Ponest Dungeon

Chapter 8: Requisite Respite

Week 3, Day 3, Morning

The recovery mission was not going as smoothly as Shining had envisioned.

He’d set out with Amethyst to the broken-down cart they’d passed on the old road in the hopes that the two of them could retrieve the crests he assumed still lay within. More ponies would have been preferable, but Rainbow and Zecora were still recuperating, as were survivors of the ill-fated undertaking in Froggy Bottom Bog.

Shining had thought that the two of them would be more than suited to a simple gallop-and-grab, but four brigands had descended upon them whilst they were unpacking one of the crates.

Spinning in a broad circle, Shining swung his sword, the tip of it striking the closest bandit in her temple. The blade passed through her eye, the bridge of her muzzle, her other eye, and her other temple.

The stricken mare screamed as she fell to the ground, and continued to wail in agony as she held her hooves up to her ruined face. “I can’t see! Oh Celestia, I can’t see!”

Shining moved to put the suffering mare out of her misery, and would have, had one of her stallion companions not charged and bucked him into Amethyst and, subsequently, the broken-down crest-wagon. The vehicle, already severely damaged, collapsed, burying Amethyst in debris and pinning Shining’s back half to the ground.

Struggling to free himself, Shining watched as the stallion approached, sword drawn in clenched teeth. “You’re going to pay for cutting up my mare’s face. I think I’ll take your marefriend there and—” The bandit suddenly turned his head up and to the side, his eyes going wide and his hoof raising to point shakily. “Oh Celestia, what in Tartarus is that?!”

As the other brigands looked in the indicated direction, Shining saw a massive mint-colored blur bowl into the bandit, using two massive claw-like appendages to grasp him by the neck and a hind leg, and then summarily lift him over its head.

The being was terrifying; easily twice the head-height of a normal pony, bipedal, with long gangly limbs, a flat face, completely devoid of piliation everywhere but the mane and eyebrows—and yet the eyes, disturbing as their placement was, were unmistakably those of a pony. It wore rags that hung to its hips and flanks, and chains that hung across its disturbingly vertical barrel.

“Oh Celestia, put me down!” shrieked the raised bandit, his sword dropping when he made his horrified exclamation.

“Anything you say,” replied the abomination, swinging the bandit about by his hind leg like a living flail; first cracking his head off of the cobbles, and then hurling his dazed and bleeding form into another one of the brigands.

The only bandit still standing spun on their hooves and ran face-first into an axe swung by a beige mare, who was wearing a rugged-looking suit of scale mail. Hints of a blue and pink mane peeked out from under an iron helmet.

The bipedal monstrosity bounded over to the other two stunned brigands, raised one of its forelimbs, and lowered one of its chains to shackle the two bandits together.

The axe-wielding mare put her forehooves on the bandit’s muzzle—which occupied both sides of her axe—and shoved him off the blade, ruining his face in the process.

“Damnit,” she swore.

“Bon Bon, you need to—” the monstrosity’s statement was cut short as it devolved into a roar, which further devolved into an ear-rending scream. Its limbs shortened, its posture normalized to horizontal, its body sprouted fur all over, and its chains moved—seemingly of their own accord—to wrap around its barrel. With its newly formed hooves, it shakily latched a padlock through the chains across its chest. The transformation having completed, it now looked very much like a unicorn mare—who started talking again as if her sentence hadn’t just been interrupted by a horrifying metamorphosis; “—stop hitting them in the face like that. We’ll never be able to collect the bounties if the authorities can’t identify them!”

Bon Bon removed her helmet. “Well, I didn’t cut her face,” she indicated the now-still, eyeless brigand mare. “And I wouldn’t have had to hit him in the face if he didn’t panic and run when you let the beast out, Lyra!”

The two looked at each other with expressions which Shining felt bordered on murderous anger—and then they chuckled, clenched teeth replaced with warm smiles as they placed forehooves on each other’s withers.

“Sorry, best friend.”

“Sorry, best friend.”

The two hugged, then pulled away slightly, gazing intently into each other’s eyes. They each tilted their heads and moved as if to press their muzzles together.

“Uh, excuse me,” Shining said from his position half-buried under the cart.

