The Underwatch

by thatguyvex

Rating: teen
Tags: Alternate Universe, Coco Pommel, Gore, Original Character, Trixie, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Other, Adventure
Length: 56979

Trixie, Coco, and Blossomforth's adventures in the Legion continue, now as members of the special unit the 'Underwatch' whose goal is to investigate and battle the deadly underground threat of the Lurkers.

Having survived their trail by fire as drafted soldiers of the Legion, Trixie, Blossomforth, and Coco Pommel have been assigned to a newly formed unit called the Underwatch. Its purpose; to investigate and counter the newly discovered threat of a race of giant underground dwelling spiders referred to in Legion folklore as the Lurkers. Now part of a patchwork unit made up of various Legionnaires from all across the Barrier Lands, Trixie and her friends must contend with the extreme personalities of their comrades as much as the danger they'll be facing in investigating the machinations of their arachnid adversaries.

This is a sequel story to Legionnaires of Equestria, and is based upon the Upheaval series by Visiden Visidane.

Published 2016-07-21 03:20:01 UTC
Last updated 2017-06-19 00:12:12 UTC

Prologue: The Shard in the Forest

Prologue: The Shard in the Forest

The filly knew to avoid the edge of the deep forest to the west of her family’s mill. Victor’s Cliff was a decent sized village, far from the border between the Western Barrier Lands and the ursan territories, but for all of Autumn Chill’s thirteen years of life she’d been told time and again by both parents and her other elders that the west forest was to be skirted. Stories and old tales abounded of the thick wall of tall, thick pines that stood like a dark fort atop a sharp ridge on the western edge of the valley Victor’s Cliff rested within. The town’s namesake was the even steeper cliff on the valley’s opposite side, where the town’s legends claimed a great battle against the ursans was once fought, countless generations ago.

As for the forest, the tales were always vague and somewhat silly sounding to Autumn’s ears. Ghosts and shadows that’s snatch unwary foals or anypony else foolish enough to wander too deep within the foreboding cluster of pines. The young unicorn filly was just getting old enough to think such old stories weren’t frightening and instead just a way adults liked to make themselves feel bigger than the foals still willing to believe the stories.

So today, with her chores done and the afternoon still young, Autumn had gone for a bracing trot to clear her mind, and had found herself wandering closer and closer to the wall of pines to the west. Grunting slightly, her mahogany fur getting a tad beaded with sweat, the unicorn had climbed the hill towards the forest edge. Her long black and braided mane and tail shifted in a stiff wind as she finally reached the top and she paused to enjoy the cooling off the breeze gave her. However her relief gave way to unease as her jewel blue eyes gazed at the deep depths of the forest before her. Each pine tree had its trunk so thick and close to its brethren it was like an impenetrable phalanx, yet Autumn Chill knew this was just an illusion, and there was plenty of space for a pony to walk between the trees... yet her sight couldn’t seem to penetrate deep into the forest, as if the trees were swallowed by a murky shadow that blotted out the afternoon sunlight.

Autumn shuddered. She knew it was silly. Utterly silly and foalish. Yet she felt as if she was being watched, a icy drip along the length of her spine that told her to turn around and trot away... gallop, even.

“There’s nothing in there,” she told herself, her wispy voice not much comfort to her own ears, “It’s just a forest.”

Youthful courage quashed down instinctual fear and Autumn took a few hesitant steps past the threshold of trees. Pausing, she waited, and when the trees remained merely trees and the shadows seemed a tad less dark, she took a deep breath and continued forward, deeper into the forest. She’d just explore for a little bit, and turn back. Just to be safe she used a soft glow of blue magic to levitate her belt knife, because nopony, filly or colt, went anywhere without at least a belt knife in the Western Barrier Lands,and she marked her path upon the trunks she passed.

The small, slightly curved iron blade had been a gift from a blacksmith’s son who’d started to give her eyes a few months ago, and Autumn couldn’t deny that Metal Cast wasn’t shaping into a decent seeming stallion, though he was still kind of silly as most colts tended to be. The knife was good and sharp, and made deep marks in the trunks as she went, and she felt her confidence growing with each step, her fear shrinking until it was just a tiny voice in the back of her mind that still told her she shouldn’t be here. She hadn’t even told any of her friends where she’d be going, the walk had just been a spontaneous thing.

After ten or so minutes all was dark around her as if in the final grasp of twilight. The thick boughs of the pine trees blotted out all by the smallest shreds of daylight’s rays, a few of which speared the gloom, but otherwise was all gray shadows. Autumn’s mind began to play tricks on her, or at least she hoped it was as she seemed to keep seeing patches of shadow move like the wafting swirls of thick fog. Sounds that didn’t seem like normal forest noises also made her ears twitch and flick, small shuffles of leaves or the breaking of a twig that had the unicorn filly snapping her head this way and that.

She was about to call her curiosity satisfied and turn back when one more step brought her to a unusual sight. Something was strung up across the trunks and pine branches like bed sheets, white as a ghost's visage. Autumn blinked, not sure what she was seeing at first, and with a burst of courage decided to channel some magical light into her horn, casting the area around her in a faded cobalt glow. Her eyes grew wider as she looked around her.

Webs. She’d wandered into a area of the forest that was choked thick with webs. The webbing didn’t look normal, like the canvas of webbing she’d seen from the common spiders that often nested within the attics and basements back in the village. The strands that made up these webs looked larger, more solid, and glimmered with a faint gossamer tint.

She nearly turned and bolted then and there, if not for something that caught Autumn’s attention. A glimmer in the deeper gloom, a glint of something the color of snow. Hesitantly she stepped deeper among the webs, ducking her head and shimmying to the side to avoid hanging webs. Now that she was looking more closely at everything she noticed many of the webs were tattered, torn, and hanging languid as if untouched for many years. To her left she saw a dome of webs, as if some kind of hut, which was half collapsed from a broken branch that had landed on it.

What was this place? Curiosity began to burn past fear and she continued to chase the faint white glow. When she found the source of it she halted in her tracks and just about turned to flee. There was a horrible creature laying on its back in a small clearing, and the only reason Autumn Chill didn’t flee was because she quickly realized the thing was dead. It looked like nothing more in the world than a giant spider; its bulbous body laying flat on its back as its eight spindly legs curled in on itself.

The white gleam was coming from an object in the center of the clearing, jutting up from the ground as if it had been impaled into the earth. There was a dip in the ground, almost like a small crater, though it was long overgrown with tall grass, suggesting that this object had been here for a very long time. It was a shard, or at least that was the closest Autumn Chill could come to describing it. Metallic white, and shining like silver, the shard was shaped like it’d been torn from something, its edge jagged. It was as tall as two full grown ponies standing atop each other, and Autumn got the impression it had more length wedged into the earth. The white glow was the result of a few beams of sunlight filtering in from above reflecting off the shard’s smooth surface.

Braving a few steps closer she first examined the dead spider. It was more than three times her size, and at first she couldn’t fathom how it had died. Its body was dusty and hollow, almost the skeleton of a carapace, suggesting it had been dead for a long time. It wasn’t until Autumn saw the wounds on the back of the thing’s head that she realized it’d been killed by a single strike by something large and piercing, perhaps a giant spear?

It was all too much, and she was about to go back the way she’d come, but something about the shard caught her eye. Glancing back at it, she peered at the metallic surface of the shard. She saw her reflection as clearly as if she were looking into the most polished of mirrors. Then, the shard almost seemed to ripple, and before she could question the thought that appeared in her head and whether or not it was really her own, she raised her hoof and touched the surface.

Her hoof sank into the metal as if it were water, and light filled Autumn Chill’s vision, brighter than the sun, yet edged with the dark of the deepest void.

Metal Cast, tired from a long day working master Redhot’s forge, wiped a generous amount of sweat from his brow and cracked his neck. The young colt was just fourteen summers old but already had the broad shoulders and thick muscles of his father, with the endurance to swing a hammer through the day without slowing. Granted all he could make were simple tools, but the ponies of Victor’s Cliff were simple folk, and Metal Cast was happy with his lot.

If he could find himself a good mare he might manage to marry in a few years and either take over his father’s forge, or, in his more ambitious dreams, he ventured to think of moving to one of the bigger cities to start up a forge for making fancy weapons or armor for the Legion or the nobility.

He even had his eye on a mare. Autumn Chill was one of the fillies he’d played with most of his young life, and she often gave as good as she got in those foalish wrestling matches or hoof races that the foals used to pass the time. He was just getting old enough to recognize the... charms of the opposite sex, and Autumn was pleasant to be around and she had a lovely mane dark as coal.

With his work for the day done he asked his father permission to have the evening to himself and Redhot waved him off, still busy forging some new pins for repairing the wagon of a local peddler. Metal Cast wasted no time in heading out into the quiet streets of Victor’s Cliff, intending to find his friends for a late afternoon trip to the river to swim. Perhaps Autumn would be there. He imagined what she’d look like, freshly drenched from a dunk in the river. The image pleased him and he picked up his steps, but paused when he saw a familiar figure wandering down a side road, leading to the path out west towards the forest.

“Autumn?” he asked, curious as usually Autumn Chill was an energetic filly, whose steps always had a bounce to them, but the Autumn he was looking at was walking as if drained of energy, a slow, languid step.

“Hey, Autumn!” he called, cantering towards her. He steps faltered as he saw her more closely, “Autumn? Are you...?”

He trailed off, unable to finish asking his question. Autumn Chill’s coat was waxen and slick with sweat, her mane and tail disheveled and caught with broken twigs. Her face was placid, devoid of the quick and lively smile Metal Cast had come to associate with Autumn. Worse than that were her eyes. They were staring, unblinking and glassy. There was barely a spark to indicate Autumn Chill was even alive in those dull eyes.

“What happened!? Autumn!?” Metal Cast put a hoof on her shoulder, to which she didn’t respond other than to just stop in her jerking sleep walk. Those dull, lifeless eyes of hers turned towards him, and Metal Cast suddenly felt a chill run down to his bones as he took an involuntary, fearful step backwards.

“...Autumn?”

The fillies eyes remained unblinking as she opened her mouth, wider than seemed natural, and she tore the air with a shriek that could be heard in every corner of Victor’s Cliff.

Chapter 1: Gathering Forces

Chapter 1: Gathering Forces

The last time Trixie Lulamoon had been on the streets of Canterlot she’d been fleeing for her freedom. In an attempt to escape from the Legion’s draft she’d given the Legionaries of the Barrier Lands a strong chase for days before she’d finally been cornered and captured. By the letter of the law that should have put her behind bars for a long time, but whether by chance or luck a Legionnaire Captain by the name of Windstriker had given Trixie a chance to avoid such a fate and change her mind about joining the Legion.

Trixie still wasn’t entirely certain if she’d made the right choice, but she had come to accept her current circumstances and even found some of her newfound comrades among the Legion tolerable. A lot of that had to do with the mare that trotted beside her, glancing around with a look on her face that suggested Coldiron didn’t know whether to be awed or put off by the fancy finery of the Canterlot streets around her.

Short and gray of fur, Coldiron was a Legion mare through and through. Born in the Western Barrier Lands the squat unicorn mare had the features of a hardened soldier, with a coarse and neatly cut brown mane and tail that as as military as the thin leather battlemage coat she wore. Trixie wore a similar coat, but it rather clashed with her own bright blue fur and relatively well groomed mane and tail of two toned periwinkle blues and white. Really no two mares could look more different while wearing the same Legion uniforms, though both sported the marks of their service. Coldiron’s sharp horn bore visible cracks along its short length, and Trixie’s face bore a ragged scar from the left side of her brow, down past her eye, and continued nearly to her chin. The scar had rendered her left eye milky white and nearly blind.

“I don’t understand this city,” Coldiron said, still looking left and right with an uneasy expression, “Is everything here specifically made to look so... gaudy?”

Trixie snorted, “You’re simply not used to places that were built without the intention of being used as bastions for war against giant, psychotic bears.”

Coldiron grunted and eyed an open air cafe where a number of ponies, young couples and members of the nobility in their finery were enjoying a brief brunch. There were even two Legion ponies there, apparently off duty and trying some of the local flavor, in both meanings of the term if the looks one of them exchanged with the flirtatious waitress was any indication. If anything the city’s mood seemed lighter than Trixie recalled it from several weeks ago. It seemed the local populace was getting used to its new Legion guests and the spirit of high living and fashion was gradually returning to Canterlot like a limb waking up from sleep.

“I guess its not too different from any of our own big cities,” said Coldiron, the cloud of a frown crossing her features, “Though we still construct buildings that don’t look like they’d fall over if you accidentally bumped them too hard. I don’t know how this place stays up on this mountain in the first place.”

“Having two alicorn Princesses involved in its construction probably has something to do with that,” said Trixie, then tilted her head curiously, “Does your Prince Terrato have some kind of super fortress of impregnable stone or something? Carved from a cliff, perhaps, complete with flame pits and lava moats?”

“The Prince is not one for ostentatious displays of power. Each fortress city has a place for him within it if he chooses to visit, but no, he does not have a personal fortress as you describe.”

Coldiron paused, looking thoughtful, “Though that black spire we saw upon the crest of this mountain certainly looked like something the Prince might use. Was that always there?”

“No,” said Trixie, heaving out a sigh, “It certainly wasn’t. Just one of many changes Trixie must now contend with. Where is this building we’re looking for again?”

“I don’t know. You’re the native, don’t you know where we’re going?” Coldiron asked, looking at Trixie incredulously.

“Trixie is... very bad with directions,” Trixie admitted with an embarrassed cough, “She thought you had written down the address.”

“I did! I just don’t know the streets,” said Coldiron defensively, eyes roving over the various street signs that dangled from posts at the intersections they passed, “i can’t make hide or hair of this city. Why don’t you know you’re way around your own hometown?”

“Trixie’s navigation prowess is based solely upon memorization of pertinent landmarks en route to her preferred destinations. Trixie was far too busy developing magical feats beyond the scope of pony imagination to study the streets of all Canterlot! Besides, Trixie spent much of her time traveling between Equestria’s many rustic towns to perform her stage act, so it is unreasonable to expect her to know her hometown as if she spent all of her time here!”

Coldiron let out a slow breath, “The last thing I need is for us to be late for reporting in. I hope Coco and the others made it in alright.”

“Trixie doubts they would have any trouble. Coco seemed familiar with Canterlot, despite being a Manehattan mare.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t go with them to that village. Blossomforth and Allie Way both seemed pretty eager to show you around,” said Coldiron with an open tone, not pressing, but clearly curious.

A brief shadow passed over Trixie’s face, but vanished just as quickly. “Ponyville is not a place Trixie intends to return to just yet. Trixie did not wish to cause any trouble for her comrade’s trip home, at any rate. We were only given two days of leave, and Trixie preferred to spend it here in Canterlot.”

Coldiron looked as if she wanted to ask more but seemed to think better of it and glanced away, “Well, I appreciate you staying behind to show me around this place, even if we seem to only be wandering in circles. I’ll admit that Doughnut Joe’s wasn’t half bad, for a place that only serves ludicrously fattening sweets.”

Trixie smirked slightly, “You could stand to gain a few pounds, Trixie thinks.”

“Don’t get cute. My horn might be cracked, but I still got enough power to freeze that pretty tail off.”

“Ha! Perhaps Trixie shall show you one day how Equestrians conduct magic duels,” Trixie said with a haughty laugh, but with a friendly glint in her eyes, one that Coldiron shared even as the Barrier Land’s mare gave Trixie a rueful look.

Their destination was Canterlot’s south-district fire response station, which had been partially re-purposed as a temporary headquarters for the Legion’s newest Special Task Force; the Underwatch. This newly formed unit existed for the sole purpose of countering the newly emerged threat of the Lurkers, a race of subterranean dwelling giant spiders. Unfortunately that was about all Trixie, or anypony else at this point knew.

Not long ago Trixie had found herself a raw, and rather unwilling, draftee into the Legion’s army, sent marching into the Western Barrier Lands with over a hundred fellow Equestrian draftees. What had been intended as a simple and low key posting to a supposedly small and out of the way outpost in order to let the Equestrians finish training and adjust to Legion life had instead turned into a deadly and desperate battle as the ursans, massive bear-like creatures that had been at war with the Legion for centuries in the west, had gathered a large horde to launch a new offensive. Trixie had gotten a painful baptism of blood and fire that had left her eye and face scarred, but her spirit unbroken despite watching many fellow ponies die in horrific ways. She still had nightmares of the fights that had transpired only a week or so ago; the ambush during the march where she’d seen ponies die for the first time, the dangerous mission to the town of Arrow Vale where she and her newly made friends among her fellow soldiers uncovered the Lurker threat, and the exhausting final battle at Beartrap Fortress where the ursan horde nearly overran the limited Legion force dug in there. They’d only won through by the skin of their teeth, the timely arrival of reinforcements, and perhaps in small part due to Trixie and her friends managing to injure the ursan Warlord.

Well, Trixie mostly just verbally abused the bear to distract him from murdering Coco Pommel, and had gotten her scar as a result, but Trixie would take a scar over being gutting alive, which was what would’ve happened if Allie Way hadn’t intervened.

Amid that battle the Lurkers had also attacked the fortress, another sign of their involvement with the ursans. Trixie didn’t believe in coincidences and was more than willing to believe that the spiders had something to do with the ursan horde amassing in the first place. As for what the Lurkers had been planning in Arrow Vale, stealing away the townsponies, Trixie could only shudder to think. Those creatures scarred her more than even the raging claws and fangs of the ursans, and she felt ashamed to admit that even if just to herself. Trixie wanted, more than anything, to become the great and potent magician that she’d always set out to be. Brave, confident, capable, and awe inspiring.

While she was proud to have done her part in the battle, she knew her contribution had been small compared to some. As had been her sacrifice. Bad vision in one eye and the loss of some of her good looks was chump change compared to what Blossomforth lost... or Coldiron.

Trixie wouldn’t have thought it to look at Coldiron now, who walked with confidence poise and solid determination that one wouldn’t have expected from a mare who had so recently lost her father. Trixie had been there to help Coldiron bury her father at their family farm, and had seen the mare’s tears then. Perhaps that had been enough, in Coldiron’s own way, to deal with the grief and move on.

She hadn’t liked Coldiron much at first. In fact she'd rather detested the mare upon first meeting, finding Coldiron's hardened attitude galling. Yet a slow growing respect had taken hold in Trixie for the other unicorn, one that she hoped was mutual. It was hard to shed blood alongside a pony and not start to feel a bond with them.

“What?” asked Coldiron, noticing Trixie starring, “Do I have something on my face?”

“Hm? Oh, no, nothing,” said Trixie, glancing away fast, hastily adding, “Trixie was thinking that it is strange how fast things can change. That’s all.”

“That so? I suppose you and the others have been through a lot recently, but I wouldn’t worry. You Chosen have proven to be good at adapting to changing circumstances,” Coldiron said, completely ignoring the implication that perhaps Coldiron had been changing as well.

Trixie shook her head, chuckling under her breath, earning a quick and annoyed look from Coldiron.

“I don't know what’s so funny. Well, no matter, this looks like it may be the place, finally,” Coldiron said as they turned a corner and found a building sitting at a V-shaped intersection of three streets. The building stood three stories tall, built from subdued alabaster stone, like much of Canterlot’s architecture. The central building had a small spire sprouting from its top and from the windows of that spire hung a Legion banner along with a flag of regimental markings and a specific symbol; that of a lantern in front of a pair of crossed spears.

“The symbol of the Underwatch,” Coldiron said, looking at the flag, “Definitely our temp headquarters. Let’s head on in, before we’re late.”

Coco Pommel nursed her nose with an ice pack and sat with a sulking stance on the bench in the main room of the Underwatch temporary headquarters. Next to her Blossomforth smiled with embarrassment as she gave her friend a comforting hoof on the shoulder, although the wingless pegasus looked like she was ready to bust out laughing.

Pacing with rapid, nervous steps, Allie Way kept looking between the doors to the street and Coco.

“Oooh, we are in so much trouble. What if they report what happened? What if we get thrown in the dungeon? Or whipped? Or worse!”

“Relax Allie,” said Blossomforth, “It was just a little scuffle, and if those stupid jerks reported it then we’d already be in the stockade or dungeon or whatever. Heck, chances are they were too embarrassed about getting their tails whooped by some ‘Chosen’ that they didn’t want to admit it to anypony.”

Coco sighed, heavily, “It was all my fault. I just... I just lost control when they... said those terrible things.”

Blossomforth’s hoof pounded her shoulder, causing Coco to wince. While her nose hurt the most, her shoulder was a bit bruised too. “Hey! No problem Coco! They were way outta line! Shooting off their mouths about all those poor ponies that died back at the fortress, acting like they knew anything about anything. They totally deserved our hooves up their tailpipes!”

Coco gave her friend a small, weak smile, appreciative of the support, but she still felt bad about it. They’d woken up early to catch the train from Ponyville to Canterlot, but just before departing they’d stopped off at Sugarcube Corner for some fast breakfast pastries to go. While they’d been there a pair of Legion ponies had entered the establishment, part of the contingent assigned to Ponyville as a light garrison.

The Legionnaires had been... less than pleasant towards what they perceived as some fresh recruited “Chosen wimps”. While Coco had at first remained calm, merely ignoring the Legionnaires initial disparaging remarks and letting them know that she and her friends had already seen action in the west, things had quickly turned for the worse. The haughty Legionnaires, Coco couldn’t remember which one, the stallion or the mare, had said something about how they “weren’t surprised so many useless Chosen would get killed on the front lines” and that it was “better the pathetic ones died first anyway” before Coco could then only remember seeing red. She wasn’t sure when she’d taken the hit to her nose that had it bleeding and bruised, if not broken but she did remember when the Legion ponies had needed to hobble away while still picking bits of broken door out of their manes.

Mr. and Mrs. Cake had been incredibly understanding about the door... and the table... and the chair...

They’d insisted Coco and her friends take their order and get going before anypony else showed up to ask about what the ruckus had been about, and so they had done exactly that and made their train less than ten minutes later. Now Coco, still nursing her nose, worried if her temper had just gotten them all in serious trouble. Blossomforth didn’t seem worried, but Allie Ways heavy pacing was getting to her.

If anypony comes asking I’ll take full responsibility. Blossomforth and Allie Way say they helped me out, but I only remember being so... angry. I can probably take all the blame. I’m sure I must have thrown the first punch. Ooooh, what’s wrong with me? Why can’t I control myself anymore?

Ever since being drafted into the Legion and being forced into combat Coco had discovered a part of herself she was growing more and more concerned about, and this latest outburst of uncontrolled anger had just been the latest incident. She didn’t know why she got these bursts of rage. She’d thought perhaps it was simply an expression of her revulsion for the violence she’d witnessed in battling the ursans in the Western Barrier Lands, but she wasn’t certain about that, and less so now that the anger had raised its ugly head against her fellow ponies... even if those ponies had been acting like complete jerks.

“Don’t they flog ponies that break the law?” asked Allie Way, gulping, “Or worse?”

“Relax Allie!” said Blossomforth, “The Legion’s all about fighting anyway, so maybe they think of a little hoof scuffle between their ponies as normal. Let’s not worry about it until we’re actually caught-”

“Caught doing what?” asked Coldiron as she and Trixie came through the doors from the street and approached the three suddenly startled mares.

“Oh, hey Coldiron! Er, I mean, Sergeant ma’am!” Blossomforth hastily spouted as she managed a swift salute. Coco Pommel and Allie Way also stood at attention and saluted, a gesture Coldiron was quick to return, eyeing the three.

“At ease. Now, seriously, caught doing what?” Coldiron asked, one brown eyebrow slowly crawling upward.

Before either Blossomforth could try any excuses or Allie Way had an nervous breakdown Coco Pommel decided to just get the matter done with and take the matter into her own hooves. “Ma’am, I have to report that I, and I alone, was caught up in an altercation with fellow Legion soldiers during our leave in Ponyville. An argument broke out at an establishment called Sugarcube Corner and I... assaulted two Legion ponies who said disparaging remarks concerning myself and Privates Allie Way and Blossomforth. After the soldiers sustained several injuries involving impacts with store furniture they fled the scene.”

Standing next to Coldiron, Trixie blinked at Coco and blurted, “Good for you.”

With a sharp glance at Trixie, Coldiron looked back to Coco, “Am I the first one you’ve reported this to?”

“Yes ma’am,” said Coco.

“It wasn’t only her fault Sergeant,” said Blossomforth hastily, “I helped a little too! I totally smashed one of the dudes over the head with a lemon meringue pie!”

Allie Way gulped, “I, uh, might’ve tripped one of them when nopony was looking.”

Coco grit her teeth and drew in a sharp breath, “Girls, I was trying to take responsibility for this!”

“Yeah,” said Blossomforth with a wink, “And we’re sticking with our friend! If there’s to be a flogging, it’ll be a friendship flogging!”

A wince from Allie Way, “I don’t know what friendship has to do with whips and posts, but yeah, sure, moral support I guess.”

Trixie just looked bemused by the proceedings, turning her head to regard Coldiron, “Is this serious?”

Coldiron kept her silence for a few seconds before saying, “If this were between Barrier Lands Legionnaires, not so much. Legion troops get into brawls for everything from serious grudges to simple drunken roughhousing. As long as no permanent injuries that’d impair their ability to fight our actual enemies are incurred, the worst is usually just latrine duty. The problem is that these two ponies fought with Chosen. The Prince has taken a very hard stance on any violence against you Heartlanders. Punishment for them causing harm to the locals could very well involve hanging.”

Coco felt the blood drain rapidly from her face, her heart clenching. "H-hanging? For just... just a little fight? No." She shook her head, feeling dizzy, "I struck first. I started it. Nopony should die because I couldn't keep my temper!"

Blossomforth was blinking, wide eyed, "That does sound pretty extreme as far as policies go."

Trixie just hung her head and muttered, "Is it sad that Trixie isn't surprised by this information?"

Coldiron rolled her eyes at Trixie, then fixed Coco with a hard look, “Did you break anything on these ponies?”

“They...uh... walked away from it. I don’t know more than that,” said Coco.

Coldiron paused a moment longer, then shrugged, “Then it's likely not an issue. I don't know what those two were thinking, baiting you in the first place. They know the penalties for this kind of thing. They certainly won't report it, that's for sure. Probably for the best we pretend this whole incident never happened. Just don't make a habit of getting into fights with your fellow Legionnaires. Honestly you’re lucky you came out of it unscathed.”

“Oh, we totally kicked their flanks,” said Blossomforth with smile, which wilted somewhat under Coldiron’s harsh glare, “Uh, I mean, yeah, okay, we’ll be good.”

“See that you are, because I don’t need the extra headaches while we’re trying to integrate with a new unit,” said Coldiron, “Our lives are going to depend on our ability to work smoothly with our new comrades. I want all of you on your best behavior. You too Trixie.”

Trixie’s muzzle scrunched in a look of indignation, “What has Trixie done to warrant being called out?”

“Look Trixie, I’ve gotten used to it, but the third-person talk is not going to fly with our new unit. We’ll be part of a Special Task Force. There’s some standards expected of us.”

“Trixie’ speech pattern is part of her unique mystique and charm!” declared the azure unicorn firmly, striking a pose, one hoof pumping in a affirmative gesture. Coldiron just stared back at her, and sighed.

“Trixie, learn to drop it. I don’t care how you talk when we’re not on duty, but as long as we’re on the job your eccentricity needs to be curbed to something resembling a normal level. I’m serious. I wouldn’t be telling you this if it wasn’t for your own good. So, please, Trixie, I’m asking as a friend rather than ordering you this time, but don’t make me put on the Sergeant face. I’m new to the rank, but I’ll use it if I have to,” Coldiron said with a voice that was managing to walk the fine borderline between authoritative and understanding. It made Coco think that Coldiron had come a ways from the more rough edged mare she’d met at Beartrap Fortress.

Trixie frowned deeply, brow turning into a wrinkled mass as she seemed to heavily debate with herself internally, but finally she let out a low groan and said, as if the words were falling from her mouth with granite slabs, “Very well... I will ‘drop it’ while in uniform, Coldiron. You owe me for this. My eccentricity as you call it is... important to me. I don’t talk that way for no reason at all.”

“Whatever your reasons, I appreciate you listening. We’ll get some drinks later and maybe you can tell me why that third-person thing is so important to you,” said Coldiron, a tiny, relieved smile on her lips.

Trixie still looked like she was bristling, but she nodded, “I understand, believe it or not. My reasons are my own, however, if it’s all the same to you. I don’t really want to talk about it.”

“...Fair enough,” said Coldiron, moving past the group towards the door leading further into the building, “Now let’s go. I get the feeling we’re going to be the last one’s arriving.”

The mares followed Coldiron deeper into the building, through several tight hallways and up a short flight of stairs. Coco saw a few Legion ponies in the drab cloth tunics and leather jackets of administrative and logistics positions moving silently between rooms, but none stopped to challenge the group as it went past them. Soon enough they reached a door at the southeast end of the floor that opened into a long rectangular meeting hall.

Most of the center space was cleared to fit a number of plain wood benches facing the east wall, and much of the bench space was occupied by a collection of nearly twenty rough looking Legion ponies. Coco might have called them a colorful bunch, but a was often the case with ponies born in the Barrier Lands there was a swath of brown, black, and gray coats and manes with only the rare hint here and there of brighter colors. The one pony not seated was a beige pegasus mare who looked to be of middle years, possessing a long wavy mane of creme white. She had a twinkle of dry amusement in her green eyes as she looked at the entering party.

“You’re just in time. I was about to draft one of the crew here to go looking for you,” said the pegasus mare while offering a swift, sharp salute.

Coco fell into the return salute alongside her friends as Coldiron said in clipped military tone, “Sergeant Coldiron reporting for duty Captain along with Privates Trixie Lulamoon, Coco Pommel, Blossomforth, and Allie Way.”

“Accepted and welcome. Take seats where you can find them and we’ll get this briefing underway.”

As they went about searching for clear spots to sit among the benches Coco was aware of the stares being aimed their way. A few were openly curious, like from a waif-like stallion with a drab white coat like slightly dirty snow and a cropped sand colored mane, his blue eyes alert. Other looks were clearly unfriendl, such as the one being shot their way by a mare that Coco swore had to have been chiseled out of a chunk of obsidian, her muscular frame wrapped in a midnight black coat that clashed sharply with a shock of white, unruly mane. That mare’s smokey gray eyes felt like they could chip stone as they looked hard at Coco, making her feel cold as she found a clear bit of bench. There wasn’t space for her and her friends to sit together, so they ended up being spread out.

Coco found herself seated next to the thin white stallion and another mare, this one an older looking unicorn with a coat like murky mud water and a mane just a few shades darker tied in a short, simple braid. The mare didn’t even look at Coco, but the stallion, an earth pony she noticed now, kept looking at her curiously as Coco sat down.

“Private Seeker,” the stallion said quietly with a offered hoof. After a second Coco took the offered hoof with a firm shake.

“Coco Pommel,” she said in return, managing a brief smile before the pegasus at the head of the room cleared her throat loudly.

“There will be time for everypony to get to know one another soon enough, for now I want all eyes up front and ears perked forward!”

There was a stir as all ponies pointed their attention towards the pegasus mare, Coco induced after only a short glance of apology to Seeker, who waved it off with a wry half smile of his own. Coco spirit’s felt a tad lifted. Perhaps there’d be some good ponies to get to know among her new comrades.

“Alright then, I am Captain Windstriker, formerly of Special Operations. I’ve been reassigned to head up this new unit and the lot of you are the first officially assembled platoon for what will in time potentially become a branch of the Legion as integral as any other. As of this moment the Underwatch is activated as a Special Task Force under the authority of Prince Terrato himself.”

Windstriker paused for a moment to then grab at a pull down screen that Coco hadn’t noticed was hanging there before. It was the kind of canvas sheet that professors at universities might use for slideshow presentations, though in this case there was no slideshow but instead a series of pinned on scrolls and maps. The map showed various regions all over the Barrier Lands, with particular emphasis on the Western Barrier lands. Charcoal made Xs and circlings along the map, and Coco noted that one spot in particular was heavily circled, that being the northernmost outpost of Beartrap Fortress.

On the scrolls were several drawings, some in intricate detail, of the Lurkers. The spidery creatures were depicted both intact as Coco had seen them, and several parchments laced together to show what she could only imagine was the autopsy of the body she and her friends had brought back from the encounter at Arrow Vale. Windstriker cleared her throat and resumed speaking in a grave tone.

“By now those of you who don’t have personal experience with the events that transpired in the Western Barrier lands have at least read the reports so I’ll skip the summary. The fact is that a new race of subterranean arachnids has revealed itself and has already clearly marked themselves as adversaries of ponykind. It is the Underwatch’s mission to scout, measure, and if needed counteract any threat these ‘Lurkers’ represent. To that end you have been assembled from a long list of candidates for your skills and demonstrated bravery in action-”

At those words there was a heavy, derisive snort, and Windstriker halted with a frozen glare in her eyes as she looked towards the large black coated earth pony mare near the front row.

“Did you have words to share with us, Corporal Blackwall?”

The mare, Blackwall, met the Captain’s gaze with an equal one of her own, seemingly unintimidated by rank. Her voice was lighter than Coco expected coming from such a large mare.

“Just wondering how a bunch of raw Chosen recruits got picked for this job, Captain.”

Windstriker’s voice was deceptively calm, “You’ve read the reports, haven’t you? You’re aware the mares in question have not only survived several battles against ursans, but they’re also among the only ponies with direct combat experience against the Lurkers themselves?”

Blackwall’s features barely twitched, “I’m aware, Captain. Fact remains that they’re recruits who have only a couple of battles under their belts, and putting them in a unit like this that is going to hinge on every single pony having a veteran’s instincts and skills to keep ourselves alive strikes me as a poor choice.”

