Prologue - Fray

The call echoed through the void around him, bounding and rebounding in strange ways, echoing back in a twisted mockery of his own words.

Who are you? Who were you? What were you? And beneath them, unbidden, came the voices.

Nothing. A failure. A mockery. A shadow.

No!

He lashed out against the voices, against his own mind. Because they were his own mind. His own thoughts, echoing back at him from the strange edges of his prison. Clawing at his thoughts, screeching at him from the dark corners of his existence.

Failure. Nothing. Weak.

No! His “voice” echoed out once more, a pulse shrieking free of his form and cascading back against him as the shell of his prison reflected it back. The keening sound of his own rage cut across his mind like the fine edge of a razor, pain cascading through his being. But he wouldn’t stop. Couldn’t stop. No!

I am not weak! I am not nothing! The words tore out of him, cascading in all directions, twisting, spinning, and corkscrewing as they broke against the walls of his cell like waves against a fortress.

Ice waves … some small part of him suggested as the shouts tore into him once more, his own anger slamming back into his form with blows that were almost physical. Ice waves?

It was a memory, broken and fragmented. A single image of … a place? A dream? He could no longer tell. So much of his mind was in tatters, broken over the ages by his imprisonment.

You don’t even know who you are … The thought oozed out of the darkness like poison, seeping into his soul and digging in deep. You remember nothing!

Lies! He pulled inward, away from the walls of his prison, away from the endless echoes of his own voice. I remember … I remember …

Pieces. Fragments. Split by tiny fractures that ran through his mind. He’d been important. Powerful. He knew that much. Grand. On his way to becoming … He let out a cry as he tried to reach through the splintered void that was his mind. Something. He could no longer say what. He’d know at some point, back when he’d first been imprisoned. But that memory was lost to time, lost to the countless years he’d been locked away. He wasn’t even sure how long it had been. But the memory was gone. Whatever he’d been destined for … was out of reach. He couldn’t even bring it to mind.

He could remember the rage, though. The ceaseless anger. Burning inside of him like black cloud, sweeping away everything in its path. Even with his memories gone, he could still feel the seething rage, burning, always burning.

He could remember other things too. There had been a battle. A monumental one. With who, he couldn’t quite recall. He had visions, sometimes, flashes of imagery when the broken pieces of his mind drifted into place. A duo, clad in resplendent, terrible armor. Powerful as the … as the …

He no longer knew. But they had been powerful, he knew that. And there had been two of them. An elder, and a younger. Sisters both.

Their names were as lost to time as his own.

Still, he remembered … a battle. Combat. In bits and flashes, brief moments of triumph and rage.

He remembered that he had lost.

Weak.

Somehow, they had won. They had stood against him, that pair. They had meant to take everything from him. They had succeeded.

Almost … The word trickled out of his consciousness like a faint stream of water from a sheering iceberg. He remembered … remembered …

His body. He’d lost it somehow, hadn’t he? In escaping their clutches? Except that he hadn’t escaped. He remembered … a sealing of some kind. That was how he’d come to be in his prison, trapped by the walls with too many sides and too many directions … wasn’t it?

Another memory surfaced, a faint glimpse of a muzzle, a long horn, burning with magic. A forgotten spell.

No, he thought, the cackling of his own mind echoing back at him. Not just my spell.

There had been several spells. One was his own, a burning, all-encompassing thing that had swept away his very form, making him …

What am I? Who am I? If he’d had a head to shake, he would have done so. Why did I do it!? But the memory was gone, along with so much else. But he could remember … satisfaction. Yes, that was it. Deep satisfaction, welling up within him. He’d lost, yes … he could recall the anger, the burning fury as his destiny was snatched away.

Then why? Why the satisfaction?

His thoughts seemed … clearer than normal. Not by much. Then again, he didn’t know how long it had been since he’d slipped back into sanity, into contemplation. Time in his cell was … immaterial. Wrong. Eons could have passed in the real world … or seconds. He could not tell. He didn’t even know how many times he’d broken, gone mad and lashed out at the walls around him, the reflections of his anger and rage rebounding back on him and shattering what little sense of self he had left. Five? Ten? A dozen? More?

It didn’t matter. He was trapped. He’d been trapped. His mind flickered once more, the amorphous mass that made up his essence shifting and coiling as another piece of memory surfaced. A powerful spell, strands of magic wrapping around his very essence. Fear and anger surging through him … along with … triumph?

The younger one. I did something to her.

No, not just to her. There had been a city. A civilization. An empire. Frozen and cold. His consciousness clawed at the image, a silent scream echoing across the void as he attempted to force its secrets out of it.

Crystal. The word came to mind and was gone again, the memory shattering as his own howls rebounded back once more. His essence shifted, rolling and roiling as the echoes of his cries tore into him. They had been smart with his cell, his prison, those two. Binding him outside of time. And he … And he …

He had done something to make them regret it. More than he’d done to the younger of the pair. He’d interfered with the spell, hadn’t he? Bound it through him to something else. It had been rushed … incomplete. But it had been enough, he remembered, to steal away their victory, to deprive them of that which was—

Rightfully MINE!

For a moment he froze, stunned as the words rolled away from him, bouncing off of the void at impossible angles. Soon they’d be back, and he’d be forced to endure another onslaught as the sisters’ prison reflected his own rage back at him.

But there was something … wrong about that, wasn’t it?

No … some part of him hinted. Wrong about you.

His cry slammed into him, sliding across his soul like hot blades across bare flesh, the anger searing him. The feeble concentration he’d pieced together shattered, the few bits of himself he’d managed to collect scattering once more. Existence once again became madness as new cries echoed forth from his being, snapping back to torment him once more.

And then he stopped, shocked. Something … had changed. Something was wrong.

Who am I? He ignored the question, as he did the faint stirrings of thought that he’d just been thinking about something important, something vital. Something … else … was wrong. He couldn’t put a hoof on it—not that he had any, not anymore. He couldn’t even remember what it felt like to have physical form. Just as he couldn’t remember his name.

Who am I!?

The cry was plaintive. Lost.

Weak.

But the reflection that came back to him now, that clawed into his soul and threatened to make what little sanity he’d acquired break once more … was off.

Weak.

Something had changed. Something was … different.

Weak.

For the first time he could remember, he moved, willing the shadowy clumps of magic and spirit he’d become to move, to slide through the void toward the vivid edges of his cell. He couldn’t “see” them in the traditional sense. His eyes were as long-since-gone as his hooves, burned away when he’d completed the spell to make himself a being of pure energy, able to use the full might of—

Pain lanced through him as the walls of his mind slammed shut. But something about the way they did so felt …

Familiar. The word oozed through him like a shiver. Yes, familiar.

The world around him spun as he neared the multi-sided walls, time and space bent by the powerful magics that had locked him away. He could sense the threads faintly through the walls, the spellwork that had warped the very fabric of reality, tearing and folding it like … like … There was a word for it, he knew. He just couldn’t remember it.

But the magic had done it. Thick threads of golden-yellow and cobalt-blue winding in complicated patterns that could have possibly driven him mad if he hadn’t been already. And mixed with those, faint threads of red, black, and purple, like parasites feeding off of what had already been woven, using their strength to add a layer of their own. To seal … something important, he was sure of it. The sight of the strands brought back that same feeling of triumph, even if he couldn’t recall why.

Who are you?

Weak.

Nothing.

Failure.

Shadow.

The voices tumbled around him, but he ignored them, even as their echoes bit into his being. There was something about them, something about the way they were burning into him, that—

THERE!

He felt it, now. The echoes around him were not all equal. The reflections from the void were disproportionate to one another.

Echoes rolled back into him, digging into his form, but he didn’t care now. He needed them. The pain would show him the way. He turned, following the path of each echo, sliding along the wall toward one infinite point.

Then he saw it. The thread had weakened. Here much of the spellwork had been blue, been from … the younger of the pair. He’d done … something … to her? To the spell? Again there was that strange sense of triumph.

Who are you?

The thread had weakened. Something had eaten away at it. It was thinner than it should have been. Had been? Would be? No, that wasn’t right. But it was thinner.

He pressed himself up against the edge of his prison, ignoring the faint sense of discomfort that came from being so close to the spell. Long, long ago, before he’d gone mad, he’d pushed against the barriers. That, and the endless damage of his own anger, had forced himself to feed on his own essence to survive. That was why he was weak. That was why his own memories were so fragmented. He’d turned on himself to—

He paused. I remember. Faint slivers on the edge of his mind were sliding together now, and with a trembling sense of completeness, he felt it.

Magic. Leaking through the void. Ever so faint.

When he should have been sealed.

His prison was weakening.

But not enough. The faint trickle he was now feeling was far too little to sustain him. But if it could be widened …

Who are you!?

He ignored the mad mutterings of his own mind ranting at the pieces of his past. The seal was weakening. He could see it now. He pressed up against the side of his prison, spirit burning at the touch of the spell that kept him imprisoned … but not as painfully as it once had.

With a snarl he surged into it, ignoring the sudden pain as whole clumps of his being burned away. His snarl became a maddened howl of rage as he slammed his form against the wall again, only to stop as, even as more of him burned away, he felt the walls of his prison give.

Eons or decades, he couldn’t say. But the walls had never flexed. They were supposed to be immovable. Unyielding until the spell was either released from the outside … or the magic holding his walls in place failed.

Or he ceased to exist, torn apart by his own rage, and it no longer mattered.

He pressed again, shoving his being against the walls and watching as the spellwork binding them bent again. His spirit was howling in agony, more of him burning away with every second.

Who are you?

He would die before he found out. Or before he gave up. He could see the strands stretching, the parasitic growths that were his own infesting them, stretching alongside the weakened blue. He could feel himself fading too, breaking apart as more of more of what little was left of him burned away.

No! He pushed harder, his words changing to scream as his body bled away.

And then, with a sudden snap he felt rather than heard, the weakened strand broke, the thread of overstressed spellwork coming apart and unwinding. He shot back, away from the accursed walls as the prison shuddered. He could see the reverberations of that single strand moving through the entire spell, each piece and part vibrating as the entire collection of spellwork struggled to absorb the sudden change. Glee suffused him as it shook, shifted … and held.

NO! He surged forward, the last of his essence determined to crash against the wall—

And froze as he felt something he’d not felt in so long he didn’t recall. Magic.

Real magic. The energy that had infused his home, the energy he’d wielded as a king. A thin, steady stream … but widening.

He could see it now, seeping through the gap his assault had made on the weakened wall. Where the spell had cracked, so too had the walls of the void, time and space sliding back into contact with reality for a brief moment.

And that magic flowed into him. He drank eagerly, like a starving, dying pony in a desert who’d found a hidden stream. It was faint—barely enough, some part of him suggested, to even make a faint glow. But it was all he had, and he consumed it with relish, letting out a whimper of pleasure as it sank into his being. His form, starved for magic after so long, drank it greedily.

And with it, he felt the edges of his mind stir. Memories, locked away by starvation and madness, crept back into the fringes of perception. Indistinct, but enough. He remembered the rage as he’d been sealed … as he did the triumph when he’d corrupted the spell through his own link to … to … something powerful. He’d forced them to seal them both. He in his own cell, the … thing … out of time.

He sucked in the faint magic, small bits and pieces coming back to him with each passing moment. The voices in his head fell silent, greedily pulling their own scraps from what little he could gain. He took it all in, clarity falling across his mind as more and more of his form began to regrow.

He turned his gaze to the walls. They were still in place. Still held together. Save for the one small location where they did not, where the snapping of that single thread was allowing a faint piece of reality to break through.

With each passing moment, that trickle of reality widened, the natural order of time and the universe fighting back. He could already see the faint signs of the spellwork around the breach weakening. Quivering like metal cords stretched taut.

Before long, another would snap. He didn’t know how long it would take, but that no longer mattered. And with each breaking piece of the spell, the rest of the whole would be weakened. More magic would rush in.

And he would be reborn.

After so long, he began to laugh, not even caring about the few echoes of his own demented cries that echoed back into him. Where once they had clawed at him mercilessly, now their wounds were shallow. Magic healed over each one even as it formed, his form growing stronger with each passing moment.

Soon, the spell would fail. He would be free. Free to at last emerge victorious. Regain his power. Rebuild his mind.

He waited, watching as the walls around him continued to shake, laughing as his battered, wounded form began to grow once more, memories coming together in his mind and taking shape.

Who am I? The thought darted across his consciousness as yet another memory slipped together, feeding his own laughter. If he had possessed lips, he would have smiled.

He couldn’t remember the names of those that had imprisoned him yet … but after so long, he now knew his own.

I … am Sombra … and I am a king …

Chapter 1

View Online

You know, Hunter thought as he took another look around the interior of the airship. I’m a bit gobsmacked how warm this thing is as high up as we are. He let out another breath, eyes almost crossing as he watched the air in front of him, but saw nothing. Amazing. I wonder if that has something to do with the superboilers we use, or if it’s just something else? He was sure that if he asked Sky Bolt, she’d be able to tell him exactly how she’d done it as she had both designed and built The Hummingbird, but at the moment, that wasn’t exactly important. What was important was that despite being at an altitude where he normally wouldn’t have dared fly without a heavy jacket, the inside of The Hummingbird was quite comfortable.

Not that everypony found it so agreeable. Particularly one specific member of the team that found the cold a little more … bracing … than everypony else. He let his eyes slip to the side of the cargo bay, where Sabra, the only zebra member of their party, had already wrapped a small scarf around his neck.

If he thinks this is bad, Hunter thought as he turned his attention back to the crate of medical supplies he was securing with “crash” webbing. He’s going to be really suffering when we actually reach the Crystal Plains. He reached out and caught the end of the knot he was securing with his teeth, giving it a strong yank before leaning back and shoving at the crate with one hoof. It didn’t move. He shoved it again, this time with both forehooves, and nodded as it moved only slightly. A little give was okay, Sky Bolt had told him, but too much could spell a problem if they encountered heavy turbulence. Something they were sure to find with the winds coming off of the Crystal Mountains.

Satisfied, he stepped back and took a quick look around the rear cargo storage of The Hummingbird. The last time they’d taken the airship out, the entire interior had still been incomplete, the decking underhoof bare metal and none of the dividing walls in place.

Sun above, half of the piping and wiring was exposed on that trip, he thought as he stepped up to another carefully-webbed crate, tugging at one of the knots to make sure it was secure. There were clips along the walls for easier attachment, of course—either Sky Bolt had put an astounding amount of thought into usability, or she had a very thorough guide somewhere—but with the amount of materiel they’d stuffed into the room, they’d used them in short order, leaving them with little choice but to move away from the walls and into the center of the room. There were clips in the floor for just that purpose, but they required more work to make effective use of. As it was now … This place almost looks like a completely different ship from the last time we used it.

Satisfied that the crates wouldn’t slip, he stepped back and took another look around the bay. Sabra was still securing a crate on his side, the colt not quite as befuddled by knots and ropes as he had been when he’d first joined the team, but far from an expert either. But aside from that minor hang-up, the cargo bay looked …

Secure, he thought as he watched Sabra give one of his knots a final tug with his teeth, whipcord muscle up and down the colt’s body standing out as he pulled at the tail.

“That it?” Hunter asked as Sabra let go of the offending end of the knot.

“Ndiyo,” the colt replied, shaking his shoulders to settle his scarf back into position. Then he turned, pivoting on one hoof and giving the crate a sharp shove that, despite the apparent lack of balance to his position, Hunter had no doubt was every bit as effective as one of his own. “Our cargo has been secured.” His words were almost melodic with his Plainsland accent, though Hunter had to admit that the rhythm behind his words fit the whole “carefully balanced” theme the colt seemed to have going for him.

“Good,” Hunter said, giving him a nod. “Steel’ll be rapped to hear it. So will Sky Bolt.” The way Sabra’s ear twitched at the mention of the pale-grey pegasus didn’t escape his notice. He took a final, quick look around the room, even giving his wings a quick beat to make sure everything was in its proper place from above, and then gave Sabra another nod.

“Looks spot on,” he said. “Properly balanced and all just like she asked.” He turned forward, heading for the hatch that led to the rest of the airship, his mind once again jumping to just how different everything looked now that the interior was finished.

The deck underhoof, for example, was covered in a sort of stiff, rubbery padding material with circular holes cut in it. Probably to reduce weight. Rather than a large, wide-open interior space, there were actual rooms, such as the cargo storage he and Sabra had just left, and a small, T-shaped hallway that divided it from the forward compartments. He made his way down the center of the “T,” Sabra following behind, only slowing as they both neared the medical bay on the port side of the airship. The door was open wide, and he could see the telltale glow of magic from within, as well as hear the cultured tones of the team’s resident medic, Dawn Triage.

“Back end’s secure,” he said, sticking his head around the doorway to see the pink mare juggling several emergency medical kits in the orange glow of her magic. Why they had so many of the kits he still wasn’t certain, since they weren’t for the team, but the Princesses had been adamant that they stow as many aboard as possible before they’d departed. Which, of course, had left them with the puzzling conundrum of where to put them.

“Wonderful,” Dawn said, not even looking at him as she floated the medkits over to an already over-piled shelf, only to scowl and shake her head, mane bouncing. “Unfortunately, we’re still dealing with dozens of these blasted medical kits here, and I don’t believe they’ll count as stowed if I simply shove them into an empty box, nor do I expect Sky Bolt will be particularly thrilled if we mount them on the walls the way they were before we cleared the Palace of them.” Dawn gave her tail an annoyed flick, the orange hairs snapping past the bandage-wrap-and-syringe cutie mark on her flank. “At this point, I’m almost considering simply piling them atop the table and praying we don’t need it in the foreseeable future.”

A flash of movement from up the hall caught Hunter’s eye, and he stepped back as a deep-purple unicorn jumped over the open hatch divide, his horn aglow and several more medkits floating in the air behind him, wrapped in a blue glow.

“Nova,” Hunter said, giving the colt a nod. The former-thief-turned-Dusk Guard gave him a quick nod, but ducked around the entryway to the med bay, speaking as soon as he spotted the frustrated doctor within.

“Bad news, Dawn,” he said. “Sky Bolt says we’re putting too much weight on this side with all those kits. She wants us to either move them to the starboard—right—”

“I know what starboard means, Nova,” Dawn said, though the words lacked venom.

“Right, well, she wants us to either move them to the right side of the ship in the main room, whatever that one’s called, or the brig next to the bathroom.”

“The brig?” Dawn’s tone made it clear what she thought of that suggestion.

Nova simply shrugged. “Steel okayed it.”

“Hmm … Brig it is then, if we’re not going to need it. And if we do, whoever is in it will simply be very healthy.” The doctor turned her attention back to the med-bay, and Hunter took another step back, glancing at Sabra.

“Why don’t you help these two get the rest of those kits into the brig,” he said, tilting his head in the direction of the medical bay. “I’m going to go speak with Steel.” Sabra’s only reply was a quiet nod before stepping in to help with the pair. As he left, Hunter could hear Dawn already issuing him instructions as to what to grab.

“Captain,” Hunter said, leaving the hall and stepping into the “crew room.” He wasn’t actually sure what it was supposed to be called, but it was the central cabin of the ship, at least as far as the team was concerned. Some seating—much of it currently filled with duffel bags of winter gear that had been hastily thrown aboard—was scattered here and there along the walls, while equipment lockers took up most of the front wall. Wide windows on both sides gave a star-studded view of the night sky, the cloud cover beneath them lit by a thin crescent moon. Couches that doubled as bunks lay beneath each one. They’d been in a different location the last time they’d used the airship, but they otherwise looked the same. The back of the room was given over to storage and, on the starboard side, a galley.

And right in the center of the room—well, Hunter admitted, slightly forward if one was being picky—was a low-set, ridged table currently occupied by a spread of maps and folders. Captain Steel Song, their commander, was standing in front of it, his back to Hunter as he pored over the collection, his faint rumble of thought barely audible over the hum of the airship’s propellers.

“Lieutenant,” Steel replied without looking up. “How’s the cargo bay looking?”

“Secure and tied down tight,” Hunter said as he stepped up alongside the massive olive-green stallion, casting a quick glance down at the spread of paper covering the table. The map was what his eyes were drawn to first, a massive sheet of paper displaying the whole of the Crystal Mountains as well as a good portion of the territory to the south and north alike. “Dawn, Nova, and Sabra are getting the stash of medkits stowed away now that they’ve got a good location for them, and then that’ll be taken care of. The winter gear we’ll leave in here, where it’s needed.”

Steel gave a faint rumble of affirmation, but didn’t reply, his eyes fixed on one of the sheets of paper in front of him. It took a good portion of Hunter’s willpower to resist the urge to simply peek at it.

“If you don’t mind my asking, sir,” he said, “and not to be stroppy or anything … but can you at least give me a heads-up as to what this is all about? We’re not going to do a hot extraction for—” He took a quick look around the room to make sure no one else was nearby. “—Blade, are we?”

Steel shut his eyes and let out a short sigh. “Lieutenant, I think that when you start using terms like ‘sir’ at all, it’s a clear sign you’ve been kept out of the loop for too long. Although,” he added as he turned to look at Hunter. “It’s not quite anything I can blame myself for. I didn’t know until my briefing with the Princesses was over, and I needed you to get the team ready on short notice.”

“That said …” He turned back to looking at the map for a moment. “We’re not going to the Ocean. That hasn’t changed. In fact, we’re not to set a hoof over the border under any circumstance, something I hope doesn’t interfere with our actual assignment.”

“We’re not going to Northgait either,” Steel said, predicting Hunter’s next question before he could voice it. “Blade made a huge mess of it when she tore through it, but none of the chaos in the Ocean has come back to hammer down on it, thankfully.”

“Okay …” Hunter paused for a moment. What else could we be running into, especially with all those medkits? “Refugees coming over the Crystal Mountains?”

“That’s a pretty plausible theory,” Steel said. “But no. And I don’t know of any refugees fleeing the Ocean. Most of them seemed determined to hunker down whatever storm is rampaging through it right now.”

There was an unspoken sting to his words, and Hunter merely nodded. I deserve that. “So then … what are we doing?”

“We …” Steel said, sliding the folders aside and slapping his hoof against the map, drawing Hunter’s eyes to a large, circled area of the otherwise empty Crystal Plains. “Are going to hunt a mad king. And hopefully, if the Princesses played their cards right, save a kingdom.”

* * *

“Wait a minute,” Nova said, shaking his head as soon as Steel had finished speaking. “Have we ever heard of what?”

“The Crystal Empire,” Steel said again, his eyes flitting across the team as he spoke. Hunter had a pretty good idea of how Nova felt.

Considering that was me, not ten minutes ago, when Steel dropped this whole thing on me. The captain’s pre-briefing had been quick and to the point. Worse, it had left him completely gobsmacked. A feeling he had no doubt the rest of the team was about to experience first-hoof.

“The Crystal—?” Nova began, only to be cut off as Dawn spoke up.

“I’ve heard of it,” she said. Looks of surprise swept across the group’s faces, mirrored, he knew, by a look of shock on his own.

“You have?” he asked, the question slipping out of his mouth before he could stop it. He glanced at Steel, but when no sign to stop appeared forthcoming, continued. “How?”

“It’s one of the unexplained mysteries of the modern archeological age,” Dawn said, her normally calm expression slightly surprised, as if the relevance of her knowledge was as shocking to her as it was to the rest of the team. “Ancient historical records make mention of such a place, artifacts have even been found … but of the actual empire itself … no trace of it exists. Trade records, vases, ancient writings, all speak of an ‘ancient empire of the north whose heart glittered like the crystal the empire was carved from,’ which was fabulously wealthy for its exports and art. And then one day the records just stop mentioning it. Not that they mentioned it much in the first place. No trace of its physical presence has ever been found, despite centuries of searching. Artifacts and relics by the hundreds exist that claim to be from the fabled ‘Crystal Empire,’ but without any concrete source of proof.”

She shrugged. “To this day the topic is hotly contested among historians and archeologists. Many consider it a legend from before The Breaking, others swear it must have been a real place to have left so many unified artifacts that show a common trace, and still others claim that such artifacts could have been made to represent the ideal of what the ‘Crystal Empire’ supposedly was. The difficulty lies in that there’s so much evidence on both sides. Artifacts, historical records speaking of this ‘crystalline wonder’ on the one hoof … and on the other, no actual location that could ever be ascribed to the descriptions of its grandeur. And no signs of a calamity of the power that would be needed to destroy such a well-developed civilization.”

“Some have suggested that it existed in the unknown lands,” Dawn said, shrugging. “Others say that the trade records indicate it had to be located near Equestria. Some argue that it sank into the sea or ran afoul of some other calamity when Discord went on his rampage of the Equestrian continent—despite trade dates from after his defeat suggesting otherwise—others that it was consumed by the jungles of the south, and is simply lost, waiting for the right adventurer to find it. Regardless, it has been regulated to the conspiracies of history, the unexplained and the unknown that most are always ready to argue about, but few would seriously pursue, like the location of Asterion’s Jewels, the whereabouts of Reus and Kyr, or how the death cults of Anubis still secretly run the Griffon Empire. Though I’ll admit the last one is far past the point of credibility,” she added with a roll of her eyes. “Those cults are as dead and gone as their founder. Point being,” she said, looking at the rest of the group. “I have heard of it before.”

“I’d say you’ve more than heard of it,” Hunter said, noting the slow nods from the rest of the team as he spoke. Even Steel seemed caught off-guard by the mare’s sudden fount of knowledge. “How’d you know all that anyway?”

“A mare can have hobbies, you know,” Dawn said, seemingly for the first time realizing how many stunned looks were directed at her. “I find the study of the unknown interesting, that’s all.”

“Study nothing,” Sky Bolt said, her fire-colored eyes staring right at Dawn. “It sounds like something out of a Daring Do novel.”

“Oh, Daring Do has never done a story about the Crystal Empire,” Dawn said quickly, waving a hoof. “The closest Yearling has come has … been … to …” Her eyes went wide, her voice trailing off as she noticed the looks of surprise and, in at least one case, unabashed amusement around her.

“Really …” Nova said, drawing the word out as a positively gleeful smile moved across his muzzle. “And you know this ho—?”

“None of your business!” Dawn snapped, her raised hoof coming down atop the table with a sharp clop. “Captain, I believe you were about to say something that turns a thousand years of established history on its head?” There was an urgent tone to her voice, one that, given the look of absolute glee on Nova’s face, he didn’t blame her for. He could hardly believe it himself.

The ice-queen of the medbay, the high-society master torturer of needle-based pain … is a Daring Do fan!?

“Umm … Right.” Steel Song shook his head, clearing his throat. “Well, as Dawn Triage so unexpectedly explained—” There was a slight “hmmph” of disapproval from her side of the table, followed by another wide grin from Nova. “—the Crystal Empire has been a legend and mystery for centuries. Few have ever heard of it—though clearly, there are some that have.” Dawn’s lips pursed together into a thin line, and Hunter fought back the urge to laugh.

“Sun above,” Steel continued. “I was halfway through the briefing myself when I made the connection between what Princess Luna and Princess Celestia were describing to me, and the contents of an Adventures in the Unknown comic I’d read as a young colt. But as Dawn so eloquently put it, its existence has been a hotly-debated topic for centuries.” He paused for a moment, his eyes darting down to the map sitting on the table in front of them. “Until today.”

“I knew it!” Dawn’s outburst caught everyone at the table by surprise including, from the wide-eyed look on her face as she clapped a hoof over her muzzle, herself.

“Sergeant major,” Steel said, biting back a cough that sounded suspiciously like a chuckle. “Are substantial revelations on the nature of Equestrian history going to be a … problem?”

“No sir,” Dawn said, letting out a curt cough as she straightened her mane with a hoof. “Not at all. I was merely …”

“Excited,” Hunter suggested.

“Exuberant,” Sky Bolt threw in.

“Completely and utterly … How do you put it?” Nova asked, glancing at Hunter before adopting a suddenly very passable imitation of his accent. “Utterly rapped to hear such a ripping bit of news?”

“That’s … not quite how I would put it,” Hunter said. “But not bad on the accent.” He sucked in a breath, ready to come between the two as Dawn … simply shrugged and sat back with a look on her face that was almost unreadable. On top of being completely perplexing. Nova seemed as shocked by her response as anyone else, but then again, maybe that was the point.

“Apologies, Captain,” she said, her voice perfectly level. “It shouldn’t—won’t—happen again.”

“By all means, Dawn,” Steel said, his eyes darting between her and Nova. “If you do have something to add, I welcome it. The depths of your knowledge on this topic—and your dedication to it—was unknown to me prior to this moment, but there’s a good chance it could be helpful going ahead. That said, getting back to it, earlier this evening, yes, Princess Celestia and Princess Luna authorized me to confirm that yes, the Crystal Empire is a real place … and that’s where we’re headed.”

“Is?” Sky Bolt’s question was almost cut out by a squeak of surprise from Dawn, again drawing eyes, though the mare said nothing. “Don’t you mean ‘was?’ This place vanished thousands of years ago.”

“Roughly thirteen to sixteen hundred, depending on the record,” Dawn said quickly, before snapping her jaw shut. Steel merely nodded.

“Actually, both are correct and wrong at the same time,” he said. “At least that’s how the Princesses explained it to me.”

Oh yeah, there’s the look of confusion I had about ten minutes back, Hunter thought as he looked over the rest of the group. Magic does stuff that’s just plain starkers.

“That doesn’t make any sense.” Nova was the first to speak. “How can something both exist and not exist at the same time? Wasn’t this place wiped out or something? If it’s still there, it’s still there. If it’s not, it’s not.”

“I concur,” Sabra said, his melodic voice drifting through the airship bay. “Unless my knowledge of Equestrian is proving a barrier, such statements would be in disagreement with one another.”

“It both does exist and doesn’t exist because of what happened to it,” Steel said. “And understand that I don’t quite have a full grasp of it myself. To get that, you’d need to talk to the Princesses. But the short of it is that the entire kingdom, the whole thing, got sealed away.”

Both Nova and Dawn’s eyes went wide, though Hunter suspected for different reasons. “That would take an … enormous amount of power,” Nova said, speaking first. “Also, sealed away how?”

“It did take an enormous amount of power,” Steel said with a nod. “But to explain exactly where it came from, I need to explain some background on the empire and its inhabitants. As far as how, though, the answer is ‘outside of time.’”

“Wait, outside of time?” This time it was Sky Bolt that had spoken. “How does that work?”

“Believe me, I wish I could give you an answer,” Steel said, lifting a hoof to rub at the side of his head. “What I’m telling you is simply what Princess Celestia and Princess Luna told me, and I trust their explanation. But the entire empire, all its inhabitants, infrastructure, even land, is bound up in a ‘pocket’ somehow, outside of time. Princess Celestia said that if the world as we know it were a spherical balloon, then what happened to the empire was like taking a small piece of that balloon, stretching it up and away from the rest of the surface, and then twisting it at the base until you have a little bubble all off on its own. But with time, or something.”

“Wait a minute …” Sky Bolt said. “The Crystal Anomaly.”

“The what?” Hunter asked.

“It’s a weird thing with the territory south of the Crystal Mountains,” Sky Bolt replied. “If you take large measurements of the region and try to work out how many square miles the territory has, you get a number. However, if you measure smaller and smaller regions and do the math again, the smaller numbers don’t add up to the larger number. It’s a known mapping problem, but the Crystal Anomaly is so-called because the area south of the Crystal Mountains has a much more pronounced variation of the problem than other mapped regions.”

Steel shrugged. “I don’t know if that has anything to do with it or not. All I can say is that the whole empire—land included—got wrapped up in a bubble and “sealed” outside of … well … time.”

“Okay,” Nova said, nodding. “But how did it happen? What has the power to do that?”

“The Princesses might,” Sabra said. “They wield impressive magical powers as the undying—immortals.”

“It took more than them,” Steel answered. “But yes, they were involved. And to answer the questions that answer brings, we have to go back to who founded the Crystal Empire: the crystal ponies.”

“The who?” It didn’t matter who had voiced the question. It was written on everypony’s face.

“The crystal ponies,” Steel said again. “Were—or I guess, are—another subtype of the pony race. Earth pony, pegasus, unicorn … and crystal pony.”

“Legends exist of such a type, though as a specific subset of unicorn or earth ponies,” Dawn said, though she didn’t elaborate further, even when Steel paused.

“Yes,” he said. “They do. But as it was explained to me, what makes crystal ponies … well, crystal ponies, aside from some very unique coloration to their coats, was their magic. Just like earth ponies have earth pony magic, and pegasi pegasus magic, crystal ponies had their own, unique form of magic. Collective, empathetic magic.”

“Hang on a second,” Nova said, his face screwing up as he worked through the captain’s words. “So they were heavily invested in emotional magic … as a group?”

“That’s precisely it,” Steel affirmed. “Individually, a single crystal pony held only a small amount of magical energy. But if a few of them gathered together, and were of a similar emotion, they could rival a unicorn. A few more, and that power grows. According to Celestia, back during the Breaking, when she and her sister weren’t always able to control the sun and moon, unicorns would team up with groups of crystal ponies to achieve the power necessary to at least keep the orbit stable.”

“Really?” Sky Bolt perked up. “The history books don’t say anything about that. Though I guess knowing the ancient unicorn kingdom, that makes sense.”

“Well,” Steel continued. “That and Princess Celestia and Luna apparently carefully buried any history of the Crystal Empire to keep it secre—”

Dawn shot up straight. “They what?” she asked, a look of purely incensed horror on her face. “How could—?”

“For reasons,” Steel said. “Reasons I’ll explain if you give me time to. I know, it sounds appalling, but with what they told me not three hours ago … I understand why they did it.”

“Point being, Crystal Ponies liked to band together, and they made a lot of power when they did so. So while the three tribes banded together to make Equestria, the crystal ponies banded together on their own near the Crystal Mountains and founded their own nation. Acting collectively, and as a group, they could defend it even from immortals and other outside threats.”

“So then … what went wrong?” Nova asked.

“A unicorn,” Steel said. “Named Sombra. He apparently took notice of the amount of power the crystal ponies wielded, as a whole, and started studying it for his own ends. The Princesses didn’t go into a lot of detail, but he discovered a way to make himself a focus, a central point for all that power.”

“Emotion-based magic,” Nova said, his voice quiet. Steel nodded.

“Exactly. He worked his way into the kingdom, acquired a position of power and … took over. Princess Luna called it a ‘reign of terror.’”

“Dark magic,” Dawn said, her expression one of disgust.

“Exactly. He made the crystal ponies afraid, fearful … and then focused all that magic back into himself.”

“For what?” Sabra asked.

“The oldest goals around,” Steel replied. “Power. Dominance. And … immortality.” He ignored the shocked gasps from around the table. “Apparently, he was looking for a way to make himself an immortal like the rest of them. But worse. Stronger. More powerful. The only immortal. He built an army, began to set his sights on Equestria …”

“And the Princesses intervened, didn’t they?” Nova asked, a faraway look in his eyes. “Sombra—” He shot a quick look at Sabra. “Sorry buddy, but this Sombra guy … I think Princess Luna told me about him once. She said she and her sister were forced to defeat him, but that his story was … incomplete.”

To Hunter’s surprise, Steel let out a quick chuckle. “That’s one way of putting it, but I’ll bet you’re right. They faced him, in combat … and it was a draw.”

“A draw?” Dawn asked, incredulity in her voice. “Against two immortals?”

“The Princesses are not all-powerful,” Steel said. “And Sombra was drawing on the might of an empire of crystal ponies. Despite that, according to Princess Celestia, they almost won. She and Luna attempted to seal him outside of time, in a prison that would leave him aware but powerless as the days passed. Where he would have starved to death. Grim, I know, but considering what they were up against.”

“How’d he get out of it?”

“By interfering with the spell and sacrificing his own body to do it.” Hunter let out a gasp of shock, one echoed by the rest of the team. This part, Steel hadn’t told him.

“He became a shade, ‘a being of magic, spirit, and rage,’ as Princess Luna put it,” the captain continued. “He sacrificed his body and most of his power to link his own fate to—”

“The focal point,” Nova said suddenly, cutting Steel off. “He was linked to the empire already, so he amplified that, channeled their spell back along to every single part of it.”

Steel paused. “You have been studying.”

Nova shrugged. “Princess Luna is a good teacher. Also, she cheats at poker.”

“From what I’ve heard, so do you,” Steel countered. “But you’re right. He linked the Princesses’ sealing spell through him back to the entire empire. So when he vanished … so did it. Though they at least locked it in time, unlike Sombra, so they’re not aware anything has happened. Hopefully. They did say there might be some slippage, maybe a few hours or so. But setting that aside, the Princesses won … and they lost. So the empire exists … but yet doesn’t.”

“So what does this have to do with us?” Sky Bolt asked. “It’s gone, right?”

“For now,” Steel said, and Hunter watched as the team’s ears flicked forward almost in unison. “When the Princesses realized what he was doing, they altered the sealing. Since Sombra was trying to do that anyway, I guess it wasn’t that difficult, as far as things like that go. Anyway, the sealing wasn’t perfect. According to the Princesses, it’s already begun to come apart, and before long it will unravel completely. And when that happens—”

“An entire empire of time-displaced ponies is going to reappear,” Dawn said, her voice awed. “That explains the medical supplies.”

“Not just them,” Hunter said, speaking up for the first time. “A time-displaced empire … and maybe the power-mad shade of a king.”

“Ah,” Nova said, nodding as if he’d finally put the pieces together. “I think I see what our part in this is going to be.”

“Not quite,” Steel said. “The mission is straightforward. The Sisters know that the spell is coming undone, but they still don’t know how long it could be before it actually unravels completely. Could be hours, days … or weeks. We’re going to patrol the area roughly around where the empire used to be until that happens.”

“Excuse me for interrupting,” Sabra said. “But I have a question. Why did the Princesses cover this event up?”

“Right. They explained that too,” Steel said. “Because Sombra had followers. An ‘Order of the Red Horn.’ Some of them were in the city when it was sealed, but others weren’t. The Sisters buried records of the Crystal Empire’s existence because the longer it was sealed, the weaker Sombra would be when it came back—if he even came back at all. The prison they sealed him in was not nice, apparently. But if he had followers out there, followers that could study the area, or gain access to very specific components of the city—”

“They could break the seal early,” Nova jumped in. “And this dude would be back in the real world, without most of his power lost.”

“And neither of them wanted to take that chance,” Steel finished. “Does that answer your question?” Sabra nodded.

“Right,” Steel continued. “So once this city appears, we have two objectives. The Sisters assure me that Sombra himself will not be there. He was sealed somewhere else, off near the Glacier of Woe. So we’re going to split the team. Three of us will stay at the city center. That team’s mission will be to secure it, treat the populace, and most importantly of all, take out what’s left of this ‘Order of the Red Horn.’ Celestia and Luna said they decimated the group prior to their final battle with Sombra, but the capital was still held in sway by loyalists. They’ll root them out, and secure the palace for the arrival of Captain Armor and Princess Cadance, along with some Royal Guard to help distribute supplies, keep the peace, and the like. Captain Armor and Princess Cadance together can erect a shield around the city that will be able to keep Sombra out. Once that shield is up, and the city is secure for the arrival of the Elements—not my department—it’ll rejoin the other team.”

“This other team will have a different mission. They will take The Hummingbird, find Sombra, and—”

“Crush him?” Nova suggested.

“No,” Steel said, shaking his head. “The Princesses assured me we have no chance of that. They’re to delay him. Harry him. Keep him distracted. According to the Princesses, he’ll be weak, so whoever goes might have the edge on him when he’s freshly released, but even then they won’t be able to kill him, not with how he’s tied himself to the city. And the longer he’s out, the more power he’ll regain.”

“Okay …” Nova said, lifting one eyebrow as he glanced at Hunter. “So they’ll be accomplishing what, then?”

“They’d be keeping him from getting to the city until Princess Cadance can put her shield up and the Elements arrive,” Hunter said. “A delaying action. Once the city appears, we’ll send up a flare to notify Guard along the northern rail line. They’ll relay that signal south. Princess Cadence is already being brought back to Canterlot, and she’ll be on her way north soon. This other team’s job will be to keep Sombra busy until she and the Elements of Harmony are safely inside the city.”

“Annoy an ancient king?” Dawn asked. “Sounds like the ideal job for you, Nova.”

“I’m liking the sound of it myself,” he replied. “One last question though. Why the Elements? Why not the Princesses? They beat him once, sort of. If he’s weak, why aren’t they stepping in?”

Silence fell in the wake of his question, the drone of the airship’s propellers the only sound as one by one all eyes turned to Steel.

Good question, Hunter thought as he joined in looking at the captain. Did they answer that? For several seconds, Steel Song was silent.

“They have their reasons,” he said at last. “Neither of the pair would elaborate. If we or the Elements fail, they will serve as backup. However …” He paused again, swallowing. “Princess Celestia did pull me aside as I left to warn me not to underestimate Sombra. He deals in fear and doubt. She told me … She told me that the last time they faced Sombra, she ultimately lost her sister. She wouldn’t elaborate any further than that.”

A chill ran down Hunter’s spine. How in the blazes are we supposed to deal with something that can do that?

“She did,” Steel said, “have one last bit of advice, though. She said to have faith in one another. We trust ourselves, we trust the team. Sombra preys on doubt and fear, revels in it. She said the best way to counter that was to have faith in one another, and in all things that fight fear.” He looked up at each of them, eyes circling the table.

“We have faith in one another, and we put this shade back in the dregs of history where he belongs.”

Chapter 2

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When he’d lived in the Unicorn Range, Sabra realized as he lay on the small bunk with his scarf wrapped tightly around him, he’d once thought that it would be nigh impossible for the world to grow any colder. For the howling winds and deep snows to grow any more impactful than they already were.

Of course, even then he’d known that he had been wrong. That he’d simply been telling himself that to downplay the constant chill, the cloying cold that never seemed to leave his coat, by imagining that such was true. He’d known he’d been wrong.

At the moment, however, he wished he’d been right. The Hummingbird shook again, the bunk beneath him jerking as a gust of wind roared into its side, and he adjusted his shoulders, trying hard to worm deeper into the large blanket he’d been given the night before. It provided warmth, yes, but not quite as much as he would have wished. It had been enough to get him through the night without too much discomfort, but now …

I will simply have to adapt. Dawn Triage had started him on what she’d called “acclimation exercises,” designed to help his body adjust to Equestria’s colder climate as they moved toward winter, but they’d begun them only recently, and as she’d commentated the day before, they had not had near enough time to achieve the results either of them had been looking for.

Maybe I should begin sleeping in my armor suit, he thought as another gust of wind shook The Hummingbird. Rattling echoed through the interior, but he ignored it. His talent told him it was merely the crate of eating utensils shifting again. It would prove impractical if I needed to relieve myself, but … He shifted again, accidentally opening a slight crack in the comforter that let a scythe of cold cut down his side. He pulled back, deeper into the blanket. It might be worth it.

Nearby, he heard the pattern of someone’s breathing shift. It only took him a moment’s focus to identify the owner, and even then it wasn’t surprising. Captain Song always did rise early. Sabra waited. Was the captain rising, or had he just shifted in his sleep? There was enough light touching his eyelids that the sun had to be rising soon, but how early it truly was he wasn’t sure.

Nor did he really want to know. A small part of him felt tired, dragged out by the strange experience of sleeping aboard a floating airship. The winds had rocked the vessel all night, and despite Sky’s assurances, there was a part of him that had worried the machine would simply drift into a mountain while the entire team was asleep.

Sky Bolt hadn’t just had to assure him that it wouldn’t happen. She had slept in the cockpit, on a fold-down bunk so she could check on the ship throughout the night and be there in case anything went wrong.

The sound of Captain Song rolling in his bunk echoed across the room, giving further evidence that the captain had awoken. Which means that soon it will be time for all of us to rise. Not for the usual morning routine—there was no place for the team’s more dedicated workouts and exercise aboard the small airship—but to ready for the mission. Captain Song had given the orders the night before: all members of the team were to be at combat readiness, or minutes away from it, at all times once they neared the mission objective. Suits at minimum, armor if possible.

He shifted again, trying to capture what little warmth he could and forcing his mind to still. If the captain was just shifting, and wasn’t intending to arise, then maybe he could drift back to sleep and gain a little more rest before—

A heavy gust shook The Hummingbird, and for a brief instant he was hanging in the air, his stomach rising as the airship dropped. It lasted only a moment, the wind shear that had rocked the airship already past, but his eyes snapped open, unbidden.

Perhaps I should consider asking the captain to assign me to the team that will deploy to this city, he thought as he stared up at the cabin’s metal ceiling. Where it may be warmer. Or at least sheltered from the wind somewhat. The magilights were off save a few, but a faint glow from outside the windows added its own ambiance to the room. He turned his head to the side, but could make out nothing outside the window aside from a dull, grey sky.

It’s as if the colors have abandoned the world, he thought. Or a summer monsoon swelled to fill the horizon. Apparently the long swaths of grey cloud were common so far to the north, though Sky and Steel both had mentioned they did clear from time to time. Now, however …

You couldn’t make it this grey if a whole city lit fires with green wood and filled the sky with smoke. His belly gave a slight rumble, mind leaping from "smoke" to "smoking,” and from there to the smoked treats of his homeland. Breakfast. That would be one of the benefits to simply forgoing what little time he had left to sleep altogether. He’d gotten by on far less sleep before. And thanks to Lieutenant Hunter, much of the provisions they’d brought on board were of decent quality.

Steel shifted again, his breathing pattern steadying. Asleep then. Either he’d simply shifted and thrown off his rhythm, or he’d awakened for a moment and decided to go back to sleep.

Either way, it wasn’t aiding his own rest at all. He closed his eyes, focusing his ears on the sounds of the rest of the team around them. His own bunk was against the left—Port—wall and forward, while the one behind him was occupied by Lieutenant Hunter. Of all the members of the team, the sounds he made while sleeping were the easiest to identify and position. He snored. Not loudly, but there was a definite drone to each rise and fall of his chest.

Steel, meanwhile, had taken the forward right—Starboard, he reminded himself, sounding out the pronunciation of the word in his head—bunk, the solid earth pony’s restful cadence like a rolling stone. Behind him was Nova, who was almost as quiet a sleeper as he was an active speaker when awake, though there was some sense to be had in that. Nova was an active speaker when he chose to be. Growing up leading the life he had, staying as silent as possible while asleep could have been a benefit … or it simply could have been balance making up for his waking habits.

A faint smile came to Sabra’s lips. Despite Nova’s checkered past, there was a surprisingly sharp and capable mind buried behind the quick quips and the rapid barbs. His manner was … unusual, at least as far as his own culture went, sometimes reminding Sabra more of a griffon than the zebras of his homeland. But at the same time, I spent much of my life in a monastery, he thought as he rolled onto his right side, trying not to suck in a breath as another shock of cold air crept between his blankets and down across his barrel. My life has not quite been what one would call “usual.”

Especially now. He opened his eyes again, taking in the crowded common room. Boxes and supplies had been stashed any place they could find space. Thankfully Sky, brilliant as she was, had accounted for such a need—it seemed that anywhere he looked there was either a cabinet or a webbed mesh waiting to hold something. Even the ceiling above their bunks was filled by shelves and more of the webbed mesh, securely clipped in place to prevent cargo from shifting, right down to the windows. As was, he knew, the space beneath each bunk as well, though that space had been given cabinet doors, securly clamped in place to prevent the contents from spilling out during violent maneuvers.

He wasn’t sure what to make out of the fact that he’d not seen one bit of their cargo shift in its place thus far despite the winds. Inside their containers and crates, yes, but outside, they remained as yet solid and immovable. Whether that was a sign that their work had simply been that good, or that they were prepared for—perhaps expecting—far worse weather was a question he’d yet to answer. And wasn’t one he wasn't certain he wished to ask.

Another gust of wind shook the ship, the bunk vibrating beneath him as the faint drone of the propellers jumped in their pitch before settling back down. This room needs more color. The thought spun across his mind unbidden. Or perhaps more soothing colors. The bland grey of the metal was the most dominant, coupled with the black covering across the floor. The eye-catching part of the room past that was the bright colors that made up the webbed mesh securing so much of their supplies. Even the lockers on the forward wall of the room were simple, finished metal.

It was Sky’s airship, yes, but it still felt incomplete. It lacked a certain … warmth. The team lockers were identical, uniform save for the single, small number plate on the face of each one. His own was the fourth, but it didn’t feel like his own.

He shifted again as the dull roar of the propellers changed once more. Beneath him he could feel the deck tilting, rolling ever so slightly to one side as The Hummingbird made another course correction. A sigh slipped free of his lips.

It is too late, he thought as the deck evened out. You’re awake. Slightly tired, but awake. In addition, there was a new, growing need from below his belly, a rising pressure that said he’d need to leave the bed before long in any case. He let out another slow breath, closed his eyes … and then threw the covers back.

The cold felt like he’d wrapped his limbs around a sculpture made of ice, sliding across his coat in a rush that took his breath away. He brought it back with a gasp, the sound quiet but sharp. Across the room he saw Nova stir, the deep-purple unicorn shifting ever so slightly, one eye cracking open only to close again almost immediately.

He shut his eyes, focusing his will inward, and his breaths began to slow back to their normal pace. The cold still cut across his coat, but he was already adjusting to the shock. Thankfully, the rubbery covering across the deck kept his hooves from making much noise, as well as from the doubtlessly cold deck metal as he made his way back—Aft—and down the hall to the ship’s small bathroom. Or as Sky, Lieutenant Hunter, and Captain Song had all called it, a “head.”

Why have a different name for the same thing? he wondered. Why not call it a bathroom?

A minute later, his ablutions finished, he trotted out of the “head,” shivers of discomfort running over his body. The only thing worse than a cold room and bed was a cold, metal toilet. He stood at the doorway to the common room for a moment, letting his eyes drift over the rest of the team. All three were still asleep. He hadn’t heard any sounds of motion from the med-bay as he’d walked past either, so it was likely that Dawn was still asleep in her bunk there.

No one else is yet awake, and I would be remiss to bother them. He took another quick look around the common room. And assembling a meal would likely create enough noise to wake somepony. He frowned as the faint hollow in his gut made itself known once again. And I’m not even certain where our food supplies are at the moment.

The Hummingbird rocked again, Sabra swaying on his hooves easily to absorb the motion. He could practice his forms … but with the rocking of the ship, that would run the risk of him being caught by surprise, making noise, and awaking the rest of the team.

I cannot eat, and I cannot practice. He frowned. Meditation? It would be difficult with the motions of the ship, but would be welcome. And the odds of bothering anypony would be low—

A faint clunk from the fore of the ship caught his ears, and he turned to see the door to the cockpit slide to one side. Sky Bolt walked out with her eyes half-shut, one wing covering her mouth as she let out a quiet yawn. He had his hoof to his lips, waving for silence, even before her yawn was over, eyes opening. They lit up as he saw him, and for a moment the cold interior of the airship didn’t seem that bad. He motioned to the rest of the team, asleep in their bunks, and she nodded, though the alert gleam didn’t leave her eyes. Instead she simply smiled at him, then nodded in the direction of the rear hallway and darted past, heading for the same room he’d just vacated.

Well, he thought as the door shut behind Sky, her tail giving as sharp snap to one side before it vanished. I could meditate … or I could wait for Sky in the cockpit.

The decision was easy. Everyone else on the team would expect him to meditate during what few morning exercises they could do. And if Sky was already awake …

He crossed the deck easily, swaying only once as the airship bucked beneath them. The early-dawn light of the cockpit—though he still wasn’t sure it was dawn, not with so many clouds obscuring the sky—was enough that he could easily make out the chair Sky sat in while she piloted the ship, as well as the bunk she’d been sleeping in on the left—Port!—side. A warm rush ran over his coat, and in surprise he looked down to see a small vent pumping heat out of the wall. It wasn’t enough to take away the chill of so much glass, but he eased himself up against it all the same, relishing the small spot of warmth it gave.

The only thing obscuring the endless grey outside the ship were the rolling blankets of white, blasts of snow in every imaginable size and shape that twisted past the windows. Far to the left—Port—he could see the faint, jagged spires of the Crystal Mountains on the horizon, clad in white—or at least he assumed it was white. It was hard to tell in the dim light and with so much snow whipping through the air. His eyes drifted away from the window and to the compass in the center of the control board, surrounded by several rings used for navigation and control.

The sound of hoofsteps crossing the rubbery decking in the common room caught his ear, and a moment later Sky Bolt stepped into the cockpit, flashing him a smile as she did so. One hoof caught the handle of the door, and a moment later it slid shut with a faint click.

“There we go,” she said, her voice low but easily audible. “Habari za asubuhi?”

“Baridi kidogo,” he replied. “Hujambo?”

“Not bad,” she said, switching to Equestrian and then hiding another yawn with one hoof as she moved past him. She paused by the control board, checking a number of readouts before dropping herself down into the pilot’s seat with a soft thump. “Kind of didn’t sleep too much last night. This is the first real test of The Hummingbird’s navigation system, so I kept an eye on it most of the night.” She motioned toward her bunk. “Take a seat.”

“I …” He rapped the vent at his back with one hoof, and Sky Bolt let out a light laugh.

“There’s one behind my bunk, too,” she said, rolling her eyes. “With the lower temperature in here, I figured it was a necessity.”

He nodded, stepping behind her chair and carefully setting himself atop her bunk, trying not to let any trepidation show in his expression. It’s just a fold-down bunk, he thought. Nothing more.

The vent along the side, however, was nice.

‘So,” she asked, one hoof coming up and folding down a flat, wide map from the ceiling. “How did you sleep?”

“In truth, my sleep wasn’t the most restful,” he said as he watched her tap several positions on the map, her eyes darting down each time to check on her instruments. As he watched, she moved several slides on the edges of the map, each movement adjusting the position of a colored marker atop the map itself.

“First time sleeping aboard an airship?” she asked without looking, her hoof coming down to tap one of the rings around the compass.

“Ndiyo,” he said, nodding. “It was a bit like trying to sleep aboard a ship,” he said, his mind flashing back on the crossing he’d undertaken from the Griffon Empire to Equestria. “Only with less … weight?” He shook his head as The Hummingbird rattled again. “Less regularity.”

“I getcha,” Sky Bolt said, finishing her adjustments and folding the map back up into the ceiling. “I remember the first time I tried to sleep aboard a boat. With the waves and the up and down?” She shook her head. “It was like sleeping on a cloud, but a whole lot slower.” She paused for a moment, cocking her head to one side before looking right at his with a grin. “‘Weighty’ is a good way to put it, I think.” She turned back to the controls and made a few more adjustments before turning her whole body in its seat to look right at him. “Hopefully it gets a bit easier with time. We might be up here for a while.”

A faint shiver crawled down his back, slow and methodical. “I shall simply have to do my best to adjust,” he said, offering her a plaintive shrug. “If time is what we have, time is what I will take.”

“Did you ever adjust on the voyage over here?”

“I did … after a time,” he said. His hungry stomach gave a faint pang at the memory of the rolling waves. “It was … not the most pleasant of journeys.”

“Oooh.” Sky leaned forward, resting her chin on one hoof. “Were you on a griffon courier ship? I hear those things are fast, but they really can roll a bit.”

“Ah … no,” he said. Rubbing the back of his head with one hoof. “It was a Plainslands cargo ship. Very wide, very stable.”

“Oh, one of those?” Sky Bolt tilted her head back. “Yeah, I’ve seen a few of those. Those are supposed to be pretty stabl—Oh.” Her eyes widened as she caught what he was implying.

He nodded. “Yes. Sea travel did not agree with me. It was … not an experience I hope to repeat.” A faint shudder of revulsion traveled through his core as he recalled the feel of the deck railing against his chest, the tightness in his stomach, and then the sight of his meal cascading into the ocean.

“Well, so far air travel doesn’t seem to disagree with you that badly,” Sky Bolt said, smiling. “Hopefully that stays true, but if not, I’m pretty sure we’ve got some metal buckets around here, since, you know, opening a window wouldn’t be the best idea.”

His expression must have soured at the thought, because she laughed again. “I know, it’s not the best option. But …”

“I doubt it will come to that,” he said, shaking his head. “Sleep will merely be a challenge until I become accustomed to the way the airship moves.” As if to emphasize his words, another gust of wind shook the vessel, spiraling flurries of snow sliding across the cockpit glass. Some, he noted, stuck to the glass and quickly melted, leaving faint tracks of water that moved like snails across it. “There is a lot to become accustomed to, being part of this team.” He turned his attention to Sky once more and gave her a smile. “But that does not mean all of it is bad.”

A soft flush came to her cheeks, alongside a smile of her own. It was a smile warmer than the vent at his back.

For a moment they were both quiet, eyes gradually turning away from one another and back to the windswept world outside the cockpit. The clouds above them, if anything, looked even thicker than when he had awoken. Then again, I do not claim to know much about weather. It simply looked wild. Almost dangerous. As if hearing his thoughts, another gust of wind rattled the airship.

“Well,” Sky Bolt said as the blast of wind faded. “I do agree with you that there’s a lot to get used to. That metal toilet seat in the bathroom …”

“Nakubali!” he said in a rush. “Ni mbaya sana!” Sky Bolt’s laughter rang through the cockpit at his outburst, even as she nodded.

“It is!” she said, the words skipping out between laughs. “It’s the worst! Like, I’m already tired and the toilet is weird, and then I sit down on it, and … Ugh!” She gave an exaggerated shiver, and he let out a laugh of his own.

“Yeah, not something I was thinking about when I had that installed,” Sky said, shaking her head. The motion made her sky-blue mane dance around her shoulders. “Then I sat down last night and …” She let out a sound somewhere between a groan and a retch of disgust, her shoulders shaking. “It’s like ice. What was I thinking?”

“I do not know,” Sabra said, still smiling and speaking around his own humor. “Why metal?”

“Eh.” She shrugged. “Most places use it. Dawn pointed out that it was easier to keep clean. Sure, she’s right, but she’s going to be the one cleaning it if any of my frozen backside ends up stuck to it.”

The snort that tore free from Sabra’s mouth surprised him almost as much as it seemed to shock Sky Bolt, who reacted, it seemed, only by laughing harder. “That would be … an unfortunate event,” he said, feeling a faint rush as his cheeks burned at the image. His words only served to amplify Sky’s laughter. He shifted on the bunk, unsure of how to react, though it had been funny.

“Thanks,” Sky said as her laugher subsided, another gust shaking The Hummingbird. “After a long night worrying about something going wrong, I needed that. Asante, Sabra.” She flashed him another smile, and again he felt a rush of warmth move through his core.

“So,” she said, her voice moving back toward seriousness. “Any luck getting that answer yet?”

“Ah … not in recent days, no.” He leaned back, resting his shoulders against the wall and watching as more trails of water made their way past the window. It was interesting the way they didn’t always move down, instead moving sideways, as if The Hummingbird and the world both were tilted. Sometimes they even moved up. “I have spoken to several philosophers and sages—professors—at Princess Celestia’s school, and all have offered insights, but all have offered so many different answers as well.”

“Well, does it have to be one answer?” Sky Bolt asked, her flame-red eyes turning to him once more. “I mean, different ponies can have different experiences, right?”

“Yes.” The answer came quickly. “But through it all, if there is a unifying element, then it is my duty to identify it, and share it with my monastery. I find lately, however, that my mind does keep coming back to the answers your Princesses gave, about …” He let his voice trail off as he noticed her staring at him, a soft smile on her face. “What?”

“Nothing,” she said. “I’m just glad to hear you’re still making progress on it.”

“I may never find it,” he replied. Sky Bolt just smiled.

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean you’ll be giving up. Or giving in to discouragement. You’re too smart for that. Besides—”

Another, larger wind shear struck The Hummingbird, Sabra’s stomach leaping as the aircraft dropped and then rose several feet. A muffled thump followed by a faint exclamation of surprise from through the wall suggested that the rest of the passengers—or at least one of them—had found the sudden drop jarring.

“Besides,” Sky Bolt continued, turning her attention to the control board once more, hooves darting over the controls. “You’ll find it.” She shot him a quick smile, then returned her attention to the board once more. “I’m sure of it.”

“Asante,” he said again, smiling. Her answer felt … right. In a way he couldn’t describe. “Asante.”

“Not a problem,” Sky Bolt said. “Unlike these wind shears …” She went silent as the door to the rear of the airship slid open, Captain Song stepping though. She waited until he’d shut the door behind him once more to speak. “Captain.”

“Captain Song,” Sabra said, giving his head a slight bow.

“Corporal Bolt, Specialist Sabra,” the captain replied, giving them each a faint nod of the head. “Difficulties sleeping, I gather?”

Sky Bolt nodded. “I had to be up every half-hour to make sure everything was running all right, anyway.”

“The movement of the airship is hard to get used to,” Sabra added as the captain turned in his direction. “I awoke not long ago, and when I found Sky Bolt was awake, determined to keep her company in the cockpit.”

“I see,” Captain Song said, nodding as he looked out the cockpit glass. “That’s quite the cloud cover.”

“It is,” Sky agreed, reaching up and folding down one of the maps she’d used earlier. “Worse, it’s out of season.”

“Out of season?”

Sabra’s ears perked at the captain’s question. Sky hadn’t mentioned this earlier. Though in fairness, I did not ask.

“Yeah,” Sky said, reaching up and pulling a plastic overlay down over the map. Its bottom edge snapped into place with a faint, metallic click. “Look.”

Magnets, Sabra realized as Sky pulled her hoof back. Quite ingenious. The overlay was showing a chorus of colored arrows sweeping across the map, arrows that meant little to him, but clearly meant something to the animated pegasus.

“See these wind patterns?” Sky said, tapping one of the colored lines on the map. “This is what we’re supposed to be flying in at this time of year. Lots of steady, solid winds from the southwest. Instead …” She pointed out the cockpit glass, off to the left. “We’re getting gusts from the northwest.”

“Now sure,” she said, tapping the map once more. “This area isn’t that well-monitored. And we could just be seeing the tail-end of some storm. But the weather teams generally do a good job keeping tabs on weather outside Equestrian territory or even just in fringe locations like this one because it’s all interconnected. The weather we’re getting right now?” She shook her head. “Not normal for this season.”

“I see.” The captain frowned. “Any ideas?”

Sky shrugged. “Like I said, could be the tail-end of some storm. It doesn’t feel like that though. Storm leftovers would have faded by now, but this almost feels like it’s getting worse.”

“Could it have something to do with this empire returning?” Sabra asked.

“It’s possible,” Sky said, glancing at him. “I mean, an empire vanishing and then reappearing would wreak havoc with local weather patterns. Then again, depending on the spell it might not.”

“Magic turbulence?” Captain Song suggested. “It could be from the spell coming apart. There might be a lot of ambient, wild magic breaking off. That could explain it.”

“It might. You’d have to ask Dawn. She might know more about that than I would. But I guess …” She paused for a moment. “Yeah, when the battery crystals on Radiant’s golems broke and the spell unraveled, they let out quite a bang … How much energy went into sealing this place?”

All three of them looked at one another. It was the captain that broke the silence. “I’ll speak with Dawn about it as soon as she arises. In the meantime … Sabra?”

Sabra snapped up straight. “Yes sir?”

“Let’s let Sky Bolt get back to keeping this thing on course. We are on course, aren’t we?” His eyes flicked back to Sky.

“Pretty much,” came Sky’s reply as she tapped the map once more. “We arrived on the edge of the zone you indicated last night.” Her hoof brushed the marker she’d moved earlier atop the map. “And we’ve been holding roughly steady in that area. I wasn’t sure if you wanted to go further in, so we’ve basically been holding a slow, steady northward run without covering much ground.”

“For now, just hold steady,” Captain Song replied. “We’ll set up a more back-and-forth patrol later, after our morning meeting.” He paused for a moment. “You’re still good with what I suggested last night, correct?”

Sabra’s ear flicked. Am I overhearing something I shouldn’t? He batted the errant thought away. Captain Song tended to be fairly precise with his actions. If it had been important that he not hear, the captain wouldn’t have spoken.

“I can handle it,” Sky said, giving the captain a quick salute. “Bring it on!”

“All right,” Captain Song replied with a smile. “Then keep at it. I’ll have somepony bring you your breakfast. Sabra? You’re with me. Let’s go see what kind of meal we can rustle up.”

“Ndiyo bwana.” He hopped down from the bunk, a shiver running down his back as his hindquarters left the warmth of the heating vent. He shot Sky a quick smile and a nod, which she returned, and then he followed the captain out into the common room.

Breakfast was, surprisingly, better than he’d expected. Once out in the common room, the captain had gone to work with barely a word, folding down the small table and stove—he’d called it a “galley station”—and put Sabra to work almost immediately chopping fresh apples he retrieved from one of the nearby boxes of supplies. The stove soon was home to a pan full of shredded potatoes—pre-shredded, Sabra was glad to see. Slicing the apples was more difficult than expected thanks to the constant motions of The Hummingbird. Before long, the sizzling sound of frying potatoes filled the common room, a higher-pitched crackle beside the lower drone of the propellers. A deep, rich scent came with it, one that brought a renewed reminder from his stomach of his hunger … One which he temporarily sated with a few slices of apple that he’d managed to cut rather poorly.

The other members of the team stirred at last, Hunter quieting as he shifted to wakefulness, at least until his sniffing nose caught the scent of the potatoes, at which point the pegasus seemed to come to full alertness. Nova, on the other hoof, simply rolled over until Captain Song tapped the side of his bunk and barked a quick “Up and at ‘em, private.”

Sabra returned his attention to slicing the last few apples as Nova rolled out of his bunk, his eyes half-shut and his hoofsteps unsteady. If not for how quickly he’d seen the unicorn spring to alertness before, he almost would have bought it. As it was, he simply chose to smile and offer a polite “Good morning” as the stallion passed.

“Morning …” Nova mumbled, rubbing one hoof through his mane. Then he yawned again. It looked … genuine.

One never can tell with him, Sabra thought as he went back to cutting the apples. Hunter sauntered over, took a sniff, and then snatched a few slices from the pile.

“Morning, Sabra,” he said, speaking through a mouth full of apple slices. “How’d you—?”

A sudden “Yipe!” sounded out from down the hall, and Hunter paused, lifting one brow.

“Metal toilet seat,” Sabra said, Hunter’s look of confusion morphing into an amused smile.

“Good to know,” he said, casually letting his head dart down and swipe another apple slice. “Well, I think I’ll wait until he’s warmed it for me.” He winked as if that had been his plan all along, and then sauntered down the hall.

It only took a few minutes more for the rest of the breakfast to come together. Before long, the whole team was standing around the common room’s central table, the hot breakfast steaming in the center as Nova floated out small metal trays and utensils for everyone.

“All right, team,” Captain Song said. “In the interest of time management, we’re going to hold our morning meeting while we eat. So everypony grab a tray and dish up. Hunter, you and Sky have clean-up detail, provided she checks our course occasionally. We’ve got plenty to discuss, and plenty to keep us busy until this Crystal Empire makes its comeback. But like I said, food, so everypony dish up.”

Sabra waited as the clatter of trays and utensils filled the air. The table was decently large, but not so large that none of them could reach the food at its center. Dawn had the easiest time of it, simply using her magic to levitate her tray over to the food and portion out what she wished, while Nova went for a more direct, hooves-on approach. Still, there were only six of them, and before long each of their trays were filled.

“All right,” Steel said once each member of the team had dug in. “So, first up, and most important: we need to parcel out Sky Bolt’s mods beforehand.”

“Mods?” Nova perked up, his ears standing tall, all traces of sleep vanishing from his face. “We have enough now?”

“Yup!” Sky Bolt said, grinning. Somehow, she’d already managed to get a splotch of ketchup on her cheek. “I actually have six fully-operational mods at this time. All different.”

“Which is why we need to talk about them,” Steel said. “While the eventual goal is for our team to be able to swap them out as needed for our assignments, with each of these being new to most of us, for this mission we’re going to pick one and stick with it unless otherwise necessary.”

Sabra nodded. It made sense. After all, his own attempts at using the strength mod Sky had built for him to demonstrate as a proof-of-concept had been clumsy at first. Even figuring out how to use it had been a challenge in and of itself.

“So what do we have?” Hunter asked. “What are our options?”

“There are eight total,” Sky Bolt said. “And I brought all of them with us. One’s still a little experimental, though, and doesn’t quite work the way I wanted, while the other is more a test for cold weather gear—”

Sabra’s ears twitched as he straightened. “Cold weather gear?” he asked. If there’s something that could make this cold a little more bearable …

“Uh, yeah,” Sky replied. “It’s kind of still in the testing phases—I was kind of counting on having until winter arrived. But it’s a thermal regulator combined with a heating spell—”

“I claim it,” Sabra said, throwing his hoof into the air. When no one challenged his words, he repeated them again. “I claim the thermal mod.”

“But … you tested the strength mod.” Sky had a look of surprise on her face. “You’re the one that’s used to it.”

“I am,” he agreed, giving her a nod. “But I can explain its use to somepony else. I would like the thermal mod.”

The captain let out a dull rumble, clearing his throat. “Let’s let Sky Bolt finish her list before we jump to assigning anything. Corporal?”

“Captain,” Sky said, though her eyes flicked back to Sabra before she continued. He could see the confusion and surprise in them.

If you knew how cold I was, you would not be surprised, he thought. And that is inside your marvelous airship. His eyes flicked to the wind-swept snows visible through the side windows, spiraling past the airship with each gust of wind. And it’s only going to become colder the moment I step outside.

“Anyway,” Sky Bolt said, her momentum coming back. “I did bring the thermal regulator, but it’s nothing impressive yet. Just a low-level heat spell that can be activated occasionally, plus some exterior improvements—minor ones—that help the suit regulate its occupant’s body heat a little better. Like I said, a work in progress.”

“The other one I brought that isn’t quite up par yet is a detection mod. If you’re familiar with magic-detection, it operates on the same principles as a magic detection spell.”

“With some of the same drawbacks, I’d imagine?” Nova asked.

“Worse, actually,” Sky Bolt admitted with a grimace. “Like I said, testing. It lets you see magic, so a non-unicorn can use it. But in return …”

“Any magic users know where you are?”

“Worse,” Sky said, shaking her head. “The spell activates with a very visual flash. So not just magic users. Like I said, still in testing phases, but I brought it along just in case.”

“What about working mods?” Captain Song asked. “Ones that have passed inspection?”

“Right, right,” Sky said, giving the captain a quick nod. “We have six. So, one for each of us. All different. We’ve got the strength mod, which Sabra used. When activated by loyalty, your strength, and to a degree your resilience, are enhanced to high levels. Those of you who saw or heard about the test know about it. Sabra—” She shot him a quick smile. “—climbed a thirty-foot building in a single leap during the demonstration.”

A few members of the team turned his way and nodded. He returned the gesture but stayed silent.

“We also have the speed mod,” Sky said, pausing to take a quick bite before continuing, speaking around the hash browns in her mouth. “Like the strength mod, it’s exactly what it sounds like. Works off of laughter and good humor. Casts a high-speed spell on you for a brief moment. Your perception doesn’t quite speed up to compensate, and it’s short-term, but you can really move when it’s active. Past that …”

She swallowed. “Then we have the barrier shield mod, or as some like calling it, the bubble. It drops an impassable barrier of a variable diameter around the user that lasts a good thirty seconds or so, depending on how much punishment it has to absorb. The recharge time is lengthy though, almost five minutes. Standard safety modifiers apply, so it won’t cut anypony in half. It’s tricky to get it to work, but it seems to work off of giving. The spirit of generosity, apparently.”

“In line with that, we’ve got a phalanx shield mod as well,” she continued. “Rather than a bubble, it’s a directional ‘wall’ that appears in front of whatever direction you happen to have your body facing. Pretty sturdy, shorter recharge than the barrier, and it can move with you. Shorter duration too. It’s hard to use, though. You have to conceptualize honesty for it to work—”

“Right, I’ve read the reports, and I’m sort of familiar with the concept,” Hunter said, speaking up. “But honesty, generosity, humor? That’s emotional magic, right? I’m not a unicorn.”

“Right,” Sky said, nodding. “It’s the same principle still. The spells we’re using need an emotional component to work. And that’s something we can’t replicate through a crystal. It has to come from the user. The magic part of it—the mod can handle that. But in order to activate the spell, the mod needs that catalyst.”

“Luckily for us,” Sky continued, looking around the table. “Each of us has emotions. Combined with our own, innate magic, it’s more than enough to act as the catalyst the spell needs. If it helps, think of it like the mod uses your own magic and emotions as a starting point to make the rest work. Which is why Sabra could make the strength mod work, even though he’s not a unicorn.” She flashed him another smile. “As long as he was holding something in mind that made him feel loyal, the emotional catalyst the spell needed, the mod worked.”

“Right,” Hunter said. “So what counts as ‘loyalty’ then?”

“You’ve been skimming the reports, haven’t you?” Captain Song asked, his attention shifting to the tan lieutenant.

“Absolutely,” Hunter said, throwing an exasperated look at Steel. “With the amount of paperwork that keeps coming across my desk, it’s the only way to have some free time. I’m still getting that logistics chain set up, remember.”

“Fair enough.” The captain turned his gaze back to Sky Bolt, the brief aside over. “Continue, corporal.”

“Yeah, well … basically, you have to discover that for yourself. Now that we know what we’re looking for, and thanks to a little help from Nova—”

“And Princess Luna,” Nova cut in.

“Right, and Princess Luna,” Sky filled in without missing a beat. “We know what emotion triggers each mod, and I’ve personally tested each one, so I can verify that they work. The trick is finding what brings that emotion out in you, personally. Especially when you’re in the middle of dealing with a bunch of other distractions. But whatever brings that emotion, that feeling, to the front … It’s not going to be the same for me as it is for somepony like Sabra. Or Dawn.”

“Gotcha,” Hunter replied, a thoughtful look on his face. “Hence the practice.”

“Right,” Sky said. “And the reason Steel—sorry, Captain Song wants each of us to stick with just one for this operation. It’ll be hard enough getting used to bringing up one emotion or feeling when we’re in the middle of a mission. Swapping out mods on top of that …” She lifted one hoof, shaking it back and forth in the air. “Yeah, no.”

“I see.” Dawn leaned forward, adding her own voice to the mix. “So you’ve given us four of the six. What are the other two?”

“Right!” Sky Bolt said, clapping her front hooves together. “The last two I’m particularly proud of. One’s a utility spell. Spider’s cling?” Her gaze darted around the table. “Any guesses?”

“Climb as a spider does?” Sabra offered, and she rewarded him with a quick grin, her wings folding out ever so slightly.

“That’s it! Unicorns in construction use it all the time. It’s a loyalty-based enchantment that allows your hooves to cling to surfaces like a gecko or a spider. It doesn’t alter gravity’s pull or anything, so you still have to deal with that, but while the spell is active, you can basically stick to just about any surface. It’s a low-cost spell, too, so the mod can keep it going for quite a while. The more you move, the faster it drains, but if you just stand—well, hang—in place, you can stay there for about two minutes before it wears off.”

“Interesting,” Captain Song said, leaning forward. “I must have missed the report on this one.”

“Nope.” Sky shook her head. “You haven’t gotten one yet. I didn’t get this one done until yester—uh, two days ago. But I tested it, and it worked under a variety of conditions, so I brought it along.”

The captain nodded. “And the final mod?” Sky Bolt grinned, and suddenly Sabra had the impression that she’d saved the “best for last,” according to the popular Equestrian expression.

“The last one,” she said, leaning forward and rubbing her front hooves together, wings extended back in a position of readiness. “I call the supercharger.” She waited for a moment, letting the name sink in.

“So what does it—?”

“I’m glad you asked!” Sky said, rounding on Nova. “I had the idea a few months ago, when I was working on your helmet, but it wasn’t until last week that I really could find the time to test it out. Well, and got the crystal delivered, but that’s beside the point.”

She turned back to the rest of the table. “Basically, the supercharger is a magic enhancer.”

“Like an amplifying effect?” Dawn asked, a look of interest clearly on her face as she leaned forward.

“Sort of. But not quite,” Sky replied. “While an amplifier—at least the ones like we have in our armor—helps channel things, the supercharger mod basically acts as a battery to dump more magic into whatever you do.”

“I understand,” Dawn said, leaning back. “So it allows you to ‘supercharge’ whatever spell or magic is being cast by dumping the magic in the mod’s battery crystal into the spell as well.”

“Exactly! Whatever spell you cast, the mod basically acts as a battery reservoir of magic that adds its power to your own, allowing you to put out greater amounts of magical power at once. Granted, there’s a hard limit, but …”

“And you’ve tested this?” Dawn asked. “I have not heard of it, nor does Nova appear to have.”

“That’s because you weren’t the ones that tested it,” Sky said, grinning. “You were both busy, and I was in a hurry, so I had the armor crew and a couple of Royal Guard give it a shot with a few prototype test suits. It works.”

“Interesting …” Dawn leaned forward, pressing her breakfast—mostly apple slices—to one side with a soft tap of a hoof. “If possible, I think I’d be interested in laying claim to that mod, at least for the duration of this operation.”

“Really?” Sky Bolt sat back, a hint of confusion on her face. “I was actually thinking it’d be best for Nova, since he’s kind of the big spellcaster of the group.”

“Exactly.” The doctor’s reply was curt and crisp. “Nova already amasses the largest concentration of magical power among the six of us. Unless I misheard, this supercharger mod does not scale with regards to its user’s power, correct?”

“No …”

“Which means it would provide a much smaller boost for Nova than it would for someone of more average magical capacity, such as myself,” Dawn said. “The amount of power it adds is fixed.”

Sabra nodded, taking another bite of his breakfast. He’d almost forgotten about it. The surface had gone cold, but the interior was still warm. “Dawn’s words make sense,” he said as soon as he’d swallowed the small bite. “A bucket of water makes a larger difference to a pond than it does a lake.”

“An apt analogy,” Dawn said, nodding in his direction. “Thank you, Sabra.”

“Karibu.”

“In addition to that reasoning,” Dawn continued, “unicorn magic is the most readily versatile. While I don’t doubt that Captain Song, yourself, or Hunter could make use of such a mod, such usage would be limited to far more specific applications.”

“She’s spot on,” Hunter said, adding his voice to the mix. “I like the idea, I really do, but …” He shrugged. “Unicorn magic has the versatility angle. Dawn is the best choice.”

“I agree.” Captain Song’s own stern voice rolled through the interior. “The reasoning is sound. Any objections, corporal?” Sky Bolt shook her head.

“Very well then.” The captain turned to Dawn. “It’s yours. Get used to using it as quickly as possible.”

Dawn nodded. “I can manage that. Provided I know what emotion I need to exemplify.”

“Ah … Magic?” Sky Bolt shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine, but that’s what I’ve got.”

“Ah. A very particular and difficult feeling,” Dawn replied. “But I shall manage.”

“That’s one,” Hunter said. “Unless anyone objects, I’d actually like to try that magic pulse mod you were talking about.”

“Really?” Sky seemed surprised. “It’s not the greatest yet.”

“Yeah, but seeing magic, considering what we’re about to go up against? It complements my tracking, and I can get up high and get a good view of things.”

“It does have a maximum range,” Sky said quickly. “Think of it like … a sphere, extending in all directions around you. And while it makes you a target, it won’t highlight magic for anyone else.”

“Hmm … that could go wonky … But I’ll take it anyway. It’s that or that spider-cling spell, and I can already fly.” He fanned his wings twice, as if to remind the team.

“All right …” Sky said, though Sabra could hear the concern in her voice.

It is a … His mind struggled for the word. Prototype? Yes, prototype. Untested compared to her other, more complete mods. And Sky Bolt didn’t like letting untested things out of her workshop.

Though in this case, she tested it enough to bring along. It was probably more, then, that it hadn’t performed the way she’d wanted it to.

“Okay, that’s two,” Sky said, her eyes moving across the rest of the table. “What about—?”

“I would like again to request the thermal mod,” Sabra said.

“Are you sure?” It only took a second for Sky Bolt to reply, but he could hear the hesitation in her voice. “After all, you’re the most experienced with the strength mod, so—”

“Just let him take both,” Nova said, rolling his eyes. “Come on, Bolt, it’s freezing out there, and Sabra is from the Plainslands. Besides, you can swap mods, right? That was how these things were made.”

“Yes, you can, though they’re designed to drop their charge when not attached to a suit—a safety feature. So it’d have to recharge.”

Nova shrugged. “So? He can pop the strength mod in when he needs it, and the rest of the time he can use the thermal mod. Like you said, he already knows how to use the strength mod, so it’s not going to impair his capabilities on the mission.”

“Those are valid points, Nova,” Captain Song said. “Well thought-out.”

“Yes.” Sabra gave the unicorn a quick nod of thanks. “I agree.” He brought his eyes to Sky Bolt once more. “Would that work?”

Sky hesitated, rubbing at her cheek with one hoof. “I guess …” she said. “You wouldn’t be able to swap them out on a moment’s notice, but if you planned ahead … and as long as you didn’t lose track of one of them … Okay.”

“But!” she said, her sharp tone cutting off his thanks before he could speak. Her red eyes stared into his own, red fires beneath the blue sky of her mane. “It is a prototype. When the mission is over, I expect a full report on how it functioned. A complete breakdown, as detailed as you can make it.” At some point, she’d leaned forward, half her body across the table. “I need everything.”

“Everything, huh?” Nova’s voice pulled Sky up short. “You kind of look like you’re planning on getting it right—”

Sky Bolt snapped back into her seat, cheeks flushed, even as Captain Song let out a stern cough.

“Right, right,” Nova said. “Extra exercises today. The usual.”

“Double ‘em,” Steel said. “As for the terms, are they acceptable, Specialist Sabra?”

He nodded. “Of course. I will make sure to detail any observations I have about the performance of the mod.” I might even suit up and try it out as soon as this meeting is over.

“Then it’s settled. You’ll take two.” Captain Song turned back to Sky Bolt. “As for myself, I think I’ll try that barrier. That’s the bubble-shaped one, correct?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s the one I want. Which just leaves you and Nova,”

“I’ll take the other shield, actually,” Nova said with a quick shrug. “I’ve got the crescent shield down, sure,” he said with a pointed look at the captain. “But I can think of plenty of uses for having two shields at once I can call on. Besides,” he said, one ear flicking as he leaned back and looked at Sky. “Bolt is more familiar with the speed mod, as she said. So rather than having both of us working to get used to a new mod, she can stay with the one she’s familiar with. And unless I miss my guess, that’ll leave us with one pony on each team that will be familiar with the mod they’re using.”

“That sounds pretty well-reasoned,” Captain Song said. “Mind explaining how that leaves a pony on each team with mod experience?”

Nova shrugged. “Didn’t take much. You said yesterday we’d be dividing into two teams. One team goes to secure the city, the other to hunt this ‘King Sombra’ shade. Whichever team goes to do that needs to take The Hummingbird. Which Bolt is the only pilot of.”

“Of course,” he continued, a smug smile on his muzzle. “That team will also be tracking somepony … well, something anyway. So Hunter needs to go. And since this ‘Sombra’ was a magical powerhouse, and him getting that power back is one of the big worries, you’re obviously going to want someone with magical talent on the team. That leaves myself and Dawn. But Dawn is the team doctor, and one team is going into a city that was ruled over by a despot. With a bunch of medical supplies.”

His grin widened as he leaned back, floating a forkful of hash browns up in his magic. “So myself, Sky Bolt, and Hunter are making up the tracking team, while you, Dawn, and Sabra are the city team. How’s that?”

Captain Song was silent for a moment, his eyes locked on Nova as if he were examining the unicorn, his gaze stripping away flesh and bone to look at the soul beneath. Then he nodded. “Well put, spec. I’m impressed. That was well-reasoned, and furthermore entirely accurate.”

Hunter nodded. “You brought up the same points Steel and I did last night when we were hashing this out. I mean, sure, there’s only six of us, but still. Onya.”

“Careful, specialist,” Dawn said as Nova just grinned. “That’s how one gets promoted.”

“Yeah, no worries about that happening,” Nova said with a shake of his mane. “Convict, remember? I’m a specialist for good.”

“Back on topic,” Captain Song said, rapping his hoof on the table. “Sky Bolt needs to get back to charting our new route, and we all have work to do. But the two teams, as Nova discerned, stand. I’ll lead the city team, with Dawn and Sabra. Our objective will be to secure the city and provide temporary relief for the citizens as well as dismantle any controlling elements left by Sombra. Hunter’s team will have Nova and Sky Bolt, as well as The Hummingbird. Which brings us to another issue.”

“Starting today,” he said. “First Lieutenant Hunter will be the first of us to begin training with Sky Bolt on how to fly The Hummingbird. Since one of them will need to come pick us up once the city is secured, having two ponies who can fly our transportation will be much better than one. This practice will be separate from the team practices we’ll be doing later today, practicing rapid drops and exercises in this area. This means yes,” he said, looking around the table. “We will be going outside today for exercises.”

“But that doesn’t mean we’re going to be resting in here while we wait. We’ve got plenty to do. We secured most of our cargo; now we need to organize it. Get it ready for a fast deployment. We need to make sure our gear is ready to go at a moment’s notice. We need to sort through our supplies and make sure everything is where it needs to be.”

“In addition,” he added. “We still need to tend to personal exercises as best we can. I know the space is cramped, so we’ll do it in shifts.” He turned. “Corporal Bolt, if you can, keep an eye on the weather conditions. Let me know if it’s worsening or getting better. Also, once we’re roughly around the area the Princesses indicated, set us in a circling patrol over the area. Can the autopilot handle that?”

“It’s tricky …” Sky said, grinning. “But you wanted the best, and The Hummingbird is! It’ll manage just fine.”

“Good. Finish your breakfast and get to it. The rest of you, you either already know what you need to do, or you’ll be grabbed by a senior officer that does. For now, we’re going to focus on being as ready as we can be before the Crystal Empire arrives. It could happen tonight, or it could happen next week. We’ve no way of knowing. Any questions?”

“I have one,” Sabra said, speaking up. “Last night you said that Captain Armor and Princess Cadance would be arriving based on our signal. Will that be before or after the city appears? And if after, how will they know?”

“Good questions.” Captain Song gave him a nod. “While we were taking the direct route here, the Princesses loaded up a train full of Royal and Night Guard to secure the northern rail line. Their mission was to head along it and drop a team every twenty miles or so, at the nearest high ground. They’re probably in place now, or close to it. The last team will wait at the end of the line. The moment the city appears, we’ll fire off a powerful signal flare. The lieutenant mentioned it last night, as you may recall. The team at the end of the rail will see it, and send a signal further back. From there, it’ll make its way to Canterlot, and Captain Armor and Princess Cadence will be sent on their way, while we make ready for their arrival. That answer your question?”

He nodded. “Naelewa. It does.” I pray our flare is bright enough to pierce these clouds. Outside the windows, the grey shapes continued to spool through the sky.

“Good.” Captain Song rapped his hoof against the tabletop. “Then everypony finish up eating, and let’s get to it.” The Hummingbird rattled again as a gust of wind slammed against it.

“We’ve got plenty to do.”

Chapter 3

View Online

Alright Hunter, he told himself as the control yokes jerked in his hooves. You’ve got this. Nice and easy, just like she said.

“Nice and easy.” Sky Bolt’s voice echoed at his side again. He didn’t bother to look. His eyes were fixed on the instruments in front of him, pressure dials and power readouts, all dancing as The Hummingbird powered forward through the sky. An increasingly aggro’d sky.

One that seemed less and less welcoming by the minute.

Nice and easy, he thought, his eyes darting to the most important instrument of all on the console: The compass. He eyed their heading, checking first the current reading and then those on the various rings around the device. Not long now, he thought, eyes darting to the fold-down map in the upper right corner of his vision. Sky Bolt had helpfully charted their course for him atop one of the covers. All he needed to do was follow that and keep the ship steady, and—

Another gust of wind struck The Hummingbird, the aircraft shaking and skittering slightly to the side. He tightened his grip on the yokes, hooves locking down. He could feel his wings twitching, trying to react to the sudden motion and “correct” their course. Naturally, if he did that, all he’d accomplish would be looking foolish. And maybe smacking the muzzle of his teacher with an outstretched wing.

“Relax,” Sky Bolt said from beside him. “This isn’t some early-model airship. The controls have safeties into them. They resist external force, prioritizing force from the yokes. Just keep a steady hoof.”

“Right.” He nodded, eyeing the sky ahead of them and the compass with alternating glances. We really should have started one of us on this earlier, he thought as he watched the compass heading sway once more, The Hummingbird’s course once again sliding with the wind. Then again, this thing’s been under construction until just recently, and with everything else that’s been going on, plus the chaos of getting a unit like ours supported …

Should have, would have, oh well, he thought, one of his father’s old sayings leaping to mind. Now there’s nothing left but to make do.

He checked the compass heading again. The heavy dial had eased slightly to the right from the indicator he’d marked with one of the rings. Another degree or two and—

“Check.”

Sky Bolt’s single word almost made him jump. I was checking, wasn’t I? He bent down closer, eyeing the compass reading. Was it the wind? The heading was swaying, but not that badly. The device was rocking in its cradle, staying as level as possible with each shake of the ship, but he didn’t think the heading was that off …

“Check.”

Crikey. He’d definitely made a blue if she’d repeated herself twice. It couldn’t be their heading. Was it one of the other dials? Had his tension thrown something off? His eyes darted over the control board, rapidly snapping from dial to dial. Airspeed … fine. Pitch … fine. How can something I do so naturally require so many complex readings?

“Relax,” Sky Bolt said, and she shifted, leaning forward and more fully into his field of vision. “Altimeter.” She tapped the small indicator. He turned to look at it, and as he watched, the number flipped down once more.

He let out an exasperated sigh. “How?”

“Well, for starters, it doesn’t have a setting next to it to notify you what your altitude was,” Sky Bolt said. “Just an autopilot setting. And since we’re not using that …”

Hunter nodded. “I forgot what out altitude was supposed to be, and lost track.”

“In your defense, we are flying through some pretty disagreeable weather. With all the pressure fronts and wind shifts, I wouldn’t exactly call this an easy training. Usually if you’re going to hand someone the yokes of an airship, you do it under a clear sky so they can get the feel for it. For somepony who’s being asked to pilot one through … Well, whatever this weather is—” She waved a hoof at the spinning snow scything past the airship windows. “You’re doing just fine for a first time.” She paused, settling her haunches back on the fold-down bunk she’d been using as an extra seat while he piloted the airship. “So, you think you can get her back to the proper altitude?”

He glanced down at the controls, trying to remember the crash course she’d given him at the start of the whole exercise. Also, I really don’t like the name “crash course.”

“Relax,” Sky Bolt repeated. “Just think of it like the opposite of you teaching me Tempest and Hurricane. You show me something, I mess it up, you correct, I get better.”

“Is that really the best comparison?” he asked as his eyes searched the control board. There had been multiple ways to make the adjustment, if he was remembering correctly. He needed the one that kept the airship the most stable. “I mean, if you do something wrong there, you just go off balance or something. If I do something wrong here, I risk plowing this thing into the ground.”

“Hah! Like I’d let you do that to my baby,” Sky Bolt said, though a quick glance in her direction showed that her wings had lifted slightly in a defensive manner. “That’s why we were at the altitude I set. Which was …?”

“Um …” He glanced at the dial. I’m pretty sure that we’re lower than we’re supposed to be, so the starting number must have been higher. So … “Thirty-five hundred feet?”

“You’re guessing, but you’re correct,” Sky Bolt replied, and his stomach dropped.

Right now we’re hovering right around three thousand. How’d I manage to lose five-hundred—?

“Relax, Hunter.” Sky Bolt leaned forward once more. “You’re still three thousand feet above plowing into a snowbank somewhere. We’re over the frozen plains, a few dozen miles south of running into a mountain. So just move her back to the proper altitude and you’ll be fine.”

"I’ll be fine," she says. I feel like I’m about to make everything go sideways. He ran his eyes over the controls again. I really wish she’d let me watch a while before jumping to hooves-on training.

Granted, he thought as he reached the end of the control board and started over. If she had, you’d probably just have ended up chinwagging and not paid the slightest attention to what she was doing. But at least you wouldn’t be trying to square the—

“So how’s Thistle?”

“Eh?” The question jerked his attention away from the control board. Sky Bolt was looking at him with a wide-eyed, expectant look on her face.

“You were gone all day yesterday,” Sky Bolt said, leaning forward slightly and turning her head so she could give him a knowing stare. “It was your day off, and you have been seeing Thistle a lot, especially since she broke up with her last coltfriend …”

“How do you know about that?” he asked, jerking his eyes back to the controls. Which one was it!?

“Uh … duh, you talk. And I’m pretty sure Dawn’s been keeping tabs on it just because that’s sort of her job?” The last bit of her statement stretched into a question, as if she wasn’t positive that was what Dawn was supposed to do, but at the same time wasn’t really questioning it. “But anyway, you took yesterday off, so …”

She doesn’t know, Hunter thought as his chest let out a subdued pang. Either that, or she hasn’t connected the dots. “I uh, didn’t take the day off to see Thistle. She was working anyway.” Please don’t ask further, please don’t ask …

It wasn’t entirely a lie. He had seen Thistle. When she’d followed him to Swift’s grave. And that wasn’t something he wanted to share with Sky Bolt, as friendly as the young pegasus was. That was … private. And hey! There it is! He tapped a control with one hoof, watching and waiting expectantly. After a few moments, he felt the telltale heaviness settle against his body, and the altimeter began to rise.

“Hey, nice job,” Sky Bolt said. “And now—”

“Check the heading,” he said, nodding and looking down at the compass once more. A glance at the number Sky Bolt had written atop the map told him that he was almost just on the edge of going too far, and he turned the yokes to one side, The Hummingbird going into a gentle turn. The navigational tools were different than the ones he’d been trained to use in the Rangers, but they followed the same principles.

“Good,” Sky Bolt said. “See? I told you that you just needed to relax.”

Get my mind off of one thing, maybe, he thought as he adjusted one of the dials around the compass. But relaxing that wasn’t.

“Anyway, you’re almost at the end of this section of the loop. You want me to take over, call it a break for now?”

“Oh yes please,” he said, sinking back and letting go of the controls and moving to slide out of the seat. “I would like nothing better.”

“Hang on.” Sky Bolt held a hoof out in front of his chest, blocking him from leaving the seat. “Before you leave, you need to engage the autopilot. The Hummingbird isn’t going to let a gust of wind throw her rudder or flaps out of alignment, but if you don’t set the autopilot, she won’t notice if she ends up facing the other way either.”

“Right.” He nodded. Autopilot … autopilot … autopilot … There! A switch sat to one side of the compass, helpfully labeled. Manual … automatic … weather?

“Weather,” Sky Bolt said, as if sensing the reason for his hesitation. “It accounts for gusts and inclement elements, focusing on averaging out readings over time rather than making by-the-minute corrections.”

“That’s …” He looked out the cockpit glass. “Pretty impressive.”

“Yeah,” Sky Bolt said, motioning for him to move. “And really expensive.”

“Good thing we have a budget, then,” Hunter said as he stared out the glass. The Crystal Mountains were off to their right now, The Hummingbird on an almost easterly course. Below them stretched the frozen plains of the northern end of Equestria: a flat, white tundra shrouded in snow.

“It’s pretty bleak, isn’t it?” Sky Bolt asked, matching his gaze as she moved back into the pilot’s seat.

He nodded. "I can’t imagine who’d live up here. Or why.”

“People live on the Ocean. Ponies, griffons, minotaurs …”

“Yeah, but that makes sense. The Ocean is a source of ethereal crystal. This?” He waved a wing at the wide expanse of white outside the windows. “It’s just … nothingness. Their city must have looked like an icicle.”

“Hey, they made it work,” Sky Bolt said, glancing at the map and then folding it back out of sight. “I’m pretty curious to see what it looked like myself. What sort of insulation materials did they use? And crystal ponies? What did they look like?”

“We’ll find out, I guess,” Hunter replied before glancing at the door. “So … am I good to go?”

“Yeah,” Sky Bolt said, her eyes back on the controls once more. “That’s enough for today. We’ll do a little more tomorrow. For now, you should probably get suited up. Just in case something does happen.”

“Right.” Sky Bolt had grabbed him as soon as breakfast had been over, so there hadn’t been time to get changed. And given our team would be taking the airship … “Hey, how do we go about cleaning our suits? Mine’s got a funky odor.”

“Dawn has a cleansing and sterilization spell,” Sky Bolt said. “Were you practicing with the armor the last time the cleaning crew came through?”

“Three days ago?” he asked.

“You were. Take it to Dawn. She’ll clean it up, though she might give you flak for it.”

She probably would. “Thanks. And thanks for the lesson.”

“Not a problem,” Sky said, snapping the autopilot off and adjusting the airship’s altitude controls. He felt the deck press against him once more, The Hummingbird rising closer to the dark grey storm of clouds above. “If Nova’s free, it wouldn’t hurt to send him in here.”

“I can check,” he said, putting a hoof on the cockpit door. “Anything I should let Steel know about the weather?”

“Only that it’s getting worse,” Sky Bolt said with a shake of her blue mane. “I can’t make sense of it, either. It’s not acting like it should. Granted, I’m not about to go flying out in it to take readings, but it feels like it should be getting weaker, when instead—”

A dull rumble echoed through the cockpit, distant but deep. Hunter’s ears flicked. He knew that sound. Sky Bolt did as well, judging from her expression. “It’s getting worse,” he said. “If that thunder rumbling was any sign.”

“Yeah,” Sky Bolt said. “I really hope it is something to do with that empire coming back, because that would suggest it’d burn out once it is back. If not …”

“Right,” he said, taking the unsaid implication. If not, this mission’s going to get a lot more stroppy. “I’ll let Steel know. And send in Nova, if he’s free.”

He nodded and slid the cockpit door open, stepping into the common room. Steel and Nova, both fully suited short of their helmets, looked up at him as he closed the door behind him. One of the duffels of winter gear was spread across the table in front of them, its equipment in varying states of being packed. Nova was holding a pair of snowshoes in his magic, apparently in the middle of trying to work out how to attach them to his armored hooves.

“Was that thunder we just heard?” Steel asked as Hunter stepped up to the table.

“It was,” he replied with a nod. “We didn’t see it, but the clouds are definitely rumbling.”

“I see …” Steel said. “Would I be right in guessing that the weather’s getting worse?”

Hunter nodded again. “Slowly but steadily, yeah. Worse, it doesn’t look like a single storm. It’s more like … a lot of little storms kicking up all over the place.”

“Lovely,” Steel said, turning back to the table. “One more thing to worry about.”

“Sky Bolt also wanted to know if she could give Nova a pass at learning how to fly.”

“Really?” Steel asked. Nova looked up, eyes wide with surprise. “I don’t see why not. If the weather’s getting worse, giving him a crash course now wouldn’t be a bad idea.”

“Boss?” he interjected. “It sounds better when you don’t call it a ‘crash course.’”

“Good point.” Steel turned to Nova. “Well, Spec?”

Nova seemed to consider it for a moment before sliding the snowshoes back to the tabletop. “Seems like a good idea to me,” he said. “Right now?”

“Head on in,” Hunter said, motioning toward the door. Nova nodded and trotted through, sliding the door open and shut with a quick glow of his horn as he went.

“So,” Hunter said as the latch shut with a faintly-audible click. “How goes the check of the winter equipment?”

“So far, so good.” Steel reached into the duffel and pulled out a long, metal rod. “They’re about what I expected.”

“Fifty-percent organized, fifty-percent chaos?”

“A little more like eighty-twenty, but yeah,” Steel replied. “Sabra’s helping Dawn in the med-bay. She’s sorting through all the medical supplies. Organizing them based on severity of injury they’re good for.”

“Sounds like a good plan.” Hunter stepped forward and picked up one of the snowshoes. It was a basic design, an interwoven ribbing of wooden mesh spread out across a light, metal framework. “I need to ask her to clean my suit.”

“Clean …?” Steel looked up, recognition dawning in his eyes. “Oh right, cleaning was—”

“A few days ago, and I missed the memo,” he finished as he walked over to his locker. “It’s not bad yet, but it is a bit noticeably … ripe, in a few spots. Especially since I was doing a workout in it.”

“Understood,” Steel said, turning his attention back to the tent poles he’d been messing with. “Go get it cleaned, suit up. You know the drill.”

“Yeah, I’ve got it,” he said as he opened his locker, exposing the carefully racked plates of armor within. “On a side note, you’ve mentioned to Sky Bolt that we shouldn’t have to try to do the impossible in these things when we need to use the bathroom, right?”

“It’s been brought up,” Steel said as he plucked his suit and threw it over his shoulders. “It’s a low priority at the moment, but she’s working on a few solutions.”

“Should the fact that you said ‘a few solutions’ instead of ‘fixing it’ worry me?” Hunter asked as the locker shut with a bang.

“Considering that one of the options I’ve heard her exploring so far is a mod that simply removes waste from your intestines via some sort of failed teleportation magic, possibly,” Steel replied. “But I told her ‘no’ to that one.”

“Sun above, thank you,” Hunter said, a faint, watery feeling coursing through his insides. “I’m not using something like that unless I’ve clearly cracked a fruity.”

“To say nothing of the test subjects,” Steel said as he walked around the table and headed for the rear hall. “I’ll keep her grounded, don’t worry.”

Good, Hunter thought as he made his way down the hall. The door to the med-bay was shut, and he lifted a hoof to knock. A mod to get rid of waste using teleportation? A faint shudder ran down his limbs and out to his wingtips. I’m all for magic most of the time. But that? Starkers.

His hoof rang against the metal hatch, a faint “Enter!” echoing along a few moments behind it. He brought his hoof down and pulled the latch back, the door opening with a light pop that was almost lost under another distant rumble of thunder.

Great, he thought as he slid the door to the side and stepped into the medbay. Weather’s getting worse.

“Ah, hello lieutenant.” Dawn’s voice greeted him as he shut the door behind him, carefully running his eyes over the array of medical paraphernalia spread across the floor. The mare herself was standing on the far side of the room, multiples of the emergency medical kits they’d scavenged from the Palace floating in her magic. Sabra was nearby, an array of items and—Hunter assumed—several empty medical kits spread across the medical table before him. The zebra turned and gave him a welcoming nod before turning back to sorting what was atop the table into each of the kits. Dawn, meanwhile, seemed to be restocking his supply of items as she opened new kits and floated the contents out. As he watched, Sabra finished one of the medical kits and slid it to one side. A piece of colored tape—green, though he wasn’t sure what the significance of the color was—floated over to it in Dawn’s magic glow and secured itself atop the latch. The magic field then swelled to cover the medkit, and it floated down behind the table. A quick step to one side showed an open container resting on the deck, gradually being filled.

“We’re checking and clearing each medkit,” Dawn said, answering his unasked question. “The Palace was able to supply a large number of them, but very few of them are uniform, especially some of the less-frequented ones. So we’re sorting them manually, making sure each one has the necessary supplies for each color.” She opened another medkit in her magic, and a cascade of bandages spilled out of it … and nothing else.

“What’s the green signify?” he asked.

“Basics,” Sabra replied. “Bandages, antiseptic, soap, clean cloth, burn cream, and other basic medical supplies.” He snapped another lid shut, Dawn’s magic sweeping it away. “For ponies with minor, self-treatable injuries.”

“We’re going to do another set with water and food,” Dawn added. “Blue tape. Orange, yellow, and red we’ll save for more capable kits.”

“Ranking with severity,” Hunter said, nodding. “I see. Pretty good thinking. Prioritization.”

“And something that hopefully their own doctors can pick up on rapidly,” Dawn said. “Despite being a thousand years behind the times.” She levitated another completed medkit away and then looked at him. “Now, what can I do for you, Hunter?”

“Actually,” he said, flipping his head around and snagging the neck of his suit with his teeth. “‘ou’d you ‘lean ‘is?” An orange glow settled around one of the legs, and he let go, watching as it floated away. “I sort of, uh, missed our last cleaning day.”

“Hmm,” Dawn said, lifting one eyebrow and giving the suit a critical look as it approached. “Fortunately for you, I do know a few cleaning and sterilization spells, though I’m not the best at them. Still, given a few minutes …” She looked at Sabra, who was just finishing another medkit.

“Sabra,” she said, catching the zebra’s attention. “If you don’t mind, would you go see if the captain needs your assistance for a few minutes? I have some questions I’d like to ask the lieutenant while he’s here. Thank you for your aid, and for the conversation.”

“Karibu,” Sabra said, offering a quick bow of his head. He gave them both a salute, then stepped out of the medbay.

“You know,” Hunter said as soon as he was gone. “I do outrank you. I could just, you know, go …”

“Oh relax, Hunter,” Dawn said, still holding his suit in a magic glow as she turned and began finishing off the medkits Sabra had left atop the medical table, her hooves deftly divvying up what was left. A few were left incomplete, and she set them to one side, her magic laying the suit across the table in their place. “For starters, no needles. I promise. Secondly, while you do outrank me, yes, I could simply exercise my right as the team’s medical doctor.”

“Yes …” he replied, drawing the word. He could feel his wings itching. Relax! She doesn’t bite! Much.

No, she doesn’t, another deep, quiet part of him said. That’s what the needles are for.

“Of course, if you did that,” he continued, “We’d be right back at needles.”

“Not always,” Dawn said, her horn lighting up and casting a wide ray of orange light down across his suit. “Don’t forget that I am responsible for the team’s mental health as well as physical. Which is why I wanted to ask you how your day yesterday went.”

“Ah.” Of course. Should have seen this one coming. “Yesterday.”

“It went well, I hope?” Dawn asked, her magic narrowing in on one part of his suit.

“I …” There was no sense in holding it back. “It did, yeah,” he said. “It hurt—it always does, but this time it felt … I don’t know, different?”

“Different? Different how?”

He threw his mind back, remembering the quiet peace of the graveyard, the grey, carved stone of Swift’s memorial. “You know, I don’t know,” he said after a moment. Thinking about it brought back the same old ache … but at the same time it didn’t quite feel the exact way he remembered it.

“Thistle was there.” He’d spoken before he’d even realized it, and Dawn’s magic sputtered, blinking for a moment in surprise.

“She was?” she asked, her magic fading as she gave him her full attention. “I thought she had a delivery to make or somesuch?”

“She surprised me,” he said, staring at the table as he remembered. “She knew it was my day off, so she swapped shifts or something with somepony else at her job to come say hello.”

“And you took her to see Swift Wind’s grave?”

“No.” He shook his head. “I didn’t. She, uh … followed me after I made a bodgy excuse.”

Dawn nodded, her eyes going back to the suit. “And? If you’re comfortable telling me about it, that is.”

“She … actually handled it pretty well. And, if I’m honest …” He brought a hoof up, rubbing at the back of his head and tilting his Stetson forward. “I was really glad she followed me. She …” He wasn’t quite sure how to say what was running through his mind. “She was respectful about the whole thing. Honestly, it felt like she understood, really understood how much it hurt. I was glad she was there. It felt … good, really to share that with someone other than Derpy. It took the edge off. Sharing that with her …” He shook his head. “I don’t know. In a way it kind of reminded me of when I first met Derpy.”

He sat back, haunches hitting the rubbery deck. “Not quite the same, though. Derpy … She and I were … the phrase ‘birds of a feather’ comes to mind. She knew what I was going through. She helped pull me out of it. Because she’s a good pony, and she understood what I was going through, and knew that there weren’t that many who did. She knew what the mire was like, how it pulls you down. Plus, if she could help pull me out, she knew I’d be able to do the same for her.”

“Thistle …” He could feel himself struggling to find the words, to articulate exactly what he was feeling. “She understood. I …” He shook his head. “I don’t even know how to put it into words. But her being there … it helped. Just having her there, by my side, in that moment …” His throat felt heavy. “I think they really would have liked one another, you know? Thistle and Swift. They really would have gotten along.”

He fell silent, unsure of what to add. The ache in his chest was back, embers of an old loss stirred up in pain, but at the same time, they weren’t the same. There was something … warm … about them.

“You might be feeling all worried,” he said, lifting his head back up and running a hoof along one eye. It came away slightly damp. “But honestly … it still hurts. I think it always will, at least until I, you know, see her again. But …” He took a deep breath. “I guess the best comparison I can make is how it felt after I talked with Derpy the first time. I was deep in the thick of it, and Derpy … Well, having her around sort of pulled me up a bit, you know? It still hurt, but not the same way.”

“Thistle?” He shrugged. “Her being there was kind of a similar experience. I mean, I was shocked at first, surprised, but … After we’d talked, it was kind of like it was with Derpy. Once I opened up … I felt a lot better about it. And Thistle …” He shook his head. “She got it. I knew she understood how I felt. She didn’t try to press it off or pull back or anything. She just … accepted it and understood it.”

He let out a deep breath. “So yeah. If you want to know how I’m feeling, well …” He looked up. Dawn was looking right at him from across the table, his suit clearly forgotten. He smiled. “Honestly, I feel better about it than I have in years. And certainly better about it than I normally would after … well, you know.”

“Which isn’t to say that it didn’t hurt. I bawled, Dawn. It hurt. But it’s like … I let it out. It still hurts … but that just means I loved her that much.”

“Hunter,” Dawn said, a smile of her own gracing her muzzle. As always, it looked refined. Dignified. But there was a warmth behind it, clear as the sun. “Thank you.”

“Thank you? For what?”

“For trusting me,” Dawn said, still smiling.

“Hey, you’re the team doc.”

“True,” she said. “But I’m also the … ‘ice queen of needles?’”

“Well …”

“I’m just saying thank you for being so candid, even with your reservations.” Her magic gripped his suit once more, picking it up. “And, if I may, I’m glad to hear that the … anniversary visit, if I may call it that, went so well. You seemed well, but I wanted to ask.”

“No,” he said, rising. “You needed to ask. That’s your job. To make sure I’m not … gone starkers with grief.”

“Well, yes, that is true,” Dawn said, her horn once again glowing. “But I also wanted to ask, job or not. It is who I am. I know it may not always seem like it, but … I do care for your well-being, Hunter.”

“Well …” Hunter trotted forward, striding right up to the end of the table. “Thanks,” he said, holding out a hoof.

“Anytime,” Dawn said with a smile, tapping her hoof against his. They shook, and then he stepped back.

“So … How’s the suit?”

“Not bad,” she said, her horn glowing again. A glob of … something … floated free of the material. There was a soft hiss as her magic sterilized it, and then she dumped it in a nearby receptacle. “I’d imagine in another few days you would have noticed the smell.”

“Isn’t it enchanted against stuff like that?”

“It is …” Dawn said, horn brightening again. “But there’s only so much an enchantment can do. One more thing to suggest to our resident mad engineer for future experimentation.”

“Easy with how you use that term,” he added. “Did Steel tell you about her idea for making it easier to use the bathroom with these things?”

“No …” Dawn said, brow furrowing. “I hadn’t.”

“I’ll let you ask him about it,” he said as she floated the suit up into the air and gave it a final pass with her horn. “It’s … well, frankly, terrifying.”

“I’ll have to ask, then,” Dawn said as folded the suit and set it on the tabletop. “There. Done.”

“Thanks,” he said, tugging it onto his back. “You want me to ask Sabra to come back in here?”

“If you would,” Dawn replied as he turned for the door. “And Hunter?”

He paused, hoof outstretched. “Yes?”

“Derpy introduced you to Thistle, didn’t she?”

“Yeah.” He nodded. “She did. Why?”

Dawn’s eyes seemed to sparkle. “It sounds like you have yet another thing to be grateful to her for.”

“Oh, she knows.” he said, and slid the door open. Another rumble echoed through The Hummingbird as he stepped out of the med-bay. She knows.

He turned toward the front of the airship. There was work to do, an ancient empire about to return, and a whole lot to get ready for when it did.

But despite all that, he felt pretty good.

Chapter 4

View Online

He was falling, the world around him receding even as it flipped beneath him. He frowned, the physical sensation drifting across his awareness like an errant leaf.

Breathe. The command drifted across Sabra’s awareness as gravity returned with a sudden lurch deep in his gut. Breathe. Focus inward. Forget.

Faint voices echoed around him, mixing with the dull roar of The Hummingbird’s propellers … and the ever-present howl of the wind. For a brief moment the identities of the voices resonated within him, his mind attaching names to each of them.

Sky Bolt. Captain Song. Hunter. Nova. Dawn.

Then they were gone again as his mind settled. The deck beneath him shook as well, another gust of wind shaking the airship, but he let that fade like the voices had, slipping to the back of his consciousness. It wasn’t that they no longer existed—he could still feel the soft give of the rubbery deck coating beneath his hindquarters, and the chill cool of the airship’s air against his skin. They were simply part of the physical, part of the world. He sank back, deeper into the void. A sense of falling overtook him, this one mental, rather than real, as he dropped further into his own mind.

Every breath was a measured movement, every firing of a muscle a controlled, monitored motion. Everything flows together, he intoned, the words echoing through his mind. Everything flows as one. Each breath. Each twitch of an ear. Each pulse of his heart. All were around him, part of him.

All were physical. He let himself sink back further, a void closing around him as he dove deeper. And with it … With it came the lake.

He could see it now, stretched out all around him like a mirrored pool. An endless pool of water, stretching from horizon to horizon. His own hooves rested against the surface, their touch barely enough to send ripples cascading out from his position, endlessly outward toward each edge.

It appeared tranquil and quiet, but he knew the truth. He could see the ways the ripples of his own appearance were shifting and shaping as they moved across the surface. The lake appeared calm, but it wasn’t. Soft waves lapped in the passing of each ripple, small at first, but then larger and larger. Currents boiled beneath, roiling and spinning.

He was ill-at-ease.

Some of the turbulence held a clear cause. A set of new ripples broke out across the lake as those caused by his presence swept over them. With them came scents and sounds, feelings and discomfort. Smells of oil. A taste of ginger. A churning feeling inside his gut.

The Hummingbird. Sky Bolt was doing her best to make their experience a comfortable one as the weather had worsened, but despite her efforts over the last two days, the craft had continued to rock and pitch with every gust. Which in turn had left him feeling less than capable. Again the sense of the real world swelled as he thought of the physical, and he had to steady himself, pushing back as the ripples of The Hummingbird’s memories became waves.

Peace. Sabra let the word roll out of him, echoing across the unruly waters. The waves subsided, but they didn’t truly fade. Worse, he could see other areas of the lake beginning to churn as well, the normally smooth stillness breaking apart as more thoughts and memories surged within his mind. Even the normally blank void around him was showing signs of color, swaths of deep purples and greens rolling across the “sky.”

Breathe. For a brief moment he let the real world come back to him, his breaths steady and even. Breathe. He could feel the pulse of his heart with each beat, feel the rush of each wave of blood as it pulsed through him. The lake began to still once more, the waters growing less turbulent with each passing moment. Breathe.

He let the physical realm slip away once more, his focus solely on the spiritual. The lake beneath him clarified, each lapping wave thrown into sharp relief.

You cannot force peace. The thought drifted across the void, bringing with it another cascade of ripples that were soon lost among the waves. You can only gain it by truly understanding.

That, he knew, was the problem. Around him, the various waves rippled against one another. He could not find peace because he was not at peace. Because I do not understand, he thought as he watched the waves bound off of one another.

All this time, and I still lack an answer. Part of the lake rippled, new waves cascading out from a place very close to the center, mixing with the ripples of his own presence and forming small waves atop what was already there. Different ideas and feelings, mixing with one another to create something new. For better? For worse? He couldn’t say.

Again the sensation of falling threatened to pull him away, the void lifting away around him before jumping back in sharp clarity. New waves ran across its surface, brought on by his sudden attachment to the real world.

That part, at least, he understood. The real world could often make understanding the one within more difficult. It was immediate, tangible. Its cries for attention were like cannon shots across a moonlit lake. Achieving the mental clarity needed to peer deep within one’s self took both focus and practice.

And even the most capable mind, when it believes it is falling, will have difficulty peering inward.

The waves still cascaded, rolling back and forth across the lake like wind-swept grass on a field. He steeled himself, looking out across the rolling waters, noting the points where the largest waves came together and tracing them back to their points of origin.

Of course. It was a part of it. The question. He could feel himself circling it. Like a leviathan it lurked beneath the waters, each movement sending out a new cascade of ripples.

What is life? He still didn’t know. With each being he’d asked, with each answer they had given, the space beneath the waters had grown only more vast. He could feel it, pressing against his psyche, an underwater mountain of knowledge growing with each adding insight, each new approach. And yet for all that, it only felt more restless.

What is life? The question that had seen him leave his home to find a new one. The question that had been his sole driving force for several years of his existence. The quest that had brought him out of the Plainslands and into Equestria.

And yet the more I give it, the further I feel from my goal. He couldn’t explain it. He didn’t understand it. And all around, he could see the impacts of those ripples as they combined with every facet of his life, building to waves across his mind, making the surface of the lake pitch beneath his hooves.

Life is a gift to be shared. Life is the triumph of becoming more than we are. Each ripple brought with it a new memory, a new face, another pony’s answer. Life is being you. Life is just life. Life is hardship you succeed in. Life is ‘freaking rad.’ The last one had left him with some confusion, at least until he’d gotten Sky Bolt to explain some of the unfamiliar wording.

Sky Bolt. More ripples erupted across the lake, colliding with others in what would have been wet slaps had there been any reality to what he was seeing.

So unsure, he thought as the waters churned around him. So much to understand.

Again he let himself fall inward, sinking into the waters, and bit by bit they began to quiet, though none of them stopped. It was a sharp shock compared to the stillness they had possessed just weeks ago.

Then again, according to many, that was his answer. Hardship you succeed in. Progress through struggle. New knowledge came with it a demand for understanding. Inability or unwillingness to understand led to turmoil. Careful contemplation and study led to insight and growth. Which in turn, led to peace once more … at least until the next drip of knowledge came along.

The Hummingbird shook again beneath him, sending more ripples across his mind, distractions that tugged at his senses, but he slipped below the waves, feeling them out, locating their sources.

He had much to think about.

* * *

Some time later he opened his eyes, stretching and feeling pins and needles rush down his lower legs. It had been a long time since he’d adopted the most basic position for falling into his own mind, but with the tumbling and the pitching of the airship, it had felt like the best choice.

Especially as balancing on my staff was out of the question, he thought, cocking his head to one side and then the other. The interior of the airship was brightly lit, the sky outside the windows nearly black. He had been out for some time.

“Hello, Sabra.” Captain Song was standing in front of the small galley, hooves darting around two pots. “I was wondering when you would be done.”

“Captain,” he said, still blinking as he looked around the rest of the room. Nova was standing by the table, breaking several eggs into a bowl with his hooves. Of the rest of the team there was no sign. “How long …?”

“Thirty minutes almost to the dot, like you said,” the captain replied, and Sabra let out a quick sigh of relief. The darkened windows had made it look much later, though now that his eyes had adjusted, he could see that it was mostly the cause of the lights inside the airship making it appear darker than it really was outside the ship. Though the thick, black clouds certainly weren’t helping.

“Good.” He rose from his seated position on the deck, a shiver rolling down his back as he became aware of how cold he felt. Even clad in the dark bodysuit that made up the underlayer of his armor, simply sitting motionless in one place for so long had brought a chill to his skin. Still, he was warmer than he had been earlier that day, when they’d left the confines of the airship to practice maneuvers on the ground. Another shiver grew atop the first, prompted only by the memory. Never in my life have I felt such cold.

“May I help?” he asked, slowly moving toward the table, giving time for blood to flow through his rear legs once more.

“No need,” Nova said, using his magic to pass the bowl of shelled eggs to Captain Song, who shook his head. “We’re pretty much done.” The captain emptied the bowl slowly into the tall, deep pot he’d been stirring, pausing every so often to give it another adjustment with his ladle. “Pretty much done.”

He nodded. The pair had already been at work when he’d taken a seat to begin his meditations, working with a pre-made broth and other supplies. Now that he was more alert, he could smell the result of their efforts, a rich, tantalizing scent that curled through his nostrils. His stomach let out a growl, and Nova grinned.

“Guess we did pretty well.”

“Ndiyo. You did,” he said with a nod. “What is it?”

“Egg-drop soup,” Captain Song replied as he set the now-empty bowl aside. Then he shrugged.”Well, sort of. The closest we can get to it with canned broth and a smaller cooking window. And with a few add-ins for our nutritional needs: dumplings, onions, potatoes, carrots, noodles—”

“Plus beans as a side dish,” Nova said, deftly stacking the leftover empty eggshells one by one atop a hoof. “Canned, but hey, protein.” The Hummingbird shook again, the eggshells falling from his hoof only to be caught in a magic glow just before they hit the tabletop. They floated over to a nearby garbage receptacle and dropped in with faint plops. “And I’m sure looking forward to that after running around in the snow.”

“Agreed,” Sabra said as his stomach let out another little rumble. Even after the captain had directed everyone to put on the “snowshoes,” moving around across the thick snows had been far more difficult than he had expected. The frozen scenery had lied about everything, from how deep it was to how lightly he could put a hoof upon it. More than once he had found himself sinking deep into snowdrifts that only a moment earlier had appeared perfectly safe. Lieutenant Hunter had stated that with time, he would grow familiar with the signs and subtle differences of the terrain, but as for the current mission?

Well, he’d spent a lot of their exercises digging himself out of snow drifts or picking himself up, snow caked to his suit. He’d drained the thermal mod multiple times over the course of the short hour they’d spent on the ground, but always, without fail and within minutes, the chilling cold had returned.

“Here,” the captain said, sweeping an empty metal can off of the galley counter and into the same garbage can. “If you want to lend a hoof, you can take the trash back into the back and deposit it in the garbage stowage. While you do that, Nova and I can clean up our mess.”

Sabra nodded and stepped up to the can. “All right,” he said, the words rolling off of his tongue. The affirmation was met with nods of thanks, and he pulled the can toward him, noting the way the back seemed to “stick” to the galley wall.

Magnetics, he thought as he began pulling the plastic bag out of the bin and rolling it in his hooves. Clever. With all the pitching and rolling the airship could be—and currently was being—subjected to, the design made a lot of sense.

It only took him a single try to roll the open end of the bag around one hoof—a marked improvement, given his lack of luck with knots thus far—and tie it off. He pulled it out of the can slowly, checking for any signs of leakage before setting it astride his back. The cans within it let out a metallic rattle as the contents shifted. Keeping the load perched on his back with the swaying of the airship would be a fitting challenge.

“Hey, while you’re back there,” Nova said as he turned for the door. “You want to let Dawn know we’ll be eating soon? Say, maybe …?” His voice trailed off as he looked at Captain Song.

“Three minutes or so,” the captain replied as he slid a few dishes into the galley’s deep sink.

“That I can do.” He turned and stepped out of the common room, carefully making each step to counteract the faint, jerky motions of The Hummingbird as the exterior winds lashed at it. Another dull rumble rolled through the ship, and he felt his ears twist as the hall around him let out a faintly resonant echo.

That one was close, he thought an answering rumble rolled past the ship again, rebounding off of the nearby mountains and across the Crystal Plains. Or perhaps more violent.

Then again, he thought as he raised a hoof to rap against the med-bay door. It could easily be both. He waited for the rumble to fade before bringing his hoof down against the door, the thick, rubbery coating of his suit deadening the sound somewhat, but not completely.

“Enter,” came Dawn’s voice from inside. He slid the door aside, noting almost immediately that the floor was no longer covered in the various emergency medical kits that it had been the day before, but rather occupied by two large wooden crates that likely had only barely fit through the doorway. Both were open, and the sergeant herself was currently occupied with sorting through the contents—or so he assumed based on the way she was floating several of them in her magic as well as spreading them out on the table. She smiled as she saw him, the motion slight but ever-apparent. “Yes, Sabra?” she asked. “What is it?”

“The captain wished me to inform you that our meal will be ready in around three minutes’ time.”

“Ah, excellent,” Dawn replied. “Thank you for informing me, Sabra. I’ll be right out.”

“Karibu.” As he slid the door shut, another rumble rolled through the airship. A moment later the deck jerked, as if the wind itself were trying to match the electrical fury of the storm with its own boasts. His cargo shifted, rolling across his back, and he dropped himself low, catching it before it could tumble off entirely.

The garbage stowage was in the rear of the ship, near the boilers on the left—Port, he reminded himself—side of the vessel. It was a small room that was sealed against leakage into the rest of the ship and had venting to the outside air to dispose of any noxious scents that built up—which also meant it was, at the moment, ice cold.

Thankfully, there was little more for him to do than open the door and toss the partially-filled bag from his back through the opening into a large, waiting metal box that was, at the moment, almost completely empty. It hit the bottom with a ringing thud, a cascade of metal on metal crashes following behind it as the contents settled. As quick as the motion had been however, he still felt a cool chill of freezing air roll across his body as he shut the door.

How could a whole empire live here comfortably? He turned and looked out a nearby porthole, watching as large flakes of snow swept past, darting out of the darkness and flashing white under the lights of the airship before vanishing once more. As he tilted his head back, looking up, he caught sight of a distant jagged fork of lightning arcing across the dark, a brilliant bolt of neon clawing its way through the clouds. A flick of his ears was just in time to catch the faint crack and echoing rumble left in its wake. All this cold, this weather … It’s so inhospitable.

He shook his head, driving the foalish thoughts away. And the same has been said of many about the Plainslands, he reminded himself as he turned away from the cold glass. Yet our nation has thrived, survived numerous challenges, and risen to be grander than we ever hoped. He glanced back, eyeing the glass. And if we could do that in the endless heat of the plains, who is to say others could not in the endless storms that seem to wrack those that are frozen? He resumed his pace back toward the common room. After all, there are beings living further north, on the Ocean of Endless Ice. Surely it must be even colder there.

He paused for a moment as a thought occurred to him. But how do they do that? He’d seen the news stories about the Ocean, especially since what was apparently the usual fighting across the ice had turned into a small war of some kind. And it hasn’t been lost on anypony that Hunter and Captain Song have had strong words about it. Which meant, everyone knew, that Hunter had been involved, though exactly how outside of something to do with the griffon they’d faced at the ERS headquarters, no one could specifically say. Or was permitted to say, after Captain Song had issued orders to be quiet about the whole thing until it blew over.

Still, he thought as he passed the med bay, once again smelling the scent of food from the common room. How do beings live up there? Where do they get food? Or fuel? Do they import it? He frowned as his mind caught up with the implications of what he’d just been considering. Will this Crystal Empire need the same? Will there be trains coming up the rail line the Princesses built loaded with food and needed materials?

The captain may know. He stepped into the common room, ears twitching and swiveling in the direction of the galley as dishes clattered against one another. As may Lieutenant Hunter. Or even Sky Bolt. He smiled as Nova and the captain glanced at him. I’ll have to ask.

“Dawn coming?” Nova’s voice pulled Sabra away from his thoughts, and he answered the unicorn with a nod.

“In a moment,” he said. “What about Lieutenant Hunter?”

“Cockpit,” Captain Song said, motioning toward the front of the ship. “He’s flying right now, under Sky’s tutelage. That way he can keep an eye on the ship tomorrow when we drop, and she can get some experience and practice in the snow.” The captain turned to the pot of soup and gave it another quick stir. A fresh cloud of scented steam rose into the air, and Sabra’s eyes darted to the nearest windows, which were beginning to fog over with condensation.

“I see. Should I inform them?”

“I already did,” Nova said, his magic aglow as it settled a small array of bowls and spoons on the table in a single stack. A moment later the ship shook again, wind slamming into it from outside, and the stack wobbled. Nova frowned, his horn lighting as he split the stack in two. “For now, if you’re ready …” A single bowl lifted up in his magic and floated over toward Sabra.

The door to the cockpit slid to one side, Hunter poking his head out. “Well,” he said, his voice ringing through the room as he entered. “That smells like it was delivered by the Creator. We about ready to eat?”

“Grab a bowl.” Captain Song stepped away from the pot. “Just be wary. It’s hot. Beans are on the side.”

“Soup first,” Hunter said, grabbing a bowl in his teeth and stepping up to the galley. “I’d rather that warmth heat me up than the room.”

Sabra nodded in agreement, taking his own offered bowl and moving up behind the stallion. “I agree,” he said slowly, taking care to enunciate the Equestrian tongue around the foreign object he was holding in his teeth. “The warmth will be appreciated.” His eyes slid to the side as Hunter set the bowl down and ladled himself a steaming dollop of the soup. Diced carrots and potatoes mixed with noodles dropped into his bowl amid a thick, almost gooey broth.

He could feel himself salivating. He couldn’t help it. While the meal looked to be a far cry from the traditional form he was familiar with from his homeland, it still smelled heavenly. Hunter ladled another half a ladleful of the soup into his bowl, then gently picked it up with his teeth and made his way over to the table. A moment later The Hummingbird jerked to one side, and a pained yelp echoed across the compartment.

“Ow!” Hunter said, holding a hoof to his muzzle and glaring down at the bowl, which was sitting steaming on the tabletop. It wasn’t until Sabra noticed the dampness around the pegasus’ muzzle that he realized what had happened. “Right up the nose!”

“I warned you!” Captain Song said as all of them, Hunter included, began to laugh. A richer, more vibrant laugh echoed from the cockpit, followed by a faint “Sorry!”

“You did,” Hunter said, wiping at his nose with one hoof. “But I did it for the good of the team. All of you?” He sat back, making a grand wave with his hoof. “Steel, Nova, Sabra …” He paused as Dawn trotted into the room. “Esteemed doctor, and Sky Bolt, I have learned, for the good of the team, that in the current, inclement weather conditions, one-and-a-half ladles of soup in a bowl is a little too much. Heed my warning, and beware!” The last word came out stretched out like a storyteller around a late-night fire, and Sabra grinned as the lieutenant threw his hoof back dramatically.

“Never fear, Hunter,” he said, throwing the ‘wounded’ pegasus a quick bow from one knee. “I shall learn from your example. One ladle, no more.” He turned, and with a quick flip of his head, scooped out a single ladleful, dropping it into his bowl.

“Good pony,” Hunter said, his voice ripe with mock seriousness. “The rest of you could do to learn from his example.”

“And learn from your mistakes?” Nova asked, grinning. “How many more do you plan to demonstrate tonight?”

“Hey now, I’m a superior officer,” Hunter said, pointing a wing at Nova. “No whinging, or I’ll send Steel after you.”

“Hunter,” Captain Song said, though Sabra could see the faint smile on his face. “I’m your superior.”

“Really?” Hunter asked as Sabra carefully dropped a spoon into his bowl, and then glanced toward the cockpit. “I don’t know. Sounds like a wonky way to run a company.”

“Well, we could always trade,” Captain Song replied. “I know you’d love to have more paperwo—”

“What was that, captain?” Hunter asked, snapping a quick salute and sitting up straight. “I’m not sure what you’re referring to, sir! No idea, in fact, sir!”

Sabra turned and caught sight of Dawn rolling her eyes as she walked over to the table. “In all seriousness, Hunter, you weren’t burned, were you?”

“Just my pride,” he said. “It’ll be fine once I blow the soup out of it.”

Dawn shook her head, stepping away with an exasperated look on her face. Her horn began to glow, one of the bowls on the table lifting up and floating along beside her. Nova, meanwhile, grinned and tapped his bowl into the air with a flick of his hoof, catching it with his magic and jumping up to the pot before Dawn got there.

Of course, Sabra thought, carefully grasping his own bowl and trotting over to the table. From behind him he could hear Dawn making her displeasure known at Nova’s actions, along with an amused defense in return. He would.

He set his meal down—without any accidents—and took a quick look around the table. “Will Sky Bolt be joining us?” he asked.

Hunter shook his head, the motion a little truncated by the hoof he was still massaging his burned nose with. “No,” he said. “She wanted to stay in the cockpit and keep an eye on things.”

“Don’t worry!” came Sky’s voice, echoing around the open door. “I’ll stick it on autopilot in a few minutes and come dish up. As long as you leave me some I’ll be fine.”

Sabra looked down at his meal, his stomach letting out another little rumble as a wisp of steam blew into his nostrils. Then, his decision made, he bent down and picked the bowl up in his teeth once more. “No need,” he said quietly as he turned and moved toward the cockpit, Hunter giving him a knowing wink as he went.

He stepped in as quietly as he could, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. Sky was barely visible at first, sitting in near darkness in front of the control board, the only light coming through the door or from the running lights on the outside of the airship. Snow was sweeping past the glass, occasionally getting stuck and melting, but more often than not sweeping away to one side or the other.

“—is really picking up,” Sky was muttering to herself, her attention completely fixed on some of the instruments in front of her. “I’m going to have to keep a good eye on it tonight while—Oh!” She started as she turned, wings snapping out slightly. “Sabra! Habari!”

“Habari,” he replied around the bowl held carefully in his teeth. “I brought you some dinner.”

“Aww.” He couldn’t make out the color of her cheeks under the dim light, but he knew from the look of surprise on her face, as well as the way her wings had shifted position slightly, that she was blushing. “Sabra, you didn’t have to.”

“I know,” he replied as she reached out with one hoof and pulled a small drawer out of the side of the control panel. It was indented, one of the depressions in its surface slightly larger than the base of the bowl. And, he noted as he set the bowl down, rubbery. How clever. The bowl would not slide, not with a gripping material underneath it. Further still, as he stepped back The Hummingbird shook again, and the platform tilted slightly, adjusting its angle to compensate. Somepony was thinking ahead. He looked back up at her, smiling. “But I wanted to.”

His stomach let out another growl, and Sky laughed, the sound ringing through the cockpit. “Oh Sabra, you’re just … Wewe ni mzuri sana. Na njaa.” She glanced back at the controls before turning to look at him once more. “Would you like to keep me company in the cockpit for dinner? Once you get food, I mean,” she added quickly, but he was already nodding.

“Napenda hiyo,” he said, smiling. “I will be right back.” He turned and stepped back through the door, a lightness to his movements. Captain Song was standing by the pot of soup, ladling up his own bowl, while Dawn and Nova had joined Hunter by the table.

“If I may, captain,” Sabra said as he neared the galley. “Could I—?”

“You may,” Steel Song said, one corner of his mouth turning up in a smile even as his eyes stayed fixed on the pot of soup. “We’re not going to be discussing anything important over dinner. Go keep the specialist company so she doesn’t have to eat alone.”

“Asante.”

The captain gave his head a slight shake before bending down to pick up his bowl. “Think nothing of it,” he said before biting down. Then he stepped back without a word and trotted over to the table.

“So,” Sabra heard Hunter say as he served up another bowl and began making his way back to the cockpit. “What do you say tomorrow we make a giant snowpony? Huh? Anyone?”

He stepped again into the cockpit, the conversation behind him fading from his focus. Sky had left her seat, standing on the left—Port—side of the cockpit. As he looked at her, eyes adjusting once again, she waved a hoof at him.

“Bunk’s down,” she said, lifting into the air with a quick flap of her wings. “Here.” She darted forward, cupping her hooves under his bowl and taking it from him. “There’s a place for your bowl over on this side.”

“Asante.”

“Not a problem.” She settled back into the pilot’s seat shrugging. “You brought me my dinner, so …” She motioned, and he stepped past her, taking a seat atop the waiting bunk.

“Settled?” she asked. “Good.” She leaned over and slid the cockpit door shut. “There,” she said as the light from the common room vanished. “That’s better.”

It took a moment for his eyes to adjust, but as they did, the world outside the glass grew, clouds coming into view. He could see distant swirls of snow spiraling through the air, as well as distant flashes in the sky where more bolts of lightning arced, concealed by the thick storm.

The control board, he realized after a moment, was lit as well, small gemstones near the instruments glowing with a faint light that didn’t distract from the world outside the glass.

“So,” Sky said, her attention fixed on her instruments once more. “This weather is wild isn’t it?”

“‘Wild’ in the sense that it’s untamed by pegasi?” Sabra asked as he bent down and blew on his soup. Even in the low light he could see a faint wisp of heat rising from it. He could feel it too, against his cheeks. “Or ‘wild’ as in ‘frantic and furious’?”

“The latter,” Sky said, her attention still fixed on her instruments. “We’ve got wind shears coming from every direction, cloud currents that make no sense …” She adjusted a lever and sat back in her seat. “I mean, look at this!”

She reached up and folded the map down. A light set at its base began to glow in a soft green, illuminating the map and the plastic overlay Sky was pulling down over it.

“Look,” Sky said, motioning with her hoof at a tight cluster of circular arrows and patterns drawn across the plastic. “I’ve been trying to make sense of these wind systems, but it’s chaos, and I’m not a weatherpony. I only know as much as I need to fly. This?” She sank back with a frustrated sigh. “It’s like there are twenty different storm systems all fighting out here.”

“Maybe there are,” he suggested. The airship shook again, the flurries of snow outside the glass suddenly switching direction and soaring off into the night.

“No, I know there are,” Sky said. Her voice held just a hint of weariness. “It’s just frustrating trying to keep us on course with all of it. If the patterns were more regular it’d be a bit easier to compensate for, but even today a number of these storm clouds have just plain switched directions and angles.” She let out another sigh. “I know it’s probably the whole ‘empire from beyond returning’ with leaking magic or whatever, but I just wish I could pilot us through it a bit better.”

“Oh well.” She shook her head, then scooped up a spoonful of soup before letting out a sharp yelp. “Hot! Hot!” Her wingtips came up, fanning her mouth as she jerked back from the offending bowl.

“Yes, it is,” Sabra said, trying not to laugh as Sky continued to fan her mouth. “Didn’t you hear Hunter’s warning?”

“Meh,” Sky said, sticking her tongue out at him and then smiling. “It just caught me by surprise, that’s all.” She reached out and folded the map back up, the world outside the cockpit coming into greater detail as the source of light vanished. At the moment, however, Sabra found his eyes drawn back to his soup. He reached out, carefully spooned up a small portion, and then, with a careful look to see if it looked to be releasing too much steam, sipped it up.

His eyes widened in surprise. It wasn’t identical to the soup of the same name from his homeland, but at the same time, the difference wasn’t unwelcome. It wasn’t better, nor was it worse—unless, of course, he compared it to his mother’s, but that was hardly a fair comparison—but it simply was …

Comparable, he thought after a moment. Different.

And, he realized as he took another bite, and then another, delicious. They ate quietly for a moment, each of them focused on sating their hunger. Only when his spoon scraped the bottom of the bowl did he realize that neither of them had spoken in several minutes.

“Good soup, isn’t it?” Sky asked as his spoon clattered against the empty metal bowl.

He nodded. “It’s different, but no less delicious. And the warmth in my stomach is most appreciated.” He sank back, leaning his shoulders against the vent and letting his legs stretch out in front of him. “I may need to go get more before long, however.”

“Well, after all that running around and climbing you did in the snow today, I’m not surprised,” Sky said, her own spoon dropping into her bowl with a metal-on-metal clink. Another gust of wind shook The Hummingbird and sent it skittering to one side, a pair of twin clicks following as their spoons both spun freely. “You were really working out there.”

He nodded. “It was … harder than I expected.” Somehow, the knowledge that she’d been observing from above wasn’t at all surprising. “You were watching, then?”

She nodded. “Steel told me to. It’s an awareness thing. I have to keep an eye on the sky and on the team at all times, in case they signal for an evacuation, or I see that they need my help.” She reached out and flipped a switch with an audible click, before leaning back and eyeing the compass carefully.

“So you know how often I got stuck.”

Sky let out a small giggle. “Sorry,” she said, turning to look at him. “I shouldn’t laugh, but it was funny.”

“I don’t disagree,” he said, returning her smile with one of his own. “I would have been laughing myself had my face not been too frozen to make any expression.” A shiver rolled through him.

“Did the thermal mod help?” Sky asked.

“It did, but it could only do so much. I’ve never felt so cold before in my life.”

Sky frowned as she slid down from her seat, stealing a single glance at the compass as she did so. “Well, hopefully you’ll get used to it before long. And the mod should help.” She stepped up to the bunk and sat down next to him. “In the meantime, well …” She leaned up against him, resting her cheek against his shoulder. “We’ve got all that winter gear. You could try putting that over your armor.”

“I think I will,” he said, shifting his position slightly so that he could lean into her as well. It felt … good. Soothing. “Ah, which reminded me. I had a question you might know the answer to.”

“Oh?” One of Sky’s ears flicked against his cheek as she perked up, her body rising slightly. He smiled.

Ever the engineer.

“What’d you want to know?”

“The Ocean of Endless Ice,” he said, shifting his head slightly so that he could just see her fire-red eyes out of the corner of his own. Another gust of wind roared past, snow shooting past the cockpit and out over the endless Crystal Plains below. “Do they grow their own food? Or fuel for their boilers? Or do they pay for it?”

“The Ocean?” Sky shifted slightly against his side before settling. “Well, I’m not an expert on it, but I know they do pay for imported foods and goods. It’s expensive, but they’re producing ethereal crystal, so they can. They do grow some too, though. They use these huge greenhouses with really thick, multipane glass and lots of heating. They grow plants that they can harvest for fuel, too. It’s not a perfect solution, but it’s what they can do, so …”

He nodded. “Those must be impressive greenhouses.” He’d seen some in his homeland, but they were often quite open, given the climates of the Plainslands.

“What made you ask?” Sky asked, burrowing a little deeper into his shoulder as another distant rumble of thunder echoed through the air.

“I was wondering about this place we’re saving. The Crystal Empire. The weather we’re seeing … How did they grow food? Did they purchase it from others? What with?”

“If they did, you can bet the Princesses knew about it,” Sky replied. “And that they’ve got some plan for dealing with it.”

“They do seem to have a plan for everything.”

A brilliant flash of light lit the cabin, almost blinding against the sudden darkness, and both of them jerked up. An almost deafening crack followed seconds later, the very bunk beneath them vibrating.

“More lightning,” Sky said as the rolling roar echoed across the plains, rebounding off of the distant mountains and rumbling back.

Sabra nodded. And no sign of any city, he thought as Sky settled back into position.

“So,” Sky said. “How’d the meditation go earlier?”

“It …” He paused for a moment, mulling the memory over in his mind. “It could have been better,” he admitted.

“Hard to think?”

“Not entirely, but that did have a bit to do with it.” He smiled. “It is hard to focus on the spiritual when the physical makes such urgent demands for attention.” The Hummingbird jerked in the air, rising and then falling. A chorus of clinking sounds rang through the cockpit as their spoons bounced. “Such as that.”

“Sorry,” Sky said sheepishly, blowing a tuft of hair out of her face with a short snort.

“It’s not your fault. It’s just a challenge of where we are.”

“But that wasn’t all of it?”

“No,” he said, giving his head a slight shake. Out in the distance another bolt of lightning arced across the sky. A distant rumble followed a moment later. “I am merely … unsettled, I think, would be the best word. Trying to … ‘digest?’ Yes, digest recent knowledge.”

Sky nodded. “The question?”

“The question.” Neither of them needed to expound any further on what it was, or what it meant to him. Sky understood, in her own way.

“No answer yet?”

He shook his head again. “No. Not as of yet. But sometimes I wonder if I’m coming closer to an answer, or if I’m simply adding more knowledge to a peak I may never reach.”

“Didn’t the Princesses give you good answers? And the teachers at Princess Celestia’s school?” Sky asked with a faint frown.

“They did. And they have,” he answered. “But while all of their answers are amazing, none of them has felt quite … right? Sijui.” He shook his head again. “All of their answers are thought provoking or insightful, but none of them feels … Again, I do not know. Maybe all of them together.” He shifted again, only to pause as a warm blanket descended over his shoulders, one of Sky’s wings wrapping around him.

“You’ll figure it out,” she said, pulling her wing tight against him. “You’re the youngest master your monastery has ever seen. How long did it take others to find answers to their great questions?”

“Decades.”

“Exactly,” Sky said. “You’ve only been at it for a few years. You’ll find it. And while you look, you’re always going to be welcome here.” She smiled, burying her head in his shoulder. “And we’ll all do what we can to help. Even if that does mean you’ll need to go when you’ve found it.”

He smiled. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Sky Bolt said. “And besides, you’ve earned it. You brought me soup. Speaking of which …” She sat up, her wing leaving his side and leaving it feeling bare, even through the suit. “I don’t know about you, but I’m still pretty hungry. I feel like I’m up for another bowl. You?”

“Ningependa hivyo,” he said, rising as Sky dropped off of the bunk, grabbing both his bowl and hers in her wings. She gave the controls a quick glance, checking that they were still on the same heading, then slid the door to the common room open.

“Vizuri?” she said, giving her sky-blue mane a toss. “Nje!”

He smiled and followed her out. He’d correct the slip up later.

Chapter 5

View Online

Come on you three, Hunter thought, working his shoulders back and forth and burrowing deeper into the snow bank. Find me! Overhead, the greyish-black sky rumbled again, a jagged cut of lightning arcing through the clouds and briefly flashing across what little of the plains he could see from his current vantage point. Come on … I left a trail wide enough a foal could find it!

Well, he admitted after another gust of snow swept over his position, flakes settling atop his head and forelegs. Maybe a really smart foal. But still, this possie shouldn’t be that hard to find.

He let out a sigh, the sound swallowed up by the drifts of snow around him. So close to the Crystal Mountains, the terrain was a little less even than the rolling hills of the plains. He’d struck out north, away from the group and on hoof, then broken eastward toward the foothills and found himself the little depression he was in now. Snow had been piling up in it for who knew how long, centuries maybe, forming a deep snowdrift on one side that he’d backed up against and partially wormed his way into.

That had been almost fifteen minutes ago. The point of the exercise was for the team to practice following tracks and signs against the elements—currently the same roiling snowstorms that had been growing since they’d arrived—and try to find him before growing completely lost. Hopefully to help aid the team in finding this “King Sombra” figure whenever he broke free from his prison.

Maybe I gave myself too much of a head start, Hunter thought as he glanced over the side of the snow-swept mountains rising above him to the north. I did a bodgy job covering my tracks, but with so much snow coming down and blowing around … He pressed his front hoof into the snow and then pulled it back, watching to see how quickly it filled in.

Nothing.

Granted, you’re in a bit of a hole. That’s why you’re here, he thought as he ran his eyes over the Crystal Mountains once more. So that wouldn’t exactly be the best test. A shiver rolled down his back, and he frowned. And I’m not going to give them much longer. Even under this heavy parka—he glanced down at the thick wool-lined coat he was wearing over his armor—I’m not exactly warm.

Another minute ticked by, the occasional snowflake settling around him. From time to time a gust of wind would kick up, lifting some of the snow around him free and carrying it off into the sky to begin the cycle anew. Wild weather, he thought, looking up at the clouds. Worse than the Everfree.

Thankfully, the rate at which it had been growing worse seemed to have slowed, though it was still certainly getting more crook by the hour. The day prior, when he’d been tasked with piloting The Hummingbird so that Sky Bolt could practice with the team, he’d spent the entire time fighting against the heavy winds. It had been no wonder to him that Steel had asked him to monitor the ship during the night for a few hours so that the pegasus could get some uninterrupted sleep. He had a sneaking suspicion that she’d been more grateful for the break than she let on.

Now she’s somewhere overhead, he thought, twisting his ears and looking up to try and locate the nearby airship. He couldn’t see it, but he could hear it, ever so faintly. It was probably closer than it sounded, with all the snow muffling things, and the faint howling of the wind.

Which makes it all the worse that they haven’t managed to find me yet, he thought as a snowflake came to rest on his visor, melting a moment later into a stream of water that he wiped away with one hoof. He’d have to mention that to Sky, see if the next models couldn’t get a self-cleaning or repelling spell of some kind on the glass or whatever it was that he was looking through.

“Another minute,” he said, his voice swallowed up almost instantly by the winds. That’s all the longer I can stand to spend in this snowdrift, freezing my flanks off—

He froze, his body going stiff. Something was … off. He couldn’t say what. He’d be running his eyes across the northern mountainscape once more when something deep in his gut had twitched. He squinted, peering hard at the wind and snow-swept stones.

What was it? It wasn’t like his instincts to fire off for no reason. He couldn’t quite put his hoof on it, but something … Something is out of place. Did a snowpack shift?

Or maybe you’ve just been stuffed in the snow so long you’ve gone starkers. Still, even as he pulled his gaze away from the side of the mountain the feeling that something was out of place didn’t go away. His wings shifted, pressing against the snowpack he’d shoved himself into. Again his eyes came back to the mountainside. As before, it was steep and jagged, mostly-bare rock packed with thick snow. Here and there scraggly trees poked above the drifts, the stunted, diminutive growths serving only to break up the white-and-grey monotony with their dark green branches.

“Aww, forget it.” He kicked out with his rear hooves, shoving his body forward and out of the snowdrift. It collapsed behind him, a sweeping wave of fine snow particles sweeping over him as he spread his wings. The first few beats kicked up an even greater cloud, but he outpaced it quickly, rising into the wind and beating furiously as he headed north.

“Just to put my mind at ease,” he said aloud as he rose higher. “Aerial reconnaissance. Stay high, stay alive.” No sense in landing and being ambushed by a yeti. Or worse, a pack of iceworms.

He powered through the air, his wingbeats steady and strong, and before long found himself nearing the steep mountain face. He slowed, running his eyes over the terrain. The feeling had faded now, but it had left an aftertaste, like a faint sense of uneasiness that refused to leave.

Nothing. He couldn’t see any signs of things being out of place. I could always drop lower, but ... He shook his head.

“Jumping at shadows.” He flicked one wing, turning in the air, but then stopped.

Of course, if there is something, I could always try that mod out. He glanced at the small dial in the lower-right corner of his helmet. The needle was all the way to the right, the mod’s battery crystal completely charged. After all, I’ve yet to give this thing a real test. And what could it hurt?

He glanced southward. He could barely make out The Hummingbird through the constant snow, even though it was only a mile or two south at most. Visibility. That was another thing they were losing slowly but surely as the storms worsened.

Not far enough away that I couldn’t get to them in a minute or two with my beacon if something went wrong, he thought, one hoof going to the small device attached to his jacket. An enchanted device, the beacon would, once activated, send out an invisible pulse every thirty seconds. Low power magic, according to Nova. But enough that a skilled unicorn could “hone in” on his position by following the strength of the pulse. Better yet, they could send out a pulse of their own that would make the beacon jerk, allowing a lost pony to head toward their rescuers if able.

And a necessary precaution for a team as unused to the current conditions as several of them were. Dawn and Steel were fine, but Nova, Sky, and most of all Sabra, were untested.

He took another look down at the mountainside. Was he too far away for the mod to work? There was only one way to find out.

He reached inside himself, hunting for that same magical “spark” he felt when he used weather magic and gathering it. It had taken him a few tries to figure out how to activate the mod, but with practice, he’d gotten it down. It wasn’t instinctive yet the way Sabra and Sky Bolt were when they used theirs, but he was getting better.

He “poked” at the ball of magic resting in his chest, then thought about the spell between his wings and “shoved” the orb toward it.

And … magic.

A bright sphere of pure energy exploded out of him, vivid green mixing with purple to form a brilliant-blue translucent wall that rushed away from him in all directions. It faded from normal sight almost immediately, but to his own eyes, attuned to the spell, he could still see it sweeping out in all directions, fading but not slowing, until the side of it closest to the mountain sank into the stone. No sooner had it begun to than the magic vanished, leaving him with a view of the world that was somewhat brighter but muted at the same time, as if all the colors had been cranked up in intensity but all the sharp edges between them blurred together. He could see the bright cylinder of white that was his beacon hanging from the front of his jacket, the magic spell on the small device shining like a magilight. But below him …

Nothing. No bright bits of magic, or even dull ones. Nothing but the normal background. No bright shapes through the snow that signified living bodies lying in wait.

That had been the other discovery that had thrilled him when he’d gotten the mod to work. Not only did the mod highlight magic to his eyes, but that included the magic innate to each individual. He could see the glowing ethereal form that was their own magic.

Even if they were currently behind something like a wall.

In essence, while it gave away his own position, it also let him see the position of anyone nearby, no matter how many walls or barriers they were behind. Though a few tests had shown that the armor they wore did lessen the effect somewhat.

“Well, crud,” he said to nopony. “Nothing.” He gave the mountain a final look, the glowing distortion over his eyes fading at last as the spell ran out, and turned southward. The needle in the corner of his visor was all the way to the left, the mod’s battery empty. It would take several minutes to recharge, absorbing ambient magic as he flew.

But I’ve got time, he thought as he began flying south, heading in the direction of the faint rumble of The Hummingbird’s propellers. He kept himself low, only a few dozen feet above the ground to avoid the worst of the wind, and in less than a minute had spotted several ponies making their way along the snow-encrusted plain.

Well, he thought as he dropped down, the team catching sight of him and calling out, their voices caught by the wind. They’re not too far off of where I was. He could see the faint depressions left by his passage, even after so many minutes. Though, if he was being honest, they were slight.

“Lieutenant,” Steel said as Hunter tucked his wings, dropping the last few feet into the snow to avoid stirring the drifts any further than they already were. “Get bored out there?”

“Cold, mainly,” he replied, pulling his hooves up and watching as they sank back into the snow, sinking halfway up his armored fetlocks before stopping. “I figured you didn’t want the team to finally track me down only to find a popsicle.” He motioned towards Nova, waving one wing. “Pass me those snowshoes. How’d they do?” The question was aimed at Steel.

“Not bad,” Steel replied. “Granted, they’re a little off your trail now, but they were doing pretty well all things considered.

“We watched for the depressions, as you said,” Sabra added, pointing at the “track” the three had been following. “But over that last rise …”

Hunter nodded. He knew which one they were talking about. He’d taken his trail right over a rise in the foothills … and then down into one of three narrow fingerlings of the next hill over. Barely a misdirection, but with the snow and wind covering his tracks, it apparently had been enough to throw the team off.

“We were about to double-back,” Nova added as he pulled Hunter’s snowshoes out of his saddlebags. “The plan was to check all three of them.”

Maybe not. He glanced at Steel, and the captain gave him a slight nod. All right, maybe they’re doing better than I thought. “Why not check all three at once?”

“Ambush,” Sabra said as Hunter caught the snowshoes and began putting them on. Each snapped into place with a barely-audible click. “Splitting up while tracking a foe that could be dangerous could leave us at a disadvantage. Especially in unfamiliar terrain.”

Hunter nodded and set his front hooves back atop the snow. This time, they didn’t sink in. “Good. But this wasn’t a combat exercise.”

“Like that means anything,” Nova said, rolling his eyes behind his visor. “Give us some credit, Hunter. We know how much you and the captain like to surprise us. Better safe than sorry. And earning extra laps because we didn’t bother to make the right maneuver.”

“Heh.” He checked his rear hooves and then gave his wings a quick shake, brushing off the snow that had settled on them while he’d been talking. “That’s a pretty solid reason.” Satisfied his snowshoes were properly attached, he took another quick look at the group. “So where’s Dawn?”

“She’s setting up part two of the exercise,” Steel said, grinning behind his visor. “As a former Ranger, her inclusion would have made this challenge pointless. Seeing as how Sabra and myself will be securing the Crystal Empire, there could be traps.”

“So she’s setting up a bunch of traps of her own around where we landed,” Hunter said, returning the grin. “Got it.”

“Which you are not to point out,” Steel added. “This one’s for me and Sabra. I want you and Nova to hang back. You’d throw off the whole test.”

