The Soulstorm Chronicles

Day Twelve - Afternoon

My meeting with Captain Rosemary was barely underway when we were suddenly interrupted by a strange noise outside the tent. We looked out to see multiple of our ponies pointing down the canyon and speaking in whispers. The sound we had heard was the wing beat of the Beast of Gremarnaca, big lazy strokes that lifted its great bulk ever higher and almost drowned out the desperate cries of the tiny figure that dangled from the beast's talons. Yet another victim that was beyond my help.

I ordered everypony to return to the safety of the overhang, and they obeyed most readily. As we watched from the shadows, the creature glided past without seeing us, and I was later informed by the scout that it had returned to the nest and made short work of its meal. It was obvious to me that our only hope of destroying the creature was to bring it within range of our weapons, and the Captain agreed. We would position a catapult such that it would hurl boulders into the far wall of the canyon and, on hearing these great crashes, the creature would surely venture out to investigate their source. Only then would we unleash the lance from the giant crossbow, which would remain hidden in the darkest recesses of the overhang. The plan was immediately put into action, but we repeatedly failed to provoke the beast. Some of the boulders thudded uselessly into soft earth, and the loud cracks generated by those that struck the rock face were too similar to the sounds produced by a nearby glacier to attract any attention.

Reluctantly, I came to the conclusion that pony bait would be required to lure the creature from its lair, and since my skills afford me some protection from attack it seemed only right that I should be the one to offer myself up. After checking that everything was ready, I again ascended the ridge I had climbed earlier.

The dragon was still in the nest, and both its heads were pointed in my general direction, but at first it failed to notice me. Only when I performed a simple spell, which created a shimmering arc of green light in the air above me, did the great heads slowly rise from the edge of the nest. A few moments later the creature was airborne, bearing down on me at a speed that caught me off my guard. I was still a short distance away from the point where the path drops below the ridge when the dragon made its first pass, swooping low and creating a downdraft of such force that it sent me tumbling across the rocks. By the time the dragon had made a circuit of the canyon, however, I was limping towards the relative safety of the overhang, confident by now that it would move in for the kill. Instead, it made several high-speed dives at the area where we were hiding, each time peeling off at the last moment with a terrifying cry. Evidently, the creature was too suspicious to effect a landing, and it began to seem increasingly unlikely that we would get the clear shot we needed.

Suddenly, from somewhere behind me, a figure darted out of the darkness. It was the young stallion Sandorius, and he was moving so fast that I had no chance of intercepting him. A second later he had cleared the protective canopy of the overhang and reached an open section of the path, where he was in full view of the creature. Mindful of my promise to the King, I immediately galloped after the young stallion and threw him to the ground, covering his body with my own. Raising my head a second later, I was horrified to see a pair of giant talons gripping an outcrop of rock just a short distance ahead of us. The creature was so close that we could smell its rank odor and even feel its hot breath on the backs of our necks. Sandorius strained to see but I forced his head down with my hoof, and with my free foreleg I gave the signal to fire. The great lance passed so low over our heads that we felt the rush of its slipstream, but before we could react it had struck home, driving deep into the dragon's underbelly with a resounding thump. Tempered many times over in the King's own foundries, the metal tip had been designed to penetrate the scales and lodge firmly in the soft tissue underneath, before releasing a potent toxin into the creature's bloodstream.

The sheer force of the impact caused the beast to reel backwards, slipping off the path and dropping into clear air with a scream which echoed throughout the gorge. A cheer went up and everypony rushed forward to the edge of the precipice, whereupon we were rewarded with the sight of the dragon going through its death throes on the canyon floor far below. As I retire tonight I draw some comfort from the day's events, for although there are many such encounters ahead of us, we have at least proved ourselves equal to the challenge.

Day Thirteen

Late last night, Celestia came to my tent and roused me from my slumber with a warning that I did not at first comprehend. Her expression was deeply troubled and her eyes darted from side to side as she spoke, her words delivered in a nervous whisper...

'I felt a voice! I felt a voice!'

When I tried to correct her, suggesting that she might have heard a voice, she insisted that I was wrong and went to tell me that the voice she'd felt was that of Captain Silva, one of the highest ranking ponies in our battalion. As she calmed down I began to understand a little more, and when she revealed that the voice had been recounting our every moment over the last three days, I suddenly grasped the true significance of her words. I reached over and lifted the journal out of its sling, before swiftly turning to the back page and finding the Amulet gone.