“Hey!” pipped in Blossomforth, “We got every reason to be here. We might not have all the experience some of you got, but we held our own against giant bears and spiders alike.”

“Which doesn’t mean you can deal with working in a team where everypony’s got to trust the other’s instincts, or face death!” growled Blackwall.

“Relax,” said another mare, a pegasus with a dark blue coat and a neatly tied back mane of equally dark brown, who was occupying her part of the bench with a laid back lounge that somehow made her look lazy even as her brown eyes glittered with alertness, “What’s the point of dragging out a conversation like this? They’re here because they were assigned, and you can’t argue with assignments any more than you can argue with the wind.”

Blackwall grunted, and Blossomforth sat back in her seat. Windstriker in the meantime had cross her fore legs across her chest as she hovered in the air, one eyebrow quirked upwards. When the room went quiet she said, “Corporal Quickaim has the right of it. Every single pony in this unit is here because it is the decision of those in command, including myself, that all of you have something of value to bring to the table. While your concerns are duly noted, Corporal Blackwall, the current unit assignment isn’t changing. I suggest you learn to get along with your new comrades, because as you say you will be relying on each other for survival. Get used to it.”

Blackwall’s face went still as stone and she said, “Understood, Captain.”

Coco let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, noticing that during the whole exchange she’d been gripping the edge of the bench tightly, almost to the point of bending the wood, and that her whole body had tensed with an undercurrent of anger. She took a deep breath, trying to relax herself and wondering if this was always going to be the case, she and her fellow “Chosen” of the Heartland having to constantly prove their worth to the ponies of the Barrier Lands.

I shouldn’t even care what they think. Blossomforth is right, we’ve seen battle, and don’t have anything left to prove.

Windstriker continued the briefing as if the interruption hadn’t even occurred, her clear tone ringing out loudly over the meeting room without seeming to raise her voice.

“Since the incidents at Beartrap Fortress and the nearby town of Arrow Vale the boys and girls in the intelligence department have been gathering as many reports and stories from all the different Barrier Lands to seek out anything that resembles potential Lurker activity. From old mare’s tales to more recent reports of unusual activity we’ve put together that these buggers have been keeping their thoraxes pretty damned well hidden. While practically every region of the Barrier Lands has at least one or two stories of shadowy things in the night that might be attributed to Lurkers, it’s really only the Western Barrier Lands that have consistent stories of such things hiding in the forests and hills, making it clear that if there's any extensive tunnel system leading to the Lurker’s lands below the earth it’ll likely have entrances scattered around that region. Aside from Arrow Vale itself with the recent attack there’s one other town, further south by a good eighty miles, that has the greatest concentration of Lurker related stories.”

Windstriker pointed to the map. The Western Barrier Lands was a realm of deep valleys and rocky terrain, sandwiched between two vast mountains ranges. The one to the east was the smaller of the two ranges, separating the Western Barrier Lands from the Heartland of Equestria. The larger mountain range to the west was beyond massive, even looking at it in its mapped form. For all the map showed that mountain range covered all the known world to the west, ranging north and south for hundreds upon hundreds of miles. Those mountains, and the vast forests that occupied its foothills, was the realm of the dreaded ursans, the huge bear-like creatures that terrorized the west and had nearly been responsible for the destruction of Beartrap Fortress.

Between the two mountain ranges was a large belt of land that the Legion occupied and protected, dozens of villages and towns dotting the river and forest strewn realm between the two mountain ranges. Beartrap Fortress had been at the northernmost point of that region, just at the borderline between the forests and the northern tundra that made up the Northern Barrier Lands. Now Windstriker pointed a spot a good distance south of Beartrap Fortress, to a small plateau surrounded by deep forests and only a few small roads snaking out of a single point marked as “Victor’s Cliff”. Several small charcoal Xs around the surrounding forest made the town stand out on the map.

“Most towns in the Western territories have a few stories of Lurkers, but Victor’s Cliff has at least three times as many as any other place. Even the ursans, when they mounted an invasion through that area a century or so ago was reported to have given the forests a wide berth and stuck to the roads rather than venture too deep into the trees. Right now the Underwatch is purely on recon until we can find a trace of actual Lurker activity. Beartrap Fortress is being repaired after the ursan attack and its ponies are on high alert for further signs of the Lurkers, but the tunnels beneath Arrow Vale that the spiders apparently dug have also been collapsed, so we can’t scout there. Instead we’re going to leave for Victor’s Cliff in two days and conduct a search of reported sightings and see what we can dig up. In the meantime the lot of you are on drills each morning, so you can get to know one another before we deploy in the field. Any questions?”

The drab white earth pony stallion next to Coco raised a hoof.

“Yes Private Seeker?”

“Do we have anything stronger to go off of than just some stories, Captain? Other than the fact that there’s more of them around Victor’s Cliff than most other towns, that doesn’t sound like the strongest of evidence.”

“It's what we have to work with for the time being. Intelligence is churning it’s rumormill overtime to try and get anything more solid, but the fact is we got to work with what we’ve got. There was a very recent report of a young filly in the town suffering from some kind of strange dementia that none of the local healer’s can explain, but we don’t know if that’s related or not and is just one of the threads we’ll investigate while in the town. We’ll be stuck grasping at straws until we find something solid to get our hooves on, I’m afraid.”

Trixie suddenly raised her hoof as well, causing a small phantom of a smile to quirk Windstriker’s lips, though Coco couldn’t guess at why. “Something to add, Private Lulamoon?”

“It is a thought Trix-, I have had. Your reports and stories all come from the Barrier Lands, yes?”

“Correct, that’s where our intel ponies have been gathering its info from.”

“So they have not searched for any information here in the Heartland?”

That caused a pause in Windstriker, “That’s an angle I don’t think any of the ponies in intelligence have thought of. Do you think the Heartland might have stories of the Lurkers as well?”

Trixie looked about at the ponies in the room, most of whom were staring at her, and she just shrugged, head held high, “It is possible. Equestria has many fantastical tales of strange creatures. We’re not as bland and peaceful here as you Barrier Lands types might think! I merely think it may be worth searching the local libraries for possible lore that might make reference to shadowy lurkers or the like. It's possible, after all, that the spiders have reared their ugly heads here in the Heartland at some point.”

“A good thought. Alright, Private Trixie, I’ll assign you to the task of digging up what you can from the libraries here in Canterlot, after morning drills of course. Feel free to pick a few others to help you. Private Seeker has a keen eye for details, so take him, and... Blackwall, you’ll help with that as well.”

Blackwall barely hid a grimace as both she and Seeker said, “Yes Captain.”

After that there were no more questions so Windstriker called the room to attention, all the ponies standing smartly and providing a salute that Windstriker returned swiftly, “Drills will be at 0500 at the south courtyard. Until then you’re free to enjoy what little time we’ve got left before heading out into the breach. Dismissed!”

“This was a terrible idea,” Trixie muttered to herself after pouring over the dusty pages of what felt like over a hundred tomes. Nearby a derisive snort was followed by a book closing and the firm glare from Blackwall.

“It took you six hours of this to figure that one out?”

“Tri, ugh, I imagined that if there were any references to giant spiders in Canterlot’s vast archives they'd’... stand out more.” Trixie said with a seething frustration in her voice, “So far all we’ve found are references to the larger end of normal spiders found by nature enthusiasts.”

“I wouldn’t say this has been a total loss,” said Seeker as he rounded the corner of a large book shelf, one of dozens that filled the huge archive chambers. He carried a small stack of books balanced on his back, “While I’ve located nothing about Lurkers, or even possible Lurkers, I did manage to find a few expedition journals from Equestria’s geological survey academy. There have been several groups of ‘rockologists’-” he gave a sardonic smirk at the term, “Who made several detailed maps of underground caves across the Heartland, along with extensive notes on various flora and fauna found within.”

“I don’t see that helping us unless they actually ran into Lurkers,” grunted Blackwall, pushing aside the book in front of her as if it had personally offended her and only begrudgingly grabbing another from her own stack, “We won’t even be entering the caverns beneath this land of soft bellied Chosen.”

Trixie bit back a set of angry words, trying to recall that not so long ago Coldiron had held a similar attitude as Blackwall. She forced herself to remember that, with time, she’d learned to get along with Coldiron. She could afford some patience with Blackwall. Some. If the mare kept pushing it...

“Even if they don’t mention Lurkers, maybe there’s other information that’d be useful,” Trixie said slowly, almost biting off her words, “What’s edible, how to find water, any natural dangers that might exist in such caverns. I’ve never gone spelunking before, and I don’t know how often you have either. Might be useful to read up on what other ponies’ experiences were, even if they were ‘Chosen’.”

“That was my thought,” said Seeker, “Going deep underground isn’t exactly something that’s come up often in Legion operations. I don’t know many ponies that have experience with it.”

Blackwall sighed, one dark fetlock flipping pages as her eyes scanned the pages of her book, “I could be at a tavern right now, getting my last shot at some decent alcohol. I’ll give you Chosen that much, the local brews aren’t bad.”

Rubbing her head, staving in vain to keep a headache from forming, Trixie finished skimming the book she’d been working on and closed it with a frustrated sigh of her own that nearly echoed Blackwall’s. Maybe she should have asked her friends for help on this, too? Captain Windstriker had said she could choose who she wanted to assist her, but she hadn’t wanted to deny her friends one more night to themselves before they were deployed.

“If you’ve tapped out this shelf,” said Seeker, looking at her with a cooly understanding pair of eyes, “You could head to the next floor and get started there. We’ve searched most of the first floor anyway, so you might as well get a head start on the next while Blackwall and I finish up here.”

The library was multi-tiered, with three floors total, shaped much like an inverted pyramid, with wide, varnished wood stairs leading between each level of wall to wall bookshelves. Trixie, glancing up at the next floor, gave a quick nod, rising her numb rump from the her seat. “A fine idea. Much more of that and Trixie’s flank would’ve fallen asleep.”

“You already losing your mind, Chosen, talking in the third person?” asked Blackwall casually.

Trixie groaned. It wasn’t as easy as one might think, to change a speech pattern used for so long. Her own fault, she supposed, for insisting to use it for as long as she worked as a stage magician. Or at least considered herself to be one. She still did, despite her position in the Legion. Being a drafted soldier was a temporary thing, until she could serve her time, get out, and return to her real life as a traveling practitioner of the art of illusion, awing and amazing crowds both big and small. At least, that’s what she hoped for.

Given her recent experiences, an early, violent death seemed far more likely. She tried to banish the thought and doggedly avoided answering Blackwall’s question, just flicking her tail and trotting away. She managed to hear a bit more conversation from her new comrades as she left.

“Try to ease up a bit, Blackwall. You’ll be relying on her and the other Heartlanders to watch your back before long. All of us will,” said Seeker.

“I know. That’s what pisses me off,” was Blackwall’s heated reply, “Mark my words, Seeker, if we run into trouble, one of them will crack. When that happens, good ponies will die.”

“Always the optimistic ray of sunshine, you are...”

Trixie didn’t hear the rest as she left earshot and went up the stairs. There weren’t many ponies inside this library. It was attached to the royal palace, and while open to the public it wasn’t common for ponies to wander in. This meant the library was largely quiet, and the strange acoustics of the place seemed to muffle noise rather than carry it. That may have been why Trixie hadn’t heard the other pony on this floor until she turned around the side of one of the bookshelves that stood out from the wall to find herself almost running face first into the pony on the other side.

“Ack!”

“Gah!”

Both Trixie and the other pony gave a start, stepping back from each other. Trixie blinked several times, halfway through an apology before she actually looked at the pony she’d nearly run into. Then she just stared.

Twilight Sparkle was much as Trixie had remembered. A unicorn mare of average stature, and exceedingly... purple. A light violet coat, dark purple eyes, and an even deeper shade of purple in her long straight mane and tale, with sheer, cropped bangs. The only other marks of color on her was the hot pink streak through the mane on the pinkish hue to the central stair of her cutie mark, surrounded by smaller white stars. Trixie was shocked enough to see the mare standing there she almost didn’t notice the long, Legion battlemage coat Twilight wore, a mirror to the leather coat Trixie also had on.

Twilight was the first to recover her wits, shaking her head in disbelief, “Trixie? What are you doing here?”

Feeling a flush of embarrassment, quickly followed by immediate defensive anger, Trixie said, “T-Trixie is here because she’s supposed to be here. Doing important work. What are you doing here?”

A flat look crossed Twilight’s face, but it vanished rather quickly as Twilight’s eyes focused on Trixie’s face, slowly turning to an expression of shock, followed by horror, then soft sympathy. With a twisting feeling in her gut Trixie realized Twilight had just noticed the scar on Trixie’s face, and the whited out, almost blind state of her eye.

“Oh no, I didn’t think that those drafted had already seen action...” Twilight said.

Anger flared up like a hot poker through the rib cage, Trixie’s voice turning scalding, “Trixie does not require or want pity. A question was asked, so answer it. What are you doing here, Twilight Sparkle?”

Sympathy gave way to a look of annoyance, though not as hard as it might have been as Twilight seemed to take a calming breath and said, “If you have to know, I’m studying."

Trixie's eyebrow rose, "Studying what?"

A pensive frown creased Twilight's features, "Meadowbrook's Treatise on Space/Time Metaphysics, the Grimoire of Thousand Useful Spells in Uncommon Circumstances, Calculated Cantrips for Cautious Casters, and Trotenhiemer's Theories of Advanced Spell Mechanics. Just to get me started."

"So... just some light reading, eh?" Trixie said.

"It relaxes me," said Twilight, perhaps a bit sharply, "I have a long journey ahead of me, and I wanted to calm my nerves. Libraries do that for me, okay? Now, I've answered your question, how about you return the favor and answer mine as well?”

Trixie considered stiffing the other mare, just to stick it to the pony she felt was largely responsible for her life entering its downhill slide, but... but admittedly after Beartrap Fortress, it almost all seemed pointless. Petty, even. What did her grudge against Twilight Sparkle matter compared to what she had in front of her, as part of the Underwatch? Besides, she could impress her rival with her great accomplishments! She bet Twilight hadn’t done anything as impressive as face down an ursan Warlord! Admittedly all she had actually done was hurl insults at Ulragnok to distract him so her friends could actually defeat him, but that still counted!

“Ahem, well, since you asked, Trixie is also preparing herself for an arduous journey,” she said, smiling and rubbing a hoof on her chest as if idly buffing it, “You see, after Trixie’s brave and incredible performance at the battle of Beartrap Fortress she has been given the honor of serving in the Legion’s newest and most important unit, tasked with hunting a shadowy threat to all of Equestria; the deadly Lurkers!”

At Twilight’s blank stare Trixie grit her teeth, going on, “Lurkers? Giant spiders? Live beneath the ground? Probably want to take over the world or some such?”

“...First I’ve heard of it,” said Twilight, in a tone that suggested she thought Trixie was conjuring tales.

“W-well they’re real!” Trixie stammered, teeth grinding, “My friends and I are going to find out what they’re up to and put a stop to it! Its way more impressive than singing a lullaby to an Ursa Minor that probably would’ve just... just...”

“Stepped on you and the rest of Ponyville?” suggested Twilight, eyebrow raising.

Trixie let out a withering groan, “Why did you have to go and bring that up!?”

“I didn’t! You did!” said Twilight with exasperation written all over her face.

Trixie blinked, mentally reviewing the conversation, “Oh. Trixie supposes she did. Um, well, nevermind then. NO! Trixie is not done speaking her mind to you, Twilight Sparkle!”

“Well, ‘Twilight Sparkle’ is done listening to Trixie speaking her mind, if Trixie can’t keep it civil,” said Twilight, moving to trot around Trixie, who quickly stepped to block the way.

“Wait! Wait. Trixie...” she gulped, then slowly managed to bite out, “Trixie can... be civil.”

“Good,” Twilight said, glancing around, then spotting a nearby table and gestured to it. Both mares went to sit, which Trixie did so rather awkwardly. While her ire had been up it’d been easy to think of all the things she wanted to say to Twilight Sparkle, mostly accusations of life ruination and all that. Trying to curb that feeling, it left her feeling drained more than anything else, and not knowing what to say.

Twilight seemed to understand the other mare’s sudden lack of steam and said, “Let’s start over for a second. What happened to you after Ponyville?”

“Nothing,” Trixie said, then bit her lip, shaking her head, “Alright, not nothing. Trixie’s show was rather less than enthusiastically welcomed once word spread of the... incident, with the Ursa Minor. It got to the point where Trixie had to take part time jobs just to keep payments up on her new wagon. Trixie was in Canterlot when the announcements about the Barrier Lands were made. Seemed all quite mad, to Trixie. Even moreso, when the draft happened, and Trixie found herself... pressed into service.”

It was strange. She hadn’t really told anypony else the story of what had happened during her first weeks as a Legion recruit. Her friends who were fellow draftees or already Legionnaires of course knew it all because they’d lived it beside her. But she’d never really compartmentalized and told the whole tale. It felt good, actually, just to talk about it. Even better to get it all out to the one mare she had a burning need to one-up, though as the tale wore on it became less about impressing Twilight and more just having another pony listen to it all. The pain and fear of battle, the anguish and rage at seeing other ponies brutally mauled to death by ursans, the friendships gradually forged with ponies like Blossomforth, Coco Pomelle, Coldiron, and Allie Way.

The Lurkers practically ended up taking a back seat, compared to the more personal details of the battles Trixie and her friends went through and the trust they built with each other. Especially Coldiron. Trixie went on a bit at length about how much Coldiron got under her hide at first, until shared experience broke down walls and led to a mutual respect that now existed between the two.

“She’s actually a very skilled mage, and for all that she seems hard and stiff necked, she honestly cares about her comrades. I thought her pride in the Legion just pointless chest thumping, but after Beartrap Fortress, Trixie saw what the Legion fights for and why it’s made them the way they are. Trixie wouldn’t want anypony else beside her, going down into the dark to seek out the Lurkers.”

Realizing she’d spoken almost non-stop for quite some time Trixie blinked, looking around, then back to Twilight, who was watching Trixie with a contemplative look on her face. Twilight was silent for a moment, her own eyes taking on a distant look as if remembering things herself.

“I’m glad you and you friends made it through all of that, Trixie. It isn’t easy, experience battle for the first time. The Legion, the Barrier Lands, they’re not easy truths to face, but its what we have had to do. My friends and I have been through a lot as well. Some of it...” Twilight took a deep breath, letting it out slow and heavy, her eyes dulling with a saddened shadow, “Some of it hasn’t ended well. Not for everypony. Too many lives wasted, and the dangers become worse and worse with each new battle. I don’t know how we’re going to...”

She shook herself, “Well, where there’s a will, right? If there’s anything I can say you and I share from our experiences, it's that our friends are what got us through it all, and will keep seeing us through the journeys. I’m happy you made some. Friends, that is.”

Trixie looked at Twilight askance, “Why would you care? You don’t even like me.”

“Trixie, you might not have made a good first impression, but that doesn’t mean I hate you. I barely know you,” Twilight said, managing a small smile, “After this, I hope I can say I know you a bit better.”

With a sullen look Trixie said, “Trixie has... I, have had a grudge against you since Ponyville. At times, back then, it was the only thought keeping me going. Coming back to Ponyville to show you up for humiliating me. Now? Now that just sounds so stupid and petty. There’s more important things to be dealt with. The Lurkers and... and what exactly is it you’ve got on your plate, anyway? You’ve let me do all the talking, you haven’t told me a thing about what happened to you or what you or your friends are dealing with?”

Twilight laughed, and Trixie noticed it was a high strung, bitter laugh, “That, Trixie, is a story that’d take even longer than yours did. Maybe next time we meet, I’ll tell you the whole thing. If I’m still alive.” For a second the mare’s voice dropped to a ominous whisper, “If any of us are, by the end of it...”

Twilight stood and turned to leave, pausing briefly, to look back at Trixie, “It sounds like these Lurkers of yours are going to be a dangerous foe to face, and you’ll be walking into their home territory. I assume you came here to look up information about them? I spent a lot of time here in the libraries when I was Celestia’s apprentice. I remember almost everything I ever read. Try the third floor, shelf F-2, sixth row. I seem to recall there was a collection of myths and legends there, and that there was an entry or two about... oh, what was it? There was a passage; ‘The eight legged, eight eyed star that fell when the land was barren, the Origin cloaked in web, forgotten beneath the surface.’. Written by the great eastern unicorn sage, Meadowbrook, I think. Try there.”

“Th-thanks,” Trixie said, and as Twilight left, she called out one last time, “Twilight Sparkle.”

The other unicorn glanced back one more, and Trixie managed to give a awkward smile, “Good luck, with whatever journey it is you're taking.”

After second Twilight returned the smile, no less awkwardly, “You too, Trixie.”

Chapter 2: Threads Left Untied

Chapter 2: Threads Left Untied

Sound echoed far in the dark, curving tunnel’s of Broodmother Chirziane’s subterranean fortress. She'd come to name the fortress "Highbounty" in honor of the great wealth of resources she intended to funnel down to the rest of the Aranea race from the surface world, using the fortress as the primary hub. Aside from the heavily defended inner chambers and tunnels she'd commanded expansion in the form of several new outlying chambers in preparation for housing a larger population of workers and hunters. Construction on the fortresses outer fortifications had recently finished, in case of any retaliatory strikes the pony or ursan prey species might try to mount, but Chirziane suspected it would be some time before either species managed to even locate Highbounty. She had her hunter-caste spread out in several eights worth of hunting parties in all directions of the surface realm specifically to throw off any such searches, and soon their numbers would grow.

With a loving leg she stroked the thick, white cocoons, half a dozen of them that rested snugly in her breeding nest, deep in the heart of her fortress. Thirza had supplied ample seed to spawn what would be the first generation of hunter-caste to be born this close to the surface, and she intended them to be trained from hatching to adapt to the surface land’s harsh light and strange terrain. A new breed that would capture the wealth of the surface and make Chirziane’s brood respected and relied upon by all other broods of the Aranea realm. Within the next year she intended to have firmly established herself as the only Broodmother with access to the vast wealth that could be plundered from the surface, and use that to further entrench and expand until her position was unassailable by the surfacer races or rival Broodmothers alike.

Then of course there were her other plans. So many plans, so many threads, spinning and connecting to one another, a beautiful web of schemes that if all paid off would catch her power and wealth to rival the Queen herself. Such was the ambition of all Broodmothers, but Chirziane knew herself to be the most clever, the most daring, and hence the most worthy of ascending to prominence. There was great risk in her ventures, yes, but that was where Chirziane would succeed where other Broodmothers suffered mediocrity. She, unlike them, was willing to take great risks for the chance of great reward.

Now I must attend to my other threads, she thought, reluctantly leaving her nest, a vast domed web set at the bottom of Highbounty’s lowest cavern, not far from her throne chambers. Only her most trusted hunter-caste guarded this room, a trio of massive, hairy Aranea whose thick legs were plated in rune crafted armor, bladed gauntlets large enough to cleave a surface tree in half. They excluded pheromones of pleasure and obedience as Chirziane left her nest, prostrating themselves at her passage. She favored them with comforting chitters and a burst of satisfied pheromones that would tickle their senses with pleasure and maintain her standing order to destroy any that would dare try to enter her breeding nest without permission.

Often Thirza would have this honor, but he was commanding the hunters dealing with the ursans to the west. The fool Ulragnok, the pretentious ursan Warchief that Chirziane had used to weaken the ponies, had not only failed to do as much damage to the pony lands as she’d hoped, but was now seemingly bent on hunting her brood a well. Several eights worth of spinner-caste workers attempting to string together watch posts in the ursan lands had been destroyed. An irritating setback. Thirza’s task was to slay Ulragnok and put an end to that bur in her chitin. She had faith her darling Thirza would succeed in that task, even with his most recent injury from confronting the ponies.

Then there was Leyshi, precious little Leyshi, her most cherished and favored brood-caste servant. She was likely still in the lab, Chirziane knew. Probably had not rested since the troubles with the most recent test subject. Leyshi was such a hard worker, but flighty of personality, easily distracted until an interesting problem presented itself... then she was relentless to the point of self damage. Chirziane had also noticed Leyshi had been acting odd since returning from her excursion to the surface. The little thing had been captured by ponies, tortured by them, yet since then her obsession with learning more about the surface world and its various prey species seemed to overtake the young brood-caste Aranea's common sense. Chirziane had even recently caught her extensively conversing with the test subjects rather than pursuing her research! Quite troubling.

Why Leyshi had even felt it important to speak at any length with their test subjects was not something Chirziane understood, though learning the language itself certainly had its uses. She had several surfacer books in her collection of curiosities that she enjoyed flipping through, and many of her hunter-caste had learned some surfacer speak to make their tasks of spying or food capture easier. Adaption was a virtue among the Aranea, after all.

When she climbed down a vast vertical shaft leading to her labratory, legs grasping the wall of thick webs that encircled the shaft in long strides, she did found Leyshi still there at the bottom, hard at work. The young brood-caste Aranea was much smaller than Chirziane’s massive house-sized form, no bigger than most spinner-caste, but Leyshi did have the similar bulbous body shape with the elegant, large back end and smaller front, covered with chitin of a lustrous blue sheen as opposed to Chriziane’s darker black.

Pleased pheromones of greeting preceded Chirziane, but unsurprisingly Leyshi was so wrapped in her work she hardly reacted, carefully monitoring a series of well woven web tubes that stuck into the test subjects body with worked needles formed from spinner fangs. The tubes were connected in turn to several large web sacks, rune etched clamps of bone acting as controls to regulate the chemical compounds being gradually added to the test subject’s bloodstream.

The test subject in question was a pony, female, of the pegasus variety, tightly bound to a table of worked stone by thick strands of web. The pegasus was conscious, but the glazed roll of its brown eyes made it clear it was hardly aware of itself anymore.

“Progress, Leyshi?” Chirziane clicked as she approached, causing the smaller brood-caste to nearly jump in surprise.

“Ah! Broodmother! Is it... morning already? Oh. Hmm, well, progress, yes, progress,” Leyshi made a few rapid, frustrated clicks with her fangs, “I’m afraid the new mixture just isn’t having the results we want. The magic, it remains mostly grounded to the body. The best we’ve managed was with the previous mixture that siphons off at least a fraction of their inherent magic, but that kills the subject too quickly. I don’t like it. It hurts them so much.”

“Their pain is not what matters. They are prey. These ones are not just a potential source of food, but of power, if we can but find a way to drain it from them efficiently!” said Chirziane with a cold tone and blast of pheromones laced with chilling command, making Leyshi quiver and lower herself before the Broodmother.

“Yes, Broodmother, of course! I just... the ideal is to keep them alive, to ever provide more magic, yes?”

That was true, the ultimate hope of these experiments was to create a chemical brew that would alter a pony’s physiology and metaphysical makeup so that their changed blood could be harvested to not only feed an Aranea, but provide magic as well. Aranea did not possess innate magic as the surface dwelling species seemed to, and instead had to siphon it from other sources. Traditionally, for nearly as long as the Aranea’s history stretched back, it was magical crystals mined from the depths of the underworld that served this purpose. Harvested and drained by the ancient runes to form the basis of power for the Aranea’s runecraft. Yet these ponies could use magic naturally, their bodies steeped in it.

Taking that magic, as well as their blood, was a cornerstone of Chirziane’s future ambitions.

If only they could find a way to do it without killing the subject. What good was it to harvest once, when one might harvest for as long as the subject naturally lived? In Chirziane’s mind she saw many fortresses like Highbounty, dotting the expanse of the underworld’s upper caverns, all the species of prey upon the surface cocooned in vast farms where their blood would flow, providing food and magic to all of Aranea kind. And she would be the one providing that power, the one raised up above all others...

Except for the Queen of course, and if certain other plans proved fruitful, well, no limit might prove unattainable for her.

Shaking off dreams of glory, she turned her full attention to Leyshi. Among the few brood-caste maidens that served her, Chirziane valued Leyshi the most. Though somewhat skittish and flighty of mind, Leyshi was as skillful in the art of alchemy as any Chirziane had seen come from the royal breeding nests. Only Leyshi had understood Chirziane’s theories and designs to convert the surface races through the power of alchemic modification, and had been vigorously enthusiastic in the pursuit of the goal... at least until recently. Something had changed within Leyshi, a softness and unnatural fascination towards understanding the surface races. So far it had been little more than a minor concern, but a growing concern nonetheless.

“Remember that these creatures are not our equals, Leyshi. They are part of the world’s bounty that was promised to us by the Queen’s Covenant, and ever shall they be treated as such. Do what you must to make our work succeed, but do not waste thought upon unwarranted... kindness.”

She added a tinge of displeased, sour pheromones to the air to emphasize her point, causing Leyshi to shiver and prostrate herself, smelling of obedient pheromones, and also confusion.

“Of course my Broodmother. I would not do anything I thought would displease you. My life is yours to command, in all things.”

Chirziane let herself chitter a pleased clacking with her fangs, sweetening the air once more with content, approving pheromones and letting one long, slim foreleg caress Leyshi’s chitin comfortingly. “I know, my little Leyshi. So loyal and eager. That is why I have a special task for you. A task I can only trust you with, since Thirza is so busy serving me elsewhere.”

There was a faint puff of worry scent form Leyshi, her voice chittering with concern, “Is Thirza well? He lost a leg rescuing me from the pony fortress, and now he hunts the ursans who are even larger than ponies.”

“There is no need for you to be concerned about that,” said Chirziane, “Thirza has his tasks and you now shall have yours. Now listen carefully Leyshi. I cannot afford failure in this matter.”

There was an eager bobbing motion from Leyshi, almost as if the young Aranea was already bursting with energy to go about her mistress’ bidding. “Yes, of course. What would you have me do, Broodmother?”

“Follow me to my chambers. There is something I must show you, first.”

Leyshi’s curiosity seemed piqued, a quizzical tilt to her face as she said, “Yes, Broodmother.”

The pair left the laboratory, leaving the drugged, dazed pony to stew, just one of what would be many experiments to come to perfect the formula Chriziane sought. Highbounty’s corridors, circular and vast, mimicked a web in very classical Aranea styled architecture, with minimal decoration for the time being. Chirziane wished to fix that as soon as possible, and the first shipments of live prey stock captured on surface raids was being prepared for transport back to the heart of the realm. Once the wealth began to pour back from that she could afford luxuries like colored glow crystals to decorate the halls and fine web-silk cushions for comfortable chambers. Until then things were still utilitarian and fairly bare, even inside her own private chambers, a large spherical space where she’d crafted several layers of webbing to make for several ‘rooms’ within the chamber.

The uppermost room was where she slept and fed when needed, and she had several choice prey wrapped up tightly there for when she flt peckish; two ponies and an ursan, little more than white webbed bundles identifiable only by vague shape and size, now. The middle room was where she would meet guests when not using her throne chambers, and here she’d acquired a few surface curiosities to decorate in lieu of proper Aranea accommodations. An actual table of that strange material the bizarre surface stalagmites were made from, ‘wood’ she thought the term was, dominated most the center of the middle room. She had a few shelves and a dresser made from the same malleable but resilient material where she stored a few books; the circular Aranea kind spun from thick web, and the much odder surface kind of thin pages bound in more wood or even leather.

Hmph, they use the skins of other creatures to wear or contain their knowledge and yet Leyshi thinks them peaceable enough to befriend? She must learn to contain her optimism.

There were a few other curios placed here and there. A chandelier, where apparently the surface races were fond of burning wicks upon piles of wax as opposed to using glow crystals, was webbed against the far wall. A tall standing mirror cased in bronze was set up against another wall, a intriguing thing as Chirziane still was unsure what the ponies used the reflective surface for, other than to look at themselves, and she could not yet fathom the purpose of that.

It was the lower room she took Leyshi to, Chirizane’s private study, where she kept things of a more private and important nature to her. Here she had more proper tables carved from stone and padded webbing, and seating made from balled clumps of web made to fit the contours of an Aranea’s body. More books were here, all Aranea in nature, but there were several scrolls and maps that were made from the surfacer parchment, including one large map laid out across one of the tables, among piles of scrolls and a few open books. It was this she led Leyshi to.

“I have told you I have another purpose in coming to the surface besides the venture of establishing outposts, and in time, a proper territory to call my own. Here is that purpose,” she gestured at the books, “These are the journals of Yiviravel the Traveler.”

Leyshi let out a tiny squeak, one part surprise, one part utter delight. Many young Aranea grew upon at least one or two tales of Yiviravel and her fabled travels across all the underworld. And the surface. According to legend Yiviravel was the first Aranea to travel to the surface and learn of its wonders. Over the centuries there’d always been occasional expeditions of adventurous Aranea to see if the stories of the surface held truth. Chirziane’s was the largest, most ambitious such quest on record, a fact she was immensely proud of, but she was not the first. Where most expeditions gained little other than the occasional tasty prey or tall tale of strange things like cities of crystal or frozen lands filled with vicious monsters, Yiviravel’s tales were always the most fantastic... and among all those tales none were more strange than the discovery of the Shards.

“Do you know of the Shards?” Chirziane asked, already knowing the likely answer.

“Oh yes, yes I do! The Shards of the Origin!” Leyshi said excitedly, bouncing from one set of legs to the other, “Yiviravel claimed she found them scattered in several regions of the surface, always buried within craters or similar depressions. Strange things always happened around the Shards, twisting reality around them. Yiviravel claimed to hear a voice from within them, telling her to find and gather the Shards. She never could, but she believed the Shards, made from silvery metal, were the same as the fabled Origin of the Aranea race! The silver Origin that in legend brought us to this world.”

“Yes, a tale as old as our race. The Queen alone knows the truth. She’s ever remained quiet upon the question of the Origin. What it was, why it brought her here to birth our race, if it even ever existed or was just a story the first broodmothers born from the Queen told themselves for amusement. Regardless of whether or not they are connected to the Origin, I believe the Shards are real.”

