The Tyranny of Discord

2

There Will Be No Others

Skylark found she vastly preferred the pegasus' screams to his silence. He wouldn't beg, of course; he had proven himself far too resolute for that, but there was only so much pain that even the bravest pony could suffer quietly.

They had played their verbal game of cat and mouse in a dank chamber within the labyrinthine tunnels that weaved and slunk their way beneath the streets of the city above. Here was the only part of Equestria that the Coalition could truly call their own—in the dark and the cold, where the light of neither sun nor moon could find them. The captive pegasus had given Skylark about as much useful information as she had expected he would: very little.

She had started simple. She asked him his name.

The pegasus looked at her with the vaguest hint of a smile across his face. She hit him for that.

She asked him if he knew where he was.

Again, no answer. She hit him for that as well.

She asked him a series of questions (each as fruitless as the next) regarding Renault and the ponies he compelled: Why had he returned, and why now? What had he wanted at the market? Where was Renault now? How many ponies did he have under his command? What was he planning? Whom, if anyone, did he answer to?

For every question the pegasus failed to answer, she hit him. Sometimes she hit him twice just for a change of pace. She hit him until her hooves were aching, and then she had others hit him for her as she continued. He lost the smile early on, but talkative he was not, much to Skylark's chagrin. After reviving him from unconsciousness for the third time, she grew irritable. “Enough of this,” Skylark said to the wardens assisting her. “Just kill him and be done with it,” she affected.

“Fools,” the pegasus choked through blood and broken teeth. “Your rebellion was finished before it began.”

Skylark rounded on him in a fury, grabbing his mane and forcing his head up to look her in the eyes, two topaz jewels that reflected the deleterious light of the single brazier that flickered menacingly in the corner of the room. The shuddering flame played over her sable coat and illuminated the shock-yellow of her mane. Her wings were raised in a minacious warning, dark tips dipped in the same yellow as her mane and tail. In the bleak gloom of the dungeon, it would have been a fool who said that the tenebrous pony did not make for a fearsome sight.

“It is you who are finished, dark one,” she hissed, her face so close to his they almost touched. “You and that foul excuse for a pony you call your leader, and that vile master of hatred and chaos you all serve!” She hit him once more, and he crumpled to the ground. He lay there in the dirt and the grime, laughing and choking on the blood and his broken face. Skylark stood over him, glaring vehemently as he heaved a long, shuddering breath to steady himself.

He looked at her, and through the mask of blood and dirt and what remained of his face, she could see his eyes, smiling and laughing. “You think we do what we do in the name of Discord?” He looked at her pityingly, which only served to further her anger. “You think us the same as those pathetic warmongers of High Command?” He made a horrible sound somewhere between a laugh and a choking sob. “We are loyal only to Renault, and he serves Equestria, not some deranged tyrant who fancies himself a god.”

Well, that she had not expected. Skylark was taken aback, and there were few things she hated more than being confused or shown for a fool. And yet... there was something about this pony, something about his poise and the way he spoke that she liked not at all. A disquiet had begun to stir within her, one that rankled and, she was painfully aware, drew perilously close to unease. She tried to still the thoughts and to keep her voice calm as she said, “You think yourself better than common murderers and despots, do you? Then tell me: why does Renault keep none but pegasi and unicorns in his fold?”

The pegasus gave her a look of contempt. “Our leader has his own reasons for choosing to do without the aid of earth ponies within his ranks. And what of you, oh esteemed lady? It would appear that you are just as feathered as I. Why should you risk life and limb for the woes of ones not your own?”

“Even pegasi have been subject to mistreatment and injustice,” Skylark replied through gritted teeth. “The Coalition fights for the betterment of all ponies, not just the special favor of few.”

“Noble words,” the pegasus mocked. “And a virtuous cause. Tell me, were you to succeed, how long do you presume those benevolent intentions to last? How long before it is you looking up to the rest, begging for restitution? And do you think they would grant it?” He smiled once again at her. “This isn't chaos. This isn't prejudice or iniquitousness: this is the way the world works.”

Skylark gazed at him, pondering this bloodied, beaten pony who stood proud and tall before her as well as his words, said with such intrepidity.