“Hey, works for me,” Nova said, shrugging and moving forward through the snow. “But we’d all better get moving before too much longer. It’s going to be dark soon.”

“Yes, please,” Sabra said, a shiver running down the stallion’s back, visible even through the thick parka he was wearing. “I do not want to remain outside after night falls.”

“Me either,” Hunter said. A howl of wind kicked up around them, a long, echoing cry that brought a fresh barrage of snowflakes screaming by. “Let’s move out. Take us home, Sabra.”

“To Canterlot?” Sabra asked. He sounded serious, but Hunter could see the faint smile in the stallion’s lips behind his helmet.

“Not quite yet,” Steel said, turning and pointing back the way they’d come. “Dusk Guard, move out!”

They began moving back across the Crystal Plains, wind now howling at their back … though not always. It seemed to shift and leap almost randomly, sometimes ahead, sometimes above, sometimes at their sides, and always with a fresh crop of snowflakes.

“Ugh,” Nova said after a few minutes, reaching up and rubbing a hoof at his horn. “There it is again.”

“There’s what again?” Hunter asked, eyeing Nova as his motions knocked a clump of snow free of his snowshoe, dropping it across his visor. “That itch?”

Nova nodded. “It’s like … Crud, I don’t know how to describe it. A tingly feeling up and down my horn.”

“Like a static charge?”

“That works.” Nova lowered his hoof, though his eyes still were directed upward. “A small static charge running up and down my horn.”

“Same as before?” Hunter asked, frowning.

“Yup.” Nova shook his head. “And … it’s gone. Just like the last couple of times.”

“And you’re sure it’s not that helmet?” He glanced at the opening in the crystal where Nova’s horn emerged. The base around the opening was bulky, bulging outward from the helmet itself, while four narrow, crystal pieces jutted out alongside the horn, guarding it from impacts and helping provide a sort of ‘amplifier’ effect similar to old dueling rings. “You’ve never worn your armor for so long while doing magic—”

Nova shook his head, cutting him off. “No, that’s not it,” he said. “First of all, Dawn’s got the same design, and it hasn’t bothered her. And she’s using that booster.”

“The supercharger.”

“Right. That.” Nova shook his head again. “Besides, it doesn’t feel like that. It’s not my magic. It’s … wild magic.”

“Like wild weather?”

“Sort of,” Nova said with a shrug. “Sometimes a big spell or a sloppy enchantment or something will let off tendrils, you know. Just … pure energy. You can’t see it, not unless something goes really wrong or it’s a really impressive spell, but it’s there. Normally it’s so tiny, you don’t notice it.”

“But here it’s making your horn itch?”

Another nod. “Yeah. It’s gotta have something to do with this ‘sealing’ that Steel told us about. The magic coming undone or something.”

“That makes sense. As far as I understand magic, anyway. Which isn’t too much past the basics.” Another gust of wind roared past, and Hunter put a hoof to his hat out of reflex, the string tied around his chin going taut as the storm overpowered the enchantment that was supposed to hold it in place.

“Could you ask Dawn?” he said as soon as the gust had passed. “I mean,” he added as he saw Nova’s confused look, “she might have something that can detect wild magic flows.”

Nova shook his head. “Not in her gear. We already talked about it. She’s not felt any of the surges yet, but … Hey, you know what? She doesn’t, but you do.”

“I d—” He caught himself before he could go any further. “My mod?”

“Hey, it could work,” Nova said, his hooves sinking deep into a fluff of powder as they reached a lull between two low hills. Ahead of them, Steel was plowing a path with his chest, pushing snow aside to leave a narrow channel, Sabra following in his hoofsteps.

“You said your vision was fuzzy when you used the mod, right? Or blurred?” Nova asked as they both fell into single file along Steel’s channel.

“Not quite, but yeah. Something like that.”

“That’s magic. Ambient magic,” Nova said. “At least, that’s what I guess. So if you fire up that thing when my horn is itching, and—”

“If it is a bunch of magic all gathered together, I might be able to see it!” Hunter finished. “Onya, Nova. That’s a good idea. Just let me know when your horn is itching next, and I’ll give this thing a go." He bent one hoof back, pointing at the mod.”

“Speaking of which, was that flash from near the mountains you?” Nova asked. “A minute or two before you reached us?”

“Could you tell? Like, sense it?” If the mod had that wide of a side effect—

“No,” Nova said, shaking his head. They rose out of the depression, the powder on both sides falling away as they rose up atop snow once more. The roar of The Hummingbird’s propellers was a lot closer now, and Hunter glanced upward to see the faint shape of the airship’s envelope flickering through the storm. “We just saw the flash. It didn’t seem like thunder, but at the same time …”

“It could have been,” Hunter admitted, tilting his head back and looking up at the dark, seething sky. “But no, I did use it while I was out there.”

“Testing it out?”

“More or less. I was also checking to see if somepony was around.”

Nova frowned. “One of us? Or …”

He shrugged. “Not really sure. Something about the mountainside felt … off. You know, that feeling you get in your gut when something’s gone crook?”

“Yeah,” Nova said with a nod. “I know it.”

“Right. Well, I figured I’d check it out—from up high—just in case it was a yeti or a pack of iceworms. Or frostwolves, I guess, though those are pretty rare. I didn’t find anything, though. Might have just been the weather getting to me.” A deep, low rumble echoed across the sky, as if the storms were adding their own thoughts to his own.

“Could it have been our target?”

“King Sombra?” Hunter shook his head. “Not likely. He’s not supposed to break out until this Crystal Empire is back.”

“Right, that’s what Steel said. But …” Nova’s voice lowered. “What if the Princesses were wrong?”

“Wrong?”

“It’s not impossible,” Nova said with a shrug. “They’re not infallible. They’re immortal, but that doesn’t mean that they’re flawless. They make mistakes all the time.”

“I know, but—”

“Besides, according to Steel, King Sombra changed their spell. What if he’s already out?”

Crikey. Kid’s got a good point. “If that' is the case, then …” He took a quick look around. They were definitely getting close to their drop point, based on what he could remember and the way that Steel and Sabra had slowed. “I guess there’s not much we can do about it but keep our guard up. But that’s a fair point. I should mention that to Steel. If he hasn’t been thinking about it already.”

Ahead of them, both Steel and Sabra had slowed to a stop, looking down the long, even slope before them. Several hundred yards away, Hunter could just make out the figure of Dawn Triage standing in her pinkish armor, watching. Steel leaned out and said something to Sabra that was swept away by the wind, and the Zebra responded by drawing his Fimbo from his back and extending it to its full length.

Not bad, he thought as his eyes picked out the slight difference in the sheen of the snow ahead of the pair. Someone—more accurately somepony—had disturbed the snow there recently, and though they’d smoothed the hard crust back over with their magic and let the wind do a little more, it hadn’t been enough to fool his eyes. Or those of the captain, apparently.

Though I wonder ... he thought, a grin coming to his face. Did they follow that all the way? He could see the subtle shift in the snow as it went across the snow in front of them … as well as doubling back to behind them. He elbowed Nova as Sabra reached out with his fimbo, poking at the recently disturbed snow.

A rope snapped up through the snow, its two ends exploding upward with far more force and wrapping around Sabra’s Fimbo. There was just a hint of a glow to the trap, the rope moving just ever so slightly unnaturally as Sabra yanked his staff back.

Just in time for a whole mess of ropes to launch into the air around his hindquarters. To his credit, he didn’t panic. Sabra leapt forward, coming down atop the snow with only one rear hoof caught in a loop. Steel, meanwhile, had jumped as well, the ropes having missed him entirely.

“Nice,” Nova said as Sabra pulled his hoof free. “Two in one.”

“She’s good,” Hunter said with a nod. “You can’t run from Dawn’s med-bay.” His hoof extricated, Sabra and Steel began making their way toward the distant sergeant, scanning the snow in front of them.

“No,” Nova said, shaking his head. Then he frowned and turned to look at him, “By the way, has she said anything about being unhappy at something I did recently?”

“At you?” He paused for a moment, looking back over the last few days. “Not that I recall. Why?”

“She’s been acting strange around me,” Nova said. “Quiet. Cold. And yes,” he said as Hunter opened his mouth. “I know she was the Ice Queen of the Rangers. But we’ve been on pretty good terms, or so I thought. But ever since the missions started, she’s been … I don’t know. Polite, but standoffish.”

“You ask her about it?”

Nova shook his head. “No. Not yet.”

“Well, she hasn’t said anything to me. Want me to ask her?”

“Not yet,” Nova said after a moment. There was a burst of snow as one of Dawn’s traps caught Steel’s leg. “Maybe it’s just the mission.”

“Could be,” Hunter admitted. Down the hill, Steel and Sabra were charging forward, the massive earth pony breaking through clumps of snow like a ship through waves at sea and the more nimble zebra dancing across the snowpack in his wake. “This is, technically, our first real mission. We kind of volunteered ourselves for the last one. And it’s … Well, it’s a big one. With how little we know, and all the preparations we’ve been going through, we—”

He stopped abruptly, his mind catching up with what he’d been saying. We’re all stuffed. Crikey, Hunter, this was what Steel recruited you for in the first place, and you go and get all bodgy the moment things get serious.

Nova was looking at him, one eyebrow lifted. “What?” he asked.

“I think I see the problem,” Hunter said. When Nova turned to look down the slope, where Steel and Sabra were both trying to extricate themselves from a spiderwebbed tangle of snares, he shook his head. “Not with those two. They’re doing … about as well as we can expect, really.” As they watched, Steel tossed his front snowshoes aside, extending his gauntlet spikes and laying into the ropes around him. “And that’s not going to work.” A small net of twine erupted out of the snow, clad in the orange glow of Dawn’s magic and snaring one of Steel’s gauntlets.

“But no,” he said as Steel went down, Sabra leaping to his aid. “I wasn’t talking about them. I was talking about the team. We do have a problem, even if it’s not the same one you’re having with Dawn. Might be related, though.” He glanced over at Nova. “Offer’s still open for me to ask her about it.”

The unicorn appeared to think about it for a moment before shaking his head. “No, I’ll ask her myself.”

“Suit yourself,” Hunter said, turning to look back down the slope. Steel was down, thoroughly caught, while Sabra was still flipping over the snowpack … though he wasn’t getting any closer to Dawn.

“Well,” Hunter said, shifting his weight and giving his wings a good stretch. “I think this is just about over. Let’s mosey on down there and see about getting started on fixing the problem.” Another gust of wind swept over the plains, stirring up the snow already disturbed by Sabra and Steel’s antics, followed by another dull roar of thunder from above.

They followed the path carved by Steel and Sabra, snow beating against their bodies as they made their way down to where the pair were being unraveled by Dawn. The medical unicorn looked up at them as they approached, her horn aglow as she undid a collection of snares around Sabra’s forelegs. “Welcome back.”

“Having fun?” Hunter asked as a few more loops slipped off of Sabra’s hooves.

“Of a sort,” Dawn replied, her response as curt and polite as it normally was. “And it would appear I can look forward to more of it in the future.”

“Right,” Hunter said as Steel picked himself up out of the snow, shaking his body off. “Well, that’s actually something I noticed on the way down here. We’ve been making a big mistake with our training.” He directed the last few words at Steel, and the olive-green armored pony gave him a curious look even as he stepped over to where his snowshoes had landed. “Unfortunately, I didn’t notice it until a few minutes ago.”

“Really?” Steel asked, the spikes on his gauntlets snapping back into a “sheathed” position. He let out a sigh. “Well, with everything else we’ve been doing, it’s not too surprising that we’ve missed something. What is it?”

“Actually, it’s pretty simple,” Hunter said, rolling his forehooves in the snow. “Fun.”

His snowball caught Steel right in the visor, impacting with a soft wump and completely covering the glass. Everypony, Steel included, locked in place.

“We’ve been so busy working to get ready for something we’re only part-way informed about, we’ve been going starkers,” he said, hefting another snowball in his hooves. “Let’s face it: We’re trying to make everything as spot on as possible, when we don’t even know half of what we’ll be facing. It’s squaring the circle, and focusing on it has everyone on edge. So,” he said, hefting his hoof. “I think we need to relax before somepony cracks a fruity. And since we’ve got a lot of snow here …” He pulled back, making ready to throw the next shot.

Bap. Snow billowed around his head as a snowball slammed into the back of his helmet. “I agree,” Sabra said, looking at his own now-empty hoof with a measure of awe. “One must relax to properly shoot an arrow. Or,” he said, smiling,. “Throw a snowball.”

For a moment all of them were still. Then it was like a switch had been flipped. Hunter shot into the air, letting the wind carry him to the side as a snowball shot through the space where he had just been. He whipped around and let fly with his own, striking the snow where Steel had just been standing. The captain had leapt to the side, hastily ducking behind a nearby bank of ice.

Hunter threw himself into a tight spin as two more snowballs flew past, Sabra hunting for an opening, and then took to the ground, taking cover behind one of the winter-equipment duffels and quickly making use of the snow behind it.

Nova, meanwhile, had moved, his horn glowing as he readied several snowballs, his attention on Steel. And, Hunter noticed, not on Dawn, who was readying several snowballs of her own. The first hit his flank, and with a startled shout Nova dove to the ground, Dawn’s next two shots missing. And leaving her wide open for a retaliatory strike from Steel, which caught her in the chest.

“Captain!” Dawn called, fake scandal in her voice as she ducked behind a nearby pile of snow. “How could you?” A second snowball caught her in the back of the head, and she spun to see Sabra grinning at her. Sabra, who unlike the rest of the team, had not gone into any cover.

“Oh,” was all the zebra had time to say as three of them unleashed a barrage of snow fire. He took four rapid blows … and then with a leap he was arcing away through the air, twenty feet above the snowpack, purple lines flashing along the black of his undersuit.

He used his mod, Hunter thought as Sabra landed some thirty feet away, snow kicking up at his impact. Clever, but I’ve got wings to even that out! The pile at his forehooves was complete, and he scraped it into his armored limbs, crouching and launching himself up into the sky with steady wingbeats. A snowball shot past, a slight spin all he needed to avoid it … and then with a sudden orange glow, it switched directions, catching him in the back.

“Onya, Dawn!” he called as he dodged another magic-fired snowball. “But air power will reign supreme!” He was high enough now that he could see all three of them over their cover, and he began throwing snowballs down at all three of them. Dawn lit her horn and teleported several feet, snapping out of existence while Steel ran for it. Nova was the only one to stay in place, an orange shield wall covering him from above and absorbing several snowballs. Yellow lines ran down his own suit. His own mod in use, Hunter realized.

Still, I can keep them on the run, he thought as he skimmed to one side, dodging several retaliatory strikes from Steel and Dawn. Sabra was running back toward the group, a large ball of snow balanced carefully on his back. From the look of it, he was heading for Nova.

Hunter laughed as he fired another snowball toward Dawn, this time hitting her right in her armored muzzle. She glared at him, a trio of snowballs arcing toward him, only for two of them to change direction mid-flight and head for Steel, who had been coming up behind her with a few snowballs of his own. He rolled to the side, firing several snowballs back.

“Air power!” Hunter called again, going into a dive and grabbing a load of snow. Sabra was almost at Nova’s back, while Nova meanwhile seemed to be alternating his fire between Steel and Dawn. Sabra went into a run … and then abruptly changed direction, rocketing up into the air in a leap that brought him right at Hunter, his foreleg drawn back with the bowling-ball-sized orb of snow in it.

Hunter’s jaw dropped at the sudden maneuver, his body locking in surprise. Too late he tried to tilt his wings to adjust, and Sabra brought his foreleg forward, his cargo slamming into Hunter’s helmet with enough force to drive him back and down. He hit the snow with a heavy whump, landing on his back as Sabra landed beside him.

“Air traffic … control,” Sabra said as Hunter wiped snow from his visor and sat up. “Says you’re grounded.” Then he laughed, and Hunter stared at the zebra before adding his own laughter to the mix.

A snowball pelted Sabra’s side, and he spun away, Fimbo snapping out and knocking two more from the air with a complex pattern. He then flipped, scooping his staff through the snow and using it to sling a clump at Nova. The phalanx shield popped into being once more, stopping the shot as surely as a stone wall.

Hunter pushed himself back up and out of the snow, noting the faint imprint he’d left behind. Okay, pulling out all the stops, huh? he thought, snapping his wings out and gathering two hooffuls of snow. Well then let’s go all out!

He snapped his wings down and back, throwing himself forward as fast as he could. Sabra heard—or saw, he wasn’t sure which—him coming and ducked away from his attack. Hunter pumped his wings again, moving clear of the zebra so that his own back wasn’t open, and dove for Nova.

The shield didn’t help against somepony determined to move around it, and Hunter brought both his forehooves down, dumping a load of snow across Nova’s head and back as he flew past. A snowball caught him in the wing, and he went into a quick spiral, Steel’s next two shots catching him only with glancing blows. Laughter echoed across the plains, mixing with the howl of the wind and almost pushing it back.

“Hey!” For a moment everyone froze, looking up as they spotted Sky Bolt winging her way down through the air above them. “You guys are having a snowball fight? Without me?” She landed in the middle of the group, shaking her head. “How could you?”

Hunter glanced at the rest of the team. Sabra looked almost like he was torn between speaking up and looking guilty, while Steel and Dawn just looked surprised. Nova, on the other hoof, had narrowed his eyes, readying a snowball of his own. Just in case, I guess.

“Well …” Steel said, shaking a pile of snow off of his hindquarters. “It was a spontaneous thing, and you were piloting The Hummingbird.”

Sky Bolt frowned, pawing at the ground with her hoof. “Well … I do have to keep a close eye on her.” She glanced upward, and Hunter followed, eyeing the airship holding somewhat steady a few hundred feet above them. “So …”

“I-guess-I’ll-have-to-be-fast!” The words came out in an almost indecipherable blur, strung together as something slapped against the side of Hunter’s head, almost bowling him over.

He shook his head, snow falling away as Bolt came to a stop right where she’d been when she’d started, a wide grin on her face as red lines of magic faded from her undersuit.

Speed mod, Hunter thought, letting out a laugh as he saw the surprised and confused looks on the rest of the team’s muzzles as they brushed snow off of themselves. Bolt’s quick lap around them had thrown the snow into a momentary cyclone, one that was already fading as the winds returned to normal.

“Well played,” Steel said, brushing snow off of his shoulders with a chuckle. A moment later it had morphed into a full-fledged, deep belly laugh, and the rest of the group, Bolt included, joined in.

“Okay,” Steel said once the laughter had faded. “Hunter was right. Is right. We needed that.” He shook his head again. “We’re going to cut back. Tomorrow we’ll take a break. You can practice if you want to, and we’ll still get some work done, but for the most part, I want us to relax. For all we know, we could be out here for a few weeks. Makes no sense to wear one another raw before anything even really happens.”

“With that in mind,” he said, his gaze focusing on Sky Bolt. “I think right now I could use a warm shower and some dinner. And for that, we need our airship. Corporal Bolt, if you’d bring her down for us?”

“With pleasure, captain.” Bolt snapped the captain a quick salute before taking off straight up into the sky, a trail of scattered snowflakes riding along in her wake. In a moment she was beside The Hummingbird and opening its side door.

“And the rest of us,” Steel said as Hunter brought his eyes back down. “Let’s gather up our gear before she lands that thing. Good job, everypony. That was fun. Let’s go eat.”

Yeah, Hunter thought as The Hummingbird began to descend, magilights springing into being around its base. That feels right. The tension around the group had evaporated, faded away like snow beneath a hot sun. We might be facing the unknown, but if we don’t forget to relax… He picked up one of the winter duffels, throwing the strap over his shoulder and brushing snow off of it.

I think we’ll be just fine.

Chapter 6

View Online

Sabra let out a sigh of contentment as he let his weight sink, stretching his back and haunches. Moving through the freezing snow had left him a lot more sore than he’d expected.

Then again, maybe the cold was to blame for that.

Then again, perhaps not. A small part of him said it was foolish to lay the blame there, but at the moment he didn’t care. The cold and snow could take the blame for his soreness, whether or not they were responsible for it.

He leaned forward again, pushing his head under the warm spray that made up the front of the shower and letting out another sigh as the hot water ran down his neck and sides. Warmth! Sun-blessed warmth! Part of him simply wanted to stay there, burying his head under the showerhead and pretending that the flow of warm water would last forever. But … it wouldn’t. And Nova was still waiting for his turn at a shower, so he couldn’t simply wait as long as he wanted to.

Still, he could wait a minute or so more. The Hummingbird had a strong—and expensive—filtration system, so the water would be recycled. And there was a nearly endless supply of it. But …

As wonderful as it feels, he thought, tilting his head back and letting the steaming water splash over his closed eyes and muzzle. It is only temporary.

He pulled his head away and turned, pivoting inside the small shower and giving his body a final, warm rinse to make sure that he was free of suds. How does the captain even fit in this thing? he wondered as he took a quick look around the small, enclosed confines. It must be a very tight fit.

He gave his back legs a final glance to make sure that no soap remained, then shut off the water, the warm spray weakening before dying out completely. Sky said to wait a few moments for the steam to fade before opening the door, he thought, running a hoof down his side and pressing water out of his coat. It bounced against the rubber matting that made up the bottom of the shower before pooling and running down the drain.

He continued running his hoof down his coat until the steam had faded, collected through a fan above him or condensed on the walls of the shower. Once the air was clear, he undid the latch on the shower door, bracing himself for what was to come.

Cold. The opening shower door brought with it a rush of freezing air that made his skin prickle, and he all but jumped free of the shower, grabbing his towel and hurriedly trying to press as much water out of his coat as possible. He worked fast, rubbing the towel back and forth over his limbs and sides to generate as much heat as possible and work the chill out. Gradually the cold feeling began to fade, but the air still had a sharp bite to it. His coat smoothed out, standing on its own rather than stuck tightly against his body. He spent another minute working the towel across his body, getting as much water as he could out of his coat and mane, then tossed it over his shoulders and headed for the door.

“The shower is yours,” he said to Nova as he stepped out of the bathroom. The unicorn had been waiting by the door, a towel on his back, clearly ready. “Enjoy.”

“Thanks,” Nova said, stepping past him in the hall. The bathroom door shut with a click a moment later.

Now to dry the towel. Rather than heading forward, toward the galley and crew area, he moved aft, his wet towel slung across his back. A small cabinet at the end of the ‘T’ and opposite the ship from the garbage room opened with a blast of warm air, revealing a small row of numbered drying racks. Half of them were occupied by towels, another half by the winter parkas the group had worn during their exercise. Multiple vents blasted hot air up on the clothes, using spare heat from the boilers to dry their equipment.

He added his own towel to the racks before turning and letting the warm current rolling out of the dryer run across his still-damp back, giving the coat there a final once-over before shutting the cabinet again. His towel would dry quickly under the onslaught, leaving it ready to use once more when he next needed it.

Until then, the cold returns, he thought as the momentary sense of warmth vanished, bringing with it the familiar chill of the airship. A shiver ran unbidden down his back, bringing with it an uncomfortable crawling of his flesh, and he turned and trotted for the galley. At least it would be a bit warmer there.

Not just warmer, he thought as the galley entrance came into sight. But more lively as well. He could hear several voices talking, mirth shining through the words. A scent tickled his nostrils, his stomach growling in response, and he picked up his pace.

The galley was well-lit and surprisingly warm. Or perhaps that was simply his body reacting to what little new warmth it could find after the cold of the hall. Nonetheless, the chill did fade slightly as he stepped in.

It was warm in atmosphere as well. Steel and Dawn were both seated on opposite sides of the table, the captain throwing his head back as he let out a laugh. Between them was a colorful but small cardboard box of some kind, halfway open. Hunter, meanwhile, was occupied with the actual galley, his attention fixed on something frying atop the small stove.

“—not even the end of it!” Hunter was saying, his head twisting and turning as he split his attention between whatever he was cooking and the ponies seated around the table. “So then, Dawn here looks at our loudmouthed new recruit and says ‘Well, then why don’t you go get it?’ And this recruit panics, looks her dead in the eye, and says …”

Dawn spoke up, a look of amusement on her own face. “‘All the way up there?”

Steel laughed again, a deep, rich rumble that competed with the cry of the storm outside the ship. “The pegasus?” Lighter laughter echoed from the cockpit, its door open.

“The very same,” Dawn continued, her smile of amusement widening into a smile. Her eyes flicked to Sabra. “Welcome, Sabra. Have a seat.” She motioned with one hoof toward the side of the table.

“We’re just swapping old stories about recruits and newbies,” the captain said as he sat down. “Dumb mistakes, pranks, embarrassing moments. For example, when I first took a job in the Griffon Empire—”

“I think I remember this one,” Hunter said, smirking.

“Quiet you. Anyway,” Steel continued, his eyes on Sabra. “When I first took a job in the Griffon Empire, I wasn’t quite familiar with the language yet. Actually, 'almost no grasp' would be more accurate. But it was a paying job, so … Anyway, I report to my employer, and she assigns me to this old griffon warrior who had about as good a grasp on Equiish as I had on Griffon. I introduce myself, he does likewise, and then he tells me to follow him. So I did. And he takes me to this bathroom. And explains to me—or at least I thought he had—that I’m to guard the latrine all night. That’s my post. He goes to walk away, and I stay there, so he tells me to come find him when my shift is done.”

“Except that wasn’t what he’d told you at all, was it?” Sabra asked. I think I see where this is going.

“No, it wasn’t,” Steel said, ears folding back. “It turned out, what they wanted me to guard was this old griffon’s office. He was a logistical commander, and they’d been having an issue with someone raiding their supplies at night. My job was to patrol the office and the attached supplies to keep an eye out for things and maybe catch the crook.”

“What happened instead?”

“I spent two hours guarding a latrine, getting all kinds of strange looks from the everyone who came by to use it, and really questioning my career choices. Then after two hours, that old griffon, who was seriously starting to wonder where I was and why they hadn’t seen me, tracked me down.” Hunter’s laughter split the air, and Steel rolled his eyes. “Thankfully, none of them were too upset about it and understood the mistake almost immediately. Turns out that he’d just wanted to show me where the latrine was in case I needed to go before or during my shift. Didn’t stop the jokes from following me for a while. Or the smell, for that matter.”

“Oooh.” Sabra shook his head. “Did you ever catch the thief?”

Steel let out a laugh. “We did. Didn’t take long, either. Turned out to be one of the talon-members at the outpost who’d had a dispute over their pay. They were sneaking into the supplies and swiping low-key items to ‘make up’ for the difference. He put up a fight when I caught him, but I took him down, and that got my contract picked up elsewhere.”

“But that,” the captain said, shifting and rolling his shoulders. “Leads into other stories for another time.”

“Though there were probably plenty of mistakes there, too,” Hunter added.

“Oh sure.” The captain waved a hoof. “But guarding a latrine for two hours because you didn’t understand your orders is pretty hard to beat.”

“Didn’t you wonder why you were guarding a latrine?” Sabra asked.

“Oh sure,” Steel replied. “But I figured it was just some sort of hazing or someone in the command chain wanting to test my resolve. The Guard does that in the academy. They’ll pick cadets at random and assign them to protect something that doesn’t really need protecting at all—like a rose bush, or some cadet’s bunk—and then leave them there for a while. The way the cadet reacts to it tells you a lot about the cadet.”

“This sounds like a personal experience,” Dawn said. “What were you assigned to watch?”

“A teacher’s stuffed parrot,” Steel said, his voice flat. “In the middle of the academy quad. For five hours. In the sun. And if anyone mimicked a parrot, I had to turn and offer the parrot crackers.” He paused for a moment. “I may have been a little obstinate with the teacher and gotten my just desserts. Anyway …” he said, shooting a narrow-eyed look at Hunter before giving Sabra his attention once more. “I assumed that being asked to guard the latrine was sort-of the same thing.”

“A humility test,” Sabra said, nodding. “I understand.”

“Pretty much,” Steel confirmed. “If a pony reacts poorly too it, like it’s beneath them or something, it’s time to consider that being a Guard might not be for them. Or that they’re doing it for the wrong reasons. Granted, there are plenty of places where being a guard isn’t just standing keeping watch on one location, but that doesn’t mean you won’t have to do it.” He shrugged. “Anyway, I stood there for two hours, guarding the latrine. Left a few impressions.”

“So you used it as well as—” Hunter’s muzzle snapped shut, Dawn’s horn glowing.

“How about you?” Dawn asked, turning to look at Sabra. “Did life in your monastery ever lend itself to embarrassing moments?”

“I …” He thought back. “It did,” he admitted after a moment. “I accidentally incapacitated my Fimbo instructor.”

“Incapacitated?” Steel asked, leaning forward. “How?”

“Foolishly,” he said as all eyes in the room turned toward him. “It was in my early days there. Training and mastery of the body is as important as training and mastery of the mind, and so all are required to participate in both. During those first weeks of physical training, as a novice student, my teachers noted my skill with the staff. We do … did complicated routines. Practice exercises. Some are quite complicated. Others more simple. I picked mine up with ease, and my teachers were impressed. So they asked a Fourth Hoof of the art of the Fimbo to observe me.”

“Naturally,” he said, the words flowing a little easier from his mouth as he settled into a comfortable rhythm. “I was excited.” All eyes in the room were on him now, even Hunter’s as he juggled lifting a fried bread of some kind from the pan and looking at him. “So my teacher goes and brings the Fourth Hoof over to see my progress, and he asks me to demonstrate by going through a few of the harder forms for beginners.”

“So I did, and performed them flawlessly. Which was where the problem began.” He leaned forward, grinning as his own memory of the moment flashed through his mind. “My success emboldened my young mind, and so I thought to move past what I had already accomplished.”

“Uh-oh …” Hunter’s dismay echoed across the galley. “I’ve been there. That almost never goes well.”

“Shush, Hunter,” Dawn said, still looking at Sabra. “So, Sabra. What happened?”

“In my … elation? Yes, elation, I attempted to spin my Fimbo around my hoof,” he said, holding out one hoof and sliding the other across the top in an approximation of the movement they’d seen him perform dozens of times. “Except … I was not as skilled as I might have hoped. My motion was too grand, the momentum of the staff to great. It flipped off of my hoof in a downward arc, skipped off of the ground—first the front end, and then the rear, which snapped the front end further up … And into the Fourth Hoof Fimbo instructor.”

“Oh,” Dawn said, leaning back. “That’s not so bad.”

“He was so surprised that he didn’t move,” Sabra continued. “It bounced between his front legs … and rose to strike him squarely between his back.”

“Oh …” Hunter said, eyes wide and spatula in his mouth momentarily forgotten. “Are you saying you struck him …?”

“Squarely,” Sabra repeated, drawing out the word. “Both were hit.”

“Oh sun above,” Hunter said, rear legs folding in slightly as the pegasus cringed. Dawn meanwhile, had started to laugh, while Steel appeared battling between holding back the same and reacting with a cringe of his own. “Sun and moon! What did he do?”

“Well,” he replied. “For a moment, nothing. Then he let out a very long, high-pitched squeak that just … kept going. His lung capacity was truly impressive.” Dawn was laughing harder now, her normal, formal composure completely shattered, while the captain was trying even harder to not laugh and failing.

“After that, he sort of pulled inward on himself and curled up in … Well, I suppose he was better at his flexibility exercises than many gave him credit for. I don’t know if he ever matched that particular pose again, either. And he just laid there, on his side, making no noise save that constant, high-pitched squeak.”

“And me?” He shook his head, folding his ears back and putting an expression of horror on his face. “I started bawling. I thought for sure I was going to be thrown out of the monastery.” He dropped the look of fear and shrugged, giving them all a grin. “I stood right there, panicking and not knowing what to do.” He leaned back, watching as all three other occupants of the room continued to laugh. He could even hear Sky’s laughter from the cockpit, light and warming. She’d heard the story before, however. He’d told it to her to lift her spirits one night when she’d been unable to sleep.

It was good to know she still found it funny.

“So,” Hunter said once he’d regained his composure. Dawn was still chuckling, wiping at her eyes with one hoof, and Steel was just shaking his head and laughing. “What did end up happening?”

“The local shaman made him a potion that kept him from suffering any permanent harm,” Sabra said. “And after a day’s rest he was teaching once more. And he did assist in my teaching, though he was known to flinch every time I would spin my staff around my hooves. And sometimes, during the more showy moves, he would step back and sort of cross his forelegs a little, sort of like this?” He pressed his front legs together, crossing them slightly and holding them up.

Dawn lost what composure she’d regained, giggles bursting free of her muzzle even as she clapped her hooves over it.

“How’d he take you becoming a master of the Fimbo?” Steel asked, still grinning.

“He was understanding,” Sabra answered, leaning forward and putting his forehooves on the table as he looked at the rest of the team. “However, unless my ears deceived me—and with my talent being what it is, I find that unlikely—I’m fairly certain I heard him say something beneath his breath about being glad I moved out of his teaching so quickly.”

“Did you ever see him again?” Hunter asked as he scooped another fried piece of bread, or perhaps a roll, from the frying pan.

“Naturally,” he replied, nodding. “He was a member of the monastery. We all knew one another and saw one another daily.”

“That said,” he added as the laughter finally died down to chuckling and warm smiles. “I never did cross my staff with his after I left his … tute … tute—? What is the word for one who is a student?”

“Tutelage,” Dawn said, still smiling, her ears flicking atop her head.

“Asante.” He gave her a small bow of the head. “After I left his tutelage I never crossed staffs with him again. Many others would practice with me, but never he.”

“In his defense,” Steel said, shifting. “I probably wouldn’t either. A hit like that …” He shook his lead and let out a heavy breath. “Those stay with you.”

“Personal experience, captain?” Hunter asked. Sabra watched as he slid another ball of dough down into the pan, a sharp crackling sound filling the room like the breaking of thousands of twigs as it hit the hot oil.

“On more than one occasion,” Steel said with a nod, shifting once more. “Let’s just say there was a griffon talon I served with that learned the full range of Equiish foul language that day, and though they were a pretty good crew, to this day I can’t meet them without feeling just a little uncomfortable.”

“I understand,” Sabra said, giving the captain a nod. “One of my childhood friends and I were playing one day and he dared me to climb atop a wall. One thing led to another and … Well, it was not his fault, but you couldn’t tell my nethers that.”

“Stallions,” Dawn said, rolling her eyes. “Thank the Creator that this is one pain I will never need to experience.”

“Definitely thank them,” Hunter said, flipping another chunk of fried bread out onto a waiting plate. “It’s the lesson every young colt learns.”

“Sometimes again and again,” Steel added.

“How about you, sergeant?” Sabra said, shifting his attention to Dawn. “Have you already shared a story?”

“I—” Dawn began, but the captain cut her off.

“No,” he said, his grin widening. “She’s been tag-teaming with Hunter, but she hasn’t offered a story of her own yet.”

“I suppose that’s fair.” Dawn leaned back, her eyes growing distant. “A story about one of my own rookie mistakes, then? Hmm … Yes, I think I have one of those.” She moved forward once more, resting her forehooves on the table. “Well, as many of you can attest, I’ve always had a bit of a headstrong, or perhaps one could say stern, nature.”

“You didn’t earn your nickname for nothing,” Hunter added.

“No,” Dawn said with a quick shake of her head. “I did not. And it was even worse when I was young. I knew exactly what I wanted to be, what my cutie mark was for, and how I would go about it.” She smiled. “Not that I always was as confident as I let on.”

“Uh-oh.” Steel let out a chuckle. “Headstrong and nervous?”

“Indeed,” Dawn replied. “So, despite all of my knowledge and capabilities, there were still times when I was beset with all manner of doubts. And one such time was when I was given the freedom to do my first examination.”

“I was fresh from my education, mind,” she continued, her blue eyes sliding over each of them. “Manehatten General was my first real experience being a doctor rather than a student. I had performed flawlessly under the tutelage of a superior, and after several weeks, he elected to let me work directly with patients on my own, without his oversight.”

“Naturally, I wanted to impress him, as well as perform to the best of my ability. I was nervous, yes, but knew I could do it. I arrived that morning, and before long my first patient was led into the room, along with their spouse.”

“I was on it in an instant. I asked all the right questions. I sat them down and conducted a full examination, as indicated on their chart. I did everything perfectly, diagnosed their problem flawlessly, and led them back out.”

Steel was chuckling now, and Sabra glanced at him. So where was the mistake? The captain, it appeared, had seen it, but he hadn’t yet.

“I met my superior outside the door and gave him a full rundown, right in front of the patient. I was quite pleased with myself. And it was at this moment that he informed me of my error. He nodded, told me that he was impressed with my work, that my examination had been quite thorough, but that I had missed one small detail, which I can see the captain has already deduced.” Her eyes fixed on Steel, as if waiting for him to speak.

“You examined the wrong—” he began, but she cut him off, her words tumbling out in a rush.

“I examined the wrong pony, yes,” she said, shaking her head back and forth as Hunter began to laugh. “The single most important question I could have asked, and I skipped right over it.”

“Was their name not given to you?” Sabra asked, speaking through his own smile. To have gone so far without noticing …

“It was on the chart I was given,” Dawn said, a chuckle of her own skipping out of her muzzle. “But they were there with their spouse, and I never asked which of them was which. One of them was keeping their weight off of one hoof and, well … I assumed.” She let out another chuckle. “And I was so forthright and declarative with my examination that neither of them dared speak up. I wasn’t unfriendly, just …”

“Cold?” Steel suggested.

“Focused,” Dawn replied, frowning for a moment before her look of humor returned. “In any case, it taught me a lot about my own pride. And thankfully, the couple understood once Doctor Stable had explained my situation. They found the whole thing hilarious. And to be fair, I had identified that the stallion I’d examined had injured his frog, so in the end, everything was all right. At the time I thought I would die of embarrassment, however.”

“What was the condition of the other patient?” Sabra asked. “Did you complete the exam?”

“Actually, I did,” she answered. “As it turned out, the stallion’s wife was feeling out of sorts and was pregnant. So they went away with good news … and a soft boot for the husband’s injured frog.”

“So a good end for all involved,” Hunter said, flipping two more of the buns out of the pan. He had yet to drop a single one, Sabra noted, despite the unwelcome weather all around The Hummingbird.

“Indeed,” Dawn replied. “And a lesson learned, despite my absolute panic at the time.” She shrugged. “I still earned my nickname, but that day taught me to at least learn the name of the pony you’re treating. They’re a sapient being, not a tally mark.”

“Who’s a tally mark?” The group turned as Nova stepped through the hatchway aft, his normally fire-red mane lying damp and dark against his head and split around his horn. His eyes darted to the center of the table and then stopped. “And who brought Clan Wars?”

“I did,” Steel said. “By accident. I was playing it with my nephew and had it in my saddlebags when the call came. Didn’t bother to take it out before we left.”

“And I was explaining the importance of reminding one’s self that each patient is a living, breathing being, not just an injury or illness to be treated,” Dawn said as Nova skirted around the table, took a quick glance at what Hunter was cooking, and then sat down opposite Sabra.

“So, you’ve played Clan Wars?” Steel asked.

“Yeah,” Nova said. “Not in a long time, but at one point yeah.”

“All right. So you’re familiar with the concept.” His eyes switched to Dawn. “And you’ve not played before.”

“No,” she said, shaking her head.

“And how about you, Sabra? Ever played Clan Wars?”

He shook his head. “Not by that name, if at all. How does one play?”

“It’s a little tricky to get the hang of,” Steel said, reaching out and tilting the box so that he could see the cover. Several differently-armored and plumaged griffons stared one another down, some with blades drawn, others holding tools and spears. A zebra stood nearby, wrapped in a cloak, while on the opposite side of the board, a whole assortment of much darker hooded figures sat wreathed in shadows. “It’s a popular game from the Griffon Empire. Four players, four different factions with different goals.”

“The loyalists,” he said, setting a hoof atop the griffons with tools and spears. “Their goal is to build up the empire. Secure things. Protect their holdings. While the revolting clans—” His hoof switched to the more aggressive-looking griffons. “Their goal is spread and seize territory from the loyalists through combat.”

“The death cults—” His hoof switched again, this time to the shrouded, darkened figures at the corners. “Play everyone against one another from the shadows, using sabotage and stealth until they can challenge the other two, while the wanderer …” His hoof moved to the lone zebra. “Or as they’re officially known, acolyte of Zawati, maneuvers between all three sides, working with and against all of them in pursuit of their own objective, usually one that, according to the card they draw at the beginning of the game, will resolve all three factions to the most peaceful resolution.” He glanced at Nova. “I’m guessing you liked to play as either the acolyte or the death cult?”

“Me?” Nova shook his head. “No, I enjoyed playing as the rebels. I’ve played all four, but the rebels were where I had the most fun. I was a thief. Why play a game as one? That was my job.”

“Fair enough,” Steel said, shrugging. “My apologies for assuming. Anyway, since we were going to spend the evening relaxed, I figured I’d drag it out and see if anyone wanted to play.”

“I would be interested,” Sabra said, bringing his eyes back to the box. “There is a similar game played in the Plainslands, though different. But I believe I have heard of this one under another name. Is there a recommended position for a beginner?”

“Not really,” Steel said. “But if I bow out and we get a fourth to cover, and assuming Dawn plays, I can coach each of you individually.”

“I’ll play!” Sky called from the cockpit. “Hunter’s taking over for me in here tonight anyway.”

“Once I’m done with these,” Hunter said, pointing a wing at the pile of fried bread he was assembling. The smell wafting off them was rich and sharp, like peppers and cheese. Then again, it almost looked as if there was some in the bread. “And if someone else cleans up afterward.”

“I’ll do that,” Steel said. “I can manage cleaning up and coaching the four of you on the game at the same time. But … let’s wait to get set up until after we’ve eaten. You almost done there, Hunter?”

“Nearly,” Hunter replied. The Hummingbird rattled again, a distant crack of thunder lighting the windows for a brief moment. “Just a few more minutes.”

Hmm … a short while longer … Sabra looked at Nova. “Well, Nova,” he said, his voice drawing the rest of the room’s eyes to him. “Each of us has shared an embarrassing moment from when we first began training or working in our professions. Would you share one of yours?”

For a moment Nova was quiet, as if weighing his options, but then he grinned. “Yeah,” he said. “I can. But only,” he added, his gaze going to the rest of the team. “If you guys retell all of yours. I missed ‘em.”

“I can do that,” Steel said, casting his eyes to the rest of the team. Dawn nodded.

“I’m good for telling that tale again,” Hunter said.

“I am as well,” Sabra added, letting his weight sink back, muscles relaxing as Nova’s grin widened. The unicorn began to speak, the words flowing out in a rush like a storyteller on a hot summer’s day.

Except it wasn’t hot, and instead quite cool. But as he listened, he found he didn’t mind.

He felt warm enough on the inside.

Chapter 7

View Online

“Ugh.” Hunter blinked, trying to drive away the sticky, molasses-like sensation behind his eyes. “How did Bolt do this for three days?” He took another quick look around the cockpit, holding back a yawn. Outside the glass, the sun was rising. Or, at least, he assumed it was. There was enough light coming through the clouds that he didn’t feel like he was blind anymore.

The yawn won out, forcing its way past his muzzle and sounding out across the cockpit. He slumped back, one hoof idly coming down to smack against the control board with a faint thud. Granted, she probably gets more sleep at it than I have.

He let his tired eyes slide over to the bunk. Sky Bolt had told him to use it to catch sleep in small bursts, but between his worry that something actually would go wrong and the constant battering of The Hummingbird by the endless storms, he’d barely been able to sleep a wink. The few times he’d managed to finally nod off, he’d been awoken within minutes by the timer so that he could check the airship’s course.

And speaking of time … There was a small, dialed clock on the control board. Several of them, actually, but the one he was interested in was the one keeping track of Canterlot time, since they were still in the same rough time zone.

Just after five. I hope Sky Bolt was rapped to get that break, because I really want to sleep right now.

He set his eyes on the distant mountains, almost invisible through the thickening storm. Were they that hard to see last night? He checked the compass. We haven’t drifted that far. So no. A frown shifted across his muzzle. They are harder to see. Lovely. The snow was getting thicker.

Thicker and more crook every day, he thought as another gust rattled the airship, followed by a crack of distant thunder. The sky looked even more unwelcome than before, the clouds thicker and darker than he’d ever seen them.

And there’s no way this is natural, he thought as he squinted, making out the distant whorls and spirals of multiple, competing weather systems. The thick clouds almost looked like mountains themselves, powerful and domineering. Mountains carved from thick, black stone, however, rather than the blue and white ice of the Crystal Peaks.

“And shifting,” he said aloud as one of the clouds lit from within, another distant crack rolling across the plains. The thunderhead was warping, twisting in ways that would have made a day-to-day weather team fly for help.

So naturally, we’re flying around underneath it. We must all be starkers.

They could get above it, possibly. Bolt had rigged the airship with a pressurization system, and though its use was limited, it was likely the way she engineered things that The Hummingbird could clear the cloud cover with ease.

But then they’d be blind to the ground, and to any sign of the very thing they’d been sent looking for. Hunter let out a sigh, letting his hoof clop against the control board once more.

“Bored … bored … tired … bored.” A nearby crack of lightning made him flinch, The Hummingbird shaking under the sound of the strike, and he revised his meandering. “Alarmed … bored … bored … tired … bored.”

He snapped his jaw shut, teeth snapping against one another with a sharp clack. There has got to be a better way for me to keep from cracking a fruity, he thought as another sharp crack echoed across the sky,a vivid bolt of lightning arcing across the clouds above them. This one had come after the flash, however, rather than with it. Further away.

It was still unsettling. I should have brought a book. Something to keep my mind off of the storm. Bolt had assured him that the airship was layered with the best precautions against being hit by a bolt of lightning that one could buy, but the nearby snap kept stealing his attention.

Especially since they do seem to be getting more violent, he thought as he checked the altimeter. Or closer. Or maybe both. The airship was still holding the same altitude it had when Bolt had left him the night before but … He leaned forward, trying to peer up and around the underside of the envelope.

Those clouds definitely feel closer. He eyed the rippled shapes, shifting and spinning in rapid eddies, churning like a dark, inverted ocean. For a moment the cabin was lit by a brilliant flash of white, another bolt arcing through the clouds and leaving him blinking away spots, and then another roar swept across The Hummingbird, shaking it.

That’s not good. He shook his head, clearing away the spots from his eyes. Thankfully, pegasi eyes adjusted a little quicker, and in moments he was casting his gaze out on the storm again. That’s really not good. While he wasn’t close to a weather pony, even he could see that there was something wrong about the way the clouds were moving. Where ordinary storms would have merged into one, something in the sky—magic, ancient spells, chaos, who knew what—was somehow keeping the mass above them separate. Where each storm rubbed up against another he could see clouds tearing, ripping as the storms fought against one another. Small spirals of cloud tuft spun and ground against the edges, turning and finally subsiding as newer chunks of each storm tore free. Elsewhere, an electrical charge built up, lightning arcing across the gap and through one of the clouds.

And the barometer is still sliding down, he thought, his eyes checking the small instrument on the side of the control board. Not by much, but it’s definitely gone down. His eyes slid to the nearby clock, and he nodded and moved a small notched piece of metal on the side of the barometer down slightly, noting the time on the clock and changing a ring around the edge to the current hour.

And … back to boredom with brief moments of terror. And worry. Another gust of wind roared over the airship, the cockpit shaking as the whole ship rattled, dropped a few feet, and then rattled some more.

Getting around on hoof today is going to be tricky if the wind keeps getting worse. He checked the controls once more, confirming that the airship was still holding steady on its course. Just moving around the cabins is going to get tricky.

Which probably meant it was a good thing he’d made them the fried bread the night before, when things had been relatively stable. We can lock the pots and pans to the galley stove, he thought as a sudden force pressed him down against his seat, The Hummingbird rising on another gust before settling. And we can lock the lids. But you can’t fry something that can’t stay in the oil. Not to mention it’d be almost suicidal to use boiling hot oil with the ship bouncing like this.

Which meant they were either going to have to limit themselves to simple things … or break out the rationed mixes Dawn had requested. Some of which were fine—he’d always had a soft spot for a good granola bar, especially if there was chocolate in it—but some of which went straight into unappetizing. Whatever “kale” was, he was fairly certain it had never been meant for consumption by intelligent beings.

The Hummingbird dropped again, his mane lifting slightly as the winds pushed it down, and a sharp thump against the cockpit door made his ears flick. A moment later, the airship stabilized once more, there was a soft click as someone undid the latch, and he turned just as the door slid to one side.

“Morning, Hunter,” Sky Bolt said as she stepped into the cockpit, her wings slightly flared for balance and giving her the appearance that she was going to take off at any moment. The night off he’d given her had definitely left its mark: The bags under her eyes that had been taking shape had vanished, and there was a lightness to her step that spoke volumes about how much energy she’d regained. That, or she’d found a stash of cupcakes somewhere and was riding the sugar train.

Then again, it could be both. “Morning, Bolt. How’d you sleep?” he asked, moving to his left and giving her room to take the pilot’s seat.

“No, don’t get up yet,” she said, waving a hoof for him to stay in place as she slid the cockpit door shut. “I just want to take a look at things. I’m not ready to take the seat back yet unless something’s gone wrong. And I slept like a foal, thank you.”

“With all the shaking we’ve been doing?” he asked, moving a bit more to the side as Bolt stretched over the instrument panel, her eyes darting from readout to readout.

“Eh, I’ve slept in far worse,” she said, ears folding back against her skull as she turned and looked out the window, then back at the controls. “This storm is picking up though, isn’t it?”

“It’s dropped lower too,” he said, nodding. “And I just took another barometer reading. Still dropping.”

“Yikes.” Bolt stretched over to his side of the console, her body held above the controls only by the tips of her wings.

Looks like all those wing-strengthening exercises are paying off, he thought as Bolt, satisfied with her observations, leaned back to the far side, standing on her hind legs with forehooves atop the console. Again she turned and looked out the glass, her head tilting back as she stared at the thick, dark clouds above them.

“Wow,” she said as another jagged fork of lightning crawl across the sky. “There’s like … six different storms up there. And that’s just what I can see. It makes no sense.”

“Makes for some lousy weather, too.” The Hummingbird shook once more, another gust of wind jerking it. “And getting worse.”

“Yeah,” Bolt said, flicking her sky-blue mane out from in front of her eyes. “All right, here’s what I want you to do.”

He felt his ears lay flat against his head as he pulled back. “Me? I thought you were relieving me.”

“Not yet,” Bolt said, glancing back out at the outside and then flashing him a smile. “Relax. It’s not that bad. I just want you to drop us down another hundred, two-hundred feet. Try to find something smooth. Me, I’m going to go back and check out the boilers, make sure there aren’t any maintenance surprises I need to take care of.”

“Oh,” he said, blinking more sand out of his eyes. “That does make sense, yeah.” I didn’t even think about how she’s running this thing like a one-mare crew. “Maybe in the future we should look into having someone else in the team that knows what to look for.”

“Believe me, it’s on the list,” Bolt said, stepping back from the controls and putting a hoof on the door latch. “But it’s a pretty big list. It’s on there, but …” She shrugged. “Roam wasn’t built in a day.”

“Well, technically it was, at least when they were the wandering city. But you could argue that was a process that took years to—”

“Right, checking on the mechanics now,” Bolt said, the latch coming undone with a faint click. “Drop us down and level out. Nice and gentle. If you panic, don’t.” Then she was stepping out of the cockpit, the door sliding shut behind her.

“On it,” he said, grinning as he turned back to the controls. Only for his grin to fade as swiftly as some of the snowflakes alighting themselves on the cockpit glass. “Right. Down two-hundred feet.”

The Hummingbird rattled again as he eased his focus over the instruments, running his mind through the list of instructions Bolt had carefully run him through over the prior few days. Just a gentle— The airship shook again, another gust of wind sending it sliding to one side, jerking him against the side of his seat. For given values of gentle, he corrected, descent. Slowly, and with care, he reached over and disengaged a safety lock on one of the levers, then gave it a small, downward tug.

Too small? he wondered, his eyes darting between his hoof, the snow-laden winds outside the cockpit, and the altimeter. But then, slowly but surely, the altimeter began to drop. Very slowly.

Works for me, he thought, leaving his hoof on the lever. Slow and— A distant flash lit the landscape, each particle of snow momentarily becoming a spotlight in the early dawn. A sharp crack split the air in its wake, shaking The Hummingbird before echoing back off of the distant mountains as a dull, rumbling roar.

Steady, he finished as the cockpit stopped shaking. Slow and steady. Better to do it right than make a mistake. If Bolt were here, or the weather not so disagreeable …

Another click echoed through the cockpit, the door sliding to one side. Hoof still on the lever, he turned to see Nova stepping through, each hoofstep taken with obvious care as The Hummingbird shook again. He cocked his head as his eyes fixed on Hunter, a surprised look on his face, but waited until he had shut the door behind him to speak.

“Sky Bolt hasn’t relieved you yet? I thought she was up?”

“She is,” Hunter said. “And good morning. But she’s checking on some mechanical stuff in the back. Making sure all this rattling and bouncing hasn’t shaken anything important up.”

“Right, morning,” Nova said, hiding a yawn. “Early morning.”

“Yeah, tell it to somepony who got sleep,” Hunter said, letting his eyes slip back to the altimeter. They were still dropping, slowly but surely. “Why? Were you looking for her?”

“Not her in particular. Just whoever was flying this thing,” Nova replied. “I was wondering if it was going to stay this bumpy.”

“Well …” Hunter said as another gust hit the side of the airship, both it and the altimeter swaying up and down. “Ideally not, but if you’ve looked out the windows, we’ve not got much choice in the matter as long as we’re under this storm.”

“Drat.” Nova shook his head. “I kind of figured, but that’s still a downer.”

“Having trouble sleeping?”

“Yeah,” he said with a nod. “I think most of us are. It’s hard to sleep when the world feels like it’s dropping out from underneath you. If this empire ever shows up, we might be too tired to do anything.”

“I hope not, but then again at the moment, I wouldn’t be up for any heavy action. At least, not at full capacity.”

“You didn’t sleep last night?” He shot Nova a look and the unicorn nodded. “Point taken. If I was having issues …”

“What about Sabra?”

“Sabra?”

Hunter nodded, checking the altimeter again. Halfway there. “Yeah. He sleep all right?”

“Actually, he did.” Was he mistaken, or was there a touch of envy to Nova’s voice.

“Really?”

“Once he turned around, that is.”

“Turned arou—Oh.” His mind caught up. “Sky Bolt took my bunk, didn’t she?”

“Yup. He was up for about an hour or so after everyone else had fallen asleep—those who could anyway—and then he turned around so his head was facing aft. Woke up Sky Bolt, wrapped a hoof around hers … and he was out.”

“Cute.” Those two really have started to depend on one another. Hopefully it wouldn’t be a problem when the team split.

“Yeah, but I wasn’t about to try the same thing with Captain Song.”

A snort tore itself free of his nostrils, a laugh chasing at its hooves as he turned to look at Nova. The colt was sporting his usual sardonic grin. “Yeah,” Hunter said, shaking his head again. “Maybe if you did one of those disguises, made yourself look like Rapid Cap.”

“Which just starts moving into creepy territory,” Nova said, though he was still grinning. “Speaking of which, making yourself look like a mare? Harder than it looks.”

His eyebrows rose, even as he flicked his attention back to the altimeter. Nice and steady. Almost halfway there. The air did seem to be smoothing out a little. “You’ve done that?”

“Once or twice,” Nova admitted. “It was a lot easier when I was younger. It’s a lot harder when you’re older.”

“But you’ve actually done it?”

“Like I said, once or twice.” Nova shook his head. “It’s a pain, and it really only works on low-light. Anyone gets a good look at you, and the disguise tends to fall apart pretty quickly. You can only do so much to hide certain features. Like the muzzle,” he added as Hunter let out another snort. “I mean, yeah, that too, but that’s easier to hide with the right pair of saddlebags or clothing.”

“So you had to learn this because …?”

Nova shrugged. “It’s in the job. Or, was in the job,” he corrected quickly. “I doubt I’ll be doing that for this team anytime soon. But there were some jobs where it was easier to get in and out if you were a mare that looked like she knew what she was doing.”

“Huh …” His eyes came back to the altimeter. “You know, I’d honestly never thought about that.”

“Which is why it worked,” Nova said, flashing a grin once more. “I mean, it wasn’t easy. Coat dye, mane dye, makeup for contouring …” He shuddered. “It’s a nightmare to make work. But if it gets the job done … Good for creating a fake pony to put the pursuit on too.”

“How’d you learn how to do that?”

“Necessity,” Nova said, turning his head to shade his eyes as a particularly bright bolt of lightning carved a channel across the sky. The roar came a moment later, the controls vibrating under Hunter’s hooves. “As a young colt it was easier, sometimes, but when I got older and spotted something I knew would fetch a good price that needed a … feminine touch … I snuck into a theater in Baltimare that was doing an old-style Romane Empire production. You know, the kind where all the roles are played by stallions? Snuck in and watched their makeup crew.”

“Huh.” He glanced back at Nova, pulling his eyes away from the altimeter. “I wouldn’t have thought of that. And it was all makeup?”

“Not all of it,” Nova said, shaking his head. “No one in the audience is going to be bothered by an actor disguising their coat color with a spell for an hour or so, and they have the makeup crew on hoof to recast the magic as needed backstage. But it’s just a quick cover. Some of it was easier to do with makeup.”

“But you went with dye instead of magic in case someone noticed the spell.”

“Exactly.”

“Huh.” He turned his attention back to the altimeter. Almost there. “And it worked?”

“Like I said, not easily. Low-light areas and distance were a must. Makeup and adjusting my posture could only do so much to hide a muzzle and other physical differences.”

“You ever meet anyone else who tried it?” he asked.

“Actually, yes. Going both ways.” Nova shrugged. “Like I said, it worked. I was a pro, though.” There was a hint of pride to his words. “I knew a couple of thieves that used magic as a shortcut and eventually got caught.”

Almost there. “Well, learn something new every day, I guess.”

“Hey, you knew I knew disguises.”

“Yeah,” he admitted. “I did. But honestly, until this moment I’d never actually thought of using them to pretend to be the other gender.” He paused, then frowned. “Wait, hold up a moment. If magic as a disguise can be spotted by a unicorn, why do we have such a hard problem finding changelings?”

“Changelings?” Nova shook his head. “That’s actual shapeshifting magic. Like, full on transformational stuff.”

“Really? What’s the difference?”

“Yeesh,” Nova said, sitting back on his haunches and rubbing at the back of his head with one hoof. “Ask the hard ones, why don’t you.”

“If you don’t want to—”

“No, I got it,” Nova said quickly. “Just don’t expect the most advanced explanation. But makeup magic? Like changing coat colors and the like? It’s … it’s like putting a temporary coat of paint on something. It’s an illusion, usually. Or an enchantment that adjusts the spectrum of light that is absorbed or emitted. Sometimes, for advanced, high-level magic, it can bend light to make an illusion.”

“So makeup and coat change magics are just variants on an illusion.”

“Not all of them,” Nova said. “There are cleaning spells, spells to puff a coat up and help it hold a shape, or smooth it down … All kinds of stuff. But in most of those cases, the spell is there, holding that illusion or that shape in place.”

“Or the illusion.”

“Yeah. It’s a magical construct.”

“Okay. So then shapeshifting is …?”

“Not an illusion,” Nova said. Then he spread his front hooves in the air in front of him. “And before we go further, I’m not exactly the most magically-educated. So if you want a more detailed answer than what I can provide, you’d have to talk to Dawn. But basically, shape-changing magic is a forced, magical shifting of what a creature’s very core is. It’s taking magic—a lot of magic, and I mean a lot—and actually transforming the very basis of that creature into something new. So it’s not putting a new coat of paint over something, it’s like … magically taking the house down and rebuilding it while still keeping the house intact. Which is why it takes so much magic.”

“But once it’s been changed, it stays changed? It doesn’t need anymore magic?”

“Sort of. There’s a biological catch to it, though.” Again his hooves came up. “And trust me, I know pretty much none of the details at this point, just the basics. But when you transform something … oh, say you actually had the magic to make a pony into … a griffon. Like I said, it’d take a phenomenal amount of magical power. I might be able to manage something like it someday if I really practice, according to Dawn.”

“What about something non-biological?”

“It’s a lot easier. Something about a living being having a template it wants to jump back to. That said, if you try and change something inanimate into a living thing, it does shift back.”

“Really?” The altimeter was almost at the proper height. Any second now. “Why’s that?”

“Something to do with how living things work, and I think the way magic works? We’re getting over my head.”

“Sorry.” There! The lever went back to the center position, lock engaging once more. He took a quick look around the outside of the aircraft. It does feel calmer. Time would tell.

“No biggie,” Nova said. “Anyway, when you use magic to change something’s shape, it does change. It becomes that thing. Right down to the … DNA? Yeah, that’s the word for it. Right down the DNA in the cells, though it does leave some trace markers of the origins.”

“So it’s not magical,” Hunter said, extrapolating forward, “because whatever’s been transformed actually becomes what it’s turned into?”

“Right. If we used magic to make me a griffon, I’d actually be a griffon. I’d probably keep a semblance of my coat and mane colors unless that was part of the change, but I’d actually be a griffon. I could walk right past a bunch of unicorns, and there wouldn’t be a single bit of magic saying I wasn’t a griffon that they could detect without specialized equipment.”

“So there would be traces?”

“Really, really tiny ones,” Nova said. “And there’s the problem with transformations. They don’t last.”

“Okay …” He glanced at the compass, checking that the airship was still on its proper heading, then turned to face Nova. “What do you mean that they don’t last?”

“Exactly that,” Nova replied with another shrug. “You know how everything’s got a magic field, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, that same magic I guess knows somehow that it’s not in the right shape. So it pushes back against the spell that made it something it’s not. It ‘remembers’ maybe? I don’t know the details. But it shoves back. So before long, whatever’s been changed changes back. You can make it last longer, but eventually the original form wins out.”

“So changelings—” he began.

“Are a special case,” Nova said quickly. “They’re supposed to transform. So that’s what they do. Maybe their magic is flexible and recognizes that? But if someone with a really large amount of magical power were to turn me into a griffon, like I said, I’d be back to being me in an hour or two tops unless they came back and constantly reinforced it.”

“Which is a tight time limit.”

Nova nodded. “And like I said, we’re talking a massive amount of power. I might never be able to pull one off, and I’m a few levels above average. It’s just easier to use makeup and forget the magic. Oh, and it’s not predictable.”

“What do you mean, not predictable?” he asked.

“Unless you’re powerful enough to actually know how long it’s going to take an innate magic field to push back, and have the power to override it, you’re kind of guessing. So their form might snap back in twenty minutes, or an hour.”

“Which makes a tight time limit for something like your old job all the more wonky.”

“Exactly. There’d be no signature, but where’s a thief going to find that kind of power and reliability?”

“The Princesses?”

For a moment they were both quiet, and then Nova nodded, a thoughtful look on his face that Hunter knew was mirrored on his own. “Yeah, that would do it. They could possibly even make it permanent.”

“That can happen?” Hunter caught himself. “Wait, no, I’ve heard of a plant that does it. Really rare and dangerous. It’s not instant, though.”

“It couldn’t be,” Nova replied. “It’d take too much power. But in theory—and just to be clear again that I’m not an expert here—if you had enough magic to overcome that last bit of innate magic, you could make a permanent transformation. There have definitely been claims of it throughout history. A few wizards in legend claimed to have made items that assisted in transformation too, but those are all …” He brought up one hoof and waggled it from side-to-side. “A little murky.”

“Could a magic battery handle it?”

Nova shook his head so quickly his fire-red mane was a blur. “Not even close. Not unless you want one the size of one of our superboilers. And Sky Bolt’s been having trouble figuring out how to work teleportation. Changing something is way past that on the complexity scale.”

“So you need a starkers amount of power and lots of smarts.”

“Pretty much.” Nova lifting one eyebrow. “Why? Thinking of trying something out?”

“Me?” He shook his head. “No, I was just curious about how the changelings managed it. But once you got going on it, it did make me wonder if there could ever be a use for that. We do have a direct line to the Princesses.”

“Huh,” Nova said, holding a hoof to his chin, eyes rolling back in thought. “I guess you’re right. We do. Maybe I should see if I could work a favor out of one of them.”

“Wait, what?” He turned away from the controls, staring down at Nova, gobsmacked. “Really? Why?”

Nova shrugged. “Hey, you’ve got wings. I don’t. It’d be nice to give that a try. I wonder if I could wager that in a poker game with Princess Luna …” Nova’s voice trailed off, his attention elsewhere.

“Well, if you do,” Hunter said, a sly smile on his face. “Don’t tell the captain about it.”

Nova perked up, ears twitching. “Really? Why?”

“Because I want to be there to see his gob drop open in complete confusion, that’s why!” Hunter said. “And tell me in advance, so I can get a camera.”

“Bonus points if I can make him question reality?”

“Hmm …” Hunter put a hoof to his chin as he leaned back. “Maybe. I might be able to do you one better and swing you a day off or something.”

“Deal!” Nova said, grinning and sticking out his hoof. “Gives me something to look forward to when I get back. And I want copies of the pictures!”

“Deal.” Hunter slapped his hoof against Nova’s as they shook on it. “Granted, you’ve got to get the Princess to agree to it …”

“You know, I don’t think that’ll be a problem,” Nova said, rising with a grin. “In any case, we’re shaking a bit less now, so I might as well try and get a little more sleep. Later, Hunter.” He turned for the door, hoof reaching for the latch.

Something flitted through Hunter’s mind, and he spoke. “Actually, before you go …” Nova’s hoof stopped, the unicorn turning and looking back at him. “Did you ever speak to Dawn about how she’s been acting around you?”

Nova nodded, the look of mirth sliding from his face. “I did. Last night.”

“And?”

He shook his head. “Nothing. She apologized, but said it was simply her dealing with the all the stress of the mission and getting everything taken care of for it.”

“And?” he asked, crossing his forelegs across his chest. He could hear the unspoken words hanging on the end of Nova’s statement, hanging in the air like the storm-clouds in the sky. Though hopefully not as violent or dangerous.

Nova let out a sigh and rolled his head. “She was lying. I’m certain of it. I’ve got a lot of experience in that area. She wouldn’t give me the full story. Something is bothering her, but she wouldn’t admit it. She gave me a convenient excuse, and that was all it was.”

“Hmm …” He frowned. This is unlike Dawn. She’s cold, but hiding something? “All right,” he said slowly. “I’ll admit, that’s odd, especially for her. I can see why that’d aggro you, especially with how straightforward she normally is. All right, I’ll talk to her as soon as Sky Bolt comes back and relieves me—” The end of his sentence was stolen by a yawn, and he covered his mouth with one hoof. “And as soon as I’ve had a nap,” he added. “Anyway, I’ll have a chat with her about it, and see what the problem is. Make sure this isn’t just a beat up. Not saying you’re wrong,” he said, cutting off Nova’s retort before he could speak. “But she really could just be a bit more uptight than normal, even for her. The last few days haven’t been easy on any of us.”

“That’s … fair,” Nova said, nodding. “All right. Thanks, Hunter.”

“Welcome. Now go try and get some sleep, take advantage of the rest day while we have it.” The door slid to the side with a faint rumble that, oddly enough, echoed the rumble of another bolt of lightning outside, and then Nova was gone, the cockpit his own once more.

All right … He leaned forward in his seat, eyeing the compass and then the altimeter. Being a little lower is a little smoother, so that’s at least a step in the right direction. Just wait for Sky Bolt to get back and then …

Sleep. Glorious sleep. And after that …

After that, he thought, I go have a little talk with Dawn. Unless, of course, this Crystal Empire shows up at last and everything really gets interesting.

Speaking of which, I really do need to have a more in-depth talk with Steel about that, and …

The Hummingbird drifted on through the sky, propellers spinning as Hunter planned.

Chapter 8

View Online

Sky’s hoof was gone. It was the first thing Sabra noticed when he woke up, bunk rattling around him. His forehoof was cold, poking out into the cabin air, without any hint of warmth on the other side. For a moment he lay still, ears twitching as he searched for nearby sounds like a mongoose scanning the plains. He pushed aside the rumble of The Hummingbird’s propellers, cut away the faint howl of the wind and the distant roar of the storm, searching instead for living beings.

Captain Song’s steady, patterned breaths were the first sound he heard. Followed by faint signs of chatter from the fore of the vessel, muffled enough to be mostly indistinct, but still recognizable as masculine tones. A second or two more of listening, and he’d picked out who the voices belonged to based on their patterns and tonal inflections. Lieutenant Hunter, he thought. And Nova. Which explained why he hadn’t heard the unicorn’s own, distinctly light breathing pattern on the other side of the room.

But still, neither of them was Sky. Which meant …

Engines. The thought boiled up from somewhere in the back of his mind, a recess that hadn’t quite fully come to the surface yet. She said something about checking the engines, didn’t she? Yes, that felt right. Light flooded the corners of his mind as he woke up, bringing with it clarity.

She wanted to check the engines and mechanics, make sure that everything was working properly. The airship had been running for … This would be the fourth, he realized. Four days, then, without maintenance. The longest it had been used yet outside of tests.

So she wanted to make sure nothing went wrong. He pulled his hoof back, letting it slide back under the covers where it was relatively warmer. That must be it.

That, he admitted, or she’d gone to the facilities and would return any minute. It was hard to tell without knowing what time it was.

For a moment he lay there, but then his curiosity welled inside him like a spring, and he cracked one eye open. The common room was dimly lit, the overhead magilights still either off or at a low setting, but there was more light in the room than could simply be accounted for by them.

The sun, then. Sunrise, or close to it. Which meant the captain would be rising soon, as would the rest of the—

Wait. No. He caught himself. That was why Sky was in the back. Or at least, why he assumed she was in the back. Lieutenant Hunter had taken her position for the night, so that she could rest like the whole team would be.

It’s a rest day, he thought, tucking his chin a little closer into his blanket. That’s right. So perhaps the captain wouldn’t be waking up in a few minutes, ready to get the team underway. Or if he did wake up, he wouldn’t be taking the team with him.

That was, of course, assuming that most of the team wasn’t already up. So far it seemed that those still abed and those aware were evenly split. Unless Dawn was already awake and at work in her medical bay. Which was … possible, considering the sheer amount of materiel she was dealing with.

Still, if left to his own … He shifted again, worming his shoulder a little further under the heavy, winter blankets and taking solace in the fact that at last he had something somewhat warm to sleep in. Sky had redirected a vent for him, and between that and some surplus winter gear the captain had taken no issues with him using, he’d been able to at least make his bunk comfortingly warm.

Which still left the abrupt, occasional jerking of the airship itself to confront, but there wasn’t much he could do about that. Though he had felt a lot more reassured with Sky around.

The Hummingbird jerked again, this time to one side and then back. He heard the voices from the cockpit switch in tone, reacting to the maneuver. On the other side of the room, the captain’s steady pattern hitched slightly, resuming as soon as the turbulence was over.

He must have slept aboard an airship before, Sabra reasoned. During the regency wars, perhaps. It would explain how the captain seemed to be the only member of the entire team that could sleep through almost anything. Almost.

He laid still for a moment, focusing his attention on his breathing, but the telltale slipping of awareness that indicated sleep was within his grasp eluded him, and he rolled onto his side. Perhaps then, a different kind of rest. He froze, holding his body absolutely still for a moment, and then let out a long, slow breath.

In. And out. Rhythmic. Patterned. In. And out. Steady. Sinking inward.

The Hummingbird shook again, upsetting his breathing, but he quickly recovered. In. Out. He extended his awareness, taking in every twitch of muscle, every pulse of his heart. In. Out. Slowly but surely, the outer world began to fade, a void growing around him as the physical faded away. It was odd to be holding such a relaxed position while attempting to meditate, but at the same time, it was merely a challenge to overcome.

Physical sensation began to fade, the steady, rhythmic sound of his breath and the gentle thump of his heart slipping away. Colors danced at the edge of his vision—or at the edge of his mind, he’d never been sure which—before fading as well. The real world slipped away … and the void took shape.

It stretched around him, endless and infinite. A black expanse that held everything and nothing at the same time. He slipped down through it, his presence still and gentle as he descended. The lake came into view, its surface already splintered with ripples, bounding off of one another and bouncing from place to place. Even at such an early day, his mind was far from still.

He willed himself to calm as the lake neared. While stillness was preferable, it was not a sign of good. Stillness, after all, could mean death, a dearth of input or mindfulness. A still mind could mean perfect control, harmony with one’s self … or it could be a sign that there was nothing to be in harmony with.

By contrast, a wild, untamed lake could hold the same duality. It could represent the mind of the seeker, one who was constantly acquiring new knowledge to study … or it could be the mind of the ill-focused, a mind with no clarity and aimless pursuits of purposeless abandons.

His hooves touched down on the lake, his slow descent coming to a halt as he gazed out over his mind. Detached from the physical world as he was, he could “see” the ripples, eddies, and waves spreading out across his mind, see the turmoil each brought. And, as always, the largest concentration of ripples were traced back to one source.

What is life? The mere thought of his quest and pursuit sent new ripples rolling out like sound from a bell, sliding across the surface of the lake and almost immediately mixing with counterparts to form waves. He focused, and a stillness slid out of his presence and across the surface of the lake, waves and currents freezing in place. Then, slowly, but surely, they shrank.

But they didn’t vanish. There was too much … uncertainty. Too much for him to simply still his rampant thoughts, questions, curiosities, and, yes, fears and doubts with a single moment of focus.

Besides, it wasn’t the surface that held the true cause of his turmoil. It was what lay underneath. If the currents beneath the water weren’t calm, or at least controlled, the surface never would be.

Keeping the surface still, however, would make it easier to track each current back to its source. Satisfied that his focus on the surface was held, he let himself slip downward, the cool waters of the lake closing over and around him.

It was a strange, but welcome experience. Memories and thoughts flitted around him, both at once part of him and apart. Logically, if he went deep enough, he would find the part of his mind that was in essence “him” at the moment, building the void inside his mind. A common tale at the monastery held that if one sank into that part of the mind, one would find another void with another, deeper part of the mind, and so on into infinity until one became as immortal and in tune with the world as Zawati and found all answers.

That, or end up lost in one’s own meditation. Perhaps someday he’d try, see if he could locate such a space. But at the moment, there was one thing that dominated his mind.

The tangle. He wasn’t sure what to call it. It was almost like a mountain, rising out of the depths of his mind, a mixture of ideas, thoughts, and feelings all so tightly wrapped around one another that they generated their own currents. Volatile ones, at that, with surprising strength and force.

Never had he encountered its like before. And in the space of one’s mind, that was … unsettling.

He probed at it, floating closer and feeling a rush of thoughts and feelings spill over him. Emotion threatened his hold for a moment, his body rising, but clarity returned, driving the sudden passion away.

He could feel … confusion, emanating from it. As well as curiosity. The tangle was before him now, massive and stretching in almost all directions. What are you? What has my mind so … different? He reached out, hoof catching against a current and rippling through it.

Wellness. Security. Warmth. The emotions rolled through him, and he pulled his hoof back. He probed again, this time at another part.

Curiosity. Drive. A search.

That one he knew. My question. He could feel ripples rolling off of him, churning the lake around him. Have I truly become so …?

He couldn’t think of a way to answer his own question. Concerned? Devoted? Alarmed? Worried? Obsessed? He could feel other emotions and memories mixed in the tangle. Some were familiar, recognizable. Pride. Sadness. Trepidation. Determination. Others were … not unfamiliar, but certainly not thoughts he would have associated with the question.

Where? He could feel more currents tugging at him, pushing and pulling from different sides and angles. But largely pushing. Actively pushing.

He was losing focus. The surface of the lake above him was breaking, lifting and twisting as the currents began to press harder.

I understand. He rose, leaving the lake behind, the void fading away as he brought his consciousness back to the forefront of reality. There was too much wrapped in whatever was rushing through his mind, too much riding on it, even if he wasn’t sure what it exactly was yet. So much so that merely attempting to study it by force would be like trying to swim up a waterfall. He would simply fail.

So instead, he thought as the sounds and scents of the galley returned in a rush, the physical world snapping back with sharp, crisp clarity. I must give it time. Patience. He’d need to work through his thoughts and feelings, carefully examine them. Examine this new source of turmoil and unrest from all sides.

Which would … take time. He resisted the urge to sigh, instead pushing away the impatient feeling with an admonition. Clarity may only come with time. You cannot force knowledge nor enlightenment.

Though I could write one of my old teachers, Sabra thought as he rolled over, pins and needles rushing along his coat with the sudden movement. How long had he been meditating? Surely no longer than a few minutes. Ask them if they have ever encountered a … tangle … and what they did about it.

Then again, such a thing would take time. A letter to his monastery could take a month to arrive, plus another to return, unless he sent it by a priority service.

Maybe I should try the embassy, he thought as he shifted again, this time kicking one corner of his covers up and letting in a shock of cold air. The captain’s rhythmic breathing was still steady on the far side of the room, but he couldn’t hear any conversation from the cockpit anymore. Nor could he hear any sound of Nova in the galley. The shaman there, Akeelah. She may have an answer.

He flipped onto his back, forehooves clenched around his blankets, and braced himself. He sucked in a few quick breaths, then quick as he could, threw the covers to one side. A wave of cold rolled down his body as all the warmth he’d so carefully built up was swept away by the unyielding cold, and he grit his teeth together to keep them from chattering.

So … cold!

He sat up, balancing on the edge of the bunk and rubbing his forehooves against one another. The friction brought a little heat, but it didn’t steal away the chill the air held, sucking away at him. He took a long, forced breath, sucked in through clenched teeth and willing himself to ignore the cold, ignore the way his pelt seemed to be standing on end.

It’s just cold. It’s warmer than you think. You were comfortable under the covers. It’s shocking in comparison. The train of thought helped … but not much.

Still, there was little he could do about it but get moving. He slid off of the bunk, his hooves meeting the rubber-matting atop the floor with faint, muffled clops, and headed for the back of the airship. The first order of business was … well, the first order of business for most in the morning.

He kept alert as he headed to the bathroom—Head—listening for any signs of other activity. The medbay was quiet, which meant that Dawn was likely still asleep. With the padding around the doors and walls, he couldn’t listen to hear otherwise.

The head meanwhile was occupied, the door shut and the sound of rushing water roaring through it. Nova then, and showering from the sound of it. He waited for a moment, twisting his hoof against the rubber matting, and then turned away. He was simply going to have to wait. The downside of having one bathroom and shower, as opposed to the larger space in our barracks, he thought as he headed for a door that ran rearward. Behind it, he could hear a cacophony of mechanical noises, thumping and hissing. A small cabinet had been built into the wall next to the door, and he opened it expose several sets of large ear mufflers, each latched in place.

Everything accounted for, he thought as he released one the of sets of mufflers and slid them down over his head. The large cups slipped over his ears, resting snugly against the top of his head and cutting off the outside world, the sounds losing their high pitches and reminding him almost of what it was like to dunk his head beneath the water.

Just with less distortion. He closed the box, hearing protection secure—though the plastic band connecting the two halves was pressing down on his mane in a slightly uncomfortable fashion—and opened the door.

The once-faint sounds became a tumult with the heavily-padded door open, and he stepped through quickly, sliding it shut behind as to not bother anyone in the crew areas. The rhythmic banging sound was the loudest, pinions and parts moving in concert against one another this far back in The Humminbird’s innards. He’d left the hallway behind, as well as the rubber matting, his hooves now on bare metal grating as he trotted further back.

The space around him was open, or rather would have been if not for the large amounts of moving machinery on both sides, moving with dizzying speed as it used the heat from the boilers to create and transmit energy to the rest of The Hummingbird’s systems. Thankfully, it wasn’t in easy reach: Sky had gone ahead and made sure that the edge of the grated metal walkway was at least a few inches away from any moving machinery, as well as separated by heavy wire mesh covers that could be opened and folded back as needed. And even with that protection, there was a large, brightly-lit and brightly-colored sign right on the side of the entrance that quite clearly spelled out both in pictures and several languages—his own native Zebra included—that there was to be no loose or flowing clothing, hair, or jewelry under any circumstances, and to keep a close eye on one’s tail given how dangerous the machinery could be.

Ahead of him, he could see a small open space, a square room of sorts, though given the open nature of the rear of the ship, it was more of an open metal platform. Almost a cage, really, with all the mesh. Sky had turned it into a smaller version of her workshop, complete with smaller workbenches and—of course—plenty of toolboxes. He trotted forward, his eyes scanning the machinery around him, searching for any sign of Sky’s blue mane. Even through the ear mufflers, he could hear the faint, steady hiss of steam as pistons expanded and contracted, in time with the dull, staccato-mixed drumbeat of so many mechanical parts moving against one another. The heavy, deep clangs almost sounded like log drums performance, deep and moving, resonating in his chest, but mixed with other clangs and clatters that no log drum could ever replicate.

He stepped into the small workshop, eyes and ears both turning as he searched for a sign of Sky Bolt. Breaks in the machinery on all sides led to mesh-lined pathways, as well as a steep stairwell in the decking that led down to a lower level—cramped as it was. But Sky needed to have access to every bit of The Hummingbird’s innards that she could while they were traveling.

On the plus side, this close to the boilers he wasn’t quite so cold anymore. The engines generated a large amount of waste heat, even with all the insulated piping and Sky’s own superboilers fueling things, enough that he felt almost warm.

A faint clang caught his ears, out of tune with the rest, followed by a string of words, all indecipherable under the din of the steam engines and boilers. He turned, ears twitching against their confines, and took a few steps forward, looking to the port side of the engine room. There, poking out from behind a mesh covering panel around some machinery, was a tightly bound sky-blue tail. It flicked as he watched before moving a little further forward, all the but the very end vanishing behind whatever machinery was inside the metal mesh. Sabra opened his mouth, about to shout, but then caught himself.

That might be a bad idea, he thought as he heard another out-of-place clang, followed by more grumbling tones just barely audible against the constant, all-consuming beat of the engines. She’s clearly working on something. The last thing somepony needs when working on moving machinery is someone shouting at them. He sank back on his haunches, the grated metal warm but not quite comfortable beneath his flanks, and waited.

There was another clang, followed by a tone he recognized even without being able to hear the words as “Finally!” and Sky’s tale reappeared, followed by her hindquarters as she backed out of the mesh-cabinet. For a moment they moved from side to side, tail swaying, and he turned his eyes elsewhere for a second, giving her time to extricate herself from the machinery.

“Sabra!” He snapped his gaze back to her to see her face lit up with a wide, grease-stained smile. Then she paused, pursing her lips with a coy look on her face. “About how long ago did you start looking at the ceiling so intently?”

“I …” He could feel a blush heating his cheeks. “I didn’t want to look as though I was staring.”

“Okay, that’s fair,” she said, picking up the tool she’d dropped to the deck and swinging the mesh caging shut with a bang that was almost lost amidst the sounds of the machinery. Then she paused. “Were you?”

He decided not to risk answering. “What were you doing?” he asked. The question was almost a shout, to be heard over the constant clatter of the mechanics and through their ear muffs.

“That’s not a no,” Sky called back, before letting out a laugh. “I was greasing some things,” she said, holding out the tool she’d been using in one hoof as she walked into the workshop area. It was a long cylinder with a flexible looking hose at one end and a lever at the other. Thick grease encrusted the end of the hose.

“All this constant running,” she said, waving her hoof at the engine around them. “It wears stuff down. Gotta check on it every so often and make sure it’s greased up with the grease gun. Luckily,” she said, pulling a drawer open and putting the tool away. “I had Hunter take us down so it wouldn’t be quite as rough. Still a bit alarming when she jukes on you though, and you’re right next to a large crankshaft.” She shook her head, and he noted that her mane didn’t flap around her face, the long hairs carefully tied back atop her head.

“Eugh,” Sky said, rubbing a hoof across her side and smearing a long streak of grease along both, matting the fur down. Sabra could see dozens of other grease stains around her barrel, shoulders, and wings. “This stuff gets everywhere. And some of those spots I had to get to? They were a lot easier to reach when we were in the shop.” She shook her head again, spreading her wings and glaring at the grease stuck between the feathers. “This is going to take forever to get out. I look like a mess.”

“You look—” He caught himself before he could say “like you always do.” Something in the back of his mind—self-preservation, maybe, said it was a bad idea. “Like you. Motivated.”

She flashed him a smile. “Thanks. But seriously, I need a shower once this over.” She folded her wings back in and trotted over to another toolbox. “What are you doing back here?”

He shrugged. “This was were you were.”

“Really?”

“Well … and the head was occupied.”

She let out a snort of laughter. “So you thought you’d come back here and s—” She let out a cough that didn’t quite sound authentic. “Bleck, sorry. See if I needed a hoof?”

He nodded. “And to talk. Keep you company.” Her smile widened, and he felt his own grow in response.

“Well then,” she said. “I’m open to all three. I don’t have much left to do back here, but you’re welcome to help out.” She stuck her head into one of the drawers and came out with an adjustable wrench.

“Here,” she said, passing it to him. “Carry this and follow me. There’s a fitting I want to look at.”

Again he nodded, and she turned and headed down the steep steps to the lower level. “Watch your head.”

“So,” she asked as he began to follow her down, calling over her shoulders. “How’s the meditation going? Still a little shaky?”

He waited until he reached the bottom of the steps and could spit the wrench into his hoof before replying. “‘Shaky’ isn’t quite the proper word for it. Tumultuous would be better. But yes, it is.”

“So you’re still digesting all that knowledge then?” Sky asked as she moved aft. He followed.

“I suppose,” he said. “To be perfectly honest, I’m not sure what it means. I feel as though it means I am confused and unsure. But is that a result of what I’ve learned? Or am I confused and unsure because of something else?”

“Are you confused and unsure, though?” Sky stopped, her head framed by the side of one of the large superboilers as she looked back at him. “I mean, sure, you haven’t got your answer yet, but I wouldn’t say you’re confused and unsure.”

“Hapana?”

“Hapana,” she repeated, one corner of her mouth turning up in small smile. “There are a lot of words I would use to describe you, Sabra, but confused and unsure isn’t one of them.” Her smile widened, and then she turned and moved deeper into the back of The Hummingbird.

“Well then,” he said, following. “What would you suggest it may be?”

“Wait, really?” Sky called as she stepped around another mesh cage, coming to a stop next to a collection of piping set just above the side of the airship’s hull.

“Of course.” He smiled as he passed her the wrench. “Your cutie mark may be for machines, but that doesn’t mean your knowledge in other areas isn’t invaluable. And of everyone on this team, you’re the one that … knows me the best. And I trust that.”

“Well,” Sky said, holding the wrench in one hoof as she checked a collection of nearby valves. She gave one a twist, a heavy hissing sound filling the air as the valve clamped down.

“There’s a secondary line,” she said when she saw his eyes looking at it. “It’ll pick up the slack. Hunter’ll lose a little engine power, but not enough that he’ll notice.” She adjusted a couple of smaller, nearby valves, additional hisses sounding, and then moved back to the collection of pipes.

“Anyway, like I was about to say.” She wrapped the wrench around one of the pipes and began to tighten the end down. “If anything, knowing you, and having gotten to know you over the last few months …” The wrench secure, she put her hooves against it and began to push, pausing only when another gust of wind from outside shook The Hummingbird.

“You’re intelligent,” she said, her voice dropping a bit as she strained with the wrench. He stepped forward, offering a hoof, but she waved him back. “I’ve got it,” she said. “I put it on there, I can take it … Off!” The wrench gave with a quick jerk, slowing as Sky eased off. “You’re determined, too. And neither of those are bad things.” She worked the wrench with her hooves as she spoke, loosening the pipe fitting. “You also contemplative, courageous …” The fitting popped free, water trickling out of one end as she tipped it up. The small stream ran down between the metal grating beneath their hooves, and his eyes followed it.

“It’s fine,” she said. “This place is waterproofed, and there’s a catch to collect that stuff.

“But,” she said, holding the fitting up to a nearby light and examining it. “I don’t think you’re confused and unsure. If anything, you’re contemplative. You’re like …” She paused for a moment, tapping her chin with the fitting and, he noticed, getting a clump of something stuck in the fur of her muzzle as she did so. “You ever seen a stone crusher make gravel before?”

He shook his head. “No, I have not.”

“Right.” She tilted the fitting, checking it from all angles. “Well, it looks like this thing is okay. No signs of any weak spots.”

“Why check it?”

“Company sent out an alert,” she said, stepping back over to where the fitting was supposed to be and slowly screwing it back in. “They sent out a warning that there might have been a weakness in the metal that would give way under certain conditions, but gave a list of things to check for.”

“Why not check earlier?”

“Because we weren’t—and haven’t been—running under those conditions. Plus, there is a secondary if something had gone wrong, and the flaw itself is easy to find. Plus, I have spares aboard. But since I was here …” She reached for where she’d set the wrench atop a nearby pipe.

“But that kind of questioning?” she said, her fire-red eyes alighting on him as she tightening the fitting down. “That’s what I’m talking about. So a gravel crusher, right? It’s made up of these big metal jaws that angle toward one another. You …” She let out a grunt, tightening the fitting back down. “You set a gap at the end that at the widest aperture, with the size of gravel you want, and then you …” Another grunt. “Throw rocks and stones into the top. Or boulders, if you’ve got one big enough. Anyway, you get an engine to slap the jaws open and closed, and they break up the rocks. Each time they close, the rocks break and become smaller, so they drop further down when—almost there—the jaws open again. And then when they shut …” Her words faded out as she put her entire body into tightening the fitting down. “There!” she said, stepping back. “Now just the pipe.”

“But as I was saying, when the jaws shut, they crush those new rock pieces smaller still, until they’re small enough that they fall out of the opening at the bottom. With me so far?”

“Ndiyo.”

“So what I’m getting at,” Sky said, picking the pipe up in her hooves. “Is that there’s a catch to this. The smaller and more fine you want the gravel at the other end, the longer the process takes, and the more it can back up. So if you just want a rock the size of your hoof, you widen the jaws up, toss some rocks in, and it won’t take long at all.”

“But if you want sand,” she said, grabbing the wrench once more and tightening the pipe. “You have to wait a lot longer, and the machine sort of backs up a little, because it’s working hard to grind those smaller stones into something even smaller.”

“Have you had experience with one of these machines?” he asked.

Sky smiled, one hoof pressing down hard on the wrench. “Farm outside of Dodge Junction, remember? Lots of rocks in that soil. We rented a stone-crushing machine plenty of times. Until I built my parents one, that is. But yeah.” She held up a hoof. “Spent a lot of days as a filly tossing rocks into one of those and watching them come out as gravel, sand, whatever we felt we needed.”

“Back on topic though, the point was that the finer you wanted that stone to end up being, the more time it took. And you?” She pointed her upraised hoof at him. “Your mind is like one of those rock crushers, set to the finest setting of sand it can manage. You’re always looking for new knowledge, new ideas, new concepts. Not just because you’re searching for the answer to your question,” she said as she turned herself back to tightening the pipe. “In fact, I’d say you’re searching for the question because that’s the way you are.”

“You seek out all these ideas and knowledge and concepts, and you feed them into that head of yours, and you break them down. You see how they fit together, what they’re made up of. But where most ponies would be content with … I don’t know, smaller rocks maybe, you’re not content until you’ve looked at it from every possible side and angle. You think on it, grinding them down for days, breaking it apart and working to understand it. They want stones, you want sand. You study it in your mind over and over again, and only once you’ve gained everything you can from it do you let it pass through … and then you start the process all over again.”

“I guess what I’m trying to say is that you’re thorough, and it’s one of those things I admire about you.” She flashed him another soft smile, and he felt a sudden surge in his chest, like he’d touched a stray lightning cloud, or maybe accidentally sipped more of that strange drink Nova kept bringing into the barracks. “You take your time thinking through things, studying them, digesting them. So it’s not that you’re confused or unsure, you’ve just dumped a lot into those mental ‘jaws’ in a short amount of time, and it’s taking time to chew through everything to break it down into manageable chunks.” She gave the wrench a final shove, then stepped back and looked the whole thing over.

“Stand back,” she warned, passing him the wrench. “If there was a weak spot, or I just didn’t tighten the piping well-enough, we’ll know as soon as I bleed the system and open the valve.” She trotted over to the valves she’d tightened before, flipping a few levers and then eying the pipe as she slowly loosened the main valve. A faint hiss filled the air, though whether it was steam, water, or some other substance Sabra couldn’t say amid all the noise. After waiting for a few seconds, Sky reached over and flipped the levers back before giving the valve a final spin to fully open it.

“Okay,” she said after another few seconds. “Looks like I’m done. But anyway, I don’t know. But that’s the way I see it.” She gave him a shrug. “Like you said, you’ve gotten a lot of knowledge lately. Maybe you’re just still breaking it down, seeing where all the pieces fit. Does that … help?” Her eyes widened as they stared into his own, and he nodded, smiling.

“It does,” he said. “It’s a new way of looking at it, but—”

“So I just added to the pile?” she asked, her smile letting him know she was joking as she moved forward once more.

“You gave me a new way to think about it,” he said, returning her smile as she walked past. “And it does ease my mind somewhat. Crushing rocks to examine them would take time, and the expression of sand as my result would be apt. Perhaps I’m simply impatient at my own …” He paused, searching for the appropriate word. “Digestion? We do not eat rocks, but—”

“No, that works,” Sky said, climbing the steep steps to the upper workspace. She waited at the top, taking the wrench from him before his rear hooves had even left the ladder. “I mean, it makes sense me. You think about thinking, Sabra. You’re a philosopher. It shouldn’t surprise you that the more you learn, the more you philosophize on others philosophies, or whatever. Bleh,” she said, sticking her tongue out of her mouth as she shut the drawer. “And that’s why I used a machine in my analogy.”

“It was perfectly clear,” he said, giving her another smile. “Both what you just said, and your analogy. You have a way with using machines, both in creating them, and in using them to bring your ideas across. It really is quite impressive.”

“Asante.” The grease matting her cheeks didn’t quite work to hide her blush, and once again he felt the same electric tingle run right down to his hooves.

“Hapana, asante,” he replied. “Your way of looking at things is, I think, invaluable.” This time there was no hiding the blush on her cheeks, nor the tingle in his hooves.

“Right, well!” Sky said suddenly. “Should we go see if somepony’s made breakfast? I’m starved.”

“After you,” he said, bowing his head and motioning with one hoof. Sky flashed him another smile and trotted for the front, a high kick to her step.

He followed, relishing the feeling in his chest even as he fell back into his own thoughts. He was no fool. He knew what was causing the lightness in his chest, the spark that coursed through him whenever she smiled. How the touch of her hoof at night had left him at ease enough to sleep through the storms The Hummingbird weathered.

He followed Sky out of the engine room and toward the common room. It was clearly another stone in the crusher.

But maybe … Maybe he was all right with that.

Maybe.

Chapter 9

View Online

A bolt of lightning forked by above, the crack so loud Hunter tried to fold his ears back through his helmet’s protective covering. He could feel his coat standing on end, small sparks leaping between his pinions as the charge surged past above him. The wave of sound ruffled his feathers, shoving him down in the air even as competing wind currents seemed to tear at his body. He could feel his magic being pressed at all sides, his natural skill as a pegasus working hard to keep him stable among the unfriendly skies.

Unfriendly indeed, he thought as another wind shear roared past, hot and ozone-scented in the wake of the most recent electrical surge. He could feel the way his magic pressed against the wind, his body’s field twisting and forming an envelope around him that somewhat mitigated the powerful forces he was fighting against.

Somewhat mitigated. By the time he’d stabilized himself, the downward blast of wind being counteracted and canceled out by an equally dangerous updraft, he’d lost several hundred feet of elevation.

And I think I’m all right with that, he thought as he stared up at the titanic mass of dark clouds above him. This thing is dangerously out-of-control.

Worse yet, there was no apparent cause. That had been the whole reason he’d volunteered for such a dangerous flight in the first place, into a storm system so unpredictable and powerful that even now, just trying to hover he could see vivid green lines of magic glowing along his undersuit as his magic fought to keep him in place. Worse, he could feel how drained he was after just a short time fighting the storm.

It’s a good thing Sky Bolt’s managed to find a decent altitude for The Hummingbird to hover at, he thought, glancing back over his wings at the distant airship. He’d need to turn around and move to catch it soon, before he was tired enough that doing so would put him at risk. Sky Bolt had circled it around him so that he would mostly be able to fly with the wind on the way back, but if he was tired out and out of magic …

I could end up on the ground, he thought, his gaze switching to the distant surface of the Crystal Plains. And that could be bad. The conditions on the surface were horrid. As high as he was, he could clearly see massive rifts of snowfall forming where two high-speed wind patterns were grinding against one another, creating long tunnels of competing, swirling currents.

Just like the storms, he thought, bringing his eyes back up as another jagged bolt of lightning lit the dark clouds. Competing storm systems, all fighting one another with no rhyme or reason. Well, rhyme or reason that they’d been able to see from the safety of The Hummingbird, which was why he was currently fighting against the storm to get a better look.

Not that it’s telling me much, Hunter thought as he began pumping his wings once more, climbing through the turbulent air. The green lines of his undersuit flared as another gust of wind rolled into him from the side, his innate magic dampening its effect against him. This storm isn’t just impossible, it’s starkers!

For starters, it still hadn’t merged into one storm. Somehow, against all reason, it had stayed a mix of around seventeen storms, each one large enough to require the management of a full weather team on its own. As it was, they should have either cancelled one another out or merged into one superstorm that would have been titanic, but instead …

They’re all fighting, Hunter thought as he found a tight updraft, spreading his wings and soaring up several hundred feet in moments. The hair of his coat began to prickle again, and he tucked his ears close, his magic already pushing away the spare electrical charge in the air. Another bolt of lightning tore across the sky a moment later, its jagged forked claws ripping at the clouds. As if in reply, another nearby storm let loose a bolt of its own, an answering crack echoing across the storm-torn sky. All of them.

Seventeen angry weather systems, and somehow all of them are staying separate and getting stronger. It defied logic, but … There it is. He tucked his wings in as the air he was in abruptly became another updraft, powerful enough that he didn’t even fall more than a few feet before it was over.

He could see the barriers between the storms, the rifts where the mighty systems ground against one another, had even gotten close to two of them, and yet … I still can’t find a cause. Even activating his mod, washing his vision with literal magic, hadn’t shown him any source of the storms’ growing power.

Then again, the mod is short range, and I did have to keep my distance from those lines between the storms. He didn’t know what kinds of speeds the air was reaching inside the rifts. But I know I definitely don’t want to find out. There’s no telling where I’d end up. Or if I’d make it back at all.

Another bolt of lightning carved a bright path across the storm, lighting the clouds and making them look as if some titanic beast had gone to war deep within. He floated for a moment, feeling the wave of sound rush over him, followed by the rumbles of the answering echoes bouncing back from the Crystal Mountains.

Seventeen storms, no cause that I can see, unless there’s a meaning to everything looking slightly more vivid when I use the mod. More magic maybe?

Still, if he couldn’t see it, there wasn’t much point in hanging around beneath it, waiting for a bolt of electricity to decide his body made up one of the best local conduits. It was rare, but it happened, and even though Bolt had assured him that his armor would provide some insulation against an electrical strike, her emphasis on “some” and second, quicker admission that it probably wouldn’t be a good idea hadn’t filled him with much confidence.

He took a final look around the storm-wracked sky. The air was dark, almost looking like twilight rather than the noon the ship’s clocks had said it was. The clouds were simply too thick and too dark for much light to make it through. And all that snow makes it even worse. The swirling flakes filled the sky in all directions, sucking up light on their own and making it even harder to pick out details through the dimness that remained.

Still, I don’t think I stand to learn anything else out here other than how cold it is, or how quickly I can end up in over my wings. Said wings were starting to burn a little now, the constant exertion starting to drag even at his long-practiced beats. And though he was still warm enough between the suit and his own innate adaptability, something pegasi were good at, he could see traces of snow buildup along the edges of his armor plate, as well as ice tracks building where the plating overlapped.

I’m going to have to ask Sky Bolt about that, he thought, running a hoof along one of the tracks and watching as the pressure flaked the thin ice layer away. The howling wind caught the flakes, tearing them away and out of sight in an instant. Ice adds weight. And enough of it can make moving difficult. Did she plan for that when she made the armor?

If not, it was going to make the rest of the mission even more difficult. Snow getting packed into an opening in the plating was one thing, but it would eventually melt or fall out if one moved enough. But when the wind is cold enough to make it ice?

He turned toward the small saddlebags on his back. The cloth sides were stretched tight, as was usual for saddlebags made for heavy weather and low drag, but even then he could see the sides flexing with each passing burst of wind. Opening them was a trick with the wind howling around him, but the bags had seen a lot of careful, skillful designs over the centuries they’d been in use, and even when the zipper was peeled back, the howling wind tugging at the contents, none of them went anywhere. All had been securely locked in place by velcro. All the additional engineering did make for less overall capacity in the bags … but it was more than made up for by not having to worry about losing everything in said bags the moment the going got rough.

And right now, this definitely counts as that, Hunter thought as his searching hoof found what he was looking for. This crook storm would have ripped an ordinary pair of saddlebags right off me. He freed the small, cardboard cylinder from its housing, lifting it up so that he could clearly make out the writing printed along the side as well as the color of the cylinder itself. He didn’t want to grab the wrong one by mistake. Green meant he was on his way back, while red, or a flurry of every color he could grab in a panic, meant trouble, and to come try and pick him up.

Green. He nodded and zipped the saddlebags closed. A quick twist of the hoof later, and the sharp hiss of the flare lighting barely graced his ears before being overcome by the storm, barely audible. The light the flare put off, however, was not, instead so bright that his visor automatically tinted, and he turned his head away, making sure to keep holding the flare out and steady for a few moments, long enough for Bolt to have noticed it and translated the message. Coming back in; moving to intercept.

After a few seconds more he let the flare drop. The wind, already tearing against it in his hoof, took it immediately, bouncing the flare off of his side and then past his wings as it hurtled off into the sky. For a moment he tracked it, twisting his neck to watch as the bright, green glow arced off through the thick swirls of snow. It never vanished, but it did fade slightly, and even take a slight upwards delay for a moment, some wind shear hurling it skyward before gravity caught it again.

He turned his gaze back southward to see the lights on The Hummingbird faintly flashing once, then twice. Message sent and received, bush-style. He changed the angle on his wings, beating southward and searching the sky for any sign of snow going his way.

It didn’t take him long to find it, tucking himself into a tight, spiral roll as he passed the barrier between two currents and coming out in a long, upward-rising corridor of wind that was swiftly heading south. Which let him ease off of the heavy wingbeats, the break, however momentary, welcome against the slow but steady burn that had been building in his muscles. He kept his eyes on The Hummingbird, watching as it adjusted its own course, angling to the side so as to line up with his approach a bit better. He was far enough away that he could just barely make out the rotating propeller mounts that aided the aircraft in its sideways scuttle.

I must have flown further north than I meant to, he thought as he powered along the channel of wind. Another brilliant bolt of lightning arced across the sky, ozone peppering his nostrils seconds later, the smell hot and angry. And maybe I’m a little higher now than I wanted to be. He could see the wind channel he was following breaking apart ahead of him anyways, splitting into smaller streams that went in every direction.

Which is crazy to see on such a small scale, he thought, picking one of the streams and following it along. This is like what you’d find high above the clouds, or on a smaller scale between mountain peaks or canyons. But in the open like this? Like the weather, it made no sense.

And yet, here I am flying in it, he thought, bringing his wings in tight against his sides as another gust cut across his path and dropping through the thick snows. The Hummingbird was closer now, more details coming into clarity across its triangular shape. A light dusting of snow had somehow taken root across the top of the envelope, giving the craft a wind-sculpted appearance. As he drew closer, the source of the nooks that let the snow clump became apparent: ropes and ridges along the envelope, a source of drag that wasn’t avoidable, but also tiny in comparison to the rest of the craft.

He was still too high. He adjusted his altitude, settling as best he could into a glide and letting himself lose altitude as The Hummingbird came closer and closer. He could hear the faint, constant rumble of the propellers now, the winds and storms not enough to cover it up, and see the lit glass from the cabins, though making out much detail was still too hard. He couldn’t tell if Bolt had spotted him yet, but the airship was holding steady at its current location, twisting so that door on the side was facing in his direction. It wasn’t open yet, but why they would bother under the current conditions would have raised a host of questions. Another forked talon of lightning arced across the sky behind him as he beat his wings harder.

He was closer now, the rumble of the propellers swelling to a dull roar. He’d have to be careful once he got close; his armor was good, but getting sucked into a prop would likely be more than he could stand. Or the propeller, I guess, he thought as he dropped down even further. Thankfully, the swirling snows were a good indicator of exactly where the vortexes around each propeller were.

But no sense in making it any riskier than it needs to be. He dropped again, coming at the airship from slightly beneath its azimuth. A gust of wind threatened to send him to the side, and then toward the surface of the airship much quicker than he’d intended, and he flared his wings, green lines on his suit glowing fiercely as his magic reacted. He hit the side of the crew cabin just forward of the door, his front hooves impacting the metal with faint clunks that he felt more than heard due to the combination of storm, propellers, and wind assaulting his ears. His wings were beating quickly, working to keep him in place as he moved to the side and battered one hoof against the door. Through the thick porthole glass he saw a purple, crystalline helmet, and then the door opened, snow howling through the opening. Hunter darted in after it, the door slamming shut in a yellow glow and cutting off the outside rage.

“Thanks,” Hunter said, stretching his wings as he looked over at Nova. “I was wondering how we’d get that door shut again.”

“Not a problem,” Nova replied, his voice only just barely muffled by his own helmet. Hunter shook himself, stretching his wings and watching as flakes of snow and ice broke free of his armor. Again, Sky Bolt had thought ahead, the deck directly in front of the door a mesh grating rather than a flat surface. “Looks like it was pretty nasty out there.” He motioned with one hoof, pointing at Hunter’s head and then tapping the underside of his own helmet.

“Huh?” It wasn’t hard to see what he’d been pointing at. Thin, windswept icicles hung from the underside of his helmet, clustered around the grill he’d been breathing through. A probing hoof told him that the clasps beneath his chin had been crusted over with ice as well. “That’s a little worrying,” he said, trying to get his hoof to release the clasp and failing as it slid over the ice. “Little help?” Nova’s horn lit with a yellow glow, and a second later the clasp gave way.

“Thanks a second time,” Hunter said, lifting the helmet over his head and feeling a faint sense of relief as his mane was freed at last. He sat back on his haunches, rotating the helmet in his hooves and looking at it. There was definitely ice built up around the grate they were supposed to both speak and breath through, as well as … He twisted it slightly, angling the entryway’s light down into the openings.

“Yup,” he said. “That’s going to be a problem. There’s ice in there. Not much, but if you didn’t clear it out periodically under heavy use, you’d find it harder and harder to breathe.”

“That’s not good,” Nova said, pulling his own helmet off with a wave of his magic.

“Nope. It’s not.” He brought one hoof down against the side of the ice, the small icicles shattering under the impact and dropping down through the grating. He gave the helmet a quick shake, watching as the clumps of ice inside the grill, now disturbed, dropped free. “Bolt’s work is pretty much spot on. I mean—” He rapped a rear hoof against the grating beneath him. “Stuff like this. But I don’t think she planned for this one.”

“Or that,” Nova said, pointing at Hunter’s chest.

He glanced down, away from the last of the ice he was shaking free of his helmet. “What, the ice?” he asked, pausing to rap his free hoof against his chest.”

“Higher,” Nova said. “Neck of your suit.”

“Neck of my—? Oh.” He could feel it now. A chilled band of ice where the material of the undersuit stopped. The same material was spread along the inside of his helmet and made to overlap, but only on the sides. Along the front …

“Right. One more bit of build up. Not life-threatening, though.”

“Uncomfortable, I’d bet,” Nova replied, and he nodded.

“Yeah, it is.” A single swipe of his hoof swept the packed snow away, though it didn’t remove the now-obvious dampness in his coat. He shook himself again, more bits of ice and snow—more than he’d truly realized—sliding off of his tan armor or out from beneath the plating.

“Guess that’s what you get for flying through this,” Nova said, watching as Hunter gave himself another shake. “It’s almost as bad as what we’d look like after our practices.”

“No,” Hunter said, running a hoof along his side and dislodging a bit of ice beneath one crystal plate. “It’s worse. This is ice. Snow-packed to ice is one thing, this is snow melting to ice and freezing over.”

“Nothing good heat spell can’t take care of. Or a shake,” Nova added as Hunter flapped his wings once more, water, snow, and ice flying free of the feathers in near equal amounts. Without his magic, he wouldn’t have even been flying.

“But that takes time,” he pointed out, folding his wings against the cold sides of his armor. “No armor’s perfect, granted. Field testing finds all kinds of problems. We’ll just have to mention them to her and hope future models have a fix.”

“Future models?” Nova asked as he gave himself a final shake. “Like the armor?”

He nodded. “You didn’t notice Steel and I’s helmets are a bit different from yours?” He held the helmet up so Nova could get a good look at it. “She’s always improving on the design. We’ve all got the Mark II armor sets, but Steel and I are the only ones with Mark II helmets.”

“What’s the difference?” Nova asked, taking the helmet from him and holding up alongside his own.

“Better hearing protection. The little dial for the mod’s part of the helmet. And … a flashlight.” Hunter took the helmet back and slid it over his head before pressing its side with his hoof and holding his cheek against the interior for a few seconds. A bright light stabbed out from a pair of small crystals alongside his eyes. He repeated the motion, holding for a few seconds, and the light faded. “Apparently, it was expensive. But Bolt made it happen.”

“Huh.” Nova stared down at his own helmet for a moment. “Well, if that’s all it does, I think I’ll be content with my first one for now. Those are nice additions, but hopefully I won’t need them while hunting this King Sombra guy.”

Hunter nodded. “They’re minor, like I said. Anyway, I’d better make my report. Steel in the crew area?”

“Last I saw,” Nova said, stepping down the hall and past the head. “I’ll bet I can summarize it, though.”

“No bet,” Hunter replied. “You’ve looked out a window.”

“So can Steel.”

“Touché,” Hunter replied, setting his helmet back atop his head but not bothering to strap it in place. “By the way, where’s my hat?”

“On your bunk,” Nova replied as they reached the middle point of the T-shaped hallway and turned forward. “Seemed to be the best place for it.”

He nodded. “It’ll feel good to put it back on.”

“Why’d you leave it, again?” Nova asked.

“The enchantment on it doesn’t work as well with my helmet,” he said, rapping a hoof against the hard crystal. “Goes all aggro thanks to the magic-nullifying stuff.”

“You were wearing it earlier, though.”

“I was, yeah,” he said as he stepped into the common room. Steel was seated in front of the table, his eyes on a map. No one else was present. “But that was before the wind picked up. Even without the enchantment, my hat can be removed. With the enchantment going weak and the wind outside the way it is now …” He shook his head, even as he walked over to the bunk and swapped his helmet out for his Stetson, leaving the crystal helm sitting atop the bedding.

“You could ask Sky Bolt about that,” Nova suggested as Hunter turned to look at Steel. “She could probably fix it.”

“Could, yes. Is it important?” He waggled a wing-tip. “At the moment, no.” Not that I’m not considering stuffing it into my saddlebags the moment we deploy. He cleared his throat, then brought one hoof up in a salute, waiting for Steel to acknowledge his presence.

The captain let him wait for a moment, still studying something on the map, and Hunter leaned forward, eyes tracking downward. Huh. It was a map of the Crystal Plains, the kind that came wrapped in plastic so that a commander or Ranger leader could draw on it without permanently marring the surface. A recent one too, judging by the inclusion of the Northern Rail Line cutting up from its southern edge. A number of locations had been marked in red, either with circles or some other mark, and a capped marker was sitting by Steel’s left front hoof.

Finally, Steel looked up, his blue eyes stern as they locked with Hunter’s, and he returned the salute. “Lieutenant.” His tone was formal. One of those moments, then.

“Reporting as requested,” Hunter said, dropping his hoof to the deck.

“And? What’s your report?”

“Any weather crew that wasn’t starkers would turn tail and run, sir. The weather out there is so crooked it makes the lightning look straight—” Another flash lit the room, a dull rumble echoing after it. “And worse, trying to make sense of it is—”

“Like trying to square a circle?” Steel asked, his tone still gruff.

“Eh, I was going to say ‘likely to make one crack a fruity,’ but that works too.”

Steel nodded, the motion so firm it looked more like a stone statue shifting its perch than a living being. “How many separate storms?”

“At least seventeen, boss, Possibly more.”

“Possibly?”

He nodded and took a deep breath. “You can have a storm system on top of another storm system, though it’s rare and the two usually end up combining. Given what we’re seeing here, where these storms aren’t … Well, they’re not behaving like normal storms. So there could be a whole layer of storms higher up that I couldn’t get to. But down here? Seventeen that I counted.”

“Are they stable?” Steel asked.

He frowned. “Depends on your definition of stable, sir. Again, this weather’s pretty crook. I’m not trying to talk a beat up about it. I’ve never seen anything like this, and I’ve traveled around a lot. The wind shears where the sides of the storms are rubbing up against one another?” He shook his head. “I didn’t even want to get close. There’d be a high chance I wouldn’t make it back.”

Steel nodded again, breaking eye contact at last and turning his attention to the map in front of him. “Would you say these storms pose a threat to The Hummingbird?”

“Absolutely.” The admission was out of his mouth without a second thought. “No mistake, boss, The Hummingbird is the best airship I’ve ever been on, true dinkum, but these storms are something else entirely. The amount of power being tossed around in that lightning, plus the winds and the gradients where the storms are rubbing up against one another?” He shook his head. “If we weren’t torn to pieces, we’d end up grounded. Like I said, any weather crew that wasn’t starkers would be leaving this one be.”

“And are we starkers, lieutenant?” Steel asked, still eyeing the map.

“Nah,” he replied, grinning. “We’re worse. We’re Dusk Guard.”

Steel smiled. “That’s what I was hoping to hear.” He looked back up again. “All right, then based on what you’ve seen, tell me this: Does it appear that the storms are being controlled in any way?”

“Controlled? Like … Somepony or someone was using them?” He shook his head. “If they are, it’s pretty hooves-off. It doesn’t look like anyone is in charge out there. It’s just kind of … a mess.” Another distant rumble underscored his comments.

“All right,” Steel said. “What about patterns. Any sign of rhyme or reason to it? Cause?”

Again he shook his head. “No sir. If there’s a pattern there, I couldn’t see it. It’s just a bunch of inexplicably supercharged storms running up against one another like two hydras fighting over territory.”

“And crushing everyone beneath them,” Steel said, his voice low and gravelly. “An apt analogy.”

“That’s why I said it.”

“Fine,” Steel said, letting out a long sigh. “I’ll be honest, I was hoping you’d find a little more, a pattern or something, but … If it’s not there, then there’s little you can do.”

“Not that I could see, boss,” he said. “Sorry.”

“Anything else to report?”

“The winds out there are cold enough to freeze your breath into ice,” Hunter said, nodding in the direction of his helmet. “I had a decent build-up of it around the grill on my helmet when I got back, plus a few other places along my armor.”

“Mmm.” Steel shifted his gaze toward the helmet in question. “Mention it to Sky Bolt, I’ll let the rest of the team know before we deploy so we can keep an eye on that. Last thing we want is someone suffocating because of build up. While you’re at it, tell Sky Bolt to take us a little lower. If the storms are that bad and getting worse …”

“They are,” Hunter said when Steel paused. The captain nodded.

“Then tell her to drop us down a bit lower when she can. And later I’ll need you to take over for her while I run her over what I have of the deployment plan. Other than that … Stay in your armor and at the ready. That’s all.”

He nodded as Steel turned his attention back to the map. He’s worried, Hunter thought. I haven’t seen him this tense in a while.

“Nova,” Steel said as Hunter moved back to his bunk, picking up his helmet and cradling it in one wing. “Come over here. I want you to look over what I’ve got so far while I explain it. See what you think.”

“Sure.” Nova moved across the room as Hunter made his way to the cockpit, reaching the side of the table just as Hunter hit the latch on the cockpit door.

“Coming in,” he said, drawing the door to one side and stepping through without waiting. Now that he’d warmed up a bit, his body was sending other messages his way, including one that would require removing his armor for. A conversation cut off as he entered, Sky Bolt looking at him from the pilot’s seat, Sabra’s own calm, collected gaze coming from the bunk on the port side.

“Sky Bolt, Sabra,” he said, sliding the door shut behind him. “Sorry to interrupt.”

“No no, it’s fine,” Bolt said, giving him a grin. “We were just chatting. What’s up? New orders?”

He nodded. “Steel wants you to take us down if you can. Further from the storm.”

“All right …” Bolt replied, drawing the word out. “I can, but if we get far enough down, we’re going to start running into weather coming off of the ground, or mid-level systems. I can drop us, but it’ll be a little blind without a few suggestions, or you know, a recon report.”

“What’s our altitude currently?”

“About thirty-five hundred feet.”

“That low?” He let out a whistle.

“Storm clouds keep dropping.”

“Right, well try taking us down another five-hundred. That shouldn’t put us in anything much rougher than this.”

Bolt reached out, hooves at the controls, and a moment later the airship began sinking, just quick enough that he could feel it in the bottoms of his hooves. “Anything else I need to know?” she asked.

“Seventeen storms, wind so cold it’s freezing water into ice, and build-up on the armor.” He twisted his wing, bringing the helmet around. “Especially around the grill on my helmet. I had a whole bunch of icicles starting to clog it up when I got back. It hadn’t turned into a problem yet, but had I stayed out there long enough, it probably would have become one.”

“Ice build-up?” Sky Bolt frowned as she took the helmet from him. “Ponyfeathers. I didn’t think about that.”

“Can you do anything to fix it while we’re on this op?” Hunter asked as Bolt flipped the helmet in her hooves. “Heating or something?”

“No,” she said, scowling and tossing the helmet back to him. “I could modify it if I were home, or figure out a fix for it with a new helmet entirely, but out here …” She shook her head. “Sorry, but I can’t. How fast did it build up?”

“How long was I out?”

“So about a half-hour then.” She rubbed at her chin with one hoof. “That’s not too bad. As long as we check one-another’s helmets, we should be okay. Any other issues?”

“Ice and snow pack along my neck.”

Another scowl. “I knew that was going to be a problem. I tried to cut costs, but …” She threw her hooves up. “One more thing to change about the undersuits for the Mark III, I guess.”

“It’s not that bad,” he began, but she shook her head, holding up a hoof.

“Nope, not buying it,” she said. “If snow and ice can build up there, so can something else. And if it’s that close to something like the neck, that’s bad. Water could get inside the suit along the coat, all sorts of possibilities. It’s a vulnerability. I’ll make a note of it.”

“All … right?” Flashes of the mad engineer Sky Bolt sometimes became were shining through in her eyes, ideas sparking around behind them like the lightning bolts of the storm. “Well, there was some snowpack build up under some of the plates. Ice build up under the ones that overlapped. Came off when smacked, though.”

“Good, because there’s not too much I can do about that without sending the cost sky-high,” she said, her eyes still wide with thought. “What about the suit?”

“The suit?”

“Yeah, the undersuit,” she said, her mane flipping as she spun toward him. “Did the material ever feel stiff or brittle? Like it was resisting at all?”

“I …” He paused for a moment, rolling his mind back. “Not that I remember,” he said. “It seemed pretty normal to me, personally.”

“Good!” Sky Bolt threw a hoof into the air. “So that’s holding up just fine.”

“Magic lines or whatever worked well too.”

Her smile widened, though the thoughtful look in her eyes stayed. “Good. Anything else?”

“Sometime later tonight, Steel’s going to have you and me swap spots for a few minutes while he talks you through a more detailed deployment plan, and gets your input on it.”

“I can handle that. Been wondering about it myself.” As she spoke, Sky extended a wing, pushing at the controls. There was a faint sensation of downward pressure as The Hummingbird settled at its new altitude, and then it was gone, the faint shivering of the superstructure under the wind the only sense of motion. “Anything else?”

“Nope,” he said with a quick shake of his head, tucking the helmet back under one wing. “So I’ll leave you two to your talking and—”

“That’s all we were doing!” Sky Bolt said suddenly, eyes wide.

“And get out of your manes,” he finished, his voice a little quieter. He gave the pair a grin. “Should I have been saying something else?”

“No!” Sky Bolt all but squeaked, her face flushing a vivid red and her ears flat against the back of her head. Sabra seemed to have taken a moment longer to catch on, but Hunter could see the pale flush rising in his cheeks.

“I mean,” he said, leaning against the door and giving them both an even wider grin. “I’m the team tracker. I can see from the way the covers are on the bunk, as well as the shape of the mattress, that neither of you have been involved in any sort of makeout-based dereliction of—”

“I-am-the-pilot-and-as-the-pilot-off-my-bridge!” Sky Bolt squeaked out, standing in her seat, her head almost touching the ceiling. “Out-out-out-out-out!”

“All right, I’m going, I’m going!” The latch gave with a soft click beneath his hoof, the door sliding aside with ease as he backed through it. He didn’t give her time to bark a retort, shutting it just as quickly as he’d opened it.

“Trouble?” Steel asked. Hunter turned to see the captain looking at him with a quizzical expression on his face.

“Nah,” he replied, unfolding his wing and tossing his helmet, catching it in the air with his front hooves. “Just a beat up, mixed with a little goss.” He trotted over to his bunk and set the helmet down atop it. “Nothing to get worked up over.”

“All right.” There was an unspoken undercurrent to the words, an undercurrent that said “I don’t know quite what you mean by that, but I suspect it’s not worth undermining your position as a lieutenant to find out.”

And he’d be right, Hunter thought as he turned toward the T-hall and the med-bay once more. Rank hath its privileges, as they say.

And, he recalled, sobering as he neared the med-bay door. It has its responsibilities and drawbacks as well. He reached up with one hoof and knocked against the door.

“Enter.” Dawn’s voice was crisp and clear, with just a hint of her Manehatten accent. He hit the latch, sliding the door to the side and stepping through. Dawn was standing in her pinkish armor, sorting through the medical kits she’d spent the first few days putting together and, from the look of it, double-checking her counts.

“Lieutenant,” she said as he closed the door behind him. “To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure? Does the captain need something?”

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “Actually, I do.”

Dawn paused in her count, lifting one eyebrow as she looked at him. “All right, Lieutenant. And, for you to willingly walk in here, it must be official business.” She set down the clipboard she’d been holding in her magic, the orange glow winking out as she gave him full attention. “What do you need?”

“A conversation,” Hunter said, mind racing. I should have given more thought to how I was going to do this. He paused for a moment as Dawn stared at him. Might as well just go right for it. No sense making this any sort of chinwag. “About Nova Beam.”

“I see. Has he done something that requires my attention? Or, should I say, is he planning on doing something that will?”

He shook his head. “No, actually. Let me rephrase that. It’s about you.” He kept his eyes on hers as her forehead furrowed, watching for any sign of hesitation or wariness in them. “And how you’ve been acting around Nova for the last few days.”

There. The corner of her eye had twitched ever so slightly, a very slight widening that she had caught very quickly.

“Uh huh,” he said as she opened her mouth, and without commenting she closed it again. “He noticed it the first day. Told me you were acting slightly cold around him. More stroppy than usual. He said he’d tried approaching you about it, but you brushed him off. Made him all kinds of sus, and to be honest, me as well.”

“So?” he asked, taking a step closer. “What’s the deal?”

Dawn stood there, her body locked, frozen beneath his gaze. Her expression shifted, looking almost worried, and a river of icy-cold fear rolled through his gut.

What if she’s not Dawn? He leaned back slightly, making sure he was balanced if something truly had gone wrong. What if she’s a changeling, and Nova was the only one she couldn’t fool—

Then, to his surprise, Dawn slumped back, her hindquarters hitting the deck as she let out a sigh. “All right. I suppose it was too much to think I could simply bottle it up for later. And stop looking like you’re about to attack me, Hunter. This is just … difficult, is all.”

“Right … I’m not hearing any explanation.”

She glared at him, a cold gaze that almost did make him want to step back. “You wanted to know what my problem was. Fine. You’re going to hear it. The day we left I … I received some unexpected news.”

“News?” He frowned, relaxing his posture slightly, but not entirely. “What kind of news?”

“Hunter,” she said, her voice quiet. “Relax. I’m not about to try and pull a doctor’s prerogative on you.” She let out a sigh. “I need to tell someone about this. I would have preferred Steel, or nopony at all, but I suppose you’ll do.”

“So … you’re not a changeling?”

“A—!?” She rose. “Is that what Nova thinks?”

He shook his head. “No. But you were acting a bit unlike you a moment ago there.”

Dawn rolled her eyes. “Of for the love of—! Fine. The first time I met you was in a medical post outside of Fillydelphia on the east side of the Foal Mountains. You were overdue on your shots, and so I brought out the needles, and you screamed like a little filly.”

Ouch. “Not untrue … but half the Rangers heard that story.”

“And you wrapped your hooves around a beam in the back of the station before I caught you.”

“Um …” Fewer knew that story.

“And I had to restrain you.”

Fewer still.

“And before you got the injection, you begged me to tell a certain young mare after you ‘died’ that she was the prettiest mare you’d ever laid—”

“Okay! Okay!” He held up his hooves. “Truce! Sorry. I just … It was a little … unlike you.”

“I suppose that’s fair … somewhat. I should be allowed to have an off day.”

“Fine.” He gave her a nod. “I apologize. I wasn’t thinking.”

“Well, that assures me you’re perfectly fine, then.”

“Hey …”

“So,” Dawn said, continuing as if he hadn’t even spoken. “You wanted to know why I’ve been cold around Nova.” It wasn’t a question. “Fine. The truth is … In a moment of weakness, I broke a law. A rather severe one.”

“Wait, you what?” For a moment he wasn’t sure he heard correctly, but no, there was Dawn, looking up at him with an expression he’d never once seen on her face. Regret? Fear maybe? Her ears had even fallen back slightly.

“I broke a law,” she said again. “I … At the time I convinced myself it was just on whimsy, but then—”

He waved a hoof, cutting her off. “Okay, start at the beginning. What law did you break, and why?” Maybe she’s just overreacting.

“The law against taking a creature’s blood without permission.”

“Oh.” Okay, yeah, that’s a pretty old one … but hardly anypony remembers that. “When?”

“When I was collecting blood from all of you to use for our supplies, in case any of you needed transfusions. I took extra from Nova.”

“Okay … why?”

She let out a sigh, then stared right at him. “Because despite his rough edges, Nova is a colt with a good heart and surprising depths. I may not have the greatest of bedside manners, but I try. I thought ... I …”

“You what?” he asked.

She shook her head. “I thought I would run a relations test with his blood. Or have somepony at Canterlot General do it. Just … in case.”

“Oh. That’s it?”

“I didn’t have his permission.”

“Yeah, okay, well that’s two strikes against you, but it’s not like you were trying to do outlawed magic or something with it. No one’s going to count the first. And sure, you’re supposed to get permission before doing something like that, but—”

He froze, his mind skipping ahead as his eyes went wide. Oh. Oh no. He looked at Dawn. “Crikey …” he breathed. “You don’t mean …?”

She nodded. “I just meant for them to do a local check, but because of my office, they sent a sample to every city and town in Equestria. Took them over a month to do the scan, check for relations, but … They found a match.”

For a moment he couldn’t speak. He felt gobsmacked. Thunderstruck. But after a moment, he found his voice. “He … has a family?”

“He has a sister,” Dawn said. “In Vanhoover. All I got was a name and a relation reading from the spell. But it’s definitely a sister.”

He worked his jaw, trying to come up with something to say and settling on “Crikey.”

“That’s why I’ve been trotting on eggshells around him,” Dawn continued. “I’d convinced myself that a tired, overworked slip-up was fine considering it had been made out of the kindness of my heart. And as time went on, I assumed that they’d simply found nothing, and that a low priority had somehow been assigned to it, which was why I wasn’t hearing back. And then, several days ago …” She let out a small huff. “And now I have to decide how and when to tell him that the truth he’s believed his whole life, that he was truly alone with regards to his family, isn’t true.”

“How did he not already know?” Hunter shook his head. “They test for that with missing pony cases like Nova’s, don’t they?”

“They do,” Dawn said. “But it only works if the blood of someone that they’re directly and clearly related to has already been collected and scanned. So if his sister or any other family members had never had their blood scanned—and to be quite fair, many never have had their blood kept track of in that way …”

“Then there wouldn’t have been any matches.” He sat back with a thump. “And then years later, his sister decides to look?”

“I don’t know,” Dawn said with a shake of her head. “It may have been that she was in a orphanage at the same time, and they didn’t bother with the spell because they knew where she’d come from. Or they did the same thing, and the timing was just such that no connection was ever made. I don’t know.”

“But now you do know, and I know, and … Oh boy.” He brought his hoof up, rubbing at his head under the brim of his hat. “And now you have to tell Nova. Not today!” he said quickly. “But sometime soon. Maybe after this mission is over. You have to tell him, Dawn.”

“I … I know.” Her voice was quiet. “I just don’t know how. I violated his trust, Hunter. And after it took so much to earn it, I don’t know exactly how he’ll react.”

“Does his sister know?”

She shook her head. “The doctors left it up to me to inform her. The files are sitting in my desk, locked, back in our barracks.”

“You have to tell him.”

“I know.” The emphasis Dawn had put on the word was more than enough to make it clear she understood. “I just need to figure out how. And when.”

“Does anyone else know about this?”

She shook her head, lips pursed tightly. “You’re the first.”

“Right. Well, when I get a spare moment, I’m going to mention it to Steel. He needs to be in on this. But he’s going to tell you what I’m about to. This can’t wait long, Dawn. You’re going to have to apologize and hope he forgives you … and then you’re going to need to tell him. Just …” He paused, mind racing. We can’t hit him with this right in the middle of a mission. We just can’t.

“After the mission,” he said, watching as Dawn’s eyes widened in surprise. “Nova’s tough, but he can’t handle something like this right now. Not with what we’re in the middle of.” It feels cruel, but … It’d throw him completely wonky.

“And if something happens,” Dawn began. “And he doesn’t make it?”

“Then …” His chest felt tight, like something was pressing against it from the inside. “Then we tell his sister he died a hero.”

Privileges and responsibilities, he thought as they both fell silent. The higher you are, the harder they become.

“Very well,” Dawn said. “Thank you, lieutenant. And you’ll speak to the captain?”

“I will,” he said, nodding. “Tonight, before—” His words cut off as Dawn snapped a hoof up to her horn, eyes going wide.

“My horn!” she said before he could speak. “It’s itching!” A moment later, he heard a yell of surprise from outside the bay, a yell mixed with his own name.

“Hunter!” It was Nova. “It’s back! And it’s really burning!”

He spun, slamming the door to one side and bolting out into the hall, wings tucked tight against his sides. Nova was at the entryway to the common room, faint sparks sizzling off of the end of his horn.

“Move!” My helmet is on my bunk. Why did I leave it on my bunk? Nova stepped back even as Hunter brought his wings up to shove him aside, and he burst into the common room, eyes locking on his bunk. He snapped his wings back, throwing himself across the room in a single bound.

“Nova!” The shout belonged to Dawn. “Cast a spell. Anything! Burn off the excess!” Hunter’s hooves scraped across the surface of the helmet, slipping before finding purchase. Behind him, a bright, silvery glow lit the cabin as Nova’s magic went to work. He recognized the brief color. Crescent shield.

He shoved his helm down over his head, ignoring the pressure in his ears as his mane folded over them. At the moment, he didn’t need to hear. What he needed was …

The mod! He reached down inside himself, closing his eyes as he poked at the magic at the very core of his being. Come on, he thought, stoking the magic and feeling it swell. Just head for that mod on my back and …

He opened his eyes. Yes! The spell exploded out of him, a vivid sphere that moved in all directions, through the window in front of him, through the wall of the ship, through the storm, and …

Hunter felt his jaw drop.

“Hunter?” Steel’s voice almost felt distant. Far away. “What do you see?”

“I …” In front of him, moving through the sky, was a rift. Or a chasm. Or a tightly bound roll of universe that looked like a portrait, a picture that was at the same time flat and not. It was as if the world itself had been bound up in a bright, vivid tornado, the colors too bright, the movements all wrong, shifting in ways that made his eyes want to look at something else. Only he couldn’t look at something else, because the edges, bright and black at the same time, hurt even worse.

But still he looked, he had to look. Because inside of the chasm in front of him, he could make out ponies. Not whole ones, but bits and pieces. A hoof here. A side there. But twisted and wrong.

The twist in the balloon, he thought as the chasm swept toward them, twisting and turning in multiple directions at once. I’m seeing the twist. Jagged streams of what he assumed were magic were all around it, pulsing and shifting in ways that didn’t make sense, growing as they shrank and getting closer even as they pulled away.

Then it was on them, and he threw his hooves up, falling back on his back as the … thing … moved through the side of the airship like it wasn’t there, the world seeming to fracture around its edges like a shattered lens. He watched as it passed by his own hoof, the universe coming apart and yet not as it passed by.

“Hunter!” Steel was beside him now. “Hunter!” Hooves clutched at his shoulders. Then a more distant shout, Steel’s broken, distorted face turning to shout at Dawn, and Hunter realized that he could see past Steel’s skin, like the stallion’s head had been opened up and rolled inside of itself, interior and exterior both visible at the same time. “Can we take that helmet off?” It made his stomach churn.

But only his head … Hunter thought, his eyes shifting down to Steel’s body. Why not the rest of his body? It still looked … mostly fine, the pulses of magic wrapping around the chasm skipping off of it as they swept by. Why?

Hooves wrapped around the sides of his helmet, tugging upward. “No!” At his cry they fell back, leaving it on his head. The chasm was already moving out the other side of the aircraft, the world around it breaking and reforming as if nothing had happened, but there was something different about the way it was moving past Nova.

“Oh crikey.” It hit him almost like a physical blow. He shoved his way past Steel, ignoring the stallion’s surprised protest as he ran to the far side of the ship, where the last of the chasm was rolling out, and looked up.

The storms. The chasm was moving right along the rift between one of the storms. It is magic feeding the storms and keeping them separate. Something about the way they twist the world is doing it. He brought his eyes back once more as the last of the strange distortion passed out of The Hummingbird, holding up a hoof to the window as the tight channels of magic around it followed.

Then one of the trailing strands collided with his hoof, and before his very eyes, broke apart, breaking into pieces with too many sides and fading away. In front of him, the chasm pulsed, ripples that both were and weren’t running across and through it.

The armor. It resists magic. He stared down at his hoof in shock. And every time that spell hits us, it’s fighting against us to stay intact. Which means … He looked up to catch a final glimpse of the rift, more strands of magic around it snapping like overstretched strings, each one sending long ripples up, down, and … other directions.

And we’re right in the middle of it. Someone was shouting at him, trying to get his attention, but he shoved the words away. Like a twisted balloon. What happens to us … if we’re in that twist when it unravels? He turned and caught a final glimpse of the chasm sweeping out of the range of his mod. It was pulsing. Seething.

Swelling.

He tore the helmet off, eyes wide, and bolted for the cockpit. “Sky Bolt!” The door slammed to the side under his hooves. “Get us out of here!”

For a moment, Bolt appeared frozen, her hooves outstretched toward the control panel. Sabra had been caught halfway out of the bunk a look of alarm on his muzzle. Then one hoof slammed down, The Hummingbird’s propellers roaring as the airship came to full power. “What direction?” she called.

“I …” He darted forward, yanking the map down from the ceiling. “Where are we?”

“Here!” She tapped a lower section of the map with one hoof.

“South then. As fast as you can get us. Don’t stop until we’re out from under the center of these storms!”

“Got it!” Sky Bolt yanked the yoke to one side, the deck pitching beneath Hunter’s hooves as the airship went into tight turn. “Fast as we can go!”

“I just hope it’s fast enough,” Hunter said, turning to see Steel and the rest of the team staring at him from the main cabin. The captain’s face was all business, while Nova and Dawn both looked worried.

“Fast enough for what?” Steel asked over the roar of the propellers. “Got time to fill the rest of us in on what you saw, lieutenant?”

“I hope so.” He didn’t miss the look of increases alarm that shifted over the team’s faces as they digested his words. “I saw …” He sat back as the ship shuddered, putting his hooves to his head. “Crikey, Steel, I don’t know how to put it, how to get the words out of my gob. I’ve never seen anything like it.” Even in his memories, the scene felt unreal, like he was trying to grasp something that’d been coated in oil and then made slicker with water. “Sun and moon, Steel. It was like … the balloon.”

“The balloon?” Steel asked, head pulling back in confusion.

He nodded. “The balloon that you or the Princesses talked about. I saw it!”

“You mean like a giant city?” Steel asked. Behind him, Nova had a curious expression on his face.

“No.” He shook his head. “It was like … that little twisty bit keeping it from us. I saw that. And it was all … wrong, like the whole world had cracked. That’s what Nova’s been feeling every time his horn itched. It was that …”

“Tether,” Dawn suggested, Nova stepping past behind her.

“Yeah, that,” he said, nodding as he looked back at Steel. “A tether. And it’s coming apart. That’s what’s causing the storms. It’s moving along the path between them, and …” Something inside his head fell into place. “And there’s more than one,” he said. “That’s why there are so many different storms. There’s more than one of these things.”

“So why south?” Steel asked.

“Because of our armor.”

“What?” Hunter turned his head toward Sky Bolt as her outburst cut into the conversation. “What’s wrong with my armor?”

“Nothing’s wrong with it,” he said. “It works, and that’s the problem. I could see what I think was the spell around the Crystal Empire. And when it hit our armor … it came apart.”

“It’s a weak spell,” Dawn said, eyes lighting up. “Too weak to stand against something that would resist it. And so when it passes by us, it breaks.”

“And lets more of its energy out to feed the storms, and brings the Crystal Empire one step closer to coming back entirely.”

“But why south?” Steel asked again, glancing at both of them.

“Because,” Hunter said, looking the captain straight in the eyes. “What happens if there’s an ant climbing around on that balloon twist when it starts to come undone?”

For a moment the cabin was silent as everyone worked through what he’d just said, and then Steel nodded. “Oh. I see now.”

“A city appears in the air … which we’re on all sides of,” Dawn said. “Tearing us apart.”

“Or knocking us off to the side … Or really who knows what,” Hunter said, glancing at the cockpit. Bolt and Sabra both were in motion, but both had wide-eyed looks of shock on their faces. Bolt’s switched to a growl.

“No way am I letting that happen to my baby.”

“Well, I’d rather it not happen to me either,” Hunter said, turning back to the cabin. Nova was staring out one of the back windows. “But if these … tethers, I guess, is the best word. If these tethers are what’s causing the storm, than all we need to do is get out from underneath the storms, get to the edges. Use that as our compass.”

“Good thinking.” Steel stepped forward, poking his head into the cockpit. “About how long will that take us?”

“At this speed?” Sky Bolt shook her head. “Fifteen, maybe twenty minutes. Might be less, depending on the winds.” The vibration underhoof had grown, The Hummingbird fighting its way through the air.

“Like Hunter said, quick as possible.” Steel pulled his head back, attention moving to Hunter once more. “So every time Nova’s horn was itching …”

“We were right next to, or in, or however it works, one of those tethers.” Hunter tapped one hoof against his plates. “And tearing them apart.”

“So we might have been speeding the return of the Crystal Empire just by being here,” Dawn said.

“And accidentally killing ourselves in the process had we been in the wrong place when it happened.” Steel shook his head before looking at Dawn. “How quickly might we have sped it up?”

“I don’t know,” Dawn replied. “Without any knowledge of how much power was in the original spell outside of ‘a lot’ and measurements on how much damage our presence has caused, there’s no real way to—”

“Uh, guys?” Nova’s voice cut through the room like a whip. “I think you need to come look at this.” He was standing on the port side of the ship, helmet pressed up against the glass as he looked out of it, eyes fixing on something to the north. The three of them moved up next to him.

“Sun above,” Dawn said, awe in her voice. Hunter nodded, unable to say anything to agree.

There, to the north, the sky was split by a single, vertical gash, pulsing and throbbing with a garish light. Long, forked tongues of lightning lashed at the air around it, and as Hunter watched, the very world seemed to pulse around it, a bubble that swelled and then faded. It pulsed again, the gash widening and the world around it flexing … and then, almost as suddenly as it had appeared, it was gone, the world rushing back in to fill the gap, and with a start Hunter realized that the scenery around it had moved to fill in the space.

The gap wasn’t in front of anything. It pushed everything aside. It made his head hurt.

“Look,” Dawn said, pointing out the window in another direction. “There’s another one.” Pulsing light filled the air off to the northeast, a second gash, this one further away, shuddering against reality. “And another.”

“Team,” Steel said, his voice low but carrying enough presence and weight to it to draw every eye to him. “New orders. Get set to deploy. Now.” His voice was rising in volume. “Gear up, get the equipment ready to drop, use the bathroom, grab a bite, whatever it takes. But you have minutes. Move!”

Nova and Dawn both broke, and Hunter spared Steel a quick nod as yet another flash lit the horizon, purple light backed by thunder. As he turned and bolted for the galley, he overheard Steel mutter one last thing under his breath.

“We’re about to be very busy.”

Chapter 10

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Saddlebag check. Sabra’s hooves flew as he opened the top, double-checking the contents. Food rations, enough for three days. They tasted horrid, like something that had been left out to dry in the sun for days even with the honey that was supposed to make them sweeter, but it was better than simply starving. It was a shame they couldn’t simply take granola bars, which tasted much better in his opinion, but weren’t nearly as energy efficient.

Flares and glow sticks. Plus a beacon if I become lost. The saddlebags were well-organized, the interior divided into small pockets and compartments. Medical kit. Scarf. Cleaning supplies and hygiene. Strength mod. That one was in one of the few pockets that could be accessed from both the inside and outside of the saddlebags.

Satisfied that his bags were ready, he slung them over his back, cinching them down against his armor and locking the clasps. Then he moved to the next item: his snowshoes. Those went into a tight net on the outside of the saddlebags. His Fimbo along his back, the short, metal, collapsible staff slipping between some of the extra straps and staying in place after his hoof left it.

Over that, balanced on his back, was his winter gear. Tent, sleeping bag and a heavy winter coat that he was tempted to put on straight away, but was better on his back until they deployed. Then, with everything else in place, he picked up his helmet and slid it down over his head. As usual, his short mane protested the sudden weight, but reluctantly gave way as the helmet settled, lying flat against the back of his head and neck. There had been talk, and even tests early on, of letting the mane slide through a sort of mesh or even just an opening like the helms the rest of the Guard wore, but Sky had decided that it hurt the overall structure, offering too much of a weak point to be worth the comfort and ease.

So I must suffer a little discomfort in the pursuit of a little more safety. At least it wasn’t as bad for him. Hunter, with his long mane, probably had the toughest time with it out of any of them. His mane had a tendency to bunch up when he wore it and come out around the front half of the neck, though his recent manecut had put a stop to it.

On the other hoof, he thought, clasping the helmet in place and giving his head a small shake to make certain that there was no excess movement or looseness. The mane does bring warmth. Not as welcome during a Canterlot summer, but during a winter, or the cold frozen north where they now were … There are benefits.

He turned away from his bunk, looking out over the rest of the cabin. Captain Song was already fully at the ready, clad in his olive-green crystal armor, poring over several charts of the area. His own winter gear was piled on his back. Nova was behind him, still at his bunk making sure all his own equipment was ready, though barring any changes, he’d be staying with the airship for his part of the mission.

Another flash of light from outside the windows caught Sabra’s attention, and he turned. Another one of the strange tethers had appeared, pulsing like an open wound on the face of the world. There were three of them in view now, though as he watched, one of them vanished, the universe reasserting itself.

It was … unsettling. Merely watching the strange … shapes? Openings? He wasn’t even sure what the proper term could be for them, but watching them left him feeling like something was wrong. A warning perhaps, from some ancient, old part of his mind that sounded the alarm in the face of danger. That spoke of an imminent threat, like a prowling wrathlion.

He turned away, shutting his eyes for a moment and closing out the disturbing image of the world warping and twisting like it was a picture printed on silk cloth. No, not quite silk cloth, he corrected. Silk cloth does not stretch or warp the way this looks. This is like a picture printed on rubber, then bent in ways it was never meant to.

Except that the rubber in question had depth and space to it. And yet it was still bending, flexing, and twisting. A faint shiver ran down his spine, ending with a twitch of his tail.

Imminent danger. He took a deep, slow breath, then trotted over to the table, snapping a salute as Steel looked up at him.

“Reporting as ordered, captain,” he said, dropping his salute as soon as the captain had acknowledged it.

“At ease,” Captain Song replied, eyes already back on the map. “Just wait.”

“Sir.” He eased back, resting his weight evenly across all four hooves.

Across the room, it looked as though Nova was almost ready, geared up in his armor and with his own saddlebags fully stocked. However, he wasn’t slinging them across his back just yet, nor had he put on his helmet. Instead he merely turned and presented himself to the captain with a salute of his own.

“Ready, captain,” Nova said, a purple flash filling the sky behind him. Sabra didn’t miss the way Captain Song’s eyes flicked to the window before going back to Nova.

“Same order,” he said. “Wait.” Nova nodded and sat back on his haunches, looking almost completely at ease. Except that most of his weight was resting in such a way that he could easily leap to his hooves at a moment if needed.

They both waited quietly, even when the pitch of The Hummingbird’s propellers lowered, the aircraft slowing. At least we’re out from under the storms, Sabra thought, glancing out the window as the ship went into another turn. He could count four of the tethers now. And they seem to be lasting longer as well.

Which meant that the return of Crystal Empire couldn’t be far off. Maybe. Or it’s just another sign of things to come, he thought. Like the storms.

But … given what Lieutenant Hunter had said, it didn’t seem very likely.

The Hummingbird completed its turn, the deck beneath them leveling out. A moment later, Sky Bolt trotted out of the cockpit and over to her locker, opening it and plucking her helmet out. She gave him a quick smile as it dropped into place, and then trotted over to stand by his side, flashing a salute at Captain Song.

“Reporting,” she said, her voice bright and spunky, though he could hear a faint, trembling undercurrent in it. “The Hummingbird will hold itself alright and steady here for about twenty, twenty-five minutes.”

“Good. At ease. Dawn and Hunter should be here in a moment.” As if summoned by his words, Hunter appeared at the end of the T-hall, trotting toward them with a quick pace.

“Flare packs are ready, boss,” he said as he entered the room. “Stowed on the starboard side of the hall, right by the entryway. They’re ready to go.”

Captain Song nodded. “Right. Now we wait for Dawn.”

They didn’t have to wait long. Less than a minute had passed before the door to the medbay opened, and Dawn came out, clad head-to-hooves in her own armor. She strode up to the table and gave a quick salute. “Sergeant Major Triage, reporting.”

“Good,” Captain Song said, looking up from his map at last. “We’re all here. I wanted to go over a more detailed deployment. You’re all familiar with the general plan of dividing into two teams. Hunter, Sky Bolt, and Nova will be hunting this ‘shade’ of King Sombra at the Glacier of Woe, and myself, Dawn, and Sabra will secure the Crystal Empire proper.”

“Question,” Nova said, his ears twitching to one side. “Do the teams have names?”

Captain Song frowned as he turned to look at Nova. “Is that important?”

Hunter shifted, holding up a wing. “Actually, boss, he’s got a point. Team names, squad names, talon names … all are kind of a big deal. Plus, when Captain Armor and Princess Cadance arrive, a team name is a lot quicker than running out everypony’s name.” He shrugged. “We’re going to need something. It’ll be easier for explaining the plan, too.”

“Fair point.” Captain Song’s gaze shifted to Nova. “Thank you, private, for bringing that up. Alright then. Sabra, Dawn, and I will be team one. Hunter, Sky Bolt, and Nova will be team two.” Nova and Sky both let out groans.

“Really?”

“Just numbers?”

“You asked.” Captain Song’s expression shifted slightly, almost morphing into a grin. “You don’t like it, don’t let me assign team names next time.”

“Anyway,” he said, his tone growing serious once more. “Currently, we’re here.” His hoof stabbed at the map, connecting with a southerly square. “Right on the edge of the storms. Hopefully, if Hunter and Sky Bolt are both right, that’ll put us out of any danger when this city finally makes its appearance. The moment it does, however, we need to move.”

“Our first step,” he continued, “is to alert the Guard stationed at the end of the northern rail line.” The tip of his hoof moved slightly further southward. “Luckily for us, that happens to only be a few miles away now. They’re stationed there aboard a train, awaiting our signal. When the city appears, our job is to ascend as high as we can while staying below the cloud cover, as quickly as we can. At which point Lieutenant Hunter will deploy the flare packs out the side of The Hummingbird and watch for an answering signal from the Guard.”

“And if we don’t get one?”

“If we don’t get one,” the captain replied, answering Dawn’s question. Something about the way she’d phrased it made it sound to Sabra as if she hadn’t been asking for herself, but for the other members of the team. “Or we don’t see one after all the flare packs are expended, then we move to their position as quickly as possible to confirm they’ve received our message. If not, they’ll get it as soon as we drop out of the sky. If we can’t find them, we assume they saw it, but we didn’t see their response due to weather.”

“What if neither of those is the case?” Sky asked, speaking up, an inquisitive look in her eyes.

“Then we carry with the mission as planned, hope someone figures out what we’re up against, and that the Princess and her husband arrive in time.” There was a dark undertone to the captain’s voice, a sense of finality that spoke of an underlying meaning the captain didn’t wish to bring up.

“In either case, once the Guard have been notified, we are to proceed for the edge of the city with all haste. The city itself may be in chaos, so Bolt and Hunter …” His eyes flicked to the pair of them. “You two will be in the cockpit, finding us a staging ground outside the city. Someplace we can bring The Hummingbird down and unload all our gear and materiel supplies without coming under attack.”

“Wait, under attack?” Sabra’s eyes darted to Sky as she pulled up, wings popping out from her body slightly in surprise. “As in, spells and angry soldiers?”

“Yes.” The captain’s tone was flat as he looked at her. “You are a Guard now, Corporal Bolt. The city, as the Princesses remembered it, was under what was left of the king’s ‘Order of the Red Horn.’ And for them this long-forgotten war may have been mere minutes ago.” His eyes shifted, moving around the table. “Our vessel appearing out of the sky may be a shock to them, but they will respond, and with force. Which is why we want a landing zone on the edge of the city, one that gives us an easy egress point for the supplies we brought, but is far enough away that we can hopefully offload them without any interruptions. But yes, corporal, we may come under attack, and you’re going to have to hold this airship steady when that time comes, until we’ve defended it and the supplies are on the ground where they belong.”

Sky sucked in a breath, hesitation in her eyes. She loves this ship, Sabra thought. But she knows her duty. As if she’d read his thoughts, Sky opened her mouth.

“Understood, boss,” she said with a nod, her chest puffing out slightly beneath her armor. “Hold until we have all the supplies on the ground.” Then, in a lower quieter voice. “I knew I should have put some sort of cargo bay doors on this thing.”

“Don’t worry.” Hunter tapped a hoof against his armor. “If they do come for us, they’ll find out for themselves just how much of a hoofful we are. We’ll keep them off you.”

“Exactly.” Captain Song took control of the briefing once more. “But with that in mind, Sergeant Triage and Specialist Nova will be doing the majority of the heavy lifting, using their magic to get as much of the supplies out at a time as they can.” His eyes slid to both of them, only to get nods in return.

“Once the supplies have been unloaded, team one will secure the area and begin their half of the mission,” he continued. “Which is when team two will part ways.” His attention moved to Hunter. “Lieutenant, you and your team will take The Hummingbird east with all possible speed, toward the Glacier of Woe. According to what the Princesses told me, that’s where Sombra was sealed.”

“Did they name it before or after he was sealed there?” Nova asked. “Because if it was before, given how far it is from the city, they had to be planning that.”

Captain Song shook his head. “I don’t know about the name, but I don’t see the Sisters trying to do that solely because of what the place was called. It’s more likely that they drove him from the city to try and keep casualties to a minimum, and happened to see the final stages of the battle there.”

“The name came afterward,” Dawn said, cutting in once Steel Song had stopped speaking. Her voice was clear and steady. “It’s first recorded use on maps was roughly nine-hundred years ago. Prior to that it was simply one of the many glaciers of the Crystal Mountains.”

“Why the name change?” Hunter asked. Sabra nodded in agreement. “I thought the Princesses were trying to bury records of the place.”

“It was so named,” Dawn said, “because of the strange sounds the ice made. They were described by explorers as ‘the moanings of a doomed soul.’ Those less poetic and more interested in the scientific side of things have been more precise, referring to it as a phenomenon where the shifting of the ice produces periodic but frequent resonant vibrations that sound like, long, distraught moans. For obvious reasons, most scientific teams aren’t very interested in hanging around the place. They describe it as having a ‘creeping aura of fear and doom.’”

“Sounds like something you’d get when you’re walking around a possie that’s holding sealed evil in a can,” Hunter said, tapping his chin with a thoughtful look on his face. Nova, meanwhile, was giving Dawn a knowing look.

“What?” she asked.

“Daring Do books?”

“I can, and I will, schedule you for another complete physical. With only my coldest tools,” Dawn said, her eyes narrowing.

“Just asking,” Nova said, holding up his hooves. His attention shifted back toward the captain. “So that’s where we’ll go to take down this Sombra dude?”

Captain Song shook his head. “No.”

Nova frowned. “I thought you said we’d be heading there.”

“You will be,” Captain Song said. “But you won’t be taking Sombra down. Your job is to delay him. I wasn’t joking when I said you had no chance of defeating him.” Nova’s frown deepened. “But we’ll get to that in a moment. For now, team one.”

Sabra pulled his eyes back to the captain’s. Team one. The city. Our responsibility.

“Team one’s mission is going to be threefold,” Captain Song continued. Somewhere off in the distance another bolt of lightning split the sky, the flash tinged with purple. A distant crack rolled through the airship a few seconds later, the captain waiting for the loud sound to fade before speaking again.

“As far as the Crystal Empire is concerned,” he said, his gaze switching between all members of the team, but focusing, Sabra noticed, on himself and Dawn. “This battle between the Princesses was yesterday. Or a few hours ago, depending on how much slip there was to the stasis.”

“Slip?” Dawn asked.

He nodded. “Near the beginnings and ends of the spell, time starts to come … ‘undone’ was the word Princess Luna used. So they won’t simply snap from the end of that battle over a thousand years ago to today. Anywhere from a few minutes to a day or two may have passed.”

“Regardless, this means that the city is likely to be in a bit of chaos. We have three objectives: The first is to secure the city,. We have to show the citizens that we’re in control. Encourage order, distribute supplies through existing supply chains. That means we need contact with local civic leaders. Even under a despotic king, they’d have to have them or the city would grind to a halt. We establish order, not as conquerors, but as allies. We get local medical facilities and relief systems set-up.”

“While we have a large number of medical supplies aboard,” Dawn said, “we currently don’t have enough to supply an entire city. Will more be arriving?”

Captain Song nodded. “Captain Armor and Princess Cadance will be arriving with an entire train-load of relief supplies to distribute to the Empire. Another reason we need to establish a sense of order and make sure local leaders can be in charge of distribution. But that brings us to our second objective.”