She went to the map, one leg pointing to several marks dotting an expanse of land that Leyshi would likely recognize as the Western Barrier lands, “This map was made by the expedition that came before ours. On it was marked several areas where the expedition leader made comment of finding a strange metal shard. The notes I’ve gathered from that expeditions’ records don’t tell much, other than they left the Shards they found alone after losing several of their number to... unexplained events.”

“Unexplained events?”

“The records do not specify. Which is why I’ll need you to be careful, Leyshi. Very careful.”

“Broodmother? Are you saying you wish me to go back to the surface?” Leyshi asked, sounding both at once exhilarated, and terrified, her scent indicating both in almost equal measure.

“Yes, Leyshi. If these are the same Shards from the stories of Yiviravel, then they would be invaluable beyond measure. The prestige alone would elevate me in the eyes of the other Broodmothers, and would provide leverage to acquire more backing for our work here.” There was more to it than that, but no need to tell Leyshi things she did not need to know, yet, “I will entrust you with two eights, one of hunter-caste, another of spinner-caste. You will go to this... forest here, where the closest of the supposed Shards was located. Remove it if you can and bring it back here. Failing that, establish an outpost there so the Shard may be studied, regardless. There is a settlement of the pony surfacers nearby, but the forest is thick and hiding should not be difficult. I can trust you with this task, yes?”

Leyshi’s eagerness was stronger than her fear, as evidenced by not only the pheromones wafting off her, but her response of, “I will leave at once, if it pleases you, my Broodmother.”

Many might not think the large, lumbering bulk of an ursan could move quietly, with practiced, stalking stealth that used shadow and brush to hide its presence as much as softly padding paws, but Ulragnok had grown up as a cub hunting his own meals, much as many other young ursan braves. The vast mountain valleys and ravines, with their thick, towering pine forests, were his home, a place where the mountain streams sang in his blood and the feel of the land beneath him was as natural as the air he breathed.

The spiders, the things the ponies called ‘Lurkers’, had betrayed him. He did not know what boiled his blood more, the fact that he had been betrayed, or that he’d allowed it to happen by trusting the creatures in the first place. When he’d first been approached by the whispering voices in the night he’d been incredulous, yet they had promised him a rise to power, and had delivered. The arachnids had aided Ulragnok in defeating rival Chieftains, facilitated his rise to Warchief of his own horde and had promised to help even further with his intended assault upon the lands of the ponies. He had ignored the possibility that he was brokering a deal with a deadly force beyond his understanding. His people had tales of such creatures, the Demons Below, the Aranea. He had simply chosen to ignore those legends in favor of gaining glory. Now, the creatures he’d once allied with, the Aranea, sought to prey upon his people. Ulragnok was not one to suffer lightly upon indignity, nor betrayal. The Aranea would learn to their woe that even with his horde weakened, Ulragnok was still Warchief. Ulragnok was still dangerous.

He wished to vent his fury on the ponies that had broken his ambition to launch a glorious campaign deep into the heart of the Legion’s lands, but the Aranea had offered themselves as the far more immediate target. That, and Reganra insisted that the only way to save his hide from the wrath of the elders would slay the Aranea, to prove he was still worthy to lead his horde. Regarna seemed to think that this hunt for Aranea was the only thing holding what was left of his horde together, and damn her she seemed to be right. The defeat at Beartrap Fortress had reduced his horde from a glorious thousand braves, to something between five to six hundred. There’d been some desertions, but Ulragnok’s defeat of several challengers to his authority, and the new hunt for the Aranea, was keeping that matter in check, and with each ursan camp they passed Regarna was able to convince a few young braves to join the horde.

He still controlled more forces than any one Clan save the oldest in the high mountains, and while some of the braves in his horde still muttered as to his worthiness to lead, he knew at least the ones from his own Yellowtooth Clan remained utterly loyal. Still, it was a galling thing to think he’d still need to contend with such mutterings in the first place.

We should not have lost! It is the Aranea’s fault. They were supposed to support us, and instead abandoned the field without doing anything of use, he thought bitterly, though in truth he knew that his horde should have been more than enough on its own to crush the pony fortress of mud and wood. They’d outnumbered the ponies over two to one, and ursans never needed the advantage of numbers against the smaller, weaker ponies to begin with!

Yet the ponies had fought like mountain banshees. Or demons from the stories of old. Even Ulragnok had to give a small, exceedingly grudging mental nod of respect to how hard the ponies had defended their fortress, giving not an inch of ground without carpeting the land with a great offering of blood, both ursan and pony alike. He hated them, but was not blind to valor and strength when he saw it. The fortress still would have fallen. His horde, despite heavy losses, had pushed the ponies into the fortress’ inner keep by the morning after the eve the battle had started. The front gates of the keep had almost been breached, and the slaughter to come would have been glorious, but it’d been at that moment that the ponies received reinforcements, hundreds of fresh Legion troops that had somehow made the long march from another fortress in time to flank Ulragnok’s horde, taking it by surprise and causing a total route in short order.

A humiliation. A scar upon his honor and pride. Part of Ulragnok wanted nothing more than to end his life so he could escape his shame, but that was not the ursan way and he growled away such thoughts. If he could not have glory, then he would have vengeance. First the Aranea, then the ponies. Either way, Ulragnok would taste their blood and restore his pride.

The trees stirred with a harsh wind, and on that breeze Ulragnok heard the shrill whistle of a sparrow, three in short order. That was Regarna’s signal. Her half of the warband had circled around to the other end of the ravine ahead and were in position. Ulragnok allowed himself a feral smile, the black iron plates of the armor he wore over his dark furred bulk clanking as he abandoned stealth and rose to his full height, spans taller than most of his kind, the smallest of whom easily tripled the mass of the stoutest earth pony. Sucking in a deep breath Ulragnok let out a roaring bellow that shook the pine boughs around him and rattled loose rocks around the entire ravine.

Around him the twenty other ursans of his own half of the warband rose from their stalking spots and added their roars to the cacophony, and as one the group of mighty ursan braves charged into the ravine, smashing brush and low hanging branches like so much dead kindling along the way. Ulragnok was not surprised to hear the excited and rapid chittering noises from the depths of the ravine. They’d tracked the Aranea for some miles after the arachnid creatures had raided a camp of the Broken Claw Clan. This ravine was the exact kind of spot the Aranea favored, hidden from the sun with its high surrounding hills and thick pine trees providing cover from the daylight Ulragnok knew the Lurkers hated.

In moments Ulragnok and his braves broke through to a clearing that was encased in thick strands of web, strong as the rope and sticky to the touch, more so than the strongest tree sap. Ulragnok hit the webs like an avalanche made out of claws. While one or two of his braves were caught fast by the webs it was clear the webbing had been spun in order to catch small game, not halt an ursan charge. The sticky strands barely slowed the bearish creatures down as they roared into the clearing, where a group of Aranea were stirring to action like a writhing pile of limbs and fangs.

Ulragnok didn’t bother to count the Aranea’s numbers. There were at least a dozen of the small web spinning ones, and perhaps a little more than half that in the larger, hairy ones that clad their front legs in bladed gauntlets. Ulragnok had no time to pay attention to any more details as he smashed his way towards the first Aranea in his path, one of the spinners trying to attach web to the trees above and climb away. What the spinner found instead was Ulragnok’s paw, as large as the Aranea’s own body and sporting claws long as some pony swords, smashing down upon it. The spider crunched like a bag of wet leaves underneath Ulragnok’s claw, viscous goo splattering everywhere as the Aranea let out a shrill death shriek.

Beside Ulragnok his braves crashed in among the other Aranea’s, jaws snapping and claws slashing. To the Aranea’s credit despite losing several in the first few seconds, they spiders recovered rapidly and responded in a disturbingly organized fashion. The spinners fell back quickly while the eight larger hunters skittered about to form a tight, concave half circle formation to cover the spinner’s retreat. Legs bearing the curved, rune covered gauntlets raised, the hunters hissed, baring fangs, and moved as one to slowly fall back behind their spinner kin. Ulragnok and his braves advanced, and the hunter Aranea met them head on. Ulragknok saw one Aranea slash down with its gauntlets to neatly bury them into the shoulders of one of his braves, the ursan letting out a pained below as the gauntlets held it down and the Aranea surged forward to bury fangs into the brave’s neck.

Ulragnok rose to the challenge of his own foe, the Aranea attempt to do the same as its comrade had and bury its gauntlets in Ulragnok’s shoulders. However the ursan Warchief rose to his hind legs and lashed out with his own claws. His prodigious strength outmatched his opponent’s by a wide margin, his rippling muscles overpowering the strength in the Aranea’s limbs. Ulragnok’s claws crunched through chitin and the pulpy innards within, and snapped the Aranea’s legs backwards until they tore off completely. Ulragnok smashed down with most of his bulk then, all but liquefying the spider’s head.

Tossing the twitching body aside he sought his next kill. The Aranea that had bitten one of his braves now stood upon that brave’s twitching body, and with a mad chitter it turned and leaped at Ulragnok, so fast that the Warchief had little time to respond before the Aranea landed on his back. Ulragnok roared as he felt the things scrabbling legs working across his broad back, and felt searing pain as the spider’s bladed gauntlets bit at his flesh beneath the plates of his iron armor. Ulragnok rolled his shoulder, putting another of those plates between his hide and the Aranea’s fangs as it tried biting him. With a deep, reverberating growl Ulragnok threw his entire bulk into a swift, deadly roll. He felt the Aranea’s body crunch messily underneath him. Rising back to his paws after the roll he looked around to take stock.

His braves had finished the other of the hunter Aranea, the last one’s twitching remains slowly going still and its legs curling up in on itself. However Ulragnok was displeased to see that four of his own braves were also down, most of the frothing at the mouth and gasping their last breaths from the lethal venom of their spidery foes. Ursans weren’t used to taking anything close to even casualties in a fight. Their raw toughness and size usually meant it took three or four of their enemies to account for just one of them. These Aranea, with their fast reflexes and deadly fangs were dangerous opponents. Normally that might mean greater glory to be had in battle, but there seemed something inherently inglorious about killing these Aranea.

“Come, we still have things to kill,” Ulragnok growled, though his keen ears already picked up on he roars of Regarna and her warband, catching the fleeing spinners in her own ambush. He doubted there’d be anything left by the time he and his braves caught up.

Thirza did not like having to use his own for setting such a trap, but the location had been far too promising, and he knew that the thick minded ursans would behave as they had. The ravine was an ideal spot, its steep hills hiding countless unstable outcroppings of rock, just asking for the right tunnels to be dug to turn them into a deadly trap.

Guaranteeing the ursans would be in the ravine required bait. He’d assigned Nilishi and her eight of hunter-caste with an appropriate pair of eights from the spinner-caste to be that bait. Raiding one of the ursan camps near where Ulragnok’s horde made their own camp meant Ulragnok would come hunting, and the Warchief had not disappointed. While the ursan leader had not brought as much of his remaining horde as Thirza had hoped, it was enough. Enough to justify Nilishi’s sacrifice. He had given the young hunter orders to get out of the ravine as fast as possible, but Nilishi was impetuous and overeager, traits he was sure had just led to her death in that ravine.

Fortunately it would not be a death in vain, as Ulragnok was well inside the ravine. Another group of ursans were hidden at the mouth of the ravine on the opposite end Ulragnok had entered, and Thirza had to grudgingly complement the inelegant surface creatures on a well placed ambush. It was almost Aranea of them. He suspected that part had been the ursan female, Regarna’s, idea. She seemed to have a keener mind than most of her ilk. All the more reason to finish her off as well a Ulragnok. Both were a burr in his chitin, and it would be hard to follow Broodmother Chirziane’s orders to secure outposts in the region with the Wachief of the ursans still out for blood.

Well, that ends now, Thirza thought and gave a silent command through a burst of signaling pheromones to the three eighths of hunter-caste waiting for just that signal. The hunters all went into action as one whole, bladed gauntlets tearing into the ground with the smooth ease a fish cuts through the waves. Each hunter was at a key point along the top of a series of tunnels that had been pre-dug before the ursans had even been lured into the ravine, each location the final lode bearing piece of ground that would keep the tunnels from collapsing, and in turn, the rest of the ravine slope. In seconds the entire hillside shuddered. Thirza and his hunters rapidly retreated as a wave of shifting stones and broken earth came loose, and an engineered avalanche tore its way downward, ripping past more boulders to join the wave, and uprooting trees to add a deadly arrow of splintered trunks and branches to the falling deluge.

When Regarna felt the earth shift, she knew within seconds that she had to act, otherwise the entire warband would be lost. Ulragnok and his braves had smashed through the trees to join her and her own warriors in slaughtering the wretched spiders that tried to flee their ambush, but now it was clear it was all bait to draw them to this ravine. The ground shook and the noise of roaring rocks and shattering trees filled the air as the entire north slope came crushing towards them.

Ulragnok bellowed an order to fall back, but Reganra could tell they were still too deep into the ravine to outrun the avalanche, even if they were close to the eastern mouth. The only chance of survival lay in her. Drawing a deep breath, the female ursan dug dark furred paws deep into the ground and began to chant a rich, resonating song without words. Her blood sang along with her voice, touching on the spirit of the earth that lay dormant in every rock, twig, and leaf of the sacred mountains. Eyes closed, shutting out the noise of the oncoming rush of deadly rocks, she pour all of herself into her chant, imploring the earth to obey her will.

The earth tore and ripped beneath her paws, a great upwelling within the ground that rippled out from her like a wave. Behind her the ground dipped as the mass of the earth tipped upwards before her, creating a cresting incline like a sloped wall that spread in front of her in a sharp curving arc that surrounded her and the warband of ursans braves.

The avalanche hit the new slope, shuddering into it like two colliding waves, the froth of surf replaced with the crash of dirt and stone. The new slope Regarna had summoned sagged and buckled, but managed to hold firm against the avalanche. Within moments the dust had settled and the ravine had transformed, losing the top of one hill only to have a new, wider, flat topped hill formed from the rested earth of the avalanche up against the slope Regarna’s chanting had created.

Several seconds passed before the ursans, glad to not be crushed and buried beneath the earth, took up a series of joyful, mighty roars, lead by Ulragnok’s, whose roar eclipsed them all.

Regarna didn’t join in, too drained and exhausted to even lift her head. Chanting to the earth was not an art without cost, for the spirits of the land demanded their toll from the chanter who asked their aid. Regarna breathed deeply, gritting fangs as dizziness washed over her body as her lifeforce seeped out of her and into the earth, just enough to slake the thirsty spirits that had worked so hard for her to move that much dirt and stone.

“Well done, Earthsinger,” Ulragnok rumbled as he approached her, eyeing her as often he did with a mixture of wariness and grudging respect. Regarna snorted, as usual finding the Warchief a vexing male, yet one whose fate was inexorably now tied with hers.

She had chosen to follow Ulragnok’s horde because she too had chafed at the way the ursan Clans had of late been complacent and unengaged in its war with the ponies. Old territories, stolen by the Legion, had gone unreclaimed, and a young generations of braves were growing up without any of the battle experience that had made their predecessors feared. Regarna had seen what looked like the very edge of a deep chasm, a chasm in which the ursan races decline began with the dying embers of old battles. Ulragnok’s ambitions intrigued her, and the fact that he’d rapidly garnered a horde of young followers had inspired Regarna to join his intended campaign against the ponies.

It wasn’t until the battle at Beartrap Fortress that she’d discovered the presence of the Demons Below, the Aranea of old legend, now flesh and blood and a force that Ulragnok had foolishly tied himself to. The only way to undo the damage that allowing the Aranea to gain a foothold on the surface caused was to push them back to their shadowed realm beneath the surface.

Perhaps then Grandmother wouldn’t tear both her and Ulragnok’s heads off and mount their skulls on the long, frosty steps to Stonehome. Ulragnok already knew she was an Earthsinger, one whose blood sang with the old powers to speak with the earth spirits. He didn’t know just how strong that blood was, or who she was related to. Best to keep it that way for now. He'd learn the truth eventually, but it'd do him little good of both of them were facing the wrath of her Grandmother. Destroying the plans of the Aranea was paramount in ensuring survival, for a multitude of reasons. While a part of her liked to think she was intent on defeating the Aranea purely for noble reasons of protecting her race, protecting her hide was a large portion of it, too.

Regarna knew she couldn't show her face in Stonehome, the ancestral den of all the ursan Clans, without first fixing the damage she’d helped cause. Perhaps Ulragnok himself could be salvaged as well. His pride and rage still seemed to cloud his actions, but at least he did not argue with the need to eliminate his former allies.

“We must continue to track the Demons,” she said plainly, brushing off Ulragnok’s compliment. “Somewhere in these foothills they must have a den. Finding it and destroying it is our highest concern.”

Ulragnok growled low, “I decide our concerns, Earthsinger... but you are right. As long as these cursed spiders can scuttle into the shadows I cannot claim a decisive victory.”

There was little doubt that the Aranea that had caused the avalanche had already fled. The spiders seemed to have little stomach for upfront battles. Always they liked to strike from ambush, or with overwhelming numbers. That was why they seemed to keep targeting the smaller Clan camps, snatching smaller, younger ursan cubs where they could, much as they had at the most recent camp. Regarna knew part of it had to be bait to keep drawing Ulragnok into traps like this, but she also suspected this was part of a larger plan the Demons Below were concocting.

“I shall sing to the stone and see if they left traces of where they’ve gone,” she said, “Best we first rejoin the horde.”

“Again with you trying to give orders,” Ulragnok grumbled.

“Not orders. Suggestions,” she said, rumbling with her own irritated growl, “Remember Warchief, that I have every reason to want to see you succeed. I don’t care to lead your horde, only keep it from splintering out from under you.”

Ulragnok snorted, turning with a heavy clanking of iron plates, and started to bellow orders for his braves to form up and begin marching.

Blossomforth wiped sweat off her brow as she and one of her new Underwatch comrades finished loading and securing the last crate on a shipment of supplies that would be joining them on the journey back to the Western Barrier Lands. The tight confines of the airship cargo hold was stuffy and warm, filled with dust that itched her nose. Stretching, she let out a quick yawn. “Aaah, can’t wait until we’re in the air. The breeze is gonna be nice.”

The pony who’d been helping her load the crate gave her an odd look, not quite frowning, but more searching. She was an older unicorn mare, with a muddy brown coat and braised mane. Sergeant Wildspell was, in Blossomforth’s opinion, grossly misnamed, for she seemed to be rather subdued and taciturn. They’d barely exchanged more than two sentences, enough for Blossomforth to learn the other mare’s name, and little else. She was hoping to fix that with all her new friends. Well, perhaps ‘friends’ was too optimistic a word for it right now, but they were all going to be fighting side by side, so Blossomforth saw no reason to wait on getting to know her fellow Underwatch ponies.

“So, um, do you do any neat spells? I mean, besides the standard issue Legion explodey stuff?” she asked with an encouraging smile.

“...No.”

“Oh. How about hobbies? What do you do for fun when you're not being assigned to go hunt giant spiders beneath the earth’s surface?”

Wildspell stared at her, then slowly finished tightening the ropes securing the crate they’d just stowed. There was no sarcasm in her tone, nor the acid of scorn, when she said, “Don’t try so hard.”

“Huh?”

“Don’t try so hard,” Wildspell repeated, turning away and trotting towards the hatch at the bow of the airship that led out of the cargo hold, “But since you asked, I brewed hooch for my old unit. Sometimes.”

Blossomforth moved to follow her, unconsciously trying to take to the air. The stumps where her wings were meant to be twitched uselessly as she made an awkward hop into the air, squeaked in surprise, and almost fell flat on her face if not for Wildspell catching her with a gentle aura of white magic. Blossomforth’s face burned furiously in embarrassment as she said, “Thanks, uh, guess I keep forgetting they’re gone. Here’s hoping nopony falls overboard on the trip otherwise I might toss myself over the side too thinking I’ll catch them.”

Wildspell just looked at her, a faint trace of sympathy in her eyes that was only there for a second before she set Blossomforth down and her horn stopped glowing. “You’ll be fine. You survived losing them. You’ll survive living without them.”

“Yeah, here’s hoping,” Blossomforth said as they exited the airship, trotting down the bow boarding ramp to where the majority of the rest of the Underwatch platoon was gathering with their own saddlebags of supplies. They’d all been helping with loading the cargo, Blossomfoth and Wildspell had just happened to be the ones to load the last crate. The airship, a sizeable craft with a near two hundred foot long balloon, would be departing within the hour.

The airship was docked at a stone platform adjoining one of the higher terraces of Canterlot’s nobel district. It offered a rather spectacular view down the mountainside to the cloud speckled green valleys below. The sight tightened Blossomforth’s chest with nostalgic homesickness, and she hadn’t even left yet. She wondered how long it would be before they returned, assuming they ever did. She wasn’t merely thinking about her prospects for survival. There was no guarantee the Underwatch would return to the Equestrian Heartland even if their mission was successful. They would likely end up being deployed somewhere else in the Barrier Lands.

Blossomforth shook her head, banishing any negative thoughts that’d just drag her down. She’d always prided herself on keeping an upbeat attitude no matter how bad the circumstances, and while a mere few months ago she’d never have imagined her life being anything like it was now, having seen and taken part in violence beyond what she could have imagined, she resolved to face it with as much of a smile as she could muster.

Casting about for her friends, Blossomforth spotted Coco and Allie Way standing off to the side speaking with a willowy green stallion with a thin, short copper colored mane. He was an earth pony, but unlike most the earth ponies in the unit who wore heavy armor of plate and chainmail, he wore a much lighter looking, thick leather coat covered in metal studs. On his face was perched a pair of spectacles, and he had a thin mustache and neatly trimmed beard. A broad bladed but short machete was sheathed at his side, quite unlike the large claymore Coco wore, or the thick striking gauntlets many of the other earth ponies equipped themselves with.

As she approached Blossomforth heard the stallion speaking to Allie Way, his voice smokey and light, like somepony who found a joke in everything, “Don’t fret if you don’t know the rules, darling. I’ll be happy to teach you and all your friends how Scales works, and if we switch it up later in the evening to another game, I’ll explain as we go. It’s a good way to break you girls in, not to mention get everypony loosened up. I swear everypony’s got their sphincters clenched so tight I could smell the gas build up a hundred yards away.”

“Hey guys, what’s up?” Blossomforth asked, coming up and glancing around at her friends and the stallion, who smiled thinly at her, green eyes glittering.

“Ah, you must be Blossomforth. Read up on the reports of you mares’ adventure with our errant not-so-mythological spiders and I must say I was impressed,” the stallion said, holding a hoof out, “I’m Corporal Snakebite, formerly of the 21st Southern Barrier Lands Regiment under Captain Riverford. A pleasure to see another fine mare in this new unit. After spending months sucking venom out of idiot stallions’ rears ends down south I’m relieved to see I’ve been roped into a more... diverse platoon.”

Blossomforth shook his hoof, raising an eyebrow, “Pleasures mine. Uh, are all southern units made up of dudes or something?”

“Not at all, but in the Southern Barrier Lands there can be some long deployments in the jungles keeping a watch on the bloody snakes, and command figured out long ago that year long patrols with units with mixed male and female compliments tended to lead to complications in the field. Suffice to say more than a few units returned to base with a few extra mouths to feed because some ponies can’t be expected to keep it under their tails when beating the jungle for a year straight.”

Blossomforth blinked, then snorted out a laugh, “Oh! Hah! Yeah, I guess some ponies might get a little hot under the tail if they’re stuck together that long. No funny ideas here, I assume?”

Snakebite shook his head, “Oh no, I’m the soul of a gentlestallion, but it shouldn’t be an issue anyway. From what I understand our deployments won’t be for much longer than a month or two. Even if somepony did give into their base urges, we’d be back to base before it became an issue.”

Allie Way gulped, “Don’t suppose we can change the subject?”

“What were you guys talking about before I showed up?” asked Blossomforth.

“The Corporal was inviting us to join in a card game tonight once we’re in the air,” said Coco, looking at him with a measuring gaze, “He’s been nice enough to offer to teach us the rules of some Legion games. It might be a good way to break the ice with the whole unit, and get to know everypony.”

“My thoughts on the matter precisely,” said Snakebite, “We’re all strangers here for the most part. Every mare and stallion has been drawn from other units across all the Barrier Lands, plus you girls from here in the Heartland. Nothing like some friendly game nights and wagers to get everypony acquainted. Those that’ll play anyway.”

“Sounds fun to me!” said Blossomforth with a happy smile, and Snakebite also smiled, thinly.

“You struck me as the kind as the enthusiastic sort. I’ll try not to take unkind advantage,” he said with a bit of friendly sarcasm as he winked, “No promises, though.”

At the edge of the platform Trixie stood alongside Coldiron, gazing out at the vast scene of verdant green and cerulean blue that made up where the land collided with the sky to form the horizon. If Trixie squinted through the wisps of cloud and picked out the dots among the carpet of greenery she could make out where Ponyville was located. Such a small place it seemed, to have occupied so much of her thoughts before the Legion. Now it really did seem distant, just a speck on a much larger world.

For some reason Trixie felt oddly certain she’d never return to that town as she’d once intended.

“Not sure I like seeing you looking contemplative,” said Coldiron, “It’s an odd look for you.”

Trixie gave her a sidelong glance, “What, I can’t take some time to just think about things?”

“No, it’s fine. It merely reminds me that you Heartlanders are dealing with a lot of changes to your view of the world, more so, perhaps, than we of the Barrier Lands. Indeed that whole perception of separation is going to have to change, and it’s going to involve a fair amount of contemplation on all of our parts,” said Coldiron.

“What’s to contemplate?” asked a hard voice, and both mares turned to see the obsidian form of Blackwall standing a few paces from them, also gazing out at the Equestrian landscape. Her face held a hard look about it, not unlike the solid platemail she wore over her bulky frame. “This land was ours to protect, and now because of betrayal our purpose as the Legion has been... tainted.”

“It's not that simple, Blackwall,” said Coldiron, not without a certain amount of understanding in her voice, “The Legion's task is the same as it ever was, only now we are not alone in that task."

"We were meant to be alone," stated Blackwall, bluntly, "The defender on the wall ceases to be a defender if she calls for aid from the homes behind her."

"But if the wall falls to the enemy, because the lone defender refused to accept aid, then what will be left to defend?" Coldiron retorted.

Blackwall grunted, seemingly unimpressed or convinced, but she also didn’t specifically gainsay Coldiron either. She just kept gazing at the sights of Equestria beneath the vast Canterlot mountain, as if she was trying to puzzle out what it was. Before long Windstriker joined the gathered ponies and called the unit to attention. Trixie and Coldiron trotted alongside Blackwall to join their fellow Underwatch ponies as Windstriker took a headcount to make sure everypony was present, then went about getting them boarded on the airship.

By now Trixie was used to following orders and went through the ease of motions to proceed to her directed bunk, one of a dozen along the port side of the ship’s second deck, and stowed her saddlebags within the small space beneath the canvas covered pallet. She suspected it wouldn’t make for a comfortable spot to sleep, but then again she’d been sleeping on the ground since she was old enough to pull a cart from town to town for her magic shows, so that didn’t bother her much. What did bother her was that Blackwall was assigned the bunk right ahead of hers and the mare kept giving her hard looks out of the corner of her eye.

Finishing stowing her gear, Trixie heaved out a sigh and shot back a glare at Blackwall, “Must we do this?”

“Do what?” the large mare muttered.

“I already went through this song and dance with Coldiron when we first met. She didn’t like me much either. I’d prefer to not repeat the whole scenario. Trixie...ugh, I have already proven myself. My fellow Heartlanders have already proven ourselves.”

“That's not the issue,” said Blackwall plainly, sucking in a deep breath and then heaving it all out in a sigh, “You did fight at Beartrap Fortress. I did read the reports. I understand that, among all the Heartlanders we’re bringing into the Legion you mares are some of the few who were either lucky enough or actually had the mettle somewhere inside to hold your own. But that doesn’t change the fact that the Legion should never have come to the Heartland. Not because you Chosen are weak. Not because you Chosen couldn't fight. But because you don't belong in the fight. Protecting the Heartland was our purpose in the Legion. Its a purpose we fulfilled faithfully for our Prince for generations." Raw anger entered Blackwall's voice, but it wasn't directed at Trixie, "But because of a flaming traitor the entire purpose of the Legion has been betrayed. Losing the Barrier, unifying with the Heartland... it's a mistake. A mistake that will kill the Legion.”

“Why? Why would you even think that?” Trixie asked, surprised.

“Because I can already see it changing us from our purpose,” Blackwall said, “Bit by bit I can already see Legionnaires accepting things as they are, adapting to the change. In another generation, there won't be any distinction between us and you...” A raw sense of pain entered her voice, if only for an instant, "And that will be the end of the Legion."

After that outburst Blackwall went silent, not that Trixie was all that eager to pry any more out of the other mare. Trixie herself wasn’t sure what to think of what Blackwall had said. Perhaps the Legion would benefit from incorporating some more Equestrian morals and ideals of peace into its culture, but if Trixie actually thought it through, considering what she’d seen of threats like the ursans and Lurkers, would it actually be a good thing if the Legion became, as Blackwall feared, integrated with the Heartland to the point where one couldn't be distinguished from the other?

Trixie was no fan of warfare. In fact she found it terrifying and generally horrific. Yet she’d come to respect the Legionnaires she’d once despised, having seen the threats they faced every day to protect their fellow ponies. Even a surly mare like Blackwall put her life on the line so others wouldn’t have to. In time, if the Barrier Lands and Heartland cultures started to fully blend together, would that mixture end up making the whole weaker, or stronger? Trixie didn’t know, but it certainly gave her mind something to chew on as the airship cut its moors and slowly drifted on a warm wind away from Canterlot, making its way slowly south across the azure Equestrian sky.

Chapter 3: Victor's Cliff

Chapter 3: Victor’s Cliff

“Okay, I think I’ve got it. Do you have any fours?” Blossomforth asked, pointing at the other pegasus mare at the table. Quickaim just cracked a thin grin.

"Another miss, rookie. Now toss me your highest card.”

“Dang it!” Blossomforth said, pulling out the queen of spades from her hoof of cards and tossing it Quickaim’s way, who caught it deftly with a wing and tucked it among her own cards.

To the left of her, Snakebite rattled a rich laugh, “I keep telling you, pay more attention to who's taking what from whom, darling.”

“Trixie does not... I mean, I still do not grasp the point of this game,” Trixie said, peering at the piles of cards both on the table and floating before her in a aura of magic. “These rules are utterly baffling. It's like you’ve stitched together the worst parts of Go Fish and Old Mares together then decided to use every esoteric rule from Bridge to form an unholy amalgam of a card game designed purely for the purpose of torturing souls into madness.”

“Welcome to Southern Barrier Lands logic,” said Coldiron, frowning at both her hoof of cards, very pointedly not being levitated by her magic but instead held in her hooves, “I prefer good, old fashioned poker.”

Snakebite scoffed, “Poker? Foals play. Scales is a sophisticated game for intelligent minds to hone their skills of observation, memorization, risk assessment, and-”

“And wasting time,” muttered Blackwall, “Is somepony going to take their turn or are we going to bellyache all night?”

“Of course my dear,” said Snakebite, flipping over a card on the set in front of him on the table, “Blackwall, you don’t happen to have any tens?”

Blackwall grunted, snatching a pair of tens from her hand and tossing them at Snakebite, who grinned toothily. Chuckling, another pony at the table, a unicorn stallion with ginger fur and a short cut black mane said with a yawn, “Assuming we’re on time, does anypony even know what we expect to find in Victor’s Cliff?”

“Weren’t there stories of Lurkers there? I thought the Captain said that,” said Allie Way, frowning at her own cards, turning them this way and that as if unsure of just how to hold them.

“Not exactly a lot to go on, is it?” said the ginger unicorn, leaning one elbow on the table and plopping his chin in his hoof, tail swishing behind him in an irritable twitch, “Lack of intel makes me nervous.

“You’re always nervous, Coalburn.” said Blackwall.

“You two know each other?” asked Trixie. Before Blackwall could answer, Coalburn spoke up, making a sour look with his face.

“Blackwall and me were both stationed at the same fort in the North. Been on a few patrols together, but we were separate platoons, technically.”

“And on each patrol you never failed to say something along the lines of, ‘I got a bad feeling about this’ or ‘ we don’t have enough intel,” said Blackwall, “I assumed you did that just to make sure that when things did inevitably go wrong, you could claim to have predicted it.”

“Nothing quite like being able to say ‘I told you so’,” said Coalburn, licking his lips as he peered at his cards, “But seriously, I do have a bad feeling about this. We are entirely too blind to be rushing into deployment this fast.”

“What would you have us do?” asked Coldiron, “Wait until the Lurkers do to another town what they did to Arrow Vale? We can’t sit on our tails and just let the spiders do as they please.”

“Probably could have waited until we had more muscle to throw at the problem than just us,” said Coalburn, “I mean, seriously, even if we do dig up some Lurkers, which is a big if at this point, what’s one platoon going to accomplish?”

“We were but one squad and we were able to face the Lurkers readily enough,” said Trixie, rather avoiding mentioning that during that initial encounter beneath Arrow Vale that she and her friends had also had help from the local villagers, and had actually had to flee from just one of the larger Lurkers.

“We’ll deal with whatever requires dealing with,” said Coldiron firmly, “And we won’t know anything until we reach Victor’s Cliff.”

“How long until we get there?” asked Blossomforth, “Nice as it is to be in the air again, its weirdly uncomfortable now that... well...” she wiggled her wing stumps, “If the ship decides to crash I’m suddenly a lot less able to survive it.”

“How do you think I feel? I never could fly, and here I am in a contraption coasting along hundreds of feet in the air,” said Snakebite, “Far as I’m concerned we can’t get back to solid ground fast enough. As to the question, depends on the winds, but I’d guess at least another day.”

