The Ghost: Assorted Adventures

Fine particles of sand and dust danced to the thunderous beat of the screaming crowd around the two intruders. Food was thrown from the stands, wild animals gnashed from their chains, and a hulking figure emerged from the shadows of a private viewing box. Stoneheart clapped his hands together and beat them against his chest, releasing a bellowing warcry that was met by the returning call of his forces.

“Look, there.” The Ghost turned Steelhorn’s gaze to the viewing box, where a second figure remained in the shadows. The only trace of them was a metallic sheen, glistening in the firelight. His attention was caught by the returning yell of Poppy.

“Now class, the big boss has given us one rule, and one rule only. When someone comes onto our turf that doesn’t belong, what do we do?”

“TEAR THEM UP! TEAR THEM UP!”

“And that is exactly what we’re gonna do tonight! So put your hooves, claws, and hands together for tonight's entertainment. The terrifying, the meddling, the “makes you wanna pound his pretty face to mush” Ghost of Coltistrano!”

Venomous ‘boos’ ejected from the crowd. Stoneheart released a hardy laugh and reveled at the sight. His companion, however, remained still.

“I’m not liking this,” Steelhorn whispered.

“She called me out personally, how do you think I feel?” The Ghost kept his eyes trained on Stoneheart and the second figure. “The Maestro’s up there, which means we still have a chance to get the cube.”

“While they have a chance to rip us apart.”

“We’ll have to play along. Put on a show.”

“You serious?” Steelhorn shifted his irritated gaze to his friend.

“Unfortunately. If we can coax Stoneheart down here to challenge us, we’ll have a clear shot at the Maestro.”

“What about that crazy black storm thing she has?”

“I’ll improvise,” the Ghost made his words as convincing as he could. A metallic clunking came from the rusted gate before them as it rose. From within the dark passageway the duo could see the steam of hot breath and a single yellow eye piercing the shadows. It’s growling shook their insides.

“For our first round of death-dealing distraction, all the way from the depths of Griffonstone territory. It’s the scourge of Guto’s line, the descendant of decimation, the fearsome Arimaspi!”

The iron gate was torn down by massive grey hands. A towering ram emerged from the darkness, long and matted fur covering it’s entire form, save for two long and curled horns just above it’s yellow eye. Before the duo it stood, twice Steelhorn’s height, and slowly stamped towards them.

“I’ll get around its neck and bring it down,” the Ghost blurted out hurriedly. “Just be ready to smack its jaw.”

Steelhorn barely had time to nod in agreement before the arimaspi’s head came down upon him. He rolled just in time to avoid the thunderous impact upon the sand, sending dust skyward in the explosion of force. Steelhorn recovered and lunged at the beast. He gripped the ram’s curled horns, barely able to get his hands around them, and held tight as he wrestled the beast.

The Ghost rolled underneath the arimaspi and lashed out with his cloak. Small cuts broke out along the legs and abdomen of the creature, and a howl of pain echoed through his head. The arimaspi’s tail, however, whipped between his legs and struck the Ghost, sending him sliding along the sand. He watched as Steelhorn was flung into the air and onto the ground as the creature reared back and howled.

The crowd shared their enthusiasm. Their cheers nearly drowned out the roar of the arimaspi as it charged the duo, horns out front and ready to smash its prey. The Ghost charged back, sending his cloak to snag one of the horns and pull him onto the back of the beast. It reared up again, desperately clawing at itself to remove the Ghost, but another tendril grasped the second horn and his impromptu set of reins held the creature at bay.

“Get ready!” Steelhorn heard the Ghost’s command and braced himself beneath the arimaspi’s towering form.

The Ghost, lining himself between the horns, slingshot himself out between them. He used the force of the maneuver to help throw the creature off balance. The arimaspi toppled forward, it’s eye making contact with Steelhorn as the minotaur pushed into the falling face of the beast with all his strength. The mighty headbutt, horns and all, sent a violent crack through the air.

The arimaspi went limp, left only to breathe deeply as it slumped to the earth below. The crowd was silent. Not even murmuring rose from the lips of the bandits until the roaring laughter of their leader filled the arena. He flagged down some of his followers, commanding them to clear the field.

“What an incredibly dissatisfying outcome, folks,” Poppy announced. “But that’s just round one, and I think we’ve given them enough of a rest, dontcha think?”

More “boos”, accompanied by food and debris, were launched at the duo. Poppy giggled and continued to orate.

“Yeah, I think so, too. But now!” The torchlight of the area went dim as flames were snuffed out, one by one, and Poppy’s voice turned from raucous to grave. “Now the boss is pleased to introduce his latest addition to our little band. Once they were the night’s chosen. Elite warriors of the moon, exiled to the wastes for brutality only we could appreciate. If you thought the Ghost was king of the shadows then get ready for Princess Luna’s shame, the disgraced defenders of darkness, the Forsaken Battalion!”

