After millennia of slumber, the ponies of Tambelon have awoken. For good or ill, they set their sights on the surface.
After millennia of sleep, a small herd of ponies awaken in the stony depths of Tambelon. As they reach for the surface, however, one might ask if they were left asleep for a reason.
A writing exercise more than anything else. This story consists of one hundred parts, each with no more than one hundred words (hyphenated words and contractions count as two words). Working on linguistic efficiency, I tried to create a reasonably interesting plot and a sizeable number of original characters in the space of ~10,000 words.
With all of that said, reader experience may vary.
The darkness in that forsaken town was old beyond reckoning – older than even the immortal diarchs who ruled over the surface world. Even when the three great tribes fought over a kingdom of ice and despair, only the eldest of unicorn sages remembered the city in darkness. The city outlived those sages; outlived each scrap of esoteric lore; outlived all memory of its existence.
The darkness was ancient and stagnant, undisturbed save for the passage of air through the labyrinth and mines. Without the bell’s magic, unfortunately, the stillness faltered after one hundred thousand years.
Tapper awoke, fatigue in her bones. The exhaustion was expected.
Her den was small and plain, like all slave dens. Today, she would eat, toil, and sleep… and maybe… maaaayyyybeee…
Listening for interlopers, Tapper removed the broken brick. Her locket was gone, replaced with black dust. Had somepony stolen it? In all of Tambelon, her locket held the only picture of the sun. Though seeing it in the darkness was impossible… she still missed it.
Stretching, she found that her chains were gone, replaced with more dust. Same with the door.
Nearly two hundred ponies milled about in the darkness, waiting in confusion and gnawing anxiety. Some ponies even whispered amongst themselves. Writ picked out Crimson Canary’s voice, dimly remembering the songs she once sang.
More than just food was missing, Writ noted.
The torches were all unlit or absent.
The heavy footfalls of taskmasters were missing
The morning bells had never chimed.
The fetters and doors were also gone, however, so the magical bells were unneeded.
Drawing on the confidence of a half-remembered past life, Writ spoke with authority, “Everypony, listen up!”
Crag rushed down ancient avenues, joining the adults in their search. While Writ had tried to dissuade him, Crag knew that the mine workers would never smell food… or the moldy clay of the golems… or much of anything that wasn’t soot.
Not that there was much to smell. So far, three dozen structures were empty… save for the dust. Sandy ran after Crag, panting as she struggled to maintain a light spell. Crag waited for his younger sister, staring at a newly illuminated structure.
The Incubator.
Wait… without the golem taskmasters… was Thrasher running free?
Granite led the ponies into the labyrinth, followed closely by his own two children. While many ponies would keep a hoof against a single wall, Granite didn’t bother. It would take weeks to get out that way. They would starve before reaching the surface, just as Master had planned.
Granite had a better plan.
Finding a barrier, Granite backed up and charged, spinning around to buck through the wall. Shards of volcanic glass cut his fetlocks but a passage was cleared.
“Be careful” Granite warned, smirking as he maneuvered through the hole.
The cave-in separated her from her family and the rest of the herd. There was no choice but to look for another path around. Hopefully, they were all right. Until then, she would be strong.
Left turn. Right turn. Straight.
*tap* *tap* *tap*
Sandy froze in place.
“Tapper?”
*tap* *tap* *tap*
“Tapper!”
Sandy broke into a gallop, following the echoing taps through the labyrinth.
Right turn. Right turn. Straight. Dead end. Try to the left instead.
Sandy charged blindly down the labyrinth corridor. Thrasher traced her – most likely her heartbeat – unerringly. While his legs were longer, the monstrous pony struggled with every turn. Even so, Sandy knew that it would only take a single…
…Dead end.
Thrasher closed in slowly, black ichor leaking from his jaw. Without warning, he pounce toward the filly like a wild cat. Running off of adrenaline, Sandy lifted her hind hooves and hammered them into the wall behind her as her father had earlier.
For once in her life, Sandy hoped that the ceiling was weak.
A cluster of eight unicorns maintained a perimeter of light. Within the perimeter, Granite sat with his head hung in shame as Crag tried in vain to extract reassurances from his father.
Canary, meanwhile, was singing a wordless melody into the darkness, a beacon to match the radiant ring of light put in place for the lost filly.
The other ponies rested, having walked for hours.
Granite raised his head as hoofsteps approached. The scout they sent must have… “Sandy!”
Injured but intact, Sandy was embraced even as the scout galloped back.
Thunderstruck stretched out her wings for what felt like the first time in years. Stifling a yawn, she took to the air as the others stumbled out of the cave. While she was rusty, flying was a skill that you never truly forgot.
Soaring through the air, Thunderstruck saw little that she recognized. A mountain or valley were familiar, perhaps, but the small hamlets were missing and even the plants were unfamiliar.
Ignoring that, Thunderstruck descended as Writ addressed the growing crowd.
“Spread out, Everypony. We need supplies. We regroup at sunset.”
Tapper and Canary walked across a field of foreign grass, experimenting with proper conversation as foals often played with fire. Canary was, in any case. Tapper was content to simply listen and smile.
“The surface is weird.”
Tapper nodded, smelling a nearby tree and trying to remember what trees actually did.
“What is the point of this grass?”
Tapper shrugged, giving up on the tree.
“Are we near the rock field?”
Tapper took a deep sigh and frowned, slowly shaking her head.
“Oh…”
Putting on a fake smile, Tapper pointed to a rabbit hidden in tall weeds.
The sun set over the empty fields as a hundred hungry ponies sat at the edge of a lake.