“Are you all still playing this?” asked a tired looking Seeker as he poked his head through the hatch to their sleeping quarters,. “Haven’t at least one of you lost enough bits to quit?”

“We’re not playing for bits, sadly,” said Snakebite, “Wouldn’t be fair to the rookies, would it?”

Seeker perked up and eyebrow, “What’s the point then?”

Blossomforth waved back at him, smiling, “Getting to know each other, of course! Why don’t you join us?”

Seeker tilted his head, regarding Blossomforth for a moment before saying, “Thanks for the offer, but I’d rather not. I was just going to get some fresh air up on the deck.”

With that he trotted off, Trixie quirking an eyebrow at his departure. “Do you think we woke him up?”

Blossomforth shrugged, “Eh, we were getting kinda loud. And it is getting pretty late. Maybe we ought to call it and all get some shut eye? Not that I wasn’t really enjoying this and all.”

“You were losing spectacularly,” said Blackwall bluntly.

“Hey, you can have fun and lose at the same time,” said Blossomforth, and the look on Blackwall’s face could not have further communicated the extent to which she didn’t grasp what Blossomforth meant. Coldiron coughed, setting her cards down.

“I’ll second the notion of sleep. We’ll need all the rest we can get.”

“A shame to close things down with the night so young, but perhaps that’s coming from my nocturnal persuasion,” said Snakebite, yawning, “Regardless, it's been a pleasure ladies.”

Coalburn gave him a short glare, to which Snakebite chuckled and added, “Ladies and Coalburn.”

As cards were put away and ponies started shuffling off to their pallets, Blossomforth stretched and glanced towards the door to the hallway running the length of the ship. Allie Way paused beside her, looking at Blossomforth curiously. “Not going to bed?”

“Eh, I know I suggested it, but I’m not quite tired enough yet to do more than toss about,” she said, “Might go up on deck and get some fresh air too”

Allie Way looked at her oddly for a moment, perhaps worried, but just nodded, “Okay, well, goodnight then.”

Blossomforth trotted out, following the hallway back to a wider area with stairs that led up to the hatch to the top deck. The air up there was sharply chilly, and caused her wing stumps to reflexively move as if to shroud her body with her wings to keep warm. Instead all Blossomforth could do was shiver. While it was already more than an hour since sundown and the sky was dark, there was still plenty of light from both the stairs in a largely cloudless sky and the bright expanse of Luna’s moon. It made getting around the deck without tripping over anything easy enough.

There were several Legion crewponies on deck, either performing watch duties or keeping the ship properly steered through the night, but none of them bothered the Underwatch members, either Blossomforth or Seeker. She spotted the earth pony pacing around the starboard side of the ship. He turned a questioning look her way as she approached.

“I’m not interested in joining the game, if that’s what you came up here for,” he said.

“Huh? Oh, no, we decided to call it. Get some sleep and all that.”

“I don’t see you sleeping,” Seeker pointed out.

“I’m, uh, having trouble sleeping these days,” Blossomforth said, “Just too much excitement, you know?”

He stared at her for a moment, then turned away to look out over the nighttime landscape passing slowly beneath them. His nose twitched, “We’re heading into some foul weather.”

She came up beside him, glancing at the horizon. She didn’t see a trace of clouds, but she sniffed at the air anyway. Plenty of humidity, bit of a hint of something acrid. “Hmm, might be right. Used to be on my hometown’s weather patrol, and sometimes the Everfree got a scent like this. Means rain, thunder.”

“Weather patrol?” Seeker face grew more relaxed, and curiosity painted his thin features.

“Yeah, you know, busting clouds, moving clouds, uh... shaping clouds? Pretty much anything involving clouds you can think of. We’re responsible for the ruination of sunny days and creating picture perfect picnic weather alike!”

“To what purpose?” he asked, “Who decides if a day deserves bad weather or not?”

To that Blossomforth opened her mouth... closed it. Tilted her head in thought, then said, “You know, I never did ask where we got our instructions from. The weather administration department? I don’t even know if that’s a thing, but I think I saw that on one of the reports at the weather patrol station, once. Huh, weird, I never actually questioned why we regulated the weather the way we did. So, not like that out here?”

“The weather is beyond our control,” Seeker said, a rough note entering his tone, “If we could, it’d make the Legion’s battles a hundred times easier. Imagine what we could do if we could make it snow or rain at will?” He frowned in puzzlement, “Just how do you do it in the Heartland?”

Blossomforth shrugged, “I don’t know, we just... do. I guess all of your weather out here is like the Everfree back home. That forest has always had weather with a will of its own. Guess our control of the weather was just another gift Princess Celestia tossed our way.”

Seeker abruptly snorted a laugh, and Blossomforth gave him a sidelong look, “What? What’s so funny?”

“Nothing. It’s just, I have a hard time imagining what your ‘Princesses’ are like, and all I could try to conjure in my head to match was a female version of Prince Terrato,” He gave another snort, as if he didn’t actually know what a laugh was supposed to sound like, “It was not a pleasant mental picture.”

“So, you’ve seen this Prince Terry?”

To that question Seeker made more a choking sound, “Prince Terry?”

“Err, Terrato, sorry. So, um, have you ever seen him? I kind of try to wonder what he looks like too, same as you wonder about Princess Celestia, and all I can think of is a male Celestia... huh... which now that i’m thinking about it is kinda hot.”

Seeker rubbed his head as if trying to expunge a headache, “Strange. You are beyond strange. At any rate, yes I’ve seen the Prince. Not met him in any capacity, but seen him when he visited Bastion City.”

“What’s he like?”

“...Why do you ask?”

“I dunno, I guess I’ve just been thinking a lot lately about the Princesses, and why they decided to separate us all in the first place,” Blossomforth said, gazing at the land. Despite the dark expanse, she could make out the silvery ribbons of rivers passing through thickening hills, and the orange flickers from a few villages that still had ponies awake. She thought they were still in the Heartland, but approaching the southwest edge of what was once commonly thought of as ‘Equestria’, before reaching the Barrier Lands. She sighed, “I wonder what things would be like if that never happened. If we had all stayed together, you know? One herd.”

Seeker’s expression softened to one of reserved contemplation, also looking out over the land. Eventually he shook his head, heaving out a sigh. “There’s no point thinking about that. There’s no changing the past, and you can barely change the future.”

“That’s pretty bleak.”

“Yeah, but it’s honest,” he said, rubbing at his eyes, and turning away from the edge of the deck, "Anyway, to answer your question... Prince Terrato isn't really an easy one to describe. He's the foundation the Legion has built itself upon. Everything we are, we owe to him. Makes it hard to think about him as anything other than a figure larger than life, you know? Is it the same for you with your Princesses?"

Blossomforth thought about it for a moment, then found herself saying, "I think so. Princess Luna didn't return to us until recently, but for a thousand years Princess Celestia has been this beacon we've all looked towards to guide us. A foundation, like you said with your Prince. I don't know, she always seemed to try to be... accessible, though? I met her when she came to Ponyville a few times, and while everypony was making a big deal of it, and she had those Royal Guards of hers around, I just got the feeling she was trying to connect with us. Did you ever feel the same with Prince Terrato?"

Seeker gave a sardonic, wry smile, "I don't know if I'd use the word 'connect', exactly, but the Prince has always shown the Legion respect for the tasks we do."

"Hmm... I hope with the reunification, with him being with his sisters again, that things will get better." Blossomforth said, leaning on the railing and twitching her wing stumps with an unconscious want to feel some of the breeze on her now nonexistent feathers.

Seeker watched her a few seconds, then said, “You usually sleep on your back?”

“Huh?” she blinked at him, “What brought that up?”

He nodded at her back with a grim look, “Your wings. That’s why you’re having trouble sleeping, right? Used to having them there to balance you while you lay on your back?”

“I... yes. That’s how I used to sleep. Now all I feel are these stumps. It makes it really hard to relax,” she said with a small gulp.

“Try your stomach then. Even the sides, you’ll feel the stumps,” he said, looking away from her, “My sister lost a wing in the line of duty a few years back. Had the same problem. Had to switch to sleeping on her stomach to be able to get a decent night’s sleep again.”

Blossomforth just watched him in the dark for a few moments, a bit taken aback, but then she managed a warm smile, “Thanks. I’ll try that. Umm... I guess I’ll leave you be. I know I can chatter at ponies a lot.”

He just shrugged at that, “I’m usually not this talkative either. Good night, Blossomforth.”

“Night, Seeker.”

She wasn’t really sure if he cracked a smile or not as she left, but she decided to imagine one on him anyway as she went back down to the bunk area and crawled into her pallet, wiggling onto her stomach. It felt odd, perhaps a bit uncomfortable at first, but at least she didn’t have to feel the stumps on her back, and before long she was pulling away to a drifting, dreamless sleep.

Coco’s first view of Victor’s Cliff was of an old, partially crumbled stone watchtower built upon the top of the cliff that gave the town its name. The sky was overcast and dusted with heavier, gray clouds, some of which looked ready to burst with rain, and the air was filled with a mild chill that just managed to edge out into being uncomfortable, especially with the breeze of the moving airship.

Beyond the cliff was a wide, steep valley leading to a wide, swift flowing river less than half a mile to the west. To the south and covering much of the rough, rolling landscape, was an exceedingly thick and dark looking forest of towering pines. A road twisted through the hills to the north and passed through the town itself, bending around the edge of the cliff to move back eastward. A map Coco had seen of the region told her that road edged around the southern forest until it bent back around westward to continue on towards further towns and Legion forts in that direction.

Victor’s Cliff itself was a fair sized town, a bit larger than Ponyville by Coco’s estimate in terms of area covered, and much larger in terms of buildings as the tall wood structures of Victor’s Cliff were far more tightly packed than the Equestrian town Coco was comparing it to. There were a few smaller, one story buildings, made of thick logs, but most of the town’s buildings were at least two or three stories tall, if somewhat thin and compact looking. The town was walled, which didn’t surprise Coco by this point as she knew this was the norm for settlements in the Barrier Lands. From what she’d understood from the briefing Windstriker had given them earlier that morning, the town didn’t normally have a Legion presence, but did have its own militia, and there was a Legion fort about twenty miles to the south in case the Underwatch needed to call for aid.

Coco could see ponies trotting around the packed dirt streets of the town, many of them looking up as the shadow of the airship passed by overhead. Beside her Trixie put her hooves up on the railing and looked over, her one good eye keenly observing the town.

“Well, Trixie sees ponies walking around in the open and no signs of horrific spiders overrunning the streets, so perhaps this will go better than our last visit to a Barrier Lands town.”

Coco managed a small half smile, “It would be nice if we didn’t have to deal with any violence this time around.”

“You don’t sound hopeful,” Trixie said, glancing at Coco sidelong. Coco didn’t know what Trixie was talking about. She was entirely hopeful of avoiding any unneeded violence. Technically their job was just to investigate for now, so it was entirely possible there wouldn’t be any fighting, which Coco would infinitely prefer over the alternative.

“I don’t know what you mean, Trixie. I was being serious,” she said, a bit defensively.

“Trixie may have imagined it, it just seemed that you had this look on your face that said you didn’t believe our mission would be a milk run,” Trixie said with a shrug, “Perhaps Trixie was mistaken.”

“At any rate, didn’t Coldiron say you should work on not doing the whole third-person thing?” Coco said, wanting to change the subject. Trixie gave a quick snort, flipping her mane.

“Trixie will do so when needed, but among friends she can still talk as herself, yes?”

Coco thought about that for a second, then nodded, “I suppose so, yeah. Anyway, we should be landing soon. We’d best find the others.”

The Underwatch was currently platoon sized, just totaling just over twenty ponies, with Captain Windstriker making the total twenty one. Normally such a unit would break up into squads, but in this case Windstriker was running things more loosely. There was no official squad assignments, and instead Windstriker had appointed three ponies to be her right hooves; Seeker, Quickaim, and Snakebite. Coco noticed the fact that each of these three seemed to represent one of the Barrier Lands; west, north, and south. In the field these right hoof ‘field lieutenants’, which was more title than rank, would be able to command the rest of them, snatching anypony up on the fly to form a squad in case the platoon needed to split up to tackle different tasks.

The entire platoon was up on deck by this point, some doing double checks on their gear while others, like Coco and Trixie, had been observing the airship’s approach to Victor’s Cliff. Coco found Coldiron speaking in low tones to a tall unicorn stallion with a prominent chin, and a tangled mop of red mane that contrasted sharply with a plain beige coat of fur. At Coco and Trixie’s approach the stallion cut off what he was saying and stepped back, watching the two with guarded eyes. Coco noted that he wasn’t wearing the normal battlemage leather coat most unicorns of the Legion bore, but instead was largely unarmored save for a pair of metal backed leather gauntlets and shoulder guards. The rest of his outfit looked like a simple, white cloth overcoat, with multiple sewed in pockets that bulged with contents.

“Ah, Private Pommel, Private Lulamoon,” Coldiron said with a formal tone, “I don’t know if you two have met Corporal Heimlich. He’s our medical specialist.”

“I thought that Snakebite fellow was the local medic?” asked Trixie, to which Heimlich himself responded, with a faint accent that Coco couldn’t place.

“Corporal Snakebite ist a skilled field medic. I am not field medic, but surgeon. Snakebite can treat minor wounds, but if you take spear to belly, fraulein, it is I who must open you up and stitch your innards closed.” He inclined his head to both mares, “Try not to make too much work for me, da?”

“We’ll certainly try not to, Corporal,” said Coco, returning his nod, “Um, pardon my asking, but you sound like you’re from Germaneigh, but that’s a Heartland territory, right?”

Heimlich shrugged his shoulders, “I hail from easternmost region of North Barrier Lands, and this ist how ponies talk there, at least most common among noble families.”

“You’re a noble?” Trixie sounded odd to Coco’s ears, like something was troubling her. Coco glanced at Trixie, and the mare seemed normal enough, just with a slight nervous twitch to one of her ears. Heimlich didn’t notice, and just looked at Trixie flatly.

“Fourth son, not close to being heir, but medical work considered... unworthy of family name. So I join Legion, since they know value of medical profession. I do what I feel I am best at, and family doesn’t need to think of me any longer. Win for all concerned.”

“Yes, well, Corporal Heimlich was just giving me some advice on my horn’s condition,” said Coldiron, one hoof rubbing at the cracked appendage on her forehead, “Apparently he’s rather worried about it.”

Heimlich’s eyes flashed with something resembling professional outrage, “For good reason. Cracked horn ist no laughing matter. You can still cast spells, but far too easy to forget limits now, to overstrain and make cracks worse. Too much magic and...” he held up a hoof to his own horn and then made a sharp gesture, “Boom! No more horn, no more you. Very messy. Even i could not stitch up mess after that. So you listen to my good advice and limit spells to bare necessity.”

“I’ll be careful, rest assured of that,” said Coldiron, “I have no intention of burning myself out. I’m no good to the Legion dead.”

Heimlich nodded, “Just so.”

“How is she even supposed to know how much is too much?” said Trixie, frowning, and sounding genuinely worried.

“Because it shall hurt like sonuvabitch,” stated Heimlich bluntly.

“Yeah, all I have to do is pay attention when it feels like my heads about to explode, because that’s pretty much exactly what will happen,” said Coldiron. At the heel of her words there was a noticeable shift in the ship, the deck shifting beneath their hooves as the vessel started to tilt slightly downward as it began its landing descent.

Crewponies scrambled about, preparing the ship for landing, and the Underwatch ponies mostly tried to stay out of the way at that point. Coco spotted Blossomforth and Allie Way and waved the two over, and the all watched as a group as the airship made landfall at Victor’s Cliff. The space the crew chose to land at was a relatively open area of grassy field to the north and east of the town, directly between the town and the nearby river. Anchoring ropes with heavy weights attached to them were tossed overboard to ground the craft, while ponies hauled on the ropes to help the ship adjust the last few meters of landing so that the keel of the ship’s hull could lightly rest on several large wooden struts on the grassy ground.

Multiple boarding ramps were extended from opening hatches, one on either flank of the hull and one from the rear cargo area. Windstriker, flying aloft with quick wing flaps, quickly got the platoon organized and disembarking. Each Underwatch pony carried a set of saddlebags laden with gear, not only their own personal kit but extra equipment for the platoon as a whole, mostly extra rations. The airship was to remained docked for the day, as the crew was also going to unload cargo for the town, and perhaps more importantly, deliver news and take some time to mingle with the townsponies, who’d be eager to hear tales from the rest of the realm.

Coco found herself lined up with the rest of platoon with Windstriker at the head, leading them on a swift march to the town gates. A distant peal of thunder promised the soon to be coming rain and she shivered. Beside her Trixie was staring at the massive woods outside the town, and Coco found her own gaze following the other mare’s. From a distance the woods had looked normal enough, if perhaps far more thick than what Coco was used to seeing... now that she was on land and looking at the woods more closely they had a distinctly bleak and foreboding aura to them. Each pine tree looked like a dark sentinel, towering into the sky with wide branches that made Coco think of claws. She noticed light didn’t seem to reach far under those ominous boughs.

“Oh, we’re going to have to go in there at some point, aren’t we?” she found herself asking.

“Trixie lays it at good odds, yes, considering most the stories possibly relating to Lurkers in this town are about that forest,” said Trixie, face set with grim determination, “Trixie, however, has no intention of allowing that to daunt her.”

“Our goal for now is the town, focus on that, Chosen,” said Blackwall, who was marching behind them alongside another pony Coco hadn’t really met formally yet, a stout, compact little pegasus mare who looked oddly chubby for a Legion soldier, until Coco looked more closely and realized none of that rotundness was fat, but was all muscle rippling under thin studded leather. Where Blackwall was a giant of an earth pony, it seemed like this tiny pegasus compacted all that same muscle into a tight little ball a full head shorter than Coco was. She had a dark wine red coat coloring, and a short cut set of curly sandy blond mane and tail.

The pegasus mare literally bumped into Blackwall’s leg with a shoulder and said, “Same to you, Blackwall. We all got names here. Might as well remember to use them before the shit starts flying.”

Blackwall sighed, a sound not unlike the thunder echoing near the horizon, “So be it, Stormfront.” She looked at Trixie and Coco, her tone not unlike what a pony might sound like trying to chew iron. “Focus on the task ahead of us, Private Lulamoon, Private Pommel.” She glanced at Stormfront. “Better?”

Stormfront nodded, “Still stiff, but meh, gets the job done.”

Blackwall grunted, still having an expression like chiseled obsidian. “Getting the job done is the idea.”

“And that will be easier to do if Trixie... I can avoid tripping over your abused sense of duty every five minutes,” muttered Trixie, to which Blackwall set her jaw tightly and glared ahead, saying nothing as they continued their march. Coco worriedly glanced back once or twice, only to find Stormfront shaking her small head at Coco and mouthing, ‘Don’t push it’. Coco just sighed and hung her head, wondering if she and her friends were going to be dealing with salty Legionnaires for their entire four year draft stint. Well, if they’d gotten the ponies at Beartrap Fortress to come around in a short amount of time, they’d probably get the doubters among their present comrades to do the same. Blackwall seemed the most set against them, and Coco had to admit most the others seemed fairly accepting of the Heartlanders among them.

Perhaps she didn’t need to worry about it. For the moment she put the thought aside and actually followed Blackwall’s advice, turning her attention to the town. They were fast approaching Victor’s Cliff, and the town was responding to the arriving Legion platoon. Ponies on the wall were watching, pointing, and leaning towards each other to chat excitedly as the Legion platoon marched up to the gates. The gates themselves were made from thick wood planks bound by strips of iron, mounted in a small gatehouse, the top of which had several armed ponies with spears.

One of these ponies, a nervous looking brown earth pony stallion with a gray streaked black mane pulled back in a tail by a leather band stepped to the edge of the top of the gatehouse and called down to the approaching platoon, “You the crazy spider hunting troops?”

At the head of the platoon column Windstriker flew up into the air until she was eye level with the stallion, face unamused, “I’m Captain Windstriker, commanding officer of the Underwatch. We’ve arrived to conduct an investigation of the area and expect the full cooperation of the township of Victor’s Cliff in that endeavor. Open the gates.”

Coco shared a look with Trixie. Not the most polite way to ask for entry, but then again it seemed like the Legion wasn’t really in the habit of making polite requests when it came to dealing with anypony. This was the Barrier Lands, and ponies were expected to give Legionnaires full cooperation, period. That said there was a tension in the air as the brown stallion met Windstriker’s gaze with a level one of his own, then said, “We’re letting you through, don’t you doubt Captain, but I want to talk at you at your earliest convenience. Now come on in and we’ll get you and your ponies settled.”

He gave a few barked commands and other ponies on the wall scrambled to work a wheel that got the gate doors swinging open slowly and silently. Windstriker landed and led the platoon through the gates, Coco glancing around curiously at her surroundings, taking in the sights, sounds, and smells of Victor’s Cliff. Mostly drab, quiet, and mossy, in that order. Not that the town didn’t have a certain rustic charm to it, with many curious ponies poking heads garbed in woolen caps out of doors or windows to peer at the Legion ponies, and more than a few foals running about to watch them with wide, awed eyes. There was a palpable sense of unease, however, that seemed to run through all the townsponies like a hidden current beneath an otherwise calm looking river.

“Trixie is not feeling the warm welcome washing over her,” Trixie said under her breath, “This is reminding her of receptions she received after her reputation went down the drain.”

“They’re scared,” said Blackwall simply, though her own expression showed a small frown of confusion, “Not of us, but something has them spooked.”

The browns stallion from the wall was trotting down a ramp on the inside of the wall. He was joined by a half dozen other villagers with spears, all halting a respectful distance from the platoon. Windstriker inclined her head at the stallion, and he cleared his throat, “Welcome to Victor’s Cliff, Captain. I’m Sterngaze, and I represent the town council when dealing with outsiders. We were informed of your coming just yesterday, and even then we weren’t told much other than you’re looking into old mare’s tales about the Lurkers.”

“Not such old tales, as it turns out,” said Windstriker, causing a bit of a stir among some of the townponies who were gathering around. Windstriker gazed around, eyeing the ponies of Victor’s Cliff with a critical eye before returning her focus to Sterngaze. “My troops will need quarters, but while they’re getting settled in I want you to assemble this town council. We’ll need as much information about the surrounding area as possible, and on top of that we had information that said one of your own has succumbed to some kind of mental condition. We’ll need the details on that, as well.”

A pained look crossed Sterngaze’s face, “Yes, Autumn Leaf. My daughter. She’s... in a bad way, and we don’t know what’s wrong with her. I’ll have the council convene immediately, and make sure you all have a place to stay. We already started clearing room at the inn and there should be enough space for all of you.”

“You have my thanks for that, and there is a medical specialist in my troop, so with your permission I’ll have him give your daughter a look,” Windstriker said, to which Sterngaze gave a grim nod.

“If anything can be done, I’d be in your debt. Our own town herbalist has tried every remedy she knows to no avail.”

“Heimlich, Snakebite, why don’t the two of you go have a look at this Autum Leaf while the rest of us get situated,” said Windstriker, and the two platoon medics trotted out of formation and followed Sterngaze down the street while another of the local militia led the rest of the platoon down another street towards the east end of town. As they marched Coco noticed there didn’t seem to be any kind of local town hall, but the town’s only inn looked like a major gathering place. The inn was easily three times the size of any other building in town, with a loud common room that looked like it pulled double duty as a tavern. The other two floors of the inn contained various rooms for travelers, and the entire top floor had been given over to the Underwatch’s use. Fortunately there wasn’t much traffic moving through town, so near as Coco could tell they weren’t kicking anypony out of a already paid for room. She did wonder if the inn was being compensated in any way for quartering them, and though she was a bit intimidated by the dour seeming mare, she asked Blackwall about it.

“The compensation you speak of is that this town is protected by Legion lives every day of its existence. Our mere presence here, doing our duty, is payment,” Blackwall explained, sounding impatient, then muttering, “Though it is only a matter of time before Heartlander ideas seep into our own lands and make these folk forget that.”

“Enough chatter,” said Windstriker, “Get yourselves settled into your rooms quickly. I want all pegasi to report to Corporal Quickaim for aerial recon. I want a sweep of a five mile radius around the town before nightfall. Seeker, pick some ponies for night watch duty. We got rain coming in, we’ll see how the weather pans out before making further plans than that. I still need to talk with the town council and get what information we can from them. Privates Lulamoon, Pommel, Blossomforth, and Corporal Coldiron, I want you four with me at the town council meeting. You all have fought Lurkers already and can maybe be of use listening to whatever stories they townponies got to tell.”

Sterngaze led Heimlich and Snakebite swiftly down the streets just as the first drops of rain began to fall. Snakebite chuckled dryly, licking his lips as he looked up at the sky. “Oh here it comes. This’ll be a lovely night for a storm.”

“Ach, this drizzle is no storm,” said Heimlich with a snort, “Needs wind that howls loud enough to shred eardrums and rattle window bars off hinges.”

“Give it time,” said Snakebite, as Sterngaze’s trotting form approached a two story house near the center of town, with a soft glow of candle and firelight pouring from its shuttered windows.

“What are daughter’s symptoms?” asked Heimlich, Sterngaze opening the thick wood door and leading them inside.

“She’s been delirious and feverish for over a week now,” the old stallion said, propping his spear up against the wall next to the door once they were inside, which was a large living area with a thick ursan fur rug covering part of the wood planked floor by a huge stone fireplace, an old mare with filmy white eyes and a grayed mane pulled into a tight bun rocking back and forth in a chair with her hooves working some knitting.

“Eh, you home Stern? Who’s that with you?” the old mare croaked.

“Legionnaires, mother. Two medics. I brought them to look at Autumn Leaf,” Sterngaze said.

The old mare’s eyes flicked towards them, her knitting stopping, and her voice turning chillingly still, “Ain’t no helping that poor filly. I told you Stern, love her all you want, but you ought to put her out of her misery. No medicine is fixing what’s wrong with her soul.”

Heimlich and Snakebite exchanged looks, Heimlich taking a step forward towards the mare, “Pardons old one, but what do you know that makes you say so?”

“Don’t mind her,” said Sterngaze, “Mother’s always been the pessimist of the family.”

“Ain’t no pessimism, boy!” said the old mare sharply, a bit of spittle flying from her mouth, “Its the forest curse I tell you! Damn fool filly didn’t listen to her elder’s good wisdom and wandered where she shouldn’t, and has paid the price. Her soul is sick with the curse of the forest, and she won’t be getting better. No, she’ll get worse, you mark my words. Worse until she’s a danger to all of us. But you won’t listen boy. Sentimental. You’ll keep her cooped up in there until she goes mad enough to eat your throat out... heh, but that’s how these things go. Last time was your great uncle Timberbrook. Went into the forest and came out wrong; cursed. Your great grandpa kept him around too, trying to help, until Timberbrook went crazed enough to stab him with a kitchen knife right in the eye! Went cackling off into the night screaming about the forest and the shard...pfft. You won’t listen, but I’m telling you, poor little Autumn is gone already and what you got upstairs is just a cursed thing waiting to get strong enough to kill somepony.”

“That’s quite the story, my good mare,” said Snakebite, eyes gleaming, “I take it there’s a lot of stories like that concerning that rather impressive forest beyond the town walls?”

The old mare gave a small, bitter laugh, “A few, youngin’, a few.”

“I’d be most interested in hearing them, as soon as we’re done giving your granddaughter an examination,” Snakebite said, “Rest assured that one way or another, we’ll get to the bottom of what’s going on here, and if there’s any violence to be done, the Legion is well equipped to deal with it.”

Sterngaze gave him a sidelong, grave look, eyes pinched narrow, “She’s upstairs. Come, you can listen to my mother’s rambling later.”

He led them up a set of creaking stairs to the second floor, where a short hallway led past several doors until they reached one at the end of the hall that opened up into a small, tidy bedroom. A middle aged mare with a heavily braided black mane partially covered by a plain white scarf sat with worried blue eyes at the side of the bed, where a young mare, just barely old enough to be out of fillyhood, lay sweat soaked and panting. The young filly shared the older mare’s reddish copper coat. The mare turned to look to Sterngaze as he entered.

“She’s getting warmer Stern! I don’t know what to do, she keeps saying things I don’t understand.”

“It will be alright, Hearthtender, I’ve brought someponies to help,” he said, quickly introducing Snakebite and Heimlich, who both bowed their heads to the mare of the house.

“With your permission we would like some space to examine your daughter,” said Snakebite, “You have my word we’ll do all we can for her.”

Heimlich had already approached the bed, trotting around to the side opposite of Hearthtender and was looking over the filly under the sheets. His eyes were steely and focused, as if the rest of the room had stopped mattering the moment he saw a patient to work upon. Autumn Leaf herself was breathing hard, her brow bleeding sweat and her eyes unfocused as the flicked about, as if seeing phantoms. Her mouth was moving, soft mutterings under her breath that Snakebite couldn’t make out. He turned to Sterngaze.

“We’ll work best if you allow us to be alone with her for a time, but I do have a few questions first.”

“Of course,” said Sterngaze, gesturing for his wife to join him, which she did so with a reluctant glance at her daughter. Heimlich removed a few medical tools from his saddlebag and began to carefully do a starting examination of Autumn Leaf while Snakebite turned his attention to the parents.

“First of all, exactly what do you know about how she came to be like this?” he asked.

“It was just about eight days ago,” said Sterngaze, “It was still early afternoon and Autumn Leaf had finished her chores for the day. She said she was going out to play with her friends by the river. Only none of her friends saw her there, and it wasn’t until some time later that she wandered back into town. We usually keep the gate open most days, and the guards at the gate saw her wander in, and since they knew her they didn’t challenge her or anything... it wasn’t until she met one of her friends, the blacksmiths’ colt, Metalwork, that she... she let out this unearthly howl. She screamed and screamed and it took me and to other full grown stallions to haul her home. She was thrashing something fierce, and just kept screaming like the ursans were at our gates.”

Hearthtender sniffed, shaking her head, “I managed to get her into bed, where she started to calm down, but she started to go feverish within the hour and... and she’s been like this since then. She keeps muttering things under her breath.”

“What kind of things?” asked Snakebite, trying to keep his tone sympathetic even as he mind started to work on theories. He wasn’t the doctor Heimlich was, but he’d spent his whole life dealing with the toxins, poisons, and diseases of the Southern Barrier Lands’ jungles. He knew just what the right kind of poisons could do to a pony’s mind, and there were certain diseases that could have the same effect. Strong fevers could induce hallucinations, and all sorts of drugs could have the same kind of results. While he didn’t doubt certain local herbal remedies could be effective, those probably had nothing on some of the more tried and true antivenoms he could brew up.

“Does anypony knew where she was before returning to town?” he inquired.

“Nopony knows for certain, but much as I hate to admit it, mother may be right about the forest,” said Sterngaze with a tired voice, “Not about any crazy curses, but Autumn might’ve gone into the forest. She’s a curious sort, and sometimes talked about wondering what was in there and why we always warn our foals away from it.”

“Why do you have such warnings?”

“The forest isn’t safe,” said Hearthtender, “Cursed or not, whether you believe in such things, the forest is still not a safe place. Everypony in town knows that! Autumn Leaf should have known it too!”

“Yes, but why is it considered unsafe?” Snakebite pressed, and the two parents looked at each other helplessly for a moment.

“It just is,” said Sterngaze, “It's easy to get lost, and the underbrush is thick. There are old stories about... well... the Lurkers. Just old stories, you see, about how if you wander too deep the Lurkers will snatch you up. It’s all just dumb old tales, but we tell our foals anyway because who wants their little one getting lost in there?” He gulped, “You don’t think the Lurkers are actually real?”

“The Underwatch exists now because its been proven they are,” said Snakebite simply, to which both ponies before him shuddered and gave him fearful, incredulous looks, “However we don’t yet have any proof this issue with your daughter is related to that. From what we’ve learned of the Lurkers, if they were involved then your daughter would have been abducted. However, it is possible that if she escaped an encounter with a Lurker, then her condition may be the result of their venom. Now, is she injured in any way?”

“No,” answered Heimlich, who’d withdrawn the sheets from Autumn Leaf and was carefully examining the filly, who writhed but didn’t move away from the doctor’s touch, still seemingly unaware of her surroundings. Snakebite had to admit it wasn’t a pleasant sight, watching the young pony shake and toss in such a feverish state. He considered himself fairly hardened, but he hated seeing ponies under the effects of sickness. Part of why he’d become a medic in the first place. The ophidian snakes came up with plenty of insidious poisons, and he prided himself on finding ways to counter them. Hopefully one of his remedies might help this poor filly.

“If she’s not injured, that rules out Lurker venom,” Snakebite said, then paused, stroking his chin, “Unless they have alternate ways to use their poisons, like gas or spit. Ugh, spitting spiders, not a pleasant thought.”

“You’re serious,” whispered Sterngaze, blinking at him, “You Legion troops really are here because the Lurkers are real, and you think my daughter ran afoul of them?”

“Its just one possibility, but clearly something did this to her, and Lurkers or not, it’s going to be the Underwatch’s job to investigate what,” Snakebite said, “That’s all the questions I have for now. You and your wife should go downstairs and let me and my comrade work.”

“I... don’t want to leave her,” said Hearthtender, looking at her daughter with wetness shimmering in her eyes. Snakebite took a deep breath and managed to scrounge up a reassuring smile.

“We’ll work better without eyes over our shoulder, ma’am. Please, for your daughter’s sake, let us do our job.”

“Come, wife, the Legion knows its business,” said Sterngaze, taking his spouse by the shoulder and steering her towards the door. She went only with clear hesitation, moving with slow, trudging steps as she let Sterngaze lead her out of the room. Once they were gone Snakebite let out a heavy sigh and went to the side of the bed.

“Well Heimlich, what do you think?”

