Death.
Death beckons, tapping on the door. He could sense it. Feel its presence and it was nearby, close but far, as it kept its distance just for them. For this single meeting, this last possible talk, this final discussion.
A part of him denied this. Wouldn't believe it. As it was impossible, couldn't be, shouldn't be and all it would take was rest. One night of rest and everything would be better, as it always was. Tirek told himself this, told himself many things, and knew deep down the truth was in front of him even if he wasn't exactly willing to easily accept it.
The King was ill, and this time it had been worse.
Hooves moved silently, clicks and clacks happened but his ears did not hear them. He focused on the one who mattered the most, turned his head, saw his brother then his mother. Then his eyes refocused and he noted so much. Too much. A King laying on a bed whose skin looked pale, coat was matted with sweat, showed those first few greying hairs of age, the glossy look of pain in those eyes, how the scars of the past looked worse in this state-- he saw enough, averted his gaze and wished he had never seen anything at all.
Somehow the very sight of his father ill in bed seemed wrong. A tragedy of itself, an omen and reminder of the current state of their kind and their nation. As if a part of his very mind rejected the reality of this very scenario because of all it symbolized but try as he might with every blink- every wish for all of this to go away, the scene remained the same.
His father beckoned to him with but a simply gesture, and Tirek could do nothing but listen, as rare as such an act usually would have seem.
Kneeling slowly, He reached, fumbled, then locked fingers with Him. The grip was strong but at the same time weak. Could see it in the old oaf's eyes, those bright strong wine red eyes and could feel it in the shivers of his rough, trembling hand. He could hear the low whine that came from each breathe in His chest, and tried to recall every other time these Fits had been so bad and as he did he found so few. The Fits had always happened but he'd always bounced back. They came, they went, just as those times conflict came and went but as they stared, father looking up at the spitting image that was his son, Tirek found he recalled so few. So few times the Fits had been this bad.
His father had fought many wars, many battles of various kinds, all of it for Talia, their kingdom, their home. Maintaining what little was left of their proud--
And dying
--rich and luxurious history, but now it seemed the fight had made the King weary. And for the first time Tirek found himself forced to confront the thing he hated most of all in reality, the antithesis to his being that drove him to disobedience-- weakness, mortality.
He hated his mortality. Hated it on a level he would never truly understand but knew there was nothing he could do about- powerless to heal his father, powerless to help his home, powerless as--
And so he spoke the first words that came to mind as a distraction.
"...Father...", spoken as if those very words would give back the strength the King, his King, needed, knew they wouldn't so said nothing more. Neither cried, and for Tirek this was a comfort. The blur of tears would not flow because he would not let them, ears sagged, mouth frowned and as the King gave the hand a less than firm squeeze his father had smiled at him in that rare but special sort of way, the way that said 'I Am Proud Of You, Even If You (and sometimes the younger, but it is always you, Tirek) Do Drive Your Mother and I Mad'.
In a way the look was a testament of their entire relationship. He had been the one who favored the 'Path of The Fighter', a less than reputable aspect of their culture, while his father- the King had favored the way of Defender.
They had always clashed swords when it came to The Path, but that look. This moment. It were these moments that made him puff up with pride-- and like all the others he would cherish it. Cherish and take it as a sign of acknowledgement.
His ears perked, at the sound of two others weeping; one brother, another his mother and then chose to ignore them. Steeling his resolve, Tirek had made a vow that he would not break and so he did not look, only listened.
"My Troublesome Son finally listens to return home for supper and for once he does so, on time" there was a hint of laughter in that once strong voice as it drew attention from all in the Royal Room. "Chiron smiles on us, for this must surely be the imposter I had always hoped for."
Laughter fills the room, the guards smile, his brother laughs, his mother chuckles then sniffles but the merriment banishes the darkness and for a moment, mortality, weakness, this whole bleak scene seems like just a dream.
Till his father speaks yet again.
"Young one, come to my side" a tired father calls.
A kiss on the forehead, a whisper in the ear, and mother sends son off towards his father. Scorpan's wings flap, he lifts up, touches ground and then he swiftly moves to the right of his brother and grasps the waiting hand of his father.
"Dad" the younger does not hide his sadness. The tears flow, the nose drips despite every sniffle to contain, and if they had been in public the elder would have frowned and demanded the younger grow some tougher skin.
But Tirek was silent- said nothing as their father, the King, ran fingers through a growing mane of hair, lightly tugged on one greyish tan pointed ear and offered the same lively smile to the younger that had been given to the elder.
Without warning, when the father is done, the younger lifts the hand- kisses the back, squeezes it, leans in and kisses the forehead. "Mother wishes you get your rest." Scorpan gently chides.
There is a grumble before, "Your Mother, worries too much. I shall be well- I simply need--" he shivers, grits his teeth and feels the reassuring squeeze of two caring sons in both hands keep him level as the pain passes "--a...moment" he huffs, breathes in deeply then exhales slowly, "with my children before I take my medicine and rest before the morn's banquet."
"Father", the elder says with a gentleness so rarely heard.
"Tirek" the voice becomes firm, a familiar solidness, one of no questioning, "I am fine. Let me speak, all of you."
