Chapter 10- The Hunt is On

Woe to you, oh earth and sea
for the devil sends the beast with wrath
because he knows the time is short

Iron Maiden- Number of the Beast

Dawn broke upon the world, spreading its rosy fingertips over land, sea, and shore. In time, it reached even the lost and lonely places of the world, bathing a solitary mountain in light. The peak was still and peaceful but for the one raven-black speck descending its northern face.

Something that looked like a unicorn struggled his way down the mountainside. His hooves and legs were red and sticky with blood, and every step was taken in the unsteady manner of a foal still learning to walk. Frustration was plain on his face.

Setting his legs, he took another cautious step, but the loose soil shifted beneath the weight of his hoof. His leg was swept out from under him; he toppled forwards and began to slide. Rocks cut at his stomach as he fought to slow his descent. He dug a hoof into the ground, found a hold, lost it. The sudden movement of his foreleg sent him rolling, and he tumbled painfully down the slope until he landed in a thick copse of fir trees.

He lay there dazed, nose crumpled and blood dripping from his mouth. His body ached with the incessant sting of a hundred bruises and cuts. Not for the first time, he cursed the form that he had taken. How did these inferior creatures stand it? The weakness of the senses, the frailty of the limbs. It was a brittle vessel, nothing short of a skin-wrapped package of fragile bones and loose guts waiting to be ruptured and spilled. He longed to resume his true form, if only to get him down this mountain.

But he could not. As tiresome as it was to masquerade as this vermin, his plan required it. He needed to walk, talk, look and act like one of them, and that required practice. If tripping over his own hooves was the price to pay for secrecy, then so be it.

His eye burned as a trickle of blood ran down his face. He blinked it away and struggled to his hooves, only to pitch forwards as his left foreleg gave out. Picking his face out of the dirt, he glared down at the offending limb. The slightest touch made it throb with pain.

He sighed aloud. Broken in the fall. It seemed that this task would test his patience in more ways than one. Easing back onto his rump, he looked down at the leg and waited.

And waited.

His eyes narrowed to slits. A dull, fetid glow encompassed the limb. Cuts began to seal, and the broken pieces of bone ground against one another as they started to mend.

But then the glow vanished.

He blinked in surprise before concentrating on the fracture, directing his magic, commanding it to heal. The glow returned, but his energy was stubborn, suddenly difficult to control. He paid it no mind, but focused only on healing himself. He had no warning before something far worse than the pain of a broken leg struck.

His magic ran out.

It started with a sudden and paralyzing coldness. Countless enchantments faltered, no longer staving off fatigue or repairing torn muscle or supplying oxygen. Left with the unfamiliar task of sustaining itself, the unicorn’s body collapsed.

The transformation failed next. Fur and hair dug back under his skin, fangs slashed through his gums, his spine bent with a series of cracks as his limbs grew in length. And with no magic to deaden the pain, he felt every lengthening bone, every tearing sinew.

He threw back his deformed head and roared in pain. Flailing blindly, he searched for any trace of his magic, found it, and latched on. Putting it all to use, he managed to stop himself mid-change.

He lay there for some time, his body grotesque and misshapen, caught between equine and Daedra. His mind was fogged by agony and confusion. What in Oblivion had happened? He had no idea, only that for the first time in his long existence, for as short a time as it lasted, he had truly been powerless, truly been weak. And he did not like it.

Gradually, he felt confident that his body was no longer at risk, but it was still several minutes before he closed his eyes and moved a hoof to his temple. In his mind’s eye, he sought the ethereal stream of magic flowing from his sphere. He was shocked to discover just how long a distance it stretched to reach him. So long that what was normally a tidal wave of power became the slightest trickle when it reached its destination.

Now he understood. Killing Sheogorath, opening the gates to invade the Isles, and finally making the long trip between worlds had exhausted his powers. And now, so far away from the source, they were replenishing at a snail’s pace.

His mind raced. He rifled through stolen thoughts, replayed images, struggling to see how he could have missed such an important detail. The pieces began falling into place: The sheer difficulty Sheogorath had encountered in summoning the Wabbajack from Tamriel. The multiple attempts required to fully transform Alduin’s body. Even Akatosh’s reason for summoning him was a clear indicator of the staggering amounts of energy needed to function in this world. And like a fool, he had ignored the signs. To his utter disgust, the madgod had tricked him once again. Unintentionally, of course, but that only made it more infuriating.

He cursed himself for his hastiness, and cursed Sheogorath simply for good measure.

Eventually, his anger faded. Day passed into night, then to day and night again. By and by, enough magic returned for him to assume his unicorn shape. From there, he lay as still and silent as a corpse, pondering his next move. The choice was an important one. Should he continue on, knowing full well that his magic was all but depleted? Or should he remain here and wait until his reserves were full once again?

In the end, he chose to err on the side of caution. Long the wait might be, but better that than to risk failure due to weakness.

Satisfied in his choice, he crawled beneath the boughs of a tree. The ground beneath was soft and dry with fallen needles; the heavy branches would keep him out of sight and undisturbed. It would do. Curling up against the trunk, the unicorn crossed his forelegs and lowered his muzzle down upon them.

His eyes closed, but even behind the lids those twin orbs of silver glowed coldly as the days passed, then months, then seasons. The snows fell and melted. Pine needles feel and blanketed his form like a shroud.

Still, he waited.

Five months into the eighth year, two eyes like shining silver coins opened in the darkness. The unicorn struggled to lift his head, but only managed the barest inch before it fell. He blinked in confusion. Lowering his gaze, he saw that his body had atrophied severely. He had allowed it only the barest amount of magicka to keep it functional. Now, skin was stretched taut over bone, muscles were starved away.

How much time had passed?

He disregarded the question and turned his attention inwards. A hot, fierce glow burned from the center of his being. He smiled in triumph. He was whole again.

With a mental twitch, magicka surged through his body, repairing the damage caused by his long wait. Power rippled around him, yearning for release. Teeth bared in a grin, he took hold of the tree at his back and telekinetically ripped it from the ground. Snapping the trunk in half, he flung the pieces aside and breathed in a full, rich gulp of the mountain air. The sensation of returning to his full strength was intoxicating.

