September, 4 A.D. (After Discord, archaic calendar. Equivalent S.Y. date: -98)
The unnatural storm poured its wrath on a bedraggled and miserable Luna as she made her desultory way through the camp. A group of soldiers called a greeting, and she replied, immediately regretting it as the metallic tang of the cursed rain hit her tongue. Even the chocolate milk of the Chaos War had been better than this!
With the storm grounding pegasi and making the mountainous terrain treacherous, she’d had to order a break in their assault of the fortress that loomed overhead, a respite that the soldiers were glad of. War was never pleasant, but the batponies had little honour to begin with and their desperation had crushed that little, resulting in horrors that would leave her much work in the nights to come. Diverting her path, she approached the large tent housing the chirurgeons. Her soldiers had taken a serious beating in the past day’s fighting, and deserved the attention of their Princess.
She made her way through the makeshift clinic, careful to make as little noise as she could on the wooden boards that had been laid down, grateful for the sawdust that muffled her hooves. Moving amongst the fallen ponies, she stayed away from the bustling medics, but worked what magic she could, granting peaceful rest where pain denied it, and quashing memory-nightmares that threatened to wake their dreamers. Something moved in a shadowed corner, and she turned to look. Finding nothing, she returned to her work.
“Princess?”
One of the chirurgeons, a tired-looking unicorn she knew as Merciful Soul, was bowing before her.
“Rise, your skills are far more needed than ours tonight. How fare our wounded?”
Mercy smiled, and gestured to a large area empty of wounded.
“Better than we could have hoped, Princess. Maybe it’s something in the air, but we haven’t lost any patients tonight, and most of the wounded have recovered well, many of them fighting fit already. I was about to dismiss most of my staff for the night.”
“Yes, maybe…”
She trailed of as something caught her attention behind Mercy’s ear, a slate-grey pegasus bending over a patient. Something about his wings…
“Princess?”
Mercy was peering over his shoulder, and if he didn’t see anything wrong, likely there wasn’t. If nothing else, he knew his staff. A sudden shout pulled him away as a pegasus in courier’s armour was carried in, and even as far away as she was, Luna could see his broken radius piercing through the skin. The chirurgeons began their work, hampered by the patient’s agonised thrashing. Luna used a touch of her power to send him into a dreamless sleep, earning her a nod of thanks from Mercy. After the brief excitement the chirurgeons dispersed, several to a well-earned rest, and Luna approached. Her horn glowed as she shifted the quick spell-slumber to a true rest. As she worked, a pony swept up the bloody sawdust from around her feet. She finished her casting and looked down at the sweeping pony.
No, not sweeping…chewing.
What?
Her eyes met his. A brief psychic brush against her mind kicked an instinctual reaction into play, sweeping away the cobwebs in a burst of clarity, the subtle enchantment failing entirely in face of the alicorn’s consciousness.
The nocturnus’ eyes widened, and he spat out a gobbet of sawdust and gore, backwinging to get away from her as her horn lit. A blade of shadow swept after him, but he vanished into the night, leaving only a few strands of off-white tail hair drifting to the ground.
“Sound the alarm! We want him found and caught!”
Evening had become midnight before the search was given up and Luna returned to her tent, the sparkles in her mane tinted crimson by the storm. Briefly acknowledging the guards outside, she stomped into the dark interior. A brief effort of will activated the moonstones, filling the tent with a silvery glow, illuminating the desk, and the pony sat in front of it. Luna opened her mouth to call an alarm, but the pony spoke first.
“You don’t want to do that.”
He raised a hoof, around which was tied a square of white cloth.
“You want to hear what I have to say, Your Highness. And if you don’t, your army will suffer.”
Luna’s eyes narrowed, but she closed her mouth, and the nocturnus continued.
“I’ve had unrestricted access to your infirmary for the past week, and…”
February, 1 A.D.
“The blood isn’t important!”
The excited remark earned the scholar a dubious look from Whisper, who was reading nearby.
“Inky, while I don’t want to dispute your education, blood is rather important to those of us with the Curse.”
“Well, it is important, but not in itself. It opens a link that lets you draw vital force to sustain yourself, and power your other abilities. In theory, you’d only need a drop to drain someone dry.”