Both mares turned from their “argument” to look at the pinned pony.

“Do you two think you could maybe… help us out here?”

Amethyst’s muffled vocalization of agreement could barely be heard from under the collapsed cart.

Week 3, Day 3, Noon

“You know,” Shining said, pointing at the stallion strapped to Bon Bon’s back, “that’s the second bandit we’ve run into who was more interested in tough-talk than in situational awareness.”

“Yeah,” Bon Bon replied, “the profession of banditry doesn’t tend to attract the smartest of ponies.”

“I wonder if it’s something they teach in bandit school,” Lyra mused, earning her a flat look from the others—but especially Bon Bon.

“Speaking of professions,” Amethyst said as she tried to tighten a strap that had six crests attached to it. “Lyra, was it?”

“Yep.”

“So,” Amethyst pressed, “what is this I hear about you turning into a giant monster?”

“That?” Lyra waved a hoof dismissively. “That’s just a foreign spirit possessing my body.”

Amethyst’s eyebrows threatened to rise off of her head. “That’s insane,” she said. “Why would you risk your soul by allowing some foreign entity to share your body?!”

“I didn’t really have much choice in the matter,” Lyra replied, shifting the weight of the two face-mangled corpses strung across her back. “While I was looking through all of the restricted texts, it just… happened.”

“Just… happened?” Amethyst furrowed her brows.

“Yeah! One minute I’m reading over the forbidden litany of soul transference, and the next, wham! 12 hooves high, upright, and arms and hands!”

“Just from reading it?” Amethyst said with no small amount of incredulity evident in her voice.

“Somepony can’t read unless it’s out loud,” Bon Bon deadpanned, her expression one of half-lidded exasperation. She elbowed one of her bound and gagged passengers in the face when they tried to mumble something.

“Well,” Shining said, “if Rainbow were here, I’m sure she’d find that hilarious; but I’m a lot less inclined to feel that way. I’m more worried about—are you in control? Or does it control you when… ‘it’ manifests?”

Lyra looked skyward, a thoughtful expression on her muzzle. “It’s like letting a wild animal out of a cage, except… I’m riding it, watching what it does, telling it what to do. It listens to me most of the time, and I can force it back into its cage if I need to. That’s really the best I can do to explain it, it’s just so… exhilarating, and terrifying at the same time.”

Shining raised an eyebrow, taking a moment to process what he’d heard. He turned his head to Lyra’s companion. “How about you, Miss Bon Bon?”

She shrugged in response. “Just your average bounty hunter here. After we turn these degenerates over to the Ponyville authorities—prolly take them a week or two to verify these scumbags’ identities and pay us properly—we’ll prolly look for employment with your outfit. From what you told us, the pay sounds decent enough.”

Glancing at Lyra, Shining frowned. “We’ll have to see what Blueblood thinks. He’s the one bankrolling the entire operation anyhow.”

Week 4, Day 2, Afternoon

Rainbow held a weathered ceramic disk motionless in her hoof. She stared at her lucky gambling chip as if it might somehow hold the answers that she hadn’t been able to find at the bottom of countless cider mugs. With her gaze unwavering, the raucous sounds of the tavern around her slowly faded away as her mind replayed events of the past few weeks again and again.

She’d been making fools of the undead, they hadn’t even touched her until they met that big one with the shield.

The arbalest bolt sank into her flank. It hurt, but she knew she could deal with it; she was awesome, after all. The feeling of Amethyst’s holy magic knitting her wound actually hurt more than when the injury had been inflicted.

But then she turned and felt the wind driven from her. She blinked stupidly at the feathered wooden dowel sticking out of her chest. When she tried to breathe, she only drew in a lungful of blood and sputtered. The healing magic hit her again and, while the pain was excruciating, she was able to draw breath again—

Until the fire tore through her side, causing her to spray blood like some kind of macabre fountain. This couldn’t be happening to her! She was the best there was! They couldn’t touch her earlier! But now, she was drifting swiftly into the dark clutches of death. The shadows danced around the edges of her vision, closing in like a pack of hungry timber wolves. There was only a pinprick of light left, with horrors closing in from all sides.