The unicorn’s eyes shone with a manic gleam. Too much time had been wasted. Alduin had to be found. Had to be. His chances of success fell with every moment the dragon was safe and out of his grasp. Not to mention that Alduin would only fall deeper into his false reality. He had to find him, open his eyes. It would be for the best, really. The longer he lived in that delusional lie Akatosh had crafted, the more painful it would be to face the truth.

So Alduin had to be found. Would be found. If not today, then tomorrow. Or the next day. There were only so many places a dragon could hide.

And he had waited long enough.

Legs coiling like springs, the unicorn gave a mighty leap that took him high over the surrounding treetops. He landed several hundred feet down the slope, bones shattering like matchsticks on impact. He healed them instantly with a quick burst of magic and leapt again.

He hit the ground running, leaving the mountain far behind. His legs worked clumsily in the dark, but hours of nonstop motion would break them into rhythm.

As he ran, he searched once more through Sheogorath’s memories. There was so little he knew, and so many places to search. He had only the image of a room, a storm lashing at the windows.

But what manner of building housed that room? Was it located in a mountain hamlet, or some bustling city? Was Alduin there still, or had the dragon been moved elsewhere?

There were too many unknowns. So be it. He would find someone, and discover what they knew. If the answer wasn’t there, he would find another. And another, if need be.

A dim, purple glow swirled around him, and the world exploded in color. He blinked away the countless lights coming from solitary creatures and focused on detecting the life-force of larger groups. His head snapped to one such grouping of color to his right. A city, perhaps?

Breaking into a gallop, the unicorn found himself grinning in anticipation of the pain and suffering to come.

He never slowed, hooves thrumming against the grass, breath rumbling low and powerful in his chest, magicka whisking away the toxins of fatigue and feeding energy to his legs. Days went by; the woodlands opened to prairie, and the prairie thinned into desert.

But no matter the distance he covered, his life detection spell endured, and his course remained true.

He was getting close, now. The distant glow had spread into a field of light, and now he could discern individuals from the larger mass. His pace slowed. He was beginning to see a pattern in their movements, and he could hear the pounding of hooves, smell the musk and sweat of a hundred moving bodies. In less than an hour’s time he was upon them.

Crouching low against a windswept dune, he lifted his head over the top and watched.

They were large creatures, several times the size of his borrowed shape. Their fur was rough and matted with dust, and muscles rippled along their backs and haunches. They moved as a group, thundering across the ground with no visible destination. A great assortment of items lay atop their backs. Everything from bedding to tools to disassembled shelters were being carried along.

Nomads, he realized. Tough and well-suited to surviving beneath the desert sun. Certainly, they were not the creatures he sought. But if their travels reached far enough, perhaps they might be able to better direct him?

Keeping well out of sight, he followed the stampede, knowing that eventually they would stop for the night. Sure enough, the great mass of buffalo slowed to a halt as dusk crept over the dunes. He waited as they settled in.

Soon enough, the lights of campfires began to appear, and the air was filled with the sounds of conversation, laughter and singing. These poor wretches really did make things too easy.

Slinking low over the sand, he circled the camp, looking for an opportunity. Should he assume one of their shapes and simply take the information as they slept? A flash of movement caught his eye; a buffalo calf, tiredly stumbling away from one of the campfires.

His mouth twitched upwards into something too fierce and ugly to be called a smile. This presented far too great of an opportunity to pass up.

He was beside it in a flash. Its eyes widened in shock before he shoved a green, glowing hoof into its face and loosed a fully-charged paralysis spell. The calf’s body went rigid and toppled to the ground. Chuckling to himself, he hooked a foreleg around its neck and began to drag it away.

He was just passing one of the shelters when something massive loomed up in front of him, its shape blotting out the stars. The bull glared down at him, jaw clenched.

“Let. Her. Go,” it said, each word enunciated with barely-contained rage.

Giving a light shrug, the unicorn uncurled his leg. The calf’s body fell to the dirt with a thud, and he quickly kicked it to the side.

“You should be more careful what you ask for,” he said casually.

It gave a furious yell and charged, ducking its head and slamming directly into the smaller creature. The unicorn gave a hard flinch, but held his ground.

The buffalo stumbled back, stunned from the impact. It recovered quickly, charged once more, but this time angling its head to try and catch and gore him through the chest.

At the last moment, he dodged back and away from the rising horns, then drew back his head and snapped it down hard. There was a gruesome crack as their skulls collided and the buffalo’s forehead crumpled inwards, eyes glazing as it crashed to a heap. He watched for a moment, idly wondering if their short ‘battle’ had attracted any attention.

When the laughter and conversation went undisturbed, he wordlessly hefted the calf and continued on his way.

When he judged them to be out of earshot, the unicorn dropped the unmoving body and waited for the enchantment to run its course. Suddenly the calf’s body loosened, and it sprawled limply across the ground, gasping and gulping large breaths of air. He sat and watched for a moment, then asked “Can you understand me?”

The calf’s head swiveled towards him, and he saw absolute bewilderment in its eyes, like a child seeing a fairy tale come to life in front of them. Its mouth opened and closed soundlessly. He realized in amusement that it had not yet seen him clearly. It had only caught the slightest glimpse before his spell took hold.

He gave it a shrewd look and rose to his hooves. “We both know the answer to that question. I spoke to your would-be rescuer easily enough. However, I do not enjoy being ignored, so I will ask again. Can you understand me?”

Its breaths were becoming short and panicked. It looked over its shoulder to the distant camp, and then it was scrambling away, trying to both crawl and stand at the same time.

The unicorn sighed lightly. Enough of these delays. He took a half-step forward and kicked the buffalo savagely in the chest. There was a wet cracking sound as bones broke, and the calf let out a shrill wail of pain as it was knocked to the ground.

He leaned down over its face, waited until tear-streaked eyes opened. Then he asked again. “Can you understand me?”

“Ye-yes,” it said.

His face brightened. “Wonderful,” he said. “That won’t make things easier, I’m afraid. But it will make them much more entertaining.”