“Fascinating…”
Inky jumped, but Whisper concealed his surprise at their lord’s entry, Duke Crimson filling the study with his presence. He strode over to the scholar’s overflowing desk, towering over the quailing pony as he scrutinised the arcane notes, and Whisper noted the subtle shifts that betrayed his incomprehension. After a few seconds, he spoke.
“This is valuable information, Magister Black. I shall see that you are rewarded appropriately.” He turned to Whisper. “Anything to report?”
“Nothing particularly relevant, Your Grace. Something developing in Griffonstone, but it’s a few years off doing anything interesting.” Whisper punctuated his words with a gesture at his own papers.
“Thank you. Will you be joining us for the hunt? A chimera, this time, one of Discord’s monsters that’s crawled out of Equestria. It should be good eating.”
Whisper nodded, grinning a sharp grin. Crimson’s smirk was equally unsettling as the Blood Duke departed the small study. Whisper’s grin faded, and he wrapped his wings around a shivering Inky, his voice soothing as he embraced the terrified pony.
“For someone who relies on a vampire’s patronage, you don’t have a strong stomach, little one.”
A weak (and slightly muffled) chuckle emanated, and after a minute, Inky gently pushed against the imprisoning wings, and Whisper released him. The scholar began shuffling through the papers, talking as he sorted.
“It works the other way, too, feeding your blood to others to cause the healing? It’s the same principle.”
“Could other things be transferred through the link?”
Inky froze, his eyes flickering as he calculated.
“Maybe…”
His voice trailed off as Whisper’s intense stare cut into his thoughts. The spymaster leaned close and hissed urgently to Inky.
“Find out how. Find out how to block it. Don’t tell His Grace!.”
September, 4 A.D.
“Thou would tell us what thy won’t tell thy liege?”
Whisper shrugged.
“Knowledge given is just as much a weapon as knowledge kept. Besides, circumstances have changed.”
Luna shook her head, and seated herself behind the desk, not taking her glare off the nocturnus in front of her, who at least had the grace to shift uncomfortably under the stare.
“I assume thou aren’t here just to threaten me.”
“I am here to offer surrender.”
The bitter laugh that he got as a response was not unexpected, but was unwelcome.
May, 4 A.D.
The farmers who had summoned them had warned the two sisters, but that didn’t prepare them for the experience. The stench of death and buzzing flies were the first sign, but when they entered the green, the metallic tang grew unbearable. The word “Traitors”, spelled in bloody bones outside the burned houses, greeted them.
And all for the crime of offering hospitality to a lost soldier.
“What monster did this?”
Celestia’s shocked exclamation shook the trees with its force. Luna didn’t bother replying, instead counting bones, carefully laying them out in complete skeletons. After a few minutes work, she spoke.
“There are no foals amongst the dead, they must have been taken. The village was mostly Earth Ponies; there will be a trail.”
Luna was right, and they swiftly found themselves in the eaves of the forest, its oppressive cover making the rangers she’d brought uneasy, a feeling that sharpened their not-insignificant woodcraft to make them near-invisible in the gloom.
A shout echoed through the wood, sending up waves of birds.
“…and after that mess. I SHOULD LEAVE YOU FOR THEM!”
The scouts quickly reoriented, and Luna readied her blade. Now was a time for speed and stealth. It was not long before they reached a clearing, with several terrified foals huddled at one side. In the centre, two nocturnus also cowered from a third, his lips curled back in a snarl as he vented his fury.
“I told you to find the Equestrian scouts! Not slaughter our own people!”
One of the other nocturnus seemed to find a little courage to interrupt, so didn’t notice the faint rustling as Luna’s rangers moved into position. She saw one particularly daring one, Bridgwater Pippin, slip from the undergrowth to the foals, signalling for them to be silent.
“Thou forget thy place, spymaster! Lord Crimson will hear of this!”
Whisper’s falchion thudded into the ground a hair’s-breath from the unfortunate speaker’s face, causing the unfortunate to yelp and jump backwards. His expression shifted from fury to a friendly grin, and when he spoke again, it was with a sickly politeness.
“Yes, he will, Bleeding Heart. I trust thee will have a good explanation for why a border dispute has drawn the attention of both the Equestrian Princesses.”
