> Maestro Cazador, an "Everyday Life With Guardsmares" tale
>  by TheManFromAnotherTime
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Chapter 1
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Major Blackisle
Commanding Officer
101st Military Intelligence Battalion
The Watchtower, Canterlot

Sir,

Per your orders to observe and report on the customs and rituals of our Lunar cousins in the interest of improving understanding and strengthening our friendship, I submit to you this account of the "Caça de Bruixes", the batpony Witch-Hunt.

The Witch-Hunt is an unusual combination of a religious ceremony steeped in tradition, a dangerous and brutal live-fire exercise which invariably results in casualties and often fatalities as well, and for our batpony cousins an essential training operation for which there is no substitute. It has no direct analogue in the annals of Royal Guard history. The ritual has remained unchanged for centuries, though it may one day disappear as the Eclipse Phase batponies inevitably decline over the coming years. It was a privilege to attend and document it for future generations.

Sincerely,

Quadra Demarais
Captain, Royal Guard





We set out as a group of eighteen of the "Star-phase" warrior caste with myself as a nineteenth. The "Caça de Bruixes" ritual is conducted in one of a number of caverns located in what the batponies call the Well of Shadows, the deep hole and enormous surrounding impact crater formed by Nightmare Moon's arrival on the Moon over a thousand years ago. As a two-abreast column, we marched from the Star-phase quarters to one of the city's least-travelled locations: its entryway to the Halls of the Blind, the network of twisting pitch-black tunnels and caves that are the home to the sightless batpony Eclipse-phase sorcerers. Generally forbidden to others, the Witch-Hunt is one of the only times when visitors are escorted through. I asked my liaison and escort, the Star-Phase warrior and Fifth of Meteors Juan Castello i Bran, why this was the case.

"Ah, the tunnels, Capità, they do not follow the rules of the places normal, jou see? A walk of a few minutes within them may send jou to a city on the side opposite of the Moon. And we are distant from the Well here; la Caça is too dangerous to risk a long boyage before and after. So, we take this way to arribe more quickly. And, in any case, we require an Eclipse to perform the ceremony."

Sure enough, a member of that phase awaited us at the otherwise-deserted entrance to the tunnel network. Wearing the traditional eyeless black mask trimmed with long red fringe, the decrepit, elderly batpony mare nodded at our approach, speaking Equestrian in little more than a forced loud whisper. "Welcome, brave Stars. Are you all prepared?"

Coming to a sudden halt, the Stars all replied in forceful unison, "Victòria o mort!"

As I admired their discipline, the Eclipse turned her masked face towards me. "And welcome to you, visitor. I hope you are prepared to die as well?"

The remarkable ability of these blind sorcerers to perceive the environment around them despite their handicap has not yet ceased to amaze me. I saluted, and replied as the Stars did, having learned some of the batpony tongue. "Yes, ma'am. Victory or death."

She grinned in reply. "Bueno. Follow me; your destiny awaits."

As we set off, Juan leaned over and whispered into my ear. "That is Rosaria Japamalita. She was informed in adbance of jour presence, naturally."

I nodded. "Of course. Is she also a 'Balladeer of Ghosts', like the one who performs magic at the general training grounds, your 'Grand Hall of Stars'?"

Juan shook his head. "No, Rosaria is an 'Oradora de los Sacrementos', a Speaker of the Sacraments. She does not officiate the actibities of the Grand Hall, but performs the rituals more solemn. Most notably, the Sacrementos tend to the sick and the dying. But any of her Phase may be called upon to administer the Caça de Bruixes."

"Is there a great difference between the different kinds of Eclipse?" I asked, remembering how the Balladeer of Ghosts had also performed healing after training sessions.

"Not so much, no," came the answer. "The distinción is in the manner by which they perform their sorcery. Jou will see for jourself the ways of the Oradora soon enough."

For the moment, I wasn't able to see much at all. After entering single-file into the tight, twisting rocky tunnel, all I could make out was the grey outline of a Star's bobbing tail beneath their black cloak, and I'm sure that Castello i Bran behind me could see naught but my own rear plumage as well. Even though several of the troupe ahead of me carried magical lanterns hung from their shoulder-slung spears, the press of figures in the constrained space made it so that all that light amounted to little more than dark dancing shadows. Despite the size of our group, however, the passage was surprisingly quiet; instead of the echoing clip-clop of armoured hooves against bare stone, it was as if we were walking on thick carpet, with tapestried walls to muffle any sound. I could almost have sworn I was wearing wax earplugs, and I briefly paused to lift one of the cheek-flaps of my helmet to check that I hadn't donned it improperly.

"Careful now, amiga. Keep up, and do not lose sight of the one in front of jou."

Juan's admonishment carried the hint of concern. I didn't ask what would happen if I should get us separated from the rest of the group in these labyrinthine halls. There was enough light to keep going, even without me providing any more with my horn, so I kept my head down and pressed on. Soon, the pathway began to twist and turn like a mountain trail, and we climbed up, then down, then up again.

Keeping track of the passage of time on the dark, silent march was beyond difficult. When we finally emerged into a open cave, dimly-lit by the outside, my hooves ached and I could have sworn we had hiked the entire day. But expressing my exhaustion to Juan resulted only in a laugh in response. "Ahh, I am afraid that we have been walking for no more than two hours. But the trip is familiar to me now; I remember that I was disoriented my first bisit as well. In any case," he said, surveying the site, "we are to rest for a moment before proceeding."

That rest was sorely-needed. Among the lower-ranking novice Stars, the habitual stoic facades had faded somewhat; it was clear I was not the only weary traveller. After partaking of my water-skin and some of my trail rations, I sat down with the others and surveyed the situation. Juan sat with me, explaining the composition of the group.