“The Red Horn,” Sabra said. The captain nodded.

“Exactly,” he said. “This ‘Order of the Red Horn.’ Sombra’s remaining forces throughout the city. Not only will we need to work to establish order, we’re going to have to work fast and strike hard to make sure their ‘order’ doesn’t countermand ours. That’s our second objective: Take. Them. Down. Hard.” The captain’s face had shifted, expression growing stony.

Or rather, like metal, Sabra thought, the captain’s name flashing to mind.

“Thankfully, we won’t be facing a full army,” Captain Song continued. “But we will be dealing with enforcers. Secret police. Brutes of unicorns and crystal pony collaborators that are willing to do anything and everything to prepare the city for Sombra’s return. We’ll need to stamp them out, and fast. Which is why we’ll need to make a strong impression with the citizens. We need them to be able to distribute our supplies so that we can focus on Sombra’s leadership and followers, as well as trust the crystal ponies and local authorities to keep any we capture imprisoned if we’re forced to rely on them.”

“I want to note,” he said, and his eyes switched directly to Sabra. “This means that we’re in the real now. Ponies will likely die. And they will be trying to kill us. If you have any reservations about that, now’s the time to let me know.”

“I am ready.” The words were plain, simple, and he nodded. “A wise question, captain. One who wishes to fight must count the cost. I have.”

“Good.” The captain nodded, his face softening slightly. “I’ve heard that quote before. I should have guessed you’d know it. It’s truer than most think.” His attention shifted back to the rest of the table. “Both of those two objectives, taken together, are key to our third objective: getting the city ready for Princess Cadance and Shining Armor’s arrival. Once they arrive with their Guard contingent, we—”

“Hey sorry.” Sky’s voice pulled their attention away as she waved a hoof. “Maybe I missed this in the other briefing, but why are Captain Armor and Princess Cadance coming here?”

“Governance,” Captain Song answered. “Though as I understand it, it’s not intended to be permanent unless the citizens of the Crystal Empire ask for it. Take that as you will. Point being, we’ll need to secure the seat of government so that Cadance can act as a temporary ruler and bring some real stability and coordination to it, as well as some form of protection from King Sombra simply waltzing back in. Apparently between her natural talents and Captain Armor’s skill with shield spells, they’re capable of blocking him off.”

“At that point, provided we’ve done our jobs, Captain Armor and his Guard should be able to keep the peace and hold things until the Elements of Harmony arrive, and we can break away to join team two.”

“To repeat,” he said, throwing his eyes around the table. “Secure the city and make contact with local officials for distribution of supplies. Dismantle any remaining vestiges of King Sombra’s power, from authorities to banners. Leave the local populace with no illusions that we’re here to remove all traces of his rule. And last …” He rapped his hoof against the tabletop for emphasis. “We ready for the arrival of Captain Armor and Princess Cadance and rejoin team two. Understood?”

“Yes sir.” Dawn snapped a quick salute. Sabra followed her actions.

“Understood, captain,” he said, letting a slow breath slide out of his lips after he’d spoken. One advantage to the helmet was that your body language tended to be a bit more “concealed” than normal, at least where the face was concerned. We’re going to liberate an ancient empire locked in time. He would be turning his Fimbo against ponies not in practice, but with full intent of violence.

Victorious warriors win first and then go to war, he thought, the words of the ancient zebra general running through his mind. He took another slow breath, a faint shiver running down through his shoulders. You have trained, and you have prepared. You have faced true battle before.

You will not hesitate when the time arises.

“Okay.” It was Nova speaking. “So what about us, then? If we’re not supposed to defeat this King Sombra …?” He let the question trail off.

“If you could, it would certainly save everyone a lot of trouble,” Captain Song replied. “But the Princesses assured me that it is highly unlikely. Sombra’s a shade now, some sort of soul bound to magic rather than a physical form. Worse, the moment he’s released, his link with the Crystal Empire will be back in full force, which means every minute he’s back, he’ll be getting stronger. And the more afraid of him the crystal ponies are, the more power he’ll gain.”

“So we’re going to keep him from the city, then,” Hunter said, and Steel nodded.

“Exactly. Your mission is to hunt him—”

“I thought you said we couldn’t stop him?” Nova cut in.

“Hunt him and harass him,” Captain Song continued, another purple flash from outside lighting the air behind him. “While he’s weak, you’ll have the upper hoof. You won’t be able to kill him, but you can certainly push him into running away from the direction of the city.”

“But he’s going to get stronger,” Hunter said. Sabra nodded slowly. He hadn’t missed the way Captain Song had worded his orders.

“Yes,” the captain said. “He will. Eventually he’ll reach the point, no matter what you do, that he stops running, where your team is no longer a threat to him. I guess that’s why the Princesses wanted to remind us to have faith in one another. The strongest of us won’t be able to stop him eventually, and we’ll have to rely on one another.”

By strongest he must mean Nova, Sabra thought. He’s the one with the most direct magic on their team. How else would one harm a shade of magic and spirit? Throw snow? A faint shiver ran down his spine. Actually, maybe that would work.

But there were the Princesses’ words about faith. Something tickled at his mind. Why faith? Why not another word? Sky began to speak, and he pulled his focus back.

“So what do we do when we reach that point?” Sky asked.

“You change gears,” Captain Song replied with a nod at Lieutenant Hunter. “The Lieutenant knows how. Draw him away from the city. Distract him.”

“We make ourselves a target,” Hunter said. “He turns the tables, grows to be more powerful than us? We annoy him. Make ourselves so obstinate he can not ignore us. Aggro him until he goes starkers.”

“And if he figures it out?” Nova asked.

Hunter shrugged. “We up the game. Ever seen a small dog taunt a bigger one until the big one loses it?”

Nova nodded. “It doesn’t usually go well for the smaller dog.”

“True,” Hunter said, grinning as he leaned forward. “So let’s be smarter than the dog.” Then he turned back to Captain Song. “So … that it?”

“Not quite.” The Captain, shifted, glancing out the windows toward the distant storm. “At some point you’ll need to come pick us up. Once we’re done in the Crystal Empire, Captain Armor and Princess Cadance will put up a shield around the city that should keep Sombra out. Once you see that barrier, either you or Sky Bolt will need to bring The Hummingbird to pick us up, at which point all of us will work together to try and distract Sombra until the Elements arrive.”

Sabra spoke up, putting a voice to his thoughts. “And then?”

“Then … we stay out of the way.” Silence reigned across the team as they shot glances at one another.

We leave? With this Sombra still threatening an empire?

“I know what you’re thinking,” Captain Song said, his eyes darting to each of them. “Or at least most of you. We’re Dusk Guard, the best of the best. We’re supposed to be the ones called for when things go horribly wrong. But we cannot be the ones to finish this. It’s beyond us. And when that happens, it’s our job to retreat, to get out of the way and let those whose job it is deal with the assignment.” His eyes crawled across the team once more, staring at each of them, and Sabra could see the hard determination in the captain’s eyes as they moved over him. “When our job is to pull out, we will pull out. Understood?”

“Yes sir.” Only Hunter and Dawn had spoken.

“Dusk Guard,” Captain Song said. “This is not up for debate. These are your orders. Do you understand them?”

“Yes sir.” Sabra let his voice join Sky and Nova’s, as well as Hunter and Dawn’s as they echoed their words once more.

“Good,” he said with a nod. “I know it isn’t easy. But if we stay, we’re only going to get in the way of the Elements. Our job is to set things up so they, the Princess, and Captain Armor, can do their jobs.” Another purple flash lit the sky. “We do our part. Liberate the city, make it ready for their arrival, and make sure Sombra doesn’t arrive until after they do.”

Another purple flash, bathing the interior of the airship in violet light that washed over everything. “What’s being asked of us isn’t easy. It’s going to be hard. There’s going to be pain, there’s going to be challenge. There’s going to be cold.” The purple light faded, but not entirely, leaving a pale cast over the side of Captain Song’s armor. “But that’s why they called us. Because we won’t shy away from our duty. Because we will carry out what the Princesses asked of us. Because we are the Dusk Guard.” The purple light flared, growing bright and pulsing with an odd cadence.

“And unless I miss my guess,” the captain said, turning as Sky let out a gasp of surprise. “Our mission is about to begin.”

“Sun above,” Hunter said, his jaw dropping as Sabra turned. “Look at that.”

Outside the port window, facing north, the world was on fire, purple flames stretching from the sky to the snow. Only they weren’t flames. He could see right through them, though at the same time some part of him shouted that he couldn’t, that both were happening at the same time. He could see the sky, the distant Crystal Mountains, but at the same time, his view was blocked by the licking flames. He shut his eyes and then opened them again, hardly aware that like the rest of the team, he’d moved from the table and to the side of the cabin. He put one hoof up against the glass, watching as the purple fire seemed to spread, shift, and then stretch.

Lightning began to arc out of the sky, around and through the flames. Except they weren’t flames anymore. They were gashes, rifts he couldn’t explain and doubted he would ever see again. Vague shapes twisted about inside them, at once formless and with form and depth a sight that even at a distance made him close his eyes for a moment more. The distant cracks of thunder began to blend together as the strikes became more and more frequent, and as he looked out over the plains, the flashes were so bright that when he blinked, they left forked imprints across his eyelids, the rapid cascade too much for his visor.

Stranger still, the lightning was doing something. The forked bolts were striking inside the rifts, flickering out of existence and bending in strange ways as they fell through. And still the rifts, rippling and waving, grew.

“This is it,” Hunter said, his voice barely audible over the constant roar of the lightning. There was a new sound beneath it now, a whistling drone that Sabra could feel through the glass, and then the deck. The rifts swelled again, and one by one their sides began to touch … only to melt into one another in a way that looked flat, like both rifts occupied the same plane even when he could see that they didn’t.

“That looks weird,” Nova said. No one disagreed. More and more of the rifts were coming together now, merging into a shape that was both a half-sphere and a flat half-circle at the same time. Worse, inside the shape—something that didn’t even make sense as it was flat and not—were shapes, displaying the same strange physical substance as the rifts themselves.

“I don’t think we’re going to need to send much of a signal!” Hunter was shouting to make his voice heard over the constant roar of the thunder, and a quick sideways glance showed that those without their helmets had their ears pressed back tightly against their skulls. The light began to surge. “If they miss this—”

Whatever he was about to say was drowned out as a tremendous roar rolled over The Hummingbird, along with a shockwave that made the whole vessel judder under Sabra’s hooves. The sound changed, the drone building alongside something that almost sounded like a tear, but liquid somehow. His visor tinted, the only thing he could make out the bright flash from the north … and then the light faded, the sounds dropping away as well, several seconds later. And sitting on the Crystal Plains …

The Crystal Empire. There was no mistaking it. A tall, spindly tower of what looked like crystal shimmered even under the storm. Long roads stretched in all directions around its base, the paths splitting and branching among buildings like the arms of a snowflake. It was massive, miles across … but all dominated by that central tower, a clear focal point of the city that drew the eyes like the centerpiece of an art collection. The storm didn’t even appear to dare touch it, circling around the city like a wary predator.

“Dusk Guard,” Captain Song said at last, his voice subdued. “The Crystal Empire.” Then he spun, his voice bellowing across the cabin. “So let’s move!”

Chapter 11

View Online

A bright pink beam shot into the sky, ascending upward like a rocket until it burst apart in a spray of prismatic sparks. Right from the end of the rail-line, where the contingent of Royal Guard had been waiting. A reply to The Hummingbird’s flares that they too had seen the arrival of the Crystal Empire, and acknowledged the Dusk Guard moving for it.

“It’s confirmed!” Hunter called, pulling his head back into the interior of the airship and pressing the door shut. The latch locked in with a heavy thunk. “Message received!” The call rolled on ahead of him, relayed as he gathered up the two remaining flare packs he hadn’t used—one on his back, one in his teeth—and made his way forward. He hadn’t even made it around the bend when The Hummingbird began to tilt, propellers picking up speed. By the time he’d secured the flares in the cargo netting of the main room and made it to the cockpit, the airship was already roaring toward the changed plain.

So that’s the Crystal Empire? he thought, staring at the distant city. Not much of an “empire” when it’s just one big, spread-out city like that. Then again … Anything outside of that capital is long gone. Who knows how much ground it covered. Or maybe they just like really ornate names.

“Hey.” Sky Bolt’s voice shook him from his thoughts, and he turned away from the view of the distant city to look at her. “You ready?”

He nodded. “Been ready. I was getting stuffed just sitting around doing nothing but training.” Sky let out a curt laugh, and he frowned. “Are you?”

Again the same curt laugh. “Sure!” But he shook his head.

“Seriously Bolt,” he said, stepping forward so that he could look her in the eyes. “It’s okay if you aren’t.”

“I …” She bit at her lower lip. “All right, I’m a little nervous.”

“That’s fine.”

“I know,” she said quickly, shaking her mane. “I just didn’t want anyone to know about it.”

“Well, between you and me,” he said, leaning in slightly and lowering his voice. “I wouldn’t let your coltfriend know.” The bright red blush from her cheeks said it all. “At least, not like that. If you do tell him, tell him you’re nervous, but that you’ll be fine.”

“As for me?” he said, pulling back. “I’d rather know up front. You’re in my care, so if you’re nervous, I want to know. That said … You’re a Dusk Guard. We’re going to be fine.”

“Thanks.” Bolt gave him a smile, and he turned to look back out the cockpit glass. The city was closer now, the spire at its center growing as they moved nearer. They weren’t quite close enough for him to pick out any details like a good landing zone, but they were making good time.

“Right, you remember what you’re supposed to do, right?” he asked, peering past a streak of water left by an errant snowflake.

“Of course I do,” Bolt said. “Why do you think I’m nervous? The Hummingbird is a big target.”

Oh, duh. That’s why she’s nervous. Hopefully his surprise wasn’t showing on his face. “Yeah, well, while they’re bound to spot us, they won’t have any way of knowing who or what we are without checking us out. And they’d need wings for that. I guess this ‘Order’ might have some, but …” He flexed a wing. “That’s what I’ll be doing.” He was starting to see some signs of detail now: individual buildings, smaller roads.

And a lot of red flags. Two guesses what those are. He glanced around the cockpit, mind switching processes for a moment before remembering where the binoculars had been.

“Binoculars?” he asked, holding out his hoof. Bolt nodded, pulling the pair of high-powered glasses out of their compartment and passing them to him. They were heavier than they looked, far moreso than the field glasses in his saddlebags. But they’d give him a much more distant picture, even through the glass wall of the cockpit.

“What do you see?” Sky Bolt asked as he peered through them. The distant buildings seemed to leap, the edge of the empire growing close. And blurry. He twisted at the knob on top of the binoculars, watching as the distant picture became first more blurry, and then snapped into clarity with startling precision.

“Give me a minute.” As sharp as the image now was, it was still hard to make out any detail. Even the faint vibrations of the propellers were enough to make it hard to fix the binoculars on one image, to say nothing of his own limbs, or the winds kicking against the aircraft. Or the visor the end of the binoculars were pressed up against.

Still, by panning the binoculars back and forth a few times, he was able to build a gradual picture. “City’s definitely still occupied,” he said, not dropping the glasses. “I’m seeing some citizens. At least I think they’re citizens. Hard to tell at this range.” And when I can’t keep my view steady. Nevertheless, there were definitely ponies of some kind poking their heads out of crystal-like structures, wandering around in what he assumed was awe.

Except for that group, he thought, glasses waving over a closely-knit group of ponies clad in red and black barding. Don’t need much of a guess to figure out who those folks are. Another pass showed the other ponies backing away, ducking back into their homes or running away from the group in red. Enforcers of some kind. His swinging view stumbled over a building much taller than the others, a crystalline tower decked out in red banners, and he managed to hold it steady long enough to make out the logo in the center, an emblem of a red slash—a horn perhaps—on a field of black.

Order of the Red Horn. That must be a local watchtower. The jerking movements of The Hummingbird tugged his view away, but he’d already seen enough. Those other splashes of red across the city are probably the same thing.

He pulled the binoculars away for a moment, blinking as his eyes readjusted, and noticed something new. Smoke. Faint pillars of grey rising into the sky over the city. But what was more, they weren’t moving.

“What?” Bolt asked, apparently catching something in his expression as he held the glasses up once more.

“Smoke,” he said, panning his view until the nearest pillar came into sight, twisting gently up into the sky. Like there isn’t the father of all storm systems spitting the dummy right overhead. “There’s smoke, and it’s not affected by the winds.”

“What?”

“It’s not affected by the winds,” he repeated. “And I’m not seeing much snow either.” How, I have no idea. He panned the glasses back down once more, trying to get a better view of the source of the smoke.

It wasn’t hard to find. A deep gash had been cut across the cityscape, a black, charred line that ended in a collapsed building. There weren’t any open flames that he could make out, but there was a hive of activity that looked organized, if not very quick. Plus more of the red barding, just faintly visible at the distance they were at.

More signs of Sombra’s enforcers, he thought. So they’re either still in control of the city, or working to regain it.

There was also a nearby plaza, he noted, that was filled with a lot of still forms that he suspected were bodies.

Civilian casualties, he thought, his heart giving a soft pang even as his mind catalogued the location for his report to Steel. Which means wounded, too.

A plaza like that would be a good place to set the ship down, he thought as he moved the glasses on. Except that most of them seem to be a good ways into the city. He had counted at least a dozen of the banner-flying towers now, as well as twice again that many that had been reduced to smoking wrecks. More and more signs of battle were presenting themselves the longer he looked, from smoking ruins of buildings, to jagged scars across the crystalline pavement of the roads, to even in one case, a pile of bodies wearing a familiar-looking golden-colored armor.

The Princesses’ Guard, he thought, holding the glasses over the distant blob for a moment, the image too far away for him to make out any further detail. And from the lack of movement … His chest panged again. Over a thousand years out of time, a thousand-plus years fallen.

He made a note of the location. Securing it would be a high priority. They were fellow Guard, even ancient ones, and that meant they wouldn’t be left behind. Or left to have their bodies desecrated.

He spotted several more buildings flying the red banners of Sombra’s order as he moved on. “Still no sign of a good landing zone, but Steel, Dawn, and Sabra are going to have plenty of hard yakka ahead of them. I’m seeing a lot of these banners that can’t be anyone but that order’s.” He moved his view to the center of the city, and the enormous crystal spire that dominated it. Red banners of multiple sizes still flew from its walls and hung from its peak.

He held back a sigh. Okay, so a large chunk of the city is still under the direct control of the order. Albeit loosely. There had been a number of sections where the populace seemed to be wandering around somewhat aimlessly, without any of the red-clad overseers. But none of them are anywhere I’d want to suggest landing an airship. Which means …

He brought his gaze to the edges of the city. We land outside it. Somewhere away from the red banners, away from the … He frowned.

“What?” Sky Bolt asked.

“The edge of the city,” he said, adjusting the binoculars. “It’s got some sort of … weather shield.”

“What? How?” There was a curious, almost excited undertone to Bolt’s question, the tantalizing prospect of something new being dangled in front of her immediately catching her attention.

“Magic, probably,” he said, shrugging. “But I can see it. Not whatever’s doing it, but the effect.” The snows swirled around the edge of the city, but there was a clear line in the air that seemed to be pushing them away. “Explains the lack of wind inside the city.” Something is pushing it away. But if it can push the wind away …

He lowered the glasses. “I don’t know if we can fly through that.” Bolt’s eyes widened. “We could always just try, but … I’m not seeing anywhere inside the city we could make a safe landing and unloading anyway. Not without running the risk of those enforcers showing up and damaging something.”

“So we land outside of it?” Sky Bolt asked.

He nodded. “Without any better idea of what’s keeping that weather out of the city, I’d say that’s our best bet.” He lifted the binoculars again, running them across the outskirts of the Crystal Empire. A wide, open expanse caught his eyes, and he focused on it. “Bingo.”

“What?”

“There,” he said, lowering the binoculars and pointing. “See that road?” It was one of the main “arms” of the snowflake design the city’s roads seemed to be based on, carving a straight line south of the tower and right to the edge of the city.

Sky Bolt nodded. “Yeah. The south one?”

“That’s it.” He held the binoculars up again, focusing on the southernmost tip of the city. “It ends in a wide gate. A bit past that, the road just … stops.” Maybe it got cut off when the city was disconnected. “We’d be setting down in the snow, but I’m not seeing any rough patches in the plains south of it, and the road would make distribution easier. We could drop things right in front of the gate. As long as …” He panned the binoculars over the south end of the city once more, pausing only at the wrecks of both of the nearest towers. “Okay. Both the nearest buildings flying those Order banners seem to be rubble.”

“Rubble?” He glanced over to see Bolt’s eyes wide with shock.

“Yeah, rubble,” he replied. “This was a war, remember? It looks like the Princesses came through here like a tornado. A very guided, specific tornado, but a tornado all the same. There’s a lot of damage down there.”

“Right.” Bolt gave her head a quick shake. “Just still getting used to the idea.” She shook her head once more as he opened his mouth again. “I’m fine.”

He nodded. If she says she’s fine, she’s fine. Besides, she’ll be on the hunting crew with me and Nova anyway. He took a final look through the binoculars, noting the number of figures moving about on the wide street, again without the red barding, and gave a final nod.

“All right,” he said as he passed Bolt the binoculars. “That’s our destination. Right outside that south gate. We can drop the cargo right in front of it.” And, if the citizens don’t run, maybe get them to point us at some local authorities that aren’t working for Sombra.

“ETA?” he asked as he turned for the door.

“Depends on the wind,” Sky replied. “Couple of minutes at most at the speed we’re making. Say three minutes.”

Hunter nodded and stepped into the main room, eyes searching. Steel was standing by the door, a heavy load of winter gear across his back. He noticed Hunter almost immediately. “Lieutenant. You find us a landing site?”

“Yeah. South end of the city. Right on the outskirts of one of the main roads. There’s some kind of barrier over the city keeping the weather out. Didn’t want to risk seeing if we could run an airship through it.”

Steel nodded. “Resistance?”

“It’ll materialize. Counted at least a dozen watchtower-looking places atop buildings flying a red-and-black banner, plus ponies wearing the same colors that looked like they were trying to restore order. Spotted a few combat zones with what are probably dead and wounded too. Including,” he said, lowering his voice. “What were probably Royal Guard.”

If the news shocked Steel he didn’t show it. “What about that central tower?”

“Still flying the same red-and-black colors as the watchtowers.”

“Hmm …” Steel pointed at the table. Paper and pencils had been scattered across it. “Map it. Small scale. Something I can carry. I know you’re not a cartographer. I just want something I can consult.” The Hummingbird shook, the wind outside briefly rising in pitch. “ETA?”

“Three to five minutes, according to Bolt,” Hunter answered as he stepped over to the table.

“Then make the map in two to four minutes,” Steel ordered. “I want you in the sky flying recon before we ever set down.”

“You got it.” There wasn’t much else he could say. The armor around his forehooves made dealing with the pencil tricky, and after a few bad scribbles on a pad of paper, he took his helmet off and clasped the end of the pencil with his lips.

Come on … Come on … The lines weren’t the straightest, but they’d have to do. He sketched out the rough shape of the city, with the southern end facing him. Once that was done, he marked the rough locations of the towers he’d seen across the city, as well as the locations where the damage was the worst and where he’d seen bodies or signs of activity.

Not my best, he thought as he finished labeling his markers and dropped the pencil to the tabletop. But Steel will make sense of it.

A glance out the window as he buckled his helmet back in place told him he hadn’t finished a moment to soon, either. He could see the Crystal Empire through the side windows, which meant that they had to be getting close.

Which means I need to be ready. He tore the sketch free of its pad with one hoof and tucked it into his wing, turning toward the T-hall and passing Sabra as he moved down it.

It wasn’t easy. The passage was no longer open, especially at the far end. The end of the hall was packed in both directions with crates of supplies, all reorganized under Dawn’s system. The mare herself was standing nearby, performing a last minute check of each box, her horn glowing as she walked slowly down the row. Steel was past her, and Hunter called out.

“Boss,” he said, extending a wing and holding the slip of paper out. “Like you asked.”

“Thanks.” Steel took the slip of paper in his hoof and stepped back, his backside pressed right up against the crates as he studied the paper. “Recon.”

Hunter nodded, already moving past the captain and squeezing down the tightly packed hall. Ahead of him, near the door, Sabra was standing atop one of the crates in his armor, checking its contents. They nodded at one another as he passed, but no words were spoken. They both had a job to do.

The entryway itself was still clear, and he took advantage of the space to doublecheck his equipment. Saddlebags: Light and tight. Armor: All secure. He gave himself a final shake, spreading his wings and checking the feathers to make sure none were lying out of position. Snow swirled outside the porthole in the outer door, and on a whim he glanced up.

Huh. What do you know. The lines between the storms looked like they were fading away, the rifts fading as the storm systems at last began to behave normally. Guess the Crystal Empire was responsible for that weather after all.

Good thing they’ve got that barrier or shield or whatever though. Now that the magic keeping those storms apart seems to be gone … He peered up at the sky once more. Some of them will cancel out, but most of them will just merge.

The weather was going to get worse. A lot worse.

Satisfied he was ready to deploy, he sat back on his haunches, a nervous tremble of energy making its way through his back legs. Any moment now. His ears twitched, swiveling as they waited for the telltale signal that would tell him it was time to move.

Any second now … He shifted his hooves. Any second …

There! The propeller pitch changed, drifting down as the deck underneath shifted, a faint weight pressing everything aboard forward. His hooves were on the latch immediately, his mouth opening as he called out over his shoulder. “Door opening!” Wind tore at his wings as the hatch opened, and he tucked them close as he dove out into the open sky.

Only to snap them open a second later, the currents catching and launching him out through the air. He twisted, flipping his body around as he took in his surroundings. The Hummingbird was still powering ahead, but even he could see that the airship had slowed as it neared the swirling dome of snow around the city.

And the city. So close, the details leapt out at him. The buildings themselves were angular, corners sharp and geometric. All of them had a faint shine to them that reminded him of the crystals beneath the Canterlot Mountains, or more closely the sheen of his own armor. Each seemed to follow a uniform color—or at least where there wasn’t damage of some kind.

He swept his wings back, powering through the heavy wings and rushing ahead of The Hummingbird. He could see ponies—crystal ones, presumably—milling about the street, pointing in his direction. Or the airship’s, it didn’t really matter which. They’d been noticed. Not that it would have been hard to, considering they were the only airship for miles.

He pushed slightly harder, green lines glowing faintly on his black undersuit as his magic helped him push through the strong winds. Ahead of him, he could see the barrier that separated the Crystal Empire from the weather outside of it, the snow in the sky almost having piled into a moving wall around it. And beyond it … Grass? He blinked in surprise. Maybe Sabra won’t need that heat mod after all.

He let himself slow as he neared the “wall,” eyeing the barrier even as his wings and magic fought to keep his body level. Well … here goes nothing. He poked his hoof out, past the swirling snowflakes.

It passed through without pause. There was a faint … something … around it that he could feel with his magic, a faint sense that tickled at his innate ability to control weather. The barrier is weather magic of some kind, he thought as he pulled his hoof back. And if it’s weather magic …

He threw himself forward, almost going into a tumble when the winds his strong strokes had been correcting for vanished. Warmth washed over him—not hot, but nowhere near as icy and frozen as the weather outside the city. Huh. The howling of the storm seemed diminished as well, almost nonexistent. He rubbed a hoof at his visor, brushing away a few already-melting stray flakes, and took his first, close-up look at the Crystal Empire.

Beneath him, a broad, shining street that almost appeared to be made of tinted glass stretched down what looked like the full length of the city, or at least all the way to the tower at the center. Buildings made of crystal flanked both sides, along with the small, grassy lawns he’d seen earlier. This close, he could see that the hard, geometric lines he’d noticed at a distance had rounded, softened edges.

But the most important thing he saw were the ponies standing in the street in front of him, staring up at him with wary eyes.

Crystal ponies. Huh. The largest difference he could see off-hoof was that their coats were sort of a dull, pastel color with a fine sheen to it. I can see how they got the name. They don’t look healthy, though. Many of them looked underweight, or like they hadn’t had a good night’s rest in weeks. As he watched, they began to cluster together, bunching up against one another, their eyes still fixed on him. Several of them looked ready to bolt.

Maybe it’s the armor? he wondered. Or it’s just that I’m an outsider. He held up his hooves and let himself drop a few feet. Better make contact. Figure out what’s been going on. Slowly, he lifted his hooves and undid the clasp on his helmet, sliding it up and out of place. The wary looks didn’t vanish, but a few of the crystal ponies seemed to relax a little. His rear hooves touched the ground, and he tucked the helmet into his wing. “Ah …” Crikey, what do I say? “He—”

“Are you with the Princesses?” a mare in the back of the group blurted, only to recoil and cover her mouth with her hoof, eyes wide with fear as if she was about to be struck.

“I …” Come on, Hunter, you’re a Dusk Guard. Act like it! He pulled himself up. “I am. First Lieutenant Hunter of the Dusk Guard of Equestria.” The group of ponies shot sideways glances at one another. A few still looked hesitant at his words, but some of the others appeared hopeful.

“Can you tell us what happened?” A crystal stallion spoke up, taking a step forward, his pastel purple coat glimmering faintly. His accent sounded vaguely like that of the Canterlot nobility, but with its own inflections. And a little of Dawn’s Manehatten accent thrown in for good measure. “Did the Princesses defeat King Sombra? Was that what that light in the sky was?”

“Why could we not leave the city?”

“Where did the rest of the world go?”

“Where are the Princesses?”

He held up his hooves as the crowd began to step forward, questions spilling out of them like water from an unstopped faucet, and they quieted.

“Sombra is … it’s complicated. The Princesses beat him, but not permanently. That’s why my team is here. The sky changing …” He paused. Come on, think of something. “You were cut off, correct? From the outside world?”

“The whole world vanished,” one of the ponies said. “The sky went all purple, and everything felt strange, and then that was all there was.”

Okay, so they were aware during the time they were out of … well, time. But for how long? “How long did it last?”

The crystal ponies glanced at one another. “It wasn’t a full day,” one of them said at last, a mare with a shiny yellow coat. “Not even a half. Just under. The Order came around telling everyone to get back to work, to ignore it, but most of us didn’t know what to do. Then everything came back, and there was the snow outside and …” The mare shook her head. “We do not know what to do. The Order have been telling everypony to stay in their homes or work their shifts, but …” Scattered murmurs rose from the group around her as her voice trailed off, the rest of them speaking up.

“Hold up, hold up.” Hunter held up his hooves once more, and the group stopped, though they were all still looking at him with expectant eyes. And I get to tell them what’s happened. Great. As if they haven’t had enough shocks for the day. “Who’s in charge?” he asked. “Not the Order, but locally. There has to be some kind of local leadership or somepony you all turn to, right?”

“That would be me.” The voice belonged to the stallion that had spoken up earlier. “Unofficially. Sterling Garnet.”

“Right.” How to put this. “I’m afraid I’ve got some bad news for you, Garnet. All of you, really. That brief ‘blip’ you all had? Where the whole outside world went bodgy? That was … a sealing spell.”

“What are you saying?” one of the ponies asked. “Were the Princesses protecting us from Sombra?”

“Ah … sort of?” You’re doing a terrible job at this. “Look, that whole battle you remember? From just a few minutes ago? Between the Princesses and Sombra?” He glanced around at the group, taking in their harried expressions. Just say it. “Yeah … that was about thirteen-hundred years ago.”

“I … What?” Garnet’s stunned exclamation was echoed by several others throughout the group. “I do not understand what you mean!”

“Ah crikey.” Hunter began to bring a hoof up to rub at the back of his head, but caught it before it had made it too far from the ground. Gotta look confident. They have to believe this. “Look, I’m not trying to make a beat up about this, and I don’t want you all to crack a—to lose it.” Several of the crystal ponies in the back were edging away, he noticed. Doing a great job so far here, Hunter. “But you have to understand this. The battle between the Princesses and King Sombra? That happened over a thousand years ago, plus a few centuries.” Some of the crystal ponies were giving him wide-eyed looks, ears folded back. Like I’ve sprouted a horn or something. Probably a red one. “You’ve been gone a very, very long time.”

“No …” It was one of the mares in the back of the group, backing away. “It cannot be. You are … You speak lies!”

“I’m sorry,” he said, offering a shrug. “But I’m really not.”

“But why?” Garnet asked, splitting his focus between Hunter and the rest of the group. “If what you are speaking of is true—and I will admit the changing of the sky and the sudden season beyond the edge of the city would seem to—” His voice hitched for a moment. “—support it, why?”

“To save you.” It was the best answer he had. “It wasn’t intentional—”

“It was an accident?”

“No! Sort of.” He held up a hoof. “Look, all I know is that during the battle with King Sombra, Princess Celestia and Princess Luna tried to defeat him once and for all by trapping him in a pocket dimension or something until he starved. Getting him out of the fight and freeing all of you. Except he used his connection to the city or whatever to pass the spell on or something?” He could see blank-faced looks on the crowd in front of him, along with plenty of wary eyes. You really are bad at this. “Point being Sombra got your whole city sealed as well.” This is getting out of hoof. Reel it back in.

“Point being,” he said, his voice temporarily growing so loud that some of the crystal ponies flinched. “I’m sorry, but you’ve all be gone a really, really long time. For you it was hours, I guess, but for the rest of the world, it was centuries. Centuries during which the Princesses had time to prepare for your return.”

He took a step to the side, waving his hoof at the edge of the city and the large, triangular shape of The Hummingbird. “That airship belongs to the team I’m part of. We’re here to operate as a spearhead to a rescue and relief effort. Those boxes?” He pointed to the large crates floating out of The Hummingbird’s side, wrapped in yellow and orange magic. “They’re full of medical supplies, food rations, and materiels. You’re a local leader, Garnet?” he asked, looking right at the crystal stallion. The ponies around him still looked shocked; some were even stepping away, but it couldn’t be helped. “Then we’re going to need your help. For us, this battle was a thousand-plus years ago. For you, it was moments ago. We have medical supplies, a skilled doctor, and a whole train worth of Royal Guard should be here within a day or so. We need connections with locals like yourself to know where these supplies need to go, and who to give them to.”

“But the Order—” one of the crystal ponies began, their voice quivering with fear.

“We’ll deal with the Order,” Hunter said, cutting her off. “We’re the Dusk Guard, ma’am. But if you can spread the word—”

“That what!?” someone in the back shouted. “That we were lost to time?” The stallion turned and ran, a panicked look in his eyes even as Garnet called after him. His departure set off several other crystal ponies, several of which ran with cries of … terror, or maybe panic, Hunter wasn’t sure. Several of them ran into homes, doors slamming shut behind them, while a few others ducked between buildings or down offshoot streets, the sounds of their frantic galloping echoing after them.

Crud. Maybe I should have left this to Steel. Or Dawn. If those ponies kick off an even bigger panic …

It was too late to do anything about it now. He turned his eyes back to the remaining crystal ponies. About two-thirds of them had stayed, still wary. Garnet was one of them.

“Lieutenant …” he said, his voice sounding strained. “It is not that I do not … Well …”

“It’s outrageous, I know,” Hunter said. “I’d have trouble believing it myself if it hadn’t come from the Princesses.”

“But it … is true?” He could hear the hope in Garnet’s voice, the faint cry holding out that what he’d been told was in some way, not what had happened. That thirteen-hundred years hadn’t just passed in the blink of an eye, that the strange distortion they’d experienced hadn’t been the sign of the world they’d known being ripped away from them, but some other event.

“I hate to say it,” Hunter said, his ears folding back. “But it’s pure dinkum. The truth. I don’t know all the details, and I’m sorry you had to hear it from me. I can’t imagine what you must all be feeling like right about now, but whatever it is, my team needs your help. We can’t distribute supplies without the ponies of the empire. We’ve seen the smoke: We know there were fires. This whole city just came out of a battle. I know everything I’ve just said has to sound like a load of goss that’s totally sus. Suspicious gossip?” he added when he saw the confused looks. “But it’s true. And if you can spread the word, or point our team where those supplies need to go, or better yet help us get them to a proper distribution chain, or get one set up, that’ll free our hooves up to stamp out what’s left of the Order.” He took a deep breath. “I know it’s a lot to ask, but—”

“I will do it.” Garnet’s sure voice cut him off, and he looked at the stallion, first in surprise, then with a smile as the crystal pony pulled himself up. Was it his imagination, or did he look just a little brighter? “Sombra was not in power so long that all of us have forgotten how to stand on our own hooves. I can talk with the neighboring streets. Spread the word. Tell ponies to stay in their homes, or come to places for medical aid.”

“That’d be … perfect, actually,” Hunter said, grinning. He pointed back at The Hummingbird. “You’ll want to speak with my superior, Captain Steel Song. Wearing green armor. Built like a wall. You can’t miss him. He and our medical officer will be able to better coordinate with you.” He waited until Garnet had nodded before continuing. “I’ll let him know who you are, you can speak with him as soon as you’re ready. I need to make a recon flight and check out the surrounding area. Sorry to be the bearer of such bad news.”

“It …” Garnet took a deep breath. “We will manage. I do not believe even I fully understand yet, or even want to, but even if the words you have spoken are not true … this city is wounded. If you bring supplies, and word from our would-be saviors, then we will do what we can. There will be time for healing.”

“It’s our job to give you that time,” Hunter said, sliding the helmet down over his head. “I’ll let the captain know you’re coming. But before I do, is there a nearby center, plaza, or location I should be checking that might serve as a rally point? Somewhere we can bring all the supplies to instead of, you know, out in the snow?”

“There was the old social hall several blocks over,” one of the crystal ponies said, her ears folding back even as she spoke to him. “But the Order turned it into one of their offices. The Princesses hit it when they went past. I do not believe any of us have had the nerve to go see what became of it.”

Order stations. Definitely worth checking out. What’s the bet that there’s a prison cell under each one? Sombra ruled this place through fear and terror to get what he wanted. His muscles tightened. “That’s good to know, I can give it a look. Anything—”

“Alone?” A different crystal stallion had spoken up, voice shaking with fear. “Against an Order guardhouse?”

“And I’m a Dusk Guard,” he countered. “You don’t know what that is yet, but believe me, you’re about to. And so is the Order.” He turned his eyes back to Garnet. “Anything else close by I should check out? Those towers, maybe?”

“The Order Watchtowers? There are not any near here.”

“What about collaborators? Are there any?”

At that, Garnet’s face soured. “There are,” he said. “Some serve in hidden ways, from the dark, others openly. Those that are open wear the king’s emblem, work with his Order, and fly his flag from their homes. Those in secret skulk around in the dark.”

Hunter nodded. Watch your back, in other words. Gotcha. “Do you have any idea of ponies that might be secret collaborators?” The last thing we want to do is start a wild hunt, but at the same time …

Thankfully, Garnet shook his head. “No. Only that those who speak out in what they believe to be confidence find themselves punished not long after. Sometimes one is revealed, but … The Order does their best to keep them hidden.”

“Right.” He nodded. “Well, I’ll check out the wreck of that Order office. What about central meeting areas?”

“Taken by the Order,” Garnet said, and Hunter nodded again.

Right. That makes sense. Central locations. Public ones. Which likely meant that there were hidden ones as well. Small, subversive locations for the hidden informants to operate out of. We’ll have to watch our backs. Or rather, Steel and his team would. And I will while I’m flying recon. Which I really need to do.

“Okay,” he said. “Thank you for your help. Again, talk to Captain Song. Green armor. I’ll let him know you’re looking for him.” And hope that you’re not one of those secret collaborators you hinted at, or this mission will be off to a great start.

“I can round up a few volunteers to help with supplies,” Garnet said.

“I can let the nearby streets know,” a second pony added. Hopefully they were tactful about the “thirteen hundred years” bit. Or didn’t mention it.

“I have a wagon,” another crystal pony cut in. “In my shed. We can use that.” The rest began talking among one another, and again Hunter had the strange impression that some of their coats were growing a little brighter.

“Good. Talk to the captain, he’ll appreciate the help. I’ll let him know you’re coming.” He snapped his wings down, launching himself into the air before he could be further roped into the crystal ponies’ hopeful conversation, and headed back toward the barrier.

He hit it at a slightly higher speed this time, green lines in his suit flaring as his pegasus magic fought the sudden shift in weather across the barrier. The howl of the wind leapt into his ears, along with the faint, droning buzz of The Hummingbird’s propellers. Distant shouts rolled across the wind as well, voices he recognized belonging to both Steel and Dawn as they unloaded the cargo from the airship. There was already a decently sized pile of crates on the ground, and as he neared another floated into place, wrapped in a yellow and orange glow.

“Hunter,” Steel said, turning to face him as he came in for a landing. “We’re almost unloaded here. What’s the report?”

“Contact made with the locals. Gathered some information you’d want to hear.” He pointed back at the edge of the city. “First of all, that barrier is permeable. You can pass through it. The Order still seems to have control over the city, or at least what’s left of it. All the central locations are controlled by them as well. Or were.”

“How long has it been for the locals?” Steel asked.

A grimace slipped across his face before he could stop himself, not that Steel would see half of it with his helmet in place. “Less than half a day. I couldn’t get a more specific length out of them. More than a few hours, though.”

“Sun above.”

“Worse, there are collaborators. Public, and secret.”

“So this contact you made …”

“Sterling Garnet. Could be, yeah. Claims to be sort of a local community leader. Said he’d help with getting the word out and giving you ideas about supplies. One pony said they’d bring a wagon.”

“One of them could be a collaborator,” Steel said, and Hunter nodded.

“The thought occurred to me. But with us, it’s buckleys if they try anything.”

Steel nodded. “It would be. What about the situation. Do they know?”

“I told them how long they’d been gone. That’s it.”

“How’d they—Easy with that!—take it?”

He shook his head. “Shock and denial, mostly.”

“Dawn’s going to have her work cut out for her. Anything else?”

“I’m going to check out the surrounding area, do a proper recon. Check out one of the Order’s offices that’s supposed to be nearby. The Princesses apparently hit it on their way in.”

“Right. We’ll be unloaded in a few minutes. Make it fast.”

He nodded, snapped a quick salute, and with a flick of his wings was airborne again, heading for the edge of the city. Again he passed through the barrier, the howling winds cutting out so abruptly it was like someone had flipped a switch. He pushed down, ascending higher into the air and over the rooftops, giving him a wider view of the surrounding blocks. Below him, he could see the group of crystal ponies he’d talked to just moments earlier wheeling a four-wheeled cart out of a shed behind one of the houses. There were fewer than he remembered, and a glance at the nearby houses showed a few of them heading inside, either to take shelter until things blew over, retrieve something, or maybe just to hide and come to terms with what he’d told them.

He climbed higher, wings beating in strong, wide strokes as the houses shrank beneath him. The neighboring streets showed signs of activity as well, crystal ponies poking their heads out of doorways and looking around. He spotted several groups to both the east and the west that appeared to have noticed the airship. There were no hooves pointed in his direction, however. At least, not currently. Even once he’d pulled out his field glasses to give himself a better look, none seemed to have noticed him, high up as he was.

All right … fairly standard layout, aside from the snowflake design. His eyes locked on a pile of what looked like scorched, crystalline rubble that had once been a street corner at least four or five blocks to the west. Black streaks across the ground from multiple directions centering on the charred superstructure made it clear what it had probably once been. One of the Order offices. There was a crowd of ponies sifting through the rubble, some with magic, some with hooves. The ones with magic, he noted, were wearing red.

Five of them, he counted. Though only four are unicorns. The last was a crystal pony, who seemed to be shouting orders at the rest of the group sifting through the rubble. Looking for survivors. One of the unicorns took a step forward, a whip lashing out and striking at one of the ponies moving rubble, and as far away as he was, he imagined he could hear the cry. He brought his hooves up, ready to dive down … and then caught himself.

It’s happening all over the city. And if you don’t report it, it won’t stop. He tensed a muscle, then pulled his gaze away to look over the rest of the nearby area.

Okay, aside from the Order station, there are several groups of crystal ponies looking around in confusion. That section of homes has collapsed; they’ll likely need medical attention. That home has Order flags on it, and that pony out front seems to be giving orders to the rest of them. And that … looks like a scouting party. The last was coming from the center of the city, straight down the road toward the city’s edge, though they were well off from it. At least … three ponies?

A cry caught his ears, and he snapped his focus back to the Order station. The unicorn with the whip was at it again, cracking it across the withers of one of the ponies so hard that they had fallen, their cries no longer imagined, but echoing faintly through the air.

His decision was made in an instant. He snapped his wings back, throwing himself into a sharp, downward dive. He took advantage of the near freefall to stow his binoculars, and then he brought his wings out, leveling out in a fast glide that took advantage of his downward rush. Air whistled past the edges of his armor as he picked up speed, throwing in a wingbeat every so often as he shot through the air. The cries had died out, but the boiling in his blood hadn’t.

Five versus one. He thought back on the training he and the rest of the team had been through. Almost a fair fight.

Almost. And he had no plans to make it fair.

He was just above the rooftops now, streaking over them at high speed, wings half-tucked against his sides. Ahead of him, he could see a faint haze of smoke twisting up from an open intersection, rising from a noticeable gap in the city skyline. This is it!

He shot out over the final rooftop, his rear hooves almost scraping over the crystalline surface, and spotted his target.

The unicorn was standing on the far side of the street, a whip handle gripped in their blue magic. He was clad in red-and-black barding of some kind, with a simple, metal chestplate. Across from them, splayed across the rubble, was a crystal stallion, his back and legs bloody. As was the tip of the whip the unicorn had been using to lash him.

He never knew what hit him. Hunter snapped his wings back a final time, descending like a bird of prey at the back of the unicorn’s head, riding the Order member into the ground and slamming him headfirst into the crystal paving stones. The unicorn’s helmet buckled and bounced away, torn free by the impact even as a wet smack echoed across the intersection mixed with the faint crunch of the stallion losing most of their teeth.

He didn’t stop. Before the other three unicorns could react he was flipping away, shoving his body up and sideways with his wings splayed behind him in a twisting flip that he’d learned from Sabra. The closest of the Order guards turned to see what had happened, just in time for the first of Hunter’s rear hooves to catch him right across the muzzle, shattering his nose and dragging his head forward and down.

Just in time for the second hoof to catch him in the back of the head, bringing him face-first into the paving stones, his face hitting so hard it would have bounced if not for Hunter’s weight bearing down behind it. Motion completed, his wings splayed and forehooves up in an offensive Tempest stance, he picked his next target.

“Alarm!”

Hunter threw himself forward as one of the remaining order members shouted. The unicorn in front of him tried to react, her horn lighting up with an azure glow, but by the time a shield began to form in front of her to block his charge, he was already halfway through it. For just the briefest moment he saw surprise in her eyes, then his armored hoof slammed into her head hard enough to dent her helm, snapping her head back, the glow of her horn winking out as she hit the ground.

He spun again, just in time to catch the collaborator’s charge, blocking a wild swing with one hoof. The motion was clearly practiced, but sloppy, more likely executed on defenseless civilians than somepony with actual combat experience. He slapped the blow aside, then countered with two of his own, staggering the crystal pony back.

“Alarm!”

He spun, jumping back and feeling his magic course through him as he threw a quick burst of wind at the other Order member, the sudden whirlwind shutting them up and sending them stumbling. It was a sloppy use of pegasus magic, but in a pinch, it would work as long as he didn’t use too many more. Capitalizing on the distraction, he used his wings to dart forward, tackling the unicorn and slamming him into the ground. He heard the faint “Ooof!” of the breath being knocked from the unicorn’s lungs, and satisfied that he was down for the moment, Hunter spun back to the crystal collaborator.

He was falling back, shouting something to the nearby ponies to help him. His shouts turned to terrified screams when a moment later Hunter’s hoof cracked across his chin, knocking him to the ground and into silence.

A bolt of hot, bright azure energy skipped off of his shoulder and into one of the nearby homes, and he turned to see the unicorn mare from before standing wide eyed, her horn aglow. He shoved himself up, another blast shooting by beneath him as he powered into the air. He tucked one wing against his side, throwing himself into a tight spiral that sent her third and final shot wide before his hind legs slammed into her body, knocking her to the ground. He felt something in her side give way with a faint pop, and she screamed as she hit the ground. A short, tight blow later, and she slumped back, unconscious or at least dazed for some time.

Another bolt of energy shot past his head, and he turned to see the last unicorn, the one he’d tackled to the ground, looking at him with wide eyes. The unicorn’s horn glowed, and with a pop, he vanished.

Long-range or short range? There was only one way to find out. He reached inside himself, summoning forth his magic and sending a wave of energy out in all directions from his mod. The world became bright and hazy with magic once more, and he twisted his head around, looking for any sign of the unicorn.

There. There was a blurry, bright figure trailing magic as they ran from a bright point at the peak of their head, behind one of the nearby buildings. Hunter rose into the air, wings beating steadily as he took off in pursuit.

A moment later he was back, the unconscious unicorn held in his front hooves, and he dropped him to the ground beside his fellows before taking a look around the intersection. Expressions of horror and shock greeted him. Not that I blame them. Part of him wanted to just walk into a back alley and hurl up his lunch at the amount of violence he’d just inflicted … but a single glance at the wounded crystal stallion, red tracks across their back and hind legs, shoved the nausea away. The stallion was panting with pain, but still aware, and Hunter trotted over to him.

“Are you familiar with the south gate?” he asked, pointing in the direction the airship had landed. The stallion nodded. “There are medical supplies there, along with personnel to treat your injuries.” He glanced around at the rest of the crowd, raising his voice. “If you’ll take these scum—” He paused to tap one of the unconscious Order members with a hoof. “—with you, the Guard there will handle them.”

“Is that … who you’re with?” one of the ponies asked, speaking up. “The Guard? From Equestria?”

He nodded, pulling himself up straight. “We are. We are the Dusk Guard of Equestria.”

“And we are taking back this city.”

END OF PART ONE

Chapter 12

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There they are, Sabra thought, eyes narrowing behind his helmet as he spotted the telltale red-and-black armor worn by the Order scouts. Just as I thought. They are unused to sneaking around their own city. At least, the two behind the one in the lead were. The one in the lead seemed to have some idea of how to stay out of sight, even clad in his fairly obvious armor. But the two following his lead were simply doing that: Following without the barest idea of why they were ducking behind the sides of buildings or moving along an alley. And while the stallion in front was at least passingly quiet, the pair behind him didn’t have the slightest idea how to move quietly. From the way they moved, it was all too clear that they were used to being in charge, to moving with a threatening swagger rather than a smooth silence. Without his eyes, he could have pinpointed all three of their positions simply based on sound.

He watched as the trio “snuck” forward, moving through a back alley, hooves clopping against the crystal stone that made up much of the ground. If this is to be our foe, then may we hope that all are as obvious as they. Sabra shifted slightly, letting his body move to one side as the trio passed beneath him. Unfortunately, the thought was simply that: A thought. Lieutenant Hunter’s words had already confirmed that there were other threats to deal with that wouldn’t be quite so visible, collaborators and secret enforcers who were likely to be far more skilled at keeping themselves hidden. No doubt one of the crystal citizens their team had met with had already ducked off to report the team’s existence and numbers. In fact, Captain Song had given them orders to act as though it had already happened. “Better to expect it than to be surprised by it,” he’d stated. The trio passing beneath him now simply hadn’t been in the chain of information, or had set out before such information had come in.

And now, they won’t be coming back, Sabra thought, reaching back over his shoulder and drawing his Fimbo from its place across his back. The trio was still moving down the alley, their eyes—especially those of the first—glancing in every possible direction.

Except up.

They are used to dealing with civilians, Sabra thought as he eased himself away from the steep, slick crystal roof. Not soldiers. The thought almost made him pause. Soldier. Rare is the occasion that I have thought of myself as such. The image that came to mind was of the warriors of his homeland, agile and swift or stalwart and immoveable. But he was like neither of those, in weapons, nor in ability.

I am a Dusk Guard, he thought, and dropped. The sudden clop of his hooves striking the paving stones caught the trio by surprise, and they spun, one letting out a cry of surprise even as their horns began to glow.

“Surren—” It was as far as he got before two of them lashed out, magic streaking down the alley toward him. He leaped, the faint swelling of loyalty in his heart barely a thought and more a reflex as he took advantage of his strength mod to fling his body upwards, well past what any reasonable foe would have expected of him. He twisted in the air, bringing his forehooves around and letting his Fimbo fly free even as his rear hooves kicked against the side of one of the homes around them.

His Fimbo made contact first, bouncing off of the crystal stone with a loud ping and rising upward to slam into the chin of the rearmost unicorn, snapping his head back. The grey glow around his horn fizzled out. A second later Sabra’s own forehoof made contact, a third spell from the lead unicorn blowing past him as he brought the full weight of his body down in a single blow to the lone mare of the trio, striking her helm just to the side of the horn. The metal buckled inward, followed by her legs, and she hit the ground hard enough to bounce.

He dropped with her, letting his body flow with his momentum, his hooves spread wide to absorb and redirect his trajectory toward the wall of the alley even as another spell, this one a tight, thin beam that he could feel the heat from even through his armor, scorched by overhead. He continued forward, ears twisting as he tracked his foe, kicking himself up the alley wall and flipping backwards over the beam as it scythed after him. He landed on one rear hoof, the other already lashing out to connect with his Fimbo as it rolled across the ground. The impact sent the long, metal staff flying through the air crosswise, and it collided with the remaining unicorn’s chest, eliciting a slight oof. The stallion’s spell stuttered, beam winking out.

Sabra’s hooves swept the stallion’s out from under him a moment later, and before he could even think of rising, he found the end of Sabra’s Fimbo held against his throat.

“Don’t. Move,” Sabra said, making each word as clear as possible. “I do not wish to cause you further harm, but I will if you resist.” He leaned on the tip of the Fimbo as the unicorn’s horn began to spark, and with a faint choking sound the magic winked out. The stallion’s eyes, however, spoke of a barely contained fury.

“Nice job, spec.” The words came from the end of the alley, and a moment later Captain Song appeared around the corner, his tread surprisingly quiet for such a large pony. “They play for keeps, don’t they?” Sabra followed the path of his eyes to the long, burned scorch marks the lead unicorn’s spell had carved across the alleyway.

“You are invaders,” the unicorn said. “We will drive yo—” His words cut off in a gurgle as Sabra put a slight amount of pressure against the staff.

“Yeah, I don’t think so,” Steel said, coming to a stop next to the unicorn. And, Sabra noted, likely purposefully making sure his heavy metal gauntlets were right next to the stallion’s eyes. “But I am curious why you think so. Congratulations scout, you’re going to deliver some intel.” He reached back around to his saddlebags, pulling out a small ring. “Just not to who you thought you were.” The unicorn’s eyes widened as the ring came into view.

“Filthy mud ponies!” he spat, apparently uncaring for the Fimbo at his throat. “You would take away that which you so desperately crave to claim from us?”

“Okay, so you’re a speciest,” Captain Song said, his voice still calm and level. “For the record, I don’t need your magic.” The ground trembled slightly, blue lines glowing across Steel’s undersuit. “Got plenty of my own. But if you want to keep yours, you really only have one choice.” He waggled the horn-ring back and forth.

“Never.” The unicorn tried to spit in the captain’s face but fell short, spittle falling across the paving stones. “My magic is my right. You cannot take away that which makes me a true servant of King Sombra.”

“Right …” Captain Song said, his voice sounding thoroughly unimpressed. The horn-ring sparkled in the light as he returned it to his saddlebags. “Well then, since we can’t count on you not knowing something that might let you escape …” He turned his eyes to Sabra. “Spec, break his horn off.”

The unicorn’s eyes went wide in a panic, horn already starting to glow. Then Sabra brought his hoof down atop it, twisting the unicorn’s head to one side. He felt the stiff keratin flex under the impact as the magic winked out, but it didn’t crack.

Yet.

“Your call,” Captain Song said. “Horn lock, or no horn. We’re not playing around.”

“Horn lock,” the stallion wheezed, tears leaking from his eyes. Sabra waited, keeping his hoof locked in place, the stallion’s head twisted at an awkward angle, letting up the pressure only when the captain was able to slide the horn lock into place. The unicorn let out a quiet whimper as it tightened into the base of his horn.

“Good.” Captain Song rose, gesturing toward the rest of the unconscious party. “Spec, why don’t you guide him back to our impromptu holding area while I take care of these two.” The unicorn’s eyes widened as the captain slid two more horn rings out of his saddlebags.

“You’re … You’re all fools,” he said as Captain Song locked the rings in place. “Our great king—”

“Is being taken care of,” the captain said, lifting both the unconscious Order members onto his back. “The sergeant is going to want to take a look at these two. Looks like you hit them pretty hard, Sabra.”

He didn’t miss the way the Order unicorn’s eyes widened at his name, even as he prodded with his staff for the stallion to stand. “When faced with a foe that would take your life, it is better to show mercy, but not so much that you lose your own.”

“Good call.” The pair of unconscious Order guards on his back, the captain motioned for them to move out of the alley and onto the main street. “Now, let’s get back to Dawn.”

“This is all for nothing,” the unicorn said as Sabra prodded him to move forward. “When King Sombra returns—”

“King Sombra lost.” The captain’s words were laced with steel, like his namesake. “In case you missed it, you’ve been gone over a thousand years.” Sabra didn’t miss the way the Order guard’s hooves stumbled. “Your ‘king’s’ final act was to seal the city away in revenge. Now he’s gone, and we’re here to clean things up.”

“Argent was right,” the stallion muttered as they walked out of the alley and onto the main street. Several hundred feet to the south, a cluster of crystal ponies were gathered around Dawn as she coached them through loading the medical supplies aboard wagons they’d procured. “Equestrians.” The words came out like a sneer.

“Who’s Argent?” Captain Song asked.

The Order member scowled, the expression barely visible from behind, but written in the slump of his shoulders. “I do not speak with Equestrians. Torture me as you may.”

Sabra raised one eyebrow and glanced in the captain’s direction. Has Equestria ever used torture? He knew the Plainslands had, though the act was distasteful. It had been viewed as a grave practice, with careful obligations and considerations to be made, even during the dark periods following the Breaking when the jackals had fought to the very last. The mental cost of torturing another sapient being was high.

But we learn to kill, an act that is also distasteful, but sometimes necessary. He shook his head. There had been entire schools of thought at the monastery dedicated to the complexities of war and civil defense, with debates that could last hours. At the time, he’d never believed that he would find himself in a situation where such debates would take on startling reality, but now they had.

“We don’t torture,” the captain said. “Not the way you would.”

“I will not speak,” the unicorn said. “I—”

“What you’ll do,” Captain Song replied, cutting him off as they neared the group. “Is enjoy a nice, magic-resistant cell to rest in while we dismantle the rest of your gang. How cooperative you are with our mission determines what—if any—leniency you’ll receive once things here have settled enough for you to get a trial.”

“Burn in the pits of Tartarus, mud pony.”

The captain shrugged, his limp cargo shifting with the movement. “Guess that’s that then.”

“You cannot lock me up,” the stallion said, his voice growing louder as they neared the crystal ponies. “Your airship has already fled! I am a member of the Order! The true king will prevail!” A few of the crystal ponies seemed to shiver at his words, their eyes turning toward the unicorn and, unless it was Sabra’s imagination, their coats growing a bit dimmer. “These interlopers will fail!” the unicorn continued. “And I will remember all of you when the time for punishment comes. Those who believe in their lies and aid the enemies of the king will be—”

Something small and wrapped in an orange glow darted out from the crowd, striking the unicorn right in the neck and cutting off his voice with a cry. Almost as quickly as it had appeared, it was gone, only a faint glimmer of orange light suggesting it had ever been there.

“What have you done!?” the unicorn cried, stepping back and rearing up. Then he stumbled to one side as if the ground had pitched beneath him. “What … have … you …” His words were slurred, drawn out, and then as they all watched, he fell to his side, unconscious.

“That’s enough of that,” Dawn said, stepping out of the crowd, an empty syringe held next to her. Her eyes flicked to the pair on Captain Song’s back. “And two more to treat, I see.”

“Low priority.” The captain shifted, dumping the bodies on the ground without any ceremony. A helmet bounced free of one of them, rolling across the ground. Crystal ponies scattered around it as if simply touching it could burn them.

Save one. The local leader that Lieutenant Hunter had spoken to, Garnet, stopped the rolling helmet beneath his hoof. Then, with a glare in the direction of the drugged unicorn, he kicked it, sending it skittering back across the ground toward the downed Order member.

An orange glow seized it halfway. “There will be none of that,” Dawn said, her sharp tone cracking across the street like a whip. Several of the crystal ponies flinched. “We’re here to liberate, not raise a mob.” Her eyes moved to Garnet. “A leader of his people should know better.”

Garnet nodded, the anger in his face vanishing. “I … apologize, Lady Triage. You are correct.” His eyes flitted to several other crystal ponies in the crowd that had also been looking on with incensed expressions. “We are not the Order.” A few of the unhappy faces in the crowd nodded.

“Sergeant,” Captain Song said. “If you’d take charge of these three and either keep them drugged or otherwise restrained until we have somewhere to put them, we’ll see about finding that place.”

Dawn nodded. “We have plenty of rope, and a number of additional horn-locks. I’ll see to it that they’re kept somewhere I or one of the crystal ponies can keep an eye on them.” She didn’t say the word “trustworthy,” but it was implicit anyway. Hunter’s warning had been heeded.

“Good,” Captain Song replied. “Sabra, with me.” The large stallion turned toward Garnet. “You’re back, so I’m guessing you were able to find a map for me?”

Garnet nodded, another crystal pony stepping up beside him, a large crystal plaque on his back. “I did,” he said, taking the plaque in his teeth and setting it on the ground. A large, geometric set of lines was spread across it, and with a slight start Sabra realized it was a map of the city. “I do not have something to mark it with, but—” The captain pulled a marker from his bag and uncapped it, the crystal pony’s eyes widening.

“Remarkable,” he said, taking the end in his lips and making an experimental mark along the side of the map before rubbing it away with his hoof. “More than anything, the casual air with which you treat such an astounding device gives credence to your words of the future.”

The captain merely nodded. “So we’re here, correct?” he asked, taping the end furthest from him with one hoof.

“Yes,” Garnet replied as Sabra moved closer, getting a better look at the map. The city was laid out like a wheel, twelve large main “spokes” radiating out from the center. Or, he realized as he looked closer at the side streets that split off, like a snowflake. The design was too clear to make it unintentional. A faint shiver crawled down his back at the thought of the snow. At least the barrier was keeping the weather out. For the time being.

“And the nearest Order offices?”

“Here, here, here, and here.” Garnet drew small circles on the corner of several intersections.

“That one’s gone, though,” the captain said, pointing. “Cross that one.”

Garnet complied, the marker squeaking against the crystal. “The rest are equidistant from what you see here, or as close to it as the Order were able to make it. Some of them may have been wiped out during the battle, however. Which ones, I cannot speak for sure. But I have sent those I trust to find out. They will be discreet.”

“Understood. What about public parks? Or those Royal Guard we spotted on the way in?”

“The park you are referring to, I believe, is here,” Garnet said, outlining a small, raised square on the map. The image of the city, Sabra realized, was etched lightly into the surface of the crystal, like an artisan had chiseled it there. “The Royal Guard I know about. They came in from the north after the Princesses made their strike and tried to take the palace. That was here.” He drew an arrow on the map. “And from what I heard before this ‘bubble’ we were in broke apart, the Order had a very large number of enforcers in that area.”

So we’ll need to be wary of them striking back, Sabra thought as the captain nodded.

“How well would one of the Order’s offices work as a staging ground for medical supplies?”

“For a small number it would be sufficient,” Garnet said. “But to supply something to the city, there are better places. I think an industrial storehouse lies on the northeast side of the city, though there exist others.” He tapped the map with the marker, but lightly enough that it didn’t leave a mark. “It depends on whether or not you want to use existing infrastructure or have the public come seeking you.”

“A question better left to Captain Armor.” Captain Song shifted. “But for what we have, would an Order office work? They have magic-resistant cells, correct?”

“They do,” Garnet replied quickly. “And it could work. It might make some hesitant to come for food or care.”

“Well, we need to tear down the banners in any case. Could you find people to hold an Order office if we took it?”

“I … believe that yes, I could. Many of the old city guard were killed in the mines, but there are a few still out there.”

Captain Song nodded. “Spread the word then. If nothing else, it’ll give us a place to lock up Order members with some security. Are these both the same size?” His hoof tapped the two closest circles on the map.

Garnet shook his head. “The one closest to us is an old civil authority station. The other is repurposed.”

“How many on duty at any given time.”

“Ah … a dozen? Perhaps more? They may be less given recent events.”

Captain Song nodded, then turned his gaze in Sabra’s direction. “A dozen unicorns, spec? What do you think?”

Sabra peered down at the map. Several blocks up, if I read this correctly, and several east. The banner should make identifying it easy. But the captain’s question had been vague. “What do I think?”

“Can a dozen Order unicorns put up much of a fight?”

Ah. He could see the way the captain’s weight was shifting. “They will,” he said, doing his best to mimic the older stallion’s grim smile. “But it will not be enough.” He hefted his Fimbo, snapping back into its folded position with a flick of his hooves. “Shall you take it? Or shall I?”

* * *

The Order guardhouse—or office, or whatever it was; the descriptors used seemed to change regularly when the captain and the others mentioned it—was clearly designed to be noticed, Sabra decided as he moved into position. Noticed, and to remind those around it that they were being watched, with its massive, banner-shrouded watchtower. It was the latter point that they were currently counting on.

Still, its design made the building quite striking. Like those around it, it had originally been built from the same crystalline material as the rest of the city, its surface a soft, glimmering sheen under the distant light of the storm. But at some point, presumably after Sombra had taken over the city, that had been added to. Thick, growths of black crystal had been grafted to the structure—or maybe grown in place, it was hard to tell where magic was concerned—climbing out of the building to form aggressive-looking spikes and thorns as they rose over the surrounding structures. Some of the growths merely ended in wicked-looking points, as if taunting a giant to come and dare to step on them, while others merged together to form the watchtower that rose above the surrounding city. Other growths, he noted as he moved closer, just seemed to be either decorative or to be pulling double duty as an attachment point for the numerous banners hanging across the structure.

Said banners, meanwhile, were clearly designed to remind the populace who was in charge. While straightforward, there was a clear motif on display across the several styles he could see. Each of them was a startling, crimson red, with the only variance being how that red was used. Several of the smaller ones simply held the image of a red, curved slash that was likely a stylized unicorn horn, while the larger ones held a similarly stylized image, but a portrait of a unicorn with a crown, plate armor, and purple magic leaking from his eyes.

Sombra, Sabra thought, flicking his eyes back up to the peak of the watchtower. The very top was dominated by an open platform, a latticework of spiky, black crystal forming a jagged-looking cup over which a unicorn clad in the red-and-black barding of the Order was staring. There had been two on duty in the tower, but one of them had darted down into the structure the moment Captain Song had come into view. And as they’d hoped, the one left was too busy keeping an eye on Steel to notice the other pony slipping closer and closer to the side of the structure.

Hunter was right, Sabra thought as he crossed another gap in the rooftops, bringing him one step closer to the base of the tower. They never look up. They were a force used to the straightforward, to a beaten-down populace. They weren’t prepared for, or anticipating, a dedicated, trained force.

Do not get ahead of yourself. He took the admonishment in stride. His training was that: Training. His experience was limited, and while the three scouts had gone down neatly, he’d held the element of surprise in each case.

There. He was almost at the base of the watchtower now. Two gaps were left between him and the side. He peered around the chimney he’d taken cover behind, glancing down the street. Captain Song was still slowly striding up it, each hoofstep loudly clashing with the pavement. He looked like a pony striding at a full march, but given that he was only halfway up the street thus far …

A simple, straightforward plan. And so far, it seemed to be working.

He took the second-to-last gap with a quick hop, not even bothering to use his mod. He wanted the battery at full power when things got moving, and he’d need enough of it in the moments to come as it was. One more gap to go. He cleared it in a rush, hooves sliding across the slick, crystalline roof of the Order office before the rubbery grip of his suit brought him to a stop. A quick look up showed no evidence of a curious ear or gaze turned his way, and he waved a hoof, Captain Song’s pace picking up shortly thereafter—not that it sounded like it.

So far, so good, he thought, co-opting an Equestrian phrase as he looked up at the watchtower’s structure, eyes tracing the best path up its length. There, he thought, picking out a particularly thick spike that looked as though it could bear his weight plus a little extra push. There … and there. Three of them, with the last one just under the lip. He’d have to use his mod carefully. Too much power and he’d end up too far above his target. Too little, and he ran the risk of wasting energy as well as exposing his position. Not that they’ve noticed so far. But then again, that was the whole point of taking a roundabout approach.

A loud crash from the street below heralded the opening of the guardhouse door, followed by a cascade of hoofsteps funneling out into the street. That’s my cue. He crouched, purple lines flaring and then mixing with red as his mod became active. He leapt, the motion nearly effortless under the strength-enhancing effects of the mod, his body sailing upwards and reaching its peak just past the top side of the first spike. He landed lightly across its base, his hooves finding purchase against the crystal, and turned, already eyeing the next one even as below, the cascade of hooves came to a stop.

Six, maybe seven ponies, he thought as he jumped again, magic-infused muscles propelling him upward and atop the second spike with ease. A glance back confirmed his guess. Seven Order unicorns were standing in front of the building, fanning out as they pointed their horns at Captain Song.

He leapt again, the needle in the corner of his helmet dropping once more. Only about a third of the battery’s charge was left. Hopefully it would be enough. He was just under the cupola at the top of the tower now. Voices echoed up from the street below.

“You there! Halt!” The lone sound of the captain’s hoofsteps echoed to a halt … but not before taking a few more steps. Sabra took another glance down. Captain Song had come to a stop a bare twenty feet at most from the fanned semi-circle of Order. “Identify yourself!”

“I am Captain Steel Song of the Equestrian Dusk Guard.” Sabra readied himself for a final, lighter leap, this one without the mod. “I hereby request your surrender in the face of overwhelming force.”

There was a smattering of laughter from below. Sabra leaped a final time, curling his hoof over the edge of the tower railing and pulling his body up and over the top, tucking his head to his chin in a tight roll. He came up with his hooves at the ready, but the lone guard left atop the tower hadn’t even flicked an ear in his direction. His attention was fixated on the tableau below, his horn faintly aglow with a spell at the ready.

“I have never heard any voice speak of this ‘Dusk Guard’ you claim to be,” echoed a reply from below as Sabra moved toward his target. “But I see no sign of this ‘overwhelming force’ either. Perhaps both are lies?”

Sabra’s Fimbo, still in its compacted state, snapped out and around the stallion’s neck, pulling him back from the edge before the unicorn could utter more than a faint choking noise. His horn was the next target, the chin of Sabra’s helmet thumping into it and sending a shudder of pain down the guard’s body even as Sabra rolled onto his back, the stallion’s legs kicking at the air.

Rest, Sabra thought, pulling the Fimbo in tighter. He had practiced the maneuver dozens of times in combat exercises, but there was always a risk to pulling it off in a real situation, even if they’d worked to make their exercises as real as possible. Rest.

“You can think that if you’d like,” Captain Song said, his voice echoing up from down below. “But I’d advise against it. Again, I’ll make my request. Surrender, or you’re all going to regret it.” Sabra could feel the unicorn’s struggles growing weaker and weaker atop him, the hooves going leaden. Then, with a final slump, the body went limp.

He didn’t let go. A very thoughtful Night Guard sergeant had shown him that before. Seconds later, the unicorn began kicking in earnest once more, but it was already too late. The body stilled at last, unconscious.

“Your arrogance is overwhelming, Equestrian.” Sabra slid the body off, already reaching for his saddlebags. “You are one to our seven. You are a mud pony from your appearance, and therefore lacking in magic, a gift each of us possesses. You are at our mercy. Bow, and we may ease our punishment at your insolence.”

He tightened the horn-lock into place, working quickly, then went to work with the unicorn’s hooves. Dawn would have used rope, but his skill with knots was … not the best. He’d opted for something else instead, something Sky had given him after the briefing: a collection of heavy duty industrial devices made of thick plastic she had called “zip ties.”

They were far easier to use than rope. Within a few seconds, he’d tied the stallion’s hooves together, both left and right to one another, and then front to rear. He wouldn’t be going anywhere.

“Last chance,” Captain Song said as Sabra moved to take the former guard’s overwatch position. The Order unicorns had fanned around him now, bodies lowered in clear-but-sloppy combat stances. Captain Song didn’t look up, but Sabra was sure he’d seen him all the same. “Surrender, or it’s going to hurt.”

He was in position. Beneath him, he could see the top of the largest of the banners, strung between two smaller spikes. That will work perfectly. He stepped up onto the railing, balancing on the edge. There was a bit of a lip between the base of the tower and the edge of the office, but that was fine. Less distance to drop.

“I have heard enough. Seize him!”

A chorus of bright flashes filled the air, magic streaking out at the captain even as Sabra tipped forward over the edge. A whitish dome snapped into being above Captain Song, the barrage of spells cracking against its edge and dissapaiting with bright flashes. Cries of dismay reached Sabra’s ears even as his hooves met the top of the banner and tore it free with a jerk. He spun, twisting himself around the banner so that he would land first as he drug it down, strength mod coming to life just before he hit.

The force of his impact had to have rattled the roof, he knew. It wasn’t enough to crack the crystal outright, but it was enough to reduce the charge in his mod to nearly zero. It didn’t matter, though. He could make the next jump without a mod.

Below on the street, the Order unicorns were letting out cries of shock and surprise at the appearance of the shield. “Focus fire!” the leader called, her voice echoing across the street as Sabra jumped once more. “Bring that shield down! Look for the—!” Whatever she was about to say was cut off as Sabra landed beside her and the two ponies flanking her, trailing the long banner in one hoof. Before her startled shout had even begun to echo across the street he was around her and her aides and back where he had started, tugging back on the banner and wrapping it neatly around the trio.

“Nova special,” he said, jumping toward the nearest unicorn and extending his Fimbo. The unicorn had barely started to react to Sabra’s sudden appearance before the staff caught him across the side of the head, sending him flying, body limp.

The second unicorn managed to fire off a single spell, which he sidestepped before bringing his Fimbo up and striking them in the chest. He dropped the staff, letting its own momentum carry it back down as he rained a quick set of strikes on the pony’s head and face. A quick kick of his rear hoof brought his Fimbo up once more, and he gave the unicorn a final blow that sent him sprawling to the pavement.

Across the street, Captain Song had gone into action as well, leaving the protection of the bubble to assault the surprised Order. One member was already down, and as Sabra watched, the captain bucked the second hard enough to lift them free of the ground and send them crashing into the front wall of the station. They didn’t get up.

Beams of light and fire began to tear through the banner, an angry snarl ripping free alongside the three unicorns it had covered. Sabra was already moving, however, and brought his Fimbo down neatly atop one unicorn’s head, clipping his horn and eliciting a howl of pain that cut off a split-second later as his head met the paving stones. Something hot and heavy slammed into his side, a sudden heat spiking through his armor and making his muscles dance as it threw him back. The electrical bolt cut out in mid-air however, Captain Song meeting the two unicorns from the other side and crashing into them with the force of a runaway train. Both went down. Hard.

Sabra was already running to meet the captain when the front door to the station burst open, several more unicorns starting to run out of it. Steel spun, ignoring the spells that flashed past him, and delivered a buck to the gut of the downed leader. She flew back through the air, her pained cries matching those of her compatriots as slammed into them, crashing them back through the doorway. Sabra was on them a second later, spinning and flipping as he lashed out at every target, the captain moving to cover him.

A minute of violence later, and the building was theirs. The orderly offices and waiting areas were trashed, battered stallions and mares lying across furniture, the few still conscious moaning as they clutched at bruised or in some cases broken limbs.

“You should have surrendered,” Captain Song said to their leader as he secured a lock around her horn. “I gave you a chance.” She said nothing in return, merely rolling her head back and letting out a faint moan at the sight of the ring cutting off her magic.

“Check the cells,” Steel said, pulling a set of crystalline keys from behind one of the desks and pointing at a wide set of stairs that headed down into the ground. “I’ll gather up the Order.”

“Yes, captain.”

“Steel will do,” Captain Song said, tossing him the keys. “Unless needed.”

He nodded. “Understood.” It wasn’t the first time the captain had reminded him otherwise, but Plainsland honorifics were different from those of Equestria. Keys in hoof, he headed down the stairs.

The brash, harsh light was what caught his eyes first. It was bright, so bright it was almost painful even through his visor, and a vivid red. It spilled over him as soon as he reached the bottom of the steps, visor tinting. For a moment he paused, confused, and then his mind reached a cause.

Psychological, he thought as he let his gaze wander across the short hallway in front of him. Six cells greeted his eyes, each carved from crystal. Or grown, maybe. He still wasn’t sure. But each had clear, crystal doors that allowed him to see what was inside.

Each was occupied by crystal ponies in what looked like various states of shock, fear, or surprise. In one cell a family was clustered around a crying foal, in another, a lone, aged crystal stallion was curled up on the cell floor, face to the back wall. The cells had a small trough in the back for taking care of what he guessed was personal business, but it was clear that none of them had been cleaned in some time. He could smell the faint rank scent of filth through his helmet.

It made him sick.

He strode over to the first cell in line, the one with the crying foal. Its parents looked up at him, their expressions broken. “Please,” one of them said, her voice cracking, barely audible. “We need water. We—” Only then did her eyes seem to register that he wasn’t one of the Order, and she shrank back slightly.

“Who are you?” her companion asked, his own voice just as dry.

“I am Specialist Sabra of the Equestrian Dusk Guard,” Sabra said, coming to a halt by the cell door. “And we’re here to liberate this city.” The pair’s eyes widened as he slipped the key into the lock, faint hope coming into their faces. The cell door opened with a heavy thunk, sliding to one side. “We would ask that you stay upstairs. Medical care will arrive shortly.”

The pair looked at the door warily but didn’t move. “How do we know you’re what you say you are?”

He nodded. They believe me to be a test. An Order game. “Simple,” he said, releasing the clasp on his helmet and sliding up over his head. “Mimi si mmoja wao. I am not one of them.” He stepped into the cell, squinting under the bright lights, just far enough that they could see who he was, see the black-and-white stripes of his coat.

“A zebra?” the stallion asked, his eyes going wide. “But …? How?”

“All will be explained,” he said, sliding the helmet back down over his head and tightening it into place. “But that can wait. For now, please go up the stairs and wait for Sergeant Triage to arrive. We need these cells.”

“For what?” The mare’s eyes still held suspicion, the foal clutched tightly in her forehooves.

“For the Order,” Sabra said, surprised at the sense of satisfaction in his words as he moved to the next cell in line. “These cells are magic resistant, correct?”

The stallion nodded. “They cut you off, soak up any excess. Drain you to power the lights. And those never shut off. Unless you’re dead.” There was a heavy sense of finality to his words. Sabra had no doubt he was speaking from first-hoof experience.

“Good.” He could feel a coal of rage burning in his chest as he opened the next cell. “Then it will be a perfect prison for them.” The three fillies in the next cell looked up at him with hopeful wide eyes, then moved past, heading for their stairs, their tails drooping.

A perfect prison, he thought as the stench of the next cell assailed his nostrils. The occupant in it had been sick and was lying on the floor, clearly malnourished. He was forced to help the stallion out with his hoof, the crystal pony too weak to walk. The fillies from the cell before it were still there, and they each took up positions around him, helping the elderly stallion down the hall and up the stairs. Captain Song—Steel—was just on his way down, a load of three Order members on him back and a grin displeasure in his eyes as he saw the state of the cells.

“Dawn’s at the end of the street,” he said as he tossed the first three into an empty cell. “She’ll be here soon. Once she gets the crystal ponies established, we’ll need to move fast. That lightning bolt do any damage?”

He shook his head. “The armor protected me.”

“Sky Bolt does good work, but have Dawn check you before you move out. Our next move is going to be a tough one.”

“Cut the head from the snake?”

“No.” Steel shook his head as Sabra opened another cell. “No, not yet. Harder, but more important. The head can wait. We need to cut the axe from their hooves …” His words echoed down the cells.

“And their limbs from the core.”

Chapter 13

View Online

A gust of wind slid into the side of The Hummingbird, sending the aircraft rolling to the side and almost pulling Hunter’s hooves out from beneath him. “Crikey! You’d think this weather couldn’t get any more crook!”

“Sorry,” Sky Bolt said as he let go of the cockpit door frame. The sudden gust had even made her wings flare out.

“Don’t be. It’s not your fault.” The deck beneath his feet jerked once more, and a crash echoed out of the main room. He turned to see Nova picking himself up off of the floor, a scowl on his face.

“This just gets better and better doesn’t it?”

Hunter nodded as another crack of thunder echoed through the cockpit. “It’s going to get worse before it gets better. A few of those storms will cancel one another out, but the ones that’re left? They’re going to make a right mess of things when they’re all working together. The worst of it is yet to come.” He turned back to Sky Bolt. “Speaking of which, Bolt, can you land this thing in weather like this?”

“Iffy!” Bolt called, her voice rolling over another cry of thunder. “If the wind goes down, sure. If not … there’s no way. Not without a hangar. The wind’s fighting us hard as it is!”

He nodded. Not the best news. It’ll make things right stroppy. Ahead of the airship, the winds roared around the Crystal Range, the mountains so wrapped in shear winds of snow that they appeared to have rivers moving through the air around them.

“What if you can’t land it?” he asked. “Is there any way you can deflate the envelope a little?”

Bolt shook her head. “No. I could, but we’d be grounded for days. The Hummingbird can generate a little liftgas if needed, but not enough to do something like that.”

“So you’ll have to stay aboard until the weather settles.”

“Pretty much.”

He let out a sigh. “Well … dang. Hopefully this weather lets up. Maybe you can run recon from the air.”

“Maybe. We wouldn’t be able to communicate, though.”

“I know.” Bolt leaned down and adjusted something as The Hummingbird shook again. “We could try landing on the other side of the mountains.”

He shook his head. “No. We cross the mountains, we’re out of Equestrian territory. Steel was explicit: The Ocean is off-limits. We poke our heads in there and get spotted, and we could be in a world of trouble.”

“Literally,” Nova called from the main room. “Bolt uses the ethereal crystal from up there in most of our gear.”

“How’d you know that?” he asked, turning and giving the unicorn a raised brow.

“I’ve watched her,” Nova replied. “She has me test some of the stuff out when she’s prototyping it.”

“I get it,” Bolt said, her voice loud and clear. “We violate international obligations, The Ocean stops trading with us, bad things happen.”

“That is the bad thing,” Hunter said.

“Is that why everyone’s keeping it so quiet that Blade is there on your instructions?”

His wings almost popped out before he stopped them, and he gave Bolt a stern look. “How’d you find out about that?”

She shrugged even as the airship shook again, rattling under a heavy gust of wind. “I put two and two together around the time you ended up with all that KP. Between what Steel was saying and what was going on … not too hard to figure out.”

Figures. “I guess we are supposed to be the best at what we do.” He turned and looked back at Nova. “What about—?”

“Two minutes after the meeting was over.”

Hunter frowned. “And you didn’t say anything to Steel?”

“Okay,” Nova said, rolling his eyes. “I didn’t figure everything out. I thought he knew, and the whole ‘not our job anymore’ thing was just cover. Right up until the KP. Unless that was cover too.”

Hunter shook his head. “Maybe I don’t give you guys enough credit. Is there anyone who didn’t know?”

Sky Bolt shrugged. “Dawn, maybe. Unless Nova told her.”

“I did not,” came Nova’s voice. “I figured it was ‘need to know.’ Clandestine, you know?”

“And I didn’t tell Sabra, but he might have figured it out on his own.”

“All that time you two spend together and it never came up?” Nova called.

“We’ve got plenty of better things to talk about than ramifications of Hunter’s KP.”

“I’ll bet.”

“You wanna walk home?”

Hunter shook his head, grinning as the banter between the two came to a stop, Nova chuckling. “Anyhow …” he said, grabbing the doorframe as The Hummingbird shook under a particularly violent gust. “So you won’t be able to land, but you might be able to run recon?”

“It depends on what I’m looking for,” Bolt said with a shrug. “Any ideas? And I still wouldn’t be able to talk to you outside of flashing the running lights.”

“Don’t military airships do that to communicate?”

She nodded. “Yeah, but they all have their own codes. Plus, they have colored lights.” Her face took on a darker cast, one of regret. “One more thing to add to the list of items that ‘should have been there when I built this thing.’”

“Hey,” Hunter said, resting a hoof on her shoulder. “Looking back, right?”

She nodded, the look of disappointment leaving her face. “Yeah, but it’s one more thing to put on the list of things to do.”

“That’s for after-mission reports,” Hunter said. “For now, let’s focus on the mission. About how far out are we from the glacier?”

“In this weather?” Sky Bolt flipped the maps down and checked her instruments. “Based on our current speeds … at least another hour. Maybe two. Depends on the storm.”

“How likely is it to go our way?” Nova asked from behind Hunter. He stepped aside, letting the colt into the cockpit.

“Not likely,” Bolt said as another gust shook the cockpit. “We might get a break near the edges, but …” She waggled her wings from side to side. “No way to know until we get there.”

“So then, an hour or two to figure out what you’re going to do until the weather stabilizes.”

“If it stabilizes,” Nova added.

“If it stabilizes,” he corrected. “We can’t just abandon The Hummingbird—and it was never on the table,” he added as Bolt shot him a horrified look. “There’s no way we’re doing that. Best we can do is have you run recon from the air, maybe work as a mobile base? Until the weather clears and you can set her down somewhere.” He glanced down at the control panel. “She does have a searchlight, right?”

“Yeah.” Bolt reached below the controls and fiddled with something. A brilliant beam of light cut through the storm ahead of them. “I can move it too,” she added, the beam twisting and turning. “Problem is, the darker it gets and the more snow we have, the harder it’ll be, and it blinds me to everything else.”

“Still, might be useful in a pinch. Signaling or something.” He let out a sigh. “Might help if we knew what we were supposed to be hunting down and distracting.”

“King Sombra,” Bolt said, but then Nova shook his head.

“That’s who, not what,” he said, earning him a frown.

“He’s a unicorn. Steel said that much.”

“No, Nova’s right,” Hunter said. “He was a unicorn. Now he’s a ‘shade.’ Whatever that is.”

“Whatever it is, it doesn’t have a body,” Nova said.

“Right.” He nodded. “So that’s one thing we know about it. So what will it look like? A ghost? Am animated pile of sticks sort of like a timberwolf? Snow monster? Sentient cloud?” He shook his head. “And if he’s any of those things, what sort of weird powers is he going to have? Can he fly? Pass through walls? What we know is pretty shonky, and what we don’t know …”

He let his voice trail off, silence—or as close as the interior of The Hummingbird got to it—filling the empty air. Both Nova and Sky Bolt appeared to be deep in thought, though about what, he couldn’t say for certain.

“Okay,” Sky Bolt said at last. “So we don’t know what we’re looking for, outside of maybe ‘we’ll know it when we see it.’”

“Well, anything the Princesses would describe as a ‘shade’ probably would be fairly easy to connect,” Nova broke in. “And Hunter knows the local wildlife, so he could probably point out if something is out-of-place or doesn’t look right. And Steel did say that it’s a being of magic and spirit—”

“Which means my mod—I mean, the one you’re using,” Bolt said, looking at Hunter. “It should be able to track him.”

“We guessed that. That’s why I took it.”

“Right,” Nova said. “But all cards on the table. If it’s magic, I can probably figure out a spell to hurt it.”

“Figure out a spell?”

Nova shrugged. “If all else fails, hit it harder, remember? I can blast things with the best of them. It might not stop him, but it couldn’t hurt. I mean … You know what I meant.”

“If the Princesses are right, we won’t be able to stop him,” Sky Bolt pointed out. “We’re a … what was it?”

“Holding action,” Hunter said. Another gust rolled over The Hummingbird, but this time the shake seemed to be coming from the rear of the aircraft, jostling him back slightly. Maybe the wind was shifting in their favor? “We can’t beat him, and he’ll only get stronger. We’re to delay him from getting to the city as long as possible.”

“Granted,” he said. “It does sound a bit stroppy given how little we know. But the Princesses wouldn’t have sent us if they weren’t sure we could handle it.”

“So we’re back to square one,” Nova said. “What do we do with The Hummingbird.”

“The mobile base idea has merit,” Hunter said. “Stay low as you can, provide light, shelter if we need it. Glaciers aren’t going to have any trees growing on them, so we’ll have plenty of wide-open space if we need it. Off the glacier, though …” His eyes slid to the world outside the cockpit and the tight, rocky spires of the Crystal Range. They looked to be pure white at a distance, but he knew better. There were plenty of trees and rock on the steep slopes.

“What?” Nova asked. “Aren’t the mountains just stone and snow?”

It was Sky Bolt that shook her head. “No, and even that’s dangerous. Winds near mountains can get really aggressive and unpredictable. The last thing we need is for The Hummingbird to get sucked into a cliff-face and shredded.”

“But even outside that,” she continued. “There are a lot of trees on those mountains. Not a huge amount, but enough that I’d be at risk of getting tangled or worse if I got too close.”

“So he’ll have cover to hide under,” Nova said. “And plenty of places to keep far away from you.”

“Again, if I can land this thing, it won’t be a problem,” Bolt added. “But remember that I also have to get back to it when we see the dome go up over the city—”

“To get Captain Song and the rest of the team,” Nova said, nodding. “I know. I’m in with what we’re doing. Just … sorting it out.”

Again the silence descended, settling over them like a cold blanket. Hunter cleared his throat.

“Okay,” he said as they both turned to look at him. “Assuming Sky Bolt can’t land then, let’s formulate a plan for working with it. We know that Sombra was sealed somewhere around the Glacier of Woe.” He reached out and tapped the map for emphasis. “The glacier has shifted and moved over the last thousand years, though, and we don’t really know if his sealing moved with it or stayed in place. The glacier is large, but it does give us a decent place to start. Plus,” he said, rubbing a hoof against his chin, “maybe a clue in the name, too.”

“In the name?” Nova asked.

“You know why it’s called the Glacier of Woe?”

“Just what Dawn told us already,” Nova said. “It got names that after the first explorer said it was moaning all the time. And that it was creepy.”

“But … don’t glaciers do that anyway?” Bolt asked. “The moaning, I mean. Not the creepy bit. Like, it’s ice moving and all that?”

Hunter shook his head. “They’ll creak sometimes, yeah. Sound like thunder another. Moaning, though? Not normal. This one sounds like ‘a soul trapped in torment.’ At least, that’s the story I heard in the Rangers.”

“A soul in torment does sound a bit like a sealed shade,” Nova agreed. “Was there any more to that?”

“Nothing useful, unless you count the fact that everypony likes to turn it into a scary story about how the moaning drove the explorer mad, and he went back and dove into a crevasse, with his haunted corpse now hunting explorers and creating the very moans that drove him mad.”

“Seriously?”

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “First of all, the explorer was a her, but it’s a him in the story. Second, she retired after a number of expeditions to the North Pole. She was only in the Crystal Range for training anyway.”

“You looked it up, didn’t you?” Nova asked, grinning.

“Dinkum I did,” Hunter said, stomping one hoof. “But even if the story about the explorer cracking a fruity isn’t true, the story about why the glacier is named that is. Most beings avoid the place on account of it being ‘creepy.’ Sure, there’s plenty of goss and bush chinwagging going on about the place, but when it comes right down to it? It makes spooky, creepy noises.”

“And that could be because of our guy.”

He nodded. “Yeah. So with or without Bolt on the ground, we’ll start there. If we’re on the ground, we’re going to want to be tethered. Have either of you ever been on a glacier?” Bolt and Nova looked at one another before shaking their heads.

“Right, well, it’s dangerous. Really dangerous. The ice is moving. Slowly, but it’s moving. Maybe a few inches a year. What that means is that it’s always shifting. Crevasses can open up without warning. Sometimes the ice splits apart beneath a thin coat of snow, a little slot canyon of ice hundreds of feet deep and covered only by snow that looks the same as anything else. We’ll take climbing gear: Ice axes, harnesses, and we’ll stay tethered at all times. One of us falls in, it’ll be up to whoever they’re tethered to to get them out. As well as not join them.”

“Couldn’t you just fly out?” Nova asked.

“If it was wide enough for my wings,” he replied. “And sure, I could fly over the glacier, but the wind might be so strong I’d get tired out. If we have to do things the hard way—and it’s kind of looking like we will—we’d best be ready for it.”

“So we take full survival gear,” he continued. “In fact, it might be better if Sky Bolt stays in The Hummingbird and flies support if possible, at least at first. Give us a wider look at things without tiring yourself. At least help us find what we’re looking for.” He looked at the pegasus. “You do have that searchlight.”

“And I could flash the running lights if I find something,” she said, before reaching out and flicking a switch with her hoof, the magilights on the exterior of the airship flicking off and on. “Won’t be as useful in the day, but at night …”

“No, that’s good,” Hunter said. “And if Nova and I found something, I can light a flare, or Nova could send up a flash with his horn. As far as what we’re looking for …” He shrugged. “Anything that looks suspicious. Out of place. Oddly out of place.”

“What about when we find it?”

“I don’t know.” It felt almost relieving to say the words aloud. “I mean, I wish I did, but we’re kind of flying in the dark here. I guess it depends on what we find, and what this Sombra does. For all we know, we might find a thousand-plus-year old corpse.”

“Ugh,” Bolt said, sticking her tongue out in disgust. “I hope not.”

“What would we do then?” Nova asked.

He shrugged. “Secure it and keep looking. From what we know, he’s a creature of magic and spirit. A body doesn’t mean much if he’s given it up.”

“And if we don’t find anything?”

“We keep looking until we do, or Steel says otherwise.” Another gust rolled over The Hummingbird, again pushing them forward through the air. The mountains did look a lot closer. Maybe we’re making better time than we thought.

“Still, aside from safety and searching, we need to talk about the ‘delay’ part of our mission too,” he continued after a few moments. “Which, unfortunately, until we have a better idea of what we’re up against, is kind of hard to plan for. Best I can say is ‘we keep him away from the Crystal Empire.’ If that means traps, we make them. If it means fighting, we do that. If it means distracting, we do that. How …?” He shrugged again. “Maybe you’ll have better ideas, or we all will once we see this guy.”

“Well, running fights while keeping somepony occupied were something I used to have a lot of experience with,” Nova said with a shrug of his own.

“Used to?” Bolt shook her head. “I saw the chase you led the Night Guard on during that practice game last week. “You had them crashing into each other.”

“True,” Nova said with what was probably supposed to be a humble nod, though the grin on his muzzle spoiled it somewhat. “That was fun.”

“Good point, Bolt,” Hunter said, giving the mare a grin of his own. “Which means that for tactical, in-the-moment things, Nova, I’m going to be looking to you.”

“Wait, me? Wh—?” His jaw snapped shut, Nova having clearly already answered his own question. Hunter spoke, their voices echoing in tandem. “Because I’m good at it.”

“Because you’re good at it. Rather, you’re the best at it,” Hunter added. “You know how to find the buttons to push that’ll aggro up this Sombra so he won’t even think of heading for the Crystal Empire. I’ll keep you in-check, or you’ll explain to me why doing something is a good or bad idea.”

“Sort of like how Steel handles the big things while you handle us half the time,” Sky Bolt said as she checked their heading once more.

“Right. Sort of like that.”

“All right,” Nova said. For once his expression was one of pure seriousness. “I’ll do what I can.”

“Careful, Nova,” Sky Bolt said as she slapped the maps back up into the ceiling. “You’re getting leadership on you. Stuff’s contagious.”

“There’s six of us,” Nova replied with a roll of his eyes. “And of those six, Sabra and I are the only specialists left. Even if I got promoted, who would I order around? Him? Besides, I don’t think I can get promoted. Working off my crimes, remember?”

“He’s right,” Hunter said with a bit of a shrug. “He’s probably never going past specialist. Not that he needs to. When we’re in a blue and everything’s gone bodgy, if he’s the only one who hasn’t cracked, then he’s the one I’m following.”

“All right, all right,” Sky Bolt said, holding up a hoof. “I get it. I’ve still got one more question: what are you two going to do while I go back and get the rest of the team?”

Hunter glanced at Nova. “Depends,” he said after a moment. “On what we’re up against, I mean. We’ll probably both stay, but maybe not.” He shrugged. “We’ll deal with that storm when it comes. If it’s a storm at all.”

“So … flying in the dark.”

“To be fair,” he said. “That is our job. Golems, crazy railway mares … now an ancient empire.”

Sky Bolt nodded but didn’t say anything, staring out the cockpit at the storm. Nova looked at her for a moment and then gave him a pointed look.

Hunter cleared his throat. “Something else on your mind, Bolt?”

“It’s nothing.”

Right. And I’m a Princess. “You’re staring out at nothing, corporal.”

“What if … we don’t get the call to go back?”

Ah … She was worried, then. Maybe some shades of her stress issues after the ERS thing breaking back through.

“It’ll come,” he said, giving her what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “Steel will come out on top.”

“Are you sure?”

He nodded. “Have some faith in him, Bolt. Steel’s been in more battles than those ponies are likely to have seen or read about. For that matter, have some faith in your coltfriend. We’ll get the call. I just hope we’re not bored out of our minds when it comes.”

“Be careful what you wish for,” Nova said. “There’s an old curse that basically says ‘may you live in interesting times.’ From the Plainslands, actually. I think. But given what we could be up against, I’d rather be bored.”

“Not a bad way to look at it.” Hunter glanced back at Sky Bolt. “But Bolt, they’ll be fine. Steel’s got a lot of experience with this kind of thing. By the time Captain Armor and the rest of the Guard arrive, they’ll be lucky if they have anything left to do.” There did seem to be a little bit of relief in her eyes, though it was hard to tell.

“They’ll be fine,” he said, bringing his eyes back to the nearing Crystal Mountains. Almost there. “They know what to do.”

I just wish we had as good an idea of what was coming as those three did.

* * *

“Hey, Hunter!”

He sat up with a start, a startled “Huh?” leaving his mouth. The world came back to him in a rush. Airship. Crystal Mountains. Sombra.

“You fell asleep,” Nova was saying. He was standing by the bunk. His bunk. That was right. He’d laid down for a moment to catch up on sleep after they’d finished discussing the mission. And then …

I guess I got what I wanted. He shook his head, blinking away stickiness and letting out a quick yawn. Nova wasn’t still speaking, or shouting, so it wasn’t an emergency. “What’s up?” he asked. “We there?”

Nova nodded. “Just about. Figured I should wake you up.”

“How long was I out?”

“About twenty-five minutes.”

He blinked. No wonder he already felt awake. “That quick?”

Nova shrugged. “The storm’s finally at our backs, so we’re making some good time.”

“Right.” He shifted, rotating and glancing out the side window. A sharp, steep, craggy mountainside met his eyes, dotted with tall, stiff pines and wrapped in wind-swept white. “Yup, those’re the Crystal Mountains all right.” Snow swirled past the glass, carried past by the heavy winds, and he twisted back, rolling out of the bunk and dropping to his hooves. A twinge in his neck made him pause, and he twisted for a moment, stretching the area and feeling a welcome pop from somewhere inside.

Note to self, he thought as he picked up his helmet. Sleeping in your armor can be uncomfortable. He stretched once more, then began trotting toward the cockpit.

He saw it even before Sky Bolt spoke at his entrance. Ahead of them, the rolling, craggy shape of the mountains was abruptly terminated by a plain of dirty white, a flat, crusted surface that stretched for a mile or more between the sides of two peaks. He looked north, his eyes following the glacier as it wound back through the peaks toward its source, and then south, his eyes following it down to the end of the range, where it carved a path across the plains. Eventually, it would calve and melt, the icebergs drifting down a shallow river until they joined Neighagra Falls and the rest of Equestria.

And somewhere along that length, we’re supposed to find our pony. “How’s the wind?” he asked before Sky Bolt could say anything, his mind skipping ahead. “Good enough to land?”

“Hard to say. We’re flying smoother, but the winds along the glacier might be pretty strong. I’m not sure what I would anchor to.”

Crikey. I forgot about that. “It’s fine.” He took a glance at the dimming sky. “We’re not going to have much light anyway. I want you in the sky, keeping overwatch on Nova and I and getting a better view.”

“Are we going to sleep on the ground?” Nova asked as he stepped into the cockpit behind him, his eyes fixed on the distant glacier. “Because that looks cold.”

“Not if we can help it.” He glanced at Sky Bolt. “We’ll take our gear just in case, but if we can sleep aboard The Hummingbird, we should.”

“It’d be warmer.”

“And safer,” Hunter said, staring at the distant glacier, his eyes rolling over each crimp in the rough surface. “This is prime yeti territory. Ice-worms too. And frostwolves. And worse. The stuff rangers drive out of Equestria. We’ll sleep in the tents if we have to, but unless we have to, I’d prefer to sleep somewhere off the ground.” He pulled his eyes away from the glacier and looked closer to the airship, his eyes searching the trees and open snows beneath them.

“Binoculars,” he said after a moment, and Sky Bolt complied.

“What is it?” she asked as he stepped forward, getting a better angle on the ground.

“Is it Sombra?” Nova asked. There was a hint of excitement to the colt’s voice, because of course there was.

“No,” he said. “Yeti.”

“What? Where?”

He lowered the glasses, pointing. “Not actual yeti, but sign. Down there. There’s a clear spot where the snow’s been beaten down and branches have been broken off the surrounding trees. Yeti nest. Abandoned now, but worth knowing. They’re aggressively territorial, and very dangerous if they catch you off-guard.” As they had Swift. A faint pang echoed through his chest.

“What do we do if we encounter some?” Nova asked.

“Depends on how many of them there are.” He lifted the glasses once more, checking the surrounding terrain. “They’re doubtlessly still around, but the storm might have them seeking shelter.” It was no use looking further: The storm had made it impossible to trace any tracks from their altitude. I’d need to be down on the ground. And we’re not supposed to be tracking yeti anyway.

Unless their quarry was using them somehow. Could a shade do that? He wondered as he lowered the binoculars. Steel really should have asked more questions.

Then again, maybe the Sisters themselves didn’t know. “Either way, with luck they won’t bother us. If they do …” He glanced over at the armored unicorn. “They’re a bit like a minotaur. Bipedal. Not quite as tough. More agile, though. And really poofy fur for warmth. And a really thick skull with horns; don’t go for a head-shot if you’re not sure it’ll connect. Go for the gut. Hit hard and fast, and they’ll fall back. They’re ambush hunters, not fighting predators. They get their claws on you though …” He couldn’t quite conceal the shiver that walked down his shoulders and back like a crawling spider. “You’ve got armor,” he finished. “Hope it doesn’t cut the undersuit.”

Thankfully, Nova didn’t ask any other questions, and he gave the clearing a final look, checking for any signs of a creche or recent kill. Nothing, he thought as he lowered the glasses once more. Either it’s hidden under the trees, or they took it with them when they moved on. The airship rattled again, wind jostling it in the sky.

“Hey, Hunter.” Sky Bolt’s voice tugged him from his focus, and he turned to see her holding out a hoof, her eyes fixed on something to the north of The Hummingbird. “Hand me those binoculars.”

“You don’t have a second set?” Nova asked as Hunter complied.

“Just give,” Bolt said, peering through the glasses, her brow furrowing.

“You see something?” Hunter asked. He tried following her line of sight, but all he could make out was the long trail of the glacier heading north.

“I’m not—wait a minute.” Sky Bolt adjusted the binoculars, scowling as the airship bounced beneath her and threw her view off. “Come on … There!” She pointed with one hoof, excitement in her voice.

“What is it?” he asked, stepping around the front of the control panel, hooves on the glass, and still looking in the same direction Bolt was.

“Here,” she shoved the binoculars toward him. “You see that dark patch on the glacier?”

“Which one?”

“The one on the right side. That kind of looks like a fish?”

His eyes locked on it. Or at least, what he hoped was it. “About a quarter of the way up the mountain from us? Yeah, I see it.”

“Look to the left. You’ll see it.”

“Right.” He hefted the binoculars, the distant world blurring before growing somewhat clear once more. He had to lower them once to make sure he was looking in the right direction, but once he was sure of it, he started panning the view left until—

“Oh,” he said as he brought the glasses to a stop, trying to compensate for the juddering motion of their ride. “I think I see it. Black-looking crystal jutting out of a crevasse?”

“Yeah. Is that natural?”

“No,” he said, eyeing the distant shape. It was simple, almost straightforward. In a way, it looked like the tip of one of the crystals found in the caverns beneath Canterlot, but so dark it almost looked like it was absorbing light rather than reflecting it. “How’d you spot it?” He lowered the glasses for a brief moment; the crystal was nothing more than a faint, black speck on the glacier.

“I thought I saw something glint, like glass.”

He nodded as he lifted the binoculars again, catching sight of the crystal’s surface flashing under distant bolt of lightning. “Just saw it too. Nice catch, Bolt.”

“Is that it, then?” Nova asked. “Can I see it?”

“It’s definitely not normal,” Hunter said, holding the binoculars on the bit of crystal and then on the glacier around it. “At least, it’s not natural. I’ve never seen anything like that in a glacier before, but it could be something carried down from somewhere else.”

“That said, it is crystal.” he said, passing the binoculars to Nova. “Weird-looking crystal. Good a place as any to start looking.” He glanced at Sky Bolt. “Can you bring us down right on top of it?”

“Not on top,” she said, adjusted the controls. “But I can bring us down pretty close.”

He nodded. “Good. Let’s get to it, and go take a look.”

Chapter 14

View Online

“You want to do what?” Dawn’s voice cut through the interior of the Order station, loud enough that Sabra folded his ears back against the sides of his helmet. Nearby a number of the crystal ponies jumped or shied away, including the one that she was examining. Or, at least, he tried to, but his body was so weak he could barely manage more than a slight jerk.

“I’m sorry,” Dawn said, composing herself and looking the starved, aged stallion in the eyes. “That was not meant for you. You were right; one of your ribs is broken, and will need to be wrapped.” Her horn, already aglow, shone brighter, a long roll of some kind floating out of her saddlebags. “As for you, captain,” she said, glaring at Captain Song. “If I may speak freely—”

“Denied.” Steel’s blunt request seemed to shock the mare, the bandage coming to a stop in the air for just the barest moment. “I already know what you’re going to say. Unless you’re going to genuinely surprise me.”

“These ponies need medical attention,” Dawn said as she lifted the aged stallion in her magic, breaking off a section of the bandaging and carefully attaching it to his side. “I’m the one best-suited to giving it to them.”

“I’m aware of that, sergeant,” Steel replied, his tone losing none of its sharpness. “But they have doctors as well.”

“Doctors that are over a thousand years out-of-date,” Dawn said back, glaring at the captain while easing the bandage onto the stallions side. “Some of my materials they won’t even be able to identify, much less use, and if what we found in this station was any indication, there are plenty of other ponies who will need aid.”

“Then they’ll have to make do.” Sabra could hear from the captain’s tone that there was no brokering any argument, despite Dawn’s best efforts. In fact, from the expressions on the crystal ponies, they’d seen the same thing. “At least until Sabra and I can spare you.”

“To take on the single largest concentration of the Order left in the city?” Dawn frowned as she released the stallion from her magic. “Here,” she said, addressing him as she floated one of the medical kits over. It was sealed with blue tape “Take this,” she said. “There’s food and water in it. Eat slowly, starting with the plainest of things. Your system might go into shock otherwise.”

The stallion nodded and slid off of the desk, Sabra stepping up beside him in support as his aged hooves met the floor. The crystal pony gave him a nod of thanks before taking a few shaky steps, and a few crystal ponies rushed out of the crowd to give him a hoof.

“Dawn, you’re a fine doctor, but you’re not a commander,” Steel said. “We have to meet the Order’s largest power-base head-on now. I’m giving you a direct order.”

“As medical authority—”

“Then hear me out,” Steel said, stepping right in front of her. “Charging the Order head-on may sound crazy, but you want to help these ponies, right?” He waved a hoof at the crowd.

“I do.”

“How will you help them when the Order forms up and pins us in here?” he asked. “They outnumber us. We can’t play defensively. You understand medicine, Dawn, but I understand war. If we don’t hit them now, they’ll cut us off. Then you won’t be treating anyone.”

“And you’re suggesting attack them in turn?” she asked.

“It’s the only way to keep from getting pinned down. We let them surround us here, we give them control over the engagement and weight things in their favor. We need to pick them off before they get rolling, or they’ll crush us with overwhelming force. And to do that, I need all of my team members. Not just myself and Sabra. If you invoke medical authority to stay here, you help a few ponies to leave the rest of the city in a lurch.”

“We need to take the offensive and keep their counterattack off-balance,” Steel continued. “If we take out the majority of their forces, they only have two options: Retreat into their strongholds like this station, at which point we can pick them off freely, or gather their remaining forces for a final push. Either option gives the ponies of this empire more freedom to move and act on their own. As well as allows you to treat those who truly need it, and somewhere more appropriate, like a hospital.”

Dawn stood for a moment, her forehead wrinkling with thought.

“Dawn,” Steel said, his voice growing slightly softer. “You know I’m right.” For a few moments more, the mare was silent, but then she nodded.

“I apologize, captain,” she said, inclining her head slightly. “I was … out of line.”

“No,” Steel said, shaking his head. “You were in line. You’re a doctor foremost. It’s just right now I need you to be a warrior before you can be a doctor.”

“I understand.” She glanced around the station. Many of the desks had been shoved aside to make room for the crystal ponies crowding into the place, and most of them were looking at the team, waiting silently. Sabra couldn’t help but notice how many of them looked … broken. Their shoulders were slumped, their ears laid back. Even their coats seemed to be dull, like a piece of glass that had been smudged by too many hooves. “I’ll go speak with Garnet. I’ll need to leave someone with medical authority in charge.”

“Three minutes,” Steel said, nodding. “Then we move.” Dawn nodded, snapped a salute, and trotted away.

“Captain Song,” Sabra said, waiting until Dawn had slipped out the doors, the line of crystal ponies waiting to be treated beginning to break up.

“Hold on,” Steel said, pointing at the line. “Where are you folks going?”

“You’re leaving,” one of the crystal ponies said, a dejected expression across her face. “And you’re taking the doctor with you. There’s no point in—”

“Stay right there,” Steel barked, freezing the breaking line in place. Sabra caught a hurried “Of all the—” muttered under the captain’s breath. “Yes, we’re leaving. But the doctor will be leaving her supplies and tasking some crystal ponies to look after your injuries. And unless I miss my guess, you’ve all been lined up by severity of injury and need of treatment. So stay in line and wait to be treated.”

“But the Order—” another pony began, fear in their eyes, only for the captain to cut them off.

“Isn’t going to be a problem much longer. That’s why I need my sergeant. So stay where you are,” Steel said with a stomp of his hoof. “That’s an order.” The crowd flinched at his words, but sank back into place. Sank, Sabra noticed, being the operative word. Captain Song, meanwhile, turned and marched for the door, and he fell in beside him.

“Was that the wisest course of action?” he asked as soon as they’d passed out of the front door. The steps were clear, though the street in front of the station wasn’t. Garnet appeared to have been speaking honestly when he’d spoken of his role as a local leader. Though he had since been joined by two other crystal ponies, one of whom had been in the cells of the Order station. All three were currently speaking with Dawn, several other crystal ponies nearby clearly waiting their turn. Their coats seemed a bit shinier than they had been earlier, but maybe it was the light.

“It wasn’t ideal,” Steel replied. “But neither was letting the ones most in need of medical care at the moment go limping home because we couldn’t treat them.” He deviated to the side, away from the cluster of crystal ponies and equipment. “Now,” he said, his voice lowering. “About that list. Did you find it?”

Sabra nodded and reached into his saddlebags and pulled out a small scroll. “In the desk of whoever was in charge of the station.”

“No magic?” Steel seemed surprised.

“The lock was magic,” Sabra said. “So I broke the desk.” Said lock was still sitting untouched on the floor of the office. “But this appears to be the list you were looking for.”

“And?” Steel asked, unrolling the scroll and taking a quick look at it.

“Garnet does not appear anywhere,” Sabra confirmed. “Unless he lied to us about his name, or the names on that list are merely cover—”

“I hope not, but I’m glad you thought of that.”

“—he would appear to be who he claimed to be.”

Steel nodded, but Sabra didn’t miss the way some of the tenseness in the stallion’s shoulders seemed to flow out. The list wasn’t a perfect confirmation, but it was a strong suggestion that the crystal stallion could be trusted to be who he said he was. “Well, I don’t know any of the names on this list,” the captain said after another few moments looking at it. “But I’ll bet he does.” He rolled the scroll back up. “What about the other list we were hoping to find?”

Sabra nodded. “This one wasn’t even sealed.” It wasn’t on a scroll either; it had simply been a piece of paper atop one of the desks. Old paper, rough in texture, but paper nonetheless.

“‘The weekly watch list,’” Steel read as Sabra passed the paper to him. “Garnet’s not on this one, either.”

“It is a weekly list,” Sabra pointed out. “This name, however,” he said, pointing at a name that had been crossed out about halfway down the list. “I know.”

“You do?”

He nodded. “They were one of the ponies in the cells. I heard their name called as they left.”

“So, weekly shake-down and watch list, maybe.”

“Or the Order discovered something they didn’t like.”

“All right.” Captain Song slid both the scroll and the sheet of paper into a pocket on his saddlebags. “Best we can do right now is pass this information on to Garnet and see if he has the ability to do anything with it. If not, we can pass it to Armor and his Guard when he arrives. We should assume that at least one of these collaborators has already split to inform other Order members about us. We might be able to use that.”

“Anyway,” he said with a shake of his head. “Wait here. I’ll go speak with Garnet.” He strode toward the crystal pony leader, the ponies around Garnet backing away slightly as Steel approached. Dawn had already broken away, and was currently leading a trio of crystal ponies into the station. Which meant at the moment there was nothing for Sabra to do but …

Wait, he thought, ears flicking as he shuffled through the various conversations around him. Most were subdued, but here and there he heard a spark of hope and spirit. Much of it seemed to be coming from the ponies they’d released from the Order’s cells.

I wonder if there were ponies inside that other Order station that Hunter attacked? The collapsed one? If there had been, hopefully the cells had been safe from the destruction visited on the upper floors.

He let his eyes drift to the skyline, up to the central tower and the red banners hanging from it. Smoke still hung over some parts of the city, though it was lessening. Ponies in those areas were getting control over the damage done from the battle between Sombra and the Princesses.

He shuddered. What must that have looked like? The Princesses were immortals, possessing great power and capability. To be brought to a standstill, almost, by a mortal? The city is lucky it is in as good a shape as it is. Then again, knowing the Princesses, they had done everything in their power to make sure that damage to the city had been kept to a minimum.

A minimum was not none, however. That was simply the way of things when war between powers arose. “All bear the scars,” an ancient minotaur philosopher had said. Granted, he’d followed a moment later with “So make certain that your enemy sees yours so that he knows how much you have survived.” Not subtle, but given the conditions of the burning lands the minotaurs called home, not unexpected.

This city will bear some scars, Sabra thought, watching as Steel began to show Garnet the scroll, keeping his voice low but not so low that it seemed suspicious. Garnet, on the other hoof, had no such reservations. His eyes widened in shock as he took the list in his hooves, and he sank back on his haunches. One of the nearby crystal ponies, a mare, began to back away, her own eyes going wide as Garnet turned to look at her.

She bolted, and Sabra leaped, his undersuit flashing with red-purple lines as he sailed across the street. He twisted in the air, bringing his Fimbo around and extending it even as he landed right in front of the mare. Her shock at his abrupt entrance only stunned her for a moment, and she jumped to the side, trying to dart around him. He didn’t even have to look as he stuck his staff between her hooves, tripping her and sending her sprawling to the ground.

“No!” she shouted, her hooves skidding over the crystal stones as she struggled to get back up. Sabra planted a hoof between her shoulder blades, pressing her down as Steel and Garnet rushed over. “No! Let me go! You cannot do this!” She lashed out with her forehooves, but the blows bounced off of Sabra’s armor with almost no impact.

“Amethyst,” Garnet said, and the mare quieted as the crystal stallion locked eyes with her. “Your mother would be ashamed.”

“My mother could not see the truth. Neither do you, Sterling,” the mare said, her physical protests ceasing as Sabra zip-tied her front hooves together. “We are the wellsprings of magic. King Sombra is a pony who can use that wellspring, and if we go along with it, make all our lives better. Have you forgotten why we were forced to flee to this wretched waste in the first place? To fend for ourselves? Sombra gives us the power we lack!”

“Power we lack only because he took it,” Garnet said, shaking his head. “And the heart.”

“The heart was weak. Under his hoof, we will be made strong. You may bow before foreign invaders, but I will not.” She snapped her jaw shut with a sharp click, glaring at Garnet as if daring him to disagree.

“If you want my advice, lock her up in the cells downstairs and sort it out later,” Steel said. “Just make sure you’re not trying to put her in one that we left the Order in. They might try to break out if they see we’re not around.”

“You should consider a guard as well,” Sabra added. “Or keep the keys on your own person.”

“Or both,” Steel said, nodding as he pulled Amethyst to her hooves. Only slightly roughly. The nearest crystal ponies were watching, Sabra noted, but most of them seemed to have already gone back to what they were doing in helping sort Dawn’s supplies.

They’re used to it, he realized as he and Steel began guiding the crystal mare back toward the Order station. She was holding her head high, as if she’d been vindicated somehow. Somepony getting pulled off of the street. Just another day for them, perhaps? It was a sobering thought.

“Captain,” Dawn said, stepping out of the doors as they approached. Her eyebrows rose, but she gave no other sign of being bothered by the pony between them. “Arrangements have been made. I am ready to move out on your command.” Only then did she bring up their quarry. “Problems?”

“Collaborator,” Garnet said, his glower adding more weight to his words than his tone. “One of several, it would seem, though I have not seen some of the others on the list in quite some time. We’ll have to check their homes. Captain, if you need to depart, we can take care of her. You already have her restrained.”

“Can you handle the other collaborators as well?” Steel asked. He stepped away from Amethyst, and Sabra followed his lead. The mare balanced for a moment before Garnet caught her.

“Not alone,” the crystal pony admitted. “But with the list you gave me, and a few friends ...”

“Some of them may not be believers like this mare here,” Steel said, gesturing at the restrained pony. “Some will be taking bits. Others will be collaborators of circumstance, or because of threats to a loved one. Be careful.”

“Careful?” Garnet let out a laugh. “You leave to take on the mass of Sombra’s Order in combat, and you speak of taking care? It is you and your team that should be careful, captain.”

“Send word to the surrounding areas to be ready,” Steel said to Garnet. “We’ll clear out the Order, then the streets are theirs.”

“Best of luck be with you, Captain Song,” Garnet said, even as Amethyst scowled her displeasure. “And with you as well, Sergeant Triage and … Specialist …” He said the word slowly, as if he were unfamiliar with it. “... Sabra.”

Or perhaps it is just his shock at seeing me to be a zebra, Sabra thought as he gave the stallion a nod. “Bahati njema.” He was glad for a moment that his helmet hid the smile on his face at Garnet’s confused look.

“Dusk Guard, move!” Steel’s command snapped him to attention, and he spun, rearing. All three of them charged out of the station, hooves drumming down the steps and against the paving stones.

Somepony cheered. He wasn’t sure who. But a moment later it was echoed by another. Then another. And another, and the street itself—no, the whole block—was coming alive with cheers as they ran down its length. Doors opened as curious ponies, hiding up until that moment, poked their heads out, ears perking and a faint shimmer moving across their coats as the cheers seemed to roll over them just as much as they did the team.

Then the moment was over, Steel turning them down a side street to cut west across the city, and the faint cheers faded. Still, he had to admit that it had brought with it a good feeling.

Hope, Sabra thought as they ran. We’ve brought them hope. A spark of luster, but a powerful one. An ancient sage had once said that without hope, there could be no faith. No belief. Even faith in themselves, Sabra thought as Steel turned again, taking them south.

There was something else that sage had said about faith and what it could become, what it could do, but he couldn’t recall what it was at the moment.

“Captain,” Dawn said as they turned down a smaller, more narrow street, heading west once more. “I can’t help but notice that you’ve not filled us in on a plan yet. Outside of meeting the Order head on.”

“You’re right,” Steel said, slowing at last, but only to a light gallop. “I haven’t. Or rather, I didn’t. Because I lied.”

“What!?” Dawn snapped her head back. “You—”

“Easy, sergeant,” Steel said. “You’re a doctor. I didn’t entirely lie. We couldn’t stay there and afford to get surrounded. That much is true. And we do need to take down the Order’s power base, which right now is measured in ponies.”

“But …”

“Hang on,” Steel said, glancing in Sabra’s direction. “Sabra can explain it, I’d imagine.”

I can? The hesitation was only with him for a moment before his mind cleared, the captain’s behavior falling into place. Of course I can. “We didn’t have the list of collaborators when the captain announced his plans,” he said as they ran down the street. “Anypony could have been listening in.”

“And running to tell the Order exactly what we were up to,” Steel said, nodding. “Good deduction, Sabra. So we let them know what we want them to know.”

“I understand,” Dawn said. “Misdirection. So we’re not going to strike at the Order army? Will we go for the palace instead?” She nodded at the towering structure at the center of the city. “Take their leadership?”

“It’s not an army, but we are still going after it,” Steel said with a shake of his head. “The lie was meeting them head-on. As confident as I am in our combat capabilities, the rumors Garnet was hearing puts their group at around forty or fifty ponies. Ponies tough enough to take on ancient Royal Guard. Sure, they might have had numbers, but they’re still part of Sombra’s army.”

“So what will we do then?” Dawn asked.

Steel’s eyes suggested he was grinning as he turned to look at Sabra. “Spec?”

Sabra nodded. “We divert. Distract. Divide and conquer.” Old strategies, but effective.

“Exactly.” Steel changed directions once more, this time taking them further north. “Meeting them head-on would be a gamble. I don’t like that. So we cheat. We break the odds in our favor. We pull them apart, cut them off, keep them off-balance.”

“And then strike and deliver the push that brings them to the ground,” Sabra said, nodding.

“Exactly.”

“Very well,” Dawn said. Was it his imagination, or did she look slightly perturbed? “How are we going to do this?”

“Easy,” Steel said, slowing as he turned them into a narrow alley. Ahead of them, several streets away, another Order watchtower poked above the buildings. “We give them a distraction. Several, in fact. Right now, the guard on the roof of that tower has probably seen us coming. And, unless I miss my guess …” As if on cue, a sequence of lights began flashing from the top of the tower.

“Communication lamps,” Sabra said, nodding as he saw the tower for what it was. The Plainslands had used a similar method for centuries.

“Or a horn,” Steel agreed, nodding. “If I’m recalling the map right, we’re still a good mile or so south of … let’s just call them the enemy force. If there’s one thing that’s nice about a large enemy force, it’s—”

“Easy to spot?” Dawn suggested.

“And even harder to move,” Steel answered. “Entire commands have made careers out of not being the best at battle, but being the first to move when the battle was joined. Smaller squads with more independence are more flexible, which is why behind-the-lines operations and flanks can be so effective.”

“Is that what we’re doing?” Dawn asked. “Flanking?”

“No, but that’s what we’re going to make them think,” Steel said, reaching into his saddlebags and pulling out a flare. “Then we move again.” He held the flare out toward Sabra. “Think you can get up into another watchtower without being seen?”

Sabra smiled. “Absolutely.”

“Good,” Steel said, motioning with the flare. He took it. “Knock the guard out, then roll him and the flare down the steps to the tower. After you’ve lit the flare. Then shut the hatch.”

“Thus making the building leak smoke and appear to be on fire,” Dawn said, nodding.

“And?” Steel prompted.

“And even if the Order inside it deals with the problem, even if they’re able to send a message, our foe will have wasted time changing direction.”

“Stringing them out across the city,” Steel finished. “You got it. You deliver the flare, Dawn and I will run interference.”

Sabra snapped a quick salute and slid the flare into his saddlebags, checking to make sure it was secure before moving down that alleyway at a quick gallop. He had flares of his own, but since the captain had volunteered one of his own …

I’ll have to stay low, he thought as he broke across the street, moving quickly for the businesses on the other side. Their doors were closed, shades pulled down tightly over windows. Thankfully, there was another alley to one side, a narrow passage between the structures that likely led to side doors. He took it.

It ended in a wall, deliberately or incidentally, he didn’t know. But it was low enough that he didn’t even need to engage his mod, his own power and the boost of his suit more than enough to see him rise up and over it. He landed in a run, already moving out of the alley and into the next street over.

The watchtower was close now. As was the unicorn at its peak, watching him. He had been noticed.

Good. His being there would lead more credence to the watchtower being under attack.

The unicorn’s horn was flashing again, and he was shouting something. A moment later he vanished from view, more shouts echoing from the top of the tower. It was easy enough to pick out the words “Alarm!” and “Make ready!” as he ducked into an alley once more, the street that met the watchtower directly ahead.

He cut to the side, keeping himself up against a wall as he ran. They’d be able to tell from the sound of his hoofsteps that he was still moving, but hopefully the echoes would keep them from knowing to where.

All he needed to do was get close enough to use the mod. Even if the unicorn at the top of the watchtower saw him coming, there wouldn’t be much he could do about it once he was close enough. Unless he was really powerful.

The shouting atop the tower was taking on a more worried tone, now. The watchpony reacting to their loss of vision on his position. He changed direction again, cutting between two homes as he made for the street. A flash of movement to the side caught his eye—a stunned crystal pony peering out their window in shock at the sight of his armor-clad form leaping past.

He grinned. Keep watching, and you will see far more.

“There!” A bolt of magic shot down from the tower, but he could tell by the angle it wasn’t any threat. The lead was far too poor, his speed to great. There was a sharp hiss from behind as the bolt slammed into the stone, and then he was in an alley once more, several buildings over from the station, walls extending above him.

Exactly what he needed. He kicked out once, then twice, then a third time, rear hooves propelling him upward first from the ground, then from the walls, the final shove pushing him up above the roofline and sending him skipping across the roof of the building, heading for the base of the tower.

Better yet, the move had clearly caught the watchpony off-guard. They were looking to the rear of the alleyway he’d ducked into, horn aglow and at the ready. The surprise wouldn’t last, however. He could already see the unicorn’s ears twitching in his direction, honing in on his movements from the sounds he was making. A turn of the head would follow shortly.

He made his choice in an instant, the purple-lines across his undersuit taking on a reddish-tinge as he activated his mod and shoved, using the edge of a roof to push himself forward. The bound carried him far further than it would have normally, rocketing him forward through the air and over an entire building. He used the next to try and bleed the momentum, skidding across the crystal roofing and managing a hop that carried him across the gap between it and the station roof. Another cry of surprise from above told him that his gambit had worked, though a quick check of the battery level in the corner of his helmet showed that he’d burned a quarter of the mod’s charge with the stunt. Getting up or down had just become a bit more difficult.

He stayed moving, darting around the base of the watchtower and then doubling back before committing to an upward leap that brought him to one of the lower spikes. Another quarter of the battery gone. Another leap, and he was almost at the peak. There was enough charge for one more jump, but after that, the battery would be drained. Getting down would prove interesting.

That journey could wait, however. He took the final jump, aiming for the lip of the tower rail—

A greenish-blue glow snapped into place around him, stalling him only for a second as he slipped past it, but still enough to rob him of his upward momentum even as a shocked cry came from the cupola. He reached out with one hoof as the glow broke apart, catching a protrusion on the side of the tower and heaving with all his might to save what little he could of his last leap.

It was enough. His hoof caught the edge of the rail, and he pulled himself up and over, bringing his other hoof up to guard his face just in case the unicorn had recovered as quickly as he had.

They hadn’t, but only in speed. The second his hooves touched the platform the unicorn charged at him, howling as they brandished a short, brutal looking club in their magic.

His Fimbo was still on his back. He jumped to the side, dodging the first blow, only to have the truncheon switch directions mid-swing and come after him. He blocked it with his forelegs, the impact rolling up his limbs but not enough to cause serious injury.

The truncheon changed directions once more, flipping in the air and coming back far quicker than it would have when handled by an ordinary pony. Magic at work. Powerful and useful, but not something he or the others had neglected training for.

He ducked under the next blow, then jumped up, catching the club with his shoulders as it went past above him and knocking it upward. The unicorn let out a short cry of surprise, horn flashing as they tried to compensate for the abrupt change in direction. By the time they’d regained control, however, Sabra was already moving across the watchtower, forehooves at the ready. Eyes widened, and then his hoof crashed into their chin, the glow around their horn winking out as they flew into the far railing. The truncheon bounced off of his shoulders and skipped across the platform, the magikinetic presence that had been holding it in place gone.

To his surprise, the unicorn did try to rise on shaky limbs, and he gave them two more quick blows to make sure they were down before dragging them over to the central hatch. Like the other tower he’d taken, the inside was dominated by a tight, steep spiral staircase. Unlike the last tower, however, the stairs in this one were occupied. By two other unicorns wearing red-and-black barding, both looking up at him with visible surprise.

“Intru—!” one of them began, horn lighting, only for the body of their comrade to crash into them, cutting off the cry and the magic as all three began tumbling down the steps, crashing out of sight. The trio were followed a moment later by the flare, bouncing down the steps behind them, spitting light and smoke. He shut the watchtower hatch, then after a moment’s pause, slid the heavy iron latch shut from the outside. Smoke was already drifting free out of the cracks. Hopefully the inhabitants of the tower would be in too much chaos to do much about it too quickly.

He could hear fighting in the street. The interference the captain had promised. But it was interference, not an outright assault. The sounds were already retreating. He had his window.

The mod was still only partially charged. He glanced over the side of the watchtower long enough to see that Captain Song and Dawn were retreating east, and then jumped, aiming for one of the larger support spikes. His hooves slipped a bit as he landed, and he shifted his weight as he dropped again, aiming for the next one. Again he skipped off of the side, his armored hooves sliding over the slick crystal and speed increasing as he dropped again. He missed the third spike he’d wanted to land on entirely, overshooting and falling past it. The roof of the station rushed up at him.

He activated his mod, strength pulsing through him as the roof neared.

The impact was enough to jar his teeth, his four hooves slamming into the crystal hard enough he was surprised the material didn’t crack, even as he did his best to redirect the momentum into a forward roll. It worked … sort of. The impact wasn’t quite enough to knock the breath from him, but as he came out of the roll and jumped the gap to the next roof, he could feel a dull ache mixed with a stinging sensation rolling up his hooves like a slow tide. Once the stinging faded, he’d want to check for any real injury, but at the moment nothing felt damaged.

He risked a glance back at the station as he ran, and was met with the sight of smoke drifting out of the tower and into the air. Hopefully it had the intended effect. Even if the occupants were able to signal the rest of the towers, it would still keep the larger Order force off-balance.

In fact, the smoke looked quite thick. A lot thicker than he would have expected from a single flare. He slid down the roof of the next building, catching sight of the captain and Dawn waiting in a nearby alleyway.

“It’s done,” he said as he ran up to meet them. “Though there is more smoke than I expected.”

“Flares burn pretty hot,” Dawn said. “It may have set something on fire.”

“Or those three fire spells you threw through the front door as we left might have had something to do with it,” Steel added.

Dawn shrugged. “The door was open. If we’re not going to take down the station or secure it, I figured it might as well be even more convincing.”

“No, it was a good idea,” Steel said, nodding. “Let’s do it at the next one if we can too. The more tied-up these towers get, the easier our job will be, and the more strung-out that large force will end up.”

His eyes shifted to Sabra. “You good?”

He tested his hooves and then nodded. “No injuries.”

“Good. The next station is about a half-a-mile to the north, and east of here. Let’s get moving.” He turned and began galloping down the alleyway without waiting for a reply, and Sabra settled into a steady gallop alongside him, Dawn matching their speed on Steel’s other side.

Behind them, a cloud of smoke bled into the sky.

* * *

They were nearing the third watchtower, the second having gone down much in the same pattern as the first, when they finally saw signs of their foe reacting to their efforts. Sabra almost came to a stop, his first instinct to duck back into the alley they’d just left, but then Nova’s training took hold, his movement continuing across the street. A sudden change of direction is more noticeable than motion that follows the same course. Or something like that, anyway.

He reached the alley on the far side, less an alley than it was a space between two homes, and looked back across the street. Dawn and the captain were just coming through the alley he’d left, charging at a hard gallop. He held up both his hooves, waving for the pair to stop, then pointed down the street he’d just crossed in the direction of the marching Order group.

The pair came to a halt, Steel nodding to show he’d gotten the message, and then crouched, putting his body low to the ground before peering around the corner. A moment later he pulled back, rose, and waved to Dawn. Both of them ran across the street in a quick, almost furtive manner.

“Looks like about a dozen or so of them,” Steel said as he entered the alley. He glanced around the corner again. “None of them appear to have noticed us. Or care if they did spot us. Then again, we do look a bit like oddly-colored crystal ponies at a distance, wearing all this armor.”

“So they’re moving to reinforce the next watchtower?” Dawn asked.

The captain nodded. “Looks like it.”

“Should we go elsewhere then?”

“What? No!” Steel shook his head. “We run ahead and hit it before they show up. Show them they’ve got reason to be splitting. Then we circle back in the direction of the Guard and start taking down any Order we find.”

“Understood,” Dawn said as they began to move forward again. “Then we will need to move quickly. The watchtower isn’t—”

A rumbling, low tone rolled through the city, so low Sabra almost felt he could feel the crystal vibrating beneath his hooves. It was long and loud, like the largest horn he could ever recall hearing, and as he looked around, trying to find the source, he saw it.

The peak of the crystal … tower? Palace? Whatever it was, it was glowing, light pulsing from deep within the structure. As he watched, beams of light began to shine up around it, and then, to his great surprise, a giant head took shape in the air, the head of a grey unicorn with dark eyes and a shawl of white fur around his neck. His horn, Sabra noted, had been dyed red. The image was slightly transparent, clearly a spell of some kind, but it was there. Then, it began to speak.

“Citizens of the Crystal Empire.” The voice echoed all around them, so loud it seemed to almost come from the very stones. Beside him, Steel and Dawn had come to a stop, both also staring at the titanic image floating above the crystal spire.

“By now you may have heard the rumors,” the voice continued. “Voices that flit through the city like bats on a summer storm, bringing with them fear and discontent. You may have heard that our King, Lord Sombra, has fallen. That this grand city itself was thrust away from the world for a time, and now that we have returned, Equestrians walk the city streets.”

“These words are lies,” the figure said, eyes narrowing to slits. “Our king has not fallen, and will soon return to us from his battle with the immortal tyrants. This city has not fallen through time, but stands as a testament to its people and of its king. What we saw was our mighty king exhausting his very self to protect us all from the wrath of the immortals.”

“And these ‘Equestrians,’ while real, do not freely wander the streets of our mighty city. They slink from place to place, like rats carrying disease, striking where they can and retreating to the shadows like craven wretches, seeking to bring our great city down from within. They are enemies of the natural order,” the unicorn continued. “Any who would aid them or seek to grant them shelter should be warned: To turn against the ponies of this city, against our great ruler, is treason, and a high price will be had for those found guilty of such crimes.”

“The Order is strong,” the voice continued. “We stand as one, and against these unrighteous aggressors, we will stand firm. Those who do not shy from their place or their role in the natural order of things find great honor and reward in holding strong, and together, the order will overcome all who would seek to weaken it.”

“If you see these ‘Equestrians,’ avoid them. They mean you harm, they mean the ponies of this city harm. They will tear down everything we have risen to if given the chance, in the name of false tyrants born to power and privileges abused. They are violent and dangerous. Stay indoors, or alert your nearest watch station. Do not speak with them. Do not trust them.”

“United, the natural order will stand strong.” The image of the unicorn winked out, the bright glow of the crystal palace beneath it fading.

“Their ‘natural order’ sounds a lot like speciesism,” Dawn said, her tone clearly shoved through a jaw tight with anger. “Remind me when we take the tower again?”

“After we’ve dealt with their other allies,” Steel said, his own tone sounding somewhat dark. “But you’re not wrong. Still, we can deal with them later. Let’s get moving and—”

“You there!” A loud voice from behind them cut the captain off. A unicorn in red-and-black barding was standing just inside the end of the alley. “What business do you—?” His voice cut off in a gasp of strangled surprise, eyes going wide with realization. “You—!”

An orange glow settled over his body, cutting off his yell and then yanking him forward with a suddenness that seemed to shock him further. He came to rest in the air before Dawn, her horn glowing so brightly with orange that it seemed to fill the small alleyway, and then the stallion’s eyes rolled back, the body going limp in the air.

“Oww …” Dawn said, rubbing at her horn with one hoof as soon as she’d lowered the stallion to the ground. “I’m not used to that much magic rushing through my horn at once.”

“Don’t burn out,” Steel said, kneeling next to the body. “Unconscious?”

She nodded. “A silence spell so he couldn’t shout, followed by basic magikinesis—though in large force—and a sleep spell usually used before applying an anesthetic. He’ll awake soon, though due to the mod I’m not sure how soon.”

“Do you have anything that can keep him unconscious?”

“Nothing that I wouldn’t rather keep in case one of us needs it.”

“Right,” Steel said with a nod before looking at Sabra. “Scout ahead. Stay down, don’t get caught. Then rotate back for us. We’ll shove this guy someplace he won’t be found and catch up, before his comrades come looking for him.”

“Good idea,” Sabra heard Dawn say as he turned and ran for the end of the alley. “One of their own just disappearing should bring a little fear into their minds. That I can get behind.”

He passed the next street at a run, only barely catching a glimpse of the Order one street down as he did so. They appeared motionless. Maybe they’re waiting for their scout.

Or, he thought, another of the team’s lessons coming into his mind. Maybe they’re an illusion, and they’re moving on the three of us already. He slowed, ears coming up at the alert. The Night Guard team that had pulled that trick had declared it one of limited use, but useful nonetheless.

Still … he wasn’t hearing anything. Not that it meant there wasn’t an invisible assassin lurking around, the sound of their passage hidden by magic. But that meant more than one spell, or a heavily-specialized spell, at least according to what he knew of magic. And true invisibility was difficult.

It is a shame Hunter took the magic-detecting modification with him, he thought as he moved forward. It would be most helpful right now.

Then again it would likely give away his own position away at the same time. But if it came down to being surrounded by invisible, silent enemies and relatively hidden, and knowing about said enemies but knowing where they were …

He shook his head as he crossed another street. He was letting himself get distracted. Stay focused. Scout the route ahead. If the group he’d seen were indeed the actual Order ponies, then they were waiting for the moment, though likely not for much longer. Though if they wanted to find their missing member, they’d either have to divert or split up.

Either approach would work well for us, Sabra thought as he jumped a small fence, cutting through what looked like a meager, half-starved garden. The more divided they become, the easier it will be to cut them down. Like a scythe through a field of grain.

He hopped the fence on the far side, darting across the next street and into another alley between two homes. It was fairly wide, more an extension of the street than anything else, with space for perhaps a single cart, but it was an alley nonetheless.

The watchtower was only a few blocks away, rising above the surrounding homes like a lonely pine atop a mountain of bare rock. It was shorter than the other towers they’d seen so far, though it appeared to have the same number of spikes. Perhaps it sits atop a shorter building? It made sense, given the number of tight homes around him. The area was clearly residential.

Where did they get their food? he wondered as he moved closer to the tower. His eyes had caught sight of a few empty-shelved markets as they had moved through the city, but nothing so much as resembling an agricultural base. Was it imported? Outside the city and left behind when the seal fell?

I hope we don’t save them only to see the city collapse in starvation. He chased the thought from his mind almost as soon as it had come. The Princesses wouldn’t stand for that.

The watchtower was getting closer, and he began to slow, picking his route with greater care. A block from the station he stopped, waiting and glancing back to see if the captain and Dawn had found their way to him, or if he would need to return. He waited, watching, only for a faint tap to reach his ears.

He turned, alarmed at first, only to lock eyes with a curious-looking crystal pony filly standing at a nearby window, one hoof holding the cloth that had covered it back. Her wide, blue eyes were fixed on him, her expression somewhere between shock and wonder. They matched her mane, a crystalline blue color that reminded him of Sky.

For a moment they stared at one another, the filly’s expression moving from surprise to confusion, and then curiosity. Slowly, he reached up and put a hoof in front of his mouth, quietly hoping that the sign for silence when the empire had vanished was close to what it was now. She cocked her head to one side, ears twitching from side to side, but her eyes never leaving his face.

He took a quick look around, but saw no one. Then, slowly he reached up and unbuckled his helmet, sliding it upwards. The filly’s mouth fell open in a small, round circle as he pulled the helmet free and gave her a smile.

She smiled back, coat and eyes almost seeming to shimmer with happiness. Again he gave her a motion for silence, this time from his homeland, tapping his mouth twice with his hoof and then drawing it across his muzzle as if sealing it. The tiny filly nodded excitedly, mane bobbing. He smiled again, then lowered the helmet back down over his head, securing it in place. The filly mouthed something at him—probably goodbye—waved, and then ducked out of sight, the cloth falling back over the window in her wake.

It would appear not everyone listens to the Order, he thought as he pulled his eyes away from where the filly had disappeared. With hope, others will share her trust.

He could hear hoofsteps coming from the south. Muffled slightly, but hoofsteps all the same. He turned to the alley he’d come through, waiting to see who appeared.

It was Dawn, and the captain, though they popped out of a space just further east from the one he’d used. He rose and lifted his hoof, catching their eyes with a quick wave.

“Good news,” Steel said once he’d crossed the street. “That Order force is delaying themselves looking for their friend.”

“Will they find him?”

Dawn smiled. “Depends on how quickly they’re willing to look in the nearest public garbage can. Granted, he might wake up, but then they’ll have to get him out.”

“In other words, we’ve bought a few extra minutes to hit this watchtower,” Steel continued. “Same as before. Flare. Some fires. Enough to keep them busy and off-balance.”

Sabra nodded. And this will be the last one. “Let’s get it done.”

Several minutes later, a third column of smoke was climbing into the sky above the city.

Chapter 15

View Online

The Hummingbird rattled as another gust of wind rolled across its envelope, shaking the cockpit and forcing Hunter to reach for the sidewall again to steady himself.

“Sorry,” Sky Bolt said, her eyes flicking toward him only for a moment before darting back to the control panel. He didn’t question her focus one bit. “This wind is pretty bad.”

“Not disagreeing,” he said as the airship continued to shake. “So much for setting this thing down.”

“Not. Happening,” Bolt said as a particularly violent gust swept over the ship, the deck seeming to drop out from beneath Hunter’s hooves before rising back up like some sort of swelling wave. “I’m getting a lot of crosscurrent; the glacier must have its own wind.”

“Drop then?”

She nodded. “Drop.”

“Great.” At least Nova’s really good at climbing ropes. He didn’t want to think about how much more difficult a drop would be had Steel taken Nova and left him with Sabra. Sabra was talented at many things … but knots and ropes were still one of his weaker areas.

They were close enough now that he could see the strange crystal without need for a pair of binoculars, though it still wasn’t much to look at. Its tip only poked maybe a foot or so above the ice around it. How far down it went, he couldn’t say. Whether or not it was connected to their quarry, again the same answer.

On the one hoof, no sense in making a beat-up about it, just in case. On the other … Well, it was check the crystal, or go back and look for yeti tracks. And of those two things, I know which I’d rather do.

“We’re almost there,” Bolt said, turning her head from the instruments. “You’d better gear up and get ready to jump. I’m going to try and bring us as close as we can. Once I see you outside, I’ll pull back.”

“Don’t go too far.” He felt a faint shiver crawl down his spine as he looked at the crystal once more. “If this turns out to be nothing, we might want to get back aboard.”

“I won’t,” Bolt said. “I’m going to go up a bit, but I don’t plan on leaving anywhere. If you pop a flare, I’ll come down to pick you up. I’ll try and keep an eye on things with the spotlights too, see if I can’t help.”

He nodded. “For future reference, we need to work out some kind of way to communicate with a team on the ground.”

“Already thinking about it.”

“And speaking-pipes or something for those of us in the ship.”

She nodded again. “I know. I thought since the ship was so small, and we’d be using it to get around, well … That one’s on me. I’ll look at it as soon as we get back.”

“All I can ask.” There wasn’t much point in saying anything else. She’d already acknowledged the oversight. “I’m going to go get geared up.” He started to turn, but then paused and glanced back at Bolt. “Don’t bring us down right on top of it. Try …” He looked out the window, his eyes darting over the ice. “There,” he said, pointing. “Just below it. There might be more crevices around that bit of crystal, and I’d rather not land on them.”

“Got it.” Bolt shifted the control yokes, The Hummingbird vibrating as it fought the winds and turned. “Let me know when you’re ready to jump.”

The Hummingbird jerked again as he stepped back into the main cabin, metallic scrapes and pings reaching his ears as the safety gear they brought out earlier slid around on the tabletop. He reached out with one hoof, catching hold of the climbing harness as it slid by, and began putting it over the exterior of his armor. Several times he was forced to adjust it, the strips that made up the harness catching on the crystal plates and refusing to slide into the proper position.

One more thing to note in the after-action report, he thought as he finally got the harness into position, tightening the material down and locking it in place over his armor. It didn’t quite fit right, but a few tugs didn’t suggest it would slide off or put him in a wonky position the moment he put any pressure on it. The armor isn’t set up for climbing gear. Maybe that was something Bolt could work on for the next iteration of the armor.

Because there’s going to be one, he thought, stepping over to his locker and grabbing his saddlebags. They were stuffed to the brim, sides tight with the amount of materiel he was bringing along. Much of it cannibalized from one of the winter survival kits. Might as well get as much into the design as we can.

Saddlebags secure, the weight within them resting as equally and comfortably on his back as he could manage it, he turned back to the locker once more and brought out a safety line. It and the other climbing gear he could attach to the harness, where they would be accessible but—if secured properly—out of the way.

Flares, rope, ice axe … He ran down the list. Only thing left is … His eyes came up, locking on the tan Stetson sitting in his locker. My hat.

Part of him wanted to reach out, to plop it down around his head like he always had. Where it belonged.

Except … between the heavy winds and the magic-repelling nature of his armor, there was a high chance he’d find it swept away.

I can’t do that. Not with Swift’s gift. He shut the locker door, his eyes lingering on the hat until it was out of sight. When the locker let out a final click, he let a faint sigh echo in alongside it. It still doesn’t feel right, but … I’d rather not lose it. Losing it would feel almost as bad as losing Swift.

Focus. He gave his head a little shake, turning away from the locker. You’ve got a mission. Find a shade. Track the shade. Keep it from getting back to the Crystal Empire.

And, you know, don’t die. That one hadn’t been said, but he put it up on the list all the same. Iceworms, frostwolves, yeti, crevasses, and the giant, ripper of a storm. Plenty of dangerous stuff out there.

He grinned beneath his helmet. That’s what we’re for, after all. And yeti, while dangerous, had nothing on a golem.

He made a final check of his equipment, stretching his limbs and spreading his wings to make certain that he still had a full range of motion, as well as to see that nothing was hanging loose or improperly attached.

“How’s it looking?” he called as he dropped all four hooves back to the deck, satisfied with his work.

“How do you feel about an airlift?” Bolt called back.

He grimaced. “That bad, huh?”

“Yup! I really don’t want to leave this thing on autopilot and go shut the door. Or leave a rope flapping around out there. Weighted or not, there’s a chance it could end up in the props. The wind is really bad. We’re barely making any headway, and we’re at half-throttle.”

“Crikey.” That was strong wind. “All right. Airlift it is. I’ll tell Nova the ‘good’ news.”

“Let me know when you’re going to drop. I’ll turn us sideways so you’re out of the worst of the wind, but we’ll drift a bit as a result. Don’t forget to close the door on your way out!”

“Understood!” He headed for the hall, his hooves spread wide in advance of any sudden jerks from their ride. That means we’ll drift down the glacier as we’re getting us off, so we’ll land a bit further south than we planned.

Still, as long as they didn’t land in a crevice, or past some deep gorge in the ice, that’d be okay. And if they did, well … We’ll just have to deal with it.

Nova was standing by the door, already clad in his full armor and saddlebags just as tightly packed as Hunter’s at his sides. He was sitting on his haunches, a heavy, coiled-and-weighted rope looped around his forelegs. One end terminated in a bulbous knot holding a lead weight. The other was attached to a heavy-looking swing-arm by the hatch.

“Finally!” Nova said, spotting him. “We moving?”

“Almost,” Hunter said. “In a moment. You won’t need the rope, though.”

Nova shifted slightly. “We landing?”

“Nope. Airdrop.”

For a moment Nova was quiet, then he shrugged. “Well, that’s easier for me.”

“Until we land.”

“True. You’re going to be the one carrying all the weight, though. We’re not traveling light.”

“Just don’t poke me with your horn and I think we’ll be alright.”

“No promises.” A yellow glow disconnected the rope from the arm and coiled the excess end back up. A moment later the coil was back out of sight, secure in a small cubby near the door. “Now?”

“No,” Hunter said as the deck tilted underhoof. “I just came back to let you know. I’ll head back up to the—”

A sudden gust of wind mixed with a furious cascade of sounds that he only recognized after it was gone as hoofbeats so rapid they’d blended as one ripped down the hall, and he spun to see Bolt standing there, the glimmer in her eyes suggesting she was grinning beneath her helmet.

“Speed mod,” she said. “Not a perfect solution, but I can leave my baby on autopilot for a few seconds—” The deck tilted beneath them, and her eyes widened. “Maybe not. We’re there! Jump! And don’t forget to close the door behind you!” She was gone in a blur, air rushing about in her wake, and a moment later the deck tilted back, though not all the way.

Hunter looked over at Nova. “That’s it then. You ready for a walkabout?”

“Hey, you’re flying. I’m ready when you are.”

“Get the door.” The wind almost felt like a physical wall as it swept in, the door swinging open with what would have likely been a very loud bang if not for the inhibitors that kept it from doing so. Snow swept through the entryway, rushing past him and down the hall.

“Timer set?” Hunter called. Nova’s horn flashed once, then twice.

“It’s set,” he called. “Thirty seconds!”

“Just like we practiced, then!”

Nova nodded and stepped up to the door, resting on his haunches and gripping the sides of the open hatchway with his forehooves. Hunter stepped up behind him, putting his chest against the unicorn’s back and wrapping his forelegs around Nova’s chest.

“One …” he counted.

“Two …” Nova said with him.

“Three!” They both kicked out at the same time, pushing their bodies out of the hatch and away from the side of The Hummingbird. Hunter spread his wings, green lines pulsing down his undersuit as his pegasus magic flared to keep him flying steady against the wind. It was difficult enough sometimes to fly carrying another pony. Add in the extra weight of all their gear, plus the wind …

They fell below the protective bulk of the airship, and a new wall of wind slammed into him with the force of a runaway wagon, shoving them both away from The Humminbird and across the glacier. He spread his wings as wide as he dared, keeping their descent upright and even as best he could, but otherwise not fighting against the wind as they descended. It was the best he could do.

The ground was rushing up at them far quicker than he would have liked. He beat his wings harder, not stopping them, but at least slowing their descent and rate of travel. Twenty feet. Fifteen. Ten.

“Ready to drop!” he called. The wind whipped his words away even as he spoke them. Hopefully Nova had heard him.

Five feet! He let go, releasing his hold on Nova and letting the colt fall. Free of the sudden weight, his own flight path began to rise once more, and he tilted his wings to the side, tucking them and letting himself drop as he turned.

The wind was less powerful on the surface of the glacier, but not by much. A thin crust of snow crunched beneath his hooves as he landed, and he waited a moment, wings at the ready in case the surface gave way, but it held, and better yet felt solid.

He turned to see Nova standing on solid ice as well. The unicorn’s horn lit with a glow, a safety line from his harness trailing out across the ice and over to Hunter. He took it in his hoof as it neared and clipped it to the back of his harness. The line was thin but extremely strong, more than capable of holding the weight of several ponies. A small spring coil would keep it constantly tight as well, allowing them to move freely. As long as they didn’t want to go more than twenty feet from one another.

Safety line attached, Nova was already at work attaching small, metal, cleated horseshoes to the underhooves of his suit, and Hunter dug into his own bags, bringing out his own set and clipping them into place. A spotlight washed over him as he finished, and he looked up at the side of The Hummingbird, giving Sky Bolt a wave.

“You good?” he called over his shoulder as the spotlight moved away, the roar of the airship’s propellers changing pitch. It began to climb up and away from the glacier.

“I’m good!” Nova called back, his words faint under the howl of the wind. “You?”

“Good enough to start moving!” If only so we don’t freeze to death. The wind felt colder than it had been the last time he’d been outside, but then again, that had been on the edge of the Crystal Empire, not a glacier. “I’ll lead! You follow!”

“Works for me!”

Hunter nodded and took a quick look around, eyes locking on the distant crystal. It was further away than he’d wanted it to be. Looks like that wind pushed us faster than I thought. Snow caught at the edges of his visor, melting and streaming away off to the sides. He’d have to watch for ice-build up. He took his first step, hooves crunching against the thin surface-layer of the glacier. The sound was almost impossible to hear over the howl of the wind and the distant drone of The Hummingbird.

Well, it’s not ideal, he thought as he began to move forward, taking a slow but steady pace. It’s stroppy going, but it could be a lot worse. A glance back showed that Nova was following in his hoofsteps, keeping close without being near enough that they were both at risk should something go wrong.

They marched forward, step after step, moving up the glacier’s face toward the distant crystal. The surface was rough and craggy, like a sheets of a pastry that had been frosted and then rolled between hooves until you could see each flaky layer. More than once the ice threatened to give way beneath Hunter’s hooves, and he was forced to step back, away from a thin crust of snow that concealed a break in the glacier that was who knew how deep. More than once it fell away anyway after it was disturbed, thin flakes of frost breaking away to be carried off in the wind or, in one case, falling out of sight down a narrow crevasse, though thankfully one small enough he could step over it. Only after he’d checked the ground on the other side, of course.

They were halfway to the distant crystal when the first moan rent the air. It started low, so low it almost wasn’t audible, but a deep groan that seemed to resonate through the ice, swelling and building in an eerie counterpart the the howling wind. The sound seemed to echo on forever, a long, low tone like the cry of a giant before fading out with a dying gasp. Faint pinpricks clawed their way down Hunter’s spine as the sound faded.

“You know,” Nova called from behind him. “I can see why no one would want to explore this place. That just plain felt weird!”

“Spiders crawling down your back?” Hunter called, putting a hoof forward once more.

“More like centipedes. That was eerie!”

“No disagreement here!” he called, glancing back at Nova. The unicorn was about ten feet back, his body hunched against the howling winds. “How’re you doing?”

Nova lifted a hoof and waggled it from side to side. “Cold, but not bad!”

“Good!” He turned and began making his way forward again, striding into the wind, wings tight against his sides. He could see ice already formed at the edges of his visor, molten snow and wind having worked together to leave their trace. Ice was starting to build at the front of his muzzle, too, each breath adding a new sheen to the grating.