Bleeding Heart subsided, while his companion, a mare named Sanguine, began whimpering. Pippin began pulling the foals out of the clearing, joined by another ranger, and they quickly removed them from danger. Luna silently signalled, be ready, and her rangers responded, those she could see with swift hand-signals, while others used bird-calls. Whisper pulled his blade from the ground, and for a moment Luna feared they’d been detected, but he sheathed it.
“Come on, Whisper, you’ll feel better after a snack.”
Bleeding Heart turned to where the foals had been, and froze. Whisper turned a withering look onto him as he began stammering some excuse. Luna didn’t bother to wait for them to figure it out, and signalled again. Three arrows struck Bleeding, disabling his front legs. Whisper vanished in a crimson cloud, reappearing above the arrows’ path, Sanguine was unlucky, and an arrow lodged in her wing-joint, preventing her from taking to the air.
Bleeding flew straight up as Luna dived from the undergrowth, her sword passing inches beneath his hooves. More arrows aimed at Sanguine were batted aside by Whisper’s falchion. Luna swept around, poised to take his head, but he intercepted the blade. Cursed strength warred with blessed, and the bind was broken by a series of swift attacks from Luna that drove Whisper back. Overmatched, the nocturnus wasn’t able to protect Sanguine from the next volley as he had the second, and the rangers took their chance. A wave of scarlet necrosis washed out from Whisper, withering the grass of the grove and decaying the arrows into a tumbling hail of points. Painful, but not lethal. The brief distraction was enough for Luna to score a hit, cutting a gash along his flank. Desperate, Whisper dived past Luna, dancing around her legs and landing a glancing blow to her stifle. Dropping his sword, he took up his fallen colleague and vanished, spraying Luna with bloody mist.
Reappearing a couple of dozen feet up, he flapped hard, trying hard to get out of range of the archers before they reoriented themselves. Not quite fast enough, an arrow went through one hock. Luna followed, along with two pegasi. Bleeding Heart was nowhere to be seen, and Whisper was quickly being caught up. He dropped his burden and vanished again. Swift Shield’s only warning was a sudden spray across his face as Whisper materialised, bit off his ear and kicked the suddenly-weak pegasus towards Luna, before swooping round and catching Sanguine. They hit the canopy hard, crashing through the branches and disappearing from sight.
Feather Spark dove after them, trusting her princess to take care of Swift Shield, and the other rangers followed on foot, but by the time they reached the small pile of broken branches, Feather Spark was unconscious, and their quarry was gone.
September, 4 A.D.
“I’m honoured you remember me. I knew you were there, by the way.”
He gestured to the slitted-eye symbol on his flank.
“Why did thou not warn thy comrades?”
“I was tempted to leave them for you. You took care of the foals?”
She searched his oddly colourless eyes, trying to work out the point of the question, but found nothing.
“They were dispatched to Everfree as Wards of the Crown. They will be cared for.”
Whisper nodded, and laid a scroll on the table.
“The terms of our surrender.”
He waited in silence while Luna read it.
“Thy scribe is thorough.”
“I’ve known this was coming for a long time. I should have acted a long time ago.”
March, 4 A.D.
The great doors creaked open before Whisper, who didn’t break stride as he stormed through the castle, the first lights of dawn turning his bone-white mane to a fiery halo. The drama of the entrance was somewhat ruined when a bat-winged ball of fluff dropped from the ceiling onto his neck, clinging on tightly.
“Unca Whisper!”
Whisper peered down at the nocturnus filly latched onto his neck with a mixture of exasperation and amusement.
“Good morning, little one. Shouldn’t thou be in bed?”
“Nuh-uh.”
She somehow tightened her grip, nuzzling into his mane and nickering dozily.
“Shadow Dancer! There thou are!”
Whisper flinched as Shadow Dancer jumped, but caught her as she lost her grip on his neck and began to slip the floor, unfortunately not fast enough to do so well, and after a few seconds of flailing she was gently, if firmly, landed on the flagstones, glaring balefully at the approaching knight. Silver Sword, for her part, met the challenge gamely, and Whisper recoiled as knightly discipline warred with youthful obstinacy.
“Thou swore thou would go to bed without complaining.”
“I did! Didn’t say I’d stay!”
Despite his efforts, a snicker escaped Whisper’s lips, and he suddenly found himself within Silver Sword’s sights. Acting before his thoughts were frozen, he called out.