"Today we train three escuadrones: three squads, who have prepared together for this. The members are all of Second Rank, and each is led by a Third; the Thirds have participated in the hunt once before, when they were here as Seconds." I noticed that each of the three squads was huddled around their leader, whispering in hushed tones, now and again flexing their leathery wings underneath their black cloaks. "They go ober the plans and the training," commented Juan. "A rebiew final, before the ceremonia commences." Then he nodded towards the two remaining Stars: an old mare and a younger stallion. "On the right is Luis Reynauldo, a Fifth of the Temple of the Swarming Meteors, my Temple. He is the Maestro Cazador, the Master of the Hunt, and today he is in charge of our group. Jou will obey anything he commands, comprende?"

Batponies can be hard to tell apart for a new visitor, with their narrow palette of dark coats and light manes, but I recognized the stern visage of our 'Maestro Cazador'. In the brief time we had had for introductions before setting off, I had managed to greet and salute the commander, and commit his face to memory.

Juan continued, "Beside Luis is Luciana Guillema, a Sixth of the Temple of the Iron Bipers, an allied school. Today, she will play the most important role, one which she has played seberal times before: the Sacrificio Abominable."

"The 'Abominable Sacrifice'?" I asked, as I looked over the pony in question. She was older, perhaps in her early 50s, judging by the crow's feet around her eyes, though still in good shape. Unlike the others, she wore no armour and carried no weapons, though the traditional black cloak of a Star still hung from her withers.

"For the Hunt," explained Juan, "she will be the bait -- and, ultimately, the prey also. Her experience prebious will make this most interesting."

"Why is that? Will she be a greater challenge for the students?"

My companion shook his head. "No, Capità Demarais. At least, not directly. But things will mobe more quickly in the beginning than they otherwise would. The Accursed Shadows, jou see -- they will find her more 'hospitable', more 'receptibe'. They will find their powers sinister more easily jused."

I was about to inquire about the details of those creatures and their relationship to the ritual, when suddenly I was startled to hear a raspy voice behind me. "Have you informed her of what is to come, Fifth of Meteors?"

We turned to find that somehow the Eclipse, Rosaria, had silently snuck up on us. How she managed that with her mangled limbs is beyond me to explain; it seemed to surprise Fifth Castello i Bran as well. "Sí, Oradora," he answered, after a startle. "I was about to provide some details additional."

The black-masked figure turned to face me, the red fringes wobbling as she struggled to hold her head up high. It was clear that it took a great effort; I thought it was a wonder she managed to make the trip through the tunnel at all. "A unicorn. And a quiet one, at that. They did not tell me you were a unicorn; I didn't notice it when we first met. I might have refused a unicorn; perhaps I still should. It might be for the best."

Her statement left me puzzled. "I apologize for the lack of communication, ma'am. Is there a problem with my being a unicorn?"

She shrugged. "Not yet. But when the ceremony commences, there may be." Clenching her jaw, she inhaled sharply, sucking in her dry-cracked lips. "I admonish you, unicorn, to refrain at all costs from making use of your magic during the Hunt."

Juan had already cautioned me against that, though the exact reasons for doing so still eluded me. "I have been told as much. But I'd certainly like to know why."

Rosaria nodded. "Of course, of course; you are the explorer, the ambassador, the agregado. You wish to know and to report everything. I will try to help you to understand, but some things are best explained by bearing witness to them yourself."

Lifting a feeble hoof, she gestured over at the huddled soldiers, still commiserating under the watchful eyes of their leader, Maestro Cazador Reynauldo. "The Caça de Bruixes is not one hunt, but two. Our Stars hunt the abomination, and the abomination hunts them as prey in turn. But some prey, you must understand, some prey..."

She swung her foreleg around to point up at my horn.

"Some prey are much more appetizing than others. You will be like a new delicacy to the beast; one which wears a loud bell around her neck and a lantern on her head, as if to shout, 'Here I am! Come and get me!' You will be an irresistible meal to a creature with an insatiable appetite."

I won't lie: the old sorcerer's words wrought an uncomfortable hollowness in my stomach. I was supposed to be an observer to this hunt, not a participant -- and certainly not a target.

"Stay close to Juan," she continued, lowering her forehoof. "Stay close to him, and do not use your magic unless the situation is truly dire. To do otherwise would bring great risk. That is all I will say on the subject."

With that, and without waiting for any reply, she turned and hobbled off, heading for the mouth of the cave.

I looked over at my companion to find to my surprise that he seemed even more shaken than I was. "Is something wrong?" I asked.

Juan drew in a deep breath, his nostrils flaring open under the black reinforced-metal chanfron he wore. "I..." He trailed off, then cleared his throat. "I apologize, Capità Demarais. A moment of the nerbes. I am fine."

I had only known the stallion for a few weeks, but he didn't appeared 'fine' right now to me. "You seem a bit out of sorts, Quinto de Meteoros. Are you sure you're all right?" It pleased Juan when I addressed him by his title in his native tongue, even if I couldn't quite roll the 'r' sound at the end properly. I hoped my attempt would nonetheless help to calm him now.

Indeed, he could not suppress a small grin. "I will be 'all right', Cap-tain Demarais," he said, taking the time to try to pronounce my Equestrian title and last name properly in return.

But then he sighed again, looking off at the surface exit to the cave. "I am surprised at the warning final of Oradora Japamalita. She has made me uneasy." Then he turned to look at me, and bowed his neck over to huddle his head close to my ears, continuing in a whisper. "The Eclipse Phase sometimes habe the powers oracular. I wonder if she gabe this warning simply out of the caution, or if she has obtained some foresight into this Hunt particular. I worry for jour safety as a result. We could stop here and wait for their return, if jou wish. There would be no shame in this."

Furrowing my brow, I looked him in the eyes. "I'd like to go on. She only said there 'may' be trouble. I would think she'd have phrased things differently, or refused me entirely, if she'd had some definite vision of disaster in the future. And as for my horn, believe me, as an intelligence officer I have learned how to keep its magical draw suppressed when not in use. Your batpony Eclipse Phase aren't the only ones who can sense even the idle flow of mana."

All that was true, and my saying it seemed to brighten Juan's spirits. But I admit that his sudden bout of depression had multiplied my internal fear as well. At least I was doing a better job of keeping it bottled up for now.

