Chapters Lucien fetched a number of books filled with lore about Nightmare Night and Nightmare Moon for her to peruse. She sat at a reading table and flipped through book after book with her magic, skimming through them, sometimes stopping to read a passage more carefully, and her mood grew ever more sullen — to the point where a dark cloud began gathering over her head. When Lucien saw that she would be at this for a while, he set about occupying himself by shelving some books.
After some time a raven flew in through the open doors of the library, and alighted on the back of a chair, and announced itself in a raspy voice, “Hi, Lucien!” Then the raven flicked a wing in the direction of Nightmare Moon and asked, “So this is the new nightmare, huh? Wow, she looks the part! I really like her mane.” Nightmare looked up from her books and perked up her ears at the raven.
Lucien ruffled his feathers slightly and said, “Err, yes… I suppose she does look the part. Nightmare Moon, this is Lord Dream’s personal raven, Matthew.”
“Personal raven?” she echoed.
Matthew answered, “From what everyone tells me, it’s an old tradition. The boss has gotta have a raven, it goes with the job. Anyhow, mostly he just has me fly around and carry messages. Like right now, I’m supposed to tell you Nuala’s got your room ready.”
Hovering in the blue aura of Nightmare’s magic, a hefty tome snapped shut and floated onto a stack of other books, where it was released. She said, “I suppose these will wait. For now, I’ve had about all I can stomach of such blatant defamation.”
Lucien said, “Well then, if you have no more questions for me, perhaps Matthew could lead you to your quarters.” Nightmare Moon assented, and she departed the library with Matthew fluttering ahead of her.
As they went down yet another indistinguishable hallway, Nightmare wondered aloud, “How does one navigate in this castle? It seems disorienting.”
“You’ll get used to it. I can give you a few tips, though. First thing is, forget about using logic. You’ve got to follow your gut — I mean, you know, intuition. And the other thing is, stay on the path until you get to wherever you’re heading. If you go poking your nose into random rooms, well… There’s some stuff that can mess you up bad. Raw dreamstuff, even. Only the boss can work with that.”
“Ah. That would be his special talent, I assume.”
“Yeah, I guess so. Whatever. Oh, hey! There’s Mervyn Pumpkinhead! Let’s see what he’s up to, huh?” The raven flapped ahead to an intersection of hallways, and Nightmare Moon increased her pace to catch up. She found him perched on the head of a marble bust, chatting with some of the strangest creatures she’d yet seen. Leading the crew was what appeared to be an animated scarecrow with a jack o’lantern for his head. His body seemed nothing more than a framework of broomsticks with clothes loosely hung over them: a white shirt, blue overalls, and a pair of green gardener’s gloves with fingers that flopped limply, yet were somehow capable of grasping objects. His face was carved into the pumpkin in the typical way of a jack o’lantern, yet his mouth moved when he spoke, and the eye holes also changed shape easily to create varying expressions.
Fluttering around him were several brown bats. Nightmare Moon smiled at the sight, as she always considered bats to be cute and friendly little animals. Then she did a double-take as she noticed each of these bats was wearing a tiny bowler hat and smoking a tiny cigar. Bringing up the rear was a large and muscular gray stallion wearing a heavy horse collar, harnessed to a cart that was loaded with bricks and bags of mortar.
Matthew was already talking to the scarecrow, saying, “Hey, Merv. I got a job for ya. There’s a new nightmare moving in.”
Mevyn took a puff from his cigarette, which resulted in smoke curling back out through his mouth and eye openings. “What, like I ain’t already got a day’s work in front of me? Cripes! It’s Mervyn, build an ocean over here, knock down the city under the willow tree over there. And incidentally, Mervyn, this time remember that ice is customarily cold.” He took another puff and then pointed at Nightmare Moon with the cigarette. “So who’s the new guy?”
Nightmare Moon snarled, “Guy? We are no ‘guy’. We are a princess of Equestria, thou dullard!”
Mervyn’s eyes widened and he raises his glove-hands in a placating gesture. “Whoa, hold your horses, your worshipfulness! I didn’t mean nothin’ by it. Sheesh.”
Nightmare gritted her teeth and held back the first sharp reply that came to mind. After a moment she said, more calmly, “We understand that we are new here, and that the inhabitants of this realm are steeped in ignorance of pony kind; therefore, we shall make some allowances.” She stepped closer and snorted in Mervyn’s face, and continued, “But we shall expect thee to learn quickly. Dost thou understand?”
Mervyn gulped and took a step back. “Sh… sure, I got it, Princess. No problemo.”
Matthew interrupted their exchange, desperate to change the subject. “Anyhow, Merv… Nightmare Moon is staying here in one of the guest rooms for now. But Nuala said she’s gonna work as a nightmare. You got an old creepy castle or something in the Nightmare Realm that she can use?”
Mervyn chuckled and said, “Does the pope shit in the woods? We got creepy old castles like you wouldn’t believe.” He swiveled his pumpkin head to look at the big gray stallion and asked, “You can pull one outta storage, can’t you, Abudah?”
“Ayuh!” rumbled the stallion with a nod of his head. Nightmare focused her eyes on Abudah and favored him with a thin smile. He met her gaze just for a moment, then suddenly developed a keen interest in examining the floor around his front hooves.
Matthew nodded and then said, “I figure you could put her home just over the border into the Nightmare Realm, close to Cain and Abel’s houses. The boss’ll want her close by where he can keep an eye on her.”
Mervyn grumped, “Oh jeez Matthew, that’s primo real estate. What am I gonna do, shuffle the whole damn geography to fit a castle in there? The boss can keep an eye on her anywhere in the Dreaming. All he’s got to do is twitch his nose, or whatever, and he’s there. But no… It’s easier for him if ol’ Mervyn Pumpkinhead busts his gourd moving hills and castles around.”
Nightmare Moon peered at Mervyn curiously. “Thou speakest of thy lord and master with such insolence?” she asked.
“Hey, I’m a straightforward kinda guy. I mean, some of us aren’t afraid to call a spade a goddamn shovel. You ever want to hear the straight dope around here, missy, you just come and ask Mervyn Pumpkinhead.” He called over his shoulder, “Ain’t that right, Abudah?”
“Ayuh!” rumbled the burly stallion.
“Anyhow, it’s been fun, but we can’t hang around yakking all day. Some of us have real jobs to get back to. C’mon, Abudah!”
“Ayuh…” grumbled Abudah, and he started pulling the cart.
Nightmare Moon drew in a sharp breath and glared at Mervyn as he sauntered off down the hallway with the bats fluttering around his head. She hissed, “I didn’t dismiss him.”
Matthew ruffled his wings and said, “Manners and protocol aren’t really Mervyn’s thing. And, well… Don’t take this the wrong way, lady, but there’s only one boss in The Dreaming, and you ain’t him.” He glanced at Nightmare’s face and noticed, with some alarm, her sullen expression and another dark cloud starting to gather. He added, “Maybe we should get you settled into your room. This way!” He took wing, and she followed.
Time in The Dreaming is an elusive, ill-defined concept. Nightmare Moon settled into her chambers, doffed her armor, and slept a sort of unsatisfying, dreamless sleep of indeterminate duration, then roused and went to seek breakfast in the castle’s dining hall. Thus she reckoned it was “the next day” (or perhaps more accurately “the next night”) when Lucien approached her. She noticed a nervous looking colt following at his side as he came to her table.
Nightmare lowered the fork she’d been levitating and dabbed her mouth with a napkin to clean away traces of syrup. Contrary to the horrible tales she’d read in Lucien’s library, she was not in the habit of feasting on the blood of innocent ponies — though she suspected that Taramis would have been happy to provide exactly that, if she’d asked. Cinnamon-oat pancakes were probably more filling anyhow.
Seeing that he had her attention, Lucien said, “If it pleases my lady, Lord Dream would like to see you started in your new job. To that effect he has assigned another nightmare to show you the ropes, as it were. May I introduce the Vermin Kid?” With a wing he nudged the gray colt forward.
“Hi,” said the colt.
Nightmare Moon nodded politely and even forced a weak smile. Breakfast had improved her mood, and she saw no reason not to be amiable. She said, “We are pleased to make thine acquaintance, young pony — GAAAH! ” She jumped back from the table, wide-eyed, her hooves scuffing across the stone floor, wings flaring out.
The colt looked at her with his mouth hanging open. “Is something wrong?”
She stared. A rat peered back at her from inside the colt’s mouth. She winced and pointed at him with a hoof and said, “You have a… a…” She pointed at her own mouth.
The colt closed his mouth and gulped, and then said, “Oh yeah. That’s why they call me the Vermin Kid. It’s no big deal, really.” A large cockroach crawled out of a hole in the underside of his jaw, scurried around his muzzle and then burrowed into a nostril and disappeared.
Lucien added, “As I said, the Vermin Kid is a nightmare. He is not intended to be a comforting dream. Nonetheless, I believe you will find him conscientious and helpful. If you are ready to get started, I could have someone fetch your armor.”
Nightmare Moon turned her eyes away from the Kid and answered, “That will not be necessary.” Her horn flared with a midnight blue aura as she cast conjuration and her armor flashed into existence before her. She levitated her helmet and gorget into place, and stepped into her sabatons.
The Vermin Kid led her out of the castle and down a winding path through a barren landscape under a murky sky. His pace was leisurely. After a time Nightmare Moon asked, “How far is it?”
The colt shrugged. “Dunno. A ways.”
It wasn’t much longer before they passed a weedy field of moss-stained tombstones. More graveyards were visible up ahead, and a pair of large, Victorian styled houses. The colt pointed and said, “That there is the House of Mysteries where Cain lives, and over there is his brother Abel’s House of Secrets. They’re some of the oldest dreams, and they know lots of things. And when we get past their houses, we’ll enter the Nightmare Realm.”
They sauntered on past the two houses, and the sky became gray, the air more chill. A dark castle loomed on the horizon, though it seemed incomplete. Nightmare Moon frowned and said, “Is that to be my new home?”
“I guess. It looks like they’re still working on it. Let’s go see!” They picked up their pace and followed the path to the castle entrance.
There they found Mervyn and his construction crew, plus the Fashion Thing. Abudah was harnessed up with a web of ropes leading to one of the castle towers. The Fashion Thing trotted back and forth, tail swishing as though flies were biting her. She stopped and stared at the tower and said, “No, no, no! That won’t do at all. Now the castle’s facade isn’t symmetrical. The towers need to be balanced like a pair of strong shoulders to project a sense of strength and intimidate all who approach.” She pointed. “You have to move the other one.”
Mervyn groaned. “Come on, Maddie, give me a break! We’ve been moving this stuff around for hours. What does it matter if the tower is a few feet one way or the other? Nobody is gonna care.”
Maddie huffed, “Oh, nobody is going to care? Is that what you think, you philistine? Well, I see the Princess is here. Let’s ask her if she cares how her new home looks!” She trotted over to Nightmare Moon and bowed down. “Your Majesty!”
Nightmare nodded warily. “Fashion Thing… I was not aware you were involved in construction.”
“She’s not!” yelled Mervyn.
“Normally I’m not,” Maddie admitted, “but after meeting you yesterday, well, I knew you would need someone with a sense of style to help get your new home in order. These louts would have saddled you with a mere generic dream castle like dozens of others. Those are not fit for a princess!”
Nightmare just stared at the one-eyed, rainbow-maned pony.
Maddie shuffled her hooves uncomfortably and added, “Of course it would be my greatest pleasure to decorate the interior as well. That was what I had in mind when I came here, but then I saw what these ruffians were doing with the outside, and, well… I just couldn’t stand by and watch.”
Nightmare glanced over at Mervyn, who was sitting on a stump, puffing on his cigarette and grumbling to himself. Her lips quirked in a sly smile, and she said to Maddie, but loud enough for all to hear, “It is well that thou hast cometh to my aid. We trust that Mervyn shalt giveth thee any and all assistance.”
Mervyn groaned while Maddie broke into a grin and said, “Oh thank you, Your Majesty! You won’t be disappointed, I promise.”
Mervyn slapped his forehead and then stomped over to Abudah and said, “Let’s get you hitched up to the other tower.”
“Ayuh,” sighed Abudah with a resigned tone.
“We shall expect everything to be in good order by the time we return!” added Nightmare Moon. Then she nudged the Vermin Kid with a wing, and they continued along the path.
It was only a short walk before they encountered smaller buildings alongside the road. “Now we’re coming into Anytown,” the Kid explained.
“How descriptive.”
“Places get mixed up a lot in The Dreaming. Sometimes it’s better not to try and keep track of which town is which. They all sort of run together and make up Anytown.”
Nightmare Moon looked around appraisingly. It didn’t look all that different from the town she had first landed in after returning from her exile in the moon. What had it been called? Ponyburg? She hadn’t paid much attention at the time.
A few ponies were about, though they seemed to be wandering aimlessly with dazed expressions. Nightmare eyed a couple of them and wondered what she was supposed to do here.
The Kid said, “It’s easier to show how things work than to explain it. Just follow along and watch me! There’s some dreamers now.”
The colt walked over to a few ponies who were standing and talking near a cafe. “Hi Guys!” he said.
The adults glanced at him, and one stallion said, “Hi, kid.” Then his gaze wandered to the large, black, armored alicorn standing close by, and he did a double-take. “Holy Celestia, that’s Nightmare Moon!” His companions whinnied and reared, eyes wide.
“Holy Celestia?” Nightmare Moon snarled. “HOLY CELESTIA? THERE’S NOTHING HOLY ABOUT MY SISTER, YOU CRETINS! I’LL SHOW YOU HOLY HELL! ” Her shout stunned the ponies (Vermin Kid included), almost knocking them off their feet. The dreamers quickly recovered and scattered, fleeing in different directions.
Nightmare wasn’t going to let it end that easily, so she spread her wings and took off after the one that had spoken. Her horn flared with midnight blue, the aura reaching out and slamming the stallion to the ground. She landed over him. Looking down upon him, her features twisted with rage, she raised an armored hoof. “I’ll show you who is your rightful ruler!” He cringed in abject terror as she brought down her hoof on him — and with a poof of vapor he was gone.
Nightmare blinked and stepped back. “What? Where did he go?”
The Vermin Kid trotted up to her. He gushed, “That was awesome! I’ve never seen ponies run like that. You ought to give me lessons. You’re amazing.”
Nightmare gawped. After a moment she said, “I was supposed to do that? Where did the stallion go? How did he get away?”
“He woke up,” the kid explained. “Dreamers disappear when they wake up, and they go back to the waking world. They always wake up if you scare them bad enough. And that’s cool too, because they forget most dreams, but they remember if you scare them awake.”
“I… I forgot that it was a dream. That’s it? That’s my job, to jump out at ponies and scare them?”