“Stop killing Rainbow Dash!” The pain this time was unbearable as her side repaired itself and she gasped back from the brink of death. She inhaled frantically, like somepony who had been about to drown, but broke the surface of the water just in the nick of time.

She’d almost died.

And she’d almost died again, in the bog.

Zecora looked at the enormous thrumming hive and then to her. “When you see the fire flash, run with me, Rainbow Dash.”

Rainbow had barely lit the torch when they were both swarmed. Thousands of tiny needles shoved their way into her skin. At first it was painful and irritating, but manageable… but there were so many, so very, very many. She’d started to get dizzy and then… she never saw what had stabbed her. But she felt the sharp, fiery pain in her side. It all went numb. And then everything went dark.

If Zecora hadn’t carried her out of there—

“Stop killing Rainbow Dash!”

She couldn’t breathe; her lungs were filled with blood.

“Run with me, Rainbow Dash!”

She couldn’t move; the mosquito anesthetic numbed her.

“Stop killing Rainbow Dash!”

There was only pain.

“Run with me, Rainbow Dash!”

There was only fear.

“Rainbow Dash!”

There was only… despair.

“Rainbow Dash!”

The voices called to her, encouraging her to keep going, to keep fighting. But all she could focus on was her own impending doom.

“Rainbow Dash!”

Everypony’s doom.

“Rainbow Dash!”

We’re all doomed—

A hoof shoved her roughly. “Rainbow Dash!”

Her lucky chip fell to the table with a clatter. Rainbow looked up slowly into Shining Armor’s worried eyes.

“Celestia above, Dash,” Shining said. “How many have you had? You’ve been over here all day—”

Rainbow didn’t know what to say, if anything. All she really wanted to do was curl up, or cry, or scream. She downed the remainder of her cider mug instead.

“Woah! Hold on there, Dash!” Shining put a hoof on her withers, but she shrugged him off and turned away.

Rainbow raised a forehoof. “Barkeep! One more here!”

Shining put a forehoof over hers and forced it down to the table. “Dash, you need to stop drinking. Blueblood wants you, me, Amethyst and Zecora to do a patrol up and down the old road. Some bandits—”

Slapping his hoof away, Rainbow raised her forehoof again. “Keep ‘em coming, Berry!”

“Dash.” Shining interposed himself between Rainbow and the bar. “We have work to do.”

“Go away,” Rainbow grumbled.

A pained expression crossed Shining’s face. “Dash… I know you got hurt pretty bad, twice. But you’ve gotta get back on the horse, and on the wagon too. You drinking this much isn’t going to fix anything.”

“Thanks, mom.” Rainbow tried to lean so that she could see the bar around Shining, but he kept maneuvering himself to be in her way. When it became clear that she’d have to stand up, she shakily rose to her hooves and took a step towards the bar.

Shining placed his forehoof on her withers again. “The Dash I know would be too awesome to drown her worries away.”

Rainbow froze in place and didn’t reply.

“She’d face those worries,” Shining continued, “tell them that there’s no way they’d be able to keep her down, because—”

Placing a hoof on Shining’s lips, Rainbow stifled a chuckle. “Ok, fine. I’ll go with you, just stop being so corny.”

“It’s not corny if it’s true!” Shining said in a laughably argumentative tone.

Rainbow smiled and hit him in the shoulder. “That makes it even more corny, you dope.” She stumbled and put her forehoof across his withers for balance. “You said something about bandits?”

“Forgetting something?” Shining was grinning like an idiot again.

Rainbow thrust a wing out and retrieved her lucky chip. “Not that I’ll need this, you understand?”

Shining’s smile widened. “Of course.”

Week 4, Day 3, Afternoon

The bandit stallion screamed as his face was eaten away by whatever Zecora packed into her sachets. As he clawed at the shrieking ruin that used to be his muzzle, his forehooves began to melt away as well.

Rainbow landed nearby, slashing open the throat of a mare, who had tried to throw a knife at her. She spun around and fired her pistol point-blank into the dissolving bandit, partially to put him out of his misery, and partially to stop the unholy noises he was making. “What is with these bozos, Shining? Didn’t they get the hint after you, Amethyst and the ‘best friends’ cleared out a bunch of them last week?”