The older stallion frowned, his hoof moving over the young mare’s chest. She moaned and muttered softly, but didn’t respond much, eyes distant and glazed. Snakebite sniffed, seeing if there were any hints in the filly’s scent concerning whatever had infected her. Some toxins left distinct odors in the sweat of their victims. However in this case he didn’t pick up anything, just the sourness of pure sweat.

“Her heart ist strong und steady. High fever but no sign of infection.” His horn lit up with a stark white glow that he ran over the filly’s body for several seconds. “No sign of disease or poisons, but spells only calibrated to pick up known strains. Need blood sample to analyze in more detail.”

“Okay, but do you got at least a preliminary guess as to what’s causing this? I’ve seen the ophidians use some nasty stuff, but at least its usually got the decency to kill its victims quick enough.”

Heimlich gave a dour shake of his head, “Best guess ist still, how you say... a crap shoot? If no infected wound or clear mark of poison, and disease not a known factor, then I would say the young fraulein's mind is the cause.”

“Her mind? Like some kind of dementia?” Snakebite looked at the filly quizzically, watching her mouth move in quiet mutterings. “Can you tell what she’s saying?”

“I was not putting ear close enough to check. Feel free,” said Heimlich as he pulled out a syringe in preparation to take a blood sample. Snakebite rolled his eyes at the unicorn and started to lean over Autumn Leaf. He paused, looking up at Heimlich.

“If she tries to bite my ear off, hit her with a stun spell, will you?”

“Da, I’ll be watchful,” Heimlich said, not taking his eye off of his syringe. Snakebite sighed and perked his ear close to the filly’s muttering mouth. Her voice was hoarse, as if raw from constant use, and barely more than the memory of the tiniest whisper.

”...return...-ome...the shards...unite inside-...cold and deep...”

He listened long enough to get the impression she was repeating the same words, just in random order. It was difficult to clearly hear any of it, but one word stuck out in his mind. Shards. Hadn’t the old mare said something about shards as well? Snakebite was not a stallion to believe in pure coincidences.

Pulling back from the filly, he watched as Heimlich took his blood sample, filling a syringe with Autumn Leaf’s precious lifeblood. He watched the young mare as she writhed, limbs seeming to slowly battle with phantom images, her feverish eyes staring at things only she could see. A memory of another bubbled up to the surface of his thoughts. He hadn’t thought of his wife in a long time, but remembered her last breaths, delirious from ophidian poison. He clenched his jaw and looked at Heimlich.

“While you’re studying that sample I’ll whip up some of my own remedies. Even if we don’t know what we’re dealing with, one of them might reduce her fever enough for her to become lucid, or at least ease her pain.”

Heimlich glanced at him, “Good notion. I work fast to find what I can.”

That said, Snakebite pulled the bed covers over Autumn Leaf and patted her sweat slicked mane, “Stay strong, little lady. We’ll do what we can.”

The thing he hated most about saying those words, necessary as they were to him, was that he was painfully aware that doing ‘all one can’ was oftentimes just not enough.

“Allie Way, you’ll take the east side patrol with Blackwall. Wildspell, you take the north end with Halberd. I’ll take the west side with Coalburn, and that leaves Trixie and Coco to handle the south end,” Seeker said, giving out the assignments for the night patrol to the ponies gathered up in the inn’s common room, seated along one of the far walls and enjoying some of the establishment’s fresh cooked fare.

Quickaim and the pegasi of the platoon had flown off to do their perimeter sweep, and the rest of the platoon was either settling down in their new quarters or grabbing some food as well. The tavern keeper, a wiry earth pony mare whose mane looked to Allie Way like a beehive colored like honey, was giving the Legion troops sour looks while having her tavern mares work overtime to get food and drinks served out to crowded room.

The town council had had just finished its meeting with Captain Windstriker, and while Allie Way hadn’t been able to listen in to much of it, she’d gotten the impression it hadn’t gone well.

“Did they have anything to say about the Lurkers?” Allie Way had asked Trixie after she and the other mares called to the meeting had shuffled over from the side of the tavern the council had met in.

“Little next to nothing,” had been Trixie’s reply. Coldiron had elaborated a bit more, adding, “Their stories are much the same as you’d find anywhere in the Western Barrier Lands, there’s simply more of them.”

“Still, they all pretty much got one thing in common; they’re all about that forest,” Blossomforth had said, and that seemed to cinch the notion among most the mares that the Underwatch’s next move was likely going to be a search of the thickly wooded forest outside Victor’s Cliff. However Windstriker hadn’t confirmed that yet, and if they were going to go into the forest it certainly wasn’t going to be at night, or during the rainstorm that had no gotten moving in full swing outside.

Allie Way flinched a bit at every peal of thunder, and wasn’t looking forward to having to be out in the thick downpour she could see outside the tavern windows. She shoved steamed carrots into her mouth and tried to let the warmth of them seep through her and fortify her for what was going to be a very wet and cold night, even with the heavy duty rain cloaks the Legion ponies carried for foul weather.

On top of that, her assigned patrol partner was Blackwall. Allie Way hadn’t spoken much at all to the imposing earth pony, but had caught enough of Trixie’s mutterings on the matter to know that Blackwall didn’t seem very fond of ponies from the Heartland. When she was done eating and it was time to begin patrolling she met with the other assigned night patrol under the wooden awning at the front of the tavern.

“Alright, each of us has a unicorn to pair with,” said Seeker, “So if you run into any actual trouble or spot something strange, we can signal with the appropriate magic flare. We’ve got six hours until our relief shift, so everypony stay sharp, try to stay dry, and stay in sight of your partner.”

With that the patrol ponies all heading off to their assigned areas, Blackwall giving Allie Way the barest of nods before saying, “Let me take the lead, but keep your horn lit bright. This is going to be a dark night.”

Well, that’s not ominous at all, Allie Way thought as she followed the mountainous mare into the rainy, gloomy evening.

Heimlich had separated the blood sample he’d taken from Autumn Leaf into several different small vials, set in a small wooden mount he had set upon a small table he’d pulled into the room with the sick young mare. Snakebite was in another room, brewing up some potential remedies to reduce the mare’s fever. Heimlich wasn’t so certain any of it would work but he wasn’t going to tell Snakebite not to try. In the meantime he was determined to get to the bottom of Autumn Leaf’s malady.

Each vial would be subjected to a more specific detecting spell, most of which are ones he’d developed himself to seek out particular inconsistencies or unusual attributes in blood. Including magical influence. He hadn’t discounted the old mare’s warnings, that her granddaughter was being afflicted by a curse. As many mundane things existed to put ponies in such dire straights, there were just as many magical sources of affliction, and Heimlich had encountered his fair share of those as well. The blood curse of a necromancer, or the toxic magic of a poison spell, and even one instance where a insane magically attuned bandit had learned to afflict mental illness on others with a simple spell.

Once he had the six vials set up he began to layer detecting spells upon them, one at a time, eyes closed and focused on the return senses he received from each spell. One by one they returned nothing of value. He confirmed there were no foreign agents in her blood, no viruses or toxins that his earlier scans couldn’t find. It wasn’t until he reached the last vial, with his last spell seeking magical influences that he received an unusual return on his detecting spell. Frowning he focused upon the blood sample and increased the intensity of his spell.

There. An echo of... something. It was magic, certainly, and a strain of magic foreign to the filly’s own natural magic aura. The echo resonated with Heimlich’s spell, getting louder, like a voice from another room, muffled to a whisper, suddenly rising to distinct shout.

”Return the shards to their home.”

Heimlich instantly cut off his spell, backing away from the blood sample and shaking his head in disorientation.

“Ack, what ist this?” he muttered, rubbing at his head. He’d heard a defined voice, almost feminine, somehow cold and metallic. He stared at the blood sample, heart beating hard in his chest. The voice was gone the instant he’d cut off his spell. There was no doubting, however, that something, some kind of magically induced voice, was attached to Autumn Leaf.

But what was it trying to make her do and how had it gotten into her in the first place? His mind whirled with ideas, not the least of which was whether there was any kind of dispelling enchantment that might counter the magical echo’s influence, but before his ideas got much future he heard a creak of the floorboards behind him.

He turned around, just in time to catch the sight of Autumn Leaf, sweating, mane a tangled mess, but her eyes oddly and madly focused, as she smashed a candlestick across his face.

Author's Note

Huh, have I not been doing author's notes up until now? Weird, must have slipped my mind. Not that I've had a lot to say in terms of notes this time around. The story so far has been a lot of establishing new characters while trying not to lose focus on our mane cadre of protagonists. While I've got the whole platoon named and a few details on each pony in the Underwatch, I'm mostly hoping to keep focused on a limited number of characters so I don't get spread too thin.

At any rate, thanks for reading along so far, and let me know what you folks think.

Chapter 4: Blood and Rain

Chapter 4: Blood and Rain

Some swiftly analytical part of Heimlich’s brain calculated probable injuries before his head even hit the rough floorboards of the bedroom. Broken lower lip, two loose molars, likelihood of severe bruising, but his jaw wasn’t broken. Chance of minor concussion as well, but that could be worried about later, when he didn’t have a insane, violent young mare trying to brain him with a candlestick.

Autumn Leaf, sweat dripping from her pallid face, held the candlestick firmly in her mouth while breathing heavily, her eyes wide but dilated to the point where they appeared wholly black. She lunged for Heimlich in a sharp and jerking motion, smashing with the improvised weapon, and though still dazed the trained Legionnaire had enough instinct to roll away from the blow. He reached for his dagger with his magic, clearing it from the hilt in one smooth motion, but Autumn moved with speed utterly unlike that of a normal young mare and barreled into him before he could bring the dagger to bear on her. Her strength was also unreal, and he felt the air blast from his lungs as he was thrown into, then through, the door and out into the hallway in a heap.

He coughed and sputtered, trying to regain his breath. He’d lost the magical grip on his dagger, which clattered to the ground, and he had no time to pick it up as Autumn leaped at him. He reacted reflexively, kicking up with his hind hooves, catching her in the belly and throwing the filly backwards. Unusually strong or not, she still only weighed as much as a short young mare ought to. She slammed against the wall back in the bedroom and Heimlich clambered back to his hooves just as the door down the hall to his left was thrown open and Snakebite came out, having drawn one of his own machetes.

“The bloody abyss is going on!?” Snakebite hissed, eyes widening at the sight of Autumn Leaf, “What’s she doing out of the bed!?”

“It would seem the grandmother’s stories were not exaggerations,” Heimlich replied grimly, “The young filly seems quite mad.”

Sterngaze’s voice called from downstairs, “What’s happening up there!?”

Before either Legion pony could answer, Autumn Leaf shuffled to her hooves from where she’d fallen against the wall, and twisted her head around to stare at Heimlich and Snakebite with a wide, unnatural smile. She spoke, but her voice sounded wrong, not like the feverish filly she was supposed to be, but rather with the guttural, resonate tone of something otherworldly.

“The path will be opened to the Origin. The children will return to be made whole.”

She suddenly went into wracking coughs, then, and viscous, blood strewn bile dripped from her mouth, and for an instant her eyes blinked, almost returning to normal along with her voice, which became weak and frightened. “H-help me...”

Then another blink and the eyes were dilated to full black again, and with an unearthly howl Autumn Leaf smashed the window next to her and started to crawl through it.

“Shit!” Snakebite rushed forward, trying to grab her before she could get through, but a kick from one of her hindlegs knocked him back. Heimlich leveled his horn towards her, charging up a small, thin beam of stunning energy, but Autumn Leaf, fast as a slippery eel, popped through the window and Heimlich’s beam passed through shadow into the raging storm outside.

“By all the stones in the earth somepony tell me what’s happening here!” bellowed Sterngaze as he rushed up the stairs and then reached the bedroom, staring in complete surprise at the broken window and empty bed where his daughter has just been.

Heimlich swore under his breath and helped Snakebite up, who was looking more than a little frazzled. “We need to find her. Now!”

“No shit. Let’s go!” Snakebite said, turning to gallop out. Sterngaze tried to stand in his way with a half asked question, but Snakebite cut him off, “Your daughter just went whackjob on us and jumped out the damn window! So before you ask any stupid questions, we have to find her and subdue her before she runs into too many of our comrades, because if she’s out to kill, there’s plenty in our platoon that’ll kill first and ask questions later! So if you want your daughter back alive, rouse your militia, and help us find her!”

Sterngaze sputtered, blinked, visibly tried to take control of his emotions as he absorbed what he’d just been told, then quickly nodded. “I understand.”

“Good. Heimlich, get to the Captain, let her know what’s up. I’ll try and track the girl before she gets her crazy ass killed.”

On the south side of Victor’s Cliff Trixie trotted alongside Coco. Trixie had put up a light shield spell, just strong enough to keep the rain off of her and her earth pony companion. At the same time she had her horn lit up to illuminate the area around them in pale blue luminescence, though it only did so much to pierce the rain soaked night. Trixie kept looking at each patch of shadow with suspicious eyes, practically expecting a Lurker to leap out at them at any given moment.

“You’re tense...” Coco observed, adjusting the straps to the claymore on her back for maybe the tenth time since they started their patrol. Trixie glanced at her.

“So are you.”

Coco blinked, then gave a small smile, “True. This reminds me too much of Arrow Vale.”

“Admittedly when we went there the town was already hit by Lurkers. So far there’s no sign of them here, unless the condition of that poor filly is their fault. Trixie somehow doubts it.”

“Why’s that?”

Trixie shined her horn down an alley between buildings, seeing a small, startled black cat give a hiss and bound off into the night. “All we’ve seen the Lurkers do is capture ponies for food. Making random fillies sick doesn’t fit their established methods.”

“Trixie, they’re giant underground spiders we’ve only run into once so far. I don’t think we can assume anything about their methods, one way or another,” said Coco as she peered around a street corner towards the north. “I hope Allie Way is doing okay.”

“Hm? Trixie imagines she’s just fine.”

“I don’t know, I worry about her.” Coco pursed her lips with a pensive look, “Its hard to put my hoof on, but I feel like maybe when she volunteered to join the Underwatch it was... for the wrong reasons?”

“Trixie has literally no clue what you’re talking about,” Trixie said, blowing out a slightly annoyed sigh as she and Coco swung north. They’d reached the far eastern half of the town and the plan was to move along the wall north, then switch back south once they’d checked the northeast area. “Allie Way wanted to stick with us, her friends, right?”

“Yeah, I mean sure, that too, but I... gah, I don’t know. Its just this feeling I have. A hunch. I spent years working for this mare named Suri, and she drove me up a wall, but I had a real knack for telling when she was in a bad mood or being bothered by something. I’ve been getting the same feeling from Allie. Like she’s on constant edge.”

“As you just pointed out, so are the rest of us,” said Trixie, “Stop worrying so much. At least, no more than our situation warrants.”

There was a crash of lightning and thunder from above and Trixie nearly jumped out of her leather battlemage coat, mane standing on end. Coco looked at her, raising an eyebrow, and Trixie grimaced, “Trixie demands that you did not see her jump out of her socks at bad weather.”

“You’re not wearing socks.” Coco rubbed her chin in thought, “Though I can see you looking good in them.”

Trixie was about to retort to that, but a shadow crossed the edge of her pool of blue light and she froze. It was hard to make out through the rain and gloom, but it looked like a young filly stumbling out from behind one of the town’s many tall houses. She moved in strange, jerking lopes, swift yet erratic. Trixie could hear a bubbling, unnatural laughter filling the air and when the filly turned to look at Trixie and Coco, Trixie let out a gasp.

The fillies face was bleeding from the eyes and mouth, but she was grinning in rictus madness, her pupils dilated to be like large, dark stones.

“Sweet Celestia...” Coco breathed, “M-miss? You look injured. Um, perhaps you should follow us somewhere indoors where it’s dry?”

“Coco, I don’t think she’s listening,” Trixie said, fear washing away her third-person as she took a hesitant step forward, readying her horn to cast some offensive magic. She had to drop her rain shield for that, letting the heavy, cold droplets start soaking her and Coco. Her fears proved accurate when the filly, whom she presumed to be Autumn Leaf, the mayor’s daughter, cackled like a madmare and rushed them.

Trixie lowered her horn and channeled magic swiftly through it. She wasn’t the most powerful of unicorns, as she often preferred to boast, but she was far from unskilled and had made it a point to refine her technique on Legion battlmagic with help from Coldiron. Fire and ice were not much her forte, but she found she had a bit of a affinity for lightning. Not surprising given the only combat spell she’d known even before joining the Legion had been to summon a small cloud to toss a bolt of lightning. This time however the electricity channeled its way up her horn to form in a blue spark at its tip, unleashing in a small but highly accurate lance of flashy but mostly non-lethal power.

The standard Legion version of the spell was a lot more... violent. Trixie had refined it for the purpose of stunning a target. She was rather proud of it. At least until it hit Autumn Leaf and seemed to slow the filly down about as much as spitting at her would have.

Trixie would have felt disappointed and even a bit insulted if Autumn Leaf also didn’t bowl right into Coco and toss the much larger earth pony aside like she weighed about as much as the average balloon.

“What the-!?” Trixie managed to gasp out before she too was rammed into and tossed into a nearby bunch of bushes beside one of the homes across the street. Her ribs ached and she lost her breath, seeing starbursts in her vision. She rolled out of the bushes, spitting twigs, and in a daze stumbled to her hooves and looked around for the filly.

Autumn Leaf was advancing on Coco, who had gotten to her hooves faster than Trixie had and had unsheathed her claymore from the scabbard on her back. However Coco looked hesitant to use the large, deadly blade on the young mare in front of her. She looked past Autumn Leaf to Trixie with desperate eyes, and Trixie remembered the reason each patrol team had a unicorn on it.

She lit up her horn and sent up the flare, a bright shining blue burst of light that anypony would be able to see, even in the darkness of this bleak night. Hopefully help would arrive swiftly, but for at least a few minutes Trixie and Coco would be on their own. Clearly something was grossly wrong with Autumn Leaf, but to make things far worse whatever was wrong with her was also giving her freakish strength. Trixie knew she could overly boast about her abilities, but she knew her stun spell should’ve been able to drop a healthy adult earth pony, let alone a sick filly! Something was very wrong here. Coco might’ve had her sword out, but it was clear she wasn’t willing to use it if it risked hurting the filly.

Autumn Leaf clearly had no such hesitation, as she crouched down like a timberwolf and pounced at Coco, lashing out with a hoof. Coco side stepped, raising the flat of her sword to deflect the attack, but the impact was so strong it knocked Coco completely off balance. The filly’s face was a distorted mask of madness, blood dripping from her lips as she raised hooves to bash at Coco, but Trixie cast another flare, this time aiming it right into Autumn Leaf’s face. The burst of azure light and sound distracted the filly just long enough for Coco to launch into a tackle, catching the smaller mare in the middle and bowling her over.

Trixie stumbled forward, ready to try and bind Autumn Leaf with magic, but the filly writhed underneath Coco like a hyperactive snake, her mouth opening so wide Trixie thought her jaw might unhinge. A screech of utterly unnatural noise issued forth from Autumn Leaf’s mouth, and she clamped her jaw round Coco’s leg. Her teeth couldn’t penetrate Coco’s armor, but with a vicious twist of her head Autumn Leaf threw Coco off her and launched the mare into Trixie, sending both tumbling to the ground.

“W-what in Celestia’s name is wrong with her!?” Coco said, shaking her head and rolling to her hooves, keeping her grip on her sword while helping Trixie up with her other hoof.

“How am I supposed to know!? Trixie has never seen anything like this!” Trixie exclaimed back while Autumn Leaf slowly turned towards the two mares.

“She can change all of us, but she wants her children back inside the Origin.” said Autumn Leaf in a voice that made it sound as if her throat was choked with fluids. There was a wet ripping noise as Autumn Leaf raised a hoof, and Trixie felt herself grow nauseous as she saw the flesh ripple like water, then begin to peel back in red, raw ravines as what looked like spurs of curved bone extended from the filly’s fore leg. Similar ripples could be seen tracing all over her body, but at the same moment Autumn Leaf shuddered, and coughed up blood, her eyes flickering almost to a normal sheen.

“...Hel..p...stop...me...” she gurgled, before her eyes flickered back to black and she cackled instead, leaping at Trixie and Coco.

Trixie tensed to dodge, but a sphere of glowing blue magic, like a flying bowling ball, slammed into Autumn Leaf’s side and knocked the filly to the ground in a heap.

“Trixie! Coco!” Allie Way cried, galloping up towards them, the huge dark form of Blackwall galloping by her side like a moving boulder. While Allie Way skidded to a halt beside Trixie and Coco, her own horn still glowing with magic, Blackwall kept going, head lowered like a battering ram as she aimed for Autumn Leaf, who was just starting to stand back up. Blackwall hit the filly like a train, and Trixie winced at the nose of crunching bones as Autumn Leaf was sent flying into the wall of a house across the street.

“Blackwall, we need to capture her alive!” shouted Coco, “She needs our help!”

Blackwall didn’t look back, keeping her eyes fixed on Autumn Leaf as she said with cold certainty, “She can live with a few broken ribs. I’m not taking chances.”

There was suddenly an entire wave of tearing, wet noises of ripping flesh, followed by a sound of both howling and cackling, as Autumn Leaf convulsed where she fell. Trixie swallowed hot bile rising in her throat as she saw one, two, three, then four limbs tear themselves out of the filly’s sides. They were long, sinuous, multi-jointed legs with sharpened points at the ends, glistening with fresh, wet chitin. Trixie recognized them, as did the others, as she heard Coco breath out in fresh fear, “Those are Lurker legs...”

“It can’t be. That’s insane. She can’t be turning into a Lurker!” Trixie said, feeling a spike of fear as Autumn, or whatever the thing Autumn was becoming, let out a shriek at the ponies in front of her, then with speed not unlike the giant spiders themselves, crawled right up the side of the house and vanished over the roof.

“Shit, after her!” Blackwall bellowed, breaking into a gallop.

After only a moment of hesitation, Trixie, Allie Way, and Coco followed the large mare in pursuit of the still changing filly. They could barely keep her in view, despite the thick rain and cloaking darkness of night. Trixie and Allie Way both kept their horns shining brightly, aiming them like spotlights at Autumn Leaf’s form as she skittered from rooftop to rooftop, using the spurs of bone jutting from her still pony shaped limbs as much as her new arachnid appendages to leap gaps between houses. Lightning kept flashing in the rain choked sky, and in the distance there was the clamor of a bell being rung, and the growing shouts of ponies being roused. The whole town was being alerted, but Trixie didn't think it'd be in time to be of any use.

“Allie Way,” Trixie said between panting breaths, “On the next jump grab her legs with your magic!”

“Which ones!?” the other unicorn shouted back breathlessly.

“Any of them! All of them!” Trixie shouted back, just as Autumn Leaf jumped across the space of the last street between the houses of Victor’s Cliff and the town’s wall. Trixie aimed her magic as best she could, wreathing as many of Autumn Leaf’s legs as she could with her own magic, while Allie Way skidded to a halt and did the same. The mutating filly was caught in mid-air, trapped with multiple auras of magic around her flailing limbs.

Autumn Leaf let out a horrific wail, something a pony’s throat shouldn't have been able to utter, and twisted around in the air, trying to escape. However holding her in place was nowhere near as easy at it might have looked. Maintaining a strong telekinetic hold, especially over someone who was resisting, was no simple feat. Between Trixie and Allie Way’s combined efforts they were able to stop and hold her for a few moments, long enough for them to catch up to her, but that was it. In seconds Autumn Leaf slipped free of the magical auras trying to hold her and fell to the dirt street near the wall with a splash, but deftly landed on her legs like a crouching spider.

Coco and Blackwall flanked her on either side, both earth pony mares advancing slowly. Autumn Leaf coughed and sputtered mad laughter as she watched the approach.

"Embrace the change, we can all be her children-" Autumn Leaf's lips twisted as she seemed to fight for control of herself, her eyes briefly lashing to normal as she desperately forced words out, "Don't... let... stop... me..."

A hissing snarl tore itself from her throat as her eyes went back to black, "This body is hers! Your bodies will belong to the Origin too!"

“Should we get a net, or something?” Coco asked hesitantly, but Blackwall, face rough as hewn obsidian, just shook her head.

“No time. You heard her. We must stop her from escaping. Stay back, and I shall take the burden of ending this.”

“But-” Coco began to say, yet before she could finish Autumn Leaf hissed and darted between them. Blackwall swung one of her fore legs like a club, the metal gauntlet on her limb making it a deadly weapon with her amount of physical strength, but Autumn Leaf’s speed was even greater now as her body continued to change. Now an extra set of blackened, bead-like eyes existed above her original set, and Trixie could see the beginnings of fangs sharpening within the filly’s mouth as the increasingly ex-filly tripped Coco with one of her many Lurker shaped legs, and then darted for Allie Way.

Allie Way froze up, eyes wide as saucers, and Trixie turned to throw another stunning bolt of electricity, pumping as much power as she could into it. The streaking line of lightning struck Autumn Leaf, but didn’t stop her from leaping upon Allie Way, who cried out as Autumn Leaf tried to snap her newly formed fangs towards the mare’s neck. Allie Way only barely fended the fangs off with her magic pushing Autumn Leaf back. She couldn't hold the fangs at bay for long, the sharp points, dripping fresh poison, inching closer to Allie Way's exposed throat.

Then Blackwall was there like a dark mountain, raising up on her hind legs. Trixie saw a flash of lightning in the sky that illuminated the mare’s face, cold and hard as stone, but with a look of saddened pain buried within her eyes as she brought both of her gauntleted hooves down hard on the back of Autumn Leaf’s head. There was a sound like a breaking watermelon, and then Autumn Leaf’s body slumped over Allie Way. The filly wouldn’t be getting back up that night, or ever again.

When Snakebite arrived on the scene a few minutes later Trixie was still throwing up nearby, Coco was staring at Blackwall with wide eyes, and Allie Way hadn’t moved a muscle, sitting stock still with Autumn Leaf’s blood still coating some of her face despite the deluge of rain.

Windstriker had been through plenty of rough spots in her career with the Legion. You didn’t hit the rank of Captain, let alone become a member of the Special Operations unit, without having seen a lot of the worst Legion life had to offer. Death was hardly new to her. Seeing grieving parents was something she’d long since grown accustomed to, both when delivering the sad news when she’d lost members of her command, or just the sight of it when passing through a town that had been hit hard by one of the Legion’s many enemies.

Didn’t necessarily mean it was something she felt nothing over, however, and watching Sterngaze and Hearthtender bury their daughter the next morning was hard on the spirit. The mess from last night had shaken the entire town, and the members of the Underwatch that had been involved. Windstriker had gotten the verbal reports from each member who’d been there, and while there’d been some initial question of responsibility for Autumn Leaf’s death, Windstriker had already concluded that Blackwall had acted exactly as she should have.

Having seen Autumn Leaf’s body it was hard to say that she’d even been a pony anymore, and with a fellow Legionnaire in mortal danger it was well within proper action for Blackwall to have ended the threat. It didn’t make things any easier, or less tragic, but Windstriker couldn't find fault with Blackwall's actions. She'd have likely done the same herself had she been there instead. Snakebite and Heimlich, who'd been tending to Autumn Leaf, had delivered their own reports on the filly's condition prior to the sudden mutation. From what they both said it didn't seem like there was much more that could have been done to save the filly. There had been some brief question of whether or not they should keep her body for study, but one look at the parents and the overall foul mood of the town convinced Windstriker that they needed to let them bury their dead, otherwise things might get ugly. Sterngaze himself had seemed to shut down emotionally, being still and quiet as a ghost through most of the morning’s proceedings. Windstriker had to admit she respected how much his wife, Hearthtender, was keeping herself together, shedding tears but taking over leading the ponies of Victor’s Cliff while Sterngaze remained mostly unresponsive. It was Hearthtender that had accepted Windstriker’s offer to have her soldiers help with the burial, and it was Blackwall herself that volunteered to do the majority of the work.

The mood certainly wasn’t helped by the fact that it was still raining, though nowhere near the downpour from the previous night. Blackwall and three of the other townspoines, including Hearthtender, had seen to digging the filly’s grave, and Windstriker had the Underwatch unit all present for the affair, despite the uneasy looks they got from many of the Victor’s Cliff residents. The burial took place along the base of the cliff of the town’s namesake, where a fairly large graveyard was situated. Some of the headstones dated all the way back to the battle that gave the town its name.

Once the funeral was over most of the townsponies in attendance trudged back into town, but Windstriker kept her unit in place out of respect for a time longer, while Sterngaze and Hearthtender approached them. Oddly, Windstriker’s keen eyes caught sight of one of the townsponies, a young stallion, also stayed by Autumn’s grave, head bowed. A friend of the poor filly perhaps?

Blackwall was next to Windstriker, just at the head of the double line of the Underwatch legionnaires, when Harthtender and Sterngaze met with them. Sterngaze still looked like he was in a mind numbed daze, only duly giving Windstriker or anypony else any consideration. Hearthtender had red rimmed eyes from tears both shed and yet to be shed, but she gave Windstriker a nod, and Blackwall a... very pained look.

“Captain Windstriker, I want to thank you, and your unit, for their actions,” Hearthtender said, each word carrying the weight of barely contained sorrow, “Whatever my daughter had become, there’s no telling how many ponies she might have hurt if she hadn’t been stopped. And I know, having seen her... her body that she must have been in great pain.”

She gulped, taking in a shuddering breath, looking to Blackwall and bowing her head, “You ended her suffering. For that... thank you.”

Blackwall’s eyes showed a flicker of regret, but her expression was a still mask as she inclined her head, her own voice stiff, “In the one instant where your daughter spoke as herself, she asked to be stopped. It was courageous. You should be proud of her.”

Hearthtender took a deep breath, “I’d rather be angry with her for a thousand foolish things done while alive than be proud of her in death, but I appreciate your words. Now, however, I desire answers. What happened to my daughter? How did my Autumn Leaf become such an... an abomination?”

“That is a question I have every intention of having my unit discover an answer for,” Windstriker said, trying to keep some of the frustration out of her voice. “My medical experts examined her body as best they could both prior and after her death, but thus far all that’s been confirmed is that she was under the influence of some kind of magic. They’ve assured me that the condition isn’t contagious, but to be on the safe side I’d like to have every pony in town magically scanned.”

Hearthtender’s expression darkened, “I shall convene the town council and bring this up, but there’s already talk of wanting you and your Legionnaires gone. Autumn Leaf was well liked by many, and her death... there are those that blame you and your ponies for it.”

“Be that as it may, the safety of Victor’s Cliff is my responsibility while my unit is in this region. I can’t risk that this magical curse, if that’s what it is, has spread to anypony else. Now we’ll be departing soon enough to explore the forest where we suspect your daughter contracted her condition, but I’m not leaving with the possibility of returning to a town overrun with any more... mutations.”

“I will talk to the council, that’s all I can promise,” Hearthtender said, and started to lead her husband away, but as she did so Sterngaze seemed to snap awake, and grabbed hold of Windstriker’s shoulder. She had to use every ounce of her self discipline to not react violently to the sudden move, recognizing he wasn’t attacking her, merely holding her as he intensely gazed at her with fire igniting in his eyes.

“Promise me you’ll find whatever did this to my Autumn Leaf! Promise me you’ll find it, and kill it.”

Windstriker took a deep breath, meeting Sterngaze’s eyes with a strong look of her own, “If it's something that can be killed, rest assured the Underwatch will exterminate it with extreme prejudice. You have my word of honor on that.”

Whether this satisfied the shaken stallion or if he simply ran out of energy it was hard to tell, but he seemed to deflate in upon himself, letting her go with a weary, exhausted nod. His wife slowly directed him away, giving Windstriker one last, haunted look. Once they were well out of earshot Windstriker turned to her assembled unit, looking them over with critical eyes. Most looked solid enough, so many of them veterans of enough battles to not be too rattled by death. The unique and sickening manner in which this death had occurred might get under the hides of a few of them, but mostly she was concerned with those who had been there. Trixie Lulamoon and Coco Pomelle looked like they were holding up, at least on the surface. Windstriker could see dark circles under both their eyes to show neither had gotten much sleep. It was the younger recruit, Allie Way, that concerned Windstriker. The tall, lanky unicorn looked pale and miserable, barely keeping her head up as she stood staring bleakly at the fresh grave.

I can’t afford to be soft on her, and I equally can’t afford a liability in the unit when the situation has clearly gotten this dangerous. Windstriker briefly considered her options. Her next move was clear enough; investigate the forest outside Victor’s Cliff. All evidence pointed towards Autumn Leaf’s condition being the result of going in there, and while there was certainly danger inherent in sending her unit to the same place, it was their damned job to put their necks on the line so that ponies like Autumn Leaf didn’t end up in early graves.

However she didn’t want to leave the town unguarded, in case they needed a safe fall back position. She’d leave one squad behind to help garrison the town, the attitudes of the townsponies notwithstanding, and assign Allie Way to that squad. It’d give the recruit time to get her nerves under control.

Decision made, Windstriker spread her wings and flew up a bit to address her unit, “Alright legionnaires, as the technical phrase goes; shit just got real. We’ve got one dead filly and that’s one too damned many when it's our job to protect these ponies. Its obvious the Lurkers are involved in this new freakshow and we’re going to find out exactly how, and put a stop to it, ASAP. Snakebite, Wildspell, Blackwall, convene with me at the north gate and we’ll go over the plan. The rest of you get some food in you, pack your gear, and be ready to move out in one hour. Get to it!”

Food didn’t taste like anything other than bland mush to Allie Way, and it sat in a burning acid knot in her stomach. She and the others were eating at the inn, most of the unit packed into the common room after having gotten their gear from their rooms. From the looks the innkeeper and serving ponies were giving them they’d be glad that the Underwatch was heading out soon enough. Allie Way didn’t necessarily blame them. A Legionnaire had killed one of their own, after all.

But it wasn’t like that at all. Blackwall didn’t have a choice. She had to do it to save me... because I froze up. The thought hung like a cold, leaden weight in her gut, making the food she tried to choke down feel even more sour.