“Um… Something like that.” He scuffed his hoof on the ground. Nightmare winced as she noticed shapes moving around under his skin — mice crawling around, as near as she could tell. He went on to say, “I’m not great at explaining stuff, but the way I was told, it’s like our job is to warn them about stuff.”
“Warn them about what, exactly?”
“Um. Maybe that’s the wrong word. It’s more like training. It’s like… Okay, maybe somepony dreams about a manticore, right? A manticore is chasing him. And then someday he’s out in the woods in the waking world, and he runs into a manticore — or some kinda monster, it doesn’t have to be the same — and he’s kinda ready for it, because he’s done this before, right?”
“Because he remembers the dream?”
“Yeah! I mean, no! They don’t remember most of the dreams, but it sticks in their subconscious mind. So they probably don’t remember, but it’s like they’ve already practiced running from monsters. It’s like conditioning.”
She pondered that for a few moments, then looked at the Vermin Kid again and asked, “Do they run from you?”
The Kid suddenly sneezed, spraying some wriggling maggots onto the ground, then wiped his nose with his pastern. “Not usually. I’m not really that kind of a monster. I mostly just creep ponies out. Different nightmares warn ponies about different kinds of things. I make them more wary towards nasty stuff, mostly, like diseases and parasites.”
Nightmare scowled. “Somehow I had expected to perform a function with deeper meaning. Running about acting as some sort of mere bogeymare, like a fairy tale villain, is beneath my station.”
Nightmare Moon followed the Vermin Kid as he navigated the town’s streets with confidence, though their path seemed random to her. A few ponies reacted to Nightmare’s presence with fear, just as the first stallion had done, but most barely seemed to notice her. “You aren’t the focus of their dreams,” the Kid explained. “To them you’re just a weird figure in the background. When you get used to it, the Dreaming will guide you to the right dreamers, or them to you. A little of both, really.”
Distracted, Nightmare was startled when a small pony collided with her, bumping into her forelegs. She looked down to see a peach colored pegasus filly. Annoyed, Nightmare chided her, “Mind thyself, foal!”
The filly gulped, eyes wide and screamed in a truly piercing tone (in the way that only fillies can), “EeeeeeeEEEEE!! Nightmare Moon’s gonna gobble me!” She turned and sprinted away as fast as her little hooves could take her.
Nightmare stared after the fleeing filly, her face a mask. The Kid asked, “Aren’t you gonna chase after her?”
“What? No! No, I most certainly am not going to chase foals. I’ll not play the role that my sister wrote for me in her horrible stories.”
The Kid frowned. “I think you’re supposed to chase them. I mean, Lord Morpheus might not like it if you don’t.”
Nightmare Moon snorted and stamped a hoof on the ground for emphasis. “If he objects, he can tell me so himself, but my answer will be the same.”
The Kid’s eyes went wide at the idea of anyone challenging the Dream King. “Wow. Okay then. Uh…” He looked around, uncertainly. A dull thumping sound came from a nearby building. He nodded toward it. “Maybe we could go to the club, check out the nightlife?”
Nightmare quirked an eyebrow. “Night? Life?”
“Yeah, it’ll be fun.” He led the way to the plain gray building with a metal door that only had TECH NOIR painted on it. The Kid rapped on the door with a hoof. In a moment it opened, and he went inside with Nightmare following.
They were in a small entryway with a couple of wide doorways going into a darkened area, from which emanated a loud, thumping beat and some flashes of colored light. A gray stallion moved to block the Kid’s way, though. “Hay! You don’t belong in here!” he accused.
“What? I’m older than I look, really.”
“Like I haven’t heard that before!” He squinted at the colt, then his face contorted with disgust. “Oh cripes, what’s the matter with you? You’re sick or something.” He snorted and shook his head. “You ain’t comin’ in here. Beat it! Scram!”
The Kid backed up several steps, then turned and reared up on his hind legs to whisper to Nightmare Moon, who lowered her head to accommodate. “Can you do that thing like in Star Wars to get us past this guy?”
Nightmare nodded. “Of course, child.” She smiled and stepped forward, and nodded toward the stallion. Her horn lit up with an aura of ultramarine blue, and searing white fingers of lightning shot forth from it to strike the stallion. His bellow of surprise was cut short as the lightning bolts knocked him off his feet and he crumpled to the floor. After only a couple of seconds the lightning dissipated, leaving him in an unmoving, smoldering heap. “Easily done!” Nightmare commented, looking pleased with herself.
The Vermin Kid bit his lip and then mumbled, “Not the thing I was thinking of.”
“Come along!” Nightmare ordered. “I wish to see this ‘night life’ of which you spoke.” She strode through one of the doorways, and the Kid trailed after.
The floor of the club was dark, smoky, crowded with oscillating pony bodies, and a loudly pulsating noise pattern that Nightmare Moon guessed might possibly be related to ‘music’, albeit loosely. She lowered her muzzle to Vermin Kid’s ear and yelled, “WHAT ARE THEY DOING?”
“DANCING!” he yelled back.
Nightmare Moon stared at the ponies around her, who seemed to be having spastic fits, and tried to correlate their motions with any sort of dance she’d ever known — and failed. As she watched them, she felt a sudden bump on her royal flank. Her startled reflex was to kick, but her hoof failed to connect. Annoyed, she looked back to see a chubby stallion. “SORRY, DUDE!” he yelled, then did a double-take as he realized this very large, black pony was not a ‘dude’ at all. Nightmare glared back at him, and an aura began to gather around her horn, but the other pony scurried and was lost in the crowd.
The music (if it could be called such) faded and an amplified voice boomed, “We’ve got a crowd tonight! Hey, is that Nightmare Moon? You’re little early for Nightmare Night. I got no candy, but DJ P0N-3 can lay down some sick beats for ya! Get a load of this…” Nightmare glanced over the heads of the other ponies to identify the DJ, a white unicorn mare with a short shock of blue hair for a mane, and eyes concealed by purple shades. Her horn glowed as she manipulated vinyl records and a pair of turntables.
A scratchy sound came from the deck, and the DJ gritted her teeth. She applied a tiny extra nudge of magic, trying to get the needle to slot into the groove, but instead it went skating across the record. Zzzz-ZZZT! Many in the crowd groaned, while others laughed. The DJ chuckled nervously into her microphone. “Just a second, folks! I’m on this.” A feedback squeal rang out, prompting more groans and a few boos from the crowd.
The Vermin Kid nudged Nightmare Moon and told her, “Machines usually don’t work right in dreams. This must be the DJ’s nightmare, messing up in front of everypony.”
Nightmare Moon growled, “I can see that. I know how dreams work.” With that she vanished, her body dissolved into dark smoke and swirled around the hooves of the crowd, flowing up to the stage. The smoke cloud coalesced behind the DJ and reformed into Nightmare Moon. DJ P0N-3 was still struggling, apparently trying to work the equipment with her hooves and mouth since her magic wasn’t cooperating. Nightmare floated a record over and said, “I have a request.”
The DJ lifted up her shades with a hoof, blinked her ruby red eyes at the record, but the label was blank. “I can’t… I’m having a little trouble here, give me a minute?”
Nightmare smiled and pushed the record closer. “Use your magic, it’ll work now. You’ll see.”
The unicorn took it in her own magic and moved it onto the turntable and set down the needle. The music that poured out was definitely not her usual jam, more like some sort of goth stuff , but at least everything was running again. “Hey, uh… thanks!” She looked around, but Nightmare Moon had already vanished again.
The door of TECH NOIR swung open, and oily black smoke poured out to the street, then formed once again into the shape of Nightmare Moon. She took a deep breath of night air and mused, “It’s been a long time since I’ve meddled in the dreams of others. A thousand years, but now it’s coming back to me.”
She spread her wings and took flight, lofting higher and higher above Anytown. The Dreaming will guide you to the right dreamers, the Kid had said. There was only one dreamer that Nightmare Moon wanted to see. Her horn glowed softly as she cast a spell extending her senses.
Was the one she sought even asleep now? What time was it in the waking world? Perhaps it didn’t matter. Nightmare Moon had become a dream. What did time even mean to her anymore?
There. Some subtle impulse crossed her senses, inexplicable and unknowable to one not versed in dream magic. She spread her wings and soared like a buzzard on the scent of a carcass.
As she soared the dishwater skies above the Sunless Lands, Nightmare Moon was glad she’d left the Vermin Kid behind. He could look after himself, and she needed a bit of time and privacy to clear her head. She pondered.
During her tenure as Princess of the Night she’d developed some measure of power in dreams. She’d been able to enter them, observe and influence them. And yet, her perspective had always been limited. She’d always been an intruder in this world, even though a puissant one. Now it was different. She was seeing the entire world of dreams from the other side. She was in the troupe now, rather than the audience.
She gazed down at the surreal, moonlit landscape passing below. In some ways, she reflected, her new viewpoint was like the difference between flying and walking. The landmarks were the same, but from above one could see so much more. And yet, for one new to flight, even the most familiar landmarks could be hard to recognize — everything looked so different from above.
What am I? The question nagged her. A ghost? “If even that,” Lucien had said. A figment of the imagination, in a realm defined by its own unreality? Long ago she’d studied philosophy. Very little of it had stuck, if she was honest with herself, but she remembered this: I think, therefore I am.
She narrowed her eyes and set her jaw with determination. I have some kind of existence, however tenuous. As long as there’s life — or even some semblance of life — there’s hope for me. I won’t give it up!
The magical scent was getting stronger. She was drawing closer to one who might answer the riddle of her existence, or at least provide another piece of the puzzle. Nightmare Moon slowed her flight, circling on an updraft. She would have to approach with caution. This dreamer, she knew, was canny in the ways of the dream world.
Cain fumed, as he often did. “Blistering idiot! How long can it take you to move a piece?”
Abel rocked a bit in his chair, staring at the game board. “Hmm… I just… I’m still thuh-thinking.”
“Thinking, is it? Is that what you call what you do with that lump of tapioca that fills the space between your ears?”
Abel started to reach for a piece, but then drew back and shook his head.
Cain quivered with outrage. “You sponge-wit! After I’ve done you the favor of inviting myself over to your shabby domicile, this is the hospitality you show? Quit stalling, blubber-belly!”
Abel gulped and started to reach for a piece again, but was interrupted by muffled thumps. They both looked up. “What’s that?” Cain asked.
“I, uh… I think it’s someone at the door. Well, something at the door, anyway…”
Cain went tromping down the stairs, and Abel trailed behind. He called, “Buh-brother? Wait! D-don’t you think we ought to, uh, hmm, wait for a while? I, uh… I mmm… I mean, maybe it’ll go away on its own?”
In a few moments they were at the front door. Cain spoke loudly, “Who’s there? Who is it?”
“AAWURGHK!!” came the reply.
Cain nodded. “That sounds like Gregory. He must have trailed me here. Let him in!”
“Err, umm… Shouldn’t you? I muh-mean, uh, since he’s your gargoyle.”
“And this is your house, you chicken-hearted milksop! Now go and answer your front door!” He gave Abel a shove towards the door.
Abel gulped, then reached for the double doors and pulled, swinging them open. Entirely filling the large portal hulked a green-scaled beast with fleshy spines running down its back, and a pair of undersized wings. It was carrying something — something black, clutched in its jaws and its massive, clawed hands.
The brothers blinked, trying to make sense of the dark shape. It was Abel who called it first. “It’s, um… some kind of a, a huh-horse?”
Gregory turned loose the limbs he’d been holding, and spat out the midnight blue mane, dropping the creature onto the floor with a thud like a sack of potatoes. The creature stirred a little, a cyan-blue eye flickering half open. It weakly rasped, “help me… please…”
When Nightmare Moon came to her senses, she slowly realized she was laying upon a bed, her armor gone, her usually spectral starry mane turned solid blue. She tried to turn her head to get a better look at her surroundings, but a jolt of pain forced a brief, stifled shriek from her. She couldn’t recall ever feeling so weak and sore. Instead of moving, she sniffed at the air. It smelled musty, like lost dreams and rotten fabric.
A light flickered, a candle flame. This time forcing herself to ignore the stiffness and soreness, Nightmare Moon turned her head to see who approached. Clutching the base of the candle holder in his teeth, a stallion with rust-red coat and shiny black mane drew near. He set his candle on the side table and said, “Huh-hello?”
“Where am I?” she breathed, barely more than a whisper.
“This is my House of Secrets. I’m Abel. Gregory, uhm — that’s my brother Cain’s gargoyle — hmmm, he brought you here. He found you in the, uh, shifting zones. Whuh-what’s your name?”
“It’s…” She hesitated. She had to fight down an impulse to say Luna. It was a name she’d wanted to leave behind, but now that it was no longer hers to claim, she felt a pang of loss. She sighed and said, “It’s Nightmare Moon.”
“Nightmare Moon. I like that. Hmm… Let me fix you, uh, something to eat. And I’ll tell my buh-brother you’re awake.” He hurried out of the room, though he left the candle.
She lay unmoving, a dull, tolerable ache throbbing through her body. The stillness was comforting, almost pleasant. In her mind, though, she was trying to piece together the jumble of what had happened to her and what it all meant.
The tromp of hooves announced the return of Abel and his brother. Abel had a tray balanced on his back. “Can you, uh… sit up?” he asked.
“I’ll try,” she muttered. She found she could still move as long as she gritted her teeth against the soreness of every muscle. After some struggle, with Abel trying rather ineffectually to help, she managed to sit up in bed, awkwardly, with her head propped against some pillows. Then she got her first good look at her host and his brother.
As she’d noticed before, Abel was a stocky, chubby pony with a rust-red coat and shiny black mane, and she now saw his cutie mark: a magnifying glass. Black hairs around his muzzle sketched out a thin mustache and beard. Cain was taller, lanky, camel brown with an orange mane and a matching goatee sprouting from his chin like a worn-out paintbrush, as well as a white, comma-like mark on his forehead (unusual among ponies) and a pair of spectacles with small, round lenses perched upon his muzzle. His cutie mark was a dagger with blood dripping from it.
Abel moved a tray table onto the bed and set the food onto it. “Thuh-there you go. I hope it’s, uh, something you like.” He lifted away the cover to reveal a bowl of oatmeal with apple slices and a glass of red grape juice.
Nightmare Moon sniffed, then focused her magic — weak though it was — and managed to levitate the juice with only a slight wobble and take a sip. She nodded. “Yes… Thank you, Abel!” Next she looked up to the taller pony. “And you must be…”
He bowed. “Cain, milady! Purveyor of penny dreadfuls, shilling shockers, blood and thunders and fust-rate nightmares!”
“It seems I owe you both much.”
“I’m sure that being able to assist is nothing but a pleasure for both of us. Especially for my fat ninny of a brother, since this is the only way he’d ever get a lady to visit him! Haha!”
Nightmare frowned and glanced to Abel, but he paid no heed to the insult. Instead he said, “Come on, let’s, umm, give her some time to eat?”
