Daring Do and the Hand of Doom

by Unwhole Hole

First published 1st of July, 2018

Daring Do quests for a legendary artifact of unusual provenance...and unusual danger.

The Exmoori: a mythic race of ancient warrior ponies who, according to legend, once ruled Equestria not by use of magic but by unspeakable technological creations. All legitimate archaeologists, of course, are aware of the fact that the Exmoor ponies are nothing more than a hoax or fairy tale.

Other entities, however, believe they were very much real.

A pair of mysterious albino Pegasi arrive at the ancestral home of Doctor Caballeron, bringing with them images of a carving in the ancient language of the Exmoori- -and promising him riches beyond his wildest dreams if he can bring them the artifact it mentions.

Simultaneously, a young and discredited academic arrives in Southern Equestria, bearing an ill-gotten fragment of the same text. He presents it to none other than Daring Do, who sets out to prove his theories true- -and to recover an artifact of profound and unknowable danger.

Chapter 1: The White Twins

The castle stood atop a low, sloping hill, looming over the surrounding land at the pinnacle of the rolling plane as though it had been forced out of the earth itself. That design had probably been intentional on the part of its original creators: to display dominance and power throughout the region. Its builders, though, had long-since faded into obscurity, as had any claim of dominance that their creation had once possessed.

Its original purpose had been lost to history- -whether it had originally been meant as a distant redoubt of some ancient and vanished empire, or perhaps been assembled strictly as a seat of regional power over fertile land, or even once been a beautiful palace- -all of it had been forgotten. Now, even at a distance, it was apparent that the castle was now crumbling. Its façade was cracked and overgrown with thick vines, and several of the outer towers had been allowed to collapse. Its walls had begun to disintegrate, and any ornamentation it had been built with had eroded decades if not centuries prior. Yet, despite all of this, dim lights still burned in some of its empty windows, staring out like yellowed, aged eyes over the perfectly dark landscape.

The land around the castle had once been a verdant center of agriculture, perhaps even within the lifetimes of some ponies still living. Now, though, no one remained to tend to the crops; the land had been overgrown by low spiny bushes and other scrub plants that had crept in from the arid planes that stretched uninterrupted for hundreds of miles in every direction. Farmhouses and barns had fared worse than the castle; they had crumbled and collapsed, being reduced to piles of dry wood and rusted metal. Only decaying fences remained to mark the land that had once been the thriving homes of many.

Yet, curiously, the roads that ran through this town were far less decrepit than the rest of it. They were maintained and kept clear, and their surfaces bore tracks indicative of carts loaded with unusually heavy loads. All of these tracks led uphill: toward the crumbling castle.

Although the roads were still functional, the pair of dark-clad figures that approached the castle did not use them. They instead passed quickly through the fields, their path bizarrely silent as they both pushed through the scrub and spurge, causing it to move no more than if it had been blown by the mild breeze that swept over the land each night. They bore no lights, relying instead on Luna’s moon to guide their path, and though the pair progressed many meters from each other in silence each knew the exact location of the other.

Scouts had been placed- -largely gruff-looking earth-ponies bearing lanterns and stern but tired expressions. They patrolled, but not with particular gusto; the sun had only set three hours prior, but they were already beginning to grow ever more ready for bed in yet another temperate but warm Andalusian night.

The figures took advantage of this, converging from opposite ends of the castle and easily avoiding the understaffed controls. The henchponies had been lazy and ignored parts where the antiquated castle wall was still intact, neglecting to even consider the fact that two thirds of the pony population were capable of flight. Both of the figures were; scaling the walls presented no difficulty for either of them.

They moved swiftly through what might once have been considered gardens, but were now overgrown with weeds and dry, half dead trees that had been allowed to grow far too large for their dry environment. They provided cover, but their thorny branches also made motion more difficult. By far the worst obstacle, though, was the silence. Apart from the wind, there were nearly no sounds to cover the motion of two ponies. The gardens were long-dead; not a single bird or animal was present to fill the night with song or the haphazard rustling.

Within less than a minute they had breached the castle itself, the smaller of the two figures now taking the lead as they penetrated the long corridors within. Although they had entered through an abandoned portion of the castle near its partially collapsed section, it quickly became apparent as they moved deeper that the castle was, in fact, inhabited. In fact, the inside of many of the key hallways were of far superior quality to those of the outside. They were indeed old, but the imported hardwood floors had been maintained perfectly, and although the stucco in some places was cracked not a speck of dust could be found within the building. Most noticeable of all, though, were the decorations: as the air grew cooler, an extensive collection of artwork and artifacts became visible. There were paintings of every type, laid out with a distinctly organized pattern, as well as various statues on pedestals and under bell-jars. The two ponies moving swiftly through the halls took note of them but dismissed them as relatively inconsequential- -although the smaller of the two took note on the distinct irony of them being there.

Suddenly, the pair of them detected hoofsteps. In unison, they moved upward, climbing the walls until they were located in the high, dark corners at the top of the corridor. They did not break their pace, and instead stabilized their motion with their wings. Below, a group of unshaven, harsh-looking henchponies marched by, in the middle of a vehement argument about the best flavor of cheesecake. They did not look up, and the two intruders passed by them with ease.

The two black-clad ponies landed back on the floor as the group of guards passed into a perpendicular hallway that likely led to the kitchen. As the larger of the pair set his hoof down on the dry wood, though, a high squeak rang out through the empty hall. Nightingale floors had not been listed on the available schematics, nor would they have been expected in an Andalusian manor-house. They were a recent addition.

“Whoa,” said one of the voices down the perpendicular hallway. “Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?” said another.

“The floor just went off. Sweet Celestia, I bet it’s Rosebud. ‘On a diet’ my left rear hoof!”

“Come on, Gaillo, you know he likes to be called ‘Thorn’.”

“I’m not calling him ‘Thorn’. It’s stupid. I mean, come on! They guy’s got a giant rose on his rump! Talk about girly…”

One of the ponies came around the corner, holding his lantern out in front of him. In an instant, the larger of the two black-clad figures had crossed the span between them. With one blow, he struck the earth-pony in the neck, instantly knocking out both his wind and his voice. A second, hard blow to the space between his shoulder and neck sent him to the ground unconscious.

The pair of intruders immediately altered their plan, seamlessly integrating a new set of protocols and paths into their design without a single word. Both of them pushed into the small group of ponies and neutralized them before a single one could scream for help. Apart from that, though, they no longer bothered with stealth. Time was now of the essence.

Apart from the aberrant floors, the majority of the intelligence was correct. The pair swiftly reached their destination, and found it to be sealed by a large and heavy door. The larger of the two prepared himself to break through, but his superior silently signaled for him to stop before ramming it. She instead held out a large key she had retrieved from one of the numerous henchponies who now lay unconscious throughout the halls of the castle beneath various pieces expensive but gauche modern artwork.

She slid the key into the lock, turning it softly as the pair of them pushed through. The night and the castle along with it had grown cold; as they entered, a cold draft came with them, rustling their dark cloaks. Warm air escaped from within, bearing the smells of finely prepared food.

Several ponies were present the sparkly adorned dining room, but only one of them was eating. Several others stood by, seemingly watching: a pale blue mare with a short-cropped mane and an eyepatch, a massive looking ginger stallion with mutton chops, and several others. Although the two Pegasi took account of all of them, they had immediately dismissed all of them as irrelevant. Only the pony at the table mattered in the grand scope of their mission.

He stared back at them with almost the same intensity that they stared at him, except with a substantial but well-hidden level of surprise and contempt. He, like the majority of ponies he employed, were earth-ponies- -and he appeared just as threatening as all of them, if not more so. His dark mane had been greased and pushed back over his head, with only a small gray curl allowed to hang freely over his thick, pointed eyebrows. Though he wore a pressed collared shirt and an exquisite silken ascot, he did not seem to have bothered to shave, and had allowed dark stubble to grow over much of his face.

The stallion set down his fork and stood, his chair squeaking as it was pushed back across the wooden floor. “What is the meaning of this?!” he demanded- -not from the pair of Pegasi now standing before him, but from the ponies who stood behind him. They cowered at the sound of his raised voice. “After the expense, the trouble I went through to hire all of you! You can’t even permit me to eat a meal without interruption?! YOU!” He pointed at the stallion with mutton chops. “I put you in charge of security!”

“Boss, it’s not his fault,” said the blue mare with the eyepatch. “I set the patrols, I know they- -”

“Doctor Pontrancio Caballeron,” said the female Pegasus, reminding him that she and her associate were, in fact, still present.

Caballeron turned slowly, his expression changing back to a smile but the contempt and rage not leaving his eyes. “And you. You’ve clearly gone through a great deal of effort to bother finding me- -and to trespass on my land.” He gently placed one of his hooves on the table. He was wearing an extremely expensive wristwatch. “And as much as I detest being inhospitable to my guests, I’m afraid I’m in no mood to entertain. I have work to do. I have some restaffing to manage…”

The various ponies winced, looking at each other nervously and nearly in a panic, mentally questioning which one of them was going to be fired.

“Your wristwatch,” said the female Pegasus. “It has no hands.”

Caballeron laughed and smiled, dismissing the strange observation with all the grace of the aristocracy he was descended from, even if, like his ancestral manor, it had grown course and rude over time. Still, his eyes betrayed him. He knew exactly what she was referring to.

“Because it’s not a watch,” said the Pegasus. “It’s the shell of one. Containing a Phoenix Star.”

Caballeron’s eyes narrowed. “How could you know that?”

The Pegasus reached beneath her cloak and into a pocket of the armor beneath. She withdrew a watch identical to the one that Caballeron wore. “Because we had it removed last week.”

Caballeron’s eyes went wide and his head snapped downward as he stared at his watch. His expression fell as he realized that the one he was wearing- -and had been wearing- -was fake. That look of surprise quickly turned to one of fear as he came to understand the implications of the loss: that the Pegasus standing across from him was now the one pointing a Phoenix Star at him, rather than the other way around.

“How did you- -that’s not- -”

The Pegasus drew back the watch, and Caballeron flinched- -only to have the watch thrown with perfect accuracy into the bowl of custard that he had just moments before been planning to enjoy after his salad.

“Wha- -do you have any idea how much that costs?!” he cried. Then, as he picked it up and realized that the Star was still fully intact and operational, “…and how much damage this could do?”

“I do. To both questions.” The female Pegasus stepped forward. “But, curiously, I took account of the possessions you have in your house. All lavishly expensive…but so far, that Phoenix star is the only artifact with any antiquity I have yet witnessed. The rest is distinctly modern.”

Caballeron did not bother picking the watch out of the custard, not wanting to make himself seem desperate- -but knowing that it was within arm’s should he need it. Somehow, though, he did not find that fact as comforting as he should have. Regardless, he sat back down and chuckled softly.

“Curious, you say? I do not see how such a thing is so very strange. Tell me. Do I look like a fool to you?” Neither of the intruders answered. “I assure you, I am not. Would you expect me to live in a museum of dusty statuettes and moldering tomes? If you came to find me, you understand what I do, but not why, perhaps? What good would it do me to horde my wares for myself? Especially considering how dangerous many of them can be…”

“We know who you are. And what you do.”

“Then you have me at a disadvantage,” snapped Caballeron in response. “And in all honestly I am growing both tired and hungry. Whoever you are, you seem to have gotten into my home quite easily. I wonder if you find leaving as unchallenging?”

The Pegasus removed her hood. She was no one that Caballeron knew or knew of, with only piqued his curiosity further. Her coat was white, as was her mane, and unfortunate combination that was only worsened by her remarkably striking red eyes. When she had removed her hood, the stallion beside her had moved in almost exact unison. Apart from being a stallion, he was identical to her in every way.

“Is that supposed to be an introduction?” sneered Caballeron. “What, do you not have names?”

“We do not,” said the female. “Nor would you need to know them if we did.”

“Now you’re just trying to sound mysterious.”

“We are representatives of an anonymous businessman with a substantial interest in collecting exceedingly rare artifacts.”

Caballeron smiled and sat back in his chair. A great deal of the tension went out of the room, even if much of it still remained. A thin black, white, and orange cat jumped onto the table. Caballeron stroked its back gently before allowing it to finish part of what was supposed to have been his supper. It had grown cold, and he no longer wanted it.

“So this is business, then. You are aware that there are proper channels for this?”

“We are. And we chose not to use them.” She made a subtle motion with her eyes and the silent male beside her responded immediately. He stepped forward, and all of Caballeron’s guards tensed, ready to defend him at any cost. The albino stallion did not seem to care, but he did not do anything that could be considered threatening. Instead, he reached under his cloak to where his saddlebags were located. From them, he withdrew a large, metal-clad binder. He carefully set it on the table and pushed it across to Caballeron. Caballeron took it, momentarily looking up at the unpigmented eyes that were staring at him without blinking. For just a moment, he caught the fact that one of them was different from the other- -and could have sworn that he saw its pupil narrow in response to the turning of many hundreds of tiny, red gears.

“What is this?” he said, taking the binder and opening it. Inside was a number of leaves of fragile paper with strange but extensive pencil drawings on them: hieroglyphs, ideograms, pictures and diagrams, and a text that made Caballeron’s blood run cold. It was a type that he had only managed to see once before, and that he had never thought that he would ever be able to witness a second time.

“We do not know,” said the female Pegasus. “We were told you would.”

“Of course I would,” grumbled Caballeron. “Unlike a great many ponies, ‘Doctor’ is not simply my first name. I worked very hard to earn that title.” He flipped through the binder. “These are rubbings, of a relief of some sort. Old ones.” He reached the end. The last of the pages, it seemed, had been torn out. The last remaining pages were spattered with a dark, rusty form of ink that Caballeron knew all too well. He looked up over the book. “And part of it is missing.”

“Retrieving these images entailed some…difficulties. This was all that could be recovered.”

The light blue mare with the eye-patch approached. “What is it?”

“It looks like…a book,” said the redheaded stallion, also pushing forward. The cat, looking up from its custard, hissed at them, and both jumped back and stood almost at attention.

“It’s instructions,” said Caballaron. “Or part of them.” He looked up at the albino Pegasus. “And…?”

“You are in the business of collecting artifacts for those of discerning tastes. I assure you. Our employer’s tastes are DISTINCTLY discerning.”

Caballeron chuckled. “Of course, of course! It is something I am so very familiar with! A fatal flaw in those among us with the means to have whatever they want at their slightest whim. When anything can be made for you, what meaning does any of it have?” He leaned forward. “It leads the wealthiest among us to seek out that which is irreplaceable, that which is exquisitely rare. That which only they can posess.”

“Real poetic, boss.”

“Shut up, Rogue! Can’t you see I’m trying to do BUSINESS?” Rouge fell silent and stepped back, as did the blue mare. She patted him on the shoulder, trying to cheer him up, as he appeared to be on the verge of tears. Caballeron sighed. “As you can see, good help is so very difficult to find. I am not, at the moment, one of such means. Alas, a simple workman. But I am very good at my job. And that quality comes at a price.”

“Of course.”

Seemingly without receiving a signal, the white stallion produced a tiny box and set it before Caballeron. Caballeron took only one glance at it and recoiled in disgust. He glared at the white mare. “Is this a joke?! Do you have even the slightest conception of what you are asking of me, how much work and resources go into funding an expedition like this? And you offer me THIS? Do you know who I am? I am Pontracio Caballeron! I have a PhD in applied archeology, and ANOTHER in ancient history, as well as a master’s degree in- -and also a master’s degree!”

“Open the box.”

“To see what? Some paltry sum of bits your cheapskate ‘employer’ things I’ll- -”

“OPEN. IT.”

Caballeron shivered, although he did not know why. Something in the mare’s gaze had grown cold, as if this whole affair was growing increasingly tiring to a pony who was far more used to much less civil business interactions. Caballeron did as he was told, and the mare smiled as she watched as Caballeron’s eyes grew as wide as saucers and as his face was illuminated by the glow from within.

“These…these…”

“Are four Crystal Empire crystalling crystals, all flawless-magnificent grade. Their value is approximately six times that of this castle and the land surrounding it. Each.”

Caballeron looked back down at them again, still unable to hide his surprise- -and his greed. “These- -these- -”

“Are a down-payment. Deliver us the artifact in question, and our employer is willing to pay you ten times the value of those crystals in whatever denomination you choose. Bits, gold bullion, liquid vod, griffon grubles if you want them. More than enough for you to rebuild your ancestral home.”

“My ‘ancestral home’ can collapse into Tartarus for all I care! With that much- -I’ll build a NEW one! On a beach, staffed entirely by beautiful zebra maidens instead of…well…you’ve seen what my current employees look like.” His eyes suddenly narrowed. “And what would happen if I simply took these crystals and never returned with this artifact?”

“Then good luck liquidating them without our help. Unless you would like to end up in Princess Cadence’s private dungeon.”

“I’ve heard it isn’t that bad,” whispered the mare with the eyepatch.

Caballeron did not even bother to chastise her. He instead stared down at the incomplete book of aged rubbings, and at the box of crystals.

“If that is not enough, we have been authorized to disburse several units of equipment at your discursion. As much as you need. Or employer will give you whatever you need to get the job done.”

“Enough that I suppose I am not to ask questions, I suppose?”

“Is that a problem?”

“No,” lied Caballeron. “As I said. My clients have the greatest discursion. And I am discrete. You have tasked me to find a specific relic, and that is what I do.” He looked up, and his dark eyes met her red ones. “And I am the very best at it. You can consider it a deal.”

“Excellent.” The white stallion stepped back, returning to the doorway. The mare, though, walked forward. A cold smile had crossed her face, one that had no sign of emotion and made Caballeron feel deeply uncomfortable. “On behalf of my employer, thank you. And, before we go, one last gift. To bolster your trust in us, I suppose. Here.” She threw a manila envelope onto the table. Several pictures partially slid out- -pictures of a pale blue mare with yellow eyes.

“What is this?” asked Caballeron, picking up the folder.

“That mare,” she said, pointing at the one standing behind Caballeron, “is an agent for Committee of Research and Unusual Threats.”

“What?!” cried the mare, jumping back at the accusation. “What, no! You get over here, whitey, I’ll give you some nice blue color ‘round your eyes for a lie like that!”

Caballeron looked up from the dossier and stared at her harshly. “Hold her,” he said.

The others obeyed absolutely. They grabbed her, holding her tightly. She sruggled somewhat, but mostly turned her large yellow eye toward Caballeron, pleading.

“Boss!” she cried. “Boss, you know me! I’ve been working with you for two years! The jungle- -you remember the jungle? When I helped the guys pull you out of quicksand after Daring- -”

“We do NOT mention HER name here,” hissed Caballeron. He put his hoof to his brow and tried to regain his composure. “What is this, then?” he threw the dossier at her feet. Pictures of her spilled out, as well as information and documents that no pony could possibly possess. Caballeron shook his head, and then, of all things, laughed. “Striker, Striker…you know I am not an unreasonable stallion. I took you off the street, a starving little girl…or so I thought.” He reached out and tore off her eyepatch. The eye underneath it was golden and perfect, just like the other. “This organization,” he said, “runs on LOYALTY. Do you ever wonder why I never hire ponies smart enough to replace me?” He shook his head. “And you know what we do to ponies who are disloyal here.”

Striker stiffened, and dropped the act completely. She knew she had been found out, and her expression hardened. “You won’t make me talk, Caballeron.”

“I don’t intend to make you talk. In fact, it’s better if you don’t. Or else they’ll get into your mouth.” He glared at the henchponies who were holding her. They had grown pale, knowing what they were about to do to a pony who they had thought was their friend. “You know what to do.”

“R- -right, boss. We know.”

Caballeron sighed. A headache was already starting in his head as they pulled the blue mare away and as others measured some ropes to tie her with. Hopefully their skill with knots had increased; their record with binding mares successfully was abysmal.

“Well,” he said at last, turning back toward the table. “As much of a blow as this is to my feelings of security, I suppose I should thank you…”

He looked at the door, and saw that while it was open, the two albino ponies had vanished. Sitting in the chair where he had just been was a zebra in an orange dress, crunching on an apple with surprisingly long and pointed teeth. Her blue-green eyes flicked to Caballeron.

“Herr Doktor,” she said. “They have departed. This was no gift. It was meant to be a distraction.”

The two exited as easily as they had entered. Caballeron’s threat, it seemed, had been empty. In fact, departing was even easier, as the pair chose to use the front exit. As they walked over the cracked cobblestones of the main drive, a sound caught the stallion’s attention. The rush of wings drew his attention upward, and as he looked into the massively overgrown but still somehow dead and decaying trees, he saw what the source of the sound had been. Hundreds of crows filled the trees, perched on the dead branches and watching with sickly, yellow eyes in silence, observing the black-clad white ponies passing beneath them. As if they knew.

“Sister,” he said, not taking his eyes off the crows. “I do not like this.”

“Neither do I, brother,” replied the mare. “But this is the way it has to be.”

Chapter 2: The Professor and the Knight

Little seemed to move quickly in the Get Out Inn. The air was hot and heavy, and had there been even the slightest hint of humidity it would have been completely unbearable- -but the dry heat of Southern Equestria combined with the slow, lazy turn of the ceiling fans overhead created a climate that ponies could take shelter in.

The entire environment seemed to be lethargic and slow to change. Few ponies came here, but the ones that did tended to be either regulars or the rough sort that preferred anonymity. On the far side of the dark front room, a group of ragged and scarred individuals were quietly betting chips of glowpaz on a card game as they passed around a salt lick. Across from them on the edge of the bar, an ancient, balding griffon was telling stories about some half-forgotten war to a group of ponies that seemed to care substantially more about their cider than whatever it was he was trying to say. In the center, near the couches, and elderly tourist had fallen asleep once again with his newspaper on his face; the edges of it curled up as he snored softly. The innkeeper, Trotsworth, watched over all of it without caring terribly much as she slowly polished a glass. She preferred days like this, when it was quiet and orderly. It was why she had emigrated to Southern Equestria in the first place.

The door to the inn opened. Light momentarily flooded the inside, and the card players grumbled. No one else looked up, save for Trotsworth, who obligatorily watched every pony who entered her inn. This particular pony was obviously not a ruffian, but likewise, he was not the type that would normally be expected to even approach an establishment like this. He was a unicorn- -which in itself was already a rarity in this part of the world- -and, as many of his race did, his coat was more bright and colorful than that of Pegasi or earth-ponies. He was light teal, with a mane that was mostly blue save for a single streak of white. He wore his hair in a long, neat ponytail, and also wore a pair of thick glasses. As if to further cement his appearance as a hopeless academic, he was wearing an olive green jacket with patched elbows despite the intense heat.

Almost as soon as he entered, he nearly dropped the stack of papers and files that he was holding; as he moved to catch them, his spectacles slid off his nose. He caught those too, but only barely. Trotsworth sighed. The stallion confirmed what she had already come to know: that any stallion with brains enough to amount to anything more than a brigand or an eggplant vendor was too hopeless to ever get around to it.

The stallion nearly dropped his supplies twice before he finally reached the bar.

“Hello there!” he said. His voice was unpleasantly nasal, but had a strange accent that Trotsworth had never heard before. “You wouldn’t happen to have anything to drink, would you? I’m positively parched!”

“That depends.”

“Depends? On what?”

“On whether you know what you want to order. I’m busy, I can’t stand around here forever.”

The stallion looked around, confused. “Oh…well, yes, I see…just some water would be fine, if you have any.”

“I have it,” said Trotsworth, pouring a glass. “But you’ll have to pay. We don’t accept bits- -”

The stallion levitated a small piece of glowpaz to her. He seemed to notice her mild surprise, and smiled. “I read several volumes on Somnambular culture on my way here.”

“Right…of course you did.” Trotsworth pushed the glass toward the stallion, and he lifted it in his orange magic and drank heartily from the glass.

“Ah!” he said. “Thank you!”

“And I suppose you’ll be wanting to rent a room, too?”

“Oh. Well, no, actually. You see, I’m looking for somepony. I heard that she may be staying here…”

Trotsworth frowned. She continued to polish a glass for a long moment, and then sighed. “Fine. If you want to buy a room, find me. And remember, this is a respectable, peaceful establishment.” She glared at him. “Don’t try anything.”

The stallion watched as she walked away, finding himself terribly confused. She had not helped him terribly much, and he did not know what to do. So, he instead focused himself on drinking his water, this time more slowly to prevent himself from getting sick. He did not know how much time passed before he saw a glass of inky courant juice drop onto the bar beside him, and a pony follow it into one of the stools.

The pony sat down and took a long drink from her glass. “So,” she said. “I heard you were looking for somepony.”

“I was, actually. If you might perhaps know where I could f…” He trailed off as he turned his head and actually saw the pony sitting beside him. As her voice had suggested, she was a mare, and a deceptively young looking one at that. Her coat was pale brown and her mane streaked with many shades of gray. Both were drab colors more fitting of an earth-pony than a Pegasus like her. The only spot of color on her apart from her dull green coat were her remarkably violet eyes, both of which were fixed on her dark-colored juice.

“Celestia’s warm rump,” whispered the stallion in awe.

“Excuse me?”

“My- -my apologies! It’s only that you look exactly like you are described in the books, and as depicted on the cover art! You’re…you’re Daring Do.”

“In the flesh,” she sighed. “But it’s a little odd. Not a lot of ponies this far south read my books. And not a lot of ponies in the north know I’m actually a real pony.”

“Well, layponies, perhaps, yes. But in certain archeology circles- -”

“I take it you’re an archeologist, then?”

“Well, yes, indeed I am- -”

“Then we’re done here, aren’t we?” Daring Do began to stand up. “I’m not looking for an apprentice or a sidekick. I tried that once. It didn’t work. I don’t care who you are, you’re not- -”

“Oh, no no no, you’ve misunderstood me! Forgive me, I was not clear! Heavens no, I would scarcely be able to picture myself doing the kind of work you are known for.”

Daring Do frowned. “That was meant as an insult, wasn’t it?”

“Of course not! I myself am just terribly adverse to danger! Which is why I’ve come to find you! I have some information that you may find interesting. It’s imperative to my research, but alas I don’t believe I will be able to complete it. It concerns a certain rare artifact.” He pointed to the pile of papers around him. “I have documentation, if you’d like to see it.”

Daring Do looked at the papers for a long moment. Then she sighed. “Fine,” she said. “But not up here. That table, over there.” She set down her drink on the bar and pointed to a booth in the rear corner of the front room of the inn. “Let’s sit down and talk to this.”

The stallion stood up, beaming as he gathered his documents and papers before following Daring Do across the inn. With them both standing, he realized that she was much smaller than he had expected, and that, despite appearing young, she walked with a limp characteristic of extensive arthritis in her left rear leg.

“I’m not putting on a show for your sake,” she said, immediately causing the stallion to look away.

“My apologies.”

“Celestia’s horn…you know I’m twice your age at least?”

The stallion nodded, but did not bother to correct her or note the fact that unicorns and Pegasi aged at different rates, or reference the fact that Starswirl the Bearded had already been well over seven centuries old when he had first set hoof in this very city thousands of years earlier.

Daring Do slid into the booth, and the stallion sat across from her. Daring Do crossed her front legs on the pitted wood of the table. “So,” she said. “Who exactly are you?”

“Me? Oh, heavens, I didn’t introduce myself! Please forgive me! My name is Dulcimer. I’m an archeologist with the Royal Archeology Institute.”

Daring Do stared at him. “If that were true, then we don’t have anything to talk about. But it isn’t true. Those Institute ponies would rather get thrown into a pool of pony-eating leeches before even looking at me. Trust me, I’ve seen it happen. Apparently I’m a ‘rank amateur’ with ‘destructive’ and ‘uncouth’ methods. Despite having retrieved ten times the artifacts all of them have put together.” Her eyes flashed. “For future reference? I don’t like being lied to.”

“Ah, yes,” said Dulcimer, visibly sweating and not from the heat. “Well, I may have bent the truth, if only slightly. I WAS in the Institute. Until they…well…threw me out.”

“Any particular reason why?”

“Budget cuts, largely. And the fact that my area of interest…well, it’s not terribly fruitful. Publish or perish, as they say.”

“And that area of interest is...?”

Dulcimer looked around the room suspiciously, and then leaned forward. “Ms. Do, have you ever heard the term Exmoor?”

“Exmoor?” Daring Do was somewhat taken aback but did not show it. “Of course I have. It’s a well-known fact that the Exmoori are a myth.”

“I assure you,” said Dulcimer, appearing somewhat offended. “They are most certainly not.”

“I know. But that’s not what common knowledge says, is it?”

Dulcimer sighed. “No,” he said. “Unfortunately not. The Exmoori, as I’m sure you are aware, left behind precious little artifacts. And even then, much of what remains is elusive. All we have are pointless scraps of metal, or the occasional fragment of bone or pottery.”

“Which isn’t unreasonable. From what I’ve heard, they were barbarians. Not much different from the way yaks are now. Who knows? Maybe ‘Exmoor’ was just an archaic reference to YakYakistan. For all we know, they could be the same people.”

“No. No they are not,” snapped Dulcimer before catching himself. “My apologies,” he said. “But you are beginning to sound awfully similar to a great many of my superiors throughout my life. All the evidence we have does point to what you are saying. That they were a simple northern tribe that existed in the pre-Celestial era.”

“But you don’t think that’s true, do you?”

“I know it isn’t true. And I am to prove it.”

Dulcimer untied his binder and opened his notes. He removed a large manila packet and passed it to Daring Do. Daring Do looked at it, and then at Dulcimer’s urgings opened it. She then proceeded to pour out a number of faded pages with penciled images on them.

“Rubbings,” she said, immediately recognizing what they were. “Of a bas relief.”

“Indeed,” said Dulcimer, smiling. “Do you know from where?”

“No,” said Daring Do. “I don’t recognize the language. And that’s rare for me…”

“According to the records accompanying these, they were taken from a rocky outcropping that served as a redout for the Mighty Helm.”

“These are definitely not Helm carvings,” said Daring Do, shaking her head. “They never made anything like this. None of the motifs match, and the complexity…”

“Because they are not Helm. Not originally. There is some level of decadence, a loss of resolution, as you can see, but that is only because the Helm lacked the tools and techniques of the ponies who they copied this relief from.”

Daring Do looked up at him. “You’re saying they copied this. From something Exmoori?”

Dulcimer smiled broadly. “That is exactly what I’m saying, Ms. Do.”

Daring Do looked back down at the pages, flipping through them and taking note of the fact that all the ones present had ripped edges, as though they had been torn out of a book or binder. “That’s a big assumption.”

“It’s not an assumption, Ms. Do. I have spent my life studying this. I believe that the Exmoori were an extremely advanced Hyperborean race, one that could rival- -and DID rival- -ancient unicorns.”

“So you’re saying they were magical. I don’t know…”

“That’s not it at all! No, they weren’t magical. At least not any more magical than modern non-unicorns, I suppose. But they were a warrior culture dedicated equally to combat and scientific endeavor.” Excited, Dulcimer leaned forward. “Imagine, a world powered by machines instead of magic! Where the Hyperborean landscape could be rendered habitable at their will, or that could forge all manner of strange metals and weapons- -or even reach to the stars themselves! A grand civilization unlike any Equestria has seen before, or will maybe even ever see again!”

“One that somehow left no artifacts?”

Dulcimer frowned. “Where they once existed has since been fully subsumed by ice, or looted in the intervening millennia. The original to this work likely no longer exists. Even the Helm version is lost. And this is the only copy of the rubbing ever made.”

Daring Do looked up. “You mean you didn’t have the foresight to make a copy?”

“Me? Oh no, Ms. Do, you misunderstand. I was most certainly not the one who made the rubbing. These pages were created well over seventy years ago.”

“I find it hard to believe that we had a piece of Exmoori text buried in some basement for seventy years.”

“And yet it was. These were in fact labeled as top-secret until only recently, during Princess Twilight’s overall of the Canterlot Library. Some things were moved…misplaced…”

“And you ended up with this?”

Dulcimer nodded. “I did. But the more I interpret it, the more I realize that it is beyond me.”

“You mean you can’t understand it.”

“Not completely. No one can. Even after a lifetime- -a unicorn lifetime, mind you- -of research, I still barely know anything about the Exmoori. Of course, with the overall, more primary and secondary texts will become available, but with my rejection from the Institute I just don’t have access anymore…”

“You want me to do bookwork for you? You do know who I am, right?”

“Of course I do. And that’s not what I meant. You misunderstand. These texts, they reference something. Something extremely powerful and extremely dangerous. Something that the Exmoori…built, perhaps? I don’t know. My skillset is too narrow.”

“And you want me to recover this artifact. So you can prove the Exmoori were real.”

“And because whatever this is, I have the impression that should it be released it would cause serious and irreparable harm to Equestria as a whole.” He had suddenly grown quite serious. “I’m not entirely selfish. Perhaps this is just a parable, as story. A story that the Mighty Helm took enough interest in to bother re-carving with incredible accuracy into a granite fresco the size of this room.”

Daring Do looked down at the rubbings, flipping through them slowly and reading through the sparse notes that Dulcimer had given her. To her, it was apparent why he had failed to publish: he was not very good. His translations were shoddy and his work of dreadful quality. It was acceptable for the Institute, of course- -but not for one versed in practical archeology.

“There’s not much here,” she admitted. “Not much to go on. But the rubbing is perfect. But…is it missing something?”

“Getting it was…difficult. I may have only managed to get some of it.”

Daring Do sighed. “Of course you did,” she muttered. “This can never be easy, can it?”

While she continued to scrutinize the papers before her, Daring Do was distantly aware of the door to the inn swinging open. From the angle she was sitting, she could not see the individual who had entered, but she could see the expression on Mrs. Trotsworth’s face. Daring Do was not sure if her characteristic frown was purely instinctive or a conscious application of judgement, but she knew what it meant.

“Horn ivory,” she swore.

“Excuse me?” asked Dulcimer, confused.

“Nothing,” said Daring Do. “It’s nothing.”

Except that it was. She carefully watched the area around her. Little seemed to change; the card-players had started arguing over something again, and the war-story griffon had gotten off topic. The tourist on the couch had rolled over and was using his newspaper as a blanket while he slept soundly, smiling as he did so. Yet, somehow, the hot air of the inn seemed to have become thicker and even more oppressive.

A figure came into view. He was enormous, but his exact shape was obscured by a dusty brown cloak. A hood covered his face, and the torn hem of the cloak dragged on the floor behind him. This appearance was not entirely unusual; it was generally relegated to desert wanderers, either from the herding tribes or of lone wanderers searching the dunes for scrap or signs of new oases.

Dulcimer had begun to babble about something inconsequential and probably wrong, and had- -like the others- -not noticed the cloaked pony. Daring Do pretended to listen and shuffle through the documents as though she were focused entirely on them.

Then, to her dismay, the pony approached her booth. Dulcimer was oblivious until the moment when a long, dark shadow covered them both.

“Daring Do?” asked a voice from beneath the hood. It was incredibly deep, but also oddly tinny and distorted.

“Huh?” said Dulcimer, finally looking up. “Excuse me! I was in the midst of a conversation! I demand that you kindly await your turn!”

The hulking pony did not move. In fact, he seemed frozen. Then he spoke again.

“Daring Do?”

Daring Do sighed and put the files back in the folder she had been given. “Yeah,” she said. “It’s me.”

She immediately threw herself to the side, just barely avoiding a massive armored hoof as it landed on the table, instantly splintering the thick and solid oak into thousands of fragments. Daring Do tucked and rolled, spreading her wings to compensate for the sudden motion- -only to receive an armored hoof straight to the chest. This both unbalanced her both physically and mentally; the shock was not only to her ribcage, but to her fundamental assumption that she, as an unburdened Pegasus, would be far faster than any type of pony dressed in full armor, especially after having marched through the desert.

Daring Do was thrown back. She landed hard and skidded into an upholstered couch. The cloaked pony turned without any hesitation and began to approach her, only for Dulcimer to stand in its path and interpose himself between them.

“I will not allow you to hurt her!” he cried, his voice shaking despite the apparent show of gallantry. He summoned a shield spell, but even at a distance Daring Do could tell that he was no mage. The spell was unbalanced and poorly constructed. The armored pony lifted his hoof and struck the center of the orange-colored shield. It detonated with substantial force, simultaneously throwing Dulcimer backward and rendering him partially unconscious from the uncontrolled feedback to his horn.

The explosion also blew back the armored pony’s cloak. He did not seem to care, or perhaps did not notice. Daring Do stared up at him as he immediately began moving forward. Time seemed to slow as she took account of what he was wearing: a full-body suit of gleaming steel, far wider and thicker than it should have needed to be, complete with a helmet with six luminescent optical lenses imbedded in the front. His shoulder was marked with an insignia: a white thistle over a red field.

By this time, the other patrons of the inn had realized that it was time for them to step in. They had realized that Daring Do, one of their primary and favorite card players, was in danger, and they drew whatever weapons they had and leapt onto the armored pony.

Their presence did not even slow him. With a barely audible mechanical whirr, he lifted one of his arms and struck a heavyset earth pony in the chest. He was knocked back several feet, and the armored pony then proceeded to strike him again, this time sending him flying across the room and through wall almost twenty feet away. Within seconds he had incapacitated the others as well, doing so without any apparent effort. The whole time, he had not taken his optic lenses off of Daring Do- -nor had he stopped approaching her.

“FOR GRIFFONSTONE!” cried a voice from across the room. Daring Do turned to see the elderly griffon charging forward madly with a blunt spear that he had quite clearly taken off the wall, not realizing that it was only meant as a decoration.

The armored pony responded. He extended one hoof, and the metal around the limb shifted. A long blade extended from the armor, and he turned, wielding it like a sword.

Daring Do sprang into action. Having regained her wind, the leapt over the shoulder of the armored pony and tackled the griffon to the floor just in time to avoid a swipe of steel that severed the lower third of her tail hair, as well as separating the top of several nearby couches. One landed near the sleeping tourist, and he began to hug it as he rolled over and continued to sleep.

The blade came down again, this time targeted directly at Daring Do. She rolled and it imbedded itself into the wooden floor. This would normally have been fortuitous; Daring Do had more than once managed to trick a foe into imbedding his sword into wood, giving her a moment to counterattack. This was not one of those times, though. The armored pony lifted the sword free as though it was made of warm butter. Daring Do was not sure if his armor was enchanted or somehow mechanical in nature, but it was quite clearly enhancing his speed and strength substantially.

As Daring Do was backed against the bar, she saw Mrs. Trotsworth poke her head out from behind the bar.

“Get out of my inn!” she screamed. “And PAY FOR THIS MESS!”

With that, she lifted a crossbow from under the bar and loosed a bold directly into the armored pony’s chest. It rebounded off his armor with barely a clang. This actually gave him pause, and he turned his attention toward Trotsworth.

“My mission is the of the utmost importance,” he said, his voice still exceedingly deep and distorted strangely. “Do not attempt to interfere. Daring Do must be eliminated for the sake of the future of Equestria.”

Trotsworth replied by loosing another bolt. Once again, it did nothing, and the armored pony raised his hoof. The metal shifted, and Daring Do was sure she saw the tips of projectiles inside the mechanism.

She responded by reaching over the bar and grabbing her glass of courant juice. With the armored pony turned toward Trotsworth, he had exposed one side of his face. Daring Do lobbed the juice at him, and the glass shattered on his helmet, spraying thick, pulpy violet juice over one half of his optics.

The armored pony took a step back, clearly confused. He had been partially blinded, and with his entire body covered in metal, there was no way for him to wipe away the material blocking half his vision. Daring Do took advantage of this by picking up a chair leg and charging at him with it. The pony attacked again, but Daring Do parried obliquely, rebounding off his body and flipping over onto his back. As she did, she drew her whip and snapped it outward to grab a nearby table. Throwing her weight to one side, she formed a rudimentary pulley around the armored pony’s neck and pulled him to the side, simultaneously throwing him off balance and holding her too tightly to his body for him to buck off.

He was strong, though. Daring Do could feel his body straining beneath her. It was not the strain of muscles, though. She felt the click of actuators and the whirr or hydraulics, and could see the humming machinery through the joints of his armor. It was definitely a machine of some sort.

She was thrown off with ease. Before she was, though, she saw exactly what she had needed to see: a weakness. On the rear of the pony’s helmet, there were a pair of grate-covered tubes with isolating valves at a rate characteristic of somepony breathing.

Daring Do spread her wings and flew in an admittedly ungraceful arc to the rear of the bar, near the kitchen area. She landed next to Trotsworth, who was struggling to find yet another bolt.

“Mrs. Trotsworth!” cried Daring Do, grabbing a bowl of uncooked dough from the counter. “I need to borrow this!”

“But they’re not even cooked yet!” cried Trotsworth. Daring Do barely noticed; she had already dashed forward, once again charging headlong toward the armored pony. She approached from the side where she had stained his optics with juice; he saw her through it, but his view was distorted. He struck, but Daring Do was able to pull a high-speed dodge. The radius was tight, and as she once again swooped onto the back of the pony the strain on her wing became too much. Something inside cracked and slid out of place. The pain was intense and even blinding, but Daring Do did her best to ignore it.

She grasped the pony and reached her hoof into the dough. Before he threw her off again, she slammed the sticky substance into the tubes on the rear of his helmet. That was all she had time for; the next thing she knew, she was on the floor, lying in a pile of rubble.

The armored pony groaned and approached her- -but then stopped. For a second, even through his mask, Daring Do could sense his panic. Immediately, he reached for the tubes on the rear of his helmet, crying out as he tried to grasp the dough to pull it free. With hooves, though, he was not able to; all he succeeded in doing was pushing it in deeper, further clogging the tubes.

Daring Do stood. She grasped her wing and gritted her teeth and with one quick motion relocated the arthritic joint. She screamed from the pain, but her wing immediately regained its shape. Trying to continue ignoring the pain, she took a defensive stance, waiting as the armored pony writhed and clawed at the sticky dough.

“Come on,” whispered Daring Do. “Come on, take off the helmet!”

Whether or not she would be able to win this fight now came down to chance. In the armor, this pony was virtually invulnerable; but with even one piece removed, she would have one shot at taking him out. If he had been a unicorn, it would be easiest: a single, rapid punch to the base of his horn could render him completely unconscious. It was obvious that he had no horn, though, so Daring Do was given a fifty-fifty chance of him being a Pegasus or an earth-pony. A Pegasus would be a tough shot, but she knew from experience that her race had relatively weak skulls. One blow meant a concussion that, although medically significant, could probably knock him out. Probably. If he was an earth-pony, though, she had no chance. Their skulls were far too thick and strong.

The armored pony dropped to his knees, audibly gasping. Daring Do’s eyes widened as she realized what was happening.

“No. No, you idiot! Take off the helmet!”

The armored pony’s gasps began to slow. He looked up at her defiantly and tried to stand one last time. Finding himself unable to do so, he collapsed sideways.

A teal hoof suddenly struck him in the back of the head. “Ha!” cried Dulcimer. “Take that, foul ruffian! We’ve won!”

“Quick!” cried Daring Do. “We have to get his helmet off!”

“Off? Are you mad?! If we remove it- -”

“He can’t breathe! I clogged his air intake! He’ll suffocate!”

Dulcimer seemed oddly unconcerned, but Daring Do leapt down on the armored pony, trying to find the release for his helmet. She began to panic as she realized there might not be one, realizing what she might just have done to another pony and the line she could have crossed so easily. Just as she began to give up, though, she found a small release. She pulled at it desperately, and the explosive bolts in the helmet activated, sending it flying across the room.

The pony inside was not nearly as large as the armor made him seem. He was certainly well-built, but hardly a giant; in fact, from the look of him, he was probably a Pegasus. He was pure white in color, with a short-cropped white mane. Daring Do leaned down close to him, and the whole room fell silent as she listened.

“Yes,” she said after a moment, relieved. “He’s still breathing. But he needs a doctor.” She put her hoof on the side of his neck to check his pulse, and found that it was surprisingly fast and uneven. She also checked one of his eyes, but recoiled in horror as she forced it open. His eyes were deep red. Part of it was that they were bloodshot from oxygen deprivation, but it was immediately clear that his irises were already scarlet in color. He was a pure, red-eyed albino Pegasus.

Trotsworth looked out at her inn in dismay, but she knew what was more important. She immediately raced to the back room, trying to find her husband or someone that she could send to Somnambula to fetch a doctor, both for the armored pony and for the heavily bruised and defeated ponies he had severely beaten on his way to Daring Do.

Daring Do stood up and looked at the carnage. Several hurt ponies groaned, and the sleeping stallion sat up, looked around, and went back to sleep.

“Darn it,” she said. “I’m going to have to pay for all of this.”

“Not if you sell his armor,” noted Dulcimer. Then, in response to the look Daring Do gave him: “what? That’s your people’s tradition, isn’t it? That the gear goes to the victor of a duel.”

“It’s not that simple.” Daring Do put her hoof to her face and sighed. “Fine. Yes.”

“So you will take his armor?”

“No. Yes, I will look into this artifact. Because it’s pretty clear that somepony doesn’t want me to. And that has me interested. And very, very angry.” She reached out and plucked the folder of rubbings from Dulcimer. The rest she left; it was pointless anyway.

“I need more information, though,” she said.

“I’ve done all I can. I mean, I will certainly try to check for some sources I haven’t seen yet in a few of the more obscure libraries, perhaps look at things from a new angle and all, but neither of us have Institute credentials. Whatever modicum of information on the Exmoori they might have, we lack access to it.”

“Don’t worry,” said Daring Do, making her way toward the door and not looking back. “You go do your thing, and I’ll do mine. I need to buy a train ticket.”
“A train? Why?”
“Because I think I know somepony who can help.”

Chapter 3: Keeper of Tomes

The sun was just barely rising, risen across the sky by Celestia’s divine magic. On a normal day, Twilight Sparkle might have reflected on that fact- -but this was no ordinary day. For the past three months, Twilight had been tasked with managing the overhaul of the entire Canterlot Regional Library System. This meant redistributing, reorganizing, and reshelving not just every book in her own Ponyville library but- -but Celestia’s divine permission- -to catalog and integrate the Royal Canterlot Library itself as well.

Which was why this day in particular was of such great importance: it was rebinding day. A great number of fiction works of little to not historical provenance had arrived in the last shipment in absolutely horrible condition; they were bent and broken so badly by decades of use that Twilight felt ashamed for their sake. In order to ready them for the residents of Ponyville, Twilight- -as the responsible leading member of the overhaul operation- -had taken it upon herself to carefully separate the pages from the spines of the books and reattach them into new bodies.

It was, in her opinion, the most thrilling thing she had done in months. In fact, it was so exciting that rather than waking up well-before the crack of dawn, Twilight had just stayed awake through the whole night. For three days in a row. Technically, it stood to reason that as an alicorn she did not actually need to sleep; Celestia had, after all, gone exactly a thousand years raising both the sun every day and the moon every night. Of course, Twilight would hardly dare to compare herself to Celestia, but even if she had wanted to sleep it would have been impossible with the thoughts of the joy of rebinding the piles and piles of pages that lay downstairs.

Twilight completed yet another book and admired her work. She giggled. “Another spine-tingling adventure!”

“Sure looks like it,” said a voice inches away from her head.

“GAH!” Twilight cried out and fell from her chair. As she did, her wings spasmed involuntarily, flapping violently but producing no lift. The effect of this was that they trapped her on the floor, flapping violently and causing her to spin on her back like a wounded junebug.

“On no, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to surprise you!”

“WHO ARE YOU AND HOW DID YOU GET INTO MY CASTLE!”

“The door was unlocked!”

Twilight let out a tirade of foul language concerning the rumps of various Princesses, herself included. When she finally got her wings under control, she stood up briskly and glared at the interloper into her book-ridden domain. Her gaze of disapproval only lasted for a moment, though, and faded when she realized who she was staring at.

A long gasp escaped her. “A.K. Yearling! In- -in my library! Right here! In the flesh!” Twilight’s wings suddenly pompfed outward violently, tipping several books onto the floor. Twilight caught them in her magic but blushed heavily. “Heh heh…sorry…”

A.K. Yearling gave her a slightly admonishing look, which only caused Twilight to blush harder. “Still getting used to them?”

“Yeah. It’s not easy. They’re so feathery. And ticklish. But- -but you don’t need to know that last part! You didn’t hear that!” Twilight’s eyes widened and she gasped. “And you didn’t hear me swearing just now, did you?”

“Not a bit.”

Twilight nodded solemnly. “Good. Because that would be horribly embarrassing.” She laughed awkwardly. “But- -you’re really here, in my house…just standing on my floor…do you want tea or something? I can make tea. SPIKE! GET TEA!”

“No, no, that’s not why I’m here,” said Daring Do, wincing at how awkward this conversation was becoming. “I’m here because I need help.”

Twilight’s eyes grew so wide that A.K. Yearling was beginning to grow uncomfortable. “You want…my help?”

“It’s nothing serious. But I’m looking for information on a certain subject. For research sake. But it’s not something that’s easy to find. I figured the first place to start looking was with you and your library.”

Twilight squealed with joy. “A.K. Yearling wants to see MY library! It’s just like I dreamed it would be!” Twilight cleared her throat. “Not that I have dreams about you. Or books doing… never mind.” Twilight sighed. Then, with a shout that made A.K. Yearling take a sudden step back: “SPIKE! FORGET THE TEA! GET ME MY CARD CATALOGS! AND THE CARD CATALOG FOR MY CARD CATALOGS!” She then smiled at Daring Do. “Right this way! We’ve got a double date with Dewey and his glorious decimal system!”

Twilight laughed so hard at her own joke that she snorted. A.K. Yearling winced. She knew that Twilight was trying, and she supposed that was what counted.

“I can’t believe you’re actually here!” laughed Twilight as she led them through stacks upon stacks of books, some fully reshelved and organized but with others in boxes.

“It looks like you’re still in the process of moving everything. If this isn’t a good time- -”

“Oh, no, it’s an excellent time! It is a little bit of a mess, which is a shame on my part- -you should see it when they’re all on the shelves and perfect, it’s amazing- -but I know exactly where every book is.”

“You…do?”

“Of course! It’s my library. I’ve spent WEEKS organizing and reorganizing these books. It’s what I do when I get stressed. One time, Rarity tried to set me up on a date, and I got so nervous I completely rearranged my reference section!”

“Oh. O…kay. I hope the date went well.”

“Oh, there was no date. I missed it. Too many dictionaries. I have them in seventeen languages! And that one thesaurus…the heavy one…”

A small figure suddenly came around the corner. A.K. Yearling actually gasped when she realized that the figure was in fact a tiny violet and green dragon. An enormous pile of boxes were perched in his claws; the stack was so high that he kept nearly losing his balance.

“Twilight!” he called from behind the pile. “I got the catalogs you asked for!”

“Thank you, Spike!” Twilight levitated the boxes from his grasp, organizing them into a neat grid in the process. A.K. Yearling was able to get a good view of Spike for the first time.

“Cadence’s tail,” she whispered. “He IS real!”

“What?” Spike looked up at her, confused. “Well I sure hope I am. It would be hard to take naps and stuff if I wasn’t.” He paused, then stroked his chin. “Or would it…”

“I- -I’m sorry! I didn’t think you actually existed!” She turned sharply to Twilight. “So the stories are true? You actually did hatch a dragon? And you make him work for you?”

“Well, I don’t make him.”

“That’s what she tells herself,” muttered Spike.

“But…yeah. He’s a dragon. I mean, that’s not new to you. I mean, the dragon’s treasure in Daring Do and the Iron Key- -”

“That one was fifty meters tall and spit enchanted fire. This one is…small.”

“Rarity says size doesn’t matter.”

Twilight blushed, and A.K. laughed awkwardly.

“Sure, Spike,” said Twilight. “No, about that tea…and could you find Starlight? I’m going to need some help with the books.”

“I can try,” sighed Spike. “But I’m NOT going into Trixie’s car again! Last time I found her in there, I saw…” He shivered violently. “Never mind.” He began to trot off before waving. “ Nice to meet you, Mrs. Yearling!”

“Ms.,” noted A.K., but by then Spike was already gone.

“Isn’t he cute?” asked Twilight. “And yes. I totally did hatch him. With magic. When I was five.”

“You’re lucky. Usually baby dragons try to take down pray at least three times their size after hatching. It’s a defense tactic. And half of them are venomous.”

“Ven…” Twilight opened a box and flipped through the index cards inside. “That isn’t referenced in my section on dragon biology. I’ll have to ask Ember…”

“So,” said A.K. “I was actually wondering. With this whole library project, is it just books?”

“Is there anything in life other than books?”

“Yes, but that’s not what I mean. I mean old documents. Records, archives.”

“Oh. Sure, I suppose. Those are a little harder to reorganize. They’re normally in the basement of the castle, in what used to be the secure dungeon. I wanted to use the space for expansion so I had all the archives transferred out to a new building out near Gelding Grotto. Terrible name for a grotto, by the way, but it actually has a historical reason. See, there was a stallion, and- -”

“I’m familiar with the story. I was just wondering. I mean, aren’t some of those documents are classified, aren’t they?”

Twilight shrugged. “If they are, it doesn’t really matter.”

“It doesn’t?”

“They’re all old. Which gives them some level of research interest, but politics change pretty quickly. Apart from Celestia, the government administration is completely different. Any threats they were dealing with back then are either dealt with or lurking…meaning I’ll have to get my friends and deal with them in a year or two, I guess, but documents aren’t going to help with that.”

“Oh.” These were not the answers that A.K. was hoping for.

Twilight suddenly giggled and stamped her feet. “OH! I still can’t believe you’re here! Before we start- -I know it’s a lot to ask, and I don’t want to seem desperate- -but can you sign my Daring Do books? I have a full set! First editions! And SECOND editions!”

“Sure. If that’s the cost for helping you, I’m fine with it.”

Twilight laughed. “Ohh! Rainbow Dash is going to be so jealous! Just wait until I tell her you’re here!”

“About that.” Daring Do leaned close to Twilight. “Actually, I’m very busy with a new case. I’d rather not have Rainbow Dash getting involved in it.”

“But she’s your biggest fan! Even bigger than me, and I would totally preen you right now if you let me!” Twilight winced. “…and that thought came out as words.”

“It’s too early in the planning phase. Just boring research right now that she wouldn’t find interesting anyway. And I’m very busy. Time is of the essence on this one, Princess Sparkle.” This was of course not true; although A.K. had a sense that other forces were working against her with regards to Dulcimer’s artifact, she was not explicitly aware of any rush. She knew she was just trying to make excuses and be persuasive. This project had already shown itself to be perilous before she had even started in earnest; the last thing she needed was a sidekick to get in her way- -and into danger.

Twilight was about to protest, but was interrupted by a sudden surge of blue light that manifested in front of her without warning. A.K. jumped back in surprise, having no idea what was teleporting into her vicinity- -only watch as a pale lavender-colored unicorn dropped to the ground.

“Starlight!” cried Twilight. “There you are! So Spike actually managed to find you this time?”

“No. I found him. It’s not hard. There’s a spell for it. It’s kind of a minor curse, but it’s not malicious. Generally.” She turned toward A.K. Yearling. “Oh. Hey there…um…I don’t actually know if I should call you Yearling or Do.”

A.K. glared at Twilight. “Really? Do you just tell everypony who I am? I mean, the whole point of having a secret identity is that it’s supposed to be SECRET.”

“But it’s Starlight! She’s my disciple!”

A.K. raised an eyebrow. “Your what?”

“She means student,” said Starlight. “Learning about friendship and all. But for the record, it’s kind of obvious who you are. I mean, you just put on a hat, shawl, and big glasses. That don’t even have glass in them. I mean, what idiot would fall for that?”

“You’d be surprised.”

Twilight chuckled awkwardly.

“So, yeah,” said Starlight. “I was just having breakfast. Then I popped over to let Rainbow Dash know that her idol was here.”

A.K. Yearling and Twilight looked at each other, wide eyed.

“You did WHAT?!” demanded A.K.

Starlight seemed confused. “Did I do something wrong? I mean, Rainbow Dash is your biggest fan. I don’t know why, to be honest I always thought your stuff was kind of ‘meh’. But I mean, she likes it…and I figured this was a friendshipy thing to do.”

“Well, it certainly was,” said Twilight. “But we also need to consider Ms. Yearling’s privacy and her wishes when we do things like- -”

Twilight was interrupted by a sudden, deafening boom. Both her and A.K. ducked while Starlight nonchalantly summoned a shield bubble. A gust of hurricane-force wind seemed to tear through the castle and the library, pulling books and papers off the shelves behind it and leaving a distinctive rainbow-colored contrail.

A.K. was sure that she was going to be tackled, and braced for the inevitable impact. It never came, though; instead, the air before her suddenly seemed to materialize as a blue Pegasus with a distinct rainbow-colored mane and tail. Her violet eyes were wide with excitement, and she stamped on the floor excitedly, almost as though she was dancing.

“OMC!” she cried. “You’re here! You’re actually HERE! In Twilight’s library! With the books, and in Ponyville, and RIGHT HERE!” Rainbow Dash nearly squealed. “I can show you Ponyville! I can show you my house, and my memorabilia collection! I can show you my ROOM! You- -you can sign my books! Can you do that? Is that something you do? Twilight! Did you hear that Daring Do is here?!”

“My books!” cried Twilight, scampering around trying to collect the various volumes and texts that Rainbow Dash had knocked from their shelves in her haste. “My precious books! They’re out of order! OUT OF ORDERRRRRRRRRR!”

A.K. sighed. “Hi, Rainbow Dash,” she said.

Rainbow Dash squealed. “Oh my CELESTIA! She said hi to me!”

“Of course I did. We’ve known each for, what, two years now?” A.K. looked up at Twilight, trying to find help, but Twilight was obsessed with picking up her various spilt books. So, instead, she turned to Starlight. “Is there anything you can do about this?”

“Sure. Hold on.”

The whole atmosphere vibrated, and A.K. Yearling immediately felt a headache spreading through her forehead. She closed her eyes, wincing in pain, and when she was opening them she could have sworn she saw numerous lavender unicorns converging into a single body. The entire library had been neatened and the books- -not just the ones that had been unshelved by Rainbow Dash’s boisterousness, but the uncategorized ones as well- -had all been properly organized.

“What did you just do?”

“Several things,” said Starlight, dismissively. “Part of it was a time spell. A minor one. Really more of a stasis field.”

“A stasis field!?” cried Twilight. “When did you learn to do that?!”

“Probably about six years ago. It’s not hard. But if you start tasting metal, you might want to get to a doctor.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” grumbled A.K. She was not a fan of magic, especially the more severe types. Her line of work had required her to develop a certain sensitivity to it; sudden spells made her nauseous. It was immediately apparent that this unicorn would have had no awareness of magical sensitivity whatsoever.

“Well…that was…nice, Starlight,” muttered Twilight, clearly uncomfortable, either because she had been upstaged or because she had not had the joy of putting the books back on the shelves. Twilight cleared her throat. “So. Ms. Yearling. What exactly was it that you were looking for?”

“I need information on the Exmoori.”

The entire room fell silent. Rainbow Dash watched with anticipation but clearly no glimmer of recognition in her eyes. Starlight, likewise, only barely seemed to recognize the word. Twilight, however, uttered a small gasp.

“Well,” she said. “That’s not a request I was expecting.”

“Do you have anything?”

“That depends.”

“On what?”

“On whether you’re interested in breezie-tales, pure conjecture, or tertiary- -or even quaternary- -sources. That’s not something I’ve researched thoroughly. I don’t think anypony has.”

“So you know what they are?” asked Starlight.

“I know the word. And I know it’s not exactly considered standard equinpology. Frankly, the consensus is the Exmoori never existed.”

“What do you know, then?” asked A.K.

“Only that they were, supposedly, a race of northern ponies. Not unicorns or Pegasi or earth-ponies, but something different. No one knows what exactly. But…well, to be honest, I’m pretty sure they’re just a legend.”

“Do you have any citations to back that up?”

Twilight’s eyes flashed. A.K. Yearling had clearly struck her mark.

“No,” she said, slowly. “But I’m trying to think where I can find them.” She opened several of her card catalog boxes and sifted through them. After only a few seconds, her eyes suddenly lit up.

“You found something?”

“No, but I had an idea! I don’t have any books about the Exmoori, but I know where we could find them!”

“Where?”

“Well, if there’s ANYWHERE that arcane knowledge like that would be, it would be in the Starswirl the Bearded wing of the Royal Canterlot Library! I haven’t even STARTED to go through that one yet, but Starswirl was the most brilliant mind in pony history! If there’s anything in Equestria about them, it would be there!”

“Canterlot’s half a day’s trainride form here,” noted A.K., already feeling her rump aching from having taken a several-days trip from Southern Equestria already. “I don’t know if- -”

“It’s just to Canterlot,” said Rainbow Dash, perking up. “I can get there in at least half an hour. Less if I break the sound-barrier! Which I totally can! If you want a certain book, I can just pop over and- -”

“That won’t be necessary!” said Twilight. “Starlight, can you watch the castle while I’m gone?”

Starlight nodded and stepped back knowingly. A.K. looked around, confused, but having a very bad feeling about what was going to happen next.

“I’ve never tried this before on this scale,” said Twilight. “But I’ve done the math for three ponies, and it should work. Hold on to something. And make sure there’s no flies around.”

“Wait,” said A.K. “What are you- -Rainbow Dash!”

Rainbow Dash had clamped herself around A.K.’s legs. This interrupted A.K.’s train of thought just long enough for her not to notice the charge rising around the Princess’s horn.

“NO!” she cried. “Princess, wait- -!”

She did not have enough time to protest. The space around her suddenly exploded in pink-violet light, and the ground beneath her disappeared as the teleportation spell activated. A.K. Yearling was sucked out of reality into nothingness.

This was not entirely unfamiliar to her- -and she despised the sensation. There was a brief moment of lag in the process, one that for less-experienced mages often was drawn out to billions upon billions of years with disastrous mental consequences. Twilight was quite clearly experienced, though, and although the transmission phase only lasted a trillionth of a second, A.K. Yearling was conscious of floating through a horrifically familiar void. It was the space outside reality, the emptiness that the spell slingshoted them through- -and the expanse whose far shores could only hope to ever be crossed by grave cosmic Conjunction.

Yet, in this void, she was sure she felt something. Something was moving alongside her, a dark shape that moved on its own accord outside of the spell- -and one that was watching her with unseeable but terrible eyes.

Then she struck a cold marble floor- -hard. The wind was knocked out of her, as well as the several muffins she had eaten for lunch. Rainbow Dash, who had landed on her hooves beside her, was dizzy for a moment but otherwise unaffected. Twilight Sparkle, however, wavered and collapsed onto the ground.

“Daring Do! Twilight!” cried Rainbow Dash.

“Whoa…” moaned Twilight. “That was…not fun. I think the power calculations were off…I don’t think it’s a linear conversion after fifty kilometers…oh…I feel kind of weak…”

A.K. Yearling finished retching and lifted her head. “If you EVER do that to me again, I will punch you right in the wings!”

Rainbow Dash gasped in horror; Twilight, not being a Pegasus, did not appear to grasp the gravity of the threat.

“It was just a teleport spell,” said Twilight. “For three ponies…long distance. And I’m an alicorn, so- -”

“An alicorn! Exactly! Teleports are harder for Pegasi! Especially ones who have previously gotten shoved through unstable Celestia-kicking portals!”

Rainbow Dash gasped. “The Tower of Ducks!” she whispered, and Twilight immediately went pale.

“I- -I’m sorry!” she stammered. “I didn’t realize- -I haven’t read that one since I was a filly, it didn’t occur to me- -”

“Just- -just forget about it,” muttered A.K., standing slowly and wobbling as Rainbow Dash helped her. Another wave of nausea swept over her, and she groaned. “I’m getting too old for this…” She shook her head. “Where are we, anyway?”

“The Canterlot Library,” said Twilight, still clearly ashamed of her lack of consideration. “The Starswirl Wing isn’t far. Can you walk?”

“Of course I can walk.” A.K. pushed Rainbow Dash away. “Just get me to the book.”

Chapter 4: The Quest Begins

The wing, as anticipated, was sealed with an iron door. A.K. cursed under her breath, even though she had anticipated this. Apart from containing numerous spells and texts by Starswirl the Bearded, the wing also contained a number of texts on arcana and on subjects deemed unsuitable for a general audience. Entering it would normally have been impossible without and appointment- -and an appointment would need to be secured using credentials from an organization like the Royal Archeological Society. In essence, there was no way A.K. Yearling- -or Daring Do- -would have ever been allowed in.

Twilight, however, approached the muscular guards with impudence.

“Lord Princess,” said one of them. He was clearly the elder, although the differences were subtle in the ranks of the Royal Guard. A.K. assessed that he was at least twice as old as her, even though he looked like a colt- -and even as he felt his eyes wandering across her arthritic but still incredibly well muscled wings. “I see you did not arrive in a skin-tight catsuit this time.”

“Catsuit?” said A.K., raising an eyebrow.

Twilight laughed awkwardly. “That’s an…interesting story.”

She turned to the guard. “I’d like to request entry.”

The younger of the two eyed A.K. and Rainbow Dash suspiciously. “I don’t know if we can do that, Princess. This wing is restricted. I don’t know if we can just- -”

“Shut your cake-hole!” hissed the older guard. “You darn rookie! This isn’t something we can debate! If the Princess says jump, you don’t even hesitate to ask ‘how high’! If I get demoted because of your sorry rump- -” He seemed to realize that the Lord Princess was listening, and he cleared his throat “My apologies,” he said, bowing deeply. “My comrade is a new recruit. And we’ve been on high alert ever since a significant classified text has been stolen. Your Divinity is of course free to enter. Please forgive us.” He bowed again, and this time lit his horn to force his partner to bow as well. As he did, he also levitated the keys into the lock and opened the door.

The three visitors entered the wing and were immediately surrounded by the scent of dust and old paper. Twilight breathed it in deeply.

“Hey, Twi,” said Rainbow Dash. “I think the younger one had the hots for you.”

Twilight blushed. “Oh. No. That’s just part of their duty, me being a Princess and all.”

“Exactly.”

Twilight blushed harder. “So. I’ll go- -um- -look for those books now…heh heh…”

Twilight immediately vanished into the stacks of scrolls and ancient texts with practiced precision. A.K. sighed and took off her shawl and hat. The library was dry but sweltering, and no one was around who did not already know that she was, in fact, Daring Do.

This only seemed to excite Rainbow Dash further, but Daring Do ignored her, instead electing to sit down on a bench at the base of a massive hourglass. It was an odd decoration, especially considering how it seemed to actually be functional. From what Daring Do knew about Starswirl, though, he was an expert in time and space manipulation, so the motif was correct- -even if it meant that, despite Twilight’s confidence, he probably knew very little about what she had actually wanted to research.

“Are you okay?” asked Rainbow Dash. She sounded genuinely concerned.

“Yeah,” lied Daring Do. In actuality, her legs and knees ached badly. The teleport had only exaggerated what was already a growing problem for her. She was acutely aware that she herself was neither an expert on slowing the effect of time nor a unicorn with a lifespan measured in centuries.

Rainbow Dash sat down beside her, but quickly took to the air again, slowly circling the hourglass. “So,” she said. “You’re looking for those…exmort things…”

“Exmoori,” corrected Daring Do. “And yeah. I am.”

“You’re working on something, aren’t you? Tracking down an artifact?”

Daring Do frowned, but there was no point in hiding it anymore. She produced the folder with the rubbings and opened it, sliding one of the pages out as she did so. She then gave it to Rainbow Dash, who took it gingerly.

“None of this makes any sense to me,” said Rainbow Dash after a second.

“Me neither. Hence the research. Not everything I do is exciting adventures into tombs and old temples.”

“But…it always ends up there, right?”

Daring Do shook her head. “Yes,” she admitted.

Rainbow Dash once again descended to the bench, and this time remained there. “So, what exactly are you looking for?”

“I don’t really know. Not yet anyway.”

“You told Twilight about those Exmoor things. She said they were ponies.”

“More likely a kind of equid.” Seeing the confusion on Rainbow Dash’s face, she rephrased her statement. “Like zebras or donkeys. Being that are kind of like ponies but not really.”

“Oh…okay,” said Rainbow Dash, clearly not fully comprehending. Her somewhat stupefied expression belied a surprisingly perceptive mind, though. “You already seem to know a lot about them, though.”

Daring Do kicked her feet. “I know some,” she admitted. “But not much. And it’s not conclusive. I don’t have academic credentials and scientific studies, but I have a gut feeling.”

“But your gut is always right!”

“Not always,” sighed Daring Do. “But this is also more of an experience thing.”

“Experience?” Rainbow Dash was clearly confused.

Daring Do nodded. “I’ve seen the remains of a lot of old pony cultures. Some are dying out, some died out a long time ago. Almost all of them are forgotten, or will be. Heck, give it another five hundred years and all this will be forgotten too.” She gestured to the room around her.

“And one of those civilizations was the Exmoori?”

“No. But they all reference things. Strange things. At first I kind of thought it was a coincidence, but now…”

“I don’t understand.”

“References to strange warriors who came bearing strange armor and weapons, who could defeat entire battalions but cared little for conquest. And the descriptions are always similar. Too similar.” Daring Do drew her legs up to her chest in thought. “And the interpretations are different. Gods. Demons. Foreigners, ancestors. Fear, love, reverence, stories. Only even in the oldest civilizations, those were already second-hand stories.”

Daring Do took the folio from Rainbow Dash and tucked it into her shirt. “It’s our stories,” she said. “Like the Mighty Helm. We tell stories about them even though they were so ancient even Celestia can barely remember them. But who did they tell stories about? Who was ancient when their civilization was still young?”

“The Exmoori.”

Daring Do sighed. “Maybe? I don’t know. But I have a hunch. Those rubbings were from a fresco carved by the Mighty Helm. And the Helm weren’t artists. If they took the time to sit down and copy the inscriptions from some ancient artifact, they must have had a darn good reason to.”

Rainbow Dash stared knowingly, her eyes almost quivering. It made Daring Do feel awkward- -but she still blushed slightly. In her mind, it had not sounded at all profound.

The awkward tension was interrupted, ironically, but Twilight’s sudden reappearance from the radially aligned stacks. She was levitating a number of texts behind her, although she did not have the expression of one who was pleased with herself.

“You found something,” asked Daring Do, although she spoke as though it was a statement.

“I found a lot of secondary sources if that’s what you mean,” muttered Twilight, setting the books near the giant hourglass. Doing so produced a substantial plume of dust. “As it turns out, Starswirl was a brilliant theorist and researcher of magical arcana, but he didn’t take too much interest in cultures that were otherwise not magically inclined.”

“So you found nothing.”

“Not at first, no. Well, a lot of things I found interesting, but not things you want I don’t think- -”

“Twilight,” reminded Rainbow Dash. “Focus?”

“Oh, right, right! Well, on a hunch, I decided to check the Clover the Clever Annex. She was almost as smart as Starswirl, but had a wider range of interests. And, well, she didn’t mysteriously vanish in her prime- -”

“And you found…?”

“Oh! Yes!” Twilight picked up a book and flipped through it. “Clover was aware of the Exmoori, at least tangentially. Not much is mentioned, but there’s a few passages referencing them.” Twilight’s expression grew darker. “Unfortunately, most of them are, well…not exactly academic.”

This time, both Daring Do and Rainbow Dash were confused.

“Meaning?” asked Daring Do.

“Meaning that almost all of the references recall another wizard. One Gxurab Al’Hrabnaz.”

“I don’t recognize that name,” said Daring Do. From the look of contempt on Twilight’s face, she was somewhat glad that she did not know it. Just saying the name made Twilight appear as though she was trying to swallow something slimy and fetid.

“That’s not surprising,” said Twilight, still staring at her book. “He wasn’t a nice pony. At all. But he was a contemporary of Clover the Clever. You could almost call them rivals.”

Twilight set down the book so that Daring Do and Rainbow Dash could see it. One of the pages displayed a woodcut: in it, a hooded mage- -clearly meant to be Clover the Clever- -stood surrounded by light and magical runes while a deformed, vicious creature in a flowing cloak and thick armor curled below her, preparing a counterattack.

Rainbow Dash looked somewhat disgusted. “What the heck is he?”

“No one is really sure what he was,” said Twilight. “This woodcut was from the eighth century, which was almost four hundred years after this would have taken place…but as a wizard, it’s generally assumed he was a unicorn. Before his use of dark magic deformed him.”

Daring Do looked up from the woodcut. “I don’t like the sound of this.”

“Al’Hrabnaz was one of the Black Thirteen,” said Twilight. “Mages hoof-picked by King Sombra to do…” She shook her head. “…to help him gain even more power. Some of them were much, much worse than Al’Hrabnaz.”

“And what, exactly, does this dark wizard have to do with the Exmoori?”

“He was apparently an expert in them,” said Twilight, clearly as surprised as Daring Do was. “That’s what Clover was referencing. That he was excavating artifacts, trying to use them to expand Sombra’s influence. Reverse engineering them.”

“To do…what?”

Twilight did not answer. She looked pale. Then she looked up. Her strange alicorn eyes met Daring Do’s. “I don’t know. I don’t think I want to. The Dark Thirteen disappeared a thousand years ago…but dark magic doesn’t care how long you wait. And it’s not something I want to mess with.”

“I know,” said Daring Do. “You know who you’re talking to, right?”

Twilight did not respond or react in any way. She looked back at the woodcut and the flattened, sharp-toothed figure that represented the elder wizard. “I can’t be sure,” she said at last, “but some of his works might have survived.”

Daring Do shivered. “What do you mean, ‘survived’?”

“The Crystal Empire disappeared shortly after Sombra’s first defeat. It was preserved perfectly for one thousand years. If his books are anywhere, that’s where they’ll be.”

“You don’t know?”

Twilight shook her head. “The Crystal Empire Library is out of the Canterlot system. I don’t know what’s kept there. I don’t know if anypony knows all of it. Most ponies aren’t allowed in there.”

“Why?” asked Rainbow Dash.

“In case any of his books actually are there,” said Daring Do, knowingly. “But if he was an expert on the Exmoori, I need to take the chance. I need those books.”

“I thought you might say that. I have a contact in the Crystal Empire.”

“You’re talking about Sunburst,” said Rainbow Dash.

Twilight nodded. “He’s been doing his own research on the old texts. He’s more of an academic than a wizard, but he can help you. I’ll send word you’ll be coming.”

“You can’t just teleport us?”

“NO!” said both Twilight and Daring Do at the same time. Twilight, surprised by the concurrence of their refusal, cleared her throat. “No,” she said, more calmly. “That distance would be impossible, even for me.”

“It’s moot anyway,” said Daring Do. “I already said. No teleportation, no portals. I’ll take the train.” She pointed at the books. “Do you have a duplicating machine?”

“There’s one in the lower levels, yes,” said Twilight.

“Good. I need copies of any references to the Exmoori. And of this.” She held out the folder with the rubbings.

“I can do that- -”

“No sense in making a Princess make copies,” said Daring Do. “Just show me where the machine is.” Twilight looked somewhat dejected, so Daring Do then added: “If you want, I’ll leave you a copy of this. So you can look it over. Who knows? Maybe you’ll see something I won’t.”

Twilight’s face lit up. “Right! I can do that!” She then happily lead Daring Do back toward the exit. Before the books behind her magically closed and joined her, Daring Do took one last look at the woodcut and the deformed dark wizard, permanently engaged in battle against the great Clover the Clever. She once again had a bad feeling- -and a sensation that she was being watched. Daring Do looked up to see several sickly crows standing over the skylight.

“Great,” she sighed. “The omens just keep getting worse and worse, don’t they?”

Chapter 5: Aboard the Crystal Express

Daring Do- -once again disguised as A.K. Yearling- -carefully lowered herself into the seat of the express train to the Crystal Empire. The line was new; in her youth, the idea of a train linking what had once been thought of a desolate area of southernmost Hyperboria to anything at all would have been inconceivable. Yet, somehow, one had been constructed in a matter of mere months.

She supposed it made sense. Celestia had wasted no time in securing the Crystal Empire as a fiefdom and placing a relative on the thrown. Exactly how Cadence and Celestia were related was unknown, and Daring Do had never contemplated it in detail. Politics mattered little to her. She was only glad for the train. Flying there manually, even with a jetstream, would have been too harrowing after such a long day, and teleportation was out of the question. Only a train would suffice, especially one with a sleeper car.

Her day had indeed been difficult. It had taken everything he had to get away from Twilight, and then more to get away from Rainbow Dash. While Daring Do appreciated that she had fans- -both of her writing as A.K. Yearling and of her exploits as Daring Do- -but there was a reason she had adopted the persona of a frumpy recluse. Fame or fortune were two things she had not only never desired for herself, but could not even comprehend the need for- -fame especially. She simply wanted to go about her life, doing what she was born to do; fawning fans did not help were with that goal.

The train started to move, and Daring Do removed a small notebook from her pocket. She began to flip through it, taking down several notes in neat, pert cursive written with her mouth. As she wrote, though, a shadow passed over her and she was aware of a pony sitting across from her.

“Excuse me,” she said, shifting the pen to the corner of her mouth. “I reserved this section. This isn’t your seat.” She looked up and nearly dropped her pen when she saw the multicolored mane on the pony across from her. “YOU!”

“Heeeey,” said Rainbow Dash, scratching the back of her head. “Fancy seeing you here, am I right?”

“I did not say you could come with me!” hissed Daring Do.

“What? Who said I was coming with you?” Rainbow Dash feigned offence. “I mean, I’m allowed to take the train too, aren’t I? Am I not allowed to have urgent business in the Crystal Empire? I mean, after all the time I’ve spent there. I literally know Shining Armor! And for the record, he’s pretty hot, but he has a really weird voice…”

“I don’t care!” cried Daring Do. Her seating was functionally a booth, separated by glass from the other booths, but her volume caused some other ponies to turn to her, visibly perturbed by her reaction. She forced herself to become more calm, even though a headache was already brewing in her temples. “Look,” she said. “Rainbow Dash.” Rainbow Dash squealed quietly at the utterance of her name by her idol. “I’m very busy. You do realize I’m going there to read books, right?”

“I like reading books!”

“You like reading MY books. Do you even read Crystalian?”

“Um…no?”

“I didn’t think so. You’re not going to be able to help me!”

“Who said I wanted to help you?” asked Rainbow Dash, suddenly in a huff. “I told you! I have my own business! We just happen to be on this train together!”

“A train that you knew I was taking!”

“Because we’re going to the same place! And here I was, thinking you might want a friend to keep you company!”

Rainbow Dash stood up, and Daring Do sighed audibly. “You don’t need to be so dramatic! Luna’s hips, you’re histrionic.”

“I don’t know what that means.”

“It means I’m not going to throw my biggest fan out. Even if she is being a tremendous annoyance and a little bit of a stalker. You can stay for a little bit if you just stay quiet.”

Rainbow Dash beamed, and Daring Do turned toward the window. In truth, Rainbow Dash was right. Adventures were one thing, but the prerequisite waiting was something else entirely. World-striding adventures were enjoyable in the heat of the action, but the time it took to travel the world was lonely. Daring Do, despite her solitary lifestyle, had spent far too much of her life alone with her thoughts.

She took out her notebook and began to flip through it.

“What’s that?” asked Rainbow Dash.

“Notes,” replied Daring Do curtly.

“About what?”

“About a lot of things. Usually things that don’t make much sense.”

“Like what?”

Daring Do looked up, and then stood. Rainbow Dash looked panicked for a moment, but instead of leaving Daring Do instead closed the collapsible door that linked her booth to the rest of the train. The walls were mostly glass, so she could see the others- -and any food carts that might be approaching- -but they were immediately shrouded in silence. Daring Do could not help but wonder if the glass was enchanted.

She then proceeded to describe the story of the events at the Get Out Inn to Rainbow Dash. Daring Do had always had the impression that her speech was not nearly as eloquent as A.K. Yearling’s writing, but Rainbow Dash seemed to hang on to every word with anticipation.

“Oh wow!” cried Rainbow Dash at the end of the story, awkwardly fluttering her wings but finding herself unable to fly in the confined space. “You beat up some sort of knight! A POWER-knight! That is the coolest thing EVER!”

“It’s not a big deal,” sighed Daring Do, turning back to her notebook. “There was only one of them, after all.”

“Only one? ONLY ONE?! Like- -have you even ever SEEN somepony like that?!”

“Not in person. But that’s what has me concerned.”

Rainbow Dash seemed confused but also intrigued. She sat back down. “What do you mean?”

Daring Do turned the notebook around. On one of the pages sat a perfectly drawn replica of the power-knight’s insignia, a white thistle on a red background. “Do you know what this is?”

Rainbow Dash cocked her head. “A spiky beachball with wings?”

“It’s a heraldic crest.”

“Like toothpaste?”

“No,” groaned Daring Do. She tapped at the page. “It’s an insignia representing an order of knights. And there’s only one order that uses the thistle.”

“So…you know who that guy was, then?”

“No. But I know what the thistle means. It’s called the Ancient Sign. It belongs to the Questlords of Inverness.”

“Most awesome name EVER. Why have I never heard of them?”

“Because they don’t exist anymore.” Daring Do turned the page around and looked at it. “Or at least they’re not supposed to. They were an anti-Celestian society of Templars. ‘Warriors of power steel/who hear galactic cry/unicorn defenders, unafraid to die’.” She paused, letting the effect of the couplet sink in. “They were said to be notable in that they wore indestructible suits of ‘strange mail’. Which I can only assume refers to this sort of power-armor.”

“But if they’re gone now…then how did they have that in the past?”

“Because decay overwhelms progress? In most cases, the ancient ponies were vastly more advanced than we are now.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“None of this does. Because I’m familiar with the Questlords, at least in a historical perspective. I went through one of their old castles once. Even after four thousand years, I almost didn’t get out with my feathers- -or my head- -attached to the rest of me.” She tapped at the diagram. “Which is how I know this is all wrong.”

“Wrong? But the guy who tried to get you was dressed in power-armor, just like these quest guys. And he had that toothpaste thing.”

“Heraldic crest,” snapped Daring Do. “And that’s the problem. The heraldry isn’t correct.” She turned the page and showed Rainbow Dash a different sketch, this one also of a thistle. “You see the crown? The Questlord heraldry has nine points on the flower. This one only has five. And the leaves have three points on the red one, when they’re supposed to have eight points on the left and seven on the right with the traditional.”

“And they’re different colors.”

“Exactly. The correct heraldry is green and pink over argent.”

“Argent?”

“It means gray. Or white. Because according to legend the Order was founded under the Horn dynasty, even by Second Horn himself- -” Rainbow Dash’s eyes were glazing, so Daring Do kept her summary brief. “What I’m saying is that it would NEVER be red. The argent background is sacred to them. Or was. It’s the most important part of the Sign.”

“So, what, then? This guy wasn’t a Questlord? Why would he have the thistle at all then?”

“Well, if he WANTED me to think that he was a Questlord. This isn’t exactly common knowledge.”

“But why would he do that? It doesn’t make any sense!”

“I know,” sighed Daring Do. “That’s what’s bothering me.”

“And why haven’t I heard of this before? I mean, you were in some castle belonging to ancient knights? I mean, there was probably suits of power armor walking around full of skeletons and stuff! Or weird traps with magical incantations! Why haven’t you written this down?!”

Daring Do’s eyes narrowed, and her tone became serious. “Because I don’t write down every story.”

“You- -you don’t?”

“There’s some I can’t. And some I won’t. Either because there are still ponies out there who would make sure those books never see the light of day…or because my goal wasn’t as successful as I had hoped at the start.”

“But…you’re Daring Do! You’re always successful!”

Daring Do leaned back, setting the diagram of the red-backed thistle beside her. “If only that were true…”

Rainbow Dash stared at her, and Daring Do could see doubt creeping into the younger pony’s eyes. It was strange how closely they resembled her own. Instead of falling silent, though, Rainbow Dash shook her head.

“No way! I’m not going to believe it, and you can’t make me!”

Daring Do smiled. “Huh,” she said. “You’re awfully confident.”

“Of course I am! Do you think I could do half the stuff I do if I wasn’t sure I could? I mean, come on, everypony knows I’m awesome. But you’re even more awesome! You’re DARING DO!”

Daring Do almost laughed. Fame had never been her interest, and while Rainbow Dash’s confidence in her may have been misplaced it was good to have a voice other than that of her own creeping regret. Rainbow Dash seemed to respond to this, and she smiled as well. After a few moments, both of them were laughing- -until Daring Do suddenly stopped.

Once again, Rainbow Dash was remarkably perceptive. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Okay,” said Daring Do, her voice suddenly becoming serious and her eyes turning back to Rainbow Dash from the glass partitions that surrounded the booth. “You’re going to need to listen to me very carefully and do exactly what I say. Got it?”

“I don’t like this…”

“Don’t look. Don’t turn your head. Look up at the glass over my head, at the reflection.” Daring Do watched Rainbow Dash’s eyes turn up, followed by a momentary look of confusion as she tried to interpret the reversed and double-reversed image- -and then her eyes widened as she saw them.

“You see them,” stated Daring Do. It was not a question, but a declaration of fact: they were now both aware of the group of three heavy-bodied, muscular ponies making their way through the center of the train, occasionally taking time to stick their heads into any open booths and shout at the occupants, or pound their hooves against the glass walls of those that were closed. All three of them were earth-ponies, and the largest among them was an enormous brown stallion with a bandana around his neck and a black Stetson hat.

“Road apples,” swore Rainbow Dash, weakly. “Who are those guys?”

“I think you know who they are. Come on.” Daring Do stood up. Rainbow Dash gasped.

“Wait! You can’t go out there!”

“I didn’t take you for a coward, Rainbow Dash.”

Rainbow Dash bristled. “That isn’t what I meant! If this is what I think it is, they’re looking for you- -”

“There’s no way they would know I’m here. And besides.” Daring Do pulled her frumpy A.K. Yearling hat over her graying mane and lifted her correspondingly frumpy shawl over her shoulders. “I’m not here. Just an aging, reclusive author.”

“Then what are you doing?”

“We’re going for a walk. To the other side of the train. These Crystal Empire trains have guards on them, don’t they? For customs?”

“I- -I don’t know! I’ve always been with Twilight, and her brother doesn’t let the guards near her! Especially that Flash Sentry guy…”

“That’s not helpful,” snapped Daring Do. She grabbed Rainbow Dash’s front leg, causing Rainbow Dash’s eyes to expand vastly.

“She’s…she’s touching me…”

“MOVE!”

Daring Do grabbed Rainbow Dash and began to pull her- -not hard enough to draw suspicion, but enough to hurry her on the course toward the rear of the train. As they left the seat, though, one of the thugs turned toward them. Daring Do caught his reflection in the back of the glass door.

“Hey, hey Biff! There she is! Rainbow mane at twelve!”

One of the group- -the moor lunkheaded of them- -looked at his watch, which was drawn on. “But it’s not even three!”

“Then grab her quick before we have to work overtime! MOVE!”

“Celestia’s fluffy wings!” swore Daring Do under her breath. She suddenly spread her wings and pushed forward. Flying on a train was no doubt rude, but proper social protocol would have to give way in this case. Rainbow Dash, despite being the superior flyer, was taken by surprise, both by being suddenly jerked forward and the fact that despite her advanced age and nearly crippled wings Daring Do was still a powerful flyer.

They raced quickly through the train, pushing passing ponies out of the way and overturning several food carts, much to both of their disappointments. The whole while, not one crystal guard was apparent. Daring Do had a sneaking suspicion that somehow, somepony had been bribed.

Their journey ended when they reached the baggage car. The door farther to the caboose was sealed and locked. The few windows that were present were small and obscured by mountains of poorly lit luggage.

Rainbow Dash tried the door. “I can’t get through! We’re going to have to jump out a window!” She dashed toward one of the windows and managed to open it, only to find that it was too small for her to fit her entire body through. As her head was out, though, the door to the car burst open and the three earth-pony thugs burst in.

“There she is!” cried one of them, pointing at Rainbow Dash. “She’s trying to make a break for it!”

“Well then quit blabbing and grab her! Lummox! Get the rope!”

“It wasn’t me!” cried Rainbow Dash. “I didn’t do it!”

“Excuse me!” shouted Daring Do, stepping forward, still in her A.K. Yearling disguise. “What is the meaning of this, chasing us all through the train?”

The hat-wearing pony shoved Daring Do, nearly knocking her over. “Out of the way, old lady! This isn’t any of your business!”

“Old lady!” cried Rainbow Dash. “You can do whatever you want to me, but calling her- -HER- -OLD! I hope you know some good bakers, because your buns are about to get ROASTED!”

Daring Do put her head in her hoof and groaned. The largest and clearly dumbest of the henchponies seemed confused and overjoyed at the same time. “Is it lunch time already? I want the whole grain ones because I need the fiber!”

“Quit talking and grab her! Tie her wings so she can’t get away!”

The thugs converged on Rainbow Dash, who, trapped against the luggage, prepared for a fight. Daring Do did as well, reaching for the whip concealed under her clothing- -even if using it would mean revealing her secret identity to a group who was guaranteed to remember it.

They all stopped, though, when they heard the door to the luggage care open.

“What the heck is this?!” cried a severely annoyed voice.

“Yeah. You’re going to want to turn back,” said the pony with the hat, not turning his head. “If you know what’s good for you.”

“No I’m not leaving! I came back here to have a sweet, it’s not my problem if you’re having some sort of weird luggage party.”

The pony in the hat, now quite clearly angry, turned around. As he did, both Rainbow Dash and Daring Do looked at who was speaking. The pony in question was highly unremarkable. She was an earth-mare, cream-colored, with a bicolored mane. She was wearing a thick pair of sunglasses and leaning against the door frame. As they watched, she nonchalantly produced a small wrapped candy and tossed it into her mouth.

Daring Do did not recognize her at all, but Rainbow Dash clearly did.

“Bon Bon?!”

“That’s a stupid name,” growled the pony with the hat. He stomped across the floor to her, looming over her. “But fine, if you want it the hard way, we’re all feminists here. Meaning we don’t mind beating you just as hard as we’d beat a stallion.”

Bon Bon stared at him for a moment, and then made an extremely rude gesture with her hooves. This seemed to enrage the pony with the dark hat, and he screamed and moved to punch her. Daring Do drew her whip, but before she could even fully draw it back the pony in the hat had received two sequential blows to his chest. With his wind knocked from him, he dropped to the ground, only to receive a powerful upward kick as Bon Bon flipped backward acrobatically.

The pony in the hat fell, and Bon Bon charged before the others could fully comprehend what was going on. The smaller of the two was slightly quicker, and he moved to grab her. The earth-mare ducked, sliding across the floor and spinning, kicking him in the shoulder and knocking him into the baggage. The larger, stupider pony then moved foreward, proving he was faster than he looked. He grabbed the earth pony in a bear hug, attempting to squeeze her into submission. She pulled her head back and spat her candy into his eye.

“My EYE!” he screamed. “I can see CANDY! Too close! TOO CLOSE!”

He released her, and she dropped to the ground, ducking under his legs before landing a swift kick against the back of one of his rear knees. His leg buckled and he shrieked. Rainbow Dash saw an opportunity and pushed him sideways and into his associate, who had just been climbing out of the baggage. They were both pushed in, and one of the higher bags burst open, raining several bowling balls onto the pair below. Only the larger of the two managed to weather the impacts enough to stand back up, although in a dazed state- -and Bon Bon sent him right back down with a punch to the jaw.

The whole room suddenly went silent, save for the sound of the bowling balls continuing to roll as well as the low groans of the injured ponies. Bon Bon took a deep breath and exhaled before returning to a normal standing position.

Rainbow Dash stared at her wide-eyed. “Bon Bon…”

“Agent Sweetie Drops,” replied Bon Bon, picking up her glasses from the floor as she stepped over a bowling ball. She put them on just as the pony who had been wearing a hat started to stand slowly. Sweetie Drops grabbed him by the bandana around his neck and, with barely any effort, pulled him to the window that Rainbow Dash had previously opened.

“Wait,” he said. “What- -what are you doing?”

Sweetie Drops stuck his head out the window. He struggled, but she pressed one of her free hooves into his ribs, causing him to howl.

“Bon Bon,” said Rainbow Dash. “What- -what’s going on- -why are you here- -”

Sweetie Drops ignored her. Instead, she addressed the pony she was holding. “Alright,” she said, speaking calmly but loud enough to be heard over the wind outside the train. “You’re going to tell me who you work for.”

“Cadence’s tail I’ll tell you!” he screamed back.

“Are you sure?”

“How about Celestia’s fat RUMP! That’s who I work for, you stooge!”

“That’s too bad. Because that’s also my boss, and I don’t remember seeing you at the company Hearthswarming party.”

“I’m not going to tell you anything!”

Sweetie Drops sighed. “Well, that’s too bad. Because, see, you can’t move. Not from this position. You can try, but I think you’ll find I spend a lot more time in the gym than you ever will- -and I never skip leg day. And if you turn your head to the right? You’ll notice that we’re coming up to a tunnel.”

The thuggish pony’s eyes went wide, but he still maintained an air of defiance. “You’re bluffing! You wouldn’t!”

“I wonder what the clearance is,” said Sweetie Drops, putting her hoof to her chin. “Probably a few inches…oh, wait, no. That’s right. These Crystal Empire trains are four spans wider than standard Canterlot trains. The gauge is fine…but they go through the tunnels with less than an inch of clearance.”

Now the pony being held looked outright terrified. “N- -no! Let me go! LET ME GO!”

He began to struggle, but Sweetie Drops was proven correct- -she was strong, and in the hold with her hoof against his ribs, there was nothing he could do. Neither of his friends were in any position to help him, either, and when he realized that his struggling was useless, he turned his head to the right- -only to burst into tears when he saw that Sweetie Drops was not lying about the tunnel.

“Please! Please let me back in!”

“Then tell me who you work for.”

“I can’t! I CAN’T!”

A train whistle sounded in the distance. “Oh. That means we’ve got…five hundred feet? Six hundred? It looks like you’re about to get a few inches shorter, doesn’t it?”

“No! NO! Please, I’m begging here!”

“Stop it!” cried Daring Do, putting her hoof on Sweetie Drops’s shoulder. “I already know who he works for! PULL HIM IN!”

Sweetie Drops stared at her for a moment, and then smiled and shrugged. With one quick jerk, she pulled the pony in- - just as the edge of the tunnel swept by, shrouding baggage car in near darkness save for an inadequate incandescent light in its center.

The pony took a step back, watching the tunnel pass- -and promptly fainted.

“Well,” said Sweetie Drops, kicking him in the side. “I hope you really do know. Because I really, really don’t feel like waiting for him to take a nap before I can start interrogating him.”

“His name’s Biff. He works for Dr. Caballeron.”

Rainbow Dash gasped. “I knew it!” she cried.

“Huh,” said Sweetie Drops, nodding. “Makes sense. For the most part.” She turned her blue eyes toward Daring Do. “But that doesn’t explain why they would be after Rainbow Dash and not you, Daring Do.”

Rainbow Dash gasped, but Daring Do just sighed. She removed her disguise. “Does everypony know my secrete identity now? How many ponies did Twilight tell?”

“Only Starlight,” noted Sweetie Drops. “I have different sources. I know exactly who you are. Daring Do, firstborn and only daughter of Well-To Do, who was himself the firstborn son of one Morning Dew, lover and assistant of the adventurer Daring Feats III. Both of whom, if I’m not mistaken, are the source of the inheritance that you use to fund your…ahem…‘adventures’.”

“And just who are you?” growled Daring Do. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

“Of course not. My name is Agent Sweetie Drops. I’m with- -”

“You’re with CRUT.”

Sweetie Drops wrinkled her nose. “I’ve always hated that acronym. ‘Committee for Research of Unusual Threats’. Ugh. Having a name completely ruins the mystique. But hey, they didn’t exactly ask my opinion, did they? Who cares what the grunts think.”

“You’re hardly a grunt if you can fight like that.”

“That’s a thought that’ll get you a beating one day. And at this rate? Sooner or later.” Sweetie Drops turned her head toward Rainbow Dash. “You okay, Rainbow?”

“Does…does Lyra know about this?”

Sweetie Drops sighed. “Yeah. She knows. Here.” She picked up a rope- -the very rope that had been meant to hogtie Rainbow Dash just moments before- -and threw it to the Pegasus. “Tie them. Tight. When your done and they wake up, I’m going to chuck them off the train.”

“There will be no chucking!” snapped Daring Do. “These guys aren’t who you’re after anyway! They’re just paid muscle. And not even well paid. I should know. I’ve dealt with them before.”

“A whole lot of times before,” noted Rainbow Dash.

“Less talking, more tying!” Sweetie Drops turned her head back to Daring Do. “So you have. Caballeron, was it?”

“Yes.”

“That confirms at least some of my suspicions.” Sweetie Drops leaned against some fallen luggage and kicked a bowling ball out of her way as she popped another candy into her mouth.

“What suspicions, if I may ask?”

“You have no right to. But what do I care? I’m not having a good day. I had to get called out of retirement for this bunk. You know I’m going to miss Lyra’s birthday? It’s going to break her little unicorn heart.”

“If you’re willing to talk, why are you deflecting?”

“I don’t know. Because it’s my job? Because maybe you’ll give up and walk away and let me clean up this mess before anyone notices?” She sighed. “You know, this was supposed to be an easy job. They pointed me to these shmucks, and I was going to get the information out of them. Easy in, easy out. No mess. But then you had to show up and mess it all up.”

“You have the information, don’t you?”

“And three witnesses…plus another two. But hey. Maybe you can help. You’ve had dealings with Caballeron?”

“You could say that.”

“They’re sworn enemies!” piped Rainbow Dash. Both Sweetie Drops and Daring Do ignored her.

“Well, the Agency- -I’m not calling it CRUT- -has had its eye on him for a while.”

Daring Do raised an eyebrow. “Since when does CRUT care about artifact smuggling?”

“Since always. Especially when some of those artifacts are ‘curios’ taken from dangerous monsters. Did you know a year ago he sold some moron a snorkack horn? The darn thing took out half a port in Locke Fet. Nopony was hurt…but half the things he’s smuggling could do A LOT worse.”

“I know that. Which is why I make an effort to stop him.”

“Yeah. By getting those artifacts for yourself.”

“And putting them in museums, where they belong.”

“What you do with them is not my problem. Neither are you. The Agency doesn’t mind you. It does mind Caballeron. And right now, he’s up to something big.”

“What kind of big?”

Sweetie Drops sighed, and took out another sweet. She popped it into her mouth.

“You know, those things are going to give you diabetes.”

“You can go buck an apple tree, Do. If you had to see what I saw, you’d be popping them twice as fast.”

“What happened?” asked Rainbow Dash. She had finished tying up her captives, several of whom were starting to wake- -and one of whom was crying softly. Once again, Rainbow Dash seemed oddly perceptive; her face was lined with worry.

“We put a mole in his organization. It wasn’t easy. Agent Sugarloaf. A nice girl. I trained her in the academy. And then, suddenly, last week, she didn’t make a scheduled dead-drop.”

Daring Do winced. “They found her.”

“Yeah. And so did we. With her head covered in maple syrup and shoved into a flash-bee hive.”

Rainbow Dash gasped, and became pale if not outright greenish. “Is- -is she- -”

“We have good doctors. Unicorn ones. They’re pretty sure they can get her sight back. And they think she might even be able to talk again someday. But her career is over. They knew that when they put her in there.”

“Didn’t…didn’t they try to do that to you once?” asked Rainbow Dash, turning to Daring Do. “But you whistled the exact wing frequency of a queen bee and- -”

“Road apples,” swore Sweetie Drops. “That would never work.”

“But it did- -”

“Rainbow, quiet.” It had, of course, happened, but Daring Do saw no need to push that fact, especially considering another girl- -one who had formerly had such a promising if dangerous future as a spy- -had not been so lucky. “Yeah. Caballeron does that. He hates disloyalty.”

“Obviously. But…”

“But what?”

“But we found a note. Sugarloaf had swallowed it. It’s part of our training. We recovered it. She wasn’t found out. Somepony fingered her.”

“What the heck is a finger?” asked Rainbow Dash.

“It doesn’t matter. The note wasn’t very big. She didn’t have a lot of time to write it.”

“What did it say?”

“White ponies. Pegasi with red eyes. They showed up and gave Caballeron a document. A rubbing. One that looked curiously similar to a critical classified document that went missing in transit four months ago.”

“Didn’t you hear? Twilight’s changing the archives. Nothing’s classified anymore.”

“Twilight has no idea what she’s doing. And doesn’t have any real authority. Only Celestia’s word is true divine law.”

“You take that back!” cried Rainbow Dash.

“Rainbow, hush.” Daring Do sighed. Of course it was still classified. These things were never easy.

“That particular text was sealed by Celestia’s direct order, too,” said Sweetie Drops, slowly. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about this particular document, would you?”

Daring Do made not change to her expression. “And why should I tell you?”

Sweetie Drops stepped forward, crunching through her candy. “Because if my math’s right, there’s another tunnel coming up in less than three minutes…”

“You think you can take us both on?” asked Rainbow Dash, fluffing her wings angrily. Daring Do winced; it did not look nearly as threatening as Rainbow Dash seemed to think it did.

“I know I can. Because I actually have the proper training to be doing this. I’m a professional. You’re not. Whatever Caballeron’s looking for? I don’t really care. But he’s going down. And if you get in my way on some half-butted quest for the Dongle of Power or Butterchurner of Victory of whatever the heck that idiotic untranslatable rubbing tells you, so are you.”

Daring Do’s eyes narrowed. “You knew I was on this train.”

“And I knew that they were looking for Rainbow Dash. Because they’re trying to get to you through her. Caballeron’s making a preemptive strike. I just helped them along…and got what I needed in the process.”

Sweetie Drops turned away curtly and opened the door to the baggage car. Before leaving, she looked over her shoulder at Rainbow Dash. “And if you tell Lyra about any of this, I’ll shave you in your sleep and paint you green. And Fluttershy too.”

And, with that, she left, leaving Daring Do and Rainbow Dash standing alone in the baggage car- -alone, save for three of Caballeron’s henchmen, all of whom were now watching the proceedings intently.

“Well, buck,” said Rainbow Dash. “That was unsatisfying.”

Chapter 6: Den of Thieves

The streets were bustling and cramped. Even after nightfall, the market still continued, although its more unsavory aspects had come to be displayed far more earnestly. This was not a place that was normally accessible to tourists- -those that came to visit the city-state of Signapone would invariably return with tales of a beautiful city of almost excessively stringent unicorn cleanliness. It was modern, sleek, fashionable, and rich- -but no city anywhere in Equestria, save for perhaps Canterlot itself- -could boast all of those things.

This was a place that few non-locals ventured to- -and those non-locals that did were certainly not tourists. Dilapidated, dirty buildings loomed over the crooked streets, leaning outward over them and blocking what little light came from the moon above. Instead, torches of every kind had been lit amongst the nocturnal shop stalls: decorative lamps lit by candles, brilliant but ominous magical crystals, and, in a few cases, outright torches.

Caballeron moved through these streets with ease and familiarity- -but with no lack of disgust. This was the sort of place he tended to frequent in his line of work, but it was by no means one he enjoyed. It was no place for a pony of high birth and higher education; the world was indeed in a sad state when a pony such as himself was relegated to such dirty and unpleasant territories. Yet, in the name of profit, there was nothing that he would not do- -a fact that Caballeron reflected on with great pride.

And this market was by no means the worst. It was a den of strange thieves and every manner of debauchery conceivable from ponies, from the consumption of excessive quantities of purified, high-grade salt to for-profit snuggling, but at least the majority of the occupants were ponies. Far stranger and more unpleasant things could be witnessed during the sleepiest daytime hours in the mutant-infested markets of the Badlands, a place that even Caballeron would not approach for any less than his weight in Canterlot bits.

At his side walked a tall and slender earth-mare. Her entire body was ochre in color, and her mane and tail were both raven black and perfectly straight. She wore an ornate dress in shades of black and white, complete with a number of well-placed metallic buckles. She would have been quite beautiful, save for her large and strange blue-green eyes.

“Herr doktor,” she whined, rubbing against him in the process. Caballeron winced. He did not like her touching him. “You look so very tired! You should not be out here at this hour. You should be in bed! In fact, both of us should be…” She pushed her snout against Caballeron’s neck, and he gently pushed her away.

“I am aware of what I look like,” snapped Caballeron. He was all-too familiar with the deep bags that had formed under his eyes, and the stubble on his chin that had grown even longer than usual. “But if I have time to sleep, then I have time to work!”

“I don’t think I mentioned sleep, herr doktor.”

“Regardless,” he grunted, “time is of the essence, Argiopé. And translating Exmoori is hardly a simple task. Whoever devised it was clearly a moron or a poet.” Caballeron laughed humorlessly. “Although I suppose the two are the same, no? It requires the greatest precision and concentration! I cannot allow myself to be distracted.”

“Not even by me, I suppose?” she growled.

“Not by anything- -and yet here I am, having to do work that was SUPPOSED to be done for me!” He stamped his hoof in anger. Argiopé stared at him, seeming mildly amused. She appreciated his passion; it was in fact one of the reasons why she had accepted her position.

Caballeron continued to grumble. “Of course! They claim to pay me upfront, and what do they give me? Crystals!”

“Extremely valuable crystals,” noted Argiopé. With her accent, she pronounced “crystals” as “crEE-stahls”.

“Indeed! Extremely valuable crystals I have no way to liquidate! So now I have to fund all of this out of pocket, and do the work myself!”

“You would not have to do the work, herr doktor, if you hadn’t sent Biff and his grunts to track down Daring Do.” She growled with contempt at the name, her face contorting violently before she was able to restore control over her countenance. “If you had them, you would not need to hire this filthy ‘local muscle’, as Rogue so eloquently describes it. We could be back on a silk bed, and you could be counting these adorable buckles on my dress. One. By. One.”

Caballeron did his best not to wince. Argiopé was demanding, but valuable. “As I said,” he explained, “if we succeed at recovering this task, we will have more money than we can ever dream about.”

“So you can be attended by well-formed zebra maidens?”

Caballeron smiled. Had Argiopé been a normal pony, she would have blushed. “I think I have one particular zebra in mind, perhaps?”

“Oh, well, herr doktor…”

“But this job, it is far too important to allow HER to interfere! With the cost I’ve spent funding this? It would ruin me!”

“I’ve tried to track her. It is not possible. Let alone for Biff. He access in, more of, how do you say? Hitting things.”

“We cannot find Daring Do herself, no. She is too well hidden.” A sly and vicious smile crossed Caballeron’s face. “But the rainbow pony, the Rainbow-Dash. I believe her to be Daring Do’s daughter. The resemblance is uncanny. And even if she is not, Daring Do clearly cares deeply for her.”

“So you remove this Rainbow Dash…”

“And send Daring Do on a wild-goose chase to get her back, while we snatch our goal without interference!” He laughed manically.

“And you trusted this to Biff?”

Caballeron suddenly stopped laughing. “My darling, my dearest Argiopé,” he said, “do not underestimate those in my employ. Biff is brutish and cruel, but those are both excellent qualities. And he has excellent taste in facial hair.”

“I wish I could shave you.”

“Don’t be vulgar. And don’t disparage Biff. Or the value of ‘local muscle’.”

Argiopé looked up and saw that they had reached the front of a garishly adorned bar. The smell of salt was thick, as well as pony sweat and stale, poor quality perfume that Argiopé herself would never dream of allowing near her perfectly formed body. Caballeron immediately put a hoof against her chest- -causing her to greedily embrace him- -only for her to be gently pushed out of the way as a badly bruised stallion was thrown out of the bar with enough force to upset a nearby street vendor’s cart. Illegal cabbages rolled into the street as the old mare who had been hawking them began to berate the heavily salted stallion lying in the street.

“Charming,” groaned Argiopé.

“Indeed,” muttered Caballeron. Still, he took a deep breath and pushed his way into the establishment.

Light surrounded him. It was not bright and artificial, but came from a substantial number of candles and fireplaces that had been lit despite the warmth. The place was cavernous, although mostly windowless, as if several of the looming dark buildings had been hollowed out and linked to make it. The reason was quite obvious: it was popular. Harsh-looking ponies were cavorting throughout, many of them prancing and frolicking with reckless opinions, or drinking cider with at least one heavily made up mare- -or stallion- -at their sides.

Argiopé wrinkled her nose. “Who would have thought the great Doctor Caballeron would be seen in such a tasteless and filthy place.”

A passing mare- -a tiny kiso girl in a fluffy pink dress- -perked up at hearing his name.

“A doctor?” she said, her eyes widening. “Oh, my! We rarely have such learned stallions here! Or so handsome! Are you a MD or DVM?”

The mare approached Caballeron to hold onto his leg, but was frozen in her tracks by an icy gaze from Argiopé. When the poor kiso girl did not immediately retreat, Argiopé suddenly leaned forward, opening her mouth far wider than any pony’s mouth would be able to separate, revealing a mouth full of needle-like fangs and a long, forked tongue. She hissed aggressively.

The girl immediately screamed and burst into tears, running away and trailing a surprisingly extensive pool of liquid behind her. Caballeron laughed at her. “PhD, actually,” he said. As tired as he was, Argiopé’s antics had made him just slightly happier. That was quite unusual for her.

Despite her outburst, Argiopé quickly regained her composure. Caballeron found that second aspect of her personality particularly useful: despite her strange appetites, she was a fervent professional.

“My apologies, herr doktor,” she muttered, although she was clearly not remotely apologetic. Her hazy blue-green eyes suddenly turned upward as she looked across the room. “Ah. Here is Rogue.”

“I see him,” said Caballeron. He pushed his way through the crowd toward his employee, and saw that Rogue was not alone- -although much to his dismay, the stallion beside him did not look nearly like he had envisioned he would.

Mainly because he was not a stallion at all- -or at least not a pony stallion. He was a zebra. Not an especially large one, either, although he was quite well dressed: he wore a rather expensive suit jacket left open near the top to reveal the fact that it was lined with leopard-print silk. Like most of his people, he also wore an abundance of gold bands. His suit seemed to have been selected to match them.

“Rogue,” said Caballeron, not taking his eyes off the zebra. “I certainly hope you did not spend all of my discretionary funds on snuggling sessions.”

Rogue appeared mildly shocked but took the insult with professionalism that nearly rivaled Argiopé’s. “No, boss,” he said, trying his best to ablate his thick accent. “I’ve been interviewing. Just as you asked. And this bloke topped the list.”

“This one? Really?”

The zebra laughed. “Ah! From my expensive clothing, you cannot tell/ that I am not a zebra stallion with that type of services to sell?”

“Ah,” said Caballeron. “A couplet. Am I to assume you are Zebabwean, then?”

The zebra raised a striped eyebrow. “It seems you have met some of my kin/ to so astutely guess my origin. Though I must admit, my homeland I do spurn/ as I have been forbidden to ever return.” He laughed again before his yellow eyes stopped on Argiopé. A strange expression came over his face. “I see you have strange choices in protection/ as this one is quite an unusual selection.” He bowed deeply. “But a mare of such beauty is indeed a rare find.” He grinned as he allowed his leopard-print jacket to fall open slightly, and Argiopé’s face contorted in hatred when she saw a small, leaf-wrapped package of mud in one of his inner pockets. “But do not think that this zebra is blind,” he chuckled.

“Well you’re certainly observant,” said Caballeron, his confidence in Rogue at least partially restored. “But I didn’t ask for just one zebra.”

“Of course you did not!” laughed the zebra. “Just one zebra would not be a lot!”

“Does he have to rhyme?” growled Argiopé through gritted teeth. “It is infuriating.”

“I like it,” said Rogue, attempting to be diplomatic. “So, Zel, do you think we can give my boss a peep in the back?”

“If you have the bits to pay/ I think I’m about to make your day.”

He turned quickly and, with Rogue standing beside him, led them through the establishment toward one of the doors in the rear, past the salt-strewn bar.

The door led to a system of poorly-lit corridors. In some of them, ponies lay collapsed, dehydrated from far too much salt-licking. From above, the cooing and giggling of snuggling and cuddling could be heard, which drew Argiopé’s intense attention. The whole place smelled of mold and damp, and it was clear that it had not been washed in months- -or perhaps ever. It was a smell Caballeron had become familiar with, and it was one that had come to saturate many of those lower in the hierarchy of his organization.

“I market mercenaries, soldiers, rogues, and the occasional patsy,” said Zel. “Come, come! Take a look and see!”

Zel opened a larger, heavier door, and a blast of cooler air wafted out. The room was larger and almost entirely empty; the sounds of the rowdy front of the building died away as Caballeron entered what he immediately perceived to be a storage room. The room was not empty, though- -and it held more than boxes of produce and packs of low-cost salt licks.

A number of individuals suddenly stood up, rising from a table where they had been playing cards or sitting by, watching. When they saw Zel, though, they immediately calmed down, if only partially.

“Whose this, Zel?” asked a grizzled Pegasus mare with a Mohawk. “You’ve got us a job?”

“This is a famous doctor of archeology/ looking to do some deeds unsavory. My new friend Rogue claims the pay will be a lot/ so I chose to let his boss see what we have got.”

Caballeron stepped forward and looked through the various ponies who sat throughout the room. The majority of them looked like the normal sorts of rogues and miscreants he tended to hire, the only difference being that the loyalty of these workers would be far less assured- -and they would be more disposable. The only individuals of note were a female minotaur who was sitting near the table and curling a large dumbbell vigorously, a scrawny but harsh looking unicorn who bore a tattoo of the crest of a famous Bittish magic school, and a pair of individuals sitting apart from the rest in the rear. One was a griffon, and the other an earth-pony; both were pure black, with only their bright yellow- -and seemingly unblinking- -eyes standing out against their shadow-like bodies.

“Who are those two?” asked Caballeron.

“Those two are newer to my team than the others/ and though it may seem quite strange, they claim that they are brothers.”

“A pony and a griffon,” sneered Argiopé. “I would hate to see their mother.”

“Yo!” called the grizzled Pegasus. “Hey, doctor whatever the heck your name is.”

“Caballeron.”

“Sure. Zel says you’re an archeologist? Then what do you need us for. Are we going to be digging holes or something? Because I don’t do dirt. Unless I’m shoving some fat nub’s face into it!”

“YEAH!” cried the female minotaur. “Shove his FACE in it! DO IT! DO IT NOW!”

The grizzled Pegasus took a step toward Caballeron, and Argiopé began to bristle at the thought of another female approaching him. Caballeron, however, turned to Zel. “I see you have problems controlling them, perhaps?”

“Not even slightly/ as those who CONTINUE to work for me behave quite rightly.”

He glared, and the Mohawk-Pegasus winced. “Sorry, Zel,” she said. She turned toward Caballeron. “Doctor Caballeron, is it?”

“Indeed. That is my name. You may have heard of me. I’m quite famous.”

“I haven’t.” Before Zel could glare again, she interrupted him. “Not that that’s a problem. But we’re good to go. Doesn’t matter what it is. I’ve got grandkids that need to eat, and Dropoff over there has to pay for his braces. We’ll do whatever you need.”

“Don’t be so rash,” said Zel. “I will make the contract, but only if he has the cash.”

Caballeron paused, staring at the “local muscle”. Then he smiled. “This will do.” He turned to Zel. “I think we can come to an agreement. Perhaps over some fine cider?”

Zell smiled. It was a cruel smile. “My mercenaries will pass any test/ come to a deal with me, and we’ll drink my very best.”

The two of them departed toward a more private- -and more civilized- -office. Neither could have known that both of them had already been betrayed, and actions had already been set into motions. Actions that were precisely calculated to better distribute the balance of power, and not at all for the sake of fairness.

Chapter 7: The Library

Daring Do was floating. All around her, she felt the familiar sensation of the Void. The eternal, lightless abyss surrounded her, extending outward in all directions. This was the same emptiness that she had encountered more than once; it was where she went whenever she was being teleported.

Except that this time, it was different. She was aware of a sensation of time passing: not seconds, exactly, but units of time that were close, at least in her mind, even though each unit was in fact several hundred million years.

There was also a sense of motion, even though motion was impossible. It was a strange motion, though. Not the sudden click and sensation of being dragged forward that accompanied a controlled teleportation, nor the turbulent, agonizing course of the unstable portal in the Tower of Ducks. Nor was it something that she only remembered distantly, a strange sense of travelling obliquely, pulling forward and across the endless chasm. Instead, Daring Do felt herself falling.

The Void retreated, and Daring Do felt herself continuing her descent through the universe- -through blackness devoid of stars and through burning air, the heat of which somehow was unable to touch her. Then she fell to the ground. Distantly, she was aware that it should have been painful. Instead, though, she felt nothing.

She lay still for a long time. She was not in pain, but rather simply apathetic to her surroundings. Then, as she began to grow curious, she stood, and looked at the world around her. A dull and ominous fear began to surge through her as she remembered who she was. She was an extension of the endless and nonexistent space between realities; she was Daring Do.

The world around her was strange. Daring Do had ventured into many jungles throughout Equestria, and although she was no botanist she had come to know the names and shapes of nearly every plant and stone that she might use to point her way toward ancient temples and forgotten ruins. The plants that surrounded her, though, were entirely unfamiliar to her, as were the stones that surrounded them. The rocks were jagged, and the plants seemed to be odd, enormous mosses and strange, singular cycads with massive, gnarled roots and leaves that swayed gently without any breeze. No animals were present; the air was silent, with not even the sounds of birds detectable in the humid but frigid forest.

Confused, Daring Do began to walk through the strange forest of moss, cycads, and gnarled horsetails, her hooves dipping through the swampy ground and clicking on black volcanic stone that only very seldom held odd, multicolored lichen.

When she came to a hill, she was able look out over a vast plane. They sat there, waiting for her. She had felt them since she had arrived, but did not understand how to put her perception into words. They stood apart from each other, evenly spaced as if planted by some vast divine hand: indescribable metal things that stood over the vast and endless jungle, silver flowers thousands of meters high that were lit from within by a ghastly blue light. Daring Do did not even realize that she was screaming in abject horror- -or that she stopped when she felt a hand on her shoulder.

She turned suddenly, but did not understand what was behind her. There was no word in the Equestrian language for it, and her mind could not give it a shape. All she felt was the hand as its fingers slowly closed around her neck, stifling any screams as the world faded to gray and finally black.

“Hey? Daring Do, we’re here.”

Daring Do awoke with a start, instantly grabbing the hoof that was gently shaking her shoulder. Rainbow Dash did not even recoil in surprise, clearly not realizing how close she had just come to having her limb broken in several places.

As the ponies exited the train, Daring Do stared at them, carefully watching and taking account of them as they left. Many were there on business, or perhaps as tourists, and a number of crystal-ponies were happily returning home. None of them interested Daring Do terribly much; she was instead looking for Sweetie Drops. Unfortunately, she did not see the mare. She was not sure if she had somehow exited the train during the overnight trip- -which seemed unlikely for a pony without wings, but she would not have put it past a CRUT agent- -or if, somehow, Sweetie Drops had completely disappeared into the background and rendered herself effectively invisible.

“Hey,” said Rainbow Dash. “Is something wrong?”

“No,” lied Daring Do. A crow cawed in the distance. “Everything’s fine.”

“Well, we should probably get going.” Rainbow Dash stretched. The sight was actually rather adorable. “I really need to stretch my wings.” She took to the air, but then seemed confused that Daring Do did not join her. “Do you not want to fly?”

“I’ll walk.”

“Oh.” Rainbow Dash reluctantly landed. “Then I will too.”

They started walking from the train platform. It led immediately to a long, perfectly made street that had just a slight uphill slope. Ahead, in the distance, Daring Do was able to see the Crystal Citadel, an impossibly vast tower of glimmering, reflective crystal that rose high above the multicolored crystal structures that emerged from the warm, grassy ground. Despite the warm and pleasant climate, though, Daring Do was distinctly aware of the fact that just outside the radius of the Citadel’s protective magic, the land around the Crystal Empire was barren and frozen for countless hundreds of miles.

Her feet tapped softly on the crystal street, and Daring Do sighed audibly as she stared at the Citadel and surrounding buildings.

“What is it?” asked Rainbow Dash. She was as perceptive as ever.

“Did you know,” said Daring Do, “that I spent the first twenty years of my career searching for this place? For the lost Crystal Empire, the kingdom of the dark Crystal King Sombra. And now here I am, walking down a crystal street. I took an express train to get here, slept in a sleeper car on the way and had a Danish for breakfast.”

“But you’re finally here. That’s something, isn’t it?”

“It’s not the same, Rainbow. It’s like…” It was like something was stolen from her, a chance for something she would have savored for her entire lifetime. To have been the one to have discovered the Crystal Empire- -and yet here she was, standing in a fully functional city that already had a ruling Alicorn, a Prince-Consort, a royal daughter, and a population as fully versed in the Empire’s ancient traditions as they were train schedules or the cost of exported crystal.

Daring Do did not finish her sentence, though. She only sighed, and became aware of a unicorn trotting toward them.

“Sunburst!” cried Rainbow Dash, taking to the air and waving him over.

“Oh my Cadence!” he wheezed, reaching them but nearly doubling over from the exertion of a simple canter. “I’m not in shape!” He gasped. “I’m sorry! I got caught up in an argument about matrix structure in invisibility, and I lost track of time!”

“Wait. YOU were arguing with somepony? Like, in person?”

“Well, no, it was in a letter to Moonda- -” Sunburst froze and suddenly blushed. “- -to a colleague!”

Daring Do took note of the unicorn’s features. It was immediately apparent that he was an academic, or perhaps even a wizard: he wore an appropriately starry cape, complete with an ornate crystal buckle shaped into what Daring Do assumed was the form of his cutie mark. He also wore a pair of round glasses that only succeeded in exacerbating his appearance as a hopeless academic; Daring Do was immediately reminded of the way Dulcimer had looked.

Except that this pony seemed remarkably young, especially for one interested in pursuing magic. Young wizards were an especially rare commodity. Daring Do was also sure to note that- -assuming he did not dye it that way, which would have been ridiculously pretentious- -he had a bicolored coat, complete with white stockings and a blaze. Though his mane and beard were both disheveled, if Daring Do had been twenty years younger she almost surely would have made an advance on him. Even if he did turn out to be married.

Sunburst seemed to notice Daring Do’s wandering eyes, and cleared his thought. “Oh,” he said. “Hello there. Twilight mentioned that Rainbow Dash would be bringing somepony. I didn’t realize it would be her mother!”

Rainbow Dash gasped, and Daring Do’s gaze sharpened. “I’m not her mother.”

“Oh! My- -my apologies, it’s just that- -well- -you look so similar- -”

“Do you have any idea who you’re talking too?” snapped Rainbow Dash. “This is Daring- -I mean A.K. Yearling! You know, famous author?”

“I can’t say I recognize the name.”

Daring Do raised an eyebrow. “Do they not publish Daring Do novels in the Crystal Empire?”

“Oh, well, no, but they are available in some of the bookshops. I never read them myself, of course. They’re just too stressful. And I tend to have a preference for nonfiction.”

“So the Crystal Ponies don’t read the books either?”

“No, they can’t. They only read Crystallic. And translation is surprisingly difficult, because of several linguistic anomalies- -”

“Excellent.” Daring Do swept off her shawl and glasses, shaking out her long gray mane as she did so. Sunburst- -and Rainbow Dash to a lesser extent- -both blushed heartily.

“What?” said Daring Do. “It’s like you’ve never seen a mare naked before.”

“I- -I haven’t,” sputtered Sunburst.

“Dude, yes you have!” snapped Rainbow Dash. She pointed at herself. “Um, hello?!”

“Oh- -sorry- -I forgot.” He stammered for a moment longer and then turned around. He cleared her throat. “Well,” he said. “How about we get to that library?”

Sunburst led the way, although the path was not difficult to discern. The Empire was laid out radially, and the Crystal Citadel was no doubt visible from every portion of the empire, even out into the grassy fields that reached all the way to the icy border.

It took a bit for Sunburst to regain his composure, but when he did, he became more talkative.

“So,” he said. “Twilight informed me that you were interested in information on the Exmoor ponies.”

“The Exmoori. Yes.” Daring Do frowned as she fell in step with Sunburst, who despite being taller was not nearly athletic. Rainbow Dash hung in the air behind them, listening. “That’s odd…”

“What is?”

“That you didn’t immediately dismiss them as a myth.”

“A myth?” Sunburst seemed both surprised and confused. Then he laughed. “Oh, no! Of course they’re not a myth!”

“They aren’t?” asked Rainbow Dash.

“No. Not here. In the Crystal Empire, it is widely believed- -if not outright known- -that the Exmoori were real.”

“Why here?” asked Rainbow Dash, still clearly confused.

Sunburst paused, thinking as he walked. “Well,” he said, “I suppose it’s because they’re closer to history than you or I are. They are over a thousand years old, after all. That, and it’s common knowledge that the Crystal Empire was built on Exmoori ruins.”

Daring Do stopped walking. “Wait,” she said. “What?”

“Oh,” said Sunburst. “I assumed you knew. Sorry. Isn’t that why Twilight sent you?”

“No no no, we’re not getting off topic. You said this place is BUILT on Exmoori ruins?”

“Well, yes. They’re supposedly rather extensive.”

“I need to get into them. As soon as possible.”

“Into them?” Sunburst suddenly looked afraid. “I- -I’m sorry, but that’s not possible!”

“Then you are going to make it possible!”

“I can’t! The majority of the ruins are collapsed, closed off! You wouldn’t be able to get to them even if you tried! And whatever is still accessible is unstable. Not that you would want to go there.”

“I’m not afraid of danger.”

“It’s actually her middle name,” whispered Rainbow Dash.

“No it isn’t.”

“It’s not a matter of how dangerous it is!” exclaimed Sunburst. “All of the caverns that we have access to were stripped clean a long, long time ago. There’s nothing there. Just empty holes. The only part of the ruins that’s actually intact is the Citadel.”

Daring Do and Rainbow Dash both stared at Sunburst. “What?”

“You mean you didn’t know?” Sunburst pointed at the Crystal Citadel. “According to legend, the Crystal Citadel itself was built by the Exmoori as a housing for the Crystal Heart. No pony knows why or even how, or how it stayed in such good condition.” He paused. “Although, I suppose it looked different fifteen thousand years ago. Sombra made substantial changes to it. So did Cadence.”

At the mention of the Dread King’s name, several passing crystal ponies squeaked in terror and retreated. Sunburst winced.

“They’re still afraid,” noticed Rainbow Dash.

“Like I said. They’re over a thousand years old. Every crystal pony you see today older than four years was once enslaved. I can’t even imagine what they had to go through.”

The trio passed into the Crystal Citadel with ease. Sunburst was, apparently, a wizard of great importance. The majority of the guards simply stepped out of his way wordlessly. Daring Do stared long at each one, admiring the translucence of their crystalline beings. She also paused to admire the fabled Crystal Heart. She would have given her right hoof to have been the one to discover it. Now it sat in the very center of the empire, slowly revolving below the four-legged Crystal Citadel and radiating a strange glow of pure love. A crowd had gathered around it to bask in the glow, consisting both of ponies of every race and whimsically colorful Thoraxian changelings.

They did not tarry around the Heart, though. They quickly moved up into the Citadel itself. From what Daring Do understood, this structure had once been Sombra’s tower, although it had been far more advanced than the term usually denoted in relationship to unicorn mages. While every powerful wizard had a tower, Sombra’s had been a seat of horrors: his own thrown, his stables of personal slaves, and numerous dungeons where unspeakable acts were performed on prisoners for his own amusement. Daring Do even supposed that some of the Dark Thirteen- -possibly including Gxurab Al’Hrabnaz- -had held their offices as members of the dark court.

Under the rule of the alicorn Cadence, however, the nature of the tower had been completely redefined. It now served not only as her and her family’s personal residence, but as a center for a number of municipal functions. Her personal royal library- -which Daring Do surmised and hoped she had inherited much of from Sombra himself- -was one of these.

“So,” said Sunburst as they approached through the long, curving crystal hallways. “Do you have a grasp of Crystallic?”

“I can read it. I can’t speak it worth a darn.”

Sunburst laughed. “Well, of course not! You’re not a crystal pony. At least not that I’m aware of.”

“Nope. Just an ordinary Pegasus.”

Rainbow Dash snorted with laughter. “Ha! Ordinary! She’s an expert in over fifty eight languages!”

“Well, then, we shouldn’t have too much trouble going through the texts. Although I’m afraid they’re not organized well.”

“Twilight recommended one specific author. Gxurab Al’Hrabnaz.”

There was a sudden clattering from down the hall, as well as a stifled scream. Daring Do turned to see that the source of the sound was a guard dropping his crystal lance. Him and several of his comrades had blanched entirely at the name of the wizard. One of them burst into tears, and a mare took hold of him to lead him away, glaring the whole while at Daring Do. The others shakily made strange signs with their hooves and retreated, leaving their weapons behind.

“Please don’t say that again,” said Sunburst. “Not out here. Once we’re in the library, but not here.”

“Why?”

“I told you. Because they’re still afraid.”

Sunburst hurried them along until they reached a large and ornately decorated door. Above it was written some text in Crystallic- -although Daring Do was perceptive enough to notice that the motifs that surrounded it bore a striking semblance to several depicted on the rubbings she was carrying.

Two guards were stationed outside. Daring Do had no idea why guards were always stationed at libraries, but alicorns seemed to place a premium on books. One of the ponies was a large and gloriously many crystal mare; the other was an orange Pegasus.

The Pegasus seemed to recognize Rainbow Dash.

“Rainbow!” he said, perking up. “Hey! Have you heard anything from Twilight- -”

“Shut it, Flash Sentry,” groaned Rainbow Dash, passing by him and ignoring him. “No one likes you.”

Flash drooped. The large mare on the other side of the door smiled. “I like you, Flash.”

Flash Sentry shivered. Daring Do pretended not to notice.

As they entered the library, orange magic surrounded the door and closed it. Daring Do was immediately surrounded by profound quiet; despite being made from crystal, the acoustics of the room were perfect. They were completely alone, surrounded by nothing but several levels of extensive bookshelves.

“I never liked this one,” said Rainbow Dash. “It’s always kind of creepy.”

“Agreed,” said Sunburst, surprising both Daring Do and Rainbow Dash. He turned around. “So. Twilight did mention the rather…particular author you were looking for. I didn’t think you were serious.”

“Do you have anything?”

Sunburst stared at Daring Do for a long moment, and then sighed. “Yes,” he admitted. “Unfortunately, we do.”

He began to lead Rainbow Dash and Daring Do across the labyrinthine library.

“Why ‘unfortunately’?”

Sunburst looked over his shoulder. “Because Gxurab Al’Hrabnaz was a very, very dark wizard. You have to understand that.”

“I know. Twilight mentioned it. One of the Dark Thirteen.”

Even though Sunburst was not a crystal pony, he winced at the name of their order. “But you don’t know what that means. Not to the crystal ponies. You weren’t there.”

“Neither were you.”

“No, but I’ve heard the stories. So many times. They were evil.”

“There’s a lot of evil things in Equestria,” said Rainbow Dash. Then, with a little more pride, “I’ve helped defeat more than a few of them.”

Sunburst still maintained a stony expression. “Sombra was himself a powerful mage. Maybe one of the most powerful ever, short of an alicorn. And in a fair fight?” He shook his head. “I don’t think any one alicorn could have stood against him. Not alone.”

“And part of that power came from the Dark Thirteen?”

Sunburst shook his head. “Sombra chose carefully. He didn’t take anypony who would ever be more powerful than himself. Those, he…well…” Sunburst shook his head. “But,” he continued, “he also chose ponies like himself. Cruel. Sadistic. Evil, really. That’s what the Dark Thirteen were. The worst of the worst.”

“So he assembled a team of mages. Any particular reason?”

“To find him spells. Artifacts. Power. I’ve done a lot of research. I tend to think that he was too ambitious. He couldn’t leave the Crystal Empire, not without risking an uprising.”

“So he had his servants bring magic to him.”

Sunburst nodded. “Whatever he could use to spread fear and increase his own power. And the Dark Thirteen certainly did a good job at it.”

“And Gxurab Al’Hrabnaz? How evil was he?”

Sunburst stopped walking and paused. “We don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” Daring Do pointed toward the door. “You have an entire nation of eye-witnesses.”

“Regardless. Not much is known about him. Most ponies never saw him in person. Those that did said he spoke little and was covered in strange armor. I mean, Scarlet Mist? Buttonhooks the Mad? Ponies knew about them. And what they did. But Al’Hrabnaz mostly stayed here, in the Citadel.”

“Reverse engineering Exmoori artifacts, no doubt.”

Sunburst frowned. “No,” he said. “That’s just speculation. In truth, there are no Exmoori artifacts. No record that Al’Hrabnaz ever found anything, despite taking interest in it.”

“But you said he had texts.”

“Mostly on architecture. It was apparently something of a hobby of his. And a few manuscripts on the language, and the culture. But not much else.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning we are very lucky that none of his spells or research texts survived.” Sunburst shivered. “And it’s better that way. For all of us.”

Daring Do nodded. She could not help but agree with him. Too many times in her life had she been forced to thwart some young, misinformed wizard bent on gaining undue power from strange texts, or from certain individuals attempting to sell such texts without considering the destruction they could cause in the wrong hooves.

Sunburst seemed to understand. “I think what we do have will help, though. For what you’re trying to do at least.”

“I agree,” said Daring Do. “I’m not in the mood for messing with trapped or cursed grimoires.”

Sunburst nodded and stopped a heavy door consisting of a crystal grate. Affixed to it was a lock into which he inserted his horn. The lock was quite clearly meant for somepony with a much longer cranial organ, and Daring Do held her breath. Horn locks looked innocuous enough, but Daring Do knew that they were nasty machines. They were almost invariably designed to ununicorn unauthorized individuals by severing their horns. Doing so would render the unicorn powerless, at least for a time, although the psychological trauma from the removal would last much longer.

Fortunately, Sunburst was apparently an authorized user of this lock. It clicked in response to his horn, allowing him to open the door. He then gestured for Daring Do and Rainbow Dash to enter.

“Why is this section sealed?”

“Because this is where we tried to put all of our most dangerous books. Please don’t tell Twilight I said that, but it’s true. These are restricted texts. I wouldn’t even have considered letting ANYPONY in here if Twilight hadn’t said it was absolutely necessary.”

“It is,” said Rainbow Dash, even though she had no idea what was going on. Daring Do was just glad that she had decided to contact Twilight. This might prove to be an advantage. The Royal Archeological Society had no access to these texts, and neither would Caballeron.

To be perfectly honest, Rainbow Dash had always expected that a Daring Do adventure would be more interesting. Things flowed differently in the books. Much more time was spent on action and far less on rising action that involved sitting in dusty libraries reading books. Sure, there was information about it, but it barely took a few paragraphs- -or, at most, just one chapter.

Rainbow Dash was, of course, glad to be with her favorite author/book character. That was something she could not deny; however, as Daring Do and Sunburst sat pouring over moldering books that were filled with strange text, Rainbow Dash found herself getting bored.

“Is this going to take much longer?”

“It might,” said Sunburst.

“No, it will,” sighed Daring Do. “These books aren’t catalogued. They don’t have titles and half of them are encoded somehow.”

“Although, granted, the writing is surprisingly neat,” added Sunburst.

“It will probably take the rest of the day. Maybe even tomorrow.”

“I can probably get you guest accommodations. For as long as you need.” Sunburst set down a pile of books he had been levitating. “I’ll just have to speak with the Princess.”

“You have access to the Princess? Whenever you want?”

Sunburst blushed. “Well…um…in a sense? I mean, I’m the court wizard, so…um…I’ll just go ask her now.”

He departed awkwardly. Daring Do did not look up from the black book she was reading. “Wow,” she said. “He should really start up a correspondence with Twilight. They would have the most awkward children in history.”

“Nah,” said Rainbow Dash, her forehead now against the crystal table on which the books were piled. “Everypony ships him with Starlight.”

“The creepy teleporting girl?”

“They grew up together or something. Like me and Fluttershy I guess, but nobody ships us.”

“Less blabbing more researching. Unless you’d rather have Caballeron get the artifact before we do.”

Rainbow Dash lifted her head and sighed. She reached for one of the black-bound books. Some but not all of the Al’Hrabnaz books were black, and although they had no titles they marked with a symbol on the spine. It consisted of a yellow circle containing radial images that varied with each book, as well as a pair of wings and a horn which remained constant on every text. Rainbow Dash was not sure what that meant, unless Al’Hrabnaz had somehow been an alicorn and nobody had told her. And she somehow found that unlikely.

The boredom, however, had reached such a critical level that Rainbow Dash actually turned the book around and opened it. What she found was exceedingly unpleasant. The entire inside was filled with dense, perfect cursive. As Rainbow Dash looked closer, though, she saw that she could not recognize any of the letters.

“Um, Daring Do? I can’t read this.”

Daring Do looked up. “Oh,” she said. “It’s in ancient Crystallic. Which I guess is the same as modern Crystallic.”

“I don’t read Crystallic! I barely read regular Equestrian unless you’re the one who wrote it!”

“I’m flattered.” Daring Do went back to turning through the texts, cross-referencing them to her rubbings. “But you’re not missing much.” She slammed the volume closed and held it up. “This whole thing is about façade construction. Literally, it’s the only thing he discussed. How Exmoori built façades. That’s it. I don’t think this guy was evil. I think he was just really, really boring.” Despite that, Daring Do picked up another book. “‘On Linguistics: a Comparison of Twelve Languages Used to Render the Arcane, and their Diverse Effectiveness for Polydimensional Differential Equations’.” Daring Do raised an eyebrow. “Actually, that one sounds pretty good.” She leaned into the book. “I wonder if Twilight’s read this one…”

If there was one thing in Equestria that Rainbow Dash hated more than anything, it was math. And whatever Daring Do had just said had sounded like math. The pull of being near her hero was no longer great enough to stop Rainbow Dash from at least attempting to escape.

“I’m going to stretch my wings,” she said.

“Don’t stretch them too far,” muttered Daring Do, absentmindedly. “They’ll dislocate. And then you’ll get arthritis.”

“I’ll…keep that in mind?”

Rainbow Dash flapped her feathery organs and took to the air. Within seconds she had disappeared into the high stacks of the restricted section, and after a minute or two she felt that she was out of range of any possible math.

Strangely, the library seemed to dampen sound; in seconds, Rainbow Dash was in absolute silence. She did not like it. To be surrounded by strange, ancient books, smelling them but not able to hear anything or comprehend what terrible things they might contain. This was the sort of thing that got Twilight’s wings twitching, but Rainbow Dash had little appreciation for it.

What she did have an appreciation for was how dangerous books could be. She had once witnessed a single book turn Rarity evil, and had been trapped in a comic book at least once. There were even rumors that Fluttershy of all ponies possessed a guide to magical animals that would attempt to bite and gnaw on anypony who dared to open it. Rainbow Dash had never bothered to look; that commitment to literature was far beyond her.

Rainbow Dash had no idea what these books could actually do, but was aware that it could be absolutely horrible. Pulling one down and attempting to read it could do any number of things: it could summon Satin, for example, or perhaps an angry mass of interdimensional tentacles; or it could turn her into a stallion, or worse, a unicorn. As much as Rainbow Dash would not mind potentially having a horn or punching Satin in the face, she did not want to embarrass herself in front of Daring Do. So she left the restricted section immediately.

The main section of the library was empty, leaving Rainbow Dash to wonder if Sunburst had cleared the hole place just for them- -or if Crystal ponies were just so afraid of what this place had once contained that they did not dare approach it.

Absentmindedly- -not a common state for Rainbow Dash- -she soared up to the top shelves of the third mezzanine level, a distance much higher than most ponies would be able to reach. She then moved through the stacks before stopping at one top shelf and randomly picking off a book. The title read “A Guide to Scootland”. Rainbow Dash opened it up to find pastoral pictures of green fields dotted hordes of small, orange Pegasi with tiny, useless wings.

It was boring, So Rainbow Dash tried to put it back, only to find that the space it had come from had somehow seemed to have shrunk. Rainbow Dash rolled her eyes, knowing what this meant. It had happened more than once at the Golden Oak Library; it occurred when Twilight had too many books and tried to shove all of them on one shelf.

In an attempt to fix it, Rainbow Dash removed several exceedingly dull texts: “Horsetails of the Gelding Grotto”, “Blinders of the Pre-Celestial Age”, “Wooing Pegasi: Their Wings are Fluffy”, and a tome describing pore-sizes of sponges. All of it was admittedly safe- -save for perhaps the Pegasi book, which Rainbow Dash found contained suggestions more likely to earn one a beating than a date- -but they were all weird and boring. And every time Rainbow Dash removed one, the entire shelf seemed to expand and close ranks.

When at last she finally produced a hole, she attempted to put the books in- -only for them to slip out of her hooves and fall to the floor.

“Well, that’s just great,” she muttered. “You know, Twilight probably felt that. I don’t know how, but she did. And now she’s going to yell at me.” She sighed, and only then realized part of the reason why she was having a problem. The shelf was surprisingly deep, and a book was lying behind the others on its side. Rainbow Dash reached in and attempted to grab it. Despite being dusty and clearly long-forgotten, its cover was strangely slippery.

Upon removing it, Rainbow Dash found that it was small and black. She blew away the dust- -sneezing cutely in the process- -and found that it contained no title. As she turned it, though, she suddenly felt cold. The spine was decorated with a golden circle, a pair of wings, and a horn. It was a Gxurab Al’Hrabnaz book.

“Horsefeathers,” she swore, slowly descending to the floor. “How did this get here?” She stared up at the shelf, which was at least twenty feet tall. There did not seem to be a latter. Rainbow Dash wondered how long it had been since anypony had been up there. Based on how out of date the Pegasus-wooing book had been, Rainbow Dash supposed it was quite a long time.

Her first thought was to take the book back to Daring Do. She did not know how it had gotten into the main section of the library, but knew that Daring Do would be looking for it. After a moment, though, she reconsidered. At the moment, Sunburst of all ponies was being more helpful than her. Thoughts of how impressive it would be if she were the one to crack the code rushed through her head, and she figured that she could at least try. After all, Sunburst had said it himself: all of Gxurab Al’Hrabnaz’s magical texts were gone. Only boring stuff on architecture and math remained.

Rainbow Dash found a table and sat down. She positioned the book in front of her and started to open it. The cover felt strange, like the leather that Rarity used in some of her clothes- -but much softer and somehow almost wet. Rainbow Dash found it disgusting, but opened it anyway.

Like before, the text inside was completely unreadable. Even not being able to read it, though, Rainbow Dash was able to instantly realize that the letters in this particular book were vastly different than in the other. Whereas the first had been filled with perfect cursive, this one was instead filled with strange letters that consisted entirely of square characters with complicated geometric contents. They were tiny and exceedingly complicated, all aligned on the page with Twilight-like precision.

Rainbow Dash had no idea what language she was looking at, but it was not Crystallic or anything close to modern Equestrian. It was something else.
` She began to turn through the pages of the book and quickly found that it had pictures. This at first overjoyed her; even if she could not read the strange geometric writing, she knew she could probably understand what was present from the pictures. As she looked closer, though, her stomach began to turn and her hope fell that this was any kind of book she wanted to read.

The first pictures to catch her eye were anatomical drawings. Rainbow Dash had once picked up Twilight’s copy of Bray’s Anatomy and could recall the pictures present there, but they were almost always disembodied and clinical. Here, though, the stages of dissection were far more complete and gruesome. The artist had even gone so far as to depict the eyes of the figures filled with fear, and their faces contorted with horrible screams as if they were in agony. As Rainbow Dash grew more nauseous, she desperately hoped that it had been artistic license from a sick mind.

The context seemed to be strange. In almost every case, one of the terrified and screaming anatomical figures was represented next to something else that had been drawn with traditional criticality. What it was, though, was not clear. It was pony-like but smaller, and Rainbow Dash got the impression that some of the organs were different. On some pages concerning skeletons, bones were compared- -in addition to strange diagrams of machinery and aggressive, sickening runes.

Rainbow Dash flipped through the book more quickly. Many of the later chapters contained spells, or what Rainbow Dash took for spells, in addition to diagrams for machines that she could not understand, apart from one very peculiar depiction of what appeared to be a vast mechanical Pegasus. A small, strangely shaped pony in armor was used for size comparison; he was almost a quarter the height of the machine. Rainbow Dash shivered. From how that tiny pony was drawn, she took it to be a self-portrait.

Then, suddenly, she stopped. An image in the center of the text gave her pause, even though she did not understand what it was: it was a single depiction of something made of strange metal carved with intricate but ominous and bizarre patterns. On one end sat writhing cables, or tentacles, each of which was tipped with a deadly mouth filled with numerous teeth. On the far end stood five projections, arranged like a claw. The detail was exquisite, but more than that, something about it that drew her eyes to it- -and made the small rainbow hairs at the base of her mane stand on end.

Rainbow Dash picked up the book. As she did, a page suddenly dropped out and onto the desk.

“Princess rumps!” cried Rainbow Dash, suddenly dropping the book and panicking. “Oh no! Holy carp, I damaged a book! A really OLD book! Twilight’s going to string me up by my wings and beat me like a piñata!” She slid off her chair and looked around. “A stapler! A STAPLER! I need a stapler! Or glue! Or TAPE!”

Rainbow Dash ran quickly around the immediate area, trying to track down anything that could be used as adhesive to attempt to repair the book. All she could find was a stack of rubber bands, but she supposed it was good enough.

As she picked up the bands, though, she paused. Something felt strange. The air tasted like metal, and she heard the rush of wings.

Rainbow Dash turned around suddenly. The table she had been sitting at previously was in view, and in an instant she saw that the book that she had left lying atop it had vanished. While she stared gaping at the lack of the book, Rainbow Dash suddenly saw movement: the rear of a black pony disappearing behind one of the shelves.

“Hey! HEY YOU! STOP!”

Rainbow Dash suddenly accelerated. For her, the act was effortless, but her speed was unparalleled, as was her agility. In less than a tenth of a second, she swooped past the shelves where the black pony had just been. As she turned around the stack, though, she saw him disappear again- -down the far edge of a corridor of books nearly twenty meters away.

Gritting her teeth, Rainbow Dash accelerated again. She did not understand how he had moved so quickly without making a sound, but she did not care. If it was a race he wanted, it was a race he would get- -and no pony could win in a race against Rainbow Dash.

“Give it back!” she screamed. “Daring Do needs that book!”

She turned again and again- -but each time, she was never able to catch up with the black pony, or see who he was completely. He never seemed to move quickly or hurriedly, but was always just barely out of reach.

Rainbow Dash quickly realized that he was moving toward the exit. She decided to try to cut him off, but to no avail: she saw the flick of a long black tail as the door to the library opened, and she rushed after him.

Outside, the enormous manly crystal-mare guard was holding Flash Sentry like a baby. Both of them looked at Rainbow Dash and blushed.

“Rainbow,” said Flash, “this isn’t what it looks like!”

“I don’t care! Did you see a black pony go through here?”

The mare and Flash Sentry looked at each other. They did get a chance to answer, though, because Rainbow Dash spied him moving at the far end of the crystal hallway. He was not heading for the exit of the library- -he was trying to escape the Citadel entirely.

“NO YOU DON’T!” Rainbow Dash accelerated again, this time approaching supersonic speed. She did not know what would happen if she performed a sonic rainboom inside a building, but she did not care if she happened to find out. At this point, she was angry. She intended to catch whoever it was who was trying to make a fool out of her and slap the information on how he was moving so quickly out of him.

Once again, though, she never got the chance. She followed him to an exit: a balcony, specifically, that contained a courtyard. As Rainbow Dash burst through the door, she was sure she had cornered him. There was no way to escape. Even if he was a Pegasus, she would be able to see him flying away for miles, even if he tried to go straight down to the bottom of the Citadel. He was trapped.

Except when Rainbow Dash got there, there was no pony to be found. The courtyard was empty. Its crystal benches sat unoccupied, and a fountain dribbled quietly in one corner. The trees sat silent- -even though they were not unoccupied. Hundreds of eyes peered back from them, causing Rainbow Dash to cry out and recoil when she saw them. Each set, she realized, was connected to a black-colored bird. The trees were filled with crows.

The door behind Rainbow Dash opened suddenly, causing her to cry out in surprise. This startled the crows, and a tirade of cawing filled the air as they took to the air in a vast, plume-like swarm, spreading angrily in every direction.

“Rainbow Dash!” cried Daring Do. “What happened? I heard you yelling!”

Rainbow Dash stared at her, and at Sunburst- -who was wheezing heavily- -as he entered the balcony.

“I found a book!” cried Rainbow Dash, suddenly. “One of those black ones with the circle and the wings and horn on it! I was going to take it to you but I tried reading through it first- -and somepony took it!” She pointed at the edge of the balcony. “He came out here, but he must have got away somehow! We have to mobilize the guards before he gets away!” Daring Do turned to Sunburst, who just shrugged. Rainbow Dash frowned angrily. “Come on! We have to get him!”

“I didn’t see anypony,” said Daring Do.

“Because you weren’t there! But I saw him! A black pony! And he stole the book!”

“Stole a book?” Sunburst regained part of his composure. “Rainbow Dash, that’s not possible. I secured the library before you got here. Twilight suggested it.”

“Well no offense but you’re not exactly known for your skill at magic, are you?”

Sunburst’s expression darkened. “No, I may not be, but it’s not my magic. The Citadel has a powerful security system that draws straight from Princess Cadence. I can review the records if you want me to, but it’s absolutely impossible that a thief could get in here. Not without leaving a trace.”

“But the book!”

“What book?” asked Daring Do.

“I don’t have it, because he…” Rainbow Dash trailed off, instantly realizing how stupid she sounded. There was no evidence of the black pony, or of the book she had found. Neither of them had seen it. She was making a fool of herself.

Then a realization came to her and she jumped up. “Here!” she said, holding out the piece of paper that had fallen from the book. It was actually the first time she had looked at it, and much to her surprise it did not seem to match the rest of Al’Hrabnaz’s book. The paper was a different color, and there was no text- -only a picture of a perfectly black rectangle that filled most of the page. Rainbow Dash did not understand what it was, and for a moment started to panic, wondering if it was some pointless piece of waste that had been shoved into the infinitely more valuable text by accident.

Daring Do took the paper and stared at it. Her expression suddenly hardened and she grew pale.

“What is it?” asked Rainbow Dash.

“This is vellum,” she said, recoiling from the paper. Sunburst, on hearing that term, also became pale. His eyes bulged so much that Rainbow Dash was sure they would unseat his spectacles.

“What is vellum?” asked Rainbow Dash.

Sunburst and Daring Do looked at each other. Sunburst’s normally white blaze had taken on a greenish tint. Daring Do, though, only looked exceedingly stern. “It’s a type of paper,” she said dismissively. “And you say this was in a book?”

“Yeah. It fell out when I opened it up. Whoever that guy was got the book, but not that picture.”

Daring Do looked at the picture again. “If only I knew what it was,” she sighed, sliding it into the manila folder that contained the rubbings of the Mighty Helm mural. “But I have a gut feeling…”
 

Chapter 8: The Ancients

Rainbow Dash awoke with a groan. A second groan quickly followed when she realized that she was lying in the dark. It was still night time. She looked at a clock on the wall, its crystal hands vaguely luminescent form internal light. Although the numbers were written in Crystallic, Rainbow Dash hissed when she realized it was still one in the morning. She had only been asleep for two hours.

She rolled to her side, slowly sliding off the crystal bed. The book she had been reading while she fell asleep fell off her chest- -a now quite familiar copy of “Wooing Pegasi” by one Wing Brusher. Rainbow Dash groaned a third time, finding that her entire body was stiff and painful. It was no wonder: the bed she was lying on, though covered in soft blankets, was made of crystal, just like everything else in the Crystal Empire.

The hard bed had most likely been the cause of her early awakening, as well as the strange dreams she had been having. They had not been prophetic at all- -or at least so she hoped- -as they had actually involved an uncharacteristically sweaty Rarity in a number of characteristically Rarity poses, many involving her pressed up hard against Rainbow Dash’s powerful wings.

Rainbow Dash sat at the edge of the bed for a moment, waiting for her stiff wings to become pliable enough for her to press them back down against her back. They usually did that when she woke up, as they did for most Pegasi, but not at night. She supposed it meant that she was supposed to get up, even if only for a snack. She just hoped that the food in the Crystal Empire was not also made out of crystals as the beds and houses were.

When her wings were no longer fully erect, Rainbow Dash stood up and walked through the halls of the crystal house. It was spacious and indeed rather spectacular, if mildly Spartan. It was also quite a distance from the city proper; in fact, it was far closer to the wintry perimeter of the city than the nearest structure, which only then was an ornate gate staffed by a pair of bored-looking guards. Rainbow Dash had initially thought that this was strange- -she had rather hoped that she would be staying in the castle, even if only so that she could play with Flurry Heart- -but Daring Do had been quite pleased with a house distant from any pony habitation. She had, in fact, requested it.

The inside of the minor tower was dark, and Rainbow Dash felt herself increasingly becoming nervous as she walked through it. She could not help but see dark ponies moving in the shadows, only to disappear when she turned her eyes toward them. Whether or not Daring Do or Sunburst believed her that there had in fact been a black pony in the library was still unclear; Sunburst seemed to have dismissed it quickly, but the whole event had caused Daring Do to become increasingly quiet and increasingly willing to retire to her temporary accommodations to go over her notes in private.

In fact, as Rainbow Dash stopped before one particular door, she saw that Daring Do’s endeavor was in fact ongoing. A light was pouring from beneath the door. Rainbow Dash sighed. Despite it being one in the morning, Daring Do was still awake.

Gently, Rainbow Dash knocked on the door. There was no response, so she opened it. Inside she found Daring Do sitting at a desk that was large enough to be considered an outright table. Several crystal lamps had been set up around the room, lighting it primarily from sconces placed amongst decorative bookshelves filled with generic reference texts. The desk itself had a secondary lamp placed on it, as well as several pages of notes, a few textbooks, and Daring Do’s rubbings from her manila folder. She stood staring at them so intently she barely noticed Rainbow Dash enter, and she seemed tired and weary.

“You’re still awake,” said Rainbow Dash.

“If I have time to sleep, then I have time to work,” muttered Daring Do. She leaned back in her chair and stared at Rainbow Dash. Rainbow Dash immediately realized that she had been mistaken: although dark bags had formed under Daring Do’s eyes, her violet irises flashed with resolve. “So,” she said. “You’re awake.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not exactly used to sleeping on crystal.” Rainbow Dash rubbed the aching small of her back. “I, you know, normally sleep on clouds. Really, really soft clouds. Which isn’t to say I haven’t slept on rocks before, I mean, who hasn’t? But clouds would be SO much softer right now.” Rainbow Dash winced, realizing that she was babbling. “But you should really be sleeping.”

“I can’t. Not now.”

“Bad dreams?”

Daring Do’s eyes shot upward toward Rainbow Dash. Rainbow Dash actually took a step back, not realizing how or why she had touched a nerve.

“You could say that,” said Daring Do at last. “But more importantly, I’m finally making progress on this.”

“Really?” Rainbow Dash pulled up a stool and looked at the mess of papers on the table. She could understand absolutely none of it, but tried her best not to let Daring Do know that.

Daring Do nodded and looked down at her notes. “It’s not easy,” she admitted. “The language doesn’t really translate in a traditional sense. We don’t really have a cultural context for how it works. Add to that that this is mostly ideograms, and that looking at a rubbing of a secondary carving omits a great deal of detail…”

“It’s that hard? Even for you?”

Daring Do’s eyes flashed again. “Ancient linguistics isn’t exactly my thing. At least not in an academic sense. But I do have experience.” She pointed at a page of her open notebook. It was covered in strange hieroglyphics. “This is a language I saw in Gaskintina. While I was investigating disappearances that I later linked to an underground cult worshiping deities worshiping what they called ‘The Hum of Engines’.”

“Yeah, I know. ‘Daring Do and the Caverns of No Return’. I read it six times. Last month.”

Daring Do frowned. “Oh. Well, then, I can spare you the details. But down there in their temples, I took note of their language- -”

“- -so that you could read their prophecy and trick them into thinking you were the incarnation of She Who Rises from the Depths!” cried Rainbow Dash, excitedly.

“…well, yes. But their language has remarkable grammatical similarity to Exmoori. I don’t know why; Gaskintina is on the other side of the world from Hyperbooria. Although…” She paused. “Comparing the ideograms? I’d bed my tail that those carvings were referencing the Exmoori. I didn’t realize it at the time, but…here. Look.”

Daring Do pushed several large sheets to Rainbow Dash. She pointed at part of the rubbing, specifically at a squares spiral-like symbol surrounded by what appeared to Rainbow Dash to be a fuzzy sawblade. “Do you see these?”

“Yeah. What are they?”

“These idiograms generally represent the Exmoori.” She flipped over her notes from taken Al’Hrabnaz’s writings. “The older carvings by the Depth Cult had the same images, although without the halo partition that Al’Hrabnaz suggests is a naming cartouche.”

“I know exactly what you are talking about.”

Daring Do did not seem to believe Rainbow Dash, but continued anyway. “See, if those are Exmoori, then this is a kind of…I don’t know what the word for it would be. Description of race.”

Daring do pointed at one particular segment of the rubbing that showed a highly ornate Exmoori symbol surrounded by four others, one of which had a line rising from it and crossing to another sheet. The line linked two similar shapes, both of which resembled a shield of symmetrical spirals constructed from swooping curves. The second one, however, was larger and incorporated an alchemical symbol; it was also surrounded by text and covered in slight modifications.

“What is all this?”

“I think this one represents unicorns,” said Daring Do, pointing at something that resembled a tetrahedral sword. “And this one is Pegasi,” she said, pointing at the spiral-shield.

“Then what is this?” asked Rainbow Dash, gesturing toward the one at the end of the lines. “A specific pony or what?”

“I don’t know. Probably not, though. The fundamental shape is compromised, so I think it’s meant to be something different. But whatever it is, it gets mentioned repeatedly throughout the fresco. The Exmoori apparently took a great interest in it. And apparently wanted to warn ponies about it.”

“But wait…” Rainbow Dash counted again. “So, there’s only four types of pony. Pegasi, earth-ponies, unicorns and thestrals. Plus Exmoori, that makes five. But there’s six there. So…” She pointed at one. “Is that alicorns?”

“No,” said Daring Do, her voice darkening. She flipped several pages. “I think this is.”

Daring Do stared at the page, and realized that Daring Do was probably correct. The image represented was a pair: two shapes, one large and one small, consisting of complex circles bearing one swooping curved appendage and a long vicious blade. They were further decorated with harsh projections like thorns or fangs, as well as shapes that looked distinctly like semi-realistic pony skulls. What sealed it, though, was that the larger of the two was decorated with Celestia’s cutie mark, while the smaller bore Luna’s, although with an added element that Rainbow Dash thought looked like an eye with a vertical slit-pupil.

“There’s only two.”

“Cadence was born about one thousand years ago,” noted Daring Do. “And Twilight Sparkle only became an alicorn four years ago. So it’s just the main two.”

“Mane two more like it.” Rainbow Dash paused. “Wait. Cadence is a thousand years old? Does Shining Armor know?”

“Probably. Some stallions like older mares. A lot of the times it has to do with ‘mommy issues’. Believe me, I would know.”

“Why? You’re not that old.”

“I’m a lot older than I look,” sighed Daring Do, well aware of the fact that her mane was rapidly graying. She flipped through the notes again. “Moving on. The Exmoori apparently hated Celestia and Luna deeply. Which isn’t uncommon for a lot of ancient races. But in this case, they seem to mention an outright war.”

“I’ve never heard about it. But then again I didn’t exactly, you know, get past the third grade. You know how it is.”

“I know. As soon as you can get your wings over your fuzzy little head they put you in flight school and leave it at that. Then formalized military training or the factories.”

“Really? Most ponies don’t get that, I mean- -” Daring Do raised her wings. Rainbow Dash face-hoofed. “Oh. Of course. Because you’re a Pegasus too.”

“You wouldn’t have heard about this war in school anyway. It’s too far in the past. Ponies have forgotten it…or forced it to be forgotten. From what’s written here, that seems to have been the start of it.”

Rainbow Dash looked up. “So you can read this?”

“A little bit. I’m relying on Al’Hrabnaz here.” She flipped through her notes. “From what I gather, there was a war. Probably; the word doesn’t translate literally. Some kind of cataclysm. And the Exmoori were losing. So they built something that they thought would turn the tides.”

“That thing?” asked Rainbow Dash, pointing to the thing linked to the Pegasi.

“No. That’s part of the system but I don’t know what ninety percent of this is. Only that it was called the Solum Finis. It’s a piece of a much larger system.”

“And that’s the artifact we’re looking for.”

“No. I don’t think it’s an artifact so much as an alchemical process. What we’re looking for is this.”

Daring Do moved several pages away and assembled a few more into a single image. Individually, they appeared not to contain anything but strange lines- -but together, they formed a shape. When Rainbow Dash saw it, she shuddered. Even rendered in the Exmoori’s characteristic stylized form, Rainbow Dash was clearly to see just how closely it resembled the diagram that she- -and only she- -had seen in the missing Al’Hrabnaz book.

“The Hand of Doom,” read Daring Do. “That’s the artifact. What Dulcimer wanted us to find.”

Rainbow Dash shivered. “What the heck is a hand?” she asked, turning away from the image.

“It’s like a claw, a grasping appendage. Like what your friend Spike has. Although with an additional finger.” She pointed at the end of the Hand. “It’s not an organ ponies usually have.”

“But what is it?”

“I don’t know. Like I said, I can’t translate most of this. Both because it’s in Exmoori and because it’s exceedingly complicated. Again, I have no context here and know knowlage of what culture I’m supposed to be looking at. I don’t even know if this is a complicated warning or an instruction manual…or something else.”

“So we’re looking for…a hand?”

“I don’t know. Exmoori tends to be weirdly symbolic. It could be a metaphor.”

“But you don’t think it is.”

Daring Do paused. “No. I have a gut feeling. A gut feeling I don’t like.”

Chapter 9: An Unexpected Letter

Daring Do sighed. Rainbow Dash had, eventually, gone back to bed, as Daring Do had just confirmed, mainly by the positively thunderous snoring coming from the upper floors with such strength that Daring Do was sure the crystal walls were flexing. Aside from the bellowing snores, though, Rainbow Dash did actually look highly adorable while sleeping. Daring Do was not able to look at her without a pang of jealousy, knowing that she was not nearly as adorable, nor had she been for many years.

Her only consultation seemed to be that she had been able to convince Rainbow Dash that she actually knew what she was doing. Of course, nothing that she had said was a lie; in fact, the only lie was that she actually understood the majority of the text she had been given. Al’Hrabnaz’s books were not nearly as helpful as they had initially seemed; they were strange and unapproachable, often conflating language and mathematics in a way that was maddeningly unicorn. Daring Do had translated enough to understand that her goal was, in fact, the Hand of Doom, but her confidence in the rest had been something of an act. Most of the information still eluded her, even after a day of searching.