Overhead, The Hummingbird had taken up a holding pattern. Or, at least as close as Bolt could get it given the weather. It was sitting about a hundred feet up, bobbing in the wind.

Every so often, a faint flash would cross the landscape, a distant bolt of lightning arcing across the horizon. The distant cracks were impossible to hear over the storm, but the occasional flashes of light were welcome.

Almost there. He could see the tip of the crystal clearly now, it’s dark surface reflecting the occasional glimmer of lightning. It was hard to tell at a distance, but it almost looked as though there wasn’t even a dusting of snow on it, like it was somehow untou—

The ground gave way beneath him, and he snapped his wings out, the wind filling them and sending him flying back. He tucked them in almost instantly, but still found himself flying through the air, back across the glacier. He twisted, trying to bring his hooves under him and—

Slammed into an orange barrier just above the surface of the glacier, hard enough that he let out an “Oomph!” of surprise.

“Well what do you know?” Nova said as Hunter tumbled to the ice, staring up at the sky. “Looks like it’s good for catching ponies … but not wind. Huh. Good to know!”

“What would you have done if it did catch wind?” Hunter asked, pushing himself up on his hooves as Nova dispelled the shield.

“Probably see how much lift I could get out of it!” Nova replied, holding out a hoof to help him up. Hunter took it, careful to avoid the cleats. “You never know when you might need a temporary hang-glider. Or a parachute!”

“You should run that by Bolt once we’re back on The Hummingbird,” Hunter said, checking to make sure that the safety line had done its job. Thankfully, he wasn’t tangled in it, and none of his other gear had shifted in the brief tumble. “Something tells me there’s a way to do it. Some sort of parachute could come in handy!”

“Later!” Nova called. “I saw you drop. Gorge?”

“Gap at least. Wasn’t paying attention. Bodgy of me.”

“It happens.”

“Well, at least you were paying attention. Quick thinking with that shield.”

“Hey, it’s me.”

He rolled his eyes at Nova’s statement, turning his gaze back forward, looking for the bit that had given way.

Nothing. He frowned. I didn’t just dream it up. He took a few steps forward, watching as the gap he’d almost fallen into revealed itself. Good. I’m not going snowmad.

The gap was lowered, so much so it was almost camouflaged unless one was almost on top of it. The ice to either side rose, another peak in the frosted pastry layers, before plunging into an abyss that dropped at least a hundred feet down, maybe more. It was also far too wide to step across.

“We’ll have to go around!” he called, motioning at the gap. Nova nodded. “No telling how long it is!”

“Can’t you fly over?”

“Sure. Can you float over?”

“I could climb. You could anchor me.”

Hunter shook his head. “Not worth the risk! We go around if at all possible!”

They broke east first, since the gap looked narrower in that direction. It was slow going; there was no guarantee that the gap hadn’t widened past where the snow had broken away. He probed each hoofstep as they moved, checking to see if the thin crust fell away beneath him. Twice the chasm seemed to narrow … only to widen once more and force a slight retreat. But finally, after traveling what turned out to have only been a hundred feet or so, but felt far longer, the chasm narrowed enough that they were able to step across and move to the ice beyond.

“Hold up!”

Hunter turned to look back at Nova. “What?”

“Ice check.”

He glanced down at the ice build-up around his muzzle. “Oh. Thanks!” A solid hit with his hoof knocked it free, ice crystals flying away in the harsh winds. Nova did the same, a blow of his own shaking the ice loose and scattering it across the glacier.

“Not what you pictured when you signed on, is it?” Nova called as Hunter turned.

“No,” he called back. “But at least it isn’t boring.” Though there is something to be said for too interesting. The spotlight swept over them both once more, and he glanced up, pausing to check if Bolt was trying to warn them of something. The lights on the outside of The Hummingbird stayed the same, however, and so he resumed his forward pace.

The closer they came to the strange shard, the rougher the surface of the glacier seemed to become. He was forced to watch each step, to check to make certain that his cleats were secure before pushing ahead. The ice ahead him was riddled with cracks. And, he noted, largely free of snow, save in the deepest cracks and crevices.

Wait a moment. He slowed, peering out at the terrain before them. No, that’s definitely what it looks like.

“What?” Nova called from behind, a faint yellow glow reflecting off of the snow and ice as the unicorn lit his horn. “What is it?”

“The glacier,” he called back, his words carried on the wind. “There’s something under it. Or at least there was!” He pointed, outlining the faint rise in the ice around the odd, dark crystal, invisible from the air. “See it?”

Nova stepped alongside him and nodded. “You think it pushed its way out?”

“It’s possible. Could mean that the ice is unstable, though.” He tilted his head, trying to get the light to catch at the ice from different angles. “Some of that could just be sitting over an empty space now, depending on how it all settled.”

“You want me to take it?”

He shook his head. “No, you stay here and be an anchor, just in case.” He stomped a hoof for emphasis. “It’s a good possie. I’ll check it out. Pull me back if there’s trouble.”

“Got it.” Nova spread his hooves, faint pops echoing up from the ice as he dug his cleats in, the sound barely audible over the shrill winds.

Okay, here we go. He took each step slowly but carefully, not quite as lightly as he had when the ice had been covered by snow, but still light enough that he could duck back if needed. Nice and easy. One step, and then another. Ice shifted before him, dropping, and he tensed, but it only dropped a few inches before coming to a halt with a grinding moan.

Not helping. He could feel a faint unease working its way through him, crawling through his limbs and down his back like a slow, rolling bath of ice water. He took the next few steps carefully, pausing to make certain that the ice beneath him was stable before moving even closer to the crystal.

He was close enough now to get a good look at it. The cracks in the glacier around it definitely suggested that it had come from below the ice, forcing its way up, and recently. Within the last day, if he were to guess by the snow build-up. Maybe even the last few hours. Pretty positive proof that it’s tied to the Crystal Empire. Another shiver worked its way down his spine as he took a closer look at the crystal’s surface. And yet there’s no ice or snow on it. It looked completely pristine. Untouched.

He moved a few steps closer, carefully picking his way across the ice. The crystal had definitely shoved its way up from within the glacier, there was no doubting it now. A shiver rolled down his spine, not from cold, but from nervous energy. Where it had come from, he wasn’t sure. Maybe the ice? There was just something … unsettling in the air.

There. He was close enough now to peer down around the crack around the tip of the crystal, down into the gap between the glacier ice driven by the wedge. Light blossomed around him as The Hummingbird’s spotlight centered on him, and he let out a faint whistle.

As far down as the crevasse went, so did the crystal, growing upwards like a jagged spire.

“Well?” Nova called.

“Goes down at least a few dozen feet. The crystal goes all the way too.” He took a step back, away from the edge. Oddly enough, a faint sense of vertigo seemed to be moving through him, one that didn’t move away when he did.

Nerves, he told himself. Don’t get aggro just because this is weird. It’s sus, but given everything else that goes on, there’s a chance it’s not even related. Satisfied that the ice wasn’t about to drop out from beneath him, he stepped a bit closer to the crystal, shoving his hoof-cleats deep into the ice so that they wouldn’t slip, and took a closer look at the crystal itself.

It definitely looks like the ones beneath Canterlot, he thought as he watched the light play over its dark surface. Just … black. Well … sorta grey. But black right there, and … He paused. No, that was black a moment ago. Am I seeing things, or is the surface … Shifting?

He held himself still for a moment, locking his body as he stared down at the crystal. The unsettled feeling was even stronger now, a slow surge of energy through his body, like the calm before the rush of adrenaline as he looked past the flashes of distant lightning, past the spotlight, right at the crystal itself.

It was shifting. Not the crystal itself, but the color inside it, the darkest patch of black shifting and moving right before his very eyes, pulsing and flowing across the surface like oil. The crystal around it, while still dark, seemed almost grey by comparison, though pulling his eyes away from the shifting darkness showed it was definitely still a dark shade of crystal.

He swallowed, a faint, nervous tremble working its way down his shoulders and into his wings. This … This is weird. His eyes stayed on the shifting mass, watching as it moved inside the crystal like smoke. Or was it on the surface? It was hard to tell.

Another shiver ran down his spine, the hairs on the back of his neck prickling. Even his wings wanted to extend, to fluff up and make themselves look larger, and he frowned, tearing his eyes away from the crystal. Something’s wrong. He took a step back, his hooves crunching into the ice.

“Hunter?” Nova called, and he could hear the alarm in the unicorn’s voice. “What is it?”

“Something’s wrong,” he called, taking another step back. The unsettling feeling in his gut faded, his body relaxing. He took a step forward, and it returned. Back. It was gone again.

“Nova?” he called. “I think this is more your territory than mine!”

“What makes you say that?”

“Magic!” He glanced back at the unicorn, standing on solid ground. “Whatever this thing is, it’s got some sort of emotional field on it. It’s making me feel … alarmed.” He fanned his wings carefully, working some of the tension out of them, lines in his suit flaring as his magic kept him from lifting off in the wind. Nova shook his head as if he’d said something, but the howling wind cut him off. “What was that?”

“Like fear?” Nova took a few steps forward. “Terror?”

“No?” He glanced at the crystal again. “More like … unease. Fight-or-flight response. It’s not as bad right here, but there’s definitely something up with it.”

“Hang on. I’ll come to you.”

“Watch your step. Follow my tracks.” He brought his gaze back to the crystal. The black substance that was … In it? On it? He couldn’t say for sure. But it had sunk back, almost below the level of the surrounding ice. Still no guarantee that this is related to the Crystal Empire, but … Sealed king, black crystal … It does fit. The crystal seemed to pulse again as a bolt of lightning flashed through the sky, and he frowned. So if it is … now what do we do? Dig it out? Take it with us? Arrest it? His eyes slipped back to the dark cloud moving along its surface. And is that magic? A curse? That fear aura? He shook his head. We found something weird … but now what?

“Okay, yeah, that’s definitely magic,” Nova said, stepping slowly up beside him, his horn glowing. “It’s not like anything I’ve encountered before, but …” The yellow light at the end of his horn went out. “That’s definitely magic.”

“Well, at least I’m not cracking a fruity and getting scared by a hunk of rock,” Hunter said.

Nova shook his head. “No, it’s definitely magic of some kind. I can feel it. Be glad we’re suited up, or the effect would be a lot worse.” A distant bolt of lightning lit the glacier once more, a rumble following in its wake a few seconds later. “So … now what?”

“You’re the magic user. Any ideas?”

“Well …” Nova took another step forward. “It’s coming from the crystal, but it’s not a very powerful spell. It feels like … a cloud. No, fog. But it’s constant.” He took another step forward, and a shiver rolled down his back. “That’s creepy. Certainly fits the M.O. of our guy. At the same time …” His voice trailed off, lost to the shrill winds.

“At the same time what?” Hunter asked.

“It might not be,” Nova said, horn glowing faintly once more, as his head turned just enough so that he could glance in Hunter’s direction. “There’s magic coming from that crystal, but also going into it. I can’t tell if the fear effect we’re feeling is part of that or not.”

“What do you mean?”

“The crystal!” Nova called, pointing at the jutting tip. “There’s magic going into it and coming out. It could be that it’s a trap for a renegade spell of some kind, and we’re just feeling the ambient bleed. Or … it could be something else entirely.”

“What if I took a look at it?”

“What, you mean with your mod?”

“Yeah. Would I be able to tell?”

Nova tilted his head to one side, eyes narrowing. “Maybe? It lets you see ambient and innate magic, right?”

“Yeah.”

“You might be able to pick out something,” Nova said. “I mean, we can sit here and come up with ideas if you don’t want to do that, but I’m not much of a mage, remember?”

“Well, it’s not a trap, right?”

Nova shook his head again. “If anything, it feels more like a funnel. Not a strong one, but it’s definitely pulling some ambient magic into itself.”

“Well …” Hunter took a quick look around, including up at The Hummingbird. “I guess it’s that or throw rocks at it. We can save that for step two.”

“Very scientific.”

“Hey, I’m making this up as I go along. For all we know, this is completely unrelated, and we’re just standing here chinwagging while an ancient evil unicorn walks back to do battle with the rest of the team.”

“Yeah … I say we try the mod before we throw rocks, but that’s a good second step.”

“What about probing it with your magic?” Hunter asked, adjusting his stance.

“Better than throwing rocks, but I’d still rather try your mod first. If something goes horribly wrong—”

“It’ll happen to me?”

“Actually, it’ll happen to your mod.” Nova gave him a pointed look, and Hunter felt a brief flash of guilt.

“Sorry,” he said. “That was out of line.”

“Eh.” Nova shrugged. “Don’t worry about it.”

“No, I should,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m your commanding officer, and that was out of line.”

“Just use the mod already.”

“All right.” He tucked his wings tightly against his sides. “Get ready.” He reached down inside of himself, searching for the core of his magic and pushing it into the mod between his shoulders. For a second, nothing seemed to happen, and then a bubble of light burst out of him, radiating over the landscape and filling his vision with a familiar, glowing blur.

A familiar, glowing blur … and darkness. Darkness mixed with tightly-woven lines he couldn’t even begin to identify, all wrapped around a crystal shard that sunk deep into the glacier, pulsing with every passing moment. And inside of it …

“What?” Nova asked. “What do you see?”

“It’s …” He pulled his eyes back, looking at the air around them. He could see the magic of the fear field Nova had talked about, faint, purple lines in the sky that floated like the tendrils of a jellyfish. But there was a smear to everything else in the air, like he was looking through smudged glass. Except that the smudge wasn’t even, it was angled.

Angled right back toward the crystal. “You’re right,” he said. “It’s sucking up magic.” There was a very faint glow to the air where the magic neared the edges of the crystal … and then …

Gone. Sucked into a tangle of spellwork. “There’re spells all over the crystal,” he said. “Or maybe in it? It’s hard to tell.” He took a step forward. There was something behind them too, something all the tangled lines seemed to lead to. Something that was pulsing, growing brighter and darker with every passing moment, swelling outward through the crystal’s lattice-like spellwork in a rush and—

“Down!” He reached out and grabbed Nova with one foreleg, jerking him down to the ice as the bright void of purple at the center of the crystal pulsed. A titanic crack split the air, as if the glacier itself was coming apart, and he caught sight of the telltale glow of magic from Nova just moments before a slim, crescent flash split the air, thrumming as it threw back multiple black shards of the shattered crystal. Fragments passed around the shield, however, the air humming as they shot past. Several hit nearby, skipping off of the ice and sending small chips of frozen glacier cutting through the air in their wake.

The crescent shield winked out, but the immediate danger was past. The top of the crystal had blown completely apart, pulverizing the ice around it. And from it, an oily, smoke-like substance was leaking into the air, somehow unaffected by the wind around it.

“You …” The word was a hiss, barely audible over the wind, but still somehow dripping with menace and anger. “Equestrians …” There was no mistaking the anger in the voice now, even as the small cloud of shadow began to swell. “Cry—”

The shade’s words cut off in a howling screech of pain as a beam of bright yellow cut into it, boiling a neat hole through the center of the shadows and smoke. Still howling, it shot off across the surface of the glacier, floating just above the surface and darting back and forth in a zig-zag pattern.

“What?”Nova asked as Hunter glanced at him. “That’s definitely our guy. Unless you can think of any other smoke creatures hanging about in strange crystals that might fit our briefing.” Above, The Hummingbird was turning, spotlight trying to track the fleeing shade.

“And you couldn’t just grab it!?” he asked, scrambling forward and down the side of the ice, hoping that his footing didn’t slip or shift.

“Princesses said we couldn’t beat it. Blasting it seemed like a pretty good move,” Nova said, following. “It was that or let it do something. Since when are you the hard-edge?”

“I …” He paused, slowing in his steps. The strange sense of unease was gone. “I don’t know,” he said, shaking his head. “Sorry.” Up ahead, the spotlight was still chasing after the shade, zipping back and forth across the surface of the glacier at high speed.

“Blame it on the magic,” Nova said as he caught up with him, horn aglow. Faint patches in the ice were lighting up ahead of them, the unicorn probing the surface of the glacier with his magic. A bit excessive, but at the moment … “Another good reason to blast it.”

The glacier shook, a deep cracking noise filling the air behind them, and Hunter glanced back to see the remains of the crystal crumbling, breaking apart in slow motion. Whether it was the lack of its master or some other cause he couldn’t say, but he could see the immediate result: the ice that had been pushed up around it was beginning to collapse inward.

Oh, that’s not good. He could feel the ice beneath his hooves starting to shake as the cascading crash of settling ice built behind them. Nothing seemed to be shifting where they were moving, but at the same time …

We can’t chase this thing across a glacier, he thought. We need to drive it.

“Nova!” he called. “Shoot it again! Drive it off of the glacier!”

Nova skidded to a halt, his hooves kicking up snow and flakes of ice as he took aim. A yellow beam shot across the glacier, scything across the ice with a burst of steam to the right of the retreating shade. It jerked to the left, and Nova followed, his beam passing ahead and enveloping the path forward in another spray of steam. It fell to the glacier seconds later, already ice once more. But in the wake of Nova’s beam, a narrow channel had been cut across the ice.

The smoky shade sped up, darting for the side of the glacier. Nova fired twice more, his long beams cutting around the shade and several times almost striking it, driving it with greater urgency toward the forest. Then, with a final shriek, it vanished between the trees. An eerie stillness seemed to descend over the glacier as the steam from Nova’s strikes faded.

“Okay,” Nova said, looking at him as the glow around his horn faded. “It’s off the glacier. Now what?”

“Now we can track him easier.” He stared at the spot where the shade had vanished through the trees, fixing it in his mind. “We’ll move faster over the snow, and without as much heavy wind. And he’s got to be leaving traces of some kind I can follow.” I hope. He began to make his way across the glacier, choosing to head straight for the side rather than across to where their quarry had gone. “We track him, find him, maybe even catch him. But at the very least, we hunt him.” The edge of the glacier was closer now, and he spread his wings slightly, bounding ahead. “And we’ll be on solid ground.”

“Plus, we know he’s got to be wanting to head west,” Nova added. “So we can try and track him that way. As quick as he was moving across the glacier, either of us could run faster.”

“I’m counting on that,” Hunter added. “Plus …” He shook his head in the direction of The Hummingbird, which was still panning its searchlight across the mountainside. Suddenly, it doubled back, the running lights flashing several times.

“Bolt’s spotted it! Onya Bolt!” Hunter cried as he let himself surge forward, his legs kicking up snow as he darted through the wide gaps between the trees. Wind caught the fine powder, blowing it back over him and across the mountainside. Ahead, some ways off, he could make out a faint cloud of black darting away from The Hummingbird’s spotlight.

The hunt was on.

Author's Notes:

Poke the hissing thing, Hunter. Poke it!

It's a good thing funding for this team is insane. They've got to have all the equipment. And even that isn't enough (as the ice checks show).

Seriously, ice build-up is a real problem. In the Bering Sea, crab boats will hire extra deckhands just to run around the boat with axes chopping ice off of the boat. The wind is so cold that the spray hits the boat and freezes. If you're not careful, it'll build to be enough to block machinery, capsize the boat, or even make the boat so brittle it snaps under the force of the waves.

Yeah. Safety courses in my 8th grade class showed us a Coast Guard video of that last one. Came down atop a wave and snap. Two pieces. Down it went. Luckily the crew had already seen it coming and was abandoning ship (that's why the chopper was there to get the footage).

As always, new chapters on Tuesdays and Fridays, as well as every hundred upvotes! If you're enjoying the story so far, don't forget to check out my website or my published works!

Chapter 16

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“There,” Captain Song said, his body still. “There he goes.”

“Who?” Dawn asked.

“The courier,” Steel replied.

“Shouldn’t we stop him?” Dawn asked, her low voice quiet, barely filling the alleyway in which they were hiding. “Cut off their communications?” Sabra nodded, more in agreement with the question than with the cause.

“No,” Steel said, never taking his gaze from the distant clump of Order ponies. “Letting him go will be more effective in the long run.”

“How?”

“Because while he’s returning to whoever’s calling the shots, we’re going to take out the one who gave him orders,” Steel said. “The leaders in the tower—whoever that courier is going to speak with—will hopefully base their response on the assumption that this unicorn—” he nodded in the direction of the apparent commander, “—is still calling the shots.”

“And upon his return, will find otherwise,” Sabra said. “Thus throwing our foe’s plan into disarray.”

Steel nodded. “And rearing them back as they’re forced to react with only out-of-date plans to work with.”

“Keeping them off-balance while we continue unopposed,” Dawn finished with a faint nod. “Well, not unopposed.”

“But certainly with less organized opposition,” Sabra added.

“Exactly,” Steel said, still motionless. “So let’s let that courier get a little further away, and then let's see about that disarray.”

Sabra nodded. This plan is sound, he thought. And we’ve attacked several of their towers, removing our foes’ capability to communicate via lamps. They could send up signal flares from their horns, but such an act would also act as a beacon to their own locations. Allowing us to move freely past them.

“Dawn,” Steel said as the unicorn in charge of the remaining Order force began to bark orders, pointing and gesturing with her hooves. “Any ideas for taking their commander out at this distance?”

“Perhaps,” she replied after a moment. “Though it would be easier if I could get closer.” Her horn began to glow, and a length of rope poked its way out of her saddlebags. “And if we could keep their eyes off of me.”

Steel nodded, glanced at Sabra, then turned back toward Dawn. “All right. Think that house there will be close enough for what you have in mind?” He nodded, pointing his muzzle at a nearby rooftop.

“Easily.”

“All right. You head north, get to that rooftop, and make your move as soon as you can. Sabra and I will make some noise, try and draw their attention south. As soon as we see their leader go down, we’ll converge on them and take them all down.”

“Remember,” he said, turning to look at both of them. “These ponies have killed Royal Guard. Don’t hold back. They won’t.”

Sabra nodded, a faint pit in his stomach squirming. This has already moved to violence of the harshest sort, he thought as their small group split, he and Steel making their way south and Dawn north. It is all the Order will respond to, and the only tool of bringing peace at your disposal.

He knew it, but that did not mean he enjoyed it. It would simply be something he would have to live with. That, and the outcome. He turned his eyes toward the distant red banners, his memory to the piles of golden armor they’d seen as they’d flown past the city.

The pit in his gut vanished, his muscles tensing as all sense of trepidation was swept away. The Order must be stopped.

They moved through the streets quickly, their hooves sounding against the stone but muffled thanks to their suits. Once they ducked aside, dodging a light scouting patrol of three Order members that for a moment Sabra expected to take down, only for Steel to shake his head and give the order to withdraw.

“Right now they think they’re in control,” he said quietly once the trio had passed. “If we take them down, it could alert our quarry. If we disable our quarry, their morale may break, making them easier to take down when they panic, or do something foolish.”

Sabra nodded. “And if they regroup with their other forces?”

“We’re not going to give them that chance,” Steel replied. “Did you see any show of magic as they passed?”

He shook his head. “No.”

“Neither did I. That tells me our opponents are still overconfident. Later, that will change. We’ll take them down before they gain that measure of awareness.”

They changed directions, moving north. Loud voices echoed down the streets around them, shouted orders mixed with—

Cries of pain, Sabra realized quickly. And begging. He glanced at Captain Song, but he hadn’t reacted. “Captain,” he said quietly. “Do you hear it?”

“No. What are they doing?”

He strained, ears twitching. A cry echoed out from nearby, loud enough that Steel’s ears twitched. “They’re attacking the citizenry.”

“Keeping her forces occupied while she waits for orders.” There was no mistaking the glower of anger on the Captain’s face now.

Or the burning ember in his own chest.

“How far?”

He closed his eyes for a moment. “One, perhaps two streets north.” He tried to ignore the sharp slap of a hoof hitting flesh, and the cry of pain that followed it.

“That’s south of where they were earlier.”

It took him a moment to adjust his mental map. “By one street, yes.”

“Good. Then let’s find a vantage point and wait for Dawn to make her move. Once she does …” His voice became a growl. “We take these ponies down. Hard.”

Sabra nodded. “Yes sir. High or low?”

“Can you bring us up behind whatever home they’re questioning in front of?”

“I believe so, yes.”

“Good. You go high, I’ll go low. Target the ones hanging back. They’ll be the most likely to throw a spell once we move. Watch for Dawn, and move when she has. I’ll follow your lead.”

He nodded. “Naelewa.” Steel fell back, allowing him to take the point position, and he moved across the next street, eyes alert for any sign of a patrol or red-and-black armor.

Nothing. Steel’s words about the confidence of their foe seemed to be holding true. The homes here were packed close together, gaps between them barely enough space for a single pony to fit through. The cries and shouts he was hearing were echoing down one of them. He took a quick look down it, seeing only an open street on the other end, then moved to the other side of the home and did the same.

This time he caught a flash of red-and-black hindquarters, and he pulled his head back, motioning at the home they were standing in front of. Other side, he signaled, and Steel nodded, gesturing toward the roof. He nodded, and a moment later landed lightly atop the crystalline roof.

“—now,” a voice was saying as he worked his way to the peak of the rooftop and peered over it. “You helped those Equestrians. Your neighbors saw you betray us, betray the city—” There was another slap of hoof against flesh. “Now tell us: What did you tell them? We will know if you lie.”

“I-I told them nothing,” a shaking voice replied. “Nothing!”

“He is lying,” someone else said.

“No, I am not! I swear it!”

He couldn’t see anything from his current position but the peaks of the homes across the street, so he pushed himself up a little further, bringing a small sliver of the far street into view … along with several Order unicorns.

Thankfully, none of them were looking up. A few were looking down the street, or had their backs to him as they eyed nearby houses, but none were eyeing the rooftops. He eased himself further forward as another loud slap echoed across the street.

“Keep lying, filth,” a voice said. “You are only making your life more difficult. Perhaps you think you do not need the authority of the Order anymore? Maybe you think that you would be better off if our glorious king were gone? You aided Equestrian soldiers, enemies of our great state!”

“No, I did not! I swea—” The stallion’s protests cut off in a scream of pain that made Sabra’s gut twist.

Come on Dawn, he thought as he pushed up further, giving him a view of half of the street. The mare Steel had marked as the one in charge was standing in the center, her eyes fixed on whoever her force was interrogating, the rest of her force around her or out of his view. Worse, not all eyes were on their quarry. Several appeared to be watching from all angles.

And I can’t see if Dawn is in position, he thought, his eyes skimming the nearby homes but finding no sign of the armored medic. We were hoping they’d stay in that square. The Order, apparently, had possessed its own plans. Now what do we do? Steel was behind and below him, without a way to signal him otherwise. Do I wait for Dawn to act, or—?

“Enough of this,” their target said, her voice cold. Like the unicorn in the display they’d seen earlier, her horn was dyed red. “They have betrayed our king and their fellow citizens. An act of treason.” Her horn lit with a red glow. “Kill them.”

He moved, leaping into the sky as, at the same time, a length of rope, wrapped in orange, shot out of one of the alleyways between the houses.

The rope got there first. As Sabra arced down out of the air, pulling his Fimbo from his back and extending it to its full length, the end of the rope darted around the rear legs of both his target and those of her guards, tightening with a sudden jerk that pulled them from their hooves with shocked cries.

But not shocked enough that their leader wasn’t able to raise a shield shortly before his staff would have cracked down on her skull. The clang of the impact rang across the street and up his forelimbs, his hooves going numb as the shield cracked and splintered … but held.

He twisted, as much on instinct as on the flick of an ear, a spell of some power blasting through the space he’d just occupied and blowing a chunk out of a home down the street. He kept the twist going, turning his back on his initial target and bringing his staff around. He struck at the first thing he saw—a unicorn’s red-banded horn—and was rewarded with a sharp snap as it shattered. The stallion screamed in pain, raw magic boiling out of his skull.

He carried the spin through, pushing his mod into it with a hop and leaping over the body of the unicorn that had been rushing at him, horn glowing with arcane energy. The Fimbo caught him between the shoulder blades, knocking him down but not out of the fight.

He landed, only to have his hooves yanked from beneath him, a blue glow slipping from his legs, but not before he’d dropped to his belly. He rolled rather than rise, letting go of his Fimbo for the moment and focused on putting distance between himself and the four Order unicorns moving toward him.

One went down in a cry of surprise as Steel joined the fight, the force of his blow bouncing the guard off of the ground.

There was no time to watch. He kicked up with all his might as his hooves met crystal once more, rising into the air as a dark beam wrapped in purple cut through the ground where he’d just been. The crystal surface boiled like water, rippling and bubbling before freezing once more. He came down atop the mare that had fired the blast, slamming his hooves into the base of her skull. She slumped to the ground without a sound, the dark bubbles of magic around her horn winking out.

One down, a dozen to go. Or maybe not down, there was a chance she could get up. Like the stallion he’d tapped between the shoulder-blades, already rising with a snarl. But there were closer threats to worry about.

He ducked and threw his body to the side, taking advantage of his mobility to keep his core and head from being easy targets. His hooves lashed out as he moved, knocking aside blows as he dove into the middle of the closest knot of foes and laid in. One of them carried a blade in their magic, and he took them first, sliding under it and headbutting the unicorn in the chest. As he heard the ting of the blade hitting the ground, he shifted targets, dropping his hooves around the shoulders of the unicorn he’d just headbutted and putting his weight on them, swinging and kicking out at the order guard standing next to him. Whatever glow of magic their partner had in mind vanished as Sabra’s hoof caved the side of his helmet in.

He let go, rolling over the unicorn’s back and leaping away from a blast of fire that cooked the air where he’d just been. An Order mare was standing free in the center of the street, horn aglow as she created more bubbles of flame and hurled them at him. He dodged behind one of her own allies, the stallion letting out a scream of terror and pain as the bubble rolled over him. The other orbs shot past and detonated, the force of the three explosions enough to lift Sabra into the air and fling him through a nearby fence, his armor uncomfortably warm.

And I believed that the cold would be a problem on this trip, he thought as he stumbled into a run, kicking off the side of a building as several more of the orbs exploded behind him. The air around the mare was warping, twisting with a haze of heat, and then—

One of her own allies, hurled by Steel, slammed into her back, and the wave of heat vanished along with her concentration as they went down in a tangle of limbs. Jumping over another unicorn who charged at him, Sabra scooped up his Fimbo and brought it down atop the fiery mare’s head, eliciting a solid thunk. Then he whirled, locking eyes with the one that had charged him. They both started forward … and his Fimbo tore free of his hoof and slammed into the side of his head.

He rolled with the impact, though not quickly enough that he couldn’t feel the jarring throb of pain that his armor hadn’t been able to deflect. His Fimbo arced down again, wrapped in a purple blur, and he dodged to the side, scowling as the staff reacted instantly.

I do not like this trick. His staff stabbed for his gut, and he had little choice but to block it with his forelegs, deflecting the blow but feeling stinging pain ring up his legs. Still wrapped in the glow, his weapon flipped around in the air, and he barely brought his hooves up in time to block yet another hit that made his armor plating ring.

It flipped again, and the other end caught him in the chest, the crystal plate chipping as the tip of the staff ground into it.

He brought both his hooves down atop the rogue weapon, shoving down as hard as he could, and spotted the head of one of the unicorns Steel had been fighting jerk downward. A second later the spell popped, his Fimbo under his control once more. He spun it around his hooves and flung it at another Order member who was lining up their glowing horn with Dawn—now leaving the alley as her ropes choked a number of her opponents. The staff flew true, connecting with the stallion’s head just behind his right eye. He dropped without a sound.

Wood splintered against his armor, the scorched remains of the fence he’d been thrown through crashing over him in a rush. The wood was light, the impacts minimal, and he attacked the stallion that had thrown them, breaking through his weak attempt at a shield and raining three rapid strikes across his jaw. Bleeding and likely missing teeth, the unicorn fell.

A red glow at the edges of his vision caught his attention, and he turned to see the blade one of the Order members had dropped sliding across the ground toward the unicorns Dawn had restrained. Several of them were already unconscious, their oxygen cut off by the tight ropes, but their leader was still alert, spittle foaming at her jaw as she stared at the blade sliding closer and closer.

Sabra stepped on it, staring at the mare as he felt the blade tug against his hoof. Her eyes—already burning with hatred almost as hot as the orbs that had nearly burned him alive earlier—narrowed, lips pulling back in a sneer. But Dawn’s ropes clenched tighter, and the tug against his hoof grew weaker. She made a final, desperate attempt to pull the blade free … and then slumped, eyes rolling into the back of her head. A moment later an orange glow settled over her. Dawn’s sleep spell, ensuring that the mare was in fact unconscious, and not just acting. Only then did the ropes relax.

A silence settled over the street as Steel let go of his last opponent, their body sliding limply to the ground. Only then did their surroundings catch up to Sabra, along with the smell of cooked flesh. His stomach churned in response to the scent.

“Report,” Steel said, stepping up and looking at Dawn. “Who’s dead, and who’s alive?”

“These seven are alive,” Dawn said, gesturing to the ones she’d ambushed as her ropes shifted position, tying themselves in tight knots around her victims and securing them against one another. “As for the others …”

Her horn lit with an orange glow, filling the street as she panned her horn over the other Order unicorns. “Most of them are alive,” she said after a moment. “Several won’t last the day without care, however.” She began to move toward one of them, but Steel blocked her path with a hoof.

“Only the most serious cases,” he said, looking right at her. “The ones that won’t survive until their own side comes to care for them.”

“Their own side might not,” Dawn replied.

“Fine,” Steel said, nodding. But he didn’t lower his hoof. “Can you stabilize them quickly?”

“I can try.”

“You have three minutes.” He dropped his hoof. “Then we need to disappear. Two of their number teleported away. They can’t have gone far, but they’ll return with allies.” He turned to look at Sabra. “Any injuries?”

“Nothing serious.” He glanced down at his chest plate, noting the deep chip the impact of his Fimbo had left. “I will be all right.”

“Good. Then give me a hoof,” Steel said, stepping over to the unicorns Dawn had restrained. “We’re taking this one with us.” He put a hoof on the leader of the group.

“What about—?” Sabra turned to look in the direction of whoever the Order had been about to kill, only to see a tightly closed door.

“They split the moment you jumped down,” Steel said, grabbing one of the ropes with his teeth. “Help me get her on my back, will you?”

Sabra nodded, and soon the mare was lying across Steel’s back, still bound and breathing heavily. “What are we going to do with her?”

“See what she knows,” Steel said, his voice grim. “After that, we’ll drug her and lock her up somewhere.” He turned to Dawn. “Almost done?”

“Nearly.” Dawn knelt near the burned stallion. “I suppose treating his wounds is out of the question?”

“Not if they aren’t immediately life-threatening.”

“Fine.” Dawn’s horn glowed once more, and a syringe floated out of her bag. She tapped it with one hoof, then injected it into the stallion’s flank.

“What was that?” Steel asked.

“A sedative,” she said as she rose. “He’ll stay asleep now. If someone forces him to wake, he’ll be incoherently disabled.”

“Do me a favor and inject the rest of those unicorns you tied up with it.”

“I don’t have much but …” Sabra could see her mulling it over in her eyes. “Very well. I suppose that will keep them from being a threat without either guarding them or bringing them other forms of harm.” The syringe darted in and out like a tiny spear, delivering its dangerous payload.

“Done,” Dawn said, the injector floating back into her bag. “Now?”

“Now we run,” Steel said, turning and pointing. “Circle south, and see if we can catch the first groups sent to a watchtower in an ambush on their return. If not them, then we take the watchtower, since they’ve already ‘secured’ it, and hand it over to the local resistance.”

“From there,” he said with a shake of his shoulders. “We see what I can get out of our prisoner.”

* * *

There was a new guard on the lookout from the watchtower, Sabra noted as they neared the structure, one that was far more alert than his or her predecessor had been. Which meant that their usual approach likely wouldn’t work if they wanted to keep their activities a surprise. He slid back down the roof, landing in somepony’s rear yard.

“No good,” he said, shaking his head. “They’re on alert.”

“And likely have spells wards laid as well,” Dawn added. “To prevent a surprise attack like before.”

“Hmmm …” Steel said, rubbing a hoof at his chin. “Wards and a lookout. Think we can avoid setting them off?”

“I could try sensing them,” Dawn said. “But that’s more Nova’s speciality than mine.”

“His aid would be useful at this point,” Sabra agreed with a nod. “Or Hunter’s.”

Steel shook his head. “The one that matters is the watch. They can signal the rest of the city. If we can keep them from sounding the alarm, we can deal with the ones inside.”

“Unless your armor isn’t enough to counter the wards,” Dawn pointed out. “Given our tactics so far, I would expect the entrance to be heavily protected.”

Sabra’s eyes slid to the mare lying across Steel’s back. “Could we perhaps use that to our advantage? Provided we ensure the watch alerts no one to our presence?”

“Now wait a moment—” Dawn began, but Steel was already nodding, his gaze switching to their unconscious captive.

“Maybe,” he said, and then looked at Dawn. “Do you have anything that could keep their watch from sending out word?”

Dawn shifted, likely frowning inside her armor. “I can try and work a rope up the side of the building, but it will take time.”

“Teleportation?”

She shook her head. “Too obvious. The flash would be a telltale sign, and I’m not that skilled at teleportation in any case, though I have been working on it.”

“Anything that can delay that lookout from getting a signal off while Sabra and I take out everyone inside and make our way up.”

For a moment Dawn was quiet, but then she nodded. “Actually, I may have something. It’s not an easy spell, but it might work.”

“And?” Steel prompted.

“It’s a ‘stick-it’ spell,” Dawn said. “It’s designed to make something incredibly sticky. We use it to help hold incisions closed until we can stitch them shut.”

“So you make the lookout sticky?”

She nodded. “Lips, in particular, so they won’t be able to shout. Hooves, so they can’t move. If I put enough power into the spell, they’d find themselves stuck to anything they touched. If they pressed their nostrils together, they’d suffocate.”

“Will the spell hold that long?”

“Hard to say. I could cast it at a distance, but without precision. And it won’t prevent them from signaling with their own magic.”

“He could forget if he were unable to breathe,” Sabra noted. “For a moment, at the least.”

Dawn nodded. “That’s why I suggested it. I hit them with the stick-it spell, and then try to keep it active as long as I can while getting close enough to get a horn-lock over their horn.”

“That should be enough,” Steel said, glancing at Sabra. “You think you can get up that tower before her target manages to get the horn-lock off?”

He nodded. “Of course.”

“Three-pronged assault, then,” Steel said. “Dawn, sneak close and go to work. Sabra, the moment you see that horn-ring floating out, move to take the guard. Then storm the steps. Hopefully they won’t have warded those.”

“What about you?” Sabra asked.

“I’ll go in through the front door,” he said. “The moment I see you start moving up the tower.”

“But the wards—” Dawn began, only for Steel to cut her off.

“Probable wards,” he said. “Besides, I won’t be the first one through the door.”

“Those wards could be fatal.”

“That’s their problem. Besides, I doubt they want that. The leadership here, claims to the public aside, has to be in desperate need of information. Likely they want one of us alive, at least.”

“Still, we could lose our source of intelligence.”

“Better than them keeping it,” Sabra said. “We already were fortunate to take her alive. As long as our foe no longer has access to what she knows.”

“Sabra’s right. Either way, our foe no longer has access to her. Either way, we come out ahead. Now let’s take this place down, and quickly!” He turned, the conversation over, and headed for the end of the alley.

“Which direction?” Sabra asked, glancing at Dawn.

She thought for a moment before replying. “South,” she answered. “I’ll come from the south. Give me a minute or two to get into position.”

“Very well. I will come from the north.” He turned and followed Steel, slowing only when he needed to cross one of the wide streets that the watchtower had a clear view of and waiting for the lookout to focus their attention elsewhere. Once he’d moved far enough north, it was a simple matter to break to the east and close in on the watchtower from one of its many blind avenues of approach. It meant cutting through yards, alleys, and in one case what he was fairly sure had been a livestock pen at one point, though he saw no livestock, but it kept him away from the sight of the lookout, and that was all that mattered. Only once he drew close did he bother ducking back against the sides of buildings once more, sticking out of sight until he was just north of the tower’s position, directly across the road.

Once more, he thought, using his mod to climb the backside of the building and ducking behind a chimney while the lookout was focusing elsewhere. Then he settled down to wait, his ears alert and his eyes half-closed as he waited for Dawn to make her move.

He didn’t have to wait long. A faint “Mmmpph!” came from the top of the watchtower, and he bolted around the chimney, calling forth the mod as he made his first jump, clearing the street. The sounds of muffled panic from above him intensified, followed by a heavy-sounding thump that made him grimace.

If that alerts the Order inside … he thought as he jumped up the massive, crystal spikes. It could make his job a lot more difficult. If even one unicorn got a signal off with their horn …

He cleared the top of the watchtower under his own power, the mod empty. The lookout was pressed up against the outer railing, their tail and body stuck to the wood, their body shaking back and forth as they tried to dislodge both it and their hooves, all of which were stuck fast.

As was their mouth and their eyes. Sabra felt a faint shiver crawl down his back at the sight. The stallion’s ears were also stuck in a down position, flat against their skull.

Blind, unable to breathe … The horn-lock stuck to their horn was just the final note in the stallion’s alarm, he suspected. He reached for it, ready to secure it, but then pulled back. Then I would be stuck as well. Very well. He waved a hoof to the south, and a second later the stallion’s eyes and mouth popped open with a gasp, the unicorn staggering away from the wall and looking around in a panic.

His eyes fixed on Sabra, widening, and then went blank as Sabra’s hoof crashed into his chin. The stallion hit the floor and didn’t get up.

There wasn’t much time. He ducked and made certain that the unicorn’s horn-lock was secure, then glanced down at the intersection before the watchtower. Steel was almost at the front steps, but he stopped just a few feet short of them. Sabra gave him a wave, and the captain responded with an almost invisible nod before reaching back over his shoulders to the mare on his back and gripping the back of her armor in his teeth.

Then, he pulled her off of his back and began to spin. Slowly at first, but then faster and faster until the mare was just a limp, blurry figure hanging in the air.

“Hey Order!” Steel managed to call through the obstruction in his teeth. “Knock knock!” He let the mare go.

Sabra wasn’t sure what happened first. At some point during the mare’s journey over the steps, there was a sharp crack followed by a flash of light and the scent of ozone, but at the speed she was moving, the event blurred with the crash of her body smashing through the front doors, either knocking them from their hinges or breaking them apart entirely. Several more snaps and cries of dismay sounded from inside, but he didn’t hear them. He had already whirled and ripped the hatch open. Diving down the spiral stairs, it was less of a controlled descent and more a series of zig-zagging, downward leaps.

The main office, when he arrived, was already in shambles. He caught a brief glimpse of the front doors thrown open, of a small, scattered group of Order unicorns all standing to face it with horns alight, of the Order mare Steel had thrown through lying in a singed lump on the floor … and then he ambushed the first unicorn from behind, taking their legs out from beneath them with a snap of bone parting. At his first target’s scream, the rest of the room began to turn in response, only for Steel to storm through the front door and tackle the two closest unicorns.

After that, nothing about the fight was remotely fair. Though holding superior numbers, the Order were disoriented, off-balance, and most of all, facing an attack from two sides. In seconds, the last unicorn fell to the floor, one hoof up in surrender while the other worked at holding their teeth in.

“Check the building,” Steel said. “I’ll make sure no one here tries anything foolish.” Sabra nodded and moved to the back, checking individual offices as well as the restrooms. He found one Order unicorn cowering in the bathroom and marched him back to the front, coming in just as Dawn arrived.

“We’ve got trouble,” Dawn said, as she stepped in, her eyes flicking over the wounded Order unicorns before coming back to Steel.

“What kind?”

“Crystal ponies,” Dawn said. “A mob of them. Headed this way. And toward the next closest tower.”

“Horseapples.” Steel took a quick look around the room. “They can have this tower, but assaulting the next? They’ll get routed. Even if there are any former guard among them.”

“Or take horrific casualties if they did take it,” Dawn added, her emphasis clear.

“Can we stop them?” Sabra asked.

“Do we want to?” Steel rebutted. Dawn’s eyes went wide with shock. “Wiped out or not, the ponies in this city standing up for themselves is a good thing. It’s the retaliation that’s dangerous. I didn’t think they’d move this fast.” He let out a quick sigh. “All right, here’s what we’re going to do. They can have this station, and lock up all this trash while they’re at it. But I need to talk to our source here—” He gave the still-unconscious mare a kick with one hoof, and she let out a moan. “And find out everything we can about their power structure. I want you two to meet up with that other group and slow them down.”

“How?” Sabra asked.

“Ask?” Steel suggested. “Just don’t let them hit that tower before you soften it up. They’re going to be in the same kind of panic this place was, so they should be easy to hit.”

“What if they send out a signal?” Dawn asked.

Steel shook his head. “If there’s a mob heading there, we probably can’t help that now. Either the watchtower will get a signal out, or someone at the center of the city will notice. Prevent it if you can, but if the local populace is already moving …” He shook his head. “Just do what you can to keep them safe. Both of you.”

“And you?” Sabra asked.

“I’ll meet you there. If they get the word out, odds are that place is going to get hit, and hard. I’ll find out what I can from our friend, throw her in a cell with her friends—plus let out anyone down there that needs to be—and then come meet you. We’ll go from there, but odds are, that place is going to get hit. Or any other watchtower the public is moving for. Are we clear?” He looked at Dawn, and she nodded.

“Spec?” Steel asked as he turned his eyes to him. His hesitation must have shown on his face.

“I …” he began. “This must have been what the ancient captains spoke of when they wrote of no victory, only stages of loss.” To his surprise, the captain shook his head. Dawn, he noticed, was nodding as well.

“Not even close,” Steel said. “This is just a complication. And for the record, I don’t quite agree with some of those old captains. There’s winning, and then there’s winning. Don’t ask me to get any more specific then that. Take the tower, keep the crystal pony citizens alive. Clear?”

Sabra nodded, the old quotes still flashing through his mind. “Yes, captain.”

“Then move it.”

Chapter 17

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“Okay,” Nova said, his chest heaving. “This thing can move.”

Hunter slowed slightly, nodding as he peered through the swirling snows and noting the thick layer of ice buildup around the muzzle of his helmet. “You’re telling me.” He brought one hoof up and knocked it against the chin of his armor. A chunk of ice broke away, falling to the ground and vanishing into the thick carpet of snow. “I’d fly if I thought it would do any good.”

“Isn’t it working for that thing?”

“It? He?” He glanced at Nova, then nodded at his muzzle. “Ice check.” It was easier to breathe, a little, now that he’d knocked most of his own ice away, but his lungs were still heaving in and out, sucking in air. “I guess. I can see a trail, so he’s interacting with the ground somehow.” He pointed at the faint sign they’d been following through the snow. It wasn’t much, just a faint divot where the snow beneath the cloud of smoke they’d been following had been pushed away. It was already filling in, snow and wind scouring it clean.

We’re just lucky this thing leaves a trail at all. There was a soft plop as the ice from Nova’s muzzle broke free and fell to the snow. Gives me something to track. Not that it’s getting any easier. The sky above was getting darker, the shadows between the trees growing thicker. The snow hadn’t gotten any worse, thankfully, but at the rate it was coming down it wasn’t exactly helping either.

And we’re getting tired. Running through snow was never easy. And they’d been at it for hours, winding through the woods with The Hummingbird overhead, their saddlebags full of gear. If not for our armor, we’d be right stuffed. As it was, he felt close. Nova couldn’t feel much better.

We can’t keep this up.

Unfortunately, their quarry so far could. And about all we’ve got going for us is that it isn’t heading for the city. Which didn’t mean much, all things considering. If it doubles back on us, and we lose the trail …

He scowled. Steel, I should punt your flank into next week for this assignment.

I should, but … He almost let out a sigh. We’re Dusk Guard. This is what we’re supposed to do. “The impossible, right?” he muttered under his breath.

“What?” Nova asked. “You say something?”

“Nothing important,” he said, shaking his head. “Come on. Let’s move before we lose the trail.” He moved forward again, the snowshoes on his hooves thumping against the snow. At least they made it easier to move atop it. To a point. Then again …

He glanced at the trunk of a nearby tree as they passed. Given where the lowest branches are, the snow here is probably at least as deep as my head. Maybe deeper. And while running through it without the snowshoes wouldn’t be impossible, it’d certainly be a lot more difficult. And I’d fly, but … The wind picked up, shifting from a howl to a gale as if in answer.

Right. It’d be a pretty energy-intensive flight. Not to mention he’d end up leaving Nova behind, since the colt was on hoof.

So we slog, he thought. And that’s—

“So what do you think he’s doing?” Nova asked, voice barely audible above the sound of the wind rushing through the trees.

“What?” he asked, glancing back.

“What do you think he’s doing?” Nova asked again, still plodding along behind him. “This ‘Sombra’ guy, I mean. Is he going somewhere? Or is he just running?”

Hunter shook his head. “You’re asking the wrong pony.”

“Am I?”

The question brought him up short. “What?”

“Well, you’re a tracker, right?”

“Yeah.” He glanced at the trail. It wasn’t in danger of fading, not for at least a good ten or fifteen minutes. They could slow their pace.

“So I’ve been tracked,” Nova said. “A lot. When you’re being tracked and you know it, there’s a lot of ways to react. There’s panicked flight, there’s the not-so-smart ways, and then the smart ways.” He shifted, likely grinning beneath his armor. “Yeah, you can guess which one I went for. But what I’m saying is, sure, he’s running. But running to what? Or where? Does it feel like he’s trying to get someplace? Or lead us in circles?”

“I …” His jaw moved without making a sound, and he glanced back at the trail they’d been following. “I hadn’t even thought about it.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t think about it until a moment ago,” Nova said, tapping the side of his helmet a little too hard with one snowshoe and then glaring at it. “You’re a tracker. One of the best. But you worked for the Rangers. You were tracking lost ponies, or animals, right? Not beings that didn’t want to be found, or that are trying to escape.”

“Me, though,” Nova said, still with a hint of a grin in his voice. “I was that pony.”

“So what you’re saying is … more teamwork, less leader-follower?” Hits my ego a little bit, but that’s what I get for upping myself so hard I forgot my job.

“Actually, no,” Nova said, shaking his head. “I was just asking what you thought he was up to. But when you put it that way, it sounds like a good idea. How about this, let’s keep following, but tell me first what we’re looking at. What’s the trail been like?”

“Well …” Okay, this is different, but not too different. You can do this. He started forward once more, following the trail left by Sombra. “So far it’s been a little erratic.”

“How so? Is it random?”

“No.” He shook his head. “Not random. Not always.”

“Just sometimes.”

“Right.”

“Is that when he moves the fastest?”

The question almost made him stop. “It is,” he said, glancing over at him. “How’d you know?”

“Because that’s when we’re getting closest,” Nova said, eyes grim through the crust of ice on his visor. “How can you tell?”

“The drift.” He pointed at the faint impression with one wing. Frost, he noticed, had dusted the feathers. “When he moves faster it gets narrower, but the snow around it gets more disturbed. Like he’s flying faster.”

“You can see that?”

“I’m not beating it up. It is my special talent, after all.”

“All right, and that happens every time he moves randomly?”

“Yeah.”

“What about the other times?”

He thought back. “Hard to say. Some of them had a small imprint afterward, like he was moving faster, but others had a larger one.”

“Like he was going slower?”

“Spot on.”

“Hmmm …” He could barely hear Nova’s hum over the howl of the wind. “You know what that sounds like?”

“No—wait, hang on. Stopping and going. Speeding and slowing. Like a foal when they’re lost.”

“Yeah,” Nova said, nodding. “Kind of. Somepony who’s lost, but stops to look for directions.”

“Or something familiar. Then we catch up,” Hunter said. “And he bolts in a random direction.”

“Only to slow down and start looking again,” Nova added. “Think he’s got any idea where he is?”

Hunter shook his head. “No idea. The speeding up seems random. Like he’s truly confused and lost.” He frowned. “For that matter, he might not be that intelligent. You know anything about shades?”

“Nothing,” Nova said with a shake of his own head. “Aside from the name, and that it looks like a small cloud of smoke.”

“Right … Well, the trail’s moving at a steady pace now.” He could see the path winding through the trees, a faint channel through the snow, its spacing even. “Let’s keep up.”

Nova glanced up at the sky. “We still moving north?”

“Mostly. With a bit of eastern movement thrown in.” The trees opened up, the trail leading out into a small clearing.

“Really? I would have thought he’d want to head west. That’s where the city is.”

“Worried we’re following a false trail?”

“No,” Nova said with a shake of his head. “I’m worried we’re missing something.”

The trail stopped for a moment in the middle of the clearing before darting off toward the northeast. “He stopped here for a moment,” Hunter said, dragging a hoof gently over the imprint left by the shade’s passing, dragging away some of the snow that had settled atop the thin crust. “Then left in that direction. Quickly.”

“Hang on,” Nova said, as he started to move. “Wait a moment.” He stepped forward and stood roughly where the shade had stopped. “Which direction?”

“That way,” Hunter said, pointing.

“Huh.” Nova peered up at the mountain peaks, then let out a sigh. “Well, I guess it’s something. Does he always break in the same direction?”

“No.”

“Right. Wish I’d thought of this earlier, so we could see if there were any landmarks he might have been reacting to.”

Hunter thought back. “Hard to say. If there were any marks he was reacting to, they were either identical or close enough to one another that I couldn’t tell. Best I could say is one of the peaks.”

“We’re heading up the mountains.”

“Which we already knew.” Hunter said, eyeing the trail. Ahead of them, the landscape shifted, the ground breaking its mostly-level incline in favor of a steeper rise. “We might know more if he breaks east or west up ahead, though. To go around the mountain, rather than over it.” Snow crunched under his snowshoes, the thin crust cracking under his weight. The trail beckoned.

A distant rumble echoed across the sky as they continued to follow the signs of the shade’s passing. They were moving upward, now, legs burning as the snow beneath them began to tilt, rising along the side of the mountain. The trees grew thicker, the heavy boughs above them bouncing in the strong wind, the thick needles almost like small blades standing against the snow.

Where are you going, Sombra? Ahead of them, the path climbed over a small ledge, and he stopped as he reached its peak, turning to the west and eyeing the distant crystal city. It was faint, but still visible beneath the massive storm. If that’s your target, why lead us this way?

Unless you know you’re being followed. On a whim he activated his mod, peering along the trail ahead of them.

“Nothing,” he said before Nova could speak. “Just making sure.” There was nothing around them but trees, snow, and a few small, bright points of light buried beneath the pack that were probably mice, hunkering down away from the storm.

Wish we could do that, he thought as the magic haze faded from his eyes. He peered up through the trees, catching sight of The Hummingbird as it plied the path ahead of them with its lights. At least Bolt is warm in that thing.

Then again, she was also piloting a massive airship through a storm he wouldn’t want to fly in. That he could hear the shrill whine of the propellers over the howling storm was a testament to how bad the winds were. And it’s only going to get worse closer to the mountains, he thought. In fact … He slowed. Maybe that’s what’s going on?

“What?” Nova asked, tilting his head back and looking up at The Hummingbird. “Sky Bolt didn’t signal us, did she?”

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “But what if she’s why we’re heading north?”

“What? I don’t get it.”

“The mountains.” He pointed with one hoof. Doesn’t work as well when it’s stuck in a snowshoe. “The mountains create a lot of updrafts and downdrafts. In a storm like this, they’d be hardest to fly close to. Bolt’s been following him as best she can with those lights since we found him on that glacier, and he’s headed here, rather than toward the Crystal Empire. Where the flying is the hardest.”

“He’s trying to give us the slip.”

“Maybe?” He lowered his hoof, watching as the airship shuddered under another gust of wind. “I mean, if you were being chased by an airship—”

“Not fast enough.”

“Well, if it was,” he said. “You’d go somewhere—”

“Where it would have trouble finding me; I get it,” Nova said. “And the mountain downdrafts will make it a lot harder for The Hummingbird to do that. And the trees. So he makes it harder for us to track him.”

“I think so.”

“Well,” Nova said as they began following the trail once more. “If you’re right, then that leaves us with another question.”

“What?”

“Is he really heading for anything? Or was it just ‘the mountains’ this entire time to make it tough for the airship? Or is it both at once?”

Hunter paused to fly up a steep section of the mountainside, then turned and extended a hoof to Nova. “In other words, are we just doing exactly what he wants?”

“Or is just lucky for our target that where he wants to go is tougher for us?” Nova shrugged as he rose up alongside him. “We’d have to catch him to find out. Or wait until we can figure out his motives. Your call either way, boss.”

“For now?” He eyed the trail winding between the trees. The ground ahead only seemed steeper. Above and ahead of them, The Hummingbird was still sweeping its searchlights across the mountainside. He could feel a cold chill settling into his limbs, reaching for his core. “We keep going. A little longer, at least. I want a clear idea of where he’s going before we get out of this storm.”

They pressed on, the sky growing dark above them, wind clawing at the crevices in their armor. The chill in his limbs grew deeper, probing into his chest and stretching at his core. Cracks of lightning lit the mountains, the sound rolling off of the peaks ahead of them and back across them like waves on a beach. The snows grew thicker and deeper as they climbed. Twice more they had to stop and break ice buildup from their helmets. And all the while, the path wound north.

“I can’t tell what’s winning,” Nova said as they climbed up over another rise. “The burning in my legs, or the cold.”

“I know what you mean,” Hunter said, pausing for a moment to stretch his forelegs. “My wings feel like they’re frozen to my sides.”

“How much longer are we going to keep chasing him? We have to rest eventually.”

“I know,” Hunter said. “I was kind of hoping the same would be true for him.” He scowled under his helmet. “I guess it shouldn’t be surprising that a creature made out of smoke can’t get sore legs.” Another flash of light threw the craggy mountainside ahead of them into sharp relief, a dull crack washing over them a moment later, loud enough that Hunter felt it resonate in his chest.

“So … What are we going to do?” Nova called over the echoing rumble of the lightning. “It’s getting darker!”

“I know!” He looked up again, picking out the shape of The Hummingbird against the darkening sky. If we camp or take a break, that little smoke-thing might get further away. But if we keep chasing it, we’ll freeze to death, especially once the sun finishes setting. He scowled again. This is why I sometimes hate being in … Wait a minute.

“Hey, Hunter?”

“I see it.” The Hummingbird had turned back toward them, flashing its running lights. “She’s found something. Come on!” He began pushing forward, his legs first protesting stiffly and then just burning as he ran up the mountainside. Ahead the terrain leveled, and he let out a mental sigh of relief as he rounded the crest. A long, low shelf in the side of the mountain, bristling with thick pines, stretched before them. The Hummingbird was almost overhead, and he gave Nova a quick glance before spreading his wings.

“Stay here. I’ll be right back.” He’d barely risen into the air when the lines of his suit flared bright green, his own weather magic struggling to keep him on course and barely succeeding. The wind picked up as he cleared the tree line, shoving him back, and he beat his wings harder to compensate, feeling the drag as the frost on his feathers sucked at the air.

Come on, Hunter, he thought as the triangular shape of The Hummingbird filled the air above him. You’ve been in worse storms.

You just didn’t fly in them, a small part of him said as he reached the side door and spilled into it, all but collapsing on the deck as warmth spilled over his body. He rose, his legs shaking, and shoved the hatch shut. The howling wind cut out at once, though he could still hear it, raging outside along with the airship’s propellers.

Part of him wanted to just lie in the warmth for a moment, to let his legs and body rest, the frost on his feathers melt and flow down onto the floor. But … he thought as his visor began to fog, the heat difference too much for the preventative spells on it. No time to be lazy. He pulled his helmet from his head, tucking it under an already damp-feathered wing, and shucked his snowshoes from his hooves. At least I’ll have to dry my wings before I dive out of this thing. Otherwise the now-melting frost, already banding together in watery clumps in his feathers, would freeze into ice. And I’d fall right out of the sky. He’d seen it happen before.

“Bolt!” he called as he stepped into the main room. It was lit dimly, The Hummingbird already having switched over to its low-light night mode. It made walking across the deck a little trickier, since the airship was rolling and swaying under the winds from the storm. Still, he could see light from the open cockpit door. “I’m here. What’s going on?”

“He stopped.” Bolt stuck her head around the hatch, only to jump back to her seat as he neared.

“He stopped?”

She nodded. “Yeah, he stopped. Burrowed down into the snow between some trees.” The roar of the propellers increased as she brought The Hummingbird around. “There,” she said, pointing.

From the air it didn’t look like much. A scattered break among many between the trees, an open space with snow howling through it. “How can you tell which one it is?” he asked. “I see a couple of breaks down there.”

“Tallest pines,” Bolt replied. He frowned.

Tallest pines? Wait a moment. “Pass me those binoculars again?” He walked right up to the edge of the glass, peering down at the small clearing. A moment later the binoculars were in his hoof, and he lifted them, taking a closer look at the space she’d pointed at. Or, more accurately, the trees around it.

“Great.” There wasn’t much more to say. “Just great.”

“What?”

He scanned the trees around the clearing a few more times, noting the small depressions in the snow, the missing lower branches on nearby trees. “Yeti,” he said, lowering the glasses. “He’s taken shelter in a camp of yeti.”

“Aren’t those—?”

“Dangerous? Yeah.” He passed the binoculars back to her. “That complicates things.”

“Aren’t we supposed to be more dangerous?”

“Sure. But when we’re tired and half-frozen? And even then, just because we’re more dangerous doesn’t mean it’s a smart idea to dive into a pack of wild yeti. Besides,” he said, turning away from the view to look at her. “It could be a diversion, too.”

“I get it,” Bolt said, nodding. “He pretends to hide, then sneaks away while we try to figure out what to do.”

“Right,” he said with a nod of his own. “Or he hides, waits for us to anger the yeti, and then slips away while we’re fighting in the confusion.”

“So it’s a trap?”

“Maybe …” he said, drawing the word out and looking down at the forest once more. “It could also be an act of desperation. Nova and I have been run ragged charging up this mountain after him. He might be as tired as we are. He doesn’t have a body, but energy is still energy, I think. Right?”

“Energy is energy,” she agreed. “If he’s moving, it’s using something.”

“Right. So maybe he’s just as tired as we are, and sneaking into a yeti camp is his way of getting some time to recuperate. Which means … if that’s what he’s doing, we have to go after him.”

“What?” Bolt’s eyes locked on him. “Why?”

“Because he’ll probably recuperate faster than we do,” he said. “Remember what Steel said about the Princesses’ warnings? He’s too much for us to handle. The only reason we’re chasing him right now is because he’s weak, but he’s going to get stronger. If we let him rest …”

“He might get stronger faster. Might.” Bolt shook her head. “Do you really want to wander into a yeti camp on that chance? I’ve never seen a yeti, but …”

“I’m not going to ‘wander in,’” he said, shaking his head. “Nova and I will check the edges first; see if we see any signs of him Sombra trying to—” Bolt flinched, and he paused. “What?”

“Sorry,” she said quickly. “His name’s just really close to … Well, you know.”

“Right. Well then, we’ll see if we see any signs of his trying to escape or having already escaped, I’ll signal you from …” He ran his eyes over the trees. “From where Nova is now. Then we can follow … Well, hang on for just a minute.” Bolt nodded as he looked back down at the mountain.

Then what? he asked. Keep chasing? Nova and I are getting pretty weary. “Our next move might depend on what direction he goes in,” he said aloud, almost nodding as he heard his own words. Yeah, that seems spot on. “If he goes west, we have to cut him off. If he goes east … we’ll retreat to The Hummingbird and follow from the air.”

“We can’t track him from here,” Bolt said quickly. “I’ve already lost him a few times. There’s too much cover.”

“But you can keep him guessing while Nova and I take a short break.” A break we need. He could already feel the heat of the airship’s interior settling into his muscles, and he shoved his mind back toward the ground. Nova’s down there, cold. No rest for you unless he gets some. “And if he’s in that camp, resting …” He shook his head. “There’s no way around it. We can’t let him rest up. We’d have to do something. Then—then—if we drive him away, we can take some rest while he’s running in a panic. If he goes east. Keep the airship on him, but rest inside. Just for a little while.” He nodded, more for his own benefit than Bolt’s. “That’s what we’re going to do.”

“I’d better get down and tell Nova,” he said, turning for the door. “Keep an eye on us, and watch out for anything out of the ordinary. If something weird happens …”

“I’ll signal you,” Bolt said.

“Just don’t wake the yeti,” he said, before ducking out of the cockpit and heading back toward the entrance, The Hummingbird rolling beneath him like a ship on the waves. He grabbed a towel as he neared the door, rubbing his wings down as quickly as he could and grimacing as the cloth pushed the feathers out of position. They’d need to be preened later, but at the moment, getting them dry was the best he could do. Pegasus feathers repelled water, but only to a certain point before becoming as bedraggled as the rest of them.

His wings mostly dry once more, he gave a quick, experimental flap, and then left the towel by the hatch before replacing his helmet and snowshoes. Here we go.

The wind tore at him as he opened the hatch, threatening to suck him away. He jumped out, beating his wings against the fury of the storm, green lines glowing across his suit as his magic was the only thing keeping him from being swept away. Hatch timer set, he tucked his wings tight, giving in and dropping like a stone toward the trees below. He stayed in free-fall for several seconds, wind whistling past him, noting how far he’d drifted to the side from the force of the storm, then opened his wings and leveled out into a fast glide, his magic flaring as he sliced through downdrafts and wind-currents.

Nova was still waiting by the edge of the mountain, his body slightly hunched and his horn glowing a pale yellow, probably to help keep him warm. Not much longer and his magic will turn blue. He wasn’t sure what time it was, but as dark as the sky was getting, sundown couldn’t be far off.

“What’s up?” Nova called as Hunter dropped to the snow, his snowshoes sinking into the first inch or so of snow before stopping.

“Yeti camp,” Hunter said. “And our quarry is right in the middle of it.”

Nova’s eyes widened. “Great. Didn’t you warn us about those things being dangerous?”

“Dangerous enough,” he said. “When it storms like this, they’ll make small shelters out of tree-branches and snow and take cover, waiting for it to blow over. Sombra burrowed into the snow in the middle of their camp.”

“Are we going after him?”

He shook his head. “We’ll circle the camp ridge first. See if it’s a diversion. If there’s any sign of him tunneling out.”

Nova nodded. “Then if there isn’t, check the camp?”

“Spot on. As a bonus, if he goes east, we can take a break for a while.”

“Ooh,” Nova said, horn still glowing. “I will drive him east for a break. I could use one.”

“You’ll have to get into The Hummingbird by rope.”

“Still worth it.”

“Right. Well then let’s circle this ridge, see if we can find any signs.” They broke west first, circling the side of the mountain and staying just outside the trees. The light grew even dimmer, the storm overhead thickening, the sun going down, or both. Bolt kept The Humminbird’s searchlights crisscrossing the snow ahead of them, but Hunter activated the lights in his own helmet just in case, letting them pan across the snows as well.

Several minutes later there was still no sign of their quarry, and as they reached the northern apex, the trees grown right up to the edge of the mountain once more, Hunter let out a sigh of relief. No sign. So he probably didn’t go this way.

Probably. They circled around the northern edge, hooves slipping against a steep, upward ridge. That and the snow patterns made the going slow, enough that they could check drifts and piles of snow brought down by small avalanches.

Still, there was no sign. Hard to tell with this much snow having come down, Hunter thought as he climbed over a large snowslide that had, from the weathering, come down the mountain a few days earlier. But it looks pretty clear.

That just left the east. They were walking south now, back toward the ridge they had come up over, the searchlights of The Hummingbird and his helmet-lamps their only light save the occasional flash of lightning. Here the trees were thinner, stretching to the east following the ridge, and they were forced to take their time, checking carefully to make sure someone or something hadn’t slipped past.

Something other than yeti, Hunter thought, his light bouncing off of another set of the bipedal creatures’ tracks. At least they were distinct from the path left by their quarry. There was no way to mistake—

He stopped as something about the tracks caught his eye. Nearby, Nova noticed the movement and crouched into a ready position.

“What’d you find?” he asked, his voice barely audible over the storm. “Sombra’s track?”

“No,” Hunter said, shaking his head as he took a closer look at the tracks. “This is something different.” A series of parallel tracks marred the snow ahead of him, distorted by half-a-day’s worth of weathering. And inside them, a second, smaller set of tracks.

Another yeti? He bent down closer, playing his light over the tracks. Whatever it was, it turned back. Another pack? That would make sense. Competition for a prime camping spot, and the other group got here first.

“I think it was more yetis,” he said, pushing himself back up and brushing snow from his forelegs. “There’s a second set of tracks that turns away. Another, smaller pack looking for a good campsite, probably. Let’s move on.” Nova nodded, and they went back to looking for signs of the shade’s passage.

Before long, they were back at their starting point on the edge of the ridge. They hadn’t found any sign of Sombra’s passage. More importantly, the track that had led them to the ridge was still faintly visible.

“Right then,” Hunter said, looking at Nova. “The camp it is.”

“Okay …” Nova said, his eyes following the track in the snow. Maybe what practice in snow tracking he’d been given had stuck. “Question first: I’ve never fought a yeti before. Anything I should target first?”

“Right.” Of course he would have no idea how to fight a yeti. I gave them a bare rundown what, two days ago? Longer? “They’re faster than they look, and their claws are pretty sharp and tough. Teeth too. But they’re bipedal.”

“So go for the legs.”

“Yeah. Take their legs out from under them. It’s tricky, though, because their arms—foreleg kinda—are pretty long, but it will trip them up.”

“Are they easy to hurt?”

He shook his head. “Not really. They can’t take a hit the way a pony or even a minotaur can, but they’re not frail either. Best target is their gut, the front of the neck, or between the legs if they’re male.”

“So fighting dirty.”

“Hey, they’re not smart enough to vocalize a cheap shot, then I don’t see a problem with taking it. ‘Sides, I’ve seen their claws hit an unsuspecting pony. It ain’t pretty.”

“Are they carnivores?” Nova asked.

“Omnivorous. They eat both. The claws are just really good at peeling bark off of branches, breaking ice, and cutting an attacker or prey to shreds. On the plus side,” he said, nodding down the path as another gust of wind howled over them. “In a storm like this, they’re all going to be hunkered inside their shelters. If we’re quiet and don’t step on one of them, they might let us pass without taking a look. If they think the camp is threatened though, especially any young …”

He didn’t need to finish his sentence. He could see from the expression on Nova’s face that he understood the implications of any creature that perceived a threat to its young.

“But if we do bother them,” he said. “With luck they’ll settle for posturing; try and drive us away from the camp. Unless they’re convinced that we’re a greater threat than the storm, that’s probably all they’ll do.”

“We won’t get to Sombra if that happens, though,” Nova cut in. “Also, the shelters?”

“They weave branches. They’ll look like domes covered in snow. I’ll point them out. But yeah, with luck, it won’t come to that, and we’ll just drive Sombra out and east. But …” Gotta account for everything going wonky, though … “If they do get aggressive, retreat west. With luck they’ll attack Sombra too. If we pull west, that means he can’t follow our tracks, or we’ll corral him between us and the yetis.”

“Unless they can’t harm him,” Nova pointed out.

“Eh, even so we’d still be between him and his goal. West is the fallback. Fighting fallback. If we’re attacked, the males will charge, the females will protect the young. Get to the edge of the camp as quickly as possible, then take out the ones that charge. Once we’re out of the camp and we’ve shown that pursuit is dangerous, they’ll stand down. Again,” he said, looking at him. “If we stir up trouble. Just follow me, and we shouldn’t have any problems.” He began to move into the trees, following the shade’s faint trail.

“Have you done this before?” Nova asked, falling in behind him.

“Sneak into a yeti camp? Yeah. More than once.” A shudder ran through his body, unrelated to the cold, as old memories rolled back at him. “Just … don’t chinwag or make much noise, and we’ll be fine.”

The path wound through the trees, deviating slightly from side to side but otherwise staying mostly on track. Beneath the trees it was both easier and harder to follow—easier because the rush of falling snow had to make it past innumerable branches to cover the trail, but harder because what snow was underhoof had long since frozen over into a thick crust, making the impressions left by the passage of the shade even harder to detect.

They moved deeper into the cluster of trees, light around them growing dim, their path illuminated only by the lights from his helmet and the occasional pass of The Hummingbird. Or an errant blast of lightning. The shadows, meanwhile, seemed all the darker for what little light they had.

Still, it didn’t prevent him from spotting the first sign that they were nearing the yeti camp. Fresh slashes marred the bark of a nearby tree, the pale flesh of the wood bright against the otherwise dark skin. He walked up close to it, eyeing the cuts.

A couple of hours ago, roughly, he thought as he spotted the dried sap, the frost and snow stuck to the splinters. But not for food or shelter. The mark was strictly a territorial one, and from a large male too. Maybe seven feet high, Hunter thought, a faint crawling sensation working its way down his spine. Pack leader, maybe. Either way, it was big.

They spotted more signs as they moved forward. Stripped bark laying in piles atop the snow where the yeti had peeled it in long strips before eating the soft, inner layer. Lower branches that had been broken free to serve as shelters. He spotted the first of those moments later, a soft, rounded half-dome poking above the snow. He pointed it out to Nova before moving on.

“That thing’s not very big,” Nova said, his voice so quiet Hunter had to pause in his steps to keep the crunch of snow from obscuring it. “How small are these things?”

“They’re big,” he said, moving close. “The dome?” He pointed at the disheveled snow around the edges and then motioned his hoof downward. “Dug out.”

Nova’s eyes widened. “How far?”

“To the ground, usually.”

“We’re in what … six feet of snow?”

“Maybe more.”

“Right …” he heard Nova mutter as he led them well around the dome. “Okay then.” Ahead of them the trail continued in a straight line, moving for a break in the trees surrounded by at least half-a-dozen of the domes. And in the center of that …

A single bit of black crystal, poking out of the snow.

Another faint chill crawled down Hunter’s spine. Another one of those black crystals. He shifted his wings as his heart began to pick up the pace. That must have something to do with his regeneration. He glanced at the nearby domes. None of them were near the crystal, instead clustered near trees or otherwise out of the open. And away from the worst of the storm, he thought. Which serves as a nice barrier for Sombra. He took another step forward, his mane prickling. If we just—

“Stop.” Nova’s quiet voice froze him in place, though he didn’t want to. He felt like he needed to run, to move, to—

“Relax,” Nova said, his horn glowing a very, very faint blue. “Hunter, I feel it too. It’s magic. Emotion magic.”

Wha—No … He took a step back, glancing down at his hooves. We felt the same thing at the last crystal. It’s just stronger now. “Magic fear?”

“A field,” Nova said, nodding.

“Why isn’t it affecting the yeti?” He stayed still, one hoof above the snow.

Nova shook his head. “I don’t know. But don’t move. There’s more than that. There’s a ring of some kind.”

“Trap?”

“Most likely.”

“Can you disable it?”

“Maybe?” Nova’s horn glowed a little lighter. “It’s not familiar to me. It’s doing the same thing the last one was doing though. Pushing out that fear and sucking in nearby magic.”

“Well … we can’t let him do that.”

“No,” Nova said, the blue light at the end of his horn winking out. “Any ideas?”

“Pulsing him worked last time.”

“Except we didn’t take advantage of it.”

“True dinkum. That, and last time we didn’t have guests.” He glanced at the nearby domes. That’s nine of them. Big pack. And they’d be hungry too, with winter coming on. Plus, if Sombra can make us feel afraid …

Big pack and terrified. We’re being outsmarted by a floating cloud of smoke.

“We could always throw rocks at it.”

Hunter gave Nova what he hoped looked like an unamused glare beneath his helmet. “Are we back to that again? And let the Princesses hear that their very expensive unit of elite guard resort to that first?”

“Hey, if it works—”

“I didn’t say it was a bad idea. Just don’t let the Princesses hear about it.” But it could work. It might shatter that thing. “We’d have to find a rock first.” And every second we spend thinking he’s recovering. “What about blasting it?”

“Just blasting it?”

Hunter shrugged. “Can you?”

“Yeah, but I have no idea what might happen.” Nova lowered his voice as the storm shifted for a moment, the wind dying before returning in force and sweeping a flurry of snow across the clearing. “There are spells I don’t know on it.” He shook his head, snow falling from his helmet. “Active spells. Give me a few minutes and I might be able to identify some of them, but—”

“Do it.” It was risky letting the shard just sit there, poking out of the snow and pulsing with a strange light, but it was better than doing nothing. Or diving in to land without checking the ground. He took a slow step back, making sure to keep his center of balance low and at the ready as Nova went to work, horn glowing.

A minute passed, and then another. “Any luck?” he whispered.

Nova shook his head. “I’m seeing some familiar spellwork, but it’s all …”

“Archaic?”

“I was going to say weird. I can see some familiar stuff, but there’s a lot here I don’t understand. And there’s a lot of—” He shivered, a tremor running down the unicorn’s back. “A lot of dark magic here, from what I can see.”

“You okay?” Hunter asked.

“I’m fine,” Nova said, another shiver running down his back. “It’s just … not pretty. There’s emotion bound up in this. Hate, fear … it’s so raw. It’s like … like sticking your hoof into oil. It’s black, sludgy, and you can feel it soaking into your coat—” Nova’s voice was getting louder, not by a lot, but by a little.

“Nova, pull back.”

“I’ve almost got it.” Something was bubbling at the tip of Nova’s horn, something that seemed to soak up all available light, oozing across the pale blue field like a rot.

“Pull back now, private. That’s an order.”

With a gasp, Nova snapped his head back, the magic field around his horn winking out with a faint pop. The black miasma seemed to hang in the air a moment longer before breaking apart and fading as well.

Nova dropped back on his haunches, and Hunter was next to him in an instant. “Nova?” he asked, grabbing the colt’s helmet and swinging it around so that he could get a look at his eyes. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Nova said, blinking and then pushing Hunter’s hoof away. “I just … Princess Luna has shown me dark magic before, but that …”

“Bad?”

Nova nodded. “Luna was a stream. Just a warning, so I could recognize it.” He tilted his horn in the direction of the crystal. “That … was an ocean. I’ve never felt anything like it. So much … hate. Anger. Madness.” He shivered again.

“Are you alright?” Hunter cocked his head to one side, checking Nova’s horn and then eyes again. Both looked clear. If Sombra got inside his head …

“I’m okay. None of it got on me. I was careful. But … you were right to tell me to pull back. I … I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Did you recognize anything? Anything that could help?” Hunter let out a faint breath he almost hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He looks okay.

“Not much,” Nova said quietly, shaking his head. “Some of it was familiar, but … different. Maybe older versions of spells? But there was something else there. I’m not sure what it was. But it was powerful, and entwined into the spell itself.”

“Powerful? That doesn’t make sense. He’s supposed to be weak, unless …” He paused. Unless he was a shade, a being of magic with no body, and—

“Feathers,” he said, spinning to look at the crystal.

“What?” Nova asked, dropping into a combat stance. The crystal looked just the same as it had moments ago.

“Maybe nothing …” he said as he watched the crystal shape pulse. “But doesn’t it seem strange to you how much power you felt in that magic when he’s supposed to be weak?”

Nova’s eyes widened. “Maybe it’s a trap?”

“We know it’s a trap,” Hunter said. The crystal continued to pulse. “But he’s a shade, a being of magic. What if all that hatred you felt wasn’t the spell, but him?”

“That’s …” Nova’s voice trailed off. “Not impossible. And if it isn’t, then he—”

“Might already know we’re here,” Hunter said. “Maybe. But it’s not a chance I want to take.” He reached inside himself, readying his mod. “So here’s what we’re going to—”

A black wave exploded out of the point of the crystal, rolling across the clearing so quickly he barely had time to spread his wings before it washed over him. A cold chill, colder than anything he’d ever felt seemed to roll across his body, stealing his breath and cutting into his very soul. His muscles locked, his wings half-extended, and for a moment, he wanted to do nothing more than flee, flee as fast as his locked body could exert itself.

But he couldn’t move. The cold wave faded, the fear abating, but his muscles were still stiff, unresponsive. Paralyzation spell, he thought, recognizing the effects. And a strong one.

Still, he could feel the edge of one wing twitching, thousands of pinpricks rolling down it in a wave as sensation returned. In a few moments more he’d be able to move. He willed his limbs to shift, trying to speed the process.

The snow around him rippled, something speeding through the surface. A low rumble filled the air, the sound of dozens of growls working in unison. He pushed at his limbs harder, shouting in his mind for them to move as long, thick claws rose through the nearest snow dome, shoving the shelter aside in a shower of powder and clumps of snow. The shaggy shoulders of a yeti, eyes glowing with some internal fire, rose through the opening, then narrowed on him.

Then, with a howl, it leapt.

Chapter 18

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They left the captain behind them, running down the street at a full gallop, neither of them speaking. Dawn’s worried tone and expression had said it all, as had the captain’s own grim instructions. A knot of worry was churning at Sabra’s gut, rolling and roiling with each hoofbeat, driving him forward. Ahead of them, still blocks away, he could see the peak of the watchtower.

And the flashes of light echoing from it, lighting the skyline of the city.

He put his head down, increasing his pace and pulling ahead of Dawn. A signal from the tower was bad, no matter what it meant. Whether the signal meant that they’d found out about the loss of their southern-based companion, noticed the horde of crystal ponies moving their way, or even just alerted the rest of the city to his and Dawn’s location, it didn’t matter. It meant that the tower was on the alert. And a whole host of crystal ponies were moving straight for it.

They had to get there first.

A bright light lit the darkening skyline, far brighter than the light from the watchtower, and Sabra pulled his head back, slowing his pace as the peak of the tower at the center of the city pulsed once more. Again the image of grey unicorn’s head appeared floating above the tower, eyes burning with contempt.

“Citizens of the Crystal Empire,” the unicorn said, their voice echoing across the city until it almost seemed like it was layered over itself. “Return to your homes. Rebellion against our rightful and glorious king will not be tolerated. Those who reject his leadership are traitors to us all.”

“Keep moving!” Dawn shouted as she galloped past Sabra, and with a start he realized how much he’d slowed. He threw himself forward, even as the gigantic illusion continued to speak.

“I say again, return to your homes until order is restored. Do not venture outside your doors. Those who disobey during this trying time will be treated as traitors to the empire and dealt with.” There was a harsh finality to the way the unicorn said “dealt with.”

“Remember your families,” the voice continued as Sabra followed Dawn over a fence. The tower was getting closer, only a few streets away now. “Your loved ones. What dangers could befall any of them if one foolishly exposes them to danger?”

More a threat than a warning, Sabra thought, following Dawn over another fence.

“Those of you who have taken to the streets, disband. Return home in proper obedience to the natural order, and you will be spared.” Sabra’s hooves skidded against the paving stones as he landed. “Those who do not—”

“Alarm!”

A blue glow slashed past the side of his head, Sabra throwing himself to the side as the beam vaporized a portion of the fence he’d been about to leap over. A glance up the street showed him the source of the attack: Three unicorns clad in the armor of the Order. Worse, one of them was waving down a side street, yelling for attention.

The tower’s reinforcements, Sabra thought as he threw his body back the way he had come, tapping slightly into his strength mod to give the long, vertical leap a bit more power. Another blue beam flashed through the space he’d just vacated, the lead unicorn tracking him but not quite quickly enough.

“Equestrians!” one of the unicorns yelled, even as the illusion from the center of the tower prattled on. “Take them!”

Another beam shot at him, this one contiguous, and Sabra ducked and jumped once more as the beam slashed through another fence. Rather than vaporizing, the wood blew apart where the beam touched it, splinters flying in all directions as the attack cut across it. The other two unicorns were moving forward now, their own horns lighting up as Sabra threw himself out of the path of the beam. Whatever it was, it wasn’t enough to cut through the side of a home, thankfully.

A bright orb flew down the street toward the trio, bouncing once before exploding in a bright flash so vivid that Sabra’s visor dimmed. Cries of shock and surprise echoed after it as the flashbomb spell faded, and he took advantage of the moment to leap up atop the house he was taking cover behind, moving across the rooftop.

Dawn’s spell had clearly caught the trio by surprise, all three of them clutching at their eyes as the medic moved down the other side of the street. Then one’s horn flashed, a wave of red light sweeping over each of them, and their eyes opened, searching for their attackers.

The lead unicorn’s eyes locked on Sabra as he jumped again, trying to get enough distance to come down atop him, but it was too late. The same blue beam flashed out and collided with his flank.

Pain blossomed along his hindquarters, every part of them feeling twisted, squeezed, and somehow pulled in every direction at once as the world flipped around him. A moment later he was flying across the street the trio were standing in, his body crashing into the roof of a nearby home and bouncing before he was able to roll himself upright and land on his hooves.

What was that? His entire right side ached like Captain Song had bucked him cleanly, right down to the bone. The unicorn that had attacked him turned her attention on Dawn, horn glowing once more and sending the same blue beam toward the medic.

Dawn got a shield up just in time, the beam colliding with a loud crack that briefly drowned out the still-echoing voice of the illusion at the center of the city. Even then, the force of whatever the spell was threw her back, hooves sliding across the soil as the other two unicorns moved forward, their own horns glowing.

He jumped, pushing through his mod to cover the distance and pulling out his Fimbo. The beam swept in his direction, missing him but catching the edge of his staff just before he crashed down into the lead unicorn. The staff was torn from his hooves, flying across the street. But it wasn’t quite enough. He crashed down atop the unicorn’s hindquarters, hooves driving her legs down as he brought his full weight to bear against the mare. She collapsed with a scream, the beam vanishing just before it could collide with him once more.

He rolled, tucking his legs and head close in to make himself a smaller target as he flipped over the mare’s back, coming up on his hooves on her other side. He spun, whipping his eyes across the scene—and jumped almost immediately as a blast of flame roared at him from the nearest unicorn. The bare edges of the flame licked at his armor, but were gone before he felt the heat, and he threw his hooves up as the caster followed in the wake of his attack, opting for hoof-to-hoof combat.

It was a mistake. Magically, the unicorn had a decent chance, but in closing the distance, even with his horn, they were at a severe disadvantage. Their stance was sloppy, their timing poor, and three quick, rapid blows were enough to batter the stallion cross-eyed. Sabra turned away, not even bothering to watch the unicorn topple to the pavement, just in time to see a strange blue orb from a second group of unicorns rushing down a connecting street arc through the air and land at his feet.

He jumped back, emptying his mod a mere second before the orb exploded. The shockwave lifted him even further, throwing him through the air even as his visor tinted once more. Glass—or was it crystal?—shattered as both the force of his leap and the explosion hurled him through the front window of a home. Screams from inside echoed inside his head as he slammed through furniture, coming to a stop atop the ruins of a wooden table.

It hurt, but nothing felt broken. Sky’s armor had done its job. He shoved himself up, broken glass and pieces of wood falling from his barrel. His eyes located the source of the screams he’d heard. Off to his right, a young-looking crystal stallion stood in an open doorway with wide eyes, body half-hunched over a younger filly. Daughter? Sibling?

There was no time to ask. Another globe like the one that had launched him through the window was already flying through the open window, arcing right for him.

Move! Instinct or training—maybe both—took over, and he threw himself to the side,slamming into the two crystal ponies and shoving them through the doorway, shielding them with his own body and managing to kick the door closed with one rear hoof. The three of them hit the floor, skidded across it, and—

The door behind them exploded, wooden slivers flying through the room—Kitchen?—and bouncing off of his armor. He rose as soon as the impacts stopped, looking down at the two ponies he’d just protected. “Uko—Are you okay?” The pair stared up at him, eyes open wide.

Shock. They’d both just nearly been killed. There was no time to wait for them to reply. He turned, eyes catching sight of the home’s front door. The needle in the corner of his helmet was at zero, his mod empty. If I had magic—

A hoof touched his shoulder, and he froze. “Thank you,” the crystal pony said. He was glowing, as was the smaller filly. A surge seemed to rush across his armor, the normally-purple lines flashing with pure light before fading back to the more familiar shade he was used to. The battery-indicator jumped, the needle rising in a sudden jump.

“Nae—You’re welcome.” There was no time to talk. He could hear more spells coming from outside. Dawn needed his help.

He slammed through the front door, breaking the latch to pieces. The original trio were down, Dawn having subdued the last one with what appeared to be both more lengths of rope and her own magic, but the ones that had thrown the explosive spell had retaliated and pushed her back. Worse, there were six of them: three maintaining a set of spells that were cascading over Dawn’s shield—make that two, the third was a crystal pony—two that were moving forward with long spears gripped in their magic, and the last moving across the lawn toward where he’d flown through the window, horn aglow with what was probably another explosive spell.

They didn’t get a chance to cast it. They turned, eyes widening as Sabra rushed at them, an orb of incandescent red energy forming at the very point of their horn … and then Sabra’s hoof crashed into their jaw, the full force of his rush and his mod behind it. The unicorn’s head snapped back with a cascading, meaty-sounding crack, the force of the impact enough to carry their now limp body with it through the air. Part of Sabra’s mind seemed to recoil in horror, but there was no time to think. He was already turning, directing his momentum toward the three ponies sending spell after spell at Dawn.

Except they weren’t. Both of them were turning, and a glow burst into being around his armor, a telekinetic spell, trying to hold him back, only to slip free of the crystal armor’s reflective surface.

He crashed into the trio a second later, no quarter given. Blood flew through the air as his blows cut through tough skin and shattered bone. All three fell, his blows a blur as he danced between them. As the last hit the paving stones, horn shattered by a heavy blow, he turned, only to see that Dawn had baited the last two forward before seizing their weapons with another enchanted length of rope and turning them against their owners. At least, that was what he guessed had happened: The two’s weapons were tied between them, blood on the blades, and both owners were bleeding from wounds to their hind legs. Their hamstrings had been cut.

A cold wave seemed to wash over him as he stared down at the two Order unicorns, freezing every limb. He looked around, searching for another attacker, but there weren’t any. It was over. Worse, he recognized the feeling filling him. His breath was coming in short, violent gasps, his movements suddenly jerky. His legs felt unsteady as he turned to look at the other unicorns he’d attacked.

The one that had fired the beam had been cooked by the explosion, skin blistered and peeled back. One of her legs was mostly gone. The unicorn he’d delivered such a solid hit to was lying still in the street, head at an impossible angle. The spellcasting trio lay bloodied in the street.

I did this. The thought seemed to break over him like a rolling wave as he staggered to the side of the street. Dawn shouted something, but her voice didn’t register, simply noise that seemed to echo around inside his head. Everything seemed to be blurring together, his limbs shaky and weak.

He fumbled at his helmet straps as his insides gave another lurch, tearing his helmet off as a sudden urgency made itself known. Vomit spilled over the street as his sides and gut heaved, spilling his lunch out across the paving stones. A sharp, acidic bile scent reached his nose as his retching continued. The world was wet and blurry.

Finally he stopped, gasping as his stomach finished emptying itself. His entire body was shaking, almost vibrating with a furious intensity as his insides quieted. His cheeks were wet with tears.

“Sabra.”

His name was repeated twice before it registered, and he turned to see Dawn looking at him, her blue eyes staring into his. “Sabra,” she said again. “Are you all right?”

He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He wasn’t sure there were words for how he felt. He could still taste the bile on his tongue, the acid pungent and putrid at the same time. His eyes kept flicking back to the ponies that had died—that he had killed—lying in the middle of the street.

“Sabra.” Dawn’s voice called his gaze back. “Breathe, Sabra. Breathe. Nice and easy.”

He found his voice. “But—”

“Easy, Sabra. Easy.” Her forelegs wrapped around him, pulling him into a tight embrace. “I know. But listen to me.” Dawn pulled back slightly, looking right in his eyes. “It’s a shock, I know. But you’re a sage, Sabra. You know this is what a war can do.”

“I …” His throat seized.

“It had to happen, Sabra,” Dawn said. “There’s a point of no return, and those ponies were past it. The only way to avoid what happened was for them to back down or us to give up. And we couldn’t do that. Understand?”

He nodded. His mouth still stank.

“What you’re feeling now is good, Sabra,” Dawn continued. Somewhere off in the distance, the sound of hoofsteps galloping quickly reached his ears, and Dawn must have heard it a moment later, because she turned for a moment to see what it was before bringing her eyes back to his. “You feel horrible. Sick. I know.” For a moment she paused, her voice going quiet. “Some of us can’t handle that feeling. But you did what you had to do, Sabra? Understand? They were going to kill. Kill and enslave. Do you understand?”

Her words washed some of the sting away, and he nodded. But his chest still felt hollow, like somepony had scooped out his heart and replaced it with a dull piece of stone.

“It had to happen,” Dawn said again, and the words stirred something in his own mind. He nodded again, though more for himself.

You knew this could happen, he thought, forcing his eyes to look at the bodies once more. You just didn’t understand, and you knew that you didn’t understand it.

He swallowed, the taste of his own bile sending a shiver through him. Now you understand.

The rushing hoofsteps drew closer, slowing, and he turned to see Captain Song. The captain took in the scene in an instant, eyes rolling over the bodies, the damage, then fixing on Sabra and his discarded helmet.

“Specialist Sabra?” he asked, stepping forward. “How do you feel?”

Sabra swallowed again before trusting himself to speak. “Awful.” His voice sounded strange in his ears. Weak. Shaky.

“Here.” Dawn pressed a canteen into his hoof, and it took him a moment to realize it was his own. “Wash your mouth out.” He did, spitting onto the stones near his vomit, then took a long drink.

“I’m sorry, Sabra,” Steel said, his voice quiet. “This … This is the one thing training really can’t prepare you for. The only way to face it … is to face it.”

Sabra nodded, then took another drink. His stomach felt swollen, even though he’d only had the two sips. The shock seemed to be fading now. He still felt hollow, but the world seemed to be coming back into being around him.

“The final test,” Steel said, still looking down at Sabra. “That’s why I’ve been telling you to hit them so hard, Sabra. I couldn’t have you reaching this point until after you could afford to.” He shook his head. “I know it hurts. You feel sick. I’m sorry. But specialist, I need you to push through it. It …” He let out a low breath. “It gets easier. Not the—not your opponent dying. But the dealing with it. But right now, I need to know that you can deal with it.” His eyes locked with Sabra’s. “Because there’s an entire city counting on us to be able to do that.”

“Captain …” Dawn said, her tone warning.

“It’s not called a ‘trial by fire’ because it’s kind or easy, Sergeant Triage,” Steel said, not taking his eyes off of Sabra. “Specialist, I need to know if you can do this again. Because if you can, we need you right now.”

Sabra opened his mouth, but no words came. What do I say? The ache in his chest, the sick feeling of guilt and agony, seemed to shove against him, and … His eyes fell on his helmet.

I told the captain when I agreed to serve that I would be a Dusk Guard. With all that it entails. Beyond the helmet, he could see the home he’d smashed through the front window of, and past that the front room.

It was utterly destroyed.

They did that, Sabra thought, eyes widening and shifting to the limp body on the street. The Order did that. They were going to kill you, and anyone in that room. His mind flashed back to the pair he’d shielded with his own body, the feeling of wooden pieces shattering against his armor. The voice echoing across the city came back to him as the world seemed to snap back into focus.

“—treason is punishable by death.” The voice said, the image winking out a moment later.

No. He took a long, deep breath, chest swelling as the hollow in his heart began to fade. No. I can’t let that happen. A warmth was moving through him now, a warm heat that burned away the sick feeling in his gut. It wasn’t hatred, though there was anger in it, but beneath it …

Purpose. Captain Song was still looking at him, concern showing through his visor. Sabra rose, pushing himself off of his haunches, and stepped over to his helmet. Without a word he slipped it into place, tightened the straps, and looked at the captain.

“Sabra?” Steel asked.

“Specialist Sabra, reporting for duty, captain.” The words flowed in an easy rush. “Ready to serve.”

“Glad to hear it.” Captain Song seemed to slump slightly, relaxing. “Are you going to be okay?”

Sabra thought for a moment before nodding. “I will not hold back captain, it … hurts. Aches.” He tapped his chest with one hoof. “Right here. But …” He glanced at the shattered home front. “We are Dusk Guard.” An old saying, one he’d read years ago, sprang to mind. “We bear the pain so that others will not.” Old words, from long before the Guard, from the founding of the Plainslands and the war with the jackals, but for the first time, he almost felt like he understood them.

“You’ll need this.” His Fimbo floated over to him, held by Dawn’s orange magic. Dawn stared at him as he took it. “Are you sure, Sabra?”

He nodded. “I am. The Order must be stopped.”

Captain Song nodded. “Then let’s go do it. Now!” He turned and ran off at a gallop, heading for the distant tower.

The tower! He hadn’t looked at it in minutes, and he could see spells firing from its peak, striking down at something on the street. A cool fire seemed to roll through him. The crystal ponies.

They needed help. And the Dusk Guard was on the way. Later, when all of this was over, he could curl into a ball and try to drive away the memory of what he’d done, or at least process it.

But until then, he was needed.

They heard the fight before they saw it, screams and cries echoing across the city. Then they swept around a corner in the road, and the full tableau was before them.

It was chaos. Spells were flying in all directions, mostly from the tower peak and the front door of the station, where the Order seemed to have set up a defensive line. The crystal ponies opposing them didn’t seem to have much in the way of magic to defend themselves … but what they did have was numbers and makeshift projectiles. Chair legs, rocks, even a few bows.

And numbers. There had been at least fifty or sixty of them. Now there were maybe forty. And more were dropping with every cascade of spellwork from the Order. Sabra could see a few of the crystal ponies cowering already, taking cover with looks of despair on their faces. Malnourished and beaten down, it was amazing they had gotten as far as they had gotten.

At a high cost, he thought, his eyes sliding to the wounded and dead lying along the stones. The losses seemed to be hitting them even harder. Already he could see a few starting to move back. They were close to routing.

“Sabra!” Steel called, his voice echoing down the street. “Take down that sniper!”

“Yes sir!” Fire raced through his blood as he increased his pace, sliding under a hasty spell thrown his direction and leaping over the next one. He was past the mob of crystal ponies in an instant, catching sight of Steel slamming a shield down over a group of the most dangerously exposed, sending several spells ricocheting off its surface. Dawn did likewise, using her magic to pull several ponies under the cover of the shield and out of the open.

“Equestrians!” one of the Order members cried, and Sabra caught sight of their terrified expression as he soared overhead, landing on the roof. “Equestri—”

A chunk of crystal, kicked by Steel at speeds that had probably taken earth-pony magic, cut the unicorn’s cry off with a wet thunk.

Sabra leaped again, a spell from above narrowly missing him as he landed on one of the spikes … only for a second shot to come down in front of him while he was still jumping for the second, coating the spike he’d been aiming to land on in a thin, translucent aura.

Wha—

Then his front hooves hit the spike and slid right off, the enchanted surface offering no traction, and he understood what had happened. He skipped over the crystal, his midsection bouncing off of it, and tumbled into the open air beyond. As he fell, something hit his back, and the speed at which he was falling doubled, then tripled.

He pushed at his mod as hard as he could, strength filling every fiber of his being as the needle in the corner began to tilt swiftly to the left—

Impact. There was no time to bring his legs completely under him. Only instinct and training kept one of them from folding underneath him, mod or no mod. As it was, there was a sharp crack that seemed to echo through his skull … and then he skidded across the roof, his armor shrieking against the roofing in a cacophony of squeals that seemed to echo on for far too long.

At last he stopped, though he hadn’t slid more than a few feet, and for a moment all he could do was lay there, struggling for breath. His whole body hurt, but with none of the sharp agony that came from a broken bone. Though there was a pounding in his head that seemed to be in time with his heart.

Your heart is still pumping blood. And he didn’t feel any warm, sticky wet patches anywhere either. That is a good thing. No bleeding, at least not externally. Between the mod and the armor, he didn’t seem to have any major injuries.

So then why isn’t that sniper—? Of course. The Order unicorn probably assumed he was dead, after an assisted fall from such a height. Most ponies would be, save perhaps a pegasus. Whatever spell the unicorn had used to shove him down, it had at least tripled his speed before impact. I wouldn’t be surprised to see that I bounced.

Nor was he surprised to see, when he moved his legs under him, that several pieces of his armor had thin, narrow fractures running through them. His head let out a throb of pain as he pushed himself up, legs shaking a bit and the world tilting before stabilizing. Still, there were no stabs of sudden pain that said he shouldn’t move, just dull constant throbs.

The tower, he thought, turning. Gotta take that tower out. He was behind it now, and spells were raining down from the front at the street. His eyes flicked momentarily to a selection of shattered roofing tiles, and he gaped. Some of them were little more than powder, while others had broken into dozens of pieces from the force of the impact.

And yet I’m alive, he thought, placing one hoof in front of another and staggering over to the base of the tower. The world wasn’t tilting quite so much anymore, but his limbs still felt sluggish. Tower. Must take out the tower.

Above him, he could see the ladder of spikes making their way up the side of the tower, but a glance at his mod showed that he wouldn’t be able to make the jumps anytime soon. There’s … There’s got to be another way. He couldn’t just stop.

The roof shook, a deep rumble sounding over the din of the battle. From the cries of surprise down below, Captain Song had unleashed his earth pony magic,

Sniper. He pulled his thoughts back, giving his head a slight shake and fighting back a moan of pain as the movement only made his headache worse. Can’t jump up the spikes. The building shook again, cries of pain coming from the front.

What about the stairs? But the stairs were on the inside of the tower. To get to them, he’d need to go inside through the front doors. Unless …

He took another look at the tower, thinking back to the few times he’d run up and down the steps of each one. They start … there, he thought, pacing around the exterior wall. And they’re all pretty much identical and unadorned. Which means …

He took a step back, trying to line up memories that felt like they’d been coated in oil. Which means … there’s a support here … he thought, pressing his hoof against the wall of the watchtower. And one roughly here … He moved a few feet to the side and put a hoof up against the crystal wall of the tower again. But in between …

He pulled his hoof back, ready to strike, then paused and unsheathed his Fimbo. You likely have a head injury, he thought as he reared up on his hind legs, swaying slightly and holding the staff in his forehooves. Otherwise you’d be thinking much more quickly and wouldn’t be swaying like this trying to keep from falling off of your hooves.

He took a quick look up at the peak of the tower. The spells coming down were still striking at the front of the station. Okay … now or never. Another rumble shook the ground, and he pulled his Fimbo back, angling the tip at the crystal side of the tower.

Now! The lines in his suit flared as he drove the staff forward. It hit with a solid impact that resonated up his hooves, coming to a dead stop against the crystal.

Nothing. Wait … A faint chip was missing from the wall, a tiny divot against the otherwise smooth shape. Again. Once more the impact of the staff rolled up his hooves, but this time there was more missing from the side of the tower than a single chip when he pulled the staff back.

Again. The crystal cracked, jagged lines radiating out from the tip of his Fimbo. Another blow, and they doubled in number.

He reached for his mod, limbs burning as he summoned what little power it had regained, and slammed the point of the staff home once more.

The wall shattered, breaking apart into dozens of thick, heavy shards that tumbled over one another as they fell inward across the stairs. He followed, staggering over the broken pieces through the opening and onto the steep, narrow steps.

Come on Sabra. One hoof in front of the other. Was he getting better? It was hard to tell. But he was making it up, one step at a time.

Everything still hurt, and the throbbing in his head just wouldn’t go away. The circling of the stairway was making him dizzy as well. Somewhere down below, there was a heavy crash that echoed up at him, and then the dimly-lit stairway in front of him went bright.

A body followed the light a moment later, a unicorn frantically rushing down the steps, eyes going wide as he caught sight of Sabra. Then the Fimbo collided with his legs, and Sabra stepped to the side as the unicorn’s rapid descent became an uncontrollable tumble. He watched them pass, then resumed his upward pace. The door to the tower nest was open, only half a rotation upwards from where he’d met the unicorn, and he poked his head out of it.

The nest was empty. The sniper had been the one he’d taken down on the stairs. Or they’d gotten down some other way.

He turned around, making his way down the steps with slow, measured movements. Echoes rolled up at him from below, hoofsteps shaking the tower, and he readied his Fimbo just before Captain Song appeared around the curve of the steps.

“Captain,” Sabra said. His voice sounded slightly slurred to his own ears, and his salute seemed … off, somehow. Like his hoof wasn’t quite reaching the proper position. “Tower secure.”

“Understood and at ease,” Steel said, not bothering to return the salute. “Dawn!” His bellow echoed up and down the stairwell. “Get up here! Now! Sabra, you need to take a seat.”

“Nin—I’d like that, captain,” he said, putting a hoof against the inner wall of the tower as the world seemed to spin again. He could hear more hooves charging up the staircase, and from somewhere below that, a strange rushing sound. Cheering?

“I’m here,” Dawn said as she rounded the turn. “What—?” Her eyes moved to Sabra, and she paused. “Sun above, Sabra. Don’t move. Get his helmet off.” She jerked a hoof at the captain, and Sabra almost flinched at how quickly Steel was in front of him, hooves fumbling with his helmet and pulling it off. An orange light filled his eyes a moment later, and he squeezed them shut.

“Don’t.” Dawn’s harsh tone caught at his attention, and he opened them again, though still squinting. She was right in front of him now, her muzzle and face filling his vision, the glow from her horn almost blinding.

“Concussion,” she said quickly, the light from her horn fading slightly. “Massive bruising. I don’t think there are any internal injuries, but there may be a few micro-fractures that will ache for a while without proper treatment.”

Wait … those are my injuries, he realized with surprise. Concussion? He tried to remember what the word was in Zebrish. Mtikiso? That certainly explained the headache. “Kichwa yangu inawuma.”

“I’m sorry,” Dawn said, shaking her head as her horn lit again. “But I don’t know enough Zebrish to know what you said. Can you—?”

“Sorry,” he mumbled, switching his mind back to the Equestrian tongue. “My head hurts.”

“I would imagine so,” she said, still running her magic over him. It tickled slightly. “You seem to have suffered massive blunt trauma, more than I would have expected from such a fall. What happened?”

“The unicorn,” he said. “Made the spikes slick. Once I fell, he sped me up.”

“That would do it.” Dawn moved to one side, and he noticed that Steel had already left, leaving him in Dawn’s hooves. “Can you walk?”

“A little.”

“How many lights am I making right now?” A series of colored globes floated out of the end of her horn.

“Six?”

“Good.” The lights vanished. “You can walk.” She moved up against his side and grabbed one of his hooves, draping it over her shoulders. “Lean on me.”

“I—” He started to pull his hoof back.

“Lean on me.” There was no arguing with the tone in her voice, and he complied. “Good. Now right this way … Easy does it.” They moved down the steps, the world spinning a little less, and before long they were at the bottom, in a dimly lit room.

“This will have to do,” Dawn said, stopping. “Lie down right there, but do not put your head down, understand?” He nodded, and she pulled her saddlebags from her armor. A moment later a portable magilectric lamp lit up, casting a bright light over everything. Dawn pulled a second, smaller lamp from her bags and, removing her helmet, set the penlight behind one ear.

Sabra took a quick moment to look around the inside of the station as Dawn pulled more out of her saddlebags. There were crystal ponies scattered all around them, and not all of them were wandering aimlessly as a few were, either. Some were busily smashing anything they could get their hooves on, and he wondered for a moment why the captain hadn’t spoken to them before he saw Steel taking care of a few Order members, binding their hooves while, from the look of things, keeping the crystal ponies from taking their aggression out on them now that they were prisoners.

He could hear cries of shock and anger from downstairs as well, followed by similar cries of “Be free!” as the cells were opened. Some ponies just seemed to be in shock. Others he could see through the doorway checking on those that had fallen out in the street. They weren’t a small number.

That’s my fault, he thought as one of the crystal ponies sank over the body of another, sobbing a name over and over again. I wasn’t fast enough.

“Don’t.” Dawn said, snapping his focus back to her. She tilted her head in the direction of the doors. “I know that look. I’ve seen it before on a lot of faces. Don’t.”

“But—” he began.

“No,” Dawn said. “You tried, gave it your all. Anyone who can see your injuries can see that.” The light shone in his eyes once more, blinding him. “Don’t close. You’re not perfect, Sabra. None of us are. If we were, well … We wouldn’t need to be here now, would we?” Her magic washed over him once more. “You were called to do something and you answered that call. Sometimes that doesn’t mean we succeed. For instance …” The magic vanished, and she pulled something from her saddlebags. “Open your mouth.” He complied and two pills floated onto his tongue. “Swallow.” He complied.

“But for instance, if we always succeeded, the Rangers wouldn’t have needed a doctor of my caliber. Or any caliber, for that matter.” Her magic was rolling over him, and then she was motioning for him to stand. As soon as he had done so, she reached over and began tugging the zipper on the back of his suit down. The enchantment that held his armor in place broke, the plates and pieces falling to the ground and leaving him clad only in his undersuit. The noise was loud enough that it caught the attention of several crystal ponies, their stares only increasing as they saw what was going on.

One of them walked over. “What is that?” they asked. Dawn flinched.

“This is Specialist Sabra,” she said, rounding on the crystal pony. “And he is a zebra and an Equestrian Dusk Guard. Not a ‘that.’”

The crystal pony shrank back, shaking in alarm. “Not him,” they said quickly. “That!” They pointed a hoof at the magilight sitting on the ground, and then the one behind her ear. “Though,” they said, turning their eyes to Sabra. “I’ve never met a zebra before. Only heard stories. Is it true—?”

“He’s a patient with a concussion, and in no state to answer questions at this time,” Dawn said. “Apologies for my outburst, but I must tend to him before I can tend to your wounded compatriots. These are magilectric lights, one of many advances in the years you’ve been away. Now, I must see to the specialist’s needs. If you would …?” The crystal pony backed away before sitting down nearby to watch.

“Thank you,” Dawn said, though she had already turned her focus back to Sabra. “As I was saying Sabra, you tried. Did you make a mistake?” She shrugged. “I don’t know. Whether or not you did, having seen what you did to that wall, I have no doubt you acted at the height of your capacities to do so. Stay standing.” Her magic rolled over him again, this time much slower. “One MTBI, several small fractures, and mass bruising along both sides of your body, though the right side seems older than the left. And …” She frowned. “You have many small tears in the muscle along your right hind-side as well. What was that from?”

“The beam from the first trio we faced. On the way here.”

“Interesting.” Dawn’s eyes narrowed. “It’s as if your muscles and bones were torn in multiple directions at once. A curious spell … but nothing I can’t help with. Hold still.” A cold tingling sensation began making its way down his right side, and he fought the urge to shiver.

“There,” Dawn said. “Now for that concussion. Hold still, please. I can’t fix your concussion, but I can alleviate the swelling.” The cold sensation rolled through his head this time, making his ears tingle, but then the pounding he’d felt since the hit began to fade. It didn’t go away entirely, but by the time Dawn’s magic had stopped, it did feel better than it had.

“There,” she said. “You’re at least not at risk of serious injury. The pills I had you take should help with that. Now the fractures.” She made him hold his front left leg out, her magic rolling over it and making his bones itch. Then she repeated the process on his side, his ribs itching like he needed to peel his flesh back and scratch at them.

“There,” Dawn said, stepping back. Her horn glowed, her orange magic sweeping over him once more. “I can’t help with the bruising, unfortunately, so you’re going to be very tender. The bones aren’t quite knit, either, so don’t abuse them or you’ll have a full break. Your concussion is still there, simply eased. I wouldn’t recommend rapid spins or taking any hits to the head. You can go ahead and put your armor back on, too.”

“Naelewa. Asante,” he said, rubbing at his head with one hoof. The throbbing ache had subsided, and he felt better already, like his mind had been pulled out a tar pit. “Can I still fight?” he asked as he began replacing his armor. Some of the pieces bore cracks of a notable size.

“I was about to ask that question myself,” Captain Song said, stepping over. “Local medical help has shown up with some of your supplies, Dawn. They’re seeing to the wounded. But can he fight?”

“Normally, I’d say no,” Dawn replied. “His injuries, while treatable, could be life-threatening if exasperated. Preferably, it would be best if he were placed in his bunk aboard The Hummingbird for at least a day to recover. Longer, if necessary.”

“That said …” she continued. “There are only three of us, and The Hummingbird is not here. Sabra’s potent combat skills are second-to-none. I would recommend letting him get a full night’s sleep tonight if at all possible, six hours if nothing else, and that he avoid getting hit in the head if at all possible.”

“Sabra?” Steel looked at him.

“Sir, I can still serve. Though the sleep would be welcome.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Steel said, nodding. “Right now, though, we need to confer.” He pointed at a nearby office, likely once belonging to the station’s commander. “In private.”

“The wounded—” Dawn began, but Steel cut her off.

“Their own people are looking at them,” he said. “You can look into them before we leave, but right now, you both need to be caught up with what our ‘friend’ told me.”

“Very well.” Dawn gathered their equipment with a sweep of her horn and walked into the office. Sabra followed her, Steel entering behind them and shutting the door.

It wasn’t much, as offices went. At one point it had probably been nice, if themed around a despotic tyrant, but it was clear that the horde of crystal ponies had targeted it first. The desk and chairs had been smashed to pieces, and Sabra was pretty sure that the bright sheen along some of the chunks of wood was wet blood.

We must be careful, he thought, turning so that he could see both Dawn and the captain. They have every right to be angry, from what I have seen, but if we let that fuel them … Things could grow dim indeed.

“First of all, good work both of you,” Steel said. “This was an unexpected move, but it would have been far worse had we not been able to make it here. Especially as you two took down this station’s reinforcements.”

“Which brings me to our next move. Thanks to our ‘friend,’ we’ve got some information on what we’re up against. Not a lot, but a little.”

“Wouldn’t they lie?”

“Oh they did,” Steel said, his voice grim. “But I’ve had experience with bad liars before. And I didn’t let them know I was lying. They don’t know that it isn’t working, sometimes it’s easier to read between the lines.”

“And?”

“We’ve taken out roughly half of their remaining mobile forces,” Steel said. “Not counting the Order in the watchtower and the central tower. However, while the ponies holding the watchtowers are, largely, a low threat to us save in numbers, the ponies in the tower are the King’s elite officers.”

“So they’re skilled,” Sabra said.

“Very,” Steel replied. “And powerful. Worse, our friend suggested that they have a powerful weapon at their disposal, something that they can use to attack the city as a whole.”

“The tower,” Dawn said, eyes widening. “It’s a focusing agent. Perhaps.”

“What?”

“It could be why the city is laid out the way it is,” Dawn said. “The crystal ponies are collective magic users. The tower is at the center, and the entire thing is laid out like one of Sky Bolt’s mods, but on a grand scale.”

Steel frowned. “So the tower could be a weapon?”

“Yes … It could. That must be how they power that massive illusion. If the entire city is made of crystal, then ponies in it would provide the power, and the tower would act as a focus …”

“That could be very bad,” Sabra said, a vision of the beam that had hit his side sweeping across the city.

“Maybe,” Steel said. “Maybe not. It’s also a weak point. In addition, if it is a ‘circuit’ like Sky Bolt’s, then breaking any part of it could damage the whole thing. So they can’t simply blow up a street unless they’re sure they’ll be rid of us.”

“It won’t stop them from sending other spells at us,” Dawn said.

“No.” Steel shook his head. “But it will limit things. But better yet, if they’re relying on that point as a literal seat of power, we know they’ll try to protect it above all else.”

“So then,” Sabra said. “It’s a target?”

“Absolutely.” Steel stamped a hoof against the ground. “And that means we can exploit it and use it against them. So listen up. Here’s what we’re going to do …”

Author's Notes:

This chapter was hard to write.

Of all the characters in The Dusk Guard Saga, Sabra is easily the toughest one for me to write. Or was, at least, when I started working on this story. And then this whole "brutality of war" bit came in.

I won't undersell it: This chapter, and many of the ones after this, were just plain difficult to find the balance in. At this point, that's all I'll say. But Sabra's journey here is, well ... yeah I won't say anymore. If Rise was about the team coming together, Hunter/Hunted is about their becoming true soldiers and heroes.

I am pretty proud of how this chapter turned out, though.

As always, new chapters on Tuesdays and Fridays, as well as every hundred upvotes! If you're enjoying the story so far, don't forget to check out my website or my published works!

Chapter 19

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“Move!” Hunter’s shout wasn’t quite enough to drown out the lunging yeti’s howl, but it was enough to call Nova to action. A blue bolt of magic energy shot from the colt’s horn, slamming into the diving yeti’s shoulder and enshrouding the shaggy fur in a thin haze of ice. Hunter dove back, snapping his wings forward and down, the yeti’s outstretched claws barely missing the tips of his wings. The large beast slammed into the snow, its heavy bulk cracking through the thin crust and sending a swirl of powder flying up into the wind.

Nova’s second shot took it right between its glowing eyes, knocking its head back with a howl of pain.

And rage. Despite the hit, the yeti was already trying to get up. Worse, muffled howls of anger were rising all around them, the pack roused to action by the call of their fellow. “Run!” Hunter shouted, whirling as the yeti began to pick itself back up. “Fall back west!”

Nova nodded, firing a final spell even as he turned. The attack knocked the yeti’s paws out from under it, and it let out a long, screeching howl as it fell into the snow again.

Then they were running as hard as they could, both of them barreling through the yeti camp without any regard for stealth or subtlety. All around them the domes of snow were breaking apart, thick clouds of snow-dust sweeping into the windy air as yeti after yeti broke out of their confinement to protect their camp.

“I’ll take to the air!” Hunter shouted, batting his wings down and rising into the sky. “And cover! Just get—” He stopped talking as a nearby yeti lunged from its hole, forcing him to spin to the side. Beneath him, Nova was firing more spells, tripping every yeti he could target as he ran through the snow. More howls echoed up around them.

We’re not going to make it without a fight. Too many of the yeti were too close, Nova’s speed with the snowshoes too limited to get away.

He unlatched the snowshoes from his hooves, letting them fall away, and dove for the closest yeti. The beast’s attention was fixed on Nova, the yeti going into the long-armed lope its kind did when going for speed, and it didn’t notice Hunter’s approach at all until he brought his hooves down on the back of its head, slamming it down into the ground. It hit the snow with a faint fwomp and stayed still long enough for him to push himself up off of it.

More cries split the air, yeti howls in different pitches and tones. Infants, Hunter realized as he threw himself out of the way of a leaping swipe. Nova knocked the attacker’s legs out from under it. Another took its place. Sombra’s terrifying their young and the adults.

He batted a paw aside, claws scraping across the side of his armor with a sharp squeal. Just keep moving. Nova had pulled ahead of most of the pack, though they were still chasing him close behind. He came down atop one that had gotten too close, battering the back of its head with his hind legs and springing forward. Just—

Something heavy struck him in the side, and he spun out of control with a shout, narrowly missing a thick tree branch as he fought to stay in the air. He had a brief glimpse of white coming at him, and then a snowball hit his visor hard enough to snap his head back.

Great. They’ve seen this trick before. He dropped low, shaking the ice and snow from his view and going back close to the ground as more missiles began to fly. They were almost at the edge of what should be the yeti’s territory, though, and he could see more of the beasts hanging back until—

“In front!” Nova shouted. Hunter spun. More than a dozen yeti had slipped out of the trees ahead of them, cutting off their retreat.

How!? There was no time. The line of Yeti was closing in, and the sight of more of their brethren—or maybe enemies, he wasn’t really sure—brought a fresh cascade of howls from behind him. Nova skidded to a halt, horn glowing a bright, vivid blue. How did …? Wait a minute.

He focused even as another snowball whipped past overhead, and then his mod activated, another bright wave of magic racing out of him. Shouts of surprise rolled out of the yetis behind him … but none from those in front.

Stranger still, there was a glow about the dozen ahead of them that didn’t match the glow of those behind. They were shadowed, darker, and …

And they don’t have any footprints! he thought, eyes narrowing on the snow beyond them. “Nova! Illusions!”

Nova hesitated only a moment before charging forward with a shout, his horn glowing once more and sweeping a beam of some kind through the imposing yeti. They broke apart, bodies dissipating into black smoke, and Hunter could hear cries of fear and alarm coming from behind them.

Works in our favor then, he thought as he glanced back. Terrified that a dozen yeti had just been “slain” but seeing that their attackers had retreated, the yeti were falling back, though a few were still throwing balls of ice and snow in his direction. And at the bulk of The Hummingbird up in the sky, though it was far too distant for them to even get close.

“Edge of the trees,” Hunter said as Nova began to slow, and the unicorn reversed his pace. “We don’t know how far his magic can reach.” Nova nodded and began galloping forward again, snow churning around his legs. Hunter spun in the air, checking once more for any signs of pursuit as the mod began to wear off, but saw nothing, magic or otherwise, that indicated that they were being followed. The yeti were already out of sight, likely burrowing back into their shelters and sealing them again.

“Well,” he said as they reached the edge of the treeline, tucking his wings in and dropping to the snow. Where he promptly sank in up to his barrel. “That was a real blue, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Nova said, letting out a heaving breath and then whacking the muzzle of his helmet with his hoof to knock the ice away. Even after his run, he was visibly shivering. “Can I make a request, boss?”

“Lay it on me.”

“Can I just blast that crystal?”

“I don’t know,” Hunter said, shaking his head as he glanced back through the forest in the direction of the crystal. He shifted his legs, belly growing cold through the armor. Boy, once the sun goes down up here the temperature really drops! Wind probably doesn’t help either. “Can you say for certain that he wouldn’t absorb it somehow?” His words came out shaky, both from exertion and the rapidly concerning cold.

Nova shook his head, his own words back quick and harried. “No.”

“Then no, I don’t want you to do that. Powering up bad guys?” He shook his head. “Not what we want to do.”

“Second request then?”

“Shoot.”

“Let’s add some projectile weapons training, like bows and the like, to our training, huh?” Nova threw a glance back at the trees. “A good shot with a bow could take that crystal out from the other side of the camp.”

“Even with the wind? I’ve known some good archers, but …” Hunter fanned his wings, snow floating off them and then vanishing into the wind. “It’d be a hard shot from here.”

“Yeah well …” Nova went quiet for a moment before speaking again, an audible tremor shaking his voice. “Now what?”

“Not saying you’re wrong. In fact, it’s a spot on suggestion; I’ll talk to Steel about it after all this is over. But for right now …” He glanced up at The Hummingbird as one of the searchlights slid over them, momentarily making him squint before the visor adjusted. “I’m not willing to fight a whole pack of yeti just yet. Not without checking for other ideas first. And maybe warming up.”

“I’d like that last one,” Nova said, trotting in place. “Seriously, it’s a good thing Sabra’s not out here with us. I’m freezing!” He shook his head, then sat back in the snow and folded his front hooves under his forehooves. “Dude’s not going anywhere, right?”

“Sabra or Sombra?”

“Big bad.”

“Not that I know of.”

“So let’s set up camp or get in The Hummingbird. I’m freezing. We can keep an eye on him from the air.”

“Sounds like as good a plan as any until we can drive those yeti away or Sombra starts running again.” Hunter spread his wings, fighting a shiver and losing as it rolled down his back. “Stay here; I’ll have Bolt swing by while I keep watch.”

Nova nodded, his shivering all the more pronounced. We’re definitely going to need to bundle up if we’re out here any longer, Hunter thought as he lifted into the sky. Winter coats, stuff that’ll fit over our armor. That or get the tents out of our saddlebags. The Hummingbird turned toward him, Bolt visible in the cockpit, and he signaled with his hooves, motioning for her to pick up Nova while he watched the crystal from the air. Bolt nodded, the propellers shifting as the airship turned against the storm.

Right … the storm. They weren’t as much under it any more as on the edge, but it was still massive, stretching across the western horizon and completely blotting out the night sky. Not that he could see much of it to the east, either, but even so …

Another distant rumble echoed faintly on the wind, following a faint flash from miles off. I wonder how Steel, Dawn, and Sabra are getting on in the city? He let his altitude drop slightly, only to pause when he spotted a new shape at the edge of the clearing—a yeti, hunched up against the side of a tree and shrouded in snow, but clearly on watch. Snow’s not going through it either, he thought as the creature turned to look in his direction. So it’s not an illusion. The yeti shifted, one paw going to a pile of snowballs that were now likely much closer to icy rocks than they were snow, and Hunter beat his wings, rising up higher into the sky.

At least I can still make out the crystal from up here, he thought, watching the surface of the growth pulse once more. Guess that’s an advantage to watching at night. Unless that thing keeps pulsing when he’s not in it, though I guess the other one broke apart and faded away, so …

Bleh. I hate all this guesswork. No idea what his capabilities are, what all of his powers could be … He wheeled back in the air, glancing at the distant Hummingbird. It was trying to hold steady over what was likely Nova’s position, its belly just a dozen or so feet above the tops of the trees. For all we know, this whole thing’s an elaborate—No. He shook his head. If it was a trap, then we already survived it. And if it were a distraction, then … He paused. Unless he snuck out while we were running the other direction. But the crystal’s still there, so …

He let out a sigh. Only one way to really know. He dropped low, fighting the wind as he sank into the treetops some distance from the clearing. If I can just find a good possie to take a look without getting clocked by a ball of ice … There. He could see the clearing through the trees, not too far away. I just need to get close enough. Flying so low was difficult, especially with the heavy winds. The last thing I want to do is brush a tree and come crashing down, or worse … No, that’d pretty much be the worst thing, wouldn’t it?

The trees were thicker near the edge of the clearing, and he stopped. He couldn’t quite make out the domes from where he was hovering, but there had to be a few below him, housing likely still irritated yeti. Probably as close as I can get without standing on branches, he thought. So … He reached deep inside and activated his mod.

A howl swept through the camp as the sphere of light radiated out from his position, but he held his position. Come on … there! He could see the lines of magic around the camp now, thin, black strands of spellwork attached to what seemed to be almost every yeti. He could see a dimming in the air around the crystal as well, a dull patch in the sky like a grey cloud on a summer’s day. And at the very center of it, a patch that would have been almost bright by comparison if not for the solid, tar-like void of black at its core.

Sombra, Hunter thought as the view around the crystal began to fade. Still the—! He jerked back, beating his wings down as a piece of the thick blackness shot toward him like a lance. A branch scraped against his wings, the needles pulling at the feathers, but he didn’t stop, breaking free of the forest and ascending up into the sky. The black tendril stopped some feet beneath the trees, twisting like a thin cloud of smoke.

I … see … you …

Hunter’s wings nearly stopped beating as the voice echoed around his skull, the tendril pulsing with each utterance before slipping back down toward the ground, retreating back to the crystal. For a moment he hung there in the air, not even caring that he was slowly being pushed away by the wind.

“Well,” he said at last, his voice stolen away almost instantly by the wind. “There’s no mistaking that.” Either that’s Sombra, or we found some other sealed-away big-bad that just happened to get out. A shiver ran down his back and hindquarters, half from the cold, half from the thought. I hope not, though. What would the odds of that be? Though maybe they’d fight.

A shift in the rumble of The Hummingbird’s propellers told him that the airship was on its way back, and he took a quick glance at the retreating tendril before eyeing himself, checking to make sure that there wasn’t any lingering mark of the words he’d “heard.”

Some sort of telepath spell? A broadcast? Maybe Nova would know. He began to angle his drift to one side, away from the oncoming airship so that he could come at it from below and avoid the propellers. At least he’s not going anywhere.

A moment later he darted through the open door of The Hummingbird, Nova closing the hatch behind him and passing him a towel as his visor fogged slightly.

“Oh …” he said, sinking back on his haunches slightly as the chill of the outside faded away, warmth seeping through his armor and into his coat. “Sun above, that feels like paradise.”

“I know, right?” Nova was running a towel through his mane. “Visor fogging?”

“Yeah.”

“What was that light?”

“Decided to use my mod to see if Sombra was still there.”

“And?”

“He’s there.” Another shiver ran down his back. “And feisty too. Actually spoke to me.”

“What?”

“In my head. With magic.” He cocked his head to the side, ice sloughing out of the grill at the front of his muzzle. It splattered against an already wet deck.

Nova was looking at him with wide eyes, the towel motionless. “In your head? With magic?” His gaze narrowed. “Are you all right?”

“I don’t feel any different, though it did give me a good scare. Almost stopped flying out of shock. Still I don’t feel any different, and I don’t … What?”

“Hold still,” Nova said, horn glowing as he stepped up to him. There was a faint pop as the mod between his shoulder-blades disconnected, and it floated away over to Nova. “In fact, don’t go anywhere.”

“That’s … actually a pretty good idea,” Hunter said as Nova swapped the mod for his own and slid his helmet back on. “Hopefully it’s just a beat up, but … Better safe than sorry.”

“Yeah, my thoughts exactly,” Nova said, stepping back and standing for a moment, waiting for the mod to charge. “And … Huh. How do yo—?”

A burst of light rolled out of Nova’s horn in all directions, sweeping over Hunter like a cresting wave. Then it was gone, diffused through the walls of the airship, and he gave the unicorn an expectant look.

“Well … I’ve not really used this before, but I don’t see any obvious signs of evil. That and you aren’t cackling and rubbing your hooves together, so I guess it was just talking.”

Hunter nodded as Nova pulled the helmet off, but did let a faint shiver run down his spine. “Well, that’s good to know.”

“This is kind of cool,” Nova said, turning and looking toward the bow. “I can see Bolt. Neat.” A moment later he pulled his helmet back off. “Okay, so you’re you. What’d it say?”

“‘I see you,’” he repeated, another shiver running down his spine.

“Creepy.”

“Spot on.”

“So what now, then?” Nova asked as Hunter began toweling the ice off of his armor once more. Most of it was a half melted mess, sliding off the crystal plates and onto the floor.

“Well … I’m not really sure,” he said. “Sombra’s not going anywhere so I figured that we might as well get some rest. We could all use it. Maybe brainstorm and see if we could think up any way of getting him out of that crystal.”

“I had an idea.”

He paused. “Really?”

“Yeah. How long a rest?”

“A couple of hours, if we can drive him out. If not … maybe longer. Shifts or something. Unless Bolt gets the signal. What’s your idea?”

“Air drop.”

“Air drop?”

Nova nodded, holding up his towel. “How do yeti feel about fire?”

“They’re not fans of it.” Hunter rolled the towel down his back before glancing at it. Barely a light patch remained, almost the whole of its length soaked with wet. “See it as a threat to their trees. Why? Thinking of driving them off with it?”

“Better,” Nova said, rolling his own towel around his hoof and wrapping it up. “What do you think would happen if that crystal happened to be on fire?”

Hunter let out a sigh. “Just get to the point, if you could, Nova. I’m tired.”

“Right,” Nova said, nodding quickly. “We take a couple of these towels, soak them in cooking oil, then wrap that all around some boards leftover from Dawn’s crates.”

“Giant torches.”

“Yeah.” Nova flipped the towel around his hoof once more. “Make one or two of those, light ‘em up, and drop ‘em right down on top of that crystal.”

“Could work.” He ran his towel down the legs of his armor, wiping away what little moisture he could. Wish I could change out of this thing, but we don’t have spares. “We’d have to get close, though. Wind’s all kinds of wonky. We’d risk setting all the trees on fire.”

“Wouldn’t that be worth it? It’s not that large a section of forest.”

“I’d still rather avoid it,” he replied. “There are a lot of animals down there aside from the yeti. And the yeti aren’t evil, just territorial and disagreeable. Still …” He brought the towel back around and hung it on one of the nearby pegs. “If we could drop it right on the crystal, and I mean spot on, it might work. The yeti would attack it pretty fast. Or,” he said, frowning slightly. “Maybe just kick a bunch of snow and ice over it.”

Nova frowned. “Okay, that wouldn’t be helpful. That’d just cover him more.”

“Still, it’s not a bad idea,” Hunter said, turning and starting down the hall. “At least at its core. Dropping something on the crystal could work.”

“We could see if Bolt has any explosives,” Nova said, following him around the T and up toward the front of the vessel. “She might.”

“That’s a good idea,” Hunter said, stepping into the common room. The lights had already been dimmed, casting the room into faint shadow. His stomach let out a growl of hunger as he caught sight of the galley. “Maybe rig something like some of those heavy airships the minotaurs use.”

“What heavy airships?” The call came from the cockpit, and Bolt stuck her head around the corner, eyeing them both. She was smiling, but Hunter could see the fatigue hidden behind her gaze. Running the airship around all day was catching up with her. “I was starting to wonder if you guys had made it aboard.”

“Minotaur heavy bombing airships,” he replied. “The high-altitude ones?” Bolt’s eyes widened in recognition. “Nova suggested dropping something heavy with a little boom to it on Sombra’s crystal down there. After we get a bit of a rest,” he added quickly. “We’re both starving, and we’re all stuffed. Point being: do you have anything that blows up?”

“Like a bomb?” Bolt chewed at her lower lip, eyes staring off into space. “Not exactly. I wasn’t planning on blowing anything up.”

“So no explosives?” Nova dropped to the deck, his armor making a cascading series of thumps. “Not even dynamite?”

“When would I have dynamite normally?” Bolt asked, coming out of her distant look to fix a perplexed look on Nova. “Besides, I don’t need dynamite to make a boom. Just the right tools. But can’t you just … You know?” She mimed something springing out of her head with one hoof. “Blast it?”

“The crystal is sucking up magic,” Hunter answered. “It might work, or we just might power him up. I used my mod down there, and that caught Sombra’s attention. Nova was thinking something less magic but no less dangerous might be able to drive him out.”

“Well, I’ve got some cut-cord,” Bolt said, glancing back at the cockpit, probably to make sure that they were still holding position. “And there is a lot of stuff around here that can go ‘boom’ if you don’t know what you’re doing. Or I guess, if you know what you’re doing and want it to explode. Crud, I could probably make a bomb out of …” Her words trailed off as she stared at the galley, and Hunter followed her eyes.

“Okay,” he said slowly. “Can we make that option two?”

“What?” Nova asked, lifting his head up from the floor. “What’s she talking about? What are you talking about?”

“It’d be easy,” Bolt said. “Really easy. Most of the components are already there.”

“And I’ll end up feeling crook if we have to fall back on all those ration bars Dawn brought along.”

“Ration bars?” Nova pushed himself up, his eyes jumping between them and then following Bolt’s gaze. “What are you—? Oh.”

“Yeah,” Hunter said, giving Bolt what he hoped was a good deadpan gaze. “Our stove. That thing we use to cook all the food.”

“Not the stove,” Bolt said quickly. “Not entirely. Just … the fuel. Specifically, the tank. It’s small, it’s under pressure, it’s combustible.”

“We’d lose our stove.”

“Yes, we would …” Bolt said, drawing the word out. “But we’d have a very nice explosive.”

“Hold up,” Nova said, holding up a hoof. “So our stove is powered by a bomb?”

“Safety valves,” Bolt said. “It won’t just explode. You could set it on fire right now and we’d probably all be fine. It’d set the galley on fire, but—”

“We’d lose our stove,” Hunter repeated again, stomach twisting. The room rattled around them, shaking as the wind shifted once more. See, he thought. The ship agrees with me. “Unless we have a backup?”

“Stove’s kind of non-essential,” Bolt said. “So no.”

“Huh,” Nova said, staring at the galley. “I didn’t think about that, but now that you mention it—”

“Right,” Hunter said, raising his voice. “Hold up! Everyone just stop your gob for a minute. Enough with the aggroing, and enough with beating up the idea. And yes, that goes for me too. I know, I’m tired. Bolt?”

He had her attention again, her eyes fixed on him rather than the stove. “Yeah?”

“Gas bomb is a good start. Keep thinking on those lines. I don’t want to lose the stove if we can help it—” The taste of Dawn’s emergency rations flashed through his mind. “—but if I’m being true dinkum, we’ve got plenty of food that we can eat cold. Or Nova can heat it. So we’ll do it if we have to. But see if you can’t come up with other, more disposable things to make a bomb out of before you get too far into making one out of our stove, even in your head. Fair?” He split his gaze between both of them.

“Sounds fair to me,” Nova said, glancing at Bolt. “Sky Bolt?”

“Yeah!” Her reply was quick, snappy. Almost a little too quick. “Yeah, I can do that.” The follow-up had a bit more balance to it.

“Good.” He dropped to his haunches, wings sagging. “Because honestly, I’m still not sure that’s what we’re going to do. It was just an idea Nova had. Dropping stuff on that crystal. Hopefully to break it. But it was an idea. Not the plan. At least, not yet.”

“So …” Bolt said. “The what is the plan?”

He shook his head. “Don’t know yet. Nova and I are both beat. We need rest, and food. Outside of that … We should probably fill you in on what happened down there.”

“Magic absorption, illusion yetis, and real yetis,” Nova said. “You’re filled in. Sombra’s holed up in that crystal in the center, and if anything gets close, the yetis go manic. Fighting all of them would be …” He shrugged.

“Possible,” Hunter cut in. “But not productive. Riling them up is one thing. Having them all directed at us? That’s another. So …” He shrugged, his wings drooping. “We’re both stuffed. You look tired too. We get a few hours rest, recharge, and then do something to drive him out.”

“And east,” Nova added.

“So … bomb.” Bolt nodded, her eyes looking a little distant. “Or something hard. Heavy. Damaging. Drop it down, break the crystal.”

“That was one idea, yeah,” Hunter said, holding back a yawn. “Though we don’t exactly have a bay for it.”

“Plus the wind,” Bolt added, tapping her chin with her hoof, ears flat. Her eyes darted back to the cockpit as the airship rumbled again, deck tilting underhoof before leveling out. “We’d have to have a couple of shots.”

“Again, one idea,” Hunter said. This time the yawn did escape, and he shook his head before speaking again. “Basically, we need some way to get into that clearing and smash the crystal or damage it, drive him out, without setting off any of the spells around it or attracting the yeti’s attention.”

“Huh.” Bolt was sitting back now, a look on her face he’d seen a few times before. “So that’s it? Just damage the crystal?”

“Yeah, why? You have an idea?”

“Give me a second.” Bolt stepped back into the cockpit. Hunter looked down at Nova.

“What do you think? Any other ideas?”

“We could just fill one of Dawn’s empty crates with water, let it freeze into ice, and then drop that. No boom, but it’d be quite the impact.”

“That could work. It’d take time to freeze though.”

“I could speed it along.” Nova let out a yawn of his own, and then his horn glowed blue. “Ice spell, remember?” Over in the galley, the door to the icebox opened, a matching glow wrapped around its handle, and an apple floated out.”

“Ooh, grab me one, would you?” A moment later a second floated out and over toward his waiting hoof. “Thanks.”

“No problem.”

Hunter bit down, the apple letting out a sharp crunch as he took a bite, cold juice spilling across his tongue. He smiled despite his fatigue, the familiar flavor a welcome one. “Sweet Apple Acres,” he said, eyeing the apple while he chewed. “Hard to find a better apple.”

“They grew good apples down where I turned myself in,” Nova said, a hearty crunch echoing across the room as he took a bite of his own.

“Same family,” Hunter replied. “I think they even donated a few trees, so almost the same orchard.” There was another hearty crunch as he took another bite. His stomach let out a content gurgle.

“Got it.” Sky Bolt poked her head through the door again.

“Got what?” Nova asked.

“An idea,” she said. “A good one. No bomb.”

“No bomb?”

She shook her head. “Nope. Just some rope, some leverage, and some magic.”

“We’re trying to avoid magic,” Hunter said. “Sombra—”

“Not on the crystal,” Bolt said, shaking her head. “On the tree. Though we could use cut-cord if it came to that.”

“Tree?” Hunter asked, as at the same time Nova said “Cut-cord?”

“Yeah!” Bolt replied with a grin. “Best part is, if we do it right, it should come down right where we want it, but even if we missed, the impact would be more than enough to—”

“Sky Bolt …” Hunter held up a hoof. “My apologies here, but I’m not on the same page. I’m pretty sure Nova isn’t either.”

“Right, sorry,” Bolt said, giving them both an embarrassed grin. “Look, you want to damage the crystal and drive Sombra out of it, right?”

“Before he recovers too much, yeah.”

“Right, but it’s guarded. So we use what isn’t guarded.”

“Okay. Where does the tree come into it?” Nova asked.

Sky Bolt grinned. “Easy, that’s the whole of it. We don’t charge it or drop something from the air. We let nature do it. We go down, set up a guide rope, make some cuts and boom. Down it goes. One damaged crystal. Logging.”

“Wait a minute, you mean—?”

“Yup.” Sky Bolt’s grin widened. “We drop a tree on him.”

Hunter sat still for a moment, running it over in his mind. It makes sense, he thought. It’s in a clearing, we have the tools … sort of. And it’d be heavy as anything. Frozen wood is tough stuff. “I like it,” he said slowly. “It’s genius.” He looked over at Nova. “What do you think, Nova? Want to try your hoof at speed-lumberjacking?”

Nova nodded. “Bet that’ll make the yeti angry too. And if we’re not there …”

“They’ll do our job for us and drive him out,” Hunter finished before looking back at Bolt. “All right. Let’s do it. Say … food, four hours of rest, then we put it into action?”

“Uh … Actually, I’d rather wait until we have more light,” Bolt said, glancing back at the cockpit. “Cutting a tree down isn’t exactly safe, and we’ll need to rig the rope just right.”

“Plus, someone has to pilot The Hummingbird.”

“Yeah, that. So one of us has to stay here. Trying to set this all up in the dark? Dangerous.”

“All right,” he said, nodding. “That’s a good point. I’ve taken some trees down before, but not like this, and I wouldn’t call myself an expert in it. This definitely isn’t something we’d want to do a bodgy job of. Dawn? The time, not the sergeant.”

“Oh,” Nova said, shaking his head. “That makes more sense. Yeah. Dawn sounds good. Right when it’s starting to get light. That’s what … eight hours away?”

“Around that,” Sky said. “We beat it by an hour, that’s seven hours of rest, minus watches.”

“Good enough for me,” Hunter said, pulling up straight. Seven hours of rest sounded amazing. “Let’s do it. Food, rest, watch … then tree.”

The team voiced their affirmatives, Bolt heading back into the cockpit and Nova moving for the galley. Hunter took another bite out of his apple. It felt good to have a plan, even if it was a strange one.

I just hope it works, he thought, chewing. I just hope it works.

Chapter 20

View Online

He was on his own again. That had been the most dangerous part of their new assignments. Dawn had protested it, initially, but for all of his agreement with her logic, he’d seen the captain’s side of it as well. As had Dawn, though she’d made her disapproval known.

But we’re Dusk Guard, Sabra thought, the lines mirroring Dawn’s own words. We are at the forefront.

He crept along the side of the street, hooves almost silent against the crystal stones. Overhead, the storm still raged outside the city shield, distant flashes of lightning lighting the dark night sky and providing brief glimpses of the city skyline. Occasionally one would be loud enough that the faint rumble was audible even through the shield, but for the most part the flashes passed in relative silence.

Silence. The city was full of it at the moment. With the setting of the sun, everything seemed to be holding its breath, waiting for the next outbreak of violence to occur. Sabra paused as he reached another intersection, noting the dark interiors of the nearby homes and storefronts. Every so often there would be a faint glimmer of light from one of them, a candle or lantern providing subdued illumination to its owners, but more often than not even those were kept dim, blankets over windows or even just lights so dull he half expected that the candle itself couldn’t have been much larger than one used on a birthday cake.

He took a slow look down the connecting streets, checking for shadows that didn’t fit or strange clumps of hurried figures. He’d encountered two so far on his journey across the city, both of which had turned out to be crystal ponies moving from one point to another. For what purpose he hadn’t been able to say, and he’d avoided both groups. Collaborators, after all, were a real thing, and the next part of their operation was to be silent.

Satisfied that nothing was moving for the moment that he needed to be worried about, he moved quickly across the intersection. Ahead of him, still a good kilometer or more away, one of the few sources of open light left in the city pulsed like a beacon, marking one of the Order watchtowers that was still standing. It was a simple light, likely little more than a lantern or magic glow placed in an array of mirrors, but the message it sent was clear enough.

The Order stands here.

He paused on the other side of the intersection, sliding his body up against a low, crystal wall and sinking into the shadows. He waited, counting off the seconds, ears straining for the slightest bit of noise that could suggest that someone had spotted him. The seconds ticked by—literally, as he could hear the faint ticking of the pocketwatch Steel had given him to keep track of time, gears clicking away in his saddlebags.

But nothing else. Not even the faint muffled rumble that could denote someone using a silencing spell to conceal their hoofsteps. He was still alone.

Good. He rose from his hiding place and began moving forward once more, making sure to move out gradually, and not with a sudden shift. Nova had taught him that. Sudden movements and sounds were easier to catch than gradual, simple changes, at least as far as indirect observation went.

The city around him was changing as he walked down the street. Already there were less homes and more closed and shuttered business fronts. Some of them looked as though they hadn’t been open in years, windows boarded up or insides empty. Others looked even worse, the windows broken and insides bare save for debris. One he passed was even worse: The door had been smashed, along with all the windows, and painted red words adorned the front. A flash of lightning let him make them out, though the language was archaic compared to modern Equestrian.

“Traitors and Betrayers.” It was the third building he’d seen so far to bear the adornment. It likely wouldn’t be the last. Some were old, some were recent, but they all gaped like open wounds, a reminder of what sort of rule the city had been under.

We will stop them, he thought as he reached another intersection. Things were beginning to look more industrial now. He could see the long, low shape of warehouses ahead, mixed with what were probably factories, workshops, or whatever it was that the Crystal Empire needed to manufacture for its economy. Probably crystal, he thought, crossing the intersection. As everything here seems to rely on it in one way or another.

If so, I wonder if that will be beneficial or detrimental to Sky’s own creations? His eyes slid down to the angular pieces of crystal armor. Our armor costs a fortune. Would this place create a massive demand? Or would it in turn bring prices down? Economics, he knew, was not his strongest area of knowledge, but he knew the basics.

Later, he thought, bringing his gaze back to the distant light of the watchtower. As of now it is not important. Your duty is important. Focus on your duty.

Captain Song had explained it carefully to both him and Dawn back on the other side of the city. One thing the captain had been able to learn from their prisoner was that the Order didn’t have any idea how many of them there actually were, but based on the effectiveness of their attacks so far, seemed to be operating under the assumption that there had to be far more of them out there, and that the members they’d seen thus far were simply a cover.

Of course, Steel had been quick to point out that the Order’s own propaganda was likely playing a part in the assumption. After all, the Order held themselves very highly, and though they’d suffered losses taking out the remnants of the Guard who’d been part of the assault against the city before it had been lost to time, they’d still managed to bring them down. The prisoner in particular seemed to think that there were at least a hundred of them, aided by “treacherous rabble” in the city itself.

She had also claimed, much to the team’s dismay, that there had been no survivors of the invading Guard force. While there was a chance that her claims were as much a lie as anything else she could spout, Captain Song had admitted that there was a chance she was telling the truth. A Guard left alive, however, likely wouldn’t be held in one of the local watchtowers but back in the central palace.

Between the knowledge of how many forces they faced, as well as what their foe assumed they faced in turn, the captain had come up with a plan.

“We know what they’re expecting,” he’d pointed out. “Better yet, they have bad intel. So we use that against them. We prey on their fears and use it to maneuver them into a position that’s advantageous to us.”

The watchtower was closer now, and he slowed before ducking off the street, into a small space between a fence around what looked like an old carriage-yard and a warehouse. Time? The pocketwatch slid out of his saddlebags with ease, the faint ticking growing louder to his ears as he stared down at the dark face, waiting.

He didn’t have to wait long. A flash of light made it through the shield, lightning splitting the sky far above, and he caught a brief glimpse of the numbers. Ten-thirteen. Not quite time yet.

The plan was simple, if dangerous. Their foe was expecting a large, hidden force. Possibly overwhelming numbers. Numbers that the watchtowers couldn’t possibly hold back.

All they had to do was deliver on that illusion. Of the numbers, he’d clarified, not the illusion. Which was why they had split, each of them heading to a separate collection of watchtowers. Each of them had taken a pocketwatch from the station, carefully wound and set to a staggered time. Each of them had their instructions. Take the towers, silently and quietly, from the inside, leaving the pony at the peak for last. Then, at a predetermined time, create the illusion of a sudden, powerful strike—noise, yells, and other signs of general panic Steel had suggested. Then, within half-a-minute, disable the pony at the peak of the tower and snuff the light out.

Each of them had two targets. Once the first had been dealt with, they would move to the second and repeat the process on a tighter timetable. If the team acted in unison—or close to it, Steel had staggered the numbers slightly for each of their watches for a reason—the appearance from the central tower would be that a large force had simply swept in under the cover of darkness and taken a whole swath of the city at once.

At which point the best option available to the leadership elements in the tower would be to recall all of their scattered forces across the city to defend the tower. Local resistance could simply take the abandoned watchtowers.

And we can focus on getting rid of the rest of the Order in a single strike, Sabra thought, sliding back out of the gap and proceeding down the side of the street again, careful to stick to the shadows. Still problematic, but doable. And, as Steel had pointed out, far more convenient.

“The advantage of a siege is that you know where all your foes are,” he’d said, quoting another ancient commander. A griffon, Sabra thought, though he wasn’t fully sure. The sentiment had been said in various ways by a few other leaders over the centuries. Sometimes from both sides of such a strategy.

Still, the advantage in knowing that our foe has retreated to one central location will be enormous. The light ahead was getting brighter, the watchtower growing closer as his steady trot ate up the distance. But that is in the future. For now, he reminded himself, keep your thoughts on the present. Such as not being seen.

Staying unseen was vital. Not an hour earlier the massive, illusionary unicorn head had again appeared, reminding the inhabitants of the city that a curfew was in effect, and that all ponies seen out of their homes after dark would be considered “allies of our most hated foe.”

In other words, if one of us is spotted, the illusion of our attack could be broken. The watchtower would signal the central tower, and while it wouldn’t diminish their assault, it would make it much more difficult and possibly throw off their timing.

The timing was key. Captain Song had stressed it several times. Their attack had to look like a synchronized wave. If it broke, there was a higher chance of someone either seeing through the deception or believing that the “assault” wasn’t as capable as they wanted it to appear.

He slid into another gap, this time between two warehouses and wide enough for a small carriage to pass through. Again he checked the watch. Ten-twenty-seven. Closer still. He’d need to reach the watchtower soon, and then …

Sabra frowned. Then I must discover a way in and subdue its inhabitants both quickly and quietly. It is a shame Nova went with the lieutenant. His experience would be most welcome here.

But there was no sense in wishing for wells were there were none. It is what it is, he thought, moving back onto the side of the street. I will simply have to make do.

There was, thankfully, at least one major advantage held by the team. According to the crystal ponies, when the city had been cast into the void, it had been late in the evening—almost midnight. They had been held in that void for a number of hours, and then returned to the real world shortly before noon by their own clocks. Which meant that for many of them, not just the years had changed, but the time of day as well.

So by now, many of the Order will have been without proper rest for nearly a full day. Sabra came to a stop, eyeing the open street ahead and then the distant tower before choosing to change course, sliding down the side of what appeared to be … actually, he wasn’t quite sure. Stone-work maybe? There were a large number of crystalline pieces sitting around, as well as tools. And damage, he noted, spying a hole in a roof.

He passed it by, stopping at the next street down and following it closer to the watchtower. But still, they’ll be tired. Exhausted. They might even be sleeping in shifts.

Again, something that seemed better suited to Nova than his own skills, but … Wishing for wells again.

A shadow moved across the base of the watchtower light and he slid to one side, coming to a stop as soon as he was sure he was as far out of view as possible and waiting, ears straining.

Nothing. Wait!

A faint, long intake of breath, followed by a squeak.

A yawn. Their watch is tired. Good.

He waited a few seconds longer, until the shadow had moved again, heading for a different side of the tower, then began moving forward again. More quickly this time. As long as you stay quiet, you can move fast. Thankfully the hard, rubber-like substance covering the hooves of his suit did a good job muffling his movements. Soon the only thing between him and the wall of the Order Station was an open, empty street. He waited for a moment, eyeing the tower and listening carefully for any sounds of hushed breath, then moved across the street as quickly as he dared.

He hit the wall of the station a bit harder than he’d meant to, a faint thump echoing across the street, and he sucked in his breath, ears standing on end. Don’t move. Don’t even breathe. If you have to, just slowly let a breath out, nice and quietly, then inhale the same way.

Above him, he could hear hoofsteps, making their way around the tower slowly but surely, until they stopped just above him. Don’t … Move. Focus on those slow, quiet breaths. Another hoofstep from above, then a rattle, as if someone had kicked something.

A minute passed. Why didn’t I get into a more comfortable position? The guard was still right above him, so there was no chance of shifting without drawing attention, but … This is not comfortable. Please move. Go watch somewhere else. Go. Go, go, go—

Hoofsteps echoed from the watchtower once more, the guard moving on, back away to the other side, and Sabra let his position slip with a silent cry of relief. There are some positions one is simply not meant to stay in for long, he thought, rolling his shoulder and taking quick glances up and down the length of the wall.

It’s a warehouse. Or, at least, it had been. Before being turned into another Order Station. But warehouses have more than one entrance. He eyed the front of the station, facing the street, and then pulled his focus back toward the other end of the structure. Side doors, back entrances, offices. Something. Likely they would have walled it off, but with a little creativity …

He found it in the far corner of the structure, a single, simple doorway, an exit into the alley between the buildings. And as he had expected, it was walled off.

But how securely? He pressed his hooves against the crystal, probing for seams.

None. The doorway had been sealed. Likely magically.

But that can’t be every entrance, can it? He moved back toward the front, eyeing the base of the wall.

Nothing. No windows. No entrance to lower levels. Just crystalline wall.

What about above? He turned his gaze upward, eyeing the rooftop. Wouldn’t there be—wait!

There, interspaced along the side just under the overhang, were small, horizontal indents. Windows! Of course. For ventilation! And with a little extra kick …

The lip was thin but enough, and he pulled himself up slowly, wary of what he might find on the other side. With his back hooves bracing himself, and his muscles tight, he was able to hold himself at enough of an angle to try and look through the glass.

Nothing. Something had been placed in front of the window on the inside. But … It’s a start.

He dropped back down the ground, bending his legs to absorb as much of the impact as he could and moving back toward the rear of the structure, where he’d first found the door. It was still there, sealed, but above and around it …

What I need, he thought, jumping and bracing himself again. The glass was clear, if dusty, the space behind it unblocked. He pushed his head forward, shoving his muzzle against the glass and—

It didn’t budge. It was latched from the inside. Worse, he could see the hinges above him. It opens outward.

But … it would not stop Nova. Therefore, it will not stop me. I just need to know how.

Smashing the panes was out of the question. As quiet as the city was, it would be far too noticeable to create such a din. He dropped back down to ground level, eyes narrowing. There has to be a way … There is always a way. Perhaps if I removed the pins from the hinges, and then forced the latch …

No, then the window would fall inward, shattering inside. Unless … He peered back at his saddlebags. Unless …

It took him a minute to find what he was looking for, buried at the bottom of the bags. Tape. High-quality, sturdy silver tape that Sky swore by in her workshop. She’d insisted that it be a part of their standard kit. And now …

And now it looks like she was right.

Getting the tape onto one of the glass panes proved to be a more difficult challenge than he’d expected, but after one missed attempt and one near-fall arrested only by a single hoof catching against the sill, he was able to cover one of the panes completely in the sticky, tough substance and press it down as firmly as he could manage.

All right. He pulled his hoof back. Here goes.

A soft crack echoed out from under the overhang as he snapped his hoof into the covered pane. A crack … but nothing else.