Certain by now that we had a traitor in our midst, I rushed out of the tent and woke two of the most dependable guards. Together, we stormed Silva's tent and found him sitting on his haunches with the Amulet hovering in front of him, its concentric rings revolving about themselves while the central stone glowed brightly. He appeared not to even notice our dramatic entrance, continuing instead with his detailed account of the dragon's violent death earlier in the day.

The old stallion's report was delivered in a dull, impassive monotone, but as he spoke not once did his lips move, and he undoubtedly would have continued thus had he not been roughly assailed by one of the guards. As the trance broke he suddenly started, as if waking from a deep sleep, and at the same moment the Amulet snapped shut with a brilliant flash, before dropping to the ground. The guards dragged him outside, and when I concentrated my magic around it to pick it up, I noticed a piece of parchment lying nearby, which upon closer examination confirmed my gravest suspicions.

Written in a spidery font that I instantly recognized as that of Pollux, the page consisted of notes and diagrams, which, if carefully followed, would enable even a laypony to avail himself of the Amulet's most basic function, this being the conveyance of telepathic communications. Whether Septimus had promised the Captain great wealth for acting as his spy or whether dark magic had been employed to secure his loyalty I could not determine, but this morning Silva was subjected to a rigorous interrogation which revealed much about his master's plans.

As the Captain gradually gave up his secrets, I began to realize just how seriously I had underestimated Pollux, not just in terms of his desire for vengeance but also for his overwhelming determination to return to the seat of power. Naively perhaps, I had originally thought that the 'turning' of the dragons was merely an act of defiance - a means of spiting the ailing King and preventing him from going peacefully to his grave. It now seemed that his true motives were far darker than any of us could have imagined. Under considerable duress from the guards, Silva explained that the aggressive behavior of the dragons under Pollux's influence was simply a diversion, designed to draw me away from the Palace on a long and difficult mission at the time when the King himself was growing weak. Clearly his intentions were to return to the Palace in my absence and seize the power he considered rightfully his. I will probably never know what led Pollux into the ways of darkness all those years ago, but I find it hard to attribute his corruption to a simple matter of jealousy.

I strongly suspect that he somehow made contact with the Dark Dragon of Demonarchy and was unable to resist the lure of its power. The spirit of Demonarchy is pure evil and had it been raised by Pollux, whether accidentally or deliberately, it would have inexorably poisoned his soul. Such conjecture is pointless now, however, for although Pollux may well have grown very powerful during his years of life in exile, we cannot countenance the idea of returning to confront him until our tasks are completed. We have many battles yet to fight.

Carefully, we began our descent of the canyon wall, retracing the steps we'd taken in recent days. Flanked by two guards, and with his legs loosely bound together, as to not allow anything faster than walking, Silva trailed behind us with his head bowed low in shame. As I slowly trotted along the path, my thoughts returned to the previous night and Celestia's visit to my tent. So intent had I been on understanding her urgent message that the significance of her precise words slipped my mind. If she had indeed felt the Captain's voice rather than heard it, then there could be no doubt that she had the gift. With appropriate guidance and tuition she had the potential to become a great Unicorn.

Suddenly my reverie was shaken by a shout from the back of the group. Turning swiftly, I was just in time to see Captain Silva quickly sprint across the path, despite the binding method, and leap to certain death. Perhaps understandably, the guards made only a token attempt to stop him.

We reached the canyon floor soon after sunrise this morning and I immediately dispatched a small team to gather specimens from the dragon's carcass. They rejoined us several hours later, bringing with them a number of interesting samples which I deemed worthy of inclusion in the book. On the way back they had also passed the mutilated corpse of Captain Silva, his flesh gashed and split in many areas. Despite his injuries, they noted a strange symbol which had appeared on the Captain's flank where the cutie mark was supposed to be, and made a quick sketch of it to show me upon their return.

I had never seen its like before but the motif strongly suggested to me that the Captain had indeed fallen prey to the powers of dark magic, and that this was Pollux's way of marking his pony.

Day Sixteen

It has taken just two days to journey all the way back to the port of Trotmana, and we found ourselves feted upon our return. The townsfolk had re-stocked the vessels during our absence, adding many gifts of their own in an effort to make the next stage of our voyage as comfortable as possible.

We set sail early the next day, immediately heading towards a complex archipelago that would lead us to the Southern Kingdom.