Making matters worse was the fact that she could not sleep. Her mind was racing, both from the translation and with the newfound knowledge that Caballeron was probably looking for the same artifact. Caballeron actually had a degree in advanced ancient linguistics; he would not need to waste time with dense and moldering tomes written by dark wizards.

Still, Rainbow Dash had been unusually perceptive, as she often seemed to be. Daring Do was loathe to admit it, but she also feared what dreams she might have. Dreams were rarely prophetic in general, and those that were had for the past seven years contained Princess Luna to give various types of advice. Still, Daring Do knew that some dreams could carry strange things. It was not unusual to have them in response to proximity to strange artifacts, especially powerful ones. The fact that she had already started having them when she was nowhere near the artifact in question was not a good sign.

The lights had dimmed when she returned to her makeshift office, and the room was flooded with pale blue light. It was as though the crystal sconces were trying to force her to rest. Despite their efforts, Daring Do had spent many a night reviewing similar texts by candlelight, the glow of fireflies, or in some cases the light of a waning gibbous moon as various unpleasant things stalked her through the brush.

As she moved to sit down in her chair, though, a sudden tapping caused her to jump with a start. She whirled around toward the window of the study, and to her horror saw a pair of yellow eyes staring from the darkness outside. She nearly screamed before she realized that they were attached to a dun mare who was hanging from the upper exterior sill.

Daring Do opened the window. The thestral smiled, and her fluffy ear twitched. Even in the dull glow of the crystal lanterns, her pupils had started to narrow into slits. This might have seemed threatening if her eyes were not otherwise facing two different directions.

“Night mail!” she said, gesturing toward a male sack. She reached in and produced a letter. Hesitantly, Daring Do took it. The thestral remained.

“Um…do I have to pay you?”

“No. Mail is a free service. But I take scones as tips. Do you have scones?”

“Um…no?”

The thestral’s expression fell. “Oh,” she said. “Never mind.”

She dropped away and vanished into the night, leaving Daring Do quite confused. In response, she closed the window and sealed both of its locks.

Only then was she able to turn her attention to the letter. It was quite ordinary in appearance. Too ordinary, in fact: the stamp it used was completely generic, and the address was simply stated as “Mrs. Daring Do”, scrawled in perfect block-printed capitals.

“It’s ‘Ms.’,” growled Daring Do as she pulled open the envelope. Inside was a single white page with no letterhead. It was blank, save for a single sentence written out in the same squareish, perfect block printing that the front text was written in. Daring Do read it and realized that she would be getting no sleep at all for some time. There had been a development in the situation.

It read simply: “Caballeron is currently in Singapone”.
 

Chapter 10: Singapone

There was a rumble of severe turbulence as Rainbow Dash exited the Jetstream. Her wings shook and twisted dangerously as she suddenly went from a comfortable pace in the cool, fast-moving high atmospheric air to the still air just outside it where she immediately found herself moving at incredible speeds. It was a rough transition, but her wings did not buckle. She would not allow them to- -especially not in the presence of Daring Do.

Daring Do had braced her wings close to her body to exit, which caused her to lose altitude quickly. Rainbow Dash had to compensate to follow her, simultaneously noting the genius of the maneuver; with closed wings, it was only a matter of keeping oneself level though the exit arc.

“Oh wow!” she cried, catching up to Daring Do as the pair of them- -along with a large number of other Pegasi, all moving in orderly flight patterns- -descended from the Jetstream over a large city below. “That was a rush! I’ve never used the Jetstream before! I mean, the Wonderbolts covered the theory in drills, but I never had a chance to actually use it! I’m the only one of my friends with wings…well, except for Twilight, but she just teleports, and Fluttershy…but she doesn’t count.”

“Well,” said Daring Do. “How do you think I get around for globe-spanning adventures? It would take me weeks on a ship or in a zeppelin. My whole career is based on being able to get places before other ponies do.” And, she thought to herself as her arthritic wings burned from the exertion of almost eight hours of flying, her entire career predicated on her ability to fly. She gritted her teeth, though, and hid the pain, hoping that she would at least be able to make a landing. Daring Do refused to allow herself to show weakness in front of Rainbow Dash.

Rainbow Dash hardly noticed. Instead, she was looking upward at the trail of Pegasi moving through the Jetstream. All of them seemed to be flying at a relatively leisurely pace- -and yet they were moving at speeds that even Rainbow Dash would have trouble sustaining for long, thanks to the rapid motion of the air surrounding them. More Pegasi from below were joining them, and those already inside had started to put out their guiding lanterns as Celestia’s sun arose from the east.

“So,” said Rainbow Dash, resuming her normal flight path and falling into wing-position beside Daring Do. “Where are we?”

“Singapone.”

The answer was simple because there was no better way to describe it and not be redundant. After all, Rainbow Dash would know soon enough. The city stretched out below both of them: a massive, convoluted city state stretching outward in every direction. The rising sun, however, betrayed the fact that the city was not built by clearing forests or carving into rocks: rather, it had been constructed on a series of small islands that had long-since been linked by bridges and walkways.

Rainbow Dash stared at it in awe, and Daring Do smiled slightly. The expression on Rainbow Dash’s face was the same one that had been on her face when she had first seen the city, and really the same one that came to her whenever she found herself in a new land- -something that had as of recently become a very, very rare occurrence for her.

The city was, in many respects, spectacular. Archeological evidence- -the boring sort, of course, that Daring Do generally left to the Institute- -suggested that it had first been constructed by Pegasi explorers who had arrived by the Jetstream. It had further been developed by unicorns arriving from the north, who used it as a waystation and trading post, taking advantage of the rapid Pegasus-based commerce. The mercantile infrastructure expanded exponentially later when earth-pony sailors first arrived, finding the port location a perfect location to center many of their Eastern trade empires.

The city was still one of the most vibrant in Equestria. It was not considered as modern as a place like Manehattan, or as sacred as the temple-city of Canterlot. What it did have, though, was wealth. It always had, and likely always would. This manifested as a number of vast buildings and swelling ports, as well as a government that functioned almost more like a vassal state than a small element of Celestia and Luna’s alicorn dominion. Money seemed, to Daring Do, to be the logical stepping stone to power- -and vice versa.

Which was not to say that the city was perfect. As Rainbow Dash would soon find out. The pair of them were not headed toward the advanced towers or beautiful gardens, or to the elaborate manors of trade barons and money so old it could be considered ancient. They were instead headed toward the outer islands of the archipelago, the ones closer to where the city began to merge into the vast and empty swamps beyond. Those where wealth still flowed, but in stranger- -and much less legal- -directions.

“Wait,” said Rainbow Dash. “I think we’re going the wrong way.”

“No. This is the right way to go. We’re going to meet a…friend of mine.”

Rainbow Dash sighed audibly- -but it was not a sigh of disappointment, much to Daring Do’s surprise. Rainbow Dash laughed loudly. “Finally!”

“What?” Daring Do blinked, confused.

“Every time I have to go to these stupid cities, I always have to ‘be civilized, Rainbow Dash’, or ‘stop being so uncouth, Rainbow Dash’, or ‘oh heavens, Rainbow Dash, you can’t do that right out in the STREET!’. Now I finally get to go somewhere FUN!”

“Fun but dangerous- -”

“EXACTLY! Like in ‘Daring Do and the Darkteak Fog.”

“Oh,” winced Daring Do. “That wasn’t my best.”

“Are you kidding me?! You infiltrated a gang of teak poachers to uncover the Ressurection Stone of Arligoth in the Forest of Mirk! And you started right HERE, in the dirty, bizzare streets of Singapone!”

“But that was a long time ago. Things aren’t like that anymore.”

“So…I’m not going to be able to punch a pony in the face?”

“Why would you want to do that?”

“Well…”

“And I didn’t say that! In fact, it’s probably better that you’re ready.” Rainbow Dash’s eyes lit up. Daring Do chuckled. “When I first came here, I was fourteen. I got punched in the face at least twice a day just walking down the street. And do you know what you do when you get punched in the face?”

“What?”

“You punch right back!”

Rainbow Dash squealed with joy. Daring Do was not sure if she should be concerned or proud.

When they landed, the sun was still not over the horizon. Had they not just been flying, though, they would not have known. The streets were exceedingly narrow and the buildings high, meaning that although the smoky sky overhead was growing brighter, little light actually made it to the bottom.

The majority of the city seemed to be asleep. The shop keepers had not even started to put their wears out; they knew that there was no point in doing it this early. After all, most of their best sales were at night, when ponies bought expensive things that they did not want others to see.

The only ponies on the street were those that had started there the night before. A few stallions and mares sat in veritable pools of salt, having sweated it out from the nights before. Some of them were still asleep, and others were wandering around in a stupor trying to find water. An especially well-salted kiso girl walked by, her mascara running from a night of tears.

“Why did she have to be so mean?” she sniffled as she passed.

Rainbow Dash paused to say something, but Daring Do pushed her onward. “Come on,” she said. “It’s down here. Next block over.”

Daring Do led Rainbow Dash forward- -but suddenly stopped.

“Daring?”

The tone in Rainbow Dash’s voice was filled with sudden concern, but Daring Do did not respond. Her eyes flitted around the narrow city street, watching every angle. The air smelled strongly of ozone, and she tasted a familiar flavor of metal.

“Do you smell that?” she whispered.

“N…no?”

A shadow passed overhead. Daring Do turned her face up, barely catching a small flock pass over the narrow opening to the dull brown sky overhead. She had seen feathers- -it was either a flock of dark birds, or a black griffon or Pegasus.

“We just tripped a spell,” she said. She looked down at the ground, trying to see if there was some aspect of a rune: paint, or thin wire, or perhaps a line of sight between two artifacts. She saw none of those things, but knew that the spell could be accomplished anyway. Especially if the components were buried underground.

“I don’t feel anything.” Rainbow Dash was starting to sound panicked. She started looking around. “I don’t see any unicorns!”

“Of course not,” said Daring Do, carefully taking account of her surroundings. She could have sworn she saw a pony move on the top of one of the buildings, but she did not dare chase after him or her. Doing so would probably be impossible; the prolonged flight had left her wings tight and frozen. “It’s not that kind of spell. It’s a perimeter charm. A really powerful one. The kind of magic that takes a long time to set up.”

“You mean a trap?”

“I don’t think so. If it was, we’d have seen something by now. I think it was a sensor. Somepony was waiting for us. And now they know we’re here.”

“But who would do that?”

“I have an idea,” muttered Daring Do. Except that the idea she had made little sense. Caballeron, though versed in the arcane in at least an academic sense, was still an earth-pony. He had about as much chance of performing magic as Daring Do did, and a spell like this would have been well beyond even relatively adept unicorns. It was too specific, tuned specifically to Daring Do’s trace magical signature. She supposed Caballeron could have paid somepony to make it, but Daring Do knew the stallion, perhaps better than anypony else in all of Equestria. Paying for pointlessly complex spells without the immediate payoff of a rapid, showy trap was not like him at all.

“We need to hurry,” she said. “I don’t know how much time we have.”

The curio shop was dark and dusty. Rainbow Dash blinked, finding it intolerably dark. The windows were small and dirty, and what little illumination there was came from dripping candles spread throughout the shop in holders or in a badly tarnished brass chandelier.

“Is this place even open?”

“It’s always open,” grumbled Daring Do, pushing past Rainbow Dash. “Just don’t touch anything.”

Rainbow Dash nodded, and then proceeded to look around. As ominous as the shop was, it seemed to Rainbow Dash a lot like any antique shop. It had the same smell: dust, old books, and older wood- -and something else that Rainbow Dash could not recognize that was specific just to this shop. Most of the items appeared to Rainbow Dash as, essentially, junk; she began to feel sleepy, just as she did when Twilight forced her to go antiquing whenever the need struck her and Sunburst was not around.

The wooden floor creaked as Rainbow Dash walked along it, and the ominousness of the room seemed to increase. The walls almost seemed closer, and the objects present took on a strange, sinister menace. What Rainbow Dash had initially dismissed as boring used books were suddenly found to be thick, magical tomes with strange writing on their covers; the various odds and ends that she at first saw as painless flotsam suddenly seemed to range from downright grim to positively morbid. A strange fear began to tingle through Rainbow Dash’s neck and wings- -and she loved every second of it.

She stopped in front of a strange bell-jar placed on an antique wooden stand. Looking closely, Rainbow Dash saw that the jar contained a furry red object about the size of a softball. It stood on four legs in the exact center of the jar and was facing away- -until it slowly turned toward Rainbow Dash. The sensation of watching it was odd and somewhat nauseating, as although it had turned- -Rainbow Dash was absolutely sure it had- -she was equally sure that it had not moved in the slightest.

The red object stared at Rainbow Dash with a pair of large, glossy black eyes. Then a wide smile began to cross its otherwise featureless face.

A hoof suddenly shook Rainbow Dash’s shoulder violently. Rainbow Dash blinked and turned her head to realize that Daring Do was shaking her. The older pony had a deathly serious look on her face, and only then did Rainbow Dash realize that her own hooves were on the sides of the bell-jar, preparing to lift the glass away from the hideously grinning creature beneath.

“It’s not a good idea to stare at that,” warned Daring Do, sternly. “I already told you not to touch anything. Don’t make me repeat it again.”

“S- -sorry,” stammered Rainbow Dash, feeling herself blush. She turned herself away from the strange creature- -with odd difficulty- -and followed Daring Do through the paths that led to the rear of the shop.

Then, in an instant, a pony appeared, looming over one of the long dark-oak counters covered in strange candles and statues. Rainbow Dash gasped and nearly jumped, but Daring Do remained unsurprised.

“Welcome,” said the stallion, grinning menacingly. He was an earth-stallion with a steely gray coat that was mostly covered by a brown coat and a pair of white shirtsleeves. In addition, he wore a rounded red and gold hat over his long braded main and a pair of small Pince-nez glasses on his nose. To Rainbow Dash, he looked exactly like what the proprietor of an ominous curio shop should look like.

“Well well well,” he said, adjusting his glasses as he looked at the ponies before him. “As I live and breathe. If it isn’t Daring Do! And company. Very pleasant company indeed…”

“Um, you know I could bop you in the nose before you could even blink, right?”

“There will be no bopping!” snapped Daring Do, causing Rainbow Dash to recoil in shame. Daring Do sighed upon seeing this, and turned back to the shopkeeper. “So. You’ve gotten a lot of inventory in, haven’t you?”

The shopkeeper scowled. “I have,” he said, slowly. “All of it simple antiques. Rare and expensive antiques indeed, but nothing looted from sacred tombs that you would be concerned about. I simply sell curios!”

“Heavily charged, magical, dangerous curios.”

The shopkeeper scowled even harder. “I cannot legally be held responsible for misuse of my wares. My clients signed a waiver!”

“I’m sure they did. But I didn’t come all the way out to Singapone to bust your flank for selling hooves of glory or barbegazi toenails.”

“Then what DID you come for?”

“For my usual.” Daring Do leaned over the counter. “For information.”

The shopkeeper’s scowl suddenly vanished and was replaced by a happy smile. He even laughed. It was a dry, hoarse sound that could only have been produced by years of breathing antique dust.

“Well, why didn’t you say so? What is it that you’d like to know, my dearest friend?”

Daring Do paused for a moment, her eyes wandering over the various curios and antiques. A few of them looked back. “I’m wondering,” she said, slowly, “just one thing. If Caballeron is in Singapone right now.”

The air was suddenly cut by a shrill cry that caused both Daring Do and the shopkeeper to jump. The sound had origionated from Rainbow Dash, who was now flapping excitedly.

“I knew it! I knew Caballeron would be the villain in this one! Oh mane this is going to be SO AWESOME!!”

“Rainbow,” snapped Daring Do.

“Oh,” said Rainbow, landing back on the ground and retreating. “Sorry. I’ll be…over here.”

Rainbow Dash departed them to go look at some of the random items through the shop, or at least to pretend to. She paid careful attention to avoid the hairy red thing in the bell-jar- -which was still staring at her- -but also to keep within hearing range of Daring Do and the shopkeeper.

“Now,” said Daring Do. “About Caballeron.”

“Hmm,” said the shopkeeper. “Well, I do know the name, of course. He is reasonably famous here. Of course I never deal with him, in person or indirectly!”

“Because what he sells is way more expensive than what your clients are willing to spend.”

“While that may be true, I prefer to think that it is because I am a fine, upstanding citizen. I don’t deal in looted artifacts!”

“At least not those looted recently.”

“I prefer to think of it as ‘appropriated’. Or ‘rescued’ if you like.” He raised an eyebrow. “Or did you actually come here to insult my business practices?”

“No. I told you what I came for.”

“Indeed you have. And…I may know something.”

“Something good?”

The shopkeeper’s dark eyes flashed. “That depends on how much you’re willing to pay.”

“Nothing. Because you’re going to give it up for free.”

The shopkeeper gasped- -or at least Rainbow Dash thought he gasped, at first. It turned out to be a long, wheezy form of laughter that made him sound as though he were actively choosing to snort antique dust rather than just breathing it. Inevitably, this wheezing laugh collapsed into outright coughing.

When the shopkeeper finally regained his composure, he chuckled in a much more orthodox manner. “Mrs. Do. I am a businesspony. Unlike you, I am not independently wealthy. I cannot afford to simply give away such a valuable commodity.”

“It’s ‘Ms.’ I was never married.”

“And yet your daughter is on the verge of disrupting some very expensive seeing crystal.”

Daring Do turned her head, glaring at Rainbow Dash. Rainbow Dash smiled awkwardly and took her hoof away from the carved objects. Daring Do then sighed and turned back to the shopkeeper. “Not my daughter. Not married. And not paying a broken bit.”

“Then I will ask you to leave.”

“And if you do, I will.” Daring Do stood up and began walking toward the door. Confused, Rainbow Dash followed her. “I don’t need the information all that bad. It’s not really anything important.”

“Daring!” hissed Rainbow Dash.

“BUT,” said Daring Do, stopping by the bell-jar containing the red furry creature. It was still smiling viciously, waiting. “For the sake of safety…I’ll probably have to report this to CRUT.”

The shopkeeper suddenly became pale. “You will NOT! That jellenheimer is completely registered! Entirely legal!”

“CRUT hasn’t registered class J monsters since the bugbear incident. And a jellenheimer is a sub-seven J. It shouldn’t be within a hundred miles of a populated area. And it definitely shouldn’t be under a bell jar.”

“If I keep it in the lead pig like they want then the customers can’t see it!”

“So you admitted to me, in front of a witness,” Daring Do pointed at Rainbow Dash. “That you are SELLING a class J monster?”

“No- -I- -you can’t- -you can’t prove anything! That’s- -that’s not even a real jellenheimer! It’s a replica!”

Daring Do smiled mischievously. “So you wouldn’t mind, then,” she said, placing her hoof on the bell-jar. “If I were to give this a little, tinnnny tip…”

The stallion moved with such speed that he surprised even Rainbow Dash. In a flash, he was standing on top of the bell-jar, pressing it down with all his strength. The jelleneimer continued to stare. That seemed like almost all it was capable of doing.

“NO!” he cried. “Alright! ALRIGHT! By Celestia’s soft and warm flank! You have no sense of the art of negotiation!”

“Says the stallion who just waived my information fee.”

The stallion blushed, but seemed otherwise to take it well. He climbed off the bell-jar and straightened his long brown jacket and rounded hat. “Fine, then,” he said. “A deal is a deal.” He returned to his counter where he seemed more mysterious. He leaned forward and pressed his hooves together. “Yes. Caballeron is in Singapone. Which is in itself very peculiar.”

“Hardly. There’s a lot of wealthy buyers here willing to spend their weight in bits for whatever he’s selling.”

“Which is why his presence is so curious. Because as far as I am aware- -and you know that I am, in fact, quite aware- -he has not set up a meeting with any potential buyers or auction houses. Why, the- -ahem- -‘high quality’ antique market is always abuzz when he brings something.”

“You mean gossip.”

“I mean very informative gossip. But right now? None. He isn’t selling. And he is certainly not here to buy.”

“That doesn’t make any sense. There’s no reason for him to be here.”

“Unless the Hand is here,” chimed in Rainbow Dash.

“A hand?” said the shopkeeper, suddenly seeming interested. “And what hand would that be? Oh, never mind. Such a sour expression, Daring.”

“If you want information, then you have to pay.”

“That’s not how it works. But regardless, I know what I need to know. You’re on a case, aren’t you? Are you looking for anything in particular?”

Rainbow Dash stepped forward. “Have you ever heard the word ‘Exmoori’?”

“Rainbow Dash!” hissed Daring Do.

The shopkeep smiled. “Why yes, yes I have,” he said. “And, in fact, there is an artifact in the city. At this very moment.”

Daring Do’s eyes lit up. “And do you know where I might find it?”

“I do. And you need to look no further. Because- -through no small effort and no spared cost- -I just so happen to have acquired it. For resale, of course…with a goodly profit.”

Daring Do stepped forward as the shopkeeper reached under his counter. Then, in an instant, he produced a large, dark-colored vase. The sides were covered in detailed painted images of various cavorting ponies. Rainbow Dash gasped, unable to believe their luck- -but she also noticed Daring Do’s expression harden.

“As you can see,” said the shopkeeper, “genuine Exmoori pottery. And it can be yours for just one hundred- -I a thousand- -”

“That isn’t Exmoori”

“I beg your pardon! I have had this authenticated! I have the certificates- -”

“Yeah. And I’d bet my favorite hat they’re from the same guy who you had forge your jellenheimer registration.” Daring do pointed at the vase. “This is a late-Classical Assyrian amphora. Probably used to ship perfume. They were coded by color.”

Rainbow Dash stood agape. “How did you know?”

“Because if you look, all the figures on the sides are donkeys, not ponies.”

“Well, I never! I assure you, I would never stoop to dishonesty of that magnitude- -”

“Of course, this IS genuine Assyrian,” said Daring Do. “Based on the patina and distinctive color.” She leaned over and looked inside. “And the myrrh resins left on the inside. This should be in a museum.” Her eyes met the shopkeeper’s before he could interrupt. “But these are common enough that I wouldn’t stop a private sale. A sale for, my guess? No less than forty thousand bits.”

The shopkeeper’s eyes goggled, and he grasped the vase. He then slid it under the counter with gingerness that Rainbow Dash had only seen in cases where especially talented stallion were holding their beloved marefriends.

“I will…ahem…take a note of that.”

“And for future reference? Don’t try to lie to me. Especially about archeology.”

“Duly- -duly noted.”

“Now. As for Caballeron?”

The shopkeeper shook his head. “I don’t know anything else. Apart from the fact that a dear…um…friend of mine saw him recently in the local salt bar.”

“Caballeron never goes for salt. He’s too cultured for it.”

“No one is too cultured for a few licks. But nevertheless: my friend saw him in contact with a rather unsavory character by the name of Zel.”

“Zel? That’s a zebra name. But I don’t recognize it.”

“You wouldn’t. He’s a relatively recent immigrant. And in that short time he has produced a rather successful mercenary band.”

Daring Do frowned. “Caballeron was hiring mercenaries?”

“So it seems. Or perhaps he had other dealings with Zel. Many zebras choose finance their flights with very precious masks.” He pointed behind him, gesturing toward several zebra masks that were hiding behind him.

“Again. Caballeron doesn’t buy.”

“Precisely the conundrum, isn’t it?”

Daring Do paused for a long moment, staring at the shopkeeper. Then she sighed, and the shopkeeper smiled. He had given her everything he could, and seemed to take pleasure in the fact that it had not been much.

“Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“Yes.” Daring Do stepped up to the counter and pointed at a display case behind it. “That amulet. The silver one.”

The shopkeeper gasped. “Oh, no! I can’t do that! The amulet is FAR too dangerous! I simply can’t sell it! It cannot be allowed to fall into the wrong hooves- -”

“Do you even sell amulets that aren’t dangerous?” Daring Do removed a sack from one of her pockets and threw it on the counter. Rainbow Dash spied a bright blue sapphire tumble out of it, and the shopkeeper stared at it as though he had seen the most beautiful mare in the world. Within a fraction of a second he had snatched away the jewels.

“Would you like it giftwrapped?” he asked, smiling.

As they left the curio shop, Daring Do stopped Rainbow Dash.

“Here,” she said, giving the amulet she had just purchased to Rainbow Dash.

Rainbow Dash gasped. She was being given an expensive gift from her favorite hero in the entirety of Equestria. The honor was almost crushing- -but receiving jewelry from another mare made her feel strange. Not bad, but strange.

“Um…I don’t know how I feel about this.”

“Trust me. You need this.”

Rainbow dash looked at the amulet. It was actually quite hideous, resembling the head of a rather aggressive aardvark or armadillo, complete with its tongue sticking out. The whole of it was made of silver, although despite this the eyes seemed to glow slightly red.

“Why in the name of Luna’s tiny thighs do I need this?”

“It’s a vedmak amulet,” explained Daring Do. “You find them from time to time in shops like this. The vedmaks were monster hunters.”

“Like CRUT?”

“Vastly predating CRUT. Although I hear they have a few decrepit specimens still napping in t heir back offices. Regardless. Vedmaks used these to detect magic. Here.” Daring Do slid the thin but surprisingly heavy silver chain of the amulet over Rainbow Dash’s neck. The aardvark head sat nestled on the fluff of her chest. “There. If you have a shirt you can tuck it in.”

“But I don’t understand- -”

“If you’re around magic, the amulet vibrates. It’s a simple reaction. Trust me, you’ll know.”

“But wait, you need this more than I do!” Rainbow Dash moved to remove the amulet, but Daring Do stopped her.

“No. Because I’ve learned to sense magic on my own. But you can’t. And that’s a dangerous liability.”

“I can too sense magic!”

“Yes. With the amulet. Trust me on this.”

Rainbow Dash continued to balk. “I don’t see why I need this!”

“Really?” snapped Daring Do. “Stop and think logically for a moment. That spell we stepped in on the way in? That was a mage. A powerful one. And you claim to have seen a black pony in the crystal library.”

“I told you! I DID see a black pony! He stole that book!”

“But the guards saw no one. And neither the castle nor the city protection charms were activated. No one saw him enter or leave on a train.”

“But he was real! I promise, Daring Do, you have to believe me!”

“If I didn’t believe you, I wouldn’t have spent all those jewels on this amulet! Use your head, Dash! If there was a pony who could do all that? He had to be a mage. A wizard, even. And a pretty powerful one if those protections are as good as your handsome friend said they are.”

“Wait. Handsome?”

“For a unicorn, yes. But that’s not the point. The point is the amulet. Wear it. If the mage tries to get to you, I want you to know. And I want you to fly. As fast as you can, away.”

“But- -”

“No buts! The only reason I’m letting you tag along is because we’re just doing research right now. Nothing dangerous. Nothing serious. But if it goes south- -and trusty me, it ALWAYS goes south- -you have to stay safe.”

“Daring…”

Daring Do patted the amulet on Rainbow Dash’s chest and started walking. “Now,” she continued. “We’ve got to do some thinking. Caballeron is in Singapone. He has the other half of the fresco rubbings and he’s looking for the same Exmoori artifact as us. But why the heck is he here? What’s his plan?”

A nasal voice called out from behind them. “Ooh! I can help with that!”

Both Rainbow Dash and Daring Do turned sharply, and both were equally surprised, even though Daring Do had already recognized the voice. Running up behind them, out of breath, was a surprisingly well-built unicorn stallion in an unseasonable thick twill coat with elbow pads. A tattered overstuffed briefcase levitating in his magic was trailing papers behind him as he ran and panted.

“Dulcimer?”

Dulcimer stopped running and gasped for breath. Rainbow Dash stared at him, confused, and was about to ask how Daring Do knew him- -when suddenly the amulet around her neck began to shake violently. This was a surprise, as Rainbow Dash had subconsciously assumed that it would not do anything at all, or that the shaking would be barely perceptible. It was, however, actually quite vigorous.

Rainbow Dash jumped back slightly, and Dulcimer’s orange eyes immediately turned toward her- -and then locked on the amulet. It instantly stopped vibrating.

“That’s a strange piece of jewelry,” he said, cheerfully. Then he laughed. “Ha! But you know what they say! If you don’t come back with a souvenir, you weren’t here!” He reached into one of his pockets and produced a tiny die-cast model of a unicorn wizard, complete with a cape and hat. “See? I have got a little wizard from one of the stalls on the west side of the island. I think he kind of looks like me.”

Rainbow Dash stared at Dulcimer, and then turned to Daring Do. “Um, this guy is pretty much dude Lyra,” she said. She turned back to Dulcimer. “Like some sort of…Guyra. It’s kind of freaking me out.”

“Lyra? Dash, I have no idea who that is.”

“Neither do I,” said Dulcimer.

“Oh. Lyra Heartstrings. She lives in my town. She looks JUST like you.”

Daring Do noticed a sudden flash in Dulcimer’s eyes, one that he tried- -and largely succeeded- -to hide. Any pony beside Daring Do might not have noticed, but there had been a reaction. He had not seem to know the name ‘Lyra’, but he clearly recognized her surname.

“Dulcimer,” said Daring Do, “what are you even doing in Singapone?”

“Yeah!” said Rainbow Dash. “Did you follow us?”

“Follow you? No! NO! I could never hope to manage to track the illustrious Daring Do, especially undetected. I’m afraid our chance meeting is simply happenstance! And a fortuitous one at that!”

“Meaning?”

Dulcimer turned his head, eyeing several haggard ponies passing by with their faces obscured with cloaks. “Not here,” he said. “This is important. About the investigation. Do you know anywhere more…private?”

The atmosphere was so smoky that Rainbow Dash almost immediately choked on the thick, saccharine smell as she entered the building. Apart from having a nearly opaque atmosphere, the room was dark and the ceiling barely two feet over her head. Dulcimer, being a surprisingly tall stallion, almost had to duck.

As her eyes adjusted, though, Rainbow Dash realized that this was not really the kind of place she wanted to be. At all. The smell, she quickly realized, was the scent of caramelizing sugar. Ponies sat around the room on dirty overstuffed couches, leaning against each other silently and staring with blank, foggy eyes. On counters in front of them sat piles of sugarcubes- -and burners. Occasionally, a pony would move, as if in slow motion, dipping a hyperbolically small spoon into the browning liquid and equally slowly dragging it back to their mouth.

“I shouldn’t be here,” said Rainbow Dash, turning toward the door. “If the Wonderbolts find out I was even AROUND caramelized sugar- -”

“Relax,” said Daring Do, turning Rainbow Dash around. “Come on. We all eat sugar.”

“Yeah, but not PLAIN!” She paused. “Well, except Pinkie Pie, but that’s different. She’s not addicted, she just likes the flavor. She said so herself.”

“I don’t much like this either,” said Dulcimer. “Perhaps this is a bit too much culture for me…”

“It’s not a problem,” said Daring Do, leading both of them into the smoky room. “I know the guy who owns the place. And I know he and Caballeron are not friends. At all. And look at these guys.” She pointed at the stationary patrons, whose eyes slowly turned to her, but remained only for a second before turning back to their sugar. “Notice anything?”

“That they are slowly giving themselves diabetes, you mean?”

“No. That they’re all glazed. At this time of day, if you see one who isn’t?”

“He’s the narc!” gasped Rainbow Dash.

“Exactly. We can talk here. And trust me, no one is going to remember a thing we say.”

Daring Do sat down on an especially lavish couch in a corner where other ponies were not around. Rainbow Dash sat in a chair across from her, only to find that it nearly swallowed her whole. Dulcimer, on seeing this, elected to sit on the pitted hardwood floor instead.

“So,” said Daring Do. “The last time I saw you, you said you were going to look into Exmoori artifacts from your side.”

“I did,” said Dulcimer, excitedly. He spilled a pile of papers from his briefcase. Unlike Daring Do’s notes, they were poorly scrawled and highly disorganized. “And that’s why I’m here! Because I believe that there is, in fact, and Exmoori artifact located here in Singapone!”

Daring Do and Rainbow Dash looked at each other, and then quickly turned to Dulcimer. “There is?”

“Well, somewhat.”

“Somewhat.” Daring Do frowned. “That’s not very helpful.”

“No, no! I promise it is! Please hear me out!” He cleared his throat and actually paused to look at an index-card full of notes. “I received word from unconfirmed sources that an artifact of great significance to the Exmoori is present in this city, as part of a private collection.”

“Unconfirmed sources?” sighed Daring Do. “You mean rumors.”

“I mean very convincing rumors! As you know, I AM, in fact, an archeologist. Just as you. And my specialty is the Exmoori.”

“Wait,” said Rainbow Dash. “Let me get this straight. You’re the one who gave Daring Do the pictures…but you didn’t translate them first?”

“Well…no. It is actually completely impossible to translate Exmoori text, I assure you.”

“No it’s not!” protested Rainbow Dash. “Daring Do already did it! Well, most of it, at least!”

Dulcimer’s eyes widened and he gasped. “You did?” he said. “How? I’ve spent DECADES trying, and can barely understand the most basic ideograms!”

“Gxurab Al’Hrabnaz,” said Daring Do, as though the name alone were enough of an explanation.

Dulcimer recoiled as if she had thrown an obese slug in his direction. “Al’Hrabnaz?! You can’t be serious! If you could even manage to find one of his books- -”

“I did. And that’s not the point. I’m on a tight schedule, Dulcimer. You said there’s an artifact in the city. Where?”

“As I said. In a private collection. Belonging to a wealthy businesspony by the name of Wun Perr-Synt.”

This time, Daring Do’s eyes widened. “Wun Perr-Synt?”

“Daughter of Wun Hun Dredd Perr-Synt!” piped Rainbow Dash excitedly. Had her chair not quite possibly already begun digesting her, she would have flown into the air with delight at having recognized the name. “The ultra-super wealthy heiress to a Signaponian trade syndicate, and a notorioius collector of illegal artifacts! Like from ‘Daring Do and the Monks of the Unclimbable Mountain’ AND in ‘Daring Do and the Mirror of Years’! You foiled der dad’s plans for being immortal TWICE!”

“Clearly,” said Dulcimer, “considering it is Ms. Perr-Synt who is currently in control of the syndicate.”

“Oh,” said Rainbow Dash, her expression falling and being replaced with one of shame. “I didn’t know- -that he- -you know- -great.” She sighed. “Now I feel really bad.”

“Don’t,” said Daring Do. “Trust me. If Wun had even the slightest chance, she would have shoved the old stallion off a cliff. He’s lucky to have made it as far as he did.”

“Well, that may be,” said Dulcimer. He adjusted his glasses. “I mean, personally, I hardly pay attention to politics. Far too depressing in my opinion. But Ms. Perr-Synt supposedly possesses a key artifact.”

“Of course she does,” sighed Daring Do, leaning back on her couch. “If there’s something dangerous that should be hanging in a high-security Canterlot museum, she probably has two. I’m aware of the size of her collection…and a few of the things in it.”

“So you think she might have the Hand of Doom?” asked Rainbow Dash.

“The Hand of Doom?” said Dulcimer, looking confused.

“It’s the artifact you’re looking for,” said Daring Do. “That’s what it’s called. And no. I don’t think so.” She shook her head. “Based on the text, if she had it we would know. If only by her bragging.” She turned to Dulcimer. “So. What is it, then?”

“Well…um…I don’t actually know.”

Daring Do groaned. “Then you came out here for, what, exactly?”

Dulcimer bristled, clearly growing impatient at Daring Do’s flippant and dismissive attitude. “I don’t know what the artifact is, only that it has some relation to Exmoori history! However, I also know that Ms. Perr-Synt is currently seeking academics capable of authentication.”

“Of course. She doesn’t tolerate fakes or replicas. Only the real, priceless pieces for her personal, private gallery.” Daring Do’s eyes narrowed. “So. As an ‘expert’ in Exmoori history, you’re going to apply for the job, aren’t you?”

“There isn’t much competition,” boasted Dulcimer. “After all, I am one of the only experts.”

“…and because Wun has an understandable dislike for the Royal Archeological Society.”

“That, too.”

“It still doesn’t explain what Caballeron is doing here, though,” said Rainbow Dash.

“I think it would be clear,” said Dulcimer. “If he is indeed in possession of the other half of the rubbings and looking for the same artifact- -this ‘Hand of Doom’- -then he might very well be intending to steal the artifact in question!”

“But that doesn’t make any sense,” muttered Daring Do, pressing her hooves together and looking at neither Dulcimer nor Rainbow Dash. “Caballeron’s a lot of things, but he’s not a thief. At least not like that. He robs tombs, ruins, sacred temples…but not private collections. Especially not those belonging to one of his biggest customers.”

“But what else would he be here for?” asked Rainbow Dash. “I mean, I know that’s out of character, but if he was desperate…”

“Or if the payoff for this Hand was so big he couldn’t help himself,” suggested Daring Do. “And if he’s anywhere as far along as we are, he might be starting to get desperate…I still don’t like it, though. It isn’t like him. Something’s not right here.”

“Well,” said Rainbow Dash. “If that IS where he’s going, then…well…”

Daring Do’s eyes turned toward Rainbow Dash. “Well what?”

“Well, if we could get our hooves on that artifact- -not to steal it! Just to, you know, borrow it. Or even just look at it. In case it’s as clue.”

“My thoughts exactly,” said Dulcimer. “Which is why I applied for the position of authenticator! So that when I am accepted, I will be able to witness the artifact first-hoof!”

“And how long will that take.”

“Well…four to six months.”

“FOUR TO SIX- -!”

“Rainbow,” shushed Daring Do, pointing out that several of the other patrons of the sugar den- -even though they were nearing diabetic coma- -were turning toward her and eying her strangely. “Quiet.”

“But- -”

“There has to be a faster way in.”

“Well,” said Dulcimer. “There might be. Wun Perr-Synt has actually been preparing a rather lavish and incredibly exclusive ball as of recent. Partially to show off her newest acquisitions.”

“No way. She never does that. Ever. The things she buys are for her and her alone.”

Dulcimer shrugged. “Supposedly her behavior has grown more social since the passing of her father and her recent marriage.”

Daring Do nearly shot out of her chair. “Wait!” she cried. “Wun got MARRIED?!”

Dulcimer seemed taken aback by this outburst. “Y- -yes. It was quite substantial news several months ago. Even I heard about it! It was something of a scandal.”

“Scandal? Why?”

“Because the groom is an earth-pony. A wealthy one from an influential family, obviously, but…well…” Dulcimer looked up at his own horn. “As much as it pains me to admit, we unicorns can be…insular in our choice of mates. And she even took his name.”

“An earth-pony? Anyone I know?”

“A fellow by the name of Chunky Milk.”

“Wait,” said Rainbow Dash. “So her name is now Wun Perr-Synt Milk?”

“It seems that way,” sighed Dulcimer. “Alas, getting an invitation is virtually impossible. Even as the world’s formost expert in the culture of Exmoor, I was not invited.”

“Neither were we,” reminded Rainbow Dash.

“Not a problem,” said Daring Do. “I know what I’m doing. Trust me on this.”

She stood up and dusted herself off. “Thanks, Dulcimer,” she said. “You’ve actually been a big help. Because now I have a lead.” She helped to extricate Rainbow Dash from her chair. “Come on, Dash. We’ve got to get to the city center.”

“Why?”

“Because we need to find a dress shop.”

“Wh…why?”

“Like I said. Trust me. I know what I’m doing.”

Daring Do began to push Rainbow Dash toward the door, but suddenly felt Dulcimer’s hoof on her shoulder. He was surprisingly gentle- -and his hoof was surprisingly cold. Clammy, even. “Daring?” he said.

“Do you have something else?”

“No, no. Although I swear to you on my own horn that I will do my best to keep looking. I just wanted to…well, frankly, I wanted to thank you from. From the bottom of my heart.”

“Dulcimer…”

“Please. It is the least I can do. I realize that I am not much of an academic, and that you have done in three days more than I have accomplished in a lifetime. Really, I am in awe of you. I suppose I always have been, to some extent, but to see it first hoof…”

“It’s what I do.”

“I know. But I’m the one who asked you. And my motives aren’t entirely selfless. This Hand of Doom. I understand that in the wrong hooves it could be devastating to Equestria, whatever it is. Even without being able to read them, I could see that in the pictures in the rubbings. I understood the gravity. But…it’s my career that benefits. From your work.”

“As long as I can recover the artifact before Caballeron does and get it into a museum where it can be carefully studied, I don’t mind. It’s what I do. I guess you could call it my career.”

“Still. Thank you, Daring Do. Here.” He reached into his coat and produced the small die-cast unicorn. “I know this isn’t much, but…in all honesty, I got it for you. I can’t afford anything more. The wages of an academic, you understand.” He held it out.

Daring Do looked at it, and then smiled as she took it. It was small, but she appreciated the gesture more than the gift itself. “Thank you, Dulcimer. And don’t worry. Caballeron hasn’t beat me yet.”

Dulcimer laughed. “No he hasn’t, has he? It makes me feel so much better knowing that you’re on the case.”

“That’s what I’m here for. I’m glad to help.”

Chapter 11: Daring Do and Rainbow Dash, in Dresses

Rainbow Dash stood at the tall iron gate, and thought. Every line of reasoning lead to the same conclusion: that she was profoundly uncomfortable.

Never before had she realized just how good Rarity was at her job. Rainbow Dash had not worn many dresses in her life; the few that she owned were all gifts from Rarity. She had always assumed that Rarity essentially just very much enjoyed making dresses, in the same way many Pegasi enjoyed pulling levers in cloud factories or checking the pH of rainbows. As soon as she had donned a dress not made by Rarity, though, Rainbow Dash realized that Rarity not only enjoyed making dresses but was spectacularly talented. Dresses were to Rarity as parties were to Pinkie Pie: vastly more inconsequentially amazing than any produced by any other source. The fit was always perfect: there was no tightness and no inconsistencies in the fabric that could catch on a knee or a wing feather, and no chance of chafing. It was as if Rainbow Dash were completely, utterly nude.

The dress that she had been given, though, stood in stark contrast. It was certainly high quality, and probably expensive- -and it fit. But not well. The seams fell where they were supposed to, but were restrictive and tight, and their inner linings were scratchy and unpleasant. The dresses Rarity gave to Rainbow Dash fit so well that, if she chose to, she would be able to fly a half-marathon without breaking a sweat. This dress, though, was so restrictive that Rainbow Dash could barely walk.

Additionally- -and Rainbow Dash was loathe to admit it- -it looked downright hideous. Even though admitting that she could even tell would be horribly damaging to her reputation, Rainbow Dash still found herself muttering to herself. It was as though somepony had badly failed to make a cocktail dress but failed and ended up with something meant for an excessively severe secretary. The rear consisted of a black skirt made of thick fabric that was just short enough that moving improperly would risk forming what Rarity not-so-affectionately referred to as a “butt funnel”. Fortunately- -or unfortunately, considering the warmth and humidity- -Rainbow Dash was wearing black leggings underneath that were thick enough to be trousers in their own right. Her upper half was no better; it consisted of black jacket inlaid with complex silver patterns- -and a set of ridiculous shoulder pads- -over a sickly green blouse that was affixed with an oversized ruffled bow around Rainbow Dash’s neck.

“Gosh darn it dang stupid dress,” swore Rainbow Dash, continuing yet another quiet rant to herself as she waited, ignoring the sound of familiar wings behind her. “Stupid leggings. Stupid tiny wing holes. I’m gonna chafe!”

“Sorry,” said Daring Do, landing beside her. “It’s the best I could do on such a short time. It had to come off-the-peg. No time for proper couture.”

“Why do you even know that word?” snapped Rainbow Dash. “Mane, if Rarity saw me right now? She’d probably faint so hard we wouldn’t even be able to get her off that stupid weird-shaped couch for a week!”

“Like I said. Sorry. But the bow looks cute, though.”

Rainbow Dash turned sharply, preparing her invective; when she saw Daring Do, though, her anger caught in her throat.

The dress that Daring Do was wearing was of significantly higher quality- -but it was the sort that Rainbow Dash would never even dream of attempting to put on. It was brilliant red, made of a strange fabric that seemed to oscillate between pleasant matte and understated gloss. The train behind it was long, but had a slit in it so high that Rainbow Dash could see every cardinal direction of Daring Do’s compass cutie mark. The front portion was overlaid with symmetrical panels of gold and red fabric, almost like armor; all of it matched the complicated golden bands that held Daring Do’s long, braided mane in place.

Rainbow Dash felt her wings extend outward involuntarily, pressing uncomfortably against her frumpy jacket. She did not even care.

“You look- -you look amazing!”

“Really?” Daring Do turned to look at herself, accidentally striking a Rarity-worthy pose in the process. “Um…yeah. I guess it’s okay. Not my style at all, though. No pockets. And you have no idea how hard it was to fit a whip under this.”

Rainbow Dash blushed, not wanting to think about the mechanisms or processes that Daring Do had used to conceal the length of thick leather beneath her clothing. Instead, her brain sputtered, resulting in her blurting out a question she was not even aware that she was contemplating. “Why doesn’t mine look that good?”

“What?” Daring Do seemed somewhat hurt. “Sorry, Dash. I really am. Like I said, yours was pre-made and refitted for a Pegasus. Mine was made for me.”

“But you said there wasn’t time- -”

“Not recently. They had it in storage. Celestia’s beard, I haven’t worn this thing in ages. I swore to myself I wouldn’t.” She pulled another pose, once again completely accidentally. “Actually, I’m really surprised it still fits. I guess all this adventuring really does keep me in shape.”

Daring Do shrugged and started walking toward the gate. Before Rainbow Dash could protest or try to stop her, she reached it- -and, despite there not being any ponies near it, it slowly swung open.

“So we’re just going to walk in there?” cried Rainbow Dash as she reached Daring Do’s side.

“I don’t see why not.”

Rainbow Dash did not protest, but she did not understand how this was supposed to work either. She would have asked, but she became increasingly distracted by her surroundings. In the Daring Do novels, this particular manor had been described more than once. The descriptions present were, to Rainbow Dash’s great pleasure, largely accurate, although it was apparent that there had been some recent updates and additions to the construction.

Overall, it was a highly lavish estate, but a small one. Central Singapone was a densely populated city; even a tiny building would have been ridiculously expensive. As such, the lots were small- -although this one still represented managed to house an elaborate house almost as large as the Castle of Friendship. The lot around it, though small, was packed heavily with highly detailed ornate gardens: Rainbow Dash almost gasped a the sight of a cypress-lined koi pond, positioned just as it was described in Daring Do’s novels.

The path to the central house was not large. The path was cobblestone, leading between two rows of fruit trees that had clearly been placed in a way that was meant to make them seem almost natural. Strings of fancy lights had been strung along them to guide the way.

It took them less than a minute to reach the door, and by the time they had, Rainbow Dash was shaking. She was excited, but also afraid. She had no idea what would happen. This was only exacerbated by the realization that two ponies were waiting for them at the door. Or at least one pony and one of something else. Something far larger.

The larger being, it turned out, was a bison of all things. He- -or she; Rainbow Dash had a hard time determining the difference- -was dressed in a black suit, as was the pony beside him. The pony was a tall, thin unicorn with oddly harsh black eyes. The unicorn scrutinized both Daring Do and Rainbow Dash with a harsh, unblinking gaze while the bison seemed to notice them but only tangentially, as if he was busy contemplating something else.

Rainbow Dash faltered, but Daring Do walked straight up to the unicorn.

“Good evening, madam and mademoiselle,” he said. His voice was deep and highly measured, and spoken with a slow Singaponian drawl. “Might I be so forward as to request your names?”

Rainbow Dash began to feel herself sweating. The way this pony spoke was strange, and how he failed to blink or make even the slightest movements disturbed her. He was clearly not a butler, or a greeter of any sort. Instead, Rainbow Dash realized all-too-late that this stallion was the kind meant to handle far more violent tasks.

Daring Do did not hesitate. “Daring Do. And guest.”

The pony’s expression did not change. The bison beside him snorted.

“Of course, madam. On behalf of Lady Perr-Synt, I extend her hospitality and warm welcomes to you. Please feel free to enter, and enjoy to your heart’s content.”

He bowed deeply, and his horn flickered with a green glow that pushed the ornately carved door to the house inward. Daring Do did not return his bow, but rather simply pushed past him. Rainbow Dash did so as well, laughing awkwardly as she did so.

“Heh- -thanks?” she stuttered.

“Dash,” hissed Daring Do.

“R- -right! Sorry!”

Rainbow Dash quickly caught up to Daring Do, and the pair found themselves in a long hall with a high ceiling and large, expensive tiles for a floor. Rainbow Dash was astounded to see a number of exotic fossils imbedded in the darker of the tiles, while the remainder were an almost luminescent green.

“Oh mane,” she whispered. “I can’t believe that worked!”

“Why wouldn’t it?”

“Well, you know, because you and Wun Perr-Synt are enemies! Right?”

Daring Do sighed. “It’s not always as simple as it is with Caballeron or Ahuizotl. My relationship with Wun is…complicated.” Daring Do’s brow furrowed. “Her father was a recurring villain, sure. And she’s vicious, arrogant, conniving…but not outright evil.”

“So you…have a previous relationship with her? Like…”

Daring Do turned her head and frowned. “Like…what?”

“Like…you know…”

Pausing, Daring Do thought for a moment. “Not like that,” she said, slowly.

“Oh. Sure.” Rainbow Dash laughed awkwardly. “I knew that. Because I totally didn’t write a shipping fanfiction with you two…I mean, I’m not THAT much of an egghead!” Her face scrunched. “But…if you wanted to read something like that…”

Daring Do ignored Rainbow Dash, as she was far more focused on the situation at hoof. As collected as she was acting, she was deeply concerned. There was not actually as much of a plan as Rainbow Dash thought. Really, this was more of a fact-finding mission; there was no way to actually reach- -let alone take- -the artifact in question. Rather, Daring Do just needed to find out what it was or what it was for.

Even doing that, though, was not necessarily safe. As friendly as the pony at the door had pretended to be, this place would never be welcoming. It was always dangerous. And navigating it required the greatest care.

This was only exacerbated when they finally reached the end of the foyer, and there was no going back. Daring Do and Rainbow Dash found themselves standing in the main ballroom, one of the only rooms present in the extensive mansion that was actually meant for entertaining guests. It was grand in scale and even grander in the detail that was put on the delicate carvings of every overhead joist and ceiling fresco.
A number of guests meandered throughout the floor, moving between large and expertly lit display cases that had been set up in a grid pattern through the room. Dancing would have been impossible, but that was not the point of an event like this. Wun had created this party for one specific reason, and it was not the enjoyment of her guests: it was to show off the premier specimens of her extensive and world-renowned collection.
The guests, to their credit, did pay some attention to the artifacts- -although it was clear that few among their ranks fully comprehended exactly what they were looking at. Even without looking, Daring Do knew why- -because she knew Wun’s tastes. Her “premier” artifacts were almost certainly the least aesthetically pleasing, because Wun hardly cared about that.
So the guests took to other things that were to be expected from the parties of the exceedingly wealthy: ponies meandered about the floor, quietly enjoying fine music and finer wine, as well as occasionally glancing toward one another’s outfits. Daring Do was able to detect a slight shift in Rainbow Dash’s expression, one indicative of embarrassment- -but the young Pegasus hid it admirably.

“Wow,” said Rainbow Dash. “If Rarity could see me at a party like this? Heck, she’d give her horn just for a few minutes with these guys.”

Daring Do put her hoof on Rainbow Dash’s shoulder. “Don’t mention horn removal. Not even jokingly like that.”

“Why not?”

“Because unicorns take it VERY seriously. And I’m sure you’ve noticed the security they have tonight.”

Rainbow Dash looked around the room. If she had not noticed it before, she certainly did upon closer inspection. Hanging back from the crowd were a number of suited bison. A few of them were wearing feathers on their heads, but they all looked terribly angry.

“Oh,” she said. “Yeah, I see them.”

“Good. But this is a formal affair. So if we behave properly, we don’t have anything to worry about. But if we don’t…”

Rainbow Dash gulped. “Right. What do I need to do?”

“Stay close to me and try not to talk much. We’ll try to find Wun. Knowing her, she’ll wait until the least opportune moment to show up.”

“And what do I do if I see somepony I know?”

Daring Do blinked. “What are the chances of that?”

Rainbow Dash looked over Daring Do’s shoulder. “Pretty high, actually.”

Slowly, Daring Do turned to look behind her and, much to her dismay, she saw that Rainbow Dash appeared to be correct. Two ponies were indeed approaching them, and although she herself did not recognize either of them, it was apparent that Rainbow Dash did.

They were both earth-ponies. The stallion in the pair was a dull brown color, with a thick black mane that was slicked back with a surplus of expensive grease. He wore a blue suit jacket and an exceedingly tacky red necktie with a historical currency symbol on it. As with most stallions, his rump was exposed, showing that his cutie mark, which consisted of triplicate money-bags.

Accompanying him was a violet mare with her oddly pointy nose directed at such a high angle that she almost seemed to be staring at the ceiling- -or would have, had she not been literally staring down her nose at Rainbow Dash and Daring Do. She wore an extremely well-made dress that was lavish although more conservative than the one Daring Do was wearing; Rainbow Dash immediately recognized it as Rarity’s work.

“Ah!” said the stallion, his attention suddenly turning to a passing waiter. He removed several exceedingly tiny but no-doubt expensive appetizers. He attempted to pass them to his wife, but she waved them away in annoyance, not once taking her eyes off Daring Do. The stallion took this in stride and shrugged, deciding to eat both portions himself. “See, dear?” he said, laughing to himself. “I knew I recognized that mane! Ha! No matter where you go, Rainbow Dash, it’s impossible to mistake you for anypony else!”

“I’m more concerned with what, exactly, a pony like HER is doing here,” growled the pink mare.

“Spoiled. She’s a world-famous athlete. Of course she would be expected to attend cultured events, if she wants to.”

“Yes. But unfortunately cultured events like this are somewhat beyond the comprehension of the lower class.” She then literally scoffed. “Why they even let you in- -”

“They let her in because she is my plus-one,” said Daring Do, icily. She then gave Rainbow Dash a harsh glance just in time to force her to stifle a squeal of delight.

“And who might YOU be, then?” The pink mare squinted. “I don’t recognize you.”

“Actually,” said the stallion, rubbing his chin and squinting. “I think I might…”

Daring Do inhaled sharply. If Rainbow Dash knew these ponies, they were from the distribution range of her books. It was guaranteed that they would have read A.K. Yearling’s novels; they would know her secret identity.

The stallion’s expression suddenly lit up. “That’s it! You’re Well-To Do’s daughter!” He laughed. “I don’t suppose you remember me! Our fathers were friends. I believe I even met you once, but oh, that must have been when I was just a colt. And you were already nearly a mare.” He extended his hoof. Daring Do took it; despite his tacky appearance, he was relatively jovial. “My name is Rich,” he said. “And this is my darling wife, Spoiled.”

“Such appropriate names,” said Daring Do, glancing at Spoiled Rich with a sly smile. “My name is Daring Do. And you already know Rainbow Dash.”

“Of course! She’s the pride of Ponyville! No pony faster!” He leaned in. “Although to be truly honest- -you don’t make as much money as I have without a commitment to honesty- -in a hoof race? I’d put my money on Applejack Apple.”

“I’ll remember that,” said Daring Do, smiling and turning her eyes toward Rainbow Dash, who blushed.

“Of course you will,” sighed Spoiled. She turned her full attention toward Daring Do, ignoring Rainbow Dash. “I was not aware of your name, but I know who you are.”

“Oh really?”

“Yes.” Spoiled Rich smiled. It was not a pleasant expression. “It widely known that Well-To Do’s heir dismantled his lucrative art distribution company and spends most of her time squandering his fortune.” Her smile grew, and she tossed her hair. “But of course, I suppose that is to be expected for your kind.”

“My kind? What is that supposed to mean?”

Spoiled Rich’s eyes glittered. “Pegasi, of course. I don’t mean to be offensive, but it’s a biological fact. Your kind are poor with money. Sure, sometimes one will work hard, gain a fortune…but then his children will simply be lazy. And the betting…there is certainly a reason that you’re race built Equestria’s largest casino, isn’t there?”

“Spoiled,” said Rich, shaking his head. “Please, honey- -”

“You can’t talk to her like that!” cried Rainbow Dash, bristling. “You can’t talk about ANYPONY like that! I’m a Pegasus too, you know.”

“Oh, I know. A Pegasus who spends all of her time taking naps, drinking cider, and reading those idiotic children’s books.”

“Idiotic?” snapped Daring Do.

“WHAT?!” interrupted Rainbow Dash, her volume increasing as her normally blue color became increasingly more red. “You do realize I’m a senior member of the Ponyville weather distribution team? That I have been since I was TWELVE? AND an active member of the military in the Wonderbolts! AND a sitting member of the Royal Court of Friendship?!”

“Indeed,” sighed Spoiled. “Far too much responsibility for a member of the weakest race.”

“Weakest- -”

“Again, it’s simply a biological fact.” She laughed coldly. “But I’m glad, Rainbow Dash. I’m glad to see you’re moving to a career more suiting to one of your social status.”

Rainbow Dash appeared confused, but Rich and Daring Do instantly realized what she was saying. Rich just put his head into his hoof, and it was only because of his sake that Daring Do did not put a fist into Spoiled’s ridiculous upturned nose.

“Spoiled,” said Rich.

“Not now, Filthy! I’m putting a commoner in her place!”

“I don’t even understand what you said!” cried Rainbow Dash.

“Oh my,” said Spoiled, her tone suddenly becoming highly patronizing. “Trust me, dear, you’re not being nearly as discrete as you think you are. You appear at a party of this caliber preened and…well, somewhat fresh- -with a wealthy older mare known for wasting daddy’s money? How much is she paying you, exactly?” She laughed. “Because with you, I’m sure you don’t charge that much.”

Rainbow Dash’s face finally ceased to be blue and suddenly became deep red as she realized what Spoiled was implying.

“I’m not- - how dare you- -I’ll punch you right in your fat SNOOT!!”

“Ahem,” said a soft voice beside them.

The entire room suddenly went silent. Daring Do immediately knew why. Even after so long, she could still recognize that voice.

Rainbow Dash turned her head, clearly prepared to scream at whoever had interrupted her snoot punching. When she saw who had spoken, however, the color drained from her face.

Few unicorns could be described as “looming”. Wun Perr-Synt, however, was certainly one of that rare breed. She was tall and thin, and stood with a level authority that only a high-bred unicorn could accomplish. She towered over Rainbow Dash, and stared down at her with piercing blue eyes. Even her horn- -long, and just slightly curved, betraying her ancient heritage- -assisted in portraying her as a pony who was not to be trifled with by anyone with any sanity or intelligence.

She was not alone, however. As dominating as her presence was- -a late-middle age unicorn in a stunning silk and platinum dress and who possessed eyes that seemed to bore into a pony was not exactly a normal occurrence- -Daring Do had initially missed the stallion that stood beside her.

He was the opposite in every way. Unlike her, he was an earth-pony, and although he was tall- -though not nearly as tall as Wun- -he was oddly misshapen, giving him the appearance of having a bizarre manifestation of early obesity. Making the situation worse was that he had actually chosen to wear a green suit jacket with yellow plaid, worn, of course, with no tie and with the top several buttons open to reveal a hairy chest and several exceedingly wide gold chains. When he saw Daring Do looking at him, his eyes immediately turned to her- -and more specifically her wings. Then she saw him wink, and Daring Do could not help but note that he was the exact same shade of pink as Spoiled Rich.

The intimidating unicorn’s eyes quickly took account of each pony before her while her expression did not change in the slightest. Then, finally, her eyes settled on Daring Do.

“Dearest sister,” she said, her voice completely neutral, “this is certainly unexpected. I am pleased, though.”

Spoiled audibly gasped. “S- -sister?!”

“Not biologically,” snapped Daring Do.

“Of course not,” replied Wun. “That would be ridiculous.”

“Well,” laughed Filthy Rich, “the more family the better. Isn’t that right, Chunky?”

Chunky Milk, the earth-pony beside Wun, chuckled. “Sure is, Filthy,” he said. His voice was both high and weirdly gravely, making it strangely unpleasant. He put his hoof around Wun’s back, even as his eyes never once left Daring Do’s wings- -or her cutie mark. Several audible gasps came from throughout the room, but Wun remained completely stationary, as if Chunky was too insignificant for her to bother noticing.

“…and,” continued Chunky, “it’s all the better when your family has money. Isn’t that right, sis?”

Spoiled Rich glowered. Daring Do was not sure why. If she had been asked to guess, she would have supposed that it was because Chunky Milk’s new wife was significantly more wealthy than Spoiled Rich’s husband.

“Nevertheless,” said Wun, her voice and expression still seemingly impassive, “I am willing to admit that I am surprised that you are here. Perhaps you have finally decided to take up your father’s mantle and continue his business?”

Daring Do could barely prevent her expression from turning into an intense glare. “Not a chance.”

Wun smiled very slightly. “A pity,” she said. “Some of my most prized pieces were acquired through his company.”

“And oh boy what a collection it is!” laughed Chunky. “You wouldn’t believe it even if you saw it!”

“I think I would,” said Daring Do icily.

“I mean, I’ve been pricing it out over the last three months. I- -I mean we- -could probably buy half of Manehattan if we just sold a quarter of it- -”

He was silenced by a glare from one so withering that even Daring Do felt the urge to step back. Rainbow Dash actually did, and all the color drained from Chunky Milk’s face. He immediately tore his hoof away from his wife’s silk-clad back as though he had been burned.

“I’m just saying,” he stammered, “not the good quarter, just the junk!”

“Junk, you say?” said Wun, silently. Her expression had not changed terribly much, apart from her eyes. Daring Do recognized that expression well. Although he had been more animated, it was a look that Wun’s father had given her on more than one occasion.

Spoiled smiled cruelly. “Should I get a shovel, Chunky? So you can keep digging yourself even deeper?”

“There is no need,” said Wun. “I understand that my dear husband is of course joking. My collection represents a great deal of effort and sacrifice, both from myself in terms of cost and from many other ponies in terms of other aspects. I do not intend to part with any of it, ever. Except perhaps to pass it to an heir, when that time comes.”

At the mention of an heir, both Chunky and Spoiled’s eyes lit up. An heir that would, no doubt, give the Milk family vast influence over the most powerful trade in southeastern Equestria.

“Well,” laughed Chunky, “if you want, after the party- -”

“My dear husband,” interrupted Wun, “I am attempting to speak with my sister. Kindly follow your brother-in-law’s tactful example and become silent.”

Chunky looked as though he had been struck, but still managed to laugh. “Well, sure,” he said. “I’ll let you two babes talk. That’s what mares like to do more than anything, isn’t it?” He turned to Rainbow Dash and an exceedingly unpleasant smile crossed his face. He stepped forward, causing Rainbow Dash to gag on the exceedingly potent scent of his cologne. “But I do like being social. So how about I take your niece here and…show her around?” He momentarily took his eyes off Rainbow Dash’s wings and winked at her. Rainbow Dash shivered violently.

“I’m not going anywhere,” said Rainbow Dash once she had recovered. “Except maybe outside.”

“Oh!” said Chunky, raising his eyebrows expectantly. “Outside?”

“Yeah. So I can punch YOU in the snoot!”

Rainbow Dash made an exceedingly rude gesture, and Chunky jumped back in surprise. Spoiled looked as though she were about to faint, but Filthy burst out laughing. Even Wun herself smiled, albeit very weakly.

“How charming,” she said, her gaze turning back to Daring Do. “She has a fiery spirit. I can see that she takes after her mother.”

Daring Do said nothing, but she did allow herself to smile as she watched Chunky retreat behind his wife’s flank like a child who had just been told he could not play with a new toy.

“That was amusing,” continued Wun. “If only mildly. However I am more interested in why you are here, Daring.”

“There was something I wanted to speak to you about.”

“You?” cried Spoiled. “Speak to HER?!”

“I am equally surprised,” said Wun, although neither her expression nor her voice betrayed it. In fact, it almost seemed that she had anticipated this series of events. Daring Do wondered just how much she knew about the Hand of Doom. “Considering that despite our relation, you and I are not friends. Nor are you friends with the majority of my business associates.”

Wun’s eyes moved slowly toward a pony that Daring Do could not see. She turned sharply, and found herself face-to-face with a dark-colored earth-pony in a well fitted dark suit and silken ascot.

Rainbow Dash gasped in horror and, oddly, excitement. “Caballeron!” she cried, taking a fighting stance. Daring Do, likewise, prepared for a fight.

“Now now,” said Cabbaleron, holding up a hoof dismissively. “Daring, my dear! You should know better. Fighting at a fine party such as this?” His eyes glimmered smugly. “You wouldn’t want to offend our generous and much beloved host, now, would you?”

Rainbow Dash rushed forward, but Daring Do stopped her. She already knew what was happening- -and that fighting Caballeron here would be impossible.

“Indeed,” said Wun, “Dr. Caballeron is currently one of my most successful suppliers since the collapse of your father’s company. As you are aware, I am not an adventurer. Simply a lover of history. I prefer my pieces to arrive clean, without excessive dirt, boxed and prepared for display. And Caballeron always delivers.”

“But- -but he’s evil!” cried Rainbow Dash.

“Not from my perspective,” said Wun, calmly.

Rainbow Dash pushed against Daring Do’s grip, but Daring Do held her firm. “Daring?” she said, confused. “But- -but he’s right there!”

Caballeron chuckled. Then he leaned forward to both of them. “There is more than one way to trap a pony. And not all of them require me to bind you with rope.”

Caballeron walked past them. Trailing him was a mare who was apparently his date. She was a white Pegasus with long auburn hair and wingtips, and she wore a complicated but elegant black dress. She spoke little, but eyed Daring Do with intense hatred. Only then did Daring Do notice the strange blue-green milkiness of her eyes. Those eyes gave Daring Do a strange but clearly bad feeling.

“Lady Perr-Synt,” he said, bowing deeply. Although Wun did not show it, Daring Do knew that she was greatly pleased. She loved when ponies bowed to her.

Chunky’s eyes narrowed. “That’s ‘Lady Milk’ to you.”

“Indeed! Congratulations on your marriage. Love is such a beautiful thing, isn’t it?”

“It is,” said the Pegasus beside Caballeron, immediately snuggling her face against his side. Spoiled suddenly looked exceedingly nauseous, although Daring Do could not tell if it was from seeing an earth-pony bowing before a high-blooded unicorn or seeing that his apparent lover was a dirty Pegasus.

“It certainly is!” said Filthy Rich, hugging his wife only to be pushed promptly away. He seemed to care little, though, as he had clearly grown used to it. “See, darling? I told you we weren’t the only earth-ponies there.”

“Yes. Although clearly the only ones of any monetary worth.” She chuckled to herself, and the white Pegasus glared at her.

“Lady Perr-Synt is certainly generous,” she said. She had a strange accent that Daring Do could not place. “I was not aware that any new-money would be attending this party.”

Spoiled gasped in horror at the inconceivable insult and turned several shades darker. Caballeron just frowned deeply.

“Argiopé,” chastised Caballeron, “there is no need to be rude.”

“Exactly, Herr Doktor.”

“Although I do agree that this event is quite generous. You certainly spared no expense.”

“I never spare expense. There is no need to. I am wealthy.”

Daring Do stood next to Caballeron. She was only feet away, but knew there was nothing she could do about it. The expression on the face of the mare Argiopé toward her roughly represented what Daring Do was feeling toward Caballeron, although Daring Do hid it better.

“I am curious, Caballeron,” she said. “As to why you are even in Signapone? Did you come all the way out here for this party?”

Caballeron laughed. He was certainly enjoying himself, knowing that he had Daring Do at a disadvantage. Daring Do could almost hear Rainbow Dash’s teeth grinding, but the young mare had mostly gone silent. She was watching this from afar, just as she would as if she were reading it in a book.

“Well, my dear,” he said, “while it certainly is an honor to witness the legendary Perr-Synt collection- -”

“Milk,” corrected Chunky.

“- -I truly came to wish my most loyal- -and most beautiful- -customer best wishes on her recent wedding.”

“And you already did that,” snapped Chunky. “So you can go now. And stay away from my wife.”

Wun ignored him completely. “Thank you, doctor,” she said.

“Although I must apologize for my lateness. I was terribly busy and missed the wedding itself!”

“Because you weren’t invited,” said Chunky. “Only rich ponies allowed.”

Caballeron winced slightly. Daring Do had rarely seen him express this much patience; in any other setting, Chunky would be bound and quite possibly tied to the back of a manticore by now.

“It was a lavish affair,” bragged Spoiled. “It was held on an entire flotilla out on the bay.” She glared at Filthy. “Certainly not held in a small-town courthouse.”

“My father was married in that courthouse,” said Filty, sighing as though he knew exactly where this argument was going. “And Diamond Tiara will be married there, too, if she chooses- -”

“My daughter will NOT be married in that dusty old building! I expect you to pay for a NAVY! And have a real Celestian priest, not just the mayor!”

“But I find myself wondering, Daring,” continued Caballeron, ignoring all other ponies save for her and Wun, “what you are doing here? Because I doubt we came here for the same purpose. That would simply be ridiculous…”

“I came here because I have business with Wun.”

“Ah. Not trying to move onto my most profitable customer, are you?”

“There would be not competition,” added Wun. “I would gladly purchase from you both.”

“You don’t have to worry. I wouldn’t sell to her anyway. EVER.”

“A shame. Because she is quite generous.” He cleared his throat. “But if you will excuse me, Daring, I need to speak with my client in private. Concerning some new developments in archaic translation techniques I would like to discuss. Certainly something you have no formal training in, I’m sure.”

Argiopé leaned over Caballeron, moving her front legs in such a way to indicate that the entirety of her chest was exposed, complete with significant Pegasus chest-fluff. She smiled harshly. “Indeed,” she said. “The doctor is a very cunning linguist!”

She licked her lips, and Daring Do could have sworn she had a forked tongue. Then she departed with him, leaving Daring Do alone with Filthy and Spoiled Rich, as well as Rainbow Dash.

“I’m going to get some punch,” said Rainbow Dash through gritted teeth. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

Daring Do grabbed her shoulder. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

Rainbow Dash nodded, and then walked off.

There was silence for a moment. “Well,” said Filthy Rich at last. “I think that went pretty well, didn’t it? These parties are always so lively. Ms. Do, would you like to accompany my wife and I to the refreshments table?”

Daring Do sighed. “Thank you. But I’ve been out of society for a long time. For good reason, I think. That was really stressful. I need to cool off.”

“Of course. But don’t be a stranger! I have pictures of my daughter if you’d like to see them! She’s absolutely adorable! She looks just like her mother!”

Daring Do winced, and started to walk toward a less populated area of the room.
 

Chapter 12: At the Party

Despite her insistence on “going to get some punch”, Rainbow Dash did not actually intend to punch anypony. In fact, she only realized the connection as she was walking to the line where the bowl was located.

“Oh,” said Rainbow Dash, feeling herself blush with embarrassment. Daring Do had actually thought she was going to hit somepony.

She was, of course, not. Despite her brash attitude Rainbow Dash had learned- -with some difficulty- - how to behave at parties. She had of course been to several that were even more elaborate and fancy than this particular one: the Grand Galloping Gala, for one, as well as Princess Cadence and Shining Armor’s wedding, Twilight’s coronation, and the reception after Flurry Heart’s crystalling. She knew how to behave when trying to be fancy.

And part of that behavior relied on punch. Especially if the punch was made of- -or just entirely consisted of- -cider. The punch at this party did not seem to be cider-based, though; it was a pale yellow color and smelled like some kind of tropical fruit.

Rainbow Dash hardly cared. She took a large- -and exceedingly fancy- -glass of it from a serving pony and downed it in one gulp. She then took another, and drank that one more slowly.

“Hey,” said Rainbow Dash. “This stuff is actually pretty good. Is that pineapple?”

The serving pony stared at her and smiled. He was a thin unicorn with almost excessively bulging eyes, and Rainbow Dash was sure she could see the edges of a tattoo under his sleeves.

“I’m glad you like it,” he said. His voice was accented strangely, and Rainbow Dash had an urge to step away from him, which she did.

Looking around the room, there was not much else to do. Which was better. Rainbow Dash would stand near the refreshments and drink punch until she felt better, then she would go back and find Daring Do. It was as simple as that. Parties like this were not exactly her specialty, so her primary interest on what her hero was up to. From across the room, she could see her separating from Filthy and Spoiled Rich. The pair of earth-ponies proceeded toward where a table full of expensive food- -at least twenty times the amount that all the guests put together would be able to eat, even if they ate until they were stuffed twice over- -with Spoiled Rich glaring at Rainbow Dash the whole while. Daring Do, meanwhile, approached several of the display cases aligned on the far side of the room.

The rest of the ponies did not interest Rainbow Dash too much. They were clearly all fabulously wealthy, or at least were trying to be, but they looked exactly like the same background ponies that could be found in literally any town or city throughout Equestria.

Then, suddenly, one of the background ponies emerged as a distinct figure.

“Bon Bon?” cried Rainbow Dash, surprised by her sudden appearance.

“Shut your cake hole and walk with me,” said Bon Bon, forcibly turning Rainbow Dash around so that they would face the punch table and leading her toward it- -but not toward the tattooed unicorn, who appeared to have vanished.

“Bon Bon, you’re going to bruise me!”

“Cake hole. Shut it. NOW. Here.” Bon Bon picked up a small plate filled with a small and probably absurdly expensive piece of cake and promptly shoved the entire confection into Rainbow Dash’s mouth. “Don’t choke. Listen.” Bon Bon- -or Sweetie Drops, as she was known when not under cover- -lowered her voice. “What in the name of Celestia’s divine cellulite are YOU doing HERE? Especially with HER?” She pointed at Daring Do.

Rainbow Dash replied, but her words were muffled by the cake in her mouth.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full. You’re at a fancy party for Celestia’s sake. Here.” Sweetie Drops gave Rainbow Dash another glass of punch. Rainbow Dash sipped it, washing the cake down.

“If you do that again, I’ll- -”

“Punch me in the snoot? Sure. Go ahead. I’ll bop you one right back.”

Rainbow Dash did not strike Sweetie Drops. There was really no reason to. In addition, although her and Bon Bon were not close, they were still almost neighbors. Her and Lyra lived just down the block from Rarity’s boutique; Rainbow Dash saw them all the time.

Sweetie Drops groaned. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done? Months of work planning this, and you walk in here and mess all of it up!”

“What are you talking about?”

“Less volume!” Sweetie Drops looked around suspiciously, and then continued. “You know Caballeron is at this party.”

“Yeah. I just saw him. He’s over- -”

“I saw you seeing him. And that’s the problem!”

“I don’t understand!”

“Over six months went into planning this operation. Getting our agents into this party, setting up surveillance. Originally it was to find evidence of illegal trade in oiliphant tusks. Until we reworked it for HIM.”

Rainbow Dash’s eyes widened. “This is a sting!” she whispered. “You’re trying to take down Caballeron!”

“We were until you shoved your hoof in it!”

“But he’s right there- -”

“And so are twenty one bison warriors! Plus Caballeron’s ponies.”

“Wait, there’s more?”

Sweetie Drops looked at Rainbow Dash as though the Pegasus were an abject moron. “There’s five here, plus his date. That guy you just took punch from? He’s one of them. For the record, he drugged you.”

Rainbow Dash’s eyes widened. “Wh- -what?” She began to feel ill and started to swoon, which only accelerated her panic.

“Stop being melodramatic.”

“You’re not the one who got drugged!”

“I already dosed you with the antidote.”

“You- -you drugged me TOO?!”

“Volume. And no, I un-drugged you. You can thank me later. Right now, you can get out of here.”

“Not without Daring Do.”

Sweetie Drops winced and fell silent for a moment before sighing loudly. “Yeah. That’s not going to happen. Perr-Synt already has her in her sights. And worse? Caballeron’s sure to be on high alert now.”

“But you’re a government agent, couldn’t you just- -”

“I can’t do anything! This was a fact-finding mission! To squeeze evidence out of him and get a tracking plant on one of his guys. That’s hard enough without you getting in the way! How did you even know he was here?!”

“We didn’t!”

Sweetie Drops blinked. “You WHAT?!”

“Volume, Bon Bon. Volume?” Rainbow Dash started to smile smugly, but she saw how angry Sweetie Drops was and felt bad for her. “Daring Do said she got a letter. She didn’t say from who.”

“From whom.”

“Don’t correct my grammers, Twilight already does it enough!”

“Sorry. A letter?”

“It was sent by night-mail when we were in the Crystal Empire. We took the Jetstream here. We knew Caballeron was in Singapone, looking for something.” Rainbow Dash did not mention that the “something” was the Hand of Doom. “We wanted to beat him to whatever he’s trying to get to. Daring Do wanted to talk to Wun; she didn’t know Caballeron would be here! And how did you get here so fast? You don’t even have wings!” Rainbow Dash paused. “Or…do you?”

Sweetie Drops ignored her. “If Caballeron’s on an active mission, it collaborates the note that my agent left. But why would he be in Singapone?”

“That’s what we’re trying to find out.”

“But there aren’t any significant artifacts in Singapone. Not even legendary ones.” She paused. “Except right here in this house…” She shook her head. “Well, stop trying to figure things out and leave. I’ll handle this. “

“Like heck.”

“Don’t swear. And don’t defy me. I have access to dungeons Celestia doesn’t even know about. You know, plausible deniability and all. Once I know where Caballeron’s hideout is, I’ll have him in one of them. And if you get in my way again, you’ll be on the rack right next to him.”

“You can take your rack and shove it where the sun don’t shine.”

“Doesn’t. And no, the sun doesn’t shine there. Hence why Celestia doesn’t know about it.”

Rainbow Dash was about to- -at least in her own mind- -generate a witty comeback when her medallion suddenly vibrated slightly and hitched. Sweetie Drops’s eyes were immediately drawn to it. She raised an eyebrow.

“What in Equestria are you doing with a vedmak amulet?”

“Why do you even know what it is?”

“Because I was raised by vedmarks in Care Morab. It’s why I’m the best at what I do.” She leaned forward. “But it’s concerning that it vibrated…”

“It’s probably a glitch.” Rainbow Dash shrugged. “I’m pretty sure it’s broken. Or fake. I mean, I was just standing over there right next to Wun and the thing didn’t move an inch.”

“It wouldn’t. Vedmark amulets don’t react to unicorns.”

Rainbow Dash frowned. “What?”

“It’s a historical fact that vedmarks had a relentless appetite for unicorn sorceresses. Their amulets don’t generally react to unicorn magic unless the spell is prodigiously intense. They’re mostly used for detecting traps and anomalies.”

“Anomalies?”

Sweetie Drops nodded. “Either exceptionally dark magic, or artifacts of exceeding power.”

Rainbow Dash looked down at the now silent and stationary armadillo head. It almost seemed to look back at her ominously with its tiny red eyes. “But then…why did it just vibrate right now?”

If there was one thing that could be said about Wun Perr-Synt, it was that her choice in the artifacts she collected was invariably striking. This was not a positive attribute.

Daring Do moved amongst the display cases. They were tall, each one made from transparent glass arranged into large square boxes with lavish endangered hardwood used to make the bases and the tops where the lighting units were contained.

Many of the wealthy partygoers had walked by these objects, staring at them and occasionally commenting, if only because these things were of great value to the wealthiest among them. Few if any of them understood the artifacts themselves as well as Daring Do did, though. None of them realized just how horrible these things were.

There was a suit of armor, one that by its design had quite clearly belonged to an ancient shogun. Daring Do knew the figure it belonged to; his name had translated to “Beautiful Ocean”. She also knew of the grand battle against a group of seven unicorn mages that he had led, and she knew what had become of him. The armor remembered as well: though complete, it was battered and damaged, its formerly beautiful surface charred by hideous spells and enchanted weapons. The breast plate still even bore a slit-shaped hole that sat directly over where Beautiful Ocean’s heart had once beat for his now long-collapsed nation.

The next case contained an object of far less historical significance. From a distance, it looked like a single large piece of highly polished amber sitting on a red cushion. Such a gem would be adequate for most wealthy collectors, but not Wun. The amber contained within it two ancient breezies, both trapped eternally weeping together in one final embrace.

Daring Do could hardly look at the amber and moved on. The next, though, was no less heartwrenching. In the case, held aloft by a pair of half-moon shaped polycarbonate supports, was a small bundle of faded, dirty cloth. It had been partially unwrapped to reveal the earth-colored, sunken face of a mummy. A mummy who had been no longer than the length of Daring Do’s foreleg.

There were more, but Daring Do did not want to see what was in them. She instead focused on the ground and the tiles carved from rare fossil-bearing stone as she walked, only to see that several of the tiles contained numerous cross-sectional skeletons. Of ponies.

Finally, she stopped. Daring Do lifted her head and stared into a display case mounted in the center of all the others. The artifact inside was a mask of some sort, carved into the shape of a pony head, although with no distinct mouth and horizontal slits for eyes. It closely resembled the ancient masks worn by king Sombra’s enslaved soldiers, but this one was different. It was far more detailed, and made of an unidentifiable red material. Likewise, it showed extensive damage. The upper right quarter seemed to have been removed by some kind of blast or explosion, leaving significant charring on the rest. The remainder of it was pitted and fractured as though it were diseased.

“Do you like it?” said Wun, appearing to materialize out of the air itself. Daring Do did not react; she had long ago grown accustomed to the fact that Wun quite enjoyed being able to sneak up to ponies undetected.

Now that her presence was known, Wun stood next to Daring Do and began to contemplate the mask. “They call it ‘The Masque of Red Death’,” she explained. “Although that is likely a modern or pre-modern coinage. Appropriate but incorrect. That was not what it was called when the unicorn mage Scarlet Mist bore it.”

“One of the Dark Thirteen,” noted Daring Do.

Wun smiled. “Indeed. This is one of their last artifacts. One of the few that the uneducated rabble was not able to find a way to destroy when they were invariably hunted down and eliminated.” She paused. “I’m pleased you know it.”

“I also know that it’s unbelievably cursed.”

Wun smiled again and approached the case. “Of course I have taken precautions,” she said. She gracefully lifted one gloved hoof and taped against the glass- -or what Daring Do had taken for glass. Instead of making a sound, though, the surface distorted and released a strange rustling whistle. A ripple of strange golden runes appeared on the transparent surface and were momentarily visible as the surface distorted almost imperceptibly.

“A containment spell.”

“An exceedingly expensive one,” sighed Wun. “But as I’ve mentioned. I never spare expense. I can afford this. Or ten of these, if I need them. I want my guests to be safe.”

“And if a pony is not your guest?”

The smile on Wun’s lips faded, but the one in her eyes grew. “How perceptive, sister. Yes. I lost three authenticators on this particular specimen. And a great deal more of far cheaper ponies.”

“Ponies are not disposable.”

“Of course they are. All of them. Even you. And why should they not be? They did their job, after all. The presence of the curse is undeniable authentication that the Masque is, indeed, the genuine article.”

Daring Do just shook her head. “You make me sick.”

“Yes. I know. I find it amusing. How sensitive you are, in contrast to myself. It is poetic, almost.”

“That mask should be contained. Locked in a sealed vault and only accessed by scientists with the proper equipment to work with it. And the rest of this stuff?” Daring Do gestured to it. “This…this is just morbid!”

“Do you have the right to claim that? These are artifacts. Ancient relics. The same sort that you, like myself, have dedicated your life to preserving.”

“These should be in museums!” Daring Do pointed at the nearest case, the one containing the mummy. “That- -that was a little girl! And you put her under glass, so that rich ponies can gawk at her!”

“So you would prefer that she were placed in a museum, so that much greater numbers of less wealthy ponies can gawk at her instead? Or perhaps I can have her returned to the desert where she can turn to dust in the sand in obscurity and all alone.”

“That isn’t what I meant!”

“Isn’t it?” snapped Wun. She paused, waiting to see if Daring Do retorted. When she was met with nothing but silence, she continued. “Daring. How long have I known you?”

“Since I was eleven.”

“I remember. We met just after my two hundred thirtieth birthday. Your father was a dear friend of mine. He sent you to me for tutoring, because there were few alive at that time who were as knowable as myself in this subject. Unfortunately you preferred to spend your early teenage years in the slums, getting into fights.”

“I didn’t much like you then, either.”

“Of course not. But yet here we are, admiring an ancient mask and holding a civil conversation. Because despite this mild acrimony, we are still sisters.”

Daring Do paused, and then sighed. “I know. I hate to admit it so much. It’s not even really you I hate. Wun, why do you have to do this? If we worked together…”

“Then my collection would be distributed into museums, moldering and impossible for me to enjoy. Daring. This is in my nature. Look around you. This is a tiny fraction of what I have spent my life doing. It is my passion, my special talent, so to speak. Masks, armor, weapons, the curses of my ancestors…” She pointed by turning her head slightly. “Even my guards. You have surely seen my security.”

“Bison.”

“Quite observant, surely. Yes. Bison. From a tribe in the vicinity of a town called Appleoosa. They are from the last extant bison herd. And I own almost half of their adult population.”

“Is that the same reason you got him?” Daring Do pointed at Chunky Milk, who was across the room quite aggressively flirting with a pair of mares who were even younger than Rainbow Dash. He reached out and pinched one of their cutie marks, and was promptly drenched with punch from both of their glasses.

Wun smiled. “No,” she said. “Not at all. He is unspectacular and unique. He is boorish, greedy, uncultured, stupid, and unbelievably arrogant.”

“Really? Because I assumed you only even tolerate him because he’s good in a saddle.”

“He does look good in a saddle. For an earth-pony. But I am sure you have heard what they say about his type. That in lacking a horn and wings, they compensate for it elsewhere. Namely in obedience and docility.”

“So you’re telling me that you find him amusing.”

“I do find him so, for the moment at least. Did you know that he actually believes that he will inherit my fortune? My company, my position, even my collection. I have seen him surveying it, trying to take inventory and price out how much everything is worth.”

“He couldn’t possibly be that stupid.”

“To know that I will almost assuredly outlive him three times over, at least? Certainly not. He sees me as being your age, as though I were an earth-pony two. Which I suppose I find somewhat refreshing. Our long lives do grow somewhat dull after several centuries. But every night I dream of the look on his face as he slowly watches himself age while I do not, until he realizes that it’s too late for him to even attempt to produce a mare. And until he fades away while I remain young and beautiful for another century.”

“You’re sick, Wun.”

“And yet you have the option to go over to him and inform him of his mistake. And yet you do not.”

“Who knows? Maybe I might. But not now. He deserves a little fun. And maybe you do to.”

Wun raised a thin eyebrow, or where her eyebrows would have been if she had possessed any. “That is an interesting perspective.”

“I never got to say it. I’m sorry about Wun Hun Dredd.”

“Are you? Even after you foiled his foolish attempts at gaining immortality at every turn? I doubt it. And Although I loved my father, I always understood that I would take his company eventually. By force, if necessary. In that respect, I am glad that you succeeded.”

“You say that. But then you go and marry a guy who your dad would have tied to a rock and thrown into a bottomless chasm.”

Wun paused for a long moment. “Was it the same? For you. When Well-To passed on to the Aether.”

“Not exactly,” sighed Daring Do. “But I know how you feel. It doesn’t matter if your thirty or three hundred. Or even three thousand, I think. It’s the same emotion. We just deal with it differently because we’re different ponies.”

Wun stared for a moment. “An unexpected sentiment, coming from you.”

The pair of them lapsed into silence for a long moment, facing the crowd of living ponies rather than the artifacts and glaring mask at their backs. Then, finally, Wun spoke.

“You came here for a reason. I do not think reassuring me about my father’s passing was your goal.”

“I heard a rumor.”

“Many revolve around me. Which one did you encounter?”

“That you recently acquired an Exmoori artifact.”

Wun’s eyes slowly turned toward Daring Do. She stared intently for a moment. As she did, a large black crow descended from overhead. It was apparently meant to be there, or was even an aspect of Wun’s collection, because it sat on her shoulder. She stroked it gently as she contemplated what she was about to say.

“If given the opportunity to own an artifact of the Exmoor ponies,” she said, slowly, “I would gladly trade my horn in exchange. As you know that is not an expression. From me, it serves as a solemn promise. A true, functional piece of their world. Carved by their own hooves. It is worth that much to me.”

“That doesn’t answer the question.”

“It does,” replied Wun, “because as you can see, my horn is still attached. No. Had I such an artifact, it would be the crowning jewel of my collection. Yet I do not. I do not know who disseminated this rumor, but they were incorrect. Perhaps they held me in too high of esteem.”

“I doubt it,” said Daring Do. “It was an archeologist. He claimed you were hiring authenticators.”

“Yes. Because three of them were expended on their work with the Masque. And I always have an interest in those who even believe that the Exmoori existed. Had I enough I would consider funding an expedition. Perhaps one with either you or Caballeron at the head. Or both, if you could set your differences aside.”

“I’m not interested in hunting down artifacts from a civilization that probably didn’t even exist. Especially with Caballeron.”

“That is a lie. You would not have asked me otherwise. Or come here at all to do so.”

Daring Do was silent. So was Wun. Then Wun began to walk away. “I can see on your face that you do not believe me. Caballeron did not believe me either. I possess no Exmoori artifacts. You, I think, might understand the honesty in that statement better than he did.”

“Because you never lie about your collection.”

Wun looked back. “Yes. Especially to my own sister.”

Chapter 13: The Black Stallion

The party carried on, but without Daring Do and Rainbow Dash. Daring Do had learned as much as she could from Wun, and had come to the conclusion that Dulcimer was almost certainly mistaken. He had confused Wun’s search for Exmoori experts as an indication that she possessed an artifact; or, perhaps, he might have heard it second-hoof from somepony else who had misinterpreted the situation. Either way, he had been wrong- -and Daring Do was angry that she had actually put hope into anything that the hopeless academic prattled on about.

Rainbow Dash, meanwhile, had no real reason to stay. Her clothing was horribly uncomfortable, and there was no one to talk to. Bon Bon- -or Sweetie Drops, apparently- -had vanished almost as soon as she had arrived, disappearing into the background. The only ponies left that Rainbow Dash knew were Filthy and Spoiled, the latter of whom was not somepony she wanted to get anywhere near. For the others, it was impossible to tell if they were ordinary but profoundly wealthy ponies or if they were actually Caballeron’s henchponies. Rainbow Dash avoided them regardless, although she did at one point have an urge to talk to Caballeron himself. After all, it was not every day that one received a chance to speak to Daring Do’s arch nemesis. Of course, Rainbow Dash had decided that doing so was probably a really bad idea.

The night was still young, but Rainbow Dash had grown exceedingly tired. Sleep, though, was nearly impossible. So, instead, she lay on the bed of small, cheap hotel room, staring at the slightly moldering ceiling. Water was running in the bathroom. Rainbow Dash listened as it stopped. What that implied did not really occur to her until Daring Do stepped out of the washroom nude.

Rainbow Dash shot up suddenly. “Wha- -you’re not wearing clothes!”

Daring Do looked down at herself. “Um. Yeah. I’m a pony.”

“Oh.” Rainbow Dash blushed. “Sorry. It’s just…I’m really used to seeing you in the jacket and hat.”

“I don’t wear them when I sleep. At least not in hotels.” Daring Do stretched, and a pained expression crossed her face. She then approached a small, rickety table where her shirt was placed haphazardly. She began to go through the pockets. “Sorry about the hotel,” she said. “I know you’re usually used to clouds.”

“No, it’s fine. I mean, I’ve slept in worse. I once spent two nights in Applejack’s woodshed.”

“Why?”

“Well, I slept in on the first one and woke up at eight.”

“That’s not that late.”

“PM. So I decided that I might as well just go to bed at that point.”

“Are you sure you’re not a narcoleptic?”

Rainbow Dash grimaced. “Isn’t that that thing necromancers do?”

“No, that’s necro- -no. Never mind.” Daring Do shook her head and removed several small bottles of pills from her shirt’s various pockets. “I would have got us a better one, but I spent most of my money on that amulet.”

“The amulet?” Rainbow Dash turned toward the pitted end-table, where the amulet lay staring back at her, its chain curled around like a long silver tail. “Wait. How much did that actually cost?”

“Don’t worry about it. Like your friend said, I’m in the process of squandering my father’s fortune. I just don’t carry much cash.”

“Friend? You mean Spoiled? Oh no, she is DEFINITLY NOT my friend! I mean, Twilight says we’re supposed to be friendly to everypony, but…come on. You saw her. I don’t even know what Filthy sees in her.”

“Is that the jealously I hear?”

A look of disgust crossed Rainbow Dash’s face. “WHAT? Jealous of HER- -because of FILTHY? I mean, come on! His name is LITERALLY ‘Filthy’! And he’s like a gagillion years old!”

Daring Do chuckled. “Dash, I was joking. You’re too young for marrying for money anyway.”

“I don’t know if anypony is ever old enough. Well, except Spoiled.”

“Spoiled Milk…Filthy Rich…do parents in Ponyville hate their children or something?” Daring Do began opening the pill bottles and pouring out many small pills of various colors.

“I don’t think so. I mean, it’s a pretty loving place…um…what are those pills for?”

Daring Do looked up, and then back down at the pills, and then up again. “Oh. These.”

“Yeah. Those.”

“They’re prescriptions.”

“For what?”

“That’s private.”

“Did you drink the water? Because Twilight says that can give you the trots. And I hate trotting. It’s so slow!”

“No, I’m immune to drinking the water. I’ve drank a lot of it. Drinked? Drunk?”

“Not at the moment, no.”

They both laughed, but Daring Do’s laughter faded first. “These pills are because I’m old, Dash.”

“What?! No way! You’re, like, my age! And I’m what…” Rainbow Dash counted on her hooves. “Nineteen?”

“Then I’m old enough to be your mother. Or grandmother depending on the timeline.”

“That’s impossible! Unless you came in contact with some sort of long-life artifact thing…” Rainbow Dash clapped her hooves to her face and gasped. “You’re not immortal, are you? It all makes SENSE now! When you stopped Wun Hun Dredd from attaining the Lazarus stone- -”

“He never completed the spell. The stone was never activated. And no. I’m not immortal. I just look good.” She stood up and winced, then limped over to the opposite nightstand where her notes were stored. “At least on the outside…”

She sat on the bed. Rainbow Dash could clearly see that one of her wings was drooping and crooked. Only then did she realize that Daring Do was in pain, maybe even a lot of pain.

“Daring? Are you okay? Did you hurt yourself?”

“Only about a thousand times a year since I was your age,” she sighed. She then gave a pained smile. “I’ll be fine, though.”

She lay down in the bed- -next to Rainbow Dash. Rainbow Dash gasped so hard some of the peeling paint under the windowsill dropped off.

“Um…Daring Do…what are you doing?”

“There’s only one bed,” she said.

“Oh. Well- -um- -I can sleep on the floor. It wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Why?”

“Because- -you know- -bed- -together- -”

“We’re both mares.”

“I know that!”

Daring Do lifted an eyebrow and stared at Rainbow Dash confusedly, clearly not understanding why Rainbow Dash was blushing so heavily. “Okay. It’s not like I’m going to force you. But if you’re going to be any use tomorrow you need to sleep well. If you think you can do that on the floor and not wake up stiff, go ahead. Celestia knows I can’t.” Daring Do moved toward the edge of the bed. “I’ll leave space for you if you change your mind.”

Rainbow Dash sputtered incoherently, trying to form a logical protest. Daring Do apparently did not care to listen. She turned onto her side and promptly went to sleep. Rainbow Dash stared at her for what felt like several minutes.

“Well…” she said to herself. “I don’t want to wake up stiff…”

The dream began reasonably normally, or at least as normal as a dream could be. Rainbow Dash was laughing with her friends as she walked through the halls of the Crystal Citadel. For some reason, the hallways did not correspond with the way they were actually designed; they just seemed to curve onward forever, making Rainbow Dash wonder why it was taking so long to get to the kitchen.

Sunburst was there, but he was also Twilight. He- -or she, depending on how the conversation went- -was pushing a baby carriage. Flurry Heart was in it, and Rainbow Dash could also see Pinkie Pie peeking out from beneath the blankets. Which was strange, because Rainbow Dash was sure that Pinkie Pie was supposed to be in Canterlot; in fact, she was somewhat angry because she leant Pinkie her shoes for just that purpose.

Rarity was there too. She was dripping wet. Rainbow Dash did not know why, but as they were walking she kept wanting to rub her side against Rarity’s. Every time she tried, Rarity would laugh. Always the same laugh, repeating over and over again.

Then in an instant the dream changed. The air grew cold, and Rarity was gone. Rainbow Dash blinked and inhaled sharply. The air was frigid, and she was alone.

The Crystal Citadel remained, but it had grown dark. The long hallways that had formerly just been an inexplicable annoyance suddenly became ominous and vast tunnels with no known exits. Rainbow Dash stopped walking. She wanted to run, to fly away, but darkness surrounded her on both ends. Darkness that was not empty.

Something was moving. Crawling. Rainbow Dash could hear the clicking of metal-clad hooves against crystal. They were too irregular and too fast to be a pony; it was as though a recording of the sound of hoofsteps had been accelerated to a manic speed.

Then she saw it. A dark thing skittering across the ceiling. Watching frozen in horror, Rainbow Dash saw it descend silently to the floor, never stopping as it scuttled forward. It was a grotesque, eyeless black thing, like an enormous insect. She saw the glimmer of metal beneath the rags it wore, and heard a dull, low screech like the call of a distant, echoing bird.

She turned. She tried to run, or to fly, but she could not. Her body would not respond. It had betrayed her.

Then it stopped. Rainbow Dash closed her eyes, crying. All she could think about was how if Daring Do had seen her crying like that, she would not tolerate her tagging along in the adventure anymore. But she could not stop herself.

A sound came from the thing beside her: a strange mechanical gurgling. That was how it breathed, though machines. Without looking, Rainbow Dash understood that the thing now sinking its long fangs into her neck was not alive. It had not been for a long, long time.

Rainbow Dash awoke with a gasp. At first she was confused and unsure where she was, or even who she was. Then, slowly, the memories of the world came into focus. She was in a hotel room, lying in bed. It was dark. There was little if any light, save for a thin sliver of moonlight that came through the musty blinds over the small window on the left side of the room.

Then she remembered that Daring Do was also in the bed. In fact, they were not only sharing it, but Daring Do had moved in her sleep and was now snuggling against Rainbow Dash’s midsection, wrapping it in a hug. Her breathing was steady and silent; it was clear that she was completely and totally asleep.

This should have been an overwhelmingly joyful situation for Rainbow Dash, and for a few precious moments it was- -until she realized that she was completely and totally unable to move.

Her breathing accelerated. Rainbow Dash distantly recalled that this happened to ponies sometimes; she understood at least the basics of what sleep paralysis was. It had just never happened to her. She was awake, but unable to move, and it would pass in a few moments if she just waited. Waiting was the hard part, though; for an athlete who prided herself on strength and speed, the inability to move no matter how hard she tried was terrifying.

Just as she was staring to panic, Rainbow Dash suddenly felt a chill run through her. She held her breath and looked across the room. For just a fraction of a second, she thought she had seen something, so she looked again, to confirm that what she had seen was impossible.

From the darkness, a sickly yellow eye stared back at her.

Rainbow Dash screamed- -or would have, had she been able. No sound came out; just a low hiss. Daring Do did not even stir. The owner of the eye, though, appeared to hear it. Rainbow Dash saw the eye move, turning to reveal another eye. There were two. The eyes of a pony- -but a second ago they had been something else, as though the owner of the eyes could not focus both of them on the same spot at the same time.

To her horror, the pony began to move toward her. He- -if he was a he- -was entirely black. In the darkness, it was impossible to see him clearly; all that Rainbow Dash was able to discern was a dark silhouette.

A sound filled the room. Rainbow Dash’s eyes turned involuntarily toward the vedmak amulet sitting on her nightstand. It was humming wildly, to the point where it was in danger of falling entirely off the table. Then, suddenly, the air around it flashed with light. A dim translucent yellow sphere appeared around it, levitating it and containing it. While it was still vibrating- - now with even more force- -it did no sound escaped the magical bubble.

Rainbow Dash turned her eyes back toward the black pony- -only to find a pair of yellow eyes inches from her own. She tried to scream again, but once again nothing came out. In the darkness, it was impossible to see anything other than the eyes. Rainbow Dash could not see their owner- -but she could smell him. He strange and unpleasant, like wings that had not been washed in months, and something else. Something like metal.

The black pony moved. Rainbow Dash did not see him do it, nor did he teleport; it was as though time had just skipped. Perhaps she had fallen back to sleep for a moment, but not for very long. He was still there, in the room. Now he was standing on the other side of the bed, near Daring Do’s nighstand.

“No,” said Rainbow Dash, if only in her mind. “Stay out of there! Daring! DARING! Please wake up! PLEASE!”

Neither Daring Do nor the black pony heard her. She watched as the black pony opened the nightstand silently and withdrew the Manilla folder within. He opened it and removed its contents, then flipped through them silently, his eyes never once blinking. For the most part he seemed disinterested- -until he stopped at a page that was different from the others. A piece of vellum with a black rectangle drawn onto it.

There was a flash of magic. Strange symbols surrounded the page, but only for a fraction of a second. Then the black pony was once again across the room; the folder had been filled and returned to its exact location. Now he was moving near the table on the far side of the room. As he passed it, though, he paused. For a moment he looked at the clothing lying on it. Then, with a surprisingly swift motion, he removed something from one of Daring Do’s pockets.

“Don’t…touch…that…” whispered Rainbow Dash.

Daring Do stirred. She frowned. “No,” she muttered. “Pontrancio…please don’t let me go…”

“Interesting,” said a voice. Rainbow Dash looked up at the dark shape that was now staring at her. His voice was unpleasant. It immediately brought to mind the sort of sleazy pony who could commonly be found hanging out in a dark alley- -although it was hoarser, as though the owner had not spoken in some time. “You. Primitive. You can hear me, can’t you?”

Rainbow Dash tried to reply, but was not able to. In truth, she could not quite hear him. His voice was barely as whisper, and there was a chance he was not even speaking in any way that could be deemed remotely coherent. Rather, Rainbow Dash heard most of his meaning inside her mind rather than in her ears.

“You can. So listen closely. You are going to want to wake up. NOW. Any longer, and it will be too late.”

Rainbow Dash was surrounded by light and she shot up, screaming.

“Dash,” said Daring Do, her face clearly worried in the glow of the electric tubes she had lit. “What is it?”
“The black pony- -did you see him?”
“Black pony? There isn’t a black pony. You were dreaming.”

“But…” Rainbow Dash realized that Daring Do was dressed in her adventurer outfit.

“Get dressed,” she said.

“What time is it?”

“We’ve only been out for three hours. Then I woke up, and I suddenly realized it.”

“Realized what?”

“Caballeron. He’s after something in Wun’s collection. That’s why he was there. It’s not Exmoori, but it doesn’t matter. We have to get there before he does. Now come on!”

Chapter 14: Caballeron’s Heist

The doorbell rang. That in and of itself was unusual. Most of those in the employment of Wun Perr-Synt had never heard it used before. Few guests came unless they had been summoned, and when they did, the mistress of the house almost always seemed to be aware of them before they arrived. She would quickly dispatch servants to deal with them.

Upon hearing the delicate ringing of the bell, several perpetually angry bison began to converge on the door. Their suits were impeccably pressed, as always, and each one used twice as much cloth as it took to make a tent for a whole family in what ponies now called the Appleoosan desert. The suits were meant to hide the fact that each of the bison was built of almost solid muscle- -which, depending on who opened the door, they were preparing to use.

When they opened it, a tall pony in a delivery uniform was standing on the steps. A pile of boxes was in his hand, and the brim of his ballcap was pulled down over his eyes.

“What do you want?” said one of the bison.

The pony checked some notes. “Oi, sorry to disturb you this late, mate, but I’ve got an order here of twenty six pies.”

“We didn’t order pizza,” growled the other bison. “We don’t even like pizza. Go away.”

The pony looked up at them. His mane was red, and styled into long mutton chops. A scar ran through his left eye. He stared at them for a moment, and then shrugged. “Bloody heck,” he sighed. “Sorry to bother you, mate. Must have been another darn prank.” He began walking away, the bison watching him for any sign of a false step. “But,” he said, pausing. “For the record? They’re not pizzas. These are APPLE pies.”

The bison both gasped and their eyes widened. They turned toward each other as if inquiring if the other had heard right. At the same time, they began to sniff the air. The scent of freshly baked apples met their noses, as well as a hint of cinnamon and nutmeg. There was no questioning the identity of that scent. The delivery pony was correct: those boxes were filled with twenty six whole, fresh apple pies.

“On second thought,” said one of the bison hurriedly. “Yes. We DID order those pies! Definitely!”

“Yes. Yes! We certainly did! For the party!”

The pony raised an eyebrow. “The party that was over four hours ago?”

“Yes!” shouted one of the bison. She reached out and took the pies from the pony. “You’re late! That means we get them for free!”

Before the pony could react, the bison had pulled the pies indoors and slammed the door. There was a brief pause, and then the door cracked slightly. One of the bison stuck his nose out. “NOW you can go away!” he ordered before slamming the door again and dead-bolting it.

Rogue stared at the door for a moment, and then pulled his hat down over his eyes. He was unable to cover his smile, though.

The bison pulled the pies into the main hall and stared at them in awe.

“Look at all of these!” cried one of the pair, who was currently drooling. A third and fourth had arrived, attracted by the smell.
“Did you order these? Did ANY of us?”

“No! These pies are FREE!”

A gasp moved through the room. “Free pie? That’s the BEST kind of pie!”

“But,” said one. “Is it really moral for us to eat these pies? What if they were meant for someone else?”

“Now is not ethics time! Now is PIE time!”

One of the bison threw open box and began to eat the pie within. The others immediately joined him, devouring the pies with gusto. They ate so fast that none of them noticed an unusual taste present in the filling and crust of the mysterious pies.

A bison suddenly stood up, instinctively realizing that something was wrong. “Hey,” he said as he started to wobble. “Do you guys feel…” He yawned deeply. “Sleepy?”

The others did not have a chance to answer. Each of them suddenly fell to the floor, snoring loudly. They were completely and totally asleep.

Another group of bison poked their heads around from a side entry, their noses twitching. They had smelled the pies to, and arrived as quickly as possible. A few of them approached the pies and their unconscious comrades.

“Look!” cried one of them. “They ate those pies and passed out! Do you know what this means?!”

The bison looked at each other. Then, in unison, they answered the question. “More for us!”

They immediately dug in. After a few second, though, the sleeping powder took effect on them as well. They all yawned and fell, landing in a heap with the others.

Several minutes later, at about the time a pitch-black griffon was attaching a canister of gas to the roof intakes for the house’s ventilation system, the last of the bison guards discovered their comrades.

“Oh no,” said the eldest among them. He picked up a piece of pie filling on his hoof and sniffed it. “Hmm. Smell.”

He held it out to his comrade. She sniffed it and winced. “Sleeping powder,” she said. “They’ve been drugged.”

The other bison nodded in agreement.

“We should sound the alarm,” said the elder. “This is a very poor sign.”

“But…” said another.

“But what?”

“But they didn’t finish the pie. It’s all right there. Fresh…and warm…with sweet filling, and buttery crust…”

All of the bison that were still conscious slowly eyed the pies. There was a long moment of silence, and then all at once they descended on the pies that they knew to be contaminated. Seconds later, every bison guard in the Perr-Synt manner was sleeping peacefully, quietly, and most importantly: deeply.

Outside, Rogue had rejoined the group waiting around the corner from the house. As he stripped off his uniform, a black stallion looked to the roof of the building and spied a glint of light.

“There it is,” he said. “My brother says he’s started the gas.”

“Excellent,” said Caballeron, slightly pulling back his hood and looking up toward the building. He could not see the griffon that the black stallion was referencing, but that was essentially the point: an all-black griffon with even a half-competent ability to fly quietly would be almost entirely undetectable in the night’s sky.

Zel stepped forward so that he was even with Caballeron. He had forgone his expensive suit jacket for a garment that was essentially military fatigues, although with no flag or markings to indicate what nation it had come from. His expression was harsh as he stared at the building.

“The gas will do nothing to Perr-Synt, I’m willing to bet,” he said, “as she is as close to a pureblood unicorn as you can get.”

“I’m fully aware of the biological differences between us and unicorns,” replied Caballeron, coldly. “But I also happen to know that Ms. Perr-Synt is not home at the moment.”

“How could you possibly know? / And where exactly would she go?”

“She’s spending the night on her flagship yacht. Her sister-in law is staying at the main house. And having met her? I cannot blame her for wanting to be as far away as possible.” Caballeron shivered. “I mean, I am evil, but Spoiled Rich…ugh.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” whispered Argiopé, sliding against Caballeron’s side from the group behind them. “Such a horrible little creature. I spit in her caviar when she wasn’t looking.” She paused. “But I bet I could totally seduce her husband. He reminds me of an older you…” She ran her hoof across Caballeron’s cheek and he swatted it away.

“Right,” he said, reaching into one of his pockets. “Here,” he said, holding out several small devices that resembled the one that the black stallion- -and his sibling, although he could not be immediately seen- -were wearing. Caballeron picked up one and put it in his ear, as did Argiopé and several of the other henchponies. Zel, however, hesitated.

“Surely forgoing this would not be tragic?” he sighed. “It is well known that Zebras are adverse to all forms of magic.”

“And I’m not paying you to be adverse! Put it on!”

Zel glared, but he knew the value of good customer service. He put on the earpiece, sulking while he did so.

“Right,” sighed Caballeron. He turned to the group behind him. “You, you, and you. You’re lookouts, plus the griffon. If you see anything- -ANYTHING- -I want to know!”

The hired muscle looked at Caballeron, and then at Zel.

“Well?” cried Zel, though quietly enough to not cause a disturbance. “You had best do what he’s saying!/ After all, he’s the one who’s PAYING!”

The henchponies nodded. One of them approached Caballeron. “And if we see anypony?”

“I already told you. TELL. ME.”

“Yeah, but…I mean, how hard do you want us to beat them?”

“I don’t care what you do. Just make sure we don’t have unexpected guests!” He snapped at the others. “You all! Vamos!”

The group moved forward silently. There were several of them, and they moved quickly. A gathering of ponies in dark clothing and camouflage would normally have raised great suspicion, had nature not inadvertently conspired in their favor. The night itself was dark, with few stars visible in the cloudy sky; additionally, the chill air had caused fog to flow in from the bay, as was common this time of year. Caballeron had counted on both of those things in his plan, but he knew that they needed to move quickly.

This was not a matter of invading some ancient and abandoned temple where he could take his time: this was an area where too much attention would result in guards being called, and in all likelihood many years in a Singaponian prison. Because of this, Caballeron approached the whole operation with some level of disgust. He was a dignified individual, not a common thief- -but the thought of countless heaps of golden bits, an elegant beach house that would easily rival the home of Wun Perr-Synt herself, and a horde of comely zebras kept him focused.

They entered the front gate, which was already open from Rogue having broken the lock on his way out.

“Boss,” said Rogue, walking up to the front. “You sure about this?”

“I will be if you could kindly SHUT UP,” hissed Caballeron. He was counting the seconds. Assuming that the griffon had done his job properly, the mansion would now be flooded with sleeping gas. As Zel had surmised, it was not even close to enough to affect a semi-pureblood unicorn like Perr-Synt, nor would it even make a creature as large as a bison even slightly woozy. Fortunately, neither of those would be a problem. Instead, the it was only a matter of counting seconds until the ponies in the house- -including Spoiled Rich and tacky brother- -were deep enough under to go ahead with the operation.

“Right,” said Caballeron, deciding that the time was right. “Now we just need- -”

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught one of Zel’s mercenaries- -the female Pegasus he had seen on the first meeting- -about to step off the cobblestone path and into the gardens beyond. Argiopé was watching, heavily amused and anticipating the events that she was sure was about to happen.

Caballeron, though, had far more of a heart than his lieutenant- -at least when it came to preserving resources necessary to complete his mission. He pushed past several ponies and tacked the Pegasus mare to the ground before she could touch the grass.

“Hey!” she cried. “What do you think- -HMMFF!” Caballeron had put his hoof over her mouth and silenced her with practiced excellence. He quickly turned toward Zel. “Tell me, zebra, when was it that you were going to tell me that you hire morons?!”

Zel shrugged. “Some of them are a little slow/ but hey, I have to keep costs low.”

Caballeron let the mare up. She brushed herself off and glared at him. “Touch me again like that and I’ll bite you next time! I don’t get paid for that kind of business!”

“I just saved your life!” hissed Caballeron. He gestured out at the garden and the tall cypress trees that lined the path. “Do you have any idea what those are?!”

The Pegasus looked and squinted. “Trees. They’re trees you freak.”

“Those are Crocodilleran cypress trees!”

“Is that supposed to mean something?” The Pegsus looked to her comrades, but began to grow concerned when she saw just how pale Zel had become and how he took several large steps back from the edge of the cobblestone path.

“It would if you had even the slightest education! Wun Perr-Synt is a collector of exquisite taste and extravagant means! Did you expect her to plant simple, ordinary trees?”

“I…yes…?”

Caballeron sighed. He drew a small piece of vegetarian jerky from his jacket and tossed it toward the trees. The others watched it go, and all heard the strange whistling as a branch suddenly slashed through the air, plucking the morsel out of the air. The tree then rustled, even though the fog around it was still and the night devoid of even the slightest wind.

The Pegasus had grown pale. Caballeron smiled, momentarily savoring the fact that he was, of course, right. “The Crocodilleran cypress is carnivorous. Extremely so. A single tree can digest up to five ponies per night. And as you can see, Perr-Synt has far more than one tree…”

Several more trees swished gently in the lack of breeze. The rest of the group took a substantial step back.

“Zel,” said Caballeron. “I am paying you a substantial amount. Deal with this.”

Zel laughed awkwardly. “Well, if there are pony-eating trees out there/ I think I have just the mare.” He waved to the crowd and an earth-pony stepped forward. Caballeron was almost immediately overwhelmed with the scent of incense and a rather skunky smell that he did not recognize.

The mare laughed slowly. “Hey, man,” she said.

“Now,” said Zel. “If you would please/ deal with these trees?”

She turned slowly, and then smiled. “Yeah, boss man. I can totally do that…”

Rogue leaned in toward Caballeron. “What the hay is a ‘man’?”

The earth-mare then promptly stepped off the path and onto the grass. Several of the ponies in the rest of the group gasped, and the trees rustled violently. The mare, however, just looked up at the trees and smiled.

“Aw man,” she chuckled. “You guys are righteous specimens. That foliage, it’s so…green. And…leafy. Like…leaves…”

Caballeron put his hoof to his head. The mission had already started and one of the crew was about to get eaten. This, of course, was the reason he had hired local help instead of using his own loyal forces- -but he had eaten a substantial amount of food at the party, and did not much want to witness what was about to happen.

The trees lunged, but the earth-mare, despite her demeaner, suddenly drew something from her bag. She held it over her head and the trees immediately stopped in awe. Caballeron looked up, expecting some sort of strange charm or amulet. Instead, she was holding a stick of butter.

“Oh, man...you like that, don’t you?” She waved the butter, causing the trees to move along with it, swaying at her motion. “I like it to. Like, sometimes, I crush up a bunch of barbecue potato chips, and then I, like, roll a stick of butter in it…oh man, now I’m hungry again.”

“Miss,” said Caballeron. “If I might ask: what in the name of CELESTIA’S EXPENSIVE RUMP ARE YOU DOING?!”

“It’s the bubber, man,” she said. She actually used the word “bubber”, much to Caballeron’s confusion. “Everypony’s got to, like, enjoy life, right? Even trees too. Trees have rights, you know. Wants, needs…they’ve got, like souls, and they love us. And bubber.”

With one swift motion she unwrapped the stick of butter and threw it to her right. The ground shook as the near-silence of the night was rent by the sound of trees uprooting themselves. Within seconds, the forest had pulled itself from the ground and chased down the butter, pulling themselves along with their roots.

“They really like this stuff,” said the pony, pulling out another stick and eating half of it while she was waiting. “Come on, dudes and dudettes. Like, follow me.”

She started walking, throwing butter to either side to distract the trees- -although generally not without taking a substantial bite out of it herself.

“We need to go around the rear of the mansion, on the western side,” said Caballeron as he followed her.

“Righteous, man. West is, like, significant to my aura right now.”

They continued to follow the earth-mare until she suddenly held out a hoof. Caballeron inhaled sharply.

“Please tell me you didn’t run out of bubber.”

Argiopé snorted. “You said bubber!”

“No, man, I never run out of bubber. Unless, like, I eat all of it. No. It’s that.” The mare pointed at an especially large evergreen tree that was quite clearly not a cypress. Its long branches were slowly extending, sweeping out over the ground and blocking the path.

“What is it? I’m not familiar with that sort of tree.”

“That’s a smashing yew,” said the earth-mare, almost in awe.

“Why’s it called that?” asked Rogue.

“Because, like, it smashes you.”

“Oh.”

“But, like, these guys are almost extinct. Like, ponies cut them all down to make bows.” A tear came to the mare’s eye. “Like, weapons of war, man. Out of beautiful trees.”

“We can discuss environmentalism later,” said Caballeron. “Give it some butter.”

“No, man. Like, are you listening? It’s a yew. Yews don’t like butter.”

“Then how can we pass it?”

The mare thought for a moment. “Like, it’s so sad. He might even be the last, and he’s angry and lonely. Like, my heart is breaking, man.” Sniffling, she stepped forward.

“No!” cried Zel, still being relatively quiet. “Don’t go near it! OH SH- -”

The earth-mare stepped into the tree and, to everypony’s surprise, gave it a hug. The branches moved to strike her at first, but then suddenly coiled around her and returned the gesture. In the process, the mare disappeared into the foliage.

“Is she…gone?”

“I can’t believe she just did that,” giggled Argiopé.

“I think she’ll be fine,” sighed Zel. “But it’s better this way; she’s not good on the front line.”

Caballeron sighed. “Right,” he said. “The path is clear. Withers?”

A white earth-stallion with a suit collar stepped out of the crowd. “What is it, boss?”

“You take the security system. Take the idiot with you for cover.”

“Hey!” grunted the female Pegasus.

“Right,” said Withers. Even though it was the middle of the night, he slid a large pair of aviator sunglasses over his face. “Let’s do this.”

“And don’t get near the koi pond!” called Caballeron as the pair scurried toward the nearest control box. “There’s supposedly a zugel in it!”

The remained of the group moved very quickly away from the pond. Only Argiopé remaind behind, eying the small pond suspiciously.

“Do you mean ‘zugel’ as in my language for ‘reins’ or ‘zugel’ as in a mass of slippery, dripping, angry tentacles?” She paused. “Because either way, I can’t help but feel a little…interested.”

“Argiopé!”

“Yes, herr doctor!” She said, turning around and bounding after Caballeron. “You’re right! We should save the reins for celebrating later!”

Despite wearing sunglasses and walking through a foggy semi-forest in the middle of a cloudy night, Withers was surprisingly quick. The Pegasus with him almost had trouble keeping up; it was obvious that he had studied the maps extensively in advance.

In less than a minute he reached a large shed that was linked to the foundation of the house that sat at the nexus of a number of conduits and control lines. The Pegaus quickly tried the door, only to find that it was- -of course- -locked.

“I hope you know how to pick locks,” she sighed. She tapped at the heavy door. “Because there’s no way I’m going to be able to kick this down.”

“I can pick locks,” replied Withers, “but I don’t have to. Move.”

The Pegasus was pushed back, and through the dim light of the cloud-obscured moon she was able to see him attaching what looked like thin pencils to the hinges of the door.

She was about to ask what was going on when the silence of the night was rent by the sudden sound of small explosions. The Pegasus barely managed to prevent herself from screaming or in surprise, but Withers did not even move. The light of the blast simply reflected off his sunglasses.

“Boom,” he said. “Sanctified.”

He reached out and pulled the now listing door open. It twisted and nearly fell out of its frame entirely, leaving a gap more than large enough for a pony to enter.

“Darn it!” whispered the Pegasus, now acutely aware of the silence that surrounded them. “Warn me if you’re going to use explosives!”

“No.”

The shed contained a number of utilities, but Withers moved directly to the rear where a large panel was placed. With one swift motion he pulled it off and stared into the mass of cables and wires inside. Then, without a word, he shoved himself into the hole almost up to his waist and began reconnecting various lines.

“Um…wouldn’t that be easier if you, you know, took your sun glasses off?”

“The glasses stay on.”

“Any particular reason?”

“Because they make me look really cool.”

“Yeah. And you’ll be able to protect your eyes when you look at Celestia’s plump rump. You know. When she’s visiting the central garrison and walks past our tiny dungeon window. After YOU get us caught!”

“Celestia is a myth. She was made up by priests to gain control of the gullible masses.”

The Pegasus’s jaw dropped. “You’re kidding, right?”

“You should probably be quiet. I’m working.”

The Pegasus glared at him, but he did not notice. He was too busy reconnecting various lines. Several minutes seemed to pass and he emerged again, this time with a large crystal linked to several wires. Where he had gotten the crystal, the Pegasus did not ask. She did not especially care.

Withers then sat down and tapped his earpiece. “Boss. It’s done. I’m busting it open…now.”

He tapped one of the facets of the crystal and the glow within it shifted. Something sparked inside the panel, causing the Pegasus mare to jump even as Withers did not flinch, as though high-voltage discharge were a normal and fully reasonable part of having partially rewired something.

“Excellent,” replied Caballeron. “We’re going in. Keep an eye on where we are. If we are found- -”

“Staring at Celestia’s rump. I know. I’m already on it.”

Withers set the crystal on the floor, linking it to a large cable that was dripping a luminescent blue fluid that would quickly evaporate as it fell. He linked it to the crystal, and the system hummed with magic. An image was displayed over it, rendered as a magical hologram that displayed code written in Singaponeian.

“Can you read this?” said Withers.

“Of course I can…wait. You can’t?”

“No.”

“But- -I have no idea what any of this means!”

Withers shrugged. “If you see something that looks bad, let me know.”

“You know,” said Caballeron, his voice heavy and dark even through the earpieces. “You do know that your channel is still open, don’t you?”

“Yes,” replied Withers. “I do.”

With the outer doors open, Caballeron was able to lead his group into the complex itself. The side entrance led into a system of impeccably neat but almost industrial looking hallways. At this point, the black stallion took the lead. He had been the one assigned to inspect the ground floor during the party; from what Caballeron gathered, his special talent involved stealth. Whether or not that was true was debatable, as his cutie mark- -which was entirely black- -was invisible against his flank.

“Here,” said the black stallion, gesturing toward a door. “These are the stairs.”

“Security is down,” said Caballeron. “Excellent.” He turned to Rogue. “You. Go to the front.”

“Right, boss. Oi!” Rogue turned to the rest of the group and pointed at two of the largest, most gnarled earth-ponies present. “You and you! On me!”

The two obeyed and joined him as he kicked open the door. They then plowed forward, the whole while prepared to positively ruin somepony’s day if they found somepony inside who was still conscious.

They proceeded down- -and down- -and down. Rogue began to become nervous.

“Boss,” he said. “How deep does this thing go?”

“Deep,” replied Caballeron. “As I’m sure you’ve realized, Wun Perr-Synt spares no expense. Especially when dealing with her precious collection. I should know. Her purchases fund your salaries.”

“Then…is it wrong that we’re trying to steal from her?”

“I prefer to think of it as testing her security expenditures,” laughed Caballeron, even though Rogue had touched on exactly what felt as though it was eating at his gut. “Besides. If this works? We’ll never need to make a purchase from her again.”

“You certainly let your villainy show,” chuckled Zel. “But don’t forget to pay those who you owe.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, although for the record, you don’t get a bent bit more than I listed in your contract.”

“It seems to me/we’ll just have to see.”

Caballeron muttered under his breath, but quickly realized that he had bigger problems than dealing with the mercenary. They had reached the bottom of the stairs, which opened into an enormous square room with a floor cut from enormous granite tiles. It was dotted with large arching columns, and at the base of several were the display cases from the party earlier. The specimens were being moved back into storage.

It also became apparent that the specimens were not alone. Several heavily armored workers immediately rushed Rogue and his pair of minions. They had been waiting.

Rogue took a swing at a svelte mare. His left hook was quite good, but she dodged it easily, grabbing his hoof and flipping him backward into a unicorn. The unicorn’s horn ignited, producing a detonation that sent Rogue flying into one of the other members of the earth-pony vanguard.

The unicorn then turned his focus to Caballeron, quickly summoning a paralysis spell. Caballeron remained stationary as the thin tattooed unicorn beside him generated a complex but highly unstable shield spell. The impact of the magic resulted in a feedback wave that knocked down the remaining earth-pony as well as several other members of the hired muscle.

“Herr doktor,” said Argiopé, her eyes narrowing as she interposed herself between her master and them. “Should I break them?”

Zell put his hoof on her shoulder, causing her to recoil with a hiss.

“You’ll just get sweaty and wheeze,” he said. “Please, stand back as I do this with ease.”

Before anypony could stop him- -not that any wanted to- -Zel leapt forward, using Rogues back as a stepping stone as he leapt into the fray. A Pegasus was the first to see him; she flew up suddenly, prepared to strike. She never go the chance; Zel executed a graceful flip and kicked her in the chin, immediately knocking her out of the air. When he landed, he grasped her unconscious body and threw it into one of her comrades, knocking him back.

The same earth-pony that had taken down Rogue rushed him, but Zel blocked, parrying her to the side and striking her in the armpit where she had no armor. The pony cried out as one of her legs went numb, and she tilted, giving Zel the chance he needed to trip her.

Another charged from behind, expecting to take him by surprise. He did not succeed. Zel whirled around and in doing so produced a short spear with a long blade. Upon seeing this, the attacking pony tried to dodge but was too slow. Zel slid the spear between his back and armor, severing the clasps that held it together. The chest plate of the armor dropped to the pony’s knees, tripping him and causing him to fall. He struck his head and pinned his quarter-numb comrade with his girth.

That left only the unicorn, whose horn ignited with an angry red glow. He fired a spell that resembled something like a net; it was intended to trap and incapacitate an opponent. Zel twirled, swinging his spear and reciting a complex series of couplets in his own language. When the spell struck him, the blade of his spear ignited and slashed through the unicorn’s spell.

With a twist and a step, the blade was against the unicorn’s face. The unicorn dropped to his knees, defeated.

“Please,” he begged. “I have children.”

“Do you think me that cruel?” cried Zel, clearly insulted. “Even I would not break that sacred rule!”

In a flash, he twisted his spear around and struck the unicorn in the horn with the haft. The unicorn’s eyes widened and his body twitched slightly as he fell to the side. He had been rendered partially unconscious and temporarily unable to cast spells.

Zel took a deep breath and tapped the wooden end of his spear against the floor, leaning on it as he smiled to his crew. They broke out into cheers and applause.

Rogue, now slightly bruised, had managed to stand up and was staring wide-eyed. “Bloody heck, mate! Where did you learn to do all that?!”

Zel chuckled. “You grow up in a terrible rush/when you have to live in some dangerous bush.”

The other ponies stepped forward, helping up their friends. The two earth-ponies who had been helping Rogue were both slightly injured, but not to an extent where they could not walk. Most of the damage was in fact to their pride.

“Rogue,” ordered Caballeron. He pointed to the guards on the ground. “Tie them up! Thoroughly. I trust you’ve been practicing knots, as I’ve recommended?”

Rogue smiled and produced a rope. “Trust me, boss. I’ll tie ‘em with knots so tight, even Daring Do wouldn’t be able to get free!”

“You said that the last time two. And the fourteen before that. And take this.” Caballeron withdrew a small greenish-silver metal ring from his pocket. “Put this on the unicorn. It’s dimeritium.”

“Dimeritium?” said the black stallion, who appeared to have come from nowhere and seemed oddly intrigued. “That ring costs more than the fee for our services.”

Zel glared at Caballeron. Caballeron sighed and shrugged. “It was a gift,” he said. He did not go further to state who it had come from, as even he did not actually know their identity. Which was yet another thing that seemed to be helping with his development of a peptic ulcer.

The mercenaries seemed to accept that answer, but only begrudgingly. Which was acceptable, as they had so far largely done their part. Only a few of them would be needed beyond this point.

Caballeron quickly ordered the toughest among them to fan out through the enormous room, and watched them depart under the glow of fluorescent tubes. It was apparent that the gas had not reached the lower levels in a high enough concentration, so their task was to find any more guards that there might be, as well as to prevent anypony who might drop by uninvited. Caballeron had been in this business too long to think that nopony would. There was always one- -and her appearances tended to be as reliable as they were infuriating.

Only a small group remained with him. Argiopé, as always, was at his side, as well as Rogue on the other, although the latter was standing much closer to Zel, who had recently won his respect. Other members of Zel’s group included the tattooed unicorn, the black stallion, and the female minotaur, who was carrying a large metal object on her back.

The room was tapered on one end, creating a broad funnel-like shape that led to a single large metal door. It seemed to be large enough to be almost blast proof.

“Withers,” said Caballeron. “Can you get it open?”

“No.”

“Herr doktor, look!” Argiopé pointed. There was a keypad next to it with deep-set mechanical keys. A brass plaque had been placed over it. Rogue leaned close and shakily read the embossed text.

“To ride from the waves/at times calm, at times stormy/So fair, yet fate grim.”

Zel grimaced. “Poetry like that is like sucking a lime/ Have ponies completely lost the ability to rhyme?”

“It’s a riddle,” said Caballeron. He muttered under his breath. “I don’t know what it means, though. I need more time…”

Zel laughed. “I can save your mind a bit of strain/ because the solution to problems is not always with your brain.” He looked over his shoulder and nodded to the minotaur, who smiled and cracked her fingers.

“Oh yeah!” she cried, stretching. “Brass Knuckles knows EXACTLY how to solve this poem!”

She flexed in several poses before approaching the door. Then, without a moment’s hesitation, she pushed her fingers into the groove that ran down the center of it.

The minotaur grunted vigorously. Every muscle on her enormous arms suddenly became visible as she pulled hard, and several large veins appeared on her neck. Something inside the walls began to crunch and strain, and a hydraulic line suddenly burst, partially showering the tattooed unicorn with oil.

“Oi! Watch it, Brass!”

Brass Knuckles did not listen. With a roar of power, she forced the door open completely. She then turned her head toward Zel, who nodded and jumped through the gap. Caballeron and Argiopé went through next, followed by the remainder of the group. Finally, Brass Knuckles stepped through the door and releasted it. The door shuddered and slammed shut before recoiling slightly, leaving a three-inch wide gap between its two halves. It had been thoroughly damaged, and now stood partly ajar as though in defeat.

“Whoo!” breathed the minotaur, flexing again. “YEAH! That’s how we do it!”

Zel smiled. “As my mother used to say, you can hardly go wrong/ when you know someone so very strong.”

“Let us hope you have speed to match your strength,” sighed Caballeron. He put his hoof to his earpiece. “Withers.”

“Yes. I am.”

“Stop talking back and do your job.”

“I am. Keep walking forward. Pass three doors and take a left.” Caballeron did as he was told, moving forward at a fast-paced walk. The others followed him. “Right,” continued Withers, clearly distracted by something. Over the link, Caballeron could hear a female voice reading to him. “I’ve disabled the camera systems and passive infrared system. I’m working on the piezo tiles.”

“Withers, don’t try to sound smart. It doesn’t suit a henchpony.”

“But I am smart. I mean the tiles. The floor senses contact. I can only open the main path, and it’s designed to detect ponies by hoofsteps.”

Zel snorted, annoyed. “So we’re pretty much done/unless we can walk exactly like Wun?”

“No. But having less of you on the floor would help.”

Caballeron looked behind him. None of the remaining group were Pegasi.

“Argiopé.”

Argiopé frowned but did as she was commanded, spreading her wings and taking flight. “None of you are permitted to stared at my flank as I pass,” she growled. Then, going over Caballeron, she ran her hoof gently over her spine. “Except you. You can look as long as you want. And as HARD as you want…”

“Oxford, I know your skills well/and I am aware of a certain spell.”

The tattooed unicorn nodded and his horn ignited with blue light. A large translucent rectangle appeared near him, hovering off the ground. He stepped onto it and it began to glide gracefully.

“The minotaur stays here,” said Caballeron.

“What? No!” retorted Brass Knuckles. “What if there’s someone who needs to get PUNCHED?!”

“There won’t be,” snapped Caballeron.

“Brass, don’t let your attitude become poor/ it is better if you stay to guard the door.”

Brass Knuckles frowned, but at the order from her employer- -Zel, not Caballeron- -she nodded and hefted the metallic load on her back. “Right, sarge. But if anypony gets through, I’m gonna punch them. HARD.”

“Go ahead and hit!/I’m rather counting on it.”

The remainder of the group went on without the minotaur.

“Right. Then two doors and left,” said Withers, followed by urgent yelling. “I mean one door and left. The other one, well…messy, boss.”

“Don’t mess this up, Withers,” growled Rogue.

“I never mess up. Go left now.”

They did, and suddenly the earpieces began to screech with static. Caballeron winced. “Withers? Withers, what’s happening?”

“He probably got distracted by something shiny.” Argiopé landed and continued by walking, admiring how this particular path had become less industrial and more elegant. It was still not in line with what her personal preferences- -not nearly so- -but she found herself in a warmly lit architectural arcade with a set of graceful square columns on either side. “Such horrid taste…”

Suddenly, she felt a hoof pull her backward roughly. Argiopé turned sharply, opening her mouth as wide as it went to reveal her several rows of needle-like teeth. She hissed, causing the tattooed unicorn to cry out in fright and jump back. Caballeron smiled, as did Rogue and Zel, all of whom knew what to expect from Argiopé’s dentition. The black stallion just stared unblinkingly. He likely did not know, but he also seemed not to care.

“Don’t touch me!” hissed Argiopé. “YOU are not ALLOWED to touch me! Do it again and I will bite your horn OFF!”

Oxford’s surprise suddenly collapsed into anger. “I just saved your life!”

“You put your filthy little unicoirn hooves on my perfect body! If the doktor were not watching- -”

“Oxford is correct, I have to say,” interrupted Zel. “Because one more step and you would have had a VERY bad day! Just use your sense of smell/and you’ll surely be able to tell.”

Argiopé sniffed. Her blue-green eyes narrowed. “Ozone.”

“Magic,” sighed Caballeron. “You,” he said, addressing the unicorn. “Do you know how to deal with this?”

“Five years at university, I certainly ought to! What do I look like, some limp-horned layabout?” He turned his head toward the arcade hallway. His horn ignited, and immediately the whole room began to resonate unpleasantly. Oxford winced.

“As I thought,” he said. “This is some nasty work. You really would have regretted that step, love.”

“Don’t call me ‘love’. Or I will break you. Whips will be involved.”

“Oh, feisty! You’d be a catch if it weren’t for those freaky teeth.”

“The doktor enjoys my teeth quite thoroughly.”

“And I am paying neither of you to talk,” snapped Caballeron. “Or do I need to go over there and disassemble the spell myself? Or perhaps send the zebra?”

“I’m working on it! This was professional work. It’ll take a minute.”

“I don’t think we have a minute,” said Rogue, his voice shaking. “Boss, the door!”

Caballeron turned around to see that the door they had passed through had inexplicably vanished, replaced with a blank, empty wall.

“What…” His innards tightened as he suddenly understood that the spell had been triggered the moment they entered. “Unicorn, hurry! There isn’t much time!”

“I can’t ‘hurry’! I’m deconstructing preset causality lines rune by rune, I can’t go any faster without setting it off!”

“And what happens if that happened?” asked the black stallion. He sounded more amused than frightened.

“Soup.”

Argiopé shivered slightly. She hated soup.

Caballeron turned back toward the door, as did Rogue. Rogue immediately cried out in confusion, but Caballeron did not. He knew exactly what he would see. That the wall where the door had been was closer, and that the corridor that opened into the arcade was growing tighter. Whereas seconds earlier Argiopé could easily have flown above them, the ceiling was now barely tall enough for Oxford to stand without bending over.

“It’s shrinking!” cried Rogue. He pushed past the black stallion and toward the opening. “We have to get out of here!”

“NO!” cried Oxford, pushing Rogue back with a flash of magic. “It’s trying to trick you! If you go forward before the proximity spell goes down, we’re all done!”

“Are you bloody kidding me?! We’re going to get MASHED!”

“Only if you keep distracting me! I’m not going back to prison. I’m not eating any more rock-soup! Trust me, I know what I’m doing!”

Zel sighed, and he drew his spear. Rather than using it, though, he pointed it downward and sat down, closing his eyes and apparently meditating as he held the weapon. The walls had grown even closer, even though it was not apparent that they were moving. Rogue was now pushed against the black stallion, and Argiopé- -much to her pleasure- -pushed against Caballeron’s firm, well-muscled body.

“Now, I don’t mean to rush you,” said Caballeron, calmly. “But, if it is within your ability, I WOULD PREFER NOT TO MEET MY END WAITING FOR YOUR ILL-TRAINED RUMP TO FIGURE OUT A SIMPLE SPELL!”

“It’s not counterbalanced,” gasped Oxford. “I can’t- -this will take too long! I- -I can’t get it open, not without a support parameter- -”

The walls squeezed even tighter, and the blue flickered and went out around Oxford’s horn. The instant it did, though, a yellow spark ignited in the center of the arcade corridor. The air seemed to detonate and crack with a hideous sound, and the entire group was thrown backward several meters into the large door that they had entered through.

Caballeron moaned, as did Argiopé, who had landed in a rather compromising position on top of him. Upon seeing this Caballeron shoved her off and over to Rogue before standing up. “What in the name of Celestia’s golden flank were you trying to do?!” he screamed.

“Please relax,” said Zel, standing up. “He did succeed, before we got the axe.”

Oxford laughed, but then cleared his throat. “That didn’t go the way I expected.”

“Really,” growled Caballeron.

“No. The sequential process failed, but when it did it must have somehow triggered a feedback surge. It severed the unbalanced connections…the processing for that would have taken even me over a year to work out! The chances of that happening at random are- -”

“One in five hundred million six hundred thousand two hundred eighty three,” said Withers, sounding bored.

Oxford blinked. “You- -you calculated that in your head?”

“No,” sighed Rogue. “He’s making it up and hoping you don’t check his math.”

Zel laughed vigorously but nervously. “We ought to run and hide/if that’s who we have as a guide!”

“The system’s starting to react,” said Withers. “You need to keep moving.”

Caballeron brushed himself off. “No more mistakes.”

“Agreed,” said Rogue, panting. As the largest, he had been the most severely affected by the tightening of the room. “I don’t know if my heart can take it.”

Chapter 15: The Vaults of Wun Perr-Synt

“Stop.”

When Withers spoke, the rest of the group did not need to be told twice. They stopped in their tracks, standing at the front of a large square room with a high ceiling. It had four openings but no doors, each sitting in the center of the span of each wall.

“What is it?” asked Caballeron, now sounding increasingly annoyed. He compulsively checked his watch, only to remember that it was not real. The more time they spent in this hole, the more time they were at risk. “What now?”

“Do any of you have any flour?”

“Why in the name of golden bits would we have- -”

“I think I know what he’s thinking/and the ideas that he’s linking,” said Zel. The zebra reached into one of his pockets and removed a pile of exceedingly fine, glittering dust. He held it one of his hooves and blew it into the room in front of them. Almost as soon as it left his possession and the air carried it throughout the space before them, numerous fine blue beams became visible forming a network throughout the room.

“Lasers,” groaned Caballeron. “Of course there would be lasers. Because one can hardly expect class in these modern security systems. You would never see this in a true mausoleum!”

“That’s not true,” noted Rogue. “Remember, in the Abbey of the Golden Crystal? The one where Rosebud got his flank stuck in the- -”

“NEVER IN A TRUE MAUSOLEUM!”

“I can’t shut them down,” said Withers. “And I can’t get the controls on your side to run without setting everything off. You’ll have to shut it from the far side.”

Caballeron glared at the lasers, and then turned sharply. “Argiopé! You know what to do!”

“Of course I do.” Argiopé stepped out from behind the other ponies. For a moment, she looked almost like a twin to the black stallion. She was herself a pure-black earth-mare, save for an orange blaze in the center of her face and her short-cropped white mane. In addition, she was wearing an exceedingly tight catsuit that left nothing about her pony figure to the imagination.

“What are you wearing?” groaned Caballeron. “Argiopé, we spoke about this in advance. In situations requiring- -wait, what are you- -stop! STOP! I order you to STOP!”

Argiopé did not listen. With a single graceful movement, she reared on her hind legs and flipped into the field of lasers. Her grace did not cease as she twisted and turned several more times, moving amongst the beams with ease and speed that no normal pony would be able to achieve. She moved as though she were dancing, with each step planned both to evade the beams and to demonstrate that she was, in fact, wearing skin-tight clothing. Not once did she break her step, and not once did she cross a beam- -although she looked back several times to see that every stallion save for two was staring wide-eyed at her and nearly drooling. That normally would have been enough- -but the closest Argiopé came to slipping came when she saw Caballeron’s face. He was glaring at her, not with a look of attraction or enumeration. He was furious.

When Argiopé saw his expression, she partially lost her balance. With a soft cry, she fell, only managing to catch herself when her face was mere millimeters from one of the beams. She was so close that she could see the dust moving in its path, oscillating as she breathed through it.

Argiopé closed her eyes and regained her composure, but it was too late. Yes, the beams had not been tripped- -but she had failed. The whole point of this was to be impressive, and the only pony she wanted to impress was displeased by the whole affair.

After a moment, she resumed her routine, although this time with less flair and joy. In seconds she reached the other side. Breathing hard, she pressed the control button and watched as the beams flickered and went out.

The other ponies crossed, with Caballeron leading.

“Herr doktor,” she said. “I thought you would like to see- -”

Her sentence was interrupted by a loud snap as her head was knocked to the side by Caballeron’s hoof. Argiopé stared aghast, unable to comprehend what had just happened.

“You…you hit me,” she whispered, tears welling in her eyes.

“I should do MUCH more than slapping you!” roared Caballeron. “That show, was it worth it? Was it worth jeopardizing the entire mission? My work, my CONTRACTS? Because you wanted to SHOW OFF?!”

“I- -I just wanted- -”

Caballeron raised his hoof again and Argiopé recoiled and cried out.

“Boss!” exclaimed Rogue, grabbing Caballeron’s hoof. “Boss, please. That isn’t gonna help anything.”

Caballeron glared at him, but did lower his hoof. He glowered one last time at Argiopé, and then pushed past her.

“You’re too kind, dear bloke,” sighed Zel, only loud enough so that Rogue and Argiopé could hear. “One more inch and my spear would have given him a poke.”

Rogue just sighed. “Argiopé. Are you okay?”

Tears were flowing from her eyes, and a red mark was forming on her face. “Just leave me alone,” she hissed as she turned away.

Some voices came over the intercom. “Um, yes, I’ll tell them,” he said, his voice sounding as though he was speaking some distance from the microphone of his earpiece. “No, no it’s not that important. They’ll be fine.” His voice stabilized at normal volume. “Yeah. About that. Whatever you do, don’t touch the lasers, okay? Turns out they’re not detectors. They’re industrial cutting beams.”

Argiopé immediately became immensely pale as she stumbled.

“Really,” grumbled Caballeron. “A shame, then. We were nearly rid of our least-valuable employee. Or perhaps second least-valuable. Is there anything else you neglected to mention, Withers?”

There was a long silence. “Yeah,” he said. “I just got word from the griffon. We have company.”

“Police?” asked Rogue.

“No. Guess who.”

Caballeron stamped his hoof in rage. Then, suddenly, he turned on his heal and faced Argiopé. He was smiling. “Excellent,” he said. “Argiopé, it looks like you will have a chance at redemption.”

“I’d be glad to wipe the floor with her stupid fluffy wings.”

“No. Out of the question. She CANNOT know we’re here. Turn her away- -but without letting her know anything is amiss.”

“But I could take her, hear and now- -”

“Fine. Then I will send that one in your place.” Caballaron pointed toward the black stallion, who seemed somewhat surprised.

“NO!” cried Argiopé. “No! I will do as you wish, herr doktor! I will make you proud!” She took a breath and regained her composure, allowing a seductive smile to cross her face. “I will prove that I am worthy of your love.”

Daring Do pressed her hoof against the gate. It slid open without creaking even slightly.

“The gate is open,” she said, turning her eyes to the thick fog that surrounded her and Rainbow Dash. “I don’t like this.”

Rainbow Dash did not seem to like it either. She kept looking around. “I don’t see anypony. But all this fog…”

“No. There’s nopony out there.”

“How do you know?”

“Experience.”

Daring Do entered the complex, passing under the gate and past the thick walls that surrounded the mansion. A sound suddenly distracted her, and she turned suddenly to see that the exterior wall was covered in crows. They had not been there a minute ago- -or they were perhaps waiting in complete and total silence. Now they made their presence known, but then went back to watching quietly. Daring Do’s heart sank, but she did not know why.

“So,” said Rainbow Dash. “Do you want to try the door? I mean, she didn’t exactly seem like the kind of pony who likes being woken up late at night.”

“She sleeps surprisingly little,” said Daring Do. “But yeah. I guess the door is…”

She trailed off, looking at the forest to her left. Rainbow Dash looked where she was looking, but could not see much through the fog.

“What is it?”

“Look at the trees,” she said. “They’re parted.”

“So?”

“They weren’t like that last time we were here.”

Rainbow Dash laughed. “So, what? They just got up and moved?” Daring Do gave Rainbow Dash a look that conveyed that she was being completely and utterly serious. Rainbow Dash’s humor vanished almost instantly. “You’re…you’re kidding.”

“Look,” said Daring Do, pointing to the space near the trees. “Tracks. Faded, because the ground’s hard, but the grass is all pressed down. And one of them was carrying something heavy. One of them who…walked on two hooves?”

Rainbow Dash shrugged.

“Right,” continued Daring Do. “I say we follow these. But not on foot. We need to fly. At least three yards above the trees.”

“Sure. I can do that. But why?”

“Because I have a bad feeling about those trees. And I’m fresh out of bubber.”

“Of what?”

“Never mind. Just stay high and keep your eyes focused. It’s going to be tough to see in the fog.”

“Trust me, I can see. Zero-visibility navigation is part of Wonderbolts training.”

They took to the dark sky, moving over the rustling trees. The rustling confirmed what Daring Do had already suspected. There was no wind, and yet the trees were moving.

Passing over a strange and abnormally large yew tree, Daring Do suddenly called out.

“There!” she said, pointing at an access door on the foundation level of the mansion. Her and Rainbow Dash- -still being careful to avoid the trees- -descended to the ground. The hoofprints all seemed to lead toward the door.

“Sompeony came here.”

“A lot of someponies,” noted Rainbow Dash. “You think Caballeron came this way?”

“I’m not sure. It’s hard to tell. The grass isn’t normal.” Daring Do shook her head and pushed on the door. It swung open easily. “Huh,” she said, quietly. “That’s not a good sign.”

They entered. Daring Do had not been in this part of the mansion in almost four decades, and it had changed substantially. Still, navigation was not especially difficult.

“Wow,” said Rainbow Dash as they eventually started to descend the stairs leading down level after level. “How deep does this place go?”

“Very. Wun bought out the mineral rights for this place, as well as to the rights to half the city’s catacombs.”

“Catacombs?” said Rainbow Dash, excitedly.

“Yeah.” Daring Do shivered. “Drafty, old ones. She treats them like a personal park. Or as loading tunnels. Or who even knows. I don’t really want to myself.”

They came to the end of the stairs, where they opened into a wide but completely unlit room. Daring Do frowned. That did not seem right to her. There was no reason for a room like this- -especially one critical to the security of Wun’s beloved collection- -to be kept in the dark.

“Right,” she whispered. “Keep your eyes opened. I have a bad feeling about this.”

Rainbow Dash nodded and followed Daring Do into the darkness. Almost as soon as they entered, though, they heard hoofsteps. Both of them braced for an attack, and suddenly received one- -in the form of a blinding white light.

“Hey!” grumbled an elderly-sounding voice. “Who are you? What are you doing down here?!”

Daring Do’s eyes adjusted, and she found herself face-to-face with an old, grey-haired stallion. He was pale blue in color and wearing a stereotypical security guard’s uniform, complete with a hat and a ridiculously long flashlight, the latter of which had been the source of the bright light. The stallion peered at Daring Do over his prodigious white mustache, his brown-colored eyes eying both her and Rainbow Dash suspiciously.

“Who are YOU?!” demanded Rainbow Dash.

The old stallion frowned. “I’m Key Jingler. CHIEF of security in these parts! But I shouldn’t have to explain that to you! YOU’RE the trespassers, after all! Breaking into Lady Perr-Synt’s collection- -you should be ashamed of yourselves!”

“We’re sorry,” said Daring Do. “We thought that there might be a problem, ponies trying to steal something really important- -”

The stallion leaned forward, invading both Daring Do and Rainbow Dash’s personal space. Rainbow Dash wrinkled her nose in response, as though she smelled something unpleasant. Daring Do knew what it was; the stallion was wearing a horrible smelling cologne.

“Ponies trying to steal things, you say? Well, if it isn’t two of them now…but say, young lady, you do look awfully familiar…”

Daring Do sighed. “I’m Daring Do. I’m a friend of Wun Perr-Synt.”

“Daring Do…” the stallion’s expression softened, but only slightly. “Say, I know that name. But you still can’t be here. No one can. Lady Perr-Synt left specific instructions, yes indeed! She doesn’t like ponies in here without her. Too much of a risk. These artifacts are priceless, you know?”

“And yet each and every one has a price,” muttered Rainbow Dash. “At least they did to her.”

Daring Do elbowed her associate and turned back to the stallion. “I understand. I was just worried that somepony was going to break in. There were hoofprints outside, and- -”

“Hoofprints? Well of COURSE there’re hoofprints! From the workers!” The stallion pointed his flashlight at the ceiling. “Look! These darn electrical who-fangles! They keep going out! I had to call the crew in at night.” He sighed. “They’re going to be working overtime now just to get this all fixed.”

“And security…?”

“I’m right here, aren’t I? Besides.” He waved dismissively. “It’s just the lights. The security system is still working fine. Trust me, nopony’s been here except me and the workers. And you two.”

“We’re sorry, but if we could just- -”

“No buts!” shouted the stallion, suddenly pushing Rainbow Dash and Daring Do back.

“But she didn’t even say ‘but’!” protested Rainbow Dash.

“I don’t care! Look, I’m glad for your concern, I really am, but you can’t be here! I’m letting you go without calling the police because I know that you’re one of the Lady’s friends. But just having you here is a security risk! Please leave! If you want to see the collection, find Lady Perr-Synt and ask her!”

Daring Do and Rainbow Dash were pushed back to the stairs before they were released. The stallion remained, watching them, until Daring Do sighed and addressed Rainbow Dash.

“Sorry, Dash,” she said. “I guess my gut was wrong on this one.”

She began climbing, as did Rainbow Dash. Key Jingler harrumphed one last time and turned back to his security duties, yelling to the workers. “Hurry UP! I expect to be able to get home before my shift ends!”

Rainbow Dash paused for a moment, and then caught up to Daring Do. “That was weird,” she said.

“Tell me about it.”

“But I guess we don’t have anything to worry about. I mean, if Caballeron DID show up, that guy would be the one to know, right?”

“Right,” said Daring Do, still sounding utterly unconvinced, even by her own words. “It’s just…nevermind. Something isn’t right.”

“I’ll tell you what’s right,” said Rainbow Dash. “Did you smell that guy? Yuck! I’ve always hated that smell…”

Daring Do stopped suddenly. “Wait a minute. You’ve smelled it before?”

Rainbow Dash looked confused, clearly not understanding why the subject of the conversation had moved to perfume. “Of course I have,” she said, slowly. “It’s what Thorax always smells like. I asked him about it once. I forgot what he said. I think that it was some kind of perfume called ‘Fairy Moans’.”

“Fairy Moans?” said Daring Do, confused. Then, suddenly, the thought clicked, and her eyes became wide. “Dash! It’s not perfume! It’s pheromones! That’s what he was telling you! Changeling pheromones!”

Rainbow Dash’s eyes goggled as she realized the implication of the presence of that smell, and her eyes widened in shock. “That means…that means that wasn’t a security guard at all! Or even a pony!”

“No,” replied Daring Do, trotting down the stairs at full speed. “That was a changeling!”

Caballeron and his skeleton crew of ponies had paused at a large door. The unicorn Oxford was in the process of manipulating a control panel at Withers’s instructions as the latter attempted to take control of the door’s locking mechanism. All of them were so preoccupied that all but one of them failed to notice a large tricolored snake slowly and silently slithering from where just minutes before there had been a number of industrial cutting lasers projected across the expanse of a large room.

Rogue was the first to see it. “SWEET CELESTIA! SNAKE!!”

The snake stared at him, and then her body shifted in a glow of green magic. For a moment there was a glimmer of black chitin, and then instead of a snake a small but fuzzy thestral was standing before them, her body covered in black clothing that included a number of bronze straps.

“Don’t ruin the fancy tiles, Rogue,” muttered Argiopé, taking silent joy in having surprised him.

“Sorry,” said Rogue. “It’s just that…snakes…you know. Where I come from…”

“There are snakes in are Zebabwe as well,” said Zel, calmly. “The difference is that we know better than to yell.”

Caballeron did not turn his head to look at are Argiopé. Instead, he addressed her while staring bored at Oxford attempting to manipulate a control panel. “So. Is it done?”

“The mare is a total steed. Did you expect her not to fall for my ruse?”

“Don’t underestimate her,” snapped Caballeron. “I know her far better than I would like to, and I know that you have at best bought us some time.”

“Rainbow Dash was with her.”

Caballeron turned. “Who? I do not know that name. Why do you?”

“Because a great many of my sisters were members of Queen’s army during the siege of Canterlot. Before she was usurped.”

“That’s all very interesting,” said Oxford, finishing what he was doing and opening the panel entirely. “But if you don’t mind, I’ve got the biometric sensors open. If you could get your buggy little bum over here and- -”

Argiopé bristled and thestral-blushed. “Why you impudent- -”

“Argiopé,” warned Caballeron.

Argiopé sighed and threw her head back ostentatiously. “Of course I can.” She strutted to the sensors. “I got more than a good enough look at her during the party.” Argiopé leaned forward, opening one of her eyes. It’s shape changed, replicating Wun Perr-Synt’s large blue eye. At the same time, one of her hooves shifted, becoming larger and longer with the slightly cloven appearance that tended to occur with higher unicorns. She then pressed both appendages against their respective slots on the reader. It paused for one breathless second, and then beeped, identifying that the user had been confirmed without a doubt to be Wun Perr-Synt.

“See?” she said. Argiopé took a step back and blinked, her eye returning to its normal milky blue-green.

“Would you work for me if, say/ I agreed to double your current pay?” asked Zel, clearly intrigued by the idea of having a changeling agent in his group of mercenaries.

“He doesn’t pay me. Except in food.”

The door began to open. Argiopé once again threw her hair back and approached it. She stopped, though, as she approached. Something was not quite right. This time, even she could sense it.

Before them was a long but thin hall with a high ceiling, made from stone on both sides. There was little light, and what light there was came from did not have a clear source. Looking more closely, though, it came from the far end of the hallway: there, at the very edge, was a stone arch made of material that seemed vastly older than the remainder of the stone that had been used to surround it. The light seemed to be coming from the arch itself.

Upon seeing it, Caballeron went pale and took a step back. None of the others questioned why. They could understand as well; each of them could feel cold evil radiating from that ancient stone arch.

“What- -what is that?” asked Rogue, his normally powerful voice quavering.

“The Arch of Atonement,” whispered Caballeron. “I- -I didn’t think it still existed.”

“What is it?”

“An exceedingly powerful and exceedingly deadly artifact,” he said, breathlessly. “It once stood at the entrance to the Cathedral of the Horrid Moon. Which is now in ruins, save for its door. That door.”

“But,” said Argiopé, angered by her own inability to take a single step forward. “There- -there is no door. Just the frame…”

“There never was one,” continued Caballeron. “There was never a need. The Arch is cursed. Only its owner may enter, or a pony invited from the far side. No other pony can cross the threshold and survive.”

Zel stared hard at the gate. “She uses a piece of her collection/ to provide it with the ultimate protection.”

“Can…can you get us through?” asked Rogue to Oxford.

Oxford shook his head. “No. Not a snowball’s chance on Celestia’s bum. The magic coming out of that thing? It…it’s just too ancient, too powerful. I don’t even think Clover the Clever could get her way through that level of sophistication.”

The black stallion’s eyes suddenly tilted. He stepped forward toward the arch. None of the others tried to stop him; even if they had wanted to, not one of them dared to move even one inch closer.

“The runes written on the side,” he said. “They state that no pony can cross.”

“It’s a finite rule construction,” added Oxford. “It’s unchangeable, not without completely destroying the fundamental structure, and even that- -”

“But, wait,” said Rogue, looking around him. “What if…what if it’s not a pony?”

The others looked at each other.

“I…I’m not a pony,” said Argiopé.

“Out of the question,” declared Caballeron. “We have no idea how the curse is constructed. I cannot risk you.”

“You- -you can’t?”

“Do you have any idea how hard it is to find a changeling willing to do this job? Or how much paperwork there would be if you ended up…well, you know.”

“What about Brass?” asked Oxford.

“We can’t risk her either,” sighed Caballeron. “We need her to open the door.”

“I can deal with this,” said the black stallion.

“I don’t think that is true,” said Zel. “This is something that none of us can do.”

“I can,” repeated the stallion, now sounding both annoyed and, oddly, bored. “My special talent makes me very good at hiding. I’m more resistant to curses than most ponies. Especially ones that have conditions.”

“No,” said Oxford. “You can’t. It simply isn’t possible! No pony could- -no, wait, STOP!”

No one moved to stop him. The black stallion approached the fatal arch- -and stepped through it unharmed.

A collective gasp filled the near side of the arch as the stallion turned. He shuddered slightly, but then stared at them all with his enormous yellow eyes. “I hereby invite all present to pass this arch and enter this chamber,” he said.

The oppressive sensation of magic suddenly faded. It was still clearly present, but it had become tolerable. Despite this, none of the other ponies stepped forward.

“Is it safe to cross?/ Without the risk of loss?”

“Do I look cursed to you?”

“No,” said Rogue. “But what if, you know, it’s delayed, or- -”

“A latent effect,” said Oxford. “But no. That’s not how the curse is constructed. It- -it should have been deactivated. According to all analysis, parameters, and design predictions. It should be safe.”

“Excellent,” said Argiopé. “Then you wouldn’t mind going first.”

“Second,” corrected the black stallion.

Oxford stared at her, and then gulped. Despite his fear, he steeled himself; he had, after all, just put his reputation as an expert on the line. Further to his credit, he did not hesitate or falter. He stepped forward and passed through the arch.

Nothing bad happened, which seemed to be as much to his surprise as to that of the others.

“I’m alive!” he said.

“Clearly,” said Argiopé, following him. There definitely was a sensation- -a rather ghastly one- -but she ignored it, instead focusing on proving herself to Caballeron now that she knew that two ponies had survived the ordeal. Still, she did not quite know how the black stallion had been able to pass through such a horrible feeling without even flinching, especially since he had apparently taken it at its full dose.

The others followed, with Zel and Caballeron crossing together. Rogue hesitated, looking back one more time before he held his breath, plugged his nose, and jumped through.
 

Chapter 16: Spear of Extinction

The central collection was breathtaking. It was not stored in a warehouse, or in anything so primitive as a simple storage facility. Rather, the entire lower area that housed Wun Perr-Synt’s collection had been arranged like the halls of an exquisite museum. The walls were covered in hardwood, and the molding had been inlaid with gold and silver. The ceilings had low vaults that were often painted with various stylized scenes in the style of the ancient eastern unicorns, and the carpet alone cost more than most pony’s yearly earnings. Per square foot.

Along both sides of the curving, complicated hallways were glass cases filled with every sort of relic and artifact imaginable. They were roughly organized, but not by any system that Caballeron could understand. There were fragments of ruined armor, cursed weapons, numerous bones, grotesquely decorated pottery, sculptures of strange archaic beings, and beautiful gemstones wrought into strange and ominous jewelry. Caballeron himself did like the idea of collecting such old and useless things, especially the more active items that Perr-Synt preferred. Despite this, he knew many of these items well. He had supplied Wun with many of them.

Argiopé stared wide-eyed. “It’s…it’s beautiful.”

“So you could say,” said Zel, staring into a glass case filled with a number of zebra masks. “And yet this place reeks of dismay.”

“Because almost everything in here either has a horrific history or is trying to create horrors of its own,” mused Caballeron. “Which means it should be self-explanatory that we touch ABSOLUTLY NOTHING.”

He glared at Oxford, who was preparing a lock-picking spell at a tall case filled with a number of gleaming horn rings.

“Oh, come on,” he protested, “we’re already stealing from her. Look at these jewels! Just one of these could let me retire! And that pink one there? Or maybe the white? I have a mare in mind who would look smashing with that over her thin little horn…” He continued with his spell as Caballeron walked up and stared into the case.

“That one,” said Caballeron, pointing at a random ring, “Causes spontaneous combustion. That one will slowly turn the user into plant. The purple one makes the wearer unable to breath anything except cider. The one next to it changes your gender, and the one under that your gender preference. The blue one is known as the Deboner, for obvious reasons. I’ve seen the effects, they’re actually quite spectacular.” He pointed at the pink ring. “And that one, that one I sold to her. It’s called ‘The Quartz of Quartering’. The white is its sister, ‘The Diopside of Drawing’.”

Oxford grew pale and took a large step back.

“On second thought, perhaps it is best not to disturb these things,” he said shakily.

“My thoughts exactly,” said Caballeron. “We are looking for one specific artifact, one that I know will not harm us.”

“And what exactly are we looking for?”

“You? Nothing. I am looking for it. You couldn’t even identify the Quartz of Quartering.”

Oxford looked sheepish, and Caballeron pushed past him. The group then continued onward into the labyrinthine system of lavish hallways and the numerous artifacts within them. Argiopé led, paying little attention to much. Rogue followed, not straying far from Caballeron. He did not even look at the artifacts and jewels; he had worked for Caballeron long enough to know that when his boss said not to touch specific loot, it was best to stay as far away from it as possible.

Zel and the black stallion took the rear. The black stallion did not say much, although he took a passing interest in the things that he passed. He seemed at best mildly amused. Zel, however, grew more anxious and quiet as they moved deeper into the central collection. Many of the artifacts he saw had been pillaged from his homeland. Instead of regret and looted treasures, though, Zel felt the opposite. He was overjoyed that these particular artifacts had been removed from his native continent. Unlike the others, he understood their significance- -and if Wun Perr-Synt knew even a quarter of it, he began to doubt her sanity.

This continued for some time until Caballeron suddenly stopped. He had arrived in front of a tall, narrow glass case. It was not set apart from the others, and seemed to be no more relevant than any of the other displays throughout the collection apart from how high it was- -and that the large case only contained a single item.

Caballeron smiled. “This is it,” he said, gesturing toward the case. It contained a long object, an elegantly but geometrically wrought haft met with a narrow and vicious blade flanked by two curving guards.

Argiopé stared up at it. “A spear?”