“I suppose we should. Lady, if you require anything just call and Abel will be here in a snap. Won’t you?”
“Of course, of course! But we can, uh, finish our game while she eats? Muh-maybe?”
“Oh yes, the game.” With a sly smile Cain turned and left the room, and Abel followed.
Nightmare Moon sighed and levitated the spoon and tried the oatmeal, grateful she could at least maintain the dignity of eating with her magic. The food was good, and she began to feel a little stronger.
She wondered why dream food gave her strength. Why did dream muscles feel weak and sore? Was it all just a metaphor for the psychic beatdown she took from the real Princess Luna? “You still retain the semblance of life,” Lucien had said. It was quite the persistent illusion, she mused.
She looked down at herself and frowned inwardly. Although her mane and tail had become solid again, the rest of her hadn’t changed. This form, this imposing black body with dragon eyes, had been a glamour, a sort of magical costume. When she was knocked out, weakened, the disguise should have failed and returned her real shape and appearance. It should have turned her back into Luna. But it couldn’t do that now, could it? She wasn’t Luna anymore. “This is the real me now.” The thought gave her no comfort.
After a time Abel and Cain returned. “Feeling better? I hope?” Abel asked, as he collected the food tray.
“Yes, somewhat.”
Cain spoke up, “I’d heard gossip of your arrival in The Dreaming. I must admit some surprise that you’ve managed to get in trouble so soon.” The question was implicit.
She sighed and explained. “I sought out my former self, Princess Luna. She still lives, and she still dreams. I found her, confronted her… But she’s different now, in thrall to my abusive sister. Luna did not react well to my entreaties — to put it mildly. And thus, after the magical explosion, I found myself here.”
Abel prompted, “Hmm… Your, uh, former self?”
“It’s a long story, but the short of it is: I was Princess Luna of Equestria until I invented this, for lack of a better word, persona that I called Nightmare Moon. Everypony thought Luna was weak, timid, unimportant, a mere shadow of their beloved Princess Sola. So… Nightmare Moon would be strong and confident. She would command respect, and demand her due as ruler of Equestria.” She looked down at her hooves. “But my sister somehow corrupted the Elements of Harmony, the most powerful artifacts we possess, and turned them against me — twice. The first time I was banished into the moon for a thousand years. The second time, well… I ended up like this. Somehow they split me apart into two ponies, into Luna and Nightmare Moon. Luna still lives back in Equestria, while I am… whatever I am now. I’m still figuring that out.”
Cain grunted and gave a slight nod. “It’s not entirely unknown for some people to persist in both the waking world and in the world of dreams, though I’ve never heard of it happening quite the way you describe.”
Abel fidgeted and asked, “So, hmm… What will you do now, I wuh-wunder? When you’re feeling, uh, better, I mean?”
Nightmare Moon looked up at him and started to say, “I…” She paused with her mouth open for a couple of seconds. “I don’t know. I thought I could bring Luna back to her senses, but it feels like she almost destroyed me. Whatever is left of me, I mean. I dare not try that again.”
Cain smirked. “I heard that our fearless leader, the Prince of Stories, assigned you to nightmare duty. So, you have employment and a bit of psychic real estate in which to hang your hat. It’s not so bad.”
Her face darkened. “Jumping out of the shadows to scare passerby? Chasing colts and fillies and threatening to gobble them up? That will not be my fate, I swear!”
The brothers glanced at one another. Cain shook his head, a subtle gesture that Nightmare didn’t overlook. He looked to her and said, cautiously, “Perhaps you can figure something out. Just remember, though, that Lord Morpheus has absolute power in the Dreaming, and whatever you do must satisfy him. The purpose of a nightmare is to instill fear in the dreamers, steeling them for the inevitable, sharp vicissitudes of the waking world.”
Abel spoke up, “That’s not all dreams can do, though! I mean, umm… I mean, you can inspire…”
“SHUT IT!” shouted Cain. “You pusillanimous, simpering blabbermouth!”
Abel cringed, but then he glanced up at Cain. “It… It’s my huh-house. Erm, the House of Secrets.”
Features distorted in the flickering light, Cain’s face was twisted and grotesque. “That doesn’t mean you can hand secrets out like candy to everyone who passes your door.” He reared up on his hind legs.
Abel pleaded, “No! Please no… Stop it. Cain. Please. NO!! ”
A hoof struck the side of his face with a sickening WHOK. He was staggered as Cain ranted, “Worthless!” WHOK! “Jabbering!” WHOK! “Button-burster!” WHOK!
Nightmare Moon stared in wide-eyed horror. “No… Stop! Stop it!” she called out, but feebly, unable to find her commanding voice. She flailed to get out of bed, but her limbs, still weak, became tangled in sheets. An aura shimmered up and down her horn, but never came together in a coherent spell.
Droplets of blood splashed across her face.
After Cain dragged Abel away (all the while cursing his corpulence), Nightmare Moon lay curled up in bed for a little while, her eyes squeezed shut. When she eventually stirred, she muttered to herself, “I have to get out of here.” She kicked the sheets aside and rolled out of bed, landing on her hooves with a pained groan. With wobbly knees she staggered to the door and summoned just enough magic to swing it open. She paused to blow out the candle, then cast a light from her horn — dim, but enough for her night-sensitive eyes — and hobbled into the hallway.
It was a long hallway. She couldn’t remember being brought in, didn’t know which way led out. She picked a direction and shuffled along. The hallway seemed to sway as her steps wandered from side to side. After what seemed like much too long, she reached the end of the hall. A dirty window presented a bleak view of the graveyard outside. From her vantage point she could tell she was on an upper floor. She regarded the window wistfully. If she had any strength at all, she could have knocked it out and flown away.
She opened a side door, hoping for a stairwell. Instead she found an unfurnished room, apparently only used to store a few items: a dusty stack of books, an old, black, foal buggy, and a large plush tiger that looked like it had been partially burned. Unsettled, she backed out.
Retracing her steps, the hallway seemed even longer going the other way. She noticed an ornate door and gave it a try. She found herself in a study with a writing desk, bookshelves, a fireplace. She paused to look at the painting of a stately, dark alicorn, or so it seemed at first glance. It struck a commanding pose. ”Is that supposed to be me,” she wondered? No… The pony in the painting was deep charcoal gray with luminous green eyes, a tattered green mane and tail, a gnarled horn and insect-like wings.
A chirp distracted her. Peeking out from behind the desk was a tiny face, its color golden-yellow. Nightmare lowered her head for a closer look. “What’s this?” she asked softly.
The little creature waddled forward into view, the claws on its oversized feet clicking on the floor. Its shape was vaguely birdlike, but its skin and bat-like wings bore no feathers. It blinked its weeny rufous eyes and chirped again, curiously. Was this a stratodon hatchling, perhaps, like the ones in the old stories? Nightmare nosed at it and sniffed — and then gasped as it hopped onto her muzzle and scrambled past her horn, settling on top of her head, between her ears. “Awwrk!” it squawked.
Nightmare Moon stifled her first instinct to shake it off. She felt it latch onto her mane as she slowly raised her head. “Ah! Aheh… It seems I have finally gotten a golden crown of my own, though of a most curious fashion.”
“Arkle!” the little creature agreed.
She returned to the long hallway and proceeded down it. She was tiring, and the hall seemed to get longer every time she walked it. Her breath rasped in her throat. She found the stairwell, glared down at it. How had they even gotten her up it, she wondered? Or had they? She had enough experience with dreams to know the interior of the house might have shifted.
She took a deep breath. She could do this. If she went slowly, one step at a time, and always kept three feet on the floor, she thought she could make it down the stairs. She leaned against the bannister railing. She carefully placed one front hoof on the next step down. She shifted her weight to it, lowered herself — faster than she meant, a jolt running up her shoulder. Her new friend’s little claws dug into her mane.
She pushed on, always getting both front feet on the same step before tackling the next one, and doing likewise with her hind feet. It was an awkward, tedious, painfully slow descent. As she started down the final flight of the staircase, she felt she was getting the hang of it. Just about that time came a deep rumble from somewhere below: a groan, a roar, it was hard to characterize beyond saying it was loud, it obviously came from something huge, and it made the house shake.
Nightmare Moon stumbled. Her front legs folded under her, and she shrieked as she went tumbling in a tangle of flailing limbs. The thumps and bumps ended with her in a heap at the base of the steps, while the hatchling fluttered to a much gentler landing nearby, a few black feathers settling around it.
Nightmare moaned out her agony. She made a brief effort to get up, to no avail. She twitched a twinge of despair, ”Is this how the great Nightmare Moon ends — not with a blaze of glory, but a whimper?” She felt a tiny muzzle nosing at her, but she lapsed into semi-conscious delirium.
Time passed, though hard to assess in her condition. She became dimly aware of a raspy voice. “Who’s there?” she muttered, and tried to perk up her ears.
“It’s me, uh… Abel. What happened to you, Miss Moon? errm… I mean, uh, Princess Moon?”
She stirred and opened her eyes. “Abel? I thought you were dead.”
“I was for a while. My brother, he, uh, k-killed me.”
A cyan dragon’s eye focused on him, eyebrow arched skeptically. “Really?”
“I, uh… I got better.”
She noted his pallor, and the bruises and the dark blood still oozing down his face. “Oh. Right. A zombie then. That’s just what I needed.”
Abel shook his head, but winced as a sort of grinding noise came from somewhere in his neck. “Not really. Whenever Cain muh-murders me, I sort of come back to life after a while and start to, hmm, regenerate. Slowly. It, uh… It hurts a lot, but it’s better than staying dead.”
“This happens often?”
“Whenever Cain’s, uh… mad at me, or bored, or just in a lousy m-mood.”
They were both quiet for a few moments. Then she said, “I fell down the stairs.”
“I, uh… guessed that. I’ve been pushed down them enough times. Hmm… I see you met Goldie.” The little animal chirped in recognition of its name.
Nightmare focused an eye on it. “Goldie?”
“It’s my baby gargoyle. Cain g-gave it to me.” He sighed. “I, uh… I wanted to call him Irving, but Cain said gargoyle names always start with G. And then he, uh… you know. He d-did it.”
“Abel… We’re both pretty messed up. Do you think if we work together, that we could get me back to bed?”
“uh… OK, let’s try.”
They both healed and recovered their strength. Lucien stopped by briefly to check on Nightmare Moon. His displeasure over her misadventure with Luna was evident, but he saw she was nowise fit to return to her duties.
After Nightmare Moon was stronger and could move around the house on her own, she partook of supper with Abel in his dining room. She levitated a soup spoon and took a sip. Abel lowered his muzzle to his own soup and slurped it directly from the bowl, in the typical manner of ponies lacking magic.
Nightmare ventured, “So… I’m still curious about what you started to tell me before Cain rudely interrupted.”
“Oh, um… I’m not sure if I should.”
“No? You said yourself, you are the master of this House of Secrets, and your brother isn’t here now.”
“W-well… I suppose… It’s not one of the big secrets. I was just going to say that dreams can inspire, not just frighten. I mean, um… creativity, ideals, goals, solving problems. Just because someone calls you a nightmare, that doesn’t mean it’s the only thing you can do.”
She set down her spoon. “I see. Should I have tried to inspire Luna? Somehow I do not think she was receptive to anything I could have said.”
Abel shook his head. “She knows you too well. There’s nothing you could, hmm, show her that she hasn’t already seen. Seen and, um, rejected, I guess. But you could go to other dreamers.”
Nightmare levitated a pea from her soup bowl and floated it over to Goldie, who snapped it up. “I could inspire other dreamers. But to what purpose? Could I foment unrest against my elder sister? A bit of revenge for my death, and for her many other transgressions against me? It seems… inadequate. Petty, even.”
Abel shrugged and mumbled, “It was only an idea.”
“No, it’s all right. I will have to think upon this. It sounds better than chasing foals. Spiting Sola is preferable to playing the part she wrote for me.”
Abel stared at her and asked, softly, “Your sister… Is she really, uh… Is she really that bad. Did she huh-hurt you?”
She met his gaze with a grim expression. “She never struck me with hoof or horn, but not all hurts are of the body. Living with my sister… Well, it was educational. She was a great teacher in the arts of lying, spying, conspiracy, broken promises, vicious rumors and betrayal.” She looked down into her bowl. “Many days and nights of sleep I lost, torn up with anxiety, wondering what she was scheming and when the other horseshoe would drop. And every time I stood up to her, I second-guessed myself, wondering if it was worth so much pain.”
“Th-that’s awful.”
“It was.” She looked at him again and said, “Abel, you have done me many favors unbidden, and shared with me a secret. May I tell you one?”
“Oh… Please do!”
“When I became Nightmare Moon, I became strong — or, perhaps, merely expressed the strength I’d always had somewhere in me. But strength is a double-edged sword. Being strong means you have one less excuse for inaction. You can no longer say: ‘This is wrong, but I am too weak to do anything about it.’ Then you have to act. It’s a scary thing.”
“Hmm… I see. I hadn’t thought about it that way.”
After the meal they went to the drawing room and Abel showed Nightmare his chess board. She grinned at the sight of it and demanded a game on the spot.
After a little confusion over the opening (there had been changes to the rules over the last thousand years, as Abel explained), Nightmare Moon began to assert her skill and dominate the board with positional play. “This brings back memories,” she mused.
“Do tell?”
“From the time we were small, Sola and I were trained with the knowledge and skills we would need to rule our nation. We were taught games to cultivate a knowledge of logistics, strategy and diplomacy. Some of them were tedious, but a few such games we enjoyed. One of our favorites was Celestial Caesars, or simply Celest as we usually called it. Sola became expert at that game and often defeated me. She once joked that she won so often she should be called Princess Celest. It seemed like a harmless, good-natured taunt at the time. In retrospect, though, it chills me to think she might even then have been planning to shut me out and become the sole ruler of Equestria.”
“And now…” She sighed. “I should have realized sooner that there was no room in her plans for a co-regent. Subordinates, yes, but never an equal. Well, now I imagine she has what she always wanted: a meek and compliant little sister, stripped of all that annoying ambition… independence… self-respect… A puppet that will lick Sola’s hooves and play whatever role she dictates.”
Abel shuffled his hooves “C-could we, uh… talk about something else?”
“I’m sorry. Yes, perhaps we should.” However, they merely lapsed into awkward silence. Nightmare Moon won the game easily.
On the next night Abel stood with Nightmare Moon in the foyer of his home.
Nightmare nuzzled him and said, “Abel! You have shown me great hospitality in my hour of need. I owe you a boon.”
“It… erm… It was my pleasure, ruh-really!”
She smiled. “Even so, do not hesitate to call upon me. Anything that is in my power, you need only ask.”
“So, you’re, uh… going back to your castle now?”