He trod a slow, lazy circle around the buffalo, chuckling when it shied away from his hooves. After several minutes of tense silence, he paused.

“Do you know what I am,” he asked. It tensed, but made no reply. He stepped over it, making sure to brush his hooves roughly over its chest. It clenched its teeth firmly to keep from screaming.

“I think you do,” he continued. “And I think you’re wise enough to remember what will happen if you don’t answer. So tell me, where can more of my kind be found?”

It hesitated for less than a second. “No… I… I don’t know what you are. I’ve never seen… anything like you before. Please, I don’t know!”

He drew back and kicked the calf in the face, mindful to avoiding damaging its jaw. Its left eye swelled shut, nose bursting in a spray of blood as a dark hoof-shaped bruise bloomed over its face. For good measure, he directed another kick to its ribs; they broke like rotted timbers.

This time he ignored the screaming and spoke into the buffalo’s ear. “Oh, you know something. It’s written all over your face. Perhaps something you’ve seen, or heard. Even if it’s only a city on the horizon, or a spot on a map, there’s something inside your head that I want. And you are going to give it to me.”

He let it get its blubbering under control, reclining back in the sand with a peaceful smile on his face. He delighted in its terror, watching its eyes darting back and forth, praying for someone to come and rescue it from this nightmare. He even let it call for help, the screams echoing unanswered over the dunes until its voice went hoarse.

Finally the cries tapered off. When its remaining eye landed on him, he stood and approached. Recognizing the intent, it tried to crawl backwards in panic.

“Wait, please wait,” it begged. “I do know something! One of the other tribes, we would meet them during our stampedes! Their scouts would tell us stories, stories about creatures like you!”

He sneered and drew back a hoof. “What good are stories to me,” he asked mockingly.

The buffalo cried out and held both forelegs out beseechingly. “No, it’s true! I swear, it’s all true! They saw the creatures with their own eyes, visited their homes! Please-”

His hoof lowered. “Did they,” he asked thoughtfully. “And did these stories tell you where the creatures could be found? What their cities looked like? The direction and distance one would travel?”

“Yes, yes,” the calf said. “All of that!”

“Then I suppose you should tell me after all.”

The buffalo started to speak, but stopped. He could see the fear on its face. “If… if I tell you,” it said desperately, “will you promise not to hurt me anymore?”

“There is no ‘if’ about it,” he said in a flat, dead voice. “You will tell me, I can assure you of that. Afterwards? Well, I am going to kill you.”

A hitching sob tore from the calf’s lips. This time, it took several minutes for the cries and begging and pleading to end, but he waited patiently until the buffalo simply had no more tears to shed.

“I’m going to kill you,” he repeated. “But how you die, and what comes after, are entirely up to you.”

He stepped closer, mouth uplifted in grim amusement. “You see, you’ve withheld the truth from me once already. I’m curious to see if you’ll do so again.”

He continued before it could respond. “So, here is what will happen. You will tell me everything. If you leave anything out, I will know. If you lie, I will know. And then?”

He leaned in, almost muzzle to muzzle with the terrified calf. “If you are truthful, I will break each of your legs, put out your eyes, and rip your tongue from your mouth. Then I will make my way to this city, dragging you along until heat and exposure end your suffering. And it will end then and there. I will leave this land and your pitiful tribe in peace, never to return.”

He stepped back, and then lowered his head until the deadly point of his horn was pressing against the calf’s stomach.

“If, on the other hand, I find that you have withheld any information, I will slit your belly open wide and let you bleed out on the sands, then make a trail of your blood back to that miserable camp. And then, when others find and follow it here, I will ask my questions of them, and kill them in turn, until I am satisfied.”

He could see the question on its lips long before it spoke. “Wha… what if I lie?”

“If you lie…” he purred. “I will show you mercy. Your death will be swift and painless. I promise; you won’t feel a thing. But then I will go to your camp and I will kill them all, slowly, cruelly. I will force mothers to watch their children die, kill wives in front of their husbands, and leave each of their bodies to rot and bloat in the sun.”

He stepped back, allowing the information to sink in. He was slightly impressed when no further pleas or cries were voiced.

“This will be the greatest and last decision of your short life,” he promised. “Do you understand the consequences that your choice will entail?”

It nodded, and he could see the utter despair in its eyes.

“Then speak now, and choose your words wisely.”

And it told him everything. The direction to travel, the supposed distance, even what vague descriptions had been passed down about the inhabitants. He had to admit, it sounded promising. So he listened in silence, his face revealing nothing, until it was apparent that the calf had nothing left to tell.

He clambered to his hooves and looked out over the moonlit sand. He inhaled, long and deep, and lowered his head as though in thought. Finally, he looked back to the calf and fixed it with a withering smile.

“I am grateful for your help. And I think… you’ve earned a quick death.”

A fresh wave of horror passed over its face. “Wha… no! No, no, no you can’t! Please… I told you what you wanted! It was the truth, all of it! My tribe, you said you’d…”

“Why should you concern yourself with them,” he interrupted. “Whatever happens, you won’t be in a position to care.”

It leaned forward, grasping his foreleg between its hooves.

“You promised! Please, just leave them-”

He reared back and stomped down hard on the calf’s head. Its body gave a final shudder, skull cracking open like an egg. Flicking the gore off of his hoof, the unicorn took a final look into the buffalo’s lifeless eyes. They were wide with fear and revulsion. It made him wonder if the rest of his people would be so easy to break.

Silver eyes flicked back to the scattered glow of campfires. For a moment, he considered following through on his promise.

No. No, he had indulged himself already, had his fun. He needed to get back on Alduin’s trail. He would leave them be for now. Let them find the bodies. Let them mourn and curse and wonder. Their time would come soon enough.

He trod over the corpse and galloped off without looking back.

Spike was perched at the edge of a jagged outcropping of rock. Below him, sheer cliffs fell hundreds of feet to the valley below. The land was still green, its lakes and streams not yet taken by frost. But the snows were coming; he could see it in the thick grey clouds to the east, could feel the bite in the air. And once they came, they would not leave quickly, not in this land of winter.