The agreement is made on yield of silence but the rebuttal waits to strike again.
"I have heard you still study with Sendak the Elder" came the patient statement.
"I do" comes the cautious response.
"The Sendaks" name said with distaste "are just as troublesome as you my Heir. There was" he paused, closed eyes to let the pain pass then continued "...a reason I warned you of seeking that one's council." Hints of old frustration slipping in, "You recall--"
"Your warnings?" comes the familiar reply. Tirek offered an agitated sigh. "Quite clearly" he replied dryly. "If the old fool sticks his nose into the affairs between the Princess' citizens again in anyway that will cause trouble between our nations I am to never seek his counsel."
"And he is to be punished." Father reminded son, the most important reminder of all.
Son rolled eyes, younger merely wiped a tear away with represssed mirth.
"Is this really what you desired we discuss, Father?" Tirek rose, releasing his father's hand, eyes narrowing.
The King, sighed. "My child, sit."
"Father", the anger was subtle but not undetectable " if this is--"
"Tirek..." a wince as position shifted "...sit..." came the firm voice.
And so he did.
"I summoned you not to inquire of your lessons with that" a pause "...warlock, I called to you for a minor request. A promise. From the both of you, underwitness of our Guard, Queen, Sun and by the distant ears of Tirrean- this promise is one I must hear from you two alone."
"...Promise?"
"Dad?"
"Tirek", deep dark mulberry eyes stared up to the elder, "do you love your brother?"
There was a pause, confusion, then silence.
"...Why ask such a--"
"Answer your Father, son" came the voice of a patient mother.
"But--"
"Tirek" came the voice of an impatient mother.
"..." a glance, "yes. A silly question but of course. I trust him. Even if it came down to it no matter how he may seem, with my life."
"Scorpan?"
"I always will love my brother. Even if he makes it hard sometimes or when he's being particularly stubborn."
Silence. Eyes stared. Peered into their eyes, then Vorak chuckled, "Good..." came the King's satisfied sigh. "That is all I needed to hear." One deep breath, then a sigh of relief. "Then you will promise me, as tomorrow's gift to your father- that you as my only children, you will always stay together. For me, for your mother, for this kingdom, and for these lands. Promise me this. Promise me you will watch over this land should anything happen, that you will fight to your best to preserve it and all that comes with it when the time comes."
Tirek looked at Scorpan, the two shared a look of confusion that shifted into one of meager understanding, and then nodded in unison.
"I swear by our blood."
"And Scorpan" the eyes turned to the younger, "promise me...you'll watch out for him? You know how he can be better than us."
Scorpan offered a sniff then a smile, "Promise guaranteed."
Vorak smiled, gave the hands a squeeze then released his boys. "You are...dismissed..." the King waved his hand, "go on. Go have supper."
"Father?"
Nervous Scorpan leaned closer. Ears lifting to pick up the sign of a steady heart beat.
"I am fine" he winced, waved it off with a hand, waved them off and signed two guards to take them out the door as Queen moved in. "Go eat boys. you'll need your rest for the banquet on the morrow. Off with you now." The king waved.
He waved and waved, made assurances he was fine. Tirek turned back, watched mother sit with father- several guards moved in to escort them, then the door closed- and that was the end.
The crown, the title, the power was his. Father passed, mother gone, taken by stress and weakened by grief and worry. Two brothers were now all that remained of the royal family.
Hooves clicked, wings flapped. They stood on a balcony- the one with the greatest view of what was theirs.
The elder saw what they inherited and asked the younger with a calm yet faint derisive "Look out and what do you see?" He waited and found no reply and thus said "Barren land for miles and miles. Dust and sand, with dirt cracked land. What food we manage to grow spoils quickly, barely lasting so much as two Moons. This is what was given to us Scorpan. We have wealth in mineral, metals rich in iron, copper, bronze, titanium, iridium and more but it is worthless when our own armor would kill us in Sun without enchantments refreshed on a draining basis."
Scorpan frowned. "You exaggerate as always brother."
"Do I?" came the narrowed eye challenge. "How is it a nation once known for our magical prowess, suffers so in the hands of this accursed dry spell? We have pegasi and dragons that draw moisture from the far west, going as far to rely on the Princesses of Equestria to fill our gallons with water to grow crops, our bipedal friends in the eastern territories do what little they can also and still it is not enough."
To which the Younger replied- "it never has been." His ears splayed and tail sagged as he admitted the truth. "Even dad struggled after Grandmother lost the Great Channel to The Drought. And it only gets worse every Moon..."
"And continues to do so every year" the new Lord finished with eyes hardening, ears perking, nostrils flaring.
"'Vritra's Drought will end one day' father had said" reciting words from a King of the past. "His father had said the same thing, and his father had said it before him, as our ancestors had believed it to be a simple problem to overcome long before them. And now...now we rely on others to get by."
"A nation once full of life" Scorpan recalled the tales of their mother morosely. "Now full of nothing but sand, dust and struggling to continue with what we have. It really is strange how time changes so much. The art of our past compared to the look of today is almost like looking at two different realms. Its as if the desserts of the east swallowed a majority of the country...it is...sad."