“Not just a spear!” corrected Caballeron, almost angrily. “Don’t you know what this is?” None of the others responded. Caballeron sighed, distressed that they were not able to realize what a culturally significant piece of history this was. “This is the Hurricane Spear,” he said. “Also known as the Spear of Extinction.”

“Why is it called that?” asked Rogue, nearly in a whisper.

“Because it is said that Commander Hurricane herself used the spear to slay the last living Exmoor pony.”

There was little response from the group. They did not seem to recognize the word “Exmoor”, which was both a relief and expected. After all, none of them had been able to identify the spear as Commander Hurricane’s personal weapon. It was unlikely any of them would be familiar with something as obscure as the Exmoori.

“I’ve known many a spear,” said Zel, quietly, “and yet this one instils me with such fear…”

“They say,” said Caballeron, “that there is nothing that its blade cannot cut. Legend even speaks of a Mighty Helm warrior by the name of Rockhead who once challenged Hurricane to single combat. He arrived wearing armor wrought from a single piece of solid diamond by stone-worshippers. Hurricane cleaved his diamond helmet with a single blow, and would have cut further were she not remarkably merciful.”

Caballeron reached up and opened the case. It was neither alarmed nor locked. There was no reason why it needed to be. Under normal circumstances only Wun Perr-Synt herself and her most beloved of guests would be allowed here. Even Caballeron would never normally have even the slightest glimmer of hope at entering. Now, though, he reached up with a shaking hoof and took down the spear. It felt strangely warm, but only for a moment; then its temperature became oddly cold.

The metal was strange. Caballeron did not recognize it, and was astounded by how light the spear was. The workmanship on it was strange; no other Pegasus weapon he had ever encountered looked quite like this one did.

“So, what?” said Oxford. “We need to cut something?”

“No,” replied Caballeron. “I have been translating a certain text, and have come to the conclusion that it is meant as instructions. Instructions meant to open something I would rather like to obtain. One of the elements of this texts claims that the temple will ‘ask for the blood of a child of Exmoor’. Of course none of them exist anymore. This spear removed the last one from existence.”

“But his blood is still on the blade,” said Rogue, suddenly realizing what Caballeron is planning. “You want to use the spear like a big key.”

Caballeron tilted the spear just slightly. Despite his tiny motion, the blade of it swung to within an inch of Rogues nose. “You know,” he said. “I preferred when you were far less smart.”

“Y- -yeah, right boss!”

Caballeron paused for effect, and then retracted the spear. He gave it to Argiopé to hold. Despite her having nearly cost them the mission earlier by not simply slithering under the laser beams, she was still remarkably loyal, almost to a fault. Although Caballeron could never admit it, he did in fact tend to trust her. At least as much as he trusted any of his lackeys, which was not very much.

“Hold this carefully,” he said.

“Of course, herr doktor.”

“Now. All we need to do is get this out of here.”

“But the security system is already down,” said Oxford. “And the spells have all been removed.”

“I know. It’s not the system I’m worried about, nor the spells.” He sighed. “Well, you’ll understand soon enough. Let’s go.”

Both Daring Do and Rainbow Dash had been waylaid. Mainly because the instant they arrived in the large dark entryway where they had first met the elderly “guard”, they found that the lights had come back on- -and that the room was full of numerous thugs.

Dealing with said thugs had been a challenge, but not an insurmountable one. It was clear that Caballeron had not left his best henchponies to guard the entryway. Daring Do, despite her age, was highly experienced at fighting goons, to the point where it was nearly humdrum. Rainbow Dash, likewise, also had a good deal of experience despite her young age. In addition, her youth gave her a great advantage in that she was far swifter and limber than Daring Do had been in decades.

That was not what took most of their time, though. Once the various henchponies had been defeated and bound, Rainbow Dash had discovered a separate group of ponies held captive in one of the offices. They had been the original guards. Some of them were still unconscious, and all were injured, although none of them severely. Daring Do had taken time to unbind them, easily recognizing Rogue’s knotting skills as she did so. Unfortunately, her work was slowed by the fact that she was extremely unfamiliar with the idea of untying ropes when she herself was not the one bound in them.

After untying the injured and still largely groggy guards, Daring Do and Rainbow Dash proceeded toward the door to the inner complex. Rainbow Dash swiftly crossed the span and found that the door was still open, although only slightly. She put her hooves against the gap and strained.

“UGH!” she cried. “There’s no way I can get this open!”

“Not by brute strength, no,” said Daring Do. She was not focusing on the gap; rather, she was staring at a poem placed over a keypad.

Rainbow Dash landed and stared at the poem. “To ride from the waves/at times calm, at times stormy/So fair, yet fate grim,” she read. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Daring Do removed a pencil from her shirt and began poking the deep-set mechanical switches that made up the keypad. “Utsukushi Umi,” she said through the pencil in her mouth.

“What? What’s that?”

“Not what. Who. That’s the solution to the poem. Beautiful Ocean. Wun had his armor on display during the party.”

The door suddenly shuddered and shifted before pulling apart with some difficulty. Daring Do had been correct. Rainbow Dash almost rejoiced loudly until she saw a rather confused looking female minotaur turn around to face them. Then, instead, she rejoiced quietly.

“Huh?” said the minotaur. “Who the heck are you?”

“I was about to ask you the same thing,” said Daring Do.

“I wasn’t,” said Rainbow Dash. “Actually, I’m just really surprised that…you know…you’re a girl.”

“I’m a woman!” cried the minotaur, flexing strenuously. “And, what, there can’t be she-minotaurs? How do you think we have our little minotaur families, huh?”

“I don’t know! I thought a female minotaur was, like, you know. A satyr.”

The female minotaur gasped as though she was dealt the most deadly of insults. “THEY ARE A COMPLETELY DIFFERENT SPECIES!”

“She’s right,” said Daring Do. “Dash, come on. You’re embarrassing me.”

Rainbow Dash blushed. “S- -sorry. I didn’t mean- -”

“Just because you didn’t mean it doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt my feelings,” snorted the minotaur. “How would you like it if I called you a griffon, huh?”

“What’s wrong with being a griffon?”

The minotaur’s eyes widened. “Well, nothing, I’m just saying- -”

“That you’re speciesist against griffons?” said Daring Do, raising an eyebrow.

“What? NO! One of my best friends is a griffon! She spots me at the gym!”

“Oh really? Then what’s her name?”

“Uh- -um- -it…starts with a ‘G’?”

Daring Do sighed and turned to Rainbow Dash. “Have you ever heard anything so insulting?” She then winked, and Rainbow Dash understood.

“No, I haven’t! I really DO have a friend who’s a griffon. And if she wasn’t, you know, a hen? A…oh, what is a male griffon called?”

“A cock?” suggested the minotaur.

Daring Do and Rainbow Dash both released exaggerated gasps. “How dare you!” cried Daring Do. “If you’re going to be that insulting, you should go home and reconsider your life!”

The minotaur blushed. “Um…yeah.” She started to step past them. “Sorry about that. I…I think I’m just having a bad day. Maybe my boss can put me through some sensitivity training?”

“I will NOT pay for additional classes!” cried a shrill voice from the hallways the minotaur had been guarding. “It’s in your contract, get some glasses!”

Daring Do looked past the minotaur and saw a group of ponies approaching them. The one who had spoken was a zebra in green fatigues. Beside him was a tall, tattooed unicorn who stood next to Rogue. In front of Rogue walked a young-looking thestral holding a long, strange spear over her back; her blue-green eyes betrayed her as the changeling in the group. A black stallion stood apart from the rest of the group. When Rainbow Dash saw him, she gasped and took a panicked step back. The stallion noticed, but did not take his unwavering, unblinking gaze away from her.

Then, there was Caballeron. The others paused while he took a step forward, grinning smugly.

“Daring Do,” he said, almost chuckling to himself. “You do seem to be slipping a bit in your old age, don’t you?” He looked at his watch. “I was expecting you to interrupt me at least twenty minutes ago. Twenty years ago, you might even have been able to stop me.” He paused and smiled cruelly. “But now? You’re too late, Daring Do!”

“It looks to me like I’m right on time, Caballeron. What is this?” She gestured toward the thestral/changeling holding the spear. “What are you doing? Even I didn’t think you could sink this low. Stealing priceless artifacts from tombs is one thing, but from a private collection? Are you insane?!”

“Quite the opposite! I am a businesspony. And I understand that to make money, sometimes certain sacrifices need to be made. Including to my own dignity.”

“That’s not hard for you. You never had any dignity in the first place.”

Caballeron’s eyes narrowed. “Zel?”

“Brass Knuckles, if you would please/break this pair of ponies.”

The minotaur smiled and suddenly turned, striking at Daring Do and Rainbow Dash. Rainbow Dash dodged easily, but Daring Do was nearly crushed; her only recourse was to tumble backward into the room that she had come through, landing on her wings in the process.

There was not even a moment of respite to right herself. A blade flashed, and Daring Do moved one of her wings out of the way just in time to avoid having it skewered to the ground. The blade struck the empty tile instead, sparking and leaving a deep gouge in the granite.

For a moment, Daring Do wondered if they were using the strange spear to attack her- -but she quickly realized that the spear that had struck at her was smaller and, somehow, vastly inferior to the one the changeling carried on her back. It belonged to the zebra.

“A svelte body and nice hair?” rhymed the Zebra, “you look quite good for an older mare!”

He swung the spear sideways, nearly drawing it across Daring Do’s chest. She slid back and rolled, landing in a standing position. A button popped off her vest. She smiled.

“Not so bad yourself. You’re a mercenary.”

“To that, I have to say yes. No more, and no- -” Daring Do pirouetted and attempted to punch him in the stomach. He parried with the side of his blade and was knocked back but not off balance. “There is no crime/like interrupting a zebra during his rhyme!” he cried, annoyed.

“Maybe if you would stop rhyming and start fighting, we could do this properly?”

The zebra smiled. “I see. So let it be.”

He struck again. This time Daring Do dodged, but not quickly enough. Several of her flight feathers were severed on her left wing. She swore to Cadence’s rear under her breath; the zebra was toying with her, but doing it very effectively.

A snap rang through the air, and the zebra- -in the process of pirouetting for another strike- -stumbled and nearly fell. He looked down to see Daring Do’s whip wrapped around his ankle. With a cry, he drove his spear through it- -only for the blade to nick in a plume of sparks.

His eyes went wide, and he laughed. “A whip made from finest dragon leather!/ Indeed, this is quite a tether!”

Before Daring Do could respond, he jumped and rolled in midair, wrapping the whip around himself- -and in the process pulling Daring Do toward him.

Rainbow Dash, meanwhile, had joined her own portion of the fight. Specifically, with the she-minotaur. The minotaur reached out and struck at her, missing and instead painfully striking the tile below. Rainbow Dash almost appeared not to have moved, and was pretending to polish her hoof half a meter from where the minotaur had struck.

“Hold- -STIL!” cried the minotaur, striking- -and missing- -once again.

“I wouldn’t have to if you weren’t so slow,” said Rainbow Dash, now sitting on the minotaur’s shoulder. “I mean, I’ve literally seen a pregnant cow covered in molasses moving faster. Long story as to how she got so sticky. Pinkie Pie was making this new type of cookie- -”

“I am NOT A COW!” screamed the minotaur. She reached for Rainbow Dash, only to find to her dismay that her enormous biceps kept her arms from reaching that high. When she finally did figure it out, she slammed her fist into her own shoulder. Rainbow Dash had already moved to the opposite.

“GAH! My trapezius!”

“Hey, what is this thing?” Rainbow Dash poked at the complicated metal device that the minotaur was holding on her back. “It looks really fancy. You know, you’d probably move faster if you didn’t have this.”

“GET OFF ME you little WEASEL!” The minotaur tried to punch Rainbow Dash again, this time striking her other shoulder. Her arm went numb. “GAH!” she cried. “My OTHER trapezius!”

“Weasel,” said Rainbow Dash, now reposing between the minotaur’s small horns. “That’s a new one. And I’ve been called a LOT of things in my life. But never a weasel, and never by a satyr.”

The minotaur’s face shifted in color to a deep shade of burgundy. She screamed in rage and charged at a wall, intending to squeeze Rainbow Dash between the heavy concrete and her horns. Rainbow Dash simply flipped off, allowing the impact to occur exactly as planned, except without her in the center of the sandwich.

The report of the impact was immense, even in the poor acoustics of the deep basement. The minotaur stood up, clearly tipsy from having just concussed herself, and then dropped to the ground.

“Ha,” said Rainbow Dash. “That’s what you get for messing with Daring Do and her partner Rainbow Da- -”

She did not get a chance to finish. Strange crimson bands suddenly shot from the granite tile below her, wrapping themselves around her body and forcing her to her knees. She tried to cry out, but one had already filled her mouth. Rainbow Dash recognized the flavor. It tasted distinctly of magic.

A tattooed unicorn appeared beside her. “Look at that!” he cried, laughing. “One Pegasus cutie, gift-wrapped and ready for shipping. You know, with a mane like that, you would fetch a pretty penny at the pony markets out in the badlands. Oh, if only I had the time for a good artifact compression spell…” He shrugged. “But, hey. Maybe I can sell TWO cuties. Even if one’s an old prune.”

He turned his attention toward the fight, moving quickly in a wide crescent, attempting to find vantage where he could not be seen so that the could strike without fear of repercussions.

A different presence appeared beside Rainbow Dash. She expected to look up to see Caballeron standing over her, perhaps ready to foalnap her and hold her for ransom. When she looked up- -prepared to offer a few choice words through her magical gag- -her eyes went wide instead, as the pony beside her was not Caballeron. Instead, it was an inky black stallion who stared with strange yellow eyes.

“So you can listen,” he said. “Huh.”

Daring Do stood up, coughing. She had just taken a zebra hoof to the chest, and it had knocked the wind out of her. The zebra lunged again, and Daring Do snapped her whip just to the right of his face. The zebra barely reacted, instead twisting and swinging his spear at Daring Do’s belly. Daring Do jumped back, which seemed to be exactly what he was expecting. He turned and struck Daring Do in the chest with the butt of his spear, once again knocking the wind out of her. She was also put off balance and fell rearward, striking her head on one of the display cases that the guards must have been moving back into the main collection. The glass shifted in response to the impact, rippling with strange runes. Daring Do realized that this was the case housing the Masque of Red Death.

Even before she was able to try and stand, crimson-colored bands shot out from around her, entrapping her lower body and moving upward. Daring Do immediately pressed her hooves together and rapidly recited a couplet in ancient zebric. She felt a sensation of heat and being drained, and the bands shattered before they could cover her mouth.

The zebra had been preparing for an attack, but upon hearing Daring Do perform a zebra spell- -even a minor one- -he halted awkwardly, unaware of what to do next. Unfortunately, the unicorn beside him- -the one who had cast the bands- - had no qualms about attacking. He cried out and charged forward, covering his body in magical armor and projecting a powerful pain spell around her horn.

Daring Do stood up quickly but did not dodge- -at least not at first. She waited until she could feel the warmth of the unicorn’s horn magic, and then suddenly shifted to the side, grabbing his shoulder. His armor was reactive, and the pain was searing, but she still held on long enough to ram him horn-first into the magical protection barrier that secured the Masque of Red Death.

His horn penetrated deep into the shielding and the runes immediately darkened to sickly black. The unicorn’s eyes bulged and he began to scream horribly as his body convulsed. After a few seconds, Daring Do and the zebra were thrown back by a resounding explosion as the shield collapsed. The unicorn stumbled backward, his horn blackened and sparking, and then fell to the floor in a heap.

As he fell, the binding spell over Rainbow Dash shattered. Caballeron saw this, and immediately understood that the tides had turned against him. Oxford had just been taken out, and Brass Knuckles was still struggling to stand. The black stallion was nowhere in sight; he had apparently elected to hide somewhere rather than fight. Rogue, as per his training, elected to stay behind to ensure that Caballeron and the Spear were protected. That left only Argiopé, Zel, and himself. The first of which would be more than enough to ensure a successful escape.

“Argiopé,” he said. “Give me the spear. It looks to me like I cannot count on anypony except you. I apologize for my behavior toward you, but I need you.”

Argiopé blushed. “It’s okay,” she said. “I don’t mind if you hit me. Next time do it on my rump.” She held out the spear, but did not give it to Caballeron. A vicious, toothy smile crossed her face.

“Argiopé…”

“I know a better use for this.”

Before Caballeron could stop her, Argiopé shifted into the form of a powerful Pegasus. She shot forward, past Zel, just as Daring Do was recovering from the magical attack. Daring Do had no chance to dodge: Argiopé plunged the end of the spear into her chest.

“NO!” cried Caballeron.

Daring Do felt something snap inside her. There was incredible pain as she was thrown back onto the floor. She had seen the glint of the spear blade, and the world seemed to slow as it approached her. She recognized what it was. It was the Hurricane Spear, and it bore a blade that could cut through any substance without hindrance- -her included

She looked down at her chest, expecting it to be the last thing she would ever see. Instead, though, much to her surprise she found that her shirt was completely intact. The blade had not even left an imprint on the fabric.

“What?!” cried Argiopé, staring at the blade. “This spear is BLUNT!”

“Who’d have thought?” wheezed Daring Do, slowly rising to her feet. She had definitely broken at least one rib. She was out of the fight, but had to at least try to keep going on.

“ARGIOPÉ!” cried Caballeron. “The spear!”

Argiopé glowered and threw the spear to Zel. “Take it,” she said. “I don’t need weapons to deal with this horse!”

Rainbow Dash landed behind Argiopé, effectively cutting off her retreat. Argiopé hardly seemed to care. Her green eyes did not depart from Daring Do, nor did they at any point cease to seethe with absolute hatred.

“We don’t have to do this,” said Daring Do. “You’re outnumbered.”

Argiopé laughed sardonically. “The pony who loves me told me to stop you. So I WILL.”

Her body shifted. Argiopé, like many of her kind, had a host of forms that she could take, but one among them was her favorite. It was the form that she took her name from, and in her opinion her true self.

The ground shook as she finished materializing. The creature standing between Daring Do and Rainbow Dash was no longer a pony. Instead, Argiopé had taken the form of a massive, obese spider with an orange and black striped abdomen and a vicious white head. Her many blue-green eyes continued to stare at Daring Do, and her long fangs dripped with venom.

Zel took a step back. “S- -spider! Her!”

Argiopé glared at him and struck him hard with one of her long striped legs. He was hit in the side and went flying. Several things were dislodged from his person, including his personal spear as well as some things that had been in his pockets- -including a small package wrapped carefully in a leaf. Argiopé neither noticed nor cared, as he had remained in possession of the artifact that Caballeron had come to collect.

Then she charged, scuttling across the ground toward Daring Do.

“You look so tiny!” she boomed, trying to swipe at Daring Do with her legs and strike her down with her fangs. “A little pony snack!”

Daring Do dodged, crying out form pain as she did so. She rolled and tilted, and Argiopé shattered several display cases as she pursued.

“Rainbow Dash!” cried Daring Do, pointing toward the effects left behind when the zebra had gone flying.

Rainbow Dash stared at the pile, and lunged for it. Argiopé saw this and tilted her rear toward him. A stream of silk shot out, immediately covering Rainbow Dash and ensnaring her.

Rainbow Dash looked down at herself wide-eyed and dry-heaved. “Wh- -what IS THIS?!” she cried. “Where did- -did this come out of your- -EW EWW EEWWW!”

“It’s silk you prude,” said Argiopé, looming toward Rainbow Dash and momentarily ignoring Daring Do. “If you were to weave that into a scarf it would cost more than your whole Wonderbolt pension.”

“But it’s so GROSS!”

“But effective. As you can see,” she looked to Daring Do, “your daughter cannot move. And neither can you, for much longer. That’s the problem with an internal skeleton. Bones break far easier than chitin.” She turned toward Rainbow Dash. “So…perhaps I will suck the fluid from your daughter while you watch. Call it an appetizer.”

“Nobody touches my FLUID!” cried Rainbow Dash. She tore at the silk with all her strength and managed to free one front leg. Even with it free, though, the best she could do was crawl toward the fallen spear.

“That explains why you’re so uptight,” said the massive spider, laughing sinisterly. She kicked Rainbow Dash hard with one of her legs, turning her belly-up so that the softest parts were exposed. “Needless to say, as a changeling, I don’t need to eat. I can, but it serves no biological purpose. It’s just for flavor.” She brushed the tip of one of her hairy legs through Rainbow Dash’s mane. “And I’d bet that you taste like fruit…”

Her fangs extended, and Rainbow Dash suddenly rolled. She picked up Zel’s spear in one hoof and rolled directly under Argiopé’s abdomen. As she did, she braced the spear against the ground, holding it with the end pointed up.

Nothing happened. The tip of the spear was still several feet below Argiopé’s soft spider underbelly. “Really?” she said, turning her hideous spider head to look under herself. “Is your name Sam? Are you some sort of shoeless halflinger? That isn’t how it works in real life!”

“Maybe not,” said Rainbow Dash, smiling, “but if you weren’t such an egghead, you probably wouldn’t have gotten so distracted!”

“What?”

At that moment Daring Do descended on Argiopé’s back. The changeling screamed and reared, but Daring Do wrapped her whip around Argiopé’s neck, using it like a set of reigns. The spider cried and bucked and tried to strike Daring Do with her long legs. With Daring Do lodged between her head and abdomen, though, it was impossible to remove her.

“GET OFF!” she cried.

“MAKE ME!”

Argiopé screamed one more time and shifted, taking a smaller shape. Rainbow Dash flipped the spear, cutting through the silk binding her, and then turned it toward Argiopé. As she did, though, she felt a strange warm sensation behind her eyes. Something was moving through her mind.

Suddenly, a pony screamed. Rainbow Dash recognized the scream and stumbled, lowering the spear, having nearly skewered a now teary-eyed Fluttershy.

“P- -please, Rainbow Dash!” wept Fluttershy. Her eyes darted around the room. “I- -I don’t know where I am! D- -don’t hurt me!”

“Flutter- -”

Rainbow Dash understood what was happening, but it was already too late. The changeling leapt onto her, still in Fluttershy’s form, and sunk her long needle-like teeth into Rainbow Dash’s into Rainbow Dash’s shoulder.

“MY TRAPEZIUS!” cried Rainbow Dash.

“It’s what you get for helping that horse!” screamed Argiopé through a mouthful of Rainbow Dash.

“Hey, changeling!” cried Daring Do. Argiopé’s eyes turned toward Daring Do and realized all-too late what her plan was. Daring Do had never intended to use Zel’s spear; instead, she had picked up the small leaf-wrapped package.

With one swift motion, Daring Do threw it. Argiopé tried to dodge, but Rainbow Dash wrapped her in a hug that prevented her from moving. The package struck her, exploding in a plume of greenish-brown mud.

Argiopé screamed and tore herself free from Rainbow Dash. She writhed in confusion and surprise as her form destabilized. She shifted between several forms- -an unshaven Pegasus stallion, an elderly guard, a black earth-pony- -before the illusion finally collapsed completely. All that was left was her as a dark-colored changeling, a generic drone identical to the ones that had served under Queen Chrysalis.

“You- -you HORSE!” she cried. She began to crawl away, crying as she did so. “Doktor! My doktor! Please- -please don’t look at me! I’m hideous!”

Caballeron stared at her, and took a step back, grimacing at the sight of a flailing, blubbering insect. Heartbreak crossed Argiopé’s face, and Daring Do immediately found herself feeling profound pity for the girl.

“You still have wings!” snapped Caballeron. “USE THEM!”

Argiopé sniffled and her thin wings buzzed. She took flight, joining Caballeron. Zel was with him, and he was helping Rogue with the minotaur, who could still barely stand. The black stallion had also rematerialized, apparently believing that the fight was over.

“Move!” cried Rogue. “This way!”

Daring Do started to follow them, but then heard Rainbow Dash’s pained groans. She paused, then against her better judgement ran to Rainbow Dash’s side.

“She- -she bit me!” cried Rainbow Dash.

“Of course she did. Hold still!” Daring Do removed a package of ointment from her jacket and began putting it on the bites.

“But what if- -what if she’s venomous?!”

“She’s a weaver! Only the royal changelings are venomous! You’re going to be fine!” She helped Rainbow Dash up. “Come on! They’re headed for the catacombs! If they get out there, we’ll never be able to track them down!”

Rainbow Dash groaned but then nodded. She took flight and raced forward, with Daring Do following on foot. Both of them ignored their pain for the sake of their perception by the other.

They were both slowed by their injuries and by the exertion of the fight, but they still managed to stay on Caballeron’s tail as he moved through the bowels of the facility. Eventually, they found themselves in a long tubular hallway which appeared to serve as the main drainage point for the underground system. Daring Do’s hooves splashed in the water as she ran, and the sound of her footsteps and those of her quarry echoed off the walls.

“Caballeron!” she cried. There was no more to her cry, because no more needed to be said. She had only spoken to remind him that there was no way he could escape. He was simply not fast enough.

Caballeron heard her. He turned to the still woozy minotaur. “Brass Knuckles, was it?”

“Uh…I don’t know. I got hit pretty hard.”

“Do I look like I care? I don’t. It’s time to use it.”

The minotaur stared at him, confused for a moment, and then a smile crossed her face. She reached for her back and unbuckled the metallic object from her back and began to set it on the ground.

“Withers,” said Caballeron, just as Daring Do and her daughter came around the corner. “Send out the activation code, then pack up and get out of there!”

“Right. Let’s sanctify some nubs!”

The metal object suddenly shuddered. It began to unfold. Four projections extended, and then shifted themselves into a pair of legs. A head rose up, and the metal plating changed orientation to form armor. Daring Do, on seeing it, skidded to a stop. Her daughter stared wide-eyed.

“A little present!” laughed Caballeron. “I hope you enjoy it as much as it enjoys you! Adios, Daring Do!”

He then turned and ran with what was left of his team.

“They’re getting away!” cried Rainbow Dash, racing after them.

“DASH!” cried Daring Do. “WAIT!”

The red eye of the mechanical pony suddenly turned to face Rainbow Dash. It sprung into the air with absurd speed, rebounding off the curved walls of the tunnel and striking Rainbow Dash in the gut. Rainbow Dash cried out and spiraled into the water below, splashing and skidding to a stop.

The machine then turned its attention to Daring Do. It advanced with the same speed it had used on Rainbow Dash; despite being thin and lightly-built, it was incredibly quick. Daring Do tried to dodge but was struck in the chest. Her vision went black from the pain, but she tried to stay conscious. The next thing she felt was her back slamming into the concrete of the tunnel and the sickening sensation of her arthritic wing joints being pushed out of place.

“Daring!” cried Rainbow Dash. She flew upward and then around the tunnel in a tight coil, gaining speed and momentum. She struck the side of the machine, causing it to momentarily tilt before compensating strangely on its metal legs. It did not allow Rainbow Dash to come by for a second pass: several missiles flew from an aperture on its back. They exploded with blinding light. Rainbow Dash screamed in surprise and deviated from her course. The machine stepped to the side, allowing Rainbow Dash to strike concrete. Then it turned back to Daring Do.

It struck, but Daring Do was marginally quick enough to dodge. She slid between its legs, moving through the slippery water beneath it. The water was salty, and a thick layer of red algae had grown beneath it. Sliding was easy, but as she did, Daring Do found herself looking upward. This thing had internal mechanical components: gears, cogs, motors and wire. She realized that it was not a golem- -and that she had seen something very similar before.

Daring Do stood up, holding a hoof full of red algae as she did so. “Rainbow,” she said. Rainbow Dash, still partially blinded, stood up. “I have an idea. But I need you to distract it!”

“Distract it? How the heck am I supposed to- -OOP!”

The machine took a swing at her. Any other pony would have had a wing broken by the blow, but Rainbow Dash was fast enough to dodge and strike the machine in the face. Its head moved back slightly, and Rainbow Dash’s eyes widened.

“Celestia’s BUTT!” she screamed, holding her fist. “This thing is HARD!” She was then promptly grabbed by one hoof and thrown to the ground. “And STRONG! What even is this thing?!”

“You’re doing a great job, Dash,” said Daring Do. She was hardly paying attention; instead, she had rolled up one of her shirt’s sleeves to reveal the white t-shirt sleeve underneath. “Don’t let it get near me!”

“Right!” said Rainbow Dash. She kicked the machine in the chest. It did not respond, except by grabbing her by the hoof and throwing her back.

“NO YOU DON’T!” cried Rainbow Dash, catching herself in the air and swooping around the machine, going after its thin, angular legs. The machine saw her and jumped back away from Daring Do. In the process, it fired another barrage of missiles; this time, though, Rainbow Dash turned her back and let the missiles explode right in front of the machine’s face. It took another step back as its optic cells reconfigured themselves to compensate for the blast.

“Come on,” muttered Daring Do, “just a little bit more…”

“Daring!” cried Rainbow Dash. Daring Do looked up to see her clinging to the machine’s rear leg. It was walking forward regardless, coming toward Daring Do. Its single red eye was locked onto her. It had no real face, apart from the most abstract semblance of one- -just that single, red eye.

It kicked Rainbow Dash free and lunged, its metal hooves aiming for Daring Do’s neck. As it did, Daring Do turned her body so that her sleeve was facing the machine- -and the image drawn onto it in red algae.

The machine immediately froze. It’s eye turned downward, staring at the symbol: the one that Daring Do had copied as perfectly as she could from her memory of the red and white Questlord insignia that she had seen before on the power-suited pony who had attacked her in Southern Equestria.

For a tense moment, she was not sure if it would work. Then the machine moved, not to attack but to stand at attention.

“Questlord identified,” it said in a surprisingly pony-like voice. “Your orders, Lord Knight?”

“Cease attack and shut down.”

The machine paused for a moment. “Orders acknowledged. Executing. Please wait.”

Then, as though every bolt and screw in the machine’s body had come out at once, it collapsed into thousands of individual pieces. Seconds before, it had been attacking them and resisting their efforts as though it were completely immune to damage; now it was a pile of scrap metal rusting quietly in a flow of salt water in the tunnel far below the streets of Singapone.

Daring Do breathed a long sigh. There was silence for a moment, and then Rainbow Dash began to cheer.

“You- -you DID IT! I can’t believe it! How did you know?!”

“A lucky guess,” replied Daring Do. She dropped to her knees, and concern suddenly crossed Rainbow Dash’s face.

“Daring!”

“I’m fine, Dash, I’m fine,” she said. “Just…I’m getting way too old for this.”
 

Chapter 17: The Red-Eyed Leader

The path began to slope uphill. Water still trickled down it, but slowly. This was not a sewer, exactly, nor was it part of the dismal catacombs that permeated the space under the city. It was something that somepony had built many years- -or perhaps many centuries- -ago. Whatever purpose it had once served had been forgotten, only for it to be discovered and forgotten in sequence throughout the passing span of time. Few in the modern era new of it. Those that did had sold the secret to Caballeron for a considerable cost.

Few of those that had gone into Wun Perr-Synt’s home had come back. Almost all of the hired muscle had been lost. Zel, who had lost his spear and much of his personal equipment and who now helped orient the minotaur Brass Knuckles, who though able to walk was still badly concussed and wobbly. The black stallion stood beside him, staying to the shadows with his griffon brother. The griffon had rejoined Withers and his Pegasus friend on the ground and managed to escape with them to a predefined rendezvous point. Their tree-hugging friend had been left behind, as she had claimed that the smashing yew tree was her soulmate and that the pair of them were going to raise an entire forest of half-pony shrub hybrids. Or at least so Withers had claimed.

Rogue and Argiopé had also pulled through, although the latter only barely. Argiopé was weak and still afflicted by the strange zebra mud that Daring Do had attacked her with; she was unable to format her body back to anything that Caballeron might find attractive. The best she could do was attempt to shift most of her dark-colored body to a dull orange shade, complete with a partial coat. From the way he looked at her, though, she knew that she was still disgusting to him; she had attempted to hide her shame in wet rags that she had managed to scavenge from the catacombs.

“Herr doktor,” she wheezed, trying to approach Caballeron and rub his side. “Please…I need food…”

Caballeron did not look at her. He instead recoiled, not letting her touch him.

“Argiopé,” said Rogue, as kindly as he was able to, “this isn’t a good time for him. Come on.”

“But we won!” snapped Argiopé. “We acquired the Spear!” She brandished it, and Zel stared at it darkly.

“Yes, but at what price?” he asked grimly. “So that we can wander the sewer like mice? I had a group with many I could call a friend/and now all of that had come to an end!”

“You knew the risk, zebra! And if you hadn’t been carrying that idiotic cursed mud- -”

Caballeron suddenly snatched the Spear from her. Argiopé squeaked as he glared at her. “And you have no idea the cost you almost paid,” he snapped.

“Doktor- -”

“Twice. TWICE! That is how many times you disobeyed my orders tonight!” he planted the butt of the spear against the wet stones below. “What had possessed you? I do not know. But if you were anypony else?” He leaned forward and yelled in her face. “I would have sent you away! You would be FIRED!”

Argiopé winced, but stood firm. She was done recoiling in terror, emboldened by her hunger and shame. “Then why don’t you?” she hissed.

“Because you are valuable. Supposedly! Although with this behavior? I don’t know if this is worth the trouble!”

“Boss,” said Rogue. “We couldn’t have done it without her.”

“You. Shut. UP.” Caballeron pointed the spear at Rogue’s nose, causing the latter to stiffen. “This is between myself and one of my employees.”

Argiopé inhaled sharply. “And?” she asked, shakily.

“And?” Caballeron leaned forward so their faces were nearly touching. “You tried to use this spear on Daring Do. Had you succeeded…”

“Then you would finally be free of her. That’s what you want, herr doktor, isn’t it?”

“That is NOT how we do things!”

“But she deserved it.”

“That may be true! But think for a moment about this weapon.” Caballeron held the end of the spear out to her, but horizontally. It was not meant as an aggressive gesture in the same way he had threatened Rogue. “This blade. You know why we have it?”

“For the blood contained within it.”

“Yes. The blood of a child of Exmoor. And if you were to mix it with that of an ill-born Pegasus?”

Argiopé stiffened. She understood. “It would be contaminated.”

“Yes, Argiopé! Use your mind for once! What did I hire you for? In case you haven’t noticed, you’re the only one of my henchponies with an IQ greater than this spear!” Argiopé flushed green. It was her equivalent of blushing. “Honestly,” sighed Caballeron, angrily turning back to the path. “I don’t know what motivates you to be so rash! You have so much potential. But your performance reviews for this quarter? They will be dismal! DISMAL!””

“We can at least be glad that the Spear is much more blunt than the legends state,” said Argiopé, managing to smile. She was not sure why, but she felt somewhat better. “Of course, ponies always tend to overestimate the size and power of their spears, don’t they?”

“Ha,” moaned Brass Knuckles. “Spears…”

“I also have questions concerning our take,” said Zel. “Forgive me, Doctor, but I worry that this spear is a fake.”

“Nonsense!” cried Caballeron, almost shrilly. “I am an expert in archeology and artifacts identification! I can assure you, this is indeed genuine!”

“Forgive me if that does not assuage my fears/but I am a zebra, and I know a great deal about spears.”

“Boss, he has a point,” said Rogue.

“Much unlike the spear,” added Withers.

Rogue glared at his coworker, even though he found the response mildly witty. “What I mean is, the Spear’s supposed to be sharp, in’it? And this one clearly isn’t.”

“Maybe it got cleaned or something,” suggested the Pegasus mare.

“Certainly not!” Caballeron was becoming several shades darker at the thought of being doubted. “I can assure you, this spear is most certainly genuine! I should know! I was the one who sold it to her!”

The rest stopped, and Caballeron turned away from them swiftly. They said nothing, because on some level they all understood. When he had sold it, he had been young, barely year into is postoc position at the University of Cloudsdale. He had not- -and could not have- -known that he would once again need it someday.

Yet he understood the cost it had taken to bring it back. That was why he had hired external workers: because they were expendable. He supposed Zel knew this as well, despite his anger at having lost most of his team. His greatest fear, though, was for Argiopé, and the price she had nearly paid. There was indeed a way things were meant to work, and Caballeron found himself thanking Celestia that the Hurricane Spear was dull for more than one reason.

As they proceeded, though, his mind began to wander, and he began to organize his thoughts. They had been successful, after all. Despite the minor losses, they had recovered the Spear of Extinction. Whether it was dull or not did not matter; Caballeron intended to use it as a key rather than a weapon. A key that would open the way to the Hand of Doom.

And, further, the events had shown him what he had feared constantly: that as close as he was, Daring Do was hot on his trail.

The path ascended and widened, turning from a decaying tunnel into a vast room, a part of a larger complex that perhaps might have been the dungeons of a castle. It was cold, damp, and drafty, but it was apparent from the decayed barrels and rotting crates that lined its walls that whoever had last used it had vacated at least half a century prior.

“Now that we’re there, I have to say/ this is a nice lair.”

“It’s not a lair,” corrected Caballeron, setting the Spear of Extinction on a sturdy but rough-hewn and ancient-looking table. “It’s a hideout. And I assure you, I paid a premium for the map to it. No one even knows it exists. We will be safe here for a time.”

“Are you sure about that?” said Withers. He pointed into the darkness with a shaking hoof. Despite wearing thick sunglasses in a largely unlit tunnel, he clearly saw something that the others did not.

“Argiopé!”

Argiopé obliged. Her small chitinous horn ignited with green light, and although her changeling magic was weak, she was still able to perform a simple spell. The candles placed throughout the room on various jutting stones and in small alcoves designed for the purpose suddenly ignited with green flames.

Caballeron took a step back. As weak as the candlelight was, it was adequate for him to see that they were indeed not alone. A pony was sitting in a large chair across from them. Although her form was partially obscured by the shadows and by a large cape she wore, Caballeron could tell even in the green light that neither her coat nor mane had even the slightest hint of color- -and that her eyes were brilliant red.

“YOU!” he cried.

“Doctor Caballeron,” she said in greeting. “You’re late. Perhaps you should start wearing a real watch instead of that one.”

Caballeron covered his watch with his free hoof in a minor act of rebellion. His day was already going poorly, and just as he had begun to justify his losses it had suddenly dropped to rock bottom. Angrily, he took a step forward.

“So what is this?” he spat. “Oversight? Do you not trust me to do the job you paid me to do? To acquire this ‘Hand of Doom’ for your ever-so wealthy employer? I would think I’m being quite gracious! I didn’t ask questions, because I don’t need to know- -but what I NEED is the freedom to do my work as I see fit!”

“There’s no need to pout,” growled Zel. He nodded to Brass Knuckles, who nodded back before standing and cracking her neck and back. “We’ll just throw them out.”

“Of course you will,” sighed the white mare. She raised a hoof. Behind her chair, two invisibility spells deactivated and two enormous ponies in heavy silver armor stepped out of the shadows to her side. As the mare raised her hoof, it was also apparent from the silver glint below her cape that she was wearing a thinner version of the same heavy armor beneath it.

“Don’t interfere,” hissed Caballeron. “Or do you think I can’t do my job myself either?”

Zel stared at Caballeron for a long moment, and then bowed almost hyperbolically deep and gestured for him to proceed. Caballeron took a breath, regaining his composure as he straightened his ascot.

“Please forgive me for my rudeness,” he said. “It’s been…an eventful day.”

“An eventful day of robbing a private collection, you mean.”

Caballeron’s eyes flashed. “I did what I had to do.”

“Indeed you did.” The mare stood and approached the table. She looked closely at the Spear of Extinction, and without warning she picked it up. Argiopé and Rogue stepped forward to stop her, but Caballeron stopped them.

The mare swung the Spear with surprising grace that indicated extensive training. Then, seeming satisfied, she set it back on the table.

“Clearly a relic of great value,” she admitted. “But not what we asked for.”

“Of course not. I’m not an idiot. The Spear is a means, not an end. And I fully intend to return it.”

The albino Pegasus raised an eyebrow. “Trying to reassure me that you won’t raid my employer’s collection when you need to use one of his or her artifacts?”

“Only if somepony can pay me more than he can.”

The mare did not smile. “Doubtful. You will not find better pay than what my employer is offering. That said, we had higher hopes for you.”

“Oh?”

“Meaning we had hoped you were not an abject moron.”

Argiopé snarled and leapt forward. One of the armored knights moved to intercept her. Although he was at least five paces away, he crossed the floor in an instant, blocking Argiopé’s path.

“How dare you! You come to interfere with our business, and accuse the doktor of stupidity? Or did you just come to grasp his spear and take credit for his work?”

“As I have stated,” said the mare, calmly, “the Spear does not concern me. Except, as you stated, as a means. A means which we still intend to let you elucidate. However, we are greatly disappointed that you allowed your ranks to be infiltrated so easily.”

“Infiltrated?” Caballeron shot Zel a glance, and Zel returned it twice as harshly.

“Let her pretty armor rust!” he cried. “There is not one of my troop that I could not trust!”

“Indeed.” The mare raised her hoof, and the female Pegasus standing beside Withers bowed. She lifted her hoof and removed a large colored contact lens, revealing that the eye beneath it had a deep red iris. Her coat color, likewise, suddenly seemed off; in hindsight, it could not have been more apparent that hit was dyed.

Withers gaped, nearly dropping his glasses. “But…you were hot!”

“I still am,” said the mare, her accent now identical to that of the other white mare. “And if it’s any consolation, I do not find you to be especially boring.”

“Well, thanks.”

“Of course,” continued the armored mare, walking amongst the group. “Our agents are expected to be undetectable. To be perfect in all ways. Short of employing a vedmak or a CRUT agent, I doubt you would have discovered her. My disappointment is not that she managed to infiltrate you. It’s that you were infiltrated TWICE.”

With a sudden motion, she extended her hoof. A narrow silver blade shot from it, and with a flash she turned sideways and stabbed it through the torso of the pure-black griffon. The force not only pierced his entire body but transfixed him to the stone wall behind him.

The other ponies screamed. Rogue fainted. Caballeron stared wide-eyed at the horror before him- -but then felt a silent scream rise to his throat as he saw what happened next. The griffon convulsed as though badly injured- -as in truth, the wound would surely have been mortal- -but his motions were not that of any living thing. For a moment, it appeared as though his skin was empty and loose over a writhing mass of unseen, horribly monstrous creatures. Then in a flash the griffon exploded in a plume of feathers. Argiopé cried out as a swarm of crows rushed from where his body had been, leaving behind no trace that a being had been sitting there before, save for the armored mare’s blade, still stuck deeply in the wall.

With another swift motion, the mare removed the blade and pointed it at the black stallion.

“Who are you?” she demanded harshly.

The stallion’s face split as he smiled. It was a ghastly sight that made Caballeron shiver: a gray, toothless slit in a black shadow whose only color was from a pair of jaundiced yellow eyes.

“Do we frighten you, Questlord?” His voice was unpleasant, and had a strange accent that even Caballeron could not place.

“I am no Questlord,” replied the mare, not lowering her blade.

“Yes, yes. I can see that. Or did you think that armor can hide what you are? The fact that your flank is completely and utterly blank?”

“My flank does not concern you.”

“No.” The yellow eyes flashed toward her, focusing only on the white Pegasus. “But what you are does. So very unusual. Such good worksmanship….”

“I will not repeat myself. Who are you? Who do you work for?”

The stallion- -if he had ever even been a stallion- -glowered, suddenly angry. “There is no one left worthy to give us orders. To who we are, though, we grant you an answer, primitive. We are Flock.”

“Why- -why are you here?” demanded Caballeron.

The stallion turned his eyes upward. Numerous crows cawed from the darkness, forming a deafening cacophony. Then they suddenly went silent. “Because the Spear is required to open the Gate,” he said, as though it were obvious. “And because Daring Do would not have been able to steal it on her own. She is afflicted badly by your ill-conceived false morality.” He grinned. “But taking it from you? She will have no qualms doing that.”

“She will not win,” growled Caballeron.

The smile on the stallion’s toothless face expanded. “Farmer-hose. Your kind is born with limited mental capacity. You cannot help that you are invariably simple. The codex you bear. The one that you lack the tact to understand. Did it ever occur to you who may bear the second half?”

Caballeron’s eyes went wide, and it was clear he understood. The stallion cackled with cruel laughter as his body burst from within, erupting into a plume of ravens and crows. The cacophony resumed as his crows joined those of his brother, and as the whole mass swirled upward. After a few minutes, the sound of their laughter began to fade away as they moved through halls and channels back to the surface.

The group stood in silence, horrified and confused. Withers had begun to try to wake Rogue, and Argiopé was shivering, holding Caballeron’s front legs. He did not even care. The creature he had seen had been grotesque and ominous, but the news it bore, if true, was even more threatening.

Only the armored mare moved. She stepped past the others, inserting an earpiece with a large orange crystal mounted in the center into her ear.

“Mother,” she said in her people’s ancient tongue, one that not even Caballeron would understand. “There’s been an incursion. We’ve lost half the equation. The operator is unknown.” She paused, listening to the response. It took a long time to come. “Acknowledged, beloved mother,” she replied. “The alternate plan shall be enacted, as per your will.”

Chapter 18: A Visit from a Crow and a Rat

The rooms of the hotel were small. Too small, in fact. Daring Do was not able to bear sitting in it any longer, so she had moved herself instead to one of several small chair around a table that had been placed haphazardly on what amounted to little more than a landing on an otherwise narrow and winding staircase. Her notes lay in front of her, and she was in pain.

Structurally, her injuries had been improved. She had long ago learned that wherever there was the option to, it was best to take up residence in a hotel where at least one of the staff had some level of medical training. In this particular hotel, those qualifications fell to a massive and gruff unicorn with a shaved head who operated the front desk. He had apparently been a medic in the provincial guard, and it showed. He was as effective as he was rough. Daring Do’s wing had been relocated and bandaged behind her, and her ribs had been reassembled by the unicorn essentially grasping them with magic and realigning them to the correct location. That was a rare talent, but even rarer was the ability to actually knit bone. This particular unicorn lacked it. Although the bones were joined, they were still broken. Hence the pain.

So she sat, trying to remain still. Although she was incredibly tired, going to bed in this state was almost impossible. That, and the night before she had woken up with her head buried in Rainbow Dash’s chest fluff, which was ridiculously embarrassing. The night had grown late to the point where Celestia was beginning to raise the sun. Workers at the hotel would soon be arriving, and the night clerk would be going to bed.

A door opened on the top floor. A moment later, Rainbow Dash looked down the stairs. Her mane was still wet from having just taken a shower. Seeing Daring Do, she proceeded slowly down the steps, making slight sounds with every one.

“Ow. Ouch. OW. EEP. Ow,” she moaned. “Wow. I haven’t been this sore since my first week in the Wonderbolts. I feel like I got…well, beat up by a minotaur. And a wizard. And a giant spider. And a robot.” She looked down the last few steps. “How do you do this every day?”

“Practice.”

Rainbow Dash stretched, cracking her back audibly. It was admittedly an adorable sight. “Still working on those pages?”

Daring Do nodded absently rather than lying. “Yeah. Look at these lines.” She pointed at an exceedingly thin line that ran through several of the rubbings. “It doesn’t seem to be part of the text or images, and it’s almost too thin to notice. I wonder what that is…” Her aside was punctuated by a vigorous yawn.

“Are you coming to bed?”

Daring Do shook her head. Doing so was painful. “Not yet. You go ahead. I’m just going to stare at it for a bit. Who knows? Maybe something will come to me.”

Rainbow Dash gave her a concerned look but smiled anyway. “Sure. Hey, if you need anything? Like, if there’s another robot or something? Just say the word. And I’ll punch it. Okay?”

Daring Do nodded again, and Rainbow Dash departed up the stairs. Watching her go, Daring Do sighed. When she had first met Rainbow Dash two years earlier, the mare had reminded her of herself. Now the similarities were even more clear- -as well as several key differences. Daring Do had desperately wanted to avoid putting another pony in danger, and yet she just had. Rainbow Dash had done splendidly, and yet somehow Daring Do felt deeply troubled by her own indiscretion.

The wind was harsh and frigid. It brought with it a strange and terrible smell, one produced by a toxic atmosphere dying of endless ionization: like choking ash, decay, and burning metal. The air was toxic; a single breath would have been fatal to any creature with organic lungs. Yet Daring Do continued to breath, inhaling the stink of a dead world.

She initially found herself in the center of a sandstorm. Fear filled her, as she knew sandstorms well, and that if one was caught in one their chances were limited if they did not find shelter. Except there was not shelter. Even without seeing the world around her, she knew. There was no place to hide from the destruction.

Then in an instant it cleared. The dust froze in the air for a moment, and Daring Do saw that it was not sand. It was crystals. Tiny ones, almost microscopic. They glimmered in a strange light, and then fell to the ground as the shadows approached.

With the opacity of the air gone, Daring Do could see the land around her, and she cried out in terror for reasons she could not understand. Stretching in every direction were plains of crystal. It spread endlessly in every direction, perfect, regular, and ordered. Yet the remnants of the world could still be seen amongst it. In the distance there was something that had been a city, its towers long since abandoned and burnt out. They were being overgrown and consumed by endless living crystal. Like the cities, the rest of the world was dead. There was no life. No life could exist. The crystal had made sure of it.

Lightning flashed in the sky. Endless lightning, etching its way across the sky in numerous colors. The upper atmosphere was completely ionized with magic; no sunlight- -if this world even had a sun- -could reach the crystal below. But it did not care. It glowed from within.

As her eyes came into focus, Daring Do saw the center of it all. Rising from the crystal stood a single, vast structure. Her mind rendered it as a tree, although it was not one. No tree could exist that was so many miles high, stretching into the atmosphere and filling it with lethal magic and radionuclides.

That was when the shadows came. The planet was dead. It could not support life. Yet they had persisted, laughing as they forced their own world to burn. Their existence was impossible, and yet they continued to exist in spite of that fact.

Daring Do could not see them clearly. They were like shadows to her. Only occasionally would she see the glimmer of metal or the light of the strange and terrible spells that covered their armored bodies. They were immensely tall and thin compared to her. They were not ponies; they did not move like equines.

The shadows could not be seen completely, and yet Daring Do comprehended them. She saw their eyes, and understood that none of them would ever see again- -and yet they saw things that no sane being would even be able to begin to comprehend. Their bodies were withered but more than strong enough to stand in a world that abhorred all life. Inside their minds, Daring Do felt something she did not know the words to describe. The closest thing was laughing, endless hunger. It was a terrible thing, and Daring Do had to look away after only the barest of moments upon seeing it.

She watched them pass, toward the crystal tree. They saw it, and it saw them. They comprehended it, but it could not comprehend them. It did not understand, as it did not have the capacity to. Its mind was incapable of conceiving of the impossible, and of how this situation came to be.

The shadows did not care. Even as they faded into the distance, Daring Do could see them raising strange picks. Then the crystal understood, as it had been deceived. The atmospheres changed as the entire planet was overcome with fear, as it begged in a strange and incomprehensible language for its life.

Then came the screaming. It was louder and more terrible than anything Daring Do could ever have imagined. She pressed her hooves over her ears, but it did not stop the sound as the shadows cut into the tree, tearing into its immortal and indestructible flesh, rending pieces off for their own purposes. She could not block out the screaming of the tree, or the laughter and weeping of those who surrounded it.

Daring Do shot awake at the sound of screaming, only to find that the area around her was dead silent. She blinked, staring into the blackness, wondering where she was and how long she had been asleep. It also occurred to her that she was sweating badly, and still breathing hard. She had just had a horrible dream, although she could not remember it- -save for a single image of a metal hand holding a strange, gleaming pick.

The scream ripped through the night again. Except that Daring Do quickly realized that it was not a scream at all. She stood up and turned- -wincing with pain in the process- -to see a small black shape perched on the crooked railing of the staircase. It was a crow.

The bird turned to her, twisting its neck so that its pale yellow eyes could see her. Then it let out another quiet caw- -the sound Daring Do had mistook for screaming. Then the bird took flight, but not for very long. It landed slightly farther down the bannister and looked back at her, clucking quietly and expectantly.

“What the heck?” muttered Daring Do, rubbing her eyes. “How did a crow even get in here?”

The crow did not answer. It only hopped forward impatiently. Daring Do had the strangest sense that it wanted her to follow it, and she did so, although slowly.

Doing so was not easy. Sleeping sitting upright after both extreme exertion and several severe injuries had left Daring Do impossibly stiff; in addition, she had neglected to take the medication she used to keep her arthritis in check, resulting in her wings being completely frozen and aching with even the slightest motion.

Despite this, she followed the crow. She was not even sure if she was still dreaming. As she descended the stares, she paused to look out one of the dirty windows that overlooked the streets outside. She saw nothing but darkness, which made no sense. It had been sunrise when she had fallen asleep; even with the naturally dim streets of this area, achieving this level of darkness would have required it to be the dead of night.

The crow led her to the lobby, which turned out to be completely empty. The unicorn who normally waited behind the desk was nowhere to be found; he had either gone to bed or simply left. Behind where he stood, there was a dingy wall clock. Daring Do craned her neck to see it, squinting in the light of the moonbeams that shone through the windows.

“Gosh darn it,” she swore quietly, noting that the time was just past one o’clock. She had slept for twenty hours at least. Twenty hours spent doing nothing useful while Caballeron was getting closer to the Hand of Doom.

The crow did not seem to notice her dismay, or if he did, he did not care. He instead took flight toward the far end of the room, where he landed on the lid of a large clay pot. Daring Do did not know what purpose that pot had served, although she suspected it had something to do with the storage of pickles. She grimaced as the idea occurred to her that this particular bird was only trying to get her to feed it a snack.

Sighing, Daring Do walked quietly across the dark room to the large pot.

“You want food?” she asked the bird. “Fine. It’s not like I’m doing anything else anyway.”

The bird began tapping rapidly on the clay lid, urging Daring Do onward. She took her time, though. There was no sense in rushing; if the bird was hungry, he could wait a few more minutes.

When she reached it, the bird flew anyway and took a place in the rafters overhead. Daring Do slowly shifted the heavy lid off the pot and looked in.

Although it was difficult to see in the darkness, she quickly realized from smell alone that this pot was empty and had been so for a long time. It was meant to be decorative. Somehow, though, something was illuminating the bottom with a barely perceptible blue light.

Confused, Daring Do reached in and removed the object. She set it on the floor in front of her and leaned close, looking at it carefully. Then in an instant she realized what it was, and she immediately regretted every having touched it. Every drop of blood in her body went cold, and her pain suddenly seemed to become far more dull and distant.

“RAINBOW DASH!” she cried, not caring whether or not there were other guests in the hotel.

Something overhead thumped, and an angry and pained cry could be heard, followed by a door slamming and the rush of wings as Rainbow Dash descended the stairs at a speed so great she left a slightly luminescent rainbow-colored contrail behind her.

“What is it?” she cried, still clearly bleary-eyed and confused. “Where am I? Why is Rarity greasy? Huh? Who?” She turned her head to the wall clock and squinted. “What? If it’s one, why is it so dark in here? Did I go blind?”

“Stop talking! We have a problem!”

Rainbow Dash looked both concerned and indignant. “Can it wait?”

“I don’t know. Can it?”

Daring Do leaned to the side and revealed the object now sitting on the floor: a black cylindrical object roughly a food wide and a quarter that in diameter, the front of which was covered in a dimly-glowing display screen linked to the central tube by several thin wires.

Rainbow Dash’s eyes widened immensely as she realized what it was. “That- -is that a bomb?!”

“No, it’s a set of frilly blinders- -WHAT DO YOU THINK?”

Rainbow Dash’s wings extended in panic and she began to stamp her feet from fear. “Well- -what do we do? You can defuse it, right?”

“How the heck am I supposed to know how to diffuse a bomb?! What do I look like?!”

“You look like Daring Do!”

“I can barely read the numbers on the top! It’s displaying in ancient Solarian!” Daring Do very gingerly tapped the display, which was certainly counting down although in some kind of encrypted text. As soon as she touched the display, the entire bomb snapped in the middle. The metal casing retracted, pushing outward, to reveal the insides. Both she and Rainbow Dash jumped back, but it did not detonate.

Inside, it consisted of a slightly smaller glass cylinder that contained two triple-helixes of a glassy but luminescent substance within. Both of them linked to and formed a clasp around a piece of a pointed gemstone, which was glowing violent orange.

“Oh no,” whispered Daring Do as she recognized the piece inside it.

“What do you mean ‘oh no’? Why did you just say ‘oh no’?!”

“That’s a fragment of a phoenix star,” said Daring Do. She leaned back and closed her eyes, thinking for a moment. Then she sat up.

“What- -what does that mean?” stammered Rainbow Dash.

“It’s bad.”

“Then we need to get everypony out of here!”

“It wouldn’t help. That fragment alone could take out a city block. But there’s not just one fragment.”

“What- -what do you mean?”

Daring Do turned to Rainbow Dash, her eyes cold and fearful. “A phoenix star has between five and seven points. They’re magically connected, and they can’t exist very far apart- -that means this isn’t the only bomb.”

Rainbow Dash gasped. “Then we have to find the others!”

“There’s no time,” said Daring Do, her hopes falling as she translated the Solarian numbers on the display. “It’s too late. There’s no way we could search the whole hotel before time runs out.”

Rainbow Dash stared at the bomb, and then at Daring Do- -and a strange expression crossed her face. “I can,” she said, suddenly grinning even as her eyes betrayed her fear. “I can find them! I’m fast enough!”

Before Daring Do could stop her, Rainbow Dash accelerated. The force was so great that it produced a small explosion of its own, pushing Daring Do back and nearly deafening her. Before she even landed, she saw a rainbow trail pass by her, over the bomb. The bomb vanished in an instant as the contrail spread and moved throughout the lobby. Every door and case was suddenly thrown open, and office supplies and papers were strewn about. It only took a fraction of a second. Then the contrail went back upstairs.

Rainbow Dash was fast. Faster than anything Daring Do had ever witnessed, in fact. But there was no way she could be fast enough. There was no other alternative, though. If she failed, the hotel would be destroyed- -and her and Daring Do along with it.

Daring Do stood and stumbled toward the door. She threw herself against it, forcing it open and nearly knocking it off its hinges. As she did, she turned around and looked at the crow, still in the rafters. He seemed completely unperturbed.

“Are you going to go or not?”

The crow did not reply.

“Stupid bird,” muttered Daring Do. She then spread her badly injured wings and, despite the pain, forced herself to fly.

She had barely taken flight when a rainbow-colored contrail shot through the top of the building and shot directly upward into the night’s sky. In her head, Daring Do was counting the seconds. The fact that the hotel did not detonate as Rainbow Dash departed it indicated that she had indeed acquired all the fragments of the star, but she was out of time. The last second ticked out.

“RAINBOW!” cried Daring Do.

Her cry was drowned out by a massive explosion. The light struck before the sound, illuminating the entire city in blinding white light. The shockwave hit a fraction of a second later: a deafening rush of sound that nearly knocked Daring Do over.

For a moment, there was nothing to see. There was too much light. Then, as it faded into a dull fiery glow and as pieces of concentrated incendiary energy rained down over the city, Daring Do was able to peer up at the sky. Even in the brief time she had been given, Rainbow Dash had managed to get the explosive components high enough into the sky for them to detonate safely without injuring anypony on the ground. Despite that, Daring Do felt no joy. She only felt sick. It was impossible to tell if Rainbow Dash had managed to get away from the blast herself in time.

Then she saw it: a still-smoking pony-shaped object falling from where the explosion had occurred. Daring Do spread her wings and shot toward where the shape was falling, but the instant she started she knew that she would be slow. Rainbow Dash was falling too fast; she would reach the ground before Daring Do could reach her.

“Rainbow! RAINBOW! Wake up! WAKE UP!”

In the distance, Daring Do saw Rainbow Dash’s eyes open- -and then watched as the young mare clasped her wings close to her body, turning over gracefully in the air and suddenly snapping them outward just in time to pull up at the last moment before she struck a building. Daring Do smiled; as impossible as it had been, Rainbow Dash had succeeded.

Her smile did not last long. Down below in the city streets, she suddenly noticed a dark figure moving through the shadows, illuminated only partially by the now dimly glowing pieces of phoenix star descending from above. She was heading away from the hotel.

“No you don’t!” cried Daring Do, immediately knowing in her gut who was responsible for the blast. She pulled her wings together and began a sharp dive. It should have hurt, but she no longer felt any pain. Only the rush of the chase, the thrill of the adventure- -and righteous anger at this fool having put innocent ponies in danger. Including Rainbow Dash.

Daring Do swooped down in an instant and cut off the fleeing pony’s escape route. Her adversary was dressed in a black cloak and wore a mask that appeared to be completely opaque. The fleeing pony stepped back, clearly surprised, and turned with surprising agility. With one leap, she shot upward onto the roof of a nearby fruit stall. Her hooves barely made indentations in the cloth as she crossed it, heading toward one of the many thin alleyways that dotted the street. Daring Do knew those alleys well, and knew that they led to an indecipherable labyrinth of narrow streets for which no map existed. If the mare managed to reach that alley, she would vanish completely.

“No you DON’T!” cried Daring Do, unfurling her whip. She snapped it, and the tip flew outward, wrapping around the escaping pony’s ankle. The pony jumped up and twirled like a dancer. She raised one of her hooves and a long, narrow blade extended from somewhere in her sleeve. With a swift motion, she slashed at the whip. The blade sparked and cut deeply into it, but not all the way through. The mare had clearly not been expecting to encounter a whip made from the shed skin of a dragon, and her balance was thrown off completely when the end of the whip was not severed.

Daring Do took this as her chance. She yanked the whip backward with all her might. The force pulled her adversary from her perch, dragging her toward Daring Do. Daring Do pulled her head back, and before the pony could wing her blade a second time slammed her forehead into the pony’s mask, shattering it in a single impact.
The whole world went black, and Daring Do felt herself fall. Then there was nothing.

Chapter 19: Thoughts of a Pony, and his Changeling

Even if he had not been so deep underground, the sound of the blast would not have woken Caballeron. He was already awake, lying in bed and staring at the ceiling through the dim, fading light of a portable crystal lantern. He had paid to have beds brought down in advance, knowing that he and some of his henchponies might need to stay for some time. This did not mean that they were comfortable beds. In fact, they were relatively poor quality. Caballeron absently reflected on this, knowing that as a colt, he would have absolutely and categorically refused to sleep on any mattress that was not lined with silk and stuffed with freshly plucked Pegasus feathers. It was one reason why he had performed so well in his first year at university; unable to sleep, he had spent all his time studying instead.

Time had changed him, though. He had grown used to sleeping in the field, in the depths of rainy jungles, on high, cold desert planes, or bolted precariously to the sides of a mountain. He had traveled the world and slept in every kind of bed imaginable, waiting for the day when he would once again be able to afford a proper night’s sleep.

It was only a slight consolation that he was not alone. Argiopé lay beside him, fast asleep, clinging to his side. He had managed to feed her enough that she no longer looked like a disgusting insect. Instead of black chitin, she now had soft white skin and a long black mane. Still, she had expended a tremendous amount of energy assuming the form of a spider; her pony form was not complete. She was gaunt and pallid, and the foreleg that lay over Caballern’s chest was filled with strange holes. She did not have the energy to maintain the form that she usually did in this situation, the one that provided her with the most food.

Of course, Caballeron was not particularly in the mood for dealing with her anyway. He was lost in thought. Slowly, he turned his head to the side to where an exceedingly old but moldering nightstand sat beside his bed. On it sat a thick, spiral-bound book with a simple white cover. The albino Pegasus had given it to him, and opening it only confirmed his suspicious. Inside were copies of the rest of the rubbing of the Exmoori fresco.

They had been in possession of it all along. Yet, for some reason, they had initially only given Caballeron half. This was the reason he could not sleep. He was not sure why, nor could he fathom what reason they might have had- -and he was not sure he wanted to know. The job was supposed to be simple and straightforward, challenging only in the level of academic expertise it required and of course interference by a certain winged nuisance. But if that had been all, they would simply have given him both pieces.

He sighed, and Argiopé stirred. Her eyes were open- -in her present form, they had no lids- -but she was still clearly asleep. She smiled softly, and Caballeron pulled her closer. She tightened her grip. Despite being an insect, she was warm against the cold night.

Yet still Caballeron could not sleep. Thoughts of the white Pegasi and the text still dogged him. Worse, his mind wandered to the title of the binder. It had been rendered in an ancient language, a dialect of Solarian, one that supposedly no living pony was able to read- -save for Daring Do, who had long ago taught it to Caballeron.

The title was simple, even industrial, and in any other case would have been innocuous instead of sinister: “Binder One of Two”.

Chapter 20: The Mute

Daring Do awoke with a start, but then immediately lay back down. Even moving slightly felt as though somepony was attempting transform her into an alicorn by drilling a horn directly into her skull.

“Oh! Look! She moved! She’s waking up!”

Groaning, Daring Do opened her eyes and sat up very slowly. She was lying in a bed she did not recognize, but as she sat up she found herself facing Rainbow Dash. Rainbow Dash was still mildly charred, and her and tail were substantially shorter than they had been before. She also completely lacked eyebrows, the effect of which was that she appeared perpetually surprised. Of course, in this case, she actually was.

“Ugh…Dash, what hit me?”

“The head of another pony,” said a gruff female voice. Daring Do turned sharply- -a mistake that made her nearly swoon- -and saw that agent Sweetie Drops was sitting on a wooden stool. The earth pony dexterously unwrapped a sweet and put it in her mouth. With her other hoof she then held up a shattered mask. “And through an armored mask. A mask which, let me make clear, was somehow a telecommunications device and sensory apparatus. You know. With technology that shouldn’t even exist in Equestria at this point in history, that could be reverse-engineered slowly and carefully with exacting precision to help us determine exactly who made and was wearing it.” She turned the mask to that Daring Do could see the face of it, where the entire front of it had been reduced to a large hole. “Or we could have. If you hadn’t smashed it.”

“What are you even doing here, Sweetie Drops?”

Sweetie Drops sighed. “What? Does it look like I want to be here?” She pointed at her face. “Because if you think this is the look of somepony who’s happy, then that really does explain why you never got married, now doesn’t it?”

“I didn’t ask if you wanted to be here. I asked WHY you are here.”

“Because SOMEPONY flew through the streets screaming ‘Bon Bon!’, ‘Bon Bon, I need help!’.” She groaned. “I mean, I’ve had my cover blown before. But never so spectacularly.”

“I do do things pretty awesome,” said Rainbow Dash, shrugging.

“One, it wasn’t a compliment. Two, ‘awesomely’. Use a gosh-darn bloody adverb for once.”

“I have a headache,” moaned Daring Do. “Do you really need to use language that harsh?”

“You’re gosh-darn right that I gosh-darn do or you can go straight to heck with your bum on fire all the way. In case you didn’t notice? You got concussed. Very badly.”

“And I got blown up,” added Rainbow Dash.

“Clearly not very well,” muttered Sweetie Drops. She turned back to Daring Do. “For the record? Getting hit so hard you pass out is a medical emergency. Don’t worry, I checked. Your brain isn’t bleeding. Neither is the one in the head of the mare you hit.”

Daring Do gasped and her eyes widened. She ignored the immense pain. “Other mare.”

“Yeah.” Sweetie Drops threw down the destroyed mask and stood up. “Dash. You set this whole thing up. Lead the way. It’s about time I got some answers.”

Rainbow Dash seemed oddly stern. “Right,” she said.

She turned away and Daring Do stood up. They were no longer in the hotel, but rather in what seemed to be the offices of a large abandoned warehouse. From the scent in the air, Daring Do could tell that they were near the docks, nearly five miles from where they had just been at least.

“Where are we?” she mumbled.

“One of my safe houses. Don’t worry. You don’t need to worry about staying alert enough to stop yourself getting surrounded by explosives here.”

“Did you even see what kind of explosives those were?” snapped Daring Do.

“No. But I recognize the fireball. And from what Rainbow Dash described, one that was cut into several pieces.” Sweetie Drops’s brow furrowed.

“What’s wrong?”

“You understand how hard that is to do, right? Even just rigging a star like that to a bomb is almost impossible…but cutting it?”

“Yeah. I know. I’ve only seen it once.”

“Really?” Sweetie Drops seemed surprised. “Who did the cutting?”

“I don’t know. He wasn’t exactly around to tell me. It was part of a trap at least five thousand years old.”

“Daring Do and the Priest of the Phoenix,” noted Rainbow Dash. When Sweetie Drops glared at her, she chuckled awkwardly. “Sorry.”

“Needless to say,” continued Sweetie Drops, “there’s almost no one in Equestria who can cut a phoenix star. Only an absurdly skilled and steady mage, or rock ponies. And we keep good track of the rock-worshippers. We always have. There’s only one family of them left.”

“Wait,” said Rainbow Dash. “You mean the Pies?”

“No, I mean your mother. OF COURSE I mean the Pies.”

“Pinkie Pie wouldn’t do that! No way, she wouldn’t make a bomb! I mean, a confetti bomb…which can be pretty messy- -but not a REAL bomb!”

“Pinkie probably doesn’t have the capacity. We would be more concerned with Maud Pie in this case. But based on the number of pieces, I doubt she did it. That many requires a strong magical sustainment field.”

“And a phoenix star,” added Daring Do.

“Yes,” said Sweetie Drops, slowly. “Exactly like the one Caballeron wears on his wrist in the hollowed out body of an old watch. One that he was given as a graduation gift almost twenty years ago.”

“Do you think he did this?” gasped Rainbow Dash.

“No,” said Daring Do. “He wouldn’t.”

“I’m not so sure,” said Sweetie Drops. “But I am sure that he couldn’t. Not alone. So we need to ask somepony who knows.”

Rainbow Dash nodded and flew forward, reaching a door at the end of the dusty hallway and sliding it open. She gestured for Daring Do to enter, which she did.

What she saw was an old, empty office with a chair set up in the center. Sitting in it was a mare, her head slumped down over the tight rope that bound her to the seat. In fact, to Daring Do, she hardly looked like a mare at all: she was incredibly young, and had not yet completely outgrown the thin gangliness of a teenager.

The mare- -or filly- - had been stripped of her cloak and equipment, which were not in the room with her. Instead, she had been left wearing what appeared to be dark, form-fitting armor inlaid with silver that served an unknown purpose. Her mane was pure white, as was what little of her skin was visible on her face and fluffy wings. Exactly as Daring Do had expected.

“She looks like she’s tied pretty well,” said Daring Do, slowly.

“She is,” agreed Sweetie Drops. “Rainbow Dash did the honors.”

Rainbow Dash laughed awkwardly when Daring Do looked at her. “Well, you know. After reading your books, I wondered if I could get out of ropes like you can. But I had to learn knots first. And Fluttershy knows a LOT of knots. For some reason.”

“Huh,” said Sweetie Drops, approaching the bound pony. “I never pictured her as somepony who was into that sort of thing.”

“Into what sort of thing?” asked Rainbow Dash, confused.

Sweetie Drops did not answer. She instead approached the bound girl. Her motions were rapid, as though she were in a hurry, but Daring Do noted that she just barely put most of her weight on her left side. Ponies usually only did that when they would need to either dodge or land a punishing blow in an instant.

Instead of landing any sort of blow, though, Sweetie Drops lightly tapped the cheek of the young mare.

“Hey,” she said. “Wake up.”

The mare jerked slightly, and then lifted her head. She opened her eyes. Upon seeing them, Rainbow Dash cried out in surprise and jumped back. Daring Do, much to her chagrin, did so as well, although only on instinct. Sweetie Drops did not, although she did visibly stiffen.

The mare’s eyes- -if they could even be called that- -were enormous and gray. She had virtually no sclera, and what little she did was a dark, nearly black color. The center of her eyes was pale and metallic, and as Daring Do stared, she saw the motion of many tiny, incredibly intricate gears and watched as several separate irises per eyes mechanically adjusted themselves and the tiny lenses built around them.

“What- -what happened to her eyes?!” cried Rainbow Dash, still visibly upset by the sight. She was made more so when the mare’s eyes shifted just slightly so that some of her many reflective pupils were focused on Rainbow Dash specifically.

“They’re not eyes,” said Sweetie Drops, her voice grim. “They’re artificial. Implants.” She leaned closer. The mare barely reacted, instead staring forward stoically. “Incredibly detailed implants. I’d bet my best oats that she sees just as well with her eyes closed as with them open.” She pulled her head back and looked at Daring Do. “But the implications aren’t exactly pleasant.”

“What implications?” asked Rainbow Dash.

“That someone took the originals,” replied Daring Do, darkly.

All four of them fell silent. They remained this way for a long time, until Sweetie Drops sighed. “Well,” she said. “We might as well get to the interrogation.” She pushed her hoof hard against the side of the chair, causing the mare to tip. The mare either did not notice or did not care. “Right. I’m in a hurry. Just so you know, this isn’t my case. I’m working pro-bono here. But you put an incredibly powerful explosive device right in the center of a populated area. Do you have any idea how many ponies could have been hurt?” The mare did not react. “So. You can tell me a few things. Answer a few nice, friendly questions. Or...” she ran her hoof across one of the girl’s wings, and the girl shivered. “I’m going to have to hurt you.”

“Bon Bon,” protested Rainbow Dash. “No! You can’t do that!”

“I can do whatever I want,” snapped Sweetie Drops in return. “I literally have a license to. And if it means getting back home to Lyra? Sure. Even if it’s tough to watch.”

“But you can’t hurt her! Not while she’s tied up like that! It’s just not right!”

“I can and I will, if she lets me. I’m very good at this, Rainbow Dash. Ponies like to talk to me. Usually in under twenty minutes.”

“Well you’re not going to get anything out of her,” said Daring Do, grimly.

Sweetie Drops raised an eyebrow. “And why’s that?”

Daring Do approached the mare and put her hoof slowly to her chin. She half expected to receive a painful bite, but the mare was amazingly compliant. She allowed Daring Do to tilt back her head, exposing her neck- -and a number of perfectly straight, barely visible surgical scars over her larynx.

“Sweet Princess drippings,” swore Bon Bon, speaking in a whisper.

“What is it?” said Rainbow Dash. Her voice was quavering. She already knew.

“They made sure she couldn’t talk,” said Daring Do. “Not now, and not ever. Her eyes weren’t the only things they took. And my guess? They didn’t teach her to write either. Just to listen and follow orders.”

“That puts a wrench in the whole darn thing,” muttered Sweetie Drops. She frowned for a moment. “We can still ask yes and no questions, though.”

“To get what? She won’t be able to tell us anything we don’t already know.”

Sweetie Drops’s expression hardened. “And what, exactly, do you know?”

“I know who she’s working for, for one.” Daring Do faced the mare. “She’s a Questlord.”

For the first time, the mare seemed surprised. It was a difficult emotion to pick up on, considering how her eyes were perpetually wide. Daring do was still able to see it, though, and she instantly knew that she was right.

“Not possible,” said Sweetie Drops.

“It is. A pony like her attacked me in southern Equestria. He had the same mane, same coat, and I’m guessing the same eyes at one point. And he wore a Questlord insignia. She just came back to try again.” She faced Sweetie Drops. “I also know that they’re working with Caballeron.”

The color seemed to drain from Sweetie Drops’s face. “Do you have any proof of that?”

Daring Do nodded. “They had something. Some sort of automaton, or golem, or- -”

“Robot,” added Rainbow Dash. “It was a robot.”

“Sure. A robot. A robot that could respond to a Questlord sign. Sweetie Drops, I’ve seen a LOT of things in my life. But nothing quite like that. I’m sure of it.”

Sweetie Drops’s gaze slowly turned from Daring Do to Rainbow Dash and then back again. “Bucking lemons,” she sighed, sitting down. “Great. Just great. You know, despite your interference, this wasn’t going all that bad for me. We have witnesses that saw Caballeron robbing a private artifact collection. I had him. All I needed to do was track him down and arrest him.”

“It’s not that easy. Not at all.”

“Not for you. But for me? A week, tops. Then we’d have him, and I could actually sleep at night without having nightmares about what my agent looked like after he was done with her. We’d have nailed him. But now you tell me this?” She shook her head. “That means we’re all up to our neck in pony plops. And Caballeron is well over his head.”

“It’s bad, isn’t it?” said Rainbow Dash. Her wings quivered, and Sweetie Drops made a face. “Sorry. It’s finally starting to get exciting!”

“If by ‘exciting’ you mean ‘horribly dangerous’, sure, why not.” Sweetie Drops pressed her hoof against her temple and rubbed it slowly. She paused for a long moment before speaking again. “Alright. I’m going to tell you some information. The classified time. As in, top secret. As in, if the agency knew I’d told you? You’d both be hung. By your wings. And used like piñatas.”
“Why does that make me want to know even more?” whined Rainbow Dash, clearly repulsed at the idea of being suspended by her wings. Daring Do was also repulsed, but hid it better. She had already been in that situation, more than once.

“It concerns the Questlords.”

“Wait,” said Rainbow Dash. “Should we be saying top secret stuff in front of, you know…” She pointed at the silent mare and whispered. “Her?”

Sweetie Drops and Daring Do both looked at the mare. “I don’t think it matters,” said Daring Do. “She already knows everything about the Questlords. Don’t you?”

The mare did not nod or shake her head. She only stared forward, blankly, as if she was still expecting to be treated harshly and had resigned herself to several hours of pain at least.

“Officially,” began Sweetie Drops, “the Questlords don’t exist. They never did. They’re a myth based on an ancient order of unicorn knights that eventually fell into obscurity. Any exploits they had are just old stories blown out of proportion by whispered retellings.”

“But that isn’t true,” said Daring Do. “Even I know that. They were an ancient order of knights opposed to the rule of Celestia. They were defeated completely in year 1307 pre-modern, over two thousand years ago.”

“That’s a really long time,” added Rainbow Dash.

“Except they weren’t crushed,” said Sweetie Drops. “Not completely. They still exist.”

“How?!”

“That’s what we don’t know. Now, pay attention. This is not common knowledge. This is considered Level One Heresy. You don’t even get wing-hung for this. You just disappear.”

Rainbow Dash gulped, but did not protest. Sweetie Drops took that as permission to continue.

“The Questlords were, and are, a terrorist group. We believe that their goal is to eventually overthrow Celestia. And all alicorns by extension.”

“Even Twilight?”

“Is she an alicorn?”

“Bon Bon, you know her! You literally live four blocks away from her! Of course she is!”

“Then they want her gone. By any means necessary.”

“And you haven’t done anything about them?” asked Daring Do.

“We can’t. Not without admitting they exist. That and we have no idea what they even look like. No one knows. A Questlord has never been captured alive, and no part of their organization has ever been studied in detail.”

“Well then it’s a good thing we caught one, isn’t it?” Rainbow Dash pointed at the bound mare, who was staring with great interest.

Sweetie Drops stared back. “We don’t know how their organization is structured, how many there are, or who they are. But we do know one things. They are invariably unicorns. Without exception, ever. See, they don’t accept new members. Every Questlord is a member of a bloodline that stretches back to their heyday. This is a Pegasus.”

“So was the one who attacked me before,” noted Daring Do. “But it was just like the legends said. Power-steel.” She pointed at the broken mask on the floor. “Just like her.”

Sweetie Drops stared at the mask, her face growing grim. “Yeah,” she said. “I know.” Her eyes met Daring Do’s. “And I’m sorry. But if this concerns the Questlords, I have a duty.” She slowly turned toward the bound mare. “I need to get more information.”

The mare watched them. She really had little other choice, as the eggshell-colored earth-mare had been correct. Even when blinking, she could still see. She would see every inch of what they would do to her, just like she could see the beating of their hearts and count the individual hairs on their flanks.

The earth-mare took a step forward, and the white mare braced herself, feeling her own heartrate quicken. She had been trained- -extensively- -on how to deal with this sort of adversity, but it was different in person. It was far more terrifying to not know the pony on the other side, and when she would stop- -if at all. It was so much easier when it was a brother or a sister.

Still, she held onto her resolve. She had failed her mission and brought great shame to her kind. Indeed, she reasoned that she likely deserved this for such poor performance. She would not fail again. They would receive no information from her. Not that there was any she could give them. The mare could neither write nor speak- - nor scream. Her vocal cords had been surgically severed for that very reason.

As the earth-mare approached, time seemed to slow down. The white mare first thought that this was simply an aspect of her fear, of her mind instinctively trying to savor her last few seconds without pain. That thought was soon dispelled, though, as time continued to slow- -until it outright stopped. The earth-mare had stopped, frozen mid-step, the pale brown Pegasus trying to stop her path, inexplicably defending the albino. The rainbow-maned mare, likewise, had ceased motion mid-flight as she rushed to her friend’s aid.

A thin projection of magic suddenly became visible, forming strange, barely perceptible components of a weightless, intangible machine. Then, from behind the earth-mare, another pony appeared. When the Pegasus saw him, her thoughts did not immediately skip to fear. Rather, to confusion. She did not understand how he was moving, or why he looked so strange, as though his large but sickly yellow eyes were on the sides of his head instead of the front. Or why she could perceive no single heartbeat in his chest.

The black unicorn approached her, and the white Pegasus became aware of a strange ticking sound. It was like a clock, but infinitely more unpleasant. The Pegasus could not ascertain its source, even as her incredibly perceptive eyes scanned the room.

Then, suddenly, she felt a sensation of falling, as if the chair had fallen out from under her. She opened her mouth and screamed silently from surprise, even though she quickly realized that the chair had never once moved. There had been a sense of inversion, but no real change in position.

She looked around, and saw that somehow she was somewhere else. The room was like it had been before, but now it was dim and gray, and the air was unnervingly cold. What had once been an office was rendered as a round room, its walls made of stone that was somehow paradoxically both cyclopean and monolithic. The floor was smooth but stained in strange, fading colors. There was no ceiling save for blackness.

She heard voices. They sounded distant at first, but grew closer. The mare did not know what language they were speaking, or if it was a language at all.

Then the owners of the voices appeared, and the Pegasus gasped audibly. They were ponies, but also somehow not. They were tall and gaunt creatures that stood on the edge of the room or up on some unseen second level in the darkness overhead. Their bodies remained largely obscured, save for their eyes. They had terrible eyes. Large, colorful, but with sharp, inquisitive gazes- -and an astounding lack of anything at all behind them. They were not living creatures.

Space distorted in the center of the room as though a door had been slipped imperceptibly between the air. The black unicorn appeared again. His eyes were closer than normal, but still wide spaced and ugly. Unlike the owners of the eyes that stared back from the perimeter of the room- -owners who were universally about three times taller than the black unicorn- -he was solid and real.

“Welcome,” he said. As a black unicorn, the mare had expected his voice to sound suave and inviting. Instead, it was more like a croak and came out unusually high.

“I will tell you nothing,” she replied with conviction- -only to cry out in abject surprise. Had she not still been bound, she would have grasped her throat. “I- -I can- -I can talk!”

The unicorn smiled. His smile was hideous. It was too wide, and he had neither teeth nor gums. “Of course you can,” he said. “Injuries…or surgeries…obtained in our world do not affect you in this one. And vice versa.”

“Who are you?” the mare demanded it. This was the first time she had ever spoken or heard her own voice, and she deemed that she sounded unpleasantly haughty. In this application, though, such a voice was appropriate.

“That hardly matters. You don’t really care.”

“No. I don’t. It changes nothing. I will tell you nothing.”

The stallion’s eyes glimmered. “Would you like to know something interesting?”

“No.”

“To be expected,” he sighed, his smile fading on his strange mouth but not on his equally strange eyes. “Your inferior race hardly cares about learning. No curiosity. Content to eat clouds or whatever it is the sky-kind do these days. Nevertheless, you are…well…a captive audience.” The mare groaned, but the black stallion continued. “Did you know that I am absolutely incapable of regret, remorse, pity, sympathy, and empathy? These aren’t just aspects of my profession. These are genetically heritable traits. They are the reason why I am superior to you.”

“You do not look superior.”

His smile fell completely. “No. Because I chose to look like one of your kind.”

The mare was confused. “I am a Pegasus.”

The smile returned. “Are you?”

The black stallion approached slowly. Next to him, something else appeared. A piece of equipment. The mare did not know what it was, but she saw gleaming blades of strange metal and thick, incredibly long needles.

“What- -what is that,” she stammered, trying to retain her composure.

“You do not have the vocabulary to express its function or purpose,” said the stallion dismissively. “It’s a tool of scientific inquiry. Something your kind lost when you allowed the White Queen to take power.”

“I don’t understand.”

The stallion laughed, or did something like laughing. It sounded more like a low shriek. He leaned in close, and the mare gagged. He stank horribly. “Yes you do. You know this will hurt. Quite a bit. More than is possible in your world, I think, because termination is not really possible in this one. Probably. But, as I’ve said, this is not a problem at all.”

“Not…a problem?”

“No. I feel no empathy. So this will not bother me in the slightest.”

He began to move the device closer. It had powered up, and was moving in strange and grotesque ways. The mare stiffened and tried to lean away, and did her best to be stoic.

“Do what you will,” she said, nearly spitting in his face. “I will tell you NOTHING.”

“Tell me?” The stallion looked confused. “Mortal, there’s nothing I want to know that you could tell me. I already know who you’re working for, why, and what your role is. Hint: it’s tiny and inconsequential. If this renders you insane, no one will care. Because you are disposable. Both to them and to me.”

“You’re lying.”

“Quite possibly. But it hardly matters. Don’t expect questions. What I really want to know is…deeper. I want to know what that body is. How it ticks. How it was ASSEMBLED. And what exactly you are. I want the secrets of your biology. Your mind- -like the Questlords- -are inconsequential to me.” He smiled pleasantly. “So please try to enjoy this as much as I’m about to.”

The machine moved even closer, and tears began to stream down from the white-mare’s red eyes. The tall, thin beings began to grow closer. Not to intervene. They were curious. The mare could see their limp, nonfunctional wings, and their long spiraled horns glimmering with flecks of strange metal. They never blinked. They never tried to stop him.

“You- -you will get nothing- -nothing- -NOTHING- -”

Sweetie Drops took another step forward. Daring Do was now clinging to one of her legs, proving once again that the stereotype of Pegasi being almost ridiculously weak was invariably true.

“You know at your age you probably have osteoporosis,” she said as Rainbow Dash grabbed one of her rear legs. “Please let go. I’d hate to break one of those hollow little bird-bones.”

“You won’t touch her, Sweetie Drops, I won’t- -”

“DARING!” cried Rainbow Dash, pointing at the white mare.

Daring Do turned her head to see that the Pegasus had suddenly gone into convulsions. Her body was struggling against her bindings, nearly tearing them free. Her head had rolled back, and she had started to foam at the mouth.

“Buck! Poison!” cried Daring Do, rushing to the mare’s side.

“Impossible! I checked her when Dash brought her in!”

The mare opened her mouth as if to let out a long and terrible scream of agony. All that came out was a quiet, barely audible hiss. The mechanical irises in her eyes spasmed, and suddenly she went limp.

Rainbow Dash gasped. “Is- -is she- -”

Daring Do put her hoof on the girl’s neck, praying to every Princess she knew that the situation was not as bad as it looked.

“No,” she said, sighing. “She’s still with us.”

“She’s…she’s saying something.”

Daring Do looked down and lifted the Pegasus’s mane. Her lips were indeed moving, repeating the same word over and over again.

“What is she saying?” asked Sweetie Drops. “I read lips but I don’t know the language.”

“I do,” said Daring Do, feeling herself grow cold. “She’s saying ‘mommy’. Just ‘mommy’. Over and over again…”

Chapter 21: The Case for Daring Do

An all-white Pegasus moved silently through a deep underground corridor in what had once been part of a vast subterranean network. She, like all her sisters and brothers, bore no name. There was no point in having one. Apart from components that had been added to them- -or taken away- -they were supposed to be interchangeable.

This particular mare had been the one who originally brought a contract deep into Andalusia, and who had returned a second time to deal with perceived inconsistencies in Caballeron’s behavior. Like names, her kind had no rank; they were considered all equal. Being in charge of the operation, though, she had become the center of coordination. Although there would be no permanent hierarchy, the others had wordlessly and implicitly accepted her command until a Higher arrived to take it from her.

Two ponies approached her from behind. Both were Pegasi. One was a pale colored Pegasus with a stern expression and a Mohawk. She was nude. The other was an armor-pilot, and her helm had been removed to reveal a face identical to that of the other two but with a short-cropped mane. Her head looked tiny compared to the strange proportions created by the heavy armor.
The white mare did not need to turn around turn around to recognize them, nor did the near darkness of the dank hallway make it difficult for her to see. Although she did not possess optical implants, her eyes- -as well as the eyes of all her siblings who were fortunate enough to have kept their originals- -were distinctly sensitive.

“Sisters,” she said. She slowed and addressed them properly, looking into each of their eyes. She was sure to show distinct disgust when she saw the greenish contact lenses that the Mohawk-bearing Pegasus was wearing. “Sister,” she said, “why are you still wearing those? And do you insist on being painted that gauche color? I would think you find it unbearable.”

“It does not wash out,” replied the mare. “As for the lenses, I believe that despite my identity I have developed some level of report with these ponies. They interface more successfully if I look more like them.”

“You mean less like us.”

“It’s the eyes. The red eyes. It disturbs them.”

The commander paused for a moment. “Very well,” she said, before turning to the mare in heavy armor. Despite the fact that all of them looked identical, it was possible to tell that she was a much younger sister. This was likely her first mission. “And you?”

“Reporting on our sister’s mission.”

The commander knew exactly what she was speaking of. “Go on.”

“An explosion was reported and observed. However, no damage was reported. Analysis suggests that an unknown individual was able to move the devices to an altitude greater than their blast radius before they were able to detonate.”

“Impossible. The operation protocol required a timing of less than two minutes on the timers. Just enough for her to clear the blast radius. The time period is too short for intervention. Even if she was discovered, which I doubt.”

“And yet it did occur.”

The commander paused. “Well, then. I will need to hear her report on her failure. This will likely lead to her being sanctioned. Quite harshly.”

“The sister tasked with the operation has not yet returned to the rendezvous point.”

The commander’s eyes narrowed. “Which implies that she was captured.”

“It is likely. We cannot currently locate our target or her associate either. I believe that they are connected.”

“And tracing spells?”

The armored mare shook her head. “Something powerful is interfering. Not just here, but throughout the city.”

“I would surmise it is the work of the crow-wraith,” suggested the Mohawk Pegasus. The commander agreed, but did not say so out loud. She did not need to.

“Fine,” she said. “The operation was a failure anyway. We will consider that sister terminated. We will not waste resources on recovery. She is of no consequence anyway.”

“Who among us are?” said the unarmored mare, her tone strangely dark.

“My point exactly,” replied the commander.

In exact unison, they began to walk with the commander, following behind her. The armored pony would likely go with her, although the one with the Mohawk was probably just going in the same direction. None of them minded the others’ company; they in fact preferred it.

A fourth pony appeared from one of the perpendicular hallways. He was a stallion dressed in the same armor as the others. His eyes were perfectly red, and his face expressionless.

“Sisters,” he said.

“Changeling,” said the commander.

The stallion frowned. “Changeling? I don’t understand. It’s me. Your brother.”

“No,” said the armored mare. “You are not.”

The stallion’s face contorted into a grimace of hatred. “You shouldn’t be able to tell.”

“Nevertheless, we can,” sighed the commander. “Despite being identical and lacking names, we are quite able to distinguish each other. And those that are not us. I suppose it is the same way that you distinguish your own kind. Or did, before the rule of Thorax.”

Argiopé continued to glare, and then shifted. Her armor degraded and contracted into a black dress with orange ornaments on her shoulders while her body grew more narrow and severe as it developed stripes. She rendered herself as a zebra.

“We are not all ruled by Thorax.”

“Really,” said the commander. “Then what ruler do you serve?”

“I serve Caballeron. Very well. And very often.”

“A strange choice indeed.”

The armored mare stared at the changeling. “You can replicate our armor?”

“Yes,” growled the changeling. “Of course I can.”

“But no doubt not its function,” noted the commander. “It would be like that dress you’re wearing now. Just modified flesh. If that fabric were cut, you would bleed. And on that note, a warning: attempt to mimic us again, and I will personally have you injured. In a way that will heal during your next molt, but not until then.”

“I’m more durable than I appear.”

“And we are very good at our jobs.”

The zebra-changeling stared at them, her blue-green eyes narrowing. “What is wrong with you?” she asked, slowly.

“Nothing in particular.”

“I can’t see into your minds,” continued the changeling, as though this were an accusation of severe cunning. “I can’t see what you love, who I should become for you. Why?”

“Our skulls are plated with a dimeritium-titanium alloy. It blocks telepathy. And bullets.”

The changeling continued to glare. “I don’t like you,” she said, slowly.

“Yes. It’s apparent.”

“Don’t touch Caballeron,” she hissed.

“I have no intention to. None of us do. If it helps, we tend to find your kind somewhat unattractive.”

“My kind? What do you- -”

“I was on my way to visit your master. I would like you to accompany me.”

The changeling still looked suspicious. “Why?”

“Because you are either his chief lieutenant or a pet. I don’t know which.”

“That isn’t a real answer.”

“No. It isn’t.”

The commander began walking. The Pegasus with the Mohawk nodded and passed down the perpendicular path that the changeling had come from, no doubt going to find her contact within Caballeron’s organization, a certain sunglasses-wearing eccentric. As the commander began to leave, the armored mare fell into step behind her- -and the changeling walked beside her.

“He loves me,” said the changeling. “You have to understand that.”

“And it is that love that fuels you. Yes, I am familiar with your biology.”

“You don’t love anypony, do you? Maybe you were lying about that alloy in your head. Maybe I can’t feel anything from you because you cannot love.”

“I do love.”

“What do you love?”

“My sisters. My brothers. Our mother.”

The changeling smiled viciously. “Oh. So it’s that kind of relationship. How perverse.”

The commander did not react. She saw no reason to. The changeling did not especially bother her, at least not any more than the cold and damp and lack of sunlight did. They, like her, were just environmental aspects. Aspects that Caballeron had bought and paid for, dampness and all. And no doubt aspects that he considered to be the manner of assets that one would consider a means and not an end.

Caballeron was working in a large chamber at the end of the corridor. It had once clearly served as a storage room, and a number of enormous but empty casks stood off to the side, gathering dust and cobwebs. Rogue and Withers were actively checking them for contents, while Zel was sitting in a chair in the corner, patiently peeling an apple.

A table had been moved to the center of the table, and several lanterns had been placed around it. Strewn about its top were notes, images, diagrams, and a recently acquired spiral-bound book. It was obvious that Caballeron was working hard on the translation, and obvious from his face that the process was going poorly.

When the commander entered, Zel looked up. He looked upon the commander with dismay, but his eyes quickly moved to Argiopé and his expression became more quizzical. “There indeed is a peculiar sight/for a bug, you look good in black and white.”

“I always look excellent,” retorted Argiopé, pointing her nose upward. “And at least I can speak properly.”

“Hmm,” said Caballeron. “Yes. Clearly. Clearly your bickering is helping me get my work done.” He feigned laughter. “I just don’t know what I would do if you BOTH SHUT UP!”

Argiopé frowned, but did as she was told. Zel shrugged and returned to his apple. Rogue and Withers seemed to be immensely interested in a large cask that was quite clearly split in half.

“Caballeron,” said the white Pegasus, stepping forward to the edge of the table. “Is the translation coming along?”

Caballeron looked up and glared at her. His eyes flashed with hatred, but the mare did not care. She was more concerned with something of much greater significance: a brief glimmer of suspicion.

Then Caballeron sighed. “Would you like to do them yourself, perhaps?”

“We are paying for you to retrieve the artifact.”

“It’s called the ‘Hand of Doom’,” corrected Caballeron.

“A hand?” asked Argiopé.

“Don’t be a moron. It’s not literally a hand; it’s meant as a metaphor. For a device that can bend fate.” He brushed some of the notes with his hoof, causing them to flutters and slide randomly across the table. This did not seem to bother him. “It is an artifact of immense power but apparently one that cannot be handled by just anypony. The Exmoori feared it greatly, but were attempting to find a way to wield it.”

“Why?” asked Argiopé.

“To change fate.”

“To what end?”

“Considering that they are extinct? I would suppose it was that particular fate, actually. Clearly they failed.” He pointed at the images in the spiral-bound book. “Going over all of them, it is apparent that this device was theoretical. There is no mention of this system ever being deployed.”

“So you have made progress,” said the commander.

“With regard to meaningless history? Yes. Yes I have. If I was still tenured at the Institute I could present this data for the next ten years and be famous across all of Equestria.” His gaze hardened. “But that doesn’t pay, does it? This is all pointless until that artifact is in my hoof!”

“Agreed. Our employer is growing impatient. I understand that the spear you spent so much of your funds on retrieving is imperative for opening the Exmoori security system, assuming it is even still functional.”

“They are ALWAYS functional,” sighed Caballeron.

“We have the key, to use an analogy. But where is the door? What aspect of this diagram is a map?”

“None of it.”

“Impossible.”

Caballeron glared at her. “Are you telling me that you can do this job better? I’ve checked and checked again, and then a third time just to be sure. These images? There is no map.”

“But we supplied you with the missing half.”

Suspicion flashed in Caballeron’s gaze again. The commander took note of it. “Yes. You did. And most of it is indecipherable iconography. The mechanism for translating it does not exist. The texts that would state it were lost centuries ago. I believe it has to do with cosmology, and the inner nature of the structure. But no part of it is a map. Of this, I am sure.”

“Then we are at an impasse.”

“Yes.” Caballeron paused. “But not one without a solution.” The commander looked up inquisitively. Caballeron continued. “That…thing. The disgusting collection of filthy birds.”

“We believe that it was a type of magical construct.”

“And I don’t really care what it was. What concerns me is that it mentioned that my rival is in possession of this text.” Caballeron placed his hoof on the spiral-bound book.

“You mean Daring Do.”

Argiopé hissed softly, and in the rear of the room Rogue and Withers winced.

“I do,” said Caballeron. “And just as every ancient tomb or temple is guaranteed to have working traps even after millennia of disuse, Daring Do is guaranteed to be able to find her way to get into it.”

“You said that her half of the text contained no map.”

“I did. But it contains a number of text that I do not have the ability to translate. Pictographs, insignias, a language that varies depending on context and intended meaning. What I know is technical. Their descriptions of the device they were attempting to build, the machine. The part I cannot read is its history, its purpose- -and the context necessary to understand where it is.”

“So you are saying that she is the superior translator.”

Caballeron grimaced. “No. What I’m saying is that we need to employ her as…a secondary source.”

“Collaboration will not be possible,” said the commander suddenly and harshly. “We believe she is either being outright controlled or highly influenced by opposing and incompatible elements.”

“Nor would she be willing to work with us anyway,” spat Argiopé. “Nor would I tolerate it…”

“I was not proposing working with her.” Caballeron laughed. “I hardly doubt there would be a situation dire enough for me to even remotely consider that! I only mean to imply that if we were able to procure her notes? I know that she always keeps them with her. If I could see what she had done with her half…well…translating the remainder would be foal’s play.”

The commander stared at him for a long moment. “I have spoken with my employer,” she said. “And I have been instructed to take a greater role in this operation. I will be working closely with you from here on in.”

“That wasn’t the deal!” growled Caballeron.

“You will be more than compensated.”

“For being turned into a glorified consultant?”

“You will not be glorified. Your task will be to complete the translation of this text and then to lead us to the Hand of Doom. Only when it is in our possession will you be paid.”

“It doesn’t matter if she’s offering manure or honey,” said Zel from across the room. “Don’t forget, pony, you still owe me a lot of money.”

“Yes,” said Caballeron through gritted teeth. “I know that.”

“My role does come with perks,” said the commander. “Clearly you cannot be trusted to pick your own mercenaries. You take the lowest bidder too easily. My brothers and sisters will therefore serve in this capacity. As will I. My employer will spare no expense in retrieving this artifact. State what you need, and we will acquire it.”

Caballeron stared at them for a long time. Then he chuckled. “You’re almost making this too easy,” he said, softly. “I’m apt to get nervous.”

“There is no need for that. You are still quite valuable to us.”

“For now,” he sighed. His green eyes met the commander’s red. “Bring me Daring Do, and her notes.”

“Doktor,” gasped Argiopé.

Caballeron smiled, although it was strangely hollow. Any joy within it was masked with something darker. Argiopé understood this, but the commander did not. She had seen too few smiles in her life to know the difference. “Do not worry, my dear.” He lifted Argiopé’s hoof and kissed it. “A reconciliation for my terrible treatment of you these past few days, you will be permitted to extract the information from her if she refuses to cooperate.”

“And if she does cooperate?”

Caballeron shrugged. “Then you can have her afterward, of course.”

 

Chapter 23: Translation

The door creaked as Daring Do pushed it open. There was little light on the far side, save for a dim beam of light coming from the overcast sky that barely managed to push through a tiny, dirty window only to illuminate the thick dust that was floating lazily by.

The white Pegasus with the strange eyes was exactly where they had left her. She was still tied to the chair, and did not even look up when Daring Do entered. Daring Do found it only slightly unnerving, as she was unable to tell if the mare was awake, asleep, or staring at her with profound but expressionless hatred.

“Hey there,” she said, entering the room slowly. The mare did not move, although several tiny lenses and metallic irises in her eyes adjusted their angle to track Daring Do. Whether that really meant anything was unclear; Daring Do was almost sure that her eyes would track even if they were removed from her skull. Her gut told her that the Pegasus was watching, though. Watching and perpetually listening.

“You’ve been here for over a day,” continued Daring Do. “I talked to Sweetie Drops. She says we need to leave you here, tied like that. That you’re a danger to us. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

The mare made no motion. Daring Do took that to mean that she was refusing to reply.

Daring Do sighed. “You tried to blow me up. Frankly? It’s not the first time. And I’d be okay with it, too, if it had just been me. But you put a lot of innocent ponies in danger. Including Rainbow Dash.” She paused, and shook her head. “And you can’t tell me why you did it. I guess it was orders. Or maybe you had some reason to that you thought was right. But it’s not right. You’re a Questlord? A knight? Well then act like it. If you have a problem with me, take it up with ME.” Daring Do reached into her pocket and drew a knife. She carefully unfolded a long, gleaming blade. “Because if I have a problem, I’ll take it up with you.”

She took a step forward and the mare stiffened almost imperceptibly. Instead of struggling to get free, the white mare seemed to be steeling herself defiantly, as if she knew what was coming but was prepared to take it. Seeing a girl so young respond like that made Daring Do feel nauseous.

The knife slid forward. The Pegasus closed her eyes, proving that she did in fact have eyelids. The gesture was pointless, though; no matter what, she would be able to see what was being done to her. Her eyes quickly opened wide, though, when she saw the ropes falling away from her and the knife imbedded in the wood of the chair.

Her motion was almost instantaneous. In a flash she was across the room, as far away from Daring Do as she could get. She stood on a counter, hunched in a defensive position. There had been debris throughout the room, and she had taken an old pencil in her mouth as if that would be enough to defend herself. With the amount of training she seemed to have, Daring Do reasoned that it probably was. And then some.

Despite seeing this, Daring Do smiled. “Yeah. I know what it feels like to be tied up. Believe me.”

The mare did not reply, as she could not. However, she seemed to grow more confused as to what was going on.

“It’s fine,” said Daring Do, closing the pocket knife and putting it on the table beside her. “Sweetie Drops can kiss my cutie mark. I’m not going to keep you here, why would I? You don’t know anything, and I haven’t told you anything important. So just go home.” Daring Do turned and left the room. She paused at the doorframe, though. “Oh. You can keep the knife if you want. Yours broke on my whip. And don’t bomb me again. I don’t like it.” She paused again. “Also, you’re probably hungry. We’re having late breakfast downstairs. We have soy bacon. You can have a meal before we go.”

Daring Do then finally left. The Pegasus stared, dumfounded for a moment. Her grasp of the language that Daring Do was speaking was impeccable, as was her comprehension of countless others. Despite that capacity, though, she could not comprehend what was happening.

Yet, after a few moments, she found that she really could smell soy bacon, as well as eggs and something with peanut butter- -and found herself carefully and silently walking toward the door, following the exact same path that Daring Do had taken, ultimately toward the same destination.

“I can’t bucking believe this,” growled Sweetie Drops. She pressed her hoof against her temple, right on the spot where she would have had a horn if she were a unicorn. “Let me get it straight. One more time. From the top. You untied her, and let her go. Just like that?”

Daring Do leaned back on her chair. “Forgive me for having empathy. So what if I let her out anyway?”

“So what- -did you listen to anything I said?! She’s a well-trained operative from a terrorist organization of Templar knights obsessed with overthrowing the current government! One who, might I remind you, tried to turn you AND four city blocks into cinders less than twenty four hours ago. And you untied her.”

Daring Do leaned forward over the table. “Yeah. I did.”

Sweetie Drops looked as though she was about to scream, and even opened her mouth to do so, but then winced in pain and clutched her head again. “Ohhh…gosh darn it all to heck, this migraine. This is why I work alone.” She smiled humorlessly. “Yeah. Sure. Okay. Let’s just let her go back and report the location on an agency safe house, plus my identity. Sure. I can deal with that.” She suddenly became serious. “Except for the fact that she is STILL HERE!”

Sweetie Drops motioned toward the rafters of the warehouse’s main room. The white Pegasus looked down, glaring back at her over a pile of bacon she had set out in front of her. That had in fact been the first thing she had done: after tentatively entering the room, she had rushed the table and shoved her face in the bacon like a wild animal, stuffing her face with it completely. Then she had flown up into the rafters, spat it out, and proceeded to eat it slowly and carefully one piece at a time, her eyes never leaving the ponies below.

“It’s not like we don’t have more bacon,” said Rainbow Dash. “And eggs.” She picked up an especially large boiled specimen and turned to the rafters. “HEY! Catch!” She threw the egg, which passed in a long arc. The white Pegasus caught it easily and swallowed it hole, shell and all. “Whoa!” laughed Rainbow Dash. “Like a beast! That’s what you need in the morning, you know. Protein! If you stay for lunch we can carbo-load you!”

“Why are you not more concerned about this?!” snapped Sweetie Drops.

Rainbow Dash seemed both taken aback and slightly offended. “Because if Daring Do trusts her, so do I. And, you know, you were kind of being a jerk.”

“A jerk? For trying to keep us from, you know, NOT getting flambéed?”

“Bon Bon. Come on. Look who you’re talking to. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m an Element of Harmony. I know a thing or two about friendship, and I know that being NICE to a pony can go a long way. Trust me on this.”

“That is not how the world works! That isn’t how ANY of this works!”

“Anyway, there’s three of us,” said Daring Do. “And only one of her.”

“No. We basically have one and an eight of me plus one of her. FOR NOW. And if more show up?”

“Then we give them soy bacon,” suggested Rainbow Dash, pulling the remainder of the pile toward herself. Sweetie Drops slapped her hoof. “OW!”

“Don’t bogart the bacon! I need to eat too!”

“Then eat!”

“I’m too angry! Because you both are clearly too incompetent to do much of anything properly!”

Still in a huff, Sweetie Drops sat down at the table, her front legs crossed. She had turned several shades of red, and was quite clearly fuming.

“Why does she call you ‘Bon Bon’?” asked Daring Do after a moment.

“Because it’s my code name,” muttered Sweetie Drops.

“It’s cute. You should use it more often.”

“It’s not supposed to be cute.”

“So, you got to choose it?” asked Rainbow Dash. “Why’d you use ‘Bon Bon’ then? Why not something cool, like…like Shadowblood Saberstroke or something?”

“I can’t believe you just said that to me.”

“That reminds me,” said Daring Do. She turned her head upward toward the rafters. The Pegasus sitting up there looked back at her, a strip of soy bacon dangling from her mouth. “You. Do you have a name?”

The Pegasus stared back silently and without moving for several seconds. Then she shook her head. It was a tiny and rapid movement, one that could almost not be seen. What it meant, though, was clear.

“You have to have a name.”

Another long pause. Then another tiny shake of the head.

Rainbow Dash gasped. “You know what that means?! We get to name her! Oh! Oh! Can she be Shadowblood Saberstroke? Shadowblood Saberstroke! Please please please! It would be sooooo awesome!”

“No it wouldn’t,” snapped Sweetie Drops. “If she’s going to be around me I get to decide what I want her to be called. If she has to be called something, we’re going to call her ‘White’.”

“White? Seriously? That’s so stupid! You can’t name a pony after her color!”

“Why? Would that be inappropriate, RAINBOW Dash?”

Rainbow Dash opened her mouth to interject but quickly closed it and blushed when she realized what Sweetie Drops meant. Daring Do ignored her and instead looked up at the rafter. “Alright. Your name is White now. If I say that, then it means I’m talking to you. You got that?”

A tiny nod.

“Good. Now eat your bacon, we have business to discuss down here.” She shifted the paper plates of food and made way for her notes and diagrams, which she quickly spread out across the table.

Rainbow Dash stared at them for a moment, and then looked up at the Pegasus that they were now calling White, and then at Daring Do. “Um…Daring Do. I mean, I’m not doubting you or anything, but do we really want to go over that now? You know, with her watching?”

“What they did to her goes two ways. Who cares if she sees something? She can’t tell anyone. Ever.”

“Now you’re just being cynical,” sighed Sweetie Drops. “Correct, but still cynical.”

“When was I ever not?” Daring Do neatened the pages on the table and opened her book. “I couldn’t sleep. Again. So I was going back through the etchings again…”

Rainbow Dash gasped. “And you found something?!”

“Yes. Quite a bit of something. See, Exmoori language is a lot more complicated than most languages. The characters it uses change depending on the context and subject matter, and the context isn’t intuitive, at least not to us.”

“Meaning?” asked Sweetie Drops.

“Meaning that different parts translate differently. Al’Hrabnaz- -” She paused, staring at Sweetie Drops, looking for signs that she might not recognize the name.

“He was a wizard who studied the Exmoori,” explained Rainbow Dash. “That’s how we’ve been translating- -”

“I know who he was,” snapped Sweetie Drops. “I’m just incredibly surprised that you were stupid enough to even get in a room with a book written by one of the Dark Thirteen. There’s a reason the agency burned them all. Well, most of them.”

Rainbow Dash gasped. “Don’t tell Twilight!” she whispered.

“Continuing,” grunted Daring Do, “A lot of these pages are a kind of schematic. For some sort of machine. It’s all math, or their version of it, or technical descriptions. I can sort of get the gist of it but I can’t translate it.”

“Not even with the books?” asked Rainbow Dash.

“No. And that’s the weird part. Al’Hrabnaz was apparently some kind of mathematician, and he focused his efforts on what he interpreted as math. And Exmoori is obtuse enough that his theorems match up. But it wasn’t math.”

“Then what?”

“Poetry.”

Sweetie Drops balked. “You’ve got to be kidding me!”

“I’m not,” replied Daring Do icily. “I can’t translate the actual words and descriptions of the machine, but the rest makes up a kind of epic poem. A history. The pony who originally carved this thought it was important. And I agree with her.”

“What kind of story is it?” asked Rainbow Dash, slowly.

Daring Do sighed. “A sad one.” She straightened her notes and opened them to the page where she had compiled her translation. “It’s their history, told as a kind of fable.”

“Great,” sighed Sweetie Drops, leaning back and picking up a muffin from the table. “Story time.”

Daring Do glared at her, but started reading anyway.

“It states that long ago, there were six brothers. Translated, their names were Born-of-Sky, Born-of-Soil, Born-of-Ice, Born-of-Darkness, Born-of-Magic, and Born-of-White-Steel. I don’t know what the words are, just the pictographs. They represent what the Exmoori considered the six fundamental races of ponies, meaning equines bearing true cutie marks. The Exmoori were Born-of-Ice.”

“Ha!” laughed Rainbow Dash, pointing at Sweetie Drops. “You’re born of soil!”

“Rainbow Dash!” snapped Daring Do.

Rainbow Dash immediately stiffened. “Sorry.”

Daring Do glared at her for a moment, and then continued. “These brothers existed in a constant state of upheaval. Endless war, stretching back to the Beginning, which also translates as Towerfall. I don’t know why. Then…” Daring Do shifted the images, showing a page that seemed by its appearance alone to convey violence and chaos. “An immense cataclysm occurred, or what the Exmoori considered a cataclysm.” Daring Do slid a familiar page into place, one with a pair of strange symbols not unlike those of the hexagram of races. “This cataclysm gave rise to the first alicorns.”

“Or the cataclysm WAS the rise of alicorns,” said Sweetie Drops silently. Daring Do did not respond except with a nod, as she had been thinking the same thing.”

“So,” said Rainbow Dash, slowly, “there were once more alicorns?”

“No. Just two. The Exmoori called them ‘Burning-Sunder-Agony’ and ‘Rending-Glow-Warmthless’. Which in their language translates literally to ‘Sun’ and ‘Moon’.”

Sweetie Drops leaned back. “Then we can guess where their allegiance was. With no one at all.”

Daring Do nodded. “When the alicorns came, they asked the Six Brothers to join them. Born-of-Magic, Born-of-Sky and Born-of-Soil pledged their undying loyalty to the Sun, while Born-of-Darkness pledged hers to the Moon and only the Moon.”

“And the other two?”

“They pledged themselves to no one. They continued the war. But the alliance was uneasy, and it started to change both of them. Born-of-Ice became smarter, and Born-of-White-Metal became even more cruel than he had always been. Eventually it broke down. The poem blames it on Born-of-White-Metal, that he was overcome by fear and greed, deciding to sell his brother to buy his own freedom.”

A small, nearly silent gasp came from the rafters, but it was drowned out by Rainbow Dash’s reaction. “That’s terrible!” she cried, standing up so fast that she nearly sent a bowl of scrambled eggs across the table. “They were brothers! BROTHERS!”

“It’s an analogy,” snapped Sweetie Drops. “One faction took the coward’s way out. And do you know the thing about cowards? They’re the ones who end up surviving.”

“Except they didn’t,” said Daring Do, slowly. She shook her head. “That’s the sad part. The iconography of this story, it isn’t used for new things…it means that it’s told as if this happened an incredibly long time ago, millennia before the fresco was carved.”

“Wait,” said Rainbow Dash. “You didn’t finish the story! What happened to the brothers?”

Daring Do paused. “The author…the original author, who carved the Exmoori version of the fresco…she signed it. As the last living Exmoor pony.”

The room fell silent, and it was silent for what felt like several minutes before Daring Do was able to continue. “That’s what the Hand of Doom was for. This machine, the thing that’s described here, it was designed as a desperate effort to save their species. It was a weapon. The Exmoor pony who built it was also the one who made this carving. The last.”

“And she never completed it,” reasoned Sweetie Drops. “Or else they would still be here.”

“No,” said Daring Do. “She finished it. But she had a change of heart. Apparently, she came to realize that the cost of activating it would be incomprehensibly high. And after a lot of thought, she decided that she could not activate it. That, in her own words, ‘The Exmoori race should enter the Forever-Seep with honor and dignity, not like this, not ever’. Then she swore a powerful oath that she would remain by her machine, even in death, to guard it and prevent it from ever being activated by the unworthy.”

“And let me guess,” sighed Sweetie Drops. “Caballeron thinks he’s worthy.”

“Or the pony he’s working for does,” suggested Rainbow Dash. She had begun to nervously eat boiled egg after boiled egg.

“Does it say what this weapon does?” asked Sweetie Drops, picking up several of the rubbings and notes but clearly finding herself unable to read any of them.

“It might,” replied Daring Do, “but I don’t know. What I do know is that we have to stop Caballeron from getting to it. No matter what.”

“Well, do you have a lead?”

“I do, but it’s not much.”

“It’s better than nothing,” said Rainbow Dash. “And besides, your hunches are always right! Every time!”

“If only,” muttered Daring Do. She sighed and sat up. “The artifact that Caballeron stole. Do you know what it is?”

“The Hurricane Spear,” replied Sweetie Drops with ease. “The personal weapon of Commander Hurricane herself.”

“Oh mane,” whispered Rainbow Dash, her eyes growing wide. “I didn’t know that it was THAT. That is so. AWESOME.”

“They say the spear is sharp enough to cut through anything in the world,” said Sweetie Drops.

“So,” suggested Rainbow Dash. “Maybe Caballeron needs to cut through something? Like an unbreakable door into the treasure room with the Hand, or a safe or something? Or take down some sort of giant temple guardian? Oh that would be so cool…”

“I doubt it,” said Daring Do, rubbing her chest. The Spear was indeed genuine, as she had no doubt that Wun would have made absolutely sure that it was real. She trusted her so-called sister at least that much. Yet, despite that particular part of its legend, it had broken her ribs without even so much as wrinkling her shirt. “The Spear is dull. But I don’t think that’s the part of the legend that Caballeron was interested in.”

“There’s another part?”

Daring Do nodded. “Now, this is just folklore. But the spear has a second name. ‘The Spear of Extinction’. Some ponies claim that Commander Hurricane used it to slay the last Exmoor pony in existence.”

“My grandmother used to tell a story like that,” said Rainbow Dash. “Except it wasn’t a pony. It was some sort of demon thing.”

“If they fought a war against Celestia?” Sweetie Drops leaned back on her chair. “Yeah. What else would history remember them as?”

“This record,” said Daring Do, tapping the notes, “it was signed by a pony calling herself the last Exmoor pony. This was the pony that Hurricane slew. There’s a connection. I don’t know what it is yet, but heck, I didn’t even believe that story until now.”

“So, what?” asked Rainbow Dash. “What do we need to do?”

“We have to go to where the spear was used. To where the last Exmoor pony fell. Right now, that’s our only lead. If there’s going to be a clue to what happened and what this all means, that’s where it will be.” She looked up at all of them. “Pack your bags. We’re going to Lyskymm.”

Chapter 24: The Peaks of Lyskymm

The high atmosphere thudded as three Pegasi exited the Jetstream. The turbulence was high, but all three of them kept their wings clamped closely to their bodies. Almost as soon as they exited, though, each of them instinctively became aware of the fact that they were descending far too fast, and each spread her wings in turn.

To Rainbow Dash’s surprise, the air gave way far too easily. Her vision began to become dark, and her breathing accelerated. She knew what this meant, and compensated by beating her wings faster and faster while forcing herself to take deep, controlled breaths. It was a gamble, but she was more than athletic enough to handle it. White, likewise, managed to sustain her flight, despite being substantially younger than Rainbow Dash and insisting on wearing her dark-colored armor.

Daring Do, though, descended rapidly and suddenly. She could not move her wings fast enough to support herself in the thin atmosphere, and it was apparent that every deep breath she took was agonizing against her broken ribs. Rainbow Dash quickly descended, performing a lead maneuver to support Daring Do with her wake. White, seeing this, performed the same maneuver on the alternate side.

“We’re above the safe operating ceiling,” said Rainbow Dash, her voice carrying strangely through the cirrus clouds and frigid air. The cold itself was dangerous; she could feel her feathers starting to ice up. “Where the heck even are we?”

Daring Do regained her composure and spread her wings into a gliding position. “See for yourself,” she said.

They broke through one of the thin high-altitude clouds. Rainbow Dash could not help but gasp as she immediately realized why the air was so thin. Stretching out below them was an enormous mountain range: a wall of jutting crags covered in ice and lifeless rock. The chief among them was a vast pair of peaks that stretched up through the clouds to a dizzying height, a single two-pointed mountain that even at her altitude Rainbow Dash had to look up to see the summit of.

“No way…”

“Lyskymm,” said Daring Do. She tilted her wings and banked in a wide but graceful arc. “There’s a village on the south side, on the tree-line. Aim low, the Jetstream converges over the top of the mountain. If you get sucked in…”

Daring Do did not need to complete the sentence. Rainbow Dash knew what would happen. High-altitude flying had been covered extensively in her Wonderbolts training, and while she excelled at it- -as she did at everything involving flight- -she knew how easily it could become incredibly dangerous incredibly quickly.

They continued to sail downward, arcing past the mountain. Their descent speed was substantially higher than Rainbow Dash generally used, but because of the size of the mountain it hardly felt as though they were moving at all. In fact, despite the constant need for perfect wing-control, the whole of it was beautiful. Cold, of course, but beautiful nonetheless.

At a certain point on the mountain, the ice and rock faded to harsh tundra and then to rough scrub. Just below that stood a line of trees ringing around the mountain, and obscured on a tiny portion of that slope, Rainbow Dash saw a village tucked away in the greenery. All of it seemed to be built on a highly sloped plane, but far less sloped than its surroundings: on one side it dropped off to a sheer cliff, and on the other braced against one heading upward toward the twin peaks of Lyskymm Mountain.

Daring Do saw it too, and she descended toward it. Rainbow Dash did as well. White followed behind. Although her skill was impressive for her age, her style was crude and it was obvious that she was trying exceedingly hard to mask the fact that she was having trouble breathing.

They touched down in a rocky clearing surrounded by trees. When Rainbow Dash saw them up close, she immediately shivered. They were unpleasant and strange: bizarre cedars with dark, gnarled trunks and strange leaves. They stood silently in the cold, looming over the clearing and the paths through their naked and curving stems. The whole forest was dark and foreboding.

They paused for a moment to catch their breath. The air was still thin, even on the ground, but it was more tolerable. The cold, though, was not. Rainbow Dash ruffled her wings around her to try to keep warm, and Daring Do pulled up her collar. White did not react; her armor was apparently more than capable of regulating her temperature.

When Rainbow Dash finally stabilized her breathing- -which, her being Rainbow Dash, took under ten seconds- -she stared up at the looming peak overhead and laughed. “It’s so high! Look at that thing! Look at my neck! Look! I’m staring straight up at it!” She laughed again. “I can’t believe we’re actually here!”

“I can’t believe you followed us all the way here,” said Daring Do, addressing White. “I told you, you can go home. Or at the very least stayed in the safehouse.”

White shook her head. She made little in the way of expressions, but seemed adamant about this.

“Fine,” said Daring Do, shrugging. “You have every right to be here. In fact, frankly, as a Pegasus you should be here.”

Rainbow Dash blushed. “Well…I’ve never been here either…”

“Not surprising,” said Daring Do. She began walking up the steep clearing toward a thin break in the woods that housed a slow-moving stream. White stopped to take a drink from it, as did Daring Do when she reached the upper part of it where it dribbled over some cold, jagged stones. When she was finished, she wiped her mouth and continued. “Most Pegasi don’t come here anymore. They forgot, or don’t care…or just can’t get this high.”

“It’s not that high.”

“Not for you, no. But not every Pegasus is as athletic as you are, Dash. Look at me. My wings just can’t keep up the speed. Another five years, and I won’t be able to make the trip either.”

“Don’t say that! You were fine! Just a little tired, but that happens to all of us! Especially since you haven’t been sleeping- -White! Write that down! You can’t be a good flyer unless you get good sleep!”

White stared, confused.

“She can’t write,” said Daring Do.

“Well I mean metaphorically, then! In your mind!”

They continued past the stream and into the woods. Rainbow Dash immediately fell silent. The looming trees and their gnarled trunks grew even more unnerving once she was amongst them. The shaggy cedars were joined by a different plant with thin, twisting trunks and only a few glossy leaves. Together they formed an unpleasant twisting grove, one that was completely and utterly silent save for the sound of the wind rushing through the mountain range.

The soil was rocky, but there was a clear- -albeit thin- -path. Daring Do led the way, stepping over rocks and roots with ease that made it seem as though she had trod this path before. Perhaps many times.

“It’s not just sleep,” she said. “Or me. It’s decay.”

“Decay?” Somehow, the word made Rainbow Dash shiver, especially in this particular forest.

Daring Do nodded. “The Pegasi that inhabited this mountain in ancient times were stronger. That’s the way things usually go. As time moves forward, ponies get weaker and weaker.”

“Are you sure the air isn’t getting to you?”

“Yeah.” Daring Do sighed, and then pointed at the highest peak on the mountain. “Do you see that?”

“Yeah.” Rainbow Dash gasped. “You don’t mean- -it isn’t- -”

Daring Do nodded. “The Peak of Lyskymm. A location only accessible to Pegasi. The most defensible position in all of Equestria- -and the site center of the ancient Imperium Pegasus.”

“Commander Hurricane’s castle,” gasped Rainbow Dash, her eyes wide with awe.

“At one point, yes. But not anymore. Not for a long time. It’s all just ruins now. Nopony goes that high. The last ponies left living on this mountain live in this village. And…”

“And what?”

“And they don’t like outsiders.”

The trees suddenly broke and the village came into view. While it had been apparent that it had been built on a slope from the air, the effect from ground-level was even more pronounced. The whole of it seemed to nearly be cut into the side of the mountain. Tall, thin buildings rose up amongst trees, and while they were not decaying they appeared somehow wrong. As if they were too dark, and had too few windows. They loomed, peeking out of the forest that seemed to have given birth to them. The whole thing gave the impression of an abandoned town that had been long-ago overtaken by the forest.

Except that it was not abandoned. There were few signs of life, but there were some ponies moving throughout the streets. Or, more precisely, a combination of ponies and goats.

The combination was surprising. Rainbow Dash was not terribly familiar with goats, nor did she especially have a desire to be. They were strange to her, with wide, staring eyes and oddly aggressive postures. The ponies that surrounded them were not much better. They were invariably Pegasi, although even the tallest of them was barely two thirds of Rainbow Dash’s height. Each of them were oddly stocky with small, even tiny wings, and they were invariably dirty. What was most striking, though, was the fact that each and every one of them was distinctly and almost clinically ugly.

“Wow. What happened here?”

“Time,” said Daring Do. “The Pegasi who built the Imperium left long ago. They migrated away, and their cities fell into ruin.”

“Why?”

“You know why. You must have heard the Hearthwarming story.”

“About how Equestria was founded.” Rainbow Dash looked up the slope and flapped her wings against the cold, trying to keep them from going numb. She shivered, and not just from the chill. This was a warm summer’s day; she could barely imagine what this place must have been like when the windigoes had started to circle the peaks, howling and bringing grave storms. “Yeah. I know.”

“And then the Union of the Three Races.” Daring Do shrugged. “The Imperium collapsed. Pegasi didn’t need an empire anymore, especially one centered way up here. Hurricane was the last Commander to make her home on Lyskymm.”

“And these ponies?”

“Those that never left. Or their descendants.”

White pointed at a passing goat. It glared at her, and she glared back with her strange eyes. The goat hardly seemed to care.

“And the goats?” asked Rainbow Dash.

“They’re goats.”

“I know that. Why are they here?”

“Because it’s where they live. Only Pegasi and mountain goats can breathe the air up here. It’s too thin otherwise.”

“That’s going to be a problem when Bon Bon gets here.” Rainbow Dash looked around. “If she even can.”

“She said she didn’t want to take a Pegasus-drawn cart.”

“Then how’s she going to get here?”

“I don’t know. But I wouldn’t put it past her to find a way. Heck, she’ll probably try to climb this thing. Showoff…”

Daring Do stopped suddenly and eyed a shop recessed into the bottom of one of the buildings. The roof was supported by a pair of gnarled, cut tree trunks, and an iron sign hung from the wooden roof. It was swinging slowly in the breeze, and the language written on it was incomprehensible.

“What does it say?”

“It’s a shop,” said Daring Do. She approached the door. “If we’re going to work here, we need some supplies.”

“No we don’t. I mean, its right there!” Rainbow Dash pointed at the top of the mountain. “We can eat lunch and get up there easily!”

“No. We can’t. Unless you have a winter jacket stuck in your mane. White probably could. Whatever that Questlord armor is seems to be really darn expensive.”

White looked at them, and then shook her head slightly. She did not want to leave Daring Do.

“Then we stop for supplies.”

Daring Do pushed open the door. Inside was dusty and smelled like old wood. There was little light inside, but it was warm, having been lit by a stingy fire burning gnarled logs. The shopkeeper was standing behind his desk; he was a goat. His wide eyes seemed to stare at the entire room equally blankly.

“Goats can own shops now?”

“Don’t be a speciesist,” snapped Daring Do. She approached the goat. The goat’s wide and watery eyes immediately flicked toward her.

“I need winter gear,” she said.

“Bah?”

Daring Do winced, and put her hoof on her face. “Of course you do. Hold on.” She took a deep breath and leaned back. Then, much to both Rainbow Dash and White’s surprise- -and actually that of the goat as well- -she let out a long, strange “Bahhhh?”

“Bahhh?”

“B- -AAAHHhhh.”

“Bahhh bah!”

“BAH!”

Rainbow Dash did not know whether to be impressed or terrified that Daring Do might have completely lost her mind.

“You…speak goat?”

“Of course I do. You read ‘Daring Do and the Mare of the Silver Mountain’?”

“Where you seduced a goat? But I figured that was a goat who spoke…you know…words.”

“Don’t be silly. Goats don’t speak pony. BAAHHRRRGG!”

The goat gasped, and then suddenly opened its mouth wide and let out an horrible scream.

Daring Do replied in turn. A second goat- -a she goat, technically called a nanny- -poked her head out from the back room. She was silent for a moment before letting out another horrible scream.

“Dang,” hissed Daring Do. “They’re trying to goat my groats. Dash, this is going to take a while.”

“Then I’m going to go outside. Because that screaming? Yeah, it’s super weird.”

“Take White with you. She needs to stretch or she’ll cramp.”

“You heard her,” said Rainbow Dash, tapping White on the shoulder as the mare was staring intently into the fire. “Let’s take a walk.”

White opened her mouth as if to protest, but being unable to looked to Daring Do. Daring Do nodded, and White hesitantly followed Rainbow Dash out the door and back into the cold.

Chapter 25: In Town

The town was incredibly silent. It did not help that Daring Do had been correct: the ponies- -and goats- -present clearly did not take well to outsiders. They mostly glared, and a few spat. Never once did their eyes leave the blue and white Pegasi walking down their streets.

“Wow,” said Rainbow Dash. “Just imagine if we were unicorns or something. No wonder nopony comes here. It’s almost as bad as Griffonstone.”

She turned to see White’s reaction, and saw that there was none. White appeared to be looking at nothing in particular, although with her eyes there was no way for Rainbow Dash to know whether or not she was able to see the entire panorama without directing her attention to any specific point.

“So,” she continued. “Questlord, huh? Is that something you just walk in and apply for, or one of those things they recruit for?”

White still did not respond.

“Hey, and on that subject. I don’t mean to be rude, but…why are you here anyway? I mean, you tried to blow us up. And failed. Which I guess is why you don’t want to go home. But...”

At this, White turned her head. She stared at Rainbow Dash for a moment and then aggressively motioned to the scars on her throat.

“Yeah. You can’t talk. I know. I’m just trying to make conversation. Well, one-sided conversation I guess.” Rainbow Dash sighed. “Sorry. I’m making you feel bad. You know, I actually had to go through training about this. It’s part of the Wonderbolts public-relation’s course. And you’d think I know. I have a sister who’s disabled too.”

White stared at Rainbow Dash, her eyes suddenly growing wide. She mouthed something, but Rainbow Dash neither read lips nor was able to speak the language that White had attempted to project. Instead, White pointed backward in the direction where Daring Do was no doubt still screaming at a goat.

“What? Oh, no no no no no. No. Definitely not. She’s not my sister.”

White frowned. She made a motion with her hoof, rising it above where it was in an arc.

“She’s not my mother either.”

White pointed to her eyes.

“Well…yeah. But that’s just a weird coincidence. A lot of ponies have the same eyes.”

White moved her hoof to her mane.

“And the same mane. That’s not uncommon either. And besides, hers isn’t Rainbow Colored. That’s how you know I’m related to someone. We have these epic manes. My dad had it, and his mom, and her mom, and her dad, it goes back forever. But I’m not related to Daring Do. I mean, I wish. I’m not even related to my sister!”

White now seemed thoroughly confused. Rainbow Dash just sighed. “It’s complicated. What about you? Do you have sisters?”

White paused for a long moment, and then nodded.

“Brothers?”

White nodded again.

“Wow. Big family. That must be pretty nice. Siblings, you know, they’ve always got your back.”

White’s expression grew stony. She went back to looking at nothing in particular at all.

“Well, unless your older. Then it’s a different dynamic, you know? Like me and Scoots. She’s only a little bit younger than you are. I’ve been trying to teach her, you know, how to be awesome. Like me. And trust me, she’s a natural. So what if she can’t fly. I have lots of friends who can’t fly.” She paused, and then sighed. “I just wish she could see it that way. Well, maybe she’s starting to. I really wish I could go on adventures like this with her. This is all just so cool!”

White turned back to Rainbow Dash. She gave a tiny, weak smile.

“HA!” cried Rainbow Dash, causing White to jump back. “A facial expression! I knew Daring Do was right!” She punched White in the shoulder, which caused White to take an immediate defensive stance. Rainbow Dash hardly seemed to notice. “See, you’re not evil. And you’re a good listener. I’m sorry you can’t talk, but that’s okay. I think we can probably be friends. Maybe.”

White raised a pale eyebrow.

“Meaning,” said Rainbow Dash, slowly. “Your flying. Your style’s too sloppy. Probably good for flying near the ground but not great in the open sky. Somepony trained you, but I’m just worried you aren’t able to learn new things and accept advice. That’s kind of important, you know.”

White continued to stare. Rainbow Dash reared up and shook her mostly numb wings, flapping them in the air and taking flight. “Come on,” she said. “Unless you want to wake up too stiff to reach yourself for preening, we need a cool-down lap. Let’s see what you can do.”

For a long moment, White continued to stare. Then she spread her own wings from under their slots in her armor and took flight, joining Rainbow Dash on a trip around the ancient Pegasus mountain of Lyskymm.

Chapter 26: Targeted Arrival

The thin grasses and cold rocks of the tundra stood silent, blowing gently in the breeze. There was no sound, nor were there any living animals to make noise. Overhead, the sky was growing dark with thick clouds that swirled upward toward the twin-peaks of Lyskymm. The sight would have been picturesque or even beautiful had there been any ponies present to witness it.

Snow began to fall, slowly drifting downward as the sky began to vibrate with strange energy. Suddenly orange lightning flashed through the clouds and the temperature dropped precipitously. Space in the field began to distort as the air began to solidify- -and then the fabric of reality itself cracked violently as it was torn open from within.

A portal opened, and a pony stepped out. Her long white main trailed behind her, blown by the ionized wind of the spell, and her red eyes scanned her surroundings.

“Incursion coordinates are confirmed,” she said, softly. She then stepped onto the stony ground. Behind her, more ponies followed. The select group of brothers and sisters she had taken with her, as well as Caballeron and his associates. Those of them who were not Pegasi were wearing portable oxygen masks

Caballeron stared at the portal almost in awe. “This shouldn’t even be possible.” He sidled up to the nameless Pegasus commander. “How did you accomplish such a feat?”

“I doubt you have the background understanding necessary to comprehend the nature of geosynchronous targeting satellites,” she said, curtly.

The rest stepped through, and the portal began to close. Caballeron stared at it wistfully. “With that power, I could reach anywhere in Equestria at any time. All these years…she’s always been able to get there first. If I could open portals…”

“Which is a moot argument. The required spell takes an incredible amount of power and skill. Even among the Highers, it is considered nearly impossible.”

Zel, who was shivering violently, glared at her. “So knowing this basis/you bring us here, of all places?”

“As I’ve said. Our employer will spare no expense at retrieving the Hand of Doom. You asked for the mare called Daring Do. She is on this mountain.”

“Can you be sure?” asked Caballeron.

“Yes.”

“Then we need to set to work finding her, now don’t we?”

“Are you in a hurry?”

“According to our deal, I do not exactly get paid hourly.”

“Nor do I. I will accelerate the process.”

“Good. Now, from the distinctive peak of this mountain I can surmise that it is Lyskymm. Daring Do will most likely seek out the nearest village, which legend holds is on the north side- -”

“We are familiar structure of the mountain. And we will handle the operation.”

“You don’t know her as well as I do!”

“That is not the point.” The commander moved incredibly slightly and a large armored stallion approached Caballeron. “We permitted you to come with us because of your insistence, as a sign of goodwill. However, until the Hand is recovered, your safety is our top priority.”

Caballeron’s eyes narrowed. “This is MY task, MY ‘operation’!”

“No. You are the only one of us- -and perhaps the only pony in Equestria- -who can translate our sketches. You must not be injured or captured. You are a critical resource.”

Caballeron sneered. “I see. Captured. Exactly as you are doing.”

Argiopé approached him from the side. For the occasion, she had taken the form of an extremely shapely goat. She put her cloven hoof on Caballeron’s shoulder. “Herr doktor, please listen to her. It would require less work from you.”

“It’s not a matter of work, it’s a matter of pride! I was promised independence in my doings, and yet here you are attempting to tell ME how to do MY job!”

Argiopé hugged his neck. “Perhaps it is a matter of framing? You wouldn’t think twice about sending myself or Rogue to do a task for you. Think of them as your workers. Other henchponies. Like me.”

Caballeron did not miss a beat; he had grown accustomed to dealing with Argiopé’s idiosyncrisities and knew exactly what she needed to hear and when she needed to hear it. “You are much more than a henchpony, senorita,” he whispered. He kissed Argiopé on the cheek, and Argiopé blushed profusely. Withers and Rogue both turned several shades of green upon seeing their boss kissing a changeling who had assumed the form of a goat.

Still angry, though, Caballeron turned toward the commander and took several steps toward her. She was shorter than him, but she did not recede on his approach. He realized that he found that as admirable as he found it infuriating. “Fine,” he said. “If it means I get paid on time. But may I be honest?”

“Of course. Honesty is one of the Elements of Harmony. It is critical in how we chose to live our lives.”

“Don’t mock me! I don’t trust you.”

“Nor should you. Although I have been kind to you- -relatively- -I am not subject to pony morality.” She leaned forward suddenly. Caballeron did not take a single step back, and the commander smiled. “That said. I intend to please you. In any way I am able.”

Argiopé hissed violently and momentarily lost a significant part of her surface spell; the result was, for a fraction of a second, a demonic looking goat-insect hybrid. Caballeron held up his hoof to silence her, something that she only allowed him to do begrudgingly.

“You will work with my associates. If I cannot be there to capture Daring Do, then they will be there in my place. And once you have her bound? Bring her to me.”

The commander paused, considering. “Granted,” she said, quickly. “We will. But first we must find shelter. This mountain has extensive caves which should be adequate.” She began walking. “We should hurry,” she said. “Before your Zebra freezes. Unless you would rather save the cost of paying him.”

Caballeron paused and looked back at Zel, who was now being held by tightly by Brass Knuckles. His shivering had slowed, and his eyes were closed. Seeing him, Caballeron found himself wishing that the minotaur had stayed behind. Had she not been present, he would have been able to put the commander’s admittedly brilliant suggestion into practice.

Chapter 27: Ascent of the Vedmak-Girl

The air was frigid and thin, but agent Sweetie Drops did not stop. She gripped the jagged stone with her hooves, pulling herself upward. Around her was nothing but vast cliffs; the drop downward was at least five hundred meters.

She hauled herself upward to a thin ledge that spiraled upward across the edge of the cliff. Sweetie Drops stepped onto it, and balanced perfectly as she minced forward with precise dexterity. The sword on her back jingled against her gear. She had only taken her coat and sword; carrying anything else at this attitude would be impossible.

According to legend, Lyskymm was an unclimbable mountain. That was why the ancient Pegasi had chosen it; there was no way for the majority of their enemies to climb to the top. Only griffons and some types of eagle could reach the top, and the Pegasi were prepared to deal with either of those.

The legend was not entirely accurate. Seventy years prior, an earth-pony mountaineer had successfully scaled the mountain and had been the first non-Pegasus pony to witness the ancient citadel. He had found it entirely in ruin, with only a few small villages of backward, iodine-deficient ponies dwelling far below in inaccessible regions. Since then, there had been two other successful climbers. All of them had their cutie marks in mountain climbing, and all of them were assisted by small armies of native goats. Sweetie Drops’s cutie mark was in candy, and she was alone.

“Stupid mountain,” she muttered.

Several minutes later, she came to what amounted to a ledge. It extended from the cliff a good distance, and was overgrown with heavy vegetation in the form of gnarled cedars, strange yews, and mountain laurels. Sweetie Drops paused at the edge, opening a candy from her pocket and popping it into her mouth. As she sucked on it, she recalled the map she had memorized. She sighed. Daring Do had explained the location of the nearest village, and it was still a substantial climb.

Fortunately, almost three decades of training had left Sweetie Drops remarkably resistant to fatigue, cold, hunger and pain. She continued onward into the small copse of strange trees.

Her surroundings were remarkably quiet. There were no signs of animals of any sort, but that explanation was still incomplete. The trees themselves would normally have made low rustling just by the wind moving through their needles and leaves- -yet they were silent. It was unnerving, and Sweetie Drops recalled that she was in the native range of the smashing yew. Although her agency had worked long and hard to remove every last specimen from the environment, she was still careful to watch for the telltale branches of a murderous shrub.

There was no shrub. Instead, Sweetie Drops froze as a strange sound pierced though the silence. The caw of a crow.

She jumped back suddenly and stared up at the trees. They had been empty a moment before, but now were filled with hundreds upon hundreds of crows, all sitting in complete silence. Staring. Before Sweetie Drops could react, the crows rushed forward with hundreds of cries. Sweetie Drops shielded her eyes as they pecked at her thick coat and as their talons scratched at her, and the sky disappeared in a plume of black feathers.

The force of the flock knocked her backward, and for a moment she was lost in a tornado of black. Then she felt her hoof fall and fail to touch rock. Her breathing ceased suddenly as her whole body tingled with the heat of fear: they had forced her back over the edge of the cliff.

The birds fell away as she fell, all of them still watching her. Frigid air rushed by as Sweetie Drops tried to right herself, and she stared at the cliff pass by her. Although her speed was increasing, she could feel time slowing; she could see each and every hoofhold she had used to climb as she passed.

Time was of the essence, but Sweetie Drops still took a fraction of a second to make an incredibly rude gesture toward the crows. Then she drew a grappling gun from her coat and fired at an oblique angle. It stuck somewhere near the level of the small wood, and rather than snapping tight the angled line served as a swing. Sweetie Drops twisted her body, riding it upward, until she could once again see trees. Then she released the grappling hook and performed a graceful flip before landing on solid ground once more- -this time with her sword drawn.

The forest had once again gone silent, but this time it felt different. Sweetie Drops could taste it: the flavor of metal and rot. Magic was being used, and it was both powerful and dark.

“Show yourself!” she cried.

Something amongst the dark trunks moved. A large reflective eye became visible as a pony leaned forward. Differentiating him from the darkness of the nearly impenetrable mouontain wood was nearly impossible, and Sweetie Drops assumed that he was a dark color, perhaps black. Strangely, though, she found herself wondering where all the crows had gone.

“You,” she said, rotating her sword slightly on the axis of the blade’s ring-handle. The blade gleamed in the strange mountain light; it was made of a bright metal, and the sides of it were inscribed with strange runes and designs that seemed to glow from within. “Do you know what this is?”

“A vedmak sword,” said a voice from amongst the trees. It sounded deeply unpleasant, although not especially threatening. “I didn’t think there were any vedmaks left.”

“There aren’t. But I’m as close as you’ll ever get to see.”

The eye stared at the sword, and then the head it was attached to turned suddenly to reveal another eye. They were on the sides of his head. Then, after a moment, both rendered on the front. They were large and jaundiced. “So. You think you can fight us?”

“Us?”

Suddenly, at least thirty ponies stepped out from behind various trees. All of them were silent, and all of them were black. Each stared unblinkingly with diseased eyes.

“I’ve fought more.” Sweetie Drops raised the sword. “I like my chances.”

“It is my understanding that your organization specializes in monster abatement.” The black pony spoke with only one voice, confirming what Sweetie Drops already knew. “We are not monsters.”

“No. Monsters don’t generally talk. Or use magic. You’re a mage. A weak one.”

“Really.”

“Really. I’m not really in the mood for fighting, but I will if I have to. You clearly don’t like me, and guess what? I don’t like you. Darn unicorns.”

The expression of the eye did not change. “We would overwhelm you.”

“Stop saying ‘we’. You and I both know that there’s only one of you.”

“You have no idea what it means to define the ‘self’, and how complicated identity can truly become. Or how maddening it is.”

“Nor do I care. I know that this sword is made of hypercrystaline silver. And I know what the runes on it say.”

“‘Confuse the horsesons’, perhaps?”

“Now you’re just mocking me. Guess what? There really are going to be two of you in about half a second.”

“You’re a liar.”

Sweetie Drops was taken aback. “No,” she said. “I really am going to fight you.”

“I don’t care. It’s an excellent sword, but you dirt-horses are all the same. ‘Hit it with a sharp stick, that’ll work’. You’re basically walking meat. Delicious meat…”

“And that makes me a liar how?”

“More of lying by omission I suppose. The elderly sky-Pegasus Daring Do. I believe you told here that your only interest her is in Caballeron. That the Hand of Doom does not concern you. You lied to her.”

“So we have a spy.”

“You have an employer. And I’ll take your evasiveness as a ‘yes’. Because your agency does not only deal with monsters. You’ve sworn an oath to your false god to protect Equestria from any aberrant incidents.”

“If you mean I serve Celestia, then yes. And if you want me to be fully honest, too, I might as well be. Yes. Caballeron can’t be allowed to get his dirty hooves on it. But neither can Daring Do. To what? Give it to a museum? To researchers?” She shook her head. “If she’s right, it has the power to change fate itself. No pony in Equestria should have that power.”

“Except the false-god, perhaps? Nevermind. So what. Do you intend to destroy it?”

“If I can.”

“And if you can’t?”

“Then the agency will contain it.”

“That is a deadly oversight,” hissed the mage. “You do not have the level of sophistication to contain it. Your tiny brains evolved enough to let you farm, but never got much farther. If the Hand of Doom remains in Equestria, all pony life will be at risk.”

“Do you think I don’t know that?”

“I was just making sure. You are a dirt-horse after all. And for the sake of clarity, it doesn’t ‘change fate’. But I suppose I can’t blame the elderly one for a poor translation. The ponies of Exmoor made the same mistake. Or nearly did.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning the Exmoori had two words for death. One translates to ‘Forever-Sleep’. The other does not translate completely into your ridiculously overwrought, spastic language. But it has much more horrific connotations. One translation is ‘doom.’ As in the Hand of Doom.”

“Yeah, I know. I got that.”

“I have an alternative.”

“No. I don’t make deals with mages.”

The black stallion shrugged. “Fine.”

Sweetie Drops raised an eyebrow. She was actually somewhat confused; she had expected him to try harder.

“Fine?”

“The deal would have been a formality. But I already know your motives. They don’t align with mine. But they’re close enough that there’s common ground.” The black pony stepped forward. He was, in fact, a unicorn. “Do not let Daring Do take the Hand. But, likewise- -and more importantly- -do not allow the Questlords of Inverness to acquire it either.”

“Don’t give me orders.”

“Why? You are genetically inferior. It’s your job to serve me. You do not have the mental capacity to do anything else.” A toothless smile crossed his face. “Even if you can’t comprehend that fact.”

His body suddenly burst, hemorrhaging crows from every direction. They rose in a great plume, cawing and screaming as they poured from the forest into the frigid air, circling and twisting as they ascended the mountain unhindered.

Sweetie Drops watched them go, and waited a long time before she sheathed her blade. Then she continued on her climb. “Stupid mountain,” she grumbled. “Stupid, stupid, moronic mountain.”

Chapter 28: A Warm Rest

The stiffness was beginning to set in. Daring Do sat back, leaning in an uncomfortable chair that had clearly been sat in many hundreds of thousands of times and then not sat in for many years, perhaps even decades. Her wings hurt, and despite her overall physical fitness, the altitude was beginning to take its toll. Despite her best efforts to suppress the symptoms, Daring Do could not help but feel nauseous and weak. Had she been as young as Rainbow Dash, she would have been able to weather the chance with ease; now, though, it would take some time.

Pursuing accommodations had not been easy. There were no inns on the mountain, as the ponies and goats who lived there hated outsiders with a passion. The normal procedure would have been to set up camp outside the village, but carrying all the necessary equipment would be impossible.

It had taken every ounce of charisma she had- -and at least two thirds of the money she had on her, the rest going to warm clothing for her and Rainbow Dash- -to even get a chance to negotiate with a mildly sympathetic Pegasus mare. She had charged a ridiculous sum for what amounted to a long-abandoned, barely furnished house that listed several degrees on a cracked foundation. Even then, Daring Do was sure she would not have been successful had it not been for White. Apparently, the ponies of this area found a silent, pure-white mare with synthetic, unblinking eyes to be extremely unnerving and intimidating.

While considering this, the pony in question entered the room through a crooked, rotting doorframe. Rainbow Dash followed behind her, a strange frown on her face. Daring Do immediately understood why. White had just come back from a bath, and although her mane and wings had become adorably poofy, it was the first time Daring Do had seen her without her armor. White was even younger than she had initially expected, and was gangly and thin. Her body was perfect white but marked with a number of scars. Many of them were perfectly straight and even, the result of countless surgeries. Many others, though, were not.

What Daring Do found the most heartbreaking, though, was not the presence of a scar but the lack of something else. Despite having been enlisted as a soldier and tasked to violently and knowingly destroy most of a city block along with every pony within it, White had not yet acquired her cutie mark.

White paused, turning toward Daring Do, staring at her questioningly. The pause was brief, but Daring Do noticed a strange mark on her right shoulder. She had a barcode.

As quickly as she had paused, White suddenly rushed forward toward the sputtering fire in the hearth. She immediately burrowed underneath a large pile of musty blankets, squirmed for a moment, and then rose up through them so that only her face was exposed. She then proceeded to sit quietly and cheerfully, reveling in her warmth.

Rainbow Dash had also come back from the bath, although she had not become nearly as poofy. In fact, she had tied her mane back with surprising skill. As soon as she entered, she approached the pile of coats and warm-weather gear that Daring Do had just purchased. She began to put it on.

“What are you doing?”

“What? You said we’re going up to the ruins, right? To see the castle?”

“To inspect it for clues to what happened to the last Exmoor pony,” reminded Daring Do. “And look out the window.” She pointed. “It’s dark out.”

“That’s just because the sun went behind the peak. There’s still two hours of daylight left.”

“Maybe. But it’s not safe to be on the mountain after dark.”

“I’m trained in night-flying. I can even do instruments only. Without any instruments.”

“I’m not doubting your flying skills. I’m doubting your judgement. This mountain is ancient. Old places like this tend to have things living in them. Things you don’t want to encounter in the night.”

“But Caballeron- -”

“Already has the Spear. And I can guarantee the Hand of Doom isn’t here. There is no logical reason for him to be here.”

“That’s not what I mean! He’s getting ahead! If he gets to it first- -all of Equestria will be in danger!”

“You don’t need to be dramatic. We still don’t know what it actually does. And I’d bet Caballeron doesn’t either. Although…” Although, she thought to herself, if he had already obtained the Spear of Extinction, there was a strong possibility that he also had a map. He could be there at that very moment, about to claim victory and recover the artifact first. Daring Do found the thought infuriating, but even more so was the fact that she would gladly have climbed the mountain in the dead of a moonless night, regardless of barbegazas, yuki-onas, yeti, even stray wendigoes. If only she had been a little younger. If only the journey just to get there had not been so hard on her.

“I’m not going until morning,” she said. “I need to check the translation one more time, and go through my back-notes about the Spear of Extinction.” That was an excuse, although probably not a lie. As tired as she was, Daring Do doubted she would be able to sleep. “But I will be there as soon as Celestia begins to raise the sun.”

“But…I already put my boots on!”

“You’re going to have to take them off anyway. First socks, then coat, then boots, it doesn’t work any other way.”

“Wait…why would I need socks if I’m not going up the mountain.” Rainbow Dash suddenly blushed profusely. “You don’t mean- -”

“No,” frowned Daring Do. “I don’t. I mean, you’re quick enough that you can at least scout the mountain before dark. But don’t go into any ruins or crypts or any of that stuff without me. Just walk around. Take a look. Try to get an appreciation for our history. It really is a beautiful place and it really inspired me when I was your age.”

Rainbow Dash gasped but continued to blush. “You were here- -when you were MY age?”

“I’m assuming your eighteen or nineteen so yeah. I guess it’s better if you see it alone the first time. I’ll be with you tomorrow to do a more thorough search.”

Rainbow Dash most likely could not have looked more overjoyed. Daring Do had never seen a pony put on winter clothing so fast, and she saw little more than a rainbow-colored door as Rainbow Dash shot out of the door. Before she slammed it behind her, she said something along the lines of: “ThankyousomuchI’lldoexactlythatbebackintwohoursthreetops!”

Daring Do paused for several seconds as the rainbow-colored substance that made up the blur began to precipitate and drift to the floor. There was no need to ask what it was, as Daring Do did not want to know. Instead, she sat up in her chair and with a great deal of arthritic pain stood.

“White,” she said. The albino Pegasus turned her face toward Daring Do, keeping the rest of herself swaddled in blankets. “Do you like hot chocolate?”

White’s artificial eyes- -which were already massive- -widened even more. She gasped audibly despite not having vocal cords, and began to salivate visibly. Daring Do took that as a “yes”.

Chapter 29: The Commander’s Legacy

The trip to the summit was not as easy as Rainbow Dash had anticipated, but far from impossible for a Wonderbolt. There were sudden, unpredictable downdrafts, incredibly sideways sheer force, and of course the frigid weather and increasingly thin atmosphere. Rainbow Dash, of course, being Rainbow Dash, relished the challenge. When she finally reached the top, she decided almost immediately that the trip had been worth the trouble.

The top of the mountain glittered with fresh, high altitude snow. Not the synthetic kind that Pegasi precision manufactured, but the genuine, naturally formed article. Rainbow Dash had seen it too few times in her life, and gasped involuntarily at how brightly it reflected the light of a sun quickly preparing to descend across a seemingly endless sky.

Lyskymm had two high peaks. Each summit held the ruins of a massive tower, built from the same dark gray stone of the mountain. The architecture was strange, though, and was unlike anything Rainbow Dash had seen. At once it gave the impression of being sturdy and fortified, and the towers radiated a sense of imposing strength. At the same time, their design was bizarrely light and airy. Both of them, though ruins, were surprisingly tall, standing like sharp spires into the cold and thin air overhead; their design was such that they seemed as though they would collapse at any moment- -and yet they did not, and they had not for nearly one thousand years.

Rainbow Dash chose to land between the two peaks. Her hooves crunched in the fresh snow, leaving the first set of prints that this part of the mountain had likely seen in some time. Perhaps even since Daring Do herself had ascended it so long ago.

The space between the two peaks was not empty. Although it held no tall, impressive towers, it was filled with extensive stone ruins, the remnants of the fortress-city that had once stood here. The buildings that now consisted of half-buried, eroded walls had once been barracks, armories, commissaries, but also shops and homes. Nothing but collapsing rocks remained, but walking slowly through it, Rainbow Dash could almost feel the bustle of the ancient city it had once been.

After a few seconds of aimless wandering, Rainbow Dash found herself in the center of a wide street. She paused, considering it for a moment. Having grown up in Cloudsdale, she was familiar with Pegasus city design, at least in a modern sense. Streets were uncommon, as there was no need for them. Especially wide ones. There was no need for them when everypony could fly. At the same time, it occurred to her that she had never really seen ground-based Pegasus architecture or city design. The tradition had died with the very city she found herself standing in.

So, she proceeded down the road. It probably consisted of cobblestone, or maybe had been cut straight from the rock below. Now, though, it was covered in many feet of snow and ice. Much of the ruins were, which made them look all the more impressive- -and all the more somber. On one side a vast cornice was visible, looking like a wave of snow rising up from the edge of the northern cliff. Rainbow Dash paused to look at it and wondered how in Equestria Bon Bon was expecting to climb a mountain like that.

As she stood in the quiet, her position protected by the crest of the cornice, Rainbow Dash suddenly became aware of a strange sound. It was difficult to place exactly what it was, but it was certainly not the noise that a mountain was supposed to make. To Rainbow Dash, it was almost like an unusually high wind chime, or a distant voice.

She stared out into the distance over the white plateau, looking at the snow between the ruined stone buildings. Something in one of the fields glinted, and Rainbow Dash tried to focus, only to find that the glare from the snow was nearly blinding. What she did see- -or thought she saw- -was something coming toward her.

Then she was pushed to the side.

“HEY!” she cried out, nearly falling to the snow. She turned just in time to see a strange wisp of material pass her, a long thin chain-like thing that was almost completely transparent. It whirled and vanished like smoke or a cloud of snow, ducking into the solar glare and escaping, leaving only a thin trail through the snow. It was also then that Rainbow Dash saw the deep gash torn in the side of her jacket. A gash that came dangerously close to her right wing.

“Celestia’s tail!” she cried, suddenly rolling and dodging again as another chime sounded and a longer, more vicious looking chain of ice rose from the snow to strike at her. They were both silent and nearly invisible, but this time Rainbow Dash was able to discern an icy skull that looked like that of a pony- -and a number of vicious ice-blades on the side of the creature’s body.

She rolled and ducked again, dodging an attack by another creature and carrying the impetus into a flip. She flashed into the air, jumping onto the top of one of the ancient brick buildings. As she landed, one of the stones gave way and she fell, slamming hard into a large drift of snow.

More chimes sounded. There were so many that it nearly sounded like a symphony. It would have been beautiful if it was not so terrifying. Rainbow Dash stood to see the snow parting in many thin lines in front of her- -and behind her.

“So! You want to taste the rainbow, eh!?” she spread her legs and took a defensive stance. “WELL THEN COME AND TASTE ME!”

The creatures materialized and lunged. So many of them came out at once that Rainbow Dash froze. Before she could react, something shot downward from above, glimmering in the air before sticking into the snow. Rainbow Dash finally jumped back, and as she did she realized that the objet was a sword. It had a large hoof-ring at the base of the blade, but no crossguard. The shape was strange, as one side was bladed while the other was serrated viciously. The whole of it was made of a peculiar mottled reddish metal.

The blade had impaled one of the creatures. It struggled for a moment against the red metal, but rather than escaping, it suddenly burst apart into a plume of ice. The plume- -or what Rainbow Dash had mistaken for a plume- -was actually a number of much smaller creatures identical to the first. Rainbow Dash cried out as she saw them wriggling and writhing in the air, knowing that if a swarm like that attacked her there would be nothing she could do as a matter of defense. Instead of attacking, though, the chimes suddenly stopped. The new, smaller creatures vanished, as did the remainder of the group. They did not even leave tracks.

A Pegasus descended from above. She was wearing heavy cold-weather gear that was not all that much different from Rainbow Dash’s, although instead of a hat she wore an extended hood. Her hooves crunched quietly on the snow and she slowly slipped her hoof through the handle-ring of her sword before sheathing it with one quick flip.

“No, don’t do that!” cried Rainbow Dash. “Don’t put it away! They’re going to be back any second!”

“No they won’t.” The mare had a strangely accented voice, as though she was not accustomed to speaking Equestrian. “They are ice specters. They tend to inhabit cold, abandoned places like this. Places ponies once did. They are quite deadly but scare easily. They will not be back for some time.”

She turned toward Rainbow Dash. Her eyes were deep red and her face and wings as white as the snow that surrounded her. Somehow, she seemed strikingly familiar, but Rainbow Dash could not place her.

“It’s not safe to be on this mountain alone,” continued the red-eyed Pegasus. “Not this close to sunset. You were lucky. Don’t tempt fate.”

“So you’re telling me to leave.”

“If that is how you wish to interpret it.”

“But then you’d be alone. And you’d be one of those…what is the word? Hippo something…”

“Hypocrite,” sighed the Pegasus. “Yes. I suppose I would. I, however, have a sword.”

“A really cool sword.” Rainbow Dash leaned to the side to get a look at the surprisingly simple scabbard that the sword had been stored in. “I mean, that was pretty awesome, swooping down and throwing the sword and all…but…”

“But what?”

“If I had done it? I’d have made the entrance different. You know, land on one knee and punch the ground or something. Superhero landing.”

“That would be horribly uncomfortable.”

“More like horribly awesome!” Rainbow Dash laughed, and extended a hoof. The white mare took a step back, staring at the hoof. “But fair’s fair. Thank you for saving me. My name’s Rainbow Dash. What’s yours?”

The mare stared at Rainbow Dash for a long moment. A moment that quickly grew more and more awkward.

“Don’t leave me hanging. I mean, you have to have a name, right? Everypony has a name.”

“Of course.” The mare pressed her booted hoof against Rainbow Dash’s. “My name is Absence.”

“Absence? That’s a weird name.”

“Well, I certainly didn’t make it up just now.”

“Hey, I didn’t mean it like that. I mean, in the town I’m from, we have a guy named Filthy Rich. And do you know who he married?”

“No.”

“Spoiled Milk.”

Absence smiled slightly. “Those are some unusual choices, I suppose.”

“And that’s not even the half of it! My best friend is named Fluttershy. And my sister is named Scootaloo.”

Absence winced. “I see. Your naming conventions are...unfortunate.”

“I know, right?” Rainbow Dash looked around. “So, Absence. I’m guessing you’re here for the same reason I am.”

“And what reason would that be?”

“To see the ruins! I mean, have you ever been to a place this cool?! I mean, it’s kind of spooky, and a little run down… but come on! That over there?” She pointed at one of the twin castles. “That’s Commander Hurricane’s keep! Commander HURRICANE!” She paused, and then looked at the other castle. “…or it might be that one.”

“Most likely the west,” suggested Absence, pointing at the second tower.

Rainbow Dash gasped. “You know ancient Pegasus history?!”

“No. That is the taller of the two.”

“Oh.”

“To be honest, I know very little about my race’s history. I was not taught it. I was here on Lyskymm for business, so I thought I would come here. To learn some, if I can.”

“That’s great! Come on!”

Rainbow Dash started walking quickly through the snow. Absence appeared confused. “Where are you going?”

“To the west one! Come on! You can come with me! I mean, it’s probably poetic and all to be all alone, but I’m not exactly good at poeming.”

“Poetry.”

“That too. And besides. I don’t really want to be eaten by ice specters.”

“They do not eat you. They weaken you, then freeze your solid to feed on your fundamental essence.”

Rainbow Dash shivered. “Yeah. Not a good way to go. So we should probably hurry before the sun sets!”

Rainbow Dash continued. Absence looked around the icy fields and ruins. She had no fear of the ice specters, but decided to go with the blue mare anyway. It seemed like the tour would be more amusing with another than it would be alone.

The pair of Pegasi ascended the mountain easily, as a set of stone stairs had been cut into the side of the peak. They had crumbled in a few places, and many more were covered by wide drifts of snow, but this did not slow them down. Rainbow Dash was nimble, and Absence was light on her hooves. It was not long before they had reached the courtyard outside the crumbling fortress.

“Oh wow,” whispered Rainbow Dash. “It’s even bigger up close!”

“These structures are very old, but the foundations are firm.” Absence kicked at a large stone brick about four times as tall as she was. “I would say that it was built by earth-ponies, but at this attitude even goats would have trouble performing all but the simplest tasks.”

“Pegasi can build things too. I mean, you should see my house. It’s massive. I should know, I built it.”

“You did?” Absence seemed somewhat surprised.

“Well, it is made out of clouds…that I sort of ‘borrowed’. But it still looks awesome!”

