled as if trying to hold back whatever it was containing. The white energy bulged as its occupant pressed against it … and then with a faint slurp that almost sounded like something passing through water, it stepped out.

The figure looked around the room, a satisfied but grim smile on his face, as if he was mildly amused by the tableau spread out before him. Sagis had taken several steps back in shock, his eyes wide with disbelief as he stared up at the being.

I tried to warn you, some part of Blade’s mind said as she stared at the individual. Her conscious mind was almost gibbering now. It wanted nothing more than to be as far away from this individual as possible.

He was tall, whoever he was, taller than even Barnabas, but lean and trim. The black of his obsidian coat almost gleamed under the lights, his musculature so defined that his body could have been carved from the very stone his color resembled. His chest was bare, a simple white cloth wrapped around his waist and held in place by some golden belt. He was wearing greaves on his arms as well as his legs—the golden armor she’d noticed earlier. Only now she could see that there was more on the back of his hands, and even on the tops of his clawed fingers. And his head … he was wearing some sort of swept-back headdress, something that looked like a hat but widened until it almost looked like a mane-cut. It was made of gold too, though whitened.

Jackal, she realized as she took in the long muzzle, the tall, pointed ears that added almost another foot to his already impressive height, and the thin, angular face. But ordinary jackals didn’t look like this. She’d seen pictures of them. They were smaller than diamond dogs, not taller than them. And definitely not slightly taller than a minotaur. Which meant …

Oh no … She knew who this was. She’d seen him mentioned in history texts. Sagis, you fool. She still couldn’t move towards the figure, do anything but try to move away. Only now her conscious mind agreed with the rest of her. No!

The figure turned his head without speaking, taking in the whole of the room as his smile widened. Thrashing, panicking figures froze one after another as the figure’s gaze panned over them. Then his eyes were on her, his smile widening even further, and she felt her body lock, her mind screaming at her to get away. Run! Run run run run run! But she couldn’t. Her entire body was locked in place, frozen with panicked terror.

“Well,” the figure said after a moment. He had a strange accent, his pronunciation falling on the letters wrong, as if it were the first time he’d spoken the language. He flexed his arms outward, arching his back. “I’ve get to say … No …” He cocked his head to one side, his grin widening as he seemed to contemplate his words. “No, got to say.” His chuckle at the mistake felt the same as his grin—completely devoid of care or interest in anyone around him, like he was laughing only for his own benefit, the joke incomprehensible to everyone around him.

“I’ve got to say,” he said again, rolling his shoulders back, spinning his staff in one hand. “It is good to get out of there.”

“You’re …” Sagis’s voice seemed on the edge of breaking. “You’re not King Sombra.”

“You are right,” the jackal said, pointing one finger at Sagis while still spinning his staff with the other. “Finally figured that one out, did you? Sands, you’re smart. Makes me feel like I wasted my time bothering with all the instructions written everywhere!” He spread his hands, turning as he looked at the rest of the room around him. “I mean, you morons couldn’t even be bothered to read the stuff you did excavate. Nope.” He shook his head, crouching in front of Sagis so that he was almost at head level. “You’re just so hung up on your own superiority, you didn’t even stop to think that maybe, just maybe, some stupid unicorn king who died a thousand years ago wouldn’t be buried in a sealed sub-dimension pocket that’s been closed for almost two-thousand years!” He grabbed Sagis’s horn in one hand as he spoke, twisting the unicorn cult leader’s head down to the stone. “I get myself sealed away, enact this whole plan, and this is what I get to wake me up?”

He shook his head again as he let go of the unicorn, rising once more and turning to look back at the portal as it began to flicker. “But then again,” he said, holding up an empty palm towards the portal. “You did let me out, so, I suppose killing you probably shouldn’t be on the table.” The portal rippled once more, a piece of crystal floating out and into his grasp, a piece that Blade recognized as one identical to the fragment she’d been sent to retrieve.

“There you are.” The jackal turned back towards Sagis, smiling as the fragment floated up behind one of his shoulders before coming to a stop slightly behind and above him. The portal snapped out, the faint hum fading as the whitish-grey light vanished. It was simply a stone arch once more.

“And now the other one …” A second fragment drifted into the air from out of Sagis’s robes, the cult leader’s eyes going wide as it took up a position behind the jackal’s other shoulder. “Good.”

“You …” Sagis said, his voice shaky but gaining confidence. “That is King Sombra’s—”

“Careful, Sagis.” The slightly humorous tone that had been in the figure’s voice earlier had vanished completely, replaced by cold, calculating steel. “You might want to think a bit more before finishing that sentence. I’ve been in your mind. On the top fringes of it, anyway.”

“The scanning?” Sagis said, his eyes widening again.

“Of course,” came the response. “How do you think I know your language? My own little precaution, built into my vault for whenever someone stumbled on my little project.” He smiled, and the sight of it sent a shiver down Blade’s spine. It was not a nice smile. “I’ve been watching you—all of you—every moment you’ve been in here. Poking over your minds, keeping an eye on things while you worked.”

“Who …” Sagis shook his head. “I …”

“You don’t know,” the figure’s shoulder drooped in mock disappointment. “All these weeks digging my vault out of the ice and charging up the key I made …” He shook his head. “I’m just going to stop listing my disappointments with you now, Sagis,” he said, his voice firm once more. “I realize you mortals have short memories, but this is embarrassing. So much for the ‘ruler of the ice’ you kept envisioning yourself as, at the side of your king?” He let out a long, cruel laugh, his eyes looking over the rest of the room. “But I think I can help you out.”

“You know—” Sagis began.

“Stop. Talking.” Sagis went silent.

Blade could feel her limbs now, not in the sense that they’d gone numb, but in the way that they were starting to move under her own command once more. The fear was beginning to fade, her mind moving from gibbering panic to reason. She managed to pull her eyes away from the ancient horror atop the vault as something shifted against the stone, and saw Barnabas struggling to push himself up.

“Ah ah,” The jackal rapped his staff against the stone, and another wall of grey mist rushed out in all directions, slamming everyone in the room back. A few screams echoed across the room, but Blade couldn’t find it in herself to join them as once again her body locked up, every fearful moment she’d ever faced running through her mind.

“This group was close to figuring it out,” the jackal said, waving a hand in her direction. “Then again, judging from what I saw in their minds, they wouldn’t have let me out, which is an amusing bit of irony in and of itself, considering who’s leading them.” He chuckled again and then shrugged.

“Anyway,” he said, looking down at Sagis. “You’ve got a choice now. See, I’ve been watching everything that goes on in here, so I know that your fleet is probably going to lose this battle they’re having right now. They might have already. But you have an airship, a personal one, and I need it. So here’s how it’s going to go.” A long, shimmering, blue, translucent scythe blade grew out of the top of his staff, and the jackal tapped one finger against it idly, a faint ring echoing off of the blade. “You can join me, and get what you’ve always wanted … or I can kill you and see if your second in command is more ameable.”

He snapped forward, moving faster than almost anyone Blade had ever seen save Alchemy. “And don’t lie to me,” he said, the edge of the blade held just up against the unicorn’s throat. “I’ve looked inside your mind, Sagis. And I know you’ve never really cared much for this ‘King Sombra’ of yours.” His head tilted to one side, a cold smile moving across his face. “You care about what really matters: Power. That’s why you rose to the top of the cult. That’s why you wanted to bring back this old, crusty king.” The scythe twitched, Sagis flinching as the blade moved against his neck. “You value power. And you’re in luck, Sagis, because so do I. Because in the end, that’s all that matters.”

“It’s different for you, of course,” he said, smirking as he stepped back, sending the scythe spinning through the air with casual ease. “You’re mortal. Power is short lived. When you’re an immortal? A demigod? Power is all there is. All that matters is the game of taking it from others.” He grinned, baring sharp, long, white teeth. “So, Sagis,” he said, looking down at the unicorn. “Do you want power? Or do you want to die like a worm and be left for some archaeologist to find a thousand years from now?”

‘I … I …”

“Think quickly. I need to be moving soon.” The jackal looked up towards the ceiling of the chamber. “And it would be much quicker if I didn’t need to terrify your airship crew into submission first.”

“They’re not—”

“Last warning. I’ve seen your mind, Sagis. I know you had your personal airship held in reserve and crewed in case you needed to beat a hasty retreat. In fact, one of the only reasons I’m giving you this offer right now is because I value that sort of initiative. Others would call it cowardice, but I call it planning, so I know you do have a brain in there, despite your apparent lack of being able to understand who I am.”

His gaze shifted to Blade, and she felt her body freeze, lock up as his cold, purple eyes met hers. “This one knows,” he said, chuckling. “She was suspicious, and she figured it out. Ironic, like I said, considering that her race built me this place in the first place. But she knows.”

He turned back toward Sagis, running his eyes over the red-coated unicorn and then the gibbering, shivering cultists behind him. “I,” he said, his voice echoing around the room, “am Anubis.”

No. She hadn’t wanted to be right. She’d wanted to be wrong so badly. She had been afraid of being right. Afraid of being wrong, too, thanks to the magic that was gripping her.

“One of the greatest of the immortals,” Anubis continued, offering Sagis a mocking bow. “Ruler of the jackal race—not that they were very useful. But they earned their just reward in the end.” He smirked, as if the devastation of an entire species was something he could be amused by. “And, especially given how my useless charges went out of this world … ” He waved his hand at a pile of bones shoved together in the corner of the room. The bones began to rattle as a grey mist seeped across them, and then they rose, snapping together with rattling clicks, spinning around one another as they joined. A moment later they ceased, and a griffon skeleton rose from the ground, standing at attention with its shoulder straight, misshapen wings outstretched. It was missing a few pieces, but that somehow made it all the more ominous.

“Ruler of the dead,” Anubis finished, waving his hand across the room. More clicks filled the room, three skeletons pulling themselves together and standing at attention.

The fear was fading. Blade could feel it sliding away, becoming less and less oppressive. The flashes of horror were vanishing. It’s only magic! her mind was shouting. Just magic! Resist it!

The four skeletons began to march across the room, the click of their bones hitting the stone adding a macabre percussion to their movements. They formed up behind the jackal, forming an honor guard position.

“So?” Anubis asked, looking down at Sagis. “Do you want power?”

Sagis’s expression had shifted. There was still fear in his eyes, but there was something else, too. Hunger. “Yes,” he said, his voice soft at first, but then louder. “Yes … Lord Anubis.”

“Excellent,” Anubis said, rapping his staff once more against the ground. Blade didn’t even have time to mentally scream before the grey mist splashed over her once more, and she threw her head back, striking it against the stone. Stars erupted across her vision.

Still, the pain distracted from the fear. Maybe it was her body getting used to the assault, or the throbbing in her head … or maybe animating the skeletons had drained the immortal and he was trying to hide it, but the fear wave felt weaker.

“I’ve excluded your minions from my influence,” Anubis said, striding up to the edge of the platform as several of the cultists began to rise. “They’ll be ready to serve you again, and by extension, me, as soon as they can stand.”

“You imposter,” one of the rising mages said. “King Sombra will—”

The scythe flashed, the blade a blue, blurring line as Anubis whipped it through the air and down below the unicorn before snapping it up. The cultist’s body slumped back, the head falling free. Blood pooled on the stone.

“Anyone else?” Anubis asked, his staff still extended. A few of the cultists shook their heads, and the immortal grinned.

“Excellent,” he said, twirling the staff, the blade flickering out of existence. Blade forced her leg to move, feeling coming back into her limbs. There was a shuffling sound on the stone beside her and—

“Don’t,” Anubis said, pointing his staff at Barnabas as the minotaur began to rise. An orb of grey mist spat out of the end, slamming the minotaur in the chest and throwing him back against the stone. He slumped, though Blade could see him shaking.

“I don’t have any particular fight with you five at the moment,’ Anubis said. “Your enemy is defeated … although …” He glanced at the fragment floating behind his shoulder. “I don’t know who hired you,” he said, his eyes locking with hers. “But you should know it’s not worth it. Go home, little griffon. You can’t fight a demigod.”

Anubis turned and strode across the room, his staff ringing against the stone. He came to a stop above the key. “And since I might need this …” He bent down and wrapped one hand around the key’s handle, tugging it free and lifting it into the air. “Hold this,” he said, tossing it towards Sagis. The unicorn caught it with his magic.

Barnabas shifted again. It’s his resistance, Blade thought as the minotaur pushed himself up on one hoof. He’s adapting. She could see his veins standing out.

It wasn’t just him either. Despite her quivering terror, she could move her foreleg now. Just another few moments and …

“Come,” Anubis said, stepping towards the door. “We need to be moving before that fleet breaks through your shield and wrecks everything.” The rest of the cult formed up behind him, Sagis along walking by the immortal’s side. “We’ll pick up any survivors along—”

With a yell, Barnabas lunged forward, his axe coming up as he barreled straight for Sagis, bashing one of the skeletons aside with his shoulder. “For my—”

Anubis moved, a blade snapping to life on each end of his staff as it twirled through the air. Barnabas stumbled as the spinning weapon cut red tracks across his thighs and then his arms, dropping his axe with a strangled gurgle as Anubis’s other hand caught him by the throat.

“I warned you,” Anubis said, shoving the weakened minotaur back and glaring at him as the scythe darted once more, dancing through the air. Blade tried to get up, but her body still wasn’t obeying her commands fully, and she just pushed herself up and then fell to her chest once more.

“But no,” Anubis said, his scythe cutting through Barnabas’s tendons and sending him falling to his hands and knees. “You wouldn’t.” One of Barnabas’s hands slid out, wrapping around the hilt of his greataxe.

“And now you’re going to pay,” Anubis said as Barnabas reared back, lifting the axe up in the air with one hand, a wordless yell echoing through the chamber. The scythe flashed, Barnabas’s yell ending in a strangled croak as the blade cut across his upraised arm, and then, smirking, Anubis spun the weapon around his arm and stepped forward, burying the blade in the minotaur’s chest.

“Nooooo!” Frost’s scream echoed through the chamber, an almost primal cry of pain as Barnabas’s body jerked back, half of the translucent-blue blade poking from his back. The greataxe clattered to the floor as the minotaur’s arms went limp.

“You should have listened,” Anubis said, pulling his scythe free and looking down at Barnabas, the same, faint smirk still on his face. “But you didn’t, and now you’re dead.” He lifted his foot and planted it on the minotaur’s chest, giving him an almost casual shove backwards. Barnabas’s limp body tumbled to the ground.

Rage filled Blade as the immortal turned and motioned for the cultists to move through the doorway, and she pushed against the force that was keeping her body stunned, summoning all her anger into one single drive.

Stop him!

“Sorry,” Anubis said, shrugging as the twin blades of his scythe vanished. “And since I can guess where your minds are all going even without being able to scan them …” He turned and looked towards the four skeletons.

“Kill them all!” he said as he turned and strode out of room. Bones clacked against one another as the four constructs turned towards them and began to stride forward.

Come on! Blade thought, pushing herself up. Her body was still shaking, but it was hers! Come on Blade, you can do this! In a fit of desperations she whipped one of her claws up and pulled it across her chest.

The pain helped, and with a scream, the fear that had gripped her body breaking like a glass cage, she leapt forward as one of the skeletons placed its talons across Barnabas’s throat.

She hit it like a missile, her scream echoing across the room as she bowled it over. Rather than pulling apart, the bones held, and she jerked back as it lashed out at her with talons of its own, dirty and yellowed after a thousand-plus years in the ice. There was a cloying scent about it, like something slimy and damp.

You might have talons, she thought as she slammed her claws into its skull, the brittle, aged bone cracking under the impact. But I have—whoa!

The skeleton jerked its head, tugging her off balance before slamming a fist into her side hard enough to knock her back. She jerked her claws free, wings beating as the other three skeletons bore down on her.

They’re not alive, she thought as she watched the four of them approach. They’re like golems. They won’t react like a regular opponent. Her observation proved itself as an arrow clipped the side of the one of the skeletons, ricocheting away. The skeleton didn’t even flinch as it turned toward Frost, who was already firing again, her eyes brimming with fury.

And they’re also really strong, Blade thought as she wrapped her talons around one limb. The skeleton jerked, tugging her foreleg to one side as she stepped back once more. But they’re old and brittle, and they can’t weigh much...

She darted behind the skeleton, taking to the air and wrapping her talons around the construct’s wings. It reacted almost without hesitation, twisting even as she snapped her wings around, whipping the skeleton around her body in the air. A single claw scraped against her bracers as she let go, and then with a crash the thing slammed into the stone wall, breaking apart and separating as it fell to the ground below. She eyed it, hanging in the air as the pieces came to a stop, and then when they didn’t reform, turned to to help Frost, who was backing away from three of the skeletons, still firing uselessly.

“Freeze them!” Hain called, the older griffon still pushing himself up. If Frost heard him, there was no sign. Her face was almost hollow, like she’d lost part of her soul.

There was a sharp crack as Alchemy hit one of the skeletons, his hoof shattering the weakened skull. He let out a shout of surprise as, a moment later, the skeleton turned on him, slashing its stubby talons across his chest.

“They’re dead!” Blade shouted, descending on another skeleton as the last of the magical fear faded from her body. Now there was a real fear replacing it, that Barnabas was going to die, and his killer would get away. “You have to break them!”

She grabbed another one as she spoke, flipping it through the air and bringing it down hard against the stone. It broke apart, the impact too much for it. Alchemy let out a shout and began pounding his opponent, breaking bone after bone. It crumbled. As they both descended on the last griffon, Frost ran by, dropping her bow as she galloped towards Barnabas.

The last skeleton fell quickly, its bones breaking as both she and Alchemy descended on it. It fought to the end, only breaking apart to rattle across the floor when she and Alchemy had destroyed more than a quarter of its major components. The sound of its pieces rolling across the stone filled the air.

Then there was only silence, broken by a faint sob. “No …”

Alchemy was reaching into his vest as he slid to a stop next to Barnabas, but his hoof slowed as he looked down at the minotaur. Frost was standing over the minotaur’s motionless body, tears painting wet tracks down her cheeks. “No …” she said again, her voice cracking. “No.”

Barnabas’s eyes had glazed over. He was dead.

“Do something.” Frost said, turning to look at the orange earth pony, her breath coming in quick, shaky gasps. “Do something!”

“I … I can’t,” Alchemy said, his face falling. “He’s gone. There’s no potion that can fix that.”

“Do … Something!” Frost said through clenched teeth. “Please!”

“I …” Alchemy shook his head as he looked around at the rest of the group. “Potions don’t … I’m sorry—I … his heart is …”

“Frost,” Blade said, shaking her head as she carefully took her by the shoulder. “He’s gone.”

“No …” Frost said, the feeble sound in her voice heartbreaking as the mare turned once more towards her older brother. “No.” She slugged Barnabas’s shoulder with one hoof. “No!” Her yell filled the room. “Not him too!”

“I’m sorry,” Alchemy said, his ears flat against his head. “There’s nothing we can do.”

Frost’s breaths became more fast and rapid. “No,” she said, gritting her teeth as she looked up. Tears spilled from angry eyes as her horn glowed, a purple glimmer snapping her bow into the air. “No, there’s one thing I can do. I can kill the thrice-cursed bilgesucker son of Tartarus who did this.” Her words came out with an angry hiss, rage contorting her face, and then she bolted, galloping for the exit.

“Frost!” Blade jumped into the air, her wings pumping as she looked down at Alchemy and Hain. The first looked dazed, his eyes wet. Hain just looked like a stone.

“Take care of him,” she said, pointing down at Barnabas’s still form and noticing something. His hand was halfway out of a pouch on his armor, a folded piece of paper clutched in it. She darted down and pulled it the rest of the way out. For Frost, the front read. She grabbed it. “I’m going after Frost.”

She darted down the tunnel, heading for exit and following the distant cadence of hoofsteps. If she was lucky and she caught the mare before she caught up to Anubis, she might be able to get some reason into her. If she didn’t … the immortal would kill her.

Faster! She pumped her wings hard as she darted across the room with the statues. Frost was moving quickly; Blade could hear her hooves ringing against the stone further up. She darted into the stairway chamber just in time to see the ice-blue mare vanish over the top. “Frost!”

She reached the top of the stairs to see Frost standing on the edge of the dig, her bow pointed into the air. She fired as Blade flew out of the vault, her arrow streaking up into the sky.

“Frost!” Blade called again as she landed next to the mare. “What are you—” Another arrow shot skyward, and Blade tracked it, watching as it fell short of a distant airship. As she watched the airship rose further through the sky, its guns firing as two griffon corvettes moved to intercept it. A wave of grey mist spilled out into the sky, sweeping over the two griffon vessels, and both of them made hasty banks, pulling away from the airship as it gained speed.

Frost let out a furious scream, jerking her bow back so hard it snapped. Then, as explosions from the griffon bombardment echoed around them, she sank to the ground, sobbing.

“I’m sorry, Frost,” Blade said, crouching near the sobbing mare as griffon’s began to drop out of the sky around them. “I’m sorry.” Minutes passed as she stood there, one talon on the mare’s shoulders, the distant sounds of combat fading as the fleet took the Island.

“Blade?” It was Kalos, his face smudged, the short sword in his talons wet with blood. “What happened.”

“Kalos,” she said, rising as a flame flickered in her chest. “That airship, the one that broke through a few minutes ago, the fleet needs to chase it down. They need to run it down fast, and blast it into the ice—”

“We can’t do that, Blade,” he said shaking his head.

“Don’t give me that!” she said, shaking her head. “Tell the fleet! They need to run it down. That ship can’t be allowed to land—”

“Blade.”

“There’s an immortal on that ship! A dangerous one!” She was ranting now. She didn’t care. “He’ll kill everyone he comes across—”

“Blade!”

“You need to tell the fleet to—!”

“Blade!”

She froze, her rant stopped by the volume of his tone. Had she been shouting? She hadn’t even realized she was.

“We can’t,” Kalos said, shaking his head. “That was Sagis’s personal airship. It’s built for speed, and faster than anything we’ve got but the Seeker. We can’t catch it.”

“Then we’ll take the Seeker,” she said, shaking her head. “We’ll blow it out of the sky and—”

“The Seeker’s damaged,” Kalos said. “Her magazines are dry. She’s got no weapons, and half her boilers are shot. We can’t, Blade. I’m sorry. We just can’t.”

“You … I …” Blade turned away, clenching her talons into fists and letting out a wordless shriek as the distant dot that was Anubis’s airship continued to fade. Alchemy and Hain climbed out of the dig, both moving with a stunned, overwhelmed slowness as they too stared off into the sky alongside her, watching as the vessel become nothing more than a blip on the horizon before sinking below it. Blade sank to her elbows, shutting her eyes tightly and wishing she could block out the sound of Frost’s sobs. Around her the sounds of violence began to fade, a ragged cheer rising from the griffon air fleet as victory was declared, but she couldn’t find any joy in it, not with Frost crying beside her. She wanted to scream again, shout her anger and her failure out into the night sky.

But there was nothing she could do. Anubis was gone, the fleet in tatters, and Barnabas was dead.

There was nothing she could do.

END OF PART ONE

Chapter 19 - Follow

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The Vault of Bones

“I’m sorry, Blade,” Kalos said, shaking his head hard enough that his short feathers swept back and forth. “We can’t.”

“Kalos,” Blade said, her ruff rising. “This isn’t some random cultist that got—”

“I know!” Kalos’s temper, long since frayed, snapped, and he brought his fist down on his desk, the wood rattling with a thump. “But Blade, we cannot afford to follow this Anubis character right now! What would you have me do? Send the Seeker after them? It’s the only ship in the fleet that can keep up with that airship they got away in, and the Seeker needs a refit. Tartarus, Blade, most of the fleet needs a refit. Do you know how many lives we lost taking this island rock?”

“I—”

“Almost a hundred,” Kalos said, shaking his head. “Six corvettes and a frigate. And that’s just lost. We’ve got another three airships that might not even make it back to Teardrop.”

“Kalos—” Her cousin ignored her.

“Then we’ve got Titus’s fleet, which took almost as bad a beating as we did,” he continued. “Four ships were destroyed with all crew lost, and she’s had to scuttle another five thanks to Captain Pyre’s zealous use of flame trebuchets.”

“Kalos, I’m well aware—”

“No, Blade, I don’t think you are,” he said, glaring at her. Blade fought back the urge to jump across the desk and slam his head into it repeatedly. “You lost one member of your team—”

“To an immortal.”

“—we,” Kalos said, ignoring her statement, “lost almost two-hundred and fifty across the alliance. The fleet is in severe need of a refit. We’re low on fuel, supplies—even ammo. The Seeker is completely empty. Some of the airships may need to be towed home or be left at the mercy of the winds. Are you following what I’m saying?”

Blade fought back the urge to spit out something caustic. “I do, Kalos,” she said, swallowing her pride. “But someone has to go after them. The leader of the cult slipped through your claws, and you can’t let that stand.”

“Stand?” Kalos shook his head, whipping his eyes across the ready room before settling once more on her. “Blade, the fleet is in no condition to limp, let alone stand or fly. Right now, I agree with the Patriarch. The fleet needs to be refit if we’re to maintain our control over the Ocean. The Bloodhooves have been pushed all the way back into their fortress and have lost almost all of their forces. The cult is shattered, survival of their leadership aside. Our priority, now that we are the dominant force on the Ocean, is to stay that way. Which means refitting the combined fleet so that it can track down the last problem areas and keep everyone on the Ocean safe while Titus goes about getting everyone unified. We can’t do that and send our forces chasing after one airship, especially when that one airship beat back several of our own during the escape.”

“Then let us go after them,” Blade said, narrowing her eyes as she stepped closer to the desk, her wings flaring out behind her. “We can catch them before they get too far.”

“You can leave any time you want,” Kalos said, shaking his head.

“We’d need a ship.”

“You have a ship, if I’m not mistaken. The Arrow.”

“That’s back at Cragtooth Heights,” Blade said.

“Then you’ll have to ask for passage from Captain Titus and her crew,” Kalos said, rising from, his seat as he spoke. “Look, Blade. I don’t know what you expect me to do. We’re out here because of something that was partially your idea in the first place. We helped you get this far. You helped us. Fine. A deal’s a deal. But we’re not beholden to your mission.”

“He’s an immortal, Kalos!” Blade shouted, her temper breaking. “You didn’t see how effortlessly he slaughtered Barnabas!”

“No!” Kalos slammed both forelimbs down on his desk, using its height to rise over her. “And I also don’t see how charging after him with a fleet that’s barely holding together and almost completely without armament would do any better than your team did! The patriarch has spoken. We’re to finish dealing with our prisoners here and then make for Teardrop for resupply and refit. If, at that point, the individual you’ve identified as Anubis is confirmed to be within the boundaries of the Ocean of Endless Ice, along with any of the remaining cult members, we will deal with them.”

“But—”

“That’s the end of it, Blade,” Kalos said, sinking into his seat. “You’re welcome to return with us to Teardrop or convince one of Titus’s ships to take you where you need to go, but as for the Teardrop Eyrie, our course is set.” For a moment the ready room was silent, both of them looking at one another. To his credit, Kalos looked apologetic.

She still wanted to rip his feathers out.

“Look, Blade,” he said when it was clear that she wasn’t moving. “I’m sorry, all right? But you need to understand our position. Strategically, there’s nothing to be gained from us charging after one ship. Either we refit and go after him when we’re ready, or we refit and find he’s still causing trouble on the Ocean.”

“And if he’s left the Ocean?” She was barely able to keep the growl out of her voice.

“Then he’s no longer our problem,” Kalos said, shaking his head. “Now, if I’ve made the situation clear enough to you, I’ve got a lot to do today dealing with the prisoner questionings.” He squared his shoulders, his eyes locking with hers. “Have I answered your questions?”

“You have,” she said, not even bothering to control the lashing of her tale behind her. “I’ll let you get on with your duties then, Captain Arcrider.” She turned towards the door.

“Blade,” Kalos said, his voice dropping slightly. “I’m sorry. I really am. I’d like to hunt this guy down too. But you have to understand that we’re in no condition to go after him.”

“I understand,” she said, not looking back. “My team will just have to see what we can do.”

“Right, well, don’t get too distracted. The fleet’s leaving tomorrow morning at dawn. so if you work something out, let us know before then.”

She nodded, closing the door behind herself as she walked out. Oh, don’t worry, Kalos. You’ll know.

The bridge crew gave her a few curious looks as she walked out, but none of them said anything. Still, she could feel them watching her as she made her way down towards the main deck. The conversation between her and Kalos had definitely been loud enough that they’d heard portions of it.

Blasted Icewing clan, she thought as she made her way through the Seeker’s halls. Backing out when they’re the closest to actually being able to do something about this. She could feel her talons leaving little notches in the wood as she walked, her frustration making itself heard.

Worse yet, he’s right, she thought. They took a real beating. But the least they could do is give us a ship. I don’t care if he doesn’t have an army. With that “fear” ability, I’m not sure he needs one.

She stepped out onto the main deck, instinctively tugging her wings about her as she left the warmer confines of the Seeker. Icy wind washed over her, its faint howl mixing with the shrill, endless groan of the ice, and she shivered. Should have worn a coat. Still, it was too late now. She wasn’t going back inside for a while. The cold would help her cool off. Besides, she needed to go talk to the rest of the team.

She picked her way across the deck, stepping around the various engineers that were hard at work getting the Seeker, if not back into shape, then at least fit to travel. Entire sections of the main deck had been cordoned off, surrounded by yellow or red chalk that denoted their need and priority for repairs. Several engineers were hard at work attempting to wrestle a ballista back onto its swivel mount, while another deckwing nearby was busily going up and down the gunwale, pressing his talons into burnt sections and testing them for weaknesses.

They’ll be at this for a while, she thought as she made her way towards the gangplank. Even if they’re just trying to take care of the most obvious problems. She’d had a good look at the damage earlier when she’d walked around the back end of the Seeker, and the ship was in bad need of a refit. Several of the rear propellers were gone, two more cracked, and there were armor panels that were heavily scarred to the point where she doubted it would be worth patching them. They’d need to be replaced. And for that, they’ll need an airship dock. The closest of which was Teardrop. Deadwinds take Kalos for being right.

The gangplank shook, rattling against the deck as she neared it, and she slowed, waiting for whoever was working their way up it to reach the deck. Her eyes widened in surprise when a single hoof, followed by a cast-wrapped leg, appeared over the top of the gangplank, chased moments later by a familiar-looking red minotaur sitting in a wheelchair and being pushed by a lone griffon guard. The minotaur’s eyes widened as he caught site of Blade, and despite her mood, she couldn’t help but grin.

“Well …” she said, enjoying the growing look of panic on the new arrival’s face. He was missing one of his horns now, she noticed. A bandage had been wrapped around the stump, and he was sporting a number of new bruises that stood out against his red coat—at least, where he still had it. From the look of things, he’d had a close brush with a fire. “Fancy meeting you here, Ennuis.”

“You …” His voice was shaking with either rage or fear, she couldn’t really tell which. “You’re the cause of all of this! You!” The griffon that had been pushing Ennuis’s seat stepped back, her bored look switching to mild curiosity at her charge’s apparent energy.

“You’ll have to summarize for me, Ennuis,” Blade said, grinning as the minotaur glared daggers at her. “What all of this are you referring to?”

“All of it!” the minotaur shouted, bouncing in his seat. A few of the nearby engineers looked up for a moment only to turn back to their work as Ennuis continued ranting. “Everything was fine until you showed up. Because of you, I got my arm broken!” He tapped the cast with one finger. “Because of you, I got my finger broken.”

“Uh-huh.” That one actually had been her, but she wasn’t about to say anything.

“You were the one who wrecked my ship!” he said, jabbing his finger in her direction. “You were the one who led this attack.” Not entirely true, but she’d take it. “And because of that, I lost one of my horns! And got my leg broken!” She grinned as his fist came down on his broken leg with a meaty thunk, eliciting a slight whimper of pain, though his expression didn’t change.

“Well,” she said, shrugging as she stepped towards the gangplank, taking care to pass on the side with his broken arm in case he got any ideas. “I guess that’s what you get for picking the losing side.” She turned towards the griffon who had pushed him up the gangplank. “This the prisoner that Kalos is supposed to be meeting with?” she asked.

“Yes,” the griffon replied. “He’s one of the more senior remaining captains that we captured. Captain Arcrider wanted to meet with him first since he seemed to be the most vocal.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt that,” Blade said, noting the angry glare Ennuis was giving her. “Ennuis has quite the mouth on him, though it’s mostly talk from what I’ve—”

“Talk!?” The chair shook, rocking back and forth as Ennuis tried to rotate it to face her. “I’ll show you talk, griffon. As soon as I’m out of this chair, you’re mine! You ruined everything, and I will make you pay! You understand me? I will make you pay!” He’d re-attracted the attention of several of the nearby engineers now, all of whom were looking on with slightly curious gazes.

“You’re dead meat, griffon,” Ennuis was saying, his eyes glaring daggers at her. “Just as soon as I get out of here. I’m going to make you regret … everything … Hey! What are you … What are you doing!? You can’t—!”

She gave the front of the wheelchair a quick shove, ignoring the sudden shout from the griffon escort as Ennuis began to roll backward. The minotaur’s eyes opened wide, a look of horror coming over his face as the rear wheels tipped over the edge of the gangplank, and then he was gone, a faint scream echoing through the air as his chair rolled backward down the ramp. A moment later there was a terrific crash, the sound of splintering wood filling the air alongside a howl of pain. Then, for a moment, all was silent.

“My arm!” Ennuis screamed, his echoing voice so shrill it almost could have passed for a howl of the wind. “You broke my other arm! Why, you witch!? Why?”

“Pity,” Blade said, spreading her wings and taking to the air as the stunned escort looked on in shock. “I was hoping it’d break his jaw instead.” She flew off before the guard could say anything, ignoring the cold bit of the wind as it snuck between her feathers and cut through her coat, and instead focusing on climbing in altitude until she had a better view of the camp.

The island almost looked as if giant mushrooms had taken over. Airship envelopes were everywhere, in some areas clustered so tightly together that she wouldn’t have been surprised to learn that the repair crews were using torches or magilights to light their way beneath them. Almost every ship in the griffon air fleet had landed after the remaining cultist forces had surrendered, and they’d wasted no time in getting to work on their battered vessels. Of the few that hadn’t been horribly damaged, only the destroyers were still airborne. The rest had landed, their crews helping redistribute supplies and equipment.

The pirate fleet hadn’t suffered much better in their fight with the remaining Bloodhoof forces. According to what she’d heard, the Bloodhooves had beat a hasty retreat after their leader, Pyre, had fallen, but the Cragtooth’s own ships had still taken a heavy beating in the battle, some of them quite close to being sucked down on the ice and torn apart. The island wasn’t home to a dry dock or even a pier, and so the pirate ships had circled, banding together in small, makeshift bunches that could serve as temporary, floating harbors until they could get to more permanent locations and enact repairs. The only reason they were still sticking around at all was because of Titus’s ironclad determination to not let the alliance fall apart at the first sign of trouble being over. Not that it was over.

Blade caught a whiff of smoke as she flew towards the dig site, the smell making her beak itch. The scent had probably come from the smoldering remains of one of the cultist bunkers rather than the distant, burned out pirate wrecks still getting sucked below the ice. The Order had held out to the bitter end, even when their leader had abandoned them, but their magic hadn’t been enough to hold back the combined might of the Teardrop and Cragtooth fleets. The last bunker to go had been pounded into an almost indistinguishable pile of stone, wood, and rubble by the combined fire of both forces, but the unicorns in it had fought back to the very last.

Really determined, Blade thought, the scent fading as she moved towards the center of the camp, where a large open space in the surrounding envelopes marked the location of the dig. Foolishly so. Then again, maybe they’d known what was going to happen if they let themselves be captured. She’d already heard rumblings of what was being planned for most of the cultists that had surrendered. They were being kept under heavy guard and observation until there could be a trial of sorts, but everyone knew that the only outcome for a good majority of the order would be their execution at the mercy of the ice. Most likely with an amputation of the horn just to make sure they wouldn’t magic their way out of it. In fact, most of the comments she’d heard had been to the effect of removing the horns of the majority of the Order, whether they still swore fealty to the cult or not. A faint shiver rolled down her spine. She couldn’t imagine what that would be like. The closest she could come was thinking about how it would feel if someone cut off her wings.

Then again, it wasn’t like the cult hadn’t earned it. Or been unwilling to do similar to others.

She stiffened her wings, locking herself into a slow, spiraling descent as she moved into the air above the dig site. Down below, at the head of the steps, she could see a familiar ice-blue coat and white mane. Frost, hard at work on her memorial for her brother, her horn glowing a vivid purple.

Blade wasn’t sure what to do about the unicorn mare. After her initial outburst, she’d been quieter than ever—not that Blade was sure what she would have said in the first place if the mare had spoken. But since her brother’s death, she’d kept mostly to herself, responding mostly with nods or a quick shake of the head. The most she’d been able to get out of her had been a quick question the following morning, while she’d been watching a team remove her brother’s body from the vault. She’d looked right at Blade, her eyes red, and asked: “We’re going after them, right?”

Aside from that, and her brief insistence that she was “dealing with it,” the mare hadn’t spoken much at all. Her actions, however, well … Blade tucked her wings close as she landed, wincing as her feet touched the frozen ground. Frost’s actions had been something else.

The mare stood at the top of the dig stairs, her horn glowing a brilliant purple, her eyes tightly shut as she worked her magic. The reason for the rose made of ice on her flank was clear now that Blade was seeing the full extent of what she could do. Arrows and armor were simple, harsh tools made crudely and with dangerous purpose. But this? She took a few short steps towards Frost’s work. This was art.

A towering statue of Frost’s brother stood at the head of the stairs, the hard ice it was formed from so blue it could have been the same shade as the minotaur himself. He was standing in a relaxed pose, his axe held at his side in one hand, the other raised above his head in a sign of victory. The sculpture was so detailed she could see the individual teeth in his grin, the slight shift in color that marked the irises of his eyes.

And still Frost was hard at work, the purple glow that was her magic moving back and forth across the surface, fine-tuning every detail, polishing the ice until it was almost glowing. If not for the size and the massive, square plinth it was set on, Blade almost would have expected it to start moving on its own, to turn and let a loud, familiar, friendly laugh boom across the island.

But it was just ice. A memory of someone who had been, who was no longer. The real Barnabas was dead, his body in a makeshift coffin aboard Titus’s ship awaiting transport back to Cragtooth heights, where the captain had promised to give him a funeral the entire Ocean would remember. There was something to the way she’d said it that made Blade wonder if the captain had hoped to be more than just friends with the amiable minotaur.

None of my business, she thought, chasing away the errant thought as she walked up to Frost. She cleared her throat, not wanting to startle the mare, especially when she was using so much magic. “Looking good, Frost,” she said. “Seriously, you could be an artist.”

Frost didn’t say anything, though the magic field did pause for a moment.

“It’s an excellent memorial,” Blade said, her tail lashing behind her as she searched her mind for something to say. “Actually, I’m kind of curious as to what there is left to do to it.”

“Making sure it sticks,” Frost said, her voice sounding slightly strained, as if she was putting forth more effort than she appeared to be. “The harder the ice, the harder it’ll be for anything to damage it. That’s why it’s blue.”

“Ah.” So it wasn’t just an aesthetic choice. Or maybe it was a bonus. “How hard is it right now?”

“Harder than anything I’ve ever made,” Frost said, her voice quiet. “Hard enough it’ll be decades before it even thinks of cracking.”

“What about the air?” Blade asked. “Not that I’m trying to discourage you or anything, but won’t it melt?”

“It never gets warm enough here to melt,” Frost said, her voice flat. Her eyes opened as she turned towards Blade. They were red, and Blade could see wet, frozen tracks that had carved their way down her face. “Did you get us a ship?”

“I’m gathering everyone to meet to discuss the next step of our plan,” Blade said, ducking around the question. “Do you know where Hain and Alchemy are?”

“Hain’s back in our quarters,” Frost said, turning back towards the statue. Her magic moved down, towards the plinth. “Alchemy is probably there too, working on another batch of potions.”

“Right.” Blade nodded, watching as Frost began to carve words into the statue’s base. “Well, as soon as you’re finished up here, come and join us. We’ll be back on the Seeker.” And if I’d known that Hain and Alchemy were both there … well, I’d have still needed to come over her anyway. Plus, I needed to blow off a little steam. She glanced down at the entrance to the vault, a shiver running through her spine. And maybe a reminder of what we’re after.

She took a few steps back and launched herself into the air again, her wings pumping against the cool air as she lifted off. She circled around once, then twice before heading back towards the Seeker.

Ennuis was gone by the time she got back, probably picked up by his escort and taken in to see Kalos. She stuck to the lower levels of the ship, avoiding the bridge area since she didn’t want to run into anyone who’d overheard her outburst with her cousin. She passed a few griffons moving from one area of the ship to the other as she made her way to the galley, but none of them gave her more than a second glance. They were all too busy dealing with whatever jobs they had.

She found Hain in the galley, digging into a late breakfast of cured meat that smelled like it’d been salted a little too heavily for her tastes. He was the only griffon there. Even the nearby kitchen looked abandoned.

“Hain,” she said, slipping into a spot across the table from him.

“Blade,” he said between bites. “How’s the team?”

“Rough,” she said, shaking her head. “I think.”

“You talked to them?” he asked, before tearing a chunk of meat—probably lamb—away from his meal with his beak. A single string dangled down from the corner of his mouth, and she tore her eyes away from it as her stomach growled. “You hungry?”

She shook her head. “Later. And no, I haven’t really talked to them about it. Should I have?”

Hain shrugged. “That depends on if you’re planning to talk to them about it or not. If you aren’t, well then yeah, you should. As a group, I mean. If you’re planning on doing it today, well then you’re fine. Just don’t say the wrong thing.”

“Which is?”

Hain let out a sigh and dropped his meal, licking his talons clean before resting them on the table. “Blade, the ugly truth of leading a team like this one is that there’s always a risk that some of them are going to die. It happens. It’s usually tragic, and sad, but that’s the business we’re in at the end of the day. How many teams did we break-up on our way here? A lot,” he said, holding up a talon as she opened her beak. “And I won’t disagree that they deserved it. I’ve seen a lot of things in my time, but finding out that the rumor I heard about those experiments was true with that behemoth, well … I don’t think anyone would disagree that we’re doing the right thing.”

“The point is Blade,” he continued. “We’re in a dangerous business. Any one of us could die doing this. The question we have to ask ourselves is whether or not what we’re accomplishing is worth that risk. We need to ask if it’s worth our lives to do what we’re trying to do. Now, whether it’s about money … or whether it’s about something else, we need to ask ourselves what that’s worth.”

“So, what’s that make the wrong thing?” Blade asked.

Hain shook his head. “That depends on the job, Blade. And as the lead, that’s for you to decide, and tell everyone else about. Me? I’m just here when you need a plan of action. Speaking of which,” he said, picking up his breakfast once more. “I heard there was some shouting between you and your cousin. Anything I need to hear about?”

“You’ll hear it when the rest of the group does,” she said, standing. “Which will be in my quarters, in about five or ten minutes.”

Hain nodded. “Good,” he said, pausing to take a bite. “Glad to hear you’re not giving up. But about what I said …”

She paused, looking down at him. “Yeah?”

“Say the right thing,” Hain said, before turning his attention back towards his breakfast.

Right, Blade thought as she walked out of the galley. Whatever that is. What do I tell a team when I’m the one who led them right into the situation that got one of them killed? What sort of encouragement am I supposed to give them? She turned towards the crew quarters, stepping around a yellow-outlined hole in the deck that hadn’t been covered over yet. What was it Hain had been saying, about making sure that what you were doing was worth the risk? That would mean going full-disclosure, telling them everything. Then again, after what had happened to Barnabas, maybe they deserved to know.

The door to Alchemy’s quarters was shut, and she knocked, waiting until the earth pony said “Come in” to slide it to one side.

“Hey, Alchemy,” she said as she stepped inside. His quarters looked just like every other berth on the ship—the same lined bunks, the same dispersal of drawers. The only difference, which wasn’t a surprising one given that most of them had very little in the way of personal equipment with them, was that on the bunk opposite the one he was using was his potion kit, spread out across the thin mattress, burners boiling away at various fluids. “Replenishing your potion stock?”

“Trying to,” he said, not looking up in her direction but keeping his eyes on the kit. “Not having much luck though. I’m starting to run low on ingredients, so I’m really having to make some stuff stretch.” He paused, reaching out with one hoof to adjust a flame under a beaker. “And I’ll have you know we’ve used almost fifteen-hundred bits worth of materials so far.”

“You’ll be compensated,” she said, the words slipping out of her beak before she’d even considered them. Thankfully, the earth pony didn’t seem to react. “We’re going to be meeting in my quarters in a few minutes to discuss where we’re going from here.”

“All right,” Alchemy said, still not looking in her direction. “As soon as I’m done here I’ll head on over.”

“How are you holding up?” she asked.

Alchemy paused, his hoof freezing in mid-air. “What?”

“You heard me,” she said, taking a step forward. “You’ve got that super-potion stuff running through your veins. How are you doing?”

Alchemy let out a sigh. “If I start talking about our future potion shortage, you’re not going to take that as an answer, are you?” The question was so straightforward it almost a statement.

“No,” Blade said, shaking her head. “Though I do appreciate the information on the potion shortage and pricing. I’ll see if we can do something about that. It doesn’t include your personal potion, does it?”

“No,” Alchemy said, shaking his head. He still hadn’t turned to look at her. “I always make sure I’ve got enough a reserve of that to last me a few months. I’ve still got quite a bit left.”

“Good,” Blade said. “The last thing I want is for you to have that running as a shortage.”

“I wouldn’t let it get there,” Alchemy said. “Trust me.”

“All right,” Blade said, leaning against the doorframe. “I will. Now, in relation to that, how are you doing?” When Alchemy didn’t say anything, she pressed on. “You’ve been pretty quiet after, well, everything that happened.”

“You mean Barnabas dying.”

“Not just that,” she said, shaking her head. “An ancient immortal. That behemoth.” She saw him twitch as she mentioned the twisted, maddened earth pony. “We saw a lot of stuff go down inside that vault. And felt a lot too,” she said, her mind skimming back over the way Anubis had shut them all down. We’re going to need something to counter that, she thought. “But of everyone in the group, you’ve been the most quiet.”

She saw his ears twitch at that declaration, and she caught herself. “Not quieter than Frost, I mean. But for her, quiet is normal. You on the other claw …” She let out a sigh. “I just wanted to ask how you’re dealing with it.”

“Which part?” Alchemy asked. “The part where Barnabas died and I couldn’t save him? The part where we faced down and killed an abomination that used to be a sapient being just like the rest of us? Or the part where we met an ancient immortal?”

“So you’re not doing too great.”

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “I don’t really know.”

“You’re still here. Making potions,” she pointed out.

“Refuge in my special talent isn’t exactly the best way to deal with it,” he said, turning to look at her. She almost recoiled. His mane was unkempt, jagged and obviously slept-on, but his eyes reminded her almost of Frost’s they were so haggard. Large bags hung under his eyes, as if he hadn’t slept, despite the appearance of his mane.

“I ... I didn’t know you could get bags under your eyes,” she said, choosing her words carefully. Alchemy didn’t look good. “Doesn’t your potion stuff help with that?”

“It does to a point,” Alchemy said, turning back towards his kit and adjusting another burner. He tugged a drawer open, plucking something out of it with his teeth and pushing the drawer shut once more. She watched as he dropped the leaves in a small pestle and went to work, grinding the plants with a small, smooth stone. “But I didn’t sleep much last night.”

“Look,” she said, the smooth cadence of the mortar and pestle filling the room with a steady rhythm. “Barnabas’s death has been … hard.”

“It’s not that,” Alchemy said before she could continue. “I’m a doctor, Blade,” he said, giving her a faint smile. “I’ve seen enough death up here to give me some experience with it. I’ve even lost ponies I would call friends, out on the ice-dredgers.”

She paused. “Really?”

He nodded, one hoof still grinding away, though she was sure whatever was in the mortar was probably almost powder by this point. “Yeah, ice-dredging can be pretty dangerous. Whether out on one of the boats or just being the town doctor back in Ruffian’s Wharf …” He shrugged. “I’ve seen sapients die before.”

“I should have remembered that,” she said.

Alchemy shrugged. “You’re just doing the right thing,” he said, staring at the bubbling mixture and then giving a nod that she guessed was more to himself than to her. “Checking on me. And, like I said, I didn’t sleep much last night. Or the night before.”

“Why not?” she asked. “I mean, it’s obvious you’re a little on edge. And don’t get me wrong, I think we all are. Losing Barnabas … it’s a blow.”

“It is,” he agreed, reaching into his kit and bringing out a metal funnel. He set it in the mouth of the bubbling flask and then deftly picked up the mortar, shaking its contents into the funnel and from there into the flask. The bubbling mixture shifted colors, first becoming a dark green and then sliding over towards a more virulent pink. The bubbling slowed too, a thicker, more viscous sound.

“But it’s not what’s been keeping me up,” he said, shaking his head as he turned off the burner beneath the potion. “It’s definitely there. Trust me, Blade,” he said, giving her a quick, crestfallen look. “I’m hurting as much as the rest of us. Oddly enough, being a doctor seems to have given me some of the same resilience the rest of you have. I wouldn’t have thought about that before I started out on this.”

“So what’s been keeping you up?”

Alchemy let out a sigh. “The other two things, honestly. That … monstrosity we faced, and .. Anubis. The first one simply because it was sickening. I’ve seen a lot of horrible things in my time—mostly horrible injuries—but I’ve never … I mean … that poor pony …” A shudder ran through his body. “I’ve never seen anything like that before.”

“Me either,” Blade said, her tail twitching behind her as she thought back on the deranged … she didn’t want to call it a beast, but there was really little else she could identify it as. At the time it had just been something to face, but afterwards, seeing the expressions on the faces of the griffons and pirates that had come into the vault and seen it … well ...

“I keep telling myself that maybe he was a volunteer,” Alchemy said, turning back towards the potion. “But maybe he wasn’t. Maybe he had a wife. Kids. I don’t know. The cult did that to him, though.”

“We did a good thing, ending it they way we did,” Blade said.

“I don’t disagree there,” Alchemy said. “It’ll just be a little while before I stop seeing that face in my sleep.”

“You’ll be okay, then?”

“I think I will,” he said, shaking his head. “I just need to … digest things.”

“Well, digest fast,” she said. “We’re meeting in my quarters any minute now.”

“How many minutes?”

She shrugged. “As many minutes as it takes everyone to get there.”

“What are we going to be talking about?”

“Us,” she said. “The team. What we’re doing next. If anything.” She shook her head as he opened his mouth to speak. “Save it for the meeting. My quarters. Say … two minutes.”

“Right,” Alchemy said, glancing back at his potion. “I’ll be there.”

“Good,” she said, backing up and closing the door before letting out a long breath. Well, that actually went an unexpected direction, she thought as she moved toward her quarters. At least he’s not a wreck, though he’s definitely feeling the hit. She could understand that. As much as she tried to ignore it, there was a hollow feeling in her chest, buried beneath all the anger and the frustration. She could feel it pounding against her ribs from time to time, begging to be let out. But that wasn’t going to happen.

You lost someone, but you can make it mean something. That was what she kept telling herself, even if she wasn’t sure she believed it. She paused, one talon on the door to her room. Maybe that’s what Hain meant by … No. She dismissed the thought. Revenge has a way of taking over. Keep a clear head.

Hain was already waiting inside when she opened the door, sitting against the back wall with a level look on his face. “Everyone coming?” he asked as she stepped inside.

She nodded. “Soon enough.”

“Need a plan?”

“I’ve already got one,” she said. “Thanks for the advice earlier.”

Hain shrugged. “After that shouting match I heard about, I figured you needed it.”

“Well, thanks anyway,” she said as she sat down on the other side of the room, leaving a bit of space between them. “It’ll probably come in handy.”

There was a knock at the door, and it slid open slightly to show Frost standing there. The tear-tracks that had been on her face earlier were gone, along with the reddened eyes, but there was still a hint of hurt buried behind them. Hurt and anger.

“Frost,” Blade said as the mare stepped into the room, sitting herself down in the corner by the door.

“Blade.” The room went silent as she shut the the door.

All right, Blade, you can do this. She tapped her talons against the floor. Give everyone a reason for wanting to be a part of the mission, right? She could do that. Hopefully.

There was another knock at the door and Alchemy entered, looking a little more alert than he had a few minutes earlier. He nodded at all of them and then moved to close the door.

“Wait,” Blade said, holding up her talons. She rose and crossed the room, poking her head out of the door and looking in both directions. The hall was empty. And because her room was forward of the others, it was right up against a reserve boiler. There was no one on that side, and with Hain on the other side …

She closed the door. “All right,” she said, striding back across the room towards the corner she’d picked. “No one else is listening.”

“And that would be a problem?” Alchemy asked.

“Just a bit, perhaps,” she said, still standing as she faced the rest of the group. “Also, it’s kind of about us.” She took a deep breath and looked around the rest of the group. “Look, these last few days have been hard on all of us. Losing Barnabas … none of us saw that coming. And finding out that the cult was right, but not about who …” She took a long breath and then shook her head. “If it’s all the same with everyone else, I’d like to just focus on the big question, which is what do you guys want to do next?”

“Go after Anubis,” Frost said, her voice so cold Blade almost expected to see ice growing out across the floor.

“What do you want to do, Blade?” Hain asked.

“The same, actually,” Blade said, looking at him. “Not for the same reasons, obviously. But I accepted a contract. I need to get that key back. I don’t care who has it. I’m getting it back.”

“Then that’s probably what I’ll do,” Hain said, nodding. “I accepted this job, just as you did.”

Blade looked at Alchemy. The earth pony’s eyes had widened.

“Wait,” he said. “Backing out is an option?”

She nodded. “At the moment? Yes. Our deal with the griffons and the Cragtooths has expired. They’ll give us safe passage back to Teardrop, but past that, we’re out of luck. And since I’d kind of planned on getting the key back at the end of this, the only payment we’ve earned thus far is from Captain Titus for bombing the Behemoth, and we haven’t even collected on that yet.”

“We could today, though,” Hain said.

She shrugged. “It’s about five-hundred bits. Not the best payday. In any case, backing out is on the table for anyone who wants it.”

“Well …” Alchemy’s ears went flat as all eyes turned to him. “What about you, Blade? What are you going to do?”

“Me?” She felt her tail lashing back and forth behind her. “I’m going to hunt down Anubis and get that key back, one way or another. I didn’t let an ancient cult stop me, and I’m sure as Tartarus not going to let some immortal do the same thing.”

“Alone?”

She nodded. “If I have to, yeah. I started this job alone. If I end up continuing it alone, so be it.”

“I’m in,” Frost said before anyone else could say anything. “As long as I get to kill Anubis.”

“That’s a pretty daring statement,” Hain said. “They’re called immortals for a reason.”

“I’ll find a way,” Frost said. There was a cold certainty to her words. A shiver ran down Blade’s spine.

She really means it, she thought. She turned towards Hain. “What about you?”

Hain let out a sigh. “I started this job,” he said. “That means I’m in it until the end. Barnabas was a friend of mine as well. If you’re all set to track down this Anubis, well …” He let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “I’m in.”

“Alchemy?” Blade turned towards the earth pony, watching as his eyes widened. “We could really use both you and your potions, but if you want to back out now, I understand. I think the rest of the team will too.”

For a moment she was worried that he would say “No,” that everything was going to fall apart on her. But then he nodded, his jaw set as he looked her in the eye. “Yeah,” he said, his voice steady. “I’m in.”

“Good,” she said. “Glad to hear it. We’ll get that key back, get paid, and along the way—” She caught the look in Frost’s eyes and nodded. “We kill ourselves an immortal.”

“Right,” Hain said. “Barring all the problems with the simplicity and ease of that statement, first we need to catch up to him.”

“I know,” Blade said, a faint feeling of excitement filling her chest. “He went east. And to follow him, we’re going to need transport. Fast transport.”

“So what?” Alchemy asked. “Are we going to get the Arrow?”

“No,” Blade said, shaking her head. “That’d take too long. The trail would go cold, and we’d end up losing him completely if he went underground. He’s in a fast ship, too, so he already has that against us.”

“So then what?” Frost asked, a puzzled expression on her face. “We need a ship.”

Blade grinned. “I thought that would have been obvious,” she said, spreading her wings. “We go for one of my favorite standby plans.” She saw the dawning look of recognition on Hain’s face as the older griffon’s eyes widened.

“We do plan B.”

Count of Laws Broken: 1
Total Laws Broken: 64
Damage Value (In Bits): 45
Total Damage Value (In Bits): 390,941

Chapter 20 - Plan B

View Online

The Vault of Bones

“Your cousin is going to be furious,” Alchemy said as he sat down in front of the helm.

“Noted,” Blade replied as she rushed around the room, eyeing each control and the appropriate label before deciding whether or not to reach out and flick it, push it, or just leave it alone.

“I mean really furious,” Alchemy continued.

“Noted,” she said, pausing in front of the communication station and eyeing the small microphone that sat next to the rest of the signaling equipment. Can this thing send signals to elsewhere on the ship, like the one on the Seeker? Or can it send signals to other ships as well? It was better safe than sorry. She reached down below the console and found a loose bundle of cloth wrapped wires that ran down into the deck. A swift tug tore them free. That ought to mess things up a bit. Hopefully there wasn’t some sort of paranoia switch present in the form of a booby trap. She shook her head, dismissing the thought almost as quickly as it had come.

You’ve been working in the private sector for too long. This is military. They don’t have paranoia. They have redundancy. At the very least, she’d just destroyed backup controls along with the inter-ship communications assembly. Which they weren’t going to need anyway.

“You sure this is a good idea?”

She held back a sigh as she turned to look in the earth pony’s direction. “Alchemy, weren’t you all in favor of continuing the mission twelve hours ago? Are you still for it now?”

“Well,” Alchemy said, pausing in his examination of the helm controls. “Yes.”

“Then let me worry about my cousin,” Blade said, turning and moving to the last of the small bridge’s consoles. More redundancy, she thought as she flipped a few more switches. This thing’s barely bigger than the Arrow, and yet the standard bridge crew is four.

Military. She was remembering why she’d left, now.

“That’s it,” she said as she pulled the last lever back. “We just need to let the boiler finish heating up.” She ran her eyes over the row of gauges, stopping on one with a slowly rising needle. “And I think we’re only a minute or two away.”

There was a knock at the door, and she froze until the knock came again—twice fast, twice slow. The door slid open and Hain walked onto the bridge, followed by Frost.

“Crew’s taken care of,” Hain said. “And our gear is stowed in the galley. We ready to leave?”

“Almost,” Blade said, her attention shifting back to the gauge. “Any minute now.”

“Well, we’d better hurry,” Hain said. “It won’t take too long for someone to find those five.”

“Where’d you put them?”

“We tossed them in one of the cult tents.” Hain walked over to the bridge’s front glass and peered out the window. “They won’t freeze to death before someone finds them.”

“Good.” Blade looked up for a minute and then fixed her eyes on the lone magilight in the center of the bridge. “Someone douse that light, will you? There were only two griffons on the bridge when we took it, and now we’ve got two ponies up here too.”

“Won’t dousing the light make us more suspicious?” Frost asked.

“Not if it looks like we’re about to take off,” Blade said. At least, I hope not, she added as the interior of the bridge went dark. She frowned as the gauges all went dark as well. Wonderful. One source of light.

“Oh,” Frost said before Blade could speak. The light came back, but dimmed. “So that’s why they had that on.”

“Military expense at its best,” Hain said with a chuckle. “Why install proper gauge lighting when you can just install one light?”

One more reason I’m glad I left, Blade thought as she watched the gauge climb. Thankfully, the original designer had given it a helpful label along one side that read “ready,” so all she had to do was wait for the needle to get that far and she could tell Alchemy to go.

She looked up, peering out the glass windows ringing the bridge and trying to pick out details in the shadows outside the ship. She could see the vague outline of another balloon, and faint pinpricks of light coming from other sections of the makeshift camp, but nothing outside of the corvette they’d just hijacked.

Sorry, Kalos, Blade thought as she glanced back down at the needle. It was almost in place. I gave you a chance, but my mission comes before yours. Plus, it’s not like you guys will miss a corvette. True, it was the corvette that the rest of the fleet had fixed up and completely refueled to fly ahead of them to Teardrop in a few more hours, to deliver news of the battle and call for resupply to meet the rest of the fleet halfway, but that preparation was exactly why she’d picked it.

Mostly full on fuel, full on food, and ready to fly with all the needed repairs, she thought. The corvette had all the makings of a perfect mark.

Granted, the forty-foot vessel didn’t have the firepower to take on the Order’s airship, but then it didn’t have the speed to catch up to it either, so that probably wasn’t going to be a problem. All things equal, she thought as the needle touched the base of the “ready” zone. I really would rather we were making this trip in the Seeker. Even damaged, it was a faster ship. But running a full-size frigate with a crew of four wasn’t something she wanted to even bother attempting. Especially a damaged, fuel-stricken frigate.

“We’re up!” she shouted as the needle moved into the ready area. “We’ve got pressure!”

“Right,” Alchemy said, reaching for the controls and then pausing. “Let’s see … We need to cast the mooring lines off.”

“On it,” Frost said, stepping over to the window. Her horn lit with a purple glow, and Blade glanced out the windows to see a thin sliver of ice sawing its way through one of the mooring lines. At the same time, another of the lines was wrapped in the same purple glow, this one untying it from the cleat.

“I’ll get the ones in the back,” Hain said, nodding at her as he moved for the door. Blade returned the nod, watching as Frost finished her work.

Two down, she thought as both ropes slipped down the pointed prow of the airship, sliding off the bow and landing on the ground below. Two to go. The corvette was laid out almost like a yacht, with a raised bridge near the front of the ship’s aerodynamic prow, a more conventional deck behind it. Which wasn’t to say that the front of the ship was completely standard. Halfway up the curved surface,, midway between the point of the bow and the bridge, the ship’s forward line was broken by a small weapons platform. Two walkways worked their way back from the platform and towards the rear deck, moving towards the edges of the ship and lowering themselves to the level of the main deck as they passed by the bridge.

Shame that gun only has a few shots, Blade thought as she looked down at the weapon. A cloth tarp had been slung over it to keep the worst of the weather off, but she could still make out the general outline of its shape. It was home-made, that much was sure, since the design looked like some sort of cross between a cannon and the more modern, cartridge-based designs coming out of the minotaur city-states.

Then again, if we have to use it, we probably screwed up somewhere.

Behind her there was another knock on the door, and then Hain ducked inside. “We’re loose,” he said. “Let’s go.”

“Got it.”

The deck titled beneath Blade’s feet, and she extended her wings slightly, steadying herself. Outside the glass the ground vanished, fading away into the darkness as the corvette began to rise.

The corvette, Blade thought, frowning. “Did anyone catch the name on the side of this thing before we boarded it?”

“You didn’t look?” Hain asked.

“Plan B is more concerned with the means, not the names,” she said. “Plus, we probably shouldn’t name it ourselves.” Outside the glass, the ship continued to rise, ascending past the surrounding envelopes and into the open air above the island. It rocked to one side almost immediately, the wind catching hold of it and pushing it southward.

“Convenient,” Alchemy said as he spun the wheel and began to bring the ship around. “We already needed to go that way. We won’t be fighting the wind for a bit at least.”

Blade nodded, her eyes picking out the distant lights of the Strike of Dawn as it made its circuit off in the distance. Here’s hoping they don’t notice us.

“Onset of Honor,” Hain said, his words pulling her away from her examination of the destroyer.

“What?”

“It’s the name of the ship,” Hain said. “Onset of Honor.”

“Yikes. A bit pretentious isn’t it?” She could see another set of lights past the Strike. The other destroyer? Or one of the frigates that had been made airworthy already?

“Must be their thing,” Hain said, shrugging. The lights of the destroyer continued to slide to one side as Alchemy kept the airship in a steady turn, and Blade watched, searching for any sign that the larger vessel was changing its position or heading.

“Well,” she said, now facing the out the port side of the ship. “I vote we just call it Onset. Or Honor. Something that isn’t several syllables long.”

“I’m going with Onset,” Alchemy said, reaching out and adjusting a lever as the airship began to tilt to one side. “Calling a vessel we just stole Honor is a little too, I don’t know, ironic? Is that irony?”

“Onset it is,” Blade said, turning with the ship and keeping the Strike in her sight. “Can we throttle up already?” One of the lights on the distant carrier flickered, and she held her breath, waiting to see if it came again. Are the signaling us?

“We’re have enough altitude now,” Alchemy said. “Yeah. One second.” From behind the ship there came a steady chugging sound as the propellers began to spin.

“Can we get higher?” Blade asked, watching as the light she’d seen flickered again. That’s definitely a signal. “Into the cloud cover, maybe? Strike is trying to say hello, and I don’t think any of us know how to talk back.”

“I thought both of you had military training,” Alchemy said. “And we can, but we run the risk of ice buildup on the propellers.”

“Do it anyway,” Blade said. “Unless we really push it, the ice isn’t going to do much harm, and I’d rather risk ice than risk one of those guns.”

“And I can take care of the ice,” Frost added.

“To answer your question,” Hain said, moving towards the rear of the bridge and looking out of one of the back windows. “We do have military training. But my air signals are decades out of date, and it wouldn’t matter anyway, because they’re using a clan-dependent code rather than a general one. The moment we say anything back, we’d be speaking the wrong code.”

“Which might not matter in a minute,” Blade said, watching as the Strike sent them a very clear series of signals. “They’re definitely talking to us. Shouting, actually, from the rapidity of the flashing. We’ve got maybe a minute or two before they realize something’s up. Alchemy?”

“On it,” he said, adjusting the throttle. The steady whump-whump of the three rear propellers picked up in intensity, building to a low drone that just barely necessitated speaking slightly louder than usual to be heard. “What’ll they do if they catch us?”

“If they catch us?” Blade repeated, still watching as the Strike began signaling more franticly. She’s probably signaling the rest of the fleet too, by now, she thought. Checking to see if we left early and why we’re not responding.

“If they can get close enough, they’ll send over a few squads of talons and try to board us,” she said. The Strike was moving now, rotating. She decided not to relay the information back towards Alchemy. “And if they can’t get close enough to do that, they’ll probably just shoot us out of the sky.”

“What?” She could see Alchemy’s reflection jerk back in the glass as he turned to look at her. “I thought you said that they were out of ammunition?”

“I said they were mostly out,” she replied.

“Oh. Well great,” he said as he turned back to the controls. The faint drone of the propellers shifted slightly as he began coaxing a little bit more power out of the engines. “Then I guess we could only end up mostly dead.”

“Mostly dead’s not bad,” Hain said. “I once read a book about a griffon who ended up mostly dead. A pirate. Mostly dead’s not all dead. A little medical miracle, and he was back on his talons.”

“I think I already used up my one miracle potion for my lifetime,” Alchemy said. “Have they noticed something’s up?”

“Uh,” Blade said, trying to decide whether or not she should tell him. She saw Alchemy shake his head.

“Nevermind,” he said. “The silence says it all.”

“Right. How soon can we be in those clouds?” she asked.

“In about another minute or two,” Alchemy said. “Hold on.” The deck began to tilt underfoot, rocking back as the bow of the ship rose slightly.

“Make it fast,” Blade said as a flash erupted along the front of the destroyer’s bow. Something whizzed past them, a whistling drone traveling in its wake that was drowned out a moment later by a distant boom. “Scratch that, make it really fast.” Another flash, followed by another whistle as the shot missed them by meters. “Alchemy … ?”

“Working on it!” the earth pony yelled. The Onset jerked underfoot as he spun the wheel, going into a tight turn.

“Frost! Blade!” Hain called as the ship continued to tilt back, doing its best to go into a steep climb. “Douse the lights! Fast!”

The lights! “Right!” she called, jumping for the rear of the ship. “I’ll take the back!”

“Rear!” Hain called as she exploded out the door.

“Eyes off it!” she shouted back without thinking. Her talons dug into the deck as she spread her wings, the hallway tilting beneath her as Alchemy continued to turn the ship as far onto its side as it could go.

Good, she thought as she burst out onto the rear deck. The less profile they’ve got the better. The rear deck was dimly lit, almost nothing but faint, dark shapes scattered across a vague outline that was well lit by twin rear lanterns that were steadily glowing despite the motions of the ship.

Another shot whistled past, closer still than the last two, followed by the distant boom of one of the Strike’s main guns, and she spread her wings, half-flying, half running across the tilting deck, ignoring the cutting cold of the wind as it swept across her body. Another whistling shot, this one passing so close to the ship she swore she could feel the faint shift of the wind in its passing.

She locked her talons around the stern gunwale, extending the claws on hindpaws and digging them into the heavy wood as she grappled with starboard lantern, her talons bouncing off of the warm metal.

Come on … she thought as she finally locked her talons around the bobbing lantern, beating her wings to keep from falling off of the rear of the ship. There! The light went out as she twisted the lantern wick down, the flame fading away to embers that glimmered against the glass.

She shoved herself back, twisting her body and digging into the gunwale wood with her talons as the ship began to shake.

Crosswind! she thought as she pulled herself towards the port lantern. We must be just below the cloud cover! She could feel the Onset starting to jerk and buck beneath her as the heavy winds tore at the envelope, yanking the airship back and forth. Another whistling sound rolled through the air, but it was more distant, off. The winds were making the ship hard to target.

Still, the last lantern needed to go. The lights both on and in the bridge had gone dark, but as long as there was a single light that the Striker’s gunnery crews could target … She threw her upper body over the side just as the Onset jerked, dropping several feet through the air, her rear legs leaving the deck. The gunwale slammed into her side, knocking the breath out of her and sending her tumbling forward over the back of the airship.

No! She lashed out with both pairs talons, the first meeting only air. The second caught, digging into the rear end of the ship, and for a moment she was dangling, her entire body hanging from one forelimb as her rear legs struggled to find purchase.

If I fall, and they make it into the clouds, there’s no guarantee I’d be able to catch up. One of her rear claws bit, scratching what would probably be a fine scar into the back of the ship before getting enough bite to pull her legs in. The other leg gripped, and she pushed herself up and over the railing just as the vessel jerked again, the wind tearing it to one side with a sudden gust that would have sent her spinning from the back had she still been clinging there.

She took a careful breath, her chest still throbbing from the heavy hit, and then, steadying herself against the gunwale with one forelimb, reached out and caught the rear lantern in her claws.

Why, in all seriousness, are these things just hanging from the back? she wondered as the light went out. Just because old sailing ships did that, or what? That’s a terrible design. Maybe there was an engineering reason or something behind it but, as she dropped back to the now even darker deck, her stance wide to keep her center of balance low, she couldn’t think of one.

Another whistle cut through the air, but it was faint, subdued. Off target. She could feel a dampness around her now, cloud cover doing its best to soak into her wings and coat, and she pressed through it, willing the tendrils of cloud to part around her as she moved back to the rear door.

By the time she reached the bridge, the ship was surrounded on all sides by thick, heavy clouds, the faint light of the distant moon far above filling them with a wispy, inward light that was just bright enough for her to make out the faint shapes of the rest of the team.

“How’d it go?” Hain asked as she slid the door shut behind her.

“About as well as could be expected,” she said, stepping up to where the rest of the group was clustered around the helm. “Almost took a tumble, but didn’t. I’ll probably have a bit more to say about that after it settles in how close I came to having to fly back to the Strike.”

“Well, it worked,” Hain said. “They’ve stopped shooting. And we’re in the clouds. So we can probably turn eastward anytime you want to.”

“We need to decide where we’re headed, first,” she said. “There’s a few settlements on the eastern edge of the ocean, right?”

“Yeah,” Hain said. “Though none really that we want to head for. There’s the Bloodhooves fortress—Windfell—due east of here, but we’d best avoid that.”

“I plan to,” she said. “Anubis didn’t strike me as the type to bother with a bunch of pirates.”

“Me either,” Hain said, stepping over towards the navigation station. “Frost, could we get a little light over here?” A small purple glow flickered into place above the desk, and Hain shuffled through the carefully organized materials until he held up a small map of the ocean printed on plastic.

“Here,” Hain said, holding the map up as he walked back and then setting it on the side of the helm. “We’re about right here,” he said, tapping the map with one claw. “Near Anubis’s vault. That’s Windfell fortress right there,” he said, shifting his talon. “And these …” A series of taps along the eastern coast of the ocean, marking out settlements dotting the coastline all the way down to The Choke at the southeastern corner. “These are settlements. Small ones, most of them. These three,” he said, his talon making faint taps as it touched the plastic. “These are all Bloodhoof run places. From back when they were trying to cut off trade with the Empire.”

“I take it that didn’t work,” Blade said, smirking. Some of her own clan had been part of that trading industry.

“No,” Hain said, a low chuckle mixing with the drone of the propellers. “It didn’t. And as powerful as the Bloodhooves were, the cult didn’t support their ban, or come to their aid when a couple top-of-the-line frigates wiped their raiding party off of the map.”

“Wouldn’t that violate the trade law, though?” Alchemy asked. “I mean, that’s the only thing I’ve ever heard the Ocean be unified on: You invade the ocean with any military force, and they’ll shut off trade for a few years. No ethereal crystals.”

“True,” Hain said, and Blade saw the amused look in his eyes as they flickered towards her. She felt a flutter of panic in her gut. “Of course, there’s a few ways around that law, like hiring someone like Blade here—”

Thunderheads and jackal spit! Blade thought as Hain gave her a knowing look. Alchemy turned and stared at her, wide-eyed with surprise, while Frost’s only reaction was to lift a single eyebrow.

“—which she can tell us all about in a minute,” Hain continued. “And in case you’re wondering, I figured it a while ago,” he said. “Not many have the money to hire someone like you at a price so high to fetch something so valuable, and fewer still have enemies of an immortal tier. In fact, there aren’t many of those left.”

“In any case,” he said, turning back towards the map, though Alchemy’s seemed firmly fixed on Blade. “All the Empire had to do was bait the pirates out of territory that was actually considered to be part of the Ocean. Once they passed that line—which you can bet the Bloodhooves weren’t paying much attention to—the hammer came down and cut them apart.”

“No survivors?” Frost and Alchemy asked at the same time. The pair glanced at each other in equal surprise, as if trying to surmise from the other what had led them to speak.

“Several, actually,” Hain said. “Standard Empire policy.”

“Never completely destroy your opponent,” Blade said, reciting from memory the famous quote. “Leave a few alive to tell the rest of your foes how outmatched they truly are. General Nadiya Sandcrest.”

“That’s … pretty hardcore,” Alchemy said, shooting a glance at Frost as he spoke. She was staring back at the map.

“That’s only half the quote,” Blade said, shrugging. “The rest of it was ‘And if you feel the need to, make sure you let them know that they only lived because you willed it. Break a few limbs, maybe remove an eye, but make sure at least one is completely unharmed. Then there will be no mistake.’”

“Okay,” Alchemy said, a shocked look on his face. “That’s … even more hardcore.”

“Well,” Blade said. “She didn’t mess around. Interestingly enough, her army was facing down several immortals when she said that. I guess she wanted them to know that if they kept along the path they were on, she was either going to kill them or do her best to mutilate them.”

“It worked, though,” Hain said. “And it did the same here. Nowadays they’re mostly just junk ports; holdout points where pirates like to take comfort in numbers and drink rotgut and salt.”

“So those are off the table.”

“Unless you want to give that gun at the front a nice test firing,” Hain said. “And I don’t think Anubis would go there anyway.”

“Why not?” Blade asked.

“Simple,” Hain said. “They’re settlements, but they’re not self-sufficient. Junk ports and docks don’t have much in the way of fuel or supplies.”

“Which Anubis will need,” Blade said, nodding. A tremor shook the ship, the bridge shaking as a heavy gust of wind shook it.

“Sorry, guys,” Alchemy said, turning back to the controls. “We’re catching some turbulence. I’ll take us up a bit more.”

“Don’t,” Blade said as Hain said “No.” They glanced at each other.

“We’ll stay in the cloud cover for a while longer,” Blade said, giving her reason for the order. Hain nodded in agreement. “If we surface above the clouds and they have a ship looking for us, we’ll be a clear target.”

“Right,” Alchemy said. The ship shook again. “You’re the boss.”

“Anyway,” Hain said, pulling their attention back to the map as the Onset rocked. “For either of those, this is the best option. “Spindle Rock Outpost. It’s a the core trade hub with the Empire,” he said, looking up at Blade. “And the best place to get fuel, food, or any other supplies we need.”

“So Anubis will probably have stopped there, or at least his ship. Will the town open to the cult?” she asked.

“Probably,” Hain said. “I can’t claim to be an expert on some of the politics, but they’ve held a fairly even neutral stance during everything due to their trade deals.”

“We don’t have any money,” Frost said. “Fuel isn’t cheap. Nor are supplies.”

“We have money,” Blade said, grinning as she stomped one foreleg against the deck. “We have a whole ship worth of equipment we can barter with.”

“The Teardrop Eyrie won’t like that.”

“Not my problem,” Blade said. “Besides, we don’t have to sell the easily traceable stuff. There’s bound to be equipment on this thing we can barter for fuel if we look. Especially in a trade port.”

“I agree,” Hain said, nodding. “So we’ll need to head southeast.”

“As soon as we get above the clouds,” Alchemy said. “Right now we’re navigating by compass, so I’d prefer to get an idea of where we are first.”

Hain nodded. “Now that we’ve decided that …” He turned towards Blade. “I think its about time that you finally gave us the details of who exactly we’re working for.”

She nodded. “How long have you been sure?”

“Like I said,” the old griffon replied. “I was pretty sure after the vault. Before that I was just suspicious. My guess is that you’re working for an immortal.”

“Close,” she said, shaking her head. “And I guess there’s no point in hiding it.”

“Indeed,” Hain said, shifting his weight slightly. He was taking a combat stance. “Because there’s only so many immortals left in the world today.” His voice was solid, with a dangerous undertone to it. “And if you’re not working for one of the ones with our best interests in mind, I’d like to know. Now.”

“No need to pull out your knife,” she said, forcing her tail to stay still. She didn’t want to send him any wrong signals. Especially now that Frost and Alchemy’s eyes were fixed on her as well. “And I’m technically not working for a pair of immortal sisters who happen to run a country south of here.”

“Technically not?” Alchemy asked.

“Plausible deniability,” Hain said, his tone gruff, though some of the threat had faded. “In case she said too much.”

“Exactly,” Blade said, nodding. “In fact, I’m not even certain that they know I was hired.”

“So who hired you?”

“A Guard,” she said, relaxing a little. It felt good to get the weight off of her chest. “And before you ask, he didn’t know anything about Anubis,” she said, her eyes darting towards Frost. “His name’s Hunter. He’s a pegasus serving in the Equestrian Dusk Guard.”

“Dusk Guard?” Hain asked, frowning. “I’ve never heard of them.”

She smirked. “I think that’s the idea. They’re a bit low key at the moment. They’re a kind of commando talon analog, a special operations group. Very high tech. Very highly trained.”

“And they’re good?” Hain asked.

“They’re led by a pony named Steel Song,” she said, watching as Hain’s eyes widened in shock. “You might have heard of him. He is, as far as I’m aware, the only non-griffon Blademaster in existence.”

“And he’s leading a special operations team?” Hain asked, still wide-eyed. He sounded shocked by the news.

Guess he has heard of him. “Yeah,” she said. “And his second in command is the pegasus that hired me. Under the table, of course.”

“I see.” Hain was staring off into space now. “You realize that means that this whole mess could be blamed right back on him, don’t you?” He paused, as if recognizing his own words. “So, of course,” he said, spreading his wings and then reseating them. “You didn’t tell us …”

“Operational security,” she said. “But since you were guessing anyway, I figured I might as well spill, provided the rest of you understand what’s at stake here. If you talk, or breathe a word of who hired us and why, you can promise yourself you’ll never see a dime of the payday.”

“Speaking of which, I think I see exactly what was eating you about this job in the first place,” Hain said. “Your last job put you up against your friend, didn’t it?”

“It did.”

“So you took the job not just for the money, but as a way to earn back his trust.”

She shook her head, her tail lashing behind her. “I don’t think I lost it,” she said. “At the same time, I don’t think he understood why the choice I made was the choice I made. And for that matter, I’m not sure I did either.”

“So you’re in this to put some honor on both sides of the equation.” Hain nodded. “I understand that.”

“Yeah, well … Making a choice like that helped me understand your history a little better,” she said. “So yeah.”

“Hence why you were interested in … heh.” He shook his head, an odd expression on his face. “All right, I’ll give you that. So what about now?”

“Now?”

“Is it still about the money and your friend, like you said? Or is this about something bigger?”

She didn’t hesitate long. “Something bigger,” she said. She paused for a moment and then looked at Alchemy. “That’s long enough, Al. Take us up.” Might as well get a nice view while I talk.

“Right.” The Onset tilted back, the pit of Blade’s stomach falling as the airship began to rise.

“Look, I won’t lie,” she said. “I still want to get that key back and get paid. And I want to pay my friend back as well. But now? That’s kind of secondary stuff. We’ve got an immortal out there. An immortal who killed a member of this team who was my friend, who made it abundantly clear that he doesn’t care about any of us ‘mortals.’ And you know what? That’s not the kind of being I want to let walk away.”

“We stopped the cult, yes,” she said, lifting a fist. “But some of their worst members are still out there. Along with a demigod who might just be a whole lot worse.” She took a quick look around at the group.

“So while we might all have different reasons to be doing what we’re doing. Money, revenge, whatever … I think there’s one more reason we ought to add to the list.”

“To do the right thing. Like Hain did,” she said, looking at the older griffon. “When he stood up for his command and refused to let them die in a pointless fight.” She turned towards Alchemy. “Like you did when you did something crazy and dangerous that your master had told you never to do. Or even like Frost,” she said, turning towards the unicorn mare. “Who made a couple of snowballs for some kids because she knew her brother would like it.” The clouds around them were getting brighter now, the turbulence fading as they moved up towards the open sky.

“And then there’s me,” she said, shrugging. “I guess, in light of recent events …”

“You tracked down an old, slightly drunk griffon and bribed him into doing something other than sit and stew in his regrets,” Hain said.

“You told me my mistake made me a super-soldier, “ Alchemy said. “It wasn’t a career I ever considered before, but it seems I’m pretty good at it. It’s kind of like aggressive, preventative medical treatments.”

“You gave me and my brother the best shot we ever had at taking down the cult,” Frost said. “And you did just steal an airship from the Icewing clan because you knew time was of the essence if we’re going to stop Anubis from reaching another part of the world.”

“Well … Yeah,” Blade said, nodding. “I guess you’re right. I did do all that. So I guess, in light of what the goal was with that …” She took a deep breath as the ship broke through the clouds, the light of the moon sweeping through the bridge and painting everything in a silvery-white light.

“I’m doing this because it’s a good thing,” she said. “Someone needs to stop Anubis, and we’re the only ones taking it seriously enough to do it. We don’t have the time to track down someone else, and there’s no one else in the right place. So, for money, for doing a good thing, and maybe—” She grinned. “Maybe for a little fun, I want to track this guy down and get those keys back. And kick his butt in the process. You in?”

She looked over at Hain. The old griffon cracked a smile and then nodded. She turned to Frost. The ice-blue mare nodded as well. So did Alchemy.

“Well, then,” she said. “I guess that settles it. We go to Spindle—”

The sky erupted in colors, and her voice died in her throat as twisting ribbons of light washed across the black expanse.

“What the …” Alchemy said. “That isn’t Luna’s Tribute.”

“No,” Hain said, walking over to the window. Frost and Blade followed. “It’s coming from the south.” He was right. She could see a twisting, beating point of origin coming from somewhere beyond the Crystal Mountains.

“Is it Anubis?” Alchemy asked.

“No,” Blade said, shaking her head. There was something … warm ... about the lights. Something that made her feel like things were going to be okay. “No,” she said again. “It’s not. I think it’s something good.”

“Yeah,” Frost said. “It’s nice.”

“Whatever it is, it’s not what we’re dealing with,” Blade said. “But I wouldn’t mind sitting here and watching for a while.”

And she did. The Onset slid through the night, silver cotton below it and a twisting, warm rainbow of colors above.

The hollow in her chest was gone.

Count of Laws Broken: 5
Total Laws Broken: 69
Damage Value (In Bits): 0
Total Damage Value (In Bits): 390,941

Chapter 21 - Onward

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Spindle Rock - Eastern coast of the Ocean of Endless Ice

“Well,” Blade said, looking out the glass at the moderately busy airship dock around them. Ponies were moving in all directions, assisting one another with heavy loads, or shouting orders to small teams as they went to work refueling the Onset. “What’d you find out?”

“It took a little asking around,” Hain said as he stepped up alongside her, his own gaze peering out through the glass at Spindle Rock’s modest airship facility. “But we’re definitely on the right track.”

“He was here?” She turned her eyes towards the older griffon, watching his response.

“He was,” Hain said, nodding. “It took a few bits to help some hooves slide across the ice, but I got what we needed. Superiority came through here a little over three days ago.”

“So we’re making good time,” Blade said. “That’s good.”

“Better,” Hain said. “They apparently stayed for almost ten hours, taking on a lot of fuel and supplies. A few of the unicorns went around asking questions too, but I couldn’t get anyone to talk about that.”

“And no one else left the ship?”

“Not that they could see,” Hain said. A deep thump resonated through the deck, and Blade looked out the glass to see a team of ponies jumping to the deck alongside a heavy crane hook that had bounced off the ship’s bow. She gave them a scowl, but none of them noticed. They were too busy peeling back the cloth tarp that had been tied over the forward cannon.