"It is terrifying." Tirek continued.
"And it may mean our extinction" voiced the elder of the thoughts of the younger.
"We cannot rely on others to save us from our problems, Scorpan." The centaur said after moments of shared silence. He turned and entered the Royal Chambers- the King's, now his, royal chambers. "Recently, I hear word the Sisters are locked in political conflict. They struggle now internally with some of the nobles of their own kingdom, those that feel they deserve more than what they have already been allowed to keep." He sniffed and muttered "the impudent fools." Continuing with, "Our alliance with the Sisters and those of Equestria's near territories goes back centuries- only strengthened due to Father's interests but how long can we rely on our allies to be our lifeline, brother?" Mouth opening to say more, Tirek closed it, found he could say nothing so ran a hand through his black goatee, lost in thought.
"We need an answer to this problem" came Scorpan's gentle whisper. "Lest things only become worse" as the presence of a harsh dry wind of a perpetual summer breeze blew by.
"And I believe" the elder now grinned, "I have found one." He moved down the chambers, opened the door- and looked at his brother as he made to leave. "Follow me Scorpan. I have something to show you."
And the younger did.
It was called Vritra's Drought.
It was the name given to the season where summer was at its worst, where Sun threatened to wither all crops, chase away all water, and roast all of the living into ash who dared not shield themselves from the scald that was light.
Centuria suffered the worst of the Drought while its neighboring countries got off scot free with a temporary flux of warm weather.
Legend has it the reason the warm season could become so bad (and only grow worse as time went on in Centuria alone) was possibly because of a curse. It had been silly, at least Tirek thought the idea was on some level, to which Scorpan had pointed out as they walked that there may be a point. Many theories had floated around over the centuries as to why Centuria suffered from what became known as Vritra's Drought or simply The Drought. Discord's flippant handling of the celestial bodies had been a proposed reason, the fools of old tales believing they could wrestle the Sun and Moon away from the Sisters if they worked the right magic with the right artifact. There had also been attempts in the past to blame the noble houses in charge of Day and Night, then later on the Sisters. Near conflicts of mostly the political kind had kindled but were always being defused by wiser and more intelligent figures stepping in before things truly got ugly.
After all, wise individuals had pointed out publicly, if your enemy was truly the only one that could raise Sun and Moon with just a group of 20 or less Sapients (which is believed -excluding one Star Swirl the Wise and the Royal Sisters- any Unicorn nobles that claimed they were the sole bearers of the universe were flat out liars), then there was really nothing stopping them from turning you and your entire continent to ash at the slightest offense, or say if they really wanted to they wouldn't waste the energy spending centuries on a long term plan that could be easily done on a very short term level.
It had been a sound argument- one that left everyone satisfied. At least till other arguments started on the credit of whether Unicorns raising of Sun and Moon was truly warranted. To which opposing parties that denied those 'blasphemous theories' were even more satisfied to return home saying they had won that argument.
The Drought (and details to its origin) were always shakey. The easiest link brought the concept of a curse. This curse was often connected to a particular dragoness named Vritra, the dragon of the west that brought a swarm of her kin to raid Centuria's lands hundreds of years ago. Not for its vast riches ironically, but rather the Centaurs vast magical knowledge and the Gargoyles vast skills.
Legend had it Vritra's curse had been cast from fury at being denied the Libraries of Signi and upon being soundly defeated and chased away the dragoness had spat into the dirt and screamed out a curse as she fled.
"Sounds like one of Mother's stories", Tirek had said as they moved through whirling halls of stone and descended echoing staircases.
"It gets worse." Scorpan had replied.
The curse was said to have been tied to Vritra's very hatred and rage. Some of those that had followed her ended up betraying and defecting to the aid of Centuria when promised they would be granted something actually worth their effort; gems and regions of territory as their own. Dragons weren't uncommon in Talia, nor were they rare in Centuria. The nation was multispecie oriented with the only ones mainly not found often were unicorns. Those fights had seen many participants and this curse was said to only grow worse, every summer, every year, for every dragon Vritra lost and every one of her allies that were slewn.
"That...sounds disturbingly sensible."
Scorpan had shrugged with a frown. His brother was right. It was.
The pause did not help.
"What did you want to show me?" Scorpan decided as a change of topic.
Brightening, Tirek pusned the door open and so they entered. They were in the Palermo's Archives and as Scorpan shut the door, magical lights hummed to life. The ceilings rained white light on the entire room, a circular foyer of plain grey stone with painted markings of art on every other step across the ground. At the end of its northmost wall stairs ascended up to the higher levels that were surrounded by shelves.
Lights flicked on under shelves to illuminate various sections and different subject categories as the brothers passed, centuries of work recovered over the years and salvaged as best as possible ebbed on by as they moved. The two entered a hall at the center, walked down it and took a left.
"Elder-" came the nervous call.
"Younger?" came the calm reply.
"W-We shouldn't be here." Scorpan urged with a tug of his older brother's robe. "Dad would be--"
"Father isn't here" came the curt reply.
Hooves and steps stopped altogether.