“Maybe they learn slow,” Shining said as he drove his sword into a prone bandit’s back.

“Hay!” one of the bandits yelled. “Don’t talk like we’re not—” The bandit was silenced when Amethyst’s cudgel cracked his skull open.

“I mean seriously! What are they think—” Rainbow kicked the throat-slit mare onto her back and recoiled as she was shot in the chest point-blank with a pistol the bandit had been laying on. Shocked, she stumbled backwards a few steps before collapsing in a heap.

Amethyst blasted Rainbow with a surge of healing energies, forcing out the bullet and mostly closing the entry hole. Zecora galloped close and upended a vial of blue liquid, which fully healed the remainder of Rainbow’s wound.

Swearing like a sailor, Shining spun around and brought his sword down on the bandit-mare’s neck, severing her head from her body. “Dash, are you—”

“Why?” Rainbow looked up at the others with tears in her eyes. “What am I doing wrong? Why does this keep happening?”

Amethyst and Zecora glanced at each other and shuffled their hooves awkwardly.

Shining frowned. “We should head back. I think that was the last of them anyhow.”

Week 5, Day 1, Evening

The entirety of the company, with the conspicuous exception of Rainbow Dash, sat at the drawing room table with Blueblood. Steepling his forehooves, he looked around at the gathered ponies. “With the mosquito problem eradicated, and the old road bandits driven off, it's time to get back to tracking down the necromancer who’s been defiling the catacomb ruins. Now, I don’t like sending anypony out on two missions in a row like this. But with Snips dead—Celestia rest his poor soul—and no encouraging prospective recruits, our second team is down one pony, and is going to need one of your expertise,” he said, indicating Amethyst, Shining, and Zecora. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to—”

“There is no need to insist,” Zecora said with a raised hoof. “I am more than happy to assist.”

“Thank you, Zecora.” Blueblood looked at the Apples and Snails. “Now, I know the memory of that swamp-beast is probably still fresh in your minds. Are all three of you still up for this?”

Applejack nodded. “I reckon we ain’t got no problem smashin’ up a buncha old bones, your grace.”

“Eeyup,” said Big Mac.

Winona barked.

Blueblood looked over to Snails. “What about you?”

Looking intently at the table for a moment, Snails raised his dark-blue eyes and locked them on Blueblood. “Me and Snips were gonna adventure around Equestria together. I’d be letting Snips down if I didn’t keep on going, eh? And I’m not gonna let him down again.”

Putting both of his hooves on the table, Blueblood stood. “Very well, then. You four will leave tomorrow. Get some rest.”

Week 5, Day 4, Evening

Applejack watched with tired, yet somehow wide eyes as Rainbow Dash pounded down yet another cider. “Celestia above, Rainbow, cider’s meant to be enjoyed! You ain’t but getting half of the experience chugging it like that!”

It looked like Rainbow tried to flip Applejack the hoof, but all she managed to do was knock one of her mugs over. She let out a slurred, drunken shriek and started trying to lap the beverage from the table before it could drip to the floor.

Shaking her head, Applejack took a sip of her own cider, cringing at the taste. She put the mug down and turned to the bartender. “Landsakes! Now, what in tarnation is this here, Berry? I just got back from wrangling a bushel-full of skeletons in a bunch of dark tunnels, and all I wanted was to sit down and have some taste of home! Now, I know Sweet Apple acres is just outside of town. And I know what Sweet Apple Acres cider tastes like. And this ain’t Sweet Apple Acres cider!”

Wiping down a mug using a questionably clean rag, Berry looked at Applejack with exasperation written cleanly across her features. “That’s because Sweet Apple Acres stopped selling to me years ago.”

“Stopped selling?” Applejack asked.

“Yes,” Berry replied. “They’ve been sending all of their cider up to Canterlot ever since they had Celestia put in all those ‘upgrades.’ They’re prolly making loads of bits selling it to the rich ponies up there, never mind that now us country bumpkins need to order our cider from Appleoosa if we want anything to drink.”

Applejack slammed a hoof on the table. “Hogwash! That don’t sound like Granny Smith, not at all. She was always looking out for the local ponyfolk. I ain’t gonna believe she’d keep y’all from buying her cider unless something or somepony was forcing her hoof.”