All things considered, Writ felt pretty chipper. Nopony had died moving through the labyrinth and they had found both water and food. Finding a replacement for the master’s ichor would be a challenge, though Writ recalled that he used to eat something else in its place.
Some sort of plant, perhaps?
At least they had found some manner of nourishment.
A dozen ponies were starting a bonfire near a sizeable pile of rabbit, fox, and chipmunk corpses.
“You’re pulling my pinions,” Thunderstruck stated between bites of rabbit.
“No. I saw it with my own two eyes,” Nighteyes insisted, “Right on the side of a mountain”
Thunderstruck hesitated. While Nighteyes was far from the sharpest Pegasus, he did have good senses. He was the scout who found the way out, after all.
“What are you girls talking about?” Crimson Canary asked.
“Nighteyes thought he saw a castle. On the side of a mountain.”
“I did!” Nighteyes reiterated.
“Well…” Canary started, “we could probably check tomorrow morning.”
“…Sounds good,” Thunderstruck decided, “I’ll tell Writ after blood testing.”
Crag was wide awake that night, contemplating his vacant flank.
Whatever had happened back in the labyrinth, Sandy had left with her talent mark – three black spear heads. It was a pretty useful talent, especially if any raiders were nearby.
Why didn’t Crag feel happy, then? His sister was alive, everypony was back on the surface, and blood testing had gone without a hitch. This should have been an amazing day… but it wasn’t.
Crag was always the brave sibling, running towards danger instead of sobbing over a pile of food like his sister. He deserved that mark...
As the sun rose the next morning, Writ and Granite watched as three pegasi took off in pursuit of some mythical castle. Golden Writ noted that his friend’s gaze lingered on Canary as she flew off… not that he would say anything out loud.
Everything was moving smoothly that morning, save for reports of shared dreams involving a dark blue blur that spouted gibberish. Odd, perhaps, but harmless. Seeing no new threats, ponies were sent out in search of food and housing materials.
“Well, Granite,” Writ started, “what did you want to show me?”
Crag awoke mid-morning, not that he had any reason to wake up. His dad refused to let him help the herd and there were no other foals near his age… except his sister.
Most adults were working, though his dad was nowhere in sight. The only “leader” still in the camp seemed to be Tapper, silently sitting under a tree. According to his dad, the Master removed her talking box when she fought back.
Walking up to the tree, Crag asked, “Can I keep you company?”
“We’re here,” Granite announced, stopping by an unmarked hillside a few miles from camp.
“And where is here?” Golden Writ asked, looking around.
“Look around carefully,” came Granite’s cryptic advice.
Writ looked around, taking everything in.
No structures. No ponies. No resources.
“Is this some game?” Writ asked
Granite shook his head, pointing a hoof towards distant mountains shaped vaguely like Saddlehorns, a river that passed between two hills, and a large fissure that ran through a third hill.
The art of raiding was far from dead. On occasion, the Master had used willing slaves to claim more slaves. With that said, Thunderstruck was clearly outmatched.
At a distance, she underestimated the size of the city. It wasn’t a shelter for a couple of clans or even a full herd. At least a hundred herds must have lived there. The castle alone dwarfed Tambelon.
So stunned was she by the gradeur that Thunderstruck smacked right into an archway, falling to the streets below and landing by a guard.
Sandy sat alone by the lakeshore, shooing away a small rabbit.
Run, Mister Rabbit. Run before my family eats you for supper.
While she had to eat like everypony else, killing animals had always seemed… wrong.
To her relief, the rabbit hopped off into the darkness.
Resuming her work, Sandy washed her mane, stealthily cleaned the bite mark hidden beneath her coat, and washed her talent mark on either flank. When receiving her True Name, purity meant everything. Even that bite… No.
Nighteyes watched the ritual as he flew lazy circles overhead.
While guard duty was hardly ideal, his coat blended perfectly into the night sky. Besides, working at night meant napping during the day.
Looking over the horizon, Nighteyes could see that thick forest to the north, the mountains to the south, and… were those birds? At least three dozen flying objects flew south towards the lake, evenly spaced and… wearing armor that glinted in the moonlight.
Recognizing what he saw, Nighteyes dived down just as the ritual was completed.
“Put out the fire! Back to the cave! Raiders are coming!”
Crimson Canary was shaken. Had been most of the day. Seeing San- Obsidian passing out sharpened glass flakes to the unicorns only drove home how terrible things were. The fire was gone, the cave was dark, and everypony was scared.
Looking across the crowd, Canary saw Granite walking up to her.
“Been a hard day,” he observed, “you okay?”
That simple question was the final straw, causing Canary to collapse into tears.
“It’s all my fault,” she sobbed, “I suggested checking it out. I should have gone in first. Thunderstruck… Thunderstruck…”
“Relax,” Granite gently whispered, “we’ll save her.”
Standing just within the labyrinth’s entrance, Tapper could tell that most ponies were distressed by the sudden return of the darkness.
For Tapper, however, things were different.
It was ironic, in a sense. After years of dreaming about the surface, she was almost glad for the return to the caverns. Out on the surface, Tapper was mute... useless. Surrounded by rocks, however…
…In the caverns, Tapper could sing.
Channeling magic, Tapper struck the nearest stone with her horn. Instead of a dull clink, a soft melody resounded throughout the cavern: a calming signal that everypony had long associated with stability.
Thunderstruck was… alive? Her head still ached… but that meant she was alive, right?
After crashing down, ponies had swarmed over her and carried her off to… a medical tent of some sort? She couldn’t quite remember her trip and most objects in the room were unfamiliar to her. That everypony insisted on speaking some imaginary language only compounded her confusion.