"...I...I apologize, Scorpan. Forgive me."
"It's" he cleared his throat, "it's okay."
"Please, just follow me. I understand we are entering the Forbidden Section but listen to what I have to say first before you say no. At least do your king this service my adviser."
There was no response, Tirek turned to see a reluctant nod. Reached out and touched the cheek of a brother who was almost now his own height and smiled. "Let us go."
And so they went.
The Drain.
It was an art, not a weapon. A form of study, not an abuse of power. The Drain was the gift all Centaur and even some Gargoyles could learn. It was the ability to draw out mana, to pull magical energy out of the individual and empty one's thauma reserves in one sitting harmlessly allowing for the magic to be contained in a specialized vial or container. When done right, the subject would feel nothing except sleepy. The Centaurs were the original creators of this art. The founders of this form of magic. It was what made the ancient Alicorns respect and revere them as no other specie in all of Terrae had ever managed to perform the same feat or recreate the method.
It was the symbol that defined Centaurs (and to a degree Gargoyles) in their magic capability. There were books on it, basic lessons that talked about the surface details, but that was all one would find in these archives. The scroll the brothers now hovered over discussed the notes of its expanded form in limited and faded ink.
"Brother- this is--"
"What I have been learning from Sendak for the past nine years, Scorpan. And I found this note of his the day before he went missing in his lab."
"You stole it?!" an accusation.
"I" Tirek patiently countered, "prefer the word 'claimed', especially since he never returned from his trip to Equestria."
"Tirek!"
"Ugh, don't do this Scorpan- don't be like them, now! I have yet to even explain my reasons!"
A tired sigh was soon followed by a groan of protest. "Oh fine! What is this grand idea of yours?"
"About time you asked." He smirked while a stink eye was sent his way then shrugged it off. "Look I've been trying to analyze these notes for years. And I realised something while you were telling that story--"
"A Legend" came the quick and polite correction.
"Whatever", came the immediate dismissal. " The Drain granted our ancestors the ability to take magic. You and I as well as any citizen of Centuria knows, in theory- it could also manipulate magic in its purest, most raw and unstable form. No mediums, no channeling, no control just raw energy that they studied and analyzed. Grandfather once said it could be used by the most skilled Drainers in defense in battle to weaken one's opponent or at most gain the upper hand--"
Nervously, "I don't believe I like where this is headed--"
"--that it was possible to limit The Drain to specific forms of magic, something that we might just be able to capitalize on." The Centaur excitedly concluded.
"Yet", the younger interjected, "Grandfather also said: 'magic siphoned could not be used by a Drain'. He stressed that multiple times. I fail to see how this helps us. The Drain allowed for magic to only be studied or observed. It had to be contained, Tirek, immediately if I might need to remind you, or else it would return to its owner in seconds and if done wrong..." Scorpan winced at the memory of those hurried and rather worrisome explanations.
"Believe me, I know." Then as if on a second thought Tirek added "Wait...". Surpise could be heard in the elder's voice. "You actually were listening? You never liked his war stories!"
"It was still history!" said the younger sulkingly. "I may not enjoy gore as much as you but I did enjoy the lessons. Besides we have a duty to record every fact of the past."
Eyes rolled and a younger smacked his elder's shoulder. "As I was saying" Tirek continued. "These notes reminded me of Grandfather's words and I did some research- and found this." A hand slapped a opening scroll down and smoothed the parchment out.
"...it is a...map?"
Nodding with excitement "of?"
"Centuria?"
"Correct!" came the pound of hand on desk. "Sendak was a tight lipped old thief and he stole this from his father. Fool told me so himself. We know that family always had their skeletons but I digress. This map, it is the answer to our problems."
"I...how? I don't understand" came the now confused reply.
"Scorpan!" Tirek grabbed his brother and shook him by the shoulders. "Think! Think brother!" he pulled him into a one-sided shoulder to shoulder squeeze. "That map contains the whereabouts of missing entrees; books, scrolls, journals! What does that mean for us?"
Eyes squinted, stared, then bright greyish purple eyes widened. "The Drain Theorem."
A devilish grin crossed the elder's features. "Yes" hissed the answer. Laughter soon followed. "Brother- with this we might be able to piece together clues. The map has more than just The Theorem. It has other notes, bits and pieces of information that are marked and briefly discussed in this", he lifted a binded old withered journal "key to our poblems! The clues we may need to solving just what is wrong with our land. There is information in here that spoke of tombs that approached the concept of figuring out the Drought, we can use this map as our guide!"
"Tirek" nervous hands wrung together. "I--I don't know about this. If it were this simple, surely father and those before us would have-- a-and there are reasons Grandfather said the Drain was better left never refound- what if...what if the legends are true?"
The smile faded, went sour and Tirek turned and circled away. Stopping and leaning over the map he stared at it for several minutes, saying nothing then scowled. "Bah! Nonsense" he said in midst contemplation. "The legends of madness from those that went searching for the Theorem are child's tales. Stories meant to scare us! Our ancestors were not cruel or fools, Scorpan. This is our history! It is owed to us and I have nothing to fear!"