“Dancer, if thou promise to go to bed and to sleep afterwards, no trouble, I’ll come up and tell you a story once I’m done with His Grace.”
The resulting noise caused both adults to wince with its high-pitched intensity, but fortunately its source ran out of breath before any permanent damage was done, and Shadow Dancer flitted away, a wide grin plastered across her face.
“You shouldn’t encourage her.”
“It worked. Thanks for watching her for me.”
“Something came up? You’d best report to His Grace.”
Whisper smirked, a mischievous expression that crawled across his face.
“Not curious?”
He then ducked under Silver Sword’s wingblade as it came very close to giving him a nice, new, short manecut.
“Don’t try thy games with me, little Spymaster. Besides, Sis is on bodyguard duty.”
Tipping the knight a salute, Whisper departed.
Whisper entered Duke Crimson’s study, banging the door loudly as he did so, earning him a quirked eyebrow from the stallion behind the desk. The one in front of the desk was less stoic, nearly toppling his chair with surprise, while Argent Aegis remained perfectly impassive.
“Morning, Whisper.”
“Your Grace, Lord Red Death, Dame Aegis, we have a problem. A small group of Cursed raided an Equestrian town across the border a week ago, and they’ve sent word to Everfree.”
Duke Crimson and his son shared a look that set Whisper calculating, but he wasn’t able to finish before the Duke spoke.
“I trust thou have intercepted the message?”
“No, Sir. That would either require trespass or risk revealing one of my agents, and merely delay word. I thought it best to report back so that we could prepare our own emissary.”
It was Red Death that responded this time, preceding his words with a bark of laughter.
“An emissary to do what?”
He paused briefly, and Whisper’s calculations delivered their final conclusion, making his heart sink.
“We offered them aid during Discord’s madness. They refused to repay the debt, so I took it, what is there to discuss? Besides, Equestria is still recovering from that disaster, what can they do?”
Whisper looked to the Duke for support, but found none in his impassive expression. Turning to Argent Aegis, she shook her head almost imperceptibly. As he continued, her eye-roll was equally subtle.
“My lord, this could easily be seen an attack on the Equestrians, and, if nothing else, they’ve proven they defend their own. And my reports indicate that Equestria is stronger than ever. If the Two Sisters were to turn their attention to us, I do not know if we could repel them.”
“You worry too much, Spymaster. In fact, I intend to go out again. There are several villages that owe us similar debts. Tartarus, they owe us their sanity; I think they should recognise us as their liege lords.”
His eyes widening, Whisper couldn’t keep a note of panic from his voice.
“You would have us war with Equestria? My lord, that’s…”
“Enough!”
Both Whisper and Red Death turned to Duke Crimson as he continued.
“Thou forget thy place, Spymaster. I doubt the Princesses will bother with a few border towns.”
“Well, that’s settled. I’ll go and prepare a party of knights.” Red Death called out as he departed, smirking. Whisper remained, staring at his liege.
“Why are you still here?”
“The same reason I always am. The hope you might be a better stallion than your father.”
“It seems I shall have to settle for being better than my sire, tonight. Later, who knows? I have no intention of losing any war, and if you don’t want your dear ‘niece’ to suffer, neither do you.”
Whisper fought the urge to snarl, and mostly succeeded, although his lip curled a little.
“It appears we disagree on the nature of virtue, Sir.”
A dismissing gesture was all the reply he received.
Whisper raised a hoof to his lips as he approached, and Silver Sword rolled her eyes, but remained silently on guard for intruders, or, more likely, an attempted pint-sized extruder. Very carefully, he nudged the door open and slipped inside, each hoofstep a measured noise almost imperceptible.
“Unca!”
Almost. Shadow Dancer’s small, windowless room more closely resembled a nest than anything else, the pile of blankets into which she burrowed spilling out across the floor. Shuffling around, she gazed up at him with big eyes, and he lowered down, lying nose-to-nose with her.
“So, how did thou sneak out?” He whispered, exaggeratedly conspiratorially. Shadow Dancer’s eyes flicked to the door, and he reassured her. “I won’t tell.”
“Told Bleeding Heart who thou left in charge.”