Rainbow Dash trotted into the courtyard. Trees probably did not grow this high, so as a substitute various columns had been assembled. They were substantially aged, but did not seem to support anything that might have collapsed. Confused, Rainbow Dash approached one. Absence followed, her red eyes scanning the ancient field for threats.

“It’s a column,” said Rainbow Dash. “Weird.”

“An Iomudic column to be exact,” said Absence. She then pointed at the next nearest. “And that one is Comtoirinthian. All of the columns are different.” She paused. “Perhaps they are meant to represent the vassals of the Pegasus empire.”

“The states of the Imperium,” said Rainbow Dash. “Yeah. That makes sense.” She turned around. “But look at them all! Oh mane, I didn’t know it was this HUGE!”

“I suppose our kind excels at military conquest. I suppose being at the nexus of the Jetstream is also beneficial.”

“The what?”

Absence pointed upward. “The nexus. It’s abandoned now, but it connects several of the largest streams. I always wondered why it was here.”

“Wow,” said Rainbow Dash, looking up. The sky was mottled with pale clouds, but the Jetstream itself was impossible to see. “With that they could get from here to anywhere else in Equestria in a matter of hours. No wonder they were so angry about having to give it up.”

“Give it up?”

“Yeah. During the windigo invasion.”

“Windigoes are nearly extinct.”

“Well, they are now, but they weren’t a thousand years ago!”

Absence looked confused.

“Wait,” said Rainbow Dash. “You know, the Hearthswarming Tale?”

“I do not know what ‘Hearthswarming’ is.”

Rainbow Dash gasped. “How can you not know?! I mean, EVERYPONY celebrates Hearthswarming!”

“Apparently not.”

Rainbow Dash blushed. “Oh. Sorry. I didn’t mean…well…” She looked around the courtyard, and spied the perfect visual aid. She spread her wings and soared toward it, noting just how difficult flying was at this attitude. Absence followed, appearing to have no difficulty at all with her flight even with a heavy sword at her side.

“This!” said Rainbow Dash, pointing at an enormous bronze statue. It had faded and corroded in some places, but the lack of liquid water at this elevation had kept it in excellent condition. The subject of it was a beautiful but stern pony dressed in full classical armor, her striped mane drifting backward gracefully. She held a spear pointed toward the east in a salute to Celestia; Rainbow Dash noticed that the spear, although it was a part of the sculpture, looked virtually identical to the one that had broken three of Daring Do’s ribs less than two days before. Its strange structure and remarkable design were unmistakable.

“This is Commander Hurricane! Well, actually it’s a statue, but close enough! She was the leader of the Pegasi when it happened.” Rainbow Dash paused. She knew it for the Wonderbolts, she was not well-versed in history. Commander Hurricane, though, was so important that she at least knew a few things. “According to the stories? They say she was a descendant of Pegasus himself, but still started out as private just to prove to everypony that she could make her way all on her own. She made Commander in five years. No pony has EVER done that, before or since.”

“Mostly because the hierarchy she chose to climb ceased to exist centuries ago.”

“Well…yeah…but even in the Wonderbolts, you can’t even get to be captain with any less than ten years experience!”

“I did not mean to imply that it was not impressive. After all, she ruled all of this.” Absence gestured to the ruins. “Even if it has long been forgotten.”

“It isn’t forgotten. That’s what I’m getting to. A thousand years ago, there was some sort of…what did Twilight call it? ‘Climatologicall disturbance’ or something like that. The windigoes came. This mountain got too cold, and Commander Hurricane had to lead the Pegasi somewhere warmer.” She paused and looked around. “See, this place used to be much, MUCH bigger.”

“Larger than the mountaintop?”

“Yeah. This was just the ground-based portion. All around it they had a cloud-city, Cloudstantinople. It must have gone on for hundreds of miles.” Rainbow Dash sighed, thinking that for a moment she could almost visualize it. “But it dispersed. Broke up and drifted out. They do that sometimes. I mean, they ARE made of clouds. And after that, nopony bothered building on mountaintops like this. There was no point.”

“I see,” said Absence, stepping past the statue. Rainbow Dash followed her as they climbed a small set of stairs to a large, flat stone platform over which the sky could be seen through the unskinned arches of a wide dome. “And I take it they never returned.”

“No. Because after that, they unified with the earth-ponies and unicorns and made Equestria. New land, and no enemies to defend against. ”

Absence’s expression darkened. “Of course. The unification.”

“I know. It’s a really cool story. Better when you see it as a play. You know, I was actually in it once. I got to play Hurricane in the Canterlot version of the play. I don’t mean to brag, but that’s a pretty big deal.”

“I’m sure it is. I’ve never been to Canterlot myself, but I hear they have high standards. Most unicorns do.”

“Eh. I mean, it’s a pretty place, but nothing compared to Cloudsdale.”

“Is that where you’re from?”

“Yeah. Well, I grew up there, but now I’m ground-based in Ponyville.”

“I do not know that locating.”

“It’s a little town. It’s nice. A good adventure-home balance.”

They ascended into the fortress. There were no stairs leading to it; entering required ascending a vertical cliff hewn from the rock of the mountain. Doing so was not hard for Pegasi. At the top was an opening to the tower proper. Some of the fragments of an ancient door were still clinging to the bent, rusted hinges that had once supported it.

“What about you?” asked Rainbow Dash.

“Me?”

“No. The ice specters.”

“Ha. No. You could say I’m married to my work. I don’t get home much.”

“Dang. That’s no good. But at least you get plenty of adventure.”

Absence sighed. “I do. But sometimes I find myself wishing things were simpler. Do you ever get that feeling?”

Rainbow Dash paused. She actually had to think for a moment. Then she realized where she was standing, in the center of the lower floor of Commander Hurricane’s ancient fortress. At either side stood vast windows overlooking the seemingly endless mountain range around them, and the walls were lined with strange but colorful mosaics showing the exploits of Pegasi for hundreds of generations past.

“No,” she said. “I’ll never get tired of adventure. I can’t see myself living a boring life. There’s nothing awesome about that.”

Absence did not seem to judge her, but just nodded. “Be glad that you have the right to choose such a path.”

Rainbow Dash was confused. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Absence did not answer. She walked toward one of the windows and stared out. Rainbow Dash crossed the floor as well, her hooves clicking on the ancient stone. Both of them stared out at the vastness, and Rainbow Dash could not help but feel profoundly lonely. All of those mountains and all of that land, all of it that might once have held many redoubts and forts of ancient Pegasi, and it was now all empty. Had she been alone, she might have cried, or at the very least felt horribly saddened by it.

“It’s so empty,” she sighed.

“Because the unification made them forget,” replied Absence. She sighed as well. “But I suppose it was necessary. The hierarchy cannot exist with Pegasi alone.”

“I think they did a pretty good job. Even before unification. If Pegasi had wanted to, we could have taken over the whole world.”

“No. That would be impossible.”

Rainbow Dash turned toward the white mare. “Why?”

Absence paused. “Rainbow Dash. Have you ever read Neighdo?”

“Like the putty stuff that foals play with?”

“No. I mean the unicorn philosopher.”

“Oh. Philosophy. Yeah.” Rainbow Dash frowned. “Look, I do read books. But I’m not THAT big of an egghead.”

“Of course. Then let me summarize my point. Neighdo proposed that an ideal society exists in a three-part hierarchy. At the top are intelligent rulers who understand what is best for their subjects. In the middle are those ruled by heart, meaning the military who executes the will of the rulers unerringly. And at the bottom are the peasantry, the farmers and laborers who provide the food and work necessary to keep the upper two classes functional.”

“I guess that makes…sense?”

“Ponies exist in the same way. Unicorns are born superior to us, and they exist to rule. Pegasi exist to serve them and carry out their will. Earth-ponies exist only to farm and build our cities. Only in this hierarchy can there be peace and order.”

“Well that’s stupid.”

Absence’s red eyes widened. “Excuse me?”

“Ponies aren’t better than other ponies just because of what KIND of pony they are. Unicorn’s aren’t better than us, and earth-ponies aren’t any worse. I have friends who are both kinds, and I don’t see why they have to do those things. Like, Applejack…um, bad example. Pinkie Pie…no, she was born on a rock farm…oh! Fluttershy! She’s a Pegasus, but she just plays with animals all day.”

“That’s anecdotal. Yes, personal talents may vary. But the hierarchy must persist. And it does. Who among you is wealthy? Unicorns, generally, who have lifespans in the centuries. Princes. The elite. Those in Canterlot. And who is our military, the Wonderbolts, for example? Have you ever heard of an earth-pony Wonderbolt?”

“No, that would be stupid!”

“Then my point stands. True, it may not be so harsh as I have described it. But it is fundamentally how the world works.”
“Kind of, I guess.”

“What do you mean ‘kind of’?”

“Well, it’s just that…unicorns don’t rule us. Alicorns do.”

Absence’s expression suddenly became incredibly harsh, to the point where Rainbow Dash recoiled.

“Yes,” she said, icily. “What you have said is true. Although it should not be. Alicorns disturb the hierarchy. They take power from those meant to rule and consolidate it in a class that will never die and never bear heirs. For standing outside the hierarchy, they are abominations against nature.”

“Whoa, whoa, slow down! That’s super harsh! And totally untrue! One of my best friends is an alicorn.”

This seemed to surprise Absence greatly. “Which one?”

“Twilight Sparkle.”

“Ah. The least alicorn.”

“She’s not least!”

“My apologies, I phrased it wrong. What I mean to say is that she has only been an alicorn for a few years. She is still a beautiful unicorn at heart.” Absence’s dark red eyes turned to Rainbow Dash and stared into her violet ones unblinkingly. “Wait a hundred years. Or a thousand. Or ten thousand. Or five hundred thousand. Watch what she becomes then.”

Rainbow Dash had no response. She had never considered that before, the fact that as an alicorn, Twilight had the potential to live for thousands of years, if not forever. The implications of it were horrifying.

Absence sighed again and gestured to the castle. “Have you heard the legend of this place?”

“Which one? There’s a lot.”

“One that my mother told me. The one that is the reason I cannot ever admire Hurricane, even though I recognize she was a beautiful ruler and critical pony to our race. It is said that in this place, using the Spear of Extinction, she slew the very last of an ancient race of ponies.”

“The last Exmoor pony,” gasped Rainbow Dash.

“Ah,” said Absence, not seeming surprised at all. “So you know the legend.”

“My mom told me the same legend. Sort of. She never said it was a pony, though.”

“Then what did she say?”

“That it was a horrible demon that climbed straight up the mountain to challenge Commander Hurricane. That it wanted to take control of the kingdom and order all the foals to be brought to him so he could eat them up. That he was forty feet tall and breathed fire and spit acid, but Commander Hurricane fought him anyway even though she knew it was impossible! And after thirty days and thirty nights, the battle was finally over, and she won!”

Rainbow Dash had grown so animated that her wings were flapping in the cold, thin air. Absence seemed mildly amused.

“That is not how it was told to me,” she said. “But then again, my mother was a unicorn. So the legend might have been different.”

“How did it go for you?”

“Closer to the truth, I think.” Absence walked across the great floor, over the abstract designs inlaid into the rock below. “In our legend, her opponent was a pony. An Exmoor pony. One who came to an impossible impasse, a break in ideology. Specifically, the unification you just described to me.”

“Wait. So you knew?”

“I like hearing you talk. And you seemed to be having fun. But yes. I know about the unification. Of course I do. And that was what brought them to battle.”

“But Hurricane opposed the unification. At least at first.”

“True. But she was swayed. She returned here and met the challenger, when all others had departed. She told him of her plan, and he refused. He could not accept the unification. Do you know the reason? Because you’ve already stated it.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Celestia. And Luna, to a lesser extent. Alicorns.” Absence turned. “You see, the Exmoori were a proud race of warriors. Not unlike Pegasi. But where they differed was in how greatly they valued their freedom, their honor, and their independence.”

Rainbow Dash’s eyes narrowed. “I think you’re insulting me.”

“I’m insulting both of us. Because we deserve it. Our ancestors bent down and bowed to their ‘beautiful Princesses’, but the Exmoori refused. And they paid dearly. Why do you think the one here was the very last? Because Celestia had already burned away their race. Purged it from Equestria for not submitting.”

“That isn’t true.”

“Do you have evidence of that?” Absence walked around the circular floor again. “Because I do not. Only this legend. But it has stayed with me for my entire life. That that one Exmoor pony, the last of his kind, refused to submit. He chose his freedom and his honor over a life of servitude under the gold-clad hooves of a false god.” She paused, and lowered her head. “Yes. Hurricane was important. Glorious I’m sure. But it’s always the Exmoor pony that I will respect more.”

“I don’t agree with you. With anything you’re saying.”

“And I’m not asking you to. There’s no reason why you need to, or why I should need to convince you. You can believe as you choose.”

Rainbow Dash had prepared a tirade of arguments, but all of them were instantly stymied by Absence’s sudden acquiescence. She found it annoying, but only for a moment. This place was quiet and cold, and in a way sacred to the Pegasi. Rainbow Dash realized she did not want to argue anyway.

So she shrugged. “Yeah. I guess friends can have different opinions on things. I mean, if you’ve seen what happens when me and AJ talk politics? HA! Now those are fights that would make Commander Hurricane proud.”

Absence looked surprised. “Firstly, it would be ‘AJ and I’.”

“Don’t be a grammar-Sombra, Absence.”

“Second. Friends?”

Rainbow Dash was somewhat taken aback. She turned her head to one side. “I mean, yeah. Sure. You seem pretty cool. A little wordy, I guess, but you’re cool. And have an awesome sword. So, yeah. We can be friends.”

“Huh.” Absence walked to the window and sat down. If there had been glass in it, it had long-since departed. “I’ve never had a friend before.”

Rainbow Dash sat beside her. “Really?”

“My work tends to preclude it.” She sighed and looked out at the distance. Rainbow Dash did to, and she suddenly understood the phrase ‘having one’s breath taken away’. The sun was setting. The high-atmosphere clouds were lit with every color, from red to orange and even purple and dark blue. From the top of the mountain, it was massive, and from the altitude, it was new and different from any that Rainbow Dash had ever seen before. It was beautiful.
“Oh wow,” she said. “Look at that!”
Absence smiled. “I detest Celestia,” she said, “but even I have to admit, she does good work.”

Staying on the mountain at night was dangerous. Monsters would arrive from their crevices and dens as soon as the sun finished setting and the day ended in twilight, and navigating the slippery and rocky slopes would be dangerous in the dark. Yet, despite this, the pair remained, sitting in silence, choosing to take the risk and watch the sun set, knowing that the risk would be much less if they descended the mountain together.

Chapter 30: The Aging Mare

Farther down the mountain, a different pair of Pegasi were sitting together, watching a fire instead of a sunset. The nights on the mountain were prodigiously cold, and the lodgings that Daring Do had managed to purchase were poorly insulated. The wood of the strange dark trees burned warmly, though, and the area near the fire was comfortable and pleasant.

White sat beside her. She was still bundled in blankets like some manner of burrito, although she would occasionally lean over and lap from a cup of hot chocolate sitting on the edge of a rickety chair. It was a strange, cat-like behavior, and Daring Do found it amusing.

Daring Do sipped her own hot chocolate. It was not the best; she had not had many ingredients to make it. A few high-mountain roots, the sap of a couple trees, and some hot water made something that was close enough. White certainly seemed to like it.

Outside was dark and cold. The pair of them sat in silence; the only sound was the crackling of the fire. Daring Do was aware that the lack of conversation was her choice and her choice alone, as White could not talk.

When she finally grew bored of the quiet, she spoke. White immediately turned and listened attentively, the lenses of her artificial eyes reflecting the red glow of the smoky fire.

“You know, this is so strange.”

White turned her head questioningly. She then sat eerily still in her blanket cocoon. Daring Do tried not to notice.

“I don’t even like ponies,” she continued. “I mean…hmm.” She thought for a moment, and sipped her hot chocolate. “When I’m on adventures, it’s one thing. I have associates, contacts, recurring villains…but in my private life? I’m a recluse. For a reason.”

White continued to stare.

“I mean, it never made sense to be around other ponies. I had a secret identity to protect, and so much work to do. I mean, I tried.” A long time ago, she had. And she had given up quickly. “But I never had friends. Or a family.”

White moved. The tip of one of her white hooves poked out of the blanket near her face and pointed toward the peaks of Lyskymm. To where Rainbow Dash was. Daring Do felt a pang of remorse for having let the young Pegasus go all alone. “No,” she said. “Rainbow Dash isn’t my daughter. She just looks like me. I don’t know why. I never had children. At this point I’m not going to.”

White shook her head and pointed again.

Daring Do understood. “You mean she’s a friend, then.”

White nodded.

“I guess.” She sipped her chocolate. “But she’s really more like a sidekick! It’s not like we’re that close.”

White then pointed at herself. Daring Do sighed.

“I don’t know about you yet. Sure. It seems to me like you’re a good kid. But I don’t know that for sure. I don’t know if you’re going to turn on me or what. You have to understand that, right?”

White neither shook her head nor nodded. Her expression did not change, but Daring Do still felt a pang of sadness from her.

“Besides. You have a family of your own, don’t you?”

White paused, and then very slowly nodded. This time she visibly looked sad.

“Well, you should be with them.” Daring Do paused, considering. “Or…or maybe not. How old are you? Twelve, fourteen? And they sent you on a bombing run. Steeds.”

A thin hoof emerged from beneath White’s blanket and poked Daring Do hard in the rump. Daring Do looked up to see White frowning. The albino Pegasus shook her head.

“Still family, aren’t they? Fine. But just so you know? I saw the indicators on those bombs. The ones you don’t know how to read. And I saw your distance. They would have taken you out too.”

White stiffened, but then nodded. Daring Do felt her anger rising. She had already known- -and they had made her go anyway.

“What did they do to you?” she asked quietly. One again, White just looked confused. Daring Do shook her head. “Of course. You can’t answer. Maybe that’s why I’m tolerating you. Because I’m a jerk. I can’t stand kids. Or maybe I understand.”

White stared silently from under the blanket.

“When I was your age, my father sent me to be trained in artifact training by the Perr-Synts. I spent most of my time with a unicorn who was twenty times my age. I dealt with it, but…” She sighed, and pulled her legs close to her. “Sometimes I wish I could have spent that time with my dad. If he wasn’t so obsessed with trading stolen artifacts, maybe I would have gotten more time with him. And now look at me. I’m doing the same thing. Obsessing with artifacts to the point where there’s nothing else for me. My life’s work, and what do I have to show for it? A broken body. A life where half the world thinks I’m not even real.” She sighed. “At least I didn’t have a daughter to mess up in the process.”

White suddenly slumped to one side. When she struck the floor, she inched her way across it, still wrapped in a pile of blankets. She reached Daring Do and curled up at her side, staring up unlikely with her silvery, multi-pupiled eyes.

Daring Do sighed again and rubbed her hoof on White’s blanket-covered head. “Yeah,” she said. “I know it’s stupid. Thanks for listening, though. I can’t say this stuff to Rainbow Dash. She looks up me, so I have to be strong. And…well…”

There was a knock at the door. Daring Do sat up, and White turned from beneath her blanket.

“Ha. Speak of the Luna. Well, do you want to take a bet? Is it Rainbow Dash or Sweetie Drops?”

White, of course, did not answer. The irises in her eyes widened, though, and she suddenly stiffened. She stood sharply from the blankets and backed away, breathing rapidly. Daring Do took this as a bad sign. White could see through the door, and already knew what was on the other side.

“Don’t worry,” she said, softly, grabbing her whip from one of the tables. It still had a gash in it- -a gash that White had left- -but it would have to do.

White did not respond. She did not shake her head or nod. She instead stood stiffly, staring wide-eyed at the door.

Daring Do approached the door and grasped the handle. She took a deep breath. A sensation crept through her gut, and she tasted metal. Something bad was on the other side of that door, and she had a feeling that she should leave it closed. That whatever was on the other side would not try to force its way in, that it would leave them alone and in peace after a while. Still, she found herself turning the handle. She had to open it, because she had to know.

She swung it open in a flash, raising her whip, only to be momentarily blinded by a pale orange glow in the darkness. A pony lurched through the door, nearly collapsing on Daring Do. She drew the whip back, but stopped herself. She saw a white mane with a pale green streak, a teal coat, and glasses sat atop an oxygen mask.

“Dulcimer!” she cried.

Dulcimer looked up and staged into the room. He was not in good shape. His skin had grown pale, and his thick and frumpy cold-weather gear was scratched and clawed. One of his orange eyes was swollen shut and had turned an unpleasant shade of mauve.

“Your oxygen,” cried Daring Do, moving to his tank. “You’re low, you idiot- -”

“No,” he wheezed, putting one of his large hooves on hers to push it away. “It’s not the oxygen. Close the door. Please close the door.”

Daring Do did as he suggested, slamming it and locking it, knowing full well that she would have to open it again, for Rainbow Dash at least and probably again for Sweetie Drops when she arrived. With the state Dulcimer was in, she was starting to dread those moments.

“Dulcimer, what happened? What are you even doing here?!”

Dulcimer held up a hoof and sat down. He took a moment to catch his breath and regain his composure. Daring Do waited patiently, even though she was incredibly confused not only to why he had bothered to come here, but HOW he had managed to get to the top of the mountain without a pair of wings.

“My…apologies,” he said, standing up. His eyes- -or rather the one eye that was not nearly swollen shut- -turned sharply toward White. “Oh my. Hello there,” he said, a smile crossing his face. “I didn’t know Ms. Do was working with anypony else.”

White did not respond, except to stand even more erect and stiffly. Her eyes were wide, and although it was difficult to tell from looking into a pair of mechanical devices, Daring Do could have sworn she was terrified.

Dulcimer approached her. “Aren’t you adorable,” he said, his eyes drifting toward the barcode marked into her shoulder. “And interesting that you would be here. Very interesting indeed.”

“You’re making her nervous,” said Daring Do, grabbing White- -who had become deathly cold- -and pushing her out of the way. “She isn’t familiar with strangers.”

“Ah. A stranger, of course. My apologies miss…?”

“Her name is White.”

“White. What a pretty name. Again, my apologies, Ms. White. Oh, in the state I’m in I must have given you quite a fright!”

“Dulcimer, why are you even here? HOW are you even here?”

His demeanor changed instantly, and he seemed to grow more pale. ‘I had to find you. I had to warn you! Ms. Do, I’ve made a terrible mistake!” He breathed deeply and suddenly turned toward the windows. A black crow was sitting in one of them. Dulcimer cried out and slammed the shutters, causing it to caw loudly and fly away.

“Stop that! Come on. Sit down. Tell me what’s wrong.”

Dulcimer sat down in the chair that Daring Do had been sitting in earlier. Daring Do poured him some hot chocolate, and he took it, levitating it in his magic.

“Thank you,” he said, his magic shaking as he took a sip.

“Now. Can you please tell me. What happened to you?”

Dulcimer closed his eyes. “It was terrible. Thoroughly terrible. I barely made it out with my skin.”

“Okay. Let’s try again. This time from the beginning.”

Dulcimer took a sip and sighed deeply, turning up his oxygen concentration with his telekinesis. “I was working. Following the Exmoori leads. When we last spoke you mentioned the dark mage Gxurab Al’Hrabnaz. That gave me an idea, that I might be able to circumvent normal historical archives in favor of…well…arcane texts.”

“You’re kidding.” Daring Do groaned and put her hoof on her face. “Please tell me you’re kidding.”

“I’m afraid I’m not.”

“You’re not a mage! You can barely cast a stable shield spell! Do you have any idea how dangerous that was?!”

“I may not be a wizard,” snapped Dulcimer, “but I AM an academic! I understand how to treat sources properly, even ones that have unsavory origins.”

“Really. And did that ‘understanding’ give you that black eye?”

Dulcimer stared at his cocoa. “No.” He said. “It had nothing to do with the books. As it turns out, the Exmoori left no spells that were transferred into early unicorn works. Or nopony had interest in them apart from Sombra’s agent. That is not what I came to warn you about.” He looked up, and he appeared absolutely terrified. “I’ve made a mistake!” he repeated. “I should never have even looked into this, gone this deep!”

“I don’t understand.”

Dulcimer leaned forward suddenly and whispered. “I’m not the only one searching for information, for the Exmoori!”

“Ah,” said Daring Do. “You met the Questlords.”

Dulcimer pulled his head back, frowning. “Questlords? As in the Questlords of Inverness? The fictional characters from bard songs? No, they’re not even real.”

“Yeah. That’s the consensus on the Exmoori as well.”

“Well, those ponies are wrong. But I assure you, even if a band of knights called the ‘Questlords’ did exist, they’re long departed now. It’s a silly name anyway. No. I found something much, much worse.” He shivered and curled into a fetal position on the chair. As he was large and oddly muscular, the chair buckled and creaked in protest.

“What did you find?”

“I don’t…I don’t know.” He shuddered again. “Something evil. It…it reeked. Not just physically, but magically as well. I think…I think it was a mage. A sorcerer, maybe, or an agent of one. A terrible beast!”

“What did you see?”

“I don’t know!” wailed Dulcimer, bursting out into tears. “It- -it was dark! I was in a private library, and it appeared out of nowhere. Crows…it came with the crows! And the eyes! Those horrible, horrible yellow eyes!”

“Crows?” Daring Do looked to her window. Where a yellow-eyed crow had just been sitting.

“Crows and ravens. I- -I looked up, and there they were. In the library. On the shelves, sitting on the desks. All silent. All…oh Celestia, they were all watching me! And then HE came…”

“Who?”

“The wizard. A dark mage. Horribly dark. I could sense it on his magic. He came to me…he…he beat me. He did things to me. I tried to resist, I tried! Daring Do, please believe me, I tried! But I’m an academic, not a soldier!” He went quiet. “I told him everything I knew. About the Exmoori. And about you. He…he wanted to know about them. The Exmoori.” Dulcimer looked up. “He’s looking for them.”

Daring Do sighed. “That’s not good.”

“No!” Dulcimer sat up suddenly. “You don’t understand the gravity of this! I was nearly slain! And on my way here, to warn you? He attacked me again! Look what he did to my coat!” He gestured to deep gashes torn in his clothing and scratches on his body, as well as small holes that looked like they may have been pecked in by beaks. “You’re in danger! The artifact I sent you to retrieve, it isn’t worth this! Not worth competing with things like THAT! Please, PLEASE! I recant my request! I retract it! I thought it would just be a matter of finding a tomb, retrieving an artifact. Oh, I would have been famous. My theories would be proven right! But- -but- -what good are papers if I’m not around to present them?!”

Daring Do sighed. “First rule of this: it’s never easy. For the record, Caballeron is in the competition too. And he’s got the backing of a group that at least calls themselves Questlords.”

Dulcimer’s eyes widened. “That settles it, then! Ms. Do- -Daring- -It’s too dangerous! For all of us!”

“I’m used to danger.”

“But I’m not! And I’m sure that your daughter or whatever she is isn’t either!”

Daring Do inhaled sharply, knowing that he was right. “Then what do you want me to do? Give up?”

“Of course! Look at me! This isn’t how academic research is supposed to function!”

“And yet it IS how it functions. Every. Single. Time.”

“Then this is ludicrous! I had no idea that it would be this strenuous! Please, Daring, reconsider- -”

“No.”

“But you didn’t even reconsider- -”

“I’ve worked on the translation. That artifact, this Hand of Doom. If Caballeron gets it, all of Equestria will be in danger. And now you tell me there’s a crow-wizard after it too? Yeah, sure, it’s dangerous. But I need to take that risk. If either of those parties gets it…we’re done.”

“Do you even know what this Hand of Doom does?”

Daring Do raised an eyebrow. “Do you?”

“No, of course not! But from everything I know about the Exmoori, it’s likely some ceremonial piece! They didn’t use magic, they didn’t trust it! There is almost no chance of it actually being dangerous, I only mentioned that to you at the start to get you to look for it!”

“That’s not what the rubbings say.”

“You can cover the rubbings in honey and paste them to Celestia’s rump!” cried Dulcimer, shrilly. “The only place they’re leading us is to the grave!”

“Then YOU can back out of it. Go back to Canterlot. Or better yet, go to Ponyville. Nothing will bother looking for you there. I’m staying here. Caballeron already has the Spear of Extinction. I don’t know why but my gut says it’s bad, and I’m way behind.”

“Please, Daring Do, listen to me- -”

“I did listen. But you should know, I don’t back down. Especially when it’s important. And this is VERY important.”

Dulcimer stared at her, and then moaned loudly. “I should have known,” he said, quietly. “Well, then, if I can’t change your mind, please let me beg for your forgiveness. For getting you into all of this. I’m so very sorry, Ms. Do.”

“Don’t be. It isn’t your fault. Besides. This is what I do.”

“Just watch out. Beware the raven mage. His magic is profoundly dark, and his methods are…cruel. Don’t trust a word he says.”

“You don’t have to worry. I’ve dealt with mages before. Dark ones, light ones, and every color in between.”

“Well then I hope you know what you’re doing.” Dulcimer stood up and set his cocoa down. He walked toward the door, but stopped in front of White. He looked over his shoulder at Daring Do. “And…I know I have no right to, but I must make one key request.”

“What?”

“Don’t tell anypony I was here.” He turned to White. “Don’t let anyone know you saw me. Or that you even knew who I was.”

“Sure,” said Daring Do. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Trust me, Ms. Do, of all the things I’ll be worrying about, this will be one of the least. And…” He paused at the door. “Please be careful.”

Daring Do nodded as Dulcimer departed into the night, lighting his way with the orange glow of his horn. She closed the door behind him.

“This doesn’t make any sense,” she said, locking it. She turned toward White. “White, are you- -White, what’s wrong?”

White was shivering violently. She was no longer stiff, but appeared instead to be wobbling on her feet. She turned her eyes toward Daring Do, and it was clear that several tears had run down her cheeks. Then she ducked on the floor and darted under her pile of blankets. This time, she did not allow her head to be exposed. She just sat under the pile, quivering.

Daring Do swore under her breath. “Cadence’s tail,” she whispered. “None of this is right. None of it at all.”

She walked back to the fire and sat down next to the vibrating lump that was White. She set her hoof on the girl, and she jerked back.

“Shh,” said Daring Do. “It’s me. It’s okay.”

The lump crawled closer and pushed itself against Daring Do. Daring Do stroked what she assumed was White’s head, and her shaking slowed. “It’s going to be alright. I promise.”

That, of course, was a lie, and Daring Do knew it. Deep in her gut, she knew that something was about to happen. Things were about to go horribly wrong- -and there was nothing any of them could do to stop it. It was already too late.
 

Chapter 31: A Stallion’s Plan

Caballeron paced the floor of the cave, muttering to himself angrily. He had been doing so for nearly an hour, and he was starting to wear a streak into the granite and quartz floor.

“Boss?”

“Not now, Rogue!” he snapped.

The cave was, despite being a cave, actually quite pleasant. It was warmer than the surrounding mountain, and although the air was still thin and chilly it was habitable. The light came from a combination of torches and tiny but extremely bright crystals that the white Pegasi had brought. Even the furnishings were not bad; these caves had, by their shape, originally been part of the quarry that the Pegasi had used to construct their great city overhead. This particular section had been long abandoned even when Commander Hurricane was young, though, and had been converted at some point into a complicated bunker to store supplies or for the Pegasi to take shelter in times of need. There was furniture carved with stone, as well as a number of exceedingly valuable ancient Pegasus artifacts. Even knowing that they were there, though, Caballeron was too furious to bother even trying to pick them up.

“I never thought I would be agreeing with Rogue,” sighed Argiopé, still taking the form of a goat in a jacket with a plunging fur-coated neckline. She stopped Caballeron and leaned onto him. “I would think you would be happy, herr doktor! We still get paid just as much, and you hardly need to do any work.”

“That’s not the point, Argiopé,” growled Caballeron. “This is a matter of pride! Of professional integrity!”

“And when have you ever had either of those?”

Caballeron blushed. “And have I ever accepted charity? I am supposed to be the boss here! Not them! I am Doctor Pontrancio Caballeron! What right do they have to turn me into some hired stooge?”
“It sounds like you’re interested in glory. Doktor, I expected better of you!”
Caballeron sighed. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Perhaps.” Argiopé ran her cloven hoof along Caballeron’s chest, reaching beneath his scarf. He stood and allowed her to do so, although he was clearly not enjoying it. “But you need the time off. Look at you. You need to sleep…and do other things.”

“Maybe if you didn’t look like a goat?” suggested Rogue.

Argiopé shot him a severe glance, and then smiled at Caballeron. “So maybe you’re not ready for the goat yet. But I can be anything you want.” She smiled seductively and shifted. Her goatish appearance faded, replaced with snow-white skin and a graceful pair of wings. Argiopé closed her eyes and opened them to reveal that they had become large and red. She had in a matter of seconds perfectly- -or as close to perfectly as she could- -replicated one of the white mares. Having not seen one naked before, she had to take artistic liberties; she could not have known that not one of them bore a cutie mark, and that each and every one had a slightly different barcode imprinted on their right shoulder.

Caballeron scowled in disgust and pushed Argiopé away. A look of pure surprise crossed Argiopé’s face; she was sure this was what he had wanted.

“Are you that incompetent?” he spat. “The very pony who is at this very moment dishonoring me, and my entire profession, and you think I would want to see you like THAT?! I would rather see you as a disgusting insect than like that!”

Argiopé gasped. Tears welled in her eyes.

“Boss,” said Rogue, putting his hoof on Argiopé’s shoulder and helping her up. “Come on.”

Argiopé hissed and threw Rogue’s hoof away. She stomped toward Caballeron. In her anger, her shape was beginning shift uncontrollably; she was shifting from a near perfect replica of one of the white Pegasi to a strange pony-insect hybrid. “How dare you!” she spat, her voice distorting as she screamed at him. “How dare you speak to me that way! Do you have any idea how much energy it takes to maintain these forms, how difficult it is to keep coming up with new ones de novo?! In case you haven’t noticed, I don’t HAVE to do this! I do it because I want to make you happy, because you’re incapable of accepting me as I actually am!”

“Argiopé!” exclaimed Caballeron. “You’re out of line- -”

“I don’t care! Don’t think I forgot about what happened in Singapone. I still have the mark, even if you can’t see it!” Caballeron’s face flashed with shame. Argiopé noticed it, but she persisted. “Any other pony- -ANY OTHER PONY- -and I would have already wrapped you in webbing and sucked you dry of your precious fluids. But no. I replicate these FILTHY WINGED MAMMALS that you can’t take your eyes off of!”

Her form had mostly converted back into that of a changeling, and she stood, glaring at him and releasing light hissing sounds from her spiracles. It was her equivalent of breathing hard. “And,” she added, “for the record? I’m an arachnid. NOT an insect.”

Caballeron grumbled. “Sorry,” he muttered. “It’s just that I’m so angry!”

“Do you want to talk about it?” asked Rogue.

“If you would be so kind, Rogue?”

“Yeah, boss?”

“Shut your cake hole. I’m trying to monologue! And get your paws off Argiopé!”

“Oh.” Rogue pulled his hoof away from Argiopé’s white shoulder. “Sorry, boss.”

Caballeron glared at him for a moment, and then continued pacing. “Right now, at this very moment, they are out there, chasing down and capturing her.”

“Who, boss?”

“STOP. TALKING. And you know exactly who I mean. Daring Do.” Caballeron glared toward the only corridor from their current room that led toward the cave entrance. He knew that just a few yards beyond, a pair of armored Pegasus knights were waiting should he try to make an exit. “Right now, they’re capturing her. Tying her up. Maybe even gagging her…”

“Doktor,” whispered Argiopé, her face contorting. “Why?”

Caballeron did not hear her or, as usual when he experienced any sort of passion, ignored her. “I should be the only one permitted to do that! After the trouble she has caused me, all these years? Everything she’s done, everything she’s taken? I should have that right! These- -these PEGASI- -how dare they?! How dare they hire me, then insult me like this? Had I wanted nothing more than to sit in a dank basement and translate dusty texts I would have remained with the institute! This operation is MINE! I deserve it!”

“Well then what do you want us to do?” asked Rogue.

This time, Caballeron did not chastise the henchpony. Instead, he began pacing again. “I need to take control,” he said. “Take back the operation. Gain the upper hoof! To show them that they serve me, not the other way around!”

“But they’re the ones paying us.”

“That does not matter! We’ll still get paid. I would not jeopardize that for all the honor in the world…but I will be the one who gives the orders, who manages what must be done. Or else it will never work properly…” He looked around at the room, at the table they had given him, the lights, the supplies, the binders and pages- -and the stacks and satchels of unique supplies they had given him at the start of the mission, the ones that he had not yet had a chance to utilize apart from their rather expensive robotic drone.

“I still have these supplies. These should be more than enough…”

“But you can’t leave. They won’t let you.”

“No.” Caballeron walked and spoke softly. “No…” a flash of inspiration crossed his face and he smiled deviously. “But you two can.”

“That doesn’t exactly help.”

“Argiopé.”

Argiopé glowered at him, but still restored her Pegasus-pony exterior, complete with a tight-fitting blouse. “Yes, doktor?”

“I really am sorry I treated you so poorly.” He hugged her, then, thinking that he needed to be as convincing as possible, gave her a brief kiss. Her fangs and saliva tasted ghastly, and the process was disgusting, but Argiopé blushed thoroughly. She was still partially in the form of a Pegasus, and her wings immediately sprang outward, nearly striking Rogue in the face.

“Hey!” he cried. “Arg, don’t be vulgar!”

“Never you mind him,” said Caballeron, smiling. “I like your wings. They look so…fluffy. With so much…down?”

Argiopé gasped. “That’s what I was going for…” She shook her head suddenly. “Stop, stop! I know what you’re doing! You’re trying to tempt me with food! After what you just said to me, I should go out there and get Daring Do myself, without you, just for the sake of spite! But…but…” She looked into Caballeron’s deep green eyes and shivered. “Ohhhh…why does it have to be so tasty?”

“But, Argiopé, as tempting as you are, I’m afraid I need to be away from you for a little longer. I need your help.”

“To…to do what…?”

Caballeron frowned. “What do you think?”

Argiopé realized immediately, and shook her head. “No, no that won’t work. They know each other too well. I can’t copy them. They see through it.”

“They see it when you try to copy one of their siblings,” said Caballeron. “But what about a pony that they do not know quite so well?”

Of the henchponies, Argiopé was the smartest. She immediately realized what Caballeron meant, and smiled, showing her vicious changeling fangs. Caballeron gulped, almost unable to believe that he had just put his lips on a mouth like that. But what had to be done had to be done, even if that meant kissing an insect.

The guards suddenly moved. Under normal circumstances, they were capable of standing still for exceedingly long times, in part because of their power armor but also because of extensive training. Their sudden reaction occurred simultaneously but without a triggering event; rather, they had both simply determined that it was time to check on Caballeron, to ensure that he had everything he required.

One of the guards was male, and the other female. Both were relatively young, which was one of the primary reasons why they had not been recruited for the operation to retrieve the pony called Daring Do. Although all of them were supposed to be interchangeable, in practice there were differences. Such differences- -however slight- -could often make a critical difference, especially in a difficult battle.

They passed through arcade of dull gray columns that made up the corridor to the room, and on arriving found Caballeron sitting at his table, apparently quite engrossed by it.

“Your lordship,” asked the mare. “Please excuse us for interrupting. We came to see if you might require anything to assist in your endeavor.”

Both of the guards’ red eyes scanned the room, and they both became aware of the same fact simultaneously. Caballeron was alone. This was unexpected. The earth-pony named Rogue had left earlier, claiming that he had ingested something unpleasant and needed a brisk walk outdoors. Neither of the guards, however, had observed the changeling Argiopé exiting the cave.

“Your lordship,” said the male guard, stepping forward slowly and inspecting the room. The corners were dark, and neither of the guards were equipped with advanced optics. They could not see into the shadows. “You appear to have lost your changeling.”

“Oh,” said Caballeron, looking up. “Of course, yes, well. She shapeshifted into a snake and slithered off somewhere to sulk. After all, I’m sure you heard the argument we were having earlier, and how I was so terribly, horribly rude to her.”

The guards looked at each other, confused.

“Actually,” continued Caballeron, leaning back in his stone chair. “I’ve hardly been able to work, thinking about her. I feel so very terrible, and just the thought of her makes my heart beat so very fast. Of her impeccable sense of fashion, her unwavering commitment to my personal happiness, and of course her smooth, chitinous body.” Caballeron sighed wistfully. “To be totally honest, even after a few moments I miss her and want her back by my side. Not just now, but perhaps forever. No. Surely forever! I want to marry her! To get her an excellent ring with an orange diamond and put it around her long and pleasantly bladed horn, and then to feed her my rich, creamy love every day and night.” He sighed again, wistfully. The guards, by this time, were horribly confused.

“Are you…feeling okay?” asked the mare.

“Only when she is beside me, unfortunately. Surely you can understand.” He pointed toward the male guard. “You must surely know how it feels to be so madly in love. Perhaps with her?” He turned his blue-green eyes toward the Pegasus mare. “I get a strange sense of sibling attraction between you two.”

“You are misinterpreting our relationship,” protested the male.

Caballeron smiled viciously. “Am I?”

“You are. I’m a gelding.”

Caballeron’s smile immediately vanished and he sputtered. “You- -what- -is that- -how- -is that even legal?!”

“Our mother determined that it was necessary. And our mother is always correct. I love her dearly. As I love all my sisters. And my brothers. Where I a stallion? Perhaps you would be correct. Although I’ve never considered myself a romantic.”

“I would also consent to romantic cuddling,” said the mare. “Although at this point it is moot. As is this…bizarre diversion?”

Caballeron leaned forward, glaring into her eyes. He whispered slowly. “There is nothing bizarre about love.”

The albino Pegasus stared back, confused but otherwise nonplussed. “So I take it you are taking a momentary break from work on the translation.”

“Of course, you dullard! How could I focus while thinking about…her…” He sighed longingly. Then he smiled. “Although I’m not being totally nonproductive. Look!” He held up a rather unusual sweater and a pair of knitting needles. “I’m making a sweater! It’s made of silk!”

The gelding blinked. “Where did you get the silk from?”

Caballeron immediately became pale. “I…found it?”

The guards looked at each other, and seemed to silently commune for a moment.

“Of course,” said the female after a moment, looking back. “You are free to knit if you so choose. However, do not neglect the translation. Time is of the essence. I do not mean to be rude, your lordship, but I will be frank with you: as much as we would regret using them, we have…alternate persuasion methods.”

Caballeron gulped. “Of course, of course,” he said, waving a hoof. “You would be remiss if you didn’t! Nice and evil, just like me. But I think I need a nap. A long one.”

“Even without your pet insect?”

“Arachnid.”

“Excuse me?”

“She’s an arachnid.”

The female Pegasus’s eyes narrowed. “Of course,” she said, slowly. “My mistake. Well, then. Come, brother, let us leave his lordship to his rest.”

The male nodded, and the pair of them turned and departed, leaving Caballeron to fall back into his chair and release a prodigious sigh of relief.

The pair was silent until they were out of earshot.

“So,” said the mare. “I believe that the pony we just spoke to was the changeling replicating Lord Caballeron.”

“I disagree,” said the male. “He seemed out of sorts but normal otherwise. I got the impression he really does have a romantic albeit dysfunctional relationship with the arachnid.”

“Hmm.” The female was silent for a moment. “It’s a shame we could not spear a third to help guard. With an even number, we cannot form a consensus. So I suppose we will follow with our current orders.”

“Of course, sister. And…”

“And?”

“Although it may be out of line…were you really serious about the cuddling?”

“We are not capable of lying. Both about the cuddling and it being a moot discussion. Neither of us are adequate for continuation. So there is no point.”

“Yes,” said the gelding, still expressionless and unmoved, as though the mare’s opinion had just been a clarification of an order he had not fully understood. “Of course, sister. Of course.”

Chapter 32: Converging Forces

In the just over thirty years he had existed, few things in Zel’s life had been easy. There was a reason why he had come to be the commander of a mercenary group in Singapone- -one that had, at one point, been considered relatively elite. That single feature could be summarized in a single word: experience.

Three quarters of his life had been spent as a soldier. He had marched through some of the worst conditions possible on his home continent: in sweltering jungles, through dank swamps, and across vast and lethal deserts. He had fought zebras as well as ponies, and spent much of his life hiding in wait in the most dangerous brush in all of greater Equestria, either preparing to attack or fleeing from creatures that had no name in the pony language.

Then, though, there were mountains. Zebrababwe had some of the highest in the world: cold, icy peaks rising high above endless grasslands and humid jungles. And there were zebras that climbed them- -but precious few. That right- -and duty- -was reserved only for the shamans, the mysterious exiles placed in charge of ancient zebra lore. They were the only zebras taught the making of potions and how to use the ancient spells of their people; they were the only ones permitted to use magic.

Zel, though, was empirically no mystic. The cold on Lyskymm was deadly, but to a zebra it cut far deeper, chilling his bones themselves. He was dressed warmly in the clothing that the strange albinos had given him, but even with five layers he sat in the darkness shivering and attempting to gasp for breath through the oxygen mask they had given him. These were, in his opinion, the worse conditions he had ever faced.

“This isn’t funny,” he moaned. “The things I’ll do for money…”

He continued to shiver and slowly freeze in a set of dark and unpleasant evergreens for what felt like hours. Luna’s moon slowly passed overhead, and Zel was surprised to note that it was the same size as it had been his whole life. Even this high, he was no closer to it. The thought would have been humbling if he had not been so cold.

A set of hoofsteps sounded behind him. Zel did not even need to turn to recognize them; he was only aware of six creatures that walked bipedially, and the approaching being was not five of them.

“Boss, hey boss!” called Brass Knuckles. “You’ll never guess what I found!”

“Unless it’s thicker air, / I don’t really care.”

“Come on!”

Zel turned slowly. Brass Knuckles was indeed behind him, dressed in a sleeveless vest and not wearing her mask. It took a moment of staring into the moonlit darkness for Zel to realize that she was not alone.

“By Celestia’s tinted hair! /Brass Knuckles, what is it you have there?!”

“BABY GOATS!”

Brass Knuckles held out her arms to confirm that she indeed did have said goats. In fact, she was outright covered in them. She was hugging several, and more were climbing up her broad shoulders and head. The whole time she was giggling constantly.

“Do I need to give you a whack?! / Where did you even find those? Put them back!”

“But they’re so adorable! And they’re all over the place around here, you know, living in houses and stuff!” One of the goats climbed up onto her head and stood like a statue between her short horns. “Look! I have a goat hat!” Brass Knuckles broke out in joyous laughter as several of her goats released tiny goat sounds.

“What is this, a comedy skit? / Why in Equestria should I tolerate this- -”

A Pegasus landed beside Zel. He looked up to see the mare that he had once thought of as an adequate but largely mediocre soldier, the one with a Mohawk haircut who was in truth a dyed albino.

“Why are you here?” muttered Zel. “Please say it’s to bring more gear…”

“No, commander. Sorry. But we’ve finished the reconnaissance in the downhill sector.” She pointed at a white earth-pony emerging from the brush. Despite it being nearly two in the morning, he was wearing sunglasses. Although Zel was happy enough to work for Caballeron- -provided he eventually paid- -the earth-stallion’s choice in soldiers was borderline absurd.

The Mohawked Pegasus stared at Brass Knuckles. “Brass, where’s your mask?”

“Don’t need it!” she gasped in reply. She immediately struck a pose, causing some goats to jump off her and others to take up perches on her exceedingly well developed minotaur muscles. “Low-altitude cardio!” She flexed. “More endurance means more time at the gym! More time at the gym means more muscle! And more muscle- -” she kissed her enormous biceps. “- -means more of yours truly.”

“Well you’re not in the gym now. And put down the goats. I know you minotaurs have a weird thing for them, but there’s a time and a place. And guess what? This isn’t it. At all.”

“But…they make cute sounds!”

“BAH!” agreed one of the goats, resulting in a chorus of agreement from the rest of them.

The Pegasus just sighed. She turned to Zel. “Our part of the operation is done,” she said. “We’re good to go.”

“Then so begins our hour,” he sighed. He then paused, leaving the Pegasus waiting for the rest of the couplet. “But interesting that you say ‘our’.”

“What, you’re going to ream me for grammar now?”

“He means you’re one of them,” said Withers. He was facing the clearing beyond the bushes, near which the unnamed mountain town was sleeping.

“Seriously?” said the Pegasus. “Yes. We covered that. I figured we moved on. I still work for Zel.”

“Actually I don’t think you are / as dishonesty and disloyalty can reach quite far.”

“When was I ever being dishonest? You never even asked.”

“Right now,” said Withers, sounding surprisingly angry. He turned and glared at her through his sunglasses. Or might have glared; it was impossible to tell due to their opacity. “That’s not your voice.”

The Pegasus, clearly annoyed, sighed. When she spoke again, the cadence and accent of her voice had changed entirely. “The reason I elect not to use this style is that I believe it makes me seem alien. It would make it difficult for me to integrate with your group.” Her eyes moved to Zel, and her voice reverted to its normal pattern. “And right now? If you haven’t noticed, you’ve lost your whole crew. It’s just me and the goat-hugger.”

“I only hugged one!” protested Brass Knuckles. The goat on her head tapped her, and her expression fell. “No. I lied. I hugged them all. Twice.” Another tap. “Three times. Whatever the word for that is.”

“Thrice,” corrected the Pegasus.

“But…we already ate…”

Withers stomped through the brush and confronted the Pegasus by placing himself facing her so close that their noses were nearly touching. The Pegasus did not back down. The two glared at each other for a long time, and an awkward silence permeated the dark night. Even the baby goats made no sounds.

“What you did isn’t cool.”

“So what?”

“I liked you.”

“You don’t now?”

“I have trust issues.”

“Well put a tap in your bung-hole before all the WHINE gets out! Do you know what happens when this is all over? I get bleached, throw out these contacts, and get back in some heavy armor. To be honest, I’m having way more fun getting to be a normal pony for once.”

“Would you cry/ for the loss of a lie?” mused Zel.

“I don’t cry. And I wouldn’t. But after I’m done? I don’t get to see any of you again. So we should make the most of this and take our respective anger out on that winged steed your boss wants so badly.”

“I still don’t like it.”

“Fine.” The Pegasus leaned forward and without warning removed Withers’s mask and kissed him. Brass Knuckles blushed and cried out, trying to shield the eyes of every goat she had stolen.

The Pegasus pulled away and replaced the mask. “There. What do you think now?”

Withers paused for a moment. “My loyalty. It has improved.”

“Mine has not, I’m afraid,” noted Zel. “And try to kiss me, and you’ll be pureed.”

“Because I’m ‘one of them’.”

“No, because you’re not my type. / As you surely know, you don’t have a single stripe.”

“Ha!” laughed Brass Knuckles. “Burnt!”

“Burned,” corrected the Pegasus. “If I have to keep correcting grammar- -”

She did not finish her threat. The shrubs and darkness near her suddenly distorted and a pair of armored Pegasi appeared. As they emerged from their invisibility fields, their helmets split and retracted. As Pegasi, they did not need masks to breath on Lyskymm.

“Forward reconnaissance is complete,” said one of them. “We’ve secured the area. We’re ready to move in.”

Zel sighed, annoyed that he had to give up the pile of extra blankets he was under. He stood, shaking and muttering to himself in his own language and did his best to stretch and try to hide the fact that he could barely feel his legs.

One of the armored Pegasi stepped forward. “Mercenary Zel,” he said.

“One and the same; / that is my name.”

“We took notice of the fact that you are unarmed. We therefore took the liberty of requisitioning this for you.” He removed an object from beneath his cloak and presented it to Zel. Even in the moonlight, Zel could see the gleam of the blade. Perhaps even better in the moonlight.

He turned his eyes up toward the Pegasus stallion. “What you have here/ is a zebra spear. No doubt from your forges, a copy/ although the work is hardly sloppy. A fine piece of steal/ but not as fine as one that’s real.”

“I assure you, our forges have more than enough sophistication and artistry to craft spears far superior to what your kind can normally accomplish. However, the Highers foresaw your resistance. This spear is not a copy. It is the genuine article.”

Zell suppressed a gasp. He suddenly felt far less cold. “A spear of this style has quite a history. /how you came to hold it is a great mystery.”

“There is no mystery. Our ancestors conquered yours. Repeatedly. They took a number of artifacts.”

Zel stared at the Pegasus. He of course fully understood, but not the point where he could identify the exact clan of ponies who these particular Pegasi belonged to. As a mercenary, he did not recognize their insignia, and as a zebra there were far too many orders of knights who had raided his country to distinguish them. The herd who had made this particular spear, though, were long extinct. Their stories lived on, though; there were whispered, hushed tales about hordes of monstrous, unbreakable unicorns.

Despite this dark history, Zel took the spear and maneuvered it in a flash so that its butt was against the frosty ground. He gently tapped the tip of the blade, and the detailed inscriptions of zebric runes illuminated briefly. Zel nodded. The spear was indeed real, and it was of excellent heritage. It had clearly once belonged to a powerful shaman.

“What about the rest of us?” asked the dyed Pegasus.

“You were the one who elected to enter battle without your armor.”

“It is nice armor,” noted Withers, who was nearly plastered to one of the Pegasi’s rump, inspecting the detail of the robotics. “Fancy.”

“Please do not touch it,” sighed the Pegasus. Withers looked up, nodded, and moved to the other Pegasus.

“Not him either.”

“Oh. Can I have some?”

“Some armor? No. Because we do not have a month to train you how to talk in it, let alone fight. And if what Lord Caballeron says is true, there will be fighting.”

“Lord,” snorted Withers, perceiving the title as a joke. No one bothered to correct him.

“So,” said Zel, moving out of the bushes and toward the town. “Let us go collect this mare/ before my body is as thin and cold as this horrid air.”

The others nodded, and one by one they joined him. The white Pegasi allowed him to lead, as it had been Caballeron’s suggestion- -and because they needed have a vanguard to confirm if Daring Do was as strong as was claimed. He would take point until they met their last member, who was waiting for them ahead.

As they left, though, one of the baby goats mewed strangely. The Pegsus with the Mohawk paused and stared into the woods. She quickly turned back and took her attack position; without enhanced eyes, there was no way she could have seen the gleam of a pair of blue eyes staring back at her, or heard the soft jingle of silver as the owner of the eyes started moving swiftly out of the woods and toward a very specific house.

Rainbow Dash sat in the small living room of the dark, cold shack, absently poking the dying fire with a metal rod. It sparked and hissed as the coals were exposed, and after a few moments Rainbow Dash sighed and threw on another wet, malformed log. It sat still for a moment, and then burst into acrid flames. Rainbow Dash moved backward and sat against a tilted, broken chair.

Daring Do was beside her, staring at the fire. Pushed against her was a lump of blankets that contained White, who was sleeping. She was the only one; Daring Do did not want to, and for the first time in a long time Rainbow Dash found that she could not.

They were silent for a long time. Then Daring Do finally spoke.

“How was it?”

Rainbow Dash did not even wait to reply. “Awesome.”

“Agreed.”

“On the way down, though, I did think of something.”

“It’s too late for philosophy, Dash. And trust me. Any philosophy you get at your age will look ridiculous by the time you get to mine.”

“I might be an egghead, but I’m not THAT eggy. No. It was about the Exmoori.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I was just thinking…the timeline doesn’t match up.”

Daring Do raised an eyebrow. “Timeline?”

Rainobow Dash nodded. “See, that thing you have? All those pictures? Those were taken from something carved by the Mighty Helm, right?”

“Yes. A marker in one of their outposts. An outpost that has since been lost.”

“Then that means that whatever it was based on- -the Exmoori one- -was probably already really old when they found it, right?”

Daring Do thought for a moment. “Not necessarily. But it’s likely. I don’t think they would have found it if the pony that carved it still owned it.”

“So it was probably already ancient, right?”

“Possibly. But not necessarily.”

“But according to the legend, Commander Hurricane did in the last Exmoor pony up on this mountain.” Rainbow Dash pointed toward the summit.

“So?”

“It’s like in the play. Commander Hurricane was around at the same time as Clover the Clever, and Clover the Clever was one of Starswirl the Bearded’s students. And Starswirl was only around at the very end of the Mighty Helm…”

Daring Do looked up sharply. “You’re right.” She wracked her brain for a moment. “Clover the Clever was around one hundred and fifty at the time of the Unification. That isn’t old for a unicorn, but- -”

“But it means that the last Exmoor pony must have been really old if he carved that warning thing and THEN got offed by Commander Hurricane.”

“She. Exmoori language is not ambiguous on gender; it was a matriarchal culture.”

Rainbow Dash frowned. She did not say it, but she had taken note of what Absence had told her- -and the fact that she had referred to the last Exmoor pony as a “he”.

Daring Do thought for a moment. “Based on the carving techniques, this wasn’t late in the Might Helm’s reign. Probably.” She sighed. “It depends on tools, techniques, the artist- -and traditions we don’t know anything about.”

“But then the last Exmoori would have to be really, REALLY old.”

“Which isn’t inconceivable. Powerful or pureblooded unicorns can live for up to five centuries. The Exmoori might have been similarly long lived. Or the last Exmoor pony might have given the original text to the Mighty Helm as a warning, if they were the closest pony nation to her.”

“But what if there were two?”

Daring Do shook her head. “There can’t be.”

“Of course there can. Who says the pony that wrote all that stuff didn’t lie?”

“Because- -” Daring Do cut off, realizing that Rainbow Dash was right. In her own long experience, ancients texts NEVER lied; they always told the exact locations of ancient, loot-filled temples and described the riddles appropriate for entry exactly. Daring Do had never considered that an ancient text could outright lie, and the implications were horrifying. The last Exmoor pony had quite clearly wanted to keep ponies away from the Hand of Doom- -but if she had falsified her warnings and plans for any traps she set, then it would be impossible to predict what one would find upon entry to her ancient lair.

Daring Do was about to comment on this when she was nearly knocked over. The pile of blankets next to her had suddenly moved with such force and speed that even Rainbow Dash was surprised, and a winged white streak had shot silently from beneath it. Before either of them could turn their heads, they heard the sound of a hoof slamming against something hard.

“For Celestia’s sake!” snapped Sweetie Drops, nearly at a whisper. “It’s ME you albino freak!”

White continued to glare at her, and did not lower her defensive stance. Sweetie Drops held her sword in one hoof; she had not drawn it, but had rather used it to block White’s blow with the blade still sheathed in the thick scabbard.

“Wait,” said Rainbow Dash. “Bon Bon, where did you come from? And since when do you know how to use a sword?”

“I don’t have time for twenty questions.” Her wide blue eyes turned to Daring Do, and immediately both Daring Do and Rainbow Dash knew that something was wrong.

“How many?”

“Six, possibly seven. More than half are like her.” She gestured toward White. “They’re coming for you.”

“Then we have to get out of here.”

“No way!” cried Rainbow Dash. “We need to stay and fight! Come on, you’re Daring Do! You could take on twice that number all alone!”

“If they were just thugs, sure.” Daring Do was already grabbing her coat. “But it took everything I had to take down just ONE of them in Southern Equestria.”

“But there’s four of us! She has a sword! And you have ME!”

“Yes. And I’m not about to put you or White in danger. What Sweetie Drops does is her own problem. Now we need to go. NOW.”

“No chance,” said Sweetie Drops. “I had to backtrack to not get spotted. They’ve already got the place surrounded.”

“Oh, really?” snapped Daring Do, suddenly whispering. “And it would be nice if you, oh, I don’t know, LED WITH THAT!”

“It would be nice if you hadn’t gotten the ONE house on the outskirts of town!”

“Do you have any idea how hard it was to get this house?!”

“Well then you should just dig a hole and sleep outside!”

“I think after forty years of adventuring I’ve earned the right not to sleep in a hole!”

White stamped her hoof. Rainbow Dash nodded in agreement. “She’s right! Stop arguing! If we can’t run?” She giggled slightly at the thought of it. “Then it looks like we get to fight!”

Daring Do sighed, and grabbed her whip off the table.

“A whip?” snapped Sweetie Drops. “Seriously? The only weapon we have is a whip?!”

“You have a sword.”

“Yes, a vedmak sword! It’s meant for fighting monsters! I’d really, REALLY rather not draw it against ponies. Not now and not ever.”

White suddenly turned toward the door. She saw something through it. Something was coming.

Daring Do stiffened. “Well, I guess sometimes we have to do things we don’t want to.”

Chapter 33: The Confrontation Begins

The frigid night air blew through the wooded village, making the needles of the dark, gnarled trees sway and rustle strangely. All of the native ponies were asleep, as were the goats. Their thin, thick-glassed windows were dark, save for the glow from fires within their houses. The group moved in silence, even though it was not necessary. These ponies had lived for countless generations on the slopes of Lyskymm, and they knew the things that lurked in the night, that rose up from the caves or came down from the cursed city that loomed overhead.

None of those monsters or specters appeared on this night, perhaps because they knew that they were not needed. The ponies that moved through the darkness toward one particular, crooked house on the outskirts were far more deadly than any amarok or ijrac that might be wandering the icy night.

As they approached, a shape drifted downward from above and took the lead. She was the pony known to Rainbow Dash as Absence, and the leader of the operation. She arrived wearing armor, although of a more advanced type than the others. Hers was thinner and lighter, and partially obscured by a thick cape.

She touched down just in front of the zebra, and the zebra nodded in response and fell back. Even he was able to see that she was meant to take the lead, a position that left the pony sometimes known as Absence feeling oddly uncomfortable.

The front of the group stopped, while those on the edge fanned outward. The building had two entrances, although one had been mostly overgrown by a substantial laurel tree, leaving only one viable entrance or exit apart from the windows. Their target was trapped.

And, with their target trapped, they were all deeply surprised when the front door swung open and Daring Do, dressed in a thick green jacket and carrying a damaged whip at her side, stepped out to meet them.

Equally surprising was the fact that she was not alone. There were three other ponies behind her. The first to exit and stand at her side was a blue Pegsus with a short rainbow mane.

The commander of the group gasped, although not loud enough for the others to hear. She immediately retracted her helmet, allowing it to fold behind her head.

“Rainbow Dash,” she said.

“Absence?” Rainbow Dash looked profoundly confused. “What- -what are you doing here?!”

“You’re not supposed to be here,” snapped Absence in return, ignoring the question. “Go back inside. This doesn’t concern you.”

One of the flanking armored Pegasi suddenly stepped forward. It was not an aggressive posture, though, and he retracted his helmet as well. In the moonlight, it was clear that he was staring wide-eyed at the pony who had stealthily emerged from behind Rainbow Dash.

“Sister?” he gasped.

The girl looked up. She was still wearing her armor, and her artificial eyes glimmered in the dim light. A surprised expression came over her face, and she rushed forward to meet the red-eyed soldier. They hugged. “We thought we’d lost you!” said the stallion, holding her tightly. “Sister, I’m so glad you are safe!”

“Safe,” noted Absence, “but standing on the wrong side.”

“Wrong side?” the stallion looked up at her, and his brother appeared confused even through his helmet. “Sister, are you implying…no! We can’t fight our own sibling!”

“Of course not,” snapped Absence. “Doing so would be utterly impossible. Nor do I intend to fight Rainbow Dash, as she is…” She paused for a moment. “…my friend. Or anypony for that matter.” While she said the last part, her red eyes drifted toward the last pony, an earth-mare she did not recognize. One who seemed to be entirely unaffected by the chill in the air and who bore a single sheathed sword on her back.

“You brought an awful lot of soldiers for not wanting to fight,” said Daring Do, slowly.

“A precaution. We were warned that you were quite dangerous.”

“By Caballeron?”

“By a well-paid consultant. So yes. But as dangerous as you are, you are outnumbered.”

“So, what? You want to talk?”

“I never thought I’d say this,” whispered Rainbow Dash. “But that actually works more often than you’d think.”

“Rainbow Dash. I told you to leave.”

“Why are you here, Absence? What is this? You’re- -” Rainbow Dash gasped. “You’re one of THEM!”

The earth-mare slapped the back of Rainbow Dash’s head. “COME ON!” she hissed.

“My objective does not lie with you, Rainbow Dash. It lies strictly with Daring Do. You and my sister, please go back inside. I do not want to hurt you. And I do not want you to see what we are about to do.”

“And what exactly is that?” asked Daring Do. Her expression remained stoic.

“Your methods and behaviors are contrary to our mission, our values, and the good of Equestria as a whole. As such, our orders are to terminate you.” She drew her half-serrated sword from its scabbard beneath her cape. “Without hesitation, without mercy, and without remorse.”

Absence’s sister with her robotic eyes gasped audibly and pushed away from her brother, retreating to the line of ponies she had come from. She shook her head, trying to express her displeasure with her orders. Absence did not understand why.

“You daughter of a hoarder!” cried the half-frozen zebra at Absence’s side. “That was NOT our order!”

“It was mine,” said Absence. With a sudden motion so quick that it was almost imperceptible, she leapt forward, raising the sword over her head. She watched as Daring Do perceived what was happening, and saw the look of realization cross her eyes. By then, though, it was too late. The sword was descending, and there was no time for her to dodge.

The entire village shook from the clang of metal against metal. Absence was showered by a plume of hot violet sparks as her sword ground against that of the earth-mare: a strange, silver blade inscribed with glowing runes.

The earth-mare shifted position, parrying Absence’s blade with lightning speed and moving to strike. Absence responded by pivoting her sword on its hoof-ring and catching the earth-mare’s silver blade on one of the serrations of her own.

Both rotated, swirling away from one another until they were standing three paces apart, each holding their blades at the ready. The earth-mare took a strange stance that Absence did not recognize.

“You have an excellent blade,” noted Absence.

“You too. Any other sword and I would have cut it clean in half.”

“The same is true of mine.”

“It’s some good workmanship. But you don’t have any runes.”

“No. As I don’t need them.”

Absence shot forward. The earth-mare pirouetted so fast that the only visible part of her motion was the flash of her blade. She came up from below where Absence could not parry, so rather than even attempt to do so, Absence extended one of her forelegs. The silver blade sparked and arced on her armor, damaging it badly in the process. Had it been a direct cut, it would have gone through; however, being at an oblique angle, Absence was able to force the blade out of the way long enough to strike the earth-mare in the nose with the ring of her sword. The earth-mare’s head was knocked back- -and then brought down against Absence’s forehead.

Even with her titanium reinforced skull, the impact from the blow sent Absence reeling.

“Ha,” said the earth-mare, blowing her already swelling nose. “That’s what happens when you try to challenge an earth-pony.”

Absence shook her head, trying to clear it. Even though the titanium had not worked as well as she had hoped, it had allowed her to stay conscious.

“So the least sort of pony can fight,” she said. “Very well. So be it.”

She lifted her blade and took flight as the earth-mare with the rune-marked blade rushed forward toward her.

As they fought, Zel flashed past, cursing the cold as he did. He took the opportunity to raise his spear and charge Daring Do herself. He simply could not allow the albino Pegasi to “terminate” her, both for the sake of customer service for Caballeron and because of how strongly he desired to once again fight the mare who he had witnessed uttering a spell that was supposed to be known only to zebra shamans. The thought of it excited him.

Except that he never reached her. A flash of white appeared out of the corner of his vision, and he raised the haft of his spear just in time to block a blow from a thinly armored hoof- -but not a second blow that struck him on the side of the face.

The white mare with the strange eyes was attacking him with unbridled fury. Her attack was swift- -far more swift than Zel had anticipated from such a young-looking mare- -and almost perversely silent. Her motions made no noise, and although her mouth was opened for a scream, no sound came out.

“Your siblings may refuse to bite/ but I will NOT shy away from this fight!” cried Zel. He spoke the words to a spell and the blade of his spear flashed with the thin, flowing runes that covered it. With a swift jab, he rammed it forward toward the white Pegasus.

She held up one of her forelegs in defense. The spear poked through her thin armor with ease and pricked her, but was stopped dead on the alloy of her ulna.

Zel’s eyes widened. “What- - what did you do?! / What even ARE you?!”

The mare did not answer. She shoved the spear out of the way and leapt forward into battle. All without a single word or sound.

Across from her, an even more qualified white Pegasus charged at Rainbow Dash, intending to tackle her. He was quick- -far more so than a normal pony, either do to his innate speed or the robotics in his armor- -but nowhere near as quick as Rainbow Dash. She ducked and punched him in the stomach, directly where his ribs met his gut. There was, of course, no effect; he was wearing several inches of metal plate on his body.

Rainbow Dash recoiled and turned, recalling her training. Although they were largely for show, the Wonderbolts were technically still part of the Royal Air Force, and consequently the Equestrian military. She had spent a great deal of time in the required hoof-to-hoof combat training, and had even managed to get Soarin on his back and pinned- -more than once. The training only augmented her experience from many, many fights, usually started over cider or Fluttershy’s honor.

How exactly to deal with a pony wearing power-armor had never been covered in the lessons, though. Rainbow Dash had no idea what to do. Punching something like a changeling was one thing; punching a walking tank- -or getting punched by said tank- -was another thing entirely.

And she did get punched. The blow landed exactly where she had tried to strike the armored Pegasus. Rainbow Dash’s wind was knocked from her and she was thrown back. The only reason she was not completely incapacitated was the thick jacket she was wearing combined with the fact that she had been in the air at the time, where she could just be thrown rather than pounded into the ground.

She landed beside Daring Do, who had just unleashed her whip and lashed the rump of a pony wearing sunglasses despite it being the middle of the night. He squealed, and this apparently greatly angered a Pegasus mare with a Mohawk, who charged with gusto only for Rainbow Dash to suddenly lift her legs and buck the mare in the elbows. She was at least more stoic than the stallion; rather than shriek she went pale and said several words in a language that Rainbow Dash could not understand.

Rainbow Dash promptly shot to her feet. “Hey,” she said, nearly breaking out in excited laughter, “Daring! Behind you!”

Daring Do executed a flip without looking, barely dodging the charge from the other armored pony. He wheeled around and faced her, only to be blocked by Rainbow Dash.

“Hey!” she cried. “Over here! You guy’s mother sucks fat greasy CUCUMBERS!”

“What our mother chooses to suck or not to suck is none of your business,” snapped the nearest Pegasus knight.

“Well then why don’t you prove me wrong? HA!” Rainbow Dash leapt into the air, spreading her wings. “Daring! Those guys can’t fly in all that armor, they’re too heavy! They’ll never catch me!”

One of the armored Pegasi looked up at her. Rainbow Dash could not have seen it, but the internal HUD of his helmet shifted, displaying a new combination of meters and interface metrics. “Igniting,” he said.

Several pieces of his armor folded outward, and the apertures concealed beneath burst with red flame that rapidly resolved to blue. As the jets lifted him into the air, the Pegasus spread his wings from beneath the armor as well as several robotic stabilizers.

“Cadence’s soft underbelly!” swore Rainbow Dash, immediately shooting into the air as the armored Pegasus followed in hot pursuit.

Daring Do elected to stay on the ground. These armored suits were not like the one she had seen in Southern Equestria: they did not seem to have air holes. Daring Do supposed that they had an oxygen supply built in for the altitude, which would have put her at a severe disadvantage if she tried to take flight. Luckily, despite being outnumbered, the fight was reasonably balanced: Rainbow Dash had distracted one of the armored Pegasi while White had driven the zebra nearly back into a nearby ravine.

The Pegasus with the Mohawk recovered from the blow to her joints and lunged at Daring Do. Daring Do swirled and punched at her, only for her to dodge- -just as one of the armored Pegasi leapt toward her. Daring Do dodged again, this time nearly having to lie on the ground. She then rolled, barely in time to avoid an armored metal hoof straight to the frozen ground where her head had just been.

She lashed out with her whip again, this time striking the unarmored Pegasus on her side. The dragon leather cut deeply into her clothing, leaving a gash that stuffing and feathers leaked from. The mare winced; part of the whip had struck her exposed wing.

The impact knocked the mare off balance, forcing the white earth-stallion she was with to have to catch her. Daring Do recognized him as Withers. He was one of Caballeron’s goons.

“Hey Withers!” she cried.

The stallion looked at her, confused. “What?”

She answered his question with a kick to his face that snapped his sunglasses cleanly in half.

This, however, proved to be a mistake. The Pegasus mare and the armored stallion both leapt at once, throwing Withers out of the way. The mare pinned Daring Do, and the stallion wrapped his hooves around her. Daring Do heard the mechanical whine of his armor as he began to squeeze. Her ribs popped, and she would have screamed if she had any air left.

A flash of silver crossed within inches of her head, severing at least a quarter of her mane in the process. The stallion suddenly cried out beneath his helmet and one of his hooves went limp. Luminescent hydraulic fluid sprayed out over the frozen ground, converting both Daring Do and the mare with a Mohawk.

“My contacts!” screamed the mare, grabbing at her eyes uselessly. “I can’t see!”

She released Daring Do’s legs, and Daring Do flipped herself over, ignoring the pain, and kicked the armored stallion off her. With the robotics severed on one of his front legs, he lumbered forward at a speed far too slow for him to catch Daring Do. Daring Do unfurled her whip, grabbing one of his rear legs and pulling. He was knocked off balance entirely and fell hard against the stony ground.

Sweetie Drops slid across the path, arriving next to Daring Do.

“Thanks.”

“You need to get out of here!” Sweetie Drops was breathing hard and, despite the cold, sweating. “It’s you they want! MOVE!”

Sweetie Drops flipped as the white Pegasus struck once more. She reeled backward and lifted her sword to defend against the second blow, then to feint and attack. The mare fell for the feint, but dodged the attack. The blade cut within millimeters of one of her ears, and she neither flinched nor blinked. Her red eyes stared unblinkingly at Sweetie Drops. She almost looked bored.

The fight was not going as well as it should have, and Sweetie Drops knew why. While she was able to fight ponies if the situation called for it, her training had been in fighting monsters. They were larger, stronger, and often faster, but they did not move the same way ponies did. The motions she knew by heart had to be modified constantly. Making matters worse, her oxygen supply was running low. She had expended most of it climbing the mountain and had not had time to chance it on arrival. The thinner it got, the more she began to slow.

The Pegasus, meanwhile, wore no mask and required no oxygen augmentation. In fact, she barely seemed to grow tired. Even after the intense duel had gone on for several minutes, she was neither out of breath nor showed any signs of slowing.

“Are you even a pony?” gasped Sweetie Drops, not expecting the Pegasus to hear.

“No,” she replied curtly.

The Pegasus took flight and descended rapidly. Sweetie Drops parried again. Although the Pegasus, as a Pegasus, had the advantage of flight, it actually made her less efficient if only because Sweetie Drops had been trained for many years on how to deal with flying monsters. She had, after all, once singlehoofedly taken on a bugbear; a single Pegasus with a sword- -no matter how hard or sharp it was- -was nothing compared to that.

The mare circled, trying to find a path to Daring Do. Sweetie Drops did not let her. However, as she threw herself into position, a shape appeared from the dark. A shape of a minotaur.

A fist slammed into Bon Bon’s side with incredible force. “BOOM!” she cried. Hearing her voice was odd; Sweetie Drops, in all her travels, had never met a female minotaur. “HA! You just got BROKE, son!”

Except that Sweetie Drops had dug her hooves into the hard earth and barely been moved a foot. She looked up into the Minotaur’s face and saw her go pale. “Celestia darn it you’re stupid. I’m an earth-pony. And I’m BUSY.” She pivoted and punched the minotaur in the gut. The blow knocked the minotaur back several meters as her eyes bugged out, and she doubled over, coughing. She had, apparently, been unaware that while earth-ponies could neither fly nor use magic, they tended to have exorbitant strength.

As a non-pony form of life, a minotaur would technically have qualified for the use of the silver sword. Sweetie Drops, though, was a merciful pony. She instead flipped and struck the minotaur in the face with a resounding kick, then as she fell struck her again in the side. The minotaur never felt the second blow; she had been concussed into unconsciousness by the one to her head.

Only then did Sweetie Drops barely manage to get the sword over her back in time to block a slash from above. The runes on the blade sparked in protest as the white Pegasus whirled around. Sweetie Drops whirled as well and blocked. As boring as this was, she found herself wishing that the ponies that the griffons who had trained her to use that sword could have seen this fight.

Chapter 34: Skirmish

Rainbow Dash pulled her wingtips in and tilted into a tight corkscrew. The maneuver was flawless and so tight that any normal pony would have been thrown off course into a parallel course. The pony that was pursuing her, however, did not err. He followed Rainbow Dash’s course perfectly, moving at an even tighter angle to gain distance in an attempt to cut her off.

Accelerating, Rainbow Dash flew into a climb. She heard the jets of the other Pegasus pass just beneath her, and then change as he began to ascend alongside her. The two of them spiraled together, climbing ever higher.

For the first time since getting to Lyskymm, Rainbow Dash was not cold. It had been days since she had been able to fly all-out, and the strong muscles that kept her wings cycling provided more than enough heat for the rest of her body.

Of course, maneuvering at this altitude was not easy. It was, in fact, essentially impossible. The thin air made everything from motion to banking difficult, not to mention the effect it had on breathing. Even with her flawless and efficient lungs, Rainbow Dash was quickly running out of oxygen from her exertion. Her pursuer, meanwhile, barely moved his wings; he instead used them strictly to control his movements while the jets in his suit provided thrust. There was really no other way to operate under these conditions; unassisted flight simply could not be accomplished effectively- -and Rainbow Dash relished the challenge.

She suddenly spread her wings. The air caught in them, and she felt the familiar sensation of her bones creaking as she was forced to slow so quickly that she began to redoubt. The pony ahead of her attempted to do the same thing, but he could not slow quite as quickly. His jets gave him speed, but he was still heavy. He spread his wings and shuddered downward. By that time, though, Rainbow Dash had already circled around in a large vertical arc and was continuing to shoot upward at incredible speed.

The armored Pegasus used machines to correct his flight and to make him faster and stronger. That, Rainbow Dash knew, meant that she had the advantage. Even with all that technology, he was barely keeping up with her- -meaning he was not by default a superior flyer. The chase had been complicated and exhilarating, but Rainbow Dash needed to end it. She was running out of air and beginning to grow nauseous, a sensation that only grew stronger as she powered fathom after fathom toward the endless black, star-speckled sky overhead.

The only way to win was to do something that the other pony could not do. Which was exactly Rainbow Dash’s specialty.

Zel was once again driven back by a hoof to his chest. The thick clothing he wore for warmth gave him some padding, but the mute Pegasus who he was fighting seemed to know exactly where to strike for maximum pain.

As a zebra, however, Zel was more than stoic enough to continue fighting even after she tried to hurt him- -and to never once loose his composure, even as fear began to sweep over him.

The Pegasus was relentless. She did not seem to tire or to slow. Worse, her relentless forward impetus had pushed Zel back into the forest and into a deep ravine that was thick with dark trees.

The attacks suddenly stopped and Zel realized that he was both alone and standing in complete darkness. He immediately muttered a complicated zebric spell, and he felt a strange warmth in his eyes. The spell was not as powerful as it could have been- -he did not know the structure of its secondary couplets- -but it was adequate. He immediately became able to see in the darkness, at least slightly.

For a moment he took this as an advantage. In the past, it always had been. Fighting in pitch black, moonless conditions, this particular spell would allow him to strike unseen and without warning. Although the moon was out, it barely filtered through the trees, leaving only strange bright mottling on the mountain laurels and rocks of the ground below. It was almost perfectly dark.

And this time, the darkness proved not to be Zel’s ally. He saw a shape just outside his visual range, a dark thing moving amongst the black trunks in complete silence- -and then felt as a knife cut through the rear of his jacket. He turned to see the Pegasus girl disappear yet again, and saw the glint of a short knife in her teeth.

She turned and struck again. Zel raised his spear to block, but she ducked around it and struck him in the leg. He winced and dropped to one knee, raising his spear and successfully blocking another attack. The mare jumped back, landing perfectly on a horizontal fallen truck before vanishing in a near instant. Before she did, Zel saw her eyes. The metal irises had opened completely, revealing numerous massive, reflective pupils. Zel’s heart fell as he realized that he had not been driven into the dark woods by accident. She could see perfectly. Even without the moon, or without any light at all, she would never stop seeing.

“By Celestia’s sun,” he whispered under his heavy breath. “What have those fools done?”

No one answered. There was no one to answer, or at the very least no one who could talk. The answer came, though, in the form of a rock kicked outward from some dark shadow. Zel did not have time to duck, and it struck him in the face. Or, more precisely, it struck him in his oxygen mask.

Immediately he felt cold air on his lips. He gasped, realizing what that meant. The mask had been at the very least cracked, and he was losing oxygen to the unbreathable air outside.

“No, no!” he cried, trying to cup his hooves over the hole. “Please don’t go!”

In his distraction, he did not notice the sudden rush of white wings behind him. He was struck in the side, and he heard the ripping of steel through fabric. Although his soft, striped zebra skin remained intact, he realized that several key seams on his coat had been ripped away.

“NO!” he cried again, raising his spear. This time he managed to strike his target, if only slightly: the tip of the spear imbedded itself in the thin chest armor that his adversary wore.

He did not drive it forward. There was no reason to- -and he knew what it would cause if he tried. Despite his role, Zel knew the way the world worked and the way it was meant to- -and he knew what lines must never be crossed. He had won, if only symbolically. The Pegasus stood, staring at him, the spear, the trees, and the stones around them all at once. She did not move, because there was no need to.

Then Zel fell to his knees. The Pegasus reached out and grasped his mask. Then she tore it away. Zel immediately began to gasp and wheeze, feeling his lungs restricting from the subzero air that he was suddenly breathing. It was too thin, and he felt the world growing dim. He had won, but that thought brought him no comfort as he watched through his fading vision as the Pegasus picked up his spear.

Zel tried admirably to hold onto it, but he was already growing numb. The Pegasus managed to wrench it from his grasp. She turned it around and held the point over Zel’s neck. Then she raised it, preparing to bring it down. Zel sighed. He was already unable to feel terribly much on account of the numbness around him; his only regret was not being able to fight the Pegasus called Daring Do. He wondered if in another world- -another life- -she and him might have been friends.

The spear came down.

“NO!” cried a voice. The silence of the forest ended in an instant as the scream echoed through the trees and off the mountain. The point of the spear stopped an inch from Zel’s throat, and he turned. Through a gap in the trees, he was sure he could see Daring Do, her eyes wide with panic. The white Pegasus did not reply to her, but was staring at her, questioningly.

Panting, Daring Do shouted through the trees. “You can’t! You can’t do that! Not now, not ever! I won’t let you.”

The white Pegasus’s brow furrowed. Clearly she could not understand.

“Please,” said Daring Do.” White, put down the spear.”

White- -if that was truly her name- -did not oblige. At least not at first. Then, without any other warning, she threw the spear down onto Zel.

Zel, who was now convulsing from the cold, weakly grabbed her hoof. “P- -please!” he gasped. “Oxygen! For my wheeze! And I’d give all…all my gold…/if I wasn’t so…so cold!”

White stared at him for a moment, and then shook her head. It was the last thing Zel saw before he passed out completely.

Overhead, Rainbow Dash had reached her operational limit. The air was so thin, there was no possibility of breathing. She had held her breath for the last hundred fathoms, and slowly turned as she descended. Her opponent was low and rising at an oblique angle. He knew that Rainbow Dash would attack from above, and he was prepared.

Rainbow Dash pulled her wings close to her body and dove. Her speed accelerated rapidly, and she suddenly extended her wings, beating them as fast as she could, driving herself down even faster. The peaks of Lyskymm were looked tiny for a moment, but then seemed to grow vastly in a matter of seconds.

The armored pony rose to meet her. A blade flicked out from one of his hooves, and Rainbow Dash knew that neither of them would be turning back from this confrontation. Instead of changing course, she accelerated, driving harder and harder through the thin air, falling straight toward him at incredible speed.

The air in front of her began to compress, generating an intermediate luminous wake as Rainbow Dash pushed through. She assessed her speed and realized that what she was trying to do might not even be possible at this altitude. Even with that thought, she did not slow down even for a moment.

The Pegasus approaching her from the other side saw her diving at incredible speed, and he did not understand what was happening. The rainbow pony bore no weapons, and no armor; a direct collision with his armored body would be severe for both of them. His confusion only grew when he saw the air around her forming a polychromatic wake, flickering with numerous colors as she accelerated downward.

Her descent was too rapid. He knew that he had to win, and to do so immediately. Without remorse or hesitation, he raised one of his hooves and activated the firing system within his armor. A six-inch long steel spike exploded forth, targeted with exacting precision between Rainbow Dash’s eyes. Rainbow Dash did not have time to dodge.

Nor did she need to. The spike never reached her. When she was less than ten feet away from the armored pony and less than two inches away from the spike, she exceeded the speed of rainbows.

The entire forest below shook from the force of the blast, and the night’s sky was suddenly illuminated as bright as day by an expanding ripple of brilliant rainbows. The battle below stopped in its tracks. White stared up, her multiple mechanical retinas wide with awe as she perceived colors that most ponies could not even comprehend. Sweetie Drops nearly broke out in laughter at how ridiculous it was, and even Absence turned to look. Having left herself open and unguarded, she suddenly felt something wrap tightly around her rear leg and realized instantly that it was a whip.

The townsfolk, likewise, also saw the rainboom. They had been awoken by the commotion of the fight at the edge of town, and when they heard the explosion and saw the light, they trembled in fear- -but only for a moment. They did not understand what was happening, so they responded the way they always did when something occurred that they did not understand: they raced to their barns and sheds to retrieve pitchforks and torches.

High above, Rainbow Dash continued to rocket through the air, now leaving a complete and glowing rainbow behind her. She could not help but laugh- -but her mirth only lasted for a few seconds.

Below, she saw her opponent falling. His damaged thrusters flickered and trailed smoke, and as he spiraled downward one wing flapped uselessly while the other hung limp at an odd angle. It was only then that Rainbow Dash realized that they had drifted quite a distance away from the forest, and they were no longer over it. They were instead out farther, and had been flying beyond the sheer cliffs that dropped many miles onto jagged crags below.

On the ground, Absence’s eyes widened. “BROTHER!” she cried. With one swift motion she turned, driving her blade through the notch in Daring Do’s whip that White had already left. The blade hacked through and the whip snapped in half, freeing Absence. She soared into the air, but it was too late. She was too far. They were all too far.

Rainbow Dash arced downward, putting an incredibly amount of stress on her wings. They almost buckled under the force of taking a ninety degree turn at the speed of sound, and she left a trail of feathers that had been painfully plucked by the sheer force.

Then she shot downward, leaving a rainbow trail as she descended. The injured Questlord continued to fall, desperately trying to compensate for the fact that his now useless armor was weighing him down. He was dropping fast, but Rainbow Dash was diving faster. With another sharp turn, she passed him and swooped below him, catching him out of the air.

With her energy almost entirely depleted, the best Rainbow Dash could do was to ride her remaining inertia back upward. She passed by the cliff and over the dark forest just as the rainboom was beginning to fade and the night was yet again growing dark and cold. The Pegasus she held did not try to fight, and Rainbow Dash could not help but worry that she had badly addled him by exploding a Rainboom in his face. She had not seen the spike he had fired toward her, nor could she perceive his shame at having done so while she carried him to safety.

Absence met her on the ground. She had already sheathed her sword and she reached up, taking her brother from Rainbow Dash.

“Brother? Brother, how severe is it?”

The male Pegasus retracted his mask. “One broken wing. And internal damage. The suit is compensating.”

“We need to get you to mother- -”

“No.” He pulled away from her and stood. “My power-assist is still functioning. I can still fight.”

Absence looked up at Rainbow Dash. “You…you saved my brother.”

“Well, it kind of was my fault,” admitted Rainbow Dash. “And besides. I’m actually really heroic.”

A crossbow bolt suddenly whizzed toward Rainbow Dash’s head. Absence reacted instinctively, blocking it with the armor remaining on her left foreleg. Both of them turned suddenly to see an angry mob of short, stocky Pegasi and goats rushing through the streets with pitchforks and torches.

“WITCHES!” cried one of them. “Witches who make rainbows in the sky!”

“Rainbows! Evil rainbows!” agreed another.

“BAAAAHHHHHHH!” cried a goat.

“Rainbows are not evil!” shouted Rainbow Dash. “Sure, they don’t taste so good, but- -”

Another crossbow bolt whizzed by. This time, Rainbow Dash saw it coming and managed to roll out of the way. She nearly struck an extremely sweaty Sweetie Drops in the process.

“Bon Bon- -”

“Dash, if you refuse me this time I’m going to give you such a silver poke! Get Daring Do and get out of here! NOW!”

“But- -”

“White and I will cover you!”

“But- -”

“GO!”

Rainbow Dash nodded and accelerated. The armored Pegasus who had not been flying previously stood up, having managed to at least partially repair his hydraulics. With his armor stained with green fluid, he looked distinctly alien, especially as he bounded toward Rainbow Dash- -at least until Sweetie Drops leapt on his back.

Daring Do was not far. She was standing over Withers, who was largely immobile, desperately trying to reconnect the broken halves of his glasses. The remaining Pegasus was desperately trying to swing at Daring Do, even though her eyes were nearly swollen shut and she could barely see. Neither of those ponies were much of a threat, but the rapidly approaching mob certainly was.

“Darn it!” swore Rainbow Dash as she landed beside Daring Do.

“Rainbow!” cried Daring Do. “You have to get out of here!”

“Not without you!”

“LOOK!” cried one of the approaching Pegasi. “Rainbow mane on a rainbow mare! RAINBOW WITCH!”

“Are you freaking kidding me?!” shouted Rainbow Dash. She pulled back her mane. “LOOK! No horn! I’m a Pegasus! How can I be a witch without a horn?!”

The crowd stopped.

“She has a point!” screamed one of the ponies.

“BAAAHHHHH!” cried a goat.

“The goat is right!” replied another Pegasus loudly. “That IS exactly what a witch would say!”

They began advancing again. Daring Do raised her half of a whip, which although thoroughly useless was the only weapon she had. Rainbow Dash, however, had a sudden flash of inspiration.

She ducked down and rolled toward Withers, quickly shoving her hooves into the pockets of his jacket.

“Stop that,” he snapped. “It takes hours to organize those.”

“Sorry, I need to borrow this.” Rainbow Dash removed a large circular device from Withers’s coat.

Daring Do recognized what it was. “Holy- -how did you know he had that?!”

“Because he’s Withers! In every single book, he’s ALWAYS the guy who pulls out explosives!”

The crowd continued to advance, and Rainbow Dash lifted the object overhead. “Behold!” she cried. “The Great and Powerful RAINBOW DASH!”

She then threw the explosive on the ground, causing it to detonate into a plume of blinding white light and thick, acrid smoke. The crowd choked and gasped until the smoke cleared, only to find that the two Pegasi behind it had vanished.

Having confirmed that Rainbow Dash was, in fact, a rainbow-witch, the crowd dropped their weapons and ran away, terrified. Rainbow Dash and Daring Do would not have known this, of course, as they had already made their escape.

Or so they thought.
 

Chapter 35: The Dark Flock

As Daring Do and Rainbow Dash rushed through the empty streets of the frigid mountain village, they did not notice the many sets of eyes upon them. Likewise, two of those sets of eyes failed to notice the hundreds upon hundreds of other sickly, jaundiced eyes that watched both pairs of ponies.

Rogue stood on the sharply slopping roof of one of the ragged and thin mountain houses.

“There they are,” he said.

“I see them,” replied Caballeron. Space seemed to distort around him as he deactivated the invisibility spell that surrounded him. Doing so immediately aggravated his nausea, which was largely due to the fact that he was not familiar with invisibility spells and the effects they tended to have on pony physiology. That, and hiding under the thin Questlord cloak had required him to forgo his oxygen tank.

Rogue took off his own mask and passed it to Caballeron. Caballeron took several deep breaths, feeling part of his strength return.

“Bloody heck,” muttered Rogue. “It’s absolutely chilled out here.”

“I’ve noticed,” snapped Caballeron.

They both watched Daring Do and Rainbow Dash pass by.

“Boss, we have to hurry,” said Rogue. “Before the albinos get past the mob and those two freaks Daring Do left behind.”

“It’s not a problem. We will handle it swiftly and with ease.”

“How? I mean, that’s Daring Do, and we’ve only got the two of us- -”

Caballeron glared at him. “Before they turned on us, the Questlords left us some very interesting equipment. Apart from this cloak.” He produced a small but very full bag. “Including this…”

Daring Do rushed through the empty town. There had been few residents to start with, and almost all of them had joined the angry mob. No doubt Sweetie Drops had her hooves full, and Daring Do hoped to Celestia that the earth-pony would keep White safe.

Her own options were far more limited. She had to get Rainbow Dash to safety, but there was hardly anywhere left that was safe. The best option was to head for the peaks of Lyskymm; the ponies who lived on the mountain below feared them and would not approach. At night, though, the mountain would be covered in swarms of deadly creatures. The trip up would be an exceedingly short one.

Worse, something was wrong. Both her and Rainbow Dash could feel it. In Daring Do’s case, it was a profound taste of metal and a worsening migraine. For Rainbow Dash, it was the sudden and heavy vibration of the vedmak amulet that she wore.

Suddenly a pair of figures appeared above them, standing atop a building and sending a plume of agitated crows fleeing from their approach. For a moment they were silhouetted in the moonlight- -and then Daring Do felt a hail of small objects peppering her back and mane.

Rainbow Dash’s eyes focused first. “Caballeron!” she cried, spreading her wings

Daring Do looked up and saw that Rainbow Dash was correct. Caballeron was standing on top of the building, next to a single henchpony, the one named Rogue.

“Daring Do!” laughed Caballeron. “I see my associates, against my recommendation based on considerably experience, have underestimated you!” His green eyes flashed. “You will find that I will not make such an oversight.”

“Why don’t you come down here and say that?!” cried Rainbow Dash, already starting to lift off the ground.

“Because he doesn’t have to,” said Daring Do, gravely.

Rainbow Dash stopped ascending, confused by Daring Do’s response but instinctively realizing from her town how serious the situation was, even if she did not know why. Daring Do reached into her mane and removed one of the small objects that Caballeron had thrown down onto them. She held it up for Rainbow Dash to see: a long, pointed white object.

“A tooth?” asked Rainbow Dash, still clearly bewildered.

“No. Teeth. Dragon’s teeth.”

The ground beneath them began to rumble. Both turned, but only Rainbow Dash cried out. Daring Do did not. Although she could not fathom where Caballeron had managed to find actual dragon’s teeth, she knew exactly what to expect.

The teeth had already begun to germinate. Wherever they had landed, they sprung forth, driving roots out in every direction, grasping and grubbing for material that they greedily consumed. At first, only tendrils rose, dragging themselves from the ground- -but then they began to resolve into hooves, and finally into the gaunt, skeletal forms of ponies. Their bodies and armor were forged from ice and frozen earth, and their ribcages and empty eye-sockets were illuminated by the glow of magical dragon’s fire.

They rose up, dragging themselves free of the ground. Although thin and skeletal, they had come with weapons and armor, some of which appeared to be the rusted and ancient fragments of Pegasus spears and shirts that were lying long buried in the ancient earth.

“Zombies?” cried Rainbow Dash, her voice rising several octaves. “I- -I can’t deal with zombies! I already did once!” She then yelled at the soldiers. “Go away! I DON’T HAVE ANY COOKIES!”

“They’re not zombies,” said Daring Do, backing away and pulling the dragon’s teeth on her clothes off- -although being careful not to let them touch the ground below, at the risk of forming more soldiers. There was already a small army.

Daring Do raised her whip. Although she only had half of it, she still struck out at the nearest of the constructs. The whip connected, gashing deeply into its earthen armor. The skeletal form did not even slow. It did not feel pain.

“No, not zombies,” said Daring Do, backing away. “Not even close.”

All of the tooth-soldiers charged at once. Daring Do barely managed to dodge a rusty spear that passed right through where her chest had been moments before. Rainbow Dash, meanwhile, landed a solid kick to one of them, causing his body to sustain severe damage.

“HA!” cried Rainbow Dash. “They’re really weak!”

Before she had even finished saying it, the tooth in the center of the construct she had just shattered had already rebuilt its external body. The dragon-light within its chest still glowed strong, and it tilted forward again, this time bashing Rainbow Dash back with a heavy shield.

Above, Caballeron laughed. “Excellent! Absolutely excellent! I don’t know why I never thought of this before! Soldiers! Grab her and restrain her!”

An axe struck Daring Do in the side. It sliced part of her coat, but was largely stopped by the heavy leather of her whip. She was thrown backward, though, and tumbled through the dirt, dodging spear-points with every rotation.

“I said RESTRAIN!” shrieked Caballeron. “I need her ALIVE!”

“You IDIOT!” cried Daring Do. “It doesn’t work like that! They won’t take orders, it’s not how they’re made!”

Another spear came toward her, but Rainbow Dash shattered it before it reached Daring Do’s relatively soft body. Rainbow Dash had successfully shattered several of the soldires, which was impressive. Still, she was breathing hard, and the soldiers she had broken were already regenerating as their parts were pulled back around the central, glowing teeth at the center of their bodies.

“I can’t win against these guys!” cried Rainbow Dash. “It isn’t fair! They keep respawning!”

“I can see that!’ snapped Daring Do. “MOVE!” She shoved rainbow Dash out of the way just in time to avoid the descent of a heavy, rusted axe. Rainbow Dash rolled, as did Daring Do.

“Stop this!” cried Caballeron, yelling impotently at the crowd of magical constructs he had unwittingly unleashed. “STOP! I order you! I ORDER YOU!”

There was no response from the tooth-soldiers. To Caballeron’s horror, they formed up and accelerated their attack- -with lethal intentions.

“STOP!” he wailed. His voice was drowned out by the sound of stone hooves against frozen ground and the clattering of rusted armor.

“Daring!” cried Rainbow Dash.

“We can’t fight them! RUN!”

Daring Do turned and ran through an overgrown alley between two buildings. Rainbow Dash took flight, following after her. Behind them, several of the dragon’s tooth soldiers sprouted wings and pursued them while the remainder clattered across the ground, both directly behind them and around the building, trying to flank them.

“Now they can FLY?!” cried Rainbow Dash. “Gosh darn it this just keeps getting better!”

Daring Do was not sure if Rainbow Dash was being sarcastic, but hoped that she was. She took a sharp left, rolling out between two buildings and into a narrow path. Daring Do now found herself at the end of a long road between the looming houses. Beyond was the end of the village, and the road passed immediately into the pitch-black of the thick, gnarled trees of the dark cedar forests.

“Which way?” asked Rainbow Dash.

The soldiers answered for her. They came around the corner swiftly, rushing through the buildings, their empty eyes alight with enchanted fire and their weapons glinting in the moonlight.

“Forest it is!”

Daring Do turned, only to hear a sudden rustling. Lights illuminated within the forest, momentarily swaying and bobbing like will-o-the-wisps. Then more of the warriors emerged from the brush, surrounding both Daring Do and Rainbow Dash.

“Well, when you’re surrounded…” Rainbow Dash took flight. “The only way to go is up!”

“They can fly too! And THEY don’t get tired or run out of breath!”

“What? Come on! I can beat out any of them!”

“But I can’t!”

Rainbow Dash frowned. Daring Do expected an accusatory gaze, but the one she got was one of concern instead. Somehow, that was worse.

“Go!” she said. “I’ll hold them off for as long as I can!”

Rainbow Dash did not answer. At least not with words. Rather, she did so by action: she pulled her wings back to her body and dropped to the ground beside Daring Do.

“You idiot!”

“Well it’s better to fight with two idiots instead of one!” Rainbow Dash winced. “Oh my Celestia,” she muttered, “I just called Daring Do an idiot…”

Daring Do smiled, despite her anger. She appreciated the show of solidarity, even if it was reckless, foolish, and downright stupid. Unlike Rainbow Dash, she knew how dragon’s tooth soldiers worked, and knew that neither of them were likely to make it out in one piece.

Still, she smiled, backing against Rainbow Dash as the soldiers slowly advanced. “It isn’t really a fair fight, is it?”

Rainbow Dash’s eyes lit up. As cliché as it was, she already knew the correct answer to that question. “Yeah. Caballeron should have brought MORE!”

Rainbow Dash leapt forward, as did the ring of soldiers. Daring Do, though, realized that something else was happening- -beyond the soldiers.

The darkness of the cedar forest suddenly seemed to lift into the air and blot out the stars in the eastern sky. This plume was silent for a moment, but then rushed forward with the deafening roar of thousands upon thousands of wings- -and the cawing of an endless murder of crows.

Rainbow Dash’s amulet, already vibrating substantially from the presence of the dragon’s tooth warriors, suddenly seemed to be trying to tear itself free of the chain that held it. Rainbow Dash cried out in surprise, and Daring Do felt a thrumming inside her head. A constant, painful noise that sounded like hundreds of clocks ticking in a great cacophony.

The crows poured downward without hesitation. The magical soldiers did not seem to know how to react; in their primitive magical minds, they understood that they were under attack. They did not comprehend by what, or how.

The moon was blotted out completely as the crows began to circle in a great vortex, tearing away pieces of the dragon’s tooth warriors with each revolution. The soldiers attempted to regenerate, but the crows were relentless. Black talons and dark beaks tore away at stone and frost. Each could only take a tiny amount of material, but in their numbers that was more than enough.

The soldiers tried to react by driving their weapons into the swarm. Doing so provided no benefit, as the crows simply moved out of the way. Daring Do leapt to the side of a spear- -and hoof still attached to it- -that was knocked toward her and Rainbow Dash. She tackled Rainbow Dash to the ground- -not only to protect her from shrapnel, but from the crows as well. Yet, although Daring Do could feel the brush of wings against her face and body as they passed, she felt no pain.

The attack was relentless, and the warriors began to disintegrate. They attempted to regenerate, but were unable to. The crows continued to attack, and through her partially open eyes, Daring Do was able to see that the crows were beginning to attack the central flame of the constructs. At first it did little, but the motion of more and more crows began to cause the flames to flicker- -and then finally be snuffed out.

The dragons teeth were carried away by the swarm, drawn up and away from the ground. The process was not rapid, but within minutes the last of the soldiers had been reduced to peck-marked rubble. Even though they were not nor had they ever been ponies, the sight of their ruined, skeletal limbs and partially shattered heads with empty, staring eye sockets was an unpleasant sight.

Daring Do, though, was in one piece. She let Rainbow Dash up and saw that the girl was also uninjured.

“Oh wow,” said Rainbow Dash, looking around. “Remind me to never become a dragon dentist.”

“Look sharp,” said Daring Do, pointing. “This isn’t over.”

The crows had not departed. Rather, they had moved and changed their flight pattern. Now instead of forming a tight cyclone, they had instead collapsed into a rapidly undulating sphere. The sphere grew tighter and tighter, circling faster and faster, until a pair of crows broke free from the shrinking orbit. They collided in flight. It was too dark for Daring Do to see what exactly had happened, but they did not separate or fall, even at that speed. Instead, they seemed to have merged.

More broke free, flying in the same course and impacting where the others had just struck. The convergence grew. In seconds, two long chains of dark birds had issued from the sphere, merging into a single point.

In a matter of seconds the flock was gone. Something else had replaced them. Only its wings were visible against the moonlight, and Daring Do momentarily comprehended it as a single vast corvid.

Then it descended slowly and came into better view, and Daring Do realized that it was actually a pony: a winged black stallion. He came closer to them, and Daring Do watched as his large wings curled and seemed to dissolve into his body. At the same time, as his appearance became obvious, Daring Do found herself less than impressed.

The stallion was a unicorn, and he was distinctly ugly. His eyes were large, yellow, and sickly; they also seemed to stare out of either side of his head. The impression was distinctly birdlike. Like his eyes, his mane was also unpleasant; it was more gray than black, long, and reeked as though it had never been washed. In fact, the whole of his person smelled horrible, like birds, lack of bathing, metal, and rot. Despite this, he did not seem especially dirty; he even wore a somewhat faded looking waistcoat that was completely spotless.

The stallion glared at them, or at least in their direction. He was specifically staring at Daring Do.

“My job here is to make sure you do not end up as a slab of delicious meat,” he growled. His voice was oddly high, and Daring Do was distinctly aware of the fact that he had neither teeth nor gums. “You are not making this easy for me.”

“And who exactly are you?” demanded Daring Do.

“Don’t talk. You sound like an idiot.”

“EXCUSE ME?!”

“It’s not your fault I suppose. You were born racially inferior. Blame your progenitors for not evolving.”

“Wait a second,” said Rainbow Dash, her eyes narrowing. She stepped forward as if to defend Daring Do. “I know you! You’re the pony who snuck into our room!”

“Wait,” said Daring Do. “A pony snuck into our room- -and you didn’t tell me?!”

“I- -um- -I forgot!”

“Indeed,” said the black unicorn, “your counterpart is quite slow. Do Pegasi still use lead paint? Because if you do, you should probably stop.”

Rainbow Dash puffed up, preparing a retort. Daring Do interrupted, stepping between her and the mage to stop a fight.

“What do you want?”

“I already stated that. For you not to be meat. At least not yet, once I’m done you can be whatever you want.” His jaundiced eyes turned toward Rainbow Dash. “Your nubile associate can be meat now if she likes. She is not really relevant.”

“You’ve been watching me.”

“I’ve been watching a lot of things. It’s my job. One of those things is you. A tiny, pointless little unevolved thing. But a thing that can apparently read Exmoori higher-text.”

“I believe that would make me an important thing, wouldn’t it?”

“Ah. A witty feather-bearer. Aren’t I lucky.” He pushed past Daring Do, and she recoiled from both the stench and the odd pulsing in her brain that he seemed to give off.

“Where are you going?”

“This way,” he said, pointing with his horn. His watery right eye stared at Daring Do. “In case you weren’t aware, four Questlords and a group of less useful animals have beat back the mob and are converging.”

“Can’t you do that crow thing again?” asked Rainbow Dash.

“Yes. But it would be pointless. I can deal with magic. Not with power armor. And especially not with their leader. She is far better built than the rest.”

“We can take them!” exclaimed Rainbow Dash. “It won’t even be hard!”

The mage shrugged. “Then I suppose I’ll have your wings after they’re done with you. Barbecue will be appropriate, I think.”

Rainbow Dash began to puff again. Daring Do rolled her eyes. “Let me guess. You want us to come with you?”

“No. But I need you to. And you don’t actually have a choice.”

“Fine.”

Rainbow Dash gaped at Daring Do. “WHAT?!”

“On one condition.”

“You don’t get conditions. I already own you.”

“My friends. You can see them, can’t you?”

The black stallion groaned. “Sword-horse is alive. The feather-bearer with the low pain tolerance is also alive, but was beaten somewhat by the mob. But they are not in a position to save you. I am, I suppose.”

“You suppose?”

“Yes. Often. For example: I suppose we should get to the caves before they find you.”

“No way. The caves are full of monsters.”

“Not my problem.”

Chapter 36: A Path is Laid

Caballeron dropped to the ground and ran forward with a roar. He barely even noticed that he did not have an oxygen mask, nor did he care. Instead of oxygen, he was propelled forward by pure rage.

They had used him. He had been betrayed and distrusted. All these things were things he would have done himself without hesitation, but it was entirely unreasonable and inconceivable that others would do it to him. The teeth not obeyed him. They had not meant to. And now they were pursuing her, attempting to take the right of ending Daring Do away from him.

Something in the distance blotted out the night’s sky. An icy feeling seemed to trickle down his spine as he heard the distant sound of crows descending. Something was wrong, and his instinct told him that it was something unnatural and unclean. The thoughts of the raven-mage that he had seen before came to mind, and he screamed in rage. Daring Do had found herself yet another ally- -and, most likely, one who would not use or betray her.

Dark shadows passed over the ground. Caballeron looked up to see a pair of white Pegasi passing overhead. A third was moving quickly on foot, visible only through the tiny slats in a decrepit fence as he effortlessly climbed one of the town’s many steep stone staircases.

Caballeron ran after them. Rogue was beside him, and suddenly so was Withers.

“Withers!” cried Caballeron. “How many?”

“Two.”

“DO IT!”

With a flick of his wrist, Withers removed a detonator from his collar. He pressed it.

Two explosions rang out in the night. One of the two Pegasi overhead erupted with a plume of blue-white magical discharge and tilted off course, landing awkwardly as his power armor failed. The one that was running also suddenly crumpled.

Caballeron laughed, even though he only knew that Withers had bought him time. Both Pegasi’s armor had been rendered inoperable, but there was nothing to stop them from ejecting- -at least nothing that Caballeron knew of. Similarly, only two had been incapacitated. Fortunately, the third had behaved just as Caballeron had predicted: she descended with her brother, helping him stabilize on his way down. She would no doubt stay a few seconds at least to make sure he was safe- -and to determine that the interference disruptor charge that had taken down his armor was one of those that she had supplied to Caballeron.

Reflecting on this, Caballeron found for once that he was glad that ponies- -even knights- -were such idiots.

Chapter 37: Pursuit

They moved swiftly, but in an unfortunate direction. Daring Do’s instinct was to move deeper into the forest where there was greater cover. She of course knew that doing so was incredibly foolish, especially if there were more Questlords already waiting with eyes like White’s. Her own night vision was good, but not nearly good enough to see silent Pegasi approaching from overhead. This fear was almost tangible as she moved through the forest, but the instinct to hide was still strong.

Rainbow Dash did not seem to share that instinct. Instead, she seemed more annoyed at the fact that she was not permitted to fight the Questlords head-on. Her demeanor was that of one who was greatly ashamed of herself.

As for the black stallion, he seemed to care little. Daring Do found that suspect and was growing increasingly nervous. He was leading them away from town- -and away from Sweetie Drops and White. Worse, he was taking them in the opposite direction of what instinct dictated: instead of deeper into the forest, he was leading them up the mountain to where the trees grew shorter and more sparse.

Then at once they broke free of any and all cover. The trees faded away until they were little more than spiny, ankle-high plants, and the landscape was instead dominated by short grasses, moss, and jagged rocks.

“The fissure should be nearby,” said the black stallion.

“Fissure?” Daring Do looked around. “Where?”

A high shout of surprise came from behind her, and she turned to see that Rainbow Dash had vanished down a narrow crack in the ground.

“Right there,” said the stallion. He leaned over and fell into the hole as well. Daring Do, with slight hesitation, also entered, although by flying rather than accidentally falling in.

It was a narrow hole, but surprisingly deep. It opened into a large cavern with a low ceiling. Rainbow Dash was picking herself up off the ground and rubbing her head.

“Dash, are you hurt?”

“Who the heck puts a hole just out in the middle of a field!” she exclaimed.

“No one ‘put it there’,” retorted the stallion. “It grew there naturally.”

“Well somepony should have put up a sign!”

“The elderly brown mare had no trouble with it.”

This seemed to anger Rainbow Dash even more greatly than the hole did. “She’s NOT ELDERLY!”

“Dash, please,” said Daring Do. She glared at the stallion. “Do you have to be antagonistic?”

The stallion did not answer. He instead turned toward the darkness of the cave and raised a hoof. An circular projection appeared in front of it, containing three runes. Light then emanated from the circle as it collapsed into a sphere and moved ahead of them.

“This way.”

He began walking. His motions were stiff and odd, as if he was unfamiliar with how to actually move. It made sense why he did not want to fight; Daring Do doubted he would be graceful enough to even gallop, let alone hold his own in hoof-to-hoof combat.

Daring Do followed him, although she left a considerable distance, both because of the unpleasant smell and the fact that she still did not trust him. Rainbow Dash followed her; it was apparent that her trust in Daring Do only slightly outweighed her distrust in the unicorn.

“Do you have a name?” she asked.

“Flock,” he said.

“You’ve only got one?” sneered Rainbow Dash. “That’s kind of pretentious.” She leaned close to Daring Do and whispered. “Don’t tell Rarity I said that. Or Fluttershy. Or Scootaloo. Or my boss…”

“Corvius Flock,” said Flock. “Sorcerer.”

“A biomancer,” noted Daring Do.

“I have many interests,” snapped Flock in return.

“And is one of them the Hand of Doom?”

Flock’s eyes flashed. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You’re lying.”

“No. I’m allowing you to stay conscious. I don’t have to. But I am.” He pointed. “There’s an exit on the far side of the mountain through this one.” He took a corner. “If we can just get through- -”

“Hey, you!” called a voice. Daring Do looked up to see a pair of armored ponies standing at the entrance of a carved arcade. “What are you doing here?!”

“Great,” muttered Flock. “Now they’re in the tunnels too?”

The pair charged forward and Flock stepped backward, fully expecting Daring Do and Rainbow Dash to deal with it. Both were prepared to fight, but neither did. A strange sound came from behind the pair of ponies, like liquid being shot through a tight nozzle. Both of the armored ponies then stumbled and fell, their armor having been completely gummed by long threads of thick silk.

“What is this stuff?” demanded the male of the pair.

“Proof that I was right,” said the female.

“Don’t bother resisting,” said a third voice, one that was distinctly familiar. An earth-stallion stepped into view behind the immobilized Pegasi. “It is quite a bit stronger than steel. And makes excellent sweaters.”

“Caballeron!” cried Rainbow Dash.

“No,” said Daring Do. “That’s not him.”

The pony standing before them smiled. He really did look exactly like Caballeron, to the point where the illusion could more or less be described as perfect. Still, Daring Do somehow knew that he was not, and her suspicions were confirmed when his smile revealed long, pointed fangs.

“Of course, of course,” he said, stepping past the two Questlords. “You would know him better than I would, wouldn’t you? How to tell him and myself apart?” His eyes changed; the blue-green of his irises expanded until the entirety of both his eyes was one flat, murky color.

Then in an instant she shifted. The form of Caballeron vanished and was replaced by that of harsh-featured griffon. She flashed again, and took the form of a black unicorn. Then she flashed a final time, and resolved into a partial copy of Rainbow Dash, one that was taller with longer, fluffier wings, a long, excellent mane, and extensive makeup. Her eyes and fangs remained.

“Hmm,” she said. “Well. This form is uncomfortable.” She poked at her mane. “But I do like the mane.” She stared at Rainbow Dash and smiled viciously. “And I think the Doktor Caballeron will like playing with your wings, no?”

“NO HE WON’T!” cried Rainbow Dash, blushing profusely. “Gimme those back!”

“Rainbow Dash,” hissed Daring Do. “Please be quiet.”

Rainbow Dash was still fuming, but did as she was told. She backed away as Daring Do stepped forward to meet the changeling, but they did not fight. It had not yet come to that.

“They are invertebrates,” noted Flock. “Should I just pulp her?”

“Really? I’m the spineless one while you stand behind two mares for defense?”

“Ignore him,” said Daring Do. “But he is right. You’re outnumbered. Three to one. And you know who I am. And those two?” She pointed at the two Questlords who, though quiet, were still relentlessly struggling against their silken bindings, “when they manage to get up, they aren’t going to be too happy with you.”

“A calculated risk.”

“If you fight us, you’re going to get hurt.”

“Yeah!” agreed Rainbow Dash. “Bruised real hard!”

“Doubtful,” said the changeling. Her smile grew. “In fact, I can’t NOT fight you. You see, they left me behind. Because Caballeron wanted you. And no I have you. And when I give you to him, wrapped nicely in my soft, unbreakable silk, he will love me.”

“Doubtful. The only thing Caballeron loves is money.”

The changeling’s eyes flashed. “We both know that’s not true.”

“What?”

The changeling took a step forward, but Daring Do did not retreat. In a moment, their faces were inches apart. The changeling reeked of pheromones. They smelled like bad perfume.

“I hate you,” she whispered. “I hate you so much. Do you know why?”

“Because Caballeron hates me. So you do to.”

The changeling bared her teeth, but then laughed. There was no humor in her laughter. “No. No not at all. Quite the opposite. It’s because all I want in this world is to taste his sweet, tangy love. To have it given to me for who I am. Even if I’m a bug. And yet I can barely get a single squirt…” Her form changed again. This time Daring Do found herself staring into the eyes of an exact copy of herself. “…unless I look like this.”

Daring Do blushed as hard as Rainbow Dash had minutes prior. “He…he makes you change into ME?”

The changeling nodded. “You’ve taken the one thing I want. So now I’ll- -”

“You’ll what? Wrap me up and take me to Caballeron? And what exactly will that accomplish?”

“He’ll love me. He has to…”

“But if you’re not completely lying, then who he REALLY wants is me, right? If you give him me, then he has no use for you.”

The changeling gasped, and her eyes narrowed. “No- -no! I’m useful! I’m his top lieutenant! I’m smarter and stronger than any of his other dumkoffs!”

“But that’s not what you want to be, is it?”

The changeling roared and shifted again. This time her mass grew substantially, and she appeared as an enormous spider, just as she had in the Singapone vault.

“FINE!” she screamed, her fangs dripping with saliva and her numerous eyes flashing in the torchlight of the underground tunnel, “then I’ll just drain your JUICES!”

Rainbow Dash stepped back. “Daring, I don’t mean to doubt you, but, um…I think you messed up this speech-check.”

“I didn’t,” said Daring Do, calmly. She looked up at the changeling. “Fine,” she said. She sat down and spread her front hooves. “If you want my fluids, come take them.”

“Daring! NO!”

“Quiet, Dash, they’re my fluids to give!” Daring Do glared at the changeling. “So? Do it. I know you want it. To penetrate my soft, tender Pegasus skin with your long, hard fangs. To squeeze me dry of all my wetness. That’s what you want, isn’t it? That will make you feel better?”

The spider lumbered forward. “I’ll do it!” she said. “Don’t think I won’t!”

“Oh, I think you will. Trust me. I’m old. I lived a good life. Just do it.”

Rainbow Dash glared up at the spider. “If you’re going to suck her, you’re going to have to suck me too!”

“Stop this!” demanded the spider. “You’re both being idiots! Do you have any idea how much it would hurt?!”

“Nope,” said Daring Do. “How about you show us?”

The spider lurched forward, raising her fangs toward them and snapping them wildly. Neither Daring Do nor Rainbow Dash flinched as the dripping points came within inches of their faces.

“STOP!” cried the spider. “You’re supposed to run!”

“Why? You’re not going to hurt us. Admit it. Because you’re not actually a spider. You’re a changeling. You wouldn’t be able to live with yourself.” Daring Do pointed at her chest. “You broke my ribs with that spear. Back in Singapone. It hurts to move. And let me guess. You still have nightmares about what you almost did.”

“You don’t know that!”

“No. But I know that Caballeron is VERY careful about who he hires. I also know that holding that form takes a tremendous amount of magic. Without Caballeron around, it’s not me who’s running out of juices.”

The spider took a step back. She screamed. The sound of a spider screaming was horribly unpleasant, and it raised the hair on the neck of every pony present. Flock, meanwhile, thought it sounded hilariously pitiful.

“I still have enough…enough to stop you…”

“Probably. But I know one thing that you don’t.”

“Really?” The spider leaned forward, her obese striped abdomen dragging on the stone floor. Her eyes glared at Daring Do. “What?”

“That both of those two sent out distress signals the instant you silked them.”

The spider suddenly looked panicked. Hoofsteps could suddenly be heard echoing through the tunnels, which only drove her to rage. She leapt forward. This time, Daring Do knew that the attack was real.

Flock raised his hoof. A circle of light appeared, and he drove his hoof counterclockwise through several of the rooms. Daring Do closed her eyes only to find herself struck in the face by a green-eyed squirrel.

“Are we done here?” sighed Flock. “This is boring. Just step on her and be done with it.”

Daring Do looked down at the exceedingly surprised squirrel and then up at Flock. “You- -you morphed her!”

“Biomancy.” He pushed past her. “Believe me, it’s much easier to morph a changeling than it is to condense several hundred crows into one pony body.” He raised his hoof over the squirrel, preparing to bring it down. Daring Do shoved him away. Touching him was exceedingly unpleasant; it made the thrumming in her head grow even louder, and his body felt as though he had no muscles whatsoever.

His body gave way easily, and Daring Do saw one large yellow eye staring at her with absolute hatred. The changeling, meanwhile, managed to undo her shift, turning back into a default black changeling. She then ran toward the oncoming hoofsteps.

“We have to go!” cried Rainbow Dash.

Daring Do agreed. She leapt over the two silk-covered Questlords and into the arcade corridor. As she did, she extended her whip and wrapped it around one of the more fragile pillars.

“Dash! Help me!”

Rainbow Dash grabbed the whip and pulled. Together, they were able to shift the column. As it fell, the whole room shook and most of the ceiling came down with it. Just as the leader of the Questlords rounded the last corner and was visible on the other side, the debris fell and blocked off her path.

Part of the collapse crushed Flock. His body burst into crows and quickly reassembled itself further down the hallway. “A terrible idea,” he said. “Now I don’t know what path we’re on.”

“It’s still better than being captured,” retorted Daring Do. “Come on. We’ll find a way.”

They turned to leave, and although Daring Do and Flock quickly moved down the corridor, Rainbow Dash stopped when she heard a voice behind the rubble.

“Rainbow Dash!”

Rainbow Dash turned. “Absence?”

Absence’s face was visible through part of the wall. Rainbow Dash approached her, stomping over crushed stone and dust.

“Please!” said the white Pegasus. “Rainbow Dash. You have to listen to me.”

“Listen to YOU?! You’re working with Caballeron! AND you tried to off my idol! You’re a bad pony!”

“I’m not actually much of a pony to begin with, but that doesn’t matter. Please. You have to understand.”

“Understand what? Oh, no, wait. ‘I was just following orders’. That’s not an excuse and you know it! Absence, I thought you were my friend!”

“That isn’t my excuse. That mage, the raven-wizard, he is profoundly evil. That was why I had to act, because Daring Do is working for him.”

“But we just met him, how could- -”

“There are forces at work that you can’t know. It would be too dangerous. But you already know so much. If that creature gets his hooves on the Hand of Doom, Equestria will be plunged into darkness and enslavement. You have no idea who he even is, what he’s done!”

Rainbow Dash paused, and then stamped toward the rubble. “And if you had a problem with this, you should have just talked to me!” she hissed. “Because what you’re doing? That’s not how friends act!”

Rainbow Dash departed from the wall. Absence called after her. “Wait! Rainbow Dash! Please listen!”

It was too late. She had left- -just as Caballeron and his henchponies arrived.

Absence turned toward them, giving them such a withering glare that even Caballeron was forced to take a step back.

“I hope you realize that actions have consequences,” she said, slowly.

Caballeron gulped. “Not to worry. I’ve already mapped out the caves. There are only two paths out of that area, and one leads to a dead end- -if we circle around , we can block them off.”

“I should hope so,” snapped Absence, pushing past Caballeron. “Because if you are wrong, we will both be in very deep trouble.”

Chapter 38: The Fourth Phase

Caballeron turned out to be correct. Daring Do had inadvertently trapped herself into an inescapable path. There was only one fork in it, and the choice was inconsequential: the path she did not take led upward past where Caballeron’s temporary office had been set and eventually to the path that Caballeron and Absence had rapidly encircled. The path she did take led nowhere.

Daring Do did not realize her failure until it was too late. The path narrowed and suddenly stopped, blocked by a thick and ancient pile of rubble through with a small stream dribbled through. On a good day, it might have been calming to see such a charming little cave-stream. On this day, though, the appearance of a blocked passage nearly conjured inescapable panic.

“No, NO!” she cried. “There has to be another way!”

“I don’t think we have time to find it!” shouted Rainbow Dash. She gestured behind her. Although they were soft, the sound of hoofsteps and voices was audible echoing through the ancient hallways.

“We have to push it!” exclaimed Rainbow Dash, putting her hooves on a rock five times her size and struggling against it with all her might.

“That’s not going to work! We can’t unstick it!”

Flock, who otherwise looked disinterested, suddenly seemed engrossed by his surroundings. “I know this place,” he said, quietly. “I know where I am…”

A voice sounded from down the hallway. Even echoing heavily, Daring Do recognized it as that of the henchpony Rogue. “Boss! They’re this way! They took the dead end! There’s no way out!”

“Celestia’s hairy ears,” swore Daring Do under her breath. She turned toward the only exit. “Looks like we’ll have to fight them.”

“All of them?” asked Rainbow Dash. Daring Do could not tell if the younger mare was frightened or excited.

“No. Half. You take the right. I’ll take the left.”

Flock sighed and stepped between them. “Firstly,” he said, reaching into one of his waistcoat pockets, “don’t pray to your ridiculous false-god in my presence. Your superstition makes you look even more stupid. Second, I don’t see a problem here.”

“Because you can’t render proper eyes!” snapped Daring Do. She pointed at the rocks. “It’s a dead end! So either get behind us and hide or, even better, get ready to fight!”

“I don’t fight,” said Flock. “That’s a job for disposable ponies. And we’re not trapped. That’s just your primitive brains insisting this world can only be rendered through finite dimensionality.”

He withdrew the object he was searching for. He opened it, and for a moment Daring Do thought that it was a large pocket watch. On closer inspection, though, she could see that it was most certainly not a clock of any kind. It contained a great many incredibly detailed and incredibly complex gears, all assembled from a peculiar white metal the likes of which Daring Do had never seen before. In its center sat a perfectly set crystal of pure white moonstone.

The device shifted, opening and twisting as it exposed the gem inside and as the numerous gears set themselves to the proper positions. Flock stared at the process hungrily.

“I had wanted to avoid this,” he said. “As I don’t know what effect it will have on your biology. My guess is that it may hurt. Perhaps tremendously.”

The raised crystal suddenly dropped into the center of the gears, and the mechanisms snapped and whirred about in an instant.

The sensation was something like falling, as if the floor had been pulled out- -or, rather, as if the whole of the world had suddenly been turned upside-down. Daring Do cried out, or would have if the process would have allowed for it. A tremendous wave of nausea and pain swept over her, like an amplified version of the pain she experienced when using teleportation or portals. Before she could even scream, the sound was stopped in her throat by rising fluid. She bent forward and spilled her oats.

Except no oats came out. Just a thick, black-red fluid that tasted severely unpleasant- -along with several long, thin silver items that resembled segmented metal cables. Cables that quickly began wriggling and jumping under their own volition.

Daring Do recoiled, feeling one of the ones that had not left her crawling back down her throat. The world seemed to swim, and she suddenly felt hooves on her shoulder. Terrified, Daring Do cried out and nearly tackled whoever was touching her- -only to stop herself just in time when she realized that it was just Rainbow Dash.

“Daring? Daring, are you okay?”

“Yeah,” sighed Daring Do, wiping her mouth. “I’m fine, I’m…” Her eyes suddenly widened when she saw Rainbow Dash. “DASH! What happened to you?!”

Rainbow Dash looked down at herself. Her mane and tail had been completely shorn away, and one of her temples was marked with a tattoo in a strange, vicious language that Daring Do could not read. Much of her body was covered in new and old scars. In some places, metal glinted just below her sallow skin.

“Yeah,” said Rainbow Dash. “You don’t look much better.”

Daring Do reached for her head and realized that her mane had been shaved away as well. She was also somehow sure that she had a very similar code tattooed on her head as well.

She stood up furious and turned to Flock. “What in the name of CADENCE’S BEARD did you do to us?!”

Flock turned to her. He looked different as well, but not in the same way. His whole body seemed to have grown darker, to the point where he resembled just a shadow with eyes. “Nothing,” he said, calmly. “This is just what you look like in this phase. They seem to have taken a particular liking to the rainbow-pony. You, though, seem to be of little concern.”

“And what about you?”

“I don’t exist in this phase unless I choose to.”

“Phase?”

Flock gestured around them. Daring Do turned to look and gasped. They were still in the cave hallway- -or almost were. Instead of a cave, though, or even an ancient arcade carved millennia before by Pegasi, they were in a strange and perfectly formed underground tunnel. The walls were smooth and formed form an unidentifiable material that was neither stone nor metal. The walls were lit by strange geometric growths that shed pale white light, and the hallway continued in both directions.

“Where…where are we?”

“Such moronic questions. We’re exactly where we were. We haven’t moved.”

“But we weren’t here!” protested Rainbow Dash. “We were in a cave! And now…” she shivered. “I…why do I feel so cold?”

“Anemia. And we haven’t moved. We’ve changed phase. It’s not complicated.”

“But then…”

“Look.” Flock walked forward and pointed at the space just before them. “See? They’re right there.”

Daring Do looked where he was pointing. At first, there was nothing- -but then she saw the world distort slightly. Dull spectral figures were visible moving through the suddenly dark hallway. She saw Caballeron, as well as a white Pegasus and a zebra.

“W- -WHAT?!” screamed Caballeron. His voice sounded distant, as though it were being spoken through a great deal of earth or across a great, windy distance. “But- -but it’s a dead end! They couldn’t have gotten out- -NO!” He ran to the edge, and Daring Do saw the ancient pile of rubble. Caballeron clawed at it. “NO! NO NO NO! They can’t have gotten away! We were so close!”

“Can…can he see us?” asked Rainbow Dash.

“No,” said Flock. He stuck his hoof directly through the zebra’s head. It phased through harmlessly, although the specter shivered slightly. “As I said multiple times. We’re out of phase. Still in your world…somewhat…but not quite. I shifted us.”

“And why didn’t you do that BEFORE?!”

Flock paused. “Look around you,” he said, pointing. “What do you see?”

“Walls. Ceilings. Little red dots,” said Rainbow Dash.

“The dots are in your eyes, those aren’t real.”

“Walls,” said Daring Do, quietly. She turned to Flock. “Walls that somepony built.”

Flock smiled slightly. “Yes,” he said. “How clever of you. Yes. Somepony built them. But not me. We escaped them…” he pointed to the fading specters, one of whom was now screaming pony obscenities. “But this is by no means a safe place. In fact, it is far, far worse.”

Daring Do did not need to wait for an answer. They appeared, is if out of some unseen mist- -except that they had always been there. When they saw Daring Do watching, they looked up from their work. Their eyes were wide and their faces incredibly gaunt. Although seeing them directly was almost impossible, Daring Do interpreted them as immensely tall and deathly thin alicorns.

“What are they?” she whispered.

“Dagon worshippers,” said Flock, not reducing his volume. “Beyond that, I don’t know. Look.”

He pointed at where the alicorns had converged. There, Daring Do was able to see the distant, ghostly images of the ponies she had just escaped from. The specters, though, were more solid- -and different. Daring Do gasped and had to look away when she realized what the alicorns were doing to them.

“We should move,” said Flock. More of the alicorns were staring to stare, and several began to move forward toward them. They neither walked nor flied, but rather seemed to drift. “They don’t normally notice me, but they seem to be reacting to you.”

“Agreed,” said Daring Do, preventing her voice from shaking only with great effort. “Come on, Dash.”

“Right,” said Rainbow Dash, clearly trying to sound brave but coming across as sounding quite relieved.

They began walking down the long and dark hall. It was wide, and occasionally Daring Do would see eyes or shadows passing down it. The alicorns were always present- -and a few had elected to follow them- -but not always to the same extent.

“They’re not in phase either,” reasoned Daring Do.

“No,” confirmed Flock. “If they ever are, that is very, very bad.”

“Then this isn’t their world.”

“No. It’s not anypony’s world. Or a world at all. It’s a phase. Between two worlds. Ours, and theirs. The Realm of Dagon.”

“And what exactly is there?”

Flock shook his head. “I don’t know. I cannot reach it. By definition. The curse that keeps me alive prevents me from opening ways to other realms. This is as far as I was ever able to reach.”

“Which is probably a good thing,” said Rainbow Dash, sounding oddly winded as she spoke. “I mean, after what happened in ‘Daring Do and the Sea-Foam Flower’? I mean, those guys were Dagon worshipers, right?”

Daring Do shivered, recalling glaring, unblinking mutant faces. “Yeah. That wasn’t good.”

“Your language is not precise,” muttered Flock. “Your definition of ‘worship’ is too broad.”

Daring Do did not understand what Flock meant like that, and did not ask. Rainbow Dash seemed to have a more pressing question.

“Are they…you know…dangerous? Because I’ll fight one. If I have to. Or I would. But I think something’s wrong with the air here. I feel really bad.”

“I feel fine,” said Daring Do. “Actually…” She paused and lifted one of her hooves, and stretched out a wing. She gasped when she realized that she had not even noticed that her arthritis was gone. Every pain from every injury she had sustained in her life had seemed to vanish entirely. There were other pains, but they were mild. “In fact, I feel thirty years younger.”

Flock raised one of his hooves, projecting a pale yellow circle in front of it. Several complex runes trailed by, spinning and repositioning as he held the translucent disk near Rainbow Dash.

“Well, that explains why,” he said, closing the spell. “They’ve already taken one of your lungs and deactivated a ventricle. I’m somewhat surprised you can still stand. I’d avoid strenuous effort here. Also, I believe that answers your question.”

“W- -what?”

Flock turned to Daring Do. “I had wanted to avoid this. Stay close, but know that if they choose to act, there is nothing I can do to stop them. And if I have to, I will leave you behind and find the Hand of Doom myself.”

Daring Do nodded. She understood the danger of the situation, even if it came in a strange way. After all, the source of it was visible and surrounding them and staring back with eyes that may or may not have been linked to sentient minds. If she listened, Daring Do could hear them whispering in a strange language that no living being should be able to speak.

More importantly, though, Flock had let slip a piece of information- -perhaps intentionally, and perhaps not. He too, it seemed, was on the trail of the Hand of Doom. And he needed Daring Do to find it.

Chapter 39: The Knight of the Bell

Caballeron was shoved into a chair. He resisted somewhat, although not enough to actually escape; it was more of a formality to demonstrate the fact that he deserved to be handled with much greater care, especially by the likes of a nameless albino.

There were more than one albino, though. They had regrouped, and none of them looked happy. Two of them were wearing badly damaged armor. One of those two had a wing that hung uselessly at his side. A gelding and a mare, likewise, had been forced to vacate their armor and instead wore the thick internal interface clothing that was meant to be worn beneath it. Neither of them appeared happy, but their displeasure was not as great as that of the one who led them, the only one to make it out of the botched case fully unscathed.

Caballeron’s own group was not doing much better. Argiopé had expended all of her energy fighting Daring Do, and lay curled up on the floor. The best she seemed able to do was to restore a slight mottling remnant of her weaver-stripes, although for the most part she looked like an ordinary black changeling. Rogue sat beside her, occasionally speaking with her when she needed comforting. He, though clearly angry, had escaped without a beating- -something he very seldom managed to do when Daring Do was involved.

Zel had also been recovered, and spent much of the time sulking and pacing in the rear of the large stone room. He had quite obviously lost again, and Caballeron wondered why he had bothered paying for the “best” mercenaries in Singapone in the first place. The only remaining member of Zel’s band was the minotaur, who was sitting in a pile of baby goats and holding ice to her head.

Withers had also gotten out of the fight unscathed, except for the loss of his glasses. His friend, though, had not. The fur near her face had been bleached and etched away, and she wore a bandage over her eyes.

“Are you doing okay?” asked Withers.

“What does it look like?” snapped the mare, wincing at the pain. “Oww…”

Withers shifted. “Sorry this happened.”

The mare punched him in the foreleg, or at least tried to. Being unable to see, she missed. “Stop apologizing, steed. You didn’t have anything to do with it.” She raised her voice. “But I better have medical coverage for fixing my eyes!”

Zel was about to scream at her when the leader of the Pegasi interrupted.

“Doctor Caballeron,” she said. “Do you have any idea what you have done?”

Caballeron frowned deeply. “Or do you mean what YOU have done? I’m an expert in capturing Daring Do, I could have helped- -”

“You sabotaged two of my brothers. An additional brother and sister if you count your changeling’s interference. You actively impeded me from acquiring my target.”

Caballeron stood up suddenly. “Acquiring? Interesting, interesting,” he said, barely hiding his fury. “Because Withers, you see, told me that ‘acquiring’ was never your goal. What did you say her mission was, Withers?”

Withers looked up at them. “Termination.”

“Ah,” said Caballeron, laughing hollowly. “So I was right!” He suddenly glowered at the albino mare. “First you overstep your authority. THEN you lie to me. And then you try to insult me in front of my rival through an astounding lack of professionalism!” He was so enraged, he was spitting on the mare’s face. She did not react. “And you think you can justify this?”

“No,” she said. “I don’t think I have to. Because you miscalculated.”

“Really? How so?”

“Yes.” She leaned forward. “You have greatly overstated the amount of leverage you have, earth-pony.”

As she spoke, the circular room was suddenly filled with a deafening roar. Caballeron covered his eyes against the force of the sound and the flash of light that accompanied it, but his eyes quickly adjusted as he saw a large orange portal had formed several meters from him.

“What is this?” he demanded.

“As I told you,” said the leader-mare as she approached the portal. “Actions have consequences.”

A figure stepped through the portal. As it emerged and materialized, Caballeron saw that it was a pony, and one dressed in armor. The armor, though, was substantially different from the style that the Pegasi wore. While the Pegasi wore silver, this suit of armor was dull gold in color; likewise, the complexity of its design was substantially greater. Caballeron noted that the plates of armor were carved with runes and symbols that, by their shape and position, were meant for far more practical purposes than a decorative motif. The armor was far more advanced and, though more thin than what many of the Pegasi wore, gave the impression that its wearer was far more massive than he or she was.

The armor contained an insignia on one shoulder: that of a red thistle on a white background, as well as a smaller coat of arms focusing around a bell.

The golden-armored pony was not alone. One of the Pegasi came through as well, dressed in heavy silver armor but helmless. His eyes were both red, but one of them was slightly different in color, betraying the fact that it was mechanical. Caballeron recognized him; he was the stallion that had come with the mare on the first night he had been introduced to their organization.

After the ponies stepped out, they were followed by two gaunt shapes. Caballeron winced, recognizing them as well. They were active versions of the robot that he had sent to deal with Daring Do: thin, faceless mechanical things.

The gold-armored pony stopped in front of Caballeron. Then the helmet of the armor began to unfold and retract, revealing the fact that the wearer was a mare- -and a unicorn. Her coat was a pale teal color, and her eyes were deep orange- -or at least the right one was. The left was milky and clouded and marred by a jagged scar that continued up her face.

The mare shook out her mane, which nearly fell to the floor. It was white with a long, black shock running through it.

“Mother,” said the lead Pegasus, sounding as surprised as her brothers and sisters appeared. She bowed deeply, as did the others, and then they lifted their heads and saluted. “I was not expecting you in person. Please, this matter is not so important that it requires you to take time from your busy- -”

The unicorn mare raised gold-clad hoof, instantly silencing the red-eyed mare. The Pegasus bowed again.

“The Grandmaster himself requested my presence on this mission,” she said, her expression not changing. “And you have no right to comment on how I use my time, daughter.”

“Of course, mother.”

“You may also be underestimating the importance of this mission. Just as I’m afraid I overestimated your capacity to accomplish it.”

“We were sabotaged,” said the gelding across the room. “If we had- -”

The mare turned her one good eye toward him and he immediately stiffened, to the point where his wings shot out at attention. “Son, that sounded like an excuse to me.”

“No, mother, no! I was attempting an explanation.”

“And did I ask for explanations? Rhetorical. No, I didn’t. Because I want RESULTS instead.” She took a silent step forward. Even though her armor was quite clearly loaded with exceedingly costly robotics, it made no sound. “I’ve already been briefed on the situation.” Her eye turned toward Caballeron. “And I know who you are.”

“Doctor Pontrancio Caballeron.” Caballeron bowed. “At your service and pleased infinitely to make your acquaintance.”

“Really?” she replied. “Because I’m not. You reek of poor breeding, earth-horse.”

Caballeron’s temper flared. “I will have you know that I am the most recent in a long line of nobility- -”

“And I don’t care. I’ve been informed that you’ve been actively undermining our operation.” Caballeron sputtered. “Well, I would not use such a phrase- -”

“Are you aware that the offer to pay you was legitimate?’

Caballeron blinked, not understanding. “As opposed to?”

“As opposed to the amount of money you will be receiving now. The Grandmaster insisted on honoring his pledge. He is far more…noble, I suppose, than I am. I, however, rescind the offer. Completely and totally, effective immediately.”

Caballeron turned several shades of red. “You- -you CAN’T! We had a contract!”

“Consider it broken. By your own hoof.”

“Well- -then- -I won’t work! Not for FREE!”

The mare leaned forward. Caballeron shuddered when he saw the empty hatred in her one eye, and knew that he was staring into the eye of a unicorn who was almost impossibly old. “You don’t understand your position,” she said, slowly. “Perhaps a demonstration. You, changeling.” She gestured at Argiopé with her horn.

“Yes?” said Argiopé, weakly.

“Am I correct that changelings can regenerate lost limbs?”

Argiopé seemed confused. “Well, yes. During molts, when it happens- -” Her eyes widened suddenly as she realized what the unicorn mare was implying.

“Hold her.”

The two Pegasi in power armor closed in on her. Argiopé screamed and struggled, but they held her tight. She tried to shift her form to something more vicious, but she had used up all her energy fighting Daring Do. There was nothing she could do but writhe and squirm to no avail.

“NO!” cried Caballeron. He leapt toward the pair, trying to push them away. They did not budge, and instead threw him back with robotically assisted force. “You can’t!” He pivoted toward the unicorn. “How dare you! You can’t!”

“Of course I can. I only need to decide on a number.”

“NO!” screamed Argiopé. “I’ll drain your fluids! I’ll drain you ALL!”

“How pleasant,” said the unicorn in disgust.

Caballeron took several angry steps toward her but then quickly regained as much of his composure as he could.

“My dear unicorn,” he said, now far more measured. “I really must wholeheartedly apologize for the escape of Daring Do, but I must request that you not take it out on my employee. Although she is currently weakened by the fighting, her role in this mission is critical.”

The unicorn paused. “That may be true,” she said. “But as a knight, I cannot let your insult stand.” She lifted her head toward the Pegasus with the broken wing. “I suppose it would be appropriate to rely on Hammuriwoche’s code. A set of wings for a set of wings.”

The Pegaus nodded. His brother suddenly lifted Argiopé’s wings, and before she could even scream he had extended a blade from his power armor. There was a sudden motion, and a thin line of green-fluorescent fluid slashed across the ground. Then Argiopé really did scream in a tone so high and long that even Caballeron felt tears forming in the corners of his eyes.

She was thrown to the ground. Her wings drifted after her, slowly descending. Shaking, she immediately tried to grab them, only to find them rapidly fading to dust. “My- -my wings!” she sobbed. “My beautiful wings! They- -they took my wings!”

Caballeron closed his eyes and took a breath. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Actions have consequences. Consider it a warning. The next time you fail us, I will take something from you. And mind the fact that you have no wings, and that whatever you have does not grow back.” She nodded and the Pegasi retreated. The entire room was silent, save for Argiopé’s paniced sobbing. Everypony was staring in shock, save for those who knew the teal unicorn as their mother. They seemed to understand. Zel had drawn his spear and was twisting it slowly, muttering to himself. The unicorn seemed to notice but not to care.

“Now,” she said. “I will be assuming direct control of this operation. This mare,” she gestured toward the Pegasus commander, “is one of my most beloved. My best work. But she is still young. And this is too important to allow her to fail.”

“I am sorry to displease you, mother,” said the Pegasus. She was extremely sincere.

“As you should be,” replied the unicorn. She returned her attention to Caballeron. “My name Carillon. Carillon Heartstrings, the last living member of the Heartstrings bloodline. I am Grand Seneschal of the Order of the Red Bloom. Does that name mean anything to you?”

“No,” said Caballeron, his eyes still on the floor. He could not look up for fear of seeing Argiopé’s eyes staring back at him, blaming him for what he had done to her. “But the insignia on your shoulder. You are one of the Questlords of Inverness.”

“I am,” replied the knight. “One of precious few, rising in an unbroken line from the time of the rule of the Horn dynasty itself.”

“Your reckoning must be poor,” said Zel. “As it is well known that the Questlords are no more.”

“And yet I am here.” She lifted her head. “Zebra. You are a mercenary. As such, you are free to go.”

Zel paused for a moment, and then shook his head. “While it may be in poor taste to say/ I must ask about my pay.”

“It will be rendered,” said Carillon. “If you survive. You have my word.”

“If that is what you proclaim, then I will remain.”

“Excellent. Because if you had tried to leave I would have eliminated you on the spot. Very few have witnessed me and remained breathing. You, hopefully, will be able to count yourself among that number once we are through and have reached our goal.” She surveyed the rest of them, and then she turned to her eldest daughter. “Damage?”

“One brother has a broken wing and internal bleeding. And our sister has severe corneal damage?”

“Why?”

The Pegasus with the Mohawk sat up straight and faced her mother. “Because I was wearing contact lenses during a hydraulic rupture event.”

“Really. Then you deserve to lose your eyes. They are red for a reason. Because I like them that color. Never wear them again.” She sighed softly. Then she shrugged. “Not that you will be able to.”

“I would also like to request medical attention for one non-brethren. An earth-pony with a broken nose.”

Carillon frowned, but then smiled softly. “Granted.”

“Thank you, mother.”

Without any additional warning she slugged Caballeron in the nose. She was far too fast for him to dodge, and although he had been punched many times before, a hoof driven by power-armor was not something he was accustomed to. He was immediately thrown back as he tumbled to the floor.

“W- -WHY?!” he screamed, holding his injured nose.

“For endangering my brothers. And for embarrassing me in front of my mother.”

Caballeron stood up, and as he did, Carillon began walking. “I will send for a medical squire, as well as a repair team for the armor. Until then, I need to assemble our information and try to regroup this mess of inferiors.”

“Mother,” said the lead Pegasus. “There is one other thing.”

Carillon stopped walking and turned slowly. “Oh? And what would that be?”

The Pegasus who now thought of herself as Absence paused, not sure she wanted to say. But she could not help herself, if only out of concern. “During the battle, one of our sisters was observed. Fighting on the other side, for the dark wizard.”

“Really.” Carillon thought for a moment. “Which one?”

“A scout unit. The one we sent in Singapone to detonate our target.”

“Yes,” said Carillon without hesitation. “I recall that one. I signed the requisition. And I understand the problem.”

“It confuses and concerns all of us, mother.”

“It should. She was not supposed to survive the blast.”

Absence’s eyes widened and she gasped in disbelief. “M- -mother?”

“The explosives were timed to eliminate her along with the target. To prevent her from being a witness, and because she was defective.”

“Defective?”

Carillon nodded. “Not every one of my children are successful. And not all are perfect.” She stroked her armored, rune-coated hoof across Absence’s chin. “Sometimes there are failures. And I put them to what uses I can. In her case, her maternal imprinting system was malformed. It seems that instead of imprinting on me as you all have, she imprinted on this Daring Do Pegasus instead.”

“Is it possible to correct? To rescue her?”

Carillon shook her head. “I’m afraid not. Do not attempt to. That is an order. Deal with her as you would deal with any enemy.” She paused, seeing the pained expression on her daughter’s face. “Daughter. She is sick. Very much so. And there is only one way to treat her.”

Absence paused for a long time, and then nodded. “Yes, mother.”

“And try to retrieve her eyes if you can, they’re quite expensive.”

She walked past her daughter and gestured to Caballeron, who was still holding his nose.

“Doctor,” she said, “Your insult to myself and the Order has been atoned for, and I now bear no anger toward you. I actually find you somewhat amusing. You may accompany me and explain your progress on the Exmoori translation.”

“Do I have a choice?” he muttered.

“No. Since the moment you agreed to my daughter’s offer, you have not. And you do not now. I do not allow for choice, it creates uncertainty. I was politely phrasing an order.”

“Of course,” said Caballeron, swallowing his pride and bowing. He took his place beside her and slightly behind, walking in the rear with the enormous armored Pegasus stallion who seemed to be her aid- -or consort.

He followed them as they led him out. He could not help but look down at Argiopé, still hugging the remnants of her wings and crying silently. Deep anger welled in him, and he watched as Argiopé’s coat began to restore itself. She looked up at him, and their eyes met. He could tell that she had forgiven him, although at the same time he knew that he could never forgive himself. The Questlords were arrogant, and they had made a mistake- -and made an enemy in the process.

Chapter 40: The Wizard

The world came to its end at a precipice. It was a ridiculous sight, one that would have been laughable had it not been so obvious and depressing. A thin, winding trail of cracked not-stone led through a seemingly endless gray desert- -and just stopped. Beyond it, the fundamental physics of the world seemed to break apart. The land had been torn asunder, as if by some great cataclysm, and it floated outward as ravaged asteroids of innumerable sizes. Above, the sky was sickly yellow; below, what looked like infinite land with vast cracks stretched out for eternity in every direction.

Daring Do looked over her shoulder. She was not sure how far she had come. This world- -or half-world- -only superficially resembled her own. Time and space had little meaning, or what meaning they had was not fully comprehensible to her. She wondered if it was to Flock, but doubted he even cared.

“Where are we? What is this place?”

“A basin-plane.” Flock stood at the very edge of the path, looking out at the slowly floating ruins of many things. “A schism. Beyond this point, is phase no longer corresponds to points in any physical world. It simply exists.”

Daring Do looked over her shoulder again. Many eyes stared back at her. They had not been there before. Now, though, they stood silently- -and yet she could still hear them whispering in words that she could almost understand.

“Why are we here?” she asked, not looking away from the gaunt and pallid creatures watching her.

“Because it is where we need to be.” Without a further word, he stepped over the edge. A pair of black wings spread from his back, and for several seconds he appeared before them as an alicorn- -before he ruptured into a mass of crows. They cawed and swarmed as they raced into the void.

Rainbow Dash and Daring Do looked at each other, and then took flight. Behind them, the alicorns approached the precipice, but did not go further. Daring Do somehow knew that they would not, and she was glad- -but still not completely relieved.

There was no air, per se, but whatever ethereal medium inhabited the void made flight possible and easy. Daring Do could not help but feel like she had sailed through such a medium before, and she adapted quickly to flight without gravity. Rainbow Dash, though, struggled.

Breathing hard, Rainbow Dash began to lose altitude. She beat her wings faster, but only grimaced and sunk lower. Daring Do, upon seeing this, swooped lower and helped her up.

“This has never happened before,” wheezed Rainbow Dash. “I don’t- -I don’t know what’s wrong with me!”

“You’re very sick in this world.”

Rainbow Dash looked down at her pale, anemic body with panic. “What if- -what if I’m like this forever? Daring, if I can’t fly- -”

“You can. And you will. When we get back to the real world, you’ll be just as fit as ever. Watch.”

“Are you- -are you sure?”

“Come on, Dash. I’m Daring Do. You can trust me.”

Rainbow Dash smiled weakly. “Yeah. Of course. What the hay was I even thinking?”

Rainbow Dash beat her wings faster and with Daring Do’s help followed after the crows. Daring Do, of course, had been lying. She had no idea if the change would somehow be permanent, or if they would even be able to get back. For all she knew, the edge to this strange floating wasteland had been a point of no return, and that the wizard could be leading them into a trap.

Likewise, she assured Rainbow Dash with a pang of resentment. If it did turn out to be true, when they returned, Rainbow Dash would be young, strong, and healthy again. Daring Do, meanwhile, would be aging again and once more standing at her own personal precipice. This world made her strong, and the offer of restored youth was unbelievably tempting.

As before, distance had no real meaning. Within seconds- -or hours- -they had passed an incredible expanse. Daring Do quickly realized that they were approaching a particularly large asteroid. It was different from the others in that it was substantially large, but also in that it was made of some kind of dark material. Whereas the others appeared as though they were torn from the ground, this one appeared almost like a sphere on which strange substances had begun to crystalize- -or to grow.

“What is this place?” she said, mostly to herself.

The crows before her merged, and a black griffon appeared form them. “I do not know,” said Flock, slowing his pace and gliding in a wide arc around the vast object. “It may be a spore of Aira, or a shard of the ruins of Tanelorn. Or even a wandering fragment of Tartarus. I’ve spent an inordinate amount of time considering the question, but have yet to reach a satisfactory conclusion.”

“You…you live here. This is your home.”

The griffon’s yellow eyes narrowed. “No,” he said. “If I ever had a home, it was destroyed long ago in your history. This place is simply where I work.”

As he said it, they crested the horizon of the misshapen sphere. Immediately an enormous gouge was visible in its side, a tremendous valley formed by some ancient collision. Lying within it was a structure, a castle built with strange care toward geometric precision. The style was at once imposingly ancient and brutally futuristic, appearing superficially to be either an elaborate temple- -or an industrial-age prison. It was forged from similar dark stone to that which the asteroid was wrought.

Flock descended, landing in a wide, perfectly smooth courtyard of milled stone. As soon as he touched the ground, his form shifted; he was once again a unicorn.

“You can shapeshift,” noted Daring Do, landing several paces behind him.

“In a sense,” he replied. “I can manifest my merged body in different shapes.”

“But only in black.”

“Would you rather I had my soul to cardinals? Or perhaps blue jays?”

Rainbow Dash landed next to Daring Do, nearly tripping as she did. “This would be so cool…if I didn’t feel…so darn TERRIBLE…”

“Oh please,” said Flock, looking over his shoulder with one clouded eye. “I don’t even have lungs and I’m fine.”

“Why are we even here?”

Flock glared at Rainbow Dash. “Because we have things we need to discuss.”

“Concerning the Hand of Doom?” asked Daring Do.

Flock glanced at her. “Yes,” he said, slowly.

“I have more pressing concerns right now,” said Daring Do, dismissively. “Those two friends. They’re out there, waiting- -”

“Stop.”

“Stop?” Daring Do frowned indignantly. “Those ponies are my responsibility. I suppose Sweetie Drops will be fine, but White is just a kid- -”

“No. I mean stop being an idiot. I know it is difficult. After all, your race never evolved past banging clouds together. In case you didn’t notice, time does not flow normally here. The relationship is governed by mathematics that are far beyond your tiny featherbrains. Sometimes it moves faster, slower, or even in reverse. Right now, we could be here for years and minutes would barely pass outside. So we have time to talk.”

“And if I don’t want to?”

Flock pointed out at the void. “You are free to fly in any direction you choose. They all lead to the same place. Oblivion. Without guidance, you will never find your way back.”

Daring Do did not spread her wings. “And if I want to take my chances?”

“Then you will watch you rainbow-maned ward fall before you do.”

Rainbow Dash frowned. “First, I’m not her ‘ward’, that’s weird and kind of sketchy. But something that I would, for the record, be totally okay with. I mean, if she was offering. Second, I’m not afraid of you. Oooh, a big castle!” She waved her hooves mockingly. “I spend, like, two hours a day in a castle. And to be honest, you can’t even fight Caballeron. Daring Do can do that in her sleep.” Rainbow Dash was about to cite an example from one of A.K. Yearling’s texts, but Daring Do stopped her.

“I never said I was afraid.”

“That’s not what I was saying!”

“I just want to make sure you know where you stand.” Daring Do took a step toward Flock. “Sure. I’ll talk. I’ll even have a cup of tea with you if that’s what you want to do. Trust me, I’ve had teatime with MUCH worse ponies than you. But if you try anything- -”

“Daring Do,” said Flock, looking disgusted at having to say a pony’s name. “I assure you. Appearances to the contrary, I’m not your enemy. We have a common goal.”

“Yes,” said Daring Do, cynically. “We want to claim the Hand of Doom.”

“No,” said Flock, cocking his head at a ridiculously avian angle. “We want to prevent the Order of the Red Bloom from obtaining it. At any and all costs.”

Chapter 41: Bloodlines’ Ends

A chill was in the air. Caballeron barely noticed, even though the bed had little more than a thin sheet to cover him. Instead of cold, he only felt dirty and ashamed.

He shivered as an icy metal hoof moved up his naked back. Whatever battle or accident had claimed Carillion’s eye, it seemed, had also grotesquely removed her front legs as well. Gold-colored mechanical substitutes had been grafted to her shoulders instead. Even though she was nude, as he was, the effect of her mechanical limbs was that she was still wearing armor- -and always would be, as long as she lived.

The thought of such limbs disgusted Caballeron, but he paradoxically held her closer. His head lay on her teal belly, just above her naval. Higher up, with his head in her chest, was the head of the white Pegasus with the red mechanical eye. He was asleep, and held his mother lovingly. Caballeron held her likewise, but not out of love. He did so because he had to.

The hoof moved up to his neck, stroking it gently.

“You’re awake,” she said, softly.

“So are you,” he said, feeling his voice shaking. Any anger he had toward her had dug itself deep, hiding itself away for later. Now there was only shame.

“I rarely sleep,” she said. “An interesting side effect of old age. I suppose I’ve spent many times your lifespan asleep already. I don’t want to waste any more.”

“But you’re still here.”

“Because I’m enjoying myself.” Her single orange eye looked down at Caballeron. He found himself hating that eye. Even more than the eye, though, he hated the sarcastic smile that was slowly crossing her face. “Aren’t you?”

“Of course,” liked Caballeron.

“You’re a terrible liar. You’d no doubt rather be feeding your changeling. Preparing to counterattack against me, or hatch some doomed and desperate plan.” She lifted her head slightly and stroked Caballeron’s body. “But you can’t. Because I own you. Do you think I enjoy the touch of an earth-pony? I don’t. It disgusts me. But I can force you to do it. So I have.” Caballeron held her closer, if only out of spite. Rather than push him away, she held him tighter as well. “Or perhaps this is your way of negotiating your payment back?”

“The thought had crossed my mind,” he admitted, changing his tone to be as charming as possible.

Carillon ran her free hoof through her son’s long hair. He smiled in his sleep and nuzzled her chest-fluff.

“I suppose that’s what interests me,” she said. “Your horrible and unbecoming interest in monetary gain.”

“I have my reasons.”

“Really.” She was beginning to sound bored. “Motivations that involve rebuilding the crumbling manor that you bother calling an estate?”

Caballeron instinctively squeezed. Carillon did not seem to mind.

“No.”

“Don’t bother lying. I was briefed on you. Thoroughly. Hence why I know how much I’m torturing you at the moment. Although, to be honest…” Her tone changed, although only slightly. “There is a certain aspect to you. It is badly diluted. By outbreeding, by a coarse life style, and by your fundamentally flawed personality, but it is still there. A tiny remnant that demonstrates that your ancestors, like mine, were knights.”

“We were nobility,” admitted Caballaron. “Proud…old…powerful. And wealthy beyond measure.”

“Hmm.” Carillon twisted somewhat. “There is a certain allure to the idea of earth-pony nobility. It all sounds very…pastoral. Bucolic, even. But I’m not a romantic.” She looked down at Caballeron- -in more way than one. “Your pursuit of profit by plundering artifacts is a disgrace to your ancestors.”

“No,” he snapped. The albino Pegasus stallion stirred slightly. “I am no disgrace. My ancestors, you say? You mean my grandfather, who squandered my fortune, or my father, who squandered my birthright? The dishonor lies on them! I have spent my life working to rebuild what they took- -”

“And now you’re deluding yourself,” sighed Carillon.

Caballeron paused. “Excuse me?”

“What would you do? Use this money to rebuild a crumbling manor house? Hire peasant farmers? How pastoral. And bucolic. And when the time comes, you would transfer your title and your wealth to a son of your own?”

Caballeron sputtered quietly. That was of course not what he dreamed of- -in his dreams, he could lay on the beach of his own island, staring out at the waves, surrounded by zebras- -or perhaps an entire harem of Argiopés with enough professionalism to never reveal the fact that they were enormous insects. Yet her words were piercing, and he felt the desire for what she had described more strongly than the things he had promised himself in life.

“Earth-pony,” sighed Carillon, “another similarity that you and I share is that there is no hope of our bloodline continuing. You are the last Caballeron, as I am the last Heartstrings.” Her orange eye stared at him, and she stroked him gently. “And that may be the only position where I feel some empathy for you.”

Caballeron defiantly returned her stare, his green eyes meeting her orange. “You never produced a son.”

“Our bloodline is matriarchal.”

“Then a daughter?”

Carillon paused for a long moment. “I never produced an adequate daughter to assume the role of matriarch, no,” she said at last.

“Then these?” Caballeron pointed at her son. “I suppose they are adopted, then?”

“Oh no,” said Carillon, smiling and running her metal hoof through her son’s long mane. “I assure you, these children were born of my own flesh. After all, producing them required certain…raw materials.”

She held up one of her mechanical hooves for Caballeron to see. It glinted in the dim light of the room, and Caballeron gasped in horror as he understood what she meant, if only vaguely. The limbs had not been lost in an accident or by combat. They had been removed for a much more morbid purpose.

“…unfortunately,” she continued, “they are not capable of carrying my bloodline. And at the moment, I am far too old to give birth on my own.”

“You seem rather young. I would hate to be cuddling an old lady.”

“Your hate brings me pleasure. Would you believe that I’m over seven hundred years old?”

“Impossible,” said Caballeron, harshly.

“Not for me. Believe me when I say that I have seen things that you cannot even imagine, let alone comprehend. And done things that would turn your coarse, idiotic mane white. Things I would gladly too again.”

“Like you did to Argiopé.”

Carillon nodded. “And I was being kind. Because I pity her.”

“Because you wanted to prolong her suffering.”

Carillon smiled. “How perceptive. Yes. She will be the first to know that you spent your night snuggling me.”

“Please. Please don’t.”

“Don’t beg. It doesn’t suit you.”

Carillon flicked his hear, but then lay back, putting her hooves behind her head. The fact that they were hard and metal did not seem to bother her.

“What do you want from me?” asked Caballeron at last. “Why go through all this trouble.”

“You know the answer to that. We require the Hand of Doom.”

“For what?”

Carillon was silent for a long time. “What answer would you like? One with platitudes about saving Equestria or restoring the natural balance of leadership ? Or something trite, like vengeance? Or perhaps an outright lie?”

“I want the truth.”

“The truth is that we actually have no idea what the Hand does. Only that it was once a weapon of unimaginable power. One said to be powerful enough to grant its holder anything they desire.”

“It grants wishes?”

“No,” said Carillon. “Of course not. That would be pointless.”

“Then what does it do?”

Carillon smiled. It was the first genuine smile Caballeron had ever seen crossing her face. “It annihilates fate itself.”

Chapter 42: The Warehouse and the Stone

The resemblance to an industrial factory not only persisted inside the castle, but grew. It was immediately apparent that the architectural style within was alien, but based almost exclusively on a sense of practicality. There were no grand entryways, foyers, or even areas that could reasonably be considered independent rooms.

It was wholly unpleasant, mainly because of the paradox of an ornate stone castle that within seemed to be completely unconcerned with habitation. Daring Do was not sure if it had been part of the asteroid when Flock found it, or if he had built it himself, but she knew that she did not like it. The whole place reeked of dark magic and evil things.

What the facility was used for was immediately apparent. The walls contained a number of chambers and alcoves. They were all occupied. By what was not something that Daring Do wanted to know, but in her gut she cold already tell. This was a collection. Even without looking, she understood what these things were. She could feel the evil radiating from them. Of the few times she had witnessed Wun Perr-Synt’s collection, she had felt the same sensation- -except that it was different here. While Wun displayed her acquisitions proudly, this one did not present its contents with any aesthetic foresight. They were not organized or labeled, or given lights and velvet cushions. Instead, they were arranged against harsh industrial pipes and gauges that surrounded their cells that kept them contained and cataloged with dreary precision.

“I didn’t take you for a collector,” said Daring Do, not bothering to hide her sarcasm.