It worked! Barabara! He poked the pane with one hoof, faint pops echoing back at him as the tape gave inward. Well, part of it worked. There was only one thing left to do. The first and longest bit of tape he had run right down the center, all the other pieces crossing over it, just as Nova had mentioned to do, with one end hanging free. He grabbed it with his hoof and began to peel the mass of tape back.

Amazing. He smiled as the mass of tape came free, carrying with it most of the glass that had been in the pane. It works. The few pieces still stuck in the pane would be sharp, but not a match for his armor. He peeled half of the window back, slowly and carefully, stopping to apply tape on the other side whenever it looked like a piece was threatening to fall free, and then simply reached in and undid the latch with a quiet click. The window swung upward with a faint creak, and with a quick look around inside, he slithered over the sill and dropped down inside.

Storage, he thought as the window swung shut with a faint thump behind him. It’s just … empty storage. Or perhaps simply a walled-off part of the warehouse the station hadn’t needed.

A flash of distant thunder gave him a brief moment of light—albeit dim—and he saw that he was correct. Dusty shelving and random boxes filled the small space, clearly tossed about without any effort. The labels were faded, unreadable even in the brief glimpse he’d been given, so there was no way of knowing what was in them.

Which was fine. The crates didn’t matter. What did was the door on the far end of the room. It was clearly unfinished—barely even a door. A slab of crystal that happened to have hinges seemed more accurate.

And a lock, he noted, eyeing the latch. It was … crude, but probably effective. At least, for the other side of the door.

Amazing, he thought, stepping up to it and eyeing the exposed innards. There’s cheap work, and then there is lazy, cheap work. The innards of the lock were open. From the other side, the inside, the lock likely appeared complete. But from the side that was clearly never intended to be looked at …

Simply amazing. He would have to tell Sky later, simply so she could marvel at the shameful craftwork. He paused.

Unless … the crystal ponies did it, and weren’t feeling too enthralled with their new rulers. The explanation also fit. Why bother doing a good job if you know they aren’t going to check? He examined the locking mechanism for a few moments, and then reached out and pulled a thin rod back. With a faint clunk, the lock retracted.

He waited a moment more, then two, his mind going back to what Nova had taught him about sneaking around and repeating it. Give it a moment. Don’t just open the door or hatch immediately. Somepony might have heard the sound, and come looking. Give them time to either make themselves known if they come to look for it, or to decide it was “just noise.” Then open carefully, in case of traps.

He took a slow breath, counting back from ten. How long had it been since he’d last checked his watch. Was he still on time? There was no way to check, but it didn’t stop a thread of worry from winding its way through his gut.

Still there was no sound from the other side of the door. He pressed one ear up against the wood.

Murmurs, indecipherable but nothing more. No low, resonant, metered impacts that would signify hoofsteps. And no sudden shifts of volume that indicated cries of alarm.

So far then, he thought, pulling his head away. So good. He took a step back and made a last-second check of his saddlebags. He had six horn-locks at the ready. All the team had been able to spare. If there were more than five ponies inside—and there likely would be—he’d just have to get creative.

Then again, that was what his Fimbo was for. Well, among other things, including the task he was now pulling it from his back for. He kept it compressed rather than letting it extend out, and reached for the door’s lock. He was forced to move a step closer to get the angle right, but then his gentle pull was rewarded with resistance, and the door began to swing open. He sucked in a breath.

Nothing. No shriek of alarm spells. No sudden surge of electricity coursing down the staff and through his limbs. Not even a flash of blinding light designed to both alert authority and stun a would-be trespasser.

I’m impressed by their lack of attention, he thought as the door opened wider. I would guess Nova would be as well. Reddish light spilled through the doorway, illuminating the storage area. In front of him, through the door, was another set of prison cells much like the one they’d found in the other watchtowers.

But not identical. There were more cells, for one, at least a dozen stretching down the length of the hall before him. The hall was wider as well, which he suspected had to do with both the building it had been built in … but also the large, shackle-laden table dominating the center of the room. Something that looked like rust flaked the chains. A shudder ran down his back.

Torture, he thought, eyes slipping to the metal grate beneath the table. For information, or just for intimidation. And out in the open where everyone in the cells would both see and hear it.

His gaze continued on, a hard pit taking up residence in his gut. He didn’t tremble, didn’t snort, but he could feel the cold knot of anger pushing him to move forward, to do something.

Especially now that he had a target. At the far end of the hall, a single desk jutted out from the wall, facing the cells. Behind it sat an Order unicorn, gaze fixed on his desk, and behind him, a door that likely led to the other half of the station.

Sabra’s eyes narrowed. A guard over their prisoners. One so bored that they hadn’t even noticed the opening of the door at the far end of the hall. At some point, however, he would.

Sabra slipped out of the door, moving across the crystal floor as quietly as he could, sticking to the far corner from the desk and keeping himself mostly behind the horrible-looking table. In the corners of his visor he could see the cells as he passed by them. A few were empty.

Most were not, and the hard knot in his stomach clenched. Some of the ponies were wasted by hunger. Others bore scars, or even open wounds.

One turned as he moved by and looked at him, eyes going wide as they saw what was outside of their cell. Carefully, slowly, not taking his eyes from the unicorn at the other end of the hall, Sabra raised one hoof to his muzzle, making the universal sign for silence. The crystal pony didn’t respond, but he could hardly blame her. Welts covered her back, sides, and forelegs, thick and purple against her coat.

They did this to her, he thought, continuing forward, gently setting one hoof in front of the other. He was only three dozen feet away now, past the torture assembly. He could see other eyes on him as well, but none belonging to the unicorn behind the desk. Sabra brought a front hoof back, reaching for his Fimbo. The distance shrank. Two dozen feet. A quarter less.

He was almost fifteen feet away when the guard suddenly looked up, eyes going wide as he saw Sabra’s armored figure. His mouth opened wide, preparing to yell and … the tip of Sabra’s Fimbo struck him right in the throat.

The staff fell to the ground with a clang, barely covering the strangled gurgle the unicorn made as they pitched back, both forehooves going to their throat. Sabra caught the unicorn before they could hit the ground, vaulting across the desk and putting his hooves under them just before impact. The unicorn looked up at him with wide, panicked eyes, horn sending out sparks of magic as he tried but failed to cast through the pain.

The eyes went wider still as Sabra pulled one hoof back and slammed it into the pony’s forehead. The panicked, gurgling gasps for breath slowed as he slumped back, stunned.

It wouldn’t last, but he didn’t need it to. One of the nearby cells was unoccupied, and he tossed the wheezing unicorn into it. They hit the ground with a heavy thump and rolled into the back of the cell. They were still trying to draw breath when he closed the cell on them. Maybe his blow to the throat had been too forceful, and he never would.

At the moment, he didn’t feel too ill at the thought.

He collected his Fimbo from the ground, placing it across his back once more, and with a final glance at the cells around him—many of which, he noted, had occupants watching him with curious eyes—moved toward the far door.

Move fast, he thought, sticking an ear to the door. They can’t get any sign of— His ear twitched. He recognized the sound emanating from the rest of the station, a deep, steady rumble that rose up and down in cadence and speed with each passing moment.

Snores. Several of them, all cascading over one another as they went. He waited a moment longer. Five … No! Six sleepers. There would likely still be guards posted, or at least a guard, but … My mission may be that much easier if I can take some of them while they rest.

The door was held shut by a simple latch, and he slid it up and out of place, allowing the door to open inward. He let it do so slowly, peering around the gap.

A sleeping area. The lights had been dimmed, the reddish light from the cells pouring through the crack, and he eased the door almost shut, heedful of how out of place it appeared.

Not that it seemed to matter to the six sleeping ponies resting atop cots across the room, or in one case, a couch. Not a sleeping area. A makeshift one. An open doorway at the other side of the room was illuminated, and through it he could see part of the rest of the station.

He swallowed. Steel’s instructions and training had been thorough. He knew what he had to do. Each of the sleeping ponies in the room before him was a potentially deadly foe. The fewer of them could react to his efforts, the better off he would be.

He swallowed again, his breath coming in shallow jerks for a few moments. You have practiced this, he told himself. Practiced it again and again.

But the thought of doing it to a living, breathing pony, even an enemy, still filled him with dread.

Then his mind slipped back to the battered, wounded bodies in the cells behind him, drained of magic and hope, and the dread faded. Not entirely, but enough that his breathing became more regular, the knot in his gut easing and burning with a faint fire, and he eased the door open again, slipping into the room as quietly as he could manage. He closed it carefully, going for a gradual shift in lighting instead of a quick one. One of the bodies on the cots tensed, mumbling something, and he froze, but then they rolled over, the sound of their breathing steadying.

Sabra slipped a hoof into his saddlebags, pulling out one of the horn-locks and stepping over to the closest pony. Like the others she was asleep, still in her barding. A thin red band was painted around the base of her horn, clashing with her green coat.

She was so tired she didn’t even noticed when he slipped the horn-lock into place, tightening it and cutting off her access to her magic. He waited for a moment, heart pounding, but her breathing stayed the same, steady pace, with no outer signs that she’d been disturbed.

One hoof hung at the edge of the cot, the joint perfectly balanced on the wooden dowel that made up the side. He slipped a zip-tie through a gap in the cloth and around the hoof, tightening it down with a faint cascade of quiet clicks.

Laughter echoed through the door at the far side of the room, and he jerked slightly, the zip-tie letting out a brief, more characteristic noise for its name. The laughter quieted quickly, faint voices striking up in its wake, though the tone didn’t sound as jovial as the laughter had suggested it might be.

The zip-tie began to meet resistance, and he slowed its progress, applying a little more tension before letting go and leaving the tail end sticking out into the air. The mare’s hoof was now firmly pinned to the side of the cot. It wouldn’t completely immobilize her … but it would make moving difficult if she woke.

And that was enough. He moved to the next unicorn, a stallion face down in a pillow. The horn-lock slipped down around his horn, but there wasn’t any way Sabra could see to quickly restrain him … At least until he noticed how the unicorn’s blankets hung over the side of the bed and all the way to the floor.

Knots, Sabra thought, scowling slightly. Despite all of Nova’s coaching, anything to do with rope or knots was still his weakest area of expertise. On the other hoof, however, he thought as he gently lowered himself to his belly, gently taking two hanging ends of the blanket and bringing them together. A knot you don’t have to untie—a tangle, as Sky and Nova both put it—is easier to make than one you do plan to untie. Over and over he wrapped the ends of the blanket,eyeing the stallion atop the cot to make sure he didn’t react the gradually tightening cloth. He looped the blanket ends through the struts of the cot as well, making sure it was well and truly tight before rising and moving on.

The next two cots he dealt with in similar manners, slipping horn-locks into place and then carefully incapacitating the inhabitants so that if they did awake, they’d spend the first few moments struggling just to move or react to what was going on. The voices from the front continued to mumble on in low tones, oblivious to his presence. So far, so good.

The sixth and final pony stirred and woke up as he was sliding the horn-lock into place, blurry eyes opening and staring up at him. “Wuz—”

Training took over. Sabra snapped his foreleg down into the pony’s throat, cutting off their shout and eliciting a faint gurgle as the unicorn’s body went rigid. Sparks began to roll off of the horn, fighting against the partially-attached horn-lock, and Sabra rolled his body forward, putting more weight on the unicorn and locking their head so his free hoof could finish tightening the horn-lock into place.

The unicorn let out a choked cry—not loud, but not quiet either. The murmur of voices from beyond the door slowed, a single phrase cutting across Sabra’s sphere of thought even as the unicorn he was restraining began to kick at the couch cushions.

“Did you hear that?”

There was no time. The horn-lock was in place. Still leaning into the unicorn, Sabra pulled his hoof back and drove it right into the side of the pony’s skull. It let out a dull thunk akin to two pieces of firewood being thrown together, and the struggling beneath him ceased.

“No, but I heard that,” another voice said. There was the sound of a chair being pushed back. “Hang on.”

Move? Or wait? Hoofsteps echoed from the doorway, a shadow sliding to block off the light. Move? Or wait? The hoofsteps drew nearer.

He dove over the back of the couch, rolling and landing on his hooves in the shadowed space between it and the wall. Wait, he thought as the hoofsteps drew closer, the light from the doorway fading as a body blocked its path. Right now, his target was alert and on the lookout. If they didn’t notice what had been done to the ponies in the room …

He waited, but there was no cry of alarm. The hoofsteps sounded again, the guard trotting a few steps further into the room. Then they turned and trotted back out, the light growing again as they left.

“Just one of them rolling over in their sleep,” the departing guard said. “Probably Nayus having a nightmare, the little ninny.”

“Serves him right for sucking up to get a sleep shift when there are Equestrians still around,” the first voice said.

“You are just unhappy about having to keep watch,” the second countered.

“Are you not? And do not dare to tell me you actually believe the rumors. It is a bunch of uppity shiners. Nothing more.”

Shiners? It took Sabra moment to place the term. Crystal ponies.

“Several of the towers have gone dark.”

“The king is away, and the shiners have been crying for a rebellion for some time now. It stands to reason that such wild rumours would spur them to action.” Sabra rose from behind the couch as the faint voices continued to echo. “Perhaps they finally saw some success. It will not last. King Sombra will not stand for it.”

Fortunate that it is not going to be his call, Sabra thought, sidling up to the doorway and looking through it. What greeted him was a collection of desks, much like the other stations he’d been in. A nearby door to his left led to a small bathroom, while further away and to the right, he could see two unicorns both sitting at a desk, heads pointed away from him and toward the front of the room as they talked. The open stairway behind them then likely ran to the watchtower at the roof.

“Either way, I wish they would answer us as to what happened to the sky,” the one said, turning and looking right in Sabra’s direction. “Why—?” The stallion’s eyes went wide, voice cutting out in shock as he saw Sabra’s helmet.

Sabra moved, darting through the doorway and hurling his Fimbo in one smooth motion. It scythed through the air, leaving a faint hum in its wake, before connecting with the unicorn’s skull just below the horn. The stallion went cross-eyed, slumping back.

His companion hadn’t even begun to turn his head when Sabra slammed into him from behind, driving him out of his seat and into the floor with a heavy thud that shook the room. Sabra rolled with the momentum, tucking his head under and scooping up his Fimbo as passed by it. He came up on his rear hooves, facing the two Order members.

Neither of them rose to meet him. The one he’d slammed into the floor seemed completely non-responsive to the world, while the one he’d hit with his Fimbo was at least awake, but completely dazed. He reached back into his saddlebags … and came up empty hooved.

Right. I used my horn-locks already. His eyes went back to the two lying on the floor in front of him. At least they should be stunned until I can get them into a—

A dull thud from the sleeping area made his ear twitch, and he bolted forward even before the faint strains of “What … What is going on?” began to echo around him. He rounded the door before the mare who had spoken had entirely finished, his hooves skidding on the crystal. The unicorn, who had just put a hoof to the lock around their horn, stared at him in shock.

“You have been arrested,” Sabra said, his voice low. “And restrained.”

“I … What?” Her shout of outrage was enough that the rest of the ponies in the room began to stir. “You dare—?” Her words cut off with an angry yelp as her rear leg, zip-tied to the cot, refused to move with her, and she fell to the floor. Around her the rest of the ponies were starting to wake up as well, letting out sounds of confusion as they each found themselves tied to their cot on in their bedding and their magic unresponsive.

Sharp, strong voice. Like with novices. Sabra snapped his Fimbo to its full length. “Members of the Order of the Red Horn, you are prisoners. Your magic has been restrained, and your station taken. You will proceed quietly to the cells, where you will be incarcerated—”

“Never!” One of the unicorns leapt at him. Or tried to. Partway through, their cot jerked after them, arresting their movement and sending them sprawling to the floor. As they began to rise, Sabra’s staff whipped down, and they hit the floor again, dazed from the blow.

He ran his gaze over the rest of the group. Several of them were staring at him with open mouths, fearful looks on their faces. Another was tugging at the zip-tie binding them to their cot, or were until they saw his visor fall on them. A third was clearly trying to cast spells from their horn with increasing panic.

“Who—?” one of them began, but he cut her off.

“I am Sabra of the Dusk Guard, acting on behalf of the Equestrian Government and its rulers.” The Fimbo snapped around his hoof, ends whistling through the air. The unicorn he’d struck was still lying on the ground, one hoof rubbing their head. “Surrender.”

“Or what?” It was the first mare he’d tied that had spoken, glaring at him from the back of the room. “There is only one of you and six of us. Even without our magic, if you believe that you can—”

The world spun around him as he flipped forward, whipping his staff around him and scoring glancing hits across the back legs and hindquarters of several of the still restrained Order members before bringing it to a stop just to the side of the mare’s jaw.

“You will lose.” He let no bluster taint his words, just cold, hard certainty. From behind him he heard a gasp, and he glanced back to see that the looks of shock on some of the faces had morphed from anger to fear. “Already today I have struck down a number of your forces. Soldiers, not just station guards. You are already beaten. Move for the cells.”

“And if I say no to a filthy dirt-digger?” The question came from the mare in front of him.

Do not back down. “Then I will knock you unconscious and throw you in myself.”

“Fine.” The mare hissed the word through clenched teeth. “And my cot?”

“You will drag it with you.” For a moment the mare seemed to be considering his words, but at long last she turned, dragging her cot by one hoof toward the cell doors.

“You will regret this, mud-pony,” she said as she went. Sabra took a step back as the others began to file past him, two dragging their own cots across the floor. Which left only the unconscious pony lying on the couch. He tossed them over his back and followed the five other order members back to the cells.

Thankfully, the sight of his Fimbo, his armor, and the state of the unconscious unicorn already lying in a cell kept them in-line. He split the group, leaving three in one cell while he removed the horn-locks of the others.

One tried to put up a fight as soon as their horn-lock was removed. The sight of their entire body bouncing off of the back wall of the cell, however, took the fight out of the rest of them, and they submitted with only seething glares and muttered descriptions of what would happen to Sabra once they got out.

They were still seething when he returned a minute later with the two front guards he’d incapacitated, and he added them to the cell with fewer members. Let them aid their own if they care, he thought, though he felt cruel for thinking it.

A few of the prisoners were still watching him, their expressions varied. He made a quick signal for silence and staying put, hoping the gesture was still recognizable across the centuries.

With that, he checked the other rooms, finding only another office much like the ones he’d seen before, its inhabitant absent, and then pulled the pocketwatch from his saddlebags.

It’s almost time. Captain Song would be taking down his watch any minute. And from there, he’d begin running to the next watchtower in line, to take it down with as abrupt a show of force as he could.

And during that time, Sabra would take his own tower, and begin the same.

He popped open his saddlebags, pulling out a ration bar and unwrapping it with a faint crinkle of waxed paper. He had to adjust his helmet slightly to eat it and be at the ready, but the station was silent, only the ticking of the pocketwatch to keep him company.

That actually went better than expected, he thought, chewing on the granola. But the next station will not be so easily taken. Not when all pretense of stealth will be gone.

He paused. Or will it? The Captain hadn’t specified how he took the watchtower down, only that it be done quickly. Nova would still do it silently. Why couldn’t I?

He swallowed, chewing almost mechanically. The front door is already out of the question, unless I can open it without being cooked by their spells. But if the next tower had another entrance as this one had.

Or … I could make one, he thought, glancing at the gauge in the corner of his visor. Come through the wall. It would make the watchtower less effective for whoever used it next, but … Whoever takes it could manage. And it would create an effective amount of chaos.

The pocketwatch ticked on. Not long now. He eyed the stairs at the side of the room, finished the ration bar, and slid his helmet back into position. Not long at all.

He let out a long, slow breath. I wonder what Sky is doing right now? Piloting The Hummingbird? Chasing a shade? He still wasn’t sure what a “shade” was, but then again, the rest of the team didn’t seem to really know either.

I wish she were here right now. Even just hearing her voice would be a relief, much less the touch of her hoof on his shoulder. Something to sooth the churning emotions in his chest he’d been ignoring ever since earlier that day.

Part of him wanted to meditate for a moment. Just to try and ease his mind. But there was no time. Nor was the station safe. Not yet, anyway.

Almost time. He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly and centering his mind, clearing his thoughts. The watch ticked onward, seconds sliding past. Captain Song would be running to the next watchtower now, while Sergeant Triage would be dealing with the inhabitants of her own.

The small hand of the clock shifted to the side, and he stuffed the watch back into his saddlebags, rising from his seat. It was time.

He snapped his Fimbo to one side, smashing it across the nearest desk. It skimmed over the surface, slamming into the nearby wall with a sharp crack that was almost deafening after the silence. He spun on, lashing out at chairs and other furniture. Wood snapped and splintered beneath his hooves, crashing into walls and bouncing off of desks. The din was a tumult of chaos.

And … finish. He tapped into his mod, strength bursting along his limbs, and bucked one of the desks. It crashed through the front doors of the station, ripping them from their hinges and catching fire as several spells went off.

That should be sufficient noise to alert the watch, he thought, galloping up the stairway. And now …

The watch was facing the central tower when he broke through the hatch, wood splintering around him. The unicorn let out a terrified yelp, the signal spell from their horn winking out, and then Sabra’s hoof caught her across the jaw. Her body went limp as it bounced off of the railing, though not unconscious.

“Surrender.” The mare nodded, and though her eyes smoldered with burning heat, she didn’t resist as he slid the horn-lock into place and bound her legs. Getting her down the stairs was another matter, but he wasn’t about to put the mare on his back and carry her. Not with how sharp the tip of her horn looked. Between its point and the rage simmering in her expression, the moment his attention went anywhere but her he was certain she’d attempt to shove it through a gap in his armor.

So down the steps she went, hobbling and mumbling curses. He didn’t even move to help her when she fell, rolling over twice before coming to a stop. She is the enemy, he reminded himself as she glared at him once more, hobbling down the steps. Still, it felt … wrong, to watch her stumble along. I could help her to the cells, he thought. Rather than making her—

His mind flashed to the crystal ponies locked in the cells, and his hesitation vanished, the impassive wall clamping down over him once more like a suffocating but comforting fortress. She played a part in that, he thought as they reached the ground floor. She did that to them.

The mare’s eyes widened as she took in the destruction, and she nearly stumbled again, catching herself as she turned to look at Sabra. “Where … Where is your army?”

He said nothing. He didn’t feel like speaking. Instead, he simply pointed his staff in the direction of the cells. The mare hung her head, eyes still wide, the spark of rage replaced by something else.

Fear, he thought, following her through and into the cell block. The two cells of Order watched them as they walked in, a few calling something, though their voices were low. Insults, though he didn’t know the terms. Sabra trotted up to the group with the lesser numbers and motioned for the mare to get ready.

On the other side of the crystal cell door, the trio of unicorns standing tensed.

Ah. He slid the key into place. Of course. All three of them were leaning forward now, their intent obvious.

Very well. The cell door opened with a click, and as he began to pull it to the side, all three charged, spells lashing out from their horns.

His immediate reaction, judging from their expressions, caught them off guard. He charged into their magic, trusting Sky’s armor to do its job against the weakened-spells. Two of the them, thin due to the draining aura of the cell, bounced from his armor, reflecting off into the walls. The third sputtered out before it even reached him, breaking apart into motes of light that he powered through to meet the unicorns head on. The two in the lead, while shocked, reared up, hooves at the ready in a weak approximation of an offensive stance.

Weak and ill-prepared. He took both of them at once, leaping forward in a sudden rush and ducking under their outstretched hooves to catch both of them in the gut. Both ponies folded as they flew back, the full weight of his rush lifting one of them from the ground and throwing him against the far wall.

The third unicorn dropped to the ground, hooves over his head. “Don’t kill me!”

Sabra froze, almost tripping over his own hooves, blood-stained crystal rushing through his mind. “I—”

Something slammed into his back, throwing him across the cell in a blaze of pain. Reflexes took over, and he tucked his limbs tightly in, twisting so that his hooves hit the wall first, absorbing the impact and kicking off back in the direction he’d come.

It was the mare from the tower. While he’d been distracted, she’d managed to get the horn-lock off. Her fury was back in full force now, and his eyes widened as he saw the black miasma pouring from her eyes.

What under the sun? He threw himself into a slide, ducking under a dark orb of … something … that flew past, crystal plates squealing against the floor. He jumped next, his body spinning as he drew his Fimbo.

A purple wave of energy swept over him, this time bringing no pain, but shoving him to the side enough that the tip of his staff missed the mare’s horn by inches. The spell’s color and look were unfamiliar, but the function wasn’t. Broad-scale magikinesis, he thought as his hooves touched the ground once more. Useful, but limited.

The jagged black bolt of magic that shot past him next however, blowing apart the wall as it struck and leaving a smokey trail behind it, seemed to have a far more focused application. He spun and dropped to the side, ducking another blast as the mare let out a rage-filled cry.

“Stand still!” There was something off in her voice, a humming resonance that made his ears hurt and sent a chill down his spine. Another black bolt arced out of her horn, a scorching burst of lightning that seemed to suck the very light out of the air as it arced past, just missing his side. Behind him crystal shattered and exploded. The miasma was whirling around her now, toxic-looking clumps of purple magic oozing out of her eyes, ears, and nose before fading into smoke.

He whirled around another attack, leaping and twisting as the bolt slashed by beneath him, leaving a scent that churned his stomach. The magic around the mare seemed to be arcing off of her body, bounding back and forth between her and the black smoke.

“I will do what must be done!” the mare cried, her voice growing even more distorted, like she was vibrating at very high speeds. More bolts arced out at him, but her aim was sloppy, each one going wild.

Movement from the open cell caught his eyes. The Order members in it were on their hooves again, moving to join—except when one reached the cell door, he began to try and pull it closed, eyes wide with terror.

Sabra’s eyes darted to the mare once more, now almost completely surrounded by black smoke and writhing, twisting purple energy that spun like a storm. Black bolts etched charred marks across her flesh, scorching her armor. Purple light poured from her eyes, glowing almost as brightly as her horn.

It took only a moment to connect her actions with her words, and he dove forward, strength flooding through him as he pulled at his mod. The mare was too far gone to even move out of the way, her body crackling with energy as it consumed itself. Black bolts licked his armor as he dove into the storm around her, stinging his flesh. Pain coursed through him, iron spikes of agony striking his limbs. He let out a howl as he swung.

The blow struck home, the force of his mod behind it. Ribs snapped like kindling as the mare flew through the air, laughing even though her chest had to be half-collapsed … and fell through the opening of the cell, her shoulder clipping the closing door and throwing her into a spin. The unicorn that had been trying to close the door let out a scream and fell back, scrambling back up against the wall of the cell.

The door! The cell was magically shielded, so there was a chance … Sabra jumped forward, ignoring the pain in his forelegs as he wrapped his hooves around the handle and began to pull. One of the other unicorns in the cell let out a cry and threw their body forward, crawling across the ground toward the shrinking gap. One hoof cleared it, and Sabra grabbed it, pulling hard and all but throwing the unicorn out of the cell even as he continued to press the door shut. The mare was cackling more madly now, her voice less a real thing and a magical, resonant hum that seemed to fill the air.

The cell shut with a sudden click, the magic field sealing once more and somewhat muting the sound on the mad mare. The unicorn that had been trying to close the door seemed to have noted it as well, throwing themselves forward with a look of panic and pounding against the crystal. “No! Don’t—”

Sabra threw himself to the side, tucking himself into a ball as the black sphere where the mare had been seemed to shrink … and then a moment later a titanic wave rolled over him, sound and fury born as one exploding through the room. Violet light poured from the cell, ripping the reinforcing from their frames and shattering the crystal.

Then it was over, a strange silence falling in the explosion’s wake. Sabra stood slowly, eyeing first the ceiling to make sure it didn’t appear to be coming down, and then the cell.

It worked, Sabra thought as he caught sight of the shattered crystal lying on the far side of the room. It was charred and broken, the pieces alternating between bright reflections and burnt sections of black. The unicorn he’d thrown free was lying underneath several of them, chest faintly rising and falling, but apparently otherwise unharmed.

The same could not be said of those that had stayed in the cell. Sabra’s stomach flipped as he caught sight of charred bones, still arrayed into the shape of their owners. At the center of the cell, the skull of what he assumed was the mare grinned up at him, a black smile of triumph. The once-pointed horn was charred and partially-melted, as if it had been made of wax and held up to some great heat.

Around it, across the floor, the crystal was shattered and charred. The walls had cracked as well, but held, and he turned his gaze away from the grisly sight, instead peering at the cell next door. The inhabitants were pressed against the far wall, shuddering in fear. The wall on their side had bulged outward and was laced with cracks, but still held.

Good. They’ll be out soon anyway. As long as they’re unharmed.

His heart was still pounding, and he forced himself to relax. The deaths clawed at the edges of his mind, screaming to be acknowledged.

He took a deep breath, held it for a moment, then let it out in a gentle sigh. Later.

The unicorn that he had thrown to the far wall was mostly unharmed when he shifted the crystal off of them. Several smaller fragments had punctured their coat, and there were burns across their hindquarters from the explosion, but neither appeared life-threatening. The smell of the latter made his stomach clench once more, and for a moment he feared he was going to need to yank his helmet off. Then his insides settled, and he began to pull the Order unicorn’s unconscious body across the floor.

The other cell was silent as he opened it, none of the occupants doing anything other than fixing him with horrified stares. It wasn’t until he’d shoved their unconscious fellow in with them and closed the door once more that he bothered to look down at himself.

No wonder they’re scared. He shoved the urge to tremble down once again as he looked at his forelimbs and then the rest of his armor. The gray surface was charred and pitted, dark marks coursing across it. Here and there the angular plates had suffered small chips, or in one case, another hair-thin crack. All in all, it didn’t appear to be that bad.

But it looks terrible, he thought, rising once more and noticing a deep, stinging pain from each place on his body where one of the charred marks had hit. Like part of his limbs had gone to sleep, only more painful. Very painful, now that the adrenaline was fading.

He shook his head. No stopping. You still have a tower to clear. He glanced around the cells, noting how many of the crystal ponies were eyeing him with suspicion or fear.

“Here,” he said, walking up to the cell that seemed to hold the healthiest of them. The cell door let out a faint click as he undid the latch. Against the silence of the room, it might as well have been his Fimbo whipping against the floor. “I apologize for the wait. Take these keys, let everyone else out. Close the front door and wait for help. Or, if you know of someplace close that will be safe, go there.” He tossed the keys to one of the occupants, who missed them and sent them skittering across the floor.

“Wait!” The cry made him pause. “Where are you going? Who are you? Are you with the Princesses?” The questions spilled out in a rush, like spilled water, flowing over and around one another.

“I am a Dusk Guard in the service of Princess Celestia and Luna of Equestria.” He paused. What do I say now? “A lot has happened, even in the last day. As I said, stay here and keep safe. Care for those here who need it. Help will be along shortly.” I hope. “I need to go.”

He all but ran for the front door. Only because you’re already late. The fight in the cell blocks had taken a minute, no more, but it put his part of the operation behind schedule.

And cost the lives of—No! Don’t think about it. The deaths were clawing at his mind again, screaming for attention as he galloped down the street. Ahead of him his target blinked like a frantic beacon against the night.

She blew herself up. Killed herself and several others. And for what? Power? Control? He pushed himself as hard as he could, trying to make up for lost time. Is this what their king’s rule was? Destruction and torture?

He pushed forward harder, the sound of his hoofsteps echoing back off of the buildings around him, bouncing and rebounding until it sounded like he was at the center of his own herd.

He could hear shouting coming from ahead. He was almost at the watchtower somehow. Where had time gone? The voices echoed around him, mixing with the sound of his hoofbeats.

“They’re coming!”

“Grab that—”

“Drop it! We need to get to the tower! Everypony—”

There were almost a dozen of them, most unicorns, as well as several terrified crystal ponies who seemed to have been given heavy wagons to pull. They were all standing in front of the tower, several lighting the area with their horns. Some had already turned to run, ready to abandon their fellows as the rolling cacophony of Sabra’s hooves rushed out of the shadows at them. Several stood their ground, one even pointing a light down the street at him, eyes widening in surprise.

“Wait! It’s just—”

Whatever the mare had been about to say was lost as Sabra leaped into the air, launching himself high above their beams of light, and dropped down in the middle of their pack, Fimbo whirling. Screams and cries filled the night as he lashed out in all directions, mod at full power. The Order fell before him like bambara beans before a thresher, bones breaking, screams echoing through the night. A spell shot past his ear, singing the fur, and he whirled, catching another Order member by the rear legs with his staff and flinging them at the one whose horn was lit. They both went down in a tangle of limbs, some of which were probably broken. He flipped back over another trying to charge him from behind, landing on their hindquarters and shoving them down into the ground. He launched himself back, striking two more as he passed them.

Four were down. Then five. Then seven. A shield blocked his blow, only to shatter as he drew on his mod once more, punching through it and blasting the unicorn at the other side across the street. They went through a window.

Nine down. A flash of light from the tower matched one at his side, and he turned as a heavy warhammer, gripped in the magic of the unicorn that had just teleported, slammed into into the side of his helmet. He snapped his head back and rolled with the blow, coming up on his hooves and just ducking a second blow as the unicorn swung again. His head was swimming, but the roll had tempered the impact. He kicked another of the Order unicorns into the warhammer’s path as he fell back again, and its owner hesitated.

It was the only window he needed. He jumped up and over, blocking a frantic swipe of the hammer with his staff and bringing his elbow down atop his attacker’s horn. They let out a cry of pain, the magic field around their hammer winking out. The cry cut out a moment later when the rest of Sabra’s blow came down atop their head.

The door to the station burst open, three more unicorns rushing out. All wearing armor. Two were holding long, bladed halberds in their magic, the last simply lit their horn and sent a barrage of glowing missiles streaking across the street.

Weeks of training with Nova, Sky, Hunter, Dawn, and Steel took over. He threw himself to the side, the missiles zipping past and twisting in the air as they tried to hit him. He let go of his Fimbo at the apex of his spin, the metal staff cutting through the air toward the distant spellcaster. One of the soldiers with a halberd batted it to the side.

They weren’t able to do the same when Sabra kicked one of their compatriots at them. The soldier stepped to the side, juking out of the way—and the body slammed into the spellcaster, who went down with a shot.

Only one of the original Order members on the street was still up, and seeing Sabra without his weapon, they rushed at him, light beaming from their horn as they formed a spell. A telekinetic grip seized at his armor, only to slip away as he shoved through it and slammed a hoof into the unicorn. They went down hard and didn’t get up.

The two soldiers had rushed forward, and he blocked a swipe of one halberd with his armored foreleg before jumping over another. Beyond them, their supporting spellcaster was getting up, and angry sneer on their face and black smoke leaking from their eyes.

Spellcaster. He kicked one of the halberds aside and dodged around its wielder, ducking low as a follow-up swipe cut through the air where his head had just been. The Order unicorn—mage maybe, by the look of them—was on their hooves, horn aglow. A wall of smokey miasma rolled out and over everything. Sabra threw himself to the ground—

Panic swept over him, a cascade of images and terrors flowing through his mind. Then it was gone with the smoke, though he could hear screams behind him. In front of him, the unicorn’s eyes glowed an ominous purple, while behind …

The trio of crystal ponies that had ducked away from him in fear were charging right at him, eyes glowing the same sickly purple. One of them tripped over a body, slamming their nose into the pavement and falling to its side. It continued to run in place, blood streaming down their muzzle.

Dark magic! One of the darkest, no less. Sabra spun back around, sliding on one hoof around a blow from a halberd, making for the mage and—

His rear hoof yanked out from underneath him, throwing him to the ground. He rolled, a second halberd slashing into the ground where his neck had just been. The second warrior tried to hook his hoof with magic again, and he yanked away, back toward the oncoming crystal ponies. The mage was charging another spell, clearly talented enough to keep loose control over the crystal ponies and still cast. The two soldiers were rushing him again, halberds at the ready. His Fimbo was too far away to get to, and cut off by the soldiers in any case.

His hoof bumped something heavy and solid, and the answer came in a flash. He rolled back, grabbing at it and then jumping forward toward the soldiers, dodging a sloppy tackle from one of the controlled ponies. The soldier saw him coming, saw the hoof whipping around for a strike, brought his halberd up to block, and … the wooden shaft shattered as the warhammer Sabra had grabbed crashed through it, splintering the wood without so much as a pause. It’s owner let out a cry of pain, the light of their magic winking out as the feedback rushed across their horn.

He however wasn’t the target. For the second time, Sabra let go of his weapon, the hammer spinning out across the street. Then there was a sharp, brutal crunch of impact … and the mage let out a scream of agony as their horn snapped at the base, loose magic exploding out of them and lighting the night. The controlled crystal ponies slumped to the ground at the same time that their controller did. Hopefully they’d be okay.

He didn’t feel the same about the mage.

A halberd darted down at him, but he rolled forward, wrapping one hoof around his Fimbo once more. He took the wounded soldier first, laying into him with a barrage of rapid blows to the face so powerful that they held the stallion upright until they were over and he could collapse to the ground.

One down, he turned his attention to the second soldier. For a moment the stallion froze, then he threw his halberd to the ground and lowered himself to his belly, forehooves up in surrender.

Sabra’s hoof cracked across his jaw hard enough to twist his head, stunning him. A moment later, he slapped a horn-lock around his horn and looked up and down the street. He was the only one standing. He glanced in the front entrance of the station, checking for any sign of danger, and then, without a word or a sound dropped to his haunches.

Steel and Dawn would meet him here soon. He just had to stay put. For a moment all was still and quiet.

Then his hooves started to shake, followed by his whole body, trembling as everything caught up with him in a rush.

He was still shaking when Dawn arrived some time later.

Author's Notes:

One thing I liked about having the two teams is that we got to see how they're starting to both learn from one another and count on one another. Sabra's learned from Nova how to sneak, but laments that Nova would be better at it. Meanwhile Team B is thinking "too bad the other three aren't here."

I'm so proud of these six. They're really growing. Comes with some pain though, as Sabra is finding.

On that note, this was also a brutal chapter that took several rewrites to get right. Sabra is facing a lot of horrors here, and threading that careful, real balance of working through it, pushing it off in the moment, and digesting it was really hard. I'm very proud of him, and of me for pulling it off. It wasn't easy ... but I think it's worth it.

As always, new chapters on Tuesdays and Fridays, as well as every hundred upvotes! If you're enjoying the story so far, don't forget to check out my website or my published works!

Chapter 21

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The sky was a perfect, crystal-clear blue, better than almost any sky Hunter could remember. There wasn’t a cloud in sight, the sun was beaming, wind whipping through his mane, and best of all, he wasn’t flying solo. He glanced over at his side, where Thistle glided along steadily on a thermal, her wide wings beating only once to every two beats of his own. She caught his eyes and smiled at him. It was a soft, quiet smile, but it was perfect.

Beneath them, Equestria stretched out like a living tapestry. Off to their left, Canterlot sparkled in the sun, its gold and marble towers gleaming against the verdant green of the Canter. Behind them, Cloudsdale drifted on the winds, bobbing up and down in the high-altitude jetstreams. Beneath them, smaller cousins of those same winds sent rippling waves across thousands of acres of farmland, rustling through wheat, corn, and dozens of other crops he couldn’t even identify.

It felt good to stretch his wings. And to be warm again, after their last mission. Something to do with … cold? The memory felt strangely distant, and he shoved it aside. At the moment, it didn’t matter. He was flying, high in a sunny sky, and Thistle was flying with him. What else mattered?

Ahead the Everfree Forest loomed, flanked by the small town of Ponyville. He could even see the old Ranger station he’d been assigned to poking above thick forest canopy. That was right, he and Thistle were flying there so he could show her the place.

Why? He ignored the faint, lingering question as Thistle gave him another smile. Ponyville was beneath them, though it didn’t seem like they were flying that fast. They banked as one, never speaking, just enjoying the sensation of flight and one another’s company as they swept over the treetops.

The Ranger station loomed ahead of them, wooden deck just the way he remembered it, right down to the deck chair he’d had. I guess the new guy didn’t change much. He flared his wings, sapping his speed as he came in to land. His hooves let out hollow thunks against the wood as he landed atop the deck, and he spun, smiling as Thistle landed in front of him.

“Well,” he said, spreading his wings as his voice echoed faintly back at him. “This is it. The Ranger station of Everfree. Lived here for a few years.”

“After Swift died, right?” Thistle’s sudden statement caught him off-guard, and he flinched slightly before nodding.

“Yeah. I kind of needed to get away for awhile. And, well, this is pretty out of the way.”

Thistle nodded in turn, folding her wings to her sides as she took a few steps forward, looking through one of the large windows at the interior of the tower. An interior, Hunter noted, that looked a lot like he’d left it.

“That’s actually kind of why I wanted to come see it,” Thistle said, still looking through the window. Then she turned, and something cold crawled down his spine. Her expression had changed. It was … hard, somehow. “After all, you’re about to be here again.”

“What?”

Thistle gave him a sad smile, though there was still that same harshness to it. “That’s why I wanted to come here. To tell you, Hunter, that you belong back here.”

“I don’t …” He took a step back, gobsmacked. “What are—?”

“Swift died because of you, Hunter,” Thistle said, taking a step forward, the sad smile dropping off her face. Her words felt like a spear stabbing at his chest. Even her coat seemed darker, the light periwinkle shifting shades. “She died.”

“I … I …” The words wouldn’t come. He took another step back, and then another as Thistle continued forward, still speaking. “I didn’t …”

“You were supposed to be there, Hunter,” she said, her eyes glaring at him as he continued to back up. The wooden deck began to creak beneath his armored hooves, the structure swaying in the wind, the wood soft and rotten. “You weren’t!”

“I … I tried!” He kept backing up as thin wisps of black smoke began to slide out of the corners of Thistle’s eyes, her teeth lengthening into points.

“Not hard enough,” she said, her voice shifting and sliding, echoing all around him and making the platform tremble. His rear hooves slipped against an edge, rotted wood giving way, and he jerked, trying to keep his balance. “Will you try just as hard for me? When something you do gets me killed?” The sky had gone dark, the black smoke leaking from her eyes swelling to cover the horizon. Around them the forest had come to life, branches whipping and lashing in a sudden storm of wind.

“I …” The words wouldn’t come, no matter how hard he tried. He couldn’t speak. Thistle however, her coat now having shifted from periwinkle to purple to a shade so dark it was almost black, had no such problems.

“So I’m getting out of your life before you let someone else die.”

The deck gave way beneath his hooves, and he fell, wooden branches lashing against his legs and sides as he tumbled down, trying, fighting to say something, anything as Thistle began to spread her wings and fly away, anything at all as the branches wrapped around him, squeezing him, tightening around his wings until the bones cracked—

“No!” Hunter sat straight as the word exploded out of his chest, pulse pounding as he looked in all directions wildly, trying to make sense of—

The cabin. The lights were low, the windows dark, but there was no mistaking it. He was sitting on his bunk, wings outspread, still wearing his armor, his helmet sitting next to the pillow.

Slowly his breath began to come at a more regular pace. It was a bad dream, he thought, staring down at his hooves in the dim light and letting out a sigh of relief. Even then, the sense of panic didn’t quite seem to leave. It was just a bad dream.

“Nightmare?” He jumped as the voice echoed out of the near-darkness, jerking as his eyes fixed on Nova, who was lying on his own bunk.

He nodded. “Yeah. Bad one.”

Nova nodded. He was wearing his whole armor, helmet included. “Yeah. Me too. Put on your helmet.”

“What?”

“Put on your helmet.”

“All right.” Pulse still thumping, he reached out and picked up his helmet, sliding it down over his head. The faint feeling of panic faded almost immediately. “What—?”

“It went away, didn’t it?” Nova asked. Hunter nodded. “I thought so.”

“What do you mean?” Hunter asked, pushing himself up a little further. Now that his eyes had adjusted, he could make out the clock and see that it was only a half-hour before he’d planned to be up anyway. No wonder I still feel tired.

“I had the same thing,” Nova said quietly. “Nightmare. Pretty bad one. Woke up the same way, just a few minutes ago, minus the yell. Threw my helmet on and the panic went away.”

“Wait.” His head felt clearer now that he had been awake for a few moments. “You’re saying the fear—?”

“Sombra,” Nova said with a nod. “It’s faint, but it’s there. Same thing he was using on the yeti last night. I was about to wake you up when …” He waved a hoof. “The helmet is like the armor: blocks the magic.”

“Resists it, you mean,” Hunter said. Then he sat up straight. “What about Sky Bolt?” His eyes darted to the cockpit hatch.

“She sleeps with her helmet on,” Nova said. “She’s probably fine.”

“Better to check.” He slid out of his bunk, hooves hitting the deck with faint muffled thumps, and trotted to the cockpit door. It opened without a sound, revealing a snoring Sky Bolt slumped back in the pilot’s seat. As Nova had said, she was wearing her helmet. The Hummingbird rattled as another gust of wind rolled over it, jostling the mare, but she didn’t wake up.

Guess she can tell the difference between something normal shaking and something going wrong, he thought as he closed the door. Nova was still sitting back on his bunk. “So … back to sleep?”

“No,” Nova said, shaking his head. “Not after that nightmare.”

“Must have been a bad one.”

“Do you feel like sleeping?”

“Fair point,” Hunter said, stepping back across the cabin. “No. Breakfast?” He moved toward the galley, but then stopped. “Wait. I can take my helmet off and put it back on, right?”

“You’ll feel it,” Nova replied. “But yeah.”

“Good. I’m hungry.” And there should still be some fresh apples in the icebox. “You want anything?”

“Not yet. Maybe in a bit. Dream’s still pretty fresh.”

“Do you … want to talk about it?”

“No.” The answer was clipped and quick.

“Fair enough,” Hunter said, grabbing a second apple to go with the first. “I guess I don’t really feel like talking about mine either.” A shiver ran down his spine as Thistle’s warped face slipped across his mind. At all.

“Here,” he said, tossing the second apple to Nova as he shut the icebox door. Nova caught it in a blue glow. “For when you feel up to eating something.”

“Thanks.”

“No worries.” He trotted over to the central table and took a seat, staring out the window while pulling his helmet off. The sense of fear returned as soon as the crystal left his head, but braced for it, it wasn’t that bad. He set the helmet aside and reached for the apple. “So …” he said after a few bites had vanished. “He’s getting stronger then.”

“That, or he’s specifically targeting us,” Nova replied. “But he didn’t do that before, so I’d have to agree either way.”

“That’s not good.”

“No.” Nova shook his head. “It isn’t. Any ideas?”

“You’re the magic-user.”

“Yeah,” Nova said, a hint of humor entering his voice. “But you’re the lieutenant. So it’s your job to come up with plans.”

“Fair point.” The apple let out another faint crunch as he took another bite. “Private Beam? Tell me what you think we can do to counteract King Sombra’s magic growth. I need to know what my subordinates know so I can formulate a plan.”

“Ouch.” Nova shifted, sitting up further as the airship rattled under another gust of wind, propellers briefly jumping in tone. “Fair enough. Honestly? Short of fighting him to a standstill, the best I think we can do is keep him running?”

“You don’t sound sure,” Hunter said between bites.

“How can I be?” Nova asked, throwing his hooves up. “All I know is that he’s a ‘shade’ and that he’s regaining his magical power. We both guessed that being in the crystal is helping him judging by the way he’s soaking up nearby magic, but …” He paused. “You do know how magic works with our bodies, right?”

“Eh.” Hunter waggled a wing. “Run it by me again?”

“Right, well, I’m not the best on this, but magic exhaustion, right? Say a pony somehow manages to get completely exhausted without burning out.”

“Like you did that one time?”

“I came close,” Nova said with a nod. “But I passed out since I wasn’t used to using so much. Say I’d stayed alert, and used all my magic. Or something stole it.”

“Okay.”

“So I’d be completely without magic,” Nova continued. “Since our bodies rely on magic, there’d be adverse effects everywhere. Shortness of breath, stuff like that. But our bodies also make magic, so the moment, the instant the drain stopped, we’d start getting better. It could take a few weeks, but we’d be back to normal. With me so far?”

Another bite. “Yeah.”

“Okay. But the thing is, as much as our bodies metabolize magic out of what we eat—ask Dawn, not me—there’s magic all around us too. It’s everywhere. A lot of spells unicorns cast rely on working with it. Same with weather magic and pegasi, earth ponies and plants … you get the idea. It’s like … that little bit of static you get sometimes.”

“Gotcha. Good analogy.”

“Thanks.” Nova perked slightly. “Anyway, when you’re magic-starved, your body will try and soak up that energy too.”

“To bring it back to neutral,” Hunter said, nodding.

“Sure. That works. Anyway, while it’s not great at it, being around high-magic usage or magic-intense areas has been suggested in cases of exhaustion. Saturation-theory.”

“Theory? No one’s ever tested it?”

“Exhaustion is usually pretty rare,” Nova said with a shrug. “Anyway, when you’re exhausted, you’re supposed to get a lot of rest so that your body can regenerate. So … running? He doesn’t have a body, but the same rule might apply.”

“Basically, what we were planning to do already.”

“Not quite.”

Hunter paused. “What?”

“We’re dropping a tree on him, then he’s running,” Nova said. His grin stretched to his eyes. “Since you wanted to be all specific, sir.”

“I … Right, you got me there.” Hunter eyed the core of his apple before crunching it down. It didn’t taste quite as good as the rest of the apple, but it wouldn’t hurt him, and it didn’t make sense to waste it. “Wish we had more to go off of, though, aside from ‘keep him from the Crystal Empire.”

Nova nodded. “And then he’s heading the opposite way anyway.”

“Maybe he’s lost,” Hunter said, snorting. “It’d sure make our jobs a little easier.”

“And too convenient,” Nova added. “Can you imagine presenting that after-action report to the Princesses?”

Hunter let out a quick laugh as he shoved his helmet back down over his head. The faint unease clawing at the back of his mind faded. “Why yes, Princess Celestia, it actually was pretty easy. See, the guy was lost …”

Nova let out a short laugh of his own. “So much for the elite Dusk Guard. Turns out all that needed to happen was for the guy to get out and wander into the Ocean.”

Hunter’s mirth faded. “Right.” The Ocean. “I hope he doesn’t do that.” And not just because we can’t follow. Who knew what sort of damage a shade could cause up there? And things are already bad enough. He’d kept his ears close to the ground, picking over reports from Northgait after Blade had blasted through it. A lot of the information was sketchy at best, much of it coming from dust traffickers at the border looking to sell a little information or gossip on the side, but none of it was good. It wasn’t for no reason that the “country” was off-limits. Small brush-fire or not, a war was a war. Pirate-kings, unicorn supremacy cults, griffons … the place was a mess.

“Oh, right.” Nova went silent. The Hummingbird rattled again, swaying slightly, and Hunter caught a faint flicker outside the windows. A reflection of lightning in the glass.

We must be facing east, he thought as the airship rocked up and down slightly in the wake of another gust. I wonder if that’s just for ease, or if it’s because of the wind at this altitude, or—

“How do you think the captain and the rest of the team are doing?” Nova asked, interrupting his thoughts. Hunter shook his head, dragging his mind back to the unicorn.

“Sorry, what?” he asked before he could catch himself. “Captain Song?”

“And the rest of the team,” Nova said again. “In the city.”

“I …” He shrugged. “Hopefully nothing crook. Steel’s a good commander, and he knows what he’s doing. Dawn’s a good doctor, and Sabra … Well, let’s just say the Royal and Night Guard will be glad he’s getting a chance to bludgeon somepony else into submission. I wouldn’t be surprised if we saw their signal sometime today. I mean, storms, Captain Armor will probably show up and find Steel sitting by the throne wondering what kept him.”

The sky outside the windows was finally starting to light up, even if ever so faintly, which meant that it would soon be dawn. Which also meant they’d need to get moving soon. Sky Bolt will be waking up any minute now, if she isn’t awake already just to check the status of the ship. He rose again, stepping over to the galley. Halfway there, his stomach let out another pang, letting him know that it wasn’t quite satisfied with his offering thus far.

“You’d better eat,” he said, nodding in Nova’s direction as the pitch of The Hummingbird’s propellers changed. Bolt was definitely awake. “We’ve got a long day ahead of us. You get to try your hoof at being a lumberjack.”

“Actually, about that,” Nova said, rising from his bunk and moving to the table. His magic, Hunter noted, had switched from night to day, its color now a soft yellow. “I know we liked the idea, but do we have an actual plan?”

“Yeah, we do,” Hunter said, rooting through the galley before finding something quick and easy to warm up on the stove. “Bolt said she had cutcord, so one of us will need to sneak into the yeti camp and wire that up properly. Two cuts: one on the side we want the tree to fall in, wedge-shaped, and a second on the other.”

“Sneaking,” Nova said, nodding. “So … me?”

“Pretty much,” Hunter replied. “Especially since the other job is going to be to tie a rope around the top of the tree and then pull it in the direction we want the tree to go, just as a help to the wedge. From the air.”

“Right. So unless I can fly—”

“I’ve heard there are spells for that.”

“—and since Bolt needs to fly The Hummingbird, that means it’s me.”

“Pretty much. It’s not too hard, though. I’ll walk you through the two cuts.”

“Plus, you have an advantage.” Sky Bolt’s voice cut across the cabin as she stepped through the doorway to the cockpit. Hunter hadn’t even heard it open. “You can activate the cutcord with magic.”

“Spot on,” Hunter said, nodding. He looked at Bolt. “How’d you sleep?”

“Aside from waking up every twenty minutes to check on my baby, I slept pretty well,” Bolt said, sitting down at the table with a yawn.

“And how’d she do?” Nova asked.

Sky Bolt perked up, ears twisting. “Really good! She actually held her position better than I thought she would. I had to make some occasional adjustments, but for the most part, she’s riding the storm pretty well.”

“Did you have any nightmares?” Hunter asked.

Sky Bolt looked over at him in surprise. “No …” she said, drawing the word out. “Should I have?”

“Did you wear your helmet all night?” She nodded. “Do that then, and you won’t.”

“Sombra,” Nova added. “He was using emotion magic.”

A shudder ran through Bolt. “One of you …?”

“Both of us,” Hunter answered. “Just trust us, leave your helmet on when you sleep.”

“Granted,” Nova said, stepping into the galley and sweeping a collection of utensils and plates out with his magic, as well as adding several more items to the side of the heated stove. “If we take out that crystal, the fear thing might go away. It could be amplifying his powers.”

“Wait, like one of my mods?”

“More like a battery,” Nova said, turning and floating the plates and utensils over to the table. “Only not even that. More like …” He paused for a moment. “Like a whirlpool in water. It sucks up everything near it and lets him use more than he has, but the moment we break it, all that goes away. That’s why it’s drawing magic to him.”

“I mean,” he continued. The first slice of breakfast hit their small griddle with a hot sizzle. “The guy is over a thousand years behind the times. The batteries the Tam sisters came up with were pretty new, your mods even newer. So a soak of some kind makes more sense. Especially if he was working around whatever group-magic the crystal ponies could do.”

“I wish I’d been able to see more of their city,” Bolt said. “A whole city made out of crystal? How do they heat it? Does it have to do with the layout of the streets? Are they magic conductors? The place looks like it was made to do it!” She let out a sigh and sank back. “So many questions.”

“As soon as we’ve saved the place, I’m sure whoever’s in charge won’t mind,” Hunter said, flipping one of the slices. “Plus, you’ll have earned a leave. Crud, all of us will have.” He glanced at their stores, then tossed a fourth slice on the griddle. “Anyone else want two?”

“One’s fine,” Bolt said.

“I’ll take two,” Nova said quickly. Hunter tossed another slice onto the grill, watching as the pressed collection of vegetables fried. “So then … Cutcord. What do I have to do?”

“It’s pretty simple,” Bolt said. “Wrap it around what you want to cut and touch it off. It just takes a spark of energy to get the bonds to unwind, and then it goes, and fast. Don’t be holding it when it happens.”

“Do I have to hold it to the tree?”

“Not this stuff. You can peel the outer layer back to reveal a sticky underlayer for attaching it to stuff. Once it goes, it goes, though, so I’ll set you up with a couple of pre-cut lengths so you won’t have to worry about that.”

“Actually, you’ll want to do a little cutting on your own,” Hunter cut in, glancing at the pair. “Not on the cord, but to the tree. Bark on these pines is thick, and it’d just slough off if you tried to cut it. The cord will need to be on the wood.”

“Okay. So remove the bark. Make a crescent wedge on the side facing the crystal.”

“Probably closer to a half-circle than a crescent,” Hunter added. “And with some horizontal overlap, just to make sure the wedge cuts. I’ll sketch it out for you.”

“Crisscross,” Bolt cut in, shaking her head. “That’ll make the wedge more likely to collapse. I’ll do some math so you have roughly the right length. Any extra could just wrap back over it.”

“This is sounding more complicated by the minute,” Nova said, his gaze jumping between both of them. “Just to cut down a tree? Can’t we use explosives?”

“Cutcord is kind of explosive,” Bolt said. “Sort of. Don’t be too close when it goes off.”

“Plus, do you want to use magic to slice the tree down?” Hunter added in. “It’s more energy than you might think.” He turned back, nose itching. One of the slices was a little close to being burnt, and he flipped it off of the griddle and onto a waiting plate.

“No, I get it,” Nova said, voice slightly irate. “I just didn’t expect this level of complexity. I can handle it.”

“Well, one of us could always—”

“Hunter.” Nova’s voice was firm, but not harsh. “I can handle it. Peel off the bark, attach the cord with an adhesive side in a prescribed pattern, get back, then touch it off. Not the most complex thing I’ll have ever done.”

“Well … Good.” He flipped another slice off of the griddle and onto the plate, then a third. “Well, if you say you’ve got it, then you’ve got it.” The final slices landed atop the pile, and he shut the griddle off. “So I’ll tie the rope on the top while you’re applying the cord. Once you see the rope go tight, that’ll mean I’m in position to pull the top over and you can set off the cord. Wedge first, then the second side, which will be one cut. The wedge pieces should pop out, the weakened bit on the other side should snap, and …” He dropped the plate to the table with a ring. “Bam. Down it goes. Right on top of the crystal.”

He glanced at the window once more as Nova and Bolt both took their slices from his plate. The sun was definitely rising, though the thick storm clouds overhead still made it hard to tell how far up it really was. A light dusting of snow seemed to be coming down, though it was hard to tell as violent as the wind was. Nova and Bolt both shuddered as they pulled their helmets off. Still that fear, he thought as he pulled his own off. A sense of unease settled over him almost immediately.

“That’s creepy,” Bolt said, shivering. “I know what it is, but I can still feel it.”

“Yeah, well, let’s eat fast,” Nova said, speaking through bites. “And see if we can make him feel something in return.”

Breakfast passed quickly, each of them wolfing down their fried slices as quickly as they could before shoving their helmets back into place. Bolt went back to the cockpit, first to check their heading, then to work out how much cutcord to give Nova. Hunter, meanwhile, double-checked his gear. His saddlebags were heavier than they had been the day before, just on the odd chance that things got worse.

Worse than they already were, anyway. The snowfall had thickened in just the short time they’d taken to eat breakfast, shifting from a light dust to thick, heavy flakes that reduced visibility and made the low light even less-illuminating.

That’ll make tracking this thing harder, Hunter thought as he cinched his saddlebags into place, checking the buckles and straps to make sure they were lying cleanly against the side of his armor, with minimal slippage. And no noise, he thought as one of the buckle ends pinged against the side of his armor. He carefully threaded it back through itself until it was locked tight. Across the cabin, Nova was doing the same with a pouch attached to his chest for the cutcord. Drop a tree and then …

He looked out the window once more, watching as the falling snow continued to thicken. This might make it hard to spot the signal from the city, too. One more thing to worry about. Feathers, if it gets thick enough, just keeping an eye on one another or The Hummingbird could get stroppy. He’d been in storms like it before, where the snows were so thick that it became difficult to tell north from south, much less find something that was a bare hundred feet away. The swirling snows and wind could make navigation all but impossible.

Then again, we’ve got our beacons. Outside the glass, the snows continued to swirl and dart around the airship, twisting and seething in their own currents. In fact … He glanced down at his own equipment, then moved toward the cockpit. “Hey, Bolt?”

“Yeah?” Sky Bolt was sitting at the controls once more, though the bunk beside her showed a pile of saddlebags and gear he had no doubt was there just in case of emergencies. It was strapped down, too. Another precaution.

“You see how thick this is getting?” He waved a hoof toward the snows outside the cockpit. Beneath them, he could see the side of the mountain, along with the copse of trees their quarry had taken shelter in, but it was far from an ideal view.

“Yeah,” Bolt said, nodding. “It’s going to make keeping an eye on this guy hard. Spotlights are right out. An airship could come within a mile of us and we likely wouldn’t even know.”

“Right,” he said, dropping to his haunches, the weight in his saddlebags shifting slightly. It meant something was out of place. Something he’d need to fix. “Well, I just had a thought, and you’d be the one to dob in on it.”

“Whatcha got?” Bolt asked, her eyes still on the controls.

“The beacons we have,” he said, tapping his saddlebags with one hoof. “The emergency ones that a unicorn can home in on?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, with everything you’ve been doing to replicate spells with your mods, is there a way you could replicate that?”

Bolt paused for a moment, hooves frozen in place above the controls. Then she turned, eyes wide beneath her visor, wings spreading. “Like a signal from each team-member that the suits could pick up?”

“Actually, I was thinking more for The Hummingbird,” he said quickly. “So we could know where it was in conditions like this.”

Bolt’s eyes widened further, and she sat back, one hoof tapping against the side of her seat. “That could work. It’d be useful for more than The Hummingbird too. Airships use lights to mark their positions and communicate with one another, but a magical signal would work as well, especially if there was a power source. It couldn’t run all the time of course, and the battery would take up a bit of weight, especially if it was reusable, but for adverse conditions, if they sent out a pulse every few minutes … Picking it up would be another issue, unless there was a unicorn on board—fine for our airships, but less for something from one of the other kingdoms, and …” She trailed off, her eyes fixing on him as if seeing him for the first time in minutes.

“Right,” she said, pulling her wings in and composing herself. “Good idea! I’ll think about it later. Right now though, if I lose track of you two, I’ll try getting a little higher and flashing the lights in regular patterns.”

“Don’t forget,” Hunter said, twisting as he opened the saddlebag that had shifted and finding the offending item. “Nova will at least be able to track a beacon. You can set one of them off up here, and he’ll feel it.”

“So could Sombra,” Bolt pointed out. “But yeah, he could. Just …” She hung for a second over the controls before turning to look at him. “Don’t get lost, all right?”

“Me?” He shook his head. “Worse comes to worse, I’ll just try to fly back to the city. I’m more worried about losing track of one another out here and letting Sombra slip through our hooves.”

Bolt nodded, and he could tell by her eyes that she was frowning behind her helmet. “Not being able to communicate is part of the problem. Trust me, I’ve been working on that one. There’s some research coming out of the Burning Lands, but—”

He could sense the runaway conversation ramping up once more. “Bolt.” At the sound of her name, she turned back toward him, her words ceasing as quickly as if she’d flipped a switch. “Another time, all right? The equipment you’ve built for us is amazing. So we’ve found a few wrinkles. Steel ever tell you about battle plans?”

She shook her head. “I don’t think so?”

He shrugged. “It’s one of his platitudes. ‘No plan survives contact with the enemy.’ Well, not his. Just about everypony uses it. Everybeing too. Point being, you’re never prepared enough. And if you think you are, well … Something will happen that neither side expected.”

“The only consolation,” he continued, “is that the same is true for the other side.” He leaned forward, peering out the window through the thick snows at the small, clustered forest beneath them. “In any case, you should start bringing us down. Does the west side of the trees work?”

“It’ll be pretty bumpy, but yeah.” Bolt pointed. “See those swirls?”

“I see ‘em,” he said, eyes locking on the twisting snow patterns. “Crosscurrents. Tough to fly through.”

“Try being an airship,” Bolt said, adjusting the controls. Outside, the whine of the propellers changed, picking up as the airship began to move at last. “We’re going to get spun pretty good. I’ll get you as close as I can, but when I say you need to go …”

“No, I get it. Just do what you can, then watch for a tree coming down.” He turned, peering through the open hatch to the main cabin. “Nova? You ready?”

“I’m ready,” Nova said, still checking the straps on his saddlebags. “Just triple-checking everything. You’ve got the rope, right?”

Hunter nodded. The thick coil was strapped in place atop his hindquarters, squarely between his saddlebags. “Right here. I’ll pull, you push.”

“We airlifting or am I climbing?”

Hunter glanced at Bolt, eyeing her as he replied. “Definitely airlifting,” he said. “Let’s not leave Bolt to deal with the ropes.” Or worry about them getting sucked into a propeller. Weighted or not, the wind out there looks pretty rough. In fact … “Bolt? What’s the wind-speed out there anyway?”

“Well, it’s not easy to say since I can’t really get a good read on our own speed,” she answered, flapping her wings slightly as The Hummingbird began to drop. “But we’re not moving that fast, so based off of the gauge? About seventy knots, gusting.”

“Knots?” Nova asked, trotting up to the hatch.

“Nautical miles,” Hunter replied almost automatically. “And no, I don’t know who decided to use that term for wind-speed, or why, when it has the word ‘nautical’ in it.”

“That’s a lot of wind.”

“You’re telling me,” Bolt said, both hooves wrapped around the controls. They were shaking in her hooves, and not because she was. “I’ll get you two as close to the—”

The ship jerked to one side, Hunter popping his wings out as he stumbled. Nova let out a curse as he tumbled partway to the deck. The ship jerked back in the other direction a second later, though this time his weight was spread, and he moved with it.

“There’s the first crosswind,” Bolt said, a deep vibration underscoring her words. “You’re still about a hundred and twenty feet up, but I’d recommend making the jump now. That good?”

“It’ll have to do, no matter how crook this weather is.” The snowfall was thick enough that he still couldn’t see the ground. Or maybe he could; it was hard to tell with white-on-white. “Nova?”

“Got it!” The unicorn turned and bolted for the rear of the airship, almost stumbling when it shook beneath them again. The roar of the propellers picked up as they made their way down the hall, fighting the heavy winds, and the ship shook again.

“All right!” Hunter called as the hatch opened to the howling winds. Snowflakes swept into the entryway alongside a biting cold that seemed to cut right through his armor. “You know the drill!”

“I know!” Nova said, sitting in the open hatchway, the wind sweeping around him. “Let’s go!”

“Right!” He wrapped his forelegs around Nova’s chest. “Three … Two … One … Drop!” For the second time in as many days, they tumbled out of the side of The Hummingbird.

The crosswinds caught them almost immediately, throwing them to the side and into a brutal spin. Hunter narrowed his eyes to slits, counting in his head as they rolled again and again, wind pulling at them from all angles even with his pegasus magic doing its best to keep things straight.

Through his clenched eyes, he saw Nova’s horn start to light. “No shield!” he yelled as loud as he could manage! “Sail!” The yellow glow winked out, Nova getting the message.

The treetops were coming up fast, and they were still spinning. He risked folding part of one wing out, the winds tearing at his feathers as he used it to slow their spin.

Winds are backing off. Stabilizing. The ground was getting close fast. They’d already passed the tops of some of the tallest trees. There! He extended his other wing, both now half-way unfolded, controlling their descent with the bare tips.

Too close, he thought as a pine branch whipped past, needles almost close enough to touch his armor. More to the side. He could definitely make out the ground now, rising up at them like an icy wall. They were drifting south, though, away from the trees and toward the thin lip of the mountain before it became a climb. Halfway there … now!

He pressed his wings further out, green lines lighting up along his suit as his pegasus magic went into full swing. His forelegs groaned in protest as Nova’s weight suddenly doubled, then tripled.

Less than fifty feet to go. Forty. Thirty.

Twenty.

He extended his wings to their full length, and Nova’s weight, as well as the pull of the ground beneath him, trebled once more a brief instant before settling down to something far more reasonable. The world around him twisted, vertical and horizontal aligning once more as the tight turn put them into a level flight out over the mountainside. He twisted, his magic feeling at the air ahead of him and warning of the sudden increase in airspeed past the drop, then circled back.

“Right,” he said as the trees loomed. “Dropping.” He unwrapped his aching forelegs, Nova falling down to the snow in a silent landing. Hunter tucked his wings in and followed a moment later, sinking to his chest in the snowpack.

“Well,” he said, looking at Nova. “That wasn’t so bad, was it? Although …” He sat back and flexed his forelegs a few times. “Might have been smarter to use a harness.”

“Or just teleport,” Nova said, shaking his head and swaying from one side to the other. “Less dizziness.”

“How’s that coming anyway?”

“You’ve read the reports,” Nova said, still swaying but getting steadier by the moment.

“Yeah, but I’ve not actually asked.”

“I teleport about as well as I’m standing right now.”

“So you can.”

“Yeah,” Nova said, shaking his head again. “But some of the important things don’t quite come out straight. Like down right now.”

“So … what? Missing limbs? I didn’t see that in the reports.”

“No, nothing that bad. But definitely check the report for words like ‘velocity’ or ‘destination.’”

“Oh. Okay. Gotcha.” I guess that explains that one note about the water in the … Well, yeah. “You almost ready?” Above them, The Hummingbird had moved off, its engines a faint roar beneath the wind and the envelope only partly visible.

“About,” Nova said, shaking his head again and taking a few tentative steps. “Did you forget your snowshoes?”

“They’re in my saddlebags,” Hunter said. “I’ll fight the wind for the time being, since I’ll be flying around a tree anyway.” If anything, I should have brought claws, but … “I take it you’re good to go?”

Nova nodded. “Breakfast isn’t coming up anytime soon.”

“Good,” Hunter replied. “Let’s move.”

They stayed silent as they moved through the trees, Nova moving step by step, Hunter floating just above the snow. Beneath the trees the snowfall wasn’t as bad, though flakes still drifted down from above, somehow making it through the branches and swirling around them in the mountain winds.

There. The first buried half-sphere of a yeti shelter loomed ahead, and Hunter nodded at Nova before pointing with one wing. Nova returned the nod, and they both gave the shelter a wide berth, as they did the next few.

Closer, Hunter thought as they moved deeper into the forest. Now we just need to find the right tree. The clearing was ahead of them, and once again a glance at Nova brought a faint nod and signal that there was magic around.

There. It was a large, tall pine a few dozen feet from the edge of the clearing, but with nothing between it and the edge. The trunk looked to be about as thick as a pony was long, and when he ran his eyes up, it seemed to be about as tall as the rest of its fellows. And, by some chance, there weren’t many lower branches. Which is probably why there’s no shelter at its base. Nothing to make one with, Hunter thought as he signaled to Nova and pointed out the tree. Nova gave a motion of affirmation, angling his way toward it.

Now just to find a good possie opposite to do the pulling, Hunter thought as he and Nova moved up to the base. Something that’ll bring this baby down right atop …

He paused. The crystal had grown. Where the night before it had merely been a single smoke of black upon the snow, rising up only to about the width of a single hoof, now he could quite clearly see its peak at eye level, the base almost as thick around as his own middle.

He and Nova glanced at one another. Big. Nova signed with his hooves and head.

Good? Hunter signaled back, tapping a hoof against the bark of the tree. Nova nodded and pointed with one foreleg before drawing a line in the snow. A line that led right to the crystal.

Good, Hunter thought with a nod, pointing to the trees across the clearing and then up at the peak of the pine. We’ll bring it down spot on!

Nova went to work with a nod of his own, quietly pulling his snowshoes off and using his hooves to batter at the bark. Hunter waited for a moment, ears swiveling, and then took wing, flying straight up the side of the pine.

Good tree, he thought as he rose into the sky, partially sheltered from the wind by its bulk. Nice and straight. Probably good wood for building. If it wasn’t in the middle of nowhere.

He slowed, weaving his way through branches as beside him the trunk grew thinner and thinner. He was getting close to the top now, more and more snowflakes swirling in the wake of each wingbeat.

That’s good enough, he thought, his eyes fixing on an icy-but-wide branch. It would give him something to brace against beside his wings while wrapping the rope around the trunk. Here goes.

It was delicate, almost frustrating work, alleviated only by the fact that he could wedge one part of the line into the gap between his armor and his undersuit whenever he needed both hooves free. Even so, progress was slow and tedious. The coil of rope on his back he left mostly strapped in, pulling out what he needed when he needed it, but getting the length around the trunk and tied took him longer than he expected. And more than once a gust of wind made one of his rear hooves slip from the trunk, causing him to lose his balance and drop what little progress he’d made. Finally, however, the rope was secure with a double loop and sturdy knot, and he backed away before carefully turning—Don’t catch the rope in your wing!—and flying across the clearing.

Or rather, around it. No way I’m flying over that spire, Hunter thought. Even this high up. Through the snow it looked like some sort of angry, dark spike, pulsing against the sky as if accusing it of some crime.

Or getting ready to strike at it. A shiver worked its way across his coat beneath his armor, and he scowled. Wonky emotion magic.

Clearing rounded, he could see Nova now at work at the trunk of the tree. The snow around him was dark with bits of removed bark, and the bare wood he’d uncovered stood out like a gaping wound. He was already at work attaching the cutcord Bolt had given him, carefully pressing the thin, incendiary wire into place.

Onya Nova, Hunter thought, eyes moving to the line at the trunk’s base and moving across the clearing, past the spire of crystal that was its target, and into the treeline on the far side. Let’s see … That one will do. He looped around the top of the tree, settling in the branches and giving the line a nice tug. It went tight with nothing between it and the knot on the other side of the clearing.

So I’ll drop off of these branches and get clear while the tree comes down. He unwound what was left of the coil, letting it dangle beneath him. Now it’s just down to Nova.

From the look of it, the unicorn was almost done. As Hunter watched, Nova moved around to the back of the trees, pulling more cutcord from his pouch before vanishing from sight.

Any minute now … He could already see it in his mind. The cutcord would shred the tree’s trunk, he would pull …

And with a lot of broken branches, Sombra’s refuge would end up in pieces. And then … We go on the hunt again.

Snow’s getting thicker, Hunter thought as he waited, watching the flakes dance through the air. That storm’s messed up everything for miles.

Snow meant less visibility. Avalanche risk as well. Just more things to watch out for.

Nova came back into view again and held up a hoof, tapping it against his chest. He was ready. Hunter repeated the gesture, wrapping the rope around both hooves, leaning out over the branch until he was putting his full weight on the line.

Okay, Nova, he thought, body hanging out over the air. Now just how long is it going to take to—?

The world lit up, a sudden, screeching hiss that sounded like ice skittering off a hot griddle filling the air. The rope in his hooves slipped, dropping him several feet before growing tight again. A sharp series of deep cracks split the air in the wake of the hiss, the line twitching with each one.

Howls erupted all around him, and he glanced down to see dozens of thick, furry arms burst through their protective domes, maddened yeti clawing their way to the surface in response to the intrusion.

That’s half of it, Nova, Hunter thought, twisting and craning his neck to look across the clearing. Now for the—

A second bright flash made him squint even as his visor tinted, turning his head, and again the same hot hiss echoed across the clearing. This time, however, the cracks came much more quickly and in greater volume … And then he was dropping, falling down through the air as the tree began to tip across the clearing, falling right toward the crystal spire amid howls of panic from the yeti.

Tim-ber! Hunter thought as he continued to drop in time with the tree. You’re gonna get it now, you dumb— The rope wrapped around his hooves bit tight, and in a flash, he recognized his mistake.

“Oh feathers.” The tree had passed the apex of its fall, the tip now well below the initial azimuth of where the guide rope had threaded around the treetops. He twisted his foreleg, flipping a coil of line past his hoof … And then with a jerk so hard he felt like his teeth had plunged into his stomach, his downward fall became an upward flight, the weight of the falling tree rocketing him skyward.

Instinct took over. He snapped his wings out, angling them to the side and throwing himself out and away from the tree the rope had looped around. If I hit that … As good as Bolt’s armor was, the rope would literally twist his foreleg between the might of two trees, grinding it around one as it pulled him down.

The shift in direction amplified his speed as he turned his straight-lined ascent into a sharp, outward swing with barely any control. Branches whipped across his body, needles and wood scraping across his body and drawing sharp, burning stings from his wings.

The tree hit the ground with a heavy whump that seemed to shake the forest around him, and the line went slack. He didn’t hesitate, twisting his foreleg and slipping it free of the once-tight coils. Even without the force of the rope yanking him skyward, he kept ascending, tucking his wings tightly against his sides as his momentum bled—

His backside slammed into a branch, flipping him end over end but thankfully killing most of his runaway upward momentum. Hunter kept his wings folded as he crashed through more branches, and then with a bone-jarring thud he slammed into another trunk and stopped, hanging for just long enough to get his bearings before dropping to thick pile of branches beneath it.

Ow. He shook his head, shoving away the sudden spinning sensation. I really hope no one saw that. Next time let go of the rope before you find out how much heavier a tree is.

He shook his head again, listening to the howls that echoed all around him. Nova! Did he get out? Did it work? He spread his wings—ignoring a twinge of pain from the feathers along his right wing; there’d be a time for preening later—and took to the sky, weaving through the treetops back toward the clearing.

Not that it was very clear anymore. The once-empty space was now home to the thick, scraggly branches of the tree, their forms pointing limply skyward as if decrying their sudden fate. The impact had kicked snow up in all directions, leaving a light, crystalline fog hanging over the ruin that sparkled gently in the sun.

Or at least, it would have appeared gentle if not for the murderous howls of the nearby yeti. Or the shattered wooden fragments scattered all around.

Or the putrid black fog pouring out of the broken bit of crystal right next to the tree’s trunk. Hunter stopped for a moment, his jaw gaping open as he noted the sharp gash across the fallen tree. That thing had to weigh at least several tons. All that weight came down on top—or at least alongside—that crystal, and it still took a good sized chunk out of it before it broke. That thing’s tough stuff!

But it had broken. No, it was breaking. He could see cracks spreading down its length, more smoke spilling out of each one with a low hiss. Then a sudden snap echoed across the clearing as the rest of the crystal came completely apart, and the black cloud surged upward, a deep rolling growl echoing across the clearing as—

Feathers! Hunter tucked his wings close with a forward kick, throwing himself back and into a roll as the roaring shadows rushed right at him, thick tendrils of smoke reaching out like claws. One speared the air where he’d just been, a growl of rage so deep it felt as though it was shaking his very armor following in its wake.

Go go go! He had no way of knowing if the dozens of tendrils sweeping toward him were capable of hurting him, but as many of them as there were …

He ducked under another outswept tendril, the blow silently sweeping over his head, then twisted, dodging a large branch and struggling for altitude. A quick juke to the side saw another miss, this one scything through a nearby branch—or rather not through. The smoke simply dissipated, breaking around the branch and reforming on the other side.

And with a short series of snaps, black crystal growths burst through the bark like dozens of teeth.

Okay, that’s terrifying. Two more tendrils rushed at him from opposite sides, sweeping through more branches with a chorus of pops, and he dropped. His hooves met a series of branches, and he kicked off of them, his wings half extended, snow showering behind him as he skipped from branch to branch to keep ahead. He was running half-blind now, unable to check behind him, but not really sure where he was going except—

Anywhere but here! A chunk of ice, hurled by an irate yeti, smashed through the branches ahead of him, scattering snow across his head and chest. No time to stop! Another missile shot by behind him, narrowly missing his tail as it shot into the sky. Come on!

He broke free of the thicker branches, wings going to their full extension once more, wind rushing over the feathers with a sensation that made him laugh despite the insanity around him. More chunk of ice were flying into the sky now, and he beat his wings hard, fighting for altitude as he spotted one of the yetis clawing its way up the trunk of a tree, trying to get at him. Its eyes were reddened and bloodshot.

Too late, you starkers monkey, Hunter thought as he climbed further upward, the branches thinning. The yeti made a mighty leap, howling as it clawed for him, only to miss by more than a dozen feet and crash through the treetops, screaming the whole way. You won’t catch me now. He broke through the treetops, panting under his helmet as the storm-fueled winds tore at his body. That smoke thing though …

He twisted his head, looking in every direction, surprise mounting as each glance showed nothing but empty skies and falling snow.

No, there! He could still see the smoky shade that was Sombra … but only in faint glimpses through the branches. It was speeding by below him, a dark mist streaking through the trees. And behind it, howling, angry yeti.

His slaves? Hunter wondered, twisting around and flying forward, still catching glimpses of the shadow as it moved east. Or—? One of the yeti hurled a chunk of ice at the shade.

Enemies. The shade slid to one side, dodging the ice and powering through the forest. Still going east. Hunter came to a stop in the air as he reached the edge of the trees. Sombra exploded out of them, the dark king’s shadowy essence spilling over the snow like oil.

It’s much bigger than it was last night, he thought as the black cloud streaked across the open snow, defying the winds that danced around it. The rampaging yeti stopped at the edge of the treeline, shaking claws and howling at the retreating specter. Whether or not they knew what it was, they seemed to realize it had been a threat. And up above …

The Hummingbird was already moving through the air, far above, its propellers roaring as it ploughed into the wind. Bolt was tracking the shade as it moved across the mountain face.

Not that it’d be easy to lose right now, Hunter thought, twisting around and letting the wind carry him back over the forest. Short of visibility issues with all this snow, a cloud of black that size is going to be pretty hard to miss.

Even better, they’d gotten some new information. He dodged that chunk of ice. He wouldn’t have bothered doing that if it couldn’t harm him in some way. Even annoy him. Maybe we can use that.

It was getting hard to breathe again. He brought a hoof up and rapped it against his muzzle without even looking, chunks of fresh ice breaking free and falling down through the branches. Air rushed into his waiting lungs, and he let out a quick sigh of relief as the faint sense of pressure vanished.

Going to have to keep an eye on that, he thought as he skirted the clearing. If that catches one of us at the wrong moment …

To the north, a flash of movement caught his eyes, and he turned to see a distant, purple figure waving one hoof at him from the side of the mountain. Hunter turned, angling toward him—or rather, at a point some distance ahead of him, since the wind was fighting every wingbeat.

“You got out,” Hunter called as he neared Nova. The unicorn was trudging through the steep snow almost sideways to keep his footing. “Any trouble?”

“Just some yeti,” Nova said, shrugging. “But I think they were more interested in the giant cloud of smoke coming out of that crystal. Was it just me, or was he bigger?”

“He’s definitely bigger,” Hunter said, grabbing his snowshoes from his pack and sliding them over his hooves. “Makes him easier to see, though. Bolt’s following him right now. Headed east.”

“Still east, huh?” Nova shook his head. “Is he lost? Or does he just know something we don’t?”

“Let’s hope it’s the former,” Hunter said, settling into the snow. His hooves sunk in a few inches before stopping. “Anyway, we’d better get after them while we can still see The Hummingbird.”

Nova nodded and began moving forward. “Wish I knew how to ski.”

“Yeah. That’d be helpful right now.”

“We could use a sled.”

“And have me pull you uphill?” Hunter shook his head. “I’d say yes if it weren’t for this wind. Something to think about for future ops, unless …” He paused. “Can you block the wind with your magic?”

“I’d burn a lot of it. Reaction and effect.”

“Right. Not a good idea.” Hunter sighed, and then pointed at The Hummingbird. “Well then … let’s get moving. We’ve got ground to cover.”

He tucked his wings to his sides and began to run.

Chapter 22

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With a wordless shout, Sabra sat up, his heart pounding, his breath coming in short, jerky gasps. For a moment everything was unfamiliar: The dark shapes scattered around him, the dull, red light coming from beneath a nearby door. The cot he was lying on.

The waking world caught up with him, and his rapid, jerky breaths slowed. The Crystal Empire. The Order station. The one he’d cleared with the torture cells. They were using it as a temporary rest location.

I … His hooves were still shaking. He couldn’t remember why, but he could still feel a faint coldness in his chest, like a snake had tightened its coils around his heart. He held his breath for a few moments, counting backwards and then letting out a long, slow exhale. What was that?

The answer came almost immediately. Jinamizi. A nightmare. And from the way his body was still shaking, a very bad one.

He let out another long, shaky breath and ran a hoof through his mane. His eyes had mostly adjusted to the dim lighting now, the dark, scattered shapes now recognizable as crystal ponies slumped over cots, furniture, and scattered across the floor. The team had offered to let all of them take the cots, but the crystal ponies had insisted that their saviors take the closest things to a bed that there were, refusing to take no for an answer.

Which, Sabra noted, limbs still shaking, had left one of the cots empty. Dawn was slumped over the nearby aid station she’d set up, still fully clad in her armor. As was Steel. Only Sabra had bothered to take off his helmet.

His ears twitched as someone else let out a whimper of fear, and he frowned. Now that he was waking up, he could hear more signs of distress coming from the scattered refugees. Some of them were even twitching in their sleep, their bodies making slight movements from side to side.

“Nightmares.”

The voice made him jerk in surprise, and he twisted to see a young colt shying away from his sudden movement, stumbling back toward the more well-lit front office.

“My apologies,” Sabra said quietly, lowering his hooves as a twinge of shame cut through him. “I was—”

“It is fine,” the colt said, shaking his head. “You did not know.”

Sabra eyed the colt. He was young, caught in that gangly phase between being a youth and a full-grown stallion. One of the prisoners from the cells he’d liberated the night before.

“You’re not asleep?” he asked, shifting so that he was looking at the youth head-on. “Why?”

“Same reason as you,” the colt said. There were bags under his eyes, and his face looked hollow. Whether it was from lack of sleep, or lack of food, Sabra couldn’t say. “I have always been a light sleeper. The nightmares … They make it worse. Most of us have gotten used to them, but …” He shrugged. “That does not make them go away.”

Sabra opened his mouth but then paused, There was something to the way the colt had spoken about their dreams that wasn’t normal. “You mean …?” he asked after a moment. “These nightmares. They come every night?”

The colt nodded. “The Order makes it happen. Some spell. They say it is to remind us of the horrors of the world outside Sombra’s rule, but …” He let out a small shiver. “It is just to remind who is in control. To keep us scared.”

Sabra gaped for a moment, his mouth opening and closing quietly as he struggled to find words. I … Everything the colt had just said felt like a violation of everything he knew. Princess Luna, of course, watched the dreams of her subjects, but only at a distance, and to aid and guide those under her care if intervention was required. Forcing nightmares on an entire city …

“They are monsters,” the colt said, sinking back on his haunches. “All of them. The unicorns.” His last words snapped across Sabra’s consciousness.

“They are not.” He’d spoken without even meaning to, and he saw the colt’s tired eyes widen in surprise.

“What do you—?”

“The Order are the monsters,” Sabra said, cutting the youth off. “Not unicorns. Sergeant Triage is a unicorn,” he said, pointing in the direction of the sleeping medic. “And a friend. She aids all of you. Nova Beam, another member of our team, is another. They use their magic to help and aid you, not to harm.”

“But—”

“My team has already found and fought crystal ponies that aid the Order,” Sabra continued. “Would you say that all crystal ponies are monsters, as well?”

“I—” The colt worked his jaw for a moment. “No, but—”

“But what?”

“But they’re just crystal ponies.”

“And unicorns are just unicorns,” Sabra said, shaking his head. His breathing felt almost in control again, and the cold, clammy feeling around his insides had mostly faded. “The Order is what makes those ponies who they are. And their choices. Not being born with a horn.”

“But—”

Sabra leaned forward. “Tell me. Do you fear me because I am a zebra?”

“I … No, but—”

“What?”

“Unicorns—” The colt cut himself off as his voice rose, looking around the rest of the room. “King Sombra is a unicorn. So are the rest of the Order. Unicorns did this.”

“The Order did this, unless those crystal ponies that joined their ranks are suddenly unicorns.” Sabra shook his head. “You’re young, but—”

“So are you.”

Sabra fixed him with what he hoped was a good approximation of one of Steel’s stern stares. It must have been close, because the colt gulped and shrank back.

“I am a Dusk Guard,” Sabra said. Then he let his voice soften. “Which means I serve Equestria, a nation founded on unification between pony tribes. There are bad unicorns, yes. There are bad earth ponies, pegasi, and even crystal ponies as well. And when many of them group together, they can achieve bad things. But do not,” he said, looking the colt in the eyes. “Do not make the mistake that simply because some are bad, all of them are. The Order have done horrible things to you and to this entire city. But while they may be unicorns, they do not represent all unicorns. No more than you are represented by any of the collaborators we’ve found so far.”

“Don’t make the same mistake they do,” Sabra said after a moment, his voice quieter. “The Order sets themselves above everypony else. If you start believing that all unicorns behave as they do, you’re falling into the same trap that gave rise to them.”

“I …” The colt swallowed. “I am sorry.”

“Good.” Apparently something about what he’d said shocked the colt, because they looked up in surprise. “Humbly admitting one’s own mistakes is the first step on the path forward. In the days ahead, you will likely see many unicorns in your city, and few of them will be from the Order. The Equestrian Royal Guard have unicorns in their ranks, as well as earth ponies and pegasi. They will be helping rebuild, helping to imprison the Order.”

The colt looked down and then away. “I … I don’t know.”

Sabra frowned. “Have you ever met a unicorn that wasn’t a member of the Order?” The colt shook his head, still looking away.

“I see.” And you’re probably the first zebra he’s ever met then too. The world was a smaller place a thousand years ago. “I’m sorry.”

“What?” The colt looked up at him in shock, eyes wide. “For what?”

“You’ve had so much stolen from you by the Order,” Sabra said quietly. “Equestrian is not my native language, so if … If my words sounded condescending, that is not what I meant. But there are good unicorns out there. I promise you.” He gave the colt a small smile. “Unicorns who will … Well, they won’t treat you with nothing but kindness, but they’ll try. They’re ponies like anypony else.”

“You said that before.”

“Because it’s true.” He took a deep breath, wincing slightly as somepony nearby let out a cry in their sleep. “Just … don’t hate all of them because of the actions of a few, as deplorable as those few are. Please.”

“I … I will try.” The colt scuffed one hoof against the floor, eyes down.

“That’s all we can do sometimes,” Sabra said. He tried searching his mind for other words, but his brain felt as empty as his chest. “Are you going to stay awake?”

“No,” the colt said with a shake of his head. “I should try and sleep. The nightmares might come back, but—”

“Here.” Sabra held out his helmet, and the colt’s eyes went wide.

“What?”

“The helmet repels magic. Like all of our armor. If you wear it, it might help you sleep. Keep the nightmare magic out of your head.”

“It will?” the colt asked, gingerly taking the helmet in his hooves.

“Well, my team members seem to be sleeping well. I am the only one that has awoken, and I was not wearing it.”

“But … won’t you need it?” the colt asked, looking up at him.

“I will,” Sabra said. “But not right now. We’ll be up—” he glanced around the room for a clock and saw none, “—soon, but until then, you can sleep with it. Just don’t strap it down over your head, and I’ll get it when I need it.”

“...” The colt looked down at the helmet and then up at him with an unreadable expression. “Thank you.”

“Get some rest. You’ll need it in the days ahead.”

The colt nodded and turned, beginning to trot away. Suddenly, however, he stopped. “Are you going to get the Crystal Heart back?”

“The what?”

The colt slumped slightly. “Nothing.”

“I don’t know what a ‘crystal heart’ is,” Sabra said. “But we’re only the first to be here. The Guard is coming after we’ve secured the city, as well as Princess Cadence. And the Element Bearers after that.”

“Element bearers?”

“Of the Elements of Harmony. Have you heard of them?”

“Only from stories. Weren’t they what were used to beat the mad immortal? Discord?”

“And trap Nightmare Moon in the moon,” Sabra said, only for the colt to give him a confused look. Of course. That happened after the empire was sealed. “Sorry. That was after your city disappeared. But the Element Bearers have faced down great terrors before and defeated them. If the empire needs this ‘crystal heart,’ then maybe that’s why they’re coming. To find it.”

The colt nodded but said nothing, staring down at the helmet. The moment stretched on, the silence between them growing like a vast gulf until the colt bridged it.

“Is it really true, then?” he asked, looking up at Sabra at last. “Were we really gone for a thousand years? Just … gone?”

Sabra nodded. “You were. My team and I spent all week flying over this plain. Your city was not here until just a day ago.”

“Oh.” The colt looked back down at the helmet in his hooves. “I had a friend, before … it happened. They lived outside the city. I did not know what happened to them after the sky changed. I do not … I do …” The helmet dropped to the ground with a light thunk as the colt began to cry, cupping his hooves up against his face. “They would have been outside the barrier. Away from everypony. If we were gone a thousand years …”

Sabra slid off of the cot and wrapped his hooves around the sobbing colt, pulling him into his shoulder. He opened his mouth, trying to think of something he could say, but nothing came. Because there wasn’t anything he could say. How could he say anything? They were coming to grips that the world they had known their entire life was gone.

There was nothing he could say that would help. All he could do was let the poor colt cry until his tears had dried out.

* * *

Eventually, the colt fell asleep, and Sabra lowered his body to the floor before setting the helmet gently over his head. He wasn’t certain it would work without the rest of the armor, but—

All the same, it cannot hurt. Helmet in place, he let out a yawn and then trotted into the front office, checking for timepieces. None of them would be very accurate, but at the same time …

Drat. The captain would be awaking before long. Or at least he would if the clocks he was seeing were somewhat accurate. Which meant that there wouldn’t be much to be gained from going back to sleep. The hours I got will have to be enough. Captain Song would want to move quickly to take advantage of their actions the night before, and to put an end to the Order as quickly as possible.

Which means we will move on the tower. Their attacks the night before had done their job, freeing up the rest of the city as every Order element had pulled back to the city center and leaving the streets open for the crystal ponies to move out and take care of one another.

Or, at least, until the voice of the regent in the tower had declared an enforced curfew. Which they had then acted upon by firing some sort of beam at anypony they spotted in the city streets, right from the tower’s peak. After several such shots across the city, silence had reigned.

And fires had burned, unchecked. How the crystal burned he couldn’t say, but they had taken several hours to go out.

The captain had seethed with them.

Sabra eased into one of the chairs in the front of the building, trying not to think about who had used it last or for what purpose. Breathe in, then out. Slowly but surely, the outside world, with its sounds and sights, began to slip away. In … and out.

It was hard to even find the lake this time. Not that its boiling waters weren’t easy to identify. But the outside world called for his attention, his bruises and aches slipping to the forefront as he sank further into his mind and competing for his attention.

Focus. Slowly but surely, the outside world shrank away, fading to a dull echo at the edges of his mind. And the lake …

He let out a sigh as he watched the currents swirl. Everything was churning in a giant rush, spiraling around as though massive paddles were stirring the waters of his mind below the surface. The question, his answer, his life in Canterlot …

All of it tangled up in this mission and—

The waters surged, and he let out a silent sigh. And things are only getting more chaotic. He needed time to digest. Time to let things calm. Time for his mind to make sense of everything that had gone on.

And I won’t find that here. Not today. Not without far more time than I have. Still, it was good to see that only a small bit of the restless nature of the waters seemed to be coming from the events of the last day—

The waters surged, violently, almost pushing him back. Not as calm as I thought, then. He could feel the walls now. Metaphorical ones, put in place to keep the events of the prior day … contained.

The walls will have to come down eventually. But not yet. Not until he could deal with everything that had happened in a controlled space. With Sky. The waters surged again. Talk it over.

Later. The waters calmed again, but only as far as they were already thrashing. Hopefully they wouldn’t get much worse.

So many pieces, all connected. He took a deep breath, coming back to the real world with a sudden rush, like he’d poured ice-cold water over himself.

“Welcome back, spec.” Captain Song was standing at a nearby desk, eyes on a spread of paper. How long had he been gone? His eyes darted to the clock.

Twenty minutes. It hadn’t felt like it’d been more than a minute.

“How are you feeling this morning? Well-rested?”

Sabra took a breath before replying. “I am well enough.”

“Good.” Steel still hadn’t looked up from the papers he was examining. “Enough for a heavy fight?”

“Yes sir.” He nodded, climbing to his hooves and coming to attention. “Is the sergeant awake?”

“Dawn? No,” Steel said with a shake of his head. “She needs all the rest she can get. I wouldn’t have woken you, either, but I didn’t have to. Difficulty sleeping?” The captain’s words came out like a question, but as he turned away from the desk at last, eyes locking with Sabra’s, it was clear that it was more a statement than anything else.

“Yes sir,” he replied. There was no sense in hiding it. “Bad dreams. I removed my helmet.”

That note seemed to give the captain pause. “What does that have to do with it?”

He doesn’t know, Sabra realized. None of us did. “I talked with one of the crystal ponies after I woke up,” he said. “The Order uses their magic to inflict nightmares on the entire populace every night.” Steel’s eyes widened with disgust. “I believe our helmets may have blocked it, but since I took mine off …”

“And then you gave it to the colt for the rest of the night,” Steel said, nodding in the direction of the room with the cots. “I saw that.” He shook his head. “How long ago was this?”

“No more than …” Sabra let his eyes dart to the clock once more. “Twenty minutes less an hour, captain.”

“And you gave it to him shortly after you woke up?”

“Ndiya.”

“Good. That’s more than six hours still.” The captain shook his head. “If you feel like you need more sleep, however, you’ve got about another fifteen, twenty minutes.”

“No, thank you. I would prefer to remain awake.”

“Pretty bad dreams?”

Sabra opened his mouth but then closed it before formulating a reply. “In honesty, captain, I don’t remember.”

Steel nodded. “If it helps, you probably would have had them with or without the helmet, Sabra.” He turned back to the papers. “The Order is doing some truly awful things, and you’re experiencing combat for the first time.”

“My … reaction … doesn’t worry you?”

“No,” Steel said, shaking his head. “In fact, I’d be worried if you hadn’t reacted. I did the same thing when I was your age—well, a little older—and saw my first combat. By the end of it, I was a shaky mess. But …”

“But what?”

“I still got up the next morning, Sabra. I got up and I put on my armor and I went back out. Sure, I felt a little confused. Chaotic even. But even in the middle of all that … I knew right from wrong. And I knew I could help stop something that was wrong.”

He looked up then, his eyes meeting Sabra’s, and he smiled. “I guess in a way it’s the same reason you gave that colt your helmet even though you knew if you went back to sleep, the nightmares would be right back thanks to that spell. You would rather that young colt didn’t go through them, and you’d suffer them instead.”

“I had to think about a lot of things when I built this team,” Steel said with a touch of pride. “But one of the constants through all of you is that you know when you’re doing the right thing, and you stick to it. You don’t ignore the hardship; all of you are wise enough to see it for what it is. But you work through it. And spending the last few months training with all of you has only cemented my faith in each and every one of you. That’s why Sky Bolt didn’t opt out when she started having those nightmares. She had to come around to it, but she chose to work through it.”

“So, you’re shaky. Last night was … rough. I understand, Sabra.” The captain still hadn’t broken eye contact, and as he spoke, Sabra could see a weight behind his eyes, a sudden glimpse of how much the captain had been through. “We all have a hurdle we have to pass. But you still got up. You still gave that colt your helmet. After this mission is over, if you want to sit down with someone and talk things out …” He shrugged. “We can do that. In fact, I’d advise it. Not just in an after-action report, but without the armor, without the trappings of rank …” He shrugged again. “We can do that.”

“But …” he said, turning, breaking eye contact at last. “You having had bad dreams after yesterday doesn’t surprise me in the least. Even if there wasn’t some crazy militant group trying to mess with everypony’s heads, you still were plunged headfirst into a fight—a real fight—against horrible ponies doing terrible things. After that? A few bad dreams are right in line for normal.”

“But you still gave that kid your helmet,” he added. “And are you ready to go take down the ponies in that central tower?”

“Absolutely, captain.” He felt chest swell a bit as he said it. “Nopony deserves to have bad dreams every night.” He watched as the captain turned his attention back down to the desk. “May I ask what you’re looking at, captain?”

“Blueprints,” Steel replied without looking up. “Well, at least, what pass for blueprints. I suppose it’d be more accurate to say that it’s a map. A detailed one, but a map all the same. Not an original either,” he said, flipping up a corner so that Sabra could see the scrawled ink. “Done from memory, trial-and-error, and a dozen different hooves over the last few years.”

“A map? Of what?” Sabra stepped forward, peering down at the collection of papers, eyes following the lines as they branched across it. There was a geometric familiarity to it he recognized. A snowflake, he thought, recalling the frozen structures he’d seen sketches of in his youth. But with too many arms. The same number of arms, in fact, as the city held, though spread across several different pieces of paper.

“Figure it out yet?” Steel asked, and Sabra shook his head.

“It’s something to do with the city,” he admitted. “But it cannot be the roads.” There were markings scattered across the sketches, small notes and symbols that he couldn’t make sense of. Coded, in all likelihood, and something put together by the citizens of the empire, but what?

“It’s a map of the sewer system,” Steel said, nodding, and suddenly the strange lines and familiarity clicked into place.

Of course. He could see it now that Steel had spoken. And the symbols and markings … Dangers, perhaps. Or warnings.

“As to why I have it,” Steel said. “That’s how I plan on getting us inside the central tower without just walking up.” He reached out and tapped the center of the map, where a number of the lines—Pipes or causeways, most likely—intersected one another. “Garnet was able to get in touch with some runners, folks who moved contraband around during the occupation through the sewer systems, and get their maps for me. They stayed clear of the central tower, but from what he told me, the Order didn’t care much about them or think of them as a threat. And with that tower giving them such a high-ground advantage, I’m hoping we can just walk in past whatever light security they have.”

“The only trick is deciphering a path there,” he continued, tapping the papers with a hoof. “A lot of these maps were patched together from various ‘runners,’ which means they’re full of notes and symbols that only made sense to the owner. Here, for example,” he said, pulling two pieces apart and showing that they overlapped. “This map shows that these two tunnels don’t connect, but on this map—” he slid the other back into place, “—they do. Which one is right? And here.” He reached out and tapped another segment of the map. “There’s a marking at this intersection. Does it mean that it isn’t an intersection, but the connections overlap at different elevations?” He shook his head. “Without any way to know, the best I can do is map a couple of different routes to where we want to go, and hope for the best.”

“And,” he added quickly, tapping the center of the map. “The area around the tower itself isn’t quite as heavily mapped as other areas. Garnet assured me that it wasn’t monitored, but I guess ponies didn’t like getting close to it for obvious reasons anyway. But that means once we get there, we’re going to spend some time figuring out a way up into the structure.”

“What if there isn’t one?”

Steel shook his head. “I asked. The central palace has waterworks like everything else. The city is actually pretty advanced for its time, all things considered. But they weren’t foolish; the ponies that built these tunnels made sure to leave everything a maintenance access. The central tower gets its water in and wastes out just like everywhere else in the city, which means there’s a pipe, or more likely, a conveyance of some sort using magic or machinery to bring things in and out. And moving parts—”

“Means something that can break,” Sabra finished, nodding. Sky dealt with the logic all the time. Anything that moved or functioned in some way had to have an access. “So there must be a way up into the tower.”

“Or something that gets us close enough that we can ‘cheat’ and get the rest of the way in.” Steel said, his eyes tracing over the lines. “And that includes taking down a wall or two, provided they aren’t load-bearing.”

“Then what?” Sabra asked, peering over the collection of pieced maps and tracing a path of his own. It terminated long before their destination, but there did seem to be a pattern to things.

“I have a few ideas,” Steel said. “I’ve already talked with Dawn about some of them. If we can get in the right position, we can gas them.”

“Gas them?”

The captain nodded. “We’ve forced them to pull back all of their remaining forces into a small position. Dawn has a few sedatives that can be diffused into the air. Enough to knock them out, or at least make them groggy and easy to deal with. Quietly, hopefully. We’ve got no information on the inside of the palace, though, so it’s all blind planning. But …” The captain shook his head and stepped back. “That’s the kind of challenge we excel at. After all,” he said, giving Sabra a grin. “I couldn’t have told a Royal Guard to clear two outposts without getting caught, each staffed by an unknown number of enemy combatants, and expected them to come out on top. This kind of job is our speciality.”

He took another step back. “In any case, we’ll want to move soon. I don’t know how long it’s going to take us to get through the sewer, but we’d best get to one of the closest entryways before it’s light enough for anypony to spot us. You should eat something and get your helmet back. I’ll go wake Dawn.”

Sabra nodded as the captain walked out of the room. “Yes sir.” Eating would be good. It would give him something else to occupy his mind with. Outside of crawling through a sewer to try and reach the tower. It was a good plan, provided they didn’t get lost and there wasn’t some creature living in the city’s sewer. Back home, there had always been stories in the larger cities of such things. Sobeks, giant snakes, and other creatures that lived in the ancient sewer systems.

Worse, sometimes they were true. Enclosed spaces full of water that creatures need to live. And cooled away from the sun. Even the cistern at the monastery had run afoul of creatures trying to claim it as their home, though thankfully nothing incredibly dangerous or large.

So what could lurk under this city? He stared down at the map, eyeing some of the symbols that looked like warnings. What sort of creatures would want to call these sewers home?

Then again, if there were creatures living in the sewers, the cartographers who’d penned the maps likely would have told tales of it. And Garnet would have repeated those same tales to Steel.

Meaning that you are likely worrying over nothing, he thought, sitting down and reaching into his saddlebags for a granola bar. The faint crunch of each bite filled the office as he waited, like somepony walking over rough gravel. A few moments later voices mixed in with it, Steel talking to Dawn in the back room.

He stared down at the map while they talked, thinking back to the cistern and sewer systems at the monastery. They had to be different—for starters the city was much more massive than his monastery had been—but similarities were bound to exist.

Such as small spaces, he thought, mind going back to how he’d been forced to squeeze his body into narrow, damp, and often slick passageways to reach something that had plugged the ancient waterways. And wetness.

Worse, at least in the Plainslands the climate had been warm and dry, so that cool and damp as the cisterns could be, one warmed once they left. Here, we will be below ground in a frozen city. A shiver ran down his back. If we get wet, we will stay wet for quite some time.

Heat modification, he thought, finished the bar and reaching for another. Unless … He paused for a moment. A sudden burst of strength would be useful, especially if he happened to get stuck. Which meant … Given that any event where I would need the strength mod likely wouldn’t give me the opportunity to change to it, I’ll have to wear it.

“Good morning, Sabra.” Dawn stepped into the room with a gentle grace, stifling a yawn behind one hoof even though she was wearing her helmet still. “Did you rest well?”

“No,” he said. “But I rested enough. Did you?”

“Barely,” Dawn said, hiding another yawn. “Captain Song has expressed to me that we’re going to be crawling through a sewer before long, so what rest I received will need to be sufficient. He said you were experiencing the effects of emotional magic?”

“What?” It took him a moment to connect her words with the meaning. “The nightmares. Yes. Everyone in the city did, according to—”

“Yes, so he said,” Dawn said, cutting him off as her horn began to glow, a matching one appearing around his forehead. Something about it made his skin itch.

“And there we go,” she said, her horn glowing brighter for a moment. “Same as the others, but weaker. No doubt because it was tuned for a crystal pony.”

“What?” The glow faded.

“The spell. It was designed to be self-repeating. There were traces of it across your mind. Nothing serious. Just raw, emotional magic. I couldn’t say more without a full examination, but from what I saw here and in there—” She nodded her head toward the back room. “I believe it was designed to amplify fear and feed off of innately generated internal magic. Granting nightmares at night, and then keeping that sense of uneasiness through the ponies for some time. Likely so that the casters didn’t have to cast it each night.” She reached up and pulled her helmet off, disgust written across her face. “Twisted and effective, as well as likely why so many of the ponies here seem so depressed.” She let out a sigh. “On another note, a night of rest appears to have done you good. You’re not in perfect condition, but the swelling is gone.”

He nodded. “Asante. That is good to hear.” He paused. “But that spell … wouldn’t it affect the Order as well?”

“Likely not,” Dawn replied. “The Order could have tuned it to specific parameters. Or worn something that countered the spell, like our own helmets.” She rapped her own with a hoof before floating it over to the table. “In any case, if I were you, I would prepare to depart; Steel doesn’t wish to remain here for long.”

“Of course.” He bowed his head in respect and then turned, heading through the back door and into the sleeping area once more. The colt who had cried himself to sleep was still lying on the floor, Sabra’s helmet oversized on his head.

“Pumzika vizuri,” he said, gently retrieving the helmet and sliding it into place. It felt … better to have the helmet on. Like the armor was complete. Sure, it was cracked and scuffed—particularly after the battles of the day before—but it was his.

“Ready?” Captain Song asked as he walked past, munching on one of the ration bars. Sabra wasn’t sure how the captain stomached the taste.

“Ndiyo,”he said, following him back to the front room. Dawn was standing in front of the table, her horn lit and glowing brightly as she cast … something, he wasn’t sure what, on the maps Steel had been looking at. That was, until an ink vial floated into the air, thin black strands sliding out of it and laying themselves down on a new, empty sheet of paper in neat, straight lines.

“Give me a moment, captain,” she said, her voice quiet. “Or rather, several. I must remind you that this spell is not designed for such work.”

“It’ll have to do,” Steel said, stopping a foot or so from the table and watching as the map began to take shape. “Just do your best.”

“It’d be easier without you talking.”

“Sorry.” Before them, the ink shimmered as it floated through the air, laying itself down in lines and clumps atop the once-blank sheet. Slowly but surely, each line was copied down.

Including ones that overlapped with one another, Sabra noted, leaving larger smears or bubbles of ink on the page. She did say that whatever spell she was using wasn’t made for this, he thought as Dawn continued to work. We’ll have to dab up the overlaps. Steel seemed to be thinking the same thing, stepping forward and grabbing a tool—was it called a blotter?—from a nearby desk, moving to—

“Don’t,” Dawn said, strain in her voice. “Not until it’s done.” Steel nodded and back up.

The ink continued to lay itself down, mapping out the entire sewer system. Finally, with a gasp of relief from Dawn, the last line went into place, and the orange glow winked out.

“Now,” she said, and Steel moved forward. “Before it spreads.” The blotter came down quickly, but even as the captain pulled it back, Sabra could see the smudges on the paper where the ink had begun to smear.

So could the captain. “Horseapples,” he said, scowling. “It’ll have to do. I guess it wasn’t like those spots weren’t going to be a messy tangle anyway.” He dabbed at the paper a few more times, getting what spare ink he could, and then stepped back. “Fine job anyway, sergeant. It’s not your fault.”

“Thank you, captain. But I didn’t say it was.”

“Well,” Steel said, setting the blotter to one side and blowing on the map. “All the same, nice job.”

Sabra stepped forward, nodding as his eyes traced the collection of old maps and compared it to the new, singular sheet. It hadn’t been a perfect copy—he could see a few “breaks” in the lines where one page had ended with another beginning and lines hadn’t copied cleanly—but even then Dawn’s work was clearly a replica of the collection of maps they’d had earlier. Even if some of the lines were thicker or smudged.

“We are …” He paused for a moment, running his eyes over the sweeping lines. “Here?” he finished, holding a hoof above the page.

“That’s an area of a couple of blocks,” Steel replied. “But no.” He picked up a quill from the desk and pointed to a small line a few inches from the tip of Sabra’s hoof. “If I’m reading this right, we’re here. Which means a close potential entrance point is …” He moved the tip of the quill several inches to the side, where a small symbol had been sketched next to one of the lines. “Here. North of us. Except …” The captain’s voice trailed off as he checked one of the original maps. “Right, that’s what I was afraid of.”

“What?” Dawn asked, cocking one eyebrow as she looked at the captain.

“Well, each runner’s map was different,” Steel replied. “And some of them were a bit more mindful of ‘operational security’ than others. This one—” He tapped the map in question with his hoof. “Garnet warned me that not all the symbols were accurate.”

“Misdirection,” Sabra said, nodding. “If they had been captured, the Order wouldn’t have been able to reliably use the map.”

“Not quickly,” Steel said. “So unfortunately, that entrance, if it does exist, is somewhere in a several block radius. We’ll have to look for it. Again, if it even exists.”

“Then we’d best get moving before the sun rises.” Dawn shook her head, and the new map she’d created floated up in an orange glow. “I do not wish to be the cause of more peril upon these ponies.”

“Agreed,” Steel said as Sabra nodded. “Can you handle the map?” Dawn nodded, her magic already folding the paper into small sheets, and the captain looked to the front door.

“All right. Then we’re moving out in ten minutes. Use the bathroom, finish your breakfast, make a last-minute check of a patient. Whatever you need to do. Then we move north, track this entrance down. Or find another if we have to. Dawn?”

“Yes sir?”

“You’re the cartographer. If we can’t find that entrance, I want secondary options.”

“Understood.”

“Ten minutes, ponies. Move.”

Sabra snapped a salute, and moved out of the room. Ten minutes to freshen up, fill his stomach, and check over his equipment.

Then we move on the tower. A faint shiver ran down his back, matched only by a sudden flame in his chest as his eyes moved over the still-sleeping colt lying on the floor.

And put an end to their bad dreams for good.

* * *

“Right,” Steel said, his whispered voice echoing up and down the dark, empty streets. “Fan out. Find that entrance.”

Sabra nodded rather than speak, waiting until the captain and Dawn had already begun to turn in their chosen directions to move out on his own, eyes low and alert in a direction they hadn’t moved. He moved slowly, scanning the street for anything that could be an entrance to the sewers beneath their hooves.

Not that it was easy. The sky was still dark, almost black under the faint shimmer of the weather shield. The sun was likely rising, or perhaps had even risen already, but it was impossible to tell as of yet thanks to the fury of the storm above the city. Every so often a bolt of jagged lightning would carve its way across the sky, providing a faint glimmer of illumination that refracted off the crystal streets and carved strange, jagged shadows.

Sabra moved down the street carefully, peering at the buildings and fencing around him, ears twisting as he extended his senses to their fullest. Water, he thought, pausing for a moment to eye a an unfamiliar structure across a fence. Running water. Or echoes. Those had been the marks of the sewers and cisterns back in the Plainslands. While it would be foolish to expect the Crystal Empire’s system to be identical, some of the same similarities had to exist.

Correct? He frowned. I wish Sky was here. She would know. Or she would know enough about the differences to tell them what they should look for. Or even just where to dig straight down, he thought as he passed another low wall, peering over it to look for anything that could be an entrance down to the underside of the city.

So much of what was around them was unfamiliar. Many of the buildings were open air, or built with only a few walls. They were likely workshops of some kind, but of what he couldn’t say.

It didn’t help that many of them were dark, their interiors hidden in shadow by the low light. Their purpose was clearly industrial, but past that …?

He slowed, glancing back at the intersection they had fanned out from. Nothing. Dawn was still making her way down the other end of the street, her figure little more than a faint shadow against the streets. Steel was nowhere in sight.

He brought his gaze back forward, resuming his slow but steady pace. Ahead of him, the lighting on the side of the road changed slightly, the shadows turning to faint slits, and he slowed. It was a grating. He came to a full stop, glancing back the way he’d come.

Curious. He couldn’t recall seeing any other grates along the street. This was the first and only one he had seen thus far. They must not receive much rain, to have so few, he thought, crouching by it and giving it a closer look. Otherwise, they would flood.

Furthermore, the opening was small, far smaller than the grates he could recall seeing in Canterlot. Even if the bars in it were loose—and they were not, he concluded after a quick poke with a hoof—he’d have been hard pressed to get more than his head through the resulting opening.

On the other hoof, however, he could feel a faint breeze tease across his muzzle. There was a current. Which meant open space. He closed his eyes, shutting out his sight, his ears twitching, and brought his armored hoof down on one of the bars in a sharp, quick strike.

An echoing tone rang out as the bar shook, a clear ring that echoed down the street … and down through the sewers, shifting and changing in pitch as the sound reverberated through the openings below him.

And there were openings beneath him. He could hear it in the way the ringing echo shifted. Beneath him lay a decently large space, stretching both forward and backward down the street. But there was something else too, something that was … off. He couldn’t quite put his hoof on it. His ears twisted, and he cocked his head to the side, bringing one ear as close to the grate as he dared.

Something about the echo had been off. Not by much, and he still couldn’t say what. But something had been … false. Muted.

He brought his hoof down again with the same force. Again the ring rang out, low and sharp, echoing through the quiet buildings around him … but more importantly, down the sewer once more.

There! His ear twitched as he caught the rebounding, softer echo, and the faint resonance that followed it.

A sharp double-rap against the street made him pull away, and he looked up to see Steel standing at the intersection, signaling with one hoof. Found?

He paused for a moment, running the signals through his mind before fixing on the right one. Unknown. Though that wasn’t quite what the sign meant. It was somewhere between I don’t know what this is and Situation developing, be alert for further developments. It would have to do. He lowered his head to the grate again, ear flicking at the air once more.

This time he chose a different place to strike with his hoof, closer to the edge of the grate. The sound his strike elicited was different, lower and duller. He waited patiently, ears tracing the echoes as the sound bounced around the sewers beneath him.

Interesting. The duller sound came back with a few differences. As soon as the sound had faded, he moved his hoof again, this time making a sharper, more crisp sound with his strike.

Most interesting. Again the echo coming from ahead of him was different. An opening, he thought, rising and taking several steps forward. This way. He measured each step carefully, eyes barely looking, the picture in his mind the sounds had painted far more important than what he could see. Right about there, he thought, coming to a stop. And heading … He turned to his right. To that.

It was another workshop, though unlike the others it was far less open-aired, with only one wall left absent from the whole of the structure. And even that had some sort of cloth draped over it.

Hmmm … He stepped off of the road and up to the low fence around the building. A sign by the gate was difficult to read in the low light, but a flash of lightning gave him enough to make out the basics. Stonecutting? He frowned at the front of the stop. Why would stonecutters need so many walls?

It certainly wasn’t to keep out the cold. He glanced at the lock on the gate for a moment, then hopped over the low fence and began making his way up the walkway, eyeing the odd building. And why would the opening lead here?

He paused halfway up the walkway and repeated the same signal to Steel. Who, he noted, had now been joined by Dawn. The captain shrugged and then signaled back. Moving to you.

Very well. They hadn’t found anything then. He turned his attention back to the cloth across the front of the structure and walked up to it.

Oiled. The pungent aroma caught at his nose. Why would it be oiled? Oiled cloth had been used in old times as waterproofing, but why did the building need that? Smooth stones had been sewn into the bottom of the cloth, weighing it down. He listened for a moment, ears twisting, but the only sounds he heard were that of Steel and Dawn coming down the street behind him.

With a simple flourish, he drew back one corner of the cloth, exposing a darkened interior that was almost pitch black. Shame I lack one of the new helmets, he thought, taking a few steps inside. Another faint flash lit the sky like a dull beacon, and he had a momentary sight of what looked faintly like a mason’s workshop … though there was something odd about it. There were tools, benches and worked stone … but also large hoses against the back wall.

The scene faded, and he turned as hoofsteps announced the arrival of Steel and Dawn. “Find anything, spec?” Steel asked quietly as he trotted up.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, shaking his head. “There is a shaft forking from the sewer beneath us that leads to this building, but …” He stepped past the opening, darkness sweeping over him. “I can’t say why?”

“One moment,” Steel said. Both he and Dawn stepped in, and then he let the cloth fall shut behind them. Dawn’s horn lit a moment later, a soft, white glow filling the room.

“Oh,” Steel said as the glow illuminated a series of hoses on the back wall. “Those look like Sky Bolt’s pneumatics.”

“How would that help stonecutting?” Dawn asked.

“It wouldn’t,” Steel said. “But I don’t think they’re pneumatics. They’re hydraulics. Water.”

“Oh! Of course!” Sabra said, raising his voice slightly. “High pressure water to cut the stone!”

“That’s a lot of pressure,” Dawn said, twisting her head and casting the light from her horn over several stone carvings.

“But it explains the waterproofing on the cloth cover, as well as the walls,” Sabra said, rearing up and putting his forelegs on a nearby workbench to get a better view of the floor. Sure enough, he could see tiny grooves cut into the crystalline surface, radiating from a single point. “They didn’t want to waste water. As well …” He dropped to the floor and trotted to the side of the room. “There needs to be a place for the water to run to.”

There, one side almost flush against the wall, was a heavy metal grate over an opening twice as large as the one outside had been. And along the crystal floor next to it … Scratches.

Sabra crouched, eyeing the grating as Steel and Dawn flanked him. This is it! But there wasn’t any space for his hooves to grip the grating. Which means that there must be another—There! He rose and pulled his Fimbo from his back. The tip slipped easily into a gap at the edge of the grating, a gap, he noted, that seemed to have been left specially for that purpose. The edge of the grate lifted up … and then an orange glow wrapped it and pulled it back, exposing a short drop down into a long, flat-bottomed shaft.

“Well done, Sabra,” Steel said, clapping him on the shoulder with a hoof. “I think you found our entrance.”

“Thank you, captain,” Sabra said, dropping the grate to the floor. And I didn’t need Sky after all to find it. She’d be proud of that.

Though I would have liked her to see it.

“I’ve got lights, so I’ll take point,” Steel said, dropping down through the opening. Twin beams of white stabbed out from the sides of his helmet, lighting the drain shaft. “This was definitely widened recently,” he said, his voice echoing up out of the opening. “Dawn, you’ve got the map, so you’ll follow me. Sabra? Take the rear and pull that drain cover shut behind us. Let’s not leave them any clues.”

“Understood, captain.” Dawn stepped through the opening, landing on the concrete below with a faint thump. Sabra followed as soon as she had stepped out of the way, landing in total silence. The shaft had indeed been widened, the ceiling lifted enough that Dawn was making her way forward in a low crouch down the slope.

Clever, Sabra thought as he reached up and tugged the metal grate back into place with a faint squeal. Nova would be, if not impressed, then at least grudgingly admiring about it, I’m sure. The grate came to a stop with a sharp clang.

He turned and peered down the shaft. Steel had already reached the street, the light from his helmet shining past the small shaft’s exit point. Dawn herself was still standing at the end, holding the map she’d made in her magic as she pinpointed her position. “East,” she said, her low voice carrying. “We need to go east.” The lights shifted as Steel nodded, and then changed direction.

Well, Sabra thought as he followed Dawn down the drain. We made it.

Now we just need to find our way to the tower.

Chapter 23

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I take it back, Hunter thought as he sat back on his haunches, hoof moving without thought to rub against a foreleg for warmth, only to stop as it came into contact with the heavy coat he was already wearing over his armor. I have never been anyplace colder. Not even the Jetriver Canyons, where the wind was sharp and cold enough to freeze open water into ice, had been as cold as the Crystal Mountains were now.

Maybe, he conceded. I didn’t spend half as long in the Jetriver at a single go as I have out here. He forced his hoof down, eyeing the thick growth of trees around them, and let out another faint shiver. At least they were breaking the wind somewhat.

But only a little. He glanced at the trees around them, noting the thick, ridged, heavy bark and the straightness of their trunks. Mountain pine. Bark that can be as deep as half a foot thick, and a very low-level magic usage that keeps the heartwood from freezing solid during the winters. Plus compartmentalized growth patterns that allow it to literally kill parts of itself to protect others if the weather worsens.

And even that didn’t protect it sometimes. The trees around them were thriving and alive, but he’d seen dead ones before. And there probably will be a few more on the mountain after tonight.

He shivered again as the wind howled. Magic or not, this is bad. And when the sun sets … Well, they’d either run the boilers hot aboard The Hummingbird … or build the deepest, warmest snow shelter they could and hope for the best.

“There.” Hunter looked away from the trees as Nova stepped back, a spark of magic sputtering out from his horn. “Got it.”

“You’re sure?”

Nova fixed a flat stare at him. “Am I sure?”

“Right. Wonky question.” He stood, shaking his body and dislodging some of the snow that had built up on him while he’d waited. “What was it, anyway?”

“The trap?” Nova asked, shaking in a similar manner and sending a spray of snow whirling away in the heavy wind. “Not sure, honestly. Some sort of mental nightmare spell.”

“He seems to like those.”

“He does. Anyway, had we stepped into it, it would have … put us into a trance, or something? Some sort of stunning spell was mixed in there, plus a whole lot of that fear magic.” He shrugged. “I don’t know if it would have broken through the armor, but …”

“No sense taking dodgy chances.”

“Yeah. Plus, there was a second component I couldn’t identify.”

Hunter frowned. “Meaning what?”

“I don’t know,” Nova said, shrugging again. “It might have just been some sort of weird alert, or it might have tried to wipe our memories. Who knows? This spellwork is archaic and unfamiliar as it is.” He rapped a hoof against his muzzle, clearing away ice. “Or should I say, was, because as good as this guy thinks he is at laying traps, he’s clearly never had to deal with someone like me!”

“Hah!” Hunter shook his head. “Glad you’re on our side, Nova. Let’s get moving again.” Another shiver ran through him. “Before we freeze in place.”

“Well,” Nova said as they began moving forward again, Hunter’s eyes following the faint path their quarry had left through the trees. “I did have some good motivation. I couldn’t cast a heating spell on myself and work on that trap.”

“Is that how you’re making do on only the one coat?”

“One coat and the wishes that I’d stolen Sabra’s heat mod from him before we left.”

“Tempting thought.” Ahead of them the path began to twist, bending around some of the larger trees. But never enough to double back. Where is he going? He can’t be this lost.

Another gust of wind swept past them, the thick flakes in the air momentarily covering the distant traces of the king’s passage. Then it was gone, but not without depositing another bed of flakes across everything. And still we’re following.

He led the way, Nova beside him as he tracked the faint furrow through the snow. At least he’s leaving more of an imprint now, Hunter thought as he forged ahead, one hoof in front of the other. If it had been snowing this hard yesterday with that little track he was leaving, we might not have even found him.

He peered up at the thick forest branches as somewhere above them, The Hummingbird’s engines shifted in pitch. The reaction was mostly by habit; even with what clear sky he could see through the branches, the snow was too thick to see any more of the airship than a faint shape somewhere above them. For a moment he wondered what it had to be like for Sky Bolt, flying in snow so thick she was almost blind.

A shiver ran down his spine, from the cold or the thought, he couldn’t quite say. Make a wrong judgement call, end up in the wrong possie without knowing it, and she could slam right into the side of the mountain. Not as much of a risk at the moment given their position on one of the flatter parts, but if the mad king kept his current course …

We’re going to end up in the peaks, Hunter thought, slowing for a moment as the path ahead of them faded, widening into a small gap in the forest with a vicious, cutting stream of wind sweeping through it. Nova pointed, and Hunter nodded as he saw the trail resume on the far side. Still winding back and forth among the trees like it’d been left by a pony that was off his face.

“Seriously,” Nova said, pausing at the edge of the channel in the trees and looking up and down its length. “Where does this guy think he’s going?”

“If I knew that, we wouldn’t be following him,” Hunter replied, watching Nova as his horn began to glow. A moment later he shook his head. The path ahead was clear. They moved forward once again, hooves crunching over the snow.

Another howl of wind swept past, and Hunter tucked his wings tighter against his sides, frowning as the morning light caught the sheen of frost coating his feathers. Around them, the forest seemed to swallow their slightest sound, entombing them in silence and wind. He tried to think back on the size of it from below. How far along are we? The forest had to be ending before long. The snow beneath his hooves was starting to slope upward once more, the roots of the trees ahead—well, trunks if he was accurate; the roots were long buried—steadily rising above their compatriots as the mountainside started to climb.

“So … how much longer are we going to chase this guy?” Nova asked, his voice soft against the snow.

“Good question.” Hunter slowed for a moment, stretching one of his legs and easing the burning from slogging through so much snow. “This isn’t what I expected. Guy was supposed to make a run for the empire. Instead …” He came to a full stop as the trees ahead of them began to thin, gaps of white, open snow visible standing out against the dark bark like bleached bone. “Instead it’s like he’s cracked a fruity. We’re chasing him away from the city, which is our job, but …”

“Doesn’t feel right, does it?” Nova asked.

“No.” He started moving forward once more, snowshoes eliciting a soft crunch with each step. “Don’t get me wrong, we definitely did something good when we dropped that tree on his crystal cocoon or whatever it was, but at this point I’m starting to wonder if we should be falling back.”

“Really?”

He shrugged. “Why not? Our job is to make sure he doesn’t head for the city, and he’s not doing that. I can’t say what he is doing, but he’s not headed for the Crystal Empire.” The gaps in the trees widened, exposing another icy, windswept plain. Here and there bits of bare, craggy rock poked through the snow like ancient, weathered sentinels, blurred by the thick snows. And across it, the depression left by Sombra’s passage wound like a snake.

“I mean, what are we really doing at this point? Chasing him away? Or is he headed somewhere else anyway?” The wind rose as they stepped out of the protective cover of the trees, and he raised his voice. “I’m not trying to whinge, but what are we doing? The only reason we’re still following him is because I keep getting worried he might double back and try to play us, but …” He waved a hoof at the path across the open plain ahead of them. “He keeps going.”

“If he did fall back, we’d probably never see it from the air,” Nova said. “Not with this weather.”

“Right.” It was a shame their helmets covered the muzzle. Part of him wanted Nova to be able to see the scowl on his face. “But we could fall back to closer to the city. Get out of the mountains. At the same time …”

“If he realized we stopped, he could make another one of those crystals.”

“Yeah. And then he gets stronger, and we miss out on the ‘harass’ part of our mission.” He let out a short sigh, the wind whipping it away as soon as it left his muzzle. “But then if we keep chasing him like this … I don’t know about you but I feel absolutely stuffed. Like my legs are going to fall off.”

“I’m too frozen for that,” Nova replied, shivering. “But if I were warm, I’d probably feel like you.” For a moment they stood there, freezing amidst the howling wind.

“So … you’re in charge, boss,” Nova said after a moment. “We calling it?”

Hunter frowned. We’re not wrong. We’re wearing ourselves out here, and the only thing we’re managing to accomplish is having some idea of where this cloud of smoke is going. Which is … away from the city. Which is what we wanted in the first place.

And if we keep following him … what? He peered up at the shrouded shapes of the mountains around them. At some point, given he keeps heading northwest, he’s just going to reach a peak somewhere and pass into the Ocean. Where we can’t follow anyway. But …

“We keep going,” he said after a moment, shaking his head. “At least until we have a better idea of what he’s trying to do.”

“Wear us out and hope we fall into a trap?”

“Well, at least we’d know,” Hunter said as he led the way out into the open plain. The sky above them looked odd, the air full of so much snow that it gave what light there was a muted, soft appearance. He could still hear the faint rumble of The Hummingbird’s props carving their way through the sky, but the falling snow was so thick he couldn’t see it.

On the other hoof, if this snow gets much thicker, Sombra could lose us just by faking a split in the trail. For whatever reason the shade hadn’t shown any sign of doing such a thing thus far, but … If he did now, as thick as this snow is, we’d have to pick one, and if that wasn’t it, well … that’d be it. There’d be no chance of finding him until the snow cleared again. Unless we got very lucky.

A distant rumble rolled over the side of the mountain, thunder cascading across the peaks off in the distance and light diffusing across the sky. Thundersnow? Or just distant lightning from the storm? It was impossible to tell from the ground, though the latter seemed more likely. Not that either was good. It feels like the storm is still getting worse, he thought as he followed the shade’s faint path around one of the massive stone crags. For a moment they were in the lee, wind whipping around them but not touching, and then they moved out into the fury of the storm once more, wind so strong Hunter could see green lines on his suit glowing slightly just to keep him upright.

Ahead of them the ice and snow stretched on, an undulating slope of greyish-white that stretched out until it blended with the very sky in a shapeless fog. And still Sombra’s trail moved through it, winding back and forth but always moving in the same set direction. At least, that’s what it felt like. It was difficult to tell without any real frame of reference in the distance save the faint shadows of the peaks. Just as it was difficult to guess how long they’d been walking when there was no sun and no shadows, only diffused light refracting off of the snow from all directions.

Another craggy spire of stone poked from the ground ahead of them, its edges jagged despite the years of weathering it must have endured. Sombra’s path, Hunter noted, wound its way to the leeward side once more.

At least that’s consistent, he thought, angling his direction where the trail bent around the backside of the craggy wall of stone. Maybe the wind bothers him somehow as well. And the stone would provide some good protection from the howling winds. It’s what … twenty, thirty feet wide? Even a half a minute out of the constant, growling wind would be worth it.

“Wait.”

Hunter froze as Nova spoke, stopping in place as the snow swirled around him. “What?”

“Something’s not right ahead,” Nova said, stepping up alongside him, horn glowing. “On the back side of that rock, where the wind isn’t.”

“The lee?”

“Yeah.”

“Is it another crystal? A trap?”

“I’m … not sure,” Nova said with a slightly shake of his head. “It feels … similar? To the crystal. And maybe the trap? But it’s not the same.” He shook his head a little harder, the faint yellow glow around the tip of his horn fading. “But it’s definitely something.”

“And we’d have walked right into it,” Hunter said, nodding and looking a little more closely at the path.

“If it’s a trap,” Nova added. “It doesn’t feel quite like one, but then it does.”

“So … it could be anything. Right. At least we know it’s something. What do you say we cut—” South? Is has to be, but … “—that way.” He pointed. “And give it a wide angle so we can see what’s up. He stepped back, retracing their steps until they were a good distance back from the stone clump, out in the open once more.

“Right. Cut it wide.” They broke from the path, looping around the lee of the stone. “Keep sharp. For all we know, he’s waiting back there and just wanted us out in the open.” He wasn’t sure what they would do if that were the case. Think on our hooves, I guess.

“Why not just use your mod?” Nova asked as the lee began to come into view.

“Not yet. It takes a bit to recharge, and I want … to …” His voice trailed off. “Feathers.”

Thick, jagged spikes of black crystal covered the back of the stone, growing out of both it and the snow like quills on a hedgehog. Each was twisted and gnarled, as if they’d been unable to decide on a direction save “up” and grown in sudden, violent spurts.

“That’s not good,” he said, stopping as he looked at each of the crystals. There didn’t seem to be a pattern to them that he could see. At least, not one that made immediate sense. Though there was a center point about halfway across that was strangely clear, save for a few small “walls” of the crystal growth, though now that he was looking at it, they looked more like roots the way they’d moved out from a central location.

“Hold up,” he said, a pit growing in his gut. “I don’t think that’s a trap.” His eyes followed the outward growths, watching as the met the base of each crystalline talon.

“What is it?”

“I think it was … self defense.” He pushed at his mod, and it reacted, a pulse of magic rolling out of him and over the surrounding area.

“Hey!” Nova said, his horn flashing. “Warn a guy!”

“Sorry.” The apology slipped out half-heartedly as he stared at the crystal growths. They were dark, as was the air around them, a sharp contrast to the soft glow of ambient magic in the air. But at their centers … a familiar, pulsing shape.

“Iceworms.”

“What?”

“That’s what’s in the crystals,” Hunter said, fighting a shiver that had nothing to do with the cold. “There must have been a colony of them nesting under the ice beneath the rock.”

“What’s an iceworm?”

“It’s a giant flatworm, adapted to life in arctic conditions. Not very intelligent. They live in colonies, or packs, and feed on anything that’s warm or living. One or the other, not really picky.” He took a few steps to the side. The central point made sense now. “They’re dangerous if they’re big enough, and they use magic to “swim” through ice and snow at good speeds. This colony must have been napping in the lee, and when Sombra came around it, they sensed … well, whatever he is, and decided he’d be a good snack.”

“That didn’t work.”

“No. It was a definite blue. They’re all encased in those crystal things.” Guess I know now what would have happened had one of those attacks of his earlier hit me.

“Probably similar to the encasement trap I disarmed earlier,” Nova said, stepping forward. Hunter waved a wing at him, but he shook his head. “I need a better look.” His horn began to glow, and a moment later he nodded.

“That’s what it is all right,” he said, a faint tone of revulsion in his voice. “It shouldn’t be dangerous to us, but … I think I see how those things work.”

“Work?”

“The crystal growths. They’re magical in nature. I think it’s what’s holding them together. They’re … feeding on those things inside them to stay going.”

“So …” He thought for a moment. “Like a prison that uses the strength of its prisoner to stay locked.”

“Exactly. Well, not exactly,” Nova said. “It’s not drawing that much from them, but surrounded in stone like those things are … Do they need to breathe?”

“Not much.”

“Well, that’s probably the only reason why they’re alive. Hit a pony with that, though …”

Another shiver crawled down Hunter’s back. If the tendrils that had been after him earlier had connected … “It’d drain their magic and suffocate them.”

“And immobilize them.”

“Yikes.” All the more reason not to get hit. “That would be … it?”

“Depends on how strong the crystal is,” Nova replied, taking another few steps forward, horn still glowing. As Hunter watched, the glow from his mod faded, the soft ambience of magic—as well as the hard clarity around each of the crystals, returning to the more diffused light of the snowstorm.

“Okay … looking at it … and …” Nova shrugged. “Hard to say. Probably depends on how much magic he puts into it.”

“So …”

“Anywhere from ‘as hard as magic can make it’ to ‘glass.’ It’s magical crystal, so who knows what rules do or don’t apply though.” He moved forward again. “I think it’s safe to approach, but …”

“After you?” Hunter suggested.

“Right,” Nova said. “That’s kind of what I was getting at. I don’t feel anything, but if it goes wild …”

“No worries.” He gave his wings a quick flap, ignoring the cold chill at the edges of his wings. “I’ll get you out of it.”

Nova nodded and moved forward with slow, plodding steps. The crystal growths looked like clawed fingers cutting out of the earth, waiting to clench their grip.

But they didn’t, not even when Nova walked right up to a small one and rapped his hoof against it. “It’s not too hard,” he called as a piece broke off. “Sort of like … stiff glass? What’s that black, volcanic rock?”

“Obsidian?”

He nodded. “That’s it. I can feel it tugging at my magic though. Not hard, but it’s trying.” His horn glowed brightly once more. “And … there it is.”

“There what is?”

“Part of the spell,” Nova said, stepping back. “So it needs a burst of magic to determine how hard it is at first, and then it keeps pulling magic to try and stay that tough. But I can already see the magic destabilizing.”

“Just like the other crystals came apart.”

“Yeah.” Nova backed up again, horn glowing as he looked at the rest of them. “Let me try something.” He stared at one of the larger pieces for a moment, and then without warning a burst of light shot out of his horn and bounced off of the crystalline surface. Then the steady glow returned.

“Well,” he said after a moment. “That’s not good.”

Given what had just happened, Hunter made a guess. “It get stronger?”

“By a bit, yeah,” Nova answered. “So using magic to try and fight getting wrapped in one of these would be—”

“Bad,” Hunter finished, and Nova nodded. “Any way to counter it?”

“Sure,” Nova said quickly. “There’s probably some magic that can be used to overcharge the effect, or maybe turn it on itself. Probably some sort of countered emotional magic, given how this works. But finding it?” He shook his head. “Could take time.”

“Think on it anyway. We might need it.”

Nova nodded and stepped back up to one of the crystals. “Should we break these guys out?”

The answer came quickly. “No. They’re pretty mindless. We break them out, they’re just going to attack us. They might break out on their own, but if not …” He shrugged. “Iceworms are a pest and a nuisance. I’m not rapped at what happened to ‘em, but I’m not about to say let’s let them out. Let’s keep moving before we lose the trail.” Nova nodded and began to move away from the crystals.

“Still seems like a lousy way to go,” he said as they moved out of the lee, the wind rushing over them once more.

“They get stuck in ice sometimes and just go into hibernation until they get out.” Hunter tucked his wings in closer as snow swept into his sides, rolling off him or getting caught in the crevices of his armor plate. “If they’re smart, they’ll do the same thing from that, but again, I wouldn't worry about it. In a way, Sombra did us a favor. This way they aren’t munching on us.”

Nova said nothing, and they moved on in relative silence, wind howling around them. The trail Sombra had left swept back and forth across the open side of the mountain, meandering between lows and highs on the snow-covered plain and around more of the sharp, craggy rocks that poked through it. The snowfall grew thicker, painting the world around them in white and making even the nearby crags grow fuzzy and vanish.

“Wow.” Nova’s voice was muffled even at their close distance. “I can’t even see The Hummingbird anymore. Can you?”

“No,” Hunter said with a shake of his head. “I can still hear it.” He paused, pointing with one hoof in the direction of the faint, low rumble. “Off that way, though I doubt she’s having any luck keeping an eye on our quarry either.”

“What are the odds that he’ll double back?”

“That’s the thousand-bit question, isn’t it?” He shook his head, dislodging a number of snowflakes that fell down over his visor. He brushed them away with one hoof. “I mean, unless he’s got some sort of compass spell, he could end up just as lost as we could if we weren’t careful.” He turned, stopping as he looked back at Nova. “Would you try to double back in this kind of storm?”

“Me?” Nova shook his head. “Are you kidding? I’d end up going in circles. Or freezing to death. Or rather I would have before all the training we’ve been doing. I still wouldn’t be very confident without someone who knew what they were doing, though. I’d probably hunker down until this storm left.”

“But Sombra,” he said before Hunter could speak. “I don’t know. He’s a shade now, right?” He shrugged. “Maybe he doesn’t feel cold. Maybe he can’t freeze? He holed up last night, but that was to regain power maybe, rather than the weather.”

“I get it,” Hunter said as Nova let out a scoff. “We’re working with bodgy information.”

“It’s not that,” Nova said, shaking his head. “Though that doesn’t help. Point being I wouldn’t want to be out in a storm like this, but for all I know, Sombra can see through it. We know so little about what he can and can’t do, I wouldn’t want to make plans based on it. Though …”

“What?”

“We do know his speed.”

For a moment Hunter stood still. Speed? Then he nodded. “You’re right. We’ve seen him run. So if he did double back—”

“All we’d have to do is make sure we were waiting,” Nova agreed with a nod.

“Well, I was going to say we could wait out the storm in The Hummingbird, and then do a search pattern based on how far he could have gotten once the weather clears. It’s not like it’s giving us a chance to do much else, and the snow’s getting thick enough it’s covering his trail anyway.” He nodded at the faint traces. “We won’t be able to follow him for long, between the wind and the snowfall. I’m good, but I’m not that good.”

“So …?” Nova probed. “We calling it?”

“Unless you’ve got some magic that can track him when I can’t.”

Nova let out a short laugh. “If I could, I’d be doing it from the deck of The Hummingbird.”

“Fair point.” The Hummingbird’s sound had grown even more distant, though whether it was due to the ever-thickening snowfall or just it moving further away, he couldn’t say. “Got a spell to call The Hummingbird back?”

“If we get close enough.”

“Well, Bolt’s supposed to double-back if she doesn’t see us.”

“She couldn’t see anything in this soup.”

“Probably won’t be long, then.” He cocked one ear, listening. It did sound like it was starting to flip back a little. That, or the wind had just shifted again. Still, he could tell what direction it was in. “This way,” he said, starting forward through the thick snow. As he moved he could hear ice scrape between the plates of his armor, the sound harsh until it broke free and fell to the ground. Just standing still for a minute or two had been enough for the melting snow to freeze over. “Once we get close enough, send up a signal.”

“Believe me, I don’t need much convincing.” Nova’s horn flared, a yellow glow flashing around his muzzle. Steam rose from it, torn away in moments by the storm, followed by chunks of freed ice slipping out of the grating. They vanished into the snow, buried almost as soon as they had appeared.

The distant rumble of The Hummingbird’s engines shifted again, and Hunter glanced up at the sky. The snow was coming down so thick now that it seemed like the world itself was in a fog. I hope she doesn’t miss us in this storm. If it gets any worse, we’re going to have to hunker down in tents and wait it out. Plus try not to get buried.

They pushed forward, slowly moving across the plain. It was almost impossible to tell where their quarry had traveled now, and twice Hunter lost the path, only to find it again a minute later. By the second time, it was entirely luck.

However, his ears hadn’t misled him. The Hummingbird was circling back, the drone of its propellers growing louder and louder. It was still invisible through the thick snows, but— “It’s getting closer!”

“I hear it,” Nova called. “See it?”

“Not yet.” He slowed, twisting his head and searching for any sign of the airship’s envelope. “It has to be close though.” The roar was getting louder.

Then, like a behemoth rising out of the deep, the shape of the airship loomed out of the snows, filling the sky almost directly above them.

“No—” Hunter began, but he was already at it, his horn flashing brightly. The roar from The Hummingbird’s propellers changed almost immediately, pitch shifting as the airship pivoted, momentum bleeding and fighting against the storm.

“She sees us!” Hunter called as the running lights along the side of the airship’s structure began to flash. “I’ll fly up and drop the rope.”

“Reel it!” Nova shouted as Hunter spread his wings. “Weather’s bad enough.”

“You got it!” A few quick wingbeats took him into the air, his magic fighting to clear a path through the heavy winds and the massive, turbulent downdrafts rolling from The Hummingbird’s propellers. By the time he reached the side door, pushing it open with a heavy shove, he could feel his wings beginning to burn from both the weight of his gear and the force of the storm. Door open, it was all he could do not to collapse on the deck.

Drop the rope. The clips for the end were by the door, as well as the steam-powered winch, and he swung them out into the storm, the wheel letting out a rapid buzz as the heavy rope dropped down to the snow. A minute later it was stretched tight as the winch wound it back up, Nova trailing from the end and swinging wildly in the winds.

“Oh sun above,” Nova said, falling to his belly as soon as he was aboard. “I think I’m gonna hurl.”

“Don’t do it with your helmet on,” Hunter said as he swung the door shut. “It’ll just—” Nova bolted for the head, his magic detaching the harness from his armor and trailing bits of partially-melted ice as he went. A moment later the sound of someone heaving up a mostly-empty stomach filled the hallway, and Hunter grimaced.

Guess that ride was worse than it looked.

He brushed the snow and ice from his winter coat, then hung it by the door before grabbing one of the towels and giving himself a quick wipedown. Water trickled in rivulets down his sides and legs, the melting residue of the storm cascading through the metal grating by the door. You’d think I’d just come in from a monsoon, rather than just some crook snowstorm.

He gave his armor one final work over with the towel, then returned it to its place. There were still streaks of moisture across his armor, and as he watched another bit of melted water worked its way out from the join in his right shoulder plates, but it would have to do.

From the bathroom the sounds of retching halted, and there was the distinct sound of the head flushing away whatever Nova had managed to put into it.

“I’m heading up front,” Hunter said, glancing through the open hatch. Nova had his head under the small sink, and he pulled back enough only to give Hunter a quick nod before ducking back into it. “Be sure to clean up the snow and water when you’re done.

Nova lifted a hoof and made a loose “Acknowledged” signal with one hoof, head still buried in the faucet.

Well, at least he’s getting those signals down pretty well. Hunter turned and rounded the T, heading forward toward the front of the airship. The hatch to the main cabin was open, as was the one to the cockpit.

“Sky Bolt?” he called as he stepped into the main cabin. “How’s it going?”

“Good and bad,” she answered as he stepped across the open hatchway frame and into the cockpit. Sky Bolt was sitting right in the pilot’s chair, as he’d expected, hooves on the controls though she still found a second to glance at him. “Nova aboard yet?”

“He is.”

“Good,” Bolt said, wings relaxing slightly. She leaned over and adjusted a few of the controls, and The Hummingbird vibrated as it began to turn into the wind. “Holding that spot was a little tricky. That, and with all the rocks around, I really didn’t want to be that close to the ground.” Through the cockpit glass, the craggy pillars he and Nova had been working around began to shrink and fade, the thick snow obscuring them from view as the airship rose into the sky.

“Sombra?”

Bolt shook her head before he’d even finished saying the shade’s name. “Lost track of him about five, ten minutes ago. Snow just got too thick.”

“Where?”

“Northeast, same path as always,” Bolt said, eyes on her instrument panel. He didn’t blame her. The world around them seemed to have been reduced to shifting shades of white. It made his wings itch.

We’re flying blind. Visually anyway.

“Shouldn’t be too hard to pick up his trail when the weather clears, though,” Bolt continued, and Hunter snapped his eyes away from the scene outside the cockpit.

“Why not?”

“Because he was on the edge of the glacier again.”

“Wait, the same glacier we found him in the first place?”

“According to my maps? Yeah,” Bolt said with a nod. “Right on the edge of the mountain.”

“Huh.” He frowned, sitting back on his haunches. “Why would he do that?”

“Head for the glacier?”

“The whole thing,” he said. From behind him, the sound of hoofsteps announced Nova’s arrival to the main cabin. “Nova and I were just talking about this. Where’s he going? Why isn’t he putting up more of a fight to get to the city? Isn’t that supposed to be his target?”

“I don’t know,” Sky Bolt said, hiding a yawn behind one hoof as soon as she had finished speaking. Then The Hummingbird shook under a gust of wind, and her hoof snapped back to the controls so quickly he’d have missed it had he blinked. “All I can tell you is where I lost sight of him.”

“Where was it?” Nova asked as he stepped up to the open hatch.

“The edge of the glacier,” Hunter said, turning to look at him. Anything to keep his eyes off of the swirling snows outside.

Nova’s eyes widened slightly, an expression of confused surprise on his face. “The same one?”

“The same one,” he said with a nod. “And no, Sky Bolt doesn’t know why he’s there either.”

“Huh …” Nova sat back with a frown. “Back to the glacier? What’s important about the glacier? I mean, we did sort of drive him away from it at first.”

“Did we?” Hunter paused for a moment, thinking back on the—had it really been only a day prior? “We did, didn’t we? Sort of?”

“Not intentionally,” Nova replied. “But when you’re running from someone, sometimes you’ve just got to take the best avenue you can.”

“He has been heading northeast ever since then, and the glacier is … Hang on.” Sky Bolt reached up and flipped her charts down, pointing with one wing pinion even as she brought her hooves back to the controls. “There,” she said, her wing tapping the glacier’s sinuous shape on the map. “Glacier runs about the same. Sometimes east, sometimes north, but sorta both until that sharp north turn before the … start?” She glanced at Hunter.

“Glacier head. It’s not a very glamorous term, but it’s not going to trip up your gob, either.”

“Right,” she said with a nod. “So yeah, the glacier head.”

Hunter nodded, eyeing the map. “Where are we right now?”

“About here.” Bolt’s feather moved.

“And where did we start?”

“One second …” The Hummingbird vibrated slightly, then dropped several feet before rising back up, Hunter’s wings popping out slightly to stabilize against the sudden shift before he caught them.

“Okay, we’re good,” Bolt said, pulling one hoof from the controls and turning to look at the map. “We started following him here,” she said, her wingtip moving to a grey line marked over the plastic. “The grey is our rough path over the last day or so.”

“Huh.” Hunter ran his eyes over the line, following it as it moved across the map. Northeast, like we’ve been saying, but … The glacier moved east, and then north. “It does kind of look like he was trying to get back to the glacier, doesn’t it? But at the same time …” He extended a hoof, and Bolt withdrew her wing, allowing him to tap the map where the line they had followed was only a mile from the edge of the glacier. “If he wanted to get to the glacier, he could have gone to it here. Instead, he pushed up the mountainside.”

“So maybe it’s not the glacier he’s after. Or a point across the glacier.”

“Bolt? Straightedge?”

“Above it. In the storage.” The Hummingbird jerked again, the deck tilting slightly underhoof as Hunter followed her instructions and pulled a small, clear plastic ruler with a metal core out of a tiny compartment behind the map’s recessed space.

“It’s magnetic,” Bolt said, glancing at him as he looked at it. “Enough that it’ll stick to the map board and shouldn’t move, but not enough to mess with Hummingbird’s compass.”

“Clever. Do we pay you enough?” True to her words, the ruler popped out of his hoof as soon as it was close to the map.

“I’m starting to think not remotely,” Bolt answered. “But since I’ve pretty much got an unlimited budget, it’s a fair trade off. Besides, I didn’t come up with that one.”

“Still clever,” he said as he slid the ruler into position. “And if Sombra keeps on his current path, he’s going …” His eyes followed the edge of the ruler along the map.

“Nowhere,” Nova answered for him, stepping halfway into the cockpit. “That’s just more empty mountain.”

“As much as I wish it wasn’t true, I’m getting the same vibe.” Hunter pulled his gaze back, checking the nearby features on the map. There weren’t many. “A few frozen lakes, some trees … If he’s actually heading to something out there, I don’t see it.”

Still, the answer didn’t sit right. He’s obviously heading the way he is for a reason. There has to be something to it.

But what? That’s the real question. He stared up at the map even as around them, the skies began to shift, the snow fading into thick, grey cloud.

“Well, I’m not seeing anything,” Nova said from the doorway. “And I’m feeling kind of hungry now that my stomach has settled.”

“Settled?” Bolt asked. “What happened?”

“The ride up had a lot of spinning,” Nova replied. “A little too much.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Glad the toilet’s right next to the door.”

“You didn’t throw up on my deck?”

“No. Or in the helmet.”

“Eugh.” Sky Bolt shook slightly. “That would not work well. Please don’t.”

Hunter let the banter fall to the back of his mind, still staring at the map as the pair spoke. Something about it just didn’t quite make sense.

There’s the path he’s been on, he thought, glancing at the grey line. And there’s where he’s headed if he stays on the same path … Once more his eyes moved out into the empty mountainside. Then further. Could he be going that far? he thought as his eyes fixed on a distant peak, a good thirty miles from the end of the ruler. He’s heading straight for it, but …

Something about it didn’t feel right, and he frowned, staring at the distant peak. Wait a minute. I recognize that. Before the snow was coming down. Tiny print stared back at him from next to the peak’s top. 24,000 feet. One of the taller mountains in the Crystal Range. And definitely the tallest in the local … Wait a minute.

He reached out and tapped the ruler, adjusting its path so that one end pointed at the next closest peak, to the north. Then he moved it again, to the one south.

“Boss?”

Now further back … He moved the ruler once more, this time back to where Sombra had broken out of the glacier. Again he checked the lines.

“Boss?”

That could be it. He pulled his hooves away. Because of all the snow—

“Lieutenant?”

His attention snapped away from the map. “What?” Bolt was giving him a curious look, and it took him a moment to catch up with why.

“Right, I’m the boss when Steel’s gone. Sorry, Sky Bolt, I was just noticing something interesting.”

“You think you know where he’s going?”

He shook his head. “No, but I think I know why he’s heading the direction he is. The peaks.”

“Oh.” Bolt’s face lit up. “Oh yeah, that does make sense. He’s been gone for more than a thousand years, right? They’d probably be the only familiar landmarks if he knew the area.”

“Right!” Bolt was jumping ahead of him now, filling in a few of the gaps he hadn’t thought of. “And we haven’t been making use of them because of the storm. But if he knew the area—”

“He’d have something to roughly go off of,” Sky Bolt said with a nod. “Though that still doesn’t explain why he’d head northeast, rather than to the city.”

“I can’t answer that either,” Hunter said. “But I like knowing that there is some destination in mind, even if I can’t say what it is. Should make it easier to keep track of him.”

Bolt nodded, then hid another yawn behind her hoof. “Good.” Another yawn. “I should have asked, but we’re waiting for the weather to clear, right?”

“Yeah,” he said with a nod. “No point in getting lost down in that storm.” Outside the cockpit the sky had started to brighten, the grey clouds clearing.

“Good, because I need some actual sleep,” Bolt said, eyes going back to the controls. “I’m taking us up above the storm; should be fairly easy for you to hold position once we’re above the clouds. Just stationkeeping. You keep my baby right here, and when this storm blows out, or at least clears a bit, we’ll drop down. At least,” she said as The Hummingbird broke free of the clouds, ascending into a welcome clear blue sky. “If you’re okay with that.”

“That sounds fine. Get some sleep.”