She’d been afraid something like this would happen, but had been fervently hoping to avoid it. Or overcome it. She’d thought maybe she’d gained some bravery, or at least a hint of a spine, when she’d attacked the ursan warlord to save Trixie and the others. Had that been a fluke? She tried to reason away the feeling of guilt, but it wasn’t easy. When that poor, mutated filly had come at her Allie Way had simply been unable to act. Was that an understandable thing given the extreme situation, or had it indicated a core cowardice that had cost somepony their life? Even if she had acted, would it have saved Autumn Leaf?

“Stop thinking about it,” said Coldiron, sitting beside Allie Way at the table she shared with Trixie, Coco, and Blossomforth.

“H-huh?”

Coldiron set down the bowl of stew she’d been wolfing down, “You’re thinking about last night. That’s going to chew you up fast if you let it. Just put it out of your head.”

Allie Way licked dry lips, “I don’t know if I can.”

“It was an awful situation,” said Coco, shaking her head sadly, “I wasn’t able to do much either. I understand completely Allie. I’m probably going to remember that poor filly's face until the day I die. But Coldiron’s right, if you think about it too much, it’s going to be that much worse.”

“I just... wish I did something. Anything. Even if it didn’t work, doing something would’ve been better than just standing there.”

“So you froze up, c’mon Allie Way, who wouldn’t have?” said Blossomforth, shaking a spoon at her with one hoof, “I would’ve froze up, pissed myself, and then proceeded to scream in a very high pitched voice if a crazy mutant spider pony came at my face!”

Trixie bopped Blossomforth on the head lightly, “Not so loud.”

“What? Why?” Blossomforth asked, then glanced over her shoulder where the innkeeper was glaring at her. The pegasus mare gulped, looking mortified. “Oh. Right. Um... sorry.”

Trixie sighed heavily, muzzle scrunched up in a tight frown as she said in a low tone, “Why did Blackwall have to do that anyway? She could have tried knocking that filly off of Allie Way instead of... doing what she did.”

“I know you girls are still sort of new to the Legion, but you must understand that Blackwall did the only thing she could have to ensure the survival of her comrades.” Coldiron eyed them all with careful but firm eyes, “I know she’s a hardass, but the bottom line is that Blackwall did what any Legionnaire would have been expected to do under the same circumstances. Its a hard choice, but its one any of you might have to make one day as well.”

Trixie grimaced, blowing some of her mane out from her face in agitation, muttering, “If my magic were stronger I could have stunned her...”

Coldiron shook her head, “Well it isn’t, Trixie, and you can’t go back in time and change that. Neither can Allie Way.”

“I know that,” Trixie said sharply, then continued in a softer tone, “Trixie knows that. That’s what makes it so infuriating.”

Blossomforth leaned forward, her wing stubs flexing for a moment before she winced in realization that she didn’t have the wings to use to give Trixie a comforting pat, instead opting for an awkward touch on the shoulder with a hoof. “We just need to make sure what happened last night doesn’t happen again. That’s our job, right?”

Coldiron gave a thoughtful look, flicking her short brown tail as she tapped the table in a thinking gesture, “We will at that, but finding anything in that forest is going to take a miracle with so few of us here. I heard some of the pegasi on the patrol over that forest talking about it. It stretches near twenty miles north to south, and about half that east to west. That’s a lot of ground to cover, especially given we don’t have any real clue what we’re looking for.”

“The pegasi didn’t spot anything last night?” asked Coco.

“Not before the storm forced them back to town. On top of that the rain would’ve washed out any tracks we might’ve followed,” Coldiron said with a frustrated sigh, rubbing at her horn. Allie Way, despite her funk, noticed the gesture and looked at the petite unicorn with a worry.

“Does it hurt? The... the crack?”

Coldiron huffed out a humorless laugh, “Aches every damned day, but I think the cold and humidity makes it worse. I’ll be fine. More worried about you, Allie Way. Are you going to hold up?”

“I...” Allie Way managed a small nod, “I think so. I’m not trying to drag anypony down. I keep thinking about how I froze back there. I don’t want that to happen again. I can’t let myself be a coward like I was back at Beartrap.”

“Like when you saved our butts?” Blossomforth asked quizzically. Allie way gulped, shaking her head.

“No, before that, when I went and hid from the fighting.”

She had never actually admitted that part to any of her friends. All they knew for sure was that Allie Way had come to their rescue when the ursan Warchief had them on the ropes. Not that prior to that moment Allie Way had been hiding inside the abandoned clinic of the fort, having deserted the battle. Her fear had overwhelmed her after the battlements had been lost and the usrans had broken down the gate, and Allie Way felt all the shame of that fear boil up in her again.

“So that’s what’s been eating at you,” Coco said, “You honestly believe you're a coward? That’s ridiculous.”

“You haven’t told anypony else this, have you?” asked Coldiron, and Allie Way shook her head, to which the Legion mare said quietly, “Good. Don’t. While it probably wouldn’t come up as an issue now that that battle is done and won, the Legion is harsh towards even the scent of desertion. Still, as Coco says, you shouldn’t shortchange yourself. You pulled through when it mattered and saved fellow Legionnaires. You’re still not used to this life, so it's not a sign of cowardice you froze up last night, just that you, like all Heartlanders, are used to living in peace. Give it time, you’ll find acting in such situations second nature after surviving long enough.”

“It’s the surviving part we’re all worried about,” Trixie said, “And wandering into a dank, dark forest chasing Lurkers who can no infect ponies to mutate into freaky hybrids doesn’t sound like the most conducive to that end.”

Coldiron smiled thinly, “Nopony said being a Legionnaire in the Prince’s Legion came with health benefits.”

Trixie stuck her tongue out at Coldiron, but there was no venom in it, only an sort of exasperated comradeship and most the mares at the table shared a short laugh with each other, even Allie Way managing a small chuckle. It helped her feel a bit better, the reminder she was hardly in this alone. Still, she fervently hoped that Coldiron was right, and that next time she was thrust into such deadly events she wouldn’t freeze. Next time Blackwall or another pony might not be there to save her.

Almost as if the thought of the mare had acted as a summons Allie Way heard the heavy hoof clops as Blackwall entered the inn. The last Allie Way had seen of the mare she’d gone off to talk with Captain Windstriker about the unit’s plans. Now Blackwall had a grim look on her face. Well, grimmer than usual. Allie Way wondered if it was because of what had happened in the night, or if it had something to do with whatever she and the other squad leaders had talked about with Windstriker.

Blackwall didn’t say anything as she stomped through the inn’s common room and then went up the stairs to the second floor.

“Wow, she looked ready to chew through a whole box of nails and spit them out as diamonds,” Blossomforth said.

“She looked about the same to Trixie,” said the showmare without much interest.

“I’m going to go check on her,” Allie Way found herself saying, the impulse as sudden as it felt right. She owed the mare her life, after all. She ought to see if everything was okay.

“You might want to give her space,” cautioned Coldiron, but Allie Way shook her head.

“If she yells at me to leave, I will, but I just want to check on her. I... I owe her.”

Allie Way didn’t wait to let her friends argue further, trotting towards the stairs. Besides, it wasn’t as if she was managing to enjoy the meal at all, her stomach still feeling like a boiling pot. She went swiftly up the stairs, making her way to Blackwall's room. Gulping, feeling her mouth dry from nerves, she gave the door a short knock, finding it was already open and it swung out at her knock.

“Hello?” Allie Way stuck her head in.

Blackwall was sitting on her haunches in front of the rooms one small desk, head bowed and eyes closed as she murmured something quietly under her breath. On the desk itself was a gray cloth mat, with sharp white stitching in a pattern that looked like swords along the edges. On the mat was a small statue, made of plain yet carefully carved stone in the shape of a broken horn; not small enough to be a unicorn’s, but rather much larger, not at all unlike an alicorn’s. Blackwall apparently hadn’t heard Allie Way, as she kept murmuring, and Allie Way caught a bit of what she was saying.

“That which is broken can only be remade stronger. Stone carries all burdens.”

Allie Way cleared her throat, saying louder, “H-hello?”

Blackwall looked up sharply, eyes fierce.

“What do you want, Heartlander?” the mare rumbled, standing and turning to face Allie Way.

“I just wanted to see if you were okay. You looked really mad about something. And, uh, I also wanted to...”

She tried to pull her scattered thoughts together, letting her emotions bubble up uneasily in her voice, “To thank you. For, you know, saving me.”

Blackwall stared at her, for a moment almost looking like a statue carved out of onyx. Her voice was lower, less heated, but still hard and carrying a tired undercurrent. “I did what was needed of me. That requires no gratitude. Your thanks is unnecessary.”

“W-well, it's there anyway. I, uh, like being alive, and I wouldn’t be if you hadn’t done what you had to. So just thanks for being there. Anyway, like I said, are you okay?”

Blackwall didn’t immediately respond, glancing back at the mat and statue sitting upon it. Allie Way thought she might be ignoring her until Blackwall said, “Loyalty is what matters most in the Legion. I am a loyal Legion mare. I will never disobey orders, or betray the trust of my fellow Legionnaires. That is not always easy when one disagrees with one's commanding officer.”

“Captain Windstriker?”

“She is making a mistake. I argued with her. That is all there is to it.” Blackwall slowly took the statue of the broken horn and rolled it up inside the gray mat with stitched swords, placing the bundle away into her saddlebags sitting at the foot of the room’s bed, face back to a more impassive mask, “I merely came to pray briefly to clear my mind.”

“Pray? Is... is that what the statue is for?” Allie Way asked, curiosity piqued. Blackwall looked at her, one ear twitching.

“It is not something for outsiders, let alone a Heartlander, to know. Come, Private. The Captain wants the unit at the gates soon. Save your energy for more important matters.”

Blackwall moved with heavy steps out the door, Allie Way jumping aside to let the mare pass. Blackwall paused only once, glancing back at Allie Way with an odd look, almost something akin to softness, if a thick slab of metal could be ever called soft.

“That filly’s death was not your fault.”

“What?” Allie Way took a step back, blinking in shock.

“The filly, Autumn Leaf. Her death is not your burden to carry, so let your guilt rest. I took her life, so the burden belongs solely to me.”

“But-”

Blackwall’s voice turned ironclad, hitting like a hammer on Allie Way’s mind, “Her blood is not on your hooves. Do not take a burden that does not belong to you. You will have enough to carry on those slim, dainty shoulders, in due time. Do you understand?”

Allie Way nodded dully, eyes wide, “Yes.”

“Good, now follow, Private. I do not repeat orders often. Do not come to rely on it.”

The bleak sky rolled with heavy rain, looking like wet cotton and promising an equally damp and cold day. Windstriker reviewed her unit, the two lines of ponies drawn up into four squads at the head of Victor’s Cliff’s north gate. They all looked alert, and Windstriker could feel the anticipation buzzing in them as they awaited her orders. Even Blackwall looked settled down, despite a heated argument over her assignment just half an hour ago.

Windstriker understood. Blackwall wanted to be where she felt she could do the most good, and didn’t seem to realize that sticking close to Allie Way was exactly that. If Allie Way was faltering under the pressure, then only somepony as uncompromising as Blackwall would either keep her in line or be able to just flat out scare the recruit into keeping it together. But damned if Blackwall didn’t hate being left behind. Windstriker sympathized, but she needed a squad to hold Victor’s Cliff while the rest of the unit searched the forest. They’d be returning each evening to rest and resupply. There was no way Windstriker was letting her command get caught out in that forest at night, so they’d have to take this search slowly, and in pieces. She and the other squad leaders had drawn up a grid map, breaking the forest into manageable sections to search, large enough to hit one a day.

She outlined her plan to the Underwatch, giving squad assignments. The last squad mentioned was Blackwall’s.

“Corporal Blackwall, you’ll be in charge of maintaining watch here in Victor’s Cliff and aiding in the protecting of its citizens. Private’s Allie Way and Coalburn, along with Corporals Thrushwind and Sharp Pike are under your command. Understood?”

Blackwall hid a twitch that probably would’ve been a full blown grimace and saluted, “Yes Captain.”

“Alright then, you all know the score! Everypony heading into the forest, form up and move out! Blackwall, keep the place from burning own while we’re gone.”

The huge dark mare went to her assigned squadmates and led them back into the town, Allie Way giving a brief wave towards her fellow Heartlander friends. Blossomforth in particular waved back enthusiastically as the rest of the unit started to march out. Trixie actually gave a bit of a sweep and bow. Windstriker laughed a bit under her breath, shaking her head slightly as she took point at the marching column. You could take the Heartlander out of the Heartland, but not the Heartland out of the Heartlander.

Despite having had some rather unfortunate luck while in them, Leyshi had firmly decided that she very much liked ‘trees’. Not only were they far more interesting looking than stalagmites, but they were usually much, much taller! And the gentle way their little green leaves brushed at her chitin, teasing all the little sensitive hairs on her legs, made Leyshi happy. And of course being back on the surface made her happy too, despite the dangerous nature of her mission.

Perched high on one of the highest branches of one of the many, many trees in the thick forest Leyshi observed the pony settlement. It had taken a long time to follow the old maps and journal notes she’d been given, but Leyshi and her cadre of hunter-caste and spinner-caste had made swift progress across many miles of twisting caverns and tunnels to finally emerge in the region where one of the shards was suspected to be.

Of course there was a slight problem in that Yiviravel’s ancient notes on the Shards were less than complete. Age made some of them unreadable and others were so cryptic as to practically be in code. It was just barely enough to know that one of the Shards that her broodmother wished her to retrieve was located somewhere in the stretching mass of surface stalagmites, these wonderful trees. Leyshi had thought long and hard on how to proceed, and had decided to spend a day or so watching the pony settlement, to determine if there were any surfacer warrior-caste in the area. Caution was preferable to rash action until she understood the lay of web, as it were.

Her patience paid off as she saw a group of nearly three eights of the pony warrior-caste assembling in front of the settlement. She couldn’t make out too many details, but it seemed an odd mix to her, based on what she’d learned of the ponies and their fighting forces from previous observations. Usually they separated their warrior-caste into different groups based on traits, not unlike the Aranea did with their broader castes. Fliers, the magic using ones with the horns, and the large muscled ones all tended to work in separate units for efficiency. This group however was a haphazard mix of these species. A very unusual group.

While she at first assumed this must be the settlement's garrison, she was surprised to see almost two eights of the pony warriors start marching off towards the forest, a bit to the west of where Leyshi and her cadre were hidden. The last remaining warriors, not even a full eight, remained behind and went back into the settlement. How strange. Why were so many pony warriors going into the forest? They couldn’t have known Leyshi and her group were coming, could they!? No, that would be ridiculous. They must be going into the forest for another reason.

For a moment she had a shudder of fear, remembering well the last time she’d been up in a tree, watching ponies. It’d gotten her captured, then tortured for information. Not the most fun she’d ever had, though admittedly it had certainly been an informative experience.

The thought got her brain firing, and an idea clicked into place. Leyshi watched a moment longer, just to make sure that the larger group of pony warriors heading into the forest weren’t doing so too close to her position and that there was no chance of her being spotted before she rapidly scuttled back down the tree, her many legs making long, sinuous strides that got her to the ground in moments.

There, hiding among the dense forest underbrush, were her waiting hunters and spinners, eight of each. Not enough to fight too many ponies openly, but more than enough for an ambush or covert raid. Leyshi had no practical battle experience, but like any of the brood-caste she was bred for the purpose of leading the other castes, and knew the practical theory of warfare. It wasn’t really her element, but her mind turned towards several tactical issues and her idea to resolve them.

Fundamentally her only concern needed to be the completion of her mission as assigned to her by Chirziane. Find and retrieve the Shard. Since she didn’t know the Shard’s exact location her top priority was to find it. That either meant a very long, tedious search of the forest, or extracting pertinent information from another source. Now, having seen the pony warriors here, and going into the forest, she could deduce that their behavior wasn’t much different than hers. They were looking for something. Since it seemed unlikely they were looking for her, they had to be looking for something else. Perhaps they, too, sought the Shard. How they would know about it at all was quite the debatable question, of course.

Leyshi needed information on what the ponies were doing and why. Having been captured and interrogated once herself, she supposed she couldn’t deny it was an effective method of gaining information. And conveniently the ponies had left only a small group of their warriors behind in the settlement, vulnerable to the exact kind of covert raid that the Aranea were good at.

The sharp tang of pheromones from the hunters and spinners around her told her they were ready and eager for orders, and Leyshi let out a few comforting and strong command pheromones, of the kind only a brood-caste could use, and said in soft chittering words, “The ponies are split. We shall take advantage and capture one.”

There were a number of accepting clicks from the other Aranea, and the largest and most senior of the eight hunter-caste clacked his fangs together, saying, “It is daylight. Should we wait for night to stalk our prey?”

Leyshi let a burst of negative pheromones out, “No. The other ponies might return before then. The strange ceiling water of the surface keeps falling, and makes some cover. We will be swift and silent, and be gone before a resistance can be mounted.”

Author's Note

Think I migh've been a little inspired by John Carpenter's "The Thing" with this chapter. That or a bit of Resident Evil. I've always liked mutating and/or morphing creatures in any horror themed situation. it adds an element of unpredictability I enjoy.

Thanks for reading folks, and as always feel free to leave any comments, cirques, or questions you want, as they're all appreciated.

Chapter 5: The Burdens We Bear

Chapter 5: The Burdens We Bear

“It is a trap,” Regarna said flatly, nostrils flaring and expelling mist into the freezing night air. Beside her Ulragnok let out a deep throated rumble of a growl, his claws tearing at the hard stone beneath him in his mounting frustration.

“I know it is a trap! Do you think me blind, Earthsinger!? Always these creatures deal in traps,” he snorted in disgust, his jaws aching with the need to crunch into something bloody and screaming, preferable a damned Aranea. “Yet trap or not we must bring retribution down upon these cowardly creatures, and pile their corpses high to redeem our past failure. How are we to do this if we turn aside every time they lay a trap for us?”

He sensed the other ursa’s own simmering anger, like a tremor in the earth itself. They both stood upon an outcropping of rock looking out upon a wide cliff side within the base of a towering mountain, one of many such snow laden pillars of forest covered stone that marked the deeper territories of the ursan realm. Tracking the Aranea, smashing their small outposts one after another, it had all led to a half a dozen more skirmishes like the one they’d had days ago with the rock slide. No doubt this time too would prove to be some manner of trap, but Ulragnok saw no choice. He would not stop until the last Aranea lay broken at his paws, and with that victory word of his deeds would spread and the stain of the defeat at Beartrap Fortress would be erased.

Through vengence he’d gain back his honor and power, and once he’d assembeled a new, larger horde, he could turn his attention back to the poines that had humiliated him. He wondered if Regarna’s loyalty was predicated soley on the notion that her survival depended on their mutual sucess, or if she too dreamed of vengence as fondly as he did?

“You speak truly,” Regarna said after a moment, voice low and simmering with a mix of anger, frustration, and disgust. With him, the Aranea, or the situation in general, Ulragnok could only guess. “The Demons Below avoid open battle at every turn, and this time too, they drag us along by the nose like fresh-born cubs on our first hunt. I know our only option is to chase them into whatever hole they’ve dug for us, but that does not mean I have to like it.”

Ulraknok watched her claw at the ground, making small yet deep chanting sounds under her breath. If he looked closely he could almost see the tremors in the rock and dirt, followed by a chunk of snow breaking from the edge of the hill and rolling down the steep incline. Behind him he could see the gentler slope on the hill’s other side, where a warband of over fifty of his best braves waited in an uneasy, eager mass if thick fur and pawing claws. These were among his most loyal remaining warriors, who he knew would follow any command he gave. Many of them bore fresh scars not only from Beartrap Fortress, but from engagements with the cursed Aranea.

The rest of his horde was camped less than ten miles away, further down the mountain foothills. They’d moved steadily north and west, following the Aranea’s trail. More than once Ulragnok wondered what the blasted spiders were doing, leading them deeper into ursan territory. He had the angering sensation that he was being led along by the nose. Was it cunning or desperation that led the Aranea to continue provoking him, leading him on this chase?

“The earth speaks to me,” Regarna said with a satisfied grunt, raising her head and nodding towards the distant cliff face, “The stones speak of the Demons Below and their foul presence. There is a cave, hidden by the snowdrifts. Its cavern is vast, and leads to the dark realms beneath the earth. The Demons flee there, but also lay their final trap.”

Ulragnok snorted, “I don’t suppose the stones deigned to give you any details beyond that?”

Regarna looked at him sharply, her glittering eyes flashing dangerously, to which Ulragnok let out a deep growl. He’d welcome her challenge if she desired it. He needed to vent his foul mood, and wasn’t particularly picky about how he did that. Wisely Regarna didn’t press her challening look and instead returned her gaze to the cliff, “The soul of the earth is direct and cares little for details. Our quarry lies in wait within the hidden cave, perhaps only two dozen of them. That is all I know.”

“Hmph, so be it.” Ulragnok turned from her and went to address his braves, holding his head high and speaking in a heavy, hungry tone, “The Earthsinger confirms the cowardly things that prey upon our people now hide in a dank pit within the cliff beyond this hill. No doubt they’ve lain some wretched trap they wrongly hope will save them from the wrath of the ursans! Let us tear and rip them asunder until our jaws run slick with their ichor, and be done with these worthless creatures in our lands!”

His words were met with lusty and heartfelt roars, his braves all eager for blood. It made Ulragnok’s heart swell with a much needed boost of confidence and pride, though it ultimately didn’t do much to quell the tide of rage that surged within. He snorted heavily, glancing the clear night sky. The moon was far from full, but it still cast enough silver light for an ursan’s eyes to bath the world in gleaming hues nearly as bright as day. However once inside the cave the darkness would be absolute.

It was then Ulragnok had an idea that made him bellow in a rumbling laugh. Ursans took pride in their natural strength and ties to the earth, but they did not ignore the power of tools, and among the first of those tools was the great destroyer itself. Fire.

In short order he was giving orders to his braves, and with great effort trees were found and several felled with the combined efforts of many heavily muscled paws. Regarna, once she learned of Ulragnok’s plan, gave a hearty growl of approval and sung to the earth itself to make the work go that much faster. In less than two hours they were ready...

Thirza didn’t like how long it was taking the ursans to arrive. He knew they were not so far behind him and his hunters that it would take them this long to discover the cave he had his remaining three eights of hunter-caste prepared their ambush within. He had already sent the surviving spinner-caste deeper into the cavern tunnels to prepare a second line of defense, for when the time came to fall back either after the ambush was successful, or something went wrong.

Thirza felt little but contempt for the surfacers, no matter the species, but he hadn’t become Chirziane’s lead hunter by making it a habit of underestimating his prey. Ulragnok and his brutish kin had already survived several well laid traps by either proving themselves more cunning or more aggressive then Thirza had predicted. If Ulragnok was holding back, then it was for a reason.

Silently, Thirza released an attention grabbing pheromones directed at his hunters, all carefully hidden at various concealed nooks and crannies across the back half of the vast cavern they’d set their ambush in. Without needing to use a single spoken word Thirza made a few complex gestures with his four front legs, combined with a few specific, command oriented pheromones, to issue orders to one of the three eights. He wanted them to go scout the cave exterior and determine just what the ursans were doing. Depending on what the scouts discovered, Thirza would adapt his plans. He’d chosen this cave because it connected to the larger network of tunnels that ran across this portion of the surface world, so re-positioning his forces would be a simple matter.

The eight scouts proceeded to quickly and silently move from their hiding spots, little more than gliding gray shadows. However just as they reached the cavern exit, largely concealed by a bank of snow, they halted. Thirza tensed, watching them as the lead scout rapidly gestured signals, relaying information in seconds. They were hearing movement right outside the cave entrance? Too large to just be the ursans?

Before Thirza could puzzle out what that meant, or give any further orders, the snowbank covering the cave entrance exploded inward. Most of the hunters sent forward to scout were able to scuttle back or remain clinging to the walls or ceiling, but two or three got caught in the blast of snow and got knocked to the cave floor. Thirza saw that the entrance was now mostly clear, save for what looks like a set of the strange surface-world stalagmites called ‘trees’ that had had their branches cut off and then been bundled together in some kind of makeshift battering ram. Even as he began to issue orders for the scouts to pull back and the remaining hunters to prepare for combat, Thirza noticed a strange flicker of orange light now coming from outside, just beyond the tied together trees that had been used to smash in the cave entrance.

Thirza recolonized the light of fire just seconds before Ulragnok’s ursans, coming in right behind the battering ram they’d sent into cave, started to throw smaller bundles of tied together tree branches that had been lit on fire into the cave. One after another burning bundles of foliage got tossed into a larger pile at the cave entrance. Thirza’s scouts scrambled back, recovering their fallen comrades, while the ursans continued to pile the entrance with so much burning material that it was starting to look like a solid wall of angry orange flame.

And smoke.

Thirza quickly realized the ursans’ plan and cursed himself for not realizing the possibility. He’d hoped Ulragnok would charge in headfirst, which had certainly been the Warcheif’s normal behavior so far, but at most Thirza had anticipated the ursans being a bit more cautious than normal. Being creative hadn’t been on the list of traits he’d associated with the surface barbarians. The flames weren’t a threat, but the smoke from them would prove fatal if Thirza let his hunters stay where they were.

He started to give orders for his hunters to gather so they could retreat to the lower caverns, where the smoke wouldn’t reach them, when Thirza heard the now very familiar bellow of many eights’ worth of ursan throats roaring warcries. Confused, Thirza paused only long enough to look on with shock as a second battering ram, this one carried by a group of burly ursan warriors with Ulragnok himself at the lead, broke through the burning wall like a bursting eggsack.

He’s insane! The ursans are all insane! Thirza thought as he saw the surface monsters simply shrug through the fire, ignoring the embers that licked at their thick hides, and proceeded to charge straight towards Thirza’s now exposed hunters. He realized that had been Ulragnok’s intent. The fire and smoke had been to get Thirza to abandoned his ambush position, to expose his forces in preparation to retreat, and Ulragnoked had timed things perfectly so that charging in now left Thirza and his remaining hunters out in the open and vulnerable.

Seeing the ursans pouring in now from the cave entrance, with Ulragnok at the head roaring so loudly that it shook the very cave walls, Thirza knew to stand and fight meant death. From the moment of birth from the egg an Aranea knows their purpose in life. It is written into the very blood, their caste establishing all aspects of their destiny. Details might vary, from which Broodmother they might serve, what position of authority within their own caste they might achieve, what prestige they might gain and rewards they could earn, but ultimately their purpose is already decided. To fight and die for the protection and greater good of the Aranea race was the purpose of all hunter-caste.

So it was not surprising to Thirza to sense the steady calm among his hunters even as the ursans bore down on them. It wasn’t that they lacked fear, for each and every one of them had the scent of fear pheromones hanging off them like a cold stench. It was simply that the fear was overridden by a lifetime of ingrained purpose and caste pride. If Thirza gave the order each and every single one of these hunters would fight to the death, taking as many of the cursed ursans with them as they could.

However such sacrifice was unseemly. An Aranea who sacrificed something of value for no worthy gain was not noble, but little more than a fool. There was no shame in retreat, especially given the spinner-caste he’d sent back earlier would have the second line of defense prepared by now. The only issue was that the ursan charge was coming on too fast. Without something to slow them down Thirza’s hunters would be trampled while trying to retreat.

You surfacers will learn to cease underestimating the Aranea. Thirza thought with smoldering resentment making his body bristle.

“Drop the ceiling!” he commanded sharply, coiling his legs to make a mighty leap to the roof of the cavern, the majority of his hunters responding to follow suit.

His command was not quite literal, but rather refereed to the dozens upon dozens of stalactites that covered the cave ceiling. All of them had had their bases pre-cut by the hunter’s enchanted, rune gauntlets so that each stalactite hung on by just enough stone to hold fast, but all they needed was the right push to drop. Thirza had prepared this surprise intending it to be part of the ambush he wanted to hit the ursans with, but it’d instead have to suffice as a means to stymie the bear’s charge.

Speed and precision were hallmarks of Aranea fighting ability, so in mere seconds each hunter’s front legs were flashing like glitttering strokes of lighting, the blades on their gauntlets cutting through the remaining stone holding up each stalagtite they struck with the ease of a knife cutting paper. In moments huge spears of stone were dropping upon front front of the ursan charge. The crunch of bone and grinding of bloody meat greeted Thirza’s hearing alongside the howls of the first ursans to die. Ulragnok charged right through the rain of the stone, roaring defiance as one stalactite shattered upon his iron armor and barely slowed the mighty Warcheif. The rest of the ursans were slowed, however, as the front line of the charge was brought to a stagger from the falling stalactites, leaving Ulragnok nearly alone as he charged forward with only a few warriors managing to keep pace.

Thirza was sorely tempted to drop from the ceiling and land upon Ulragnok then and there in a risky gambit to put an end to the Warcheif, but he knew the ursans would recover their momentum in mere seconds and if he wanted himself and his hunters to reach the second line of defense then they had to use the small window they had now.

“Fall back!” he chittered at his hunters, and nearly as one the Aranea turned and rapidly skittered across the walls and ceiling, heading deeper into the cavern.

Ulragnok’s enraged roar echoed, and he made as if to continue charging after Thirza’s hunters alone, but Thirza saw another ursan reach the Warcheif’s side and slow him with a few hastily shouted words. Thirza thought he recognized the female ursan, the one who possessed a strange magic that controlled the earth. Ulragnok slowed at her words. A pity, it would’ve been convenient if he’d continued to pursue ahead of his horde.

With the ursan charge now slowed in confusion, it was more than enough to allow Thirza and his hunters to scurry into the darkness, scuttling into the inky black of the many tunnel openings that lead into the twisting realm of the underworld beyond. Thirza mentally urged the ursans and Ulragnok on, all but inviting them to continue to chase him into a realm where the Aranea reigned and the surfacers, no matter how many in number, would become little more than prey.

“We run them down and finish this!” Ulragnok roared in Regarna’s face, nearly foaming at the mouth. She kept her eyes firmly fixed on his, a stone in the torrent flood of his wrath.

“We hunt them, but not with blind fury. Our charge failed. To continue chasing the Demons Below with mindless abandon would only serve the enemy’s designs. We take this slowly. They will have other traps and defenses in place and shoving our muzzles into them would be madness.”

“Perhaps madness is what I prefer.” Ulragnok spat, jaws salivating with the need for blood. He had them! The Aranea had been right in front of him! Then they’d dropped half the damn ceiling on his horde. Ulragnok seethed. His instincts screamed at him to keep the pressure on. His foes were running. His ursan blood sang for the pursuit of his quarry. To flee was to show weakness and if the Aranea were weak then crushing them under paw was the only response! Why did this cursed Earthsinger keep getting in his way with words of caution?

Probably because she had a lick of sense in her head, and the admission of the fact pissed Ulragnok off to no end.

“Do what you must to speak to the spirits and garner what knowledge you can of what lay ahead,” he said with hard assurance, “But we continue on. We press them, we run them down, and we tear them apart with until our jaws run slick with their blood! Come, warriors! Do you all stop for a few measly rocks pelting our heads! Onward, to bring down our prey!”

His braves, their blood already up and boiling, frustrated at the denial of their initial charge, all roared their approval until it seemed the very caverns walls were shaking in an earthquake. Regarna watched him with an even, unreadable gaze, but closed her eyes with a nod and began to chant in a deep song to the spirits. Ulragnok didn’t doubt her wisdom in advising caution, but it was too late to stop.

He was ending this chase eventually, even if he had to delve into the very core of the world to do it!

Having been born and raised in the Western Barrier Lands, Coldiron had a base knowledge of survival in the woods that practically everypony growing up in such heavily forested country picked up. She was no specialist, but she knew woods, and usually felt confident in her ability to navigate and survive in just about any forest one might care to name.

However the forest outside Victor’s Cliff felt different almost the moment she entered it alongside the majority of the rest of the Underwatch. The forest underbrush was thicker, its trees taller, and the few strands of light that made it through the thick forest canopy was barely enough to illuminate more than gray shadows. More than that, the air simply felt too still, and the normal chatter of forest life was all but muted to only the occasional snap of a twig or rustle of a bush. The most noise being made was by the ponies now shuffling through the forest’s dense and unwelcoming depths.

Windstriker had given orders for the unit to form into three uneven squads, each one staying in visual range of the lights cast by each squad’s unicorns, and to give signals to confirm position every ten minutes. This kept the unit from getting lost or separated as they conducted their search, such as it was. Coldiron was dubious of them finding anything. The forest was gigantic and sprawling, and with their limited numbers searching the whole thing would be borderline impossible. Of course the hope was that whatever that unfortunate young mare had found in here wouldn’t be that deep into the forest. Logically she had to have reached it within only a few hours trotting, given the timing between when she’d last been seen before being afflicted, and when she’d returned to town after she’d been infected with... whatever it had been.

Coldiron felt her spine tingle and her mane bristle with equal parts anger and unease. Ursans she knew how to deal with. As vicious and powerful as the bears were, they at least were a simple, direct threat with an equally simple and direct solution. Bizarre magical afflictions that mutated ponies and warped both their bodies and minds was an altogether new level of wrong. Her disgust with the Lurkers only grew, assuming it was them responsible for this travesty.

“You’re growling,” commented Trixie with a dry tone.

“Was not,” Coldiron said with a disgruntled flick of her tail, then sighed, “Well... perhaps I was. For good reason.”

“I know the feeling,” Coco said from ahead of the pair, the former seamstress stiff and alert as she kept swishing her head back and forth to eye every creeping shadow they passed, which had the result of making her look like a bobble-head.

“What? The growly feeling?” asked Blossomforth, taking up the rear of the group alongside Wildspell, “I’m more on the ‘nervous shiver’ end over here. Does this place remind anyone else of the Everfree, or am I just the only one imagining manticores lying in ambush behind every shrub?”