“So Anubis was still on board,” she said, watching as the mechanic team began to distribute tools.

“Unless he teleported off and no one saw him,” Hain said. “Though I’m guessing you find that about as likely as I do.”

“Yeah,” Blade said, watching as the first of the heavy bolts securing the massive cannon to the deck was pried loose. “If he didn’t get off and terrorize the populace, then he’s still on the ship.”

“If you want my opinion …” Hain began. She glanced at him and nodded before returning to her vigil. “The fact that he didn’t get off the ship and simply terrify everyone says something about what sort of foe we’re dealing with.”

“A dangerous one,” Blade said. Out on the deck, there were only a few bolts left in place securing the cannon. Two pegasi were already wrapping heavy lifting straps around the sides, preparing the weapon for its removal.

“A smart dangerous one,” Hain said, nodding. “Just based on how he acted in the vault, he enjoys the attention. Yet here, the cult paid for everything rather than simply terrifying everyone into submission. I only heard about that because a few of the ponies I spoke with said it was strange.”

“Really?” Blade asked. “How so?”

“They didn’t bargain,” Hain said, turning to look at her once more. “According to the dockhooves here—and going off of experience in the past—the Order would always try to enforce the lowest possible price, either by threats or just outright theft.”

“And this time they didn’t?” The deck rumbled again underfoot, this time a long, distorted grind as the cannon shifted on its mount, twisting away from the metal that had held it for who knew how long. Several of the workers steadied it, one of them signaling with his wings at the crane operator to lower the weapon back down. She complied, and the straps were adjusted.

“No,” Hain said as the cannon began to lift into the air, spinning gently as it swung out away from the ship. “They paid up front, with no questions asked and only a bit of their usual bluster.”

“Did everyone just associate it with the defeat?” she asked.

“No,” Hain replied. “The news hasn’t made it here yet, and I didn’t tell them. They’ll find out before long, and from someone who’ll make good use of the news.”

She nodded. It was a fair enough reason. Down on the forward deck, the dockhooves were checking over the mount, making sure the weapon’s removal hadn’t had any surprising effects. “So Anubis was keeping them on a tight leash.”

“Most likely,” Hain turned away from the window and dropped himself into the seat by the navigator’s station. “It tells us a little about him though.”

“Like he doesn’t want word getting out too early that he’s out,” Blade said, turning to continue talking with him. “He didn’t mind us knowing, since he had to get out one way or another …”

“But he’s not making any grand gestures just yet,” Hain finished. “I agree. As near as I can tell, no one in town had any idea that he’d been here. And there weren’t any of the obvious signs of memory tampering either, so the cult didn’t try it that I could see.”

“That’d work?” she asked, surprised.

“Not for long,” he said. “Short term, sure. Or with constant reinforcement. But even then, even if the magic is really good you start to see odd cracks, and I didn’t see any of those.”

“Right,” she said. “Anything else?”

He shook his head. “No. None of the ponies I spoke with around town knew where the ship was going or even what the heading was past ‘east.’”

“Not that helpful then,” she said.

“No,” he said, stretching his forelegs out and yawning. “Aside from knowing that our opponent is playing things soft at the moment.”

“Well, hopefully he’s not being so soft that we can’t catch him,” she said, sitting.

“Agreed.” Hain looked out the window again, out at the docks. “Frost and Alchemy said anything yet?”

“No,” Blade said, shaking her head. “Frost is still out checking her contacts, and Alchemy’s overseeing the dockhooves checking on the boiler and engine. Did you get the supplies ordered?”

“I did,” Hain said. “Hopefully you got a good deal with that cannon, because I got us some luxury items.”

“Oh?” She cocked her head in his direction, her taste buds salivating as several meals rushed to the forefront of her mind. “Like what?”

“Fresh meat, for starters,” the older griffon said. “Chicken and rabbit.”

“Now that I value almost as much as hearing we’re still on track following Anubis,” Blade said, trying not to drool as she let her shoulders slide downward in relaxation. “Fresh meat? I’d almost be willing to sell a chunk of the ship for that.”

“We did,” Hain said, jerking his head towards the empty mount where the cannon had sat.

“You know what I mean,” she said, scowling at him. “The gun won’t be any help, so we might as well sell it. How much meat did you get?”

“Four chickens and six rabbits,” Hain said. “It wasn’t cheap, but the butcher’ll deliver them fresh in another hour or two. Then we can freeze them or eat them, your call.”

“We eat some of them,” Blade said, letting out a satisfied sigh as her stomach rumbled. “I’ve had enough frozen or cured meat to last me a while.”

“Same here,” Hain said with a nod. “Also, I picked up a bunch of the standard stuff. Potatoes, dried veggies, oats.”

“The usual fare then.”

“Yeah. I didn’t know how long we’d be using the Onset, so they’re going to supply us pretty well.”

She shrugged. “If we don’t end up needing it, we can just add it into whatever happens to the ship.”

Hoofsteps echoed up from the hall, and Blade looked over to see Frost walk onto the bridge. The mare looked almost normal without her bow, though the hard look on her face certainly didn’t do much to add to the effect. Still, with a pair of plain looking saddlebags thrown over her sides and without her usual weapon, the mare could have passed for a regular unicorn having a lousy day.

“Any luck?” Blade asked as Frost came to a stop. The mare shook her head.

“Unfortunately, no,” she said, scowling. “The cult came, purchased its goods, and was gone after a brief stay to resupply. None of their usual bluster or bullying.”

“Hain was saying the same thing,” Blade said. “They didn’t even bother pushing for low prices.”

“I heard that as well,” Frost said. “Also, several of my contacts did imply that there was something unusual about the way they were acting.”

“Oh?” Blade said, glancing at Hain that then back at Frost. “How so?”

“They said that a number of them seemed distracted. Short tempered; irritable. Moreso than usual,” Frost replied. “They also didn’t spend much time in town; they were in, refueled and out as quickly as they could acquire their supplies.”

“More interesting, and perhaps more telling,” she said. “Sagis himself actually came out to shout at the dock crew, and sent several mages to assist when they didn’t move fast enough.”

“Assist?” Hain asked, lifting an eyebrow. “Or take over?”

“Assist,” Frost repeated with a nod. “Completely out of character for them. Several of my contacts wanted to know what was going on.”

“Did you tell them?” Blade asked.

Frost shook her head, her mane cascading around her shoulders. “Of course not. I’ve found my informants are better served by knowing as little as possible so they can more accurately feign ignorance if questioned.”

“Good,” Blade said with a nod. “What’s your take on it?”

“Anubis—” The word came out like a curse, “—is running things. Keeping them on a tight leash.”

Blade nodded. “We were coming to the same conclusion,” she said. “He’s keeping himself to the shadows and playing things carefully.”

“And quickly, I would think,” Hain added. “Pushing the cult to act like that is bound to raise some eyebrows.”

“But not too many,” Blade said. She turned back towards Frost. “Did your spies notice anything else out of the ordinary? Strange magic use? Walking skeletons?”

Frost paused. “There was one thing. One of my contacts was working the airship docks that day, though he wasn’t assigned to service the ship. But he did mention that one of his friends said that they weren’t actually allowed to go on the ship, but he was fine with it because it, and I quote, ‘creeped him out.’”

“Did they let anyone else on?” Blade asked. “Or did anyone else get the same feeling?”

“He didn’t know,” Frost said. “He didn’t think it was important, since most sapients around here try to avoid the cult anyway.”

“And there weren’t any Bloodhooves around?”

Frost shook her head. “They buy goods here, but they don’t stick around. According to my contacts, they haven’t been around for at least two weeks.”

“So no troubles there.”

“No.”

Blade nodded as she rose and walked back over to the window, looking out over the docks and watching the dockhooves work. Hopefully they’d be back in the air soon. The less time we spend sitting here, the more time we save catching up to Anubis. The few days it had taken them to reach Spindle Rock had, according to what they’d learned, already given the immortal an extra day’s lead. If we could cut that down by six or seven hours, that’d be six or seven hours less chance for him to disappear.

Hopefully Alchemy would get something out of the dock crews. While she’d been figuring out what they could afford to strip and sell from their appropriated ship and Frost and Hain had been out gathering information and supplies, Alchemy’s job had been to work with the dockhoof crews to oversee the refueling of the Onset as well as see what sort of information he could pry out of them.

Something like a heading would be perfect, Blade thought as she watched a trio of ponies wind up a stiff, heavy hose—probably fuel or water supply. There’s only so many places he can go from here, and if he keeps in a straight line …

It was a big if, but at the same time, she had a feeling the immortal was arrogant enough that he didn’t care. Not getting his name out was one thing, but being in fast airship and with no one to stop him, a straight line was his best option.

But where is he headed? she wondered. And why? Maybe he wasn’t heading anywhere specific in particular. Maybe he was just running for the sake of running, moving until he could put some distance between himself and anyone who might be interested in his release so that he could go to ground.

Then again, that’d be hard for him to do, she thought as she watched another crane swing away from the side of the ship, this one with two of the ship’s rear ballistas attached to it. If he’s been sealed in that prison of his for over a thousand years, how would he know where to hide?

Something felt off about her line of thought, and she caught herself. He didn’t call it a prison, did he? What was it he said? That he’d sealed himself in it?

Why would an immortal lock himself away like that? And for what?

A wooden knock echoed through the bridge, and she turned to see one of the dock forecolts, a green earth pony wearing a yellow hardhat, standing by the entrance to the bridge. A work harness full of tools was slung across his back, blocking her from being able to pick out his cutie mark. Probably something carpentry or airship related, she thought.

“Permission to come in, Captain?” he asked.

Blade nodded. “How’s it going?” she asked as the earth pony trotted onto the bridge. “Anything we need to know?”

The forecolt nodded as he came to a stop. “Yeah,” he said, reaching behind towards his work harness and pulling out a small clipboard. “A couple of issues, though nothing too big. Your water is topped off, both for the boilers and for drinking. The fuel should be done soon, though as a bit of a warning, you probably burned more than you needed getting here, judging from the levels.” He lifted an eyebrow at her, as if inviting her to say something in that regard, but she stayed silent.

“Let’s see,” he said, looking back down at his clipboard and flipping to the second page. “There was quite a bit of damage to the stern quarter of the ship, specifically the starboard side near one of the prop-shafts, but nothing that would impair the function of the ship in anyway, provided you don’t feel like using one of those storage spaces.” He glanced up at her. “We could have it fixed in a couple of hours, if you’d like.”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “If it isn’t going to impair the ship, we’re going to get it fixed later.”

“Your call, lady,” the forecolt said. “We did notice though, that a lot of the damage looks like battle damage. You guys have a run-in with pirates?”

“After a fashion,” Blade said, nodding. It was true enough. They just hadn’t been the owners of the ship when it had happened. The stallion tilted his head, as if waiting for her to elaborate.

“What’s next?” she asked, and he turned back down to his clipboard, disappointment on his face.

“Well, you did run your boilers a little hot getting here,” he said. “Actually, you ran everything a little hot getting here. From the look of it, you were really pushing the engine.”

“Is it a problem?” Blade asked.

“Well, no,” the pony admitted, shaking his head. “The whole thing can take it, you’re just going to burn more fuel and water than you would normally. Plus, it’ll put wear and tear on the mechanics. Our boys looked over it like you wanted us to, and the whole rig is in good shape—you’ve been taking care of it, that much is clear—but if you run it like this all the time, it’ll need maintenance soon enough.”

“How soon?”

“Hard to say,” the pony said, scratching the side of his head. “Two weeks? Maybe three? That’s only if nothing breaks, mind,” he said. “We’ve gone over everything major, but we still might have missed something. For the kind of running you’re doing, most of these parts just aren’t qualified or expected to last long.”

There was another thump from beyond the bridge, and Blade looked away from the forecolt to see Alchemy step onto the bridge, shaking his body against what was probably a cold, outside chill. “They’re almost done,” he announced, nodding at each of them. “The fuel’s just getting topped off, they have one more spot on the envelope they want to check, and the food delivery just arrived, but we’re ready to fly outside of that.”

“Glad to hear it,” Blade said. “We were just talking about that with, uh—” She glanced back at the hardhat-wearing pony. “Sorry, what was your name, again?”

“Moss Pines,” the forecolt said. “Either-or is fine.”

“Moss, here,” Blade said, looking back at Alchemy. “He says we’ll need to keep a closer eye on the boiler and … Well, all that stuff,” she finished. “Apparently we’re running it a little hard.”

“Dockhooves said the same thing,” Alchemy said, moving up to the front of the bridge and taking a quick look out the front windows. Then he shot the forecolt a grin. “Don’t worry, we’ll take care of her.”

“Right,” Moss said, nodding. Apparently the answer was good enough for the earth pony, though, because he flipped his chart to the next page.

“Aside from that, then,” he said, reading a few lines and then looking up. “You’re full on liftgas, just like you requested, and your account has been credited the payment for the weapons and parts you sold us, at the agreed-on prices.” Blade caught a faint grumble in his voice as he spoke, and she had to hold back the urge to smile. She’d bargained hard.

“We’ll be subtracting the cost of your food and fuel, as well as any maintenance,” the forecolt said. “But that’ll still leave you with a net payment to collect, which you can pick up at the airdock office anytime.” He flipped the pages of the clipboard back into place and gave them a polite nod. “Other than that, I think we’re all square, unless you’ve got anything else for us to check out. Or the envelope crews find something that needs to be looked at.”

“No,” Blade said, shaking her head as the stallion placed the clipboard back into his bags. “That’s everything we needed. Thanks.”

“Welcome,” the forecolt said, giving them each a nod. “And güvenli yolculuklar.”

“Thanks,” Blade called as the forecolt turned and excused himself from the bridge. Then she looked toward the rest of the team. “Well, I guess that’s good news then.” Alchemy was still smiling, and she looked at him as she phrased her next question. “Any idea how long that envelope crew will take?”

“Not much longer,” Alchemy said, still grinning. She could see the excited look of accomplishment in his eyes.

I’ll have to ask if he looked that excited while out gathering information with the dock hooves, she thought as she looked down at the earth pony. Then again, he has a sort of innocent way about him. Maybe it’s in his favor.

“So,” she said, walking over to the bridge door and sliding it closed. Just in case someone’s still aboard. “I’m guessing you found something out?”

Alchemy nodded. “Yes,” he said. “Some interesting stuff. Like the fact that the dock hooves didn’t have much contact with the ship.”

Blade nodded. “Frost said the same, so that’s a second correlation with that one.”

“Right, right,” Alchemy said. He didn’t seem too surprised by the revelation. “What about the fact that the ship made them uneasy?”

“One of my contacts mentioned that as well,” Frost said. “The Order has a tendency to do that, even when acting unusual.”

“No,” Alchemy said, shaking his head. “I don’t mean like that. I mean afraid.”

Blade felt the feathers of her ruff rise slightly and she leaned forward, her eyes narrowing. She hadn’t heard that yet. “What do you mean by afraid?” she asked.

“I mean spooked,” Alchemy said. “And not by the cult. There were a few workers I talked to who were genuinely scared by it. They said anytime they got near the ship, even if they were working on something else nearby, they couldn’t help but feel afraid of it. One of them said it was like a ‘creeping dread’ that cropped up anytime she was near the Superiority, even if she was just passing by.”

“Okay,” Hain said. “That’s interesting.”

“Agreed,” Frost said. “It sounds very similar to the fear effect that we experienced when we were in the vault.” Her voice lifted a notch as she said the word “vault,” almost croaking but quickly regaining composure.

“That’s what I thought,” Alchemy said. “It sounds like our quarry wanted to make sure everypony stayed a good distance back from his boat.”

“Maybe,” Blade said, the group’s eyes switching to her as she spoke up. “It might not be though. Or that could just be a side benefit. He could be using it as a bit of suggestion on his own crew as well.” She looked over towards Frost. “Didn’t you say that your contacts reported the cult being unusually …” She searched for the right word. “Distracted? Mellow?”

Frost nodded. “They did.”

“Subtle reinforcement of who’s in charge,” Hain said. “Keep them slightly afraid, make sure that they know who the real boss is. Rule through fear and intimidation.”

“That actually lines up with what tiny bit I recall reading about Anubis from the history books,” Blade said. “Not that I remember much, but he was supposed to be pretty good at keeping control of his followers with a variety of methods.”

“Fear and intimidation?” Hain asked.

“Among other things,” she said, shaking her head. “I can’t remember most of it, since I was interested in reading about other things. But Anubis was definitely a dangerous operator. I know he had something to do with a number of military campaigns against the Plainslands, but other than that …” She shrugged. “Ancient history.”

“Well, that wasn’t all I got out of the dockhooves,” Alchemy said. “One of them mentioned that he’d overheard a few of the crew talking about someone that seemed to be ordering Sagis around. They didn’t like it.”

“Did he hear anything else?”

Alchemy shook his head. “No. And he didn’t want to, either. He came up with an excuse to vanish before either of them noticed he was around.”

“I don’t blame him,” Blade said. Still, it was good news. “So Anubis is still on board, then. That confirms it.”

“Wait,” Alchemy said, a satisfied smile on his face. “I’ve got one more bit of info. And it’s a good one.”

“Saved the best for last?” Frost asked.

He nodded. “Yeah. It took some doing, but I got a heading from—”

“You what?” Blade said, her wings flaring out. “You know where they’re going?”

“Roughly,” Alchemy said. “It’s kind of hazy. I had to put together a few things.”

“Then spill,” Hain said. “Where are they going, and how do you know?”

“Because another worker overheard one of the cult members asking about incoming ships. Specifically, they wanted to know how many ships were coming in and what routes they usually followed. Combine that with the amount of fuel they took on, and there’s really only one place they could be going.” Blade had a feeling she already knew what it was.

“The Empire,” Alchemy finished, and Blade’s stomach fell. “They asked after the common trade routes, took enough fuel and food to make it well past the border, and then headed off towards the southeast.”

“Well … that’s unfortunate,” Hain said before any of them could say anything, his shoulders slumping. “I was worried that might be where he’d end up.”

Don’t you dare, Blade thought as she turned to look at the old griffon. Don’t say it.

“In light of that,” Hain said. “I’m afraid that I—”

Someone knocked on the bridge door, and Hain’s words shifted immediately. “—with the new food, we should be able to go a ways. Someone get that, would you?”

Blade nodded and stepped over to the door, noting the confused look that Alchemy was giving Hain. Tips and tricks, Alchemy, she thought as she slid the door open. One of the dock workers was standing there, eyeing her expectantly. If you just stop talking, sapients start paying attention. Switch what you’re saying to something bland, though … “Yes?” she asked as she looked down at the dockhoof.

“You’re ready to go whenever you want,” the dockhoof said, glancing past her at the rest of the bridge. “The envelope is good, and all the tanks have been topped off. Bill’s been settled too. The forecolt wanted me to remind you not to forget to pick your payment up before you left.”

“I … Can you bring it to us?” Blade asked, glancing back at the rest of the room. “Pick it up for us?” The dockhoof nodded.

“Okay, do that,” Blade said, giving him a quick nod in return. “We’ll be out of your hooves and on our way after that.” The pony nodded, turning away as she began to shut the door, but then she paused.

“Hold up a second,” she said. The stallion froze. “Can we get some maps, directions to the Griffon Empire? Good routes? Fast, if possible? I don’t know if we have any maps, and anything we can do to make our journey faster …”

“I’ll see what I can do,” the pony said with a nod before moving away.

“Right,” Blade said, sliding the door shut. That takes care of one potential problem. Now she just had to deal with another.

Hain was already rising as she turned to face the rest of the bridge. “Sit down,” she told him, fixing him with a stern glare.

“As I was saying,” he said, ignoring her order. “Seeing as we’re definitely heading to the Empire—”

“Hain …” she said, her tone warning. “Don’t you dare do it.”

“Do what?” Frost asked.

“Quit,” Alchemy said. “He’s an exile.”

“I’m sorry,” Hain said, shaking his head. “I really am.”

I can’t let him quit, Blade thought as she watched the old griffon square his shoulders and turn to face her. We need his tactical expertise and experience.

She’d been hoping that it wouldn’t come to this. That Anubis would be heading anywhere but her homeland. But since he was … There was only one thing she could try, one card she could play that would change his mind.

“I’m sorry,” Hain said, shaking his head, his expression long. “But as an exile, I can’t—”

“I invoke the right of command,” Blade said, and Hain’s words stopped.

“You what?” he asked, looking at her in surprise.

“You heard me,” she said, her heart beating in her chest. “I invoke the right of command.”

Hain’s eyes widened, his beak opening in shock. “Blade,” he said slowly. “You are aware—?”

“I am well aware,” she said, putting every bit of force into her voice that she could muster. “I’m invoking the right of command.”

“What’s the right of command?” Alchemy asked.

“An honor code,” Hain said, his eyes still fixed on her. “It means that the invoker takes full responsibility for their command’s actions, good or bad. It’s the part of a contract that means the one working under it can follow orders without fear of reprisal, as the responsibility is placed upon their commander.”

“Which means?” Alchemy asked.

“I’m an exile,” Hain said, his eyes still locked with hers and his words coming slowly, as if he didn’t believe she understood the full extent of what she’d just done. “Which means that I am never to return to the Empire, under the severest of penalties. What Blade’s just done is taken responsibility for that. So if we go into the Empire, and we’re caught, I’ll be set free. And Blade, as my commander, assumes the full penalty for my punishment.” His eyes narrowed as he looked at her.

“Which is death.”

“I invoke the right of command,” she said again, spreading her wings and digging her talons into the deck. “I accept full—”

“Blade,” Hain said, shaking his head ever so slightly from side to side. “You don’t have to do this. There are other commanders—”

“With your experience?” she asked, stepping forward in an almost slow, predatory crawl. “With your claws-on knowledge of who we’re hunting?” She came to a stop, her face just a scarce foot from his, her eyes still locked with his, searching their depths for any signs of hesitation. “We need you, Hain.”

“Death, Blade,” he said, his brown eyes staring back at her with equal ferocity. “If you’re going to go through with this, then I’ll follow. But they will kill you.”

“Only if they catch me,” she said, giving him a faint smirk at the words. “I’m on job just like you. Are you ready to follow it to the end?”

“I am,” he said, nodding.

“Then I invoke the right of command,” she said, a faint flame burning in her chest as she spoke. “Whatever punishments you face from here on out in pursuit of my orders, they fall to me in full responsibility, payment, and record. And I order you to accompany us to the Griffon Empire. Do you accept these orders?”

For a few moments the room was silent as they stared at one another, and then Hain nodded.

“I do,” he said, taking a step back. “And I’ll follow your orders ... commander.”

“Good,” she said, returning his nod. “Then it’s settled.” She looked over towards Alchemy and Frost. “Get the ship ready,” she said, turning towards the center of the bridge. “Fire the boilers up, and make sure we’re ready to go as quickly as possible. As soon as that dockhoof gets back with the charts I asked for, we’re going to plot the fastest course for the border possible.”

She took up position by the helm, looking at each member of the team one after the other; her shoulders square, fire burning in her chest. “Any questions?”

One by one they shook their heads. “Good,” she said. “Then let’s get moving and get this ship back in the air. If Anubis is heading for the Empire, then that’s where we’re going.”

“And one way or another, we’re going to stop him.”

* * *

“The engines are good, captain,” Frost said as she stepped onto the bridge. Blade was standing at the navigation desk, her back to the door as she and Hain poured over the charts they’d acquired at Spindle Rock. Both griffons looked up, Hain just to make casual eye contact, Blade to actually address her.

“Good to hear, Frost,” Blade said, glancing back down at the charts and marking a spot with one talon before looking back up at her. “But I’m not a captain. Or even the captain.”

Frost nodded and stepped onto the bridge. The helm was abandoned at the moment, the airship running on autopilot. Either Alchemy had stepped out, or Blade and Hain had assigned him to do something else. However, the skies outside the airship were clear, so it wasn’t likely to affect their journey unless something unexpected happened, and both griffons were on hoof should that occur.

“Commander, then,” she said, stopping a few feet away from the navigation desk and getting a slightly better view of the charts spread across its surface. She could see thick, heavy lines denoting the most common airstreams and travel routes, along with altitude annotations and other navigational information. She knew the basics of how to read them, though she’d always preferred the more grounded form of travel with her own ship.

“Just Blade is fine.”

“Very well,” Frost said, giving her a slight nod. “In any case, everything appears to be running smoothly. We should check on it more regularly than we have been, but other than that it should be sufficient for our needs.”

“We’ll see,” Blade said, turning back towards Hain. “We’re going to make this trip as fast as possible, so we’re definitely going to be pushing things a little.”

Frost nodded and opted to stay silent as the griffon ran her talons over the map, making a chain of connections from airstream to airstream. The route that was being outlined seemed to take them more eastward than she expected, and judging from Hain’s look, he was thinking the same way.

“That route runs out here,” he said, tapping at the chart. “It leaves a lot of dead air to cover from the middle of that territory, possibly without information. I doubt Anubis is going to take that route.”

“No, of course he won’t,” Blade said. “In all likelihood, he’ll take one of these three.” She ran one talon across the paper, marking three separate trade routes. “They’re the most direct.”

“Then why wouldn’t we take one of those?” Hain asked. Frost nodded in agreement, it was a valid question.

“Because we’re not going to catch up to him regardless,” Blade said, looking up at Hain. “He’s in a faster ship, and no matter how fast we get to the Empire, he’s going to have a several day head start on us.”

“So?” Frost asked.

“So we need an alternative,” Blade said, tapping the map once more. “And one thing these charts don’t show is the rail network. Which is …?” She let the words hang in the air.

“Much faster than most airships,” Hain said, nodding. “I see your point.”

A train, huh? Frost thought, eyeing the chart. Interesting. She’d never actually been on a train before. I wonder what that’s like? Barnabas had told her about them.

A bolt of ice shot through her chest at the thought of her brother, a hollow, painful void exploding inside her like a shattered mirror. She stiffened, her lips tightening as she forced the emotions down; refused to let any of them reach the surface.

Your talent is ice, Frost, she told herself as the hollow void in her heart began to subside. You can freeze this too. There was a time and a place to grieve. On the bridge of an airship, in public view, was not the place.

“Frost?” The voice pulled her away from her thoughts, focusing her attention outward. Blade was looking at her, an expression of concern on her face. “You okay?”

She pulled in a breath. “Just thinking,” she said. “I’ve never been on a train before.”

“Right,” Blade said, nodding, though there was a sceptical look in her eyes, like she didn’t quite believe her. “Well, I promise that we’ll try our best to not have to hijack this one. Then you’ll at least get the normal experience.”

“That still doesn’t answer my question,” Hain said. “Traveling fast is one thing, but we need to know where he’s going.”

“That part’s easy,” Blade said, tapping the map. “The border guard will pick up anyone attempting to cross into Empire airspace and fill out a travel invoice. For something like an airship, that’s hard to miss. All we’ll need to do is contact someone that will have access to that information, and we’ll have a rough estimation of their route.”

“And what’s to stop them from lying?” Frost asked. “It doesn’t seem like they’d have any reason to hold to whatever plan they laid out.”

Blade let out a laugh. “That might fly on the Ocean,” she said, smirking as she looked at her. “But not in the Empire. If you’re intruding on clan territory, not to mention the Empire’s, and you deviate from what’s expected, you get an inquiry. A military inquiry.”

“And that’d stop Anubis?”

Blade grinned. “Trust me. Even if he can scare away ships like he did back at the Vault, he’s not going to be able to scare away as many ships as we’ve got.”

“So then why don’t we just tell them where he is and let the Empire handle it?”

“Politics,” Hain said. “If the Empire opened fire on an airship just for containing an immortal, well … They can’t do that.”

“He murdered my brother,” Frost said. She could feel her talent surging as she spoke the words, a chill running down her back and across her sides.

“In a lawless territory that the Empire has no jurisdiction nor extradition agreements with,” Hain said, his face impassive. “As long as Anubis respects the laws of clans and the Empire, the Empire will respect his actions inside its borders.”

“But ...” She wanted to lash out. The cold, icy feeling in her chest was so cool it burned now, a chilling fire that begged for release.

“And we can’t simply go to the authorities with our story,” Blade cut in. “Obviously, Hain’s a bit of a problem there, and even if we could convince them he was up to no good, he could just go underground anyway.”

She seized at the lifeline. “Won’t he do that anyway?”

“Only if he ditches his ship,” Blade said. “And to do that, he needs to go someplace first. If he does it along the way, the Empire will start looking for him, and I’m sure whatever he has planned probably won’t work as well with an official investigation looking into things.”

“There are always rules,” Hain said. “Especially in the Empire. On the one talon, this means that we have to play within them. Well, as close as we can unless we want trouble. On the other …”

“Anubis is limited as well,” Frost said, forcing the cold burning in her chest to subside. “Very well. Do you need me for anything else at the moment?”

“Well, no,” Blade said, her eyes widening in surprise, probably in surprise at the sudden shift in tone. “But if you want to stick around and help plan—”

She shook her head. “No thank you. This lies outside the realm of my experience. I would prefer to return to my quarters and continue working on one of my new spells.” She took a small step backwards and gave the pair of griffons a quick tilt of her head.

“Well,” Blade said, her eyes darting towards Hain. “All right. Good luck, or whatever you need. Just don’t forget to check the mechanicals every few hours.”

“I won’t.” She gave them both another quick nod before turning and trotting off the bridge. Behind her, she could hear their voices pick up again, though about what she wasn’t certain. Maybe they were discussing more of their plans concerning what to do when they reached the Empire.

Or maybe they’re discussing you, some part of her suggested as she made her way down to the lower levels of the airship. Your brother isn’t around anymore to take the edge off, you know. The thought stung, but she knew it was true. Barns had always been better with others. Much better. He could talk to them, joke with them … He knew—no, had known—how to deal with sapients.

You, on the other hoof, don’t. She crossed through the galley and into the ship’s main hallway, a narrow, brightly lit affair that offered access to both the crew quarters, head, and the boiler room at the rear of the ship. And where does that leave you?

She slid the door to her small room open and stepped inside, thankful that she hadn’t run into Alchemy along the way. She could feel the ice-cold mask she’d clamped down on her emotions starting to crack, jagged lines carving their way through her heart. A twitch from her horn shut the door, and she sank to the ground, her body shaking as the wall she’d built broke once again.

What are you going to do? she thought, hot tears breaking free from the corners of her eyes and spilling down her face. Her sobs were silent, heaving. No one else would hear them. Especially not this close to the distant steam-fed rumble of the ship’s mechanicals. Barns is gone.

Barns. Aeliana. Her parents. One by one plucked from her life like a dust-filled chunk of ice from the ocean. Barns had always been the one to sweeten the deals. He’d always been there to make sure she had what she needed.

All I had to do was pay the cult back for taking Aeliana and my parents from us. Barns had handled everything else.

Now he was gone. Dead. Just like everyone else she’d ever been close to. And all because of one unicorn.

Sagis. She squeezed her eyes shut as the image of the red unicorn flashed across her mind. He’d been the one to order the purge of Greyhost. He’d been the one who’d killed Aeliana. And he’d been the one who had released the immortal who’d killed her brother.

Something cracked and her eyes snapped open. A thin sheet of ice was forming across the wooden floor, spreading out from beneath where her body was lying. She shook her head and focused, pulling the ice back in and bringing it together into one small, solitary piece. Another moment’s thought and it reshaped itself, the ice melting and coming back together in a reasonable facsimile of Sagis. She set it down on the ground, the purple glow around her horn winking out. Then she stood, and with one swift moment brought her hoof down on top of the small sculpture. The resulting crack, followed by the sound of the pieces scattering across her small berth, felt good … in a grim sort of way.

But the feeling vanished all too quickly, replaced by the void of emptiness that had been howling inside of her ever since her brother had died. She sank to the deck again, eyeing the scattered bits of ice spread across the floor. She’d have to dispose of them before they melted into the wood.

Someone knocked at her door and she jerked, her entire body locking at the intrusion. She forced herself to calm, shut her eyes as she told her body to relax, and cleared her throat.

“Yes?” she called out. Hopefully her voice didn’t sound out of place.

“Frost?” She recognized the voice. It was Alchemy. “I heard something odd. Are you alright? Did something break?”

“I’m fine,” she said. It wasn’t a lie, exactly. The question hadn’t been directed toward her emotional state, surely. “Just working with ice.”

“Oh, okay.” She frowned. It was hard to judge emotions through a door. “Should I be worried?”

Yes, she thought, but again not quite in relation to what he’d been asking about. “No,” she said, shaking her head. “You’ll probably hear more of them.” Especially if I start working on something useful rather than sitting here feeling sorry for myself. “Nothing to worry about.”

There was no response, and for a moment she wondered if he’d simply take her at her word and wandered off without comment. Then his voice rang through the door.

“All right,” he said, though there was a hesitation in the way he said it, like he didn’t believe her. That was fine. She didn’t believe herself either. “Well, I need to get back to the helm.” There was a shuffling sound outside the door, as if somepony had started to walk away but then caught himself. “And Frost?” he said.

“Yes?” The response came out harsher than she meant, and she twitched her ears in irritation. Don’t.

“Look … I … About your brother …” His words died off for a moment, his voice trailing. Then they came back in force. “He was a good friend. To everyone. If you ever want to talk about it … I mean, I know I was being trained as a shaman, but even past that, if you ever want to talk about him, well … I’d be all right with that.”

“Noted,” she said, wincing as the harsh response left her lips. Was she really so callous? “I mean …” A cough as she cleared her throat. “I understand.”

“Okay,” Alchemy said. “Good luck with your practice.”

She stayed silent as he wandered away, her pain momentarily forgotten but still present as his hoofsteps slowly faded.

His heart is in the right place, she thought, putting her back towards the door once more. And where’s yours? She didn’t want to think of an answer.

She lit her horn, closing her eyes and focusing her emotions, trying to settle them to a calm as she summoned magic from within her. A calm mind, a steady emotional state … those were key to using magic. Emotions could have … unforeseen effects. Possibly dangerous ones. It was one of the reasons the cult used so much anger and fear in their own magics—to fuel them.

She wouldn’t be one of them. She had to keep tight control, keep her emotions from leaking into her magic. She needed to be strong.

She felt her magic come together, swirling around her side, but already she could feel that something was wrong. Too much of her emotion had gotten mixed into it. The delicate, crystalline shape of the ice, normally so clear and precise inside her mind, was twisting, breaking. She opened her eyes, looking back at her flank as she let the magic dissipate. The goal had been to produce an enhanced version of her ice armor, one with a reactionary element similar to her splintering arrows.

The result was something that couldn’t even have been considered ordinary armor. It was murky, riddled with light and dark patches where the hardness was inconsistent. It was worthless. She kicked it away with her hoof, scowling as it slid across the deck.

It was no use. Her emotions were too volatile at the moment. I need to calm. I need to collect my thoughts. I need to … She closed her eyes once more. Barnabas … What am I going to do without you?

More tears came, though this time the sobs weren’t quite as silent. The only comfort she could find in the sound was that there was no one around to hear it.

She wasn’t sure how long she laid there, her cheeks growing wet as she buried her head in her hooves. She wanted her brother back. She wanted to hear him laugh again. To hear him chide her for her hard-edged approach to things. To hear him shout at the children in Cragtooth Heights.

He wasn’t coming back.

Her parents. Aeliana. And now him. It wasn’t fair. Everyone she’d known. Barnabas had told her once that death wasn’t the end, that he knew he’d be able to laugh with Aeliana again. Frost wasn’t sure she believed it.

But right now, she really wanted to. Otherwise, what did she have to look forward to?

She lifted her head from the deck, eyeing the wet marks her tears had made on the wood. The bits of ice she’d made earlier were slowly spreading into a puddle, and she lifted them without a thought, refreezing them once more and leaving water-stained marks on the deck, shadows to her own creations.

Her eyes drifted over to her bags, thrown across one of the room’s two berths, and she focused in on a single pocket. A slight twitch of her horn, and it opened, a single sheet of paper sliding out. She lifted it, unfolded it, and began to read the long, flowing script written along its surface.

Frost, the letter read. You probably don’t want to know how many of these I’ve written over the years. Every time I wondered if one of us wasn’t going to make it, every time things looked bad, I’ve had one of these in my pocket or in my gear, waiting for you to find it. Maybe it’s just because I can’t find the strength to say the things that I need to say, or maybe it’s because I worry.

That’s right, I worry about you, sis. I always have, even when you were little and it was just Aeliana and I doing our best to help a scared, scattered little filly who learned about the dark side of the world long before she ever should have been exposed to it.

But I worry about you now, too, Frost. It seems like every day you get harder and harder, and I’ll admit, it scares me because I don’t know what to do about it. Aeliana might have known what to do, but she’s not here anymore, and I worry that if I go to join her, you’ll be lost and on your own. If you aren’t already—sometimes it’s hard to tell, and that scares me.

I always tried to be the best brother I could for you, Frost. I tried to do what I could in my own way. I only wanted the best of life for both of us, which is why I’m writing this now. If you’re reading this, then that means that I’m dead. Maybe a cultist got lucky, or maybe I just slipped up and did something foolish that I shouldn’t have done. But whatever the reason, it means I’m no longer around to help you.

And I’m sorry. Believe me, Frost, I’m sorry. If I’m gone, know that I miss you, and I love you as strongly as anyone ever could, and I’m sorry that I’m not there anymore.

If I’m gone though, then I have something I need to say. One last bit of brotherly advice that I’m only telling you because I love you.

Stop. Leave the Ocean. Forget about the cult. Don’t let revenge for what they did to your parents, and to Aeliana, and probably to me become the fixation of your life. I love you, Frost, but there’s more to you than being a killer. There’s a life past the borders of the Ocean. A life past piracy.

I know you always let me handle the money we made on jobs, and it’s about time I told you what I did with it. Most of it, we spent—running the Arrow wasn’t cheap. But some of it, I saved. I bought bonds. Stocks. Investments. It’s not much, but it’s enough. Go to Equestria, to the capital, Canterlot. There’s a pony there named Steady Notes, with a cutie-mark in investments. Give him your name.

Then never go back to the Ocean, Frost. Promise me you won’t go back and continue to throw your life away. I know hearing me say that probably hurts, but it needs to be said. You’ve got talent and beauty, but also kindness and warmth buried under that ice-cold exterior of yours, and I don’t want to see that snuffed out, even if I only glimpse it from beyond.

Make something better of yourself, Frost. Find a way out. Don’t let that little filly I knew all those years ago vanish beneath a wall of ice you carved yourself.

I love you, Frost.

Your older brother, Barns.

The page was smudged, some of the ink splotched where someone had cried on it, and she knew not all of the tears had come from her the first time she’d read it.

You always did have a big heart, Barns, she thought, sniffling and wiping her eyes with a hoof. You always were better than this lousy Ocean ever was.

Although, there was one last bit to his final note, a hastily scrawled line across the bottom of the page. She eyed it, though she already knew it—and most of the rest of the letter—by heart.

One last request though, before you do anything else, sis. Kill the bandersnatch that got me, will you?

She sniffled again as she folded the letter, her eyes blurring over with tears. Her voice was wispy as she spoke, but it echoed through the room.

“I promise, Barns. I promise.”

Count of Laws Broken: 0
Total Laws Broken: 69
Damage Value (In Bits): 0
Total Damage Value (In Bits): 390,941

Chapter 22 - Patience and Ambition

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Somewhere just past the borders of the Griffon Empire

Sagis watched as the bridge crew hurried about their tasks, each of them staring intently down at their controls with a single-minded determination. Gone were the proud backs, the squared shoulders, the raised horns all aligned in unison. In their places he saw hunched forms, fearful eyes, and quivering expressions.

What have we degraded ourselves to? the looks in their eyes asked. Have we been so completely broken beneath the heel of an inferior being? He still refused to think of the immortal currently occupying what had been his quarters as a superior creature.

We are unicorns! We are the strong! He felt a flame of determination welling inside him, and he lifted his head, letting his chest stick out as he held his horn high. A few of the bridge crew looked at him, their eyes drawn by the movement, and then they turned back to their instruments with nary a sign of bolstered fortitude. One of them even had the audacity to roll his eyes.

Impudent whelp, Sagis thought as the crew continued their operations around him. I should have him beaten. Punished for his audacity. Yes, a good punishment would be fine event. It would serve to remind the rest of the crew whose orders they truly followed, inspire them to ignore the ugly rumors that had begun to swirl in the wake of the awakening at the Vault. Rumors that he, Lord Sagis himself, was a traitor. That he cared for little more than power, and nothing for the superiority of the unicorn race. That he’d aspired to use King Sombra as little more than a pawn in his own plots.

He scoffed, the action once again drawing nearby looks. Couldn’t the fools see that he’d merely said what needed to be said, what he’d needed to say to placate an immortal being who—at the moment—had held the superior ground?

But no. They were weak. They didn’t believe in him. Didn’t believe in the cause. They believed in Anubis.

He sneered as he thought of the demigod, reclining in the splendor of the quarters he’d commandeered upon claiming the vessel. How dare his followers put their faith in that … jackal-thing. It was almost a mockery of the Order he’d forged.

It was the fear, he decided. The constant, needling fear. The immortal seemed to exude it, spreading it everywhere. Even now, he could feel the faint pressure of it pushing on his mind, like a slow, steady wind bracing itself against the entire airship. He’d resisted so far, working his magic from time to time to block the demigod’s own, but it seemed to adapt, to change. To morph its shape like water through a dam, pressing past whatever mental defenses he put up, to press on his soul like a dark tide. Not a tide high enough to drown, mind. But one that wet the hooves, hung inches away from the belly, lapping back and forth with almost taunting ease.

The fear was definitely getting to the crew. Many of them were quiet, some almost non-responsive. Sometimes he would hear distant screams echoing from the bunks.

Still, there was hope. Some of the mages were resisting, like he was. Some of them were holding back, proving themselves as true devotees of the Order. Anubis had promised that once they reached their destination, he would release the field, and Sagis had seen how the crew had responded to it. If he could claim responsibility—

“Sir?”

He turned. One of the few remaining chosen, a sniveling coward named Solar Spike, was standing next to him, his eyes wide and bloodshot. Anubis had been using the worm as a front since he’d come on board, dispatching him like his own personal vassal. Sagis wasn’t sure if it was because he valued the little wretch or if it was because the pony had lost his spine long ago.

“What?” he asked, taking a sense of satisfaction as the chosen flinched back. Coward, he thought. You’re everything that’s wrong with the situation we’re in. You cower and submit when you should be serving your own kind.

“It’s Lord Anubis,” Solar said, still cowering. His eyes were nervous, darting to corners of the room like he expected something to jump out and strike at him.

“What about him?” Sagis asked, refusing to call him lord. Outside of his presence, at least. Inside, he’d have to make exceptions.

“He’s requested your presence, sir.”

“Very well,” Sagis gave the sniveling Solar a quick nod, hiding his disgust at the way the chosen flinched back. This will not do, he thought.

“Chosen Solar,” he said, his voice calm. Solar’s eyes turned up towards him.

“Yes … sir?” The voice was mewling, almost silent.

“Report to Doctor Cell.” The reaction was almost immediate. The chosen’s eyes went wide, a look of sheer horror growing across his face. Sagis could have sighed, but he reminded himself that it was the fear that was driving the look, not the rational.

“Not for experimentation,” he said, trying not to let his feelings of disdain show. “Tell him that I sent you. You look tired, overworked. Ask him to sedate you so that you can sleep for a few hours.”

“I … Thank you, but—”

“And tell another chosen to attend to our guest for a while,” Sagis said. He began to reach out to rest his hoof on the colt’s shoulder, but the unicorn flinched back, so he stopped, instead leaving his hoof hanging in the air and then lowering it. “That’s an order, chosen.”

“I …” Solar nodded, swallowing. “Yes, Lord Sagis.”

That’s better, Sagis thought as the unicorn turned and wandered off, though the youth still kept his distance from the rest of the bridge crew. Not by much, but at least he remembered to pay me the respect my station was due. Which he couldn’t say for some of the unicorns currently in his command. At some point, those unicorns would need to be identified and … dealt with.

He left the bridge, his hoofsteps muffled by the luxurious carpet that patterned the hallways. It had cost quite a bit of money to afford the delicate patterns, and some would have—and had—considered it a waste of bits to pattern a simple airship hall with such extravagant designs.

But they were unicorns. The prime species. They deserved the ordinary to be extravagant, the simple to be luxurious. He smiled as the shuffling sound of his hooves filled the air around him. Yes, they did. It was their right to have the best, to mete out from what remained to those weaker beings who deserved it.

It’s our right to decide, he thought as he neared the stairway that led up to what had been—and would be once more—his quarters. We are the superior race. We are the powerful ones. It’s our right to decide for the other races what they deserve and where they stand beneath us. The statement was one of the old creeds, little changed since he’d come into power. Let the younger, more naive members of the cult believe that it was their place to shepherd the lesser races of this world. He knew what the real moral was.

Power.

He paused for a moment outside the door to his old quarters, staring at the door while trying to decide whether or not he should knock. After a moment he shook his head. The less weakness he showed, the better. He reached out with his magic and tugged the door open.

“Lord Anubis,” he said as he walked into his old chambers, his voice resonating with what he hoped was just enough deference to keep the immortal happy. “You requested my presence?”

His old quarters were well-lit, multiple, bright magilights positioned in optimum emplacements around the ceiling to bathe the entire room in a comforting glow. The rear wall was made entirely of sloped, thick, heavy panes of glass, a design that would have given the entire room a grand view of the surrounding air had not they been covered with shade material—likely to keep the room’s occupant hidden. The signs of luxury and taste were everywhere. Sculptures of famous unicorns. Ornate woodwork. Even the massive, heavy desk that filled the center of the room was made of a rare wood not found outside of one of the eastern deserts he could never remember the name of. There were even rare paintings on the walls, each picked by him personally as their creators had been members of the unicorn race.

Or at least, that had been what it had looked like the last time he had seen it. Now the paintings were gone, several of them hanging at odd angles and showing a number of holes, as if somepony—or someone—had been playing darts with them. The sculptures he’d patiently spent a decade collecting were sitting in a corner, forgotten. Even the doors to both his personal bedroom and personal bath were open, and he could see that neither of them had been left intact either.

And there, behind his desk, sat the individual responsible for all of it. He was relaxed, leaning back in his seat as he spun his long, metal staff in one hand, but even then the large desk still looked too low, his knees just barely level with the top edge. He was still wearing the golden armor on his shins, forearms, and hands, along with the strange, white-gold head covering that Sagis had privately taken to thinking of as a “metal mane.” The rest of the immortal’s body was bare save for the small cloth worn around the waist, a multilayered, carefully wrapped piece of whitish fabric that gave its wearer freedom to move while still providing a modest covering.

Black and grey fur. Tight, almost impossibly defined muscle structure. Long, thin ears that stood straight upwards. A mouth full of sharp, dangerous, canine teeth.

Anubis. The immortal.

And he was grinning.

“Sagis,” Anubis said, not even bothering to look at him as he walked up. The demigod’s eyes were fixed on his spinning staff, tracking it as his fingers brought it sweeping back and forth in quick, complex patterns. “I expect that we passed the border inspection well enough?”

Expect, not assume. There was a dangerous difference in those two words. “Of course,” he said, withholding a nod.

“Of course?” Anubis repeated, one eyebrow lifting as he glanced in his direction. “Of course what?”

“Of course, Lord Anubis,” Sagis said, fighting to keep his face straight as he forced the words out. Anubis grinned, his staff coming to a sudden halt, cracking against his palm.

“Not bad, Sagis,” he said, pointing his staff at him. “You might be able to pull this off after all. Of course,” he said, his voice taking on a dangerous tone as he leaned forward, one corner of his mouth turning upwards in a smirk. “In order to do that, you’re going to have to learn a whole lot of patience.”

“I’m … what?” Sagis asked, pulling back slightly as the smirk became a smile. A dangerous, predatory smile. “I’m sorry?”

Anubis laughed. “Come on, Sagis. Don’t play games with me. I’ve had a lot of time to play games. I know games. You’re chafing under all of this, Sagis. You want power, after all, and right now you’re in a position without the power you crave.”

“I …” He backed up slightly, his mind racing. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean.”

The smile dropped from Anubis’s face. “Don’t lie to me, Sagis. I don’t particularly have anything against the practice half the time, but when you lie to me, and it’s a very obvious lie, I start wondering if perhaps I might be wasting my time keeping you around. Don’t get me wrong, if someone’s going to lie to me and do it well, that’s different. But you?” He waved a hand. “I’m sorry, but you’re not really that good at it. Not to me, anyway.”

Sagis shook his head. Now he really was confused. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

“Figures,” Anubis said, leaning back into his seat and dropping a hand below the desk. “I’m talking about patience, Sagis. Patience. You and I? We’re playing a game right now. A game where I’m the one who’s in charge, and you’re the one who wants to be in charge. And like most who are untrained at the game, you don’t value patience. For example …” He brought his arm up from behind the desk, something clutched in his hand.

Sagis’s eyes widened. It was, or had been, one of the few remaining shadows left aboard after the debacle at the vault. Her body was limp, hanging by the neck from the immortal’s hand, her jaw slack with the tongue hanging out, and he could very clearly see her misted-over eyes. She was dead.

Anubis tossed the body forward, and it hit the edge of the desk with a thump before sliding off the end and landing on the carpet at Sagis’s hooves. “Really, Sagis?” he asked. “A single shadow? That’s it? I’m almost insulted.”

Sagis reached out and prodded the mare, watching as her head rolled back at an odd angle. Her neck had been broken.

He knew who she was. Dill, a shadow mare who’d continually insisted that everypony call her Dagger instead. She’d become a shadow partially to warn others to stop using her name. She’d been fiercely devoted to the cause of King Sombra, which was why he’d had her stationed at the vault.

She’d also been one of the cultists he’d spoken to about his plans to deal with Anubis. Plans which should not have been acted on so early. Then again, she always had been a bit reckless.

And now she was dead.

“So,” Anubis said. There was a smile on his face, but his eyes were cold and calculating. “Care to explain yourself?”

Sagis sat back, trying to look calm as his mind raced. “I can only offer apologies, my lord,” he said, shaking his head. “She must not have been as devoted a follower as I thought, to strike at you like that.” Especially when I told her to wait! If I could have found more who thought like her …

Anubis shook his head, still smiling. “Well, your answer wasn’t that off, so at least you’ve got skill there.”

“I’m sorry?” What are you playing at?

“Look, Sagis,” Anubis said, rising from his seat and looking down at him. “I know you knew about this. Even if you didn’t order her to try—and if you did, I’m almost insulted—I know that you’re looking for a way to take back over. You want power. You just need to learn patience. Real patience.” He turned and strode away from the desk, over to the curtained windows. “Being patient is an important part of any plan.”

The room went silent, and Anubis reached out, one hand idly pulling aside some of the cloth over the windows. Then he spoke.

“You see, Sagis, you’ve got talent,” he said, dropping the cloth and turning. “But you’re facing me. And that means you need to be a little more careful when setting up your plans. Otherwise …” His hand snapped out, the fingers pressed together and the palm extended. With a heavy snap, his staff leapt from the surface of the desk and into his outstretched hand, a curving, transparent-blue blade jumping out of both ends. “I might have to find a more capable servant.”

There was no point in hiding it. Apparently, the immortal already knew. And he didn’t seem to care. Which meant … what?

“I’m afraid I am unsure of what you’re getting at,” Sagis said, choosing his words carefully. “What do you mean?”

Anubis smiled. “Then why don’t I tell you a little story? Do you know how I ended up locked in that vault all the way at the top of the world? Why I was there? Or what I’m doing now?”

“No, Lord Anubis.”

“Please,” the immortal said, waving a hand. “Just Anubis when we’re in private like this. Ordinarily when I’m dealing with fawning admiration I’m okay with it, but since we both know where we stand, why don’t you drop the pretense while we’re in here, okay?”

“Then no, Anubis.” The immortal’s dialogue had changed since he’d been released. He seemed to be getting more and more relaxed, more casual with each encounter. Was he just slipping back towards the way he’d always sounded? Or had he picked up the words from his scans?

Anubis chuckled. “See, wasn’t that easier? And you’re admitting something there. First, that you’re not enjoying this arrangement that we’ve entered into, and second, that you’re trying to do something about that without even knowing what I’m up to.” He shook his head, twirling his staff in the air. “See? Patience. What if that minion of yours had actually succeeded? You’d have no idea what my plans were, what riches laid at the end. So why don’t I give you a little educational explanation? Why was I locked away in that vault, Sagis?”

“I do not know,” Sagis admitted. “I would assume that you were there because someone sealed you—”

“Wrong!” Sagis jerked back as Anubis’s voice echoed through the room. “And therein lies the message. I wasn’t there because someone sealed me there. I was there because someone thought they sealed me away.”

“I …” Sagis tried to make sense of what the jackal was saying. “I don’t understand.”

“Then I’ll explain it,” Anubis said, walking back across the room and dropping into his seat. “You see, I’ve been around a long time. Around thirty-five hundred years, give or take a few decades. And one of the most important things I’ve learned in that time is patience. Are you familiar with the history of the immortals?”

“Not really,” Sagis admitted. “A little, but no more.”

“I didn’t think so,” Anubis said. “Well, let me put it this way: Back in the day, we were all going our own way and doing our own thing. Reus was the first of us to realize that the Creator was never coming back, that all of us were just wasting our time waiting and doing what we were ‘supposed’ to do, and that we’d be better off serving our own interests. There was no point in serving a Creator’s wishes if they weren’t ever coming back, right? After all, it’s not like they were ever as perfect as they claimed. Discord happened, didn’t he?”

“Anyway, so we were doing our own things with you mortals, because really, what else is there to do when surrounded by a bunch of short lived inferiors like you happen to be?” he asked, pointing his staff at Sagis. “So while the world moved on, we did what we wanted. Some of us became rulers, as was our place as the truly superior being—a logic you seem to understand in a way.”

“But there were some who disagreed. Some who clung to their loyalty to the creator. Like those pathetic, self-righteous pony sisters. We underestimated them at first; all of us did. We were busy. We had nations to command. Mortals to conquer. None of us thought they’d get in our way.”

He slammed the butt end of his staff against the floor. “But no, they had to mess with our fun, our right.” There wasn’t any venom to the words, but it was clear he was displeased. ‘We’d barely gotten started when they started coming for us, one by one.” He looked up at Sagis. “You with me so far?”

Sagis nodded. So far it sounded familiar enough with what he’d read of the old texts. The revolt of the immortals, the chaos that followed as each of them either vanished or set out to make themselves rulers.

“Good,” Anubis said. “I hate to tell the same story twice. It gets boring.” He shook his head. “Anyway, things happened. I was laying low, working on a project—a big one—after the Plainslands had wiped out the last of my jackals. And I’d finished it, or the most important parts. You see, I was playing it smart, keeping my head down while Sun-butt and Moon-butt went after my more impatient brothers and sisters. Except ...” His eyes widened slightly in ancient surprise. “They were a little faster at it than I expected. When Itzpapalotl went down, I knew I’d be next.”

“And that’s how you ended up in that vault?” Sagis asked, his mind dancing with visions of similar vaults all over the world, each with an ancient immortal sealed inside it by the pony sisters. “Is that what those two did to every one of their foes?”

“Patience,” Anubis growled. “I’m telling a story here. And no, they didn’t seal Itzpapalotl anywhere. They killed her, though they claimed they were loath to do it.”

Sagis pulled back in surprise. He knew the two rulers of Equestria were betrayers to the race they’d been assigned to protect, with their refusal to admit that the unicorns were the superior species, but to kill to defeat a foe? It sounded so unlike them.

Then again, he reminded himself. Didn’t they attempt to kill King Sombra? Perhaps there were limits to their generosity.

“Thing is, I knew I couldn’t beat the two head to head,” Anubis said. “My skill—despite my physical prowess—is in my mind. I had to outthink them. And my plan, what I was working on after my jackals proved to be less than useful, needed time. Time to come together, and time I didn’t have. Unless I really thought ahead.” He leaned forward. “Unless I was patient,” he said, his voice low and slow.

“So I took the followers I had left and split them up,” he said. “Some came with me, off into the distant north, to the wasteland you call the Ocean, while the rest left with my instructions. And I built the Vault myself, letting word slip that it was intended to be a prison for the two pony sisters, a subspace trap from which they’d never get out. Then …” He paused and grinned. “Then, when they came to defeat me, I allowed myself to be ‘tricked’ into being sealed inside it instead.”

Sagis felt his eyes open wide. “You what?” he asked, disbelieving.

“I let them seal me inside,” Anubis said, his smile cold. “They believed that the Vault was supposed to be a prison for them, when in fact, it was nothing more than my own personal hiding spot. What better way to hide and convince others I was no longer a threat than to convince those who would have destroyed me that I was such?”

“But …” Sagis shook his head. “The key! Someone would have needed the key to let you out?”

“And they took it,” Anubis said, nodding. “The illusion of security. I knew that eventually, be it in a thousand years or ten thousand, someone would find the key and curiosity would win out. I was content to wait, to let the world think I was gone while simply biding my time.”

“But …”

“That, Sagis, is patience,” Anubis said, rising and leaning across the desk. “The shrewdness to wait until the right moment. And while Celestia and Luna turned their attention elsewhere, my followers completed their own task, fulfilling the last parts of my plan elsewhere.”

“Where?” Sagis asked. Anubis smiled.

“You’re learning,” he said. “But to be honest, I don’t actually know. That was part of the plan, you see? I couldn’t know where it was, or there was a chance those two sisters would have learned of it. We split ways long before I even built the Vault.”

“The other key,”Sagis said, the connection forming in his mind. “They had the third piece.”

“No,” Anubis said. “But it doesn’t matter. The keys are mine, and they will come when I want them too. But, now do you see?” he asked as he rose. “Patience, Sagis. Patience to suffer defeat, to spend almost two-thousand years patiently waiting inside a dimensional pocket with the world believing me gone—save my followers, who would finish laying the foundation of my ultimate plan in secret, so that all would be ready when I returned.”

Sagis could feel a tendril of fear snaking through him now as the immortal looked down at him. It wasn’t unnatural fear either, something from the demigod’s staff. This was real fear, fear at the audacity of a being who would willingly wait a thousand years to enact his master plan.

“So,” Anubis continued, his voice growing hard as his eyes narrowed. “When I see pathetic attempts like this—” He waved his hand at Dill’s body, “—I get displeased. Almost insulted. I don’t care if you’re going behind my back, Sagis. In fact,” he said, leaning in close, his sharp teeth inches away from Sagis’s muzzle as he hissed through them. “I expect it. But if I find that you continue to waste my time with pathetic attempts such as this, well …”

He rapped his staff against the deck once more, a grey mist seeping its way free of the base and crawling up Sagis’s legs. Sagis tried not to shake as the immortal’s dark eyes burned into his own, the purple irises colder than anything he’d ever seen on the Ocean.

“I’ll break you,” Anubis said. Then he pulled away, a smile once again on his face. “Am I clear?”

“I … yes, Anubis,” he said, nodding. The message had been clear. Rise to the occasion … or fall. Hard. Even in betrayal.

“Good,” Anubis said, sitting once more. “Now that we’re on the same page, as the saying goes, let’s talk of other things. For instance, how we’re going to find my master plan.” He smiled. “It’s out there somewhere, waiting for me. My grand plan.” A chill ran down Sagis’s spine.

“My city of the dead.”

Chapter 23 - Homecoming

View Online

Northwest of the Talmoss Mountains—The Northern Border of the Griffon Empire

“Here they come,” Blade said, her eyes fixed on the trio of distant dots that were moving closer and closer to the airship. She lifted the binoculars again, the dots magnifying themselves with startling clarity and resolving into three lightly armored griffons, flying in a standard arrowhead formation. “You might as well start slowing us down.”

“Got it,” Alchemy said. The faint rumble of the Onset’s propellers shifted as he decreased the throttle.

“Don’t stop us,” Blade said. “Just slow us down a bit. We might as well make up what little distance we can. Plus, that’ll give them less distance to fly.” She took a quick look at the trio of griffons once more, her eyes straining to pick out the emblems on their armor. No such luck. They were still too far away for the small clan symbols—usually by the left shoulder or chest—to be visible. Odds were that this close to the Talmoss range they were from the Windrunner clan, but there was still a chance that they were guards on loan from another, further clan. Not that it really mattered either way in the end, but guards from her own clan would be much more likely to recognize her.

The sound of hoofsteps echoed down the hall and Frost walked onto the bridge, her demeanor as cool as ever. “Hain is hidden,” she said as she came to a stop nearby.

“Well?” Blade asked.

The mare nodded. “In order to find him, they’d need to reorganize a number of the leftover munitions that we weren’t able to sell. I doubt they’ll be that interested, especially since we aren’t carrying much in the way of cargo.”

“Good. And the rearward ballistas are stowed?”

Frost nodded again. “Yes. Both have been broken down and stored in clear, non-threatening positions. It should be clear from any angle of approach that either are unusable.”

“Perfect,” Blade said, lifting the glasses once more. The trio was drawing closer now, their color distribution clearer against the sky than they had been a minute ago. Two of them were tan colored, while the third was a mix of white and black. Exotic, Blade thought as she ran her eyes over the long, tufted tail. I definitely never met them when I lived here. Maybe they were from one of the border towns on the outskirts of the Windrunner territory.

She panned the glasses over the horizon, her eyes taking in the familiar sight of rolling hill after rolling hill enveloped in thick clusters of pine trees. There were still bare patches beneath them, wide open spaces devoid of trees, but even those were clad in green, bushes and all manner of fauna growing in them. It was a welcome, familiar change after the weeks of grey-and-white ice.

And the groaning was gone. Frost had commented on it almost immediately as they’d moved away from the Ocean, as if suddenly realizing that the monotonous noise she’d spent her entire life hearing was now fading away. She’d looked alarmed, but to Blade the fading of the endless grind had felt almost like being able to breathe after holding her breath for a long time, or realizing that a distant headache had faded.

Give me the sound of wind in the skies anytime, she thought as she lifted the glasses again. The guards were almost on them, close enough now that she could pick out details with binoculars. She caught sight of the three green marks above an inverted V—the mark of her own clan. Good. That meant they’d probably make this pretty easy.

I wonder how the Order hid Anubis? She lowered the glasses and looked down towards Alchemy. “Better bring us to a stop,” she said. “This is far enough.”

“Right.” The hum of the propellers shifted again, the Onset slowing even further. The trio of griffons appeared to hear the change of pitch, their wings speeding up as they flew towards the airship.

“Well,” Blade said, rising from her seat. “I guess we’d better go say hello.”

By the time she reached the back deck, the trio of griffons were hanging off the port side, waiting at a respectable distance and watching. Unlike the griffons from Teardrop, there wasn’t an immediate feeling of suspicious hostility to their gazes, but rather a more subdued feeling of general interest. One of the three was letting their eyes wander despite being at attention, eyeing the lines of the airship, stopping here and there when something interested him.

Probably the damage, Blade thought as she walked over to the railing. There were probably going to be questions about that. And likely about the rather obvious design of the ship. And the empty weapon mounts. Still, nothing that can’t be explained. Especially with my job.

“Hey!” she called, lifting a forelimb and giving them a lazy wave. “How’s it going?” No point in being formal about it. “Any of you speak Equestrian?”

“Yes!” the lead griffon called back. “Are you coming from the Ocean?”

“Yes!” Blade shouted back. “But I’m not from there! Blade Sunchaser, wandering claw!”

“Sunchaser?”

“Yes! Windrunner clan!” That got their attention. She could see them glancing at each other before the leader of the trio turned back towards her.

“We’ve heard of you! Permission to board?”

“Permission granted!” The three griffons nodded and then swooped towards the back deck in unison, spreading their wings in a textbook deployment as they settled onto the rear deck. Crisp, clear, and precise.

Just like they’re supposed to be, Blade thought, feeling a bit of pride as she watched them land. The Windrunner military wing always had prided itself on its precision. She stepped forward, nodding her head and spreading her wings partway in respectful greeting. “Welcome aboard.”

“Thank you,” the lead of the trio said, his voice clear and steady. “I’m Talon Claw Jel. These are Talon Claws Bantu and Magnus.” Blade let her eyes linger of the final of the trio, the black-and-grey griffon named Magnus with the tufted tail.

You’re here on business, she reminded herself, bringing her eyes back to Jel. Eye candy is inconsequential.

“Blade Sunchaser,” she said as each of the three offered their own bows. “Wandering claw, as I said. Well met.”

“Well met,” Jel said, stepping forward slightly. “So, wandering claw, huh? What took you to the Ocean?”

“A job,” she said. “Like all jobs, they take you places.”

“I see,” the griffon said, nodding. “I’ve heard your name before. You’re from the eyrie itself, right?”

“I am,” she said, nodding. Behind Jel, the other two griffons were stepping out of formation, looking at the rear deck of the ship and examining the ballistas.

“Outwatch,” Jel said, lifting one talon and waving it. “Which you probably figured. Ever been there?”

She shook her head. “No actually. Is it small?”

He gave her a shrug. “Mostly. It’s a lumber town not too far from here.”

Blade nodded. Lumber was one of the bigger exports for the clan, given the amount of it that was all across the Talmoss range.

“Anyway,” Jel said, looking back at his two companions. “You know the drill.” He reached into one of the back pockets of his armor and pulled out a small clipboard and a pen. “Standard border crossing information and check. We’ll have to take a quick walk-through to get a good look at things. This your airship?”

“Yeah.”

“And you’re the captain?” Jel asked, making a note on his pad.

“Yep.” Easier to simply just roll with it.

“Name of the ship?”

“Onset of Honor.”

Jel didn’t even bat an eye as his pen scratched at the pad. “Type?”

She shook her head. “Military corvette? I don’t know the class. It was built by the Teardrop Eyrie.”

Jel nodded. “Looks like it’s an offshoot of a Boltwing class. I’ll just put down ‘misc.’ How many crew?”

“Three,” she said. “Myself, two ponies.”

“Right,” Jel said, nodding. “Can we take a look inside?”

“Right this way,” she said, waving them towards the entrance. They followed her, each of them looking the ship up and down, occasionally asking questions as they passed by something or Jel reached another section of their form.

“By chance, did another airship come through here recently?” Blade asked as they passed through the galley. “A large one? Almost a yacht? Called Superiority?”

“No,” Jel said, shaking his head. The rest of the trio followed suit. “Not that I know of.”

“Okay,” she said, not expounding further. So Anubis had gone the other route. Still, that was easy enough to deal with. All they needed to do was get to the eyrie and—

“Can we take a look at one of the ammunition magazines?” Jel asked, his question jerking her thought process to a stop.

“The ammo magazines?” she asked, looking back at him. “What for?”

“Explosives check,” Jel said, still looking down at his pad. “I saw the weapon mount and assumed you had an ammo magazine somewhere, even if you weren’t using it. Are you using it?”

“Well, yes,” she said, nodding. ‘Mostly for crossbow bolts, though. You know about the Ocean.”

The griffon nodded and looked back down at his pad. “I’ve heard a few things, yeah. That cult still making things rough for everyone?”

“Not as much anymore,” she said. “Everyone else kind of got sick of it.”

“Uh-huh,” Jel said, nodding. “So … Ammunition magazines?”

“This way,” she said, motioning towards the front of the ship. “There’s only the one room, and it’s below where the main gun would be mounted, if we had one.”

“Right,” Jel said. He didn’t sound suspicious, but at the same time he was supposed to act professional. How much looking at the magazine did they want to do anyway?

If they do a thorough check, they’re going to find Hain, she thought. No doubt about it. There hadn’t been much to start with in the ammo magazine … if they dug around …

We can take them, but it’ll make the rest of this trip a lot more difficult, she thought as she reached the door. She reached out and wrapped her talons around the handle.

“In here,” she said, jerking the door outward rather than over and making it rattle in its housing. “Sorry,” she said, tugging at it again. “It gets a little stuck sometimes. Used ship, you know?” Hopefully, Hain would catch the hint.

“Right,” Jel said as she tugged the door open. Light spilled into the dark, cramped, and dusty magazine room, illuminating a solitary stack of crates tied up in one corner. There was just enough size to the stack that a single crate could have been missing from the middle, a single crate that would have left a hollow space barely large enough for a good-sized griffon.

“Well,” Jel said as he stepped past her. “Let’s see what we’ve got here.” He walked up to one of the crates and ran his talon along the side. “Cannon shot and powder?”

“For the gun the ship used to have,” Blade said, shrugging. “I don’t really have a use for it, but it came with the ship, so …”

Jel nodded and stepped around to the other side of the stack, running his eyes across the heavy, stamped letters. “And ballista bolts. Pretty standard stuff.” He made a note on his pad and then turned, moving for the door. Blade felt her wings relax a little. “Three crates worth of powder.”

“They want you to keep track of that stuff now?” she asked, breathing a bit more easily as he closed the door behind him.

“Evet,” he said, shrugging. “Don’t ask me why. Something to do with keeping track of weapons imports and exports in accordance with some terms set with a minotaur clan after a border skirmish.”

“Gotcha,” she said, noting that Jel had lowered his pen and letting out an inward sigh of relief. “So, anything else you need to know?”

“Just the final destination of your ship,” came the reply. “Where are you headed, and what’s your timetable?”

She gave him a grin. “That’s easy enough. The Talmoss Eyrie. Late tonight or tomorrow morning, if possible.”

“Nice,” he said, smiling back at her. “You’ll probably beat our paperwork there at that speed. Heading home for a while, huh?”

She let out a laugh, half at the question and half from relief that Hain wasn’t at risk of being found anymore. “Sort of, yeah.”

“Right,” he said, taking a quick look around at the rest of the room. “Well, in that case I’m just going to need your signature here, and then I’ll give you your copy for your own records. If you do end up beating your border record there, your copy will work well enough.”

“Right,” Blade said as he passed the clipboard over to her. The line he wanted her to sign was easy enough to find, and she put her name down under Jel’s watchful eye. “Anything else?”

“Nope,” Jel said as he took the clipboard back. “Just give me a second, and …” he reached into one of the pouches on his armor and pulled out a small stack of small cards, sitting back on his haunches as he copied some of the information from the sheet of paper he’d filled in over to the small card.

I really don’t remember this taking this long before, Blade thought as she looked up at the other two members of the trio. Both of them looked interested in what was going on, but she’d spent enough time around soldiers to know the difference between fake interest and real interest. They were just waiting for their talon member to finish up.

Just as well they didn’t find anything, she thought. If they had, I’d imagine we’d have a very different scenario right now. For starters, all three of the griffons would probably be unconscious. And they’d be working on a way to dodge the law while running to follow Anubis.

But … that’s not happening, she thought as Jel finished up his transcription and tore the card free from the top of the stack. So I really don’t want to be worrying about what we would have done in that situation. She watched as Jel fanned the card back and forth for a moment, quick-drying the ink.

“Here you go,” Jel said after a moment, passing it to her. She took it and gave it a quick once over. The stock was thick; durable, without much bend to it. The name of her ship was written along the top of the card, along with her own name. Below that was a list of details, each written in on a reserved line, along with a little more information about their trip. At the bottom was a signature and a hastily scrawled Windrunner clan mark, followed by a number and a set of initials.

“That should be good for anyone who asks,” Jel said moving to point at the bottom of the card and then shaking his head with a laugh. “Sorry. Force of habit. Half the ships we get through here have no idea what this stuff is.”

“Yeah, well that’s what you get when you’re dealing with a lawless zone like the Ocean,” she said, not bothering to add that it probably wouldn’t be that way for long. They’d find out soon enough. “That it?”

“No, unless you want to change travel plans,” Jel said put away the clipboard and pen. “It won’t matter after you reach the eyrie, but if you decided to go somewhere else first, you would need to contact the closest guard post and have an update sent to the eyrie so they know where your ship went.”

Blade nodded. “Not planning on it, but alright. Thanks.”

“Önemli değil,” Jel said, returning her nod. Then he glanced toward the other two members of his trio. “Biz iyiyiz. Haydi gidelim.”

The other two griffons nodded, their faces switching subtly back towards real interest once again. Heh, Blade thought as they began moving back towards the galley. Same old border patrol. Recruiting the griffons who just love to fly all the time. It was a smart move. And, she decided as she followed the trio back out onto the rear deck, also a psychological one. Griffons tasked on the border guard tended to stay in shape, which sent messages both ways—to those outside the Empire and to those who lived inside it.

Nothing like a fit, young griffon posing for the world at large, she thought as the trio of griffons spread their wings and jumped from the side with a quick, respectful farewell. Or to inspire some fledglings to give the military wing a shot. She stood for a minute watching as the small squad moved off, making good time as they shot through the air. Then she smiled.

“Any problems?” she asked as she stepped back onto the bridge. Alchemy was still sitting at the helm, though the binoculars sitting next to him said that he’d likely been watching the receding trio.

“None,” he said. “At least none that I could hear. No whispers anyway.”

“Where’s Frost?”

“Letting Hain out, I think.” He picked up the binoculars and took another look at the already distant griffons, their forms almost lost against the tops of the trees as they dropped down low to the ground. “Should I go ahead and get us moving again?”

“Yeah,” Blade said as the trio broke free of the treetops and out into the open sky, winging their way towards their next rendezvous point. “Let’s get moving. We’ve got a lot of sky to cover and we need to do it as fast as possible. I want to make it to Talmoss Eyrie before record of our arrival gets there.”

“Why?” Alchemy asked as he eased the throttle forward. The faint thrum of the propellers winding up began to echo through the deck, a comforting, familiar rumble underfoot that felt like progress.

“Because their record says that we have three sapients on the Onset,” she said, turning and heading for the ammo magazines to help Frost unpack Hain. “And I don’t want anybody getting a look at that before we arrive and disembark and realizing that there’s four of us onboard. Our borders aren’t exactly lax, but they’re definitely not lax enough to miss that.”

“Got it. So make it there as fast as we can?”

She nodded, giving the bridge one last glance and looking out the front windows at the distant mountains. “Faster, if possible.”

Underfoot, the rumble of the propellers increased.

* * *

“Blade?”

Blade looked away from the twin pairs of hangar doors as they began to slide shut, toward the overweight griffon coming across the floor towards her, his eyes open wide behind a thin pair of glasses. “Blade Sunchaser, that really is you?”

“What’d you expect, Rys?” she asked as the griffon came to a stop a few feet away from her, his entourage of goats and underlings skidding to a halt behind him. “That somebody else would be out here using my name?”

“Well … when you put it that way,” the old griffon said, tilting his head to one side as if deep in thought. “Yeah, actually. Definitely yes.” His head began to bob up and down in a rapid rhythm, like he was moving to some musical beat that only he could hear. “Especially when that individual is requesting a berth in one of my private airship berths.”

“Yeah, well, it’s me,” she said, turning and glancing at the Onset as the few workers in the hanger struggled to get it tied down. Alchemy and Frost were both up on deck now, tossing out lines. “Are you going to ask for proof?”

She caught a glimpse of the old griffon's eyes sliding down toward her namesake talons, the friendly smile slipping for just a minute, and then he was jovial once more. “Why of course not, Blade!” he said, leaning back on his haunches and spreading his forelegs. “I was just surprised, that’s all. The last I saw you—”

“Was when I was busting your butt for illegal smuggling with the rest of the guard,” she said, grinning as she tapped her talons against the paved floor of the hanger.

“Well, yes,” Rys said, his smile faltering slightly. “But I’ll have you know I paid my dues—”

“I’m sure you did, Rys,” Blade said, shaking her head. “And relax, I’m not here to do any digging into whatever below-the-treeline operation you’ve got going on around here. I’m a wandering claw now, remember?”

“How could I forget?” Rys asked, the smile coming back in full force across his dusty-tan face. “And what below-the-treeline operations would I—”

“More than one, huh?” Blade asked, giving the griffon a grin as he gave her a hurt look.

“Bold words for someone who’s asking my generosity in hosting their airship,” he said, gesturing towards the Onset. “You are, after all, taking up space in one of my private warehouses.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” she said, fighting the urge to roll her eyes. “Keep talking Rys. It’s what you’re good at.”

“What I’m good at!?” The old griffon reared back, spreading his wings and pressing a talon to his chest in mock shock. Or maybe it was real. It had always been hard to tell with Rys. Even her father had encountered difficulty in figuring out which was which. “Merely good?”

“Okay,” she admitted. “Sorta good.”

“Sort of good?” He was sputtering so much he looked like a congested owl. “Sort of? My dear, I am one of the foremost shippers in the entire clan! If I were a pony, my cutie mark would be a pile of money! Almost half of the Windrunner clan’s business passes through my talons—” One of the goats at his side bleated something.

“Yes,” he said, waving his talons to shoo the goat away. “I was getting to that. And as of last year I maintain the most profitable of the four trade positions to the Ocean of Endless Ice. I am not merely good, my dear Blade, I am excellent!”

“Well good then,” she said, smirking as he lowered himself back down. He still tweaked like he used to as well. She still remembered the time when she’d met him in her father’s office, back before he’d been running his own trade empire. He’d been just as eager to talk about himself then, especially when provoked by an inquisitive young kit. “Glad to hear it, because I’ve got a business proposition for you.”

“Well, I would hope so,” he said, dropping his grandstanding for a look of indignation. “Otherwise I would have to be running a private dock, and that is most definitely what my hangers are not for.” He paused, his eyes shifting up towards the Onset. “Would this have something to do with why you came in under the cover of night?”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “That was just timing. We’re in a hurry.”

“A hurry, huh?” he said. “What’s the rush? Time-constrained cargo you need to offload? A good deal?”

“Rys,” she said, shaking her head. “You know there’s only one reason I’d come here rather than just contact my father and look for the best deal if I was involved in a trading deal.” She didn’t have to say anything for him to understand her words. There was just a nod and then a glance at his tagalongs.

“Meep, Thrastus, you’re with me,” he said, pointing his claws at both the goat and one of the griffons. “The rest of you go do inventory or something. Check some paperwork. Go on. Get going.” The rest of the group was moving away before he even finished giving his orders, their expressions completely unphased. Apparently the behavior wasn’t at all unusual.

Good, Blade thought as she watched them go. She’d been worried that maybe while she’d been gone someone else would have stepped in to fill Rys’s airspace, but if his subordinates were this used to his casual dismissal that they go somewhere else, as well as the openness of the order, than things weren’t likely too different from when she’d left. The clan elders let Rys’s under the table dealings slide as long as they weren’t overtly dangerous and didn’t interfere with the clan’s regular trading operations. As long as he kept things out of sight and didn’t hurt anyone’s bottom line or deal in goods too dangerous or illegal, they were content to pretend all was flying well.

“So,” Rys said, giving her a charming smile. “Shall we retreat to an office where we can discuss what business you’re bringing me?”

“Actually,” Blade said, jerking her head towards the Onset. “Why don’t we discuss it aboard my ship?”

“There?” Rys asked. “Why there?”

“So you can get a good look at it,” she said. “After all, that’s your payment.” She saw the griffin’s eyebrows rise as he digested her words, the bushy, feathered clumps looking almost like small, battered feather dusters that someone was wiggling repeatedly.

“Very well,” he said, nodding. “On board your ship then.” There was a slight inflection to the word “your,” as if he was debating how long that would last. “Ramp!”

She spread her wings and flew up to the deck of the Onset, where she waited while the hanger crew sped over with a rolling gangplank. Rys waited patiently while they adjusted the metal set of stairs to the right height, walking up and down the length of the airship’s gondola with his belly rolling back and forth below him, his beak clicking open and shut as he gazed at the hull.

“What do you want us to do?” Alchemy asked, stepping up to her as the workers finished adjusting the stairway. Frost was right behind him.

“Nothing,” she said as Rys walked over to the stairs and began making his way up them, his loud, puffing breaths audible above her voice. Apparently the life of wealth he’d been leading had been a little less than healthy. Or maybe he just ate like a fledgling fresh from the egg. “Just stay behind me and let me do the talking … unless something really unexpected happens.”

“Like what?” Frost asked, lifting a single eyebrow. Blade almost blinked in surprise. From the expression on the mare’s face, she hadn’t expected her to say anything.

“You’ll know if it happens,” Blade said. “And no, I’m not expecting it.” Rys’s face appeared over the gunwale, the overweight griffon’s eyes lighting up like magilights as he stepped onto the deck.

“Very nice, very nice, ince bakıyor!” he said, running his eyes across the deck. “A little bit of damage, but in good enough shape. At least you’re not trying to pass something off on me that’s missing a deck.” His eyes narrowed as his two subordinates clamoured onto the deck behind him. “And that makes me suspicious, to be honest. What’s the deal, Blade?”

“Simple,” she said, gesturing with her wing towards the entrance to the ship’s inside. “We want to sell you this ship.”

“You could do that anywhere,” Rys said. “Which makes me think it’s not so simple. What’d you do? Steal it?”

“Do you want to know?” Blade asked, pausing and lifting one eyebrow.

“No,” Rys said. “Not really. Deniability, after all. But if it were stolen—”

“Then the owners would probably pay a hefty reward for its return,” Blade said as she stepped into the galley. “And since it’s from the Ocean, you could send it up there with trade goods for a premium.”

“Interesting theory,” Rys said, nodding. At his side, the goat bleated, and he nodded again. “Yes, that would be fortunate. And profitable. What, might I ask, do you want in return?”

“Information,” Blade said, pausing and turning back to look at the old merchant. “Information and transport via train. Whatever is available leaving for … well, we’ll know in a moment, but we’ll need transport that will get us there as quickly as possible.”

“Based upon the information, I presume?” Rys asked. “It must be difficult information indeed if you’ve come to me.”

“Actually,” she said, shaking her head. “It shouldn’t be at all. Someone in your organization should know it off wing already. Maybe even you. The destination of an airship that crossed the border a few days ago. Called the Superiority.”

“That one?” Rys said, frowning. “Yes, I remember that one. Never came here, but I saw the docket. It’s headed to Sheerwater.”

Bingo, Blade thought as he spoke. She glanced at Frost and Alchemy. Both of them were hiding their reactions well. We’ve got the destination. Now we just need to meet him there.

She turned back towards Rys. “Then that’s where we need to go,” she said. “We’ll need transport to Sheerwater.”

“That’s it?” Rys asked, a surprised look on his face. “I can get you tickets.”

“No,” Blade said, slowing and looking back at him as as she moved towards the stairs to the bridge. “Not tickets. Transport. You have connections at the rail yard, right? We need a ride to Sheerwater. Immediately, if possible.”

Rys slowed. “I could do that,” he said. “There’s a train leaving sometime soon …” His head darted left and right, light flashing from his glasses as he looked around. “Thrastus! Where are—there you are,” he said, as if seeing the diminutive griffon for the first time. “We have a train full of shipments leaving soon, right?”

“Evet Mi. Üç saat içinde, yirmi yedi dakika, efendim. Kereste sevkiyat,” Thrastus said, his words coming out with almost mechanical precision. Rys nodded.

“We can do that,” he said, turning back to look at her. “It leaves in—”

“Just under three-and-a-half hours,” she said, nodding. “I speak Griffon.”

“Right, right,” he said, nodding. “Well, I’m certain I can arrange something quite easily, then. They have these lovely luxury cars for special VIPs guests that I can set you up in—”

“That’s not all,” she said, coming to a full stop at the base of the steps up to the bridge. “We also need seven thousand, five hundred reeds as a payment.”

“Seven …” Rys’s eyes opened wide. “That’s a lot of—”

“It’s a steal, and you know it, Rys,” she said, shaking her head. Alchemy and and Frost were both flanking her, and she saw the griffon’s eyes jump to Frost with her flat, almost disapproving stare. I might need to talk to her about tact and diplomacy later. That stare isn’t helping our case.

“But it’s certainly a lot of money,” Rys protested.

Blade shook her head. “No, not with the amounts you deal with. Especially for an airship that’s rigged to travel back and forth from the Ocean, which is a major trade win for you.”

“The Ocean is a dangerous place,” he countered.

“Yet you’re still trading there,” she said. “Besides, as has been mentioned, if this vessel were to have been under the prior ownership of someone who wants it back, they might pay very well for its return, either in reeds, rings, or trade. Especially if those owners were part of a recent shift in the power structure.”

She could see the wheels turning in his head, though she was mostly certain he’d already thought far past the implications of what she’d mentioned earlier. He was just acknowledging it now. What was it her dad had said? You lay out the deal, get them to think about it. Then you mention it again, when they’ve already thought about it, and take it a step further. It’s like fishing.

Now to hook him for good, she thought. “Plus ...” she said, tapping her talon against the deck. “I’m pretty sure no matter what you’re shipping up to the Ocean as part of your trades gets returned in equal value of weight, since dust is only worth so much per ounce, even in trade. How much dust does three airships packed with goods get you? One ship worth? Half a ship? Imagine how much you could save if you sent an extra ship full of goods that you didn’t have to bring back?”

Beside Rys, the goat let out a loud bleat, his slitted eyes opening wide. Rys gave him a dirty look, and the goat shrugged before letting out a faint, low grunt that was probably an apology.

“I’ll admit,” Rys said, nodding. “And as I’m sure you could tell, my financial assistant assures me that this is the case.” He said the last few words with an edge and a quick glare again directed at Meep, who simply shrugged once more.

“But,” Rys said, “I’m sure you were well aware of that to begin with, so no harm done, I suppose. Seven-and-a-half thousand reeds, you say?”

“That’s not all there is to it,” Blade said, shaking her head as she turned back the the stairs and slowly began to climb. “We also need intelligence.”

“Intelligence?” Rys said, a quizzical tone to his voice. “I’ve heard that can be quite expensive.”