An unfamiliar voice boomed out in the cave: Luis Renauldo, the Maestro Cazador, spoke in a commanding tone and a thick batpony accent. "Eet ees time forrr us to go now. ¡Vamanos!"

That was the only order needed; everyone rose to their hooves and reformed the same two-abreast column we had marched in before. Without waiting for the soldiers to completely assemble, the Maestro took the lead towards the cave mouth, accompanied at the head by the elderly 'Sacrificio'. Juan indicated to me that we should now take position behind them, ahead of the other Stars, since we were not joining an already-established formation as earlier when we had first set out. The batponies generally march with their officers in front, as we do, but the Eclipse-phase Speaker of Sacraments, Rosaria Japamalita, walked to the side, a few paces away from the Stars. As in much of Lunar life, the Eclipse stand apart from the normal caste hierarchy.

And so, out onto the Lunar plains we went. I do not think I will ever get used to the bleakness of that environment. The surface is overwhelmingly grey and any features, few as they may be, are scarcely discernible in the unyielding monotone. Under the midday sun it is also oppressively bright, with no canopy of trees or clouds to provide even the slightest bit of shade or contrast. Only staring up at the ink-black sky above gives relief to uncovered eyes.

The Well of Shadows was indeed as Juan had described it: an absolutely enormous crater, and we had emerged from one of its surrounding walls. Gauging distances on the surface of the Moon is all but impossible for a visitor, and a tricky task even for the natives, but a simple glance back at the towering cliff behind us, as well as a comparison to how tiny the same shadow-edged mountain range appeared on the far-off horizon ahead of us, gave me at least the general impression of a pit at least several kilometres in diameter.

"How close will we get to the actual 'Well of Shadows'?" I whispered to my companion.

"About halfway," he replied. "If jou wish, and if all goes well, we may ask to bisit the centre of the Well afterwards. The biew is spectacular."

"I wouldn't want to inconvenience the entire platoon," I said, but Juan only shook his head.

"There is no inconbenience in the asking. The centre is a site of pilgrimage for us, and we go there often after a hunt successful. And Maestro Reynauldo is the one who suggested jour presence here; he may appreciate jour interest in our traditions."

That statement piqued my curiosity. While relations between the Royal Guard and the Star-Phase batponies have become more cordial since the recent incident in Canterlot, and while I have always been treated with hospitality during my assignment, none of their officers had yet actually *requested* my presence; not for any meal or even their brief afternoon tea-time snack (the 'berenar'), and certainly not for any important ceremony. My presence amongst the batponies had been negotiated with the Lunar-phase priestly caste, and my escort ordered by them as well.

Juan noticed my perplexity and provided an explanation. "Reynauldo led patrols of the 'Night Guard' in Canterlot for some time. Like many in such a position, he debeloped a dislike for the R.U.C., but met also other soldiers of the Guardia Real in circumstances much more agreeable. He has spoken highly of them; I think he hopes jou will also be worthy of such praise as he has giben jour kin."

A batpony Star disliking the soldiers of the Royal Undermountain Constabulary was hardly a surprise; the RUC had held the Stars' reins in Canterlot, after all. I was curious to know what guardsponies he had interacted with which had given him this positive impression of the service in general. Regardless, I was thankful to those anonymous trailblazers, without whose efforts I might not have been able to find a group willing to bring me along on this important ritual.

As we marched onwards, I took a moment to look over the soldiers behind me, now that we were in the full sun instead of the dimly-lit hallways of the batpony city. I had seen 'Swarming Meteors' conduct combat training in their arena before; the school focused on the art of multiple sudden and swift dive attacks, hence the name. Like most Stars, they wore folding scissor-like blades on the arms of their wings, but their school also emphasized 'punching' with armoured metal sabots and body-tackling using heavy peytrals. The Meteors had heavier helmets than most other Stars as well, though even these were not as heavy as standard in the Royal Guard; batponies still favoured mobility over armour. In addition to the traditional equipment of their school, all of the Stars today carried the batpony short-spear or lance, the falarica, the polished metal tips glistening in the light. I have seen quite a lot of the now-famous Lunar steel, and these struck me as unusually fine examples. Perhaps special weapons reserved only for the Witch-Hunt?

Seeing me looking back at them, Juan whispered, "Their falarica have been coated with the silber. The wing-blades also."

That would seem to mark them as being for a ceremonial purpose, but the Stars generally do not indulge in such frivolities. "Is there some significance to silver in the Hunt?"

He nodded. "The abomination is bulnerable to the silber. The steel ordinary may suffice, but silber is much more effectibe. And only silber can kill."

My understanding of things up until now had been that any deaths, even of the sacrificial hunt victim, were unintentional. "I thought the object was always to capture the subject of the hunt alive, so that they could be exorcised."

"That is the intent, jes. But if the abomination is too powerful, this may be impossible. Sometimes they must be killed instead." He indicated the elderly Luciana Guillema ahead of us with his muzzle and continued, "That is why the Sacrificio Abominable is always an older Star, one who has fulfilled already their obligations to their Temple and to their House."

The idea of sacrificing an older but still capable officer for the purposes of conducting a ritual training is of course completely alien to the Royal Guard. We treat our veterans as crucial repositories of institutional knowledge and examples to be held up for the new generations. I examined the elder Sixth of the Temple of the Iron Vipers more closely. Despite being destined for a dangerous and potentially-deadly ritual which would involve pitting her against fifteen soldiers, she held herself upright. She was noble in her bearing, and when I could see her face, it showed no sign of either fear or regret about what was to happen today nor about what she had, according to Juan, experienced several times before.

In that regard, I reflected, she was indeed an example to be held up for the new generations who were following in column behind her, just as we would expect a 'salty' Sergeant First Class or 'hard-charging' Colonel to be in our service.

Though I still had a great many questions about the Witch-Hunt, I decided against any further conversation while on the march. The batponies are as native to the Lunar surface as it is possible to be, but they are nonetheless acutely aware of the ease of ambush its featureless surface provides for the unwary victim. Thus, whether at daytime or night, they trust greatly to their tufted ears to provide advance warning of danger, and keep talk to a minimum while on the move, when the noises of their own hoofsteps make it even more difficult to hear. Flying is no better, as when armed with the wing-blades, even well-oiled, the noise they make is as loud as the scratching of hooves against Lunar dust and rock. Besides, the physically-crippled sorcerers of the Eclipse phase are incapable of flight, and we couldn't leave Rosaria Japamalita behind.