“A manitcore couldn’t fit in here,” said Trixie, giving a tree a death glare as one of its glow hanging branches snagged her leather battle-coat. With a grumble she flailed a hoof until the offending branch let her go, “I avoided forests in my travels for a reason! There’s nothing good in them. Poisonous things. Carnivorous things. Poisonous and carnivorous things. You can’t eat half of what you find, and the other half wants to eat you. This is what logging is for. Doesn’t the Legion need an ocean-full of toilet paper for all those latrines we dig? Shouldn’t it have cut this forest down by now?”

Coldiron tried and failed to suppress a sigh. She may have come to like Trixie and trust her as a fellow comrade in arms, but there were certainly trying aspects to being in the mare’s presence. Even if she did sort of have a point.

“There has never been a shortage of lumber in the Western Barrier Lands,” she said, “In fact many towns make their living off of logging, since wood tends to be in demand in the other Barrier Lands that lack good sources of building materials. That said, some forests simply haven’t had their turn at the chopping block yet. As large as this forest is, it’s still small compared to the Deepmaw Woods near Skywoad Keep or the Forest of Fogs that cover the border with the Southern Barrier Lands.”

“Yeesh, you guys got forests bigger than this one?” said Blossomforth with an appreciative whistle, “If we ever get weather patrols working out here we’d have our hooves full covering everything.”

“Look, not to be the spoilsport on conversation, but maybe we should keep it down?” suggested Coco, the mare’s pale blue tail flicking in what Coldiron recognized as nervous tension. “If there is anything out here, I’d rather see it coming. Um, please?”

A hint of the mare’s awkwardness was still there, but otherwise Coco was filled with the kind of alertness and serious tone that fit a soldier in the field. Coldiron felt a bit embarrassed she hadn’t thought to shut down the idle chatter herself. Was Blackwall on to something? Was being around Heartlanders causing Coldiron to get too... soft?

“You’re right Private Pommel,” she said firmly, “Everypony, keep it down until further notice.”

“Unless we see something freaky, in which case, scream away,” said Blossomforth.

“Bravely,” Coldiron said, “Scream bravely.”

Blossomforth chortled and gave a quick salute with one hoof before the mares resumed their trek in relative silence, besides the shuffling through the dense underbrush. Coldiron kept her horn glowing brightly alongside Trixie’s, and did her best to ignore the growing ache that started at the base of her horn and seemed to spike its way into her skull. She could practically feel the cracks along her horn’s surface. She could keep this up for hours yet, but the pain would continue to get worse. No doubt Heimlich would give her an earful if he saw her pushing herself, so she let her horn dim just a small bit to keep the pressure off.

Trixie gave her a concerned glance, but said nothing, for which Coldiron was grateful.

Time passed and deeper the ponies of the Underwatch went into the deepening dark of the forest, their progress slow but steady. As uneasy as the forest made Coldiron she was getting used to the shifting shadows and syrupy dark that pressed in from all sides. She personally started to think that there was no way that young filly could have wandered this far in, not without losing her nerve. Too much longer and Captain Windstriker would likely need to call for them to turn back, less they get stuck out here once night fell.

It was then that she heard a shout off to her right, where she could see the unicorn lights from the squad off in that direction halt. She immediately halted herself, letting her horn pulse with a warning signal that the other squad to her left would hopefully see.

“What is it?” breathed Blossomforth, but Wildspell shushed the pegasus with a glance. Coldiron raised her hoof in a signal for the others to take up defensive positions, and Coco readied her claymore, unslinging the massive blade from her back, while Blossomforth held her spear up. Both Trixie and Wildspell lit their horns with overglows of magic, prepared to cast, while Coldiron focused on the lights from the squad that had stopped.

Soon there were flashes of light from that direction, signals from the unicorns over in that squad. Reading the signals, Coldiron said, “They found something, but no immediate danger.”

She sent her own set of signals over to the other squad, and in moments Windstriker and the rest of the left flank squad converged on Coldiron’s squad, both groups heading for the squad on the right to see what they’d found. As they emerged into a relatively clear area they saw their comrades gathered around what looked to be a large cone-like structure made out of a familiar substance.

“Webs,” Coco breathed, glowering.

“Alright, report,” said Windstriker, flying over to the squad waiting by the structure they’d found. Snakebite turned towards her and gestured at the dense cluster of webs, which Coldiron saw was about ten feet tall and twice that around, its strands wrapped around several tree trunks.

“Nearly ran face first into this thing,” Snakebite said, picking up a loose branch and tossing it at the structure. The branch stuck fast to the web-like surface. “I’d say its pretty damn clear who made it.”

“It looks abandoned,” said another legionnaire, a heavy-set earthpony equipped with one of the Western Barrier Lands’ large back-mounted crossbows. He kept his weapon aimed squarely at the entrance to the structure, despite his proclamation.

Windstriker eyed the structure, then looked deeper into the gloom beyond it. “There’s more, further in.”

After a moment Coldiron could see the Captian spoke true, there were at least three or four similar web built domes, or perhaps ‘nests’ might be the better term, deeper in the forest. “I think these are dwellings. Like tents.” she said, “Probably just big enough for two or three of the Lurkers, depending on which type.”

“Sweep the area,” said Windstriker, making swift and commanding gestures with her wings, “Snakebite, cover the right. Coldiron, the left. The rest of you with me. Keep it slow and sharp. I don’t want any surprises crawling out to bite us in the plots.”

With that the Underwatch ponies moved, carefully trotting among the old, dilapidated Lurker dwellings. Coldiron didn’t need to look for long to see that this place had been abandoned for a long time. Even a casual glance inside any of the structures showed that the forest underbrush had largely reclaimed the interiors, and there certainly wasn’t any sign that a living Lurker had been here in years if not decades.

“It’s kinda creepy, isn’t it?” said Blossomforth, poking at some web with the tip of her spear.

Wildspell, looking relatively placid and unconcerned, cast a glance her way. “Creepy?”

“Well, yeah. Think about it. This was like a Lurker village, or maybe an outpost, right? And it was sitting right here, just an hour or two trot from a pony village. Makes you wonder how many more places the Lurkers could just hide out next to your homes without you knowing about it.” Blossomforth frowned as she had to pull hard on her spear, the tip having gotten stuck in the webbing. Wildspell trotted up and with a small and controlled jet of flame freed the spear, blackening and curling the web away. Wildspell gave Blossomforth a level look.

“Focus. The enemy may still be present. Letting your thoughts wander could get you killed. Or me.”

“Right, right, focus. I’m all about focus. Nothing distracts my keen situational awareness.” Blossomforth said, brandishing her spear and turning about left and right to give narrow, suspicious eyes towards random bushes. Wildspell watched her for a moment, shrugged, and continued on.

Meanwhile Coldiron, Coco, and Trixie had pressed a bit further on. The other squads had spread out, checking more and more Lurker dwellings as they appeared. With each conical or dome-like web structure there were also strung up ropes of regular web, interconnecting the structures like a wall. Coldiron realized that they must have been a defensive barricade of some kind. She wouldn’t be surprised if there were smaller webs they’d missed further out that would have been like early warning tripwires. She guessed at least twenty or so Lurkers might have called this place home, when it had been occupied. But why had this outpost been here and what had happened to the Lurkers that built it?

Part of that answer came when Trixie let out a stifled half-shriek, managing to clamp a hoof over her mouth to keep from outright screaming. Coldiron turned to where the other unicorn was staring, and saw the body. It was a Lurker, but clearly long dead. It was one of the smaller types that tossed webbing, and its body was dried out and desiccated, its chitin cracked in several places and stained with long dried blood and pus. It was laying on its back, legs curled in on itself, and Coldiron could see part of its body was webbed to the ground.

Coldiron stepped closer, Coco joining her, her claymore carried in her mouth like a dragging weight. Trixie gulped behind them, letting her horn flare brighter. “Be careful.”

“Pretty sure its dead, Trixie,” said Coldiron, but she remained wary and alert, not eager to let her guard drop. She kept her own horn rimed with magic, despite the pain, just in case she’d need a rapid spell for defense.

Upon closer examination she saw that the dead Lurker was punctured at several points along its abdomen by what might have been knives of some sort, but she suspected instead that they were fangs. The twin nature of each set of punctures suggested it was Lurker fangs that did in this one. Strange. Had the Lurkers fought each other?

Before long others also found bodies, at least eight Lurkers laying dead around the outpost, either inside the dwellings or just outside. Each one was in similar condition to the one Trixie had spotted. Most bore fang wounds and signs of being retrained by webbing. One in particular drew the Underwatch’s attention, just at the opposite edge of the outpost. Snakebite and Heimlich both examined this body closely to confirm their suspicions, and Coldiron felt a uncomfortable twist in her gut seeing the body. This Lurker looked different than the others. It’s body had sprouted additional limbs, like twisted chitin spears, and its face had been split down the middle in an unnaturally large maw of dual sets of fangs.

“You’re sure?” asked Windstriker, glancing between Snakebite and Heimlich. Both stallions looked less than thrilled, Snakebite running a hoof through his mane.

“Not without taking the body back to town where my lab gear is, but the basic look of the mutation is the same. Pretty sure I can lay a bet that this Lurker was being mutated the same way Autumn Leaf was.”

“Da, ist mine conclusion as well,” said Heimlich, grimacing, “It is too similar to be coincidence. May I take samples for study, Captain? I wish to compare condition of Lurker’s body to what I know of Autumn Leaf’s remains. See what similarities und differences there are.”

“Do it, but take every precaution,” said Windstriker, her nose curling, “This whole situation is smelling worse by the second, and I don’t need any infected legionnaires. Seeker, your squad holds position here. Keep our path out clear. The rest of us will continue on, see if this outpost was guarding anything.”

Much of the webbing that surrounded the outpost had fallen away, leaving clear and easy spots through which the legionnaires could walk through. Windstriker led the onward, and Coldiron kept a steady pace alongside her squad. Next to her, Trixie gulped, leaning in to whisper, “What do you think it is? A magical curse? Dark magic?”

“I think speculation is pretty pointless,” replied Coldiron flatly, “We’ll either find out what’s causing these mutations, or we won’t.”

“I hope we find it,” said Coco, voice heated, “We can’t let something that defiles ponies like that be free to do so again.”

“I don’t think this is the kind of thing you can just whack with a sword, Coco.” Blossofmroth said with a nervous twitch of her wing stumps.

“We can always try burning it,” said Wildspell, not exactly smiling, but rather having a small lip spasm that might’ve been a smile in some other, bizzaro dimension. For a moment there was a rather manic shine to her eyes that made Coldiron glance at the other legion unicorn sidelong. She didn’t know much about Wildspell, though her assessment of the mare up until that point was that she was terse, stoic, and steady minded. But something in that not-smile and eye gleam made Coldiron revise her assessment and consider the possibility that she might need to keep an eye on Wildspell... just in case.

Blossomforth, trotting alongside Wildspell, seemed to like the mare’s plan. “I’m down with burning any bad juju we come across.”

“Bad juju? Like zombies?” asked Trixie, shuddering, “Trixie refuses to deal with zombies. We see zombies, somepony else can deal with them. We’re the Underwatch not the Zomberwatch.”

Coldiron just blinked at both of them, “You two are quite nuts, you know that, right?”

“Trixie is not ‘nuts’, she’s imaginative.” Trixie declared, and Blossomforth agreed with a enthusiastic bobbing of her head.

“Yup, we just see things that other ponies don’t see.”

“Pretty certain that’s one of the definitions of insanity,” Coldiron muttered, but without rancor. She noted that even Wildspell had the ghost of a smile on her face. Coldiron supposed the banter was probably doing everypony some good, given the tense situation. Marching into the unknown was never easy, taxing even the strongest resolves.

If anything the forest seemed to grow darker as they moved beyond the abandoned Lurker outpost. The jagged branches of the trees overhead appeared to close in, becoming more dense and grasping downwards like crooked talons. Coldiron licked her lips and kept her horn ready with a steady stream of magic.

After a few more minutes of trotting there was a whistle off to the left as one of the legionnaires signaled he’d found something. In seconds Windstriker flew over to hear his report, and Coldiron could hear just enough to pick up on the conversation.

“Tracks, Captain,” said the legionnaire, whom Coldiron recognized now as Snakebite. “I think this is our young filly.”

Windstriker glanced up at the incredibly thick forest canopy. “I bet the rain couldn’t even penetrate, this deep into the woods. Wiped out the tracks further out, but not here. You sure these tracks are Autumn Leaf’s?”

Snakebite snorted, gesturing at the ground where presumably the tracks were, through Coldiron certainly couldn't see them from where she was. “How many pre-teen mares do you think wandered in here?” At Windstriker’s brief yet blade sharp look he gulped and added, “Captain ma’am.”

“Alright, we must be getting close to the source of all this.” Windstriker flew up a few paces distance, “Take the lead, Corporal.”

“Yes ma’am,” Snakebite said, but there was a nervous tremor in his tone that suggested he was less than thrilled with taking point.

Forward they went, and they didn’t have to go far. Within only another few dozen yards the tracks led straight to something of a clearing in the middle of the insanely dense forest. The clearing was just wide enough to contain a depression in the ground, like a tiny ravine, though to Coldiron’s eyes the depression looked too smooth and circular.

The Underwatch emerged from the forest edge into this clearing, all halting at the rim of the depression, most momentarily stunned. The reason for this was standing tall and plain for all to see in the middle of the clearing, and for a second or two nopony spoke, all just staring at the giant silver shard that impaled the ground at the center of the depression. It was easily twice the size of a pony, perhaps even a little taller. The sharp, tapered shard looked as if it was made of a highly reflective, silver metal, so polished that it was almost like a mirror.

The shard seemed to emit a soft white glow, though Coldiron wasn’t sure if that was literal or just a trick of the many unicorn lights currently reflecting off the shard’s surface. Certainly there was something about the shard that immediately set off warning bells in her head, leaving her feeling uneasy even as she couldn’t quite tear her eyes away from the object.

Even so, she noticed there was a Lurker corpse in the depressing, old and desiccated like the others, and laying at the foot of the shard. Something about the Lurker’s posture nearly suggested a gesture of supplication, from Coldiron’s perspective, but perhaps she was just imagining things.

The silence between the Underwatch legionaries lingered a few heavy moments longer before Snakebite cleared his throat loudly and said, “Right, so... who wants to poke it first?”

Diligent pursuit of duty was among the more calming balms for an otherwise troubled mind, Blackwall reminded herself. She still felt a acidic disagreement with Captain Windstriker’s decision to split off a portion of the unit and leave her and a single squad behind, but she’d resigned herself to following orders with due discipline.

Now if only everypony else could follow suit.

“Be alert, Private. Unless you consider clouds a potential threat to the security of the town.” she said in blunt manner, keeping the more heated elements of her attitude in check as Allie Way gave a slight start and blinked at her, having just been staring up into the sky with a look nearing glazed boredom.

The Heartlander unicorn’s creme colored features flushed red and she sputtering, “S-sorry. I, um, won’t do it again.”

“See that you don’t or I can find something else to occupy your attention with, such as working on putting some muscles on that twig of a body. Did they not put you through any physical training at Beartrap Fortress?”

The pair were walking along the east wall of the town, Blackwall’s eyes never ceasing to scan the surrounding terrain. There were a few town militia on the walls as well, but they gave the pair of legionnaires as much space as they could, seemingly nervous by the pair. Or maybe just by Blackwall, she wasn’t certain. It only entered Blackwall’s mind because it made her evaluate the potential of the town’s residents as possible threats, if for whatever reason they decided they didn’t want the Underwatch around.

Meanwhile Allie Way let out a shaking, half-hearted laugh, “Well they kind of tried to get us going on a training regimen, but that lasted only until the-” her eyes suddenly went distant for a second and the mare shuddered, “-the bears showed up.”

Blackwall grunted at that, still amazed that this mare had survived that battle at all. It wasn’t a thought driven by malice, but simple baffled observation and absolute belief that Heartlanders did not belong in combat. By all reasoning Allie Way shouldn’t be here. None of the Chosen should be. But they were, and the fact stuck a knife right into Blackwalll’s mind and continued its slow, aching twist. There was no hatred here. Not for the Heartlanders. No, her hatred was focused firmly upon those responsible for this debacle, this utter betrayal of the Legion’s duty.

But those traitors were beyond vengeance, now, having already been executed for their crime. The thought was a hollow one to Blackwall, at any rate. It didn’t change that the Heartlanders were now here, part of the Legion. The Legion that had been forged to defend them, whose very existence was for the sake of preserving the Heartland’s peace.

Now, no land in the world would know peace. What purpose then did the Legion serve? Why had she dedicated her life so wholeheartedly to fighting for this cause if the cause itself could be so easily abandoned?

She felt the stone statue wrapped carefully in her saddlebag like it weighed ten times what it did.

Prince and Stone give me strength to bear this burden. I know not what to do.

“Um, Blackwall? Hey, Blackwall! Are you in there?”

She immediately halted, blinking. Allie Way was looking at her worriedly, a vision of softheartedness wrapped up in Legion trappings, but the mare now keenly reminded Blackwall that she’d just been ruminating so hard she’d near forgotten to pay attention.

“I’m fine,” she said irritably, flicking her tail as she resumed their patrol.

The reached the north edge of the wall and started making their way west. The huge carpet of towering evergreens loomed in the distance. Somewhere in there the rest of the Underwatch was searching for signs of the Lurkers, or whatever had caused that filly to transform into a monster. Blackwall muttered a quiet prayer for them. And for the filly, while she was at it. She felt no pride in her actions the other day, only a grim acceptance that it had been necessary.

“Um, if this is a touchy subject just say so, but what’s with that statue you carry around? The one of the broken horn?”

Anger flared, hot and intense, along with memories of a village long lost and the smashed remains of two ponies collapsed on top of her. Blackwall shoved the memory aside, along the the anger, smashed it down with the mental image of cold, uncompromising stone. Her voice was hard as a boulder as she spoke.

“I have told you once that it is not for you to know. Why press the subject?”

Allie Way’s eyes flickered towards the ground for a moment, then rose with a openness about them, a sort of reaching vulnerbility. “We might die together, someday. I don’t want to spend all that time not knowing the ponies I’ll die for, or who might die for me.” A kind of nervous, strangled laugh escaped her again, “I mean, if you die Blackwall, what am I supposed to say at your funeral? ‘Here lies Blackwall, she was standoffish and liked her horn statue a lot’?”

A strange noise huffed out of Blackwall’s lips, and it took her a moment to realize it had been a laugh of her own. Odd, she usually didn’t do that. She eyed Allie Way, annoyed, but not as angry as she’d been a moment before. They’d reached about two thirds of the way across the north wall, and Blackwall halted a moment, taking a deep breath.

“The statue represents Prince Terrato’s broken horn, an injury he received doing battle with Fenrir in ages past. It is a symbol of my... faith. Worship of the Prince is not encouraged, but worship of a symbol of his sacrifice and the ideals that represents is... tolerated. My parents were of this faith, the Stone Bearers. I carry on the tradition. There are not many of our sect, perhaps only a few hundred per city, and far fewer in the smaller towns. Here in Victory’s Cliff I’m probably the only one.”

“So its some kind of spiritual belief? Not quite a church, more a...” Allie Way struggled for a moment, and Blackwall could imagine the mare was trying to find a word to use other than ‘cult’, “Community of like-minded ponies?”

“We are those who believe in following the example of our Prince and embracing the nature of stone. Stone carries all burdens. It is the belief that we, as ponies of the Barrier Lands, exist as a stone wall between the terrors without, and the peace within.”

“Monsters like the ursans and the... the Heartland, right?” Allie Way asked, ears lowering.

“Yes. Some see the Legion as a mere job. Others as a injustice to complain about or...” Blackwal growled, “Betray like cowards. But we of the Stone Bearers know our burden is a task of spiritual importance. It is we who have the burden to bear, and to bear it like stone; strong and eternal.”

Saying the words, which were familiar ones, spoken by both her mother and father, left Blackwall both warm and incredibly tired. The words offered comfort and assurance, an old familiar mantra, yet the stark reality left her feeling exhausted. What good were the words, or the faith that spoke them, if it had all been for naught? The ones to be protected now stood to bear the same burden Blackwall had believed she and those like her had been forged to bear alone.

“Hey, um, I know you’re probably still mad at us. Heartlanders I mean. This Stone stuff sounds like its really important to you, and having us here kind of messes with all that, right?” said Allie Way, her voice awkward as it fumbled for words, “But that doesn’t make your belief wrong. You’re still carrying the same burden. Its just that the ponies you’re carrying it for are next to you, instead of behind you.”

Blackwall grunted, “Coldiron said something similar. Its not so simple a thing. You should not trouble yourself over it.”

“Listen, I’m going to trouble myself over it, because like it or not, we’re kind of stuck with each other,” Allie Way said, voice raising slightly, which surprised Blackwall. The unicorn still looked nervous, but there was a odd light of conviction in her eyes too, unsteady as it was. “I’m scared half to death most the time. I want to know I did everything I could for everypony I could, because far as I know at any moment something terrible could happen that leads to any of us just dying for no good reason! I...”

Allie Way took in a trembling breath, “I watched so many ponies die at Beartrap. I should have been one of them, but somehow I didn’t, and ever since I feel like I’ve been living on borrowed time. I’m not spending what might be the last days, weeks, or months of my life being scared of my comrades. So just stop acting so damned standoffish and realize we Heartlanders are here to stay, and you better figure out how to deal with that, okay!?”

Blackwall stared at the other mare for a good long minute, Allie Way turning a bit pale as the fact that she’d just been yelling at a higher ranked legionnaire, and one who was usually in a bad mood most the time, started to sink in. Blackwall for her part took in what Allie Way said, not quite showing what she might be thinking on her face. Eventually she said, “It occurs to me that we both have a poor impact on the other’s sense of discipline. We’ve spent more time talking than patrolling. Perhaps the rest our patrol should pass in silence.”

Allie Way gulped and nodded, “Yeah, silence sounds good.”

Blackwall returned the nod and then turned to resume their patrol.

However it was at around that time that she noticed a scuttling sound from the wall itself, and looked down just in time to see a spidery shape rushing up the wall, unleashing a thick strand of thick web from its abdomen. The web hit Blackwall squarely in the face, and before she had a moment to react or brace herself, she was yanked squarely off the wall.

She heard Allie Way shout her name as Blackwall went into free fall. Her eyes were un-obscured by the web covering her mouth, nose, and a good part of her neck. She knew the wall was a good twenty feet high at least, but the ground was muddy and soft from the previous night’s rain, so her odds of surviving were decent. Just not without likely breaking a leg or two. Still, she forced her panic down and tucked her body in, ready to try and bounce and roll to her hooves.

Instead of the painful impact she expected, instead she hit something stringy that stuck to her hide and armor. Glancing around she saw she’d fallen right onto a web that had just been strung up between two more Lurkers beside the one that’d pulled her off the wall. Both spiders immediately leaped to start trying to wrap her up in the web they’d caught her in, but Blackwall flexed her forelegs and tore as hard as she could, ripping web as she went. The web was still thin enough that she was able to escape, chancing one look to see that it wasn’t just one Lurker who’d gone up the wall, but four. Three of the small web-shooting types, and one she recognized from briefings as a ‘hunter’, its huge body covered in bristling fur and bearing bladed gauntlets etched with glowing runes.

Allie Way was looking over the wall, and upon seeing the Lurkers cried out, her horn blazing alight with a nimbus of pale teal. One of the web spinning Lurkers jumped up after her, throwing web, but Allie Way dodged and cut loose with a ball shaped aura of magic that rolled through the air and knocked the Lurker off the wall.

Blackwall couldn’t see any more than that as she had to deal with the Lurkers in front of her. She couldn’t breath past the web on her face, and estimated she had only a minute or two before she’d run out of breath, but in battle minutes were akin to hours. She rushed the Lurker to her left, lashing out with a hoof. It sidestepped with the agility and speed Blackwall had been told to expect from their kind, so she’d already prepared a follow up. She planted her left fore hoof into the muddy ground and pivoted on it, spinning around and kicking out with her right hindleg. The move was timed just well enough to catch the Lurker in the face, and Blackwall’s prodigious strength, not to mention the thick metal greaves she wore, crunched the thing’s face in a shower of ichor.

The other Lurker, seemingly undisturbed by its companion’s demise, reared up and started making fast motions with its own forelegs. These motions warped and twisted the web it spun out of its spinnerets, and Blackwall saw a runic sigil form that then blazed with green magical light. Blackwall had no idea what magic the Lurker was working, but she knew she didn’t want to stay still. She threw herself to the side just in time to avoid a bolt of emerald fire that splashed across the mud where she’d been standing.

There was a sharp whistle in the air, coming from another Lurker nearby, this one larger than the web spinners, but in very similar shape, with a big bulbous body covered in dark chitin with oddly colorful blue stripes. This Lurker was joined by around four more spinners and another pair of the hunters, and Blackwall realized she wasn’t going to be able to handle them all... especially when she saw Allie Way get picked up by the hunter on the wall and covered in webbing from the two other spinners left up there.

Militia ponies of Victor’s Cliff, seeing what was happening, were scrambling to come help. No doubt the other Underwatch ponies, who would have been on patrol in the town streets, would also be on their way, but it would be too late to help, Blackwall knew.

So instead she resolved to do what damage she could before going down. If she hurt the enemy enough it might weaken them to the point where they’d abandon any attack on the town. Growling and using one hoof to tear away some of the webbing from her snout, she lowered her head and broke into a full galloping charge towards the larger group of Lurkers, containing the blue stripped one she imagined was the leader.

She covered the distance quickly, but not so fast that the two hulking hunters couldn’t get in her way, forming a wall of skittering legs and raised gauntlet blades. Blackwall came on, putting on more speed, hooves thundering. When the hunters smashed their bladed gauntlets down towards her she pitched herself forward into a roll that took h er through the descending curtain of blades and landed her right under one of the huge Lurkers. She then heaved upward with all her might, smashing her back into the Lurker’s underside, lifting the thing completely off the ground and tossing it through the air like a log.

She then spun on the other one, ducking one of its slashing gauntlets and then reaching in with her forelegs to wrap around the Lurkers’ extended appendage. With a heave she tore the limb free, the joints popping out with a burst of thick blood. Blackwall then twisted around with full momentum and smashed the Lurker’s own leg, bladed gauntlet and all, into its chest, tearing a huge bleeding gouge out of it. It chittered and fell back, remaining legs flailing.

It was then, while Blackwall was still unbalanced from that maneuver, that the four web spinners started hitting her with ropes of web, pulling her further off balance. Despite having several limbs pulled out from under her, Blackwall snarled and yanked one of the spinners close, punching it repeatedly in the abdomen until chitin broke, ichor flowed, and the Lurker squealed.

Then somethng happened that made Blackwall freeze for a second. She heard a voice speak in a high pitched squeak.

“No no no, bad pony, stop flailing. We only want to make you talk interesting words, so sleep now please.”

It was the blue stripped Lurker who had spoken, in a voice that was unmistakable feminine yet somehow utterly off from normal speech as it pushed air out of a mouth not meant for the language of ponies. As it spoke this Lurker spun web as well, turning out a series of runes into a web it angled towards Blackwall. The runes on the web flashed with bright light, creating a shower of dust-like sparks that bathed Blackwall’s head, and suddenly she felt incredibly tired. She struggled to stay awake, even managing to stand while dragging another Lurker down, but it was like having her body pressed under a thousand warm blankets. Her very blood felt hot and heavy as molten lead.

The last thing she saw before passing out was that Allie Way was being dragged by, completely wrapped in webbing as well.

Author's Note

Whew, took me entirely too long to do this chapter, but we're moving right along. The ursans are chasing the Lurkers into the underworld, and it won't be long before our Underwatch heroes will be following suit, once they figure out what the heck the deal is with these shards. Oh, and Blackwall and Allie Way figure out how to get out of their present predicament.

Hope you folks continue to enjoy reading, and let me know what you think of things. 'Till next time.

Chapter 6: Endurance

Chapter 6: Endurance

Panic caused Allie Way to thrash against the web holding her fast, despite the clear futility of the action. She was desperately breathing through her nostrils, her mouth covered by the thick, sour web that clung to her entire body. Her eyes frantically glanced about, her thoughts so scattered by fear she couldn’t even tell which directions the Lurkers were dragging her and Blackwall. The sounds of the Lurkers and their many scrabbling feet on the wet ground made a constant patter of scratching noise that only made Allie Way’s nerves more raw. Breathing so heavily through her nose, she couldn’t help but notice that the giant spiders had a slick, pungent odor like burnt toast mixed with old grease. It made her stomach roil.

While she couldn’t be certain just how long she and Blackwall had been carried along, she didn’t think much more than an hour had gone by before before she was roughly shoved up against a tree. One of the web spinning Lurkers scuttled up to her and webbed her to the tree, leaving her hanging there like a morsel waiting to be devoured. Allie Way was sure that was the fate that awaited her, and the thought left her heart pounding in abject panic. Any second she expected to feel the terrible pain of fangs puncturing her helpless body, filling her burning venom that’d liquefy her insides. She cursed her fillyhood schoolteacher who’d insisted on such thorough biology classes, which among other things had included and entirely too detailed lecture on arachnids.

What made it all worse was that she could also see Blackwall strung up in a tree no more than ten paces across from her, even the huge and powerfully muscled earth pony mare was helpless under the sheer layers of webbing holding her down. Allie Way didn’t want to die, she was terrified of the idea... but knowing she’d dragged Blackwall to her death as well was so much more painful a thought to bear.

I shouldn’t have been distracting her with my dumb, dumb questions! If I’d just kept my big mouth shut... oh Allie Way, you stupid pony, you’ve gotten both you and her killed. You’re both going to die horribly any second now, and it’s all your fault.

Much as it made her burn up with shame, she started to cry. She just couldn’t help it. This was too much. She started to wish for the Lurkers fangs to come, just so it could all be over and done with!

To Allie Way’s utter shock, instead of fangs she felt a cold, chitinous claw on her cheek, wiping away her tears. Then a high pitched, scratchy voice spoke.

“Did you know it took me months to discover that when your species makes water from your eyes it can mean all sorts of things? Its very interesting. It can mean you’re in pain, or that there’s stray objects in there, or it’s also a sign of sadness, but also happiness too? Its very odd. I keep thinking there must be a scent component as well, but I’ve never found any ‘onions’ to test the theory on. So, female pony, are you sad, or hurt, or happy? Probably not happy, I suppose, but you never know.”

Allie Way just blinked at the female Lurker with baffled shock. After a moment the Lurker made a soft chittering noise, tapping Allie Way on the head with her claw. “Hello? Miss pony? Why do you not answer me? Wait, how obvious, your mouth is still covered in web! Just a moment.”

With swift, deft motions the Lurker used the sharp edges of her fore claw to cut the web around Allie Way’s mouth. Allie Way took that opportunity to scream from the very bottom of her lungs. Her scream caused a bristling rustle to flow over several other nearby Lurkers, one of the large hairy ones looming over her with its fangs clacking menacingly, but the female Lurker made a sharp whistling sound and Allie Way thought she smelled a strange, almost syrupy sweet tang in the air. The big hunter Lurker backed down and the female returned her attention to Allie Way.

“I’m sorry but could you stop making that noise? It irritates my hunters, and they’ve been so very good and brave today.”

“G-good!? Brave!? You attacked us!” Allie Way shouted, breathing heavily as she tried to calm her racing, panicking mind. The deep breaths weren’t exactly helping that much.

“We had to attack to capture you. It was only sensible.” the female Lurker said as if stating an obvious fact to a less than bright child. “Prisoners can be asked questions. Even you ponies do this. I know. It was done to me.”

“Huh? Done to... you?” Allie Way only became more confused.

“Oh yes yes, you ponies captured me not long ago. Hurt me, asked questions. I tried to learn. I like learning. So I am taking what I learned about ponies. Capture, hurt, ask questions. I hope I won’t have to hurt you too much to get answers. Oh, I’m Leyshi. Let’s start with that. Names are important. What’s your’s?”

Allie Way was about to answer, but a movement from Blackwall caught her eye. Blackwall had manged to turn her head, despite all the webbing holding her fast to the tree she was pinned to. She stared right at Allie Way with her dark eyes flaring with a deathly intensity. Blackwall shook her head, once, and the message was clear; don’t tell the Lurkers anything

Allie Way gulped, fear that already had a strong, clawing grasp on her heart spreading further through her to chill her belly. It didn’t take a particularly bright pony to see where this situation was going to go. The Lurker, Leyshi, had just spelled it out. Talk, or torture.

Brave... I have to be brave... Allie Way told herself, and tried to find that spark of fire that had helped drive her to her one act of courage during the battle of Beartrap Fortress. It was a small flicker, barely enough to hold back the cold freeze of terror, but Allie Way clung to it defiantly.

Leyshi made another chittering noise, an uneven clacking and her body tilted oddly on its eight legs, very much like the way a pony might cock its head in curiosity.

“No name? Or is this a choice? You won’t speak to me? Yes, that does make sense. Other ponies brought to me in Highbounty often refused to talk to me. But some would. That’s how I learned your talk. So let me ask, please female pony, talk to me. I don’t want to hurt you, but hurting you is what I will do. Broodmother Chirziane has given me a task, and you know things I need to know.”

Tears of fear still streamed down her face, but Allie Way kept her mouth grit tightly closed and managed a small shake of her head within the confines of the webbing keeping her still. If only her horn wasn’t so thickly wrapped up she might have gotten away with a spell. Not escaped, but maybe killed the Lurker in front of her, who was clearly in charge of this group.

Leyshi made a soft hissing sound, and the air filled with a sharp, acidic scent. There were more chitters and hisses as more Lurkers emerged from the surrounding shadows, and the big hunter from before leaned down, its every fiber radiating menace.