She stopped. “Perhaps,” she said, looking back. “But I know you have it, Rys. We need a place to hide in Sheerwater. A bolt hole or a safe house we can work out of. Someplace out of the way, but with good access to the city. And a contact who can provide us with intel as we need it.”

“Interesting,” Rys said, tilting his head up at her until the lens caught the light perfectly and erupted in white. “What kind of contact?”

“Nothing too shady,” she said. “Just someone who would look the other way for something like illicit goods or sapients who would rather keep a low profile. Who can feed us rumors and local news, maybe supplies from time to time.”

“I might know someone like that,” Rys said. “What are you—nevermind. I am sure that I do not want to know. Now, is there anything else?”

Blade glanced at Alchemy, and he nodded. “Yes,” she said. “Fifteen hundred reeds worth of dust.”

Rys’s eyes widened, his wings flaring out slightly and his tail lashing. “Delirdin mi? That’s ridiclous!”

“Knock half of it out of our payment, then,” she said, narrowing her eyes.

“A thousand off the payment,” he countered.

She nodded. “Acceptable. And that’s our only other request. Aside from complete silence on your part, of course,” she said, resuming her way up onto next deck. “We were never here. You never spoke with us. You never saw us. If anyone asks, we left the ship in one of your berths and vanished without saying a word.” She stepped onto the bridge. It was dimly lit with none of its lights on, the consoles shadowed lumps under what little light made it past the envelope. Frost and Alchemy filed in behind her.

“That seems steep,” Rys said, his voice heavy with labored breath as he stepped onto the bridge. “But at the same time, I see no harm in agreeing.” His head seemed to twist in the dark. “Are the lights faulty?”

“No one knows about us,” she said. “Agree to it. No one.”

“Fine,” he said, his shadowed form shrugging. “Agreed. No one knows. Six-and-a-half thousand reeds, plus a supply of ethereal dust. A reliable safe house and a contact in Sheerwater. And transport for all three of you out on a private car on the lumber shipment in a few hours. And,” he said, raising his voice. “I can get all three of you there as soon as you’re ready, and with no eyewitnesses.”

“Good,” Blade said. “But there’s just one problem.”

“Oh?”

“There aren’t three of us,” a new voice said, echoing through the room. One of the shadowy shapes by the navigation helm moved, Hain stepping out of the shadows and assuming a military stance near the windows. “There are four of us.”

“Four?” Rys said. “Why …?” Then he paused. “I don’t want to know, do I?”

“No,” Hain said. “You really don’t.”

“I see. Should I be worried? Go to the authorities?”

“No,” Hain said again. “We’re not some rival criminal enterprise. We’re just on a job, and we need to get to Sheerwater. Fast.”

“Fast enough we’re willing to give away our ship to get there,” Blade added. “So, can you do it?”

Rys’s nodded in the dark. “I can,” he said, holding out one forelimb to shake talons. “Miss Sunchaser, you have a deal. Is your team ready to move? I can have you on that train in an hour, and on my honor, no one will ever know you nor your team were here.”

Blade smiled as she took his talons and shook. Hain’s addition had been the master stroke. It didn’t matter what Rys thought about the whole thing. Maybe that they were working for the Empire itself, undercover. Or maybe that they were involved with something else that could bring him a good favor later. Whatever he thought, the deal had been made.

We’re on our way, Anubis, and we will catch you. And when we do … Well, he’d know soon enough.

“We’ll grab our bags,” she said, nodding at the griffon. “We’ll be ready in fifteen minutes.”

They were ready in ten.

Count of Laws Broken: 17
Total Laws Broken: 86
Damage Value (In Bits): 0
Total Damage Value (In Bits): 390,941

Chapter 24 - Sheerwater

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Sheerwater, Griffon Empire Capital City

“So,” Blade asked, sitting down on the plush seat across from Alchemy. “I take it when you passed through the Griffon Empire on your last trip, you never visited the capital, huh?” She grinned as the orange earth pony glanced back at her before turning his eyes forward once more.

“No,” he said, squinting through the heavy glass at the distant desert. “I never did. When I traveled to the Plainslands, we went directly there by ship. And on the way back, well …” He shrugged, his eyes still staring straight ahead, fixed on oncoming tracks that had sliced a line across the scrub brush. “We stuck pretty close to the coast until they could get me passage back to Equestria.”

Blade nodded as her own eyes drifted to the side, away from the oncoming tracks and towards the vibrant, wide open desert on either side of the train. It looked flat, though she knew that was just an illusion based on their speed. The ground was hard and dry, ridged, with stone outcroppings and plenty of little slot canyons to hide in. Here and there a butte towered over the landscape like an ancient sentinel, the dull, tanned orange of the stone standing in silent contrast to the vivid blue sky.

They were still a few miles away from the outskirts of Sheerwater, so most of the terrain was only sparsely occupied. But even then, there were clear signs of occupation if one knew where to look. Her eyes drifted towards one of the distant buttes, a towering, staggeringly tall monolith whose shadow had to stretch for at least a quarter mile. There was a haze about its base, a cloud of dust that seemed to hang in the air around where the shadow was currently situated.

Livestock, she thought as she watched the dust cloud shift. She lifted her eyes upward, working her gaze along the face of the butte, picking out the telltale signs of residence. A depression here, a railed platform there. She had no doubt that if she were to spread her wings and fly over the butte, she’d find that the entire top half had been hollowed out, maybe turned into a gigantic reservoir for the few times it did rain. The rest of the time, its owners would be pumping water from one of the three rivers that fed into Sheerwater Lake.

“Hey,” Alchemy said, apparently catching sight of her gaze. “What are you looking at?”

“A settlement,” Blade said, and the earth pony’s eyes widened. “A ranch, from the look of it.”

“Wow!” Alchemy said, rearing up and putting his hooves up against the glass. “They all live in that rock tower?”

“It’s called a butte,” she said. “But yeah. Remember how the Pinnacle was hollowed out?” She gestured toward the distant rock. “Same principle. Griffons like to live high up, where we can fly easily and get a good view of our surroundings.”

There was a soft thump from the back of the car, and Blade turned to see Frost stepping through the rear stairwell. The mare gave her a nod, and she returned it.

“Why not just build cloud structures, like the pegasi?” Alchemy asked, his eyes still fixed on the distant butte.

I guess it is new, she thought as she eyed his interest. All the cities we’ve passed so far have been more standard places—laid out like a more typical village but on a mountainside or a hill. It hadn’t escaped her noticed that several of the stops they’d made had only happened after a long climb, but maybe it had escaped Alchemy’s.

“We’re not quite as good at weather-working as the pegasi are,” she said, shrugging as Frost took a seat nearby. She glanced at the mare, and when she didn’t say anything, continued.

“Basically,” she said. “We can work weather and make cloud structures, but we aren’t as good at it. We do have cloud cities, but they’re usually smaller and simpler as a result. Plus, most of us don’t want to be too far away from our food supply.

“It seems like a desert isn’t exactly the best place for that,” Frost said, pointing one hoof at the surrounding countryside. Her pale-white mane was slightly damp, and it didn’t escape Blade’s notice that there was a faint, purple shimmer around the unicorn’s horn. Having grown up on the Ocean, the heat of the desert, even inside the water-cooled luxury carriage they’d been granted, was more than enough to wear the mare out.

“You’d be surprised,” Blade said, tilting her head back towards the distant butte. “A lot of things can live off of the scrub brush here if they need to. Most of the livestock just eats that. And since we can manipulate the weather if we need to, getting it to rain is usually a matter of just teaming up with a few nearby work groups and heading to wherever the clouds congregate.” She leaned back in her seat as the butte slowly swept off into the distance behind them. They were making good time. “Plus, the rivers do a lot for Sheerwater. You ever had freshwater shrimp? Or prawns?” Both ponies shook their heads.

“Well then,” she said as the door to the rear stairs slid open again with a soft thump. “You’re in for a surprise. Tasty little suckers.”

‘What are?”

“Freshwater shrimp,” she said, glancing back at Hain. The older griffon’s eyes widened, a distant look coming over his face. “Frost and Al here have never had them.”

“Forget these two,” Hain said, taking a seat on the opposite side of the car. “I haven’t had any in about twenty-some odd years.”

“Sounds like we know what our contact needs to pick up as soon as we get to Sheerwater,” Blade said. “I could go for some myself.” She could feel her mouth watering at the thought of digging into a pile of freshwater prawns.

“We have an immortal to find,” Frost said, her voice cool. The memory of digging into a bowl of fresh shrimp evaporated.

“I know,” Blade said, slightly annoyed at the interruption. “What we’re doing right now, though? This is called relaxing. You should try it sometime.”

Frost scowled and turned back to look out the glass. Alchemy shot Blade a dirty look, and she shrugged.

Maybe I could have been a bit nicer, she thought as she turned her attention back towards the desert. But seriously, does she not think I’m not thinking about what to do about Anubis already?

“Anyway,” she said, pulling the group’s attention back. “Sheerwater has plenty of food. Even crop-based stuff, thanks to the three rivers.”

“How’s that work anyway?” Alchemy asked. Blade looked at Hain.

The older griffon shrugged. “Pretty simple. Three rivers, all of them meeting at Sheerwater. That’s plenty of water for irrigating all the cropland north of the city.”

“I haven’t seen any of it,” Alchemy said.

“It’s all down in the canyon,” Blade said, leaning back in her seat.

“Canyon?”

She and Hain glanced at one another. “How much do you know about Sheerwater?” Hain asked as the car began to tilt forward, the train going into a gradual descent. Blade glanced up ahead, through the thick, forward windows of the observation deck. The custom luxury car they’d been given wasn’t quite as nice as the private car her last employers had made use of, but at the same time it was still pretty nice. Also, it wasn’t quite so full of guilt.

“Just that it’s the capital of the Griffon Empire,” Alchemy said. “And it’s called the city of spires.”

“Do you know why?” Hain asked. Alchemy shook his head.

“You’ve got this,” Blade said as Hain glanced in her direction. Better to let him take it, since knowing a bit about the city would be good for Frost. Ahead of them, she could see the landscape rising slightly as they approached a long, flat-topped mesa. There was a black spot ahead of them. A tunnel.

“Fine,” Hain said, turning back towards Alchemy. “Sheerwater is called the city of spires because, well … Tartarus, how to describe it? Have you ever seen a canyon?”

“Yes,” Alchemy said.

“Right. How large of one?” The sky overhead vanished as the train swept into the tunnel, the faint chuff of the engine echoing around them as they passed into the cool underground.

“There were some near where I grew up,” Alchemy said. “Pretty large.”

“Were any of them large enough that they had standing pillars of stone in them?” Hain asked. “Where the river had switched direction and started going a new direction after some time?”

“Well, yes.” It was hard to see Alchemy’s face in the dimness of the tunnel, but Blade could imagine the look of curiosity on his muzzle well enough.

“How large?”

There was a shuffling sound as Alchemy shrugged. “Maybe forty, fifty feet across?”

“All right,” Hain said. “Now, imagine what would happen if you had a spot where three rivers met and—someone probably knows how long ago but I sure don’t—spread out in a delta around a butte that was already there. You’d get a really, really wide canyon after a while, right?”

“Okay.”

“One with a lot of spires of rock, most of them originally islands in their own right, but now towers as the river dug itself lower.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Frost said, her horn growing a little brighter and casting a purple light over everything.

“Well, that’s fine,” Hain said. “In a minute, you’re going to. Once we get past the mesa, you’ll be able to see it all—the canyon, the city itself … everything.” There was a wistful tone to his voice.

“Why not just go over the mesa?” Frost asked. “Or around it? Then we could see it already.”

“The mesa is soft rock,” Hain said. “You might not be able to feel it, but we’re getting lower, too. It was easier to tunnel through it and build a bridge at the end than create a giant switchback.”

Blade blinked. “That’s why? I’d never thought about it.”

“It’s also a defensive consideration,” Hain said. “In the event of invasion by rail, the bridge can be collapsed, along with both ends of the tunnel, trapping and then sealing an entire train's worth of forces.”

“Oh,” Blade said, feeling an urge to shift her wings. Trapped under tons of rock … it didn’t seem like a very good way to go. “Let’s hope no one knows we’re coming, then.” She peered ahead, her eyes picking out a distant bright patch that was growing closer and closer. “And for those of you who’ve never seen it, I think we’re about to get our first view of the city of Sheerwater itself.”

Up ahead the bright, white glow resolved itself into a tunnel entrance. A moment later the train burst free of the earth and into the sunlight, Blade blinking as her eyes adjusted the the sudden glare. Then, from around her, she heard the gasps. She smiled, her own eyes still adjusting, and then she too took her first look in years at the Griffon Empire capital.

The city was spread out before them as the train continued onward across a bridge of heavy wooden trestles. It was easy to see what had made both Alchemy and Frost gasp. What had once been ancient pillars of rock, hundreds of feet high and dozens if not hundreds of feet across, filled the canyon in front of them. Bands of colored stone, some alternating, some vibrant, and some the same dusty red as the rest of the desert, made up each tower, each one distinct from its fellows. Smaller spires of rock poked their way between the behemoths, some of them offshoots from a time when the roaring force of the three rivers had worn away the softer stone, others simply long, thin needles stretching up from the canyon floor far below.

Blade craned her head down, getting a view of the canyon bottom. From where they were she couldn’t see the conflux where the three rivers converged, but she could see the wide, rushing, deep depths of their combined might where they divided the city of Sheerwater from land. The three rivers really became two, though none considered them that. In school some had tried to argue that Sheerwater canyon was actually two canyons with an island-like city in the middle, but the idea had never really caught on. What mattered was that the river split around the city before joining with Sheerwater lake on the southern end, which then faded into a more sedate river that traveled all the way to the ocean.

It was the perfect place for a griffon population. Plenty of water, plenty of food, and most importantly, plenty of tall places in which an eyrie could be established.

And we did, Blade thought as she caught sight of Alchemy’s slack jaw. We most definitely did. Each one of the mighty stone pillars had been shaped, carved by over two thousand years of occupation. Walkways and highways had been carved into the stone, or built in place using wooden trusses, sometimes along the outside of each of the pillars, and other times stretching between them much like their own railway did, supported by stone pillars and heavy wooden bridges.

Pennants and clan sigils flew from the tops of various pillars, and large, damp-looking pipes snaked their way across the surface of the city, ferrying water from the three rivers to wherever it was needed. Even the bases of each of the stone monoliths had been colonized: Blade could see hundreds of stone and wood structures that had been built up in the shadows of the towering stone, along with wide, winding pathways that twisted back and forth as they made their way down the side of the old gravel slopes.

As they drew closer, their train moving out over the river on one of several bridges that were in view, details began to resolve themselves. Elevator platforms that moved up and down the sides of each of the stone eyries. Hundreds of windows and openings into the interiors of the stone pillars themselves. And everywhere—climbing up and down the various levels of each of the pillars, flying through the sky, moving across the river on large barges, or even just lying on the side of a stone walkway, talons hanging over the edge—were griffons.

“Incredible,” Frost said, her eyes wide. “There’s so many …”

Right, she’s probably not seen an actual city before, Blade thought. She moved forward, pointing towards a single, massive stone butte that was higher than anything in the city. Pennants and flags flew from its carved buttresses and towers. “You see that?” she asked. “That’s pretty much the core of the city. The Imperial Spire. Taller and more heavily defended than anything here. That’s where the king and the ruling clan live.”

“Right,” Alchemy said as they finished moving across the river, their train quickly approaching one of the stone pillars and then sliding alongside it as its track wound along the side. The earth pony seemed to be looking in dozens of directions at once, his head snapping around much quicker than it should have been able to. ‘Are those elevators? Is the city just on the pillars?”

“Yes, those are elevators, and no,” Blade said. “The ground below us is basically like a series of shelves from when the three rivers shifted course … kind of like a bunch of oddly shaped tables stacked on one another. So the closer you get to the center, the higher the ground actually is.”

“Oh,” Alchemy said as the train track split off from the side of the butte, blazing a straight path through the air and then into another tunnel that took them through the center of a spire. “A lot of exercise, huh?”

“Not if you have wings,” Hain said, his voice quiet. If she hadn’t known better, she almost would have suspected him of being choked up.

“What about water?” Frost asked. She almost looked panicked, her eyes sweeping back and forth almost as quickly as Alchemy’s head as she took in the sights all around them.

“Piping and hydro power,” Blade said. “The east side of the river moves at a very high speed, and we’ve made extensive use of it.”

“What about the wind power?” Alchemy asked, pointing to several vertical windmills visible on the tops of some of the pillars. “I presume that’s what those are?”

“Power source,” Blade said. “Magilights. Pumping. Air pressure. Whatever the individual towers need them to be.” She pointed at one of the stone towers, her claw picking out the elevators rising and falling along its side. “For example, some places use it for the cargo elevators. Other places, like the shipyard, find it easier to use air pressure for some equipment since the river is some distance away. Others don’t want to deal with additional water piping.” She shrugged. “It’s an old city, and it has had a lot of owners.”

“They’re wearing clothes,” Frost said, her voice quiet but clearly surprised. “Clothes. In this heat!”

“It actually helps,” Alchemy said, shifting his attention to the open-air market that Frost was looking at, watching as it swept by. “Although I don’t know if I’d call some of that clothes,” he said. “It’s just a scarf.”

“It’s still cloth,” Frost said. “It keeps you warm!”

“And cool,” Alchemy said. “Like shade from the sun. You should see the Plainslands. They have a lot of cloth everywhere. Keeps the sun off of you.”

“It’s crazy,” Frost said as they swept through the city. Her horn began to glow a little brighter, and Blade smiled as she felt a chill move through the compartment. Apparently the idea that you could use cloth to stay cool was a completely foreign concept to the mare.

“It works,” Alchemy said as a faint squeal echoed through the car, the train jerking slightly beneath them as it began to slow. Up ahead there was a sharp rise in the ground, the raised track they were riding on finding itself level with the ground as they moved to a higher level of the city.

“Ridiculous,” Frost said.

“I swear,” Alchemy said, raising his hoof. “I even used to own a bunch of formal robes. From when I was in the Plainslands.”

The train continued to slow as Frost and Alchemy began debating back and forth over the value of wearing clothes in a hot climate, and Blade just shook her head as she watched the scenery slide by. It might work, she thought as the city outside the train began to shift, becoming more and more industrial as they moved nearer to their destination. But I think I’ll stick with just my fur, feathers, and maybe some armor.

Armor. There was something she probably needed to get more of. Especially considering who they were tracking down.

I might be able to afford some, she thought as the train’s brakes squealed again. After all, we’ve got a bit of cash with us now. One more thing to think about. She added the armor to her mental list and then looked out the window again.

I wonder if he’s here yet? she asked as she stared out at the sun-baked city. Somehow the knowledge that Anubis might have already arrived, that he might have already begun worming his way into the heart of her homeland, somehow it made the city seem less grand. More threatening.

What does he want here, anyway? More followers? A takeover? That last one would prove almost impossible, but it was an option that she and Hain had discussed over the last few days. To spread terror?

There just wasn’t any solid answer to pin down yet. She glared at a distant airship dock as it slid by. There’s what, six or seven public docks around the city? At least another dozen or so private … And he could have landed at any of them.

She shook her head as the train jerked again, a long, metallic squeal echoing down the length of the tracks. We’re flying in a fog. We need information. All we have right now is a few sure facts and a bunch of theories.

The train was barely moving at a crawl now, her thoughts picking up speed in what felt like a twisted parody. The ancient griffon writing … Did an ancient clan help him? Trap him? Is he here for revenge? To find old followers? Are there any followers? Death cults hadn’t been something she’d ever noticed in the history books as a fledgling, but then she’d confined herself to her interests and her schooling.

Ugh … She dropped her head at her mental groan, squeezing her eyes shut. We need information. Textbooks, history books, myth, legend … Anything!

She shook her head again and then looked out the window, letting her tail lash out her irritation behind her. I should have asked Rys to get us a couple of history books on the immortals, she thought as the train began sliding into a massive rail yard. Several rail workers flew past, their eyes on the train. Probably counting the lumber load that was strung out behind them. At the rate we were giving him for our ship, he probably would have “borrowed” the entire eyrie library if we’d thought to ask.

“Bored?” Hain asked, and she looked up to see him glancing at her.

“No,” she said, shaking her head again and then rising from her seat. “I just got thinking about where we go from here.”

Hain nodded and turned back towards the window. “I’ve been thinking about it myself.”

“Any ideas?” Blade asked. Both Frost and Alchemy, she noticed, had turned away from their examination of the lumber yard and were paying attention to their conversation.

“Lay low, gather information,” Hain said with a shrug. “There’s not much else we can do. We don’t even know if Anubis has arrived in Sheerwater yet, if he will, or what his plans are if he does arrive.”

“I don’t like the idea of trying to chase him down once more,” Frost said, her voice cutting into the conversation.

“Neither do I,” Blade said with a sigh. It was a point Frost had raised several times over the last few days. “But look at it this way: If he doesn’t arrive but the Superiority does, then we’ve got a whole airship full of cultists we can go take care of without having to worry about their new boss and his fear powers. And if the airship doesn’t show up, a few words with the local military wing will put a bulletin out on the Superiority, and they’ll find him for us.”

“Speaking of Anubis’s powers,” Hain said, looking towards Alchemy. “How’s progress on the potion going?”

“Slow,” Alchemy said, frowning. “It’s not anything I’ve ever tried to do before.” The earth pony had put the supply of ethereal crystal they’d gotten from Rys to use almost immediately, brewing up several additional batches of his own potion stash as well as a few basics … but also working on something new.

“It’s not just trying to deaden the emotions,” Alchemy said, shaking his head. “I thought of that, and there are potions for it, but all Anubis would have to do is simply overwhelm the user with more and more protracted fear. Besides, potions don’t remove the subconscious, automatic effects, like the adrenaline and the muscles locking. Even if a conscious will can overcome it, deadening the conscious reaction just isn’t enough.”

“So what are we looking at than?” Blade asked.

Alchemy offered a small shrug. “At the moment? I’m trying to figure out if there’s another way to negate the effects of his ‘Fear Field,’ for lack of a better word. I might be onto something with a polar opposite, but …” He shook his head. “There’s a major drawback, though. To all of it.”

“Which is?” Frost asked.

“It’s … all theoretical,” Alchemy said. “I can come up with a number of potions that should help, but we won’t actually know for certain until we test them.”

Blade nodded. “Which means using them when we face Anubis.”

“Yeah,” Alchemy said. “Unfortunately, that’s the best I can do. I don’t have any way of replicating the particular spell he used—”

“What if I tried?” Frost asked.

“It wouldn’t work,” Alchemy said. “The energy distribution could be completely different or even a different type altogether. The only way to counter that would be to try and counter just the emotion of fear itself, but that’s not feasible either.”

“Why not?”

“It’s …” He shook his head. “Understanding the actual explanation would take at least an hour, plus an advanced understanding of potions, magical resonance, personal magic fields, and the science behind the workings of the specific spell itself.”

“Ah,” Frost said, looking slightly disappointed. “I understand, then.”

“Trust me, I appreciate the offer,” Alchemy said, shaking his head. “But at this point I just need time and ideas.” He took a quick look around them, his eyes fixing on the still moving lumber yard. “Why haven’t we stopped yet?”

“There’s a mile or so of wood behind us,” Frost said. “It’s a lot of weight, and it needs to be unloaded.”

“Right,” Alchemy said with a shake of his head. “I’m just kind of eager to get off the train and see everything.”

“Well, don’t get too eager,” Blade said. “We’re supposed to wait here until our contact arrives. That could be a while.” She turned and headed back toward the rear stairs. Might as well prep something to eat while we wait, she thought as she slid the door open.

“What about plans?” Frost asked.

“Frost,” she said, turning and looking back at the mare. “We’ve gone over it and over it for three days. At this point, if any of us think of anything new, than we can bring it up with everyone else. But until then, I’m going to get lunch and wait for our contact to arrive.”

Her answer seemed to satisfy the mare, or at least, she hoped it did. We’ve been talking about this for days, she thought as she moved down to the first level of their car and over to the small kitchen. But at this point, we’re just running around flapping our wings like kits pretending to fly. We need solid info.

She felt the train come to a final stop as she scarfed down one of the sandwiches from the fridge. Hopefully it meant that their contact would arrive soon, though she knew she couldn’t count on that fact. In all likelihood Rys’s contact would be someone working the rail system, and they would need to get the message first before they could come and get them.

If they decide to go through with it at all, she thought, though she dismissed the idea almost as quickly as it had come. You’re just irritable, she thought as she unwrapped the second sandwich, the scent of thick, juicy chicken making her salivate. Rys wouldn’t have a contact down here he wouldn’t trust with a simple job. Besides, if we were strung out, we could always find a hotel room somewhere. Sixty-five hundred reeds was a pretty nice sum. Enough to last them a good while, provided all they needed to do was lay low.

Unfortunately, if we tangle with Anubis or the city guard, laying low in a hotel room won’t be as possible. We’d have to—

She shoved the thought away and took another bite of her sandwich. Stop thinking about it. You can’t do anything about it, so why bother wasting time on it? Come on, Blade. Walk before you run, run before you fly.

She finished the rest of the sandwich in silence, watching through one of the tinted lower windows as the lumber yard went to the work of unloading the train. It was a fairly standard process—a worker would roll up with a heavy duty, extra-long carriage, and the lumber-yard workers would go to work unloading each flatbed, uncovering the recently-cut boards and moving them over to the carriage one by one. As soon as the carriage was loaded, it was off, pulled away to another part of the yard while a new carriage was brought into place.

Pretty much the reverse of home, Blade thought as she watched the various sapients work. It was mostly griffons, but she could see the occasional pony, minotaur, and even zebra appearing from time to time as part of the carriage crews. Except there we just loaded the trains. She’d never been big on the numbers, but she knew that the Talmoss Eyrie was responsible for a large portion of the Empire’s lumber. And, with the care they were taking, would be for centuries to come.

Centuries, she thought as she watched the workers start on another one of the flatbeds, rolling the carriage back so they could pass the thick boards over. Anubis was locked away for centuries. At least sixteen-hundred years. So why Sheerwater?

She shook her head again, chasing away the circling thoughts. She could worry about it later. When they had a little bit more to go on. Right now, just think about what you’re going to do.

A history book, she decided, balling up her leftover sandwich wrapping. I’m definitely going to get a history book.

Or at least a chunk of wood. She needed something to whittle.

* * *

It was dark when their contact finally arrived. Blade’s head snapped up as the faint knock echoed through the car, and she glanced over to where Hain was sitting with his eyes shut. Or had been. His eyes were open now, alert and searching.

Blade spoke first. “It could be our contact,” she said, rising from her seat, where she’d been idly trying not to put any more claw marks into the bit of scrap wood she’d nabbed from the lumberyard during a brief excursion. It already bore a strong resemblance to one of the many clan pennants flying around the city, and as much as her claws itched to she’d been trying to resist simply trying to make something else out of it for the sake of boredom.

“It also might not be,” Hain answered, lifting himself from his seat and spreading his wings as he looked at the front entrance. The knock came again, this time a little louder.

Only one way to find out, Blade thought, passing Hain as she moved over to the door and pulled it open. “Yes?”

A brown pegasus pony was standing there, a lantern in one hoof, his eyes widening in surprise as he tilted his head back and looked her in the face. He looked nervous, like he wasn’t entirely positive he knew what he was doing.

“I’m ... “ His voice died out, and he let out a small cough. “I was told to meet someone here?” He had a low voice, but it was almost nasally, like he’d contracted a small cold. “Four someones, actually?”

“Rys?”

He nodded, his expression brightening a little. “Yes!”

“Come in,” she said, jerking her head toward the inside. The pony gave a soft gulp, his ears flattening along the back of his head, but he stepped inside anyway. She glanced at his cutie mark as he passed. It was a pair of what looked like ledgers, sitting closed atop one another.

“Are you new to this?” Blade asked as she shut the door. “Or is this just an act?”

“Well,” the pony said, clearing his throat once more and turning his head towards both her and Hain as if he was afraid to take his eyes off either of them. Which, she decided, he probably was. “I work for Rys, if that’s what you’re talking about.”

“But you’re new to under-the-treeline orders,” Blade said, her heart sinking slightly. If Rys’s safe room involves putting us up in one of his accountant’s own houses—

“No, no, no,” the pegasus said, shaking his head. “You mean his ‘claws-on’ shipments? I deal with a dozen of those every month. But usually, the special shipments are in boxes. Four griffons, on the other claw …”

“Two,” Blade said, noting his use of griffon colloquialism. Someone’s spent some time over here. “The other two members of our party are ponies like yourself. Earth and unicorn.”

“Oh,” the pegasus said, his eyes widening a little, though Blade wasn’t quite so certain it was real surprise anymore. Maybe mock, designed to make her think she was in charge and could feel at ease. “My information didn’t say anything at all like that.”

“Does it matter?” Hain asked, his feathered brow shifting.

“I suppose not,” the pegasus said. “I just assumed—well, it doesn’t matter. Are you ready to depart?”

“One minute,” Blade said. “It’ll take us a little while to get ready. We weren’t sure when you were going to be showing up.”

“That’s understandable,” came his reply. “I apologize for the wait. We weren’t exactly prepared for our instructions, and we needed to shift some things around.”

“So there’s a safe house ready?”

He nodded. “Yes, although I find myself hoping that our definitions of ‘safe house’ are similar enough that you won’t end up being disappointed.” He gave his wings a little flap for emphasis. “I’m not exactly familiar with your business but …”

“How much did Rys tell you?” Blade asked.

“Very little,” the pegasus replied, his voice flat. “And I would prefer we keep it that way, to be honest.” He took a quick glance around at the rest of the car. “This whole thing is well outside my expertise.”

There was a shuffling sound from the stairs and Alchemy poked his head down, a grin growing across his face as he saw the pegasus. “I did hear someone,” he said, stepping the rest of the way down the stairs and extending his hoof. “You must be our local contact, Mister …”

“Books,” the pegasus replied, taking Alchemy’s hoof and shaking it. “Just Books, if you please. I’d rather not give away much more than that if it can be helped.”

“Understood,” Alchemy said, dropping his hoof. “I can see that. Brown’s not your natural color, is it.”

Books recoiled, his eyes widening. “How did you—”

“I’m an alchemist, and your mane is too shiny. Plus the feather dye isn’t the best job,” Alchemy said. “Also, you just admitted it.”

‘Relax,” Blade said as Books began to hyperventilate. She took a step forward. “We’re not a group you need to worry about. You know, unless you try and stab us in the back.” She paused as the pegasus’s breaths began to slow. “You really are new to this aren’t you?”

“No,” Books wheezed. “I’ve been doing this job for years. Dealing with sapients is new.” He took a long, steadying breath. “Boxes have a tendency to not talk back. Or move.”

“Then you need to get out more,” Blade said, ignoring the odd looks Alchemy and Hain gave her at her response. “Anyway, I’m Blade, and these are two of the members of my team.” They’d already decided that unless their contact showed any sign of knowing their actual names, it was best to leave them unmentioned. Especially in Hain’s case.

“Charmed,” Books said, his voice regaining its almost nasal quality. He didn’t say anything about the lack of names. If anything, he almost looked relieved that the subject hadn’t come up. “So, uh …” He glanced around at the three of them. “Are you ready to go?”

Blade glanced at Alchemy, and the earth pony gave her a slight shake of his head. “Not yet,” she said. “It’ll take us a moment to get ready. We’ve got a bit of gear.”

“Ah,” Books said, blinking. “is it much? I’m afraid we didn’t bring a very large wagon.”

“Wagon?”

“Well, yes,” Books said. “That’s how we typically move goods. We have a wagon. Filled with a few empty crates that we padded.”

“So we’ll be moving blind.”

“I …” Books shook his head. “I don’t know what else you would expect? This isn’t my line of business. I move boxes of goods. Or look up information. I don’t help people sneak off of a train.”

“It’s …” Blade shook her head. “It’s fine. We’ll make it work.” She gave Alchemy a quick toss of her head, and he nodded, turning and moving back up the stairs. “We’ll ride in the crates until we’re clear of the lumber yard and you can take us to your safe house. Is it easy to come and go from?”

“Yes,” Books said, looking more sure of himself. “I made sure of that. It was specified.”

“Good,” Blade said, nodding. “What about procurement? Can you get us weapons?” Books’ face blanked. “Information?”

He nodded. “The last one, probably. If you want, you know, food and stuff I can get that. Or books. But weapons?”

“Then we can get them,” Blade said, shaking her head. “I know a few shops around here that do good business.”

“Ah …” Books glanced around the car. “So … can we leave soon? I don’t mean to hurry, but …”

“No,” Blade said, shaking her head as Hain stood and moved towards the back of the car, heading for where they’d stashed their bags. “Like I said, give us a minute, and we’ll be all ready to go.”

And then, she thought. We can get this whole thing underway.

* * *

The ride to the safe house was bumpy and, she admitted, more cramped than she’d hoped. The crates that Books had provided had indeed been large enough for an adult griffon to fit in if they weren’t too worried about space, but since she was just a tad larger than the average griffon …

Note to self, she thought as the wagon rolled over another bump. If you ever get a favor from Rys again, make sure you’re a bit more specific in your own messages. Her head bounced against the roof of the crate, and she bit back a curse as the wood rattled. Or have him get more competent employees to handle things.

At least they were on their way to their safe house at last, with their gear safely stowed inside a fifth crate that Books had brought just for the occasion. He thought that far ahead, she thought as the wagon came to a slow stop. The light that was seeping in through the gaps in the rough wooden crate shifted as someone moved past, and she fought the urge to get ready for a fight.

Relax, she told herself. Books is on your side. Unless he’s not, in which case, whose side would he be on? He doesn’t know who Hain is—couldn’t know, unless he’s seen some records that he shouldn’t have or Rys knew more than he let on. But—

The light shifted again, and she relaxed a little as the wagon resumed moving. There was a rattle, a faint bounce that didn’t quite feel like a normal dip in the roads, and then the wagon came to a stop again. There was a long, low, rolling rumble, and then a hoof rapped on the side of the wagon.

“We’re here,” Books said, his whisper echoing loudly across whatever space they’d found themselves in. “You guys can come out.”

“Finally,” Blade said, reaching up and pushing the crate lid aside. It slid away, letting out a loud bang as it hit the wagon floor. She took a quick look around as her eyes adjusted. They were in a small warehouse, their wagon parked alongside two others. Beside her another crate opened up, Hain sticking his head out and stretching his wings.

“This it?” she asked, scanning the warehouse.

“No,” Books said, shaking his head as she brought her gaze back around to on him. The rest of the warehouse was empty. “The safe house is about a half-mile that way.”

“Why’d we stop here?” Blade asked, spreading her wings and leaping free of the crate. After a few days confined to a train car, it felt good to stretch her wings once more, even if it was in a small space.

“Because I didn’t see any point in hauling you all the way to the safe house and then bringing the wagon back,” Books said. “Especially since the four of you put together aren’t exactly light, the safe house is a level up from here, and a wagon full of goods would look out of place in that neighborhood at this time of night.”

Blade thought about it for a moment and then nodded. “Fair point,” she said, settling near the end of the wagon, where Frost had opened the last crate and taken it upon herself to distribute their bags. Blade reached out and snagged hers, slinging them over her back in one smooth motion. “Lead on.”

Books led them out of the warehouse, pausing only to shut the lights off and make sure that the warehouse door was locked before moving off down the street. The rest of the team followed, all of them, Blade noticed, looking in every direction like a pack of awe-struck tourists. Particularly Frost, who seemed completely stunned by the city around them.

I guess when the biggest city you’ve ever seen has a population of maybe five or six thousand, a city of over half a million is bound to get your attention, Blade thought as she followed the group down the street. Even she had to admit that for an industrial sector there was a lot of activity considering how late it was—griffons were still flying through the sky, and the place was hardly quiet—but it definitely was going to be a lot more active when daylight came.

We might have to have her sit outside for a while, as much as I’d rather not do that, Blade thought as they moved away from the industrial area and into the shadow of one of the pillars. Or at least near a window. Get it out of her system. We need her mind on the mission.

Then again ... she thought as she looked closer. There was a slightly sharp edge to Frost’s gaze, as if the dangerous, deadly mare that Blade knew was lurking just under the surface. Maybe she’ll be just fine.

But it wouldn’t hurt to let the mare see a bit of the city. Especially if they could do it without being seen. Also, we need freshwater prawns.

They turned onto a side street, moving closer towards the base of the nearest pillar. It was quieter than the pillars nearby, with less light. Underfoot, the stone became smoother, more well worn. The homes grew a little nicer looking, standing taller, with more intricate designs to their construction. Everything felt newer, more recent.

“So,” Books said as they turned onto an even smaller street. Blade glanced at him, but the pegasus had the sense to keep his voice low. “We’re almost there, but before I bid you guys goodnight, what do you need that I can get for you? I’ll have it here first thing in the morning, if I can.” He stopped outside a small but well-built two-story stone home, its windows dark.

“We need a few things,” Blade said, looking up at the house. “Is this it?” she asked.

“Yep,” Books said. “Let me show you around.” He trotted up the short walkway to the front door and procured a key from somewhere among his wing feathers. There was a heavy click as the door unlocked, far heavier a sound than she would have expected.

More weight behind that door than it looks like it has, Blade thought as she watched Books shoulder it open. After spending so much time around doors that slid from one side to the other, it almost seemed odd to see a door that opened like … well, a door. Books waved them inside, his wingtip brushing a switch on the wall as did. The light flickered on.

“Okay,” Blade said, nodding as she stepped inside and took a quick look at the front room. “Not bad.”

“I thought so,” Books said as the rest of the group filed in. There was a slight touch of pride to his voice. “I’ll admit, when I was told to build another safe house about a year ago, I was reading a lot of adventure novels, so I went a little overboard with what basically amounts to a storage shed, but …”

“No,” Hain said, nodding in agreement as he pushed the door shut. “I like it. Utilitarian, but with purpose.”

At some point, the home had been intended for the typical griffon family. The interior was wide and open, with a high ceiling that opened up to a second story which looked to just be rooms. Wide, open doorways connected the main rooms to one another, and there was a decent spread of furniture. A stone staircase near the entrance marked the path upwards for those who lacked wings.

Except that things were off. The walls were mostly clear, bereft of any clan or family heirlooms. Instead one wall was dominated by a massive chalkboard, the kind that could have been found in any classroom. The wide, open doorways had each been fitted with a heavy stone door, complete with a deadbolt lock, and though all of them were open, Blade could see that care had been taken with the furniture so that each of the doors could swing closed without hitting anything. The rugs underfoot were tightly woven, and seemed to be weighted along the edges so that they wouldn’t kick up easily. Even the open space above them had been utilized: a large cargo net had been stretched across a decent portion of it, opening it up for usage as a storage area.

“Wow,” Blade said. “You weren’t kidding.” Even the furniture was purposeful—she could see from the way that much of it was sitting that it was designed to either fold up or serve as additional storage space. “Is there a secret entrance?”

“Two, actually,” Books said. “One leads to the alley on the side of the house. The other down into a chunk of the sewer system that we walled off and rerouted. It’ll take you to the next neighborhood over.”

“Okay,” she said, sitting back on her haunched. “I’m impressed. That’s pretty spy novel. Ever use it?”

“Actually yes,” Books said, though he looked embarrassed. “But mostly to store boxes. You’ll be the first ones to actually use it.”

“Amenities?” Hain asked, walking across the front room and into what looked like a kitchen.

“It’s all there. Fridge is stocked. Water is running,” Books said. Then he let out a long yawn. “Anyway, there are rooms and cots for everyone, and some of the furniture can fold out into a nice bench. I need to get some sleep, so, before I go …” He turned towards Blade. “What do you need?”

“At the moment,” Blade said, feeling a faint yawn building in the back of her own throat. “Just information. Local papers—”

“I can get those.”

“Some history books on the the immortals. Detailed stuff.”

Books looked puzzled, but he nodded. “Okay.”

“And we need to know whether or not an airship has arrived here in Sheerwater at all in the last few weeks, or if it hasn’t, we need to know the moment it comes in. The Superiority. Don’t ask around about it—at least not with anyone you don’t trust. If it’s docked somewhere, don’t go check it out. Or get too close. Just let us know where.”

“All right.” The last bit of instructions had him looking a little worried, but she pressed on.

“Also, a map of the city.”

“Anything else?”

She thought for a moment. “Keep your eyes on the currents. If something unusual is going on, let us know about it?”

“How unusual? You mean like the king’s daughter sneaking out or—?”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “Like … oh, someone going missing who shouldn’t be. Something that shakes up the underside of the city. That gets everyone wondering. Make sense?”

“Yeah,” Books said. “I think so.” He had a slightly alarmed look on his face. “Should I be worried about all this?”

“Not if it’s going to get in the way of being you,” Blade said, placing a pair of talons on his back and guiding him towards the door. “If all goes well, you won’t have to deal with us after a day or two, and it’ll be like we were never here.”

“And if things don’t go well?” Hain asked as soon as she’d shut the door behind the slightly panicked-looking pegasus.

“Then we get to find out how well our new aide does when he’s thrown into a real-life adventure novel, don’t we?” Blade said, finally taking the moment to let her yawn out. “Anyway, I don’t know about you, but I’m ready to pick a bench or a nest or whatever and call it a night.”

Hain nodded. “I know the feeling. Waiting around all day makes you tired.”

“Well then,” Blade said, eyeing the upper rooms and wondering if any of them had been furnished with a more traditional griffon bed. “In that case, let’s get some sleep.”

“After all, we’ve got a lot to do tomorrow.”

Count of Laws Broken: 4
Total Laws Broken: 90
Damage Value (In Bits): 0
Total Damage Value (In Bits): 390,941

Chapter 25 - The Hunt

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Sheerwater - The Safe House

Blade looked up from her breakfast as the front door let out a heavy click, the lock disengaging. A moment later the door eased open, early dawn light spilling through the opening as their pegasus guide from the day before pushed his way inside.

“Morning,” Blade said as Books shut the door with a rear hoof, the lock clicking once more. “You’re here early.”

“And you’re up even earlier,” Books said.

“I didn’t actually need a lot of sleep last night,” Blade said as the pegasus crossed the room. “So I got up early, thought I’d fix breakfast. Want some?” she asked, holding up a forkful of omelet as Books sat down.

“No thank you,” the pegasus said. “I already ate this morning.”

“Well, nice job stocking the kitchen for griffons, anyway,” Blade said, dropping her fork to the plate with a metal ring. “H—my friend is in there now fixing himself up something,” she said, catching herself before she used Hain’s name. “We’re probably going to have to send the other two members of our group out for some more pony-favored palate though.”

“Right,” Books said, giving her a nervous grin. “Sorry about that. Like I said, I didn’t know—”

“It’s fine,” she said, shaking her head and picking up her fork once more. “We were going to be out anyway.” There was a rattle from the kitchen area, followed by a sharp, crackling hiss as something made contact with a hot surface.

“So,” she said, her eyes shifting to the pile of papers on books back, as well as his bulging saddlebags. “I assume you’ve got some stuff for us?”

“Um …” The scent of meat frying from the kitchen seemed to have momentarily caught him off-guard, though again Blade wasn’t sure if it was intentional or just a mask the stallion had put on to make her more comfortable.

“Yes,” Books said, shaking his head and turning to pull the pile of papers from his shoulders. “First,” he said, grabbing the rough twine holding the bundle of papers together and tossing the whole stack on the table. “I looked up that airship of yours.” For a moment Blade felt a spike of panic, but then she realized he was talking about the Superiority, not the ship she and the rest of the team had stolen.

“And?” she asked, waiting. Please let us have beaten it here.

“An airship with the name you gave me arrived two days ago as of this morning,” Books said. “It’s still docked inside the city.”

Blade’s sense of elation plummeted, her shoulders slumping even as her wings flared out. “Dang,” she said, dropping her fork down to her plate and scowling. “I was really hoping we’d beaten—” She looked up, catching herself before she said more than Books probably wanted to hear. “Nevermind,” she said, settling her wings back against her back. “Nothing we can’t deal with.”

“Right,” Books said, once again looking a little nervous. “Did you want me to ask around a little bit more about it? I could talk to the dock crew. It’s over at the Stonewell Pillar dock. I could—”

“No,” she said, perhaps a little more sharply than she’d intended. Books flinched in surprise, his ears going flat.

“No,” she said again, this time deliberately keeping the edge in her voice. “Don’t go anywhere near that airship, do you understand me? Don’t ask about it anymore, don’t go to that dock if you can help it, and if anyone else asks after you because you were looking for it, you hide. Are we clear?”

“Are ... Are you serious?” Books asked, his voice slightly shaky.

“Very,” she said. The last thing we need is for someone to tip our hand. Or to get involved in this. If Anubis didn’t kill him … The memory of the behemoth they’d faced in the vault leapt to mind, and she had to force herself to not shudder. “Just trust me. While we want information; you don’t want to get involved in this.”

“Right,” Books said, his eyes darting down towards the stack of newspapers. “Then I won’t!” He let out a nervous laugh. “Anyway, here’s the papers you wanted.”

She reached out and pulled the stack over, one claw easily slicing through the heavy twine. “Quite the stack,” she said, flipping through the pile and glancing at the headlines. It was nice to see her native written language again. Apparently something called the “Crystal Empire” had sprung up in Equestria and the markets were freaking out over it. She made a mental note to look over the stories in more depth later. “How many did you get?” she asked as she neared the bottom of the stack, moving from the thicker, more all-encompassing papers to the smaller, more specific writs.

“Just over a dozen,” Books said. “Some of them are day-olds from other places in the Empire—I wasn’t sure if you just wanted the newest, most important stuff or not.”

“It’s fine,” she said, reaching the bottom and then pushing the papers aside. “I’ve been off the grid for a few weeks anyway. It’ll be nice to get caught up.” Not that it’ll take my mind off of what I’m in the middle of. “What else?”

“Maps of the city,” Books said, flipping a clasp on his saddlebags open and pulling out a small stack of pamphlets. “I grabbed you a dozen of them, just in case you felt like marking a few up.”

“‘Sheerwater Tourism Department,’” Blade read as she saw the front of the folded pamphlets. “Nice.”

“Better than nice, actually,” Books said, holding one of them up. “Full color, bilingual, with two maps of the city, one on each side—one for the highlights, the other your more typical map. Plus a guide of good-to-know locations.”

“Like airship docks?” Blade asked.

“Yes,” Books said, nodding. “Also …” He procured a pen from somewhere among his bags and then made a quick circle on the map. “This is where the safe house is located,” he said, tapping the circle with the edge of his hoof.

“We’re not too far from the city center,” Blade said as she looked down at it. “Only about two miles.”

“It’s a good location for a reason,” Books said. “But now you know where it is, in case you need to mark it for your fellows.”

“Good,” she said, nodding as the pegasus reached for his bags.

“Now,” he said, tugging them over his head and dumping what was left of their contents out onto the table with a series of heavy thuds. “I won’t ask you to pay me back, seeing as I’m just going to file this under ‘work-related costs’ anyway, but here’s the books you asked for. In Equestrian, though. It was easier that way.”

“Ah,” Blade said as she picked up one of the first books on the pile. It was titled A Brief History of the Immortals, though judging from the weight, the only way it was going to be anything close to ‘brief’ were if the text was large enough for a blind griffon to read. “Good.”

He must have picked up on the tone in her voice. “Isn’t that what you asked for?”

“I—No, it is,” she said, catching herself. “It just suddenly dawned on me exactly how much reading this is going to be. I’m probably going to spend all day in here looking through this.”

“Looking at what?” Hain asked as he walked into the room, a platter of steaming food held in one claw, still sizzling on the hot stone he’d used to cook it. His eyes darted over the table. “Oh,” he said, settling himself on one of the benches. “Yeah, that’s a lot.”

“And I actually like reading history,” Blade said, picking up another one of the books and glancing at the cover. Mortal Playthings. Missing Legends. The Wars of the Plainslands. “I think I’ll start with this one,” she said, pulling the book on the Plainslands out of the pile and setting it aside. “After I get done with the papers anyway.”

“I’ll help,” Hain said with a glance at the stack of papers. “You’re right, there’s a lot here. And two sets of eyes is better than one.”

“Right,” Blade said, nodding before turning back towards Books. “Thanks,” she said. “Anything else?”

“No,” Books said. “I was sure that was all you asked for. What did I forget?”

“Nothing big,” Blade said. “Unusual news?”

“Oh.”

“Also, if we need a way to contact you—”

“There’s a place you can reach me at in the event you need something else,” Books said, producing a card from somewhere and setting it on the table. “Simply go to this address and give them the message. They’ll know who you’re talking about. And now,” he said, standing and giving his wings a little twitch before tossing his now-empty saddlebags back across his back. “I need to get to work for the day. Best of luck with whatever it is you’re doing.”

“You too,” Blade said as the pegasus began walking towards the door. He passed the stairs as Alchemy trotted down them, the two acknowledging one another with curt nods, and then a moment later he was gone.

“Wow,” Alchemy said as he sat down on the bench that had Books had vacated. “He bring all that to look over?”

“Yep,” Blade said, giving the back of the book she’d been looking at one last glance before leaning down and biting another chunk off of her omelet. “Food’s in the kitchen. Not much for a pony though.”

“That’s fine,” Alchemy said. “I can get some when I’m out.”

“You were already planning on it?” Blade asked.

He nodded. “I was thinking about it, and while you and Hain might blend in from a distance, Frost and I are a bit more distinct. You know, being ponies and all. So I was thinking of maybe getting us something to wear. Maybe pick up a few extra ingredients and brew up a mane dye or something.”

“Good thinking,” Hain said, looking up from his breakfast. “Take Frost with you.”

Alchemy seemed to hesitate. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Hain said before Blade could say anything, and he glanced at her before turning his attention back towards Alchemy. “She needs to get used to the city if we’re going to be here for long. Last night had her looking in every direction and halfway to being overwhelmed. She’ll need to get used to being around so many and in a city so big.”

“And you want me to help her get used to it?” Alchemy said. “I can do that, I think. I can at least show her around.”

“And maybe help her get her mind off of things,” Hain said. “She’s been under a lot of pressure—”

“I can hear you, you know,” Frost said from upstairs, her voice echoing around the room. “This house doesn’t muffle sound too well.”

“And my point still stands,” Hain said as Frost walked down the stairs, her purple eyes cutting across the room. “You need to get used to walking around a city with a half a million sapients living in it. And you need something to get your mind off of everything else it's been on. I’ve seen kits wound tighter than a spring enough times to know that eventually they snap. Now,” he said as Frost took the last bench around the table. “Are you going to disagree? Because if you are I want you to look me in the eye and tell me I’m wrong.”

“No,” Frost said after a moment’s hesitation. “I’ll go with Alchemy.”

“Good,” Hain said, looking back down at his meal. “That’s all I have to say on the matter. Blade?”

“What?” All eyes switched in her direction and she gulped down her latest bite of eggs. “Oh. Yeah, he’s right, Frost. You’re not used to the city.” And a bit of relaxation couldn’t hurt. “Plus you and Al are pretty distinct.”

“What about you, though?” Frost asked. “You’ve got those long talons and the red coloration, and Hain is … well …”

“I’m also old,” Hain said from between bites. “I got a dye job. It just took three decades.”

“Plus, the odds are low that anyone will actually recognize him unless they get a close look,” Blade said. “Same goes for me; red feathers aren’t exactly uncommon.”

“Fine,” Frost said, her expression still frozen. “Maybe a hat.”

Blade shrugged, grabbing the topmost of the newspapers and looking down at the headline. “Whatever you want,” she said. “But a hat is a good idea. It’ll keep your horn covered. Get a dye-job for yourself, and anyone who knows us would have a pretty hard time realizing it was you unless you either told them or gave them a good look.”

“What about you using your name?” Frost asked. “Shouldn’t you not be telling Books who you are? After all, we aren’t letting him know Hain’s name.”

“That’s because Hain’s name is an instant mark of who he is and would see all of us arrested along with him,” Blade said. “In my case, it’s a risk. My name carries weight. But here, it’s a different kind of weight. I’m a wandering claw, and my name might open doors we wouldn’t have otherwise. Your name, however, as well as Alchemy’s … the longer we keep those quiet, the longer chance that someone somewhere won’t repeat them.”

“Besides,” she said, looking back down at the paper. “If my name comes up, all it says is that I’m back in the Empire. It doesn’t say whether I’m here on a job or not.”

Frost didn’t reply, and after a moment Blade heard her rise and walk towards the kitchen. Apparently she was satisfied with the answer. A moment later, Alchemy followed her.

Well, hopefully they find the selection broad enough, Blade thought as she stared down at the headline. Two weeks ago it would have been mind-boggling, an entire city appearing in the middle of the northern reaches of Equestria, full of citizens that, according to the article, had been thrown out of time as the result of a magical battle over a thousand years ago. But now, after awakening an ancient immortal that had been locked away for almost two-thousand years, it just seemed like one more example of the world becoming a wilder place.

What’s next, she wondered as she scanned over the rest of the front page. Ancient demons? Ancient armies? Invaders from another world? She glanced over the material that had been pushed to the bottom of the front page by the announcement of the ancient city. There was a bit about how a new trade deal was being reached with the Plainslands, a short blurb about a new company in Equestria that was promising to “revolutionize” industry, with a quick blurb to find the article further inside the paper. A short headline blaring about a break-in at the Imperial Genealogical building with a note that the full story was on page nine.

Nothing interesting or relevant, she thought, opening the paper. At least, not that I can see. She began scanning over the interior of the paper, running her eyes over everything, even the letters to the editor, checking for any sign of something.

There has to be a reason he came here, Blade thought as she ran over a letter complaining about the recent outflux of diamond dog workers. Sheerwater’s been around for twenty-two hundred years, so it was definitely around before he got sealed. Could he have hidden something here? Left something here? It was hard to imagine that in the time that had passed since Anubis had been gone something like that wouldn’t have been found, but still …

Maybe he’s just here because it’s a familiar sight, she thought as she flipped another page, and then another. It’s someplace he’d recognize. Frost and Alchemy came back from the kitchen, low voices passing between them as they sat down once more and began eating something that was sizzling away on another hot stone. She glanced up just long enough to see that they’d raided what looked to be the kitchen’s entire vegetable supply and then turned her attention back to the paper.

They’ll need to get some food while they're out, she thought as she flipped another page. Much of the paper wasn’t proving to be too informative. Most of it seemed to be concerned with the economic impact of Equestria gaining a new city and province almost overnight, and as fascinating as it was, she knew she didn’t have time to waste reading through all of the associated articles.

Still, she thought as she flipped another page, skimming over military and clan-focused news items. If Anubis has been active, there’s bound to be something.

If he hadn’t been active though, and had gone into hiding or skipping out of the city, the only way they’d know would be by finding someone who was willing to talk. And that could be difficult, especially if he kept quiet about it.

If that happened, and they lost his trail, the only option they’d have would be to go back to Equestria and try to explain. Or at the very least send a notice while they moved to hunt Anubis down.

Can we really do that, though? She wondered as she reached the end of the paper. I mean, Ahuizotl has been moving around the world causing trouble since the immortals split, and he’s still kicking. She set the paper aside and grabbed the next one on the stack. Hain picked up the one she’d just abandoned and began to flip through it.

Then again, she thought as she glanced over the front headlines. More of the same, all about the Crystal Empire place. Ahuizotl keeps his profile low deliberately. He doesn’t make waves, doesn’t mess with the high-flyers, and keeps his rivalries bound to short-term, mortal disputes. And he plays by rules.

Anubis though … She flipped the paper open as she gulped down the last of her breakfast. He doesn’t strike me as the type to plan small. Articles and headlines slipped by beneath her eyes, but none of them seemed remotely related. More articles on the effect of a new province in Equestria. Articles debating the latest trade deals with the Plainslands. A minor skirmish in the Minotaur lands over some stolen equipment. Another article discussing the lessening diamond dog numbers and the effect on industry.

Come on. The paper ended, its pages having revealed nothing useful. She grabbed the next one.

More on Equestria. An ad for an airship cruise. Another ad for a new type of armor plating, developed in conjunction with the minotaurs. An announcement of opening bids on a surplus of Equestrian crystal.

Nothing that looked remotely like anything tied to their quarry. Nothing out of the—Wait!

She stopped, her talons halfway through flipping a page over, and folded the thin paper back to the prior page. What was that? Blocks of text stared up at her; small headlines. It was a criminal activity report.

Mausoleum broken into, the report read. Authorities are investigating the apparent entering and desecration of an ancient clan crypt that occurred late last night. The crypt, which stood undisturbed for almost fifteen hundred years, was broken into by unknown individuals for an unknown purpose. The damage was found this morning by the graveyard’s caretaker. There have been rumors that the graves themselves may have been disturbed and bodies taken, but as of this time the Sheerwater guard has not confirmed the rumors, saying only in a release that the crypt itself was opened and that the inside had suffered vandalism in some form. The Imperial Genealogical Society was on claw to—

Hang on, Blade thought, stopping. Wasn’t there a story about them on the front page of the other paper? She looked up to see Hain flipping through it.

—on claw to examine the damage, the article continued. As the mausoleum in question no longer has an attending clan, maintenance and upkeep of the sealed crypt fell to the society following their founding over eight-hundred years—

She jumped ahead, scanning through the rest of the article. This was it. She could feel it. Crypts. Vault. Moving skeletons. A faint tingle of fear began working its way through her insides. I’ll bet they find a number of the skeletons missing in there. He’s doing it again, just like he did in the vault.

The article ended without any conclusive information and she looked up at Hain. “I found something,” she said. Frost and Alchemy came to a sudden stop, their meals halfway eaten.

“What?” Hain asked. She passed the paper to him and tapped the page.

“Someone broke into a crypt,” she said. ‘And they mention something from the front page of the paper you’re reading.”

“What?”

“Pass it here,” she said, taking the paper from him and flipping it back to the first page. “The Imperial Genealogical Society’s main records building was the subject of a break-in last night,” she read. “At this time it is not known what the cause of the break in was or how it was perpetrated, but it was carried out without any of the guards noticing anything amiss until the morning.”

“A genealogical society?” Frost asked, puzzlement on her face.

“And someone breaks into a crypt the same night, one that the society is responsible for,” Hain said, nodding. “That does seem pretty compelling.”

“But why the genealogical society?” Alchemy said.

“Bones,” Blade said. “Remember the skeletons we fought in the vault? The report says that it looks like the bodies were disturbed, maybe even missing.”

“So?” Alchemy countered. “He could get bones anywhere. I’m with you on the missing bones thing, but why an old crypt?” The earth pony let the question hang in the air, as if waiting for someone else to come to the same conclusion he had.

“Maybe he was looking for something else,” Frost said, nodding. “How old was that crypt?”

“At least fifteen-hundred years, according to this,” Hain said, setting the paper down. “Been in its current ownership for eight-hundred years.”

“And it sounds like it hadn’t had living owners for some time before that,” Blade said, nodding as her mind made the connection. “You think Anubis is in Sheerwater because he left something here?” she asked, looking at Alchemy.

The earth pony shook his head. “I don’t know. Maybe?” It sounded more like an admission that it was possible than an agreement. “There was ancient griffon writing on that key. And around the vault.”

“From sixteen-hundred years ago,” Blade said, frowning. “If the mausoleum is that old—No.” She shook her head.

“No?” Frost asked.

“It's logical, but we’re going on complete theories here,” she said. “We don’t want to jump ahead. We can’t afford to jump ahead. It’s a good thought, Alchemy,” she said, glancing in his direction. “But it doesn’t give us enough to go off of. We need more information.”

“Isn’t that what these are for?” Frost said, one hoof tapping the pile of books in the center of the table.

“Partially,” Blade said, passing the paper back towards Hain and trying to think. “All right, here’s what we need to do. Hain and I will stay here and pour through all of this.” She tapped her talon against the tabletop. “You two head out and get some clothes and whatever ingredients you need for the dye. Take a wrap of reeds with you so you can cover everything. Pick up some food that’ll suit your palate a bit better too. Bring all that stuff back.”

“Okay.”

“And then,” Blade said, “I want you both to go down to the Genealogical Society Headquarters. Don’t try anything overt. But I want to see if you can get some information on the crypt that was broken into. You might not be the first one either. And if it’s around the same age as our prey, see if you can get a list of other tombs flying the same winds. Not that just that old, but that old and abandoned.”

“Abandoned?” Frost asked.

“Clanless,” Blade said, nodding. “It’s what happens when a clan dies out. Sometimes the crypt gets taken over by another clan. Sometimes it’s just left alone.”

“You think that might be part of it?”

“I don’t know,” Blade said, grabbing another paper from the stack and looking at it. “But at this point, we need to go off of whatever we can get.”

“Right,” Frost said, sinking back onto the bench in thought. “Then why don’t I stay here and help with going through all of this?” A purple glow wrapped itself around one of the history books, and it floated into the air, spinning so that its face was towards the mare. “After all,” she said. “Alchemy can handle himself and is more familiar with the city. I would be … distracted.”

Blade glanced at Hain. “Are you sure?” she asked.

“A little distraction might be good for you,” Hain said. “Looking around the city could be pretty unique.”

Frost shook her head as the book opened up. “I disagree,” she said. “At least to the idea that we should do both at the same time.”

“You might not like the clothes I pick for you,” Alchemy said and Frost shook her head.

“Then don’t,” she said. “How about this? You go and get the materials you need, stop by that genealogical society and … whatever else it was that we needed to do.”

“Food,” Alchemy said.

“Right,” she said. “Food. You go get that, and I’ll stay here and help these two research.”

“Okay.”

“Then, after you get everything, you come back and share what you’ve learned, we correlate and then, once I’ve been dyed, you and I go out and I get to see the city and …” Her mouth twisted like the word was foreign to her. “Relax.” She looked up at Blade. “Fair enough?”

Blade shrugged. Makes sense to me. A glance at Hain told her that the old general felt the same way. “All right,” she said, nodding. “That works, and it will make finding some useful information in this pile of history a bit easier. That is,” she said, glancing at Alchemy. “If you think you can handle checking out the society and maybe even the crypt site on your own.”

Alchemy nodded. “As long as I’ve got a map, it shouldn’t be too hard to find either of them. Well, at least the genealogical building.”

“Then it’s settled,” Frost said. “I’ll stay here, and we’ll take care of relaxation after we correlate our information. And then, once we know what’s going on?” A cold grin spread across her face. “Then we catch ourselves an immortal.”

* * *

This is … interesting, Frost thought as she rolled onto her back atop the cargo netting, the history book she’d grabbed from the table clutched in her magic. It was packed with page upon page of thick, tiny text, making use of every inch of the available space. I never knew there was so much history behind … well … everything.

It wasn’t that Aeliana and Barnabas hadn’t educated her. Sure, it had been piecemeal, but they’d done their best to raise her well. They’d taught her to read, write, do math … crud, they’d even left her in the care of some of the teachers when they’d been forced to leave her behind to go on missions, and those teachers had done a pretty good job at filling in the blanks. At the same time …

The world is just so large, she thought as she glanced over at the image on the far side of the page. It was an artist’s conception, since there were no direct examples left of the individual in question’s looks, but the image itself was fairly clear. It was a massive female minotaur, gargantuan in stature and build. She knew who it was, though she’d never actually seen a picture of her before. Asterion, the immortal minotaur. Aeliana had told stories about her once or twice.

But she’d never gone into nearly as much detail as the book contained. There were chapters devoted to the minotaur immortal. Chapters!

She resisted the urge to read the rest of the chapter and instead flipped through the pages, heading towards the number that had been printed in the contents. There’s just so many, she thought as she flipped past the names. Reus. Kyr. Celestia. Luna. Zawati. And so few left.

That event her history education had covered, though not in anything approaching the level of detail that the book she now held did. She knew the basics, however, how the Creator had left the world in the care of the immortals, assigning them the task of watching and caring for the various races and making sure that everyone lived the best they could during their mortal lives, until the Creator returned for them. How the immortals had undergone a falling out, splitting when some of them had decided that it was all a ruse, that the Creator was never coming back. How many of them had struck out on their own, either for power, or glory, or just out of selfish interest, cracking apart some of the early civilizations and warring with one another. An immortal would live forever … provided someone didn’t cut their life short deliberately.

That’s the kind of being you’re facing right now, she reminded herself as the pages flipped to the chapter she was looking for. The kind of being who was alive for all of that, participated in it, and yet survived—somehow—until today.

A shiver ran through her body. The list was short indeed of beings that had survived those times. Celestia. Luna. Discord. A few others—some missing, perhaps dead; others hiding.

And you’re facing down one of the survivors. A survivor that killed your brother. She felt the familiar hollow start to build in her chest, but it was … well, not easy, but certainly doable, to push it back, to let it metamorphose and change into a burning drive to learn everything she could about her foe.

I will keep your promise, Barns, she thought as her vision blurred slightly, obscuring her view of the pages. I will.

She blinked a few times, clearing her eyes and getting a good look at the chapter she’d opened to. A fierce, dangerous looking jackal face stared up at her from the pages, slightly different from the one that had been fixed in her mind for the last week or two, but it was close enough.

Anubis, she read. Immortal of the Jackal race. A shrewd and dangerous being who was feared for his ruthless disposability of those he considered beneath him and his contempt for those mortal. Like many immortals who have long since passed, it is hard to separate truth from fiction when it comes to accounts of his capabilities and power ...

She read on, plowing through the brief introduction and then moving into a historical record—which, the text warned her, was largely unconfirmed. Anubis had been known for hiding in the shadows and only moving when he felt the need, which meant that he had a tendency to disappear from the historical record for decades at a time before making a grand appearance when the time was right.

But the appearances … she read through the account with mounting horror. He hadn’t just killed sapients … he’d toppled nations—even his own.

By building up his reputation as a “god of death” among the jackal monarchy, the book read, Anubis was able to sway the country towards war with the then peaceful Plainslands, who were still reeling from the death of Zawati some two-hundred years earlier. Anubis drove the jackal nation to an almost fever pitch, using his ability to animate the bones of the dead to bolster their army and spread terror far and wide. The rest of the immortals, occupied with their own battles, were too busy to step in, and Anubis may have calculated on taking the Plainslands as the first step of a larger victory. The war bit deeply in the zebra territories, several times threatening the capital itself.

However, it was not to be. After holding out for almost thirty years, the zebra army rallied, making a series of critical victories on the battlefield that left the jackal army scattered and weakened. Anubis refused surrender and pressed onward, according to legend slaying those who dared dispute his orders. He even took to the battlefield himself, killing hundreds and adding their skeletons to his macabre army of bones. But the zebras had been pushed too far, and even Anubis himself could not turn the fallen tide of the war. He fled, leaving the zebra nation to burn the jackal capital behind him as the last of his cultists fought to the death.

Well, she thought. That certainly explains why you don’t see many jackals anymore. There was a sidenote that she glanced at, one dedicated to her exact thoughts, and she skimmed over it, coming to the summary at the bottom that some were worried the jackal species might die out in another few centuries.

Anubis broke them, Frost thought as she turned the page. Completely. Their culture. Their lives. Everything.

She let her eyes slide down the next column, the words flying past. Anubis’s disappearance after the fall of the jackals, theories on his next two decades as he appeared here and there—She paused, her eyes widening as she read the text.

Bingo, she thought as she reread the line. That’s why he’s here! That’s what he’s looking for! It wasn’t much, just a single line before the history moved on to his defeat at the hooves of Celestia and Luna.

“Blade!” she said, her voice echoing through the open space. “I found it!”

“Found what?” Blade called.

“What Anubis might be looking for,” she said, rolling onto her hooves and using her magic to steady the wide netting as she made her way back to the upper level stairs. “It’s right here.”

“Well, what is it?” Blade was sitting in the same place she had been that morning, a pile of books spread out in front of her. Hain was gone, probably in his room or enjoying the burning hot sun up on the roof. Insanity.

“Followers,” Frost said, pushing the thought of how hot it was outside from her mind and holding the book out in front of her. “According to this book, after he abandoned the jackals, Anubis went around setting up ‘death cults.’ Followers that were completely devoted to him.”

“What is it with ancient villains and cults?” Blade muttered as she plucked the book out of the air. “Is it too much for them to just rely on a standard command structure like normal mortals?”

Frost didn’t offer an answer. The tone in the griffon’s voice had made it entirely clear that the question wasn’t intended to have one.

“Rumored to have established death cults in several nations, including Saddle Arabia, the minotaur marauders of the Talmoss and …” Blade shook her head as she read the last lines. “—among the griffon clans. Thunderheads.” She dropped the book and looked up at Frost. “I guess he wasn’t just speaking for effect when he said that griffons had built him the vault.”

“It would explain the the ancient writing on the vault,” Frost said. “It was Griffon.”

“Yeah, well I was hoping that was just for convenience,” Blade said. “Or that maybe they’d built it to seal him and Anubis was just trying to mess with us. Throw us off balance. But if he was founding cults ...” She let her words trail off, the full implications sinking in.

“Maybe they betrayed him after they realized what he was up to,” Frost said, shrugging. “Maybe it was all a trap. Which could make him coming here a revenge scheme, although to be honest it doesn’t feel like that. It didn’t even feel like he was that upset about being locked away to start with.”

Blade nodded. “Fair point. All right then. Griffon death cult theory.” She tapped the table with one claw. “Let’s check the other books, see if there’s anything more on it.”

“Right,” Frost said, nodding as she picked up several of the other texts with her magic, opening all of them simultaneously and flipping to the index. Or at least, what most of them had as an index; some of them were pitifully small.

Cults, cults, cult … okay, she thought as she eyed the rather lengthy entries in each of the tomes, Blade’s prior question ringing through her mind. Maybe cults, death?

One of the four books had a hit. Not too surprising, since it was the largest of the four she’d grabbed. She flipped the book to the proper page, setting the others down with their indexes still open. After the defeat of the jackal monarchy at the hooves of the zebra … she read, her eyes skimming over the text. She reached the end of the paragraph and shook her head.

Nothing new, she thought, pushing the book away and turning her attention to the others. Maybe if there wasn’t anything under “cults, death,” there would be something under “death, cults of?”

Nothing. She flipped a page or two back, finding the heading for “Anubis,” and checked under that. “Anubis, cults of,” came up empty, and the brief sense of elation that arose with “Anubis, followers of” faded when she opened two of the books to their pages and found nothing but a discussion of the jackal kingdom.

Come on, she thought as she skimmed over the page, her eyes scanning every word just in case there was some mention that was relevant. Surely someone dug into who those other cults might have been made up of? She reached the end of the page, flipped it, and …

Nothing. The chapter went right into a discussion of some of the varied accounts and theories concerning the disappearance and assumed death of Anubis after Celestia and Luna had set their sights on him. She skimmed over the accounts, mostly noting that the Princesses themselves were fairly tight-lipped on the matter and much of the various theories put forth seemed to be largely speculation.

Come on, she thought as she reached the end of the chapter. That can’t be it!

But it was. The next chapter was about Discord and his rule over Equestria. There was nothing in it concerning Anubis. She snapped the book shut and pushed it away, Blade looking up at her at the sharp sound.

“Nothing?” she asked.

“Not in that one,” Frost said, giving the book a scowl for good measure. “You’d think somepony would have bothered to look into something like that.”

“Well, most of these are pretty general history books,” Blade said, her head tilting back down towards the book she had been looking at. “Something like that is more likely to be an academic study.”

“Academic? You’re referring to a college, correct?” Frost asked. “An institute of higher learning?”

Blade nodded. “They’re the types that research the sort of stuff that goes into these books, but they get really into it. They’ve probably got whole papers and much more stuffy books dedicated to things like that last battle between the jackals and the zebras.”

“Why not get a bunch of those then?” Frost asked, reaching out and grabbing the first book, the one she’d set aside. Maybe she’d missed something when she’d poured over it.

“They’re expensive for one thing,” Blade said. “Also, not usually for sale. We’d have to go to a university. But it is a good idea.”

“Especially if it gives us any clues as to what Anubis might be doing here,” Frost said, reaching the end of the section in disappointment. Nothing.

“That or we find out on our own,” Blade said, frowning. “I’d rather not take that last one. Maybe I should make a stop at one of the universities this evening.”

“One?” Frost paused, her magic halfway through turning the page. The way Barns and Aeliana had spoken about them, it had always seemed that they were rare things. “There’s more than one?”

“Here in Sheerwater? Of course,” Blade said. “Culturally we’re more reliant on apprenticeships for a lot of jobs, but there’s still a place for academic research and study.”

“I thought universities were rare,” she said.

“Well … they are,” Blade said. “But we’re in the capital city of the Griffon Empire. The Empire itself covers almost seven million square kilometers. Sheerwater itself has something like six-hundred thousand griffons living in it.” Frost felt her jaw drop in shock. Her magic winked out, the book she’d been holding with its pages half-turned falling to the table.

“Sorry,” Blade said, shaking her head as if it was something to apologize for. “I keep forgetting that you grew up on the Ocean.”

“No, I …” She wasn’t sure how to put what she was thinking into words. “I knew the Griffon Empire was large, and that the Ocean wasn’t that big, but …”

“I know,” Blade said, nodding. “It just takes a bit to sink in. Trust me, I boggled a bit when I first arrived here too.”

“It didn’t feel that big,” she said, shaking her head. “I mean, it did, but …”

“It’s easy for a big city to feel small when you’re shooting through it on a train,” Blade said, shrugging.

“Yes.” An out. She would take it. “I just hadn’t realized …” She shook her head. “Regardless of my lack of familiarity or experience … How many universities does Sheerwater have?”

“Two,” Blade said. “Unless they opened another since the last time I was here. One is funded by the ruling clan and attached to the Empire National Museum, the other is funded by another clan. I can’t remember which one.”

“The museum is probably the best bet,” Frost said. “That sounds a bit more historical.” She reached out and picked up the book she’d dropped, her magic sliding across the open pages.

“It’s also a bit more public,” Blade said. “And the Caretaker Clan is one of the few places full of historians who would recognize Hain and myself in a heartbeat. Him before me, actually,” she added. “Though either of us would be a poor choice. The last time they saw me, they had … words—not nice ones—about how I handled a job for them.”

“So, in other words, Alchemy or I would be better suited to contacting them,” Frost said, glancing down at the book she’d set aside. “If it comes to that, I—one moment.”

“Find something?” Blade asked as Frost tugged the book closer, eyeing the page. From the number, it was several pages after the excerpt she’d read on the fall of the jackal kingdom. Quite a few pages, actually. The leftmost page was detailing one of the accounts surrounding the immortal’s disappearance, but the other page ...

“I think I did,” she said as she read the page, her eyes widening. It was a small entry, only—she flipped the page to check—less than half a column, but it was there.

“The followers of Anubis?” she read, flipping back to the first page. “The question is part of the heading.”

“Right,” Blade said. “What’s it say?”

“It is interesting to note,” Frost read, “that following his disappearance, rumors continued to persist that members of his ‘death cults’ existed in secret, patiently awaiting their leader’s return.”

“Again with the whole cult thing,” Blade said, and Frost could see the griffon shaking her head. “The Order wasn’t exactly unique, was it?”

“While rumors of these death cults continued to exist for centuries and evidence has come forward to show that there were at least some who were, at one point or another, followers of the immortal,” Frost continued, “little conclusive evidence has been found to substantiate that the stories of an entire clan devoted to the return of the immortal was more than kit’s tales told to young fledglings.”

“However,” she continued, “legends and stories persist even to this day, showing that a clear mark has been left on griffon culture by the ancient immortal. Many modern day myths may have had a root in the rumored ancient followers of Anubis, such as the legend of the Lost City of Turuncu.”

“Wait, what?” Blade asked, her head jerking back in surprise. Frost looked up at her in surprise. “The lost city? How does that tie in?”

“I …” Frost glanced back down at the text. “It doesn’t say. The rest of the text just says that the matter is a continuing area of study.” She looked back up at Blade. “What’s the lost city?”

“The Lost City of Turuncu is an old kit’s tale,” Blade said. “From back before the Founding. According to the story, or what I can remember of it anyway, when King Tallcliff set about unifying all the clans into the Empire, one of the clans that disagreed chose to leave the Empire’s borders rather than submit or fight. They traveled deep into the Turuncu desert, found an oasis, and founded a city right at a prime trade spot between the new Griffon Empire, the Plainslands, and the eastern nations. The story goes on to say that they became a fountain of wealth and prosperity.”

Interesting. “So what about the ‘lost’ part?”

Blade shrugged. “Accounts differ. Depends on who’s telling it. Sometimes the city’s refusal to join with the Empire gets them in trouble with Reus or Kyr—maybe both—who command the desert storms to swallow the city. In other stories it’s the Creator seeking vengeance for something. Sometimes the oasis dries up. Like I said, it varies. Every kit’s probably heard a different version of it. But in the end either way they all get swallowed up by the desert. Sometimes a few griffons survive to limp back to the Empire and admit the error of their ways in betraying the honor of their species.”

“Sounds a bit like a cautionary tale,” Frost said, thinking back on some of the stories she’d been told as a filly. “Kind of like the mare in the moon. Or ice wolves.”

“That first one turned out to be real though,” Blade said before frowning in confusion. “Ice wolves?”

Frost nodded. She could remember the first time Aeliana—no, her parents … could she really think back that far?—had told her the familiar tale. “It’s to keep kids on the Ocean from playing around the ice,” she said. “Touch the ice and the ice wolves will come for you. That kind of thing.”

Blade let out a faint laugh. “Nice. Scare some respect into them,” she said, grinning.

“Yes,” Frost said. “It was a little … different … for me. Though it certainly scared me as a filly.”

“I can imagine.”

“Yes, well,” she said, smirking. “After I got my cutie mark, Barnabas suggested that I pitch in using my … talents … in making the story come alive for some of the younger kids around Cragtooth Heights.” That smile he had on his face when he saw that group of kids come tearing off the docks screaming … She let out a satisfied sigh. Almost as amazing as his own scream of horror when Aeliana caught up to him.

“Huh,” Blade said, jerking her away from her thoughts. “That’s the first time I’ve seen you smile since B—actually,” she said, covering her obvious catch. “Ever?”

“There wasn’t much to smile about on the Ocean,” she said, feeling a sudden pang inside her chest. “Anyway, the lost city?”

“Right,” Blade said, tilting her head from one side to the other. “Not much else to it. City is abandoned, lost to the sands and bam! Lost city of Turuncu.”

“Has anyone ever gone looking for it?”

“Of course,” Blade said. “Probably dozens of expeditions over the years. None of them ever found anything, though.” She leaned back, her wings spreading slightly as she clicked her beak together. “I wonder how that ties in with the stories of Anubis’s followers, though?”

Frost shrugged. “I have no idea,” she admitted. “Maybe something to do with griffons who were against the Empire?”

“I don’t know,” Blade said. “Maybe they’re just connected in the way that your ice wolf story is: Cautionary tales.” Her eyes darted to the book. “Then again, maybe there’s someone we could ask about it at the University. Any mention of who wrote that section of the book?”

“Ah …” She glanced down at the pages in puzzlement. Where do the authors sign their name on a history book?

“Here,” Blade said, reaching across the table and checking something at the top of the page before flipping to the back. “We’re in luck,” she said as she looked down at the page. “The author of that article is a professor at the Empire National Museum. Probably a member of the Caretaker clan.”

“So we can go ask.”

“Yep,” Blade said, passing the book back. “In fact, that might be something you and Alchemy can do later, once he gets back with all his stuff. Again, Hain’s not an option, and I’m going to be busy elsewhere.”

“Doing what?”

“Sleeping,” Blade said. “I’m staking out the Superiority tonight. I want to see if Anubis is still using it as his base of operations of if he’s hiding somewhere in the city.”

“Isn’t that dangerous?”

“I’ll be careful,” Blade said. “And I’m not getting close to that airship. I’m just going to keep an eye on it from a distance.”

She nodded. “Alchemy and I should be able to go speak with this … Professor Stoneweather then. Or at least leave a note.”

“It’s a start,” Blade said. “An old griffon death cult would be a plausible reason for Anubis coming here. Maybe.”

“I don’t get the impression that he would care much for his followers,” Frost said.

“A good point,” Blade said, nodding. “I don’t either. But nice work, all the same. I’m sure it’s something worth looking into. And who knows? Maybe this Stoneweather can tell you a bit more about what these cults were rumored to be up to, or at least go into a bit more detail about who they were.”

“Alchemy and I are getting quite a list of things to look at for our first day here,” Frost said as she rose, the books clutched in her magic. “Clothes, the genealogical society, a crypt, and now a museum.”

“Hey, that last one’s pretty cool,” Blade said as she picked her own book up again. “Museums have some nifty stuff in them, and this one’s no exception.”

“As long as it has something that will help us catch Anubis,” Frost said as she turned for the stairs. Then it’ll all be worth it.

She retreated back to the comfort of the cargo netting, relishing the feel of the wide-spaced net beneath her back. I should sleep here tonight, she thought as she lifted her book above her head. The netting did feel comfortable. It was sort of like sleeping in a hammock, like the one Barnabas and Aeliana had made her when she was—

The hollow feeling swelled inside her chest once more, like a void crying out that she couldn’t ignore it, and for a moment she closed her eyes, pushing back at it. I’m doing what he asked, she thought. I’m doing exactly what he would have wanted. She pushed the empty feeling away, taking in a deep breath as her vision stabilized. I’m keeping focused. I’m fulfilling his last request.

I will kill Anubis.

Count of Laws Broken: 0
Total Laws Broken: 90
Damage Value (In Bits): 0
Total Damage Value (In Bits): 390,941

Chapter 26 - Grand Tour

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Sheerwater - The Safe House

All right, Frost, she told herself. This is it. Bigger than anything you’ve ever experienced. Except the day before, but that had hardly counted. They’d been inside a train, and the city had gone by so fast … Even walking it, it had been night, though it had seemed pretty busy. Or so she had thought. No one else seemed to share the idea. Not that she’d seen.

All right, she thought, taking a deep breath. Alchemy dropped down from the second level, jumping the distance rather than walking and then grinning at her. This is it.

“You know, it’s kind of nice not having to hide that all the time,” Alchemy said, looking at her as he stepped to the doorway. “I’ve never really had a chance to just casually make use of what I can do, I guess. Not like that.”

“You never did back on the Ocean?” she asked.

“There?” Alchemy shook his head, his ears standing straight up. “Not a chance. I even downplayed it when I worked on the boats. I needed to be tough, but never exemplary. I even faked a pulled muscle once, after I helped someone. Wasn’t hard, since I almost ran out of potion doing it, but …” He shook his head. “I already knew I didn’t want anypony else knowing about my condition, and once I heard about the cult, well ...”

“I understand,” she said, nodding. “That must feel liberating. Being able to just be yourself and make use of the capabilities you were given.”

“Yeah,” he said, his face thoughtful. “It really does. Kind of like stretching a muscle, only for everything.” He let out a short laugh. “Which is weird. Before this all started, I didn’t think it’d feel like that. I just wanted to be a doctor.” He shook his head. “Ready?” he asked, gesturing towards her with one hoof.

She took a quick glance back at her saddlebags and nodded. They were flat and empty, sagging against her sides since they held nothing but a few spare reeds and a map in case she was separated from Alchemy. Though she was hoping that wouldn’t happen.

They also looked odd against her newly darkened coat. She was so used to seeing her own, lightly-colored, ice-blue flanks that the darker shade of her sides felt … odd to look upon. Like she wasn’t herself anymore. The dark, almost midnight blue seemed off, strange when compared to her old coloration. Her mane and tail had been dyed too, the almost platinum, ice-white color replaced by a striking amber-colored hue. A necessary precaution, she reminded herself. Besides, Alchemy said it would wash out with the right counteragent.

Still, she had to admit … when she’d looked at herself in the mirror, the effect had been quite striking. She really did look like a different mare. Except for the cutie mark on her flank. Hopefully no one would notice that. She really didn’t feel like changing that too. At least the saddlebags would conceal part of it.

“Right, then,” Alchemy said, shooting her a smile as he pulled the door open. “Let’s get you your first good look at Sheerwater!” He tugged the door open with a flourish of his hoof and then made an “After you” motion. She nodded, squinting as the bright, afternoon light spilled through the doorway, and then stepped forward.

The first thing to hit her was the heat, and she reached for her magic, instinctively wrapping her body in a cooling field as hot air swept over her. She blinked, trying to force her eyes to adjust to the bright outdoor light as a hoof came down on her shoulder.

“Um, you might want to tone down your cooling spell a little,” Alchemy said, pointing at her forehead. “It’s going to attract attention like that.”

Her eyes began to adjust, and she turned her attention toward the tip of her horn, noticing the bright purple glow that was filling her vision. I shouldn’t be using that much magic, she thought as her eyes widened in surprise. Not unless … Unless it’s really hot.

She let out a sigh and began to ease back, narrowing the conduit of power that she could feel somewhere in the front of her mind. It was a bit like slowly tightening a muscle, holding back the torrent of energy that surged through her body so readily. The cool sensation faded, replaced by a rising warmth that made her feel like she was standing too close to an open flame … an open flame that surrounded her on all sides.

Someone was laughing, and she twisted her head to a see a griffon flying by, chuckling as he shook his head. “Tourists,” he said, just loud enough that she could hear it. “Can’t take the heat.”

She scowled at him, though the griffon didn’t notice. He was already flying away, his wingbeats carrying him off over the rooftops. What did he know anyway? He was wearing one of those scarves, so he was obviously … obviously …

The scowl slipped from her face, her jaw dropping as she became aware of the scenery around her. Even her magic faded, forgotten in the moment as she took in the sight of the city around her.