While the winding tunnels of the 'Halls of the Blind' had been utter confusion, in my brief time on the Moon I have, at least, learned to judge the day by the direction of the Sun, and I note that we travelled for a little over an hour before reaching a sort of trench cut into the surface. It began shallowly, so that we were able to walk easily down, but grew in depth until we were some three or four stories beneath the surface, deep in the shadow cast by the walls surrounding us. Down there was enough light to walk with ease, but looking up, the dimness made it possible to now see the other stars in the black sky.

After another ten minutes or so of trotting along at that depth, the passage ended at a cave opening, this one hewn to the shape of a large arched door, and the Maestro Cazador brought the column to a halt. Still hobbling along beside us, Rosaria scuttled to the head of the troupe and turned to head in first. Curiously, despite being in command, the Maestro was not the next one to go -- instead, he stepped aside, bowed his head down low, and the elder Sacrifico Abominable entered.

Even more curiously, we did not follow behind her immediately. Instead, our group of seventeen waited outside the mouth, spread out against the sides of the cleft, lurking in the shadows for quite some time. I no longer had the Sun as a reference point, but I would gauge we spent nearly half an hour in silence. Though there was hardly any movement from the soldiers, their anticipation was clear, and the tension palpable. The Eclipse and the Sacrifice were clearly getting things ready inside; after that, it must be time to begin. Even Juan seemed to be more on edge now that the moment was near.

"Not long now," he whispered. "Remember what Rosaria has told jou."

I remembered. Suddenly, there was a rustling of hooves and equipment, as the batponies all readied themselves and reformed the column. There must have been some signal from the inside -- too faint for me to hear, especially not with my helmet, but apparently audible to the keen-eared batponies. The Maestro Cazador walked down the line, administering a final inspection of his troops, exchanging a few words with each of the three Third-rank soldiers who were equivalent to Sergeants in the Royal Guard.

That done, he returned to the head, pausing briefly to give a knowing nod of acknowledgement to Juan and myself. And then he lead us all in.

I didn't know what to expect. Batpony architecture tends towards the primitive and functional. Outside of the opulent Lunar Sanctuaries which are their religious centres, caverns tend to be excavated with an eye for simplicity. Carpets and tapestries are used extensively to provide colour and comfort, and iron fittings and furnishings abound. Rarely, walls or ceilings may be decorated with ornamental paintings.

What faced me inside had little in common with any of those things. We passed into a deep, wide gallery whose three-storey roof was supported by a dense grid of wide columns supporting an endless array of arches overhead. Dark and gloomy, the outer walls were much too far away to see given the limited illumination; it was like entering some ancient underground dried-up cistern. With walls and ceilings made of bare stone, and not a single scrap of fabric to be found, even the tiniest hoofstep echoed and reverberated all around, making it seem like there were a hundred times our number entering the vast hall.

We marched in, passing row after row of towering pillars until the entryway behind us disappeared into the darkness -- but ahead of us, at least, appeared something distinct. In what must have surely been the centre of the chamber, and illuminated by a dim cone of grey light emanating from the ceiling, stood a colossal statue stretching up to a dome roof.

It was Nightmare Moon, posed standing on three hooves, the fourth raised up in anticipation of movement, her head looking up towards the sky, wings held half-open at her flanks as if about to launch into the air, and adorned with glossy metal replicas of her regalia. The sense of movement from the piece was striking; so too was the glistening black and shimmering dark blue in which it had been painted. Whatever ancient batpony sculptors had carved this piece could not hope to capture her flowing mane in stone, but by illuminating the statue from a pinhole skylight above, they produced a similar effect with the help of a thin haze of moon-dust slowly trickling down in the low gravity.

That light also highlighted another particular feature of the statue: a pair of shining ivory dagger-like upper canines, clearly visible in Nightmare Moon's half-open mouth.

Supporting the statue was a short plinth, perhaps three hooves tall. And arranged at eight points around this plinth were small raised daises -- or so I thought. When we approached closer, I could make out that all but one of these had been smashed, sundered in two and the chunks left as they lay. The single remaining platform, large enough for a pony, bore the Abominable Sacrifice, Luciana Guillema, who stood rigidly facing inwards at the imposing stone colossus, bare-backed.

Behind her, nestled up against the nearest column, the Speaker of Sacraments Rosaria Japamalita sat on her haunches, holding up a long string of prayer-beads, which she rolled to and fro in her forehooves, muttering something under her breath.

The Maestro Cazador surveyed the situation, then nodded back at the trainees. In the blink of an eye, the Stars split into three groups, casting aside their black cloaks and flapping their wings, shooting themselves through the columns to take up positions surrounding the statue and the ceremony. After a moment, the thousands of echoing clip-clops faded away into silence.

Our leader stepped lightly forward to inspect the ritual being performed by the Eclipse. Juan, who had also shed his cloak, stretched out a bladed wing over my back, pulling me to one side until we stood flank-to-flank, huddling next to the nearest column. "This is a place most ancient," he whispered. "Built by The Children of a thousand jears ago."

The Children, or The Children of the Stars, or most completely The Children of the League of Stars, is of course the batponies' own appellation, after the name of Nightmare Moon's army of followers during her rebellion, and the fact that they are the direct descendants.

"What did they do here?" I asked.

Removing his wing from my back, he pointed the tip of the steel blade at the pedestal bearing our Abominable Sacrifice. Undernearth her hooves, I noted, was a crescent moon: the same design as on Nightmare Moon's flank. "The same thing we do presently," he answered. "Only, they did not gather to learn how to banish the abomination. They created them, by the hundreds, by the thousands, and used them to war against each other."

Then he pointed at one of the broken altars. "Once our ancestors realized their mistake, they smashed the tools, and hunted down all abominaciones. We train in the memory of this error, and we train because we do not know if all of the beasts were destroyed."