He wasn’t sure how he knew this. The landscape was strange and unfamiliar, but something within him called it home. He felt himself moving, leaning out and over that massive drop. Afraid, he tried to pull back, but his body refused to obey. Only able to watch, he felt himself standing. Massive wings unfurled, HIS wings, he realized. Then he was leaping off the crag, wings giving a hard stroke as he plunged into thin air.

He felt something move away from him. The surface he was laying upon shifted as the weight was removed. Still half-asleep, he barely noticed the sound of hooves shuffling on carpet or the metallic clink of jewelry.

There was a brief hum, and then a soft ephemeral feeling surrounded him. Blankets gently slid away, and then he was being lifted into the air. He gave a soft groan of discomfort and blearily cracked open an eye, trying to discover the source of this rude awakening. He caught a glimpse of blue magic and candlelight reflecting off gold before he was set down. Warm fur against his scales. Sighing in contentment, he embraced the new heat source and quickly drifted back into slumber.

He flew onward into the blizzard. Snow lashed at his face and wings, propelled by the shrieking winds. Somehow, he knew that he could break this storm apart in an instant, if he so chose. But instead he continued through those grey clouds, enjoying the struggle, enjoying the ferocity of the weather.

Dark shapes rose up on either side: two other dragons were flying alongside him. Chasing him? Following? His head turned to the left, locking eyes with the smaller creature. Its head dipped in a show of respect, and then it was speaking, voice loud and easily heard over the wind. The words were alien and unrecognizable to him, but somehow he knew that he had been greeted, that these two were here to offer aid should he require it.

His own mouth opened, and then he felt his tongue moving as he too spoke in that unfamiliar language. Whatever he said, the two dragons made noises of agreement and fell several feet behind, their posture now that of a military escort.

A loud noise roused him, the creaking of hinges and the hollow clang of a shutting door. The object beneath him was moving. Spike could feel the steady rhythm of steps and hear the click of hooves on stone. Voices came from ahead, and he vaguely wondered if they were speaking the same tongue as the dragons in his dream. He tried to listen, but it was too quiet to tell.

They paused briefly, and he could hear another door swinging open. A burst of cold air swept over him, and he shivered against the morning’s chill. Not as resilient as he had been in the dream, he snuggled deeper into the warm fur, not hearing the quiet giggle that was quickly muffled by a hoof.

It was humid outside, the chill mild, but still enough to pull him further from sleep. The howl of the storm and the feel of his beating wings faded, until there was only the quiet morning dawn and the rustling of branches in the wind.

Suddenly there was a loud humming in his ears, and he could feel the air being charged with magic. The hum built into a whine, then a high trill. There was a flash of light, bright enough that he could see it even through his closed eyelids, and a familiar warmth prickled at his scales.

Spike groaned once more and moved an arm over his face to try and block the sunlight. But the damage had been done; he was wide awake.

Sighing to himself, already knowing what was next, he opened his eyes. And there she was, just like every other morning he could remember. Her eyes were bright, her mane flowing in the wind, and a soft smile on her face, a smile only for him.

“Rise and shine, child of mine,” Princess Celestia said.

“It’s way too early, mom,” Spike complained. Dropping his arm, he tried to escape the sun by squeezing his head beneath one of the alicorn’s wings.

“Oh no you don’t,” she said, lifting her wing away.

Spike huffed and moved into a sitting position. “Why do we always have to do this?”

“Now Spike,” she said. “You know quite well that it is my foremost duty to raise and lower the sun with each passing day. And it is summer, after all, so it must be done especially early.”

“That’s not what I meant! I mean why do you always bring ME out here too? I don’t help with anything, so why can’t I sleep in? You could have one of the servants wake me up.”

She gave him a know-it-all smirk. “I don’t think so, mister. We both know that you’ve got everypony in the castle wrapped around your claw. All you’d have to do is ask for five more minutes, and I’m sure they’d let you snooze into the afternoon.”

Darn it, how did she know? Scrambling for a different approach, Spike clasped his claws together and gave his mother the most pathetic look he could manage.

“But mommy, I’m a growing dragon! I NEED sleep! What if waking up so early stuts… stuns… makes me stop growing? I don’t wanna be this short forever!”

Celestia gave a delighted gasp and put a hoof to her chin. “Why, that would be wonderful! Just imagine, you’d always be my little baby boy!”

“What,” he squawked. “That’s not what I meant! And it wouldn’t be wonderful, it’d be bad!”

She levitated him around to face her. “Oh, I disagree. Because if you grow up, I won’t be able to do this anymore,” she leaned in and blew a raspberry against his stomach, causing him to burst out laughing.

“Ah! Mo… mom! Cut it out!” Spike pushed against her muzzle, trying to keep his giggling under control.

She looked up and gave him a light peck on the nose. “Alright, alright, I was only teasing.”

Her smile dropped a fraction. “But sometimes I do feel like you’re growing up too fast. Before long you’ll be too big for me to hold in my hooves or carry on my back.”

He immediately thought back to his dream, and somehow he knew she was right. Reaching up, he wrapped both arms around Celestia’s neck and nuzzled her cheek.

“Don’t worry, mom,” he said as bravely as he could. “When that happens, I’ll be the one holding you! And you can ride on MY back!”

She beamed down at him. “Oh Spike, you’re the most wonderful son a mother could ask for.”

“I like to think I am,” he said with a grin.

Any further words were cut off by a loud gurgle from the dragon’s belly. Celestia gave him an amused look. “Well, that won’t do. How are you supposed to grow into a big, strong dragon and take care of me without breakfast? We’ll have to fix that. In fact, how about I make you a deal?”

Spike’s eyes lit up. Any kind of deal involving breakfast sounded good to him.

“Since you were thoughtful enough to keep me company while I raised the sun, how would you like to invite a friend to come and have breakfast with us?”

“Really? I can invite anypony I want?”

She nodded. “Yes, any-”

“Twilight!”

Celestia chuckled. “I would never have guessed.” She returned Spike to her back and began trotting towards the castle.

