The Demon of Canterlot

by Jazz Tempest

Rating: teen
Tags: Alternate Universe, Mystery
Length: 1456

It stalks the streets, silent as shadow. Beware the demon of Canter Mountain.

For nearly two millenia, ponies have lived in and shaped the Canter Valley region into the perfect breeding grounds for a cradle of civilization. Now, even the weather and topography is largely under their control. But there are a few holdovers from the early days of ponykind. Discord is one such creature, a being of primordial chaos that was around long before even Celestia and Luna. Some dragons that were driven out by the tail end of the Windigo Event that became known as Hearthswarming are another. Yet there is one that many have long since forgotten about. It became little more than a child's bedtime story, and then even a simple campfire tale, told by old ponies from half remembered youths spent cowering under the sheets. The stories tell of a creature of such might and terror that even the Lord of Chaos himself had no power over it. A being whose power dwarfed even the combined might of the Royal Sisters, and who stalked the now terraformed mountain known as Mount Canter. There are whispers of it even now, whispers that say that instead of waning with the stories of its existence, its power has waxed ever stronger, and that it still stalks its old hunting grounds. At night, if you are extremely unlucky, you may have the privilege of playing host to a ghost of the old world. If you do, just remember the tales, remember yourself, and never turn your back. Because every story, told by bedside and campfire since time immemorial, begins the same way.

With the words "Beware the demon of Canter Mountain."

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2017-03-15 18:57:32 UTC

It Stalks the paths and traveled roads...

Hooves pounded the dirt and grit. The darkened form of a unicorn stallion sped down the ever steeper slope, his eyes wide and wild. A manic grin stretched to his sweat plastered mane, and he howled triumphantly as he jumped over the edge of a steep drop, clattering to the gravel a moment later. With a quick glance around to ensure that no one was close enough to see him, the stallion pressed himself against the cliff face and sparked his horn. Answering the call, darkness swarmed forward and covered the unicorn, turning him into nothing more than another fleeting shadow against the rock. Hardly a minute later, a trio of armored guardstallions charged down the mountain, faces determined, spears forward and hooves pounding. So focused they were on the path that none noticed the wavering form of a shadowy stallion chuckling into the crook of his leg just beside them.

After taking some steadying breaths and waiting for the sounds of the guards to fade into silence, the unicorn allowed the illusion to fade away, and began to trot confidently back up the mountain. A small wind had picked up, and it felt soothing against the stallion's back as he wiped the last of the sweat from his brow. Another day, another couple hundred bits stolen from ignorant tourists in the city above, another couple of idiot guards skillfully avoided. All in all, not a bad haul for petty thief Artful Dodger.

"Okay Arty," he said to himself, shivering as the wind picked up again. "Time for a well earned reward. Joe better have some triple glazed left because I am... starving..." Artful's words trailed off as he really took in his surroundings. Something was wrong, though he wasn't sure that word quite described the feeling of dread creeping into his gut. The shadows looked longer, and an odd mist was sweeping in from every direction. With a violent shiver, Dodger realized that his breath was clouding in front of him. The temperature, already quite low for pony standards here in the heights of Canter Mountain, had quickly dropped to subzero. Seizure like fits of shivering took the stallion, and he cursed. What in the world was going on?

Then he froze. Out in the field of icy mist, something had moved.  A body of inky blackness came from far beyond where the mountain path ended, out beyond the sheer drops to the plains far below. The creature was smaller than a pony, with a doglike body. It looked like a baby coyote. Then the creature opened its eyes, and Artful felt his heart stop. That THING was not an animal. Its eyes glowed a baleful, sickly green with a rim of gold around the pupil and the iris. The eyes glared at the stallion, glimmering with intelligence and something darker, not rage but akin to it. The unicorn's heart restarted and quickly tripled in speed as he recognized the look in its eyes was reflecting the look in his own. Hunger.

For a minute of utter silence, a terrified unicorn and a creature from the depths of Tartarus stared each other down, the mist growing ever thicker around them. Then, Artful felt himself unfreeze at the distant sound of clinking metal. The guards! The unicorn would have smiled if he could still feel his face. All he needed to do was make it back to the guards, and they could fend this thing off long enough for him to run! Artful turned, hope blossoming in his chest-

-to come face to face with the nightmare creature. Its glowing eyes sparkled, something like amusement in their depths. The stallion's body became at once rigid with fear and jelly-like as adrenaline coursed through his system. He took a few faltering steps passed the creature and opened his mouth to scream.

