The Ruins of Pandemonia

Fluttershy was on the ground the second the first emerald flew past her, managing to singe a strand of pink hair that was a bit too slow. She rolled on her back to see if there was anything behind her, only to find an open door. She turned to see what was behind her and saw Iron Cross already on his feet.

“Ma’am!” he yelled, before a flash of viridescent smashed against his chest and sent him flying against the other side. He crashed against the wall, cracking the polished stone. Fluttershy rushed toward his shield, immediately letting her instincts take control and stopping another bolt. The force was enough to produce a loud crack from her left arm, and send waves of excruciating pain across her body. She fell to the floor, letting the shield drop as she clutched her broken arm. She couldn’t help but scream in pain, letting each gasp release as much energy as possible. Her eyes met with Iron’s. The soldier was already on his feet, both hands clutching the bastard sword.

“Fight me witch!” he roared in anger, letting his ire echo through the wasteland. “I am the one you want!” Fluttershy turned to see who he was addressing, and saw an effeminate figure riding what seemed to be a whirlwind. He grabbed his shield and slammed it on his back, gripping his steel with both hands. “I was made to fight monsters like you!”

While the soldier taunted his enemy, Night blade approached the wounded woman. He stretched a cold hand, which she met gladly, and pulled her up. “My Lady, you must flee to the tower.” he said, sounding worried, despite his hollow voice. “I will join your guard while you and Fenrir escape to the tower. Do not flee into the city, but stay there. Hopefully we will be able to destroy this-” a bolt of lightning struck his helm, sending me reeling back. The next bolt crashed against a midnight barrier.

He stretched his hand, sending a quiver of ultramarine arrows back to the target. Fluttershy grabbed the backpack and ran to the door. Fenrir was behind her, occasionally jerking as he ran.

The door leading to her safety was about her size, and fortunately ajar. She rushed inside, quickly scanning to see if there was anything she could use.

Aside from a few desks and chests, the round looked barren when painted by the pale light from the window slits. She began rummaging through the chests, hoping that she could find something to use as a sling for her broken arm. She managed to find a large piece of cloth under a mountain of parchment rolls and wax. After a few minutes of straining effort, she managed to get the knot ready for use.

She began looking around, hoping that she’d taken one of Iron’s magic canteens to ease her pain. With a heavy sigh, she trudged to the nearest chair. Her arm still hurt like hell at the touch, as if her bones were nothing more than splinters. Wincing, she prodded her arm. If her bones were anything similar to that of any of the animals she knew, then she was confident her arm had at least three simple fractures at the best of times. Worst case scenario, she had two comminuted fractures. Either way, it was not something that could heal quickly.

She began rummaging through the other chests, hoping that she’d be able to find some sort of sheath for her dagger. After digging through several scrolls, she found a knife about the same size, although its form was more akin to that hunting knife Rainbow Dash got last summer. She quickly dumped it on the ground. As the blade clanged on the ground, she worked on tying the blade across her waist.

Once that particular task was done, she got back on her feet. She went up a flight of stairs, keeping the dagger ready in case there was something preparing to pounce. A bright flash caused her to turn and look through the window. A small gasp was all she could manage as the battle raged below.

.oOo.

Iron Cross spat a mouthful of blood as he stepped back from a barrage of lightning. So far the fight was not looking good. He was still on his feet, but he knew the barrage had to stop at some point. If it didn’t, he might as well kill himself. One of his healing canteens was almost empty, and so far he’s been unable to make even a dent on this witch’s barrier.

He wasn’t the only one feeling despair. Night Blade’s moves were beginning to be more erratic, and he seemed to be focusing more on using arrows rather than swings. And who could blame them? The witch was doing her best to stay airborne. Nothing could knock her down.

The titanic knight jumped off the wall, yelling as he stabbed the twister that served to keep their enemy in the air. With a paralyzing screech, she fell to the ground. As he looked down, he was shocked to see that the witch had grown in size.

Before she looked to be short by human standards, but now she seemed to be almost at the same height as Night Blade. With a clap, she summoned a large brass staff holding a large black opal in an iron basket. She slammed her weapon on the ground, setting the stone ablaze with a myriad of colors.

“Learn mortals, the power of Chaos!” she cried as she swung forward, her cackles booming across the wastes. Abysmal ooze bled from the opal, landing on the ground and contorting into a macabre interpretation of the human form.