Wait… the healer just said something. Forcing her eyes into focus, she saw the healer holding a vial of her dark red blood. He looked concerned.
“What’s the big deal?” Thunderstruck asked, “It’s not completely black.”
Golden Writ kept a wary eye on the skies as the herd walked towards the northern forest. He felt completely exposed even while standing at the center of the herd, though there was little choice in the matter. Unless ponies wanted to start consuming random plants, there was nothing to eat.
When they arrived, there would be much to do:
Finding a clearing… Rebuilding the shelter... The rescue attempt…
The food situation had clearly grown dire since first leaving the tunnels and whether his dad liked it or not, Crag was going to provide for his herd. While he was intimidated by the dense forest, Crag continued setting up snares.
He only stopped when he thought he heard somepony crying. Investigating the source of the crying, Crag found… “Obsidian? What are you doing out here?”
His sister looked up at Crag, tears in her eyes, and he finally saw it.
A thin ring of discolored fur ran around her neck.
Crag snuck past dozens of sleeping ponies, making his way to the Elder Nightshade. She was the herd’s greatest healer, having earned her talent mark by halting her own infection. At least, that’s what his dad told him.
“Pssst… Elder Nightshade? Please wake up.”
“What do you want, you stupid, lazy colt?” she muttered, stirring from sleep
“Uh… what?”
Opening her eyes, Nightshade blinked, her features clouding over with confusion “…You’re not my little Nighteyes.”
“I’m serious. This town is weird,” Thunderstruck repeated.
Nighteyes grunted in acknowledgement, checking the next corner for possible sentries. The medical building (and five other buildings mistakenly checked earlier) were a real challenge, requiring a number of knockouts, a few hogtied locals, and a rousing game or two of “interrogation charades”.
“Did you feel that bed?” Thunderstruck asked, “Did you see that armor?”
“Can we fly now and discuss this later?” Canary asked, darting between shadows to avoid the eerily lit streets. Seriously, who was out that late?
While she didn’t look like a featherhead, whatever method Elder Nightshade used to halt her infection was far from perfect. When she smiled, some teeth were clearly fused together.
“When did this start, dearie?”
“In the labyrinth,” Obsidian admitted, “Thrasher got me.”
Nightshade nodded, humming to herself as she examined the small wound and the discolored fur. Crag couldn’t help but fret over what was going to happen. If Elder Nightshade could heal featherhead, maybe she could slow down a scaleback infection or keep bipeds sane or…
Elder Nightshade clicked her tongue, hanging her head in disappointment.
Granite was starting to wish that the rescue attempt had failed.
“…and they had these weird pokey things that took out my blood… ooh, and their windows had some cold, transparent stuff in them…”
Some of Thunderstruck’s observations, such as not speaking the same language, had some tactical value. Most of it, however, was a sad reminder that they had been gone for far too long.
“Oh, and did I mention their awesome spears?”
Granite inwardly cringed, imagining what forms of weaponry they had missed.
Tapper was not part of Nighteye’s scouting team. Neither was she on Snare’s hunting team.
She was simply a leader of the herd, leading through actions instead of words. If this forest was dangerous, better that it take an injured mare past her prime than anypony important. In fact, that was why she started tapping in the first place.
The forest was wild entirely untended. Through a gap in the canopy, however, Tapper could see smoke rising in the distance. A settlement, perhaps?
*tap* *tap* *tap* *tap*
A small bird rapidly tapped a tree, drawing her attention.
Nightshade frowned. Upon reflection, a certain filly had been absent at the previous night’s blood testing. Tonight, however, she was standing in line with her brother beside her.
Nightshade went through the motions of testing, already knowing what she would find.
Her father, outraged, made her try again… and again… and twice more.
Granite’s strong voice had faded into whimpers as the crowd buzzed with sympathetic whispers.
Nightshade wracked her mind for anything she could do, any solution to save the filly. Well, there was always one option. It was risky and materials were rare but…
Golden Writ sighed, sitting at the entrance of the fifth flimsy shelter that the herd was able to build. These ponies were accustomed to stone, not plants.
The good cheer from Thunderstruck’s rescue was short-lived. Ponies were still processing their long absence from the surface and the newest adult of the herd seemed destined to leave it already. Ponies were acting mechanically, moving without any purpose or emotion.
The herd was simply too far behind the rest of the world, lacking the tools and supplies to properly stabilize. Of course, there were ways to “obtain” supplies.
Nighteyes carefully worked his way through the undergrowth, ever wary of possible-
“Is there danger up there or do you like making me wait?”
“…All clear, Mother.”
Nightshade made her way into the clearing, carrying an assortment of disgusting plants in an improvised basket hanging from her barrel.
Seconds after she emerged, an odd, striped pony emerged from the other end of the clearing, carrying a number of similar plants in a proper woven basket.
Nighteyes watched as the two mares sized each other up, eyeing what the other had gathered.
With a few nods and headshakes, wordless barter began.
Adult or not, Crag had finally talked his way onto Snare’s team of hunters. Snare, while accepted as an adult, was only a few years older than crag and had once acted as the big brother he never had.
Now, Crag was learning how to properly hunt. Without wings for ambushes or a horn for weaponry, he had to fight tooth and hoof.
Crag was injured, bloody, and covered in feathers, the result of attacking a group of geese by himself at a nearby pond.
“Nightshade managed to barter with a local,” Granite pointed out.
“Did she get all of the materials she needed for her ‘cure’?” Writ sarcastically responded, “Did she secure the staples we need for the herd to survive?”
“No need to be like that, Goldie,” Canary responded. Thunderstruck and Tapper joined her in glaring down Writ.