Bolt nodded, then leaned over and engaged the autopilot. “Just keep us here,” she said as she slid out of the seat, stifling another yawn. She did, he noticed, have the forethought to grab her helmet from her bunk and tuck it under one wing before sidling past him and into the main cabin. He kept an eye on her as she trotted over to a spare bunk—Sabra’s, he couldn’t help but notice, though he wasn’t sure her decision had even been conscious—and collapse on top of it.

She was asleep in seconds, wings twitching aimlessly.

“Wow,” Nova said from the galley. “She really was tired.”

“Comes with the job,” Hunter said, taking a moment to peer out the cockpit glass and pull in a deep breath at the sight of the clear blue sky around them. After so much grey and white it was a refreshing—if cold—view, one that made him want to dive out the door and just fly through it.

Not that he would, and not just because someone needed to be at the helm. As high as they were, the air outside would be hard to breathe. And likely just as cold, if not colder, than it had been at ground level.

He slid himself into the pilot’s seat, eyeing first the controls, then the roiling snowstorm beneath them. A couple of hours, he thought. Maybe four or five. By then, hopefully, the storm would have spent most of its fury, and the snow would abate.

And then, he thought, eyes fixing on a distant peak poking through the heavy clouds. We’ll see if Sombra switched direction on us once we were gone. And if not …

As long as he kept heading away from the city and gave the rest of the team more time, then they’d have to call it good.

Chapter 24

View Online

To Sabra’s surprise, the sewer was far more pleasant than he’d expected, if a little cramped. It seemed that whoever had designed the city’s sewage system had come possessed of the forethought to make them as hassle-free as possible. Something the architects of the cisterns at the monastery would have been blessed to possess, he thought. Once more their path took them down a steep set of stairs, the sound of their hoofsteps echoing off the crystal around them like a faint, distant drumbeat.

Granted, the comparison was hardly fair. The monastery had been established thousands of years earlier, before even The Breaking, and the water and sewer system had served faithfully all that time, barring the occasional act of maintenance. However, while it had functioned and functioned well, when the time had come for that maintenance, things had proven … difficult.

The sewer they were now in, he’d noticed, didn’t appear to suffer from that problem. While hardly spacious, whoever had designed it had clearly been a master architect. Even with their limited light, the way the channels of the city moved around one another, each carefully positioned, spoke of a careful attention to detail. Detail that had not been spared when considering where one who would work on the system or examine it would go. They’d yet to be forced back by spot so narrow they couldn’t get through it—though they had left plenty of scrapes on the crystalline walls—and rarely if at all, did they encounter running water. Almost everything was in thick crystal pipes that ran for miles before vanishing into blocky, crystal constructs that were likely pumping stations of some kind, though how they worked he couldn’t say. And while they had found several open water sources, Dawn had noted with a watchful eye that it was “grey water” and therefore not intended for consumption or usage in normal fashion … Though she had also pointed out that there seemed to be some form of low-level sterilization magic at work on the canals and conduits themselves, likely as part of a water purification system.

However, if there had been anything similar on the walkways and accesses themselves, it had long since faded. The passageways had clearly not been cleaned in years, and more than once the team had found their way helped by the worn hoofprints of another runner crisscrossing the tunnels. At the same time, more than one set of hoofprints had led them astray, and they’d been forced to backtrack once they’d realized their mistake. Working off of what was essentially several smaller, personal maps blended together came with plenty of missteps, it seemed.

“All right, Dawn,” Steel said, the twin beams of his helmet-lights ahead coming to a stop. “We’ve got three options here. Left, right, and straight ahead. Which one do we take?”

Dawn pulled up behind Steel, the orange glow of her horn providing a softer contrast the harder, white light of the captain’s headlamps. “Give me a moment,” she said, a faint note of displeasure in her voice echoing down the tunnels around them. “We’re in a section with three overlays.”

Sabra came to a stop, turning and glancing behind them as he did so, his ears twitching. Nothing but distant echoes and the sound of running water rolled past him. And the echoes, while distorted, were definitely their own.

They were alone. As they had been for the last hour.

“Blasted artists,” Dawn said, rotating the map in her magic. “Would it have broken them to simply build a conventional sewer system with right angles instead of something based off of a snowflake? We get it. You’re built in a snow plain. You’re very clever.” She let out a faint snort as she rotated the map once more. “If I’m reading this right—and once more I must reiterate that this is often a delicate ‘if’—then we need to go … straight.”

“All right,” Captain Song said, stepping forward. His armored hooves—especially the gauntlets—let out sharp rings as he followed a set of steps up and over a large collection of pipes. “Straight ahead it is.”

“From there,” Dawn continued, moving forward to follow the captain, her own steps far less heavy. “This line should meet up with one of the main arms of the whole system. We should be able to follow that for a half-a-mile …” The map twisted again. “At which point we’ll be able to take a junction that should bring us to the tower.”

“Good.”

That was all that was said for some time as they followed the sewer passage, the sound of their hoofsteps a constant echo around them, but the only sound after that of the occasional gurgle or trickle of open water.

I will have to mention these crystal pumps to Sky after this is all over, Sabra thought as they passed another one of the “pumping stations,” where dozens of pipes met, merged, and moved into large boxes before splitting and breaking off once more. I expect she would find their engineering fascinating. He could already picture it in his head, the sight of her carefully but excitedly taking apart one of the pumps and rushing around, letting out an excited squeal each time she found something new and explaining it to him, even when she sped up and started throwing around words he’d never heard in Equestrian before …

He smiled as a warm glow moved through him. She would love every minute of it. In fact … It would be Hearth’s Warming soon, and it was traditional, he understood, to give those you cared for a gift. I wonder how much one of these pumps would cost? Certainly they must have spares somewhere. And most—really all—of his wages simply went into an account he had little use for outside of the occasional need.

Then again, he thought, ears flicking as Captain Song began to slow. Given the status of this kingdom, they may count as precious museum antiquities.

“Okay, we’ve got a junction,” Steel said from ahead, his words pulling Sabra’s attention almost fully back to the present. “Not a big one either.”

“What?” Dawn’s voice echoed down the tunnel, her magic brightening slightly as she sped up. She let out a snort as she reached the captain’s side, the combination of their lights revealing a pair of perpendicular openings in the side of the sewer.

“This can’t be right then,” she said as Sabra caught up and once again gave the darkness behind them a quick listen.

Nothing but their own echoes.

“Wait …” Dawn said, turning the map. “Horseapples. We made a wrong turn.”

“Do we need to go back?”

“No,” she said with a toss of her head. “If we go right, and then take our next left … it should bring us to the main tunnel we wanted to find in the first place.”

“So this way?” Steel tossed his head toward the right opening.

“I … Yes,” Dawn said with a nod. “That’s it. Then the next left we find. Should be a partial left, as we’ll be rejoining a fork.”

Again they moved on, Steel leading the way as they made their way down the much tighter and narrower right-hoof path. Before long, however, and true to Dawn’s reading, they came to a join in the tunnel, their passageway meeting up with a large one that led them to—

“This has to be it,” Steel said as the path they were following opened up to a sort of crystal catwalk stretched across a space that, if not large, was certainly bigger than anything they’d seen so far. “Compass check?”

“One moment,” Dawn said, her horn flashing for a moment. She turned, facing diagonal toward the right wall of the large shaft. “North is that way.”

“So we’re in the right spot,” Steel said, stepping out onto the catwalk. “We just need to head northwest.”

“I concur,” Dawn said, following him out onto the catwalk and peering around at their surroundings. The roof was only a few feet above both of their heads, Sabra noticed, and there didn’t appear to be any stairs or ladder down to the floor of the larger tunnel. “Does anyone see how we get down?”

“Simple,” Sabra said, stepping up alongside her and then ducking his head under the safety railing. “As Dusk Guard do.” He dropped off of the catwalk and fell for just an instant before landing in the clear space between the pipes below them with a soft thud. He waited for the echoes to die down, ears twitching just in case he caught some faint reaction to the sound of his landing, and then looked up. “Just jump.”

“Yes yes, I gathered that,” Dawn said, ducking under the railing and leaping down. A bright orange glow rippled over her body as she fell, slowing her descent, and though she landed with a thump, her impact far lighter than his.

Steel’s impact, however, was louder than the both of them put together, the gauntlets on his forelegs sending an almost deafening ring reverberating down the sewer in both directions.

“Sorry,” he said as soon as the sound had faded. “I realized how bad an idea that was the moment I jumped.” Sabra held up a hoof as the light from the captain’s headlamps tinted his visor. “Which way?”

“That way,” Dawn said. Steel’s lights spun away, and Sabra dropped his hoof. “According to the map, this is one of the larger arms of the entire network. It should run straight to the center of the city.”

“Good,” Steel said, nodding. “Let’s get to it.” He strode off, his hoofsteps echoing off of the crystalline pipes around them. The large tunnel had been built with piping on both sides, rather than one like some of the smaller tunnels, the central walkway in the center. It was, Sabra reflected, a bit like being in a valley, save that it was large collections of pipes rolling up on either side instead of mountains. The clop of their hoofsteps echoed off of the pipes like distant bells, rolling up and down the tunnel like faint thunder.

The tunnel ahead of them stretched onward, never deviating from its path. Are we under one of the main roads? Sabra wondered, glancing up as he followed behind Dawn. The map had looked almost identical to the road system, but he hadn’t taken a good-enough look to be sure.

His ears twitched, and he paused for a brief moment, coming to full alertness as both pivoted forward, honing in on the tunnel ahead of him. There was a countering sound to the echo. Small, and distant, but something nonetheless. Something that wasn’t in sync with either their steps or the piping around them.

He let out a short, quick hiss. Dawn and Steel both froze, and a moment later both their light sources winked out. Sabra waiting for the echoing sounds of their hoofsteps to fade, ears straining as he listened. He could hear both of the them breathing in slow, measured breaths, but past that …

There it is again. A faint, almost unnoticable thump far off in the distance.

Almost unnoticeable. He crept forward through the darkness, skirting around Dawn and nearing the captain as his ears strained for another tease of the noise.

There! It echoed down the tunnel again, a very faint thunk sound that, while distorted, was …

Wood, he thought. Wood hitting something hard and stopping with a bang. Crystal maybe? And why wood? Unless …

There was one easy conclusion to reach from it. A door, perhaps. Opening and then closing. He took another few steps forward, past Steel, still alert and waiting.

A faint rumble reached his ears, so distant and quiet he almost couldn’t hear it, even with his special talent being what it was. And though he couldn’t make out any details, he could hear the steady rhythm to it, as well as the rising and falling cadence that could only be one thing.

Voices. And hoofsteps. Someone else had entered the sewers. Who or why he couldn’t say yet. But they weren’t alone. And … He took another quiet step forward. Are they getting closer? His ears strained as he listened, his own breath coming in slower, steady pulls as to not distract or interfere with what he could pick up.

It was difficult. But as the seconds ticked on, and the faint murmur grew gradually louder, the direction became clear. Whoever or whatever was making the sounds, they were coming closer.

“Voices,” he said quietly, stepping back to the captain. “I cannot make out how many. But they are coming this way.”

“Dawn, low light.” The sergeant complied, a faint orange glow lighting their immediate area. After such utter blackness, it was a welcome sight. “Everypony up on the pipes,” Steel said, pointing at the walls. “Try to get somewhere out of sight in case they have light. If they’re Order, ambush. If there’s more than double our number, let them pass by. We don’t want anyone tipping our hand.”

Sabra nodded, Dawn following suit a moment later. Then he turned and began climbing up the pipes as quietly as he could manage. Again, a situation that makes me wish we had Nova along with us. Sneaking around was his skill, far more than anypony else on the team. One hoof slipped slightly as he climbed, the rubbery cover over his hoof failing to grip one of the pipes, and he adjusted his positioning, clambering upward as far as he could and then slipping into a gap below several small pipes and atop a large one. Lying on his belly he could just fit without his Fimbo or the rest of his gear striking the small pipes above.

Steel had not been so lucky. A few soft scrapes came from the other side of the tunnel as the captain pressed himself down between two pipes, leaving only his shoulders and head exposed. Dawn, meanwhile, had secreted herself further back. A moment later the glow of her horn went out, and once more darkness claimed them.

Uncomfortable darkness. It was one thing to lie in a dark room, beneath blankets, and another to move freely even in a blackness that seemed almost all consuming. But to be wedged into a small space amid utter blackness …

At least there have been no signs of life down here. Monstrous life, anyway. The sound of voices was growing steadily louder, though he couldn’t quite make out what anyone was saying yet. Then there was a sharper tone that, even indecipherable due to distance, was clearly a command to be quiet, because afterward, the echoes faded.

Of their voices, anyway. He could still hear … hoofsteps. Yes, they were definitely hoofsteps. Now if only I could relay that to Dawn and Steel, he thought as the sound rolled past him. But they’d likely figure it out on their own before long.

Twelve hooves, he thought as the echoes became more distinct. Three ponies then. A faint glow of purple light, so faint he doubted he would have noticed it had it not been so vastly dark, pricked at his eyes from the end of the tunnel. Dim at first, but growing brighter with each passing moment, illuminating forth from an opening some distance off, near what looked like the end of the tunnel they were in.

The tower, then, he guessed. That was where Dawn had said the tunnel led, if he was remembering her words correctly. A smattering of chatter began to echo down the tunnel again, quieter than it had been the first time, but much more identifiable as voices due to the distance. His ears twitched again, trying to make sense of the dull rumble. He made out a few scattered words, such as “go” and “why,” but nothing coherent.

Then the speakers stepped into view, the purple-white glow bathing the end of the tunnel. Unicorns, all, and wearing familiar-looking armor.

The Order, Sabra thought as the group stopped. And only three of them.

“Right!” the one behind the two leads said, his voice echoing down the tunnel. “How far away is the divide?”

“Near a quarter of a mile,” one of the other two replied, pointing with her hoof.

“A quarter-mile?” The first pony looked up at the ceiling of the tunnel. “You jest! There could be iceworms down here.”

“The shinies never get eaten,” the third pony pointed out.

“Who would know?” the first pony replied, his tone disdainful. “They are shiners. For all we know they come down here to rut under the ground like dirt-eaters. There could be a whole chamber full of bones down here and we would hardly know.”

“So … What are you saying, exactly?” one of the lead ponies asked, turning to look back at the first. “That you will stay here while we go check the tunnel?”

Please don’t, Sabra thought. Three in a group they could handle. Two with a rearward “guard” would be tricky to take down without one escaping to sound an alarm.

“Yeah,” the third pony said, her tone mocking. “All alone?”

“Do not worry,” the second said, her tone just as mocking as the third’s. “If we hear your screams, I’m sure we will be able to make it back in time to aid you. Before an iceworm consumes your innards from—”

“Enough!” The sharp command echoed down the tunnel alongside a flash of magic from the unicorn’s horn. “Your points, if mocking, are valid. I shall come with you to the junction. After all, it would not do for two juniors—” They stressed the word, stretching it out, presumably matching it with a sneer or a glare. “—to be caught unawares in the event that there were any real danger.”

“Oh shove it up your backside, you pompous oaf,” the second replied, turning her back on the stallion and flicking her tail. “You may be a senior mage, but there is a perfectly valid reason you were assigned to scout the sewers with us.”

“Yes,” the third said, mirroring the motion as the first began to sputter. “Because Argent believes you to be an ass.”

“How dare y—?”

“Wait!” The third spun around quickly, her shout echoing down the tunnel. “My apologies, senior mage. I misspoke.”

“Well, I should think so you—”

“Argent knows you are an ass. That’s why you’re down here following us, and not up there planning with the rest of the mages.”

“Why you—” Whatever the unicorn had been about to say was buried under mocking laughter as the two juniors began to gallop forward down the tunnel, leaving their “leader” sputtering behind them. A moment later his shout echoed after them, and the pair slowed, but not enough that he didn’t have to hurry to catch up.

Dissension, Sabra thought as the trio grew closer, the light from their horns gradually nearing his hiding place. I wonder if the captain can use that?

There was no question about taking the group down, however. The three of them were moving toward their position, and clearly some kind of scouting party—though from the sound of it, either sent mostly to keep them out of trouble. Or to keep the third out of trouble, it was hard to say which was accurate.

Either way, it doesn’t matter, Sabra thought as the trio grew closer, the two mares in front laughing and bantering among one another while their superior caught up. He let out a barking command as soon as he was close to them.

“Keep quiet!” he ordered. They were close enough now that Sabra could see the mares roll their eyes. “The sounds echo down here.”

“We are aware of this, senior mage,” the second of the pair said. “But with all of your shouting, we were not aware that you were.”

“You—!” The trio was near his position now, purplish-white light shining across his armor. Hopefully, shoved into the pipes up above eye-level, none of them would notice or even be able to see him.

“Relax, senior mage,” the other said with a shake of her head. “We will not find anyone down here. Even if there are any shinies down here, they run like cowards whenever they hear us patrolling. They know what would happen if we caught them.”

A valid reason for why the center of the map was fairly unknown, Sabra thought as the trio passed right by beneath him. He turned his eyes to Steel’s position and caught sight of a very faint nod. A signal to act. Slowly, carefully, he began to slide out of his position between the pipes, one hoof reaching for his Fimbo.

“It is no wonder you two are assigned to such duty,” the senior mage was saying as Sabra stood atop one of the pipes, gauging the distance as they moved forward. “You’re both just—”

Sabra leaped just as one of the lead mares began to turn, his unextended Fimbo gripped in one hoof. He saw her eyes begin to widen in surprise … and then he brought his staff down against the side of the senior mage’s head, the force of the blow throwing the unicorn to the side. The mage slammed into the pipes as Sabra landed, ready to spring forward at the last two.

He didn’t need to. Before the one mare could even begin to shout, ropes snaked up around her out of the darkness, what would have been a scream morphing into a grotesque gurgle as they tightened around her throat and limbs. Both her and her companion hit the ground in a tangle of limbs and rope.

“Secure them,” Dawn said, her voice so cold it almost sent a shiver down his spine, but he was already moving. “Horn locks only. I have more rope.” As he watched, the thin lengths began to tie themselves into knots, rapidly tying down and tightening even as the two mares struggled. One lit her horn, likely readying a spell, but one of the ropes cinched tight around her throat, and she let out a pained choke, the light winking out, leaving only Dawn’s soft orange illuminating the scene.

“Quickly.”

He nodded, ignoring the fearful, panicked look in the mares’ eyes as he slid a horn lock down over each of their horns. Only once the horn lock was secure did the rope around each mare’s throat ease back and then slide away. Then he turned, checking the stallion he’d hit on his way down.

“Out cold,” Steel said, rising from beside the unicorn’s limp form. “And I don’t know how long it’ll be ‘till he wakes up. Good hit, lousy helmet.” He pulled a horn lock from his saddlebags. “We’ll tie him up anyway.”

“I’ll examine him,” Dawn said, stepping past Sabra. “If he dies here, it means he can’t be imprisoned later.”

“Meanwhile, these two can still talk,” Steel said, stepping over to the now-silent—and thoroughly terrified-looking—Order mares. “Let’s see what they can tell us about the tower.

“Nothing!” one of them blurted. “We will not betray our ruler to …” She paused, staring up at Steel. “What … are you, anyway?”

“We are the Dusk Guard. Of Equestria,” Steel said, staring down at the pair.

“Then it’s true,” the other mare said. “There is an army here.”

“True enough,” Steel said, his voice cold. “How many of you are left in the tower?”

“More than you will ever be able to handle, no matter how many of you there are,” one mare practically spat at him. “King Sombra will return soon, and whatever the strength of your forces, they will fall!”

Steel let out a sigh as the mare finished her rant with actual spit, the thick drool dripping down the front of his armor. “Well,” he said, wiping it away with one hoof. “I’d hoped that in light of how little you cared for your superior—” One of the mares let out a scoff, but the captain ignored it. “—you’d be a bit more willing to tell us something that could help your case later.”

“Save your breath.” The mare who hadn’t spit spoke, eyes flashing. “Reed is no one’s superior, but Argent …” She let out a short, almost chilling laugh. “Say or do what you will, Equestrian. It will not help you in the end.”

Sabra watched as Steel simply shrugged. “We’ll see,” he said, as if the mare hadn’t spoken at all. “Anything else you want to tell us?”

“We have not told you anything!” the first mare almost shouted, jerking against her restraints but accomplishing little more than flopping against the ground. “You will—”

“Actually, you’ve told me quite a lot,” Steel said, his words carrying enough weight that they somehow shut the mare up. He crouched, far enough back, Sabra noted, that neither of the mares would be able to lash out at him with their hooves, but close enough they could almost certainly see his eyes. “You didn’t shout when my sergeant removed the ropes choking you, so that means you don’t believe that there is anyone guarding your retreat that could hear you, even with as much as sound carries in these tunnels.”

“That, and you only talk about Argent or your deposed king,” Steel continued as both mares gaped, one’s mouth opening and closing like a gasping fish on a dock. “It’s either one or the other. Which means that there can’t be much of an effective, senior command left, or you’d be naming one of them. And since your king is being taken care of—” Sabra didn’t miss the panicked look the two shared at that revelation. “—that means taking care of Argent is our job.”

“Anything else you want to tell us?” Steel asked, his cold tone becoming a bit more jovial. “Maybe the name of the commanding officer who let you two foals believe they were trained soldiers of some kind?” For a moment the pair were silent, and the the spitter spoke.

“Go rut with your mother, mud-pony,” she said, her words so fiery that Sabra wouldn’t have been surprised to see smoke form in the air had she still had her magic.

“Insults then. How very … clever,” Steel said, rising and stepping back. One of the mares spit at him again, though this time it fell short. “Very well. Sergeant?”

“He’ll live,” Dawn said, stepping away from the comatose body of the unicorn Sabra had struck. “He wouldn’t had I not been here, however. That was a heavy blow, spec.” She glanced in Sabra’s direction. “Though not undeserved. With luck, he’ll awake with a newfound respect for others. Or, failing that, some minor brain damage that makes him a more agreeable individual. But I’m far too good a doctor for that. Whether that’s a misfortune or not depends on one’s view.” As she spoke, several lengths of rope slithered out of her pack in the glow of her magic, tying the unconscious pony into a tightly-wrapped bundle.

“So you’re done?” Steel asked. Dawn nodded.

“Good,” he said. “Then let’s get moving. This time, though …” He turned toward Sabra. “I want you out front, spec. You’ve got the ears, and I’ll be keeping my headlamps off. No sense in getting ambushed by anypony sent to look for these three.” He shot a quick glance at the two mares. “Though from the sound of it, they’re not important enough to warrant anyone worrying about them anytime soon. Not when the Order has bigger problems.”

“Go to Tartarus, rock-licker.”

“Somepony might come looking for them,” Dawn said, glaring at the pair. “After all, they display such charming speciesism.”

“Coward.”

“As I said,” Dawn continued. “Charming.”

Steel nodded. “Spec? Anything to add?”

Sabra shook his head. “No.”

“Then let’s move out. Take point, and see if you can find where those two got in.”

“Wait!” one of the unicorns said quickly as they began to move, a hint of panic in her voice. “You are just going to leave us here? In the dark? We cannot make light without our magic.”

“Don’t worry,” Steel said, not looking back. “I’m sure somepony will come to collect you for your inevitable trial … eventually.”

“But … There could be iceworms, or rats, or—”

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry too much about them,” Steel said, slowing and finally looking back. Sabra slowing, watching as the captain stared back at the two mares, almost lost to the darkness already. “They’ll see you’re unicorns and … wait, they’re not speciesist.” He shrugged. “Guess you’ll just have to hope there’s nothing more to those stories than stories.” He turned forward once more. “Come on, team. Let’s go.”

“Wait! You cannot do this! How dare you leave us? You filthy rock-lickers! You and your families will burn! You hear me!? Burn!” The other mare began to shout as well, their cries overlapping and filling the tunnel with a cacophony of noise.

“Team?” Steel said, glancing at both of them. “We might as well run for a bit. No one’s going to hear us over that mess anyway. Sabra, take point, Dawn, middle. I’ll cover the rear. Go.”

Sabra nodded, dropping into an easy gallop, hooves steadily eating up the length of the tunnel. Only once he was underway, ears twitching as they hunted for any sound out of the ordinary, did he let his mind fall back on what Dawn had said.

You nearly killed that pony. But … didn’t. He hadn’t meant to, anyway. The blow had been meant to incapacitate, not kill. But if they had fallen, dead … Would I be at ease with it?

He couldn’t say. The last two days had been … trying, at best. Would one more soul fallen matter so much to me?

He slowed as the echoing yells behind began to fade at last, though still loud. He could hear the resonating return of his own hoofsteps coming ahead of him, which meant that the end of the tunnel, and the opening the Order unicorns had come out of, was close. Behind him, Dawn and Steel’s hoofsteps slowed as well.

I expect it would, he thought. Which means I’m fighting for a far better reason than he was.

The end of the tunnel was close now, the echoes of his hoofsteps reflecting back at him almost instantly. A few steps later, the soft glow of Dawn’s light bled into a shadowed hole against one side, the pipes around them lifting into the air or folding out of sight.

The opening they passed through, Sabra thought, taking a few steps into it and listening to the ring of his hooves. Narrower, and branching off at an angle like the others, though steeper. But at the same time, there was something else to the sound as well. One part of the echo was dull, the sound coming back slightly off from everything else.

He turned, glancing back at Dawn and Steel, then motioned with one hoof. This way. They moved to follow with faint nods. Down the tunnel, he could still hear the echoed screams of the two mares, but they sounded a lot less distinct now, little more than incoherent rambling.

Maybe they’ll come to an epiphany once they calm down, he thought as he began making his way down the side shaft, eyeing the narrow walls and tight cluster of pipes to his right. He was getting two results from his hoofsteps now, one the same deadened effect he’d heard before, while the other …

It’s this tunnel meeting up with one of the other, larger ones, he realized after a moment. That makes sense. This close to the center of the city, with the major passages coming out of the center, like spokes on a wheel, passing from one to another would be relatively short. Which means we must be close.

Sure enough, he could hear the deadened echo coming closer, and he slowed, eyeing the edge of the shadows made by Dawn’s light, he could faintly see a lip to the wall coming up on his left.

Once again he motioned to Dawn and Steel, this time for silence, and moved forward. A plain wooden door was set into the wall, unadorned save for a single, heart-shaped carving at its center. Which, he noted, had been marred by a singular burn mark cutting across the wood. A symbol of the former rulers of the empire, maybe?

There was no handle. He frowned, eyeing the door for a moment before pressing one ear up against it.

Silence. He waited to the count of five, straining as he listened for any sign that there could, in some way, be a rear guard, before reaching out and giving the door a light push. It let out a soft click, bouncing slightly under his hoof, and then swung inward, revealing a dimly-lit stairwell passage ascending up.

As well as a chorus of pipes, one of which he managed to place his hoof on before the now-free door could swing into it. That explains the bang I heard earlier, he thought, gently easing the door into the pipe with one hoof. He motioned to Dawn and Steel, waiting until they were in the doorway to show them both the door and the pipe behind it, flashing the sign for “Danger.” Both of them nodded.

With Dawn’s light so close, he spared a single glance at the frame the door had been resting in. It was actually smaller than the door, with some sort of mechanical latch built on the inside edge. A matching groove in the wood of the door showed where the latch had caught against it.

Different, he thought, before turning and starting up the stairs. They were small and dusty, the space tight and cramped. One of the pipes let out a loud gurgle as he passed, liquid rushing through it, and suddenly he realized he knew where they were.

The “legs,” he thought as he climbed upward. The central tower had been open at its base, most of the structure hanging over open air on several large crystalline supports that once again had seemed to echo the snowflake motif. That’s what we’re inside. One of those legs, climbing up to the tower proper. A faint chill ran down his spine as a memory of the fate of the last building with legs they’d gone on a mission inside came to mind.

Hopefully that isn’t what we do here, he thought as he continued to climb. For starters, that would do much more damage to the city.

Then again, if he could think of it, so could the Order. It may be worth watching out for.

He passed under a soft but dim light, noting the number of cobwebs crawling along it. Each of them was thick with dust.

Well … that’s a good sign. Dust means that nopony has been this way to clean. Which in turn means that there’s a good chance we’ll be able to move without being spotted.

Up ahead, the stairs finally terminated in another door, this one like its sibling down below, bare of handle or any adornment save the carving of the heart at its center. Again the carving had been disfigured, this time by a series of craters.

Somepony definitely doesn’t like that symbol. He put his ear to the door, listening carefully. Running water … airflow? Ventilation maybe? And … He could just make out two sets of faint, repetitive, thuds. Hoofsteps. But faint. And lacking the sharper echo that would mean they were in the same room. He smiled despite himself. He still remembered the first time he’d caught a fellow monk unaware with his ability to make such a distinction.

Focus, he chided himself, smile vanishing. He needed another meditation session. A long one, if his attention was slipping that much.

Worry about it later. For now, keep to the moment before you. The door let out a faint click as he pressed his hoof against it and swung open revealing … Another dimly-lit, dusty service corridor, he thought as he peered out. Just without stairs.

It also wasn’t quite straight. It stretched on in both directions, narrow and cramped, but with a just barely visible curve to it he wouldn’t have been able to see if not for how long it was.

Circling the interior of the tower. But likely not on every floor. Bolt had spoken about that once, about how much space was wasted internally when a structure ran hallways around the outer edges.

But in this case … He let his eyes slip to the piping that moved out of the shaft behind him and along the wall. They must have chosen to do it for this level because of the way the legs were built.

Interesting, but whether or not it was helpful to their cause, he wasn’t sure. He stepped further into the hallway, ears searching for the sound of the footsteps he’d heard. The floor beneath his hooves was solid, but coated with some sort of heavy cloth that gave a degree of softness to his hoofsteps.

It wasn’t hard to find another door that led deeper into the tower. Not far from the exit he’d used was a thin, tall, narrow door, lacking a handle like the others he’d seen. One ear pressed against it was enough to source the hoofsteps he’d heard as from a pair of ponies growing more distant by the second. A patrol, perhaps? Or ponies just passing by?

Either way, the sound was growing more distant. He moved back to the door to the steps, motioning for Dawn and Steel to follow through.

“Nicely done, Sabra,” Steel said, his voice so low it was almost inaudible. “We’re in. Dawn? Any traps?”

“No,” she said, shaking her head even as her horn glowed faintly. “Understand I’m not quite as good as Nova at this, but I didn’t feel any wards or enchantments along the stairs aside from what I presume were normal for the operation of the piping. There is, however, an extraordinary concentration of ambient magic around us, and what I believe are wards off in that direction.” She pointed down the hall to the left.

“A trap?” Sabra asked, but the captain shook his head.

“Not theirs, Sabra. Ours. That direction is the front door of the tower, if I have my bearings right. Which means …?”

“They have prepared for an army,” Sabra said, nodding. “Just as you hoped.”

“Just as we all worked for,” Steel said, returning the nod. “We dealt them such a blow last night that they’re under the impression that they must be facing a large force. Everything’s been pulled back here, to wait for a seige. Except …” Despite the helmet, it wasn’t hard to see that the old warrior was grinning. “They don’t know that’s where we want them.”

He turned to Dawn. “We won’t have much time before they start to wonder where our army is and send out scouts. Or Captain Armor arrives and gives them one. Dawn, what do you need for that gas to work?”

“We need to ascend,” Dawn said quickly, looking up at the service passageway ceiling. “The gas is heavier than air, so it will sink. For maximum dispersal, we’ll need to get as high in the tower as we can and disperse it into whatever air circulation system they have. If they don’t have one, we’ll simply need to let it out in an open area and hope for the best. I can surround us with a bubble that will keep us from being affected. The actual gas should wear off before long, while the effects will linger.”

“All right,” Steel said, nodding. “So we need to find a way up. Let’s circle around inside here before heading out. If we can find a passageway up that leaves us scurrying through the walls like rats, so much the better.”

“I’m not sure I appreciate being compared to a rat,” Sabra heard Dawn mutter as he turned and began making his way down the circular passage.

“Very dangerous rats,” Steel replied.

“Even so.”

The passageway was narrow, but not so narrow that he felt cramped. Not like some of the passages in the sewers. Here and there he spotted more signs of what the hallway was used for: A small tray set by a door here, a single small plate atop it alone and covered in dust. A forgotten, discarded tool sitting atop a set of pipes.

And a ladder, climbing up through a narrow opening in the ceiling alongside a thick set of upward pipes. Sabra motioned to Dawn before peering up it. The ladder extended upward in darkness before being lit at the very end. Much further than a floor away, unless the floors were much larger than normal.

It skips levels. That’s how they deal with the loss of space. He’d have to thank Sky for her impromptu explanations of space utilization on airships.

As he’d guessed, the ladder seemed to pass through multiple floors, the pipes breaking off in a small junction at each one. Below him, he could hear the rest of the team climbing after him, their hooves making the crystalline rungs ring faintly. A ladder made of crystal. That, he expected, would earn a mark of disapproval from Sky. It tasted of … what was the word she used?

That’s right. Overkill. Or maybe it had been overengineered. What was the difference again?

The thought occupied him as he followed the ladder up to its end, poking his head through an open, railed hole in the floor to see another interior crawlspace similar to the one below. Save narrower, and a bit further in.

Because we’re ascending, he thought, clearing way for Dawn and Steel and peering up and down the curved accessway. The tower narrows as we move toward its peak. Down one end of the hall, he could see another ladder climbing up, but on the inner wall.

Logical. One of the narrow access doors was nearby, and he moved over to it, careful to keep his hooves as quiet as possible. A single ear pressed up against the door told him nothing. Well, nothing save that there was little noise to be heard on the other side.

All that may mean is that any patrol or guard may be on the opposite side, he thought, lessons from the last few months of training taking over. Never assume that because you cannot hear a guard, there isn’t one.

Nova and Hunter had both taken great pleasure in teaching him that lesson. Repeatedly.

He turned away from the door as Steel pulled himself off the ladder. “Anything?” the captain asked, his voice barely audible.

Sabra shook his head, then motioned down the hall to the next ladder. There was no point in finding out if there was anyone on the floor they were on. Not at the moment anyway.

Steel nodded, and once more they moved for the ladder, Sabra taking the lead and climbing up the crystal rungs. The rungs, thankfully, weren’t slick, leaving him with little to do but climb higher and listen to the faint sound of his own breathing inside his helmet.

The next exit found them again climbing out next to the outer wall, in keeping with the slow, inward curve of the tower. Again they were in a dimly-lit service passageway, one slightly wider than the last, but filled with small trolleys. Storage, Sabra noted, taking care not to catch his Fimbo on any of them.

Once more, he moved to the nearest door, but this time he could hear noise though it before he’d pressed his ear up against it. Loud clinks and bangs, underscored by the faint rumble of running water and voices.

“—that will you?” somepony was saying.

“Get it yourself. My hooves are full.”

“So are mine.” There was another loud bang, followed by a cascade of crashing sounds.

Cutlery and plates. So they were behind a kitchen. That explains the trolleys.

He kept his ear pressed up against the door. Are these ponies friend? Or foe?

“This is disgraceful,” a different voice said.

“So you’ve been saying.”

“Why do we have to cook their food and clean up? The fault is not ours that the servants ran the moment things went crazy.”

“Shut up.” He didn’t have to be in the room to hear how tightly the words had been hissed out of somepony’s mouth.

“I am just raising the point! We are not unicorns, but we still are members of the Or—” The words cut off in a pained cry, overshadowed by what Sabra estimated were roughly two stacks of twenty plates each tipping over as someone crashed into them.

“Open that mouth of yours again with such dangerous speak, and I will seriously consider cutting out your tongue.” The voice belonged to the same one who had ordered the pony to be quiet earlier. “Better you than all of us if Argent or one of the other mages hears you speak. Am I clear?” There was a pause, and then much louder “Am I clear?”

Sabra couldn’t quite make out the mumbled response over the sound of running water, but it must have satisfied the pony in charge. “Good,” he said. “Now, let us return to work without any more talk that could see us thrown out on the street. Do any of you want that? To be at the mercy of these Equestrians? I, for one, do not intend to. So everypony shut your yaps and get scrubbing.”

For a moment all was quiet. Then somepony else spoke. “Do you really think that there are Equestrians out there?”

“Somepony took out all those posts last night. And no one has returned. The mages are worried.”

“What the citizens are saying cannot be true, can it? That Sombra is gone?”

“Shut. Up.” Again the command hissed out, only this time it was obeyed. “And someone pick up those plates.”

Sabra pulled his ear away from the door as the sounds of cutlery and plates cascading over one another resumed once more, along with subdued chatter that seemed more to pass the time than anything else. From by the ladder, Steel fixed him with a look that seemed to say “Well?”

He moved away from the door before answering. “Kitchen,” he said. “Six ponies, crystal from the sound of them.”

“Slaves?”

“Collaborators,” he answered, and both Steel and Dawn’s faces darkened. “Should we move for the next ladder?”

“No,” Steel said quickly. “Just crystal ponies? You’re sure?”

He nodded. “One stated they weren’t unicorns. The staff fled. During the battle with Sombra, from the sound of it. So the Order is forcing them to cook.”

“Naturally,” Dawn said quietly, her disdain clear. “And their collaborators find out exactly how close to the Order they really are.”

“Did they sound like they’d be sympathetic to our cause?” Steel asked.

He shook his head. “No, not from what I heard. They’re scared of us, worried about our presence. But they are still Order.”

“All right,” Steel said with a nod. “How quickly do you think you can take them all down? Consciously, so we can question them.”

His question caught at his lips. “You wish to question them?”

“The ponies who just served our enemies a bunch of food and know right where they are?” Steel replied. “You bet I do. Take that room, spec. Quickly and quietly.”

“Yes sir.” Sabra turned toward the door, feeling the familiar rush of adrenaline spill through him like a cold wave of ice-water. He pressed one ear up against the door again, listening to the crystal ponies chatter while they worked. Two on the right, he thought, drawing his Fimbo and extending it to its full length. Hoofsteps echoed across the floor, one of the ponies carrying dishes away from the sink. Island, I think, for the cleaning station. Two ponies by it. And two more … carrying dishes away? Or at least on that side of the room.

He would need to move fast to make sure one of them didn’t alert anypony else. They were alone in the room, he was sure of that. But if one of them got away, or their yells carried …

He smiled. He had a good idea how to avoid letting either happen. Fimbo at the ready, he gently pressed against the door, feeling it bounce beneath his hoof before swinging outward into the kitchen.

No one inside the room noticed. Ahead of him was a cleaning station, just as he’d guessed, water flowing from a large tap, one crystal pony washing, another drying. The faucet handle was barely tilted to one side, but the sound the water made filled the room. Two more were passing them dishes on the left, while two on the right were taking the dried dishes and placing them on large racks to be stored.

None of them were looking in his direction, and the nearest door he could see was a good twenty feet from the furthest crystal pony.

Perfect. He stepped into the room, his hooves silent against the crystal floor, and brought back his foreleg. One of the crystal ponies caught sight of him out of the corner of his eyes and began to turn.

Far too late to stop Sabra’s Fimbo from slamming into the faucet handle, knocking it to one side. Water practically exploded out of the sink with a roar, the dishwasher yelping in surprise and stepping back.

Sabra’s slide took out his rear legs, dropping him to the ground. A quick shove, and the dishwasher was up, flying uncontrollably into the dryer. Both went down in a tangle of limbs, but Sabra was already moving away, kicking up and over the cleaning station to get between his targets and the door.

One of them tried anyway, letting out a shout and lowering her shoulder as if to tackle her way past him. He swept her hooves from beneath her, dropping a hoof to the back of her head for good measure to help drive her chin into the floor. Not enough to knock her unconscious, but enough to daze her.

The mare behind her had been his next target, but when she fell to the ground, hooves over the top of her head, he settled for catching one of her hooves in his own and swinging her up and into the tangled dishwasher and dryer. All three went down in a pile of hooves.

A plate bounced off of his armor, skipping off into the kitchen and shattering against the floor. The last two ponies were backing away, each holding plates in their hooves and throwing them as quickly as they could.

It wasn’t fast enough. Not that any of the plates were large or heavy enough to stop him. He shattered two with his forelegs as they flew at him through the air, and then darted forward, hooves lashing out in rapid, light blows.

Both ponies fell back, dazed. He glanced back once, then flipped up and over the cleaning station, scooping up his Fimbo as he went, and bringing it around in sharp arc, one end striking the ground just in front of the nose of the pony he’d dazed. They stopped crawling for the door in an instant.

An orange glow wrapped around the faucet handle, turning the water back down to a trickle, the roar vanishing. The trio in front of the station finally extricated themselves from one another, only to look up and see both Dawn and Steel standing above them.

“Now,” Steel said, his gravelly voice low but no less threatening. “I think all of you can guess what will happen if any one of you so much as looks like they’re going to scream, but in case you don’t …” He held up one hoof, the spikes on his gauntlets snapping out around it. There was a loud crack as he broke one corner of the cleaning station off with a single blow. “Get the picture?”

“What do you want to know?” It was the dish dryer that had spoken, their magenta hooves shaking as they held them up.

“Floors. Positions. Ponies.” Steel’s voice was quick and clipped. Sabra glanced at the dazed mare he’d cut off, but her wide eyes were fixed on the green-clad earth pony. “Tell us where they are, and we’ll just tie you, gag you, and leave you in the service corridor.”

“And what if we don’t?” Sabra recognized the voice of one of the one who’d reprimanded the rest of the kitchen earlier. They rose, giving Steel a defiant glare.

“Well, you’re all probably going to prison as collaborators anyway,” Steel said, not even looking in the direction of the standing pony. “Unless some of you have even worse crimes for the empire to ascribe against you. Do you really want to be singled out as the one who tried to make trouble?”

He turned, staring right at the standing pony. “Well? Do you?” For a moment the pair stared at one another, and then the defiant pony slumped to the ground, scowling.

“Good,” Steel said. “Now … Who wants to talk?”

A few minutes later they were back in the service corridor, the kitchen staff trussed up, gagged, and left around the bend, where they’d be out of sight. Steel had, in a move that Sabra had thought was almost twisted in its cleverness, tied the captive ponies in a circle, limiting their range of movement so that if they tried kicking against anything but the floor, they’d be hitting one another.

“Old campaign trick,” he said as they moved to the next ladder up. “Should keep them quiet.” He gestured toward the ladder. “Climb. We need to go at least another floor up.”

Dawn nodded, though Sabra didn’t miss the way her eyes shifted slightly at the captain’s news. Are we simply going to trust what they told us? He had heard the pauses and catches in the collaborators’ voices, moments of hesitation and delay that all but guaranteed they were lying.

“Climb,” Steel said again, nodding at the ladder. “We need to move.”

Sabra nodded, though he couldn’t help but glance in the direction of the ponies they’d left tied up. Several of them were watching them leave. No doubt planning on informing any rescuers exactly where they’d gone.

Once more he began to climb, the ladder again starting on the inside of the wall and popping up on the outside several levels up. This time, the corridor was quite a bit narrower, and the curve that had been gradual down below seemed much sharper, the bend closer. We’re getting closer to the top.

He checked the closest door, listening for voices. Nothing, though for a moment there was a sound that could have been faint hoofsteps. A guard? Or just another crystal pony running errands? Whatever it had been, the sound had thankfully been distant.

He turned as Steel pulled himself off of the ladder. Dawn was standing next to him, clearly perturbed. “Captain—”

Steel lifted a hoof, cutting her off. “Sabra?” he asked.

“Nothing,” he said, shaking his head. “Perhaps a guard or somepony walking past distantly, but—”

Steel didn’t let him finish, signaling that the group should move down the corridor, ignoring Dawn’s signed protest and once again signing that they should move. Once more, Sabra took the lead, frowning as he pressed through cobwebs, the passage narrowing around them as various pipes overlapped with one of the strange pump boxes, similar to but smaller than the ones they’d passed in the sewers below. It let out a faint hiss, water rushing through it, and Steel cleared his throat.

“This is good,” he said as Sabra turned around, only to find himself almost shoulder to hip with Dawn. “All right—”

“Captain,” Dawn said quickly. “You must realize that you can’t trust anything those ponies had to say. Their interests run counter to our own.”

“I understand that,” Steel said with a nod, his eyes moving to Sabra. “Spec? What’s your analysis?”

“They lied, captain,” Sabra said, nodding. “Sergeant Triage is correct.”

“Lied about what, spec?”

For a moment he hesitated. “Sir?”

Steel eyes said he was grinning beneath his helmet. “You’ve got the best ears of any of us, and I could hear some of those pauses when they were thinking up fast ones. But when were they?”

“When …?” He threw his mind back, momentarily thrown off by the shift. If he knew they were lying, why—? Wait … “They showed … signs … of lying … when they were talking about ponies.”

The smile in Steel’s eyes seemed to grow wider. “And the rooms? The layout? What about when they were talking about those.”

“No …” he said, a smile of his own growing as comprehension dawned. “No, they did not.”

“Wait, so they didn’t lie?” Dawn asked, her attention jumping between the two of them. “Forgive me for not keeping up, but why wouldn’t they lie?”

“Of course they lied,” Steel said. “About the ponies. About the stuff they could think up on the fly. But the rest …” He glanced at Sabra.

“They were concerned with making up information about the Order,” Sabra said, running his mind over the conversation. “Telling us who was in what room, and how many ponies there were. But the captain is correct. They only gave signs of hesitation when talking about ponies, not locations.”

Dawn nodded, a look of understanding coming across her face. “They were so focused on telling us untruths about their allies that they didn’t bother or think to falsify facts about anything else.”

“Crafting a coherent narrative, especially in a short amount of time, and between several allies you can’t confer with is difficult,” Steel said with a nod. “In order to have the best chance of keeping their stories straight, the easiest way would be to lie about the ponies we were interested in.”

“And not the rooms,” Sabra said, giving the captain a more rapid nod as he let the thought roll through him. “Those details came quickly. Without hesitation. And they did not disagree with one another.”

“So unless all of them were paying close attention to one another …” Dawn ventured.

“We have a somewhat reliable layout of the next few levels,” Steel finished. “As well as a rough idea of what levels the Order does occupy. Sabra, how many levels up did they say the offices were?”

He paused, counting backwards in his mind to account for the level they were on, as well as the one they had passed. “Three levels up.”

“Then we go four. On the odd chance they were lying about that, too. Then—” His focus moved to Dawn. “We spring the trap.” His eyes snapped back, and Sabra felt a faint tingle of apprehensive pride roll through him as he met the captain’s eyes. “Lead us up, Sabra.”

“Yes sir.” He turned once more, sliding past the pump and pressing through a collection of old cobwebs that draped over his armor like strings of cloud. The higher we go, the less-used these passages seem. He brought up one hoof, trying to rub away some of the dust clinging to his chest, but only succeeded in smearing a track across the plate.

At least my armor is grey, he thought, stealing a quick glance back at Dawn and the captain. The dark, olive-green of Steel’s armor hadn’t been too shrouded by the dust, but the marring across Dawn’s pink armor was far more obvious. Even if he had been taking the lead, the dirt and dust they were encountering were leaving her with the worst to show for it, simply by virtue of the shade.

Then again, he thought as the passageway widened once more. That shade has struck me as too much in the past. I get that Sky wanted our armor to match our coats, but … He peered up the ladder well, eyeing the dimly-lit opening above. Pink, even subdued, seems a little attention-grabbing for how much sneaking we do.

He could hear voices before he crested the next floor, and he slowed, ears twitching as he focused in the sound. Deadened, so it’s through something. Access door most likely. Or a thin wall. From the tone they were raised as well, though not to a level that was an outright shout. Closer to somepony keeping their voice in check, he thought. Trying not to raise it but letting their emotion leak through.

Strain in spoken form. He eyed the lighting, checking for any signs of movement—shadow moving across shadow, or across light. There was nothing.

He pulled himself up, through the opening and out into a narrower passageway than the ones they’d passed through so far. The ceiling was lower was well. Because we’re moving up? he wondered. Or for some other reason? As before, there was a nearby door, and he moved over to it slowly, one ear twitching already at the muffled sounds coming through it.

Definitely a couple of ponies arguing, he thought as he listened to the sounds from the other side of the door. With some distress, as well. The voices were still muffled, which meant that there was at least one other door or wall in the way, judging by what it sounded the volume was like, but even so …

Somepony is displeased about something. But whatever it was over, it was keeping them occupied. And hopefully, against one another. He turned and waved toward Dawn, offering her the all clear signal and moving past the door, down the corridor.

He found the next ladder without issue, noting that this one actually tilted inward slightly, toward the center of the tower. Not remotely enough to be considered a set of steps, but enough that he didn’t quite feel like he was climbing straight up anymore.

Almost.

There were more cobwebs this high up as well, the signs of disuse and neglect all the more apparent. Twice a hoof threatened to slip free of the ladder as he placed it on a particularly dusty patch, and he waved down to Dawn and Steel, miming his hoof slipping to warn them before continuing on. And when he reached the top …

Nothing. He pulled himself out into the narrow passage, as cramped as the last. His ears twitched, turning this way and that, but the only sounds he heard was his own slow, steady breathing and the quiet clang of hooves climbing the ladder behind him.

The door came next, his ear pressing right up against the crystal and listening for the faintest sounds of movement.

Nothing. Not a breath, not a hoofstep, nothing.

He pulled back from the door, looking towards the ladder as Dawn climbed over the edge. He motioned toward the door, then tapped the front of his helmet, right where a horn would be if he had one. Magic?

Dawn focused for a moment, eyes narrowing and a faint wisp of orange lighting up around her horn that was matched by similar lines on her undersuit, but then she shook her head.

Good.

He waited until Steel had made his way into the passageway to open the door, just on the chance that the faint ring of crystal armor against the rungs would give them away, then slowly pressed the door open.

Only to be greeted by an ordinary, if somewhat shiny, hallway. Covered with a plush, pale blue rug that somehow still looked like crystal. It even sparkled under the light.

And yet, as he set one hoof on it, it still felt like a rug should. Soft, slightly cushioned, with a little give. Light sparkled as the strands moved around his hoof.

Focus. He pulled his eyes away from the strange covering, ignoring the question of how something that looked like crystal could be so soft. Part of him wanted to suggest that it was water, but—

Focus. He peered down the hall. It was wide and well lit, heading straight into the structure with doors on either side, as well as some oddly-angled hallways.

Wait, no … He stepped into the hall, leaving the door open behind him as he stared at the hallway junctions. It’s a snowflake. Just like outside.

Impressive. Their devotion to the architecture is … almost awesome. Doubtless it had made the construction difficult, but if there was a fulfilled function to it, decorative or otherwise …

One thing it did not allow them to do, he noted, was easily guess at where they were or see others in relation to their own position. I can only see the spoke, he thought. Anything off of it or around the curve will be out of sight.

Still, there was something at the “end” of the spoke, occupying the central point of the floor. He couldn’t quite see what it was, only that it looked like the hallway opened up into a larger room.

There was motion from behind him, and he pulled his head back to see Steel giving him a pointed look. He knew what it meant, and he signaled quickly with one hoof. “No foes seen.” Different from “no foes.”

The captain nodded, then signaled back. “Recon.”

Sabra answered the command with a quick “Understood” and ducked out the door, keeping his body low to the floor and his ears forward. He could hear … something. Chatter maybe, almost casual. But distant and muffled. And more … His ears flicked once more, eyes narrowing as he focused.

It’s coming from straight ahead, he thought, ears flicking back to their prior positions. And not in a way that says it is from somewhere nearby.

But it was still distant. Interesting. He moved down the hall carefully, stopping at each door to place his ear up against the wood and listen for a moment before moving on. No sounds emanated out from within, either in the slow rustle of habitation and papers being pushed across a desk, or the faint hoofsteps that would have marked someone moving around. Not even faint snores or sounds of somepony nickering slightly in their sleep.

Which meant that the rooms were either unoccupied, or that they were inhabited by somepony being absolutely as silent as possible. The former was much more likely.

He moved quickly, finding himself at the first intersection in moments. The branching hallways did indeed break off of the main spoke at sharp angles that bent toward the outer part of the building, and he paused for a moment before simply electing to poke his head around one corner near ground level and check the hall.

Nothing. The hallway he set eyes on was identical to the one he’d just traversed save in size, being only slightly narrower. Interesting. For a moment his mind shifted to the shape of the rooms around them, but then he jerked his focus back at the same time he did his head. Worry about it later. Or rather, don’t worry about it at all.

The opposing hall was much the same, and he glanced back down the way he’d come to see Steel and Dawn waiting by the door. He motioned to both hallways, gave the “no foes seen” signal, and then continued on, heading for the center of the tower.

The closer he came, the more he could hear through the opening, soft, muffled sounds that grew ever more distinct even as strange parts of them stayed muffled. Baffling, he realized as he neared the end of the hall. Magic baffling not unlike that in the clubs that performer plays at. There must be a spell or enchantment of some kind over the halls, or maybe over this central room …

He could see more of it now, and with a moment of recognition he understood. The tower is laid out just like the city, he thought. A central point from which all the roads—or in this case halls—originate. Which means that—There!

The space ahead of him was a circular chamber. Or, rather, shaft, the very center open and circled by a single rail. As he reached the end of the hall, his viewing angle widened, revealing a matching pair of spiral staircases opposite one another winding up and down the center of the tower.

Everything is centralized. Just like outside. The open space was empty, and he took a moment to look around before stepping out and glancing down the other nearby spoke entrances. They were as empty as all the other halls.

How large must this tower be? he wondered. How many ponies could it hold when the empire was at its prime?

The hallways checked, he then moved to the stairs, ears alert. He could hear hoofsteps moving up one of them, though distantly. Several sets. But distant. He could tell that much even through the baffling.

From there he moved to the railing and, as slowly as he could, eased his head over the lip.

A sense of vertigo threatened him almost immediately. The shaft narrowed as it rose, a glance upwards showing that in another floor it vanished entirely, but below them, it was open all the way to the main floor. It was an incredible feat of engineering talent and skill, almost enough to marvel at.

He would have, if not for the red banners hanging from every open surface. Or the small army of unicorns and crystal ponies spread across the ground floor.

Steel had been right: They’d been preparing for a siege. Barricades had been set up, Order ponies waiting behind them and chatting amongst one another. The defenses were layered, angled so that anypony entering the outer entrance would be forced into a small, tightly defended area—or as the captain liked to call it, a killbox. From there, each was laid out in successive rows, widening and then narrowing again around a grand staircase that seemed to be the primary conveyance to the second floor.

Box them in, then fall back into successive defensive positions, all while keeping your attacker in a small, confined area from which they cannot maneuver. It was exactly the kind of thing the captain had lectured the team about when discussing strategy. As well as something many historical records of battles in the Plainslands played out again and again.

Because it works. Any force trying to barge in the front doors would suffer immense losses. But if somepony got in behind the opposing line …

He turned and signaled down the hall, motioning for Steel and Dawn to approach. “Down there,” he said quietly as soon as they’d reached the railing, pointing. “It’s open.”

“Just like I thought,” Steel said, taking a quick look. “That’s a lot of defensive emplacements. Dawn?”

“I can’t feel any magic leakage from here,” she said, peering over the side. “But that’s to be expected. I would presume that there are a large number of aggressive, dangerous wards hidden by the defensive barricades.”

“The gas?”

“Give me a moment.” All three of them were peering over the railing now, as Dawn’s horn began to glow. Sabra let his eyes roll back and forth across the wider lower levels, catching sight of a number of unicorns on the higher levels. Some were even waiting around the railings.

Intending to ambush intruders from above, he thought, noting the more ornate robes and barding they wore, as well as the red bands around their horns. Superiors in the Order, maybe, giving themselves a safer vantage?

Dawn cleared her throat quietly. “A moment,” she said, her voice low. “I need to examine the airflows.” Her horn began to glow slightly, a look of concentration coming across her face.

“Take your time,” Steel said quietly. “We only get one shot at this.”

“I am aware, captain,” Dawn replied, her tone level.

Sabra stepped back, pulling his eyes away from the faint glow, instead glancing down the nearest spoke and then doing a slow circuit of the landing, peering both up and down as well as down each hallway spoke, ears twitching this way and that as they hunted for any sign of activity.

He saw and heard nothing. The only sign of activity came from the central shaft itself. What was this floor used for, I wonder? he thought as his circuit brought him back around to Dawn and Steel. The captain gave him an expectant look, and he shook his head. Before the Order? Offices? Guest rooms? Dining halls? Without peering into any of the doors there was no way to tell. But seeing the halls empty and in some cases encrusted in cobwebs was almost … sad.

This building is a work of art, he thought as the light around Dawn’s horn winked out at last, only to return in a series of short pulses. And under the Order’s hoof, it’s merely become a fortress.

Not that the two were mutually exclusive. The Fortress of Kito had been as much a work of art as it had been a stronghold in its time. Though currently it was more of a landmark, a beautiful if sobering reminder of the wars fought anciently across the Plainslands.

But again, that had been a work of art in that it was intended to be something incredible to behold and crash against. This tower, however … He turned again, trotting a quick circuit in the opposite direction and then stealing another glance down the central opening. It was meant to be a thing of beauty in appearance. Not of war. The glaring red cut of the banners strewn across the lower walls only reinforced the jarring nature of the tower’s current usage, their swaths ugly and harsh compared to the symmetrical, soothing lines they covered.

“We’re in luck,” Dawn said, stepping back from the railing, her voice just loud enough that he could hear it. She looked at the captain, her horn glowing once more, saddlebags opening and several small, thick-walled vials floating out. “There’s a current of warm air rising along the walls of the shaft, but the center is cooler and dropping. I’ll combine the vials in the center and hold them there while the gas drops down. I can’t say how well it will spread to other levels, but the spiral of warm air widens as it goes down. The gas should spread fairly well across the lower levels as it drops, then mix with the warm air and rise through the rest of the building.”

“Which means,” she said, her eyes snapping to Sabra’s. “That you will both need to stay close. I’ll provide a barrier that will wick the gas from the air, but if any of us is outside of it, a single breath could be enough to cause disorientation or even unconsciousness. Once we see the first ponies start to drop, we should have about ten minutes before the gas is diluted enough that its effects will no longer be harmful. Understood?”

From the way her gaze was fixed on him, it was clear who the question had been focused at. “Ndiyo, sergeant.”

“Good. Move over here then, so I can shield you, and we’ll begin.” A soft, whitish dome fell around her and the captain, barely noticeable but ever so slightly blurring their forms. Sabra nodded and moved under it. Only then did the glow around Dawn’s horn brighten, the two full vials floating out past the railing and to the center of the shaft.

“Now,” Dawn said, her voice sounding as much for her benefit as it was for his and Steel’s. “I just need to carefully, slowly pour one vial into the other at a steady rate—”

Sabra’s ear twitched as something changed about the muffled sounds he was hearing, a slightly shift that made him cock his head to one side.

“—just enough so that the two mix but evaporate before overflowing—” Dawn was saying, one vial ever so slightly tipping into the other, a faint haze of bubbles appearing at the top of one vial as the two began to mix. He pushed her voice out of his mind, closing his eyes as the shift in the sound grew more pronounced.

There was something different about the sounds coming from the central shaft, something that made his coat stand on end. Something hidden behind the baffles, something he wasn’t quite picking up, something …

His eyes went wide, head snapping up just as he heard the first shout of surprise. Not from below, but from above. Two Order unicorns, one blue, one red, were standing in shock on the stairway across from them, a level-and-a-half up, both wide-eyed, and both already lighting their horns, magic swelling forth.

He wasn’t sure what happened first. Only that he saw the flash from one’s horn at the same time that he saw the crystal railing bend and flex like a snake, twisting toward them. That he threw himself into Dawn’s side, the strength of the impact shoving her away from the incoming magic. The shifting, moving crystal railing cut through the air just missing his head.

Then a powerful concussive blast lifted him from his hooves as the other unicorn’s spell hit the ground behind him, the force flinging him out into open air, over the central shaft.

And then he was falling, wind whipping at his tail as he dropped after the vials.

Chapter 25

View Online

“Is it just me, or is the storm finally letting up?”

Hunter looked away from the controls, eyes falling on Nova as the young unicorn pushed himself up, one hoof moving to rub at his eyes and rapping into his visor.

“No,” Hunter said, letting out a slight chuckle as Nova’s still-weary eyes widened against the sudden impact. “It’s not just you. It has gotten a bit better out there. How was the nap?”

“Enough to remind me I’m still tired, but enough for me to be awake, apparently,” Nova said, pulling at his helmet before rolling his eyes and using his magic to undo the straps. “How long was I out?”

“About three hours. Enough for a single sleep cycle, I think?”

“Dawn would know,” Nova said, yawning as he pulled his helmet off.

“She would.”

“Anything interesting happen?”

“After you passed out?” Hunter shook his head. “Nothing but the storm.”

“What about the city?”

“Same every time I’ve looked,” Hunter said, bringing his eyes back to the view outside The Hummingbird’s cockpit. He could see more of the mountains now, and the clouds that had boiled beneath them for so many hours had finally quieted down, the fury of the storm burning itself out. The heavy winds had calmed as well … though they hadn’t faded entirely. “The storm in that direction doesn’t seem to be letting up, either.”

“Really?” Nova asked, pushing himself up from the bunk and sitting back on his haunches. “What’s that mean for us?”

“Unfortunately, nothing good,” Hunter said, sitting back in the pilot’s seat. At least this seat is comfy. “The weather’s clearing up beneath us all right, but give it a couple of hours, maybe a day, and it’ll be right back to being crook again as that storm bleeds out on us.”

“So … we’re getting a window of good weather, and then it’s going to be back to being rotten?”

Hunter nodded. “You got it.”

“Great.”

“Yeah. We went into the wrong line of work to take it easy, didn’t we?”

Nova let out a short laugh. “You did maybe. I didn’t have much of a choice.”

Hunter paused for a minute, pulling his eyes away from the instrument readouts and sparing a quick glance at Nova. “That’s right,” he said. “Sorry, slipped my mind for a minute there. Probably not what you expected when we found you in that jail cell in Appleloosa.”

“No,” Nova said quickly, shaking his head. “Not even close. Not just …” He nodded toward the control board. “This, but the whole ‘Guard’ thing.” He let out another curt laugh. “I figured you guys were there to haul me off to some prison someplace, or maybe to match the topiary in Celestia’s Garden.”

Hunter pulled his head back. “Stone? For thieving? Seems a little over-the-top, don’t you think?”

Nova shrugged. “I didn’t say it was high on my list. Just that I’d thought about it. Now?” He shook his head and let out another laugh. “I can’t imagine either of the Princesses doing something like that without really good reason. Discord-level reason.”

“Thankfully,” Hunter added quickly, turning his eyes back to the storm.

“Right,” Nova said. “But even then, sitting in that cell waiting for somepony to show up and haul me off, I didn’t see … this … happening. Work-farms for the rest of my life, maybe, but this?” He let out another laugh. “Get Princess Celestia’s student to send me back in time, and I wouldn’t believe it from my own mouth.”

His ears perked. “Really?” Hunter asked, turning to look at Nova. “You’re telling me if your own self showed up from the future, chinwagging about how in the future you’d be in the Guard, you’d think he was starkers?”

For a moment Nova was silent, head sidling back and forth as he weighed out Hunter’s question. “Yeah, I think so. Give me some leeway though, I was a thief. Joining the Guard?” He let out another laugh. “Yeah, I’d think I was starkers. I mean, what would you have said had some you claiming to be from the future popped up and said you’d be doing this one day?”

“Me?” Hunter shook his head and sat back once more. What would I have done? A glance down at the armor he was wearing was all he needed. “I’d have told myself I was out of my feathered gourd, that’s what.”

Nova let out another laugh. “Right, you see? I’m not the only one who’d think it was crazy.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say starkers,” Hunter added quickly, leaning forward once more and shooting Nova a look. “But at the same time, I had it pretty good in the Rangers. Sure, I never got to drive an airship, but past me? I wouldn’t …” He paused, words sticking in his throat for a moment as his mind jumped back. “Feathers. I wouldn’t even know what to tell him.”

“What?” For a moment Nova looked confused, but then Hunter saw the recognition in his eyes. “Oh sun above, Hunter. I didn’t—”

He shook his head. “It’s fine. You didn’t mean anything by it. It’s just … Tartarus. How could I tell him?” He sank back, limbs suddenly weak and dropping to the rests on either side of the chair. A familiar pang cut through the inside of his chest, still fresh from the anniversary just a few days ago. “I wouldn’t know where to start.”

“Would you …?” Nova’s voice trailed off, and he looked over at him.

“Would I what?”

“Would you try to change it?” Nova asked. “If you could? Sorry, I wasn’t going to ask, cause it’s kind of delicate, but … would you?”

“I …” He sat still for a moment before shaking his head. “I don’t know if I could. I mean, you can’t change the past, right? Not that we know of. Maybe I’d just try and tell her how I felt, just so she’d know. Or maybe I’d try and change things, but what if they did? Change, I mean,” he added quickly. “Maybe I’d never be on the Dusk Guard. Maybe somepony else would have taken my place. Maybe they wouldn’t have figured out what the Tam sisters were up to until it was too late. Maybe Equestria would be in a bloody civil war right now.” He shook his head. “I don’t know. Could I change it? Maybe? Maybe not? Maybe I wouldn’t be able to help myself from changing it. Who knows how many differences that could bring.” His hoof went to his head, only to pause when it met his mane, his customary Stetson still hanging in his locker. “Maybe I’d doom us all.” He went quiet.

“So … you’d believe yourself,” Nova said after a few moments. “Even the bad stuff.”

“I think I would, yeah,” he said, taking a deep breath. “Then again, maybe that’d change things for the better. Maybe I’d save Swift’s life and tell myself to join the Dusk Guard anyway. See if I couldn’t have the best of both worlds. But then … who knows what that would change? Maybe it’s a good thing we can’t mess with time. I can’t think of anything but madness coming out of it. You’d change one thing to try and fix something, but that’d change everything else, and before you knew it, you’d be trying to square a circle over and over again, and probably making things worse along the way.”

He shook his head again. “Sorry, Nova. I know you didn’t mean for your question to get so deep, I just …” He let out a quick sign. “It got me thinking.”

“Yeah, well I didn’t mean to bring up …” Nova’s voice faltered. “Well, you know.”

“You can say her name, Nova. I’m not going to crack a fruity. The past is in the past, and I need to live with it. The Creator’s let me have that much.” There was a heavy thunk as his hooves disengaged the autopilot, The Hummingbird bobbing against the wind in response. “But assuming I couldn’t try to change the past, or I went back even further, my past self would be pretty shocked to hear how things ended up, I think. Leave the Rangers? Join the Guard?” He tapped the throttle, the pitch from the propellers lifting as the airship began to move through the sky, leaving its stationary vigil at last. “I think I’d be halfway between believing it and thinking my future self was a shonky liar making a beat up out of something. Or trying to pull a wing down over my eyes.”

“Probably a good reason we don’t get to see the future,” Nova added, nodding. “Short of hints, prophecy and all that. If we knew the specifics, we’d probably mess it up.”

“Agreed,” Hunter said, shifting the control yokes and putting The Hummingbird into a slow, gentle turn toward one of the distant peaks. “But getting back on track … No, I don’t think I’d have believed myself. Not without a long, lengthy explanation. After all, I was a Ranger. The Guard were slow ponies who kept the peace in cities or stood around watching stuff. They never did anything. Rangers got to do the exciting stuff.”

“We brought down a building.”

“Right, well … That was before we were around, you know. I mean, maybe I could have convinced my past self we were more like the Wonderbolts, but even they’re more for show than anything useful.”

“Ouch,” Nova said in mock pain. “Don’t let them hear you say that.”

“What are they going to do?” Hunter asked, grinning as a faint sense of elation swept through him, brushing aside the pang from earlier. “Kick our flanks? I’d like to see them try.”

“You think you can outfly any of them?”

“Hey, I’m good, but I’m not that good. On the other side of things, though, flying is all they do. You and me?” He grinned. “We’ve got a lot more than that on our side. They take on any of us, they’d better bring the rest of the Guard. They’ll need the help.”

“And the medics.”

“Exactly.” Hunter eased the throttle back slightly, a faint feeling of drag rolling over him as the airship slowed. “We’d kick their flanks to the moon and back. They may be stunt fliers, but when it comes to fighting, we’re spot on. That’s why we’re out here in the cold hunting a shade while they’re back home.”

“So … they win?” Nova asked. Hunter glanced at him, taking in the look of mock seriousness on his face.

“Sure, until they try to brag at the next grand galloping gala about their jobs.”

“Oooh, nice spin. I like it.” Nova nodded, then pointed out the window. “So … we moving to catch up?”

“Sort of.” Hunter adjusted the sticks again, shifting The Hummingbird’s course by a few inches and eyeing the compass. “With the storm clearing up, we might be able to catch sight of something from the air if we’re lucky. Can’t hurt to try. If nothing else, it’ll be less snow we’ll have to walk through.”

“I’m all for that,” Nova said, nodding. “Stuff’s exhausting. Even with the armor.”

“It is.” Conversation died for a moment, Hunter focusing on the controls as he guided the aircraft over the breaking storm. Here and there the rolling clouds had finally broken apart, exposing brief glimpses of the ground below … not that there was much to pick out. The white surface was almost the same shade as the clouds that had made it so. A few times he even mistook the ground for simply lower clouds, eyes only picking up the difference when the newly-dropped snow sparkled under a ray of light.

Thankfully, it’d get easier as more of the storm broke up, so he wouldn’t have to worry about plowing the airship into it, but it was still a bit jarring to be caught so off-guard.

“Hey Hunter?”

It took him a moment to respond to Nova’s question, his eyes still fixed on the controls, double-checking to make sure nothing was out of line. The Hummingbird wasn’t all that difficult to keep track of, at least, not from what he’d been taught. At the same time, I’m flying something that weighs who knows how many tons above a breaking storm, with another storm at my back. It pays to double check. His last glance at their course noted against the maps, he turned toward Nova.

“What do you need?”

“Uh, nothing,” Nova replied. “I just had a question.”

Hunter paused. Then why didn’t he just ask? Which probably meant that the question was important, personal, or both. “All right. Go ahead.”

“You’re from Equestria, right?”

Oh. He couldn’t help but grin slightly. This question. “Spot on.”

“Yeah, that!” Nova said quickly as the words slipped free of Hunter’s mouth. “If you’re from Equestria, why do you talk like you’re from …?” He paused, flicking one hoof idly while his mouth opened and closed.

“It’s still part of the Griffon Empire,” Hunter said. “Southeast colonies.”

“So you’ve been there?” Nova asked quickly. “Lived there?”

“You want to know why I talk like a bruce from the back corner?” He was definitely grinning now, unable to hold it back. “Can you keep a secret?”

“Who am I and who do I work for?”

“Fair dinkum.” He bent down and engaged the autopilot, the lever sliding forward with a satisfying clunk. “Well, you’re right. It’s from the southeast colonies. The lower corner. Edge of the world, as some used to call it, not that it’s anything close, with Saddle Arabia right next door, but … Dinkum? I’ve never been there.”

“You what?”

Hunter let out a laugh at Nova’s shocked expression. “Never been, Nova. No hoof, no feather, nothing. Only ever seen the place in pictures. Never even been to the Griffon Empire. Or the Plainslands.”

“Then …” Nova pulled back slightly. “It’s all an act?”

“Act?” He shook his head, taking advantage of the motion to peer down through a nearby cloud opening, catching sight of snow-crusted trees through the breakage. “No, it’s me. I’m not trying to beat it all up, this is me. Straight dinkum.”

“Were your parents from there?”

He laughed again. “Good thinking, but no. Close though. My mentor.” Nova nodded, but said nothing, so he continued.

“See, back when I got my cutie-mark, I lived in Cloudsdale. Naturally, once I got it, I and my parents wanted to make sure I could make the most of it. Public education just wasn’t going to cut it. So, after some deliberation, my parents pulled me out of school and put me into an apprenticeship with a search and rescue team. And the pony I got assigned to?” He could still picture the gruff pegasus. “A tracker and weatherpony named Hawkwing from—”

“From the empire?” Nova cut in.

He nodded. “Spot on. Gruff, tough, old … and dang good at what he did. So me being a young, impressionable colt, I wanted to be just like him.” He let out a short laugh, smiling as stallion’s gruff face floated across his mind, a good-natured scowl almost permanently plastered on his muzzle. “Good old Hawkwing. Loved him like a father, almost. He was a bit like Steel: Gruff, a little weary. Tough. Had a wicked scar across one flank from a close-call with some sort of desert scorpion out on that side of the empire.”

“Anyway,” he said, the memory fading as he turned back to the controls. “I wanted to be just like him, and so I did what I could to learn everything I could from him. Including how he talked. I didn’t take the gruffness though—I tried, but it just didn’t stick. But then, after he’d passed on, I had a few other trackers I apprenticed under, picking up new skills, and then I ended up spending a summer with a friend of his, a griffon who’d come out to see what I’d learned from his old buddy. He was rapped to meet me, I was rapped to meet him … and the accent was even thicker. He was a lot more like me, though. Relaxed, affable, handsome—”

Nova let out a snort.

“Yeah, old Barkbeak—”

Nova’s snort exploded into a full-on laugh, and Hunter shot the unicorn a quick glance.

“Barkbeak?” Nova asked. “Was that a nickname, or …?”

“Real name, true dinkum. Barkbeak Grayden. Anyway, he ‘took me under his wing,’ so to speak, and helped me finish off my apprenticeship, then went home. But between him and Hawkwing …” He flicked his ears and gave Nova another grin. “The accent stuck. I like it. It’s me. Sure, I’ll bet I’d sound half-starkers to ponies actually living in the back corner, but I’m not from the back corner. I just had teachers that were, and wanted to be just like them.”

“And now you know,” he said, leaning forward and checking their heading once more. The clouds beneath them were really starting to break up now, having spent most of their frozen fury. “But seriously, keep it under wraps. There are still a few stories running through the new crops of Ranger cadets about how I ended up with my particular patois I’d really rather not drop truth to.”

“Huh.” Ahead of them, another clump of clouds broke apart, exposing more of the snow-swept mountainside, treetops and bits of rock here and there stubbornly poking through the fresh snow like stubble on a grizzled lumberjack’s muzzle after a shave. Hunter’s eyes could just make out fresh drifts of snow sweeping past the holdouts, frenzied bits of the storm that still hadn’t given in.

“Sky Bolt still asleep?” Nova asked, pulling himself up and stretching.

“Yeah, she is.” Hunter gave the closed door to the rest of the cabin a quick nod. “She was snoring a bit too.”

“You think Sabra minds?”

“I think I’m not at liberty to talk about fraternization of that level between teammates,” Hunter said quickly, pulling his eyes away from the breaking clouds for a moment to glance at Nova. “Though if there was anything of that level going on—”

Nova cut him off, holding up his hooves. “Not what I meant. Sorry.”

“Oh.” He brought his attention back fully to the sky ahead. A late bolt of lightning, the first he’d seen in nearly an hour and not nearly as powerful as those that had come before it, cut across the clouds, a faint rumble echoing in its wake.

“Yeah, I was … Sorry, not what I meant. That came out wrong. I apologize. They’re a cute couple, even if they’re both kind of shy about it.”

“Like you and that musician mare?” Hunter shot Nova a quick grin. “What’s her name again? Vinyl Sc—”

“We’re just friends, Hunter,” Nova said quickly, his voice flat. “Which I know I’ve told you at least twice.”

“Right. Friends.”

“Do I have to booby-trap your desk again?”

“You’d booby-trap the desk of a superior officer?” Hunter shook his head, still grinning. “I think that’s against regulations.”

“You’d never be able to prove it was me.”

“You just threatened to do it.”

“Did I?” Nova offered an innocent smile. “I don’t remember that. I feel like you’re picking on the poor, reforming thief here.”

“You’re starkers.”

“You started it.”

Hunter opened his mouth but then snapped it shut again. “Fair enough, I suppose. So what is the deal with you and Vinyl anyway?” Ahead of them the clouds were so thin he could almost see through them to the ground, and he settled his hooves on the controls. We might be able to drop under this storm in a moment.

“Eh.” Nova shrugged. “Not much you don’t already know. I robbed her back in the day. She recognized my voice, knew I was in the Guard now, and had gotten the notes from the court that I’d been caught and was working off my debt. She just wanted to know what the story was, really. We’ve hung out a few times since then, chatted and whatnot. But no, I’m not interested in her like that. She’s just … someone to talk with. Something almost normal, you know? Like you guys.”

“We’re not very normal, Nova.”

“More normal that most of what I’ve had before this.” Nova’s tone was quiet, almost contrite. “But no, in all seriousness, I don’t see her that way.”

“Huh.” He checked the clouds once more, than eased his hoof back. A little longer. “And what about her?”

“What?”

“Does she see you that way?”

Nova frowned. “Sun and moon, I hope not. I don’t think so. If so, she’s been pretty coy about it. But I hope not. Getting that thrown at me is the last thing I want right now.”

“Really?”

“I’ve got my reasons,” Nova said, holding up a hoof. “For starters, I’m still getting used to being a law-abiding pony. Romance on top of that would just be too much to try and cram in. And I’ve never had a relationship before—not anything serious or remotely real, anyway. In my experience, rumors and stories of debonair, romantic thieves are just that: Stories. Plus with how busy we are?” He shook his head. “No thanks. I mean, if it strikes me out of the sky or whatever like it does seem to some ponies, then yeah, I guess. But right now?” He shook his head again. “Too much going on.”

“I can see that,” Hunter said, giving Nova a nod. “We are really busy. Between the training, and the planning—”

“And the training again,” Nova added.

“Right,” Hunter said with a laugh. “And with all that, we’re still realizing how far we have to go now that we’re out here. Plus our regular Guard duties. Believe me, I know how busy we can get.”

“Well, that, and I’m committed,” Nova said, shrugging. “You or Steel? Sabra and Sky Bolt? Even Dawn? All of you can go do any other job any time you want. Bolt would have places lining up begging to hire her even if she didn’t have enough bits now to just go build her own workshop. Sabra’s a legend-in-the-making among the monks or something like that. I guess Dawn was retired before she came here, but that law is on the way out. Basically, all of you can have another life. Me?” He shook his head. “For better or worse, this is my life now. Until I’ve paid off my debt.”

What do I say to that? Hunter thought as Nova shrugged again, eyes focused off into the distance. Worse, he’s right. “Do you … regret becoming a Dusk Guard?” he asked carefully, his attention fully divested from the airship’s controls.

“What?” Nova snapped upright, focus coming back as his eyes locked with Hunter’s. “Sun above, no! I mean …” He sank back slightly, his tightly-held frame relaxing slightly. “Honestly it’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. It’s just …” His mouth opened and closed before recognition rushed across his face. “What I’m saying is that if and when I do decide I have time for romance, this—” He motioned to himself with a hoof. “Is what that special somepony will have to be all right with. I’m a Specialist Private in the Guard, and that’s the only thing I can be until I’ve paid off my debts. I’ve accepted that, and like I said, it’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. But if I found a special someone, she’d have to accept it too.”

Hunter nodded, briefly glancing at their heading before turning his full attention back to Nova. “I understand. You’re locked.”

Nova nodded in agreement. “Yeah. My choices put me here. Don’t get me wrong, I’m fine with that. But somepony else? They’d have to be as well.”

“You want my advice?”

“Sure.”

“All right.” He checked the autopilot, then leaned back and gave Nova his full focus. “That’s how a relationship works. Them being okay with it, I mean. Personally, I wouldn’t worry about it, or you’ll just raise a big noise for nothing. Just … be the best you you can be. In the end, I think that matters more than how much you make or whether or not you can jump jobs. And if it doesn’t, well … maybe that mare wasn’t for you.” He sat back, letting his attention slide back to the open skies. “And if that doesn’t work, date a griffon. They’re all about soldiering.”

“Oh ha ha.” Nova sank back even further against the heating vent, hing legs poking up slightly as he slouched. “But the rest of it is good advice. Thanks.”

“Not looking to date a griffon, huh?”

“Never thought about it,” Nova replied, resting his forehooves behind his head. “But seeing as I’ve only ever met a few, and one of those was your friend Blade …”

“Okay.” Hunter leaned to the side, toward Nova, resting his weight on the left armrest. “Blade is a wandering claw. She’s not exactly an ordinary example.”

“Still,” Nova said. “I’ve never thought about it, but I wouldn’t exactly call her ‘my type.’”

“Well, what would be?”

“No idea,” Nova said, the plates of his armor scraping against one another as he shrugged again. “But it isn’t Vinyl, lieutenant. Sorry to get your hopes up. Still …” Nova shifted slightly, sliding down on the bunk. “Thanks. That was good advice.”

“I’m a lieutenant, Nova. Advice is part of the job.” He pushed himself up from the chair arm, hooves going back to the controls and eyes to the world outside the cockpit. Storm’s almost cleared, he thought as he caught sight of even more of the mountainside. We should be good to drop now. Snow was sweeping around below them, but the dance was less violent, less aggressive.

Of course, it’ll be a whole different story once we’re in it. He reached out and took the controls in hoof, setting The Hummingbird to a gradual, slow descent down toward now broken storm.

Bring us close in, let Nova and I take a good look at things, and … He found his eyes pulling away from the mountain beneath them, toward the distant northern horizon, across the open peaks. Somewhere past them lay The Ocean of Endless Ice.

Blade was up there somewhere. I hope she’s safe, he thought as the distant mountains began to slip out of sight, concealed by their closer siblings. Not much is slipping past the border these days, not since she blasted through it, but the rumors aren’t great. Pirates, unicorn cults, and … Hey, wait a minute …

“Thinking about Blade?” Nova asked, the unicorn’s eyes following Hunter’s gaze to the north.

“I was,” he admitted. “Until I connected something else. You heard about the trouble they’re having up in the Ocean?”

Nova shook his head. “A little, but not much.”

“The papers don’t care much about it,” Hunter said, watching as the distant horizon shrank completely out of view. “But I’ve been doing some digging. Listening to the bush chinwag, keeping my ears close to the ground, speaking to a few border guards. And they’ve got this cult up there, made up of unicorns. Unicorn supremacists.”

“Okay. With you so far.”

“You know what they call themselves?”

Nova shook his head. “No.”

“‘The Order of the Red Horn.’ Sound familiar?”

Nova’s mouth opened as if to reply, but then he paused, his brow furrowing in confusion. “Wait a minute,” he said after a few seconds. “Isn’t that what the crystal ponies called Sombra’s supporters at the city?”

Hunter nodded. “Yeah. Order of the Red Horn. ‘The Order’ for short. I wonder if it’s related?”

“Could be,” Nova said. “I mean, sure, the place got torn out of time, but it was during a battle right? And the edges of the city were pretty close. Plus, didn’t the crystal ponies say something about the army being outside the city mostly when it happened?”

“You thinking stragglers made their way north and kept operating?”

“It’s possible,” Nova said. “Or their attitudes. Maybe not them personally, but their ideals. Another group of speciesists picks it up and adopts the name, something like that.”

“Or it could be entirely a coincidence,” he continued as Hunter finally pulled his eyes away, focusing back down on the mountainside. “I mean ‘Order’ isn’t exactly a word you can lay claim to. ‘Red horn’ wouldn’t be that original either with the right crowd.”

“It’d be a real sus of a coincidence,” Hunter said as the bottom of The Hummingbird began to slip into the clouds. “But it’s not impossible. It does raise one question though. If they are related, why haven’t we seen any of them around? You’d think they’d be as interested in the city coming back as we are.”

“Maybe they don’t know about it,” Nova said. “I mean, we only had advance warning because of the Princesses, and even they didn’t know when it was going to happen.”

“Wouldn’t they have noticed a bunch of Guard mobilizing?” Hunter countered as The Hummingbird dropped completely into the scattered clouds. “Assuming they had spies in Equestria, that is.”

“Would they?”

Hunter shrugged as the world outside the cockpit flickered, the clouds the airship was slipping through sliding from wispy to thick and back again with seemingly random timing. “I mean, there’s that whole ‘Violet Heart’ thing going on. Bet you a hundred bits they know we’re up to something. They might already know about the Crystal Empire and Mr. Shady Sombra here, the way that group seems to acquire information.”

“Fair point. Have the rest of the Guard found anypony yet?”

He shook his head. “They’ve questioned a few ponies here and there, but nothing solid. The few that were genuinely passing on information didn’t know to who or why. Some didn’t even seem to realize that they were dobbing in on something. Everything the Violet Heart seems to do is divided up into little groups and overlapping streams of information like … like …” He shook his head as the clouds around the cockpit finally receded in full, exposing a steep mountainside coated in fresh snow. A flash of movement caught his eyes, and he glanced down just in time to see something slip under some snow-covered trees.

“You see that?” he asked, leaning forward.

“What?” Nova shoved himself away from the vent, bending over the edge of the bunk to look down.

“There.” Hunter pointed with one hoof. “That cluster of trees. Something moved.”

“I didn’t. Sombra?”

“I don’t know,” he said, sitting up and turning the controls slightly to the side. The Hummingbird went into a lazy turn. “I just caught the movement. Brief flash. Could be him, though we’re pretty far west for that. The glacier is still that way.” He nodded in the direction of the distant ice-mass, discernible even through the thick new coat of snow like a crawling scar on the landscape.

“On the other hoof,” he said as The Hummingbird dropped lower, quivering slightly as it passed by a pair of crosswinds. “It could just be something else. Stray timberwolf, maybe. Rare, but possible anywhere there’s enough stray magic and trees. Iceworm, though that’s unlikely. Or even just wind moving a branch just right …”

They were close enough now, only a few-hundred feet from the ground, and he eased the controls back. “There,” he said, pointing with one hoof. “Tracks. Bipedal.” He could see the twin lines of staggered prints moving through the fresh snow, cutting across the ground from somewhere behind them.

“Not our guy, then?”

He shook his head. “No, not with a bipedal gait. Yeti, I’d guess. Probably got cut off from its pack during the swarm and hiding from the sound of our propellers.” He sat back up and gently eased the controls back, airship slowly tilting as they turned away from the small cluster of trees. “Best of luck to it. Anyway, Violet Heart.” The Hummingbird settled, leveling under his careful touch and heading for the glacier.

“They’ve set up a pretty carefully connected web. Or maybe web isn’t the right word, it’s almost like … veins. Lots of small ponies not realizing that they’re feeding information to a greater whole. Put it all together and …” He shrugged. “The Guard are trying, but most of the time it seems like they’re just circling one another. Been kind of a sore spot for some of them too.” He glanced down at Nova. “You used to be on the streets. You hear anything?”

“About the Heart?” Nova shrugged. “Nothing outside of rumor. I know there are places with individuals you can talk to about getting information, but since I’m a member of the Guard now, they’re not telling me without coercion. And since we’ve been so busy training …” His voice trailed off.

“I get it. It’s not our mission anyway,” Hunter said, eyeing a small crag of rock below them as wind whistled around it. “I was just curious.”

“Well,” Nova said, pushing himself up from the bunk, his hooves dropping to the cockpit glass. “If I do hear anything substantial, I’ll let you know.” He paused, then pointed at the hatch. “Can I get past? I’m feeling a bit hungry, and the sight of all that snow is reminding me I should eat something solid before I’m down trotting around in it.”

“No worries.” Hunter pulled his hooves from the controls and leaned back, letting him pass by. “Grab me something too, if you would.”

Nova nodded and opened the hatch, stepping out and leaving Hunter alone in the cockpit. From the cabin there was a faint but audible yawn, so high-pitched it was almost a squeak … and then the sound of somepony blowing air through their lips.

“Nova?” Sky Bolt’s voice echoed around the door. “How long have I been asleep?”

“Beats me,” Hunter heard Nova reply. “I just woke up a little bit ago. Got hungry.”

“Ooh,” Bolt replied. “Food. That sounds perfect. Toss me something, will you?”

Hunter mostly tuned out their voices as the pair began to banter, arguing over what sort of favor one would owe the other in exchange for the unexpected butlerage. Normal conversation for both of them, as far as he could tell. Still, he kept one ear cocked as he guided the airship forward, just in case one of them said something out of place.

The Hummingbird kept up its slow, steady pace, its airspeed a bare few knots against the wind. For a minute he considered increasing the throttle, but then he shook his head.

No point, he thought, eyeing the distant ground. There’s always a chance Sombra used the cover of that storm to double back. The faster I go, the higher chance I have of missing something. He pulled his eyes away from the snow beneath the airship, checking the path ahead and then ever so slightly adjusting The Hummingbird’s altitude, bringing them slightly closer to the ground.

Too close and you might miss something, too far away and you might not see a detail. He let out a half-hearted sigh. The age-old search and rescue problem. Which usually was solved by simply having lots of eyes on station. But when you’re a team of three with a single airship …

Well, you work with what you have, and hope it’s not too shonky. Especially when you’re searching a fresh snowfall.

On the plus side, if Sombra did make any movements, he’d leave an easy-to-follow trail across the fresh, pristine surface of the snow. Assuming he hadn’t figured out how to hide the channel his passage left. And assuming they spotted the depression from above in the first place.

But if he’d already made movements, the snowfall dumped by the storm would have as effectively hidden his trail as … Well, pretty much anything that wipes the slate clean, Hunter thought, his mind failing to find a good comparison.

Still, there was no sense in charging around blind. He let his eyes stop on a small clump of rocks poking through the packed snow, picking out details and double-checking to make sure there were no signs of the telltale black crystal growths their quarry seemed to like so much.

He found nothing. Just weathered grey stone, battered but resolute against the weather’s near-ceaseless fury. He moved on.

“Hungry?” Nova stepped over the hatch to the rear cabin, an apple held in the yellow glow of his magic.

“Sure.” He reached out and took it, Nova’s magikinetic field vanishing.

“Enjoy it,” Nova said as he took his first bite, the crunch sounding across the cockpit as sweet juices spilled across his tongue. “We’re on the last of our stock.”

“Really?” he asked, pushing the words past the apple in his mouth. “We’re out?”

“Of apples. That’s one of the last ones.”

He swallowed slowly and gave the apple a regretful look. “I’ll miss it when it’s gone then. I’d better chew slowly.” He took another careful bite—small rather than the large one his gut wanted him to take—and checked the ground along their route once more. Nothing. “Do we have anything else fresh left?” he asked.

“A few things. Long-term foods, mostly. Potatoes. Onions.”

He made a face. “Ugh, pass.”

“Yeah, I figured that was why there were more onions left than anything else.”

“Thinking of making breakfast?” he asked, swallowing again and pausing to lick some of the juice off the apple’s skin. His hoof already felt sticky.

“Yeah. Any suggestions?”

“We’ve still got cheese, right? And eggs?”

“Omelette?”

“Perfect for using up whatever scrap veggies we’ve got left. We won’t reach the glacier for another half hour, so—” Another satisfying crunch echoed through the cockpit as he took another bite, his stomach doing happy flips. “Might as well get a solid meal in. Unless something comes up, we’ll have the time.”

“You don’t think he doubled back?” Sky Bolt’s voice broke into the conversation, the mare herself following, brushing against Nova as she half-stepped into the cockpit. Nova’s nose, Hunter noticed, wrinkled slightly.

“At the moment, I’m not seeing any signs of it,” he said slowly, flaring his nostrils slightly and giving the air a slow, subtle sniff. Yup, there it is. A slight sour undercurrent to the sweet scent of the apple, vaguely drifting from Bolt’s direction. Great. Now how do I bring this up? “If we get to where you last spotted him and find nothing, we’ll expand our search east of that for about a mile, maybe. But if we don’t find any sign of him, we’ll head back toward the city at full speed and see if he didn’t slip past us.”

Bolt nodded, her eyes already on the controls. “Ready for me to take back over?”

An opening. He’d have to take it. “Actually, no,” he said, moving to set the apple on the control panel and only catching himself when he saw the slight narrowing of Bolt’s pupils. Right. Juice. Wood. Stains. He pulled the hoof back, and Bolt relaxed. “I can handle piloting The Hummingbird for a little while longer. Get some food, stretch your wings, maybe—”

“Ooh!” Bolt’s head jerked up even as her wings snapped out, catching Nova in the side and shoving him against the hatch. Immediately she jerked them back in, a guilty look on her face. “Sorry,” she said.

Nova rolled his eyes. “You break your armor, you’re the one fixing it,” he said, stepping back. “I’m going to get started on breakfast, then. Give my magic a workout.” He ducked out of sight, and a moment later there was a rattle from the rear cabin as he went to work.

“Right,” Sky Bolt said, an embarrassed grin on her face. “Well, if you want to keep flying her for a bit, that’ll give me time to go to some checks on the boilers and gearage. Make sure everything’s running smooth.”

“Right, that’s a good idea,” Hunter said, nodding. “You could probably freshen up, too.”

Bolt’s bubbly expression stumbled slightly. “That bad, huh? I saw you sniff the air. Is it that bad?”

“Well …” He took another quick bite of his apple. “We’ve all been busy, and you’ve been providing skywatch and flying us around, so you’ve been busiest of all, with missing sleep and all—”

“How. Bad?” Bolt’s face was serious now.

“When was the last time you showered?”

“Uh … I want to say three, maybe four days?”

“Well … better than I’d probably smell after that long, but …”

Sky Bolt nodded and brought a hoof up to rub at her forehead. “Right, right. Okay, I’ll go check the boilers and make sure everything’s running smooth, then I’ll get a shower in. Thanks.” She pulled her hoof away and stared at it in surprise, as if shocked by how greasy her coat was. And not the kind of grease that was normally in it. “Think Nova knows that cleaning spell Dawn uses on our suits?”

“Maybe?” He glanced at the sleeve of his own suit and the apple juice staining the rubbery material. “If he does, I should ask him about it. He and I are probably a bit ripe ourselves.” He gave the snow beneath them another quick look. Nothing but snow-covered slopes. Great for skiing … but that’s not what our quarry’s looking for.

“I’ll ask,” Bolt said, shaking her head and giving her mane a quick toss. “Then I’ll check the boilers, and then yes, I’ll get a shower in. You’re right: I could use it. And it would feel great. With your leave, lieutenant?”

She gave him a salute that was, if sloppy and tired, at least with the right hoof, and he returned it. Then she ducked out of sight, and he brought his attention back to the ground ahead of them. They were passing over another small copse of trees, the branches stiff and heavy with ice and snow. Glimmers of light sparkled up at him as they passed, a brief picturesque moment after the shadow of the storm.

Actually, all of this looks pretty nice, he thought, gazing out over the mountainside. Really nice. It wasn’t quite the same as the Whitetail Woods, or even the Everfree, but there was a rugged, desolate beauty that echoed across the harsh slopes. I can see why they called these the Crystal Mountains, he thought as more of the fresh snows sparkled beneath him in the sun. Storms, if it wasn’t for our job, this could almost be a scenic cruise. He pulled his eyes away from the snowy slopes moving up the side of the mountain, to where the angle grew so steep it would have taken climbing gear to ascend it without wings, past the still-somewhat-there clouds, right to the distant peak.

Poking up into the sky like a marker, he thought. From there, he moved his gaze east … down into the bowl between the peaks that was the start of the Glacier of Woe. A massive field of slowly compacting snow, pressed down over decades into pure ice. Ice that was slowly grinding its way out of a gap in the mountains, shoved onward by tens of thousands of tons of snow coming down behind it until it made its way down the mountain like a snake, carving a slow, gradual path to Lake Nieghagara.

What’s so interesting about the glacier? he wondered as he brought his attention back to the mountainside beneath them, checking for any signs of Sombra. Why come back to it? Is there something to it other than where we found him?

He leaned back against the seat, taking another bite of his apple and chewing slowly. It was almost gone.

Why come back? Why not bolt right for the city? Are you looking for something? Running away? What? Does it have something to do with the glacier itself? Those stories of it? Or is it just along your way to something else?

Even one answer would be nice, he thought, eyeing the core of the apple and then biting down, finishing it off with a quick gulp. The glacier itself was much closer now, faint details becoming apparent in its surface, more than just the endless bluish-white of the—

Wait a minute. He gave his hoof a quick lick and leaned forward. Off in the distance, there was a break where the light hit the glacier, a gap in the otherwise solid blue-white snow. Until a moment ago, it had been hidden by the curve of the glacier and the light, but now …

The binoculars made the break leap into sharp clarity, and he ran his eyes down it, a chill running down his back. That’s either the most starkers distraction I’ve ever seen … Or Sombra has no intent of doubling back on us. There’s no mistaking it, that’s … Something.

He didn’t know what yet. Just what it looked like. And what it looked like was …

An excavation. A massive crevasse where the glacier had been forced apart by large, crystalline growths.

His nose tickled as the scent of Nova’s cooking wafted into the cockpit. “Nova?” he called.

“Got something?”

“Yeah,” he said, nodding though he was the only one in the room. “Cook fast.” He leaned forward and adjusted the throttle, The Hummingbird’s propellers winding up as the machine fought against the sky. “You’ve got maybe three minutes.”

“Got it!” The clatter echoing from the galley picked up, along with the sizzle of cooking food. Hunter picked up the binoculars again and took a second look.

“What do we have?” Bolt’s sudden question, as well as her unexpected appearance, caught him by surprise. “The props wound up,” she said, water dripping from her wet mane and running down her face to a towel she had wrapped around her barrel. “I jumped out.”

“That,” he said, pointing at the already nearing discoloration and passing her the binoculars.

Bolt let out a low whistle. “Somepony’s been busy.”

“Somepony has. Made the most of the last few hours, from the look of it.”

“Did he crack the glacier open?”

“I don’t know.” She passed the binoculars back, and he took another look. “Maybe widened a crevasse? The ice around those crystals is all broken up, and it looks like the crystals themselves are evenly spaced.”

“Like supports.”

“Yeah. Like ribs on a ship.” But why? “Is this where you left him this morning when you turned around?”

“Umm …” Sky Bolt reared up, her hooved on the side of the controls as she flipped the maps down and checked their heading. “Looks like it.” She folded the maps back up and out of sight, dripping water on the cockpit glass as she took in the surrounding countryside.

“I think so,” she said after a moment, pointing at a trio of weathered rocks near the glacier’s edge. “That collection of stones looks familiar.” She dropped back down to all fours, shooting a disgusted glance at the small puddles of water she’d left on the cockpit floor. “When I turned around, there wasn’t a crystal growing out of the surface of the glacier.” She glanced at the puddles again, frowning. “I need to go towel off and suit up.”

He nodded, lifting the binoculars once more. “Do it. We’ve got a bit until we’re on top of this. Even if we don’t know what ‘this’ is, yet.” Which, he thought, means I should probably not just charge in. He lowered the glasses as Bolt backed out of the cockpit, still eyeing the water-marks that she’d left. What if it’s a trap of some kind for an airship? The idea seemed far-fetched, but at the same time … How much damage could one of those bits of crystal do if it was propelled into the gas-bag?

Dangerous or not, it’d take a lot of energy to send something so massive more than a few-hundred feet into the air. Even something small took a lot of energy to get to a decent height. He leaned forward, setting the binoculars to one side, and adjusted their course, The Hummingbird beginning a slow ascent as the glacier neared.

There, he thought as he let their ascent level off. Let’s see him hit us with something now. It was hard to gauge their actual distance from the ground, as the altimeter was based off of air-pressure, and the mountainside definitely got in the way of that, but … We’re at least four-hundred feet up. Hitting us from there would require some serious effort.

He panned the binoculars over the rift again in a long, slow pan, trying to pick out as many details as he could. Still can’t see how deep it is, but it’s at least a good fifteen feet across. And … He eyed the snow along the edges of the break. It was fresh and clean near the top, but after moving a bit down the icy surface, the color shifted, growing dark and dirty.

So there was an opening here already, he thought, moving his gaze to the ends of the crevasse. There the snow was still white and fresh, and the ice around cracked and uneven, as if forced up. But it’s been lengthened. Though not by much.

He frowned as he panned over the crack once more, eyeing the thick, heavy crystals that had forced it apart. Like the rocks poking free of the mountain, they were grey and silent.

Six on each side, shoving the ice back. Like the one we found south of here, but that was just one, and so Sombra could force himself out. So if he’s not doing that here … His frown deepened. Some sort of … excavation? Digging down into the glacier to find something?

A small shiver worked its way down his back, his gut clenching slightly. What would be so important that he would abandon his seat of power to find it?

Assuming that it was the shade digging for something, and not just hiding for … some reason. Not a lot to go on, Hunter thought. But what we’ve got isn’t exactly helpful either.

A clatter from the door pulled his attention away, Nova floating in a plate loaded down with a large yellow omelet. “Food,” he said quickly, eyes already darting to the chasm ahead of them. They were close enough now that it was possible to make out some of the details without the binoculars. “Whoa,” Nova said, stepping up to the glass. “That’s a lot bigger than the last one.”

“It is,” Hunter said, taking the plate and setting it on the console. “What do you think?”

“I think …” Nova’s horn glowed, and Hunter saw the colt’s eyes widen.

“What?”

“There’s no magic.”

“What?” He leaned forward. “What do you mean there’s no magic?”

“Well, there’s magic,” Nova said, horn still glowing. “But it’s faint. And deep. And those crystals aren’t pulsing like the ones we’ve seen before. They’re like the … dead ones, I guess, that we found around those worms.”

“Storms, I didn’t even notice that.” A quick glance through the binoculars confirmed Nova’s words. The crystals were static, unchanging. There was nothing pulsing through them like the other crystals they’d seen Sombra in before.

“So he’s gone,” he said, sinking back.

“Maybe.” Nova’s horn flared a bit brighter and then winked out. “There’s definitely … something … further down. But it makes me think it’s like some sort of … mine? Dig site?”

Hunter nodded, then reached out and pulled the throttle back, slowing The Hummingbird as the edge of the glacier neared. “That’s what I was thinking. And you said you can sense something down there?”

“I …” Nova shook his head. “Just ‘down there.’ I can’t feel anything else. No telling what it could be, or why, or even what direction it’s in. It’s just down there. Way down there.”

“But you can’t say how far down?

Nova shook his head. “Not from this height. Just ‘down there.’”

“Better than nothing.” He adjusted the throttle once more, slowing The Hummingbird almost to a stop, the crevasse in the glacier spread out before them. Now that they were so close, he could see down into the opening, stretching down into the depths of the ice. The gap narrowed as it dropped, but he could see additional crystal growths along the glacier walls deeper down, shoring them up.

And that definitely looks like some sort of dig, or excavation or something. But why? And how far down does it go? The early sun wasn’t in any position to help; the crevice turned to shadow pretty quick.

“We’re going down there, aren’t we?” Nova asked

“As crook as this looks?” he asked, looking at him. “Yeah. We are.” He grabbed his plate. “So eat fast, and let’s gear up.”

“Then we’ll go see what’s so important to Sombra he made us chase him across half a mountain to find it, and spent the last four hours digging his way down.”

Chapter 26

View Online

For a brief moment, Sabra was in free fall, wind rushing past him, hooves stretching out through the air as the massive central shaft gaped below him. Everything seemed to slow, time stretching out as he dropped, and some small part of him noted that far below, on the main floor, some of the Order unicorns were already looking up in shock as the ripple of the explosion that had knocked him from the balcony reached them.

Then his outstretched hoof caught the railing of the next level down, and time snapped back in an instant. His body swung forward, foreleg snapping to its full length as his whole weight came down on it and shiftinging his trajectory.

It was too much for his grip. His hoof slipped free of the railing, the world spinning around him as his momentum continued on, his head barely missing the underside of the balcony as he flipped over backwards. Again the air whipped at his chest as he pulled his hindlegs close, trying to regain some control even as a second explosion echoed through the shaft behind him.

He hit the next railing with his chest, the blow sharp enough to knock the breath from him both with impact and with a lance of pain from his bruised sides, but he dropped his forelegs before he could slip free, preventing himself from sliding back over and dropping again. If he did now, all his momentum stolen, the only way he would fall would be straight down.

And he wouldn’t stop until he hit the bottom.

Somepony was shouting. No, multiple someponies. Too many to focus on, but the tone was more than enough for him to go off of. The stealthy part of their mission was over.

Move! Now! Ignoring his body’s sudden screams for breath, Sabra shoved out with his hind legs, tucking his head in and flipping himself up and over the railing. He came out of his roll on his hooves, eyes and ears alert. Standing not three feet away was an open-mouthed unicorn dressed in familiar barding, eyes wide with shock.

They were too close to get a spell off in time. He crossed the distance in a single, low bound, one hoof sweeping his Fimbo from his back and bringing it up and around in a blow that shattered their jaw and lifted them from their hooves. They flew back, slamming into a wall with a heavy thud before sliding limply to the floor.

He was already moving on, snapping his staff to its full length and running for the stairs up. As he did, a large slab of crystal fell past in the main shaft, shouts of alarm echoing from below. More debris followed, and as he watched, the stairs he was rushing toward shifted to one side, a loud chorus of cracks echoing through the air as the crystal began to break apart.

A flash of motion from his right caught his eye, and he ducked, throwing his body to the ground in a slide as something whipped through the air where his head had just been. The crystalline carpet ate at his speed, and he kicked himself back up again, whatever had nearly struck him whistling through the air and hitting the ground just behind him hard enough that he felt the balcony shake.

He spun, staff up in a parry, only for a dark-red shape to slam into his block with enough force to send him sliding back, purple lines flaring across his suit as he strained to hold the blow.

It was the stallion he’d attacked coming off of the railing. Somehow they were standing once more, eyes and horn glowing with an angry red fire that matched both the red color of their barding and the blood draining from their shattered jaw. They let out a soundless scream, the lump of crystal they were holding in their magic—A bench?—shoving him back further as they pushed.

He twisted his Fimbo, ducking low and bringing the far edge of the staff around and behind the magikinetic bench, his opposition stopping and instead suddenly assisting the forward motion. With a gurgled cry, the bench and unicorn controlling it both surged forward. The magic field vanished a moment later, the unicorn letting go in a panic and stumbling as they tried to stop, but it was already too late. The bench crashed to the ground harmlessly as Sabra whipped around, bringing the staff out and slamming it into the side of the unicorn’s head at full speed. They hit the ground, and this time they didn’t get up.

He spun away, again heading for the upward stairs. He could see faint glimpses of some sort of magical battle going on—hear it too—but was too low to do anything about it. A bright flash lit the air, and he heard a cry of pain. A moment later, as his hooves hit the steps upward, a body wearing the red-and-black barding of the Order plummeted past him, screaming. Then there was a bright flash, and they vanished … only to reappear across the balcony from him and slam headfirst into the crystal with a crunch that made him want to wince.

Teleportation does not cancel momentum without excess energy. Bolt had spoken with Dawn about that. And it appeared the Order unicorn hadn’t had energy to spare.

He thundered up the steps, his lungs gasping for air as the shouts below grew even louder. He sucked in a short, shallow, gasping breath, but held it, not wanting to risk further. Where did the vials go? Ahead of him was the landing to the level he’d almost managed to land on, and he jumped, reaching it in a single bound.

“Look out!”

It was too late. The balcony ahead of him flashed, and the moment his hooves touched it he lost all traction, the surface as smooth as ice. Friction-free spell! He twisted, trying to keep as many of his hooves under him as possible, then pushed straight up. It sort-of worked—one of his legs slipped out painfully from under him. But by pushing against the weight of the crystal, not against the friction it normally provided, he was able to push himself up in a half-hearted hop, enough to carry him into the next set of stairs up.

“Clever.”

Instinct and hours of training took over. He kicked off of the steps, his mod flaring and carrying him high upwards and to the side before the voice had even finished speaking. Don’t talk, Steel’s voice said from the back of his mind. Fight.

He twisted his torso around in the air, landing away from the steps on the open balcony, lungs burning. He sucked in a greedy gasp, eyes searching for the source of the spell … only to be forced to move again as several nearby benches and a decorative stature surged toward him.

Four, he counted, jumping over two of the benches and kicking off a third. The statue—some mare, hoof raised in a salute—swept all three aside, shattering one of them into two pieces before passing by him.

There! The one controlling them was standing on the other side of the balcony, an unconcerned look on their face and a silver glow to their horn as they brought all four—no, five now—items swinging back. An open door was behind them, revealing an elaborate office of some kind, and with a jolt, Sabra realized he recognized his opponent.

It was the same face he’d seen floating above the tower, ruling over the city in Sombra’s absence. Argent.

“How did you get in here?” Argent asked, holding absolutely still even as his magic moved. Sabra ducked, skipping off of a bench moments before it could pin him against the wall. For all that was going on, for the shouts and yells of panic from down below, the unicorn could have been discussing his order with a waiter for how calm he sounded. The statue swept back, and Sabra threw himself forward, sweeping his staff around and pushing off of it, throwing himself at Argent.

A wall slammed into him, shoving him back and throwing him wide. It took him a moment to realize what it was. Air, he thought as he watched everything ripple. That was a blast of air. Tightly controlled.

He didn’t use magic on my armor, Sabra thought, spinning as the statue swept past him again. He slid across the carpet as he landed, springing again as Argent brought two of the benches back, their crystal sides scraping one another as they tried to crush Sabra between them. He used it on the air around me.

“You’re very curious, mud-pony,” Argent was saying as behind him, more doors began to open, other Order unicorns rushing out but not moving to aid their leader. “I heard someone say that your armor resists magic. Very like a lesser being, trying to fight against its betters.”

Two more benches joined the fray, and then a silver glow began settling on his armor, jerking him off balance as he ducked back. The magic field rolled off of his armor like tar, trying to stick but ultimately sliding away, and Argent frowned. “It would seem this was—”

Sabra reversed directions, rearing up and striking, his body burning with the force of his mod. The impact of his hoof shattered the stone bench that had passed in front of him, breaking it cleanly down the middle and tearing it free of Argent’s control. The fragments scattered across the balcony, one narrowly flying by Argent’s head and causing the unicorn to step back in surprise.

Sabra fell back, opening the distance between them and dropping into a careful, ready stance, one that gave him freedom to move to a wide selection of other positions, but more importantly one that gave his chest the most relaxed position to breathe with, to catch up with the tight pressure screaming for air that he’d faced since his fall.

Argent’s missiles fell back as well, several dropping into a guarding position close by his body, the others—statue included—taking up wide flanking positions. Argent himself hadn’t moved, but he narrowed his eyes. “Interesting. You seem to have better control over your innate magic than most.” Sabra lowered his body slightly, ears twitching as he listened to the sound of hoofsteps both behind, around, and above him. Then he smiled.

“Wrong! Not an earth pony!”

Argent spun, multiple unicorns near him lighting their horns as Captain Song jumped from the stairwell, slamming into the ground and shoulder checking one in the side with enough force to send them flying down the hallway. Sabra darted forward, watching as two of the closest benches to him began to move in his direction, the rest swinging toward Steel. He feigned a dive to his left, the benches swerving, and then jumped, pushing with all his might to launch his body out into the open air of the shaft … where he collided perfectly with the statue of the mare Argent had been lining up for a shot on Steel, kicking off it with enough force to send it flying downward, and launching himself back over the balcony.

“Kill them!” Argent barked as Steel brought his forehooves down on the crystal, a titanic boom echoing out alongside a physical ripple in the crystal, a thrumming vibration that made the whole floor shake. Unicorns stumbled even as they began to light their horns with returning magic, spells going wide. Steel rushed forward, hitting the closest to him and, with a backwards glance, tossing him up into the air.

Right in Sabra’s path. He twisted, flipping his rear hooves to the front and kicking off of the stunned unicorn, sending them rocketing back into the ground even as he threw himself up and over several other badly aimed spells. Then he was down beside Steel, both of them standing back to back in the center of the clump of shocked mages.

Two of the unicorns fell almost instantly as he and Steel swept outward, the captain crashing through their magic screens with brute force. Magic bolts bounced off his armor, cries of shock and dismay rolling through their ranks.

“They are resistant!” Argent cried as Sabra slid under a nearby unicorn’s blow. His Fimbo rose so quickly it made a faint whistle in the air, the side striking his foe’s cheek with enough force to shatter bone. “Avoid casting magic directly upon them! Cast laterally!” Sabra’s hooves rang as his staff collided with a magic barrier, a long crack appearing in the shield but the defense holding.

He used the force of the impact, shifting his weight and using the shield as a pivot point to push his whole body up with, flipping up and over the Order mage. Their eyes widened as he came down behind the shield, staff ready to strike … and the mage vanished in a flash of purple light, teleporting away. His Fimbo slammed into the floor, parting the carpet.

“Lord Argent!” somepony shouted. “The defenses are falling!”

Sabra spun just in time to see Argent vanish in a flash of light, his careful array of missiles dropping to the floor. Several of them came back up wrapped in different colors of magic, flinging themselves forward, and Sabra again called on his mod, watching the needle dip even as strength flooded through him. The statue of the mare shattered into dozens of pieces as he met it head on, his Fimbo punching into the crystal and breaking it apart.

“Form!” somepony in among the unicorns was shouting. “Form and coordinate! Remind them of their place!” Unicorns began teleporting out of their path, clearing a wide area around Sabra and Steel, one filled only with the bodies of their fallen allies.

They’ve above and below, Sabra thought, ears twitching as telltale snaps of teleportation echoed around him. At least fifteen of them.

Then, with a blur of magic, there were at least fifteen in front of him.

Two months ago, he would have been caught by surprise. A month ago, he would have been alarmed. Currently however …

He dove forward, ignoring the first three illusions he came across and charging through them without a second thought. He’d seen them appear, so they couldn’t be the real thing. The fourth he came to was breathing, and he took its legs out from under it, a unicorn letting out a cry of pain as they tumbled to the ground, the illusion they’d been hiding under jumping aside but otherwise not reacting.

A flash of light at his side caught his eyes, and he jumped, bringing his staff back beneath him and blocking a powerful, sweeping blow from a halberd. He dropped in the lee of the swing, pushing out with one hoof and sending his foe’s weapon sweeping wide. They teleported away before he could follow-up and capitalize on the blow, however.

Not that it mattered. There was no shortage of targets. The illusions were all around him now, circling but not attacking, their hooves and motions silent. Don’t get surrounded. From experience, it made him an easy target for ranged strikes. But the illusions moved with him, silent and staring, their eyes leaking purple clouds in a way that made them look sick.

One dove forward, moving to strike, and he let the attack fall through him. A hoof shifted behind him, and he brought his Fimbo back in a block. Something he couldn’t see collided with the metal, a shout of pain ringing out as an Order mage appeared out of the air. Their weapon dropped to the floor, and Sabra kicked, catching them in the gut and throwing them back. They broke through several of the illusions. He moved to follow, but a green glow slid over the floor beneath him, and his hooves began to sink into the crystal like it was mud.

He jumped, rear hooves slipping free of the now near-liquid floor with a slurp. Only to immediately begin to sink back into the floor as soon as he touched down.

Further, he thought, ducking then jumping again as another unicorn lobbed a ball of fire past him. The spell has a center. You just need to get clear of—

His hooves touched solid carpet once more and he spun, sweeping his staff through the surrounding illusions and forcing a unicorn hiding among one of them to duck back to avoid the whistling weapon.

“Fire!”

Sabra looked up to see a cascade of beams roll out from a knot of unicorns at Steel. A barrier flashed into being around him moments before the volley hit, shielding him and sending a number of the beams ricocheting off in all directions. Cries of alarm rang out from the group behind the barrage as their magic erupted in a cascade of detonations, and Sabra took advantage of the distraction to dart past his circle of illusionary attackers.

They reappeared almost instantly, before he could locate their source, once again surrounding him, faces fixed in snarls and thin streams of purple leaking from the corners of their eyes.

“For Lord Sombra!” Their voices echoed in unison, and then two of them darted forward, hooves up and at the ready. He ignored them, moving for the side, and—

A blow snapped his head to the side, and he staggered, staring up at the illusion in shock ever as another blow caught his hind legs. Both the illusions darted back even as two more stepped in, swinging at him with wide abandon. He ducked the first, blocked the second with his staff, the impact making the metal ring.

A twitch of his ear caught a hoofstep, and he swept the Fimbo back again, once more blocking a blow from an invisible assailant, only barely turning aside another strike from an illusion with one hoof. He was on his hind legs now, staff and forehooves engaged, dancing with every step as opponents invisible and illusionary struck at him, the occasional spell flying by for good measure.

“You cannot win.” The illusions’ voices echoed as one, rolling around him even as he twisted to block another invisible blow, barely catching it in time and catching a glancing blow from another illusion on his side. “Our magic cannot be matched.”

He jumped, lashing out at three attackers at once. His staff caught his invisible assailant, the blow glancing but enough to draw a curse from them as they fell back, but the other two simply passed through the illusions harmlessly, making them laugh.

Whoever they are, he thought as another attack slipped past his defenses. They’re close by enough to be able to move their illusions in reaction to my every move. His invisible opponent was closing in once more, and he stabbed out with the staff, forcing them back even as more blows rained on his armor. Close … close …

“Surrender, filth,” the illusions were saying. “And we will be merci—”

The words cut out as Sabra hurled his staff, all of the illusions going wide-eyed as one a split-second before his staff vanished into the air, a pained cry following in its wake. As one, the illusions doubled over, clutching their chests with one hoof.

I missed, Sabra thought as he shot forward. I was aiming for the throat. He brought his hooves up as he passed through the invisible bubble before him, catching sight of a pair of unicorns standing close together, one wide-eyed and frozen in surprise as Sabra dove through her veil, the other holding a hoof to their chest, a spitting image of the dozen or so illusions he’d left behind. They had just enough time to let out a startled cry before Sabra’s hoof caught them across the chin, snapping their head back. Several more blows followed, the last an overhead blow that drove the stallion’s head into the floor with an impact he felt through his rear hooves. Outside the veil, the illusions vanished, and he spun, sweeping the other unicorn’s legs from under her and then jumping over her as the invisible foe he’d been tracking attacked once more.

Blood sprayed from the unicorn’s side as his attacker missed, plunging their dagger deep into the mare’s chest. The veil winked out as their magic faded.

Sabra swung, his staff whistling through the air, only for it to stop with a bone-jarring crash as it slammed into the neck of his invisible attacker. Their magic winked out as well, revealing an older-looking stallion with a look of shock on their face, neck bent at an unnatural angle. They slumped to the floor, and Sabra felt his stomach twitch in horror.

He shoved the reaction from his mind, whipping around as more magic flew at him, this time striking the ground before him and ripping the carpet up, peeling it back and trying to fold it over him. He darted back, the carpet crashing over the three ponies he’d just incapacitated like a wave and wrapping tightly around them.

Steel was around the circular balcony from him, locked in battle with a trio of armed unicorns, his armor bearing scorch marks and cracks but a trail of bodies behind him. And the pack of unicorns that had thrown the volley earlier seemed to be collapsing, eyes glazed over in looks of shock and surprise as their bodies gave up. It wasn’t until he noticed Dawn standing behind them on the steps, a tiny needle clutched in the glow of her magic, that he understood what had happened.

He moved as another spell roared across the carpet where he’d just been, an unnatural freeze following in its wake. Rapid-fire cracks sounded as ice and frost formed across the ground, The sweeping beam followed Sabra as he jumped back, darting left and then right. My armor may resist such a chill, he thought as the beam narrowly missed his hooves. But the cold and ice could still be overwhelming. His hoof came down on an icy patch as he dodged once more, and this time the spell swept over it.

His hoof went numb, a deep chill rolling up his leg even as he yanked it back. Pain followed a moment later, a tingling prickle, like hundreds of tiny needles were stabbing at his flesh all at once.

He pushed the pain aside, diving behind one of the stray, overturned benches that Argent had been using earlier and putting its flat side between him and the beam. A moment later, frost wrapped around the edges of the bench, cracking pops sounding in its wake as it thickened into ice. The beam was sweeping back and forth now, rapidly crossing the front and sides of the bench, ice slowly building up in layer after layer. If he moved to either side, or up, the caster would have him in moments.

Then I must move with my cover. He braced his back legs as best he could, ignoring the burning pain from his one rear hoof, and pressed both his forehooves against the underside of the bench. He could feel the chill of the frozen crystal even through the covering on his hooves. Then, with a deep breath, he called upon his mod and pushed.

The bench flew forward as if launched from a cannon, right down the path of the beam. Some of the magic slipped past, striking him in the chest, and he winced as the chilling cold pain seemed to lash through him, sucking away his breath.

Then the magic winked out as the unicorn casting tried to duck, only for the bench to clip them in the shoulder, sending them sprawling across the balcony. Sabra was already in motion, moving in a low leap even as the unicorn’s eyes fixed on him once more. Their horn began to light up, a telltale bubble appearing around them as they began to teleport … just as Sabra swept his Fimbo across the space between them.

The staff collided with the tip of the unicorn’s horn, and the unicorn let out a scream of pain, raw magic surging out of their horn as it cracked, bursting into bolts of arcane energy streaked down across their body and the balcony. The teleport sphere pulsed and warped, jagged streaks of magic jerking through it and distorting the view inside. Sabra snapped his Fimbo back as the unicorn twisted, screaming in agony as their body folded in impossible ways, and then vanished.

Only to reappear in the open air several feet away, their form distorted, with too many sides showing at once and their scream still echoing. With another crack they vanished, only to appear again, and again, and again, each time faster and faster, their scream rising in pitch, the bubble they were in distorting and stretching until it was barely a thin, colored line stretching from one end of the balcony to the other, jumping and jerking so quickly it was almost invisible. Sabra took a step back, watching as the world past the line seemed to fold in on itself, warping and twisting in ways that made his eyes hurt.

Then, with a final, almost deafening burst of magical energy that echoed through the tower, the line disappeared, the screams of terror going with it and the world snapping back to normalcy like a rubber band returning to its original shape. Silence reigned in the wake of the detonation, all parties seemingly frozen in place and staring at the last location of the now-missing Order mage.

Until Steel dove forward, bringing his armored gauntlets across a pony’s chest, slamming them back against the outer rail of the balcony. A second blow sent them tumbling over the edge with a scream, and then the battle was in full chaos once more. Sabra spun, pulling his staff back and checking for new assailants.

He found them almost immediately. Two more unicorns were charging down one of the spokes toward the balcony, both with horns aglow. One was levitating a sword with a thin blade, similar to a rapier, while the other was surrounded by floating orbs of some kind, likely magical in nature. Both were looking right at him, eyes narrowed as they galloped down the hall. He took a brief moment to check the area around him, listening for any signs of closer, more immediate attackers or dangers to Steel or Dawn, but there were none. Both had their own fights well in hoof from the look of things, Steel with sheer power, and Dawn with magical finesse.

Very well, he thought, settling into a crouch on three hooves and flipping his Fimbo in front of him. He let it come to a stop resting on his fetlock, balancing, then cocked his hoof at the two unicorns. The message was clear: Come. I am ready. The two unicorns obliged, both picking up speed and lowering their heads as they charged toward him.

The one on his left acted first, bringing her rapier up and vanishing in a flash of light as she teleported. A faint pop followed by a rush of wind from his right side warned him moments before her blade stabbed out, and he twisted, bringing his Fimbo across and up and knocking the blow to the side.

Just in time to shift his weight again as the other unicorn attacked, one of the three orbs circling him firing forward and narrowly streaking past Sabra’s hip. It continued on, punching a hole clean through the railing around the balcony and before coming to a sudden halt, hanging in the open air.

A second later it darted back, widening the hole it had made on its first pass as it moved for Sabra’s core. He stepped forward, narrowly blocking another darting blow from the rapier-wielding unicorn, the orb passing so close he could feel the wind of its passage tug at his tail-hairs.

There was a unicorn on the Night Guard with a similar trick, he recalled, though she’d used much smaller orbs. In addition, he’d been certain that hers were simply orbs held in a magikinetic field. Here? There were no such assurances.

He feinted, shifting his body as if he was going to step back but instead darting forward and shoving the mare’s rapier aside with one armored foreleg. Her eyes widened in surprise at the move, but only barely, her horn flashing, the mare teleporting away before his staff could strike. She flashed back into existence to his left, blade already lashing out in a quick, narrow blow.

He twisted, kicking his body free of the ground and rolling in the air, the blade passing by harmlessly above him. One of the other orbs launched out at him as he landed, this one moving in a tight, sideways arc. He kept one eye on it even as he turned aside another blow from the mare’s rapier, only for her to teleport mid-strike and reappear practically on top of him, drawing back her blade in a quick slash that barely missed his neck. He brought his elbow back, hoping to catch the mare in the side, but she vanished again, and then everything went sideways.

Or rather, the world went sideways, down flipping to somewhere off on his right and yanking him off-balance. He staggered, sliding across the carpet, only for down to go back to normal, again throwing him off-balance as the mare with the rapier appeared once more in a flash of light.

This time she did score a hit, red-hot pain cutting across his foreleg as the rapier found its mark. His Fimbo knocked the blade away almost instantly, but he could see the faint sheen of blood along one edge as the mare darted away.

Still, the wound burned rather than throbbed, and the blood seeping around the cut in his suit was minimal. The blow had been glancing. He’d gotten lucky.

The second orb had already darted back to its master, the mage keeping his distance. That pulse, where gravity changed, Sabra thought as the three of them eyed one another for a moment. He’s used the orb as the center point for the spell. Is it an artifact, or some sort of distance channeling?

Both the Order mages moved again, the stallion launching the first orb straight at—No, Sabra realized, slightly to my side—and the mare vanishing in another teleport. Rather than step out of the path of the first orb as it crashed toward him, bashing aside an unconscious fellow Order member with a bone-crunching impact, Sabra jumped up and into its path. The orb passed by beneath him, almost instantly switching directions back toward its master, even as Sabra twisted against in mid-air, catching the mare on the inside of one foreleg with his staff. A glancing blow, but one that made her retreat all the same.

But not jerk back in surprise. Either she was using magic to deaden the pain, or she was seasoned enough to know not to flinch.

Then, as the stallion sent out the third orb, this one smaller and quicker than the other two, the mare narrowed her eyes, and the slim rapier burst into flame, the metal glowing red-hot. Then she vanished in a flash of light, appearing in front of Sabra and delivering a rapid hail of strikes so quick his eye almost couldn’t follow them.

Almost.

His staff was a blur as he knocked her blade aside again and again, standing his ground even as the mare’s eyes widened in surprise and then took on what looked almost like grudging admiration. But not quite. He could feel the seething contempt simmering beneath them. Just as he could hear the faint hiss of the final orb circling around behind him.

He didn’t wait to see what it would do. With a quick touch of his mod, he launched himself up, twisting and kicking off of the ceiling before coming down behind the mare. She brought her blade up just in time, flames rolling off the blade as she turned a blow from his Fimbo aside, while behind her the final orb exploded in a hot flash of flame, steam boiling into the air as the ice on the carpet boiled. Even with the mare between him and the explosion, he could feel the heat from the sudden flash, though both mages seemed unaffected by it. The orb darted back to its owner, air rippling in its wake.

So one that’s either unknown or just a battering ram, one that can mess with gravity, and one that makes explosions of heat, Sabra thought, fending blows from the mare as the second orb darted back in. This time he was ready, and he jumped once it drew near, already twisting so that he was properly aligned when “down” changed again. The sudden shift did pull his leap slightly askew, but being ready for it, he was able to adjust by the time his hooves touched down again, staff at the ready to block the mare’s next attack.

Which he did, turning her blade aside at the last moment as she probed for a gap in his chest armor. The tip of the rapier screeched across the crystal panels, leaving a long, charred scratch in the material. He felt the heat from the burning blade through his suit, a warm line across his barrel. The mare let out a snarl as she flashed away.

The wound on his leg was still burning, but he hadn’t seen too much additional blood, which meant, if he was remembering properly, that it was shallow. He ducked his head under another slash from the rapier, ears flicking as he felt the heat of the blade wash past them.

If I merely defend, they will wear me down, he thought as the mare almost scored another hit on his armor. The other mage was readying for another attack, shifting to a different position. I need to attack; throw one or both of them off-balance. The needle in the corner of his vision was at half; there was still enough charge left for a few uses of his mod if he kept it light.

I just need an opening. Again the mare teleported, this time several times in quick succession, and he brought his staff up, whirling it in a circle above him and driving her back.

From the corner of his eye, the other mage struck, once more launching the heavy orb at him on a curving, arcing path that made it clip a stray bench and send it spinning across the floor.

There! It was his opening. He waited, moving as if he hadn’t noticed the heavy orb streaking toward him and then, moments before impact, hopped.

It wasn’t much of a hop. In fact, it barely lifted him at all, just enough to lift his hooves up off of the ground by a about a foot or so, enough so that he was starting to come back down just as the orb reached him.

Which was when he called on his mod, strength surging into his limbs, and drained the battery in a single instant, kicking down with his hind legs as hard as he could. His enhanced hooves met the top of the orb, pushing down …

And the orb blasted into the floor, crystal shattering as it powered onward, tearing a deep, gaping wound that gave way to light as the orb broke through to the next level down. Sabra rose up, the strength leaving his body, reddish lines fading from his suit as the mod went completely dead, its power spent. But the mare had pulled back in shock, caught off-guard by the sudden shift. And to the side?

The stallion’s head had snapped down as equal reactions had taken over, the amount of magic he was using to manipulate the orb not nearly enough to prevent such a forceful hit from whiplashing his own neck. As Sabra landed, crouching and then springing forward, the other two orbs whipped out, the stallion bringing his head up with a look of alarm.

They both struck at the same moment, Sabra’s staff slamming into the stallion’s side even as the first of the two remaining orbs pushed out, shoving everything away from it. Including Sabra and the stallion controlling it, dulling the force of Sabra’s own strike.

The third orb detonated a moment later, heat washing over him, but he was already dancing back, his ears warning and then allowing him to catch the other mage’s rapier with his staff just before it would have plunged into the gap along his back-plates. He shoved back hard, pushing the mare into another teleport before following the off-balance orb mage, slapping his staff against the returning “pulse” orb and sending it sliding off toward another part of the balcony.

A hot sizzle was his only warning as the other mage’s rapier narrowly missed his face again, sliding past his visor and filling his eyes. He slapped it aside with his staff, but the feint had given her ally time to step back again.

I can’t take aggressive actions against both at the same time, he thought as he ducked to the side, hooves sliding in what ice was left on the carpet. The mare’s rapier slashed by again, this time scoring a burning groove across his left vambrace that thankfully came nowhere near his undersuit. And Steel and Dawn are both still dealing with their own battles. He could hear spells being cast a level up, along with shouts that seemed to indicate Dawn had the upper hoof, and across the balcony the constant crash of breaking crystal said that Steel was more than capably taking his foes apart. As well as being separated by distance.

He danced around another swipe of the mare’s blade, keeping just ahead of it while eyeing her counterpart. One orb down, he thought, noting the way the unicorn was keeping his distance. He’s not confident in his melee abilities without it, or perhaps at all. The mare teleported again, and he blocked, the impact leaving a black streak down the side of his staff.

There. The orbs were circling out again, this time in a much wider arc. He’s either going to recall them when they’re behind me, or at some point far along the arc so that they come from behind. While she— The mare in question appeared before him in a flash, blade flashing in an array of quick, fiery strikes that he turned aside. She keeps me occupied.

But they didn’t know of his special talent. He could hear the faint hiss of the fire-orb circling to his left, its path wide, but able to close at any moment. He kept his eyes forward, flipping and spinning his staff to block the mare’s rapid strikes while settling into a rhythm, a pattern that she would hopefully recognize in mere moments.

Now! The hiss behind him suddenly swelled in volume, the orb changing directions and rushing toward him from behind. He couldn’t hear it, but it was likely its remaining partner was as well, or perhaps a hair earlier, to pull him in before incinerating him.

And with the change, he dropped his staff into a new stance, moving forward in a jerk. The mare’s eyes widened as her next attack struck, digging a deep, hot groove across his shoulder plating. Then his staff was behind her, jerking her forward as they both pirouetted to keep their hoofing, dancing around one another … and exchanging places.

The mare’s look of surprise and shock were matched by a sudden cry of alarm then as she was yanked back by the gravity orb, Sabra’s staff almost slipping free of his grip with it. She vanished a moment later, heat searing his body as the flame orb erupted.

There wasn’t time to admire his work. He spun, galloping toward the other mage, who was standing by the wall with a look of disbelieving shock on his face. His horn flickered as Sabra neared, throwing up a desperate shield between them, one that shattered the moment Sabra slammed into it. The mage let out a cry of pain, recoiling, only to be cut off as Sabra’s Fimbo slammed into his jaw, his head, his shoulders. His legs were the next target, each snapped aside with almost bone-breaking force. The mage fell forward, letting out a faint grunt of pain as his chest hit the ground.

Sabra didn’t stop. The rain of blows continued, his staff blurring as he struck again and again, stopping only when the stallion’s eyes took on a glassy look. For a moment the mage’s battered head hung there, wobbling back and forth, eyes fixed on some distant point … and then it simply toppled forward, eyes closing as they hit the ground, beaten senseless.

A shriek of rage was his only warning that the other mage was back, and he brought his Fimbo around just in time to deflect a furious stab, redirecting it just in time so that the blade skipped off the side of his helmet. With a flash the mare teleported once more, appearing some feet away, eyes burning with rage. Then she spoke, a single word ripping out of her mouth like an ember spat from a fire.

“Filth.”

He smiled, though she couldn’t see it. “No,” he said, flipping his Fimbo and once more giving the mare a gentle “come” motion with his hoof. “Zebra.”

With a scream, the mare launched herself forward, her own hooves glowing with magic as she leapt across the balcony, rapier extended before her. Sabra met her charge without a word, spinning and not even blinking in surprise when she teleported moments before impact, appearing at his side. A quick shift of his hoof flipped his staff around, knocking her blow harmlessly to one side.

Again she teleported, appearing this time at his other side, again aiming for a gap in his armor. Once more he batted the strike aside, taking a deep breath in response to the mare’s wide-eyed yell of frustration.

Together, you stood a chance, he thought, his limbs moving with perfect synchronization as he parried strike after strike. He was barely shifting his rear hooves now, entirely in balance, the pain of his injuries a dull reality at the edge of his senses, but no longer part of his focus. The mage let out another shout as she moved to strike home, only for her blow to be turned aside in such a way that she stumbled, her chest meeting the end of Sabra’s staff in a light, but not debilitating, blow.

She teleported again, her attacks growing more frantic with each passing moment. Several attacks more, and another strike of his own slipped through. Then another, and another.

She’s panicking, Sabra thought as the strikes grew more wild. She is unable to accept that she is losing this fight. She doesn’t know how to respond. She was teleporting with more rapidity, too, though doubtless she didn’t realize the effect was spoiled by the constant, yowling scream coming from her mouth as she tried again and again to catch him unawares.

An attack. Another block. A parry. A quick strike. Again and again. The mare’s carefully held stance began to collapse.

Now. He stepped forward, meeting her next strike with a powerful blow that nearly snapped the blade of her rapier even as it threw her completely off-balance. Before she could teleport away he brought the staff back, catching her in the leg and upsetting her balance further.

Then, it was nothing but a rain of blows, his forelegs working like pistons as he struck her again and again, battering through her weak defense to land blow after blow against her barrel and sides. Finally, he brought the staff around, spinning as he pulled what little magic had regenerated from his mod, and struck the mare a blow in the chest that sent her flying across the balcony. She hit the far wall and slumped to the ground next to her compatriot, her rapier clattering to the ground, its fire spent. There was a faint moan as she tried to rise, one hoof held to her chest, and then she went limp, unconscious.

A thunderous impact from across the balcony made him turn, staff at the ready, just in time to see Captain Song using a massive piece of crystal that appeared to have been broken from a wall to shove his final two opponents back up against the balcony rail, pinning them against it. Steel stepped back, eyeing the two unicorns as they struggled to push the titanic bit of crystal away and free themselves.

“Bet you wish you had some of that earth pony magic now, don’t you?” Steel asked. Then he reared up and brought his hooves down hard against the balcony floor. With a sharp crack the floor split, breaking cleanly in a circular line.

Both unicorns screamed as the railing they were pinned to, along with the heavy crystal holding them in place, broke free and fell out of sight. A deep boom seconds later marked the end of both of them, unless one or both had remembered to teleport.

Given how quickly and abruptly the screams had stopped, however, that didn’t seem likely.

He gave the floor a quick look, checking for new assailants but finding none. For the moment, the only Order nearby were those that were lying motionless on the ground, either unconscious or—his gut twisted slightly—dead.

“Sergeant Triage?” Steel called, head twisting. “Sergeant!?”

“Up here, captain.” Dawn’s voice echoed from the next level above, and a moment later her hooves rang against the crystal steps as she began to make her way down. “I’ve secured the Order unicorns above. They won’t awaken for some time. Are either of you injured?” She was, Sabra noted, showing a number of burns and chips in her own armor, and there was blood on one vambrace.

“Armor took most of it,” Steel said, speaking quickly before looking in Sabra’s direction. “Spec?”

“Cold injury on my rear hoof,” he said, quickly trotting around the destroyed balcony in the direction of the captain. “But based on how it feels, it doesn’t require immediate medical attention. Cut on my left foreleg.” He held the limb out. “Light.”

“Is it still bleeding?”

“No.”

“Then for the moment, we’ll let it lie,” Dawn said, her eyes moving to Steel. “Argent?”

Steel shook his head. “No idea where he popped off to. But we’ll need to track him down if he’s running for it.”

“What if he leaves the city?” Sabra asked.

Steel shook his head. “As long as he’s free, he’s a threat. Dawn?” He turned, looking at the mare once more and then frowning as she stumbled down the last few steps, her hoof slipping. “Are you all right?”

“A sprain,” she replied, shaking her head as she recovered her balance. “Painful, but not debilitating, and a reminder. You were right, captain,” she said, coming to a stop next to both of them. “There are indeed situations in which something more reliable than a length of rope may be desired. A thin length of chain would have been … appropriate.”

Steel nodded, but didn’t appear to want to comment on it. “We’re good to move then?” he asked, looking at them in turn. “Then let’s move down. Dawn? Pop a filter around us for that gas. Triangle formation, Dawn on the left side, Sabra in front, at a trot. We see anything remotely hostile, I want it taken down fast, understood?”

This time he did wait for their nods, and Sabra gave his quickly. “Good,” Captain Song said, straightening. “Then let’s move.”

Sabra nodded again and took the lead, moving to the next set of spiral steps and down them. As he did so, he shot a quick glance over the railing, down at the distant ground floor. Dozens of unicorns were stretched out in odd poses, lying in place. Dawn’s gas had done its work.

“How are we going to search this entire tower?” Dawn asked as they reached the next level. It was much the same as the ones above it, though for the most part untouched by the violence that had been visited on the upper levels. Barring a few notable holes along the balcony above them and in the ceiling, including one that had left a trail of destruction behind it that looked to have gone through several walls. “These levels only get larger as we go down, and this tower is massive.”

“We can’t,” Steel said, glancing down one of the spoke-like hallways as they reached the next set of stairs. “There’s simply not enough of us without abandoning other parts of the city. At this point, we have to hope he hasn’t just run and hidden, and that he’ll come to us.”

The steps shook underhoof, a chiming, resonating vibration rolling through the whole tower. Sabra paused, but the shiver was already gone, as if the building had just wanted to stretch slightly. If it begins to collapse … But the motion hadn’t felt like that, and he’d been in a building that wanted to collapse before. This had felt like … Like a dog shaking itself before it stretches, perhaps. He resumed his pace down the steps, ears swiveling and hunting for any sound.

Then he found one. A deep groan, low and rolling, began to make its way up the structure, rising through the structure like the call of some ancient beast, and he froze again, his body quivering in tune with the sound.

“What is it?” Dawn asked quickly. “Is the structure collapsing?”

“If it is, we didn’t do it,” Steel said, but Sabra shook his head.

“No,” he said, shooting both of them a glance. “It doesn’t … feel right … Not for that.” The groan was still sounding, the steps still shaking. It was almost like the building was … sick. “It’s something else.”

Then the interior began to dim, the ambient light emanating from the crystal walls growing dark and grey. Far beneath them, the floor lit up, but then went dark again as the light seemed to slide up the walls, a glowing band of energy that picked up speed until it faded somewhere several levels down from the team. A matching glow came from the top of the structure, passing them by and vanishing at the same place. Then the glows came at the same time, and began to pick up speed.

“Captain,” Sabra said, watching as another glow faded. “Do you think that could be—”

“Who else? Move!” Steel surged forward, forcing Dawn and Sabra to move quickly to catch up. “Remember the briefing? Sombra used the crystal ponies as batteries!”

“Do you think that’s what he’s doing?” Dawn cried as they galloped down the stairs. “This tower sounds as if it’s dying.”

“Well, I doubt whoever made this place wanted it to be used for this,” Steel answered as they passed another floor. The walls were greying now, the soft blue shades replaced by a lifeless, drab one that reminded Sabra of ash. “Come on!” The bands of light were moving faster now, coming with more rapidity.

Then, as Sabra’s hooves touched the floor where they were vanishing, the bands stopped, the groaning fading with it, a terrible silence falling over the building. Slowly, spots of blue began to come back into the walls, the surface glowing once more, though weakly, as if the building itself were recovering.

“Hold steady,” Steel said quietly, his voice low. His voice against the unnatural silence made the hairs on the back of Sabra’s neck try to rise on end, pressing against his suit. The silence felt like a physical thing, a sudden presence pressing down on them.

The floor they’d come to was only a few up from the ground floor, and much more open than the floors before it. A large door occupied one end of the hall, opposite the entryway on the ground floor. So large and ornate, in fact, it almost looked like—

A public hall of some kind, Sabra realized. It has to be. Maybe even a throne room. The red banners over everything concealed much of the ornate designs behind it, but the way the lines of the walls were angled, guiding the eye toward the entrance, the way the door itself had been carefully carved with a stylized heart—again defaced—spoke of some great presence behind it.

That, and the balcony was much larger than the ones before, adopting an elongated sweep with the door at its center. It wanted to be noticed, and had been given space enough for maximum impact.

“Careful,” Dawn said, her low voice still shocking amidst the silence. Her horn was glowing. “I feel a lot of magic behind that door. Worse, we’re low enough now that the gas may still be present. Stay within my shield. A faint, shimmering sphere glistened around them. “Or if you get out of it, try not to breathe.”

They waited, watching the door as the seconds ticked on.

Nothing. Sabra glanced back at Steel and Dawn. “Perhaps we should knock?” The captain let out a low laugh, but shook his head.

“No, if we knock, we do it Dusk Guard style.” He took a step forward. “We blow the—”

“Magic!”

Dawn’s cry of alarm was the only warning they got before the door exploded outward, a titanic explosion shattering it into dozens of pieces and flinging them across the balcony. Sabra ducked, but Steel’s barrier dropped into place around them, intercepting and blocking several of the large pieces. They hit the shield hard enough to make it ripple, the heavy chunks of crystal breaking apart and skittering across the surface past the group. And behind them …

Argent … Sabra thought, pulling his Fimbo from his back. The silver-coated unicorn was standing in the doorway, looking perfectly calm and unruffled in the wake of the destruction he’d caused. Almost too calm. There was something about the dry, almost bored look on his face that sent a prickle of unease crawling down Sabra’s spine, like a beetle had gotten into his suit.

He should be worried, Sabra thought. But he’s not.

Then again, it could have had something to do with the dozen or so remaining Order members fanning out behind him, all but one of which were unicorns, the last a crystal pony collaborator. A few of them looked a little unsure or nervous, but the rest looked confident. A few even wore smiles.

They either possess extreme confidence, or they’re in possession of something we have yet to see, Sabra thought as Argent took several steps forward, coming to a stop just outside the door. There was something else off about him, and it took Sabra a moment to identify what.

Purple. He could see it, ever so faintly now. Leaking from his eyes. Like misty tears that flowed up instead of down. A glance at Dawn showed that she’d noticed it as well, confirming his suspicions.

He’s pulling on dark magics.

“I am impressed,” Argent said, his voice carrying across the balcony. His voice was … calm, almost relaxed. In a way, lifeless, as if the stallion himself were working to summon the energy to speak. “I will admit that I had assumed, like so many of the king’s advisors, that you were an army of Equestrians bent on our subjugation. But now that you are here, I see no army. It was always the three of you, was it not? Skilled, talented, yes, but striking from the shadows, orchestrating our responses, guiding our thoughts.”

“Well, it helps that you’re pretty predictable,” Steel replied, a firm tone in his voice that seemed to stand opposed against the lack of urgency or weight to Argent’s own. “But if you’d like to be unpredictable for a moment and surrender instead of trying for the futile last stand, I’ll accept that.”

One corner of Argent’s lips turned up, the unicorn taking on a strange sort of half-smile. “An intriguing proposition, Equestrian, and I suppose I should do the honorable thing and offer like in exchange. I am willing to accept your surrender and submission before and on behalf of King Sombra.”

“You know nothing of honor.” Sabra caught the slight twitch of Steel’s ears as he spoke out of turn. He hadn’t meant to, but … No sense in stepping back. “You rule through fear and oppression, with barbarity and cruelty. Your word has no honor, nor any substance of trust.”

Argent’s eyes narrowed slightly. “I suppose those of your ilk would see it as such, if only because of your blindness. But no matter. If you will not surrender, then I must force you to see reason.” His horn began to glow, sickly-looking purple bubbles of magic rolling along its length amidst the silver glow. “How thorough were those that hold your leash in explaining why—?”

He teleported, blinking a foot to his right as a chunk of crystal, thrown by Steel, passed through the space he’d just vacated, still speaking as if nothing had happened. “—I am Lord Sombra’s second in command?”

“I assumed it was because you’re the largest plot-head he could find second of himself,” Steel said, hefting another bit of crystal. He’d had to poke his foreleg out through the barrier to throw it, Sabra realized.

Argent didn’t respond to the barb. “It is because of my talent.” His horn began to glow brighter, and Steel glanced at the rest of them, jerking his head and giving them the signal to fan out.

“He can breathe, so can we,” he said, then broke, charging through the barrier and around the edge of the balcony. Sabra followed his motion, rushing first toward the opposite side and then changing direction to charge right at the open doorway where the rest of the unicorns were still standing still, waiting.

For what? They didn’t even react as he began to run toward them. They just stood, waiting at his charge. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled again. Something is very wrong.

“I am a master of organization,” Argent said, teleporting again to keep away from Captain Song, his voice never stopping. “My skill lies in effective utilization and distribution of resources,” he continued, the purple globs across his horn growing. “I can examine almost any report or document and, with the information given, find the most efficient path forward. In my tasks as Lord Sombra’s second, this makes me a highly valuable asset.”

Sabra slowed to a stop, mere feet from the door. The ponies on the other side still hadn’t moved, or even reacted to his presence. They barely seemed to be looking at him, their eyes staring at … Argent? The prickling sensation of wrongness was running down his limbs now. Something very strange was going on.

Still, he didn’t have to cross into the room, not when there were a few large bits of crystal nearby he could simply toss—

Then as one, in the same moment, each of the remaining members of the Order smiled.

“But when taken to its full potential,” Argent said, and Sabra turned to see the unicorn’s eyes flash with corrupted magic, leaking out of the sides like water boiling off a hot stone. “I become so much more.”

With a sudden snap, the eyes of each of the Order members through the door flashed, first with white light, and then, as Sabra turned back, the sense of dread he’d been feeling swelling, with tendrils of purples that surged through the veins, making it look like each of their eyes was being clutched by some sort of creature.

Which in a way, they were. Their mouths opened as one, each speaking in perfect synchronization, their voices layering over one another in a terrible cadance. “I become many, at their fullest extent.”

The Order ponies charged as one, and Sabra dove back as three ponies moved to attack him at once, moving in perfect synchronization. He managed to bring his staff up, deflecting two simultaneous blows with short swords, only for a third to scrape across his armor and a stunning spell to slam into his hip, enough of its power pressing through his armor to send tingles down his side.

He jumped back, swiping wide with his Fimbo and watching as each of the four ponies before him moved in perfect synchronization, not one tripping over another or stepping in the way of its fellows. Two unicorns behind them teleported, and he was forced to duck as both appeared on either side, one cutting high with their sword, the other low.

He took the low strike with his shoulder, the blade chipping away at his armor, and shoved back, trying to catch his attacker off balance, only for a third unicorn to appear in flash of light, blocking his move with a sudden stomp of their hoof that nearly pinned his shoulder to the ground. As it was, he pushed himself back, sliding under the attacker on his other side, trying to put more space between him and the dangerous, synchronized unicorns.

This isn’t like fighting the Guard at the field, he thought as he blocked three more strikes, the last attack still slipping past him to chip away at his side as he dodged another spell. They fight with one another. They work together, but this … His Fimbo was almost invisible he was spinning it so fast, frantically knocking aside blows from all sides. While none came individually as fast or as quick as the mare he’d been fighting earlier, each was in harmony, and together …

It’s like fighting a beast that shares a single mind, Sabra thought as another spell threatened to ensnare his hooves in thick roots. He dove back, luring his attackers into the roots instead, snaring three of them for a bare moment. But then the spell receded, freeing them to press the attack once more. Off to his side, he could see Steel and Dawn both fighting against their own attackers, Steel facing Argent himself with several allies, all keeping a wary distance from the earth pony and seemingly trying to wear him down with spells, while Dawn was frantically casting for all she was worth under a barrage of magical fire.

There has to be a way to even the scales. He was almost backed up against the balcony railing now, his attackers pressing hard and fast. He had more than a dozen chips across his armor now, and several spells had made it past his defenses as well, one limb burning with pain, the other slowed and sluggish. As his tail touched the railing, one of the unicorns with a sword slipped past his defenses and his plates. Pain erupted along his lower side as he twisted, the blow light, but the blade sharp enough still to cut through suit and skin. He staggered back, his attackers smiling as one.

I cannot retreat any further, and together, their skill outweighs my own. He was moving purely on instinct, staff parrying desperately as his attackers—or attacker—closed in. I cannot win. We cannot—

NO.

Some stubborn part of him pushed back, and with a start the bleakness seemed to lift from his mind. Mental magic! So subtle he’d barely realized he’d been effected. The group around him scowled as one, pushing forward.

Great leaders and generals have stood where my hooves now step, he thought as he brought his staff around in complicated star, turning aside three blades and two spells. The metal glowed red where the spells hit. But they achieved victory each through skill and cleverness. Fields of fire, hidden blades in the grass, and—

Gas. He sucked in a greedy breath, breathing as hard and fast as he could, ignoring the pains in his side and even managing a weak, aborted shout between blocks. “Mind!” he called. “Magic!” He wasn’t sure if Dawn and Steel even had the awareness to hear his voice over the battles they were facing, but he had to try. As he watched, Steel got the upper hoof over one of the unicorns, only for one battling Dawn to turn and fire a single spell that forced him back before turning on Dawn once more.

They move as one, he thought. But they are not perfect. So I shall bring them closer to that number. He took a final, deep breath, filling his lungs to bursting, and jerked forward, tossing his staff high into the air.

Again, his motion caught his attackers off guard, but they reacted swiftly. Multiple blows slammed into him, pain cascading up his chest and sides as his armor did its best to hold the attacks back. But he had to weather it, had to push through it, because …

He locked his forelegs around two of his attackers, even as they jabbed at his armor, trying to get past his plates with their weapons, and caught his Fimbo as it fell.

Locking it tightly against the pair’s backs and the two unicorns between them as he jerked back, pulled at his mod, and rolled backwards over the balcony rail, dragging all four of them with him.

Two teleported away before he’d even let go, flashing away in bursts of light and landing on the ground level beneath him. The other two he let go, scoring several more blows even as he tumbled away and back. Both of them surrounded themselves in magic glows, slowing their falls.

He pulled his mod dry as he hit the ground, the force of his impact shattering the crystal floor beneath him and sending a spiderweb of cracks in all directions. Even with the mod granting him superpony strength and endurance, the impact still threatened to knock the air from his lungs, and the hoof that had been frozen earlier sent a lance of pain up his rear leg. His Fimbo slammed into the ground nearby, skipping off the crystalline surface with a ring and slamming into the grand staircase.

A spell shot past his head, narrowly missing the tips of his ears, and he moved for the steps as the unicorns began to move toward him once more, weapons at the ready and horns glowing with magic.

At least, until two of them slowed and began to stagger. Confusion erupted across all their faces at once as one of them slipped to the ground, trying to stay upright. A second later another followed them, and then a third began to sway. Shields began to flicker in the air as each of them caught up with what was happening and began to summon barriers as Dawn had to strain out the sedative.

But he was already moving among them, heading for the most aware of the four remaining unicorns. His move seemed to catch them by surprise, and he ducked through the pony’s shield, slamming into them and throwing them down hard against the ground. Quick and dirty. The barrier around the unicorn winked out, and he slammed a hoof into their gut, right beneath the barding. Air exploded from their lungs, followed by a greedy, automatic inhalation … and the pony’s eyes rolled back, their body going limp.

Whether or not they were faking there was no time to determine. He spun as two of the other unicorns teleported away, likely to someplace they could breathe, but the last one couldn’t seem to grip their magic properly. Even the purple veins in their eyes were fading away.

He didn’t see whether or not they did before his hoof hit their face. The unicorn went down, and their eyes stayed closed.

From three levels up there was a titanic explosion, a deafening boom that echoed through the tower and made the floor vibrate beneath Sabra’s hooves. Bits of crystal rained over the balcony and tore through banners.

Without a pause Sabra turned and ran up the grand steps, scooping up his battered Fimbo as he went and balancing it on his back. Another explosive boom echoed from above, this time followed by a roaring sizzle as beams of light began arcing around the open air. One cut across one of the large, flowing banners, and it burst into flame as the beam cut it in half.

He reached the landing and circled back, galloping for the spiral steps that started on the sides of the tower. Bodies of motionless Order unicorns lay all around, forcing him to jump and choose his hoofing deftly.

He was almost at the landing to the third level when another titanic explosion rocked the tower, steps shaking under his feet. This time, however, he saw the force of the blast, six spells intersecting as one and blasting Steel across the balcony. He slammed into the far wall and didn’t get up, his armor scorched and blackened.

“That’s one of you dealt with,” Argent’s voice said, echoing out of multiple mouths even as Dawn let out a wordless cry—from anger or shock, Sabra couldn’t say. He rushed across the landing, rising up the steps again as multiple spells converged on the mare’s position. Amazingly, her shields held, though she staggered to one side.

Right into a teleporting unicorn with gripping a spear in their magic. The glowing blade bit deep, puncturing through Dawn’s armor and, as Sabra watched in horror, lifted her into the air before flinging her across the balcony to drop out of sight behind the railing.

“And then,” Argent said, floating in the air as Sabra rounded the final landing, chest burning even as he let himself breathe at last. “There was one.”

Steel was still down, motionless. Dawn was lying at the end of a slick of blood, spear still in her side. Argent had spoken the truth. There was only one thing to do.

“You will find,” he said, drawing his Fimbo and settling into a fighting stance. “That this one is far more capable than you know.” I don’t have enough time to take all of them down. Argent is the center. If he falls, so do the rest.

“You have no magic that can challenge ours, past that which your enchanted armor gives you,” Argent continued, his voice echoing from almost a dozen mouths as Sabra sprung forward. But not quite—he could see a few inert bodies near where Steel and Dawn had both been fighting. He jumped, twisting and avoiding multiple strikes from Argent’s puppets, still making straight for the unicorn. “What hope do you have against the magic we wield?”