Night Blade swung his sword, cutting through the sludge as if it were butter. The monsters cried in pain and returned to blobs. “Know this heretic: You stand against the Commander of the Lunar Guard. I have fought abominations much stronger, and so long as I have-” he stopped as a bolt punched against his shield. With a snarl, he fired a large quarrel at her.

The bolt crashed against several tentacles, all emanating from the ooze on the ground. “I know you are not  dissuaded by my powers.” the witch cackled. “But the question is if he will be able to resist it.” And she fired a large blob at the wall.

Iron needed no coaxing to get as far away of the eldritch mass as possible. He ran, his brain beginning to snap as the abysmal sludge contorted into the form of a large beast. He swallowed hard as he stared at the hollowed rubies that were its eyes were beginning to form. His body wanted to turn tail and flee, but he knew that he was the only thing standing between this monster and Fluttershy.

He quickly dug his fingers through his uniform to clutch a small iron amulet pressed against his chest. He rushed to unclasp it and stared. It was a small sword made of cheap iron. Most would discard its power, but he knew better. Kneeling down, he began to tie the amulet across his right hand. The screen on his wrists blared alarms, demanding that the user use a dose of Med-X. He began to whisper a soldier’s litany:

“The cries of the meek fuel my rage

The blood of the Fallen heals my wounds

The laughter of His children eases my soul

For there is no greater sacrifice than my own,

And through my faith I shall prevail.”

As the words left his mouth, he could feel his gut warm up. He stood up and gripped his sword, chanting as he prepared to face his end.

“I am His Blade, I am Her Shield

Each breath must serve, each thought must guard

For I am a servant of the Great Lord Areion

And death does not scare me!”

He roared the last words, releasing his newfound rage on the taurine beast in front of him. The creature was darker than the night, with hair bristling with the arctic light of Pandemonia. Its brutish hands held some sort of axe. The eldritch beast snarled, releasing gusts of boiling air with each heave. Its hooved legs cracked the floor with each step, and its horns with the pale light.

“Areion, guide my steel!” Iron Cross cried as he charged, using every bit of his limited magic to ignite his blade. The monster slammed its weapon, sending a shockwave of stone and dust at the soldier.

The force of the blast pushed Iron back as if he were made of paper, showering him with shards of the floor. He nursed a gash on the cheek, cursing as the monster approached. He charged again, letting his instincts take control of his body. The taurine beast swung its axe, aiming at Iron’s diminutive figure. The mallet fell, whistling the doom of the soldier as it hit the ground. Iron rolled away just in time, letting the gust carry him off out of harm’s way. He charged, this time yelling incoherently as his rage mounted.

The taurine beast turned its head and swept the floor, hitting Iron’s ribs. The soldier could feel the strength of ten ogres crumpling the steel and digging into his flesh. Fortunately for him, it seemed the axe was not sharp. If it had been, his two halves would have been cleanly separated. His body slammed against a pillar, cracking the other set of ribs.

Iron fell on the ground, writhing in pain as his body protested at the beating. His hand reached for the healing flask and uncapped the top. He took a small sip, knowing well that he’d need the magical water for the future. As the miraculous nectar passed through his throat, he could feel as his bones knit together. Soon the pain was gone, leaving ample room for the flame in his gut.

His attack managed to connect, letting his shining blade pierce through the thick ooze. The monster bellowed as it removed its harmed arm from danger, letting dark red ichor drip from the wound. With its other arm, it fired a fist.

Iron pulled out his shield and dropped to one knee, his mind solely on stopping the attack. He succeeded, forcing the minotaur back as it recovered. The beast bellowed in rage, revealing a raging furnace on its mouth. It stood on its legs and spit a ball of fire. Iron simply stretched his arm forward. The flames parted in front of him, pressing hard against his mental barrier.

He lifted his sword, preparing for an overhead attack. The monster jumped, swinging its axe as it bellowed in rage. Iron rushed through, rolling under the gargantuan ooze in an effort to dodge the attack entirely. The floor began buckling under the weight of the eldritch hooves. With a slash of the bastard sword, Iron managed to sever its scaled tail.

The monster roared, jumping with unnatural agility and sweeping the ground. The swing drove him against a wall, returning his body to a crippled state. He groaned, letting his eyes stare at a small slit in the watchtower. He could feel the eyes of the innocent Fluttershy watching him. He turned around, hoping that somehow his effort had been worth something. He grabbed the canteen and drained the last drops of Kvasir’s water.