“Well,” Berry said, “I don’t know why she suddenly stopped; I just know that she did. Hay… you’re an Apple; that makes you family, right? Maybe you can trot on over there and ask her what’s going on?

“No,” Applejack said. “I burnt that bridge long ago. She ain’t got time for somepony like me that just up and left. Especially not after my brother followed me and left her all alone, too.”

“Well, until you can put your petty family squabbles aside and get us cider from Sweet Apple Acres, I guess you’ll have to live with what we get from—” Berry looked at the brand burnt into the side of the keg she had on the bar. “—Braeburn’s Brokeback Beverages.”

Week 5, Day 5, Morning

“You’re hired.”

Blueblood could feel the heat of Shining’s glare as he instructed Ditzy to escort Lyra and Bon Bon to their rooms. Amethyst, on the other hoof, didn’t seem to be nearly as perturbed.

Once the two mares had left, Shining turned to Blueblood. “Sir, why did you just hire them? We need to be careful with Lyra there. That… thing within her, that she says she’s keeping contained with those magical chains and locks, I don’t trust her when she says it’s not dangerous to us.”

“Your concern is noted,” Blueblood said, “but we’re short-staffed and I can’t keep overworking all of you. I had to send Zecora on the ruins expedition earlier this week because we lost Snips. Granted, she dealt with exposure to the undead better than the Apples and Snails. But two missions in a row have left her exhausted enough that she opted for bed rest instead of attending this hiring session. She likely won’t be able to join you on the next ruins excursion I’m planning. Not to mention that Miss Dash is still a wreck after last week.”

Lighting his horn, Blueblood lifted a piece of parchment from the table. “Besides, after witnessing the horror that was the mission to Froggy Bottom Bog, I thought it would be beneficial to have something monstrous on our side—you said she picked a pony up and swung them around as an improvised weapon?”

Shining’s frown intensified. “Yes, she did, but—”

“And,” Blueblood interjected, “she did not attack you or Amethyst, despite your proximity to the bandits?”

“No, she didn’t.”

Sighing, Blueblood favored Shining with an exasperated expression. “Then what’s the problem?”

Releasing a sigh of his own, Shining shook his head. “I… don’t know, Sir. They just… unnerve me—and I thought you’d just turn them down out-of-hoof.”

Blueblood gave him a hard look. “Shining, just the other week you advised me on just how perilous this undertaking was, and how we would have to keep at it. We can’t just turn down applicants because they’re too dangerous; that defeats the whole purpose of trying to recruit effective fighting ponies in the first place!” He rubbed his hooves against his temples. “Do you have any idea how many unqualified applicants I’ve had to turn down these last few weeks?”

“I know, Sir, I just—”

“Shining,” Blueblood said, “you and Amethyst here have barely had two weeks to recover from having a cart fall on you and nearly break your backs. I shouldn’t have even sent you both on that bandit patrol last week. Amethyst has been resting up. You should follow her example, go up to the abbey and meditate, or pray or… something. I need you both ready for the next excursion.”

“Yes… Sir.” Shining turned and walked out of the room, head lowered. It looked like he was walking to his own execution.

“What are your thoughts, Amethyst?” Blueblood felt less sure now that Shining had left.

She gave him a measured look. “I share Shining’s reservations about Lyra, Prince. But I also concur with your assessment; we would be fools not to utilize her. I’d much rather see her transform into a monster to mangle our foes than see another of our allies torn to shreds.”

Blueblood smiled, perhaps warmly. “I’m glad you see things the way that I do, especially since there… there is something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about, for a while now.”

Amethyst raised an eyebrow.

Week 5, Day 5, Afternoon

“Prince,” Amethyst’s voice was surprisingly steady as she knelt, shifting through the fireplace ashes with a cautious forehoof.

“Call me Blue,” Blueblood responded. “If you’re going to be acting as my spiritual doctor for this particular problem, I’d rather we were on closer terms.”

“As you wish, Prin—Blue. If what you’re telling me is true, then you really should have come to me sooner—” As her hoof caught on and flipped a charred skull, she recoiled, as if stung by a wasp. “Celestia above!”