In the corner of his eyes, he saw Dawn move slightly, and he increased his speed, still barreling toward Argent. The unicorn laughed, three other Order unicorns appearing before him in a flash and intercepting Sabra’s path, blades and even a flail at the ready. He faked a leap, then broke left, Argent’s forces closing in on him from all sides, but none looking in Dawn’s direction.

He blocked two blows, ducked under a spell, then twisted around two more attacks even as the end of the flail wrapped around his staff, trying to yank it away. He pulled what little power was in his mod and tugged back, yanking the weapon from the unicorn’s grip and quickly flinging it at another. Even with Argent’s unification, the unicorns went down in a tangle.

The crystal pony came at him alongside three other unicorns. A spell stabbed at his ribs and threw him back even as he managed to catch one attacker in the chin with a retaliatory strike. Dawn was still getting up, but he was facing attacks from all sides now. Dawn rose, the spear that had been in her gripped in her magic as she pointed it at Argent’s back …

A spell caught her in the side, flinging her to the ground as two of Sabra’s assailants warped away, appearing by the downed mare and pummeling her mercilessly.

No.

“You are capable,” Argent said, his voice still flat even from as many throats as it was emanating from. “My prior statement about numbers was premature. Now it is one.” The two unicorns delivered final, vicious kicks to Dawn and then warped back to join those pressing against Sabra. “You will lose, Equestrian.”

No.

Blows were coming from all sides, slipping through his armor. A spell left a track of ice across his flank. Pain erupted across his skull as something slammed into his head.

No!

He snapped his hooves out, taking scoring hits against his forelegs even as he threw several ponies back, and jumped, pushing up as hard as he could as he flew toward the floating Argent, bringing his staff up for an overhead blow. He swept it down—

And it stopped, suddenly, tearing free of his hooves and sending him into an end-over-end flip. Right before he hit the ground he caught sight of his staff, still hanging in the air, its tip held in a purple-silver glow.

He landed on the back of his head and rolled, his body bouncing over debris. He had almost slid to a stop when an explosive spell caught him in the gut, launching him across the balcony. When he finally did come to a stop, it felt as though the ground was shaking beneath him, the world quivering. He tried to push himself up—

A unicorn kicked his legs out from under him, throwing him to the ground.

“Interesting,” Argent said, still holding Sabra’s staff in his magic as he walked over. Several of his puppets knelt on Sabra’s limbs, pinning them even as his head swam. “It would appear I was right: whoever made your armor did not think to extend that same resistance to your staff.” He tossed it aside, sending it clattering across the balcony before looking back at Sabra.

“Now, with you three rooted out, we can once again prepare this city for Lord Sombra’s return. The unicorn we will keep; her skill was evident, and she may yet be brought to see the light. But you, your kind, and those that aided you?” He shook his head, the purple magic seeping from his eyes finally fading slightly. “You do not know your place, and therefore are forfeit. Remove his helmet.”

Hooves tore at his neck, yanking the straps against his chin before severing them and tugging his helmet away. He blinked, looking up at Argent as the unicorn’s eyes widened in surprise.

“You really are a zebra,” he said, a dark, purple cloud forming around his horn. “Unexpected.”

The world seemed to be swimming now, a deep rumble echoing in his ears like distant hoofsteps. Maybe he’d be unconscious before the killing blow struck. Argent, however, didn’t seem to want to wait.

“Farewell, Equestrian.”

I will die honorably. He pulled his head up, glaring at Argent as the purple magic swelled and boiled. Goodbye mother, father.

Goodbye, Sky. He swallowed. I—

Argent fired, and a shining pink shield slammed down in front of Sabra, the beam hitting it with a screeching hiss.

“What!?”

“Gotcha!”

Argent reared back, eyes wide as two beams of yellow light lanced into his puppets, catching them in the back of the head and dropping them to the ground. Two more had begun to fall before the first two had even slumped halfway, and suddenly Sabra’s limbs were free as the Order mages jumped to defend their coordinator.

Two more fell, and then a thunderous cacophony of snaps and bright flashes filled the balcony as dozens of unicorns, each clad in royal gold armor, appeared on the balcony, spells firing. A clear spot at their forefront rippled, an invisibility spell melting away to reveal a cadre of Royal Guard with a familiar blue-maned figure at their center. More Order fell, the few that remained holding a barrier around Argent, dozens of spells slamming against it.

Neither Argent nor the unicorns were looking in his direction. Letting loose a howl, he threw himself at Argent’s back, desperately pulling at his mod in hopes that it had something—anything—left to give. Argent turned, eyes wide in shock, as Sabra’s haymaker caught him in the side of the head, lifting his hooves from the ground and launching him across the balcony. He hit the railing with a dull thump, his head cracking against the crystal, and slumped to the ground, horn going dark, purple ichor boiling away. His remaining forces sagged, cohesion broken, and dozens of stunning spells cut them down.

Sabra sank to his haunches, chest heaving, eyes suddenly damp as he glanced at Steel and Dawn. Medical Guard were attending to them both.

“They’re fine.” Sabra snapped his face back forward and managed a salute as Captain Armor came to a stop in front of him. Two more Guard medics stepped past him, already moving to check his injuries. “They’re both fine,” Captain Armor repeated. “They’re still alive.”

Sabra nodded and sagged. We did it. “I …” There was something he was supposed to do, if his flagging mind’s shouts were anything to go by. Some duty that Captain Song had drilled into them.

Yes. That was it. He nodded and opened his mouth, his throat dry. “As …” He coughed, clearing his throat. “As standing ranking member of the Dusk Guard, command is now yours, Captain Armor.”

Captain Armor’s jaw dropped, and then, almost sheepishly, he returned Sabra’s salute. “Accepted,” he said, even as more unicorns charged up the remaining stairs, working in teams to flush the building. “It looks like you guys had the party out of Tartarus.”

“Believe me,” Sabra said as the medics began disconnecting his armor. Suddenly Dawn’s insistence that the other divisions know how to carry it out made sense. He let out a slow breath, and then nodded.

“We are very glad to see you, captain. Asante.”

END OF PART TWO

Chapter 27

View Online

“This is a lot of gear.”

Hunter looked up from the pile in front of him, nodding as he glanced at Nova before turning his attention back to his equipment. All of it was spread out in neat, mostly-organized rows, ready to be placed in a particular spot in his saddlebags. For what they were about to do, he wanted to make sure everything was where he wanted it.

“It is,” he said, picking up a small collection of gelatin sticks and sliding them into a pouch on his climbing harness. There were only three of them, mostly because they were new, and still quite a bit more costly than flares—which he had twice as many of—but there were moments where the glowing chemical concoction inside them would be more useful than a fiery, sparking flare. Especially under a glacier. “But better to have it than to want it.” He moved to the next items in line, a whole set of carabiner clips made of high-quality, sturdy metal, and began clipping them to the front of his climbing harness, where he could grab them as needed. Separate from any that he would be using if he climbed.

Clips secure and strapped down with a piece of velcro, he moved to the next thing. Small coils of rope went to the exterior of his saddlebags, strapped down but in a way allowing him to reach them as needed. A small, razor-sharp cutting tool that could be used to slice through the same rope as needed in a quick, clean motion. All of it went into his saddlebags or into small pouches on his harness, which was already over a light coat, which in turn was over his armor.

Awkward, but it worked. Thankfully, from the troubled frowns Sky Bolt had been giving both him and Nova each time she’d run through the cabin, he had a feeling that their next meeting would see her producing improvements of some kind.

“Okay,” Nova said, slowly following in Hunter’s steps and putting his own gear in place. His motions were slower, but no less deliberate, with the colt occasionally stopping to check and make certain he could reach something easily. Another feather in the wings of their training regimen. “I get why I have climbing gear.” He rapped his crampons with a carabiner, eliciting a faint metal-on-metal ting quickly buried under the hum of The Hummingbird’s propellers. “But you? You’ve got wings.”

“So?” He glanced down at his harness, making sure everything was in place. Screws, clips, rope, leash, chem sticks, flares … “What if I hurt my wings? Or somepony down below is looking for a flying target? Or you slip? I can fly, sure … right up until I can’t. Besides …” He picked up one of the items still left on the table, a long, lean climbing axe, and threaded his hoof through the hoop at the end. Then he gave it a quick, vicious flip, the tip scything through the air. “We end up in a blue down there, these things can be pretty helpful. And have you ever kicked anything with climbing crampons on?”

Nova shook his head. “Nope.”

“Trust me, they won’t be looking forward to being kicked again. Provided you do it right.” He eyed the crampons spread across the table. Much better than snowshoes. Easier to move in, too.

“So … weapons and useful gear?”

“Well, the same way I could fly, I could ask you why you’re not teleporting. The short answer is that you’re still working on it, but the real answer is that even if you could …” He let his voice trail off.

“I get it,” Nova said, nodding. “No way I’d teleport down blind.”

“Exactly. You’re not starkers, or stupid. So me?” Hunter pulled the axe from his hoof and slapped it into place on his harness. “Sure, I can fly. And I might fly out. But I’m not flying down. That’s a crook idea.”

The sound of running hoofsteps alerted him to Bolt running in from the aft of the ship, and he turned as she jumped through the door, already in her own armor, though without a harness or other gear. Yet. But she had a more important task to tend to first.

“We’re almost in position,” she said quickly, skidding to a halt on the rubbery deck mats. “With three anchors, The Hummingbird should be safe enough unless the wind picks up pretty strong again.” He could hear the unspoken worry in her voice, that the exact scenario would happen while she was climbing down with them into the glacier.

Then again, the storm over the city hasn’t really dissipated at all, so we’re bound to get more crook weather out here on the edges. The worry is valid.

Then again, she’d built The Hummingbird. If she said the anchors would hold, they’d hold. “How low do we have to be?”

“Pretty low,” Bolt said, glancing toward the large cabin windows. The snow had started back up again, though much lighter than it had been earlier. “About forty feet from the ground. I’ll leave the superboilers going low to keep everything warm, and the autopilot will try to keep her from moving too much, but that’s as low as I dare get.”

He nodded. “Nova and I will drive the anchor spikes in then?” Bolt nodded, then turned and rushed for the cockpit, the conversation over as abruptly as it had begun.

She was nervous. They all were. And not just because we’re not wearing our helmets right now. His own was sitting at the end of the table, waiting for him to claim it. And maybe that had something to do with it. After all, their quarry had messed with their heads before.

At the same time, the faint feeling of nervous dread in his stomach felt pretty natural. They’d chased Sombra to their exact position, and he’d spent an entire storm digging straight down. The shade’s course had been too specific, to determined, to be by chance. He was looking for something. Something more important than the city he was supposed to have rushed back towards.

I shouldn’t whinge, Hunter thought, securing a second ice axe at his side. But this mission really has been shonky from the start.

“You ready?” he asked, picking up his crampons and clipping them to his side. Outside the airship, the world was slowly spinning, the world turning around them as Bolt brought them down to anchoring altitude and pointed the ship’s nose into the wind.

“Almost,” Nova carefully clipped his own ice-axe in place. He’d opted for one rather than two, choosing a third crampon for his other forehoof. “So, we drop down and plant the anchors, right?”

Hunter nodded. “Plant the anchors, then a solid belay line near the crevasse. Unless you notice any traps; then we’ll clear those first. Once The Hummingbird is anchored, Bolt will join us, and we’ll see what our friend has been digging for.”

“And if it’s too unstable?”

He shrugged. “We could always help it along. Probably won’t kill a shade to have the glacier cave in on him, but it sure can’t make it easier for him.”

He gave his armor a final check, eyeing each component and giving his body a quick shake to make sure that everything was secure. As he did, something caught his eye from the lockers on the far side of the room. His was still open, as he’d grabbed some of his equipment from it.

And hanging on a peg in the back was his hat.

He shook his head, tearing his eyes away. Not ideal, he thought, picking up his helmet. But it’s not worth the risk.

Still, as he trotted over and shut the locker, leaving the hat in darkness, he couldn’t help feel a sense of unease that had nothing to do with their hunt or any magic field their quarry could be throwing at them.

Sorry Swift, he thought, sliding his helmet down over his mane. But I’ve only got the two sets of headgear.

If she was there, he knew, she’d have rolled her eyes for even having the hesitation in the first place. But … she wasn’t, and that only made leaving the hat behind harder.

Focus, he told himself with another shake of his head. He cinched his helmet into place. It’s just until the mission is over. For now, worry about what’s at the bottom of—

“Boss!” Bolt’s shout from the cockpit made him whirl. “You’d better get in here!”

He bolted, grabbing the hatchframe as he swung himself out of the cabin. “What?” Then he saw it, and his stomach sank along with his wings.

“Oh Tartarus,” he said, his eyes fixed on the shimmering blue dome covering the distant Crystal Empire. “How long ago did that happen?”

“Couldn’t have been more than a few minutes ago,” Bolt answered, glancing over at him as he made way for Nova to poke his head into the cockpit as well. Nova’s eyes instantly locked on the distant blue sphere.

“That’s the signal, isn’t it?” he asked, and Hunter nodded.

“True dinkum.” He pulled his wings back tight against his sides, mind racing. Feathers, that upends almost everything we were just doing.

“So … I need to go pick up the captain and his squad, right?”

“Team,” Hunter corrected without thinking. “But yeah, you do.” And that means we’re down a mare, plus bereft of all our support equipment and supply. “How long do you think it’ll take?”

“Weather being what it is?” Bolt’s pained look told him what he’d wanted to know before she continued. “At least a couple of hours. Maybe more. Say … six, seven hours to get there if the weather is clear. Maybe that back.”

“Feathers.”

“Should I stay?”

“No.” The word was out of his mouth in a snap, his mind already made up. “No,” he said again. “You’re going. Now. Nova?” Hunter turned. “Change of plans. We’re not anchoring The Hummingbird. Bolt is going to go back and pick up the rest of the team. That means we’ll need survival gear: Tents, food, the like. Grab the throw bags. We’ll leave them in the snow at the edge of the glacier before we go down. One for each of us.”

“Got it.” Nova nodded and pulled his head out of the cabin, horn glowing as he scrambled to grab the heavy “go bags.”

“Hunter—” Sky Bolt began, but he cut her off with a wave of his hoof.

“Nova and I have this. That’s our job. We’ll do the glacier diving and see what we find. Your job is to get Captain Song and the rest of the team back out here as quickly as possible, right?” Sky Bolt nodded, and he clapped her on the shoulder with his hoof. “As soon as you see us jump, open your baby up. When we see you coming back, we’ll send up a flare. Right?”

She nodded. “Right.”

“Spot on.” He pulled his hoof back and glanced back at the central cabin. Two of the to-go bags were lying on the table, Nova running over them with his magic and double-checking that both were stocked. “Soon as the bags are ready, we’ll jump. You see us hit the ground, you take off. Fast as your baby will go.”

He didn’t miss the sudden flash of glee shining through Bolt’s look of alarm. “That fast?”

He paused, glancing again at the bags. Nova was almost done, already floating one of them up onto his back. “Well, as long as you don’t overdo it and break something. You’ll be flying alone, remember.”

“Right, right.” The sudden look of contemplative thoughtfulness on her muzzle didn’t do anything to hide the eager twitch of her wingfeathers, or the way her tail was trembling. Even with everything that was going on, the prospect of opening up her airship at full throttle was clearly appealing.

“Just get the team, and come back and get us.” He stepped back, halfway through the hatch. “Nova?”

“Your bag’s ready to go.”

“Final gear check then. Make sure we didn’t leave anything behind.” He gave Sky Bolt a final nod, then rushed to his to-go bag and, with a nod from Nova, slung it over his back, grunting a little as the extra weight came down on him.

Definitely a little much with the climbing gear and the coat, he thought as he began moving down the hall, Nova behind him.

“Well,” Nova said as they neared the door. “That didn’t take long to go wrong, did it?”

“No,” he replied. “It didn’t.” But there was nothing more they could do now. “Ready?”

“Ready.”

They dropped faster this time, the weight of the to-go bags dragging them down through the icy air toward the edge of the glacier. Thick snow cushioned their impact, however, and a moment later they were digging their way out of a snowbank, Nova already excavating a small divot for his bag while at the same time assembling a thin, whiplike pole with a brightly-colored flag on the end to mark where their gear was buried. Hunter tossed his own bag at him, and it hit the snow with a faint whump, sinking in slightly.

Above them The Hummingbird hung for a moment longer, then slowly began to pivot. The moment the cockpit came into view, the low rumble of the propellers became an almost deafening roar. Hunter folded his ears back as the airship began to rise higher into the sky, the downdraft from its props enough to kick snow up all around them. The roar rose, a growl that echoed across the sky like a challenge to the heavens, and The Hummingbird surged upward, the wind and the howl of its props fading as it climbed and climbed. In minutes, it was barely a dot, moving toward the western horizon.

“Well, that’s that,” Hunter said, lowering his hoof and brushing a coating of snow off of his visor. “The bags?”

“Secure,” Nova said, patting a small pile of snow. The flagpole stuck out of them, whipping back and forth in the low wind, orange flag at its tip flapping with faint snaps.

“Then we’re good to go.” He gave his rear hooves a quick stomp, frowning when they dropped through the snow. Right. No snowshoes. “Let’s see what Sombra’s so interested in.”

The crampons on their rear hooves made it easy to cross the glacier, the tough spikes digging into the icy and gripping solidly. Three times Nova motioned for a stop, his horn glowing faintly as he checked for traps, and three times they moved on without action, the distant grey crystals growing closer with each step.

“Nothing,” Nova said after the third stop, shaking his head. “These crystals are totally inert. I’m getting some hints of magic that way—” He pointed. “—but nothing nearby.”

“So if there are magical traps, you’re not sensing them?”

“Please,” Nova said, shaking his head. “No one’s that good. Not even Luna.”

“She’s tried?”

“She has. She’s good, but I’m better.”

They moved forward once more, and in minutes they were standing near the edge of the crevasse, the ice ahead of them bunching in broken clumps before giving way entirely. A minute more and Hunter had secured an anchor for their drop near the middle of the gash’s length, satisfied that the possie he’d picked was sound only when Nova couldn’t tug it free with a judicious use of his magic.

“I’ll go first.” He backed up the edge of the crevice, rope carefully threaded through his climbing gear. “Clip on and follow once I’m about ten feet down.” Nova nodded, and then there was nothing left to do but steel himself and jump.

He hung in the air for only a moment before swinging back into the side of the crevasse, his rear hooves biting into the ice and stopping his descent cold. He checked his grip on the line, then swung out again, dropping a good dozen feet before stopping against the icy wall once more.

So far, so good. He took a quick look around. The walls of the crevice were like a rocky canyon, dropping down at least a few hundred feet beneath him, maybe more. The sides were jagged and angled, some showing signs of age, but most looking like fresh wounds, the ice untouched by air until recently. Over it, the crystal growths were like strange bones, jutting out of the ice.

He jumped again, dropping. Jump. Drop. Rest. Above him the line tightened as Nova attached himself to it and followed, mimicking the same movements as they both descended deeper into the glacier. The sounds of their descent echoed around them, every chip against the ice rolling back in a long, resonating cry that rose in pitch with every bounce until they were alien squeaks. The walls, slowly but surely, began to narrow, taking on a more recently touched appearance. Above them, the sky had thinned to a single, jagged crack, a bolt of brilliant blue against the ice.

Still they dropped. How far down does this go? The crystals growths made it hard to tell, their shadows twisting over one another and casting successive layers of darkness the deeper they went. I hope I threw enough rope over the edge. He’d opted for three hundred-foot coils. If it wasn’t enough, he had more than enough tools to set up a new anchor point and climb down, but … I’d really rather not do that.

Then he saw it. The end of the rope, some ten feet down, faintly whipping back and forth with his every movement.

“Stop.” His words echoed off the ice around them, bouncing over and back like the glacier itself was trying to speak. “End of the rope. Gonna have to add to it.”

“Great. How much further?”

It took him a moment to remember how to activate the lights Bolt had installed in his helmet, but after a moment’s fumbling he got it. And almost immediately let out a sigh of relief.

“Another forty, fifty feet,” he called, beams sweeping back and forth across what could only be dark, rich earth. The lights illuminated the glacier around them, showing off its bold blue shade with every turn of his head. By comparison, the ground beneath them was almost a dark morass, like a single hoofstep on it would only drop further into the earth. Save for the occasional lighter shade to it that betrayed it as the carpet of stability that it was.

He took a faint sniff, and the scent of rich, heavy earth flooded his nostrils. Interesting. He played his lights left and then right, searching for signs of ice along the ground, and was rewarded with several. But the blue clumps were smoothed, without harsh edges.

“I think it’s natural!” he called upwards, twisting and looking at Nova dangling some twenty feet above him.

“What?”

“The crevasse!” He pointed down. “The ground beneath us. There’s no signs of breakage. This was here before Sombra found it.” He began to slide down the rope again, more slowly this time as the end of the rope neared.

“Okay,” Nova said, nodding. “So what’s that mean?”

“I don’t know,” he said, coming to a stop a few feet from the bottom of the rope and digging his rear legs into the ice with a solid kick. Then, one hoof still tightly binding the rope, he drove one of his axes into the glacier wall, the sharp tick of the impact echoing around him and echoing into another strange squelch. When he was sure it could hold his weight, he clipped himself to the end, using it as an anchor and taking his weight off of the primary rope while he extended it.

Good onya Swift, he thought as he tied the addition in place. Making sure I never used my wings doing this. For the challenge. He gave the knot a sharp yank, and satisfied, got a good grip once more and moved his anchor back.

“Line’s in place,” he said, putting his full weight on it. Only once he was certain that it was holding his weight did he jerk his ice-axe out of the glacier wall and return it to his side. “Going down.”

He let out a faint sigh of relief as his back hooves touched soft earth at last, sinking several inches into what felt like loam. “Contact,” he called, disengaging himself from the end of the rope and stepping away and quickly looking around, searching for any signs of their quarry.

No crystals, he thought, playing his lights across the glacier walls. Huh. So he only had to pry open the crevasse above us. But … He frowned, peering back and forth down the length of the gap. That disturbed the ice above us. Why don’t we see signs of that down here? Something that fell? Here and there, his lights sparkled over a hard piece of shimmering blue ice, but in each case the sides were old and smoothed. In fact, the sides of the glacier walls around them were smooth as well.

“Find something?” Nova asked, a soft thump sounding out before being absorbed by the soft earth.

“I’m not sure,” he said, stepping over to one of the chunks of ice and sliding his hoof across it. Smooth as silk. “Give me a moment.” Smooth ice. This isn’t a normal break. He peered to his left, what would have been west had they been above ground, his lights glimmering off of more ice as the crevasse narrowed.

The soil. He turned his lights down, then lifted a forehoof out and stepped down, pressing hard against the loam.

His hoof sank several inches into the earth, and when it did, he caught sight of a faint glimmer around it. That’s it. Dark clumps of loam clung to the limb as he pulled it back, and he lifted his hoof up near his muzzle, taking a quick sniff.

Moisture. The ground is wet. And warm. That’s why the walls in what should be a crack are so smooth. And there aren’t any signs of Sombra’s excavation above. Any chips that made it this far down melted, which is why the ground is damp. That means heat. Not much heat, but heat all the same.

“Ground’s wet,” he said, shaking the clump of earth free from his hoof and looking at Nova. “There’s heat source down here.” Nova nodded, his horn glowing.

“Magical?” he asked.

Hunter shook his head. “I don’t know.” But Sombra came down here, or at least we think so … He peered at the long walls of the shaft to their east. “There’s less ice to our east. Let’s see what we find.” The twin beams of his lights flickered off the bright blue walls, making it look like the path ahead of them repeated endlessly. The ground broke the illusion, however, rolling and shifting like waves frozen in the earth. The crevasse began to widen, occasionally twisting or sometimes narrowing for a brief moment, but never ceasing, and always resuming its forward route once more. Above them, the brief glimpse of sky left by Sombra’s excavation dimmed, snow and ice covering the top of the gap once more.

Hunter heard it before he saw it. A soft, unmistakable trickle faintly echoing from ahead. “You hear that?”

Nova nodded, horn still softly glowing. “Sounds like water.”

“I think it is.” He flicked his ears, testing the air around them, but they weren’t exactly the best choice for checking for moistness. Still, the air did taste damper. Or maybe that was just him imagining it, but … Ahead of them the gap between the mighty glacier walls narrowed to a single pony’s width, flaring next to the ground like the shape of some ancient Romane vase. More signs of water. The walls looked brighter as well, with a sheen to them under his lights. The narrow gap twisted and turned, completely blocking their view of whatever lay beyond.

“I’ll go—” He was going to say “first” but Nova cut him off.

“I’ll go first,” he said quickly. “I’m not sensing any magic, but I’m the one with shields. In a tight space, that’s a better option.”

“Onya. That’s a good point,” Hunter replied. “Though I could use my mod.”

Nova shook his head as he moved past him. “No, save it. I’m not sensing any magic ahead. And believe me—” His horn flared slightly brighter. “I’m looking.” The armored unicorn moved forward into the gap, body twisting as he contorted around the narrow ice walls, touching nothing. A moment later, he’d moved completely out of sight.

Seconds later he was back. “Found the stream,” he said quickly, half his body poking around the twist in the ice. “And … Well, just come look.”

Hunter followed Nova through the gap, pausing only to press one hoof against the wall and note how slick it was. It’s wet. There’s enough water in the air to make the ice wet.

Then the narrow passage opened up, and he saw the stream. And it all made sense.

Water cascaded gently over a series of long, flat stones, their surfaces worn smooth by who knew how many centuries of water. There were even small divots in the stone where pools had formed. Most notable of all, however, was that the water despite its coolness had a faint mist coming off of it.

No, not mist. Steam. That explains the moisture down here, but is it because it’s cold enough down here for that to evaporate, or is the water—

Nova elbowed him and he jerked his eyes up. “Oh crikey.”

Just up the “side” of the mountain, the stream flowing between them, were two life-sized statues of what looked to have once been unicorns, their surfaces now coated in lichen, rearing up with their broken horns pointed at the icy roof of the glacier. The long, flat stones were more than just stones, they were steps, winding with the stream past the statues and up the side of the mountain through a tunnel carved into the ice. Glacier dirt had claimed the edges of the long, flat stones, and some of them were even broken, cracked or out of position, but the running water in the middle had kept that part of the stones clean.

“Flowing water,” Hunter said, stepping forward and dipping a hoof against the nearest flat stone, water splitting around it. “Over an old stone path.”

“You miss the tunnel heading up the mountain under the glacier?” Nova asked. “Or the two statues of unicorns? Cause both of those seem pretty important.”

“I was getting there,” he said, glancing down the side of the mountain. The tunnel continued southward, curving away out of sight. “This must meet up with the rest of the tributaries that make up Neighagra Falls. Eroding the glacier from beneath.”

“Right,” Nova said. “Why doesn’t it freeze. Is it magic?”

He took a quick look around, his beams spilling over the statues once more and throwing their craggy muzzles into relief. One was a mare, the other a stallion. “Anything dangerous you can pick up?”

“No,” Nova said, shaking his head. “Why?”

“Cause I need to do this,” Hunter replied, undoing the strap under his helmet and pulling it from his head. The lights on it went out immediately, the only remaining light the glow from Nova’s horn. It was dim, almost dark in the wake of the brightness of the lamps, but he could still see well enough to bend down on one leg and take a deep sniff of the water. No faint, acrid stink teased at his nostrils.

“Uh … you thirsty?” Nova asked as he stuck his tongue out, very lightly touching the surface of the water. “I’ve got a spare canteen.”

“No,” he replied as he pushed himself back up. “Though I would like to wash that taste out of my mouth.” He grabbed his own canteen and took a quick sip, swishing the water through his teeth before spitting it out on the stones. “I just wanted to check something. The water’s warm, not very, but warm all the same. Sus too, ‘cause it doesn’t smell like water you’d get from a hot spring. No sulfur scent. That’s why I took my helmet off; couldn’t check it with my hooves geared up.” He held up one coated hoof and waggled it.

“So … warm water. Is that why there’s a cave here?”

“Most likely. Could explain the groaning beings have heard here over the years too, maybe. Warmth under the ice making the glacier shift. But warm water?” He slipped his helmet back down over his head, adjusting it slightly as it pressed against his mane and ears improperly and getting it seated in the right position. “Flowing beneath it? That’d do it.” The lights in his helmet didn’t come back on when he dropped the helmet into place, but he left them off, instead moving to his harness and pulled out one of the gelatin sticks. It let out a sharp series of pops as he rolled it in his hooves, the sounds echoing back at him from the glacier walls like cascading stones, and then the stick began to let out a steady, bright yellowish glow.

“So,” he said, clipping the stick to the front of his harness and turning, its yellow light blending with the glow from Nova’s horn. “Any magic on those statues?”

Nova shook his head. “None that I can detect.” He moved up the steps, faint splashes of water echoing around him and scrapes sounding as the crampons on his rear hooves scratched against the ancient stone. “They’ve been down here pretty long though. I mean, the glacier is over a thousand years old, right?”

“At least.” Hunter stepped up next to him, examining the statue and tapping a hoof against the stone. Powder fell away beneath his hooves. “Lichen’s had centuries to work on it. I don’t think this was shonky work. Stone looks like … granite. Tough stuff. Not the kind of thing you make a cheap statue with; stuff’s a hard yakka to carve. Lasts forever. For lichen to have smoothed this stone over …” He ran his hoof over the stone chest of the unicorn, dust and dried bits of lichen flaking away beneath his hoof. “I’m not familiar with cave lichens, but I’d guess at least around a dozen centuries.”

“Before the glacier existed, then,” Nova said.

“Unless you can think of a reason for someone to haul this stuff down under here after the glacier formed.”

“So this must be what Sombra was after then,” Nova said. “This path.”

“Seems like it.” The features of the mare were all but worn away, the stallion standing astride the opposite side of the path suffering the same. He couldn’t pick out any details. “Though the statues give me another worry.”

“You mean that they’re unicorns, and not crystal ponies?” Nova asked, rapping his hoof against one. “Yeah, I noticed that. Only one way to find out what’s at the top, though.”

Hunter nodded, and then followed as Nova moved to the side, away from the stream-covered steps and onto the soft earth. Where it’s quiet, Hunter thought as Nova began to climb the soft mountainside. Good thinking. They couldn’t do much about their light, since the alternative was moving entirely in the dark, but at least they could be quiet.

They followed that path upward, the soft soil sucking at their hooves and making each step a bit more intensive than it would have been. The stream meandered with the pathway, rarely leaving the stones for long. Once it cut a sharp upward climb, the stones vanishing under the ice, only to reappear and meet back up as they climbed up a steep, muddy embankment. The tunnel they were in constantly changed size, widening and narrowing, sometimes spacious, sometimes almost right up against the edges of the stream, other times spread wide at the base. The stream changed almost-as-often, sometimes wide and placid, sometimes narrow and choppy. When it was the latter, Hunter noted, the steam coming from it was more pronounced.

They had passed two more sets of statues, unicorns like the first girdling the path, when Nova held up a hoof and signaled for Hunter to stop. Then he gave the signal for a trap.

“What kind of trap?” Hunter asked, keeping his voice low. The tunnel ahead of them was straight, and through the glow of the chem stick he could see another pair of statues ahead, practically identical to those he’d seen before.

“Not sure,” Nova said quietly, his horn glowing very faintly. “It’s like a tripwire, stretched across the whole cavern. Not perfectly accurate, but that’s it. Trip-net maybe.”

“Any idea what it does?”

Nova shook his head. “No. But it’s fresh. And it feels like Sombra. Not the shade, but his magic. It’s got his touch.”

“Can you find out what it does?”

“Not without setting it off.”

“What about get around it?”

“Same problem, I think.” Nova was barely moving, his eyes narrowed through the visor. “It’s not sloppy work, I’ll give it that much. Even hitting it with your mod might set it off, though …” He quieted, the glow around his horn brightening slightly. “Okay, that won’t work either. Going above it … This is thorough. If I put out enough magic to get past it, I’ll set it off anyway.”

“And if we just mosey up there?” Hunter asked, motioning at the two statues.

“That’ll definitely set it off,” Nova replied quickly, horn ceasing its glow. “Problem is, I’m not seeing much of an alternative.

“Is there any way you can get a better idea of what it does?”

“Maybe. Might take some time.”

“Do it. We can’t turn back.”

“All right,” Nova said with a slight toss of his head. “Here goes. Just get ready to run if it goes bad.”

“Aren’t you the greatest thief Equestria ever saw?”

“Ever?” Nova glanced at him. “Probably not ever. Well … maybe. But either way, part of that is knowing when you’re going to get caught. This is only made to catch somepony. The only question is how it does that.” His horn began to glow once more, and Nova went quiet.

A minute passed, and then another, Nova completely motionless save for the movement of his barrel with each breath as he probed at the spell blocking their path. Hope it’s the only one, Hunter thought as he watched. Who knows how much of a lead Sombra has on us.

And for what? That was still a question without an answer, though some hunch told him that the water had something to do with it. It’s warm, but not geothermal. At least, it doesn’t smell like it. How?

“Got something.” Nova’s voice was strained, like he was holding himself just above a precipice. “I think it’s—”

A loud snap echoed through the air, and Nova jerked back as a wave of purple smoke boiled out of the air between the two statues, rushing toward them.

“Brace!” Hunter wasn’t sure if the words had been his or Nova’s but he heeded them all the same as the purple cloud swept into him.

His body locked, a paralyzing fear sweeping over him pushing into his soul, filling his mind with nothing but horrible flashes of terrible memories … and then it was gone, and he let out a gasp as the cloud faded.

“Fear spell,” Nova said through a gasp of his own. “If we didn’t have the armor …” He shook his head. “Sorry Hunter, I set it off. There was another part to the spell though, something—”

From ahead of them a chorus of cracks echoed down the tunnel, and Hunter snapped his head up in a panic, searching for the first signs of the ice coming down on them. But it wasn’t the ice. The sound was too normal to be the popping twang of a glacier.

Instead, the two statues ahead of them were moving, dust and lichen breaking free as they moved and shook, first with jerky, uneven movements, and then smoother ones as each stepped free of their pedestals, blank faces turning in the direction of Hunter and Nova.

“Oh,” Nova said, his voice almost matter-of-fact as the two statues began to trot toward them. “A come-to-life spell then. Probably designed to kill us while we’re immobile with fear. I’d be impressed, but after the golems?” He shrugged. “Eh. It’s just stone.”

“Right then,” Hunter said, rolling his shoulders. Finally, something I can fight. “I got the stallion, you got the mare?”

“Sounds good.”

Hunter nodded and unclipped both his axes. “Then let’s do some carving.” The two statues accelerated into a gallop, the sound of their stone hooves echoing off of the steps, and Hunter rushed forward, his wings snapping back to give him height and momentum. He sailed over the head of the stone stallion, tucking himself tight into a roll and landing behind it. The animated construct tried to turn, but its hooves slipped against the wet stone, turning what probably would have been a somewhat graceful dash into a scrambling slide.

You’re heavy, Hunter thought as he darted back, swinging out with an ice-axe and catching the statue in the shoulder. The tough metal blade bit through the aged stone, chips flying free. He pulled his limb back, dodging a ponderously slow backhoof. But slow.

Still, a single hit would have a lot of weight behind it, he thought as he made another strike, darting past the stallion’s next sloppy strike and chipping more stone from its form. Don’t get careless.

The same couldn’t be said for the stone stallion. Already it was charging toward him once more, acting more like a drunken brawler than a conscious fighter. Mint’s golems had more sense than this. Then again, she’d built her golems, making breakthrough designs and innovations over common tried-and-true spellwork. And “come to life” spells weren’t known for their complexity. They moved within a simple set of instructions and acted on them. Usually with a degree of “growth” that made them highly unpredictable.

Then again, you don’t need much predictability when your orders are “smash everything,” Hunter thought as he ducked to the side, a heavy haymaker of a blow whipping through the air where he’d just been. The action left the stallion off-balance, and he stumbled forward, giving Hunter another chance to clip him in the hindquarters, carving out a small divot in the stone.

Still, I can’t just dance with this thing forever. A glance back at Nova showed that he was still occupied with his own statue … though he didn’t seem too concerned. He was holding it in the air with his magic, the statue struggling and twisting but unable to break free. Eventually, I’ll get stuffed, or the spell will wear out, and all I’ll have done is some carving. The stone stallion came back around, charging at him once more. I need a weak point. It’s stone. Stone’s brittle.

He ducked under another wild blow, hooking a hind leg with one axe as he slid past and almost losing it as the weight of the statue tugged against it. The tip slipped free however, and the statue went down again, slamming its head into the stone steps with enough force that the ground shook.

Weak points, Hunter thought as the statue climbed to its hooves once more. Places where the stone is thin, easy to crack. The impact of the stallion’s head against the steps had broken more of its face away, giving it an even more unnatural look as it charged at him once more. Hunter’s eyes slipped downward.

The neck, he thought, jumping up and over the statue’s charge and kicking it in the back of the head for good measure. The impact sent a shock rushing up his hooves, like he’d kicked a boulder, but it was enough to once again send the statue sliding forward, tripping over the wet steps. That’s the thinnest point of the statue.

He snapped his wings forward, throwing himself backward in a tight roll and landing on the statue’s back, both hooves coming down in a crosswise slash that drove his ice axes right into its neck. The metal picks chipped into the lichen-weakened granite, each knocking free a decent-sized piece.

Then the statue bucked, flinging him upwards toward the roof of the tunnel, and he flared his wings to keep from slamming into the ice. Did it—Yes! He could see more chips of stone falling away from the stallion’s neck as it turned, “looking” at him. Which was weird, since it wasn’t like its eyes did anything.

Nova, he noticed, was still holding his statue in a magic field. He hadn’t moved otherwise.

The statue was trying to jump at him now, rising up into the air and then crashing down on the steps hard enough that one of the slabs cracked. Hunter shook his head. These things are amazingly dumb. But since it’s fixed on me … He looked at Nova, then motioned to the jumping stallion.

Nova nodded, and the stallion’s companion slammed into it in midair as if fired from a cannon, stone dust exploding around them as the two masses met. Both tumbled into the soft earth, kicking up soil around them, struggling to rise, and then—

A loud crack split the air as the mare, in its haste to rise, broke its companion’s foreleg off at the joint. Which caused the stallion to topple over, crashing into the mare once more and sending both of them into the dirt.

“Wow,” Nova said aloud. “They really are stupid, aren’t they?” The broken limb floated into the air clad in a yellow glow as the two statues, finally far enough from one another, rose. Both were caked in mud and dirt, giving them an even stranger appearance. Then, as the mare started forward, Nova’s impromptu club snapped down against the side of the statue’s head. With a sharp crack, the mare’s head and the leg itself broke apart, the stone separating into several pieces.

The mare didn’t even seem to react, the statue still moving forward, now headless.

“Not bad,” Nova said, animating several more of the now-free bits of stone and pelting the statue’s body with them. “Spell’s adaptive enough that losing a major limb won’t break it.”

“Most don’t consider the head a limb,” Hunter pointed out, watching the stallion statue as it began to limp toward them. “Where’s the spell centered?”

“Chest,” Nova said, another of the mare’s limbs cracking and then breaking under the pounding he was giving it. The broken limb soon added to his assault. “Do you want me to take care of the stallion, or …?”

“I can handle it.” He dove back down, avoiding a off-balance swipe from the stallion’s remaining foreleg that sent it pitching into the dirt. Chest huh? Thickest part of the statue. Sombra isn’t stupid. He brought his axes down between the statue’s shoulder blades—or at least, where shoulder blades would have been on a real pony rather than a carving. The picks made a decent dent, but as they did, his eyes caught something else: a hairline fracture running through the rock.

All that motion, he thought as he jumped back, the stallion’s slow blow too late to be effective at anything but sending it into the dirt once more. Which was now starting to look a lot more like churned mud. The magic can’t cover up the cost. Another reason “come to life” spells were impractical, unless you tuned them like the Tam sisters had. Stone isn’t meant to bend like that.

Off to his side, the mare had been reduced mostly to immobility, pushing itself forward with one leg while Nova ground it into gravel. With one limb left, they could probably leave it be, but since his was still moving …

He attacked again, this time driving both his axes down at the hairline crack as hard as he could. One missed, kicking off the stone near the faint crack. But the other hit home, biting into the stone stallion’s back.

He barely had time to slip his hoof free of the strap and jump back before the stallion had pushed up once more, almost clipping him with a buck that probably would have cracked his armor had it connected. Still, the axe stayed in place, pick pinned inside the crack in the statue’s back even as it turned and twisted. Hunter flapped his wings, gaining altitude over the struggling stone pony, and then hurtled himself downward, bracing his rear legs and bringing them down squarely on the handle of the pinned axe.

The impact was like kicking a stone wall, the shock resonating up his rear legs, but the result was immediate. The statue shuddered as the tiny fracture widened, a series of cracks emanating from its body. Then it froze, body perfectly still, before collapsing, its core coming apart in three different pieces.

“And that’s how you do it, you dumb hunk of rock,” Hunter said, picking up the ice axe and checking the pick. The tough steel bore signs of the fight, the edge dulled in places and the metal tarnished, but it looked functional enough.

He turned away from the rubble just in time to see Nova let go of the rubble he’d been using to pound the other statue apart, stones falling into the mud with faint wet splashes. The core of the mare was still intact, Hunter noted, only missing its limbs and its head. Which had left the spell intact, the body of the statue twisting and turning in the mud like some sort of insect larva.

“Well,” he said, clipping his axes back to his harness as he watched the statue squirm. “That’s disturbing.”

“Yeah, but it can’t do much but roll now, so we can leave it until the spell runs out.”

“Good.” He lifted a hind leg, checking the crampons and noting that the metal tips had been smashed in thanks to his kicks against the stone. Whoops. Hope that isn’t a problem later. “How much energy do you think Sombra spent setting this up for us?”

“Hard to say,” Nova said, shrugging and stepping a little closer to the flailing statue. “Come-to-life spells take some good energy to make work, but they’re not out of the realm for an average unicorn. They’re just a waste most of the time considering how stupid the result is.” He tapped the headless, limbless statue lying in the mud, and it responded by shaking back and forth violently, splattering mud across Nova’s armor.

“Two of them would be a challenge then?”

“For the average unicorn?” Nova thought for a moment and then nodded. “I think so. Which would mean he’s still getting stronger.”

“But still not heading for the city.” Hunter glanced down at the remains of the statue he’d shattered. So were these meant to stop us? Or slow us down? “Still, there’s one thing we can stop worrying about now.”

“Keeping quiet?” Nova asked.

Hunter nodded. “Keeping quiet. He has to know we’re coming now.”

“Then let’s not keep him waiting,” Nova said, turning and galloping up the wet steps. “I’ll keep a lookout for more traps.”

“Good!” Hunter called, taking to the air for a moment and catching up to Nova. The sound of their hooves splashing against the wet stone echoed around them. “Let’s see how much of a lead he really has.”

And hope it isn’t much of one, he thought as they rounded another bend in the tunnel, the light of Nova’s magic and the chem stick reflecting back off the walls of the glacier. Because if he gets any stronger, facing him head on might no longer be an option. And once that happens, I have no idea how we’re supposed to keep him from just barreling through us to the empire.

They galloped upwards, following the steps as they wound back and forth beneath the glacier. Twice more they slowed as statues neared ahead of them, and both times Nova shook his head, the statues staying inert as they passed by.

How much higher can this climb? We have to be getting close to the top at some—

“Stop!” Nova’s cry was the only warning he got as a shimmering silver shield snapped into existence just ahead of them, moments before a black cloud slammed into it. Hunter locked his hooves, crampon screeching against the slick stone steps as he slid forward, even as shards of black crystal consumed the shield, growing across it and around it as they tried to reach him and Nova. He came to a stop just as the spell flickered out, leaving the crystals behind in the shape of a strange wave, sharp points stretching out toward them.

“I know that spell …” The voice was like a whisper that seethed with heat, a fire that cut through the cold air. “You serve her!” Something shifted in the tunnel ahead of them, the shadows shifting and sliding like smoke, and then with a rush of wind, Sombra vanished into the dark.

“Go!” Hunter shouted, rising from his crouch and rushing around the crystal wave. He could already hear them cracking, coming apart as their master fled. Nova darted around the other side, horn glowing with power.

“Run him down!” Hunter shouted as he beat his wings, taking to the air for extra speed. He could just make out the sight of something fleeing ahead of them, a black cloud that shimmered over the stream like smoke. He beat his wings harder, almost falling through the air as he picked up speed—

A black tendril lashed out of smoke, slamming into the ceiling of the glacier just ahead of him. Hunter rolled to the side as a massive, dark crystal shot out of the roof, growing right into his path. More tendrils lashed out, striking the ground and the glacier around them, crystals shoving free of the earth with cracks and pops. Hunter was forced to slow as the air ahead grew thick with the growths, each stabbing downward. Some of them even broke free of the ice and fell, dark, dangerous spears that dropped through the dark toward the ground below, where Nova was already forced to dance around the pillars that had already sprung up in his path. As Hunter watched, Nova lashed out with magic of his own, slamming one of the falling growths out of his path.

Then with a cry somewhere between the howl of an animal in pain and a roar of desperation, tendrils stabbed out in all directions, striking every side of the tunnel all at once. Hunter snapped his wings forward, braking hard as the passage ahead of them grew crystal spikes like teeth, closing off all but a narrow gap between them. A narrow, sharp gap.

“That had to cost him,” Nova said as he slid to a halt at the base. “He just used a lot of magic.”

“Can you take these down?” Hunter asked, kicking one of the growths in the side. It held, solid beneath his hoof. Sombra had already vanished through the small gap.

“Maybe?” A simple beam shot out of his horn, plying over the crystal wall. “I think it’s already starting to weaken.”

“Good.” He kicked against the crystal again. This time it cracked, shifting slightly beneath his hooves.

“Step back,” he said, readying for another kick. “This might come down.” Nova moved, and he kicked again, the crystal cracking louder and shifting, but not quite falling.

“Hurry,” Nova said. “If he’s willing to burn this much power to slow us down, what’s so important that stopping us for this long is worth it?”

“Good point,” Hunter grunted, slamming his whole body into the crystal stalactite. The whole thing shifted and then gave, folding back beneath the impact and then plummeting to the ground, bouncing off the back sides of the crystals below it and knocking them both outward.

Nova was already moving toward him at a run, and Hunter turned, stretching out his front hooves. Nova’s leap carried him up, his forehoove’s catching Hunter’s, and for a moment both their combined weights and that of their gear made his wing-muscles scream with exertion before he flipped Nova up and through the new opening, winging after him a moment later.

“You feel that?” Nova called before Hunter had even made it through the gap.

“No.”

“Magic,” Nova said as he charged forward, and Hunter followed. “It’s like that weird fear effect from earlier, but different.”

“Different? How?”

“Muffled? Dampened? Something like that,” Nova said as they charged forward. The ground beneath them was almost level now, through there was still a slight incline shown in the water Nova was splashing through. “But it’s getting stronger.”

With a thought, Hunter activated his mod, the golden glow bursting out around him and suffusing the world in the same, strange glowing blur he’d come to expect.

Except the colors were wrong, the shades different. It was like there was a haze in the air, a faint tinge of purple that clouded everything. The stone underhoof was widening as they moved forward, and he realized that he was seeing something magic in the stone, something that let him see through the dark around them. Something …

“It’s a building,” he said, slowing.

“What?”

“What’s left of one, anyway.” He could see how the path they were on met a shattered foundation, passing between what was left of what looked like two stone doorposts.

“I see it. You’re right. Was.”

More of the structure came into his augmented view as he stepped forward. There wasn’t much left aside from the foundation. Here and there he could make out a low wall, but little else. “Something leveled this place,” he said as they neared the point where the stone steps swelled out to make a courtyard, the water spilling over them. The roof of the glacier seemed to be rising away as well, bulging back into the edge of what he assumed was a large, inverted bowl.

“That feeling’s getting stronger,” Nova said, horn glowing.

“I know.” He could see the haze thickening near the edges of what the mod showed him, swirling out of something. Worse, he could feel it pressing against his mind, like a whisper at the edge of his senses, even through his armor.

Still, he couldn’t see Sombra. Or what lay further into the ruin. The purple, glowing haze and stone walls around him vanished, the mod’s power extinguished.

“Well,” he said, glancing at Nova. “There’s only one way forward.”

“Slow,” Nova cautioned, his horn glowing. “With all this magic in the air, finding traps is going to be a lot harder.

They trotted forward, toward the ruined doorposts. The feeling of unease seemed to swell within him with each step, like there was something crawling down his back that was just out of sight and out of reach. A drop of water landed on his visor as he passed through what was left of the doorway and he paused.

“What?” Nova asked, his voice low.

Hunter pointed at the drop as it slid down his visor. “This must be where the water’s coming from,” he said, looking up. The ceiling of the glacier was already almost out of sight, faint stalactites of ice glimmering under the chem stick’s weak light. He brought his gaze back down, checking the base of the ruined walls. The water was deeper than it had been on the way up. “It’s a lake. Or a pond, I guess, depending on how big this place is.” He gave his wings a little shake, more droplets of water drizzling off and striking the surface of the lake, which he noted was still rippling despite he and Nova no longer moving forward.

“Geothermal vent?” Nova asked.

He shook his head. “No, those smell. And this place?” He took a deep sniff. “Musty and wet. But it doesn’t smell like a hot spring. There’s something else.” He took a quick look around again, his eye stopping on the back-side of the door posts.

“Look at this,” he said, pointing. “Is it just me, or does the stone on this side seem melted?”

“It does,” Nova said, hooves slipping in and out of the water as he stepped up to the doorposts. Then he bent in close, horn glowing slightly brighter for a moment. “And it’s warm.”

“What?”

“The stone,” Nova said. “There’s some sort of magic on it. Or in it. It’s letting off heat.”

Hunter placed a hoof up against it but couldn’t feel it through his suit. The moment he pulled away, however, he could see the wet mark he’d left start to fade, evaporating into the air.

Sombra’s eating magic. Could this be why he came here? He nodded at Nova and they began moving forward once more, the water slowly deepening around them as they splashed further into the ruin.

What was this place? Small raised lines in their path marked what had once been walls, hallways, and doors. Here and there larger walls loomed out of the dark, the stone shiny and smooth like liquid where whatever force had leveled the place had melted the surface. The air grew warmer as they moved further in, the water deeper, rising first to their fetlocks, and then to halfway up their limbs. The sounds of their passage grew louder as the water grew deeper, and louder still as they scrambled over ruins of stone that now stood like islands in a swamp. Even they had been submitted to the same force as the rest of the ruin, their sides smooth and slick, bristling with once-molten drops and drips.

“The fear effect is getting stronger,” Nova said as they climbed over another molten ruin. This one was topped by what had probably once been a statue, though it was hard to tell. It’s features were a sagging mush, the shape barely recognizable as something possibly equine.

“I know.” He swallowed as they moved down the other side of the stones. How far does this go on? “I can feel it.” His breath was starting to come in shorter gasps, and he forced himself to calm, pulling in a long breath and holding it before letting it out.

It’s just magic. Don’t let it aggro you over nothing. It’s just magic.

It didn’t feel like magic, though. It felt like the world was starting to compress around him, every sound magnified in his ears. And it wasn’t like there wasn’t anything to be worried about. All the magic in the air around them, the ruin … Sombra …

The air felt like it was getting thicker, pressing back against him with every step he took forward. Short, heavy breaths sounded across the water, and he realized with surprise that they were his own. His ears were tight against the outside of his helmet, clenched as low as they could go.

It’s just fear magic. Push forward. One hoof after the other.

A gasp from Nova made him stop short, one hoof frozen in midstep. He noted as he glanced over that the water was now up to his chest, his barrel partially submerged. He hadn’t even noticed. “What is it?” Even his own voice sounded alien to his ears, his wings twitching as it echoed across the water and then back at him.

“Magic,” Nova said, his voice strained. “Dark magic. Lots of it. Straight ahead.”

“Right.” There was no way their voices weren’t carrying through the entire cavern. Where is Sombra. “Get ready. I’m going to turn on the lights. Straight ahead?”

Nova nodded, horn still glowing and his body set in a ready stance, though his tail was tucked tightly against his body.

It’s just magic. It wants you to be afraid. It’s shonky. Fake. Don’t give in. He ignored the lightness to his limbs as he fixed his gaze ahead and, sucking in a breath, activated the headlamps.

“Sun above …” The words slipped out of his mouth almost by reflex, even as he heard Nova let out a similar curse of astonishment. The water ahead of them was open and flat, devoid of any breaks or obstructions for almost a hundred feet in all directions.

Save one. There, in what looked to be the center, was a giant, multifaceted growth of crystal rising out of the water like a tower, its surface as clear as glass. And inside it, hanging in the air, frozen, was the mummified body of a rearing pony.

But not just any pony. The skin was black and withered, the hooves charred and cracked. The eyes were empty sockets, staring straight up, mouth open in a soundless challenge. Shining bands of molten metal marred its chest and forehead. But the most striking feature of all was a curved, red horn, jutting upwards toward the heavens.

A nervous pit formed in Hunter’s gut, one that had nothing to do with the haze of magic around them. “His body,” he said quietly, as every mystery of the ruin around them fell into place. “That’s his body.” Or what’s left of it. “This must be—”

“Where I changed …”

The voice seemed to echo all around them, bouncing and reverberating as Hunter dropped into a low crouch, wings at the ready, pulling his gaze from the crystal monolith and panning it across the water around them. Where is he?

Now it all made sense. He was looking for his body. This is where he ripped himself from it, became that … thing. That’s why the stone is melted, why there’s magic everywhere. This is where he made his last stand against Celestia and Luna. A last stand with so much magic thrown around it left a mark that lasted over a thousand years.

And now they were right in the middle of it. Where is he? He panned his gaze in all directions, searching for any sign of errant smoke or dark clouds, but saw nothing. Where?

“Nova?” he asked, taking a step back and making sure they were side by side. “Any sign of him?”

Nova shook his head. “Nothing. There’s too much ambient magic in the air. It’s like trying to look through fog.”

“Well, keep trying.” He spun, putting them back to back and peering over the path behind them. “He’s got to be—”

A smoky black tendril lashed out from the dark, his headlamps plying across it at the last possible second, and he threw himself to the side, tackling Nova and shoving them both out of the way. He had a brief glimpse of the tendril striking the water’s surface where he’d just been, hitting with a wet slap, and then he and Nova were both under the surface, water shooting into his helmet from every opening and blinding him. He shoved himself back up, blinking as the spray of water stopped and trying not to choke on the water that was already in his helmet.

“There he goes!” A black cloud was streaking across the water’s surface, already well out of reach. Nova fired, a single beam of yellow light catching the rear section of the cloud, a scream sounding out across the cavern as it boiled the smoke away.

But then the black mist reached the crystal at the center of the lake and sank into it as if dissolving into water, tendrils of dark, smoky crystal spreading out from the point of impact. Nova fired another beam, but it bounced off, impacting somewhere far above as the crystal continued to change color, Sombra’s form somehow moving through the clear substance like a cloud of obsidian glass.

“Mine …” The voice resonated around them as the first of the smoky tendrils wrapped around the rear hoof of the mummified corpse at the center, and as Hunter watched the body began to wither, limb shriveling away and melting into the cloud. “Mine!” Sombra’s voice drew out, echoing into a roar that made the cavern shake, ripples rolling out across the lake as more and more of the withered body inside the crystal was consumed.

“Uh … Hunter?” Nova asked, backing up a couple of steps.

“Way ahead of you kid.” Deep cracks were forming across the surface of the crystal, the body inside now more than halfway consumed and sprouting multiple tendrils that had wrapped about the horn. “I think we’re officially out of our weight class, and that came with orders.”

With a deep crunch that echoed in his bones, part of the cavern ceiling gave way, several tons of ice collapsing and falling for the lake behind the crystal. Sombra’s body was almost completely gone, only the skull and the red, curved horn remaining. “MINE!”

“Go!” Hunter called, pulling his eyes away from the growing threat and flapping his wings, skimming across the surface. “Go go go!” A heavy whump sounded behind them as the heavy chunk of ice buried itself in the lake, sending a rush of air across his wings. It wasn’t just fake fear driving him now. There was an energy in the air, a prickling sensation that made the hairs of his coat stand on end.

Nova! He glanced back and down just in time to see a flash of yellow light from Nova’s position, followed by a faint pop and an echoing flash as Nova appeared further ahead, water that had ridden with him through the teleport splashing down around him. For a moment he looked stunned, but then he let out a loud “Yeah!” and vanished again, reappearing some distance ahead.

“MINE!”

The ground was shaking like an earthquake had possessed it now, and Hunter beat his wings, gaining altitude as more chunks of ice fell from the ceiling. Like the ERS headquarters all over again, he thought as he ducked around a falling slab of ice as thick as he was tall. What is it with places we visit collapsing on us!?

He could see the tunnel down the mountainside ahead of them now, and he rushed toward it even as a deep, cackling, almost mad laughter began to echo across the cavern behind him. Then it changed, the pitch switching to a maddened roar, and something slid across the surface of the water like a shadow, moving far faster than any tendril of smoke.

Then a sharp crystal spike erupted out of the water at the shadow’s peak, shooting up into the air and narrowly missing him as he went into a roll. Two more shadows split out from its base, and each of them burst forth into a crystal as well, narrowly missing his wings as the tunnel entrance loomed.

Nova was already there, and he fired, a beam of yellow light striking out at yet another crystal growth burst through the water, rising into the air. The beam bounced off and struck the glacier wall, the ice blowing apart with sharp echoed twangs.

“Run!” Hunter shouted, three more crystals erupting around him and almost spearing a wing. Nova nodded and turned, galloping across the flat courtyard and down the steps as Hunter winged after him.

“Mine!” The voice behind them had grown deeper, almost a growl that echoed like the earth itself was in pain. A titanic crack split the air, like the cavern itself was coming apart, and Hunter glanced back as the shadows ceased their chase. The central crystal had split in two, shadows and smoke leaking out of it. “All mine … Crystals … all mine!”

The fake fear was gone now. Real, dinkum fear had replaced it. Twin glows of green-and-purple light shone out of the center of the shadowed mass, eyes that stared right at him.

“Crystal ponies …” The eyes swept out of sight as he entered the tunnel at last, flying downward as fast as he could, settling for a skipping hop that saw his hooves touch the steps just long enough for him to shove himself forward. Nova was somewhere ahead of him, teleporting every few moments and lighting the way with his horn.

A wordless roar swept down the tunnel behind him, and he risked a glance back to see shadows sweeping after them, patches of dark that persisted despite the bright lights of his helmet. Here and there small black crystals were erupting out of the ground and walls along the shadows, and behind them … A dark cloud, filling the tunnel behind them.

Go go go go! He kicked off of the ground again, almost caught up with Nova now as the shadows surged toward them, picking up speed and closing the gap. His wings were starting to burn, the extra power granted by his armor not enough for both the speeds he was keeping and the extra weight of all the gear he was carrying. He moved a hoof to one of the straps, ready to dump something, anything, to keep ahead of the shadows, when they began to fall back, the howling roar fading as Sombra slowed.

He slowed down, Hunter thought as they rounded another bend, Nova taking it at a single leap while he winged overhead. Good. Let’s get some distance between us and … whatever he is now. Now that the moment was over and the fear effect gone, it was a lot easier to think rationally. Unless he drills right up through the cavern—which unless I miss my guess is the glacier bowl itself—he has to take the same exit out. If we can get there first and collapse it down on him …

A rumble from behind rippled past him, an echoing whisper of words traveling in its wake. Assuming we have time for that.

Still, they were officially in part two of their assignment. Or was that three? Doesn’t matter. We hunted him, now we keep him hunting us as long as we can. He glanced behind once more, but saw no signs of the shadows rushing after them.

“Nova!” He let his altitude drop as Nova looked up at him, running rather than teleporting, though whether it was because he was tired or simply saving his energy Hunter couldn’t say. “Any ideas?”

“For the next part of the plan? Yeah. We drop the glacier on him.”

Hunter nodded. “Kind of what I was thinking. Congrats on the teleport by the way.”

“Thanks! Nothing like fear of imminent death to make a hard spell really easy!” Nova glanced up at him as they rounded another bend. “So, how do you want to do this?”

“Without us eating dirt with him?” Another roar echoed down the tunnel behind them, dragging out into a low rumble that made the ice shake. “The crevasse.”

“Where we climbed down?”

He nodded. “How quickly do you think you can bring it down?”

“With spells? Fast. But I want to climb out first.”

“I’m with you there. Make it quick.” He risked a glance back and his insides went liquid. Black mist was rolling down the tunnel in a tide, roiling and shifting like a flash flood.

Nova glanced at him. “Did you look back?”

He nodded, gaze fixed firmly forward once more. “Yup.”

“And?”

He shook his head. “Run faster.”

The tunnel around them began to grow brighter, the light dim but welcome, and a moment later the crevasse came into view, the walls falling back and giving way. Nova threw himself into a hard turn as he rounded the corner, dirt and mud spraying from beneath his hooves as he tore out of the tunnel and out of sight. Hunter threw his own wings into a sharp, pitched turn, grunting as the weight of his gear bore down on him. Nova was already galloping toward the line, churning up the ground in a full sprint.

Hunter kept with his tight turn, tiny spasms of pain ripping down his wings as he banked right toward the crevasse wall and the closest grey crystal holding it back. He slammed into it with enough force to make his hooves ache, crampons biting into the surface and halting a short downward slide. The other crystals became brittle fast, he thought as he readied one of his ice axes. Let’s hope you’re just as shonky!

The ice axe bit deep into the crystal’s surface, driving deep between it and the icy wall of the glacier. Hunter threw himself back, beating his wings and pulling as hard as he could at the handle of the axe.

Nothing.

Come on, you shonky bit of stone. Give! Another roar echoed out of the tunnel as he reseated himself against the crystal’s side. Come on!

He jumped back again, tugging as hard as he could with his hooves, wings almost humming he was flapping so hard. With a soft crack the crystal gave, jerking outward about an inch before coming to a stop. Behind it, the ice let out a low groan, quivering slightly.

Come on! Tendrils of black were poking out of the tunnel now, snaking across the ground and spilling over the earth, swaying back and forth as if searching for something. Give!

He tilted himself sideways against the glacier wall, planting his rear hooves against the ice and pulling upward as hard as he could. Move you blasted bit of—

With a sharp crack the base of the crystal cracked and gave way, the ice behind it letting out another groan as Hunter rocketed away, the sound deep and sharp at the same time. The heavy piece of crystal hit the ground with a wet slap, mud spraying up around it. More mist rolled out of the tunnel, tendrils slipping over the fallen chunk of crystal and probing at it like octopus arms.

A sharp crack, however, echoed in the wake of the crystal slab’s slap, as the ice it had been supporting trembled and broke apart. A piece of ice roughly the size of a two-story home broke free of the glacier wall, toppling out and down into the mud with a heavy impact that resonated in Hunter’s chest.

Landing squarely atop the fallen support crystal and smoky tendrils, both vanishing in a spray of mud that coated the nearby glacier walls as well as a good portion of Hunter’s armor. The echoing scream of rage and pain from the tunnel, however, was worth it.

So you can be hurt, Hunter thought, spinning in the air and winging down the narrow glacier, leaving the tunnel behind. Good to know.

Nova was already halfway up the glacier wall, flying up the rope without regards to safety equipment or the harness he was wearing. As Hunter watched, Nova vanished in a flash of yellow light, reappearing several dozen feet higher up and dropping for a bare second before catching hold of the rope again. Risky—extremely so given the drop and the fact that he’d first successfully teleported only minutes ago—but given what was behind them and how quickly Nova was moving upward, Hunter wasn’t about to begrudge him the risk.

Another howl echoed behind them, and a wave of fear swept through Hunter’s body, his muscles spasming and locking for the barest moment before he forced them back into motion, flying for the far wall. Didn’t slow him down long, did it? A glance at the ground showed more of the shadowed tendrils spilling over the blue ice, backed by a dark cloud that seemed to suck the very color from its surroundings, the bright blue of the glacier somehow fading into drab grey.

Suddenly his mouth felt dry, his limbs weak. Sombra was coming, and there was nothing they could do to sto—

No! He shoved back against the fear seeping into his bones. It’s just a bunch of crook head magic! He’s trying to get into your head! It’s just a beat up! Ahead of him, a third of the way up the wall, was another greyed out crystal, part of a base for several more, holding back the ice. Push through it!

He slammed into the crystal without even slowing down, ignoring the pain in favor of pushing through the mindless fear jabbering at the back of his mind. The ice axe bit deep, shoving its way between the crystal and the ice wall with a sharp click that seemed abnormally loud against his ears.

“Run … little ponies …” The words echoed around him as Sombra spoke, and another chain of shivers rolled through his wings. His breaths were coming hard and fast. “Run … and die …”

It’s just magic! Just crook, stupid magic! He heaved, and the crystal jerked away from the glacier with a sharp, echoing crack, breaking free and falling down toward the ground below. The ice it was holding back let out a sharp cascade of echoing pings as Hunter flew back, but then stopped. The crystal had broken free too high up, with more than enough of its weight left braced against the ice to support itself, its fellows, and the walls of the glacier.

Sombra was getting closer. The black cloud was at the rope now, and he could see shadows shooting up the wall of the glacier, like long talons reaching out for him, moving to close over and drag him down to the—

“Hunter! Move!”

Nova’s voice shook him from his stupor, reality snapping back, and he beat his wings, climbing upwards as fast as he could, angling for the rope on the other side of the crevasse. Moments later, a trio of yellow bolts slammed into the side of the glacier, impacting around the base of the crystal he’d been trying to pull free, and with a series of shuddering, jerking cracks, the supports pulled away from the glacier wall. Deep cracks spread across the ice, splintering out in all directions and quickly rising past his own altitude. Moments later, the first chunks began to break free, brilliant blue shards the size of small ships sliding out and dropping down toward the distant ground. As he watched, the shadows that had been making their way up the walls stopped, black crystals growing out of them to ward off the collapsing wall.

It wasn’t nearly enough. The first chunk of ice slowed slightly as it crashed into the crystals, but it battered its way through them all the same. When several of its fellows bore down on it from behind, however, all sense of delay ceased, a thunderous roar rolling across the chasm as the ice hit bottom, mud and ice clouds rolling up around it. The force of the impact was enough to make the far wall shake, cracks rippling through the ice there as more ice began to tumble down in the wake of the first, pieces growing larger and larger.

Oh horsefeathers. Cracks were splitting in all directions now, ice splitting free and dropping all across the chasm wall, even around the crystal supports. Worse, small chips of ice were falling past him, dropping through the air and down toward the ground below.

Horsefeathers! He pumped his wings, going into a steep climb as a chunk of ice the size of a pony dropped past him, breaking free from somewhere up above. The constant crack and crash of breaking ice was blending into an indeterminate roar now as both walls began to give way, the chasm caving in on itself as the support crystals along both walls shattered.

Climb climb climb climb— His wings were on fire, fighting against the downward pull of gravity and the weight of his gear as he ducked around a falling block of ice large enough to crush him without slowing. The fake fear was gone again, replaced by very real fear as the glacier around him began to come apart.

His eyes darted up, catching sight of Nova working his way up the crumbling wall, whipping his body from side to side as the ice under his hooves crumbled. A large chunk of ice plummeted down at him from above, and with a flash Nova teleported, appearing above it, ice axe scraping a long trench in the glacier’s side before he caught the rope once more, ascending up the side of the crumbling glacier almost as fast as Hunter was flying.

The noise was deafening now, an all-consuming rumble that came from all directions, battering against him with almost as much force as the bits and pieces of ice that were skipping off of his armor. The air currents were going wild now, walls of freezing air rolling past as more and more of the glacier caved in, carrying with it small particles of ice and freezing mists that buffeted him from below.

Cold as they might be, however, they were currents he could ride. He stretched his wings wide, ignoring the sharp stabs of pain that cut across them as flecks of ice pounded them from both sides. He was almost at the top now, the sky visible above him through the icy mists, a beacon of wide open blue …

And then he was out, soaring into the bright noonday sun with a final push of his wings, ice dust and large bits sailing up around him in the open air. Another wave of air pushed up from below amidst a thunderous crash, carrying him high into the sky, and he leveled off, searching for any sign of purple amid the snow and clouds.

There! He spotted Nova galloping as fast as he could across the glacier’s surface, heading in a southwest bent as ice behind him shuddered and warped. A quick dive took him down once more, passing through a cloud of ice crystals before catching up and wrapping his hooves around Nova’s pack.

“Jump!” Nova complied, pushing off from the ice in time with a heavy wingflap and carrying them both forward over the ice. They both touched down for a brief moment before Nova leaped again, pushing up and easing the strain on his already tired wings.

Then they were over snow, real snow, and Hunter let go, dropping Nova to the ground and carrying on just far enough that he wouldn’t crash into him before letting his own wings go limp and falling to the ground. The thick snow absorbed the impact, cushioning his landing and bringing him to a jarring halt.

Keep moving. Snow was licking his lips, shoved through the grate at the front of his helmet by the impact, and he blew out a kick breath, forcing it back out as he stood. The roaring of the glacier behind them had already lowered to a dull rumbling echo, the only sign of the turmoil the ice clouds in the air and a large depression that ran east to west along one side of the ice.

Nova sat up, spitting snow from his helmet before turning and looking back at the depression. “Think that’ll hold him?”

Hunter shook his head. “Not for long.”

“Plan?”

He turned to the west, looking roughly in the direction of the Crystal Empire. It was hidden at the moment, obscured by mountains, rock, and trees. “Traps. Got any good ones for a smoke monster?”

“I’ve got a few.”

“Good. That’ll be step one.”

“Step two?”

He took a breath, tasting ice and feeling it burn against the back of his throat. “We run, and hope he follows.”

Chapter 28

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“You’re very lucky, you know,” the Royal Guard medic said, speaking almost nonchalantly as she tended to Sabra’s rear hoof. “You’re injured, but I’ve seen worse. Looks like that fancy armor of yours works like it claims.” The medic had a slight twang to her voice that reminded him of the more countried parts of Equestria he’d traveled. A sharp sudden spear of pain lanced up his rear leg from his hoof, and he twitched. “I think you owe whoever made it for you.”

“I do,” he said, holding his breath as another jolt of pain shot up his leg.

“Sorry,” the medic said. Apparently he hadn’t held still enough. “I know it’s tender.”

Part of him wanted to look, but he held his eyes forward, fighting the temptation and instead focusing on the rest of the palace around him. The Royal Guard had been hard at work removing the trappings of the Order, focusing first on the members themselves and then on breaking down the barricades and other elements. A trio of pegasi had already removed most of the banners, while several unicorns and earth ponies—combat engineers, if his recollection of Captain Song’s coaching on their emblage was correct—were almost done breaking down the defensive fortifications and casting mending spells on what they could across the former battlefield. Already it was starting to look as though a battle had never taken place, though there were definite signs if one knew where to look.

Another jolt of pain shot up his leg, making him grit his teeth. The ponies that had been involved in the battle, however … that was another matter.

Most of the Order had already been taken away under heavy guard, kept forcibly unconscious while their horns and legs were bound and their bodies thrown into the same prison cells that they had once overseen. Additional Guard had taken control of the former Order centers, and already were working with the crystal ponies to restore a semblance of stability and distribute medical supplies and food.

Which was why his initial examination was being done by a member of the Royal Guard, and not Dawn. She was over by the door, lying on a cot and conferring with several Guard lieutenants to help guide those same relief efforts and point them toward what she’d already been able to set up. As she spoke, a second medic was shadowing her, treating her injuries—the stab wound to the side of her barrel being of particular concern.

“Hold still please.” He complied, holding his breath and locking his muscles despite the pain it caused in his side. A gentle, soft-green glow slipped over him moving slowly from one end of his body to the other, and the medic let out a gentle “Hmmm.” He opened his mouth to speak, but then snapped it shut again.

She requested that I hold still.

Captain Song hadn’t been treated yet either. The battered earth pony was still conferring with Captain Armor, their conversation inaudible over the clamour of the rest of the Guard from his position. No doubt the captain was explaining which areas of the city they’d secured and who Captain Armor could get in touch with to speak about the local populace.

Everypony was busy assisting the Guard but him. And when he’d stated that fact to Captain Song, he’d been met with a quick, blunt rebuttal of “benefits of the rank.”

The sarcastic tone in the captain’s voice had made it questionable exactly who he felt was getting the benefit.

“All right, you can relax,” the medic said. A touch quickly, he noted as he let himself ease slightly, the pain in his side fading. There was an itch along his left foreleg, and he scratched idly at it with one hoof.

“I’m going to examine your side now, if you don’t mind,” the medic said, moving to look at the gash he’d taken during the fight. There was an ugly, bloody bandage plastered over it; the wound had begun bleeding again the moment he’d peeled his undersuit off. It was lying on the floor nearby, alongside his battered armor. “This might feel a little uncomfortable, but I need to know if there’s a chance of internal infection or organ damage.”

“Proceed.” He swallowed as the mare’s horn lit, the same blue glow peeling back the bandage and then pushing into his side, an uncomfortable pressure building inside his gut as the medic went to work. Several awkward seconds passed as he fought the urge to move to one side, away from the growing pressure in his insides, but then mercifully it faded.

“You’re in luck,” the medic said, horn no longer glowing. “No damage to any vital organs, only surface damage to the abdominal wall and muscles. Whatever blade you were cut with was not poisoned, and furthermore was in good condition: the incision is clean. With some stitches and rest, you should be fine in a week.”

“I don’t believe we have a week,” he said, looking at the medic as she moved to check the cut on his foreleg. “The other half of our team is still out there.”

“Well,” the mare said. He couldn’t remember her name, though he was sure she’d mentioned it at some point. “I wouldn’t recommend it. Your own doctor will be the one to make the final decision, of course.”

He nodded, silent. There wasn’t much to say. He already knew what Dawn’s decision would be. The fact that both she and Steel were at work despite their own injuries was proof enough of that.

And we are Dusk Guard, he thought. We charge when others would falter.

“All right. This cut on your leg is mostly the same. Very clean. Not nearly as deep, naturally, or you’d be having trouble walking on it. A little bit of magic, though, and it’ll be good for you to move around on, as long as you don’t tear it open from overexertion. Which …” The mare’s blue eyes rolled up and down his body.

Blue. Like Sky Bolt’s mane.

“… I’m guessing is something that may be an issue, given your commanders and what I’ve seen and heard regarding you ponies. Still considering what happened in here, I’d say you’re both lucky and skilled to have come out of it as lightly as you did. And you know, not dead?” She gave him a weak smile.

Dead. His gaze, which had slipped aside somewhere in the last few moments, moved back to her. “Would it be possible for you to reattach the bandage on my side?” he asked carefully. “I need to use the restroom.”

“It’ll hold only temporarily with a sticking spell,” the medic warned. “But yes. Just … don’t attempt to wash it?” She gave him a little smile, and he nodded.

“Of course not,” he said, watching as her magic enveloped the bandage and applied it to his side once more.

“Good,” she said, her magic pressing against his side a final time and then vanishing. “I’ll go speak with your lieutenant. The nearest restroom is right over there—” She pointed at a door partway across the hall with one hoof. “—and we already checked to make sure it works. Just be careful, and don’t wander off anywhere else, okay?”

“Naelewa,” he said with another nod as he rose to his hooves, stepping off of the bench the medic had been using as an examination table. Or was it a “stretcher?” Sky Bolt would know. So would Dawn.

He trotted across the hall slowly, taking his time as to not interfere with the Royal Guard ponies moving in all directions. Under Captain Armor and Captain Song’s direction, the Guard was swiftly putting the palace back together. A unicorn trotted past him, one of the Order’s red banners rolled up and held in his magic. They were being taken down all across the city and passed over to a temporary council of crystal ponies to use as proof of the Order’s fall.

Not, he’d overheard, that many of them accepted it yet. Too many had simply barricaded their doors and locked themselves inside their homes even as the banners came down, fearful that it was all an illusion, and that Sombra would return at any moment.

He’d overheard some of the Guard had express incredulity at the mindset, but they just didn’t understand. He was hardly sure he did himself. But after the last few days? Even peering into the world that the crystal ponies had lived under had made him feel ill. To have lived under it?

It’s no wonder they don’t believe us, he thought as he pressed the door to the bathroom open. He ruled over them for years, everything goes strange, and now a bunch of ponies they don’t know and recognize say that a millennium has passed, and the world is different, and everything is fine.

The bathroom was … odd. Strange, at least to his eyes, though he had no doubt that a number of the Royal Guard would find it as perplexing yet familiar as he did. Still, it wasn’t too hard to figure out how the toilet operated, nor to identify the sink, though it was more of a broad basin that multiple ponies could use at once situated below a reflective mirror that looked … odd. He wasn’t quite sure how to put it. Old maybe. The image of himself in its depths didn’t seem quite as clear or sharp as the mirrors he was familiar with. Perhaps the glass was in fact crystal.

He stared at himself in the mirror for a moment, hooves damp with cool water, and then threw up.

He wasn’t sure how much time passed before his heavings ceased. Far longer than there had been any content in his stomach to remove, the foul-smelling sludge sitting in the basin having entirely exited his body in the first few moments. Every moment after that had seen his stomach clench, dry gags coming from his mouth as he’d tried to expel what he didn’t have. Each jerk of his sides had seen the cut to the same send out waves of stabbing pain, but his body had refused to answer them, instead delivering another heave that had felt like a kick to the gut.

He was shaking now, his whole body trembling and quivering. A bit of ichor had dribbled down his chin, and he activated the water once more, wiping it away and slowly washing the residue of his insides down the sink.

Suddenly he was unbearably thirsty, his mouth dry. He took a deep breath, drawing it in and holding it before letting it out as slowly as he could. Gradually the shaking weakness in his limbs went away, leaving only a slight trembling in his ears and tail and a lingering pain in his side where his wounded muscles loudly complained about his actions.

He waited a moment longer, washing down the sink to remove all traces of his vomit and then smoothed his own muzzle down, washing his face and finding a red cloth towel to dry his coat with. Then, satisfied that his appearance was somewhat satisfactory, he headed back out into the main entry hall, walking quietly back to the bench by his gear while the Royal Guard rushed around him.

A series of cascading cracks in the floor caught his eye as he walked, a brief memory flashing back to him, and he looked up, eyeing the distant balcony he’d thrown himself off of during the fight.

It was, he realized, a lot further up than it had felt like at the time. Sky Bolt’s mod likely saved my life. As had her armor, multiple times.

He swallowed again, his mouth dry as he continued to the bench, searching for signs of the rest of the team. Dawn was deep in a discussion with the medic who had treated him, while Captain Song …

There was no sign of the captain. Or of his counterpart in the Royal Guard. Which likely meant that one or both of them was dealing with something.

He let his body drop back onto the bench, staring at Lieutenant Triage as she carried on a conversation with the Guard medic. An animated conversation. Apparently they were in disagreement about something.

Probably my injuries. A moment later the medic made a gesture in his direction, solidifying the theory. He twitched his ears forward, but one of them must have been using magic to muffle their debate, because he couldn’t pick up any of the discussion.

Judging by their expressions, however, Dawn was going to have the final word. As he watched, the medic threw her hooves up with a shake of her head and stormed off, the sound of her hoofsteps suddenly adding to the mixture as Dawn turned to look at him before slowly, and with some stiffness, rising from her cot to trot over.

She healed her injury already? He couldn’t see the site of the stab wound she’d taken from his current position, but he remembered where it was quite clearly. Granted, there was a bandage in the way, a fresh one, but she was moving around under her own power.

“Sabra,” Dawn said as she came close. Then her nose wrinkled, and she stopped. “Wow … please don’t take this improperly but … you don’t exactly smell wonderful at the moment.” Her horn glowed, an orange glow rushing over him. She turned a sideways glance at his battered armor and still-bloodied undersuit as well. “I can get to those in a moment,” she said, stepping up close to him once more. “How are you feeling?”

“My side hurts.”

“I’m aware,” Dawn said, her horn glowing and peeling the bandage back from his side. “And before you ask, I can treat it, though I’ll need something from my saddlebags. But I didn’t ask about your injuries. I asked how you felt.”

“I … I am afraid I do not understand.”

Dawn let out a soft sigh, even as her horn glowed brighter, summoning her saddlebags from near where she’d been lying on her cot. “Sabra, you clearly threw up not minutes ago, and I know from the medic who triaged you that it was not because of an internal injury. Not a physical one anyway. You’re having an emotional reaction to everything we’ve just gone through. A completely understandable one. I …” Her voice faltered, and she cleared it quietly before speaking again.

“I know at times I can seem cold and impassive because I’m focused on my work, and for that I apologize. But right now I don’t need to know how your injuries feel. Unless I do something wrong, of course,” she added quickly as her saddlebags arrived. She set them to one side, her magic glowing as she began to pull out instruments and gauze.

“What I need to know, Sabra,” she said, looking him in the eyes. “Is how you feel.” A wad of cotton cloth doused with something moved to his side, and he felt a faint sting as she went to work. “I know the captain talks about how we’re the Dusk Guard, the best and the toughest, and he isn’t wrong. Each of us is exemplary. But that doesn’t mean we’re immune to the trials of our work. Take, for example, one of my tools.” A thermometer floated up in front of his face, and by reflex he opened his mouth.

Dawn smiled. “Not today, Sabra. I bring it out only to illustrate a point. This thermometer is far hardier than an ordinary thermometer one would find in a doctor’s office. But it doesn’t mean that dropping it to the ground would be any less of an impact on it than that regular thermometer. What I’m saying is …” She paused, floating the thermometer back into her bags. “Well, what I’m saying is that while we may indeed be the best of the Guard, that doesn’t make the wounds we take any less severe. Be they physical or emotional.”

He nodded. “I …” His voice cracked, throat dry, and suddenly there was a small metal cup in front of him, filling from a canteen. “Asante,” he said as he took it. Dawn nodded but didn’t speak, waiting as he drank and refilling the cup twice before he waved it away. The cool water felt good against his throat, like it was washing away something harsh and sticky.

“Asante,” he said again as she floated the cup away. “I feel …” Words died in his throat. “I feel now like I understand some of the histories of my people I read growing up. Words that I studied and learned. I could understand them, but I couldn’t. Now I understand.”

Dawn nodded as he finished speaking, carefully cleaning his wound. He waited for a moment, but she didn’t speak, and more words came to mind, drifting out of the currents of his head.

“I feel … empty,” he said at last. “I know we did something good, something that had to be done. We stood up to something evil and aided those caught beneath its hoof. We’ve done that before, with golems. But these weren’t golems … These were ponies. Living beings. Not creatures without capacity for rational thought, but ponies with living, breathing aspirations. Who then used their talents and skills for evil.” A memory of the torture chamber he’d seen flashed through his mind, sending a shudder down his body. “I’ve never taken a life before this mission. I never had to.”

“How do I feel?” He lifted a hoof and stared at it for a moment before lowering it down once more and looking at Dawn. “I can’t quite explain it. Even in my native tongue, I fear I wouldn’t be able to find the words.”

“Haunted?”

He rolled the term around his mind. “In part. I suppose that could suffice for some of it. Perhaps sad as well, yet understanding.”

“How so?” There was a flash of heat from his side in time with a bright glow from her horn.

“There was no other path forward,” he said, shifting slightly and setting his shoulders. “Argent and the rest of the Order were evil. I don’t believe I’m feeling the way I am because I believe what we did was wrong. No,” he corrected quickly. “I know it wasn’t. Somepony had to stop them, stand up to them. We were those ponies.”

The words stopped for a moment, but Dawn didn’t say anything. “I suppose,” he said after a moment. “That it is much like when I was a colt and was first admitted to the monastery. I knew it was a good thing, I knew that my parents were proud of me and loved me. But each night, until I grew used to being apart, I missed them, alone in my room. But I could not stay with them forever, even if I had left the monastery and gone home. Eventually, our lives must have discomfort in order to move forward.”

He paused and let out a hiss as another flash of pain rolled through his side. “Sorry,” Dawn said. “I want to make certain that this is clean.”

“It is fine,” he said, the pain already fading as Dawn swept an orange glow across his side. “In any case, I believe that what I’m saying is that this was like that. Someone had to stop the Order, experience the discomfort. And now I have, and am, but there is little I can do but bow my head and move forward, accepting it.”

“Hmm …” Dawn pulled her head back, looking right at him. “I would disagree with the last bit of your statement. About what you can do.”

“What can I do?”

“Sabra,” Dawn said, setting her tools down. “We are the Dusk Guard. Not Steel, or Hunter, nor Sky Bolt or Nova or I or you. We. That doesn’t just mean we share training and accomplishments, it means we share the hardships too. Especially ones like these, that we’ve gone through together.” She placed a hoof on his shoulder, her blue eyes staring into his. “So there’s more that you can do than bow your head and push forward. You can lock your limbs with ours, and we can all move forward. Together. You don’t have to hide that you threw up in the bathroom. When I was your age—well, a little older—and in the Rangers, I too threw up once after a close call with a chimera. We’ve been under a great amount of stress these last few days, and seen many things that would see normal ponies in shock. Quite frankly, I’d be more surprised if you hadn’t shown signs of stress. And worried.”

“I … That does make me feel a little better. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Dawn said, pulling her hoof away. “That said, I know that us simply being here for you isn’t enough to be a surefire cure-all. Your heart is your own, and while we can help as best we can, we cannot force it to heal, no more than I can simply magic your side back together. Well, not without a lot of magic and several risky spells that can come with dangerous side-effects. We’re working on countering those.”

“What I’m getting at is that how you feel is ultimately your call to make,” she continued as she went back to looking at his side. “We are a team, and we—and I—will back you every step of the way. If you wish to talk about something, we are here for you. Never forget that. There is no burden that you have to shoulder alone. If you need time to understand how to best shoulder that burden first, whether it’s carried alone or among all of us, then we will abide and respect that as well.”

“But,” she said, eyes darting to his for a bare moment. “You never have to be alone if you do not wish it. Acceptance is one thing. But alone?” She shook her head. “Now, I’m numbing the pain with my magic, but even with that, this next bit is going to hurt. Are you ready?”

He nodded, only to let out a gasp a moment later as flames rolled up his side and deep into his gut.

“There,” Dawn said, a second, lighter wave of pain following that almost made him feel faint. “I apologize for the pain, Sabra, but there is only so much magic can do. Now, I also need to look at your foreleg and your hind leg.”

He nodded mutely and held the wounded forelimb up for her to look at. Her magic rolled over it, and a moment later she was tending to the injury with a salve from her bag. The same salve went on his side a moment later, followed by a thin, tough-looking bandage that she assured him wouldn’t come off unless he cut it free.

“The sticking charm is a powerful one,” she said, pressing it into place against his side. “Similar to the one holding some of your severed muscle fibers together right now. It will fade away fairly quickly, but not before your body’s own healing as well as the healing spells take effect and began to work things back together.”

“The injury to your forelimb is light, and won’t prove a problem provided it doesn’t get infected. You’ll want to apply a bandage over it as well before putting your undersuit back on. Carefully, so that the suit doesn’t peel the bandage back.”

“As for your left hind leg, you seem to have come extremely close to frostbite, but there doesn’t appear to be any permanent damage. Keep it dry and warm, and you should be fine. Your internals however …” She pulled back slightly, letting down his rear hoof. “You’ve nearly cracked several bones, and have strained numerous muscles. I can speed the healing with my magic, but you’ll want to rest for at least a day before doing anything strenuous to avoid causing further injury.”

“That said …” She took a step back, rolling up a batch of blood-stained gauze tightly in her magic. “How do you feel?”

“I …” He fell inward for a moment, shutting his eyes. “I feel better,” he said after a moment. “But not whole.”

Dawn nodded. “I understand. Do you need time, or …?”

“Time, I think,” he said, returning her nod. “And perhaps …” His stomach let out a small rumble. “Some food?”

“Well, appetite is a good sign, especially after a magical healing,” Dawn said. “I’ll have some food brought to you.”

“And … I think I’d like to go outside.”

Dawn nodded. “Just don’t run there. I’ll see to your armor. Especially the cleaning,” she said, eyeing his undersuit. “If you wish to talk, Steel and I will listen.”

“Asante,” he said, rising and feeling a faint stiffness in his side where the bandage was. “I will be by the front steps.”

He took his time moving across the main hall, stopping occasionally as Royal Guard rushed past on some mission or another. I am glad they arrived when they did, he thought as he came to a rest by the door, waiting and letting the dull warmth in his side fade. If they hadn’t …

A faint chill ran through him. Each of them would have died. If Captain Armor hadn’t concluded from his scouts that there was a battle going on in the palace and taken his best forces straight to it, or had he arrived a moment too late …

But he hadn’t, and instead had been able to take full advantage of Argent’s focus to set up a perfect ambush. Sabra slipped through the front doors and out onto the main steps, the air cool, but not so cool that he immediately wanted for a blanket. It was still early morning, the sky pink, and he glanced at the horizon, shading his eyes with one limb. He felt … tired. His last rest had been that morning, but it felt as though a week had passed since then. One without sleep, yet still with its own brand of nightmares.

He moved off to the side, away from the traffic moving in and out of the doors, and carefully lowered himself to the ground. The streets around him were mostly empty, and the few ponies he could see were clad in the golden armor of the royal guard.

For the most part. Here and there he could see a crystal pony moving about. But their heads were lowered, their glances furtive. Too many of them lived for so long under the Order. He watched as a pair of Royal Guard rushed past, and one of the crystal ponies all but hid.

The Order. His stomach made a small flip as the memories of the morning rushed back in. The feeling of bone cracking beneath his Fimbo, the horror as more of them came at him. A slow, cold shiver worked its way down his back, and he shut his eyes against the world as more images flashed across his mind. The mare with the rapier. The stallion with the orbs. Argent. His hooves lashing out, breaking bone and horn beneath his blows. I did that, he thought, his stomach clenching. I did—

Laughter echoed through the air, and his memories came to a crashing halt. For a moment he lay frozen, but then the sound echoed again, and he opened his eyes, looking out over the city.

A small crystal pony colt was running back and forth across the street, eyes wide and a smile on their muzzle as they watched the Guard move around them. From a nearby home came an alarmed cry, a mother warning the child to come back inside, but the colt laughed, darting further across the street and waving at the Guard. Several of them waved back, and he laughed again, his coat shimmering under the sun.

His mother—or maybe older sister, he wasn’t sure—bolted out of the house and caught him, pulling him back toward the house with worried glances at the Guard, but it didn’t take away the colt’s smile. Nor the shout of “No more Sombra!” echoing across the street. A few of the Guard smiled and echoed his cry with their own, just before the mare pulled the colt back inside.

Moments later, however, Sabra caught sight of the colt’s eyes at the nearest window, poking out from beneath the heavy curtains, watching as the Guard continued onward with a wide smile.

He’s free, Sabra thought as the colt watched. And he knows it. The city is no longer the Order’s. The twist in his gut eased, the chill gone. Because of us. A faint warmth began to move through him, like the heat from a lit match.

We did that, he thought as he watched the wide-eyed colt cheer from inside his home. He looked up, tilting his head back, and noting that somepony had removed the red-and-black banners from the palace tower, leaving its surface clear and polished, a single solid spear of crystal pointing up into the sky.

“Specialist?” A Guard by the door pulled his attention away from the spire above them scant moments before a warm scent caught his nose, his stomach growling. “Your lieutenant said you needed some food? Hot food, preferably? I wasn’t sure if she meant spicy or warm, but the kitchen was well stocked, so I just grabbed a platter—”

“Thank you.” A sudden, gnawing hunger was clawing at his inside, and he reached to take the platter, inhaling deeply and feeling his mouth water.

“You’re Sabra, right?”

He looked up from the platter, mouth already burning with a hot potato. “Yes.” The word came out muffled but inteligible enough.

“I thought so.” The Guard waved one hoof. “You’ve faced me on the training field before. Well, me and like, four other guys. Never won any bits off of you. You guys are good. Like, the best.”

He swallowed, hardly tasting whatever he’d just had a bite of. “Thank you.”

“No, thank you,” the Guard said. “If it hadn’t been for you guys, who knows how many of us might not have made it if we’d just come in here and gone hoof-to-hoof with them. I mean, yeah, we had to come in and help out at the end, but we didn’t lose anyone. It’s not that I’m not willing to get hurt or die for Equestria, I just … Because of you guys, none of us did. And you didn’t even lose anyone. So … thanks. For being so good.”

“Anyway …” He rubbed at the back of his head with one hoof. “I should get back to my duties. I just wanted to say thanks. Are you going to want more, or …?”

Sabra shook his head. “No, but thank you. And …” He thought for a moment. “You’re welcome.”

“Hey, you need anything, just let one of us know. I heard about some of what was getting thrown around. Our armor isn’t built for that kind of fight. We’re all about numbers. But seriously, grab any of us if you need more food. All of us owe you guys, as far as we’re concerned.” The Guard gave him a nod and then ducked back through the front doors. A few other Guards rushed out and took wing a moment later, flying off to different parts of the city. Messengers.

He set the tray on the ground and took a bite out of an unfamiliar-looking vegetable that had a sweet taste to it. Maybe it was the food, or maybe it was the fresh air. The colt’s laughter, perhaps. Or Dawn’s words, or those of the Guard. Maybe all of them.

But he felt a little better all the same. Still, he frowned for a moment as he stared at the sky, eyeing the pink early morning light. The sun rises in the east … so where is it? He couldn’t see any sign of it save …

Above the storm, he thought, turning his gaze up. A look the the west showed no sign of the sun coming down to tint the sky either. So why …? Dakika Moja. He narrowed his eyes, staring up at the storm and the faint blue shades amidst the grey.

The dome over the city is blue. He shook his head. Blue … would imply that Princess Cadance is already in the city, would it not? But since he hadn’t seen her, that probably meant that she’d been brought in stealthily.

A wise idea, he thought pulling his gaze away from the storm outside and taking another bit of his meal. Just in case there are still Order members or collaborators out there who would relish a target of opportunity.

Not that he imagined Captain Armor would travel too far from his wife’s side without leaving her a heavy guard. Not until the city was cleared and all threats had been accounted for.

A set of heavy hoofsteps slowing behind him alerted him to Captain Song’s presence, and he moved to rise.

“Don’t, Sabra,” Steel said, catching him halfway through the motion. “At ease.” There was a soft chuckle, and Steel stepped into view next to him, his olive green coat matted. “By Celestia’s beard, we trained you too well.” Then he dropped to his belly, not quite out of the way of the main body of ponies passing by … But then as a captain he probably didn’t need to bother if he didn’t feel like it.

“So …” Steel said, looking at him and then turning his attention back to the city spread out before them. “Dawn just read me the riot act, and you can probably guess why.”

He stared for a moment before making a guess. “Your injuries?”

Steel let out a loud laugh. “No,” he said, shaking his head. “Because I hadn’t come to check on you yet. And …” He shrugged. “She’s not wrong. And for that I apologize, Sabra. You were in good hooves, but you’re my private.”

“You had things to do,” Sabra replied, before taking another bite of his meal. “You are a captain. The Royal Guard needed your instruction.”

“Doesn’t mean I couldn’t have spared a moment to check on my team,” Steel said, his voice low, almost tired. “Instead, once I heard you were all right, I went right to work. I was wrong, so I’m apologizing.”

“Well, then I accept your apology, captain.”

Steel nodded, looking at him once more. “So … what was the final tally?”

“Sir?”

“Injuries.”

“Ah.” He motioned toward the bandages on his side. “A cut on my side that tore some muscle. Dawn has already pushed it back together, but it will need time to heal.” Steel nodded but said nothing. “A cut on my foreleg, not serious. And a close case of near frostbite on my rear hoof. My Fimbo, unfortunately, no longer functions, my undersuit has several holes, and there are multiple deep cracks on my armor.”

Steel waited until it was clear he’d finished speaking to respond. “Well, it could be worse. Sky Bolt’s armor did its job, keeping us alive. Having to replace a few pieces or even a whole suit isn’t much compared to what we did here today.” He turned away, looking out over the city, and Sabra took advantage of the distraction to take another bite of his food.

“But there’s more to us than our armor,” Steel said, turning back toward him. “Though I am sorry about your Fimbo. I’ll make sure Sky Bolt has the funds for a new one.”

“Maybe a better one,” he said through a mouthful of food, stomach clawing for more.

“Knowing her, I’d be surprised if it wasn’t. Especially if you tell her what did in this one. But aside from that, I was wondering how you were doing. Emotionally, not physically, unless the two intertwine.”

“Ah.” He nodded, then bit into another potato. “I was … doing worse, not long ago. But I needed to clear my head. Looking over this …” He couldn’t suppress a shiver, though whether it was from the cold or his own tangled emotions he couldn’t tell. “It has given me a sense of purpose to what we’ve gone through.”

Steel—more Captain Song now—nodded. “It’s not easy, sometimes. I’m glad to hear that you’re dealing with it.” He let out a small sigh. “So you’re doing all right?”

“I … believe so.” He shook his head. “It’s confusing, new, and terrible, and good. I feel as though I haven’t slept, and my life was a sequence of events in the last day some of which seem horrible while at the same time being impressive. I would be in awe at the telling had I not been there. I broke bone, on purpose. Meaning it. But had I not? Far more harm would have come from it. I think …” He paused, thinking. “I think now I understand. It is easy to think of our great calling when we train or fight a golem. But against true foes? It is … How does the Lieutenant put it? ‘Another thing entirely?’ There were beings from my homelands that have done similar, ancient heroes that faced the darker shadows of the world and held them at bay. I think … we did the right thing. Someone must be the one to stand against evil, to drive it back. There’s a brutality to it that can only be experienced to understand, but I would not take back what we did here today. After all, there’s a smiling colt in one of the houses down there who is glad to see the Order gone. He was smiling at the Guard until his family member dragged him indoors.”

Captain Song nodded. “And our near-loss?”

“I hadn’t thought of it like that, though I’ll admit that in the moment I was truly terrified. But …” He paused. “Actually, captain, there was an old general from the Plainslands who once said something you may enjoy. In Equestria, I suppose you would call him a captain, but among my people, he was a general.”

Steel nodded. “We don’t have anyone ranked above captain during peacetime as part of our reduced military status agreement with other nations. We had generals once.”

“Ah, well, he was General Jabari.”

“I’ve heard of him.”

“He was very famous.” There was a faint sense of pride swelling in his chest. “He fought against the jackals, and against their immortal, Anubis. Broke them. But not before he suffered a series of defeats, battles that were lost. Many other commanders called for his removal, declaring that a general that could not win battles was of no use to our people.”

“His response,” he continued, “was that none of them would be appropriate for the task either, as a general who could not handle a single defeat could never win a war. He held that one must learn to accept defeat as well as success, or one would never win. He then went on to use the lessons of his losses to crush the jackals completely and force Anubis to flee the Plainslands.”

“So, captain, if you ask that I am bothered that we lost, and that we almost perished … Well, in truth the latter one is alarming. I’m sure it will be on my mind in the days to come. But we only lost near the end, and we still emerged victorious. What lessons we take from it are ours to dwell upon and grow with.”

He stopped speaking, and for a moment the air between them was silent. He took advantage of the pause to take another bite. His food was cooling; perhaps the air outside was colder than he’d guessed. Steel seemed to be digesting everything Sabra had just said, with a somewhat distant look on his face that spoke of deep thought. After a few more seconds, he spoke.

“You know what Sabra?” He leaned over and wrapped a hoof around his shoulder. “With as much wisdom as that in your head, I’d be surprised if you didn’t come out of this better than any of us. Me? I’ll go home from this and see Cappy and go back to running things. But you?” He locked eyes with him, a small, faint smile on his muzzle. “You’re right. You’re going to be fine. Some adjustment, some thought … Who knows, maybe hundreds of years from now some young colt somewhere will be reading about your words of advice in a history book.”

“Provided they’re not last words like ‘that was a mistake’ I may be all right with that.” Steel’s eyes widened in surprise, and Sabra smiled. “As amusing as ironic deaths are, I would prefer a happy, long retirement to pass on my advice on not dying.”

Steel let out a scoff. “A joke? From you?” He shook his head. “You’re either better or worse than I thought, and now I’m not sure which.”

“Then you’ll have to …” Sabra paused, waiting for the phrase to come to him. “Play it by ear?”

“I will. But I think you’re right, Sabra. You’re going to be all right.” He let out a yawn and then rose. “While I’m here, where’d you get that food?”

“One of the Royal Guard brought it to me on Dawn’s orders,” Sabra began.

“Well, I guess I should figure out who she shouted at then,” Steel said, turning.

“But first … Captain?”

Steel paused at his words and looked back. “Yes?”

“How are you doing?”

Steel smiled. “Checking up on me, Sabra?”

“It seemed only fair, captain. We are, after all, a team.”

Steel nodded. “Well, my pride isn’t bruised. I’ve been on the receiving end of a battering like that before. But I’ll be stiff and tender for a while. Almost cracked a few bones. Plus I think my helmet’s going to be a total loss. Maybe not, but that last hit did a number on it. There’s a jagged crack across the visor. And I’ve got a light concussion, but the Guard medics already went over it, so I should be fine in a few hours. So …” He shrugged. “I’ve been a lot worse. Would have been if Armor and his ponies hadn’t shown up when they did.”

“You looked … burnt … earlier.”

Steel nodded. “Yeah, turns out that armor’s pretty good at stopping heat. Not perfect, but good at it. My mane and tail got a little crispy—” He motioned, and for the first time Sabra noticed that part of Steel’s grey mane was missing. “—but it beats the alternative. Didn’t do the color job any favors.”

“Anyway,” he continued with a tone of finality. “You sit tight and relax. The dome’s been augmented by the princess for more than an hour now, so Sky Bolt should be on her way with The Hummingbird. Get some sleep, freshen up, whatever you need.”

“My armor?”

“Taken care of. We won’t go anywhere without it. I promise.” The captain gave him a nod rather than a salute, then turned and walked back into the palace.

Sabra sat for a while longer, finishing his meal one bite at a time and looking out over the city. With the red banners gone it looked better, and as he watched the first of the Order towers began to come down, though he couldn’t see who was behind it at his distance.

With hope, as the trappings of their enslavement vanish, so will their spirit return. The streets were still mostly empty, many of the inhabitants preferring to stay inside and wait things out.

He couldn’t hold it against them. The few horrors he’d seen had been striking. To live under them for some time would take more than a single morning to recover from.

Especially if many of them believe that Sombra himself will simply return and bring it all back, he thought, another shiver running through his body. One that was from the cold, rather than from his choice of thoughts. More followed in quick succession, and he pushed himself up from the steps, collecting his plate and returning back to the interior of the palace where the air was warmer.

He searched for a moment for the Guard that had brought him his meal, looking for someone to return the plate to, but couldn’t pick them out from the number readying and fixing up the palace. There did seem to be fewer than before, however. Spreading out throughout the city, he thought. Taking care of— He yawned. Of things.

His whole body felt weary, like it’d been drained of energy. Even his bruises and injuries felt dampened. Guess what little sleep I got after the battle wasn’t enough. He took another look around the grand hall—shaft? Entryway?—but saw no sign of Steel or Dawn.

Probably dealing with relief efforts across the city, or taking care of the Order. There was a bench nearby with a sparkling cushion—Everything here seems to do that. How?—and he trotted over to it, yawning again as he lowered himself down atop it. The shining surface was soft and warm.

Maybe a quick meditation, he thought, setting the crystalline plate on the floor next to the bench. He shut his eyes, settling into a relaxed position. Just … a little bit … to clear …

He hadn’t even begun to regulate his breathing when he drifted off to sleep.

* * *

He didn’t dream. Not that he remembered. Here and there were faint flashes of awareness, of color and emotion that lashed out at him before fading into the endless void of a deep sleep. But when the world began to return to him, the first thing he noticed was that he felt warm. Not cool but taking in what warmth he could, but real warmth, his body pleasantly heated.

The second thing Sabra noticed was deep, rumbling drone, not unlike a large swarm of moto nyuchi. But more even, less … wild. And familiar.

Propellers. From an airship.

The third thing that came to his awareness was that he was no longer lying on the bench he’d fallen asleep on. There was a sheet beneath him, and a blanket over his back. Lastly, there was a comforting, familiar scent emanating from it, one his still-not-quite-awake mind couldn’t place but made him feel content.

The Hummingbird, he thought, shifting slightly. I’m aboard The Hummingbird. He shifted again, then opened his eyes slowly, wincing as bright light spilled over him. Sunlight.

Well, mostly sunlight. He was lying in his bunk aboard the airship, and there was light spilling through the window, but it was a single ray that had broken through the edges of the storm. The rest of the light was coming from the cabin, not nearly as bright, but enough with the momentary ray that he blinked a few times before adjusting.

A faint chill slid across his coat as he rose, the heavy blankets slipping down his back, and after a moment he ducked back down, wrapping them around his shoulders before rising again, this time taking them with him in a tight bundle. Even through the fog of having recently awoken, it felt good to be back on the airship once more, stepping lightly to offset its gentle swaying cadence, dropping his center of gravity as it jostled in a sudden gust, and feeling the soft, rubbery mats beneath his bare hooves.

How things change, he thought as he tucked the blankets tight around his body. A week or so ago I was a bystander. Now I am a resident. Or perhaps crewmember in good standing.

Two of the other bunks, he realized as he looked around the room, were occupied as his had been. Dawn was fast asleep in one, lying atop the blankets with her head tucked across her hooves, while Captain Song was spread out across his own bunk. Both appeared dead to the world, fatigue etched across their features even through the embrace of rest.

Well-earned rest, he thought moving quietly across the room toward his locker on the far wall. It still looked as bland as ever, but more telling was the dirty appearance of the other metal around it. In fact, the same could be said for the floor, and he hiked the blankets up with his teeth, keeping them from trailing across the streaks of dried dirt.

What has become of Sky, Hunter, and Nova’s mission? he wondered, pausing for a moment to stare at the dirt on the floor. There was no sign of any of them in the main cabin, which meant …

A small yawn worked its way free from his throat, and he paused. It likely means that they have been busy, he thought. Though since I do not see any of them …

He let the thought lie for a moment and quietly opened his locker, checking to see what was inside. There, carefully secured, was his armor and undersuit, both looking far cleaner than last he had seen them.

Content that his equipment was nearby, but not seeing any reason to put it on at the moment, he gently closed the locker door and moved to the hatch. Without any sign of Hunter or Nova, it was highly likely both had been left on the ground east of the empire. He moved to the cockpit hatch and, quietly as he could manage, released the latch, sliding it to one side.

Sky Bolt turned toward him as he stepped in, her flame-red eyes lighting like embers as she saw him, growing wide as her mouth opened—

And then closed again as he held up a hoof in front of his lips, nodding toward the door. He closed it, giving her a soft smile—and then the second the latch clicked she almost exploded out of her seat, forelegs and wings wrapping around him in a warm hug.

“I’m glad you’re alright,” she said, squeezing him tightly—but not too tightly, he noticed. At least not on his injured side. Even so, he felt an electric tingle run through his body, and he hugged her back. “When I saw the medics carrying you out in a bubble …” She pulled back and gave him another smile, but the expression didn’t stretch to her eyes.

“I believe Dawn felt I needed a nap more than I needed to be awake,” he said as her limbs finally loosened their hold on him. “Which, I might add, was thanks to your armor. For all of us.”

His words brought the smile back to her eyes, though not without a faint flash of a look he recognized as Sky’s mind going to work. “I still have some work to do,” she said. “And repairs. The undersuit needs to resist cutting more than it already does, but I can’t have it growing stiff, or …” She trailed off and shook her head, focusing on him once more. “I’m just glad you’re all right.”

“As am I. About you,” he added quickly. “I mean, I am grateful to have survived the city, and for your armor, but also that you are still in good health as well.” He snapped his jaw shut, aware that he’d started to ramble slightly.

Sky didn’t seem to mind. She even looked slightly reluctant as she finally pulled herself fully back into her seat. If he was honest, the sudden cold chill left by her no longer close proximity disappointed him as well. “Yeah, well, I’ve spent most of our mission flying The Hummingbird, so there hasn’t been much danger on my side. With the weather being what it is, I’ve had to keep piloting. Hunter and Nova have been the ones facing most of the danger. Somepony has to fly the ship though, so …”

“You look tired,” he said, moving across the bridge and dropping down atop her bunk.

“Just tired?” she asked, giving him a quick glance. Then her eyes widened slightly, cheeks reddening. “I mean, yes, I am.” Her words came out quickly. “I’ve been running on short-shifts of sleep keeping The Hummingbird in the air, so …” She shook her head. “I got some sleep when Hunter took over, before the dome went up, but …” She fanned her wings slightly. “As much as I love my baby, she definitely needs a more advanced autopilot.”

“And if there isn’t one?” The question was a ploy, and an obvious one, and she likely knew it, but at the same time …

“Then I’ll make one,” Sky said, her eyes lighting up again. “I’ll bet with enough crystals I could build a system that could cast some sort of distance-gauging magic, maybe. To figure out the distance to nearby objects and whether or not they’re moving. But to accurately estimate momentum I’d need …” Her voice trailed off, and then she shook her head. “You did that on purpose, didn’t you?” she asked, giving him a coy smile.

“Did what?” he asked, holding his face carefully steady. “I just asked a question.”

Sky rolled her eyes and batted at him with a wing. He ducked back, the tips of her primaries just tickling the tips of his ears. Then her expression was serious once more, eyes turning to her controls just to check on things before coming back to him. “Sabra,” she said quietly. “What did happen in the city? Steel was too tired to give me details, but Dawn said I needed to talk with you—”

A wise observation. He would need to thank the doctor later. He’d wanted to speak with Sky anyway, but broaching the subject …

“—but she wouldn’t say why, which only made me worry more. Steel said something about some battles and all of you almost dying and—” Her voice, which had been rising in pitch, cut off as she snapped her jaw shut. “And I’m rambling,” she said, her voice quiet. “I’m sorry, I just—”

“Don’t be,” he said with a shake of his head. “We are both tired, though I have the advantage of having just woken up. You speak with great speed because you care, and you were worried.” For the barest moment he was still, but then he reached out with one hoof and put it atop her own. “Thank you.”

“For rambling?”

“For caring. You only ramble when you care.”

He wasn’t sure how long they sat there, staring at one another, something unspoken but powerful passing between them. All he knew was that in that moment, for that brief instant, he understood some of what the great sages of old had spoken of. Like any colt, there had been that period in his life where he’d tried to understand one of the greatest powers of all, when he’d read scrolls and books on the subject, then sought it on his own. Only to stumble and fall more times than he could account, each time realizing how little he understood.

And now? Whatever was passing between them, at this moment. He felt that perhaps he understood, in the faintest sense, what those great minds had spoken of.

And then it was gone, but still there. Like the lingering embers of a campfire after the flames had gone, glowing within him as Sky Bolt smiled.

“Thank you,” she said quietly, her voice soft, and he understood what was behind those words. In her own way, she’d felt it too.

His next meditation, he knew, would be tumultuous.

“So,” Sky said, pulling her hoof way from his with no small amount of hesitation. Her eyes pulled away even slower, turning back to the controls with almost tangible regret. “What … did happen in the city?”

He nodded and took a deep breath, pulling his thoughts back together. She has trusted you with her fears after the golems. Return that trust.

He told her everything. Halting at first, his words stumbling over one another occasionally, and sometimes switching to his native tongue when he couldn’t find the word he needed, but over a passage of time he didn’t bother to account for, he told her everything. The Order, their battles, his blows, the cells … even the loss of his Fimbo.

Sky listened through it all, pulling her attention away only when necessary. And at last, when he’d finished with how he’d fallen asleep and woken up aboard The Hummingbird, she didn’t speak. She simply checked the controls, moved from the pilot’s seat, and wrapper her forelegs and wings around him in another hug.

Again that powerful, unspoken force swelled. And he knew, in some small way. There would still be challenges. Moments of fear. His next meditation would likely be a jumbled mess.

But everything, in the end, was going to be all right.

No, he realized as he held Sky close. It wouldn’t just be all right.

It will be even better.

Chapter 29

View Online

The distant boom echoed across the mountains, a rolling cascade that bounced back and forth like a slowly dying stampede. Hunter slowed, looking behind them and out over the side of the mountain. Off in the distance, a good few miles back, a plume of snow had risen into the air. As he watched, he could see it being shaped by the wind.

He waited, counting. One … two ...

A distant shriek of pain and rage echoed behind the blast. “Well,” he said, turning to look at Nova. “It worked. Nice spell.”

“Sounds like it just made him madder, though.”

Hunter shrugged. “Whatever keeps him following us.”

That had been their goal since they’d escaped the glacier. Keep moving, keep running. Keep Sombra focused on them, rather than on returning to the city. Especially since he’d “powered up” and gone from running away to chasing hard.

Still, as long as he keeps chasing us, Hunter thought, turning and resuming their upward slog through the snowpack. Until the Element Bearers arrive.

It wasn’t easy, however. Twice already they’d been forced to duck back and recover his attention, poking at his sides with flares or attacks until he rounded on them once more.

Keep him aggro. Keep him focused. A prospect that was becoming harder by the minute, thanks to the worsening weather. The sky around them was becoming more and more crook as the day marched on, residue from the storm around the empire leaking out over them once more.

Even worse, Sombra didn’t seem to care, while the weather mattered to him and Nova quite a bit.

Still, no sense dwelling on it. He turned back, down the steepening side of the mountain to look at Nova, who was following his path upward. “So was that it? Just that one boom?”

“Hey,” Nova replied. “It was a good boom.”

“Yeah, but I thought you said there was something special to it? A blast is great, but they’re tiring you out! We can’t just rely on a bang!” Especially not when we’re going to need a couple of them soon enough!

“It’s not just one!” Nova called back. The open area of the mountain they’d been waiting on, partially so that Sombra wouldn’t find it hard to locate them, was completely bare to the howling wind. And colder than a high-flier’s primaries. “There’s the first trap, but I attached it to a secondary spell so that it looked like I was close by, powering it. When he follows that, though …” He stopped speaking, as if waiting for something.

He wasn’t waiting long. Another, second boom echoed across the mountainside, this one followed much more quickly by a wordless shriek that set Hunter’s teeth on edge.

“That’ll happen,” Nova said, a tone of grim satisfaction in his voice.

“You set two charges?” Hunter asked. “Don’t those tire you out a lot?”

“Yeah, they do, but I made them smaller than normal.”

“But you set two. Nova, I really don’t want to try and carry your butt out of here.”

“I can handle it,” Nova said, an edge coming into his voice. “Trust me.”

“Good.” Hunter turned back to moving up the side of the mountain. “Because I’m going to need a couple of them next.”

“All at once?”

“Yup.”

“We bringing a mountain down on him or something?”

“Close, actually.” He nodded toward the peak they were climbing toward. “Hopefully, anyway, but see that snowpack?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s steep enough that if a little bit of it starts sliding, the whole thing might just come down. One big, dangerous mess.”

“Like an avalanche?”

“Yeah. Exactly.”

“And we’re below it.”

“Yeah. Climbing right up it. That’s why I want Sombra behind us and, thereby, below us.”

“Don’t loud noises like explosions set off avalanches sometimes?”

“Yup. In the Rangers, we’d use thunderclaps, magic blasts, or even earth pony magic to do it sometimes, to make an area safer.”

“So we’re marching up toward an avalanche—”

“Possible avalanche.”

“Possible avalanche, under a growing storm, and with explosive traps behind us.”

“Yup.” Hunter flapped his wings slightly as the deep snows threatened to swallow him.

“And if it turns into one before we get there?”

“Well, I can fly,” Hunter said, glancing back at Nova. “But that’s kind of one reason why I only expected the one blast. But … that’s a blue on my part. I could have told you why. You could have told me about what you’d actually set up, though.”

“Hey, you wanted him to follow us, and he’s following us,” Nova snapped, shooting a glare at him. “I don’t see you …” He paused, eyes shifting beneath his visor, and Hunter shook his head as the sudden surge of anger and annoyance faded.

“Okay, that is really getting annoying,” Nova said, turning to glare back at the distant plume of the second explosion.

“Agreed,” Hunter said, shaking his head. “Sorry. I should have told you what we were looking for.” He spared a glance of his own at the distant plume of snow, mostly faded dust carried by the wind now. More attention-grabbing was the dark cloud sliding over the landscape beneath it. “How does he do that at this distance?”

“Probably a broad area effect sent in our direction,” Nova answered. “It’d take a lot of power, but since he absorbed that body of his—”

“Ate it, more like.”

“—he seems to have plenty to spare. And maybe it’s just me, but that smoke cloud looks bigger all the time.”

“I don’t think it’s just looks,” Hunter said. “He’s getting stronger. Fast, too. Which means we’d better hurry.” And hope that Bolt gets back with the rest of the team soon. “Come on, let’s climb.”

They resumed their upward trek, clawing at the snow as they climbed higher and higher. Beneath their hooves, the mountainside grew steeper, the snow thick and crunchy on the surface, but wet and cloying once their hooves broke through.

Perfect conditions for an avalanche, Hunter thought as they hurried up the mountain, breathing hard through their helmets and slowing periodically to knock ice from their muzzles. We had who knows what sort of conditions before we arrived, but then had all that snow dumped during the storm. Then it cleared. Now it’s getting cold and hard on top of that again. Lots of different layers. Dangerous under most conditions.

And if they were lucky, they’d be able to make use of those same conditions. He glanced back down the mountain.

The black smoke was getting closer.

We dropped a glacier on you, he thought, starting back up the mountain once more. And it stopped you for a little while. Let’s see how you handle a mountainside!

Of course, they had to get to a safe spot first. So they wouldn’t get sucked into it themselves. Normally I’d just ride things out on a cloud but … He glanced back at Nova. Nova can’t cloudwalk, so that’s out. One more spell they hadn’t thought about using until it was needed. Nothing like a good shakedown.

On the other hoof, he could teleport now, provided he wasn’t so stuffed he couldn’t muster it. And with what I’m hoping to do, he might be pretty drained.

Still, things could be worse. While the weather was picking up, there was still plenty of light, so he had a good view of the steepening mountainside ahead, in all its snow-covered, craggy glory. If we weren’t being chased by some sort of crazy, magic, crystal-obsessed shade, it’d almost be relaxing.

The snow crust gave way beneath his hooves once more, plunging part of his body into cold, damp snow until he pulled it out. Perfect conditions for an avalanche. And with how steep we’re getting … Just a little longer.

Hopefully not too much longer. He could feel his limbs lagging, muscles crying for a break. He wasn’t sure how far they’d come since the glacier, but it wasn’t hard to guess that they’d taken maybe a third the normal time. Ahead, he spotted a small, level outcropping, and he pointed with one wing.

“There!” he said. “We’ll take a quick break while I get a look at things.” Nova nodded, relief evident in his eyes. Both of them were breathing hard, air whistling past the frozen grates in their helmets. They climbed up the last few dozen feet to the outcropping, and there he let himself sag, smacking the side of his helmet once more to kick the ice build-up free.

Okay, we’re at a good point, he thought, peering around at their surroundings. Mountain here is good and steep, with plenty of snow. Angled well too. If we set up one of Nova’s magic “bombs” there, and maybe there … and there … It should be enough to shake things up and get this mountainside moving. The black cloud pursuing them was getting closer, now. We’d have to trigger them when it’s too late for him to get out of the way. Plus, we need someplace safe we can ride it out … A tall, jagged outcropping of rock caught his eye, high above them. That should work.

“Alright Nova,” he said, turning. “I need three of those explosions of yours, all rigged to go at the same …” His voice trailed off, his ears twitching as something began to ease over the edge of the storm. “You hear that?”

“What?”

“It’s faint. Really faint. Like a whine?”

For a moment Nova was quiet, then he nodded. “Yeah, I do. It’s getting closer.”

A faint icy current of fear wrapped around Hunter’s gut. “It’s not undulating is it? Getting louder and then quieter?” It was hard to pick the sound out over the howl of the wind, but Nova was right. It was definitely getting louder.

More familiar, too.

“Oh feathers.” The curse was torn away by the wind, not that it mattered. The whine was rising in pitch, getting louder and louder, while below them, coming up the side of the mountain well ahead of the black cloud, he could see the snow churning.

He spun, rounding on Nova. “Can you cast while we run? We need a spell there, there, and there.” He pointed quickly, hoping that Nova could pick out the areas of interest he’d identified. “Make for that rock outcropping up there,” he finished, pointing. “Now run, I’ll try to keep them off of you! Go!”

To his credit, Nova didn’t ask or question. He simply darted ahead, running through the snow as fast as he could, horn glowing. Hunter watched him go, then turned and looked down the mountain.

There was no mistaking the sound now, a faint hissing shriek that was all to familiar. Mixed with churning snow as their pursuers rushed through it toward the small ledge of snow.

Iceworms, he thought as the swarm drew closer. A dozen of them, maybe more. With a thought, he activated his mod, a golden glow diffusing across the landscape.

And a harsh, purple glow emanating from more than a dozen snakelike figures cutting through the snowpack toward his position, moving with great speed.

Purple? His eyes narrowed. Sombra. Faint tendrils of shadowy haze trailed in the iceworms’ wake, driving them forward. Some had thick clumps of it around their heads, like choking masks. Guess he got tired of chasing us alone. Still, is it actual control, or is he driving them through fear?

The iceworms were only a few dozen feet away now. If they were behaving as normal, then they’d start to split, working to surround him before striking. But if Sombra’s magic had made them some sort of mindless, ravening horde …

The worms continued rushing straight for him, the hissing sizzle of their magic now rivaling the wind. There was no deviation, no split in the pack. In fact, a few on the edges began to angle straight toward his position, rather than away.

A quick glance up the side of the mountain showed that Nova wasn’t even a quarter of the way there yet. His horn was practically a sun through the effect of the mod, bright yellow magic swirling around him as he ran. But he’d not even cast the first spell yet. He’d need time.

All right then. He turned back to the swarm of iceworms almost on top of him. Then let’s rumble. He extended his wings, putting his body into a low crouch, and waited. One … two … Now!

He jumped, snapping his wings down as hard as he could just as the first of the iceworms went into a sharp rise under the snow. It broke through the thick, hard crust a moment later, its hardened head cutting through the ice like an arrowhead, opening in the air to expose a maw of sharp, razor-like teeth.

The teeth weren’t what captivated Hunter’s attention, however, even as the iceworm flew through the air just beneath him, barely missing the tips of his hooves. What did was the array of black crystals growing along the back of the thing’s head, an array of jagged crystal spines that seethed with dark magic.

Then, before the first iceworm had even begun its downward descent, he saw the nearest iceworms dive even deeper into the snowpack, driving themselves down into the snow in preparation for a meteoric rise.

Okay, so it’s control, Hunter thought, beating his wings frantically and throwing himself to the side as two more iceworms rushed up out of the snow, twisting in the air and trying to catch his wings and flanks with their cavernous jaws. Let’s hope he can’t pull that trick on ponies!

Two more iceworms leapt out of the snow at him, their long bodies arcing through the air, and he beat his wings hard, vying for more altitude even as the wind tried its best to shove him off course. Another iceworm came close enough that he delivered a kick at its side, only for a fourth to slam into his hindquarters, teeth screeching across his armor and then catching at the edges of the plate. It lost its grip in mere moments, but even those few moments drug him down through the air, allowing another iceworm to slam into his chest and throw him back. The impact hurt, but didn’t crack the armor.

I’m too heavy! No maneuverability! His hooves scrabbled at the straps holding his backpack and equipment in place. An iceworm slammed into him from the side, sending him spinning through the air—the sudden motion the only thing that kept two more iceworms from wrapping their jaws around his head.

Come on! Come on! His hooves slipped off the icy catches as another iceworm narrowly flew past his flanks, catching a few stray hairs of his tail. One catch gave, but the second was packed with snow. Come on you bodgy, skonky—

An iceworm slammed into his pack, yanking the clasp from his hooves and throwing him off-balance. The long body whipped past as he struggled to regain control, only coming to a halt with a jerk as the iceworm’s teeth, dug into the body of the pack, called it to a halt, further yanking him to one side.

He was losing altitude now, and control, the snow-covered mountainside coming up at him. And even as the mod faded, taking away his ability to peer through the snow at the dangerous predators beneath it, he could still hear dozens of them cutting through the snow at him, their bodies twisting in sharp turns and picking up speed as they rushed back toward him.

A rear hoof touched snow, the iceworm on his pack thrashing now, trying to wrap its long body around anything it could find and squeeze, forcing him to pull his wing in close or risk having it caught by the worm’s muscular body. He had to get off the ground, or they’d drag him down, suck him under the snow, and hold him there until he was either torn apart or died from lack of oxygen.

Or Sombra got him, whichever came first.

Another iceworm leapt out of the snow, and he turned, barely ducking its charge. He was out of time. And this stupid catch won’t give! The brittle plastic held up even as he slammed his hoof into his chest. Any second now the snow around him would be alive with iceworms wrapping around his legs, sucking him under, and he’d be forced to lay into them with—

Axes! His hoof snapped back, grabbing one of his ice axes and thankfully unclipping it without any problems. If you won’t work, he thought, pulling the axe back and looking down at his chest. Then you’ll break!

He swung the axe down at his chest … and the pick bit easily into the thick, brittle plastic, shattering the clasp.

“Yes!” He snapped his wings back, shucking the heavy pack free and darting across the snow, angry iceworms bursting forth in his passing. He twisted back, gaining altitude and spinning around. His pack was already being sucked under the snow by several worms, now fully wrapping their bodies around it. But more had turned those strange, bony heads toward him, made all the more alarming by the spines of crystal along the top side, reacting to his body heat and their strange magic senses. Several let out shrill cries as they surged toward him, but he wasn’t the same slow target he was before. The bulky drag of his pack was gone, half-buried in the snow, and he had an ice axe in each forehoof. He’d opted against putting on his snowshoes after the glacier, and while the choice had tired his wings, at the moment he was glad he hadn’t had to dump them as well.

The first iceworm launched out of the snow like a dolphin from a wave. But with far more teeth, and no dolphin he’d ever seen could make such a strange, hissing shriek. He snapped himself to one side, bringing both his axes down in overhead swipes. One slammed into the creature’s bony skull, sticking in the bone, while the other bit into the muscled flesh behind it, biting deep with a small spray of blood. The sudden weight threw him to the side, but he was ready for it, spinning in place and then yanking both axes free as soon as he’d turned. The iceworm, now flying back almost the way it had come, slammed into another iceworm in midair. Both coiled around one another, shrieking as they hit the snow.

One wounded, about a dozen or so more to go! Hunter thought as he dropped down and then darted left, dodging another flying iceworm and then dragging one axe down the side of another, the pick not biting but skipping off of the beast’s thick skin.

The pack was all but abandoned now, only one worm still dragging it beneath the surface of the snow. The other two had broken free and were coming to join the rest. He beat his wings, sailing over one and then darting past another, each time scoring light hits with his axes. A third took both picks to the skull, shrieking and writhing as he spun around and flung it away. It hit the snow, convulsing.

One down. But there were plenty left, and he kept moving as quickly as he could, switching angles and movements as fast as his tired wings would allow.

Nova was halfway to the outcropping, his horn glowing brightly.

He brought his axes down again. One bit into flesh, carving a long trench in a worm’s side, blood and ichor leaking out. The other bounced off of the crystal spines that crowned its skull, not even chipping the black material.

Still, an injury was an injury, and the iceworm spasmed as it hit the snow once more. It would recover in time, unless …

Yup, he thought as he yanked a hoof back, narrowly avoiding getting it trapped in a maw of teeth. It’s coming back around. Sombra, through fear or direct control, was forcing his acquired minions to act outside of the norm.

Fine. I’ll just do this the hard way. He’d put down iceworm packs before. Just not alone, and with different gear.

But I wasn’t a Dusk Guard then either, he thought as he did a forward flip through the air, bringing his axes down into the skull of an iceworm that had leapt for him, jaws agape. Both sank home with an almost sickening squish, the worm snapping its jaw shut and almost pulling one of the axes out of his hoof. He twisted in the air, letting the worm’s momentum guide his own until he was behind it, and then yanking on the axes to tug the worm to one side. He pulled the axes free just before it hit the snow, arcing up into the air as behind him, the worm slammed headlong into another.

Come on Nova, he thought as another iceworm leapt out of the snow, rising toward him with open jaws. He darted to one side, folding his wings in and using both axes to leave bloody tracks down its sides. Another worm he kicked, the crampons on his rear hooves punching into its flesh and leaving painful but light cuts across its thick skin. Move it! Nova was still only three-quarters of the way to the rocky crag, and clearly lagging after running almost a mile up the mountainside while casting.

Nova wasn’t the only one. His own muscles were burning now that the sudden rush of combat was over, the adrenaline sliding into a steady rhythm. His wings were tired from hours of half-flight with a heavy load, and the sudden, high-impact demands he was making of them were definitely going to hurt later.

Still, four of the iceworms were now down, writhing on the ground as they died or too wounded to be a threat. That left ten still racing around, but as Hunter brought his axes down again, this time at the climax of a dive, both picks biting deep into the side of an iceworm’s head, the number sank to nine. He jerked himself to the side as another dove for his back, then looped back and caught both sides of the creature’s jaw with his axes, yanking the thing’s maw wide open. Just in time for another iceworm, aiming for Hunter’s wings, to dive headfirst down the other’s gullet. He pulled his axes free, kicking off the first’s back, and rose into the air as both worms began to thrash, coiling and pulling against one another.

Seven to go. He could handle that many. Or even half of them, then start winging toward Nova. He dodged another iceworm easily, scoring its side with his rear hooves. Then Nova would detonate his magic, the avalanche would start, and—

A jagged crystal growth burst out of the snow a dozen feet before him, and he barely had time to slow before a wave of panic crashed down on him. Images flickered through his mind as his body locked up—his own flesh, torn and eaten, his corpse freezing in the snow, Swift lying dead on the mountainside with her frozen eyes staring up at him, Thistle lying in the streets of Canterlot with blood running out of the side of—

He slammed into the pillar, pain and a deep chill radiating along his side as he spun off course, slamming into the snow. He couldn’t breathe, ragged gasps echoing out of his throat as image after image rolled across his mind. Somehow his eyes slid to the jagged bit of crystal, and deep inside it, seeping out of the inky depths, were two green eyes that he couldn’t look away from no matter how much he wanted to, no matter how much he tried to force his head to turn.

“That’s right little pony …” The voice seemed to come from everywhere, all at once as image after image flashed through his mind. Steel being tortured. Crystal growths ripping Dawn apart. Sabra screaming as spells lashed at him. The team dying and losing over and over again.

“Scream …”

And then he was, though it didn’t even sound like his voice at first, but an unearthly howl ripping out of his throat as Swift, Derpy and Dinky, the team, and everyone else he’d ever known or loved died again and again before his eyes.

No … All of them were dying. Would die. There was nothing he could—

A golden shield slammed down in front of him, and he jerked, scream dying off as images vanished. The world came back in a sudden rush, instinct and training taking over as he threw himself into the air, barely avoiding an iceworm in his mad flight skyward. His limbs felt like jelly and his heart ached. He could feel wetness on his cheeks. Tears.

“Hunter! Go!” It was Nova. He’d turned around, come partway back down the mountain, horn glowing bright as he tried to hold control over both the shield he’d dropped over Sombra’s crystal and whatever explosive spells he’d managed to erect.

It wasn’t enough. Cracks were already appearing in Nova’s shield, jagged black marks that pulsed against it from the inside, swallowing the golden light and morphing it into something grey and brittle. The shield shattered a moment later, more black crystals springing out of the earth as up the mountainside, Nova let out a cry and stumbled as the backlash slammed into him, the glow around his horn faltering. Hunter let out another cry as well as the same all-consuming fear and loss swept over him, his wings locking …

Only to vanish as three titanic booms rolled across the mountain, so loud they made his ears ring, their concussive force a wall against his body. Snow followed in the explosions’ wake, thrown up at the mercy of the wind.

Then the whole mountainside began to shift, the snow shaking, and Hunter’s eyes went wide. The blowback from the loss of the shield had caused Nova’s concentration to lapse, setting off the spells meant to trigger the avalanche.

And Nova was right in the middle of it. He could already see the snow beginning to slide, breaking away down the mountain, carrying with it Sombra’s crystals as well as the iceworms, a deep roar building as thousands of tons of snow shifted.

“Nova!” The snow was already acting more like a liquid than a solid, flowing down the mountain. Hunter’s wings ached, but he couldn’t stop beating them, not with Nova struggling to keep his head above the shifting snows. Clouds of it were kicking up into the air now, and he pushed himself ahead, calling on every scrap of magic he had left to punch through the air toward Nova’s struggling form. If he lost sight of him …

“Gotcha!” he wrapped his hooves around Nova’s own, axes swinging in their loops as he flew upward with all the force he could muster, muscles burning like he’d set fire to them. Still, it was enough to get them above the rolling, sliding mountain, and as long as he could keep them up …

There was a faint pop and the world around jerked in a flash of yellow, their position suddenly much further up the mountain, closer to the rocky outcropping he’d spotted earlier. Sure enough, the outcropping itself was clear, the snow parting around it like floodwaters around a sturdy island.

Then with another pop they were there, and he let Nova go before folding his own wings and dropping to the stone, his hooves barely arresting his momentum as he hit, and certainly not with enough balance to be considered “landing.”

But he was down, body and soul aching even as the stone beneath them shook with the force of the calamity they’d unleashed. He rolled over onto his back, chest heaving, and he fumbled with the latch of his helmet several times before getting it to release. Cold wind stung at his face as he pulled the helmet away, but he didn’t care. At the moment he wanted nothing more than as much air as he could breathe and a little bit of openness, anything that could drive back the images in his mind.

“Hunter.” He latched on to Nova’s voice. Anything to try and pull his mind away from the images spilling through it. His mind felt sullied, lost, like Swift had died all over—

“Hunter!” Nova moved into view, a greenish helmet in his hooves.

My helmet, he thought. Nova shoved it down over his head. The anguish began to fade.

“What were you thinking?” Nova asked, tightening the straps around his chin. “The helmet keeps him out.”

“Sorry.” He pushed himself up, his breaths still coming in short, irregular gasps. “I wasn’t … I wasn’t thinking straight. Good thing you were here.” He looked at Nova at last. He’s alive, not dead. “I’m glad you’re here. That shield …” A shiver ran through his body, one he couldn’t stop. “Thanks.”

“What did he do to you?” There was a concerned edge to Nova’s voice he’d never heard before.

“He got inside my head,” he said, another shiver rolling through him. Around them the snow had mostly passed, but he could still hear it rumbling down the mountain. “Made me see things. Like that fear, but a million times worse. Everypony dying because we lost. Tortured. Made me feel crook. I still feel crook, like I’ve swallowed oil.” He took another breath. “If you hadn’t dropped that shield, he might have made me crack a fruity for real. So again,” he said, looking Nova in the eyes. “Thank you. I don’t … I don’t ever want to feel something like that again.”

“Well,” Nova said. “I didn’t want to die in an avalanche. So we’re even. Thanks.”

“No,” Hunter said, shaking his head and pushing himself to his hooves. “We’re not even. We’re teammates. And friends. And I am never letting what I just saw happen. To any of us.” He staggered over to the edge of the rock, peering down at the wall of white below them. The avalanche had swept over everything in its path. There was no sign of Sombra or his minion iceworms.

For now.

“Right,” he said, turning his head slightly to glance at Nova. “Quick break. Get a bite, relieve ourselves, a drink, whatever. Though I’ll have to borrow some food, mine went down with my pack. But take ten, fifteen. By then, he’ll probably be back on our tails. And if not, we’ll need to remind him.”

“So … fifteen minutes to rest and come up with a plan?” Nova asked, shucking his pack down on the stone.

“Yeah,” Hunter said, nodding. “Fifteen minutes. Or less.”

The rock’s surface was cold, even through his armor, but he dropped back down on it, letting his wings rest against his sides and regain some of their spent energy. His whole body felt wrung, like he’d been washed, dried, and then left out to hang somewhere. Except the line broke, and now I’m lying in the dirt.

Which is why we use drying machines, he thought as he laid there, his heart slowly ceasing its near-constant pound, his breathing at last coming easier. A stillness had settled over the mountain in the wake of the avalanche, like the world was holding its breath on what could come next.

Which is the real question, he thought as Nova passed him an insulated canteen. The water inside was so cold it made his teeth ache, and he settled for slow sips, warming each small mouthful before swallowing it down and sucking in another. He might be a cloud, but Sombra still has to interact with the real world all the same. The avalanche drove him back, but when he digs his way out, he’ll be right back on our tails. And probably stronger. And angrier.

A shiver crawled across him at the thought. No matter what we do, he just gets stronger and stronger. And we’re supposed to hold him back until the Bearers arrive? This isn’t just a hard yakka, it’s practically insane! How are we supposed to stop him? He was starting to breathe hard again as he ran the last few hours through his mind. Even if the rest of the team shows up, we’re still outmatched. Feathers, we were told that from the beginning! What are we supposed to do? Die? In some pointless attempt to stop this thing?

“Hunter?” Nova’s voice was like a slap against the quiet of the mountain, and he snapped his eyes to him.

“What?” His voice sounded strained. Off.

“Are you all right?”

“I … No. We can’t win this.”

Nova frowned. “We’re not supposed to win this. We’re a delaying action, remember?”

“No.” He shook his head. “We can’t do that either.” He could see it in his mind, visions dancing through his head. “We’ll screw up, and he’ll kill us. We can’t stop him.”

Nova frowned, staring at him with a curious expression on his face. “Hunter? Take off your helmet.”

“What? No!” He shook his head, barely noticing that his whole body was shaking like a leaf. “It’s the only thing keeping him out, even if it can’t hold him back all the way.”

“Hunter,” Nova said again, his tone … different. Dangerous. “Take. It. Off.” He was standing now, moving toward him.

“Nova?” He pushed himself up, backing away as Nova continued forward. “Stay where you are. That’s an order. I don’t want—”

Nova lunged forward, batting aside Hunter’s hoof as he tried to defend himself and jamming his horn into the underside of his chin, through the seam where the helmet and armor met. A strange tingle rolled across his body … and it went completely limp as Nova’s magic bypassed the resistances.

No! Nova, you … He couldn’t explain it, but Nova, the pony that had just saved his life, had turned on him. He wanted to scream, but his body wasn’t obeying his commands, caught in the stunning spell, leaving him powerless as Nova knelt and undid the clasp holding his helmet in place.

“Alright Hunter, this might feel a little uncomfortable,” Nova said, looking him right in the eyes as his horn began to glow. “But—”

Traitor! Madpony! His mind was racing in a hundred different directions, different voices shouting against one another as Nova’s horn flashed, a wave of yellow spilling out of it …

And then pain lanced through his skull, pain like nothing he’d ever known, a red-hot railroad spike that seemed to penetrate all the way into his brain. He would have screamed if he’d been able to control himself, flapped his wings, anything to make the pain stop … but then it shifted, pulling back, focusing near the front of his head.

Then with a mental slurp it broke free, the pain pulling out of his mind with a sudden freeing sensation … just as a cloud of purple miasma twisted out of his skull in the grips of Nova’s magic, writhing and pulsing in the air like some strange, malevolent force. Nova’s eyes narrowed, his magic flaring, and the cloud sizzled, melting away like steam under a hot sun.

Nova let out a sigh of relief and sank back on his haunches, looking down at him. “Feel better?”

Hunter nodded. Or at least, he tried to. His cheek scraped against the rock, head barely moving. It was in my head. A strange calm seemed to have descended on him. But it wasn’t strange at all. It was familiar. It was real, a contrast to the fake panic he’d felt just moments ago.

“Sorry about that,” Nova said, wiping a hoof across his visor. “I should have thought to check the moment we arrived.”

“Men …” His tongue still felt strange, but feeling was returning to his extremities. Including the side of his head, which now was starting to hurt from where it’d been dropped against the ground. And one of his wings was lying at an awkward angle. “Mental …”

Nova nodded. “That fear spell you got hit with. It wasn’t just a spell. There was something in it. Like a magical virus.”

Feeling had almost returned now, and he pushed himself up, wincing slightly as pins and needles rolled along one wing. “I … Thanks, Nova. I didn’t even—”

“We caught it. The fault’s mine. Dawn taught me a spell for looking for it, but I forgot to.”

Hunter smacked his lips, feeling coming back to them at last. Though they were so cold it was a little hard to tell. “That was … crook.” He shook his head. “It was like my own mind was turning against me.” A shiver, a real one this time, rolled down his back. “He was in my head.”

“Something from him, anyway,” Nova said, nodding. “It’s sick. I didn’t get a great look at it before I tore it apart, but it looks like it just … makes suggestions.”

He nodded. “That’s what it did. Played on my fears. Made them seem more real. Like we couldn’t win.” He wanted to vomit. Understanding that somepony could play with your mind, or even make you feel emotions that weren’t normal was one thing. But to be inside his head, messing with it directly, preying on his own fears …

“This guy’s a monster.” Another shiver ran through him. “You’d have to be to do something like that.”

“You would,” Nova agreed, horn glowing. Hunter’s helmet lifted from the ground and floated over to him. “Here.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. Besides, you’re a lot cooler when you’re, you know, you.”

“I like the real me better too. Less panicky.” The helmet slid back into place. If this is the real me. He shook his head quickly, driving the thought out.

“What?” Nova asked.

“Just shaking it off. Blasted thing was inside my own head, now I’m half-guessing my own thoughts.” He scowled. “And that was only after a few minutes. What would it have driven me too after an hour? A day?” Another shiver. “I don’t want to know.”

“Neither do I,” Nova agreed. “I like you the way you are. As much as I can like anyone who can order me around, anyway.” He winked. “And considering you’d technically have the authority to do that while evil-crazy, I think I’m better off sticking with normal-crazy.”

“Really?” He lifted on eyebrow. “I’m crazy?”

“The good kind of crazy. Would a normal pony take this job? Or drop an avalanche on an evil-dark-undead-ghost-thing?”

“That’s a good point. I’m starkers. But the good kind.” He let out a faint chuckle. It actually does feel a little better to say it out loud. “But what’s that make you? After all, you went along with it.”

“Depends on who you ask,” Nova replied, smirking. “Some would say I just go along with it because I have to. I mean, I do.”

“Uh huh. And others?”

“Well, they’d probably say I had ample opportunities to call it and cut out before now, so at this point, it’d just be because I’m crazy enough to stick around.”

“Well, I think that’s the best kind of crazy for a team like this. If you weren’t crazy, I’d be even more crazy right now.”

“We’re a team, like you said.” Nova cracked open his pack, floating out several ration bars. “Think you can bear to take your helmet off again?”

“For a bite to eat?” He took one of the bars, tugged his helmet up slightly, and took a bite. “Not all the way. Not until I’m either safe in The Hummingbird or this is over.” The bar was dry, crunchy, and not particularly tasty, but he swallowed it down all the same. “By the way, that spell you threw over me down there, the gold one? I don’t think I’ve seen that before.”

“It’s Princess Celestia’s,” Nova said, pausing from devouring his own ration bar. “After she heard that I was learning a bunch of Princess Luna’s old spells, she decided she wanted to teach me at least one. That shield was her choice. Seemed appropriate.”

“So … you can cast spells that both the princesses can?”

“Well, so could any other unicorn who took the time to study them, and they’re still powered by my magic, not theirs. If Princess Celestia were here, I don’t think hers would have broken so easily.”

“I wish she was.” He peered over the side of the outcropping. The mountain below them was still, no sign of a dark cloud sweeping toward them. “She’d be a lot better at this.”

“I don’t blame her for not wanting to be, though,” Nova replied. “I think she’s got a good reason.”

He almost spoke, but then the memory of their briefing came back, along with the princess’ warning. “She lost her sister,” he said slowly, half through a mouthful of dry ration bar. Then he paused. “You don’t think—”

“The same spell you were just hit with?” Nova cut in. “Yeah, I do. A little less subtle, I think, but the same thing, yeah.”

He shivered again at the memory. He got inside my head and I didn’t even realize it. I probably wouldn’t have even been able to see it with with my mod. We’re just lucky Nova realized what was going on when he did, or … He took another quick bite of his lunch. He didn’t want to think about it.

“So,” he said, changing the subject. “We still need to figure out what to do next. Sombra’s bound to dig his way out of that avalanche before long, and we’ve got to make sure he keeps tailing us.”

“For how much longer?” Nova asked. “I’m already feeling drained from all those explosions, plus the shield.”

“Well, the Guard were supposed to send word back the moment we dropped the signal flare, at which point Captain Armor and Princess Cadance were supposed to be dispatched and word sent to the Bearers, so … going off of distance and everything else, if Captain Armor arrived this morning, then that means the Bearers would probably make it from Ponyville to the end of the line around … early tomorrow morning?”

“And we’ve been at this for what, a few hours?”

“About eight, yeah,” Hunter said, swallowing the last of his ration bar and washing it down with another swig from Nova’s canteen. “The rest of the group should be here soon, but …”

“Until then, we’re on our own,” Nova said, nodding and sucking in a deep breath. “All right, any ideas?”

“Just the big one we’ve been doing. Running retreat. Keep him interested. At the moment, I’m drawing a blank.”

“Well, we can’t keep relying on explosions to draw him out,” Nova said. “I mean, the avalanche was great, and it was a good way to keep him chasing us, but I’m getting worn out over here.”

“How’d you keep the Guard chasing you?”

Nova’s eyes widened, his ears standing on end. “What?”

“The Royal Guard. Back when you were a thief,” Hunter said, rapping his own head with the bottom of his hoof. “Maybe we’re going about this all wrong. You’re the one with all the experience leading ponies on merry chases.”

“Those were Guard, though,” Nova said quickly. “Not murderous shades.”

Hunter shrugged and extended his wings. “He was a pony once. We’ve mostly been running and doing whatever I can think of. What about you? How would you keep him chasing you?”

“Well …” Nova took his canteen back and waved it idly with one hoof. “Insults, usually. General stuff like ‘you’ll have to be quicker than that’ or ‘ooh, almost had me.’ Stuff that gets on a pony’s nerves. Taunting. Traps, like the explosions we set up, but a lot less intensive.”

“Like what?”

“Well, I don’t think it’ll work here, but an empty box from an alley over a door, or tossed backward. Tip over somepony’s garbage can. Make a face even. Juvenile, but it works. Get somepony to chase you somewhere difficult, only to double back and make it look like you were never there in the first place.”

Hunter’s ears stood straight up. “Could we do that?”

“If we could get him chasing us? Maybe. I don’t know what would be difficult for something like him though. We have to go around trees, but he just seems to melt through them. I’d guess sunlight based on his shadow stuff, but it hasn’t seemed to bother him so far, and the weather’s getting worse, so we’re only going to get less of it. He’s somewhat tangible, though, so the weather might help.”

“I hope so.” He shot a sideways glance at the rolling storm building to the west. Even if they’d had a clear view, it would have been impossible to see the Crystal Empire now, shrouded as it was in storm clouds. Towering, massive clouds spreading in all directions. It wouldn’t quite be enough that he’d recommend fleeing the area, but … It will be at least as bad as the last one before it broke. And that storm had been pretty ferocious by the end. “So obstacles are iffy. What about traps?”

Nova rolled his head from one side to the other. “Again, we’d have to know what hurts him. Magic can, obviously, since he’s a creature of magic. Plus, we did annoy him with those explosions, and my beams seem to bother him. Enough physical interaction might? The avalanche seems to have buried him, though we don’t know for how long.”

Hunter nodded and took another quick glance down the mountain. It almost looked as though the avalanche had never happened, the wind already smoothing out the rough spots and distributing new snowfall across the mountainside. And there was still no sign of their pursuer. “You mentioned insults. How are you at illusions?”

“Not great.”

“Can you make a spell that makes a sound?”

Again Nova waggled a hoof. “Eh … so-so. Remember, usually with my job it was smarter to avoid magic whenever possible.”

“Right.” That, and that one bad experience you had with it probably didn’t help. “Still, you can do a basic tripwire, right?”

“Oh, like from my beam spell?” A beam of light shot out of his horn, striking the windswept rock. A second beam, this one dimmer, shone up from the ground where his initial magic had struck. He waved a hoof over it, and the beam blinked out with a pop. “Yeah. Been a while, but yeah.”

“Can we make one of those shout an insult? Like …” He paused for a moment, mouth hanging open. “Sombrero?”

“Sombrero?”

“You got a better one?”

“Well, not now,” Nova said. “But that doesn’t sound too hard. The beams are mine, so that’s always going to be easy. Making it say something? It might take a bit of work over the alarm we use during training, but if nothing else it’ll get his attention.”

Training. “That reminds me. That thing you did where you stuck your horn into the gap in my helmet. I’ve never seen you do that before. When’d you come up with that?”

Nova just shrugged. “About a month ago. I figured I’d keep my mouth shut about it, since it was too late to fix it, Sky Bolt already has it flagged as a weak point, and the fewer knew about it, the better.”

“Including your commanders?”

“I was right, wasn’t I?” Nova countered. “Besides, it’s the kind of weakness you’d have to be familiar with our armor to know about. Sky Bolt already figured it out, so I kept my mouth shut in case I needed it someday, either to win a bet during training, or ... Well I’ll admit stunning my superior so I could rip a magical brain parasite out of his head didn’t occur to me, but it happened, so …”

“Point taken.” He glanced down the mountain again. Still no change. Did he just give up, or … He activated his mod, the yellow glow flooding out over the world, searching to see if there was any sign of Sombra under the snow, but saw nothing.

“See anything?” Nova asked.

“No,” he said, shaking his head and dispelling the mod early. There was no point in draining the rest of the battery at the moment. “Maybe that avalanche hit him harder than we thought.”

“Or he’s running.”

“I hope it’s not that one. If it is, that means one of us is going to have to go down and check. And since I can’t pull a mind spell out of my head, that means you’d have to be the one to stay behind.” He let out a sigh. “Sometimes I wonder if I wouldn’t have been better off sticking with my station in Everfree.”

“Mint probably would have leveled half of Manehatten or something.”

“Fair dinkum. Besides, I’m here now.” Is that bit of snow moving, or … Trick of the light. “On the positive side of things, we’re up high, so we have a good view. If he moves for us, we’ll know. We’re still well away from the border, so we can retreat around the side of the mountain—”

“East?”

He shook his head, pulling his eyes away from the mountainside for a moment. “West. Steel and the rest of the team will be coming from that direction, and I want them to have as easy a time possible finding us.” Another flash of movement teased his eyes, and he stared at it. Was it another trick of the light, or …

No. It wasn’t the light. The snow was thrusting upwards, pushed aside as a tendril of black smoke broke through it. “Well, that answers that question.”

“Is he … Nevermind, I see it,” Nova said, stepping up to the edge of the stone. “Or him, I guess. So … what’s the plan?”

“Well, first we get his attention,” Hunter said, not pulling his eyes away from the amorphous mass boiling out of the snow. “Shouldn’t be hard, right? I mean, we did just drop a mountainside on him.”

“Okay, get his attention.”

“Then we make him chase us.”

“Step two.” Nova nodded. “What’s step three?”

“Well, we run …” Hunter said, mouth still dry. He ran his tongue over his teeth.

“Okay, and?”

“Around the west side of the mountain.”

“And …?” Nova was giving him an odd look now as below, the cloud continued to boil out of the snow.

“And then you’ll think of something to trap him with?” he answered, pulling his eyes away from Sombra to glance at Nova. “Maybe we run him in a circle?”

“A circle?” Nova said. “That’s it? That’s what you’ve got?”

“Hey, I came up with the avalanche. We established that, right?”

“I pulled that thing out of your head.”

“Feathers. All right. How about this.” The mass was seething now but seemed to have ceased growing. Now it was simply sending feelers in all directions. “We get his attention, run like mad, and drop as many traps behind us as we can.”

“Magic ones?”

“No.” He shook his head. “Not just magic ones. The avalanche worked, right? So we try everything. Rocks. Snares. We lost my pack, so we might as well use up the gear in yours. We find anything, and I mean anything that slows him down. Storm-clouds, whatever. We throw it all. And we keep running. Aggro him until he’s cracking a fruity. And hopefully at some point in that time, Steel and the others can show up and open up a few more options.”

Down below Sombra was beginning to move. West, this time, across the snow. “But right now, step one. We get his attention.” He reached down, undid the clasp beneath his helmet, and whistled.

The note echoed across the mountain, loud and shrill even over the wind. Sombra stopped, the black cloud whipping around.

“Hey!” Hunter shouted, cupping his hooves around his mouth and shouting as loud as he could. “Sombrero! You done already!?I thought you just needed some time to cool off!”

A loud, shrill scream echoed up the mountainside, and the cloud surged toward them. Hunter nodded, flapping his wings as he stepped back.

“What?” he asked. Nova was giving him a strange look.

“Cool off?” Nova asked. “Seriously? You went for a pun?”

“Didn’t hear you chinwagging any suggestions. Besides, it worked. Maybe he hates puns. Now, you said you could make your beam wire make a lot of noise, right?”

“I think so.”

“Drop a couple.”

“A couple?”

“As long as they don’t mess you up too badly.”

“Well, a high-pitched sound isn’t that hard to make.”

“Good.” He fanned his wings and glanced back. Sombra was already a quarter of the mountain. “Do it.”

“Doing it,” Nova said, his horn glowing and firing several small beams into the outcropping. “And done.”

“Quick work.”

“My spell. Running?”

Hunter held back a sigh as he looked at the steep mountainside above them. “Yeah,” he said. “More running.”

Chapter 30

View Online

“Captain!” Sabra called, poking his head out through the cockpit hatch. “There’s something ahead of us!” In the main cabin, Captain Song and Dawn looked up from the windows, lowering their glasses. “Directly ahead on the ground. It looks like bodies.”

“Dawn, keep watching the sides.” Sabra stepped out of the way as Steel crossed the cabin, stepping into the cockpit and crowding the small space. “Where?”

“There,” Sky Bolt said, pointing at a series of distant, discolored lumps in the snow ahead of them, scattered between a small copse of trees and a number of large, snow-swept rocks. Being in the open was what had drawn Sky Bolt’s eyes to the bodies in the first place. That and the faint crimson slashes of red soaked into the white around them, faded under the constantly falling snow but still visible even without binoculars despite the distance.

“Well, it’s too many to be Hunter and Nova,” Steel said, lifting his binoculars and steadying himself against the wall of the cockpit with one hoof when another gust of wind rolled over the airship. The storm that had been building since the last big burst had followed them from the city, spreading out and coating the mountains in a thick carpet of snow. “Unless they’re mixed in there but …” He went quiet for a moment, and Sabra shared a glance with Sky Bolt. While it was unspoken, that had been a worry for both of them.

“Yetis,” Steel said at last, not lowering the binoculars. “With some sort of black growth on their heads.” He turned, looking at Sky. “You said that Sombra used yetis, right?”

“Yes,” Sky said, nodding quickly. “He got them all worked up so that they’d attack everything nearby.”