Whisper grinned, impressed despite himself. Bleeding Heart’s infatuation with Silver Sword was well known to the court gossips, and her returned disgust was equally well known, particularly to those who she trusted to be nearby while she was drunk.
“Well, aren’t you a tricksy thing, though I suggest thou don’t do that again, ok?” She nodded, and he continued “What story do you want tonight, little one?”
“Windigoes!”
A chill passed down Whisper’s spine, and spectral neighing echoed at the edges of his hearing. He closed his eyes and forced the ghosts away.
“Not that one, not tonight. How about I tell thou one about your Great-grandfather again?”
“Great-grandad!”
“Well then, it was a warm day one summer, and my brother was…”
The sun was high in the sky when they met, far from it, in the caverns beneath the castle. Four of them, a jet-black scholar, an eye that never closes, and the mirrored Sword and shield. Inky Black spoke first, his voice jittery.
“We can’t survive this.”
Whisper shook his head, refusing to give up.
“Begin working on a surrender, any opportunity for peace might be very narrow, I want to be able to take it if it comes.”
Inky nodded, but both knights looked less pleased. It was Silver Sword that voiced their concerns.
“We swore to protect our ponies, you too, Whisper, and you would just hand them over!?”
“I don’t like it either, but rulers seem to have a tendency to care more for their pride than people. Binding the Duke and the Sisters into an agreement may be the best chance they have.”
“His Grace will never go for this!”
“Then he becomes a threat to those I protect.”
Silver Sword snarled, but before it could go beyond that her sister laid a hoof on her shoulder and she subsided. Argent Aegis spoke softly.
“We can’t hurt him.”
Whisper’s eyes narrowed, and Silver continued.
“He made us blood-bond him. We can’t fight him. We thought you knew.”
“When?”
“Last week, Thursday night. Friday for Aegis.”
“During your watches, no witnesses to gossip, no change in schedule to notice. I’m good, but I’m not omniscient.” He sighed, and continued. “Then don’t fight him, I can handle one monster with delusions of grandeur, but not a whole room of them.” Both Knights still looked sceptical. “Look. This is just a contingency, but if the worst happens, we can at least keep the innocent safe. Leave behind more than blood and pain.”
The two sisters looked at each other, silently communicating in the way only siblings can. Eventually, Silver spoke.
“We’re with you.”
Whisper nodded, and the group dispersed. As Silver turned to go, Whisper asked her to wait.
“Be careful of any distractions when guarding Shadow Dancer. If this becomes war, I need that clever, adorable little thing safe.”
September, 4 A.D.
“Do thou seek sympathy with tales of thy ‘niece’?”
“No. My apologies, I became distracted.”
“Why now? Has thy Duke conceded?”
“Silver Sword was right. I am here of my own volition because we are out of time.”
A commotion outside ended in a pegasus courier staggering inside, closely followed by a guard, one wing splinted. Luna recognised him as the one from the infirmary as he gave an unsteady bow.
“Your Highness, the Griffons are massing on the border, King Gunnar intends to invade!”
He fell over, and the guard swept him up, carrying him out. She saluted as she left.
“Thou knew?”
“I assumed you did. He’s been planning this for years. I had also assumed your courier beat the storm. Sorry.”
Luna blinked, and Whisper seemed different somehow, though she couldn’t quite work out how. His eyes creased as he sighed wearily. Outside, a guard yawned, and when Luna looked back, the moment had passed. She thought of what this news meant. They couldn’t stay, they’d need to march before the next dusk, which meant breaking the siege, and they couldn’t leave an enemy force behind them. They’d have to win in the next twelve hours and the only way to be certain would be to brute force the wards, and the only way to do that…
The Invocation of Noon Fury.
The power of the Sun turned on the fragile earth. There’d be nothing left. To even get the army to a safe distance they’d have to leave at dawn. The castle would run like hot wax and the ponies inside would burn, without even time to scream. Unless their blood-sorcerer proved exceptionally capable, in which case they may survive for a few seconds of searing agony.
Without speaking, Luna began writing on a blank piece of parchment. The terms Whisper had offered were good, massively in Equestria’s favour, but that was to be expected, the vampires had, after all, lost. Still, she stood to gain a lot more from this than he had offered, and maybe show a little mercy as well. When she finished, she presented the document to Whisper. Picking up a quill, he bit his own lip and, using the thin stream of blood as ink, signed it.