“Yes. I still haven’t even seen the interior, but it should be ready for me by this time. I do need to make a proper entrance of it.” Her horn glowed and, with a small ‘pop’, she conjured a compact and small brush and dabbed her eyelids with purple eye shadow while Abel shuffled his hooves and looked away. She smiled slyly, amused by his discomfort.
She dispelled the makeup and conjured her set of armor with a considerably larger ‘pop’. She stepped into her sabatons, then levitated her gorget into place. As it settled around her neck, her mane and tail flared to life, transforming in a moment from midnight blue hair to an etherial, star-speckled cloud. “Oh, I’ve missed that!” she chuckled. She levitated her helmet onto her head at last, and then posed, wings lifted on display. “How do I look?”
He gulped. “Uh… Amazing!” He’d never seen Nightmare Moon in her full glory until then, and she was a far cry from the battered and beaten pony Gregory had dropped in a heap upon his doorstep
She lowered her wings and stepped closer, and nuzzled his mane, prompting him to blush. “My new home is close by, we are practically neighbors. I will see you again erelong.”
“I… I’d like that. Buh-bye! Good luck!”
“Fare well, Abel!” The door swung open by her magic, and she trotted out, spread her wings and took flight.
Nightmare moon circled in the sky above her castle, gazing down upon it. It was not a large and sprawling castle, nor was it an ornate palace, but its design followed the classical quadrangular form: a square footprint with a round tower at each corner and a square tower in the center of each wall, save the north wall which contained the gatehouse and drawbridge. A wide moat, practically a small lake, surrounded the castle, with a causeway and an octagonal island providing access. Ages ago, in the time of her youth, such castles had been all the rage among high ranking nobility of the unicorn race, providing both military defense and comfortable lodging for the lord’s family.
Thankfully, this castle lacked the garish colored paint of hearts and rainbows that those lords had all-too-often slathered over their homes, presumably at the insistence of the lady unicorn of the house.
All the buildings related to the castle’s daily function — residences, store rooms, kitchens, the well, workshops, the armory, the great hall and more — lined the interior of the defensive walls, leaving an open courtyard in the center. It was toward this that Nightmare Moon directed her glide path.
A cry of alarm wafted up from below, and she saw shapes scurrying around the courtyard. By the time she flared her wings and came to a graceful landing, the servants stood side-by-side to greet her. Nuala curtsied in her peculiar, bipedal manner. The Vermin Kid bowed in pony fashion. Around them were half a dozen nightgaunts, which merely cowered submissively when she turned her gaze on them. More nightgaunts remained perched upon the castle’s towers like spindly gargoyles.
Nightmare Moon eyed the nightgaunts with both wonder and wariness. In her former life as Princess of the Night she’d known that such creatures existed, but not much more than that. She’d never seen one up close before. They were almost her own size, though seemingly emaciated — almost skeletal — in build. She noted their hide was hairless, black and oily, as were their bat-like wings. Instead of hooves they had long, grasping talons. Long tails were segmented like a scorpion’s tail with a barb at the end. A pair of knurled horns twisted above each head.
Most disturbing, though, was the lack of anything that most would regard as a “face”. There was a blank area vaguely suggestive of a face, but no visible nose or mouth or eyes. Though not often bothered by things other ponies considered creepy, even Nightmare Moon felt somewhat unsettled.
She concealed her discomfort, though, and turned to Nuala and the Kid. “Rise!” she commanded. They did so. After a few moments of awkward silence she asked, “Is this my entire castle staff? Only the two of you, and these… things?”
The two she addressed glanced at one another, each hoping the other would answer, but then Nuala noticed Nightmare was looking right at her. She eeped softly and said, “For now, yes, your majesty. We’re terribly short-handed, but Lord Morpheus said you can recruit more dreams if you meet any that you want. umm… Within reason. Oh, and the nightgaunts will defend your castle in the meantime.”
“Are they intelligent? Will they follow orders?”
Nuala glanced at a couple of squabbling nightgaunts and fidgeted. “I’m not sure. I think they’re more like animals. You can train them like a dog.”
“I see…” She considered for a moment. “We wish a tour of the castle. Nuala, thou shalt guide us.”
The Vermin Kid chose to follow along, to which Nightmare Moon had no objection. As they went around its interior, she found the castle quite typical of those in her past experience in Equestria — causing her to wonder how much of what she saw was filtered through that mental lens. If she saw most other dreams as ponies only because she was one, did the same principle apply to the castle? Did the castle look different to dreamers? Neither of her escorts could answer those questions.
Dissatisfaction nibbled at her. This estate was functional enough, and would please any unicorn duke or earl, but Nightmare Moon was royalty, and this was no palace fit for royalty. She found herself thinking back, wistfully, to her time in the Dream King’s home, the castle of her own dreams.
Despite those misgivings, her spirits were lifted when the tour concluded in a well-equipped dungeon. That could come in useful.
Nightmare Moon soared in the endless night sky of The Dreaming. Her senses attuned once again, she waited for the trace of a dreamer — one who knew of her, thought of her, and might be inclined to dream of her. One that she could, perhaps, inspire.
There… Like the scent of a sound or the touch of a flavor, it was faint but unmistakeable. She banked and began to flap her wings, hastening across the firmament.
The trace led her to a puffy cloud, low near the ground. Seated upon the cloud, a gray pegasus pony was digging into a paper sack. Nightmare Moon hovered a short distance away, far enough for the sound of her wings to not be heard — for she could be as silent as an owl when she wished.
The tip of the pony’s tongue was visible, her face taught with concentration as she fished around in the sack with her arm. She fumbled for a bit and growled, “Dumb hooves! Why can’t I get this?”
Nightmare Moon sighed and swooped down to the cloud, her hooves coming to rest behind the pegasus. “What hast thou?” she demanded.
The gray pony stiffened, then turned her head — slowly, as if afraid of what she’d see — until her wide, golden eyes focused on Nightmare Moon. Then she suddenly jumped, twisting her body around in mid-air to face the black alicorn, and landed with the paper bag between them. “Nightmare Moon! I… I didn’t know it was Nightmare Night! I’m sorry I don’t have any candy but you can have this please don’t gobble me up!” She grabbed the paper sack between her front hooves and upturned it, shaking a couple of large muffins out onto the cloud.
Nightmare Moon scowled. “So, thou hast heard the stories about us?”
Cowering and shaking, the pony whimpered incoherently, then grabbed the empty bag and tried to dive into it. She only managed to get her head into it, but then she became still. Nightmare watched for a moment and cocked her head, puzzled. The pegasus’s blond tail swished, and a soft giggle came from the bag. “hehee… she can’t see me…”
Nightmare Moon winced and started to rub the top of her muzzle with her pastern, but her armor was in the way. She looked at the gray pony, and at the muffins, and then said, loudly, “Oh, where did that pegasus go? She must have vanished into thin air! At least she left me these delicious cakes.” She sat on the cloud and levitated a muffin, sniffed it, took a nibble. The flavor was unfamiliar, but not bad at all. She noticed the pegasus slowly shuffling backward, toward the edge of the cloud. Nightmare smiled and said, “It’s a shame I can’t eat both of them. I guess the other one will go to waste.” The pegasus stopped shuffling, her tail suddenly frizzing out like a startled cat.
Nightmare smirked. “I’m so full now, I shall go fly away and take a nap on some distant cloud.” She gave her wings a loud rustle, then a series of lighter ones. Then she watched quietly for a few seconds until the pegasus pony popped out of her paper bag. Her eyes wandered confusedly for a moment until they both managed to focus on Nightmare Moon, and her pupils shrank to dots.
“Boo!”
“Waaah!!” She flipped onto her back, tongue lolled out the side of her mouth, and didn’t move.
Nightmare waited a few moments, then narrowed her eyes and said, “You know, I don’t think it’s really possible to faint in a dream.”
The pegasus cracked an eyelid open. “It’s not?”
“Nice try, though.” She nibbled her muffin. “Mmm… What flavor is this, I wonder? It’s delicious.”
“You… You like muffins?” The pegasus immediately flipped over, smiling, fear gone as if someone had flipped a light switch. “It’s banana nut! It’s my favorite.”
“Ba-na-na. Hmm. I do not recall that kind of nut in Equestria from the time when I was on the throne. It must be a recent import.”
“So… You’re not going to gobble me?”
“Not in the least. And you are welcome to the other muffin.”
“Yay!” She reached with her arms to grab it.
The two ponies sat on the cloud and chewed on their muffins. Nightmare looked down at the pegasus and asked, “What is your name, little pony?”
“I’m Derpy!”
Nightmare turned her gaze upward. “Derpy, have you ever considered the wonders of the night sky?” As she spoke, the sky both darkened and cleared, revealing stars and a ghostly band of light sprawling across the sky from horizon to horizon — the Milky Way. Low in the west, subdued light spilled from a crescent moon.
Derpy stared upward, her jaw hanging open and the half-eaten muffin forgotten. “Wow!” she breathed.
“The sky in Equestria could have been this wondrous all the time if Sola… I mean, if Celestia had allowed it. But rather than relaxing, loving, and creating beautiful things under the moon and stars, she insists that ponies toil under her merciless sun. From dawn to dusk, their labors dull the creative parts of their minds and leave them too exhausted to enjoy the night.” She slipped a black wing around Derpy and said, “Would you like to help me change that?”
Derpy fidgeted. “What, are you like one of those Faust’s Witnesses or something? They keep inviting themselves to my house, and they talk and talk and leave their magazines.” She looked down at her muffin and frowned. “But they’re the only ponies who come visit me,” she muttered.
Nightmare Moon’s face fell, and she withdrew her wing. “I, err… Never mind.” She sighed. “Enjoy your muffin, Derpy.” Derpy smiled and returned to noshing it, while Nightmare gazed upward, wistfully.
“Who is brave enough to challenge Dominus Tusk, victor of ten thousand battles?” The gigantic minotaur looked around the arena, his gaze passing over the multitudes of ponies, minotaurs, griffins, gnolls, troggles, and even a small group of undisguised changelings. He called out, “Anyone? Come on now, don’t be shy! I’ll only kill you a little. Just enough to win, haha!”
A black shape swooped down to a graceful landing on four equine hooves. “NIGHTMARE MOON CHALLENGES THEE, BRUTE!” Her challenge echoed about the arena, and the crowd roared back, rising and calling out for blood (along with a few entirely inappropriate wolf whistles).
The minotaur laughed. “You’re much smaller than my last opponent. So, the little pony with a big mouth thinks she can beat me?” He swung his massive mace, knocking a divot from the dirt floor of the arena and sending a gout of dust into the air.
Nightmare Moon snorted and tossed her head, and pawed at the ground with a hoof. Dominus Tusk stared back at her and said, “This is a joke. You’re kidding, right?” He tightened his grip on his mace, flexing his muscles, and grimaced. “No? Then bring it!”
They both charged across the arena, toward one another. As they neared collision, Tusk lifted his mace for to strike, and a blue glow sizzled around Nightmare’s lowered horn. At the last instant she vanished in a puff of magic. The minotaur’s mace swung through thin air, and his battle cry changed to one of frustration in mid-shout.
The shout was cut short. The spectators in the arena gasped as they saw Nightmare Moon blink back into existence directly behind him and deliver a sharp kick to the back of his head. Tusk was knocked off his feet, face-first into the dirt, while Nightmare flapped her wings and fluttered to a landing.
Dominus Tusk lifted himself onto his hands and knees, sluggishly, and shook his head. Nightmare Moon taunted, “How lucky for you that your skull is so thick!”
Growling, he grabbed his mace and stood upright, and turned to face her again. He waved the mace menacingly. “When this connects, it’ll be the end of your tricks.”
“You’ll never touch me, oaf!”
Tusk gripped the mace with both hands and snorted. Then he lowered his head and charged at her again. Grinning, Nightmare charged her horn with magic and set loose a lightning strike toward her opponent. The bolt brought forth a pained bellow but failed to slow the giant’s charge. Momentarily taken aback by the failure of her lightning, Nightmare flapped and started to lift off, but Tusk was already swinging his mace. Once again she teleported in a puff of midnight blue magic, but Tusk carried through his swing all the way around behind himself, his mace catching Nightmare’s hip before she could buck at him. She shrieked as the impact sent her spinning across the arena.
The crowd cheered, and Dominus Tusk laughed. “Fool me once, shame on you! But fool me again? I think not!”
Nightmare picked herself up, but she limped, favoring her bruised hindquarter. She glared at the giant with her cold, draconic eyes. Her thin smile returned, and she taunted, “Come and get me then, you empty-headed son of a holstein!”
Tusk snarled, but his eye flicked across the hind foot Nightmare was holding off the ground. Suddenly he charged at her, and she turned to run — but stumbled as her battered thigh failed her.
Sensing weakness, Tusk barked out a cruel laugh and increased his speed, sprinting to catch her. Scrambling to get away, Nightmare Moon flapped her wings. Just as it seemed Tusk was about to catch her, reaching for her tail with his free hand, Nightmare Moon spread her wings wide and swooped upward into the sky. At the same moment her horn sparked with magic, and a silvery sheen appeared on the floor of the arena, underneath the minotaur’s hooves. He shuffled his feet frantically, struggling to stay upright on the slippery surface. He didn’t fall but was unable to stop his forward motion — until his body slammed face-first into the stone wall of the arena.
It seemed the entire crowd of spectators gasped out a sympathetic “Ooh!”, but cheers followed immediately as Nightmare Moon landed again and took a bow. She then turned and trotted over to Dominus Tusk, who was plastered against the wall. He tried to push himself away from it, but his horns were deeply embedded in the masonry. Nightmare Moon laughed — more a startled giggle than her usual villainous laugh — and then cast another lightning bolt from her horn. It struck him in the rear, making him jump and curse.
Tusk tried again to pull his horns out of the wall, then went limp. “Ten thousand battles… I’ve never been stuck in a wall. Okay, victory is yours.” His eye swiveled to look at Nightmare Moon. “Could you at least help free me?”
She moved closer. “In due time. So, Dominus Tusk… Have you ever considered the wonders of the night sky?”
The unicorn was sitting on the edge of a cliff. He’d been up here before, he knew. Rock climbing wasn’t something ponies normally did, but he must have done it sometime before, right?
He looked around. A little ways to his left was another pony sitting on the cliff’s edge and wearing a tightly-fitted jacket of blood red, though the color appeared muted in the moonlight. He thought he caught glimpses of other ponies sitting on the cliff, elsewhere along it, but he couldn’t be bothered to really notice. He looked at himself. He was wearing a red jacket too — like a uniform, perhaps. It wasn’t identical to the pony next to him. His own jacket was a bit more ornate, more formal, perhaps indicating a higher rank. The other pony said nothing, and it did not occur to him that he should speak either.
He looked down. The cliff he was sitting upon was made of limestone, rough and loose material. It didn’t seem particularly sturdy or stable. It was thin too, a narrow ridge with another drop-off immediately behind him, as if the whole structure were shaped like a piece of toast standing on end. He must have climbed up here, right? Surely it must be possible to climb down. He imagined his hooves scrabbling for purchase on the loose material, and a knot twisted in his belly.