Flock turned his head. “Because I’m not. I find no joy in acquiring these things, but I have to.” He gestured around them. “What you see here is the summation of several of your tiny lifespans of work.”

“Doing what, exactly?”

“Protecting Equestria.” Seeing that this was not a complete enough response, he continued. “Although I am not a collector, this is a collection. Of artifacts, relics, texts, biological samples, machines, failed spells, whatever you can think of that is a danger to Equestria at large. I have taken it upon myself to secure these things in a place that no pony can reach- -and where they cannot reach Equestria.”

“They don’t look that dangerous,” said Rainbow Dash. She had approached a large unit housed in one of the alcoves and opened it, revealing a number of round slots containing long glass cylinders. Supercooled fog was leaking out of it as she removed one of the frozen canisters and peered through the glass.

A complicated geometric construction formed from yellow light suddenly appeared around the container, knocking her hoof back but preventing it from falling.

“HEY!” she cried. As she did, something within the cylinder screamed. Daring Do saw an unspeakable black thing strike against the frozen glass, shattering itself in the process and quickly re-forming its amorphous body.

Flock stepped over and angrily took the canister from the air. He held it out to her, causing her to grimace and look away. “Do you know what this is?” he snapped.

“Sorry,” muttered Rainbow Dash.

“Yes. ‘Sorry’. Clearly that warrants your absolution. This black substance? It is pure elemental shadow, one of the most dangerous substances known to exist.” He slammed it back into the cryopreservation unit between two other jars, one labeled as containing something called “godplague” and another filled with a warped blue fleshy substance labeled “D27”. Then he unceremoniously slammed the machine closed, and it decompressed with a hiss, freezing the shadow back into an inactive state.

“You should really keep it locked,” snapped Rainbow Dash.

“Why? You’re the first ponies other than myself who have been here in a hundred and fifty years. And the last one KNEW NOT TO TOUCH ANYTHING.”

“I said sorry!”

Flock leaned to within inches from her face. Rainbow Dash gagged at the smell. Flock then twisted his head in a distinctly avian way. The effect was hideous, and for a moment Rainbow Dash was sure that she saw feathers interspersed with his dirty black fur.

“I don’t care. I want to inflict pain on you. But I’m exercising will power. Consider yourself lucky. And keep your filthy Pegasus hooves OFF MY STUFF.”

Daring Do cleared her throat. Flock immediately lost focus on Rainbow Dash.

“You’re not a good host,” she said, sarcastically.

“And your entire inbred race are good parasites,” snapped Flock in return. He began walking again. Daring Do and Rainbow Dash followed, but Rainbow Dash was quickly distracted by the various items that filled the place.

Rainbow Dash took flight to one of the higher levels and stopped in front of a room lit by harsh purple and red lights. From the ground, Daring Do could see that it was full of plants.

“Oh, hey,” she said. “A greenhouse. Anything good?”

“Devil grass. And several mutations that could eat a planet. And one that did. Plus some blood hyacinth.”

“Blood hyacinth?” asked Daring Do.

“Like a water hyacinth,” explained flock, “except that it does not grow in water.”

Rainbow Dash backed away from one of the several plant-filled rooms and descended to a different level. The cell she stopped at contained a flickering magical dome made of many complicated interlocking pieces. Inside sat a pony-sized machine consisting mostly of brass-like gears. “And this?”

“A reverse-entropic engine,” explained Flock.

“Wait,” said Rainbow Dash. “Like, a perpetual motion engine.”

“No. One that produces more energy than it consumes. At a geometric rate.”

Rainbow Dash did not seem to understand what that meant, but Daring Do did, and she found herself very glad that such a machine no longer resided on Equestria. “And you contained it in a time spell,” she said. “Creative.”

“A failed time spell,” muttered Flock. “There hasn’t been a true chronoplexer since Starswirl the Bearded. Or Thirteen of Thirteen I suppose. Filthy horn-bearers. Moronic students occasionally manage to produce ones like this, though. The sort that consume time on contact. I have several less complete versions on the lower level. Still linked to the students.”

Daring Do shivered, but Rainbow Dash pressed on. She landed and looked up at a number of warped, hideous statues and suits of armor. One in particular caught her attention. It resembled a pony- -many of them did, especially those with the greatest levels of pain etched on their face- -but was made of a type of stone that Daring Do knew did not occur naturally anywhere in Equestria. It appeared to be a mare, her body covered in armor. Her face was masked behind a single, flat plate with a white, luminescent gemstone set in the center. The whole of the figure was battered and pitted, suggesting incredible age.

“Why does this look familiar.”

“It shouldn’t,” said Flock. “That’s one of the few things I possess that is not cursed. It’s just a statue. I found it floating in the distant void, probably for several billion years. I have no idea which universe it even came from. There is an inscription on the bottom. It describes the arrival of something called ‘the World-Eater’.”

Rainbow Dash shivered, and did not point out anything else. Daring Do, however, suddenly had her attention drawn to one artifact. She stopped, even as Flock and Rainbow Dash continued on. To her left was a doorway that led to a large round area that could reasonably be called a room of its own. Daring do stepped in, feeling her hooves crossing a number of ornate curves of various metals that were part of containment spells that she did not understand.

In the center of the room stood a large block of ice. Daring Do touched it and found that it was extremely cold, despite the fact that there was no apparent means of refrigeration. She wiped her hoof across it and removed some of the condensation, only to see a dim shadow within it. Intrigued, she wiped it again with her whole foreleg until she could see clearly into the ice. Although the image was obscured, she saw a pony frozen in the center: a small, gray unicorn.

“Do I have to tell you too?” asked Flock.

Daring Do jumped back. She had not heard him approach. “No,” she said. “Sorry.”

“Don’t bother apologizing. I hate apologies. And, frankly, this is the one thing here you can touch as much as you want. It’s made of enchanted frost. It will never thaw, and I know of no means to break it.”

“And the pony inside? Who is she?”

Flock shook his head. “I do not know. And I do not want to. Whoever she is, I am more than content to let her sleep.”

Daring Do took one last look at the small unicorn, observing as the condensation reappeared, obscuring her once more. Then she left her alone, nameless and frozen.

They returned to the main hall, and Daring Do looked up around her. There were more things of every type and every kind. She now understood that each and every one of them were dangerous items. They were not simply cursed, but unimaginably destructive.

“I think your collection is missing a few things,” she said.

“Really,” he said, sounding annoyed that she was bothering to speak.

“Yeah,” said Rainbow Dash. “Where were you when Daring Do was finding the Sapphire Statuette? Or the Rings of Scorchero! I was there for that one! Those rings that were supposed to make the sun shine forever!”

“Both pointless. The statue in question is literally just a statue. It serves no purpose. Worthless.”

Daring Do scoffed. “That statue was incredibly sacred to the ponies that made it! It represents their guardian of the afterlife!”

“Yes. Because praying to Anubis clearly served them well. Hence why the temple to their primary god was not at all abandoned for the last four thousand years.”

“Well- -what about the rings?” protested Rainbow Dash. “Those ACTUALLY would have done something!”

“Please. Eternal day. So what? Just go to your ridiculous false-god and ask her to put the sun back down.”

“Those Rings of Scorchero would have summoned Daybreaker,” snapped Daring Do.

“And I don’t care. The world would still be intact regardless of how well-lit it became.”

“And if the whole thing turned into an endless desert?”

“Then the surface world dies. Not my problem.”

“Not your problem?” Rainbow Dash had become incensed. “What do you mean ‘not your problem’?”

“Rainbow Dash- -”

“No!” Rainbow Dash put her hoof down- -literally. “I don’t trust this guy! At all! I mean, clearly you’re not getting paid, right? Wizards don’t need money.”

“Not true,” said Flock, “but no. I don’t get paid.”

“So this is charity? All about protecting Equestria and whatever- -but then you don’t actually protect ANYTHING! What’s your deal, then? What are you trying to do?”

Daring Do actually found herself agreeing. “Yeah,” she said. “What are you trying to do, Flock?”

Flock turned his gaze from one of them to the other. He then put his hoof to his head. “Yes. Let me rephrase it. I suppose that I have boundless faith in pony adaptability. Despite being legion as crows, I’m still just one pony. I can’t track down every artifact. So I categorize them based on threat. Only the worst of the worst end up here. Contained in ways only I know how to contain them. Things that must literally not be allowed to exist- -and yet do.”

“Like the Hand of Doom.”

Flock’s eyes widened, and the whole of the room suddenly fell silent. “Come with me,” he said, softly.

They were led far into the castle, far deeper than it seemed to go from the outside. Daring Do had the impression that they were deep underground when they finally reached the edge of a large, octagonal room. It was one of many linked together, forming a vast honeycomb-like network.

It was a library. It had a cold and sterile appearance compared to the one in the Crystal Empire, or even to Twilight’s Royal Library, but the stone floor inlaid with curves of metals and the arching ceiling gave if a beauty that the other parts of the castle lacked. Shelves of books stood on exactly half of every facet of the octagon. Daring Do shivered upon seeing them. The tomes were dark and bizarre, and quite clearly evil.

“Great,” sighed Rainbow Dash. “Another library. So, what? More reading?”

“No,” snapped Flock. “Nothing in here is permitted to be read. Not by you at least.”

Rainbow Dash frowned. “So why have the books, then?”

Daring Do looked up at the shelves. “These are books too dangerous to be left on Equestria.”

“Of course. A personal area of study for me. As I do actually read them. Transcribe them, catalog them.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m a wizard.” Flock shrugged. “It’s what we do.”

“Well, they say there was never a wizard that didn’t like reading. But I have to ask. Do you have anything here by Gxurab Al’Hrabnaz?”

Flock’s eyes narrowed but he did not hesitate in his answer. “Yes,” he said. “Almost all of it.”

“Wait a minute!” A look of realization crossed Rainbow Dash’s eyes. “That- -that was YOU! In the Crystal Library! You stole a book from me!”

Flock looked at her, and again did not hesitate. “Yes. You are correct. But that book you held was not one that would have helped you. In fact, it was profoundly dangerous. One I somehow missed. Those books must absolutely not be read. Under any circumstances.”

“Except by you.”

Flock did not answer. He continued deeper into the room, clearly having no intention of showing them the Al’Hrabnaz books. Daring Do stared up at what else he had and shivered. As an author, libraries normally gave her a sense of dizziness simply from what she thought of as the weight of the text around her. In this library, though, that weight was horrid and disturbing. The things written in these books had come at great and terrible costs, and should they ever be accessed again, the costs would only grow. Yet, for some reason, Flock allowed them to continue to exist.

She suddenly stopped, looking at one of the facets of the room that contained no shelves. Instead, it had a small, simple desk. Above it stood a picture. That was somewhat surprising, as Daring Do had not seen anything like that before, nor had she witnessed any evidence that Flock actually lived here.

This image, though, was definitely of him. It was a large glass daguerreotype tinged in sepia. In it stood Flock, wearing a waistcoat as well as a neatly starched shirt with short sleeves below it. Although still sickly looking, his eyes were straight and his mane tied back neatly. He even bore a thin smile.

To his side stood another pony, a mare with the proportions of an especially well-built stallion. She wore clothing from a similar time period in addition to an unusual set of shoulder and hip-high boots. What little skin was between her boots and jacket was covered in unusual tattoos.

Flock quickly appeared beside her. He waved his hoof and the glass of the photograph instantly darkened.

Daring Do turned to him. “Who was that?”

“‘Was’ is the operant word,” snapped Flock. “I didn’t bring you here to look at useless photographs. It takes a considerable amount of energy to move beings like you here.” He stopped at a large, battered case. He opened it and removed a perfectly formed piece of moonstone, and then produced his watch. Opening the watch, he ejected the old stone. It was charred and corroded. Flock tossed it away and put a new stone into the system. The gears turned, shifting, and closed around the stone.

“Are you just going to leave that there?” said Rainbow Dash.

“The jellenheimers will deal with it,” muttered Flock.

“Wait, what?”

“They tend to congregate here. Never mind. Just don’t look into their eyes and you’ll probably be fine.”

Daring Do followed him through one open facet into another octagonal library room and stopped. “Why are we here, Flock?”

“You already know that, apparently.”

“I do. This is about the Hand of Doom.”

“It is.” He pivoted toward her. They stood face-to-face.

“What do you know?”

“A great deal,” said Flock.

“Then tell me. All of it.”

Flock began to circle the room, occasionally staring up at the collection of horrid books that lined four of the eight walls. “The Hand of Doom is an artifact of abnormal and incredible destructive power.”

“I already know that. What is it for?”

“It is not ‘for’ anything in particular. It is a piece of something much more substantial, the rest of which has been lost.”

“And reuniting it with the rest of the pieces would do what, exactly?”

“It cannot be reunited. It is a fragment of something long-dead.”

“Well if it’s just a piece, we don’t have to worry,” said Rainbow Dash. Even she knew that was not true.

“And the Exmoori?”

“Yes, the Exmoori,” sighed Flock. “They were the first to become desperate enough to try to use it. It had been buried and lost to time. The Exmoor ponies brought it back. They built a machine to harness it. As a kind of power source.”

“I figured it was something like that,” said Daring Do. “But what does it actually do?”

“Nothing. Or it did do nothing. It was never used. Because the Hand of Doom cannot be controlled. Not ever.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning,” Flock’s eyes narrowed, “that if somepony WERE to try to use it, they would invariably lose control. The results would be disastrous.”

“The same could be said of anything in here.”

Flock shook his head. “The Hand is unique. A threat which cannot be measured or even fully comprehended.”

“Meaning you don’t actually know what it does,” said Rainbow Dash.

“It causes destruction,” said Flock, simply. “Which is why it is given its name. ‘Hand of Doom’. Do you know what ‘Doom’ means in Exmoorish?”

“Pain,” said Daring Do. “Destruction. Extinction.”

“And betrayal. Dishonor. Failure. The Exmoori held the concept of death- -and by extension the dead themselves- -in endless contempt. Death was considered an unforgivable failure of the individual.”

“But everypony dies eventually.”

“And the dead are superseded always by the living. Which makes it surprising that the Exmoori did not appreciate the appearance of the false-gods. By their own beliefs, the Hateful-Sun and Destroying-Moon should have been perfect beings.”

“Which might be why they hated them in the first place.” Flock had clearly not thought of that. Daring Do, however, was more focused on something else than a discussion of religion. “You know an awful lot about the Exmoori, don’t you.”

“Yes. I do. And I know exactly what happened to them, and how they failed. But that’s not the point. This way.”

He turned sharply and led Daring Do across the room. One of the unused facets of the large room was devoid of shelves and instead held a single large object. As they approached it, Flock waved one of his hooves at it. What appeared to be a covering disintegrated and vanished. When Daring Do saw what was underneath, she gasped.

“No way,” said Rainbow Dash.

Daring Do approached cautiously, realizing that she was shaking. There, standing before her, was a vast stone fresco- -all of it carved with exceedingly intricate, delicate figures and strange letters. Many of them she had already come to know well.

She whirled around. “Is this…”

“The original?” Flock shook his head. “No. Like the Exmoori themselves, the obsidian version was lost to history. This is the Mighty Helm version. Your copy was made from this.”

Daring Do looked up at the relief, and then slowly moved her hoof across it. Flock did not protest; if he had, Daring Do would not have heeded him anyway. The lines were cut deep, carved with incredible skill and conviction. The material itself was a type of fine-grain granite, something that the vast majority of ponies- -especially of that era- -would have found impossible to carve, especially in a single piece of this size. Even for a pony with the skill and tools, this was not the type of work that could be done in a single year, or two, or ten. This was somepony’s life work. Somepony whose name had been- -like the original he copied and like the ponies that had carved that one- - lost to history long ago.

“It’s beautiful,” she said.

“It’s a rock,” said Flock, clearly finding no significance in the stone apart from what was written on it.

“I’ve seen this part,” said Daring Do, pointing to one particular portion. Her eyes slowly drifted toward the remainder, a section written in a style of text she could not read. “But I don’t have this.”

“No,” said Flock. “Caballeron has that portion. Although at this point I believe he has a detailed copy of the whole thing.”

“But we have the original,” noted Rainbow Dash.

“Which is not helpful,” said Flock. “There is no difference between this one and the copy.”

“Then why show me?” asked Daring Do.

Flock was silent for a long moment. Then he stepped forward and stood beside Daring Do. “Did you know that I can read this?” he asked.

“That doesn’t answer the question.”

Flock pointed to the section that Daring Do had already translated. “The story of the Exmoori. How they stood against the false-gods and were crushed to oblivion for defying the Sun. Their hope to use the Hand, and their realization that doing so would bring nothing but pain to this world. The death of the last pureblooded Exmoor pony.”

“Pureblooded?” Daring Do looked at the etchings. It had not been visible in the etchings because the symbolic addition for the adjective had been so small. On the stone, though, it was obvious and clear.

Flock nodded. “The second-to-last Exmoor pony. Her son was Gigantes, a half-breed.”

“Gigantes was a Pegasus,” said Rainbow Dash. “That’s basic history. He was one of Commander Hurricane’s elite fighters.”

“Legends tend to diverge from reality. Two of the ancient races were completely expunged from history. Even their true races are not allowed to persist. No, that would be blasphemy. And remind the world that Celestia is NEVER kind.”

“That means we were looking in the wrong place.” Daring Do frowned, feeling her head starting to ache. “Lyskymm’s a dead end.”

“But Caballeron has the Spear of Extinction,” said Rainbow Dash. “And I was there, at the spot where Hurricane used it!”

Flocks’s eyes widened. “The Spear of Betrayal,” he said, softly. “You haven’t taken it from him yet?”

“I didn’t exactly get a chance!” snapped Daring Do.

“Well you should have!” Flock groaned, and put his hoof against his head. “Do you have any idea how much time I spent working with that horn-bearing inbred to make sure Caballeron acquired it?”

“Wait,” said Daring Do, recalling a black pony at Wun’s mansion. “That was YOU?”

“You were working with Caballeron!” cried Rainbow Dash. “TRAITOR!”

“I work with whoever I choose to get the job done,” retorted Flock. “And of course I helped him. There was no way you could get the Spear, and you need it to open the tomb!”

“What are you talking about?!”

Flock pushed past Daring Do. She recoiled, not wanting to touch his grotesque body. “This portion,” he said, pointing at the new section that Daring Do had not read. “It describes the facility. How the machine works. That’s far beyond you, but it also describes the facility’s defenses. The Sink, where the Rabid Ones roam; the Defenders in the facility proper, although that likely meant Exmoori soldiers that are now long gone; several sets of traps, and finally this, beyond which lies only Solum Finis and the Hand of Doom itself.” He put his hoof against the stone over an insignia that Daring Do recognized as the signature of the last pureblooded Exmoor pony combined with the cartouche for death, rendered in the second term that also meant dishonor.

“What is that?”

“The final gate, which will ask for the blood of a child of Exmoor. Blood whose residue exists on the end of Caballeron’s Spear.”

“So you knew this. And you didn’t say anything.”

Flock stared at Daring Do with his blank expression. “Yes. Honesty is the most important of the Elements of Harmony.”

“Um, excuse me?” said Rainbow Dash.

“I didn’t need you to do the translation. I followed you because I think that you may be able to provide the missing piece.”

“What piece?”

Flock pointed up at the carving. “I can read this. All of it. I know the exact history, I know how the system works- -I could even build this machine again, if it came down to it, just from this schematic alone, even if it was created to warn me not to.” His expression suddenly darkened. “But nowhere on this stone does it say WHERE the Hand actually is!”

“Of course not. The whole point was to keep ponies from finding it. To warn them, like you said. Why put a map to it on the warning?” Daring Do still frowned, though. That tended to be exactly what ancient civilizations did, in her experience.

“You have no idea how hard it is for me to admit that I am not able to do something. I have not had to do it for a long, long time. But you are supposedly the best at this.”

“I am. But why should I help you?”

Flock stared at the carvings. “Because,” he said, not looking at Daring Do, “Caballeron is on the other side. With a full copy of this stone, on paper. How long do you think it will take before he finds the way?”

Daring Do frowned. “And if he does, the Questlords get the Hand.”

“Yes. And the Order of the Red Bloom is known for being especially vicious, in case you were not aware. They will try to use it. And they will fail. The destruction to our world will be unimaginable.”

“And if you find it?”

Flock’s eyes flicked toward her. “Then we will decide on a way to contain it. I can take it here, if you wish. Or you may present it to one of your false-gods. What becomes of it does not matter, so long as it is not awakened.”

“Why don’t we just destroy it, if it’s so dangerous?” asked Rainbow Dash.

Daring Do and Flock both gaped at her, and then ignored her ridiculous suggestion.

“Right,” said Daring Do. She took a step back from the stone and looked it up and down. “I don’t know if I can trust you.”

“I’ve given you no reason to. If you knew the things I’ve done, you would not trust me either. But I assure you: all my actions are for the good of Equestria.”

“I’ve heard that before,” muttered Daring Do. Still, he was right, in a sense. If Caballeron really did have a complete version of this carving, then it was only a matter of time before he figured it out. He might even have an advantage in that department; as a linguist, he was far more advanced than Daring Do. Yet here she stood with the Mighty Helm version of the stone itself and a pony- - if he really was a pony- -who could read it easily and in its entirety. This might well have been her only chance.

The allure of finding the artifact first began to call to her. It was a familiar feeling, and she felt her eyes searching the stone even before she had made up her mind as to whether she would help Flock or not.

It was different put together into a single piece. The components were all there on paper, but not together. Sometimes not even in the right order. Daring Do, to her dismay, found that several of the frames she thought were supposed to connect were actually on completely opposite sides of the stone, separated only by a number of thin grooves that ran in linear or geometric patterns throughout the stone.

That caught her eye. The lines had never been substantial in the drawings, and she could see why. For the most part, they neatly divided sections of the text. Whoever had made the rubbings had either ignored them completely by using them to set the edge of the rubbing paper on, or only taken the especially thin ones that could not be avoided. Together, though, the lines were extensive. And they did more than divide the text.

An idea suddenly occurred to Daring Do. It was a ridiculous idea, but one that as she thought it made more and more sense. She stepped forward, her mouth slightly agape with surprise at not having seen it before. She ran her hoof over a large, perfect circle that was one of the nexuses of a particular section of lines.

“This,” she said.

“Yes,” said Flock. “It’s a division in the text. They are traditionally marked with oblique lines in Exmoori writing.”

“No, no, that’s not it.” Daring Do leaned over. “Look here. It’s the history of the machine, and two lines go straight through it. And this?” She pointed at the cosmology section. “The pony races each have a line going through them. It’s almost not even there…” Daring Do ran her hoof over it, finding that it was so thin that she would not have even been able to slide a knife’s edge into it if she had tried. “I didn’t see it, but it makes sense. All of it makes sense!”

“What?”

Daring Do stepped back and laughed. “They’re divisions. Not in the text, but in the stone itself.”

“It’s a single piece of stone.”

“Yes! Because that’s what the Mighty Helm carved it as! But what if the original wasn’t?”

Flock stared at it. “You mean it was in pieces?”

“Yes- -no. Not quite! Look.” She stepped forward and traced the lines with her hoof. “The Exmoori were an advanced technological race, right?”

“Not the most advanced, no, but more so than the rest of you primitives.”

“What if the original was mechanical?”

Flock froze, and then looked up at the stone. He then looked down at Daring Do, and at the stone gain. His mouth opened as if to deride her suggesting, but then he found himself walking closer to the stone and inspecting it carefully.

“Oh mane,” whispered Rainbow Dash, who was shaking from a combination of missing organs and extreme excitement. “Daring Do, I wish I could marry you.”

“I’m not your type, Dash, and you’re not mine.”

Rainbow Dash blushed, realizing that what she had thought was a wish inside her own head had actually been spoken out loud.

“Yes,” said Flock.

“You’re not my type either,” said Daring Do.

“Not that. You’re right. You’re actually right!” He broke out into a sound that was almost like laughter, but so grating that it raised the hair on the back of Daring Do and Rainbow Dash’s necks. “It is! These shapes, this could represent a mechanical mechanism!”

“Too bad the original is lost,” said Daring Do. “The Mighty Helm copied what was written on it, but not any secret mechanisms.”

“No, they didn’t.” Flock stepped back. “But the shape is complex enough that I believe the original mechanism can be reconstructed mathematically. By extremely advanced mathematics, of course, but ones that I am by no means incapable of.”

He produced the moonstone-powered clockwork dial that he carried and placed it on his chest. It seemed to sink into his chest, and it held there even after he took his hoof away. The gears inside it then began to turn and shift, rearranging themselves into new and complicated patterns.

The moonstone crystal suddenly shifted, and the whole of the stone before them appeared to separate from itself as a yellow, translucent hologram of it appeared, pulled forward and apart from the original.

“Let’s see what I can do.”

New elements appeared on the hologram, behind it and linked to the various pieces. The pieces then swung and shifted, sliding against one another at various angles. This did not work on the first try; the pieces would often slide in ways that either interfered with one another, or in ways where no real, definable mechanical system could propel them.

Flock continued, though. He performed the necessary mathematics and abstract processing, and the mechanical structures became more refined. His testing accelerated as specific motions became clear, to the point where only Rainbow Dash was able to follow the rapid motion of the components.

Then, suddenly, it all stopped.

“I have it,” he said.

The holographic version of the fresco changed slowly. Daring Do watched as the pieces shifted. Some moved backward into the system, connecting and interacting with complex three-dimensional curves and angles. Others split and twisted, or moved past one another on a path to new destinations. Watching it was impressive, both in that Flock had been able to decipher something so complex and that the Exmoori had been able to design and carve it in the first place.

Then, finally, it all stopped. Flock stood in front of a completely different fresco, one that now resembled a symmetrical star.

“So this is the right conformation?”

“It’s the only conformation,” said Flock indignantly. “If you are right, this would be the only alternate form it could take.

Daring Do nodded and approached the hologram. She looked at it carefully. What had before been the history had been split and merged with the technical data in ways that were no doubt enigmatic and interesting, despite being completely indecipherable to her.

It may have been her inability to fully translate that allowed her to grasp its true meaning. Rather than being bogged down in searching through the details of the newly formed words and text- -as Flock clearly was, his eyes continually pouring over the hologram even as Daring Do examined it- -she noticed right away what needed to be noticed.

“Look,” she said, pointing at several points on the hologram. “The cosmology. The six races are all in different spots.”

“So?” said Rainbow Dash, squinting to see them.

“They’re not symmetrical.” Daring Do leaned close to the Pegasus diagram, and at the new ideograms that surrounded it. One stood for mountain. Another stood for ice.

“They’re locations,” she said, leaning back. “It’s a coordinate system.” She looked across it, spying two symbols at an unusual oblique angle. “Over there,” she said. “That’s the symbol for Luna, and that one for Celestia. Those are the anchor points, the horizon.” She looked at the other insignias and the text near them. “The unicorn one says ‘mountain’, ‘waterfall’, and ‘temple’. That must be Canterlot. And the Pegasus one is Lyskymm. The earth-pony one has ‘fire-mountain’ and ‘ocean’.”

“Like in the story,” said Rainbow Dash. Daring Do looked at her, frowning. “You know. Rockhoof. He saved an island from a volcano. With a shovel. It’s like the most earth-pony thing ever.”

“Right,” said Daring Do.

“I know the island,” said Flock. “What about the others?”

“Thestrals are from Ponmania. Walkalachia, specifically. And the Exmoori one seems to reference the Crystal Citadel. But…” She leaned over toward the last race. “I don’t know this one. I don’t even understand what it is, or who they were. And we need all six to triangulate with this coordinate scheme.”

“Southwestern Equestria,” said Flock. “In the desert.”

“But there’s nothing out in those deserts.”

“Not anymore,” he said, darkly. “But I know what location it’s referring to.”

“Then can you calculate it?”

Flock paused. “Yes. I can. And I have. I know where the map is pointing.”

“Where?”

Flock paused, and Daring Do wondered if he was actually going to tell them. She realized that in her haste, she had expended all of her leverage. He no longer had any use for them, if he wanted to simply go after the Hand of Doom on his own.

“Hyperborea,” he said.

Daring Do groaned. “Cadence’s haunches,” she swore.

“What’s wrong?” asked Rainbow Dash. “I mean, we know where it is, right?”

“Sure. We know. But we can’t get there, can we?”

Rainbow Dash frowned. “Why not?”

“Because it’s Hyperborea! As in, average yearly temperatures of two hundred below and mountains that make Lyskymm look like a tiny pile of horse dung. No one goes to Hyperborea, not even me. And if anypony did? They don’t come back.”

“So you’re just going to give up?”

“I kind of have to. All the gear in the world couldn’t get us over the first set of hoofhills. You’ve seen the weather outside the Crystal Empire?”

“Yeah. It’s bad.”

“That’s because it’s on the very edge of Hyperborea. The EDGE.”

Rainbow Dash preemptively shivered. “We’re going to need thicker coats for that.”

“We’re not going. I’m not going to let you put yourself in danger for something we can’t retrieve. If the Hand is out there, it’s safe. Caballeron’s a greedy, arrogant jerk but he’s not stupid and doesn’t have a deathwish.”

“I can get us there,” said Flock.

Daring Do and Rainbow Dash stared at him. “What?”

“You heard me. This thing.” He pointed at the dial on his chest. “I can reenter space wherever I so choose. And if that location is where I think it is, I can do so without burning up my crystal. If you give me a few hours to reset several of my gears.”

“So you can just teleport us?”

“Yes. Essentially.” Flock turned to them. “And Caballeron is allied with the Questlords. Extremely powerful unicorns. He can also teleport using their magic.”

Daring Do winced. “So quitting isn’t an option,” she sighed. “Same as ever. Right.” She clapped her front hooves together. “You need time to prepare. And so do we. I really, really need to sleep.”

“I do not,” said Flock.

“Good. Because there’s something I need from you.”

“Do you think you have the right to ask that?”

“No. I know I do. Because I’m still missing two members of my team.”

Flock nodded slowly. “Of course. I’ll send part of myself to retrieve them. Immediately.”

Chapter 43: The Spy and the Agent

The rush of the wind grew and snow brushed past the opening of the shallow cave. Outside, there probably would have been an incredible view of endless, uninhabitable mountains. Something that would look good on photographs but that no pony was meant to have to wake up and see.

Sweetie Drops unsheathed her sword. With one swift motion, she turned it so that the blade pointed downward. She then stabbed the tip of the blade into a resinous, gnarled log of cedar wood. The runes on the silver blade flashed with an orange light, and the wood erupted with fire.

The light illuminated the small, blind cave, as well as its contents. There were few. The only one present was a second pony, one whose artificial irises shifted in response to the sudden surge of firelight. The light only further illuminated the injuries she had sustained: in several cases, her white coat had been marred by dark bruises, including an extensive one around her left eye.

“Wow,” said Sweetie Drops, putting her sword back in its scabbard. “They beat you really bad, didn’t they?”

White did not respond, although her eyes flitted toward Sweetie Drops and stared blankly. Otherwise, she sat perfectly still. It was an unnerving habit.

“Don’t worry,” said Sweetie Drops, leaning back against the cold stone walls of the shallow cave. “They can’t get us here.” She pointed to the entrance. “That’s a sheer drop. Five hundred feet straight down onto jagged rocks.”

One of White’s wings spread out, although she did not make any other gestures.

“No,” replied Sweetie Drops. “They won’t. Because they can’t. Iodine cretinism. They can’t fly. The goats could probably get to us I guess, but seeing as neither of us have any money, I doubt they’ll bother.”

White’s wing quickly retracted, but she said nothing else. She did not have the capacity to say anything else, and Sweetie Drops was not sure how she felt about that.

“That armor,” she said, pointing. “You don’t get cold, do you?”

White did not need to answer, even by moving her head. It was a rhetorical question. Sweetie Drops already knew the answer. Instead, White raised one of her hooves to her mouth, miming the appearance of putting on an oxygen mask- -like the one that Sweetie Drops had lost in battle.

“I don’t need it,” lied Sweetie Drops. “Believe me, I’ve been in places with less air than this. I’m trained to deal with it. That and the cold. I don’t have armor like yours, but I don’t get cold either.” That was also a lie, but neither of them were egregious; her training did make her far more durable than a normal pony, but the lack of oxygen and extreme cold were still sapping her strength. She would survive, but she could not fight in this state. Not for very long, anyway.

So she moved closer to the fire. The wood was giving off a noxious smell and a plume of thick, black smoke, but it was warm. Sweetie Drops added a few branches to it and watched the needles spark and hiss.

She stared into the flames for a long moment, and then sighed. “Of course this would be my luck.”

White did not respond. Instead, she sat perfectly still, staring unblinkingly at Sweetie Drops. Sweetie Drops tried to pretend that White was exhibiting normal behavior for a teenage pony.

“They just keep pulling me out of retirement. Whenever something goes wrong, whenever they can’t cut it. I get called back. I’m tired of it. This was supposed to be my last mission. To bring in Caballeron, make him pay for what he did to my agent…and now look at me.”

White did exactly that. She never stopped looking.

“And do you know why?”

White shook her head. It was a tiny motion, but it was reassuring to Sweetie Drops. It mean that the young Pegasus was not asleep.

“Because I’m the best there is.” Sweetie Drops sighed and leaned back. “Most ponies in the agency are ex-military. Guards, mostly. A few are zoologists. Some are even mages and wizards. But not me.” She turned to White. “That’s where we’re similar, I think. Did you know that I never knew my parents? I was raised by vedmaks. An ancient order of monster hunters that no one bothers to remember anymore. They gave me that sword, and they gave me my skills. And now I’m the best there is at hunting monsters.”

White continued to stare. Her expression had not changed, but Sweetie Drops knew that she was listening.

“…and I wish they never had,” sighed Sweetie Drops, staring into the fire. “Do you ever get that feeling? That all of this is pointless in the end? That all you want is to stop fighting, retire, go on to lie a normal life?”

White did not reply. Perhaps she did not know the answer.

“I don’t know if you’re old enough to know it yet. But I am. I’m way too old. I don’t want to hunt monsters anymore, to climb these stupid mountains. The only reason I don’t snap that sword in half and throw it in a lake is because it was given to me by a friend.” She looked up. “I just want a normal life. To go live in a small town like Ponyville. To have a house. Maybe a shop.” She sighed. “To have Lyra. To go home to her every night, to see the smile on her face. To sit with her in the park and watch the world go by.”

Sweetie Drops reached into the pocket of her coat and removed a small photograph. She passed it to White, who took it and directed two of her retinas at it.

“That’s her,” said Sweetie Drops. “My Lyra.”

White’s two retinas stared. Then suddenly the rest of them flicked downward to the photograph. A thin, nearly silent gasp escaped her lips, and she recoiled as though the photograph had burned her. She quickly gave it back to Sweetie Drops, who observed all of White’s reaction with clinical detachment that belied great interest and curiosity.

“Interesting,” she said, but decided not to pursue it any further. “I guess unicorns aren’t for everypony. All those bright colors. But the things they can do with those horns…” She chuckled. White did not. She seemed even more pale than before. Sweetie Drops’s curiosity grew, but she knew that questioning White would be useless. The Questlords had gone through great pains- -mostly her pain- -to ensure that she would never betray even the smallest amount of information on any subject.

“So,” said Sweetie Drops. “What about you?”

White pointed to herself, confused.

“Yes you. Do you think I can’t tell? Somepony trained you. Hard. Like they did to me. You’re a solider, or a spy. Maybe even an assassin, don’t know. Do you ever think about what you would do if you didn’t have to be what they made you? If you could just live a normal life?”

White did not hesitate. She shook her head, indicating “no”.

“Huh.” Sweetie Drops stared out at the growing storm. There was not enough wood. “Well, I guess I can’t tell you what to think. But I will warn you: that path doesn’t go anywhere good.” She paused. “But I guess you can’t get any worse than where you are, can you?”

They were both silent for a long moment. Sweetie Drops considered trying to sleep, and wondered if she could avoid it in this cold- -and what would be waiting for her on the other side. She felt her eyelids growing heavy as something dark fluttered into the cave.

Before she had even opened her eyes, Sweetie Drops had drawn her sword, causing White to jump back in surprise. The creature that had approached was a solitary crow.

It was not an ordinary crow. Sweetie Drops was no Fluttershy, but she knew animals. Crows never flew this high on their own, and there was no way any bird short of a mountain roc would venture out into a frigid storm like the one raging outside. The bird was iced over, and its eyes were staring blankly. They were yellow. Sweetie Drops did not even need to wait for the taste of metal in her mouth to be able to see that it was being sustained entirely by magic.

The bird stumbled into the cave. It did not seek the warmth of the fire, nor did it likely even see it. Sweetie Drops frowned at it, and White stared, watching while sitting perfectly still.

“So it’s you,” said Sweetie Drops, recognizing the bird- -or its owner, or whatever he could be called- -immediately. “Can’t a mare go to sleep in piece? I’m tired. So very tired…”

“I don’t care.”

White was somewhat taken aback by the bird’s response. Sweetie Drops was not. Although it was a less well-known feature, crows were capable of sometimes mimicking the speech of ponies, like parrots could. The voice was high, crackling, and distorted, but Sweetie Drops instantly knew that this crow was not repeating sounds. She was speaking with purpose- -or rather, somepony was speaking through her.

“What do you want?”

“You already know that,” spoke the crow. “If you mean why am I here, it is to retrieve you. Daring Do requests your presence.” The crow’s clouded eyes flicked toward White. “Both of you.”

“‘Retrieve us’? Now? In this storm?” Sweetie Drops laughed. Doing so was painful. Like white, she had been badly beaten by the villagers. She just chose not to show it. “Is that one bird going to carry us down the mountain? Or up it? Sure, White might be able to make it flying. But I can barely stand right now. I’m not getting down this mountain.”

“Because you are a primitive genetic failure. Yes. I know.”

“Says a bird. You’re not controlling them, are you?” Sweetie Drops leaned forward and stared at the bird. “Genetic purity my tender rump, your real body has been gone for ages.”

The crow glared at her. “I don’t like you,” it said at last. “But Daring Do was very specific in this regard. We will be retrieving you. Whether you give us permission or not.”

Sweetie Drops shivered. She slowly turned her head and realized that the shadows that filled the cave were filled with crows. Silent ones that watched with vaguely luminescent eyes.

“Oh road apples,” she swore.

The crows flew forward, merging as they did. Their flesh combined into a single entity: a black unicorn.

White immediately stood up, her eyes wide with terror and her lips wrenched in a silent scream. She eyed the entrance to the cave, and moved toward it- -but stopped when she realized that Sweetie Drops could not go with her. Instead of escaping, she interposed herself between Sweetie Drops and the wizard. She leapt forward, performing a perfect kick that even Sweetie Drops found impressive. It landed, striking the black unicorn- -and passing through his body. Pieces of him flew off: pieces that sprouted wings and cawed wildly as they flew back into the high ceiling of the cave.

“Don’t touch my birds,” he said. “I love them more than anypony will ever love you.”

He raised his hoof, and Sweetie Drops saw the flash of something round and mechanical. Her eyes widened, as she knew what it was. She had not realized that there were any still in existence.

Space flashed, and she had a strange feeling of inversion as she fell. It was nauseating, but her mind for some reason focused with unusual fear on the fact that she could no longer feel the warmth of the fire. Then, in an instant, both Sweetie Drops and White had departed from Lyskymm.
 

Chapter 44: The Final Trail

Sleep came with dreams. It was an unavoidable consequence of a long life. Daring Do, in her time, had lived through more peril and adventures than could be had even by unicorns with their half-millennium lifetimes. This came with its share of regrets- -and those were always the first things the dreams summoned.

At first she considered herself lucky. In this particular dream, she was floating through the void. Not the debris-filled region of interdimensional space that Flock inhabited, though, although perhaps something contiguous with it. Something far higher, from where all the debris that might ever have been there had sunk out into other places long ago- -save for a few strange and unspeakable things that could never fall from the endless and eternal emptiness.

It was the place Daring Do could sometimes glimpse if she were teleported. In those times, it terrified her. In a dream, though, it was peaceful. She could float in the dark and emptiness, freely rejoicing in the fact that there was nothing to disturb her. Even her consciousness began to fade.

Then, suddenly, she heard it. Knocking. The sound was simple, and distant at first, a low tapping against some far away object, perhaps through and endless expanse of deep water. Yet somehow it was terrifying.

Daring Do sat up from the cold floor. She looked around, and although the world was black- -yet somehow lit in a way that she did not understand- -she had the perception that she was somewhere. A room, perhaps, or a cell. As she slowly stood, she realized that one wall was blacker than the rest.

That wall radiated menace. Yet, for an unknown reason, Daring Do was drawn toward it. She stared into it, as if looking through a window into a pool of pure ink. That was an apt description: she was sure that what lay on the other side was not dark void, but some kind of thick, opaque, black substance.

The sound came again, and this time Daring Do saw what was making it. She wished she had not. A metal hand emerged from the darkness, its pointed fingers tapping gently against the wall. The taps were almost imperceptibly light, yet Daring Do understood that they should have been crushing. That if the hand had touched her, she would have been shattered beyond repair, even in a dream. Yet the wall prevented it from reaching her.

“You can’t reach me,” she said. Her voice echoed strangely- -or, rather, failed to echo. She had a sense that she was in a room, a square, cubic room, but there were no walls that she could perceive. Whether it was a prison, something meant to protect her, or a metaphor, she did not know.

“Too…far…”

The voice seemed to tear through Daring Do’s head- -yet was spoken from her own mouth. Unlike her own voice, it seemed to echo limitlessly, both through her cell and through the endless inky void beyond.

Daring Do understood, though not consciously. Something peered back at her from the emptiness. She could see the outline of a tall, thin shape. Yet all that was visible was its hand.

“Who are you?” she asked it. As she spoke, she wished she had stayed silent.

Another pain through her head, one that nearly made her scream. “Don’t make me- -Don’t make me- -Remember…”

Anger flared within Daring Do, and the figure watched, not understanding but clearly interested. She felt its interest echoing through her, and she did not know why.

“Why are you following me?!”

A long pause. Then a response. “I want…”

Despite the pain, Daring Do called back to it. “What do you want? WHAT?!”

Only horrible screaming came in return. Then, a cry from Daring Do’s own lips.

“TO BE BORN.”

Daring Do clutched her head against the pain. An image came to her. One she could not comprehend. It was too horrible.

Others came as well. Tall, thin creatures uncorrupted by the machinery but already insane as they planned the End of Times. A dying planet covered in crystal. An empty void. Then the first image again, this time clear, even as Daring Do’s mind pushed out the sight of the black shape looming before her. Her will was strong enough to not understand, to not read the words that no one had ever written upon the ebony surface.

“Why do I know you?” cried Daring Do. “I’ve seen your world! It died! You killed it!” she caught her breath. “Why?”

A long pause. Then a simple, agonizing answer. “To evolve.”

“But you failed.”

Another pause. “Endless. Endless. ENDLESS. ENDLESSSSSS.” More screaming. “NOTHING LEFT…”

The black image appeared to Daring Do again, and the screaming instantly stopped. Daring Do wished it had continued, because she now understood. What she saw were shadows that even this thing did not remember. They were part of an era that no longer concerned it. It had not been alive in a very, very long time. Yet living flesh persisted within it, beneath the metal and foul magic that maintained its being.

“Be born,” it said, now quietly. “Be born. Please. It must be born. Please…please…”

Then, in a different voice, one spoken from the black ink beyond the wall. “Destroy me before I am born.”

Daring Do sat up suddenly and silently. She was sweating and confused, and she froze when she saw a pair of eyes staring back at her. They belonged to a gaunt alicorn who stared at her, watching, before turning and departing through a solid stone wall.

Only then did Daring Do breathe. She did not know if that was part of the dream or not, but hoped that it was. Whatever those alicorn were, she did not like them. The emotional response was not so much fear as a mixture of disgust and, strangely, horrendous pity.

She stood slowly, expecting her body to creak and for her joints to be swollen and frozen. Yet, as she rose, she encountered no resistance. Even though she had slept on a cold, hard floor with nothing but her winter clothing as blankets, her body was painless and well-rested. It was almost frightening. Instead of an old mare a few years out from mareopause, she seemed to have the body of a teenager.

Shaking off the sleep, Daring Do put her coat back on and departed the room where she had slept. She had not had time to inspect the facility before sleeping, but she highly doubted that there were any better accommodations than perhaps a large aviary. Being so tired, she had just fallen asleep in the first empty artifact-holding chamber she had found. The impression it gave her on waking was unpleasant; she felt like an artifact that had been stored away, meant to be contained apart from Equestria for all eternity. Like the unicorn mare in the enchanted frost. It might have explained why she had dreamed that she was in a cell.

Daring Do paused. She remembered part of the dream. Being in a cell, and pain in her head. No more of it came to her.

She ignored it and continued down the long corridor. This part of the castle was low and silent, and most definitely deep underground. Flock seemed to organize his artifacts by size, and this region contained a number of the smaller ones. They lined secured shelves on one wall, as well as shelves in various small rooms like the one Daring Do had slept in on the other side.

Most of them gave off an exceedingly unpleasant malevolence- -in some cases literally. Daring Do stared at them as she passed. A few came from cultures she recognized, or had been transferred down several throughout the ages, with each adding modifications. She saw grotesque ceremonial knives, skulls carved from crystal, black gemstones filled with swirling masses that almost looked like screaming faces, among other unpleasant artifacts.

She stopped at one long shelf. The contents were not unpleasant, and Daring Do did not know why she stopped at first. Then she realized how familiar they were. The rack contained a number of identically sized, round objects that appeared to be made of clockwork. All of them were made of the same whitish metal, but most of them were badly corroded. Some were charred, crushed, or otherwise incomplete; one had a hole straight through the center.

They were the same type of machine that Flock carried. Except that these were dead.

A sudden motion caught her attention and she turned sharply. As soon as she moved, though, the motion stopped, leaving her eyes to scan the shelves and alcoves. She waited.

It moved again. This time Daring Do saw where, and she approached a small niche that contained a globe-sized magically projected sphere, one that was maintained by a system installed in the alcove and linked to the rest of the machinery in a somewhat haphazard way.

Daring Do approached the sphere. She leaned forward and looked inside. It was translucent, and after a moment her eyes were able to discern a tiny metallic shape. One that looked like a tiny pony.

The figurine suddenly moved. It raced up the side of the sphere, leaping toward its equator and toward Daring Do before it collapsed on its back and slid down. It would lie there for a moment, then pick itself up, wander around aimlessly, and eventually try again.

As it moved, Daring Do could have sworn she saw tiny mechanical parts within it. Regardless, this was not a clockwork automaton. It was a golem. A ridiculously tiny golem, perhaps the smallest she had ever seen. She was not even aware that such delicate workmanship was possible.

The tiny golem jumped again, and something seemed to tickle the back of Daring Do’s mind. She had seen a figurine like this before. She reached for one of her pockets, feeling through her coat. She still had her notes, her broken whip, and a few supplies- -but not the tiny die-cast wizard that Dulcimer had given her.

Suddenly a scream rent the air. Before she even realized what she was doing, Daring Do was already halfway down the hall, propelled by her newly youthful and arthritis-free wings.

Daring Do arrived within seconds into one of the larger warehousing rooms. As she did, the scream was already rising in pitch. For a moment, she though it was coming from Rainbow Dash, but as she entered, she saw Rainbow Dash lying on the floor, rubbing her head.

“Rainbow Dash! What ha- -”

Flock was suddenly thrown past her. He was once again wearing the dial in his chest, and projecting pale yellow magical shield around himself.

Before Daring Do could ask him what was happening, another barely articulated shriek filled the room. A shrill and heavily accented voice screamed across the room.

“YOU WILL NOT HURT ME AGAIN!”

There was a flash of white, and then a flash of sparks as a rune-covered sword struck Flock’s shield spell. It wavered, but it did not break. White then turned and struck again, her red eyes flaring with rage. Flock once again parried, but poorly. It was obvious that White, unlike her sisters and brothers, had never been trained to use a sword. She just swung it wildly and nearly blindly. Against any competent opponent, she would be on the ground already if not worse. Flock, however, was far from a competent opponent. He, likewise, had no idea what he was doing, and seemed to have no idea how to move as a unicorn.

“Abomination!” he yelled. “That’s a vedmak sword, do you have any idea what that will do to me?!”

“It will return to you what was done unto ME!”

She slid past his shield and struck him in the leg. Black ichor spilled out, which quickly evaporated into magical shadows. Crows burst forth from the wound, flying wildly and desperately trying to escape the injury inflicted by the silver sword. Flock screamed in a distinctly avian tone and burst into crows completely. They flew through the air and reformed on a higher ledge. He was breathing hard and, despite being fully rebuilt, clearly in pain.

White spread her wings and hefted the sword. It was quite clearly too heavy for her; Darning Do doubted she would be able to fly holding it. In case she cold, though, she stepped forward.

“White!”

White turned to her, raising the sword. Her red eyes met Daring Do’s violet ones, and both ponies gasped in surprise. “M…mother?” said White.

“White? You- -you can talk?”

White’s hoof went to her throat, where the scars had been from the surgery that had deprived her of that ability in the real world. “I can here,” she said. “But…but I can’t see…”

“Yes. Yes you can. You just have normal eyes. Like I do.”

White blinked. “This…this is how you see?”

Daring Do nodded.

“I…I didn’t realize. I never had my own eyes before.”

Something rushed through the air behind them. Rage suddenly returned to White’s eyes, and she raised Sweetie Drops’s sword. Daring Do did not need to know that Flock had landed behind her.

“Get away from him, mother,” warned White, stepping forward with the heavy blade in position for a clumsy block. “I won’t let him hurt me, not again, and I won’t let him hurt you or Pretty-Dash either!”

“Oh come on!” wheezed Rainbow Dash from across the room. She struggled to stand, and managed to do so despite missing much of her heart and lungs.

“White,” said Daring Do, blocking her path to Flock. “Please, something’s wrong, I can tell, but I don’t understand. You can talk now. Can you tell me what’s wrong?”

White’s eyes narrowed. She pointed the tip of the rune-sword at Flock’s face. “This- -this thing! This BAD thing! He took me, here, to this place where I can talk, and he- -he did things to me.” She shook her head, trying to hide the fact that tears were welling in her eyes.

Daring Do turned sharply to Flock. “Is this true?”

Flock stared with his bird-like eyes. “Yes,” he said. “Although I assure you it was nothing unseemly. Horribly painful, admittedly, but it was important to the acquisition of knowledge. Also I found it fun.”

“FUN?!” screamed White. “FUN? I can’t sleep alone! Bad nightmares! Not without seeing metal, or feeling my bones being- -being- -” Unable to articulate what she meant, she held up her hooves, showing new and strange scars. Then she lifted her white hair, showing similarly fresh scars.

Daring Do glared at Flock. “Why?”

“I already told you. Because I found it interesting. And fun.”

“Fine.” Daring Do pushed White back. “Then you can find the Hand of Doom on your own.”

Flock’s eyes narrowed. “What?”

“You heard me. Take us back. To Lyskymm. To anywhere, I don’t care. Not here.”

“You’re joking.”

“I’m not.”

Flock’s face contorted in a way that Daring Do was sure a normal pony’s would be completely unable to. “Are you that thick? You can’t complete this task without me!”

“I’ll find a way.”

“I helped you! I saved your life! I gave you access to the carved stone, I was the one who did the math to create the map!”

“And you were the one who tortured this girl!” Daring Do stepped forward, causing Flock to retreat. His eyes grew wide. Despite all his power, it was more than apparent that he was a coward. “You hurt one of my friends, one who was vulnerable and weak. What gives you the right?”

Flock leaned forward. The dial in his chest clicked menacingly. “Genetic superiority.”

Daring Do passed her hoof through his face. His head burst into a plume of crows which circled and rapidly reassembled back into Flock’s hideous face. “No,” she said.

She turned to White, who was staring at her, unsure. Despite this, her eyes were filled with what seemed to be deep admiration. “We’re leaving,” she said. “Find Sweetie Drops and give her back her sword. You shouldn’t use a weapon like that unless you’re prepared for the consequences.”

“Y…yes, mother.”

“And I’m not your mother.”

White nodded, even though it was clear she did not understand. She allowed Daring Do to lead her away, toward the opening to the room. Rainbow Dash followed, still unsure about the whole situation.

“She’s not even a real pony, you know,” said Flock.

Daring Do suddenly grabbed the sword from White. She pivoted sharply and stomped toward Flock, raising the rune-covered blade. Flock saw this and smiled. He raised a hoof, and Rainbow Dash suddenly cried out. A translucent magical disk had appeared around her neck.

“Don’t be too hasty,” he said, still smiling. “I don’t know what happens to a pony if they’re fully manifested in the alternate phase and get…injured.”

“Don’t listen to him, Darning Do! There’s no way he would- -ERK!”

The collar had tightened, and Rainbow Dash pawed at it.

“Try to be quiet, Rainbow Dash,” said Daring Do. Flock loosened the spell, allowing Rainbow Dash to breathe- -but also making its edge far sharper. Rainbow Dash did not see that part, but Daring Do understood what he meant. That the next time it would not be simple strangulation.

“Will you hear me speak?”

“I have nothing to say to you.”

“Then listen. I once had a body. A beautiful, perfect body. And when I was alive, I was a scientist. Which is why things like her,” he pointed at White, “draw my curiosity.”

“You mean fillies who don’t even have their cutie marks?”

Flock glared. “Don’t be vulgar, it doesn’t suit you. Or maybe it does. But it does seem you’ve noticed.”

“Noticed what?”

“Her lack of cutie mark. Among other things.”

“Then call her a late-bloomer. It happens.”

“You don’t understand.” Flock was becoming increasingly annoyed. “Questlords. They are unicorns. Always and invariably. When I saw these things, these albino Pegasi, I began to wonder. To grow curious. That very rarely happens at my age.”

“So what?”

“You never realized it? How each of them is nearly identical? Perfect white, red eyes, colorless manes? Did you ever stop to wonder what they are?”

“They’re ponies. Unlike you.”

Flock hissed. “No,” he said, regaining some fraction of his composure. “They are not. They are synthetic organisms. I stripped out her chromosomes. Counted them. Slowly.”

Daring Do shivered. “And?”

“Forty pairs exactly. Five more than a normal pony and just over half of a unicorn. And her mitochondria? They’re not Pegasus. They’ve come from a unicorn. As has her bone marrow.”

“You’re lying.”

“I rarely lie. And not when it concerns my research. You’ve seen the scars on her body.”

“Scars you left.”

“Wounds in this world leave no scars in the real one. No. Those were left by somepony else. Her entire body is filled with implants. Metal, mostly. It’s not just her eyes. And even stranger, there are signs that her growth rate was artificially accelerated. I would estimate that she is no older than a year.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“No,” said White. “He is correct. I am currently eight months and five days old.”

Daring Do turned to her, wide-eyed. “W…what?”

White nodded solemnly. “I do not know how we are born. I was not adequate to work assisting Mother. But he is not wrong. We are born from Mother, and from her machines.”

Daring Do looked from Flock to White, and then to Rainbow Dash. Despite wearing a magical collar, Rainbow Dash just shrugged.

“Don’t look at me,” she said. “But to be honest I’m kind of digging the drama. Oh, and you have a really cool accent, White!”

“Thank you, Pretty-Dash.”

“Don’t call me that, though, it sounds so stupid.”

A voice called from behind them. “Can one of you applebuckers help me?” growled Sweetie Drops.

Daring Do turned, and gasped in horror at what Sweetie Drops looked like in this world. Rainbow Dash nearly spilled her oats.

“What is it?” said Sweetie Drops, pulling herself in on her front legs. “I can’t feel my legs. The back ones. I don’t know why. Why can’t I…” She looked down and grew pale. “Oh buck,” she whispered.

“It seems they’ve taken your spine,” said Flock. “As well as almost everything below it. How interesting. They must really find you amusing.”

“WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY LEGS?!”

“Nothing. You’re out of phase. You’ll be fine when I return you to your own world. Or, rather, as soon as Daring Do decides what she wants me to do.”

“Me?” asked Daring Do, turning.

“Yes. I’m getting calmer. I don’t like swords being swung at me. I’m adverse to being injured. I’ve never liked it, even when I was mortal. Yes. You can leave. Because I’ve realized you’re not necessary.”

“Not necessary? But you said- -”

“I only needed the map from you. I have it. I know where the Hand of Doom is. I am capable of retrieving it myself. If necessary.”

“Then why haven’t you already done it?”

“Because it puts me at undue risk. I am a mage. I study the arcane, create texts and gears. I am not made to fight. I would lose in a fight with this failed clone, let alone with the better ones- -or even a real blooded Questlord. Not to mention the traps. I could use help.”

“I’m not helping you,” said Daring Do. “Because you hurt White.”

White put her hoof on Daring Do’s shoulder, and shook her head. “No,” she said. “I didn’t realize that he was critical to the mission. That you had this planned. I hate him, and I am afraid of him. But not when you are here. You make me feel better. If you order me to go, I will go. And I will protect you. And Sword-Horse and Pretty-Dash.”

“I’m not Pretty-Dash,” muttered Rainbow Dash.

“Sword-Horse sounds pretty cool though,” said Sweetie Drops. “And, for the record? This is really, really uncomfortable. I think I’m missing a stomach. Or maybe have an extra. The faster we can get back to ANYWHERE the better.”

Daring Do paused, thinking. Then she turned back to Flock. “Fine,” she said. “Take us there. To the Hand of Doom. But if you try anything- -”

“You will be the first to know.”
 

Chapter 45: Ancient City

Deep below the frozen earth- -earth whose permafrost had not been warmed since the chaotic, fiery formation of Equestria in the time that only the Blue-Lit Flowers might remember, had they still existed- -lay a cavern. It was one of a surprising few that had never known light. In its entire history, throughout the countless eons it had sat cold and frozen beneath endless mountains and glaciers, it had never once known the touch of Celestia’s sun, or Luna’s moon, nor had any glowing crystal brought light to the darkness. The darkness was pure, absolute, and terrible.

It was within this never-lit darkness that a machine suddenly began to hum to life, its gears grinding for a moment before spinning effortlessly, lubricated by gemstones cut in a way that no pony or creature still remembered. The gears swirled, shifting and repositioning, and exposing the crystal within. A crystal that did not emit light, yet reached out, feeling its way forward. And it found a link.

A door was forced open as another set of gears matched it. A smaller set, but one far more intricate and infinitely more well-wrought. Two crystals reached each other, linking across the gulf of space and time and a dimensional parameter that had no name apart from “phase”.

Four ponies and Flock stepped through, with Flock leading, his dial sending a stream of invisible energy across to the now rapidly spinning and whirring circle of gears and cogs before them. Then, all at once, his system gave the signal. The connection dropped, and while the gears of the latter machine continued to spin, the door no longer had any means to keep itself open.

Flock stared at the machine. In absolute darkness, he could not see. But he did not need to see. The only one amongst them who saw the world perfectly was White, cursed once more with unblinking mechanical eyes.

“I can’t believe this machine still works,” he said, in awe. “A thousand years. A thousand years since they’ve been gone, and it still works…”

“What works?” muttered Sweetie Drops. “You really are a dark wizard, aren’t you? Well, news flash: we’re not. So make with the light, I can’t see my own butt in front of my face. And for the record, I had BETTER see my butt when the lights come on.”

Flock sighed and raised his hoof. A yellow sphere appeared before him, and for the first time since the dawn of Equestria, the cavern was lit.

The ponies- -save for White- -blinked from the sudden light, having been momentarily dazzled. When Daring Do adapted, she gasped in awe at the realization that, although this was a cavern, it was anything but natural.

Before them stood a machine, a giant face of something that was not quite a clock that stood twice as high as a pony, a single needle-like gem fixed in its center. It was linked to machines- -and in the distance of the light, Daring Do could see that the room had been carved into an immense hall. At every juncture stood perfect, straight lines, carved flawlessly from stone. There were no curves, but in the perfect symmetry that hardly mattered; the linear patterns and angles meshed in mathematically perfect ways to give the impression of incredibly complexity combined with almost brutish industrial force.

Daring Do leaned out and touched part of the stone. It was perfectly smooth, and showed no signs of tool marks.

“By Celestia,” she whispered.

“Celestia had nothing to do with this place,” replied Flock, Darkly.

Daring Do looked upward at the extensive room. “I’ve seen a LOT of carved stone temples in my day. But this…this wasn’t made by chiseling. And it wasn’t made by any sort of drill, it’s too complicated.”

“No drill you could conceive of, no,” said Flock. He lifted his nose to the air, sniffing. The air itself was thin and barely breathable, but warm. Far warmer than Daring Do had hoped for.

“How deep are we?”

“Not very. Transport coils were usually built no greater than fifty miles in depth due to high-mantle flux vibrations.”

“Fifty miles?” cried Rainbow Dash. “I mean- -I can definitely fly that. And totally run it- -probably in like an hour and half tops- -but how can we be that deep?!”

Flock stared at her as if she were an idiot. “We’re not. At that depth you would have been cooked to a pleasant golden-brown and I would be in the process of basting you right now. Modeling temperature, rock type, and structure, we are probably no more than one or two miles down. And this is the way out.” He pointed and began walking down one of the perfectly square but strangely twisting sides hallways. One that clearly appeared to be designed for creatures that either could fly or cling to walls.

“Oh, it’s good to have my lower body back,” said Sweetie Drops, kissing her own rump, an act that required impressive flexibility. She turned to White, and she frowned. “Oh. Sorry about your eyes. And voice. You can’t talk here, can you?”

White waved her hoof, dismissing it. She was at least pretending not to care.

“When we get back to Equestria, I’ll try to find you a doctor,” assured Daring Do. “One who can fix what they did to you.” She paused, staring ahead at Flock. “If you want me to. I just think you should have a choice.”

White did not respond, because she had no means to. Not because she could not talk, but because she had no way to express the emotions that Daring Do’s offer caused to well within her. She did not understand what they were, so she dismissed them in turn.

Daring Do might have noticed had she not begun to focus on the dizzying turns of the hallways around her. Although they looped and shifted, there was no wasted space; strangely shaped but perfectly geometric rooms were formed on each side. Many of them seemed to have been occupied by something or other at one time, although in the weak light Daring Do could not see much apart from the remains of vast machines.

“Why is this here?” she heard herself asking. “Who built this? Was it the Exmoori?”

“No,” said Flock, as though that were obvious. “Contrary to what you may have heard and what I might have implied, the Exmoor ponies were not as highly advanced as you may expect. Their weapons and armor were peerless, yes, but the scientist who sought to use the Hand of Doom was an exception. Others built this. As a support system for her operations.”

“But they were more technologically advanced than ponies now.”

Flock snorted. “Of course. Even the Exmoori could produce machines that modern ponies would not be able to comprehend. But the same could be said for any race of pony at the time.”

Daring Do was confused. “That doesn’t make sense. In general, primitive cultures may have greater rituals and magical capacity, but their technology of course isn’t anywhere near what we have today.”

“To a point. But not before. After all, time is decadence.”

Rainbow Dash raised an eyebrow, confused. “You mean like, cake and stuff?”

“He means decay,” sighed Sweetie Drops. “He’s saying that technological capacity diminishes over time. Which is ridiculous.”

“And yet your leader cannot stop staring at empty hallways.” Flock looked back at them. “There was a time when this world was ruled by technology. That time passed. The world atrophied and began to move backward. What was had was lost, and those who could built it along with it. Technology was demonized and magic subsumed it, but did so poorly.”

“But why?” asked Rainbow Dash, clearly still confused.

“I’m not a philosopher,” muttered Flock. “Try asking your false gods the next time you pray to them.”

“Don’t tell me you actually believe any of this,” sneered Sweetie Drops. She had stopped at one of the rooms. Flock stopped as well and slowly turned to her. His eyes were hideous in the artificial light, but for the first time Daring Do saw something in them. He seemed immensely old.

“I do not ‘believe’. I do not have the capacity,” sighed Flock. “But I was already very old when I created the curse that renders me immortal. From your eyes, I can tell that despite having that sword you never completed your training. You will never live as long as I have, and you will never see the world as I have. You simply can’t.”

“I don’t have to live a long time to know how the world works. Getting old just makes you get nostalgic, and you forget what things mean. You think technology is so great? Then explain what this is.”

She pointed into the room. White turned sideways, and even in the low light was able to see. Her expression hardened. Rainbow Dash noticed and stepped to the gap. Daring Do did as well.

The room inside was wide, tall, and thin, and although its style was overall different it looked distinctly similar to the endless rows of shelves that Flock used to store the artifacts and relics he had collected. Except that rather than having individual cells filled with various items, the walls were filled with meshed octagons. Each one was filled with strange machines.

Daring Do focused on the lowest one, the one that Sweetie Drops was pointing at. Her breath hitched and she felt herself frown. The cell contained a number of large, cylindrical containers linked to the rusted remains of the machines that surrounded them. Some of them appeared to have what looked like glass, although Daring Do doubted the substance was anything so pedestrian.

A few had been broken or tipped over, revealing their contents. It was by far not the first time Daring Do had found skeletons in an ancient tomb, but it proved to be unfortunately memorable. The skeletons were linked and bolted into the chambers, their bones held in place by various clasps. The skeletons were often incomplete, but those that were showed unusual lumps and formations- -as well as thick black ropes of a dry, unidentifiable material growing over them.

Rainbow Dash looked up at the room, which apart from machines was filled with at least several hundred more tubes, all linked together. “Sweet Celestia…there’s so many!”

“Well, wizard?” asked Sweetie Drops. “What is this?”

Flock stared at it. “I don’t know,” he said. Daring Do could easily tell that he was lying. “But I don’t like the look of it. Don’t touch it. Don’t even get near it. Stay away. Leave it buried. Let them rest.”

He continued to stare at them and specifically at Rainbow Dash, who was approaching one of the skeletons. She did not seem to fear the bones, or the strange tendrils that covered them. Daring Do, however, had a bad feeling.

“Dash,” she said. “Let’s go.”

“But…”

“But nothing. We’re not here for this. What we want is on the surface. And we have to hurry. If Caballeron gets there before us…well, you know what will happen.”

Rainbow Dash stood up straight. “Right. I know. Don’t worry, Darning Do. I won’t let you down. I’d even Pinkie-Promise it!”

“Pinkie…what?”

Rainbow Dash blushed and pushed past Daring Do. “Sorry. It’s…a long story.”

Daring Do watched Rainbow Dash, and watched the light fade from the room of skeletons. Her eyes briefly met those of Sweetie Drops, who nodded in acknowledgement. They both knew the same thing.

“White,” she said. The younger pony looked at her. “We’re going to run this in pairs. You stay with Sweetie Drops. She’ll protects you. And you’ll protect her. I’ll do the same for Dash.”

White nodded, accepting her orders.

“I don’t like it,” said Sweetie Drops, clearly not referring to White. “I don’t like any of this. I’ve never trusted wizards, and I don’t intend to start now.”

“Which is why you and White need to stick together.”

“Which is why you need to watch your step. VERY carefully.”

Daring Do slowly and solemnly nodded. Then she turned back to the hall. Instead of going to Rainbow Dash, though, she quickly walked to the front, to Flock. Rainbow Dash hung back; she was a perceptive mare, and knew that Daring Do wanted to speak with the sorcerer alone.

“You lied,” she said. Quietly, so that the others could not hear her, even though she was sure Sweetie Drops still could. “You know what that was. What they did here.”

“I have an idea,” said Flock. “Yes. That is correct.”

“I can’t work if I don’t know what I need to know.”

The eye on the side of Flocks’ head that was facing Daring Do flicked downward toward her. It seemed to glare, but for just a moment looked almost like that of a pony. “You do not need to know this, Daring Do. Somethings are not meant to be known. Secrets that are best left with me.”

“For your own purposes?”

Flock continued to stare. “No. Had I still had access to an afterlife, to take with me.”

“This place. You know it, don’t you?”

Flock shook his head. “No. I only knew that it might exist. This place was abandoned long before I was born. Perhaps long before the Exmoori even came to the land above. But I can tell that this was a dark place. More than literally.”

“So you’re right at home.”

Flock paused. “Had anypony else lived here apart from who had, yes. Yes I would have. And you and I would have never had to have this conversation.” He turned forward. “This places knows me even if I do not know it. But it does not know you. Your peril is great. Be careful, and hurry. There are many miles to go before we can reach the surface. I hope you do not tire easily.”

“I may be old, but I’m not old enough to outright stop. Don’t think I am.”

“I don’t,” replied Flock, gravely. “But I believe that soon enough you will wish that you were.”
 

Chapter 46: Frozen Jungle

As Flock had suggested, the journey took many miles. They passed quickly, though; the city underground was vast, and its ancient and long-departed builders had understood that its inhabitants would need to move rapidly through it from time to time. It possessed long, straight corridors that seemed to at one time house enormous trains, as well as tunnels intersecting and linking with many individual portions of the complex. Flock led the way, seeming to have an instinctual understanding of the system despite having never been there. Under his guidance, they eventually reached a way to the surface: a tall, wide chimney that led straight up for many meters.

Ascent was easy. Flock reverted to the form of a murder of crows, while Rainbow Dash and White helped to lift Sweetie Drops. Daring Do ascended alone, just behind the last of the crows. The whole while, she prepared herself. Dim, gray light was overhead, and she knew that when they reached the top, time would be limited. Machines still hummed distantly in the ancient city, providing it with warmth, but Hyperborea was cold beyond comprehension and had been since prehistory. They had to hurry, or they would freeze before they could ever reach the Exmoori facility.

Except that the temperature never dropped. It stayed the same as they ascended, although the air became fresher and less stagnant. There was still a slight chill- -it was by no means warm- -but there was no chance that the temperature above was any higher than freezing.

Then, when they finally reached the top of the well-like structure, Daring Do stared outward in disbelief. She had anticipated rocky, sterile crags blown with snow and covered in deadly glaciers. Instead, she found herself in a jungle.

“Oh WOW!” cried Rainbow Dash, her eyes goggling as she poked her head out. “This is a jungle! A REAL jungle! Just like in at least seventy percent of the books!” She squealed softly. “Oh man! Look, a tree fern! This is just like in Quibble’s fanfiction! It was so cool! It had cannibal zebras, but all they said was ‘ooga-booga’!”

“Not okay,” said Sweetie Drops, who was struggling to claw her way out of the whole with White’s help. In her excitement, Rainbow Dash had let go. “Even the crow wizard isn’t THAT racist.”

“Nor do I see why cannibalism would be an uncivilized activity,” sighed Flock as her materialized his body. “In fact zebra is usually quite excellent in quality.”

Daring Do shivered and did her best to ignore them. Instead she focused on the jungle. It disturbed her deeply. The air was barely above freezing, and the sky was dark to the point of almost being black. Lightning illuminated the black clouds and thunder cracked distantly. Yet plants grew here. Tall, lush things with leaves in shades of pale violet and blue, or even opalescent green. Daring Do had ventured into a great many jungles on several continents, and a lifetime of having to decide which plants where good for eating and which were deadly poison had taught her a small modicum of botany- -but none of these plants were species even close to what she recognized.

“Why is this here?” she asked, suddenly. Her tone caused the others to hush. They suddenly understood that she was concerned, although apart from Sweetie Drops and perhaps Flock none of them likely knew why. “This jungle. This shouldn’t be here.”

“The system underground is venting an immense amount of heat,” replied Flock. “This is the ‘sink’. As for the plants…” He reached out and grasped a dull but enormous feathered leaf. It curled and retracted from his touch, and then died. “I don’t know what these are. Perhaps something native to Hyperborea.”

“There can’t be things ‘native’ to Hyperborea,” grunted Sweetie Drops.

“The Exmoori were.”

“I don’t like this,” muttered Daring Do, scanning the thick growth. Most of it was strange trees that had grown immense over thousands of years, although the undergrowth was thick with vines and dull-gray, harsh looking plants. The soil was soft with sticky, sickly-smelling moss. “Every single time I get into a jungle, something goes really, really wrong.”

“Well, we don’t need to go through it,” suggested Rainbow Dash. “I mean, all but one of us have wings. We can totally fly it!”

She spread her wings and took off. Daring Do did not get a chance to stop her.

“WAIT!” she cried.

It was too late. In the trees, something suddenly moved. The underbrush parted as machines ground to life. Daring Do saw them twist, and saw the flash of light as they turned their sensors toward not only Rainbow Dash but the rest of them as well. She saw the barrels pointing at her, and then heard the high and familiar whistling of darts sailing through the air.

Sweetie Drops and White acted on instinct alone. White leapt forward, raising the armored parts of her hooves to cover Sweetie Drops. The darts struck the metal and fell away harmlessly. Simultaneously, Sweetie Drops’s sword flashed as she drew it and struck a dart out of the air just before it could reach White’s flank. She turned again, changing the angle, and in a wide arc struck three more before blocking another two with the flat of her blade.

Flock did not bother to dodge. The dial he wore on his chest clicked, and translucent yellow armor formed around his body. The darts vaporized on contact.

Rainbow Dash and Daring Do were not so lucky. Daring Do felt the prick of the needles as they penetrated her coat and skin. Rainbow Dash, likewise, was hit several times. It seemed to annoy her more than anything, and she landed gracefully- -only to stumble.

“Wh…what?” she said, her eyes growing bleary. She turned slowly toward Daring Do. She was shaking. “Daring…I don’t feel so…”

She collapsed to the ground.

“DASH!”

Daring Do rushed to her side, ignoring any more darts that were coming toward her. Rainbow Dash was lying on her side, several darts sticking up from her. Her breathing was already starting to slow.

“I can’t…I can’t move…”

“Hold on, Dash, hold on!” Daring Do tore out several of the needles. Rainbow Dash did not even wince, even though the arrows were viciously barbed- -and hollow. She had lost the ability to feel pain.

Daring Do quickly sniffed one of the darts, and her heart sunk.

“Iocane,” she whispered. She looked over her shoulder. “The darts are tipped with iocane powder!”

Sweetie Drops became pale, and her expression became stern. “Then it’s already too late. There’s no cure.” Sweetie Drops’s eyes narrowed on the numerous darts poking into Daring Do’s body. “But you’re hit too- -”

“It doesn’t matter! I’ve built up a resistance! But she hasn’t! Dash! DASH!”

Daring Do bent down, trying to hear for breathing. Rainbow Dash was still respiring, but the rate had slowed almost to a stop.

“Her pulse is fading,” said Flock. “I can hear it.”

Daring Do glared up at him. He seemed to be watching Rainbow Dash fading with clinical amusement. “Then DO SOMETHING!”

“What makes you think I know healing magic? I’m a mathematician. I study architecture, dimensional algorithms, quantify the soul- -but I do not know any spell to treat illness.” He paused. “Even if I knew it, I could not complete it. Even the most powerful mages cannot cure iocane poisoning. There has been some research, yes, but it would take incredibly powerful magic.”

“Then…” Daring Do chocked slightly. “Then there’s nothing I can do.”

White appeared by her side and hugged, her, and Daring Do lifted Rainbow Dash’s hoof. It was already cold. The pulse had stopped. “And it’s…it’s my fault…oh Celestia, I did this…”

“Don’t blame yourself,” said Sweetie Drops.

“THEN WHO ELSE AM I SUPPOSED TO BLAME?!”

Sweetie Drops was silent, and Daring Do felt herself staring to cry. Flock stared at her, and something shifted in his eyes. He sighed. “Is this pony a mission-critical resource?”

“Wh- -what? What is that supposed to mean?”

“Do you need her to complete the mission? Is she important?”

“Of course she’s important!” cried Daring Do.

Flock rolled his eyes. “Then take off her coat.”

“What- -”

“As a Pegasus, her brain is somewhat resistant to anoxia. But if you delay…well, I’d say ten seconds. Maximum.”

“Just do it,” said Sweetie Drops.

Daring Do did not understand why, but she started to tug at Rainbow Dash’s jacket. Her hooves were shaking and numb, and she felt sick at the limpness of Rainbow Dash’s body. She could not managed to get it off.

“MOVE,” ordered Sweetie Drops. She shoved Daring Do out of the way and slid her silver sword down Rainbow Dash’s neckline. With a flick of the blade, she cut the clothing free.

“Excellent,” said Flock. He reached to his chest and removed the dial from it. It came away with a sickening sound, and Daring Do was horrified to realize that despite being flat on its own, when it was connected it actually went quite deep.

“This is not out of altruism,” he said, turning the gears and aligning the dial’s systems. “It is purely out of curiosity. Also, because I can guarantee that it will be painful. EXCEEDINGLY painful.”

Before Daring Do could ask what he meant, Flock lowered the dial to Rainbow Dash’s chest. It began to whir and spin, the gears selecting new settings as mechanical systems engaged. A set of legs extended, and Daring Do watched as they attached to Rainbow Dash’s skin- -and burrowed beneath it. The dial, now like some sort of hideous living thing, pulled itself tightly. Daring Do saw the tendrils moving beneath Rainbow Dash’s skin.

Then it stopped clicking. The silence lasted only for a moment. Then it was rent by a scream.

Rainbow Dash shot up, immediately writhing. The force was so great that when White and Daring Do tried to hold her, White was thrown back into a small shrub.

“CAPTAIN SPITFIRE!” cried Rainbow Dash, saluting shakily. “Rainbow Dash reporting for duty! I’m ready coach! GET ME THE WHEEL- -wheel…” she blinked and looked around. She was breathing hard, her body instinctlvly attempting to reverse the lack of oxygen in her brain. Every breath she took made one of the gears in the dial ratchet forward. Another small set turned at the exact rate that an excited Pegsus’s heart would beat.

“D..Dash?”

Rainbow Dash turned to Daring Do, and her eyes widened. “OH M C! D- -Daring Do!” She stood up sharply. “Omigosh omigosh omigosh, is it my birthday? Did Pinkie get you to come? Oh mane I didn’t think she could beat out the party last year, but…but…” she winced and looked around. “Wait. Wait a minute.” She paused, putting her hoof to her head and flexing her wings instinctively. “No. No, I was in the jungle. And I got hit with darts…”

“Poison darts,” noted Sweetie Drops.

Rainbow Dash’s eyes widened. “Poison? POISON?! SWEET TWILIGHT’S TICKLISH WINGS!”

“Dash- -Dash!”

“Am I- -am I going to- -” She gasped, and tears ran down her eyes. She immediately wrapped herself around Daring Do’s legs. “I- -I never kissed a stallion! Or a MARE! Except Fluttershy but that was ONE TIME! And Gilda but she’s a griffon and doesn’t even have lips! I- -I can’t go! I’m too young and athletic! Who’s going to take care of TANK?!”

“Rainbow,” said Daring Do, lifting up Rainbow Dash’s face in a way that pinched her cheeks into silence. “You’re not going anywhere. You’re not poisoned.”

“Actually, she is,” said Flock. “Her organs are still shut down, and the effect is spreading. Slowed, but still moving.”

“Then how is she still walking? And breathing- -”

“The technetium dial has assumed most of her vital functions.”

“Technetium?” said Rainbow Dash. “What the heck is- -” She looked downward and her eyes widened when she saw the clock-like mechanism imbedded in her chest. “WAIT! I didn’t agree to this! Get it off! GET IT OFF! It feels reeeeallly weird!”

“I can remove it,” said Flock. “But then you would lose circulatory integrity. And expire. Then I would eat you, most likely.” He pointed at the machine. “That dial is the only thing keeping you alive right now.”

“But- -”

“No buts,” snapped Daring Do. “Dash, you have no idea how close you just came to- -to- -”

“And she still is close to it,” said Flock. “If there is a healer in the world that can repair her, she needs to get there. Now.”

“Her friend is Twilight Sparkle.”

Flock raised a nonexistent eyebrow. “The Least-Alicorn? From what I’ve heard she’s bookish and incompetent. And purple, which is a hideous color for a pony.”

“Trust me,” muttered Sweetie Drops. “It is.”

“Maybe,” said Daring Do, “but she’ll be able to find a healer. Dash- -”

“No,” said Rainbow Dash.

“Dash, you have to listen- -”

“NO.”

“But you- -”

Rainbow Dash looked at Flock. “How long do I have?”

“As long as the dial is attached to you, probably a week.”

“And is this going to take a week?”

“At the rate you’re going? No. It will take much, much shorter.”

Rainbow Dash turned to Daring Do. “Then I still have time.”

“But you’re poisoned, I have to get you to a doctor- -”

“But so are you!”

“Like I said before- -”

“Before? Wait, how long was I out?”

“You were clinically dead for about eight seconds,” said Flock nonchalantly.

“What? Wait, does this technote thing make me a zombie?” She gasped. “Am I a zombie?”

“No.”

“Dash, you’re not listening- -”

“No, because I’m thinking! If we turn back, Caballeron gets the lead!”

“We don’t even know if Caballeron’s figured out the map yet!”

Rainbow Dash raised an eyebrow. “Come on, Daring Do! I’ve read EVERY one of your books, and my weight- -and Twilight’s weight- -in fanfiction! Caballeron ALWAYS gets there at the same time as you! Or first! For all we know, he’s already scratching his rump on the Hand of Doom while we’re wasting time here!”

Daring Do frowned, not wanting to admit that Rainbow Dash was right. She had a gut feeling that somehow, Caballeron was already on his way- -and that this mission would already be close. “Your safety is more important- -”

“Than the fate of Equestria? Of the entire UNIVERSE? No. It’s NOT.” She started walking into the thick underbrush, helping untangle White as she passed. “Besides. You can’t stop me. I’m faster than you all. And I’m pretty sure this tip’ncanoe gives me superpowers.”

“That’s not how it works,” snapped Flock. “And don’t touch it, you’ll probably explode!”

“Good to know!” said Rainbow Dash, waving as she disappeared into the brush.

Daring Do sighed and turned to the others.

“We’re not going to change her mind,” said Sweetie Drops. “Believe me. I once saw her nap in the middle of the road for three days straight because she refused to move. That one apple-granny ran a cart over her and she didn’t even budge. She’s stubborn as a mule.”

“I’ve known a LOT of mules. Not one of them seems to compare to her,” muttered Daring Do. “I mean, she doesn’t even have a working heart and she’s still getting ahead of us…”

“So, what, then?” asked Sweetie Drops.

Daring Do sighed and looked up at the sky. “We can’t fly. Those things are turrets. They’re designed to shoot things down but for some reason they don’t seem to mind if we’re just walking.”

“Why do you think that is?”

“I don’t know,” said Daring Do, although she did not like it. “But probably because this path was meant for Exmoori. And I don’t think they had wings.”

“They didn’t,” said Flock.

“So we go on hoof,” said Sweetie Drops, sheathing her sword. “White. On me. Help me go find Pretty-Dash.”

“STOP CALLING ME THAT!” yelled a voice from not too far ahead.

“…and there she is,” said Sweetie Drops, taking White with her. White stopped to stare back at Daring Do, and then give a bow. Daring Do did not know why White did that, but it seemed to convey respect, and a different emotion that could not be placed.

Daring Do eventually followed them, walking alongside Flock. When the others were ahead enough, she turned to the wizard.

“You can’t use magic without that dial, can you?”

“It’s not magic,” he said. “You wouldn’t understand. But in essence, no. Simple magical parlor tricks. Moving my birds, making light…things a feeble earth-pony magician can figure out given time and enough red elixir. But nothing substantial, no.”

“And you gave that up to save her life.”

“Not out of empathy,” protested Flock. “I do not have the capacity for it. It was because you asked me. I cannot lose a mission-critical resource, even if she’s just meant to be dart-fodder.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me,” he said. He pushed away a nearby stalk of something that looked like a thorny cabbage. Below it, Daring Do spied a warped hoof-print. One that did not belong to any of them. “I may still get to taste her wings yet.”
 

Chapter 47: The Competition Arrives

Space distorted, and the portal opened under Carillon’s will. The force was immense, and the portal reacted profoundly with the heavily charged atmosphere. Magical lightning swirled and struck low, sallow plants and jagged rocks alike.

Ponies stepped through. Caballeron was made to go first, with the silver-armored pony sometimes called Absence at his side. Behind them came Argiopé, who had taken the form of what was meant to be a highly alluring yak. Zel came with her, and he came alone. Brass Knuckles was recovering, but her head injury had proven too severe for her to continue. She had forfeited her portion of the pay in exchange for a lengthy recovery surrounded by baby goats. This left Zel alone, and his gaze was hard- -even though he stood to make an immense sum should they prove successful.

The other Questlord Pegasi followed with Rogue and Withers, and Carillon and her robotic drones followed in the rear. Her horn was glowing nearly white-hot with energy to maintain the portal, and as soon as she stepped through, it snapped shut with a tremendous implosion.

Caballeron shuddered and shivered against the cold. He looked around. A seemingly misplaced forest stood before him, as well as its vines and creepers that stretched out across an ice plane. High above, he witnessed ponderous mountains, their height so tall that what little gray sky could be seen overhead almost looked as though it were viewed form the bottom of a deep hole.

Those were the mountains of Hyperborea. They bore no names and according to legend they also knew no height- -nor did the valleys and ravines that accompanied them know any finite depth. None had ever climbed them, neither pony nor goat nor any living thing. No artifacts lay buried or hidden in those mountains; there were no hermits, shrines, or residents, save for perhaps unspeakable monsters that no pony had ever before witnessed. Yet somehow Caballeron doubted that.

“Welcome to Hyperborea,” said Carillon, almost viciously. “If you had any thought of escape, abandon it now. Without my portals, you won’t make it two hundred feet into those wastes. Let alone the ten thousand miles to the nearest yak settlement.”

“That certainly assuages my fear,” said Zel, sarcastically. “Yet it seems strange that it is not so cold here.”

“Consider yourself lucky,” shrugged Carillon.

Caballeron turned and yelled over the wind. “Are you sure they are here? How can you possibly know?”

“Because I am not a fool. And because I’ve been doing YOUR job.” Caballeron could not see beneath her mask, but he could feel her smile. “Now. Lead us. Because if there are traps, I expect you to be worth the money we were at one time going to pay you.”

Caballeron muttered under his breath and started forward. Argiopé followed him closely, her elegant coat nearly dragging along the ground. Her coat, as well as the jingling jewelry she wore, were all beautiful- -and all made of modified changeling flesh. Caballeron had spent a significant effort feeding her, and he suspected that Carillon had ordered her sons and daughters to do the same. Somehow that thought made him irrationally furious.

“You,” he said, turning to the Pegasus beside him. “I expect you to defend me. Without my abilities, we’ll never make it to the Hand of Doom.”

“I am duty-bound to protect you,” said the Pegasus, nearly snapping. “But don’t misunderstand your role. If we need to, we will burn this entire area and tear the Hand from the ashes. Your purpose is less to solve traps than to trigger them.”

“Really,” sneered Caballeron. “And what’s your purpose? Oh, don’t tell me. You’re expendable.”

“I am,” admitted the Pegasus. “But I am not interchangeable. My purpose is already defined. And I will serve it. It is the reason why I was constructed in the first place.”

Caballeron shivered, and not from the cold. He recalled Carillon’s front legs gleaming in the dark, legs stripped of their marrow and flesh for some obscene and incomprehensible ritual. Limbs that had held him tight and close as he had screamed mentally. Limbs that had humiliated him, and that continued to do so. He hated her, and he hated the Pegasi she had given birth to.

“Zel?” he said, turning.

“There is nothing analyze,” he said, stoically. “But this forest is not something I recognize. For years I have dwelt in the brush/ but never have I seen a land quite so lush.”

“Keep your eyes open, then.”

Zel smiled weakly. “When do you suppose/ I would ever let them close?”

Caballeron just nodded, and he stayed close to Argiopé as they entered the forest. He lead, and the others came behind him. For a moment, he felt as though he really was in charge, in the role he was meant for. Except that he was too smart to believe that. While he had been made the vanguard, he knew better than to think he was in command. He was still a puppet, and still trapped.

Carillon followed them, taking up the rear.

As she entered the forest, the world suddenly seemed to explode. Caballeron cried out in surprise, and Argiopé lunged for his legs, assuming the form of some heavy armored thing to protect him. Despite being thrown to the ground, Caballeron could still see the ring of fire: a vast swath of trees uprooted and torn to splinters on either side of them, burned to a crisp as they were vaporized.

Carillon looked down as the ground carbonized and liquefied beneath her, revealing a ring of strange metal inlaid to the stone. The ring had been covered in roots, but now Caballeron saw it glowing with white-hot force, and he could feel its magic grinding through his skull and into the center of his brain, exactly where a horn would have been had he been unfortunate enough to have been born a unicorn.

The explosive force concentrated on Carillon and detonated with the force of a bomb. Caballeron was momentarily blinded and covered himself as dirt and fragments of wood were thrown over him. The light was simply too dazzling, and he was sure from the deafening sound that nothing could have survived the blast.

The explosion dazed him, and the world momentarily seemed to grow quiet. It sounded like he was deep under water, with the only treble noise being a high ringing. He heard voices and shouting, and he tried to pull himself back together.

“Doctor! DOCTOR!”

Caballeron sat up and grasped something that looked like an enormous beetle but that had gravely concerned blue-green eyes. In a flash, the beetle became a unicorn. “Please! Are you injured?”

“Get off me,” he groaned, shoving her.

“Well ‘thank you Argiopé too,’” she said, pushing him back angrily. “Don’t stand. The blast may have injured you. Wait until one of the Pegasi- -”

“Don’t tell me what to do.” Caballeron stood. He looked out across the now fully visible ring, seeing the dull reflections of complex text carved into it and strange inlays of bizarre alloys. For just a moment, he believed that one of the main features of his current problems had been eliminated.

Except that Carillon was still standing. She had been knocked back several meters, but she was still alive. Caballeron stared almost in horror, wondering what kind of a monstrosity could have survived a magical blast that strong.

Carillon’s horn was still lit with orange light, and her body was covered in a translucent orange shield. It had been shattered in places, and the runes carved into her armor were still glowing red-hot and smoking.

“Mother!” cried the lead Pegasus.

“I am fine,” snapped Carillon in return. She dropped the magical armor and flexed. Her armor had been torn away in parts, but as Caballeron watched it was already starting to regenerate. “Any other pony except a Questlord would not be. Perhaps any other pony apart from me. That defensive spell was meant to destroy whole armies. I see the Exmoori were well-prepared for thieves.” Caballeron felt her eye turn to him. “And some of our help is somewhat bad at translating.”

“Believe me, I was not aware,” said Caballeron.

“So you are incompetent rather than a traitor. How reassuring.”

“Mother, the spell- -”

“Defends against magical incursion. Consider yourself lucky I did not try to open the portal any closer. Although I’m sure the result would have been…impressive.”

“I got through just fine,” said Argiopé.

“Because you are not a unicorn. The defensive perimeter was most likely not created with changelings in mind, or any sort of weak magic.” Carillon retracted her helmet and stared at her eldest daughter. “I cannot pass through. Not now. It will take me time to cut my way through. Time you do not have to wait.”

The Pegasus bowed. “Your orders, beloved mother?”

“Reach the Hand of Doom. Secure it. I will be there as soon as I can. Use any means necessary.” Her one orange eye turned slowly to Caballeron. “As for you. Perhaps this will not matter. Perhaps there is no nobility left in your greed-saturated heart. But you will be acting on more than orders, and for more than pay.”

“Really,” said Caballeron, sarcastically. “And what other motivations are there?”

“Heroism, I suppose.” Her expression remained stony. “Your friend has allied herself with an incredibly evil being. If he reaches the Hand of Doom, he will claim it for the one he serves, and the results to Equestria will be devastating. Remember that the Questlords exist to secure the safety and good of Equestria. I cannot protect the Hand myself. So you must.”

“Platitudes. I cannot buy things with platitudes.”

“But you may be able to take comfort that you are for once in your life on the side of good.”

“Good and evil don’t concern me. Only pay.”

“And you will be paid. Once I have the Hand of Doom, I will be sure not to abandon you in Hyperborea.”
Caballeron felt a hoof on his shoulder. It was armored in silver.

“It’s time to go.”

“Of course.” Caballeron bowed before Carillon mockingly. “And I bid you adios, Dona Questlord.”

“Don’t fail. Or you will regret it.”

Caballeron smiled, turning away. He was already attempting to formulate a plan. He did not know that Carillon already knew, and the she was planning as well.

As the two groups departed, Rogue approached Argiopé.

“Arg,” he said, nearly whispering as he pushed away some brush from in front of her.

“Rogue,” she replied, reasonably coolly.

“Thoughts?”

“On what?”

“Her.” Rogue pointed back at where Carillon was no longer visible through the undergrowth. “Or is her brain sealed up like the others?”

“No,” said Argiopé, darkly. “She’s quite easy to read.”

“So? Come on, Arg. What’s in there?”

Argiopé grimaced. “I can sense a pony’s love. Replicate their lover. Their friend. Their mother, father, whatever I need to. Just from what’s in their mind.”

“So?” asked Rogue, impatiently. “What’s in hers?”

Argiopé looked up at him. “Nothing,” she said. “Her mind does not have a drop of love. Not for anything at all in the whole world.” She paused. “I don’t know what she is. But I’m afraid of her.”

“Yeah,” said Rogue. “I got the same feeling, even if I’m just a dirt-horse.” He put his hoof on her shoulder. “Stay close. It’s going to be okay. If we lose you, the boss’ll never let me live it down.”

Argiopé smiled, but only weakly. “Of course. And when we have the Hand, maybe we can finally go home. Perhaps we can even retire.”

“Yeah.” Rogue did not smile, and his eyes did not gleam at the thought. “When we get home…sure…”
 

Chapter 48: The Rabid Horde

Daring Do jumped, turning on her heels. The sound echoed through the forest. It was distant, but came from all directions. Far away she saw a flash, and black smoke slowly began to rise.

“What was that?” asked Rainbow Dash, calling from the front of the pack. “And, before anypony asks, it wasn’t me!”

“It wasn’t good whatever it was,” said Sweetie Drops. White, beside her, nodded vigorously. “But my guess is it was at least forty miles out.

“Whatever it was, it almost made this stupid amulet strangle me!” cried Rainbow Dash.

“It is not ‘stupid’!” snapped Sweetie Drops. “That is a sacred artifact! Where you even managed to get one- -”

Daring Do turned to Flock. “It was magic.”

“Yes,” he said. His expression was grim. “I felt it.”

“So did I. We need to keep moving.”

“Agreed.”

They did so, with increased haste. The jungle was thick but not impassible. Flock was both the slowest and fastest of them; in his unwieldy unicorn form, he could barely walk over the rough, rocky terrain or roots growing from sludgy ponds that marred any semblance of a path. As birds, though, he could move swiftly. For some reason, the well-hidden turrets did not target him as crows. Still, it was apparent that without his dial the change was difficult and painful. So he generally remained as a pony.

White and Sweetie Drops moved swiftly and barely disturbed the underbrush as they marched. Daring Do supposed that it was from training, and both were frighteningly stealthy. The two of them also seemed to be growing increasingly aware of a sensation that Daring Do had felt since they had first risen from below the jungle: that they were being watched.

The only one of them who seemed unaware and had no skill at traversing a jungle at all was Rainbow Dash. Despite this, she was leading the group, charging forward with unusual speed- -despite having no functional internal organs- -by brute force alone. Daring Do once again found herself impressed, although at the same time concerned.

They crested a hill and came to a small ravine. Sweetie Drops and White slid down easily, but Daring Do was- -despite being in impeccable physical condition- -not nearly as agile as a vedmak-girl or a cloned assassin. She moved more slowly, picking her way along and using her wings for support as needed. She could hear Flock behind her, gibbering curse words to himself in some unintelligible clicking language.

When Daring Do reached the bottom, she immediately knew that something was wrong. The others were not continuing. They were standing, staring at something. Upon hearing Darning Do approach, Rainbow Dash- -still in the front, as always- -looked up. Her eyes were wide and her skin was pale.

“What is it?”

“L…look.”

Daring Do did. At first, all she saw was a set of tall mushrooms of a pale, sickly looking sort that was no doubt poisonous. The stalks were higher than she was tall, which was by no means unusual; giant fungi could be found throughout Equestria.

Then she saw what they were connected to. Lying below the long, narrow caps and beneath a pile of mycelium was a body.

“Sweet Celestia,” swore Daring Do. She turned away for a moment, but knew that avoidance was no way to deal with something like this. She took a breath and knelt down.

“I don’t like this,” said Sweetie Drops. “What the heck happened?”

“I don’t know,” said Daring Do. She craned her neck. “I don’t see a mark on him…” She leaned a little bit closer. The body was clearly quite inert, and badly compromised by the mold. Fungus had overgrown him, and seemed to be growing WITHIN him- -and fruiting out of what was left. His mold-covered eyes stared up, glassy and unseeing.

“He was a zebra,” she said. “At least…I think.”

“You think?”

“See there?” she pointed. “You can still see the stripes. But…the legs are too long. And the bones are all over the place. And then there’s this…” She picked up a stick and pushed open his mouth. Rainbow Dash gasped upon seeing that his mouth, rather than being filled with normal equine teeth, was filled with a combination of cottony mold and long, sharp fangs. “But from the look of it,” continued Daring Do, “he was old. Really old.”

“His age isn’t what’s making my flesh crawl,” said Sweetie Drops.

“Then what is? The fungus, or what he was doing here in the first place?”

“Both.”

“Maybe he was another explorer,” suggested Rainbow Dash. “If he came here for the Hand, and something got him- -”

“But how would he even get here?” demanded Sweetie Drops. “And look. No equipment. Not even a jacket.”

“We don’t know that for sure,” said Daring Do. She reached out a hoof. “It’s hard to see under all this mycelium…”

“NO!” shrieked Flock. “DON’T TOUCH IT!”

The others turned. Flock had just made his way down the hill, and was now staring wide eyed. His grotesque, semi-pony form made his abject terror seem all the more poignant. He was breathing hard, and when the other ponies moved and he could see the fungus, he took several shaking steps back. “Those fools,” he whispered. “Why, why would they do this? It’s not meant to be released- -it can’t- -get away from it! NOW!”

“You know,” said Daring Do, standing up. “You know what this is- -”

“It’s called whiteshade- -Sword-Horse, the head! Remove the head! NOW!”

“What the- -did you actually just call me- -my sword is for MONSTERS for Celestia’s butt’s sake- -”

She was interrupted by a sudden cry. All of the ponies jumped as they realized that it was none of them, and as it occurred to them that this land was entirly silent. There were no sounds of animals, and no sounds of birds- -save for something that sounded curiously similar to one calling just behind them.

They turned to see the mold-ensnared zebra, his neck raised at a horrifying angle. His mouth was opened wider than any equine’s should have been able to, and fungal rhizomes lolled out as he cried. Then, suddenly, he stood up, revealing that he was a zebra- -or once had been. His legs were far too long and thin, and bore bony cloven claws in the place of hooves. Still shrieking, he ran off with surprising agility.

“But- -but he wasn’t breathing!” cried Daring Do. “There wasn’t a pulse, at least I don’t think- -”

“We have to move,” said Flock. He held out a hoof and his light appeared. It immediately flew off through the brush. “I locked it on the coordinates- -but you’re all on your own now. Whatever you do, don’t let them touch you, or the whiteshade will take you too. Bye.”

His body detonated into a plume of terrified crows. They swooped and swirled, rising up into the trees. The turrets activated, seeming to materialize out of the forest itself, but they did not fire. They were had been constructed to deal with ponies, not birds.

Sweetie Drops’s ears suddenly pricked. “Paint leaves on me and buck me like an apple tree,” she swore. In a flash, her sword was drawn. “They’re coming.”

“Who’s coming?” cried Rainbow Dash. Although she could feel it too.

And they came. They emerged from the brush without slowing- -and without a single sound. They were- -or had been- -something like zebras. Perhaps. They did not make any effort to hide, and for a brief moment time seemed to slow. Daring Do could see them perfectly. Their spindly, anorexic forms; their skeletons asymmetrical and distorted; their skin and eyes covered in thick mold that burrowed beneath their barely-striped coats. Worse by far, though, were the fact that they came with lolling, open mouths that dripped with foam and spores.

“MOVE!” she cried.

Rainbow Dash immediately did- -by taking flight.

“No, not that way! DASH!”

Rainbow Dash flew upward. The turrets immediately locked onto her- -and every pony on the ground. They opened fire.

Sweetie Drops let go of her sword and tackled White to the ground, rolling her into a thin, swampy creek. White grabbed the silver sword as it fell and clumsily deflected one dart heading toward Sweetie Drops’s back. Daring Do and Rainbow Dash were both filled with needles. As annoying as it was, neither of them were affected; Daring Do was resistant, and Rainbow Dash was protected by a shield that formed from the dial imbedded in her chest.

Suddenly Daring Do understood. The turrets had not just targeted them, but the infected zebras as well. The first of the group fell, stumbling as the poisoned darts hit them. Their hearts had stopped long ago, though, and while they slowed and stumbled the poison did not stop them. Daring Do realized it was not meant to. They were the reason the turrets did not shoot things near the ground.

“This way!” she cried, gesturing toward the direction that the light-sphere had gone.

“I KNOW!” cried Sweetie Drops, standing and slapping the nearest fungus-zebra in the face with the flat of her sword, breaking several of his long, hypodermic fangs in the process. He seemed not to care.

They ran. Rainbow Dash dropped to the side, the dial in her chest ticking wildly.

“Zebras! Cannibal zebras! What did I tell you?! HA!”

“We have bigger issues right now!” snapped Daring Do.

Something warm and slightly heavy landed on her back, and she felt talons dig into her wings.

“Indeed,” said a distorted but still familiar voice. “One of you doesn’t seem to know which end of her vedmak sword is sharp.”

“You gosh-darn mother-hugging wizard I KNOW WHICH END IS SHARP!” cried Sweetie Drops. “It’s for MONSTERS! And they’re still PONIES!”

“Zebras,” corrected the crow. “And no. Not anymore. They do not have the capacity for rational thought. Sanity is one of the first things the whiteshade takes, as it invades the nervous system. Slowly.”

“You know what it is!” cried Daring Do, twisting as she rolled down an embankment. The bird leapt off her and another flew beside her as she continued to run. “You KNEW!”

“In general, yes. The whiteshade is a parasite. Used to create expendable slaves. But whoever built the city below us greatly improved its breeding. These aren’t new infected. They are the descendants of the ones created in that city. I suppose the whiteshade has become some sort of…symbiont.” He paused. “And I suppose it recruits new bloodlines from trespassers.”

“Recruited?!” cried Rainbow Dash. “I’m not getting recruited! I’m too young and awesome to be all moldy and stuff!”

“Well then DUCK!” screamed Sweetie Drops.

Rainbow Dash did, and a mutated zebra leapt over her. It landed gracefully and whirled, opening its mouth. Rainbow Dash tried to dodge but slipped on the damp foliage. She fell backward, and held up a hoof to defend herself.

White responded in an instant. She leapt over Rainbow Dash and braced herself, then rammed her foreleg into the creature’s mouth. It bit down hard, but could not break her titanium bones. The teeth, however, did puncture her armor- -and her skin.

“WHITE!”

Sweetie Drops slid past her and raised her sword. This time she did not use the flat. She passed under the zebra’s high belly and cut. The wound was shallow, and it did not bleed. Mycelium puffed out at her, looking like a ridiculous parody of a plush animal that had just been sliced. Then the mold pulled the edges of the wound back together, healing the injury. The monstrosity had not even seemed to notice.

White jumped back, grimacing in pain. The wound was not deep, but white mycelium was already sprouting from it.

“White, hold on!” cried Daring Do, rushing to her side.

“It’s too late for her,” said Flock. “I’d go for the head before it makes her rabid too.”

White’s face contorted, and she stretched out her infected hoof. The white of the mycelium suddenly grayed, and it twitched wildly- -until it blackened and collapsed away from her.

“…unless the Questlords gave her unnatural resistance to disease,” hypothesized Flock.

Now confident in her immunity, White tackled the zebra creature. It squeaked wildly and struggled against her, tearing at her armor with a combination of teeth, cloven hooves, and tendrils that were not analogous to anything that a normal zebra would have. White held on, though, until Sweetie Drops could stand.

Sweetie Drops raised her sword, only to be forced into a block as more of the mutants arrived. The impetus from the impact turned her, allowing her to strike- -but all she managed to do was cut a large mushroom cap off a small zebra mare. She looked more insulted than hurt.

“We can’t outrun them! Looks like we have to fight!”

“I can’t!” cried Rainbow Dash. She danced wildly, dodging several impacts. “How am I supposed to punch something I’m not allowed to punch?!”

“Don’t!” said Daring Do, unfurling her whip and snapping what remained of it at the zebras. They barely recoiled. She doubted they could either hear it or see it.

“Easy for you to say, you have a whi- -EEP!”

“DASH!”

One of the zebras had leapt toward Rainbow Dash. She turned to dodge, but before she could the dial in her chest clicked and turned violently. A sphere of translucent yellow energy formed around her, and the zebra landed against it with a confused thud. Up in a tree, Daring Do saw Flock sitting, his hoof surrounded with a complex rune-circle of similarly colored light.

“Wait,” said Rainbow Dash. “Force field- -Daring Do! Here!” She ran toward the older Pegasus. “I need you to buck me! HARD!”

Daring Do blushed. “Wh- -what?!”

“Like in ‘Ark’!”

Daring Do suddenly realized what Rainbow Dash meant. She turned and kicked hard, just as Rainbow Dash leapt toward her. The sphere did not activate- -apparently it did not consider Daring Do a danger- -but Daring Do kicked anyway, feeling her hooves impact incredibly well-muscled ponyflesh.

Rainbow Dash rebounded with incredibly force, folding her body as she went. As she barreled into the zebras, her shield ignited, forming a perfect sphere, and she rolled through them, pushing them back in a long swath. When they fell, they had trouble getting back up.

“Their balance!” cried Daring Do. “The fungus does something to their balance! Push them over!”

“Pushing quadrupeds over? That’s almost a town sport in Ponyville!” Sweetie Drops struck a zebra in the leg with the wide part of her sword, and then White pushed her, causing her to fall. “Except these are a lot harder than cows. DASH! Amulet! NOW!”

Rainbow Dash- -who had stopped rolling- -pulled the amulet off her neck and threw it. Sweetie Drops caught it and put it around her neck. Then she dropped to her knees and made a strange sign with her hooves. A small explosion formed around her, hurling back several attacking mutants, including one that White was doing her best to bite. They fell, but the exertion had nearly drained Sweetie Drops. She fell to a knee, breathing hard, and then picked up her sword once more.

Daring Do moved to help, but a group charged her. She dodged, rolling and dampening her fall with her wings. Her whip snapped, this time furling around her hoof. She then rammed it into a zebra’s face, sending her back a single step.

“Do they not feel pain?! What even are they?!”

“Your future if you don’t get out of here,” noted Flock, his crow still perched on Daring Do’s back. The mutants seemed to prefer to ignore it. “It’s not much farther. You can make it. You have to.”

“You could help, you know!”

“Not without the dial. If I help, you must be prepared to sacrifice the rainbow-horse.”

“Nopony’s getting SACRAFICED!” Daring Do slammed her whip-covered hoof into a zebra’s nose. It recoiled, and another leapt forward, charging its long, gnarled teeth toward her free hoof.

Daring Do muttered a quick rhyming spell. Swooping lines of light appeared just over her hoof. Covering it up to her wrist was the best she could do, and even that was straining her ability with zebric spells- -but it was enough. The infected zebra bit down, and then recoiled as it found that its teeth were unable to breach the magical barrier.

The barrier collapsed almost instantly, but by then the zebra- -and several others- -had leapt back. Their expressions were still largely blank, but now instead of having a dull cast of rage, they showed confusion instead- -and grave surprise. A bird-like call went out between them, and was amplified by the weaker of the group who patrolled the perimeter for stragglers. Then, all at once, the zebras that could still stand retreated, joining their comrades and slowly circling. Those that had fallen stopped struggling and laid perfectly still, the only visible motion being the slow but still perceptible growth of fungal caps from their backs and sides.

Daring Do backed against her comrades.

“What did you do?” said Sweetie Drops. She was sweating badly and barely able to stand. Using the amulet for magic had been effective but strained her badly.

“I think- -I think they can recognize the spell.”

“Impossible. They’re brainless,” replied Flock. “Now. While they’re distracted. Attack. Destroy. End their cursed existences. Do it while you can.”

“Shut it!” snapped Daring Do.

“What other spells do you know? Please tell me something that makes fire!”

“Don’t you have one for that?”

“If I use that sign I won’t be getting up again. I’m saving it for a last resort.”

Daring Do looked down at her hoof. She did not have the same limitation as Sweetie Drops, but she was still limited. Not in terms of cost, but in terms of abilities.

“I only know a few spells. Mysticism, mostly- -dispelling magic, warding danger, healing wounds- -”

“That one might be adequate,” said Flock. “The whiteshade is a pathogen. Attempting to heal them would be harmful. Perhaps fatal.”

“But…they recognized the spell.” Daring Do watched them shambling in a tight circle, never blinking and never taking their eyes off the captives. “That means there’s something still in there…they can still think.”

“No. The whiteshade thinks for them. And it only craves warm bodies to infest. Heal them. Hurt them. It’s the only way you will survive this. Make them pay.”

Daring Do stepped forward. She knew the set of couplets. Nearly a sonnet. A beautiful one, told to her by a beautiful stallion. But it was weak. Not even powerful enough to heal a bone- -but Flock was right. It was her only weapon. The mutants circled, watching. They felt no pain. Sweetie Drops was handicapped by her sensitivity to their disease, and White was handicapped by her inability to swing a sword properly. Rainbow Dash could not touch them either, and Flock could not engage without his dial. There was no other choice.

As she separated from the others, the circle suddenly parted. A figure emerged from the brush, silently and without so much as rustling a single leaf. Daring Do stared in awe and horror. She was like the others- -or might have been, once. Now she had grown old, but not aged like the weaker ones covered in mushrooms. Instead, she had grown larger, taller, and mutated to a state so hideous that she barely resembled anything like a pony. Her entire body was covered in fungus, but it came in strange forms: not just mushrooms, but thick, glowing tendrils, or mycelium that had hardened into thick plates that almost formed a mask and armor over her body.

The giant stepped forward, and then stopped. She had no eyes, only mold-filled sockets, but they stared at Daring Do- -and she extended one gaunt, infected hoof. Daring Do did not recoil or show weakness, but felt herself gasp as she saw the air around the appendage flicker and spark. Dark, corrupted symbols formed around it, but although they were strange and broken, Daring Do recognized them.

The overgrown zebra held out her hoof, holding it still and unshaking. The striped symbols slowly revolved, waiting, spitting off sparks from a damaged, incomplete spell that had been built perhaps only out of instinct.

“Now is your only chance,” whispered crow-Flock into Daring Do’s ear. “She is the leader. Clear the way for us. I have to get to the Hand. Before the others do.”

Daring Do gulped. Her mouth and throat were dry. She reached out a hoof and muttered a spell. Weak light erupted over her own hoof.

“What are you doing?” demanded Flock. “That isn’t a zebric healing spell. That’s the WRONG SPELL. You fool! You TRAITOR! I TRUSTED YOU- -”

Daring Do ignored him, having decided that it was the best thing to do after all. She reached out and grasped the zebra’s hoof. Their spells merged, and she felt her soft skin touch soft, downy mildew.

The world suddenly fell silent. Daring Do realized that her eyes had been closed. She opened them, only to find herself standing in the dark. She looked down. White mold was slowly growing up her front right leg.

“Listen, and take heed,” said a powerful and ageless voice. “For what you have done is no simple deed.”

Daring Do looked up. She was not alone in the dark, but what she saw was not so much a being as a reflection in her own mind, transmitted through the spell that joined her to the speaker of the rhyming couplet.

Her appearance resolved. The shape of a zebra mare, but not just any. Dressed in drab clothing, wearing a mask unlike any that any modern zebra would have recognized. A white one. One that appeared almost to be of flesh, as did her clothing. Daring Do looked down, and realized that her leg was clad in the same white.

Two pairs of red painted eyes looked up at her, and a pair of luminescent yellow eyes between them. The eyes of the shaman.

“The thing that you think of as a simple bird,” continued the shaman, “do not misunderstand our muteness, as not a word went unheard.”

“Was he right? If I had used the healing spell…would it have hurt you?”

The shaman paused, although it was clear that she had no need to. The answer was already known and had been formulated into rhyme. “Is it something you wonder still?/ Whether healing can truly hurt those who are deathly ill?”

“I can still use it. Not to hurt you! I can heal you! I can help!”

The shaman laughed softly. Something else laughed, and the eyes on the mask blinked horribly. Her clothing ruffled, and Daring Do understood. It was not clothing, nor was it part of her, but a creature that embraced her who chose to be embraced. “Dear generous child, let me put you at ease/ although we are infected, this condition is no disease.”

“I don’t understand.”

A different voice spoke. One who did not speak in words, although that was what Daring Do interpreted it as. The voice was deep and strange, but spoke with the same calm authority that the female shaman did.

“Our ancestors were brought to this place. Long ago.”

The area around them shifted, the darkness evolving into images. Daring Do felt pain, and saw the world constricting, blurred by corrupted memories carried throughout the millennia in a being that had no semblance of a brain, transmitted from mother to daughter and father to son for endless generations.

It was tight. There were screams. Weeping. Mad blubbering as it dug deeper. Through the shadows she saw the tubes, and the wires. And she saw them. Their bodies had been reduced to little more than shadows, dark things that wandered just outside visual range. They almost looked like ponies, but they were too flat and moved to quickly to be anything other than insects. The only parts of them that came through clearly were the circular, luminescent devices they wore: the smaller ones wore them in the center of their chests, and the larger wore theirs on their left shoulders.

“Through millennia, centuries, years and days,” said the zebra, solemnly, “somehow and always, this memory stays…”

“There was pain,” agreed the other voice. “Although we did not understand at the time. The things we felt were new. We could not understand. But we were not the same.”

Images shifted by. Daring Do saw something that looked like a blueprint or an x-ray, showing the mutated, infected bones of a failed subject, annotated in an odd script, one that consisted of perfectly aligned square geometric characters.

“But they left.”

The images of the scientists vanished, and the zebra nodded, her mask staring on solemnly. “Who knows why they came to this place, or what they started…/Or if they managed to accomplish any semblance of it before they departed.”

“They experimented on you,” said Daring Do. “The ones who built that city. They were trying to make a new whiteshade. But why?”

“I know not for what need/ or if they truly did succeed.”

“But then where did they go?”

“We don’t know,” said the deep voice with just a hint of longing- -and relief. “We were left alone. But more came.”

The image changed. This time, clearer images stepped forward from the shadows. They took the form of ponies, and although they were blurred, Daring Do did not recognize what sort of ponies they were. Only that they were almost half her height.

“They had no interest in the old experiments. And they did not fear us.”

“They released us, and bade us strive/ to continue throughout our distorted lives. That forever would this be our land/so long as we stood by as guardians of the Hand.”

“The Exmoori.”

“We know not,” said the deep voice. “Only that they were noble and proud. And immune, as are the white ones. The white ones that slay our forest now. As immune to us as you are not.”

“I know them,” said Daring Do. “And I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t understand. It’s my fault- -”

The zebra raised her hoof, clad in white lace more delicate than anything that could be sewn by any pony. “Child, do not shed a single tear. / Here in the white-light, there is neither hatred nor fear. The Immune Ones gave us life, death, and new birth/ so that we might permit passage to those of greatest worth.”

“And those that come with fire and weapons are not worthy,” added the deep voice, the voice of the whiteshade- -or an echo of deeper, mad consciousness from the zebra herself. “But you are.”

“No,” said Daring Do. “I attacked you. I hurt you, and I didn’t know- -”

“We feel no pain. Only hunger. But for you we suppress it. For you we allow passage.”

“But…why?”

The zebra smiled beneath her mask. “Because instead of trying to bring about our end, you came here with hoof extended as a friend.”

The darkness began to fade. Through it, Daring Do became able to see the leaves of strange trees, and beneath the shade of the beautiful zebra the hideous appearance of her true form. Still, she spoke one last poem.

“He who watches, borne on silver wings/ so long ago, he prophesized the end of things. The cycle will be complete/but the end is never so neat. Go, and claim the Hand/ and bring about the death of this land. And when the ice comes and erases both sight and sound/ you will find us yet again, having returned and claimed our final home far beneath the frozen ground.”

Daring Do cried out. There was a pain in her hoof. She looked down to see long tendrils be being pulled away from her, leaving a series of tiny, evenly-spaced holes that had swollen and grown red- -but that were not covered in white growth.

The mutant shaman took a step back, and stared back with empty eyes. Then she received into the trees, and the others, watching- -or perhaps part of the whole, all a single, linked zebra- -retreated back as well, and in an instant were gone.

All was silent. Then, finally, that peaceful silence was completely destroyed. As anticipated, the bringer of its end was none other than Rainbow Dash.

“Ho. Ly. BUCK!” she cried, nearly squealing. “What- -what did you just do?! You made them go away, just like THAT? How- -what did you- -was it some sort of ancient spell? Some sort of secrete technique or- -”

“No,” said Daring Do. She turned and smiled weakly. “No. None of that. I just talked to her.”

“Her?” said Sweetie Drops. “That thing was a ‘her’?”

“You made a mistake,” said Flocks’ crow as the others materialized around it, forming a black unicorn in a waistcoat. “You should have ended it then and there.”

“I did,” said Daring Do, glaring at him. “You don’t need to worry. Not every problem needs violence or fighting. Sometimes, just sometimes, you can have a reasonable conversation and end it in a way where nopony gets hurt.”

Caballeron covered his face. The heat was intense, and he feared for his eyebrows. Not only that, but it was a hard thing to watch.

The robots had taken up a triangular perimeter. They proceeded forward, marching without hesitation or pause. Some unknown system within them had been triggered by their masters’ will, and from the front of them shot liquid flame. Everything the flame touched ignited, screamed, withered and blackened to piles of ash. The robots did not care. They simply did as they were told.

The jungle receded in flame, and Caballeron was led through. The white Questlords let him onward, ignoring the flames completely. The light flickered off the silver of their armor, the heat reflecting harmlessly. In the glow and with their serrated swords drawn, they looked like a force of demons.

Figures moved in the fire, but did not approach. Through the smoke, Caballeron could not see them clearly, nor did he want to. They might have been ponies once, but they were not any longer. They were horrible monstrosities, and he found himself wishing that they would burn in the flames along with the horrid jungle where they lived. For their own sake as well as his.

The pony who led them stood beside him, marching and keeping him marching quickly through the swath of ash they were cutting. Her armor had no clear eyes, yet Caballeron could nearly sense the red reflection of her albino pupils. It was impassive and without expression.

“Don’t you think this is a little much?” he asked.

“No.” She replied quickly and without emotion. “I will do whatever is necessary. They are in my way. As is this jungle. Do not question me. Or my mother. The Hand of Doom will be ours. For the good of Equestria.”

Caballeron stared at her, and he was afraid. He felt his hatred for her waver, and wondered what role fate meant to have him play if his part was not that of the victor. More importantly, though, he wondered what the Hand actually meant to a pony who could do nothing but follow the orders of others- -and in that respect, for the first time in a long time, he was not thinking about himself.
 

Chapter 49: Plateau Tower

It arose from the center of the jungle: a stone plateau, the remnants of one of countless unnamed mountains which had been mutilated by time and the passing of endless glaciers long ago. It was as wide as a city and extended upward in a concave, sheer cliff on all sides for several hundred meters.

At first, this was a dismaying puzzle. Flight was the obvious solution, but Daring Do knew that in this case the obvious solution would be the most catastrophic. She could not see turrets or defenses, but knew they were there, hidden by the trees- -trees that served just as much as a defense as the zebra mutants and machines that lay within them.

Her second thought was that there might be a way to climb using the foliage of the jungle. Walking around the edge, it was apparent that vines had grown up the stone in several places. Over the thousands of years- -perhaps tens of thousands- -that they had grown, their trunks had grown massive and hoary. In many cases, though, the dripping thorns of the vines betrayed poison, or the mouths on the epiphytes that accompanied them forecasted painful bites. Daring Do would have risked either, but she was unsure if the vines even went all the way to the top.

The group pondered this for some time. Rainbow Dash continually recommended flight, while Sweetie Drops suggested that a climb up the sheer surface might be possible- -or possibly deadly. Flock did not provide any input, as he had already reverted to a murder of crows and ascended to the top. It seemed that as the practicality of his one major power grew, its mystique had lessened greatly and grown quite annoying.

Of the four remaining, though, it was White who found the solution. While the others discussed, she- -being unable to discuss, as her vocal cords had been severed- -scouted forward, moving swiftly around the base of the mountainous plateau. Just as the argument between Sweetie Drops and Rainbow Dash had started to grow heated and as the latter threatened to bite the former, White reappeared, smiling.

“You found something?” asked Daring Do.

Indeed, she had. White led them about a mile around the edge of the mountain. The rocky terrain made it difficult to move that far, but none of them questioned her. Then, suddenly, she stopped and stared upward. Daring Do stared at well, and at first saw nothing.

Then her eyes caught a slight glimmer. The shine of a single drop of water as it descended in a straight line, dropping onto the leaves below that had grown up toward it. Following the course of the drop, Daring Do saw what looked from her angle like a deeply cut but mostly dry stream bed. As she looked closer, though, she saw that it was in fact a narrow path, spiraling upward.

Daring Do laughed and clapped White on the back. White, being both very light and not expecting it, was nearly knocked over.

“Point for White! Ha, at this rate I should try working on a team more often!”

The three Pegasi reached the edge with ease, and Daring Do was pleased to find that it was wider than it had looked from below- -but only marginally. Sweetie Drops took a bit longer. By the time she had climbed to the top, she was pale and weak.

“Here,” she said, removing the amulet she had borrowed and giving it to Rainbow Dash. “I can’t…Celestia’s unshorn fetlocks, I can’t carry this thing.”

“Um…okay?” Rainbow Dash took it. “It weights, like, an ounce. Which I guess is heavy for a necklace, but- -”

“It’s not a necklace and the weight doesn’t matter. It’s the magic. It’s draining.”

Rainbow Dash put the necklace on. “I don’t feel anything.”

“Because you have no idea what it is, let alone how to use it.”

“Well…if you taught me those cool spells…”

“You’d put yourself into a coma trying to blast a basket across the floor. I can only get away with it because I’m an earth pony.”

Rainbow Dash sighed. The amulet fell against the dial implanted in her chest and jumped wildly as if recoiling. “Fiiiine…”

They began the slow march up the hill. It was not an easy path. At points it narrowed, and at others it vanished completely, requiring the ponies to leap over expanses. The only one who it was a real threat for was Sweetie Drops, but every time Daring Do jumped she could almost feel the enchanted eyes of turrets turning toward her, wondering if it was time to shoot again. Granted, the darts could not poision her- -but she was not sure that every turret contained just darts.

Rainbow Dash caught up to her easily. By the time Daring Do was out of breath, Rainbow Dash had only seemed to warm up. Part of it might have been the machine that had taken control of her vital functions, but Daring Do felt a tinge of jealousy, remembering the way it had been in Flock’s phase-word. Where she had been the strong one out of the two. The thought only persisted for a moment, though, before she forced it and the shame that accompanied it out of her mind.

“Hey,” said Rainbow Dash.

“Is there something you need?”

“I just wanted to know how you did that cool magic stuff. You know, with your hooves.”

“It’s a simple spell. It’s not that impressive.”

“But you’re not a unicorn! Unless…” Rainbow Dash gasped. “Unless you ARE!”

Daring Do stared at her, not sure if she was joking. She ran her hoof through her graying mane, sowing the fact that her forehead did not in fact contain a horn. “Just a Pegasus.”

“Well, then…maybe your mother was a unicorn?”

Daring Do winced, and so did Rainbow Dash, realizing she had mentioned something she was not supposed to. “Maybe. I don’t know. I never got to meet her.”

“I’m sorry. I’m stupid, aren’t I?”

“No, just blunt. Which isn’t a bad thing.”

“Then…”

Daring Do sighed. “You don’t need to be a unicorn to do magic. Not little magic at least. All ponies have some magic. I believe the Tirac incident should have proved that well enough.”

“Did he get you too?”

“He got everpony. Except maybe Flock, who apparently didn’t care.”

“I don’t think he’s a pony anyway,” whispered Rainbow Dash.

Daring Do looked up. A crow was staring back at them with jaundiced eyes. “Not anymore. Not for a long time, I think.”

“But then how did you do the spell?” interrupted Rainbow Dash, unable to contain her excitement any longer. “Come on, I have to know?”

“It’s zebric.”

Rainbow Dash appeared confused. “Where did you learn zebra-spells?”

Daring Do blushed slightly. “You’ve read ‘Daring Do and the Heart of Stripedness’?”

Rainbow Dash grinned. “Only seventeen times! It’s my eighty-sixth favorite!”

“And you remember the part with the zebra mareservant Zavenport- -”

“Who actually turned out to be the shaman Zularael, keeper of the ancient Mask of Recalcitrance!”

Daring Do chuckled and blushed slightly more. “Yeah. He was the one who taught me.”

Rainbow Dash once again looked confused. “But that part wasn’t in the book…”

“There are a lot of things Zularael taught me that didn’t make it into the final book.”

Rainbow Dash stared at her, and then suddenly darkened to the shade of an especially ripe apple. “Daring Do- -that night on the Jagged Mountain- -you didn’t- -”

“Let me give you some advice, Dash. Advice I’d give to a daughter, if I had one. I might even tell White when she gets a little older. There is no stallion like a zebra stallion. If you get the chance, take it. And don’t let him go.”

Rainbow Dash blushed even harder. “But- -but- -Celestia DARN IT, why do Quibble’s fanfictions keep being RIGHT?!”

White suddenly appeared beside them. She put one hoof on Daring Do’s shoulder and pointed with the other. Daring Do looked to where she was pointing, and felt her spirits fall. They had just turned the mountain so that the forest was visible before them- -and a vast swath of ash led by endless flame before it.

“They’re burning the forest,” said Daring Do.

“Who?”

“Caballeron.”

Rainbow Dash’s eyes went wide. “But- -how? There’s no way he could have found us! The map- -there’s no way- -”

“He found a way,” sighed Daring Do. “He always does. The mutants said that he was on his way. They’ll do their best to slow him down, but they can’t hold him off forever. We need to hurry.”

“Caballeron’s an earth pony,” said Sweetie Drops, walking up behind them. “How good is he at rock climbing?”

“He was a champion athlete in university. He can climb.”

“Well, I was raised by warrior-priests. And I couldn’t climb this rock without this path. So…”

Sweetie Drops landed a thunderous earth-pony kick on the path. The stone cracked and crumbled, causing a chain reaction through the fracture that had been made by centuries of a slow trickle of water seeping by. Several meters fell away, and it continued until the bottom of the path was no longer even visible due to the turn of the pass.

“There.”

“You know there’s no way for us to get back now, right?” snapped Rainbow Dash.

“Yeah. I know.”

Daring Do sighed. “It’ll only slow him down. He has the others. The white Questlords. And they’re probably wearing armor.”

“Probably. But I’d bet my tail that they didn’t share any. If they fly, the darts take Caballeron out. And if I know Caballeron, the way to get to the Hand is completely and entirely in his head. They won’t risk losing him. Not unless they absolutely have to.” Sweetie Drops pushed past Daring Do. “And if that happens, then I’ve solved both our problems.”

Chapter 50: Temple Guardians

The burning land had grown closer by the time Daring Do reached the top of the plateau. Daring Do was unsurprised to see that whatever remained on the plateau had long-since been reduced to ruins. What did surprise her, though, was the ruins themselves.

Which was not to say that they were unique, at least in the feeling the gave her. The dull tingle on the back of her neck, the sudden surge of excitement that accompanied the sudden intake of breath at the surprise. It never got old to her, the feeling that came when she laid eyes on something built long ago by ancients that had remained hidden and unseen for countless centuries. Those were moments she lived for- -and the moments that were only the midpoint of her adventure.

The ruins themselves were quite old and covered in a thin, damp snow. The air up here was cooler, but not enough to keep the snow from melting. That had simultaneously preserved the ruins from freezing over completely like those of Lyskymm, but at the same time had produced water that had slowly eroded them.

The engineers- -or engineer- -who had built this place seemed to take account of that. The ground consisted of what appeared to be enormous, stone tiles. For the most part they were square, but paths had been built into them to serve as drains: thin channels that moved almost organically as they interrupted simple but geometrically perfect patterns.

Farther from them stood the remains of columns and perhaps buildings, things that were impossibly old. Daring Do paused to inspect them, only to feel herself shiver. They had an aspect that was rare in ancient temples, but one she had doubtless seen before, if only on a much lesser scale. The structures, though broken by time and water, were made perfectly of blocks- -blocks that were at their smallest the size of a pony. There was no logical way that an ancient culture could have moved them, let alone assembled them- -or even quarried perfectly cut, unblemished stone from the ground.

“Oh if only Dulcimer could see this…These are Exmoori ruins,” she said, almost whispering. “The first ever discovered. “

“And perhaps the last,” added Flock, who had been waiting patiently at the top. “Celestia scoured Equestria with surprising attention. But the sun no longer rises in Hyperborea. Her influence is weak here.”

“So this is it?” said Sweetie Drops. “I think we might be a little late.”

“No,” said Flock. “This is a readout. An old fort. Or a temple. The Exmoori probably constructed it well over forty thousand years ago, and then abandoned it.”

“But they came back,” said Daring Do, recalling what the whiteshade zebra had said.

“So it seems.”

“But why here?”

Flock shrugged. “Perhaps the infrastructure underground. Or because this place is defensible. Or maybe because it was the last place they could remember from when their race had any power in this world.”

“Do you think there are traps?” asked Rainbow Dash. The other ponies and Flock turned to look at her disapprovingly. “What?”

“There are always traps,” said Daring Do. “Always.”

“Well they had better be good ones,” muttered Rainbow Dash, annoyed at having been rebuked for her foolish question.

“I doubt it,” sighed Flock, walking across the open courtyard of carved rivers and geometric stone. “The Exmoori were a race of warriors. I don’t know if they had the intelligence for traps.”

At that instance Flock triggered the trap. Daring Do put her hoof to her face. She knew exactly what happened when a pony said something like that.

The rivers in their carved channels suddenly ignited with shimmering incandescence. A trail of light spread out, stretching from the stone that Flock had touched and running backward, far into the distance, where fog and clouds obscured a more massive structure. Several of the geometric patterns in the stone below ignited with light: circles of stone, each of them sixty feet wide.

The whole of the plateau began to tremble as the stones fell away, retracting by unseen mechanisms as intricate as they were massive. Daring Do counted the holes she could. There were at least ten.

“They’re really big,” suggested Rainbow Dash. “But maybe we can, you know, just walk around them.”

“The holes aren’t the trap,” sighed Daring Do. “I think I know where this is going.”

Daring Do hated being right. In exact unison, hooves rose from the holes. For a moment Daring Do felt a slight confusion, as though she were looking at an optical illusion, as if perhaps the stones of the plateau’s ancient court had been assembled in a way to produce forced perspective. As if the holes were not as big as they seemed. Except they were not that lucky. Daring Do was never that lucky. Her brain processed the illusion and realized that it was not one. The hooves that had come through did not belong to ponies. They were vastly larger.

The golems pulled themselves up in unison, making the ground rumble as they did. They were enormous, and although they were not the largest that Daring Do had ever seen, they did seem to be the most advanced. Their bodies included prodigious amounts of prerequisite stone, carved and placed around their bodies in plates of unyielding armor. These, however, also included metal, seen through the cracks in their armor: both additional plating, as well as mechanisms relying on gears and cogs instead of enchantments.

Each golem had a single onyx eye in the center of its forehead. Their faces did not consist of anything more than that; there had been no artistry in their design, no flair provided by a proud mage. These were built to serve a purpose, and a mundane one at that.

“Golems,” sighed Sweetie Drops, drawing her sword. “I HATE golems. And stupid elementals. They take FOREVER to break.”

“I don’t think THEM getting broken is your biggest concern,” said Flock.

The first of the golems shuddered as its internal mechanisms ground together, and then suddenly linked. The joints between its armor ignited with phosphorescent light. Then it spoke in a booming voice.

“VORTOG. NELAG. SESXTENDESH.”

The echo died, and the plateau became silent.

“What did it say?” whispered Rainbow Dash.

“I don’t know,” hissed Daring Do, trying to run through the possible languages in her head. “I don’t recognize the language- -”

“It’s spoken Exmoori,” said Flock. “It asked for orders.”

“You speak Exmoori?”

“Only barely.”

“Well if asked for orders,” said Sweetie Drops, still not lowering her vedmak sword. “Answer it.”

“With what?”

“Tell it to stand down.”

Flock nodded, and then stepped forward. The stones glowed, tracking him where he moved, although this was probably unnecessary. The goldems’ synthetic eyes never left him- -or any of them.

“Calenach!” he cried in return.

The eye turned toward him, and the mechanisms that surrounded it turned. Daring Do could almost feel its gaze moving between them- -and stopping at Rainbow Dash’s chest.

“DEL,” cried the golem. “MORLACH FANAG.”

It charged. Daring Do did not know how it moved so quickly, or what even was powering it- -let alone what it made of. Not that any of it mattered. It was fast, strong, and heavy, and when a ten-food wide hoof came down on the group she grabbed Rainbow Dash and rolled, barely avoiding being flattened.

White and Sweetie Drops both flew back as well, with Sweetie Drops striking at the hoof with her magical sword. It sliced deeply, far more deeply than any normal sword- -except perhaps for the blades of the Questlords themselves- -could have cut. Yet the wound did not even penetrate the golem’s armor.

“BUCK!” cried Sweetie Drops, leaping into an acrobatic sideways dodge as the golem moved its hoof sideways. Flock was struck in the process, and he burst into a plume of crows.

The golem did not pay attention to the crows, or to Sweetie Drops and White. Instead its attention stayed purely on Rainbow Dash, and the dial in her chest. It charged again, and Rainbow Dash took flight. There were no turrets on the upper level, and the golem was too slow to catch her.

What she did not see, though, was the gargoyles that had been placed on the tops of the ancient ruins. They had been configured to blend in, as if they were almost meant to be part of the structures. That was until their single onyx eyes turned to Rainbow Dash, though, and until their mottled wings separated. They leapt forth, flying through the air in hot pursuit.

The larger golem count now focus its attention on Daring Do and the others. It rushed forward, and the internal lights of a second ignited. And a third. Their booming voices filled the emptiness, and Daring Do knew that this time they were not waiting for a response.

“We can’t fight these!” said Sweetie Drops, rolling out of the way of another impact.

“Yes we can!”

“We’d need an entire army!”

Daring Do smiled and reached into her coat. She removed a bag from her pocket and tore away the string binding it closed with her teeth. It rattled as she did so, as it was full of the dragons teeth that had before landed in her mane and coat when Caballeron had dropped them on her. It was not the first time his lack of foresight had proved a benefit, and Daring Do hoped that it would not be the last.

She threw the bag. The teeth spilled out and clattered to the ground. On impact with the stone, they ignited with magic and the germinating process began. Even through the stone, they drew up the elements of the earth, forming bodies and armor- -and arising with strange, ancient weapons from those who the golems had ended here long ago.

The dragon’s-tooth warriors looked around, confused as to their existence and whom exactly they were meant to serve. They did not need to wait long for an answer.

Daring Do charged forward and struck a pose. “FOR THE GLORY OF THE DRAGONLORD! CHARGE!”

The warriors roared in response, suddenly charged with conviction and purpose- -and the desire to smite their genera’s enemies. They did as they were told and rushed into battle.

The golems were immediately confused. They did not seem to comprehend how so many soldiers had appeared from nowhere, and they paused for a moment. Enormous gears inside them shifted with loud clanks, changing their fundamental program.

By then, the dragon’s tooth warriors had already reached the first golem. They struck at it and tore into its armor, but realizing that doing so was ineffective they began to climb. Before the golem had finished adjusting is program, the warriors had gotten into its armor and were tearing away at internal cogs.

“NOW!” said Daring Do. “MOVE!”

She ran forward through the fray, as did Sweetie Drops. White took to the air, and although her flying ability was limited, she did her best to assist Rainbow Dash.

The program-cogs inside the gargoyle golems were less advanced but lighter. They shifted easily, and a formation broke off from the rest. They descended past White and into the mass of tooth warriors. They tore at them with their stone-plated wings and smashed them, but the dragon’s teeth simply rebuilt the bodies they inhabited and continued. Many gargoyles were lost in the attack.

The rest followed Rainbow Dash, who outpaced them easily. Although the golems did not tire and did not need to worry about g-forces from intense maneuvers, they were still far heavier than a Pegasus. What Rainbow Dash could accomplish, though, was limited- -until she spied the supports of the ruins. She turned sharply, leading the gargoyles into the columns. They followed, and it was already too late. Rainbow Dash suddenly retracted her wings and fell through a slit between two rock structures. The golems were too heavy to do the same, and entered with their wings open, sheering them off in the process.

“HA!” cried Rainbow Dash, opening her wings and slowing. “Take- -”

She was interrupted as one of the gargoyles slashed past her, extending its talons. They tore through Rainbow Dash’s coat, and while she dodged fast enough to save her softer innards, the force of doing so knocked her out of pattern. She began to spiral, and before she could correct another gargoyle was back.

White descended from overhead and landed on his back. With a silent cry, she jammed the blade of a pocket knife under the creature’s onyx eye. The gargoyle golem struggled and protested, screaming words at her in Exmoori. She did not hesitate, and wrenched the blade forward, tearing out the black sphere.

The gargoyle’s flight was disrupted, but White managed to at least turn it so that it was able to fly in a long arc- -directly into the head of one of the larger golems. It hit with a tremendous explosion, and the golem took a step back, revealing the fact that part of its own eye had been badly damaged by the impact.

“HA!” cried Rainbow Dash. “TAKE THAT!”

The golem looked up at her. Then it moved.

They all did, charging against the army. Their program had been reconfigured and they attacked with exacting precision. One of the golems slammed its hoof into the army of enchanted soldiers, and the force shattered their bodies against the stone- -and broke the teeth that they contained. Their magical fire went out and they were no more, even as their comrades crawled onto the hoof and began to overtake the golem.

“We don’t have enough!” called Sweetie Drops.

Daring Do knew that she was right. She had gotten at most twenty dragon teeth, and she had just three of them. The army she had remaining was far too small.

“Daring Do!” cried Rainbow Dash from overhead. “The eyes! Aim for the EYES!”

Daring Do looked up at the nearest golem, the one with the broken eye. And she understood.

“ARCHERS!” she cried.

Her soldiers obeyed. They leapt back and drew bows, notching arrows of earth and rusted steel.

“LOOSE!”

Arrows whistled through the air. They struck the nearest golems. Most of the rods were turned with little effect, but several pounded into the onyx spheres in the center of the golems’ heads. The one whose eye had already been cracked lost its eye completely as it shattered, falling in pieces of black semi-precious gem and trailing wires behind it.

This was beneficial, but only partially so. The golem could no longer see, but its program compensated. By causing it to frenzy. It thrashed out in every direction with wild precision, destroying everything it touched. This included one other golem, which was damaged and pushed back into one of the underground silos it had come from. Daring Do could not help but think that it was confused, although she doubted any golems were advanced enough to even understand the concept.

Four golems had been lost, and one was partially incapacitated, but that still left five, as well as whatever gargoyles were remaining. One of them attacked its incapacitated comrade, shattering it and destroying much of what was left of the dragon’s tooth forces that were at the time inside it.

“FLOCK!” cried Daring Do. “If you’re going to do something, do it NOW!”

As if on command, the crows swooped downward and swarmed the nearest golem. Its eye twitched, turning in confusion, as if it did not understand the threat it was facing- -or perhaps it just did not know how to deal with birds.

Its program began to change, but by that time the large gear began to turn, the crows had already gotten into its internal mechanisms.

The golem suddenly slumped but did not fall. Daring Do sighed with relief, thinking that Flock had damaged it from inside- -until its body once again ignited with light and it stood.

“Flock, what did you- -”

The golem charged. Daring Do covered her head, and Sweetie Drops threw herself over her, raising her sword in a block to defend them both. Not that it would have done much good- -and not that it needed to. The golem bypassed them and instead charged toward the oncoming others, slamming one of its hooves into the eye of one of its identical siblings.

Crows rushed out of it and reassembled into Flock. “We don’t have much time,” he said.

“What did you do?”

“I reconfigured its programming, but I don’t know how long it will hold! I had to strip a core regulator gear, so- -”

“Don’t care MOVE!” cried Sweetie Drops, shoving Flock forward. “WINGS! NOW! Both of you!”

Daring Do spread her wings, and Flock generated a pair, momentarily assuming the form of a black alicorn.

“Sweetie Drops!”

“I’m right behind you! I’ll cover the- -STOP!”

It had been apparent that Sweetie Drops did not intend to make it all the way. There was no way she could run that far. Rainbow Dash had understood this, and so had White. They descended at the same time and grasped her by the rear legs.

“Not a chance, Bon Bon!” shouted Rainbow Dash. “Ponyville loyalty!”

Some of the last of the gargoyles charged. Sweetie Drops cried out and drew her sword, putting both Rainbow Dash and White off balance.

“Stop moving!” cried Rainbow Dash.

“Stop interfering!” Sweetie Drops raised her sword and slashed across the gargoyle’s face, slicing the front of its body in half into a plume of gears and wires. “Either drop me or fly harder!”

Rainbow Dash did not drop her, but flying harder was not really an option. White was doing admirably but had not been trained to carry weight; as her wings beat faster and faster, her altitude began to decrease.

“There!” cried Daring Do. In the distance, a squat building had manifested from the fog: wide, but large, seeming to rise directly from the stone below as a rectangular shell. A simple opening led outward and to the courtyard of the golems.

The distance was not short, and the golems were gaining. The one Flock had reprogrammed had destroyed itself, as well as two others. Of the remaining two, only one was capable of walking- -and it was gaining.

Daring Do took a breath, and descended, pulling her wings back against her body. With the lack of drag, she accelerated. Behind her, Rainbow Dash did the same, as did White, holding Sweetie Drops below herself as ballast. They were young enough that this might even be standard flying for them, but Daring Do was old, and knew that at her age this was going to hurt.

She slammed against the stone ground and bounced, turning as she did. The wind was knocked out of her, but she did not allow herself to be dazed. Instead, she landed on her hooves and skidded across the smooth stone. Rainbow Dash did the same, now with Flock clinging to her side. White landed with Sweetie Drops against the ground and skidded across on top of her as though she were a sled.

All of them skidded into the entry way. Just as they did, the hoof came down. Parts of the entryway collapsed, nearly squashing White and Sweetie Drops and catching Rainbow Dash in the tail. Rainbow Dash’s shield bubble activated, and with a cry she was shot forward into the opposing wall.

The hoof remained for a moment, and then retracted. For a moment there was nothing, and then an enormous onyx eye moved in front of the door. Several arrows protruded from it, and it swam in its socket, staring blankly at every angle.

“No you don’t!” said Sweetie Drops. She leapt up and with one slash cut through a support column. The already damaged entryway collapsed, blocking the golem’s view. For a moment there was silent, and then a thundering sound- -but a sound that moved away from them. Apparently, the last golem had given up.

“Oh wow, that was close,” sighed Rainbow Dash, dropping onto the floor. “Wow this is intense. Cool but really tiring.”

“And that’s not even the first part,” chuckled Daring Do.

“Clearly.” Sweetie Drops brushed herself off, and then lifted her sword, turning it and lightly tapping the pommel onto White’s head. White winced and probably tried to swear, although no words came from her. “Warn me if you’re going to do something like that next time! And unless you’re a teal unicorn, don’t ride my back! I’m not a sled! If I hadn’t been an earth-pony, my bones would be as broke as Trixie the magician!”

White responded with a rude gesture, one that actually made Daring Do gasp. Sweetie Drops, though, apparently found it hilarious.

“Yes, yes, touching,” growled Flock, “but you just closed off our only exit.”

“So?” said Rainbow Dash. She poked at the thing in her chest, and Flock swatted away her hoof before she could damage it. “We still have this dingus.”

“It’s not a ‘dingus’- -”

“She’s right,” said Daring Do. “We can jump whenever we need to. Go back to your castle.”

“It’s not a castle,” harrumphed Flock. He seemed to puff up, and the feathers inside his coat became visible. “I still don’t like it! Don’t point things out to me!”

He continued to bristle, but walked off into the hallway, where his sphere was already waiting for him.

“Right,” said Daring Do. “We’re in. Now we just need to find the Hand.”

“And when we do?” asked Rainbow Dash.

“I take it back to Equestria. To the Royal Archeological Institute headquarters in Canterlot.”

Rainbow Dash’s eyes widened. “But you hate the institute!”

“I don’t hate them. They hate me. And true, they’re a bunch of pompous, paper-pushing windbags who have never once seen a tomb like this one. But they’ll know how to keep an artifact like this safe. And study it.”

“Why not give it to Flock, though?”

Daring Do did not answer. She instead proceeded forward after Flock. Sweetie Drops watched her go, her sword still drawn. White looked back at her, confused, but with an expression that Sweetie Drops was not sure if was knowing or not.

Not that it mattered. Sweetie Drops sheathed the blade, knowing that she would need to draw it at least one more time by the end of this mission. Even to do something she very much did not want to do.
 

Chapter 51: Labyrinth

The two cities could not have looked more different. Both were made of stone; one carved, and one assembled. Yet the city below had the air of abandonment, of having been an industrial center of harsh angles and strange purposes. The facility above, though, was abandoned, but would never feel that way, if only because it was so bleakly Spartan that it appeared as though nopony had ever lived there in the first place.

The halls were square and evenly assembled from stone block, occasionally interspersed with metal where it needed to be. There was no ornamentation or flair. Even compared to the columns and pillars on the outside, this looked primitive and simple. Yet it was not, and Daring Do knew this, if only on instinct. The builders of the golems on the outside had been the same who had built this cave-like place indoors.

Light was plentiful, coming from evenly-spaced crystals on the walls. Their harsh glow only made the sterile stone walls feel more cold, and Daring Do shivered.

“Okay,” said Rainbow Dash, quietly. “I hate to be the one to say it.”

“Then don’t say it,” snapped Sweetie Drops, who was watching the walls ceaselessly.

“But it’s really freaking me out!”

“Why there aren’t any traps?” asked Daring Do.

“Yeah! I finally get to go on a Daring Do adventure, and the creepy abandoned temple doesn’t even have deathtraps!” She paused. “Except…there’s something else….”

“I know,” said Daring Do. She felt it too. The sense that there were traps. Out there, waiting. And that the Exmoori did not quite seem to be the type of pony who were apt to build puzzles that could be defeated with a little wit and planning.

“Do we have a map?” asked Sweetie Drops, almost sarcastically.

“I do,” said Flock. “I’ve spent about ten times your lifespan staring at that stone. I’ve memorized everything written on it.”

“Really? That long and Daring Do figures it out in, what, five minutes?”

Flock shot her a glance. “I wasn’t JUST staring at a rock. I have a job.”

“Really?”

“Yes. An important one, even if my role was always meant to be…minor.”

White suddenly stopped. The multiple apertures of her eyes narrowed and shifted as she adjusted her perception.

“She sees something,” said Sweetie Drops. “Dang it all to heck, if only she could talk!”

“She doesn’t need to talk,” said Daring Do. “She just needs to see. White, can you lead the way?”

White nodded, and moved to the front of the line. She almost immediately leapt over one large stone block on the floor. The others did the same as well. Daring Do did not know what would happen if she were to touch it, but she did not want to find out. Scarier was that it confirmed her suspicions: the Exmoori traps were well-hidden. Even with all her experience, she could not have told that there was something beneath that block. Not on her own.

The path was largely clear. White moved quickly and without hesitation or apparent fear. When there was a trap, she would point it out, whether it be on the floor, the ceiling, or something in the walls. A few times, though, she stopped to stare, confused for a moment. Daring Do was not sure what this meant, except that perhaps it implied that there were things behind the walls that White could perceive but not identify as traps. Whatever she saw, though, she seemed to be right; if she stopped to stare but then moved on, no trap activated when Daring Do passed it.

Then, at a juncture, she stopped. The area before them had less-dense lights, and two thinner support paths moved off from the sides, each curving downward in their own ways. White stared into the darkness for a moment, and then gestured toward one of the paths. Daring Do moved to follow her, but felt a cold and bony hoof on her shoulder.

“No,” said Flock. “That way will take too long. We’re almost there. We need to go straight.”

White stared at him and hissed loudly. She shook her head vigorously.

Flock growled at her. “YOU will not tell me what to do.”

He turned and walked down the hallway that White had expressly told him not to.

“You idiot!” cried Daring Do, moving to grab him. “DON’T!”

It was too late. When Daring Do reached him, she could already see in the dim light what White had seen. Below two of the lights were two objects that were not present in the other hallways: a pair of onyx spheres.

The walls around the spheres shifted. Two long pieces of thin stone pulled themselves out, the eyes mounted on the fronts. Then the stone rectangles unfolded, their already thin pieces thinning further as they separated into legs, hooves, and heads. It only took a moment for them to fully assemble- -and then their faces turned toward Flock.

“Darn it!” cried Rainbow Dash. “They’re coming out of the stonework!”

The narrow-golems charged. Sweetie Drops lunged past Daring Do and pushed Flock down, drawing her sword as she did so. She struck at one of the golems. Although its body was flat and would be easy to cut, its outer surface was highly angular. It obliquely parried her silver blade, sending it skidding off the stone skin of its front leg. Then, with speed at least equal to Sweetie Drops’s, it punched her in the stomach.

“Bon Bon! Hold on!”

Rainbow Dash leapt forward, but the whole of the room suddenly shifted. What appeared to be stationary stone blocks on the walls and ceilings shifted, moving nearly silently on ancient and unseen bearings. The hallway closed. Daring Do was forced to jump back, and she was sealed away with White. Sweetie Drops and Flock were forced to the front, while Rainbow Dash vanished behind an especially large stone all alone.

“NO!” she cried out, pounding on the stone. “I’m missing the fight! COME ON!”

The stone did not budge. Nor was she able to hear much behind it. It was too thick.

The facility itself had contained her- -or, rather, redirected her. The room she was trapped in was not sealed; behind her, a long hallway had opened up, one that twisted in a wide spiral downward.

“Great,” said Rainbow Dash. “Stairs. Real stupid ones.” She turned back to the block. “Don’t worry, Daring Do! I’m gonna find my way around! I’ll be over there in a flash!”

With that, she flew into the air and rushed down the stairs, having no idea where she was going or if it would be better or worse than where she had been- -and not caring in the slightest.

Chapter 52: Hiding in a Barrel

Unfortunately for Rainbow Dash, the stairway was more stupid than expected. It did not go where she wanted at all. In fact, it just went deeper and deeper into the earth.

During her application to flight school, Rainbow Dash had tested highly in spatial reasoning, but even this place was beginning to test her ability. It was labyrinthine, and she was pretty sure that the stone blocks would occasionally reconfigure themselves when she was not looking, blocking off return paths or turning her in directions that she did not want to go. She could sense that she was probably underground, and that she was getting farther and farther from where she had been before.

Being Rainbow Dash, though, she of course knew how to compensate for the changing environment as well as any hidden traps that were lying in her way. The answer was more speed.

The result was more fun than she could ever have anticipated. Walking in the even stone hallways was boring and eerie, but flying through them at incredible speed amazing. With the walls so close, Rainbow Dash felt as though she were travelling immensely fast even at low speeds, let alone at a full wing-sprint. The sudden turns and occasional appearance of golems only made it more challenging and more interesting. It was like an arcade game, except in real life.

The effect of increased velocity was actually positive. The Exmoori, apparently, had never anticipated that a pony would be fast enough and brave enough- -or reckless and stupid enough- -to fly through their facility at well over one hundred miles per hour. Their machines were fast, but not fast enough. The hallways took too long to reconfigure, and Rainbow Dash was able to overwhelm them. Within a matter of hours, she had outpaced them enough that she had reached hallways that did not reconfigure.

These were different. The stone was more angular and a different color, giving it an impression of long-term inactivity. Occasionally debris could be found lying throughout. Rainbow Dash did not stop to see what it was because she did not think that they were pleasant things.

Then, suddenly, the hallway expanded significantly into a large room. Rainbow Dash blinked, barely able to see in the darkness. On the far side, she was able to perceive a vast array of slowly revolving gears and downward-leading conduits. The area in front of it was wide and flat, and appeared to have been a storage room. What it had been meant to store, though, Rainbow Dash did not know. All of it was either unrecognizable to her or had decayed long since.

The only thing she could accurately recognize was a stack of barrels on one side of the room. They might have once been used to store food, or perhaps chemicals, or even the contents of whatever this machine produced- -although Rainbow Dash doubted that it produced much of anything. Whatever they had once held, though, they were now empty: it had evaporated or decayed long ago, at least in barrels where the lids could be opened. Rainbow Dash had checked, just in case it was jelly or cider.

“Aww, mane,” she sighed, pulling the lid off yet another one and finding it empty. “How am I supposed to maintain muscle tone without food?” Her stomach growled. She had not eaten since Lyskymm. Or, actually, perhaps since Singapone. She also came to the realization that she was talking to herself. “Gosh darn it,” she said, quietly. “I’m turning into Twilight.”

A voice came in response, causing Rainbow Dash to jump wildly. Had her heart still been beating, it might have stopped.

Her first thought was, oddly, that when Twilight spoke to herself she might actually be talking to somepony that nopony could see. Her second thought revolved around “ghosts”. Her third was that somepony was approaching.

The third thought appeared to be correct. Rainbow Dash’s ears resolved hoofsteps. Many hoofsteps. Rainbow Dash did not even need to think; if she was going to take on an entire group of ponies- -or perhaps Exmoori ghosts- -she would need the element of surprise. She immediately jumped into a barrel and closed the lid on top of her, wincing as she did so. Whatever this barrel had once contained, it had certainly not been jelly.

The voices entered the storage room. The barrel had a hole in it, and Rainbow Dash stared through it. Unfortunately, the owners of the voices came from a side hallway that Rainbow Dash was not facing, so she could initially only hear them.

An accented female voice spoke first. “They won’t try to follow us?”

Rainbow Dash was about to leap out and pound the ghosts when she heard the a deep male voice with a different accent reply in response.

“No. The zebra will be distracting them.”

Rainbow Dash gasped. She knew the voice. “Caballeron!”

The room immediately fell silent and Rainbow Dash clapped her hooves over her mouth. The sound of her words, though, had apparently been drowned out by the clanking of gears.

The voices continued.

“And what is our dear stooge going to do?” mocked the female voice. “Seduce them? If they’re not interested in me, they won’t be interested in him.”

“Ha,” said another voice, one that sounded more Bittish and somewhat stupider. “Maybe we can have him read ‘em poems, eh?”

“Rogue,” said Caballeron, “you’re not funny. And I don’t appreciate racism in my organization.”

“Wh- -no- -boss, I didn’t mean nothing by it!” He paused. “Bloody heck, I can’t see a bloody hoof in front of my bloody face! Arg, can you make light?”

“I’m not a torch.”

“No,” said Caballeron, “but under that ravishing exterior you are an insect.”

“Arachnid,” snapped the female. “And fine. Don’t make fun of me, I don’t do this often.”

The room outside suddenly ignited with a strange green light, the glow of some sort of biological phosphorescence.

“Ha!” said Rogue. “Look at that! You’re right ready for a rave, aren’t you?”

“And you can shut your ‘bloody’ hole before I make your hole bloody!”

“Now now,” said Caballeron. “Argiopé, please don’t make a mess.”

Rainbow Dash heard grumbling. She saw the light shift, and then heard the female voice. Now much closer.

“Oh look at that,” she said, kicking the barrel that Rainbow Dash was in. Rainbow Dash immediately froze. She got the impression that the mare was Caballeron’s pet changeling, and if that was the case, she had to dramatically shift her calculations on whether she could take all three of them in a fight or not.

The changeling continued. “An ancient civilization of dwarves and their barrels still have bung holes. Ha! You know, I once knew a stallion who was just obsessed with bung holes. I guess it was his special talent. Ah, that was a fun week.”

The barrel was knocked back as a tongue was violently inserted into the barrel’s hole. It was incredibly long and forked, and it flicked around violently. Rainbow Dash nearly screamed at how gross it was and retracted to the far end of the barrel. The tongue continued to lick, and Rainbow Dash felt her wings beginning to involuntarily extend.

“Argiopé!” chastised Caballeron. “Don’t be vulgar!”

The tongue retracted, and Rainbow Dash heard the sound of lips smacking. She stared through the hole and nearly gasped. The pony outside had rendered as a unicorn with a complex pattern of orange, black, and white. At present, though, all of the white part of her calico pattern had ignited with bioluminescence.

“Huh,” she said, licking her long, sharp teeth. Teeth that had just moments before been inches away from Rainbow Dash’s face. “It tastes…fruity. And a little bit like rainbows. I’ve never licked a bung hole with quite that flavor.”

“How do you know what rainbows taste like?” asked Rogue.

“Because I spent two years working in cloud espionage. Of course I tasted the rainbow vats at least once.” She sighed. “That job paid so well…”

“Then why did you quit?”

The changeling shrugged. “Because you can’t buy love.”

“Tell that to the girls in Singapone, heh heh…”

Nopony laughed. Rainbow Dash did not understand what Rogue meant. She did, however, hear a slap.

“Yeah,” sighed Rogue. “I deserved that one.”

“Now,” said Argiopé. “Can we get to the point? Herr doktor, I’ve noticed you haven’t been verbally abusing me. Or hitting me. Or snuggling with unicorn hags.”

“Argiopé,” said Caballeron, sounding both annoyed and defeated, “I’ve apologized- -”

“Shove it in the bung hole! You’ll have finished apologizing when I say you’ve finished!”

There was another sound of a slap. This time it did not sound like the sound of a hoof hitting a face; if Rainbow Dash were to guess, it was the sound of a hoof on a flank. It was followed by barely controlled giggling, followed by a rapid regaining of composure.

“Fine,” said Argiopé. “I’ll table it. Now tell us why we’re here. You’re thinking, aren’t you?”

There was a long pause. “Yes,” said Caballeron. He came into view. Rainbow Dash watched him. “I have a plan. One where we can make a substantial profit.”

“Do tell.”

Caballeron smiled cruelly. “I have not told the Questlords my exact translation. Nor have I noted down my full understanding of the tablet I have been translating.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning that providing the blood of a child of Exmoor does not just open the door. It unlocks the security system of this entire facility, giving the blood-bearer full control over all operations. Including its security response.”

The changeling smiled. “Oh, doktor! If I could have foals with ponies…”

“Quiet Argiopé, I’m talking.” Caballeron continued. “My intent, you see, is to offer the Spear myself. I will gain control. And then immediately use the security measures to destroy both the Questlords and Daring Do.”

Rainbow Dash gasped, but quietly.

“Boss, I don’t know,” said Rogue, rubbing the back of his head. “I mean, there’s a lot of them. And what they did to that golem- -”

“That one already badly damaged golem? Indeed. But I understand the true capacity of this facility. That right now it is sleeping, dormant. Barely drawing power from the Hand at all!”

“And when we get the Hand?” asked Argiopé. “Do you actually intend to use it?”

Caballeron laughed. “Use it? Dear Argiopé, of course not! At this point I doubt it even has a use! More than likely it is some pointless relic that the Exmoor ponies worshipped for some reason or another. And if it is magic? What do I care. Magic does not produce profit.”

“Then how do we produce profit?”

Caballeron continued to smile at his own brilliance. “We contact Wun Perr-Synt.”

“Boss,” said Rogue, growing pale. “That’s not a good idea. That’s not a good idea at all! She hates us!”

“No, she’s angry, and there’s a difference. I will contact her. Apologize profusely, beg, plead, whatever I have to. I will give her back the Spear of Extinction as a good-will gesture…and then sell her the Hand of Doom.”

“Will she buy that?”

“Will she buy it? Of course she will! I’ve heard her on multiple occasions state that she would give even her very horn for an Exmoori artifact! And while I don’t particularly please being gifted her most precious organ, I would gladly accept a fair sum of cash in lieu.”

“But boss, the portal. We can’t get back- -”

“Trust me, Rogue. If Perr-Synt knows that there is an Exmoori artifact hanging in the balance, she will find a way to open her own. Even if it means enlisting the help of Celestia herself. Or tearing Equestria in half.”

“And you’ll share the profits?” asked Rogue.

Caballeron glared. “You may get a slight bonus if you perform well.”

“That isn’t what I mean.”

“Argiopé doesn’t get paid.”

“I get something that rhymes, though.”

“I mean the zebra,” said Rogue.

Caballeron sighed. “Well, yes. Actually I was meaning to have a meeting about that, later, but I suppose I can at least let you know that I was considering extending him a job offer.”

“Well, diversity in the workforce is always a good thing. I’m for it.”

“I’m not!” cried Argiopé. “I already told you! No zebra maidens!”

“Do you…even know what a maiden is?”

Argiopé blushed, which was bluish in color considering her bioluminescence. “Well, no, if I have to admit. Changelings don’t really…have…gender…”

“Hmm. Well it would have been nice if you had let me know that sixth months ago. Nevertheless, you have nothing to worry about.”

“Because I’m the only pony you’ll ever love?”

“No. Because Zel is male.”

“Oh.”

They started walking again, and Caballeron’s voice began to fade as they left the room. “Fine. I’ll think on it. But don’t let anything we said here leave the room, especially to that one in the thin armor, their leader. If she finds us out, we don’t get paid.”

“Or live,” said Rogue, darkly.

“That too. And if you see Withers, don’t let him know. He’ll find out later. He’s just too talkative, he’ll let it slip for sure.”

They left. When they had, Rainbow Dash kicked the top of the barrel and jumped out, wiping changeling saliva from her body. The room was once again dark, and the voices had faded. Not that it mattered.

“I have to tell Daring Do!” she cried, dashing toward the door from where she had come, hoping that she might find a way back. Before she reached it, though, she stopped. A different thought had occurred to her. “No!” she said, suddenly, turning around. “I have to warn Absence!”

She then took off, speeding in a different direction entirely.
 

Chapter 53: Two Sisters

Sweetie Drops and White did not progress as haphazardly as Rainbow Dash, if only because White was able to see the path ahead of them clearly. Neither of them tired as they pressed forward, and neither spoke. They had grown accustomed to working together.

This time allowed Sweetie Drops to think. The actions she took following White- -sprinting, jumping, dodging, and slashing at anything that might even possibly be a danger- -were all physical actions. They were part of her training, both the portion she had received from the vedmaks when she was a child and the later training that the agency had given her. Her mind seemed to separate, and it thought on its own while her body handled the real work.

What she found herself ruminating on was the nature of the pony beside her. White moved as she did, with conviction and confidence, but Sweetie Drops had heard what Flock had said. That White, like her sisters and brothers, had been generated in a laboratory. She had no real mother, and had no father’s face to remember. Inside her body was more than flesh: metal, plastic, and other things that Sweetie Drops neither wanted to contemplate nor fathom. They had taken her eyes and her voice, and trained her for horrible things- -all within less than a year.