Blueblood frowned. “Swearing is very unlike you, Amethyst.”

“Apologies,” Amethyst said, looking upward and making the sign of the sun. She quickly stood and brushed her soot-stained hoof on the lower part of her robes. “I thought maybe the stress was getting to you, giving you nightmares or something… but this is definitive proof—this is bad! Prin—Blue—we need to get you to the sanitarium! Make sure you haven’t been infected—”

“No sanitarium,” Blueblood said firmly. “Especially now that I know I’m not crazy.”

“But… you said at least two of these… things managed to make contact with you. You don’t even know what that bandit corpse did, but Neighsay pumped your stomach full of necromantic material—” Her face discolored slightly. “Especially since we’ve known that there’s a necromancer on the loose! You can’t take this lightly.”

“That is why I’ve confided in you, Amethyst.” Blueblood stopped just short of placing his hoof on her withers. “You are a holy vestal. You have the ability to detect if I’ve been tainted by foul necromancy, and to purify me if I have.”

“Blue—” She regarded him with a stern expression but eventually released a sigh of resignation. “Alright, stand still then.” Amethyst put her hoof to her chest and her horn started to glow faintly.

After a few moments, the glowing stopped.

Looking at Blueblood with a relieved expression, Amethyst smiled. “You’re clean. I don’t detect any necromantic energies within you.”

Blueblood released a heavy breath. “Well, thank Celestia for that, at least. Now we can focus on figuring out how and why it’s happening, and on preventing it in the future.”

“Absolutely,” Amethyst said. “I’ll start working on wards to keep your chamber free of any undead trespassers and then I can start trying to trace the energies—” She looked at the patch on the right side of Blueblood’s face. “Blue, you said you haven’t been to the sanitarium… has anypony looked at your eye yet?”

“No. Do you—do you think you can do something about it?”

She grinned. “I won’t know till I see it.”

Reluctantly, Blueblood reached a hoof up and removed the patch from the right side of his face.

Gasping, Amethyst leaned closer. “I’ve… never seen anything like it,” she said, angling for a better look at Blueblood’s stygian eye. “It’s like the pupil expanded to encompass everything else—but there are no veins… I don’t see the normal markings I’d expect to see on the back of your retina, and it’s not reflecting any light at all.”

“Any ideas?” Blueblood asked.

Lighting her horn, Amethyst pointed it at Blueblood’s eye. “Maybe, but I want to do a diagnostic first. Let me try to—”

Amethyst lay on her side, the cold and wet stone floor sucking the heat from her body. Horrible sounds echoed around her—the clash of metal, feral roaring, shouting—but it was too dark for her to see properly. She felt tears streaming down her muzzle in a torrent, as her body was wracked with sobs. Her numbed forehooves, which were pressed against her barrel, were filled with something warm, ropey, and slippery. A flash of light revealed—

“Snap out of it!” Blueblood slapped her muzzle, and Amethyst was painfully brought back to the physicality of his bedroom.

Her vision blurred, dampness soaking into her muzzle, but Amethyst couldn’t even move to wipe the tears from her eyes. She was in shock; paralyzed, despite every instinct screaming impulses at her to gallop away, somewhere, anywhere other than where she was at that very moment.

“Are you okay?” Blueblood’s question barely registered in her racing thoughts. “Amethyst!” He shook her slightly. “Amethyst!”

Turning her gaze towards Blueblood, Amethyst saw the concern etched across his features. She felt as if her heart had started to slow down—only for fear to grip her insides, like a massive twisting claw, as her eyes wandered over the right side of his face. While once again covered by the patch, it rekindled knowledge of what lay within that nightmarish orb of unreflective darkness. A bout of sudden shudders shook through her at the traumatic recollection of what she had witnessed, and a shameful blush rose to her face as she felt a wet warmth run down her hind legs.

“Amethyst! Amethyst, are you—what the—” Blueblood looked down. “Celestia above.” He quickly looked around the room, and carefully lead her towards a cushion. “Okay, okay, let’s sit you down for a moment.”

Despite her body not wanting to move, Amethyst somehow allowed herself to be pulled, stumbling and sniffling, to the floor pillow. Her legs collapsed under her when she reached it and she broke down, sobbing uncontrollably.