“I hope this goes better than my last Tartarean pact.”
Luna examined the spidery signature.
“We think that we have more honour than a Fiend.”
“Mirkwood…”
She looked up sharply, but Whisper was gone.
August, 4 A.D.
Mirkwood had fallen.
The Equestrians had undermined the west wall and now were slaughtering everyone they found. Lady Sanguine had tried to rally the militia, but judging from the screams she had failed to contain them. Night Secret galloped through the streets as pegasi swooped overhead, having cracked through the thick branches that had protected the town, dropping stones and alchemical concoctions that spread flames and terror. She hurriedly cast a spell to keep herself hidden. Briefly, she considered how lucky she was, flying wouldn’t save her neighbours, but her magic might just save her. Her hooves clattered on the cobbles as she rounded a corner onto the street where her small shop stood.
The bakery next door had taken a hit and was burning merrily, but her home had only just begun to smoulder. Warm Loaf was sprawled outside his door, an Equestrian spear in his back and his eyes wide and glassy, one wing twisted at an unnatural angle, it looked like the nocturnus had fallen from the second floor. Willing herself to ignore her dead friend, Night wrenched open her own door and dived inside. As she glanced around the inside of the small shop, one shelf exploded as the heat interacted with the dragonfire candles there. She’d have to report in person. Swearing, she headed into the back, threw back a rug and flipped open the trapdoor underneath. No ladder lead down into the dark, but a flash of magic transported her down.
The hidden cache was small, but that just meant it was easier to take it all. Short-blades strapped to her sides, a pack of rations and survival gear. The small desk and its documents were dealt with a different way. She cracked open a cask of oil and poured it, then lit a spark.
Back in the front of her shop, she pulled a handful of the more volatile components off the shelves and mixed them up into a cauldron. It hissed and spat, sending sparks skittering across the floor. Outside once more, she glanced around. Smoke covered the north-west sky, and from the sounds of fighting, the Equestrians were mostly to the west. An echoing crack and plume of debris told her the east gate had fallen. South, then. Above her, an Equestrian pegasus dived into the bakery’s upper window, then scrambled out a second later, holding a nocturnus foal. His fellow called out to him.
“What you do that for? You heard General Steel, no survivors.”
“He’s just a colt!”
“He’s a monster!”
Ghost was wriggling in the pegasus’s grasp, trying to get free even as the soldier grasped his head and began to twist, at least until a manabolt took off the pegasus’ wing. Ghost fell, flapping desperately to slow down. He managed it, bouncing painfully but harmlessly along the cobblestones. The other soldier dived towards Night, his wingblades extended to take her head off, but she blinked sideways, letting the pegasus impale himself on her sword. He fell to the ground, gurgling. She turned to the other, who was staring in horror at the mangled stump of his wing.
“Run.”
She scooped up Ghost and fled, heading south-east, ducking through back alleys where possible. Behind her, an explosion three streets wide signalled the loss of her shop, and all evidence with it. On her back, Ghost whimpered and choked, his lungs filled with smoke. Her own burning, Night stopped, cast a spell to clear her lungs, then turned, tapping her horn to Ghost’s chest and doing the same.
“I need you to be quiet, OK? We can’t let the soldiers find us.”
He nodded, and buried his face in her mane. She peered around the corner. The battle line had been drawn here, it seemed. General Steel was keeping Sanguine from flying away while his earth-bound soldiers harried the vampire, not landing any decisive blows, but forcing her to use energy to stay alive. It wouldn’t be long before she made a mistake and got herself killed.
“Hey!”
A shout from behind her. A unicorn in the robes of a battlemage, his horn lit. Night Secret snarled and met the challenge, a plan beginning to form.
March, 1 A.D.
Inky Black stared down at the corpses in horror, blood trickling across his chin. Whisper silently held out a rag, but Inky didn’t take it.
“Did you do this?”
“No. Duke Crimson believed your expertise too valuable to lose.”
Inky didn’t respond, and Whisper began dragging wolf corpses out of the room, talking as he did.