He looked at the long shadows that the cliff cast on the ground in front of him. The moon must be shining very brightly behind him, he thought. He tried to turn and look over his shoulder to see it, but his perch was too precarious. He couldn’t shift enough to see behind him, not safely.
It must be possible to climb down. He couldn’t stay up here. Reluctantly, carefully, he put his front hooves on the cliff’s edge and tried to lower his hindquarters below it, groping with his hind feet. It was impossible to get a purchase that way. He would have to turn around, get his belly facing toward the cliff face.
He couldn’t turn around with both front hooves supporting him. He would have to lift one and bring it around his body. He would have to find some kind of foothold for a hind hoof to help support him while performing that maneuver. He groped some more until his right rear hoof found a ledge. It wasn’t much, but he would have to try. He took a deep breath, gritted his teeth, and tried to swing around. His rear hoof began to slip, and he barely got his left front hoof hooked over the cliff edge. However, the sudden movement had jostled the entire ridge. To his horror, the rock crumbled and it began to topple backward.
There was nothing he could do but close his eyes and ride it down, down to his doom. For a moment he could feel himself falling. Then he felt the sizzle of magic engulfing him, felt himself levitated. He opened his eyes, blinking at the deep blue aura that lowered him and gently set his hooves on the ground. The magic dissipated while the cliffside fell away, its crash barely audible as it seemed to turn to smoke and disperse.
Then he heard the voice. “A dream about falling? Really? How mundane! Can you even imagine how many dreams about falling I’ve seen?” It was a feminine voice, strong and confident.
He spun around. “A dream?” he blurted. Even as he uttered the question, he knew the answer. Of course this must be a dream, it should have been obvious. He drew a sharp breath as he saw the mare who had addressed him.
She towered over him, easily twice the height of a typical pony mare, and that was without considering her long, slender horn. Her build was lanky, and her coat and wings were as black as coal — no natural color. Ponies came in many colors, but not black. And then there were the cyan-blue eyes with slit pupils like a cat’s eyes, or like a dragon’s eyes. He noted the etherial mane and tail, blue clouds filled with twinkling stars. Most of all, he noticed the silvery armor she wore: helmet, sabatons, and a gorget marked with a crescent moon. He gawped.
She sized him up as well, taking note of his steel blue coat and pale gray mane. Her eyes wandered to the black hexagram upon his hip. “How curious,” Nightmare Moon commented dryly. “Ritual magic? That is an unusual talent. What is your name?”
He gulped and answered, “I’m Spell Nexus.”
“Spell Nexus… Foals often dream of me. To them I am a bogeymare, a shadowy figure to run from. Yet you are no foal, and you are not running. What am I to you, I wonder?”
Nexus stared back at her, pondering for a moment before he answered. “A mystery. A puzzle to be solved.”
“Ah! The dreaming mind often experiences bursts of creativity or insight that elude ponies during the day.” She stepped closer, craned her neck and sniffed at him. “You could ask me for the answer to your puzzle, Spell Nexus.”
He scooted back from her. “Huh-how do I know you’re even real?”
She quirked an eyebrow. “Did I claim to be real? Perhaps I am only a product of your overheated imagination.” She smiled slyly and asked, “Would you like for me to be real?”
“No, of course not! You were a monster.” Spell Nexus fidgeted under her skeptical gaze for a few moments, her silent accusation. “Okay, I’ll admit some disappointment that I never saw you. I’ve always been fascinated with history and ancient lore. When the sun failed to rise, I guessed what might have happened. Others didn’t know, but I guessed that you might have returned after a thousand years. And then… The next news I heard was after the sun came up, that you had been defeated. It was a relief, and yet…” He hesitated.
Nightmare nodded. “Go on!” she urged.
He gulped. “And yet, I’d missed it all. A lifetime I’ve spent reading books of ancient lore, books about ponies like you, and when something amazing actually happened, when you stepped out of the pages of history, I was cowering in my home. To see you would have been… it would have been…” He groped for the right words, then finished very softly, “…a dream come true.”
“Sometimes we get second chances, Spell Nexus. Sometimes they come when we least expect them.”
“Yes… Yes, I know. I was flabbergasted when Princess Celestia asked me to study your armor.”
Nightmare Moon’s eyes went wide, only for a moment before she concealed her surprise. She thought about the fragments of armor she’d seen scattered after she’d been struck down by the Elements of Harmony. “She gave you the broken bits of it, did she? It’s no wonder that you are dreaming about me. I must be much on your mind during your waking hours.”
Spell Nexus nodded. “Princess Celestia wants to know what caused her sister to go bad. It’s important. She wants to make sure it isn’t going to happen again — to Luna, or worse, to Celestia herself. Maybe by studying the armor, by scrying it, maybe I can figure out what really caused it all.” He blinked as he felt something drape over his back, around his withers. A thrill went through him as he realized it was Nightmare Moon’s raven-feathered wing.
“Scrying spells can work in mysterious ways,” she said. “Perhaps this dream is how your spell resolves. So ask!”
The unicorn shivered. He scuffed at the ground with his hoof. “What…? How…?” He looked around in confusion as clouds of gray seemed to close in upon his vision, his thoughts muddled. “No… I can’t wake up now. Not when I’m about to get the answer!”
Nightmare Moon’s voice came through the gloom faintly. “I’m afraid you are waking, Spell Nexus. But worry not. I shall find you when you sleep again.” His dream body dissolved to smoke beneath her wing and dissipated as his spirit returned to his bed in the waking world. She folded the wing against her side and said to herself, “I shall make a point of it.”
With a clatter, Nightmare Moon’s bare hooves touched down upon the steps in front of the Dream King’s palatial castle. It was not a particularly long flight from the far more modest castle that was her new home. As she approached the entrance, the three giant guardians turned their gaze upon her: the griffin, the pegasus, the dragon. She flicked a wing in greeting, and favored the pegasus with a coy smile. Subtly she posed; mindful that it was the first time he’d seen her without her armor.
“What is your business?” he asked.
“To visit the library and confer with Lucien,” she replied.
The pegasus nodded. “You may enter, Dark Lady.”
She nodded in return as the castle doors swung open, and she entered. Despite Lucien’s and Nuala’s complaints about the castle being short-staffed, she did encounter a few other dreams going about their business, making their way around the halls. Most of them appeared as ponies to her, although rather eccentric. Nightmare did not engage them, avoiding eye contact.
She let her intuition guide her through narrower hallways, toward the library. As she walked her gaze wandered to the side doors. Unmarked, they teased her curiosity, but she recalled Matthew’s warning and stayed on her path.
She was pleased, although not too surprised, to find the library open. Somehow her intuition had tipped that Lucien would be found here, despite his many other duties. As she entered, she found the owl hunched over a reading table with quill and scroll, making out some sort of list. She cleared her throat to get his attention.
He looked up, blinked. “Ah! Nightmare Moon. I trust you are fully recovered from your mishap some while back?”
“For a while now, yes. I have settled into my castle and have been engaging sundry dreamers as I encounter them. I seem to be getting the hang of it.”
The owl peered over his glasses. “I’m not privy to all the particulars of what transpired, but I hope you learned from that encounter. Your time among the living is over. You’d best not try to meddle with the workings of their world.”
Nightmare Moon narrowed her eyes, but maintained her composure and responded coolly. “I did learn from that incident, and your point is taken.”
“Very good. Well then, what can I help you with tonight? Would you be looking for more stories about Nightmare Night?”
“Not this time. I am interested in brushing up on ritual magic. Would you have any references on the subject?”
Lucien’s bushy eyebrows bunched together and the corners of his beak bent into a frown. “Reference books? Hurm. The primary concern of our library is stories, you know.”
“Yes, but you did say you have every book that is dreamed of. I’m sure scholars dream of reference works. And you know… Some occult rites might do wonders for the ambience of my castle.”
“Well, yes… Of course we have reference works. I merely meant to say, they’re in one of the less-traveled ancillary wings of the library. It may take a few moments, but I’m sure we can find something.”
“By all means, lead the way!”
Soon Nightmare Moon was scanning the titles on a shelf. “Hmmm… The Golden Dawn. The Horn of Everfree. The Witching Way of the Hollow Hill. The Book of Shadows. Ooh, shadow magic! That looks interesting.” She levitated a tome from the shelf, then blew across the top of it, raising a cloud of dust. “I see what you meant about this wing being less traveled.”
“Is that all you needed, lady?”
Her thoughts skipped back to the book he’d found for her when she visited before, the one she’d dreamed of writing when she was only a filly. “Actually… If you have anything pertaining to a pony named Spell Nexus, I would be interested in reviewing it.”
“I’ll see what I can find.”
Nightmare Moon spent several productive hours in the library, learning what she could of Spell Nexus — which was not much — and studying multiple branches of ritual magic. Ideas jostled in her mind, and plans began to form.
Using arcane ceremonies, symbols and properties, unicorns could combine their abilities to cast spells of great complexity and power — spells that could potentially transform the land. Such rites, in ancient times, had created the enchantments that bound Equestria’s sun and moon to magical control and had tamed Equestria’s weather and seasons. Ritual magic created artifacts of immense power, such as the Crystal Heart, the Golden Horseshoes, and the Elements of Harmony. In the darkest times, rogue unicorns had even used them to create monsters to fight in the Wizard Wars: griffons, gnolls, stratodons, manticores and hydras.
If Celestia had entrusted Spell Nexus with the armor for study, then he must be one of the most accomplished scholars in Canterlot. Further, his special talent was ritual magic, and he presumably had access to the resources needed to perform those ceremonies. If Nightmare Moon could gain influence over him, make him her pawn — no, her bishop! — then she might convince him to cast any spell on her behalf. The possibilities for undermining Celestia’s rule were almost unlimited.
She flipped through the spell books, considering her options. Plunge Equestria into endless night again? No… Celestia would be quick to reverse that. As long as Celestia inhabited the land of the living and Nightmare Moon was exiled in the world of dreams, there was no transformation Spell Nexus could work that Celestia could not unravel — although some with greater difficulty.
Spell Nexus could do many things for her, but he could not confront and defeat Celestia. Even if it were possible to overthrow her, who would rule? Luna? If not Luna, then some puppet ruler directed by Nightmare Moon from her place in the dream world? The Dream King would most likely notice that and put a stop to it, sooner or later.
Luna…
Nightmare began looking for mind control magic. If Spell Nexus could use a ritual to bring Luna back to her senses, then perhaps Nightmare Moon could truly live again. What were the odds of Spell Nexus reversing the effects of the Elements of Harmony? Nightmare squeezed her eyes shut as she remembered her last encounter with Luna. No… She knew, somehow, that path was closed to her. Luna would never accept her again.
Her study was interrupted briefly when the Fashion Thing brought in a tray with tea and scones, of which Lucien also partook.
After resuming her studies, Nightmare gradually began to feel tired and frustrated. There was nothing she wanted more than to return to Equestria, but every avenue she explored was blocked.
To return to the world of the living, she would need a living body. If not Luna’s body, then who? Spell Nexus had the broken remnants of her armor, the only remaining items in the waking world that identified with Nightmare Moon and no other pony, not even Luna. With a dark ceremony it just might be possible to conjure a new pony from the armor: a body that could become Nightmare Moon’s alone, uncontested.
That left another problem. Assuming such a living vessel could be made for her to inhabit, how would she get to it? The only way out of The Dreaming was through the two gates: one for true dreams, the other for false dreams. The gates were controlled by Morpheus, and he wouldn’t let her simply walk out.
There could be other possible paths from The Dreaming to the waking world. The Doorways in the Mist, perhaps — if she could figure out how to find them, or how to follow them to a destination of her choosing. Perhaps Death or some other god-like being could carry Nightmare away from The Dreaming — if she knew how to contact any such being, or any reason why they should help her against the Dream King’s wishes.
She slammed shut a book, stood up, stretched. Many sessions of research such as this might be needed before all the pieces of her puzzle came together, if it ever did. Wearily, she left the library and began to make her way out of the castle.
As she plodded down a hallway, Nightmare Moon’s eyes wandered to the side doors again. One of them was ajar, and silvery light, as if moonlight, spilled out.
She stopped. Did this room contain Morpheus’s secrets, she wondered? His treasures? His tools? Perhaps even the raw dreamstuff that the raven Matthew had spoken of? Only the Dream King could manipulate it safely, he’d told her — but Nightmare Moon was still Princess of the Night, was she not? She even had a splinter of Morpheus’s essence within her, supposedly. The thought was tempting.
To defy a clear warning was risky. She knew, though, that she would never get what she desired without risk. She perked up her ears and listened closely, but detected no one around. She nudged the door with her muzzle, swinging it open wider.
Her jaw dropped. Before her was a vista of another world. She could see a lake spilling into a waterfall with walls so convoluted, folded upon themselves, that it looked as though the water was pouring into the center of the earth. Perched overhanging the further shore of the lake was a large wooden building shaped like a giant basket ringed with windows. In the distance beyond, a flock of birds took flight into a peach-tinted sky, with wisps of cloud scudding in front of three moons, one of them abnormally large, another quite small.
Lost in wonder, Nightmare Moon took a few steps through the door into the fantastic, alien world. She took a deep breath, inhaling the mist from the falls. She peered at the unfamiliar faces of the moons, partially obscured by haze.
An itch tickled the back of her throat. Something in the mist perhaps. She coughed, reflexively. Perhaps a gnat had flown into her open mouth while she was gawping. She coughed again, irritated by the distraction from the amazing world she’d stepped into.
Then she gagged. There was definitely something stuck in her throat, something bigger than a gnat. She retched.
A stab of pain and fear went through her as something far too big came up her gullet and out of her mouth. It was… a hoof? Eyes wide, unable to breathe, too panicked to even think of what spell might work in this impossible situation, Nightmare Moon fell onto her rump and reached with her own front hooves, trying to grasp the foreleg that now protruded from her muzzle. It waggled.
“I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe, I’ve got to get it out!” she thought.
Her body heaved, convulsing in grotesque parody of birth. Another hoof and leg joined the first as they pushed further out of her mouth. She felt her jaws and throat stretching far beyond any normal limits. The pain was excruciating as an entire head followed. Nightmare Moon’s jaws stretched almost beyond recognition as an equine body emerged from her, slick with a sheen of blood.
After a few more seconds of abject agony, it was over. The thing had come out, and Nightmare Moon was left sprawled on the ground, gasping for air as blood dripped from her mouth and nostrils. Barely able to move, she turned her eyes upward to the silhouette of… herself?
The black pony that loomed over her was an alicorn with a midnight blue mane like her own. It was the eyes that clinched it, though: those cold, cyan-blue eyes, with slit pupils like a dragon. She was looking into her own eyes, and they flickered with recognition and with hate.