The pegasus continued. “There is a darkness coming, fair lady, and it comes for us all. A darkness so vast and impenetrable that neither sun nor moon nor stars will pierce its veil.” As he spoke, the disquiet Skylark had felt suddenly took hold of her, an inexplicable fear wrenching at her heart as she imagined this prophetic shadow descending around her. The room seemed to swell, looming. She shrank away. “Horns, wings, hooves—it makes no matter. Your petty jealousies and insecurities will mean less than nothing when the world is swallowed up. Do you think your strength of will shall protect you? Or perhaps that of magic, which you covet so dearly?”

It isn't true! Lies, all of it! “The only darkness I fear is that of injustice, and an unending reign of tyranny!”

He shook his head. His words were desperate, sad. “Renault has seen what is to come, and he is the only one who can stop it. If you continue to interfere, should you prevent us from doing what needs to be done...” He looked at her then, and all the mocking laughter and all the pain was gone from his eyes, replaced by stark conviction. “Then you will know chaos, young pony. And neither a tyrant nor a god will be able to hold back the nothingness that awaits you.”

There was a silent moment, a dark moment of terrible portent when the pegasus' words still hung in the fetid air, and Skylark felt the weight of a despair so deep it threatened to engulf her... and suddenly, it was gone, washing over her like an ice-cold wave, then fading. She shook her mane, taking a moment to compose herself, to breathe again. A cold sweat beaded on her feathers, but she paid it no mind. She looked into the pegasus' eyes. “Who... are you?”

The pegasus held his head high and arched his wings, and said with what dignity remained to him, “We are the protectorate, and what we do, we do for Equestria. That is all you will ever learn.”

Skylark paused for a moment, gazing at him thoughtfully. Before her stood a pony who was bloody and broken in all but spirit, tortured to the edge of his life; he was probably half crazed by this point. Was she mad as well, letting his nonsense rile her? She looked at his wings, still powerful and majestic even now. She addressed him with a smile. “You've been most... efficacious. If I may say, you have beautiful wings.” She turned to her wardens. “Cut them off.”

As she made for the door, she thought she caught the first glimpse of fear betrayed in the spark of his eyes. She would take that as a small victory.

Night had fallen by the time Skylark ascended from the caverns and tunnels below and stood once again in the city streets. She had surfaced in an alley close to the market square, and that was where she headed now.

Three days had passed since she had been there last, when she had stood beside Zhevalla and Swan Song in the light of the early morning sun. Together they, and every pony that looked to them for courage and guidance, had dared something that hadn't been seen in Equestria for generations: impudence. She smiled in the dark. For that was undoubtedly how it would be seen to those who stood to lose something were the status quo to shift. And they were many. Even now, though it had taken over a day to root out any remaining loyalist enforcers and take the city, their hold was anything but sure, and it was only a matter of time before Equestrian High Command would seek to take it back.

A runner materialized out of the night beside her, saluting curtly. “The commander wishes to speak with you, ma'am. She awaits you in her quarters.” Flying was not permitted at night to any pony but those of High Command, and though the city was theirs, it was too dangerous to send message by pegasus as the surrounding skies were still likely to be patrolled. They could not risk drawing unwanted attention to themselves, and thus most of the couriers were earth ponies, strong of body and sure of foot. Skylark thanked him, and he disappeared again into the dark, bound for another task. She sighed, trying not to be too disappointed at having to forgo yet another night in the open air. She took one last deep breath of the cool night, and headed back to the alley to return to the tunnels. Even now, though they should have felt free to relish in the open air above, after so long underground, it was the only place many of them felt safe. Like rats who have unknowingly inherited the world, our eyes can no longer abide the sun we sought so long for. Just as she came to the entrance, the clouds in the sky parted, and moonlight streamed down, framing her in the threshold, her shadow stretching long and dim until it was swallowed in the dark that descended before her. Skylark turned and gazed into the full face of the moon.

“You'll see, Princess,” she whispered, half to herself and half to the moon above. “Wherever you are, and your sister, as well. For too long have we knelt to the will of gods and queens. I mean no disrespect, lady matron, but it is time for all ponies to forge our own future, free of any rule but our own.” She bowed slightly, wings outstretched, then blushed, suddenly feeling foolish. What was happening to her? First believing in the nightmarish ramblings of a half-mad pony, and now paying reverence to long lost relics of the past, ages gone... No, she thought, we are alone. There would be no aid cast down to them from on high. They would see this through for themselves, with their own strength, and build a shining future for all. She turned and headed into the earth.