I looked behind us at the vast hall with its endless rows of columns. How many 'Abominable Sacrifices' had once lined up here to participate in an ancient accursed rite? Eight at a time -- for eight is an auspicious number amongst the Children -- stepping up to be surrendered over to dark forces that would grant them profane powers, then sent into battle against their own kin?

And Juan's last statement: how many of those creatures might still roam the endless dark tunnels of the Moon? The batponies did not fear the darkness, but they were always wary of it.

A chill ran up my spine, and I shivered. In the foreboding dark of this labyrinth, under the imposing glare of Nightmare Moon, one could almost swear that the thousand-year old ghosts of sacrifices past still haunted this place. What would they say, if they could still speak?

There was a raspy whisper from ahead.

"Madre nuestra, que estás en la luna, santificado sea tu nombre," began the Speaker of Sacraments, now rubbing her rosary more energetically, so the free beads clattered against each other in the echoing silence of this ancient temple.

It was a prayer to the Mother, which meant the 'Great Mother' of the Children: Nightmare Moon. Fanged and terrible, her idol towered over all of us.

"Venga tu reino, hágase tu voluntad en la Equestria como en la luna," she continued, and my eyes were drawn to the sacrificial mare.

A litany of conquest; the triumph the batponies had awaited for a thousand years. Even under the imposing shadow of the monument to malevolence, the elder warrior still stood tall. The Sixth of the Iron Vipers did not look proud, but appeared calm and collected, as if this ceremony was little more than an ordinary day's work. Yet I sensed tremendous tension underneath.

"Ave Gran Madre, llena eres de gracia, las estrellas estan contigo, bendita tú entre los jacas, y bendito el fruto de tu magia, los Niños."

Rosaria continued on with her intonation, now imploring for good fortune, and I could swear with each word spoken, the imposing icon of sin became brighter -- or maybe it was just that the rest of the great hall seemed to darken.

"Y no nos metas en tentación, mas líbranos de las sombras malditas."

A prayer against the forces of evil. In the stillness of this ritual, I became aware of a movement of air across my ears. There was a current in the room, coming from the statue ahead, perhaps from the skylight above. It seeped in slowly, almost deliberately, and smelled of the iron-rich lunar dust -- except there was a rusty undertone to the scent, and I was reminded of a time when I had to put my Combat Livesaver Course training to use.

It was the smell of blood.

"En el nombre del Madre, y de los Niños, y la Noche Bendita. Amen."

With that closing verse, the Speaker of Sacraments shook her rosary beads with a noisy *clack*, then began again from the top, this time more quickly and more powerfully. "Madre nuestra, que estás en la luna, santificado sea tu nombre," came the recitation once more.

On the sacrificial altar, Luciana closed her eyes. Beside me, I could feel Juan tense up. And standing stone-faced next to the Speaker, the Maestro Cazador slowly removed his cloak and extended his leathery appendages, silently flexing his own silvered wing-blades into place.

The liturgy continued, the Eclipse-phase mare's scratchy voice now loud enough to echo as well, the walls whispering back her words at us.

And that's when I saw it -- something that truly did not belong; not in this room, not in this world.

From the deep shadow underneath the stone colossus, a tenebrous tendril of darkness emerged, like a strand of seaweed, visible only from being silhouetted against the shimmering glow that surrounded the statue.

An Accursed Shadow! Reviled object of terror for all batponies, from the lowest Shadow-phase untouchables to the most exalted Lunar-phase priests. The very creature Luciana had invoked protection against, and yet the very same creature being summoned for this abominable ritual.

As the incantation continued, the Shadow seemed to billow and grow, its form now visible swirling about the plinth, with the appendage increasing in length and girth until it formed an inky-black arm, stretched out to just barely touch the Abominable Sacrifice's muzzle, pausing there as the Speaker completed another cycle.

She started the next round, even more loudly, and the echoes grew more intense until my ears were filled with an incomprehensible cacophony of batpony speech.

Just when I started to feel overwhelmed by the monstrous noise, that's when the darkness lunged forward.

I caught the tiniest display of panic and the barest start of a shriek as Luciana reared back, but it was of no use: the shadowy vapours instantly enveloped her head, pouring in through her nostrils and mouth, flooding in even through eyes and ears as the greater mass of it pulsed forward to envelop her entire body.

It was all over in a moment, and the obsidian ichor disappeared entirely into the batpony, whose head was now hung low as if from exhaustion.

The Speaker of Sacraments fell quiet, and all around there was the subtle noise of metal scraping against metal as the Stars readied their weapons and adjusted their hoofing.

I held my breath.

The seconds passed in motionless silence. Then, suddenly, the Sacrifice's head whipped back up into place with an impossible speed. She opened her eyes, slowly twisting her neck ever so slightly to look left and then right, then carefully turned in place on her hooves to face the Maestro Cazador.

Luis Reynauldo and the new creature, the Accursed Shadow-possessed abomination of ancient batpony history and present-day nightmares, beheld each other in silence, each grimly staring the other down.

With her turned around, the visible results of the transformation were now apparent. The wrinkles had vanished from the elderly Sacrifice's face. Her body, taut and athletic before, now appeared almost gaunt, with the pattern of her ribs showing against her naked chest. And her eyes, previously faint amber, now gleamed bright yellow.

Then she grinned a wicked grin, and revealed two thin, long, sharp-looking canine incisors which I had never seen in any batpony mouth before.

But they were exactly like those of the statue behind her.

"¡Ahora!"

At the Maestro's shout, a flurry of figures came crashing down ahead of him, and the Hunt was on.

Six Meteors swooped down in a loose circle around the abomination and, standing on their hind hooves with their wings out for balance, began to thrust and slash at her with their falarica lances in a hurricane of silvered steel accompanied by sharp-voiced war-cries. But incredibly, the unarmoured mare deftly dodged each attack, weaving and bobbing with supernatural speed, reacting to each strike almost before it could begin, all without ever stepping down off the plinth. Not one blade so much as shaved a single hair off of her mane or tail, as far as I could tell.

