Lost Souls

It was the rot that she noticed first – the sickening stench of death and decay rising above the sting of a salty breeze. It surrounded her as she stepped off the gangway. Behind her, the small cutter rose and fell with the rhythm of the waves. Farther off in the distance was the ship she had come in on, preparing to weigh anchor.

The path down from the pier was overgrown with weeds, breaking the cobblestone that once lined it. The arch that led to the port city of Ponymouth was crumbling and mossy. The stench was heavier from the city.

One greyish ear twitched, sending a few strands of blond mane fluttering. She could hear something coming from within the city. It sounded like grunting, or moaning. It was too faint to make out.

Cloudkicker took a few steps forward, bracing for anything. One wing brushed the hilt of the gladius that hung from her saddlebag strap. She’d bought the gladius in the land of Gryph after encountering a caravan of griffons. The wilds of that land had many foul beasts, and the gladius had been her constant companion since.

Passing through the stone archway before her, she came across the harbour’s courtyard. She remembered it had always been bustling – tradesmares peddling their wares, sailors going to and fro, soldiers checking cargo… Now it was empty, except for the burnt wreckage of a caravan.

Cloudkicker decided to investigate. The caravan appeared to be of zebra origin. Tattered banners bearing a flank sigil still flapped in the wind. Digging through the largest wagon, Cloudkicker found only charred beads and broken tools inside.

Sighing, she jumped out of the wagon. A sharp pain cut through her right forehoof, causing her to jump up and down with a grimace. Looking down, she saw a crystal, bound in leather with a hook probably made for attaching to belts. It was a great chunk, dirty white with streaks of dirtier blue spiraling in towards its centre. She had stepped on a particularly sharp part of the crystal, and could see her own blood sinking into the crystal.

Like the crystal is drinking it. The thought ran through Cloudkicker’s mind errantly, and she shook it off.

Doing a bit of acrobatics, she examined her hoof. The cut was shallow, hardly worth thinking about. Still, she wrapped cloth around it. No sense in getting sick if something evil was in the air – which it certainly smelled like.

Cloudkicker almost left the wreckage but she paused, looking back down at the crystal. She wanted, no, needed the crystal. Picking it up in her mouth, she hooked it to her saddlebag strap. It hung there, flopping about as she moved. It comforted her, in a strange way. She couldn’t put her hoof on why; it just did.

She sniffed the air again. The stench was stronger. In fact, it smelled as though whatever produced it was near. Taking a few steps forward, she began to follow the smell. It led her through some winding sidestreets, until she saw him.

The pony was kneeling in the centre of the courtyard before a dried up fountain. In the fountain’s middle was a tall, inverted cross. High up on it was a wheel with six spokes. Adorning the wheel were twisting designs that hurt the eye, and some kind of face. The face was the hardest to gaze upon. It seemed to be have horns made from branches, and it bore a disgusting cut of a mouth below three slitted eyes.

Looking away from the devilish idol, she examined the earth pony prostrate before it. He was gaunt and a pale brown colour. A low moan escaped his lips as she watched him.

She took a step forward and tripped over an overturned stone. Her leg banged against hard cobblestone. The pony must have heard the sound, as he rose and turned towards her. Lunging forward, he produced a longsword from seemingly out of nowhere.

Cloudkicker flipped the gladius out of its sheath, catching it in her mouth. Hilt-first for once. Swinging the sword up, she caught the madpony’s blade, parrying it expertly. With the other pony off-balance, she plunged her sword into his chest. He staggered backwards allowing her to withdraw the now bloody blade before collapsing to the ground.

A white shimmer surrounded his body, and she felt a bit of extra warmth creep into her. She shivered despite it. There was something about the warmth that was disconcerting and a little nauseating. It felt like she had taken something that didn’t belong to her. And yet, it was enticing, making her want to feel it again.

Cloudkicker broke out of her reverie, noticing the dead pony’s blood. It was draining into the altar. Curious, she smashed the altar. Beneath it was a hole large enough for a pony to squeeze through. In fact, it looked like several already had.

Maybe this is where the townsfolk ran off to, she thought.

She wriggled her way through the hole. At one point she became stuck, forcing her to detach the saddlebags. They splashed in the water below, followed by Cloudkicker. She picked up the bags, carefully shaking as much water out as she could. After returning them to her side, she looked around.

The crystal was glowing, Cloudkicker noticed, and it gave off enough light to illuminate the sewer for her, though not by much. A few feet are better than none, she reflected.

The stench was almost unbearable now. Still she continued on, splashing through the sewer.

A growl echoed from farther ahead. Cloudkicker froze for a moment, heart skipping a beat. Then she took another step forward. All her time in the wilds of Gryph had prepared her for anything.

But not for this. Out of the darkness lunged a fat, giant monster. She could hardly believe it fit down here.

It was easily three times her size, bulbous head rubbing against the ceiling. The head was full of beady red eyes, each glowing with an internal fire. Its two arms ended in a wriggling mass of stumpy tentacles. One such mass held a rusty flail in a strong grip. Its scaly skin was a dark, muddied green.

The demon swung the flail at her, knocking out pieces of the ceiling as it did so. Cloudkicker flew up into the air to avoid the falling rubble. Taking her sword out again, she flew into position for a plunging attack on its head. She drove the sword down, missing most of its head. It still left a great gouge in the creature’s head and belly.

Bleeding profusely and now somewhat blinded, the demon jumped up, breaking more of the ceiling. It came down hard, knocking Cloudkicker off-balance. While she was unbalanced, the demon struck again with the flail. This time it struck her, sending her tumbling into the wall.

She could taste blood in her mouth as she struggled to stand, armour shattered where it struck her–

The demon brought the flail down again–

Then all was darkness. For her, at least.

The demon left its snack where it laid, intending to come back to it later. So it did not notice the glowing crystal at the pony’s side. Nor did it see the pony slowly disappear, the glow of the crystal the final thing that vanished.