It was incredible. She could see dozens of griffons all around her, some walking, some flying. Griffons of every shape and color. And beyond them, what had to be hundreds were flying through the air. Maybe it wasn’t, but it certainly looked like it. And past that …

She craned her head backwards, tilting further and further back, her jaw dropping lower and lower as she took in for the first time the titanic pillar of stone towering above their safe house, which was nestled up near the side of one small corner. The pillar seemed to stretch on and on into the sky, at least as tall as the pillars that made up the supports of Cragtooth Heights. But the pillars there were unadorned, almost featureless.

Here, every available space looked as if it had been used. Wooden structures clung to the outside of the pillar, walkways stretching between them. Pathways and openings had been carved into the rock, and as she watched, a trio of griffons leapt off of an expansive stone balcony, spreading their wings and flying out across the mostly-cloudless sky. She wanted to step back, wanted to see as much of it as possible, from the homes and shops around the base, to what looked like a vertical garden stretching up one side, to the gently spinning vertical windmills on the top that she could just barely see the tips off. At the same time, part of her wanted to step forward, to get a closer look at the patterns that had been etched in the stone near some of the openings, patterns that she was sure were carved motifs and etchings in the reddish stone itself.

It’s like an entire city, she thought as she took a step backwards. If that’s been hollowed out, even partially … you could fit all of Ender’s Isle in there! Maybe more!

And it was just the first of many. She turned, her mind feeling like it was shutting down as she took in the taller, narrower spire of rock right next to it, and then the equal-sized column of stone past that, and the one past that, and … They just kept coming.

“Wow,” she said, her mind struggling for a more appropriate phrase and coming up with nothing. “It’s … Titanic. Seeing it on the train it was neat, but we were going fast, looking through glass. And it was dark.” She shook her head as it dawned on her how heavily she was staring. “I’m … a tourist.”

Alchemy laughed, and for a moment she felt like doing the same. She shook her head again, shutting her mouth and forcing herself to stop staring. You have a job to do, she reminded herself, feeling a pang of anger at her reaction. You need to focus and—

“Oh come on,” Alchemy said, apparently catching sight of her sudden change of demeanor. “You can laugh, Frost. It’s fine. I did the same thing this morning. In fact, I probably looked more ridiculous. A little like—” His jaw dropped open, his head tilting to one side and eyes going wide, tilting so far back they almost vanished back in his head. His tongue flopped out to one side, a spittle of drool almost dripping free of the tip.

“A ‘it ‘ike ‘at,” he said as she gave him a dumbfounded stare. “No?” he said, sucking his tongue back into his mouth and returning to normal. “Shame. I was hoping it’d at least be a little amusing.”

“I … No,” she said, shaking her head. “It was … different.”

“Well,” he said. “At least you’re not scowling again.”

“I wasn’t disappointed with the city—” she began, but Alchemy was already moving down the street. She hurried to catch up.

“Forget it,” he said. “Come on. This way.” He jerked his head towards an upcoming intersection. “We’ve got a ways to go before we reach the clothing store I found earlier this morning.

“I noticed you didn’t come back with anything,” she said. “Just food.”

He nodded. “I didn’t go by the genealogical society either. Well,” he amended, “I did but they were busy speaking with the guards. I didn’t want to raise questions. And I checked around the store, but wanted a second opinion before I bought anything.”

“I see.”

“It’s fine,” he said, waving a hoof. “We’ve got plenty of time. Besides, I don’t mind walking back to the society, it’s just a chance to see more of the city. And that way we can go right from there to the university, get our data back to back.”

“What are you going to ask them?” Frost asked as she matched his pace, her own mind jumping from question to question. “Do you have something in mind?”

“I thought I’d ask about the break-in,” he said. “Why somepony—or someone—would bother, and what they did. Nothing detailed,” he added, glancing at her. “Just enough to look curious and maybe get some information—especially if the griffon we speak to is talkative. And while we’re at it, I’ll tie it into that crypt that got broken into last night and ask about that.”

“What if they get suspicious?” she asked, lifting an eyebrow as she pulled her attention away from the city around her. How do ponies—or griffons—get used to this? she wondered. How does anyone?

“I’ll just make something up,” Alchemy said with a shrug. “I was thinking something about having gone on a tour of the graveyard where the crypt was—”

“Wait, what?” she asked, her shock cutting him off before he could finish his sentence. “They offer tours?”

“Well, yeah,” he said, slowing. “In the Empire, mausoleums and crypts can be two thousand-year old works of art. Stone edifices that have been carved and shaped by dozens of generations worth of griffons. They’re an attraction in the city.”

She frowned. “How’d you know that?”

“I read the back of the pamphlet that has our map on it,” he admitted with a shrug. “Still, they made it sound pretty neat.”

“Visiting a room full of bones doesn’t sound very appealing to me,” she said, a shiver running down her back despite the heat, ending with a twitch of her tail.

“Its not about the—oh,” Alchemy said, his eyes widening. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” she said, turning her attention back to the city around her, her mind fighting to split its attention. All right, she thought as they turned onto another street, this one full of foot traffic. We need to talk to the genealogical society and see what happened with them, then we need to ask about the crypt. Then we need to go see this professor and ask him about the cults, and how that tied into that ancient city. She shut her eyes for a moment, reminding herself to focus on the task at hoof.

Yes, the city is impressive, she thought. But there are more important things at stake here. You need to stay focused! Do not let yourself be distracted.

It would admittedly be a lot easier, however, if she wasn’t already sweating under the oppressive heat of the sun. She tilted her head back, squinting her eyes as she looked up into the bright sky.

Crazy sapients, wanting to live in someplace so hot. Surely it couldn’t get any hotter, could it?

A chuckle from her side told her that Alchemy had noticed her movements. “It’s a good thing we’re going to the store first,” he said. “We can get you a nice hat. That should keep you a little cooler.”

“I still don’t see how more clothing is going to help against more heat,” she said, frowning. “It doesn’t make any sense.”

“Sure it does,” Alchemy said. “It’s like ice shades. The shades we wear on the dredgers to keep the glare from the ice off of our eyes?”

“I’m familiar with the concept,” she said, her tone sounding somewhat flat. Maybe the heat was sapping at her already.

“Well, the clothes do the same thing,” he said. “They keep the sun off, and keep you cool.”

She tried for a retort but gave up, shaking her head in frustration. “Very well. How much farther?”

“Actually, right up ahead,” Alchemy said, pointing with a free hoof at a double-storied stone structure up the street, sitting near the base of one of the narrower pillars. The front of the shop was set with wide, glass windows, tinted just enough that the clothing on display was visible but with a slightly darker shade to it.

She let out a sigh of relief as they passed through the entrance, a simple, glass-framed door that swung open at the slightest touch. Despite the burning heat outdoors, the interior of the store was cooler than expected, with a slight breeze flowing through the entrance as they trotted in. A bell above the door let out a little ring, and a pony sitting behind a nearby counter looked up at them.

Frost froze, her eyes opening wide as the mare smiled at them. “Welcome to the Pony Emporium,” she said, her voice cheerful. “We’ve got a wide variety of specials today. Can I help you with something?” A confused look flitted across her face. “Are you alright, hun? I don’t have something caught in my teeth, do I?”

Alchemy’s elbow caught her in the ribs and she jerked her eyes away as she realized that she’d been staring at the horn on the mare’s head. “No, no,” she said, shaking her head. “I just … You caught me by surprise is all.” She willed her body to relax, to drop the combat posture she’d begun to unconsciously slip into.

You’re not on the Ocean anymore, Frost, she thought, giving herself a mental thump. She’s just an ordinary unicorn.

An ordinary unicorn. It was almost … odd. The mare was giving her a sheepish look now, like she’d simply assumed incorrectly, shrugging while giving her bouncy, orange mane a quick toss.

“Well, that’s a relief,” she said, apparently not at all bothered by the odd look Frost still felt like she was giving her. Then the mare’s smile widened. “Weren’t you in here earlier?”

“I was,” Alchemy said before Frost could say anything. He stepped forward with a smile. “My friend and I came back to pick up a few things.”

“Oh, that’s excellent!” the mare said, dropping down behind the counter and trotting around the side towards them. “May Belle is upstairs helping another customer, so if you know what you’d like, I can get your order ready.”

“I know what I want,” Alchemy said, tilting his head toward Frost. “But my friend here doesn’t. She’s used to a colder climate … And a much smaller city,” he said, giving her a quick smile. She gave him a half-hearted one back, her eyes still drawn to the mare’s horn. “She could use a hoof picking out something.”

“Oh?” Frost froze as the mare’s attention snapped back to her, a smile that felt almost predatory on her face. “Well then,” she said. “That’s something I can certainly help with, Miss …”

“Glimmer,” she said after a moment’s hesitation. “Just Glimmer.”

“Well, then, Miss Glimmer,” the mare said, stepping and turning towards the rear of the shop. “If you’ll just come this way, we’ll see about getting you something suitable for this warm weather! Meet us in the back or at the counter when you’re done, dear,” she said toward Alchemy. “If you know what you want just find it and I’ll get you all set up as soon as your friend and I are done.” She began to move towards the back, a happy tune on her breath as she moved away between the racks of clothes.

“Don’t forget about our requirements,” Alchemy said, his voice slightly quieter as he gave her one last look before moving away. For a moment she frowned, and then she nodded as what he’d meant dawned on her.

Proper attire, she thought as she moved to follow Autumn into the back of the store. The mare was humming to herself as she wrapped what looked like a dress in a warm, golden glow, flipping it around in the air before settling it back on the rack. Clothing you can move in. Fight in. She understood that.

“So,” Autumn said as she came to a stop and turned back to look at her. “Not many unicorns where you come from?”

“Not really,” Frost said, shaking her head slightly. “Why?”

“Because you haven’t taken your eyes off my horn since you got here, girl,” came the reply. “If you stared any harder your coltfriend back there might start getting jealous.”

“He’s not my coltfriend,” she said, shaking her head. “And I … apologize for my actions. I’m not used to being around other unicorns.”

“Shame,” Autumn said, flipping her mane over her shoulder once more as she began moving towards the back of the shop. “A body like that, girl? You’re wasted on whatever rural home you came from.”

She didn’t respond. She wasn’t sure how to. Insults she could handle. Off-color comments? Easy. Flattery, on the other hoof …

“So,” Autumn said without looking back as she reached the back of the store. There was a wide array of fabric spread across the rear wall, a rainbow of colors and styles Frost had never seen before. “What are you looking for, hun? An evening dress? Something simple, maybe? To accent those legs of yours?”

“I … no,” she said, shaking her head and finally pulling her wandering eyes away from the horn. There’s no red band there, Frost. You can stop looking. “I just need something loose and comfortable. With plenty of space under it.”

The salesmare frowned. “Well, that’s a bit outside the usual request, especially considering what’s in season now, but—”

“I’m not interested in what’s in season now,” Frost said, keeping her voice level. “I need something that I can move in. Something that will keep me cool, but not catch or trip me up. Something I can easily discard if the need arises. And something that I can keep my equipment beneath without raising too much of a fuss.” She didn’t like walking around without a bow. She felt defenseless, even though she could get an arrow up to half the speed of a bow with a little effort. The bow was just faster.

“That’s … certainly not what I expected when I saw a young mare like yourself walk in the door,” Autumn said, her expression shifting towards one of puzzlement. “In fact, that sounds more like something I would expect a young griffon from a military wing to say.”

“That’d be perfect,” Frost said. “Whatever you would give one of them. Or something close to that.”

Autumn let out a long sigh, her face falling somewhat. “I should have known that musculature couldn’t have come from simple exercise. An adventurer, then?”

“Kind of,” she said, nodding. The salesmare’s expression took on a resigned look.

“Well, I guess not everypony needs to look fabulous all the time,” she said as she began trotting along the back wall. “Come on. This way to the … the more straightforward stuff. If we don’t have it, I can make it for you.”

“Wouldn’t that take a while?” Frost asked, following the mare.

“Not for me,” Autumn said, winking and twisting her hindquarters to one side so Frost could see the measuring tape on her flank. “Tailoring’s my talent. I’m good enough that I don’t even need to take measurements most of the time. Helps when you get a variety of customers.”

“What kind of variety?”

“Griffons, mostly,” Autumn said. “And ponies. Occasionally some zebra, since I do stock several imports from their country.”

The mare continued talking as she reached another section of the store and began pulling down a selection of clothing, passing each one of them to Frost. The cloth was light and thin, completely unlike anything she’d felt before, and even the ill-fitting cloak that she slung over her shoulders felt far less heavy than she expected.

“You seem surprised, dearie,” Autumn remarked after a moment. “Never knew cloth could be so light, did you?”

“It’s … surprising,” Frost said as she passed the robe back. “Not what I expected, certainly.”

“Well, I must admit that the cloak might be your best bet,” Autumn said as she wrapped the object in her magic. “But I really must ask. How … utilitarian … do you want it to be?”

“What?”

“What would you prefer, Glimmer?” Autumn asked again. “I can give you a basic robe for very little, but it won’t look very nice. It’ll be downright plain.”

“I—” She caught herself before she could ask for the plain one. We are supposed to be acting like tourists, right? So we need to fit in. “Actually,” she said. “What do you have that would look nice?” It felt almost odd to ask the question, but she reminded herself that there was a goal to it. “Something that’s not too costly, and can do what I’ve asked, but still look nice?”

“Hmm.” Autumn sat back as if the question had stumped her. “A robe might be a little out of place for that, I’m afraid.”

“Oh,” Frost said. “Well, in that case—”

“You’ll want something like this!” Autumn said, her horn lighting up and sweeping something from several aisles away across the store towards her. Frost froze as something light and cool settled around her shoulders, followed by something dropping atop her head. Her shock must have shown on her face, because Autumn just clicked her tongue.

“You’d think I’d know better than to do that to someone with your personality,” she said, turning and motioning towards a mirror. “But I just got so excited! It complements you perfectly! Take a look.”

It was a cloth wrap, Frost realized as she stepped up to the mirror. One similar to what some of the griffons she’d seen in the city were wearing. It was a light purple, the color not unlike that of her magic, and was just long enough to cover her back all the way back to her flank, where it rested lightly atop her saddlebags.

“Sure, there’s not much to it,” Autumn said as she stepped up beside her. “But it’s lightweight, easy enough to wear, and will do pretty much what you were asking for, provided you keep your saddlebags with you. Although,” she said with a glance at the bags in question. “I would recommend finding something that matches a little more.

“It’s fine,” Frost said, turning slightly and admiring the looseness of the cloth. Autumn’s magic had wrapped it well enough that it didn’t feel like it was going to come free at any moment—it actually felt fairly snug. But at the same time there was a sense of … she wasn’t really quite sure how to put it. Flow? She didn’t feel like she was wearing something. It was like the cloth wasn’t there.

“How do you like the hat?” Autumn asked.

She glanced at it. It wasn’t anything special, just a wide brimmed hat, although it did seem like it would block her view of the air—though that meant it would shade her eyes as well.

“It’s fine,” she said, nodding. “Just in case, though … do you offer sunglasses? Or better yet, sun goggles?”

“You mean sand goggles?” the salesmare asked with a shake of her head. “No. But hun, you can find those anywhere in this city. Though they might ruin the effect.”

Frost shook her head. Effect is not what I’m interested in, she thought, looking down at the wrap. “I’ll take this, I think,” she said, eying herself in the mirror. It looked … good, which was a little surprising. It even felt good, which seemed even odder. The mare in the mirror almost didn’t look like her, even though it was, and she knew it was. It was her … Just different.

“Well,” Autumn said. “If that’s all you need, then—”

“Wait.” She held up one hoof. “How much for one of the regular … day dresses? Sun dresses? The simple ones?”

The salesmare’s eyes went wide. “Which one?”

“Any of them,” Frost said. “Whatever you think would fit and look nice.”

“Would you like to try one of them—”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “It’s … a favor for someone. Just something nice that I could wear on an average day.”

“Any specifications?”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “It’s just for the future. If I have the time.” Autumn’s satisfied look said that she was convinced something she’d done had made the sale, but Frost ignored it. “And surprise me,” she said. “Wrap it, fold it, or whatever you do and I’ll take it in my bags. This I’ll wear out.”

“Fold it!” Autumn’s indignant, shocked vocalizations followed them all the way to the front counter, though she still complied, delivering the asked-for item in a small bundle of thin, lightweight paper. Frost slid it into her bags without comment, pulling her band of reeds free at the same time.

“Ah,” came a familiar voice. “There you are.” Frost turned at the sound, paused, and then let out a loud laugh, the force behind her voice surprising even her.

“Well,” Alchemy said with a roll of his eyes. “I guess that answers that question.”

“You look fine, hun,” Autumn said, giving Frost a disappointed look. “Miss Glimmer here simply doesn’t understand the finer designs of zebra culture.”

“You look like a rainbow exploded,” Frost said, forcing her laugh back into chuckles. “And a paintbrush.”

Alchemy shifted, shrugging, the bright and multicolored—but mostly yellow—cloth rippling in a fine sheen. She wasn’t quite sure what it was—at least, what it would be called, but it seemed to be made up of a multitude of layers, though the material looked even lighter than what she was wearing.

“Plainsland robes,” Alchemy said, as if that explained everything. “Silk. Very comfortable. And cheaper here than they would be a lot of other places, save the Plainslands alone, for obvious reasons.”

“So, let’s see,” Autumn said, ignoring the banter as she punched a few buttons on the register. “That’ll be 227 reeds, please. No, not those, hun, those are the silver ones. You want the aluminum—there you are.” The register let out a small ding as Frost took her change and slid it back into her saddlebags. “Thanks for your business!”

“Welcome,” Alchemy said as they moved towards the door. Frost glanced at it, eyeing the bright sunlight.

Well, she thought as she raised her hoof to the handle. Time to find out if this works. She took a slight breath as she pushed the door open, and then stepped out into the sun.

It was warm. Definitely warm. But oddly enough, it wasn’t hot. Huh.

“So?” Alchemy asked, stopping next to her and tilting his head in the direction they needed to move.

“You’re right,” she said, surprised. “It’s actually cooler.”

“You should try zebra robes sometime,” Alchemy said, smiling. “They’re nice.”

“Hmmm … maybe.” She glanced down at the wrap. It actually looked nice in the light, though she wasn’t sure how that would hold over when she washed the dye out of her coat.

Tartarus, she thought as she looked at her coat. I didn’t even consider that when I told that mare to pick me out a dress. She almost let out a sigh. So much for that idea.

Even so, she didn’t turn and return it. Instead she moved down the street after Alchemy. She had a mission to do. And besides, something about it had felt … nice.

* * *

“Wait,” Alchemy said, his face bearing a halfway-believable expression of shock. “You’re telling me that this place was broken into as well?”

“Yes,” the griffon behind the desk said. There was a simple, tired, almost matter-of-fact tone to the way she said it, as if she’d been repeating the words all day from her front office and was already tired of it. Then again, Frost could see the look of resignation on her face. Whatever she wanted to do, she wasn’t doing it at the moment.

“Why would anyone break into here?” Alchemy asked. “I thought you just stored records and genealogy. Are you like a museum?”

“No,” the aide said with a shake of her feathered head. Her plumage was light, almost sky-blue. “While we do own a number of ancient clan treasures, none of them are kept here. They’re kept at the museum. Here we strictly do research and record-keeping.”

“What kind of research?” The question was out of her mouth before she realized what she was doing, and she gave the griffon a quick smile as her gaze shifted towards her.

“Genealogical research,” the griffon said slowly, peering at her with a look that said the answer was the most obvious thing in the world. “Tracking family histories that have been lost, building family roots, learning when and where one came from.”

“That takes research?” She saw the aide flinch at her question, wings spreading in annoyance, but she hadn’t meant to offend. “Sorry,” she said. “I’m just not too familiar with … what you do.”

“I suppose that’s fair,” the aide said, her wings settling by her sides once more. “After all, most don’t bother to follow their family line past the first century or two.”

“You go further?” Alchemy asked, leaning forward slightly. His eagerness put a nice touch on the whole thing.

“Indeed.” The aide rose slightly behind her desk. “We at the Imperial Genealogical Society make the study of our history, culture, and past of the most vital importance. Inside our archives, we have histories and family lines that we can trace back over three-thousand years; well before the Founding. We can trace entire clans back to their founding members, and then back forward again to distant relations they never knew they had. Building such a network involves no small amount of research, dedication, and hard work in the modern age alone, but to do such when studying a family that has been dead and gone for over a thousand years, well …” She shook her head. “There’s a reason the average member of the society can translate at least one form of ancient text.”

“So it’s difficult?” Frost asked.

“More than difficult,” the aide said, a proud look on her face. “We do work here that rivals the National Museum. Sometimes their findings are even based on ours! We’ve found names on ancient gravestones that were thought to be simple carved decorations. We’ve found links between clans that no one even knew existed. Our work is hard, tedious, and long-suffering. And it’s not at all helped by someone breaking into our records.”

“That’s what they broke into?” Alchemy said. “Records?”

“That’s all we have!” the aide said, her voice almost squawking with indignation. “Unless you’re looking for a few spare bits or access to our research, there’s nothing else here but records!” She shook her head. “That’s why a break-in here makes so little sense.”

“What kind of records?” Frost asked. The aide just looked at her as if it was one of the dumber questions she’d heard all day.

“Genealogical records,” the griffon said, her voice flat. “That’s what we do here.” She shook her head. “Sorry, why are you here again?”

“For me,” Alchemy said, raising his hoof. “I’m the one who wanted to come today. I didn’t know about the break-in, though.”

“You mentioned that,” the aide said, and Frost could almost feel the sarcasm in her tone.

“Yes, well, we were actually here because of something we were looking at yesterday,” Alchemy said. “We were visiting a …” He paused. “A mausoleum, I think? A crypt? I was told that you—I mean the genealogical society—were responsible for maintaining it.”

“Oh!” The aide shifted, her expression switching from bored apathy to wide-eyed interest. “We maintain several historical grave sites that no longer have clans. Which one where you visiting?”

“Um,” Alchemy gave the aide a nervous grin. “The one that got broken into last night? We went back to see it, and—”

“Oh, that one,” the aide said, though from her tone she was more upset by the thought of the crypt being broken into than anything else. “Yes, we’ve been having questions about that all day.”

“Well, it was interesting,” Alchemy said, a wide-eyed look of innocence on his face. “I was hoping I could learn a bit more about it, but with the guards everywhere ...”

“Right,” the aide said. “Well, what do you want to know?” Alchemy’s face lit up at the question, and Frost had to hold back a chuckle.

He’s actually pretty good at this, she thought. If I didn’t know that he already knew most of the answers to what he was asking, I’d probably assume he was just a weird, curious tourist.

“I had a couple of questions,” Alchemy said, speaking quickly, as if he couldn’t decide which to ask first. “First of all, how does a grave site end up without a clan? And who owned it before the society took over? Why do you keep them? When did you take it over? What was the clan who owned it before like? Who—”

“Whoa,” the aide said, holding up her talons. “Easy there. Some of those questions were answered by the tour you know.”

“Uh …” For a moment Alchemy froze.

“But I doubt they’re doing those today,” the griffon said, her eyes rolling upwards as if she was looking elsewhere. “Right. Break in. Well, I don’t have all those answers, but I guess I can get them for you, if you don’t mind a bit of a walk.”

Alchemy shook his head. “No, not at all!”

“Right.” The aide spread her wings and glided over her desk, coming to a stop by the small office’s door. “Just follow me, Mister …? Uh, I didn’t quite get your name.”

“Flask,” Alchemy said.

“And I’m Glimmer,” Frost said as the aide looked in her direction.

“Liris Valecry,” the aide said, pushing the door to her office open. “Follow me.”

“Valecry?” Frost said as she followed them out into the hall. “That’s an interesting name.”

“I can track it back almost fourteen-hundred years on both sides of my family,” Liris said. “My thesis on that was what helped earn me my job here.”

“On your name?”

“Are you aware how griffon surnames work?” Liris asked, twisting her head back to look at her.

“Not really.” She knew it was complicated, but she’d never asked.

“All our secondary names are made up of two parts,” Liris said. “The first is taken from the first part of the father’s name. The second, from the latter part of the mother’s. So my family name, Valecry, comes from my father, Valeiron, and my mother, Twirlcry.”

“That sounds … complicated,” Frost said. “Really complicated.” That kind of explains how Arwing could be Blade’s cousin though.

“No less complicated than how you ponies do it,” Liris said. “Actually, from a historical standpoint it makes even more sense. You ponies don’t even pass names on in some cases, due to your marks.” She shook her head. “To each their own and all that, but our system makes sense once you’re used to it. Because of it, we can track family lines back a long way.”

“As long as you know the child’s name, you can make a reasonable guess at the parentage,” Alchemy said.

“Yes,” came Liris’s reply as they reached the end of the hallway and turned, heading deeper into the building. “And you can trace the history of names by following different individuals. Some cultures have difficulty tracking daughters or sons or sons backwards, but our naming system allows us to track both with equal efficiency.”

“Anyway,” she said as the hallway they were following reached a junction with a larger one, this one slightly more occupied. Doors were arrayed about every twenty feet along one side of the hall, with plaques in Griffon set over each one. A few curious griffons glanced in their direction as they passed by, but none gave them more than a cursory look before continuing on their way. “You wanted to know about the old Skysinger crypt, then, right?”

“That’s the one that was broken into, right?” Alchemy asked.

“Yeah, that’s the one,” Liris said in disgust. “I still can’t believe someone would break in and …” Her voice trailed off into a long string of Griffon.

“Sorry,” she said, shaking her head. “Sort of lost it for a minute there. I’ve seen some of the reports on what happened, and it just makes me angry. There was no reason for anyone to break into such an old site.”

“Do you know what happened?” Alchemy asked.

“It was in the papers,” Liris said, waving a wing. Then she shook her head. “But you probably don’t read scratch, do you?”

“Scratch?”

“Sorry,” she said. “Office slang for ‘written Griffon.’ Dumb question. If you could read it, you’d probably be able to speak it, and they wouldn’t have sent you to me.”

“You do speak excellent Equestrian,” Alchemy pointed out.

Liris shrugged. “Thanks. Anyway, I don’t know much. Someone broke into the old place. Broke all the seals on the doors, ripped the place wide open and then broke into the graves themselves. Tore the rest of the crypt up too. Vases smashed, stone defaced, the works.”

“Did they take anything?”

Liris slowed, her paced coming to a stop as she glanced up at one of the plaques. “You know, we don’t actually know?”

“What?” Frost asked. “Aren’t you the ones who maintained it?”

“Yeah,” Liris said, giving her a flat look as she turned back. “And it was sealed. We just kept the outside nice and clean.”

“What’s it mean if it’s sealed?” Alchemy asked as Liris resumed walking.

“It means that …” The aide shook her head. “There’s not a good word for it in Equestrian, but the closest I can get is ‘Our deeds and bodies await the return.’”

“That’s a mouthful.”

“Like I said, in Equestrian you don’t have a word for it. But basically, a sealed tomb is one that its inhabitants had sealed to preserve their remains for the end of the world. We respect that sealing. Whoever broke into the tomb last night … didn’t.” It was hard to miss the lashing of her tail as she spoke.

So breaking a seal on a crypt is a cultural taboo, Frost thought. Interesting.

“Anyway,” Liris continued, glancing up at the next plaque as they passed it. “The only thing we can even start to assume at this point is that whoever broke in desecrated some of the graves, and, assuming they were in use, took the remains of whoever had been buried there. Again, it’s all speculation. A good chunk of the society’s archaeologists are over at the tomb right now trying to determine what’s fresh and what was broken before those thieves even opened it.”

“Sounds like a tough job,” Alchemy quipped.

“It’s going to be months,” Liris said, her voice coming out a groan. “Now that the crypt’s seal has been broken, we’re going to have to investigate and catalogue everything alongside the National—the museum—and figure out if it can stay or if we need to remove it for safekeeping. On the plus side, we’ll be able to read all of the names inside the tomb at last and check them against our own records …” Her pace slowed, her voice trailing off, and Frost looked up to see what was causing her to slow.

A griffon work crew had occupied the hall ahead, though at the moment they weren’t making much noise. They seemed to be measuring one of the doors, another member taking down the numbers as the two other griffons moved the tape measure around. The door itself was hanging open, the wood around the handle cracked and splintered.

“Right,” Liris said as the trio of griffons looked up at them and then went back to work. “This was the area that was broken into.”

Aside from the front door, it was the first sign of damage that Frost had seen. “Wait,” she said as she eyed the splinters of wood littering the carpet. “The one we needed to go to?”

Laris nodded. “It’s not the only place that was broken into, but it was one of them.”

“So we can’t go in?” Alchemy asked, sounding disappointed.

“There wouldn’t be a point,” Laris said, shaking her head again. “The whole place is closed off until it can all be catalogued again. The vandals pulled down shelves, scattered everything, and even set fire to some of the records.”

“Really?” Alchemy asked, casting a quick glance at Frost. She knew what the look meant.

Sounds like someone covering their tracks, she thought as Laris turned and began heading back the way they came. Making it harder to see what they were looking after.

“So I can’t find anything out, then?” Alchemy asked.

“Oh no,” Larris said. “I just won’t be able to answer some of the questions you asked. We’ve got backups of all of that stuff, in triplicate, at different locations. If anything was damaged or destroyed or taken, we’ll know about it before long. Until then though, we can’t use that archive. But there are a few other places I can get what you were asking about, if you don’t mind the wait.”

“No, no, not at all!” Alchemy said, grinning. “It’ll make a great story for when we get back, won’t it Glimmer?”

“Yeah, sure,” she said, trying to put a little enthusiasm into her voice and, from the raised eyebrow Liris gave her, failing.

“You can wait in the lobby if you’d—” she began.

“No, no, it’s fine,” Frost said. “It’s interesting enough.”

"Very well,” Liris said, turning down another hallway and away from the larger one they’d been following. “This way.”

This place is pretty large, Frost thought, eyeing the hallway as she followed and making some quick estimates of the size of the building they were in. It’s got to be several hundred feet across just judging from the size of the hallway we were just in. Which means the front of the building is just that: A front. At some point we passed into the ground below the upper levels.

They were moving back towards the front of the building now, bright sunlight filling the end of the hall as it opened up into a wide, double-leveled atrium. The far side was nothing but windows, letting in plenty of ambient light.

“The best I can do is try to find the answers is either translate one of the texts on claw that we have, or connect you with one of the guides,” Liris said, coming to a pause. “Other than that, you could try a library, but since I haven’t actually answered any of your questions, some of which you’d need to look up the information in the first place.”

“Either of the first two is fine,” Alchemy said, shrugging. “Sorry to be such a bother.”

“It’s fine, I needed an excuse to stretch my legs anyway,” Liris said, moving again, this time towards a tight spiral staircase in one corner of the room. “Anyway, in case they aren’t in—which they might not be with the whole break-in problem—I might answer what I do know off the top of my head. Which isn’t much, just how we acquire clanless graves.”

“It’s not super complex,” she said as she began climbing the stairs. “At least, not that I know of. Basically, when a griffon clan is breaks apart or dies off, the holdings are usually divided up. Back in the day, that meant usually they went to whatever clan that took their place. After the Founding, it stayed pretty much the same, except that in some cases, such as a peaceful dissolution—which to be fair hasn’t happened to a big clan in a while—things get auctioned off.”

“But sometimes,” Liris said as they reached the upper level. “Sometimes you get a case where something would be left over that no one wanted.”

“Like a grave site,” Alchemy said.

“Well, more often a crypt or a mausoleum,” Liris responded. “A grave site can be argued one way or the other, but a crypt is much larger and harder to ignore.” She tugged open a door and glanced inside.

“No guides,” she said. “All right, one second.” She vanished into the room and emerged a moment later with a moderately-sized notebook.

“The unnofficial guidebook,” she said, holding it up and then sinking back on her hindquarters. “Anyway, a lot of these crypts were mostly ignored or treated as tax sinks until about eight-hundred years ago, when the society was formed. The ones that weren’t owned were passed over to us, and the ones that were owned ended up being donated, since the king made the tax savings for it pretty clear.” She flipped the book open and glanced down at the pages. “All right, now you wanted to know about which of the crypts?”

“The one that was broken into,” Alchemy said.

“Okay, which is … Hang on.” Pages flipped by beneath Liris’s talons. “Okay, that’s right. That’s the Skysinger clan crypt. Dates from about fourteen-hundred years ago, ownerless before the society took over.” She flipped another few pages. “Looks like the clan that owned it broke apart because of debt. Some sort of deal with a crystal-heavy province in early Equestria that dove into the ground on them and left them destitute.” She looked up at both of them. ‘And … that’s it, sadly. You’d probably have more in the official records, but—”

“That’s fine,” Alchemy said. “Skysinger. Interesting. What about the other crypts you have?”

“The rest?” Liris asked. “You could probably still go take the tours. Those weren’t broken into—”

“We only have until tomorrow,” Frost said. Alchemy nodded in agreement.

“All right,” Liris said, flipping the pages a bit further. “Well, we’ve got … five, from the look of it.”

“What are the oldest ones?” Alchemy asked. “Do you have any from before the Founding of the Empire?”

“Um … Four, actually,” Liris said. “The Weathering Clan, the Thunderhead Clan, the Traveler Clan, and one that’s unlabeled. Three are still sealed.”

Alchemy glanced in Frost’s direction, and she nodded. Unlabeled.

“How old are they?”

“Three are the same age, actually,” Liris said, looking back down at the book. “The known crypts all date from around fourteen-to-fifteen hundred, each of their clans being a casualty in some way of the Founding. The unknown one dates back to sometime before that ... possibly as far back as two centuries or more before the others …” She twisted the book. “Sorry, there isn’t much past that. My guess is that they don’t talk much about it.”

Interesting, Frost thought. The dates don’t match up, but an unknown tomb … Then again, that’d be pretty obvious. Why wouldn’t Anubis go there if that’s what he was looking for? Unless … maybe he doesn’t know it exists? She gave her head a little shake. No, if there was something to the tombs, then he’d make it his business to know. Unless he didn’t—Arg! I hate finding my way in the dark!

“Does that answer your questions?” Liris was asking. “It should give you something to go on if you decide you want to learn a little more from somewhere a bit more prepared.”

“Thank you, yes,” Alchemy said, glancing over at Frost as he spoke. “You’ve been very helpful, sorry for the mess with everything.”

“Eh, it’s not such a big deal,” Liris said, closing the guidebook with a snap. “Although if you want more, you might want to try the museum or one of the universities. They’ve got some sapients there that could probably answer any more detailed questions you might have about the clans or the history, since we’re a little out of commission at the moment. Or you could track down one of the guides, but again, we’re a little out of commission.”

“Thanks,” Alchemy said, nodding. “I think we’ll try one of the museums. Glimmer?”

Frost nodded as he looked at her. “Yes,” she said, her mind already picking over the details Liris had just given. “I think we’ll do that.”

* * *

“Where are we going?” Frost asked as Alchemy made a quick turn off of the main street they’d been following. “This isn’t the way back to the house.”

“No,” Alchemy said, giving her a grin as he glanced back at her. “We’re taking a detour.”

“Are you sure we should be doing that?” she asked, frowning as she followed him down the narrower road. “We need to get back and let Blade know what we found.”

“Which is what?” Alchemy asked, still grinning. “We got information from the genealogical society, but it’s nothing we could use unless we wanted to try and—” He took a quick look around, and she lifted an eyebrow as he noticed the few other griffons using the same street. “Well, you know, visit one of them this late,” he finished, motioning with one hoof to point out how the sun was already just touching the tops of the smaller buildings around them. “Besides, Blade already had plans tonight. If we don’t catch her tonight, we can talk to her tomorrow.”

“What about our food?” she asked, tilting her head towards the bags slung over her and Alchemy’s backs.

“It’ll be fine in the heat,” Alchemy said, resuming his way down the street. “It’ll probably last longer than you will.”

She ignored the barb. For one, he was probably right. He’d done most of the shopping, picking out a variety of foods that were either only vaguely similar or in most cases completely unfamiliar to anything she’d ever eaten on the Ocean, several of which he’d claimed were imported from the Plainslands. Which meant they probably could handle the heat better than she had—though the wrap had helped, to her surprise. Far more than she’d expected it too.

Even so, she felt like she needed a shower. A cool shower. But … she had to admit, perhaps the idea of wearing clothes under all the heat wasn’t quite as insane as she’d assumed.

“Where are we going?” she asked. Ahead of them, one of the smaller spires of stone loomed over their street, a column of stone at least fifty feet across at its base.

“You’ll see,” Alchemy said, giving her another almost infuriating smile. “It’s something on the map I wanted to check out.”

“Will it take long?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t think so.”

“Is it related to our mission?”

He paused, his pace slowing for just a moment. “Yes,” he said. “I think so.”

“Fine,” she said with a long sigh. “I wish you’d shared this with me earlier, rather than just deciding to make the decision.”

“It’ll be worth it,” he said, glancing back at her and giving her another grin. He was still wearing the ridiculous robes he’d purchased that morning, though judging from how little he’d sweated, they worked even better than her wrap. Or maybe the same resistance to the cold his potion had gifted him with worked the other way as well.

Or maybe I should have asked after a pair of robes as well, she thought. Then again, I still think they look ridiculous. How can he move and fight in those? Then again, there were all those stories she’d heard about the Plainslands. Clearly, they managed somehow. Or at least, they had in the tales.

The street ended as they approached the base of the tower, terminating in a large loop that circled the whole of the base and the structures that ringed it. Alchemy turned left, jumping out of the center of the street as a ball flew by, a pack of young griffons following. Frost waited until they had passed to continue across the street, only to have to increase her pace to catch up when she noticed that Alchemy hadn’t waited for her.

Something hit her on the flank and she let out a surprised yelp, spinning around. The ball bounced once before she caught it with her magic, and with the frantic scraping of dozens of claws against the warm stone, the entire pack of kits skidded to a halt in front of her.

“Üzgünüm,” one of the kits said. “Geri bizim topu alabilir miyim, bayan?”

She looked over at the ball, and then down at the eager, but slightly cautious looking bunches of feathers sitting in front of her. She could guess what the kit had been asking, especially as she could see a good half of the young griffon’s wide eyes following the ball back and forth as she let it bob in the air. She gave it a quick jump to one side, noting how some of the fledglings twitched. Hmm ...

“This ball?” she asked, giving it another little twirl. Tiny wings spread flared out, each of the young griffons jockeying with the others without lifting their claws.

“Yes,” they seemed to say with their eyes. “That ball.” She gathered her magic, her horn glowing beneath the rim of her hat and then—

Go! The ball hit the pavement with a loud slap before rocketing almost straight into the air, every one of the small eyes watching it shoot up into the sky. Then, as it started to descend, the entire group dove into action, tiny wings buzzing as each tried to fly slightly higher than their fellows.

She stepped back, a sense of satisfaction welling inside her as one of the highest griffons slapped the ball with a rear paw, sending it bouncing across the street. The entire group tore after it, her part in the ordeal already forgotten.

“So,” she said as she turned to face Alchemy. “Where are we going again?”

“That was nice of you,” he said, turning and moving towards a stairway set on the side of one of the buildings.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” It had been something that normally she would have left for—for Barnabas. Had he been with her, she likely wouldn’t have had to grab the ball at all. He already would have taken it and tossed it out for the—

No! She shut her eyes for a split second, forcing herself to push the thoughts out of her mind. Focus on something else, she told herself. Like the stairs you’re climbing. Why are you climbing them? It was a valid question, one that she could focus on, one that would pull her attention away from that now-familiar hollow feeling.

“Anyway,” she said as she reached the top of the stairs. “What are we doing?”

“You’ll see,” Alchemy said, his infernal grin still fixed on his face. He moved across the roof, following the curve of the pillar and spiraling towards the center. She let out a sigh—one just audible enough that she knew he would hear it, sort of like the ones she used to give Bar—No!

Think about something else, she told herself. Like those not-bananas in the groceries! What are they? She’d called them bananas when she’d seen them, only for Alchemy to shake his head and say they were similar. Apparently, you cooked them, though she wasn’t sure how that made them different from bananas. Which you cooked, right? Maybe?

Up ahead, something was coming into view on the side of the pillar. A container of some kind, attached to the stone wall by cables and … It’s an elevator.

“Come on,” Alchemy said as she tilted her head back. There was a matching elevator at the peak of the column … at least it looked like there was. It was high up enough that it was a little hard to tell.

“Are you sure?” she said, slowing. “What’s up there that—Hey!”

“Just get in,” he said, his hooves on her saddlebags as he pushed her into the elevator. For a moment she considered digging in her hooves, but she could feel them slipping across the stone rooftop even without her resisting. Actual resistance wouldn’t get her anywhere.

The gate swung shut behind them with a click, the latch falling into place, and she took a quick look at the rest of the elevator. It was very … open, with only a chest high wall that was open along the bottom so she could see out of the car near her hooves. The wood she was standing on was solid, or at least felt solid, and the metal framework looked steady enough, but even so …

“Up we go,” Alchemy said, his hoof coming down on a lever near the door. The car lurched underhoof, jerking upwards before settling into a steady, smooth rise.

“Alchemy,” Frost said, shaking her head and looking over towards the orange stallion. “Where are we—”

“There,” he said, pointing. She followed the path of his hoof and her words died in her throat.

The entire city was spreading itself before them as the elevator rose, miles upon miles of streets tilting away until they looked like child’s toys. Still she went up, higher and higher as the car she was in lifted itself above the nearest towers.

She gasped as the entire valley came into view, spread out before her like a distant model. The elevator began to slow, but she barely noticed it. Every thought was fixed on the city.

It was incredible.

She could see dozens of towers of stone, each towering over the city, here and there connected at the lower levels by broad, sweeping arches of stone and wood, like the one their train had used. A gust of wind tugged at her hat, the lip flapping in the breeze, but she couldn’t notice something so insignificant. She could see it all. The stone pillars, the buildings and roads below them, the rivers encircling the city, and past them … green. Miles of green. The entire valley was filled with it, slope upon slope all the way to the top filled with green and gold and some sort of amber-colored stuff that looked a bit like her current mane color and …

“Farms,” she said as she realized what she was looking at. “They’re farms.” She turned, walking around the side of the elevator, the sun at her back as she followed the river along the side of the city, until she was looking south, at a vast, wide-open lake—a shimmering, crystalline blue surface wider and deeper than any she’d ever know. She could see faint shapes atop it, breaking the shimmering surface into cascading sparkles of light as they moved, and it took her a moment to realize that they were ships. Not airships that flew in the sky or ice dredgers that floated above the ice, but actual ships, the original forms of everything she’d ever known, moving through the water.

“It’s …” Her jaw felt like it wasn’t moving right. It had been easy to feel stunned at Blade’s abject declaration of the city’s size earlier, but now … “It’s beautiful.”

And it was. Strange, yes. Alien, almost certainly. But there was a beauty to the way it moved, the way it was arrayed, the way it looked.

“Here,” Alchemy said, lifting a latch at the rear of the elevator. A second door swung open, this one leading to a small, wooden platform. She looked at the top of the pillar for the first time, and she could see that it was open, clear of all obstructions save for a glass-and-metal railing and what looked like a few pairs of binoculars set onto the barrier. There was also a small box at the end of the elevator platform with a hole in it. Printed on it were three lines, one after another: Hibe, Michango, and Donations.

“I figured that you’d appreciate a chance to take your mind off things,” Alchemy said, pulling out an iron reed and dropping it into the box. “You seemed pretty enamored with the city earlier, and the map said this was one of the higher observation decks in the whole city. We’ve got plenty of time, and—”

“Thank you,” she said, stepping out of the elevator, her eyes still jerking towards the distant city. She could see everything. There were only a few higher points, among them the Imperial Pillar. She could see train yards, markets, flight schools, pumping stations, airship docks …

Anubis is docked at one of those docks, she thought, stepping towards the mounted binoculars. They were on swivels. It would be easy to—

No. She stopped, her hoof partway outstretched towards the binoculars. No. Alchemy didn’t drag you up here to look after something you already know about. He dragged you up here because … Because it’s what Barns would have done. Because it’s what Barns would want you to do. Remember? To stop. To have a life. To enjoy something.

To smile.

“Frost?” Alchemy asked, taking a step towards her. “You all right?”

“I’m fine,” she said, the words sounding strange in her ears, but then she said them again, with more force. “I’m fine. Not all right, but …” She shook her head and then tugged her eyes away from the distant airship docks, looking instead at Alchemy. “You’re right. This is a good idea. The city … it’s amazing.” She turned and looked back out over the distant scene, trying to decide what to look at first. The lake won, and she stepped over to the southern side of the pillar, ignoring the wind whipping around her and threatening to tear away her hat. She put her eyes to the glasses on the rail and watched as a ship cut its way through the water.

“Thank you,” she said again as Alchemy stepped up nearby and began peering through another set of glasses.

She meant it.

* * *

“You’re back,” Blade said as the door shut behind them. “Took you long enough.” the griffon was standing in the center room, a dark robe thrown across her body, though where she’d gotten it wasn’t clear.

“We took our time,” Frost said before Alchemy could speak. “We had to perpetuate our cover as tourists. And time was in our favor, for once, so it didn’t hurt.” She’d spent over an hour watching the city from the tower, moving from vantage point to vantage point as the metropolis flourished beneath her.

“Eh, no big deal,” Blade said, tightening a strip of dark cloth around her left foreleg. “Anything to report?”

“We have an appointment with Professor Stoneweather tomorrow afternoon,” Alchemy said. “And we were able to get a little information on the crypt that was broken into from the genealogical society.”

Blade paused. “Only a little?” she asked as Hain walked out of one of the other rooms.

“They couldn’t give us everything,” Frost said as she stepped forward. “The information that we were asking after? About the sealed, clanless tomb? It was stored with a bunch of similar information, all of which was destroyed or stolen when their building was broken into last night.”

Blade let out a long hiss.

“Sounds like that’s all the confirmation we needed, then,” Hain said. “Did you get anything on what he might be looking for?”

“No,” Alchemy said. “But we did get the names of a number of crypts that are similar in date and status. If he’s looking for something in one of them—”

“We’ll know after tonight.”

“Good,” Blade said, giving the strap of cloth one last tug. “You can fill me in on it tomorrow morning. Right now I need to move. Twilight won’t last long, and I need to be in position before dark. I’ll see you in the morning, and we can plan our next move.”

She nodded at each of them and then moved for the door, her cloak sliding along behind her and billowing in just the right places to make each movement subdued. A moment later, she was out the door and gone.

“Where’d she get the cloak?” Alchemy asked.

Hain shrugged. “Don’t know. She went out for a bit earlier and came back with it. I didn’t ask questions. You get everything else done?”

“We did,” Alchemy said. Frost gave the old griffon a curt nod in agreement, levitating her bags of food over her shoulders and depositing them on the kitchen counter.

“However,” she said with a quick shake of her mane. “There is one thing that I couldn’t find while I was out today.”

“Oh?” Hain cocked one grey-feathered eyebrow. “What’s that?”

“A shower,” she said, turning for the stairs. “I’ll return once I’ve found one.” Behind her she could hear shocked silence, and she caught a glimpse of Hain and Alchemy staring at one another as she ascended the stone steps.

“Did she—?” she heard Hain ask as she entered her room. The door shut behind her with a faint thump, cutting off any more of the conversation.

I did, she thought as she unraveled her wrap and held it out in the air. She’d need to clean it before she wore it again, but … she was going to wear it again. The thought surprised her almost as much as her parting words had.

Then again, perhaps they weren’t that surprising. It had felt good to just look at the city. It had felt good to buy something that wasn’t solely for the purpose of hunting down the cult. Speaking of which … The folded, paper wrapped dress floated free of her bags, and she stared at it for a moment before depositing it on the room’s end table, still wrapped. Not today. She didn’t know when.

But, she realized as she gathered her things and moved towards the shower, she did know one thing. The hollow in her chest?

It didn’t hurt quite as much anymore.

Count of Laws Broken: 0
Total Laws Broken: 90
Damage Value (In Bits): 0
Total Damage Value (In Bits): 390,941

Chapter 27 - Stalking the Jackal

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Sheerwater - The Safe House

Blade let out a sigh as the door to the safe house swung open before her, her shoulders sagging slightly as she stumbled into the dimly lit interior. I hate stakeouts, she told herself as she let the door swing shut behind her. I hate them. Long hours of holding a single position, moving as little as possible at all times, and for what? To watch some building; or in this case, an airship. To wait for those odd moments when something actually happened … If anything ever actually did. And when nothing did happen …

She let out as groan as she dropped onto one of the benches, tempted to just let herself fall asleep right then and there. It had to be done, she reminded herself. Someone had to keep watch, and you were the best choice. Frost is too iffy right now. Alchemy needed to do other things. Hain … well, if he got caught ... Besides, short of Hain, whose experience with the city was some thirty years out of date, she was the only member of the team who’d admitted to stakeout experience.

Still, it would have felt more worth it if she’d actually had anything to gain from it other than the few observations she’d gleaned. It was one thing to spend all night crammed atop a support beam, balancing yourself with a thin piece of rope and holding as still as possible in order to get some useful combat details. But to do that for hours on end and get as little as she had, most of which she’d already guessed, was a little disheartening.

“Tired?”

She tugged her head up, her cloak slipping back off of her head as she blinked at the blurry image at the base of the stairs. It was Hain, just arisen from what had probably been a good night’s sleep. How long had she been sitting there?

“Yeah,” she said, giving him a half-smile. “I hate stakeouts.”

“You should probably take a nap,” Hain said, moving past her into the kitchen. “Night stakeouts are tricky. They mess with the sleep cycle. Get a few hours and then wake up slightly late. Might help you get back on track. It’ll at least keep you awake for the rest of the day.”

She nodded. Her head felt fuzzy. Had she really drifted out of it sitting by the table?

I guess I did, she thought. Once the watch was over, I guess I didn’t feel much a reason to stay awake. “I think I’ll do that.”

“You will,” Hain said, trotting back out of the kitchen with what looked like a large mug of water clutched in his talons. “What?” he asked as he saw her eyes on it. “I spent the last thirty years living on the ice. It’s hot here. Even in the winter.”

She shrugged. “Not casting any judgement.”

“Well then,” Hain said, pausing to take a sip of his drink. “Before you do go get some rest, Blade, I want you to tell me what you found out.”

“What I found out?” She shook her head. “Pretty much nothing we couldn’t have guessed at.”

“Humor me. Summarize.”

“First of all, Anubis isn’t aboard the Superiority,” she said, giving her tail a little lash behind her as she spoke.

“You’re sure?” Hain asked, one eyebrow lifted.

“Definitely,” she said. “For one thing, there were dock workers on the deck when I arrived. Griffons. Regular guys. Laughing, joking, being a dock crew. There’s no way they’d be doing that if Anubis was on board. For one, I doubt he’d let anyone get that close to finding him.”

“He could hold back that fear effect of his maybe?”

She shook her head again. “No, that’s the other thing. There were a couple of unicorns aboard. Cult members. I saw them talking with the dock workers. But it was only a few. There are maybe three, four cult members on the whole ship. They made the rounds, checked the boat, did all the talking, everything. And they didn’t have that spooked look to them like the dockhooves reported in Spindle Rock. They looked relieved most of the time.”

Hain gave her a slow nod. “Fairly straightforward then. What about anyone coming on or off?”

“Just the dock workers. All night,” she said. Hain lifted an eyebrow. “By which I mean that the only ones who got on or off all night were the dock workers, but that stopped once they quit for the evening. After around eight or nine, nobody walked on or off that ship.”

“What about teleportation?”

“I didn’t see any sign of it,” she said. Her stomach let out a low growl, and she rose, taking advantage of the motion to shuck her cloak from her shoulders. Her feathers felt like they were sticking together. She needed sleep, a shower, and a good preening.

“It takes a lot of energy to teleport any substantial distance,” she said as she crossed into the kitchen. “I don’t know how powerful any of the unicorns in the Order are, but there’s a lot of wide, open space at the dock. It’s possible that someone could have been teleporting in or out, but I didn’t see any signs of it, so it’d have to be a pretty long-range teleport.”

“So it’s possible,” Hain said.

“Sure,” she said as she tugged the refrigerator door open and grabbed the first thing she could see—a turkey sandwich. Her stomach let out another short growl. “It’s possible that someone could have been teleporting in and out, there’s definitely space for it on the Superiority, but at the distance they’d have to be in order to keep it from being really obvious … why bother?”

“So you’re advocating that Anubis is somewhere in the city,” Hain said before taking another sip.

“Absolutely.” She sat back down at the table and unwrapped her sandwich, the scent of slightly dry but still somewhat fresh turkey making her salivate. “Aren’t you?” she asked before taking a large bite.

“I agree that it was the most likely scenario, and your watching of ship seems to support that,” Hain said. “But it’s always safer to assume that the most likely theory is still just that: A theory. Our foe is not to be underestimated, and on the odd chance that he would do the opposite of what we would expect, it’s always best to acquire as much intelligence as possible before you make a move.”

“Mm-hm.” She took another bite of her sandwich.

“Which brings to mind an intriguing problem,” Hain said. “If Anubis is not on the ship, as your stakeout would suggest, then he’s somewhere in the city. This very large city. If we’re going to find him, we’re going to have to work for it.”

“He might not be here for much longer,” Blade said, crumbs spraying from her mouth as she spoke. “That was the other thing I noticed. They were restocking the ship with a lot of supplies. And I mean a lot. Crates worth of food.”

“Did you get a good count?” Hain asked. “And are you sure they were actually full of food?”

“Small crates,” she said, shaking her head. “At least three or four dozen. Standard issue long-lasting rations, similar to what you’d eat in the military wings these days. Unless he was smuggling something aboard and wanted it to look really legitimate …”

“Doesn’t seem like his style,” Hain said. “At least, not from what I could tell reading those history books. Or that I could assume based on his style. So, lots of food, then?”

“Lots,” she said, the last of her sandwich vanishing. “The rest of the ship was looking pretty trim as well. Fixed up. Lots of new wood paneling, glass. There no signs of any of the damage from the battle at the Vault either. I think whatever Anubis is looking for, he’s not planning on being here long after he does.”

“Well, I’ll admit that’s somewhat relieving,” Hain said. “The last thing I wanted to worry about was that he was going to do something we couldn’t counter, like raise an army and go after the King. Assassination is usually hard to prevent against a clever, prepared opponent.”

“Still, it raises new questions,” Blade said. “Do we let him find whatever it is we’re looking for and then just follow him? Or do we try to keep him from whatever ‘it’ is and focus our attention on stopping him here and now? We can’t sabotage the Superiority and do more than slow him down. He’d just commandeer another airship and be gone, or wait for the docks to fix it, and that’d put the city guard on our tails rather than his.”

“You’ve put some thought into this.”

She gave him a tired grin. “I had a lot of time to think.”

“What about your … ah, employers?”

She shook her head. “If I sent a message this morning, it would still take about a week by airship to travel across the eastern ocean and arrive in Equestria. And then any response would be a week again on top of that. Even if they sent their fastest ship, the Empire is a sovereign nation. There would be channels to go through, bureaucracy.”

“The downside of civilization,” Hain said. “It has rules you have to follow … even when they don’t suit you.”

“Exactly,” Blade said. “And while there are methods for stepping around those rules …” She let the sentence trail off, and Hain nodded.

“That method was supposed to be you,” he said. “And us, I suppose.”

“Yeah.” She glanced down at her empty talons, her stomach rumbling once more, as if it were asking for another sandwich. “At this point, the best I can do is send a report, but I’d rather wait until I actually have an idea of what’s going on before I do that. Wait until I can at least tell my employer where Anubis is heading or why … Something concrete he can use, rather than information that will be hopelessly out of date. At the very least, I’ll send word when we’re done here, so they know what’s happened, just in case they somehow don’t already—”

“They have that good an intelligence network?” Hain asked, interrupting her. “I’d never known that as, well, one of their strengths.”

“I think they’ve expanded a bit,” she said. “They certainly were better informed than my last employers expected them to be. Rumor had it that it might have had something to do with—” She stopped speaking as the spark of an idea flashed across her mind. “Hey …” she said. “That could work.”

“What could work?” Hain asked.

“The Violet Heart,” she said, her eyes widening. “Why didn’t I think of that earlier?”

“Who’s Violet Heart?”

“It’s The Violet Heart,” she said, her eyes darting back towards Hain. “And that’s the thing. No one knows. She, he, whatever. No one knows.”

“Never heard of them,” Hain grunted.

“That’s hardly surprising,” she said. “Though they might have heard of you. I’m not big on the whole cloak and dagger stuff, but The Violet Heart is the new player.”

“Espionage?”

“Information,” she said, her body almost quivering with excitement. “Expensive, insider information. Very quiet. Very vital.”

“They could get a message to Equestria?”

“No,” she shook her head. “But they could get us what we’re looking for about Anubis.”

“This … Violet Heart … would know?”

“I don’t know,” she said, shaking her head. “But if someone in their organization is inside the city—and you can bet they’d be here, of all places—then they’re bound to know something.”

“Can you find them?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I’d have to start asking around. They’re highly compartmentalized. I’ve heard stories of a few groups that have gone after them, either government or other information networks who don’t like being muscled in on.”

“And?”

“Nothing,” she said with an amused laugh. “Compartmentalized individuals with no idea who’s above them or beneath them, passing notes so innocuous half of them didn’t even realize that they’re part of an information network. Some of them even think that they’re part of a different network, or that they’re working for someone else.”

“In other words, enough shadows and clouds that no one can fly straight,” Hain said.

“Bingo,” she said, snapping her talons. “But they’ve got a reputation for being solid with their information. If anyone knows anything about Anubis’s whereabouts in the city, it’d be The Violet Heart.”

“How do they distribute that information?” Hain asked.

She shrugged. “I don’t know. But they do. They’ve been making slow but steady waves for the past couple of years. They seem to know a lot of stuff.” She glanced down at her chest, checking her tan pelt for crumbs. “And that would give me something to do today that could net us exactly what we need while Alchemy and Frost go talk with that professor.”

“You think they’ll find anything?”

“I don’t know,” she said, a yawn forcing its way free of her beak on the tail end of her words. She could feel the sandwich sitting in her stomach like a warm brick. She wanted to curl up and take a nap. A nap would feel wonderful. “But anything they find is helpful. And the guy did write the article on Anubis. He’d probably know.”

“Right,” Hain said, slapping his talons down on the table with a sound that made her jerk awake. “Well then, you look like you could use a quick charge. Go get some sleep.”

“What about—?” she began.

“I’ll talk with Books,” Hain said. “And look over whatever he’s brought with him. I don’t have much else to do anyway. I technically can’t order you around, but … go get some sleep.”

“Right,” she rose, tucking her cloak behind her wings as she made her way over to the stairs. Hain was right. A little rest would do her good.

The rooms that Books had provided the safe house with were spacious, almost absurdly so, as if he’d purchased them under the impression that each one needed to have room for a fight, an interrogation, or maybe both at the same time. Still, each had come equipped with a small shower and wall mirror, so as odd and probably adventure-fiction inspired as it was, she wasn’t going to complain.

She stepped up to the mirror, eyeing her rust-red plumage as she unwrapped the dark cloth strips she’d placed on her forelimbs the night before. She didn’t look especially nice—feathers on her head were out of place, and a quick spread of her wings showed that there were a number of spots that needed attention, attention that she hadn’t been giving over the last few days.

There’s only so much time in the day, she thought as she finished unwrapping her legs, the long strips of dark grey cloth dropping to the floor. I need a break.

It only took the small shower a moment to get lukewarm, the cistern on the roof of the house still heated from the sun the day before, and she ducked her head under the stream, not even bothering to close the glass door and ignoring completely the water that splattered into the room. It would dry.

She stood for a moment on her hind legs, letting the water wash over her, giving her wings a few twists to make sure that both of them at least got slightly wet before reaching out and shutting the flow off. Her towel came next, followed by a careful, if quick, preening of both her wings. Several loose feathers found their way to the trashcan next to her bed.

Bed. The round, nested shape seemed to be calling to her now. She wanted sleep, and she wanted it badly. A bench would have done at the moment, a nest seemed like overkill. Still, the rounded beds had been what Books had stocked the home with, so …

She dropped down atop the cushy material, stretching her forelimbs out in front of her and then curling up in the bottom of the nest.

Work could wait a few hours. That was all she would need. Just a few … hours …

She drifted off to sleep.

* * *

“Good morning,” Hain said as Blade walked down the steps, his gruff voice echoing through the apartment. “I was thinking I’d come up on a little bit longer and wake you up if I didn’t see you soon.”

She nodded, her brain still slightly groggy despite the quick, cold spray she’d subjected it to after she’d woken up. At least her wings were now in better shape, following a second preening to take care of anything she’d missed earlier.

“How long was I asleep?” she asked as she sat down. “And what’s the news?”

“Just under four hours,” Hain said. “Alchemy and Frost already left, after the news that was in the paper this morning.”

“Which was?” she asked.

“Another crypt was broken into,” Hain said, pushing a paper across the table at her. “Ten points if you can guess which one.”

“I’m guessing one of the sealed, clanless tombs that Alchemy and Frost were looking into yesterday?”

“Got it,” Hain said as she glanced down at the paper. “The one that belonged to the Traveler clan.”

“Never heard of them.”

“Broken up during the Founding,” Hain said. “At least, according to the paper. They have a nice little summary of the clanless tombs and who owned them, since this is apparently a string of criminal activity.”

“Odds on them guarding the rest of them now?”

“Pretty good,” Hain said. “Odds on them doing it successfully?”

“Without knowing what they’re up against? Iffy.” She shifted the paper, running her eyes over the writing as she sucked in any relevant details. “Same thing, huh? Graves disturbed, things smashed, bones missing.”

“Yep.”

“And it was sealed, so we don’t know if he found something inside of it or not.”

“Nope. Though if his airship disappears, I guess we’ll know.” His words sent a chill down her spine, and she shook her head.

“Then I guess I’ll have to make a quick stop and see if it’s still there when I go out,” she said, lowering the paper. “Not much new in here.”

“No,” Hain agreed. “But it does tell us that Anubis is definitely looking for something specific.”

“You think so?” she said.

The old griffon nodded, his grey feathers shifting as a grim smile moved across his face. “Of course,” he said. “I’ve been thinking about it, and if he just wanted bones to make more of his skeleton things, he could get them almost anywhere. Tartarus, even if he just needed griffon bones specifically for some odd reason, there’s a lot of way he could get them legally. If he’s digging into sealed crypts, it’s because he wants something.”

“Something his old followers left?” she asked. It make sense. Why else come here? “Or maybe as a sign to any current followers?”

Hain shrugged. “I don’t know. Do you think he has current followers?”

“Anything’s possible,” she said, eyeing the paper once more. “Though it seems there would be better ways of announcing it. Him searching for something is better bet.”

“Maybe another one of those crystal pieces?” Hain offered. She shook her head.

“No, I don’t think so. The third is supposed to be in safe hooves ... But I seem to recall him saying something about that not being a problem.” She frowned. “Maybe another crystal key, though I can’t recall anything like that being in our history.”

“If it was sealed in a crypt as an heirloom, we wouldn’t,” Hain pointed out. “Still, that fits the theory that he’s hunting for something.”

She nodded, fanning her wings slightly as one of her wings itched. “I’ll agree on that. So then the question becomes ‘should we be worried about it?’”

“He’s an immortal,” Hain said. “We should be worried already. But in all seriousness ... “ He shook his head. “There’s no way to know. We can assume that because he’s looking for something it must be bad, but how bad is what we don’t know.”

“And if we do figure out what it is, how can we use that to our advantage?” Blade finished, pushing herself away from the table as she stood. “As usual, we need more information.”

“And you think this Violet Heart will know what he’s after?” Hain asked, a look of scepticism on his face.

“Maybe,” she said, shrugging as she clicked her talons together. She was hungry again, but she could get food on the way. She’d be taking most of their reeds with them anyway. “If half of what I’ve heard is true, they’d be able to tell us what he had for breakfast this morning. If nothing else, they’re bound to give us something. And regardless of what it is, if they have it, it’s important somehow.”

“Get back to me as soon as you can,” Hain said as she began gathering her things. “And not just because it’s boring being stuck in here with nothing to do. I’ll be honest, Blade, I don’t like this. The longer we wait, the longer he has.”

“I don’t like it either,” she said, tightening her bags over her shoulder and feeling the bands of reeds shift inside them. “But we can’t strike at something we can’t see. We need the whole picture.” She turned towards the door, running through the mental list of contacts she’d known years ago who might have the connections she needed.

“Until then, we stalk.”

* * *

Professor Stoneweather’s office wasn’t quite what Frost had expected. Though, at the same time, she couldn’t quite admit to having really been sure exactly what it was she had expected. She’d been aware that some of the books she’d read as a filly, with their depictions of stuffy, confined offices full of dark wood and tightly packed awards, had probably erred more on the side of dramatization than fact, at least when the heroine had been sent to deal with her professors—which seemed to happen almost every book, regardless of how many mysteries she solved. But in spite of that awareness, that knowledge of fiction, she’d still expected there to be some basis in reality.

Maybe that’s just what Equestrian schools look like, she thought as she looked around the room once more. It was wide, spacious, looking almost more like a workspace or a small-sized workshop than the oppressive dungeon her reading had waxed on about. There were some expected similarities, such as the hardwood desk that both she and Alchemy were seated in front of, and the small array of degrees and other awards hanging on the wall nearby, but everything else was different. Massive windows took up one wall, the sunlight adding to the already bright interior light. Row after row of shelving filled the others, and she could see several open workspaces covered in parchment, pottery fragments, and assorted other items similar to those on the shelves.

Even then, it wasn’t enough. Two portable chalkboards were sitting at angles opposite one another. One was covered with row after row of Griffon text, line after line of what looked like oddly organized scratches to her eyes. The other was dominated by a large map depicting what looked like the southern half of the Empire and the desert that seemed to separate it from the Plainslands. There were small notes annotated across the map. More griffon Scratch that she couldn’t read.

“Well,” Alchemy said, his head tilting in every which direction as he took in the office. “I certainly like it. Reminds me of the Plainslands.”

“How’s that?” she asked, staring at the map. There seemed to be a number of markers in the desert. A desert, she thought as she looked at the tan-colored symbols. I thought this was supposed to be a desert. What would an actual desert be like? She’d seen pictures, of course, but pictures couldn’t transmit heat.

“It’s open,” Alchemy said, still looking around. “In Equestria, personal offices tend to be a bit smaller—

Hah! So Fancy Drew hadn’t lied!

—and they tend to do more of their hooves-on stuff in shared spaces,” Alchemy continued, oblivious to her victory. “In the Plainslands the offices and workspace are often shared. They’ll all be under one roof, with smaller, paper walls you can move around to give yourself privacy when you need it. This is pretty nice, though,” he said as the door behind them opened. “Very open. Very airy.”

“Teşekkür ederim,” came a light-spirited, if gravelly, voice as a broad shouldered, long-beaked griffon walked past them and sat down behind the desk. “I am Professor Stoneweather. Am I to assume that you are Flask and Glimmer, the two ponies I’m supposed to be meeting with today?” There was a hard accent to his words, but the enunciation was flawless.

“We are,” Alchemy said, nodding. “We were wondering if you could help us with some research of ours.”

“That depends,” the professor said, cocking a dark-grey, feathered eyebrow. “What are you asking after? My specialty is ancient griffon culture and clans during the pre-founding period, right up to the founding, though I know quite a bit of history surrounding the period as well. The secretary didn’t specify what you’d asked.”

“It’s because it was from something you’d written for one of your books,” Frost said quickly. “Specifically, a segment you wrote for a book on the immortals.”

“Oh?” Stoneweather said. “What about it?”

She decided to go right to the core of the issue. “Anubis.” His eyes widened slightly at the name. “The book mentioned that after he fled the Jackal Kingdom, he went about starting up ‘death cults’ and might have started them in the Empire—”

“Pre-Empire, actually,” the professor said. “Had the Empire existed at that time, I doubt Anubis would have been allowed to walk so freely, but please, continue.”

She nodded. “Anyway, the book didn’t go into much detail, but it did say that rumors of such cults existed for hundred—” She caught herself. “Well, for a long, long time.” She could see Stoneweather’s eyes narrowing, a look of concentration on his face. “Also, there was something about them possibly being linked to the lost city of Turuncu? The book didn’t go into any further detail about it.”

“It wouldn’t,” Stoneweather said. “It’s not exactly something to be covered in a book on the immortals. Had you picked up a book discussing legends of the lost city, you might have found something.”

“What about the cults, then?” Alchemy said, leaning forward. “They did exist?”

“Well, yes,” the professor said. “And no. There still exists a large amount of debate on that subject, unfortunately. While we do know for certain that there were individuals who openly or in secret championed the cause of Anubis and heralded him as their ruler, whether or not those leanings extended towards their associated clans isn’t quite as clear.”

“Were any clans known for having an association with Anubis?” Frost asked.

“Not by clan, no,” Stoneweather said, his long beak clicking as he leaned back. “There are records that hint that there may have been large numbers of followers—death cults, if you will—and some evidence has suggested that small groups of such may have once existed, but concrete evidence of anything past that has been hard to come by. Basically, we have stories, but little hard evidence. So, if there were dedicated large groups of Anubis supporters before or during the founding of the Empire, they kept their intentions—and their signs—well hidden.”

“What about the stories?” Alchemy asked. “What did the stories say?”

“Secondclaw accounts, really,” came the reply. “Urban legends, the kind of tales that were passed down until they became kit’s bedtime stories. Offclaw accounts in ancient history texts, that kind of thing.”

“What did they say, though?” Frost said. “What was at the core?”

“Well …” Stoneweather seemed taken aback by the directness of her question, his eyes narrowing. “Usually it was along the lines of ‘Anubis is gone, but one day he will return.’ The sort of ‘faithful believers’ sort of mentality. Understand, this is all legend. Aside from a few historical artifacts and records from specific individuals, there isn’t very much evidence to indicate that they actually existed.”

“So what do those stories share with the lost city of Turuncu?” Alchemy asked. “I don’t see the connection there are all.”

Professor Stoneweather’s eyes narrowed further, and Frost had the distinct impression that he was analyzing them, as if trying to track back the origin of their questions. “Why do you ask?”

“Curiousity,” Frost said. “The book didn’t explain it very well, and since we were here—”

“No,” the professor said. “I mean why study it at all? Why come in and ask me directly?”

“You wrote the book,” Alchemy said. “Who better to ask about the lost city?”

“Especially,” Frost added, “when they don’t offer an explanation for the claim.”

Stoneweather nodded, his expression shifting somewhat. “Well, I suppose it can’t hurt to explain my reasoning. One of my old students had the same question, ended up doing quite a bit of research on her own into the subject. That was why I wrote about the connection in the book—perhaps you’ve heard of her? Stal?”

Should we have? Frost glanced at Alchemy before shrugging and offering the griffon a shake of her head.

“No?” he said. He nodded, and she noticed the feathers around his ruff lowering. Odd. When had they risen?

“Well, she was the one who got me thinking about that,” Stoneweather said, waving his talons like it was nothing. “In fact, I believe I added that line because of the points she made in her thesis. Are either of you familiar with the stories of the lost city?”

“I’m not quite as familiar with it as I could be,” Alchemy said.

“Ah, well,” the professor said, settling in his seat. “It’s very straightforward. So the story goes, around the time of the founding of the Empire, several clans did not wish to join together in under the first Emperor. Instead, they retreated out into the Turuncu desert and built a magnificent city. Now, the details vary as to location and purpose, but in the end, the story is always the same—cut off from the Empire, the city withered, and its inhabitants either slunk back or were buried beneath the sands, usually for some offence against the immortals or the Creator.”

“So what does that have to do with Anubis?” Frost asked.

“Well, very little … maybe.” Stoneweather shifted in his seat, his beak half open as if he was trying to decide what to say next. “However,” he said at last. “My student Stal was always fascinated by legends like these and took a new approach at it. She suggested that perhaps the story had existed in another form before the founding of the empire, that its origins lay elsewhere, and that the griffons following the Founding had adapted it to suit their own ideas. An interesting theory.”

“What’d she use to support it?” Alchemy asked.

“Oh … a variety of things?” the professor replied, and Frost didn’t miss the way his ruff rose slightly. Something about the question had made him uncomfortable. “She cross-examined a number of ancient writings and found evidence that perhaps the idea of a lost city had been told before.”

“By followers of Anubis?” Frost asked. There was no doubt in her mind now. Stoneweather looked nervous, though he was trying to hide it.

“Well, yes,” he said. “Although it was just a similarity, an association. An idea that could have been repeated and then exploded into the popular mind following the Founding.”

“What was the association?” she asked.

“You could read the paper,” he said. “It thoroughly outlines—”

“What was the association?” she asked again, her voice so cold she could feel it cut through the room.

Stoneweather’s face hardened. “Why should I tell you?”

“Why don’t you want to tell us?” Alchemy countered. “Especially if we could find it by looking for one of your student’s papers?”

“Because … Because …” his face darkened. “Because you two-faced con-artists have tried one too many times to steal my research, that’s why!” he shouted, his wings flaring out to their full extension.

“Your research—?” Alchemy began, but there was no stopping the professor. Not now.

“You go crawling back to those buzzards, those vultures, in the Clouddiver clan, and you tell them that they aren’t going to just waltz in here and get me to hand over more of our research—”

“Professor!” Alchemy said. The cry went ignored.

“Well you can just go back to those ‘Clod-divers,’ and you can tell them that I’m not going to play their game! They’re not—”

“Professor!” Alchemy shouted, rising from his seat. “We aren’t with the Clouddiver clan. I don’t even know who the Clouddiver clan is!” He sank back into his seat, shaking his head. “But if it’s going to be that much of a problem, we’ll go read your student’s paper, if you’ll tell us where it is.”

“Archeology wing,” the professor said, suspicion still on his face. “But you won’t find any details in there. You need to learn to do your own research, rather than stealing someone else’s! Lanetli hırsızlar!”

“And we would find this paper how?” Frost asked, keeping her voice level. The professor grabbed a quill from his desk and scrawled a quick note.

“Here,” he said, passing the note over to her. She floated it up in front of her, but she couldn’t read it. It was Griffon. “Take that to the secretary, and she’ll get the paper for you. But you won’t learn anything new from it.” He gave them a smirk. “Nor will your bosses.”

“I’m telling you—” Alchemy began, but Stoneweather cut him off with a wave of his wings.

“No,” he said. “I don’t believe that. Not now. If you are being truly genuine, then I apologize most profusely, and tell you that Stal’s paper will have the answers you seek. However, given the timing, I find that highly unlikely. Iyi günler, and good bye! Now please, leave my office!”

“Well,” Frost said as the door slammed shut behind them. They could see several eyes peering through windows, drawn by the shouting. “That could have gone better.”

“Yes,” Alchemy said. “It could have. He thought we wanted to steal his research?”

“That’s what it sounded like,” she said, eyeing the slip of paper. “I can’t say that I’m that surprised.”

“Wait, how?”Alchemy asked as she began moving down the hall towards the front entrance. “Why?”

“Because ... “ She shook her head. Because that’s what would have happened in a Fancy Drew book. “Never mind, it was a silly reason, and it had nothing to do with anything that happened in there.”

She passed the note to the secretary, who glared at them and then told them to take a seat before darting off. I guess something about that note mentioned the professor’s suspicions, she thought. That or his yelling was audible all the way down here.

They sat in silence until the secretary returned, though on Alchemy’s part she wasn’t sure if the silence was because he was thinking about the conversation with the professor or just because he didn’t have anything to say. In either case, the secretary passed her the paper, she took it in her magic, looked at it and—”

“We can’t read it,” she said, looking up at the griffon. “By chance is there a copy in Equestrian?”

“Still going with the ruse, huh?” came the reply. Well, at least that answered the question of whether or not the secretary had an opinion on matters. “Very well.” They took the paper and vanished once more. At least the griffon was determined to do their job.

“Here,” the secretary said, passing her the paper a few minutes later. She motioned to Alchemy as they both hunched over it.

“Links Between Anubian Cults and Post-Foundation Folklore,” Frost read, her eyebrows lifting in surprise. “On the Similarities and Underpinnings of Ancient Anubite Beliefs with Post-Foundation Tales and Stories? Is that actually the title?”

“It is,” Alchemy said, nodding. “You should see some of the papers I wrote when I was in the Plainslands. They have one there dating from several hundred years ago, written by a famous monk, that is quite famous.” He smiled. “The title is actually longer than the rest of the work.”

“That’s very strange,” Frost said, turning her eyes back towards the paper. “I really hope this doesn’t turn out to all be written like that.” She glanced down at the name. Stal Freefeather. Catchy.

“Well?” Alchemy said. “Turn the page.” She complied, flipping to the first page and starting at the first line.

“Nothing,” she said after a moment of skimming, and flipped the page. Alchemy started to protest, but she shook her head. “We’re looking for one thing, and one thing only,” she said, flipping the page again. More long swaths of text, still talking about post-formation folklore. Skip.

She flipped the pages again. And again. And—Stop!

“One moment,” she said, eyeing the chunk of block text. “What this?”

“It looks like a poem,” Alchemy said, leaning forward slightly. She scanned over the lines. It was a poem … or at least had been before the translation had gone to work on it.

“This text was purported to be an ancient chant or rhyme among the followers of Anubis,” she read aloud, scrolling her eyes across the paragraph above the quote. “A mantra that was passed from follower to follower within the cult as an affirmation to their devotion. To date, only one surviving copy of this mantra can be found, engraved on a stone tablet dating from just before the founding. However, the carving was damaged, and is only a partial record of the complete mantra. Even so, the elements of what remain and the tales of the lost city that date from this period share many similarities.”

She paused, her eyes flickering down to the “start” of the poem as beside her, Alchemy let out a quiet whistle.

“So?” he asked. “Are you going to read it?”

“Yeah,” she said, running her eyes over the first line. “It kind of picks up partway through though.”

“It’s fine.”

She nodded and began. “Something, then ‘we suffered anew,’” she read. “‘Toil and work. Life and death in the service of the ruler. The foundation of the entrusted goal,’ or plan, according to a subnote.” She glanced at Alchemy, but his attentive look told her everything she wanted to know. He was just as alert as she was.

“‘Built by blood, born with bone, the city swept beneath the sand,’” she continued. “‘Buried, lost, its walls a tomb, the throne of the Lord of Bones abandoned.’” A shiver rolled down the space between her shoulderblades as she saw the final line, and she looked up, her eyes meeting Alchemy’s. “‘Buried, lost, the ancient city, we celebrate its name.” For a moment the front office was quiet, the final word hanging on the tip of her tongue.

“Necropolis.”

Count of Laws Broken: 0
Total Laws Broken: 90
Damage Value (In Bits): 0
Total Damage Value (In Bits): 390,941

Chapter 28 - A Violet Heart

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Sheerwater - East Market District

From the outside, the shop didn’t look like much. It was plain. Unobtrusive. Strands of cured meat hung in the front window, a decent enough advertisement of the proprietor’s business even if one discounted the sign hanging over the front door, which said, quite plainly, “Stockholm’s Meats.”

Classy, Blade thought with a touch of irony. Definitely going for the basic approach. It made sense, then, that it was her next stop in her hunt for information. A hunt that was becoming almost too widespread for her tastes. The more natural, the more seamless an informant was, the less chance they’d be caught.

Not that anyone working in the place probably knows anything, she thought as the door swung open beneath her talons. The whole shop had the appearance of a smaller link in the chain, just one more stop along the ladder upwards to the information she wanted. I doubt the one I’ll be speaking to knows anything past what I’m giving to him and what he’s giving to me—both of which are in turn either going to or have been passed from someone further up.

Security. It was all about security.

The shop was small, though it made good use of the available space. Cured meats hung from the ceiling, dangling just above head height, each with a quickly-scrawled price tag attached at the base. Three sets of shoulder-high shelving filled the floor space, one of them packed with more cured meats, the other two closed off and chilled from the look of the condensation on the glass. All three were slightly to one side, leaving a clear and well worn path towards the rear counter, where the butcher himself was at work.

“Can I help you?” he asked. His butcher’s knife came down with a sharp thunk as he spoke, punctuating his words.

“Yes,” Blade said, not bothering to switch to Equestrian. A good number of the contacts she’d spoken with already had only spoken Griffon. There was no point in bothering to do otherwise here. “I’m here to pick up a delivery order.”

“Right,” the butcher said, wiping his talons on his apron and then trotting over to the counter. His feathers had a dark shade to them, almost making it look like he was wearing a mask around his eyes. “What’s the name?”

“Konrad,” Blade said, holding up the note she’d been given by her last “contact.” “Konrad Jossed. He said you’d have it ready for me?”

“Konrad? Konrad?” The griffon looked puzzled for a moment before reaching for a small wooden box containing a row of notecards and flipping through them. “Oh!” he said after a moment, though she noticed he hadn’t actually stopped on any particular card. “Konrad! Of course! Just a moment, miss. I’ll need to go make sure his order is ready.”

Of course you will, Blade thought, but she smiled and gave the butcher a nod. “Fine. I’ll be here.” Waiting. Like usual. The butcher reached out and plucked the note from her claws before vanishing through a door behind the counter, off into the back.

He’s probably meeting with someone back there, she thought as she watched the door swing back and forth. Or meeting with someone who’s here because someone else gave them something to pass along … ugh. She shook her head. This is a rat maze of connections.

It hadn’t taken her too long to get in touch with some of her old inner-city contacts. The first two had been surprised to see her but hadn’t been able to help, only knowing that there was a connection to The Violet Heart in the city but not knowing anything about how to contact them. Not their business.

The third, on the other claw, hadn’t known directly, but had pointed her in the direction of a vague hunch. A hunch which had seen a misstep or two, as well as a broken wrist on the part of an overzealous pickpocket who thought he been higher up on the pecking order than he really was, but it had gotten her the first link in the chain.

She just hadn’t realized it would be such a long chain. She’d gone to a street musician and dropped the required “payment,” seven reeds with a note bundled inside one of them, into her collection basket, and then waited as she’d been advised to in a nearby square. Almost an hour later, on what had felt like her hundredth browsing of the square’s collection of food carts and temporary booths, a young kit had approached her asking for a few reeds worth of change, and in the process had passed her a response. Which had told her to go somewhere else and talk to a different individual. That had been four hours ago.

Now she was in a butcher shop in the east market district. Before that she’d been a stylist’s shop out on the west side of the city, a bar down near the docks … even a food market in the sprawl across the river. Her path had taken her all across Sheerwater, to almost every conceivable location in the city.

And now I’m here, she thought. Wondering if I’m just going to be sent out on another wild chase or if I’m finally going to get somewhere. Each time she’d met another link in the chain there had been a minimal exchange of information, the barest passing of name and intent. Though given what I’m dealing with, there’s little room for interpretation of what I want. The question was, would they have it? And would she find out before the day was over?

She was definitely upsetting a couple cabbage carts with her more aggressive push. Two of the locations she’d been to so far had told her to “wait until the next day” to make contact, but she’d ignored their advice and gone ahead anyway. Time was of the essence. At worst, they’d shove her away, and she wouldn’t get anything, which would have been the same result as if they’d wanted her to wait for a week. And if they did understand, then her actions probably were going to cost her. They told The Violet Heart’s network that she was desperate.

Not that it matters, she thought, tapping her talons idly on the counter. We are. We’re facing something almost blind. We need every scrap we can get.

And if The Violet Heart had it, she was going to get it.

The door behind the counter shifted, twitching before swinging wide open, revealing the proprietor once more. He had another note clutched in his talons, and she held back a sigh of disappointment as he walked up to the counter.

Another note. Great. More travel.

“I’m sorry miss,” the butcher said. “But I’m afraid Konrad’s order isn’t available. He still owes me for that last catering job I did.” Translation: we have what you want, but you’re going to have to pay for it.

“Oh,” she said, frowning. “How much does he owe?”

“Quite a lot, I’m afraid,” the butcher said. “He’s made quite a few orders, and some of the outstanding balance hasn’t been settled.”

She sighed. “How much?” she asked, leaning forward.

The butcher shook his head. “Not enough to pay today. If you come back later—”

“How. Much?” she growled, her wings flaring a little. “I don’t have time for later.”

“The amounts are large enough that they’ll need to be tailored to by a third party,” the butcher said, his composure hardly shifting, though it did appear for a moment that his eye twitched. He held out the note. “When Konrad is ready to pay, please have him present himself with the money. Give him this note if he has any questions.”

She snatched the note from his claws. I hate this cloak and dagger stuff, she thought as she glanced down at it. It was another address, along with an amount. Three thousand reeds and a plus sign. The meaning was clear. Bring the money, go to the address.

“And if he asks for your name?” she said, still scowling.

“Able,” the griffon said. “Able Duty.”

Right, and my name is Fleur de Liss, she thought as she nodded. It was a code phrase, just like all the others she’d been given. Independently, each portion of the name probably meant something, sent some message to her next contact about what she was like.

“Thanks,” she said. “Hopefully this will be the last thing I have to do today. I’ve been running errands for hours now.”

The butcher shrugged, though she was certain he’d understood her sloppy attempt at subterfuge. “Sorry,” he said as he walked back over to his work and hefted the knife. “I do what I can.”

Translation: I’m just the middle griffon. Don’t bother asking. I don’t know.

“Right,” she said, taking another glance at the address on the note before stuffing it into her bags. “Well, when I see Konrad I’ll let him know.”

“You do that,” the butcher said, already lifting his knife into the air. It came down with a meaty thunk, parting whatever was on the chopping block. “Have a nice day.”

“You too,” she said, backing up before turning and walking out of the shop.

So much for the hope of getting anywhere fast, she thought as she glanced at the position of the sun. Still, at least this address isn’t too far. A good half-hour’s walk, or a ten minute flight. Five if she pushed it. She spread her wings, trotting out into the middle of the street and launching herself into the sky.