She was still grinning, showing off her new teeth even as she showed off her fantastic moves, when there was a brief planned lull in the flurry of attacks and three more Stars joined the fray, crashing down from the darkness above, slamming onto the stone floor and swinging their lances in devastating overhead chops.

But the creature simply stretched her wings up -- bare wings, without armour or blades -- and deftly parried all three weapons just at the end of their wooden shafts high above her, avoiding the sharp silver. With a twist of her torso, she wrenched two of them clean out of the forehooves of their wielders, sending them clattering to the floor around her, forcing two of the surrounding lancers to hop to avoid the caterwauling devices.

As the two disarmed batponies rushed up to attack with their wing-blades, the third withdrew to the outer circle and the pincushioning began again. In this two-on-one duel, the abomination was now forced to perform even more spectacular acrobatics, hopping, somersaulting and rolling in place to avoid repeated horizontal slashes from the unparriable close-quarters weapons. Those around the rim poked forward whenever they saw the opportunity, but still the creature managed to avoid all contact.

How much longer could this go on for? She was surrounded nine-to-one, yet still the Stars could not scratch her, and there was no room to admit more attackers. Who would tire first, the hunters or the Abomination? The answer to that question was made terrifying clear.

"Hahahahahahahahahahaha!"

The fanged whirlwind began to *laugh* -- and laugh *unceasingly*, without pausing for the slightest breath, even as she careened around on the tiny stage. No creature of mortal flesh could perform such a feat.

"Aaahahahahahahahahahaha!"

Still cackling, she changed tack, and instead of merely dodging all attacks, began to parry and riposte as well, using her hooves to shove aside spears. Against a low thrust to her backside, she smashed a heel down and shattered its shaft, robbing yet another Star of their lance. There being no room for a third to join in close-quarters with wing-blades, that one was forced to retreat, presumably to take up position for a fresh dive attack when opportunity permitted.

"HAAAhahahahahahahaahaha!"

The abomination's defence gradually shifted to offence, her deflections becoming more forceful, until those who did not find their spears being broken or ripped away found themselves being brusquely shoved about or toppled over. Another, and another, and another of the lancers was disabled in this manner, until finally only the two wing-slashers next to her remained in the fight, panting and foaming at the neck from the continued exertion.

"AAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

Spinning around towards us, howling with laughter, the possessed creature thrust her left wing-arm out, knocking the assailant on that side back and tumbling down onto the floor, then, with a breathy hiss suddenly replacing her laugh, immediately lunged her forelegs forwards, seizing the other Star in an embrace.

Before he could bring his blades down to slash at her, she bared her fangs and slammed her muzzle into his neck.

The bitten Star let out a yelp -- but it disappeared almost immediately into a soft moan, and he went limp.

In a flash, the Maestro Cazador hurtled forwards into the fray at breakneck speed, head held down in a gale-force charge, but even this scarcely troubled the beast. Releasing her prey to crumple onto the ground, she deftly dodged to one side.

My stomach turned at seeing her muzzle and neck messily soaked crimson. The pungent scent of fresh blood was unmistakable.

Fifth of Meteors Luis Reynauldo followed up in a flash with a wing-slash, but against this inevitable attack, the monster displayed a new ability, and, with a single terrifying shriek, exploded into a cloud of mist which flew away off into the dark depths of the hall, so that the Maestro Cazador's silver blade struck only air.

"¡Coño!" growled Luis, then snarled, addressing the other Stars around him, the urgency of the situation apparently improving his Equestrian pronunciation. "Gather your arms! Steel yourselves! Then go and do your duty! This one ees not to be trifled with. Capture ees not possible; you must slay her without delay! Now!"

The hunters immediately gathered their dropped weapons and reformed into three squads, huddling together for what sounded like some quick admonishments on tactics from the experienced Thirds.

Then Luis barked over in our direction, "Juan, bandages!"

Without a second thought, my companion left my side and flapped over, reaching behind him into the folds of his cloak for the demanded medical supplies.

I considered watching from the column, staying out of everyone's way, but then I looked over at the blind Eclipse-phase Rosaria and remembered her admonition. "Stay close to Juan," she had said, and so I decided to follow after him. Besides, maybe I could help treat the fallen soldier.

Juan and Luis were already quickly bandaging up the bite-victim's neck, wrapping it carefully around his throat. Yet as quickly as they added another layer, the blood seeped through it. The dressing wouldn't work without compression, but they couldn't very well strangle him.

I had to speak up. "Fold over some of the gauze instead of wrapping it. I'll hold it on to apply pressure."

There was no surprise, no shock at my participation. Only a nod of acknowledgement and a swift execution of instructions that they had probably been on the cusp of realizing as well.

I sat down on my haunches, and held my forehooves onto the wad of cloth. After a few moments, when it seemed like I was making some progress in staunching the bleeding, I glanced over at the Speaker of Sacraments, who sat silently hoofing through her rosary-beads. Couldn't she use her magic to close the wound?

Juan followed my eyes and my train of thought, speaking quietly. "Rosaria cannot help us. She uses already her magic to keep the Abomination contained within the hall. We cannot permit an escape during the Hunt."

Behind me, the group of hunters finished their commiserations, and I heard the fluttering of wings, the scraping of metal, and the clip-clopping of hooves taking off in pursuit of their quarry.

"¡Buena Caça!" Luis shouted after them, wishing them good luck as they disappeared into the darkness. Then he grumbled more privately to us, "Carrramba, ay have neverr seen one so aggrressive beforre. Or so rapida."

My escort nodded, "Neither habe I -- not so soon after the transformación." Looking down at the abomination's first victim, he took a deep breath. "Jou made the choice correct. She must be killed, immediately."

I had been warned that the Abomination was unnaturally swift and strong, the equal of several experienced Stars. But I hadn't expected such a dominant performance, and clearly neither did either of the Fifths here present.

Sucking in through his teeth, the Maestro Cazador shook his head, "¡Ay, ay ay! Seeex times! Seeex! More than ay can remember any other doing! We should have known not to let Luciana perrforrm the rrrite again."