Writ sighed, “Sorry. I’m just stressed out. Barter would be ideal but… what would we trade? Our freedom?”
Nopony had a response to that.
“…Tapper, you found a small settlement nearby, right?”
Tapper reluctantly nodded.
“No casualties,” Granite eventually declared, “in and out.”
Thunderstruck flew just over the clouds, taking in the hamlet below and gently swerving to avoid the flight paths of other pegasi. With luck, nopony would take particular interest in her.
The town was small and poorly guarded. While she lacked Nighteye’s senses, she couldn’t see a single guard down in town.
There was another castle, however, which raised some concerns. Thunderstruck was in no rush to be captured a second time.
There were no town walls, plenty of entrances, broad streets, and a network of alleys for setting up ambushes.
The settlement was practically asking to be raided.
Nighteyes removed the Stone-eye’s head, careful not to look directly at it. With one hoof, he reached into the pouch his mother prepared and sprinkled preservative powder over it. According to Snare, the effects of the gaze were temporary after death.
Even so, Nighteyes wasn’t going to test that claim.
Instead, he carefully scooped the head into a basket, giving him an even dozen.
Nighteyes strained to remember the next thing he was supposed to procure, though his memory was far from flawless. It was… uh… some sort of flower?
Obsidian continued working on her drawing, carving it into the bark of the tree with the black stones that… got dull rather quickly. No matter, she brought plenty from the labyrinth when she left.
Everypony was worried about her. She wasn’t stupid.
Even so, she made herself a promise. As long as she could finish her picture, she would be content with what she had done in her life.
No worries. No regrets. Just like mom.
She had to hurry, though. Every day, her magic got weaker. While she could use her hooves, they were constantly sore now.
Canary was enjoying one final evening of peace, watching the sunset. There was one pony that she needed to talk to, however, a pony who had been in meetings all day long.
“Granite,” she called, cantering to the workhorse as he reentered the clearing.
“Evening, Canary,” he responded, laconic as ever.
“Wanted to see how you were doing.”
Granite frowned, “Canary… I want you do know that I don’t want to-“
“I understand,” Canary interjected, “The herd… your daughter…”
“It… it feels like losing Amethyst all over again. I just…”
Canary embraced the weeping stallion, willing the world away.
Strategy meetings continues late into the night, though Canary never left Granite’s side.
Snare continued speaking to the raiders. While he was young for a leader, the unicorn was a practiced hunter and a passable strategist.
“Once the flight team drops the mandrakes, we’ll have a chance to run through. Save the blue powder and stone-eye heads for soldiers.”
The assembled ponies nodded in agreement.
“Keep yourself mobile and light. Take only what you can carry. As long as we support each other and stay smart, each and every one of us will feast tomorrow evening!”
“Celebrate the Ponyville Centennial in style,” Roseluck shouted.
Unfortunately, not many tourists were interested in something like a centennial celebration. Thankfully, town pride inspired the locals (and their coin purses) to more than make up the difference. Advertise a few flowers from the Everfree forest and everpony knew that they came from Ponyville.
Business was brisk, the weather was great, and the three ponies were thinking of getting some hay smoothies later that afternoon
Then the sky started screaming and the three mares crumpled to the floor.
The very first building she stormed had almost looked edible. After scaring off the family hiding within she had discovered a treasure trove of supplies. Soft bedding, metal knives, and cooking pots were just the tip of the iceburg. The back room even had some of the “sweet white powder” Elder Nightshade had been looking for.
Mostly, however, she was entranced by the best things she had ever tasted. Each one she ate made her feel more aware, more energetic and ready to fight. Did their warriors eat these?
Nighteyes regretted going after those flowers, even if they were useful.
Since touching them, his vision had become super clear in the night… and incredibly fuzzy with any degree of light… not that he’d admit to having any trouble.
Walking down the street and trying to look intimidating, Nighteyes saw six blurs move to intercept his path.
White. Yellow. Cyan. Orange. Pink. Purple.
They shouted out some gobbledygook that went right over Nighteye’s head. Nighteyes simply growled, hoping to scare them off. No such luck.
The six blurs started glowing as a rainbow quickly engulfed Nighteyes, boiling his blood.
Snare watched as a beam of rainbows engulfed one of his friends, causing him to scream out in agony. The hunter magically drew a pouch of blue powder right as a cloaked pony leapt from an alleyway, tackling the six aggressors, biting their overlong manes, and furiously bucking at any who dared falter.
The rainbow quickly faded as Nighteyes fell to the ground.
Quickly surveying the scene, Snare realized that the mandrakes had ceased their shrieks and that most raiders (himself included) were fully loaded with supplies.
“Everypony,” Snare shouted, his voice magically amplified, “We’re done here. Fall back.”
His body was bumping up and down, clearly draped across another pony’s back… though he couldn’t work up the energy to care.
The humming was familiar, however, a soft and tender voice that resonated deep in his memories. Opening his eyes, Nighteyes’ vision was still fuzzy.
A grey pony, the one carrying him, was hoofing some fabric to a black and white pony, a brown cloak with a few crimson blots. While the recipient sounded distressed or unhappy, the grey one continued on her way.
“Relax” the gray mare whispered, “stupid, reckless child…”
It was an old tradition, one that the Master had started in Tambelon’s depths. In the wake of a successful raid, slaves were unchained to celebrate for the evening as ancient words were chanted and offerings were burned. Even in freedom, it was their culture.
Alas, nopony had ever guessed the true purpose of that ritual.
The smoke from the offerings refused to rise, stealthily slinking across the ground. It travelled across forest and field, diving down through cavern and labyrinth and into the city of Tambelon.