The younger leaped at the shout then found bright yellow eyes stare into his. "We can do this! Help me, brother. We can solve this before it becomes a bigger problem. Do the thing no one before us has ever done. You and I, together! A king and his advisor! The gamble of our lives that brings Talia and our home glory!"
Eyes glanced up at the wild smile then looked to the map, looked at the notes, looked back to the exuberant face. Thoughts of what things might be like a year from now, two years or three flowed into the young Gargoyle's mind-- his heart skipped a beat and jumped to his throat-- if Tirek got ill, if both of them were ill. They had no chosen successors. No one to take the lead... The kingdom would fall apart, still reeling from the death of a queen who passed not long after its previous King. But...but if they found the answer to all their problems. They wouldn't have to worry. Their parents could finally rest, they could focus on life- yes. Yes.
"Okay..." Scorpan said quietly, then smiled. A nervous smile. "Yes, let's do it."
The elder grinned. The younger's smile widened. They clapsed hands in shared joy and so they began planning.
Five years. That's how long it'd taken to gather the most important pieces, with still more lost. Five long years and there had been interruptions to make things even longer. Internal conflict, citizenry unrest. Vorak watched over them, the search could have lasted longer.
They were lucky to still have the kingdom at all.
Hunched over his study, Tirek skimmed over notes. Squinted by light, shuffled old texts this way and that. Finally he took a deep breath. Moved away from the table, stared out the window and watched cracked land and open sunny skies.
Spent minutes watching his citizens roam through streets, some carrying food to be stored and preserved, others moving with the Guard to deliver water from place to place. Minutes went, then Tirek turned back to his desk.
He placed both hands on the table, drummed his fingers and then let out a long breathe of air.
Finally he nodded his head in acceptance.
Told himself it was enough. Then--
"NRAGH!" papers took to air, flipped, drifted, as empty glasses, wine bottles, and the wood of a heavy table creaked then crashed into the ground with a thud and shattering echoed all around.
"USELESS!" The Lord screamed in growing rage. "All of it is USELESS!" he swung an arm and knocked over a ceramic vase. It fell, cracked, and then was picked in the brilliant yellow and orange glow of magic and was hurled just outside the threshold of a nearby open window. Cracked again, and in his frustration at the enchantments Tirek pointed a single index finger, lifted the vase and smashed it again and again and again and again--
"Stupid useless, insignificant babble! Nothing but useless theories! Concepts! Failed attempts! What good is this? What was the point of all that time?! AGH!" Tirek shouted, yelled, the commotion reaching the Hall of Prestige and his guards that stood just outside the Room Of Authority, closed their eyes. Said nothing and allowed their king his moment of fury.
Grabbing, lifting, flipping- the table landed with a thunk. And then the commotion died.
The room went silent, as papers floated, and heavy breathing sounded.
For the second time in his life, another revelation came at an unwanted time.
He was powerless. Mortal. And should he die, he was uncertain the kingdom would survive.
The sound of his labored breathing filled the air. Then his ears lifted just a little as he heard wings flap and shoes clack on stone floor.
"Tirek", the gentle hand pressed and squeezed on the shoulder. The squeeze of brotherly love, the presence meant for family.
"I..." he forced away the strange tightness in his throat. "I apologize...I am...tired" the word was spat and given the honor of having a dull nod. "Yes", he told himself "rest...brother. I need rest...Escort me, if you would."
He noted the tone was an order, but smiled anyway. "Always brother." An affectionate pat. "Always."
Slim arms helped him, and he was guided away, carefully made to cross the hidden pieces of broken glass, and the Room of Authority's gate was opened once more.
"You made quite the mess." Came the familiar playful chide.
There was no response, no look of annoyance, no snide yet amused remark- not even a sad smile. There was silence. And then there were only a few words.
"Perhaps tomorrow..." Tirek muttered "we will try something else..." came the tired reply.
Scorpan nodded and said the only thing he could.
"Yes, My Lord."
"The Drain is our only answer, Scorpan." Said the older brother.
"It would appear that sadly seems to be", said the younger.
A pause in the motions, a frown graced his features. "I know you do not like this idea brother. You understand however that with our findings running short and the information we have found saying nothing solid on how to find the source of the Drought- we have very few options."
"We can still continue searching." Scorpan offered as a try.
The Elder shook his head. "No. We have wasted enough time. We need answers and we need them now."
"So I have been thinking" the centaur said as he moved to his side of the table and looked across the guards gathered among them, "that we perform a test. It will require a volunteer."
"My Liege?" came the voice of one female gargoyle clad in silver hue armor.
"The Drain allowed us to study magic. According to King Tirrean, our Grandfather, the Drain could also be used in combat. We have all heard the stories, few have seen it in display, the legends have hundreds of stories like that. Which made me wonder", the yellow eyes looked at his younger brother. "About Vritra's Drought."
The air of confusion was shared among them all. "The Drought?" cautiously came the voice of an officer.
"The Legend, or our possible truth" said the now grinning king.
"I've been thinking about the Drain and how it can be used to solve the clue to this Drought that threatens our lands and ours alone. I have been working on this theory in private, but now I make it public to you all alone as you are my most trusted.