Her doppelgänger bared her teeth in a feral snarl, then reared in preparation to strike with her hooves. Nightmare Moon merely flinched, for she had no strength to do any more.
Just as she was about to be struck, a shadow interposed. “STOP!” It was Lucien’s voice.
The false nightmare stumbled back, startled, seemingly confused. Its gaze flitted between Lucien and Nightmare Moon, then it turned and fled. It leapt into the air above the lake and flapped away into the haze.
Lucien turned to look down at Nightmare Moon. “What have you done?”
Unable to answer, she closed her eyes and let him drag her back through the door, to the safety of the Dream King’s castle.
After the door was shut behind them, Lucien looked down at Nightmare Moon and scolded her. “That was incredibly foolish! If I hadn’t come along when I did, that thing could have destroyed you.”
Still badly shaken, Nightmare gasped, “What…? What was it?”
“I think I know what it was, but I’d rather let Lord Morpheus explain. He’ll want to see you after this. Come on then, if you’re able to stand… I’ll take you to the infirmary.”
The infirmary was a dreary place with bare stone walls, floor and ceiling, and simple, metal-framed cots. Nightmare hobbled in and collapsed on one of them. At the end of the room were a sink and cabinets, and a few implements hanging on the wall that looked a bit too much like carpenter’s tools. An ash-gray pony wearing a doctor’s white coat came over. “I’m Doctor Saw Bones,” he announced brusquely. “What ails ya?”
She glanced helplessly at Lucien. He took the hint and said, “Nightmare Moon was exposed to raw dreamstuff, and something, umm… emerged from her. Check her over, if you please? Meanwhile, I shall go inform Lord Morpheus of the mishap.”
The doctor took her temperature, put his stethoscope to her chest, checked her reflexes with a little rubber mallet, looked down her throat with a tongue depressor, then finally snorted and said, “You’re as healthy as a horse. Just take a couple of aspirin and call me in the morning.”
“That’s it, you’re releasing me?”
“Well… Since you’re here, we could do some surgery. Might I interest you in amputation? I think you’d look stunning with a wooden leg. Polished ebony, perhaps?”
She blinked, then narrowed her eyes at him. “I think you’d look stunning crushed into a small sphere.”
The doctor blanched and backed away. “Uhh… I’ll just let you rest.” He turned and bolted out the door.
Within a few minutes Nuala entered the room and blurted, “Princess Moon! Are you all right?” Before Nightmare could answer, the fairy rushed over and wrapped her slender arms around her neck, hugging, and half-burying her face in the royal midnight-blue mane.
Nightmare Moon’s mind whirled with confusion. The fairy was invading her personal space, and yet it felt rather… nice, under the circumstances. At the same time she wondered, did Nuala actually care about what happened to her? Why would she?
Even without speaking, Nightmare’s body stiffened, and Nuala seemed to suddenly realize she’d overstepped herself. She released her grasp and backed up. “Oh! Oh, I’m sorry… Your Majesty!” She took another step back and curtseyed.
“We will… ah, overlook thy familiarity, this once. And we are feeling much better.”
This was overheard by Lucien and Lord Morpheus as they came into the room. From her place on the cot she was unable to bow, but she lowered her head in respect.
Morpheus stared for a moment, silently, then said, “Nightmare Moon, you have been in my realm only a short while, but this is already your second brush with your own destruction. You will not survive long if you continue in this manner.”
Still not meeting his eyes she responded, “Forgive me, Lord Morpheus. I don’t even understand what happened.”
“No? Then listen closely! You entered a room full of pure, unformed dreamstuff. Unprepared and ignorant of how to shape it to your will, you provided a model for it to shape itself into a replica of your own form. Thus, you unwittingly created your own Nemesis.”
Nightmare’s ears drooped. “What is a Nemesis? What does it mean?”
“Your Nemesis is a being that seeks to replace you. It matches all your strengths, knows your weaknesses, and will bends all its efforts toward ending you. You are fortunate that Lucien arrived when he did, and that your Nemesis was still confused from its own creation and easily startled. It will not be so easily deterred the next time you face it.”
She looked up at him. “Is there nothing you can do?”
His face was stone. “Your Nemesis is a product of your own folly, as you disregarded a clear warning. Further, even if I wished to aid you, I cannot change the outcome. You will eventually confront your Nemesis, and you will destroy it, or it will destroy you. This is a matter of Destiny, not of Dreams, and therefore is outside of my purview to intervene.”
Her head hung low again. Morpheus added, “Let this doom hanging over you serve as a reminder, and cease dabbling in what you don’t understand.” With that, he turned and left her to her thoughts.
“These are great!” gushed Derpy as she held a half-eaten muffin between her front hooves. “What kind of berries are these?”
Nightmare Moon swallowed a bite of her own before saying, “Dreamberries! They only grow in places protected from the sun. I hoped you might like them.” She smiled as she saw Derpy was already chewing on another bite. Nightmare looked at her own muffin. “I once hoped ponies would learn to enjoy mushrooms, dreamberries, bodark apples and the rest of the night’s bounty.”
“Aww…”
“If only…” Her gaze directed at the horizon, unfocused. “If only they’d given the night a chance… If only they’d given me a chance…” She closed her eyes for a moment, then shook her head and look to her companion. “You’re the only one I can talk to, Derpy. Everyone here in the Dreaming is a subject of the Dream King. My own castle staff… Even my neighbor, Abel. I like him, but I couldn’t trust him to keep any secrets from his liege lord. Nor would it be fair to ask him to.”
Derpy nosed at her. “It’s okay. I’ll be your friend.”
Nightmare Moon shot the gray pegasus a wary look. “Friend?” Recent memories began to surface, memories of a rainbow full of pain. Friendship had not been kind to her, of late. Even so, she could hardly deny its power — not anymore.
Derpy continued, “Sure! You were all scary at first, but you’re not so bad.”
Nightmare smiled, just a little. “I suppose I could give that a try. So, Derpy… What sort of things do friends do together?”
Derpy tapped her chin with her hoof, a gesture of deep thought. “Hmm… We could tell each other how our day has been.”
“Oh. My day — or rather, my night — was not so good. I stumbled into a room full of dream magic, with a lake and waterfall, and three moons. Then I accidentally created my own nemesis, who I was told I’m fated to battle in some sort of duel to the death.”
Derpy nodded along, grinning, wings twitching, until Nightmare was done speaking. Then she blurted out, “I got to be in charge of the weather!”
Nightmare blinked. Then she blinked again. She stared at Derpy. “Say what now?”
Derpy bounced on her hind legs and fluttered her wings as she told the story. “I got the Fancy Cloud Badge, so I could be in charge! I always wanted that. And then I was so excited, I wanted to go water Ponyville with some rain, so I got Sparky, because he’s my most favorite cloud, and I moved him over to the library tree so I could give it some water, and then something went wrong and there was too much lightning and I sorta set the tree on fire, and then Twilight Sparkle came out and yelled at me, and then Rainbow Dash came and yelled at me, and then she took away the Fancy Cloud Badge. But… It was fun to be in charge for a little while anyhow.”
Nightmare Moon stared at Derpy as if she’d just broken out in polka dots. “You set Twilight Sparkle’s home on fire?”
Derpy nod-nodded. “Just a little.”
Nightmare Moon reached over with her hooves to Derpy’s shoulders and took a deep breath and then said, “Derpy… You are best pony!”
Spell Nexus sorted through his notes, shuffling them with his magic. He muttered, “No, no… Where is it?” He glanced around his elegant, hardwood-paneled study — at the bookshelves, at the large globe on its pedestal, at his roll-top desk, the map table which now had a few scarred pieces of silvery metal resting upon it. He looked at the many unseemly piles of books and papers, stacked on every available surface, including the floor. He tugged on a notebook with his magic, but the whole stack spilled across the rug.
He felt a sinking feeling as he realized just how bad the clutter had become. Worst of all, his main notebook covering his research on Nightmare Moon’s armor was buried in here somewhere.
Perhaps shelving some books would reduce the mess and bring it to a more manageable state. He levitated a book. The cover was blank. He opened it, tried to read a passage, but the words seemed a jumble. “…until aether synchronized… uh… spread spectrum… counterpoint to… uh…” He lifted an arm, rubbed his eyes with the side of his pastern… “What’s wrong with me?” he muttered.
“You can’t read in dreams,” was the reply. Spell Nexus spun, startled, to find Nightmare Moon sitting there, this time without her armor, her mane and tail appearing solid rather than etherial. She added, “I wonder if your work space is this cluttered in the waking world?”
He froze, but a thrill ran through him. They stared at one another for a moment, the black alicorn waiting patiently until he formulated his response. Without her armor or starry mane, she looked less intimidating, more pony-like, more… hot… His eyes went wide in panic as he tried to expunge that last thought from his mind. That was just wrong in so many ways. He flailed for a response and finally came up with: “uh… No. Not this bad. I wasn’t sure I would ever see you again, Nightmare Moon.”
“I said that I would find you, Spell Nexus. When last we met, you seemed to have a question for me. Do you still wish to ask?”
“Yes! Yes I do. Just a moment… I have to take notes.” His magic engaged as he started shuffling things about on his desk, trying to get a pencil and some sort of notepad or scrap paper together. “no… no… There’s got to be something here that I can write on.”
Nightmare Moon laughed. “Notes? You can’t even read here, so how do you think you’ll write? And if you did, do you imagine your notes would magically follow you back to the waking world? Would they materialize beside your pillow?”
He blushed with embarrassment and rubbed the back of his head. “Oh. Heh… I guess that wouldn’t really work.”
“Mayhap it could, if I so willed. It is not necessary, though. I promise that you will not forget what I reveal. So… Your question?”
He took a deep breath and fidgeted with his front hooves and then said, “I just want to know where you came from, and how you took control over Princess Luna.”
“Took control over…? Spell Nexus, what exactly do you think I am?”
He cleared his throat. “I have some theories about that, actually. A miasma rising from the lunar seas, perhaps. Or a manifestation of Tirek’s Rainbow of Darkness. Or maybe even a ponymorphic form of The Smooze, although I’ll admit that’s a bit of a stretch. Some connection with Tirek seems most likely, as there are several parallels in the Legend of Midnight Castle…”
“Enough!” Nightmare stamped her hoof, shutting him up. She pinned him with a glare. “You’ve invented a fantasy about some demonic creature sneaking up on the poor, weak, defenseless Princess Luna and overwhelming her. How much more palatable, how more convenient than the truth!”
Spell Nexus was stiff with fear, his jaw hanging open as if he’d been frozen that way in mid-sentence. Seeing this, Nightmare’s expression softened. She reached forward her hoof under his jaw and closed it, gently. Her voice colored with honey as she said, “I should not take my frustrations out on you, my little pony. You are only seeking knowledge after all.” She nuzzled him, brushing her nose across his ear. His eyes went wide, this time not entirely with fear.
Sitting back again, she continued, “I am Princess Luna — or at least, I was. Everypony thought I was soft, the weak sister, but I had so much strength in me they didn’t even realize. It only needed an outlet. Thus I created this persona: a new name, a new costume and glamour, so I could command the respect I was due.”
“But… Why? Why would you turn to evil?”
“Evil? Is that what you think?” She laughed, a patronizing chuckle. “Oh, my dear Spell Nexus, this is no fairy tale for young foals. We’re adults here. There is no more good or evil, black or white. We’ve matured beyond all that. We must each have our own personal view of right and wrong.”
He spoke hesitantly, “So… In your personal view of right and wrong, endless night is okay?”
“You shouldn’t knock it until you’ve tried it. Ponies have so many misconceptions about the night… They assume everypony would freeze, or everypony would starve, but it’s not like that at all.” She closed her eyes for a moment. “I had it all planned out, how everything would work. There would have been new lights for the towns, and new crops to grow under the moon. It would have been wondrous. The night… The night works differently from the day. Life would be different. Different isn’t always bad, but ponies… Alas, how they fear what they don’t know!”
Spell Nexus looked at the floor, brow furrowed with thought. “I’m still not sure I understand. I don’t think I have anything I can tell Princess Celestia to set her mind at ease.”
“Afraid of telling my sister what she doesn’t want to hear? Knowing her, I don’t blame you. But this is more than a mere assignment for you, Spell Nexus. It's a quest, and you won’t be satisfied until you’ve arrived at the truth. You may not be there yet, but you are on your way, and I can guide you.” A glow gathered about her horn, and she spread her wings, and the environs of Spell Nexus’s study dissolved into mist around them. They now stood upon a cloud overlooking a peaceful valley. Moonlight painted the land below in shades of gray, except for the warm light seeping out from the streets and homes of a village in the distance. The sky above was streaked with clouds that drifted slowly, majestically, with no pegasus to push them. The moon dimmed and brightened as wisps passed across its face.
Spell Nexus found himself entranced by the beauty of the night his companion had conjured. Once again he felt the soft feathers of her wing brushing across his back. And then she began to sing…
Close your eyes For the night is falling Fear no dark for it's warm and safe And looks familiar as it comes approaching Come with me and I will take you
To a world beyond your sleep Beyond what’s real In safety, a hidden sphere Away from all daily reality Truth lies out there, the truth lies out there.
As the innocent lay their heads down As the night chants its luring call Cross the borders of sense and foresight Come with me and I will take you You don't have to be afraid
A tear is only water A sigh is only air Whenever you feel haunted The truth lies out there, the truth lies out there.
In a world beyond your sleep Beyond what’s real In safety, a hidden sphere Away from all daily reality Truth lies out there, the truth lies out there.
When her song ended, Spell Nexus was breathless for a few moments, until he came to his senses and tromped his front hooves on the floor. “That was amazing!” he gushed.
Nightmare Moon nodded. “Thank you, I’m glad you liked it. I’m entirely serious, though. I believe this quest for the truth is your destiny. Every pony is born to a destiny, though some are long in recognizing theirs. Some are born to lead, others to follow. Some are born to fortune, some for adventure. Some are born to love, some to fight.” She moved closer. “Some are born to sweet delight.” She lowered her muzzle close by his ear and murmured more softly, “Some are born to sweet delight… and some are born to the endless night.”
The drawing room in Nightmare Moon’s castle was elegantly appointed — thanks to The Fashion Thing’s efforts. Abel glanced at the tapestries, the paintings with their rather dark themes, the ornate furnishings and rug. Nightmare Moon, sans armor, sat across the table from him as Nuala poured tea into china cups. As she poured Nightmare’s cup she commented, “It’s Abel’s favorite tea, as you requested.”
The teacup floated in Nightmare Moon’s magical aura as she delicately took a sip. “Mmm… What an unusual flavor! It is wild but slightly minty — I can’t place it.”
“It’s cuh-catnip,” Abel explained. He carefully balanced his own cup between his front hooves as he took a sip, then set it down and added, “I luh-like it because it’s, uh, soothing and helps me sleep.”