Back underground, however, the doubts began to gnaw at her. She had been fighting them, trying to ignore them, since that moment in the market when Zhevalla had, with a single word, declared their temerity to the world and tied all of their fates together, bound to the success (or failure) of the Coalition. And if they were to falter, there would be no forgiveness for any of them.

She was not one to question Zhevalla's commands; Skylark had known her long enough to rely on the fact that Zhevalla had a tactical prowess that could, at times, border on prescient. She had been one of the only earth ponies to ever hold rank within Equestrian High Command. Skylark had met her before the Coalition was even a wish within their hearts, when Zhevalla had first left High Command and the loyalists when it was clear the faction had turned to nothing but organized, bloodthirsty butchers. It could be said that the idea for the Coalition and the rebellion had been born of their unique and lasting friendship: they differed in age by over a decade, and one had wings while the other did not, but they found a mutual respect and admiration within each other that stemmed from their desire to see a better tomorrow for each of their kinds. They had been loyal friends and compatriots ever since. But that was a long time ago, Skylark knew, and it was perhaps a different pony who led them today. A brilliant tactician, yes, but headstrong, and noble to a fault. To think that she might endanger the cause with some misplaced gesture of bravado... no, she would not believe that of the commander. But then why was she filled with such a sense of foreboding?

The passageways that laced like spiderwebs beneath the city were damp, cold, and gloomy, eerily lit here and there with flickering lamps, sputtering torches—anything that the ponies inhabiting them could make use of. This here was their greatest achievement. It had taken months and years of infuriating patience and nerve-wracking secrecy to excavate them under the scrupulous and watchful eyes of Equestrian enforcement. Even working nonstop, with some going so far as to live beneath the ground, dedicating all of their time to clearing the tunnels, they were only now beginning to truly see the fruits of their immense labor. Offshoot caverns and grottos branched from the main tunnel that extended (nearly) the length of the city. These were used for whatever the Coalition needed them to be at any given time: storage, sleeping quarters, meeting halls, dungeons. Still, the work was far from completion, and further from efficiency. Though there were multiple entrances and exits, the main corridor remained the only real avenue for getting from one place to another. It was cramped, and already suffering from overuse. It twisted and turned as it made its way underground, which meant any trek from one side of the city to the other was laborious and lengthy. On top of this, it was also atrociously indefensible: with so many potential entrances all funneling into a central choke point, taking it would be difficult, but getting out if under siege would be an impossible nightmare.

What went unsaid by many was the sheer luck that had brought them this far. Zhevalla in her cunning had chosen what was perhaps the perfect setting within which to mount and lead their rebellion: the city was small, poor, quiet, and above all, secluded and discrete. It was the best they could have hoped for. And yet, even in a place as far removed as it was, ponies still talked. It was simply an impossibility that their endeavors would go unnoticed by the wrong eyes and ears for long. She grimaced. Indeed, there had been more than a few potentials for disaster... and they had had to be dealt with swiftly and permanently. Skylark wasn't a pegasus who often concerned herself with things like guilt or regret; everything she had done, much of it unpleasant, she did for the cause. She would tolerate no threats to the Coalition, whether they came from outside or within. She also wasn't one to put much faith in luck, which was exactly what unnerved her so. The truth of it was that even before Zhevalla's reckless display in the square, they had been living on borrowed time already. How long could they have expected their inexplicable fortuity to protect them? She pawed angrily at the dirt and rock beneath her hooves. The truly terrifying fact of the matter was that they still weren't ready, even with their tremendous efforts and ongoing windfalls of good fortune. Should Equestrian High Command decide to commit their full strength in order to put them down, they would be powerless to stop it. Their militia could handle themselves against standard enforcement, but their training paled in comparison to that of the ponies of High Command.

There had been two High Command ponies stationed in the city, and the Coalition had been keeping its watchful eye on them. Zhevalla had ordered them captured or slain as soon as the fighting in the market had started. They would be missed in time, of course, when they failed to report back to High Command, but the alternative—that they be allowed to escape—was out of the question. Their silence would buy the Coalition precious time, however short.