"The Drain can only be used on living beings. Using it on anything else according to legend has never been possible. Theory says our ancestors could manipulate magic itself with it. I have no doubt the ones that mention the Drain working on the non-living are false. If it were true there's no doubt in my mind we would have had this problem solved eons ago. So..." he paused thoughtfully.
"What if...I could find a way to use the Drain...to alter the effects of our nation or find a way to use it to remove our problem."
The silence fell before the question: "How?"
"The Drought is affected by the Sun. We know the Princesses have no power in its effect. Princess Celestia has tried, my father, our grandfather, other kingdoms of the past tried- all of them fruitless. Among the notes there were past attempts at diminishing it with little success. By absorbing enough magic to make myself strong enough or the finding a blend of the right kind, perhaps I could locate the source. Find the source, discover a cure." The answer had come simply, but seemed almost mad.
Stunned silence equaled building disbelief. "My Liege...no one among us here has ever absorbed magic by using the Drain. All of us here in this room have practiced it. Most of us" came Dauna's pause and glance, "can redirect the magic in question, I can myself certainly but to...to do what you are saying-- We-- we don't know if it is even possible. Legends say it was- but we have never seen."
To which the King smiled in a way that said it before he even had to. "I have."
Stunned silence. Again, this time from Scorpan who rose. "How?"
"Sendak." Came the immediate response.
And the stunned silence was enough to send shivers. "S-Sendak?"
"He once demonstrated an experiment of his" Tirek explained then shrugged. "It wasn't successful as he ended up regurgitating the magic he had taken but he did draw it into himself and briefly gained some strength from doing so."
The silence was thick enough to cut. No one said anything. The idea was memorizing. Stunning even. Questions began to form, who had been the subject. why had Sendak the Elder never spoken of the feat for it to be revealed now? Tirek waited for some sort of response, found his audience lacking and waiting for him to say more.
Annoyed he moved on. "I still require a volunteer."
"I will." All eyes turned, "Dauna, Captain of the East Fleet, volunteers."
Tirek nodded. "Scorpan? My advisor, your words?"
He waited.
Then he heard "I think you might be the only one serious enough to attempt it." A hesitant nod. "I will be there."
It was all he needed to hear
"Good" the Elder smiled. "Dismissed."
"Ready?"
"You ask this every time we do this. Yes, yes I am ready Scorpan."
"And Captain?" he noticed her glance. "You are feeling better?"
"Of course my Prince. Simple rest no more but an hour usually fixes everything."
Scorpan nodded, then sighed. "Then we will continue. Tirek, if you would."
Deep breathe in, deep breathe out, eyes closed, Tirek's horns glowed and he felt a strange yet familiar pulse of energy. It flowed into the body, painted a picture in his mind's eye. He could feel the presence of not one but three and it circulated like blood, and shifted to the muscles when it was needed. The knowledge of their magic did not enter his mind but the nature of what it was became clear to him quickly.
Racial magic, the magic of the Gargoyles.
Gargoyles had strength, impressive recovery, stamina and some had the unique ability to shift from flesh to impenetrable stone. The magic that flowed within Dauna, was one unique to her kind. All Tirek had to do was tap it. Tap into it and draw it out.
He nodded, sensed her relax, then after a few seconds- began the experiment.
Bull like horns grew brighter. Dauna froze, the gargoyle's body tensed, muscles went taut- and then she felt a strange feeling in the back of her throat.
"Hrk!" She felt her knees buckle, she stumbled to stay upright as a wave of nausea hit her, dizziness mixed with confusion at the same time.
Tirek opened his mouth, the glow brightened even more and then sparks of light flew from his horns. He willed the energy to come up, come out, and then breathed in deeply.
A different kind of breathing, one taking, not giving.
"Are you alright?" Scorpan asked with concern. He loomed over above studying the display with careful caution. The lack of response was concerning- but he withheld action till he saw more reason not to.
"Come to me", Tirek's voice came in a strange yet loud whisper. He breathed in, felt resistance, breathed in, felt a tug, then drew in deeper and--
Light. It was brilliant green light that came from the mouth, eyes, and nose. It flowed out in a weak trickle towards Tirek- going back then pulling in, like a tug of war where Dauna was losing.
"Tirek" came the breathless call, concern flooding him. "Tirek!"
But neither could hear him. They were in a trance of their own. The Drain had an effect on the implementor just as much as it did on the subject. Focus, concentration, it was key. Interruption meant dangerous feedback, the effects ranging from sudden nausea to bloody nose, sore muscles and possibly even worse.
Tirek breathed in, never once having breathed out and felt the first touch of energy flood into his being. He felt strength, felt revived, felt the stress melt away. It was...rejuvenating.
It was power.
Lost in the feeling he opened his eyes, saw the expression of fear in one-- immediately lost his focus and let go of his hold.
Energy went shooting back into the captain then the two collapsed. One weak, the other feeling feedback from the cancellation.
Scorpan moved quickly, hesitated. Looked to his brother, then looked to the captain. He moved and raised his brother to his hooves- then once Tirek was steady, quickly aided the Captain who was still laying on the ground and just now getting her bearings.