There was one interesting factor she’d noticed so far about her hunt. None of the places she’d stopped in had been anywhere near any of the city’s pillars. The closest any of them had gotten was within several-hundred yards of the bases. But nothing yet had actually been on or near one of the pillars, and judging from the address she was looking for, the next stop she made wouldn’t either.

I wonder if that’s deliberate or just a byproduct of the kind of sapients The Violet Heart seems to recruit? she wondered as she flew over the rooftops, beating her wings only occasionally. The hot rise of air off of the stone rooftops and streets was more than enough to keep her in a decent glide, and she twitched her wings, adjusting her course as the winds parted around her.

A few minutes later, she glided down to a gentle stop on the somewhat busy street the note had given her. She pulled the small piece of paper from her pocket, running her eyes over the hastily scrawled building number and then looking down the street, searching for the match.

There. It was a large, wide building, with plenty of glass facing the street side, and a second level that was only kept from towering over the rest of the street by the broadness of the structure’s front. Madame Poleclear’s Music Academy, Blade read on the front of the glass. All students welcome. Huh. Well, I’ve come this far.

She walked across the street, picking her way through the crowd as she made her way to the front door. A chorus of faint noises reached her, distant horns and other instruments mixing in a muffled cacophony that was thankfully kept at low volume by what was probably a copious amount of buffering.

The door swung neatly inward at her touch, revealing a quite modern looking interior lobby with a scattering assortment of chairs, tables, and reading material. A crystal clear ring echoed through the lobby as she stepped inside, several waiting patrons looking up from their magazines or newspapers to check who the new arrival was before turning their attention back to their reading material.

Pretty upscale, Blade thought as the secretary behind the desk fixed her with a wide smile. Interesting that they’d operate out of a place this attention grabbing.

“Name, please?” the secretary behind the desk asked as she walked up to the smooth metal surface.

Definitely upscale, Blade thought as she eyed the silvery, metal desk. Very modern. Very clean. “Able Duty,”she said. The secretary frowned, her feathered brow furrowing as she glanced down at the calendar in front of her.

“I’m sorry,” she said, “but are you sure? I don’t have anyone by that name on our schedule today.”

The meaning behind the question was clear, though if she hadn’t caught it, the secretary’s opening of her calendar to the next day and the tapping of her claw on the date would have made that clear.

“Check again,” Blade said, leaning forward slightly but otherwise doing her best to just look like a normal patron. “I had it rescheduled just this morning. It’s today.” She could see a few of the other clientele looking up at her from the corner of her eye, curious expressions on their faces. Were any of them guards? It was possible. She tensed her muscles slightly, just in case she needed to move. “Trust me,” she said, making sure to keep the patrons on the edges of her vision as she moved her focus back to the secretary. “It’s today. Here’s my receipt.” She dropped the note the butcher had given her on top of the calendar.

The secretary stared down at the note for a moment before reaching out and picking it up. “I see. My mistake,” she said at last as she read the note. “Did our representative inform you that there would be an additional cost for the rescheduling?”

Big surprise. “No,” she said, shaking her head. “But that’s fine.”

“Very well then,” the secretary said, rising. Blade prepared herself for the inevitable “Please wait here” that was going to follow.

“Follow me please.”

Or not, she thought with a little surprise as the secretary moved over to one of the glass doors that led deeper into the building. Either I just became enough of a bother that I’m being taken out back for a talking to or polite rejection, or I’m finally reaching the end of the chain. Part of her almost hoped that if it was the former option, it’d be a more “aggressive” talking to. After walking around all day, being given an excuse to let her claws out would feel good.

“This way,” her guide said, moving down a long hallway with heavy doors on both sides. She could hear muffled musical notes coming from behind each of the doors, everything from long, off-key trumpet sounds to deep, baritone voices that she could almost feel in her chest.

They reached the back of the hallway and made their way up a set of stairs which doubled back, putting them in an identical hallway that ran along the length of the building directly above the last one. Again, she could hear the sounds of practice coming from behind several of the doors.

Interesting, she thought as the secretary stopped about halfway down the hall and pushed one of the doors open, gesturing for her to enter. Maybe I am finally getting to the end of the chain. I didn’t expect a music school though.

The room the secretary had led her to looked like a simple practice room—at least, that’s what she expected it was, considering where she was. The door shut behind her with a faint click and an admonition to “Wait here,” from her guide, but a quick check showed that it wasn’t locked. She was free to come and go as she pleased. She took a seat on the low bench that was provided and began to examine the room around her. Worst-case scenario, she waited for an hour or so and then left, having wasted a good portion of her day. Best-case, she got some intelligence. Or a large, angry-looking griffon bursting into the room and applying a little “pressure.”

That’d be pretty nice, she thought, examining her talons for a moment. Sends a nice clear message when you take down a message-kit like that. Sure, they’d probably never want to give her a good deal on business again, but information was information. And honestly, if it came down to battering some muscle, it’d look good in her favor.

On the other claw, though … The building was a good place for information exchange. Even through the thick, heavily padded walls around her she could still hear bits and pieces of music—or short spurts of something resembling music—resonating through the building. If a conversation was going to take place, it’d be hard for anyone to overhear it even if they were right outside the door. Smart.

A soft click echoed through the room, and she tensed, her eyes darting first to the door, and then around the rest of the small room as she searched for the source of the noise. It didn’t take long to find. One of baffling panels in the back of the room had moved forward, and as she watched, it swung outward, a lone figure stepping out of the dimly-lit space behind it.

She almost blink in surprise as her eyes took in the diminutive figure. Whatever she’d been expecting, the small, brownish-grey griffon sitting in front of her certainly wasn’t it.

“Surprised?” the griffon asked, her voice as clear and sharp as a piece of glass. “Were you expecting something a little more dramatic maybe? Taller? More voluptuous?”

“Taller,” Blade said, ignoring the rest of her comments. “Though if we’re going to go for classic spy-thriller stuff, you should probably consider a dye job.”

“Oh, believe me, I have,” the griffon said, gently closing the hidden panel behind her and lowering herself on the room's other low bench. There was a fluidity to the way she moved—not a fluidity that suggested a familiarity with combat, but with the arts. Dancing. Singing. Style. “I could go for the old, blind seer approach. Dye myself white, get a spell for my eyes, make them look blood-red.” She shrugged. “Or I could go with the other end of the spectrum. All black and sensual.”

“Wrong crowd in my case,” Blade said.

The griffon scoffed. “Never underestimate the power of jealousy,” she said, her voice dropping to a low purr as she twirled a single claw.

“Unless you can put that talon of your’s through someone’s armor, don’t expect much of that out of me,” Blade said. The griffon’s subtle smirk dropped from her face, her demeanor changing almost immediately.

“Thunderheads,” she said, an annoyed tone in her voice. “This is why I don’t like dealing with wandering claws. You’re all about the results. Action. No respect for the arts.”

“Usually it’s because we’re short on time,” Blade said. “We’re griffons of action. Now, speaking of the action—”

“Yes, yes, yes, I know,” the griffon said. “You want information. Information on an immortal. Let me tell you, Blade Sunchaser—” The name drop wasn’t subtle, but nor was it surprising. If she hadn’t told them who she was, they would have found out. “—your actions today have upset quite a few sapients I know.”

“I don’t have time to be patient,” Blade said. “Besides, most employers I know don’t mind a good shake-up every once in a while.”

“They’re not employees. Most of them aren’t even aware of most of what they do,” came the reply. “We’re a very loose organization.”

“Noted,” Blade said. “I still need information.”

“Alarming information. Your request had a few odd looks come with it, I think, Miss Sunchaser.”

“You keep using my name a lot. Got one I can refer to you by?” Blade asked. “You wouldn’t happen to be the infamous Madam Clearpole, would you?”

“No,” the griffon said, shaking her head. “But you can call me Grey.”

“Miss Grey? Missus Grey?”

“Just ‘Grey,’” she said, shaking her head. “Now, about what you wanted.”

“Information on the whereabouts of an immortal somewhere inside the city,” Blade said. “Or at least nearby enough that he can strike out at targets within the city.”

“Mm-hmm,” Grey said, her expression neutral, though if The Violet Heart’s information was as good as it was rumored to be, Grey already knew. “What kind of information?”

“Anything you can tell me would be good,” Blade said. “Where he is, what he’s doing … But most of all, more than anything else, what he’s after.”

“And why would The Violet Heart know that?” Grey asked, lifting one eyebrow.

Blade narrowed her eyes, cutting her claws across the air with a broad slash. “Don’t play the innocent, Grey,” she said. “I’m familiar enough with the stories about The Violet Heart. Information is how they operate. Information for information, or money. An immortal is exactly the kind of information your network—”

“The Violet Heart’s,” Grey interrupted.

“Yeah, theirs’, whoever they are,” Blade said. “Regardless, it’s exactly the kind of high-profile information that they would want.”

For a moment the room was quiet, and then Grey nodded. Blade could have sighed in relief. “Very well, Blade,” Grey said. “You want information on Anubis. We will give you what you can.”

“You have information on him? Up-to-date information?” she asked.

“Some,” Grey said. “Admittedly, of little use to us, and our source of information … dried up.”

“How so?” Blade asked.

“They vanished two days ago,” Grey replied. “There have been several attempts to pressure his contacts, which forced us to disengage an entire network to keep the intrusion from tracking us back. Since then, we’ve held off. But we will give you what we have. Well, part of it.”

“Part of—!” Blade began.

“Which part is up to you,” Grey said, ignoring her outburst. She was so calm, she could have been discussing lunch. “You don’t have the funds to purchase both. You can learn where he is, or what he wants.”

Easy. “What he wants,” Blade said. “What he’s looking for.” Because that’s where he’ll be, and that’s where we’ll trap him.

“I assumed as much,” Grey said. “Now. Payment.”

“I have three thousand reeds right here,” Blade said, tugging her bags off her back. “Plus whatever extra you wanted to charge for the quick meeting.” She was close now. Her heart was pumping in her chest, wings almost quivering with anticipation.

“No.”

Her thoughts came to a screeching halt. “What do you mean, ‘no?’” she asked. “That was the agreement earlier.”

“There’s an additional addendum with your name.”

“Wait, my name? You have a file on—?”

“It isn’t a file,” Grey said. “And it isn’t mine. But when I accessed our network, your name raised a flag. The Violet Heart has an interest in you, apparently, after a job you took in Equestria a few months ago.”

Uh oh. She felt her stomach start to drop a little. That’s not good.

“As you may be unfamiliar with how our network operates, we’re all about information,” Grey said. “We barter and sell information, sometimes for currency, more often for other information. However, in your case, you’ve been offered something I’ve never heard before. A favor.”

“What?”

“A favor,” Grey repeated. “In other words, we give you the information now, as a retainer. Then, in the future, you’ve offered your services to The Violet Heart for one job.”

“I don’t like the sound of that,” Blade said, her ruff rising as she glared at the small griffon. “That sounds like a scenario I don’t want to get into.”

“Even for the information you want?” Grey asked.

“Even for that,” she said, shaking her head. “A favor? A nameless favor? Down the road? No dice. There are way too many ways for that to be abused. For someone to ask me to throw a job, to betray a client—”

“I misspoke,” Grey said, interrupting her growing rant.

“I’ll say you did,” Blade replied. “Forget it—”

“No, I meant about the type of job,” Grey said. “It would not be asking you to betray a client or change the job you’re working on. It would be a separate job, with full pay, to be redeemed when you aren’t working. The only request, the only condition of the favor is that if you’re offered multiple jobs at the same time, The Violet Heart’s is the one that you take.”

“Nothing dirty? Dishonorable?”

“No. If it is, you can consider the debt paid in full,” Grey said. “What do you think?”

“Why?” Blade asked. Grey was right, that actually was a good deal, in a sort of I-scratch-your-back-you-scratch-mine way. But it was weird. Odd. Her ruff lowered as her sense of alarm faded. “Why me?”

“I don’t know, to be honest, Miss Sunchaser,” Grey said, shrugging. “I’m merely a relay. I’ve never once met with The Violet Heart, only their agents, who I would not at all be surprised to find they answered to other agents. But for whatever reason, whoever they are, they’ve taken an interest in your services, and wish to guarantee a future hiring.”

“And I would know about this how?” she asked. “How will I know when it happens? Or will it just hang over my head for forever?”

“The Violet Heart will contact you and let you know,” Grey said. “That’s all I know.”

“And if someone claims to be The Violet Heart?”

“We deal with those spreading false information … quickly,” Grey said, her voice slowing somewhat. “Liars tend not to function well in the information business.”

“Huh,” Blade said, tapping her chin with one claw. “I’ll admit, part of me is curious. All I have to do is consider the job?”

“Yes. Just consider it.”

“And if I take another job and refuse?”

“Then your debt will be regarded as unfulfilled, and we will forever cut ties with you.”

Interesting. One job? “A good job. No dirty stuff? I don’t do criminal. Well, not without good reason,” she admitted. “And only along certain lines. None of this dirty, dishonorable stuff.”

“I understand that it would be in line with your current brand of work,” Grey said, spreading her talons. “Past that I have no information.”

“And you won’t take the reeds instead?” Blade asked. Grey shook her head.

“Not for this. The information I was given was quite clear. A future job. Nothing out of the ordinary. You won’t have to break contract, or your honor. Just take the job, even above more attractive offers.”

“I …” It was a pretty loose deal, but for The Violet Heart, not her. Unless The Violet Heart used it to block her taking another job, but even then, she’d still have a job. And The Violet Heart had been very clear about being in the game only for information, at least as far as she’d heard. No criminal aspirations. Nothing dirty. The Violet Heart was honest and trustworthy, that was part of the point. That was why you went to them rather than someone else.

“Fine,” she said, shaking her head as she sat back. “I’m on a job at the moment, but you can tell The Violet Heart they’ve got a deal.

“Very well,” Grey said, rising from her bench. “I will fetch the information you need.”

“Send a message with it, though,” Blade said, and the griffon stopped. “Make sure The Violet Heart hears it.”

“I’m listening.”

“If I find they’ve used this to hurt someone, or dishonor my reputation … Pull anything shady, anything at all, you understand?” She rose from her seat, her wings flaring out as she glared down at the small griffon. “Remind them that I’m hunting down a bonafide demigod right now. If The Violet Heart crosses me, I’ll come for them. I don’t care how hidden they think they are,” she said, her voice almost a hiss as she pointed one long, sharp claw at Grey. “I will track them down and end them. Clear?”

Grey swallowed, the first sign of nervousness Blade had seen her exhibit since she’d entered the room. “Crystal,” she said. “You’ll have your information. Wait here.” She pressed at the hidden door and it swung open. She vanished into the space behind, the false baffle shutting behind her with a faint click.

I hope I just didn’t start stalking a big quarry I can’t catch, Blade said, staring at the panel, her quickened breathing sounding slightly loud now that she was alone in the room. But if I did, I sent a serious warning with it. And I’ll probably get one impressive fight out of it.

The false door opened a moment later and Grey walked out, a small, folded slip of paper between her claws. “This is it,” she said. “Information on what Anubis is after. Our business is concluded; please wait until you are some distance from the building before examining it.” She passed the piece of paper to Blade and then vanished back into the false entryway without another word, the panel shutting behind her with a faint click.

Finally. She stared down at the slip of paper and then nodded and stuck it in her bags. No one said anything to her as she left the room and walked down the stairs. The secretary gave her a faint “Come again!” as she passed by the desk, but she hardly acknowledged it. What mattered was the slip of paper.

She waited until she was several blocks away to stop at a small food cart and get something to eat. Then, a steaming stir-fry of meat and vegetables on a thin slip of cardboard in front of her, she pulled the slip of paper out and unfolded it.

First she frowned. Then she flipped the paper over, checking it for any other writing. She held it up to the sun, and then over the steam rising off of her lunch, checking for any additional information. Nothing. The slip of paper bore only a single word.

Necropolis.

Count of Laws Broken: 0
Total Laws Broken: 90
Damage Value (In Bits): 0
Total Damage Value (In Bits): 390,941

Interlude - A Single Moment

View Online

Necropolis Dig Site

A faint crack split the air inside the tent, the sharp sound muffled by the cloth walls but still loud enough that it almost hurt. Dusty winced as the noise rushed through his skull, shaking his concentration and pulling it away from the papers spread in front of him. He spared the flapping, pulsing walls of the tent a single glare before looking back down at the assorted work spread in front of him, his eyes seeing the various diagrams and notes but not really comprehending.

“That was a close one,” Stal said from the other side of the tent. His wife was curled up on their cot, books and papers spread before her as she dove into every possible detail that could help them with their search.

“They’re all close ones anymore,” he said, shaking his head as he stared down at the copious amount of notes the expedition had produced over the last week and a half. “Sometimes I think every light storm in the desert goes right over the dig.”

“Close enough,” Stal said as he ran his eyes over another line on the dig. Slate had said she’d felt something down below, though once again they’d been forced to retreat to the safety of their camp. “We are getting hit by quite a lot of them. It could be why they abandoned the city.”

“But then why build it in the first place?” he asked, shutting his eyes for a moment as another low hum filled the tent, the light inside dimming as even it felt the pull of the supernatural forces outside. A moment later a sharp crack burst through the air, the walls of the tent bulging as the shockwave swept across them. “Seriously, Stal,” he said, sitting up and waving his hoof at the walls of the tent, once again flapped under the onslaught of the storm. “No one could build a city out here with this many storms rolling over it. We can barely dig.” It was infuriating, to be so close to their goal, so close to the conclusion of years of work, only to be held back by weather. Weather that nopony could control, much less predict. “If this keeps up, we might have to get more funding, just to cover the entire dig site so we can go to work.”

“Look on the bright side,” Stal said, smiling. “Sure, we’d need more funding to do that, but at least we won’t have any trouble getting that funding.” She let out a laugh and jumped from the bed. “Come on, Dusty, you should be celebrating! We did it! We found it! The lost city of the dead! It’s real, and we’re the ones who found it!” She began to strut across the room towards him, her wings held out and her head back in a regal pose, as if she was a model on a fashion runway. Minus the armor and formal blades.

“I know,” he said, shaking his head as he looked back down at scattered work filling his table. “But that’s not what I wanted, Stal. We both knew the city was out there. We’d done the study, done the research … Even when we were running into dead end after dead end, we knew that there was something at the root of it. Finding it was the big part, but that was an answer to a question we already knew. Now I want to know why and what. Why a city in the middle of the desert, at the end of a valley hit by what feels like every storm in the Turuncu? Why’d they build it? Why’d they leave? Was there an oasis that dried up, like some of the later stories say? Did the ecology shift? Are we going to find records of it if we ever get inside? Why are there no windows?” He threw his hooves up in the air and slumped back in his seat, his back rubbing against the canvas. “That’s what I’m really here for, and now that we’re so close …”

“The light storms,” Stal said, placing one set of claws on his shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze. “I know, Dusty. And that last one gets me too.”

He frowned, his face twisting as he thought back on his small rant. “The records?”

“No,” she said, keeping her talons on his shoulder as she walked around the chair, coming to a stop right next to him. “The window thing. That one’s been making me wonder too.”

He nodded, his eyes drifting across the multiple sketches he’d been examining. Despite losing over half of each of their workdays to preparing for the light storms, and another quarter of that to the actual storms themselves, the remaining dig crew was hard at work cataloguing what they’d been able to find of the city. Which at the moment was just the singular structure—a structure so large they still hadn’t found the edges. Slate, ever faithful and still sticking with the dig, despite being one of the only two diamond dogs left, had dug down the side on her own several times—her additions were the blue ones on the paper—and still hadn’t found the base. Which meant that the historical topology of the area had to be incorrect, since they’d passed the depth of what was historically assumed to be the “floor” of the valley almost thirty feet above the depths that Slate had dug to.

It also meant that the building they’d found was at least sixty feet tall. Possibly more.

“Still trying to figure out where the end is?” Stal said, her red eyes peering down at the spread of paper. He nodded.

“Slate got another good dig in today before the storm came up,” he said, tapping the two most recently extended lines.

“I saw those,” she said, her shoulder giving his a playful bump.

“Do you believe them?” he asked, staring down at the paper. “I mean, I know Slate isn’t lying, obviously, but how big is this place? I mean, if this is one structure, the whole city must be …” He searched for a good comparison. “I don’t know ... As big as Canterlot at least!”

He slapped a hoof down on the table, his frustration boiling over. “I mean look at this, Stal. Slate followed this wall for four-hundred feet before coming back. And it just kept going. She didn’t even reach the end!” Stal nodded but didn’t say anything. He knew he wasn’t saying anything she didn’t already know, just like he knew she was letting him burn off his frustrations by voicing them.

Even with this city, she’s still the best thing that’s ever happened to you. And just because she was letting him vent didn’t mean she enjoyed it, though knowing Stal, she was fine with a little bit of frustrated temper. He’d always suspected she found his frustrated musings slightly entertaining rather than off-putting.

“I don’t know,” he said, dropping his head to the side and letting it rest in the curve of her neck, right up against the feathers of her ruff. “I’m fascinated on the one hoof, but completely frustrated on the other.”

“I understand,” Stal said, her head tilting to the side and rubbing up against hers. “I’m actually with you on this one, though, baby. It’s been bothering me too.” She reached out with one claw and tapped at the paper, just gently enough that the tip of her talon didn’t break through. “Has anyone managed to excavate another one of these?”

“No,” he said, letting out a sigh. “We thought we were going to get close with one of them today, but then the storm rolled in.” Another crack echoed through the tent, the cloth snapping as the winds shifted. “I had Slate do a quick dive down towards it, though. Just to get a good look. She says it’s just like the other one.”

“Sealed tight?”

“Yup.”

“No windows?”

“Nope.”

“That?” Stal said, lifting her head high enough to just to look him in the eyes. “That is weird. Who builds structures like that on top of a larger structure and then has no windows or access points?”

“Especially when they’re griffons,” he said, giving her a slight grin before turning his attention back down to the paper. “But you’re right. It’s strange. If we could just get inside this thing …”

“Sorry, baby,” she said, shaking her head. “No luck yet. I don’t think we’re going to get anywhere without bringing in a specialist team.”

He let out a groan. “Really?”

“Really,” she said, shaking her head. “Whatever magic is keeping that door sealed tight, it’s good. Or more powerful and intricate than anyone on our dig is capable of working with.” She shrugged, her shoulders bouncing beneath his head as her body shook.

“That’ll mean we’ll have to tell them,” he said. “Once they find out, they might make a power play; try to get someone else in charge of the expedition.”

“Let them,” Stal said, her voice lowering to a growl as she spoke. “This is our dig, Dusty. They can try, but they’re not getting it. I don’t care how much they whine.”

“They could pull our funding.”

She let out a short, squawking laugh. “Sure. That’ll work. Half of the dig would stay here even if we couldn’t pay them, and we can practically write our ticket with any sponsor we want now.” She twisted, looking down at him. “And don’t the Princesses fund stuff like this?”

“If it’s good, yeah,” he said. Stal laughed again.

“If it’s good, Dusty?” she asked. “Really? Is this somehow not good enough for you?” she asked with a quick laugh.

He smiled as he lifted his head up. “Well, the weather could be better,” he said, laughing again as she rolled her eyes. He dropped his head back onto her shoulder, and saw her look at him once more.

“You know, if you’re going to keep doing that, that means I have to keep standing here.”

He contorted his lips and closed his eyes as if deep in thought, and then gave her a slight nod. “I find this acceptable,” he said, and she rolled her eyes again.

“Anyway,” she said, turning her attention back to the crudely assembled sketch of the dig layout. “Unless we find another opening, we’re probably not going to get inside without someone with some decent magic training to come and take a look at whatever spell is holding it shut.”

“No luck on any of those impressions near the front door?” he asked.

“Nope,” she said with a small shake of her head. “Blocked off completely. And I really don’t want to start our investigation by breaking through the wall to see what’s in there.” She paused. “One of the students did come to me with an interesting observation today, though.”

“Oh?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she said, shaking her head. “We’re getting hit with light storms just about every day, right?”

“Right,” he said, a distant crack punctuating his words. The sound rolled across the desert, echoing off of the valley walls.

“And we’ve been digging here for almost two weeks.”

“Right again,” he said, feeling a pang of disappointment at how little they’d uncovered in that time. They’d found the entrance—or at least what they assumed was the entrance—by following the trail of broken bricks. And they’d mapped out the front part of the structure, though digging down had shown that where they’d settled their camp was actually above some parts of the giant structure they’d found. But a lot of their work had been burying and unburying the city itself. Or at least, the long building they’d found so far. Who knew what lay past it?

“So then, here’s the question,” Stal said, shifting her stance and forcing him to lift his head as she locked eyes with him. “Where’s all the light storm glass?”

“I … I don’t know,” he admitted. The question hadn’t even occurred to him. “We haven’t found any?”

“None,” Stal said, an odd expression on her face. “It was one of the unicorns who mentioned it. Dauntless, I think. He said that it was weird, but he hadn’t found any light storm glass since we started the dig.”

“That … That doesn’t make any sense,” Dusty said, shaking his head. Another crack rippled through the air as the storm outside released its fury. “We’ve had maybe fifteen storms since we got here. There should be light glass all over the valley.” Even as the words tumbled free of his lips, however, his mind was galloping back. When had he seen light glass last? It had been … somewhere along the brick road they’d followed.

Stal was right. He hadn’t seen a single piece since they’d started digging up the Necropolis.

“It gets weirder,” Stal said. “I started asking around? No one else has found any either. Even Slate.” She emphasized the diamond dogs name, as if to draw attention to the fact that not even the most experienced digger on the team, the one who could, for all intents and purposes, tunnel through the sand, hadn’t found anything.

“I even took a quick break and took a look of my own when I was checking on the storm earlier,” she said. “Usually you can see some of the stuff glinting in the sun if you get up high enough. This dig?” She shook her head. “Nothing. Hiç.”

He felt a small pool of unease settle in his stomach. That was odd … Like one of the things that ended up as a small footnote in a history textbook talking about some of the more esoteric oddities that archaeologists had found.

“So the entire site is glass free?” he asked. “How?”

Stal rolled her eyes. “If I knew, baby, I’d be writing a research paper on it right now, and we’d be swimming in grant money. Swimming.”

“We’re already about to be swimming in grant money,” he said. “What would we need more for?”

Stal shrugged. “Bank it for a rainy day? Anyway, it’s just one more thing we can use to get more grant money.”

“Again,” he said, smirking. “Probably not going to be a problem for the future. Whatever this turns out to be, we’re definitely going to be well-off for the next couple of decades.”

“Mmm,” Stal said, giving him a small smirk. “I like the sound of that. Well off enough to maybe start thinking about a few little hippogriffs running around?”

Another crack echoed across the valley and he paused for a moment to glance upwards. The strike had been close. Really close. “Maybe as long as we can put a bunch of tin roofing over the crib.” Stal was giving him the look now, the slightly lifted eyebrow and twitching tale that told him she was amused but slightly off-put. “What? If anything, it’ll be good for them. It can keep the children alive until we find a death trap we need to disable.”

She was shaking her head now, her red eyes rolling hard towards the back of her head. “Sometimes, grounder, I don’t know why I married you.”

“Oh, really?” he said, cocking his head to one side. “You just don’t like that plan because it means less wings for your litter.”

“Queens deserve litters,” Stal said, sticking her chest out and spreading her wings. “And after all, I am a queen, aren’t I, grounder? Flying high above the dusty earth?”

“Okay, now you’re just taunting me,” he said, trying not to laugh. Leave it to Stal to make sitting in the middle of a storm, stalled out of a dig, bearable. “Still, I must admit the idea does have appeal …” She winked, and his laugh broke free.

“So,” Stal said, smirking at his laughter and then grinning again. “I mean, walking around all day does get tiring.”

“I still like my deathtrap idea,” he said. “Even if it would mean a lot of feeding in the meantime.”

“And diapers,” Stal said, sticking her tongue out in disgust. “Yuck.”

“And four AM feedings,” Dusty said.

“Vomit.”

“Crying.”

“Mommy.”

“Daddy.”

“It’s going to be great,” they said at the same time, each looking at the other. Then, as one, both grinning, they added on the last bit together. “Soon.”

It was an old ritual, a reminder of some of their other plans past uncovering an ancient treasure that hadn’t seen the light of the sun in almost two-thousand years.

“So,” Stal said, tilting her head to one side and looking down at the diagrams. “Any other updates we’ve got to cover?”

He shook his head. “Nothing. Slate assured me again that she and her cousin are sticking around until the end of their contract, though once that expires they’ll have to leave.”

“Weird,” Stal said, shaking her head. He nodded in agreement.

“Other than that, a lot of the students are still debating over what we’ve found,” he said. “Half of them are convinced that we just missed the rest of the city and started digging up the central building. A few are still working on proving that the whole city is just one big building—”

“With no windows and doors?” Stal asked.

“Hey, we were both students once,” he said. “In fact, I seem to recall someone calling my theory on Dahl’s business trade with Barika an ‘utter steaming load of halfwit theories and bull leavings.’”

“In my defense,” Stal said, rolling her eyes. “They were. You completely ignored the social climate at the time. Dahl never would have risked doing business with Barika. It would have been social suicide even if his honor didn’t die over it. And he was a vocal supporter of King Tallcliff the Second.”

“The point is, past mistakes aside,” Dusty said, his cheeks burning. “There are a lot of theories going around.”

“Anything new, though?” Stal asked, and he shook his head.

“Not really. Most of them are just getting more and more confused the more we find.”

“Well good,” Stal said. “Then we’re all on the same page. Means we’ll all be thinking about it when we find something that helps us get to the bottom of this whole thing.”

“And we should have a response from the museum soon, too,” Dusty added. “The letter should have reached them by now.”

“Yeah,” Stal said. “I wish I could see that meeting! Can you imagine them passing that picture around?”

He grinned. Easily. Stal had spent several hours laboring over her sketch of the front door, capturing every bit of detail—from the smooth, almost unnatural texture of the tan stone to the solid mass of the door itself, set into the side of the Necropolis. Flush with the outer wall, the door itself was slanted inward, its peak towards the center of the structure … wherever that was. If Slate’s estimates were correct, it was buried under hundreds of feet of sand somewhere past the end of the valley.

Either way, Stal had captured every detail of the entrance to send back to the National Museum. From the size of the door itself—easily four times the height of a pony—to the strange, triangular depression halfway up its face. No one had been able to figure out yet what the downward-pointing impression was for, though two of the unicorn students had said they’d felt a faint trickle of magic somewhere inside of it. An announcement which many in the camp—particularly a few of the griffons—were still loath to believe. After all, griffons couldn’t work magic. Not inside stone, anyway. Which meant—at least to some of the more excitable students—unicorn involvement. That was the easiest answer, certainly, though he was sure the student tents were alive with controversy during each storm.

Either way, he could imagine the responses the board would have. Outrage. Indignation. Disbelief. Panic.

But underneath it all, curiosity. And disagreement. And those two, more than anything else, would mean a steady supply of grant money.

“Thinking about it, huh?”

“Yeah.” He shook his head, the image vanishing. “It’s a pleasant thought.”

“Really?” Stal asked. “That’s pleasant?” She looked down at the table and then back up at him. “That’s it?”

“Well ...” he said, “I can think of other pleasant things.”

“Like what?” Stal asked, her tail flipping into view behind her as she gave it a single, sharp lash.

“If you’re done with whatever you’re looking at, and I’m done with what I’m looking at …”

“Aw, baby,” Stal said, giving him a sly smile as her wings stretched out wide. He could see her dropping into a crouch, readying herself for a pounce . “I thought you’d never ask.”

Chapter 29 - Collision

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Sheerwater

Necropolis, Blade thought as she glided back across the city towards the safe house. What does that even mean? She gave her wings another slow flap, lifting her body higher into the air before settling into another long, low glide. Sheerwater at dusk, even in the early winter, let off more than enough heat at the end of the day for most griffons to glide as long as they were heading in a downhill direction. Her own course was mostly level with a little bit of climb, but there were still enough flat points to it that she could relax and let the warm air currents do most of the work.

Which gave her time to think, and at the moment she wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. Necropolis. The word kept rolling through her thoughts, echoing back and forth from the edges of her mind like a repeated shout.

She still didn’t know what it meant. At first she’d been tempted to turn back, to march back inside the music academy, back into the room where she’d met with Grey, and break open the false panel. To demand an explanation, an addendum.

It would have been completely pointless, though. If she’d followed through on it, all she would have achieved would be angering an information brokering collective, a group she now owed a favor to, and a group which she could need again in the future. Angering them wouldn’t help anything.

Besides, Grey had told her that the slip of paper was “information” on what Anubis had been after, and despite the small griffon’s lack of “all the” before that phrase, she didn’t get the feeling that there had been anything withheld. Especially where Anubis was concerned, and the reputation of The Violet Heart, what she’d been given was likely all the group had on the matter.

Which meant there was little she could do but puzzle out the meaning on her own, or with the help of the group. Was Necropolis a name? A person? A place?

She pushed her wings down once more, gaining a little altitude as she swept over the surface of the city. The setting sun was at her back now, its orangish glow casting long shadows across the face of Sheerwater and covering the city in intermittent bands of inky blackness. She could see street lights coming to life in some of those darker areas, the whitish magilights a sharp contrast to the soft orange glow covering the parts of the city still illuminated by the sun.

Necropolis. The word echoed again out of her mind. A griffon? A dead clan? A code word? A work of art? What? They were close, she knew that. The Violet Heart had confirmed that Anubis was definitely looking for whatever Necropolis was, and since the immortal was still in the city, either it was as well, or what he needed to find it was. All we need to do is figure out what it is or where it is before he does, she thought as she put herself into a long, banking turn that arced towards the safe house. And since Anubis is breaking into ancient tombs, our best bet is probably something really old. Maybe we should try a museum.

Then again, that was what Frost and Alchemy had been out doing. Or close enough, anyway. Maybe they’d have found something that could help.

She tucked her wings close as she came in to land, her talons scraping the warm street-stones as she bleed off excess speed. A few griffons further up the street threw lazy looks her way, but then went back to relaxing on their balcony, their chatter filling the air with an ordinary undertone.

That’s right, she thought as she walked up to the front door, pulling the house key from her bags. Don’t pay me any attention. Just an ordinary griffon coming back from a long day at work.

That last part certainly felt true. There was a faint almost buzzing sensation in the back of her mind, a slight lethargy that let her know her two naps hadn’t been quite what her body had wanted to put up with in return for going an entire night without sleep. She knew she could go a lot further before she needed to rest, or even before she started to feel any of the negative effects, but she could still feel the faint itch at the edge of her mind, a faint pressure that warned it would only grow if left unattended.

Still, she couldn’t afford to do that. Not at the moment. There were more important things to consider.

The door unlocked with a faint click and she pushed it open, stepping into the safe house and then letting the door swing shut behind her. Almost as she’d expected, Hain was sitting at the table, his eyes already switching away from her and back to the sheaf of papers he was holding in his claws. “Good to see you’re back,” he said. “Did you get what you were looking for?”

“Sort of,” she said, shrugging her bags off of her back and hanging them by the door before plucking the lone slip of paper out. She held it up into the air as Frost wandered out of the kitchen. “They didn’t have much.”

“What’d they have?” Frost asked. “And who’d you go see?”

“Information brokers,” Blade said, tucking the slip of paper under her wing and crossing over to the table, sitting herself down opposite Hain on one of the benches. “Made the day a bit more exciting for them.”

“Exciting enough to cause trouble?” Hain asked, looking up once more from whatever it was he was reading.

“No,” she said. “Just exciting enough that if I press for information without waiting again like I did today, I might find myself blacklisted from their service.”

“They’re a slow and steady group then.”

“We’d have been waiting another two days to get what today got me if I’d gone by their timetable,” she said, nodding. “Not that I’m a hundred percent certain what I got out of it is going to be worth it. In fact,” she said, turning her eyes to Frost. “I hope you two had better luck than I did, or we’re going to be spending more time hunting down information than we can probably spare.”

“Actually, we did. Have good luck, I mean,” Frost said, setting both forehooves on the table. “Alchemy and I spoke with Professor Stoneweather.”

“And?”

“We were correct,” she said. “According to the professor, there are scattered records and artifacts that show that Anubis did indeed have followers among the pre-Empire griffons.”

“So Anubis wasn’t lying about that vault being built by griffons,” Blade said, her shoulders sinking slightly.

“No,” Frost agreed. “Probably not. The professor did say that there was no proof that there were entire clans devoted to him, though.”

“Additionally,” Alchemy said, his head darting around the edge of the doorway that led to the kitchen. “The way he phrased his response makes me think that many of them were in hiding even before the Empire arose, and that after the Founding, they probably died out.”

“That makes sense,” Blade said, nodding. “The Empire was big on unification. A couple of clans were wiped out over that.”

“Which, if there was an Anubite clan,” Frost said, “would have put an end to them fairly swiftly.”

“But he did have followers here,” Blade said. “And that could explain why he’s digging through the old crypts. Old followers, names he knows. Searching for—”

“There’s more though,” Frost said, cutting Blade off before she could mention what The Violet Heart had told her. “Though the professor didn’t want to talk about it.”

“What?” Blade frowned. “Why not?”

“He accused us of trying to steal his work,” Alchemy said, trotting out of the kitchen and sitting down on the bench next to Frost. There was a sheen of water on the side of his face, as if he’d been exercising and only part of his body had sweated. “Right around the time we started getting a little further into the details tying the Lost City of Turuncu with the cult.”

Right. That had been what had caught Frost’s attention in the first place. Wondering why the line about the lost city had been mentioned in Anubis’s history. “What’d you get? Or why did he get angry?”

“Like Alchemy said, he thought we were there to steal his work,” Frost said. “Accused us of working for the ‘Clouddiver Clan’ and told us we’d have to do our own research rather than trying to steal his. The discussion went downhill from there. But before he threw us out, he did explain the connection. It was something one of his students had been researching. The the lost city story was based on an older story that the Anubites used to share with one another.”

“It’s written right here,” Hain said, sliding the sheaf of papers he was looking at across the table. “They stole the paper.”

“It’s only a copy, translated into Equestrian,” Frost said. “They still have the original. In any case, this was all we could get out of him after he decided we were there to steal his work. The important bit is on page three,” she said as Blade opened the document. “It’s an old chant or saying or poem or something that his student found record of. The whole paper argues that the legend of the lost city grew out of the retelling of this poem that the Anubites used to tell one another.”

“Uh-huh,” Blade said, flipping to the second page and doing a quick skim of the text to see what it contained. It was mostly a repeat of what Frost was saying, though in more detail and about four times as many words. A discussion of the many ancient myths of the lost city, the approximate age of the story and the ties to the founding of the Empire. And then a postulation that the legend may have existed much earlier, which would explain the multitude of variations after said Founding. Mentions of adaptation, of overwriting an earlier lost city myth that was held by a small, secret group.

“Pretty interesting stuff,” Frost said as Blade flipped the page. “There’s some honorifics around it like ‘Throne of Bones’ that mean it could be connected. Or at least say to me that these guys followed Anubis. But it’s all about some ancient city they called Necropolis.”

Blade froze, her eyes open wide as every part of her body went absolutely still. The word had been pronounced slightly differently, annunciation on different sounds more in style with the Equestrian Frost was speaking, but it had been enough. Maybe. “What was that word?” she asked, looking up at the dark-blue mare.

“The name of the city?” Frost asked, her brow furrowing slightly as she saw Blade’s expression. “Necropolis. Why?”

“Blade,” Hain said, his gravelly voice filling the room. “You’ve heard that name before somewhere, haven’t you?” It was more of a statement than a question, but it hung in the room all the same, waiting for an answer.

She had one. “The Violet Heart,” she said, unfolding her wing and holding up the single slip of paper. She could feel her heart pounding as she set it on the tabletop, face up so all of them could read the single word written across it. “They gave me a choice between knowing where Anubis was and finding out what he was after. I told them I wanted to know what he was after. It was a chance to maybe set a trap, or figure out his motives. This is what I got in response.” She could feel the pieces falling into place now. “That’s what he’s after.”

“We can’t read it,” Alchemy said, his voice scattering her thoughts. “That’s in Griffon.”

“Right,” she said, shaking her head and then letting her eyes shift between the orange stallion and the attentive looking unicorn he was sitting next to. “It’s one word. Necropolis.”

Alchemy’s eyes widened, along with Frost’s, and Blade nodded. “That’s what he’s looking for,” she said. “You said the poem talks about the city?”

“Right there,” Hain said, pointing a single claw at the paper in front of her. She glanced down, reading through the text as quickly as she could.

Everything fell into place.

“This is it …” she said, tapping the paper with her talons. “‘The foundation of the entrusted goal. Built by blood. Swept beneath the sand!” She stood, her voice rising as everything she’d been wondering about for the last few weeks fell into place. “He was hiding!”

“What?” Alchemy asked. “How? Why?”

“To keep everyone from figuring out what he was up to!” Blade said. She could feel her tail whipping back and forth behind her in excitement. “Remember what he said in the vault after he was let out? That he sealed himself away? That he had a plan? Anubis knew Celestia and Luna were coming for him after the Jackal Kingdom fell apart. He had to have known what they’d done to some of the other immortals. But he was smart. Just like the history said, he always had a plan.”

“He sealed himself away or let himself get beaten,” Hain said, nodding. “Trapped.”

Alchemy’s mouth opened in a wide “O,” a look of stunned surprise moving across his face. “And while everyone assumes he’s gone, his followers went to work. Nobody would pay too much attention to a bunch of followers of someone who’d already been defeated, especially if they keep quiet.”

“Which they did,” Blade said. “And they built him a city. Necropolis. And almost two-thousand years later, when Anubis finally gets out, he’s already got everything in place. All he needs to do is find it. Which is why he was breaking into the tombs. And the genealogical society. He needed the names, needed to find out what had happened to his followers. And where they might be buried. And with that …”

“Where they might have hidden clues to the location of his city,” Hain said, nodding. “Plus the nice little bonus of finding some skeletons to animate if he feels like it.” The old griffon let out a long whistle. “Now that’s long-term planning.”

“He’s an immortal,” Blade said, her eyes drifting down to the single sheet of paper in the middle of the table. “He’s got all the time in the world to plan for long-term. He doesn’t have to beat you. Not when he can just wait for you to die of old age, for your children to grow old, and for the memory of who he was to fade into legend. And that’s exactly what he’s done.”

“But why a city?”

Alchemy’s question pulled her eyes away from the slip of paper, and she found him looking up at her. “What?”

“Why a city?” he repeated. “A city is a collection of sapients living together in a community, usually in an important or vital location. He’s looking for something that his followers—according to the poem—buried. What good is it going to do him?”

“That’s … actually a really good point,” Blade said, glancing back down at the paper. “A city without any population isn’t good for much is it?”

“What about the oasis?” Hain suggested. “Or the trade routes from the later legends?”

“No,” Blade said, shaking her head. “Those have already been debunked. And what good would they be? What’s the point of going through all this trouble to take a city out in the middle of nowhere?”

“Wait … Because he’d have an army,” Alchemy said, his voice quiet but grabbing both her and Hain’s attention like a tightly bound cord. “Look at the poem. ‘Born with bone.’ ‘Its walls a tomb.’ It’s not just a city, it’s a repository. How much would you care to bet that every single cultist who died building that place is still inside it, a pile of bones waiting for their long-lost leader to show up?”

“And raise an almost unstoppable army,” Blade said, thinking back on the skeletons they’d faced in the vault. “And he’d have a base of operations somewhere between both the Plainslands and the Empire. Even if he didn’t want to go to war, he could chop off every trade route and then just hide in the desert when patrols came looking for him. He could hamstring both empires.” She could feel a faint chill inside her chest, a cold feeling that mixed with a shiver running down her back. An army of skeletons, striking out from the desert. A bid to regain power more than fifteen-hundred years in the making.

“You said that Professor Stoneweather was researching this?” she said, looking back down at where Frost and Alchemy were sitting. Frost was still sitting, silent as she stared down at the slip of paper with a distant look in her eyes. Why hadn’t she said anything yet?

“Yeah,” Alchemy said, nodding. “Or something about it anyway.”

“Then we’ll need to talk to him first thing tomorrow morning,” Blade said, taking a step back from the table so that she could see the entire team. “We need to know what he knows and—”

“He knows where it is,” Frost said.

“He what?” Blade asked.

“He knows where it is,” Frost said, looking up at her. “The professor. He knows where Necropolis is. That’s why he started to get so nervous when Alchemy and I were asking him about the cults. He thought we were there to find out where it was.”

“How do you—”

“This says ‘Necropolis’ in Griffon, right?” Frost asked, tapping the slip of paper. “Just Necropolis?”

“Yeah.”

“What would it look like if you abbreviated it?” Frost asked. “Shortened it. Would the syntax stay the same?”

“The what?”

“The letters,” Frost said. “Would the majority of them stay the same, like with Equestrian?”

“Well, yeah.” Blade reached out with one set of talons and tore of the very end of the slip of paper before snapping that piece into three smaller bits. “It’d look like this,” she said, placing the three over a few of the letters. “Though you could—”

“Then Stoneweather knows where the city is,” Frost said, rising to her hooves. “He had a map in his office, a map of the southern half of the Empire and what I assume is the Turuncu Desert. And on that map he had a symbol, a marker, near the middle of that desert, with those characters written next to it.”

“You’re certain?” Blade asked.

“Positive,” Frost said. “There were lines leading to it and everything. That’s why he got so angry when we started asking along the same train of thought. Professors are always looking out for something that could get them attention, right? Papers? Research? He’s found the lost city of Turuncu somehow, and he knows it’s Necropolis.”

“Tartarus.” There wasn’t much more she could say. “Then we need to move now. All of you, get ready to move. We’re going to have a chat with Professor Stoneweather.”

“Now?” Alchemy asked in surprise.

“Now,” Blade said, nodding. “If we can connect the dots, so can Anubis, and I’d rather not give him the chance. All of us.”

“But I can’t leave,” Alchemy said, raising his front hooves. “I’m brewing potions in the kitchen. I can’t stop now.”

“What?” She pulled back in surprise. So that was what he’d been doing in the kitchen. “Why?”

“We needed a potion to counter Anubis’s fear effect,” he said with a quick shrug. “I found a mix that should work, so I started mixing it. I figured I wasn’t going to need to go anywhere for the next few hours, so—”

“How long do you need?”

“An hour, maybe?”

She shook her head. “Too long. We need to move now. You’ll stay here. Hain, Frost and I will handle this. Finish up the potion and wait for us. We might be bringing a body back with us.”

Alchemy blanched. “You mean—”

“We might need to hide him for a few days is what she means,” Hain said. “Depends on how many people know. If the net is big enough, the most we can do is try and get them to keep quiet.”

“Either way,” Blade said. “You need to finish those potions, since we’re going to need them. Frost and Hain, grab your things. We need to move. Now.”

Frost rushed past her, hooves ringing against the stone stairs as she made her way to the upper floor. Hain stepped up alongside Blade a moment later, his posture as formal as she could have imagined it being decades earlier. Frost returned a second later, her wrap already across her shoulders and Hain’s combat harness gripped in her magic.

“Good to go,” Hain said as he pulled the harness around his shoulders, giving Frost a nod of thanks. The knife settled in its usual place. “I doubt I’ll need it, but just in case …”

Blade nodded. Better to be prepared. “Alchemy,” she called. “We’ll be back as soon as we can. Hold down the fort until then.”

“Got it.”

“Both of you?” she said, glancing at Frost and Hain as she tugged the door open and stepped out onto the still warm street. “Let’s get to the university. We’ve got a professor to speak with.”

* * *

“What if he’s not here?” Frost asked as they neared the pillar that made up the Empire National Museum. The university was spread out around its base, dozens of structures surrounded by a high wall which was more to impress and mark the boundaries of the museum’s reach rather than keep anyone out.

“Then we find out where he lives and go there,” Blade said, her legs moving in a easy, loping gait that wasn’t quite an urgent run. The movement had been more than enough to shorten the trip across the city to a half-hour, though it had meant a few odd looks. At least, until the onlookers had seen the unicorn galloping along with her and Hain.

“I gotcha,” Frost said. “Plan B style?”

“Plan B style,” Blade said, smiling as they ran through the front gates. It was dark out, the horizon showing only a glimmer of fading orange light where the sun had once sat, while on the other side of the sky a faint, silver glow could be seen where the moon was rising. Around them the city nightlife was appearing—bright, white magilights bursting forth all across the cityscape as the city began to shift into the second half of its daily cycle.

“This way,” Frost said, taking the lead and guiding them along the outskirts of the campus, past stone building after stone building; some of them centuries old, reaching back almost a thousand years, others more modern, with sweeping, open faces and panel after panel of glass. “It’s not far.”

“Good,” Blade said as Frost turned and led them down a set of stairs. Blade spread her wings, gliding down the steps after the mare. They seemed to be heading for one of the more modern buildings, a large, rectangular structure that seemed to have been designed with fitting as many windows into its four faces as possible, though at the moment most of the windows were dark, light from outside reflecting off of the glass. Her feet touched warm stone as she reached the bottom of the stairs, and she kicked herself forward as Frost headed straight for the structure.

“This is it,” she said, slowing down to a quick walk as they neared the front doors. “Looks like the building is still open too.” She reached out and wrapped her wrist around the handle, tugging the door to one side.

“The sign says the building is locked after nine,” Hain commented, pointing with one claw towards the front desk. “But the secretary is gone after six.”

“That’s fine,” Blade said, looking at Frost. “Do you remember the way?”

“Of course,” the mare said, nodding at the nearest hallway. “This way.”

They moved down the hallway in broken silence, the only sound that of their muffled footsteps on the building’s thin carpet. Frost’s mouth was opening and closing silently as they passed by office after office, mouthing room numbers as they moved.

“Here,” she said, coming to a stop outside one of the doors. Stoneweather’s name was written on a plaque to one side, the small piece of metal doing its best to make the professor’s full title look dignified.

“Here,” Blade said, stepping up as Frost raised her hoof to knock. “Let me. He might remember your voice.”

She brought her knuckles down in a sedate, easygoing, pattern, a habit she’d picked up long ago. No matter how important the mission, if the target doesn’t know, you probably don’t need to give them any reason to be feeling out of the ordinary. She waited, counted to seven, and then knocked again.

“Profesör?” she called, switching to Griffon. “Sen misin?”

There was no answer. She knocked again, this time a little more loudly. “Profesör? Profesör?” She waited.

Nothing.

“Üçüncü kez şanslı,” she muttered, giving the door a short, quick rap, this time with enough force behind it that she could see the door shaking.

“Right … Guess the old, welcome approach isn’t working.” She reached down and jiggled the handle. It was unlocked.

“Profesör?” She pushed the door open. “Biz geliyoruz.”

She stepped into the room, her head twisting as she took a good look at everything. Shelves full of stuff, lots of wide open space around those tables … But the lights are on, she thought as Frost and Hain followed her in, the door shutting with a faint click behind them. He must be here. “Profesör?”

She took a step forward, still looking for any signs of activity. “Maybe he stepped out,” she said as she ran her eyes over the room once more. The professor’s chair was unoccupied, pushed slightly back from the large, wooden desk. She could see a spread of papers that looked like they were in the process of being graded.

“There’s the map,” Frost said, pointing towards what looked like a mobile chalkboard. One side was facing them, its surface a blank dark slate covered in wisps of white chalk dust. “Looks like he turned it around after he left.”

“Well,” Blade said, stepping forward and around the desk. “Since he doesn’t seem to be here, let’s—Tartarus!”

Behind the desk, lying on the ground with his head twisted back at an impossible angle, eyes open wide and his wings splayed beneath him, was what she assumed was Professor Stoneweather. Or at least, the body of Professor Stoneweather.

“No.” She took a long, quick step, reaching out and spinning the mobile chalkboard around. “No!”

The map was gone, a single, torn corner still pinned in the cork marking the place where it had once been attached. In its place, scrawled in large letters with what appeared to be permanent marker, was a message in Equestrian.

“Hey Featherbrains,” it read. “Thanks for digging up my city for me. See you again soon!”

For a moment all she could do was stare at the text, ice water flooding her veins, her heart racing. No! Then she shook her head.

“Frost? Hain?” she said, stepping back and glancing at both Frost and Hain. Her wings were spreading wide behind her as her body tensed. She could feel adrenaline flooding her system, bringing her senses to full alert. The body on the floor was dead, but not stiff. The killing had been recent. “Back to the safe house. Now.”

No one argued.

* * *

“Just a little more …” Alchemy said, his hoof easing the top of the open round bottle further to one side. It was a delicate work, pouring out a complete or partially complete potion when using a swivel mount. You had to push the flask over further and further, but if you weren’t ready for it, the shifting of the precious liquid within—particularly if it was heavy—would tip the flask farther than it was meant to go. Which usually left its erstwhile alchemist with a mess, and lot of lost ingredients—in the best cases. In the worst cases, well … explosions were a fact of life for a clumsy alchemist.

Or a dye job, Alchemy thought as the thick, viscous, yellow fluid began to slide down the neck of the flask. That had been his master’s teaching method of choice. She’d turned them all loose with a recipe that would require mixing in several steps and loosened swivel clamp, and then checked back in an hour to see how many of them had erupted in bright polka dots.

You don’t forget a lesson like that, he thought as a single, thick stream of the newly completed potion began to form a small spiral on the bottom of the flask he was pouring it into. His elbow itched, and he had to hold back to the urge to reach out and scratch at it. It was psychosomatic; that polka dot had disappeared long ago.

But the lesson hadn’t. He eyed the fluid level in the slowly filling flask, comparing its gradual rise with the myriad of small, tiny marks along the exterior of the glass. And … there.

He tilted the round bottle back down, holding it still for a moment as the balance of the potion inside it shifted. Satisfied that the center of gravity was below the swivel clamp that held the bottle in place once more, he leaned his head over to a nearby open drawer and plucked up the proper cork for the filled flask with his teeth. There was a faint, rubber-on-glass squeak as the cork slid into place, followed by a click as the locking clamp was pressed into place, and … Bingo, he thought as he examined his hoofwork. Another potion done.

There was only enough left in the original bottle to fill one more flask, but that had been by design. And more than a little skill on my part, he thought, smiling in satisfaction as he slid the completed flask of potion over to sit with its two fellows. It takes some serious talent to be able to make potions with this amount of precision. A new flask, freshly cleaned and sterilized, slid into place next to the round, and now nearly empty, bottle in the holder. Especially when you’re working with an entirely new potion you’ve never made before.

Well, mostly, he had to admit as he tilted the round bottle once more. The potion he was making now wasn’t exactly new, more of a modification to an existing type, though admittedly he had been forced to modify it quite a bit.

I just hope it works, he thought as he watched the last bit of potion slide out of the neck of the round bottle and into the flask, leaving behind a faint oily slick on the surface of the glass. It should work. I hope. But if it doesn’t … Well, he’d have done his best. He’d only had so many ingredients to work with, and so much time …

Good thing I started today, he thought as he locked the clamp on the final flask, pushing it over to sit in a nice, neat row with the others. Otherwise with everything going on, I don’t know where I would have found the time to mix this. He disconnected the now empty round bottle from its holder and carried it over to the sink, where he could clean it later. All it would take was a little water and a neutralizing agent to make certain that no reactive materials were left on the glass. That had been another lesson his master had taught him.

Actually, had taught a few of his fellow students. Mom and Dad raised me to clean up after my disasters, he thought with a grin as he flipped the spigot to hot. Warm water began spilling out of the faucet, filling the round bottle in moments with swirling, steaming water. Good thing they did too. He’d seen the results of the students who hadn’t cleaned. Potions had … interesting effects. Sometimes bland. Sometimes dangerous.

Right, he thought, pulling his mind away from memories as he reached over and picked up a small, paper-wrapped packet of neutralizing agent. He twisted it between his hooves, the small mixture of powdered crystal and Gorofa Root spilling out and into the round bottle. The fluid inside took on a milky consistency, like he’d just added a bit of flour to the mixture, but then, all at once the color shifted to green. Not a very vivid green, but a green nonetheless.

“Perfect,” he said to no one in particular as he reached out and shut off the water. The green fluid settled inside the bottle, almost pulsing as the neutralizing agent went to work. Once the color stabilized, he could pour the mixture down the drain. Green wasn’t dangerous, but giving the neutralizing agent time to work would reduce the chances of whatever was left of the potion reacting with anything else.

He turned back to the setup he’d put together and nodded in satisfaction. The round bottle had been the last thing to clean up, since the amount of time it had been cooking over a flame had been more than long enough for him to clean most of the rest of the mess he’d made putting the potion together. And on the side, he’d even made a few more weeks worth of his own potion, though he’d long since finished that project. The completed mixture was sitting in a larger flask than normal; he hadn’t wanted to take the time dividing it up into the more minute dosages he’d need.

He let out a faint sigh as he stared at the gently glowing blue mixture. Everything I do now relies on that mixture, he thought. Without it, I’d die. With it, I’ll die. Probably before half my life is over.

It didn’t truly bother him. He’d accepted it long ago, though he’d taken some time to come to that acceptance. Still it was a weight that he was going to carry, a debt for his own rash actions … even if they had saved the life of his master and fellow students. But he’d saved their lives, and that was what mattered. I’m a doctor. Sort of.

“On the other hoof,” he said aloud as he walked back over to his completed work, the row of identical flasks filled with faintly glowing yellow fluid all lined up neatly. “I’m blessed to have that half when I shouldn’t have any.” He sat down in front of the four potion flasks, each one filled with the exact same amount. Four flasks. Four team members.

“Sorry, Barnabas,” he said, a faint pang echoing inside his chest. “I wish I could have made a fifth.” The minotaur had been a pirate, but he’d also been a friend. A friend that he hadn’t been able to save.

Such is the price of being a doctor, he thought as he reached into his battered potion kit and extracted a large marker. He gripped it in his jaws, using his tongue and lips to make minute adjustments as he wrote across the front of each flask. You see patients live, and you see patients die. But you just keep going. Why? He leaned back, eyeing his writing on each of the four flasks. It was simple, straightforward. “Anti-fear.”

Faith and belief. Hopefully he’d gotten the mixture right. We keep going because we let our faith fight our fear that the next patient won’t make it. We can’t let fear paralyze us. We know we can do it. We might not save one, but we’ll save the next.

Faith and belief. The antithesis of fear. And if he’d gotten everything about the potion right … It’ll be what we need to beat Anubis’s little parlor trick.

It was the same thing that every alchemist, every doctor needed. A little bit of faith when things weren’t going right, when it seemed like the patient’s next breath would be their last. And sometimes, when it was, you had to learn to not let your faith be shaken. Sometimes, ponies died. Or minotaurs. And that’s the way it was.

But you couldn’t let one failing break everything about who you were. You had to be stronger than that. You had to have some faith, take the hits when they came, and then, as Master Eshe had said, ‘go back out into the heat and sweat again.’

You had to keep trying. A doctor who gave up wasn’t much of a doctor. Nor was an alchemist.

Well, he thought as he looked down at the four vials. I guess that about does it. He picked each of them up, carefully holding them in the nook of his right foreleg, and then walked through the front room and up the stairs. Time to add these to the potion stock.

He found the small pair of saddlebags he’d been putting together for the team right where he’d left it and added the four potions to the mix, smiling as the glass vials clinked against one another. He felt … relaxed. Calm, though he knew things were about to become busy. It was a prepared state of calm, almost like the feeling one had when watching a storm approach. The clouds were on the horizon, approaching, but the sky around him was still clear. Though it wouldn’t be that way for much longer.

No better time to make potions, he thought as he began making his way down the stairs. Making potions, even if it was an involved process, was relaxing in its own way. A bit like cooking.

Oh, hey, cooking. His mind seized on the new thought, his stomach letting out a growl. Maybe I should use the kitchen for something other than making potions. Like making a meal. Something quick. Portable, since the others could be back anytime now and we might need to move. Something that isn’t a potion and has some texture. Well, more than a liquid can give. Like a sandwich.

He was halfway across the front room when the front door exploded inward.

He twisted, his body moving out of the way even before the top half of the door, cracked and broken, shot by overhead, just barely missing the side of his head. He landed on three hooves, his right foreleg out in the air, its momentum pulling the rest of his body around as he flared what little power was in his chest.

He saw them coming in time to duck, a barrage of energy blasts that cut through the air around him and cracked against the stone with sharp, electric snaps. Some of them struck at low angles, bouncing off and into the air. He kept moving, conserving his momentum as he moved fast, far faster than he wanted to in order to avoid being hit.

A bolt cracked into his shoulder and he clenched his jaw as a stinging lack of sensation swept across his side, his leg going limp. The table! He gave his hind legs a final kick, throwing himself through the air in a desperate tumble, coming down hard on the other side of the stone, his unstunned shoulder slamming into the stone with enough force to fracture the bone.

It didn’t matter. He could deal with pain, both from the small break and the burning, raging heat it generated as it began to heal. He could also deal with a single stun spell, thanks to his condition. Pins and needles were already rushing along his side where the numbing magic had hit him, his potion-enhanced physique reawakening the discoordinated nerves.

Plus, he’d gotten a look at the now-open doorway as he’d rolled through the air. And he’d seen who’d blown it apart.

Unicorns. Unicorns with red bands around their horns, top and bottom. Somehow they’d found out about the team and where the safe house was.

A myriad of thoughts ran through his mind in a moment, comparing his position behind the heavy stone table relative to the rest of the room and the door through which more magical firepower was pouring through. He’d seen at least six cult mages providing the curtain of fire that had him pinned, and if the Order had any sense there would be a bunch more outside waiting to move in or start firing supportive spells.

Or, he thought as a whitish-purple glow wrapped itself around the table. Maybe they’re looking to remove my cover.

He lashed out with one hoof, punching the side of the table and ignoring the lance of pain that flowed up his foreleg as the heavy table swung to one side. The white glow winked out as the unicorn on the other end, distracted by the sudden movement, lost control of his spell, and in that brief moment Alchemy kicked the bench he was behind up into the air.

He jumped, his body spinning as he brought his hind hoof around, striking the middle of the bench just as it cleared the table. It flew through the air, tumbling and turning as it soaked up multiple stun blasts before crashing into the doorway with a loud bang. He was already moving when it hit—not for the door, he was far too low on potion to take on a dozen or more unicorns at once, especially ones that had come hunting for him, but for the kitchen where his recently completed potion batch was sitting on the counter. He slid through the entryway, his hooves skidding across the smooth stone and—

Up! his mind screamed. He kicked out with all four limbs, launching himself upward as a beam of bright, purple magic screamed through the space where he’d just been. Literally screamed; there was a ripping, tearing sound that came with it, as if metal were being sheared apart. He twisted in mid air, his hooves slamming into the ceiling, absorbing the impact of his rushed leap and redirecting his momentum forward and down. The beam was gone, the air now full of the snap-hiss of the stun bolts and his own labored breathing as he came down atop the unicorn that had fired at him. He drove the unicorn’s jaw into the stone ground, breaking it as well as knocking the pony out.

They’re inside! How did they get inside! He jerked again, skipping out of the way as another unicorn appeared from within the depths of the house, her horn already lit with orange fire. The fire beam ripped past him, so close he could feel the hair on his legs shriveling as the intense heat blasted by. It hit the far wall, the flames licking out across the stone and greedily taking root on the supportive wood bracing.

A flash of dark, purple not-light erupted in the corner of his eyes, and he ducked, throwing out a hoof as he did so and catching the newly arrived shadow in the center of the chest. The stallion let out a cry of pain, flying back under the force of the blow and hitting the wall like a damp rag.

“Go!” somepony was shouting. “Inside! Get him!” A second bolt of flame snapped towards him and he ducked as pain erupted along the left side of his head, a searing, burning pain that tugged the breath from him in a ragged yell. He rushed forward, sliding on his stomach and catching the offending mage in the front legs with his hooves. The mage, surprise, dropped to the stone, and a single hoof across his jaw, perhaps one a little more energetic than it needed to be, knocked the attacker out cold.

Potion! He could feel his supply dwindling under the added weight of his new injury, his flesh burning and warping as it undid the light surface damage the blast had left. Burns of this level were new, and he wasn’t sure how quickly his body would adapt—or how much the healing was going to take out of him.

I can’t keep this up forever, he thought, rolling out of the way as a series of stun bolts ricocheted off the stone where he’d been lying. He was already dangerously low. Any longer and he’d go from being capable of stepping around incoming bolts to eating them with his face while slowly dying inside. The potion he needed was close though; he was just below the counter where his kit had been set up.

Move! Another stun bolt burst against the cabinets, bits of stray magic energy arcing out into the air, filling his nose with the scent of electrical discharge and smoke. The discharge was from the bolts. The smoke was from the burning supports.

He pushed himself up, feeling the last bits of power in his chest dwindle as he shoved his body up and over the counter, his hoof reaching for the potion bottle he’d set there earlier. All he needed was one slightly larger than normal dose and—

It was gone. His hoof swung through empty air, his eyes widening in shock as he twisted his head, looking for the bottle. It was gone. Along with his entire potion kit.

“Gotcha!” A brightly colored magic field snapped into place around his body, freezing his momentum and holding him in the air. He kicked out, hoping to break the concentration of whoever was holding him, but they were smart. The field was keeping him in place and slowing him, but it wasn’t preventing him from moving, and it was holding him just out of reach of anything in the kitchen. As long as he couldn’t push off of anything and the field kept a good grip, he was helpless.

Worse, he could feel the power in his chest starting to give out.

“Looking for this?” an unfamiliar voice asked. He twisted in the air, rotating his body until he could see a grey-coated, older-looking unicorn stallion with three ascending red bands on his horn standing at the entrance to the kitchen. Both Alchemy’s kit and the bottle with the potion he needed were floating in the air next to the stallion, wrapped in a vivid, green glow.

“I’d heard rumors of an alchemist who wasn’t quite what he’d seemed back in Ruffian’s Wharf,” the unicorn said, his eyes going wild as he smiled. “I never would have believed a member of a lesser race such as yourself would have been capable of creating something like this. I assume this potion you were trying to reach is the source of your unique capabilities?”

Alchemy clenched his jaw, kicking as four more mages walked around the corner, their horns aglow with a bright white glow—the source of the field holding him in place. One of the horns flashed a little brighter, a shield forming over the burning boards and starving oxygen from the spreading flames. More shouts were coming from the other rooms, calls that the rest of the house was empty.

“How disappointing,” the ringleader replied with a droll roll of his voice. “I had hoped to find all of you here. Lord Sagis was kind enough to secure us this little discretion before we left the city. I must admit I’d hoped to capture your griffon friend, the one who seems to be able to resist magic … but no matter.” He shook his head. “I’ll settle for this. I’ve never studied alchemy—it is, after all, a by-product of weaker, less pure minds hoping to acquire that which is out of their grasp. But you, my curious friend, may have stumbled across something that could be of great help to my research.”

The power was almost gone now. He kicked, trying to free himself from the telekinetic field, but it was pressing down on him now, reinforcing itself with each movement. More unicorns were entering the room, adding their own magic the force already holding him, tightening its grip across his body. And the unicorn who was holding his potion was giving him a clinical look, like he was a specimen of some kind.

“You won’t learn anything from that potion,” he said, forcing his words out. “It’s attuned to only me. It’s what’s keeping me alive. It won’t work on anypony else. I’m an alchemist. A doctor. I know what I’m—”

“Really?” the unicorn said, letting out a laugh. “I’m a doctor as well. However, unlike you, I don’t concern myself with lesser races. Well, unless you count improving them, helping them achieve their natural station in life. Like the behemoth you faced in the vault. And killed.” His voice took on a dark overtone. “That was my work.”

“That?” Alchemy said, shoving the words out as he struggled against the field, a nasueated feeling spilling through his gut. Not all of it was as result of his being low on potion. “You sick freak! That was a perversion—!”

“It was a freedom!” the unicorn said, flashing him a tooth-filled, unsettling smile. “I gave that weak earth pony a purpose! I gave him more than he could ever be without a unicorn.”

“You made him a monster,” Alchemy said, spitting the word out. “You’re sick.”

“I disagree,” the unicorn said, still smiling. “But I wouldn’t expect you to understand the value of my research. You are, after all, nothing but a weak-minded, magicless earth pony, riding currents far too deep for you to comprehend, even if you have stumbled across something …” His eyes drifting to the bottle of potion. “Interesting.”

“You’re sick,” Alchemy said, shaking his head. “Sick and twisted.”

“No,” the unicorn said. “You merely think that because you’re a lesser race. You need to be shown how to think, and how to act. You need to know what your place is, where your words are. But you won’t see it. So we have to do it for you.” He let out a slight giggle, and Alchemy pulled back in surprise.

He’s nuts, he realized as the stallion laughed. Crazy.

“But anyway, I doubt a close-minded fool such as yourself would never understand willingly,” the unicorn said, his laughter stopping as he looked back up at Alchemy. “Which is why I’m not even going to try.”

“Oh, so you’re going to let me go then.”

“Hardly.” The unicorn’s eyes narrowed. “I am Cell, and you, my fine friend, are going to be my newest research subject.” Alchemy’s jaw almost dropped in horror, a mounting sense of panic filling him as he realized what the unicorn was suggesting.

“It’ll be wonderful,” Cell continued. “I’ll open you up. See how this potion works. And when I’ve learned everything I can from it … the Order needs a new behemoth. The procedure might not work on you, but … well, you’re replaceable after that point.”

No! No! Alchemy began kicking in all directions, lashing out and sending his body into a spin.

“Poor, deluded, unenlightened little mud-grubber,” he heard Cell say. “Stun him.”

“No!” The first bolt cracked against his back, his shoulders and neck going numb. What was left of his potion went to work immediately, and he felt the last of its power flicker away as the nerves began to tingle. “Potion!” he yelled as another bolt slapped into his legs. “Without it I die!”

“We’ll see,” Cell said as another bolt caught Alchemy in the head, his world exploding into a blur of sound and noise. “I think …” Cell said, his voice distorted and muffled, as if something was covering his ears. “I’ll want to study this. More than once.”

“You can’t …” No. He didn’t want—

Another bolt caught him in the chest. The impacts were staying numb now, his body too spent to recover quickly.

I won’t be one of those things.

Another bolt hit him in the shoulder. Back. Flank. Sides. Face.

No.

More bolts, coming in from all sides. The world was blurring together now, colors flowing into one another as his eyes began to roll back in his head.

I won’t.

Someone was talking, speaking, but he couldn’t make out the words. He could barely feel the bolts crashing into his body.

Not …

More bolts.

One of those …

The world began to fade away, colors melting into grey and then sliding towards black. Reality was fading away under the constant, grinding fire of the order.

I’m … an alchemist. I make the world … better.

Around him the world was gone, replaced by faint buzzing sounds filling his skull as his body began to shut down.

At least … the rest of … the team … is safe … They’ll come for me …

The buzzing faded, the last of his energy vanishing with it, his thoughts crumbling into a disjointed mess as consciousness began to fade.

At least they weren’t here, he thought. They’re safe.

Consciousness gone, he knew no more.

Count of Laws Broken: 2
Total Laws Broken: 92
Damage Value (In Bits): 0
Total Damage Value (In Bits): 390,941

Chapter 30 - No Holding Back

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Sheerwater - The Safe House

Blade knew something was wrong the moment she came around the corner and saw the safe house. First, because safe houses weren’t supposed to have small crowds around them. They were supposed to be private, innocuous things, the kind of place that older individuals would wander past and smile at because of their simplicity, sameness, and general feeling of belonging. They weren’t supposed to have a crowd of what looked like almost two dozen concerned griffons standing around outside.

And second, because the front door was completely gone. It wasn’t just open, it was gone, as if torn away by some force. Light was spilling out onto the semi-lit street from inside, a warm beacon that betrayed the cold sense of alarm moving through her gut.

Tartarus. Someone hit us. And she had a pretty good idea of who, too. We must have passed each other in the dark, she thought. On different streets or different paths. Not that doing anything would have been wise if they had met. An open street battle would have attracted far more attention than they could hope to put off.

Then again, that looked like what had happened here. One way or another, if their cover wasn’t blown, it was about to be. And it was too late to turn away, to pretend that the house wasn’t theirs. Several members of the gathered crowd were already pointing at them.

No point in denying it, she thought as she neared the crowd, slowing her pace. The individual who was coming out of the crowd was carrying a short truncheon, though he wasn’t wearing the armor of the guards. The local “street leader,” then. He’d probably already sent for the guards. And if he had … Well, I guess that’s just going to make our next step a little easier. But first ….

“What’s going on here!” she called before the older-looking griffon could speak. She came to a stop several feet from the edges of the crowd, her wings spreading just wide enough to let everyone there know that she was the one who’d spoken. “What happened!?”

“We don’t know,” the ringleader of the group said, spreading his own wings a little as he stepped away from the edges of the group. “One minute everything was quiet, the next thing we know there’s a loud bang and a whole group of ponies are pouring into the house.”

“Unicorns?” Frost asked as she came to a stop next to Blade. Her voice was labored, her breathing heavy, and there was a thick sheen of sweat across her body from the run back to the safe house, but there was no mistaking the cold edge to her tone.

“I don’t know,” the griffon said, shaking his head. “They were using magic, so at least some of them were. This your house?”

“It is,” Blade said, striding forward and daring the griffon to back out of her way. He didn’t.

“Well, we’ve sent for the guard,” the griffon said, giving her a quick nod. “They’ll be here soon, and then you can talk to them about it, but until then, no one goes—”

His words cut off with a faint squawk of surprise as Blade shoved him out of the way. “It’s our place, and we’re going in,” she said, the crowd murmuring but then parting around her. “Don’t get in our way.”

“But the guard—!” the griffon began, lifting his truncheon.

“We’ll talk with them when they show up,” Blade called back over her shoulder. “In fact, we might even meet them halfway.” The griffon began sputtering something, but she ignored it. What was important was the safe house. She quickened her pace.

“Alchemy?” she called as she stepped in the door. Her heart was still pounding, either from the run or the surprise of finding the safe house a combat zone, she wasn’t sure which. The destroyed front room stretched in front of her, bits of stone remnants peppering the ground. One of the benches had been snapped into two pieces, one lying near either side of the doorframe. Scorched and burnt patches filled the stone around the room, and the top of the stone table looked as if part of it had simply come apart and dissolved into dust. She could smell ozone and woodsmoke on the air, burning the inside of her beak.

“Fan out,” she said as Frost and Hain entered the room behind her. “Check the upstairs, check the tunnel entrances. We need to see if Alchemy is still here or made it out. Watch for traps.” She could hear the rustle of the crowd behind her growing louder. She didn’t care. The time for subterfuge was over.

Hoofsteps echoed against stone as Frost began walking up the steps. “Alchemy?” she called her horn glowing a bright purple. Blade had no doubt that anything that surprised her would find itself cut apart by dozens of thin, cold blades. Or maybe impaled on a gigantic spike.

She moved into the front room, casting her eyes across the damage. The woodsmoke smell increased, and she passed into the kitchen to see signs of fire damage on the wooden supports. They’d been put out, but a few of them were still smoking. She reached out and touched one with her talon.

Still warm, she thought. But not warm enough. She’d have to ask the crowd how long ago the attack had happened, but it probably wouldn’t matter. They’ve been gone long enough that trying to track them would be a waste. We already know where they’re going. The Superiority, and then south to the desert, where apparently someone was already in the process of digging up Anubis’s ancient city-tomb.

She took a quick look around the kitchen, noting the smear of blood on one part of the floor as well as what looked like a pony tooth near the base of the cooler. Hopefully it wasn’t Alchemy’s. Then again, maybe he could regrow teeth. He’d healed from just about anything else.

But of the orange earth pony himself, or his equipment, there was no sign.

“You find anything?” she asked as she met Hain in the front room. He shook his head, his grey feathers trembling.

“No,” he said. “None of the back exits look like they’ve been used. Too many cobwebs on the doors. He didn’t go out that way.” Hoofsteps echoed through the room and Frost walked down the stairs, something held in her magic.

“Nothing upstairs,” she said. “But this.” Alchemy’s combat harness floated forward. “His potion kit wasn’t up there.”

“It’s not down here, either,” Blade said. “Could he have run for—?”

“No,” Frost said, her voice cold. “They took him.”

Blade paused. “You’re sure?” The mare nodded, her amber mane swirling around her head.

“The potion kit is gone, but none of our other stuff was touched. I heard correctly that the tunnels were unused, correct?” Hain nodded, and Frost’s eyes flashed. “Then unless he escaped, which I find unlikely as his best course of action would have been to regroup with us when we returned, then the most probable answer is that the cult took him.”

“Why would the cult take him?” Blade asked.

“Because he’s an anomaly,” Hain said, speaking before Frost. “He’s an earth pony that can do things no other pony can do, not even the cult. That’s why they took his potion kit too, and unless I miss my guess, that big bottle of Alchemy’s potion he put together earlier.”

“Tartarus,” Blade said. “They’re going to study him, aren’t they.”

“Yes,” Frost said, and Blade felt a cold chill sweep through the room. “They’ll give him to Cell, the Order’s lead researcher. And he’ll study him until he can’t learn anything more.”

“That’s not going to happen,” Blade said, narrowing her eyes as a sense of resolve swept through her. “We’re not going to let that happen.” She glanced at both of them, her ruff rising a slow, deliberate anger began to move through her. “We’ve been on our back feet since this whole mess started. We’ve let Anubis control things from the start and do things his way. Now it’s time to put him on his back feet. We know where he’d going, and we know the cult’s going with him. We’re going after him.”

She turned towards Frost. “Grab our gear. Bring it down here. We’re going to need it.”

“We’ll need more than that,” Hain said, but there was no hesitation in his gruff voice. It was a question of whether or not they would, it was a question of how.

“Don’t worry,” she said, a grim smile moving across her face as hoofsteps echoed through the destroyed home once more. “I know where we can get some.”

“Gear,” Frost called as she came back down the stairs, the rest of the team’s bags floating behind her. Blade grabbed Alchemy’s potion bag. Someone had to.

Outside the door, she could see the intrigued looks on the faces of the crowd. They probably hadn’t heard much, but they’d heard enough to be interested. She’d need to disperse them for her next trick to work. Fortunately, she knew just how to do that. But first …

“Frost,” she said as she finished cinching Alchemy’s bags around her waist. “If you were to look at a map of the desert again, do you think you could guide us to the spot on the map that was marked in the professor’s office?”

“Yes.” There was no hesitation to her words, only a curt, quick nod. “I’ve seen it once. I can remember it.”

“Good,” Blade said. “I have a feeling we’ll only need to get to the rough location. After that, I’m pretty sure we’ll be able to hone in on whatever Anubis is up to without much trouble.” She took a quick look around the rest of the room, eyeing the scattered books that had been thrown against the walls in the fight. It hadn’t been home, but it hadn’t been a poor place to crash either. Books was going to lose his mind when he found out what they’d done to it.

For that matter, so was Rys. But he could get in line. She was done hiding. It was time to make some sapients angry.

“Got everything?” she asked, looking at Hain and Frost. They both nodded, and she stepped towards the front door, pausing just long enough to grab her own bag. The eyes of the watching crowd were on the group as they filed out of the house.

“All right!” Blade called, briefly making eye contact with the griffon who’d taken charge and giving him a grin. “Listen up! My name is Blade Sunchaser, and I’m a wandering claw, currently on a job. You know what that means.”

They did. She could see a few uneasy glances moving through the crowd. Perfect. Several of them shifted to the sky and she followed their gaze to see an oncoming trio of griffons flying their way. The Sheerwater Guard. Even better.

“Now,” she said, shifting her eyes back to the crowd and then smirking. “I know you’re all curious about what’s going on here, but my team and I require a little privacy while we’re speaking with the guard. So, to make it up for you ... “ She reached into her bag and pulled out a single bound mass of reeds. “This is a thousand reeds,” she said, holding the bundle of aluminum in the air above her head. “Split it among yourselves somewhere else, and give us some privacy.” She tossed it onto the street in front of the crowd.

For a moment the crowd hesitated, but then they lunged forward, grabbing the bundle of reeds and heading back to their homes. Though she had no doubt that many of them would be watching from the windows. But a thousand reeds wasn’t chump change, and upon hearing that she was a wandering claw, well … she’d seen the look on their faces. Most of them were familiar with what kind of chaos tended to follow a wandering claw on a job.

Nice, she thought, switching her attention to the oncoming guards. And now for the next step. “Hey!” she said, waving her forelegs and wings at the oncoming guards. “Down here! We need help!”

“Blade?” Hain asked, sounding slightly alarmed. “What are you doing?”

“You know my plan B?” she asked.

“Yeah.”

“This is plan C,” she said, still waving her arms as the guards picked up speed. “Be ready. And trust me.”

Hain nodded and stayed silent, though she could bet she knew what was running through his and Frost’s mind.

“Hey!” she called again, waving her forelegs. “Help!”

“Bayan,” the leader of the trio said as she landed. “Sorun nedir?”

“We need help,” Blade said, sticking to Equestrian so that Frost would understand her. “Our home was just broken into.” She sized up the guard. Lightly armored, with minimal head protection and equipment. Beat guards. Perfect.

“Evet,” the leader said, stepping forward as the other two members of the trio landed behind her. “Biz burada bu yüzden. Ne biz yardımcı olmak için ne yapabilirim?” The griffon took another step forward.

“Easy,” Blade said, grinning at the now-confused guard. “You can give us your keys.”

“Ne—?” The guard’s question died as Blade’s fist hit her square in the side of the temple. She crumpled under the force of the blow, her head snapping to one side as she fell away. Her two compatriots let out startled squawks—one of which terminated in a gasp as Hain shot forward, slamming the flat of his palms against sides of the griffon’s head. An uppercut swept up moment later and knocked the griffon back, unconscious.

The final member of the guard trio flapped his wings and began to lift into the air, only to stop, his hind leg frozen to the ground by a block of ice that had engulfed his entire paw. A similar block of ice surged around his beak, sealing his mouth and nostrils shut, and Blade could see the panicked look in his eyes. He couldn’t breath.

His talons slashed down at the ice on his face, chipping away at it, and Blade leapt forward, darting around his flailing wings and bringing her foreleg up underneath his chin. Her target tried to shake her off, but his talons were growing ice as well, ice that was blending together into solid lumps that kept his claws from finding any bite. By the time he tried to dash them against the street to break the ice free, he was too weak to do more than make faint clicks against the pavement, and after another minute, he passed out. Blade waited a moment longer to make sure that he was really unconscious rather than simply faking it and then let go of the guard’s throat.

“Take the ice off,” she said, a crack splitting the air as Frost obliged, and the guard took in a deep, greedy breath, sucking air in franticly.

“Right,” Blade said, stepping up to the lead guard. “Now, which of you has it?”

“Has what?” Hain asked, giving her a curious look. “Whatever it is it’d better be valuable, Blade. This is the kind of thing that gets you in serious trouble.”

“We’re already in serious trouble,” she said, rolling the guard onto her back. “Aha!” There was a faint jingling sound as she pulled the key-ring free. “Bingo.”

“What are those?” Frost asked. “Keys?”

“Yep,” Blade said, standing and examining the brass ring. None of the six keys were labeled, but they didn’t need to be. There was one more thing to check. She glanced at the patch on the lead griffon’s shoulder. Number one-seventeen.

“This way,” she said, turning and moving up the street at a run. She slowed for a moment to allow Hain and Frost to catch up. From the corner of her eyes she could see a few of the civilians watching them go. As soon as they left, the group would be all over the three guards. There would be an arrest warrant out quickly.

“Where are we going?” Hain asked. “To get a ship?”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “Not yet. We need equipment first. Weapons. Armor.”

“So?”

She grinned. “We’re going shopping.”

* * *

The guard station was quiet at the moment. Which, Kilred reflected as he leaned back in his seat, wasn’t too bad, all things considered. There’d been a bit of noise earlier when Syr, Mathus, and Gilder had hauled in a belligerent griffon who’d had a little too much to drink, and then that spot of trouble where Jinx, Legard, and Istan had been sent out to help with a panic problem over near the west markets. And then the most recent break-in report, which Syr, Mathus and Gilder had been sent back out to deal with.

Still, all in all, it was a pretty quiet night. He glanced up at the clock above the door, his eyes watching the minute hand crawl across the clock face. Almost. Most nights all the heaviest activity came before nine. In another ten minutes, that period would have passed.

Then, and only then, would he lean back even further, reach into his desk drawer, and pull out the newest book he’d picked up from the local library. He wasn’t sure what it was about yet, but from the tough looking griffon lady with swords on the cover, it at least promised to try to be interesting. Maybe it wouldn’t be though. There’d been plenty of lousy books he’d read over the years that had looked good. And some that didn’t look good but had turned out to be pretty spectacular.

Kind of like this job, he thought as he shifting his weight, getting his tail out from underneath him. Either way, in about ten minutes he’d be able to find out. Unless Syr comes back with a load of paperwork. Break-ins were usually pretty straightforward and rare, but every so often life liked to throw a sudden bit of turbulence at its fliers.

Whatever, he thought as he watched the clock. If it does, then it does. It’s what I’m getting paid to do, after all. Reading was just a bonus.

At least it’s nice and quiet in here tonight, he thought as he took a long, slow look around the room. Not because he needed to—he knew the room better than his own wingfeathers—but just to do something while passing the time. I’m glad that drunk wasn’t anything like last night’s. He shuddered. That had been a mess. The griffon had been a tourist from elsewhere in the Empire and had guzzled down far more drinks than she ever should have been given. The result had been … messy. And as the armory guard, responsible for station and maintenance upkeep, he’d been the one who’d had to clean it up. Twice. Normally he would have been able to order one of the beat guards to do it, since it had been their arrest, but with the disturbance that had taken place at … He shook his head, unable to remember the name of the rich noble who’d had their home broken into. In any case, he’d ended up being the only one available to clean that mess. The only other choice had been Guard House Commander Ironeye, and as an armory guard there was no way in Tartarus he was going to be able to pull that one off.