The pegasus had been taken unawares, thankfully, and died without trouble. Skylark shuddered to think what their hopes might have been if he had been allowed to take wing. Unfortunately, that was where their luck had ended. The unicorn...

“Eight.” Zhevalla had repeated slowly, dumbfounded, when Skylark brought her the news. She had been holding court in her chambers with Swan Song and a handful of others. “The cost of the silence of one pony was the lives of eight of our own.” There was a moment of deathly quiet as Zhevalla buried her head in her hooves. The onlookers said nothing, for what was there to say? “And I paid it. Willingly.”

We were fortunate. It could have been so much worse. Skylark knew, as Zhevalla did, that High Command ponies did not give themselves up to the enemy. There was never going to be any surrender. They gave no quarter, and asked for none in return. Is this what you sought to keep from us, Zhevalla? Is this the true measure of your former comrades? How can we hope to stand against such raw power and brutality? It was enough to make even Skylark's blood run cold.

She stretched her wings in frustration, yellow tips brushing the sides of the tunnel beside her. It seemed as if the walls drew closer every day. She wanted to fly again, to feel the wind in her mane and watch the world fall away beneath her. Ponies did not belong underground, a pegasus least of all, and the tolls of unending months of scuttling and secrecy were beginning to make themselves known. She often felt as though a great weight were bearing down on her from all around, one that, oddly enough, had naught to do with the cloistered shadows of their subterranean haunt; she felt it most keenly above ground in the light of sun or stars, a peculiarity she found most unsettling. Worse, she knew her discomfort was beginning to show. Skylark prided herself on a certain stoic indifference and evenness of temper, yet lately even that had begun to crumble, if her recent interrogation was any indication. Foolish as it may have been, a part of her wished for a straight confrontation with High Command. Though the outcome would undoubtedly be precluded against them, she almost would have preferred it to the watching, waiting, and wondering. Her talents were wasted on the clandestine, and she was certain that feeling of helplessness only contributed to her unease.

Zhevalla had chosen a medium-sized hollow just off the main passage and near directly below the center of the city as her personal quarters and staging area. Normally, this part of the tunnels would have been frantic with activity as ponies hurried along the corridors with messages, supplies, and more bound to or from the commander. At this time of night, however, there were none save the two wardens upon the threshold, standing vigil against the murky gloom. An earth pony and a pegasus, they saluted Skylark through, and she dipped her head and rustled her wings in polite acknowledgment.

Upon entering, Skylark immediately averted her eyes, blinking rapidly; compared to the muted half-light of much of the underground, Zhevalla's chamber was blinding. Dozens of torches and braziers embellished the walls, each casting a warm, flickering glow that mingled with the others and bathed the room in ceaseless vibrancy. They were made smokeless through the aid of unicorn magic, but Zhevalla preferred that they retain their heat, and thus the room was sweltering. It was no surprise, then, Skylark thought, that the pony they gleamed for seemed to radiate torridity herself.

Zhevalla stood at the end of a large table, piled high with ledgers, dusty tomes, maps, and other documents, which she poured over while speaking in hushed tones to the unicorn beside her. Swan Song, dulcet of voice and coloring, was third in command, and appointed leader of the unicorn faction of the Coalition. The two conversed fervently side by side. Not wanting to interrupt, Skylark settled back on her haunches to await Zhevalla's attention.

The commander of the Coalition looked every bit the part. Her coat was afire with reds, golds, and ambers, her mane and tail blazing with the ferocity of the morning. The fiery disposition that one might expect from such a pony was tempered by a certain reverence, a humble regality with which she carried herself and instilled in all who looked upon her. Many saw her not only as a leader, but as the apotheosis to which all ponies—horns, wings, and hooves—should aspire to. There was a rumor (half-serious and half in jest) within the Coalition, particularly with the earth ponies, that Zhevalla had once been a pegasus who had flown too close to the sun in a prior life. The sun had stripped her of her wings for her gall and audacity, but in admiration had seen fit to see her reborn, wingless, but with the essence of fire burning within her very soul. Her body and mind alike were trimmed and sharpened from a lifetime of training and leadership. It was a well known fact that Zhevalla was one of the only earth ponies to ever serve within the upper echelons of Equestrian High Command; what was known only to Skylark and a handful of others, however, was that she had also served under Renault, before he had forsaken High Command and the ponies under his wing, and had disappeared without a trace... until three days ago.