Ancient bells chimed as an old ram slowly stirred and opened his eyes.
Obsidian had already been separated from the main herd. Soon, Crag feared she would be exiled altogether.
Walking into the clearing, Crag unloaded Obsidian’s dinner. She was eating more and more and almost all of it became muscle. Her tail was fusing, the discolored fur was growing, and her hooves were… splitting.
Crag sprinkled the poultice on the food before Obsidian could feast. With luck, it would help her remember him when… when…
Crag dimly remembered that his mother had loved everypony... even those who were no longer ponies.
It was only a matter of time before the ponies in town looked for the raiders. While scouts had reported skittish behavior near the forest boundaries, Tapper was far from surprised to find one searching through the forest.
If the stories were accurate, that yellow pegasus was one of the six who injured a scout. Her coloration was off… and her mane was shorter… but the talent mark matched.
Tapper struck her horn against a tree, channeling rapid bursts of magic that spread outwards through the root system. A cacophony of taps from every direction scared off the timid intruder.
It had been days since the raid, days since Granite had entered the camp, days since he had learned that his daughter was doomed. Every now and then, his thoughts darkly shifted to the wife he had already lost… to the son who surely resented him for wallowing in despair.
Snare frowned, taking a closer look. It was clear that something had fallen for the trap at one point. The small splatter of blood attested to that. Apparently, some sort of predator was learning to empty the snares before scouts could check on them.
Snare was tempted to shake up the retrieval schedule, to try outsmarting the “competition”. Then again, that would increase the odds of the hunters running into whatever canny predator had started competing with them. Some hunters had already reported feeling like they were being followed.
That realization kept Crag’s mind reeling as Obsidian devoured her meal. Licking her lips, Obsidian nuzzled against Crag, sniffing for signs of more food.
“No more for today day, sis.” Crag responded, his voice flat and emotionless.
To think that just days ago, Crag had resented Obsidian earning her talent mark… wished she had never earned it…
He suddenly felt sick to his stomach.
While Golden Writ and his father had ordered Crag to stay away from his sister, every shred of doubt had faded from his mind.
Standing at the edge of the forest, Canary carefully watched a distant stallion eating some sort of plant matter.
From a distance, Canary easily ruled out the possibility of the plant being a root, leaf, fruit, flower, or mushroom. Instead, it looked like grass. If Canary was right, she could eat plants as well… if she found the right type.
Canary groaned, trying to compare the distant grass with samples she had collected in the forest. The distance between them made it a maddening task.
If she got it right, however, the herd could stabilize. No need for further raids.
Resting in his tent, Writ sighed in delight as he prepared to write the first records his tribe had ever kept. He would have to thank whoever thought to grab ink and parchment from town.
The first order of business, of course, was gathering the four species of plants now known to be safe. Writ frowned, making a mental note to thank and chastise Canary again later.
Beyond that, they needed to investigate the fortified structure Nighteyes and Snare discovered in the forest, see if it was fit for habitation.
Granite scanned the surrounding forest for danger. Thunderstruck was in charge of the scouts so Granite was commanding the hunters. Together, they formed a protective ring around the camp.
Granite counted at least a dozen Twig-hearts darting amongst the trees.
“Snare,” Granite growled, not daring to turn his head, “Is everypony safe?”
“All ponies accounted for, sir,” responded the head hunter
Granite nodded, limping out towards the trees. Unlike pureblood ponies, twig-hearts never slept. He needed a false display of weakness to get them into the open.
She could smell their fear, instinctively recognizing the scent of faint soil and morning dew.
She snapped one up in her sharpened fangs, leaping out into the clearing even as her tail speared through another twig-heart. With a loud and viscerally pleasant “crunch”, the captive in her mouth was reduced to crunchy twigs.
A group of ponies stared up at her from the clearing, closing ranks and tensing for action. One of those tiny ponies, standing further out than the others, was standing almost directly underneath her. Its (his?) face was masked in shock…. confusion… recognition… horror.
After fighting off an unusually aggressive pack of twig-hearts, suffering a number of injuries and receiving the aid of a friendly stingtail, the herd had started moving to a defensive structure a couple of scouts had found. Another castle, so they claimed.
It was true that transferring injured ponies was difficult.
It was true that the castle hadn’t been searched for traps or inhabitants.
It was true that dozens of twig-hearts were howling in the distance.
The herd began its march towards potential safety, flanked by the hunters and the stingtail.
Crag slowly woke up on his shaky bed, trying to remember where he was. He could remember starting a long hike through the forest… he remembered growing tired after all of his sleepless nights… being unable to keep up with the others and…
Crag’s “bed” yawned, drawing his attention to the stingtail mane that he had been using as a pillow.
“Thanks, sis,” Crag muttered, yawning and looking around.
The herd had come to a stop right outside of an ancient castle. Everypony was standing still, however, staring at a group of six surprised mares who stood in the opening.
The hunters kept a wary eye on the six odd mares as the rest of the herd moved around them and into the castle. The mares, while currently nonviolent, clearly recognized them from the raid and were visibly agitated. Forcing their way inside did little to improve relations.
The blue one kept babbling aggravated gibberish.
The orange one kept trying to take back supplies.
The white one nearly fainted upon seeing the dirt they brought inside.
The pink one seemed… oddly happy to see them.
After talking things over with the purple one, the six mares followed the herd inside.
“The rainbow one will bring reinforcements.” “The town was weak, remember?” “What if they have allies?” “Can they understand us?” “Where did the pink one go?” “What do they want?’ “Can we just attack them?”
“Enough of this idle chitchat,” muttered an aging voice.