He let out a faint sigh as his eyes finished their circuit. Come to think of it, the last few days had been a lot more exciting than normal, what with the break-ins of the old crypts and the rich nobles’ houses. I hope it gets back to normal soon, he thought. All this eventful stuff is a little off-putting. Their section of Sheerwater was normally fairly tame—the most common activity that their little guard station had dealt with on a regular basis outside of kits causing trouble was the occasional organized crime or arbitrating an honor dispute of some kind.

A dull thump echoed through the floor, and he shifted in his seat. Lovely. So it’s going to be one of those nights. The drunk that Syr and her team had brought in earlier had quieted down pretty quick, but every so often … There was another thump, this one shorter but with more force behind it. Every so often a drunk or some other resident of the cells would discover that if they lay on their bench just right, they could deliver a satisfying kick at the wall from a fairly relaxed position, a kick that was just loud enough to keep them entertained.

The thump came again, but this time he twitched, as there had been something attached to it that was new. A faint noise that had almost sounded like a yell.

“What in the clear skies of Reus is going on out there?” Kilred asked, rising from his seat. The vibrations and direction of the impacts seemed wrong too. It almost felt like they were coming from—

The door swung inward, slamming against the wall with a loud bang as a bundle of rust red feathers flew at him, talons outstretched. He reacted instantly, falling back into the familiar combat stance that the academy had trained him with, the “rank and file” combat style that was burned into his muscles, but by the time he got his talons up, his attacker was already inside his reach, his—no, her talons sweeping aside his own as her head shot forward—

The impact was fast and hard, slamming through his skull so hard his teeth clicked together, beak snapping shut. He fell back, his world spinning, and out of the corner of his eye he saw his attacker’s fist pull back—

The word erupted in stars before fading away into blackness. As it did, he had time for one last, desperate thought.

This is going to produce so much paperwork …

His attacker stepped back, though he was no longer aware to see it, watching as the armory guard slumped to the ground and making sure that he was unconscious before stepping over his body. Behind her should could hear her compatriots entering the room, one after the other, and she turned to them with a quick grin.

“Any problems?” Blade asked. Frost and Hain shook their heads.

“Everyone’s down,” Hain said. “They put up a little bit of a fight, but nothing hard.”

“Good. Any injuries?”

“No,” Hain said. “Not to us or them. They might have a bit of a headache, though.”

“Eh,” Blade said, stepping around the armory guard’s desk and coming to a stop by the thick stone door behind his desk. “Love taps. Nothing they didn’t sign up for.”

“There was a prisoner in the cells next to us,” Frost said as Blade pulled out the keys. “Drunk, from the smell.”

“Any problems?” Blade asked as she tried the first key. Nothing.

“No,” Frost replied. “They were asleep.”

“Good,” Blade said as she moved to another key. “As long as they stay that way and don’t raise a huge fuss, we’re fine.” The scratch of the next key against the lock was the only sound in the room for the next few moments as she shoved it into the lock, tried to turn it, and then pulled it out and moved to the next one.

“So,” Hain said as she slipped the second to last key in. “Shopping, huh?”

“We’ll leave some reeds,” she said as the armory door let out a loud click. “Got it.”

“Why not just find an armorer?” Frost asked.

“Because, we’d have to travel further,” she said as she shoved the armory door inward. “And they wouldn’t have as nice a selection. After all,” she said as the magilight flickered on, bathing the room in a cool, white glow. “Look at all that.”

Row upon row of armor and weapons stretched in front of them, each shelved and organized according to type, situation, and size. Though the armory room was small, it had been filled to capacity, each of the five rows stretching from the floor to the ceiling, every inch of their racks and shelving occupied. Clearly labeled signs on the end of each row gave a complete list of the materiel equipment of the row, complete with sizing, count, and specialty notes.

“Moon above …” Frost said, her jaw dropping. “This is a guard armory?”

Blade grinned. “It’s an Empire guard armory in the capital city. We’re griffons. We’re always ready for a fight.” She stepped through the doorway, running her eyes down the rows of gear, hunting for what she wanted. “In the event of an incursion, each of the clans has their own military wing, in addition to the ruling clan’s military wing, but just in case the local clans don’t have enough militia, these armories serve as a backup. During an attack, anyone is free to come to these stations and arm themselves, should they need better equipment. The armory guard maintains it and uses it if needed in the meantime.”

“I think I understand now,” Frost said as she stepped up to one of the rows of materiel.

“Understand what?” Blade asked as she stepped over to the next row. Hain stepped past her, still browsing.

“Why the Griffon Empire has never fallen to the minotaur city-states,” Frost said, vanishing between one of the rows. “The way Aeliana and Barnabas spoke of their homeland, they were always in need of territory.”

“Oh, they tried,” Blade said as she found the sign she wanted. She turned down the aisle and began walking, her targets already catching her eyes. There you are.

“I know,” Frost said. “I just understand now why they didn’t succeed.”

Blade let out a laugh as she stopped in front of what she’d come looking to find. “Well, we weren’t always so well established about it. The Founding was what really brought us together.” There was no response from Frost. Apparently she’d found something to hold her interest, or she’d just decided that the conversation was over.

Just as well, Blade thought as she reached out and lifted the armor plating in her talons. It was light, incredibly so, but still strong. “Hey, Hain,” she said as she glanced at the rest of the supply. There was enough for three griffons to fully outfit themselves with a little extra. More than enough. “Before you pick out any armor, take a look at this stuff first.”

A moment later the older griffon stepped around the corner and let out a gasp of surprise. “Is that … Royal Guard armor?”

She nodded, tilting the lightweight chestplate so that its flat red-and-gold color scheme shone under the light. “Yes is it. Light, strong, and tough. There’s a few sets of these at every guard station, reserved for retired or off-duty Royal Guards.”

“Is it up to date?” Hain asked, reaching out and lifting a vambrace in his talons.

“Technically?” Blade said with a laugh. “Not anymore. There’s some new stuff in Equestria that puts this stuff to shame, but until that’s a bit more widespread … Yeah, this is the good stuff.”

“This is probably worth more than a thousand reeds,” Hain said as he began moving down the display of Royal Armor, picking and choosing from what was available.

“Then we’ll leave a potion. That’ll pay for it,” she, placing the full plate back on the shelf. She didn’t want something that heavy. Something lighter, however … Her eyes settled on selection of segmented armor pieces, designed to be attached to a full combat harness. Perfect.

“Pick fast,” she said, holding several of the armor pieces up to check her size and then stuffing them in her bags. “I don’t want someone wandering in while we’re here.”

“Done,” Hain said, cinching his bags closed and tossing them back over his shoulder. “Amazing. Armor was never this light when I was a—when I was young.”

“Yeah, we’ve made great strides,” she said, grabbing a full combat harness and shoving it in atop the gear she’d picked out. “Believe me, this is just the front of the storm. There’s some interesting stuff out there. Don’t forget weapons,” she said, turning and making her way back up the aisle.

“I won’t,” Hain said. “And new stuff? Like what?”

“What, I don’t know,” Blade said, stopping by one of the weapon racks and eyeing the crossbows hanging there. Most were older models, out of date but cared for, but there were a few more recent models as well. Many of the newer ones had short, vicious-looking blades attached to the front, an extra insurance policy if your opponent got close enough. It hadn’t taken long at all for that particular idea to spread like an uncontrolled storm. “But the result is pretty impressive. Let me just say this—if you see a pony in crystalline, full-body armor, you’re in for a fight.”

“What, like the ones in the newspapers? The Crystal Empire place?” Hain frowned. “You were with us when that place appeared, and from what I understand, their stuff is over a thousand years out-of-date.”

She shook her head. Would a crossbow be good against those skeletons? she wondered as she looked at the row of weapons. What kind of bolt would I need?

“Not those guys,” she said, shaking her head as she spotted a locked cabinet at the base of the crossbow display with a familiar symbol on it. She reached out and picked up one of the newer crossbow models, a Kelron that she’d heard packed enough punch to compete with the penetration power of rifles. The blade bit into the wood around the cabinet, the lock parting with a loud, metallic snap. She flung the cabinet open, revealing a whole row of heavy-tipped crossbow bolts.

These’ll work, she thought as she began pulling out bolt after bolt, checking each tip to make sure that it was still locked in the “safe” position before placing it in her bag. As safe as these get.

“Anyway,” she said as Hain picked up a small mace from the rack across the aisle. “You’ll know this stuff when you see it. Very new. Very high-tech.”

“Your employer?” Hain asked, attaching the mace to his harness.

“Yeah,” she said, leaving the rest of the special bolts inside the cabinet. Ten would do. She wasn’t sure how long she’d be able to use the crossbow anyway. The Kelron got strapped to the side of her bags, the blade folded into a safety position.

“Almost done?” she called out as she walked back to the front of the armory. There was one more thing she wanted, something that could—There. On the aisle next to the one she’d just been on. Swords. Her talons were good, but against a skeleton, she’d need something heavier. Something with more reach.

“Almost,” Frost called from one of the other aisles. “There are firearms here. Do we want any?”

“Any blunderbusses?” Hain asked as Blade walked down the aisle, eyeing the selection.

“Blunderbusses? They’re guns to me. There’s rifles and there’s pistols, right?”

“I’ll check,” Hain said.

There, Blade though, reaching out and picking up a sheathed claymore. That’s got the weight and reach I’ll need. It’s perfect. She gave it a quick heft and then pulled it free of its scabbard. Not too heavy, actually. Maybe five pounds. That’ll go right through old bone.

She slung the sheath around her shoulders, resting the long blade along her back and then walked back towards the front of the armory. “You guys ready?”

“I am,” Frost said, walking out of one of the aisles with a dangerous-looking recurve bow floating alongside her. The front of the bow, just above and below where the user would have held it had they been using their talons, sported a pair of short metal blades that jutted outward. Another pair of blades rested at each tip of the bow, forward-slanting so that the user could still string it. The design had never been very popular, though Blade could recall having seen a few before.

But then, those users had been griffons who’d been forced to handle the weapon with their talons. Frost was a unicorn.

“Good choice,” Blade said, nodding in approval. Frost smiled, sliding a protective covering across the front of the bow and removing the string as she packed it away. “Aren’t you going to get armor?”

“I can make armor,” Frost said, tapping her horn with one hoof. “I’m fine without trying to adapt something meant for another species.”

“Fine,” Blade said, turning her eyes to Hain as he walked out of the aisle, the hilt of a single blunderbuss sticking out of his bags. “Got what you needed?” The old griffon nodded.

“Perfect,” Blade said reaching back and pulling another bundle of reeds out of her bag. “Think a thousand reeds will cover it?” Hain shrugged, and she tossed the bundle on the ground.

“If not, they can bill me when this is over,” she said as she moved for the door. “Come on. I want to be well underway by the time someone alerts another station and they start looking for us.”

“Where to now?” Frost asked as she moved quickly through the remains of the station, jumping over the unconscious guards.

“Where else?” Blade said. “We’re getting a ride. Then we’re rescuing Alchemy. And then?” She picked up speed as she blasted through the front door of the station and out onto the street. “Then, we go after Anubis.”

They ran in silence for a bit, earning a few passing stares from the griffons they sped past, though the actual reasons behind each look were more of curiosity than alarm. In Equestria, had she run through the streets of Canterlot wearing the same amount of weaponry, she would have been treated with everything from suspicious stares to perhaps calls for the Guard—not that she could entirely blame them. Equestria was pretty peaceful, and someone running with the amount of weaponry her team was at high speed through the streets? At night? It was out of place.

Here, in Sheerwater, it was likely to get you followers, griffons who were just curious to see if there was a scrap somewhere they could get into. She’d been lucky enough that most of the civilians back at the safe house hadn’t jumped her and the rest of the group the moment they’d attacked the guards—though her statement about being wandering claw had probably had a bit to do with that. Not many wanted to get caught up in that kind of mess, especially with money at stake.

She skipped the closest airship dock, since it was probably the first place the guard would check once they started looking for her and the rest of the group. It was a risk, but the closer dock was smaller anyway, and there was a better chance of finding good transport at a larger berth.

As long as they don’t take wing and run us down before we get there, she thought as she checked their location, adjusting their path down another narrow street. Sticking to the back streets will help, but we’re still leaving a trail. Which is what she wanted to do. She just didn’t want to get caught. Yet.

Actually, she preferred not to get caught at all. Chased was another matter.

She could see the lights of an airship dock up ahead now, built into the top of a smaller stone pillar. Elevators were running even this late at night as ships offloaded their cargo or took on more, and she could see the lights of another airship coming into dock. But none of them were truly large airships—nothing she could see was over a hundred and fifty feet in length. A few of the vessels were large for independent shippers, but they were still independent vessels.

They took one of the public elevators to the top, their armament getting a few curious and admirative looks from a few nearby griffons, but little else. Most of the patrons riding the elevator up to the top with them were there for the same reason they were. Business. Most of them didn’t even look at the view, though Blade noticed that Frost certainly did, her eyes drifting across the cityscape as they climbed higher and higher.

“This way,” she said as they debarked, turning them towards where the smaller airships were docked. Lights were on in several of the vessels, a good sign, since Alchemy had been their pilot most of the time for their last airship, and they didn’t have him around anymore if they chose to steal one.

Something fast, she thought, eyeing the various ships looming out of the dark. Something sleek. Something quick. Something … like that. It was a long, dagger-like vessel, clearly a pleasure boat more than anything else. A small, sleek envelope. Several props on, stubby little wings. Even the name, Free Skies was written at a slant.

And best of all, the light inside the cabin was on. Someone was home. She trotted out onto the small, free-hanging walkway the airship was tied to, eyeing the slight up-and-down bob of the airship. It’s outer deck was almost level with the dock itself, so there wasn’t a gangplank, though the gunwale meant that unless she wanted to climb over the side, she’d have to open a small gate set in the side. Not yet though. She rapped her knuckles against the wood. Hard, in order to be heard over the ambient noise of the docks.

“Selam!” she said, her knocks echoing across the dock. “Eve kimse?”

Something moved across one of the portholes, blocking the light, and a moment later the rear door opened, a dark-grey griffon sticking his head out and giving them a friendly but surprised look. He was wearing a battered, sun-faded, red baseball cap on his head.

“Selam?” he said. There was a surprised tone in his voice, which given the hour, Blade didn’t find too surprising. For a second the griffon just stared at her.

“Ah, Selam!” he said after a moment, opening the door and stepping out onto the deck. “Sizin için ne—?” He caught himself as he caught sight of Frost. “Equestrian?” he asked, his accent sticking out a bit even with the different language, but the word still recognizable. It sounded like he was from the southeastern side of the Empire. “What can I do for you?”

“Do you charter your ship out?” Blade asked.

The griffon’s eyebrows lifted a bit beneath his cap. “Charter her out? Ridgie didge! I do. Captain Skylark at your service, miss,” he said, giving her a quick salute with two of his talons. “You and your mates looking to make a trip?”

“We are,” Blade said, nodding. “How fast is your ship?”

“Fast enough,” he said, scratching at his forehead. “Flat out she’ll keep pace with most ships twice her size. Need to be somewhere in a hurry?” She could see his eyes flickering towards the weapons they were wearing.

“That’ll do,” Blade said. “We’re heading out into the Turuncu Desert. We can show you where on a map.”

“Alright,” Skylark said. “Private charter like this, be about five-hundred reeds. Come back tomorrow morning and—”

“One thousand reeds and we leave now,” she said. “Payment up front.”

“Huh.” Skylark gave her a long, curious look. “That’s a lot of money for a jaunt down to the desert. And if I tell you lot to rack off?”

“Then we board your vessel very fast and do this the hard way,” Blade said, her eyes narrowing. “You get nothing, and we get passage to the desert anyway.”

“Right,” Skylark said, eyeing their weapons again, though he didn’t look afraid. If anything, he looked relaxed, almost like he was weighing the pros and cons but wasn’t bothered by them. “In that case, I’m no dill. You’ve got yourselves a ship, mates.” He reached out and flicked a latch, part of the gunwale folding inward to give them ingress. “Welcome aboard,” he said, sweeping his hat from his head and giving them a grin that glinted with several silver teeth. “There’s no offsiders aboard, it’s just me, so no need to worry about finding anyone else. This isn’t the first time I’ve chartered some bushrangers.”

“We’re not outlaws,” Blade said as she climbed aboard. “I’m a wandering claw.”

“Oh,” Skylark said, his face falling a bit. “Crikey. I wish you’d led with that. Your type tends to be more trouble. Don’t worry,” he said as she glared at him. “A deal’s a deal. I’m no crook. The old sheila’s all topped off and ready to go. As soon as I let the wharfies know—”

“No,” Blade said, shaking her head. “We need to move now. Fire up the engines.”

Skylark’s eyes widened but he nodded. “Right then,” he said. “Can you lot handle the lines?”

“Just fine,” Frost said.

“Well, right then,” Skylark said, turning for the door. “I’ll just fire her up then. As soon as you see the props start to spin, push us off!”

Blade followed him into the cabin. It wasn’t much, mostly just a galley combined with the bridge. “How long will it take?” she asked as he adjusted something underneath the ship’s wheel.

“About two, three minutes,” he said. “I always keep her near ready, just in case I feel like making a trip.” She nodded. They’d picked a good getaway vehicle.

“So,” Skylark said, tapping a few gauges by the wheel as they began to twitch. “What’s the rush?”

“Simple,” Blade said. “We’re chasing someone, and being chased by someone else.”

“Who’s doing the chasing then?” Skylark asked. “Should I be worried?”

“Not as long as you can outrun some guard airships,” she said. Skylark froze, his entire body locking up. “You won’t have to worry about it right now,” she said. “And I doubt they’re going to send more than a corvette or a general alert after us, and it’s going to take them a day or so to piece everything together, so you’ve got a good head start if they do.”

Skylark started moving again. “And who are you chasing after, then?”

“An immortal,” Blade said. Skylark froze again. “And when we catch him, we’re going to kill him.”

“I’m going to regret not letting you just steal my ship, aren’t I?” Skylark asked, glancing back at her.

“Oh, I don’t know,” she said. “You can always jump overboard later. Or have the world’s best story to tell for drinks later.”

“I must be cracking a fruity,” Skylark said as he reached down and pulled back on a lever. Behind the airship, the propellers began to spin, slowly at first, but then faster and faster. On the back deck Blade could see Frost undoing the lines, and a moment later the Free Skies began to drift away from the dock.

“But Tartarus,” Skylark said, shooting her a grin. “It’s not every day a pretty warrior-sheila like yourself shows up and says they want your help catching a demigod. Life’s short.” The airship began to pull away from the dock, and Skylark nodded at the table. “There’s maps in that overhead bin. Get ‘em out and tell me where we’re going.”

Blade smiled. They were on their way.

Hold on Alchemy, she thought as she pulled out the charts. We’re coming for you.

The airship picked up speed, roaring off through the night.

Count of Laws Broken: 19
Total Laws Broken: 111
Damage Value (In Bits): 146
Total Damage Value (In Bits): 391,087

Chapter 31 - Necropolis

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??? - Unknown

“—try to follow—”

…

“—another—”

…

“—the flow of energy—”

…

“—internal systems are completely—”

…

Where am I?

Consciousness returned slowly, bringing with it a foggy, cloudy sensation, like something had stuffed the inside of his head with cotton and then blown it up like a balloon. He couldn’t feel his limbs, couldn’t see anything, but it was hard to focus on one of those sensations, or even on the lack of them.

What’s going on?

He tried to shift his weight, to make his body move, but he couldn’t feel it. He wasn’t sure if it was because he no longer had one … or if his mind was just so foggy he no longer could feel it. All he was certain of was that he was aware. Past that … nothing.

No. That was wrong. He knew more than that. He had a name. He forced his mind to focus, pushing the fog back and feeling almost a sort of strain as he did so. Good. He could feel something.

And he could remember who he was. His name was Alchemy. He was an earth pony. More memories came flooding back now, bringing with them a distant, distorted sound that echoed around his mind like the groan of ice.

Ice. The Ocean of Endless Ice. More memories came back, all at once, storming through his mind and overwhelming his senses. Teardrop Eyrie. Cragtooth Heights. The Pinnacle. The Vault.

The Order of the Red Horn. Anubis. The chase that led them to Sheerwater. And then …

You got captured, he thought, a slow, spike of pain sliding through his head as he thought back on it. They ambushed you, stormed the house, and took you. The strange, echoing sound came once again, almost deafening in volume, and he wanted press his hooves down around his ears.

But he couldn’t. He wasn’t even sure he had hooves. He couldn’t feel his limbs, couldn’t feel his body. It was like he was a consciousness, floating somewhere inside his own mind.

The dull rumble came again, rising and falling, and then he felt something new. Something that hurt. A slicing, burning sensation that was … Along his rear leg! He could feel the pain clearly now! Someone had cut his rear leg! It was still there!

Focus on that pain, he thought, “pushing” his mind towards the pain. Find the source, and find the—ow!

The pain blossomed, spreading through his body, a mix of sharp, intense pains and duller, throbbing injuries. He didn’t care. At least he could feel again.

You’ve been unconscious, part of him observed. This kind of symptom is synonymous with long periods of forced lack of awareness near brain death, usually artificially induced.

In other words, he’d been drugged. And by something that wasn’t a potion, otherwise there would have been bigger problems. But whatever they had used had almost killed him. Unless …

Potion, he thought. Lack of potion. He could feel the faint swell of power in his chest, more than he could recall feeling when he’d finally been taken down.

Someone’s fed me potion, he thought as the long, garbled droning sound around him began to clear, the noises sliding together and forming sounds he recognized. A faint droning that could only be from airship propellers. Sharp, staccato sounds that were tools being moved about. And then … he moved his head, trying to get his ears into a better position.

His head wouldn’t move. He tried again, but he could feel something pressing back, keeping his head from shifting by even the tiniest amount. Two somethings, actually. One across his forehead, and the other just under his chin.

What?

A new noise filled his ears, low but still faintly recognizable as speech. As he strained to hear it, the sound began to speed up, coalescing into something he could understand.

“—movement. Is he awake?”

“I don’t know,” another voice said. “Check his eyes.”

Something tugged at his face, and his world went white as someone pried one of his eyelids open. He tried to jerk, to twist his head away as the unexpected brightness bored into his mind, and then whoever was holding his eyes open let go, darkness mercifully returning to him once more.

“He’s awake, doctor,” the first voice said. “He’s reacting to external stimuli. I cannot say for certain whether or not he is aware.”

“Fascinating,” the second voice said. “His body is actively adapting to resist the influence of the sedative and the sleep spell at the same time. Observe. Do you not see the way his inner magic is distributing itself?”

That explains why I took so long to wake up, Alchemy thought. Sedative and a sleep spell, plus a lack of potion. No wonder I—

He paused. Unfamiliar voices. Restraining straps.

No.

No no no!

He flexed his muscles, pushing upwards, but he couldn’t even feel the barest give in his bonds. He was lying on his back, he could feel that now. On his back on a cool metal table, both sets of legs in awkward angles that probably would have hurt more if his body hadn’t been so flexible. But he was bound. Completely and totally.

“Ah, see the muscles contracting?” the second voice said. “Too rhythmic to be a seizure. He’s truly coming to.”

More than you know, Alchemy thought, probing at his teeth with his tongue. His mouth felt dry, like he’d been sucking on salt and passed out with a piece still in his mouth, leaving his lips sticky and rough. His throat felt raw and cracked, like someone had rubbed it with a rasp.

“Don’t hesitate,” the voice continued. “We only have so much time with our subject, and we must learn as much as possible.”

“Yes, doctor. Resuming the cuts.”

Then again, maybe letting them know he was awake was a good idea.

“—”

Nothing. His throat was too dry, too sore. He sucked at his cheeks, procuring a tiny bit of spittle, and swallowed, the sides of his throat sticking to one another.

“Hey.” His voice was quiet. Barely audible over the drone of the engines to his own ears. He tried again.

“Hey.”

Something clattered, and a searing pain erupted along one leg.

“No,” the second voice said. “Deeper. I want to see the muscle.” Alchemy felt something twist, burrowing its way into the meat of his leg and then slicing down towards his knee. Even through the still-persisting fog of his mind, the pain felt like a hot brand burning through his flesh.

He swallowed again, his breath coming in quicker gasps as the blade pulled away from his body. “Ow!”

“Aha!” the second voice said. “So you are awake!”

“Yes,” he said, wincing. The pain in his throat wasn’t nearly as bad, but he could feel blood pouring out of the cut in his leg, the alternating dull-and-sharp throb that told him that he’d been cut deep into the muscle. Part of him wanted to scream, but he gritted his teeth, forcing the shout to roll back down his throat.

“Well, we kept you under as long as we could,” the second voice said. “Not as a courtesy, mind you, though that would have been a kind consideration considering your status as a member of the lower race. But mostly because I wanted to see how long it would take this marvelous mistake of yours to counteract our efforts.”

“Mistake?” He could feel the power in his chest flowing down into his leg now, heat erupting from his wound as it began to pull itself shut. The bleeding had already stopped, but he could tell that finishing the healing process was going to take more than the scarce amount of potion he had in him.

“Your potion,” the second voice continued. “It, and the magical framework that make up your body are clearly a mistake. A gift like this is wasted on you. In our hooves, however—”

“No!” Alchemy jerked, the table shuddering underneath him as he pushed all of his muscles as far as they could go.

“Amazing,” the first voice said. “Look at how his body’s internal magic redistributes.” The voice was cold, clinical.

Completely uncaring.

I want to see them, Alchemy thought as he let his body go limp, his head throbbing. I want to look them in the eyes. He was out of potion now.

“Incredible,” second voice said, a touch of excitement to it. “Look how his field reacts when the outside element has been exhausted. My dear boy,” he said, the voice moving closer to Alchemy’s face. “Your body seems determined to consume itself.” The tone in the voice made the words “dear” and “boy” seem like insults. Mockery.

“Well, we can’t have you dying yet,” the voice said. “Fine Edge? Pass me that eyedropper. Let’s give him twenty-five cubic centimeters this time. I want to see how his body reacts.

“What—” Alchemy stopped speaking as something squirted into his mouth, a familiar flavor that he swallowed almost on instinct, before it could travel down the wrong path. He felt his entire body seize, muscles contracting and relaxing as his potion hit his stomach, and then the sense of power returned once more, his leg heating as the healing accelerated.

“Fascinating,” the voice said. “It’s like throwing a combustive on an open flame. Your system reacts almost instantly.”

“Excuse—Excuse me if I don’t sound too enthused,” Alchemy said, cracking his eyes slightly and squinting as the bright light did its best to blind him. There were two figures standing over him, both too shadowy against the light for him to make out any details. “Where am I?”

“On board the Superiority, of course,” one of the figures said, his image slowly resolving until Alchemy was looking at a grey-coated unicorn with green eyes and three red bands around his horn. An Order mage. The figure across from him resolved into another unicorn stallion, this one younger, with a blue coat and a red band at the base of his horn.

Tartarus. The last sense of hope he’d been holding onto faded. “Cultists.”

The grey unicorn smiled, though there was a cold apathy in his eyes that belied the expression. “Cultist is such an ungainly word. It hardly describes the magnitude of what we aim to achieve.”

“I remember you,” Alchemy said. “From the house.”

“Ah yes,” the unicorn said, still smiling, and as Alchemy’s vision finally returned to normal he could see how cold the smile was. It was calculating. Clinical. “I requested to be in on that little operation for you and you alone, my prize.”

“I am not a prize,” Alchemy said. “I’m a pony.”

“No,” the unicorn said, casually lowering the scalpel to Alchemy’s chest and tracing a thin, red line that closed up almost as quickly as it had been made. “What you are is someone who doesn’t understand. But that’s fine, because we’re here to understand for you.”

“I understand perfectly,” Alchemy said, his muscles tightening. “You’re the one who made that behemoth.”

“I did indeed,” the unicorn said with a smile. “You may call me Doctor Cell.”

“You call yourself a doctor?” Alchemy asked, revulsion swelling inside him. “You’re sick. You torture ponies, break them, turn them into … into sick—”

“I do what is necessary for the good of the species,” Cell said, his expression unchanged by Alchemy’s words. “I serve a glorious cause: The furtherment of all ponykind.”

“You’re a monster.”

“And you’re a child,” Cell responded, turning away. “You stumbled upon something wonderful, and what did you do with it? You hid it.”

“It’s not reproducible. And it’s killing me.”

“Anything that can be done once can be done twice,” Cell said, turning around once more. “And by studying you, we’ll learn how. You hid yourself from us for so long on the Ocean, concealing your abilities. Imagine what would have happened had you simply done the right thing and brought yourself to us immediately.”

“You’re the last pony who should have access to this,” Alchemy said, clenching his teeth so hard he could feel his own potion reinforcing his jaw.

“No, I’m the first one who should,” Cell replied as he turned, a clipboard held in his magic. The scalpel sliced down again, Alchemy clenching his jaw as the blade cut through layers of flesh and muscle. “The knowledge to be gained from what you’ve stumbled upon here is incalculable, and like a petulant child you kept it from everyone else. Watch this closely, Edge,” Cell added as he twisted the scalpel, cutting deep into something inside Alchemy’s chest. “I want multiple observations on how the flesh knits itself back together.”

“It’s killing me,” Alchemy said, pushing the words out past the pain he was feeling. “Every time I take a dose, my life gets shorter. Every time I don’t take a dose—”

“You suffer and slip towards a coma,” Cell said, his voice so nonchalant he could have been discussing his laundry. “We know. We’ve already studied that occurrence on multiple occasions. You see, unlike you and your childish behaviors, I am a doctor. I learn the limits of what is possible, and use my talents to better the race as a whole.”

“You’re a sick plot who experiments on others rather than helping them,” Alchemy said as he felt his chest began to heal up. “You’re less of a doctor than I am.”

“No, unfortunately if that were true, you would be championing my work and have done it yourself, long before it came to this,” Cell said, lifting the scalpel once more. “You would have accepted your place as an earth pony and realized that your call as a doctor was to help everyone, not just your own selfish kind. Instead, you withheld your great discovery, until we were forced to step in and show you the error of your ways.”

“You’re insane.”

“Coming from an earth pony such as you, your words lack merit,” Cell said, looking up at his assistant. “And now, we will continue to see what the limits of your power are—your capacity to heal, your capacity for pain. We might even see if you can reattach a limb. We have a very large amount of your potion with which to experiment, and based on the way even ten cubic centimeters react with your body, it will take us quite some time to reach a large amount, and we’re still going to have plenty left over.”

“Too much will kill me,” Alchemy said, trying not to focus on the pain in his chest. “There. Saved you that.”

Cell smiled again. “Oh, but we already knew that. But, as you should know as you claim to be a doctor, you can learn a lot from how something dies.”

He turned away, and Alchemy clenched his teeth. Don’t show them your fear, he thought. Stay strong. The rest of the team will come for you. Just hold on and stay strong. Cell turned back, a long, thin, pointed metal instrument in his magic.

“As somepony who claims to be a doctor,” Cell said, looking down at him. “What do you say to this? With Edge and I both doing detailed scans, we’re going to puncture one of your lungs and see what your modified internal magic stream does.”

“This isn’t medicine,” Alchemy said as he felt the cold, sharp tip of the instrument touch his chest, probing for a space between his ribs. “This is torture. And you’re one sick, demented individual who should never be known as a doctor.”

“Charming,” Cell said, looking over at his assistant. “Ready, edge?” Alchemy bit back a scream as the probe stabbed down into his chest.

Keep holding on, he told himself as he felt something inside his chest give way, his body fighting to cough. Fight through the pain, focus on something else. The team will come. They’re not going to leave you behind.

They won’t leave you, he thought, closing his eyes as he coughed something warm and sticky free from his mouth, his lungs sucking in oxygen as his system fought to heal itself. You won’t die here.

Right?

* * *

Pitiful, Sagis thought as he looked out over the members of the dig site, clustered together in small groups under the watchful eyes of his followers and a few of Anubis’s skeletal servants. Absolutely pitiful.

The night was clear, with a steady breeze that kept the desert’s temperature much more comfortable than it would have ordinarily been. It was still warm compared to the Ocean, but it wasn’t the sweltering, uncomfortable heat that it would have faced had they attempted to seize the dig during the day rather than under the light of the moon. Not that the result would have been any different. The dig had been staffed by students and academics, not warriors. Even the unicorns had been pathetic in their resistance, more concerned for their research or—even more shamefully—concerned with the lives of the lesser beings they consorted with.

Disgusting, Sagis thought, turning his attention away from the dig members and back towards the Superiority. The airship had been parked on the edge of the valley, well away from the dig site as Anubis had requested. There was a steady line of unicorns making their way back and forth from the camp to the ship, most of them carrying food and supplies down to the edge as the immortal had requested.

I suppose I should go inform him that we’ve seized the camp, Sagis thought, scowling at the thought of presenting himself before the jackal once more. And that we’re almost ready to move out. To where, he wasn’t sure. Anubis had been very quiet concerning what he planned to do after they arrived at his Necropolis. Holding a city in the middle of the desert seemed like a fool’s errand.

Not that it will matter much longer, Sagis thought as he took one last look at the cowed groups of archaeologists and then turned to begin the trek back to the airship. Whatever his plans are, I doubt that I or any of the order have much of a future in them. Anubis had been very cautious about disclosing his plans after reclaiming his city, but it hadn’t escaped Sagis’s notice that he’d also been very quiet about the ultimate fate of the Order.

Regardless of whether or not it was more posturing, or more toying with him, he no longer cared. Because of Anubis, they’d missed the return of the Crystal Empire. They’d sweated away in the Griffon city of Sheerwater while Equestria, with its deplorable princesses, had secured the city that was King Sombra’s birthright. Of the King himself, there had been no mention in the newspapers.

And Anubis, the arrogant immortal that he was, had laughed when he’d seen the papers. Mocked them and their trials. Humiliated Sagis in front of his entire crew before turning on that blasted fear-field of his once more and reminding them that they were no longer followers of the unicorn king.

So you think, Anubis, Sagis had reminded himself. So you think. And the time for making that thought publically known would be soon.

He still wasn’t quite sure exactly what that would entail. Part of him had entertained fantasies of slaying the immortal, of descending upon him with righteous fury and showing the jackal that even immortals were beneath a unicorn of his stature … But he’d dismissed them for what they were: Fantasies. He couldn’t be sure that the direct approach, glorious as it held the possibility of being, would work. All it would take was a slight twitch of Anubis’s staff, and his own magic would fade in the face of complete fear.

No, they needed to be subtle. Or better yet, cautious.

We strike when our opponent shows his weakness, and we show our power, he thought as he neared the airship. And not all strikes need to be direct. Anubis had spoken of that. In fact, a strike needed not be a strike at all.

If we were to vanish? Sagis thought as he made his way up the wooden gangplank. What would happen then? If we all just boarded the Superiority and left, returned to our proper place?

What would Anubis do then?

It would take some proper planning to pull off. They would need to keep the airship, that much was certain. They couldn’t abandon it. Sagis stopped at the top the gangplank, motioning to a few nearby unicorns who were in the process of transporting more supplies.

“Leave at least a week’s worth of supplies aboard the ship,” he said, his voice low. “Anubis’s orders. Just in case.”

The unicorns nodded and went back to work. Branding the order as the immortal’s own had been a nice touch, and he congratulated himself on the sly bit of deception. There were those among the crew, he knew, that had lost faith in the vision of the Order, especially after Anubis had so firmly taken over. Marking his words and plans as the jackal’s own would ensure that they were carried out, even by those who had begun to doubt in his vision and fallen under the sway of the immortal.

He crossed the deck and stepped into the vessel proper, nodding as several members of the order bowed at his passing. They were those who still remembered the station he held and respected it.

He neared the entrance to what had once been his quarters, refusing to flinch as the clicking of bone met his ears. Two of Anubis’s guards—the skeletal griffons he’d procured in Sheerwater—crossed their wings, blocking his admission to the doorway as they looked at him with empty sockets.

“I’m here to speak with Lord Anubis,” he said, glaring at the pair and fighting back the urge to summon a spell and wipe them both from existence. They were eerie, these skeletal creations. Silent, speechless, and—more unnervingly—completely loyal to their master.

We’ll have to have a contingency plan for them when we make our move, Sagis thought as the two skeletons looked at one another, unspoken messages possibly passing between them. And we’ll need to find out what their limits are. Whether or not they’re intelligent or just cunningly instructed, we can’t have one of them surprising us.

The skeletons stepped back, wing-bones clicking against one another as they folded them against their sides once more. For a moment Sagis almost nodded, but then he caught himself and settled for scowling at the sentinels. If they even acknowledged his actions, they gave no sign.

“Ah, Sagis,” Anubis said, looking up at Sagis as he stepped into what had once been his quarters, and soon would be again. “How goes the landing?”

“The dig site is secure and the archaeologists have all been accounted for,” Sagis said, giving the immortal a faint nod but nothing more. “They had already located the city. By the time you arrive, they will have uncovered the front door.”

“Perfect.” The immortal smiled and then turned his attention back towards the top of the room’s desk, where the two pieces of the broken key rested on the wood. “And the supplies?”

“Being unloaded as you ordered,” Sagis said, nodding. Except for a week’s worth, he added mentally. “However, since we are to be claiming a city …” Anubis looked up at him, his dark eyes narrowing. “Perhaps there would be space there for the Superiority to be berthed? I would prefer not to lose such a fine airship.”

“Well,” Anubis said, rising to his full height and looking around the room. “It is a pretty nice bit of portable extravagance.”

“Indeed,” Sagis said, ignoring the bard. “And one ill-suited to being left out in the desert once your city is uncovered.”

“Strictly speaking, it’s not a city,” Anubis said, returning his attention the two pieces on the desk. “But yeah, sure, there’s a couple of storage spaces the ship would fit in. Planning ahead, you know?”

Sagis frowned. He actually wasn’t sure what the immortal was talking about, not from his tone.

“Anyway,” Anubis said, adjusting the facing of the two pieces and then looking back up. “You might as well. Leave a small crew aboard and tell them to board as soon as they see a space for it.”

“Board?”

The immortal grinned. “Like I said, Sagis, Necropolis isn’t a city. Well, it is, and it isn’t. You’ll see soon enough. Speaking of which …” He slammed both of the crystal pieces into one another, a loud crack filling the room as they let out a blue flash. When the light faded, Anubis was holding a partial key, almost identical to the one that had opened the vault, but with a third piece missing. “Let’s go open it up.”

“But …” Sagis closed his eyes for a moment, pushing away his surprise at the way the two pieces had fit together. Strange, ancient magic. “Anubis, the key is still incomplete.”

“Leave that to me,” the immortal said, releasing the partial key from his hands. It floated through the air, coming to rest behind one of the demigod’s shoulders. Behind it the original key floated up into the air, bobbing behind Anubis’s other shoulder. “And focus on your part to play. Like taking me to these archaeologists.”

“As you request,” Sagis said, nodding once more and turning for the door. He managed to make it out of the room before Anubis could pass him, but once they reached the deck, the immortal’s long strides carried him past him, and Sagis was forced to fall back to a place behind the jackal, mixing with his skeleton escort as they made their way down the gangplank.

“Wow,” Anubis remarked as Sagis caught up with him, leaving the clicking of the skeletons behind. “I was kind of hoping that they would have uncovered a bit more of it than this.”

“Yes,” Sagis said, trying not to let his displeasure show on his face. “There is quite a bit of it to uncover before it will be useful.” And I can guess who is going to do the uncovering, he thought.

“Not as long as we have the door,” Anubis said as they neared the small collection of tents that made up the camp. “If we can enter the city, nothing else matters.”

You say that now, Sagis thought, but I imagine that will change once you realize that your precious plan is out of date by almost two-thousand years. Not that there had been much sense building a city in the middle of the desert in the first place.

All the more reason to make our move as quickly as possible and abandon your cause, he thought as they entered into the camp. He could hear shouting coming from up ahead—probably one of the archaeologists causing trouble. I don’t want to be here when the Griffon Armada decides that you’re a fly that needs to be swatted. Or the Plainslands decide that you’re a threat worthy of mobilizing for. You have power, capabilities, Anubis. But you’re a being from another time. A solitary city is nothing more than a target.

But he had to know that, didn’t he? Anubis wasn’t a fool. Which didn’t explain their current course of action, nor the immortal’s good mood, unless there was something that none of them knew.

“—in your place!” someone was shouting as they rounded the last clump of tents to reach the place where the dig teams had been gathered. A trio of unicorns were holding two individuals—a tan griffon and a similarly colored earth pony—to the ground with their magic. Two of the unicorns were pummeling the pair with telekinetic blows, while the third seemed to be using his magic to do his best to grind the pair’s faces into the sand. “You lessors will speak when we tell you—”

“What is going on here?” Anubis asked, his voice booming across the encampment. Gasps rose from the clusters of students as they appeared to notice the towering immortal, jaws dropping in shock. The three unicorns that had been engaged in the beating froze, their magic holding the two captives motionless as they turned to face the jackal-lord.

“They were speaking back,” one of the unicorns said, releasing the pair from his magic. The earth pony lifted his head slightly, his eyes widening as they flitted over the jackal standing before him and his attendant skeletons. “They needed to be taught a lesson.”

Anubis scoffed. “Right, and I’m sure that wasn’t completely unjustified, them speaking back.” The earth pony had reached the side of the griffon now, and was helping her up, to stand on shaky legs. The earth pony whispered something, and her eyes flickered up, going wide as they fixed on the one who had saved them.

“I mean, really,” Anubis continued, his attention still on the trio. “What possible reason could you have for beating someone just because they spoke back?”

“My lord,” the unicorn said, an uncertain look on his face. “They’re inferiors. What right did they have to question us?”

“What right?” Anubis asked, his eyes widening slightly, as if he couldn’t believe the pony’s answer. “You want to know what right?”

He lunged forward, his foot lashing out and catching the unicorn right in the gut. “What right!?” he shouted as the unicorn tumbled back in the dust. “You’re speaking to me about ‘inferior species,’ you little mortal? By that logic, I should be able to beat you all day!” He turned to the other two. “One of you has a better answer, I hope? Otherwise I’m going to have to let my opinion of your little organization drop a little once more. I told you to gather the archaeologists, not beat them.”

“But …” the next unicorn swallowed. “They resisted.”

“Yes,” Anubis sneered. “By talking back.” He shook his head. “Pathetic.”

“My lord,” Sagis said, stepping forward. “What does it matter if we’re only going to kill them—”

His head jerked down until he could almost taste the sand, bony talons wrapped tightly around his horn as Anubis’s escort grabbed him. He could hear cries of panic coming from the dig team, either at the movement of the skeletons or his own announcement. “My lord—!”

“Excuse me,” Anubis said, his cold voice cutting him off. “But who said we were going to kill them?”

“I—my lord, why would you not?” Sagis said. “After all, they serve no useful—ah ah!” The cold bone around his horn tightened to the point of pain.

“Why would I—? Wow. Sagis, you really are an idiot.” Sagis tried to look up as the immortal paused, only to have his head shoved even closer to the dirt. “Tell me, Sagis,” Anubis said. “Do you know what the difference is between a massacre with no survivors and a battle where you let the other side retreat?”

“I—”

“Of course you don’t, or we wouldn’t be having this conversation. Witnesses, Sagis. It’s why I’m letting all of these archaeologists go. So they can go back to their homes, back to their little universities, back to their families and tell them all about me, after that knowledge will do them no good. You see what I’m doing here? Putting the pieces together yet?” The bony talons jerked Sagis’s head up, twisting his neck so he could look up at the immortal. “Figuring it out?”

“Yes,” he said, biting back the sharp retort he wanted to spit out instead. “I see.” I see that you and I Anubis, need to part ways as soon as possible.

“Good,” Anubis said. The bony talons released him, skeletons clicking as they resumed their watchful places. “Now,” he said, turning to face the crowd of archeologists. “I need—”

“Lord Anubis!” The immortal paused as the shout echoed through the camp, rapid hoofsteps echoing behind it. “Lord Anubis!” One of the chosen, one who had been stationed on the ship, galloped around the tents, her chest heaving.

“What?” Anubis asked, turning to face the new arrival.

“Airship!” the chosen replied, gasping and shaking her head. “We don’t know who, but approaching fast!”

“How long until it arrives?”

“Maybe eight, ten minutes,” the chosen said, pawing at the ground with one hoof. “Maybe sooner.”

The immortal nodded. “Very well. Tell everyone to move for the entrance of the city now. There’s no time left to dawdle. And you,” he said, turning to the terrified archeologists. “If I were you I’d gather what you can from your camp and run. Except for you,” he said, pointing at a lone diamond dog in the back. “I want to speak with you. Then you can join the rest of your little group. The rest of you,” he shouted, waving his hands at Sagis and the unicorns standing around the camp. “Follow me. We’re short on time.”

Good, Sagis thought as the orders began to relay up the side of the valley. Anubis began to walk towards the dig site, a nervous looking grey diamond dog sharing a whispered conversation at the immortal’s side. Doing things in a rush means more chances for us to make our move. He wasn’t sure how many of the Order would truly join him when the time for that move came, but it would be enough to operate the Superiority.

He had a good idea of who was in the approaching airship as well. The Betrayer, and her newfound group of friends.

Well, minus her older brother. And the earth pony currently in one of the cabins aboard the Superiority. Though perhaps he wasn’t there anymore. The doctor had been making preparations to move the prisoner into the city last he’d looked. Something about wanting more space.

Pity, he thought as he followed Anubis across the desert. We likely won’t have time to relocate him a second time if we do decide to make a break for it. The doctor will be forced to kill him. It was an acceptable plan. After all, the prisoner was only an earth pony, and once the doctor had enough information on the potion, they wouldn’t need the subject any longer.

They were nearing the end of the valley now, the ground ahead of them shifting into a steep climb towards the rest of the surrounding terrain. A combination of metal and cloth had been set up over the sand, covering a portion of the valley that had been cleared away. Anubis slowed, nodding to the diamond dog, who turned and began loping back towards the camp without another word.

“Finally,” Anubis said, snapping his fingers as he stopped. Three of his skeleton escorts stepped forward, wrapping their talons around the coverings and tugging them away from the entrance. Sagis felt a small shiver run down his spine as two more skeletons stepped past him, assisting their fellows. He hadn’t even noticed the rest of them show up.

The covering was torn back, thrown aside to reveal a steeply sloped stone wall with a triangular hollow set in it. Anubis stepped forward, silent as the completed key, the one that had unleashed him from his long wait, floated into his waiting hand.

“Still locked and everything,” Anubis said, pressing the key into the hollow on the door. The crystal flashed, a dark blue aura rippling out from deep within it, and then it floated away from the stone as a low click echoed through the night air.

“They did good work,” Anubis said as the sand beneath them began to shake. A low grinding sound filled the air, and Sagis watched as the hollow impression on the surface of the stone began to slide downwards.

No, he realized as he looked up, spotting a dark, growing line on the top of the door. It wasn’t the impression that was sliding downwards. It was the door. The whole thing was sliding down into the rest of the structure, the ground shaking as mechanisms uncountably ancient moved for the first time in centuries.

“Yes,” Anubis said as the door ground to a halt, a final clunk echoing across the sands. The immortal took a few steps forward into the dark void. “And now … let’s see if they did everything else right.”

The moment the immortal’s foot stepped across the threshold, passing into the darkness, a faint hum sprang up, filling the air. Anubis paused, an expectant look on his face, and then before Sagis’s eyes, the darkened interior of the Necropolis came to life, a green glow rising from somewhere underfoot and casting its light across the entryway, revealing everything that had been shrouded a moment earlier. The raised, stone walkway that extended deeper into the structure. The high, stone ceiling, lit from below. And piled along both walls, in recesses that seemed to have been placed there for that purpose ...

Bones. Thousands of them. Sagis’s eyes widened in surprise as he ran his eyes down the entryway, following the rows of ancient bone as they worked their way back into what looked like a massive atrium, with stairways and paths leading to other parts of the structure.

But every inch of it was filled with bones. Thousands. Millions maybe. Piled loosely along the sides of the walls, row after row of glowing green under the Necropolis’s light.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Anubis said, stepping inside. “You know, I thought it was funny. That Stoneweather guy we talked to? All that stuff about lost cities, all those legends and everything, and no one ever bothered to ask themselves where the griffons who’d built the city went. They just assumed they were gone. The city was the important thing.”

“They never left,” Sagis said, eyeing the entryway. “You killed them.”

“What? No,” Anubis said, shaking his head. “I told them to kill themselves. Big difference. They finished the city, sealed themselves inside and …” He spread his hands, gesturing at the remains. “Now they get to serve me again.”

Thankfully, not all at once, Sagis thought as he eyed the bone piles. He’d seen how much energy Anubis had expended raising the skeletal guardians he currently had. It’ll take you weeks, months maybe to animate all of these.

“Come,” the immortal said, waving Sagis forward. “We don’t have long. Get the rest of your cult in here and let’s finish the activation.”

“Yes, at once,” Sagis said, turning and waving at the rest of the cult making their way towards the city, motioning for them to hurry. He couldn’t hear the oncoming airship, but he knew it had to be getting close. Then he frowned as something the immortal had said caught up with him. “Wait, activation?”

“Yep,” Anubis said as Sagis followed him into the structure. The air was cool and musty, like an old book that had been left out for its pages to dry. “Activation. I told you this wasn’t a city.”

The hallway widened into the atrium that Sagis had glimpsed, only it was larger than he’d expected. Sweeping hallways broke off in every direction, some at higher levels and some that he could look down on. A massive staircase filled the far wall, a grand, imposing thing flanked by two extended platforms that looked almost as useful as defensive locations as they did as imposing architecture. Anubis didn’t slow, kicking stray bones out of his path as he moved straight for the steps, his skeletal attendants behind him.

“Where are we going?” Sagis asked as he followed him up the stairs.

“To the control room,” Anubis said.

“The city has a control room?” Sagis glanced back down the stairs, eyeing the few cult members who were walking in and looking at the massive space with obvious surprise. To think that something so large had been buried under the sand all this time ...

“Don’t think of it as a city,” Anubis said as he reached the top of the stairs. “Think of it more as a … mobile fortress.”

“Mobile?” Sagis shook his head as they passed into another hall. “But it’s a city. How could it be mobile? That would take—”

“A lot of power?” Anubis said. “You’re correct. It would. But that’s one thing that Necropolis has in abundance. Tell me, Sagis, do you know what a light storm is?”

“I’ve … heard of them,” he said as they passed into another wide room. There were no bones this deep into the structure. Anubis paused for a moment, glancing around the room before continuing onward. “They’re a magic storm here that forms here in the desert, are they not?”

“They are,” Anubis said as the hallway underhoof began to slope upwards. “And as those who uncovered my city no doubt discovered, they’re very common here. Which was what I needed.” Up ahead the hallway terminated in another stone door. “A long, long time ago, Sagis,” Anubis said as he placed his hand against the stone. A green glow erupted around his palm, and the door began to part, receding into the walls as he spoke. “I had an idea. But I would need power. Power which was going to take a long, long time to gather. So I moved forward with my other plans, always keeping this one in the back of my mind until I found a use for it.” The door vanished, leaving behind a small, open, rectangular space.

“Come on, Sagis,” Anubis said, stepping into the space and motioning with one hand. “We don’t have much time.” Sagis complied, following the immortal into the space along with the skeletons. The stone jerked underhoof, a momentary pressure weighing all along his body as the floor they were standing on began to move upward.

“I spent decades doing research,” Anubis continued as they slid upward. Above them, what had looked like a distant ceiling was parting, the stone breaking apart and revealing a bright glow from above, not green like the rest of the structure’s lighting, but almost white. “Whole lifetimes worth for a mortal; studying my craft. That’s where my staff came from,” he said, spinning the metal rod in his fingers. “I learned how to mimic spells through other means. My own magic, that which lets me animate the bones of the dead? It was useful, but I needed more. Centuries passed, other plans began to fail, Celestia and Luna began stamping out the immortals that refused to follow our long-gone Creator’s vision … But through it all, I laid my pieces in place.”

“The light storms,” he said as the elevator neared the now open passage, the bright, white light overwhelming everything else. “They were a power source. All I needed was a battery, a collector, and time for enough of the storm’s natural fury to be harvested that I could use it. And, well, as you’re no doubt realizing by now …” The stone they were riding on burst into the open, coming to a jarring halt. “I’ve had all three all along.”

Sagis felt his jaw drop. The elevator had deposited them in what could only be the central nexus of the entire building, a massive, pyramidal room dominated by a raised, circular platform at its center, one with a very clear and conspicuous throne atop it. But the throne wasn’t the center of the room. That honor had been given to the massive crystal octahedron placed behind it, a gargantuan solid eight-sided piece of crystal larger than any Sagis had ever seen.

“Behold!” Anubis said, spreading his arms as he walked toward the platform. “The results of almost two-millennia of planning. A power sink, fresh and full with magic gathered from over a thousand years of light storms. Enough power to create a million light storms of its own. And best of all,” he said, a long, low laugh bubbling free of his throat. “Completely mine.”

“Can you feel it?” he asked, turning and staring at Sagis. “Well, can you? Does your horn itch? Your body tremble?”

“I … uh …” Sagis shook his head, extending his senses and probing at the colossal crystal pulsing its brilliant, white light. Nothing.

“I can’t,” he said, his voice faltering. “I can’t sense any of it.”

“I know!” Anubis shouted, almost dancing up the steps to the raised platform. “No waste, no leakage other than this light. All this stored power in the most efficient, ambitious project I ever put my mind too … and it’s all mine. All it needs,” he said turning and grasping the two keys. “Are these.”

“But … I …” Sagis’s mind was reeling. If what was being said was true, than Anubis was in possession of enough power to do … well, almost anything.

Wait. No he couldn’t. Not with a broken key.

“But … my lord,” he said, gesturing with one hoof as he stepped up to the base of the platform. Now that he was closer he could see the framework that the gigantic battery was resting on, four primary connecting points that were a mixture of stone, metal, and crystal that stretched down into the depths of the Necropolis along a massive shaft beneath it, rather than connect to the metal ring that Anubis was standing on. “One of the keys is incomplete.”

“You never listen, do you?” Anubis asked, his tone mocking as he stepped over to one side of the massive metal throne. He knelt by the side, pulling a small hatch aside and revealing a recessed space that looked almost identical to the one that the key had fit in at the vault. Anubis plucked the complete key out of the air, wrapping his hand around the crosspiece at its end, and then drove it downward, twisting it to one side with a click. The crystal lit up as he let go of it, a hum building in the air.

“It’s like I told you all the back on your ship,” the immortal said as he rose, reaching up and plucking the other, incomplete key from behind him and walking over to the other side of the throne. Sagis glanced around the room, noting that the skeletons that had come with them had taken up positions along the path from the elevator, almost like a silent honor guard. “The keys are mine, and they will come when I ask them to.”

He held out his hand, a faint, magical glow building in his palm, and Sagis felt the familiar tingle of teleportation magic as space itself folded, and with a bright flash, the final portion of the key sat in Anubis’s hand.

“Like I said, Sagis,” Anubis said, his laugh echoing across the room as he slammed the missing piece of the key into place, the crystal fusing with a loud crack. The immortal gave the completed key a gentle spin, chuckling to himself as light refracted off it. “Patience is the key to every victory. And I’ve waited long enough.”

Without a word, Anubis shoved the final key home, twisting it into place as the entire room blazed with light. Sagis took a step back as the room began to shake, a low hum swelling and mixing with the jackal-lord’s laugher.

“Sixteen-hundred years!” Anubis shouted as the room came to life, magical displays lighting up around him. “Sixteen-hundred years of patient, calm, rational planning! And now it all pays off.”

His hooves were almost on the elevator now, and Sagis risked a quick look back, searching for some kind of control or switch. He could feel the entire Necropolis shaking beneath him as the hum continued to build, rising to a dull roar that seemed to be coming from the very stones themselves.

“Power enough for an army of warriors!” Anubis shouted, though he didn’t seem to be directing the words at him. The immortal was watching with an enraptured look as the crystal began to pulse with increased speed, the rumbling underhoof picking up with each pulse. “A statement the world can’t ignore!”

Anubis spun, and Sagis froze even as his eyes spotted the small, magical arrow floating in the air above the corner of the elevator.

“Remember what I said about witnesses, Sagis?” Anubis shouted, spreading his arms. “Well, you just got a front-row seat!”

Sagis lashed out, his hoof passing through the arrow. Beneath him the elevator shuddered and then began to drop, Anubis’s laughter echoing after it.

Patience, Sagis thought. The art of knowing when to retreat and bide your plans for another time.

He needed to gather his mages. Something told him this was one of those times.

* * *

“Right,” Blade said, dropping the binoculars and passing them back to Skylark. It had been hard to make out even with the light of the moon, but the ship that was just lifting off from the distant dig was definitely the Superiority. “Keep us coming in as quickly as possible.”

“What’s the plan?” Frost asked, her horn glowing as she added another piece of icy armor to the thin slices already around her sides and chest.

“Well,” Blade said. “They’re pulling the Superiority back into the air, so we can’t count on getting close. We might have to circle wide and drop in by wing if we want to get close to that dig, while Skylark here plays tag with their air support.” Skylark swallowed, his eyes widening, though he didn’t say anything.

“And if Alchemy is on that ship?” Hain asked.

“Then we hope they come down for a nice talk after we’ve dealt with whoever is left in the camp,” she said, a small shiver rolling down her back as she said it. It was a big if, and she knew it. She took a step back towards the table, where the combat harness and armor she’d pilfered from the guard station were laid out. “With luck, their forces will be split between the dig site, the camp, and the ship, and we’ll be able to keep them that way while we whittle them down.”

“And if the airship comes for us or Anubis decides to step in?” Frost asked.

“The former, we hope we can find cover, or we take it down,” Blade said. “The latter … chug your potion and pray Alchemy was right about it working.” She took a deep breath, letting it out slowly as she adjusted her harness. She’d found the four potions Alchemy had apparently finished in her bag, though none of them had dared test them, since there was a limited supply. She was still holding onto two. The other pair had been given to Frost and Hain.

“As far as civilians go,” she said, glancing at Hain to make sure he didn’t object to any step of her plan. “Any that we find we’ll send to a safe spot, hopefully where the airship can’t see them. So a tent or something. Skylark?”

“Yes, Ma’am?”

“If you see an opening, or that big airship isn’t bothering you, I want you to pick up as many civilians as you—”

“Holy-dooly!” Skylark’s shout ripped through the inside of the airship, and Blade felt every muscle in her body tense.

“What is it!?” she asked, jumping up towards the front glass and searching the sky. “Airships? Incoming?”

“That,” Skylark said, pointing a single claw at the distant camp, and Blade felt her beak drop open.

An entire section of the desert appeared to be lifting away, rising into the air as sand cascaded from its sides. It was shaking, rumbling, clouds of dirt and dust billowing away from its base as a low, droning hum echoed across the desert.

“Crikey,” Skylark said, his voice barely audible over the sound of the desert ascending into the sky. “I’ve never seen anything like that before.”

“New one for me, too,” Blade said as more sand fell free from the rising shape, exposing a sloped, stone wall. “Guys? I think that’s the Necropolis. And it flies.”

The sand had mostly fallen away now, revealing the long, slanted sides of the city. It was shaped like a squat, stepped pyramid, with each sloped side rising several stories into the air before giving way to a long, flat expanse that stretched until the next level of the structure. Smaller pyramidal shapes ringed the edges of each level, looking like armored gun emplacements stretched along a fortress wall. At the central and highest point of the structure, the final tier, along with the tip of the pyramid, was raised even higher, giving it the illusion of being a bridge or a command area of some kind.

The underside of the city wasn’t nearly as developed, though it was no less massive. Its sides were slanted inward, making the whole structure look as if two pyramids had been slapped together at the base, but the bottom half ended after only descending one level, the flat space beyond that covered with smaller, low-hanging structures that Blade couldn’t even begin to guess at the function of.

What she could see, however, was the size of the behemoth. As well as the open doors along the side of the lower level, one of which the Superiority appeared to be flying into.

“Anyone want to hazard a guess as to the size of that thing?” Frost asked.

“At least seven-hundred meters,” Hain said. “Judging from the size of the Superiority by comparison.

“Crikey,” Skylark said, his beak hanging open. “I feel like stunned mullet. Shake that, we are a stunned mullet compared to that monster.” He turned, his eyes wide. “Now what do you want me to do? We can’t be having a blue with that monster, we’ll be killed!”

“There’s still activity on the ground,” Frost said, moving back from the window. “Civilians, from the way they’re panicking.”

“Right,” Blade said, shaking her head and thinking. “Here’s what we’re going to do. Skylark? Bring us up close to that … whatever that thing is.”

“Sheila, I ain’t—”

“You’re not landing on it,” Blade said. “We’re jumping and flying in one of those lower entrances.” She picked up one of her armor plates and attached it, rapping the metal with her knuckles to make sure it was secure. “As soon as we’re off, swing back and pick up as many of those civilians as you can. Get them out of here. If we were being followed, then you be sure to let them know what’s coming. Whatever’s on that … thing …” She cinched a strap down, tightening a forearm guard into place. “It can’t be good.”

“What about you?” Skylark asked. Around them, the cabin creaked, the propeller’s pitch picking up as he put the Free Skies into a shallow dive. “I can’t just leave you.”

“Don’t worry about us,” Blade said, looking up at Hain and Frost as she cinched the last piece of armor into place. It was light enough she almost couldn’t feel it. “We’ve got a job to do.” She lifted the heavy claymore and slung it over her back as Frost and Hain both gave her slow nods.

“And we’re going to see it through.”

Count of Laws Broken: 0
Total Laws Broken: 111
Damage Value (In Bits): 0
Total Damage Value (In Bits): 391,087

Chapter 32 - Last-Ditch Gamble

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Necropolis - Above the Turuncu Desert

The deck twisted beneath her, the Free Skies lurching to the side, and Blade spread her wings, digging her claws into the hard deckwood as gear and equipment all around her went sliding by.

“Skylark!” she called as the airship leveled out once more. The horizon had shifted now, the giant floating mass of stone that was the Necropolis now sitting off of the Free Skies’ starboard side rather than in front of it. “We need to get closer to that thing! Not further away!”

“Sorry, sh—Blade!” Skylark called back, his voice echoing above the rising wind as the Free Skies trembled. “But there’s something going about beneath that monstrosity, and the further we stay away from it before it’s over, the better we’ll all be.”

“What are you talking about?” she called, stepping up to the cabin door and bracing herself against the frame. The Free Skies jerked beneath her again, shaking as a gust of wind roared over it.

“Here,” Skylark said, twisting in his seat and passing a pair of binoculars back at her. “Look at the bottom. Something’s mucking about down there, and I don’t think we’ll like it.”

Blade took the binoculars, still bracing herself against the door as she turned to look at the bottom of the Necropolis. The world leapt towards her as she lifted the glasses, the streams of sand pouring over the side of the floating stone structure swelling in her eyes, rushing towards her as they—

She paused, adjusting the focus. It wasn’t an illusion, nor her imagination. The sand was rushing towards her, billowing out and away from the bottom of the Necropolis.

Wind, she thought as the Free Skies jerked once more beneath her, rising several meters and then dropping. Wood creaked as someone yelped in surprise, and out of the corner of her eye Blade saw the telltale glow of Frost’s magic as the mare grabbed at something that had gone airborne during the sudden descent.

That’s why we’re running into so much turbulence all of the sudden, Blade thought as she brought the glasses back up once more and studied the billowing sands. But why? That can’t be the propulsion method that thing’s using, or we’d have felt it long before now. Besides, Skylark was a pilot. Winds wouldn’t have scared him off.

So then what did? she wondered, lifting the glasses again and tightening her grip on the doorframe.

She played the glasses across the underside of the stone complex, frowning as she watched the sand swirl away. It’s only swirling away from the bottom, she thought. It’s like there’s something pushing it away from—Wait. She could see something moving, something shifting along the underside of the floating city. She lowered the glasses, stepping over to the side of the airship and giving herself a better angle. Uh-oh.

The stone protrusions along the underside of the city were opening up, unfolding like strange, tropical flowers. A faint glow was emitting from each of them, and as she twisted the binoculars, bringing her view closer, she could see the ripples in the air around each one, her view of the strange glowing growths twisting as if each was surrounded by a distorted glass dome.

“Skylark!” she called, pulling the glasses away from her eyes just long enough to call back towards their pilot. Without the binoculars, the bottom of the city was still dark, though the billow of sand rushing away from the sides of the Necropolis was visible now to the naked eye. “Can you get us lower?”

“I thought you wanted to be up?” the griffon called back.

“I do!” she said, her eyes still on the swirling vortex of sand beneath the distant city. There was a pattern now, a upwards and downwards spin to the cloud as it roiled beneath the Necropolis, glittering in the moonlight. “But I also want to see what’s going on under that thing!”

Skylark didn’t reply, but she felt the telltale lift in her gut that said they were descending, and she turned her full attention back to the distant city once more as the vortex of sand beneath it grew more and more distinct.

Hain stepped up alongside her, his wings held wide for balance against the rocking of the ship. He didn’t speak, instead wrapping his talons around the gunwale and fixing his eyes on the distant Necropolis, but she could see the way his sharp gaze darted back and forth, analyzing the cylinder of roiling sand beneath the outer edges of the city.

“That’s going to be dangerous,” he said, pointing with one talon towards something on the ground. Blade lifted the binoculars, bringing the spot Hain was pointing towards into clear view. It was the dig site that they’d planned on landing in—at least before the ancient city they’d been hunting had risen from the ground and taken to the skies. It looked abandoned, though it was hard to tell even with the glasses at the distance they were at. But even then, they were close enough that she could see the tents quiver and buckle as the raging wall of sand swept over them.

So it is moving, she thought as she watched the whirlwind of sand pick at the structures. None of them gave way, though she did see a few sheets of metal jerk and tug against their restraints. Anubis has a floating city, and it can move.

But why? She lifted the glasses skyward once more, focusing her view on the still-shifting underside of the Necropolis. A sandstorm like that isn’t going to do much more than conceal anything that’s going on underneath it, and it’s not even doing a very good job of it. Besides, unless you’re bringing the sand, there isn’t much use there. She glanced at the excavation camp as the sand swirled over more of it, watching the flapping tent cloth and trying to gauge the power of the winds beneath the city.

It’s not that powerful, she thought as she shifted her attention back upwards. Maybe it’s a by-product of the city moving? Except it had probably been moving before Skylark had noticed the swirling winds, so then what was it? The underside of the city was still now, the various protrusions having finished unfolding themselves, though with the lack of light and the shifting sand it was hard to say into what. There did seem to be a faint glow deep coming from somewhere across the underside, but it was so faint she wasn’t sure if it was coming from the city, or from somewhere else.

“Blade,” Hain said from her side. She lowered the binoculars. “We’re ready.” Frost stepped onto the deck, her bow floating beside her.

“Right,” Blade said, nodding. “Whatever that thing’s doing, we’re out of time waiting on it.” She turned back towards the cabin, ducking through the low door and coming up behind Skylark.

“Take us back up,” she said, passing him the binoculars and giving the table a quick, final glance to make sure she hadn’t left anything behind. “And bring us towards the city, heading for one of those openings on the sides that the Superiority went into.”

“You sure?” Skylark asked, glancing back at her. “Whatever that thing’s about to do—”

“Whatever it is you’ll be better served by being above it than below it!” Blade said, shaking her head. “Now get us up, and get us close! With the wind like this, Hain and I are going to be working hard enough just to get inside that thing without losing the third member of our team!”

“Right,” Skylark said, though she could see on his face that he wasn’t happy about it. The nose of the Free Skies tilted upward. “Look, I know it isn’t my place and all, and if you want me to shut my gob or rack off on it, I will, but your friend Hain. He’s an exile?”

She paused in mid-turn towards the back of the cabin, her talons splayed across the side of the table. Oops. “And what if he is?”

“I … Nothing, really,” Skylark said, though the expression on his face said otherwise. “Might explain the ships coming after us, though.” For a moment Blade felt a twinge of surprise at the mention of multiples, but then she nodded.

So that did work. “Ships?” she asked, turning and stepping up near the front windows once more. “How many? What kind?”

“Big, military types,” Skylark said. “Or at least big compared to Skies, here.” He rapped the wheel with his knuckles.

“Well, relax,” Blade said, nodding. “They’re not after us because of Hain, though it might be in your best interests not to mention that part when they show up.”

“Oh?”

“They’re after us because we beat up a guard station and stole a bunch of gear,” she said, grabbing the binoculars and squinting at the distant spot Skylark had indicated. She heard a faint gulp from beside her, followed by a faintly muttered “Crikey,” so low she was fairly certain she wasn’t supposed to have heard it.

“Don’t worry about it,” she said as she scanned across the distant night sky, her eyes picking out several faint shapes, each outlined by a number of running lights.

Frigates; two of them, she thought as she squinted. And three or four corvettes. We might have stirred up more fire with Plan C than I thought.

Which hadn’t exactly been unintended. After all, Plan C stood for Charlie Foxtrot. And all that comes out of that is usually trouble … But even so. “That’s a lot of ships,” she said, dropping the glasses. Maybe they’re pinning more on us than the—The answer hit her like a flash. Of course! she thought. They probably suspect we’re behind the crypt break-ins, the death of Stoneweather, and whatever else Anubis got up to in Sheerwater.

She passed the glasses back to Skylark. Well, it looks like we’ve got that backup we needed. I don’t care what Anubis has on that floating city of his. A couple of Stal-class Frigates will pound it to rubble.

“So …” Skylark said, glancing out the windows at the no much-larger Necropolis. “Do you want me to do anything about them, then?”

“Same plan as before,” Blade said, shaking her head. “Drop us off and then get down to any survivors from that dig site. Grab as many as you can, and then run for the military. Tell them to bring that Necropolis down by any means necessary. Claim that we hijacked you, whatever you need to take the head off you, but get them to fire on that Necropolis!”

“Won’t you be on it?”

She took a deep breath. “We might,” she said, turning for the door and stepping out onto the back deck. We might. But I think we can handle that. She felt a sense of finality drift over her, a comforting blanket of familiar feelings mixed with the rush that came right before she jumped into combat. There was an undercurrent to it, a faint sense of worry that maybe Skylark was right. The military shooting at Anubis’s fortress while they were on it could be a really bad idea.

Then again, we’re about to face off against a demigod, Blade thought as she stepped up next to both Frost and Hain. The pair had their eyes fixed on the base of the Necropolis, though she noticed that intermittently each of them would take a quick glance at their surroundings. Neither wanted to be caught off-guard as the Free Skies closed in on the Necropolis.

He has to know we’re coming, Blade thought, eyeing the structure. There was a faint glow to its underside now, visible above the light offered by the moon though they could no longer see what was causing it. Are you just waiting for us to come aboard? Hoping we’ll chicken out?

It wasn’t going to happen. “We’re almost close enough,” she said, fixing her eyes on the openings on the city’s lower side. Closer to the titanic, floating construct, the wind was bucking even more than it had been minutes earlier, the Free Skies shaking underneath her feet. “We’ll aim for that large opening near the center,” she said, pointing. “That’s the target.”

“And once we’re inside?” Frost asked. There was an eager tone to her voice.

“We find Alchemy, then we find Anubis,” Blade said. “Anyone gets in our way …” Her talons tightened around the gunwale. “We break them.”

Her eyes drifted across the oncoming city, watching as more sand shifted away from its top side. Soon, she told herself, her wings shifting on her back.

We’re coming for you, Alchemy. The pale glow from beneath the Necropolis was getting brighter now, definitely coming from somewhere beneath the structure, though she couldn’t see from what or guess at why, Maybe they were running lights of some kind. Hopefully, it wouldn’t matter soon.

The Free Skies jerked beneath her, and she tightened her grip again. Soon ...

* * *

The blade flashed for a moment in the green light, wicked and cruel before darting down into his foreleg and making a long, jagged cut. Alchemy held back a scream, gritting his teeth as he felt the blade’s tip scrape against bone. His head began throbbing almost immediately as his potion-starved body strained to rejuvenate the damaged tissue.

“My word,” Cell said, his voice echoing through the small, makeshift lab he’d woken up in. “Edge, look at this! Marvelous! Simply marvelous!”

Alchemy shut his eyes, blocking out his view of the stone ceiling. He didn’t know where he was—he’d passed out after Cell and his assistant had pumped him full of almost lethal amounts of several poisons, a test he himself had never dared make, and when he’d awoken, he’d found himself no longer on the airship, but in a stone room someplace. He’d guessed that it was the Necropolis, but after he’d felt the telltale rumble of movement, he hadn’t been quite so sure anymore.

Wherever he was, the cult had spared no time in making it into a new base of operations. Cell had brought what looked like his entire lab along—even the “tools” that he’d already exposed Alchemy to.

His head was throbbing now, his body trembling, fighting back against his broken internal magic as it pulled life from every part of him to heal the wound. He opened his eyes, counting not one but two Cells, then three, and then two again as his vision began to blur.

“That’s long enough,” Cell said, his voice long and distorted. “We’re starting to lose him, and there’s still so many tests to do.” Alchemy couldn’t even fight back as something forced his mouth open, the familiar thick, cold feeling of the potion splattering against the back of his tongue. He was too desperate to even consider how much he was swallowing; his mouth snapped shut and he gulped the mixture down, power surging through his body, swelling to fill every part of him. His mind snapped to alertness, bringing with it crystal-clarity. His ears jerked to life, picking up almost every sound in the room, and his vision came into sharp focus, the colors of the room bright, almost unreal.

Still the power came. His leg sealed itself up, burning as the healing accelerated far faster than it was supposed to. His muscles began to lock up, his body shaking now not from withdrawals, but with an overabundance of energy that was burning him up from in the inside.

“Interesting.” He could hear every syllable, every tilt of inflection in Cell’s voice, the faint rasp of breath behind it. “We seem to have reached a point where we’ve given him too much.” The words seemed to echo off of the walls, a long, drawn out sound that was at once understandable but at the same time far too slow to be ordinary. He was twisting now, pressing himself upward against the straps that held him down. A scream burst forth from his mouth, a soundless yell of the need to move, to do something, anything to burn off the extra bit of power that was eating him from the inside.

“Look at this,” Cell was saying, though it was hard to focus on the unicorn’s voice. “The way the influx of the potion makes his internal rhythm adjust. It’s … moving the flow entirely.”

It’s killing me! He bucked again, trying to twist, but there was no give in whatever he’d been strapped to, his body staying right where it was. Cell was no stranger to keeping somepony where he wanted them. He screamed again as something seemed to give deep inside of him—and then the power moved, surging towards a pain in his rear leg he wasn’t even aware he’d had.

“How fascinating,” Cell said, lifting the bloody knife. “I’ve never seen anything quite like that before.” The bottle of potion floated over, hanging out of reach, and Alchemy felt a cold chill in his gut as he realized it was still more than three-quarters full. “And yet it seemed to hurt you.”

“It’ll kill me,” Alchemy said, his voice strong but feeling weak all the same as he spoke. “I’ve tried before. I almost died. You can’t give me more than a small amount or it’ll eat me up from the inside.”

“Interesting,” Cell said. “Most interesting.” The bottle floated out of view. “Well then, I have good news for you.” He bent down close, so close that Alchemy could feel the stallion’s breath on his face.

“Your death will be fascinating to watch.”

* * *

“Go!” The deck dropped away beneath her hooves as Frost jumped, and for a brief, all-too-terrifying moment she was dropping through the sky, falling towards the desert below. Then the cords attached to her harness snapped tight, her body jerking in the air as the lines became taunt. She bounced upwards once, weightlessness descending upon her for a moment before gravity found her again. She reached for her magic, a preparatory step should she or the rest of the team have lost anything. The magic came, but she could still feel the same strange itch she’d been feeling around her horn, a sensation she’d felt only a few times before. Raw magic. She pushed it away, bringing her attention back to the team.

Team. It still felt like an unfamiliar concept, but she was getting used to it.

A gust of wind struck her, jerking her to one side and sending her mane spinning around her face. She ignored it. Even if she pressed it away from her eyes, it was certain that the wind would draw it back before long, just as surely as it would take it away moments later. She needed her focus elsewhere.

“You good?” The call came from above, and she looked up, her eyes following the lines up to Blade and Hain, both of them struggling against the heavy winds as they flew through the air and carried her.

“Fine!” she shouted back. “Don’t worry about me unless I fall.” She didn’t want that last bit to happen. Not now. Not so close to her goal.

She was turning her head back down, the wind whipping at her mane and ears, when the first flash lit the night, illuminating the lines tying her to Blade and Hain. Her first thought was that someone was shooting at them, that someone had somehow gotten their hooves on a cannon or perhaps a newer type of gun, but the crack that echoed after it wasn’t the same pitch as the guns she’d heard before, nor was the rolling boom that followed it. She turned her eyes down, searching for the source of the flash. She found it just as another echoed after it.

A brilliant beam of light burst forth from the bottom of the Necropolis, its appearance so sudden it seemed to just exist; a bright beacon of pure energy that lit the sky like lightning. The crack that followed behind, rolling off the surrounding valley, told her everything she needed to know.

Necropolis was a weapon.

More flashes began to split the night, eruption after eruption of light lancing between ground and sky, coming faster and faster, the pillars themselves growing larger and larger.

“It’s a light storm!” Blade called from above, though Frost wasn’t sure what she meant by it. “A weaponized light storm!”

The excavation site was burning now, along with a good portion of the camp as bolt after brilliant bolt slammed into it. She could see the sand fusing into glass, reflecting back each flash of light as the attacks came faster and faster. The wind around them seemed to have died, killed by the sudden onslaught of energy, but as the cracks grew louder, almost deafening, she could feel the buffetings rolling off them, the sudden jerks of displaced air as it was superheated and shoved away by the incredible energies she was feeling.

That was the itch, she thought, her eyes fixed on the distant display of power. And what made the winds. It was charging. Or getting ready. Or … whatever it needed to do. Another, much louder crack filled the air, this one from the largest pillar yet.

A final blast of light filled the valley, so brilliant it felt like the sun itself had appeared beneath the Necropolis, the entire underside lighting up as countless beams filled the air. The wall of sound that swept over them wasn’t so much a noise as it was a tangible thing that slapped against her head, blurring the world and making her grit her teeth tight together.

Then it was gone, nothing but a faint buzzing in her ears to show that it had been there. She shook her head as the sound faded, the dull, rumbling echoes off of the distant desert so deep they could have been a palisade of cannon-fire. Even the itch in her horn was gone.

But beneath the Necropolis, what had been hit by the blast—the light storm, as Blade had called it—was a charred mix of glass, shining in the moonlight and still glowing with faint heat.

“Did you see that?” she called, tilting her head back but refusing to take her eyes off of the still-smoldering desert.

“Impossible not to,” Hain called back, his gruff voice overwhelming the rushing of the wind around her ears. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Neither have I,” Blade called as the glowing glass began to slip out of sight, obscured by the bulk of the oncoming city. “But now we’ve got another reason why Anubis wanted it. With the size of that blast, he could level a small city.”

“If he could get there,” Frost said. “Wouldn’t airships be able to keep him out?”

“I don’t know!” The wind tugged at them once more, picking back up now that the blast was over, but it lacked the jerking, twisting turbulence of earlier. “For all we know he can shoot that in other directions. I’m seeing a lot of structures on top that look like they could be weapon emplacements!”

“One more reason to take it down,” Hain said as they neared the Necropolis. “Even if we can’t stop Anubis, we can still break the whole operation.”

The harness jerked against Frost’s shoulder as another gust of wind slammed into them, but the shock felt weak after the display she’d just seen. She shook her head, clearing her mane from her eyes as the floating city swelled in front of them. She could see the opening they were heading for now; a vast, cavernous space lit by sickly green light. The Superiority was berthed inside, though it was using its landing skids to do so. Small figures were making their way up and down the gangplank. Horned figures.

Unicorns. And they hadn’t noticed their arrival yet. Perfect.

“Frost?”

“I see them,” she said, pulling her bow from her back with her magic and clutching it in the air in front of her. Three … four … five … six … seven. Seven cult members that she could see, and there were probably more inside the Superiority.

“Get ready,” Hain said as they rushed towards the bay. The cultists looked like children’s toys now, growing larger by the second. “The moment they see us, it’s going to get hot.”

Not if I can help it, she thought, a familiar spell leaping to mind. Beside her bow the air shimmered, a thickened shaft of ice condensing out of the air. A second followed it, and then a third, all floating alongside her and stretching the limits of her magic.

One more, she thought, focusing on a simpler, more straightforward missile for the last arrow. She was reaching the limits of her ability, juggling so many objects at once while creating more. They were only fifty feet away from the entrance to the bay now, and closing fast.

One of the unicorns looked up, her eyes going wide, and Frost fired. The cultist didn’t even have time to shout before the arrow struck, slamming into the gangplank next to her and then exploding outward in a cloud of razor-sharp ice fragments. The cultist mare fell, her face and side perforated by dozens of tiny punctures.

Frost fired the next two arrows in rapid succession. Three more cultists fell with mortal wounds as the missiles detonated, spraying the deck and gangplank of the superiority with more shards of ice.

Shouts rang through the bay, the rest of the cult finally noticing the assault. Her last arrow sprang free of her bow, burying itself in the head of a quick-thinking mage whose horn had already been lighting.

Mages, she realized as she summoned another arrow and fired again. This time it sparked off of a hastily erected shield. Almost all of them are mages! Her magic flared, summoning three arrows at once from the dry air, and she could feel the strain of her magic finding that much nearby water.

She fired again, her arrows detonating into clouds of dangerous, crystalline fragments, but her targets had already adapted their strategy, personal shields springing in front of each of them. Two of the clouds of expanding fragments splattered off of the barriers, the tiny ice shards shattering further as they collided with an unyielding wall of magic, but the third struck home, detonating past a mage’s simple barrier. The magic winked out with a scream, and she lifted her bow, readying a simpler, more traditional arrow to finish the job.

“Drop!”

The world gave way beneath her as Hain and Blade cut her free, and then she was falling towards the stone floor, her aim thrown off by the downwards motion. She hit the stone hard, pushing herself forward into a loose roll that ate up most of the impact and brought her up on all four hooves with her bow still at the ready.

A bolt of magic sizzled off the stone nearby, its virulent purple glow mixing with the green of the Necropolis as it shot past. Frost bolted, focusing on staying clear of the now incoming swarm of magic directed at her rather than lining up clear shots.

It’s all open, she thought as she ran for the closest bit of cover she could see: The rear end of the Superiority. I can’t stay out in the open or they’ll pick me apart.

A fiery beam cut across her path and she skidded to a halt, ducking as it turned towards her. It was too late. They’d seen where she was heading—or somepony had, at any rate. She ducked under the beam and then summoned another two arrows, firing straight down at the ground in front of her.

Should have fired a few of these before I landed, she thought as an icy wall grew up in front of her, a magic bolt cracking into it with a faint sizzle moments later. She took a deep breath, summoning more arrows as she took a quick look around the room.

Hain was still in the sky, ducking and juking as multiple mages sent bolt after bolt after him, but it was only a matter of time before the old griffon made a mistake or one of the mages got lucky. She could already see a burnt, charred place on his armor where an errant bolt had caught him across the chest, though he didn’t seem to be suffering any ill effects. On the other side of the bay, a scream rang out from somewhere aboard the Superiority—a sure sign that Blade was already making her own presence known.

Assist Hain, she thought, tracking the source of the bolts that were flying past him as the old griffon went into a steep dive. Help him get close.

She stepped around the side of her cover, bow at the ready, and fired off barrage of quick shots—five arrows in all, a mixture of several different types. Three of them splattered harmlessly against a spherical barrier that one of the mages had thrown up. The fourth detonated, and she saw the three mages inside the dome flinch as the shards bounced off of the barrier.

Which let the fifth arrow strike right near where the beams were coming out, a thick layer of ice spreading out in all directions across the shield’s face. There was a surprised shout from inside the dome as one of the mage’s own shots splattered against the ice several feet from his face.

It was all the opening Hain needed. The mages dropped the shield, battering aside the ice with their magic … only for the lead unicorn to let out a scream as Hain descended upon them, his knife flashing. Frost loosed another arrow, catching another member of the trio in the side, and sending him stumbling back. Hain finished the job a moment later.

The enchantment she’d wrapped around herself back on the Free Skies flared as something slammed into her shoulder, a loud crack echoing through the air by her head. The impact shoved her back, and she jerked herself into the protective cover of her ice barrier as more shots rained down on her position.

Well, it works, she thought as she looked down at the shattered, broken piece of ice covering her shoulder. The enchantment had done its job, manifesting and protecting her from the full brunt of the spell before she’d even seen it coming. Her shoulder hurt, but it was only a bruise. She summoned her magic, the spell coming easier to her this time, and the broken pauldron fell away, a faint shimmer settling over her shoulder before vanishing once more.

Something splattered against the stone floor behind her, and she turned just in time to see a second ball of fire arc down from above, over the top of her barrier, and splatter against the stone, several pieces of her armor coalescing into being as the burning mixture splattered across her side.

Move! She’d waited too long, and the mages had learned. Still, it would take them time to adapt when she—

Something large and heavy slammed into the front of her cover, the ice cracking visibly under the blow, and she ran. They’d already adapted.