“Alright then, let’s see if my faithful student will mind delaying her studies for awhile.”

At first, Spike had been glad that his mother elected to walk rather than fly. The Sparkle household was quite a distance from the castle, and he hoped to use that extra time to maybe sneak in a quick nap. Unfortunately, their route led directly through the heart of Canterlot. Between the city’s hustle and bustle and the constant stream of ponies greeting them, Spike never even had a chance to close his eyes.

A trio of schoolfillies passed by, waving up at him. He returned the gesture, and was left slightly confused when they giggled and galloped away. It didn’t feel like he would ever get used to that. Complete strangers running up to greet him, ponies excitedly asking to shake his claw or touch his spines, parents leaping at the opportunity to introduce their children to him.

He could understand why they acted that way towards his mother. She WAS the princess, after all. She controlled the sun and moon, and had ruled Equestria for… well… forever he supposed. It made sense for them to treat her special. But why him? He didn’t do any of that stuff. He was just… Spike.

But he didn’t want to be rude or mean, so he returned the greetings and smiled and waved just like Celestia did, and was relieved when she finally bid goodbye to their well-wishers and stopped in front of the house.

Celestia lifted a hoof and knocked firmly on the door. Hoofsteps approached, and then the door swung open to reveal a unicorn mare in a white, fluffy bathrobe. Her eyes widened as she recognized the visitors.

“Well, good morning your majesties,” she said quickly. “Please, come in!”

Celestia stepped inside, closing the door behind her as Mrs. Sparkle wrung her hooves together nervously.

“I hope you can forgive the mess in here,” she said. “If only I’d known you were coming, I’d have cleaned up, or put the kettle on, or at least done something with my mane.”

The alicorn glanced over the spotless living room and smiled. “No harm done. In truth, we should be the ones apologizing for such an abrupt visit. You see, we were hoping to borrow your daughter for a short time.”

“Oh, oh of course! Hmm, I don’t think she’s woken up yet though…”

“So go wake her up,” Spike advised. He gave Celestia a light nudge and continued sarcastically. “Isn’t that what moms are supposed to do?”

She turned to give him a playful glare, and Mrs. Sparkle burst out laughing.

“Oh… I see,” she said. “Somedragon wasn’t too thrilled about waking up with the sun, was he?”

“Nope,” Spike said.

“Well, I suppose it wouldn’t be fair to let you suffer alone now would it? Let me go see if I can fetch Twilight.”

The unicorn vanished up the stairs, and soon they could hear a series of loud knocks against wood.

“Honey, it’s time to wake up!”

After a few moments, the knocking began again.

“Twilight? Did you hear me?”

A door creaked open, only to suddenly slam shut.

“Twilight Sparkle! What have I told you about locking doors with your magic?! You open this right now!”

Spike looked back to Celestia. “Is that why you don’t let me have my own room?”

The princess smirked. “Can you blame me? I’d have to smash down the door and drag you out every morning.”

The knocking turned into loud banging.

“YOUNG LADY, THE PRINCESS HERSELF IS WAITING FOR YOU DOWNSTAIRS! NOW YOU OPEN THIS-”

Several things happened in the next few seconds.

A door was flung against the wall with enough force to shake the entire house.

Mrs. Sparkle gave a loud yelp of surprise.

There was a heavy thud as some poor pony was knocked to the ground.

A mysterious purple blur rocketed down the stairs and screeched to a stop in front of the dumbfounded royals.

“Princess, what are you doing here? Oh no, did I miss my lesson? I must have overslept, forcing you to come and find me” she stammered in panic. “I’m so, so sorry for oversleeping! I knew three alarm clocks wouldn’t be enough!”

Before her tirade could go any further, Spike burst out laughing.

“Wow, Twilight,” he said, looking her over. “Don’t you know that Nightmare Night is like six months away?”

Twilight was gasping for breath, her eyes still bleary and unfocused from her sudden awakening. Her fur was in complete disarray, with tufts poking out in every direction. Her tail was knotted and tangled, and her mane was sticking out in two large cowlicks that almost looked like his ear fins. Bed-head was too kind a description.

Spike tapped his chin with a claw. “Hmm, let me guess. Bride of Foalenstein, right?”

Temporarily forgetting her earlier panic, Twilight glared at him. “Oh, shut up. You’re just lucky you don’t have a mane that needs to be brushed out every morning.”

“Hey! It takes a lot of work to look this good!” Put on the defensive, Spike slid down from Celestia’s back. Holding out an arm, he pointed at the gleaming purple scales.

“Do you know how much polishing it takes to make me all shiny and stuff?”

Celestia stepped between the two. “Now, now, we didn’t come here to fight.” She glanced back to Twilight. “I know this is rather short notice, but Spike and I hoped that you might join us for breakfast before the two of you begin your lessons.”

Twilight perked up immediately, both in excitement for the outing and relief that her lessons had not been missed. Giving a rapid nod of her head, she turned and zoomed back up the stairs, returning in half a minute with her coat smooth, mane straight and tail brushed.

Levitating Spike onto her back, she grinned up at the princess. “Ready!”

“Then let’s be on our way,” Celestia replied.

“Hi Ho Twilight,” Spike yelled as the unicorn trotted out the door. Celestia shook her head in amusement and followed.

Unbeknownst to Celestia, she and Spike would not be the only unexpected guests in the city that day. As the sun gradually tracked across the sky, several hundred ponies were plodding through the Andalusian Forest north of Canterlot. The group was strung out in a long and ragged line; at the lead was a unicorn mare. She was pushing stubbornly through the undergrowth, stopping occasionally as if to check their direction.

They had been travelling for days, pushing themselves nearly to the point of exhaustion. Despite this, their progress was slow. A group such as theirs could only move as fast as the weakest member, and with so many wounded and children among them, their weakest were firmly in the majority.

Seeing that many were on the verge of collapse, she lifted a hoof and signaled for them to halt. The numerous ponies dropped gratefully to the forest floor, eager to rest their weary legs.

She made her way back, checking on each of the scattered clusters that had formed from the main group. Passing each, she asked the same question to each of the escorting guards.