“You’ll want to avoid sunlight for a decade or so. After a while it just becomes uncomfortable. And don’t worry about feeding, you might crave sentient blood, but animal works, so long as you get enough, or whatever you bite’s big enough. Guess it’s just the amount of energy they’ve got spare. Even if you do bite a pony, you don’t have to kill them…”
“Is there a cure?”
Whisper froze, and turned back to the shivering scholar.
“Not that I know of, but if anyone can find it, it’s you.”
September, 4 A.D.
After the fall of Mirkwood, with only two survivors, Whisper had become acutely aware that the only living nocturnus were trapped in the castle now under siege. He sat in the dark, his wings wrapped tightly around him as he thought. Dusk was approaching, and with the Griffon’s move he was out of time. One last plea had been made to the Duke, but he’d simply decreed that they would take as many Equestrians with them as they could. The door to his room creaked open, and someone small entered, sniffling. Disentangling himself from his wings, Whisper peered at Shadow Dancer, blinking in the pre-dusk light.
Limping, consistent with injury to withers, I smell blood. He shifted, dropping down and enfolding her in his wings, seeking the wound. Two punctures, three inches apart, still bleeding: subject to anticoagulant. Vampire bite. He gently licked around the hurt, snuffling reassuringly (and deeply). Traces of perfume (expensive), leather, steel and sweat, latter blood-tainted. Fighter, just come off duty. Wealthy and vain. He glanced over the duty roster on his desk, careful not to disturb her. Red Death.
A whisper along the blood links summoned Inky.
“Stay with her. Keep her safe.”
Red Death was not hard to find, relaxing in a side-cavern, carefully restyling his mane after removing his battle armour. He was so engrossed in his work that he didn’t notice Whisper until the spymaster put his head through the mirror, before dragging him back and slamming him into a wall.
“Thou hurt Shadow Dancer.”
“On my father’s orders! Didn’t thou hear?”
The arrogant smirk vanished when Whisper knocked a couple of teeth out, and when Red Death continued, it was with more panic.
“He said that if the serfs wouldn’t fight, they’d have to serve other ways! If we give our lives to save them, they should do the same!”
Whisper kicked him in the gut, and Red Death toppled over, wheezing. Whisper took up the lordling’s sword and struck off his head. Behind him, somepony gasped.
“Whisper? What have you done!?”
“Duke Crimson has gone mad. We act now, Silver.”
“I’ll get my sister.”
The great hall was quiet. Whisper had quietly ensured the only ones present were Cursed. And Night Secret, who had insisted. She was currently lurking invisibly in one corner, having snuck in when Whisper had entered. Silver Sword and Argent Aegis were sat at a table, quaffing ale even more messily than usual, and Inky was wandering around the edge of the room, dribbling blood from a small cut on his leg.
“So, Whisper? Still planning surrender?”
Bleeding Heart called from one table, sounding decidedly drunk, and several other vampires laughed. Whisper rolled his eyes.
“The Duke has my counsel. He is free to act on that as he wishes.”
“It is fortunate I have more courage than thee.”
A faint crackle passed through the air as Inky completed his circuit. Silver Sword and Argent Aegis reacted first, blades carving through the ponies next to them, flesh dissolving into ash as the vampires died. Night Secret was next, the great doors slamming shut and a shimmering seal appearing. Whisper dived back, taking up a dropped spear, driving it through a vampire, then striding forwards. Several shouts of “Treachery!” echoed through the chamber, but Duke Crimson didn’t bother with words, instead taking up his own sword, and diving on his erstwhile spymaster.
Planting the spear, Whisper ducked aside, but Crimson twisted mid-air to avoid impaling himself. Jumping over a sword-swing, Whisper retrieved the spear and jabbed out at Crimson, who batted aside the thrust. The two circled each other as the sisters carved through the other vampires. Bleeding Heart attempted a stab at Whisper, but was intercepted by Silver Sword, who kicked him into the fireplace with a satisfied noise. If Crimson could get inside Whisper’s guard, he’d have him, but Whisper had the advantage on reach.
Crimson tensed, then moved, diving backwards and kicking a heavy table at Whisper. Caught off guard by the move, Whisper jumped straight up, forced to leave the spear. With the other vampires dead, Night dropped the seal and instead blasted at Crimson, who deflected the manabolts back at her, catching her a glancing blow to the temple and knocking her out. Taking his opportunity, Crimson pounced on Whisper, driving him into the ground.