"Sí," agreed Juan. "She should have died at the fifth. Two Stars died that day; they should not have captured her alibe."

A moment of silence passed between them, as they mused on the present situation. Surely, no longer shackled to the notion of incapacitating the Abomination, their Stars would unleash their full potential and quickly subdue the monster? Yet they both seemed greatly concerned.

Was this what Juan had been worried about when he said things would 'move more quickly'? That the Accursed Shadows would find such an experienced sacrifice more 'hospitable' and 'receptive'? It seemed like it had to be.

And why declare that Luciana should have died during the fifth Caça de Bruixes? What was the significance of such a solemn proclamation? She was old, perhaps older than most Sixths I had met, but were elder Stars who failed to advance in rank simply condemned to die in fulfilment of this harrowing rite?

All these thoughts of mine, as well as whatever thoughts Juan and Luis were dwelling on, were interrupted with the sudden arrival of the sounds of combat in the distance. We all raised our heads and turned to face the source of these noises.

Surrounded by echoes, we heard shouts and cries, the stomping of hooves and the slapping of leathery wings. There was the ring of metal against metal, the crack of wood, and the thudding of stone.

The cacophony continued for some time, and the longer it went on, the more tense Luis and Juan both appeared to become.

Finally, above the din, there was a blood-curdling scream: "¡Madre!"

A call for help.

Things went silent again.

The Maestro Cazador, the Master of the Hunt, the one responsible for this entire operation, gritted his teeth. "She has taken anotherr. They weell rregroup and purrsue."

He looked down at my patient, then to Luis, then to me. "Thees was deliberrate. She deed thees to heenderr us. Normally therre ees leetle of the bleeding."

Then he nodded, his mind decided. "We must leave heem. Now that the otherrs are in purrsuit, she will lose them and rrreturn heeerrre to try to keel the Oradora de los Sacrementos and escape."

Leave my charge? To potentially bleed out, if the wounds were not sealed or if we did not finish our work soon enough? I looked to Juan for approval. He nodded in agreement. "Jes. We cannot afford to tend to the wounded now. We must be ready for her strike which may come at any moment."

With great reluctance, I let go, and got to my hooves. Readying myself for a physical fight -- for I hadn't forgotten Rosaria's other admonition against using my horn -- I was shocked to see that the hall now seemed to be brighter than before, filled with a grey tinge that I couldn't place at first.

Then I realized -- it was mist. The gallery was filling up with mist. Such a phenomenon of moist air exists nowhere in nature on the Moon. Was this one of the 'powers sinister' of which Juan had spoken?

Luis seemed to have just noticed it as well.

"¡Gran Madre! Even thees brujería, she can eenvoke alrready. Therre ees no doubt now -- she weel strrike us. Surrround Rosaria! Prrotect herr at all costs! Be rready, for thees beast ees impatient! The otherrs weel join us when they heeerr ourrr fight!"

Juan and I took up positions flanking the blind Eclipse, whom I now realized was still muttering the same prayer under her breath, held in a trance as she maintained some ward keeping the Abomination from escaping to wreak havoc on the Moon.

As we waited, weapons poised, the fog slowly grew. Minutes passed, with only the echoing of hooves from all around as the Hunters pursued their quarry. The grey cloud reached up to my neck, and I could scarcely make out my hooves beneath me. How could we possibly defend against an attack in this miasma?

And yet, wasn't it all a bit absurd? With a single blast from my horn, I could blow all the mist away. Or illuminate the hall and easily reveal our quarry. Or erect a physical shield around the Speaker of Sacraments. Why not use my powers as a unicorn to rebalance the scales against the Abomination?

The temptation to act was very real; I could almost hear a voice whispering in my head, "Do it. Unleash your strength. You can save them all. Do it. Do it. Do it." I instinctively flattened my ears against my head to try to silence the impulse.


"OPEN the FLOW, CONDUIT."


In a panic, I spun my head around to look behind me. "Who said that?"

Juan glanced around in confusion, "I hear nothing."

In front of us, Luis remained steady. "She is heerre. Bewarre her treecks."

My heart raced. Mercifully, there was silence in my head once more.

But it didn't last.


"OPEN the FLOW, CONDUIT. OPEN the FLOW and we will LET THEM ALL LIVE."


I had to close my eyes at the deafening whisper.


"DO IT. USE YOUR HORN. BLOW AWAY THE MIST. SHINE YOUR LIGHT. SHIELD THE BINDER. YOU CAN SAVE THEM ALL."


There was a cold breath on my nape just beneath my neck-guard, and I gasped. The voice was no longer *inside* my head, but clearly behind me.

"Just you. That's all I want. I'll kill them all if you don't."

I couldn't help it; I had to look, and slowly turned my head.

Behind me, hanging motionless upside-down in the air, was the Abomination that had once been Luciana Guillema, Sixth of the Temple of the Iron Vipers, clutching a stolen spear.

She smiled and gently shook her head, whispering. "It won't hurt. It feels good, actually."

I wanted to cry out that the quarry was here, behind me, but I was completely unable to speak, held in place by some unearthly power.

The monster leaned her muzzle forward, until she was nuzzling against my cheek, speaking seductively into my ear. "Let me in. Open up and let me in. That's all you have to do."

In that moment, my strength started to fail. I felt faint; my eyes shutting halfway. Only the noise of a shout and the dull thud of my helmet hitting the floor kept me conscious in any way.

"¡Meteoros!"

I was out of breath even though I hadn't moved an inch. I had to blink several times before I could feel control over my own body returning to me. Gasping for air, I turned my head to see Luis and Juan frantically duelling with the blood-sucking abomination.

Barely able to make out flashes from their fight, it was a struggle just to roll over and plant my sabots in the ground again, though I couldn't get up. I felt weak, dizzy. I put a hoof to the unarmoured underside of my neck, where her muzzle had been.

My hooftip drew back drops of blood, and the source of my weakness was now obvious. She'd bitten and drained me, too. How much of my vital essence had she withdrawn? I'd surely be out cold if somepony hadn't interrupted her.