City guards Split Bark, Red Delicious, and Southern Charm huffed and puffed as they climbed back up the steep path into Canterlot proper, their heads hung low. Not only had they been duped, but then robbed and roughed up in the ensuing chase. Artful Dodger was a household name in lower Canterlot, and tonight was a prime example of his wit and skills as a thief. While none of the guards were anything special in terms of power or intelligence, they were still combat trained individuals that were entrusted with guarding the lives and possessions of the ponies of Canterlot. Artful had walked all over them, then turned around and wiped his horseshoes on their faces while they were too stunned to do anything. None of them were feeling all too happy with tonight.

Just as Charm had been about to begin grumbling however, a glint appeared further up the path. The three of them picked up their paces in curiosity, which turned to joy as they realized the shine was coming from moonlight reflecting off a massive pouch filled to the brim with bits!

"It's all of Artful's haul!" Split Bark said. "But where is the thief?" Red Delicious just shrugged, picking up the coin purse and beginning to count.

"Maybe in his haste to get away he dropped them, but didn't have the time to turn around for it?" Southern Charm provided. "It would be unusual for somepony like Dodger, but then there's a first time for everything."

"Could be," Red said. "Either way, we got what we came for. Its cold, windy and my cider is getting warm at the outpost. I say we get back inside before Artful comes back for his spoils." The other guards nodded their agreement, and the trio began the trek back to the top of the mountain.

In the distance, a coyote howled.

It has no Care for Banter

"Wherefore art thou, mine inspiration?!" Buttercup cried. The soft yellow earth pony stretched a hoof to cover the setting sun, gazing with glazed eyes down from her perch atop the parapet of her cliff side home. She wrung her hooves frantically, beginning to pace as she withheld her tears. " My glass runneth dry, I cannot write nor speak but plainly... why have you forsaken me, flirtatious minx?" With a resounding sigh, she slumped to the ground.

"Mayhaps I am not meant for this life, but the next. Oh, but to abandon a life of such sweet agony would be to enact a curse most foul upon my soul! I must strive to write, to begin anew the cycle of beauteous word play! Alas, I have not the luxury of time, oh WOE IS MEEHEEHEEEEE!" Buttercup collapsed on the marble floor, weeping openly. She stayed that way for a good twenty minutes, rolling around, sobbing and cursing, before finally sitting up. As she wiped her eyes, the mare shivered, suddenly colder than she was a moment before.

"Is this it?" she whispered, drying the last of her tears. "Has Death heard my plea and given me my respite? Come then, foul Spirit, before I change my mind! Whisk me away from this place that strangles me so with its literary shackles!" She spun around now, facing the rising moon. Her searching eyes found nothing at first, but then she saw a shadow leap from the darkened walls of her manor. She let out a quiet gasp as a coyote, clad in shadow, landed before her. Its golden ringed green eyes beheld her with a quiet, interested calm. Suppressing a shiver, Buttercup spoke.

"Art thou Him, Spirit?" she asked quietly. "Have you heard my pleas?" The coyote cocked its head, then slowly nodded.  The air grew warmer, and the mare felt herself relax a bit more. "I would not think myself a selfish mare, Spirit, truly I wouldn't. But I cannot survive in this world. This place, this horrid city on the mountain, it is cold in a way no temperature could ever mirror. The masses salivate at the thought of clawing their way through the crowd, to bite and rip at the soul of artists such as myself. I am weak, Spirit. I cannot take this place anymore, not now that my minx, my flirtatious muse has left me. Take me, Spirit. Take me away from this horrid world." To Buttercup's credit, she only flinched slightly when the coyote rushed forward silently, its eyes piercing through her very soul. It said nothing as it circled her, as if searching for something. Then, with an entirely un-coyote-like grin, it bared its many razor sharp teeth and spoke, its voice as cloudy and oozing shadow as its form.

"Verily." There was the sound of wind, a feeling of utter cold, and the howl of a coyote, and Buttercup Dream knew no more.