He stared at the beast as it swallowed the air, trying his best to hide his thoughts. Deep down he knew he was dead, his body was not going to handle this much punishment. Kvasir’s healing water was a finite resource, and it wasn’t as miraculous as it first seemed. He began praying, doing his best to recite the litanies.

He charged one final time, doing his best ignore the monster that was preparing to roast him with its eldritch flames. He kept running, raising his sword and  mentalizing himself to jump as high as possible. He focused what little magic was left to gaze a few seconds into the future. He managed to jump over the sweeping axe, but he never managed to see the arm reach out to him.

.oOo.

Fluttershy could see Iron fighting tooth and nail for his life. She could see glimpses of Night Blade fending off a myriad of magical strikes, doing his best to hold back the witch. And all this dumb veterinarian could do is sit back and watch. A small part of her began gnawing at her conscience. Was she going to sit back as others died protecting her? Or would she do something?

Then came another question: what could she do? She didn’t have neither Applejack’s strength nor Rainbow’s bravado to join the fight. She didn’t have either Rarity’s or Twilight’s magic to heal or even support, and she didn’t have Pinkie’s agility to at least do something. Even Spike could use his flames to fight back. But her? She had nothing but a broken arm and a love for animals. A useless skill.

She began rummaging through the crates to see if there was something that she could use to help out. She found knives, maps, and even an occasional letter, but nothing that could help out. Then she turned to one of the larger locks. Kvasir’s dagger was enough to split the iron lock in half, giving her a chance to gaze at the loot.

To her surprise she found an ebony longbow, beautifully decorated by silver linings and an oval-shaped piece of pink gems on each side. She grabbed the weapon, feeling her hands cool at the touch of the wood. To her surprise, the bow was lighter than she’d expect, almost feeling weightless. The second thing that caught her eye was the warm hum that it produced. The box held three dozen arrows, all of them held inside a beautiful white burlap quiver tied by a brown belt. She grabbed the bow and thought about the window. If she could lock the bow somehow, she could fire at the new sludge-monster.

She worked her hand to get the weapon stuck in between protruding rocks. Once she was satisfied with her work, she grabbed the first knife and thrust it against the glass pane. The iron broke with a shrill, cracking the thick window. A shard cut through her arm, leaving a thin red line across her arm. She winced in pain, steeling herself to grab another one to stab the window.

As the glass shattered against her arm, a faint hope blossomed in her soul. Without the window, she now had a clear shot at the eldritch bull haunting Iron. She pulled out an arrow and set it on the string. She began pulling back, wishing that her arm was well enough to avoid this ridiculous scenario.

Holding her breath, she let the arrow fly. It whistled through the air as it approached the taurine monster. The quarrel crashed against the mouth of the beast and exploding in pink flames. She sighed in relief as the creature dropped Iron from its clutches. She grabbed another arrow and pulled back the string. This time, the arrow exploded on its left shoulder. The pink explosion tore through the ooze, separating the entire limb from its target.

She let out a victorious squeal. It was hard to contain her excitement as the sludge contracted back into the abyss. She knocked another arrow and hit the beast right between the eyes. The beast roared in pain as it slowly melted away. She could see Iron coughing for air. She slung the bow on her back and tied the quiver on her hip, rushing down in hopes of reaching Iron in time.

Up close Iron seemed in worse condition than before, with his armor looking more like crumpled paper than before. His silver hair was now caked with dirt and blood, and a large gash decorating the right side of his face. She shook the body, letting Iron groan loudly in protest.

She reached out to his belt and grabbed the closest canteen, and swore when she found it empty. She grabbed the next one and uncapped it. She neared the flask to her lips, but stopped. Her hand froze, protesting against the healing water. She decided to pour a small stream on his mouth, hoping that the power wouldn’t die now. Iron choked violently, making it look like his throat was protesting at liquid coursed down to his stomach.

He sat up in alarm, gasping for air. “What just happened?” he asked.

“You were out for a few-”

“I was supposed to be dead! How.. Who…” he stared at her eyes, then at her chest, then her bow. “You killed it?” She smiled and nodded. His face turned to surprise. He mouthed something to himself, then stood up. “Get back to the tower. “ he ordered as he pointed his right arm. “I’ll help Night get rid of that-”

An emerald bolt shot past them, followed by Night Blade. The titanic knight looked scorched from helmet to boots. His left arm dangled lifelessly, sporting a charred gash across the shoulder. Iron handed Fluttershy the canteen of magic water and let his eyes repeat his order.

Fluttershy rushed back to the tower, leaving the two soldiers to fend off a witch.