She giggled softly. “Helps you sleep… We are dreams, are we not? In a way we never sleep, and in another way sleep is all we are.”
“Yeah, I guess it’s kind of fuh-funny.”
Nightmare nibbled a scone and gestured to dismiss Nuala, who quietly slipped away. Then Nightmare said to Abel, “It pleases me that I can return some of the hospitality you showed me. This castle seems like little more than an empty shell, though I hope that will change with time.”
“I’m sure it will. And I’m, hmm, happy to come and vuh-vuh-visit. So, um… I heard you got huh-hurt in the, uh, castle? In Dream’s castle, I mean? I was wuh-worried.”
She sighed. “I’m all right now. Let me tell you what happened…” She began to recount the recent events, and the creation of her nemesis. However, she hadn’t yet finished the tale when she was rudely interrupted.
“THERE YOU ARE!” shouted a familiar voice, and Able fumbled his tea and spilled it. His brother Cain barged into the room, teeth bared in rage. “Did you think I wouldn’t see you skulking over here, buffoon?”
Abel tried to shrink behind the table, while Nightmare Moon stood up and demanded, “What is the meaning of this intrusion?”
Nuala’s dainty hands were clamped on Cain’s tail, trying to pull him back through the doorway, but her feeble efforts had no effect. She said, “I tried to turn him away, but he wouldn’t listen.”
Ignoring them, Cain ranted, “Abel, have you taken leave of whatever addled senses you had? This black beauty only has to lift her tail and give you a sniff, then you’re trailing after her like a dog! And what do you think she wants? You, the mealy sack of flab, the stuttering imbecile! Are you so deluded to imagine she fancies you? Ha! She only wants… URK!”
Cain found himself being lifted off the floor by a midnight blue aura, matching the one that sizzled along Nightmare’s black horn. Veins pulsed and muscles twitched in his neck as he choked, unable to speak. Nightmare Moon’s voice was deceptively calm as she said, “Cain, I find your lack of decorum disturbing.”
“Don’t hurt him!” Abel blurted. “Puh-please… please trust me, you mustn’t. Just, uh, let him go.”
Nightmare flicked an ear but kept her cold eyes locked on Cain. Straining, he choked out, “Go on! Do your worst!”
Abel was frantic. “No! He’s puh-puh-protected! His muh-mark… You said you owed me a buh-buh-buh… a favor. Let him go!”
Nightmare narrowed her eyes at Cain. “So be it.” Her aura vanished, dropping him onto the floor. Her eyes focused on the white mark upon his forehead. “So you are under the protection of the Dream King?”
Cain gasped for breath for a moment before answering, “Heh… Not him. One far more powerful. If you harm a hair on me, you’ll suffer sevenfold retribution. You can’t stop me, no one can!” He picked himself up and began stalking towards Abel. “As for you… You made a mistake in coming here, and it’s time to make you pay!” He lowered his head and charged forward — only to crash into a blue force field. Dazed for a moment, he rubbed his head, then put his front hooves up against the glowing wall. “What’s this?”
Nightmare Moon said, “I won’t let you hurt your brother.”
Cain bared his teeth and began bashing the force field with his hooves. “No, no, no! You can’t stop me! I have a contract! A commission! I’m the victor, he’s the victim. I have a right! A right! I’m entitled! I’m special!” The shield held firm while Abel cowered, whimpering.
Nightmare Moon finally began to raise her voice, if only to speak over Cain’s ranting. “I don’t know what your agreement with Morpheus is, but you won’t hurt Abel here. Not in my home, not in my presence.”
Cain snarled with frustration and turned on Nightmare Moon. “Fool! You think this changes anything? How long do you think you can keep him here? When he comes out of this castle, I’ll be waiting! I’ll make him suffer. I’ll make him suffer more than ever before. His death will be long, and lingering, and painful, and I’ll be thinking of you the whole time. I won’t let him forget either. Every moment he spends with you, I’ll reward with twice the pain.”
Nightmare Moon’s eyes blazed back at him, meeting his challenge. “You want to defy me, little pony? I could crush you like an insect.”
Cain sneered. “Go ahead, let’s see you try!”
“No no!” called out Abel. “That’s what he wuh-wants you to do!”
Nightmare’s eyes narrowed for a moment, but then a smile began to form. “So you’re special. Entitled. Protected! I dare not harm you, is that right?” An aura of magic flared around her horn, and the glow engulfed Cain, lifting him off the floor.
Eyes wide, he flailed his legs helplessly. “What… What are you doing?” Without a word in reply, Nightmare Moon walked out of the room, floating Cain in front of her. He pleaded, “Let’s not be hasty now. I may have spoken recklessly. It was… It was all in jest! You know how siblings can be, always kidding around.
“Oh yes, I know all too well. Those little pranks they play on one another! I’ve learned a few such tricks myself.” As Abel and Nuala trailed behind, she walked down the hallway and out into the courtyard, where she gave a loud whistle. Three black nightgaunts swooped down from the castle walls and landed in front of her. She magically tossed Cain to them and said, “Have fun, boys!”
The silent nightgaunts instantly pounced upon Cain and began tickling him with the barbed tips of their tails. He struggled and tried to escape, but within moments he was subdued, helplessly convulsing with laugher, trying in vain to fend off the agile tails. One of the nightgaunts grasped him firmly with its long fingers and toes, spread its wings and lifted him into the air. Its tail tip continued to dart around his sides, keeping him twitching uncontrollably, even while the creature gained altitude and flew over the castle wall.
In the courtyard, the rest watched as the nightgaunt disappeared into the darkness, and Cain’s wheezing laughter interspersed with curses faded into the distance. Abel asked, “Whuh-what will, uh, happen to him?”
Nightmare shrugged lightly. “The nightgaunt won’t injure him, if that’s what you’re thinking. Still… I doubt whether we’ll be seeing him again for A While.”
They returned to the drawing room, where Nuala quickly cleaned up the mess and poured more tea. After they had settled down, Abel asked, “Why did you, hmm, puh-protect me?”
“Because I could, and because I wanted to. As well, you are my guest. I would be a poor host if I allowed my visitors to be assailed. But enough of that! Let us banish the matter from our thoughts, shall we?” He nodded agreement, and then Nightmare Moon picked up their conversation where she’d been interrupted before, and finished telling of her encounter with her nemesis.
After hearing Morpheus’s verdict, Abel pondered, stared into his cup for some moments, then ventured, “So, umm… Do you know what happened to your, uh, your nuh-nemesis, after it flew off I mean?”
“No… Lord Morpheus said it has all my abilities, and apparently it is equally skilled at hiding in the dreamscape. I’m sure it realized I would try to find it. I suppose it must be gathering its strength until it senses an opportunity to strike. That’s what I would do. You will inform me if you learn anything, I trust.”
“Oh of course, of course.” He took another sip of tea. “Hmm… I wuh-wish I could have seen that, uh, dreamscape you wandered into, with the, um, lake and three moons. Hmm, it must have been buh-beautiful.”
“Oh yes, it was. Not that I had much time to enjoy the view. And besides, one moon is quite enough for me. Can you imagine trying to ride herd on three of them?” She took a sip of tea, and a faraway look came over her. “Hmm… Three moons. A trinity of moons.” Her eyes opened wide, ears perked up, and her wings even gave an excited flutter. “A trinity!” she said, more loudly.
“Whu-what?” Abel blinked.
Nightmare Moon’s look of surprise shifted to the widest grin Abel had seen upon her. “Only a trinity can walk the Moon’s Path. It's an obscure bit of ancient lore that I’d almost forgotten — and I doubt Lord Morpheus remembers, if ever he knew. It would be of no use to him. But for me…” Abel could almost imagine gears turning in her head. “I can do this!”
“Do what? I don’t understand.”
The grin faded. “It won't be easy. I'll have to find a way to capture the others and control them. Risky, yes. But still…” Then she blinked and looked at Abel as if only just remembering that he was there. "I can go home, Abel. There is a way for me to return to Equestria and live again. And then… Then I'll show them. I'll show them all. I'll have my kingdom, and I’ll have my revenge, and the night will last forever!"
Author's Note
For the full story of the Fancy Cloud Badge, see here: Tales From Ponyville
Your musical selection: Sleepwalker's Dream
A black vapor flowed across the rocks, pushing aside the more ordinary mists. It flowed like oil, like molasses. Unnaturally, it flowed uphill. It wound around the cold stones, clinging to the earth and yet gradually working its way upward toward the foundations of the Dream King’s castle upon its rocky perch.
The vapor kept away from the front gate. It flowed to the side, toward the rear of the castle, seeking, probing at any crevice in the stone edifice. The castle, flawless from a distance, was imperfect when examined more closely. The mist groped, exploring each chink in the facade, every grated vent, every rusty drain pipe, until it found a narrow window slit — barred with iron, but no obstacle for the mist. It began to flow through the slit, pooling in a dark chamber within the castle’s walls.
When all of the black vapor had gathered in the chamber, it coalesced into an equine form, and Nightmare Moon opened her eyes. She was in! Just as importantly, she was in without being seen. For what she had planned this night, it would be best that no one know she’d been anywhere near the castle.
She cast a faint glow from her horn — like starlight, though it was as good as daylight to her eyes. Stacked against one wall were oak barrels. A larger portion of the store room was occupied by sturdy wooden shelves, loaded with sundry bundles and articles. Dust and cobwebs indicated the room was not entered often. She briefly perused the shelves, but soon dismissed their contents as more junk than treasure.
She closed her eyes, and her body dissolved into mist again, then re-formed into the shape of a burly gray stallion — the guise of Mervyn’s helper, Abudah. With her mouth she tripped the door latch and went out from the store room into a corridor.
Far from the finery of the castle’s public areas, this was a spartan access way for servants, narrow, with bare stone walls and floor. Picking a direction, she tromped along, heavy hooves with unshorn fetlocks clomping on the worn stones. Doorways of heavy oak were interspersed along the corridor, but she sensed they were unlikely to hold anything of more interest than the store room she’d just left.
She perked up her ears. There were noises ahead, and the warm glow of a lamp. Cautiously she peeked into the small room and found a scullery with a couple of wash basins and stacks of dishes and silverware. The sounds of activity were coming from the next, larger room… the kitchen, judging by its wafting aromas. Before she could retreat, a portly mare, chestnut in color, poked her head into the scullery and laughed. “Abudah! Back again so soon? Your appetite just doesn’t quit. That’s all right, I’ve always got something for you. Come on in!” She motioned with a toss of her head for Abudah (as it seemed) to follow.
Nightmare Moon trailed her hesitantly. She guessed the real Abudah must sneak in the back of the kitchen rather often. The kitchen mare led her to a table in the corner and said, “You just sit down here, and I’ll bring you a plate.”
“Ayuh,” she said, imitating the only word she’d ever heard Abudah speak. She didn’t think he would be hard to impersonate, though it could be rather awkward if the real Abudah came looking for a snack.
In a moment the cook had returned and set a plate onto the table. “Dig in!” Piled high with hay fries, it wasn’t the sort of royal fare to which Nightmare Moon was accustomed, but it ought to be filling.
“Ayuh!” Nightmare picked up a hay fry in her stallion-sized mouth and began munching. The cook smiled and nodded and moved on to do other things. Nightmare chewed, finding the fodder rather bland. She itched to move on and continue her search, but leaving too quickly might raise suspicion. Her gaze turned to some jars on the table. One jar contained a red sauce and a spoon handle hanging out. The rude label, scuffed and wrinkled, was marked: ANT KETCHUP. That was a new one. Was it ketchup made of ants, or made by ants? Neither seemed particularly likely — or appetizing. Even so, the hay fries needed some flavor, so she tried spooning a small sample of the ketchup onto them.
Even though it wasn’t quite like any ketchup she’d ever tasted before, it did add some zest. She spooned more ketchup over the rest of the fries (awkwardly, lacking magic) and munched her way through them. A warm glow slowly spread through her, and she felt invigorated. She was almost done when the cook came back to check on her. “Not bad, huh?” The fake Abudah nodded. The cook glanced at the open jar and blinked, and her smile vanished. “Oh no. Did you…?” She pointed with a hoof. “Did you put that on your fries?”
Nightmare Moon glanced at the jar with a sinking feeling. “Ayuh?”
The cook wailed, “Of all the choices to make! Just look…” The cook snagged the jar with a hoof and smoothed out the crumpled label so it was fully readable: MUTANT KETCHUP.
The sinking feeling got much worse as Nightmare Moon’s stomach did a flip-flop. She brought a hoof to her mouth and heaved, eyes bugging out. “It’s already starting to take effect,” the cook observed needlessly.
The warmth she'd felt turned into blazing heat and stinging prickles all over her body. She staggered back from the table, but strength fled from her limbs and she collapsed on the floor under a crushing wave of dizziness. It soon turned into a splitting headache. She writhed and groaned, but the pain passed almost as quickly as it had come. She opened her eyes, but double vision made her feel more disoriented than ever. She blinked up at the cook — or cooks. She blinked again and the two ponies looking down on her became four.
“Give it a moment to run its course!” the cook said, her voice reverberating with a curious echo. “Oh, you must have got a double dose..”
Nightmare Moon closed her eyes to make the quadruple vision go away for a moment. The dizziness and weakness was subsiding, and she struggled to her feet, but something still felt very wrong. She tried to turn her head to look back at herself, but her muzzle whacked into something. There was a pony right next to her, on her left! No wait, it was on her right! Her vision was still utterly confused, so she leaned against the table and lifted an arm to feel of her face and muzzle. It seemed okay at first. It took a few more moments of groping around before she found her second head.
The cook was almost bouncing with a manic grin. “Two heads! And four eyes on each head! That’s a strong batch of ketchup. And I might say, not a bad look for you, Abudah.” Nightmare blink-blink-blink-blinked, and opened and closed her mouths mutely. The cook added, “I wonder if anything else was doubled?” She craned her neck, trying to get a glimpse of Nightmare’s hindquarters.
Nightmare hurriedly tucked her tail between her legs and bawled, in stereo, “Nuh-uhhhh!” In a mad scramble to get out of the kitchen, she blundered into another table, knocking pans and dishes onto the floor, then smacked into the door frame, then finally escaped into the hallway.
From behind the cook called, “Good luck with that! Come back anytime, big guy!”
As soon as she could manage, Nightmare Moon steered her grossly mutated stallion body into an empty store room, where she wouldn’t be seen, and reverted to etherial mist. Then she re-formed into her natural shape and coughed up the remnants of the horrid lunch onto the floor. Shaken and queasy, she stood with her eyes closed, taking deep breaths and trying to recover.
After her stomach settled down and she caught her breath, she muttered, “I won’t give up that easily.” She re-formed her Abudah disguise, sans mutations, and ventured into the hallways once more.