“Then I’m sorry, little pony.” said Leyshi, “When the pain becomes too much, just scream ‘stop’, and then we can get back to questions.”

The hunter drew closer, its horrific, alien face filling Allie Way’s vision. its eight gleaming, black pearl eyes looked at her without any trace of merciful emotion. Its fangs opened, one going for Allie Way’s shoulder, almost gentle. Allie Way’s heart started to race faster, her fear rising higher with every inch the fang drew close to her flesh.

Even braced for it, when the fang sunk in, and the venom started to pump in, Allie Way couldn’t have been prepared for the pure fire of agony that washed through her every vein.

Her scream echoed loud and hauntingly through the forest, but there were none but Lurkers and Blackwall to hear.

“Nopony is touching anything until we have a better idea of what we’re dealing with.” said Windstriker bluntly as she flew up and turned about to face the gathered members of the Underwatch, face stiff and serious as a blade to the throat. “Wildspell, you take point. Coldiron, Trixie, prepare to back her up with an array if she needs it.”

Trixie glanced with questioning curiosity between the mysterious shining metal shard in the crater that sat before them, and the inscrutable Wildspell who started to trot forward with slow, cautious steps. “Um, Captain Windstriker, might I ask what exactly Wildspell is going to do with that shard that’d require an array?”

“It might not need an array, but Wildspell is our most experienced unicorn when it comes to strange and exotic types of magic.” Windstriker said, eyeing the shard. “I want to know what this thing is, because I’ll eat my own damned wings battered and fried if this shard isn’t somehow responsible for all the trouble in Victor’s Cliff.”

Coldiron nudged Trixie’s leg and said, “Move, Private. Let’s back up Wildspell.”

Trixie nodded, pushing back a nervous gulp. She didn’t much like that. That shard gave her a feeling not unlike having cold ice water slowly drip down the back of her neck. Still, if she could face a charge of bloodthirsty ursan warriors, she could deal with walking a little closer to an inert metal shard. Stepping down the small crater edge, Trixie joined Coldiron in following Wildspell, who didn’t go far before halting about five or six paces from where the shard jutted upward from the ground.

Wildspell’s face tensed in a deep frown as she looked the shard up and down. Coldiron exchanged a glance with Trixie before saying, “Are you feeling anything strange?”

“...I’m not sure.” said Wildspell, lips pressed tightly as she scrutinized the shard. “Do either of you feel a pull towards it? Like having a hoof on the back of your withers?”

‘No, not particularly-” Trixie began to say, taking a step forward, and stopped mid-sentence as her eyes locked onto the shard. Suddenly she felt as if the shining metal expanded to fill her vision, enticing in the strange ways its reflective surface bent her image. An urge to reach out and touch the shard filled her, and before she even knew it she’d taken several more steps forward.

“Trixie!” Coldiron grabbed her around the neck and hauled her backwards, startling Trixie out of her daze.

“H-huh!? What...what just-” Trixie shook her head, blinking rapidly as she rubbed at her head, “What happened?”

“Well Prince shit a brick, I’d say that confirms that thing ain’t exactly normal.” said Snakebite, and several other Underwatch ponies started to shift nervously. Windstriker, tail swishing in agitation, flew down next to Trixie.

“Did that thing just try to get into your head, Private?”

“Trixie doesn’t... I mean I don’t know.” admitted Trixie, slowly patting Coldiron’s hooves to indicate that the other mare didn’t have to keep holding her. “One moment I was looking at it, and the next I just felt the need to touch it. It felt so sudden and natural its like my mind didn’t even question what it was doing.”

Windstriker cast a quick glance at Wildspell. “Are you feeling the same thing?”

Wildspell nodded, “Yes. Run into mind affecting magic before, sort of expected here, so shielded my mind.”

“And you let me get closer to it!?” Trixie blurted, and Wildspell shrugged.

“Wanted to see how it’d affect an unshielded mind, and you were dumb enough to trot forward. Now we know.”

A sharp sigh escaped Windstriker, “While I appreciate the inquisitive thinking, say something before you let a teammate be a guinea pig next time, Corporal. Now when you say ‘shield your mind’ are you talking magic?”

Wildspell shook her head, “Nope. Just a mental technique. Anypony could do it. Just focus, think of something solid, like a wall, or a favorite memory, maybe about a lover. Takes up enough of your thoughts that mind altering magic slips off easier. Not entire. I still feel it, but I’m not blindsided into doing what it wants.”

“So this thing is just projecting a field around itself, about five paces out, that makes ponies want to touch it?” asked Coldiron. “Can we assume that’s what happened to that filly?”

“Wouldn’t doubt it. Now... here’s the risky part, Captain.” Wildspell said, turning a serious look towards Windstriker. “I can try a few different detecting spells, but touching it with my magic might make my mind vulnerable. I’ll do it with your permission, but with the understanding that I might be compromised the moment my magic hits this thing.”

“That’s why I want Coldiron and Trixie backing you up with an array.” said Windstriker, “I figure three minds are stronger than one.”

Wildspell tilted her head to the side, looking thoughtful, one ear twitching. “Might be. Or it might get all three of us. Your call, Captain. You might have to restrain us, or put all three of us down, if that thing takes us over.”

“Can Trixie volunteer for a different job now?” Trixie asked, only to hold up a hoof as Coldiron gave her a hard look. “A joke. We’ll take the risk together.”

“That’s my call.” said Windstriker, but she nodded, “But we sure as shit can’t just leave this thing here without trying to figure out what it is, and that means somepony’s going to need to scan it with magic. I’m not letting anypony touch the damned thing, that’s for sure. Wildspell, do it. Trixie, Coldirion, back her up. Snakebite, since you’re in full snark mode you can get down here to help restrain them if need be. Halberd, Rednail, you two get down here too.”

Trixie watched as Snakebite rolled his eyes and approached, along with two of the larger, burlier earth pony stallions in the unit. Halberd wasn’t as large as Blackwall, but he was wider but a fair margin, possessing a steel gray coat with a pale green mane and beard which were both judiciously braided. He carried his namesake weapon mounted to his side like a lance and wore heavy plate armor. His companion, Nail, was a bit shorter and much skinnier, reminding Trixie somewhat of the baker’s husband from Ponyville, with a similarly prominent chin. Nail’s coat was stark white, with his mane a more rusty brown color. His weapon of choice was one of those back mounted crossbow harness, primed and loaded, and he wore lighter chain-mail armor rather than plate.

“So, our only job is to hold down some lovely mares if they get out of hoof?” asked Nail, waggling his eyebrows, only to have the back of his head get smacked by Halberd. “What, I’m just confirming our orders with the Captain.”

“You’re being an irritating letch and I got enough of that from my former superior in Special Operations.” said Halberd, voice blunt as a rock as he snorted. “Be nice to be in a unit where ponies focus on the job, for a change.”

“I’m all about the job. Can’t you see the burning focus in my eyes?” Nail said as he pointed at himself, expression utterly deadpan, albeit not looking at Halberd but at something else.

Wildspell glanced at him. “You’re starring at my ass.”

“Its a beautiful ass.”

Windstiker gave a sharp whistle that hurt the eardrums, making Trixie wince.

“Enough chatter. Wildspell, do what you need to. We’ll back you up as best we can.”

She nodded, and turned to Trixie and Coldiron. “Link with me, then let me do the rest. Break the connection the second you think you’re being influenced. Not worth it to lose all three of us if this goes poorly.”

“Be careful.” Blossomforth called from the edge of the crater, shifting about on her hooves nervously, eyes shining with worry. Wildspell glanced at the pegasus, and gave the barest of nods before lighting up her horn with pale yellow magic, which reached out towards Trixie and Coldiron’s horns. Trixie and Coldiron in turn began to channel magic, connecting threads of their mana to Wildspell’s. Creating a spell array was still a fairly new thing for Trixie, but she’d gained enough practice at it that the process felt almost natural. Syncing up one’s magic with two other unicorns was something like the mental equivalent of tightrope walking while attempting knit a sock and singing a song all at the same time. Not only did Trixie have to carefully control the flow of her own magic, but she had to carefully regulate the connection to Coldiron and Wildspell, making sure she gave enough magic to keep the array formed while not pulling back too hard to disrupt Wildspell’s control of the array.

The Legion primarily used spell arrays to allow teams of battlemage unicorns to generate powerful attack spells, but an array could be used to strengthen any kind of magic. In this case Trixie imagined Wildspell was using the extra power to not just attempt to scan the shard, but also ward her mind with more than just mental techniques. The extra magic might help resist the control of whatever force resided inside the shard. Trixie couldn’t deny her nerves felt rubbed raw as Wildspell started to channel their combined magic towards the shard.

Facing ursans was one thing. That was a direct and easy to understand threat. Being ripped apart was a horrific fate, but at least it was a quick and comprehensible one. Trixie’s mind thought back to the terrible way in which that poor filly, Autumn Leaf, had her mind taken from her and her body forcibly mutated into something strange and horrifying... and Trixie could feel acidic fear bubbling up in her.

“Focus, Trixie.” said Coldiron, face tight with concentration. Trixie nodded, forcing herself to breath slowly and push down the fear.

Then Wildspell’s magic made contact with the shard, tentatively allowing only a small stream of the yellow aura to touch at first, then slowly spread out to surround the shard. Wildspell made a small gasping sound, and Trixie felt a shuddering tremor through the stream of their shared magic, but Trixie didn’t feel any kind of pressure or influence on her mind yet.

Windstriker, hovering nearby and watching them all with unblinking focus, said, “Wildspell, are you still with us?”

“Y-yes, Captain.” Wildspell said, voice heavy with strain. “Its trying very hard to get inside me. I don’t think it’s meant to do this without physical contact. The field its projecting its... its weak, like an echoing voice. The real voice is inside. This shard, its not metal. I don’t know what it’s made from. I think it might be alive. Organic. And every single centimeter of the damn thing is filled with magic. Hard to say how much. Stronger than what you'd get out of a dozen arrays, at least.”

Sweat was running down Wildspell’s face in small streams, her features tense in a trembling mask of concentration. The river of yellow magic pulsing from her horn to flow around the shard fluctuated like a wounded animal, suddenly causing Wildspell to suck in a pained breath and then make a gagging noise. Trixie felt the tremor of foreign magic back-lashing along the array link, and for a moment she thought she heard a terrible, alien echo in her mind. It was like the desperate scratching of a hundred small claws along a pane of glass, chorusing together to form a single voice.

Let me out. Unite the shards.

Abruptly Wildspell cut the connection, the array collapsing and cutting Trixie and Coldiron off. Trixie, shocked by the sudden severing of the array, collapsed to her haunches, blinking. “W-what just happened?”

Coldiron, trembling but keeping her hooves under her, rubbed her forehead and looked to Wildspell, “Corporal, you cut the connection, why-”

Before Coldiron was done asking, Wildspell shuddered and swayed on her hooves. Her magic was still connected to the shard, and the stream of magic started to transmute from a strong yellow glow to a misty and erratic silver sheen. As the unicorn stood there her voice started to babble, words tripping over each other.

“Uniteshardsreleasethemothershardsbringtogether-”

“Rednail! Halberd! Now!” Windstriker shouted, diving in herself while the two larger stallions nodded grimly and jumped Wildspell. Halberd got on Wildspell’s left while Rednail got on her right, and both locked her up in tight limb holds that bore her to the ground, while Windstriker went right for Wildspell’s horn and without hesitation whipped out a small ring of iron from a side pouch and slapped it across Wildspell’s horn. The iron ring started to glow a bright, searing orange, but the stream of magic between the unicorn and the shard cut off in an eyeblink.

Wildspell sagged, her eyes wide and unfocused, but the babble streaming from her mouth slowing to a whispered trickle.

Snakebite rushed down, Heimlich right behind him. Heimlich lit up his horn and cast it over Wildspell. As he did so Windstriker glanced at him, face an iron mask.

“Did it get inside her?” Windstriker’s voice had a flat, guarded edge to it.

Heimlich’s eyes closed in concentration as his magic roved over Wildspell in a sparkling wave. He’s breaths were calm and even as he took near a full minute to scan the other unicorn. Trixie just watched in nervous fascination, slowly realizing that Wildspell must have sensed the shard getting through her defenses, and had cut off the array just in time to protect her and Coldiron.

With a grave sigh, Heimlich said, “Da. I feel same magic in her as vith Autumn Leaf. It is small spark, not nearly as strong as vith the filly, but is there.”

“Shit on toast.” breathed Nail, shaking his head, “You mean she’s going to go all freaky like that kid did?”

“If that’s the case it’d be a mercy to kill her now.” said Halberd with a dire look at the mare he was helping hold down, not that she was resisting at the moment.

“That might be for the best.” muttered Windstriker, her face hard as rock. “Heimlich, how much time do you think she has?”

“Is hard to say. The filly survived some veeks, and it is logical to think she vas more exposed than Vildspell has been. I vould think there is time. Time to study her, time to concoct a means to contain or remove the foreign magic.” Heimlich said, though his voice carried clear hints of doubt.

While Windstriker looked contemplative, Trixie forced herself back to her hooves and said, “She just saved Coldiron and myself from whatever horrible magic is in that cursed shard! Killing her now, without even trying to help her? What’s there to even think about?”

Windstriker’s eyes cut towards Trixie sharply. “Whatever I decide is not to be argued with, Private Lulamoon. That said, there are risks to weigh.”

“That’s understandable Captain.” said Coldiron, “You order, we follow. But I’ll point out that we needed Autumn Leaf to study to figure out what we’re dealing with, but with her dead we were out of leads. Wildspell may have just inadvertently given us a second chance to study what the hell this thing is and what its doing to ponies it comes into contact with. Plus, if we find a way to remove its influence, Wildspell might still have intel on the shard itself she wasn’t able to relay before it got into her mind.”

“P-plus,” stammered Blossomforth, “If we can save her, can’t we use that in case there’s more of these creepy things doing this to other ponies?”

“Not to be the bad guy here, but I think it needs to be said; if we keep her alive there’s a chance she can do a lot more damage than the little filly did.” said Snakebite, looking as though he was sucking on something sour as he did so. “I don’t like it, but it might be too risky to bring her into town. She goes full mutant psycho on us, well, Wildpsell’s packing a lot more magical heat in her horn than any other unicorn on the team. Half of Victor’s Cliff might burn if she runs amok. If that happens it’ll be on our heads for having not given her a quick, clean death right here and now.”

“How can you say that!?” Blossomforth shouted, but before she got any further, Coco put a hoof on her shoulder and shook her head, causing Blossomforth to deflate as she met the other mare’s steady gaze. “But Coco... we can’t just kill her.”

“Its the Captain’s decision.” said Coco with a ashen voice, not looking happy about it but with a grim acceptance marring her face.

Snakebite sighed and shrugged, “Didn’t say I was in favor of offing one of our own, but wanted to make sure you Heartlander folk understood the risks. Wildspell knew those risks, and has done her duty. If she dies here, its as a Legionnaire, plain and simple.” He coughed, “That said, I’m all for taking the risk to keep her around and figure out what the actual fuck that shard did to her and maybe stop the damn thing.”

Windstriker was silent for a long while, eyes unwavering as she stared at Wildspell, who remained largely placid and unresponsive to everything around her. Wildspell’s eyes just kept staring into nothing, her mouth making small unintelligible whispers. Even so, neither Halberd or Rednail risked loosening their grip on the mare.

Finally Windstriker let out a barely audible sigh and said, “Get rope and bind her thoroughly. I want her guarded carefully. Halberd, Nail, you two get first shift on that. Once we get her back to Victor’s Cliff I want you in full research mode, Heimlich. Learn everything you can but don’t take any unnecessary chances. If Wildspell shows any sign of going the way of Autumn Leaf, you put a blade through her immediately, understood?”

Heimlich bobbed his head in an enthusiastic nod, “Da, Captain, I shall be cautious.”

While Halberd and Rednail went about trussing up Wildspell in coils of rope offered by several other Underwatch legionnaires, Trixie took a moment to collect herself and eye the shard. The spike of luminous, reflective material stood in cold, ominous silence, its surface reflecting Trixie’s image with a sickening twist and burring of her edges. Yet just looking at it seemed to draw back the memory of the voice within the shard, making Trixie feel like her brain was being scratched by a thousand tiny teeth.

She shivered, “We should just destroy that thing.”

Windstriker glanced at her, wings twitching. “If I thought we could, I’d be ordering it right now.”

“We could try throwing rocks at it.” suggested one of the other legionaries, who was promptly slapped upside the head by one of his fellows who said. “There’s no rocks around here big enough for that.”

“What about logs? We could cut one of these trees down and make a battering ram to smash it with.”

This was soon followed by a chorus of other suggestions on how to possibly destroy the shard, ranging from the almost plausible to the utterly mind boggling. Trixie didn’t even know how or where they’d find a vat of oil that large out here, at least not in a timely manner.

Windstriker made a swift gesture with a wing, cutting off the chatter. “This shard is too dangerous to be left as is, but we’re not equipped to handle destroying it, nor am I in a position to make that call. What we’ve found here, folks, is something that needs to be brought to the attention of the top brass. Then more specialized spellcasters can be sent in to deal with this thing, once their fully appraised of the danger. With luck Heimlich might find a way to help Wildspell before then. Right now I want everypony formed up and ready to get our flanks back to Victor’s Cliff.”

“Should we leave a squad to guard this thing?” asked Snakebite.

Windstriker’s expression darkened, “No way I’m splitting our forces more than they already are. Besides, I woulnd’t leave anypony alone near that shard. We know enough to know its dangerous, and that its connected to the Lurkers. That’s enough for now. Alright ponies, form up and move it, double time!”

Leyshi didn’t understand. The pain had to be horrific, beyond words, but the unicorn pony was enduring. How, Leyshi did not know. It hurt to watch. Perhaps Broodmother Chirziane was right, perhaps Leyshi was too fond of the ponies. Watching the way this mare writhed within the binds of the webbing pinning her body to the tree, hearing the desperate whimpers and cries that kept pouring from her mouth, it stung at something in Leyshi that made her want to crawl into a dark recess in shame.

The hunter that had been administering the pain inducing toxin stood poised to inject more, but Leyshi held up a fore claw and exuded commanding pheromones. “Stop. That is enough. More, too much more, may kill her.”

Legs bristling the hunter obeyed and backed off, though he said, “If this one will not cooperate then it should die, honored brood-caste. We have another from which to get the information we desire.”

Leyshi cast a look at their other captive. The huge, dark pony had been utterly silent during the time they had been torturing the unicorn. Silent, but her eyes stared with distinct fierce intensity at them and it made Leyshi feel a uneasy chill. This dark pony had been distinctly strong for her race, slaying many before being captured. The look it gave Leyshi now made her fearful and want to be anywhere else. Yet she had her duty to her Broodmother. Leyshi could not afford to falter.

“Yes,” she said, “We do have another...” Leyshi’s mind turned with a web of thoughts, following spindly threads of logic. She arguably knew more about ponies than any other Aranea alive, due to her work alongside Broodmother Chirziane, and unlike the Broodmother she had gone out of her way to talk to the pony captives in the laboratory. She’d been learning of their culture piece by piece.

Her eight orb-like eyes turned towards the unicorn. Aranea often existed within strict boundaries of their caste-system, with only a few rogues acting as exceptions to that rule. By and large Aranea were defined not by their bonds with each other, but by their bond to their caste. Ponies, from what she’d learned, were not the same. They valued individual bonds.

It was a curious thing to Leyshi. Others may have called it aberrant, but she just thought of it as interesting.

And a possible weakness to exploit.

“We will not kill her. No, I think I know how to get her to talk now. The large one. Use your toxins upon her now, but ensure the other can see, and hear.” Leyshi said, gesturing at the dark pony while scuttling up to the unicorn.

As the hunter moved to obey his orders there was excited chittering from among the other hunter-caste and spinner-caste who remained largely hidden and watching from the surrounding forest. The torture had been boring for them, Leyshi knew, but they seemed excited to see what Leyshi was planning. It was actually pretty simple, and she crawled up to get face to face with the unicorn pony, switching over to speak in the pony language.

“Pony, listen pony, I don’t want to keep hurting you. I just want information. Please talk to me?”

The unicorn’s face was streked with grimy sweat and tears, her eyes bloodshot and near delirious. Her flesh had a strained, reddened look from the poison coursing through her. Leyshi knew that a hunter’s toxin was a great feat of many generations of breeding over the Aranea’s eons of history. A hunter could change how his toxin functioned, altering the lethal level of it, or increasing the pain it inflicted. The poison inside the unicorn was largely non-lethal, as long as there wasn’t too much of it, but the pain... oh the pain it must have been putting her through. It was a miracle she was still conscious.

To help the pony’s mind regain focus as much as to indulge her feelings of sympathy, Leyshi raised her abdomen and spun out web, a pair of her hind legs moving with swift and smooth motions to shape the web into a magical set of runes. She still had plenty of magic stored inside her to fill the runes with power and direct the spell towards the unicorn. The runes glowed with green, wispy light, which then washed over the pony. Quickly the pony’s eyes blinked and she gasped, some of the redness fading from her face.

“Wh-what...?”

“I have cast a spell to reduce the poison in your blood.” Leyshi said, “I want you to talk to me pony, please? Your name, then more.”

“I...won’t.” The mare’s voice was scratchy and hoarse from all the agonized screaming she’d been doing. It was weak and unsteady as she shook her head. “J-just...stop. Kill me, but...can’t talk.”

There was fear brimming in every word as the mare quivered. She was absolutely terrified. It just made the sting inside Leyshi all the sharper. She traced a comforting claw over the pony’s cheek, though the pony jerked from the touch as if it’d been scalding. Leyshi pulled her claw back, hesitant, but still steadfast in her duty to her Broodmother.

“I won’t kill you or your castemate. That would be a waste. Unless you speak to me, and answer my questions, I can keep telling my hunter-caste to hurt you. Or your... friend? That is the right term, yes, friend?”

The eyes of the unicorn widened in a look Leyshi recognized as horror, and as much as it filled her with a nagging sense of guilty she pressed onward. “Yes, you now know the pain of hunter venom. Such a terrible thing. Even I can not really imagine how it feels. Do you want your friend to feel that?”

“Please, no, just let us go if you’re not going to kill us! Or if you are going to, then stop... stop playing around and do it. My life isn’t worth much anyway...” the unicorn mare pleaded. Leyshi gestured to her hunter, and the larger Aranea moved his fangs closer to the dark pony’s exposed neck. The larger pony mare just continued to stare, still as a statue as the fangs got closer to her skin.

“Stop it, she won’t say anything either! She’s so much stronger than me, you’re just wasting your time.” The cries of the unicorn mare went unheeded as Leyshi watched the hunter-caste carefully administer his poison.

Even as hard and stoic as the black furred mare was, the hunter’s toxin was clearly something even she wasn’t fully prepared for. Though she didn’t scream the way the unicorn did, the dark mare’s eyes went wide and bloodshot within seconds and seemingly against her rock hard will the mare started to thrash against the bonds of the webbing encasing her.

The unicorn mare kept pleading for them to stop, but Leyshi knew she had to give this a little time. Several minutes passed with the only sound being the unicorn’s babbling pleas and the dark mare’s nearly silent struggles. The hunter, at Leyshi’s direction, gradually increased the dosage of toxin with small bites over the thrashing mare’s neck and shoulders. Bit by bit the poison would build, its intense burn of agony rising with each bite. While the black mare lasted much longer than the unicorn had, even she started to make more noise. Her mouth was still webbed up, so the screams were muffled, and even then Leyshi got the impression that even without the web those screams would only be tearing their way out past determinedly clenched teeth... but still the mare screamed.

There was no shame in that. Leyshi couldn’t imagine any living being capable of enduring pain like that without giving in to the instinct to respond accordingly. Even having never experienced it herself, she understood the chemistry behind the toxin, the way it attacked the nerves to fill them with a pain that would feel like burning from the inside out.

The dark mare’s wild thrashing started to show signs of not only ripping parts of the web holding her, but even cracking the tree she was webbed do. With a sharp, trilling whistle and a blast of commanding pheromones, Leyshi ordered her spinner-caste forward. In mere moments half a dozen spinner-caste were all coating the mare anew with a fresh layer of web, then they added anchoring webs to support the tree itself to keep it from breaking in half. The tree was easily as thick around as Leyshi herself was.

One of her other hunter-caste let out a fearful pheromone. “Monstrous creature. We should just kill it while it is still helpless.”

There was a certain logic to that. As much as she admire ponies and wished to not be enemies with them, that did not change what matters were, and this warrior had proven entirely too deadly. Perhaps killing her was the most sensible course of action. However Leyshi just had to take one look at the unicorn mare to tell her plan was working. The unicorn was in tears, her eyes looking in despair at her tortured comrade.

“It can stop at any time.” Leyshi said in the pony language. “Answer my questions and her pain ends.”

The other mare was too delirious from the pain at that moment to even notice what was happening. She kept struggling against her bonds, voice too tired to even keep screaming. The unicorn looked upon the dark mare with utter anguish, indecision wracking her sullen features. Leyshi pressed in harder with her words coming out swift and sharp as if they were her own fangs.

“Answer what I wish and you both will be free. The pain doesn’t have to continue. Haven’t you both endured enough?”

“Y-you won’t let us go...” the unicorn said with a sagging look.

“I shall. I have no interest in dead ponies. Even if your friend is dangerous, I don’t care, because we shall be gone before she can retaliate. Tell me what I want, and you will both be set free.”

Leyshi watched as the unicorn stared at her with a look that was like the cracked edges of a worn out and broken piece of slate. Then her eyes went to her friend, and there was desperate resignation in the unicorn’s look. With a gulp, she said, “W-what do you want to know?”

Finally. Leyshi let out pleased pheromones, even if she knew the pony couldn’t scent them properly. “First, please, your names. I want to know what you call yourselves, you and your friend both.”

“Allie Way...” the unicorn said, then nodded towards the dark mare. “She’s Blackwall.”

Leyshi bobbed up and down on her legs in a small, pleased dance. Then she gave the command for the hunter to stop poisoning the mare, Blackwall. The hunter obeyed, albeit with a hiss of reluctance, and skittered back to join his peers amid the bushes. Leyshi, feeling much better now that the unpleasantness was done with, turned her full attention to Allie Way.

“Good, good! Names are always important. Now, Allie Way, I’m very curious. Why are warrior ponies like you and Blackwall here with so many others like you?”

Blackwall had never truly lost conciseness during the torture, only her sense of time and the world around her. It had all been replaced by overwhelming, searing pain that melted its way through her veins like flows of magma. Blackwall was no stranger to pain. Indeed during her thirty years of life, more than half of that spent in Legion uniform, she’d endured every kind of pain that could be felt under the sun of the Prince’s holy sister.

She’d torn muscles, broken bones, bled from countless punctures inflicted by wolven claws, been frostbitten by extreme cold, burned by flames both from training accidents and friendly fire from battlemages, and even once had a wolven bolter spur punch right through one of her legs. It still had a barely perceptible limp to this day, though Blackwall made sure it hadn’t slowed her down at all. Without her armor on her body was clearly marred by the many scars of her enduring life of warfare in the name of Prince Terrato and the Legion.

Yet despite all that, she’d never felt anything like the Lurker’s venom. No pain in her previous experience matched it. She had held onto her pride for as long as she could, but Blackwall couldn’t even guess when her willpower had given way to sheer, thick headed stubbornness, and then when even that had bent to simple overriding instinct. Hot shame burned through her, but it was rapidly replaced with confusion.

Why wasn’t she still being tortured? Her senses were blurry, with clouded vision and muffled hearing. The daze was quickly wearing off, however, and she felt something tugging at the web holding her. With a few bleary eyeblinks she saw a indistinct shape of white and neon blue in front of her. She heard heavy breathing and wracking sobs.

Allie Way.

She must have tried to speak the name, for the blurry blob in front of her let out a squeak and jumped back.

“Blackwall! H-hold on, I’m getting you down from there. I just need to get a good grip with my magic.”

Blackwall felt the tugging again, now followed by the tell tale chime of magic. Slowly the fog filling the ravines of Blackwall’s mind started to clear and she could think. Allie Way was free. How? There was no possible way she could have fought off their captors. As her vision also cleared up Blackwall could see she and Allie Way were still in the same small clearing where the Lurkers had been torturing them both for information. Blackwall’s memory was fuzzy, but she recalled that the Lurker who’d seemed to be in charge had turned its minion upon her in order to...

Blackwall’s eyes widened for a moment, then narrowed to a knife's edge.

Allie Way, who was making good progress in tearing the webs from Blackwall’s body, caught the look and met Blackwall’s eyes. For a moment. Then Allie Way, with an expression of utterly desolate shame, looked away, her ears flat to her skull and her head hung low. Tears struck the forest floor as Allie Way whispered, “I didn’t have a... I mean, I couldn’t... they were hurting you.”

Blackwall closed her eyes, taking in a long, slow breath through her nose and letting it out like a hiss of steam. She then rolled her shoulders and used the loosening of the webs that Allie Way had already accomplished to tear her right foreleg free in a burst of web. She didn’t even care about the way the sticky stuff tore at her fur as she ripped herself free, limb by limb, then tore the web off her mouth and spat out the rest. All the while Allie Way stood back, head hung like a whipped dog, looking utterly miserable.

Rage threatened to push up out of Blackwall like the eruption of a too long dormant volcano. She didn’t even have to ask what Allie Way had done. It was written all over the unicorn’s face. The only surprise was that either of them still lived after the Lurkers had gotten what they wanted. Why hadn’t the Lurkers just killed them, if Allie Way had talked? It didn’t make sense.

Still trying to control her anger, Blackwall still had to confirm things with her own ears. “How much did you tell them?”

Her voice fell like hammers on an anvil, and Allie Way flinched with each blow. The younger mare’s voice was barely an anguished murmur. “Everything. I tried to... to think of a lie, but she kept asking questions, kept threatening to keep hurting you, I just... couldn’t keep it up. They know about the Underwatch, why we’re here, and that the others went to the north forest looking for something.”

Allie Way’s voice was gray with an utterly defeated quality Blackwall had heard among some raw recruits who couldn’t handle their first battle. In a strange way it almost made sense to her. When the torture had begun, and Allie Way had endured the Lurker’s venom, Blackwall had felt a sort of pride for the mare. Allie Way had not talked, as long as the pain had been hers alone to bear.

The idea that Blackwall had become the weakness that had gotten Allie Way to talk was horrifying as it was enraging. Her body seethed with violent need to unleash that rage upon something, and in a dark corner of her mind she imagined cracking Allie Way’s skull open.

After all, had Allie Way been a proper Legion mare there’d be no question of her punishment for giving intel to the enemy. Even under torture, a Legion pony was meant to die before betraying the Legion. To do otherwise was to be worthy of the highest punishment. Under normal circumstances Allie Way would be facing a very brief trial followed by a even briefer encounter with a noose.

But these weren’t normal circumstances, and Blackwall struggled to get her emotions and thoughts in check. Allie Way was one of the Chosen. A Heartlander. Prince Terrato may have decreed their draft, but at the same time the laws of the Legion did not wholly apply to the Chosen of Celestia and Luna. Allie Way would likely still face retribution of some sort, but hanging was... a less likely possibility.

And if it was, would Blackwall want that? Her seething rage was more directed at herself than the unicorn who stood so miserable and pained nearby. None of this would have happened had Blackwall not been distracted while on patrol. And even she had to admit the venom of the Lurkers was a powerful tool of torture. Allie Way had clearly been delirious and out of her mind from the pain. Few Legion ponies could have withstood it for as long as she had.

Yet it still tore at Blackwall. This felt like a slap to the face. Further proof positive that the Heartlanders should never have been placed in the Legion in the first place. They didn’t belong in war. Had Blackwall been alone, or with another true Legion pony, they would have both died before giving the Lurkers any information.

But the soft, compassionate heart of a Chosen couldn’t stand to see her... friend in pain.

Madness. Simple madness. Such feelings belonged in the Heartland. Not because they were wrong, but because they weren’t suited for war. Ponies like Allie Way and her fellow Chosen were sacred, in their way. Born to be protected. Protected by hard ponies like Blackwall who’s life had meaning because she had a duty to protect the Heartland.

Looking at Allie Way now, Blackwall felt the crushing weight of what she’d lost. Her sacred duty was tainted by the simple fact that she couldn’t protect ponies like Allie Way from the horrors of war if those very same ponies were stuck there fighting beside her.

What good was Blackwall if she couldn’t serve to protect one Chosen?

All this rushed through her mind in the span of a half minute as she stood there, breathing heavily. Allie Way remained silent, her body covered in sweat and grime, so pale she looked like a standing corpse. Blackwall turned to face her, face forced into a mountainous mask.

“There’s no time. If the Lurkers know everything, then they will go after the rest of the Underwatch. We must go swiftly to Victor’s Cliff and rouse the militia and the rest of our squad.’

Allie Way was silent, so Blackwall approached her and gave the mare a stiff push in the chest. “Private Allie Way! At attention!”

Allie Way gave a started shake of her head, her tear streaked eyes blinking. “I, uh, y-yes ma’am!” The unicorn drew herself up into something resembling an attentive stance. Her face was fearful, but she was clearly regaining some control. Blackwall nodded approval.

“Your mistake will be dealt with later. Right now we must return to Victor’s Cliff. Understood, legionnaire?”

Despite the exhaustion wracking her and the fear still filling her, Allie Way gave a salute, her voice not exactly strong, but not a pit of hopelessness either. “Yes ma’am!”

“Good. Then get marching, at the gallop!”

Blackwall was exhausted herself from the whole ordeal, but she picked a direction that she suspected would lead out of the forest, and broke out into a controlled gallop. Her legs screamed protest, her body feeling weak and nauseous, but Blackwall endured.

With a glance to her side, she saw Allie Way galloping next to her, no less enduring.