Caballeron

Exarath, the Thrice-born, the Immortal, Night-bringer, Demon-binder, Dream-walker, Lord of Ashes, Lord of Dust, the Winter King. Those were the names that the demons had hailed this entity by. And now, here he was; the clouds above became so thick that night truly had been brought.

Immediately, the booms of cannonfire sounded from the ridge, but their shells exploded as if they had hit an invisible wall just in front of the Horn's true master. Already, the artillery crews were fumbling with new shells and new charges, while ejecting the spent ones.

“Kill it!” yelled Timar, brandishing the Horn. “Bring it down!”

The icy chill in the air was so deep that Caballeron could hardly move; he and Coco both shook. The poor girl probably couldn’t have moved anyway, her leg was so badly wounded. Timar's dead did nothing to help him except stare at the new arrival. His soldiers tried to shoot their crossbows, but something strange happened: the bolts did not reflect off some unseen force like the shells, but slowed until they harmlessly bounced on the shadowy form of the Winter King.

“It's shielded, you idiots, get in there and destroy it!” Timar wrenched a partisan from one of his soldiers, and held waved it about

Then, the stormy portal cracked and flashed again, and the Demon-binder was joined by his demons. They filed out two by two, and surrounded their lord. Whatever timid advance the rattish soldiers had begun completely stopped as they beheld the terrible host:

The demons were just as the saga described, horrible mockeries of life, scrounged together parts of half a dozen creatures, fused and welded together by foul magic. Many wore the skulls of stags, antelope, rams, and other horned beasts; many wore the hands of griffons or dogs; they walked on feet and hooves and claws of birds. Their eyes burnt with the same fire as the dead, and a kindred light dwelt in their bodies, revealed by fissures and holes in their rotten and decaying shells. Some wore rust-corroded and ill-fitting armor, others filthy and ancient clothes of which the likes Caballeron had never seen. They weilded dark blades, and were raised in a silent challenge as they stalked towards the rats. Just like the saga...

“Madness!” Grimsly whispered again; Caballeron had nearly forgotten he was there.

“Sergeant, help me with Coco, we need to get to the trucks!” he shouted. Grimsly hauled Coco to her hooves, and started to help her to safety.

The Winter King's host had met with Timar's soldiers. Above on the ridge, the cannons fired as fast as they could. Those demons that were hit merely lost their wretched outer forms. Beneath the burnt-away decayed flesh and bone was something shadowy, twisting and shimmering, caging in a blazing light that threatened to break from its cage at any moment. They were not stopped; they rolled right over the rats, and the slaughter began.

“You!” Timar screamed, pointing at Caballeron. “This was your plan, was it? To summon these monsters and kill us all?”

“You should take a lesson from Daring Do, Timar: read the book yourself!” The chaos unfolding around them forgotten; it was him and the rat now. “If you had listened, none of this would be happening!”

“You've doomed my nation! Everything we've fought for, everything we've gone through, it's been for nothing now!” Timar held his partisan in one hand, Horn in the other, and walked forward.

“Hivald will fall!” Caballeron laughed. If he died here today, at least he would die doing what he did best: antagonizing his enemies. “And good riddance! Thus to all tyrants, you filthy vermin!”

The rat jumped at him, jabbing with the partisan. Caballeron flung himself away, and scrambled back onto his hooves. Over and over, Timar blindly stabbed at him, only to miss. Even the world was set against him now; every force of random chance acted in Caballeron's favor, each opportunity Timar had to kill him was missed. A loose rock, a slippery patch of spreading ice, a stray cannon shell; everything conspired in the stallion's favor. Caballeron couldn't help but grin as he realized the source of his fortune: the Horn wanted him alive. Just as it had brought him here, just as it had given them those dreams, it was working its will on the world now too.

“Die! Die!” raged the rat, nearly frothing at the mouth. “Why won't you die!” Timar swung his weapon and Caballeron stumbled back over a fallen body. One of the demons had been blown apart by the artillery; its blade lay on the frosty desert ground. The sign was clear.