"¡Aaaaagh!"

A cry from above: it was Juan, speared in the flank by the abomination's silver falarica. With the blade stuck in him like a skewer, she released it and he collapsed onto the floor, clutching at the wound with his forehooves and writhing in agony.

Now it was just her against the Maestro Cazador until help could arrive. He slashed and whipped about with his bladed wings, spinning around to use his saboted hind hooves, a whirlwind-force of offence, but as before, she dodged every cut and parried every kick.

I could see it now: she was toying with him. He was nothing to her; a distraction. When the other Stars arrived, she'd flee again, and the cycle would recommence, only with three less opponents against her. She'd attack and withdraw until we were worn down to nothing at all. Then I'd be powerless against her, and she'd be able to dispose of the Eclipse at her leisure.

It mustn't come to that, I told myself. I looked over at Juan, who had just managed to extract the weapon-tip from between his ribs, now clutching at the bloody gash in his chest. His only hope for survival was magical healing from the Speaker of Sacraments.

There were cries and galloping hoofsteps growing louder. The others would be here soon, and with their arrival would go our chance to stop the abomination.

I had to do it; I had to use my horn. But not just to obliterate the obscuring mist or to illuminate the prey of the Witch-Hunt or to shield us from her blows. I had to stop her, with one fell blow.

She moved with blinding speed -- but there was something that I knew I could move even faster.

If the Abomination truly could sense the use of magic, then I had to be sparing, and catch her by surprise. With tremendous effort, I shuffled over towards Juan, who was still reeling on the floor.

He looked at my approach in confusion, but when I laid a hoof on the bloodied spear next to him, he understood, and nodded, grimacing with pain and gasping to breathe.

Clutching it close to my body, I rolled onto my back. It took everything I had left to manipulate it into position, turning it around so the butt of the stock lay against my chest and the tip of the spear pointed at the monster.

The Maestro Cazador still engaged her in a desperate melee just steps away from me. I waited.

She wouldn't leave him like this. She'd finish him off the same way she'd finished the first two, and tried to end me: with an embrace. She was just waiting for the right moment, when the other warriors could see their Master of the Hunt fall before them. Maximum demoralization.

The rushing hoofsteps were close behind me. I saw Luis miss another slash as the bloodsucking creature weaved down out of the way, then swiftly knocked her head up into his chin. Charging in, she opened her mouth to reveal her fangs.

I waited until I saw them dig into his neck.

Then I lit up my horn and seized the lance in my telekinesis.

The Abomination's eyes opened wide, and she tried to unlatch from her prey.

I launched the falarica forward with all my magical might.

Just as the beast turned to bear her bloody-mouthed fangs at me in a deafening shriek, the silver tip of the lance shot through the base of her neck and she fell onto her flanks, clutching at the injury.

A thunder of hooves pounded around me and black leathery wings flapped above, as the witch-hunters flew at their quarry, blades held forward.

But my strength was spent, and my head collapsed back onto the ground. I could only stare up at the dark ceiling, but I heard the same monstrous shriek repeated again and again -- accompanied by the clattering of steel and the horrible sound of rending flesh. Then I shut my eyes, and everything went dark.





When I awoke again, I found myself looking up at Juan Castello i Bran, Fifth of the Temple of the Swarming Meteors. He was looking down at me with a smile.

"Bienvenido de nuevo to the Moon, Cap-i-tain Quadra Demarais of the Royal Guard. I am bery glad that jou habe rejoined us today."

I no longer felt faint. It didn't take much effort at all to roll onto my front and get back to my hooves.

We were still in that foul ancient temple to Nightmare Moon. But Juan's deadly wound had been healed, and I saw the Eclipse-phase hobbling away from me, only to sit on her haunches then lie down against one of the columns with an exhausted grunt.

Juan stepped closer and spoke into my ear.

"Rosaria gibes her apologies to jou. Jou were the least in danger of death, so, she has healed jou last." He looked over at the Speaker of Sacraments as well, and we saw the blind old mare put her head against the stone. Within seconds, she was snoring.

"And now she requires the rest before we can leabe," continued Juan. "Such attentions as our group required has exhausted her, for now."

I looked around at the hunters. Most of them were sitting on their haunches. There didn't seem to be anybody else lying down -- though there was a black cloak laid over a certain spot just in front of where I had been on the ground. "Did we lose anypony?" I asked.

It was the Maestro Cazador who answered, stepping towards me. "No, gracias a la Gran Madre. And thanks also to you, unicorrrn."

Stopping directly in front of me, he bowed his head down low. "Ay belive we would not have surrrvived without you. Ay am happy to be imprressed once more by the Rrroyal Guarrd of Equestrria."

I was a little flustered by this very heartfelt thanks. "Thank you. I'm glad everything worked out in the end."

As Luis rose back up, then left us to commisserate with his juniors, Juan leaned over and whispered in my ear. "I think perhaps jou should not ask the Maestro Cazador to bisit the centre of the Well today."

Then he grinned. "But I am sure he would be happy to take jou there another time, as would I."





I have not yet had the opportunity to follow up with the Speaker of Sacraments Rosaria Japamallita. In the end, she was too tired to make the journey, and we were forced to carry her back to the Halls of the Blind. She has declared that we should have a meeting in the near future to discuss the details of the Hunt.

Since this expedition I have found my standing amongst the Stars has increased to astronomical levels. I have scarcely had a moment alone to write this report on account of being invited to dine with Fifths and Sixths of various Temples at every meal. Juan has also enjoyed this celebrity status, and we are constantly being asked to retell the story of what has become known as the "Caça de Bruixes de Unicornio Quadra Demarais", the Witch-Hunt of the unicorn Quadra Demarais.

Maestro Cazador Luis Reynauldo has, as Juan predicted, promised to take me to see the the centre of the Well of Shadows when I am no longer in such high demand.

I look forward to quieter times when I can attach addenda to this report regarding the detailed risks of using unicorn magic during a batpony Witch-Hunt, and regarding the most sacred site in Lunar culture.

m.p. Quadra Demarais.