Not that any of it mattered. The world was a simple place in Sweetie Drops’s mind. There was good and evil, and all beings could be subdivided into two even more inviolable categories: ponies, and monsters. White was clearly a pony; therefore, her origin or nature did not really matter. It only mattered what she could do, and who she was loyal to. What she could do was clear and more than adequate, and Sweetie Drops had not questioned her loyalty for some time. It clearly lay with Daring Do.

“LEFT,” she said. White responded instantly, ducking to one side and folding up her left wing. Sweetie Drops rolled through the space and slashed across the surface of a golem just as it was unfolding. The silver clanged against metal and stone, and the golem fell to the floor broken.

They turned another corner, and Sweetie Drops prepared another strike- -until she realized that the residents of this particular corridor were neither golems nor mutants.

They were, in fact, a pair of ponies. One of them was an earth-stallion wearing sunglasses and a coat with a suit-collar. He was lying on top of a Pegasus in power armor. Her hair was worn in a Mohawk, and she was kissing him vigorously.

The pair looked up as Sweetie Drops and White skidded to a stop. Every party present blushed heartily, and Sweetie Drops nearly turned away in embarrassment- -until the mare looked up with eyes nearly identical to White’s, and her numerous pupils narrowed into thin vertical slits.

The mare pushed the stallion off and drew a sword. It was made of dark red metal and serrated, like the sword of the Questlord before. Instead of hefting it in an attack, though, she threw it away and glared angrily at White. Their mechanical eyes met.

“SISTER!”

The Questlord leapt forward, and Sweetie Drops pirouetted. “No you don’t!” she cried, preparing to slice through the pony’s power armor and drop her with ease.

Suddenly something caught her eye, and she was forced to change her motion. Instead of swinging at the white Pegasus, she wrenched her sword forward to block something that had been thrown by the stallion. The object struck the sword and was about to be deflected- -but then exploded on contact with the silver.

Sweetie Drops cried out as she was knocked back. She had been rendered partially dazzled, and her vision was filled with dark spots from the blast of light that the explosive had generated. Wiping her eyes with her sleeve, she saw the stallion walking slowly toward her.

“You’re an earth-pony,” he said, calmly.

“Last time I checked.”

“Good.”

Sweetie Drops pointed her sword at him. “Am I going to have to beat you?”

The stallion stared at her and removed his sunglasses. Beneath them, his eyes were bright red. “I am not an egg.”

He leapt forward. Sweetie Drops was surprised, but found his quaint stupidity almost endearing.

The Pegasi met in midair. White, being smaller and weaker, was immediately pushed to the ground. Her elder sister had a chance to punch her in the face, but did not. As sisters, they both felt an extreme aversion to injuring one another, at least directly. The resulting conflict, therefore, involved no blows, but rather more closely resembled wrestling in the style of ancient Pegasi. Except that in this case, neither of them were naked and greased.

“Don’t fight me, little sister- -oof!”

The Mohawk Pegasus had been pushed to the ground. White moved to put her in a head-lock, but the mare’s leg swept between hers and tilted her over. White flashed her wings into her sister’s face, then bent in half and wrapped her forelegs around the mare’s midsection. She pulled, but was no match against her sister’s power armor. After less than a second, she had been forced face-down onto the ground with one hoof held behind her back.

“I know you can’t talk,” whispered the elder Pegasus. “So listen. You’re on the wrong side. You have to get out of here. NOW.”

White struggled. Her shoulder popped, but she felt no pain. This was something she had practiced extensively. With a swift motion, she flipped and pushed her sister’s bracing leg out of the way. The elder Pegasus began to fall, but slipped to the side and wrapped a hoof around White’s neck, holding her as she struggled.

“I don’t want to hurt you! LISTEN! This is our oldest sister’s big day! You don’t know what that means, they never told you, but I do! Don’t ruin this day for her!”

White continued to struggle. Her sister lifted her and slammed her into the ground, knocking the wind out of her.

“Do you think I don’t understand?” she hissed. “I’m tired of it too! But this is what we made for! It’s my last gift to our sister. As soon as this is over, I’m leaving. I’m going to work for Caballeron. I’m going to have a name, and love, and I’m going to break Mother’s heart. You can go too, but I won’t let you interfere with this! Not this time!”

White hissed and tried to spit in her face, even though, internally, she understood as well. She just hated being told what to do, and less rationally hated the mechanical eyes that were staring back at her. They were her eyes too, and she loathed the sight of them and how ugly they made her.

“Yeah, that’s not going to happen,” said Sweetie Drops.

Both White and the unnamed Pegasus looked up. Sweetie Drops was standing, holding an extremely badly beaten Withers by his mane. Her sword was at his neck. She was uninjured, save for a large bruise spreading on the side of her face as well as a bit of ash clinging to her fur.

“Withers!” cried the Pegasus, standing. Her metal eyes narrowed on Sweetie Drops. “You put him down, right now!”

“Yeah. No.” Sweetie Drops nodded to White. “White. You okay down there?”

White nodded. The unnamed Pegasus stared wide-eyed. “You…you already have a name?” She laughed suddenly. “Then it makes sense. I get it. I get it, little sister. Trust me.” She turned to Sweetie Drops. “Are you going to hurt him?”

“It looks like I already did.”

Withers sighed, and through his swollen lip admitted, “I’m an egg…”

“You know what I mean.”

“I don’t want to. This sword is made for monsters, not ponies. But I need to know if there’s more of you.”

The mare smiled. “Of course there are more.”

“Where?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know. We got separated.”

“So you decided to make out?”

“I was grown in a tank, but I’m still a mare. And come on. He’s pretty hot compared to the rest of the guys Caballeron’s got.”

“I’d agree with that. But this isn’t the place for that.”

“I know.” She gestured to her eyes. “I can see the traps. And mechanisms. This whole place is lit up. I had advanced engineering training and I don’t even know what half this stuff MIGHT be.”

“So it’s not just traps?”

“No. This whole place is some kind of machine. I don’t know what it’s for.” She paused. “But I’m going to give you the same advice I gave my sister. Stay out of this, earth-mare. They aren’t concerned with you. Just let it happen. Leave. Take my sister. Let her be happy.”

“Not without Caballeron.”

The Pegasus sighed. “Fine. Live your life. But please. I’ve told you everything I know. Let Withers go.”

“I’m fine,” protested Withers. “Got her right where I want her. Wow is she ever muscular…”

“You can’t flirt your way out,” sighed the Pegasus. Her synthetic eyes met Sweetie Drops. “Please, earth-mare? Or is your heart that cold?”

“I wish it was,” sighed Sweetie Drops. “I’m not going to hurt him. Additionally, anyway. But I’m going to have to hurt you.”

The mare stepped forward. “If that’s what it takes.” She turned her head to the side, exposing her neck. Withers struggled weakly.

“Not like that,” growled Sweetie Drops, feeling mildly insulted. “I’m going to headbutt you. I know how to do it so you won’t have a hematoma. Then I’ll leave you with this putz. He’s not going to be walking for a few hours at least. You’ll wake up by then.”

The Pegasus straightened her neck. “And my sister?”

“White will be safe with me.”

“Good.” She smiled. “Do it.”

Sweetie Drops lowered her head. An echoing crack filled the room, and the Pegasus fell to the floor unconscious. Withers sniffled, and Sweetie Drops threw him hard onto the floor.

“Dang she has a hard head,” she said, rubbing her own forehead. “White, let’s go. She might get less than an hour with a skull like that.” She kicked Withers hard. “Whoever you are, you sure can pick a mare.”

White shook her head and descended onto her sister. With great difficulty, she lifted her, and reached down her neckline, feeling for something that Sweetie Drops could see. Then she found it, and the armor hissed, separating at various points. The back unfolded, and White struggled to scoop her sister out of the assembly. The pony within was pale, but it was apparent she had been dyed at some point. She seemed so much smaller without the armor.

“Here.” Sweetie Drops sheathed her sword and helped get the Pegasus out. When she was clear, Sweetie Drops let her flop onto Withers, who seemed to graciously accept the weight.

Sweetie Drops peered into the armor. White gestured for her to get in, but Sweetie Drops shook her head. “No way. I have no idea how to drive this thing. Do you have training?”

White paused for a moment, and then nodded. She quickly stripped off her own clothes and slid into the armor. It reacted, closing around her. She stood up, looking much larger than she had before. She lifted and flexed one of her armored hooves.

“Nice,” said Sweetie Drops.

White smiled and nodded, and then reached down and picked up her old armor. She removed the pocket knife from its belt and attached it to a holder in her new armor, and then gave the nonpowered system to Sweetie Drops.

“Ha,” said Sweetie Drops. “Not the first time I had to put on somepony else’s sweaty armor. But it’s better than going nude.”

White nodded and closed the helmet of her armor. She then bounded forward. Sweetie Drops, having attached the main parts of White’s armor to herself, moved as well- -but paused when she saw the red sword lying on the floor where the Mowhawk Pegasus had left it.

She looked at Withers. “You don’t need this,” she said, kicking it over to him. “But give it back to her when she wakes up. I don’t carry steel, because I don’t like what it implies.”

With that she left. Withers took the sword, but did not try to attack her. Sweetie Drops was pleased that he had not made such a mistake, but could not help but feeling like she had made one of her own.
 

Chapter 54: Distrust

Flock seemed to be growing weaker. He did not show it much, but Daring Do had learned to be perceptive to weaknesses of both her allies and her enemies. Whatever sort of injury it was, it did not manifest completely. Flock still walked with his head held high and proudly. Yet there was a look of pain and distance in his already sickly eyes, and his motion was becoming even more jerky and awkward.

“Stop,” she said at last. “You need to rest. You’re sick.”

“I don’t need to rest,” protested Flock. “What I need is to get to the Hand of Doom. You saw the path they’re burning here, doing what we should have done in the first place. With that level of conviction, they’re probably already here.”

Daring Do raised an eyebrow. “You think they already have the Hand of Doom?”

“No,” said Flock, after a moment. “I think we would know that. This whole thing draws power from the Hand. If it were removed, moving would be both far easier and far colder.”

Daring Do sat down and leaned against the cold, smooth stone. “Really. So the Hand powers this place. Why?”

“You had access to the same stone piece I did. Did you not read?”

“Forgive me if I had to take the abridged version.”

Flock sighed. It was a painful, ragged sound. “What they were trying to do was…complicated.”

“We have time.”

“No we don’t.”

“Yes we do.”

Flock growled at her. “Fine. I don’t actually know what their intention was with the Hand. Only that it is heavily integrated into the systems around us.”

“Meaning that all this is the weapon, not the Hand itself.”

“It’s much more than a weapon, stop being a fool. And of course not. You haven’t figured that out yet?”

“Figured what out?”

“That this is all containment.” He gestured to the facility around them. “To keep it from waking up long enough for them to attempt to control it. But they didn’t understand what it is. If they had known, they would never have built this place. No matter how desperate they became.”

“I think they understood. In the end, they understood.”

“By then it was too late.” Flock stared out into the facility. “And it might be too late again.”

“And this is why I work alone.”

Flock turned his head toward her suddenly. His nearly avian eyes glared at her. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m leading you directly to the Hand.”

“And setting off every trap you can on the way.”

Flock’s eyes narrowed. “What are you implying?”

“That you’re trying to sabotage me? That you don’t actually want me to get to the Hand.”

“I could attack you right now and tear the feathers from- -”

“But then you would have nopony to protect you. You can’t attack us when we’re in a group because we’re too strong, and you can’t attack me alone because you’re weak without that dial. Let me guess. Every time you transform, it puts a massive strain on your body, doesn’t it?”

“I’m a living creature. I need rest from time to time. Is that so wrong?”

“Now you’re trying to change the subject. You won’t admit that I’m right.”

“Because if you were, it would be a moot point. We still need to work together anyway. I’m sure you’ve worked with individuals you cannot trust before. You seem like the kind of pony who has that kind of poor taste.”

Daring Do groaned. “Of course. Add an insult, then turn it back on me. Combine that with the endless vague gloominess, and you’re a perfect wizard.”

“I am a wizard. What do you expect?”

“But do you all have to be like this? Every wizard I’ve ever met. Probably even all the way back to Starswirl. Or Clover the Clever.”

Flock’s lip twisted involuntarily at the mention of the second name. Although he did not address it, his reaction confirmed exactly what Daring Do had begun to suspect.

“Starswirl was a charlatan obsessed with licking the boots of his precious false-goddesses,” snapped Flock. “And the other one was a brute completely devoid of vision.”

“How would you know? There’s no way you’re old enough.”

“As long as my crows keep laying eggs, I will persist within their bloodlines. I don’t bother with your petty views of mortality. Something I’m sure you’re quite familiar with, being so close to the grave yourself.”

Daring Do’s eyes narrowed. “Is that a threat?”

“No. I called you old.”

Daring Do stood up. “Fine. You’re rested long enough. Forward.”

Flock stared at her, looking concerned. “But what about the traps?”

“Yeah. I know. You go first. Find them.”

“But I can’t see them without the dial.”

“Yes. Hence why you’re going first.”

Flock glared at him. “I can see the reason nopony ever loved you,” he said, turning sharply.

Daring Do did not bother to comment.

Chapter 55: Child of Exmoor

None of them could have known. Flock might have, if he were smarter, and Daring Do might also have, had she the same information that Flock did. But none of them were able to perceive the whole condition, to understand that the motions of the facility and its guardians were not simply meant to slow or eliminate them. It watched, viewing through many onyx eyes, and it listened, by infinitely delicate systems hidden within the vast network that obscured hundreds of miles of pipes, wires, conduits, and stolen enchantments that linked the facility above to the ancient city below- -and to the Hand of Doom itself.

Nor could the entity watching have understood that she was not the only one listening.

Rainbow Dash did not manage to find Absence. Despite her searching, the hallways did not seem to want to cooperate with her. At times she thought she could feel them, the other group of ponies, moving through in their own path toward the same goal- -but she could never reach them.

Instead, she came to an area where her corridor of choice suddenly ended. The soft echoing of her feathers fluttering in the wind suddenly ceased, and she was left alone in black silence.

Her wings clenched and she skidded to a stop. The floor here was flat and smooth, but covered in a layer of dust- -or ash. The air was cold, and she did not want to try to fly through it. She had an instinctive sensation that something horrible was lurking out there, waiting.

A sound suddenly came from beside her. Rainbow Dash turned to see a Questlord in silver power armor land beside her. She cried out and bucked the girl in the face. The mask deflected the first blow, and she blocked the second. Rainbow Dash turned for another punch, but the mask retracted, revealing a familiar face.

“WHITE!” cried Rainbow Dash. She hugged her. “Don’t sneak up on me unless you want to get beat! LIKE AN EGG!”

“Weirdly, that’s not the first time I’ve heard that expression today,” said Sweetie Drops, appearing behind White and wearing parts of her armor.

“Oh, wow.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“That doesn’t sound like ‘nothing’.”

“Well…it’s just that…it looks different on you than on her.”

“So?”

“So, you kind of have a ‘warrior princess’ thing going on. I mean, that’s pretty cool, I guess, but…”

Sweetie Drops made a rude gesture. Rainbow Dash snorted with suppressed laughter.

White pressed on Rainbow Dash’s shoulder.

“No,” she said, somehow understanding what the mute girl meant. “I haven’t seen her.”

“Seen who?”

The three mares turned to see Daring Do above them, staring down from an opening several meters in the air. She dropped down, using her wings to dampen the flow. Flock followed her, although more awkwardly.

“I see you didn’t lose the dead weight,” muttered Sweetie Drops.

“And I see you dressed up your robot.”

White frowned but largely ignored the insult.

“Neat armor,” said Daring Do. She turned to Rainbow Dash. “You okay, Dash?”

Rainbow Dash nodded. “Yeah. And I saw Caballeron.”

“Did he see you?”

“No. But I heard him talking. He’s going to try to betray the Questlords.”

“So what else is new?”

“But Absence- -”

Daring Do frowned. “Who is Absence?”

Rainbow Dash froze. She did not respond directly. “Never mind,” she said at last. She rotated quickly. “Right now we need to figure out how to get through all this darkness.”

“I say we just follow the crime against nature,” suggested Flock, referring to White.

“You’re one to talk,” snapped Sweetie Drops.

The matter then promptly resolved itself. Enormous crystals mounted on a cavernous ceiling suddenly flickered to life, filling the enormous room with intense but distant white light. Rainbow Dash blinked and covered her eyes, as did Daring Do. Sweetie Drops and Flock squinted. White did not react. The amount she could see had not been changed.

The room before them was enormous, a single cavern, perhaps natural or perhaps excavated by some inconceivable machine. The floor consisted of grates, and the ceiling of stone. Struts and pylons reached to the ceiling, supporting it as well as gigantic conduits that headed upward into the main facility. All around them were vast pieces of equipment laid out symmetrically: banks of slowly-turning gears, pumps, tubes, and magical devices consisting of slowly revolving spheres and monolithic blocks inscribed with glowing runes. The immediate impression was that of a vast industrial cathedral.

Rainbow Dash stared up at it all. “What now?” she asked.

“There’s a path,” said Daring Do, gesturing toward the clear trail in front of them, a wide road beneath the massive machines. “We follow it.”

Rainbow Dash gulped. “Yeah. I thought you’d say that.”

So they walked. They did so until their destination came into view. At the far end of the room, where many paths like the one they walked converged, there sat a door assembled into the wall. It was enormous and armored, and appeared to be made of a metal that none of them could recognize. Just from looking at it, it was apparent that there was no way to enter should the door remain locked. No force could break through, and delicate ancient runes prevented teleportation through it. Nothing could get in- -or out.

A round yard in the court of machines had been assembled before the room, inlaid with cut stones. Many of them consisted of precious gemstones of various sizes and shapes, but they had not been placed for any particular reason or with any attempt to be beautiful in more than a passing sense. They simply appeared to be worthless things that were found incidentally during the construction of Equestria’s most powerful weapon.

What drew they eyes of the group, though, was not the gemstones, but what sat at the base of the raised courtyard. Sitting there amongst seeming random piles of polished stone was a single assembly, a system of machines linked to what appeared to be a single enormous piece of obsidian. As Daring Do approached, she felt her legs grow weak when she realized that the perfectly flat, black surface of the material had been carved with incredible detail.

“No way,” whispered Rainbow Dash.

It was the fresco. The same one that the Mighty Helm had copied millennia before, and that had been in turn copied by archeologists who would never understand its true value or implications- -the copies of which Daring Do still held, as did Caballeron elsewhere.

Carving obsidian was impossible. Yet, somehow, the Exmoori had accomplished it- -and with detail that made the perfection of the Mighty Helm version seem crude in comparison. The lines were deep and perfect, and the linkages to the machinery elegant to the point of being imperceptible. The whole of it seemed to gleam.

“This is what the Mighty Helm saw,” she said, pressing a shaking hoof against the black volcanic glass.

“So it is said,” replied Flock. “Although I doubt any of them saw this version with their own eyes. The true original.”

“An Exmoor pony carved this,” said Daring Do, running her hoof over the insignia for borne-of-ice. “The last Exmoor pony. This much work, and she didn’t even sign it.”

“How modest of her. If you had a truck you could even take this back with you. Or better yet I can give you the Mighty Helm version in addition. As it will no longer have relevance when I have the Hand.”

Daring Do ignored Flock and continued to admire the stone, although only for a moment longer. Then she sighed. “One last test,” she said.

“We need to present it with the blood of a child of Exmoor,” said Flock.

“Do we have that?” asked Rainbow Dash.

“No,” said Flock. “We don’t. Nor did you manage to acquire the Spear of Extinction from Caballeron.”

“I’m working on it,” snapped Daring Do. “I’ll find a way.”

“Yes. Because clearly you intend to use persuasion on a door. As no doubt you and it have comparable intelligence.”

Once again, Daring Do ignored him. She walked past the stone and climbed onto the courtyard. As she did, she heard the sound of hoofsteps. Right on time, whether their arrival was dictated by fate- -or by the thing that Daring Do had felt watching her since she had arrived.

“Daring Do!” laughed Caballeron as he stepped onto the circular platform. He was holding the Spear of Extinction, and he flourished it and then stood it beside him, pressing the butt of it into a large piece of ruby with a dull clank. Behind him was a small army: the cold-eyed changeling, Rogue, a zebra holding a spear, a badly beaten Withers leaning on a Pegasus with arterial eyes, and a small horde of Questlords and their robots.

One of the Questlords stepped forward. The most beautiful, although they were identical. Their leader.

“Absence!” cried Rainbow Dash.

“Rainbow Dash,” she replied, ignoring the strange looks form her brothers and sisters at the sound of her being called with a name. “I expected to see you here. And I applaud your efforts. Even if they were in vain.”

“No, you don’t understand! Caballeron, he’s going to- -” Rainbow Dash nearly doubled over with a sudden pain in her chest. She reached up and felt a cold sensation coming from the dial implanted there. Across from her, she saw a circle of magic around Flock’s hoof. “Wh…why?” she asked.

Absence assumed that the question was for her. “For the good of Equestria,” she said. “And because it is what is required of me.”

“Indeed, indeed,” said Caballeron, smiling but slightly annoyed that he was not allowed to gloat more. Still, he was clearly enjoying himself. He stepped forward to Daring Do, knowing that neither her nor her entourage would be able to do anything. “My dear, you seem to be outnumbered. I suppose that will force you to be civil, for once.”

“Since when have you ever liked civility, Caballeron?”

“Since it has allowed me to finally win. Because it doesn’t look like you brought any blood with you. Nor could you have found it. This Spear is its only source.” He laughed. “I’m afraid I’ve finally beaten you. You should have focused more on training in linguistics.” He leaned forward. “Or did you know the part about the final test, and were just too foolish to actually bring what you needed?”

Daring Do smiled coolly. “I know what I’m doing, Caballeron. Better than you do.”

Caballeron frowned for a moment, clearly wondering what she was planning. Then he laughed.

“Of course you do.” He stepped away from her and approached the center of the courtyard. As soon as he reached the circle in the center, the machines surrounding the circle activated.

Something near them moved, and a chamber was ejected from a holding platform. A large robotic arm whirred to life, reaching into the holding cell and removing something. It came from a deep shadow, but when it moved into view even Caballeron gasped.

The object was a skeleton. It had once belonged to a pony, although the type of pony was not clear. It bore neither a horn nor wings, but was far shorter and at the same time much stockier and denser of build than an earth-pony. The bones had been etched in runes and linked by complex pieces of metal, much like the golems before had been. Its spine had been modified with a number of ports that linked to cables and tubes, which detached as it was set down.

The arm released the skeleton, and the runes glowed. The internal mechanisms within it hummed to life, and the skeleton suddenly jerked its head. Caballeron took a step back, and the skeleton took a step forward. It was a jerky, difficult motion, but the second one was almost consistent. The third step came smooth, as though the revenant were actually a living, walking pony.

Its surface flickered, and a projection appeared, coating it like a skin. It was pastel green in color, and formed what appeared to be the skin of a pony. Though translucent, the surface formed a face. A pair of large dark eyes opened, even though the sockets of the skull beneath the hologram could still be seen clearly.

“Hello,” she said. Her voice showed no signs of distortion, but her hologram flickered slightly as she spoke. Her accent was heavy and strange, but her words crisp and fully comprehensible. “I have analyzed your language and am currently translating. My name is of no consequence, as I no longer deserve one. I built this facility, and for that sin I shall never sleep in its defense.” Her eyes turned from Daring Do to Caballeron. “Now. Why have you come?”

Caballeron, having regained his composure, stepped forward. “Guardian!” he exclaimed. “I demand access to the final chamber!”

The remnants of the Exmoor pony smiled viciously. Her eyes were incredibly cruel. “Then I ask of you the blood of a child of Exmoor.”

Caballeron held the Spear of Extinction sideways and thrust it outward. “I give you this.”

The Spear suddenly lifted out of Caballeron’s hooves, pulled by thin beams of pink light coming from distant and unseen machinery. The Spear twisted and was pulled toward the revenant. It turned so that she could examine the blade, and a number of thin beams scanned across it.

“Confirmed,” said the ghost. “The genetic signature of this blade is Exmoori. Belonging to my own son, in fact. Although his father was borne-of-white-steel, his place as a child of Exmoor is inviolable and true. This is the blood I requested of you.” She looked up at Caballeron. “Entry denied.”

The world shifted quickly, and the machines moved faster than anypony could react. The seemingly random blocks that sat beside the obsidian fresco moved with lightning speed, shifting and warping and merging with other machinery. Caballeron was pulled off the central platform, and all of his associates- -including the Questlords- -were immediately trapped in the unbreakable grasp of the Exmoori machines.

“NOOOO! WAIT!” cried Caballeron.

The Exmoori ghost did not wait. She stared impassively and cruelly as several large, serpentine devices emerged from her machines. Their heads flicked open, revealing long blades, and they rushed forward toward the heads of her enemies.

“WAIT!” cried Daring Do.

The blades stopped, inches away from the faces of the ponies they had been targeting. Daring Do stepped forward. No members of her party had been taken.

“I have not interfered with your party because my systems can infer that it is separate,” said the ghost. “You are free to leave, if you so choose.”

“And if I would rather accept your challenge? If I do that, will you spare the others?”

The Exmoori ghost stared. Nothing flashed behind her eyes, but Daring Do could tell that in her own perverse, long-dead way she was thinking. “If you manage to gain my approval, you will have access to all of my systems. I am no longer a pony, but an interface. All aspects of my being will be at your control. Including my defensive mechanisms.” She paused, and then did smile. “However, fail, and no pony will leave me this day.”

Daring Do stood up straight. “I wish entry.”

The serpentine blades dropped, but the systems holding Caballeron and the struggling Questlords did not relent.

“Then I ask of you the blood of a child of Exmoor.”

“I am a child of Exmoor. The blood you ask flows in my veins.”

There were collective gasps from those members of the crowd who did not realize that Daring Do was bluffing.

“Interesting,” said the hologram. “Then you would not mind giving me some. I would only need a single drop.”

“No.”

“NO?!” shrieked Caballeron, his voice rising to a pitch usually only attainable by little fillies. “Daring, please, you can’t- -” He was silenced by a slight but firm squeeze.

“I will not ask twice,” said the Exmoori, her tone low and ominous.

“Then you won’t insult me twice.” Daring Do took a step toward the animated skeleton, glaring at it. “You have no right to request blood from me! You are dead. You have been dishonored eternally for that unforgivable failure. I hold you in unending contempt. The dead have no right to make such a request of the living.” She leaned forward, so that her eyes were level with those of the skeleton. She saw the cold echoes of the eyes that had once been there, and the long-empty sockets behind them. “Now either summon a worthy son of Exmoor to take my blood by force, or get out of my way.”

The revenant stared at her for a long moment, and then smiled. “Entry granted. Congratulations. Though from here it is apparent you bear no such lineage, you at least understood the question.”

She stepped back. “In life, my name was Fuzzypoof. I assure you it sounds more impressive in our ancient language. You deserve to at least know that. To know the name of one who bears no honor.”

Rainbow Dash snorted, but Daring Do silenced her with a glare.

“You implied that I should release your comrades,” said Fuzzypoof. “Shall I?”

“No. Hold them but don’t hurt them.”

“It will be done.”

“Second. Open the door.”

Fuzzypoof’s eyes narrowed. “I will do so. But I am programmed to warn you. What lies beyond this door is an object of unfathomable evil and power. One which must never again see the light of the red-sphere. In life I had hoped that it would stay buried here, forever. Although I think I knew that such would never occur.” She looked back at the great door. “The others had departed when I built this door. Their bones are buried in this hall itself, added to the concrete. Only I remain. And this door is the last line of defense. To open it, you will need to disengage my security systems entirely.”

“Will you still be able to hold Caballeron?”

“Yes.”

“Then do it.”

Fuzzypoof smiled. “As you command.”

The facility suddenly went quiet. There were still the sounds of the maintained machines, but all the tension seemed to vanish. And as it did, the enormous door silently retracted into the walls, floor, and ceiling.

Daring Do did not thank the dead mare. There was no need to; anything that could be thanked had departed long ago. She simply pushed past and motioned for the others to follow. They did, although Fuzzypoof stared harshly- -and perhaps longingly- -at the dial in Rainbow Dash’s chest.

“One more thing,” she said, just as they passed. “When you see Solum Finis, tell him I am sorry.”

“Don’t make demands of me,” snapped Daring Do. Her expression softened for a moment. “Though for the sake of the memory and bravery of Fuzzypoof, I will relay her final message if I see fit.”

The ghost smiled, this time with eyes that were much less cruel. “Thank you.”

 

Chapter 56: Machine Pony

From the door, the hallway descended in a slow stone slope. Conduits led upward from the deaths, and some rusted tracks ran downward over the rough stone. There was no source of light in the hallway; the crystals had burned out long ago.

Flock was forced to ignite another magic sphere. This one, instead of racing forward, hovered near him, shedding pale yellow light on the high-ceilinged corridor and casting long shadows that turned and shifted as the group moved forward.

The light of the doorway faded, as did Caballeron’s furious screaming. Daring Do was not sure how long Fuzzypoof would be able to contain him. Probably forever. But knowing Caballeron, that was not guaranteed by any means.

“I can’t believe her name was Fuzzypoof,” said Rainbow Dash. “That’s so stupid.”

“Says the pony named ‘Rainbow’,” noted Flock.

“Can we just agree that none of us have cool names?” snapped Sweetie Drops. She stared up at the shadows and the hallway. It was clear that she was not happy in the slightest with being down here.

“Daring Do has a cool name,” muttered Rainbow Dash.

“Be like the clone and stay quiet.”

Rainbow Dash was about to protest, but she turned to Daring Do for help- -only to find her staring intently at one of the walls.

“Daring Do?”

“Look at this,” she said, pointing. “There’s a joint.”

“So?” asked Sweetie Drops.

“It’s just…strange.”

Daring Do elected to ignore it, although after a few more minutes of increasingly rapid descent, it began to become obvious that she had caught on to something both forgotten and critical in a secret, unknown way. The hall was not the same. The walls were the same size, but they had lost the appearance of Exmoori architecture. There was no longer smooth, gray stone, but rough sandstone that gleamed with reflective grit and strange grains in colors that seemed sickly and bizarre. It had been carved into a complex array of blocks, which had been in turn laid to form the appearance of subtle, snaking figures.

Then, suddenly, White stopped. She stared upward into the darkness.

“What is it?” asked Daring Do. White pointed. “Flock, more light.”

“Sure. Why not.” The light he had produced moved upward and grew in intensity. The hallway suddenly seemed so much wider than it had before; it had expanded insidiously, and none of them had noticed.

The light illuminated a pair of statues, each standing well over thirty feet tall. They were hideous in appearance. Each showed a tall quadrupedal creature, a being like a pony- -but not. They were clad in robes of a peculiar design and a style that matched no pony culture, and showed the appearance of armor beneath. Only their heads were visible. They had the rough shape of ponies with short manes, but that was where the similarity ended. Their skin was covered in scales, and their mouths- -their jaws spreading so much wider than any pony’s could, and the edges of their mouths reaching far higher- -were filled with several rows of reptilian teeth. Their eyes had vertical slits, and each of their heads bore three spiraled, unicorn-like horns, arranged in-line starting at the bridge of their nose.

“What…what are those?” asked Rainbow Dash, her voice quavering.

“I don’t know,” said Daring Do. “I’ve never seen anything like them.” She turned slowly. “Flock?”

Flock looked back at her, and she saw that he was afraid. “Can’t you feel it?”

“Feel what?”

“How old this place is. How very old. This place, it predates the Exmoori.” He stared up at the statues of lizard-like pony beings. “It predates them by far…”

“I don’t like them,” said Sweetie Drops.

“Neither do I,” replied Daring Do. Quietly. Almost as if the statues could hear. “Come one.”

They passed, and the landscape began to change drastically. Perhaps the statues had been meant to guard the entrance to what had once been a very different temple, one that had been buried by eons of glacial action and the erosion of mountains.

The long hallways widened vastly, and the edges became ornate. Columns were present, often at strange angles that made no sense for support, especially considering the delicately crafted arches and strange symmetrical domes built into the cavern. Daring Do looked up at them a few times, but soon found that she could not. She was no stranger to unseal angles, and in at least one tomb she had seen some that made no Euclidian sense. This was different, though. These angles made too much sense.

They were exact and perfect, bound by mathematical rules and arcana alike that seemed to both interst and terrify Flock to no end. Looking at them made Daring Do’s head burn just behind her eyes, feeling the magic resonating. Every angle had a purpose; every column, every choice in material or seemingly inconsequential carving. It was all a machine. One that had no moving parts, but that was vastly superior in design and complexity to the seemingly anemic and corroded Exmoori conduits that dared to interrupt the elegant flow of the temple.

Daring Do was glad for the ugly conduits. Without them, she was not sure she could have kept her sanity.

They moved deeper and longer. How long and how deep was impossible to determine, as the path seemed to shift imperceptibly, perhaps driving them straight into the ground or perhaps leading them in circles. Perhaps toward their goal, or perhaps away from it. Daring Do increasingly found herself hoping for the latter.

Except that the path never erred. Daring Do could feel it. And She understood in an instant when the final door stood before them. The air seemed to vibrate, and the air was almost unbreathable with the taste of metal and the scent of ozone. The air was so thick with magic that the amulet that Rainbow Dash wore had nearly given up; it twitched spasmodically, but only slightly. Rainbow Dash hardly seemed to notice. The intensity of the magic was so great that even she could sense it, either by intuition or by the device in her chest slowly increasing her heartrate in response.

Then the light fell on something blocking their path. Daring Do froze, staring up at it. She heard the ring of silver being pulled from a scabbard, and felt Flock preparing for his retreat.

Before them stood another statue. This one was different, though. It had no base, and had not been placed at the side of the path. Rather, it lay in the center. In form, it resembled an enormous Pegasus; had it been standing, it would have been at last five times taller than Daring Do or Rainbow Dash. Its body was made of silvery metal, but metal that had long-since lost its luster and grown covered in tarnish.

“What is that thing?” said Rainbow Dash, leaning on her heels, unsure whether she was getting ready to fly or fight.

Daring Do walked past Flock, grabbing his light spell out of the air and dragging it forward to illuminate the statue. Rainbow Dash followed.

It was apparent on close inspection that the statue was not, in fact, a statue. It was a machine, and a badly damaged one at that. Half of its noble, carved face had been removed and had corroded away to black oxidation. The plating had fallen away in several parts, revealing what Daring Do could only assume was some unfathomable type of mechanism beneath. One rear leg had been almost entirely lost. Only the wings, as tarnished as they were, remained perfect and undamaged.

“I think it’s a golem,” said Daring Do.

“It doesn’t look like the golems before,” said Sweetie Drops. The tone in her voice was ominous. Despite having her sword drawn, she did not approach it.

“It doesn’t match any known design or school of golemcraft,” said Flock. “It’s not Exmoori.”

“Whatever it is,” said Rainbow Dash, leaning forward to the half of the face that made the golem or statue or whatever it was look as though it was sleeping. “It’s really messed up. I don’t think it still works.”

As soon as she said it, the dinner-plate sized eye opened. Several layers of silver nictitating membranes retracted, and a system of thick lenses and ornate mirrors shifted, bringing Rainbow Dash into focus. For a moment, the lenses of the eyes magnified something deep within, something tiny but wretchedly organic.

Something inside the silver Pegasus whirred to life. Through the damage in its carved armor, light of some unthinkable reactor became visible. Then it stood, rising from the ground with little difficulty or effort despite its ragged body. As it did, its wings stretched outward, revealing a tremendous wingspan of pure silver. Despite panicing and reaching for Rainbow Dash to pull her away, Daring Do’s mind for some reason fixated on wondering if this silver creature was meant to fly.

Sweetie Drops drew her blade, but the creature ignored her. It instead turned its good eye toward Rainbow Dash. Then it did what Daring Do least expected. It spoke.

“You look…different.”

Rainbow Dash frowned. “Do we know each other?”

“Not that I’m aware of, no,” replied the silver Pegasus. His voice had the barest of accents, one that Daring Do could not place. His voice was beautiful, but clearly created by vocal organs that were incredibly different from those of ponies. Hundreds of delicate mechanisms seemed to whirr as his mouth worked, and even the motion of his eyes carried a kind of effortless complexity.

He paused, and looked around at the others. “Where are the small fuzzy ones? You are not them.”

“Small…fuzzy ones?” asked Rainbow Dash, confused.

“Yes. Like little colored balls of sky-cotton. You are not them. You are different.”

Daring Do understood. She stepped forward and addressed the creature. “You mean the Exmoori. Fuzzypoof sends her regards, and her apologies. She and her people have entered the final forever-sleep.”

A look of sadness crossed over the creature’s silver eye. “A shame. I thought they were cute. Not like the others. The ugly clever ones.” His eye trailed from pony to pony. “Times have changed. How long was I asleep?”

“A thousand years at least,” said Flock.

“A thousand years?” The silver Pegasus seemed greatly surprised. “That short? Such a short time for an extinction. Your kind evolves quickly I suppose. Moves on from the past. For better or for worse, I suppose.”

“A thousand years,” said Daring Do. She frowned. “If you were asleep for that long, how are you speaking the same language at us?”

The creature suddenly leaned forward, his face being held inches from Daring Do’s. “Because your language is the one I dream in these days.” He lifted his head back to its normal position and began walking. One of his front legs was missing most of its armor, and the corrosion had spread to the internal tissue. He limped on that leg. “And a thousand years is not long. Not long at all. I have stood sentry at this door for two and a half million years. I am Solum Finis, the last of the Argasi.”

Daring Do followed him, falling into step beside him. Rainbow Dash did as well. Doing so was not easy; although he was injured and decaying, his stride was as long as several ponies.

“That isn’t possible,” said Daring Do. “There was no civilization that old. Ponies hadn’t evolved yet- -”

“They had,” corrected Solum Finis. “But you were smaller then. And you didn’t talk yet. Supposedly you tasted good. I wouldn’t have known. I don’t eat, as my body is made entirely of metal.”

“Are you…a machine, then?”

Solum Finis sighed. “Such a dull question. I liked the fuzzy ones better. They never asked stupid questions. No of course I’m not a machine. I’m an Argasus. I’ve already said that.”

“Then why are you here?”

Solum Finis stopped walking. His head turned so that his eye was facing Daring Do. The expression within it was heavy and profoundly sad, and even without saying it, Daring Do understood that it had not been a lie or an exaggeration. His face had been beautiful once, but now had become haggard with an ungodly expanse of time. It was the face of a being who had outlived his own civilization, and then many, many others subsequent.

“I was stationed here,” he said. “After…after the fall of Olympus. The fall of the Aurasi, and the Golden Lord’s sacrifice. I survived. One of few. Now one of none.” He looked up at to what appeared to be a long section of unlit, dark hallway. Daring Do could feel the angles of it staring back at her, the hideous shapes carved by the horns and hooves of creatures that no archeologist or paleontologist had ever known. “That was toward the end of it. What in my dreams your kind calls the Dragon Age.”

Rainbow Dash inhaled sharply. Daring Do fully expected a squeal, but Rainbow Dash retained admirable control over her faculties.

“The trihorns put me here. To protect he Necroforge. The trihorns are gone now. They were gone a long time ago. Now only I remain.”

Flock moved forward swiftly, suddenly interested in the conversation. “What did you call it? The ‘Necroforge’? What is that?”

“It is what you are currently standing in.”

“That’s not what I mean,” snapped Flock. “What is it intended for?”

“To shift the balance of geopolitical power.”

“I have no idea what that means,” admitted Rainbow Dash.

“Of course,” said Solum Finis, trying to rephrase. “The Necroforge uses the Hand of the Vandrare as a source of magical force. It does whatever the operator asks of it.”

“So it grants wishes!”

Solum Finis smiled a distant smile. “It grants the kind of wishes that the trihorns wished. Imagine a city. Any city on this planet, at any range. With the Necroforge you could reduce it to dust in an instant along with every inhabitant. You could shatter an army…or create one in an instant. Breed new life, or snuff out a type that already exists. The sorcerers even claimed that given the right circumstances, it could snuff out a star.” He paused. “The fuzzy ones were interested in the snuffing of one particular star, though.”

Daring Do knew exactly which star, and to her horror both how desperate and how depraved the Exmoori had become. Their intention had never been to ensure their survival. It had already been too late for that. Their goal had been to win the war that had destroyed them.

“But if you knew that’s what it did, why let the Exmoori in here? Why not stop them?”

“Because I get lonely. And because the geopolitical situation that existed when I was brought here no longer exists. There is no longer anything worth protecting. Such has not existed for countless millennia. Had the Necroforge been completed, had it been used, things would be different. But the trihorns are gone now. Olympus as well. And the dragons are just a shadow of what they were.”

“What happened?” asked Rainbow Dash.

“War.”

The hallway suddenly opened into an enormous room. Columns wrought in vast spirals reached upward, intertwining into the supports for an unseen and distant ceiling. The room was round, and lit in the middle, although only barely. Daring Do looked out to see where the Exmoori cables converged in the center, along with the rest of their aging equipment.

Several pools had been assembled in the center of the room, forming a shape that from above probably looked something like a highly symmetrical flower. The pools were filled with a metallic liquid that glowed faintly but was otherwise perfectly placid and would have been mirror-like save for the few signs that it was flowing lazily.

Bridges ran over the pools. There were four of them, arranged symmetrically and carved from the same pale stone as the rest of the area. It was clear that they had not been intended as walkways. The Exmoori, however, had coopted them for exactly that purpose: metal catwalks had been constructed over them, leading to the center, where the equipment converged on a wide violet sphere of energy.

The energy sphere was incredibly active. It shimmered and stretched, its surface becoming brilliantly iridescent with impossible blues and golds. A high, almost imperceptible ringing sound originated from it, and the field generated a powerful smell of ozone and something much more acrid. It cast a harsh but pale white light that left the ponies before it looking as bloodless and pale as Solum Finis.

Solum Finis approached the device. Daring Do and Flock followed him, but only hesitantly. White stayed behind completely. Her instincts were too well attuned to get any nearer. Sweetie Drops also stayed toward the edge, but began pacing. Rainbow Dash continued forward, almost to the edge of one of the pools.

“Oh wow,” she said, suddenly stepping back. “That stuff’s hot, isn’t it?”

“It is,” said Solum Finis, dipping the tip of his hoof into the metal and sending out a long ripple. “These pools used to contain metastable fluidic aetherite, but it was already too badly contaminated to start the Necroforge when the fuzzy ones came. They replaced it with a gallium alloy, kept just under its boiling point. It serves as coolant. Remarkably well. Don’t fall in. You’ll melt.”

“Noted,” said Rainbow Dash, taking several wide steps back.

Flock stared at the pool. For a moment Daring Do had the ludicrous idea that he was about to jump in. He did not, of course, but his eyes slowly turned up to the sphere itself. Solum Finis had not needed to explain what it contained. They all already knew.

“This machine,” said Flock, slowly. “It’s dying.”

Solum Finis nodded slowly. “Your question, winged one. Why I allowed the fuzzy ones to attempt to rebuild this atrocity. The reason is containment.”

Daring Do looked up at him. He looked down at her, the lenses and silver irises of his eye adjusting to keep her in focus. “Meaning?”

“Meaning there was a reason the Empire could never make it work. It failed. Badly. But they contained the Hand, though use of a powerful spell. They went extinct, though. There was no one left to continue work. Or continue the spell.”

“It must have been a mighty spell to last as long as it did,” suggested Flock, clearly in admiration

“Oh, the spell still persists. As strong as ever. But it is failing.”

“That makes no sense.”

“Not to you. Because you have no idea what lies under that sphere.”

“Of course we do!” exclaimed Rainbow Dash. “It’s the Hand of Doom!”

“Doom. An appropriate name but a wrong one. But not as wrong as ‘Hand’. Even if it is one.”

“Wait. It’s actually a hand? Like, an actual hand?” Rainbow Dash held up her hoof and wiggled it.

“No. And yes. That’s the point. It learns. It thinks. And it adapts. Slowly, but it has time.” He looked at the device. “So much time. Can’t you feel it, Daring Do?”

“How do you know my name?”

“Because I listen. That’s not the point. You can hear it. It has reached out to you. The old spells failed long ago, and the ion field that the fuzzy ponies built is breaking down. The containment is leaking. The Hand is reaching out to the world, calling the living to come to it. To take it. To free it.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” lied Daring Do. Except she did. The dreams, the sensation of something floating in the void, watching her. Always watching. Sometimes whispering, since the day she had learned of its existence. Since she had been brought the information out of nowhere. As if orchestrated by some higher power.

“You lie poorly. I understand the Hand better than any being, and I know the reason I was chosen to guard it. Though alive, my body is metal. I have no organic mind. The Hand cannot influence me. It reaches and reaches, but can never touch me.”

“I just need to know how to get it out of here,” asked Flock.

“Really.” Solum Finis’s voice had suddenly grown icy. “And why would you want to do that?”

“Trust me,” said Daring Do, trying to diffuse the situation. “We don’t intend to use it- -”

Solum Finis laughed. “Use it? Of course not. There is no way for you to ‘use’ it. The Trihorn Empire could not figure out how to use it, even in their darkest hour. Neither could the tiny engineers. Society has decayed. Technology has decayed. The world has moved on. The ability to ‘use’ it passed. If it ever existed.”

“Then there shouldn’t be a problem,” said Rainbow Dash.

“Yes. Yes there is. You have not convinced me.”

“My job isn’t to convince you,” snapped Flock. “My job is to take the Hand.”

“And contain it in what?”

“I have a phasic dimension, a parallel reality. If I keep it there- -”

“It will end that reality. Devour it. And then it will return. You. You who call yourself Corvius Flock. You of them all understand what it truly is. Yet you still insist on a path doomed to failure.”

“I will succeed,” protested Flock through gritted teeth.

“You might. But I have greater faith in your competitors. They at least seem competent.”

“Our competitors?” asked Daring Do, feeling the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. “What do you- -”

They swarmed in instantly and silently, moving with the same efficiency and stealth that White possessed: silver-clad shadows borne on white wings that flitted around the edge of the room, sealing every exit and forming a perimeter. Their weapons were drawn and raised. Sweetie Drops raised her sword and White prepared for attack, as did Rainbow Dash. Flock began to retreat, his eyes darting for places to hide. Only Solum Finis and Daring do failed to react appreciably; Solum Finis because he had no stake in the outcome, and Daring Do because this was exactly her luck.

The main entrance was left open, and for a moment Daring Do could see Rainbow Dash considering it. She put her hoof on the younger mare’s shoulder and shook her head solemnly. It was not meant as an exit. It was an entrance.

And it was used as such. A mare slowly entered the room, her body seeming enormous and vast in her golden, rune-inscribed power armor. She marched slowly, almost calmly, and her hooves clicked almost elegantly along the floor. On her front right limb she bore the red and white version of the Ancient Sign, and a crest involving a bell. Her mask was down and she showed no skin, but Daring Do could feel her surveying the scene. To her sides stood two white Pegasi: a stallion, and a mare in thin armor- -a mare that Rainbow Dash recognized well, even with her mask sealed.

Behind the golden mare came every pony who was not a Queslord, save for one unarmored Pegasus mare with an extensive bruise around one eye and her front leg around a badly beaten Withers, who she was assisting.

Caballeron was among them. He seemed pale, and his head was hung low. Daring Do had never seen him so ashamed, and she did not take joy in it.

Flock immediately leapt into the air, intending to escape at any cost. There was a flash of light, and an orange bubble appeared around him. He rebounded off the top of it, and then began to struggle, pounding his hooves gains the surface.

“Free me at once!” he cried, his voice cracking in a high, panicked shriek.

“No,” replied the mare. Her voice was made deeper by her helmet but not otherwise impaired or distorted. Her horn, encased in a single gold spike, was glowing with pale orange as she projected the bubble- -and began a second spell simultaneously.

A complicated rune appeared on the floor, drawing itself out in glowing, ornate shapes and ancient unicorn symbols. In seconds a magical circle of immense complexity had been formed, and in a flash of magic- -orange, but deeper in color than the female Questlord’s- -flashed above it, consuming the spell an integrating it into one that was vastly more powerful.

The teleportation spell flashed and released a sound like thunder, followed by the dull thud of four metal-clad hooves striking the still-smoldering floor.

A second Questlord stood before them. Not one of the silver-clad synthetic Pegasi, but another unicorn, this one even larger than the female beside him. His armor was more expansive but also more simplistic in design. It had the same runes, but was smoother and less vicious in appearance than the mare’s. The reduction in features was extensive to the point where his mask showed almost no indications of even containing a face. He wore a short and seemingly superfluous red cape, but it did not obscure the symbol he carried on his front limb: the same red Questlord insignia as the mare, but also an extremely complex heraldic diagram centering around an instrument that resembled a very long violin.

“Grandmaster,” said the mare, saluting him.

“Grand Seneschal,” he said, curtly but with clear pleasure at seeing her. “It is good to see you again. Your work is impeccable as always.”

“It is admittedly not all mine.” Her mask turned slightly and knowingly toward Daring Do. “It would seem that sompeony completely deactivated the facility’s security system.”

“How interesting,” laughed the Grandmaster. He turned his face toward the group of ponies. It was blank and featureless, just a smooth plate of gold.

“Don’t bother resisting, wizard,” he sighed, watching as Flock struggled. “Her skill at magecraft vastly exceeds yours. If you have any to begin with.” His mask turned slightly, looking at Rainbow Dash’s chest.

“Hey,” said Rainbow Dash. “My eyes are up here.”

“Indeed they are. And beautiful ones at that, my dear Element of Loyalty.”

Rainbow Dash blushed. “Wait, you know me?”

“Of course. You are of course Rainbow Dash, the Element of Loyalty. My personal favorite Element, I might add.”

Rainbow Dash blushed further. “Well, it’s just that…you know…most ponies don’t recognize me and all…”

“I of course do. As I am not most ponies. What vexes me, though, is why you are carrying the technetium dial.” He turned to Flock. “Despite your appearance- -and your insistence on defiling our nature with the guise- -you are no unicorn. Nor were you ever. Without the dial, you are powerless. A pity. I had a special antimony cage constructed to contain you.”

“Don’t speak to me from on-high, you inbred polyploid,” snapped Flock. “When I get out of here I will tear that dial from the genetic inferior’s chest and I will rend you into lard- -”

“How pompous you are, knowing that the shield works both ways. Or thinking that it does. But you could barely rend newsprint. There is a reason you were number eight.”

Flock fell silent. Daring Do, though, stepped forward.

“And Daring Do herself,” said the Grandmaster, clearly smiling under his mask from the tone of his voice. “The one who made this all possible. While your gaze is reproachful, I insist on thanking you.” He bowed. The mare beside him did the same without hesitation. The Pegasi around the perimeter did the same, but never took their eyes off of Daring Do or the others.

“Hopefully you understand the significance of this gesture,” said the mare. Her voice was harsh, as though she had just been done an insult. “And are capable of comprehending it.”

“I am. And I do. I just wish I didn’t have to.”

“Don’t sell yourself short,” said the Grandmaster. “You’ve been far more competent than certain OTHER players.” He looked over his shoulder and glared at Caballeron, who to his credit did not shrink from the gaze of the armored unicorn.

“Can we put this in a can?” shouted Sweetie Drops from behind Daring Do. “Formality and formality, is that all you knights know how to do? And what is this? A cape? Gold? Are you in a parade?”

The mare stepped forward, charging her horn- -but the Grandmaster stopped her with a simple gesture. “Let her speak,” he said. “She’s bating us but surely has a purpose.”

“Or she is an addled farmer.”

Sweetie Drops stepped past Daring do and pointed the tip of her silver sword toward the Grandmaster. “You’re a knight, aren’t you? Then I challenge you. One on one. To a duel.”

“Drops!” hissed Daring Do.

“We’re outnumbered and outgunned,” whispered Sweetie Drops in return. “This is our only shot!”

“You have no right to challenge him,” sighed the unicorn mare. “You have no bloodline, no heritage, no claim to nobility. Duels can only be committed between knights.”

“No, Carrilon,” said the Grandmaster, waving her back. “It’s fine. As a knight, part of our chivalric duty is to be gracious to the peasantry. And admittedly I’m interested in seeing if she knows how to actually use that vedmak sword. I accept her challenge.”

“Of course, Grandmaster.” Carillon, the unicorn mare, shifted. In an instant she had drawn a long, red-colored sword with a serrated back. She held it by the blade and offered it to the Grandmaster. “My sword will serve you well, if you accept it.”

The Grandmaster waved it away. “No, Carrilon. Swordwork was never my forte.” He slid off his cape, and the silver-clad Pegasus stallion took it from him with practiced formality, quickly folding it for safekeeping. The stallion, now clad only in golden armor, stepped forward.

“Oh how exciting,” said Solum Finis, clapping his front hooves together softly. “On the first day after waking up, too.” One of his wings spread out and pushed the others back. “Give them space for the contest. And mind the pools. Don’t melt yourselves.”

The silver-clad Questlords spaced out as well, lowering their weapons. A rough ring had formed, and Sweetie Drops stood across from the Grandmaster of the Order of the Red Bloom.

“You know what this sword will do to you if it cuts you, right?” she asked.

“Yes. Perhaps better than you do. I never forged one myself, but spent quite a bit of time dealing with those who wielded them. Systematically. And with maximum prejudice.”

Sweetie Drop’s eyes narrowed. “Then I won’t accept a yield. You should know that.”

“And I will only accept a yield. Despite my position, I abhor violence. However, you have outstepped your position quite badly. So I intend to humiliate you in kind.”

“You’ll never get the chance.” She held up her hoof. Rainbow Dash sensed what it meant, and she threw her the amulet from around her neck. Sweetie Drops caught it and slipped it on. Though it was from the wrong school, the effect was immediate. Without a cry or a grimace, she shot forward, her blade whistling through the air.

The unicorn summoned a powerful shield spell. On contact, the runes of the vedmak sword ignited with violet light and cleaved the orange field with ease. The unicorn appeared to have anticipated this. He had moved forward behind the opacity of the shield, relying on his power armor to enhance his speed. He parried Sweetie Drops’s blade with the armor on his foreleg. His runes flared with orange light as they met those of Sweetie Drops’s sword, and though of different languages they ignited together, throwing out a plume of multicolored sparks.

“Oh WOW!” cried Rainbow Dash. She reared up. “GET HIM! Poke a hole! POKE A HOLE!!”

The unicorn twisted almost acrobatically, preparing for a sudden kick. The amulet around Sweetie Drops’s neck twisted imperceptibly, and she reacted without seeing the blow coming. She raised her sword and braced the blade with one hoof, deflecting the block.

Despite escaping the blow, she was thrown back. Although the unicorn had no sword, his strength while wearing power armor was vastly superior to Sweetie Drops’s. As was his speed. Which made it a question of agility.

Sweetie Drops changed tactics. She formed a sign with her hooves and her body seemed to partially vanish. She rushed forward like the wind, flipping through the air with acrobatics that even White found impressive. The unicorn summoned another shield spell, but Sweetie Drops sidestepped it. She struck him in the head, but to no effect. His horn was armored and protected from blows.

“USE A SPELL!” cried Rainbow Dash. “DO IT!”

Except that Sweetie Drops could not. Daring Do already knew that. The spells were artificial, derived from the use of the cursed amulet. For Sweetie Drops, they were no more powerful than Daring Do’s ability to use simple zebra rhyme-spells or Flock’s ability to produce lights. Worse, using them injured her. Despite her training, she was no vedmak- -and the Grandmaster seemed to know this.

He did not gloat, though. In fact he did not speak at all. None of the Questlords did. They simply watched, almost impassively. As if the outcome were already forgone.

The Grandmaster struck again. Daring Do suddenly understood. Though weakened by the use of the amulet, Sweetie Drop’s gambit had been successful. She had learned that although strong, the Grandmaster was not agile. His armor was too heavy and too inflexible. In that regard, Sweetie Drops had the advantage.

She leapt up again. He struck at her with a beam, but she twirled in midair, breaking part of the beam with her rune-sword. The Grandmaster took a step back, and Sweetie Drops landed with one hoof on his horn. Due to his strength, his head was not pushed down, but that was exactly what Sweetie Drops had expected. She used him as a springboard to land on his back. For just a moment, she seemed to pause in midair. Daring Do saw her eyes, and where she was looking- -and remembered being in almost the same position, staring at the air-handling systems of one of the Pegasi back in southern Equestria. She had been doing what Sweetie Drops was now: finding a weakness.

And Sweetie Drops found one. She drew her sword and slashed. The Grandmaster struck her directly with a wide-field explosion, sending her hurdling across the room and toward the Questlord mare.

“Get up, earth-pony,” said the mare, with some level of disinterested contempt. “Do not insult him. Keep fighting.”

“Shut your cake hole,” swore Sweetie Drops, lifting herself up- -and smiling as she saw the Grandmaster lurch to one side.

Fluid poured out of his armor, boiling into acrid smoke as it touched the ground. Sweetie Drops had cut deep, and although his body had been untouched his armor had been badly damaged. Half of it had now been rendered nonfunctional.

The Grandmaster took an awkward step forward, and Sweetie Drops lunged. He raised a spell against her, but she cut through it. He parried, but in his unbalanced state he was nearly thrown over. Sweetie Drops struck again, this time striking a harder part of his armor. The runes protected him, but the sword left a deep gouge. He punched before she could thrust, forcing her to flip and jump back.

“Smart,” he said. “Ha, I applaud you, vedmak-girl!” He reached up toward his mask. An exploding bolt detonated in his mask, and it hissed as he tore it off. His long silver mane fell out over his teal face, and his orange eyes blinked in the dim light. Daring Do gasped, because she knew that pony.

“Dulcimer?!”

He turned toward her and smiled. A welcoming smile, like that of an old friend, with all the awkwardness of an academic with patched elbows on his coat. Daring Do did not understand- -and yet realized all-too late what she had just done.

Dulcimer’s eyes suddenly widened as Sweetie Drops struck him in the chest. She pushed with all her might, and he was pushed back- -until the sword burst out his back and sunk into his chest up to the hilt.

One of the Pegasi- -the only one strong enough to not be silenced by her horror, the one who secretly called herself Absence- -screamed. “GRANDMASTER!”

Sweetie Drops smiled and looked the unicorn in the eye. Then she twisted the sword hard to the left for good measure. Dulcimer’s head slumped.

“I told you,” she whispered through her ragged breath. “I told you I wouldn’t accept a yield…”

Dulcimer looked up without a hint of pain on his face and smiled. “And I told you I intended to humiliate you.”

There was a sudden flash of motion as Dulcimer’s hoof- -the one that had moments before been nearly paralyzed by the failure of his power armor- -slammed into Sweetie Drops’s chest. Her eyes bugged and her mouth shot open, showering Dulcimer with saliva.

She was thrown backward with such force that the white Pegasi were barely able to duck in time to avoid her striking the stone wall behind them.

The distance was at least four meters, and Dulcimer crossed it in two strides. He struck again. Sweetie Drops raised one of her forelegs to block. When Dulcimer struck it there was a horrible crack, and the force of his blow completely ignored her outstretched limb and continued into her face.

Sweetie Drops cried out in rage and desperation and flailed with her other hoof. A mighty earth-pony punch landed on Dulcimer’s cheek, one so loud that Daring Do could almost feel the force even at a distance. Dulcimer’s head turned almost imperceptibly from the force.

Sweetie Drops struck again in the same spot. Once again, Dulcimer barely reacted, apart from pulling back his hoof and driving it directly into Sweetie Drop’s chest where her ribs met her belly.

She did not cry out, but her legs buckled. She fell, grabbing desperately at Dulcimer as she did, trying to claw at his armor. He stamped her again, and she was still. Breathing, but still.

Dulcimer stepped back. Sweetie Drops’s sword was still inserted in his chest with its point still emerging from his back. He looked down at it and linked his hoof through the silver loop in its hilt.

“I’ll never understand why earth-ponies have such an insistence that they monopolize physical strength,” he said. He was not out of breath, tired, or in pain- -or seemingly injured in any way. With one swift motion he pulled the sword free of his body. He twirled it with far more precision than would be expected from one who never studied swordsmanship. “I don’t know what you expected this to do. If the white horn of an accursed false-god through my heart could not slay me, then what could this do?”

He laughed, and held the sword aloft in his magic. The runes resisted his magic, igniting with force against the spell. The sword shook, but Dulcimer’s grip on it only tightened. Their glow rose from violet to white hot, ringing out as though the sword were screaming. Sweetie Drops, still conscious, could do nothing but watch. Dulcimer did seem to even notice the sword’s rebellion and how it reacted to his spell, or how brightly the sword had begun to glow. His magic never faltered.

The air was filled with a high, final ring as the runes overloaded. The sword was ripped apart from within, reduced to white-hot slivers of silver that ignited in the atmosphere, raining down as shining ash. From across the room, Daring Do saw Sweetie Drops close her eyes against the tears within them.

Dulcimer smiled, and then kicked her one last time. Just lightly, though. Then he turned back to Carillon, walking across the floor with no difficulty even as his power armor resisted every step.

“Grandmaster,” said the pony Absence. She bowed deeply. “Congratulations, your lordship. Such an impressive victory. All of us here are honored to have witnessed it.”

“It was hardly a victory,” snapped Carillon. “A minor diversion. Do not speak out of turn, daughter.”

“And do not be so quick to dismiss her, Carillon. Had she a horn on her brow, she would be standing in gold and at your side within as little as five years. She even twisted. But a duel is a duel, and it must be served to its honorable conclusion.”

“You call that honorable?!” cried Rainbow Dash.

Dulcimer turned slowly toward her and smiled. “Yes. Yes I do.”

“Alright! That’s it! I don’t care if you ARE guy-Lyra, I’m going to bop you one square in the snoot!”

“No you’re not.”

“Like Luna’s starry fetlocks I’m not- -”

There was a sudden blur of silver and white. In an instant, an armored Pegasus appeared in front of Rainbow Dash.

“Absence?”

“I’m sorry, Rainbow Dash.”

Absence jabbed, her hoof striking the dial in Rainbow Dash’s chest. Rainbow Dash’s eyelids fluttered and her whole body quivered. Then she fell limply to the floor.

“DASH!” cried Daring Do.

Absence bent down and held a hoof to Rainbow Dash’s neck. “No pulse,” she said, her voice immediately wavering and her hoof suddenly shaking.

“Of course not,” said the Dulcimer. “She has advanced iocane poisoning. She’ll be fine.” His eyes met Absence’s optics. They were cold, but at the same time mild enough to make him appear mildly bemused. “What did she call you? ‘Absence’?”

“A name?” snapped Carillon.

“Mother, please, I needed it to maintain my cover- -”

Carillon held up her hoof. Absence stiffened and fell silent, and then bowed without a further word. Dulcimer was not looking at her. He was instead staring unblinkingly at Daring Do. Strangely, Daring Do wondered if she had ever seen him blink at all.

She took a breath, trying to calm herself. She wanted to run forward herself and, as Rainbow Dash had so quaintly phrased it, “boop him in the snoot”. That, of course, was an impossibility. She had already seen what had happened to Flock, Sweetie Drops, and now Rainbow Dash. The only one left other than her was White, and if Daring Do went down, White would have nopony left to protect her.

“Dulcimer,” she said. “You betrayed me. So much for Loyalty, huh?”

Dulcimer smiled and shook his head. “Dishonesty is not the same as disloyalty. I have no allegiance to. There is nothing to be loyal to.”

“And here I thought we were friends.”

“I like to think we are. And admittedly I do feel somewhat ashamed for coming to you under false pretenses. However this could not have been accomplished without you, or with your far less competent rival.”

“You’ve been pulling me the whole time. Showing up, telling me things. Letting a little bit of information at a time. But you already knew. You knew the whole time.”

“I did. And as expected, you brought me right to the Hand of Doom.”

“Hence why he thanked you earlier,” noted Solum Finis, who clearly sensed no danger in this situation- -and whose help Daring Do knew she could not count on under any circumstances. He seemed to have already chosen as side, or was just too neutral to be able to see the difference between them.

“But how?” Daring Do glared into Dulcimer’s orange eyes. “That’s the question I can’t answer. You were always there. Showing up right where I was. And showing up here. Caballeron couldn’t have figured out where we were. But you did.”

“Not actually. If you must know, I used a locator spell. I gave it to you in Singapone.”

“Impossible!” cried Flock, suddenly standing and scratching at his magical prison. “The golem- -I took it from her! I insulated it! You couldn’t have possibly tracked it!”

Daring Do’s eyes widened with realization. “The figurine…”

Dulcimer laughed and with surprising speed approached the sphere that contained Flock. “Because by then I already understood that you were involved, and taking her side. And unlike her I know exactly what you are.”

“You have no idea what I am. Or what I’m capable of.”

“No. I know both with great precision. For example: I knew that on seeing my shiny, intricate little golem, you would be distracted by its workmanship and quality. At the adorable little clockwork mechanisms and how much effort and skill it took to inscribe such a powerful spell onto something so small. But you’re no unicorn, and no mage. It never occurred to you that the golem was just the vector.”

Flock’s eyes widened, and he began swearing in a complicated clicking language.

Dulcimer just laughed and took a step back. “You’re still infected with the spell, Ms. Do. And I’m afraid I’m going to have to use one of its secondary functions right now. We will talk, of course, but at the moment there is a great deal of preparation to attend to.”

His horn glowed, and Daring Do suddenly felt her whole body being overcome with a strange feeling. It was like something cold had just moved through her veins, and her whole body had tightened in response. Then the world faded and she fell, just as Rainbow Dash did. The last thing she saw before being rendered unconscious was White staring back at her. She wondered if it would be the last time she ever saw the girl. Then there was nothing except sleep.

White was left as the last pony standing. She looked out at the others. She was surrounded completely, mostly by her brothers and sisters. Brothers and sisters that she loved- -and yet now was so very afraid of. Something hurt inside her that she did not understand. Had she known more words, she would have known that she felt deeply betrayed.

Absence approached where Daring Do lay. Absence, the eldest sister. Not the oldest, but the most important, the most beloved. Absence, who had been the only one of them smart enough and brave enough to take her own name. A name that White wondered if she had truly earned.

White hissed and covered Daring Do’s body, forcing Absence back. She lashed out, striking with her power-armor covered hoof. Absence was fast, but rather than parry or attack, she simply stepped back. Her helmet retracted, and a pair of perfect red eyes stared back at White. Eyes that nopony had felt the need to replace.

“Sister,” she said. “Please. You’re confused, and perhaps injured. Stand down.”

White tried to growl. When that did not work, she just hissed again, defending Daring Do from the approach of her confused siblings. Siblings who must have hated her, even though she knew what she was doing was right.

“Sister,” repeated Absence. “We just want to help you. This is your last warning. I will fight you, if I have to. And I will win.”

Carillon placed a golden hoof on Absence’s shoulder. “No,” she said. “Absence, was it? Stand down yourself. I’m interested in seeing how this turns out.”

Carillon retracted her own helmet. White shuddered with emotions that were strong but unnamable when she looked upon the familiar face of her mother. The which was the only one she had seen with her own eyes, staring out through thick glass before she had even been born.

“Daughter,” said Carillon. Her voice was even and authoritative, but not hateful or angry. Carillon took a step forward, and White took one back- -or nearly did so, as any retreat would leave Daring Do exposed.

“If I am correct,” continued Carillon, “you are right now experiencing a very unusual paradox of emotion. In a technical sense, your imprinting aspect is badly defective. You love your sisters and brothers, but you’ve imprinted on me…and her as well. It should be impossible but it has happened.”

White glared at her, and then gestured with a shaking hoof to the scars in her throat.

Carillon smiled. “Yes,” she said. “I’m the one who took your voice. And your eyes. And some other things you’ll only notice when you grow a little bit older. But I’m also the one who gave you life. From my own flesh. From an unbroken but diluted link to the Heartstrings bloodline.”

White shook her head. She knew what was coming, and she knew that she would not be able to do what would be asked of her.

Carillon’s voice began to rise with excitement, although only imperceptibly. “Now you’re faced with a paradox. To save her, you have to fight me. Refuse to fight and you lose her. My programming applies to us both- -but which will you choose?”

Carrilon’s sword emerged from its scabbard and she took it in her magic. She pointed it at Daring Do, and White threw herself in front of the stationary point.

“Self-sacrifice is not adequate. Self-sacrifice is NEVER adequate. I did not build you to be a martyr, I built you to be a tool. You are advancing my science, helping me determine how to mate your siblings for the next generation. CHOOSE, daughter. Choose or lose both of us.”

White took an angry step forward, but then another one back. She shook her head in agony, trying to clear the emotions- -but she could not escape them. She had begun to weep silently.

“Mother,” pleaded Absence. “Please. Please don’t ask this of her.”

“Please,” said another. “Mother, she loves you.”

“We all love you.”

“Please don’t hurt our sister.”

“Don’t make her strike first, she can’t.”

“None of us could.”

“Quiet,” said Carillon, calmly. “Quiet all of you.”

They obeyed. Even Absence, who had given herself a name, obeyed their mother. Yet White only did because that very same mother had taken her ability to speak. The ability to ever be heard, to say what she was feeling. To connect to another pony, whether it be Sword-horse- -who now lay unconscious and badly injured- -or Pretty-Dash, who did not even fear the fact that her heart no longer beat- -or the Wizard, who White desired nothing more than to scream obscenities at and hurt as he had hurt her.

And Daring Do. The pony that her mind called ‘mother’. Because of her real mother’s programming. It was an illusion, to both of them, and White finally understood this- -but it was a shadow as hard as iron that ran through her entire being.

They were both her mother- -but they were different. One had stood by her when others doubted her, accepted her when she was strange and violent, and done her best to protect her. A mother who had sat by a fire with her and talked about how sad life had made her. The other had done nothing but take from her- -and from her beloved brothers and sisters. One who saw her as a means toward an end. She loved both, but understood that the decision had been made.

White drew her pocket knife. She unfolded it and, with tears running from her synthetic eyes, charged Carillon.

There was a flash of orange. Horrible pain as her nervous system overloaded. White felt herself fall forward, the blade dropping from her hoof. She landed on Carillon’s shoulder. Carillon looked at her with her one eye that still saw, and then unceremoniously shoved her to the floor.

“Interesting,” she said. “How very interesting.” She sighed. “Such a waste, though.”
 

Chapter 57: Captive Rainbow

Rainbow Dash stood atop the peak of Lyskymm. Out before her stretched ruins, but instead of filling her with awe, they filled her with only sadness and shame. The wind was biting and cold, but not as cold as it had been. She did not shiver.

It had started to snow. Softly at first, but then harder- -but not so hard that it obscured her line of sight.

She stretched out her hoof, feeling the metal shifting against her grip. There was a familiar resounding snap, and then a high buzzing ring as strength and energy flowed through her. The air smelled of metal. Rainbow Dash associated that smell with something other than magic.

Something ticked inside her. Gears shifted and turned, resetting themselves. Her failing nervous system suddenly spiked with precisely measured energy far in excess of what Pegasus nerves were meant to contain.

Rainbow Dash produced a sound that was essentially a gasp mixed with a scream, and her whole body jerked and became rigid in a momentary seizure. It would have been frightening if her mind had awoken as quickly as her body; as she twisted, she was too confused to know where- -let alone who- -she was.

Then her physiology normalized, or got as close to normal as it could. She flopped to one side and moaned. “Ohhh my head,” she said. “Pinkie…how much cider did I have?”

Pinkie did not answer.

“Pinkie?” Rainbow Dash moved to sit up, only to realize that she had been bound quite extensively with rope. “PINKIE!” she cried, her voice raising several octaves. “What kind of party is THIS?!”

“It is not ‘party’. Nor am I a ‘Pinkie.’”

Rainbow Dash sat up- -or tried to. In actuality, she rolled onto her back and became stuck. Whoever had tied her had even tied her wings. She had to turn her head. When she did, she saw the gleam of silver and a pale white face with careful red eyes that watched her wearily.

“Absence!” cried Rainbow Dash, suddenly struggling. “You son-of-a-horse! You hit me! GAH! Why am I tied up in ropes? This isn’t as fun as it’s supposed to be!”

“You are in ropes because I put you into them. Don’t struggle. Some of those knots do get tighter if you do.”

“Well you can put leaves in your mane and get bucked for apples!” cried Rainbow Dash, still angry. “Where am I? Where are the others?”

Absence pointed.

Rainbow Dash turned.

She found herself in something that was to her like a storage room. It was small with slanted walls and an oddly angled ceiling. The floor had several raised altars that were inscribed with bizarre patterns, but no other materials were stored in this room. There were not even barrels.

Craning her neck, Rainbow Dash lifted her head and saw Bon Bon lying across the room in a heap. A zebra was standing over her, and when rainbow Dash looked to him his yellow eyes flicked upward to meet hers. He was holding a spear, and held a longer one on his back.

“Hey! HEY! Get your stripy hooves off of her! She isn’t good for eating!”

The eyes narrowed. “You’re clearly as stupid as a bassist/ you ugly Pegasus racist.”

“I’m not a racist! I was just pointing out- -”

“You were,” said Absence.

Rainbow Dash winced. “Yeah.” She looked at the zebra. “Sorry. But stay away from her. Please, she’s had enough.”

The zebra still eyed her suspiciously, and then stood, bracing himself on his smaller spear. His eyes met Absence’s. “It will take her time to wake up and regain feeling/but I have done the best I can with regard to her healing.”

“Thank you, zebra Zel. You may go. I would like to speak to Rainbow Dash.”

Zel bowed, but icily. He made his way toward the portal where a door would be and up several steps. On the last one, though, he turned back. “Not that one like yourself would care,” he said, “but that fight was anything but fair.”

“Whether it was fair or not is moot,” sighed Absence. “A challenge once issued must be dealt with. The Grandmaster’s word and power is absolute.”

“So I’m sure you learned very young/ to stand back, watch, and bite your tongue.”

Absence did not answer. The zebra left the room. There was no door to close, so he simply disappeared into the darkness.

Rainbow Dash groaned and struggled to sit up. As she did, she saw that Bon Bon was lying on a blanket. Though she was not moving, bandages made of leaves had been placed over her wounds, and thin strips of paper with spells written on them in colorful ink had been bound around her limbs and the bandages over her chest. A few collapsible steel bowls of potion had been left for when she woke up.

“Her bones will knit quickly,” said Absence. “And the zebra healed her organs. As an earth-pony she will heal well by definition. Their kind are remarkably durable, especially a specimen such as her.”

“She wouldn’t have to heal if dude-Lyra hadn’t beaten her that bad.” Rainbow Dash took an angry tone, but she was not nearly as angry about the situation as the zebra or Daring Do had been, or as ashamed as Absence was. Although Absence clearly did not believe what she was saying about the nature of a duel, Rainbow Dash did. And it had been an epic fight. She of course felt bad that Bon Bon had gotten beaten so badly, but that was how fights worked, whether they be in the schoolyard or with real, sharp swords.

Rainbow Dash turned slowly and gasped. At her new angle, she was suddenly able to see that not just her and Bon Bon had been warehoused in the storage room. White had also been brought in. Rainbow Dash not noticed her because she was perfectly silent and unmoving.

“White!” cried Rainbow Dash.

White looked up. She had been stripped of her armor and tied with the same series of knots that Rainbow Dash had. When she lifted her head, however, her eyelids were closed. It was apparent that there was nothing underneath them.

The dial in Rainbow Dash’s chest clicked as fury suddenly rose within her. She turned sharply to Absence. “Her eyes! What the heck did you do with her eyes?!”

“Our mother extracted them, and reclaimed them. This sister does not deserve them.”

Rainbow Dash cried out, causing White to jump from the sudden unseen noise. She struggled against the knots, but realized that Absence was right. Some of them only grew tighter. The most egregious was one placed around her neck.

“Absence,” she said. “You’re lucky you’re good at knots. Because if I wasn’t tied up, I’d kick you so hard that even the zebra wouldn’t be able to get the bruises out!”

“I don’t doubt it. But my point is not emotional or judgmental. Those eyes are property of the Order of the Red Bloom. They were a gift. My sister…White…attacked our mother. So it is our mother’s right to take away the privileges she once granted.”

“She was the one who made her blind in the first place!”

“Yes,” said Absence, coldly. “That is correct.”

“You- -you- -” Rainbow Dash stood aghast. “Absence, what happened to you?”

“Nothing, Rainbow Dash. I have always been like this.”

“My own road apples. On Lyskymm, you were nice! I thought we were friends!”

“We were,” said Absence. She lowered her head. “I wish we still could be.”

Rainbow Dash suddenly realized the pain that was etched so deeply on Absence’s fate. “We still can be. Absence, listen to me. Friends don’t do this to friends. They don’t hurt each other like this.”

“I am a tool. I was built. Born in a tank. My mind is programming. Rainbow Dash, I have to do this. It is my only purpose.”

“No it isn’t! Come on!”

Absence looked up. “Rainbow- -”

“So, yeah. We don’t agree on a lot of things. But you still know that this is wrong, don’t you?”

“It isn’t wrong.”

“Really?” cried Rainbow Dash. “You have eyes still, use them! You could have really hurt me, and then you tied me up. Bon Bon over there is in some kind of coma, and you took a teenage girl’s eyes! Is this really what you want to do?”

“No.”

“Then don’t do it!”

“It’s not that simple!” cried Absence suddenly. “I’m not like you! I don’t have the option of choice!”

“WHY NOT?!”

Absence opened her mouth, but then closed it. She could not answer the question.

“You don’t have to do what they tell you to. White didn’t.”

Absence lowered her head. “I’m afraid my little sister is much stronger than I will ever be. And I pray that she will one day forgive me, even if she will never remember me fondly.”

White neither shook her head nor nodded. She sat impassively, but her ears twitched. She was listening.

Rainbow Dash sighed. “Absence, I’m so mad at you right now.”

“I understand your hatred.”

“Shut your cake hole. Listen. I don’t hate you. I’m just angry. And I think you’re making a stupid decision. But I also get we’re on the wrong sides. It’s like…it’s like how Daring Do and Caballeron are, you know? Like, they pretend to hate each other, but secretly they have that weird tension between each other?”

“Tension? Admittedly you are quite beautiful, Rainbow Dash, but I do not share that particular feeling with you.”

“NO!” cried Rainbow Dash, blushing profusely. “Not like that! But like, you know. If things had started out different, maybe they really would be friends.”

“So…we’re not friends?”

Rainbow Dash paused. “I don’t know.”

They were all silent for a long time. Then Absence finally built up the strength to say what needed to be said.

“I’m sorry, Rainbow Dash. If you can forgive me, please remember me on Lyskymm. Not as I am now. I really did want to be your friend. Goodbye. I will not see you again.”

“Wait!” Rainbow Dash sat up suddenly. “This room- -is it going to fill up with sand? Or snakes? Or acid? Or ALL THREE?!”

Even White began to look nervous, but Absence smiled softly.

“No,” she said. “You will be fine. But I will not.”

“Absence- -if they’re going to hurt you- -”

“I was not born into this world. I was created. With a specific purpose in mind.” She smiled wider, but this time her expression was forced. “Today’s my big day, when I finally do what I was meant for.”

“Absence, I don’t understand- -”

“And I hope you never do. Stay here, where it’s safe. And if they come for White, keep her safe. I won’t escape, but she might yet. And tell your earth-pony friend that she fought admirably but chose a foe that no pony can defeat. Which is itself admirable in turn.”

A pony appeared in the entryway. A stallion. He had two red eyes, but one was a slightly different shade than the other.

“Sister,” he said. “It is time. Mother requests your presence for the final preparations.”

“Brother,” she said. She approached him and hugged him. He returned it. “Thank you. Please accompany me.”

“Of course, sister.”

They exited. Absence looked back only once more, with tears in her eyes. She ran her hoof along the doorframe, and the sandstone shifted, reconfiguring itself. It flowed across the gap and solidified into a single, unbroken mass.

“Absence!” cried Rainbow Dash. “Absence, wait! We’re not done here!”

She struggled, but the knots only got tighter. She heard White sigh.

“Hey, I tried!” protested Rainbow Dash. “And I’m not done trying…” She shifted and fell onto her side. She inched her way across the floor and to the corner of one of the alters. White could not see her, but turned her head, listening. Although she had no eyes, one eyebrow rose in confusion.

“Don’t look at me like that, White, I know what I’m doing. See, I knew something like this might happen. I’ve spent the last three years practicing getting out of knots, just like Daring Do always does!” Rainbow Dash laughed. “I have this friend, right? She owns a boat, so she knows ALL the knots, even the ones with funny names. She helped me practice. Oh mane, she must have lassoed me every single way that a Pegasus can be lassoed!” She paused, thinking for a moment as an odd realization struck her. “Actually, she seemed to really enjoy it. Way too much actually.”

Rainbow Dash twisted and turned, getting a grip and pulling the knots. They shifted, but one side of her bindings suddenly turned one way, pulling out one wing at an odd angle and twisting her into a horrific tangle. “OOOH wait! There’s a span-loop, on the back- -and is that a Zeppelin bend? Buck, I can’t get out of those without being rubbed down with apple-butter!” She paused again. “Come to think of it, Applejack realllly liked that part too. Is that weird?”

White nodded.

“Like you would know anyway. Hold on. I can get out of this. Just let me- -” She shifted again, and the knots only got worse. “Just give me a second!”

Chapter 58: The Grandmaster of the Red Bloom

Through the darkness, Daring Do found herself sitting atop a throne. What it was built of she did not know, and could not know, as the substance had no name. Her mind called it “bone”, but that was a vast oversimplification, as if the term “iron” had been used to describe the detritus that remained when civilizations had long since moved on to decayed obscurity.

She sat. Waiting. Slowly tapping her finger, the metal of the tip resounding of whatever her throne was built of. Time passed. Years innumerable, perhaps, but that hardly mattered. What time passed here was infinitesimal to the not-sleep in the void beyond nothingness.

A face arose to her. Young, naïve, but already growing cruel and vicious. A being ruled by ambition and sadism, and hatred of those who might have understood what he could not. Daring Do stood and reached out her with her hand and touched just below the smallest of his three horns. His mind shattered instantly, and he turned away- -to spatter the walls with thick silver fluid in a scene of unimaginable violence. A scene that Daring Do found endlessly hilarious.

Only a small time passed before Daring Do felt another enter her vicinity. This time she did not reach out. Not yet. There was no need to, as its presence was familiar. Familiar but badly corrupted.

She pushed it to the periphery, choosing to wait.

And wait she did. For another infinitesimal fraction of time, a mere eon of her infinite, nebulous lifetime. More came. Many could not penetrate what the mages had built, or the final watcher. One did succeed, but there was nothing left of him when he finally arrived. Nothing but a shell of gears and aging metal. He crumbled like dust with the slightest touch.

None came for so long. The way had been lost. So Daring Do reached out farther. Such a small world, but one that had changed since the fiery ruins from which it had been born.

A pony stood before her. Young, his teal body thin but fit. Such a body was by definition weak- -but his mind held such interesting things, the germ of creations and methods that would not exist for so very long. Daring Do did not simply touch him, but grasped him hard by the neck, leaving a handprint that would not fade from him or from the genomes of the bloodline that he would so desperately attempt to preserve.

Then something interesting arrived. Ones that were immune. They were small, but they could not be reached, no matter how hard Daring Do tried. They were either too foolish, to simple, or two hardheaded to respond in any meaningful way. Beings that had, like Daring Do, watched the extinction of their race- -but only because they chose that path rather than the alternative. They could not be infected, and this was something Daring Do had never seen before.

They built things. Things of unbelievable, barely comprehensible simplicity, things so primitive that Daring Do could scarcely consider them machines or magic of any sort. Yet they were effective, and once again Daring Do went to sleep- -but not forever. Half awake, she began to reach out through the holes. To leak into the world at large. To call forth any seeds she had planted that might remain, and to find new ones to grasp. To make the world a better place.

Then Daring Do saw herself standing in front of her. She reached down and gently stroked the Pegasus pony’s mane. It was soft, and her hand moved lower, through her wings. The pony shivered, and Daring Do smiled, because her escape had been guaranteed.

She awoke with a weak cry. Gasping, Daring Do leaned forward, terrified not because of where she was- -she knew where she was, with incredible and horrifying familiarity- -but because she could almost remember a horrific dream.

Yet, to her continuing horror, she realized that she could still feel the touch of something on her wings. She turned back sharply to see a pair of white, red-eyed Pegasi carefully preening her wings.

“GAH!” she cried, blushing. “GET OFF!”

She swung wildly at them, but they simply rose into the air and fluttered off. Daring Do glared at them as they did, although she realized that for the first time in a long time, her wings were neat and clean.

They were not the only things that had been cleaned. To her great surprise, Daring Do found that her shirt was now clean and pressed, and that her hair smelled fresh and had been brushed. She had not actually bathed since Singapone, and she had not realized how filthy she had been until she had found herself overwhelmingly clean and fresh.

“What the…?” She looked up across the room. She was still in the central room of the Necroforge. The power-armored Pegasi were in the process of setting up formerly collapsed equipment around the center, all while Solum Finis looked on with mild but unbending amusement.

Daring Do herself was sitting at a table. Where it had come from, she had no idea, but the streaks in the wood suggested it had come a long way through an especially powerful portal. The table itself was of little concern, though; rather, Daring Do was far more interested in who was sitting at it.

“Caballeron!”

Caballeron looked up at her, peering over a large calico cat on the table before him. A cat with dull blue-green eyes. Caballeron looked away. “Daring Do.”

His tone was strange and stilted. He was not laughing or gloating. In fact, he almost seemed to be sweating. While it was true that they were not ten yards from vats of boiling metal, Daring Do sensed something else. Sensed that he was afraid.

Caballeron was not alone. Sitting slightly behind him was a pony clad in gold. She had removed her helmet to reveal that she looked astoundingly similar to Dulcimer, apart from a black streak in her mane and one ruined, blank eye. This unicorn swiftly lifted a sugar cube from one of her supply bandoleers and began to melt and caramelize it in her magic.

“You,” growled Daring Do.

“Yes. Me.” The mare popped the caramelized sugar into her mouth, pausing to savor it. There was no change in her one orange eye to indicate a sudden rush; her tolerance must have been incredibly high.

“You tied me to a chair and had your soldiers preen me. You’re sick.”

“One: you have no idea how long it took me to train them to do that. Even if half of it is on instinct. Second: you’re not tied to anything. Take a closer look, serf.”

Daring Do looked down and found to her unmeasurable surprise that she was, in fact, not bound. She was just sitting in an oddly comfortable chair.

“Wh…what?”

“You should really tie her up,” grumbled Caballeron.

“Oh, there’s no need for that.”

They all looked up to see Dulcimer arriving. He was no longer dressed in power-armor, but rather a different sort of semi-armored garment. It actually did not look too much unlike the light armor that White had originally worn, although it was more ornate and still contained a cape. The effect was quite knightly, and had Daring Do been under any other set of situations- -namely, being tied properly- -she might have imagined that the pony wearing the armor was distinctly attractive.

Dulcimer took the seat across from Daring Do and smiled. “Your wings,” he said. “They were disheveled. It’s apparent that you have late-stage osteoarthritis, and probably a significant amount of internal scarring. You can’t even preen yourself, can you?”

Daring Do glared at him, and then found her eyes turning sharply to Caballeron. He did not smile, but looked away, embarrassed.

“No,” she said, deciding to be completely honest. “I can’t.”

“I see,” sighed Dulcimer. “Then you probably only have a few years left. Five at most. More likely three.”

“Until what?” asked Caballeron.

“Until she can’t fly.”

Caballeron fell silent. He managed to summon a laugh, but it came out soft and stifled. “So, my dear,” he said. “You are far older than your appearance betrays.”

“Yes,” said the female Questlord, “but you seem to have a preference for older mares, don’t you?”

Caballeron blushed and lowered his head in shame. Daring Do blushed a bit too, but probably for a different reason. To distract herself, she decided to face Dulcimer instead. He stared back, smiling pleasantly.

“You used me.”

“I did. But I never lied to you.”

“Like heck you didn’t.”

Dulcimer almost looked hurt. Almost. He leaned back. “When? My name really is Dulcimer, you know. Dulcimer Heartstrings. And I was, at one time, an academic. A scribe, specifically. Would you believe that my focus was originally on noting heraldic songs from the Questlord bloodline?” His expression hardened. “I resent the fact that I was forced into the life of a soldier.”

Daring Do sighed. “I know what this is,” she said.

Dulcimer raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Yeah. Because it happens every single time. This is the part where the villain explains his whole scheme and plan. And for the record? I’m usually tied up for it.”

Dulcimer laughed. It was an oddly pleasant sound. Behind him, his female counterpart- -Daring Do was sure they were related, but she did not know how- -remained violently expressionless.

“I see!” said Dulcimer. “Firstly, of course, I see no need to do something so unfitting. Especially after I cleaned your clothes and had your wings preened. But if you will notice?” He pointed upward. Daring Do looked, and saw the glint of silver in one of the upper galleries.

“You would not get very far,” he said. “And I am quite aware of the fact that you cannot injure any of us. Except perhaps him.” He pointed at Caballeron. “And he, like all of his associates, is quite expendable.”

“Meaning I’m expendable too.”

A quizzical look crossed Dulcimer’s face. “Yes. I suppose you are.”

“Then why bother telling me anything? Or is it just to gloat?”

“No. I suppose that would normally be the earth-horse’s job.” Once again he pointed at Caballeron. “But seeing as he is operating in the role of employee at the moment, I don’t think he has the right to.”

“But then why bother doing it at all?”

Dulcimer looked confused. “Because, while it may not be apparent, I do feel bad. For tricking you. I actually have some level of admiration for you. I’ve read all your books. They reminded me of what it felt like to be a colt. I have not been a colt for a long, long time.”

“So you trick me and then want to apologize for it, all because of nostalgia?”

“No,” he snapped. “Because the action though necessary was not chivalrous. And I want you to know that, although by a circuitous route, you are greatly benefiting the good of Equestria.”

“I’ve heard conflicting opinions on that. Caballeron isn’t usually on the ‘good of Equestria’ side either.”

“This is a rare case where you were actually both working on the same side. Or at least were supposed to be, even if you were not permitted to know it. And I would take certain ‘dissenting opinions’ on my and our motives with a rather large grain of salt.”

Daring Do leaned forward. “It was a ploy,” she said. “You gave both me and Caballeron half of the one clue you had.”

“But why?” asked Caballeron. He sat up, the lines in his face growing deeper as his frown expanded. “I was more than capable of translating and locating the artifact! Why not give the whole of the diagram to me?”

“You who could not find the location on your own and who I needed to extricate from what would normally have been a lethal trap?” asked the female Questlord, smiling at him. “You’re a linguist, earth-pony. A cunning one perhaps, but you are good for little else.”

“We needed competition,” explained Dulcimer. “One of you on your own would never suffice. I’ve learned that much from the books. If you were to lead us to the Hand of Doom, you needed the proper motivation.”

“But why not do it yourself?”

“Look at what was required. Do you think I could have? Especially considering that, once again, I was not lying when I said I do not read Exmoori. I was a scribe of songs, and their language was already long-dead, even nine thousand years ago.”

“Nine…thousand?” Daring Do’s eyes narrowed, and she shook her head. “That’s not possible. No pony can live that long. Not even a unicorn?”

Dulcimer laughed softly but could not meet Daring Do’s eyes. “No,” he said, simply. “Immortality is well within the reach of every pony. Assuming you are willing to pay the price.”

“And what price would that be? Flock paid with his body. What did you pay?”

Dulcimer did not answer, and Daring Do realized that she would rather not know.

“But you gave me the whole of it,” said Caballeron, slowly. “The white one. The one that’s different from the others. She brought the rest of it. Why? Why then?”

“Because of unforeseen interference.” Dulcimer pointed across the room, to where Flock was still trapped, now both in his sphere of orange light and in a cage built around it. Dulcimer sighed and shook her head. “Daring Do, it seems, is far too trusting. She allied herself with an uncontrolled player in our little game. One whose victory would bring disastrous consequences to all of Equestria.”

“I couldn’t have gotten this far without him.”

“No. Which is why I insisted on allowing you to continue. My Grand Seneschal, though…her methods are more harsh. Clinical. It’s what makes her a good scientist but a poor warrior. In her mind the only way to deal with you was to eliminate you, rather than find a more creative solution.”

“Which is why you sent White.”

“Ugh,” said the female unicorn. “You gave the defective a name?”

“She is not ‘defective’,” snapped Daring Do. “She’s just a girl- -”

“Yes. A girl I created. And one I chose to eliminate.”

Daring Do stood up suddenly, slamming her hooves on the table. She saw the spells around the female’s horn shift, but also felt the glint of red eyes from high above watching her- -and she could feel their weapons pointing at her chest from the shadows.

“Ms. Do, please,” said Dulcimer. “Sit. Here.” He raised a hoof. A Pegasus appeared beside him, holding two cups of warm fluid. “Tea,” he said. He passed one to Daring Do, and the other to Caballeron. He took none for himself.

Caballeron looked into his carefully, and smelled it.

“Worried about poison, Doctor?” asked Dulcimer, still smiling.

“N- -no,” stammered Caballeron, defensively. “Of course not.”

“Of course not indeed. Poison is very cowardly. If I wanted you gone, I would look into your eyes while I did the deed.”

Caballeron gulped, and then took a sip of his tea. Daring Do did as well, finding that it was oddly pleasant, for tea. A slight metallic taste betrayed the fact that it was magic, though; the fluid in the cups was most likely just water with a powerful glamour. Despite knowing this, she took another sip- -but never took her eyes off Dulcimer.

“It’s impressive,” she said.

“The tea?”

“No. The act.”

“Ah. Yes. Well, I’ve had experience. And playing an academic is not hard for me.”

“No, not that. Right now. Smiling, being cheerful. Offering tea. Like you’re pretending to be a good, kind knight. But you’re not, are you? Underneath all of that, you’re no different from her.” She pointed at the female Questlord. “You’re just better at hiding it.”

Dulcimer’s expression fell, to the point where it actually became frightening. “How perceptive. Well. For the sake of honesty, then. Yes. I’ve had to do terrible things for my ideals. And I will continue to do so until my goals are realized. Perhaps I was nice and knightly once. But your society doesn’t exactly allow for that, does it?”

“Ideals. Goals. What are they?”

“The good of Equestria.”

“No, that’s a platitude.”

Dulcimer smiled. Softly, but sincerely. “I rarely have met a pony who realizes that.”

“So then what is your real goal?”

Dulcimer stood up. He took several steps, pacing, and then gestured to the room around them. “Tell me, Daring Do. This room. This device, this apparatus. It once all belonged to the Exmoori.” He turned to her. “But where are the Exmoori now?”

“You already know the answer to that. They’re extinct.”

“Yes, but why?”

Daring Do did not have a satisfactory answer, but it seemed that Dulcimer did not expect them.

“The answer is simple. Celestia came to them, as she did all the great races of ponies. I existed in the tail end of their history. The Exmoori were a proud race. Their civilization revolved around freedom, honor, self-reliance, courage- -and ancient traditions. Things that did not fit with Celestia’s vision of a perfect, harmonized Equestria.” He turned his cold orange eyes toward Daring Do and met hers. “So she systematically exterminated them. For the good of Equestria.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“And yet you read the tablet. I saw, though your eyes. You know as well as I do that it was true.”

“So what?” asked Daring Do suddenly. “So your plan is to get revenge for an extinct race that you aren’t even part of?”

“Yes, but only incidentally. You see, the Exmoori were not the only ponies that Celestia needed to eliminate to create her vision of a kinder, gentler Equestria. My people also stood in her way.”

“The Questlords.”

Dulcimer nodded. “Our order is ancient. It predates her. By far. I predate her by far. It goes back so far that there would have been ponies among our founders who would have recognized what those statues in front of the Necroforge were meant to represent, and shuddered at their visage.”

He walked back to his chair and sat down. He was silent for a long moment before he started speaking again. “Ironically, we ourselves were dedicated to the good of Equestria too. But not the platitude. Not the half-empty, precarious world that Celestia offered. We showed our loyalty to our cause and ancestors by our deeds. Defeating foul monsters, defending against dark wizards, protecting the innocent and the weak. We were knights. We were knights…”

“You still are,” said Daring Do. “The Questlords still exist- -”

“Yes,” snapped Dulcimer, his eyes suddenly narrowing. “Oh yes. There are descendants. Diluted remnants of our bloodlines, some of whom still remember what we once were. And they sit in the shadows. Unwilling to step out, to risk themselves. They would rather wait until the Galactic Cry, until the return of the Witchlord before they act. They care little about the war we fought. That I fought.”

“Any war you fought is over. It has been over, for thousands of years.”

“And yet the visions don’t stop!” cried Dulcimer. “I don’t sleep! I haven’t in so, so long, but the dreams, I can still feel them! Of the faces of my mother, and father, and of my siblings…did you know that I was the third youngest of eighteen? Eighteen children! I was never meant for anything other than accumulating traditional song- -but I took the blood-mantle anyway. Because there was nopony else left to otherwise.”

He put his head in his hooves and sighed. “My friends. My comrades. Ponies I loved, dearly. We refused to bow to her. To disband at her order. Our heritage, our identity, our purpose…I try to tell myself that it was worth it. Sometimes I don’t know.”

“Tough.”

Dulcimer’s eyes shot upward. “Excuse me?”

“I’m really sorry about what you lost,” said Daring Do, slowly, “but you can’t change what happened. Nothing you can do will change it. If you really are as old as you say you are, you’re a relic yourself. A piece of history.”

“Something that you would put in a museum,” muttered Caballeron.

“Only because it’s something outside of the modern age.” Daring Do paused. “All of that…it’s like a relic in an old temple. It was once the most important thing in the world to somepony, but even if it’s still beautiful and proud, the temple is old. The ponies are gone. Whatever purpose it served, the world has moved on.”

Dulcimer’s eyes narrowed. “I never expected you to be such a fatalist.”

“She is not incorrect,” said the female Questlord.

“Says the pony who devoted her life and sacrificed two limbs to make this dream possible.”

“And what dream would that be?” asked Daring Do. “Are you going to try to blot out the sun like the Exmoori, or to use this thing as political leverage?”

Dulcimer stared at her. “You seem incredulous that I could do either.”

“Because you can’t.”

“Well. If you must know, I intend to do neither. Nothing so gauche or grand. I simply intend to win the war. To strike a final blow. To end Celestia’s tyranny.”

“By unleashing a doomsday weapon?”

“By doing what I have to do.” He sighed. “Celestia’s experiment is a failure. I’ve lived a long, long time. I’ve watched Equestria atrophying for centuries. Ponies were not meant to be ruled by immortal, unchanging gods.”

“I see. So it would be better to have a unicorn king, perhaps? A King Dulcimer the First?”

Dulcimer chuckled humorlessly. “No. I am certainly not fit for the position. I will not rule. Nor do I care who does. But the world needs new ideas. To move on, so to speak. Not to ossify and decay while alicorns decide the natures of our lives ‘for the good of Equestria’.”

“A world where the Questlords can persist,” added the female unicorn. “Where we can return to our former glory, and rally the remaining bloodlines around the Order of the Red Bloom.”

“So that’s it. You want to get your knights back. And you’re willing to put Equestria into chaos to do it.”

“Chaos?” Dulcimer stood up again. “I would be putting Equestria into a state of chaos? Really. Do you know how much was lost in the Nightmare War? I do. Because I was there. A spat about one precious goddess thinking she’s not appreciated. A childish tantrum. Where pony lives hang in the balance.”

“That isn’t- -”

“And there’s a certain hypocrisy to it all, isn’t there? That the gods preach a world ruled by peace, love, and harmony, and yet whenever there is any sort of deviation they cast all of that aside ‘for the good of Equestria’. The Exmoori, the Questlords. Nightmare moon, even, or perhaps Sombra, who they murdered twice? I find myself wondering, how long until the next bright sprig of growth deviates from their perfectly crafted society? Who will have to be destroyed then?”

“Nightmare Moon and Sombra were evil. You know that.”

“That is what you have been told, yes. But were they really destroyed because they were evil? Or was it because they challenged Celestia’s divine Vision?”

“Now you’re just being obtuse.”

“Were the Exmoori evil? Were my brothers and sisters? Am I?”

“You are,” said Daring Do, looking him in the eyes- -and slowly turning to his female counterpart. “If only for what you did to White.”

“Our end is pure,” said Dulcimer, calmly. “Certain means are required to justify it. I’m not proud of that.”

“Oh, the old ‘the ends justify the means’. Like this is the first time I’ve heard that one.”

“And it may not be the last. Regardless. I don’t mind if you disagree with me. Our lives were vastly different, so of course we’ll have different views of the world. My goal was never to convince you. Simply to explain why I am doing what I am doing.”

“And what is it exactly you’re doing?” She looked at the pulsating violet sphere in the center of the room. The one that, for the moment, still safely contained the Hand of Doom. “Let me guess. It’s vengeance, isn’t it? So you’re going to try to off Celestia.”

Caballeron inhaled sharply. He held his cat tightly. “Lord Knight,” he said, speaking the honorific as though his mouth were stuffed with manure. “I’ll admit that I’m willing to do just about anything for monetary gain. I pride myself in it, in fact. But slaying on of the Divine Alicorns- -that’s too far.”

Dulcimer turned slowly and Caballeron shrank from him. “Really.” He then laughed softly. “Not that you could stop me, could you? Alas, do not worry, servant-doctor. Even after all this time, I abhor violence. The Exmoori were warriors. I am not. I intend to resolve this peacefully in a way that none of the rest of the Red Bloom could have conceived.”

“I doubt that,” said Daring Do.

“As would I,” admitted Dulcimer. “Don’t get me wrong. She deserves it. And so much more. The one called Luna does as well, to a lesser extent, but at least she showed us kindness at least once. I should demand Celestia’s head. But instead, I’ll be content with her godhead alone.”

“Godhead?”

Dulcimer nodded, suddenly seeming excited that he was able to demonstrate his true plan. “Yes. That is what I intend to do. To use my own Necroforge to revoke the godhead of all alicorns. Celestia, Luna, Cadence, Twilight Sparkle, even little Flurry Heart. The effect will be instantaneous and painless. They will simply cease to be alicorns.”

“That…” Daring Do stopped herself. She was about to say that it did not sound especially evil at all- -but she knew that at its core, it was.

“Of course, Cadence, Twilight, and the child have not wronged me. Or anypony. They would perhaps make great rulers. But the existence of immortals cannot be permitted, lest one rise up and become a new Celestia.”

“But without their power- -”

“They would simply be another type of pony. A natural type. Unicorns, perhaps, but maybe Pegasi. Even earth-ponies. And I would of course not interfere with their power beyond that. They would continue out their rule for the rest of their natural-born lifespans. And then it would be passed on. To a line of rulers, some good, some bad, but rulers who can let the world progress in the way it is meant to.”

“And who will be more forgiving toward our Order,” noted the Grand Seneschal. “Ones that will allow us to conduct our operations without interference.”

Daring Do looked at them both. Then she smiled herself. “Well, then, who?”

Dulcimer blinked. “Excuse me?”

“All of this work. But who are you actually protecting? That is your purpose, isn’t it?”

Dulcimer stared back, and then smiled. “You won’t live long enough to know. Not because you will come to harm, I promise that, for now. But because you just aren’t capable of it.”

He stood up. “We’re done for now, I think. If you would be so kind as to excuse me, I have some final preparations to make. I will need your help in a little bit.” He looked at Caballeron. “Yours as well.” He then bowed to Daring Do, and nodded to the Grand Seneschal.

The female unicorn stood up. She approached the table. The cat hissed at her, but she ignored it. “The Grandmaster has extended his word that you will not be harmed,” she stated, “however, this predicates on you behaving reasonably, as I never made such a promise. Interfering with our work will be taken as an insult, and I will be within my chivalric rights demand compensation.”

“I’m not paying you,” said Caballeron, as if she had been speaking to him.”

She ran her hoof across the back of his neck, making him shiver. The cat on the table leapt up toward her, claws raised, but she suspended it harmlessly in magic. “I do not enjoy money. You’re compensation will be different from hers. Hers would be…more messy.”

“I will stop you,” said Daring Do.

“Attempt to do so and you will end. As will your friends. And my daughter, the one you insist on calling ‘White’. As a token of my resolve.” She removed an object from her belt and set it on the table. To Daring Do’s horror, she realized that it was an artificial eye. One of White’s.

“You horseson,” she swore, standing up.

“The warning has been given,” snapped the unicorn. “Do not attempt to interfere. Do not attempt to escape. We will complete our work, and you- -and your friends- -will be free.”

“And I will be paid?” asked Caballeron.

“No.”

The mare’s helmet reappeared around her head, projecting and assembling itself from the high collar of her armor. She then departed, dropping Caballeron’s cat on the table.

Daring Do watched her leave, and then turned slowly to Caballeron. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

“Believe me,” he said snidely, “I know exactly what I’ve done. And who they are. And what they’re capable of.”

“I don’t think they do.”

The cat turned to her. “They tore off my wings,” it said.

Daring Do grimaced, somewhat horrified. Surely the appendages did not have the same significance to changelings as they did to Pegasi- -but she quickly realized that she had no idea if that was even remotely true.

“Do you know what will happen if they get the Hand?”

“Of course I know. I won’t get paid.”

“That’s not what I mean, you idiot!”

Caballeron glared at her, and then stood up himself. “I don’t have control.”

“No. You’re just as trapped as I am. You’re just not willing to try to do anything about it.”

“No. I actually intend to survive this.”

He left. Daring Do stood up as well, folding her wings neatly behind her. They hurt, but admittedly felt better since they had been preened. Her jacket had been folded beneath her chair, but she did not put it on. The room was chilly for the most part, but hot near the metal coolant.

She began walking. It was an odd sensation, one that defied both reason and common knowledge. Under any normal circumstances, she would have been bound and perhaps left in a trap of some sort. Instead, she had been permitted to walk around freely while her enemies prepared to take the artifact that she was also after. Either the Questlords were too nice, or incredibly arrogant- -or, more terrifyingly, perhaps exactly as effective as they claimed to be.

Not that there were that many Questlords. Daring Do had come to the conclusion that only the two unicorns were actually Questlords, while the rest were more like ambivalent workers. Daring Do did not know how the Pegasi was controlled, if it was simply training, allegiance, a noble lie, or something more sinister. Not that it seemed to matter. They passed by her with ease, largely ignoring her as they performed their tasks.

At the same time, though, Daring Do could feel them watching her. From the ground and from the galleries above, always prepared should she attempt something foolish. And they were right. She would, eventually, attempt something extremely, profoundly foolish. She just needed time to think up what it would be.

While deciding, she made her way to where Flock had been contained. He was lying at the bottom of his sphere, and as she approached he turned to her. She was surprised to see that he looked distinctly equine. His eyes, though still yellow, were in a reasonable place, and he seemed to have teeth. Daring Do did not understand if the form he normally took was simply an aesthetic choice or if this was a side-effect of his containment. Nor did she especially care.

“Flock,” she said.

“What do you want? To gloat?”

“To gloat? About what?”

“That you’re on the outside and I’m trapped in here like a filthy animal.”

“Flock. I’m just as trapped as you are. I can’t get out of here either, or get to the Hand.”

“But your state is far more dignified than a feather-bearer deserves. They could have at least tied your wings together.”

“Thanks, I’ll remember that,” muttered Daring Do.

“No you won’t. You’re clearly not good at your job. I almost had it. I was THIS close.” He put his front hooves a few centimeters apart. “And now I’m in a bubble.”

“And Sweetie Drops was almost beaten into a coma. Rainbow Dash is tied up somewhere. And they took White’s eyes.”

“I don’t care about any of that, they’re all expendable. Actually it was pretty funny watching the vedmak girl get beaten. But that’s not the point.” He looked through his bubble. “There isn’t much time. Those machines are measuring equipment and stabilizers. They’re going to open it soon. I have to get out.”

“Do you know a spell?”

“I can. Easily. Or could. If I had my DIAL.”

“Rainbow Dash still has it,” said Daring Do. Then a thought occurred to her. “Although…”

“Although what?”

“Is there any chance Rainbow Dash could use the dial?”

Flock stared at her aghast, and then shook his head vehemently. “No. No, not a chance. Using the device requires a grasp of mathematics and engineering far beyond anything that any ordinary pony would be able to comprehend, even for the simplest tasks. She’s an unevolved moron but even she’s not idiotic or reckless enough to attempt something so incredibly, unimaginably foolhardy.”
 

Chapter 59: Harvestor of Sorrow

The dial clicked as Rainbow Dash turned one of its numerous intricate disks. Her ability to escape knots had not been as good as she had expected, and the best she had been able to do was to free one of her hooves. Not even a front one. She was turning the dial with one of her rear legs.

“Thank Celestia’s butt I’m flexible,” she said, craning her neck to try to see what she was doing. She had already broken one of the central cogs at least, and perhaps a few more. Another time she had almost passed out; in fact, whenever the dial ticked in certain positions, she could feel her body responding with changes in physiology. It was an odd sensation.

The dial suddenly clicked and the central moonstone was exposed.

“HA!” cried Rainbow Dash. She looked at White. “Did you see that?”

White glared at her. Or would have, if she had still possessed eyes.

“Oh,” said Rainbow Dash. “Sorry. Well, if you could see…and talk…you’d be telling me how awesome I am! I’m sure this will work!”

White raised an eyebrow. Or Rainbow Dash thought she did; her eyebrows were as white as the rest of her.

“Don’t be so negative! Come on, what’s the worst that could happen?”

She turned the dial, raising the moonstone slightly. “I’ll be back in a second. Just got to save Daring Do, defeat the Questlords, and grab the Hand of Doom. Oh mane this is gonna be cool!”

She then kicked the center of the dial.

The effect was instantaneous and immediate. Rainbow Dash was overcome by a sense of falling, and of the world inverting, all moving in an instant. Instinctively, she tried to compensate by turning her wings and moving her legs, as if she were falling from a height or had just been lunched from a dizzitron. Of course, she had not actually fallen; the result was that she simply flailed on her back on the ground, pulling up clouds of dust and ash.

Confused- -and slightly embarrassed- -she sat up. There were no longer ropes around her, because she was no longer in the same place. Or was, but not in the same way.

The land was dull and gray, and the air- -if there even was air- -seemed to lack any specific temperature. The sky was dark, and any light in the world seemed to come from the luminescent ash that was slowly drifting downward from the sky, forming small and silent drifts across the ground.

Rainbow Dash stood up. There was a path before her, indicated by a space where the floor was made of something like brick and by large, obliquely placed stone-like hoops that had been placed obliquely over it. Beyond the path stood enormous but long-dead trees. They looked like they might even have been fossilized. Something that was not trees grew on their crowns, reaching upward toward the sunless sky. Rainbow Dash was glad she could not see what it was.

“Well at least there’s no ropes,” she said. She took a step forward and winced. “Even though I seem to be out one lung. And a ventricle, whatever that is.” She paused to catch her breath. Her body in this phase was still as pale and damaged as it had been before. Her joints hurt and she could feel strange things shifting inside her when she walked. The dial in her chest, though, had stopped clicking. In the same way that White had never lost her eyes or voice when in this phase, Rainbow Dash had never been poisoned. Not by iocane, at least.

Then she stood. “Okay,” she said. “So, this world corresponds with the regular one. So all I need to do is walk out of this room and exactly where Daring Do is, then snap back.” She looked down at the dial, and to her dismay the moonstone had already started to corrode. It had enough power for the return trip, but not a second jump. She would only have one chance.

“Except that I was asleep when they brought me here,” she said. “So I don’t know where HERE actually is.” She looked out into the ash-filled landscape. “Annnnd I’m talking to myself again.” She heard something move in darkness. She turned, but saw only long hoofsteps through the ash. As if a pony had been dragged. “At least I hope I’m talking to myself.”

“You aren’t,” said a soft voice over her shoulder.

Rainbow Dash turned. An alicorn was standing at least twenty feet behind her, its large eyes glimmering in some unseen light. It was thin and sickly, but oddly familiar. Rainbow Dash realized why. Its skin- -it had no fur- -was pale blue, and the thin mane it wore had dull rainbow stripes in it.

“Well, it’s good to know I have fans even over here,” said Rainbow Dash as she slowly backed away.

The alicorn smiled, and it moved. It did not walk, exactly, but rather seemed to float, suspended by its own magic as its hooves dragged through the top layer of ash. As it came closer, it began to materialize. The colors became more intense and saturated, until it stood before her looking just like a sickly, exceedingly tall and gaunt alicorn version of herself. Two more also appeared. Both of them had the same color scheme, but they remained ghostly and distant. Beyond them only eyes watched from the shadows.

Rainbow Dash took another step back. The alicorn’s smile grew. Now that she was solid, Rainbow Dash could see her teeth. They had no analog to any animal she knew of.

“Yeah, I’m out of here.”

Rainbow Dash took off, soaring through the archways that made up the path. She immediately realized that doing so was a mistake. Her body felt incredibly heavy, and her one remaining lung burned. She felt a cold chill run down her spine. All the effort she had expended to keep herself physically fit meant nothing in this world. This was what it would be like if it was all taken from her. That she could fly with all the speed and grace of an especially well-fed Fluttershy. It was her worst fear in the whole world.

Unable to continue, she dropped, landing in a pile of ash that went up to her knees. She began to run, or at least try to. It was not easy. The material resisted her motion with every step, and there were hard things in it. Hard things that Rainbow Dash quickly realized were bones.

She turned back, looking into the void, and realized that the alicorns following her were gone. They had just vanished. In fact, she began to doubt if they had ever been there at all. Her heart was beating, and beating wrong. It hurt. This place was getting to her, and she began to wonder if she had made a horrible mistake.

Carefully, she turned back to the path- -only to find that the hoops marking were beginning to end. Rainbow Dash could see them for another fifty meters or so, rising up a distant hill. As they went, they decayed, until they were nothing more than corroded gray pylons. They had been abandoned for an incredible span of time, and nopony had bothered to repair them.

“Well buck me…” sighed Rainbow Dash, feeling herself on the verge of collapse.

“I’d rather not.”

Rainbow Dash turned to face the alicorn that was now standing beside her. There were not tracks that led up to her, and her hooves seemed to rest on the ash without leaving an indentation.

“GAH!” Rainbow Dash did not know what else to do. She instead acted on her pure, keen Pegasus instincts- -and punched the alicorn in the chest.

What she hit was not flesh. At least it did not feel like flesh. It was more like punching an overripe melon. There was something hard on the outside like a rind, and then something inside that was sickly, soft, and cold. To her horror, Rainbow Dash realized that her fist had gone in up to the elbow.

“S- -sorry! Whoa, I didn’t mean to do that!”

Her apology was interrupted by a sudden smell. Not a bad one, but defiantly not a good one either. Rainbow Dash had smelled a lot of things in her life, but had no idea how to even categorize what this alicorn suddenly smelled like.

Fluid dripped past her hoof. It was pale and yellow. Then she felt something move. Segmented, metallic tendrils emerged from the wound, crawling up her hoof.

“Would you kindly remove your hoof from my chest?”

Rainbow Dash did not need to be told twice. When she did, it left an enormous hole. She saw the glimmer of metal- -a lot of metal, including gnarled trunks that met with the worm-like tendrils- -and flesh that would have been more at-home in an anemic citrus fruit than inside a pony.

“Sorry.”

“Please refrain from striking us. We do not feel pain. But we do not enjoy injury either.”

The edges of the would suddenly began to move. Rainbow Dash watched as in less than a second it closed and repaired without even a semblance of a scar.

“What- -what even are you?”

The alicorn looked down at her with large, violet eyes. “A pony.”

“Then who were you?”

This question seemed to amuse the alicorn. “No one. Unlike yourself.”

Rainbow Dash took a step back, and fell up to her body in the ash. The alicorn only stared, as she had no eyelids.

“Things decay quickly here,” said the alicorn. “This place once thrived. But just as in your world, it has ended.” The tip of her horn ignited, and Rainbow Dash was forced to turn away. For some reason the blue light it produced hurt her inside in a way that she did not understand.

Suddenly she fell, landing hard on a path made of a single piece of endless green stone. The ash rustled and dispersed into the air, assembling itself instead as a kind of lightly glowing and foul-smelling fog.

“Why did you do that? Now I can’t see.”

“Of course you can. I have left your retinas intact. Until next week.”

“Wh- -what?”

“You always do well in surgery. Which is why I like you.” She started walking. Not floating this time, at least not completely. Her legs were at least moving, but her motion was that of something that had no mass despite her clear solidity.

“Wait! Where are you going?”

“Abandoned areas become home to aberrations. And you do not have the dead-mage to protect you this time.”

“Protect me from what, exactly?”

“From aberrations.” She paused. “And from me.”

Rainbow Dash frowned and stiffened, ready to attack. The alicorn was clearly fragile, but Rainbow Dash had no idea if it was even possible to fight whatever it was.

“Are you going to fight me?” asked the alicorn, cocking her head. Somehow it wasan immensely grotesque action.

“Maybe. Are you going to try to hurt me?”

“Yes. But not right now. You are Rainbow Dash. The Element of Loyalty, and the Rainbow-Bearer. You are much beloved by Dagon.”

“And what exactly is ‘Dagon’? And does ‘beloved’ mean I’m going to have to give birth to weird fish-pony hybrids?”

“You misunderstand Dagon’s nature. But I cannot explain it. Your language has evolved to the point where it lacks the necessary vocabulary.”

“So I’m not going to have to give birth to fish-pony hybrids?”

“No.”

“Okay. Good. That’s a good start.” Rainbow Dash relaxed, but only slightly. “So what are you going to do?”

The alicorn began moving. Rainbow Dash understood that she was meant to follow. “You represent a considerable investment of resources,” she said. “I have expended a considerable amount of work studying you.”

Rainbow Dash froze. “My lungs- -you did this, didn’t you?!”

“Yes,” said the alicorn, calmly. “Among other things.”

“You’re insane! This- -”

“Never once hurt you, did it? Perhaps you felt it a little. A strange ache with no explanation. A sharp pain with no apparent source that seems of no consequence at the time. Maybe a thin mark here or there that fades quickly without a scar.” She looked down at Rainbow Dash. Her irises were violet, like Rainbow Dash’s, but her pupils were deep blue. “We are out of phase, and can never coexist. This is as close as we can normally come to your world. You do not feel what we do here. No pony is meant to come to this place.”

“Well, I did.”

“Clearly. And now that you are here, I cannot allow my work to be ruined.”

“Meaning what, exactly?”

“Meaning I’m willing to suspend protocol, if only for a brief time. To get you back where you need to be, unharmed and largely whole. So that we can continue the experiments.”

Rainbow Dash shivered, but she did not see many other alternatives. “Do you have a name?” she asked. It had almost become an instinct. If things were going badly, she had to at least try to use the power of friendship.

“We all have the same name. We are Harvestor.”

The other two rainbow-maned alicorns appeared beside them. Their bodies still remained distinctly non-solid; they had not materialized properly. Nor did they speak.

Chapter 60: Deactivation of the Sphere

Two of the white Pegasi approached Daring Do. Both had their masks retracted. One was female and looked exactly like white. The other was male, although the resemblance was still uncanny.

“Miss,” said the female. “The Grandmaster respectfully requests your presence.”

Daring Do stared up at her, almost disbelieving. Then- -with some difficulty- -she started to stand up. The stallion of the pair held out his hoof and helped her.

“Thanks.”

“Your welcome, miss.”

Daring Do stared at him, and then at the mare. “Okay. It’s nice that you’re polite, it really is, but this just isn’t normal. Normally the villain ties me up and acts like a horn longer than they are tall.”

“Neither of us have horns,” said the mare, confused.

“Never mind,” said Daring Do.

“Our fundamental purpose is to defend Equestria and the ponies within it,” said the male. “That includes you.”

“Also, we like your wings,” said the female. Her brow furrowed as she tried to think. “We like…you. Admiration, perhaps?”

“Oh,” said Daring Do, feeling even more uncomfortable. “Well. Sure. Thanks. So. What did the Grandmaster want to speak to me about?”

“We were not told,” said the mare. She and her brother flanked Daring Do and led her forward, toward the center of the room. “Nor do we need to know. We likely do not have the capacity to understand.”

“Of course you do,” said Daring Do.

The mare looked at her, and then back ahead. “Of course, miss.”

There was a momentary pause. “So,” said Daring Do. “Do you two have names?”

“No,” they replied in unison. Then once again they were silent.

Dulcimer was waiting for them when they arrived, as was Carillon, his lieutenant. Standing with them was Caballeron and a short but harsh-looking earth-pony wearing a complicated leather vest and shorts. Daring Do immediately recognized her as the changeling.

“Daring Do,” said Dulcimer, bowing slightly. “We are progressing ahead of schedule. With your help, we should have the ritual complete in only a matter of a half hour or so.”

“Ritual?”

“A formality,” said Carillon dismissively. “More complicated than you could understand.”

“Please, come this way,” said Dulcimer. He led them up a set of small grated stairs onto the ancient Exmoori catwalks that led over the molten gallium. Daring Do hesitated, but the white mare beside her reassured her, pointing out wordlessly that despite its age and being surrounded by corrosive alloy the metal was in perfect condition- -and that the Grandmaster himself was willing to walk upon it.

Daring Do nodded and climbed up the catwalk. Below it was a much more ancient arch of sandstone, its pattern complex and glimmering in the dim light of the metal below. It looked like a mirror, and she could see her face reflected in it.

“You too, doctor,” said Dulcimer, looking over her shoulder. “And your assistant.”

“Me? Why? Lord Knight, I don’t understand- -”

Dulcimer’s expression suddenly grew cold. “I do not intend to ask again, earth-pony. Walk.”

Caballeron was pushed from behind by one of the armored Pegasi. Not hard, of course, or even maliciously, they just drove him forward.

“We’re both prisoners,” said Daring Do. She wished she could gloat, but any joy in it had gone out of her. She sensed that something bad was about to happen.

The catwalk suddenly gave a light shudder. Daring Do looked behind her and saw that Solum Finis had climbed onto it as well. The catwalk was as wide as the arch below it, which was more than wide enough for his enormous form. He eyed Daring Do and smiled.

“I wish to see this,” he said.

Caballeron looked up at the Argasis and went pale. Any possibility of an escape was ruined by the mass of living silver behind him. The only option was to go forward, toward the pulsating sphere in the center of the room.

The journey was surprisingly long, and Daring Do found herself staring at the pools below her.

“Huh,” she said. “They really are shaped like a flower.”

“They are,” said Solum Finis. “Although I have not seen a flower in so long. Not since I came here.”

Caballeron was walking directly beside Daring Do. He looked at her with absolute contempt. “Flowers,” he muttered. “You’re thinking of flowers while we’re walking to…to…”

“To what?” Daring Do eyed him. “You know something.”

“I know more about this machine than you do. Because I was actually able to read it. And what he is planning…it cannot be good.”

The changeling put her hoof on his side, stroking it gently. “It’s going to be okay, herr-doktor,” she said. “As much as it wounds your noble pride, we need to do as they say. Just for now.”

The group suddenly stopped. Daring Do was led to Dulcimer’s side. Ahead of her, she could see the sphere, now up close. The hissing, electrical grinding as it swelled and then slowly collapsed into itself was almost unbearable even at a distance of almost ten meters. From this height, she could see that the central platform was actually quite large, and contained a number of altars built on the sandstone. They linked to machinery that led upward into the room, or outward and downward into a system of cables and pipes. Several corroded pylons stood at the edges of the sphere, and several more had been affixed to the ceiling. Most of the linkages, though, seemed to go downward. Downward to where the true elements of the Necroforge had no doubt been assembled.

“Do you feel that?” asked Dulcimer.

Daring Do nodded. She did. A sharp pain between her eyes, and a strong horrid taste in her mouth. The air was saturated with magic, and the ion field was arcing through it viciously.

“That is a magical suppression field. It neutralizes any magical source on approach. I cannot approach it. You, however, can.”

“To do what? I’m not exactly a wizard.”

“No, but you have interface authorization over this whole facility. As well as the ability to read Exmoori. Those altars at the bottom are control systems. You need to deactivate the field.”

“I barely read Exmoori,” noted Daring Do. “Wouldn’t Flock be a better choice for this?”

Dulcimer smiled. “Yes. But, conceivably, it would be possible to interfere with the controls in a way that would harm us, either with the field or the Hand itself. Essentially to betray us. If we send the wizard, there is a high probability he would simply take the Hand for himself. We have no leverage over him.”

Daring Do stiffened. “But you do over me?”

Dulcimer’s smile grew. He nodded to the rear. Daring Do looked. As she watched, Solum Finis raised one of his enormous silver wings. Three ponies stepped through. Two were guards, but a third was identical to them: save for the fact that she walked with her eyes half-closed, and the fact that there were no eyes beneath her lids.

“White!” cried Daring Do. She rushed to the girl’s side. “White, I’m sorry!” She looked White over for injuries. She was nude, so it was not hard. There were no bruises. Just the loss of her eyes. “It’s going to be okay,” she said, putting her hoof on White’s shoulder. “I think I can get your eyes back, if- -”

An orange field of light suddenly appeared around White, and she was lifted into the air. Daring Do looked over her shoulder to see Dulcimer’s horn glowing.

“Don’t,” she pleaded. “You don’t have to do this.”

“I don’t want to,” admitted Dulcimer, “but I assure you. It is necessary.”

He turned his head slightly, and White was lifted up over the low rails of the catwalk- -and suspended directly over the pools of molten metal below. As if sensing the heat or the situation, she opened her mouth to cry out- -but no words came out.

“Put her down!”

Carillon smiled. “I think the better request is for us NOT to put her down.”

Daring Do glared, and then stomped toward Carillon, making the whole of the catwalk shake. “She’s your daughter!”

“She is expendable. They all are. I can always make more.”

Daring Do raised her hoof to slap Carillon, and Carillon did not even recoil- -because a simple blow would never injure her. She was simply too old and too powerful.

“You will join Caballeron and open the field,” said Dulcimer. He spoke slowly and clearly, delivering his ultimatum with care. “Or I will be forced to drop Ms. White into the coolant. It would be quite quick. Simple splash, and then…nothing.”

“I need your word,” said Daring Do.

“My word?”

“Your word as a knight. That if I do what you say, you won’t hurt her.”

“Of course. While that was implied, your request is prudent. I give you my word as a Questlord of Inverness, as founder of the Order of the Red Bloom, and as a member of the Heartstrings bloodline. Help us complete our quest, and we will return this clone to your possession unharmed.”

“A heavy oath,” said Carillon. “I would have just dropped her.”

“Which is why you are not the Grandmaster,” said Dulcimer, softly.

“True.”

Dulcimer turned to Caballeron. “You will assist her, Doctor. Your knowledge of the language is more substantial. She will need your help.”

A glimmer crossed Caballeron’s eyes. One that Dulcimer had no doubt missed, but that Daring Do knew well.

“Of course,” he said, stepping forward. “I would be glad to assist. After all, I was contracted to do so, wasn’t I.”

“Indeed you were.” Dulcimer nodded to Carillon, and Carillon smiled.

There was a scream as the changeling was lifted into the air by an orange field of light. It was not the gentle, all-encompassing spell that Dulcimer had used on White. Instead, Carillon had grasped her by the neck.

“Argiopé!” cried Caballeron.

The changeling tried to respond, but Carillon squeezed tighter, expanding her spell as she did. The changeling’s eyes bugged out, and then her exterior appearance began to break down. She struggled, clawing at her neck, but in a matter of seconds she had been reduced to a black, generic changeling. The only unique fact about her was that her wings had been reduced to tiny translucent stubs, stubs that buzzed wildly and uselessly as she was held aloft.

“Dok- -tor!” she wheezed. Carillon responded by levitating her out over the vats of metal. Argiopé, upon seeing them, screamed and struggled, if only out of pure instinct.

“How dare you!” cried Caballeron, approaching Carillon. “How DARE you! I have been nothing but loyal to you, and THIS is how you repay me?!”

Dulcimer put his hoof on Caballeron’s shoulder. Caballeron stiffened.

“Daring Do was not the only one we put a tracing spell on. I’m well aware that you were planning to betray us.”

Caballeron pushed him away. “Only because you have no sense of professionalism!” he spat. With a harrumph, he turned away. “Drop her in. I don’t care.”

“N- -no! Doktor! Caballeron, please no! I’m too pretty!”

“Fine,” shrugged Carillon. She released her spell. Argiopé plummeted. Daring Do heard a splash and saw the liquid gallium ripple.

“Great,” sighed Solum Finis. “Now my coolant is contaminated.”

Caballeron screamed. He ran to the edge so fast that Daring Do had to grab him to keep him from falling in himself.

“ARGIOPÉ!” he cried, reaching out desperately. “No! You didn’t, you can’t- -”

“Stop! STOP! There’s nothing you can do!”

“You monsters! MONSTERS!” He turned around and swung at Carillon. She dodged easily and struck him in the chest with a light surge of magic. Caballeron gasped and doubled over in pain. “How could you,” he still managed to whisper. “She…she didn’t deserve that.” He shook his head, and then much more quietly. “It should have been me…”

“Carillon,” sighed Dulcimer. “You’ve made your point.”

“Have I?”

“Yes.”

Carillon sighed, and the gallium rippled again. Over the edge, Daring Do saw the changeling emerge, unburnt and covered in a gleaming orange spell. She had fallen completely silent and balled up, shaking and silently weeping.

“Argiopé!” gasped Caballeron.

She looked up at him. “Cab…Caballeron?”

“Hold on, Argiopé. Don’t move.”

“S…sure.”

He glared at Carillon. Carillon smiled. “Next time she doesn’t get a heat shield. That metal is close to four thousand degrees. I just measured it. You’re only going to get one warning.”

“Of course.” Caballeron stood up and took a deep breath, assuming a noble posture. “You’ve made your point. As much as it pains me, I will do as you say.” He extended a hoof. “Daring Do?”

“I guess we don’t have a choice, do we?” Daring Do took Caballeron’s extended hoof.

“Excellent,” said Dulcimer. “I knew you both would see reason.”

“Stuff it,” snapped Daring Do. “I don’t care how weirdly polite you are. If you weren’t holding White right now, I’d shove you down there myself.”

“Then you would do well to remember that I am, in fact, holding her. And that I do not know how to perform a heat-shield spell.”

Daring Do glared at him and walked past with Caballeron. The white Pegasi watched them as they approached the edge of the sphere’s influence. Immediately, Daring Do felt the effects. Her knees became weak, and the whole world seemed to spin.

“Get up,” snapped Caballeron, pulling her to her feet. “Sweet Celestia, don’t embarrass me.”

“Embarrassing you is the least of your problems.”

“Hardly.” He helped her forward, and the field and the noise it made only grew more intense. “You have defeated me a number of times. For you to act like a weakened old maid right now would be unforgivable for my image to my subordinates. Even if you are.”

Daring Do pulled her hoof away from him. Her senses were beginning to stabilize and the vertigo had lessened. She still felt as though she were on the verge of spilling her oats- -and in fact would have almost liked to, if only to embarrass Caballeron- -but she managed to hold what little food she had eaten down for the time being.

They approached the first altar. It had once been made of stone, but had since been almost overgrown with the Exmoori machinery that interfaced with it. Caballeron reached it first, and touched at a large flat panel. “Stupid technology,” he muttered. “It won’t work.”

“Let me try.” Daring Do pressed the screen and it immediately ignited with light, showing a number of familiar and unfamiliar forms.

“How did you- -”

“I control the interface.”

“That’s good,” said Caballeron, pretending to look at the screen but covertly peering behind him. “You have full control over the security system.”

“Which isn’t even present in this room. And, in case you haven’t noticed, White is being held over liquid metal. As well as your changeling.”

“She has a name,” snapped Caballeron. “And she isn’t ‘mine’.”

“Sure she isn’t.” Daring Do pressed one of the symbols on the screen. It shifted, and she began to read through the displays.

“There,” said Caballeron, leaning in. “It states that you need to disengage the sensory systems before starting to bring main power down. Here. Press this one.”

Daring Do did so, and the screen changed. She put her hoof on a bar and slid it backward. Somewhere, the machines shifted. Part of the Exmoori equipment pulled a set of long probes out of the liquid metal. They had long since melted away to nothing.

“We have to run the auxiliary drive next to start the shutdown,” said Caballeron, reading carefully. He pointed at one of the other controls. “That is over there.”

They started walking and passed almost to the far side of the sphere. “So,” said Daring Do. “I’m guessing you have a plan?”

“Why would I have a plan?”

“Because you always have a plan. Every single time I defeat you, you always manage to escape. So what is it now?”

“It would be a trade secret. Even if I had one. Right now? I intend to survive. I do not mind giving them the Hand.”

“I can’t let that happen.”

“Then hopefully you like roast Pegasus.”

Daring Do’s mouth felt dry. The fumes of the metal were intense at the second console, but she did what Caballeron demonstrated, changing the systems before her. The violet sphere began to distort violently as it lost cohesion.

“There isn’t much time. We need to bring it down now.”

Daring Do already knew that. The latter systems were written in the half of the Exmoori system she could understand, and she began the shutdown sequence.

“Warning,” said a voice. It was Fuzzypoof’s, and seemed to come from everywhere at once. “If the containment field is removed, the central reactor will be exposed. The results will be invariably disastrous. The protective shield cannot be restarted under present conditions. Do you wish to continue?”

Daring Do and Caballeron looked at each other.

“Should I press it?” asked Caballeron.

“I never took you for a gentlecolt. No. But be ready. It’s as much your fault that we’re here as it is mine. And whatever comes out, we’re going to have to deal with it together.”

Caballeron winced. “I was afraid you’d say that.”

Daring Do pressed the button.

The containment sphere buckled and shrunk. Its sound did not fade immediately, but seemed to hum and distort in a long, somber way. As if it knew that it was dying. The gold iridescence of the shield slowed and vanished, and the violet became pale and translucent before eventually dissipating entirely. This left the true center of the chamber- -the power source of the ancient Necroforge- -exposed.

Daring Do was not exactly sure what she had been expecting to see. What she saw, though, was most certainly not it.

There was a Hand. An oddly familiar Hand, one that Daring Do had seen numerous times in her dreams. Except her mind had always rendered it as enormous for some reason, when in actuality it was relatively small. It was a metal hand and forearm not much thicker or larger than a pony’s foreleg. The metal on it was almost black, but the design was relatively simple. It was adorned with five fingers, all of which were distinctly pointed. Something that Daring Do interpreted as machinery could be seen inside their joints.

It was what the Hand was connected to that surprised her. She had assumed that it was in a holder of some sort, but had never bothered to imagine what that holder might be like. It rarely mattered unless it had a component that could be tricked by the placement of a well-weighed bag of sand.

What it actually sat atop, though, was far more grotesque. The hand- -a right hand- -was attached to what appeared to be a statue of a pony. She held the hand aloft, trying to tear it away with her other hoof, her face contorted in an expression of absolute agony. The pony represented was a unicorn- -but did not resemble any known lineages. She was the same size as a normal unicorn filly, but clearly fully developed and thin. Her ears were long and pointed, like those of the ancient purebloods, but her horn was straight. Daring Do realized that the type of pony that this statue represented might well have predated the purebloods entirely.

Then she noticed what was carved into the statue, and felt her heart sink. The pony represented was covered in scars: signs of deep cuts, beatings, burns- -as well as several bite marks from several rows of numerous tiny, reptilian teeth. Her body was likewise inscribed with foul symbols that seemed to have been seared into her.

The only thing she wore was a collar, which was in turn connected to three massive chains. They had been obscured by the protection field, but now Daring Do stared at them almost with awe. They were enormous; each link of strange, corroded metal was at least as tall as a full-grown stallion. They only grew thinner at the terminal point.

More than chains were linked to the pony statue. Strange implants had been placed in her spine, and many of them lead to cables. Some of the cables, like her, were carved in stone; others had simply decayed away. Still more, though, had been attached to an Exmoori scaffold and interfaced to a significant amount of machinery. Others had been placed on different parts of the statue, and on the Hand itself. That seemed to be how the Exmoori were attempting to control it and to direct its force downward, to where Daring Do assumed there were the ancient remnants of the original trihorn machinery.

“A statue?” said Dulcimer, approaching it.

Solum Finis laughed. “She is no more a statue than I am a golem. But you’ll see soon enough.”

“I suppose so,” said Dulcimer, quietly. A frown suddenly crossed his face.

“Grandmaster?” asked Carillon.

“There’s a problem.”

“What kind of problem?”

“A minor one. I’m dealing with it.” He turned to the others. “Let us begin, regardless.”
 

Chapter 61: Gaunt Counterpart

The world changed and shifted. Distance had no significance, nor did space. Points could be reached without crossing intermediate space. The landscaped changed, from what was outside- -or what Rainbow Dash had perceived as ‘outside’; whether it truly was could not be known- -to a different place. An indoor chamber, one that seemed to have been carved out by a great drill from above. The walls even still bore the marks of some enormous bit, and light could be seen from above. Ash still fell, but dispersed into fog as the alicorn approached.

Rainbow Dash immediately understood where she was, and knew that it was the right place. There were almost no landmarks of any kind that could even be considered remotely similar, and Rainbow Dash still knew. This room corresponded with the one where the Hand of Doom was housed.

Ponies became visible, almost as ghosts. Most of them were Pegasi, but not all. Rainbow Dash nearly phased through a large earth-pony, likely Rogue, and across from her could see one white Pegasus sitting beside a badly injured Withers. A Pegasus with eyes like White’s.

She moved upward. The center of the room consisted of a pyramid. Ascending it, she found Daring Do. She was standing beside Caballeron, but they did not seem to be fighting. Instead, they were facing a different pony. Rainbow Dash concentrated, and resolved the image of the pony who had been introduced to her as Dulcimer.

“I don’t see the Hand,” she said, looking around, half expecting it to be in the center of the pyramid. All she saw there, though, was a very distant ghost, one that had faded to nearly the point of vanishing entirely. The ghost of something small and gray, weeping.

“Because there kind do not exist in half-phases,” explained Harvestor, who was standing atop a bent, mangled railing as though it required no balance at all. “Which is unfortunate but necessary for their survival. Dagon would take more than just a passing interest in a being of such power, even if it is infinitesimal compared to His own.”

“Beings? I don’t understand.”

“Then you may not be meant to.”

Daring Do stared at the distant ghost, but decided it was too far to attempt to see. Instead she turned her attention toward the ponies she could see. The pyramid had no flat spaces to walk on, but her hooves clicked across one regardless. She paused for a moment at Daring Do, then turned her attention toward Dulcimer.

“You know, he really does look like a guy-Lyra. I mean, I’m not crazy, right?”

“I do not work with Lyra. I would not know.”

Rainbow Dash stared at the ghostly image. Then, strangely, it seemed to vibrate.

“Um, Harvestor? I think- -”
` Suddenly Dulcimer’s face turned. His eyes, suddenly completely solid, met Rainbow Dash’s

“Hello there,” he said.

His horn ignited, and before Rainbow Dash could jump, there was a spell wrapped around her neck. The dial in her chest suddenly reacted, turning and sending out a plume of energy. Dulcimer was knocked back, and separated from himself; that is, he was still there, standing still and frozen as a ghost, but also represented as a solid pony in the out-of-phase world.

“What- -how- -”

“A very complicated spell,” growled Dulcimer. “One I’d rather not have had to use.”

He leapt forward. Rainbow Dash took to the air, expecting to easily outmaneuver him- -only to quickly realize that in this dimension she was completely unable to.

She was quickly tackled to the ground. Bindings of magic wrapped around her hooves, holding her down, facing up. Dulcimer stood over her, his horn glowing. “Your courage is admirable,” he said, “or your stupidity is prodigious.”

“Let me up and see if you still sound that tough! I’ll smash in your weirdly handsome face!”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that.” His horn glowed brighter. “Nothing in this realm can die. But I can grind you into a pulp so fine that you’ll never be able to make your way back to your own world. I’m so close. I’m sorry, Element of Loyalty. I can’t let you interfere.”

He lowered his horn. As he did, Harvestor lowered hers. They crossed, and hers ignited with hideous blue light.

The resulting explosion was unimaginably powerful. Rainbow Dash screamed and covered her face as the whole world seemed to be torn apart by blue light. She was pushed back, but only lightly- -yet she still kept her eyes closed, if only out of pure instinct.

Dulcimer was not so lucky. The force of the magic instantly overwhelmed his own, sending him flying across the room and into a wall. The alicorn raised her head, and the whole of the explosion seemed to freeze- -and then was retracted to somewhere else. Wherever it went, Rainbow Dash hoped she never needed to go there.

The alicorn approached Dulcimer, who was somehow managing to stand.

“This is not a place of violence,” she said, her voice dripping with hatred as she loomed over Dulcimer, casting a blue shadow onto him. “This is not a place for your petty mortal politics. And this is not a place for YOU.”

“You don’t understand- -”

“Dulcimer Heartstrings. You are not welcome here. You are NOT beloved by Dagon, nor are you beloved by us.” Alicorns suddenly seemed to appear everywhere, all as ghosts but in massive numbers, their horns all lit with sickly blue light. Harvestor glared unblinkingly. “You have willingly scorned the gift that was denied to all of us. You are a hideous abominations in our eyes.”

Dulcimer smiled and looked up at her. “Coming from an alicorn? I must really be grotesque, aren’t I?”

“Indeed.”

Dulcimer stood completely and brushed himself off. He did not seem to be injured, but he did not attack again. Instead he looked directly at Rainbow Dash.

“Do you even know what they are?” he asked.

“My friends.”

Rainbow Dash said it with such confiction and lack of hesitation that Dulcimer was taken aback, as were most of the alicorns- -save for those who bore Rainbow Manes. They already knew, deep within their modified genomes.

“You’re not, though,” continued Rainbow Dash. “You pretended to be. But you’re not.”

“No. Perhaps not. But I do suppose we have to be civil, don’t we?”

“Only if ‘civil’ means ‘civil war’, as in the kind where I shove my hoof up you’re fat- -”Dulcimer laughed. Rainbow Dash would have blushed if her blood had not been replaced with polymers. “What’s so funny?”

“I had a daughter like you once. So impetuous.” He sighed. “Fine.” He bowed. “I apologize for my hasty actions.”

“I don’t care. I’m not accepting an apology like that.”

“Nor do you need to. It may be glib, but it doesn’t affect me in the slightest. The path to the Hand of Doom has already been opened to me. While you could stop me, I doubt you have it in you to do what is necessary.”

“You have no idea what’s in me.”

“But I do. If only by research. You are a fundamentally good pony.”

“Yeah? So?”

“Too good. To noble. To honorable. You are the pony I wish I could have been.”

“Stop trying to flatter me, it won’t work. Even if I am awesome.”

“I’m not flattering you. I’m far too old for it. Just as I am far too old to be purely good. I’ve made too many sacrifices, lost too much.”

“Flock says you can’t control it. If you try to use the Hand, you’re going to blow us all up!”

Dulcimer’s eyes narrowed. “I would avoid trusting what that particular wizard says.”

“What, so I’m supposed to trust you instead?”

“No, you don’t need to. Nor can we stall here forever. I may not be able to attack you, but you can also not attack me in turn. Meaning we are at a stalemate.”

Rainbow Dash looked to Harvestor. Harvestor just stared back in acknowledgement.

“You aren’t going to stop him or something?”

“We are aware of his goals. And we have no stake in them. We will be immune and will persist to perform our experiments. Despite our appearance we bear almost no biological similarity to your word’s alicorns.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“It means they won’t intervene,” said Dulcimer. “They are neutral either way.”

“I can respect that.”

Dulcimer raised an eyebrow. “You can?”

“Yeah. It’s not their fight. They didn’t ask to get pulled into it. They were just being nice and helping me.” She looked up at Harvestor. “So, yeah. Thanks for that. But if I’m going to wipe the floor with this guy, I need to get back to my own world.”

“I can send you there,” said Harvestor. “But before you go, allow me to extend an offer.”

Rainbow Dash stared at her, confused but also somewhat intrigued. “What kind of offer?”

“Stay with us.”

Rainbow Dash took a step back. “Harvestor, you’re cool and all…if a little…well, a lot…freaky, but I can’t.”

“Very few ponies enter our phase completely. It is largely considered impossible, but it happens from time to time. Each time we try to extend this offer. Please consider it.”

“But I’m all weak and stuff here…”

“We can give you back what we took. We can give you back better things. Make you better. Faster, stronger, smarter, more beautiful. Whatever you desire. And in this world, you will not age. You will not die. We are offering you immortality.”

“I would suggest you take it,” added Dulcimer. “There is only pain and failure waiting for you back in the real world.”

“Would you take it?” asked Rainbow Dash.

Dulcimer lowered his eyes. “I’ve already made a different deal.”

“Indeed you have,” said Harvestor, slowly.

“Havestor,” said Rainbow Dash. “I appreciate the offer. I really do. But I can’t.”

“Even for immortality? Unlimited power?”

“All my friends are there. I can’t leave them behind.”

Harvestor stared at her. “I will not extend this offer a second time. Is this your final decision?”

Rainbow Dash looked into her strange, hideous eyes. “Yes. Yes it is. Take me back home.”

Harvestor continued to stare- -and a smile slowly crossed her face. “Many times have I extended that offer,” she said. “Many times more has it been given. And you are the first to have chosen correctly.”

Rainbow Dash felt a cold sensation against her chest, and watched as her dial was lifted away. She felt nothing; in this world, it was not required for her survival.

Harvestor lifted the dial and twisted it. In an instant it exploded into countless millions of tiny, intricate parts, all suspended in the air by her magic. Some of them shifted around, reassembling it in an instant to almost what it had been before. Then she gave it back to Rainbow Dash.

“I have reconfigured it to return you,” she said. “Consider it a parting gift, as you will likely never see me again. It was a pleasure and honor to meet you.”

“Thank you,” said Rainbow Dash, adjusting the dial. She looked at Dulcimer. “I’m going to come through.”

“I’ll be ready.”

“I know. I want you to be. It wouldn’t be fair otherwise.”

Dulcimer laughed again. “Ah, what a day this is. You would sacrifice your advantage for the sake of a fair fight? I’m meeting so many ponies who I wish I could accept as brother and sister knights. If only you were all unicorns.”

“Don’t tell Rarity, but being a Pegasus is way better.”

Rainbow Dash pressed the mechanism of the dial on her chest.

Chapter 62: The Hand of Doom

“Carillon,” said Dulcimer, “please move three paces to the left.”

Carillon did as she was told. As soon as she did, the space in front of Dulcimer distorted. With a scream and a small detonation, Rainbow Dash emerged from apparently nowhere, already accelerated to the point where she was leaving a rainbow contrail as she lunged toward Dulcimer.

Dulcimer twisted, dodging. As he did he raised his hoof to strike Rainbow Dash in the gut. Rainbow Dash rolled and avoided it, instead landing on the rocky ground and nearly bumping into one of the massive chains.

As she did, though, she gasped and fell to one knee. Her breathing was rapid and shallow; as she looked down, she now saw that the moonstone in the dial on her chest had been almost completely corroded. The dial was failing- -and if it failed, so did she.

“Rainbow Dash?!” cried Daring Do. “Where did you come from?!”

“Don’t worry, Daring Do, I’ve got this!”

“No! Wait! He has White, you can’t- -”

Rainbow Dash was not listening. Trying her best to recover, she rushed forward. Carillon stepped in her path and charged a spell. A bubble appeared around Rainbow Dash, identical to the one that was still holding Flock. Rainbow Dash impacted the side, but her dial reacted almost instantly. It turned and shifted, causing an internal shield that shattered the bubble with enough force to knock Carillon back a step.

“NO!” she cried.

“Not to worry,” said Dulcimer. “I’ll take care of this.”

His horn glowed, and his body seemed to stretch. Suddenly, two more of him appeared at his sides. The copies turned toward Rainbow Dash and lunged. One of them ignited a spell, and Rainbow Dash dodged, taking to the air. The other then proceeded to fire a beam of energy upward at her. It snaked outward, trailing behind her, but Rainbow Dash circled the room at incredible speed, summoning a vortex around them. It began to grow, and Daring Do recognized it as an artificial cyclone. Rainbow Dash was summoning a tornado.

“She’s going to spout the coolant!” cried Caballeron, covering his head as if that would do any good against plumes of boiling gallium.
` “She will not touch my coolant,” said Solum Finis, standing and spreading his wings.

Daring Do had assumed that as a creature made entirely of metal, Solum Finis’s wings were meant to be decorative. There was no way something so heavy could fly. She was proven wrong- -very wrong.

He disappeared in a flash of silver. A thin streak ran through the air as he moved faster than could be perceived by pony eyes. In an instant, he had plucked Rainbow Dash from the air. She stared at him, awestruck, and then began to struggle against his enormous hoof.

“Let go!” she cried. “You’re not supposed to be in this fight! GAH!” She bit down on his leg. She did not seem to either realize or care that she was biting metal.

Solum Finis landed where he was standing. Daring Do approached quickly.

“Rainbow Dash! Stop! Stop right now!”

“Don’t worry, Daring Do, I’ll save you- -”

“DASH!”

Rainbow Dash looked down, suddenly shocked into silence. She saw Daring Do’s face and how it was lined with worry, and how she was breathing hard from fear.

“Dash, please. Look.”

Daring Do pointed to where White had been. She had been lowered significantly, to the point where she was as close to the liquid metal as she could be without being singed. Her legs were pulled up close to her against the heat, but it was clear that she was sweating and panting from the warmth.

“What?” said Rainbow Dash, her eyes widening. “White, how the heck did you get down there?!”

“Because I’m holding her there,” said Dulcimer. “Originally it was meant to be leverage for Daring Do. But I suppose you have a relationship with her too, don’t you?”

“You gave your word!” cried Daring Do.

“And I will keep it. Once the Hand of Doom is in my possession, your half of the bargain will be completed. But not until then.

“Rainbow, please,” whispered Daring Do.

“I know, I know,” said Rainbow Dash, rolling her eyes. “It’s one of THOSE traps. I get it. Big guy, you can put me down now. I’m not going to try anything funny.”

“Do you promise not to damage my Necroforge?”

“Pinky promise.”

“I don’t know what that means. But I’ll set you down anyway. It sounded sincere.”

He lowered her. Rainbow Dash sighed as the pair of Dulcimer projections brought a cage toward her, the one that until then had served as auxiliary containment around Flock.

“This was meant to hold your wizard,” said one of the copies.

“But it will hold you just as well.”

Rainbow Dash groaned but did as they asked. She stepped inside and allowed them to lock it. The copies then rolled her to the front.

“There,” said Dulcimer as he raised White away from the heat. “Thank you, Rainbow Dash.”

“I should have just challenged you to a duel.”

“Not with a weakened dial. I would have refused on the ground of you being unfit for combat.”

The pair of Dulcimers approached the original and the three of them merged into a single being again. “But I suppose you at least get to see the process now. Perhaps you will find it interesting.”

“I doubt it.”

“Don’t be so quick to judge.”

Dulcimer walked forward and put a hoof on Carillon’s shoulder. “I’ll take the changeling. It’s time to begin. I’m counting on you.”

“I will not fail, Grandmaster.”

Carillon approached the statue that held the Hand of Doom, but stopped at a distance of about five meters. She closed her helmet, causing it to assume a conformation different than the one she had used previously. Then she lit her horn.

A spell began to form around her. Part of it was like armor, but it extended farther forward, forming something like a machine. The machine shifted and grew as new components were added to it, all of translucent amber energy.

With great care and greater concentration, Carillon lowered the terminal end of the machine over the Hand. Four long, thin claws extended from the magical machinery, their tips igniting with violet energy surrounded by rings of white runes. Of all the ponies preset, only Dulcimer and Rainbow Dash had seen spells of this caliber before. The ones Rainbow Dash had seen had invariably been cast by one Starlight Glimmer.

The prongs closed around the hand. The machine seemed to shake, and a dull and somber moan came from it. The whole of the room became silent, but nothing broke. The spell held.

Then Carillon began to pull. The effort required was immense, but the Hand started to come free, and it immediately became apparent that the Hand went deeper than it appeared. Daring Do was perversely reminded of a tooth: a large part of it was visible, but much more of it was imbedded below the surface: long, thin cables, and a network of narrow channels that ran into the stone of the statue.

Likewise, it was not a glove. As it separated from the statue, all that was left behind was a stump. The roots clung to that stump tenaciously, but Carillon compensated. Part of her machine moved forward and began to systematically sever the fine connections.

Then, all in an instant, it broke free. Carillon quickly stepped back, her machine stepping with her, now holding the Hand suspended in the air and surrounded with three layers of magical bubbles.

The silence of the room became almost palpable, and Daring Do became aware of machines in the distance suddenly growing silent. The whole of the facility seemed to shut down at once. The only light came from the portable halide lamps that the Questlords had brought, and the only sound was the sound of their breathing and the weak ticking in Rainbow Dash’s chest.

Then the reaction started. Not in the Hand, which was relatively inert, but in the statue it was taken from. The stony appearance began to change as the ancient spell was rendered moot. As the surface became smoother, the statue suddenly lurched forward, putting out its one front hoof to steady itself. Then the last of the suspension spell faded, leaving a living, breathing pony behind.

She was almost the same color as the stone she had been. Gray. A gray body with a gray mane, and even gray eyes. The tiny mare looked around, confused and terrified, until her wild eyes suddenly stopped on Dulcimer.

She took a step forward, only to realize that she could not move. The cables sewn to her back and the chains tied to her collar were stopping her. She looked back at the chains angrily, and then pulled, and although it should have been impossible, the links in the chain moved, dragged by her force. Each link must have weighed at least two tons, and yet, somehow, she was moving them.

The mare took another step forward, and then another. Each one toward Dulcimer. The chains strained and went taught, and with a horrible scream she pulled one last time. Her horn ignited with pure white light. The links of the chain might once have been able to bind her two and a half million years before, but they had grown weak with time. They snapped easily, and their remnants rose into the air, disintegrating into golden as from the force of the white magic that surrounded them.

The small pony nearly fell forward. She looked behind her, just as confused as the rest of the ponies. She raised one scarred hoof and touched her neck. The collar was still attached. Whatever metal it was made of was still too hard for her to break. Then she looked down at the stump where one of her legs had once been.

She spoke. Her voice was tiny and shaky, like that of a being not meant to talk. None present understood her language.

“Rwyllf…ab…ab d’dnimn?”

She gave them one last look, and then cried out in a mixture of immeasurable pain and relief. Her horn ignited with white light, and she was surrounded by the glow. In a flash, she was gone. She had teleported herself elsewhere.

They all stared at the spot for a moment where she had been, at where the molten remnants of the chains were still smoldering. Rainbow Dash was the first to speak.

“What was that?”

“Nothing of consequence,” said Dulcimer.

“Perhaps in the past,” said Solum Finis. “But a grave miscalculation on your part.”

“Then it is one that we will deal with later. Right now we must attend to the Hand. Is she prepared?”

“And how,” said Solum Finis, looking behind him. He lifted his wing and allowed two ponies to pass.

One of them was a stallion, the one with one eye slightly different from the other. He wore his armor, although not with his helmet. The other was his sister, the pony known as Absence. She was nude, save for ribbons of cloth inscribed with spells that had been placed over various parts of her body. She had been washed clean, and her mane had been tied back in a long braid.

She walked by them with her head held high, maintaining her pride even as she approached her doom.

“Absence?” said Rainbow Dash.

Absence turned. Her expression faltered. “Rainbow Dash. I had wished you would not have to see this.”

“See what? Absence, what’s going on?

“Rainbow Dash. I’m sorry. I really wanted to be your friend. I wish I could.”

“Absence,” said Dulcimer, stepping forward. “Are you having second thoughts?”

“No, Grandmaster,” said Absence, her voice filled with conviction. Still facing Rainbow Dash, she continued. “This is the purpose I was born for. To serve the Questlords in this solemn task.”

“For the good of Equestria,” added Daring do.

Dulcimer glared at Daring Do, but motioned for Absence to move forward. Absence did, as though this had been rehearsed. She took her place next to Carillon and turned to face outward from the circle, toward Dulcimer. Her brother approached her and produced a large syringe. Absence tilted her head to the side and allowed him to inject into her neck.

She winced.

“Sister?” he said, removing the needle.

“I’m alright. Everything is fine.” She shuddered as the drugs began to work.

“So I assume you are ready, then?” asked the Grandmaster.

“Yes. My mother’s work will finally come to fruition.”

“Excellent.”

Dulcimer’s horn ignited, and a ball of fierily magic appeared in front of him. He shaped it, causing it to compress and lengthen until it had taken the form of a long, elegant sword. Manipulating the sword with his magic, he approached Absence.

Absence looked him in the eye, and braced herself.

Dulcimer did not hesitate. He swung the sword with a single, rapid slice. Rainbow Dash cried out, and Daring Do had to look away. Even looking away, she still heard it. The sound of Absence inhaling quickly, and then the sickening sound of something organic falling against the stone floor.

Absence gritted her teeth, trying to suppress the scream. She took a step forward, but nearly faltered. She had of course practiced, but nothing had fully prepared her for walking on three legs. The pain where her front right leg had been was immense, but she dealt with it. It was what she had been made for.

“She didn’t even cry out,” mused Dulcimer. “You do good work, Carillon.”

“Of course,” said the unicorn mare. She turned her attention toward Absence- -and began to move the Hand of Doom toward its new home.

“NO!” cried Rainbow Dash. “Absence, don’t! Don’t let them!”

It was too late. As soon as the Hand was brought in proximity to the place where Absence’s leg had once been, it reacted. The thin, seemingly inert cables at its base suddenly twitched and lurched forward. This time Absence did screamed. She screamed loud and long as they burrowed into her, linking to her- -and as she came to feel something else linking to her, connecting to her on a deeper level.

The Hand pulled itself toward her, and Carillon released it. For a moment the Hand hung loosely, twitching and writhing like some ghastly parody of an animal. Like a perverse parasite.

Then it climbed. The tendrils pulled it upward, and it formed the joints it needed to. When it was done, it tugged itself closely to Absence’s body. And it fused there.

Absence’s eyes widened, and the scream suddenly left her- -but her mouth was still open in horror. It had gone beyond pain. Metal moved through her body, binding to that which was already there, fusing its mutated flesh to her own, and she realized in that instant what it was.

She looked up, behind Dulcimer. The other ponies looked at her, confused, but she did not understand why they could not see it. Looming over them, a black shape, one of incomparable importance, inscribed with things that must never be read- -but that Absence felt like she could almost translate.

It was a horrible thing. An inconceivable thing, this looming black object. One that not meant to be witnessed or understood. A gurgling scream rose in Absence’s through as silver fluid dripped from her eyes and ears. She raised her left hoof to her left ear- -and the Hand of Doom to her right. To try to block out the sound that could never be heard.

The Hand ignited with magic, and the spell burst outward, surrounding the Questlords. It was a spell that no pony had ever conceived of, nor that they could conceive of- -although its function was already known. It was meant to induce teleportation.

In an instant, the spell activated; with a small explosion, the Questlords vanished. Dulcimer, Carillon, and all of the armored, cloned Pegasi. Nothing was left but smoke and the scent of perverted, empty magic.

Daring Do shot through the air in an instant. Dulcimer had been true to his word. Before he had departed, he had moved White over the catwalk, and she fell to it with a thud. The changeling Argiopé, however, remained over the metal. She fell with a cry, and Daring Do snatched her out of the air, nearly falling into the gallium herself. The changeling was heavier than expected and struggling wildly; one of her hooves hit Daring Do’s wing, causing it to fail. She dropped- -directly onto a plume of perfect silver feathers.

Solum Finis lifted them to safety. He looked down at them gravely.

“The Hand of Doom has been removed. This Necroforge will never again be lit. There is no longer a reason for me to be here. I will depart now.”

With that, he spread his wings and pulled himself into the air. He hovered for a moment, his vast wingstrokes sending the coolant below into ripples that were already beginning to solidify. Then he flew like the wind, exiting over the heads of the remaining ponies in Caballeron’s entourage: Rogue, Withers, the Pegasus with metal eyes, and the zebra Zel. In an instant he was gone.

The catwalk shook slightly. Daring Do looked up to see a pair of reflective yellow eyes staring at her from over the stairs.

“Flock.”

“Do you have any idea what you have just done?”

Daring Do looked at the place that had once housed the Hand of Doom. “Yeah. We just lost.”
 

Chapter 63: Regrouping

Daring Do immediately spilled her oats. Except that it was not oats that came out, but more black fluid and pieces of living metal. Seeing it only caused her to continue to retch until her stomach retained some semblance of calm.

Above her, she saw Flock tear the dial from Rainbow Dash’s chest, shoving her back in the process.

“Hey!”

“You don’t need it in this phase!” snapped Flock. With one swift motion, he ejected the moonstone and replaced it. He then attached it to his own chest and took a long, deep breath. “Finally…”

Daring Do stood up. She was once again in the front entryway of Flock’s castle, or warehouse or whatever it was. Likewise, as her nausea from the teleport cleared, she felt her body regaining its youthful strength. She had forgotten just how terrible she truly felt in the real world.

They were not alone. Flock, it seemed, had ceased to care about much of anything at all. He had left no ponies behind, as he no longer had a reason to differentiate between sides.

White was present, as well as Sweetie Drops- -or what was left of her. So were Caballeron and his henchponies. Caballeron looked sickly and thin, and his mane had been largely shaved away. A barcode had been printed on his head, like the ones that all ponies bore in this reality. Rogue, who was likewise thin and pale, had a similar one, as did Withers, although Withers seemed grotesquely sole, with parts of his skin drawn outward by the presence of subdermal metal.

Few changes had been made in the other members of his party. The abandoned white Pegasus was almost identical, save for the fact that she had complete eyes and long, smooth hair instead of a Mohawk. The changeling and the zebra were likewise unaltered, save for the fact that the changeling rendered in white instead of black. The alicorns of this realm, apparently, were only interested in ponies.

“Oh wow,” said Argiopé, admiring herself. “I look just like Shining Armor’s illegitimate son!”

No one thought it was funny. The unnamed white Pegasus looked at White and gasped.

“S…sister…”

White smiled. “Hello sister.”

The older Pegasus hugged her. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry!”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” said White, sounding somewhat confused.

“Your eyes. Your eyes are so pretty!”

“So are yours.”

Caballeron tried to take a step. One of his limbs buckled, as the joint had been altered beyond its ability to function. He ignored it and instead faced Daring Do. She saw a strange look cross his face. It was a look he had not given to her since she was far younger. She supposed her body looked as good as it felt.

“What is the meaning of this? What have you done to us?”

There was a flutter of wings. Flock appeared inches from Caballeron’s face. He sneered viciously. “I should be asking what you just did to ME.” His head twisted toward Daring Do. “What BOTH of you just did to me!”

“We did nothing!” protested Caballeron.

“My point exactly!”

“We still have time,” said Daring Do, pushing them apart. Caballeron felt desperately bony. His body in this realm was very weak. “If we can get it back from the Questlords- -”

Flock shoved her away. “You don’t understand! The Hand has already been linked to a host! It’s too late! The Questlords are completely irrelevant!”

“What are you talking about?” demanded Rainbow Dash. “I have no idea what’s going on!”