Blueblood kept a steady hoof on her withers as she wept. “Umm… calm down, okay?” He mentally berated himself for his lack of finesse. “It’s all right now,” he said to her in the most gentle voice he could muster. “Just… just breathe, and everything will be okay? Just breathe.”

Struggling for some time to do just as he said, eventually Amethyst calmed slightly. As her tears abated, and she found herself able to speak again, she looked up at Blueblood’s worried face and babbled “I—I’m sorry, I—”

“Hush,” he said, placing his other hoof to her shoulder. “You’re okay now, that’s all that matters for the moment.”

Her face burned crimson as she looked down at herself. “But I—”

Blueblood moved his hoof from her shoulder to her chin, and raised it so that she could look him in his eye. “Forget about that. The important thing is that you’re okay.”

Despite the tremors that still ran through her, she managed a weak nod.

Still looking her in the eye, Blueblood’s hoof moved to Amethyst’s shoulder again. “What happened?”

Amethyst struggled to think of the events, step by step. “I… cast a simple diagnostic spell, to see what had happened to the structure of your eye. But it—it was only supposed to show me what your eye looked like on the inside. Whatever happened… it took over my spell and flooded all of my senses. It was like I was living a memory, except that it was something that hasn’t ever happened to me.”

Another round of jitters passed through Amethyst as she attempted to focus on the memory. “There was fighting… it was pitch black… I was badly hurt.” She began to tear up again, and her left forehoof gripped itself tightly to her stomach. “I was so scared, and in pain… I was dying… and something was coming for me, to speed things along—”

“Something?” Blueblood asked. “A monster?”

Shaking her head violently, Amethyst closed her eyes, as if to fend off the unwanted imagery. “No! That’s the worst part!” Tears began to flow freely down her muzzle again. “It was a pony. Just a pony. I begged them to help me—I knew that they could, I thought that they would… but then I saw her eyes pass over me, regarding me like I was a thing—a lowest form of filth—and I knew. She meant to kill me.” Amethyst began to bawl again.

“Hush,” Blueblood said again, bringing Amethyst into a tight embrace. “Hush now. You’re here, you’re in one piece, and there is nopony here trying to kill you.”

“Thank you,” she managed between sobs, returning the hug. It was several moments before she pulled away, concern and embarrassment clear on her face. “You… you won’t tell anypony else about—”

“Not even Ditzy,” Blueblood said. “What happens in Prince Blueblood’s room, stays in Prince Blueblood’s room.” He winked, perhaps a bit too suggestively, earning him a flat look from Amethyst.

Standing up slowly, Blueblood looked down at Amethyst with a concerned expression. “Don’t worry, we’ll figure out what happened. But first, let’s sneak you to a bath and I’ll see about getting your robes washed.”

Week 5, Day 6, Afternoon

“So we’re it, eh?” Lyra’s statement earned eyerolls from Bon Bon and Shining.

“Indeed,” Blueblood replied, showing extreme resilience in the face of Lyra’s continued interruptions. “You four,” he said, indicating Shining, Amethyst, Lyra, and Bon Bon, “are the only ponies currently fit for field duty; Rainbow is still knee-deep in cider, trying to forget her most recent brush with death; Zecora, Snails, and the Apples are resting after their attempt to track down the necromancer a few days ago. While they didn’t find any clues to go off of, they at least they managed to clear out another section of the catacombs.”

Shifting in her seat, Amethyst—who was not wearing her armor, much to the surprise of all but Blueblood—tapped on the Everfree Forest map. “We’re deploying to search the ruins again.”

“What is the objective?” Bon Bon asked as she studied the maps and charts which blanketed the table.

“Your objectives are twofold,” Blueblood answered. “First: recovery of valuables and allegiance-heirlooms. The unexplored portions of the catacomb ruins should still be filled with chests and cabinets from which we can replenish our coffers, which are only slowly recovering after the Froggy Bottom Bog expedition. I only ask that you not loot the coffins themselves. We already have a necromancer loose down there; we don’t need the dead reanimating of their own accord as well just because somepony got greedy.