The assembled ponies watched as Elder Nightshade walked up to the outsiders, apparently talking to them. To everypony’s surprise, the ponies appeared to understand her and responded in turn. With her question answered, Elder Nightshade trotted back to the rest of the shocked group.
After hours of work, copious hoof pointing, and what amounted to a lifetime of frustration, the herd created a rough pidgin to communicate with the outsiders. While fewer than ten ponies in the herd spoke it, quite a bit had been communicated.
The white one, for example, had conveyed the lack of any need for battle.
Other things proved far harder to communicate.
A small team of ponies eventually arrived, carrying no weaponry but intent upon approaching injured herd members with small and unidentified tools. Thankfully, Thunderstruck recognized a few of those tools as medical equipment and diffused the situation.
Golden Writ sighed, facing the tall purple… unicorn? Judging by her wings, she had halted a Featherhead infection like Elder Nightshade… unless another strain had grown a horn on a Pegasus.
“We need black fluid,” Golden Writ repeated, “Drink. Stop sickness.”
Golden Writ had been on edge since watching healers extract blood from an injured hunter. Their blood was darkening… quickly. Thankfully, there had been no visible symptoms. Yet.
Once again, the unicorn offered her vial of ink.
Golden Writ groaned, watching Tapper silently laugh in the distance.
“She could have been planning something,” Snare insisted, glaring as the pink pony hung up “sinister” banners, served “suspicious” pastries, and… uh... well, she did bring a cannon.
“Hey, I’m right with you there,” Nighteyes agreed, “You don’t just hurt somepony and expect them to be your best friend.”
“Are you two still acting all suspicious?” asked Thunderstruck, breaking away from the celebration that most ponies of the herd were enjoying.
“Why shouldn’t we be?” asked Snare.
Thunderstruck raised an eyebrow and hoofed over one of the pastries.
An ancient ram channeled spell after spell, slowly coaxing his ancient bell back from the shadow world. Dozens of other bells had already returned, enabling lesser spells. The Ouroboros Bell, however, was the key to controlling ponies.
Cavern walls writhed and shuddered as golems slowly emerged
The ram paused as a lone twig-heart ran into the depths.
So… the pack had failed to retrieve his slaves.
No matter. He would start anew.
The ram reached out with his magic. Even generations after the initial infection, a disease could be made to remember its vector.
Crag was a warrior, riding his stingtail into battle in the morning light. Every few seconds, he tossed a stone at some imaginary foe or warned his sister of an ambush by the malicious trees… until he caught sight of somepony.
A vaguely familiar yellow pegaus was walking through the woods. Glancing in their direction, the shy mare… smiled?
Unlike his tribe, she was happy to see Obsidian. Walking over and greeting them, Crag was shocked to discover that Obsidian could apparently understand her. At least, she understood more than him.
Canary took a deep breath, treasuring the purity of the air up on the surface. After years of expecting any given breath to be her last, the mare was accustomed to a certain level of stress and knew how to keep it under control.
Excitement, meanwhile, was still relatively new for her.
“What did you just say?” Granite asked, tilting his head to one side.
“Scarcity asked if some of us want to visit the settlement!”
“…The settlement we raided?”
“Uh… yes?” Canary sheepishly responded.
“Sounds like a trap.”
“…Trapping us after giving medical care?” Canary retorted
“Dear Princess Celestia,” the solar diarch read aloud.
Celestia smiled, willing herself to savor the contact from her former student. Sadly, staying in touch was one more “friendship lesson” that the Princess of Friendship had yet to quite…
Celestia froze, almost dropping her teacup from her magical hold.
“Did she really…”
Blinking several times, Celestia read it again.
…Okay, then.
Princess Twilight Sparkle was apparently entertaining a herd of unknown ponies who lived in the Everfree Forest… but who were they? The nomadic herds of Equestria had settled down centuries earlier. Who had been hiding? Why? How?
Depending on how you counted, the herd had sent somewhere between three and five representatives to the nearby settlement. Crimson Canary, Golden Writ, and Granite marched in single file behind Scarcity, officially representing their group.
Behind them came Crag, an unwanted tagalong that nopony dared dismiss. Their lack of nerve, of course, was due to Granite’s other child, who Crag was currently riding. Nopony wanted to anger the stingtail and Granite realized that most townsfolk (save the yellow one) feared it.
With luck, Obsidian would dissuade aggressive actions.
Cresting one last hill, the settlement of “Pony-Town” came into view.
“They’re moving the clouds,” Crag remarked, staring up at the sky.
Following his gaze, Granite and Canary could see what the colt was talking about. While everypony knew that pegasi could touch clouds and move away rainstorms, Pony-Town appeared to have a specialized team that coordinated weather like a well-oiled machine.
Clouds were kicked into vapor as thunderheads were relocated, revealing the shining sun.
Canary and Granite sat down to watch the display, not noticing as Evening Twinkle led Golden Writ away. Sensing their attention, a rainbow-maned pegasus flew patterns through the air, giving them a show.
Crimson Canary was eager to explore all of Pony-Town. Granite and his family seemed content to sit in the road and watch the sky but… there was so much more to see!
Scarcity seemed to share her enthusiasm, following Canary with a smile on her face. Either that or Obsidian’s scent had been getting to her as well.
How to explore… If Granite were there, he’d suggest moving from the outside in. Supposedly, it lowered the odds of being ambushed. She recalled seeing a cottage surrounded by small animals earlier. Might as well start there… maybe grab some lunch.
Golden Writ smoothed back his greying mane, smiling at the bespectacled mare sitting across the table from him. Judging by her talent mark, a sealed scroll, he was dealing with a local official… and not a bad-looking one, either.