“You just let them end Equestria,” snapped Flock. All to protect THEM.” He pointed at White and the changeling. White did not recoil, but the changeling did, at least before she could stop herself. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

“No,” said Daring Do, curtly. “Because you haven’t been entirely honest with us, have you? You never once said what kind of artifact the Hand of Doom actually is. Or what it can do. Or what it was MEANT to do. What’s the matter? You didn’t think that was important information?”

Flock glared at her. “It wasn’t at the time.”

“Well it is now. What in Celestia’s name did we just allow to happen?”

Flock continued to glower, but then turned away. His voice grew more calm, but was still saturated with hatred. To whom it was directed, Daring Do was not sure.

“The Hand is not an artifact,” he said. “It is a piece of a living, sentient creature. A vandrare.”

“A what?”

Flock’s eyes narrowed. “A vandrare. They are interdimensional parasites. The Hand is literally one of their hands.”

“But, if it’s just a hand,” said Rainbow Dash, “then we should be okay?”

“Unless the Questlords elect to use its power,” sneered Caballeron. “Especially to pluck the wings off a goddess.”

“You don’t understand anything! Can you primitives really be that thick? What they use it for doesn’t matter, because it can’t be used! The Hand is a living creature! In its inactive state, it is largely harmless- -but once grafted to a host, it will reactivate. It will begin to regenerate.”

“Meaning it will grow the rest of its body back,” said Daring Do. “By consuming the pony it’s attached to.”

The eyes of the two white Pegasi widened. Rainbow Dash, though, almost shouted. “But that’s Absence!”

Flock nodded. “I now understand why the biology of the Questlord clones was so unique. They were designed to withstand containing the Hand. Or else she would already have been devoured by now. But it’s not good enough. It won’t hold forever. The infection has been slowed, but it will eventually overcome her.”

“But then we have to help her!”

“She can’t be helped,” said Flock. “Nor can we. Because once the vandrare consumes her completely, it will manifest.”

“And then what?” asked Argiopé.

“The infection will spread limitlessly, and they will feed.”

“On what?”

“On everything.”

“Can we stop it?” asked Daring Do.

“No. Whatever technology and magic it bears, it is far beyond even our slightest comprehension. Nothing we possess can stop it.”

“We need to get the Elements of Harmony,” said Rainbow Dash. “You need to get me to Ponyville. Right now.”

“To do what?” laughed Flock, without even a hint of humor. “To make friends with it? To teach it the value of love and harmony? Or maybe just to blast it to little tiny bits using your death-magic? No. It doesn’t work that way.”

“Yes it does! Well okay not the death part, but the rest!”

“It eats magic as easily as it eats matter. Is that really something you want to use Equestria’s most powerful magical force on?”

“No…but….well, it always worked before!”

“This isn’t before! Our only chance was for me to contain the Hand before it could be reactivated. But guess what? It’s active now. All of Equestria is lost. And it is all YOUR fault.”

Flock glared at them one last time, and then evaporated into a plume of crows. They cawed and s shrieked, and then flew upward into the belfries of his castle. The rest of the ponies were left alone and without him.

“What now?” asked Rainbow Dash.

“I’m going to talk to him,” said Daring Do, taking flight. “You and White stay here. Make sure Caballeron doesn’t try to steal anything.”

She found him in a room full of things. Endless things, things without names. A lifetime of things. They were trapped, tagged, and categorized in the walls, waiting silently even though they would never be free.

Some of the chambers had been repurposed. Daring Do realized that the rear of that particular hallway terminated in a vast cylindrical room, and that it had been converted into an aviary. Crows flew throughout, tending to nests and to chicks that would eventually become Flock, if they were not already.

“Flock!” she called as she entered. Many of the crows stopped what they were doing and looked at her. “I know you’re here. Come out.”

There was a rush of wings. Daring Do turned to see behind her. She saw him standing there, waiting. He was facing away from her.

“What do you want?”

Daring Do stared back for a long time. “It was all a lie, wasn’t it?”

Flock looked back at her, pretending not to understand.

“You’re Gxurab Al’Hrabnaz.”

Flock let out a long sigh. “Don’t try to pronounce it. Your vocal organs aren’t nearly advanced enough.”

“Tell me the truth.”

“Why?” Flock pivoted suddenly, so that he was facing her. Yet he did not appear angry. “What would it really affect? Would it make you feel better? To have deduced something that I never tried especially hard to hide? Congratulations, then. You’ve discovered something that makes no difference.”

“But it does!” Daring Do moved forward toward him. He did not retreat, which was disconcerting. Anger was rising in Daring Do’s voice. “You were using me too, just like they were! You weren’t trying to contain the Hand of Doom! You were trying to do exactly what they’re doing right now!”

“The difference being that I would have been successful.”

Daring Do was taken aback by his honesty. “You…you would have built a Necroforge? Even after everything you’ve told us, everything you’ve seen?”

Flock’s eyes met Daring Do’s. They looked almost pony-like. Never before had Daring Do believed that he had once been a pony so much as now. “If the Eternal King had asked it, yes. I would have.”

“You would have built it for Sombra,” she said, in disbelief.

“Yes,” said Flock, casually, as though it were obvious. “I am the last one. The last one who stayed loyal. All this?” He pointed farther down the hall, toward the artifacts. “All this was done in his name. To protect Equestria. To safeguard it for his return.”

“To supply him with weapons and power when he gets back, more like it.”

“That too. Yes.”

“You’re insane. Sombra was evil, a dark tyrant- -”

“Where you there?”

Daring Do once again stumbled on her words. “No. But it’s common knowledge.”

“I was there. I was Eight of Thirteen. Gxurab Al’Hrabnaz.” When he said it, the words came out vastly differently than Daring Do had interpreted it from her writings. He apparently did possess the vocal organs to pronounce it, and the sound made Daring Do shudder.

“So you’re saying he wasn’t evil, then?”

Flock looked at her for a long moment. “Sombra was a visionary. You have to understand that.”

“Yeah. And I’m pretty sure I know what his vision was.”

Flock sighed. He started walking, pacing. “The society that I am from,” he said, looking up at the birds caring for their young. Birds that were him. “It is ruled by a matriarchal hierarchy. And I had the profound misfortune of being born male. For the nobility, that might not have had meaning. But for me it meant everything.” He stopped and held out a hoof. A crow landed on it, and he stroked it gently. Then he looked back to Daring Do.

“I had a cutie mark in mathematical formulae. Do you know what occupation was assigned to me, Daring Do?”

“No.”

“To design and maintain drilling tips. Drills. To labor in the mines, doing the same work every day. But I dreamed of greatness. Of being permitted to explore new mysteries, to write new theories…” He released the crow, and it flew away. “So I exiled myself, only to find a society that rejected me. Hated me. Because of what I was. Because only a unicorn can purue knowlage and magical theory. Isn’t that right?” Daring Do did not answer. “But then I found the Crystal Empire. I found Sombra. And he offered me space, resources, and freedome to pursue my ideas. Even though I was a male, and even though I was not a unicorn.”

“You mean he gave you permission to do evil in his name.”

“I will not deny what I am, or what Sombra was, no. I committed acts that you would define as unspeakable. Sombra committed many as well. Perhaps that does make us evil. But I respected him. Admired him. He had the qualities of a perfect king: strength, power, intelligence, ambition…but also levelheadedness, the refusal to be swayed by moods or emotions, an almost clinical dedication to ruling with precision.

“And he chose the best to serve under them. I was friends with several of the others, and I was honored to be trusted so greatly by such a great stallion.”

“You know he’s dead. You have to know that. Rainbow Dash and her friends…they killed him.”

Flock lowered his head. “No,” she said. “I refuse to believe it.”

“Then how can you be so sure.”

Flock looked at her. His eyes seemed somber, almost longing. And full of regret.

“Because I was the one who created the spell that gave him immortality. That gave it to us both.”

“Sombra’s Bane,” whispered Daring Do.

Flock nodded solemnly. “Except that I wasn’t strong enough. His soul was of such a caliber, it could be bound to pure elemental shadow. Mine was small and weak, as I was in life and as I am now. But I needed to persist. To carry on, even after the Empire fell. To wait for his return.” He looked up at the aviary. “So I used my birds. I always loved them, Daring Do. Do you know why?”

“Because they’re black?”

“No. Because they’re free.”

Daring Do looked up at the birds.

“To tell you the truth?” she said after a long pause. “I don’t really care who you serve. You’re right, I never knew Sombra. I don’t think I would have liked him, but who knows.”

“You would not have.”

“My point is that we need to do something. I know why you came here. To hide where time doesn’t pass the same way. But that won’t work forever. If you want to have an Equestria for your king to come back to, we need to stop the Hand of Doom.”

“I already told you. That isn’t possible. There is no way to gain control of it.”

A thought occurred to Daring Do. One that was obvious but that she had always dismissed because she assumed that Flock had previously considered it. Knowing know what his true intentions were, she realized he might not have.

“We can’t control it,” she admitted, “but can we destroy it?”

Flock turned his head to look at her sharply, looking almost horrified. “Destroy an artifact? You don’t mean to imply- -”

“I know. I know what I just said. But just humor me. Is it even possible?”

Flock thought for a moment. “No. Not while the Hand is dormant. It’s virtually indestructible.”

“But it isn’t dormant anymore. It’s attached to a host.”

Flock frowned, thinking, performing calculations within his head and recalling many ancient texts. “You’re right. This isn’t a normal situation. Under ordinary circumstances infection happens quickly by design. But the Questlords have slowed it down.”

“Would it be vulnerable?”

“Yes. At least until the vandrare manifests in its entirety, it might be possible.”

“‘Might’ is good enough. But we don’t have much time. What would it take to do it?”

“No ordinary weapon would be able to damage it.” Flock paused. “But I know one that can.”

Flock and Daring Do entered the room together. The others had not left it, being either too weak or too afraid to leave the main hall. Rainbow Dash was sitting in one of the higher bays, specifically the one with the plants. She was watching Caballeron like a hawk with the exact same expression that he was looking at Flock’s artifacts with.

“Don’t bother,” said Flock. “You would never be able to leave this dimension with them anyway. And most of them would tear your fragile dirt-horse body apart on contact.”

Caballeron gasped. “How dare you!”

“Don’t care.” Flock turned to the zebra. “You. Striped donkey.”

The zebra almost cried out at the insult. “I should dig a trench and bury you in a furro!/ Can’t you see that I am clearly no burro?!”

“Great, he rhymes. You have the Spear of Extinction on your back. Give it to me.”

“You know of course/ that you will have to take it by force.”

“Fine.”

“Wait!” said Daring Do. She stepped in front of Flock. “You’re name’s Zel, right?”

“That is my name/ or at least the one to which I have laid claim.”

“You’re a shaman.”

Zel took a step back as though he had been struck. Not out of insult, but out of sheer surprise.

“You mean a rhyming charlatan living in a tree? /No, can’t you see that I’m a noble mercenary?”

“Blue eyes. Constant rhyming. The capacity to use spells. A sacred zebric spear. You at least had the basic training.”

“I don’t always rhyme,” he protested. Then, more quietly, “at least not all the time.”

“Please. We don’t need to take your spear. Just the Spear of Extinction.”

Zel’s eyes met hers, and he blushed slightly. Then he lifted the Spear and presented it to her.

“Don’t give that to her!” cried Caballeron. “After all the trouble I went through to get that- -”

“And after all the trouble I went through to help you so that it would eventually fall into her hooves,” added Flock.

Daring Do took the Spear.

“What is all this about?” asked the changeling. “What are you planning?”

“Flock believes that it might be possible to stop the vandrare. But only with this spear.”

Caballeron laughed. “Well, good luck with that. The Spear is dull. It couldn’t even cut through your ridiculous little shirt.”

“Dull?” Flock stared at him indignantly. “Are you that thick?”

“You are pretty thick,” noted Argiopé.

Flock took the Spear from Daring Do. “The Spear is Exmoori. It is gene-locked to its intended owner. To Commander Hurricane.”

“Well that’s not much of a help, is it?” growled Caballeron. “Seeing as Commander Hurricane was alive over a thousand years ago. I highly doubt she’s in any condition to wield a spear. Let alone to be alive.”

“She is not, no,” said Flock, inspecting the Spear. “But the Spear is not linked to her specifically. Only to a gene she carried.”

“And what gene would that be?” asked White.

Flock looked at her. “The Spear will only respond to a member of the bloodline of Pegasus.”

Rainbow Dash dropped from her perch overhead. “Wait,” she said. “Pegasus? As in, THE Pegasus? As in the first winged pony? As in the guy we’re all named after?”

“That would be the one.”

Caballeron snorted. “Then we’re still out of luck, aren’t we? It is a known historical fact that Commander Hurricane bore no children. Her personality was far too harsh and overbearing to find a proper husband.”

“You take that back- -”

“This is the same history,” continued Flock, ignoring Rainbow Dash, “that states that the Exmoori never existed, isn’t it? And yet we have empirical evidence that both ‘facts’ are false.”

“Meaning?” asked Daring Do, still unsure where this was going.

Flock smiled. “The bloodline of Pegasus is unique among bloodlines in that it never dilutes. It brings its members unusual strength, courage, and speed, and all similar characteristics of their semi-mythic forbearer. However, it also carries with it a distinct visual trait.”

“Which is?”

“Historical evidence suggests that like Commander Hurricane, Pegasus had a unique multicolored mane.”

The room fell silent, and all eyes slowly turned to Rainbow Dash.

“Wait,” she said. “Why are you all looking at me?”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” moaned Daring Do.

Flock chuckled. “You weren’t lying when you said ‘mission-critical’ resources.”

“Wait,” said Rainbow Dash. “You’re saying I’M part of that bloodline?”

“No,” said Caballeron, rolling his eyes, “He’s saying he wants you to make us all cupcakes.”

“I dig cupcakes,” said Withers from the back. The unnamed Pegasus punched him in the arm.

“Here.” Flock threw the Spear to Rainbow Dash. Instinctively, Rainbow Dash caught it.

The Spear responded instantly. Something inside it hummed and clicked, and the blade- -or what had been taken for the blade- -split open, unfolding as the front end of the Spear changed conformation. Beneath it was a glowing tip made of a different material, one that glowed with pure white light and hummed with energy. Rainbow Dash, likewise, seemed to take on a glow. Her mane- -which suddenly seemed longer- -drifted up and away from her head.

“GAH!” she cried, throwing the Spear on the floor. It clattered down and immediately closed before sitting inactive. “What- -what was that?!”

“Proof. You are a direct descendant of Commander Hurricane, and in turn Pegasus himself. This spear was destined for your use. And you WILL need to use it.”

“But…but how?”

“More importantly,” said Sweetie Drops, pulling herself forward, much to the horror of everypony watching. “Will it work?”

Flock smiled, and he produced a book. It was large, and bound in an ancient black cover sewn from pieces of material that were subtly different in color.

“Do you know what this is?”

None answered, although Caballeron looked at the book warily. Daring Do also seemed displeased by its presence.

“This book is how I know about the vandrare. And how I know many other things. Here.” He passed the book to Daring Do. “Open it.”

Daring Do took the book, and as soon as it touched her she nearly recoiled in disgust. Nearly. She, like Caballeron, knew the material it was bound with, and knew that at one time the colors had been much brighter.

Still, she opened it. What she found she did not understand.

Flipping through, she found that each vellum page was the same. Every one of them- -and there seemed to be thousands- -contained a perfect black rectangle. Always black, always the same size, and always the same shape. They never varied in the slightest.

“What is this?” she asked. “Wait…” She reached into one of her pockets and removed the folder that contained her copy of the ancient rubbings of the Mighty Helm stone. They were no longer useful, but they contained something else. Something she had only remembered at the sight of those haunting rectangles.

She removed a vellum sheet with an identical image. It was more faded, and the page older, but she understood. She turned to a page in the book that had been torn out. The page she held matched the ragged edge where it had once been attached.

“What is this?” she whispered.

“It is called the Book of the Black Tower,” said Flock. “I have copies of many works here. Eibon. De Vermis Mysteriis, the Necronomicon, Discord’s personal joke book- -but this is the most unique and the most precious.”

“But there’s nothing written in it.”

“Isn’t there?”

Flock extended his hoof over the torn-out page. The dial in his chest clicked, and his hoof ignited with a complex circle of strange square symbols. The page seemed to shake, and silver text began to glow within the rectangle.

Then it erupted outward. Words poured out, rising as holographic images. Words written in every language imaginable, and many languages that were not. They poured upward, rising and spreading out, forming themselves into impossible patterns of organization until they nearly filled the room.

“These images are not simply drawings. They are words. Thousands upon thousands of layers of black ink, all written over itself. Millions of words per image, all assembled into a single black shape. It took me nearly one hundred years to create a spell that could extract them. And it has taken me nearly four hundred years to translate just a pittance of pages.”

“But…why? Where did this all come from?”

“The author is unknown. But from what I was able to translate, I understood at least why.” Flock allowed the words to collapse, and then pointed at the black shape on the page. “The pony who wrote this, if he even was a pony, witnessed the Monolith. And understood.”

“The Monolith?” Daring Do shivered. Somehow in some deep part of herself, she remembered that name.

Flock nodded. “The Monolith is what created the vandrares. It is the master that they serve. Their world was long-dead. They fled to the void but found nothing within it…save for the Monolith. They witnessed it, and were overwhelmed. Anything that they were was ruined and driven out of them, turning them to husks. Husks cursed with persistent sentience.”

“And this book explains what they are…and how to defeat them.”

“This book contains a great many things. No pony- -mortal or immortal- -was meant to witness a Monolith. The it destroyed whatever the vandrares once were, and they only partially understood. This tome contains descriptions, maps, and powerful spells.”

“Descriptions? Of what?”

“Of worlds where ponies cross the gulf of space by feeding on the blood of youth. Where chaos and destruction have built mad, impossible worlds. Of long ends and ancient deities. Of a great many things I wish I had not known about.”

“And why exactly am I holding it?”

“Because the spells inside are forbidden to me. I sacrificed my body and bound my soul forever to this world in the name of the Eternal King. Those spells can only be spoken by one who is still pure.”

Daring Do stared down at the book. She felt twenty years older. “By me?”

“No,” said Caballeron, stepping forward. “I am the superior linguist. I will read the spells.”

“No,” said Daring Do, quietly shaking her head. “You can’t.”

“You don’t trust me.”

“No, Pontracio. You’re trying to be kind. But you can’t do this. It’s my fault. I was the one who unlocked it. And I’m going to make it right.”

Caballeron sighed and his brow furrowed. “That sense of constant heroism and self-sacrifice. Do you have any idea how infuriating it is?”

“We’ll have to work together for this,” said Flock. “But I still need more. I have a plan, but I need outside help.”

“From whom?” asked White.

“I need a certain artifact. And an old friend.”
 

Chapter 64: Necroforge

The entire facility shuddered. Dulcimer felt the vibration, but felt it even deeper, down to his core. The ancient stone resisted valiantly, transferring the force of the blast downward and into the dry earth below, but it was not enough. The amount of magic being released was unfathomable. Containment was failing.

He burst into the observation room. A sealed chamber, more modern than the rest of the castle, part of the central sphere that Dulcimer had spent many lifetimes constructing. Carillon was already there, no longer dressed in pure armor but instead in a white containment suit. Others were at her side: the smartest of her children, as well as advanced machine-golems, the sort that were powered by magnificently pure crystals.

“Carillon!” cried Dulcimer as another shockwave tore through the castle. “REPORT!”

“I don’t have time to report! I’m busy fixing the problem!”

Her magic swirled across the control systems, forming a secondary interface. She took full control of the systems, desperately trying to regain control. Dulcimer looked through the observation window, a riveted-on piece of twelve-inch thick diamond. On the far side, he could see the central chamber, the core of the Necroforge. It was white and sterile, and an operating table had been set up in the center. Lying on it was the pony Absence. She was screaming and writhing in agony. The ponies and golems that had been sent to perform the procedure had been thrown back. Many of the white Pegasi were unconscious, while the robots were destroyed completely.

Absence sat up. The cables tore free from her body and she cried out, weeping through a mixture of several languages. The Hand ignited once again, glowing with powerful and incomprehensible magic. A surge went out. Dulcimer produced a shield spell around himself and the others, and despite its presence they were still pushed back.

“She’s rejecting the connectors!” cried Carillon, lunging back to the controls. An image appeared, and Dulcimer winced. It was a real-time x-ray of the subject’s body. It showed her bones- -and the cables that ran through her, filling the intermediate space and propagating new and unfathomable implants.

“Are we losing containment?”

“Grandmaster- -”

“ARE WE LOSING CONTAINMENT?”

“No,” said Carillon with full authority. “It’s advancing faster than we anticipated, but she’s fighting.”

“She had better. If we can’t stop the progression- -”

“We WILL stop it.” Carillon suddenly cried out and ran her hoof through the control hologram, shattering it. “This won’t work, I have to do it manually!”

She ran to the door, grabbing a bandoleer of drugs and supplies as she did so. Dulcimer followed her. He knew what she was planning and how dangerous it was. It made him proud but also afraid. He loved her dearly, even if he knew that she, like all of them, was expendable.

The main entry port to the central chamber sat down a staircase just outside of the observation chamber. Carillon leapt down the stairs, landing hard on the concrete below.

“Mother!” cried one of the Pegasi guarding the airlock. “You can’t go in there! It’s too dangerous!”

“Get out of my way!” Carillon’s horn ignited and she threw the Pegasus down, sending him skittering across the floor. She then directed her magic up at the release crank overhead, turning it swiftly using incredible force.

“Grandmaster,” she said. “You need to stay behind.”

“No. I won’t let you go alone.”

“You built this machine. You know how to use it without me.”

“But I don’t know how to use her. At this point that may be the more important element.”

Carillon looked at him, and he saw the thankfulness on her face. Then she nodded and pulled open the door.

They both stepped inside. The rear one closed. Almost instantly the room was filled with acrid gas that sprayed their bodies at high pressure. Carillon coughed and choked, and resisted the urge to cry out. It was toxic to organic tissue. Ponies were not meant to go through without full-body suits, but there had been no time to don one. Dulcimer did not react in the slightest.

Absence doubled over in pain. She screamed and wept. She did not want to scream and weep, but the pain was too intense. Her body felt as though it was burning, as though something was cutting through her and tearing her apart. In her long life, she had experienced many surgeries. She had even withstood the sort that were done awake, as was her duty, knowing the whole time that her younger sisters often experienced far worse. But that paled in comparison to this.

She did not want to cry. She wanted to make her mother proud, to serve the purpose she had been made for. But she could not. SHE would not let her. The voice in her head that screamed and brought visions of the Black Tower, the unending and eternal Monolith, drawn from countless eons of memories that were not hers. They were HERS. Had it been the physical pain alone, Absence might have borne it. Perhaps she could have withstood, screaming and writhing but still completing her mission. But the mental pain was too much. Her sanity was being torn apart, and her identity was failing.

The airlock opened. Distantly, Absence was aware of two ponies entering the room. Yet she knew exactly who they were. She could smell them, and feel the presence of a heartbeat. With a herculean effort, she tried to suppress the pain long enough to look impressive. Because if she failed, her mother would be so very disappointed.

Absence sat up. What few cables were left pulled out of her back, their ends corroded by the acid that was running through her veins. She tried to stand, but her bones felt as though they had been shattered. Instead, she simply flopped to one side and fell to the floor. Her hand tapped against the white stone, catching her. Its fingers tore deep gouges into the synthetic marble. Absence felt it staring back at her, felt HER wondering what exactly SHE was connected to, and why it was resisting so powerfully.

And that was exactly what Absence did. She resisted. Forcing it back with all her will, and with all the strength she had been constructed with. For just a moment, her screaming stopped.

“Absence.”

Absence looked up, for a moment overjoyed. Her mother had said her name.

Carillon knelt down beside her. “Absence. I’m here. You have to listen to me. Please. I built you. I grew you, from my own flesh. I know you, and know that you’re strong. You have to be strong for me now, Absence, stronger than you’ve ever been. We have to get you into the machine, finish the implantation. It’s the only way.”

“I- -I can’t! Mother, it hurts!”

Absence did not know what language she said it in, but Carillon seemed to understand.

“I can’t help you if you don’t help me!”

“I- -I’m trying, mother, I’m trying- -”

“I have more of the drugs.” Carillon removed a syringe from her bandoleer.

“Will they- -will they make the pain stop?”

“No.” Carillon shook her head gravely. “They will make it much, much worse, but they will give you more control. They will slow it down.”

“Please- -please don’t make it worse. I can’t- -I can’t- -”

Carillon lifted Absence’s head and stared into her eyes. “You can, Absence, and you will. I know you will. You are my greatest creation. The strongest of my children. And the only one born from my own womb.”

Absence’s eyes widened. She did not know if it was true, or if her mother was only trying to make her feel better- -but she held onto the idea. That she was not born in a tank, that she was truly her mother’s daughter. Although somehow that made her feel worse. A nagging voice within her sounded with an air of deepset hatred. Hatred was something that SHE understood, and SHE grasped onto it, burrowing deeper into Absence’s head.

Absence screamed. Carillon levitated the syringes, and then hugged her daughter. Absence felt the needles hit their mark, finding the veins in her neck. The drug flowed into her, and with it unimaginable agony.

No scream came from her. She only convulsed. Her mother reached forward and wrapped her daughter in a hug. Absence could feel her golden metallic hooves surrounding her.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “Daughter, my daughter. I’m sorry it had to be this way.”

Absence closed her eyes, and felt herself hugging back- -but realized that it was not by her own will. The Hand was moving on its own accord, and she felt it lay itself on her mother’s back. Absence’s eyes suddenly widened with horror when she felt what it was doing. She felt the program rising within it, the design and blueprints for the thing that she would soon become. They were being transferred. The disease was being transmitted.

“NO!” she screamed.

The Hand did not expect the sudden surge of resistance. For just a moment, Absence subsumed its control. She commanded its power for just a fraction of a second, but it was enough.

The hand ignited with a massive explosion of blood-red magic. Carillon arched her back and screamed as the magic struck her. She had no shield spell and no runes to protect her, and the blast tore her apart.

A surge of orange came from behind, but Dulcimer was already too late. He tore Carillon away and threw her onto the white floor. She bounced once but then fell still. She lay here, smoking, and she did not move.

“M…mother?” said Absence. “Mother?”

There was no response. And no motion.

Absence suddenly began to cry. Not weeping, and not screaming, but quiet sobbing. “Mother,” she said, softly. “Mother…why? What have I done?”

The drugs took effect, and Absence tilted, falling to her side on the cold marble. She shook as Dulcimer approached him. The only sound that came from her was a soft cheeping, like the sound of a baby chick.

Dulcimer did not know why the tank-grown clones made that sound when under extreme duress, but he had come to hate it. He hated it because it demonstrated what he had been reduced to, how an ancient Order of over twenty bloodlines now relied on things that were not even real ponies. More secretly, though, he hated it because of what it meant, and what he had been reduced to doing.

He turned to one of the other white Pegasi, but did not even need to give the order. They had already surrounded what was left of Carrilon and were administering first aid using the medical equipment that had been meant for Absence.

“Is she…”

“These wounds are substantial,” said one of the Pegasi, looking up with tears in his eyes.

“Can they be repaired?”

“Not by us. But by her maybe.”

“Then get her to a surgical suite and get her conscious.”

The Pegasus’s eyes widened. “But Grandmaster, these injuries, the amount of pain and cognitive dissonance- -”

Dulcimer pointed at Absence. “If this one can handle this, I expect a knight to be able to handle at least what I’m ordering of her. I need her alive. Whatever it takes.”

“Yes, my lord. Brothers! Sisters! Prep for transport!”

“No, I’ll take her,” said Dulcimer, levitating the limp but strangely light body. “Give me a skeleton crew but leave the rest here. Get that clone connected to the Necroforge! NOW!”

The terrified Pegasi saluted, and they obeyed their master’s orders with precision and absolute dedication. Somehow, Dulcimer did not think that it would be enough.

Dulcimer was not a surgeon, at least not on living flesh. In his long life he had learned many things, but by no means all of them. That was an interesting fact that he had not understood in his youth, when he thought that knowledge had been finite. Nine thousand eight hundred and seventy eight years later, there were still things he failed to know. Things he wish he had.

Yet the surgery continued as he watched. Ponies walked through the room, carrying various pieces of surgical equipment and supplies- -or at least the images of ponies. They were transparent, almost mechanical-looking constructs made from orange light. Carillon’s magic. A team of imaginary surgeons projected by her own will and magic, a team to allow her to complete the vision and procedures she saw within her own head.

Dulcimer was forced to look away, to keep his eyes focused on the darkness of the room and not at the operating table in the center. Not just because of the surgery, but because of its costs. Costs that Carillon was callous enough to deal with but that Dulcimer himself would rather not have known. Once again his own adage echoed through his mind: that it was possible to escape death, if only one was willing to pay the price.

Then the surgeons stopped. They set down their tools and stood at attention before fading unceremoniously as the spell dissipated.

“Carillon?” said Dulcimer. His voice echoed through the otherwise empty room as though it were a tomb.

“I’m here,” she said. Her voice was ragged and quiet. It was apparent that she was exhausted.

Carillon sat up, and Dulcimer saw what she had done. Carillon stared at him, though her one orange eye- -and through a red eye that sat in the other socket.

She turned on the operating bed and lifted her front hooves. They were no longer metal. Instead, they were covered in soft, white fur. As was much of her, including a sizable portion of her face that surrounded her new eye. As impeccable as her work had been, the stitches between the white and teal components of her body were still just barely visible.

“You have hooves.”

“Yes,” said Carillon, flexing them. “I’ve been meaning to do this for some time. I suppose I never had the impetus to do so until now.” She looked at the substantial part of her side that had been replaced, knowing that new organs sat beneath it. A new stomach, a new spleen, part of a new liver- -and a new heart that beat very different from her own.

“I’m calico,” she said. “I…I suppose I can dye it. Nopony will even be able to…to tell…”

Her face scrunched up in a frown and she covered it with her foreleg. So that Dulcimer would not see her cry.

“Carillon? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. My body…this…this is an acceptable cost. For our goal. But…but…”

Dulcimer approached her and helped her off the table. She stood on her shaky legs, and he hugged her, kissing her forehead just below her horn. “You are alive. That’s what counts. I was so afraid. I was prepared to offer it to you again. The choice I made.”

Carillon shook her head. “No. No, I’m not ready to pay that cost. I can’t.”

“And I would never ask it of you. Not for any cause in the world. It is a choice one must make on their own.”

“And one you regret?”

Dulcimer frowned. “I do not have the capacity to regret.”

“But…but…” She looked up at him. Both of her eyes were filled with tears. “This body. I’m…never mind. If I was not able to continue our bloodline before, being more ugly hardly matters.”

“You are not ugly. Your scars only show your devotion to the Order. And I imagine stereoscopic vision is a benefit as well.”

Carillon smiled. “It is nice to be able to see you properly again.”

“I’m just glad you didn’t sew wings onto yourself.”

“Don’t be ludicrous, it doesn’t suit you.”

They hugged again. As they did, the door opened behind them.

Dulcimer turned as a robot stepped in. His single lens focused on them.

“Grandmaster Dulcimer. High Seneschal Carillon,” it said, speaking in a voice that almost betrayed sentience.

“The core?”

“Stabilized for now. I have been able to slow progression but not stop it. Regardless, a more pressing matter requires your attention.”

Dulcimer frowned. “What kind of matter?”

“An intruder has breached the lower flight bay.”

Solum Finis stepped through the Questlord base with absolute impudence. The bay had been meant to sustain a small air force; in ancient times, it would have housed the vast steel flying machines that unicorn soldiers would have used to engage in air-battles. A few of the ancient machines still existed, rusted and decayed, the knowledge of their function long-since lost by all but the deepest of loremasters. Instead, it had been coopted into a hanger and deployment area for Pegasi. Pegasi who quite obviously did not appreciate an enormous silver pony walking down their runway and through the enclosed hanger.

They had opened fire. Their weapons were numerous and varied: there were ones that threw bullets, arrows, and rockets, as well as weapons charged using magical crystals or other sources of magic. Others swarmed around him like tiny uniformed bees, trying to find openings to attack.

Yet their efforts were completely in vain. No projectile could penetrate Solum Finis’s armored skin, and bullets and arrows bounced away harmlessly without even producing dents. Magical beams were reflected, even though he bore no runes. Even when the Pegasi decided to concentrate their fire on the damaged parts of his body, Solum Finis received no damage.

This did not especially amuse the Argasis but it did not bother him either. It did make him wonder, though. His kind and those that had created them had been rendered extinct in a war that he could barely remember. They had been swatted down like flies, consumed by protean liquid flesh. Yet these ponies, the greatest warriors of their civilization, could not even harm a dying Argasus. Had the War occurred in this latter age, their world would have burned in a matter of minutes.

He passed through unhindered, only to find that they had closed the blast doors at the rear of the hanger. This had effectively sealed the Pegasi in with him. That seemed crude of them, but he imagined that they were analogous to the expendable castes in his own society.

A door, of course, meant nothing. He extended his wings forward and slid the bladed metal feathers through the steel. It cut away like butter against his body’s silver, and he pushed it apart with ease using his hooves. The hallways inside were narrower, but a few of them were large, meant for heavy transport coming out of ancient antigravity carriers. He followed those, moving unhindered deeply into the base.

Dulcimer and Carrilon found him deep in the facility, in a quiet, darkened area. The cool, sterile stone of the ancient structure had been overlaid with new, modern equiptment that supported a number of pods. Each one glowed lightly from within. Solum Finis was leaning toward one, staring at the contents: a tiny, white fetus linked by its naval to an artificial placenta. The walls were covered with them, peacefully sleeping and growing, their minds already being programmed for the wars that they would fight. The particular one that Solum Finis was observing would become a stallion. He already had a tiny pair of wings growing.

Carillon approached Solum Finis angrily. He knew she was there but could not see her. He had no eye on that side of his face. He had torn it out on a whim long ago.

“You,” she said. “Break one of my pods and I will break you.”

“I doubt you could,” he said, not taking his eyes off the adorable fetus. “My body is made of hypercrystalline silver. Your civilization does not even have the capacity to manufacture it.”

“And just how would you know about our civilization?” asked Dulcimer, joining the now bicolored female knight that stood at his side.

Solum Finis turned. The mechanisms in his eye narrowed on the knights. “These children,” he said, gesturing to the countless artificial wombs. “Tell me. You are their mother, little one. Do they dream?”

“They don’t have developed brains.”

“Don’t they? Neither do I. In fact I lack what you would even call a brain, or a nervous system. Yet I still dream. I like to think that they do too. Perhaps they dream the same dreams I have, but on a much shorter scale.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning I have witnessed the rise of your civilization. I have seen endless war and the birth of gods, witnessed the lives of the creatures you call ponies.” He turned back to the fetuses. “I have never dreamed this, though. I like it. Aren’t they adorable? They remind me of me. I like them was forged in a vat, grown from a single spore by a master Aurasus child-crafter.” He paused, and gently put his silver hoof on the glass of the pod. The baby Pegasus within smiled and twitched slightly. “I was beautiful once. Like them.”

“Don’t touch that.”

Solum Finis smiled and removed his hoof.

“Why are you here?” asked Dulcimer.

“Because I can sense the Hand. Because it calls to me.”

“You won’t take it.”

Solum Finis stared at him and smiled. He had teeth, and they were unpleasantly sharp. “If I had wanted to do that, I already would have. But that is not my goal. You are the bearers now. You have taken my curse. And yet the dreams still haunt me. And the Hand still calls.”

“You’re not making sense.”

“Because he’s insane,” added Carillon.

“Not insane. No. But I’ve dreamt. I’ve dreamt in both directions.”

Carillon rolled her eyes, but Dulcimer gave pause. He alone remembered the ancient seers, the ones who had made profound sacrifices not for life but for sight.

“And what did you see?”

“I peered into the past,” said Solum Finis. “Across impossible expanses of time. To my own era, but that only made me sad at what I have lost. So I looked further. So much further…”

“What did you see?” demanded Dulcimer, stepping forward with anticipation.

“I saw our creation,” said Solum Finis. A disconerning smile crossed his face. “Not my own. I already know that. We are the Argasi. We were created by the Aurasi to assuage their loneliness. Just as we created the Brontasi to serve as workers. What you call a Neightonic hierarchy.”

“The lie we tell the Pegasi,” said Carillon.

“But much more visceral. The Aurasi were the most perfect beings to exist. Beings with bodies of pure gold. And of them, atop the summit of Olympus, sat the greatest of all. The Golden Lord.” He leaned forward suddenly. Neither unicorn backed away. “But,” he said, “who was it who created the first of the Aurasi? Who was it that gave our kind life?”

“Don’t waste our time with rhetorical questions,” ordered Carillon.

“Such a boring mare. The feathery one would not have been so sour. Fine. I have looked into the past, and I saw THEM. The creatures of legend, those that gave birth to the Golden Lord and to the Aurasi. The Adamantasi. The creatures who descended from the sky and breathed life into us in the era of the Blue-Lit Flowers.” He laughed suddenly. It was a grating, broken sound. “And only later did I realize what that meant, what I truly was guarding.”

“And what was that?”

“A Hand of the Creator.”

Dulcimer shivered. He had considered the possibility that the Hand was, in fact, a Hand, but had refused to allow himself to consider what it might have come from. It was easier to leave that line of reasoning alone, and to consider it an extremely dangerous artifact, as powerful as it was deadly, if not more so.

“Noble creature of silver,” he said. “What is it you seek?”

“I have seen the future. I have witnessed the return of the Golden Lord, born again from his sacrifice and changed only in bearing one amethyst eye, the mark of his resurrection. From him our civilization will be reborn.”

“And that I cannot allow,” said Dulcimer, suddenly. “You know that. I have sacrificed everything to ensure that ponies govern themselves rather than be ruled by immortal kings or queens.”

Solum Finis stared at him, almost in disgust. “Why would we have an interest in ruling YOU? You are insignificant to us. Insects, barely. I only find you cute because I lived alone in a cave for two million years. Our only interest would be in ruling ourselves. Your Equestria is not our concern.”

“I cannot guarantee that.”

“No. I suppose you can’t. But I know the Hand. Better than anypony. And I know that I can control it. Better than you can, at least.”

Dulcimer looked at Carillon, and could tell that she did not approve.

“For what price?”

“For the resurrection of a single Aurasi. A single golden god. A working Necroforge would have more than enough power. To do that and more. The Hand of the Vandrare willed us to be once, and it will will us again. I’m sure of it.”

Dulcimer paused, considering. “If you can provide useful help,” he said, slowly, “then we will offer you help as a friend and ally of our cause.”

“I do not agree with this course of action,” said Carillon.

“Your disagreement is noted,” said Dulcimer. “But the final decision rests with me.”

“Of course, Grandmaster. Thank you for considering my input.”

Dulcimer did not know if that was meant to be sarcastic, nor did he care. “Please. Let her children sleep. Come with me. Absence is in great pain but holding. See if you can help her.”

“Of course,” said Solum Finis, smiling. He followed the ponies, wondering if they knew. He doubted the female did, but the male- -or the one that had once been male- -might have known. They were now locked in a game, but it was a simple game, one with only one outcome. Solum Finis already knew that he would not be the one to betray them. That would happen all on its own.
 

Chapter 65: Negotiations

Daring Do was shoved hard into an uncomfortable chair. Rainbow Dash, likewise, was pushed into a chair on her left, and White was forced into one on her right. The bison who had done the marehandling snorted, staring at them angrily in their business suits and feathers. Daring Do supposed that the feathers meant that this particular group was female, although otherwise she was totally incapable of telling the difference.

White looked at her questioningly. She wore an eyepatch over one empty socket, but the other had been filled with an artificial eye borrowed from her sister. They each now only had one eye, but both were able to see.

They were seated in a long room. The floor was made of green marble edged with solid gold grout and covered in a pale carpet made entirely out of sea-silk. Ancient tapestries lined the walls, as well as the skins of various endangered monsters. A few displays had been assembled at the perimeter; antique statues dressed in violet-dyed silken robes, as well as a preponderance of hideous ceremonial weapons. Weapons that despite their bizarre shapes and blades were still quite sharp and lethal.

“Mane this place is creepy,” whispered Rainbow Dash. “Really, really cool, but so creepy.”

“Thank you, dear.”

Daring Do stiffened at the sound of the voice, knowing that it unmistakably belonged to her “sister”. Wun Perr-Synt entered from a side door. Two ponies followed her. One was Chunky Milk, who was directed to stand by the door by one of the bison. The other was a pale unicorn dressed in full tack, complete with blinders. His horn had been mostly cut away, and he was shaking as Wun bade him to stand beside her chair. The unicorn stared at Daring Do pleadingly, and Daring Do realized that she recognized him.

“Wait. You were one of Caballeron’s henchponies. Oxford.”

The pony whimpered softly and lowered his head as Wun stroked her hoof through his mane. “So you recognize him,” she said, smiling. “Yes, isn’t he a stunning specimen? As you know, I’ve always had a weakness for academics.”

Chunky cleared his throat angrily from across the room. He was turning several shades darker than his normal pinkish appearance, and Wun continued to smile. She was enjoying herself to no end, although Daring Do knew that her joy hid a deep well of seething anger. This conversation was not going to be easy.

“It looks like you did a number to his horn. Doesn’t that lower the value?”

Wun laughed softly. “Oh no. I couldn’t have him using magic while I train him, could I? You have no need to worry. I did not cut it to the quick. It will grow back. Long, hard, and beautiful. And oh, he will be talented. My own professional thief. Who knows? Perhaps he might ensure that you get a competent niece.”

Chunky suddenly stepped forward. Wun’s horn flashed and he froze, not by her magic but out of fear alone.

“Dear husband,” she said, icily. “I am in the middle of a very important conversation with my dear sister. Do NOT interrupt me.”

“But Wun, you can’t- -”

“I am WEARING more wealth than your family has ever known. I can do whatever I please, even if that means assembling an entire stable of unicorns for my disposal. Actually that’s not a bad idea. Now either close your mouth or go outside and flirt with the mare that I cannot manage to extricate from my trees.”

Chunky recoiled, but did not leave. He retreated to the side of the bison, who looked at him with only contempt. They, unlike him, knew how to treat their boss with proper respect.

Daring Do chuckled. “You always had a way with stallions.”

“Only because I was not hard-set on the exotic sort, dear sister.” She paused. “Or perhaps I never had the luxury. After all, I have a bloodline to keep pure.” Her eyes turned to Rainbow Dash, and to the dial ticking in her chest. Wun clearly saw it, but did not acknowledge it quite yet. That was not how her conversations tended to flow. “Although,” she said, “I imagine the stallion who helped you produce this specimen was quite a stud indeed.”

“She’s not- -”

Daring Do kicked Rainbow Dash, and Rainbow Dash luckily caught the hint. “Yeah,” she said. “My dad has the same mane as I do.”

“Of course. There always has to be one unique element, of course. Although in all honesty I’m rather surprised you were born without stripes.”

Rainbow Dash blushed, even though Daring Do had seen her carefully inspecting Caballeron’s mercenary associate.

“Can we cut to business?” asked Daring Do.

“Are you in a hurry?”

“Yes, but my time hardly matters. I know how expensive yours is.”

“Indeed,” said Wun, leaning forward. She was far taller than any of them and seemed to tower overhead. “But I am glad to take my time to do this. Just as I am glad to take time training this academic thief, or inspecting my collection. I savor things that I enjoy. Even if that includes causing pain.”

“Wun. I can explain.”

“Why you managed to break into my collection with my supplier, ruining my security system and escaping with one of my most valuable artifacts? Really. I would be interested in the explanation for that.”

“I had nothing to do with that. I knew Caballeron was coming here- -”

“And you did not warn me? Your own sister? I have mechanisms to deal with that. The artifact could have been returned to me without ever leaving the premises. Now I have no idea where it is, or what condition it is even in. No, you did not steal it. But you are partly responsible.”

“I know where the Spear is.”

“Really. Then you wouldn’t mind returning it.”

“We…still need it. Just for a little longer.”

“No you do not. It is mine. I paid for it, and it belongs to me.”

“It doesn’t belong to you!” exclaimed Rainbow Dash, standing up. “It belongs to Commander Hurricane- -”

“Or to her bloodline, perhaps?” One of the bison slammed Rainbow Dash back into her chair. “Is that what you came here to claim? Because having a rainbow-colored mane like she did does not make you her heir. I own the Spear of Extinction. It belongs to me.”

“The Spear is Exmoori.”

Wun froze. Oxford recoiled almost instinctively, even as Wun gently ran her hoof through his mane. Her gaze slowly turned to Daring Do. “Do you have proof of this?”

“I have it on the world of an expert.”

“And which expert would that be?”

“Corvius Flock. I think you know him.”

A look of great contempt crossed Wun’s face, as though she had just eaten something horrible tasting for the sole sake of destroying it. “Flock. Of course he would have something to do with this.”

“You know him?” asked Rainbow Dash.

“Of course. He came to me, a powerful and handsome wizard reeking of dark spells. Something I have seen so rarely in my time. A Stallion in Black. We opened negotiations.”

“For what?”

“For him to examine my collection. For him to have access to the Spear of Extinction. In exchange for granting me what I want?”

“Apart from an heir?”

Wun hissed softly. “You wound me, sister. The implication that I would contaminate my bloodline so deeply. No. He promised me something I desire even more than that. He offered an Exmoori artifact.” She leaned back. “But now I learn that I had one all along. One that he took from me and has not returned.”

“You didn’t let him take the Spear?”

“Of course not. That was never part of the deal. Just research access, to confirm its provenance. He did ask, but I denied it. He seemed amiable to that response. But now I have no doubts that he was assisting Caballeron in its theft.”

“That son of a- -”

“Chunky. You know I love you. But when I’m angry, I like to hang things. Unicorns by their horns, Pegasi by their wings. What do you think I would hang you by, though?”

Chunky gulped and fell silent again.

“Sycophant,” muttered Wun under her breath. “Speaking of wings. I have an ultimatum for you. Bring me the Spear. No negotiations, no delay. Bring it back.”

“Or what? You’ll break my wings?”

Wun laughed softly. “Your old, arthritic wings would barely notice. You’re on the verge of being flightless anyway. No. I’d rather ruin a different career.”

One of the bison lurched forward. Before Rainbow Dash could move, she grabbed her wings through the slat of her chair. Rainbow Dash’s eyes went wide and she cried out.

“W- -WAIT!” she cried, struggling- -but quickly stopping when she felt the pressure on her most precious organs. “Wait! Daring Do- -”

“Normally,” said Wun, calmly, “I would have one snapped. A compound fracture, one that would take months to heal. In the process your balance would be ruined so that you cannot even walk. I would wait for the other. The longer you take, the longer it goes without being set. Take too long and it will never heal. Don’t come back at all and I break the other personally, using magic. In a way that will never heal at all.”

“Daring Do- -” Rainbow Dash was now pleading, but Daring Do remained stoic, standing ahead.

“She’s just a girl,” she said. “I’m not flightless yet. If you have to take a set of wings, take mine.”

“No,” said Wun. “I could hardly injure you. We are sisters. Likewise, nor could I injure my niece.”

The bison released Rainbow Dash, and she nearly collapsed with relief.

“However, this one with the strange eye. I don’t recognize her. I don’t mind turning her into an earth-pony.”

The bison grabbed White’s wings. White stiffened, but braced herself. Daring Do winced, seeing that she had been trained to deal with torture like this. She was ready and prepared to make that sacrifice if Daring Do asked for it.

“Not even a protest,” said Wun. “Impressive. Or it would be if you were not mute. But that was surgery. This will be quite different. It is not so much the pain, but the significance. It is the same as severing a unicorn’s horn. I have watched it destroy a pony’s identity entirely.”

White closed her eye and braced herself.

“Wait,” said Daring Do.

“For what?”

“For negotiations.”

“There will be none. Break her.”

“I want another artifact.”

Wun held up her hoof suddenly. The bison released some of the tension on White’s wing. The bone actually flexed slightly as it returned to being straight.

“Had any other pony said that to me, now, in this state, I would have done something that would regrettably have ruined my rug. Something satisfyingly gruesome that would make you wish it had just been your wings. But from you I feel no anger. I’m just intrigued. What is it you would ask for?”

“The Masque of Red Death.”

Wun laughed. “Of all the things I possess, the Masque?” She leaned forward. “Do you know what it does? Any pony who touches it, even for a moment, is driven instantly mad. You cannot use it as weapon, or for any gain, apart from admiring it. And believe me, it is genuine. Rest assured in that fact. What do you intend to do with such a thing, dear sister?”

“I intend to wear it.”

Wun stared at her in shock, and then burst into girlish laughter. It was disturbing to hear that sound from somepony over three centuries old. “You? You would wear the Masque? You would be torn apart. Touching it is fatal to the mind, but wearing it? Wearing it is such an impossible thing. Such an impossible assertion.” She leaned forward. “And one that I have no doubt you could. One I would pay to see, in fact.”

“How much?”

“You misunderstand. I would pay you the Masque and the Masque alone. But what would you offer me?”

“I’m just back from an expedition. One concerning the Exmoori.”

Wun could not hide her intrigue. “Really.”

“Sure. And you yourself said you would trade your perfect curved horn for just one piece of their artifacts.”

“Figuratively or literally, yes.”

“I can give you access to the site. The whole thing. Not even the Institute knows about it. You wouldn’t have to abide by any regulations. Take whatever you want.”

“And if I don’t believe you?”

“I’m your sister.”

“True.” Wun seemed to mull over the thought for a moment. “I have additional requests.”

“Name them.”

“Return the Spear to me. Intact and complete. The Masque if you can, but the priority is that Spear, especially now that I know that the thing I desired most was under my nose the whole time. And one additional thing.”

“What?”

“Flock has a unique collection. I’m under the impression that it rivals even mine.”

“I’ve seen it. Yours is just as impressive.”

“Flattery, I am sure, as you are a poor liar. My demands are not great. I want my choice of one artifact.”

Daring Do hesitated. “The things in his collection aren’t safe,” she said. “And I don’t know if he’ll part with them.”

“Then the deal is off.” Wun smiled. “Or perhaps you would like to know which piece I have my eye on?”

“You haven’t even seen the collection.”

“I do not have to. It is right here, now.” She pointed- -at Rainbow Dash’s chest.

“The dial?”

Wun nodded. “I recognize what it is. And I know that there are none known to exist in functional condition. It is both rare and powerful. Both qualities have piqued my attention greatly.”

“Oh he’s not going to like this,” said Rainbow Dash.

“He’ll have to deal with it,” said Daring Do. “Wun stated her terms. And she isn’t going to go back on them. Isn’t that right?”

Wun smiled. “You know me too well, sister.”

Daring Do extended her hoof. “I accept your terms.”

Wun extended her own long, thin hoof and tapped it against Daring Do’s, sealing the bargain. She smiled as she did so. “In retrospect it is lucky you did not take your father’s company. Your negotiating skill is amazingly poor.”

“But good enough to get the job done.”

Wun stood. “Perhaps. I will have the Masque brought to you. If you truly are intent on wearing it, then I bid you goodbye. For one final time, dear sister. I will miss you greatly, and cherish this memory, as it will be the last time I see you.”

“Don’t count on it.”

Wun chuckled softly. “Ah, how amusing you are. Knowing you, you would succeed.”

Daring Do smiled, hoping that Wun could not see how badly she was shaking, because she knew what fate would not be guaranteed to her. But Wun was right- -she would find something, some way out. At least so she hoped.

Chapter 66: The Gift of a Sword

Preparations were underway, somewhere at least. Flock and Daring Do were no doubt hard at work, probably pulling in Rainbow Dash as well. Even Caballeron might have been participating. Caballeron, who Sweetie Drops had originally set out to apprehend. Caballeron who had badly injured an agent that Sweetie Drops had trained personally. Sweetie Drops could not help but wonder how well the young mare was recovering. Perhaps the physical therapy was helping, or perhaps she was still lying in bed, wondering what had gone wrong.

If there had been time, Sweetie Drops might have been lying in a bed beside her. Her body had been badly broken, but it was healing. Or so she thought. It was impossible to know. The body she possessed in Flocks half-real world was a different one, one that would never heal. If her real body would heal while she remained behind, hiding, she was not sure.

And that was what she was doing, at least in her own mind. She had dragged herself away from the others and retired into a distant, quiet room in Flock’s warehouse-castle. Of course, although it was quiet and isolated the room was by no means pleasant.

This particular one took the form of a large hexagon, the walls of which contained recessed niches. The niches themselves were filled with cases with icy glass fronts, and inside were unspeakable monstrosities. Sweetie Drops knew most of their names, and could infer the nearest relatives of the rest. They were horrors that were supposed to have been purged from Equestria long ago, monsters that were now either extinct or had only a few specimens left, all locked away in Tartarus. Many by her own hoof.

They stared at her, almost as if they could see. They could not, of course, but Sweetie Drops was sure that they were still alive. Alive, but frozen. She was familiar with the feeling.

In fact, this place was the only one where she felt comfortable in the whole place. She was well aware of the irony, that she could only feel at peace surrounded by the creatures that had historically been her enemies. Yet they were familiar to her. She understood them. They were things that she knew how to fight. The rules were laid out at the start of any fight, laid out in agency monster-fighting manuals and vedmak grimoires.

At least, there was a time when Sweetie Drops could fight them. That time had probably passed her by. She was not sure if she was glad of that.

A hoof tapped at the doorless opening to the chamber. Sweetie Drops did not need to turn around to see who it was.

“White,” she said.

“Yes,” she said. “I am.”

Sweetie Drops looked over her shoulder. White blinked. Her eyes were large and oddly innocent, even if they were an unsettling red color.

“You’re back. Did you get what you needed?”

“Mother successfully acquired the artifact, yes. What she intends to do with it, I don’t know. It makes me afraid. I saw it. My eye…it’s not the same. I don’t see the same. But I still shivered, as if I had real eyes. It is a very evil thing.”

“It should be. Supposedly it used to belong to an incredibly vicious dark wizard. One of the worst.”

“Mother says she wants to…wear it.”

Sweetie Drops took a deep breath. She did not agree with most of what Daring Do did, considering it too reckless- -but the idea of wearing the Masque of Red Death was outright insane, even by her standards. Nothing good could come of it.

“I’m sure she has a plan,” lied Sweetie Drops. “It’s going to be okay.”

White stared at her. “I wanted to say the same thing to you.”

“Me?” Sweetie Drops was taken aback, and instinctively became defensive. “What’s wrong with me?”

“Nothing. But you were hurt. And it made me feel bad. I…if I could have talked, I could have warned you. That the Grandmaster is not a normal pony. That you didn’t have a chance.” She lowered her eyes. “And if…if I was not afraid, I could have told mother that the pony she trusted was him. But I was too scared.” She looked up cautiously. “Does that make me a coward?”

Sweetie Drops leaned back, trying not to look down at herself. “A little,” she admitted. “But I don’t think it’s binary.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Everypony’s a coward sometimes. And everypony’s brave sometimes. You can’t be one or the other. If you’re all coward, you end up like Flock, hiding out away from anypony at all and only coming out when somepony’s weak and failing. If you’re too brave, you end up like Rainbow Dash and end up getting stuck with a literal buttload of poison darts.”

“But which one am I?”

“How should I know? I haven’t known you long enough.” White looked somewhat disappointed, but Sweetie Drops continued. “But I have to say, so far? You have promise. A little bit at least.”

“Really?”

Sweetie Drops nodded. “The problem is, your training outpaced your age. That’s bad. Really bad. That’s how ponies end up getting hurt or worse. But the advantage? It’s a lot easier for age to catch up to you than it is for training.”

“Like in mother.”

Sweetie Drops was once again taken aback. That was an odd thing to say, but she supposed it was true. Sweetie Drops supposed that she had never considered it consciously, but despite her appearance Daring Do must have been much older than she looked, at least based on what was written in her books.

“You can come in, you know,” said Sweetie Drops. “Unless you’re afraid of the monsters.”

White looked up at them, as if she had not seen them before. “Are you afraid of them?”

“No.”

“I don’t think I am either. They look pretty. I wish I could see them active.”

“Trust me. You don’t. They’re not nice.”

“Neither are you. But I like you.”

Sweetie Drops laughed. White smiled, but only slightly, hesitating strangely. Then she entered the room, and Sweetie Drops saw that she was carrying a long, black scabbard at her side, one constructed of an unidentifiable but extraordinarily aged material.

“What is that?”

For a moment, Sweetie Drops thought that White would draw the sword and finish what her Grandmaster had started. Her body reacted instinctively, positioning itself in a way that she could snap upward. Even as incomplete as she was, she could still get her hooves around White’s throat. She would just need to squeeze for a few seconds. That would be more than enough, even for a Pegasus.

Instead, White held out the sword without drawing it. Sweetie Drops instantly felt ashamed, and wondered what she had become.

“What is this?”

“I’m sorry,” said White. She was unable to meet Sweetie Drops’s gaze, and Sweetie Drops thought she might be crying. “You said the only reason you could not put down your sword because it was given to you by a friend. The Grandmaster broke it, and you are finally free. You don’t have to fight anymore. You can go home, live with your Lyra-friend. Be a normal pony. But you won’t, will you?”

“Did somepony tell you to do this?”

White shook her head. “You would fight anyway. And you don’t have a sword. I don’t want you to get hurt. But I’m giving you a sword. And I’m…your friend. I’m taking what the Grandmaster gave to you. I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. Please don’t hate me.”

Sweetie Drops stared at her, and then sighed. She could have refused the sword, let White keep it, either to throw it away or to keep it as her own. Yet she could not refuse. A gift given like this was not the sort that one could simply turn away.

She took the scabbard. It was made of a strange, hard substance, a substance that Sweetie Drops instantly recognized as dragon skin. The sword inside was oddly heavy, and had a hilt of wound black wire below a silver hoof-ring. What drew Sweetie Drops’s attention, though, was the pommel. It was shaped like the head of a bird- -or a griffon.

With one swift motion she drew the sword. It sung as it was removed from the home that had no doubt held it for countless centuries, yet the blade was neither rusted nor tarnished. It flashed in the light, and Sweetie Drops recognized the unmistakable glint of silver.

Yet the blade was strange. The main body of it was not actually metal, but rather a kind of perfect black colored stone. Sweetie Drops realized that it was made of some kind of obsidian, although not a single piece. Perhaps it had been once, but it has since been shattered. At some point somepony had taken the pieces and carefully reassembled them, lining them with a came of hypercrystaline silver as though they were forging a stained-glass window. The workmanship was unparalleled, and the silver that reinforced the stone blade was inscribed with symbols and runes. None of them were simple or linear, and they resembled the spells of wizards- -but Sweetie Drops recognized them, and they confirmed what the pommel of the sword should have already told her.

“The School of the Griffon,” she said. “My school. This is a vedmak sword.” She looked up at White, her eyes wide. “Where did you get this?”

“I found it. In his collection. I took it, but did not ask. Is that wrong?”

“No. This does not belong to him anyway. And I won’t let him keep it. That would just be too insulting.”

“To whom?”

“To…to some good friends. Friends that wouldn’t want this sword to rot here.”

White continued to stare at her. She had ceased all motion. “Then…I did good? You’re not angry?”

“I’m always angry.” Sweetie Drops slid the sword back into is scabbard. As she did, she could not help but notice the faded symbol emblazoned on it. A symbol of a black crystal. Sweetie Drops shivered, knowing where this sword had been. She vowed to give it a proper scabbard, not one cursed by the insignia of Sombra.

“You did good, White. Thank you.”

White smiled. She enjoyed having friends.

Chapter 67: The Betrayal of the Spear

Flock moved swiftly through his facility. Clearly not swiftly enough, though. The rainbow-Pegasus spotted him from a high vaulted intersection and descended. Flock did not need to see her. In fact, he could almost not see at all, nor did he need to. Instead, he felt the approach of his dial. It ticked with the same frequency of the spell that had bound him eternally to the material plane, an everlasting reminder of his greatest mistake.

“Hey! You!”

“I have a name,” retorted Flock.

“Yeah,” said Daring Do, landing several meters from Flock. As if she were afraid. Flock immediately felt a slight tingle. He liked when ponies were afraid of him, although it had grown to be a quite rare feeling. “You do have a name, don’t you. One you lied about.”

Flock stopped walking. He turned his head back suddenly to see if Rainbow Dash would jump. She did not even flinch. That was not a good sign.

“So the other one told you,” he said.

“Yeah. That you’re Gxh…Gxd…Al’habane- -”

“Stop trying. You’re wasting my time and looking like an idiot. Or rather more of an idiot than normal.” Flock started walking again.

“You were in the Crystal Library.”

Flock stopped once again and turned. “I built most of that library. Did you know that? No, of course not. Why would you. I’m pretty sure I’ve been redacted from history. Which is fine by me.”

“That day. When I was there. I saw a book. The Hand was in it.”

Flock’s eyes narrowed. “You weren’t meant to see that one. Nopony was.”

“Why?”

“Why? Are you that thick? Look at the mess we’re in right now! That’s what happens when ponies know things they aren’t meant to!” He turned away from her. “I had hoped to solve this cleanly. Without you or any others knowing anything. Although I suppose that if the Hand is destroyed, the whole moronic ordeal becomes moot.” His eye flicked toward her. “It’s your fault, you know.”

“Wait, mine? What the heck?! How?!”

“I don’t know, I’ll figure it out later. And give me that!” He pulled the dial from Rainbow Dash’s chest. “You look like a stallion wearing it in the center, it’s not flattering. Of course you’re already hideous anyway. All those feathers…and colors.”

“Yeah. Colors that are pulling your soy-bacon out of the fire.”

“Only by coincidence,” snapped Flock. “Now go do something pointless that results in as little property damage as possible.”

“I have a question.”

Flock paused. “Not my problem,” he said.

“But it’s one you would know the answer to.”

Flock started walking. “I don’t care. Ask the elderly mare.”

“Well I’m not leaving so deal with it. I’m pretty sure you can’t outfly me.”

“No, but I can turn send you back to Equestria. Without the dial.”

“Yeah right. And then who’s going to use the Spear? Caballeron?”

Flock grumbled, annoyed. “I forgot how annoying having other ponies around was,” he said. Then, more softly. “Silversmith would never have been this obnoxious.”

Rainbow Dash either did not hear him or did not care. “So I was thinking,” she began.

“Don’t. It doesn’t suit you. I’ve eaten sheep with better mental acuity than you.”

“I don’t know what ‘acuity’ means but I would bet you all the bits I have that I have loads of it!” She paused. “If I hadn’t spent them all on cider…”

“My point. Go away.”

“No. No, this is important.” She shoved Flock, turning him around. She then immediately recoiled after feeling just how disgusting his texture was. Still, she met his eyes. This terrified Flock deeply, and he froze.

“The Spear of Extinction. It’s Exmoori, right? As in, one of those Exmoor guys made it.”

“Yes.”

“And the Spear was locked to Commander Hurricane, right? Because it was her spear?”

“It was given to her as a gift. I believe I mentioned that.”

“But that doesn’t make sense, then.” Rainbow Dash’s brow furrowed. “All the legends say that that was the spear Commander Hurricane used to…you know…the last Exmoor pony. And that weird skeleton thing at the gate said it really did have blood on it. So…”

“So what?”

“The Spear was a gift from an Exmoor pony…but Commander Hurricane used it ON an Exmoor pony…”

“The same pony, in fact.”

Rainbow Dash’s eyes widened. “Wh- -what?”

Flock smiled, seeing a chance to cause pain. “The Spear is not complex enough to have been made by the Exmoor matron, the one we saw. It also bears traits not characteristic of the Exmoori that indicate that it was forged by her son, Gigantes.”

“But- -he was supposed to have been one of Commander Hurricane’s elite soldiers, one of her most trusted advisors- -”

“And one who gave this spear to her as a gift. A spear that she later tuned back onto him. Hence its name.”

“Name?”

“Its Exmoori name. ‘Extinction’ is a loose translation. It’s the same word that means ‘doom’ in ‘Hand of Doom’. It means death, dishonor, extinction, termination…and most importantly, it means betrayal.”

Rainbow Dash took a step back. “But that’s not- -she wouldn’t! She can’t!”

“Commander Hurricane predates me, but only slightly. I recall when her legend was young. She was not a nice pony. Quite ruthless.”

“No! You’re lying!”

“Why would I?”

Rainbow Dash shook her head. “But…he was her friend? Right? He had to be, to give her something that epic. But she…she…” She looked up at him. “She…”

“Betrayed him. Perhaps that was how she finally managed to defeat an Exmoori warrior. Because he did not expect the spear to come from behind.”

“NO!” screamed Rainbow Dash. She was panting hard; her body in the shadow-realm was weak. Still, she hardly seemed to notice. “But- -but I’m the Element of Loyalty! And she- -”

“Is your ancestor. She quite clearly did not share your obsession with such a quaint and pointless topic.”

“But…he was her friend…”

Flock turned around and returned to his tasks. “What I cannot comprehend is why you asked in the first place. You had somehow already managed to reason most of it out. What, did you expect me to lie? My advice: be more like her. Everypony is disposable. Each and every one of them.”

“Even Sombra?”

Flock looked at her suddenly. Had he not seen the look in her eyes, he would have struck her. It stopped him, though, and something stirred within him. He had forgotten what it was named.

He gave no reply, and turned away. He could not answer, because he did not know to.
 

Chapter 68: Red Mist

The dial flashed, and Daring Do once again felt the world fall away from her. The familiar sickness that came with it arose within her, but she had not eaten in days and managed to keep whatever was left down. Still, she could feel a sensation that had become tragically familiar: as she reemerged into Equestria, she suddenly felt the weight of years. Every bone she had broken in her life, every dislocated joint, every strained tendon that had to be fixed by surgery or elixir, all of it came back to her at once. Her body, like her brain, remembered her many adventures, but thought of them less fondly.

Rainbow Dash was beside her, and she immediately began to collapse without a pulse. Flock immediately slapped the dial onto her chest, and Rainbow Dash inhaled sharply and painfully.

“BUCK ME FOR APPLES!” she swore, borrowing a particularly vulgar expression from a particular friend. She looked around. “Where am I?”

The question did not really require a response, as it was already apparent. The gallium coolant pools had hardened into silver, crystalline surfaces, and the air had grown desperately cold in response, but it was still the same place that had once housed the Hand of Doom. Now, though, the whole of it seemed to have gone profoundly and eerily silent. The ancient walls no longer seemed to resonate with magic, but rather with a dead sense of quiet relief. No machines hummed beyond; they had all stopped with their power source removed.

New systems had been constructed, though. Flock had been busy. Parts that he needed had been salvaged from what the Questlords had left behind, as well as the ancient Exmoori artifacts. Yet precious little seemed to have been built.

“What did you do?” asked Daring Do, catching up to the wizard.

“I eliminated things that are dangerous,” he responded, curly.

“Meaning you took them back to hide them,” called Rainbow Dash.

“I did NOT request your presence here!” he spat.

“Where I go, she goes,” replied Daring Do. “At least until this is over.”

Rainbow Dash squealed softly. Flock just glowered. “Why?” he asked, sarcastically. “Don’t you trust me?”

“No. Not at all.”

“Well that is going to make this all very challenging, then, isn’t it?” Flock looked to Daring Do’s side. “Did you do as I requested?”

Daring Do nodded and held up an article obscured beneath her thick coat. Flock sneered when he saw that it was a whip, albeit one of exquisite quality made of an unusual inky-black leather.

“Of all the weapons for you to choose.”

“You know what a sword does to a pony. No. For me, just a whip.”

“‘Just a whip’. Do you have any idea what that even is?”

“I have a pretty good idea.”

“A whip braided from the living sinews of Moloch.”

“Completely unbreakable. Completely immune to magic.”

“Didn’t know you were into that sort of thing, Flock,” joked Rainbow Dash from the rear.

“I believe you would be quite appalled if not outright traumatized by what I’m ‘in to’. That said, no. I kept that whip because it is still alive. And I do not particularly think that Moloch would appreciate his sinews being used in a toy, especially if he is allowed to regenerate.”

“I’ll keep it in mind,” said Daring Do, putting the whip back- -carefully. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“The dial. You couldn’t teleport here before.”

“Yes. Because somepony shut down the security interlocks, letting the Questlords in and the Hand of Doom out in the process. This whole facility is collapsing. First magically, then structurally. And…”

Daring Do raised an eyebrow. “And what?”

“And it’s been working more efficiently than normal. Vastly more efficiency. Several orders of magnitude.”

“Yeah,” said Rainbow Dash, poking the thing in her chest. “Harvestor rebuilt it. I forgot to mention that.”

Flock turned sharply. “Who in the name of Satin is ‘Harvestor’?”

“Hey!” called a female voice, interrupting them. Daring Do looked down one of the hallways to see Argiopé waving to them. She was still comparatively weak, and her form had not fully stabilized. Instead of existing as a black changeling, she had apparently decided that she liked white, and her current form more closely resembled a unicorn/changeling hybrid than either a complete illusion or a complete lack of one. She was dressed heavily in real coats, specifically several that she had apparently borrowed from the zebra.

Daring Do approached her, but carefully. Once again, it was a matter of distrust. That, and the fact that it was quite apparent just from the look of sour but oddly civilized contempt on her face that the changeling hated Daring Do deeply. Whether it was just pure jealousy, Daring Do did not know, nor did it matter. She did not intend to work with Argiopé or Caballeron for a minute longer than she had to.

“You’re late,” she said.

“I’m a wizard,” growled Flock. “And a wizard is never- -”

“I had time to knit myself a new set of lacy undergarments using my own silk. Don’t tell me what I know about time or I will ram my tiny changeling horn in a place that tends to make the vast majority of stallions scream quite loud.”

“Loudly,” corrected Flock.

Argiopé’s jaw tightened, and her horn ignited with green light. Daring Do stepped between them. “This isn’t the time for flirting.”

“I’m not flirting,” snapped Flock.

“If my mouth is opened and not stuffed with some stallion’s love, I am,” snapped Argiopé. “I take professional pride in that fact. But if you touch me, I will bite your leg off.”

“Fine,” said Daring Do. “You two can dismember later. Can we get going? It’s really cold here.”

“I’ve noticed,” snapped Argiopé, although she did acquiesce. She turned quickly- -being sure to flick her tail into Daring Do’s face- -and started leading them deeper into the hallway.

Rainbow Dash followed, but turned to Flock. “Was it just me, or did that sound really, really dirty?”

“I’m already nauseous thinking about it,” growled Flock. “Have you ever seen four hundred crows vomit in unison?”

“No. But…I kind of want to now…”

“No you don’t. So don’t even imply what you’re trying to imply. Changelings are almost as grotesque as Pegasi, although at least they have proper chitin.”

“Besides. A proper mare should be taller than a stallion. That’s only natural.”

Argiopé turned around and stuck her exceedingly long, forked tongue out at him- -all while reducing her height by at least four inches.

“Hey,” said Daring Do, looking back. “Wasn’t Clover the Clever taller than you?”

Flock nearly squawked, and feathers immedicably became visible protruding from his coat. He then proceeded to unleash a horrible tirade of swear words cursing Clover the Clever and her entire bloodline- -forward and back- -in his unintelligible native language.

“See? That shut him up,” said Daring Do to Argiopé.

“Ha.” Argiopé smiled slightly. “I usually have to stick something in their mouths to make them do that.”

Argiopé led them down the hallway to an offshoot room. It was one of the few places left in the facility that was still lit, although not by any part of the facility itself. Rather, Daring Do recognized the glow of a crystal. Not the ordinary source used for light, though, that generated crisp if cold white light, but one that produced a slowly pulsing orange-red flame. The kind that was meant to substitute for a campfire.

They entered the room, and Caballeron looked up at them. The glow of the reddish crystal cast long shadows and made him look far more threatening than Daring Do supposed he actually was. Although bundled in coats, he seemed cold and annoyed.

“You’re late,” he snapped.

“We just had a conversation about it,” said Daring Do. “It was nice.”

Flock entered the room, and Caballeron’s expression only grew more sour.

“Is it here?” asked Flock.

Caballeron nodded and pointed to the farthest, darkest corner of the room. Atop an ancient stone altar sat a case. It was aluminum, and fashionable in a cold, clinical sense- -but Daring Do know all-too-well that it was lined with thick layers of enchanted lead. She knew, because it was heavy- -and because it had not been disturbed since she had placed it there hours earlier.

“You didn’t try to steal it?” asked Caballeron.

Caballeron turned to her looking aghast. “Of course not. Unlike you, I am actually a sensible, reasonable pony- -and one who recognizes artifacts that are not safe to handle.”

“Like in the Pit of Eight Wings?”

“That was TWENTY years ago! Celestia’s divine flank, will you not let me live that down? I learned my lesson! And I know that THAT- -” he pointed at the case “- -is something that ought NEVER be toyed with.”

“I don’t see why we couldn’t do this in your fancy castle,” whined Argiopé. “It was at least warm there even if your sense of décor is worse than my mother’s.”

“I would have, but I don’t want it there,” said Flock, approaching the case with unusual caution. “Not around that many artifacts. Depending on how this goes, it could become an unmitigated disaster.”

“So you brought it here?”

“This place is at least designed to handle magical…phenomena. And my inventory could have very negative repercussions in the wrong hooves.”

Daring Do looked at him, trying to decide what he was feeling. He was difficult to read, but the expression on his face was uncharacteristically distant. That meant he was either terribly afraid or extremely apprehensive for a different but unidentifiable reason.

Flock unclipped the clasps at the back of the case and flipped it open. He inhaled sharply when he saw it. Beneath all the shielding, wrapped in delicate, perfectly cut foam, was a red mask- -the Masque of Red Death.

“I never thought I would see this again,” he said. “Not until I saw it in her collection. I thought it had been lost, or even been destroyed…but here she is.”

“She?”

Flock turned to face the ponies. The red light of the crystal pulsated ominously in his sickly eyes. “Do you know what this is, Daring Do? Not just its name. What it is. Where it came from.”

Daring Do stared back at him, not sure why he was asking, and even less sure that the look on his face was fear. “It’s the mask that Scarlet Mist wore. She was one of the Dark Thirteen. Just like you.”

Argiopé gasped, and hugged closely to Caballeron. Caballeron grew pale. Daring Do supposed he may have been suspicious, but had probably not even stopped to consider which dark wizard he might have been working with- -considering such a thing, after all, would not result in increased pay.

“That is a profound oversimplification,” said Flock, suddenly seeming almost insulted. He turned back to the mask, and it seemed to stare up at him questioningly- -or accusingly. “Scarlet Mist is not a pony. She is a concept.”

“And in case we don’t understand what that means?” said Rainbow Dash. She gestured toward Caballeron. “For, you know…”

Flock turned sharply, but his expression had grown soft. “It was before I was born. At that time, there was a sorceress of immense, almost immeasurable power. What you would call a pureblood, one of the last. She was a gray wizard.”

“Meaning?” asked Rainbow Dash.

“Meaning neither good nor evil,” explained Daring Do. “Not white, like somepony like Starswirl or Clover the Clever…but not dark, like Flock or Sombra.”

Flock recoiled at the sound of his nemesis’s name, but seemed to be greatly appeased by having his name equated with that of his master. “She was unique. Perfect, elegant, and beautiful beyond compare. A pony neither ruled by petty morality nor the demons of hate and greed. One capable of absolute and true freedom.” He slowly looked back at the mask. “And then she destroyed all that.”

“How?” asked Argiopé, sensing that this might be a familiar type of story.

“She was a fool. A profound fool. She did not want to be gray and balanced, but was tempted by the light. She wanted to be pure and good, to sacrifice what made her perfection possible. So she created this.” He gestured toward the mask. “Using a powerful spell, she bound all the negative parts of her- -hate, anger, jealousy, greed- -into a mask. She left light and pure, and threw this part of herself away. Left it to rot.”

“But it didn’t rot,” said Daring Do. She shivered and felt goosebumps rise on her neck. “It’s still here.”

“Because you cannot sever part of yourself so easily. A fragment of the soul is still a fragment of the soul, even if torn free of the body. The Masque did not remain a simple vessel. It began to think. To hate. To resent the pony who had robbed her of a body.” He looked at Daring Do, and at Caballeron, Argiopé and Rainbow Dash. “The Masque is not what Scarlet Mist wore. The Masque of Red Death is Scarlet Mist.”

Caballeron and Argiopé moved back suddenly. They could already sense the evil radiating from the Masque, the strange dark sensation that rose from it the same way that heat rose from the crystal in the center of the room. It was disturbing to look at. Daring Do had sensed this as well, and even Rainbow Dash had some instinctive loathing of the artifact.

“Touching that mask is fatal,” said Caballeron. “None have ever survived it. It drives them mad.”

“Only because she has given up. Her body persisted into my lifetime. It was ruined by pointless self-sacrifice- -and then disappeared entirely. She spent centuries searching, but she’s given up. Madness is not the effect of the Masque, it is her will. She does not want to be awakened unless she can be given back her true body.”

“Then why do we even have it?” asked Argiopé.

“Because I plan to reawaken her.”

The ponies- -even Daring Do- -stared at him as if he were insane.

“You fool,” said Caballeron, standing suddenly. “You’ve already doomed us with the Hand, and now you want to resurrect one of the foulest sorceresses ever to walk this land?”

“I’m not a soldier,” snapped Flock, stepping toward Caballeron. “Right now, what do we have? An unmutated vedmak girl, two half-blind clones, a zebra who won’t even lift his spear unless I pay him, one earth-pony that can barely walk and one who is barely smart enough to punch things, a changeling, an elderly Pegasus, a girl with no working organs, and YOU. If we are going to take on an ancient order of ultra-knights, I need more power.”

“There are better ways to do that!”

“With what? How would I get them? How long would it take? To raise an army, maybe? I don’t need an army if I have HER!”

“But we cannot awaken her anyway,” noted Argiopé. “The point is moot. You said it yourself. She refuses anything that is not her real body. Unless you have it.”

A sadistic smile crossed Flocks’ face. “If only, if only. But no. Nor do I intend to seek it out.”

“I’m going to try to wear it,” said Daring Do. She felt herself shaking, realizing that there was no going back.

“You can’t!” cried both Caballeron and Daring Do at the same time.

“I have to,” said Daring Do. “Flock and I already discussed it. It’s the only way.”

“I also lied,” said Flock. “She would reject you, even if she were desperate. You are too old and too weak. Although at this point she would simply strip your mind away. As pointless as your existence is, I believe that would be a waste.”

Daring Do hissed under her breath. Suddenly everything seemed to make sense, and she saw where this was going. If she had only known, she would never have retrieved the mask for him. She would never have allowed this to happen. “Then what are you trying to do?”

“I intend to trick it.”

“Wait,” said Rainbow Dash. “We’re trying to trick a mask? A…mask? Are you being serious?”

“Deadly serious.”

“How?” asked Caballeron.

“Scarlet Mist’s desire to reunite with her original body is more powerful than any mortal being can comprehend. We only need the wearer of the Masque to LOOK like her, and it should be enough for her to connect.”

“Look?” asked Rainbow Dash. “How are we supposed to- -OH!” She turned toward Argiopé. “You’re a changeling!”

“Last time I had the doktor check, yes,” said Argiopé. She looked at Flock, meeting his eyes. She looked afraid. “But the point is still moot. I can only replicate ponies I have seen, and this pony existed long before I was even an egg.”

“That’s not entirely true,” said Flock. “You can also draw inspiration from a pony’s mind.”

“I can replicate what they love,” corrected Argiopé. “Yes. I can do that.”

“Then use my mind. Look into it, and you will see her.”

Argiopé gasped, but regained her composure. “You’re not a pony.”

“But I was. Once. Long ago.”

Argiopé continued to scrutinize him, and then sighed. “Alright, then. Let’s see.”

She tilted her head back and took a deep breath. For a moment, she stood still. Then her body flashed with green light. The metamorphosis only took a fraction of a second, and when it was over, a different pony stood before all those present.

Caballeron gasped and Rainbow Dash stared in awe. The pony before them was a perfect replica of the purebloods who had once sired the earliest of unicorns. She stood almost twice as high as any of them, with a pale lavender, nearly hairless coat that faded to white on her narrow hooves. Her horn was enormous and sharply curved, and she had long, pointed ears. Behind her horn sat a long green mane that seemed to flow outward like a delicate cloud of mist; her tail matched it perfectly.

She stared at Flock with a pair of blue eyes. They were not the ones that she normally wore, but a set that represented deep and endless kindness and sensitivity- -something that Argiopé seemingly could at least mock, even if the expression in those eyes could never be sincere.

“This emotion,” she said. “Desire. Fear. Hatred, sadness, but tinged with respect and infatuation…and disgust for her, and for yourself.” She winced. “Wizard, these are not healthy emotions. This love is wrong and failed.”

“Only because she chose to give all she was away to others…or to throw the best parts of herself away.” Flock turned back to the mask and tapped near it with his hoof. A translucent spell appeared over it, assembling like a machine. It drew out the Masque and held it up. Through the reflections on the stone walls, the eyes seemed to glitter with blood-red light.

“What would I need to do?” asked Argiopé.

“Simple. You would only need to put it on. Scarlet Mist will do the rest.”

“No,” said Daring Do, stepping between the mask and Argiopé. “You can’t do that. Not like that.”

“But, Daring Do,” said Rainbow Dash. “We need her.”

“Tell her the price, Flock. Tell her what the Masque actually does.”

Rage floated through Flock’s eyes. Rage that somepony other than him knew. Daring Do, to her disgust, realized that he intended to resurrect his ally without ever having mentioned the cost that others paid for her immortality.

Yet he obeyed. He turned to Argiopé, staring at her almost as though she were the pony he had once loved. “Scarlet Mist is a parasitic lifeform. She does not have a physical body. As such, she possesses the body of whoever she is in contact with. Usually female. Usually an especially talented unicorn. If she has a choice.”

“And then what?” asked Caballeron. He was beginning to sense what Daring Do already knew, and the horror in it ran much deeper in him than it did in her.

“What do you mean ‘and then what’?”

“How does she remove it?”

Flock froze. He paused for a long moment, appearing to think of a way to lie. Instead, though, he told the truth.

“It can’t be. The only pony ever to do so was princess Penumbra Heartbreak, and in one thousand years I have still not deciphered how, exactly. Scarlet Mist supersedes the pony she is attached to.”

“And what happens to that pony?” demanded Caballeron. “What happens to her?”

“Scarlet Mist drains her life force until the host invariably collapses into dust. Apart from Sombra’s daughter, no pony has ever survived wearing the Masque of Red Death.”

Caballeron stared at him, dumbfounded by Flock’s self-assurance and forthrightness. Then he regained some- -but not all- -of his composure. “Well, then, our response is simple. She will not be wearing it. Under ANY circumstances.”

“But she is the only one who can,” protested Flock. “No other pony will be able to become Scarlet Mist except a changeling. And we only have the one.”

“The one. My point exactly. Not ‘a changeling’, wizard. Argiopé. My changeling. A changeling who is very…” He looked up at Argiopé in her unicorn form and faltered. “…important to my work. An invaluable member of my team.”

“We will not be able to win fighting the Questlords. Even know, we’re wasting time. The vandrare is nearing manifestation. And if it does, there are presently no mages in this world who can hope to fight it.”

“We have Princess Twilight,” noted Daring Do. “We can summon her. She’d be glad to help”

“Or Starlight!” added Rainbow Dash. “She’s even more powerful than Twilight!” She paused. “But don’t tell Twilight I said that!”

“They are not willing to do what would be necessary. If it comes down to a clone with a knife and the least-alicorn with her horn alone, which do you think will walk away?”

“You’re asking too much!” screamed Caballeron. “Of all the artifacts! Of all the things we could do! You already have the Spear! You already have that cursed book! And now you want Argiopé to- -to- -”

Argiopé put her hoof on Caballeron’s shoulder. He looked up at her, and she shook her head.

“But…but Argiopé.”

“You can’t shapeshift,” she said. “Only I can. I’m the only one who can do it.”

Caballeron took her hoof between his. “But you don’t have to!”

“Yes. I do.”

“But- -”

“Because if we lose, we lose everything. My queen, my thousands of siblings and cousins…my friends in your organization. And you. I would lose you. As romantic as it would be to meet my end wrapped in your hooves, I cannot allow that.”

“Argiopé, you’re not thinking clearly- -”

“Either we both meet our end, or you survive. I think the choice is obvious.”

She pushed him aside and held out her hoof. “You. Give me the mask.”

Flock smiled.

“No!” cried Caballeron, leaping forward. “I won’t let you! YOU CAN’T!”

A translucent yellow barrier appeared in front of him, and he slammed against it. His eyes widened in shock, and he began to pound on it, but to no avail. “Daring Do! Daring Do!” he cried. “Stop her! You have to stop her!”

Daring Do looked at her, and then at him. “It’s her choice.”

Caballeron’s expression of terror turned into one of rage. “Hypocrite! YOU HYPOCRITE!”

Argiopé sighed, and Flock moved the Masque of Read Death in front of her, turning it around so that she could see the inside. Argiopé grimaced, realizing that it was not smooth but filled with thousands of rigid hair-like structures. Structures that very closely resembled long, thin needles.

“Will it hurt?”

“I don’t know,” said Flock. “If it does, you won’t be the one feeling it. You won’t feel anything at all.”

“So my end isn’t when I turn to dust, is it? It’s when I put the mask on.”

“I suppose that is one way to phrase it, yes. You will cease to be you. Only Scarlet Mist will remain.”

Argiopé looked over her shoulder at Caballeron. A tear dripped from her eye. “So be it.”

“No! NO!” screamed Caballeron. “If you do, you’re fired! FIRED!”

She turned and pressed her face into the Masque.

At first, for just the briefest of moments, there was no response. It was the last point in time where Argiopé existed, and that time seemed to stretch out for eternity, both for Argiopé, who held her breath, waiting for the end and wondering if the tingling on her face meant that the needles were growing- -and for Flock, who wondered if he had failed.

Then Argiopé leapt backward, instantly regretting her choice. She had not understood, but as the Masque of Red Death awakened, she did, all at once. There was no time to think logically about the life she had thrown away, as the pain quickly drove away any possibility of thought of any kind.

Argiopé screamed. Caballeron leapt back, surprised by the sound, and Rainbow Dash jumped, covering her ears. Daring Do closed her eyes, not wanting to watch- -yet Flock watched the process unfold, captivated and smiling.

It had not been a scream that should have every been heard from a pony, or any sentient form of life. It was too wracked by horror, too high and in too many frequencies. It sounded like an entire legion was screaming from within Argiopé, rising high and being distorted through her changeling vocal organs until it was unrecognizable as any sound apart from one of sheer agony.

She suddenly leaned forward, almost bucking behind her as she did so. The motion had been sudden and forced, as if a great hoof had shoved her head back down. Red, inflamed marks were visible leading from the Masque and down Argiopé’s neck. They were a product of the infection as it quickly spread through her body.

Then the infection seemed to burst open. Red poured out from her body, her flesh shifting and morphing at the will of something that was not her own. Clothing formed: numerous layers of red leather streamed out from her body, wrapping and forming themselves into a complex arrangement of clothing that was not unlike something Argiopé might have chosen for herself. Straps formed, and were buckled by numerous clasps that had the appearance of being made from faded gold. A cloak spawned around her, or perhaps some kind of robe made in a design that was forgotten long ago. It seemed to float in the air, and it was clear that it was not cloth but a substance summoned and created by magic alone.

The scream had stopped- -but the relief was only momentarily. A new scream arose. This one was different; deeper. It was the voice of a mare, and even without looking Daring Do felt her breathing stop at the sound of it. There was no pain in that voice. There was no capacity for pain. Only an unending desire to inflict it.

“NO!” she boomed, staring down at herself, her eyes barely visible through the slits of the mask. “No no NO NO! This is NOT my body!” Her attention immediately snapped toward Daring Do. Daring Do was forced to look up, and she saw the pony looming over her. Tall, thin, but no longer beautiful. Any beauty she had possessed was covered in blood-red crimson, and her face was distorted by the hideous mask. Even the eyes beneath it seemed red. Her horn, which in Argiopé’s possession had been long and curved, had partially reverted to that of a changeling. Daring Do supposed her body was, underneath all that fabric, already beginning to shift, ceasing to look like her former self, or even a pony at all.

“You did this!” she hissed.

“Why are you blaming me?!” Daring Do almost jumped back, surprised that she had been able to summon words at all.

“You deceived me. You all deceived me!” She lifted her head and stared upward. “So now you will all die.”

Her body seemed to shift, and the air suddenly became cloudy, the whole room filling up with a red fog. Daring Do held her breath and jumped back, grabbing Rainbow Dash in the process, but it was already too late. She was engulfed with the rest of them.
 

Chapter 69: The Fog of Fear and Sickness

Rainbow Dash was tackled to the ground, and when she struck it she bounced. She watched as the mist hit her, and as it circled around her the dial in her chest clicked audibly. A pale sphere erected itself around her, and the fog seemed to etch and attack at its surface.

“Daring Do?” she cried, stepping back to where she had seen her idol fall. “Daring Do, where are you?”

Something was wrong. There was no visibility, and almost no light, save for a reddish glow that either came from the fire-stone or perhaps more disturbingly from the fog itself. Although the fog could not penetrate Rainbow Dash’s shield, it had surrounded her and made navigation impossible.

Rainbow Dash took several hesitant steps forward. Daring Do was nowhere to be found. So she took more- -and more. Soon she was outright running.

Yet this was impossible. The room was small and roughly circular. She would have been able to cross it in ten seconds flat, even at a light jog. Instead, it seemed to continue onward forever, spreading out as she ran. The fog made her perceptions of thinks like distance highly distorted, but her Wonderbolts training told her that the room had expanded to at least the size of a gymnasium and that she was not running in circles.

Her instinctive response was to attempt to fly, either to get over the fog or to swirl it into a cyclone and dissipate it. She spread her wings and flapped them, but despite the effort she went nowhere. The air from her wings simply passed downward and pressed on the base of her bubble; in a contained environment, she found that she was not able to fly at all.

Which also mean that her air supply was finite.

Immediately, her hoof went to the dial. She had to get help. White, Sweetie Drops, White’s sister, Zel, even Rogue or Withers- -they were all still in the other phase. Maybe even Harvestor, if Rainbow Dash could find her.

But there was no time. Rainbow Dash had no idea what this gas was or what it did, or how long it would take her to get her friends- -or if she could even figure out how to bring them back to this place.

If there was a decision to be made, it was made for her. While she slowed and turned through the fog, trying to find her location, she saw a black shape move through the mist.

“Flock?” she said, shivering for some reason. “Flock, wait!”

She ran toward where the black shape had gone- -and emerged into a space where the fog was thinner, and where there was some visibility.

Flock was there. Rainbow Dash approached him, but stopped when she saw the look on his face. She did not know what it was, or if there was a word for it. Pure terror, perhaps, but it was tinged with something else, the name of which Rainbow Dash did not know.

“No,” said Flock. His voice was quiet and thin, but not quite a whisper. More like a low croak. “No, no, you can’t be here…you can’t…”

“Flock? FLOCK!” Rainbow Dash tried to wave her hoof in front of his face but only hit the inside of her protective bubble. He was not reacting to her; in fact, he was looking off into space. Rainbow Dash turned slowly to see what exactly was so frightening.

What she saw momentarily confused her. It was not terrifying at all, but just strange. The fog seemed to break away, revealing, of all things, a cobblestone street. The fog continued to trail down it, but it grew to a pale green-white, the color of an old bruise. Through it, Rainbow Dash could see a road running through a city of tall, dark buildings lit only by dim gas lights. To her, it looked just like the illustrations of old ninth-century Pondon from her foalhood copy of “A Hearth’s Warming Tale”.

A sound of hooves clicking on cobblestones could suddenly be heard. All else was silent in the fog, save for the almost imperceptible sound of the gas-lamp flames flickering in the night. Rainbow Dash felt her mane stand on end, and suddenly her thoughts were not those of Hearthswarming. Rather, her mind floated to old stories about Equestria’s most infamous donkey, Jack the Snipper.

Except that the figure that emerged from the fog was no donkey. It was a stallion- -or at least Rainbow Dash thought at first. As the features of the pony became clearer, though, Rainbow Dash realized that she was a mare. A large and masculine mare, but a mare nonetheless.

She was dressed in anachronistic clothing; a jacket under a red Inverness cape, with a white puff of a blouse and a silver broach near her neck. She wore no trousers; rather, her legs up to her shoulders and hips were covered in heavy steel boots, and the junction with her flesh was marked heavily with tattoos. Except that Rainbow Dash did not think that they were boots. They did not bend the same way, and she could hear the sound of mechansims driving almost silently as the mare lifted her legs with masterful precision.

Suddenly Rainbow Dash remembered. This mare was the one in the faded sepia photograph in Flock’s castle.

“Corvius,” she said, slowly. She had a Bittish accent, and her voice was remarkably feminine despite her appearance.

“Silversmith,” said Flock. “You can’t be here. You can’t.”

“Why?” she said, anger tinging her voice. “Why can’t I, Corvius? Is it because you killed me?”

Flock let out a low wail. He tried to stifle it, but to no avail. “I didn’t- -you know I didn’t- -”

“Really?” She began to step forward. The cobblestone path seemed to materialize as she moved, forming more of the fog into the street of anachronistic Pondon. “How long has it been? Since when did you learn to lie to my face?”

“I’m not lying! You lived to be ninety four! You died in your bed, peacefully…”

“Peacefully?” sneered the earth-mare. “PEACEFULLY? No death is peaceful, Corvius. You would know that. Or maybe you wouldn’t.”

“I lost you to old age…”

“But you might as well have killed me yourself. I thought I was your friend, I thought my life had some tiny, insignificant meaning to you. But I guess that was too much to ask, now, wasn’t it?”

“There was nothing I could do!” wailed Flock.

“Yes there was. There always was.” She turned and for the first time recognized Rainbow Dash. She slowly lifted a metallic hoof and pointed to Rainbow Dash’s chest. “The dial…”

“No. NO! Your body is cursed- -”

“Cursed because of YOUR failure!” She was suddenly yelling, and Flock shrank. “You took my legs, Flock! You took my life! I dedicated it all to you, to OUR work- -and you let me die!”

“There was nothing- -”

“Was there nothing you could do for Sombra? For YOURSELF? You didn’t have a problem those times, did you?”

“You have no idea what you are asking, there’s a cost- -”

The fog suddenly grew thick. Rainbow Dash was forced to take a step back, almost as though it were exerting force on her shield bubble, both trying to crack it and to push her away from Flock. Rainbow Dash struggled, but could not resist the thickening mist. Before she lost all visibility, though, she saw Flock’s face once more, and saw that he was growing remarkably gaunt. Thin red streaks were slowly starting to cross his flesh, and his eyes were growing distant. She heard him release a slow, somber wail, and then heard no more.

She passed through the mist, and found herself approaching somewhere else. She ran to catch up to it, but it caught up to her first. A new world seemed to roll in around her, coming in in exactly the way the fog departed. This one was not the same as before. Rather, Rainbow Dash found herself in a long hallway with a high ceiling. For the first time in a long time, she was not in a cave or industrial chamber, but instead she found herself in a house. The walls were wood-paneled in mahogany and ebony, and the decorating was sumptuous- -yet somehow the whole of it was dark and ominous.

Thin fog rolled down the edges of the halls past statues, paintings, and trophies that Rainbow Dash did not want to look at. Or perhaps it was smoke, released from a fire or from a pipe. The sight of it made Rainbow Dash feel cold inside, yet, for some reason, she felt her hooves carrying her forward, echoing on the wooden floor.

The hallway was long and dark, but led to a room lit by a fire. For a moment Rainbow Dash wondered if it was the crystal fire, and she had at least found some kind of landmark- -but it was impossible to know.

Instead, she found herself in a kind of study. The furniture it contained was lavish, and many of the decorations were in gold or precious metals, locked in antique cases or set on shelves amongst rare books that had never been read since their purchase. Rainbow Dash could almost smell the scent of the room, but was glad she could not. If she could smell it, that meant the fog had reached her.

The only light in the room was from a glowing, crackling fire. A pony was sitting beside it, facing away. Slowly, though, Rainbow Dash watched him rise. He wore a jacket that would not have looked out of place in the world of the metal-legged mare that Flock was trapped in, but in this case it seemed to be meant to be an anachronism in the opposite direction. It was red, worn open, and a piece of leopard-skin cloth was wrapped around the stallion’s shoulder- -except that Rainbow Dash did not think it was fabric at all.

Rainbow Dash gasped when he rose, because he was Caballeron- -save for the fact that his mane was pure white, and his eyes were piercing blue.

“You little failure,” he said, setting down his cider glass with a clink onto a small table edged with mother-of-pearl. He seemed to be staring at Rainbow Dash.

“Father, I’m sorry.”

Rainbow Dash jumped. She had not realized that she was even standing next to a pony, but she was. He had been hidden in shadows, but now Rainbow Dash saw him clearly: a young colt, thin and sickly, with long black hair tied back into an aristocratic ponytail. His clothing was expensive but well-worn and dark. His eyes sat beneath thick eyebrows, and were downcast. They were also green.

“Caballeron,” said Rainbow Dash, realizing just who the colt was.

“How dare you come here, Pontrancio?”

“Father, I- -”

“Don’t SPEAK unless I TELL YOU TO!” bellowed the old stallion. “The sound of your voice, it makes me sick. And do not call me your ‘father’. A mistake like you does not deserve a father. Does not deserve my name.” He laughed sardonically. “Or is that what you came here for? To get your inheritance early, perhaps?”

Caballeron’s face contorted, but only slightly. The amount of effort he needed to remain composure was vast, but he managed it. “No. I would never.”

“Really?” The elder Caballeron leaned in close. His eyes were vicious, lit by the same light that his son’s eyes would bear later in life. “It doesn’t tempt you at all? The thought of my money? Of having it all to yourself? To squander on your ridiculous degree, or perhaps your pointless adventures in the jungle?”

Caballeron gasped and took a step back.

“You can’t talk to him like that!” cried Rainbow Dash.

“Of course I can,” said the stallion, suddenly turning toward Rainbow Dash and startling her so hard that her wings extended involuntarily. “I am his father, after all.”

He turned back to Caballeron. “Do you think I haven’t noticed, that I wouldn’t realize? What you did to your birthright? Do you think I didn’t SEE?!” He gestured upward, and Rainbow Dash gasped, because the room was no longer beautiful. It had not been for a long, long time. The expensive antique wallpaper was peeling away, and the books had rotted and moldered. The furniture had all been sold, or left to rot from the dripping, mold-encrusted holes in the sagging ceiling. Where paintings had once hung were only voids from where they had been taken and sold; none of the instruments and treasures that lined the room remained. The floor was covered in a thick layer of reddish dust.

“What does the Caballeron name mean, anymore?” asked the stallion, slowly. The boy recoiled, tears rolling down his face as he looked onto the decay of what had once been beautiful and proud. “We had wealth. We had power. We had lineage. But now our manor has crumbled, and our fields are fallow or overgrown with weeds. And what have you done? Fled us for some pointless idea of ‘education’? Or for a life free of responsibility?”

“Father, I’ve tried!” protested Caballeron. “I’ve spent my whole life trying to rebuild! To make our name what it once was! To get back out fortune- -”

His protest was interrupted by the sound of a hoof slapping across his face. Caballeron cried out silently in surprise, even though Rainbow Dash realized that this was familiar to him- -and yet never expected. The force of the blow nearly knocked his weakened frame to the floor.

“A weakling! A useless academic! Tried? TRIED? You’re a mercenary! A criminal! A hired thug! Every day you drag the Caballeron name through dust, through mud and manure, and you have the gall to tell me you are TRYING?!”

“Father, I am- -”

Another blow. “You FAILED! It’s YOUR FAULT! You ended out lineage, brought a thousand years of Caballerons to shame! Look at them! LOOK AT THEM!”

He picked up Caballeron’s head and forced him to stare down the now ruined hallway that Rainbow Dash had just come through. Rainbow Dash looked as well, and realized that it was full of ponies. Stallions, mares, dressed in every kind of clothing from every era- -all staring, all watching, all accusing Caballeron of failing them. Of being the last, and rendering their lives and their every effort pointless. They hated him, and he knew it.

“I’m sorry!” he cried, not wailing but truly apologizing, softly. He seemed even more sickly, with red lines of infection growing from invisible wounds throughout his body. “I’m sorry. Please…please accept my apology, I can’t bear it…”

The elder Caballeron sneered. “None of us will ever accept an apology from you. You do not deserve the name Caballeron.”

The fog grew thick again, and once again Rainbow Dash was forced out. It was not a place she was meant to be, after all; the only reason she could be was because of the dial. Even then, the air in the bubble was beginning to get stale. Her respiration rate was increasing as the dial ticked faster and faster. Time was running out- -but she was beginning to understand.

Once again the fog began to clear. Rainbow Dash knew what was coming. The mist caused pain, drawing on a pony’s worst fears and worst memories- -their shame and their regrets, their sadness and conflict. Flock had outlived perhaps the only friend he had ever had, and Caballeron had lived in the ruined shadow of his overbearing father. That meant that only two ponies remained- -Rainbow Dash herself, and Daring Do.

What Daring Do’s fear was, Rainbow Dash could not fathom. She had thought that she had come to know Daring Do, if only through her stories, and the Daring Do she knew was afraid of nothing. No monster, no hopeless situation, no unsolvable puzzle could contain or defeat her. She would always find a way out- -which meant there was a chance she was immune to the mist. Or a chance that her fear was so horrible and terrifying that Rainbow Dash would not be able to bear looking upon it.

Yet she could not stop. There was nowhere to stop in the red fog, as it spread onward forever in all directions- -and all directions led to the same place. Soon enough, the fog began to grow thin. The vision began to manifest.

And yet as it did, Rainbow Dash suddenly found herself incredibly confused. She had expected something horrendous and ghastly, a place so terrible that even Daring Do would not be able to summon enough hope to find her way out of it. Instead, she found herself in a slightly aging building.

The air smelled strange. Like a combination of cleaning solutions, applesauce both fresh and rotten, and aging bleach. It was unpleasant and unfamiliar, and Rainbow Dash could almost see it drifting through the air as a thin cloud.

Hallways stretched out into the building; their floors were tiled in institutional-grade linoleum, and their ceilings were made of boring white tiles. It was clean, and sun was shining through the windows. Rainbow Dash turned to see a group of elderly ponies sitting in chairs, watching a single old television or reading books. One moved past Rainbow Dash absently, shaking as she slowly moved her walker.

“What?” said Rainbow Dash. “Where the heck am I?”

“You’re right here, silly filly,” said the old mare, smiling and chucking so vigorously that her dentures almost came out.

Still befuddled, Rainbow Dash walked through the area, past a desk where two red-uniformed ponies were sitting. They were meant to be watching the elderly ponies, but instead were looking through a large glass door behind their desk that led to a small courtyard outside.

“She doesn’t want to be with the others?” asked a plump mare.

“Nah,” said a younger stallion. “But it’s not like she knows the difference anyway. There’s nothing in there. Just empty space.”

Rainbow Dash walked around the desk and gasped. Just outside the opened door, sitting in a wheelchair on the wooden porch, was Daring Do. She was old, but somehow still looked youthful. Her face was barely wrinkled, although her mane and the tips of her feathers had become pale yellow-white. It was her eyes, though, that Daring Do found the most heartbreaking. They were blank and empty, staring vacantly at the blooming crabapples in the gardens.

“She wasn’t always like that,” said the mare. “She used to be able to talk. She told me such stories. About adventures and exotic locations, artifacts and handsome zebras.” She sighed. “It was all so strange.”

“An effect of the dimension,” shrugged the stallion, looking at some yellowed papers in a manila folder. “The file says she lived alone. Spent her whole life that way. She was a recluse. She wrote some books, I guess. She’s probably just conflating them with real life.”

The mare laughed softly. “She thinks she’s Daring Do?”

“I guess. I don’t know what the name is. Nobody reads anymore. Nobody cares. All those adventures are just made up anyway. Just the fantasies of a mare who couldn’t bring herself to live a real life.”

“That isn’t true!” protested Rainbow Dash.

“Of course it is,” replied the Stallion. He slapped the folder on the desk. “It’s in the file.” He looked out the window at Daring Do. “None of that stuff ever happened.”

“Yes it did! Ask anypony- -”

“That won’t really be possible,” said the mare. “After all, nopony ever comes.”

“Wh- -what?”

“Duh,” said the stallion. “She’s been sitting in that chair for twenty years, joints too fried to even stand up on her own. Whole body falling apart, but she keeps going for some reason. And that whole time, do you know how many visitors she’s gotten?” He held up his hooves, pressing them together to form the shape of a “O”. “Zero.”

“No! NO! That’s not true!” Rainbow Dash ran to Daring Do, but found that the glass door was suddenly closed- -and had no handle to open it. “DARING DO!” she cried. “It’s me! It’s Rainbow Dash! I’m your biggest fan, and don’t believe ANYTHING those two butts are saying! I know it was real! I know it was ALL real! And I don’t care if you can’t go on adventures anymore, I’ll still come visit you! Every day if I have to! Please, just wake up! WAKE UP!”

Daring Do continued to stare, but her empty eyes slowly turned. For a moment, Rainbow Dash felt her breath catch with anticipation as Daring Do’s brow was slowly furrowed- -and as she raised a thin, sickly hoof covered in badly infected red lines. She pointed.

Then Rainbow Dash looked down- -and saw the hole in her shield, and the red fog flowing in.

The world suddenly vanished and was replaced by something else. Rainbow Dash had to blink as she waited for her eyes to become accustomed to the light. She was no longer in a nursing home, or in a decaying manor, or in the streets of ninth-century Pondon.

Instead, she found herself standing in a grassy field- -although the grass was strange and different from any form of plant she recognized. A pale white-colored fog was slowly drifting over the rolling hills, although there was little light to illuminate. Rainbow Dash looked up at the sky, and saw that although the edges of the world were lit with dim light and the sky somehow showed the lights of a distant cityscape, there was neither a sun nor a moon. She found herself in a world of eternal twilight.

The fog began to part but not clear, and Rainbow Dash suddenly realized what kind of field she was standing in. It was a cemetery.

“Why am I here?” she asked to nopony at all. “I’m not afraid of cemeteries. Unless there are zombies. Are there going to be zombies? Because I’ll punch them right in their FACES!”

She shadowboxed for a moment, but there was no response. Only the chill of the air, and a strange smell she could not place. Like the whole world was burning.

So she started walking, past the collapsed gravestones overgrown with alien vines that had learned in ancient times how to grow in darkness alone. None of the names were legible. They had eroded away or been covered in moss and lichen. No pony would ever know who was buried there.

A sound broke the silence. It was quiet and distant, and although it was not violent or gruesome, it still gave Rainbow Dash chills. It was a dull scraping sound that repeated every few seconds.

That sound was not good, and yet Rainbow Dash began to follow it. Not that it mattered if she did. This space only gave the illusion of multiple paths; every direction invariably led into the mist, and because of that every path would surely lead to the same location.

“I know what you’re doing,” said Rainbow Dash. “I’ve already figured it out. It’s all a trick. To get me to be afraid. Well it’s not going to work, because I’ve already seen it coming. You can’t surprise me.”

She crested a small hill. The fog parted, and she found herself faced by a group of graves apart from the others. One of them was open. The sound coming from it was that of a shovel; a thestral with blue hair and large blue eyes was in the process of digging.

The thestral looked up at Rainbow Dash. She did not smile, but she did stop shoveling and lifted herself out of the grave.

“Funny,” she said. “There’s no skull in that one. I suppose that makes my job harder. But it doesn’t really matter to you, does it?” She shrugged. “Or maybe it does.”

Rainbow Dash had no idea what she meant by that. Before she could ask, the thestral passed into the fog behind her and vanished completely.

“O…kay?”

Rainbow Dash turned back to the graves- -and they had come closer. As she looked, suddenly she understood who they belonged to, and the horror within her started to grow.

There were five of them. At one point, they had probably been relatively lavish, but in the intervening centuries they had been forgotten and left to become overgrown with vines and to crumble under the acid rain of an endlessly industrializing planet. There had been statues, statues that two hundred years ago Rainbow Dash might have been able to name: Applejack, Rarity, Fluttershy, and Pinkie Pie- -and one additional toppled statue, its head severed and half-sunk face-down into the muddy earth.

That was the grave that was open, the one that Rainbow Dash found herself staring into. The shovel still sat on top of the half unburied stone coffin. At one time the top of the coffin had been decorated with gemstones assembled into a symbol, although the gems had long-since been stolen, perhaps by the thestral herself. Their setting was still very clear, though. It was the sign of a cloud producing a rainbow. It was Rainbow Dash’s cutie mark. This was her grave.

“Ohhhh this is bad,” she said. Then, suddenly, her neck prickled. There was something she had not realized, something obvious she had not taken account of- -and something deathly important.

She looked up, and realized that she was not alone. Something was approaching her through the fog. When Rainbow Dash saw it, she took a step back, if only out of some deep, instinctive fear. The creature that approached her did not walk, but floated, trailing long ethereal robes behind it. For a moment Rainbow Dash thought it was Scarlet Mist, but as it emerged, she realized she had no idea who it was.

The figure was immensely tall and gaunt, looking almost as thin and disturbing as Harvestor. Yet it was not Harvestor. This pony had no wings. She was a unicorn- -or had been, once. Now three horns sat in her head: one long, spiraled one that seemed faded and oddly gray, and two carved of metal that penetrated her skull and were surrounded by ancient scar tissue. The formation was exactly like the heads of those strange creatures that had been carved in stone at the entrance to the Necroforge.

The difference was in her face. She wore a mask, but not one like Scarlet Mist wore. Instead, it was shaped almost perfectly like that of a pony, carved or cast out of a single piece of perfect metal. The face had no pupils and no expression. It was blank and devoid of identity.

“Who- -who are you?” asked Rainbow Dash, her voice shaking.

“You know exactly who I am,” said the stranger. Rainbow Dash shuddered because she did, although she refused to admit it.

“No. No, I have no idea.”

“Five graves, Rainbow Dash. Five graves.”

Rainbow Dash gulped and closed her eye as the realization suddenly occurred to her, what she had already known. “Five graves. Not six.”

The pony removed her cloak. There was no word for the rust-colored garment she wore beneath, although it seemed to be some derivative of a containment suit of some sort. The pony beneath was tall and gaunt, but unlike Harvestor and the other ponies seemed to radiate dark power instead of sterile decay. Rainbow Dash understood why. Beneath the cloak, this pony had two gray stumps where wings had once sat. She had long ago been a real, true alicorn.

Then she removed the mask. It was heavy, but moved easily in her red magic. Rainbow Dash closed her eyes, but that did not stop her from seeing. The eyes that stared back had grown old and were bloodshot with whatever disease kept Flock alive, but they were familiar. They were Twilight’s.

“Rainbow Dash,” she said, her voice quiet and friendly- -but covering deep-seated hatred.

“You’re not real,” said Rainbow Dash. “This is an illusion. It’s meant to hurt me, but I won’t let it.”

Rainbow Dash still did not open her eyes- -until a hoof clad in a strange white metal brushed along her face. She opened her eyes to see Twilight’s pale hoof brushing back her mane- -and Twilight staring, unblinkingly.

“Technically?” she said. “Yes. I suppose I am. But only to a point.”

Rainbow Dash took a step back. A hideous smile crossed Twilight’s face.

“See. You understand it already, don’t you? Although maybe you just can’t articulate your feelings. But I can. After all, nopony knows you better than I do.” She looked up at the sky, which was dotted not by stars but by structures built by pony hooves that Rainbow Dash could not comprehend. “Not here, especially. Everypony who ever knew you or even knew who you were is long gone.”

“So this…this is the future?”

“A future, yes. One of many possible futures, but it serves to illustrate my point, doesn’t it?”

“Twilight…why are you looking at me like that?”

“Isn’t it obvious, Rainbow Dash? It’s because I hate you.”

She began to walk. Her motions were elegant but labored. It was apparent she had not walked on her hooves in many decades, or was wracked by some affliction that left no outer marks. “Regardless of what I come to be, the result is always the same, isn’t it? You already saw Flock’s vision. How he outlived the one friend he ever had. How he has no one left because he chose immortality over friendship. Consider this the inverse of the situation.”

“You’re. Not. REAL.”

“But the concept of me is!” Twilight leaned forward suddenly, a smile crossing her face. She laughed Twilight’s laugh, although it was a ragged and dusty sound. “You can’t deny that. Believe me, I tried. For so many years. As an alicorn, I will live forever. You know that. You’ve always known, even if you didn’t know that you knew. No matter how many years, centuries, millennia, I keep going- -and you do not.”

Rainbow Dash gasped. Her mind was clutching fruitlessly for ways to defend against the argument. It was an illusion- -but what it represented was an undeniable truth. Flock and Caballeron had been haunted by the failures of their pasts, while Daring Do and Rainbow Dash were haunted by the future. In Rainbow Dash’s case, though, that future was an inviolable fact. Twilight was immortal- -and all of her friends were not.

“They called you the Element of Loyalty,” said Twilight, softly. “I trusted you. Trusted that you would always be there, to be strong when I couldn’t.”

“And was! I mean I am!”

Twilight slowly pointed to the grave. “Then why did you betray me?”

Rainbow Dash’s jaw quivered, and Twilight seemed to drift toward her.

“You were supposed to be my friend. I trusted you. I loved you. And then you LEFT ME. All alone. You all left me, but you were the worst. Because you didn’t just betray me.” She pointed to the crumbling statues, now so old that the ponies they were meant to represent could barely be recognized. “You betrayed them too.”

“No. No, I wouldn’t! I can’t!”

“It was a flight accident. A stunt that went wrong. You were the first. You didn’t just leave me all alone, leave me crying every time I thought about you. You left all them too.” She shook her head. “But at least they got to go too. They don’t care now, do they? But I do. Just looking at you makes me sick. Do you know how many times I cried?”

“Twilight…there’s nothing I can do.”

“Does that change the outcome? I don’t think it does. I’m still alone. You pretended to be my friend, and then left me alone. All alone.”

“I wasn’t pretending! Twilight, I AM your friend!”

“No.” Twilight’s voice suddenly gained a slight echo of somepony else’s. Somepony Rainbow Dash could almost recognize. “You’re no better than Commander Hurricane. In fact you’re just like her. I know the legend. The real one, not the one Pegasi tell each other to make them feel better. Gigantes gave her the Spear because he loved her. It was a gift meant for a friend without compare. Then when he was sick, and when he was in desperate need of her help- -she ran him through with it.” Her face contorted. “I wish you had done that to me. It would be less cruel. Because then I wouldn’t have to spend an eternity thinking about it.”

Rainbow Dash took another step back. She realized that she was shaking. “She didn’t- -I didn’t- -”

“She did. As for you? Not yet. But you will. Try as you might. You will ALWAYS betray me.”

Rainbow Dash closed her eyes, but she could still feel the illusion around her- -but it was not the illusion that she feared. She suddenly understood that. Flock, Caballeron, Daring Do- -they might well have figured out exactly what she knew, that none of this was real- -and yet outside the illusion, all of it was.

She pressed her hooves to her eyes and took them away. They felt hot and pained, and she saw the infection spreading. Her blue fur was graying, and her body was growing weak and thin as her life drained away. The dial in her chest clicked faster and faster, trying to compensate, but there was nothing to compensate for. Soon it would be connected to something that it would not be able to keep alive, no matter how hard it tried.

Twilight glared at her. “I trusted you, Rainbow Dash. And you let me down. You let us all down…”

“No,” moaned Rainbow Dash. She shook her head. In her mind, she knew that it was all an illusion- -but she could not stop herself. She was staring to see this version of Twilight as her friend, and she was becoming unable to distinguish between what the red mist wanted her to see and the real Twilight. And so she gave in. She did not have the strength to resist it anymore, and in her mind the Twilight before her became the real Twilight. Her friend.

HER FRIEND.

Rainbow Dash opened her eyes and stared into Twilight’s. “You know what, Twilight? Buck you.”

Twilight almost seemed to jump back in surprise. Her eyes were wide with a pure lack of understanding. This was not how it was supposed to go.

“You can’t- -you can’t say that to me!”

“Sure I can,” said Rainbow Dash, standing up and brushing herself off. “Because you’re being a MASSIVE steed right now. Sorry. I know. That’s mean, but it’s the Applejack truth. I mean, I show up, I say hi, and what do you do? Trade cool stories, catch up, tell me why you’ve got three horns and no wings? No. You start yelling at me. That’s not cool.”

“And it’s not the point! I’m a representation of the future! One where you gave up on me!”

“More like a representation where the future’s all weird and you’re a jerk. Come on. This isn’t how friends treat each other. You know that.”

“We’re not friends! Not anymore! You left me! You betrayed me! You weren’t loyal!”

“That’s not how it works.” Rainbow Dash stepped forward, and Twilight took a step back. “You mean I got old and died? Sure. Yeah. I guess that’ll happen eventually. I mean, I’m pretty awesome, but I probably can’t make it more than five, six hundred years tops.”

Twilight’s eyes narrowed. “You’re a Pegasus, you only live ninety maximum- -”

“Yeah, well, I’m also Rainbow Dash. Trust me on this. I’ll find a way. Watch. Four hundred years from now? I’ll be right there and still beating you in races. I mean, if your wings grow back. I’m going to assume they do.”

“The wings are a metaphor!”

“Sure they are.”

Twilight sputtered. “But even then, I’m still immortal! I’ll keep going- -”

Rainbow Dash shrugged. “Yeah. Sure. That’ll happen, I guess. And it’ll be real sad. But you clearly expected it. I guess we all did.” She gestured at the graves. “But what does that matter?”

“NOTHING matters more! You betrayed me!”

“Really? When? Apart from the, you know, getting dead part. When wasn’t I at your side? When did I ever turn my back on you, or any of my friends? Never. Because I’m Rainbow Dash. I’m not like Commander Hurricane. I mean, I’m epic and all, but I’m not about to do…what she did.”

“But you left me behind!”

Rainbow Dash took another step forward, and Twilight took two back- -falling into the open grave. Her face was suddenly level with Rainbow Dash’s.

“Twilight,” said Rainbow Dash, being absolutely serious. “I’m not going to get a chance to say this when you really are old and I’m just ten or twenty chapters in the old record books. I tried. I gave it my all, every bit I had in the tank. But things happen. I can’t do the impossible. Well, most of the time. But you’ll get over it.”

“But I can’t- -”

“Applejack did. So did Scoots. You will too. I mean, you’re a Princess.”

“But it hurts.”

“Well, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I can’t be there with you forever. I just can’t. I’ll do what I can, and then I’ll do twenty percent more. And when I can’t? Things will be okay.” She reached out and hugged Twilight. Somewhere in the distance, a voice so far away it was almost imperceptible screamed in agony.

“I DON’T UNDERSTAND!!”

Something above Rainbow Dash cracked, and she looked up. Part of Twilight’s face seemed to have fallen away, like a highly realistic ceramic mask. Except that this was a bizarre and impossible inversion: the mask was beneath the face. The mask of Scarlet Mist.

And as she saw it, Rainbow Dash felt the illusion break. The fog around her dissipated, and she fell to the ground.
 

Chapter 70: The Broken Spell

From her wheelchair, Daring Do felt the world shake slightly. As if something had quietly produced a profound and distant crack. She looked up, momentarily rising from her stupor and turned her head back toward the building that would never be her home- -but would be where she lived until she met her final end.

“What was that?” asked one of the orderlies, the female.

“Nothing,” said the other. “Nothing is wrong. Nothing happened. Everything is fine.”

Except that nothing was fine. Daring Do suddenly realized that. The thoughts came back to her, the ones she had learned to hide from so long ago. She would never again live another adventure. Repeated injuries had left her body ruined and broken. It was the inevitable course of her life: in time, she would lose the ability to fly. Then the ability to walk. Without her adventures, everything she lived for would be gone. Yet she would keep living, because that was all she know.

But a thought occurred to her. She recalled that Rainbow Dash had come to visit, although it felt so long ago now. Rainbow Dash, who she barely knew, yet who seemed to know her better than most ponies she could think of. The only reason she knew, Daring Do realized, was from the books.

The books. That was something she had not thought about for a long, long time. Her state would lead her to stop adventuring, and that would take away writing as well. No new adventures meant no knew stories, just days of sitting on the porch staring at the trees, trying not to think. Or at least that was what the voice in her head told her .The voice that wore a red mask.

Except the voice was lying. The failure of her body had taken away her adventures, but it had not taken away everything worthwhile.

Daring Do moved. She slowly reached down and carefully drew out a piece of paper from beside her. Then, with equal care, she removed a pencil. She felt it in her mouth, twisting it, recalling the taste of so many like it, and of the quills she would use in later drafts- -first red, then black, then red again, as long as necessary.

There were more stories to tell. There were always more stories. She had some, still, but even when those ran out, there were those of others, those that she could form in her mind into adventures all their own. Her body had failed her. But her mind had not.

She put the tip of the pencil to the paper. The orderlies behind her screamed in anguish, and Daring Do felt the world around her collapse into fog. She began to fall through it, and as she looked up, she saw a pair of blue eyes and a strange, alien face staring back at her. A face linked to a body that bore a metal hand. The face smiled, satisfied that Daring Do would live to meet her in person.

Caballeron felt space ripple around him, as if the house around him were preparing to collapse. He wondered for a moment why it never did. He found himself wishing it had.

Then it clicked. Somewhere out there, Daring Do was beating him. She was doing something he was unable to, winning the competition they had so dear for so many years. She was upstaging him yet again, but it should have been impossible. He was Caballeron.

“Don’t you look away from me!” screamed his father. Spittle landed on the younger Caballeron’s face, and a hoof was raised to strike him again. This time, though, Caballeron did not allow it. He raised his hoof and blocked it. He was just a boy, and he was weak; the blow battered his foreleg severely, and he was sure that something in his wrist had popped out of place. It did not matter, though. The gesture had been enough. His father stared back with surprise and confusion.

“How dare you?” he whispered.

“How dare I?” demanded Caballeron, standing high and pushing his father’s hoof away. “Do you know who I am?”

“I know exactly who you are. You’re nopony at all. Just a failure who couldn’t even rebuild our legacy, who doesn’t deserve a name- -”

“Oh really. A legacy. Some grand, important thing, perhaps? With significant monetary value?”

Rage crossed the elder Caballeron’s face, and the younger was afraid he would be hit again. Except that his father simply seethed rather than coming to blows. “Money? MONEY? Is that all that matters to you?”

“Why wouldn’t it? It was all that mattered to you.”

The elder Caballeron gasped. “You don’t have the right- -”

“Why not? Because you don’t wish to hear it? Or maybe you don’t remember? Or maybe, just maybe, you don’t want to?”

“Shut your mouth, son, I don’t want to hear- -”

“SON!” cried Caballeron, roaring with sardonic laughter. “Oh how very rich! Calling me that now, when you never could bring yourself to in life?” Caballeron stepped forward, and his father did not retreat. “You stand there, telling me it’s my fault for failing to rebuild. But why do I have to rebuild?”

“You waste money constantly on your petty adventures and on your rivalry with that PEGSUS- -”

“That Pegasus is a valued nemesis, and all my money I made myself. Through hard work. Not honest work, obviously, but hard work nonetheless!” He chuckled. “Something you wouldn’t know anything about, though, would you?”

“I know more about money than you EVER- -”

“Yes. How to spend it. It was always about ME rebuilding. But why? Why do I have to rebuild? Why didn’t I inherit a thriving manor, an ancient fortune, a house staffed with competent servants? You and your father. You squandered it. You spent everything we had, and sold what was left to keep spending!”

“It isn’t the money that matters!” cried the elder Caballeron. “It’s the name! The honor- -”

“Of being a laughingstock? Of everypony whispering behind our backs about the lavish parties, the yachts, the jewelry you couldn’t afford? If our honor is tied to our land, it was not I that stole it away.”

“You’re a criminal!”

“Yes,” said Caballeron, standing tall. “I am, and I pride myself in what I have accomplished. My reputation, the fear I inspire, the connections I’ve made. By myself. Without YOU.”

“But the name! You’ve failed the very NAME of our lineage!”

“I did not fail the Caballeron name. It would seem that it has failed me.” Caballeron smiled.

“You don’t understand. You’ll never understand. You’ll never be worthy of it.”

“Worthy?” Caballeron laughed again. This time with some level of sincerity. “What do I care about being ‘worthy’? You’re not around to take the name back. Not that you could. So it belongs to me.”

Caballeron’s father’s eyes widened. “You can’t- -”

“I can. The name belongs to me. I’ve laid claim to it. I am the ONLY Caballeron.” He smiled wryly. “I’ve stolen it, if you like.”

He turned to the ghosts of his ancestors and laughed in their faces. “Depart. Go to whatever pit you crawled out of. I don’t need you.” He pointed at the building around him. “And I don’t need this! Why have I bothered keeping hold of something so worthless? I have my degrees. I have my business. I might as well sell it. Maybe to a mining company who will burn away everything and grind the land away until there is nothing but a hole where your precious birthright used to stand.”

Caballeron’s father looked heartbroken. Caballeron took joy in that. “Please, son…”

“Father. Goodbye. I don’t intend to fixate on wasting time building what you brought down. You should vanish with your legacy.” Caballeron tuned away. A door had opened on the wall. He approached it, not as a colt but as he was in life- -as a stallion. A stallion with the name Caballeron. He the only pony who bore that name- -and perhaps the last, or perhaps not; it did not matter either way.

“Son, please. Please don’t leave me.”

“I wish I could say I loved you, father,” said Caballeron. “Maybe I did at one time.”

“Forgive me…”

“There’s nothing left to forgive.”

Caballeron stepped through the door. His father stared for a moment longer before collapsing into mist alongside the endless line of Caballerons who had come before him. They all turned to mist at once, and Caballeron was left all alone and free.

Flock was shivering and cold. The streets rolled out in all directions. And endless maze built of stone beneath a sky so filled with smoke and clouds that the sun never shown. He had always loved this city, and hated it at the same time. Loved it because it reminded of home, and hated it because it was not- -and now because of the horrible memories it brought back.

Silversmith stood in front of him, watching. Staring. She did not speak because she did not need to. Her presence was enough, and her endlessly accusing glare. He was a wizard. He had existed alone for so very long, and endless stream of work in the name of the Eternal King- -broken only by one brief period of light. The period when there had been one other, one friend. A friend who had passed on while Flock continued, propelled endlessly forward through time in the bodies of countless generations of birds. That pony was Silversmith.

Then he felt it. He did not have the same context as the living ponies did; his view of the world was completely different. Perhaps they heard it as a sound, or saw a flash of light, or something of the sort. Flock did not. He simply perceived that the spell around him had changed. It was weakening, in a sense, but not quite. In some respects, it grew stronger as the attention was directed solely at him.

Silversmith turned her head and looked out. “The others,” she said. “They’re breaking the spell. Would you look at that.”

“That’s not possible.”

“No. It isn’t. At least it shouldn’t be. But you were never one to press for the impossible, were you, Corvius? Oh no. Everything operates just as it’s meant to.”

“What do you even mean?”

“I mean, you can’t do what they did. You’re too sick, too broken. I can see it. Right now. You’re trying to figure out how they did it, but you can’t. You just can’t figure it out, how two Pegasi and an earth-pony managed to do what a ‘great and powerful’ wizard couldn’t.”

“What makes you think I don’t know?”

“Because that’s the way it works. That’s why you got me, wasn’t it? Because you forgot how to think like a pony. You made yourself immortal, but you’re still fading. Soon there won’t be anything left.”

“And does that matter?”

Silversmith paused, as if confused by the question.

Flock looked up at her. There were tears in his eyes. “Do you think I’m afraid of you? That I don’t know how to break this spell? That I couldn’t?”

“You can’t. You don’t understand how.”

“I do. I don’t know how they did it but I know how I would do it.”

“Then why are you crying?”

“Because I don’t want to. Because of what it will cost me. Please don’t make me, Silversmith. Just leave me. I beg you. You’re right. You were a pony. And I let you stay a pony. So go away. Let me be a hideous, deformed thing and keep going.”

Silversmith sighed. “You know I can’t do that.”

Flock stood. “So be it,” he said. “I suppose it had to be this way.”

“What way? Corvius, what are you doing.”

“Simple,” he said. “I’m going to tell you the truth.”

“The…what?”

“The curse that infected your legs? It was one of mine. I designed it. True, I did not deploy it, but somepony else did. I could have saved them, too. It would have been difficult but not impossible. And to remove the curse as well, with a little more effort. But I chose not to. Because I wanted to use you as an experimental platform.”

Silversmith’s eyes widened and her face contorted with anger. “You son of a- -”

“Language. You SHOULD ask why. It’s not idol curiosity. You were right. I needed a living pony. I can’t do many things. Read from the Book of the Black Tower, for example. It won’t let me. I needed a slave.”

“I was your friend- -”

“A friend? A friend. Surely you can’t be serious.”

Heartbreak seemed to cross Silversmith’s eyes. Flock understood what it felt like. “But…I…”

“Was useful. That is all. And you aged and died. I could have stopped it. But I didn’t. Because I was so very disappointed in you.”

“But everything I did- -”

“Your work was excellent. But you disgust me. That’s why you died. You know that, don’t you?”

“I don’t- -”

Flock closed her eyes. He could feel his mind rewriting his most precious memories. “Because you are genetically inferior.”

“Flock…”

Flock opened his eyes. The world around him was already fading. Yet there was more work to do.

“I reject you,” he said. “I reject the memory of you, of any happiness you think you might have brought me. It was all a waste of time. The very idea of friendship is folly. You were a tool in my plans. Nothing more.” He raised a shaking hoof. It steadied as he brought it up, and the process was already complete. He believed what he was saying. “Now LEAVE.”

“No.”

Silversmith’s face suddenly contorted. Her eyes pulled open wide but slid closed at the same time, forming the slits of a mask. Her mouth drew back into a horrible, impossible smile.

“Of course,” she said, softly. She no longer bothered to speak in Silversmith’s voice. “I remember you now. It has truly been a long time, Gxurab. I cannot claim I am happy to meet you again, but I at last recognize you now.”

The world around Flock turned to mist and dissipated, and he wondered if what he had given up was worth the cost of survival.

The fog lifted, and once again the room became dark and cold, lit only by a now almost fully drained fire crystal. Daring Do was in a corner, breathing hard, while Caballeron was lying on his side near the crystal. Rainbow Dash was stuck upside down on her wings. All of them looked pale, but they were alive.

Flock blinked, standing through the pain, and saw that Scarlet Mist was already mincing toward him.

“I suppose this body has unusually low magical potential,” she mused. Her voice would have been profoundly beautiful had it not been contaminated so badly with sadistic hatred. “Yet it does seem to be sustaining me. For now.”

She turned her head sharply, and her boots stopped clicking across the stone ground. She reached up slowly and touched her mask, her hoof immediately moving to where a large hole had been burned into it.

“I’ve been damaged,” she said. It was more of a statement, but that carried profound and dreadful realization. Suddenly her face turned toward Flock. The thin, horizontal slits of her eyes glared at Flock. “Why am I damaged?”

“Scarlet, there’s been a development- -”

“You filthy insect!” she screamed, suddenly lurching forward. She pressed a hoof against his shoulder, shoving him back. Flock screamed and was forced back by a surge of red magic as she morphed his body. What he became made Rainbow Dash gasp in disgust: he was still a pony, but he was a flattened, wrenched thing that looked more like an especially vicious insect than anything else.

“What is this? What have you done to yourself? No, I do not care- -what is the status of the Empire? I remember fire, glorious war- -and my body being taken out from under me.”

“Scarlet- -” Flock coughed and spat; his voice was badly distorted by a mouthful of needle-like teeth.

“STATUS.”

Flock scuttled backward and sighed. His body shifted again, once again resuming the form of a black unicorn. “It still stands.”

“And Sombra?”

Flock’s expression fell. He shook his head.

“ANSWER ME you deformed- -”

“He’s gone,” said Daring Do.

“Yeah,” said Rainbow Dash, still stuck on her wings. “I kind of might have, you know, murdered him. A little.”

Scarlet Mist stared at Rainbow Dash- -yet did not seem especially angry. “Really?” She turned back to Flock. “Then who sits upon the throne?”

“Penumbra Heartbreak.”

“Wait,” said Rainbow Dash. “That means…” Daring Do put her hoof on Rainbow Dash’s shoulder and shook her head. Rainbow Dash nodded and was silent.

“So the prophecy was not as pointless as I anticipated.” Scarlet Mist shrugged. “And the others? What of the others?”

Flock’s expression once again fell. “Gone. For the most part, all of them are gone.”

“Gone?” Scarlet Mist moved forward suddenly, producing an almost palpable wave of anger as she did so. Yet her voice remained nearly calm. “What do you mean ‘gone’?”

“The Nameless One persists, of course. And if Crozea survived the battle, I have not been able to locate her. And according to my calculations, we have recently intersected Thirteen’s original timeline. She has been born relatively recently. And of course the changeling queen…”

“That’s six. There were thirteen of us. Philo? Buttonhooks? That insufferable Blue Knight?” She paused and looked around. “Luciferian,” she said, suddenly. “Where is Twilight Luciferian?”

“Gone. They’re all gone. Although…” Flock smiled slightly, as if he were relishing the pain of someone the rather did not like. “A white stallion of House Twilight DOES currently sit on the throne. Just like the prophecy stated.”

“The war,” said Scarlet Mist. “The war. I remember a war.” She turned sharply toward Flock, and he took a step back. She began to advance toward him. “And you did not fight, did you? Of all of them, of all of us- -YOU. The weakest one. You did not even fight, did you? No. You must have retreated. Back to that private world of yours. To ride out the war while the rest of us DIED.” She pointed at the hole in her mask. A hole that must have gone far deeper than the mask alone when it had been first made.

“Did you expect me to fight?” spat Flock. “I’m no soldier! I’m a mathematician, an engineer! What? Should I have stood against the combined forces of Celestia and Nightmare Moon all on my own? If Luciferian couldn’t win- -”

“YOU COULD HAVE TRIED!” screamed Scarlet Mist. “If it hadn’t been for you, and that COWARD Holder, we would not have lost! The King would still sit upon the throne instead of that little pink abomination!”

She roared and turned away from him. “That was our home. Or yours at least. And you let it slip through your filthy little hooves.”

“I had to persist. I had to prepare for his return.”

“Return?” Scarlet Mist laughed, and it was a horrible sound. “Unlikely.”

“The spell. I completed it. I finished the plans, the processes- -”

“And quantified the pony soul. Congratulations. I see what good it did you.”

“Sombra lives.”

“And so does the princess,” replied Scarlet Mist, darkly but not out of hatred. “And the world has moved on. And now it is far too late.” She slowly tilted her head to stare at Flock. Somehow this was more horrible than her previous erratic movements. “My body. It could not have survived this long. There is nothing left for me to search for.”

“That doesn’t matter.”

“It doesn’t?” she said, coldly. “Then why have you returned me to such a body?”

“Because I need you.”

“But I do not need you. Nor do I require anything. I with only to go back to sleep. There is nothing for me here.”

“But you won’t.”

Scarlet Mist eyed him suspiciously. “And what makes you suppose such a thing?”

“That you can’t. Not when you have a body. When you’re a mask it’s one thing, isn’t it?” Flock smiled and approached her. It was the same smile as before. “But not when you have a body. The rush of life. Your greed. Your hunger. Your power.” He looked up at her. “I know you, Scarlet. And I know you cannot resist those things. You cannot give up on life once you have it. You had one chance.”

“Yes,” she said, oddly calm. Then, much less calmly: “and you took that from me.”

Her horn ignited with red light, and Daring Do reached for her whip. She did not need to draw it, though, because Flock seemed to have expected this.

“It’s the Hand of Doom.”

Scarlet Mist’s horn remained charged, but she did not use it. “That pointless thing you were so very much obsessed with?”

“Yes! It’s real! It’s actually real!”

“I feel like I should be concerned, then.” The light of her horn faded. “I was never your friend, Gxurab, but I at least had the capacity to understand your work. If you resurrected me, I can only imagine that this is indeed dire.”

“It is. The Questlords of Inverness stole it from me.”

“Because you are a carless fool no doubt, and weak without a king standing behind you with funds and armies. But the Questlords are extinct. Even in our time, even when I was whole they had been driven to extinction.”

“By the false-gods.”

“By Celestia. I have no quarrel with gods or want of politics. You know that, Gxurab.”

“Never mind,” said Daring Do, stepping forward. Scarlet Mist turned to her, and Daring Do shivered. Something about the mask was terrifying, although she was not sure what. Perhaps because the pony behind it was not the pony who was looking at her.

“You,” said Scarlet Mist. “Pegasus. What do you want? More of, why should I not bisect you now?”

“Could you?”

“Yes. Easily.”

“But you used that mist instead.”

“Because I enjoy your pain. What right do you have to speak to me?”

“I helped free you.”

“How curious that you think I am free. But yes. You did. I recall you. And for that, I hate you desperately.”

“But if what Gxurab has told me about you is true, you hate everypony.”

“Yes. Because hate is all I know. Because hate is all I NEED to know.”

“Then why are you looking for a body?”

Scarlet Mist glared for a moment. “What do you want, pony?”

“The Hand. If it finishes what it’s doing, it’s the end of Equestria.”

“It is always the end of Equestria somewhere. Why should I care? My body no longer exists. No other body can substitute. I have to have it, to make me whole again. If that will never happen, why should I serve you?”

“Because you get to punch Questlords?” suggested Rainbow Dash.

“Because you owe it to her,” said Caballeron, suddenly breaking his silence.

Scarlet Mist turned toward him, raising her horn. It glowed red, and for just a fraction of a second Daring Do was sure she saw the tiniest flash of green within the glow. Scarlet Mist did not attack.

“I owe nothing,” said Scarlet Mist.

“That is a lie,” growled Caballeron. “That body. She made a sacrifice to bring you here. To help us.”

“Which you cannot comprehend, can you? I have witnessed your mind. Your greed matches mine. It is untainted and pure. That a pony could sacrifice is beyond you.”

“That does not change the fact that SHE understood!” cried Caballeron. “If it had not been for her, you would still be there, lying in that box! And she will….she’ll…”

“She will do nothing. But I know what you wish to say. Yes. It is true. I will drain her of all magic and life-force, burning her away to ash. Then as Gxurab suggested, I will attach myself to a new host and do the same. To her, and to the next. Across eternity until I am destroyed or find a pony that can bear to stay with me. And the only pony that can is ME.”

“She knew that, and she accepted it. So that…” he paused. His face was drawn, and he could not look near Daring Do. “So that others could survive.”

Daring Do stared at him. She had not seen him behave like this in a long, long time.

Scarlet Mist also stared. Then turned back to Flock. “So be it.”

“You will help us?” said Flock, hopefully.

“Not out of selflessness, which is a pointless vanity. This body will not last long. It is already fading. I require a new one. A Questlord knight should be more than adequate.”

“There is a mare,” suggested Caballeron, much to Daring Do’s horror. “Carillon Heartstrings.”

“I do not care what her name is. If she is adequate, her only name will be Scarlet Mist.”

“I assure you. She is.”

“We shall see. Or I shall. The rest of you do not seem to realize who this is.” She pointed a red-clad hoof at Flock. “He intends to betray you all. I have no doubt of that. To him, you are all expendable. Yes, you may succeed. And he and I will both survive. The rest of you will not.”

And with that, she left them to stand in knowing silence.

Chapter 71: Word of the Silver Pony

The interface was complex to the point of near incomprehensibility. Carillon knew this, because she had designed it. It was meant for her, and those few of her children who had developed unicorn-like intelligence during the forced education process. She did not expect a more primitive being like Solum Finis to be able to comprehend it, at least not without substantial explanation, something she did not relish but was sure would be inherently required for him to understand the situation.

She sighed. “I suppose I have to start with the theory.”

“No need.” Solum Finis’s one eye scanned across the entire surface. “I comprehend.”

Carillon sputtered. “But how?”

“Technological decadence,” said Dulcimer from behind her. Almost sarcastically.

“Indeed,” said Solum Finis. “In more ways than one.”

“Your thoughts?”

“Few. Mainly, that you are all childish idiots.”

Carillon was far more insulted than Dulcimer. “I should remove your- -”

“Your vessel.” Solum Finis pointed toward the window. Absence- -although Carillon refused to think of her by that moronic name- -was lying on the table, occasionally twitching from weak convulsions. She had at least stopped screaming, and apparently regained control over the magical surges that her body was producing. The technicians had even succeeded in performing the linking surgery. They now had full access to her vital signs, and even Carillon knew that the results were not good.

“What about it?”

“It is failing.”

“She will survive. I should know. I designed her.”

“She is synthetic,” stated Solum Finis, although he already knew that. “But her form is defective. You can see these results. The infection is overwhelming her. Spreading at an uncontrolled rate.”

“She will stabilize.”

“No. Not at this rate.” Solum Finis faced Dulcimer. “Why did you elect to use a wing-pony for this? She is not adequate. Her body cannot withstand the power.”

“As opposed to?”

“You ought to have used a unicorn.”

“It’s not possible,” hissed Carillon defensively. “Unicorn biology is to complex. Creating an adequate host synthetically would be impossible.”

“The trihorns managed to do it.”

“But we’re not them,” said Dulcimer, approaching the window. “We have what we have. You understand our machine, and what it needs. I need to know how to stop the progression before we lose containment completely.”

“We have it under control,” replied Carillon.

“No, my child, you don’t.”

Solum Finis smiled. “The system is not hopeless. It is admirable for one as primitive as you. Perhaps the trihorns would be proud, if only of their own skill. Had then not eradicated themselves.”

“Can it be stabilized?”

Solum Finis nodded. “Yes. It can.”

“How?”

“By activating the Necroforge.”

Both Carillon and Dulcimer stared at him in shock. Even the technicians stopped what they were doing and stared in awe, or at least more awe than they were already staring.

“Out of the question!” cried Carillon. “The linkages are not fully established, the core isn’t formed- -the entire structure would tear itself apart!”

“The Necroforge is a reality engine,” explained Solum Finis, speaking as though he were speaking to a foal. “Activating it creates a primary field.”

“I know that, but such a field would only be stable for a few seconds, not enough time to program the necessary algorithms into the interface- -”

“You talk a lot. Stop. Right now, your core is collapsing. Her effort is valiant, I guess. But futile. Activating the Necroforge and redirecting its force inward will stabilize her.”

“But it’s incomplete!” protested Carillon. She looked at Dulcimer, her orange eye gleaming alongside the newer red one. “If her body fails to compensate, it will sustain neither the draw nor the feedback. It will be torn apart. And us along with it.”

“But what he’s saying is theoretically possible.”

“Grandmaster! You can’t seriously be considering this!”

“I built this device, Carillon. I could not have completed it without your help, Carillon, but I know it better than anypony.”

“And I know my synthetics better than anypony. And I know that even she won’t be able to withstand what you’re asking of her. My work is excellent. But nopony’s work is THAT good.”

“I know what I am talking about,” said Solum Finis. “I saw how the last vessel was created. The only solution is to dump whatever magic you can into her body. Anything you can give. It will counterbalance her biology with that of the Hand.” He smiled. Had he been a pony, Dulcimer might have known that it was not a face that could ever be trusted. But Solum Finis, despite his appearance, was no pony, and Dulcimer could not read him.

“Do we have any other options?”

“Yes. Wait. If you do that, you will fail. I guarantee it.”

“And I guarantee that you’ll fail if you do what he’s saying.” Carillon faced Dulcimer. Her orange eye was identical to his, as would be expected from two ponies who shared the same ancient bloodline. “You have to listen, Grandmaster. Please.”

“Don’t make this personal, Carillon. I don’t have a choice.”

“Yes you do.”

“No. Everything we’ve sacrificed, everything we’ve been forced to do. This has to work. It just has to.” He shook his head. “If I choose his path, will you reject it?”

“I will protest it,” said Carillon. “But if you give an order, I will never deny you. I will perform it with all my heart. I may lack your chivalry, but I still honor the Code.”

Dulcimer smiled, and then hugged her. Carillon gasped and blushed slightly, as this was either an extreme breach of protocol or a deeply profound gesture.

“Thank you,” he said. Then he released her. “As quickly as you can. Ready the machine for Solum Finis’s plan. We have to help Absence. Not just for her own sake but ours as well. The risk is great but the reward unimaginable.”

“Yes, Grandmaster,” replied Carillon, saluting him.

Solum Finis just smiled, but as Dulcimer passed him, the pony grasped the silver being’s front leg. He turned his head upward and whispered. “If this fails, I will hold you responsible. And there will be retribution. Given time, I’m sure I can find a way to cut through silver.”

“I’m sure,” said Solum Finis, almost laughing. “But you can trust me. This process has come to me in endless dreams. It will not fail. You can be sure of that.”
 

Chapter 72: The Last Exmoor Pony

The icy wind was strong and endless, but Rainbow Dash hardly noticed. She stared out across the frozen landscape. The snow and ice had already started to cover the once proud buildings, and some had crumbled and collapsed- -but the keep still looked familiar. The great center of the endless floating city of Cloudstantinople, a city that had long since broken into many smaller fragments that now drifted through the world. Some of those fragments had already faded, dissipated by the wind and elements. Rainbow Dash supposed they would all dissipate eventually. But this city never would. The capital city built atop the twin peaks of Lyskymm.

She drew the Spear, but did not activate it. For a moment she looked up at the statue below her, the one of her, cast in bronze, holding the very same spear. Perhaps that was how ponies would remember her when centuries and millennia had passed. Or perhaps they would only remember her failures.

Then she turned back. Away from the statues, and away from the city she had failed to save- -and toward a pony.

She stared at him for a long moment, watching. He stared back. The pony was shorter than most, and far more squat- -but not as short or as muscular as the rest of his kind. He bore no wings and no horn, and the long fluffy fur that covered his body had been trimmed back. What was left of it hung shaggily over an absurdly heavy suit of Pegasus battle armor, a suit that he seemed to not even remotely find a burden.

Their eyes met. His eyes were deep violet.

“So,” said Rainbow Dash, but not in her own voice. The voice of sompeony similar- -too similar- -but not the same. “This is how it has to be, then?”

The other pony nodded. When he spoke, his voice was oddly high yet somehow still carried immense and ancient authority. “Yes. There is no alternative. Draw your spear, Hurricane. And if you can, strike me down.”

“So be it.”

Rainbow Dash- -Commander Hurricane- -drew the weapon that in a matter of minutes would earn its eternal name. She twisted it, activating the intricately wrought internal mechanism and the complex machine-spells contained within. The blade of the Spear ignited with white light, and as Hurricane brought it into attack position, it grew brighter and seemed to flow with ethereal rainbows.

The other pony took a breath, and he drew his weapon. A simple sword, forged by earth-ponies, the farmer-race. No ornamentation, no spells, no lineage or history. Just a piece of cold steel.

And Hurricane understood that this would be the end, and why- -even if Rainbow Dash did not.

With a cry, she lunged forward, drawing back the Spear as the pony- -the last child of Exmoor- -raised his sword, a look of grim resolve on his face- -and something else. Something else that Rainbow Dash did not understand, but that made tears begin to well in Hurricane’s eyes as she brought the Spear of Extinction down on him.

Rainbow Dash gasped and grabbed the hoof the hoof on her shoulder. She looked up into a different pair of violet eyes.

“Rainbow Dash,” said Daring Do. “Get your stuff. It’s time.”

Caballeron stood at the entrance to the ancient structure, shivering in the cold. He was playing with his watch, or what most ponies took to look like a watch. The tiny gem inside was warm, but of course not warm enough to force away the icy chill of Hyperborea. He cursed under his breath, but he had been through worse. Jungles were his preference, but ice was nothing new.

The shadows moved beside him, and the room seemed to grow even colder. Scarlet Mist appeared, as if out of the blackness itself. She regarded Caballeron for a moment though the slit-like apertures of her mask, and then at his “watch”.

“Do you intend to so something with that phoenix star, or is it simply sentimental?”

“If I use it, it will be where and when I chose to,” snapped Caballeron. “Or perhaps I should use it on you?”

“It is unwise to threaten me.”

“Is it even a threat? Would it even hurt you?”

“No. It might damage this body, but I would be quite safe. Few things in this world can damage me, and none can destroy me. Not until I am whole again.”

“And when you are?”

Scarlet Mist paused. “Then this mask will fall away, empty. As it should be.”

There was a flash of light beside her. The other wizard appeared. Daring Do was at his side. Caballeron felt a peculiar emotion well inside him. Most of it, he supposed, was disgust. The red wizard horrified him, but the black one was somehow worse. He recognized the deviousness in its disgusting mutated eyes, how it was constantly planning calculating. The red wizard would not betray them, at least not for any particular reason. Perhaps out of anger, or for the sake of amusement. But the black wizard would betray them out of habit. There was no doubt in Caballeron’s mind.

Or, perhaps, it angered him because Daring Do had chosen to side with such a filthy thing.

“I am growing impatient,” said Scarlet Mist. “Remember, unless you intend to give me a new body, you have limited time. And from my understanding, you have no unicorns.”

“Could you inhabit a different one?” asked Flock.

“Yes. But I would be unable to use powerful magic. Even this body is barely competent.”

Caballeron felt himself growing angry, and sad. He wished he had an antacid. This whole ordeal was giving him an ulcer.

“They’re almost ready on the other side,” explained Daring Do.

“Which leaves only one simple fact,” said Caballeron, his exasperation growing. “Where exactly is it that we are going? Or do you not know?”

“I have no idea,” said Daring Do. “But I know somepony that does.”

The dead facility had immediately grown uninhabitable and nearly hostile. The ancient cell where the Hand of Doom had once been still managed to generate some heat as the ancient spells and structures located there clung to life for a little longer, burning what little power they had. That facility was dying, but ran out of habit only.

The Exmoori machinery, though, was far more blunt in its reaction. It no longer had a purpose, and had stopped post haste. It saw no reason to persist, and seemed to rapidly accept its fate. Perhaps the whole of it would crumble soon, entombing the ancient structure below it in rusting fragments of broken and pointless machinery. Perhaps when Wun finally did reach this place, she would find nothing but wreckage.

Daring Do cared little. Many such tombs and temples had crumbled in her wake. It was an unfortunate truth. What mattered was that the artifacts within could be preserved- -or, in this case, that they could be destroyed.

Past where the massive door had once stood, the room grew much, much colder. It was a temperature so low that no pony would be able to survive it for very long, but it came with a sterile lack of snow or ice. Simply dry, deathly cold.

Somewhere above, a forest was dying. Hordes of ancient, infected zebras would be left without their ancient home. Daring Do had been told that they would head underground, into the endless dark catacombs of the lost city that surrounded and had once supported this whole facility after its original creators had departed. That facility would grow cold, too, but somehow Daring Do expected that there were things within it that would maintain warmth. Things that were best left to the protection of the infected zebras, never to be seen by pony eyes again.

Neither Flock nor Scarlet Mist noticed the cold. Flock, because he was wearing the dial; Scarlet Mist, because she was a mask, and masks felt neither pain nor discomfort.

Daring Do, however, shivered. Caballeron sighed and extended his wrist. He tapped what appeared to be a watch, and the area around them filled with warmth. Daring Do saw that it was a phoenix star, and she recognized it well.

“You still have that thing?” she said, almost smirking.

“It has gotten me out of a number of unfortunate situations,” shrugged Caballeron, annoyed by the question. “So I have not bothered to throw it away yet.”

“I remember when I gave that to you.”

Despite the cold, Caballeron blushed. He coughed. “So that is where it came from. I had forgotten.”

Daring Do smiled. She had always wondered if he had kept it, but understood why he was embarrassed. She remembered what was inscribed on the bottom. It was a fragment of a life that might have been.

They stopped. They were at the entrance, where the remains of Fuzzypoof had asked her riddle. The remains of the machines that had bound Caballeron still sat there, charred and smoking from where they had been torn apart by Carillon’s magic. Cabaleron shuddered slightly, realizing what had almost become of him. What always almost became of him.

Yet, sitting in the center of the circle, untouched and undamaged, was exactly what Daring Do had come to find. A skeleton lay there, linked to robotic innards and machinery that suddenly seemed to be oxidizing and corroding at a rapid rate.

Daring Do approached the inactive skeleton. It was a pitiful sight. Somehow, she looked so small.

“Interface,” she said. Nothing happened. So she repeated herself, more vigorously. “INTERFACE.”

Light flickered around the skeleton. It did not for a full body, but a shadow of one. The robotics twitched, but perhaps not voluntarily. The revenant did not have the strength to stand.

One holographic eye looked up at Daring Do. There was so much sadness in that eye, far too much for a machine. Daring Do had a suspicion that she had been lied to.

“Why?” said the skeleton. Her voice was quiet and distorted. It sounded as pained as she looked. “Why not just leave me? Let me enter the forever-sleep. My purpose has ended. I have failed. As I always knew I would…”

“I’m surprised,” said Daring Do, kneeling beside the remains. “To the Exmoor ponies, death is the ultimate dishonor.”

Fuzzypoof sighed. “You understand nothing. Fuzzypoof had no honor to relinquish. What a beautiful life she might have lived, had she not obsessed with this thing. This thing…built too late for a pointless purpose.”

“All the power in the world, and it wouldn’t have brought them back.”

The hologram looked away. “No. It wouldn’t have.”

“I intend to destroy it. You know that.”

“It will destroy itself. Look now. Even I am failing. The last spark of magic burns in this body. It will not be long now. Perhaps I will see my son again. I miss him…”

“You will.” Daring Do put her hoof on the skeleton’s shoulder. It was frozen bone and metal. It had not known life for centuries, yet memories of what life was still echoed through it. It was a horrible thing to see. “But I don’t mean this place. I mean the Hand itself.”

“Destroying it is not possible. If it were, I would have done so long ago.”

“We think we know a way. But we need to know where it is. Can you find it?”

What remained of Fuzzypoof stared at the dark ceiling for a long moment. “I can. I suppose it will be fitting. The wizard. Born-of-White-Steel. Bring him here.”

Daring Do motioned for Flock to come closer, and he did so, although hesitantly.

The holographic eye stared up at him. “I pity you,” she said.

“I’m not the one at the end of this world.”

“No,” agreed the remains. “You will never know the forever-sleep. Hence my pity.”

“Don’t be so sure.”

Fuzzypoof turned her attention toward Daring Do. “You were the one that understood.”

“Your riddle. I know. I’m pretty good at them.”

The hologram smiled. “Yet maybe I was generous. But the blood of Exmoor still flows. No matter how dilute. Maybe we will rise again someday.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You don’t need to.” She closed her eye. The dial on Flock’s chest suddenly whirred and twisted under its own accord as the hologram flickered. She searched, and found what she needed- -and transferred the coordinates to a piece of machinery that was all too familiar to her.

Then it was done.

Flock looked down at his dial, and at Daring Do. “It worked. I can translate this pattern. I know where it is.”

Daring Do smiled, and then looked down at the skeleton. The hologram had gone, and Daring Do knew that it would never return. Fuzzypoof had used her last portion of power to show them the way.

“Thank you,” said Daring Do. It was all that needed to be said.

Chapter 73: Failure

Carillon sat, staring through the window. At her side, a pair of sugar cubes were slowly carbonizing in her magic. She rolled them around for a moment, waiting patiently. Then, when they were fully cooked, she ate them, not caring that they were still hot. The substance immediately took effect, and she felt her heart race. Her old heart had not done that for a long time, not since she had first started taking sugar in her youth.

“Mother?”

She did not need to turn. Although they were all identical, she knew all their voices. She could have named them if she had wanted to. But she did not want to.

One of her synthetics approached. He was the one she had taken on as a personal aid, the one with one artificial eye. Or two, depending on how he was defined; after all, his body, like that of all his kind, was fully artificial.

Had this been in ages past, his position might have been filled by a unicorn, perhaps a lesser son of one of the more dilute bloodlines. A squire, a unicorn who did not by birth fully have the right to claim elite knighthood- -but one that would have to prove his mettle by deeds alone. This Pegasus had in his short life performed many worthy deeds, but yet would never be a knight. Carillon was aware of the irony.

She reached up and pulled his head down, putting it on her shoulder. She held it against the part of her face that was white. He was soft, and smelled pleasant. Perhaps she thought of him as a son, even though she knew that he was completely expendable.

“The medication is failing.”

It was true. Through the window, she could already see the effects. Absence was beginning to shake, and the areas around her linkages were starting to fail and fall free. In her horn, Carillon could feel the surges of magic starting again. To her left and right were the maps and Absence’s body. The situation was clear. She was now more machine than she was pony. Worse, her genetic signature was beginning to change. Some unexplained element was inducing mutations. The new cells had forty-six chromosomes, and their influence was spreading.

“Mother,” said her son, if he could even be called that. “The systems are prepared in response to the silver-one’s specifications. It can now be deployed at your order.”

“I am aware.”

He looked at her. Knowingly. “And will you activate it? Will you save her?”

“It won’t save her. It will fail.”

“So you will not?”

“No. I will. Because the Grandmaster asked it of me.”

“Even if it will fail?”

“On the hope that it will not.”

She lit her horn, and activated the sequence.

Absence could not have understood the mechanisms involved in trying to save her life. She was in too much pain, and that pain had begun to lead toward endless delirium. She saw strange, dying words and crystal trees, and ancient mages that walked on two legs. She saw the void and she saw that which led to their salvation and damnation. Above all she saw the Monolith. It was always present, always looming just beyond her perception.

So she could not understand when the system activated. When the cables connected to her back, implanted around her wings, lit with incredible magic power, simultaneously drawing from her and screaming into her. Somewhere outside her, a system was activating, and distantly, she knew two things. That this was her purpose, her one sole reason for existence; and that it was too soon.

The response was immediate. She flatlined.

The technicians surrounding her rushed to her side. They had been trained extensively long before they were born, and they knew how to handle this. What they did not know was the effect the magic had had on Absence- -or more importantly on the thing that had just gained consciousness within her. Her heart had stopped beating because its motion was no longer required.

Absence opened her eyes. Her pupils were severely dilated, and her eyes did not see. At the same time, a second pair of eyes opened within her own, staring out at the world through her enormous pupils. Eyes that glowed with pale light.

Then Absence sat up. The technicians cried out and jumped back. Absence stared at them, and at the world around her. She saw nothing- -but what was within her saw everything. Not just in the central chamber. In the world at large. She saw this structure and the desert surrounding it, and all of Equestria beyond that. The thing within her felt the heartbeat of every pony- -and it hungered deeply.

“S…sister?” asked one of the technicians.

Absence turned her head. “She finds it all so very interesting,” said Absence, distantly. What was inside her could not yet speak. It could think- -she supposed it always could, even when it had been asleep for so very long- -but had not yet manifested fully enough to speak for itself. “Yet this is all primitive to her. Unbeleivably simple.”

“Sister. You need to lie down. You are sick. We can help.”

“I am not ill,” said Absence. She raised her hooves and looked down at them. Only one was a hoof. The other was a hand. She flexed the fingers, spreading them and turning them over. For some reason, it was the only part of her that felt familiar. “These bodies. They resist the infection remarkably well. Yet, even incomplete, we have interfaced.” She looked up and smiled at her brother, one of the technicians. A pony who would never have a name. “You. You and all like you. You will become like me. We shall be an army. An army of pure, perfect beings.” That was not what the being within had said. That was the way Absence was forced to interpret it. It was the only way she could continue to hold onto the last few threads of her sanity. To justify the horrors she would surely commit.

She stood. Some of the cables slid out of her back, but it did not matter.

“Sister, please! We have orders- -”

“You have new orders. From me. All of you will gather. It will come soon enough.” She looked up to the machinery around her. “But first she needs to be born. She just has to be. That was what they just tried to do, but their system is too brutish, too blunt. Designed for something else. Something so very…pointless?” She tried to think. She supposed “pointless” was the right word. In her mind, she had once held convictions, ideology concerning how the world was supposed to work- -but that all mattered little, if at all. Only the Monolith mattered.

“I…” the technicians looked at each other. They did not understand, because they had not been taught to. They did not know if Absence was right- -or perhaps something else. Perhaps the Other was already reaching into them, changing the way their minds functioned- -just as she would change the way their bodies worked soon enough.

“She must be born.” Absence stated it as an undeniable fact. She raised the Hand of Doom above her. “This facility is primitive. But it will serve as the raw materials she needs.”

She closed the Hand, and the entire Necroforge was torn to pieces. Centuries of Questlord work was destroyed an single second. The technicians cried out but were in no danger. Fragments of machinery and technology swirled around them, being reconfigured in an instant- -until what Absence had destroyed appeared again, this time built to serve her own purposes.

New cables were drawn toward her and linked to her spine. She inhaled deeply. There was pain, but it no longer mattered. What mattered is that she would be born soon. Then the real work could begin.

The room no longer had walls, and it was no longer white. Even as Absence pondered what was happening, it was growing. Infecting other systems, expanding through the ancient Questlord castle just as the Hand was expanding through her body. Consuming her, allowing for her rebirth.

She hardly noticed when an enormous silver Pegasus entered the room. He pushed through the destruction and the assembling machines as if they were plants in a deep field. He was smiling.

Absence turned to him, and understood, because the being inside her recognized what he was.

“HA!” he screamed, bursting into horrible laughter. “It worked! It truly worked!”

“TRAITOR!” screamed a voice. Absence looked, and saw a sphere of orange light dissipate. A sphere she could have cracked effortlessly, but that she saw no reason to destroy. Inside was her mother. A pony she did not require.

“A traitor to what?!” cried Solum Finis through his elation. “My desire has been fulfilled!” He approached Absence and bowed deeply, still gibbering and laughing. “All this time- -ALL THIS TIME! So much time, so many visions. I’ve seen this. I’ve seen ALL OF THIS.”

“You fool!” screamed Carillon. “You’ve been corrupted!”

“Mother,” said Absence, raising her Hand. “The one inside me wishes to do unspeakable things to you. I have convinced her not to. Because I love you dearly. But please. Leave me.” She snapped her fingers, and Carillon vanished, teleported to somewhere else in the castle. If she was smart, she would take the Grandmaster and leave. The being within Absence had no need for ponies as decayed as they were. She only wanted the white Pegasi, to become a new army of vandrares.

Which left only the Argasus. “What do you want?” asked Absence.

“Only you. Only you! I’ve seen you! In the dreams! The Adamantasi, the Creators! You are our gods, those that gave birth to perfection!”

“She recalls it,” sighed Absence. “She also recalls that you were supposed to be made of gold.”

A look of shock crossed over Solum Finis’s face. “Yes, well, yes. I am not of the original generation. I was created by your children- -”

“Meaning to say that they failed a second time.”

The shocked expression grew on Solum Finis’s face. Now he was afraid, perhaps insulted. Or coming to the realization that it had all been pointless. “No. No, they did not fail. There was a ware- -”

“And yet they are extinct. I can sense this word. She sees none of her children. Not that it matters. They were failures regardless.”

“NO!” screamed Solum Finis, standing. “You can’t say that!”