Sliding a piece of parchment across the table with a hoof, Blueblood showed the others a sketch of one of the crests they’d retrieved. “Recovery of these heirloom items is also important. Spending those we’d acquired already, I was able to extend our list of contacts and ensured both that more recruits will arrive, and that we’ll have basic necessities covered for those bunking here at the estate.”

Amethyst frowned as she gestured over the blank portions of the map. “Our second objective is to track down the necromancer responsible for all of the skeletal horrors in the catacombs, before they can start reanimating other, more dangerous, things.”

“Yes,” Blueblood said. “I’ve been looking through the new journals recovered last week and have found that she was aware of their presence down there. She makes several references to where she thought them to be hiding out underground, but without further mapping of the tunnel networks, the references are useless to us.”

“We’ll need to keep an eye out for landmarks, and other features to navigate by,” Amethyst said. “The sooner we are able to find and deal with this defiler of the dead, the better.”

“You’ll be heading out tomorrow morning,” Blueblood said. “Any questions?”

The party shook their heads.

“Good, we’ll adjourn then. I’ll see everypony bright and early tomorrow, when we load your gear.” Blueblood lit his horn, looked down, and began writing as the party rose to leave.

After the other ponies had filed out, Shining Armor still remained. “Sir?”

Blueblood looked up from the parchment. “How can I help you, Shining?”

Despite standing at attention, not moving a single muscle, it was quite clear that Shining Armor was extremely anxious. “I wanted to ask you a question, Sir.”

The quill dropped to the table and Blueblood’s horn-light extinguished. “Ask away.”

Shining actually shifted uncomfortably this time. “Have I… have I done something to offend you, Sir?”

Not quite sure if he’d heard the question correctly, Blueblood canted his head. “Pardon?”

“Have I offended you in some way, Sir?”

The question made less sense to him more than the first time Blueblood had heard it. “Why do you ask?”

Beginning to pace, Shining studied the floor intently. “Sir, you’ve always included me in the briefing setups. When I saw that Amethyst knew most of the briefing details already, I thought—”

“Shining—” Blueblood held up a hoof. “I didn’t exclude you from anything. There wasn’t a setup session. Amethyst knew about the briefing material because I was going over it when she approached me about… a personal matter.”

“Oh.” Shining Armor managed to look suitably embarrassed.

“Shining?”

“Yes, Sir?”

“The stress of this whole thing is getting to you, isn't it?”

“No! I mean… no, Sir, it isn’t.”

Closing his eyes, Blueblood massaged his temples with his forehooves and sighed. “You been out of sorts since after the first mission, Shining—”

“Sir, I—”

“Stop,” Blueblood said, holding up a hoof. “I know you’ve been through a lot: the fall from the stagecoach; the two ambushes; Rainbow’s breakdown and when she came back hurt from the bog; Snails almost shot you in the head; you watched that poor colt get eaten; a cart fell on you; this last fight with the bandits where Rainbow broke down again—” Blueblood shook his head. “Whatever you’ve been doing to relieve stress isn’t enough; it’s showing in your performance and your judgement—what recreational activities have you been taking part in since we arrived?”

Shining looked at the floor, like a foal who’d just been caught with their hoof in the cookie jar. “None.”

“None?! None?!” Blueblood slammed his hooves down onto the table, denting it. “Damnit, Shining! You’re my personal guard, I can’t have you losing your Celestia-damned mind to burnout!” He backhooved a pile of parchment, spreading it across the table and onto the floor.

“Sir, I—”

“Even Amethyst, the workaholic organizer, is taking time to meditate and pray up in the abbey!” Blueblood poked a hoof at Shining’s chest. “You are now the second pony I have to send on this mission who isn’t one hundred percent ready—Damnit!”

“Who’s the—Amethyst? What—”

“No! You don’t get to worry about that,” Blueblood fumed. “You are going to be out of commission for a while after this mission.”

“But, Sir—” Shining stopped talking when he saw a look approaching murder in Blueblood’s remaining eye. “Yes, Sir.”

“We’ll talk about this when you get back,” Blueblood said, shaking his head. “If I had any other ponies, I’d be keeping you here for this one.” He suddenly looked very tired. “I can’t afford to lose you, Shining. Please, from here on out, take better care of yourself.”

“—Yes, Sir.”