The beating of leathery wings was all that could be heard. The rushing forms of darkness, illuminated scarcely by what little light remained, swarmed around the duo. Steelhorn felt a strike against his jaw, and the Ghost was pushed to the ground. Again and again the force of shadows would lash out at them and each strike landed like lightning.

“What are these guys?”

“They’re former Night Guard, Luna’s personal elite.” The Ghost swiped at the shifting shadows around him with his cloak. “They’re the best Equestria has to offer, but they’re not monsters.”

“Whatever they are, they’re formation is too tight,” Steelhorn returned, guarding with his arms and swiping the air with his sharp horns. “I can’t even see them.”

“I can,” the Ghost said, eyes glowing a faint white as the world around him turned monochrome. In his color-drained view he could spy the practiced form of an entire squadron of bat ponies. They soared with grace and struck with fury. Try as he might, the Ghost struggled to attack the crowd, moving as one against the shade of night.

“If you can see them, then we have to break their ranks,” Steelhorn said.

“Good plan, but how are we supposed to do that?”

“Same way we did last time.” The Ghost turned to his companion and was met with an outstretched hand. He smiled and climbed into it, rolling himself into a ball and offering the length of cloak to Steelhorn. The Ghost’s eyes followed the now visible cloud of ponies as they soared in their pattern around the arena. As they charged again he found his mark.

“Now!” Steelhorn spun the Ghost like a sling and launched him out in front. The improvised missile tore through the ranks of the bat ponies and sent them tumbling to the ground. The Ghost opened into a glide and, before the night guard could recover, joined the two-pronged assault between him and Steelhorn. Hooves were swung against skulls, horns bashed ponies aside, and the Ghost’s cloak dragged many of the Forsaken Battalion to their impending doom before the duo met in the middle of the carnage.

The lights returned to the arena, but the laughter of Stoneheart did not. The minotaur fumed from his place in the viewing box. Poppy looked back to him in worry, hesitant to continue her little game of make-believe announcer. From the arena, though, Steelhorn spoke up.

“So this is it, brother? You send your minions to kill us but you won’t even do it yourself. What happened to honorable combat, like father taught us?”

“Don’t speak of him,” Stoneheart roared, breaking his composure. “Father was an old and withering cow, hardly worth the dirt he walked on. I thought, if anyone, you would see how worthless his lessons were to us.”

“I see that you lack spirit,” Steelhorn said, beating his chest. “You may have influence over these drifters, but your search for luxury has dulled your horns.”

“How dare you!” Stoneheat stomped forward, but was held at bay by Poppy.

“Boss, he’s just rilin’ you up.” Even with her unique height, Poppy still struggled to restrain the towering minotaur. “It’s a trick!”

“I won’t allow my wimpy brother to insult my strength!”

“Then calm yourself and think,” the Maestro said from her shadowed chair. “If you wish to challenge them, take the cube and do it quickly.”

“Pewter-faced pebble, I don’t need your vile magics.”

“Your failure to take Appleloosa says otherwise.”

“Shut it, pony,” Stoneheart seethed. “A bargain with you is a bargain with Tirek himself. I am fed up with your tentacles choking the life from this operation. Poppy, announce to the gang their leader will end this show personally.”

“Yes, boss,” Poppy said somberly, watching as Stoneheard descended the stairs. “Alright, everyone, the boss has decided to give you a special treat tonight. It’s brother on brother in this final match to decide, once and for all, who is the toughest ‘taur in all of Appleloosa. So quit your grinnin’ and drop your linen, because it’s a battle to the death!”

In a single bound Stoneheart leaped from the viewing box and landed, hooves first, onto the sand below. He slowly stomped toward the duo, and Steelhorn stood to his full height in preparation for the battle.

“Are you sure you’re ready for this?” The Ghost asked.

“I’ve been ready since he first left home,” Steelhorn replied, unmoving. “Use this chance to get the cube back, I’ll keep him and the crowd busy.”

The Ghost stepped aside and allowed his friend to approach the fuming enemy before him. They met in the middle of the ring.

“You’re going to regret searching for me, brother,” Stoneheart’s last word came out with venom.

“I could never regret that. You’re my brother, and I want to bring you home.”

“Back to what? Weary old sages and bickering clans? Had I known escape would only cost me an eye, Steelhorn, I would’ve torn it out myself long ago.”

“Then at least stop this madness. I don’t know what the Maestro has promised you, but it’s not worth the lives of strangers. There is no honor in what that vile pony is doing.”

“At last we agree,” Stoneheart smiled. “But it drew you out, didn’t it? Now I can finally finish what you started when you openly betrayed me. When you chose the clan over me!”

“Are you forcing me to fight you?” Steelhorn asked calmly.

“Yes.” A strike landed on Steelhorn’s jaw, and once again cheering filled the arena.