A wave of magic rushed out at her as she ran for the rear of the Superiority, bolts and beams of multiple varieties streaking towards her position. Most of them fell short—her attackers clearly hadn’t expected her to move quite so quickly—and she took advantage of their distraction to fire an arrow back while getting a good look at the rest of the bay.

It was chaos. Blade was still aboard the Superiority, her talons blurring as she took on a number of mages swarming up from below its decks. Hain was on the far side of the bay, dueling with three mages and a shadow at the same time. And the mages she’d been shooting at were in the process of being reinforced by more arriving via a massive doorway at the end of the bay. The entire group was currently raining magic at her from behind a series of protective coverings, and she made a quick count. Seven—no, eight. And they were steadily advancing toward her, their attention fixated.

She dropped into a slide, firing another arrow as she slid into cover behind one of the Superiority’s landing sledges. For a moment the oncoming barrage let up, the mages hesitant to open fire on their own airship, and she glanced down at herself, eyes widening as she saw the ice plating across her sides and back. Apparently several of the spells she’d thought she’d dodged had been much closer than she’d expected. She nudged a few of the pieces free, reaching out with her magic and feeling the dryness of the air as she readied a new series of armor pieces to replace the ones she’d just lost.

Wait. She could sense something at the fringes of her magic. A massive source of water that she wouldn’t have been able to feel if not for the sheer dryness of the air around her. Her eyes widened. It was one of the Superiority’s water tanks, and it was only a few dozen feet away, right near the outside of the vessel. A perfect source, but enclosed in a holding tank.

Actually, she thought as a tentative barrage of bolts edged past the side of the sledge. That might work where it is.

A distant whine filled the air, something blue and jagged cutting through the air off to her side like a sort of slow-motion lightning bolt. Then it stopped, the oily blue surface of the magic shimmering before launching itself in her direction. She dropped just in time, the bolt cutting through the space where her head had just been and digging into the wooden hull behind her with a meaty thunk. It left a ragged hole in its wake, a gaping, splintered scar that looked almost like the wood had pulled itself apart.

She didn’t want to know what it would do to her if it hit. This was high level stuff. Maybe even from Sagis.

No, she thought as another whine filled the air, another jagged, blue bolt carving its way through the air in a ragged, zig-zag pattern that made it hard to predict. Once again the bolt seemed to stop in mid-air, as if seeking her position before—

Yup, she thought as she rolled to one side, the bolt slicing into the sledge as it missed her and leaving another long, jagged scar along the side as wood splintered. Guided. That’s new. Three more shots darted around the edge of the sledge, one after another, and she threw herself back and away, two of them narrowly missing her. The third struck her flank—a light touch, to be sure, but one that still burned right through her protective armor and sent a searing pain along her upper hip. She risked it a quick glance, but it was hard to see what sort of damage it had done from the blood welling up in the bolt’s wake. All she knew was that it felt like her skin had been ripped apart, and it hurt.

She fired another arrow at the ground, ice springing up and granting her a small bit of cover. A moment later she ducked as a bolt burrowed its way through the ice, small chips flying it its wake.

This isn’t working, she thought, moving to one side as bolt after bolt zipped into her cover. She could hear shouts coming from the mages, yells questioning whether or not she was still there. I need to get to a new position, find some advantage or way to break their shields. She risked a peek around the corner of the sledge, ducking back as a flurry of bolts roared at her.

They were close, clustered together near the bow of the Superority and still protecting one another with layers of shields. It wouldn’t be long before they turned their attention elsewhere; after Hain or Blade.

I need something I can use to shock them, she thought. Something that will—She paused, not even ducking as one of the burrowing bolts shot past her, close enough to summon another few pieces worth of armor.

Bingo.

She reached out, searching for what she’d felt earlier, and found it on the fringes of her awareness. I hope this works, she thought as she began to exercise her magic slowly, trying to get a feel for how far away she was manipulating things. And I’ll need to see, which means I’ll need to leave cover.

Oh well. The whole mission was do or die anyway, right? At least she’d take a lot of them with her.

She jumped out from behind the sledge, bolts whizzing through the air around her. One of them—a dark purple, vicious-looking thing crackling with energy—slammed into her chest, her armor shattering even as the blow knocked her through the air. But it didn’t matter, she’d seen what she needed to see. She summoned her magic in one giant push, shoving out towards the distant water tank with everything she had.

The side of the Superiority burst apart, multiple spears of ice punching their way free of the ship and out into the midst of the crowd of mages. Screams echoed across the bay as the shafts of ice punched into the crowd of unicorns, knocking them aside or spearing them through outright. She pushed the ice as far as she could, outwards from the side of the airship, ugly and jagged but razor sharp pieces branching out at as many angles as she could force, stabbing at random and hoping for the best.

She hit the ground on her side, her head saved from cracking into the stone only by the formation of more ice plates, cushioned on the inside by a small packing of snow. The blow was still enough to make her head ring, but she was still conscious.

She rose mechanically, summoning her bow even as a faint burning sensation began to spread at the base of her horn. She’d pushed herself hard, and her horn was complaining. If she pushed too hard she’d suffer from burnout. She’d need to keep herself from performing any strenuous magic for the next few minutes, until the burning faded.

Which she could do … as long as the Order of the Red Horn was no more. Her arrows lashed out, finishing the few wounded and scattered mages before they could regroup or bring their defenses back up. It wasn’t a long job—only two remained that weren’t fatally wounded or injured in some way. The rest, well … Her gambit had worked. A long, serrated ridge of ice growths expanded away from the side of the airship, jagged, angry looking spears twisting in all directions.

There were bodies at the end of many of the spears. The last of the Order of the Red Horn, gone at last.

Hain. She turned, notching another arrow even as the burn grew a little more noticeable. She’d need to stop soon. As soon as I …

She lowered her bow. Two of the mages fighting Hain were already down, and as she watched the third—who was desperately trying to get away—went down, Hain’s knife flashing as he passed by. The old griffon adjusted his position, breaking his momentum and making what looked like an awkward turn. A moment later, with a purple flash, the shadow he’d been fighting appeared, her blade cutting through the empty air where she’d thought Hain’s step was going to take him.

Then she too tumbled back, dead.

“The exit!” Blade said, spreading her wings as she jumped from the deck of the Superiority. “Ship’s already clear! Go!”

Frost nodded, tugging a vial of healing potion from her combat harness as she turned towards the opening that led deeper into the structure. There was a rasping sound now coming from deep within, and echoing, rapid clicking that reminded her of thousands of ice picks tapping against a frozen surface. Except there wasn’t any ice here save that which she’d made.

Focus, she told herself as she rounded the corner of the entryway, turning onto a long hallway that ran parallel to the back wall of the hanger. The clicking sound was louder now, coming from all directions as it echoed down the hall. She could feel the potion burning in her gut as she tore down the hall following Hain, working at her wounds and clearing her head. Blade flew by overhead as they headed deeper into the Necropolis, and then the source of the clicking made itself clear.

Skeletons burst into the hallway, rushing around the corners of an upcoming intersection and sprinting for them, their long-dead talons tapping out a rhythm as they moved towards the team. Frost glanced behind them to see more coming behind them, their whitish-grey bones twisting with shades of green as they moved under the light. Anubis’s own had arrived.

Hain and Blade met the front line of the charge with a crash, colliding with the leading skeletons in an explosion of dust and bone. Both were wielding the weapons they’d taken from the guard station, their pace barely slowing as they cut and crushed through bone. The lead pack of skeletons was cut down in moments, barely even reacting before they fell to the hallway floor, lifeless once more.

But it didn’t matter. More were swarming in from every direction, bursting out of the connecting hallways in ones and twos. Frost began firing, focusing on making her arrows as dense and heavy as possible, cutting their size in half to keep the balance right. The hardened missiles punched through heads, but it wasn’t enough. Many of the skeletons kept coming, and as the team barreled into the next wave, she found herself using the blades along the outside of her bow, whipping the weapon around her body and watching as slivers of bone flew away from a skeleton with a grotesque crunch.

She whipped the bow back across—momentarily surprised by the way the skeleton kept coming for her after she’d removed its head—and severed its spine, the two halves of the creature falling apart. She didn’t stop to see if that had killed it. Another skeleton was already diving towards her from some upwards angle—she could see some of them crawling along the ceiling and walls now—and she snapped her bow in-between it and her face, feeling the crunch of bone through her magic as the skeleton resisted the impact but then broke apart, the blow too much for it.

“Where are we going?” she shouted, bringing her bow down on another diving skeleton and piercing its skull with the tip of the blade, pinning it to the stone. She twisted it, the motion breaking the thing’s head apart, and then moved on.

“Up!” Hain shouted as he cracked his mace through two outstretched arms, knocking one aside and shattering the other. “This way!” He finished the skeleton with a quick jerk of his mace and then resumed running, turning down another hallway and heading for a distant pair of stairs. There were already skeletons swarming down the steps.

She turned, firing an arrow at a group of pursuing skeletons to wrap their legs in ice, then followed.

* * *

“You!”

Alchemy twisted his eyes as the shout echoed through the room, the anger that burned in the word so intense he felt like shying back. There was a weight behind it, a loathsome venom that spoke of nothing but hatred. Above him Cell paused, another blade held hesitantly in his magic as the unicorn looked up. “My lord?”

“You wretch!” Something slammed into Alchemy’s stomach, a blow so intense it knocked the breath from him. Cell backed away, his eyes wide with shock as a sneering, seething, red visage filled the air over Alchemy’s muzzle.

“You …” Sagis hissed, his voice long drawn out. “You and your inferiors just won’t leave me alone, will you!?”

“My lord?” Cell ventured again. “My lord, what—”

“We’re leaving!” Sagis said, the words coming so quickly they were almost a bark. “His—” the words came out as a sneer as he gestured at Alchemy, “—friends are coming. They’re already aboard the Necropolis. The betrayer is with them.”

Alchemy felt a faint flare of hope well in his chest as Sagis turned his gaze back down in his direction. It must have shown on his face.

“Don’t look so smug,” he said, the words coming out so low they practically oozed from his mouth. “They went the other way. They’re heading away from you and towards Anubis.” His eyes narrowed. “Worse yet, I suspect that if they were to learn that you were here, they’d come back this way.”

Alchemy’s eyes widened, and he opened his mouth, sucking in a breath to let out a shout when Sagis’s horn flashed. Silence came from his open mouth as the cult leader shook his head.

“No, no,” he said, a terrible look in his eyes. “We can’t have you doing that.” He turned towards somepony out of view, a sinister smile on his face. “The last thing we need is to draw your friend’s attention towards us. Or Anubis’s.”

“The immortal, my lord?” Cell asked. The doctor had a wide-eyed look on his face, like he was surprised at what was going on.

“Did you not hear me, mage? We’re leaving.” Sagis turned away once more, and Alchemy tried to shout once more, but it was like something in front of his mouth was muffling all sound. The shout echoed inside his own head, but he was the only one that heard it.

“But my lord—”

“Now,” Sagis said, glaring at the doctor, though his voice had calmed somewhat. “Our alliance with Anubis has ended. He used us to get what he wanted, and now that he has it, I have no doubts that he’s already cast us aside. His army just stood by while our people were slaughtered, did nothing while our foes killed a number of our brothers and sisters. We will take our airship and we will leave, but first …” Sagis’s gaze drifted towards Alchemy, bringing with a it a cold chill that seemed to settle somewhere deep in his gut. “First, we deal with this one.”

“Deal with?”

“Indeed,” Sagis said, nodding. “We can rebuild from this loss, given enough time. Nine of us still live, more than the founding members of the Order when they fled the Crystal Empire. We can recover from all of this, start anew. But we cannot do that as long as we do not survive.” The cult leader’s eyes drifted down towards Alchemy once more.

“Cell,” the red unicorn said. “Are you familiar with the process of balancing the equation?”

“Well—”

“It’s a principle,” Sagis continued, still staring down at Alchemy. “The idea that you need things to be in equilibrium. Right now, we are a balanced equation. The betrayer wants us dead, and her compatriots likely want to recover their ally. On the other hoof, they also know that Anubis is the greater threat, and seem dedicated to stopping him.”

“I—”

“The solution in this case is to unbalance the equation,” Sagis said, his expression growing dark. “If we remove one of the weights on our side, the other side of the equation outweighs us, and the scales tip. Do you see what I’m saying?”

“I … I am not actually sure I do—”

“Kill him, Cell,” Sagis said, and Alchemy felt a burst of panic as the unicorn turned his eyes down towards his. “Any way you like, but kill him now.”

Alchemy shouted again, jerking his limbs as he tried to push back against the straps holding down. It was no use. Neither they nor the spell gave. He shouted again, putting so much force into the scream that he felt his vocal cords tear.

“But Lord Sagis … My research—”

“Kill him now, Cell,” Sagis said, his eyes still locked with Alchemy’s. “I’d do it myself, but I’ve read enough of your summaries to know that you’ll undoubtedly learn something, certainly more than if I kill him.”

“But—”

“Last warning,” Sagis said as Alchemy let out another silent shout. “Kill him. For your research. And our fallen brothers and sisters. After all,” he said, a grim smile coming across his face. “He’s only an earth pony.”

No! He wanted to scream, wanted to shout, but nothing he was doing made any difference. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t talk. All he could do was jerk his eyes back and forth as Cell nodded, said “Very well,” and lifted something in his magic.

It was the potion vial. He was going to overdose him.

No, Alchemy thought, struggling against his bonds. No! The vial came closer, vise-like magic clamped down around his jaw, forcing it open and plugging his nose. No!!!

Cell upended the entire vial into Alchemy’s mouth.

No … He could feel it burning as it slid down into his throat. Not like this. His body was burning now, burning from the inside out as more power than he’d ever imagined flooded through his body. Everything in the room jumped into sharp focus; sights, sounds, and images rushing at him in ways he’d never imagined. He could see the pores on Sagis’s skin, the blood veins in his eyes. He could hear the heartbeats of everypony in the room, four in all—not including his own, which was thundering with an intensity he’d never felt.

He screamed, his body burning within him as his soul filled with fire. It was too much. He could hear everything Cell was saying in his clinical voice, describing the way the potion was tearing his own body’s magic apart; no longer content to fill in the gaps where he’d broken himself. He could hear the breathing of the escort that Sagis had brought, could tell from the differences in the volume that one was smaller than the other, smell the scents of everyone in the room and feel the light burning against his skin and his eyes and his muscles and his body and it was too much too much too much too much too much too much—

The world exploded inside his mind as the energy in his body could no longer hold itself back, and it burned through him like a raging fire. He could feel nothing but pain, pain more intense than anything he’d ever felt before as his body gave one final titanic surge of energy, a scream ripping from his lungs that was so powerful it tore through the magic holding his voice back, drowning out whatever the doctor had been saying. He felt his insides twist and churn as every cell in his body worked itself to death, trying in vain to burn away the energy as his heart rate increased, increased, increased, until it was a crescendo of thumps beating at more than a thousand beats a minute. Everything hurt, everything was pain, pain as his body burned alive in a flood of power he’d never been meant to have. Time seemed to have stopped, the looks of the unicorns around him frozen in shock.

And then, with a final, wrenching stab of pain, he felt his heart explode, tearing itself apart inside his chest as the energy made a final leap up to his mind. The world went white, and with a calmness born partially of shock, partially of clinical detachedness, he felt his body shut down. The sounds faded, the world washed itself away, his pulse slowed. He let himself fall back, the stretched and bent table catching him as his body went limp, his muscles having torn themselves apart. A final lance of energy burned through his mind, and then all was quiet. The world was gone, he was gone, and as the last moments of consciousness began to slip from him, he knew why.

He had just died.

* * *

“Is it done?” Sagis asked, looking down at the wide-eyed earth pony. He waited as Cell continued his scan, his magic flowing back and forth over the table.

“It is,” Cell said, nodding without looking up at him. “The subject has expired. And in a most unusual fashion too. It almost looks like—”

“Another time,” Sagis said, feeling a small sense of satisfaction as he looked down at the dead pony. “Can you move?”

“Yes, Lord Sagis,” Cell said. “Though if I may, would it be possible to bring to corpse with us? The residual potion mixture inside of him seems to be doing—”

“Of course,” Sagis said, looking back down at the dead pony. He wanted to lash out, to pummel his hooves against the wretched creature’s face until it was a mush. But he had to keep his calm. His followers needed him to be strong, not weak. He would have to settle for the satisfaction of having killing one of the five thorns in his side. Even if it hadn’t been as satisfying as he’d hoped.

“My lord,” one of the remaining mages asked, stepping forward and bowing her head. “Should we move now?”

“Not yet,” he said, shaking his head. “Wait for the scouts to return and confirm that the way is clear. I still wouldn’t trust Anubis not to send those three back this way. Help the doctor assemble his things.” He jerked his head towards the small supply of medical equipment that Cell had brought with him.

We wait until your friends are suitably far away and indisposed, he thought as he looked down at the dead pony. What had his name been? He found he didn’t care. And then we’ll leave this place, leave your friends and Anubis to tear at each other’s throats until one or both parties fall.

And the Order would survive. He, the strongest mage of the Order of the Red Horn, would survive. They would take his ship, and they would flee. Perhaps to the Crystal Empire, to search out their Order’s master once more. Or … elsewhere … wherever he could find a convenient place to go and gather new members.

But one way or another, he would be alive. And the Order would live.

With him as its master, and no one else.

Chapter 33 - Duty Beyond Death

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Necropolis - Somewhere over the Turuncu Desert

She could taste the bone dust in her mouth. It was disgusting.

Evidence of their battle was everywhere. They’d left a trail of broken, shattered bones behind them on their journey through the Necropolis: Fragmented limbs, powdered vertebrae, splintered wings, and lifeless claws marking every battle along the way. And with them, they’d picked up their own signs: cuts, scrapes, and bruising, or even worse injuries that they’d needed to squander their limited potion supply on.

She ducked under another set of outstretched talons, her armor shrieking across the stone as she brought her claymore up in an overhand chop that cracked right through one of the limbs and knocked the diving skeleton off balance. Her backswing caught it about the shoulder, ribs and spine splintering as the heavy blade bit deeply into the ancient bone, almost cleaving the upper body in half. She tugged her sword back, her foe already falling to one side, another stepping into its place almost as soon as it was gone.

“Blade!”

She turned at the call. Frost was holding up the rear of their action, using her magic to manipulate her bladed bow with dangerous finesse as she carved her way through the various skeletons coming from their rear. Every so often there would be a moment of calm and her bow would return to its original purpose, frozen missiles streaking down the halls to ensnare with ice or shatter bone.

“What?” Blade called, her blade biting through another skelton. Chips of bone sprayed across her face, planting themselves in her feathers along with the dust and dirt. When this is all over, I’m going to need to spend a whole day preening to get all this filth out, she thought.

“Armored in the rear!” Frost said.

“Right.” She turned, catching her newest assailant with the tip of her sword and trimming a piece of bone from its forehead. “Hain, cover the front! Keep us moving forward!”

“Got it!” The old griffon leapt to the forefront, his mace lashing out in surprisingly intricate patterns as he tore through the oncoming skeletons. Bone slivers flew through the air, the crunch and crack of his blows mixing with the rhythmic clicking of the continually arriving storm.

There’s just so many, Blade thought as she moved to the rear line. She could see them now, mixed in with a few other plain skeletons as they moved down that hall. Armored skeletons, two on the floor, one on the wall. The armor was old, tarnished, and crude, like something out of a history book, but it worked well enough, though the skeletons that came with it didn’t seem intelligent enough to make active use of it. How many more of these things can there be?

She knew she probably wouldn’t like the answer, though it was already floating on the edges of her mind. The place had vanished along with Anubis’s followers, after all, and it would have taken time to construct. If whole clans had been following the ancient immortal …

She shook her head as she stabbed her claymore into another rib cage, throwing her weight to one side and smashing the skeleton against the wall. She didn’t want to think about it.

Besides, she was fairly certain she’d seen several of the skeletons they’d taken out reforming with bones from other fallen allies. Which meant that not only was getting a solid count going to prove impossible, but that until they smashed every single bone on the city to powder, there were going to be foes for them to fight.

And we don’t have the stamina for that, she thought as the first armored skeleton approached her, its loose gait picking up speed as it moved to the attack. She stepped back, letting the first strike of its claws cut through the air, and then lifted her sword, blocking its backswing with the edge of her blade and feeling a sense of satisfaction as the claws chipped against the metal. The jarring motion seemed to confuse her opponent, and she lowered the claymore, stabbing outward and through the opening in her foe’s helmet. She felt bone crack as the tip of the blade punched through the cleft between the eye sockets.

She retreated, retracting her sword and stepping backwards as the skeleton’s claws came up once more. This time she waited until it was partially through its next attack to strike, the edge of her claymore colliding with the skeleton’s vambrace and then sliding down towards the elbow. She gave the hilt a twist, locking the blade inside the joint, and then threw her weight into it.

The right forelimb came free with a snap, the bone parting beneath her makeshift lever, and again she stepped back as the foreleg fell to the ground. The skeleton limped after her, but it didn’t seem quite sure how to react to the loss of its leg.

One limb down, more to go, she thought as it jumped for her, her blade parrying the attack. Beside her, Frost was dealing with the unarmored skeletons, mixing her ice magic with her bow and a few other clever tricks that seemed to be keeping the relatively simple-minded skeletons at bay.

Come on! Blade thought as her next strike missed, glancing off of the skeleton’s armor. The second armored construct had closed now, and she could see Frost out of the corner of her eye dueling with it, intermixing her blows with ice arrows to slow the thing down.

Her blade struck home, scraping down the side of the skeleton’s body even as its remaining set of claws skipped off of her own, superior armor. The half-rotted ties holding the thing’s armor plate snapped, and a second, quick blow sent both pieces tumbling away.

Die already! she thought, bringing her blade down on the armored skeleton’s left shoulder, bone snapping with a series of cracks. The thing slumped forward as its good leg gave out, and she kicked its head for good measure, the neck snapping under her blow.

She didn’t have time to admire her work, though. The third armored skeleton was engaging Frost now, and Blade stepped forward, knocking back an ordinary attacker as she did so. She went after the ice-encumbered skeleton first, its slower movements allowing her to slide her blade between a gap in the armor and then sever the ties holding it in place. A moment later it was unarmored, and it fell quickly. Between the two of them, the third fared little chance. It fell seconds later.

Blade took a quick look around as the wave of skeletons fell back slightly. The entire exchange had taken less than half a minute.

“Blade,” Hain said, his voice level and calm against the crack of his mace hitting bone. She wasn’t sure how he could be so deadpan.

We’re fighting skeletons, for crying out loud! she thought as she slammed the hilt of her sword into an oncoming beak, feeling a satisfying crunch beneath her talons. I’ve faced golems, and this is still interesting!

She nodded towards Frost and got a nod in return. She could hold out against what was left. Blade turned back towards the front, snapping her wings to give her a little extra force as she came down on a skeleton that was crawling along the wall near Hain’s head. It crashed to the floor, bones breaking apart, and she stepped up alongside the old griffon, her blade once more on the offensive.

“Opening ahead,” Hain said, nodding at the wide expanse ahead of them. “Could be a central hub.”

“Good,” she said, snapping herself up and into the air, cutting one skeleton from the ceiling before it could strike and landing in the middle of another pair, her blade sweeping from side to side. “I’m getting a little tired of fighting these guys.”

“Really?” Hain asked, bringing his mace down on another outstretched wing, the dry bones cracking like kindling. “From your grin I thought you were having a pretty good time.”

“It’s the taste,” she said, unable to decide if the old griffon was being sarcastic or not. Another skeleton fell, the end of the hallway drawing closer with its passing. “It’s disgusting, and the sooner I can get it off of my tongue and out of my feathers, the better.” Another skeleton collapsed, its spine parted by the passing of her sword. Now there were only five of them between her and the end of the hallway.

The floor trembled underfoot, a distant tremor sliding through the stone like a ripple atop a pond. She brought her claymore up again as dust trickled from the ceiling, her senses splitting their focus between the the oncoming skeletons and the unexpected rumble that had just moved through the city. She darted forward, ducking around an outstretched pair of talons, her armor tugging at her harness as the claws scraped against her arm-guard, thankfully passing by without catching anything. She lashed out with a hind leg and felt her paw press up against ribs. They were like cold, smooth, stone rods, with a pebbly feel to them, but they snapped with a brittle sound, like something ancient and tight had given way in a sudden, rapid motion.

The rumble came again, weaker this time, but also familiar. She began to count in her mind as she and Hain converged on the last few skeletons, both of them falling into the ingrained supportive combat stances that every griffon warrior was drilled in. Even as the second-to-last skeleton fell before them, collapsing like a museum exhibit that’s supportive wires had been cut, she felt another telltale rumble underfoot, followed by another, and then another. She knew the pattern.

“They’re shooting at the city!” she shouted as she dove forward, body checking the last skeleton and shoving it back. The magically animated things were strong, but only when they seemed to expect to need their strength, unlike the golems that her last employer had used, which were strong all the time. Which meant that unlike the golems, when you caught the skeletons by surprise, they didn’t display any sort of the strength or resistance they did when striking. And if you used that against them … she dropped, anticipating the skeleton’s actions and coming up from beneath it as it pushed back. Its momentum now misdirected, it flew up, propelled by its own legs and her own upwards-slanting shove. There was a loud crack as it collided with the ceiling.

“Who’s shooting at the city?” Frost asked. Another rumble sped by underfoot.

“The frigates,” Blade said, pausing as the last skeleton fell. The hallway was almost silent now, nothing echoing down it but their own voices and a familiar, chilling whisper of dry claws scraping across stone. “I recognize the timing. That’s gunfire. They’re shelling the Necropolis. Come on!” She bolted toward the end of the hallway, heading for the wide open space behind it. “If they’re shelling it, that’s just one more factor that’s on our side.”

They broke out into a massive atrium: A wide, high-ceilinged room with two levels and exits from each. In moments, her eyes had snapped to the long, grand staircase on one side of the room, a massive selection of stone steps climbing up towards the back of the room. There was an open doorway at the top of the steps, a wide, ornate thing that promised importance. Wherever Anubis was, and Alchemy if he was with him, it was probably beyond that door.

But it was the two buttresses that flanked the stairway that caught her eyes next that made her skid to a halt, her talons scraping against the stone as she came to a standstill, Hain and Frost coming up behind her.

“Well,” Hain said as he looked at the figures atop the twin stone platforms. “That’s new.”

Bones clicked as the two mighty figures sitting atop the buttresses shifted and stood, rising upon their plinths like ancient sentinels. Blade took a step back, falling into a ready position as each of the three heads atop the constructs shifted, empty eye sockets rolling over each of them. With a sound like dozens of stones falling atop one another, the two colossi began to move forward.

“Target the one in the back first,” Hain said as he reached for the blunderbuss on his back. “Duck around the one that gets here first and go for the one in the back so they’re forced to get entangled.”

“Won’t that mean we’re stuck in between them?” Blade asked.

“We’re already stuck between them,” Hain said as the colossus closest to them stepped down onto the stairs, its long, catlike body twisting and hugging the ground as it moved. She nodded. He was right. She could hear the telltale scrape of incoming skeletons even over the sound of the approaching giants or the rumble of the distant gun impacts.

“Right,” she said, lifting her sword. “Might as well be on our terms. Take ‘em down, run for the door?” She glared at the oncoming skeletons, watching how they were moving. They looked almost like hunting wrathlions, their long bodies low to the ground like they were preparing to pounce. “What do we hit?”

“Give me a minute,” Hain said, eyeing the pair. “It’s hard to tell what’s what with all that bone.” She nodded. She couldn’t blame him for the hesitation. The things were each sporting reinforced limbs, multiple bones making up each leg. The forward part of each body was raised, with its own set of multijointed, longer-than-average limbs extending out from oddly-jointed shoulders, a wide, long set of wicked looking talons at the end of each. Long wings wrapped across the back of each construct. Even the tail was longer than normal, with what looked like a spike of bone at the tip.

“Well,” she said as the first of the pair slowed. “I hope it’s a short minute.” The lead skeleton leapt at them.

“Go!”

They broke in unison, Hain going right while she went left, Frost pausing just long enough to fire an icy missile into one of the thing’s three heads before following. Blade jumped as an unnaturally long pair of talons swept toward her, the tips scything through the air, and she noticed as they passed by beneath her that there were six of them rather than three or four.

She hit the stone, ducking as the beast’s tail whipped by overhead, and from the corner of her eye she saw the long, multi-jointed wings begin to unfurl. It didn’t take longer for her to notice the way each wing had far too many joints, or the way each was laid out with fingers, like a bat’s rather than a griffon’s. Or the way each of the tips was decorated with another razor-sharp talon.

Deadly at every angle, she thought as the thing’s tail whipped past again, this time narrowly missing her shoulder. Big, angry, and dangerous.

The creature spun, its claws gouging the stone, but she was already out of reach, sprinting for the second of the pair, her legs pumping and wings snapping back for extra momentum. Hain was already leaping into action, his mace at the ready as he ducked under a vicious slash that likely would have removed his head from his shoulders had it connected.

An arrow caught the beast in the shoulder, the bones jerking to a halt as ice filled in the space between the bones, pinning one of the arms. Blade jumped, thrusting her wings down and launching herself into the air, rising up to head level with her sword once more at the ready. She rolled as one of the creature’s limbs lashed out at her, throwing herself into a tight spin that brought her around the outstretched arm, her sword sweeping up—

She jerked as something scraped across her side, skipping off of her armor plating and catching for just a second on the seam before tearing free. Her momentum altered, her blow skipped off of the skeleton’s arm, bone chips flying from the impact, but not hitting with nearly the force she’d hoped for. She angled her wings downward, dropping towards the stairs as the thing’s wings whipped back through the air where she’d just been.

She landed in a crouch, her legs already folding under her like coiled springs as the skeleton’s wing swung for her again, sharp-edged talons sweeping through the air with a faint whiff as they swept for her side. It was strange, she thought as jumped into the air, rising past the outstretched talons and bringing her sword up. Ordinarily battles were just so much shouting and grunting, exertion and effort making themselves known. The skeletons made none of that. They never shouted. They didn’t breathe. The only sound they made was the click of bone against bone when they moved.

We’re in a battle, Blade thought as she brought her sword up, the metal striking the thin wing bones and snapping them like sticks. But it’s like we’re the only ones in the battle. She could hear the sound of Hain’s measured breathing, Frost’s fast-but-paced hoofsteps … even her own grunts as she danced around the flailing remains of the wing, her own pair pumping to keep her out of range as the jagged, splintered ends stabbed at her. But the skeletons were quiet. No cries of pain. No acknowledgement of fear, anticipation, or defeat.

Now I know why the Tam sisters made their golems react a little bit, she thought as she darted in close, her blade whistling through the air and cutting through the base of the damaged wing with a satisfying crunch. The wing fell away, the bones scattering and cascading down the steps with a sound like dozens of falling marbles.

“Duck!”

She complied with Frost’s shout, kicking her wings up to add a little extra force to her descent and wincing as the skeleton’s tail slammed into her shoulder, the sharp point at its tip squealing across the metal as it passed. A blue bolt shot past the side of her head as she dropped, a missile fired from Frost’s bow striking home and immediately growing into a patchwork of ice clumps.

This is insane, Blade thought as she kicked off of the skeleton’s side, lashing out with her sword to clip it in the back of the arm as she passed. This thing doesn’t even need to see us to fight us. One of the heads telescoped outward, the bones beneath it unfolding as it lunged towards her, beak snapping shut with a loud click as it barely missed her tail. She spun, her sword sweeping out in a flat, horizontal arc that cleaved the thing’s skull from its neck. It spun off into the room, the skeleton not even reacting to the loss.

There was a moment’s warning as she felt the telltale currents of the air, an incoming breeze on her wings that was far too quick to react to, and then something slammed into her back, driving her down to the ground and slamming her into the stone steps hard enough that she felt her armor dent inward along her sides. The weight was gone almost as quickly as it had come, and she lunged forward, her claws scratching against the stone as the first skeleton—the one they’d ducked around at the start of the engagement—brought its hand down once more. Talons scraped at her hindquarters, hot pain spreading across her haunches as several of them found purchase, digging into her flesh and tearing at the muscle beneath.

But the damage was superficial, the attack too late, and she turned, juking as the skeleton stepped forward, its claws and wings spread wide. Where was Frost? She’d been behind them, hadn’t she? Had the skeleton gotten her—No, there she was, off to the side of the stairway, up but shaking her head like she’d suffered a nasty blow.

Blade juked, dodging as both the first and second skeleton decided that she was their primary target, each reaching out with taloned hands and forelegs and striking in short, rapid movements. Bone scraped across her armor as several of the attacks struck home, and she repaid them in kind, her sword making short, unwieldy cuts. Cuts it wasn’t designed for, but cuts nonetheless.

“Hain!” she cried as she narrowly dodged another attack. “Any ideas?”

There was a loud crunch, followed by a sound like a tree splitting, and the claws that were coming for her went off course, the skeleton lurching to one side as its entire footing shifted. “The hips!” Hain called, another crack echoing his words as his mace struck home. “Hips and rear pelvis! Immobilize them!”

“Got it!” she called, taking advantage of the distraction to step forward and sink her blade deep into the off-balance skeleton’s front leg. Two of the three bones that made up the lower part of the leg shattered, the aged bone unable to take the weight that was being asked of it and resist her blow at the same time. A trio of rapid-fire arrows shot over her head, all of them hitting the mobile skeleton, and Frost jumped past her, bow chipping at bone as she struck again and again.

The first skeleton leapt at her, and she pushed herself up, pushing down with her wings and hind legs and ignoring the searing pain that came with the motion. The thing shot past below her, all three heads tracking her as its wings sprang to their full extension. So intent was its focus on her that it barely seemed to notice as its chest slammed into its sibling, the impact knocking the already weakened skeleton further off balance.

A flash of white caught her eye as she rose, and she turned to see new—but thankfully ordinary—skeletons pouring into the room along the upper levels. Reinforcements had arrived. And, she noticed, her eyes widening in alarm, they weren’t moving to engage. They were spreading out, taking up familiar lines along the upper levels … and they had bows.

Thunderheads, she thought, a chill rolling down her spine. We need to go!

There was a shout from below, and she jerked her eyes downward just in time to see the more wounded skeleton lift Frost in one bony hand, its long, sinuous tail pointing right at the mare even as she lifted her bow to strike back. Blade dropped, kicking herself downward as the tail pulled back, readying itself to stab at Frost, and then—

An ear-shattering roar filled the room, a deafening boom as Hain fired his blunderbuss into the skeleton's back at almost point-blank range. The torso of the skeleton exploded outward as the shot tore through it, a cloud of dust and bone chips spraying across the atrium. The sound hadn’t even faded from the room when the skeleton began to crumble, its bones coming apart as the enchantment that had held them together dissipated. Frost fell to the ground, kicking the remains of the skeletal hand that had held her away.

That still left one colossus. Blade angled her drop, pushing herself down faster with a quick kick of her wings and pointing her sword out in front of her like an avenging lance. She slammed into the skeleton’s back, ignoring the rake of its wings as they skipped over her sides, and punched the claymore right into the construct’s spine, just above where its shoulders were. The thing shuddered, trembling as she ripped the blade free, and then it came apart, Blade jumping free as it collapsed in a cascade of bones.

“Hip, huh?” she said as she landed, glancing at Hain. He shrugged, his eyes turning towards the skeletal archers lining the upper half of the room.

“I can’t be right all the time,” Hain said, tossing the now-spent blunderbuss aside and running for the door as the archers released their first shots. Blade darted forward, sheathing her sword in one quick motion as she ran for the top of the stairs, Frost just ahead of her. The first of the arrows ricocheted off of the stone around them, pinging off of the stone, and she increased her speed, tucking her wings tightly against her body and trying to provide as small a target as she could. Twelve steps to go … nine … seven. Her flank was burning, and she gritted her teeth as she felt a sharp pain dig into her wing, and then another into her shoulder.

Two steps. An arrow ricocheted off of her armor. She could see another sticking out of the ice of Frost’s flank. Hear the sound of dozens of bowstrings twanging as more and more missiles filled the air. And then they were through, running down a long, slowly rising hallway, arrowheads hitting the stone behind them with a sound like rain drumming a tin roof, a hundreds of little clicks that echoed off of the walls.

“Hold up for a second,” Blade said, skidding to a stop and glancing at her back. Just as she’d thought, there was an arrow sticking out of her wing, and another had found its way between the armor. She could feel blood oozing out of the wound, hot and sticky as it spread across her coat, matting the fur. The wounds the skeleton had given her were still bleeding as well, and she could feel the tickle of blood working its way down her leg from the wounds on her haunches.

There was no time to be subtle or clean. She reached back and grabbed the arrow shaft, biting back a scream as she tugged at it. She could feel the head pulling against her flesh, resisting her attempt to remove it—and then muscle parted, new blood spilling out of her side as she tossed the bloody missile aside.

The one in her wing was both easier and harder. She pushed it through, ignoring the lance of fire that rolled down the limb as the arrowhead came out the other side. The top part of the shaft broke with a quick snap, and she wrapped her claws around the bottom half and tugged it the rest of the way through, digging into the slick wood to keep her purchase.

The last arrow came out without any trouble, only a portion of the head wedged in her shoulder. Frost was eyeing her with what looked like a newfound respect, and she could see Hain’s nod even as she reached into her combat harness and pulled out her last two potions.

Healing and Blood Restoration, she thought as she quaffed the first. Almost immediately the familiar burning sensation swept over her body, her wounds sealing themselves shut. She nodded at Hain. “Let’s move.” She would swallow the Restoration potion on the run.

Hain nodded, and the three of them began to run once more, heading up the long, level pathway. The ubiquitous green light wasn’t the best for seeing by, but she could make out something up ahead … a small alcove? A dead end? She wasn’t sure.

The Necropolis shook underfoot, trembling as something rumbled through it, and she paused, slowing. “You guys feel that?”

“Feel what?” Hain asked, his wings flaring slightly as he turned back to look at her.

The feeling moved through the ground again, a faint, jerking sensation. “That,” she said, coming to a stop and looking back down the hallway the way they’d came. “The vibration.”

“Isn’t that the frigate guns?” Frost asked.

Blade shook her head as she felt it again, this time mixed in with the more regular fire of the distant frigate impacts. “No,” she said. Again she felt it, and this time it was stronger. “It’s off-beat. Irregular. It’s something else.”

“Return fire?” Hain asked, though she could see the thoughtful look of curiosity on his face. He was as unsure of his answer as she was.

She felt it again, stronger still. “No …” she said. Something was tugging at her consciousness, a feeling that she’d missed something. What was it? “No,” she said again. “That’s not it.” The rumble came again.

Noise. That was what she’d missed. She looked back down the way they’d come as her eyes widened. It wasn’t just a rumble she could feel. She could hear the impacts, hear a faint scrape of something moving towards them, coming closer and closer.

Nothing followed us right away, she thought as something moved to block the distant opening, something dark and massive, far larger than anything they’d faced so far. They were waiting for this.

The thing surged forward, the stone vibrating underfoot as something long and sharp and wicked looking bit into the stone.

“Run!” She turned, sprinting up the hallway as fast as she could, snapping her wings back to give herself a quick burst of speed. She could hear whatever it was getting closer, its bones scraping against the walls.

The hallway ended as they spilled onto a level, rectangular stone platform sitting in a vertical shaft. Blade skidded across the slip stone, bouncing off of the back wall as she came to a stop and turning her eyes upward. The top of the shaft was blocked, sealed off by a stone door. Whatever was coming after them … She brought her gaze back down, her insides watering slightly as she saw the figure clawing its way up the hallway towards them.

It was a dragon. Or at least, the remains of one. It was pulling itself up the hall with its forepaws, claws as long as her legs digging into the stone, dragging a skull made of bone so black it could have been obsidian closer and closer. The jaws were open, and she could see dozens of teeth gleaming with a green sheen as the light rolled over them. Each lunge was bringing it closer and closer, covering almost a dozen feet at a time.

“We have to open that door!” she shouted, glancing around the small chamber as the rumbling underfoot grew even more intense. The dragon was only a few dozen feet away now, and closing fast. “Controls! A handle! Anything!”

“Here!” Frost called, slamming her hoof into a small, glowing image hanging in the corner of the chamber. Her hoof hit stone, passing through the image, but Blade felt something jerk underneath them as the platform began to rise.

It’s an elevator! Blade realized. The dragon, as if recognizing that its prey was getting away, lunged forward, its skeletal paw slamming into the platform and carving deep grooves in the stone. The elevator continued to rise for a second, the gap to the hallway shrinking, but then jerked to a halt as the back of the dragon’s paw slammed against the edge of the opening. For a moment everything seemed to freeze, and she could hear the thick bone creaking as it fought to resist the movement of the stone. Through the gap she could see the widening jaws, the other paw rushing towards them with its claws extended—and then the elevator won, the dragon’s bones exploding into dust and fragments that shot across the platform as the stone rose upwards with a jerk. Blade let out a sigh of relief as the massive claws tumbled to one side, the bones that had held them together falling apart.

“Let’s hope that thing can’t come back around and find us some other way,” she said, lifting the Restoration potion and giving it a quick quaff.

“And that we’re getting somewhere,” Frost added, bits of her armor dropping to the floor. They were nearing the stone door now.

“We have to be,” Blade said as the door above them began to open, the stone platform slowing. A faint white light was coming from beyond it, reflecting off of what looked like a pyramidal ceiling. “Get ready, we don’t know what—”

The wall of grey swept over them without warning, slamming them to the side of the shaft just before the elevator reached the top, and Blade felt her limbs freeze, her body paralyzed as a familiar, chilling sensation of terror raced through her. She couldn’t push herself up, couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything but gibber in horror as image after image raced through her mind, making her want to scream over and over again until her throat exploded.

“To expect?” Anubis asked, lowering his staff with a smirk. The immortal was standing atop a raised, ringlike control deck with what looked like control consoles around it, a throne at his back, and behind that, a massive, eight sided piece of crystal throbbing with pent up power.

“You know, that was actually a little disappointing,” the immortal said, lowering himself into his seat and giving them all a smile. “I mean, if I’m honest. I kind of expected you to expect that, you know? I had this whole thing planned and …” He shook his head. “Well, it doesn’t matter. What matters now is that you’re here, and you’re going to be a very attentive audience.”

The potion, Blade thought, the one sane part of her mind screaming out at her body to respond. The potion!

“You came all this way, and I have to admit I’m impressed,” Anubis said, still smiling, but there was no warmth in it. Just cold, calculating smugness. “And as a reward, I’m going to show you what this thing is really capable of. And then,” he said, his eyes narrowing. “I’m going to kill every last one of you.”

* * *

He was floating. He wasn’t sure where, or when, or how. He just knew that he was. He opened his eyes—or at least he tried, he couldn’t quite be sure if they were already open or not. Maybe they were closed. But then again, if they were closed, wouldn’t everything be dark? It definitely wasn’t that. Instead everything was light, bright and brilliant, light so vibrant and clear he almost felt like he’d been blind, that he’d never truly seen before.

He opened his eyes, shut them, and then opened them again. If anything, the light grew brighter, warmer. He could feel himself resting in it; being cradled by it. Its touch was soft, and as he took a breath, he could feel the warmth moving down through him, like the heat of a gentle fire, only calmer and, if possible, warmer. He could feel it swelling inside him, building, and then, just before it could become completely overwhelming, it slowed, holding inside his chest, warm and alive and unlike anything he’d ever felt before.

No, he realized after a moment of thought. No, he’d felt it before. He knew the feeling. It was the same thing he’d felt as a small colt when his mother had wrapped him in her hooves and held him close. The same thing he’d felt when his father had engulfed him in a warm hug. It was that feeling, only a hundred times more powerful, a hundred times more intense, almost overwhelming in its power and ferocity, yet so gentle it was responding to his every touch.

It was love. Love like he’d never felt before. Maybe it wasn’t even love. It almost felt beyond the word, something that shouldn’t ever be touched by it, like a cloud forever out of reach.

But no, it was love, folding itself around him and permeating through him, holding him. Love, stretching away in all directions all around him.

Names flashed to mind; ponies, griffons, beings he had known, and his eyes opened wide as a single, clear realization swept through his mind.

He had died.

He was dead.

Tears swelled at the corners of his eyes. He was dead. That was why he wasn’t breathing. That was why he was … Well … he didn’t know where. Thoughts began to pull together in his mind, images and sounds sweeping out of the corners of his consciousness.

I died. I failed. It was over. I … I died. This is death. He felt a faint tinge of shock as the concept sunk home. I’m dead. The warm feeling inside his chest seemed to fade a little, supplanted by … disappointment? Yes, disappointment. He’d failed. How he didn’t know, and at what he couldn’t remember, but he’d failed, hadn’t he?

I failed, he thought. I let everyone down. I let me down.

No.

He paused. The thought had been in his mind, but it … wasn’t his? It had felt like it had come from somewhere else.

No.

He blinked, though he wasn’t sure it had any effect. He could still feel the tears in the corner of his eyes, but something felt different now. The feeling in his chest surged, the warmth building.

But … He tried to shake his head as the feeling grew. He didn’t know if he did or didn’t. I failed. I let the team down. I let myself down. The feeling surged again, the warmth growing. No, he thought. I failed! I started being a soldier! I stopped being a doctor! I— He wanted to cry, wanted to let the tears go. But they wouldn’t come. I became—I became …

He paused, his emotions swirling, spinning around themselves while the love waited patiently. He didn’t know how he knew it was waiting patiently. He just knew that it was. It was waiting for him. Somehow he knew it was waiting for him, the same way that he knew he was dead.

What did I become? he thought. A soldier?

But … No … Something about that answer didn’t feel right. He knew it the same way he knew about the patience.

But I fought. I participated in battles! He felt a sense of shame swell up deep inside him. I used my curse for—

No.

He stopped again. What had it been? My—my cur—

No. He couldn’t say how he knew, only that he did. It wasn’t a curse. It had never been a curse. It had been a blessing, a miracle, a one-in-a-million chance that should never have happened, a chance that let him save the lives of each of his fellow apprentices and his teacher.

I saved them, he thought, something inside of him resonating. I saved them. Potions. Me. Alchemy. I did it to save them.

To keep them alive.

He’d always known it, but now it felt clear somehow, like he’d never quite realized it until now. The warm feeling in his chest seemed to swell a little more.

I kept them alive. Just like … just like I’ve kept so many alive since then. Images flashed through his mind unbidden, memories pulled from who knew where becoming crystal-clear, so clear he could almost touch them. His fellow apprentices. The sapients he’d known on the ice dredgers. His family.

Blade. Hain. Frost.

Barnabas.

But something felt … different. He was remembering himself speaking with each of them, fighting alongside them, but it wasn’t him doing the remembering. It was like … like he’d been looking at himself through glass his entire life, and now, for some reason, he was seeing him. Alchemy. The pony who’d been given an incredible gift.

You never stopped, he thought. You were always trying to make the world a better place, to be a doctor. You just … His memory of the time he’d spent wandering to the Ocean of Endless Ice, the time he’d spent just confining himself to be a doctor, flashed through him. You lost your way for a while.

The feeling seemed to swell inside him, the light around him growing brighter still, more vivid, more distinct.

You never failed because you never stopped trying. He couldn’t say whether the thought had been his own or … You never stopped wanting to help those around you. You never hesitated to throw yourself into the path of danger, in front of those who would have done the world harm. You have been a doctor. The fire in his chest seemed to burn, hotter and more powerful than anything he’d ever felt, but it didn’t hurt. It felt … good. Wonderful even. Indescribable.

You just needed to see it.

The light was shifting now, becoming more clear. Something seeming to be shifting inside of it, vague shapes that seemed … warm … the same way everything else did.

You have done well.

They were figures, moving out of the light. Vague and indistinct, but at the same time alive and real. Smiling figures that felt … familiar somehow. Like he knew them. They were smiling, nodding, looking at him with pride in their eyes, and at long last, he felt the tears he’d been holding onto for so long began to leak down his cheeks.

He knew them. They were family. Friends. Ponies he’d known who’d long since passed on, all smiling and standing in a line, waving at him and smiling. They were … younger … than he remembered some of them looking.

But they were happy. He could feel it rolling off of them. Happy for him.

And then he saw him. A figure, taller than the rest, stepping out of the light with a peaceful smile on his face, his massive arms and shoulders completely at ease, coming to a standstill behind the rest.

Barnabas, he thought, his jaw dropping slightly in shock as the figure gave him a small wave. Oh, Barnabas … I’m so sorry, I—

Barnabas held up his hand, shaking his head and still giving him the same peaceful smile.

But—

He shook his head again, rolling his eyes. Then he stepped forward again, right up close to him, so close he could feel his presence somehow. Alchemy’s tears felt hot on his cheeks as he looked up at the massive blue figure.

I—

A hand came down on Barnabas’s shoulder, another minotaur stepping up behind him and giving a gentle nod. She said nothing, but Alchemy knew who she was.

Aeliana. He knew what it meant. Barnabas was at peace; with the sister he’d lost so long ago. Both minotaurs nodded, still smiling, and then Barnabas reached forward, and Alchemy could feel a hand settle on his shoulder.

It’s alright. Alchemy felt his eyes widen still wet with tears as Barnabas smiled at him. Somehow, he just knew, that things were all right. Barnabas opened his mouth.

“Take good care of Frost for us, will you?” he said, his voice ringing clear as day through Alchemy’s head. Alchemy gasped, air flooding into his lungs, and Barnabas smiled again. Then he pushed, and suddenly everything was black.

He could feel again, feel the air rushing into his lungs, feel the cold table he was lying on, the tightness of the straps biting into his flesh, the fresh, hot tears that had rolled down his cheeks. The thunderous beating of his own heart. And most of all, he could still feel the warmth, though it was different now. The … presence … that he had felt was gone, but it didn’t bother him.

The warmth that he felt was his. Mostly. There was a feeling to it, like the faint traces of dew left after the morning sun, a brightness to his soul that seemed unlike anything he’d ever felt.

And beneath that, he could feel something new, something wonderful, something brilliant and beautiful unlike anything he’d ever felt in his life. It was like the power he’d felt in his chest after he’d taken a dose of his potion, but by comparison, that power felt weak. This was different. More vibrant. Unfading.

It was complete.

Then the world came back with a rush, and he was hearing voices all around him.

“—can he be alive, doctor? You yourself assured me he was dead!” He knew that voice, though it took him a moment to place it. Sagis, leader of the Order of the Red Horn.

“I said he was dead, but—and then you cut me off!” That voice belonged to Cell, the doctor who’d been experimenting on him. The one who’d poured the potion down his throat. “The potion was doing something to his corpse, that is why Edge and I were scanning him.”

It was fixing me, Alchemy realized. All this time, I was broken, not because the potion was trying to kill me, but because I was never taking enough to let it finish the job! All I needed to do was … well … die.

And he’d just done that. And he felt … alive. Very alive.

And he didn’t feel the tiniest need for his potion.

Someone was moving nearby, and he opened his eyes, the world jumping into crystal clarity. Sagis was standing over him, a furious grimace on his face. The stone behind him was unfamiliar, though still glowing green. They were still in the Necropolis then.

“Cell, the rest of the potion,” Sagis said, his scowl growing more pronounced as he locked eyes with Alchemy. “We killed him once, we’ll do it again.” His eyes narrowed as Alchemy smiled at him.

It won’t work, he thought as they pried his jaws open once more. He let them do it, almost. It felt like he could have resisted, could have slipped away if he’d wanted to. Even the straps that were holding him down didn’t feel like they could stop him anymore. Not because he was stronger—though he did feel like he was at his peak. But because … he wasn’t sure why, but he knew that if he wanted to, they straps wouldn’t matter anymore.

The last of the potion poured down his throat. They didn’t even have to force him to swallow, he drank it willingly.

Nothing. He felt it hit his stomach, felt it sift its way into his bloodstream and simply … cease. He was cured. He didn’t need it any more.

“He’s not doing anything,” Sagis said. “Cell, he’s supposed to be dying!”

“Perhaps more study would be in order,” Cell said, stepping up to the side of the table. Alchemy glanced at him, mulling things over in his head as the doctor began to go into a long-winded explanation of what studies he could do on Alchemy now that he was back.

The warmth was fading now. In its place was a more familiar sensation. Anger. They had killed him. Had killed who knew how many others. And now they were talking about killing him again. After they’d experimented on him more.

No. He tensed his muscles, feeling them flex and shift. Not this time.

Not ever again.

“No,” Sagis said. “I don’t like it. Kill him again and let’s move!”

“But—” Cell protested.

“No arguments!” Sagis said, turning and moving down the hall once more. “Kill him and let’s go. Make sure he’s dead this time.”

Cell turned to look down at Alchemy, offering an almost apologetic shrug. “Well,” he said as his horn hefted a familiar looking blade. “I suppose we’ll see exactly how long you hold out this—”

The world shifted as Alchemy moved, much like it did when he was using his abilities to move far faster than would otherwise be possible, except this time it was different. He didn’t just move, he moved, space sliding around him, the world bending and pinching—just like a unicorn’s teleport spell, he realized, only shorter, more abrupt, and localized just on him.

Cell stared at him in shock, his jaw open in disbelief as he took in the sight of Alchemy standing next to the table. Each of the nearby cultists seemed just as stunned, their eyes wide, some switching to anger as they realized what had happened.

“What—?”

It was all Cell said. Alchemy stepped forward, so quick he could feel the resistance of the air on his coat as he lashed out, his hoof catching the unicorn in the side of the head. Cell flew back, his head slamming into the wall with a hard clunk, and a for a moment, the rest of the cultists froze in shock.

That was for every pony you ever hurt or planned to, he thought as he felt for his power. It was still there, diminished a little, but he could feel it renewing itself. It always would be, now. The doctor’s heart was still beating, but he was out cold. Alchemy turned, his eyes snapping between the unicorn’s aide, and the other four members of the cult.

“Lo—” Fine Edge never got the chance to finish his sentence, Alchemy darted towards him, his outstretched hoof catching the unicorn square on the underside of the jaw so hard it lifted his body into the air. He was already moving away even before the unicorn’s front hooves finished leaving the ground, the air rippling around him as he dashed over to the nearest cultist, his shoulder slamming right into the mare’s chest. He bounced back, changing directions and cracking his elbow into another unicorn’s jaw. The world seemed to be moving at a quarter the normal speed, or maybe even slower, and he jumped, kicking out with both hind hooves and catching the airborne Edge in the gut.

Then it was over, Edge slamming into the other two cultists and sending them both crashing into the wall as the first two slumped to the ground. The two Edge had hit didn’t get up.

“You.”

The voice was so tinged with hate it was almost tangible, a slimy, sleazy ooze wriggling through the air. Alchemy looked up from his hoofwork, standing tall as his eyes lacked with Sagis’s.

“Yes,” Alchemy said, nodding as he dropped into a ready stance, Makucha ya Paka steps flowing through his mind like water. He could feel his energy—his own, long-lost earth pony magic, he realized, now changed into something new—renewing itself beneath him. He raised a hoof. “Me.”

“You have no idea what you’re up against, mud pony,” Sagis said, his red horn lighting with a virulent, purple glow. Bubbles of nothing seemed to ooze from it as the red unicorn lowered his head slightly. “I am Lord Sagis, Master of the Order of the Red Horn, and the most powerful among their ranks. And now,” he said, stepping forward, the glow on his horn building. “I will end you.”

Alchemy gave him a slight smile. “Interesting.”

The confident look on Sagis’s face melted slightly. “What?”

“Well, first,” he said, lowering his weight just a little more and preparing to spring. “It’s not worth much to say you’re the most powerful unicorn in the Order anymore. I think you’re the only one left.” Sagis’s lips pulled back in a snarl, the light around his horn beginning to pulse.

“And honestly?” Alchemy shrugged. “I’ve got a hunch I might be one of the more powerful earth ponies around out there. Kind of fitting, that.”

With a snarl, Sagis’s horn flared to full life, a beam of pure purple-and-nothing blitzing down the hall at incredible speed. Alchemy leaped, pushing his body up and to the side, kicking off of the wall as the beam rushed by beneath him.

Sagis twisted, firing again, this time something hot and bright, and once again Alchemy made the world around him shift, warping his body several feet to the left and kicking off of the wall again. Sagis’s eyes widened. “Impossible!”

He teleported, vanishing as Alchemy threw a hoof through the space where he had just been. Something tingled along his back, and he ducked, another purple-and-nothing beam stabbing through the air where he had just been. There was a loud shriek as it hit the wall, and a chunk of the stone vanished.

He spun, dropping below a fireball and bolting at what felt like an unreal speed back down the hall towards Sagis, who was standing next to the rest of the cult. Or at least, what was left of them. His beam had … disintegrated a number of them, Cell included.

Cruel, Alchemy thought as he slid under another blast, rising into the air with an uppercut as he reached Sagis. A magical shield rang as his hoof bounced off of it. Arrogant. He threw himself to the side, his body moving with an ease and speed far beyond normal, taking with it a portion of his magic, and Sagis’s counterattack—a trio of green bolts—blitzed through the air where he’d just been.

Uncaring. Unfeeling. He lashed out again, pressing the attack with a series of rapid blows that shattered the magical shield. Sagis threw himself back with another spell, Alchemy’s hoof narrowly missing his muzzle.

Interested only in himself, at the expense of all others. He dove forward, darting around bolt after bolt, some of them green and pulsing, others purple and cold, still more blue and jagged. The blue ones changed direction as they moved past, suddenly coming at him from all sides, and he jumped, his body spinning with all limbs extended, somehow avoiding every single one of the them.

He landed still moving, rushing forward only to be blown back by a barrier that expanded outward, pushing everything in the hallway back. It threw him into the air, and he kicked off of the ceiling, dodging another attack and rushing along the floor towards the cult leader.

The unicorn vanished as Alchemy neared him, disappearing from view. He spun, spotting the cult leader back the way he had came, rearing up with another spell already at the ready. The unicorn let out a wordless yell of rage, slamming both front hooves down into the ground, lightning lancing from his horn to the stone as his hooves touched.

The ground exploded, a rippling wall of explosions shooting up the hall at him as the stone itself seemed to break apart, fire and bits of stone ripping free in a swelling wave of destruction.

There was no safe way through it. He turned and ran, the stone shaking beneath him as he pushed himself to stay ahead of the oncoming shockwave. He could feel the heat and fury of the explosion, see the small fragments of stone whizzing past as they were propelled by the roaring blast. And then it was gone, a terrible stillness settling in its wake as he slid to a stop and turned to look.

The hallway had been annihilated, the stone cracked and broken into dozens if not hundreds of scattered pieces. Part of the green glow that had illuminated everything had faded, though there was still enough of it left active that he could see the hollow space directly in front of Sagis that the unicorn’s attack had blasted out, a space wider and larger than the rest of the hallway, littered with broken rock.

They locked eyes once more, Sagis’s horn glowing, and Alchemy bolted forward. The unicorn reacted immediately, his face twisting as he lifted dozens of broken stones in his magic, flinging them down the hall in a wave of debris. Alchemy tapped into his own magic, speeding his body as he darted around the projectiles, snapping from point to point and even at one point pausing to slam his hoof into a cracked and broken oncomer, shattering it.

Sagis screamed, more stones lifting into the air and flinging themselves at Alchemy. He twisted, kicking off the rubble as he jumped, spun, and ran down the hall. Bolts began to fly at him, mixed with the stone, and he threw more variance into his route, the projectiles colliding with one another as he dodged.

“Die!” The word was so ragged, so filled with vile and hate, that it rolled over Alchemy like a blow, a wall of anger and hatred rolling through his soul. He shook his head, pressing it away as he continued forward.

The ceiling shifted and then collapsed downward, a mountain of stone rumbling down at him in one giant avalanche as the level above him gave way. He shifted, the world bending around him just enough to get him out of the first few stones’ paths, and then he was racing towards Sagis once more, the roar of the collapsing hallway filling the air behind him.

The ground shifted, and Alchemy jumped to one side as the very stone Sagis was standing on lifted into the air, rocketing upward. All around him other stones were doing the same thing, even as the dust and rock settled from the collapsing of the hallway, lifting high into the air and orbiting around a central figure—Sagis—as he floated up into the now much more open space.

He’s tiring, Alchemy realized as he leapt upward, kicking off of the wall and landing atop one of the outermost stones. The orbit shifted, rocks spinning towards him, his own flipping to its side as Sagis attempted to grind him between the pair. He pushed off, jumping out into the air and tucking himself into a roll. Then he kicked off of the next stone, launching himself further into the air and narrowly missing a barrage of green bolts that blasted out from the center of the tornado.

He jumped again, and again, each time kicking off of one of the rocks and moving his way towards the center. He could feel his own internal magic starting to near the empty point. Both he and Sagis were running out of time. The question was who would run out first.

He sprang off another stone, dodging another volley of bolts as he changed direction, and then kicked off a final, smaller rock above Sagis, drawing his hoof back as he dropped down towards the unicorn.

The cult leader vanished with a flash of light, and Alchemy landed in the vacant space left by the unicorn’s teleport, his head twisting as he searched for the telltale flash of Sagis reappearing.

There! Sagis appeared some distance away, atop another rock, and almost immediately the stone beneath Alchemy began to fall. He jumped, pushing himself towards another and noting that it was falling as well. Almost a third of the stones were dropping to the ground. Sagis was wearing out.

He kicked off, pushing himself into the whirling maelstrom of rock once more and leaping from stone to stone, dodging smaller, faster ones as they whizzed past him. From the center of the maelstrom, Sagis looked up at him with a snarl, firing his magic once more—not bolts this time, but burning, sweeping beams that heated the stone they hit until the surfaces cracked apart, sending red hot fragments flying through the air. He kept moving, juking, dancing around the cult leader, getting closer and closer until, in a pause between one of the beams, he struck.

Sagis teleported again, but this time Alchemy was ready. He jumped before the stone he was on had even begun to fall, moving towards the flash with only one goal in mind.

Stop. Sagis.

No more beams. He could see the ragged look in the cult leader’s eyes, the shallow way he was drawing in breath. He knew how he felt. He could feel his own chest moving in and out, his magic growing low.

He has to have one last trick, he thought as he ducked around another stone, moving closer and closer as the cult leader watched. He’s holding something in reserve.

It was now or never. He pushed off of the final boulder, arcing towards Sagis, and the unicorn looked up, a grey aura surrounding his horn. Alchemy could feel the prickle of magic as a telekinetic field began to cling to him, began to slow him, twin boulders rising out of the darkness to crush him between them. He could feel his momentum beginning to halt, feel the touch of Sagis’s magic, weak but just enough to slow him, feel it like water pushing against his body, and then—

He pushed back, the last of the magic inside him shooting outward and around him, and Sagis’s spell rolled past him as he moved through it, the two boulders crashing and grinding behind him with a titanic bang. Sagis’s eyes opened wide in shock, and then Alchemy’s hoof slammed into his jaw.

The unicorn crumpled, and with it the stones he was holding began to fall. Alchemy felt his gut lift in free fall, and then he was slamming into the ground, his legs buckling beneath him as his hooves slammed into the still crashing stone platform. For a moment he could hear the rumble of settling rock, and then all was silent save for the sound of his and Sagis’s labored breathing.

He hurt, and he felt like he’d drained every bit of his power, but he was alive. And uninjured. And, as he rose and stepped towards the once grand leader of the Order of the Red Horn, he could feel his magic already starting to trickle back.

“You …” Sagis said, pushing himself up with shaking legs as he stared at Alchemy. His breath was coming hard, much harder than Alchemy’s. “You can’t …” he said, shaking his head slightly. “My magic … You … You’re not … You can’t …” His eyes seemed to focus on Alchemy, his head finally stilling as he gave him one last defiant look. “What are you?”

“I’m an earth pony,” Alchemy said, stepping forward. “Also a doctor. And today?” He lifted his hooves and lunged. “Today,” he said, planting one hoof at the base of Sagis’s horn, the other at the top, “I’m going to perform an amputation.”

There was a snap, followed by a loud, splintering crack as he wrenched his hooves inward, snapping the cult leader’s horn off at the base. Sagis let out a loud, echoing scream, as he reared back, his own hooves coming up and feeling the broken remnants of his horn.

He didn’t scream for long. Alchemy reared back and slugged him again, his hoof cracking into the side of the cult leader’s head. Sagis’s eyes rolled up into the back of his head, and he slumped to the stone, unconscious.

And so, Alchemy thought, stepping back and tossing the shattered horn off into the darkness. Thus ends the Order of the Red Horn.

The stone rumbled underhoof, and he turned, looking down the ruined hallway. Then, after a moment’s consideration, he turned and ran, leaving Sagis’s motionless form lying among the ruins of the hall.

There was still one more foe to be stopped.

Chapter 34 - The Lord of Bones

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Necropolis - The Control Deck

“Now,” Anubis said, lowering his staff as he turned back to the raised control array. “Where was I? Oh, right, the test.” He moved up onto the control ring, his back to the team as he returned to looking at the raised stones. Blade could see what looked like writing and numbers floating above some of the surfaces, information she couldn’t read that apparently pertained to the function of the Necropolis.

It could be a way to disable the city. Assuming they lived through the next five minutes. Or even the next two minutes.

Come on, she thought, her ragged consciousness pushing out against her body. Fight it! It’s just fear! Fake fear! There’s nothing to be scared of!

The rest of her didn’t listen. Her body was frozen, completely paralyzed by sheer, mortal panic; her breath coming in rapid, uncontrollable gasps. She could feel part of her mind lashing out, jerking at the slightest touch of the unexpected, the alien, like a leaf tossed in the wind.

No! She was fighting back. She knew it. It’s fake! It’s Anubis getting inside your head!

Her body recoiled, hunching in on itself slightly and shivering as her thoughts turned to Anubis. He was awe inspiring. Horrible. Terrible. More terrifying than anything she could ever imagine. He had killed Barnabas, and now he was going to kill her. And what would she have died for? Nothing, that was what. Nothing. No one would remember her. And those that did would remember her for all the things she didn’t want to think about, all the things she wanted to fly away from. Like leaving the clan holdings. Or siding against Hunter.

No.

She couldn’t do it. Anubis, that terrible being so casually toying with the controls some distance away from her, he would turn, would strike her down before she even moved, would end her life in the most horrible brutal way imaginable. And then what would be left? She would be—

No. Her unconscious mind paused, quieting slightly as her still-conscious self retaliated. No, that doesn’t make sense. Anubis wouldn’t kill you in some horrible way. Besides, would it matter if he did? You’re a griffon! And if you died here, you’d die paying back a friend, not betraying his trust.

Her claw twitched, and she pushed harder, her senses coming back to her as the feeling of overwhelming terror began to fade. Her breathing began to slow to a more manageable speed, her shaking slowing and her ruff settling.

There’s no reason to be scared, she thought, before correcting herself. No, there’s reason to be scared, but no reason not to do anything. Come on, Blade, he didn’t react when you curled up a moment ago, he’s not going to react now!

She could move her claws, though motion still felt strenuous, like she was fighting herself. Still, it was a step. Her body was against her every step of the way, still paralyzed by a flood of panic and terror so overwhelming it was all she could do to keep her mind focused. Anubis isn’t going to kill you, she thought as she moved her foreleg back, inch by inch toward one of the pouches on her combat harness. And if he does, she admitted, you’re going out on your terms, with your claws at his throat.

She could feel the fear fading, the nameless, awesome terror seeping away as she pushed back against it. It’s just fear, she told herself as she brought her shaking talons up to the top of the pouch, opening it. It’s not real, no matter how real it feels. And you can beat it!

She was doing it. Her claws were shaking less and less with each second, and she could feel the wall of resistance starting to come down. She shifted, pushing herself up just slightly as the fear began to break.

You are Blade, wandering claw, and one day blademaster! she told herself. You will not be beaten by this!

Even if you have to play at its game. Her talons stabbed down, glass clinking against them as she clenched them tight against the potion vial, and she froze, her eyes darting towards Anubis in a panic.

Nothing. The jackal was still preoccupied with his city, moving around the command ring from console to console as he went about what looked like the work of a whole bridge crew. Still, it took a moment for her to pull her eyes away from the immortal, the panic in her chest rising the longer she looked at him.

Focus. She lifted the vial free of her jacket, eyeing the potion inside of it. It was the color of molten butter, though no butter she’d ever encountered had possessed the same inner glow. Nor was it so thick or heavy, like a molasses that didn’t cling to everything it touched.

She slid a trembling talon up the side of the glass, slipping it beneath the metal clasp that held the stopper shut, and then waited, counting. One, two, three, four—now! Her claw snapped upward, flipping the clasp back and uncorking the vial at the same moment as another faint rumble rolled through the city, more fire from the attacking frigates. Her eyes flickered toward Anubis, and she felt a lull in her fear as she saw him still facing away from her. Good, he hadn’t noticed.

Now or never, she thought, lifting the vial to her beak and throwing her head back. The thick, gooey potion was like slime as it slid across her tongue, and she almost gagged as the slippery mess rolled into the back of her throat. It tasted awful, like she was swallowing her own feathers, but she clamped her beak shut and forced it down, grimacing as she felt every step of its journey down her throat.

She waited. Nothing. She still felt the fear, still felt the terror, though it was light enough now that she felt in control of herself again. She was terrified, but she could move.

No, she could more than move, she could beat this. It was just fear. She felt something swell inside her chest, her eyes opening wide as a new sense of purpose flooded through her, pushing back at the fear, overwhelming it. She felt like she could do anything, achieve anything. The fear was still there, she could feel it, but it was like it no longer mattered. She knew she was stronger.

She rose to a crouch, rolling her legs beneath her slowly as to keep her armor from making any noise, and glanced at Frost and Hain, checking to see if either of them had recovered as far as she had.

No luck. She could see from the way their wide, dilated eyes snapped to her with every motion she made that she’d recovered first. Her own resistance at work. Still, there was a hint of familiarity in Frost’s face as Blade took a small, shuffling step towards her, and though the mare’s eyes were bloodshot with tears, she didn’t flinch away.

Come on, Blade said, not daring to speak as she stopped next to Frost. The unicorn flinched slightly as her saddlebags were opened, and Blade carefully withdrew a vial identical to the one she’d just drunk. She saw Frost’s eyes leap to the vial, widening in a panic, and she froze, holding the vial in the air and rotating it until the words “Anti-fear” were directed toward her.

“Oh, come on!”

Blade froze again as Anubis’s shout echoed through the room, her muscles going taunt as she looked in the immortal’s direction, but he was still preoccupied with one of the controls.

“I don’t care if you’re two-thousand years old,” he said, tapping at one of the green numbers. “This is the first time I’ve used you! You can’t be broken already! What kind of damage?” Writing flashed in the air, and he slapped one hand down through them, banishing them. “Never mind. I’ll just reroute power then.”

Sounds like the Frigates are having an effect, she thought, watching to make sure the immortal wasn’t turning back to check on them. Though he doesn’t seem too bothered by it. Then again, a floating city of the size they were on would take some time to take down.

She turned back toward Frost, noticing that the mare had pulled herself forward slightly, towards the vial.

Good, Blade thought as she held it out. You’re fighting it. She could see the clenched teeth, the tightness of the muscles around the mare’s neck as she moved forward, locking her lips around the vial and upending its contents into her mouth. She swallowed, a look of disgust momentarily overpowering the fear on her face and telling Blade that the horrid sensation and flavor she’d tasted had not been for her alone. Then Frost’s eyes widened, her jaw dropping open as a rush of emotion moved across her face—and the glass vial falling for the floor.

Blade caught it in her talons just before it hit the stone, letting out a quiet sigh of relief and placing the vial in Frost’s saddlebags before turning to move towards Hain.

She didn’t need to. He already had his own vial in his claws, and as she watched, he tilted his head back.

A pulse ran through the room, a faint tremble off-beat with the constant drum of fire from the frigates, but perfectly in time with a loud whine from the center of the room as the gigantic, eight-sided crystal brightened.

“Finally!” Anubis’s shout echoed through the room as the crystal pulsed again, once, twice, the floor vibrating with each pulse. Then there was a final, brilliant burst of light combined with a loud whine, and Blade shut her eyes as the world itself seemed to twist around her, and then all was silent.

Silence. It took Blade a moment to catch the significance of it.

The frigates, she thought. They’ve stopped firing. Or they were no longer hitting the Necropolis, one of the two.

“Right,” Anubis said, before muttering something to himself in a language that Blade couldn’t recognize. He stepped over to another part of the ring, tapping at the controls. Blade tensed, readying herself as she glanced at the others. Frost was picking herself up, a determined look on her face, and Hain was shaking his head, the vacant look in his eyes fading.

All right, she thought as she lifted herself to her feet, keeping one eye on the immortal. We attack as one, and if possible try to do some collateral damage to the consoles, keep him from doing anything else. If we’re lucky—

The stone shifted underfoot, rumbling, and Blade flared her wings slightly as the walls began to fall away around them, splitting at the seams to reveal a star-filled sky. Wind whistled onto the command deck as the walls slid down into the superstructure of the Necropolis, and Blade took in a faint sniff, her eyes widening as she tasted … Salt? That can’t be right. We’re in the middle of the— The walls dropped past her, locking in place below the edge of the command deck and giving her a full view of their surroundings, and her beak dropped open.

Ocean. They were surrounded by ocean. She spun, twisting her head as she looked in all directions. Gone was the vast desert, the valley and distant sand dunes, replaced by a flat, almost calm sea, its waves twinkling in the moonlight. The only land she could see was a distant shore directly at her back, maybe a mile or two distant.

Somehow, the Necropolis had moved.

“Well,” Anubis said, and she snapped her eyes back front as the immortal turned. Work first, wonderment later. “Now that that’s worked, time to deal with …” He paused, frowning as his eyes landed on the three of them.

“Well someone’s confident,” he said, stepping forward and lifting his staff. “I was figuring it’d take you another few minutes at least to shake that off, but …” His eyes narrowed, his voice going cold. “It’s not going to be a problem.” The tip of the staff snapped out, and Blade braced herself as a wall of grey mist rolled over her.

Fear. She could feel it, coiling deep within her belly. A veritable storm of it, snapping and growling at anything that came close, raging out against her.

And she was above it. She could feel the fear, the doubt, the uncertainty, all of it coiling deep within her. It was there. But at the same time she could feel herself, her own accomplishments, and capabilities. The fear was there, but she knew it didn’t matter. She could feel her own sense of will pushing back at it, urging her to remember herself, realize that the fear didn’t matter, that she was stronger than it, better than it. To have faith in herself. In her team.

The mist rolled past her, billowing out into the open air behind her, beyond the edge of the command deck, and fading, but she still stood. She lifted her head, squaring her shoulders as she looked Anubis in the eyes.

“You sure about that?” she asked as Anubis’s eyes widened. She dropped into a crouch, reaching for her sword and spreading her wings just wide enough that she’d be able to move. Beside her she could see Hain and Frost readying their own weapons—Frost lifting her bow, Hain reaching for his knife. “Where are we?”

The question seemed to catch the immortal off-guard, but then he grinned and lowered his staff. Blade didn’t drop her ready stance.

“Somewhere over the eastern ocean, off the west coast of the Empire,” Anubis said. “To be honest, I’m not sure where. There was supposed to be a lighthouse here, but apparently that’s gone, so I’ll need to jump once more to someplace I do know in order to calibrate this thing.”

“So the city teleports,” Blade said, closing her talons one by one over the hilt of her sword. It wouldn’t be a good weapon in this fight—she wasn’t skilled enough with it to dare use it against a being who could move as fast as Anubis had during their first encounter, and her talons would be much more effective tools, but she didn’t want to risk them until she’d seen exactly how sharp his staff’s blades were.

“It does,” Anubis said, his surprise at their resistance seeming to fade from his face. “How did you resist?”

“Your fear?” Blade replied. “A little bit of belief in something. You shouldn’t be so surprised, Anubis. Tricks like that can’t last forever.”

“I agree,” the immortal said, one corner of his mouth turning up in a grim smile. “But you know what I like most about tricks?” He lifted his staff, holding it horizontally in front of him.

“They conceal the real threat.”

He lunged, leaping forward across the command deck, a snap crying out through the wind as a long, translucent-blue scythe blade formed at the end of his staff. Blade threw herself back, her sword coming out even as the group scattered, Frost firing an arrow at almost point blank range in the midst of her retreat. Anubis’s staff snapped to one side, so quickly it was a blur, the arrow hitting the blade with a sharp ping and shooting off into the darkness.

Then he was in front of her, his staff coming across in a sweeping arc, and she managed to get her claymore out just in time to deflect the curved, viscious blade, sparks flying from her blade. She jerked her wings down, narrowly dodging a second blow cutting back—and then blocking a third with her sword once more as the jackal moved forward.

Hain jumped at him from behind, as did Frost, firing as she moved, and Anubis blocked them both, his staff twirling in the air, weaving intricate patterns around him as he intercepted Hain’s strike and then Frost’s arrow, the butt-end of his staff catching Hain in the side with the same motion. The staff continued on its path, both ends skipping off of Frost’s bow and knocking it aside, and then Anubis stepped forward, his leg lashing out and almost catching Frost in the face as she reversed her course.

Both Frost and Hain fell back as Blade tossed the sword aside, jerking her talons through the straps of her sheath and cutting it off to be cast aside. Anubis stepped back as well, a thin, cold smile on his face as he brought his staff up horizontally in front of him once more.

“So,” he said, his cold, almost gleeful voice sliding across the command deck. “Fake fear is no longer enough for you.” There was a snap as another scythe blade jumped into being, this one on the butt-end of the staff, curving upward into the air while the one at the top was pointed straight down.

“You want the real thing.” His lips pulled back in a grin, exposing long, sharp, canine teeth. “Then come get it, and die like so many others.” For a moment all was still.

And then, as one, they moved.

Blade jumped forward, her wings kicking her down, beneath the immortal’s first, parrying strike, her talons coming up only to catch against the other end of his staff as he blocked her blow. Hain and Frost were both coming in from the sides, their weapons flashing under the moonlight as they each went for the immortal. Anubis seemed to twist, his dark, obsidian coat rolling with each twitch of his muscles as he countered each one of their strikes one after another.

Blade rolled, ducking to one side as Anubis’s staff flew by overhead, narrowly missing her wings—but then, she hadn’t been the target. Frost threw herself back as the scythe slammed into her bow, narrowly missing the bowstring and ripping the bow free of her magic, tossing it across the deck. She caught it a moment later, her violet magic snagging the bow and sucking it back towards her even as she conjured up several more arrows, flinging them straight at the immortal.

He backpedaled, his scythe humming as it snapped through the air, so fast Blade almost couldn’t follow it. Two of the arrows he intercepted. The third bounced off of his armored forearm, and despite herself, Blade smiled.

He could be wounded. If one of them could hit his armor, then they could hit his flesh. And there was a lot of it to hit, too.

She jumped forward, joining with Hain in a two pronged assault that pushed Anubis back, her talons and his knife slashing in and out as they pressed hard. All they needed was a few good openings—the jackal’s only armor was the greaves on his legs and the vambraces and shoulder guards on his arms. The rest of his body was bare, unless she counted the cloth wrapped around his waist or the strange headdress he was wearing. She didn’t think it would count, though if she got a chance to prove it, she’d take it.

Anubis’s foot caught her in the side, the impact painful even through her armor plate, and she pulled back, the tip of his scythe narrowly missing her beak. Hain jumped in, his knife flashing as he saw an opening—only for the other end of the immortal’s scythe to catch it at the last second, turning his blade aside and leaving an opening for the immortal to drive his elbow into Hain’s skull. The old griffon flew back, stunned.

Blade dove forward, her talons outstretched once more, but Anubis twisted again, sliding to the side around her assault and spinning his staff back behind him. The blade scraped across her armor before blazing a thin, painful line across her flank. She hit the stone and spun, letting her momentum carry her further away from the immortal as she glanced back at her haunch. There was a thin, red line on her fur, hardly noticeable compared to the blood already there. It wasn’t worth worrying about.

Frost jumped forward again, alternately firing and slashing with her bow. Anubis dropped back in front of her assault, his weapon twirling and meeting every thrust. Blade pushed herself up, rushing forward again with her wings outstretched, held ready for a quick burst of speed. Then she was back in the melee, her talons flashing as she struck and blocked, trying hard to track the weaving, spinning figure that was the immortal as he held off all three of them at once.

Blade saw his foot come up a second before it slammed into her gut, hitting her so hard she was thrown back across the command deck even as the breath shot out of her lungs. She hit one of the command consoles hard, her head snapping back as the stone refused to yield, and then dropped to the deck, the world spinning around her.

“You’re good, for mortals,” Anubis said as he stepped back, weaving his staff in a defensive blur, Hain and Frost pressing after him. Then he brought up his hand, and for the first time Blade noticed the small bits of armor along the backs of his hand and fingers as he extended his palm in Hain’s direction. Something rippled in the air, the armor bits glinting, and Hain was thrown back by some unseen force, spinning through the air before landing on his side near the edge of the deck. Blade pushed herself up, sucking in air as the immortal turned his focus towards Frost, this time going on the offensive.

“But you don’t know all my tricks,” he said, his scythe knocking Frost’s bow aside again and again as he pushed her back. Blade took a step forward, hobbling towards them as she tried to pull in more air. Together, they had a chance, but one-on-one ...

With a final crack, Anubis batted Frost’s bow aside, the weapon skittering away across the stone and coming to rest near Blade. Frost seemed to freeze, her eyes wide with shock as she looked up at the immortal.

“And like your brother, you can’t beat me,” Anubis said, the scythe swinging down towards Frost’s shoulder. Blade pushed herself forward, barely lifting off of the ground, her eyes wide as she saw the long blade come in close—and then Frost smiled.

Ice erupted around the mare’s shoulder, frozen armor growing outward in long spikes that looked hard as diamonds. The tip of the scythe met the ice with a loud crack, and everything seemed to slow for a brief moment, Anubis’s eyes widening slightly at the unexpected development …

And then the armor exploded outward, an almost deafening bang echoing across the top of the Necropolis as the ice gave way, propelling its jagged, razor-edged spikes outward at lightning speed. Anubis let out a yell of pain, stumbling back away from Frost, and then glared down at the spike protruding from his shoulder. It wasn’t in deep, and as Blade watched he pulled it free and tossed it aside, but she could still see the blood that came oozing out behind it, black like oil under the moonlight.

If it bleeds, she thought, the old war mantra coming to mind as she at long last sucked in a full breath, her wings spreading behind her. We can kill it.

“What?” Frost asked, a hint of sarcasm in her voice as ice began forming around her. “You think you’re the only one with tricks? It’s been over a thousand years, Anubis. You need to get with the times.”

“Very well,” Anubis said, his staff spinning once more in his hands as he stepped back, his body hunched. The staff snapped to a halt, once again held horizontally in front of him. Once more the three of them stepped forward, though now Blade could see the razor-edged look of focus in their eyes.

Anubis smiled, his eyes glittering as he motioned towards them. “Teach me.”

Blade jumped forward, and the battle began again.

* * *

The bay that the Superiority had been docked in looked like a warzone. No, Alchemy corrected as he ran into it, his eyes sweeping over the destruction. It was a warzone. Bodies were strewn across the deck, long since silent and cold. Scorch marks seared the stone, signs of magical warfare scarring the floor of the bay and mixing with icy, melting pools of water where Frost’s own magic had been hurled back in retaliation. But most eye-catching of all was the titanic, spiked mass of ice crystals growing out of the Superiority’s side, right from about where one of its water tanks would have been located: a vast, dangerous array of spikes that spoke to their function by the number of cultists impaled on their tips.

He averted his eyes, focusing on the stone beneath his hooves as he ran up to the side of the airship. The chaos and carnage had been unavoidable, but he didn’t have to dwell on it.

A single jump was enough to push him up over the edge of the Superiority’s gunwale, the simple effort tugging at his magic but still leaving him with ample reserve. He couldn’t hold back his smile as his hooves touched the deck. Moving so effortlessly, without having to worry about his lifespan or his potion supply or, well, any of it, felt amazing.

For the first time in years, he felt free.

The door to the inside of the airship was already open, its latch splintered and showing fresh-wooded wounds of its own. He stepped over the unicorn lying slumped inside the entrance, his eyes noting the deep slashes across the mare’s body as Blade’s handiwork. It had been quick, brutal.

He moved on, placing his steps with care as his ears listened for any signs of activity. There were none, though he found signs that what activity had been there had been interrupted, most likely by a raging, red-feathered ball of claw and muscle. But of recent activity, there was no sign. The ship was empty.

Now what? Part of him wanted to turn and leave the bay, to resume the search for the rest of the team, but another part of him wanted to stop, maybe consider using the ship in some way.

But what good would that do? he thought as he stepped onto the bridge and looked out the windows. He could see ocean stretching out past the mouth of the bay, though he couldn’t tell when they’d moved. Maybe it had been while he was … well, dead.

He shook his head. The airship wasn’t going to do him any good. He needed to find the team.

Which, now that I’m here, shouldn’t be too hard, he thought, taking a quick look around the bay. If they left half the trail they’ve left in here, it shouldn’t be too hard to follow. He’d have to double back and check the hallway, heading the opposite way he’d come from and see if he could find any sign. But first … What would Blade tell me to do if she were here?

Maybe he couldn’t reach the team for a while yet, but there had to be something he could do that might help. Priority one was definitely Anubis, but priority two, now that the Order was done for, was most likely the city itself. And that, right now, given where he was, and what he knew of the Superiority … He nodded. That was something he could do something about.

The engine room was cool when he entered it, the boilers having been turned as far down as possible to keep the airship at a ready state while still reducing fuel consumption. He paused for a second, his eyes darting around the room as he took in water pipes, fuel lines, and—most importantly—safety shutoff valves, overpressure gates that would keep the system from reaching catastrophic levels of heat and pressure.