Caballeron snatched up the dark blade in his mouth, and an electrifying shiver ran through him. He brandished it wildly at Timar, taking the rat by surprise. Partisan and unearthly sword clashed, just another fight in the battle between the host and the army. Every hit and parry jarred his whole body; no pony was meant to fight like this. But he was not a unicorn, he was not a pegasus, this was his only option. Finally, he could take no more, and Timar's partisan threw the blade from his grip.

“It's over!” breathed Timar, a frenzied look in his eyes. He did not see what approached.

“Yes, it is.” smiled Caballeron, looking over his shoulder. Timar whipped around, but it was too late. The Winter King loomed above him, and a long, taloned, and leathery hand clamped down on Timar's head. He lifted the rat high, and seized the Horn. And then, Timar burned. The dark fire consumed him in seconds, and the cold only grew deeper.

Now, the Winter King turned to Caballeron. There was no telling what lurked under the swirling shadows and icy vapors, but it was looking at him.

“Yes!” he said. “I took your Horn! Timar, the rat you killed, and I, we took it from where the griffons hid it!” Ever so slightly, the Winter King leaned down, as if listening more closely. “But when I learned what it was, I wanted no part with it! It was me who got him to use it, I knew you would sense it from wherever you came from, and I knew you would come for what is yours. Take it!”

I already have. The voice was not spoken aloud, but into his mind. It was slow, deep, ragged and raspy with age, but there was a power in it, whose depth was only hinted at. You brought me what was mine. She gave her blood. I will not take your lives. The Winter King raised a hand, and pointed at Coco, who Grimsly had taken halfway back to the trucks. A beam of golden light flashed from him to her. Go now, if you can. Tell your master what you have seen here.

With that, the figure turned away, and calmly moved back to the raging portal. That was the last Caballeron saw of the Horn of the Damned. He shakily stood, and galloped to Coco and Grimsly. “What happened?” Grimsly yelled.

“Get to the truck!” Caballeron ordered, looking back at the chaos, just in time to see the Winter King raise his hand again. This time, he shot arcs of violet lightning, leaping at every rat on the ridge and detonating the shells in the cannons. The rats the demons hadn't killed were fleeing, but they too were killed by the lightning.

Grimsly and Coco reached the truck, Caballeron right behind them. The marineshauled all three into the bed. A third torrent of energy was released by the Winter King, but this kind did not destroy. One by one, the trucks of the convoy were yanked from their positions, and rolled on their own to the portal, where they disappeared into the storm of light.

Every dead body, every weapon, every scrap of cloth and shard of metal, was pulled back through the portal; the bone-monsters that the Horn raised shambled in; followed by the demons, and their master last of all. The Winter King gave one last glance to the ponies, and then he too vanished.

Again, an icy column of fire shot up into the sky, shining stronger and stronger, before the entire portal collapsed in on itself into a single point. A great blast sounded once more, shaking the world. Thunder echoed for many moments after, as the day grew brighter and left whatever strange dark that had beset it.

Besides the lone truck, the rats from Sable, and two ponies, not a sign remained that anything had ever happened here. They made their way back down the desert road, to the port and civilization. What terrible and great powers that lurked in the far corners of the world weighed heavily on all their minds. Tell your master what you have seen here… the Winter King had said.

"Caballeron..." whispered Coco, voice trembling. "He healed my leg."

"What?" But true enough, the gash Timar had left was gone, like it had never been there. "How? Why?"

"I don't know." she said, leaning against him. "But he said something, before he went back to wherever he came from." Coco paused for a moment, looking with concern at her lack of wound. "Life for life, blood for blood..."

The truck drove on.

Author's Note

Not really, but only the epilogue left now. It'll be up next week, because I'll be gone all weekend. Yeah, I said it'd be done this week, but I forgot about the trip...