“Have the groups ahead and behind stayed within sight? Have any gone missing or arrived without warning?”

Luckily, every guard’s report was positive. All of their people were accounted for, and though many were in poor condition, none seemed to be in any real danger.

Even better, it seemed that he was not following them. She would not deny that the first days of their exodus had found her in a constant state of fear. She had expected him to pursue, to meld into their group and attack from within or simply come bursting out of the trees. She fought sleep in those early nights, her ears straining at the darkness for any sound of hooves in the shadows.

Even now, she half-expected to see those cold, silver eyes glaring at her from deep within the foliage.

She willed herself to be calm. Her people trusted her, were counting on her. She had to be strong for them. She knew that they had to be close. Almost there, almost safe.

“My queen?”

She looked over to see one of her guards. The stallion’s face was half-covered in bandages, and his legs looked ready to give out, but she could see the excitement in his eyes.

“You need to see this! Quickly, it’s this way!”

As wounds were re-bandaged and parents tended to their children, she followed him ahead. The trees were thinning, and when she finally emerged from the forest she was met with the most welcome of sights.

A large mountain towered up into the blue sky, and built into its side was a great and gleaming city. One that she had not seen since long ago in her youth.

Canterlot.

“Is that it,” he asked. “The sanctuary you promised us?”

“Yes,” she said after a moment’s hesitation. “We are nearly there.”

They looked out across the plains, each trying to estimate the time it would take in reaching the city.

“Do you think she’ll remember you,” the stallion asked.

She gave a hollow laugh. “Oh, I’d imagine that she will. If not, I’m certain it will be easy enough to refresh her memory.”

“A more pressing concern is whether or not she’ll be pleased to see me again,” the mare said.

Now that they had made it this far, that was the real question, wasn’t it? Would the princess mind having company over for the next few years?

The walk back was quiet as she pondered her next step. Should she bring them all with her into the city? Or would such a move immediately put the citizens on edge? Would it seem like a hostile move?

And what if their request was denied? Their lives might be at risk, and she doubted they would be able to escape Canterlot in their current state.

But at the same time, could she risk leaving them here to wait? True, they were all stable for the time being, but only she was familiar with the land, and she doubted they would be able to survive on their own. What would they do if she failed to return? Or if that… thing caught up to them?

She was so lost in thought that she nearly walked right past her subjects. In a way, she almost wished she had. Several hundred eyes were focused upon her, each of them filled with worry and fatigue and barely restrained despair. Each of them wondering what was next. Each of them believing in her to know what was best.

“Everyone, I have wonderful news,” she said, and the group leaned forwards in anticipation.

“Our journey is nearly at an end. Canterlot waits just beyond this forest, its walls no further than a half day’s walk.”

A cheer rose up through the line, and the many ponies seemed to deflate with relief.

“But first, I must go and speak with the ruler of this land. I will explain the direness of our situation and beg for her assistance. I do not know how she will react, however, and I have no desire to risk your lives should the worst occur. Therefore I must ask that you remain here, safe and out of sight, until I return.”

Beckoning with her hoof, she called her guards up to stand beside her. “If luck is with us, we should return with news before the day is out. Rest for now, and I shall see you when I return.”

She turned to the guards, picking several out of the group. “The ten of you will accompany me. The rest of you will remain here to keep watch over our people. I expect constant vigilance.”

“We passed a clearing no more than half a mile back,” she said. “I want you to move everyone there and establish a perimeter. Keep within sight of one another at all times, and let no one leave unless they are accompanied by at least two others.”

One guard spoke up. “And what will we do if he arrives?”

“If he shows up, you will raise the alarm without hesitation. Every soldier and able-bodied adult should rush him immediately. Overwhelm him with numbers, get him pinned down, and then drain him in unison.”

The guard’s face paled. “But, that will…”

“I know what will happen,” she snapped. “But we cannot defeat him otherwise. I pray that we never see him again, but IF we do, that may be our only chance.”

As they turned to depart, one voice was raised from the back of the group.

“But your highness, wait! What will we do if you don’t come back?”

She paused, struggling to decide how best to respond. In the end, she could only keep walking. Her silence was enough of an answer.

The Canterlot throne room was a whirlwind with activity. With so many things vying for her attention, Celestia felt as though she was being pulled in every direction at once.

On her right was Sweet Grass, carrying a massive pile of documents on his back. One by one, the earth pony would reach up and pass her the next report. From there, she would have to carefully examine its contents, choose to reject or revise it if need be, then finally add her signature. Finally, she would pass it along to Chinook, who was hovering alongside her and holding the gradually rising stack of finished work.

All in all, a very efficient system. Or at least it should have been. But the situation was compounded by two very important distractions.

One was sitting at her hooves, a quill in his claw, a math book at his feet and a look of intense concentration on his face. The other was several feet ahead, practicing her magical finesse by levitating and manipulating two dozen objects at once and struggling not to drop or bang them together.

The end result was Celestia trying to handle an unending stream of paperwork while simultaneously checking Spike’s answers and monitoring Twilight’s control. This led to the princess passing several completed papers back to Sweet Grass, unknowingly signing her name in the wrong sections of the documents, and occasionally not paying the slightest attention to their contents.

She was just looking over a price estimate for repairing the primary bridge to Manehattan when she snuck a glance down at her son’s work and chuckled.

“Wait, Spike,” she said, accidentally shoving a paper into Chinook’s face. “Remember, when you square you’re multiplying the number by itself. So it should be five times five, not five times two.”

“Oh, right. Thanks mom!”

She managed to get another three papers approved before she noticed Twilight’s face turning an even deeper shade of purple.

“Twilight,” she called, raising a hoof that nearly bowled Sweet Grass over. “Don’t hold your breath while casting, especially during such a prolonged spell. I know it might seem to help with your concentration, but you don’t want to pass out now, do you?”

The unicorn squeaked out an apology before sucking in a breath.

“Princess, you’ve signed that form eleven times now.”

“Oh, so I have. Pass me the next, won’t you?”

“Hey mom, my quill broke. Can I borrow another?”