He smiled. He wasn’t an engineer, but he had a passing knowledge of boilers thanks to his time on the Ocean. And it didn’t take much knowledge of how something worked to figure out how to make it stop working. In an explosive fashion, if necessary.

The valves were the first to go. He snapped regulators, crimped pipes, and screwed everything designed to bleed off excess pressure down as tight as it would go. Safety releases he broke, or jammed. Less than a minute after he’d entered the engine room, all four boilers were nothing more but slowly ticking death traps.

He didn’t want slow. He wanted fast.

It took him only a second to locate the fuel gauges. Four small, independent lines ran out of the far wall, past the gauges and their accompanying fluid controls, and into the base of the heaters beneath the boilers. There were four small levers, each one connected to one of the gauges. At the moment, all four of them were set to their lowest level, letting just enough fuel eke out of the tanks to keep the boilers warm. There was another gauge as well, this one running back into the wall and controlling the pressure at which the fuel was being primed before being brought to the boilers. He slammed it all the way to the right, and the needle started to climb as somewhere, a mechanical pump went to work, pumping air into the priming tank.

He didn’t wait for it to climb very far. Priming a fuel to high pressure could take time, time he didn’t have, but having the pump running would keep the fuel coming at a higher speed than normal. He slammed all four of the fuel valves to one side, and a loud whumph echoed through the engine room, four boilers bursting to full burn as he turned and ran for the door.

A minute later he was running down the hall, following a trail of bones and moving fast, burning a bit of his power to keep his pace up. The explosions of the boilers wouldn’t be enough to do too much damage to the stone, and the liftgas in the envelope was inflammable by design, but the vast supply of gunpowder in the fully topped off powder storage he’d found while searching the ship, well … Hopefully Anubis didn’t mind his city having a newer, much larger landing bay.

Alchemy smiled as he galloped down the hall. Blade would be proud.

* * *

Blade slammed into the stone, her head ringing as she bounced off of the thick rock, her mind barely clear enough to push herself back just before Anubis’s scythe cut through the air where her beak had been. Someone came at the immortal from the side, distracting him long enough that Blade could push herself up, dropping her body back into a ready stance as she moved to attack once more.

The demigod’s staff came up, interspacing itself between her and Anubis, twisting this way and that to keep her back while the immortal focused his attention on Hain. Sparks flew as the old griffon’s knife bounced off of one of Anubis’s forearm guards, and then Hain was thrown back as Anubis slammed his fist into the side of his head.

Blade lunged forward, her talons ringing as she caught the immortal’s staff just below the tip. Anubis snarled, yanking the weapon back towards himself, and she followed, letting his pull tug her in close. She slammed into the immortal’s chest, trying to pin his staff up close where he couldn’t use it, only to find herself tumbling through the air as he shoved her back, hard.

She could see arrows streaking in as she righted herself in the air, Anubis deflecting one of them and then falling back, retreating under a barrage of icy bolts so fast even he couldn’t block them all. He ducked behind one of the stone control consoles, three arrows exploding into icy shards as they collided with it.

Good work, Blade thought as she circled around, her wings pumping. Frost continued to fire arrow after arrow, a never-ending rain of ice slamming into the control cabinet and keeping the immortal pinned. Now if Hain and I can work our way around the side—

Her plan went out the window as Anubis rose, arm whipping out and throwing his staff straight towards Frost. She dove to the side, the staff just barely skipping off the edge of her bow and bouncing across the command deck.

He’s unarmed! Blade thought, dropping herself into a dive. We hit him—

Anubis’s palm came up, the immortal not even looking in her direction as he unleashed the same wall of force she’d seen him hit Hain with earlier. She twisted, tucking her wings in tight against her sides even as she tried to get out of the way, but it was too late; she’d been heading at Anubis head on. She saw the air shimmer, twisting and distorting like a giant heat wave was rushing towards her, and then she was tumbling away, the world spinning around her as she was shoved back. It felt like every part of her body had been pushed all at once, like some giant hand had swatted her away.

But aside from the abrupt, jarring change, it hadn’t actually hurt that much. She righted herself in the air, orienting herself with the deck and trying to locate the fight once more.

It wasn’t hard to find. Hain was dueling Anubis once more, the fight a little more fair now that the immortal was lacking his staff. The griffon’s knife was diving in and out, the blade flashing as he drove it forward again and again, only for sparks to fly as Anubis twisted, blocking each thrust with his vambraces. Hain countered, changing his approach and slashing with the knife while trying to get in close with his claws, only to cry out in pain as Anubis wrapped one hand around his wrist, pulled him close, and kneed him in the chest, so hard Blade could see the armor plating dent inward. Hain went down hard, his head slamming into the deck, and though he didn’t go limp, she could see that he was dazed. He wouldn’t be getting up anytime soon.

She pumped her wings, trying to get back to the fight as Frost jumped up over one of the consoles, her bow firing in air. Anubis dove, tucking himself into a roll as he danced away from the mare’s shots. She followed him around the ring, firing over and over again.

Come on! Blade thought, pushing her wings down. One of her armor plates had been heavily dented at some point during the fight, and she could feel the metal pressing in against her side, rubbing against her flesh with each downbeat of her wings. None of us can take this guy alone! The more they fought, the more it looked like they wouldn’t be able to take him together either.

At least he’s unarmed, Blade thought as she flew over the abandoned staff, the blue glow of its blades tinting the stone around it. Frost had almost caught up with the dodging immortal, and several of her arrows had struck his armor, leaving small buildups of ice weighing him down. Without that staff, we might have a—

The staff flew by below her, soaring through the air in a straight line and meeting Anubis’s waiting palm with a loud smack. He whipped it around just as Frost leaped for him, catching the blade of her bow with his scythe and yanking it off to one side. Frost’s eyes widened as the motion transmitted through her telekinetic grip, and both she and the bow went flying off to one side, over the edge of the command ring and onto the deck. She landed with her hooves under her, metal shrieking as she twisted her bow against Anubis’s scythe, trying to pull the two apart. Anubis stepped forward, both hands on his staff as he pushed—

And Blade’s talons raked across his back, carving dark, moist lines across his coat as the immortal howled in surprise and pain. He spun, his fist coming around and catching her in the flank, sending her spinning away to crash against the side of the crystal. She saw him turn back towards Frost, beginning to twist his staff once more, and an arrow shot from the mare’s bow, pinging off of his shoulder armor and off into the night.

He snarled, yanking his staff—and Frost’s bow—inward. This time, Frost let go, and Anubis snapped her weapon around, pointing his palm at it and launching it out into the sky with another wall of force. Frost reacted in time, catching it with her magic before it could fly over the edge of the command deck, but then a second force wave slammed into her, and the mare was flung back off of the command ring, rolling across the command deck.

Her feet under her once more, Blade rose, launching herself at Anubis with her claws outstretched. He turned, but too slowly, and she locked one set of talons around his staff, yanking it down even as she lashed out towards his face with her other foreleg. There was a piercing shriek as the tip of Anubis’s blade punched through her armor, followed by a pain that blossomed along her side, but at the same time she could feel her talons cutting a path through the immortal’s flesh, carving tracks across his obsidian coat. The staff jerked beneath her, Anubis using the blade caught in her armor to twist her off balance. He threw her back, and she landed on three legs, the fourth held at eye level so she could see the dark, oily blood dripping from her talons.

“You bleed,” she said, giving the wounded immortal a grin. She could see a faint shimmer on his chest where she’d struck him, light glinting off of wet, oily, dark lines that moved from his shoulder to the center of his chest. As she watched, it spread, blood seeping from his wounds.

“So do you,” Anubis said, lifting his staff. The latter quarter of the blade was slick with fresh blood, and she could feel the hole in her side leaking more as she stood there. Hopefully the Blood Restoration potion she’d swallowed was still in effect. Otherwise it wouldn’t take more than a few more injuries before she went down for good.

“And unlike you,” Anubis said, taking a slow step forward, once again holding his staff out horizontally. “I’ll bleed for a lot longer.”

The air around his palm pulsed again, but this time, rather than a the lone wave of motion she expected to be hit by, his staff came with it, flying through the air at the forefront of the attack and slamming into her chest hard enough that it lifted her from her feet. Behind it came the wall of force, sweeping her up even as the impact of the staff began to dull, throwing her further back and slamming her into something that refused to yield. She fell to the ground as the wave faded, gasping for breath as Anubis twitched his hand, recalling the staff once more. The world was ringing around her, blurring, her head and whole body hurting.

“Do you know what this city is truly capable of?” Anubis said, stepping towards her as she pushed herself up. “What feats it can accomplish?” He shook his head, reaching out for one of the control consoles and tapping his fingers along the surface. “Why don’t I tell you, since you’re not going to live long enough to find out. I’ll admit, I was planning on keeping you alive long enough to see it, but …” His eyes drifted down to the long, wet tracks across his chest. “Well, I think you understand why I want the satisfaction of killing you now.”

The world was still hard to focus on, though it was slowly coming back. Blade blinked, opening her eyes wide as she looked up at the immortal. “Well, are you going to do it, or are you just going to talk about it?” Yeah, that was smooth, she thought as the immortal’s expression darkened. Let’s make him angry.

“Only when you realize exactly what you’ve failed to prevent,” he said, his eyes still on her. The world was coming back into focus now, her vision clearing as Anubis stepped over to one of the control consoles. And there was something else too, something odd and unfamiliar, a tingling sensation in her forelegs, like they were falling asleep.

“Besides, I’ve yet to be able to explain this to anyone, and with Sagis and his ilk running now that I have no use for them, I might as well tell you three, since you’re trying so hard to prevent it.”

“You talk too much,” she said, pushing herself up on one shaky foreleg. The command deck seemed to tilt around her. That last hit had been a little much, though all she needed was a few seconds …

“Do you know what a light storm does to flesh?” Anubis asked, ignoring her quip as one hand danced over the console. Lights began to shift and move. “It burns it. Right down to the bone. And while my magic can’t do anything to flesh—it’s too heavy, the innate magic too resistant—bones I can animate just fine. Raise as mindless, if effective, automatons, like the ones you faced on your way here.”

“Thus, Necropolis,” he said, smiling. “A teleporting light storm generator. In a few minutes, this city will jump into the skies above your own capital city, Sheerwater, and unleash its power, burning entire districts to ash.”

“It won’t work,” she said, pushing herself up. Her head had cleared now, though she still couldn’t place the tingling in her forelegs as it moved for her talons. All she could do was hope it wasn’t nerve damage. “You think those frigates were doing damage? That’s a fraction of the fleet’s power. The Emperor’s own fleet has several dozen frigates, all top of the line and with the newest weapons. They’ll break this city in half.”

Anubis shook his head. “Of course they would. That’s why I won’t be the one engaging them. They’ll be too busy trying to clear their own streets.”

“What?”

“Necropolis is a fortress, yes, and an outdated one. But it doesn’t need to stand up to your fleet. All it needs to do is fire.”

“Oh thunderheads …” Blade said as what he’d been saying sunk in.

“You understand now,” Anubis said, smiling. “I appear, fire once … and then every griffon struck down by my Necropolis rises and turns on the living. And while the chaos spreads, I move and do it again.” He let out a low chuckle. “And from there? Well, depends on how fast you mortals react. Perhaps I’ll fire another two or three times before I vanish, leaving them to clean up the mess rampaging through the city. And I’ll go somewhere else. Another city. Or maybe another country. And I’ll do it again.”

“And the end goal?” Blade asked. Her vision was back in full now, and she kept her eyes focused on Anubis, her mind peeking at the rest of the scene around them, checking the rest of the deck. She saw a faint flash of metal out of the corner of her eye. Good.

The jackal smiled. “What else is there, mortal?” He almost spit the last word out. “Power. Power over a bunch of short-lived insects whose only purpose is to scurry around for my amusement. Power to watch an entire nation crumble to my whims, to dance at my tune, with the knowledge that any time they resist, I can simply appear in their skies and raise their own dead to fight against them.”

“So just for kicks, huh?” The world had stopped spinning now, and though she could still feel a pain in her side where he had stabbed her, it wasn’t deep, and it wasn’t distracting enough to bother her with all the other aches she had. “Just for fun?”

He shrugged, making a final tap at the control console before stepping toward her. “With the Creator gone, this world falls to us few, the immortals, do with as we please,” he said, smiling. “So yes.”

“Right, I kind of figured you’d say something like that,” she said. The tingling had worked its way to her claws now, and she smiled as she realized she knew what the feeling was. “So you know there’s only one way this can end, then.”

“Indeed,” Anubis said, dropping into a combat stance once more. “I believe my response should be ‘Are you going to do it, or just talk about it?’”

She shrugged. “Oh, definitely do it,” she said, crouching. “But I wanted to make sure I wasn’t the only one in on it first.”

She was jumping even as the last words left her mouth, the tingling, itching sensation of unfamiliar magic erupting across her claws even as Anubis turned, lifting his vambrace just in time to turn Hain’s knife from his throat. His staff came up to block her, blades spinning, and she pushed, grinning as a familiar distortion erupted in the air, this time not around Anubis’s hands but her own talons, spilling out and over the end of the staff and sending it twisting to one side. Anubis reacted quickly, his eyes growing wide with surprise even as he shifted his weight, twisting his body and blocking her outstretched talons with his shoulder. Her talons hit, leaving deep scratches across the guard before biting into the flesh of his arm …

And then she was being thrown back, the immortal recovering and tossing her away with a shrug. He let out a howl of anger, his staff snapping out at both her and Hain, its blue blades a shimmering line in the air as he snapped it back and forth, blocking, parrying, and attacking with both of them at once. Blade twisted, snapping her wings in and out in response as both she and Hain pressed in, jockeying for an opening as they pressed onward. An arrow flashed out of the night, narrowly missing Anubis’s head and continuing on to bounce off of the crystal at the center of the deck, and then Frost was in the fight as well, her bow flashing as she countered Anubis’s staff.

A blow got through, the butt end of Anubis’s staff catching her in the chest on the backswing, the blade following behind and scraping across the front of her crumpled armor. She grimaced, even as Frost took advantage of the distraction to fire another arrow at the immortal’s feet, this one spreading out in a thin layer of ice. Anubis retaliated by slamming the end of his staff into the stone, cracking through the covering and giving him the leverage to launch himself at the ice-blue mare, who fell back off the command ring as his fist swept through the space where her head had been.

Hain jumped for the immortal’s back, dropping down at the last second as the staff whipped by overhead, yet still slashing out with his knife. Anubis let out a shout as the blade cut a long, bloody track along the back of his leg, but rather than snatch the limb away, he kicked back, his foot striking Hain in the shoulder and kicking him across the command deck. He slid off of the ring and dropped onto the deck, out of sight.

“Sands and blood!” Anubis swore as his staff came back up to block Blade’s next attack. “I am so going to kill all of you!”

His fist hit her in the stomach, the impact enough to lift her into the air, followed by a force wave that slammed into her a moment later. It threw her back, almost over the top of the crystal, even as her body began tingling, hungerly sucking in the magic and sending it back to her talons.

“You’re never even going to see your city fall apart in anarchy,” Anubis shouted as he batted aside another arrow from Frost, only to find on the return swing that it had grown into a solid block of ice around his staff. His fist came down, smashing the ice apart as he strode towards the lone mare, his hand catching her bow between the blades as she swung it again and wrenching it free of her magic.

“And I’m going to make sure it burns,” he shouted, lashing out at Frost with both his staff and the bow. The mare ducked back, ice armor exploding outward in razor-sharp fragments that the immortal ignored. “I’m going to level it! You know why?”

He whipped around as Blade dropped out of the sky, the staff snapping up at her too quickly for her to dodge. Her armor, already dented, crumpled, her ribs crying out as the blow battered her aside. Her retaliatory strike went wide, magic rippling out of her claws into open air.

“Because you’re actually starting to make me mad!” Anubis said, spinning back around before she’d even hit the ground and backhanding Frost across the command deck. “I get it, I killed your little friend,” he said, tossing Frost’s bow after her and getting another explosion of ice in return. “But you couldn’t just let that go.” He turned as Blade rose, then rushed at her, slamming her back up against one of the consoles, his staff pinning her forelegs up around her shoulders, holding her against the wall.

“You should have just called it quits then,” Anubis said, pushing against the staff, the metal bearing down on her throat. She pushed back, her forelegs trembling as the immortal began putting more and more pressure on it. Slowly but surely, it was pressing down on her throat, choking her. Anubis’s muzzle was inches from her beak now, his breath hot against her face. Her hind legs were kicking out blindly, trying to find some weak point, something to dig into, but he was playing it smart, leaning forward into her with his body at an angle.

“In two minutes, my city is going to appear over the skies of your precious capital,” he said, his breath ruffling the feathers of her face. The staff pressed in, the metal lowering across her throat despite all the force she was putting into pushing back. “My first targets will be the markets. Griffons and sapients of all kinds will look up as my light burns the flesh from their bones, and then they will rise in turn to burn your city to ashes.” He pushed again, the staff cutting off her airway, and she began to choke, fighting to get air to her lungs.

“But you won’t be alive to see it.” The staff was inexorably grinding down, making sure her throat was completely cut off. She couldn’t wheeze, couldn’t force out any kind of response. Her body was crying for oxygen, screaming for air as Anubis’s leering face filled her tunneling vision—

And then something slammed into the side of Anubis’s face, a blow so fast and so quick she didn’t even register it until the immortal was already falling away. The staff went with him, and she slumped to the ground, gasping and coughing as she sucked in long, deep breaths. Someone’s hooves paused in front of her and she looked up in surprise, her eyes widening as she saw the familiar, orange-furred face.

“Alchemy?” She let out a choked laugh, her throat still throbbing. “Good timing.” He held out a hoof, and she took it, letting him help her up. There was something … different … about him, though she couldn’t quite put her talon on it. “Thanks for the save.”

He nodded. “Save it for when this is all over,” he said, crouching as Anubis rose. The immortal paused, his jaw sliding back and forth as if he was hunting for something, and then spit onto the stone. A oily, black mass with a tooth at its center splattered against the deck.

“You knocked out one of my teeth!” he roared. “You know how long it takes to regrow one of those!?” He leaped forward, his staff spinning towards them, and Blade jumped backwards, pushing herself with her wings as the scythe missed her chest by inches. Alchemy seemed to blur, moving as fast as Anubis as he jumped, one hoof kicking off of the staff as he rose to meet the immortal. “Centuries!”

Whatever semblance of patience there had been before in Anubis’s motions, there was none now. The jackal was a blur, spinning, moving, dancing across the command deck as he and Alchemy went after one another, both of their bodies moving so fast they were hard to track. Alchemy moved with a speed unlike any she’d seen him exhibit before, blocking Anubis’s staff and dancing around the immortal as they traded blows back and forth. But even that wasn’t enough for him to land any blows on the demigod.

Blade dove in, coming at the immortal from behind, her claws scratching off of Anubis’s staff as he twisted, leaning farther back than she ever would have expected a being on two legs to be capable of, and snapping the staff between both of them, back and forth. They were driving him back, but neither of them could land a hit.

“We’ve only got two minutes!” Blade shouted, trying to get Alchemy’s attention. “Then the whole place is going to move!” A scythe blade scraped across her chest, leaving fresh scratches across the already battered red-and-gold coloring.

“No, we’ve got about fifteen seconds!” Alchemy shouted as he blocked the other end of the staff and shoved it back.

“Until what?” She ducked, barely missing another blow even as she went for Anubis’s legs. Several feathers shot away from her wing—a narrow miss.

“Until the Superiority explodes!” Alchemy shouted, shooting her a grin.

“What?” Both her and Anubis’s shocked cries echoed into the air, only for Alchemy to slam his hoof into the immortal’s face. He rocked back, his staff coming up just in time to deflect Blade’s own assault.

“Yep!” Alchemy said. “I decided to do something you’d do! Any second now!” Anubis snarled and pressed towards them, his staff twirling in the air.

She felt the explosion before she heard it, the stone jerking underfoot, jumping upwards and to the side like someone had kicked it. Then the shockwave hit, a roar of sound so loud she could feel it sweeping across her feathers. Out of the corner of her eyes she saw a gout of flame and smoke spew out of the side of the Necropolis, thick black smoke billowing up into the air as stone cracked and gave way. The Necropolis lurched beneath them, dropping, and for a moment all combat was forgotten as each of them fought for balance, eyes wide as they felt the city begin to fall.

And then, with a heart-stopping lurch, it stopped, its plummet arrested after only a few feet.

“No!” Anubis said, leaping away before either of them could move after him and landing next to one of the control consoles. Alchemy followed, leaping after him, refusing to let up and forcing the immortal to dance away from the display even as the bright text flashed up at him.

“You!” he said as Alchemy blocked his staff. “It’s going to take me days to fix that. Weeks maybe!”

“What’s the matter?” Alchemy asked as he danced back, Anubis following. “I thought you were supposed to be an immortal. Ever patient and all that.”

It’s not enough, Blade realized as she watched Alchemy fall back once more, leaping and twisting over the side of the command ring. Even he can’t keep up with him. They needed Hain and Frost. But Hain was—

“The staff!”

She spun as she recognized the voice. Hain was limping around the side of the command ring, opposite the side Anubis and Alchemy were dueling on. His rear leg was twisted, bent at an odd angle, and he was using his wings to hold himself up. His knife was still clutched in his talons, however.

“The staff,” he said again as she ran towards him. “We need to do something about the staff. It gives him too much reach.”

“Right,” she said, her mind racing. Anubis could recall it if they took it away, and who knew from how far away, so throwing it wasn’t an option. They needed to get it away from him and keep it from him. “Right,” she said again. “Frost?”

“Went over the edge,” Hain said, shaking his head. “I can’t go after her, not with this leg.”

“Right,” she said, nodding, and glancing back at Alchemy. He and Anubis were still going at one another, though Alchemy was giving up more and more ground. She clapped a talon on Hain’s shoulder. “Stay here, keep low until you can do something. I’ll see if I can spot Frost.” She jumped into the air, ignoring the pain in her body as she flew out over the edge of the command deck. The outer sides leading down to the main superstructure of the city was sloped, so if she’d been able to—Yes! There, a quarter of the way down the slope, was Frost, a trail of small, icy hoofholds stretching out below her on the stone. As Blade watched, the unicorn conjured another small bit of ice and threw it into the rock above her, pulling herself up the steep slope to grab it.

“Frost!”

The mare looked up, eyes wide as Blade swooped down. “Blade?”

“Alchemy’s back,” she said as she swooped in close, holding out her forelegs. Frost’s face lit up even as she jumped away from the side of the city, locking her wrists around Blades elbows. “Hain has a plan. You still have magic?” She began to rise through the air, her wings burning as she lifted Frost up towards the command deck.

“I do!” Frost called. “What’s the plan?”

“To watch for an opening,” she replied. “Alchemy and I are going to try and get Anubis’s staff away from him, and from there, you might have a better shot!”

“Right!” They passed over the edge, the command deck once again spread out before them, and Blade let go. Frost hit the ground at a run, her horn already lighting up as she located her bow and pulled it across the deck.

Okay, Blade thought as she spotted Anubis on the far side of the deck, still pushing Alchemy back further and further. The orange earth pony was sporting several bloody lines across his body, though the wounds had already healed, but she could see that he was starting to drag a little. Hain, meanwhile, was keeping his distance. From the way Anubis was positioned, it was clear the immortal was keeping an eye on him.

Okay, Blade thought as she climbed a little higher. We can’t play keep away, and we can’t just toss it over the edge. Think outside the box here, Blade. Outside the box. Box. B. Plan B. Break.

No, she thought as she looked down at the scene, watching as Frost moved in, taking some of the pressure off of Alchemy with her arrows and keeping her distance. It’d never work … would it?

There was only one way to find out. And it was as good a plan as any. She tucked her wings in close, dropping into an almost vertical dive. She’d need to time it just right. She adjusted her course, spiraling around so that she was coming in from the side, where Anubis and Alchemy both would see her.

“Alchemy!” she called just before she hit. “The staff!”

Anubis spun, his staff held out at arm’s length, and she slammed into it at full speed, ignoring the pain of impact as the force shot up her forelegs. She spun, her talons digging into the metal as she whipped around Anubis, the staff stretched tight holding them together.

And then, rising into the air, his hoof cocked back as he put everything into the blow, came Alchemy.

The staff snapped as his hoof hit it, sparks flying as it came apart in two halves. Blade went spinning across the deck, slamming into the stone and losing her grip on the half she’d been holding. It skittered away across the deck, bouncing off the side of the command ring. She rolled to a stop, slightly disoriented and sore, but alive.

“You … Bloody sands!” Anubis shouted, and she looked up to see him still holding his half of the staff. The bottom end was a wreck, but the blade was still active, and as she watched he flipped the remains around in his hand, the blade now forward. He lunged at Alchemy, who fell back, clearly exhausted by the strength of the force he’d put into the blow. Blade sympathized—her talons felt like they would never stop ringing. “Do you have any idea how much work it took to make that?”

He lunged forward again, the tip of his blade cutting a shallow arc across Alchemy’s chest. “I’m going to kill each of you nice and slow,” he said, lifting his free hand in the direction of Frost. The air rippled, two of her shots scattering as she dove to the deck.

“You’ve busted up my city, blown up part of it, and now you’ve broken my staff?” Alchemy got his hooves up in time to block the next strike, but the next one cut another thin track along his leg.

Come on, Blade, she told herself, ignoring the ringing in her talons as she pushed herself up. If you don’t stop him here, who will?

She jumped forward, one wing sending a shooting pain down her side as she moved back into the fight. She felt like she was moving through mud, her limbs reacting slower than was normal. But they were reacting, and she ducked under Anubis’s next blow, her talons glancing off of his armor.

A fist hit her between the eyes, and she stumbled back, her vision clearing just fast enough to see the end of the staff before it slammed into the side of her head. Her body went limp, stars erupting all around her as she dropped to the stone. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Alchemy leap forward, only to be swept aside as Anubis hit him with another force blast. The orange earth pony skidded across the stone, barely standing.

“You know,” Anubis said, reaching down and locking his fingers around the back of her head. She cried out in pain as he lifted her from the ground, pain shooting through her skull. “For a bunch of mortals, you did pretty good.” He lifted what was left of his scythe. “But in the end, it doesn’t matter. You still die … just the same!” He smiled and pulled back what was left of his scythe as behind him, Hain rose out of the night, his knife in one pair of talons, the other half of Anubis’s staff in the other.

The immortal screamed as both blades dug into his flesh, diving deep into the meaty muscle above his collarbones. Blade dropped, spreading her wings to catch herself as she fell and then pushing herself forward, taking advantage of the distraction to dig her claws deep into Anubis’s chest, so deep she could feel them scrape against the bone. Anubis spun, tossing her aside as he whirled to go after Hain, but the old griffon was clinging to his back, his talons wrapped tightly around the embedded staff, the blade sunk all the way up to the metal, while his knife flashed in and out, cutting at muscle after muscle in a series of precision strikes. Then he dropped, and as he fell his knife darted out once more, cutting into the flesh behind Anubis’s knees and sending the immortal stumbling forward.

Alchemy was on him in a moment, stepping up behind the immortal and slamming his hooves into the backs of Anubis’s knees. Then he jumped, rising even as the jackal fell, kicking out at the base of the broken staff and twisting the blade further. Anubis lifted a hand—only for an arrow to spear right through it before encasing it in ice.

Blade stepped forward, gritting her teeth and clenching her beak as she picked up the half of the staff that Anubis had dropped. Alchemy and Frost struck again as Anubis tried to rise, their combined blows spinning him around and sending him stumbling towards the edge of the deck. Blade waited, hefting the other half of the broken staff in her hand, and then, as the immortal turned, she shot forward, putting all her strength into the swing. The solid thunk of the blade embedding itself on the right side of his chest was all she needed to feel, and she let go as Anubis dropped to his knees, oily blood seeping from more than a dozen deep wounds. She could see his muscle tissue through a few of them—it was pale and grey, like ash.

“I’ve read my history,” Blade said as she stepped back, watching the immortal’s shoulders heave up and down as he struggled for breath. “You die just the same if someone hurts you enough.”

“Why …?” Anubis’s head turned upwards, his teeth set back in a grimace. “You could have just left. It was just money! A job!”

“Yeah,” Blade said, nodding. It hurt to stand, but she didn’t want to drop. “Kind of. But you only skimmed the surface of my mind. Money was nice, sure, but it wasn’t completely about that. And to be honest, it hasn’t really been about that for a while now.” Hain limped up alongside her right side, his wings outspread as he tried to keep his weight from his rear leg. Alchemy followed suit, standing at the ready on her left, though he looked like he wanted to do nothing more than sleep.

“Oh, really?” There was still a note of defiance in Anubis’s voice, raspy and weak as it was. He put one hand on the ground, pushing himself up into a low crouch, his body shaking as he spoke. “Then I expect it was all about the glory, wasn’t it? The honor of stopping one of the immortals, of keeping his ‘evil plan’ from coming to fruition.”

“Yeah,” Blade said, nodding as the immortal rose to his full height, swaying on his feet. “Those are all pretty good reasons, especially that last one.” Hain and Alchemy both nodded in agreement. “But there was one more reason.” She stepped to one side, parting as she heard the hoofsteps coming up behind her.

“Oh?” Anubis asked, glaring at them as he lifted his hand to his side, stemming the slow seep of blood. “And what was that?”

“My brother,” Frost said, loosing an arrow into his chest.

Anubis gasped, his hand rising to clutch at the icy shaft protruding from his chest. His eyes traveled down, wide and unbelieving as he looked down at the thick arrow, and then back up at the team.

“I … I …” His eyes seemed to focus on something far beyond them, going wide as he took a shambling step backwards. Frost shot him again, the second arrow burying itself beside the first, ice spreading outward from this one and imprisoning his arm and chest. His jaw went slack, his shoulders drooping as he swayed one final time.

“No …” he whispered. And then he was gone, falling back off the edge of the command deck. The team stepped forward, watching as the once-mighty immortal’s body rolled down the side of the Necropolis before slamming into the stone roof almost a hundred feet below them. There was silence.

Anubis, Lord of Bones and ruler of the Necropolis, was dead.

Blade let out a sigh, sinking back on her haunches as her body started to tremble. It was done. They’d won. Beside her, Frost’s bow clattered to the deck, the mare sinking with a look of shock and surprise on her face. Then, to Blade’s surprise, she began to cry, tears carving icy paths down her cheeks.

“I did it,” she said as Blade moved over toward her and pulled her in close. “I got him. Just like he wanted me to. I did it.”

“He’d be proud,” Alchemy said, stepping up alongside them and giving her a tired smile. “Trust me.”

“Not to break up the celebration,” Hain said. “But what are we going to do about the city?”

“We break it,” Blade said. “Crash it, right here, with Anubis’s corpse still on it. He wanted a city of the dead, now he’s got one. It can be his crypt. His real one,”

“Right, right,” Hain said. “But how do we do that? I can’t read any of the instructions on this thing.”

“The crystals,” Frost said, pulling away from Blade’s shoulder and wiping her tears away with one hoof. “The keys.”

“What?”

“We still need them to get paid, right?” she asked. “Well, they’re both set in the floor next to that throne, and both of them are glowing. If we pull them out …” She shrugged.

Hain nodded. “It could work. We’ve got to get them anyway, so we might as well try. We’d have to fly to shore, though.” He glanced at Blade. “You think your wings could handle it?”

She nodded. “It’s not too far. We’re pretty high up, and there’s good winds. We can glide it.” She turned towards Frost and Alchemy. “You two would have to ride, though.”

“Whatever it takes to get us off of this thing,” Alchemy said. “If you think it’ll help, I’ll flap my legs.” Frost nodded, though she didn’t speak.

“Right,” Blade said, wincing as she took a step towards the command ring, where the central crystal was still humming away, displays glowing green around it. The deck felt almost empty now that the battle had finished.

She paused as her crumpled armor dug into her side once more, and then sat back on her haunches. “Give me a second,” she said, peeling the plates back and reaching for the releases. “Might as well shed some weight.”

The chest panels clattered as she tossed them on the stone, and for the first time she could see how much damage she’d taken during the fight. The metal was scorched and dented, with several holes in it where something had punched through. She pressed her talons against her side, wincing as she felt her ribs ache.

“Trouble?” Alchemy asked, stepping up to her. She waved him away.

“Cracked ribs,” she said. She’d dealt with them before. “Maybe broken. Hain’s leg is definitely broken. Go check him.”

“I already did,” Alchemy said. She blinked. Had she been taking her armor off for that long?

“You also might have a light concussion,” he said. She blinked again, and he nodded. “Make that almost certainly.”

“Well, I’ll fly it off,” she said, rising and looking up at the command ring. “Is Hain good to fly?”

“He is,” Alchemy said. “His wings are good. We’ll need to set his leg and put a splint on it as soon as we can, though.”

She nodded. The news didn’t come as a surprise. “Well, let’s get our paycheck and get out of here.” She rose, walking towards the command ring and letting out a faint sigh as she felt the wind whip through her matted fur. She felt tired, filthy, and disgusting, but it was all almost over.

“By the way,” she said as she made her way up onto the command ring, Alchemy close behind. “Did you pass a dragon on the way to us?”

Alchemy shuddered. “Yes, and let’s just say I’m glad it was facing the wrong way.”

“Right,” she said, slowing as she neared the throne. There, just as Frost had said, was one of the crystal keys, glowing faintly, its top flush with the stone deck. She trotted around to the other side of the throne, spotting the second key. “Maybe if we bring back two, we’ll get a better payday.”

“Two-hundred thousand bits isn’t enough?” he asked as she reached out, wrapping her talons around the thick, crystal shaft running along the top of the key.

It really was a handle, she thought as she looked up at Alchemy. “For what we just did, I feel like I should be holding out for a million.” She clenched her beak shut and tugged.

Nothing. The crystal didn’t budge.

She frowned. Maybe there’s a locking mechanism? She tried to twist it to the left. Nothing. She turned it to the right. Success! The crystal key slid smoothly for a bit, and then stopped.

All right, she thought. Now out! She pulled upward, and slowly but surely it began to rise.

Tartarus, she thought as she pulled it further up. Either this thing’s really heavy, or … No, she could feel it trying to pull itself back, trying to suck itself back in. There was a faint, deep hum growing from beneath her.

“Blade?” Alchemy asked as the key’s outward momentum stopped with a click.

Must be another—Yep, there it is, she thought as she began turning it again, this time to the left. When it stopped and she began pulling this time, the hum grew noticeably louder, until she could feel it in her teeth. It was getting easier to pull out, though, and as she felt it stop once more, it was two-thirds out, only the very point still down in the receptacle. She could see energy—visible magic, and the source of the hum—arcing between the key and its slot.

“Blade?” Alchemy asked again.

“Alchemy,” she said, giving the key a final twist to the right. “As soon as this key comes out, take it right to Hain and get moving. I’ll get the other one. You got that?”

The orange earth pony nodded. “Got it.”

“Good.” She pulled up, the hum growing louder and louder, the arcing magic growing more and more violent until … The key popped free, almost launching upward as she pulled it out, the magical arcs vanishing with a loud snap. She held onto the key for a moment, surprised at how light it was despite its size, and staring at the faint, blue pulses within it as the humming sound faded.

“That it?” Alchemy asked.

Then there was a rumble, the entire Necropolis shaking underfoot, and she tossed the key at him as the city began to tilt. “Go!” Alchemy didn’t wait, tossing the key onto his back and running for the edge of the city as the shaking grew more intense.

Come on Blade, she told herself as she ducked around the side of the throne, wrapping her claws around the second key. The deck was already tilting at an alarming angle, and though the rate seemed to be slowing. Still, the Necropolis clearly didn’t like having half of its … Well, whatever the key was torn away. You already know the sequence. Get it out. The hum began again as the key lifted out, energy arcing beneath it.

Now go! she thought as she tugged the key free. She flapped her wings, lifting off as an even more alarming rumble echoed through the city superstructure, a long, uneven groan coming with it. The deck began to tilt again as she flew over it, this time in the other direction, and much faster.

“Blade!” It was Frost, holding onto the tilting deck by means of her bow, the bladed tip stuck deep into a seam in the stone. “Here!”

Blade went into a shallow dive, reaching out with one set of talons and catching hold of the mare’s hoof. She swung her up onto her back, ignoring the yelp of pain from her foreleg and the sudden increase in weight her wings were complaining about, instead focusing on getting them away with as much speed as possible. Frost’s bow floated up next to them, wrapped in the mare’s magic, and Blade put on a burst of speed, aiming for the distant figures ahead of her in the air.

The rumble increased, building to a roar that made it sound as if the world itself was coming apart, and she slowed, turning so that she could see. Behind them, the Necropolis was falling from the sky into the ocean, coming apart in great, stone slabs as it fell. It hit the surface of the sea with a spray of foam that quickly became a roiling storm, water splashing high into the sky as the massive stone fortress buried itself in a watery grave. The last thing to slip beneath the surface, still faintly glowing as it vanished into the foam, was the titanic crystal that had been at the very center, its tip still skyward. Blade waited for a moment as bubbles drifted up from beneath the sea, breaking apart the foam and splitting the incoming waves. And then that too ceased, the sea once more returning to its tranquil state, as if the Necropolis had never existed in the first place.

Blade turned away and headed for the shore, settling her wings into a gentle glide.

It was finished.

Count of Laws Broken: 0
Total Laws Broken: 111
Damage Value (In Bits): 1,402,934
Total Damage Value (In Bits): 1,794,021

Chapter 35 - You Know How to Reach Me

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Canterlot - Some time later

“—and, well, that’s it.” Blade sat back as she finished her story, her wings tucked at her sides, waiting for one of the two immortals to respond. Both of them were eyeing her with unreadable gazes, though periodically throughout her tale she’d seen their eyes flicker towards one another, or towards one of the two crystalline keys sitting on the desk before them. They had listened patiently, only interrupting her telling of events to ask to ask after clarification of details or key moments, but other than that, the pair had been silent through her entire report.

“Interesting,” the smaller of the pair, Princess Luna, said, her voice filling the office just enough that Blade had no doubt that her voice was perfectly audible to everyone but the Guard outside. “I must admit, when Hunter finally confided in us that he had hired you—” Blade let her eyes slip to the side of the room, where both Hunter and his commander, Captain Song, were sitting at attention by the wall. Or at least, as “at attention” as Hunter was capable of being. He’d slouched slightly over the course of her tale, though his own outbursts of surprise had been silenced early on by a glance from his Captain.

“—I must admit that I expressed reservations,” Princess Luna finished. “But to face down an immortal such as Anubis, and live? Truly, your deeds have been the thing of legend. Few are those who could say that they have faced such a foe and walked away unscathed, must less boast of his death with such a rousing battle!” The Princess’s wings flared out slightly, but then she frowned, leaning forward over the desk, and Blade had to fight the instinct to shy back as their eyes locked. “And you are sure you killed him?”

“Yes.” She answered quickly and without hesitation. “Frost here put an arrow through his heart.” She motioned towards the mare, who was sitting quietly in the back of the room, wearing a battered, peach-colored dress that didn’t really mesh with her coat. Then again, you’re not wearing anything formal, and the ice queen is, so who are you to judge if she wants to wear that?

“I see,” Princess Luna said, a sad look coming into her eyes as she turned towards Frost. “My condolences on the loss of your brother. I am sorry that you were forced to be the brunt of ill-will centuries removed from you.”

“As am I,” Princess Celestia said, her multi-hued mane shifting as she spoke. Her voice was softer than her sister’s, less tempered, but no less full of intelligence and capacity. “Believe me when I say we truly thought Anubis defeated. I am truly sorry, Frost, for your loss.” There was a weight behind both of their words, a feeling of genuine meaning.

“Thank you,” Frost said, the first words she’d spoken since she’d entered the room. She gave them both a quiet nod, but other than that, the mare was silent.

Princess Celestia seemed to understand, offering a small nod in return before turning her eyes back towards Blade. “Now,” she said, her voice full and rich. “While this does explain many of the intelligence reports and news posts that have been coming across my and my sister’s desk, it does not finish the full story. The Necropolis is at the bottom of the sea?”

“In pieces, Princess,” Blade said, nodding. “Either it was never meant to have those crystals pulled out, or it was as a result of Alchemy’s blowing a good chunk of the bottom away, but it came apart as it fell. The whole thing’s under a kilometer of water now. And even if someone could find it and take the keys back, I doubt there’d be much left that would work.”

“Good,” the Princess said, nodding. “And what transpired afterward?”

“Well,” she said, shrugging. “There’s not much to tell. We patched ourselves up as best we could, got Hain’s leg set, and made our way towards civilization. From there we worked our way north until we could arrange passage aboard a passenger transport headed to Equestria—”

“All entirely legally, I’m sure,” Princess Celestia said with a faint smile, and Blade paused, unsure as to how to react. Sure, there had been the moment where she’d threatened a few minor officials to let her and the team through without further delay, and there had been that local constable who’d somehow pegged her and the rest of the team as the trio in the papers that had torn up a guard station in Sheerwater, but … She smiled. She knew how to answer the Princess’s statement.

“As legally as we travelled here,” Blade said. There was a loud laugh from Princess Luna that jerked everyone’s eyes in her direction, and the Diarch covered her mouth with her hoof as she saw their gazes, hiding a wide smile.

“Apologies,” she said, her eyes twinkling. “Continue.”

“Well, that’s pretty much it,” Blade said, shrugging. “We made our way back here as quickly as possible, aside from a short stop to get our claws on some ingredients for a bone-mending potion for Hain.” And for my ribs, she thought, though that had been a secondary concern. Still, three broken ribs had made flying hurt. “Getting past your border wasn’t too hard now that I—I mean we—weren’t on such a tight clock.”

“Yes,” Princess Celestia said, her expression moving towards disapproval. “I am familiar with the last time you crossed Equestria’s borders. At Northgait? Thank you for not feeling the need to hijack another train in your eagerness to get here.”

“In my defense, Princess,” she said, trying to give her a confident grin. “Your Guard did have an arrest warrant out for me over my last job that was conflicting with my current one. I had to follow the trail while I still could.”

“I understand,” the Diarch said, her wings shifting ever so slightly behind her back. “And thankfully, no one was badly hurt during your escape, though there were some wounded egos, and the destruction of a very expensive steam engine to account for, as well as damages to Northgait itself that could have plunged us into a difficult political situation with the lands beyond it.”

“Well—”

“Thankfully,” the Princess continued, lifting one hoof into the air. “The situation beyond the Crystal Mountain Range has changed, and now that I and my sister have heard your story, some of the reports we’ve been receiving from the Ocean of Endless Ice are beginning to make more sense. All of you may be interested to know that two weeks ago my sister and I received a declaration of sovereignty from an organization called The Inter-city Council of the Ocean, a representative government now responsible for the nation of the Ocean of Endless Ice—though they did warn us that the name might change in the coming months.”

“Still,” she continued before any of them could speak. “Your tale does a great deal to alleviate our curiosity at some of the individuals whose names were written on the missive, including their current head-of-state, a certain Chancellor Titus—”

From behind her, Blade heard Frost give a small snigger.

“—and their military commander, one Fleet Admiral Arcwing.” At that, Blade lifted an eyebrow, and out of the corner of her eye she could see Hain doing the same. If Arcwing had taken up the title of Fleet Admiral, that meant that he could no longer be the Patriarch of the Icewing clan. Which meant Teardrop Eyrie had a new leader.

“This news, combined with your story—and your reactions,” Princess Celestia said, her eyes ever so slightly glancing towards Frost. Apparently her barely contained laugh hadn’t been as hidden as she had hoped. “—give us hope that the proposed promise of renewed stability on the Ocean has at long last been one in good faith, and one that may see a more prosperous and more peaceful establishment of relations between our borders.”

Blade wasn’t quite sure how to respond to the Diarch’s words. “Um … you’re welcome?”

“We will, however, be charging you for the destruction of the steam engine.”

“Ah. Right.” There wasn’t much she could say about that. “Yeah, that’s … that’s fair.” I’ll just cut it out of my share so none of the others take the hit for it.

“In addition to giving us more information about events to the north,” Princess Celestia continued without missing a beat. “Your story also will be of great relief to the Griffon Empire, who have been at a heightened state of alert for the last few weeks. Now not only do we know why, but we can reassure them that it was taken care of. And don’t worry,” she said, her tone warm. “We won’t inform them of your involvement.”

I would think not, Blade thought as Princess Celestia nodded towards her sister. That was kind of the point of this to begin with, right? Send someone off to places you could go that you had no knowledge about? She glanced over at Hunter, eyeing the light-brown pegasus as he gave her a nervous grin. He’s still got his job, so I guess they were alright with it.

“And, to our great relief, you have answered the question of where the last piece of the key went when it vanished from Luna’s study some weeks ago.” Princess Celestia reached out with one hoof, touching it gently against the side of one of the keys. “To add to that, you four not only thwarted that plot, but did something that it appears even my sister and I were unable to do: Stop Anubis.” She let out a sigh, a faraway, almost sad look coming across her face. “He always was a clever one.”

She shook her head, the look vanishing as her long, multi-colored mane rippled behind her. “Regardless, you’ve performed a great service, not just for Equestria, but for all the nations.” She gave Blade an expectant look.

“Um, thank you, Princess,” she said, giving her a respectful nod. “We did what we could.”

“Nay,” Princess Luna said, shaking her head. “You have all done far more than was expected of you, at great cost to yourselves.”

“Which is why,” Princess Celestia said, smoothly taking over. “We would be happy to pay you not just the original agreed-upon amount—extravagant as it was—” Once again eyes flickered towards Hunter, and the light-brown pegasus seemed to shrink a little in his seat. “—but twice that, for services rendered.”

Blade felt her jaw go slack. Twice? Four-hundred thousand bits?

“Minus the cost of the steam engine you destroyed, along with a few medical bills,” Princess Luna said, though there was a calm smile on her face as she said it. “Additionally, we would like to extend a full pardon to you in particular, Blade Sunchaser, clearing you of your crimes in Equestria.”

She blinked. Both eventualities were unexpected. But …

“Actually, your highness,” she said. “If it’s all the same to you I’d rather not be pardoned for those crimes.” Both Princesses’ eyes opened wide, and she saw Princess Luna’s wings flare out a bit in surprise.

“Thou—!” the Lunar Diarch began before composing herself. “Did I mistake my own ears, Sunchaser? You want the charges against you to stand?”

“Actually, yeah,” Blade said, smiling at the looks of surprise on both their faces as she spoke. How many could claim they’d surprised the Diarchs of Equestria? “No offense, I’m glad for the offer, but—”

“But whatever for?” Princess Luna asked, a look of confusion on her face. “If you do not accept this pardon we have offered th—you ... Then you will still be sought after by our own Guard within the borders of our nation!”

“I know,” she said, her grin widening a little. “But I’m a wandering claw, and you just can’t buy reputation like that. Having you guys after me for some job I did—and then escaping to do another job? That’s dedication that looks good for me. Tar—” she caught herself before the word slipped out. “I mean, wow. It’s the kind of thing that’ll let my employers know I’m serious.”

“But it may also connect you with employers of less-than-virtuous intentions,” Princess Luna said, frowning. “Would that not be sullying in your eyes?”

She shrugged. “It’s not like I have to take those jobs. But it keeps me informed, and respected on some level, which means I’ll probably be able to find work I do approve of pretty easy. Besides, eventually there has to be an upper limit on how long Equestria will bear a grudge against me.”

“True,” Princess Celestia said, though Blade could see that she didn’t quite like the idea. “And it is your choice. But it does bring us to another question, that of what you intend to do now?”

“Well, I can’t speak for the team,” Blade said, glancing back at each of them. “But me, personally? I’ll probably relax for a few weeks, count my scars, and then start looking for a new job.”

“If you’d like, you could stay here,” Princess Celestia said. “And that extends to each of you. For a time or, if you wish, permanently. It’s the least we could offer, after several of you sacrificed your homes in order to bring Anubis’s plans to an end. Or this cult’s,” she said, and Blade saw a look of sorrow cross her face at the mention of the Order. “I am glad to hear that the beings behind that darkness and evil have finally been put to rest.”

“Well, it’s a nice offer, and I can’t speak for all of us,” Blade said. “But me? I think I’m going to make my path elsewhere.”

“Very well.” Princess Celestia gave her a nod. “In that case then, I must admit there are one or two final pieces of your story I am curious about.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. Such as the fate of the expedition that had been uncovering Anubis’s weapon?”

“Ah, that,” Blade said, nodding. “I checked that out, actually. The official story in the paper was pretty trimmed down—” Probably to avoid panic and check for confirmations, she thought, “—but it did say that thanks to the intervention of a ‘heroic’ airship captain out on a flight over the desert, none of the members of the team were lost, though there were a number of injuries. Past that?” She shrugged. “I’m sure they’ll spend some time answering question after question before getting back to their lives—or what’s left of them, since their work just quite literally flew off.”

Princess Celestia looked at her sister, both of them lifting a solitary eyebrow, and Blade had the distinct impression that there was going to be a quiet inquiry at the Canterlot Museum later that day.

“Well then,” Princess Celestia said. “Then there is one other element of your story that we wish to inquire after. You mentioned a name that my sister and I have heard quite a bit recently. The Violet Heart?”

“Oh. Yeah.” She’d deliberately skimmed that part of her story—along with a few others—leaving out both the particulars of how she’d tracked the contact down and the details of the deal she’d struck. “Them.” She could guess what they were going to ask. “Sorry, but I don’t think I’ll be much help there. I only went through local sources, and I wouldn’t talk about those even if you asked.”

“I see,” the Solar Diarch said, pressing her lips together. “I suppose that answers that, then.”

“I take it you have an issue with them, then?” Blade asked.

“No, not as such,” Princess Celestia said with a shake of her head.

“We are, however, quite curious as to their methods and capabilities,” Princess Luna cut in. “They have managed to build quite the network across a number of nations, and yet we’ve not been able to determine who they are or what purpose, if any, they have in mind for the knowledge they’re amassing.”

Blade smiled. “If you’ll forgive my being blunt, it sounds like you’re both running afoul of something one of my old commanders said about governments not liking rival intelligence groups that could outdo them.” The Diarchs exchanged glances once more, and Blade smiled.

“Regardless,” she said, “don’t look to me to for help there, unless you want to hire me.”

“The thought has crossed my mind,” Princess Luna said, her eyes drifting to the keys. “Especially in light of the competence you’ve displayed in recovering these keys. A position on the Dusk Guard itself wouldn’t be remiss for your skills, nor any of those on your team, I think.”

“Thanks, but no thanks,” Blade said, shaking her head. “I prefer being a free agent.”

“I presumed that would be the case,” the Lunar Diarch said, smiling. “And to be perfectly honest with you, I think that’s a place where some are meant to do the most good. After all, we all need some space to stretch our wings, do we not?”

“Now then,” she said, turning her head slightly before Blade could respond and looking at her sister. “Unless you have any further questions, sister, I believe that we can move onto the second part of this meeting.” Princess Celestia nodded.

“Very well,” Princess Luna said, bringing her attention back to Blade. For a moment, she felt like the Princess was looking right through her, ageless wisdom and experience seeing right through her and staring at her very heart. It was all she could do to keep her ruff from flaring outward in surprise. It was almost like she was a fledgling again, fresh out of her egg and looking up into the eyes of her parents. There was knowledge and age she couldn’t fathom in those eyes, something beyond mortal reckoning.

But it was kind. Warm, if a little stern. Completely different in every way from the flat, cold look she’d seen in the eyes of Anubis.

“I shall see to it that our financial office prepares your payment,” Princess Luna said, and the look faded. “We can transfer the money to a specified account, or you may take it in cash, your choice. However, since either will require at least a few minutes to prepare …” She looked around the room, her eyes stopping on both Frost and Alchemy. “If it would be possible, my sister and I would like to speak to the two pony members of your party alone.”

Frost looked up, her eyes wide open in surprise and her jaw slightly slack. Her eyes darted from the Princesses to Blade, and she offered the mare a shrug. It’s your choice, she thought.

“Fine by me,” she said, rising from her seat and bowing slightly. “Should Hain and I wait outside?”

“That would be perfectly acceptable,” Princess Celestia said. “Captain Song? Lieutenant Hunter?” Both ponies straightened at the sound of their names, though Blade wasn’t sure how it was possible in the captain’s case. “You are, for the moment, dismissed. Good work.” Hunter grinned, while beside him Captain Song just nodded. “I’m sure you have other things to do.” Blade didn’t miss the twinkle in the Diarch’s eye as she said it. The meaning was clear. Go catch up with your friend.

Hunter and Captain Song—it was still strange to think of the large earth pony as a Bıçakların ustası—both saluted before turning for the door. Hunter, she noticed, had an extra kick to his step, and she turned to follow him out the door.

“So,” she asked as soon as they were out, the door closing behind them. “How’s that marefriend of yours?”

Hunter’s eyes widened a little. “You just took out—!” His jaw snapped shut, his eyes flicking to the Royal and Night Guard standing at attention by the door. “You just went through all that, and you want to ask about my love life? Crikey, Blade.”

“I’ve gotta stay grounded somehow,” she said with a smirk. “And since you said ‘love life,’ I guess it’s going well?”

“Yeah, it is,” he said, smiling. “She’s a dinkum friend, all right.” Then his face soured slightly. “And apparently I’m not.”

“What?”

“Blade, I almost got you killed with that job.”

She shrugged. “So? I like a little excitement. I’ve almost died before.”

“Yeah,” Hunter said, his wings drooping slightly. “But this job I got you into. I feel crook, Blade. If you’d died, that one would have been on me. I meant for the job to be easy.”

She frowned. “Oh?”

“Well, yeah,” he said, adjusting his hat. “I knew we’d made a mess out of your last job … and you know I felt bad about how that all turned out—”

“Hey, Hunter,” she said, resting a pair of claws on his shoulder. “I didn’t like it either, and I kind of took the job for the same reason, all right? So as long as we both feel equally bad about it, well …” She sat back on her haunches, extending her talons out towards him. “Let’s let bad winds be old winds, all right? I felt pretty rotten about it too.” More than you know actually. “But you know, I wouldn’t want one bad job to come between us. Friends?”

For a moment Hunter looked at her outstretched talons, and then he smiled. “Friends, and rapped to say it.” His hoof came out, and they both shook on it. “Bad winds behind us …”

“And onward to new skies,” she said, finishing the old saying as she dropped his hoof. “So, I saw that bit about the Crystal Empire in the papers. You have anything to do with that?”

He grinned. “If I did, you know that as much as I wanted to, I probably couldn’t talk about it, right?”

“Right,” she said, returning his grin. “Security stuff.”

He nodded. “Spot on. Couldn’t tell you a thing about what a hard yakka that would be. You know, if it happened at all.”

“Uh-huh,” she said, giving him a smirk. “And how’s the snow up there this time of the year?”

He blanched. “Oh, you don’t want to know,” he said. “Colder than old Greyclaw on a bad day.”

She let out a laugh at the mention of their old flight instructor. “That cold, huh?”

“Colder,” Hunter said, letting out a chuckle himself. “I tell you, I saw icicles there that—”

“I’ll bet the Ocean was colder.”

He paused, eyes narrowing as he stared at her. Then he shook his head. “No bet,” he said. “You might win, and I’ve learned my lesson.”

She grinned. “Still smarts, huh?”

“The bruises Cloudseeker gave me still haven’t healed,” Hunter said. “If you want to bet something, Blade, all I have to say is buckleys.”

She let out a laugh. “Oh come on, it wasn’t that bad.”

“I couldn’t leave my cabin for two days, Blade,” he said. “Two days! Cloudseeker had somebody outside my door every day! It made the rest of flight camp whonky!”

“Oh go stuff your head in a thundercloud,” she said, still grinning. “You know you were sweet on her.”

“Oh, yeah,” Hunter said with a roll of his eyes. “Right up until she mashed her hooves into a very sensitive area.” He shook his head. “Come to think of it, I’m starting to think that maybe I am even with you for this whole key thing.”

She scoffed. “Really. Didn’t you just say you felt bad for me almost dying?”

“Getting hit there is the same thing, Blade,” he said, shaking his head, a shudder running through his body. “Trust me, you just don’t understand.” He let out a laugh, and she joined in. It felt good.

“So,” she said, glancing down the hall in the direction of Captain Song and Hain. Both the pair seemed to be having a contest to outstare one another, and she wasn’t quite sure who was winning. “Before we get talking about what’s new, I’ve just got one question. You ever find out what happened to my old boss?”

“Mint?” Hunter shook his head. “No. She just disappeared. We’re still looking, but we’re not even sure she’s alive at this point.”

“What about Radiant?”

“She’s still in therapy,” Hunter said. “Getting better, but last I heard she had a ways to go. If she ever gets better, we’ve got a lot of charges to pin on her, but otherwise …” He shrugged.

Blade nodded. “Right. Just curious. So, happier topics. Your marefriend?”

“Thistle,” Hunter said, letting out a sigh. “She’s … something else.”

“She must be,” Blade said, noting the dreamy look in his eyes. “Why don’t you tell me about her? True … dinkum?”

Hunter let out another laugh, dropping onto his haunches in the hall. “Close enough,” he said. He sighed again. “Let me think … Where to start? Oh,” he said, clicking his hoof against the stone floor. “How about with how we met …”

Blade let herself relax, tucking her wings against her sides and Hunter began to tell her about their first “date.”

It was good to be done. But it even better to still have her friend.

* * *

Hain stared across the hall at the large, olive-green earth pony. He was older than the last time he’d seen him, a few more wrinkles about the eyes, but he was still the same pony. There was no mistaking it. And he was a captain now.

He wasn’t too surprised. There were, after all, only so many jobs for a pony like that to go around.

Still, he didn’t quite feel comfortable standing across the hall from him. That was a part of his life that was long gone. He had no right to speak, to open his mouth, to even acknowledge it. He was, after all, Hain.

But still, part of yearned to know, to ask …

“Hain,” Steel said, his voice breaking the ice between them. The earth pony gave him a polite nod.

“Steel,” he said back, returning the nod. “Been a long time.”

“Years,” Steel said. “You showing up here today was the biggest surprise I’ve had in a while.”

For a moment he said nothing. Then he shrugged. “I’d imagine it was as big a surprise for me as it was for you. You’re a captain now.”

“And you’re a mercenary.”

“It happened.”

“So do a lot of things.”

The silence stretched again between them, and Hain wanted to tap his talons across the floor. He didn’t want to broach the subject, it wasn’t right for him to, but …

“Does your brother—?” Steel began, but Hain shook his head, and the earth pony caught himself. “Right. The whole ‘exile’ thing.”

“Even if I believe what was done to me wasn’t entirely correct, I still have to bear the consequences of my own actions,” Hain said.

“It doesn’t mean it’s right,” Steel replied quickly.

“No,” Hain said, agreeing. “But nonetheless, I have my honor, and I will carry it until the end.”

“I know.”

Again the silence between them. Nearby Blade and her friend were laughing about something, and he was glad her focus was elsewhere. He didn’t want to her to see what he was about to do.

“However …” he said, and he caught the twitch of Steel’s ear. “Sometimes what I am required to do, and what I can do, may be two closely related things, not specifically unrelated to one another.” It took the captain a moment to parse his meaning, but then he nodded.

“What do you want to know?” Steel asked.

“I ... How is he?” he asked. “You know, after …” He couldn’t refer to it. Not directly. Not just because his exile technically forbid him to, but because the memory of not being there for it still broke his heart.

“He’s doing fine,” Steel said. “He was a little broken up after the funeral, but he’s strong.”

Hain smiled. “He always was.”

“Yeah. He misses you, though. So did they. I don’t think any of them ever truly stopped thinking of you as family.”

“No,” he said, shaking his head. He couldn’t either. “I’d imagine not.”

“He works here now,” Steel said, and Hain felt his tail twitch in surprise. “Right here in Canterlot.”

“He emigrated?”

“No,” Steel said, shaking his head. “He’s a bodyguard down at the embassy. He’s a blademaster too, now.”

Hain nodded. “I’d heard that. As are you.”

“Yeah,” Steel said with a smile. “We still get together every so often for a match, now that I’m stationed here.”

“Good.” There wasn’t much else he could say. “I’m glad to hear he’s doing well.”

“Anything you want me to pass onto him?” Steel asked.

Hain glanced up the hall. The Guard outside the Princesses’ office was opening the doors. They would be leaving soon. “No. I wouldn’t … I wouldn’t want to open old memories. Please, don’t tell him I was here.” It hurt to say it, but it would hurt worse if his brother knew.

Steel nodded. “I understand.”

He returned the nod. “You always were a good friend to my little brother, Steel. Thank you.” The earth pony captain smiled as the door to the Princesses’ office opened, Alchemy and Frost walking out, the Princesses themselves right behind him.

It was time to leave again. He gave Steel a curt nod, and then, for old time’s sake, a salute. Both were returned.

Then he turned away, walking up the hall, his talons clicking against the stone as Blade rose to meet the Diarchs.

Part of him hurt, but another part of him felt good. He hadn’t had any news about his little brother in decades.

It felt good to know that Primetail was doing well.

* * *

“As promised,” Princess Luna said, passing over a large, heavy pair of saddlebags with her magic. “Your payment. In Equestrian Bars and a little change.”

Blade took it, grinning as she felt the bars inside clink against one another. She wanted to open it right then and there, pull each bar out and feel the weight of her payment in her claws … but that could wait.

“So,” she said, glancing at Alchemy and Frost, her brain doing a slight skip at the sight of Frost’s dress. It still seemed odd, though Frost seemed determined to make it work. “You two going to stay here then?”

“We had a nice talk,” Alchemy said. “But no.”

Frost nodded. “At the very least, we have a payment to divvy up,” she said. “So wherever you’re going, I guess we’re following, at least until we talk it over.”

“Same for me,” Hain said, walking up behind her. There was a look on his face she couldn’t quite place, though it was buried beneath a couple of layers of stoicness. “We can work it out later.”

“Right,” Blade said, looking back up at the Princesses. “Well then, I guess this is goodbye for now. Unless, you know, you need my services again for something.”

“And what if we do?” Princess Celestia asked, lifting one eyebrow. “I can’t deny that it may be a possibility in the future. How will we contact you?”

She grinned. “Talk to Lieutenant Hunter, there,” she said, tossing the saddlebags across her back. “He’ll know how. After all, we’re friends. We’ll be in touch. That or blow something up. That’ll get my attention,”

“Uh, Blade,” Hunter said as Princess Celestia’s eyes went wide.

“Relax!” she said, bowing before the two Princesses. “Trust me, if you need me again, you know how to reach me. You just have to have the winning bid, and judging by this payment …” She shook the bags, the bars clinking against one another. “You do,” she said, winking. “So, until next time?”

Celestia nodded. “Until next time, Blade Sunchaser. May the sun and moon shine on you.”

“As long as you both keep them there,” Blade said, clicking her talons once more as she looked down at the rest of her team, and then at Hunter and Captain Song. “See you boys both later,” she said as she turned and began moving down the hall, Hain, Alchemy, and Frost all at her back.

“I’ve got a payday to celebrate.”

* * *

It really does look pretty awesome, Blade thought as she watched the city of Canterlot slide by beneath the airship. They were over the city outskirts now, and the sun was out, glinting off of the snow-capped rooftops and spires and turning the city into a diamond encrusted marvel as they passed by overhead. She could even see a few early Hearth’s Warming decorations going up, colored lights and festive streamers hanging from doorways and along streetlights. Yup, definitely a pretty awesome place. There was the sound of someone clearing their throat behind her. Anyway.

“So!” she said, turning and looking across the deck of the small, high-speed courier. Hain, Alchemy, and Frost were all standing around in a circle, eyes on her as the ship’s autopilot carried them away. There was still some equipment stacked on the deck, crates that hadn’t been loaded yet, and what little gear they had was piled against the gunwale. “What do we do now?”

“It’s a good question,” Alchemy said. “Got any ideas?”

“A few,” she said, giving them a nonchalant shrug as she took a few steps forward, their payment clinking on her back. She pulled the saddlebags off and opened them, tossing them out onto the deck. Heavy metal bars, each composed of gold, silver, and platinum, spilled out across the deck “We could split the money like agreed, four ways, me minus my damage fees, and go our separate ways.”

“Or?” Frost asked. She was still wearing her peach-colored dress.

“We could keep the money, bank it, and see what other jobs there are out there for us,” she said, grinning. “I gotta be honest, I like working with you guys, and I think we make a pretty good team. There’d be a lot of work out there for us if we stuck together, and let’s be frank: It’s work we’re all well-suited for. What do you say?” She took a deep breath, her chest swelling as she looked at each of them.

“Do I get a say in the matter?” a shaky, unfamiliar voice asked.

“What?” She turned, eyes widening as she spotted the original owner cowering against the gunwale, his wings tucked tightly at his sides.

“Oh,” she said. "Sorry. I forgot to throw you overboard.”

“Oh,” the small pegasus said, a look of relief on his face. Then his ears stood straight up. “Wait, what?”

“You’ll be fine,” Blade said as she wrapped her forelegs around his chest and lifted him into the air. “You’ve got wings, the snow is nice and soft, and we’re barely outside of the city.” She pulled her forelegs back, preparing to toss the pegasus off the side. Then she paused.

“By the way, how much do we owe you for the ship?”

“It cost me eighteen thousand bits?” he said, his voice squeaking.

“Right,” she said. “We’ll give you twenty. Look for the impact craters.” There was a faint scream as she threw the pegasus over the edge.

“Right,” she said, turning back to the rest of the group, and flashing them a grin. “So, a team? Otherwise we need to figure out who’s paying for this thing.”

“I could do a team,” Alchemy said, nodding and giving her a smile. “I think we could do a lot of good out there.”

“Right. Frost?”

“I could use some scenery that isn’t ice,” the mare said, grinning. It was almost eerie. “Travel the world, get rich, take out some bad guys? Sounds like my kind of job. And it’s a step up from piracy.”

“Great,” Blade said, grinning as she turned to the last member of their team. “Hain?” For a moment the old griffon just looked at her, and she felt a twinge of worry. Then he nodded.

“Sure,” he said. “But we’ll need a name.”

“Perfect!” she said, clapping her talons together and letting out a laugh. “Somebody toss that poor pegasus two of those ten-thousand bit bars, and let’s get this team moving!” She took another glance at the now distant city of Canterlot. There were dots in the sky, Royal Guard taking wing as they came after the hijacked airship.

“Got a destination in mind?” Alchemy asked as he moved towards the cabin. Behind him, Frost tossed two of the Equestrian bars over the side.

“Pretty much anywhere but here,” Blade said with a grin as she took one last look behind them. “I have a feeling the Royal Guard might disagree with us not waiting a few days for tickets.”

“Anywhere it is,” Alchemy said, stepping into the cabin and taking up a seat by the wheel. Underfoot the rumble of the engine increased, the small airship picking up speed. “We’re on our way.”

“Good,” she said as the Hain and Frost stepped into the cabin behind her, closing the door. “It’s time for the rest of the world to meet us.”

“And we are?” Frost asked.

Blade grinned. Hunter and his whole crew are going to love this, she thought.

“Who else?” she asked as the airship soared through the sky. “It’s perfect name for all of us. Like Princess Luna said, we’re practically already there.” Around her the team looked on, expectant faces waiting, and she opened her beak.

“The Dusk Rogues.”

Ahead of them, the open sky beckoned.

Final Tally
Count of Laws Broken: 3
Total Laws Broken: 114
Damage Value (In Bits): 18,749
Total Damage Value (in Bits): 1,812,770

Author's Notes:

CREDITS

Dedicated to all the MLP: FiM fans whose music, art, and writing I've enjoyed since I discovered the show ...

And also to the fans of the Dusk Guard, who commented, chatted, and helped recommend my fic to others.

SPECIAL THANKS

Alpha Readers
Jorlem
Seirs
Raptra

Cover Art
Midnight Sonare

Readers

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CAST AND CREDITS:

The Dusk Rogues

Blade Sunchaser—Fierce and dedicated, wandering claw, red-feathered griffon warrior. Leader of the Dusk Rogues.

Hain—Stoic and silent exile of the Griffon Empire. Tactical genius.

Frost Glimmer—Dangerous and cold ex-pirate unicorn with a skill for creating icy sculpture.

Alchemy—Skilled, earth pony potions crafter who also possesses abnormal powers and abilities.

Barnabas—Deceased. Adopted older brother of Frost. A minotaur with a mighty stature … but a larger heart.

The Inter-city Council of the Ocean

Chancellor Titus—Former pirate captain-turned political leader. A mighty minotaur with hundreds of skirmishes behind her … not all of them martial.

Fleet Admiral Arcwing—Former Patriarch of the Teardrop Eyrie. Now commanding Admiral of the Ocean of Endless Ice.

Friends, Family and Associates

Aeliana—Deceased. Older sister of Barnabas and Frost. Died fighting for the peace she wanted so badly.

Kalos Arcrider—Son of Fleet Admiral Arcwing. Captain of The Seeker.

Merry and Pippin—Twin unicorns who live in Cragtooth. Though bereft of their horns, though that doesn’t stop them from getting themselves—or one another—into constant trouble when not on duty.

Captain Skylark—Captain of the airship Free Skies. Hails from the southeastern part of the Empire.

Captain Moonlit Wings—Captain of the ice dredger vessel The Long Night. Later joined the the Council Fleet and retrofitted her vessel to help hunt down Bloodhooves.

Bloodhooves

Captain Pyre—Leader of the Bloodhooves and completely obsessed with fire.

Ennuis—A low-level minotaur captain whose mouth is always competing with his ego to be the largest—and most memorable—part of him.

The Order of the Red Horn

Lord Sagis—Ruler of the Order and a powerful unicorn mage who values power above all else.

Tripwire—Leader of the shadows and infamous assassin.

Cell—An amoral unicorn scientist who believes in the pursuit of knowledge over all other things.

Subtle Eye—One of the Order’s most dedicated deep-cover spies.

The Lost City Expedition

Dusty Tomes—Archeologist earth pony and one of the leaders of the Lost City Expedition. Married to Stal.

Stal Wildwind—Archeologist griffon and one of the leaders of the Lost City Expedition. Married to Dusty.

Slate—Grey diamond dog serving as an earthmover for the expedition. Took over after her cousin Coal had to depart unexpectedly.

The Immortals

Anubis—Immortal charged with watching over the jackals and teaching mortals of the afterlife. Fashioned himself into a ruler of the dead after The Breaking. Skilled at creating ethereal circuits, known for his cunning.

Celestia—One of two immortal siblings charged with watching over ponykind, and personally tasked with controlling the movements of the sun. Fought against her fellow immortals during The Breaking in honor of the Creator’s wishes. Current Diarch of Equestria.

Luna—Second of the two immortals tasked with watching over ponykind, and personally responsible for the movements of the moon and tides. Also monitors dreams. Fought alongside her sister against her fellow immortals during The Breaking. Also infamously became Nightmare Moon. Current Diarch of Equestria.

Ahuizotl—An almost comical immortal with a supreme knowledge of natural fauna. Stayed neutral during The Breaking and has become an almost comical villain in the centuries since then—though how serious he is about it no one can say. Some theorize that The Breaking may have played some part in this.

Itzpapalotl—Immortal responsible for the virtues of Justice, Mercy, and Love. One of the most dangerous, murderous, and ruthless following The Breaking. Slain with great regret by Celestia and Luna.

Reus—One of two immortal siblings charged with watching over griffon-kind. Controller of winds, and ruler of the skies. Was the first to decide that the Creator was not returning and break from his assigned task. Later underwent a change of heart but vanished.

Kyr—Second of the two immortal brothers charged with protecting and guiding griffon-kind. Controller of storms and ruler of the skies. Fought in honor of the Creator during The Breaking. Vanished not long after his brother disappeared. Current whereabouts and status unknown.

Asterion—Guardian of the minotaurs with the ability to sense and manipulate deep-earth metals. She died during the breaking.

Zawati—Guardian of Zebra-kind responsible for the virtues of peace and knowledge. Slain by Itzpapalotl shortly after The Breaking.

Er-Error-ror:NOT A COMPLETE LIST
FILE TERMINATED

Unknown

The Violet Heart—???

CHARACTER THEMES

Blade Sunchaser’s Theme
Short Change Hero
The House That Dirt Built

Hain’s Theme
Credits
Red Alert 3 Original Soundtrack

Alchemy’s Theme
Adventure is in the Air
OverClocked Remix

Frost’s Theme
K-Pax For Evermore
OverClocked Remix

Anubis’s Theme
Revival
Halo 4 Original Soundtrack Vol. 1

In Memoriam - Frost and Barnabas
Solace
Halo 4 Original Soundtrack Vol. 1

OTHER MUSIC

Aliens
Pylons
Belly of the Beast
Halo 4 Original Soundtrack, Vol. 1 and 2

Take Me Out
Franz Ferdinand

Fyrestone
Lynchwood
Borderlands 2 Original Soundtrack

Building Thunder
Gears of War 2: The Soundtrack

Gears of War Reprise
Gears of War: The Soundtrack

Once more I offer a special thanks to all those who have read and love The Dusk Guard Saga. Thank you for all your patience, enjoyment, and your praise. It’s been an amazing journey so far, but there’s still a long road to go, and I look forward to sharing that journey with you. Thanks for reading, and I look forward to seeing all of you again for the next adventure.

My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic is owned and licensed by Hasbro Entertainment. Neither The Dusk Guard Saga nor its writer are affiliated with Hasbro in any way, nor does it lay any claim to the original characters or setting pioneered by Hasbro Entertainment. The characters created herein that are original to this fiction are hereby acknowledged as awesome, and totally the by-product of some amazing thoughts. No part of this work is for profit, and it cannot be resold, as it is a straight fan-work for the entertainment of those who peruse it.

The Dusk Rogues will return ...

Epilogue - The Rise

View Online

Somewhere

The cave was dark, but not dank. He had to admit he was a little surprised. Long ago, when he’d had the occasion to visit some of the diamond dog burrows, he’d found them to be repulsive places, foul holes in the ground. Little better than hovels, filled with foolish creatures content to wallow in their own filth as long as they possessed a steady supply of baubles. But these caverns were different. Ordered. Clean. Well-maintained.

Perhaps the diamond dogs then too had evolved along with the outside world, even though it seemed unlikely. But the proof was there beneath his feet. Roughly-hewn but clean tunnels. Disciplined and stalwart groups of dogs, moving up and down the caves periodically in organized packs, leaders barking orders at them as they carried out important tasks. Even the armor his two escorts were clad in was far beyond what he’d expected to find. In fact, it was almost impressive, if a little crude. But even he could see that the spikes, the razor sharp edges … all of them were placed in positions where they would be useful, rather than detrimental. Someone had done good work.

Perfect, he thought as he continued down the corridor. Exactly what I need.

A lance of pain shot through his side, and he had to fight not to let it show on his face. His body was still working to fix most of the damage he’d suffered during the fall of the Necropolis. Had he been an ordinary being and not an immortal, the beating he’d taken surely would have killed him. As it was, he had come close. Too close for his own liking. The world had apparently changed more than he’d realized while he’d been away.

But that was fine. He could adapt. He always had. Mortals had moved up in the world. But so could he. All he needed was time … and a plan.

And he had both already. Once again, the world thought him dead. And to be fair, he almost had been. He’d spent almost a full day sleeping off his injuries once he’d made it to shore, and he’d spent another week foraging for food as his body fought to rebuild itself. Almost dying had been unexpected.

But not unplanned for. Always have a backup, he told himself as his guides reached an intersection, turning without hesitation and moving in a new direction. Always be ready to make a step back.

He was doing that now. The diamond dog he’d spoken to at the dig had been hesitant to tell him what he’d wanted to hear, but once he’d told her what he’d already put together from the reports, and applied a little of his own pressure … she’d caved and given him what he’d needed. A location.

Another lance of pain shot through his side, and he glanced down at the half-healed wounds on his body. Part of him wanted to wait, to let the rest of his injuries heal, but he’d waited too long already. If he waited much longer, the moment could be lost. Besides, he had part of his staff still, pulled from his body after he’d made it to the shore. The crystalline fear-runes he’d built into it still worked, as did the blade. He had what he needed.

It wasn’t often that a diamond dog acquired military aspirations as this current leader had, but when they did, there was always an opening for those with bigger plans in mind. Diamond dogs followed the strongest—the biggest, the richest, the meanest, whoever could defend their horde from others. If someone was tough enough, they could challenge the leader of a tribe and take control. And, if they were tough enough past that, maybe another tribe too.

This one currently had at least twenty-one tribes already under his control. Anubis couldn’t ever recall hearing of such a mass of diamond dogs gathering together before—and more appeared to be coming in every day as word went out.

Not only that, he thought as they passed by a large, painted sigil on the wall, with text in the diamond dog tongue written beneath it. But he’s actually controlling them quite well, too. No infighting, lots of order. A far cry from the barely civilized mongrels he’d known two thousand years ago.

They passed by another painted sigil, again with the same text. He’d asked one of his guides earlier what it had meant. It was their name, they had told him. “The Golden Horde.”

Interesting.

He could hear a distant whisper now, a rumble of voices and shouts as they neared the arena. They’d assembled as many as they could to watch him fight their leader. Perfect.

It was a good plan. Find the diamond dogs, challenge their leader for command, beat him, and take control. Simple, but then again, so were diamond dogs.

Simple, but industrious. And he’d need that for what would come next. He wasn’t quite sure what that was going to be, but he knew that whatever it was, the power crystal that had fallen with the Necropolis would have to be at the heart of it. Almost two thousand years' worth of magical power, all wrapped up in that single stone.

If he had that, he could do a lot of things.

Their path angled downwards, and they passed through a doorway before moving into another, smaller hallway. Even then, he didn’t have to duck his head. Whoever had made the tunnels had been planning ahead.

There was a set of stone doors ahead of him, and he could hear the rumble of the crowd past them. His two guides took up flanking positions on either side of the door, their long arms at their sides. One motioned to him, jerking his head for the immortal to enter.

Still not much on ceremony, Anubis thought as he stepped forward and pushed the door open. They’ll be time for that later. He would relish the looks on their thick faces when he was in charge.

The arena was massive—much larger than he’d expected—the ceiling stretching up into darkness above him. Massive spotlights had been set up around the edges of the arean, bathing the entire area in a white glow. He took a step forward, his foot barely sinking into the grey sand. Classic.

It was hard to make out the stands from where he was since they were dark, but his eyes adjusted and then widened as he took in the number of diamond dogs looking down at him.

Horde is right, he thought, smiling. There must be forty or fifty thousand of them in here. And all of them, he noticed, were wearing armor.

Impressive. He looked to the other side if the arena, where a pair of stone doors identical to his own stood waiting, and then lifted what was left of his staff into the air. Let them know I am ready, he thought. By blade or fear, the diamond dog leader would fall.

There was a grinding sound as the doors behind him slid shut, and the rumble of the crowd increased.

Then it stopped, silence falling like a fog at some unseen signal. Then, on the far side of the arena, the doors began to grind open. A rumble shook the ground as the diamond dogs, as one, began to stomp their feet.

Very impressive, he thought as the far doors slid open, a pair of diamond dogs in gold-leaf armor stepping through. The stomp of the crowd picked up speed, coming faster and faster and faster, shaking the earth like some all-encompassing heartbeat.

Then the leader stepped out, and Anubis nodded as the crowd roared, the sound sweeping back and forth across the arena like a wave. The diamond dog was certainly an impressive figure, even at a distance. He looked to be at least several heads taller than his escort, though Anubis was familiar enough with visual trickery to recognize that the newcomer’s guards were shorter in order to make their leader all the more imposing. The crystalline armor he was wearing was unusual, and probably not that effective, but the dark, almost smokey shade added to his appearance, making him even more eye-catching. It had even been designed to make his squat, bulky figure look even more muscular than it probably was.

The crowd roared again, cheering madly, and the figure looked up at them, regarding them for a moment before bringing his gaze down to stare at Anubis.

Yes, Anubis thought, smiling. Face me.

The figure took a step back, raising one crystal-armored hand into the air, and Anubis could see spiked edges around the outside. He’d have to be careful and not let himself be careless. A single bad hit from one of them could make him bleed, and that wouldn’t do.

The dogs needed to see him as more than a mortal. More than what their leader was. Or had been.

The figure closed his fist, and the crowd went silent. Then, with agonizing slowness, he lowered his closed fist and extended a single finger at Anubis. The crowd began to stomp again, and the figure lowered his arm and began to stride forward.

I guess that’s it, he thought, hefting his broken staff and walking forward. No ceremony. Just violence. Good. It would make it all the more stunning when he crushed their leader in front of them.

He frowned. Something was wrong. The diamond dog was getting closer, but he wasn’t getting any smaller.

It wasn’t an illusion after all, he thought. He really is that big. In fact, he realized, the diamond dog was big enough that even he was going to look up at him.

No matter, he thought as they neared the middle of the arena. He could see the dog’s face now, jaws bared in a silent snarl. His face looked almost mashed-in, like something had pressed up against it and forced it back. It gave the figure an almost perpetually angry look.

Wonderful, Anubis thought as he eyed the dog’s thick muscles. A brute. Big, ugly, and angry. He lifted his staff. The dog was close enough now, the crowds stamping mixing with a sort of chant, a single word repeated slowly with each stomp. Time to fall.

Grey mist exploded out of the end of his staff, sweeping across the arena and around the massive figure. It paused, stilling for a moment as the mists rolled over it. Anubis smiled.

Then the dog did something unexpected. He lifted one hand in front of his face, sweeping the mists back and forth, his eyes watching as the grey mist faded. Then he smiled and stepped forward once more.

Anubis let the spell loose once more, more magic flowing down his arm and into his staff, through the crystalline lines he’d etched in the metal, following complex patterns he’d spent a decade deciphering, and then burst forth as a grey mist that rolled over the hulking diamond dog.

There, he thought as the figure stopped. Feel it! But there was already a cold chill of uncertainty in his gut, and as the figure stepped forward once more, he realized that something was very, very wrong.

“You wield fear.” The diamond dog’s voice was a hissing rumble, like two rocks grinding against one another as water flowed over them, almost a rasp but at the same time deep. “But it will not help you here.” The diamond dog was still moving forward, still moving with the same, impassive walk.

It’s got to be the armor, Anubis thought as he took a step back, dropping into a fighting stance. The crystal … it’s blocking the effect somehow. Seriously, is everything I have outdated now?

The dog was still coming. “You use it like a club,” he said. “You don’t understand it.”

He lunged forward, far faster than Anubis expected as the crowd roared, the chanting rising to new pitches. He jumped back as the dog’s fist slammed into the ground, and he could see sand kicking up around the impact under the force of the blow. Even worse, he could feel the ground shaking beneath his feet.

It was time to change tactics.

With a snap his scythe blade came into existence, and he backed away, dropping into a lower stance as the diamond dog moved for him again. All right, he thought. He’s fast, but he’s a bruiser. The fear doesn’t work on him, so you’ll cut his throat. Get in close, catch him off-guard. He’s not even in a ready stance, so as long as you strike when he’s off balance, it’s over. And then you can figure out how he didn’t collapse in a panic.

He waited, trying to ignore the chanting of the crowd. He needed to beat their leader. That would get them to shut up.

There! He lunged forward, ignoring the pain in his side as he brought his blade around in a tight, close arc, aiming upward at the dog’s throat.

Everything went wrong.

The dog’s arm snapped up, far faster than it had any right to be, fingers closing around Anubis’s arm and stopping it cold. Anubis shrieked as the dog’s muscles flexed, shattering the bones in his wrist and grinding them into one another. The staff fell from his fingers, slapping against the sand.

The dog twisted his arm, and Anubis dropped to his knees, feeling his hardened bone crack under the grip. His mind was screaming at him that it wasn’t possible, that no one, especially a diamond dog, could be so strong. His eyes slid to the arm, and it was then that he realized what he’d missed.

There was a resonance about the armor. Magic. Improperly balanced magic.

A hand wrapped around his throat, and he gasped as it lifted him into the air, bringing to eye level with the monstrous dog. He tried to strike back, but the dog’s hand twitched, and he clutched at his throat with both hands, gurgling as the beast’s grip tightened. The crowd began to chant louder.

“An immortal,” the diamond dog said, and its lips pulled back in a smile. “Fate has brought you to me, demigod.” he shifted, dropping to one knee as his free hand reached for something, and then he lifted Anubis’s broken staff into the air.

“An interesting toy,” he said, staring at it for a moment before letting it drop out of sight. “I’m sure my pet unicorn will find some use for it. As she will for you and your knowledge.”

“You—” Anubis said, fighting to get the word out. “You weren’t—”

“Scared?” the diamond dog finished. His grip tightening, and Anubis tried in vain to pull back the fingers. “No. You see, demigod, I know fear. And it has taught me the truth of everything this world is, and what this world will be.” The crowd was chanting louder, their voices shaking the very room as the diamond dog’s grip tightened even further. He was fighting for air now, straining to breathe, but nothing seemed to break the dog’s grip. He pounded against the monster’s arm, tearing his skin on the jagged armor, but he could feel his blows getting weaker.

“A world of fear,” the diamond dog said again as Anubis’s vision began to swim. The edges of the world were closing in around him now, everything narrowing as he fought for breath. “A world without the unneeded. Without you.” The dog’s hand tightened again, but it didn’t matter. Everything was blurring away fading. But Anubis still heard the dog’s last words. “A world without immortals.”

And behind him, their voices echoing across the arena and through his mind as everything faded away, came the chant of the crowd, a single word rolling over and over again.

“Kaan! Kaan! Kaan!”

END OF THE DUSK GUARD SAGA: BOOK TWO