Of course, he was there for business. Evening Twinkle was probably there because she picked up some smattering of Equish in the past 24 hours, though she wasn’t alone.
“We live castle.” Golden writ explained, displaying his limited knowledge of their language, “You no want we live castle. You give supplies. We leave. No come back. No more fight.”
Flying Retreat was starting to get on Canary’s nerves.
Rolling her eyes, Canary pointed a hoof at a baby rabbit, a tiny little thing that nopony could possibly miss. Seriously, it was like… a bite… maybe two.
Yet again, Flying Retreat shook her head and exchanged a worried look with Scarcity. In turn, Scarcity began babbling in their language faster than Canary could follow.
“I just wanted a snack…” Canary lamented, hanging her head in disappointment as the ground shook and Scarcity continued…
…wait… why was the ground shaking?
Canary looked up just in time to see the stingtails coming.
Obsidian idly watched the skies, thinking the sort of thoughts typical of duller beasts.
Where should I hunt today? Will I go running again tomorrow morning? Is there a river I could drink from nearby? Obey me you worthless vermin.
Obsidian shook her head. Something was wrong. Something was horribly wrong.
Bring more slaves.
That voice… she knew that voice. No… oh no. She had to escape!
“”Stay close,” Granite shouted, drawing her attention to the rest of town. Dozens of stingtails were walking through town, grabbing ponies in their arms and running away.
Through a window in town hall, Golden Writ watched in terror as the stingtails invaded, as Obsidian threw off her brother and loomed over Granite.
Hunter or not, Writ refused to let a friend be harmed through his inaction. He ran out into the the hallway and towards the front door.
Two attacks in two days… and Obsidian only betrayed them when other stingtails attacked… There was a familiar pattern there, something that lingered at the edge of Writ’s memory and… Oh no.
Skidding to a halt by the front door, a blinding flash of light flooded the entire town.
Crag rubbed his head with one hoof, slowly rising from the ground.
The third thing Crag noticed was his father, prone but still in one piece.
Before that, he was understandably distracted by the horde of stingtails who fled from the settlement, a group now including his sister.
Before anything else, however, his eyes beheld the most glorious pony he had ever seen, a giant, winged unicorn with a pearly white coat and flowing mane.
“Are you all right?” Canary called, running to Granite’s side.
“Been better,” Granite started, “but what just happened here?”
Golden Writ paused, observing his audience in the ruined castle. If nothing else, the Master’s name had claimed their undivided attention.
“The beasts claimed new slaves from the settlement. The greatest heroes of their people, along with one of their great leaders, are willing to face our old Master on their own.”
At this, Golden Writ waved toward the seven ponies sitting by the castle entrance.
“Unfortunately, these ponies do not know the forces they face. While I am no hunter or warrior, I am willing to fight by their side. If you wish to stand with me, step forward.”
Reaching the cave was easy… almost suspiciously easy. Mobs of over a hundred ponies were a good many things but subtle was not was of them.
Peering into the labyrinth, Tapper caught her first glance of opposition: a stone golem. After sneaking a sly glance at Snare and the pony queen, Tapper snuck off to do what she did best.
It only took a single tap of her horn. Channeling magic at the proper frequency, the golem collapsed into pieces. There was a reason the Master had used… extreme measures on her.
Nighteyes navigated the labyrinth with ease, having marked his path on their previous travel. Actually… why was it so hard to get out last time? Hadn’t they gone out to raid towns before?
Before he could dwell on the thought, however, the group arrived in Tambelon.
A ruined city of stone was filled with golems, stingtails, and… somewhere… at least a dozen frightened captives.
Up on the central dias, however, hundreds of small chimes formed concentric rings around a giant bell that leaked black ichor… an Ouroboros Bell.
Beside it stood the plaguetwister… sire of monsters… the Master.
The heroes of the surface immediately leaped into action. The six of them glowed and lifted up into the air as their coloration shifted and their manes lengthened, preparing them to-
A single chime sounded from the dias, causing the ponies to collapse to the floor and start coughing as if every cold they ever suffered had suddenly returned.
Lowering that particular chime, Grogar smiled a sick, sadistic grin as he hung two more from his horns. Tilting his head, the dull chimes caught the attention of the golems and stingtails.
Even if the heroes had been incapacitated, the others wasted no time.
“Pegasi… RELEASE!” called Thunderstruck, signaling the other pegasi above to drop shrieking mandrakes onto the approaching manticores.
“Unicorns… FIRE!” Snare shouted. Two dozen unicorns launched stones toward the dias, knocking away small bells and aiming for…
YES! Someone hit the golem chime from Grogar’s horn, knocking it from the dias. Now he couldn’t… wait, the golems were still coming. No… they hit the wrong chime, releasing the hungry, disoriented stingtails.
“Come on Sister,” a young voice called out, “you have to fight it! I believe in you.”
Tapper took out yet another golem as she carved her way toward the Dias, Snare and Granite guarding her flanks from stingtails with wild bucks and feints. With his arrangement of chimes disrupted, Grogar could only sift through them as they approached.
Finally lifting one up, Grogar rang a hollow tone that reverberated through the halls.
Most of the herd dropped to the floor as only a few kept fighting. Some scratched at their heads as black fluid leaked from their ears.
”Forget,” whispered the voice in their heads, “Forget freedom. Forget thoughts of escape. Even better, forget to breathe.”
Nighteyes was losing altitude, grasping his final projectile.
”Give in. Forget” insisted the voice, “Forget as you always forget.”
“No,” Nighteyes muttered, trying to direct his descent towards Grogar.