“Apologies for the delay, Skylark.” Zhevalla and Swan Song made their way to the entrance where Skylark waited, having apparently finished their discourse.

“No apology necessary, Commander.” Skylark stood as the two approached. “I am at your beck and call.” Her tone was cheerful, but she kept her gaze fixed on Swan Song as he came to stand before her. He had proven himself to be an extremely capable pony: intelligent, strong of body and magic; yet quiet, aloof, soft spoken and demure. And Skylark trusted him not at all.

Zhevalla chuckled. “Is that a fact? I shall remember that.” There was the briefest moment of silence, in which Zhevalla became aware of the bridled tension emanating from the dark young pegasus. She turned to the unicorn at her side. “Song, if you would. We had best make haste.”

He bowed. “Of course. I shall depart directly, Commander. My lady,” he nodded to Skylark as he withdrew, whose fierce eyes still regarded him coldly.

“You wanted to see me, ma'am?” Skylark said once he had departed.

The earth pony mare said nothing, instead looking at Skylark contemplatively. She shook her head, passing a hoof through her mane in resignation. “We have enemies aplenty as it is, Skylark. There is no need for you to seek them in our friends.”

“I meant no disrespect, Commander.”

“Really? Then why are you seemingly unable to proffer even the slightest of feigned courtesies when there is a unicorn in your presence?”

Skylark bit her lip. “Is this what you called me here for, ma'am? To remark on my conduct toward the horns?”

“No. Much as you could benefit from a lesson in proper social graces, we have not the time.” Zhevalla sighed, rubbing her eyes wearily. She beckoned Skylark to the table, motley with scrolls, books, and reports. “As I mentioned, our enemies are numerous, and we know little and less of their movements and intentions. Things have been set in motion these past few days that I could not possibly have foreseen, and that I am still struggling to understand.”

Skylark swallowed. “Renault.”

Zhevalla nodded. “I was hoping your recent interrogation may lend us some much needed insight regarding the motive for his sudden reappearance.” She looked at Skylark hopefully.

Skylark recounted the vaticinal pegasus' words, detailing that Renault had, allegedly, severed all ties with High Command, forming his own splinter group for reasons unknown. She was careful to omit the ominous warning he had given, alarmed at the realization that it still filled her with unease. Was she still a filly, to believe in monsters in the night and tales of the end of the world?

When she had finished, Zhevalla began pacing, looking more troubled than ever before. “This is not welcome news, though I can hardly say I didn't expect as much. I had a hope, or rather a desperate prayer, that he may have been persuaded to take common cause with us. I was prepared for the opportunity, and I was prepared to fight him if need be. What I wasn't prepared for was yet another unknown. I pray that what you say is true, and that Renault no longer serves Discord. If we were forced to contend with both him and High Command...” She spread her hooves helplessly.

Skylark was incredulous. “You knew? You knew he had returned?”

Zhevalla looked at her sharply. “I suspected, and there is a world of difference. I knew nothing until three days ago, when he showed his face in the market. And he did something else I did not expect: he fled, and by all reports, with that young earth pony mare and her two friends in his grasp. Swan Song was right, I should have had them tailed immediately, but in the confusion they slipped away while our attention was focused elsewhere. Now we are two steps behind, and no closer to finding him or any answers.”

This was too much for Skylark. “So that was what all this was about?” Her wings were aquiver in agitation. “You exposed us, the Coalition, at the behest of a unicorn, for the chance at capturing Renault and for some misconstrued sense of responsibility toward a couple of no-name ponies?”

Zhevalla was struggling to keep the frustration out of her voice. “It was a gambit, I'll admit, and one I did not consider lightly. The young ponies, whoever they are and for whatever possible reason, are important to Renault. You of anyone should know that that is more than reason enough that they be important to us, as well.” She picked up one of the heavy ledgers and threw it down with a thud before Skylark. She pointed with a hoof to the sigil emblazoned upon it: a horseshoe with a horn through its center pointing to the heavens, adjoined by two feathered wings. “Have you forgotten why we formed this Coalition in the first place? To fight for “no-name” ponies such as these—hooves, wings, and horns alike. Even a unicorn such as Swan Song has cause to fight for the betterment of others.”