"S-Scorpan."
The two stopped, looked up at the King who leaned against the wall and the rails of a staircase that led out of the underground chambers.
"I...I think I did it." He stammered, sweating, shaking, grinning. A hind leg kicked from a muscle twitch but Tirek fought for his balance.
Scorpan felt a brief moment of excitement, shared with the captain. Then looked into his brother's eyes once more.
"I think I've found the answer!"
And saw something he did not recognize in those eyes.
Step out into the crowd and see them. Hundreds gathered. All of them waiting, all of them loyal, all of them volunteers, all of them his subjects, all of them willing.
Moons had passed and he now did it easily. Could perform the Drain without requiring that unmoving focus. Told himself he could do it in his sleep if he wanted.
"My subjects" boomed the voice, the voice of a King across a land of dust, sand, and very cracked land. "I thank each and every one of you. Ten thousand offer themselves in this experiment- and worry not- once successful I will return to you what you have so graciously offered to me."
They cheered. Of course they cheered. He was their King. Their Fighter of evils. Their Warrior against the Drought.
To his left he looked at his brother, saw him smile, turned to the guards on another balcony, saw his most trusted captain- watched her nod and the soldiers around her salute.
Tirek smiled- said two words: "Thank you."
Then closed his eyes.
Took a deep exhale out. Then breathed in.
Several mouths reflexively opened as a pressure came up from the throat and exited in the form of energy. A thousand more joined them and the Arid Field was bathed in various hues of light.
Blues, greens, reds, yellows. Various colors all flowing out of various bodies and all flowing in one direction. He breathed in, the breathe of taking, taking their magic, adding to his reserves. Doubling and tripling, quadrupling, and more.
He could feel it. He could feel them- they had become a part of him, become a part of his power. Granting him the stamina of a youthful deer, the swiftness of a monkey, the recovery of a gargoyle, the perception of a pegasus--
I feel alive
--he felt the power. Stress melted away, muscles collapsed, rebuilt, grew, becoming firmer, tougher, stronger. The sky reached down or maybe he had grown taller. Each and every kind of magic. Both the innate and the outer, could sense the different kinds of different magics entering his body. Becoming a part of him, stripping away his concerns, eating away the thoughts that left him restless in the night.
This was the Drain at its strongest. Manipulating magic as one drew it in
He had done it.
He was invincible.
I am eternal!
He breathed in, sensed they had little left to offer and finally made himself stop.
Tirek opened his eyes- and watched hundreds fall, seeing them but not truly seeing them. He turned, looked at the mirror at the entrance and saw someone else. The stress was gone, his eyes glowed with youthful energy, felt energy he had lost come rushing back. Felt like he could charge into Minos and claim the whole land as his own.
He grinned, flexed a muscle, flexed the other- felt unbeatable- felt he could ditch this worthless tainted scrap of land and rule the world. That he could crush any that opposed him, grind them into paste with his own front hoof- make the world kneel before him as he overcame mortality with sheer force of will. And so he laughed- a deep hearty laugh, one he and Scorpan hadn't shared in years and then he heard a voice, a weak voice admist his great laughter-- instantly felt anger overcome him.
"Who dares-- "
He looked down, and knew just like with father that he should have never looked at all at the younger. Saw the weakness in his brother's eyes- weakness that reminded him of a king in bed- on the edge of death. A ghost of an image came to him and it was not his brother lying there but his own mother- begging him, pleading he take care of his brother and those that were being left on the realm of living.
Which was when the first moan reached his ears. One then two then three then four, hundreds and hundreds, more and more.
A cold sweat hit him, he slowly turned to look at his people, the greying pelts, the falling patches of hair from coats, the trembling-- Oh Stars the trembling-- the exhausted expressions and haunted looks in their eyes--
He saw it all- felt invincible, felt alive again --but their eyes, their misery-- but he was more alive than he had been in what felt like eons. Didn't want to give it back, not now, too soon.
And that was when he told himself he had to give it up. Had to give back what he had promised them. Had to do it because a part of him remembered the promise. The gamble. The glory that was so close.
Refused to believe he couldn't give it back.
Then forced himself to give it all back.
Energy flooded out of him, flowed back into its rightful owners. He watched it all leave, the strength, the surplus of energy, the bags under his eyes returned, as all his subjects were restored and when it was over there was silence.
He felt ashamed. Felt cheated. Felt angry and bitter.
Looked out at the crowd- heard one voice scream "The Drought will end! Our king has done it!"
Then watched as they cheered. Hooves stomping, hands clapping, dragons shooting fire into the air.
And that's when he decided- he knew what he had to do.
He was not sure he heard that right. Hoped he was not hearing it right.
"War?"
Tirek nodded. The castle was filled with the sound of work that needed to be done.
"We are moving to support the Princesses."
The fears receeded, a rush of relief came that he would not fully understand till later. "Oh...I see. When you said we would be preparing for battle Moons ago- I had thought perhaps...well, I see there is no trouble on our borders."
Tirek chuckled. "Not yet, and hopefully there never will be. Help me prepare will you?"