”You have forgotten your way through my labyrinth. You have forgotten the sweet taste of freedom. You have forgotten-“
“Taste this,” Nighteyes shouted, tossing his pouch of blue powder directly into Grogar’s face. While his action succeeded in distracting Grogar from his spell, the powder didn’t blind him as Nighteyes had hoped.
Finally landing beyond the dias, Nighteyes looked back to see that Grogar was slowly expanding.
Nightshade had mixed thoughts about her son’s latest attack.
On one hoof, he stopped the voices and Grogar was far too large to actually manipulate his chimes at the moment. The golem chime had snapped off of his horn as the ram grew, causing what remained of his army to fall dormant.
All of that was good.
On the other hoof, however, Grogar was approaching the size of an adult “Star-bear” and no longer required any tricks. He was large enough to crush a pony underhoof. In fact, he was seconds away from proving that capability on her.
A pair of tiny hooves grabbed onto Nightshade as something large rushed past. Before she knew it, she found herself riding atop of a flying stingtail as Grogar’s hoof stomped down on empty air.
Looking towards Grogar, Nightshade saw dozens of Stingtails harrying him
“Nice try!” taunted Crag, grabbing his sister’s mane as he leaned and signaled for her to bank right. Crag was so busy watching the ram that he failed to notice the appearance of his talent mark: A roaring lion’s head.
While he didn’t notice, he wouldn’t have been surprised.
His former slaves had removed his ability to channel magic. So what? He was large enough to destroy them with a stomp. He was so expansive that that claws and teeth of stingtails felt as pinpricks on his skin. He was-
Grogar’s back collided into the cavern roof, reminding him that he was still growing. Crouching down, he found that his movement was awkwardly restricted.
Right on cue, Grogar noticed that the six outsiders from earlier were glowing with rainbow energy once more.
Then again, nearly a hundred other ponies were similarly speechless.
A series of thoughts ran through Thunderstruck’s brain, starting with ’We lucked out on that raid, then’ and ending on the thought on everypony’s mind.
Running through the crowd, Crag found his father wrapping his forelegs around Crimson Canary and… ugh, kissing.
Right as he prepared to run off, however, Canary pulled back for a breath and caught sight of Crag. While she smiled brilliantly, her face was redder than ever.
“Crag!” she shouted, “get in this hug, you little hero.”
Before Crag could object, his father wrapped him into the strongest hug he could ever remember receiving.
“Uh… how did I do, dad?” Crag asked.
“That was the bravest thing that I’ve ever seen,” Granite proudly responded, “Welcome to the herd… Ferocity.”
Golden Writ smiled. While things had been a tad rough in that conflict, nopony had died and the pony queen was tending to the wounded with Nightshade.
Meanwhile, the captives were being led to the surface by Nighteyes and Snare (long after the stingtails filtered out, of course) and Tapper was demolishing the last of the inert golems.
The pony queen had asked to meet with herd leaders. Before attending to that, though… Walking up to the dias, Writ eyed the large bell Grogar had left behind.
For the first time in weeks, Writ would partake of its soothing ichor.
Seven ponies walked through the ebon labyrinth in silence, led by the Princess of the Sun.
“What just happened?” one of them demanded, the ever-brash Rainbow Dash.
“I spoke with their leaders,” Celestia responded, “telling them what I know of their condition.”
“Did you know that meany-weeny ram?” asked Pinkie Pie, “Did Discord make that bell? Is this another lost part of your history?”
“Not quite,” came Celestia’s response, “I’m afraid that Grogar and his kingdom were far before my time… though I have encountered a few of his kind: corrupted necromancers bound to the shadow world.
P.S. What is a necromancer? I can’t find anything about them.
Celestia sighed, looking down at the letter. She should have known that her former star pupil would be curious. With most of her own response already finished, the Princess was tempted to ignore that postscript altogether…
…No. Twilight could be trusted.
Sincerely,
Princess Celestia
P.S. Necromancers are magic users like unicorns, channeling the power of life and death from the shadow world through objects like books, candles, daggers, and bells. Bells in particular are specialized for creating, controlling, and containing disease. Necromancers like Grogar were once called plaguecrafters.
Tapper approached the giant bell with reverence, joining the ring of unicorns around it.
“Are you ready to start?” asked Snare, clearly feeling the same apprehension that coursed through Tapper’s own veins.
Tapper nodded. As the only unicorn among the herd leaders, the pony queen had taught her the necessary spell. While she couldn’t talk to explain the spell, a lack of speech had never stopped the herd from following her lead.
Channeling magic through her horn, Tapper touched it to the ancient bell. As the others joined it, the bell creating a grand resonance that filled the entire cavern.
Celestia surveyed her domain from the castle balcony, focusing on the mountains that towered above Tambelon.
In spite of her response to Twilight, she knew that necromancy was not inherently evil. In spite of connecting casters with the shadow world, necromancy held the power to do great good.
Ironically, the Ouroboros Bell Grogar used exemplified this potential. Most Ouroboros Bells released secretions that could slow most afflictions. Further, the proper spell allowed it to place sick ponies into deep sleep until a cure could be found…
Looking over her domain, Celestia smiled. It was only a matter of time…
The land of Equestria was a land of great magic and grand opportunity.
From Manehattan to Applewood, from Canterlot to Neighagra Falls, it seemed that every town was filled in the endless bustle of activity. Destinies were discovered, true love was realized, and life went on as life is wont to do.
In one small community, however, things were different.
Resting under a mountain range, hiding beyond a maze of volcanic glass, the ponies of ancient Tambelon dreamt sweet dreems of freedom and wellness, of friends and love.