“Of course, Spike. Here you are.”

“Wait your majesty, these last two reports are unsigned.”

“That’s odd. I could have sworn I… wait. What happened to my quill?”

“Umm, I believe you gave it to Spike, your majesty.”

*Clang!*

*Crash!*

*Bong!*

*Bang!*

“ARGH!”

Everypony in the room jumped as several helmets fell to the floor. One landed on Sweet Grass’ head, disorienting the earth pony and causing several hundred sheets of paper to go flying. Twilight looked up sheepishly.

“Oops.”

Celestia laughed out loud. Passing the last completed report back to Chinook, she said, “I think we’ve all earned a break.”

Dismissing the councilors, she motioned for both students to clean up their respective work areas. She watched as Spike ran back and forth, quickly laying his books on a nearby table while Twilight levitated each helmet onto its respective guard’s head. She couldn’t help but smile at their enthusiasm, and then let out a groan as she looked over the numerous reports scattered across the floor.

“So how come you have so much extra work today,” Spike asked as she began magically sorting them out. He gave the papers a wary glance and shuddered. “I bet my claw would fall off if I tried signing all those!”

“It is quite a bit more than I usually handle in one day,” she admitted. “But there is a small matter which I must attend to tomorrow, so I felt it best to move some of the next day’s itinerary.”

“Oh, right,” Twilight said. “You’re going to Cloudsdale tomorrow, aren’t you?”

Celestia blinked in surprise. “How did you know that?”

The unicorn’s ears drooped slightly. “Well, I heard my grandpa talking about it the other night. He was complaining to my mom about how you always refuse to bring any guards with you. He said that you were ‘taking a damned stupid risk because she doesn’t want to feel crowded.’”

Celestia was about to reprimand Twilight for cursing in front of Spike, but the baby dragon had already leapt up and turned to her in excitement.

“You’re going to Cloudsdale? Can we come too?”

“Well, I don’t know…”

“Please, mom? Neither of us has ever been there before! And it’s supposed to be really cool. I heard they make rainbows there, and it’s where the Wonderbolts perform!”

Twilight joined in. “Yes, it would be great to see a real pegasus city! And it would be a wonderful learning experience for us too! We could study the architectural designs of cloud buildings, and map the street layouts, and make an in-depth comparison between it and land-based urban centers!”

She nudged the baby dragon. “Isn’t that right, Spike,” she asked conspiratorially.

The dragon nodded. “Yea, umm, all that stuff she said!”

Celestia thought it over, but the doors flew open before she could respond. Her gaze lifted to see a pegasus guard leading in several exhausted looking stallions.

“Forgive the interruption, your majesty,” the pegasus said. “But these ponies have sought an audience with you. They say it is quite urgent.”

Levitating the papers onto a table, she nodded and settled back on the throne. “Of course. Thank you, Captain Phalanx.”

Looking back to the group, she smiled invitingly. “Don’t be nervous, my little ponies. Come in.”

They entered the room slowly, and she noticed one unicorn mare that seemed to carry herself in a manner suggesting command. There was something about them that she found strange. Their posture seemed tense, like they were readying themselves for trouble.

She pushed the thoughts away. “Now then, what is it you wish to discuss?”

The mare stepped forwards, and the other ponies followed. When they reached the dais, the mare bowed her head in respect.

“Thank you for seeing us, princess. Though it shames me to make a request of you before we state our business or even our names, may I ask that we be allowed to speak in privacy?”

“Of course,” Celestia said with a nod. At her command, the guards quickly marched from the room.

Well, that was the easy part. She looked over to Spike and Twilight. Both were staring at the mysterious mare and her group. Celestia could see the curiosity in their eyes, and knew that it would be quite a chore to evict them. What she needed was a way to get them to leave of their own volition. Something that would occupy their attention, keep them from eavesdropping. Something like…

She grinned down at them mischievously. “Alright, you two. I’ll bring you along for the trip to Cloudsdale.”

“That is,” she said, interrupting their cheers. “If Twilight can fully learn how to cast the spell that will allow you both to walk and stand on clouds.” Tearing a small piece away from one of the reports, she penned out a small note that she handed to the purple unicorn.

“When you get to the library, this is the shelf and scroll number where the spell can be found. It is not exceptionally difficult, but it will take a great deal of practice to sustain it for an entire day. Spike, I expect you to assist Twilight in both learning and perfecting it. Any questions?”

The two shook their heads.

“Then off you go,” Celestia said. “And good luck.”

Spike leapt onto Twilight’s back. “Okay! We’ll get this figured out no problem. Right Twi?”

“You got it,” the unicorn said with confidence, and then the two were galloping out of the throne room.

Closing the doors behind them, She turned back to her guests. “Now then, I’ve done as you asked. Are you ready to explain what business you have with me?”

“Almost,” the mare replied. “But I do have one final condition. Will you create a barrier around this room to ensure that nopony happens to walk in on us or listen in from the hall?”

Celestia’s smile never wavered, but inwardly the princess was becoming unsettled. “This must be a very important matter indeed, if you are taking such pains to keep it a secret.”

“Please, your majesty,” the unicorn insisted. “When you know of our reasons, you will see that it is best kept between us. This is for the safety of your people as well as my own.”

Something was wrong with this situation, but she couldn’t put her hoof on it. Nevertheless, she closed her eyes and focused. Her horn glowed softly, and then every inch of the room was coated with the same blue light. Even the windows had been turned opaque by her magic.

“Thank you,” the unicorn said. Turning back to the other members of the group, she let out a shaky breath and nodded her head. She turned back to Celestia, and the entire group vanished in a flash of green light.

What emerged was a crowd of nearly identical figures, their coats an ebony black, eyes a vibrant teal. She could see fangs protruding from their upper lips, and horns growing from their foreheads. Strangest of all were the holes in their legs and the insect-like wings that seemed to buzz nervously.

Celestia was already leaping to her hooves, legs braced to charge and horn alight. Her mind was racing. She knew what they were. Changelings, creatures that fed off of emotion and could change shape at will. But why were they here? Had they come for her ponies?