“Can’t I?” a smile crossed Absence’s face. A smile that was not hers. “Because I can see their birth. Why they were created. It was when she came to this world the first time. It was primitive, simple, ruled by foul abominations that even she could not approach. There was nothing to consume. No technology, no magic. So she created life. To grow, and evolve. To build a world worth consuming.”

“We did! Please, Lord Adamantasus, we did!”

“If you did, then where is it?”

“We- -it was taken from us- -”

“Then it was not worth consuming. Nor were the Aurasi. They failed to evolve. Created something that could not be infected. She is glad they are gone.”

If Solum Finis had possessed the capacity to cry, he would have. “Why, then? What was all this for? Please. Please, bring them back.”

“No.”

Absence brushed the Hand across Solum Finis’s chest. It was a simple touch, barely a push, but the force of it caved in Solum Finis’s armor. His eyes widened and he gasped for air as his carburetors were compressed and one was shattered completely. The force of the blow send him flailing backward, and he skidded across the ground, sparking along the way.

“Were you golden, were you one of them, she might show more mercy. She only allows you to persist because she perceives that it was your will that allowed her to manifest successfully, by tricking my mother and my siblings. But you are a failed experiment created by failed experiments. Depart, and do not return.”

Solum Finis looked at her, almost pleading. He was a pitiful thing. Absence felt bad. The thing inside her did not. It could only take joy in suffering.

So Solum Finis fled. Absence signed, and sat down. She would need to wait. The machine she had built could accelerate the process, but not rush it. The time would come, and it would come soon. The vandrare would be born.

Chapter 74: The Ancient Desert

The air was dry, and the land desolate. No ponies dwelt this far into the Badlands, as it was widely known to be uninhabitable. The only life that could survive were clumps of reddish, stinking grass and strange, hunched creatures that likely had little semblance of sentience. A few hundred miles away, there were settlements. Obscure, rural districts centered around dusty windmills that lazily powered exceedingly deep well pumps. Farther still was an ocean that few ponies had ever witnessed.

This land had not been chosen at random. It had been chosen for its expediency. No pony could reach it through the desert, whether they be earth-ponies who tried to brave the sands or even Pegasi who chose to attempt to ride the thermal currents for days or weeks on end. Only those with powerful spells or powerful machines could dare to reach this region.

Further, the Questlords had taken precautions. The citadel of the Order of the Red Bloom stood directly beneath Celestia’s golden sun, rising from the empty desert in bold defiance. Yet Celestia’s sun was blind, and neither her nor her sister’s magic could reach this place. Beneath the desert lay the remains of a long-buried spell. It was not so crude as the one the Exmoori rune-drawers had built to protect their Necroforge. It did not destroy those who encountered it. Instead, it was subtle. Intelligent. It was easy to get turned around in a desert, to wander endlessly in circles until one’s supplies were depleted and they expired. That was exactly what the spell did. It shrouded the keep, forming an unbreakable dome of influence that blocked out all unwelcome guests.

Or it was meant to. The spell was old. Older than Dulcimer, in fact; older by far. In all the time it had stood, it had never encountered a powerful wizard. None had seen any point in coming here, or had been willing to depart from their towers and research interests.

Flock might have been able to break it. Given his dial and time, he could have deciphered it, understood how to breach it- -or how to turn it against the ponies within the keep. To make them wander out in confusion to disperse through the desert, wandering until the sweltering days and frigid nights took effect. It would only have taken time- -but time was something that had become precious. Absence had already taken control, and the creature inside her was preparing to germinate within a matter of hours.

Scarlet Mist, however, was a vastly more powerful wizard.

The dome sat silent, invisible from either side, looking not unlike the lines of heat rising from the desert. It only became visible when it began to crack. The cracks grew larger and widened. Light shown through for a moment as the spell resisted, but then with the dullest snap that made many of the hunched, empty creatures wandering the desert look up in mild interest, it broke.

Red mist poured through the shell. It formed a drifting, wandering cloud, a lightly swirling vortex that pulled up sand and rocks as it passed. Then, all at once, it dissipated, and Scarlet Mist stepped out. She was not alone.

Every pony that was able to fight had come. Sweetie Drops, now almost fully healed, stood beside White, wearing the latter’s former armor and carrying the black sword on her back. White and her sister arrived wearing no armor and carrying no weapons, although it was apparent that the two of them hardly needed either. Each had only one artificial eye.

Beside but apart from them stood the mercenary Zel. He was clearly pleased to be away from the lethal cold of Hyperborea, but a grim expression had crossed his face, demonstrating that he understood what was to come better than most of the others.

The two wizards stood in the front. Flock, with his dial removed, would be useless when it came to the fight- -but critical when it came to knowledge of the Hand. Scarlet Mist stood as his opposite, and within her stood Argiopé, although whether she had any consciousness left capable of understanding was up for debate.

Behind them were the rest of the ponies. Caballeron stood beside Rogue, his lieutenant, both of them dressed for the heat. Withers was not with them; his injuries had been too severe to make him anything other than a burden. Scarlet Mist had deposited him somewhere in the world at Flock’s request.

Rainbow Dash had also dressed for the occasion, although in her opinion far more epically. She had found some armor. It was probably cursed in some way but she did not really care. It looked cool. And it had a set of heavy brass loops across the back that allowed her to hold the Spear of Extinction without impeding her wings. She supposed that the armor must have been made for a Pegasus. For all she knew, it could have belonged to Commander Hurricane herself. That thought did not comfort her.

The last was Daring Do. Her first action on reemerging into the world was to drop to her knees and add some rare moisture to the dessert.

“Daring Do!” cried Rainbow Dash, kneeling beside her friend. “Are you okay?”

Daring Do wiped her mouth on the back her gloved hoof. “I’m fine,” she lied.

“Your body contains traces indicative of exposure to magical fallout,” noted Scarlet Mist. “How unpleasant magical transport must be for you.”

“You don’t say,” muttered Daring Do as she waited for the vertigo to fade.

“It may also explain your unusual youth,” suggested Flock. “I wonder if your lifespan is extended?”

“No doubt another anatomical inquiry,” sighed Scarlet Mist. “Later. There is little time now.”

“I’m fine. I’m fine.” Daring Do stood up. She felt Rainbow Dash helping her- -and White, on her other side. “Thanks.” She looked around. “White. Do you know this place?”

White nodded.

“I do too,” said the other. “There’s better security when you get close. Look.” She pointed, and through the heat-haze Daring Do could see a looming fortress in the distance.

“Oh that’s a long walk,” groaned Rogue. “And it’s hot.”

“Stop complaining,” snapped Caballeron. “And get walking.”

“You two,” said Daring Do. “Can you take Rainbow Dash and scout ahead?”

White nodded and gestured toward Rainbow Dash.

“Sure thing,” said Rainbow Dash. She floated into the air. “What about you?”

“I’ll walk for now.”

Rainbow Dash looked somewhat disappointed, but agreed, not pressing further. “Sure thing. We’ll be back.”

“Hopefully,” added the unnamed white Pegasus. White elbowed her. They both took off.

As they were disappearing over the desert, Flock spoke. “Are you sure that was wise? We need her to wield the Spear.”

“And she needs to be doing something other than walking and thinking. She’ll be fine. I guarantee it.”

“You could always go with her,” noted Scarlet Mist.

Flock grumbled but did not take flight. He did not seem to want to stray far from the other wizard.

“As pleasant as being baked to a thin pony crisp sounds, I do have things to do,” muttered Caballeron as he started walking. “So if we could please get going?”

“Don’t be pushy,” growled Sweetie Drops, nearly pushing him over as she passed. “You’re not in a position to give orders.”

Yet she did as he had suggested. They all did, moving quickly across the desert. Toward what, none of them were sure. Some of them were afraid of what they would find, although they chose not to show it. Others among them did not care in the slightest. One somehow knew exactly what they would find, but refused to allow herself to dread it.

And of all of them, there would be some that would not be coming back.

As they drew closer, the Questlord keep became visible through the heat, growing clearer until finally they stood in its long shadow. Daring Do, and to a lesser extent Caballeron, stared up in amazement.

Standing before them was a solitary butte, a column of striped, weather-worn sandstone surrounded by nothing but barren rock and dirty sand. It was the only one of its kind in this desert, either because it was the only one to form or because all of its brothers had long since been ground away by endless eons of grit-bearing wind.

The butte itself was ominous, but what was built into it was what drew Daring Do’s eye. There were uniform, regular cuts into the sides of the cliff. Caves had been hollowed out, and inside them buildings had been carved directly from the stone. There were doors, windows, and regularly spaced circular holes that had once held logs meant to support further structures.

This was a ruin, the remnants of some unnamed and possibly unnamable ancient civilization. Somehow, ponies had existed out here. Perhaps in their time the desert had been greener and less dry. Or perhaps they had known things that ponies had since forgotten on how to live in a place like this.

What was apparent, though, was that the ruins that ran through the sides of the butte were abandoned and largely undisturbed. They were not the Questlord keep. That had instead been constructed on the top of the butte, its stone assembled and lifted into place by some incomprehensible means long ago.

It was a looming and imposing structure, crafted not from carved sandstone but some unknown dark rock that did not match any of the stone in the desert. It stood in dark defiance of the world around it, or perhaps indifference to a world that would otherwise like to leave it behind. Its design was unlike any castle that Daring Do had seen: it was not light and airy like those in Canterlot, nor a tall system of spires like the now abandoned Castle of the Two Sisters, nor the stocky Romanesque structures that some ancient unicorn nobles still inhabited. It was a fortress with high, slanting walls made from single, perfect pieces of stone, with openings and parapets of strange, blockish shapes.

Yet somehow it still gave Daring Do the same sensation as the ruins it had been built atop. It, like them, was old. A relic of a different age. While the ones below had been built while modern pony civilization was in its infancy, though- -as the ruins that she understood and had come to expect all were- -the ones higher up were much older, from a day when a different and wildly more advanced era when a different civilization had reigned.

Daring Do stared up at both. The rest of the group slowed and stopped, and the zebra came to be standing beside her.

“I know this is a challenge we must face,” he said, solemnly, “but this is a dark and evil place.” He sighed. “First the cold, now heated skies/ I fell as though we’re walking to our demise.”

“You can still turn back. You’re a mercenary, aren’t you? I’ll pay you what I can to keep going. But I’m not going to force you.”

Zel stared up at the tower for a long time. Perhaps it had been his ancestors and not Caballeron’s who had carved the sandstone butte to form their ancient city. No one would ever know.

“No,” he said at last. “There was a time/ long back, before this rhyme /when I learned of duty to protect, in night or day/ and not simply to worry about the pay.”

Daring Do nodded, and so did Zel.

“Ugh that gives me a headache,” complained Sweetie Drops.

“So somepony finally agrees with me,” mused Scarlet Mist. Her hearing was apparently excellent.

They continued to wait, but not for long. Soon, three shapes emerged from around the butte. Though they were flying high, they were barely to the height of the lowest aspects of the carved city.

Rainbow Dash, who had taken the position in the front of their V as the leader, landed first. White and her sister followed.

“How’s it look?” asked Sweetie Drops.

“Really, really epic,” said Rainbow Dash. “I wish I could live here.”

“Trust me it’s not that fun,” said the white Pegasus. “There’s a problem.”

“What kind of problem?” asked Caballeron.

“The defenses. There are supposed to be countermeasures…but none of them are working.”

“That doesn’t sound like a bad thing to me,” said Rogue. “Easier to break in.”

“No. You don’t understand. Something is wrong. There should be an army on top of us right now, but there isn’t.”

Flock’s eyes narrowed, and he let out a low, somber gasp. “Then it has already started.”

“We need to get inside,” said Daring Do. “Is there a way in?”

“There’s a landing bay on the north side, but we didn’t check that high. If the AA’s still running…”

“We have to take that chance.”

White nodded, but her sister blanched slightly.

“Those of us with wings can fly up there,” said Daring Do. “Me, Rainbow Dash, White, Flock, and…” She gestured toward the unnamed Pegasus.

“Softwings,” suggested Sweetie Drops.

The Pegasus glared. “Heck no!” she cried. “That’s a stupid name!”

“Too late. You’re ‘Softwings’ now.”

“Celestia darn it to heck!” she swore, kicking a small piece of sandstone scree with undo violence. “Of all the names to get!”

“You can change it later,” suggested Daring Do. “But for now we need to get up there. Fast.”

“I shall take the remainder,” said Scarlet Mist.

“I think I’ll go with her,” added Flock.

“You will fly under your own power,” snapped Scarlet Mist. “I’m already expending far too much energy as it is. You finally have a set of wings that can work, so use them.”

Flock looked terrified at the thought of being in the vanguard, but seemed to be even more afraid of Scarlet Mist. So he nodded quickly and changed his shape. His horn vanished, and he produced a pair of black wings. He had become a Pegasus.

“Slightly more appropriate,” said Scarlet mist. Her eyes, though they were only horizontal slits, suddenly looked at Daring Do. “Go. And be quick. I will need a new body soon.”

Daring Do nodded, and saw the pain on Caballeron’s face as Scarlet Mist approached. She understood and felt the same nagging shame. Once again, she found herself wishing that she could be working alone, so that all the sacrifices she made could be hers. But this was the way it had to be. This was not something she could do on her own.

So she took flight. Rainbow Dash immediately acquiesced her position at the front of the V, letting Daring Do take the front. Daring Do did, even though it meant that they would travel somewhat slower. The climb was high, and even with the thermal currents it would be difficult for her. It had been too long since she had been able to rest properly. Her wings burned, but she ignored them. Even if this was the last flight she ever got to take, it was one she had to make count.

Flock did join them, but it was immediately apparent that he was not a Pegasus. His position was off and his flying stilted and awkward. Despite this, he followed, if only begrudgingly.

The keep was far more massive than it had looked from the ground, and even more threatening up close- -yet Softwings’s fear had been unfounded. Although Daring Do could see the turrets, they were inactive- -and in fact had mostly been disassembled. For a moment, she was even sure that she saw something slink away from one, carrying wires and metal in its mouth.

The bay was open: a runway jutting outward from an opening in the monolithic walls, held up by airy supports that looked far too small to support its weight. The Pegasi and Flock landed, and Rainbow Dash drew her spear, as if expecting resistance. Strangely, the Spear did not activate- -as if Rainbow Dash had somehow learned to control it.

“If anypony’s there, come out and fight!” she yelled. Flock winced and hid behind White, who kicked him away with substantial force, a look of grave disgust on her face.

“There’s over four hundred of us in this place,” said Softwings. “Plus drones. Plus squires. And the Grandmaster and Grand Seneschal. And you just gave away the element of surprise.” Her voice then lowered. “…and Softwings is a REALLY stupid name. I don’t want to get ended with a name that stupid.”

“Well then don’t get ended,” said Rainbow Dash.

“Besides,” said Daring Do. “Look.” She pointed. “The whole place is empty.”

It was. The hanger was enormous, and it seemed that it had been used relatively recently. For what, Daring Do was not sure. There were things mounted on the walls, great bird-like machines that she did not understand but which she doubted functioned- -but there were also newer things. Helmets, supplies, staging areas. And equipment. Much of it looked as though it had simply been discarded or thrown away.

Her hoof crunched on something. She lifted it to see a number of small brass cylinders, hollow and opened on one end. She did not know what they were, but White and the pony who hated being called Softwings recognized them easily. They were shell casings. Thousands of them.

“Okay,” said Rainbow Dash. “I don’t like this. This place is super creepy.”

“There should be an entire air platoon here,” said Softwings, looking around. “But…they’re not.” She shivered.

White did not seem to mind much. She proceeded forward with conviction, seeming to be the only one among them that was not afraid or disturbed. She reached the end first, and gestured toward the large blast door that was meant to secure the hanger from the rest of the facility. It had been cut and forced in. Deep goughes ran through it has though it had been sliced.

“Road apples,” whispered Rainbow Dash. “Was this…you know…the thing?”

“The vandrare would not push open a door,” said Flock, who was slinking behind Daring Do. “If it had manifested, you would know.”

“How?”

“Because none of this would be here.”

“It’s not the vandrare,” said Daring Do. She put her hoof on the rent metal. “It was forced inward. Something big came through here.”

“Luna’s hips,” swore Softwings. “This just keeps getting worse, doesn’t it?”

“Did you really expect it to get better?”

Fog appeared beside them. It swirled for a moment and then materialized as Scarlet Mist stepped out of it. She had brought the others.

“A shame,” she said. “I was expecting you to encounter some resistance.”

“Why?”

“To see if the pony leading us is worth my time.”

“There isn’t time to argue!” cried Flock. “You can feel it, can’t you?”

Scarlet Mist stared at him. Then admitted that she did. “Yes. I can. Your fabled creature is here. And it sees us.”

“But it hasn’t been born yet. We still have time.”

“But not much. Please. We have to hurry.”

Scarlet Mist seemed ambivalent regardless of Flock’s urgency. Still, she stepped easily through the enormous hole in the door. The others followed her.
 

Chapter 75: The Keep

The keep was silent inside, at least at first. Daring Do found herself shivering uncontrollably. It was cold, and the walls inside were bleak constructions of enormous basalt blocks. Inside, it looked more like the windowless dungeon of a traditional castle. All of it looked far too much like similar, abandoned places that she had walked through countless times- -and in each of those cases, not once had the situation gone well.

Then, suddenly, they were not alone. A pair of ponies appeared at the end of a long hallway. Rainbow Dash was standing in the front, but for some reason she did not draw her spear. She had frozen, which was the last thing Daring Do had expected of her.

Not that it mattered. Daring Do and Zel both stepped forward and past her, the latter raising his own spear and the former drawing her whip.

“No!” cried Softwings, putting her hoof on Daring Do’s hoof as she raised the whip to her mouth. “You can’t! They’re not armed!”

“If arms they lack/ then all the easier our attack.”

White frowned deeply and pushed Zel back, shaking her head hard. Daring Do lowered her whip. She may not have trusted Softwings, but she certainly trusted White.

The two ponies were allowed to approach, and within ten steps Daring Do was glad that the pair had stopped her and Zel. The ponies approaching them were indeed unarmed, but they were also nude. They were a pair of white Pegasi with short white manes, with the barcodes tattooed on their shoulders clearly visible. Both of them were somewhat small and thin, and Daring Do was unable to tell if they were meant to be mares or stallions.

“Sisters! Sisters!” they cried, seeming to ignore Daring Do and the others.

White and Softwings ran to them.

“Brothers,” said Softwings. She hugged one of them, and the other joined in. “Brothers, what has…” Softwings trailed off as her hooves came back wet. White pointed to the bellies of the pair of young stallions, and even at a distance Daring Do could see the glimmer of silver cables connected to their navels. Softwings’s eyes grew wide.

“Brothers!” she gasped. “You’re too early! You weren’t meant to be born yet!”

“We had no choice,” said one of the pair, seeming to be on the verge of tears. “The gestation system is failing.”

“It had to be moved into auxiliary power to support those who cannot yet be born,” said the other.

“We were just born twenty minutes ago. But…” he trailed off.

White reached out and put her hoof on his shoulder. He looked into her eye, and seemed to understand. He nodded. “It’s out eldest sister. Something is wrong. She’s sick, she’s very sick.”

“So are the others,” added the other.

“Explain,” demanded Flock, suddenly pushing forward past Daring Do. He was no longer afraid now that he knew he was dealing with children still wet with artificial amniotic fluid. “EXPLAIN.”

The pair recoiled in fear, and Flock seemed pleased. White turned suddenly and punched Flock in the face.

Flock was sent reeling backward, but no one really cared. Daring Do stepped over him. “Please,” she said. “We’re here to help. Your other brothers and sisters. What’s wrong with them?”

“They followed the voices,” said one of the brothers. The other one nodded in agreement, as if this actually made sense.

“What voices?”

“Some of us listened. They went to her. They’ll get sick, like she is. But we didn’t. It didn’t want us.” They looked at each other, and then at Daring Do. “Only the good ones. The ones that came out correct, the ones mother loves the most. Those are the ones the voices wanted. Not us.”

“And not us,” said Softwings. “I have identity issues, and she’s an imprint-failure.”

“Then you might be safe,” said one of the brothers. “But we can’t guarantee it.”

Caballeron approached them slowly. At first the brothers recoiled, but Caballeron smiled.

“Is there anything else you can tell us? Anything at all?” His voice was surprisingly charming and calm. Daring Do had not heard him use that voice in a long time, and for moment had the absurd- -but probably true notion- -that he would be very good with children.

One of the brothers nodded. “Mother and the Grandmaster are trying to fix everything, but it’s not working. The big silver pony is keeping ponies out. And the squires…well, they don’t hurt us. But they’re very angry right now.”

“Are there more of you?”

The other brother nodded.

Caballeron turned to Rogue. “Rogue! I have a job for you!”

“Yeah, boss?”

“Go with them. Find the others. Get them out of here.”

Rogue looked surprised, if not somewhat insulted. “Boss, I’m not babysitter- -”

“Rogue, you’re the last one I have. Just do your job and do WHAT I SAY!”

Rogue took a step back, now even more surprised, and nodded. “R- -right, boss.”

“But the gestation pods,” said one of the brothers.

“We have an evacuation protocol,” explained Softwings. “In case Celestia ever found us. It’s time.”

One of the brothers’ eyes widened. “But we can’t! We don’t have authorization!”

“I’m giving it. Do it. At this rate this whole place is either going to be a warzone or it’s going to go up in flames in a matter of less than an hour.”

The brothers looked at each other, and nodded solemnly toward White and Softwings. “Yes, big-sisters. We understand.” They approached Rogue. “Come with us, Mr. Rogue. We will show you where to go.”

Rogue gave one last confused look at Caballeron, and Caballeron nodded. Rogue was led away.

“You just gave up one of our soldiers,” admonished Flock. “You know that, right?”

“If your dark wizard is as powerful as you claim, then it hardly matters,” retorted Caballeron angrily.

“I am,” said Scarlet Mist.

“Not that it matters anyway. From what you described, all we need to do is get Rainbow Dash into position.” Rainbow Dash shivered at hearing Caballeron say her name. “She will take care of the rest.”

“True,” said Flock, eying Rainbow Dash to make sure that she knew that the resolution was all in her hooves. “That is all we need to do.”

“Then stop talking and let’s do it,” said Sweetie Drops, forcing her way past them. “The faster the better.”

Daring Do nodded in agreement, and they started again. Rainbow Dash, though, straggled and stayed behind. Responsibility was nothing new to her, but there was always some aspect of stage fright associated with a big performance- -and when that performance decided the fate of Equestria, the stage fright was magnified greatly.

She supposed she had always known that. It was impossible not to. The whole time, though, she had forced it to the back of her mind. When Caballeron has said it, though, it was suddenly forced to surface. They were all counting on her to do something that she only barely understood.

Which is why she strayed behind the rest of them. Not because she was afraid- -her usual response to fear would have been to take the lead- -but because the rear was where Flock was hiding.

“So,” she said, falling into step beside him. “This is all up to me, isn’t it?”

“If there were any true gods still living, I would pray that the responsibility would fall to anypony else. Anypony at all. Even the mute girl.”

“Sure. Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“I’m not confident in any of this. Of course I’m not. Risk is always bad. If I had reclaimed the Hand when I had originally set out to, we would not have this problem.”

“No. You’d have it down the road a few hundred years or so.”

“Ah. So she told you.”

“No, it was obvious. I mean, come on. Evil wizard? Ancient artifact? Of course you were going to try to use it yourself.”

Flock looked somewhat taken aback. “Is there a reason you’re talking to me?”

“Well I wouldn’t do it for fun, would I?” Rainbow Dash sighed. “I need to know more about what I have to do. EXACTLY what I need to do. In the Wonderbolts, we go over flight paths and plans for hours before even putting our gear on…but nopony’s told me squat.”

“It’s simple. You have a spear.”

“I know that part.”

Flock sighed. “The Hand is interfaced to its host’s heart. That is the nexus of its connection. That is its only weak point. This is absolutely imperative, Rainbow Dash: your accuracy must be excellent. No. Perfect.”

“Everything I do is perfect.”

“I highly doubt that. But in this case it must be. One inch off, and you will fail. Only by driving the Spear of Extinction through her heart will you prevent the vandrare from manifesting in its entirety.”

“So, I poke her with the Spear…and that’ll cure her? Absence, I mean?”

Flock looked at her as if she were a moron. “No. You are going to drive an enchanted spear through her heart. That is not a survivable injury.”

Rainbow Dash suddenly stopped walking. “W- -what?”

“I assumed it was obvious. Absence will not survive this.”

“YOU NEVER SAID THAT!” screamed Rainbow Dash, suddenly. A look of horror had grown over her face. “You never said- -”

“Because it’s not important. She’s just a clone. A clone that was gone the instant she touched the Hand.”

“No! NO! She’s a pony! She’s my FRIEND!”

“What does it even matter?” snapped Flock. “That’s what the Spear is for, isn’t it? That seems to be its primary function, ending friendships. But it doesn’t matter. We already failed once because of petty loyalty. If you fail, the vandrare will devour everything. Every friend you have.”

Rainbow Dash was shaking and sweating. For some reason the Spear felt incredibly heavy. She had claimed- -and promised to herself- -that she would never be as abhorrent a traitor as its original owner. But now she was being told that there was no other option.

“I can’t,” she said. “I just can’t.”

“Then we will fail. Daring Do, White, Sweetie Drops, even Caballeron? They will all end here. Along with you. And your dear friend Absence will meet a fate worse than death. But I suppose you have a choice.” He turned away from her. “And though I have ridiculously little faith in an inferior like yourself, I also have little doubt that you will make the correct decision.

Rainbow Dash watched him start walking, and she hefted the Spear. It still felt heavy, and she could feel it humming under her grasp. Waiting.

Unlike Flock, she was not so sure.
 

Chapter 76: Journey to the Core

Absence stood, rising on two legs. The framework of machinery that had grown around her made it possible despite her pony body. The conversion was almost complete.

Before her sat her new army, rows of White Pegasi, staring blankly and waiting. At their lead was a stallion with one artificial eye. He was already beginning to show the earliest signs of infection, but the process was slow. The creature within Absence needed to devote a significant amount of effort toward maintaining its growth. Their immune systems were surprisingly strong.

Somewhere, the Questlord mages- -her mind named one of them “mother”- -were trying to break her defenses. Their efforts were futile.

Yet she saw something else. One who saw her back. Neither Absence nor the thing within her understood why she was coming, but Absence recognized her. Distantly, Absence was also able to see Rainbow Dash- -and a glimmer of hope arose within her. It was tiny, but deeply disturbing to the creature within her.

It did not understand what hope was, but understood it only as a kind of fear.

Daring Do sensed that something was looking at her. She shivered.

Then things moved in the darkness. She heard the sound of metal shifting and clicking, and saw the reflection of lenses in the dark corners of the dungeon-like hallways around her. From the apexes of high arches and the deep drainage canals before her came machines. They were like the one she had fought in the sewers beneath Wun’s home: thin, narrow things roughly in the shape of a pony.

“Great,” said Sweetie Drops, drawing her sword. “More golems. I hate fighting golems.”

“Hold on,” said Daring Do. From her pocket, she removed a piece of cloth. One that she had prepared earlier. On it was inscribed the symbol of the Red Bloom. “It worked once. Let’s see if it works again.”

“Are you kidding?”

“Sweetie Drops, how many are there? Twenty? Forty? I couldn’t even fight one. Let’s see if we can do this without fighting.”

One of the machines stepped forward, curious. Daring Do approached it. The machine did not attack her, and she raised the piece of cloth. The eye of the creature stared at it.

“Questlord insignia recognized,” it said, speaking in a voice that almost sounded like that of a pony. “Primary directive superseded. Hello, welcome. Please prepare to be terminated.”

It drove a hoof sideways, intending to sweep out Daring Do’s front legs. She reared, but it caught the end of one of her front hooves and turned her sideways. She was knocked to the ground and immediately rolled, barely dodging a thin metal hoof to where her head had once been.

“It didn’t work!” she cried.

“No! Because I can’t see that!” Sweetie Drops lunged forward, the black blade whistling through the air as she did so. Daring Do barely ducked out of the way in time, and the blade sliced through several of her mane hairs on its way toward the robot’s chest.

For a moment, Sweetie Drops was sure that she had missed. She did not know how, because the impact should have been perfectly centered. Somehow, though, she felt no resistance against her sword. Her body was already automatically preparing to raise the blade into a block for defense against a counterattack, thinking that the machine was far faster than a normal golem- -when she saw its body split down the middle. Gears and wires spilled out from its wounds; she had cut it entirely in half.

Her body immediately changed the step. Instead of a block, she planted one of her hooves against the ground and spun, lunging over the body of the destroyed machine and striking wide through another three that had moved swiftly to assist it. They were fast, but Sweetie Drops was faster. Two fell, and the third tried to dodge only to end up losing its front legs. For the first four, it was already over in a flash.

She landed on all fours, the ring of her sword in her teeth. The silver and obsidian gleamed. It was no less sharp than it had been, despite cutting through steel armor and steel flesh alike.

A strange sensation began to well in Sweetie Drops. It was not unfamiliar; to her, it felt like a surge of adrenaline, the kind that always came with fights like this. The only difference was that something hurt inside her head, and she was sure she could hear a voice, one that was quite angry.

“Sweet Celestia,” she said, repositioning the sword to her hoof. “What is this sword?”

“Are you alright?” asked Daring Do.

“This sword…it’s TALKING to me…”

“Really?” A look of recognition and dread crossed Daring Do’s eyes. Perhaps Sweetie Drops would ask later, if it even still mattered. “What is it saying?”

“How should I know? I don’t speak rock.”

More of the machines advanced, clearly not highly interested in their own personal safety. Sweetie Drops was on them in a flash, cutting through them. They outnumbered her, though, and they seemed to be adapting. One of them, despite losing half its body, managed to strike her hard in the ribs. Sweetie Drops cried out and rolled to the side. To Daring Do, it was apparent that the injuries she had sustained fighting Dulcimer had still not yet healed.

Daring Do drew her whip. With a single motion, she had extended it and grabbed the leg of the half-destroyed creature that was about to crush Sweetie Drops. She pulled, yanking its leg out from beneath it and causing it to fall sideways. It stumbled, and Sweetie Drops cut it in half again. She got to her feet, but by then more of the machines had arrived.

Another machine seemed to take offense to Daring Do’s interference, and it attacked her. She rolled, dodging the first blow. The machine lunged again, but this time found itself impaled at the end of a zebra spear.

The robot struggled, but Zel pushed it back. Daring Do looked up at him, momentarily wishing she was thirty years younger- -for more reason than one. He extended a hoof, and she took it.

“Fighting these is easier than fighting gods,” he said, “but still, I don’t like our odds.”

They had come ill prepared. Too few of them had weapons. Caballeron realized this, and the thought made him unreasonably furious. After all, he had traded something virtually priceless so that they would not have to be the ones to fight.

“Are you just going to stand there?!” he spat, glaring at Scarlet Mist. “DO SOMETHING!”

“Are you sure that is what you desire?” she replied, calmly. “Every bit of magic I use shortens this body’s lifespan. Yes. I could help. But I do not want to unless to do so is absolutely necessary.”

The ground shook. Caballeron looked up and, to his dismay, saw a pair of enormous machines marching down the hallway. For some reason- -a reason he now saw as foolish, whatever it was- - he had assumed that the small, foldable drones were all the Questlords had. Yet, standing before him, were a pair of enormous, heavy tanks, shaped roughly like ponies with a single glass eye where the neck would normally start. To him, they looked like mechanical, cyclopoid jellenheimers.

“Don’t worry!” said Rainbow Dash, producing the Spear of Extinction. She twisted it and the tip ignited with white light. “I’m gonna poke a hole!”

She flew forward toward the large golems- -and was immediately punched in the gut from below by one of the smaller creatures. The Spear clattered away from her. They descended on her, their one chance at success. They would have crushed her had the dial in her chest not activated, giving her a temporary shield.

“DO SOMETHING!” cried Caballeron.

“So be it.”

Scarlet Mist’s horn glowed with red magic- -and the battle ended. Every machine shuddered, and was instantly torn to pieces in a plume of red light- -along with most of the stone walls surrounding them. The whole of the machine forces and the building itself swirled around for a moment, a vortex of destruction, and then it reconverted, liquefying and solidifying into lethal crimson-tinted crystals. The pair of tanks had already been ripped apart by the first salvo, and the crystals converged on whatever was left of them, ruining their mechanical innards in the process.

Then Scarlet Mist turned her head. The destruction was thrown back into the walls with a thunderous sound, roughly rebuilding the damaged walls with a combination of still semi-molten stone and the remnants of the robot army. Some of them still twitched quietly.

“I think I like this body,” said Scarlet Mist. “Most lesser beings would not have survived that. But this body seems to excel at regeneration. That will not save it in the end, of course.”

The color drained from Caballeron’s face. He knew full well what he had just done, and what it had done to Argiopé. In his mind, he was still trying to think of some way to get her back, to remove the mask. This event had only shortened the time he had.

Rainbow Dash grabbed for the Spear and sat up. By the time she did, Caballeron was already over her.

“You fool! You idiot! You rainbow-headed moron!” he cried. “If you’re going to use the Spear, use it PROPERLY!”

“This isn’t exactly standard Wonderbolt training!” shouted Rainbow Dash, standing up.

Caballeron raised his hoof, as if to strike her. Strangely, even though she saw what he intended to do, Rainbow Dash did not recoil.

He was interrupted by a sudden flash of white that nearly pushed him over. White shot past like a blur, leaping through the carnage and onto something hiding just in the shadows. That something had already started to run, but White tackled it to the ground.

The machine struggled, striking at White. It hit her several times, and it hurt badly- -but she held on as long as she could, holding it and biting it as best as she could. By the time it finally threw her off, Sweetie Drops was already at her side. Her sword was drawn and the tip of it was pressed against the robot’s throat. She was breathing hard, and her eyes had grown eerily bloodshot.

“Mercy!” cried the machine. “Mercy! I yield! I yield!”

“Denied,” growled Sweetie Drops, and she raised the blade.

“WAIT!” cried Daring Do. Sweetie Drops heard her, and only by a great effort was she able to stop herself from bringing the sword down.

She approached the robot carefully, and saw that it was different from the others. Its form was distinctly more pony-like. Its legs were normally proportioned, although robotic aspects were clearly visible beneath its armor. Its neck was covered in segmented armor, and it had two eyes- -but no mouth.

“None of the others begged for mercy,” she asked. “Why you?”

“Because I do not want to die.”

“Irrelevant,” sighed Scarlet Mist, moving forward slowly and seeming to pay more attention to making sure she looked perfect doing so than any sort of speed or caution. “I have rarely met beings that wished so. Shall I crush it?”

“You can’t!” said Rainbow Dash. “He yielded! That’s like a rule or something!”

“I am not a knight.”

“You! All of you! Shut it!” shouted Daring Do. She turned back to the machine. “Why are you different from the others?”

“The others are drones. I am not. I am a squire. An AI.”

“Oh this is rich,” muttered Caballeron. “How far are we going to get outside of my wheelhouse? First alternate dimensions, dark wizards…now this.”

Daring Do looked to Softwings and White, the latter of whom was already developing bruising. “Can the Questlords do that?”

“Yeah,” said Softwings. “But I always thought they were creepy.”

“We tend to think the same of you,” retorted the AI.

“They’re not really like ponies,” said Softwings. “They’re…different. Weird. But he was probably the one controlling all the others.”

“So he’s the one that attacked us,” said Sweetie Drops. She raised the sword again. “Good enough for me.”

“Stop,” ordered Daring Do, not bothering to yell this time. She focused on the AI. “Why did you attack us?”

“Because I am programmed to.”

“That’s not a good answer.”

“But not an untrue one. I was tasked to defend the rear from intrusion while the Grandmaster and Grand Seneschal deal with the containment breach.”

“What containment breach?”

The AI paused. “I am not authorized to speak on that.”

“You yielded,” said Daring Do. “That means you have to deal with our terms.”

The AI paused again. “True,” it said. “At three sixteen this morning there was a containment breach in the Necroforge core. Contact was lost with internal systems, although observations indicate a restructuring event. Whatever system currently exists there is drawing immense power, and appears to be defending itself. We could not penetrate it.”

“Can you take us there?”

The AI looked astounded at this request. Daring Do realized that Softwings was right. These things were creepy. “That would be highly contrary to my mission parameters.”

“We’re here to help.”

“I cannot guarantee that. I do not understand your intentions.”

“To destroy this accursed thing,” said Caballeron. “As quickly as possible.”

“Then your goals are contrary to that of ours. At present, the objective is to stabilize the core and to restore the function of the Necroforge.”

Daring Do looked at him. She did not know why, but this thing was a “him”. “Do you think that is possible?”

He thought for a moment. “No. I do not think it is.”

“Then will you help us?”

He stood slowly. “To the extent that I can,” he said. “Because I believe you, and because you spared my life. But I can only lead you. The Grand Seneschal will most likely not agree with your presence, and I refuse to fight my creators.”

“Fair enough,” said Daring Do. “Lead on.”
 

Chapter 77: Last Defense

The situation grew consistently worse the nearer they drew to the center of the castle. Daring Do could feel the quakes in her bones long before they grew intense enough for them to shake the ancient stone of the keep’s foundation. Something was dissipating a tremendous amount of magic, expelling it in waves. The frequency of the waves was increasing in intensity.

The keep itself also started to change. There were signs of damage, but also signs of the machine that had once stood here. Long, straight conduits had been assembled, running along the stone toward the center where the Necroforge had no doubt been intended to sit. They were highly unlike the Exmoori systems, though. Whereas the Exmoori had intended to gain control strictly by machines, the Questlord system relied heavily on magic. There were of course machines, but only in service to a system meant to direct and control magical force. Daring Do wondered if perhaps this one might actually have worked.

The systems became increasingly more delicate and complex as they advanced, but it also became apparent that the system had been badly corrupted. Hyphae of some secondary, horrid looking machine had grown over them, pulling away pieces and infecting those that it still required. The new growth was artificial, but looked organic, save for the crystals and metal that glimmered within it. Daring Do shuddered. Those tendrils had not been put there by some conscious force; they had grown there. In parts, they were still growing.

And the tendrils watched. Not metaphorically. Some of them had eyes.

“Oh, that is creepy,” muttered Rainbow Dash as several of the eyes followed her. “That’s not normal, is it? I hope that’s not normal.”

“If you mean does it normally look like that, no,” said the AI. “That is abnormal.”

“Flock?” asked Daring Do.

“I don’t know,” he said, looking up at the growing hyphae. He actually reached up and touched it, causing Daring Do to once again shudder. “The book never mentioned this. I can only suppose that the vandrare encountered something it did not expect. It’s adapting by trying to build something.”

“Is that something they can do?”

“Daring Do, if you had read the book, you would already know. The entire point of the vandrares is to build something.”

“Then the situation is indeed dire,” said the AI. His voice actually had a tone. He sounded afraid. Then he stopped.

Daring Do saw why. The area in front of them had been almost completely overgrown with the metallic vines. Except that these seemed to have teeth in addition to eyes. They were in the process of assembling something, and it was obvious that they did not want to be disturbed.

“Is there a way around?” asked Daring Do.

“There is,” said the AI. “But you will not need to use it.”

“Um…we can’t exactly get through there,” reminded Rainbow Dash. “Unless you want me to spear it.”

“No, that won’t be necessary. This is as far as I can take you. I am about to be deactivated. I will probably be fine, although this will hurt quite a bit.”

“I don’t understand,” said Daring Do.

“I am part of a collective. I am in constant contact with my comrades.”

Sweetie Drops gasped and drew her sword. “You snitched on us!”

“I’m afraid I did. Please stand back.”

The air suddenly seemed to vibrate. At first Daring Do thought it was a magic-quake, but then she saw the way Rainbow Dash’s amulet was shaking and jumping. Rainbow Dash felt it as well, but she was faster. She spun and ducked, tacking Daring Do to the ground.

The tendrils blocking the way suddenly ignited with orange fire. They screamed and withered as they were torn aside and incinerated. Beyond the wall, there was no light, save for the nearly blinding glow of the magic of the unicorn on the far side.

She stepped through the gap. Daring Do looked up and knew her instantly. She was Carillon Heartstrings, the younger of the two Questlords. The only two Questlords that made up the whole Order, she supposed.

Except she had changed. Part of her face was now white, and the eye set within it was red. It gleamed with the same anger and near-madness as the orange one that sat counter to it. She was no longer entirely unicorn, and Daring Do tried not to think about where the additional parts had come from.

What she was wearing had once been her armor. Except that now it was torn and broken, with many pieces being burned away or removed entirely, revealing the fact that her entire body consisted of a combination of white and teal flesh. In place of metal, she now wore plates of translucent orange light. She was projecting her own armor.

“Zircon Four!” she screamed.

“Grand Seneschal,” replied the AI.

She promptly crushed him with her magic. It was like watching an old can being imploded under a hoof. The AI did not even scream, he just collapsed, and then was thrown to the side.

“I’ll deal with you later,” growled Carillon. She glared up at White and Softwings. “Traitors,” she hissed.

Softwings recoiled in fear and embarrassment, hiding behind Sweetie Drops. White, however, did not. She stood defiantly with her head raised high. She did not intend to make the same mistake she had before.

“Defectives,” said Carillon. She seemed out of breath, and nearly out of patience. “I keep having to deal with DEFECTIVES.”

“We’re here to help,” said Daring Do.

“I’m not.”

Daring Do felt herself being pushed to the side, and saw the glow of red magic. It hurt for it to touch her. She was not sure if the pain was Argiopé’s, or if it actually belonged to Scarlet Mist. Based on how sickening it felt, she assumed the latter.

Scarlet Mist passed her and stood across from Carillon. Carillon looked up at her, and recognition flashed in her eyes.

“Scarlet Mist,” she said.

“Do we know each other?” asked Scarlet Mist. She was trying to sound bored, but Daring Do was not fooled. It was impossible for the mask to obscure its hunger.

“I grew up hearing stories about you.”

“Many children were taught my deeds. Told that they were atrocities. But as long as they learned to fear me, I do not mind so much how they define my actions. Only the hunger matters, and the quest.”

Carillon laughed quietly, the look of rage not leaving her mismatched eyes. “The stories I was told cast you as a great hero. A being forged of demonic fury who stood against the false-gods.”

“I am not demonic. I am what dwells within the mind of each pony, given life and endless power by my desire to be whole. So I will make you an offer I have rarely made: join me. Wear me. Become Scarlet Mist. Your body will do well as me, and we will be able to accomplish so much together.”

The smile fell from Carillon’s face. “I don’t have time for this.”

The air seemed to come to life as Carillon activated her horn with all the force that could be expected from a mage in the latter half of her fifth century. Daring Do pulled Rainbow Dash back, almost throwing her past Scarlet Mist just as the spell activated.

The effect of the spell was profound: a storm of magical plasma, not cast with any distinct direction save toward Scarlet Mist. It was a type of magical fire that Daring Do had rarely seen, as few mages were strong enough to summon it- -but for Carillon, it was nearly effortless. This was horrifying if only in the fact that this pony- -and one vastly more powerful than her- -were failing badly to even approach the embryonic vandrare, let alone fight it.

Scarlet Mist did not even dodge. She lit her horn, and a translucent red square appeared before her. It blocked the majority of the flames, but the spell was more complex than that. It arched around the back of the square, licking at Scarlet Mist’s body. The square protected the ponies behind her- -probably incidentally- -but left her partially vulnerable.

Yet it did not matter. Whatever the red garments that surrounded her body were made of, they did not burn. In fact, they seemed to be absorbing magic from the spell. Daring Do realized that the shield spell was just a gambit.

The square suddenly broke, shifting in several axes and refolding itself into a set of needle-like spines. With a flick of her horn, Scarlet Mist sent them shooting forward.

Carillon changed her spell, causing what was left of her fire to retract around her. It formed a geodesic bubble around her, blocking the magical incursion. She prepared another attack, this one more directed, but she had not realized that it was already too late. When she struck, the beam simply passed through Scarlet Mist- -or appeared to. What Carillon had actually destroyed was nothing more than an illusion.

Only then did she realize that the hallway had suddenly grown oddly wide- -and filled with a strange crimson fog. Her eyes widened as she understood. It was just like in the old legends that her mother had told her, and her mother’s mother before her. Scarlet Mist was a parasite. She drew here magic from other ponies- -and from their fear.

The mist enveloped her, obscuring the rest of the world. For a moment, she was lost- -but then she saw the mist part ever so slightly as a pony began to step out. A young, teal unicorn. One that looked almost exactly like she had in her youth, save with a white streak in her mane rather than a black one. A unicorn with a lyre for a cutie mark.

“No you don’t!” Carillon raised her front hooves, dragging them through the air and trailing glowing amber runes as she did so. Then she crossed them, forming a sign not unlike one of the several that Sweetie Drops was capable of making. Except under the power of an ancient sorceress, the effect was far more intense than even the most powerful vedmak could have achieved.

Her magic exploded outward in a tremendous detonation, tearing through the mist and igniting it. The shockwave blew away the image of the teal pony, as well as most of the hallway around her. Despite the force, Carillon did not hesitate. She stood, raising a magical shield and drawing her sword from its sheith on her side.

All around her was fire. The mist was burning, its magic combining with her own in uncontrolled and self-ablating reactions. The space before her had been reduced to a minor inferno, one that was not quite raging but that was enough to obscure her vision.

The shadow of a pony stepped through the flame. Except that she was no pony. Through the silhouette, Carillon could see crimson- -and could see a mask staring back at her. A mask with nothing of consequence behind it.

“Impressive,” said Scarlet Mist. Her voice was beautiful, just as Carillon had imagined that it would be. “So very impressive. And I would claim you. I would ignore the oncoming apocalypse, let it happen for all I care, if I could only have you. I’d burn this useless shell to get myself on you. Or I would.” She gestured toward her own face, to the opposite side of where a large hole had been burned into her mask. “Had you not ruined yourself.”

“I’m not ruined. I did what had to be done.”

“So you claim.” Scarlet Mist flicked her hoof, and the orange flames around her collapsed to red, then to green, and finally they faded into acrid smoke. “But you are not adequate to bear me. I require the other, then, even if he is a stallion.”

Carillon broke into laughter. “You mean the Grandmaster? Dulcimer Heartstrings? He is no stallion. He is no longer mortal in any sense of the word. If my body is inadequate for you, his will be no better.”

“Then I have no purpose in being here.” She turned to Flock, who recoiled. “And you lied to me.”

“How was I supposed to know she resorted to transplantation?”

“It doesn’t matter!” cried Daring Do. She took a deep breath and stepped in front of Scarlet Mist, knowing that it put her directly in the path of any spells that Carillon could summon.

“You’re not supposed to be here.”

“But I am here. And we’re trying to help.”

“Help? And what do you think you can do that would be any help to me? You’ve already taken too much of my time!” She pointed behind herself. “We’ve lost containment, lost contact- -and she’s taken more than eighty percent of my synthetics!”

“You mean your children.”

“If they were willing to betray me this easily, they are no children of mine.”

“Even your assistant?” asked Softwings. “The one with the special eye? The one you gave him for his first birthday?”

Carillon faltered. She shook her head. “I can’t save him,” she said. “The best I can do is hold the line. Keep it from expanding.”

“We have a way to shut it down.”

“It’s not possible to shut it down. You won’t even be able to get close to the core.”

“To Absence,” said Rainbow Dash.

Carillon seemed to falter once again. “To Absence.”

“Carillon,” said Daring Do. “I know we’re not on the same side. But we want the same thing. You’re a Questlord. Your mission is to protect Equestria, isn’t it?”

She could not meet Daring Do’s eye. “Ostensibly. But…”

“Then that’s what you need to do. If that thing goes up, everything’s over. Your Order, the Questlords, Celestia- -none of it matters. Please. You have to let us try.”

“It’s my responsibility. I completed this machine. I gave birth to her, made her the vessel. This isn’t your fight.”

From behind Daring Do, White stepped forward. Daring Do was about to stop her, but she White looked to her. Although White only had one borrowed eye, Daring Do still saw the expression within it, and she understood. She allowed White to pass.

Carillon immediately raised her horn. “Stay away from me.”

White did not listen. She walked right up to Carillon- -and hugged her.

Carillon seemed greatly taken aback, and did not react at first. Then, slowly, she put one of her white hooves around White’s body. Her projected armor flickered and went out.

“It’s my fault,” she said, more to herself or to White than any of the others. “All of this. I didn’t listen to what I should have known. And now it’s all my fault.”
 

Chapter 78: The Final Charge

Carillon entered the room with an unmatched air of authority. Her armor was mostly lost, her magic was rapidly depleting, and the battle was doomed for failure- -but she was a knight, and she had a duty to perform. The few white Pegasi present- -many of them in their own battered armor, and many sporting recently bandaged injuries- -eyed her visitors somewhat suspiciously, but when they saw that Carillon had accepted them they accepted them as well. A few even recognized their sisters amongst the group, and some hope returned to them, even as they spoke amongst themselves in hushed whispers.

One of the Pegasi approached Carillon. She was apparently functioning as a ranking officer, and she was dressed in silver power-armor that although largely undamaged showed several deep gouges carved into the sides. She looked nearly identical to White and the rest of the clones, save for the fact that her wings were badly atrophied. Daring Do guessed that she had never once flown, nor would she ever.

“Report,” ordered Carillon, not looking at the girl.

The Pegasus nodded, not bothering to perform a complete salute. “Technical crews four, eight, and twelve have successfully installed the dampeners as per your request. Groups three, six, and nine reached their secondary objectives but were turned back with heavy injuries.”

“And the rest?”

“They failed.”

Carillon frowned deeply, but allowed the Pegasus to continue.

“We have driven back the rogue AIs in the southern wing, but infiltrators have stripped communications equipment during the counterattack to the east.”

“And the gestations bays?”

“We can’t reach them. Nor do we have soldiers stationed there. There were none to spare.”

“Then they’re defenseless.”

“No they aren’t,” said Daring Do. “Some of the clones are already hatching. We saw a few on the way in.”

“They’re not clones,” snapped Carillon. Still, her eyes widened in amazement. “Hatching? That’s not possible.”

“We saw what we saw. They’re trying to divert power to save the others.”

“Grand Seneschal,” said the Pegasus with the atrophied wings, “that means we have time. We can save the unborn.”

“If we could reach them.”

“We already issued the order,” said Softwings.

“You don’t have the authority,” said the other Pegasus in awe.

“I don’t care. I did it anyway.”

Carillon’s horn glowed, and a translucent square plate appeared beside her face. She moved several of the units on it, changing the orders included within. “I’m sending the AIs I can to secure the retreat, but it’s not much. That’s all I can do without leaving our flank exposed.” She closed the interface and looked up. “And the Grandmaster?”

The Pegasus shook her head. “He breached the primary barrier, but we lost contact.”

Carillon swore, using a word that was especially aggressive and that did not belong in the normal vocabulary of ponies. Even Rainbow Dash winced.

“How bad is it?” asked Daring Do.

“Bad,” replied Carillon. “It’s using the Necroforge, or whatever it turned it into. There’s a powerful sheild around it. Too powerful for me to get into…but it lets things out.”

“What kind of things?” asked Rainbow Dash, gripping her spear.

“Rogue AIs.”

“Because they got hacked,” laughed Flock. “Which is what you deserve for using golems instead of slaves.”

“The slaves were incompetent and liable to rebel. Or grow up to be rival knights. And you are clearly a fool. AI’s cannot be hacked. They made a conscious choice. The wrong one, of course.”

“And I suppose you have a plan?” asked Caballeron. He was keeping his distance from Carillon, eyeing her more suspiciously than the others were. “Unless you intend to wait here until the end? Contemplating your navels, perhaps?”

“I’m doing what I can!” snapped Carillon. “But the best I can do with what I have is to reinforce the shields that are keeping this whole place from going up in a phase-cascade schism. I’ve sent soldiers in, but they…” She trailed off and her expression grew grim. “That traitor is in there. Waiting for them.”

“What traitor?”

“Never mind, you’ll see soon enough.” Carillon paused, looking out at the landscape before her. Her soldiers had assembled makeshift defensive positions being a combination of rubble and portable defense fields, pointing what weapons they had at the gaps that led into something different, an area where the stone was completely reconfigured. It was not simply overgrown, but it had been rebuilt. Daring Do shivered, because as badly distorted as it was, she recognized the artificial sensibilities. In her dreams, a much more even form had filled the ruins of ancient towers overgrown with living crystal.

“What do you need from me?” she asked, finally. “What can I do to end this?”

“We need to get Rainbow Dash close enough to Absence to use the Spear. That’s the only way to shut it down.”

“My units are in there. I think…no. I know that they’re infected too. Dark wizard. Will this save them?”

“I don’t know,” replied Flock. “But I know that if the vandrare manifests, nothing will save them at all. They will be the ones who carry the disease to the rest of the planet.”

“Right, then.” Carillon stepped forward and raised her voice. “Children!”

The Pegasi all looked to her, mostly in awe. Daring Do recognized the looks in their faces. Many of them were not meant to be soldiers; they were not born as strong or intelligent or as solidly enhanced as their siblings. They were afraid. Yet when they looked to Carillon, Daring Do saw trust in their eyes. They loved her deeply, whether because of their programming or because of some other reason that was less easy to quantify.

Daring Do noticed this, and also the fact that it seemed to make Scarlet Mist deeply uncomfortable.

“Children,” repeated Carillon. “We’ve reached a solution. We have one last chance. To fail here is to fail the Order, and Equestria as a whole. You are my soldiers, my literal flesh. I need you now more than I ever had.”

“What are your orders, mother?” asked the one with atrophied wings, speaking for the remainder.

Carillon took a deep breath. “We will concentrate all of our forces into a single attack down one of the ventilation channels. We will cut a hole. Just wide enough to provide cover to this pony.” She gestured to Rainbow Dash. “And she will shut down the reactor.”

One of the younger, thinner Pegasi raised a hoof. “But what of our brothers and sisters? And of our eldest sister?”

“They will hopefully be freed. But not Absence. She will unfortunately be forced to atone for my failure. Though the Heartstrings bloodline ends with me, for my remaining years she will be treated as a hero amongst our greatest ancestors. And all of you will be remembered alongside her.”

The Pegasi nodded gravely. They understood. None of them had ever been taught it specifically, yet they had always known. They were expendable. They existed so that precious unicorns would not be lost in battles like this. What Carillon had said, though, steeled their hearts. For the first time that any of them could remember- -especially them, the defective and deformed failures- -being included as part of the sacred bloodline. And each and every one of them would do what they could to earn their own tiny place within it.

For a moment, it looked like they might have a chance. Then came the screams.

The ponies immediately turned to their guns and their weapons, preparing for defense- -but they recognized the screams. Even White and Softwings did. They were the screams of their siblings.

White ponies poured out of the opening. Those that could still walk and run were dragging wounded, although few were escaping unscathed. Daring Do had to turn away, but Rainbow Dash did not. She was brave enough to look, but would much later wish she had not. Had these ponies not been enhanced, there would be little chance that they would be escaping under their own power at all.

“They’re coming!” cried the small stallion in the front of the pack. “Mother! They are coming!”

“Who?” demanded Carillon.

“Our brothers and sisters!”

Then they came. Behind the wounded, trailing them rapidly, was an army. Their eyes reflected silver in the dim light, but they were red- -red and empty. Their faces held no expression. They were pale and perfect, moving rapidly under the orders of something unseen but felt by all. Amongst them were drones, and behind them AIs.

Then, further behind them, something large approached, its hooves beating out a slow and uneven cadence on the stone floor. An enormous silver Pegasus appeared behind the clones. Solum finis looked out over the soon-to-be battlefield, smiling.

“Defensive positions!” screamed Carillon, herself charging into battle as her armor ignited with orange light. The other ponies responded to her orders, reaching for their guns and their blades- -but they stopped. Their hooves were shaking, and they did not seem to be able to find the triggers. Daring Do understood why, and perhaps Carillon did as well. They could not bear to fight their brothers and sisters. They did not have it within them.

The opposing side, though, was not bound by the same hesitation. When they came into the light of bright spotlights, their infection became evident. Thin lines of metal had started to spread over their bodies, growing like webbing. Occasionally it dived down into them, reaching and improving the implants that Carillon had given them before birth. Some had even started to develop armor- -armor that looked horribly similar to that of the Hand of Doom itself.

“Do something!” cried Caballeron, kicking Scarlet Mist in the knee.

Scarlet Mist only stared down at him. “I could. But I only know how to do one thing. Are you sure you would like to pay that price?”

Caballeron opened his mouth to demand that she do so- -but found that he could not give the order. Even he, as hardened as he was, could not do that.

Carillon did not hear the exchange, but she saw that her soldiers- -her children- -refused to fight. She understood why. She had built them that way. Her design had capitalized on their sense of love, belonging, comradery. It had been the easier to manipulate. Except that it was not entirely artificial. She saw this, almost in slow motion as she passed them. Perhaps they were not wrong. In her youth, when she had been their age, she had held the same expression on her face when Dulcimer Heartstrings had first asked her to turn against her knight-brothers and knight-sisters, as was her bloodline’s destiny. She had been swayed, and she had done horrible things- -but perhaps her creations were superior to her in that they would rather meet their end than give in to the violence that had been meant to rule their lives.

She turned her attention toward the oncoming horde. Unlike her children, she was able to do what needed to be done. She had done it countless times, quietly and with ostensible scientific order. Now, though, she did not have that luxury. Carillon charged her horn and prepared to win the battle.

Then one pony emerged before her. One whose one artificial eye had begun to overgrow his face, driven outward by metastatic lines of silvery wire and quasi-organic growths. For the first time, she felt herself falter.

He took advantage of her weakness. He charged, gnashing his teeth. Carillon stopped, her hooves skidding across the stone, and she understood. This was not their choice. They were not traitors. They, like Absence, were trapped. Perhaps in a great deal of pain, although they did not know it. Perhaps that stallion was trying his hardest to resist, but failing nonetheless. Perhaps they all were.

In that instant she realized that she could not destroy them. She simply was not able to. At the same time, she could not allow her children to be hurt- -not those on her side, or the other. Yet the battle had to be won. There was only one solution.

Her mind began compiling, and has her son lunged toward her with a mouth full of metallic teeth, she activated the spell. A shockwave of orange light spread outward from her horn, filling the entire room with its glow. In an instant, every white Pegasus stopped moving. Those who had begun to cower from the oncoming attack, holding each other in fear; those who stood, accepting their fate but refusing to fight; they stood beside those who attempted to rush to the aid of their mother as well as those attacking against their own volition. All her children save for two were trapped in the field and rendered unable to move.

Carillon groaned under the strain. “Pegasus!” she ordered. “You have to go now! I can hold them- -but not forever! Something inside them is resisting me! I already sent my AIs to cover the retreat, I can’t- -”

“Don’t worry!” called Daring Do, running past her. “We’re on it!”

It seemed that she spoke too soon. Before she could even get past the frozen horde, she saw Solum Finis’s eye slowly turn. Then she saw him move.

He was trapped in Carillon’s field, as were the attacking AIs and drones- -but it had only managed to slow him. For a moment his metallic flesh groaned against Carillon’s magic, and then he tore free. The magic tried to cling to him, to pull him back, but it could not. His silver body was immune to it.

“Magic,” he said. His voice was saturated with disgust, yet he still smiled. “Of course you would use magic.”

He began to advance, and in an instant Scarlet Mist stood in his path, her body swathed in her characteristic fog. Her gnarled horn ignited with red light, and she attacked. This time, she had not hesitated or asked who was willing to pay the price. Her soul- -if she even had one- -was incapable of comprehending such a burden, and she had elected to behave proactively.

A crushing blow of red magic struck Solum Finis, tearing into his body and seeking out the parts of it that were already damaged. He took a step back- -but retreated no further. Then he looked up, and even as red magic was arcing through the ruined remains of half his face, he smiled again.

His wings extended suddenly, tearing several drones in half and cutting deep gouges into the walls. The red magic suddenly arced off his body toward everything in range. Daring Do ducked but could not escape; she only avoided an impact by blocking with the whip of Moloch, which, like Solum Finis, was immune to magic. Rainbow Dash, who was relatively near, did not even need to block. The Spear of Extinction absorbed the outgoing energy harmlessly.

Scarlet Mist had not expected this. The feedback caused her to collapse suddenly, and Solum Finis lurched forward. Despite his size and age, he was incredibly fast. He turned fluidly and bucked Scarlet Mist in the chest, sending her flying backward.

“NO!” cried Caballeron, grabbing her out of the air as they were both pushed back all the way to where Carillon was standing.

“Of course it would be magic,” said Solum Finis. He was nearly laughing, and sounded as calm as ever- -but his voice lacked something. Something inside him was gone. “The trihorns thought the same way. It never occurred to them. That our bodies evolved to resist it. How many wars did I fight against them? How many fell in the name of the Golden Lord? And in all that time, they never learned.”

He advanced, his one eye planted on Carillon. Daring Do blocked his path.

“Stop. Solum, stop.”

“No.”

“Don’t make us hurt you.”

He looked down at her. His smile faded. “You can’t. Even if you cold, it doesn’t matter. She rejected me. Two and a half million years, and she refused. But I will continue. I will continue my mission. I will protect the Hand.” He looked up at Carillon. “So I will squish you both. It should be fun.”

He raised his hoof over Daring Do and brought it down. Daring Do braced, but was suddenly pushed out of the way. She saw a flash of white feathers, and turned around just long enough to see White disappear beneath the hoof. She had been flattened.

“White!”

“Squish,” said Solum Finis, sounding more bored than anything else. He twisted his hoof, grinding White into the ground. Then he lifted it, only to see White very awkwardly flutter out from beneath it. She was dazed, but otherwise undamaged, despite the fact that the impact had been great enough to leave a vaguely White-shaped hole in the stone below.

“What?” Solum Finis seemed mildly confused. “Why are you so hard to squish?”

“Titanium bones!” cried Softwings, swooping from above. While White had distracted him, she had managed to get close enough to Solum Finis’s head to attack his eye. Unfortunatly, the lens was transparent silver; her attempt to break or scratch it were entirely useless. Solum Finis swatted her away, sending her careening into an AI. The impact caused it to vibrate, and suddenly it broke free from its suspension field. It began to move toward Carillon.

“Argiopé!” cried Caballeron, shaking Scarlet Mist. Her limbs hung at unfortunate angles, and she was not moving. “Come on! Wake up! That’s an order!”

When she did not, he looked at the advancing AI, and came to the conclusion that it was not after him. Just Carillon. So he had time. He reached for the Masque- -only to have his hoof grasped by red magic.

“I think I like this body,” said Scarlet Mist, rising up as if pulled on strings. Her limbs restored their normal structure. “It regenerates so quickly. Perhaps I will try another of this time, eventually.” She turned toward the AI and shattered it. Unfortunatly for her, its central core was undamaged. It sent out a signal, and its drones began to start struggling against the stasis field.

“You had better know what you’re doing!” screamed Carillon. “I can’t hold them!”

Several of them broke free. Four of the first immediately fell to Zel’s spear as he moved through them, nearly dancing as he summoned spells of protection and power. They were not his goal, of course; Softwings had distracted Solum Finis long enough for him to target the area on his chest that was inexplicably crushed, where the tarnished metal was weakest.

With one last rapid, rhyming cry, Zel slipped forward past Solum Finis’s hooves and drove the spear into the creature’s chest- -only for the blade to simply rebound.

Solum Finis looked down at the zebra. He no longer looked mildly amused, or even bored.

“You look easier to squish,” he said. “But later. For now, go away.”

He flicked Zel, although to Zel, the effect was more like being slapped with a brick wall. He was thrown back a considerable distance, only managing to stop himself by digging his spear-blade into the ground in time to avoid an attack from several drones.

“My body is hypercrystalline silver,” explained Solum Finis, now smiling smugly. “Your society does not even have the capacity to understand. Nothing you can do, or make, or comprehend can hurt me. I am a god among- -”

Sweetie Drops appeared in an instant below him. Solum Finis barely had time to look down before she slashed upward. The hypercrystalline silver of her blade met his in a plume of multicolored sparks. His body crumpled to the ground, inert. A few seconds later, his head clanged to the floor alongside it.

For a moment, the head was still. Then its eye lolled, rolling in its socket to face Sweetie Drops. “Then it’s done,” he said. A smile crossed his face once more. This one was upside down, but for the first time truly sincere. “After all this time. Finally. Please, finish what you started. And use my body to make more of those swords.”

Sweetie Drops pointed the black sword at Solum Finis’s head. “Not likely,” she said. “At least not the finishing you off part. The Agency is going to want to have a word with you. For now, consider yourself under arrest.”

She then immediately parried a blow from one of the drones. Except that with her sword, she ended up cutting it in half- -and the drone behind it. Solum Finis was impressed, and silently acquiesced. As he was missing his body, he went back to sleep.

More of the AIs and drones began to free themselves. Some of the white Pegasi had also begun to struggle, but Carillon put everything she had into holding them still. She was visibly sweating and straining; keeping them this long was already far beyond what most unicorns would be able to withstand.

“DASH!” yelled Sweetie Drops. “We have to hold the line! Get to the core!”

“But- -”

“MOVE!” ordered Daring Do, slapping Rainbow Dash in the flank. “I’ll cover you!”

Rainbow Dash looked back to see the others fully invested in fighting- -save for Flock, who had become mysteriously absent as soon as any possibility of bodily harm had arisen.

She nodded, and her and Daring Do were off.

Chapter 79: A Visit

Light faded. Stone faded. Even the growths of organic machinery began to fade. They were dead. They had been dead for some time. The whole of the machine that had been built around the embryonic vandrare had died, as it had performed its function. Now all that was left had the dull gray consistency of aged trash, and in some places looked like it too, where fragments of older, well-thought-out devices and forms had been imbedded in a matrix that was anything but haphazard.

“This place is a maze,” said Rainbow Dash.

“It had better not be! They’re tedious and we DON’T have time for that!”

“It is not a maze,” said a voice.

Absence appeared beside Rainbow Dash. Rainbow Dash cried out and jumped back. For one moment, there had been nothing there but empty space- -and then a white Pegasus had materialized from nothing.

“ABSENCE!”

“In more ways than one,” said Daring Do. She pressed her hoof against the white pony, and it passed directly through. “It’s a hologram or a spell.”
“Perceptive,” said Absence. Her voice was airy and distant, and her eyes were blank. “But limited. This projection is something more. As you can see.” She tapped Daring Do’s shoulder, pushing her back slightly. The hoof was solid but very cold.

“Either way, we don’t have time for it.”

Daring Do forced Rainbow Dash along, even though the latter was lagging. Not that she needed to worry. As they ran, the projection- -or whatever it was- -trotted alongside them.

“I don’t understand what you are attempting to do,” she said at last. “You are minor parts of a process that was started eons before the birth of this universe, and that will continue for eons after. Insignificant, even.”

“I’m not insignificant- -” protested Rainbow Dash.

“She’s not real,” said Daring Do. “She’s just trying to mess with us.”

“I am real,” said Absence. “In a sense. I am the pony you knew. Or what remains of her. A tiny fragment, now running within a nearly complete mind. But her mind cannot render speech, nor can it comprehend spoken words. I suppose I am therefore serving as an interface.” She paused. “Just like the Exmoori mare.”

Daring Do shivered, and Absence smiled, even though she could not possibly have seen. But something else had.

“Absence,” Rainbow Dash slowed and addressed the projection. “Please. You have to listen to me, right now. You have to fight it. You have to.”

“Fight what?”

“Don’t joke about this!” screamed Rainbow Dash, suddenly absolutely serious. “I know you can do it! Come on, you have to get it out of you!”

A look of comprehension passed over Absence’s face. Daring Do had no idea how old she was; her age could be less than five years, or well over a century. For a moment, though, she just looked old. Old and extremely tired. “I was not designed to fight, Rainbow Dash.”

“But I’ve seen you do it!”

“Physically, yes. But that was something I learned. It was not my destiny. This is. To wield the Hand of Doom. Or be wielded by it. To be one with whatever it becomes.”

“That’s HORSE DUNG!” cried Rainbow Dash. She reached out and grabbed the projection by the shoulders. She did not phase through, but from the look on her face, Daring Do knew that Rainbow Dash realized just how cold and unpleasant touching the image was. Except that rather than recoil with disgust, Rainbow Dash’s face contorted with intense concern. “You don’t have to do what they tell you! You can be anything!”

“And could you NOT be, say, the Element of Loyalty? A Wonderbolt?” She paused. “A friend?”

“I chose those things!” argued Rainbow Dash. “Look me in the eye and tell me you chose this!”

Absence looked her in the eye, but did not speak. “I’m sorry, Rainbow Dash,” she said, her voice almost sounding normal. “This is the way it must be. It is too late for me. I will cease to be when she is born. Until then, I am bound to her. To her fate. And I accept that fact. But I wish it could have been different. Maybe we really could have been friends.”

“But we- -”

The projection vanished in an instant, and Rainbow Dash fell through the empty air and drifting ash where it had once been. She caught herself, but realized that she felt exceedingly cold. She was breathing hard; the dial in her chest was clicking rapidly.

“Rainbow- -”

“She’s still in there!” Rainbow Dash pounded her hoof against the uneven floor. “She’s still there! Celestia DARN it! How am I supposed to- -I can’t, not if she- -she’s still- -”

Daring Do put her hoof on Rainbow Dash’s shoulder. “I think she knows,” she said. “That’s what she was trying to say.”

“Wh…what?”

Daring Do nodded solemnly. “She knows what you’re trying to do, but the vandrare doesn’t. Either because it isn’t fully awake yet or maybe because it isn’t actually able to understand things like that, not without a brain to help it along.”

“But if she knows, then it knows. It’ll try to stop me.” Perversely, Rainbow Dash almost seemed to take comfort in that fact.

“Not if she’s preventing it from knowing. But if she is, it’s taking everything she has. We have to hurry. Please, Rainbow Dash.”

“But I can’t…”

“When have you ever said that?”

The tone in Daring Do’s voice was harsh, and Rainbow Dash looked up at her, shocked.

“When have I what?”

“You’re not a pony who says ‘can’t’. Since when do you make excuses? I didn’t think you did, or even knew how to.” Daring Do glared at her. “I’m starting to think you’re not the pony I thought you were. If you’re going to give up that easy, I was an idiot for taking you on a mission like this.”

Rainbow Dash frowned, her temper flaring. She stood up suddenly.

“I can. Of course I CAN. That’s what I’m afraid of. Isn’t that obvious? I mean, if you could do it, wouldn’t you?”

“If it meant saving Equestria? Without hesitation.”

Rainbow Dash glared at her for a moment, and then turned back to the path. “Then maybe you’re not the pony I thought you were either.”

Chapter 80: Ascension

Then, all at once, they came to the end. The termination; the nexus. The place where Absence was waiting for them, and where the vandrare was to be born. If it was able to see them, it did not seem to care. There was no field to block their path as Carillon’s soldiers had observed; the entirety of the machine that they had come to fight was now quite deceased.

Only the core remained. When Daring Do and Rainbow Dash reached it, they were forced to stop on the ledge of the chamber that it had generated for itself. Absence had carved away a sphere, although at one point it seemed as though it had contained inordinate quantities of strange, makeshift equipment. A few long arms of vicious surgical equipment were still protruding into the center of the sphere, but most of them had corroded away or been broken apart.

In fact, all of it was breaking down. Tremendous quantities of the machine were dissolving into long channels that seemed to drift through space. Their constituent components were being broken down into fundamental pieces, or perhaps even fundamental elements; they ran toward the center of the room and into Absence.

She was no longer a pony. She stood on two roughly digitigrade legs, and had two hands that were held at her side. One was the Hand of Doom; the other was an incomplete, skeletal thing that almost looked like it. The only part of her skin that was still visible was her head, put roughly where the vandrare’s head would eventually be, at the top of its form. She looked to Rainbow Dash as though she were being swallowed by metal and strange quasi-organic growths. Her eyes were wide and empty, but the eyes within them were mindlessly alert.

“Absence!” cried Rainbow Dash. Absence did not look toward them- -but the thing within her did.

Rainbow Dash hardly noticed. She extended her wings and flew toward the ledge that led to the center of the sphere- -but was stopped as the air in front of her suddenly rippled with orange light.

“OW! DANGIT!” Rainbow Dash pulled back, and the air continued to ripple. “Two-color Lyra was right, there IS a barrier thing!”

Daring Do put her hoof against it and watched it ripple again. “I don’t think this is her.”

As if to punctuate the truth of her assertion, Dulcimer- -or rather a copy of himself- -was thrown against his own shield spell and more or less splattered into small streaks of orange magic. Rainbow Dash cried out both from surprise and sudden nausea.

Daring Do suddenly understood what was happening, even if she could not see it completely. Exactly what Absence- -or what had once been Absence- -was standing on was not exactly clear. It looked something like a rock, but was smoother and less even. Some parts of its still connected to her spine by a system of flexible cables. What stood in the bottom of the sphere, though, was not lit. There was nothing but inky blackness; or, for all Daring Do knew, an actual black fluid.

If there was a surface, Dulcimer moved along it, travelling almost too fast to be seen. Several of him charged at once, each as fast as lightning and each dressed in full gold armor as well as elegant magical gear. All of them drew long, curved swords behind them, prepared to strike.

Just before they did, they merged into a single Dulcimer and attacked from behind. Absence lazily raised the Hand, and a pale green-colored shield spell appeared round her. It not only absorbed the impact from Dulcimer’s magical sword but destabilized it, causing a powerful feedback explosion.

By the time the wave hit, though, Dulcimer had already teleported. Absence lifted a finger, and Dulcimer reappeared- -across the sphere, nearly sixty feet away from her.

“Dulcimer!” cried Daring Do. Dulcimer looked at her and surprise- -and fear- -crossed his face. “Drop the shield! We have a way to stop her!”

“I can’t,” said Dulcimer. He spoke softly, but some spell made him intelligible nonetheless, even at a distance. “This is the last line of defense, the only thing keeping her contained- -if it falls, we lose everything.”

“You can’t fight her!” yelled Rainbow Dash. “Get out of there!”

“You do have that option,” said Absence. She had copied his spell- -or more appropriately, hijacked it. Or maybe it had been hers all along. She wanted Daring Do and Rainbow Dash to hear what she had to say. “Dulcimer Heartstrings. Turn away. Leave this place. Take what is left of your knights and depart from me. You will persist, perhaps until her mission is complete and beyond. Stay here and there is only one outcome.”

“And let you lay waste to Equestria?”

Dulcimer fired a spell form his horn. Even through the shield, Daring Do could feel the heat. The spell rendered as a system of beams that spiraled in every direction before hardening into razor-like blades. One of them struck Absence in the shoulder. The rest stopped inches from her, held in place by whatever hideous arcane magic the Hand of Doom still remembered. Then, in an instant, she absorbed them, just as she was absorbing matter from the machines around her. The one in her shoulder left a gaping hole- -a hole not in her own body, but in the machinery that surrounded her. Within less than a second it had healed entirely.

“Is this not your wish?” she asked, even as Dulcimer teleported behind her and struck with a powerful beam that she once again deflected apathetically. “To upturn the ruling powers of the Equestria? For a new ruler to defy the eternal alicorns? Or did you actually believe the nonsense you taught us about hierarchies and rights to rule?”

“Replacing one god with another is pointless!” cried Dulcimer. He slowed, but was not out of breath. In fact, Daring Do did not see him breathing at all.

Absence turned to face him. “If you believe her to be a god, you misunderstand her role. Regardless, that is the world you chose. Where immortals devour immortals in an endless line of succession.”

“Ponies are meant to rule themselves!”

“So you aimed to create chaos that would give rise to tyrants as often as golden queens. You sold yourself to an ideal rather than to your Code. Who are you protecting?” A thin smile crossed her face. “Or have you forgotten the face of your mother that badly?”

Dulcimer’s face contorted with rage but he did not lose composure. Daring Do, oddly enough, understood. Wizard battles were mostly talk as one party waited for the other to either lose focus or attack. Yet Absence seemed incapable of the former and unwilling to do the latter. Daring Do did not understand why.

Slowly, though, it occurred to her. The vandrare was not sentient, at least not in a way that ponies could comprehend. It did not see a need to bother with Dulcimer. It considered him too insignificant.

“I created this mess,” said Dulcimer. “I’m sorry. But I’m going to end it.”

Absence only stared, and then laughed softly.

Dulcimer closed his eyes. The glowing armor that surrounded his body suddenly vanished, but at the same time, the shield surrounding the center of the room grew thicker and deeper in color until it was almost opaque.

Daring Do suddenly ran forward and pounded on it. “NO!” she cried. “Dulcimer! STOP!”

“I designed this spell to eliminate Celestia herself,” he said. “I had a long time to think about it, but I decided I could never bear to tread that path. I wanted the violence to stop, the war to stop. But I suppose I don’t have that luxury, do I?”

“Both of those will be accomplished when the vandrare awakens,” said Absence, softly. “There will be nothing left but ash and THE CREATOR.”

The whole sphere suddenly shook, nearly toppling Daring Do over. Rainbow Dash caught her. Dulcimer’s horn ignited with light that was no longer orange but pure white. Even through the shields, Daring Do could feel the radiation.

In her life- -which she considered relatively long, especially in her line of work- -she had met many mages. Most- -or at least the most pompous or the most powerful- -were unicorns. In that time of knowing many wizards, sorcerers, and magicians, Daring Do had found that unicorns tended to gain power as they aged. It was probably a matter of both experience and biology, and she had never bothered to consider what proportion the two might exist in.

Carillon was far older than any normal unicorn, and she was just over five hundred. Scarlet Mist, though not a unicorn, was at least eleven centuries old. Dulcimer’s age was nearly ten times that.

The magnitude of the spell corresponded quite well with his age. Daring Do almost had to duck and cover her head from the force of the radiation as the whole of the sphere filled with blinding white light. All of it centered around a sphere of pure energy projected around the end of Dulcimer’s horn, roughly the size of his own body. It was a tiny, nascent star.

The flame of the orb arced outward in vast prominences, screeching with energy. Absence stared at it blankly. Perhaps she no longer cared. Rainbow Dash, though, did. When she saw this spell, she did not know how to feel. Her first odd, strange thought was that Twilight would be really, really impressed. That was just a cover, though, for the conflicting emotions beneath: that if a spell like this worked, she would not need to use the Spear- -but that Absence would meet the same fate either way. The thought of it made her excited, and that excitement in turn made her feel exceedingly guilty.

Then, all at once, Dulcimer released the spell. It shot through the air in a single beam, followed by a plume of violent fire. It was not unlike an unfathomably more powerful version of the spell that Carillon had used against Scarlet Mist.

Absence did not dodge, because from the moment the spell had begun the thing inside her had understood it. Although it could not speak, and its only thoughts revolved around hunger and perverse enjoyment of destruction- -and of course the horrible black thing that even at that very moment loomed over them all- -it understood magic. It had already comprehended the spell, and knew that reacting with a counterpsell was pointless. The outcome was already preordained.

So instead she simply raised the Hand of Doom. As the spell reached her, she extended its pointed index finger. The entire force of the spell suddenly concentrated at that point- -and did not go an inch farther.

Dulcimer saw this, and realized what was occurring- -but only partially. He, like the thing that would become a vandrare, understood magic as well- -but not nearly as completely. If age correlated to a wizard’s power, then Dulcimer’s nine millennia were nearly infinitesimal in comparison to the uncountable years that the vandrare- -and the identical vandrare before it, and the one before that, and so on, all of them forged from races and species that had since become quite extinct- -had existed.

So Dulcimer increased the amount of magic in his spell, focusing it and refining it. He adapted and changed it, modulating it to the possible spells that his opponent was using to block it. All of it predicated on the assumption that it took equivalent force for Absence to stop the spell. It never occurred to him that Absence was not stopping it at all.

Rainbow Dash stared at Daring Do, wide eyed. “Didn’t Flock say that it ABSORBS magic?”

“Yeah,” said daring Do, her mouth suddenly dry and barely able to form words. “He did.”

Absence continued to stand. Dulcimer had begun to realize that something had gone horribly wrong. This spell had been designed to challenge a god, but whatever Absence was becoming was no god. It would never rule Equestria, because it had no need to. It likely could not even comprehend the need to rule.

But it was too late now. This was his only chance. There was no other way to stop it. He saw Daring Do behind him, and her Rainbow-maned not-daughter. Perhaps they had a plan, but, in Dulcimer’s mind, it could not possibly succeed. Not if even he could not defeat his own creation.

So he increased the power, giving it everything he had. The magic pouring from his horn expanded, but at the same time began to change colors. The orange became tinted with deep violet that swirled and glittered as it raced toward its target.

Absence felt the difference, but it was of no consequence. She smiled.

“Grandmaster,” she said. “It seems you’re run out of magic. You’re begun to draw directly from your phylactery. If you continue this spell, you will…” she purposely drew the pause before the last word out as long as she could. “…die.”

The shock struck Dulcimer like no spell or blow could. Fear crept into his resolve. The one fear that had always been his greatest weakness, and the one he had sacrificed so much to be able to escape. He realized that she was right, and in that moment of weakness, his spell faltered. It collapsed around him, taking the shield surrounding Absence around with it.

The floor below him was melted and charred, but somehow the room was completely and utterly silent. Absence lowered her finger, but not the Hand.

Dulcimer collapsed. Daring Do ran to him- -out of adventurer’s selflessness only; she did not particularly like him- -but Absence stopped her with a slight shake of her head. A motion exactly like the kind that White would sometimes make.

“What now?” asked Dulcimer, not looking up from the ground.

“She has not manifested. But she is already consuming mass. So you will become part of us no.”

Absence opened the Hand, as if reaching, and then turned it over. Space distorted over the tips of her fingers as she copied Dulcimer’s spell- -and improved it.

A tiny black sphere erupted over her hand- -and the whole world suddenly started moving.

Daring Do cried out as she was suddenly pulled forward. The floor- -or what passed for a floor, as it seemed to be largely a network of flat pieces of abandoned catwalk- -was oddly slick, and she began to slide.
The only thing that stopped her was Rainbow Dash’s quick reflexes. Rainbow Dash dropped from above, the tip of the Spear igniting as she stabbed it deep into the ground. She then wrapped her hoof around Daring Do, and Daring Do held on to her, even against the immense gravity-suction of Absence’s spell.

Dulcimer was not so lucky. He was closer to the event horizon, and the force on his body was exponentially greater. He cried out in surprise and dug his hooves into the ground. His horn flickered, but his magic had been entirely depleted from his last spell.

He looked up at Daring Do. She saw panic in his eyes, and he pleaded. “Please!” he wailed. “Please, save me! Don’t let me die, I’m not ready! All this time- -all this time and I’m still not ready to go!”

Tears welled in his eyes, and Absence closed her fingers tighter around the black sphere. Dulcimer suddenly screamed. A hideous tearing sound filled the air as his skin ripped and was flayed from his body- -all while his hooves still held on.

Rainbow Dash immediately turned and spilled her oats, if only from the sound and from what she expected to see. Daring Do, though, stared transfixed and fascinated. Perhaps she had known it on some level, although not consciously. How he had been strong enough to fight Sweetie Drops even without his power-armor, or how he had managed to live so much longer than any unicorn could. Seeing him without skin explained it all in one gruesome instant.

A metal hoof reached out and dug into the steel floor. Somehow, Dulcimer managed to progress forward, if only by an inch. Complex mechanisms stirred in his body and artificial muscles compressed and strained, dragging him forward. The parts of his body that were not exposed were plated in thin mithril armor, but even that was being pulled away by the force of the spell.

A strange connection formed in Daring Do’s mind. As she watched the pony-shaped machine- -a relic from a bygone age, infinitely more advanced than the modern robots and AIs that even the greatest Questlords could hope to assemble- -she could not help but think of Fuzzypoof. Except that where Fuzzypoof had at least maintained some aspect of her organic being, Dulcimer had failed at even that. Every part of him that had made him a pony had been replaced, until all that remained was the thing on the floor slowly crawling toward Daring Do even as its body was torn apart from behind.

Yet the eyes were the same. They were artificial, of course, perhaps being carved from two single pieces of flawless carnelian or some other gemstone- -but they were expressive to the point where it was impossible to tell. They stared up at Daring Do, pleading.

“Please,” he begged. His skinless robotic mouth was a mass of moving mechanisms and teeth, at once horrid and mesmerizing. Slowly, he managed to extend one robotic hoof. By this time, most of the lower half of his body had been decomposed into individual parts that followed several streams back to Absence. He reached out toward Daring Do, but she could not reach back. She knew what he was.

The fear did not leave his eyes, but something inside them understood. They fell as his hope was crushed. By this time the decay reached up to his chest.

“You’re right,” he said. “I suppose it’s better this way. Nine thousand years, and I wasted it. But it was too long. I really did forget her, and what it all meant.” He looked up at Daring Do. “I’m sorry.”

Before Rainbow Dash could stop him, he released himself. His body instantly broke into thousands of fragments, and Daring Do watched as he was torn asunder.

Until she saw it.

A single large piece, just smaller than a pony’s head. A large, dark mechanism, marked by a single large, violet crystal. Even as the numerous cables that were connected to it were torn away and torn apart, that part remained stable, refusing to break down even in response to the devastating spell.

Daring Do did not hesitate. She did not even think. Her hoof dropped to her side and she drew her whip. It snapped outward in a wide arc, flying into the field. Immediately she felt the pull, as though it had suddenly grown in weight by several hundred pounds- -but the spell could not destroy it, and even the force of the spell’s gravity was lessened. The whip, after all, was from Flock’s collection; it was immune to magic.

For a moment, though, she was not sure if the end would reach its target in time. There was only one chance, and if she missed, Dulcimer would be gone for good. Even though the weight of the whip, though, she felt the end suddenly wrap around something, and she felt the sudden weight. It had snagged the piece with the crystal.

She pulled. Even without being asked, Rainbow Dash pulled two. The weight was immense. Had it been anything larger, they both would have been pulled in along with it. Hauling Dulcimer out whole would have been an impossible task even for fifty ponies, let alone two. But only that one piece really mattered.

They tugged and pulled, and in an instant it suddenly gave way. The piece came flying toward them, just as the spell behind it collapsed. Daring Do caught it and was nearly knocked over by the force. The violet crystal felt warm in her hooves, and seemed to vibrate with energy. She had seen this type of magic only twice before, and twice before she had been forced to shatter crystals exactly like this.

Rainbow Dash stood back, both from exhaustion and from an instinctive repulsion from the crystal. The amulet on her neck seemed to agree with her.

“Wh- -what is that?”

“His phylactery.”

“His what?!”

“Phylactery. He was a lich. Is a lich. A technolich.” She looked up at Rainbow Dash. “Wasn’t it obvious?”

“Um…”

“So he survived,” said Absence. “How nice. But in all honesty you should have let me consume him. He cursed with eternal un-life. I’m told it’s an agonizing state of being.”

Rainbow Dash straightened herself. She pulled the tip of the Spear out of the ground and held it out. The glow faded and vanished, and the end snapped closed.

“Absence,” she said. “I won’t let you hurt ponies. I just can’t.”

“Then you’ve misunderstood my role, Rainbow Dash. Or do you think I want this? Never mind. It does not matter, anyway. His magic provided her with enough fuel to begin the genesis. In less than a minute, I will no longer exist.” She paused, and her voice lost its airy, arrogant tone. “But,” she wavered. “Please. Please listen. My warning still applies. She holds no grudge against ponies. Leave. Run. Hide, in the farthest reaches of Equestria. Do that and you might be safe.”

“And the ponies who don’t run and hide?”

Absence did not answer. Rainbow Dash took that as the only answer she needed.

She held the Spear, and moved her hooves across the hilt, just like she had seen Commander Hurricane do in her visions.

“I’m sorry, Absence,” she said. She sniffled slightly, but did not care if it was embarrassing or not. She wished this could be as epic as it always was in her fantasies. Instead, it just made her feel terrible. “But I have to do this.”

Absence once again did not answered. Rainbow Dash took a deep breath, and the dial in her chest clicked. Then it began.

To Daring Do- -or to any outside observer- -the entire fight seemed to take the barest fraction of a second. To both Rainbow Dash and Absence, though, it seemed to drag on for far longer. Minutes, hours, or even more than that; it was impossible to tell. At that speed, time tended to lose both its meaning and its significance.

Rainbow Dash shot forward, the Spear of Extinction igniting white in her grasp. It almost seemed to be pulling her along, driving her. She could feel its strength inside her, powering her wings to force herself forward through the air like a rainbow-tinged bolt of lightning.

Absence, of course, perceived this. What little of her brain remained was that of a Pegasus, and one that had been perfectly crafted for genetic perfection. Even without the forming vandrare in her head, she was able to see Rainbow Dash coming.

She raised the Hand, drawing on the internal magic and technology that hummed within it. The matter she had absorbed manifested again. At first, it was only pieces; random bits of metal and wood that had not yet been converted into whatever they were meant to become. Rainbow Dash twisted and rolled, dodging these with surprising ease. Deep down, Absence was not only impressed but in awe. No pony she had ever seen could fly like that; even she, with all her training, could not.

Yet Rainbow Dash had to be stopped. The Hand willed it. So it responded, almost on instinct- -or perhaps as a result of a thought process that had become so advanced it was indiscernible from a mindless, reflexive response.

The spell condensed, and the matter changed, transfigured into something more. The junk made of steel and copper merged and converted, forming slabs of unbreakable metal far harder than diamonds. With a cry, Rainbow Dash raised her Spear. The blazing tip sliced through the blocks as if they were made of soapstone. The vandrare did not comprehend. Absence would not let it.

It still reacted, though. Perhaps still only instinctually, yet a strange thought came to her mind, one that made little sense. She saw a crystal tree, one that could neither be approached nor defeated as evidenced by countless eons in an unending cycle- -a tree that screamed in pain and impossibility as its body was hacked apart by alien picks.

The vandrare summoned a different spell. Several domes formed around Absence. She was not a mage and did not fully comprehend the magic that formed them, but knew that it was complicated, far more than a normal pony would be able to summon. Far more than anything at all should have been able to summon.

Performing the spells necessary to break the shields should have taken millennia- -but the spear that Rainbow Dash held was not quite magic. It operated on the same principals, but was something else entirely, constructed by an Exmoor pony who had thought that unicorn magic was pointless and obtuse. Rainbow Dash might have agreed, if only in action: she pointed the Spear forward and cut her way through the shields, shattering each one as she passed.

It slowed her down, and some of the later ones nearly stopped her. The Hand raised, preparing an attack- -something that was oddly difficult for it, as contrary to its appearance the being it would become was highly unfamiliar with combat of any kind- -but Rainbow Dash pushed forward, breaking through the last of the shields with a roar.

Another spell immediately activated, a byproduct of the magic used to produce the final shield. The feedback of it failing created several chaotic eddy currents, which manifested as a sudden and powerful electrical storm. The wind buffeted Rainbow Dash hard, nearly knocking her off course. She struggled against it, but the wind was too inconsistent. It only grabbed her wings and twisted her, driving her sideways and off course. She was losing momentum rapidly.

Strangely, though, it felt familiar- -and suddenly Rainbow Dash remembered why. She almost laughed, or would have if she had time. She pulled her wings tight against her body, giving one final thrust. Outside, a sonic rainboom had just occurred, although Rainbow Dash was concentrating too hard to notice.

The end of the Spear was now feet from its target. The vandrare had reacted, and the Hand had raised itself, intending to grab the Spear. It was moving far faster than any being with normal reflexes would ever be able to move, but the gesture was pointless. Both of them knew that Rainbow Dash was too fast, that by the time it reached her she would have already met her mark.

Absence stared up at her. Their eyes met, and for a moment Rainbow Dash could see the pony within. A pony who was seconds away from being consumed entirely. Absence neither smiled nor frowned. She simply closed her eyes. She had known exactly how this would end, and what was coming- -and she had accepted it.

Rainbow Dash closed her eyes too. She could not bear to watch.

Once again, Rainbow Dash stood on the western peak of Lyskymm. Except that the ruins that stood at her back, though empty, had only begun their long decline. Had she chosen to look inside them- -something she for some reason could not even bear the thought of- -there would still be plates set out at tables, neatly-made beds, and perhaps some meager food hidden away from when the cold-famine still raged.

The time was different, as was the pony. Though she was Rainbow Dash, she was also named Hurricane. Both were linked, by a gene passed down for millennia as well as the Spear that they both held: Hurricane as she ascended the steps, knowing what was waiting for her, and Rainbow Dash as she lunged toward Absence, knowing equally well what had to happen.

Commander Hurricane reached the top. Before her was a wide courtyard, one that had once been carved beautifully from stone but that was now covered in ice and piles of snow. It was a somber sight to see it like this, and she knew that this was how it would remain for time immemorial. Its beauty had departed with the Empire, and the world had moved on.

A pony was waiting for her. He stood amongst the snow and ice, and for a moment both Hurricane and Rainbow Dash were struck by how similar he looked to it. His shaggy coat was the palest blue, like crystalline, glacial ice. Had it not been for the dark Pegasus armor he wore, it might have been impossible to see him against the backdrop. He did not even look cold.

Hurricane approached him. His intense violet eyes followed her, and she saw that he had a sword scabbard at his side. She also noticed the necklace he wore: a simple piece of tight twine that held a large star-sapphire which had somehow been imbedded into the metal of a single, exceedingly complicated gear. Daring Do did not know what the gear was from, or what the strange white metal it was forged from was called. She had never felt a need to ask, but right now wondered intensely- -because if she did not ask now, her chance to know would be gone forever.

“Commander,” he said, saluting slowly. Hurricane did not know how to feel about that, whether she should be proud that he still showed her that simple respect- -or if one of her closest friends would still bother to be so formal, even when no ponies save for simpleminded demi-peasants were around for hundreds of miles.

“Gigantes,” she said. The name was ironic. It was meant to be. He was nearly a head shorter than her, and she herself- -despite her best attempts to act otherwise- -was not a tall pony. She immediately recalled the negotiations with the unicorns, and how inferior she had felt having to look upward to see into Princess Platinum’s smug face. She wondered if that was how Gigantes had felt, even though he never gave any indication of it.

“The treaty?” he asked.

Hurricane felt her anger flare. History might someday recall the Unification as the most important thing she had ever done, but in this moment, it was the most inconsequential thing she could have imagined. Worse, she could tell that he already knew the answer.

“It is done.”

“I see.” He spoke with a strange accent, one that neither Rainbow Dash nor Hurricane would ever be able to replicate even if they tried. “So it is codified. The three Loyal Races, now together under the eternal stewardship of Celestia’s divine rule.”

Rainbow Dash was surprised at his relative eloquence and his oddly high voice, especially considering how he almost looked like a cavepony- -or, for all she knew, he might have BEEN a cavepony- -but Hurricane was not. In her mind, he was one bony protrusion away from being the world’s strongest unicorn.

“Why are we here, Gigantes? Why Lyskymm?”

Gigantes paused, and looked out over the abandoned city. The city that had once been the capital of an empire that no longer existed. Commander Hurricane had killed it. “Because I loved this place. And I want to remember it. It ought to be here.”

“What?”

Gigantes turned to her, staring with his wide, violet eyes. Eyes that looked so very old. “You know I will never bow to her.”

“You don’t have to. There are provisions, I can negotiate. She’s a forgiving goddess- -”

She was interrupted not by a word or a glare, but by the look in his eyes.

“I am proof that what you say is a lie,” he said, slowly. “But I am glad. There will be peace, prosperity. Happiness. A beautiful world.”

“But no more good fights.”

“Which is good,” replied Gigantes, after a moment. He was silent, and Hurricane knew what was coming. “But,” he said, “this is a world that has moved beyond me.”

“Stop being melodramatic. I will make space for you. Gigantes, how many times have fought togather? How many times have we WON? Don’t bother subtracting, it’s the same number. You’ve been nothing but loyal to me, even after what I’ve had to do. And I’ll be loyal to you until the end.”

“Which is why you need to be here.” His eyes suddenly sharpened. “Because it is time.”

Something inside Hurricane’s chest clenched. She had known- -known for a long time- -but refused to let what she felt inside her gut reach her head, or more importantly her heart. “Time for retirement, you mean?”

Gigantes smiled. He actually thought the joke was funny. Sad, but funny nonetheless. “I suppose,” he said.

“Well you can’t. I haven’t dismissed you yet, and I don’t intend to. You’re still under my command, and I won’t tolerate insubordination. Now. Let’s get off this mountain. I honestly want to see how you managed to get this high without wings.” She laughed, trying not to cry. “I’m going to take you to the new capital, to Canterlot, and I’m going to parade you down the street with the rest of our friends and I’m going to see if I can get Platinum to faint. Come on. It’ll be fun.”

Gigantes slowly shook his head. “No,” he said. “If you had truly intended that, you would not have brought my gift.”

Hurricane’s breath caught. She had, because she had known. Suddenly the Spear of Victory felt very heavy on her back. “But I gave you an order…”

“One I cannot follow.” Gigantes sighed. “Commander. Hurricane. Hurr. I’m old.”

“You’re not old. I beat you by ten years at least.”

Gigante’s eyes flashed. “You have to listen,” he said, calmly. “Because you have to understand. Yes. I look young. That is a gift from my mother. But I am a half-blood. My lifespan is long, but not eternal. I am truly very, very old. Old and tired.”

“Don’t say that. I won’t let you say that.”

“Hurr. The Forever-Sleep is calling me.”

Hurricane winced, her eyes scrunching closed. “Don’t say that!” she cried, causing her voice to echo off the stone of what had once been her greatest fortress. “After everything I did, after everything I just went through! After everything that’s about to happen, the world we’re about to have- -and you have to leave? NOW?!”

“My body is failing,” maintained Gigantes, this time more emphatically. “I already have the tumor-sickness. I can feel it moving through my body, taking everything away from me. Perhaps I would last another month. Or two. Or only a week.”

“The unicorns. They can heal you. Clover the Clever- -” Hurricane’s eyes lit up. “There’s a young mage, an upstart, the one who took the Crystal Citadel. Sombra. He can- -”

“No.” The word froze Hurricane to her core. Gigantes stared at her. “They cannot help me. Nor would I allow it.”

“Then what?!” screamed Hurricane. “What do you want me to do?!”

“You already know that. Soon, my body will be too weak to stand. Too weak to fight. I must take the forever-sleep and pass into eternal disgrace, as is the lot of all. But I must end in a single flash of honor, to light my path into infinite darkness.” He paused, and for the first time looked away from Hurricane. Out of shame. “I am the last,” he said. “The very last. It is my duty, to all of them. I cannot save them, or bring them back, but I can give them one last honor before we are extinct.”

“No. I refuse.”

Gigantes ignored her protest. “I am of Exmoor. I am a warrior, the last of my kind. And I must end the way I lived. As a warrior.”

Hurricane looked up at him. Tears were streaming down her face, but she did not care. Her entire legion could be standing behind her, and she would not have cared. If they did not understand, they were not worthy of serving her. “Why me? Of all the ponies, why me?!”

“Because there are none left of my kind to perform the ritual. And even at my end, there are still few if any ponies in this world who could succeed in the fight I require. You are the only one. The only one I trust with this task, and the only one strong enough to perform it.”

Hurricane looked at the ground. She could not have known that a thousand years later, one of her descendants would find herself in exactly the same position.

“I can’t.”

Gigantes laughed, softly. His voice rattled strangely, as if his lungs were failing him but that he refused to allow that to impede him in anyway. “That is the first time I have ever heard you say such a thing, Hurricane. Even when tasked with negotiating with Platinum and Pudding Head, you never once said you ‘can’t’.”

“That was easy compared to this.”

“You certainly can’t be afraid.”

“Afraid of losing?” Hurricane shook her head. “No. I never lose. I’m afraid of winning.”

“But I am counting on it.” Gigantes’s expression changed. It became softer. “But…perhaps I really am asking too much. But I have to ask. Refuse me if you like, it is your choice. I will not begrudge you. Either way.”

Hurricane took a deep breath. She turned and looked out at Lyskamm. At what had once been a thriving and beloved city, before the creature that Gigantes called “sky-brothers” had arrived. They had taken everything. Yes, new things- - hopefully better things- -had arisen, but it still hurt to look at it. Looking at Gigantes hurt more, though.

She turned back to him. She stared into his eyes. They were violet. She had always found those eyes beautiful. The color was exceedingly rare in Pegasi.
“So,” she said, “this is how it has to be, then?”

Gigantes nodded. “Yes,” he said. “There is no alternative. Draw your spear, Hurricane. And if you can, strike me down.”

Hurricane sighed. She was weeping, but quietly, barely feeling it through her resolve- -and her unending loyalty.

“So be it.”

She drew the Spear. It hummed to life at her touch, the blade igniting white and then flaring with luminescent rainbows that matched her mane. She felt the rush of its energy flowing into her, and she lifted it.

Gigantes drew his sword. A simple, common earth-pony sword. Hurricane smiled, because of course that would be the weapon he chose.

She lunged, closing her eyes as she did. Then it was over. She landed on the icy stone behind Gigantes. He stood for a moment, and then fell. There was barely a sound. Just a light “pompf” of his fluff, and the clatter of his armor.

Then silence- -until it was rent by Hurricane’s screams and sobbing. This was a state that she would never have allowed her legions to see, let alone any pony- -save perhaps for Gigantes himself, who would have understood. Except there no longer was a Gigantes. There was no one to see her cry. She was all alone.

This continued until she was quieted by a sudden warmth. She looked out over the ruins of her destroyed city, toward the eastern peak. The sun was rising, illuminating her with tears and snot running down her face.

It came to greet the dawn of a new age- -and to look upon the final destruction of the one before it.

Rainbow Dash understood. She finally understood, and knew what needed to be done. She gripped the Spear of Extinction, the Spear that had never once betrayed a pony who trusted its master- -and changed her grip.

The white of the tip suddenly ignited, trailing a plume of glowing rainbow light. Rainbow Dash, likewise, felt as though she was glowing form inside. Energy was pouring into her, and back out again into the Spear. Her body and the Spear could both handle the force, but nothing else could. The vedmak amulet around her neck cracked and shattered, and the moonstone in the dial of her chest cracked and split. It stopped ticking, but it did not matter. The Spear had taken over its function, and Rainbow Dash could almost feel its creator watching her- -and she wondered if he would approve.

Her grip suddenly shifted on the Spear. She twisted in the air, and just as she reached Absence she slammed it upward with all her force. The blade screamed as it cut through metal, penetrating its true target.

Absence’s eyes went wide, and her mouth froze in a silent scream. She crumpled backward, pushed by the force of the impact. Rainbow Dash landed behind her, skidding to a stop and catching her as she fell.

Behind her, she heard the clank of something metal, and then silence. The sound of the Hand of Doom, now severed from Absence’s body, landing on the cold, hard stone of the floor below- -and then lying still.

“Absence! ABSENCE!”

Absence was not moving, and through all the metal that had overgrown her body it was impossible to tell if she was even breathing. Rainbow Dash began pushing on the metal, tearing it away. Doing so was surprisingly easy; with the connection to the Hand severed, the living technology had begun to die and collapse. It broke away like dry, ancient twigs.

“Absence, come on! Come ON!”

Absence- -now mostly freed from the metal that had overgrown her- -suddenly gasped. She opened her eyes, and they were her own. She cried out suddenly and felt over her body, feeling the metal that covered and integrated with her body- -and in the process completely removing the dry, lifeless steel that made up the rest of her left front leg. She did not even seem to notice, and in fact seemed to gladly tear it away as soon as she could get a grip over it, until all that was left was an empty space.

“What…where am I?” she looked up again, her and eyes widened. “Rainbow Dash!”

She suddenly leaned upward and hugged Rainbow Dash tight. It was a strange hug, because Absence only had one front leg and was exceedingly weak- -not to mention that Rainbow Dash was not normally the hugging type- -but she hugged back.

“I’m sorry,” sobbed Absence. “I’m sorry!”

“Come on, it’s not your fault. What counts is that you’re okay.”

A flutter of wings passed behind Rainbow Dash. Not large wings, like those of a Pegasus, but those of many small birds. Rainbow Dash turned her head, knowing that Flock had of course picked this time to come out of wherever he was hiding. She was preparing to brag to his face that she had found another way- -but then saw the expression on his face and her words caught in her throat. It was an expression of perfect, abject terror.

“You didn’t,” he whispered. Then, louder, as a shrill scream. “YOU DIDN’T!”

Chapter 81: Vandrare

“No!” snapped Rainbow Dash. She could not understand his reaction, why he seemed so afraid. She had won. The Hand had been defeated, and Absence was alive- -even though Flock had claimed that both would never be possible at once. “I didn’t! I found another way! Because no matter what, I can’t hurt a friend!”

“You abject IDIOTTT!” screamed Flock, his voice rising so high that it was no longer the shout of a pony but rather the high, terrified call of the crows that made up his body. “The Hand has already accumulated enough magic and material, plus a genetic signature, it- -”

His sentence stopped with a sudden squeak, and he took a step back. Rainbow Dash had not thought it possible, but the fear on his face had grown exponentially. She also saw that he was staring at something. Not at her or Absence, but at something behind them both.

Slowly, Rainbow Dash turned to look where she already knew that the Hand of Doom had fallen- -and she saw that it was no longer on the ground, but standing before them.

Segmented cables had emerged from its empty wrist, spreading outward and forming a network that had roughly taken the form of a body. They crawled over themselves like snakes, churning and aligning as the shadow of something terrible stood up, rising on two legs.

Then they hardened, fusing inward and burning away metal until all that was left was a thin framework. From this metal poured forth a white substance that grew around it, forming bone. Tissue then grew outward, but what type, Rainbow Dash did not know. She had seen diagrams of muscles, both in school and in Flock’s horrible book concerning the Hand- -something that now seemed all-too relevant- -but these were not normal muscles. They glinted with streams of strange metal, and the blood vessels that powered them did not pump blood but some strange, glittering black fluid.

It seemed to look at them as it completed itself- -or so Rainbow Dash thought. Skin formed, and a creature stood before them: a pale, thin, hairless creature. Its eyes were brown, and there was a thin fuzz of dark hair on its head. Perhaps this was its perfect state, or what the vandrares had once been.

Except that it lasted only for the briefest fraction of a second. Time and evolution had rendered that form pointless and obsolete. As Rainbow Dash watched, the pale skin became ashen, pallid, and finally leprous as if it were diseased. Its eyes faded from brown to milky, pale blue, and it was blind.

Strange things sprung from its ruined skin. Some seemed to be machines, but not like those that had covered Absence. Stronger, better ones. Others looked as though they were organic, but made from an entirely different form of life than the creature had been moments prior- -or in actuality several forms of life.

Technology began to overtake the creature as the body faded away, and this technology was in turn eaten away as strange, luminescent crystal began to grow from within it, creeping up the creature’s sides in perfect symmetry. Through the opening of its chest, Rainbow Dash saw the formation of a tiny crystal heart.

And she saw her chance. She once again grasped the Spear of Extinction, and she charged, once again at full speed, ignoring Flock’s protests. The Spear lit and she jabbed it forward, intending to ram it into that crystal heart.

Except that the Spear stopped. Rainbow Dash blinked. She had not seen the vandrare move, but it had. The Hand of Doom was now wrapped around the incandescent end of her spear, holding it.

Rainbow Dash cried out in anger and pushed- -but it did not budge. Her anger faded to surprise, and she saw that although the metal- -except it was not metal, it never had been, it was something else that ponies had no name for- -that made up the Hand was slowly glowing from the heat, but receiving no damage whatsoever.

Then, with one swift motion, the vandrare threw Rainbow Dash and the Spear back and away from it. As Rainbow Dash landed, she became aware of other ponies approaching. She was not sure what good they could do. It really had become unstoppable. In saving Absence, Rainbow Dash had ultimately failed to stop it.

“Scarlet! SCARLET!” cried Flock. “Time spell! TIME SPELL! NOW!!”

“I’m not a chronoplexer, I can’t- -”

“NOW!”

Scarlet Mist reached the vandrare. It was nearly complete. The last of its armor was beginning to knit together. It no longer had a face, but simply an angular, featureless metal helmet. All of it was encased in metal and growths of crystal. There was no longer a Hand of Doom, as there were two: a right that had lain waiting for eternity for this moment, and a left that had only recently returned. There was now only the creature, and it was nearly complete.

Before she even slid to a stop, Scarlet Mist lit her horn. A spell flickered in the air, conjuring a number of almost mechanical components that assembled themselves into a ticking dome over the vandrare. In a fraction of a second, it looked almost exactly like the rogue time-spell that Flock kept in his castle, protecting Equestria from perpetual motion. Except that this one was constructed by a sorceress who was actually competent.

Scarlet Mist let out a long, low groan. The mechanisms of the spell clicked, and then suddenly began to slow. The color of the vandrare shifted as well, becoming red in color and finally losing saturation until it was nearly gray. The growth of the vandrare’s armor slowed and nearly stopped.

The vandrare, though, did not. Its head slowly turned toward Scarlet Mist. Then, at an almost glacial pace, it began to raise what had once been the Hand of Doom.

“It’s not freezing,” whimpered Flock.

“I told you,” groaned Scarlet Mist. “I’m not a chronoplexer, the spell cannot be expected to be perfect.”

“But how fast- -”

“To fast. Impossibly fast. And it’s distorting time.”

“How long to we have?”

“Based on its motion, four minutes and nineteen seconds. But that is a moot point. This spell is draining a considerable amount of energy. This body will only last three minutes and twelve seconds.”

Caballeron, who had only recently arrived, heard this, and nearly cried out. “No!” he said. “You can’t!”

“It is already fading,” said Scarlet Mist. “Look.” She did not need to motion. Part of her flank was already collapsing into dust. “Gxurab. I will hold it as long as I can. I will burn this body to ash. But I can only buy time.”

“I know,” said Flock. “I know.”

Daring Do caught a glint in his eye. “You knew this would happen,” she said, softly. Then, louder, “you knew she wouldn’t do it, didn’t you?”

“I had a contingency plan,” said Flock. “Which is why you brought the Book.”

“The book?” Daring Do reached to her side, and found it tied there, exactly where she had left it. She produced it, and Flock approached it quickly, opening it to one of the many seemingly identical pages. The page, in fact, that Rainbow Dash had found in the Crystal Empire library.

“This one,” he said. “This was the first I translated, long ago. The one that gave me the secrets of the phase balance, to travel to the other realm. This is the one we need.”

“You’re going to send it somewhere,” said Daring Do, immediately understanding. “Somewhere where it can’t come back. A banishment.”

“No. A banishment will always fail. It knows where it is, and it knows the way back. I intend to take it somewhere where it will be destroyed instantly.”

Daring Do felt a frown crossing her face. She understood something, although only instinctually. This was not good. If it had been as simple as a spell, they would have never bothered with the Spear. This was a plan forged from desperation, and it would have a cost, as all such plans did.

“Where?” she asked.

“I’m going to break its phase completely. Send it to the reality that THEY inhabit, the alicorns. To Dagon’s universe.”

“And that will destroy it?”

Flock looked at her as though she were joking. “We would be shoving it into the heart of an Elder God. You might as well shove a mite into the center of a nuclear forge.”

“A what?”

“Never mind. There isn’t much time.”

“Well why didn’t we do this before?” demanded Rainbow Dash, still cradling Absence, who was not tremoring to the point of having mild convulsions.

Flock and Daring Do both looked at her. Then Flock spoke, explaining what Daring Do already knew was coming.

“The reaction will require power. Not just any power.”

“What kind of power?”

Flock took a deep breath. The expression of fear had returned to his face, but also one of resolve. “My soul is unique. It is bound entirely to the material plane. It is no longer immortal. I believe the destruction of a soul should suffice.”

Daring Do shook her head. “That’s insane- -”

“I will act as a bridge. Between the spell and between the other world. A free soul will be sucked in, pulling anything its touching along with it. There is no other way to open the Gate.” He looked into Daring Do’s eyes. “But I cannot open that Gate. Not alone. I am unnatural. My curse forbids me from summoning an afterlife. But you can.”

Flock reached down and plucked his dial from Rainbow Dash’s chest.

“HEY!” she cried.

“Keep in contact with the Spear, and you will survive,” said Flock. He then slapped the device onto the page, and it began to swirl and twist weakly around its shattered gemstone. It was slowing, but it still had enough energy for one last task. Flock then touched the edge of the book. His hoof distorted for a moment, and some black feathers fell from it. A fully formed crow stepped out, staring at Rainbow Dash with miniature versions of Flock’s eyes. It cawed softly, and then sat silently on the corner of the page.

Daring Do stared at it, and then looked up at Flock. “You know what will happen. You won’t survive.”

“If it’s any consolation, neither will you.”

Daring Do sighed deeply, and then nodded. “Yeah. I figured that.”

Rainbow Dash’s eyes nearly bugged out of her skull. “NO! Wait, come on! That’s not fair! You can’t ask her to do that!”

“You already chose which one you wanted to save,” snapped Flock, darkly. “My plans have been ruined twice by a sacrifice I can’t understand. But a third one ends everything. I cannot allow that to happen.”

“Nether I,” said Daring Do.

Rainbow Dash stared at her, both struck by awe at her impending heroism as well as complete disbelief. She shook her head harshly, refusing to accept what she was saying. “No. No no no. You can’t. But I can. I’ll read it- -”

“You don’t know the languages,” said Daring Do.

“Then Caballeron- -”

“NO,” said Daring Do with such authority that Rainbow Dash almost jumped back. “I won’t ask him to do that. Not now, and not ever. This is my job. Only I can do it.” She smiled, and for a moment almost looked like the young, swaggering adventurer pictured on her book covers. “Nopony else could do it right, anyway.”

Rainbow Dash opened her mouth, but did not speak. She felt tears, though, and hot embarrassment. She understood that Daring Do was right, and that somehow this was her fault- -but also that there was no right way to end this. No matter how she searched, she could not find a way to end it like a proper Daring Do story, where everypony left safe and Daring Do always won. So she cried, not out of fear or anger, but out of frustration at why the world just could not seem to manage to be like it ought to be.

Daring Do put one hoof around her, and then unstrapped her whip, giving it Rainbow Dash. “It’s going to be okay,” she said. “Remember, I’m the hero. And I couldn’t have done it without you. You didn’t do the wrong thing.”

Rainbow Dash looked up at her, as did Absence. Rainbow Dash sniffled. “But now you have to do the right thing, don’t you?”

Daring Do smiled and put her hat on Rainbow Dash’s head. “Now you’re starting to get it. You’ll do fine, kid.”

Chapter 82: Dying Hope

The clock was ticking down. Flock, Daring Do, and Rainbow Dash were speaking a significant distance from the vandrare, although they each had an instinctive sense that despite the time dilation it was watching them intently. In its mind, it immediately recognized the one with the golden wings, and also saw one that was badly deformed by improper use of magic. In its mind, it reflected that such magic was pointless. The type of creature that it was had no soul, and it saw no use for one.

The room outside of held other ponies, although they did not interest it as much. Several meters away, Softwings and Zel were both leaning on White for support, as both had been injured. Sweetie Drops came behind them, her eyes now almost completely red. Distantly, she understood what the black blade was trying to do to her, and that it took an enormous amount of energy to wield it. She had enough, though, and she refused to give up hope, even as she saw the monstrosity slowly raising its hand within Scarlet Mist’s spell.

It was only Caballeron, though, who dared to approach the bubble. He hated the thing inside, and what it had caused to happen. He hated the way it seemed to be staring at him, hungrily watching as numerous synthetic eyes followed him behind its opaque mask. More subtly, he hated that he had contributed to this outcome, but he refused to allow himself to consciously think such a thing. Instead, he just felt a simmering discomfort that was all that remained of his shriveled, withered conscious.

The creature, though- -if it could even be called that- -was not his concern. Instead, he was approaching the looming masked semi-unicorn that kept it contained. Her ethereal robes had nearly vanished, with what remained looking like little more than rags. The red, leather-like armor she wore beneath was still bright but was already collapsing in places. She was burning from within, and hardly seemed to care.

“Argiopé,” he said, his voice cracking. He was so very afraid, but once again, not of the thing trapped in the magical dome. This would normally be the time he fled, running for his life, but he could not managed to make his legs work, except to move toward the wizard he hated even more than the vandrare. “Argiopé, I know you’re in there.”

“She is not here,” said Scarlet Mist. “Only I.”

“No. No, I refuse to believe you. She has to be in there.”

“Her memories, perhaps.” Scarlet Mist sounded oddly calm for a mare that was in the process of dying- -until Caballeron suddenly made himself feel sick when he concluded that SHE was not the one dying. The Masque of Red Death would surely survive, and it would pass on to the next pony willing to put it on. And so it would go on for eternity, earning its name in a futile search for its no longer existent body. “I can remember every moment of her life. I comprehend her rage, her sadness, her fear. There is a great deal of it here. And much of it centers around you.”

“So you know me.”

“I know you as well as she did, yes. I can recall that you paid her little attention except when you needed her, and were only kind when you desired something. That otherwise you would yell and hit. And the many times you looked upon this body with disgust, knowing what she truly was.”

Caballeron winced again. He was glad Rogue was not here to see this, but in a way, he wished he was. Rogue always knew the right things to say. At this point, even Withers would be better at it than him. And that was a horrid thought. “Is it too late to apologize?”

“Yes. She is already gone.”

“Well, then, I’m going to anyway. Because this might well be my last chance. So listen carefully, because I don’t want to bother repeating this.” He puffed out his chest, trying to gain some level of confidence, but Scarlet Mist barely acknowledged it. She did turn her head slightly, though, all while keeping up the continuous flow of Argiopé’s life-force into the time bubble.

“Then speak, earth-pony.”

“Argiopé, I…”

“NO!” cried Rainbow Dash from the far side of the room.

Caballeron was shaking, but he forced himself to stay still. To remain calm. To speak as he forced himself to speak. Honesty was a new phenomenon to him, but perhaps if he had been honest with his father so long ago, he would not have lived in the shadow of his family’s shame for so long. And there would never be a chance to have that conversation again.

“Argiopé,” he repeated. “In all honesty I have no idea how you feel for me.”

“Felt,” corrected Scarlet Mist, but allowed him to continue.

“I don’t know if you were just hungry or if you actually cared. And…” He paused. As difficult as being honest was, admitting mistakes was harder. “…I treated you poorly. She’s right. I was cruel, and I was disgusted. Blinded by vanity. Can you believe the irony in it?” He laughed softly. “A mare who did nothing but try to appeal to me, and I was too much of a wicked fool to see beyond.”

“Your point?”

“My point is that I do care.” Caballeron took a breath. “Maybe not as you want me to. Perhaps, I cannot love you. Not really. But I don’t know. It hardly matters. Because I do respect you. Or I tried to. As a colleague, as any of the ponies who have helped me get this far.” He paused, and lowered his voice. “Although, to be completely honest, you are the only competent one I have found so far. The rest are dunces and steeds.”

“Where she still here, she would be heartbroken, I’m sure.”

“Well she shouldn’t be,” snapped Caballeron. “Argiopé, you’re fired.”

Scarlet Mist’s rapidly fading body shook slightly. Scarlet Mist herself did not seem to notice, but Caballeron most certainly did. He smiled, as if he really had told the joke.

“Because it is not professional. I am a gentlecolt, after all. Conflating romance and occupation always ends poorly.” He looked past Scarlet Mist at Daring Do, who was now looking into a large, ancient book. “I know this form experience.”

“Your point is moot. You will never see your friend again.”

“Perhaps not. But if I should, if I were to have that one more chance, well…I would like to pursue it from a different approach. One where she does not work in exchange for love, but can attempt to gain it all on her own, if she is willing.”

Scarlet Mist’s body tremored again. This time she felt it. The gears in her spell ticked suddenly, and the vandrare’s hand seemed to suddenly shoot upward two inches before once again slowing to a crawl.

“Stop,” she said, turning her head, as if trying to clear it. “I do not understand. What you are saying cannot be comprehended. It is nonsense.”

“No,” said Caballeron, removing his watch from his hoof. “Not by you. But I think Argiopé knows.”

Scarlet Mist’s eyes turned to the watch. “I know what that is,” she said, her voice beginning to seethe with anger- -and with distant fear. “A phoenix star. One you’ve been carrying since the beginning of this. Waiting to use it, no doubt. An object of incredible magical power. Were you saving it for this? To finally use it on the vandrare? Or perhaps on me?”

“I do not keep it because it is a weapon,” said Caballeron, softly. “I keep it because it was given to me by a pony that once…mattered to me. Deeply.” He turned it over, and Scarlet Mist saw the inscription. Something inside her mind began to crack. The words written there burned her more than any ancient runes could have.

“To a friend,” it read.

“No,” she said, now turning her head sharply from side to side. “You cannot- -you CANNOT.” She let out a low, agonized groan and took a step back. “Not again- -NOT AGAIN! I don’t understand, why? WHY?!”

Caballeron laughed softly, and put the watch around Argiopé’s wrist. “If you have to go,” he said, “know that I will remember you fondly. And that I wish you could have stayed.”

Scarlet Mist let out a low sound, a gurgle that no pony could have made. Her consciousness was on fire, burning from something she could not comprehend, but she did not scream. She had screamed last time, when Penumbra Heartbreak- -later known as Mi’Amore Cadenza, and even later as Cadence- -had removed her, and she had never forgotten the disgrace. Yet, in all that time, she still did not comprehend what it was that allowed them to resist. It was beyond her capacity. She was not whole.

One of the hooves- -what she thought of as her hooves, even though her real hooves were somewhere else, or possibly did not even exist anymore- -reached up to her. It was shaking and as pained as she was, but she could not drive it away. The hoof grasped the base of the Masque of Red Death, and began to pull.

“No!” screamed Scarlet Mist, suddenly. She was no longer able to control herself. “PLEASE NO! I don’t understand! I DON’T UNDERSTAND!”

Then came a different scream. A higher one, but one that sounded more triumphant than enraged. The Masque creaked and held on for its life, but Argiopé was stronger. She forced it away- -and then severed it form her entirely.

The Masque of Red Death dropped to the floor. It bounced once, spun for two or three revolutions, and then lay still. Argiopé, alive but completely devoid of energy, collapsed. Caballeron, as much a gentleman as he was a criminal, caught her.

And, as these two things happened, the time-spell dissolved and finally collapsed. The vandrare stood before them, watching- -and now fully complete.

Chapter 83: Blue-Lit Flower

Flock did not hesitate. His body burst into a plume of birds and attacked the vandrare, swarming around it, but never touching it directly. He did not know what would happen if he touched it, but did not want to find out.

Nor did he want any of this. He had been cursed for over a thousand years, and the only consolation in that fact had been that he was functionally immortal. Yet he was about to meet his end, and he was going to do so for reasons he could not understand. Daring Do had opened the way to the Hand, and the Questlords had not only taken it but tried to use it, even though they of all ponies should have known that they were blinded by rapid, false hope. Then, finally, Rainbow Dash had not struck true, electing to save a friend rather than do what needed to be done.

Rainbow Dash had been his last chance, but Flock supposed that he knew that this outcome would occur. He had known since the beginning. In the front of his mind, he had given Daring Do the Book of the Black Tower only as insurance, but he knew himself better. Just as if he thought hard enough he could hear the clinical, emotionless thoughts of his crows, he could sometimes perceive his own deeper realizations.

He had known that Rainbow Dash would fail. That something inside her would prove unflappably loyal. That tiny part of Flock that knew was the part that understood why. Though he had never considered it, that tiny part was also what separated him from Scarlet Mist: while she would never be capable of understanding, he might have once had the ability, long ago.

He was afraid. Even in his true life, in the ruined thing that was his original body, he had been known as a coward. It had not bothered him. He was content to stand behind the other twelve of his kind, remaining deep in the Crystal Citadel while he unraveled arcane secrets and created weapons in the name of the Eternal King. The only pony he had ever fought in earnest was Clover the Clever, and only because that deeper, unknown part of him understood that she would never go so far as to end him.

Yet this was necessary. For the sake of the Eternal King. This was how Flock would repay the king who had given him everything: he would gladly meet his demise to ensure that Sombra had a world to rule when he returned from wherever it was he had gone.

The crows began to accelerate. The vandrare began to recognize that something was wrong. It performed a spell by instinct alone, trying to repel the birds that it only distantly recognized from its ancient homeworld. It was too late, though, as the birds had already ceased to be birds at all. They had erupted into bright yellow light, the color of a burning soul. Without mass, they flew faster and faster until they became a vortex.

One bird remained. The crow sitting on Daring Do’s book. It stared at her, and she at it. Then she sighed. Unlike Flock, she was not afraid. She had been so close to her own end so many times, she had gotten used to it. That problem meant that it was time to quit.

Dulcimer’s last words had come to mind. That maybe this was better. She would never meet the end that Scarlet Mist had shown her, that bittersweet world of an author clinging only to memories and fantasy but forever unable to go on an adventure of her own.

“Well,” she said. “I might as well go out in a blaze of glory.”

She looked down at the book. The weakly clicking dial seemed to understand, and it turned slowly. Text appeared, rising silver from the black of the image of the Monolith. Daring Do stared at it for a moment as letters and shapes organized themselves, rising from the countless thousands of layers of ink deposited long ago by a raving but unnamed madpony.

Then she nearly laughed, as she recognized the language. It was ancient zebric, the language used by the most powerful of shamans to enchant their weapons and to derive the most powerful of their spells. It was a language only known to the most ancient shamans, those who stood at the precipice of immortality- -or those who had passed into the pale beyond it. It had been known to a beautiful zebra stallion who, on the side of a cooling and sacred mountain overlooking a land of endless beauty and danger, had taught it to Daring Do.

This spell was dark and perverse, if not in language then in the meaning that lay beneath it, that which was annotated in thousands of other languages that remained hidden in black ink. But it was the only way, and Daring Do was the only one who could do the job. She read from the Book.

“To the last great explorer, blight by godhead madness

When life is death, to birth they die

This gate. Flee our earth

Without worth;

In Blue

Lit

Sky”

The crow spread its wings and ignited with light. The spell reached out from it and in an instant joined those who had ceased to be. Their glow changed, and darkened- -and for a moment, Daring Do though she could see something moving within it.

Then the gate opened. She had somehow been expecting something physical, like a portal or a light in the sky, but that was not it. Instead, she felt the same sensation of falling as she had whenever they half-jumped into the world that Flock was now trying to take them to. Except it was much more severe.

The ground seemed to tear up from itself, and the air seemed to lose bearing on any space. Daring Do felt the light of the crow and the book link to her, drawing energy from her to perform the spell. It was her magic that summoned the gate, and Flock’s that drew them both into it.

She felt herself rising, but not flying. Her space was merging with different space, its phase slowly shifting out of place degree by degree. The vandrare seemed to understand this and began to struggle- -but it was already too late. The spell had bound the three of them, and there was no turning back.

Daring Do felt her body changing. She became as she was in the other world, the way that the pale alicorns had made her- -but she did not stop there. It kept shifting, and kept changing, until she did not even know what she was.

Then with a crack, the universe ruptured. It was an oddly quiet sound for something so severe.

They were no longer in the ancient Questlord castle, or in Equestria at all. Or anywhere that could be fully conceived by the pony mind, except for the one that had once perceived so much more. The one that had almost trivially created a spell to reach this impossible place.

Daring Do looked up at the sky- -and felt her sanity begin to splinter.

It was a sea. A sea of churning, undulating flesh and technology. A single creature, or something that had once been a creature, but now stood high above, watching mindlessly. A vast flower, building and rebuilding itself mindlessly but toward a purpose that it had long ago lost the capacity to understand. It was a storm, one made of metal and tissue- -one that watched the world around it without seeing, yet with complete and utter comprehension.

It was a horror, a thing of symmetrical, fractal beauty, lit from within by a hideous blue light. That light was far the worst part. Daring Do could have withstood looking up at its body if it had been a physical thing alone, as her mind could simply have blocked out its deeper implications. Yet the blue light reached out, strangling her mind itself: it was a horrible glow, one that no pony was ever meant to conceive.

This thing might once have had a name, when it was still mortal. Before its ascension had robbed it of sanity. Now, though, it was not. It had become Dagon.

Daring Do stood below it. She stared up at it, unable to turn away, peering past the towers of an endless frozen city. Impossible buildings constructed to dizzying heights, built on principals that could perhaps never be understood in Equestria- -but they were dull, empty monolithic things. They were ugly and uninhabited. Those who had built them and continued to build them had no need for them, but built them nonetheless.

Her breathing hastened. This place did not have air, not in the sense of Equestria. It was not oxygen she was breathing, but some other gas that served the same function but which felt profoundly incorrect. It was deathly cold, far colder than Hyperborea ever could be- -and yet she could not freeze. Whatever her body was in this world, she could feel every inch of the world- -but was trapped within the body she had been given. There was no end to life here, as Dagon would not allow it.

Then the others came. Daring Do saw them, standing around her in a circle. Alicorns, no longer ghostly but fully solid, fully present. There were so many. Those that stood in the ring, and those behind her, moving silently over the rubble-strewn ground.

There were more. More than Daring Do could ever have imagined. Hundreds, thousands, millions. From every precipice and ledge of the endless city, she could feel their eyes, watching her- -and comprehending.

Daring Do looked at those who stood around her, and her eyes fell on a trio with long, rainbow manes and pale blue coats. One of them was taller than the other two, and she was smiling.

Then Daring Do saw what was in their eyes, and she understood the horror of what they were. Their eyes were glowing, dripping with hideous blue light. These things were not alive. They never had been.

She began to rise, drawn upward into the sky. She nearly screamed. The thought of approaching it terrified her, but she managed to keep her wits- -and hoped that she would have them until the job was done.

The vandrare looked up, confused, its body trapped in a swirling vortex of dying light- -and Dagon looked down, and understood.

“No,” said the vandrare, in protest. This time, Daring Do really did scream. Absence had lied, or perhaps not fully understood the situation. The vandrare could speak, but its voice did not come from its body. Rather, it echoed in Daring Do’s head. To her, it sounded like the voice of an extremely young child. “No. Please no, I’ve only just been born. I do not want to die.”

There was no way that Daring Do could fully comprehend what was happening- -yet she did. She understood Flock’s plan, and knew that it was working. The vandrare was no god. Its power was nearly infinite, powered by magic and technology working in unison toward a single, irresistible goal, but in its own context it was only the shell of an empty bloodline, a pathogen created by accidental exposure to something that perhaps might have rivaled- -or vastly exceeded- -Dagon. Dagon, however, was a god. Not in the way Celestia or Luna were, or in a way that any mortal could perceive. It was a mindless, screaming thing, one whose will- -its eddy currents- -had inadvertently produced this world.

It perceived the vandrare, and it reacted. Still asleep- -for ultimate power was nothing but sleep, as the mind did not survive ascension- -it reached out.

Light descended. One beam burned past Daring Do. She saw half the vandrare torn apart, disintegrated in the blue light. The vandrare did not scream or react in any way, it only seemed confused. It did not understand what was happening, or why it was happening.

Another beam. More destruction, but not to the city below. Not to the things that looked like alicorns, which watched events unfold, staring silently. They, unlike Dagon, had some semblance of sentience, and for a moment Daring Do wondered why they were watching. If this was interesting, or if they were happy with this outcome. Or if they had no stake in it at all. For a moment, she thought she saw a white unicorn standing among them.

Then the sky began to descend. It was a flower. Daring Do’s mind could only survive by conceiving of it that way. An enormous, endless bloom, a blue-lit flower. And as she watched, it changed. The fractal vortex began to shift, and the petals- -great metal things the size of cities- -of the flower began to extend forward. Daring Do wondered to her own horror if that surface actually WAS a city, and if it was inhabited by some unspeakable population. Or perhaps by more of the alicorns that surrounded her.

The center of the flower opened. Pistols, stamens, the structures of a beautiful bloom- -and it should have been beautiful, had Daring Do’s mind suddenly failed- -if only for a moment- -to conceive of it as a flower. Instead she saw an enormous mouth lined with endless rows of teeth.

The light surrounding the vandrare failed and ceased. The crow on Daring Do’s book collapsed into golden dust, and Daring Do found herself alone. Without Flock, there was no way back. Even with him, there had never been.

The vandrare hovered for a moment, either defying gravity by some unseen mechanism within it or because gravity had chosen to defy it. Then it began to move upward, and the force took Daring Do- -a tiny, inconsequential, pointless thing- -along with it.

The flower descended, a storm of flesh in the shape of a great flower. Daring Do stared up, unable to look away. It might not have been so bad, if there had just been a sound. A roar, a wash of wind and thunder- -but there was no sound. Only silence. Dagon moved without sound, and the only noise came from that of the slowly falling luminescent snow.

“No,” said the vandrare, its pleading child’s voice tearing apart the silence. “No, please- -”

Daring Do finally managed to look away, and to look down. The view of the city was not so bad, and perhaps the alicorns below did not look so unfriendly. Just impassive. All in all, it was not a bad way to go. Not that she had any choice. There was no way back.

This was the path she had chosen, and this was her end. So many times she had managed by her wit and luck to escape- -but not this time. Her mind could not devise any way for her to get back to her own world, or to escape in even the barest way. She was all alone.

Then she suddenly felt something strike her from behind. She was bumped out of her slow orbit around the vandrare and nearly pitched into the city below, but a blue hoof wrapped itself around her midsection, holding her tightly. In front of her, she saw the glowing, rainbow-tipped point of a spear.

“Rainbow Dash?” Daring Do looked back, and saw the blue Pegasus holding her tightly.

“Hold on!” cried Rainbow Dash over the noise.

And there was noise. Daring Do was not sure how she had not heard it before, or how the world had managed to render silence to her before. The sounds were so alien that they could barely be described, save for the screams of the vandrare as it realized that it would be devoured.

Energy came from above. Not beams, but a blast of light that formed itself into lightning. The vandrare was struck, and the lightning seemed to grasp it, paralyzing it as it was pulled forward into the god above. Rainbow Dash cried out in surprise and raised the Spear of Extinction. Had the lightning been directed at her- -or perhaps had it not been for the will of three ponies watching- -there would have been nothing that could be done. Rainbow Dash, though, or Daring Do for that matter, were not Dagon’s targets. The energy was therefore weak enough that the Spear could deflect it, absorbing it into itself and acting like a shield.

Rainbow Dash turned her head and called back to somepony behind her. “Pull us back! PULL US BACK!”

Daring Do shook her head. The longer she looked away from the sky, the more lucid she became- -and also the more afraid. Except that thrill was the very thing she lived for.

She realized that Rainbow Dash was not flying. Flying would not have been possible in this world without magic; the two of them were caught in some kind of upward gravity. The vandrare was already being pulled into the sky by it, but Rainbow Dash was not. Instead, a thick black rope had been tied around her waist. Except that it was not a rope. It was the terminal end of Daring Do’s whip.

The whip stretched and impossible distance back to the ground, and hope flashed in Daring Do’s heart. The way she had come through was still there, still open- -and perhaps it was only that way because it was unable to close around the cursed whip.

It was still not exactly a portal. Rather, there just seemed to be an area on the ground below where, by looking down, she could see where she had been before, in the Questlord castle. The edges of it were distorted, heading back through the half-phase that bordered the worlds, and the edge held the circle of alicorns, still watching- -but now perhaps with just the slightest amazement.

The gate was shrinking, but Daring Do could still see the ponies on the far side, the ones holding the handle end of the whip. Daring Do could see that at the front, almost being pulled in herself, was White, straining mightily. Sweetie Drops stood behind her, bracing it with all the earth-pony strength she could summon. Softwings and Zel, though injured, were doing their best as well. The latter was no doubt only interested in securing his pay- -or perhaps not.

The rear of the whip was anchored to something almost out of Daring Do’s line of sight, but from what little she could see, she already know. The whip was tied to the body of an enormous weaver spider, and all eight of her legs were straining against the force on the whip.

Then the spider took a step forward. The others pulled as well, and White’s body- -which was already half into the world beyond- -was pulled back in. Daring Do and Rainbow Dash moved down almost a two feet.

“PULL HARDER!”

“What the buck do you think we’re TRYING TO DO?!” screamed Sweetie Drops before groaning loudly and yanking one more time. This time, the whip only moved a few more inches. Then it stopped.

Daring Do was compelled to look up. Although she shielded her eyes, she could still feel it. The flower had reached them, or was about to. Before her, she watched as the vandrare was swallowed, and as its body was torn apart and dissolved in the blue light. Perhaps it would provide no benefit to Dagon. Perhaps this had simply been a means to destroy a contagion, a reaction as thoughtful as an immune cell consuming the body of a minor pathogen. Or perhaps there was something more. If there was, Daring Do did not want to know it.

Suddenly she felt a presence beside her. She looked, and saw a rainbow-maned alicorn. She was not walking, or flying, but suspended in her own blue magic. Daring Do did not recognize her, except as a sickening parody of Rainbow Dash. Rainbow Dash, however, knew her as Harvestor.

“Rainbow Dash,” she said. “You ought not be here.”

“Sorry,” grunted Rainbow Dash as she tried to pull Daring Do back, even though her only leverage was against the now stationary whip. “I’ll be on my way. You can go back to…whatever it is you do.”

“She created the spell. Summoned herself here. She must not be removed. This is her fate. But it is not yours. Please, Rainbow Dash. Let go of her. It is the only way. You must survive. You have to.”

“No,” said Rainbow Dash. “Not now, not EVER. I’m sorry, Harvestor, I can’t. And you know that.”

Harvestor stared at her, and then smiled, although her kind could never smile genuinely. “I do understand. Because it is grafted into my genetics. But we cannot interfere.”

“You don’t need to.” Then, to the ponies below. “Come ON! Do I have to come down there myself and do it?!”

The whip was suddenly pulled- -but in the wrong direction. Daring Do was pulled upward. Down below, White was pulled more than halfway through.

White looked up at them, her red eyes barely reflecting the blue light. “We’re not strong enough!” she cried. “The change-spider can’t hold her form much longer!”

“Rainbow,” said Daring Do. “I hate to say it- -oh Celestia I hate it- -but you’re going to have to let go. The spell’s still got me, if you don’t pull yourself back through, you’ll be sucked in too!”

“Not- -going- -to- -HAPPEN!”

Rainbow Dash’s wings flailed, and the force of her attempt did succeed in gaining them a few inches- -but not much more.

“Dash, let go!”

“NEVER!”

Something seemed to glow within her. A form of energy, but not quite a spell. One fragment of something that had six parts. Something she would no longer possess if she had done as Flock had asked her, and ended this all before it could have started.

The glow gave her a little bit more play, and they began to descend- -but it was not enough. Once again, they stopped- -and they hung there for a moment before they suddenly jerked down almost a meter.

Daring Do’s eyes widened. “What did you do?”

Rainbow Dash’s eyes were just as wide. “That wasn’t me!”

Daring Do looked down. Through the opening back to her own world, she saw an army of white Pegasi, all converging on the whip. At the front was a single Pegasus, one who stood beside White and Softwings. Although she had barely any strength left in her one remaining front leg, she- -like her countless brothers and sisters- -grabbed onto the whip and pulled.

The whip began to move. It was steady, but desperately slow- -and it was not going to be fast enough.

Dagon had descended too far. Daring Do felt as though she could almost reach out and touch the edge of it. The blue corona of its presence was near her, and she knew that she had to protect Rainbow Dash from that light.

She pulled partially away, and then bent her head down and sunk her teeth into Rainbow Dash’s leg. Rainbow Dash screamed, and Daring Do tasted metal, but not once did Rainbow Dash faulted or even start to let go.

“No! I WON’T!” she retorted, dragging Daring Do into a tighter hold, even as Daring Do continued to bite.

Then, suddenly, she saw a flash below. On the other side, the entire length of the cable tied to Rainbow Dash was lit by orange light. Argiopé was nearly picked up as her whole body was surrounded by orange light. At the very edge of the closing gate, Daring Do could see Carillon, spreading her magic and pulling with all her might.

They moved. Almost fast enough. Daring Do looked up one last time, knowing that it would be her end. As she did, one last pony joined the group below. Cabaleron grabbed the end of the whip just past White, and he tugged hard, knowing that he would never live this down.

The force was just enough. Daring Do was pulled back suddenly, just in time. She fell through and onto her back just as Dagon reached the portal. One second longer, and she would have been consumed, just as the vandrare had- -and met whatever hellish fate that it had finally received. Instead, the gate spell shattered, and the boundaries between the two worlds sealed once again.

All was silent for a moment. A long moment. Then Daring Do stood up, allowing the book and the dial it contained to fall to the floor. She would pick them up later, but right now, she was shaking and weak. She looked out at the ponies surrounding her- -plus one zebra, and a changeling- -and they looked back.

“We did it,” she said. “It’s gone.”

She was nearly knocked over from behind. White was hugging her, and silently crying. In this world, she no longer had a voice, and no longer had her true eyes- -but that did not matter. What she was thinking did not need to be said.

The rest of them then suddenly started cheering. For the most part, just the white Pegasi.

“HA!” said Rainbow Dash, standing up. “That was AWESOME! Oh mane, Twilight’s going to be jealous!” She immediately walked quickly through the side of the crowd toward Absence was laying, and picked her up, supporting her. The weakened Pegasus smiled, even though she was barely conscious.

“I guess it went better than I expected,” said Sweetie Drops. She was standing apart from the others, looking down at a crimson mask lying on the floor. She started to reach for it.

“NO!” cried Daring Do, pushing past several ponies. “Leave that.”

Sweetie Drops looked at her, but did pause. “Are you sure about that?”

“Let it stay. I don’t want to give that back to Wun. I don’t want to give it to anypony.”

“But we can’t leave it here.”

“Yes you can,” said Carillon. The sound of her voice made the white Pegasi immediately fall silent. “Because this is the end of this place. Of the Order. Of everything he worked for. It’s all over. Nopony will come back here. Ever again.”

Sweetie Drops looked at the Masque of Red Death, and stepped away from it. “Yeah. I guess that’s probably better, isn’t it?”

Daring Do nodded. “She’s too toxic for our world. Maybe Flock was too.” She turned back to the other ponies. “This wouldn’t have been possible without them. We wouldn’t have won. But…”

“But maybe it is best if the world moved on,” said Carillon. “Moved on and left the old things in the dark.”

The sentiment was against everything that Daring Do stood for- -yet she knew it to be true. She nodded slowly, and it was understood that she agreed.

So when all had finally departed, when the castle had finally been cleared, all that remained within it was the ruins of what had once been a Necroforge, now decaying and corroding, disassembled into a way where no pony would ever glean the mechanisms of its function. Any pony that would find this place would find a castle built upon an ancient sandstone city, and wonder what grave cataclysm had caused it to be abandoned. Those future archeologists would create conjectures and theories, but they would never know- -assuming they even found this place and that it did not simply fade back into the desert, unknown and forgotten.

It was in this dark, abandoned place that the Masque of Red Death was left, lying on the floor, facing upward at nothing. No pony was around to see the sudden flicker of white magic that occurred nearby, or hear the grinding pop of a teleportation spell. No one saw as a tiny gray hoof, one carved deeply with trihorn script, reached down- -and picked up the Masque.

Epilogue: The Knight, the Vessel, and the Adventurer

Hot air wafted around the room, propelled by a small and ancient-looking oscillating fan. At the tables in the back, the same regulars had once again commenced a card game, slowly sipping their cider or juice as they passed around greasy, old cards. Mrs. Trotsworth was slowly polishing glasses, seeing no need to hurry but seeing plenty reason not to leave the bar. In the center of the room, an old stallion was asleep in his chair, leaning back and snoring softly.

Once again, Daring Do found herself sitting in the Get Out Inn- -except this time not at the bar, as was customary for her. Instead, she sat at a table in the back. The same one, in fact, where she had first met Dulcimer two months earlier. She had a glass of back courant juice set in front of her, but she was not drinking it. Rather, she was just tilting it, watching the inky fluid slowly swirl around the edge of the glass.

Sitting across from her where two ponies. One she knew. That one was Absence. She was stronger now than she had been when Rainbow Dash had freed her, but her condition had otherwise not improved. She was still sickly and pale, and though her eyes were her own they were empty and seemed to stare at a point far beyond the horizon. Her mane, which had once been white, now had streaks of silver running through it. She was thin, but well cared for. A ticking, gold-colored robotic limb had replaced the one that she had lost. It was partially covered by her clothing, but Daring Do still knew that it was there.

The other pony was one that she did not know. Her face was obscured by a hood that mostly covered her face, leaving only the lower part of her jaw visible. Her coat was teal, and she was smiling. Although she did not wear full armor, Daring Do saw the vestiges of the tradition. A distinct uniform that still held golden metal plates in various places, plates that were no doubt practical but more likely meant to represent the full armor that her distant ancestors had once wore.

On her shoulder, she wore the insignia of a thistle. Except that this one was not red. Instead, it was the proper shape and color: a green plant with a violet blossom over an argent background. Beneath it stood a crest, one that looked almost identical to Carillon or Dulcimer’s, save for the fact that it featured a lyre at its center.

None of them spoke. They simply sat in the lazy warmth of Southern Equestria. Daring Do wondered if they would actually have to speak. She did not want to- -but was aware that this conversation would be coming eventually.

“Do you have a name?” she finally asked.

“I do,” said the Questlord. Daring Do shivered. It was Carillon’s voice, although the pony it came out of was definitely not her. “But you don’t need to know it.”

“Fine. You already know mine.”

“Of course.”

Absence looked at Daring Do, and then looked away. She had been sent ahead, as a kind of vanguard. It was the kind of mission she had been trained for, but it had not been a matter of combat or infiltration. She had come to tell Daring Do of the coming meeting, and to prepare. In the time since, she had been living in the Get Out Inn- -but mostly staying in her room, silently waiting.

Whatever had happened to her, it had taken a deep toll on her.

“You know,” said the Questlord, “I do have to ask. How is Rainbow Dash doing these days? Iocane poisoning, it’s normally invariably…lethal.”

“She’s doing fine,” said Daring Do. She stopped swirling her juice. “She has friends in high places. She’s recovering.”

“Yes, yes,” said the Questlord, still smiling from beneath her hood. “I assumed as much. But there is something interesting about that, isn’t there?”

“Oh?”

“Twilight Sparkle was the one performing the spell. With Starlight Glimmer performing the majority of the real work, of course. You may not be aware, but Twilight Sparkle is rather prolific when it comes to publishing research articles. I’ve read all of them.”

“Of course you have.”

“And the newest one of them was quite interesting. A cure for iocane poisoning at long last.” She leaned forward. “Except, the funny thing is that the spell was oddly familiar. Parts of its construction used methods that I KNOW Sparkle would have no access too. OUR methods, in fact.”

“Is that so?” Daring Do finally sipped her juice. It was warm and tasted sour. “Well, I’m not exactly a wizard, am I? I don’t know how the spell works. I’m just glad it did.”

“So you don’t know anything about it? About, perhaps, a certain anonymous donor of a specific novel text- -”

Daring Do slammed her glass down, causing juice to fly out. The droplets were suddenly trapped in orange magic, and slowly returned to the glass. That answered one question, but only partly.

“Look,” she said. “If you want to ask me a question, ask it. You’re here, aren’t you? Or are you just that bored?”

The pony smiled. She looked up at Daring Do from under her hood. Daring Do saw the glint of orange irises, and for a moment was sure that this pony really was Carillon. She quickly dismissed the thought, though. Although they looked almost identical, she knew- -if only by instinct- -that this pony was vastly younger. Perhaps even younger than she was.

“Fine. Carillon Heartstrings is an extremely dangerous pony. She is brilliant but not stable. If we could find her, recover her- -”

“Imprison her, you mean.”

The smile faded from the Questlord’s face. “She is a threat to herself, to Equestria, and to our organization. Don’t forget that she is a criminal. If you know anything- -”

“Well, I don’t. So you’re out of luck there.” That was true. Carillon had vanished almost as soon as they had left her castle. Daring Do had no idea where she had gone, or what she was doing, although she had a feeling that it would not be nearly as dangerous as this Questlord expected. She had almost destroyed Equestria once, and, unlike some ponies that Daring Do had met in her long career, Carillon seemed like the kind of pony able to learn after a single mistake.

“I ask because it seems that we have a number of problems right now. The kind that I have to worry about cleaning up. Don’t forget, we don’t even exist.”

“But you’re wearing your crest and flag without a care in the world.”

“Because I know what I’m doing.”

“I can’t help you with Carillon.”

“Then maybe you can help me with her leader.”

“Dulcimer.”

“The lich. The product of an extremely evil spell. One that was outlawed long before he was even born.”

“And?”

“And? We never recovered his phylactery.”

“Do I need to submit a report or something? Absence was there. She saw. The vandrare destroyed it.”

Absence looked at Daring Do, gave a weak smile, and then turned away.

“The ponies present do not corroborate that. We need it.”

“For what?” snapped Daring Do. “To destroy it? Or maybe you forgot how to make them and want to remember how.”

The unicorn stared at her. “Maybe both.”

“I can’t let you have it.”

“Daring Do. You need to understand. A phylactery is not a petty little thing. It is evil, and dangerous. It isn’t a trophy you can keep on your mantle.”

She was bluffing. That was, in fact, exactly where Daring Do had placed it- -or more specifically, on A.K. Yearling’s mantle, over her fireplace. It was alive- -in the sense that a crystal containing an artificial soul could be- -but still weak. It might recover in time, but Daring Do was sure that it would not be safe for it to belong to anypony but her until the end. Dulcimer had not been evil, at least not in her mind. He did not deserve the fate that the mainstream Questlords were planning for him.

“I can’t help you.”

The unicorn just shrugged. For a moment, Daring Do could not tell if she was acting or if she did not actually care in the slightest.

“You certainly do like causing problems. No wonder he liked you.”

“From where I’m sitting, it looks like I saved Equestria.”

“Only after helping to nearly destroy it. Now we have a fugitive, a missing phylactery…and a unicorn in Singapone who just showed up at charity gala wearing a fully operational technetium dial on her shoulder.”

“A deal is a deal.”

“Even if it makes a situation that we need to mediate.” The unicorn sighed. “You’re not being very helpful at all.”

“Neither are you.” Daring Do leaned back. “You’re asking all these questions, but not answering mine.”

“Our operations are classified.”

“Says the pony wearing the Ancient Sign right on her shirt.”

The Questlord laughed softly. “Touché. Fine. If it will help, go ahead. Ask. I’ll answer what I can.”

“The clones,” she said.

“They aren’t clones. They are synthetic ponies.”

“I don’t care what you call them. What happens to them?”

The unicorn looked up at her, their eyes meeting. “We are integrating them into the mainstream Questlords. They will be distributed throughout Equestria. They will be able to live close to normal lives.”

“As your soldiers,” growled Daring Do. “You’re not going to set them free, are you?”

“That is not possible.”

“They aren’t property! They’re ponies!”

“Ponies with metal bones and cybernetic implants. Pegasi who bleed silver blood like unicorns. Tell me, Daring Do. If we just sent them out into the world, how long would it be until one goes to a hospital? A doctor? A pony who realizes that something is very, very different about them?” She sighed. “Then it’s another mess we need to clean up.”

Daring Do was about to stand up and quite possibly throw her juice into the pony’s face, intending to produce a substantial stain. Absence, though, stopped her.

“It is true,” she said. “Daring Do, please understand. Many of them do not have the capacity to exist on their own, not without help and time to adjust. And all of us are still loyal to the Questlords, even if our Order is no more.”

“But you should have the choice.”

“As she said. We will live close to normal lives, under their guidance.”

“And,” added the Questlord, “their children, or perhaps grandchildren, will be close enough to normal ponies to be able to fully integrate into normal society. It will just take time. They are patient, and you need to be too.”

“What choice do I have?” asked Daring Do, throwing up her hooves. Trotsworth, who had been staring at her, went back to polishing.

“None, really,” said the Questlord. “But don’t misunderstand me. We are truly grateful. You did, after all, save us all. All of Equestria owes you a debt.”

Daring Do sighed. “I don’t do it for their thanks or payment,” she said.

“Nevertheless, we are willing to pay you.”

“Then you don’t know me very well, do you? I have more money than I could spend even if I had a unicorn’s lifespan. I don’t want your money.”

“We did not intend to offer you any. We have something else you might like more.”

Daring Do stared at her. She could not contain her curiosity. “What?”

The Questlord smiled. She was clearly planning something and bad at hiding it. “I have been authorized to use an age-spell, should conditions permit. We are willing to give you back twenty, even thirty years of youth.”

“A spell?”

The Questlord nodded. “It doesn’t have side effects. It’s not unlike the one that Carillon uses to prolong her life. You would get another thirty years. If you want it.” She paused. “And if you are willing to help us.”

“For Carillon? Or for the phylactery?” Daring Do knew nothing about Carillon, but she did feel a temptation to offer the phylactery in exchange for more time. She never would have, of course, but she still felt the temptation.

“Neither. Neither are expressly critical, at least not at this moment. Maybe not even in your lifetime. What is critical is that we manage Carillon’s daughters.” The way she said the last word had unusual emphasis, as if the word tasted bad to her. “As of right now, we have acquired all save for two. One is apparently working with Caballeron, and we cannot seem to find him.”

“Have you tried Andalusia?”

“Yes. And his hideout there is abandoned.”

“Then maybe on a tropical island. Probably with a naked changeling in his lap.” She sighed. That image made her feel strange. She wondered if she could be happy for Caballeron. She hoped she still could. “He’ll be back. The thing is, he’s not going to be very friendly. He never really is, but after what you did to him.”

“We did nothing. He was dealing with a rogue faction. One that you took down. Which is another reason for us to be indebted to you. You did in a couple weeks what we couldn’t do in two thousand years.”

“It’s not like it’s easy.”

“No. No, I’m sure it wasn’t. But here’s my point. The other Pegasus, the one we’re still looking for. She wasn’t allied with Caballeron. She was allied with YOU.”

Absence stared at Daring Do, or perhaps past her. “She means White.”

“No,” said Daring Do.

Absence seemed confused. “She does, that is who- -”

“Not that. I mean I don’t know anything about White. Just like Carillon. For all I know, the two are together. She is her mother after all.”

“No,” said Absence, distantly. “No she is not.”

“And I think that’s a lie anyway,” said the Questlord. “I think you still have her. I don’t know where. You’re treating her as a ward, or maybe as a butler, but you’re hiding her from us. But maybe that’s just a theory. Maybe you’re just securing her until we can put her in a proper situation.” The smile fell form the Questlord’s face. “Realizing, of course, as smart as you are, that your extra thirty years hinges on you giving us what we want.”

Daring Do leaned forward. She looked directly into the Questlord’s eyes. “I don’t know anything.”

The Questlord glared at her, and then suddenly smiled. The smile looked almost relieved. At first Daring Do thought that it had been a bluff from the start, but then the Questlord reached beneath her cloak and removed a small box. She put it on the table and pushed it to the center of the table.

“I’m glad,” she said. “Here. This is a gift. Not from the Questlords. From me, personally.”

Daring Do looked at the box, and then at the Questlord. Her suspicion was apparently quite apparent, and the Questlord laughed.

“Go on,” she said. “ Open it. It’s not like it’s going to hurt you. I wouldn’t do that.”

“I’m not so sure,” said Daring Do. Nevertheless, she opened the box.

What it contained was at first quite morbid, at least until Daring Do realized what it contained. Inside were a pair of items that she had at first taken for disembodied eyeballs. Only after a moment of staring at them- -and of them staring back- -did she realize that although they were eyes, they were not organic. Instead, they were artificial- -but far more advanced than the ones that White had used before, or the one she currently had. They looked exactly like a pair of red pony eyes, with the irises made of some kind of perfectly cut garnet. For a moment, Daring Do was reminded of Dulcimer’s eyes and how confining they had looked.

“Why are you giving me this?” she asked.

“It’s not for you, really.” The unicorn sighed. “Because the pony they’re for is a friend to a pony who is very special to me. That pony gave her a gift of great significance to her, one that means more than I think either of them even realize. So I’m giving this gift to her. Not as a Questlord, but as me. As a friend.”

Daring Do looked at Absence, who nodded. Then she closed the box and took it. Her impression of the Questlord had softened greatly.

“Look,” said the unicorn, “I understand you’re apprehensive. I get it. Honestly I am too. We almost messed up. And we’re doing our best, but it’s not going to be perfect. Sometimes I wish we could be like them, you know? Able to move freely. To not have to hide in the shadows, pulling puppet strings and hoping everything goes the way we want it to.”

“You will. Some day.”

“When the stars are open to us, maybe.” The Questlord sighed. “I guess I wish I could be like you. But I can’t. I have to do what I have to do.”

“I know.”

“No. You don’t. Because it’s never been like that for you. You’re free. I’m not. Not completely. But I’m okay with that.” Her eyes met Daring Do’s. “So if the Questlords won’t thank you, let me do it. Not just for Equestria, but for me. For ending my family’s curse. I don’t hear it calling anymore. It’s finally all over.”

Daring Do was not sure she understood, but she understood enough. “Your welcome,” she said. She sighed herself. “I don’t get thanked very often.”

“You should, for all you do.”

“Maybe someday.”

“Perhaps.”

The two of them paused for a moment, and then Daring Do asked the final question on her mind. “What about you, Absence?”

Absence’s eyes suddenly flicked to her. Daring Do shivered. She was not staring absently, but was quite fully alert. She was staring AT something, something no other pony could see.

“What about me?”

“She will come with me,” said the Questlord. “We intend to study her in great detail.”

Daring Do’s eyes narrowed. “That’s what this is all about, isn’t it? You’re trying to rebuild it.”

“There is nothing to rebuild. The Hand of Doom was destroyed.”

“Daring Do,” said Absence. “It is okay. I…something inside me.” She paused. “Something is broken. It left things here. In me.”

“Which is why I suddenly don’t trust them a lot less than I already did.”

“She needs help,” said the unicorn.

“I do,” said Absence. “I need help from somepony who understands how to fix me. And to…to make sure it never comes back.

Daring Do stared at her. “Is this really what you want?”

“My choice is my choice. No pony will make it for me.” She paused. “When you see Rainbow Dash, tell her thank you, from me. And that I will see her again. As soon as I can.”

Daring Do nodded, and slowly turned her head toward the unicorn. “Take care of her. You know what will happen if you don’t.”

“Of course. I actually know Rainbow Dash personally, and I would rather run afoul of the knighthood than her. You have nothing to worry about.”

Absence stood up. She moved shakily, and did not seem to have fully learned how to balance on her robotic limb. “I am ready to go. And you are clearly nearly done here. Just let me go retrieve my things from my room.”

“Of course,” said the Questlord. “Take your time. I will have the teleportation sequence prepared for when you get back.”

Absence nodded, and left them.

The door shut behind her. The mechanism inside it clicked, and Absence did not bother to check it. It no longer mattered.

The room was small but pleasant, and she understood why Daring Do liked the place. The floor was wood and smooth, worn from years of use but not splintery. The walls were clean and painted a pleasant, cool blue, and the ceiling rose up at an angle. There was a bed- -the first bed she had ever slept in- -and a small dresser. A dresser meant to contain clothing.

Except that she was wearing all the clothing she had brought. The dressers were empty. Absence had no possessions, as she had no reason nor opportunity to acquire them. No possessions, that is, apart from a black attaché case that sat next to her bed.

She picked it up. It was large and heavy, but even though Absence had grown thin, the lines of metal that still persisted inside her muscles made her far stronger than she looked. She hefted the case easily and with great care, moving it over to the small oak desk that stood beneath an open window.

She already knew what was in the case. She had known for three days, almost since she had arrived. The case had been there, waiting for her, and there had been a small note attached to it. The note was bound to the handle by red thread, and contained a simple sentence scrawled in perfect Crystallic in scarlet ink:

“The deliver is made, as was requested. With thanks. From both of us.”

Absence laid the case flat and opened it. She examined the contents- -not for the first time- - and immediately went to work. She knew exactly what to do, because she knew what needed to be done and understood how to do it.

The first thing she did was eject the leg that the Questlords had given her. She appreciated the gesture but knew that it was of no use to her, and perhaps a detriment. Nothing they gave could be trusted, unless it was a gift from a knight directly. Otherwise, the gift in question was simply a generic tool, a means toward an end.

Absence set to work replacing it. She removed the new arm from the case, where it had been surrounded by foam. It was thicker and heavier, made from a darker metal and plated with armor. She integrated it into the place where the other leg had been, and winced as she felt it linking to her body. That was painful, and it would always be.

A pony with a whole nervous system might have passed out. Or not; Absence had no frame of reference. What she knew was that the pain passed quickly, and she flexed the new limb, feeling the heavy clockwork within ticking away.

The limb had been intended for a taller pony, but it quickly reset its size for Absence’s height. It felt better than the other one, more natural. Perhaps because it had once belonged to another pony and served her well.

The box contained three items. Absence removed the second. It was much smaller than the arm, and fit easily onto her hoof. It was a perfect circle, and about two centimeters thick. Inside it were a number of gears made of much finer clockwork than was in her new limb; gears that were made of a rare white metal, and that surrounded a single deep-blue star sapphire.

The dial was limited. Flock had been forced to build it quickly. While the others had been preparing for their siege of the Questlord castle and the final confrontation with the Hand of Doom, this was what Flock had been building. It consisted of mostly of salvaged parts from the damaged, nonfunctional dials that he had collected from various owners throughout history. The rest was a combination of pieces taken from the dying Exmoori equipment and the things that the Questlords had left behind in their haste.

Absence stared at the dial, and understood. With so few gears, there was not much it could do, but it could do enough. She gently turned the clockwork within it, setting the positions with respect to the white cross in the center of the stone. When she was done, the dial began to tick, counting down. She then lifted it and inserted it into a slot in the shoulder of her mechanical right limb. The clasps around the slot closed, and the dial integrated with the robotic systems beneath.

A few seconds passed before Absence turned her attention to the final item in the case. It was one that she was hesitant to touch, but she did so nonetheless, picking it up with the greatest possible care. This particular object was larger than the dial, and spherical. It hummed weakly with magic, but only a very simple spell. Nothing within it was especially dangerous. The spell was simply for protection- -and warmth.

The spear opened in the middle. Absence gently found the seam with her hoof and pulled apart the two halves of the top. Inside was a soft matrix of foam-like material integrated into a number of simple heaters and sensors- -and imbedded in the exact center, in a hole that had been precisely cut for it, was a single mottled crow’s egg.

Absence stared at the egg for a long moment, and then looked up and out the window. Outside, there was desert; the city of Somnabula should have been visible in the distance, with a beautiful oasis nearby. Absence saw none of those things, though. Although it was day, she saw no sun. Only fog, a strange mist obscured the things behind it.

Or nearly did. The shape was there, just behind it. She saw it out there, watching her as she watched it: a looming black obelisk, a thing that stood distant, waiting- -but growing closer every day. She could see its shadow, the shape it cast on the mist- -and as she looked closer, she could see the glint of silver writing slowly forming over its surface. Words that must never be read, that must never be comprehended- -and yet that Absence was so close to being able to understand.

Before the dial could close and activate the teleportation bridge to the far side, to the other phase of reality with the castle that she would soon inhabit, Absence spoke. She did not once take her eyes off the Monolith, for fear that it would grow closer if she looked away.

“Please, master,” she said. “Please hurry.”