“And you have condemned them all.”
He said, raising his blade for the kill. A spear tip erupted from his chest and as he disintegrated Whisper saw Argent’s face, a grim mask. She didn’t look at him, instead staggering over to her sister as her blood began to boil.
Argent Aegis did not scream, but Silver Sword did enough of that for both as her sister died.
When dawntime came, Celestia raised the sun before leaving her tent. When she did, she was greeted by an unexpected sight, as ponies ran back and forth, packing up the camp, and the Equestrian standard flying from the castle. An officer gave her a brief explanation, and she made her way to the drawbridge, now standing open, where Luna was waiting.
“Sister! You’ve been busy.”
A steady stream of ponies was making its way in and out of the castle, but a sudden pause drew both Princesses’ attention. A group of three nocturnus, surrounded by many guards, were escorted out. One, the only mare, was weeping into her armour, another, swathed in deep cloak that left nothing exposed, and the third, glancing about in a way that suggested he noticed everything. Celestia turned a quizzical look on her sister.
“The only surviving vampires.”
A sceptical glance at the many nocturnus surrounding them as the Equestrian soldiers sorted their prisoners.
“Our knowledge was incomplete.”
A square of ground, with the three vampires in the centre as they faced their doom.
First to step forwards was Silver Sword, her eyes puffy and red. Celestia began to recite.
“Dame Silver Sword, thou are accused of murder, use of dark magic, complicity in war crimes and crimes against equinity. How do thou plead?”
“Guilty.”
“The sentence is death, to be carried out immediately. Have you anything to say?”
“My sister… She died to stop the Blood Duke. Remember her with honour.”
Celestia nodded. A bolt of golden light descended from the sky, and when it faded, there was nothing left but ash. Inky Black stepped forwards, his cloak nearly tripping him, but he manged it.
“Magister Inky Black, you are accused of the use of dark magic, complicity in war crimes and crimes against equinity. How do you plead?”
“Guilty.”
Before Celestia could speak, Luna cut in.
“We are aware of mitigating circumstances. Thy sentence is to submit to service of the crown.”
A pair of dark-armoured soldiers escorted him away, but not before he could turn a look on Whisper, who ignored it. Whisper stepped forwards, but before Celestia could begin the recitation again, a shout cut through the crowd.
“Unca Whisper!”
Whisper recoiled as Shadow Dancer chased up to him, skittering away from her tackle-hug. A panting Feather Spark staggered up behind them.
“Sorry, your highnesses…gasp…she got away.”
A dark blue aura wrapped around Shadow Dancer, lifting her away from Whisper, who looked up at Princess Luna.
“Please, if you have any mercy, do not let her see this.”
Luna dumped the filly onto Feather Spark, and dismissed her with a gesture. Shadow Dancer refused to go quietly, and it took several minutes for the ranger to drag the wailing foal away. Once she was gone, Celestia resumed her duty.
“Whisper, you are accused of the use of dark magic, sabotage, espionage, complicity in war crimes and crimes against equinity. How do you plead?”
“Guilty.”
The golden fire descended.
October, 4.A.D.
“Your highnesses, the known positions of Gunnar’s armies. And a report of Inky Black’s progress on a cure.”
“Thank thee, Midnight Blade”
The nocturnus saluted Luna as she took the stack of parchment, careful not to dislodge Shadow Dancer from where she was dozing on his back, her face buried in his bone-white mane. As he turned to go, Celestia looked up and called for him to halt.
“Who are thee? You look familiar.”
Startled, Midnight Blade stammered a little over his reply, but got it out eventually.
“I was one of Whisper’s spies. Got a talent for it.” So that’s what the dragon’s-eye cutie mark meant. “I’ve been helping Luna integrate his networks. Maybe it’ll atone for some of his crimes.”
“The foal is his as well?”
“Yes, ma’am. She misses her uncle, still a bit clingy, and tricksy enough that I don’t want to leave her, but I think she’ll be alright. May I go?”
Celestia met his gaze, trying to find any sign of a lie in his colourless eyes, but found nothing. She returned her attention to the new threat to her ponies.
Author's Note
This feels like a bit of a mess, but it’s been so long since I’ve published anything.
As ever, constructive criticism appreciated.