A chill ran up her spine. Of course, why else would they try to speak with her alone and then ask her to seal the room? No doubt they wanted to subdue her first, allowing the rest of the horde to descend upon a helpless Canterlot. Well, she wasn’t going down that easily.

Lightning crackled around her horn as she charged a spell.

The lead changeling threw herself to the floor, hooves spread in a gesture of supplication. Those behind her quickly followed suit.

“Celestia, please hear me out! I know how this looks, but I swear our intentions are peaceful!”

The alicorn paused, sparks still flying from her horn. Every instinct was telling her to blast away. She managed to resist the urge. “Then explain yourselves,” she said, a bit more harshly than necessary.

The changeling winced, but lifted her head. “I apologize for deceiving you, but I knew that your people would be alarmed if we had approached in our true forms. I also knew that a message requesting you meet us outside the city would seem far too suspicious.”

“So instead you chose to lie, impersonate my subjects and trick me into meeting with you,” Celestia said frostily. The light around her horn was growing brighter.

“I am truly sorry,” the changeling said. “But it was vital that I speak with you. I… that is… we need your help.”

“My help,” she said, genuinely surprised. “And what makes you think that I would offer it to mere strangers?”

“Strangers? But you helped me before. Don’t you remember?”

Celestia was perplexed. She could not recall ever having aided one of the changeling hives. Each was essentially its own independent nation, and she had neither visited one nor housed any… wait…

The glow surrounding her horn faded, and she stepped carefully down from the dais and approached the still bowing changelings. As she neared, the leader lifted her head. Half of her face was covered by mane, and Celestia leaned down and peer closer.

The princess gasped as she realized that yes, she did recognize her.

“Chrysalis,” she breathed out.

Seeing her again unleashed a torrent of memories. It had been many years ago, less than two centuries after the date of Luna’s exile when Chrysalis had first stumbled into Equestria. Half-starved and alone, she had blended into a number of pony settlements, feeding as much as she dared before fleeing prior to discovery.

Her true nature was discovered only a handful of times, but even that was enough. Soon, tales of her spread throughout Equestria. Foals were warned to never venture out at night lest they be spirited off, townsponies were cautioned to be on the lookout for strange new visitors that might be a predator in disguise.

Eventually, the stories of a shape-shifting black alicorn reached even Canterlot, and Celestia had taken action. Recognizing a pattern to the attacks, she garrisoned each surrounding town with a full company of soldiers, instructing them to keep watch for any new arrivals or suspicious behavior. In time, their patience was reward, and Chrysalis was quickly captured and brought to the princess.

Based on the rumors, Celestia had expected a monster, some conniving and depraved villain. It was to her great surprise when the prisoner was revealed to be a child, still in transition from adolescence to adulthood, her crimes due to desperation instead of malice. Celestia found herself intrigued, and foregoing punishment, elected to have Chrysalis explain her actions.

The changeling’s story had been a grim one. Her native hive had grown too large, and in traditional fashion, she and several other fledgling queens were sent out to create hives of their own. Given no directions and only a small retinue of adults to assist with repopulation, they were thrown headlong into the unfamiliar world. It was a dangerous, often suicidal task, as many would succumb to the elements or starve before they could locate a viable source of nourishment.

And now, long separated from her companions, captive and at the mercy of a foreign nation, it seemed she would meet a similar fate.

But Celestia had been moved by her plight, and seeing more than a bit of Luna in the frightened young ruler, showed mercy. Welcoming the girl into her home, she volunteered her own emotions as sustenance for Chrysalis to rebuild her strength, even sent her troops out to locate and rescue those changelings still lost in the winter storms.

For just over a year, their small group inhabited Canterlot Castle in secret, true identities known only to Celestia and a few of her most trusted guards.

Not that this gesture was completely altruistic. The experience had given Celestia valuable insight into the nature of the changeling race. She had learned a great deal about their family and social structures, their shape-shifting abilities, even their feeding habits. She had been shocked to learn that they were fully capable of mating and even breeding with ponies. She had been surprised to discover that, upon reaching a certain population they could fully survive off their own hive’s emotions.

And in time, she grew to care for Chrysalis as if the queen were a member of her own family.

Shortly after the first children were born, Chrysalis had determined their group ready to leave. Tearfully, the two friends and rulers said their goodbyes, both promising to meet again one day, yet neither expecting it to truly occur.

But now, here she was once again. She had grown up beautifully, now looking every inch a proud and noble queen. Pulling the surprised changeling to her hooves, Celestia laughed and threw both forelegs around Chrysalis’ neck.

“It is you,” she exclaimed, ignoring the familiar prickling sensation that was spreading out from her chest. Slowly, almost timidly, the changeling returned her embrace.

Celestia pulled away and shook her head. “I cannot believe I didn’t recognize you at first,” she said.

Chrysalis chuckled weakly. “Well, it HAS been close to eight-hundred years. And I would have sent word ahead that we were coming… but I’m afraid there just wasn’t time.” She reached up and adjusted the section of mane hiding her face.

Something about the gesture made Celestia pause. “Is something wrong,” she finally asked, the mirth leaving her voice. “At first you mentioned requiring my help, and now you make it sound as though time is of the essence. Has… something happened to your hive?”

The changeling queen flinched harshly, and Celestia could see the morose expressions on the rest of her group. Now convinced that something was terribly wrong, she studied them closer.

Her eyes squinted. There was some kind of marking on their coats, though it was difficult to see. She gasped. Were those… BURNS?

Composing herself, Chrysalis lifted a hoof and pushed her mane away. Previously hidden, a ruined and empty socket lay where he right eye had been.

“Our hive is gone,” she said. “Burned to the ground… by something that looked like one of your ponies.”

Author's Note

Alright, chapter ten's done and dusted. Not the best place for an ending I know, but the next viable spot would have put this sucker up past 20k words, and nobody wants that. Anyway, hope everyone enjoys, and as always let me know if if you catch any spelling or grammatical mistakes that I missed.

Now, as promised, I'm off to start getting chapter 2 of The Twisted Pony busted out. Wish me luck!