"Of course Elder, always."
He charged. Pegasi took to the skies- Wonderbolts took to the air- the Brigade of Thunder, his own mix of Pegasi and Gargoyle soared out to support them.
Galloping off into the field, spells were fired. Blasts of telekinetic energy condensed into a single ball of a hundred Lunar forces went soaring past him, one got too close- he opened his mouth- breathed in as his horns glowed and- schwoop- he felt alive.
One hearty, bloodthirsty laugh, a hundred challenging screams.
The Unicorns of the House of Ire were fearsome, powerful casters and their support was nothing to be laughed at. They had been one of the frontliners in the Griffon Wars, but now felt their entitlement to have 'servants' was being impeached. That the privileges the Unicorn Houses possessed during Platinum's bloodline had been weakened over the centuries and like the other nobles with them felt it was time to remind the Princesses the real reason why Equestria stood.
Not because of two immortal rulers, but because of the Houses they had given themselves over to. The allies they needed when they took the throne and now were putting down.
Fools. Thats all they were to the King. Fools.
Try to teleport and he came with you. Grabbed by the throat he lifted and Drained. Dropped one, went after the others who raised shields to defend against him and he slammed into them with the force of a thousand buffalos.
The feedback caused nosebleeds- sparks to fly, teeth grit in pain from the backlask.
And Tirek laughed.
Laughed because he knew this was power he would not have to give back.
The pegasi of the Greycloud clan divided to support their allies.
Pegasi disarray had also stirred since Hurricane had forced the unification of the Sky Clans under Platinum then the Sisters and now, allied among the nobles- they to rebelled.
Hooves came down and impacted flesh, Tirek was pelted, felt a gout of fire scatter them, watched his own throw shields over him.
He laughed. The laugh of encroaching madness and the excitement of battle.
Then he charged. And took joy in what he would take back home.
They were fools. How could they not see it? How could they be so selfish?
How could they refuse him after he helped them? Force him to drag an army of his own back out to threaten them and now pushed him to use the Drain on his own to take what little he would need.
"The Elements, Princess! With it I will end this!"
The response was silence.
Two rulers and an army stood on one-side.
One brother and his armies stood on the other.
"Brother!"
He turned and looked down. When had Scorpan become so puny? So tiny? So small?
A thousand thoughts surged through his mind but the one that drove him the most was but a single word: power.
The solution to his mortality.
The answer to ending their problems.
He needed more. Wanted more. Had the means to get more.
Simple magic from one battle would not end the Drought. He had tried, it had failed. He needed more. Something stronger. Something greater.
He turned away and looked at those that would dare defy him, his home dying, his people struggling, his species and subjects on the very last leg of their existence.
"No more." Came the rumble of a voice no longer known to the younger. "This ends on this Moon. Or it will never end at all."
He made his choice. "Scorpan" he turned, took a step out and the very ground shook at his command. "Tell my soldiers to fall back. Their offering is enough and they will not need to concern themselves. If the Princesses will not help us, then I will make them see that immortality does not mean wisdom."
Elder charged.
Younger called.
He made his choice. And went all in.
Stone skin turned back to flesh and the heat melted off as he returned to his natural state.
Tirek rose from the crater and looked to the skies. Two shadows circled him in the air, three stones following each one.
"Elder..."
He turned, noticed they were the same height, blinked the alertness and confusion from his eyes
Turned and said hastily, "Younger?"
"Please", came the gentle plea as the attention faded and ears rose. "Please...stop. I have talked to the princesses- there is still hope for us. Another solution might still be available."
The face darkened. Eyes looked skyward, could not look into the impeding view that was the Sun.
"No...they will not listen. They believe their support is enough but water and food will last us so long, Scorpan. We have enemies of our own. Our people die while we 'hope for the best'. Our kingdom will crumble if either of us fall. I told you. We need answers, we need them now and this is the only way."
Calmly,"...surely, surely there is another way. If you--"
"Enough! You will listen to your King! Leave! If you have not come to support then leave!"
Head bowed low. "I understand...my King."
He made his choice. Found he had lost. Watched Tirek turn.
That's when he moved.
Elder felt the pierce before he could react.
He fell, collapsed, tried to stand, found the pain in his hindlegs flare, felt a blow on his side that knocked the wind out, turned wide eyes over to the shadow of a brother looming above as ground was peppered with tears from distancing eyes.
In that moment there was one thing on Tirek's mind.
Power.
He told himself many things and in his blindness told himself 'Envy had led to betrayal.'
In the distance a father's words echoed in his ear then were drowned out by an emotion. Felt rage consume him as he broke his promise and opened his mouth to pull out--
Light.
White light overwhelmed him.
It was pain. It was agony.
He screamed, flailing on the ground, cursing the younger, cursing them all but not an ounce of magic was summoned in a single word- found himself blinded, couldn't do a thing to stop it or retaliate as the white light would not let him. Opened his mouth and felt it aching, nothing going in, no energy, no strength just soreness and aching.
It stripped away his all, the magic, the strength, the power, taken away.
And then he was gone.
They were two.
And now there was one.