Skylark was inconsolable. “I do not trust Swan Song! Or any of his ilk!” The unicorns had joined with the alliance later than the others, and even now they were few in number. Mistrust of their magic and of their motives ran deep within many a pegasus and earth pony. I hate them, I hate them all! The horns and their magic! I... I just... I just wanted...

“I do not care whether you trust him or not,” Zhevalla said, her anger flaring. “I trust him, and as your commander, you will do as I say, and I command you to cease with this bitter, petty foolishness at once!”

Skylark looked at Zhevalla with her head held high in defiance, her visage iron. “As you say, ma'am,” she relented at last.

“I want an end to this. Immediately,” the fiery pony declared. “Now, if there is nothing else, please take me to see this prisoner of ours. I would question him myself, and see if we cannot glean any wisdom which may help to lead us to Renault.”

Skylark looked at the ground, shuffling her hooves awkwardly.

Zhevalla's eyes blazed at her. “He's dead, isn't he.”

“In a manner of speaking...”

Zhevalla slammed her front hooves on the table, sending parchment raining through the chamber in all directions. The torches in the walls seemed to pulse and shimmer in recognition of her fury. “Damn you, Skylark! Are you so intent upon your rancor that you have let it blind you?! How far down this path are you going to let this war take you?” In her anger, Zhevalla was intimidating, daunting, and frightening. One had only to glimpse her in her fury to know there was good cause some ponies believed she was made of living flame. “The more thoughtless acts of violence you commit, the more you let your vengeful zealotry dictate your actions, the less of a difference there is between yourself and those we profess to fight against! I have seen where that road leads, and I will not let my friend be swept down it!” She towered over Skylark, nostrils flaring and eyes burning as they glared at the young pegasus.

Skylark opened her mouth to defy her, wings raised... and then shrank back suddenly, all of the ferocious resolve blown out of her. She fell to the ground, shaking. “I... I... forgive me, Zhevalla. I have not been myself... I've been so, so... scared. I do not know what is happening to me...” She struggled against the tears that threatened. If only you knew...

And just as quickly as it had raged, the fire subsided. Zhevalla sighed, looking concernedly at her companion. She moved to her and embraced her. “No, young one, it is okay... forgive me for my anger. These recent months have been difficult, and everyone is afraid.” She helped Skylark to her hooves. “I would not have named you my second in command if I did not trust and value your insight and feelings, whatever they may be.” She nudged Skylark toward the table once more, gathering up some reports that had been displaced. She showed them to the pegasus. “As I said, the young ponies that Renault captured are important, for some reason or another. That is what Swan Song and I were discussing when you entered. He is going to try and find them, and with any luck, he will find Renault as well. But there are matters much more grievous that must be dealt with, and soon. You know as well as I do that we are in a very precarious situation. Should High Command decide to attack us, there is little we can do to stop them. We may hold them back for a time, but in the end...” She turned to Skylark, all seriousness once again. “We need help, Skylark. We need reinforcements if we're to have any hope of leading this rebellion anywhere but to our graves. And that task I leave to you.” She threw wide a map, pointing with her hoof. “Travel to the far outer provinces, to other cities, anywhere where Discord's rule may not be absolute. Find ponies to help us, and those who can continue the fight on their own front.” Zhevalla sat back on her haunches and looked into Skylark's eyes, and Skylark saw for the first time how tired she was, the exhaustion that she had kept hidden from so many for so long now clear upon her face. Skylark placed a hoof upon her shoulder.

Zhevalla smiled wearily at her. “Do you trust me, Skylark? Not as a commander, but as a true friend?”

“You know I do, Zhevalla,” Skylark answered.

“Then hear me, now. War is coming. It will find us both sooner than we'd like. What you have to understand is that this rebellion, this... Coalition, will only succeed if all ponies work together and trust one another. And it must succeed.” Her voice was strained, barely above a whisper, as if she were afraid to speak the words she knew she must. “Equestria will never stand another chance at freedom, Discord would see to that. We are the last, Skylark. There will be no others. And if we should fail...”

Yes, Skylark thought, remembering the mocking smile of the pegasus whose words had chilled her. We will know no difference between a tyrant and a god.