“That might be what happened here,” Steel said, peering through the binoculars once more. Ahead of them, the small pile of bodies was drawing steadily closer. “I don’t see any other bodies though, just the yeti. Maybe they turned on one another, or ran into another pack. It could have been Hunter and Nova; the terrain there is ideal for an ambush, but against that many yeti?” He shook his head. “A direct confrontation like that would go differently. There’d be signs of magic use.” He turned the binoculars away, looking across the rest of the mountainside below them. “I don’t see any of that. Just a lot of churned snow and dead yeti. Maybe an advance guard that Sombra drove ahead of himself. There do seem to be tracks coming from the east.” He lowered the glasses and pointed. “The glacier’s not much further; just over that mountainside there.”

He paused for a moment, clearly thinking, and then nodded. “Keep our current course. That keeps us in-line with where they came from and the glacier. We’ve got dead yeti, but no clear sign of Sombra or the rest of our team yet.” The unspoken worry that either had slipped past them already went unsaid. “Good job spotting this. Keep it up.” With that, he turned and walked out of the cockpit, heading back to his position by the port windows of the main cabin.

“Poor yeti,” Sky said as soon as he was gone. “I mean, I know they’re vicious and aggressive, but that’s not their fault if Sombra’s in their heads.”

“Agreed,” Sabra said, moving back into position and lifting the cockpit’s binoculars once more. The distant snows leapt into fuzzy view, and he adjusted the focus just as Sky had shown him, sharpening them once more.

He checked the bodies again first, playing the glasses over them and feeling a faint shiver of revulsion run through him. He could see the black crystals growing from many of their heads now, like dark crowns. The crystals Sky had told them of had been grey, but if Sombra truly was growing stronger with every passing moment, then perhaps that explained the change in color. More snow lodged against the bodies as he watched, caught by small eddies and crevices against each still form. Slowly covering the dark blacks of the crystal and the reddish-pink of the snow in a blanket of white.

Before long, they’d be buried completely, no sign that they’d ever been save a few misshapen lumps. And what would happen then? Would they remain there, frozen for eternity until some unfortunate beast found them? Or would they sink down slowly through the layers, compacting along the bottom of the snowpack in a macabre graveyard? Maybe some of the iceworms that Sky had spoken of would find them and consume them, nature cycling onward in its great pattern.

He ran his eyes over the scene once more, checking for any last-minute details that he’d missed, but saw nothing save that which he’d already identified. Corpses, almost a mound of them. Bloodied claws, torn fur, and stained snow.

“Such callousness.” He pulled his gaze from the pile of bodies and went back to scanning the mountain ahead of them, searching for any sign of their team or the one called Sombra. “He enslaves them, only to cast them aside just as readily.”

“Was the whole city like that? All his followers?” Sky asked.

“It was. They were.” He'd only been able to fill her in on all of what he and the others had seen, but he knew she’d gathered a few observations from that as well. “To Sombra’s followers, the ponies that lived there were just tools. Like batteries. Items, not living beings. And when they did not fulfill what the Order declared their intended function …” He swallowed. “They had those cells. Designed to torment and abuse. Tools of torture.”

“That’s sick,” Sky said, disgust in her voice.

“Yes,” he agreed. “As sick as enslaving a band of yeti.” Taking the mind of another creature … The thought made him shiver, not that the cold air wasn’t doing its best about that already. Imposing one’s will over another’s for gain. “He is evil.”

Sky didn’t reply, but it wasn’t as if there was much more to say. Somewhere in the mountains around them—hopefully ahead and not behind—two members of their team were fighting to keep that evil from reaching its objective. According to what Captain Armor had relayed to them, the Element Bearers were expected to arrive the next morning. As long as Sombra made it to the city after that event, the Dusk Guard’s role in things would be over.

The Hummingbird shook again, a gust of wind jerking it upwards and downwards through the sky and making the view through his binoculars a confusing blur of motion. Not that there was much to see that wasn’t identical to what they’d seen before. Never in my young life could I have imagined that there could be so much snow. There were mountains in the Plainslands, and some of them had snow year round, but he’d never actually been to any of them. Snow itself was a rare occurrence for most other places in his homeland, and though he’d read of such places as the Crystal Mountains, actually seeing them stretching around him was … sobering.

Even the mountains around Whitetail Woods only saw snow in the winter, he thought as he slowly moved his gaze across another copse of snow-laden trees, searching for any signs of Hunter or Nova. Nothing but branches met his search, however, standing silent with their white coating and waving back and forth under the wind.

“The glacier will be in view in a few minutes,” Sky said, her voice pulling his focus away for a moment. “You should be able to see where I left them then.”

“Asante.” Technically, the glacier was already in view, at least to his right, weaving down out of the mountains ahead. But until they were close enough to rise over the mountain in front of them, he wouldn’t be able to see where Sky had left Hunter and Nova.

Trees. Rocks. Snow. Snow. Trees. Snow. Rocks. The constantly blowing snow made it hard to pick out details through the binoculars, a constant haze of white drifting back and forth across his view. Beneath him, The Hummingbird rumbled once more as a gust of wind caught against it, blurring his view even further.

“Hang on,” Sky said as the faint shaking continued, forcing him to try and pick out details as they zoomed past. “Let me take us up a few dozen feet. See if this doesn’t even out.” He nodded, but said nothing. They’d been in a constant battle of altitude as they’d begun searching, fighting to avoid the worst bits of the storm billowing out from the Crystal Empire. Sky had mentioned that it did appear that it was the last of the storm, the empire’s return meaning that there was no longer anything feeding the weather’s power, but it didn’t change the fact that one way or another, the Crystal Empire and the surrounding countryside would be feeling it for the next few days.

Life without a weather crew, he thought, view stabilizing once more. Then again, it is not as though a weather crew could have done much against that storm. Hunter had pointed out as much. With so much rogue energy being infused into it, a team that flew opposed would need to number in the hundreds, maybe even thousands, and be sore pressed to avoid injury and danger.

Better to let it take care of itself. To fortify one’s own position until the storm had passed. That was what they did in the Plainslands when a storm arrived. And, now that he was thinking about it, how trade caravans survived the light storms of the Turuncu Desert. You couldn’t stop them from occurring. You simply anticipated their arrival and prepared as best you could.

Though in all fairness, there was a fair bit of difference between a light storm and … whatever the weather outside their airship was. Snow-storm? Snow-thunder? Thunder-blizzard? He shoved a few Equestrian words together in his mind, searching for a common thread or cadence between them. A few felt like they fit, but given his still somewhat-limited grasp of more technical terms, it was likely that nothing he was thinking of was correct.

A storm is a storm, however, he thought, peering ahead as more of the scene past the closest mountain came into view. And when we’re out in it, I’m not sure knowing the proper name will be as important as knowing how to survive it. He felt an urge to reach back and check to make sure the heat mod was still in place on his armor, but kept his focus forward, waiting for the glacier to come into view. Almost there.

They were all wearing their armor now, including their helmets, which did make using the binoculars even more difficult than normal. Barring a direct order from Dawn, however, Steel’s directions had been clear. Helmets were not to be removed, even when drinking or eating. Which could be done, albeit with difficulty.

But there were to be no exceptions without Dawn’s express orders. Not after Sky had related the team’s experiences with Sombra messing with their heads and emotions. Even if they removed the rest of their armor and their suits, the helmet was to stay on.

Almost there. He could see what looked like open terrain coming up around the edges of the glacier. Any moment now the mountainside ahead of them would fall away, revealing the glacier as a whole. The airship shook again, momentarily blurring his view, but then, as it stabilized, their target came into full view at last.

It looked almost like a dirty, flat road. One that was hundreds of feet across, stretched between the embrace of two massive mountains. Filthy in some places, but clean in others, each shift a sharp, clean one, giving it a brushed look as though a master painter had lowered the implements of their craft from the sky and crafted it with a single, solitary swipe, each line a ridge of ice captured mid-stroke.

Save near the middle, where the whole image had crumbled and cracked, as though the paint had been allowed to bubble and then dry and then had later collapsed in on itself, forming a giant, elongated crater that stretched across almost the whole of the glacier. A twisted, broken scar that was made all the more eye-catching by the thick, black crystals poking forth out of its edges and the brilliant blue of the disturbed ice, both muted only by falling snow.

“Well,” Sky said as he lowered the glasses. Even without them, the black outlines of the crystals were clearly visible against the snowfall. “I think that’s our sign. Captain! We’re here! And so was Sombra!”

Sabra lifted his binoculars once more, pressing himself up against the control housing as Steel pushed into the room. It was hard, at the range they were at, to make out size or any sort of clear detail from the crater in the glacier, but he didn’t need it. Just a splash of familiar color. Or better yet, a lack of one.

“Sun above,” Steel breathed as he pressed up against Sabra, filling the small cockpit. From the corner of his eyes, he saw the captain lift his own binoculars. “That’s an incredible amount of ice to be tossed around like that.”

“It was a crevasse when I left, boss,” Sky said. “Open.”

“This isn’t open,” Steel said, and Sabra gave his words a small nod of affirmation. “It’s more like a collapse. Sombra went down in it?”

“And Nova and Hunter were going to follow him.”

“Then I hope they’re not still down there,” Steel said, a faint chill floating in the wake of his words. “If they are, then even if they did survive whatever did … that, there’d be no way for us to know or get them out.”

A flash of brown caught Sabra’s gaze, and he narrowed his focus, only to feel equal parts relief and worry when it turned out to be a small, shrub tree, its bark the color that had caught his attention. It wasn’t Hunter, but at the same time, it wasn’t Hunter.

What happened here? The captain clearly had the same question, though as both of them panned their binoculars across the scene, not much was made clear. The glacier was twisted and broken behind the crystals, so the crevasse Sky had spoken of had to have collapsed, but then if that was all, then the ice would be somewhat uniform.

“Captain,” he said, putting a voice to his thoughts. “The ice near the center.”

“I see it,” Steel said. “There’s a hole.”

“Yes.” And massive chunks of blue ice around it. “Something dug its way out.” It wasn’t hard to see how either, not when there was a titanic black crystal holding the larger pieces back.

“So it’s most likely that Sombra got out, then.” Steel went quiet for a moment, then turned suddenly, the end of his binoculars smacking against Sabra’s. “Move to the other side,” he said quickly. “Check the area on the western side of the glacier.”

“Yes sir.” He moved, crouching to duck under Sky’s hooves as he maneuvered his way over next to her bunk. “Should I be looking for something specific?”

“Yeah. Signs of Sombra and our teammates. If Sombra had to dig his way out, I’m hoping that means it’s because somepony buried him. Look for crystals, broken trees, anything that might indicate—”

“I found them,” Sabra said. “Black crystals. Here and there.”

“What direction are they going?”

“Are we facing east right now?”

“Almost perfectly,” Sky said.

“Northwest.”

Steel sucked in a breath, the hiss filling the cockpit and almost harmonizing with the rumble of the airship’s engines. “Well, it’s not directly toward the city. There’s some hope then. Does it look like a trail we can follow?”

Sabra panned his glasses over the mountainside. As they moved closer, the view was becoming clearer. There was a smattering of black crystals scattered along the ground heading away from the glacier, into a small, thick forest of trees … and then his eyes widened.

“There’s an opening in the forest.” Something had brought down a tree, creating a gap in the woods that exposed the ground. Snowfall had covered it back up, but not enough that he couldn’t see the signs of an explosion. Another point in the favor of their training. “Something blew up.”

“Thank the Creator,” Steel said, his words heavy with relief. “That’s got to be them. Who else would blow up a tree?”

“Nova?”

Sabra lowered his binoculars and glanced back at Dawn’s words. Even she was in the cockpit now. Or at least halfway in, about as far as she could manage given the limited space.

“Can you think of anypony else that would blow up a tree? Or that could manage it with the gear they had?” Steel asked. “Even if it isn’t our teammates, if there isn’t another trail to follow, this is our best bet.”

Sabra lifted the glasses again, peering further up the mountain and closer to the peak. The snow there looked … different. Strange. How he couldn’t say, but there was something about the way it had settled that didn’t seem right.

Or maybe I’ve just not seen enough snow. He moved his gaze down, but nothing leapt out at him. It was just a mountainside.

“I’m not seeing any hints of activity on the far side of the glacer,” Steel said. “Dawn?”

“Nothing notable,” came the medic’s answer. “Just more mountain. One moment.” She backed out of the cockpit, and a moment later her voice echoed from the main cabin. “But I can see the crystals Sabra has spotted, as well as the blank spot on the woods. I believe I see another one beside that. Heading north up the mountain.”

“Turn us north, Bolt.” The deck tilted underhoof as The Hummingbird went into a tight turn. “And everypony keep their eyes out for any signs of Sombra’s trail or our own team. For now, let’s pick up a little speed, at least until we’re not sure where we’re going next.”

The hum of The Hummingbird’s engines increased in pitch, and they surged forward through the air, their path a gradual arc that lined up with the forest on the glacier’s edge. Steel spotted signs of a second explosion after several minutes, and after a few minutes more they came across an array of crystals embedded in the ground.

“Scorch marks,” Steel said. “If he’s not chasing our team, then there’s someone else out here.” Sabra nodded. The more Sombra’s trail moved north, the more likely it seemed that he was pursuing someone. But the largest surprise came when they neared the strange section of snow that he’d looked at earlier.

“Avalanche,” Steel said as he looked down at it. “No doubt about it.”

Sabra’s eyes widened. He’d heard avalanches over the winter in the Whitetail Mountains, been warned about them several times. One had even made his small shack shake in the dead of night, filling him with a gripping worry that his quest was about to be buried … but his location had been safe, as had been promised. But the idea of thousands of tons of snow roaring down the mountainside like mud could beneath a steep rain, but just at a sound? It was unnerving.

“The conditions out here might have been ripe for one, what with the storm over the last few days,” Steel said. “So the explosions we saw the aftermath of earlier might have caused it.”

“Or?” Sky asked.

“Or Hunter and Nova set it off themselves to bury Sombra,” Steel replied. “Risky, but given our team’s history already for making grand gestures, entirely believable.” He paused. “Bolt, bring us closer to that bit of rock higher up the peak. The one poking out of the snow like a shelf. It looks like it’d be a safe place to ride out an avalanche.”

“You’ve had experience with that, captain?” Sabra asked, sliding his view over to the rock in question. Or at least what he assumed was the rock in question. It did look stable.

“Let’s just say if Hunter and Nova did drop an avalanche, it’d be a move more than a few griffon generals would nod in approval of,” came Steel’s reply. “Always use the terrain to your advantage. Which means both looking at how it can be a weapon, and how it can shield you from others. There was a clan leader about, oh, four, five-hundred years ago who wiped out his opponents during a regency war by damming up the river they used to water their crops.”

“Dried them up?” Sky asked.

“No,” Steel said as the rocky outcropping came closer. “That’s what the other clan thought. They simply spent a lot of extra wingpower bringing in rainclouds from elsewhere. Then when the general ordered the dam torn down … it flooded and destroyed his rival’s best farmland. Sure, the following years were good, but it forced the clan to surrender because their immediate funds dried up.”

“Wow.” He could hear the awe in Sky Bolt’s voice. “That’s impressive.”

“An army can’t fight on an empty stomach. Not for long anyway. And while they can fight with an empty purse, it breeds discontent. If you can’t pay them immediately, then you need some other cause to pull them in. Freedom, gains, justice … But you still need to pay for their gear. Running an army is tough work. Think about how much work we put into this team, then scale it up.”

“You’re right. That’s a lot of work,” Sky replied.

“It is,” Steel said as the rocky outcropping drew close. “Which is why in a few months, once the schedule has settled, you’re all going to start learning about it. Large armies, how they function and how they move. Just in case we’re ever called on to take one down. Not that there’s much chance of that—anyone that moved on Equestria would be asking for a solar flare to wipe out their weather, as well as all of our allies to move on them, which would include the entire Griffon Empire. But … things change, and we may not be able to count on that tomorrow, so we’ll be ready. Anyway, anypony see anything on that rock?”

Sabra snapped his attention back, centering his binoculars on the craggy stone and taking a long, careful look at it. Thankfully, it was devoid of much snow, but at the same time, it wasn’t possessing much else. It was simply a rocky bit of stone, jutting out of the snow around it and into the air.

“Sabra.” Steel’s voice was clear and sharp. “To the left of the stone, in the snow. What do you see?”

He tugged his view to the side, focusing through the shadows and falling snow. “Hoofprints?” The depressions certainly looked like it, moving in a haggard line away from the stone.

“Could be,” Steel said. “Bring us closer.” The Hummingbird hummed as Bolt complied with Steel’s orders.

“Yeah, those could definitely be hoofprints,” Steel said a moment later. “Probably quadruped. Moving pretty fast from the shape.”

Sabra nodded, and rolled his gaze back to the rock, checking for any other signs. Possible hoofprints are a good sign, he thought. But we need somethi—What is that? He frowned, pressing forward against the cockpit glass. “Sky?”

“Yeah?”

“How much closer can you bring us?”

“If the wind isn’t too bad, probably forty feet is as close as I’d want to get.”

He nodded. “Closer.”

“See something?” Captain Song hadn’t countermanded his request. That was a good sign.

“Perhaps.” It was very faint. He was lucky he’d see it at all, but … The image through the glasses blurred, and he adjusted the focus, eyes narrowing as the small splash of color clarified.

“Captain Song, I believe we are following our team.” The words felt good to say aloud, a knot of tension somewhere in the back of his mind relaxing.

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because few others would be carrying, and thereby discard, one of the ration bars Sergeant Dawn procured for our stores.” Through the binoculars, he could see a chunk of the brown bar lying against the stone. “And fewer still would have dropped one so recently so that the snow would not have covered it.”

“Good eyes, Sabra,” Steel said, his voice sounding over Sky’s sudden “Yes!” “I see it too. All right! Some good news!”

“You found them?” Dawn asked, poking her head into the cockpit once more.

“We did,” Steel answered. “Tracks, and a quarter of one of your ration bars. Congratulations, Sergeant, they’re for more than just eating.”

Sabra, meanwhile, had moved his attention back to the tracks. “It looks as though they circled the mountain.”

“Leading him around,” Steel replied with a nod. “All right. Then we do the same. Sky Bolt! Can you see those tracks well enough to follow them for a few minutes?”

“As long as one of you gives me back a pair of binoculars.”

“Do it. Take mine,” Steel said, holding them out. “If you lose track, don’t neglect to pick up some altitude and get a better vantage point. Those two couldn’t have made those tracks more than an hour or two ago. Circle the mountain after them. The rest of us, let’s make final checks and get ready to assist them in whatever they need. Once we’re geared up, and our responsibilities meted out, we’ll all help keep an eye out for either Sombra or our two team members. So final check, prep, now!”

At Steel’s shouted final command, Sabra nodded and moved for the door, once again ducking under Sky’s seat and giving her a quick smile behind his helmet as she pulled her hind legs out of the way. We find Hunter and Nova, then we hold out for just another half a day.

* * *

Sombra spotted them first. The only warning they had was Sky’s cry of alarm from the cockpit and a sudden, jarring tilt of the floor as The Hummingbird rolled to the side. Sabra rolled with it, throwing his weight back and twisting to look up out of the starboard windows. Something black and inky twisted by them, like an eel made of smoke.

The Hummingbird didn’t even level before a crushing weight pressed down on him from above, almost throwing him off balance. From the curse he heard Dawn utter, followed by a thud, not everypony had been so lucky. She slid down the tilted deck toward him, bouncing off of the side of the cabin’s central table. A small avalanche of debris preceded her, writing utensils and papers that had been resting on the table before the sudden tilt had given them enough speed to hop over the lip. The only reason there wasn’t more sliding with it was that most of their equipment and gear was held securely in cargo-webbing.

The Hummingbird abruptly tilted the other way, so fast that his hooves left the deck. He was airborne for only a moment, his body twisting to bring his forehooves down on the lip of the table in a sudden stop, and he balanced there as Dawn let out another curse, rolling back the way she had come. Only to stop when Steel’s hoof shot out of the hatchway to the main hall, catching one leg and arresting her tumble.

A shadow flitted across the portside windows, and the airship tilted once more. Sabra reared back as the table dropped out from beneath him, switching to his rear hooves and balancing atop the lip once more as The hummingbird stopped tilting.

Then the pressure pushing against him from above eased, their rapid ascent slowing, and the deck leveled out. He stepped back, off the table as the deck began to level, glancing over at Dawn as Steel pulled her up.

“Sorry!” Sky called from the cockpit. “I had to avoid those … that … Well, whatever that smoke was! On a related note, I think we found Sombra!”

Sabra moved to the window, pushing his head up against the glass and bending his neck to look down as directly as he could. Beneath them was a small forest of snow-covered pines, giving the ground a mottled look like it was covered in old carpet. A cloud of what looked like black smoke was oozing between them, and as he watched, vanished under the cover provided by the foliage, only appearing here and there when he guessed its movements.

“Situation?” Steel asked, his voice echoing through the ship.

“Nothing’s hit that I can see from here,” Sky said. “Or that I can feel in the controls. Everything feels responsive. Still, that jerk tried to hit my ship!” There was a fiery edge of anger in her voice, enough for him to easily picture the set of her jaw though he wasn’t in the cockpit. Her eyes would be narrow, her teeth bared. “He tried to hit it! And I can’t even hit him back!”

“Where is he now?” Steel said, apparently choosing to ignore Sky’s indignation. “Anypony have eyes.”

“Below us!” Sabra called. “Moving through the trees.”

“Heading?”

“I don’t know,” he said with a small shake of his head. He didn’t dare move his eyes from the forest. If he did, it was likely he’d never be able to locate the faint wisps of smoke among the trees again. “What is our heading?”

“Northwest!” Sky called.

“Then he is heading west! Through the trees below us!”

“I see him,” Steel said. “Fast, isn’t he? Can we get ahead of him?”

“Not if we want to keep him in view,” Sky said. “We’ll have to circle to the side, and even then we might lose him.”

“Do it,” Steel ordered. “Just do your best. We need to get ahead of him and think of a way to slow him down. Any ideas?”

“A stiff wind?” Dawn suggested. “He looks like smoke. How are we—”

A bright flash from below cut off her words, and The Hummingbird jerked slightly in response. But the flash hadn’t been directed at them. Instead, it rolled out of the forest, right in Sombra’s path, and the cloud seemed to recoil from it.

But only for a moment. Then it surged forward, sweeping over everything in its path. As Sabra watched, jaw dropping, the trees around the shade turned black and jagged.

Crystal, he realized as the cloud surged forward. It’s turning everything into crystal.

“Captain!” Dawn’s voice echoed through the cabin. “I see Hunter! Off our three o'clock in the air.”

Part of him wanted to look, but the better part of him forced himself to stay at the window, watching as more bolts of light lashed out from the forest in sequence, striking at the black cloud. Whether or not they did any damage, Sabra couldn’t tell, but they spurned the cloud forward through the trees, striking out at the source of each attack.

“Sombra appears to be engaging Nova, captain,” he called as the cloud caught up to another beam source and swept over it.

“Appears,” Steel answered. “The odds of Nova actually being there are slim to none. Bolt, change our course to intercept the lieutenant. We need information. We can catch up to Sombra when Nova’s done bothering him.”

“Yes sir.” The deck underhoof tilted, the motion much smoother than it had been earlier, and the forest vanished from Sabra’s sight, along with the ground, as the airship went into a tight turn.

“Specialist Sabra? Greet our lieutenant at the door, would you?”

“Sir.” He pulled himself away from the window, flipping back and pivoting on one hoof as he moved for the door, only to catch a disapproving stare from Dawn.

“Careful of your side, Sabra,” she said, her tone cautioning. “Don’t overexert it.”

“Yes sir.” He gave her a quick nod as he ducked out of the room, moving quickly down the hall toward the rear hatch. The rumble of The Hummingbird’s rotors was more pronounced as he moved back, less a sound and more a sensation that resonated through his hooves.

Seeing Hunter through the rear hatch sent a wave of relief through him. Even though they’d known that the pair were still alive, it was good to see one of them with his own eyes. He clipped a safety rope into place and then swung the hatch open, ignoring the stiff winds as he waved at the approaching pegasus.

“Lieutenant Hunter!” He wasn’t sure that the pegasus could hear him, but he called out anyway. Hunter returned his wave, wings picking up speed as he flew toward the open door. In seconds he was there, tucking his wings tight with a final snap to burst through the door in a rush, and then spreading them to bleed off the excess speed.

“Steel?” he asked, glancing at Sabra, eyes focused.

“Cockpit.”

“Thanks.” With a nod Hunter was gone, galloping around the intersection and up toward the front of the airship. Sabra pulled the hatch shut and disconnected the safety line before following, pushing his side slightly in a quick jog. Wounded or not, if Hunter was in that much of a hurry …

“—rapped to see you,” Hunter was saying as Sabra reached the main cabin. The lieutenant looked weary but determined, his wings sagging even as he spoke to Steel and Dawn. “We’ve been trying to lead him astray, but he gets more and more determined with every attempt. We’ve had to take some risky chances to keep his attention on us, and well … we’ve had some close calls as a result.”

He lifted his wing, and Dawn let out a gasp. Beneath it across the plating on his side was a small line of black crystals, jutting out of his armor. “One of his tendrils,” Hunter said, lowering the wing once more. “I’ve seen what happens when it hits living tissue. It’s … disturbing.”

“Is it a conversion?” Dawn asked quickly. When Hunter gave her a blank look, she extrapolated. “As in, does it convert the material around it to create the crystals? Or are they spawned by some other process?”

“The second one,” Hunter said, lifting his wing once more. “At least, they seem to cover things, rather than turn them into crystal. This Sombra really has a thing for crystals, by the way.”

“Probably his special talent in some way.” Dawn bent down slightly, eyeing the crystals and lighting her horn.

“Don’t,” Hunter said. “Nova already tried. These things suck up magic like a Celestia does cake. We haven’t been able to break them off either, short of damaging the underlying material. We tried it with a tree,” he added quickly. “Took the outer layer of bark right off. Or wood, where it had punctured the bark.”

“Anyway, as I was saying, we’ve been running ourselves ragged all over the mountain.” Hunter shook his head, sinking back on his haunches. “You saw the avalanche? That was us. And tree traps, and snares, and just about every other trick we could think up.”

“Did any of them work?”

“Most of the magic ones did,” Hunter said with a shrug. “The physical ones …” He waved his wings, and Sabra noticed another small line of crystals along his left flank plating. “Half the time we can’t even tell. We can’t even tell some of the time with the magic ones. Ever since he got his body—”

“Hold up,” Steel said. “Body? He’s corporeal?”

“No,” Hunter said with a shake of his head. “He … absorbed it, I guess that’s the best term for it. It was under the glacier head, in what might have been a shrine of some kind way back when. He found it, sucked it up, and went from running from us to doing the chasing. And he’s been getting stronger ever since. He uh …” He paused, glancing toward the cockpit. “Sky Bolt filled you all in, right?”

“She did,” Steel said with a nod.

“Good. Well, he’s basically still that, just … worse. More dangerous. He’s always trying to mess with our heads, but he makes it come and go, just to wear on us. And yes,” he said as Dawn moved to speak. “He did get inside my head once. Nova ripped it out, but …” He closed his eyes and shuddered. “This thing is a monster. A starkers monster. We’re nothing to him but resources to be used for more resources.”

He shook his head, another shiver rolling down his frame, and then looked at the captain. “Magic seems the best way to counter him, but as fast as he’s growing in power, he’s moving toward ignoring us altogether. Most of our harassment has been Nova hitting him with beam traps—since that’s his special talent, it’s easier on him, but he’s still exhausted. I am too. He’s back that way, just in case you were wondering,” he said, waving a hoof in the direction he’d flown in from. “We were setting some more traps when we spotted you, but didn’t want to give up our position.”

“Understood,” Steel said, half turning his head toward the cockpit. “Bolt? Swing around to starboard and take us east, toward where Hunter was. We’re picking up Nova.” He brought his focus back. “Any other ideas or advice, lieutenant?”

Hunter shook his head. “Keep your helmets on—”

“Already issued the order, unless Dawn countermands it to check your head.”

“—and keep harassing him. Magic seems to be our best bet, but loud sounds and explosions seem to work. Might be able to make something with what’s on board.”

“Hey boss?” Sky’s voice echoed from the cockpit. “We’re moving toward Nova but … I think that thing is following us.”

“Feathers.” Hunter had gone very still. “He must have guessed what we’re doing. We need to get there fast. If he catches Nova on the ground …”

“I know.” Steel turned. “Full speed, Bolt! Let’s see this thing really move.” There was a slight delay, and then the roar of the propellers increased to full pitch, the deck beneath them vibrating. Steel turned back to Hunter. “Can we slow him down?”

Hunter let out an audible breath and sank back. “Dawn could fire a spell at him. Nova might have a couple of traps set up already. Do we have anything aboard that we could jury-rig into a big boom?”

“Not fast enough!” Sky answered from the cockpit. “You’d need me to do it, and I’m flying this thing. And will be if we want a fast pickup. Plus, no time.”

“Right.” Steel turned his visor toward Dawn. “If you can think of anything, do it. In the meantime, Sabra?” He snapped to attention as Steel’s eyes fell on him. “Get to the door. We’ll have to pick Nova up fast, and without losing much altitude. I want you running the hoist. I’ll drop and grab Nova. Sky, ETA?”

“A minute? Maybe less?”

“Go!”

They broke, and Sabra once again found himself galloping down the hall, Dawn’s disapproving eyes upon him. Steel was harnessed in seconds, ready to drop as Dawn and Sabra clipped their safety lines into place. A sudden lightness came over Sabra as he pushed the hatch open, The Hummingbird descending at a rapid clip. Wind poured through the open hatch, icy wind that made the tips of his ears sting.

Steel leaned out of the open doorway, hanging from his harness. “There’s Nova!” he shouted, his voice all but swept away in the roar from The Hummingbird’s propellers and the howling wind. “And Sombra. Dawn, cover me!” He jumped out of the door, the arm that held his rope snapping out and humming as rope dropped through it. Sabra moved out into the doorway after him, shoulder to shoulder with Dawn as she prepared to offer support—thought what it would be, he wasn’t sure.

The captain was dropping fast, the winch—arm—he couldn’t recall the proper name for it at the moment—hissing as it spun, and Sabra pressed the lever at its side, not locking it but applying a gentle brake so that the captain didn’t slam into the ground. The area they were passing over was mostly craggy, rock covered snow mixed with a few trees, which meant that he couldn’t let the captain drop too far, or one of the lines could catch against something. Bringing the captain’s descent to an abrupt, bone-shattering end.

Granted, it was almost hard to worry about that with the liquidous shadow spilling over the ground behind them. It was like watching a fluid move, but one that was aware and hunting, and it darted forward with a sinuous grace, flowing from rock to rock behind them. Then, as Sabra watched, a black crystal shot out of the ground, the shadow sliding into it. Moments later, an inky black tendril of smoke erupted out of it, lashing out not at Steel, but at the rope holding him in the air.

“Gotcha!” Dawn’s horn flared, and a shimmering, orange shield appeared in the air, connected to her horn by a thin, bright line of the same color. The tendril slammed into it and she let out a grunt, but the shield didn’t disappear, and the tendril fell back as the airship moved on. They’d scarcely left it behind when Sombra slid out from beneath the crystal he had grown, moving along in their wake like a trailing shadow.

There was a faint hint of a shout from Steel, but even with his talent, Sabra couldn’t make it out. The roar of the wind and the propellers combined was far too much to hear words. Even so, he could see that the captain was gesturing at something ahead of them, and he spotted a familiar purple figure running at full speed ahead of them, snow billowing around them. And he’s running in the same direction we are, Sabra noted. Good. He remembered. Matching speeds.

The terrain around Steel was clear now. Sabra let back on the brake, dropping the captain even lower toward the ground, keeping an eye on the captain’s shadow to try and gauge the distance. There was a small flash as the ground rope hit the snow, electrical energy that had built up in the atmosphere grounding out, and he locked the line in place, readying the system that would start pulling them back up.

Steel was almost on top of Nova now, and coming up fast. Dawn blocked another tendril that lashed out at the line, but as she did so a small jagged shadow shot across the ground, heading right for Nova and the captain. Sabra let out a shout of warning even though he knew there was no way for them to hear his voice, not over the cacophony of other noises.

Then Nova leaped, spinning in midair, front legs extended and wrapping around Steel’s. At the same time his horn fired, a yellow beam shooting beneath the captain, between their arms, and slamming into the point of the shadow. It recoiled, burning away under Nova’s assault.

Sabra slammed the lever home, and both ponies shot into the air, the rope growling through the arm as the drum at its base spun. The system picked up speed quickly, Captain Song and his cargo halfway to The Hummingbird in seconds.

They were almost at the door, Sabra easing off their tremendous speed, when three tendrils whipped through the air at them. Dawn cast her magic again, her shield blocking one of them, but the second slipped past, heading for the line while the third swept right at the captain and Nova.

A glistening white, clear shield snapped into place around Steel and Nova, the captain’s mod activating and blocking the third tendril. It crashed against it, boiling away like water on a hot stone. The second, however, was about to hit the line when Nova let go of the captain, dropping through the air, out of the captain’s barrier, and cut the tendril in half with a quick burst of his beam spell. The severed half broke apart into clumps of thick smoke.

Sabra looked on in horror as Nova dropped … Only for a bright yellow bubble to appear around the falling unicorn and vanish. A sudden snap and answering flash appeared behind them, and Sabra turned just in time to see Nova reappear facing a slightly different direction and fly back into the wall, sliding down toward the storage rooms past the T with a loud bang.

Then Captain Song’s hoof was in his, and Sabra heaved, pulling him back inside as Dawn disconnected her safety and ran for Nova. “Aboard!” Steel called, his bellow echoing down the hall as Sabra pulled the arm in and closed the hatch. Moments later the downward pressure was back as The Hummingbird shot up into the air—

And then Sabra staggered as something exploded across his mind, hate and rage and regret and pain and loss and panic and madness—

And then it was gone, leaving him gasping for breath as The Hummingbird continued its rise.

“Helmet check!” Sabra pushed himself up, turning as Dawn pulled her helmet off, forgetting Nova for a moment as she scanned herself with her magic. Satisfied, she replaced her helmet and turned to each of them in turn, scanning them one by one and pronouncing them clear.

“We were lucky,” she said as soon as she’d returned from the main cabin and cockpit. Nova had sat up, one hoof rubbing at the side of his helmet. Like Hunter, his armor bore a few small streaks of black crystal growths. “There was no infective magic in that last attack.”

“Good,” Nova said, grunting slightly. “I hurt enough as it is.”

“Specialist Beam,” Steel said, moving until he was standing over Nova and glaring down at him. “That teleport was one of the most risky, fool-hardy moves I’ve ever seen.” Then his gaze softened. “That said, it worked, and it was one of the craziest stunts I’d ever seen as well. And we probably both would have gone down if you hadn’t tried it.” Another pause. “If it hadn’t have worked, you’d probably have been lost to us, Nova.”

Nova merely nodded. “I know. But I couldn’t think of anything else.”

“So you threw yourself in the line of fire, taking a chance on death, so that maybe only one of us would die rather than both.” Steel lifted a hoof as if to clap him on the shoulder, only to stop as Dawn let out a quiet cough. “Thank you, Nova. You make a fine Guard, and I couldn’t ask for better.”

“I …” Nova appeared to be choking back tears. “Thank you, captain.”

“You’re welcome. Now, if it’s alright with Dawn, can your check of Nova be done in the main cabin? We’ve got a debriefing to do. And then, once that’s over …” He panned his gaze across the four of them.

“Once that’s done, we’re going to discuss how we delay an ancient, powerful shade for the next fifteen or so hours.”

Chapter 31

View Online

“Hang on! Here he comes again!”

Hunter dropped his center of balance as The Hummingbird went into an abrupt turn, tilting sharply to port, engines roaring as Sky Bolt kept them out of reach of whatever attack Sombra was making.

“He’s persistent, isn’t he?” Dawn asked as the turn leveled out.

“After all those hours we spent hounding him?” Nova asked. “I’d say I’m surprised, but to be fair, I think we did annoy him pretty well.” His horn was glowing again, his magic gripped and at the ready in case things went horribly wrong.

They’d already taken a single hit along the back of the ship, a blow that had left a trail of crystals poking out of the framework. Nothing vital had been hit, but Sky Bolt had sworn that it had impacted their handling somewhat. Short of chipping the crystals off, something the storm outside wasn’t exactly conducive to, there was nothing they could do about it.

Hunter winced as a sudden spike of anxiety washed through him, gritting his teeth until it passed. Again with the emotion magic. The wave slowly faded, and he took a quick look around at the rest of the the team.

The team. It felt good to have everypony in the same place again, even if they were a bit battered and worse for wear. Steel’s armor bore enough cracks to look as though it would come apart if it took a hit in just the wrong place. Sabra’s undersuit was bearing stitches, and he’d caught something from Dawn about a blade wound in his side. The medic herself seemed to have faired better at first glance, but there was a clear hole in her chest plate, and he could see a stiffness to her movements from time to time.

Granted, he and Nova weren’t in much better shape. Nova had hit the hallway wall after his teleport stunt hard enough to bruise bone, and his armor had already been marred by Sombra. That damage had left its mark on the airship as well, the sharp, jagged crystals having made tracks across the wall where he’d hit. Thankfully, Sky Bolt had agreed that Sombra had been the cause, not Nova, but her displeasure at seeing her ship harmed was tangible.

Out of all of them, Sky Bolt was the only one who hadn’t ended up as battered as the rest of them, unless you counted the lack of sleep she’d been going through keeping The Hummingbird in the sky.

We’re all stuffed in one way or another, he thought, glancing down at his own armor and noting once more the ridge of crystal growths where his wing would normally rest. Twice already he’d scraped his wing against it, one of those times hard enough to draw blood. And magic? It did nothing against them. Not even Dawn could figure out how they worked. Only that they seemed to absorb magic and use that to resist further magic.

“We’re clear again guys.”

The deck beneath his hooves leveled out, the engines going back to their more subdued purr, and he looked out across the dimmed cabin at everypony else. Battered or not, we’re all together again. And all they had to do was last another … He paused and glanced up at the clock.

Eight hours. Or close to it anyway. Sometime around then, the train transporting the Element Bearers would arrive, and Captain Armor would escort them to the city as quietly and quickly as possible. Won’t be too hard. Not with the weather being as crook as it is. We can hardly see a thing through it.

At least that was likely why Sombra was having a hard time dealing with them as well. You can hunt, but we’ll be quicker. Vanish into the snow, like …

Well, like an ice hare or something. It was hard to think, tired as he felt. But they couldn’t stop. Not now. We’re so close.

With stability back on their side, the team went back to work. The bombs had been, surprisingly, Dawn’s idea. A dangerous mixture of chemicals in glass flasks pilfered from her medical bay, assembled in spare boxes and held together with tape, designed to mix and go off in bright, attention-getting fashion when they hit something hard enough. Or, if the fall from The Hummingbird wasn’t enough to do it, a blast from Nova or Dawn did the trick.

Provided they could find the things through the thick snows. They’d had to resort to flying low, both to find Sombra and make sure they could make the most of their limited supply of makeshift explosives. Which in turn meant that even if Sombra couldn’t see them coming—And who could say how much he could or couldn’t see being a cloud of magic smoke?—he could clearly hear them coming, and after two aborted attempts to drop an explosive on him, they’d adopted their current method: rise to a high altitude, drop as quickly as possible, toss, and power away.

Wonky even in ideal conditions, Hunter thought, passing another small vial to Dawn, who took it in her magic. The explosives they were making weren’t exactly powerful, but they were loud and bright. As near as they could tell, both annoyed Sombra enough that he wasn’t ignoring them.

The real question is how long we can keep it up, he thought, watching as Dawn carefully laid the glass vial down amidst the paper-stuffed box. The worst kind of paper, too, if only because of what would happen when they ran out. There aren’t exactly many alternatives to stock the head with.

A second vial was passed to Dawn by Sabra, who was working on the other side of the table, just so that the two sets of chemicals were kept as far apart as possible. All his tools and ingredients, like Hunter’s had been taped down to prevent any turbulence from causing spills or other disasters. Or at least, lower the chance. There were already a few stained towels on the table from where a sudden jerk had caused a slight spill.

Which was why the third part of the bomb, the one that reacted to the other two, was being assembled by Dawn herself, using magic, in the medical bay while en route to the rear door, and only added to the package before it was dropped. While, as Dawn and Bolt had both pointed out, the bombs were in effect weak compared to what either could create with proper materials and time, the concussion would still be more than enough to shatter eardrums and even perhaps blow out one of the thick cabin windows. In such a confined space, more than enough to stun, or worse, kill somepony.

“All right,” Dawn said, placing the second vial into the box and securing it with a piece of tape. “Only the third bit is required. We can throw it again as soon as we circle back.”

That had been the other part of their strategy. Goad Sombra into chasing them, and once he gave up, turn and circle back to goad him once more.

It could only work so long. Once already he’d ignored their proddings, and they’d been forced to dart ahead and drop several bombs, leading the shade on a several-mile chase, the very same that had seen the back of The Hummingbird marred with crystals.

We just have to delay him long enough. Weather the fear, the weather, the attacks … and then let the Element Bearers take care of him.

With the makeshift bomb ready and the deck tilting slightly to one side underhoof, it was time to move to the next stage of the operation: Finding Sombra. Hunter double-checked his side of the table, making sure his chemicals were secured before turning toward the bunks and the port window. Sky Bolt would maneuver them back around toward their initial course, bring them down enough to make out the ground through the snow and dark, and all of them would start looking for signs of their quarry. Luckily, for one reason or another, wherever Sombra seemed to go he left a trail of black crystals behind, like breadcrumbs in the old foal’s tale. So as long as one of them spotted one, they could catch up to him and pull him off course once more.

And we’ll do that again, and again, and again, Hunter thought as he pressed his visor to the glass, letting out a yawn beneath his helmet as he stared out at the falling snow. Well, not falling, not really. Not with the heavy winds outside. It was more flying sideways and around them. Whether or not that made spotting the ground easier or harder …

He let out another yawn, a familiar lightness settling over him as The Hummingbird began to descend through the snow-filled sky. I could use a nap, he thought, taking a quick glance around at the rest of the team. I feel stuffed. Running from Sombra for almost an entire day, from sun-up to near sun-down, hadn’t been easy.

Just a few more hours, he told himself. Then you can sleep. He narrowed his eyes, peering through the thick swirls of snow and searching for any sign of the ground below them. Sky Bolt was flying mostly off instruments now, had been since the storm hit in full force. Compass readings, airspeed indicators, and every other reading her instruments gave her as she plotted their position, doing her best to make sure she didn’t fly them right into a mountainside.

“Ground on the starboard side!” Sabra called. A moment later Hunter got his own brief glimpse, a tree poking out of the storm for a bare moment before the airship’s lights moved and he lost it.

He called it out anyway, his voice mixing with Dawn’s. “Tree, port side!” A moment later a second appeared, then a third, and a whole mountainside after that, spread out beneath them. Their descent slowed, The Hummingbird leveling out.

“All right,” Steel called from the cockpit, where he was acting as a second set of eyes for Sky Bolt. “You know the drill: let’s find those crystals! Everypony keep your heads sharp. We’ve done this a couple of times, and he’s bound to be getting used to it by now.”

The Hummingbird flew over the snowy mountainside, retracing their path, and it wasn’t long before Steel’s voice echoed from the cockpit once more. “Crystal sighted! Straight ahead!”

Soon enough it came into view for the rest of them, sliding out of the falling snow like a mast on a ship breaking through the fog. Even with the night around it, the black crystal somehow looked darker, like it was sucking the very color of the world out of its surroundings. Sky Bolt put The Hummingbird into a slow, gradual turn west, heading toward the city and—they hoped—Sombra.

Once already he’d broken southward rather than moving in a straight line, forcing them to backtrack and go into a wider search. They’d found him before long, however, and as Hunter had pointed out, Sombra breaking in any direction save west stalled him just as well as if the team had been hounding him. Provided they found him once more. But for them to do that, he’d have to break west, thus giving their team the edge.

Probably helps that he doesn’t know what we’re trying to do, Hunter thought as the crystal monolith slipped out of sight behind them. If he knew we were stalling for time, he’d probably be a lot less inclined to chase us.

A minute passed in silence. Then another. Then Dawn let out a call from his side. “Crystal! Port side!”

Hunter blinked as his eyes caught it, slightly surprised that she’d seen it before him. It was clearly visible to his pegasus eyesight, and he could recall peering at it moments before she’d spoken. He’d just … not noticed.

You’re tired, he thought, bringing a hoof up to rub at the side of his head before recalling that he was wearing his helmet. Wrung out. He gave his head a quick shake instead as The Hummingbird adjusted course to slide over the crystal. In another few minutes, if they didn’t see another one, they’d swing to the side and start looking.

Weird spot for a crystal, he thought as they moved closer. His eyes strayed over to a clump of nearby trees, huddled around one another against the storm. Right out in the open like that when there’s cover nearby. It’s not like—

His eyes caught a glint in the trees, and he let out a shout. “Danger left!”

The world upended as Bolt threw the airship into a hard right turn, sweeping the small clump of trees and the narby crystal out of view … but not before he caught sight of something dark exploding out from the cover of the trees, streaking toward them.

The airship jerked as something hit it, a loud bang echoing through the hull even as the propellers roared to full volume. The impact was enough to throw him from his hooves, and he rolled down the tilted floor until he collided with the central table.

Then he felt it. Like a cold front moving across his mind, a slow and steadily creeping sense of hurt and loss pressed down against him. He shook his head, pushing himself up on his hooves. Don’t let it sink in!

Then he heard it. A voice that seemed to roll over everything before it, a hiss that was at once both in his head and without it.

“Clever dogs, baying at my heels …”

Another loud bang echoed through the cabin, not as loud as the one before it, but still loud, and the ship jerked again. Again the voice echoed through his skull.

“Clever toys … clever tricks …” Another bang echoed from outside as The Hummingbird’s engines roared. “And you use my medium, my crystals to fight me.” Nova let out a shout, light exploding out of his horn and blooming outward like a small sun.

Every time Hunter blinked, he wanted to keep his eyes shut. Except that whenever he did, he could see Swift looking up at him, the light leaving her eyes. Or Thistle.

Push back. Another bang. He pushed himself up, head twisting in all directions but seeing little.

Mod! He pushed back against the feelings breaking against him, pushing them away and reaching for the spell on his back. A pulse burst forth out of him as the mod activated, the world suffusing itself with light.

But not golden light. It was grey and dim, with strands of purple rushing through it. As he watched, several rushed toward Nova only to wither before the bright glow coming from his horn.

“Nova! Whatever you’re doing, keep it up!” The words felt rough as he spoke, like they were tearing at his throat, but he pushed them out anyway. “He doesn’t like it!”

Nova nodded, and the surge of light grew brighter, enough that he could feel it in his head. Then Dawn’s own horn began to glow as she added her magic to Nova’s, and Sombra’s magic began to fall back.

Then with a sudden rush it was gone, pulling away with a suddenness that was shocking. Nova fell to the deck as it leveled out, his horn winking out, panting.

But it wasn’t quite gone yet. There was still something pressing faintly against the back of his mind, like a slick of sweat on his coat after a long workout. Either he’d been infected, or …

He turned. There, glowing beneath the deck, was a dark, shadowed chunk of dark magic, poking toward the inside of the airship like … Like a projectile, he realized. We were hit.

“Nova, Dawn!” he called, pointing with one hoof. “There’s something in the ship. A puncture in the hull, maybe. And it’s got magic!”

A beam of light lanced out from Dawn’s horn, only to shake and fade away as it neared the floor where the mass of magic was. Crystal. Sombra’s crystal.

But if it stayed in The Hummingbird’s side, there was no telling what it could do. Grow outward and drag them down? Infect them all and turn them against one another?

And Bolt had to fly the ship. That left only one pony who could do anything about it. Him.

“Steel!” he shouted. “Slow us down! I’m going out!” He turned and ran for the back, a voice in the back of his head shouting at him. Or maybe it was Steel. It was hard to tell.

This is starkers, the voice was saying. His then. Steel didn’t talk like that. You’ve cracked a fruity. Lost it.

There’s no other alternative! he shouted back as he found the right cabinet and pulled a crowbar out of it. We can’t let that thing stay in the side of the ship. Even if it was inert, simply messing with magic that close to the cabin could be costly. And from what he’d seen, it wasn’t inert.

He shoved the hatch open, ignoring the stinging wind that bit at the crevices in his armor, and dove over the side. Wind tore at him, and he pressed hard with his innate magic, shaping a small bubble around him that he could cut through without too much trouble.

Even so, he let out a yell as a sudden draft threatened to suck him into one of the props, and he tucked his wings close, dropping under one of the rear rotors and powering up around the wash, sticking close to The Hummingbird’s envelope and arcing over the top.

Come on … come on … He could feel his muscles trying to push back against his demands, almost joining forces with the wind. Come on!

He cleared the top of the airship, the broad stretch of its envelope beneath him, and began to curve over the side, aiming for roughly where he’d seen whatever was stuck in their hull. Flying down, at least, was easier.

Until suddenly it became too easy, his magic winking out as a massive piece of shadowed black crystal came into view, stuck partway through the wooden hull of The Hummingbird. He dropped, wind tearing him back as he beat his wings frantically, and then, just as quickly as it had left, his magic came back.

Well, not quite back. More like whatever had been pulling it away from him had suddenly stopped. Well, that’s new, he thought, quickly ascending to get ahead of the propellers. Guess unicorn magic isn’t the only thing those crystals are sucking up anymore.

His mission had just gotten a little more difficult. I’ll have to drop down on it from above, and hope there’s still nothing bad about touching one of these. If there was, well … I should have grabbed one of my ice axes. I could have driven that into the wood to hang from, but …

It was too late now. He flew forward, both forelegs extended to help his magic cut against the wind as much as possible. The wind will push me back too, so I’ll need to drop a little further ahead … Right about … here!

He tucked his wings as close to his body as he dared while still giving himself a little lift, rolling down over the side of the airship. Come on … He shut his eyes for a brief moment, trusting his wings. Gotta time this just right. If he was too far forward or back he’d simply drop past the crystal when his magic stopped. Or worse, slam into it at a wrong angle and then drop. Come on …

He opened his eyes just as his magic cut out, and he snapped one wing in, the force of the wind sending him into a quick spin. Ahead of him the crystal loomed, jutting out of the side of The Hummingbird like a knife. Though hopefully not as sharp.

He slammed into it, his hooves scrambling for grip and slipping off of the slick surface. This crook weather is not helping! He pulled his rear legs up, contorting himself in a sort of C-shape around the side of the crystal, locking his limbs enough that he wasn’t falling.

Okay. Good so far. Now you just need to get up. He swallowed as the jet-black surface of the crystal seemed to pulse. Had it just been a trick of the light, or was it actually reacting to his presence?

“Come on …” He flapped his wings, trying to get a little extra leverage, but only succeeding when a gust of wind caught them from behind, pushing up and mostly atop the crystal. This is a lot harder without magic. He couldn’t even use his wings to hold the crowbar; he had to keep it tucked against his foreleg or risk dropping it.

“Okay,” he said aloud, sitting and balancing atop the crystal. “One step closer.” The crystal was wide enough that he could straddle it with his legs, narrowing near the exposed end, and probably near the end inside the ship too. Which is probably at least half its length if it’s still stuck. He held a hoof against the surface of the crystal, feeling it for a moment. There it is. It was vibrating in time with the rest of the airship. So it’s really stuck.

Quit chinwagging, start moving. He pulled himself forward with his forehooves, sliding over the crystalline surface and trying not to focus too much on it. You’re fine. You’ve not gone starkers yet. Just keep moving forward, keep moving forward, keep—

The crowbar thumped against the darkened hull, and he stopped. Okay. Now just … pull this thing out somehow.

Light. He needed more light. He brought the headlamps on his helmet to life, exposing cracked and splintered wood. From the look of things, the crystal had driven itself in like a wedge, bending and breaking the planks that made up the side and shoving them apart.

Oookay … Well, this shouldn’t be too difficult. Just trying to unwedge the very thing I’m sitting on hundreds of feet above the ground in the middle of a huge snowstorm. Oh, and that thing happens to be some sort of dark magic creation or something like that. Until that though, it doesn’t sound that bad. He brought the crowbar up and then jammed it down hard, the metal claw at the end bouncing off of the crystal without so much as a blemish but biting into the wood. Progress. He pulled the crowbar back and did it again and again until it bit deeply enough that it didn’t want to easily come out. Then he pressed down, pulling the plank back and loosening the ship’s grip on the crystal.

So far, so good, he thought as the wood snapped, breaking free and revealing a small space beyond it. Keep steady, do that a few more times and—

A shimmer of purple light ran down the length of the crystal, and he froze, bracing himself for an incoming wave of fear. But after a few seconds, none came.

Another purple shimmer rolled down the crystal instead, this one glowing slightly. Okay, that probably isn’t good, he thought, slamming the crowbar into another gap and peeling the wood back. Once there was a wide enough hole the crystal would be loose enough he could brace the crowbar against the hull and try to push the thing out, but—

Another pulse. This one a little faster, and with less of a break from the last. Uh-oh. The nervous pit already where his gut was widened. Another pulse, and there was no doubt about it: It was speeding up. And for that to be happening …

I don’t know what it means, he thought, slamming the crowbar down as hard as he could and breaking another chunk of splintered wood free. But anything that’s some sort of countdown can’t be good!

Especially coming from some starkers madpony dark wizard shade thing. Another board broke free, dropping back and letting out a loud clack as it slammed into a propeller. The magically-hardened blades ground it apart.

Come on! The pulses were coming with shorter intervals with each passing moment, and unless he missed his mark, they were growing brighter too. Come on! One board refused to come loose, and he settled for battering it with the crowbar until it broke. Come on!

The crystal lurched beneath him as another bit of wood came free, and he almost fell. The pulses were definitely brighter now, and leaving small, bright jagged purple lines all across the surface of the crystal, giving in a spiderwebbed appearance.

There! A large piece of the hull that had bent inward around the crystal gave way, the wood splintering with a cascade of jagged cracks. The crystal lurched beneath him, dropping several inches as it tilted.

Going to have to be good enough. The pulses were coming almost every second now, the glow from them and the remaining lights almost bright enough to see by. He slammed the tip of the crowbar as deep into the hull as he dared, then braced himself against it and climbed to his hooves atop the slick, crystalline surface.

Now push! He threw himself forward against the crowbar, levering the end in his hooves up and toward the hull, rear hooves scraping across the top of the crystal, which was now keeping most of its glow between pulses, not that there was much time between those either, and they were getting brighter and brighter, and—

The crowbar slipped free, pitching him headfirst into the side of The Hummingbird. For a moment the toll slid from his hooves, and he snapped one wing down, pinning it in place against the side of the crystal and ignoring the shock of pain it sent up his limb.

The pulse had been joined by something new now. A low, deep hum that seemed to resonate in his very bones. He grabbed the crowbar with one hoof and jammed it into the gap in the wood once more.

Come on come on come on come on come on! He threw himself against the crowbar as the hum built, the pulsing now so rapid it didn’t even dim, like a strobe light at a club. Come on! “Come! On!”

He threw himself forward, wings beating … and with a sudden, loud squeak of shifting wood, the crystal broke free, sliding back and then dropping out of the hole it had made in the side of The Hummingbird.

Taking him with it.

No no no no no— He still couldn’t fly, not falling so close to the crystal. Its hum was audible over the howl of the storm now, the glow so bright his visor was trying to tint. He extended his wings, orienting himself so that his rear hooves were facing the crystal, and kicked out as hard as he could, shoving himself away from the glowing, humming shard.

YES! His magic came back to him, and he beat his wings as hard as he could, flipping his fall into an ascent, climbing as quickly as he could toward the lights of the airship, burning every bit of magic he could, green lines pulsing against the black of his undersuit as he pushed himself as hard as he could. He could still hear the hum of the crystal even as it fell through the storm; see it too, a faint glowing purple beacon amid the swirling snow. He was nearing The Hummingbird now, climbing up and over it—

A crack not unlike a thunderbolt roared out of the storm alongside a bright flash, and to his horror he saw dozens of small, ball-sized shards of crystal fly past overhead and below, leaving glowing purple trails in their wake.

He watched, jaw dropping as the glowing trails slowly began to arc out through the storm, slowly fading. It exploded. If I hadn’t pulled it out of the side …

At close range, it would have torn The Hummingbird apart. Blasted it into dozens if not hundreds of pieces.

It still might have. He flipped himself in a quick loop, darting back over the top of the airship and playing the light from his helmet over the side.

We got lucky, he realized after a moment. Really lucky. He could only see one chunk of crystal stuck in the wood, and he kicked it free with his hooves. The port side of The Hummingbird was battered severely, with many divots in the wooden hull and even a jagged spiderweb across the port-side main cabin window, but the damage didn’t appear to be too much worse than superficial. A check of the envelope didn’t show any sudden changes in the snow swirling over it, though he did see a few bright slashes of color where an impact had torn the outer covering but failed to puncture the layers beneath it. They weren’t going to run out of liftgas anytime soon.

He flew back around the airship to the starboard hatch. It was open, an armored figure waiting for him. More than one, actually. He flew in an almost collapsed on the deck, a wave of fatigue hitting him like a runaway carriage.

“Welcome back, lieutenant,” Steel said, looking down at him even as Dawn pulled his helmet off and began scanning his head. “You look like Tartarus.”

“Hey, I look how I feel. Imagine that.” There was a clatter as the crowbar he’d been holding dropped to the deck. He hadn’t even realized he was still holding it. “Maybe I’ll have to keep wearing that helmet.”

“What?” Dawn pulled back, confusion in her eyes. “Of course you will. You’re clear now, but—”

“No, I meant after the mission,” he said. “If I look that bad, I’ll scare all the foals out there.”

“And he’s fine,” Dawn said, rolling her eyes but still giving him a thankful look. “Fortunately enough.”

“No kidding,” Nova said from the T. “We saw that boom. Good call on ripping that thing out.”

“Well,” Hunter said, rising and feeling his legs wobble. “I figured it was bad news, and Bolt has to fly the ship, so …”

“It was reckless,” Steel said, his voice firm. “But then again, that’s supposed to be our job sometimes, and it was the best call to make. Good job, Hunter.” He clapped him on the shoulder, the impact almost sending him reeling. “We’re going to ease off for a while. If you want to catch a nap for a bit. You too, Nova,” he said, his visor turning in the unicorn’s direction.

“A nap sounds great right now, thanks,” Hunter said, looking at Steel. “Did we … take any damage?”

“The window on the port side is spiderwebbed, as is one of the windows in the cockpit,” Steel said as they moved down the hall. “Bolt is furious about it. We took a hit somewhere in the rudders too; she says one of them is twisting like it’s stripped a few gears. Lowers maneuverability a little bit, but she said we can still turn well enough.”

He could see his bunk ahead of him, its cushion almost calling to him. “Right. So we’re okay.”

Steel nodded. “Yeah, Hunter, we’re okay. Thanks to you. Get some rest.” He gave him a push, shoving him into his bunk. When had he started leaning against Steel’s side. “I can’t promise much, but you’ll get some at least.”

“Thanks, boss.” It felt so good to close his eyes for just a moment. “Wake me … when …”

He didn’t finish his sentence before sleep took him.

Chapter 32

View Online

Breathe.

The airship shook around him, shuddering in the wake of another gust of wind. It had been doing that a lot more since they’d suffered damage to one of the rear rudders.

Breathe. Focus.

He tried to push away the sounds all around him. The rumble of The Hummingbird’s propellers. The constant drone of the snowstorm. The constant creak of the main cabin, battered after several encounters with Sombra. A faint, low whistle as wind whipped over the hole in the airship’s side several feet back from the main cabin. It hadn’t penetrated into the spaces they inhabited, but the opening was an avenue for the storm anyway. As well as a drag on their maneuverability.

Breathe. Focus. In and out.

Hoofsteps on the cabin deck, constantly moving. He knew them by weight. Dawn, light and precise even when she was focused elsewhere. Steel, solid and heavy, each hoofstep carrying the weight and purpose of a mountain. Nova, nearly silent unless he wanted you to know he was there, but ever sure. Hunter, relaxed and easygoing, with a sort of cadence that suggested a slight swagger.

Breathe! He tried to pull his focus back from the world, away from the physical, but it wouldn’t come. He let out a sigh, shaking his head as the bunk beneath him shook again.

Nothing. Not a glimmer. There was simply too much going on around him, too much competing for his attention. He let out another sigh and opened his eyes.

The sun had risen again, though the only sign of it was that the storm outside was no longer a seething black mass of cloud and whirling snow illuminated only by the airship’s lights. Instead, a dull, grey light had diffused through it, enough to see by, even if it was dim and seemed to cast the world in a perpetually faded look.

Thankfully, the interior of the cabin was still lit, though not as well as it had been the day before. Several of the magilights had gone out for one reason or another, leaving the cabin only half as lit as it should have been. And there was no time to spare for Sky to find out what had caused them to go out. Not when she needed to be at the helm at all times.

He shook his head, trying to bring his focus back in line. He could feel exhaustion lurking at the edges of his mind, like a pack of wrathlions sneaking through the grass, waiting for him to slip up and pounce. From the look of the rest of the team, he wasn’t the only one feeling a similar presence. Though they’d all taken moments here and there through the night to gather a little sleep, fifteen or twenty minutes here or there couldn’t compete with what they’d asked of themselves over the last few days. All of them were flagging, their motions sometimes sloppy or ill-timed.

Nova and Hunter looked the worst, even though Steel had made sure to give them extra rest shifts during the night to make up for having gone the longest without any breaks. It had definitely helped—Hunter had all but collapsed after saving the ship from Sombra’s crystal explosive—but it was still evident in the way they both moved that they were exhausted beyond measure.

Sabra slipped off of his bunk, armored hooves thumping against the padded deck and drawing Captain Song’s attention. “No luck?”

“Hapana.” Sabra shook his head. “My mind is too …” He waved a hoof as the word he was looking for eluded him. “Broken down? Ya kuharibika? Vunjika?” The word came to him in a quick rush. “Scattered! My mind is too scattered.”

Steel nodded. “I know the feeling. Well, at least you tried. Can’t hurt, right?”

“No,” he said with a small shake of his head. “It cannot. Has there been any sign of Sombra?”

“No,” Steel said, shaking his head slightly. “There hasn’t. We’re all still hoping the old adage holds true.”

What—? His mind caught up with him before he’d even asked the question, and he supplied his own answer. “No news is good news?”

Steel nodded. “We haven’t seen him in hours, and the train that the Bearers are on is due any minute.”

“That does not mean we won’t see him shortly,” Dawn said quickly, pulling her gaze away from the right—Starboard—side window to glance at both of them. “The city itself is in clear view, and our foe has not proven to be foolish so far.”

“That’s right,” Steel said, nodding before turning to look back at Sabra. “Same as before: Pick a side of the ship and start looking. We’re still holding the same patrol pattern as we were before you took your break.”

Sabra nodded and stepped over to the port-side window, moving for one of the larger, still-solid pieces to keep his view as unobstructed as possible.

The first thing his eyes were drawn to was the Crystal Empire, sitting about half-a-mile off on the Crystal Plains. The thick, falling snow obscured it somewhat, but not enough that he couldn’t catch glimpses of the shimmering shield over it, and even an occasional view of the central palace.

For all their work and delays, Sombra had arrived at the city sometime that morning. When, Sabra wasn’t sure, as the hours after midnight had begun to blend together, but despite everything they’d thrown in his path, Sombra’s shadowy form had reached the shield.

Only to burn away upon contact and retreat across the plains, leaving small crystal towers in his wake. Twice more he’d attempted to assault the city, and twice more he’d been turned away. Once by the team and some of the last of Dawn’s makeshift bombs, and once by another impact against the shield, which again had burned away the smoky substance that seemed to make up Sombra’s essence. They’d pursued him that time, but lost track of him in the storm.

So again, they’d gone back to patrolling the southern plains around the city, keeping the railway in view at all time. “Sombra wasn’t stupid when he was alive,” Steel had told them. “And from what we’ve seen, he’s still got some wits about him. He’s bound to notice the railway and attach significance to it. As much as keeping him off of that shield helps Princess Cadence, we can’t cover the whole city and the railway.”

And they had to protect the railway. The Bearers are the last piece of the puzzle. Once they were in the city, their mission was to fall back and observe. But until then … The Bearers needed to make it to the city.

“Glasses?” Hunter asked, and Sabra pulled his gaze away from the window to see Nova passing the pegasus a pair of binoculars. He peered through them for a moment, then glanced back into the cabin. “Boss, do we have a crystal southeast of the city? Say … about four-hundred yards east of our current position?

Steel stepped away from the port window and up to the cabin’s table, rearing up on the edge as he looked down at the map there. “Yeah,” he said after a moment, and Sabra turned his focus back to what he could see through the glass. “We do.”

“Right. False alarm then. Sorry.”

“It’s fine, Hunter. Better safe than sorry.”

Tracking the locations of Sombra’s crystal’s had been Nova’s idea, especially when he’d pointed out that Sombra had, on several occasions, hidden inside them. And had a habit of leaving them everywhere he moved. Whether or not the shade realized it, he’d made a network of them around the city across the Crystal Plains, and Hunter had suggested altering their patrol to keep track of as many of them as possible around the southern end of the city.

His mind burned as he looked out across the plains once more, his view to the north, The Hummingbird’s path currently eastward. I pray the Element Bearers arrive soon, he thought. The longer we wait, the more tired we become. And while Nova and Hunter had both indicated that Sombra had rested in some form as well, they’d yet to see any sign of it since he’d found his old body.

A shiver rolled down Sabra’s spine at the thought. He consumed his own remains. He didn’t understand it, but Nova’s description had been grim, reminding him far too much of the dark shamans of the Plainsland’s past, with their blood elixirs and callous disregard for life.

The shield around the city seemed to flicker, and he narrowed his eyes. Had it flickered, or had it just been another flash of lightning rolling through the storm, or a brief ray of sunlight playing across—?

It flickered again, the shield pulsing and momentarily glowing bright. He opened his mouth to shout in warning, but Captain Song’s bellow beat him to it.

“City attack! North! Now!” The deck pitched underfoot as The Hummingbird went into a sharp turn, the growl of the propellers transforming into a roar. The sweeping snow outside the windows shifted, roiling and churning as the ship powered through the air. By the time they were close enough to get a good look, Sombra was likely to have given up, but all the same, if they could track him even for a short time …

It’d be better if we could do more to drive him off. The princess’s shield was doing well enough at that, holding him back out of the city limits. There was a reason she was able to resist him, though tired as he was, he couldn’t remember what it was. Something about … her magic? And Sombra’s?

Somepony was talking. It was Captain Song. He pulled his focus back to the moment, turning his gaze away from the window for the moment.

“—of the city, furthest from us,” the captain was saying. “The princess’ magic will hold him back, but she’s not all-powerful. But we’re low on options. We can buzz him, hope it drives him off or pulls his focus. Or … one of you can blast him,” he said, his focus shifting between Dawn and Nova. “Magic still seems to work pretty well.”

“Of the two of us, Nova is the stronger caster,” Dawn said. “Even as tired as he is, he would have better luck striking out at Sombra directly.”

“It is my talent,” Nova said, nodding. A faint yawn echoed out of his helmet in the wake of his voice. “Even though yeah, I’m really tired.”

“All of us are,” Steel said. “But I know I can count on each of us to put in every effort. We can’t beat him. But we can make his … unlife, I suppose, as miserable as possible until the Bearers are safe behind that shield.” He paused for a moment and then let out another call. “Bolt? Any change?”

“Still hitting the city shield, boss!” Even Sky’s voice sounded tired, worn despite the warmth in it.

We’re all tired, he thought, pulling his gaze back to the window, staring out at what he could make out of the plains. Here and there he could see the cold, dark metal of the railroad, winding across the windswept plains until it came to a final, empty stop about a quarter-mile from the edge of the city.

Has he figured out what the rails represent? he wondered. Did they have railways in his day? Or something like them? There were ancient wagon-ruts in the Plainslands that dated from thousands of years ago, made to guide wagons and caravans through cities with ease. A modern train was simply a newer adaptation of the same idea. But would he know that? There hadn’t been any ruts like that in the streets of the city, not that he’d seen. But surely Sombra had traveled to places outside of the city and seen the same?

Whether or not he has, Sabra thought, eyeing the snow-covered rails. As Steel said, he has to be suspicious of them. Especially when they lead to the “front” of the city.

He followed the tracks back with his eyes until they wound out of sight in the storm. Just until the Bearers arrive. The barrier around the city was still flashing when he looked back, pulses of light flickering across its surface. From around the unseen side of the city, so their foe truly was to the north.

“Nova, get ready to standby at the rear hatch,” Steel ordered. “The rest of you, we’re on lookout duty. Anything dangerous, out of the ordinary, or most importantly, our target. We call it out, we guide Nova to it so we can hit it.”

“Couldn’t something out of the ordinary be like … a flying pony that’s lost?” Hunter asked. “I’m not sure we’d need to target that one.”

“I’m operating under the assumption that anything we see that’s out of the ordinary right now is because of one thing, and one thing only,” Steel replied as The Hummingbird began to ascend, climbing over the shield around the city but still coming close enough to it Sabra felt he could have jumped out of the side hatch and landed atop it without much injury.

Close, he thought. Sky had explained to him about how keeping close to something that obstructed a view, like a cloud or mountainside, was a good way to sneak up on something. The shield didn’t exactly block any view … but it did obstruct it, and it couldn’t hurt. Unless maybe the wind pushed them into the shield, and it kept them out the same way it seemed to the weather and Sombra.

“Why?” Steel asked. “You expecting to see a mail-pony around here?”

“Don’t tempt fate, boss,” Hunter replied. “Stranger things have happened. We are in the middle of a storm.”

“Point taken.”

He couldn’t quite see through the shield yet enough to make out where it was under attack, not with the light pulsing the way it was. But they were close to the peak. Close to coming over the top of the dome and—

The pulses stopped, the shield going clear just seconds before they crested over it.

“Feathers,” Hunter said, his voice echoing across the cabin. “That’s not good. Did he get through?”

“The shield is still there,” Dawn answered. “He couldn’t have gotten through. He just stopped.”

“Right before we could get a good look at him,” Steel said, and Sabra could hear him moving into the cockpit. A second later there was a sigh. “And … he’s vanished.”

“Magic?” Dawn asked.

“No idea. Do we have a crystal on the north side of the city? Actually, three of them, in a staggered line heading about … say five degrees off true north, out into the plains?”

“We have one,” Dawn said. “Not three.”

Another sigh echoed from the cockpit, followed again by Steel’s voice. “Not your fault, Bolt. He’s wary of us. At least that’s a good sign. Bring us down on top of that crystal by the city’s edge anyway and let’s take a look. Maybe he’s nearby and we’ll get a shot at him. Then we’ll circle the city back down toward the railway.”

“Everypony else,” he said, stepping back into the main cabin. “Keep alert. You see anything, speak up.”

The order was clear, and they each went back to their positions by the windows, peering out and looking for any sign of Sombra.

The city looks … different from up here, Sabra thought as his eyes slid across the crystal buildings. Peaceful. It looked … empty too, like a model that’s owner hadn’t gotten around to adding the ponies yet.

They must all still be inside, he thought, his eyes catching a flash of gold. Two Royal Guard, moving down a street with a wagon of what was probably food or some other supplies. It would be wonderful to see the city alive and full of warmth once more. As it was, even for its beauty and without the banners of Sombra’s rule everywhere it still appeared cold. Lifeless.

The Hummingbird descended through the air above the surface of the shield, the buildings beneath them growing smaller and more widely spread as the edge of the city neared. He could see the location where Sombra had tried to batter his way through, now, a dark crystal monolith pushing out of the ground just outside the shield. There was no sign of the shade himself though. No sign of shadows moving across the snow, or boiling, twisting dark smoke.

Still, even if he was gone, the captain was right. It was good to know that Sombra had fled at their approach. Even if it was only out of wariness or a desire to avoid them.

A faint shiver crawled down his spine, prickling its way between his shoulders and sending faint tingles all the way down to the tip of his tail. If he wants to avoid us until our mission is complete, I do not believe I would mind that. There was always that cloying, persistent sense of fear whenever they came close to him, eating through them like some sort of acid eating away at stone …

He shook his head. Focus. The airship had slowed now, keeping a good distance from the ground, but not so far that any of them had any difficulty picking out details. The wind was smoothing over the snow around the edge of the city already, but it was clear that something had disturbed it, whipped it into patterns and whorls that didn’t match the surrounding area.

Green grass just on the other side of the barrier, Sabra thought. And on this side, snow. It was powerful magic, however it worked.

Powerful enough to hold Sombra out, he thought, his eyes coming back to the black crystal standing amid the snow. It seemed to soak up light around it, pulling it in and making it hard to see where the crystal’s edges lay.

Still, there didn’t seem to be any smoke curling out of it, or living shadow sliding around its base. Captain Song apparently thought so too, because The Hummingbird went into a lazy turn, giving them a full view of the surrounding countryside as it curved back toward the south end of the city. For a brief moment Sabra could see all three of the crystals Steel had spoken of, forming a faint line marching to the northeast, and then the first one slipped out of view behind them.

A loud grinding sound rumbled through the cabin, like gravel caught between two boards, and Sabra’s ears folded back. From the cockpit, he heard Sky let out a faint growl, then a curse.

“That rudder again,” she said as the grinding sound stopped. “Wind must have finally torn something loose.”

“Can we still fly?” Steel asked.

“Oh yeah, we can fly. We’re just not going to turn as sharp. We’re basically—” Another rumble echoed from the back of the airship. “—just not going to be using that rudder much. It’ll strip some gears, probably, or snap something. But it’s nothing that’ll ground us.”

“Good. Keep looking everypony.”

Sabra nodded out of habit, turning his focus back to the falling snow around them. Minutes passed, The Hummingbird slowly circling around the eastern edge of the city, but there was no sign of Sombra anywhere.

He’s out there. Somewhere. Watching. Waiting. Biding his time. Another shiver. And who knows what—

A sudden clatter made him jerk, and he turned to see Hunter picking up his binoculars from the floor. “Sorry,” he said as he spotted everypony’s eyes on him. “Tired. They slipped.”

“We’re all tired,” Steel said, stepping out of the cockpit. “And on edge. Just do your best. The Bearers should be here soon. Very soon.”

“Actually, boss?” Sky’s voice echoed out behind him. “I think they’re here.”

Steel jerked upright, his ears standing straight up as he turned. “What?”

“I think I see the Bearers. The train they’re supposed to be on, I mean.”

“Where?” Steel reared and charged into the cockpit, and a second later a whoop echoed through the cabin.

“That’s it!” the captain called. “That’s the train! Good eyes, Sky Bolt, especially through this. Hunter?”

“On it,” Hunter said, leaping over the center table with a snap of his wings and heading down the hallway. “I’ll pop the flare.”

“Should we pick up speed?” Sky called from the cockpit.

“No,” Steel said. “But take us up. Let’s make that flare visible inside the city. As visible as it can be in this snow anyway.” The storm outside, almost as if it were sensing the imminent arrival of the Bearers, seemed to be rising in intensity, the clouds almost looking darker than they had a few minutes earlier.

Or maybe that’s just my imagination, he thought as The Hummingbird began to quickly ascend, climbing into the air and nearing some of the low-lying clouds. A moment later a bright flare shot out over the city, burning bright against the storm. From beneath the shield, there was an answering pulse of light.

“That’s confirmation!” Steel said, nodding. “Get us to the south side of the city. We’ll keep watch over the Bearers while they’re collected, and then we can get clear.”

Strange, Sabra thought as Steel looked around the cabin. I should feel relieved at such a message. But … Something had him feeling … off-balance. He couldn’t put his hoof on it. Is it that this is too easy? Is Sombra planning something? What?

“That storm is getting worse,” Dawn said as Hunter and Nova moved back into the main cabin.

“Building for a big finish.” Hunter moved up to the window and looked out over the storm. “I could feel it when I fired the flare. In the next hour we’re probably going to be blind.”

Blind. Something about the thought made him shift slightly. Blind against … Sombra. Except we won’t be anymore. We’re almost done. He shook his head. I really need some sleep.

“Sky Bolt, keep us high as you can without losing track of the ground. The rest of you keep a lookout for Sombra making a move on the Bearers. We’re taking no chances.”

Another chill rolled down Sabra’s back, and he frowned. Something … Something isn’t right. It was the end of the mission, yes, but there was something else he couldn’t explain, something—

“Bearers?”

Sabra froze as the voice rolled over him, his body locking in place.

“So that is why you harrang me! The Elements of Harmony!”

“Where—?”

He wasn’t sure who had spoken, but their words cut off as smoke exploded out of the heating vents, pouring over him before he could even move. He felt a peculiar crawling sensation, as if the ground had dropped away beneath him …

And then everything went completely black, his senses and even the main cabin fading away as the world vanished.

For a moment, all was nothing. Nothing but a clenching, soul-consuming fear with no direction and no sense.

Then he was falling, his armor gone, nothing but his body dropping through an endless expanse of black, roiling clouds. Beneath him, something glimmered, a shining, rolling reflective surface that was rushing up at him.

The lake.

He landed on his side, hard, though the blow didn’t knock any breath from him. There wasn’t any to have. None of it was physical, tangible.

He was back in his mindscape, the boiling, churning waters of the lake stretching all around him.

Except he wasn’t alone. The empty void above him was home to a churning storm, black clouds that coiled in and around themselves. The horizon was no longer a flat line, a silvery intersection of water and endless sky, but a jagged, edged wall of crystal, surrounding the lake on all sides.

“My my … you are willful one …” The booming words echoed all around him, and he shivered as they seemed to bore deep into his mind. “Possessed of great spirit.” A deep, rolling laugh echoed across the lake. “And from such a lesser species, too …”

He pushed himself up, his limbs trembling and shaking across the water’s boiling surface. It looked more turbulent than ever, churning and writhing around a single, central maelstrom beneath the surface. The same one that had plagued him for days now, worse than ever.

A low, rumbling chuckle echoed across the lake. “I see now. Your mind is open to me. As are the minds of your fellow ponies. I see your fears, zebra. And soon, so will YOU!” The crystals on the horizon seemed to swell with the voice, closing in on the lake. Sabra couldn’t breathe, but he wanted to, to jerk in great breaths as his chest seemed to collapse in on itself. The smoky sky above him twisted and curled.

“Your mind will shatter like glass before me. Break into a million tiny pieces, because you. Have. Failed. Failed to protect these Elements from me. I will break your mind and that of every pony on this craft. I will see you fall from the sky, your mindless shells broken apart upon the earth. And then I will go forth and rip the Bearers apart before they ever make it under that cursed barrier!”

“You are a failure, zebra. Just as you always feared you were. Deep down, as every lesser being does.”

The lake was churning harder now, the water roiling with such ferocity that it was almost impossible to stand upright. The horizon was closer now, jagged crystals closing in even as the clouds above him seemed to thicken.

“You cannot stop me. You cannot save your friends. You are nothing! Weak and impudent, lashing out like a flailing foal who barely grasps the universe around them!”

Each word was like a physical blow, pressing him down, his hooves slipping beneath the surface of the water. He wanted to push back, wanted to stand upright, but why? What was the point?

“You will not stop me, zebra! The crystals were closing in, rolling across the surface of the lake. “You will not keep me from these Bearers!” The water was over his knees now, the clouds bearing down on him taking on a vaguely equine shape. “You are nothing!”

The water pressed against his chest, whipped to a froth that was threatening to drown him. “You have lost! Everything you’ve ever accomplished is meaningless! I see your mind, and you will die a failure, never to return home. Your journey ends here, your question unanswered!”

The water licked against the bottom of his chin, and he closed his eyes.

Wait. He paused, his downward descent halting. What did he just say?

He opened his mouth, lifting a single hoof free of the water, and looked up at the shadowy figure, a sudden warmth spilling through every limb. Then he spoke, a single word echoing out across the lake as he brought his hoof down.

“No.”

The sound exploded out of him like a golden ring, his hoof coming down on the surface of the lake and sending a single ripple that bounded out, sweeping away every mark of turbulence before it, leaving flat, calm water in its wake. The crystals growing up around the edges of the water stopped, frozen.

“What!?”

Sabra shook his head slowly. “You’re wrong.”

“Do not speak to—”

“Your words are lies. Falsehoods. Deception.” He rose, pushing himself up on all four hooves. “I understand now.”

“You understand NOTHING!” The equine figure moved towards the surface of the lake, a towering figure easily several times Sabra’s size, streams of black cloud coiling back from it toward the sky.

“It is you, I believe, who does not understand,” Sabra said, looking up at the figure. “Or perhaps you do, and that is why you try so hard to distract us.”

The figure growled, and two glowing, green eyes burst into being on its head.

“But to do that, you prey on our fears. You make us doubt, because doubt opposes faith. And if we lose faith in ourselves, or in our friends, we become weak. We fall.” He took a step forward, and the shadowy figure did as well. “You make us doubt ourselves until those cracks spread, and we doubt other things as well, Things we know. We begin to fear.”

“Shut up!” The words were almost a growl. “You are nothing! You know nothing!”

“I disagree,” Sabra said, taking another step forward. Then another, working his way toward the center of the lake. Where the maelstrom surged beneath the surface. “I know many things.” The shadowy figure snarled, a red horn protruding forth out of the smoke as it asserted itself.

“But right now, there are a few that matter most,” Sabra said, coming to a stop squarely upon the maelstrom, writhing under the surface. “Such as how you make me and everypony else doubt. You desire our faith to be fear. Because you fear what can come from someone having faith.” The water beneath his hooves began to rumble, the flat surface shaking like a table. “And you worry what will happen if someone with a little faith …” He looked down through the water, eyeing the spinning, churning maelstrom of emotion that had eluded him for weeks, then looked back at Sombra, and smiled.

“You worry what will happen if they take a chance and act on it.”

He dropped into the water, slipping beneath its surface, down into the maelstrom as it swept over and around him, flipping him and spinning him in all directions, dragging him down toward whatever was at its heart …

And he let go.

His hooves touched something solid, and the next thing he knew he was breathing again, water breaking around him as he rose through the surface of the lake on a plinth of grey stone, feeling more alive than he ever had in his life. Water rolled off of his flanks, leaving his coat without so much as a trace of wetness. The water rolled off of the stone too, back into the surface of the lake, flat and calm once more, like a silver mirror.

And there, in front of him on the small stone island, was a raised mount that he recognized at once. There was one just like it in his quarters in the barracks, only not made of stone. A gift. And resting upon it, waiting for him, was a simple, white staff.

With a howl, Sombra’s shadowed form leapt forward, the massive figure dwarfing him and bringing a titanic hoof down to grind him against the stone. He watched it descend, chest swelling … and lifted his hoof.

He felt the impact roll up his limb, but there was no pain. Sombra’s hoof stopped as if it had struck a wall, unmoving.

“You see, Sombra,” Sabra said, smiling up at the figure as it bared its teeth. “You have forgotten your philosophy. You have built yourself on fear. And what opposes fear?”

He moved, his body spinning with a fluid grace, shoving aside Sombra’s hoof and reaching for the staff. An electric surge rushed through him as his hoof touched the staff, and he knew.

With a howl Sombra brought his hooves down again, but he leapt aside, spinning out of the way and bringing the staff around to whip across the shadow’s jaw. The blow rocked the smoky figure back. “You speak lies,” he said, dancing around another blow and bringing the staff up into Sombra’s midsection. “You prey on our doubts, but that is all the power you have. Fear opposes faith, but faith, acted upon, can become knowledge. And knowledge can be a powerful, dangerous thing.” He blocked another blow, effortlessly turning it aside and striking out once more. Sombra howled as he flew back, almost to the edge of the lake.

“And knowledge is what I sought. You were wrong, Sombra.” He danced across the water, his body glowing as his light steps left mirrored ripples on the surface. “I hadn’t failed. At least, not yet. You almost made me believe that I had.” The staff hummed as it swept through the air, leaving behind glowing trails as he brought the tip into Sombra’s sides again and again.

“But that last lie, I knew it was wrong.” A blow to the head. Another to the shoulder. The smoky figure of Sombra was almost backed up to the edge of the lake now. He let out a growl and the crystals surged forward, only for Sabra to shatter them with a blast of his staff.

“And I know now why the princess is able to keep you out, Sombra. Why you can’t penetrate the barrier around the city. I should have known from the very beginning, but I too, had forgotten my philosophy. And then you said I would never find my answer.” Another blow. A howl of pain as he forced the shade back. “But you were wrong. I already have. I did some time ago, even if I didn’t understand it fully until now.”

He lashed out with several rapid blows, driving the shadow up against the crystal barrier at the edge of the lake. It was smaller now, still larger than he was, but far from what it had been mere moments earlier.

He smiled. “And that’s why I remembered. Because I found my answer, Sombra. And I love her. Just as I love my team, and my home.” He was glowing now, light shining out of his body as he balanced on his hind hooves, staff at the ready.

“And a perfect love casts out all fear. That’s why you cannot penetrate the princess’s shield. She opposes you as thoroughly as a flame burns away dry leaves. Philosophy, read, studied, and now understood.” He leaned forward, looking the shade right in its glowing green eyes.

“Now get out of my head.”

He threw his entire body into his staff, striking the shade with all his might, a shockwave rolling out across the lake with the impact, shattering every crystal into nothingness even as the shade shot back into infinity—

And Sabra sat up, jerking back as dark clouds of black smoke peeled away from his body and the bodies of each of his fellow Dusk Guard, coalescing in the center of the cabin with a scream of pain and anger. He could see it streaming out of the other members of the team, but as he watched, the tendrils slowed and began to thicken.

“No.” There was a familiar weight in his hooves and he leapt forward, off of his bunk and through the air as he brought his glowing staff across in another blow, putting all the force he could muster into it. The tendrils of smoke snapped as the cloud shot across the cabin, slamming into the starboard side glass with enough force to split the pane into two large pieces. Even as he jumped to follow, Sombra’s form slipped through the crack with a scream of pain, the black cloud falling through the storm.

Only when it vanished from sight did Sabra turn to see the rest of the group rising to their hooves, shaking their heads as the last of Sombra’s magic burned away, dissapaiting into the air.

“Sabra?” Hunter was the first to speak. “Where did you get that?”

He ignored the question, instead slapping his staff into its place on his back and bolting for the cockpit. Sky was in her seat, as usual, pushing herself up with one hoof and looking around with a concerned look in her eyes. “Sabra?” she asked. “What—?”

He opened his mouth, part of him shouting to say that he knew now. But then he paused.

The time is not right. Not now. Not when she’d just been gripped in who knew what horror.

“I wanted to make sure you were all right,” he said instead. It wasn’t time. Not yet. “Are you?”

“I … I think so.” Her wingtips were trembling, but there was a smile in her eyes. “Thank you.”

“Everyone okay?” Steel’s voice echoed through the cabin. “What just happened?”

“Helmets!” Dawn’s command came right behind the captain’s question. “Now. That was mental magic on a massive scale.”

“Yeah, but what fought it off?” Hunter asked. Sabra turned to look back into the cabin. “And where did Sabra get that?”

He followed Hunter’s pointing hoof just in time to see the white, shimmering staff he’d slung astride his back fade away, and his jaw dropped.

“Well, this is just a guess,” Nova said, rolling his eyes. “But it’s a staff on Sabra’s back that just faded into nothing. So I’m going to say Sabra plus magic, and that it’s tied into the big bad shade getting kicked out of our heads somehow. Sabra?”

He didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Not with what he’d just seen. A staff. In my hooves.

“Sabra?” Steel’s voice shook him from his shock. “Any answers?”

“We had a battle of wills,” he said, turning his eyes back to the captain. “Sombra lost.”

“And the staff?”

“I think … There are old records—very old records—of sages wise enough that they were gifted by the Creator with the power to manifest physical representations of their will in dire need. I …” He looked down at his hooves. “But for me to—”

“You’re the youngest master in what, a thousand years?” Steel shrugged. “I expect if you write your monastery to tell them about it, several of them will make good on some bets. Now …” He looked around the cabin. “Where’s Sombra? And where are the bearers! Move ponies, this isn’t over yet!”

“And helmets!” Dawn called again as they began to move back to their posts. Sabra detached his, taking a brief moment to glance at the clock. How long was I—were we—out? His head tingled as Dawn’s scanning spell went to work.

Probably would have helped to look at a clock before Sombra attacked us, he thought, jamming his helmet back into place and looking out the window. The storm had grown only thicker during the time they had been out, the snow falling fast and furious. So furious that he couldn’t even make out the dome of the city.

Assuming I’m looking in the right direction, he thought as The Hummingbird went into a tight turn.

“We drifted!” Sky called from the cockpit. “We were out for a least a few minutes without autopilot! Not really sure where we are, but I’m making a rough guess and trying to bring us back around to where the Bearers might be!”

“Understood!” Steel called back. “We’ll let you know the moment we see—”

“I see them!” Hunter shouted. “Starboard side! Running for the city! It looks like Captain Armor is with them and … Yeah, they’re being chased by smoke! Sombra’s after them!”

“On it!” The Hummingbird went into another sharp turn, and a moment later Sky let out another shout. “I see ‘em!”

“Can we get there in time?” Steel asked.

“I …” There was a pause. “No … But I think they’re going to make it! They’re almost at the city entrance!”

There wasn’t any point to watching anything else. Sabra turned away from the window as both Steel and Hunter rushed to the cockpit door. Nova and Dawn followed, peering over their backs, and Sabra stepped up beside them. Through the glass and the swirling storm he could just make out seven running figures, pursued by a cloud of black.

Run, Bearers, Sabra thought. You do not wish to be caught by that creature that pursues you. But the cloud was drawing closer, closing the gap. Run!

But they were already moving at a full gallop, and Sombra was almost upon them. They’re not going to make it.

Then one of the figures stopped and spun, sending a pinkish bolt into the cloud and knocking it back. The other six slowed, but then turned and ran.

Captain Armor. He’s holding the line. The Bearers slipped through the shield. But that means …

Sombra’s form descended on the captain, spilling over him and the edges of the shield.

“Bolt!” Nova’s shout rang through the cockpit as the unicorn turned and grabbed hold of the mod in the middle of Dawn’s back. “Hard left!” Then he turned and galloped back down the hall, the yellow glow of his magic removing his own mod and attaching Dawn’s.

Sabra turned and bolted after him. He could only think of one thing Nova could be trying to do. The Hummingbird tilted, propellers roaring and the deck jerking underhoof. Sabra rounded the corner just in time to see Nova, Dawn’s mod in place of his own, shove the hatch open, horn already aglow.

“All right, Smokey. You want to take on some magic?” Nova’s horn blazed, so bright it was almost hard to look at. “Then take this!”

A brilliant pillar of bright yellow light burst through the clouds, slamming down atop the ground where Captain Armor had vanished. Sabra’s visor tinted as the light boiled away Sombra’s form, and even as far away as they were, Sabra could hear the shade’s scream of pain and rage. It was like seeing a beam from a light storm connect.

Then it was over, the pillar vanishing, a sudden dimness falling over the world as the glow around Nova’s horn winked out. Nova himself slumped, his body going limp, and Sabra darted forward, catching him by his armor before he could slide out the open hatch.

Down on the ground, Captain Armor stood in the middle of an open circle amid the clear black. He raised his hoof in what might have been a salute, then turned and dove through the barrier wall even as Sombra surged toward him.

Then the deck tilted underhoof once more, The Hummingbird peeling up and away as it moved away from the city. Sabra hauled Nova’s tired, panting form back into the hallway, propping him against the wall before turning and shutting the hatch.

Their mission was over. The Bearers were in the city.

Now, they would wait.

* * *

The waiting, Sabra decided, was almost worse than participating. They held position a good two miles or more from the city, floating in the air as the storm intensified and then faded, watching as Sombra grew in size and power. More than once he lashed out at them, driving them further away, but in each instance it seemed he was only half-interested, returning quickly to surround the city.

Hours passed. Steel gave orders for everyone to stay in their armor, but approved members of the team resting and cleaning up, or seeing their wounds tended to. The motions almost felt empty, however, as they watched Sombra assault the city again and again, each time with more and more force. His size continued to swell as well, until there wasn’t a single open spot of land around the city that wasn’t surrounded in smoke.

And still they waited, watching. Either for the Bearers to succeed … or for the city and all within it to fall.

No, Sabra thought as he stared at the city. The waiting is definitely worse than actually doing something.

Not that there looked to be much they could do anymore. Nova had fallen asleep almost immediately after casting his massive spell, though he’d avoided burnout this time around. And he was their hardest magical hitter. And the black smoke that made up Sombra had now encircled the city on all sides … What could we do? he thought as he watched the shield shimmer once more. It is as the captain said: we are out of our class.

Then, as he watched, the shield around the city flickered and went out. Cries of dismay sprung up around him as Sombra surged in from all sides, crystal growths bursting out of the streets. Crystal ponies began running in large groups toward the center of the city, driven by the attack. A spear of crystal broke free of the rest, rushing toward the center of the city with incredible speed.

Then there was a flash from the base of the tower, and a moment later the streets began to glow, a soft blue light rushing down them as Sombra’s forward charge came to a complete stop.

“Well,” Dawn said. “I was right. It’s not just for looks.” The glow spread, rising up the central tower, sublimating through the homes, until the entirety of the visible city was simply glowing in warm, soft shades.

Then there was another flash from the base of the tower, and a wave of magic exploded outward, rolling over everything in its path. Crystal shattered and broke apart as the wall slammed into it like a force, the smoke around it seeming to sizzle and then fade away. The spear of crystal that had punched so deeply into the city seemed to resist the longest, but then it too dissolved breaking apart and flying back even as it faded into nothingness. A bright pulse of light shot up the tower, hit the peak, flashed once … and then a shockwave rushed out across the sky, blowing the storm apart in a blast of magical energy.

“Uh … guys?” Nova said moments before the wall of magic slammed into The Hummingbird, passing right through its hull and sweeping over them. The magic prickled, bright light erupting all around them as all the aches and pains of the last day seemed to melt away. Suddenly, Sabra felt good.

No, not good, he thought with a smile. I feel great! He felt energized, alive, like he’d just woken from a long rest to the greatest morning ever, like his heart would burst from his chest. Like he’d felt when he’d thrown Sombra out of his mind.

That, he realized as he looked around the cabin, had not been the only change. What he could see of everyponies’ faces looked different, the hairs shining and refracting like crystal ponies’ did. Even the black crystals along Hunter and Nova’s armor were gone, burned away as if they had never existed.

“Oh great,” Nova said, his voice echoing through the cabin as he spotted his reflection in the window. “This had better not be permanent.”

“You don’t like it?” Dawn asked, her own mane done up in a style that reminded Sabra of the ancient Romanes. Her helmet had been off when the spell hit, apparently. That or … He pulled his own helmet off, feeling his mane as it bounced back to the same new style.

“You ever try sneaking while glowing and sparkly?” Nova asked, trying to adjust his mane with his magic and failing. “It’s not easy.” His horn glowed again, and he let out a faint sigh of relief. “It’s a glamour spell. Gone in a few hours. Good!”

“Guys!” Sabra turned, breath catching in his throat as Sky practically flew out of the cockpit. She’d removed her helmet as well, and the crystalline glamour on her face was …

Hunter elbowed him. “Easy, casanova. Try closing your jaw.” Sky’s eyes met him, and her smile widened.

“Guys!” she said again, waving her hooves. “Forget this. Look at the sky.”

“Whoa.”

“Impressive.”

“Beautiful.”

Sabra’s jaw fell again as he looked out of the windows. The early night sky was rippling with ribbons of rainbow colored energy that danced and flowed like nothing he’d ever seen. Just looking at them brought a sense of peace and wonder, like everything was going to be all right.

“It’s pure emotion magic,” Dawn said, astonishment in her voice. “From the Crystal Empire.” And she was right. He could see the ribbons emanating from the tip of the Crystal Palace, shimmering and winding through the air as if caught in some unseen wind.

“They just keep spreading,” Hunter said, his voice quiet. Sabra could understand the feeling of awe, watching as the magic filled the sky. “They’ll probably see this from Canterlot.”

Captain Song nodded. “That’s what the princesses meant when they said they’d know if the Bearers succeeded. They would have seen this before.” He gestured with one hoof, waving at the shimmering sky. “The Bearers succeeded.”

“Not quite,” Hunter said, pulling his helmet off and giving his mane a toss. Even it had been altered, the hairs long and flowing. “Not just the Bearers.”

“We succeeded.” He looked at Steel, and the captain nodded. “We did it. All of us.”

Steel let out a chuckle. “The lieutenant is right,” he said, his eyes sliding over each of them, pausing, and then moving on, a wide smile on his muzzle. The stoic pony looked … happy. Relieved. “Armor down, everypony. We did it.”

Nova was the first too cheer, and then Sky added her voice in. Sabra added his as well, throwing his hooves up and letting out one of the shouts he’d learned as a cadet. Hunter, Steel, and even Dawn joined in, adding their voices to the mix.

A wing fell over his back as their cheers faded, and he turned his head to see Sky standing next to him, a smile on her muzzle. For a moment they shared a look, a spark … and then the entire team had crashed together, pressed together as they stared out the window at the sky, basking in the soft, shimmering glow of rainbow colors.

“We did good, team,” Steel said, his voice quiet but, Sabra could tell, full of pride.

“Now … Let’s go home.”

Chapter 33

View Online

Steel was already waiting outside the door to Princess Celestia’s study when Hunter arrived, standing at attention with his saddlebags slung over his hindquarters, opposite a pair each of Royal and Night Guard. All five ponies had adopted the same focused stare, as if they were daring the others to blink first.

Then again, maybe they were. They had to do something to pass the time, didn’t they? Glad we never get assigned anything like that. I’d go starkers before the day was over.

He flexed his wings, catching Steel’s attention. “Hey boss.” His right wing still itched where the cuts on it from Sombra’s crystals were healing, and a post-mission physical by Dawn had found a number of other strains and small injuries across his body. The Crystal Heart could make things feel better, but it wasn’t a cure-all. “How’s it going?”

“Lieutenant,” Steel said with a small nod as Hunter sat down next to him, facing the door to the study. “Got everything you need?”

“I think so.” He glanced back at his saddlebags, both sides packed with papers and files. They’d been back less than a week, and Sky Bolt had already submitted a veritable tree’s worth of paper, everything from new armor designs and mod designs to alterations and adjustments she wanted to make to The Hummingbird. All of which would require approval. “It’s quite a stack. You think she ever sleeps?”

“Sergeant Triage assures me that she does. She makes certain of it. I trust her to be sure of that.”

Hunter nodded. “Well … good. Because I wouldn’t believe it looking at the amount of work she does. She’d have already fixed the windows on that airship if she hadn’t decided they could be improved.”

The hallway went quiet once more, Steel still staring straight ahead. Probably thinking about what sort of questions the Princesses are going to ask during the debriefing. There was a fair chance he’d be called upon to answer a few of them, but at the same time … No sense worrying about it. He knew what he’d been through, and written the after-action reports of his time in charge. And there’s no way I’m going to forget any of it anytime soon, especially not in a week …

A faint shiver rolled down his back. Thankfully, his dreams hadn’t been too bad after the first night, though he strongly suspected the Princess of the Night had a hoof in that. And Dawn was always willing to listen to him voice any concerns, though the pony he really wanted to speak with was unfortunately out on a long-range delivery that had her on the other side of the continent or something. And he wanted to speak with her. Badly. And not just about the mission. There were other things he wanted to speak about as well. Things that Sombra’s visions, as horrifying as they were, had forced him to face.

Granted, a good bit of chinwagging would feel pretty good too. He could almost picture it perfectly: The two of them, him and Thistle, drifting on a cloud somewhere outside the city, over the rolling … Well, snow fields at the moment, but it’d be scenic all the same. Just talking and enjoying one another’s company. It’d been a long time since he’d had somepony in his life like that.

Too long. Maybe it was time.

Derpy would be ecstatic. He hadn’t mentioned it to her when he’d gone to Ponyville to see her and Dinky a few days earlier, but he could already imagine how overjoyed she’d be.

I mean, she dropped hints even when I didn’t bring it up, he thought, stretching his wing again as it itched. And then there was that face she made when I told her Thistle was on a trip … which she probably already knew … Dang it, I spoke too quickly, didn’t I?

He almost shrugged. Oh well. It’s not like it’s a secret. And she’s been hoping for a long time. I should see about returning the favor somehow. Maybe offer to sit Dinky or something. No … she can find sitters in Ponyville if she needs to. Still, I should do something for her. Maybe—

Steel’s voice broke the silence despite its low, quiet tone. “Hunter,” he said. “Have you gotten any more out of the sergeant with regards to … the event?”

The event? Oh! Right! He cleared his throat, keeping his own voice low. I wonder what the guards will make of this? Some sort of top-secret information?

In a way, it was. “She’s decided to contact …” He glanced at the other members of the Guard before settling on what to say. “The other half of the equation first.”

“You sure that’s wise?” Steel asked, one eyebrow lifting as he turned to look at him.

“Honestly? Yeah, I do. There’s still a lot we don’t know about …” He paused for a moment. “The situation. Maybe there’s a reason things are the way they are.”

Steel let out a faint hum. “Excellent point. Well, as long as the matter isn’t shoved under a rug. That never ends well.”

“No,” Hunter said, shaking his head. “It doesn’t. I’ll keep you in the loop.”

“Good. Do that.” They both went quiet once more, waiting. A minute passed, the only sounds those that floated in through the hall windows or the occasional messenger or member of the castle staff passing by.

“By the way,” Steel said at last, his eyes still forward. “It’s good to see you in that Stetson of yours again. It’s you.”

“You think you’re glad?” Hunter brought a hoof up, tapping the familiar weight of the hat upon his head. “I felt exposed without it during the mission. And that’s the last time, too. I spoke with Sky Bolt, and she says she’s going to figure out some way to make the sticking charm work. I can wear it over my helmet. It might get a bit torn up, but we’ve got magic for that.”

“It’d cost you a pretty bit,” Steel said, but then let out a short laugh. “And I’m one to talk about that, dropping thousands upon thousands of bits on expensive prototype armor and everything else our team needs.”

“Did you see Bolt’s proposal for griffon and minotaur weaponry?”

“I did, and denied it. The Hummingbird is a transport, not a war vessel.”

“I told her the same thing … though they would have been pretty handy when …” He paused, glancing at the Royal and Night Guard. Did all four of them look more interested than they had a few moments ago? It was hard to tell, but he’d heard an absolute horde of rumors floating around the castle in the last week since the Guard at the Crystal Empire had begun slowly rotating back. Save Captain Armor, who was staying with his wife and apparent new ruler of the place.

“Well, you know,” he finished. One of the Guard seemed to shift slightly, perhaps in disappointment.

“True. But The Hummingbird isn’t really built for it, either. And we’re going to drop more than enough bits on the upgrades she already suggested.”

Again they fell silent, waiting for the doors to open and their meeting with the Princesses to begin. Hunter tapped one hoof, the sound of it striking the marble sounding up and down the hall with just the perfect amount of echo.

He was about to open his mouth again to keep the conversation going when there was a sudden click from the door to Celestia’s study, and a moment later the door opened, several nobles trotting out. Two of them paused, looking at him and Steel, and then one spoke.

“The Princesses said that if you’re the Dusk Guard, you should go in.”

“Excellent,” Steel said with a quick nod. “Thank you.” He waited until the nobles had cleared the doorway, moving down the hall, before heading into the room. Hunter followed, taking one last look at the pack of nobles. A few of them looked familiar, but he wasn’t sure why.

“Captain Steel Song and First Lieutenant Hunter.” Celestia’s voice was warm and matronly. “So good to see both of you.” She smiled at them as she motioned for them to take a seat. She was behind her desk, her multicolored mane shifting slowly in unseen winds as she carefully dropped a number of papers into a small folder.

“We apologize for the delay.” Princess Luna was sitting beside her, a dark blue counterpart to her sister. “Out meeting with the new ERS leadership ran long.” Thought it was technically early in the day for the alicorn, she didn’t appear overly fatigued.

Hunter lifted one eyebrow. “Those were the ERS board?” No wonder I recognized them.

“They were,” Luna said with a small nod. “They are still dealing with the ramifications of the Tam sister’s betrayal.”

“I didn’t see Golden among them,” Hunter noted as he sat down.

“No,” Luna said, shaking her head. “You did not. Mint and Radiant’s betrayal, as well as his own role as an unwitting pawn, shook him deeply, in addition to nearly bankrupting him. He sold his shares equally to recoup some of the losses, and as I understand it, has since been a more reserved practitioner of business. Which while well and good by itself, has brought with it new struggles.”

“New minds,” Princess Celestia said, sliding the folder away without looking and instead drawing a new one. “After what occured with the ERS incident, my sister and I both came to the conclusion that it was perhaps time we broke our majority share and passed the torch, so to speak. But …”

“Now we are beset by these newcomers who have little idea of how to run a railroad,” Luna said, her calm demeanor dropping for a brief moment as she blew a lock of her mane away from her face. “Which means that my sister and I must take the lead for a while longer.”

“Well …” Hunter said, letting the word hang for a moment in the air before he was certain he hadn’t overstepped his bounds. “At least you got the northern line to do its job.”

“We have,” Celestia said with a smile. Luna, meanwhile, echoed her words, but with more hesitation. “Except …”

“Except now they see that as all the more reason we should be in charge for years to come,” Luna finished with a frown. “Thereby cementing us in out positions, rather than gradually transitioning us gently out of them.” She shook her head, her long, starry mane fluttering. “But … We have not gathered here tonight to discuss those matters, relevant as they may have been to your team at one time. And do not be mistaken,” she added, fixing them both with a quick smile. “We do appreciate having the current trials to what might have been. That said, we have other business to discuss this eve. Sister?”

Celestia smiled, her wings fanning slightly. “Captain Song and Lieutenant Hunter. My sister and I have read your reports, and we are most grateful to you for the efforts of you and your team. You all suffered much, according to your reports, but rose above your challenges to accomplish great things. I believe that without your involvement in this matter, things may have turned out quite differently for the Crystal Empire.” Her voice quieted. “Quite differently indeed.”

“Nevertheless,” she continued, her expression brightening. “They did not. Your team performed admirably. Please extend to each and every one of them our undying gratitude and thanks for their efforts in seeing the Crystal Empire returned to us.”

“Thank you, your highnesses,” Steel said, bowing his head slightly. Hunter followed suit. “We served in the capacity of our duty.”

“I disagree,” Princess Luna said, spreading her wings. “From your reports, each and every member of your team surpassed what would normally be considered the duty of the Guard. You faced perils both physical and mental, against a foe that would have sent many fleeing for their lives. To be so humble in the face of such labors almost does your team a disservice. As my sister said, do convey to them our utmost thanks and praise for their roles in the return of the Empire.”

“I will, Princess,” Steel said, bowing his head once more. “Thank you.”

“You are most welcome, Captain Steel Song. And Lieutenant Hunter. Now—” Princess Luna lifted a stack of familiar papers. Their reports. “I and my sister do have a few questions for you. First and foremost, have you submitted yourselves and your team to additional scans since returning from the Crystal Empire? It is not that we do not trust your sergeant, captain, but …” Luna shook her head, a sad pallor falling across her face. “We know firsthoof how insidious Sombra’s magic can be.”

“We have, your highness,” Hunter said, speaking up. “Believe me, once was more than enough. We’ve had the entire team scanned three times by specialists. There are no traces of mental manipulation, though in two instances they found and removed what they believed to be ambient leftovers, broken but inert.”

“Which two?” Celestia asked, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly.

“I was one of them, Princess,” he admitted. “Dawn was the other. Both were found on the first check, and we were submitted to deeper scans. We were both pronounced clean. Additional sweeps since then found nothing.”

Princess Celestia nodded, the motion almost … stern. And of course it would be, Hunter reminded himself. She nearly lost her sister to this. Did lose her, actually. For a thousand or so years. I’d be concerned about us as well.

“I am glad to hear that you, lieutenant, as well as your team, are free of his influence, and that you sought additional examinations,” Celestia said.

“Believe me,” Hunter said. “The last thing I wanted was that crook thing inside my head, messing with my thoughts.”

“While we are on the topic,” Princess Luna said, leaning forward with an indecipherable gleam in her eyes. “Your reports claim that young Sabra manifested a staff and expelled Sombra from all your minds in addition to his own?”

“Those reports are accurate,” Steel said, giving the princess a nod. “Though if you are looking for more than was written in the after-action report …” He shrugged. “In all honesty, highnesses, I was hoping you could shed some light on that.”

The two glanced at one another, a short, silent conversation passing between their eyes before they addressed them once more. “I’m not certain we could explain more than what Sabra already has,” Celestia said. Her tone sounded almost … embarrassed? “Only once have either of us borne witness to such an event. The master who did so told us that it was strength of will combined with her own innate magic and knowledge to make that will a physical force in the physical world. ‘Faith made manifest,’ I believe. A ‘gift from the Creator,’ something that could only be done in times of great need. Though more accounts than hers exist, it was the only one I or my sister have ever seen.”

“Save Zawati,” Princess Luna said. “She was capable of manifesting one as well. Though admittedly, as we understood it that was simply her strength as an immortal. Perhaps it is the same gift, perhaps only similar.”

“Unfortunately,” Celestia said with a nod. “That is all we know. We would, however, request that you ask young Sabra to speak with the Plainsland representatives at their embassy. I imagine that once they have our word that such a thing did happen, they will be very interested in making an account of what happened.”

“Is … that wise?” Steel asked. “Some of what we experienced was, as I understand it, classified.”

“He is right, sister,” Luna said, giving Celestia a quick glance. “There may be parts of his experience that should not be shared at this time. Not yet. Not until we are certain the Crystal Empire is safe and Sombra’s followers too weak to challenge it.”

“A wise thought, sister. Very well. Captain, if you would, please advise young Sabra to refrain from offering too many details. Nothing specific, not where the shade of Sombra was concerned.”

“I will, your highness,” Steel said with a nod of his head.

“Excellent.” Celestia leaned to the side, peering at the reports floating in her sister’s magic. “While we are on the subject of young Sabra, do either of you know if he has found his answer yet?”

Hunter shook his head as Steel replied. “No, you highness. To be fair, I haven’t asked about it recently.”

“Very well. I was merely curious. Now, there is one more thing we need to speak about.”

“Indeed,” Luna said, passing their reports from her own blue magic to the yellow glow of Celestia’s as she leaned forward, her wings spread wide. “The location of this body that Hunter and Nova found. At the head of the glacier.”

Hunter nodded. Figures that would come up. “I’ve had some time to think about it,” he said when neither of the Princesses spoke. “I figure that was where he made his last stand, wasn’t it?” Luna nodded. “And that’s where the bowl that the glacier formed in came from, right?”

“Nearly,” Luna said, leaning back and ruffling her wings. “The bowl was there, but home to a lake that was enchanted with warmth by a gathering of unicorns. Outcasts from Unicropolis who refused to unite with the other three tribes. An ‘order’ of sorts. Sombra was among their number.”

“I think I see where this is going,” Hunter said with a nod. “Seized on old prejudices and made the place his own, didn’t he?”

“He did,” Luna said. “Before making his campaign against the Crystal Empire. When we drove him from the city, he retreated there, to his origins. And it was there that we nearly defeated him.”

“Now that he has returned and been destroyed, however,” Celestia said. “Your report indicates that there was plenty of ambient magic still present from our battle, buried under the ice. And you said you collapsed the entrance?”

“Well, the one we used, yeah,” Hunter said. The Princesses exchanged glances. “On a guess, I’d say that a lot of the ambient heat that was making that creek possible was from something you did, Princess Celestia. Either way, if it’s still there, then the creek likely is as well. The collapse won’t have stopped it for long.”

The Princesses exchanged glances once more. Then Luna spoke. “We will check on this remnant then. We must make certain that all traces of Sombra’s foul influence have been swept away.”

“And with that,” Princess Celestia said. “I have no further questions about your reports. Again, Captain Song, you and your team have performed admirably.” She smiled at them, and then rose.

“Now, with that,” she said. “I believe the next item we must discuss is that of financing for replacement equipment and repairs. However, as I have a previous engagement I am committed to, I would love to stay—”

Luna’s eyes widened, her wings standing straight out in shock. “Sister? You wouldn’t!?”

“I’m sorry, Luna,” Celestia said with a faint twinkle in her eyes that suggested she wasn’t nearly as sorry as she claimed. “I know you despise finances and accounting, but this meeting was planned weeks ago—”

“Fie on thee, sister!” Luna said, rising as well, horror in her eyes. “You cannot leave me here for discourses on bits! I have—”

“A completely empty schedule until night court begins in two hours, Luna,” Celestia said, a smile on her face that looked just a little too smug to Hunter’s eyes. “I’m afraid I really can’t stay, I have the meeting with the Manehatten mayor. I’ll see you in a few hours! Ta-tah!” She trotted around her desk, several files and folders sliding after her wrapped in the glow of her magic, and then ducked out the office door. Only after she was gone did Steel speak.

“Recompense for a prank?” he asked, and Luna nodded glumly.

“I changed her menu several weeks ago,” she replied. “Saw to it that she was served nothing but pickle and garlic-themed dishes in all her meetings that day.” Then Luna smiled. “Naturally, she had to eat to be polite.”

“I get the feeling this is sort of a long-standing tradition between the two of you,” Hunter said, and the Princess nodded.

“Yes. As many as our duties are, finding time to spend with one another at all can prove to be a challenge. Time, at least, that is not committed to a task required by our duties, such as examining Sombra’s ancient lair. And what says ‘I love you’ better than a subtle reminder in the form of a harmless prank?” Luna shook her head, her starry mane rippling. “No harm is done, and it reminds each of us that the other cares enough to set something such as this up. Besides, while I may not enjoy finances as my sister does, I am more than capable of partaking in their discussion. So …” She motioned for the two of them to move forward. “If you would, let us begin going over your budget to see what finances the Dusk Guard stand in need of!”

“Actually …” Hunter said, his voice drawing both the Princess’ attention and that of Steel. “Before we get started, I had a question: has there been any word from beyond the border to the north? From the Ocean?”

“Ah.” Luna tucked her wings tightly against her body. “You seek any word of your friend, the griffon mercenary. At the moment, I’m afraid we know very little. Only that there was a battle of some kind, the Ocean warring with itself. Our foreign experts seem to think it was the griffon eyrie against pirates, but we don’t have all the details yet. Last we were aware, the borders were still off limits.”

“Gotcha. Thanks.” Well, I guess not everything works out all at once. And a battle? Ten-to-one Blade was involved somehow. I just hope she’s okay.

“When we know more,” Luna said, “I will make certain you are informed. I am sorry there is not more to tell you.”

“I’d appreciate that. And no worries. I’m sure she’s fine. She’s … tough.”

“You are a good friend to stand by her after being forced to stand opposing her,” Luna said, her voice soft. “She is lucky to know you. Now,” she sat up straight. “Let us do battle with that most devious of foes: financing. Captain Song, you have new proposals for me to examine?”

“I do, Princess,” Steel said, opening his saddlebags and passing them over. “New designs, upgrades, replacements … Much of it stemming from our first-hoof experiences with what did and didn’t work. For example, we had a real problem with ice build-up around the grating in our helmets and along the edges of the plates. Corporal Sky Bolt believes she can fix it with a new design, but she’ll need to do some prototyping first. She’s also got an idea for locking the helmet to the rest of the undersuit with a more advanced seal than we have right now.” Steel pushed several of the documents forward. “If you look right here, for example …”

The discussion moved forward, Steel doing most of the talking, Luna asking questions, and Hunter occasionally slipping in his own observations or explaining some of Bolt’s ideas. Not all of Bolt’s designs or suggestions were approved without thorough questioning, and by near an hour-and-a-half Hunter suspected that at least half had been turned back, though only a few outright. Some merely needed additional information that Luna requested, others had been met with countering suggestions for alternatives for Bolt and the team to look at.

Some, however, had been quickly approved. Thankfully, helmet and armor improvements were on the list, though the Princess wanted to see more on what sort of improvements could be expected outside of the list already given.

All in all though, he thought as Princess Luna finally noted the time and politely excused them from the office to prepare for night court. All in all that went pretty well.

Well … sort of. There was still … something itching at him, something he couldn’t quite put his hoof on what it was. But something was …

Missing, he thought as he and Steel moved through the halls of the palace, moving silently through corridors and passages on their way back to the barracks. The further they walked, the worse the itch got. I didn’t forget to bring anything up, did I? Or did we forget to discuss anything? Suddenly he wanted to be back in his office, playing one of his instruments. That always helped him think. And relax.

Music … relaxation. The answer came in a flash, and he wanted to facehoof. Of course! Hunter you bodgy … He took a low, calming breath. Of course. No wonder something felt off. Because things were off. One of the most important things.

“So, boss.” Steel turned to look at him as they moved out of the palace and onto the Guard grounds. “What’s the plan for the evening?” Maybe Steel thought about it.

Steel shrugged, and Hunter knew what his answer was before the olive stallion spoke. “Finish up filing the reports, go over what Luna’s approved with Sky Bolt as well as what she hasn’t and wants more information on. You should probably check in on the restocking …” His words trailed off as he caught sight of Hunter shaking his head. “No?”

“Yeah,” Hunter said. “No. To all of it. I think we need to have a meeting. With everypony. I’d say emergency meeting, but we’ve had enough of those lately.”

“All right,” Steel said, brow furrowing but without complaint. “What for?”

“What you hired me for,” Hunter said. “Which I apparently keep forgetting, seeing as how it took me this long to remember.”

Steel paused, the furrow in his brow growing more pronounced even as he came to a complete stop on the walkway. Hunter slowed then stopped as well, watching with expectant eyes as Steel thought it over.

Then his look of concentration faded, and he nodded, not once but twice. “You’re right,” he said, a clear look of purpose coming into his eyes. “We could use— Not that we’ve had the time for it, really, until … What’d you have in mind?” His expression shifted, the stern look of concentration becoming a bit more friendly.

“What’s our budget?” Hunter asked, giving Steel a grin.

“Unless you plan on buying a building or another airship, effectively bottomless,” Steel said. “Though in all seriousness, we do have a lot of leeway. Just nothing too extravagant.”

“So you agree?” Hunter asked as they began walking forward once more. Ahead of them, the Dusk Guard barracks sat on the edge of the grounds, the door shadowed in the twilight of the early evening.

“Depends on what we’re doing,” Steel said.

“Nothing bad,” he countered as they reached the door.

“Then I agree. You know what you’re doing. And Hunter?” Steel said, pausing as he placed one hoof on the door. “Thanks. I slipped right into old habits.”

“It’s what you hired me for, boss,” he said with another grin. “Next time I’ll make sure not to take a couple of days to think of it. That’s on me.”

“Works for me. Like I said, we didn’t have time. And that … That’s on me. Next time it won’t be. I’ll make sure we have it.” Steel pulled the door open, stepping into the entryway and turning for the common room. “Go tell Sky Bolt, will you?” He nodded in the direction of the workshop, where a faint but steady beat emanated. “Sabra’s likely with her. I’ll find Dawn and Nova.”

“Five minutes?”

“Make it three,” Steel said, and then winked. “Keep ‘em hopping.”

“You got it, boss!” He snapped a quick salute and then trotted toward the workshop, ignoring the bouncing weight of the saddlebags on his back. I can dump those off as soon as I’ve let Sky Bolt and Sabra know what’s up, he thought as the doors to the shop neared, the faint beat swelling. Bolt always worked to music, so much so that the volume—or rather lack of it—was a clue as to Sabra’s location. She only cranked the music down low when there was somepony else to talk to in the workshop.

Then again, it’s possible she’s meeting with her suppliers, he thought as he reached the doors and pulled one of them open, a wave of music washing over him as the portal parted. But she wasn’t. At least, not that he could see. The bulk of the workshop was, as always taken up by the body of The Hummingbird, though now it was surrounded by scaffolding and framing as part of the repair process.

Thankfully, the shop was high ceilinged. It had to be in order to hold the airship, large as it was. But it also meant that he could flex his wings and soar up above the numerous workbenches rather than try to peer past them. It felt good to be airborne once more, to stretch his wings in flight after such a long meeting.

Still, he couldn’t see any sign of the grey mare, or her black-and-white striped coltfriend. Not that either of them had openly declared such a status. It simply … was, and everypony on the team knew it.

With no immediate sign of the pair he flapped his wings, sending himself in a lazy glide around the front of The Hummingbird. Bolt’s sky-blue mane caught his eye, standing out against one of the rear propellers, and he spotted Sabra a moment later, carefully passing Sky Bolt tools while she worked on the propeller mechanism. Just part of a long list of things that needed to be fixed before the airship was sky-worthy once more. Not sky-worthy exactly, since it had flown back to Canterlot under its own power, but back at full capacity.

Sabra turned toward him as he glided over, though how the colt had heard him coming he wasn’t sure. Especially over Bolt’s music. It was quieter than normal, but still fairly loud.

“Lieutenant,” Sabra said, offering a quick nod rather than a salute, as both his hooves were full. “Does Sky need to meet with the captain?”

“I’ll be a minute,” Bolt said without pulling her head out of the prop assembly. Half of the housing had been removed, her head and part of one foreleg shoved deep within. “I need to at least get this blasted … piece … out!” There was a sharp ping from inside, her foreleg jerking, and then she disentangled her head from the housing, a scowl—along with quite a bit of grease—on her muzzle.

“Or not,” she said, still scowling as she pulled her foreleg out, a wrench clutched in it. “I think I’m going to have to cut it out.”

“Still no give?” Sabra asked.

“No,” Sky said, her scowl morphing into a pout. “It might be bent. Feathers. That’s not going to be an easy job.”

“Well, you’re in luck,” Hunter said. She turned away from the engine, a curious look on her face as she looked at him. “It’s not going to be your project tonight. Emergency meeting in the common room in two minutes.”

Sky Bolt’s expression shifted to one of surprise. “Another mission? Already? But we’re not ready!”

He shook his head. “No no, no mission. Just a meeting. Two minutes. I’ll explain everything there.”

“Well horseapples,” Bolt said, passing the tool to Sabra. “I guess as long as we don’t need to fly anywhere tonight. I can leave it for tomorrow. Two minutes?’

“Two minutes,” he said with a nod before winging his way back to the front of the workshop. He still had to think about what he was going to say.

Or for that matter, where we’ll … Wait, no, I’ve got it. The perfect place. And if they’re closed, well …

Dawn was, unsurprisingly, already waiting in the common room as he darted through, sparing her a quick nod on the way to his office. He was only there for a moment, his focus on dropping off his saddlebags, though his eyes did slip to the saxophone in the corner. Right after the meeting.

Nova was just trotting into the common room when he got back, a look of curiosity on his face. But he didn’t say anything as he took a seat around the table, dropping onto the same couch Dawn was sitting on.

They’re both quiet, he thought. Definitely should have thought of this sooner.

Well, looking back is easy, he thought, fanning his wings slightly and picking a seat opposite the pair. This one’s on me. I’ll take my responsibility for it. “How’re things going?” he asked, looking first at Nova. The purple unicorn looked fairly well-rested, but there was a slight tiredness around his face.

Nova shrugged. “About as well as it can be, I guess. Practice, training … looking forward to another late-night poker game with the Night Guard later. Hot Hoof says if I can beat her out of a week’s pay she’ll wager up the truth about those wings of hers; whether they’re real or part of an enchantment on the armor.”

“Couldn’t you just use magic to tell?” Hunter asked.

Nova shook his head. “That’s what I thought, but somepony specifically put some sort of shielded enchantment on that armor just to counteract that. Princess Luna, to be precise. She doesn’t seem to want anypony to know.”

“I can’t say I blame her,” Dawn said, her quiet, collected voice cutting through their conversation. “Or them, really, given what little history of fruit ponies is known.”

“What, what?” Hunter’s eyes widened as he looked at Dawn, who suddenly had a very smug look on her face. “You mean you actually know—?”

“I’m a doctor, Hunter,” Dawn said, giving him a small smile. “Of course I know. Fruit ponies are a recessive genetic trait in pegasus ponies. Extremely recessive, with less than one in every three or four thousand, last a census was taken. Though that number may be lower than expected. They’re very shy about it.”

“So they really do have the—?” Nova began to ask.

Dawn cut him off. “Fangs? Leathery wings? Slit pupils? Yes to all three.”

“Actually, I was going to say ear tufts,” Nova said, tapping one of his ears with a hoof. Dawn’s eyes widened slightly in surprise. “But that other stuff would have come next.”

“Wait,” Hunter said, holding up his hooves and leaning back. “So that’s really all natural, not just someone giving everypony a beat up? And it’s a pegasus … thing?”

“Genetic marker?” Dawn supplied. “Yes. Much in the same way I suspect that crystal ponies are an offshoot of earth ponies, fruit ponies are a rare genetic marker in pegasus ponies. Though, with the intermingling of the three tribes, odds are high that most ponies carry it now. In the right combination during conception, well … you get a fruit pony. Even then, it’s very rare. As rare as two third-generation earth pony parents giving birth to a pegasus, only for pegasi parents.”

“So rare,” Nova said. “But possible.” Again Dawn nodded. “And,” Nova said, his tone slightly incredulous. “They’re called fruit ponies?”

“As I understand it, they’ve gone by other names before,” Dawn said. “They’re quite secretive about their origins—some like to claim that they came about after a pegasus and a dragon had a magically-assisted tryst, making them part dragon—”

“Hence the wings, fangs, and eyes,” Hunter said.

“Exactly,” Dawn continued. “But while they may bandy the rumor about as truth, ask one of them to bite into a gemstone and they’ll quickly change stories, if not topics.”

“So where do they come from?” Nova asked, a thoughtful look on his face.

“No one is certain for sure,” Dawn said. “Well, rather,” she added quickly, leaning forward slightly on the arm of the couch. “No one who’s telling. I’m fairly certain that the Princesses know, or at least have close theories, but they’re tight-lipped about the subject as always. Records of them exist before the origin of Nightmare Moon, so despite some of the more negative legends marked them as cursed into existence by Nightmare Moon herself, or by Celestia for following her sister, we know they are not true. In addition, Princess Celestia denies those stories. It didn’t help their cause much after her sister’s fall, however. Many of the fruit ponies found themselves held to blame and were shunned by Equestrian society at large for some time. That is where some of the less … polite … names come from.”

“Okay,” Hunter said. “I’ll admit this is news even to me, but here’s the real question: why fruit pony?”

“Because of their diet.” Dawn’s answer was matter-of-fact, as if it was something everypony knew. “The same genetic marker that gives them their unique appearance also gives them unique dietary requirements. Which leaves many of them craving more fruits and sugars than most ponies—though the fruits are the most healthy for them.” The door to Steel’s office opened, the captain trotting out without his saddlebags, a stoic, slightly concerned look on his face. “At the end of the day, lieutenant, where you would desire a single orange, they would want perhaps two or three, the extra material replacing something else you would normally consume.”

Steel frowned slightly as he sat himself down on the opposite end of the couch from Hunter. “Putting my lieutenant on a diet, sergeant?”

“Not at all, captain,” Dawn replied with a soft shake of her head. “Merely educating him and Nova here on fruit ponies.”

“Fruit ponies?”

I guess the boss is just as clueless as we are, Hunter thought before he spoke. “Yeah. Apparently the ponies with the leathery wings, little fangs—”

“Ear tufts,” Nova cut in.

“Right, those,” he said with a wave of his hoof. “And the slitted eyes. That’s not a glamour.”

“Huh.” Steel leaned back, a thoughtful look on his face. “I always thought that might be the case.”

“Really?” Dawn asked. “How come?”

“Because I’ve sparred with a few before,” Steel said. “One pushed it when I was young, and I broke their wing. Despite everypony saying it was a glamour, that break felt real. Plus, none of the medics bothered to remove it when they started treating her. Seemed a little pointless to not drop a glamour if you were going to treat somepony.”

“Very astute.”

“Agreed,” Hunter said. “That’s thinking.”

“Well, I never knew, and it seemed rude to ask. Fruit ponies, huh?”

“Yup,” Nova said as the door to the workshop opened, Sabra and Sky Bolt trotting down the hall past the medical center toward the common room. “I’ll admit it: it was news to me too.”

“What was?” Sky Bolt asked, hopping over the side arm of the last unoccupied couch with a flap of her wings. Sabra effortlessly followed her over the arm with a small, gentle leap, a single outstretched hoof carrying him onto the couch beside her. Both seemed to have taken a moment to clean up slightly. At the very least, most of the grease was gone from Bolt’s muzzle.

Her wings, Hunter noted, or at least one of them, had also half-curled around Sabra the moment he’d sat down, resting lightly against the zebra’s back. Not only that, but the pair seemed to be just ever so slightly leaning into one another.

“Fruit ponies,” Nova said. “Just got confirmation from Dawn that they’re legit. Ear tufts and all. Unless she’s pulling our collective leg.” He looked at the medic as if hunting for some sign of laughter.

“Not at all,” Dawn said, even as Bolt let out a soft “Oh.” “Though I must say this is the third time you’ve brought up fruit pony ear tufts. Is this Guard you’re playing poker with … Well, is she catching your eye?” Hunter’s felt his eyes widen as Dawn grinned.

“What? No!” Nova said, shaking his head. “They’re just really … noticeable. And fluffy, alright?” He held up both his hooves. “Nothing against Hot Hoof, but she’s not my type, and I’m not interested.”

“You’re sure?” Dawn asked. Nova shook his head. “Ah, well, pity.”

“Wait,” Sky Bolt said, her gaze darting between both of them. “Not that that it’s not fun to speculate on Nova’s love life—”

“I don’t have—or want—a love life,” Nova said quickly. “Not in the cards right now.” Bolt kept on talking as if he hadn’t said a word, but Dawn did nod and lean back.

“—but none of you knew about fruit ponies?”

“Nope,” Hunter said, shaking his head. Nova and Steel mumbled affirmations as well.

“I did not,” Sabra said, turning to look at Bolt. “How did you know?”

“Well, my parents are earth ponies. So when I was born, the doctor made the comparison that my having wings was about as rare as a pegasus couple having a fruit pony. He didn’t call it that exactly, but he had to explain it to my parents, and later they used the same explanation with me, and then I asked the doctor …” She shrugged. “Yeah, so I was … eight maybe? Seven, before I found out?”

“Well, it was news to most of us,” Steel said, sitting upright. “But before we get too distracted, I’d like to get this meeting underway.” All eyes turned toward him as he spoke, and Hunter followed.

“I just want to start,” Steel said, “by saying how proud of all of you I am. Not one week ago, we faced a foe that … Well …” He shrugged. “I can’t even put it into words. A shade, a dark ghost, whatever you want to call it. He was evil, no way around it. He assailed our minds and our hearts.”

“We faced other challenges as well. Inclement weather. His supporters, ruling over the Crystal Empire with an iron hoof. Native fauna. But despite all that …” He looked around at each one of them again, and Hunter was shocked to see a moistness in his eyes.

“None of you stopped,” Steel said. “None of you quit. None of you asked ‘why me?’ and shied away from the challenge in front of us. You kept moving forward, kept fighting. When the Princesses first asked me to put together this team, I’ll admit that it was a daunting task. To ask so much of so few …” He shook his head. “And yet each of you has risen to the challenge. You’ve grown, fought, and bled together. Taken blows for one another. Thrown yourselves in harm’s way for one another, myself included.”

“Now,” Steel continued. “That doesn’t mean there won’t be room for improvement. Improvement to our armor, to our equipment, to our tactics. But there’d be no point in working to develop those things if we already didn’t have one of the most dedicated, capable teams in Equestria. Maybe the world.”

“Hunter, Dawn Triage, Sky Bolt, Sabra, and Nova Beam,” Steel said, looking at each of them in turn as he spoke their names. “I am proud to be your captain.” He brought his hoof up in a salute.

One by one, each member of the team sat up straight and returned the captain’s salute, faces beaming with pride. Nova was the first, followed by Sabra, Bolt, Dawn, and then last of all Hunter, Only when the last hoof had fallen did Steel relax and sink back.

“That said,” he began, his voice thick. “I should have said that days ago.”

“Captain, days ago most of us would have been too asleep to hear it,” Dawn said, speaking up with a smile. “And if I may be so bold, captain, I am honored to serve under your command and use my talents in the field.”

“Me too!” Bolt said, leaning forward, her wings fanning out and fluttering slightly. “The Hummingbird only flies because of you, captain.”

“You extended to me an opportunity to serve I could never regret,” Sabra said, his voice soft but carrying no less weight.

“You gave me a home,” Nova said, his voice somehow even quieter. “A chance.”

Hunter nodded, turning to add his own voice. “You’re our captain, boss. We’re glad you’re proud of us … but we’re proud of you too.”

“Thank you,” Steel said. There was no mistaking the tears wetting his eyes. “All of you.” Then he coughed, clearing his throat. “Though I think we all deserve a little credit, not just me. If this is—” He paused for a moment, and coughed again. “A home,” he said at last, “then it only is because each of you helped make it one. Together. Which …” He drew the word out. “Is partly why we’re here now. The lieutenant reminded me of something. Something very important. Our mission, as it were, isn’t done yet.”

Well, that’s one way to put it, Hunter thought as he saw the surprised looks on the team’s faces. Who says Steel can’t be a little fun when he wants to be?

“First Lieutenant Hunter has the details,” Steel continued. “But be aware that this is perhaps the most important part of our mission.”

“Uh … captain?” Bolt said, holding a wing up. “The Hummingbird is in pieces right now. It’d take a good hour or two to get her ready.”

Steel shook his head. “We won’t need The Hummingbird. Not for this. And before I let Hunter take over, Bolt, since I know you’re dying to ask, Princess Luna was interested in your ideas for improving the armor latticework with the thinner layers—”

“Yes!”

“—but she wants a more detailed summary report before any actual testing takes place.”

“Mark three is a go!”

“If the Princess approves a prototype,” Steel said. “Based on that early report.”

“I could do it now!” Bolt said, halfway out of her seat. Then she paused. “Except … mission, right?”

“Very important mission,” Steel said with a nod. “Hunter?”

All eyes shifted to him, and he sat up. “Right team,” he said. “We probably should have done this a few days ago. Scratch that, we should have, but I lost my focus a bit what with getting everything fixed up and back in order. So now I mean to make good on that last bit of any successful mission.”

Dawn had it. He could see it in her eyes. She’d figured it out; knew what was going on. And … she was smiling.

Well, I’ve got her approval. “So, that said … Who’s hungry?”

A chorus of surprised and confused looks bounced back at him. “Well?” he said again. “Anypony?” It wasn’t quite time for dinner. Hopefully they haven’t already eaten.

“I am,” Nova said. “What’s going on?” There was a suspicious look in his eyes now.

“We’re going to take care of the last, most important part of any mission,” Hunter said, giving them all a wide grin. “We’re going to party like there’s nothing else!”

“A party?” Sky Bolt asked, ears twitching but excitement in her voice. “Really?”

“True dinkum,” he said. “Any of you know the Fleet Beat restaurant?” He peered around the room, catching a nod only from Dawn. “Well, that’s where we’re going. Great food, live music that the crowd can join in on, the works.” His voice was rising now, and he gave a mental shrug. Why not go for it? He climbed to his hooves, wings spread.

“We’re going to the Fleet Beat, we’re going to get a private table, we’re going to order whatever we want, and we’re going to party like we just beat an ancient, unstoppable shade of evil. Because you know what, Dusk Guard? We. Just. Did!” He slammed a front hoof down on the center table for emphasis with his last word. “So, are you ready?”

A resounding “YES!” rolled back at him, matched by grins and smiles. Even Dawn had one.

“Great!” he continued. “Here are your orders, then. You are to go back to your quarters and get ready. Dress up, dress down, whatever you want! In a half hour we will meet back here, and we will go to the Fleet Beat, spend our bits like they’re raining from the sun itself, and have such a ripper of a party, the other Guard units will be training to match it! Are your orders understood?”

“Yes sir!”

“Then let’s go and celebrate us kicking flank! Dismissed! Woo!”

The meeting broke as ponies scrambled for their quarters, and he turned to Steel. “Pretty good idea, ri—?”

He paused. Steel was already vanishing into his quarters. “Well, I guess it was.”

“It is.” Dawn’s voice make him turn. She was the only other pony left in the room. “Will Thistle be joining us by any chance?”

“Ah …” It took him a moment to shift his brain over. “No. She’s out on some long-range delivery.”

“I see,” Dawn said with a slight frown. “Sorry to hear she won’t be free to join us. I would have liked to meet her. Another time, perhaps.” She turned and moved out of the room, leaving him alone, and slightly stunned.

“Well … all right,” he said to an empty room. Then he grinned and turned, heading for his own office. There was a saxophone there that was simply calling out to him, and he’d chosen the Fleet Beat for more reasons then their superb food …

Two hours later, his hooves wrapped around his sax at the team’s table as he bantered the band on stage with a friendly back-and-forth solo, Nova, Sky, and Sabra all cheering him on, a sudden moment of introspection him him, enough that he almost missed a note.

Last week we fought a shade, he thought as he finished off the solo with a flourish, “passing” the song back to the band’s own brass section, who threw their own spin on his melodies. Other ponies were cheering and stomping, some readying instruments of their own. Before that, golems and insane unicorns. He sat back down, Nova, and to his surprise Dawn, clapping him on the back. Tonight, we relax and enjoy one another’s company. Tomorrow … who knows?

But there’s one thing I can say for certain, he thought as the Nova excused himself and joined the dancers on the floor in front of the band. True dinkum, no whinging. Sky Bolt and Sabra joined Nova on the dance floor as the music shifted to something with more laid-back beat. Sky Bolt had put on some sort of dress of flowing silk that was much like the ones he’d seen the Plainslands ambassadors wear. A calculated move, if he had any opinion on it.

We’re a team. He traded a smile with both Steel and Dawn. We’re a family.

And no matter what comes at us, we’re going to rise above it. Because we’re the Dusk Guard.

And the rest of the world had better look out.

Dawn rose and extended her hoof to Steel, saying something Hunter couldn’t quite hear over the music, but he gathered to be a polite invitation to dance, and Captain Song rose, offering her a hoof as they both moved over to the dance floor.

Because if anyone’s bringing trouble, we’re going to be there.

All around him, ponies of all ages smiled and laughed, ate, danced, or enjoyed the music. Somewhere in the Crystal Empire, he knew, similar scenes were playing themselves out in their own way.

And we’re bringing our best.

He set down his saxophone and joined his team on the dance floor.

Author's Notes:

CREDITS

Dedicated to all the MLP: FiM fans whose music, art, and writing I've enjoyed since I discovered the show...
And also to the fans of the Dusk Guard, who commented, chatted, and helped recommend my fic to others.
And to those fans of my published work who come here just to follow my fanfiction out of a love for the stories I writer and the characters I create. You guys are awesome!

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CAST AND CREDITS:

The Dusk Guard

Captain Steel Song—Captain of Equestria's Dusk Guard division. A veteran of the Regency Wars and the only current non-Griffon Blademaster.
First Lieutenant Hunter—Second-in-Command of the Dusk Guard and a former Equestrian Ranger. A skilled tracker and flier.
Sergeant Major Dawn Triage—A former member of the Equestrian Rangers and one of the most skilled combat medics and surgeons in modern Equestria. Well-spoken and poised, with a deep respect for culture and high society.
Corporal Sky Bolt—The Dusk Guard's official engineer and the inventive genius behind the team's unique armor, airship, and equipment. Young, but already leaving her mark on history. In a romantic relationship with Specialist Sabra.
Specialist Sabra—A quiet but thoughtful philosopher-come-warrior monk from the Plainslands. The youngest Master in generations, Sabra left his monastery in pursuit of an answer to the question "What is life?" and now serves as a member of the Dusk Guard, considering them his home. In a romantic relationship with Corporal Sky Bolt.
Specialist Nova Beam—Once Equestria's greatest thief, not for the money, but for the fun and the challenge, Nova now serves his penance as the lowest-ranked member of the Dusk Guard. Sarcastic and snarky, but deeply committed to his new path in life, only time will tell what the future holds as he works to pay off his debts.

The Ruling Diarchy

The Solar Princess, Celestia—Regent of the Sun, and a ruler of Equestria
The Lunar Princess, Luna—Regent of the Night, and a ruler of Equestria

The Royal Guard
Captain Shining Armor—Dedicated, noble, skilled in defensive magic, and married to Princess Mi Amor Cadenza, regent of the Crystal Empire.

Notable Denizens of the Crystal Empire
Sterling Garnet—A former miner turned gemcutter who managed to avoid the sweeps that saw many of the Crystal Empire's defenders worked to death in mines or executed as dissidents. Lost his entire family, but during Sombra's reign worked to hold his community together as best he could.

The Order of the Red Horn
King Sombra—The evil deposed king of the Crystal Empire. A member of a supremacist unicorn cult, who forged them into a weapon of his own ambition, infiltrating and then seizing control of the Crystal Empire in order to use their magic to make himself a demigod that could rival the immortals.
Argent—One of King Sombra's seconds, and a master at organization and logistics, his special talent, which made him uniquely skilled at both managing the day-to-day functions of the Crystal Empire.

MUSIC

THE DUSK GUARD

First Lieutenant Hunter's Theme
Sweet Home Alabama
Lynyrd Skynyrd
All Time Greatest Hits

Specialist Sabra's Theme
Stranger in the Desert
Darkesword
OC Remix

Corporal Sky Bolt's Theme
Bug Hunt
Skrillex
Wreck-it Ralph Soundtrack

Steel Song's Theme
Overture
Daft Punk
Tron: Legacy

Specialist Nova Beam's Theme
Ain't No Rest for the Wicked
Cage the Elephant
Ain't No Rest for the Wicked

Sergeant Major Dawn Triage's Theme
The Last Schala Mix Ever
Brandon Strader and halc
OC Remix

EVENT THEMES

The Waking - Opening
The Winter Soldier
Captain America: The Winter Soldier

The Center of the Order's Power - Occupied Crystal Palace
Industrial Strength
The Dark Side of Phobos

Scars of the Past - Sombra's Remains
Surrounding
Universe at War

Credits

With the Old Breed (End Title Theme)
The Pacific Original Soundtrack

Well, once more we reach the end of another Dusk Guard adventure. It's been ... a journey. Once more, a special thanks to all those of you who have read and loved the Saga over the years. Thanks for the comments, the support, the upvotes, the favorites ... all of it. But most of all, thanks for sharing in this journey with me. There's a long path ahead of us all still, but we'll get to the end. Just you wait.

So until next time, from myself ... as well as Captain Steel Song, First Lieutenant Hunter, Sergeant Major Dawn Triage, Corporal Sky Bolt, Specialist Sabra, and Specialist Nova .... Thank you for reading. We will meet again.

My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic is owned and licensed by Hasbro Entertainment. Neither The Dusk Guard Saga nor its writer are affiliated with Hasbro in any way, nor does it lay any claim to the original characters or setting pioneered by Hasbro Entertainment. The characters created herein that are original to this fiction are hereby acknowledged as awesome, and totally the by-product of some amazing thoughts. No part of this work is for profit, and it cannot be resold, as it is a straight fan-work for the entertainment of those who peruse it.

The Dusk Guard will return ...

Epilogue

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“Battlemother!” Stringe looked up as the pup neared, her fangs already bared. “We found something!”

The pup—Jasper, she reminded herself. Named after a variant of quartz, and about as smart—came to a running stop in the snow, almost tumbling over his armor as he slid on all fours into the small piles of rock she was waiting in. Like the rest of her pack, he’d been chosen for the mission based on two things: his coloration, which was a gentle grey that blended in with the surrounding snow—So why’d his sire name him Jasper?—and his ability to follow orders.

She questioned that last one sometimes. Like many pups, he was eager and willing, with enough sense battered into him by the training camps to obey her commands. And what few he questioned, her own paw would set straight. But like many of his siblings, there was a lack of …

Temperance, she thought as she regarded the pup panting in front of her, bowing his head but taking quick glances up at her in his eagerness to report. Then again, that was why pups were given over to the command of stronger, more seasoned veterans like herself, dogs with more even minds, where the eagerness of youth had given way to caution, cunning, and deadly understanding.

“Well?” she asked, staring down at the pup.

He nodded quickly, tongue lolling out of one side of his helmet. “We found a thing,” Jasper repeated, the barks and growls coming out much softer than they had a moment ago. Which was good. He’d finally recalled their standing orders to be quiet. And before she’d had to pummel him into the nearby boulders.

“You’re sure?” she asked, bending down and letting one paw fall to the handle of the massive mace slung across her back. Jasper quivered and shrunk back, but nodded all the same, his armor shifting.

“Yes, Battlemother Stringe,” he said. “Dark magic. Pony magic!”

“Where?” Her question came out as a growl, and this time Jasper did shrink back. She caught him by his breastplate with one mighty paw, lifting him into the air, feet kicking wildly beneath him.

“North!” Jasper barked, pointing frantically the way he’d come. “That way!”

She pulled him close, close enough that she could see her breath ripple against his coat. “Where to the north, pup? You and your paw-mates were assigned to the north.”

“I … I …” She debated throwing him against the rocks, or maybe to the snow, to help jumpstart his mind. “Six miles to the east of the great pony city, one mile south! In the foothills!”

“Much better,” she said, letting go and dropping Jasper to the ground. “The rest of your paw-mates?” She couldn’t recall if she’d assigned one of her few warriors to that collection of pups.

“Watching, battlemother! Guarding the magic!”

“Good,” she turned, eyeing the others of her pack that had stayed with her in the rocks. One warrior, young but strong, and four pups. “We move,” she ordered, the warrior nodding beneath their armor. “Quietly.” She gave the last word a hiss of emphasis, and again her warrior nodded before turning and barking orders to the other four pups. They jumped to their paws, eager to serve the Golden Horde.

“You,” Stringe said, lifting Jasper again in one paw. “Take me there.”

“At once, battlemother.” The pup bowed low before turning and racing off through the snow to the north, out across the rolling foothills.

Stringe moved after him, scowling at the endless white plains as she moved out of the protection of the rocks, wind cutting through gaps in her armor and chilling her coat. This had better be something, she thought as her lone warrior moved after her, pups spread out around him. I am sick and tired of this endless cold.

The general had been right, however. The ponies had been planning something. Somehow, through some magic Stringe didn’t understand, they’d made an entire city appear in the middle of the plains. And then fought over it, pony battling pony and some strange, dark creature from the mountains both.

Her scowl deepened as she thought of the strange shadow creature that had rampaged across the mountains. Her pack had tailed the pony airship for days, almost revealing themselves several times. One of them, a pony clad in tan, crystal armor, had almost spotted them with his strange magic, and purely by luck.

A shiver ran through her, one that had nothing to do with the wind. Had they been found, it would have been better to die than to return home and report to the general that she’d exposed their operation. Her rank, and very likely her life, would have been forfeit. Better to die in battle for the glory of the Golden Horde. She’d been told as much when she’d taken the mission.

There had been that group of yeti they’d been forced to slaughter, the ones with the dark magic clouding their minds, burning from the crowns of crystal on their heads. There had been several pups wounded, but no mindless yeti were a match for the weapons they now wielded. They had cut them down to the last without any mercy.

Then had come the explosion from the center of the new pony city, and the strange rainbow lights in the sky that made one soft if one looked at them for too long. We should have left days ago. The thought rolled through her mind like tremor through the earth, but she ignored it. Softness could be countered by discipline, and she was a battlemother. And I must return with something for the horde.

That was why she’d stayed. That was why her pack was spread across the mountains, searching for anything, anything that she could bring back to Kaan. A fragment of crystal, of armor, anything. And yet the dark crystals seemed to have vanished, ripped from the world like they’d never existed.

As she moved she let out a low howl, as loud as she dared so many miles from the pony city. She’d seen pony guards walking the streets from the foothills, golden specks that spoke of order and force. Seen more arrive by train, even after the accursed airship had left. If they were spotted, or even suspected, they would be forced to flee or die.

No one must know we were here, Stringe reminded herself as she moved across the snow in a gentle lope. That was why their armor had been covered in thin, grey cloth. Why her pack was made up of warriors and pups with grey-and-blue coloration like her own. Camouflage. Stealth.

A pity none of the more specialized warriors were quite ready for such a mission yet. But the horde was still young. And their loss is my gain, Stringe thought, baring her teeth. Already she was a battlemother, one of the few females powerful enough to both lead a pack of her own and give birth to new pups to fuel the growing army of the horde. When and where I choose, she thought with a sense of satisfaction. She’d already birthed one litter of pups, a litter that had been conceived before the rise of the great General Kaan, now given in his honor. Her clan was from one of the first he’d claimed. Maybe after I return from this mission a success I will consider bearing another.

She would have many options available to her after she returned from her current assignment. If she returned with something to show for it other than wasted rations. The Horde was still young, only a few months old. Returning with empty paws would be seen as a waste of what resources they possessed.

Granted, it would likely mean being sent to acquire more, sent on a raid to the south, into the unknown lands past their new home. She’d heard the rumors of what lay beyond their magnificent new dwellings, of lands never explored occupied by creatures never seen. And armies too. Already some of their scout packs had returned with tales of spoils and combat to be had there.

Going south on a raid would mean going into battle. The idea made her paws clench in eager anticipation.

But that is then. This is now. The reminder brought her back in line as Jasper scampered on up ahead, leaving clear tracks across the snow. Idiot. Behind her, she knew, her warrior and remaining four pups were covering their own tracks, as well as hers. No traces.

Answering howls began to drift out at her from the winds, often muffled and garbled, but understandable enough. My pack returns. Good.

If Jaspers paw-mates had actually found something, then they would finally be able to depart. They could return to the caves in the Crystal Mountains, gather what was left of their supplies, collapse the entrances, and head east. At the Choke they would pack their armor and equipment away to take passage on a private vessel south, down the edges of the sea. To return home.

With a prize. A familiar scent teased at her nostrils, carried on the winds, and she almost growled. It was her pack. But since she couldn’t see them yet over the rolling foothills, that meant they were once again ignoring their orders to stay clean. She would need to remind them.

Then she paused. There was something else to the musky scent she was now smelling, sharp and bitter, a smell that made the hackles on the back of her neck rise.

Fear. She came to a stop, one hand going to the crossbow hanging at her hip, the other outstretched to her remaining warrior. “Ready your weapons,” she ordered, drawing back the cord of her crossbow with a quick tug. “Something has the pups spooked.”

The warrior grunted, drawing his own crossbow and loading it. Around him, the four pups she’d given him responsibility over bunched up, readying their own, weaker crossbows. While not as powerful as the larger ones she and her warriors wielded, nor as well-built or even easy to reload, they were far more numerous in the paws of her many pups. Once their ammunition was expended, the heavy weapons were equipped with large blades for close combat. Simple, brutal, and effective.

Stringe moved ahead, motioning with one paw for her remaining warrior to flank to the left as they neared the next hill. From the strength of the scent, the pups Jasper had led them to were on the other side. And they still smelled terrified, though there was no smell of blood with them.

A quiet howl echoed nearby. She recognized the call. Phosphor, one of her other two warriors. With his own paw of pups. Four for each of her warriors, and eight more besides. Good. If there is trouble, they will arrive to lend aid.

As she smashed the skulls of their foes in with her mace.

She crested the top of the hill, crossbow at the ready, and saw her wayward pups. All four of them were clustered around something in the snow, facing outward. Their ears were down, their eyes wide. But there was no foe nearby that she could see.

However, she could feel something poking at her mind. A tendril of unease, and she bared her fangs. Magic. And familiar magic at that. Not the earthen magic of her kind, but the magic of fear that the shadow pony had used against the city.

“What have you found?” she asked, lowering her weapon slightly.

“Battlemother!” One of the pups darted forward. “A pony horn, battlemother!” Behind where she had stood, Stringe could see a small depression in the snow. The sense of unease was faint, still, but seemed to be radiating from it. “Look, battlemother!”

She eyed the pup for a moment, checking her for any signs of strangeness in her eyes or elsewhere before taking a few steps forward and peering into the hole. There, at the bottom of the depression in the snow, its surface slick as if it had been radiating heat, was a red, curved horn. Not like any unicorn horn she’d ever seen before, but at the same time, it was the right size, and practically radiating magic.

“So … you did find something.” She shoved the slight edge of fear away as she looked down at the horn. This would be worth showing the great General Kaan. “Very good.” The pups nodded with eager excitement. “Very well.” She shifted her weight, one arm reached for her pack. “We will collect it—”

“Jasper will!” The pup jumped forward, and before she could say anything, wrapped his paws around the horn and lifted it out of the snow.

Then he froze, his eyes going wide with shock, body tensing as his jaws opened, sucking in a breath to scream, pupils shrinking—

Stringe’s crossbow spike entered through Jasper’s mouth, punching out the side of his helmet and skewering the pup’s brain. The body teetered for a moment, twitching, and then slumped to the snow, the red horn bouncing atop the limp form.

“Idiot!” Stringe snarled, glaring down at the dead pup. “Overeager imbecile!” The other three pups had widely eased away as she glared down at the body. “Touching a dark magic artifact with his paws! Fool!” She rounded on the rest of the pups. “Do any of the rest of you plan on joining him?” All stared up at her with wide eyes, but they shook their heads.

“Now we have to dispose of the body,” she said, turning back to the horn lying atop Jasper’s corpse. Blood was leaking out from beneath his body, now, staining the snow. She reached around her back, pulling out the small pack she’d been carrying since the mission began.

“Idiots,” she spat again as she pulled out the small, crystalline container from inside her backpack. It didn’t look impressive, but the unicorn working for General Kaan had assured her that it would contain any magic placed inside with the proper and careful bleeding of any excess magical pressure. She opened the box and set it in the snow. A pair of tongs came from her pack next, and she carefully reached out and plucked the horn from where it lay atop the pup’s body. She set it gently into the crystalline box, then, very carefully and using only the tongs, packed a blanket atop it so that it wouldn’t move much during transport. Only then, with the lid locked in place, did she at last put the tongs away and stand.

One more of her warriors had arrived while she was busy, bringing with him another four pups. All of them watched as she carefully secured the small crystal box within her pack. Whether or not the general’s pet unicorn could find a use for it, Kaan would have it to do with as he pleased. And if it held power of any kind …

“You three,” she said, pointing to the other members of the paw the dead pup had been part of. “Bury that body and all signs it was here. Deep! And fast!” The three jumped at her command, burrowing into the snow with great scoops of their large forepaws. “Leave no trace of blood or injury.” She stepped over to the body, and after a moment’s consideration, grasped the clean end of the crossbow spike between her fingers and pulled it free of the body, wiping it clean on the snow. No sense leaving any clues if someone did find the body.

She turned to look at her warriors. “One of you stay behind and make certain these pups bury the body,” she said. “The rest will gather the pack. We move for the cave. And from there, to home.”

She smiled, fangs bared to the world. “We bring General Kaan a great prize.”

END OF THE DUSK GUARD SAGA: BOOK THREE

The Dusk Guard Saga: Hunter/Hunted

by Viking ZX

Prologue - Fray

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Epilogue