She tried to let her intuition guide her as she’d done before, but it was harder when she didn’t know exactly what her destination was. She fell back upon her nearly-forgotten dreams of long ago, of her dream castle. Where would her quarters have been? Her private study? Her sanctum? She tried to envision in her mind what they would have been like, how they would have looked. Her path led out of the servants’ passages into the wider halls, decorated with carpets, paintings and more ornamental sconces.
She knew she was on the right track when she saw the guard ponies stationed at an open doorway. They were dark like her own Night Guards of ancient times while their armor resembled that of Celestia’s guards, save that it gleamed with the cool white of polished silver instead of gold.
Nightmare Moon hooked a right turn and moved away from the guards, letting them think her destination was elsewhere. She’d have to get past them, but a direct confrontation as “Abudah” was a needless risk.
She went some distance down the hallway, letting the sound of her hoof-falls fade in their ears. She stopped, waited a bit, then transformed back to her natural form. A simple spell silenced her hooves, and she backtracked to the corner nearest where the guards were stationed. Her horn flickered as another subtle spell was cast, and the guards turned to look away from her position. “What was that?” asked one. After a moment the other answered, “Probably nothing, just a rat.”
The guards' eyes clouded with a hazy blue light, followed an instant later by an explosion of stars and then darkness. They slumped to the floor, sporting matching dents in their helmets where they had been bashed together. “How convenient that they come in pairs,” Nightmare mused. There was another flash of magic and a loud BAMF as she teleported the unconscious guards to one of the store rooms she’d visited earlier. It was a difficult teleport, but if they ended up fused into a stone wall, then what of it?
Nightmare Moon dissolved to smoke again and coalesced into a pair of guards identical to the ones she’d just knocked out. They walked through the doorway with satisfied smiles on their muzzles. Dividing her form into multiple ponies was one of Nightmare Moon’s most advanced spells. It involved some risks, and she couldn’t maintain it indefinitely, but for now it would serve well to misdirect and spread confusion.
The hallway where she now walked was grander than before, where large tapestries alternated with a series of stained-glass windows depicting some sort of historical events — mostly the Dream King prevailing over past foes, from what little Nightmare Moon could make out. One seemed to depict the creation of the two gates from the horns of gods he had slain. She knew the throne room would be up ahead, but that was not her goal. The Dream King’s private spaces would be in a side corridor, undoubtedly. It wasn’t hard to spot; another pair of guards stood before the entrance. This time she approached them directly.
“Hold!” said one. “Why have you left your post?”
“We’ve been sent to take over here. You two are wanted back at the armory,” Nightmare replied, mimicking the guard’s voice she’d heard earlier.
“The armory? What for?”
Nightmare shook her head. “Dunno. Nopo… uh, nobody tells us nothing.”
The guard grumbled. “I guess we’d better find out. Come on, Deke.” They shuffled away while Nightmare Moon took their place with her imitation guard bodies. She waited until they were out of sight, then turned and proceeded into the corridor.
Nearest the throne room were meeting rooms where Morpheus could hold private conferences with petitioners and staff alike. She continued, checking each room. She found a room that seemed like a small, peculiar sort of art gallery. Upon the wall were six picture frames, each framing a symbolic object: a heart, a metal hook, a sword, a book wrapped in chains, a goldfish, and a cross with a loop in its top end. The cross she recognized as Death’s cutie mark. Nightmare Moon shuffled nervously. This room was undoubtedly important, but it was not what she’d come for, and she couldn’t risk her mission to meddle once again with things she didn’t understand. She filed away what she’d seen for future research and reluctantly returned to her exploration.
Uneasily she glanced at the statues she passed, which seemed to be watching from their dark alcoves, before she came to a large, double door of polished hardwood. She reached with a hoof to push on the brass plate. The door stayed firm, locked. She smiled, doubly. This was more like it. She dissolved the two guard disguises and changed back into her proper form, then conjured up a skeleton key and unlocked the doors. With her magic she swung them open, and she strode into the room.
It was an office, and it was well-ordered but also thickly populated with cabinets and curios: books, statues, paintings, trophies and mementos, many of which were inscrutable to Nightmare Moon’s curious eye. Centering the room was a finely crafted — but relatively mundane — office desk and club chair. Upon the desk top was nothing more than an in-box, a writing tablet, quill and ink, and a modest statuette.
Nightmare Moon cast a subtle spell and glanced around the room. Many items glowed with auras of various hues and intensities, but a brilliant light shone out of a keyhole of one particular desk drawer. She moved around the desk, following the light. As the spell faded, she floated her skeleton key to the drawer, unlocked it, and slid it open. Therein were odds and ends: a pocket watch, a few old coins, a pair of casino dice, a leather pouch.
She lowered her muzzle to the drawer and sniffed, then levitated the leather pouch. Her aura tugged at the drawstrings, then tilted it until some white sand spilled onto the desk top. She frowned. The sand looked quite ordinary. She sniffed again, but there was no odor. She reached with a silver-clad hoof to nudge the tiny pile of sand…
A unicorn stallion bowed low, groveled before the throne. “My Queen! Many ponies who opposed you have been locked away in the dungeons. A few still elude us, though.”
The dark queen sat upon her silver throne, clad in polished silver armor, her starry mane and tail flowing in the etherial breeze. Coldly she gazed down upon the stallion and replied, “It matters not, Lord Numbskull. After all, the traitors will have to sleep sometime.”
“Ah. Of course. Very good, Your Majesty.” The pony looked as if he wanted to say more, but merely fidgeted.
Nightmare narrowed her eyes. “What is it?”
“It’s just that… Well, many of your loyal subjects — who acknowledge your supremacy and who adore you and your beautiful night, of course — it’s just that they were wondering if we might possibly get to see the sun again somed… I mean, eventually. Briefly. Just for old time’s sake.”
Nightmare Moon leaned forward, glaring at him. “Go on.”
Lord Numbskull sweated openly. “It’s just that your, um… predecessor… controlled both the sun and moon, and it might give your ponies more confidence if you were seen doing the same.”
“We see. Thy point is well taken. Tell us, dost thou think our little ponies will petition us to raise the sun? Will they entreat us? Will they beg us?”
“Oh yes, Your Majesty! Most certainly!” He bowed again as if to demonstrate.
“If they do, then perhaps we shall…” She paused, letting him wonder for a moment. “…give this proposal the consideration it deserves.”
“Oh thank you, Majesty! Thank you!”
Nightmare Moon waggled a hoof at him. “That is all.” Lord Numbskull scooted backward, head held low, for turning his back on the monarch would be disrespectful. As soon as he’d retreated from the throne room, Nightmare turned to her viceroy, Spell Nexus, and ordered: “Throw him in the Fiery Pit!”
“It shall be done, Majesty!”
Nightmare Moon’s laughter echoed through the great chamber.
“mmm… that’ll show him… teach them all a lesson…” Nightmare Moon muttered, then her eyes blinked open, and she realized she was sprawled awkwardly on the floor. There were wooden furniture legs, and carpet, and a few scattered grains of sand, and she began to remember where she was.
Shakily, she clambered to her feet. She looked at the bag she’d dropped on the desk top and the sand that had spilled. “Powerful mojo,” she muttered. Her horn glowed, and she conjured another pouch, and she poured a generous helping of sand from the one into the other.
She tucked her own pouch into her starry mane where it vanished, then put the original back into the desk. As she was locking it up again, the double doors pushed open, and the two guards she’d sent to the armory stepped in. They seemed more confused than alert as one called out, “Hey! Are you supposed to be in here?”
What a stupid question, she thought to herself as the air crackled around her. Lightning lashed out from her horn, the bolts slamming into the guards and knocking them off their feet. She stepped around the desk, over to where the guards lay. One of them moaned, and his eye twitched and then focused on her. He rasped, weakly, “you… are a very bad dream…”
Nightmare Moon grinned. “Tell me about it!” Then she placed an armored hoof upon his neck and pressed down until he stopped breathing.
Author's Note
I rarely go back and change things that I’ve written, aside from correcting basic writing mistakes. When I got to the Sigil Room in this chapter, I knew I had to go back to Chapter 1 and change Morpheus’s cutie mark. I’d never been really happy with the way I described it before. When I was writing this chapter I slapped myself in the forehead and said, “Duh! Of course all the ponyfied Endless would have their sigils as their cutie marks, including Dream!”
A flash of white outside Spell Nexus’s window alerted him that his expected visitor had arrived. He set down the reports he’d been reviewing, hopped out of his chair, and moved closer to the window of his study. The stately form of Princess Celestia was visible walking down the path, past the fountain, with a pair of pegasus guards following closely.
Rather than rush to greet her, Nexus unhurriedly sorted his papers and put them back into their folders. It was less than a minute before his butler, Proper Etiquette, announced the princess and ushered her in. As per protocol, her guards had stationed themselves outside the front door of his home for the duration of her visit.
Nexus bowed before her august presence. “Your Majesty!”
“It’s good to see you again.” She moved closer and lowered her head to nuzzle him gently. He blushed and fidgeted until she stepped back. She quirked a wry smile and said, “I know… You’re not my eager young student anymore, even though it seems like yesterday to me. I suppose I should allow you the dignity of maturity and station, Headmaster Spell Nexus.”
His blush did not abate. “Thank you! And please, make yourself comfortable.” His horn glowed as he brought forth a large cushion that he kept for just such occasions. He also opened a cabinet. “Would you care for some refreshments? I’ve taken a fancy to fresh orange juice of late. It’s like sunshine in a glass, you know.”
“So I’ve heard. I’m sure somepony in the Citrus Association earned a bonus for that phrase. I’ll pass, but feel free to indulge.” He did so, pouring a glass from a crystal pitcher. Celestia continued, “How are things going at my school? Or should I say your school?”
“Ah, I’m merely a caretaker. It does have your name over the door after all, Princess. And I’m happy to say that all is well. I mean aside from the usual maneuvering among the faculty and requests for more equipment and travel than was budgeted. Nothing surprising. I do have all the most recent reports here for your perusal, if you wish to review any of them.”
“And how are you doing, living here alone in this mansion?”
“Oh, I’m fine. Fit as a fiddle. And Proper Etiquette is highly competent, of course.”
Celestia chuckled softly. “I meant, no special somepony?”
Nexus blushed again. “I… well, uh… I know it’s been a while since Starry Jazz, uh…”
She interrupted his stammering to say, “I didn’t mean to bring up unpleasant memories, but you really should look toward the future.”
“I suppose so.” He turned pensive. “Actually… Now that you mention it, I have been seeing somepony. She’s dark and mysterious, and I don’t know quite what to make of her yet.”
Celestia’s smile was like the sun coming out. “Ooh, how romantic that sounds! I shan’t pry any further, but merely wish you best of luck.”
He smiled and shrugged sheepishly. “Thank you!” He took a sip of his orange juice. Then he asked, “If I might inquire… How are you and Princess Luna doing?”
“Ohh… Luna is having some difficulty catching up with modern times and connecting with today’s ponies, although it’s no worse than I expected. It’s only a matter of waiting for her to come out of her shell, I’m sure. I’m so relieved to have her back and safe, it’s like a great weight was lifted and I can breathe free for the first time in centuries.”
With sincerity he said, “I’m so happy for you. If anypony in this world has earned some peace of mind, surely it’s you.”
Her brow furrowed. “But not complete peace of mind, not yet. Might I bother you for an update on your special research project? The armor…”
He cleared his throat. “Ah, yes. The armor. I have tried scrying it. I’m afraid I don’t have any tangible results yet, nothing I feel comfortable reporting. I have the fragments here, but I do keep them locked up.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Do you think they’re dangerous? Could they cause harm in the wrong hooves?”
“Oh no, I highly doubt that. I’m more worried about contaminating them with my own psychic imprints. I know that may sound unlikely, but it’s best to keep them out of sight, and thus ensure that any future scrying will be clean.”
“Good thinking. Although, I doubt whether any other pony could scry them more effectively than you. If you haven’t come up with anything, maybe there’s really no imprint left to perceive.”
“Perhaps…” He swirled the juice in the bottom of his glass. “I have had a few disturbing dreams involving them.”
Celestia perked up her ears. “Nightmares?”
“No… No, I wouldn’t call them nightmares as such. Strange dreams. Sometimes scrying spells resolve in unexpected ways, and I thought perhaps the dreams were trying to reveal the answers to me. I’d like some more time to find out.”
Celestia nodded. “Of course.”
He looked up at her, searching her eyes. “Might I ask you a question, Princess?”
“Anything, Nexus. Always.”
“Why didn’t you tell me about your sister? In the years I studied under you, you taught me so much ancient lore, and related such wonderful stories of times past, but you never said a word to me — or to anypony else, as far as I know — about Luna.”
Celestia’s gaze lowered, her smile dissolved. “I never meant to deceive anypony. Try to understand, though, that I never expected to see her again. Even if the prophecy of Nightmare Moon’s return was true — and I had some doubts about that — even then I had only a slim thread of hope that Luna could be restored to the loving sister I remembered from so long ago. What would I tell my little ponies? What could I possibly tell them? Should I gird my nation for war against Nightmare Moon? That would be futile, I was sure. And… I was afraid, Spell Nexus. So I said nothing.”
“Afraid? You?”
Celestia chuckled softly. “Shocking, I know. I always try to project strength and confidence, and I think I’ve gotten pretty good at it. But yes, like every pony, I do know fear from time to time.”
“Well, my princess… I shall do my utmost to allay any fears that yet remain.”
Spell Nexus sipped his tea and nibbled a dreamberry scone. “Delightful!” he proclaimed. He looked to his host and added, “It’s quite an honor to be invited into your dream castle. Even if it is only, you know… a figment of my imagination.”
Nightmare Moon set down her own teacup and said, “Still believe that, do you?”
“Aheh… No offense intended. These nocturnal interludes have given me much to think upon. But really, it’s all a bit absurd, isn’t it?”
“You seemed moved by my song when last we met.”
“Moved? Well, perhaps… One says and does the oddest things in dreams, you know.”
Nightmare smiled. “Quite so. But perhaps you are asking the wrong question. It’s not a matter of whether I’m real. After all, this is the dream world, a world of the unreal. So… Perhaps the real Nightmare Moon was destroyed, but the idea of Nightmare Moon lives on. Ideas, visions, points of view are much harder to kill than ponies. And they matter. You mustn’t simply label them unreal and dismiss them.”
Nuala proffered a plate. “Professor? Would you like some violets?”
He nodded and levitated a few. “Thank you, little miss!” He eyed her and ventured, “What sort of being are you, if you don’t mind me asking? Some relative of, hmm… a minotaur, perhaps?”
Nuala gasped, “A minotaur?” Her face scrunched up in an unwittingly cute pout. “What a horrible thing to say!”
Nexus stammered, “I… I didn’t mean… uh… any insult.”
Nightmare Moon nickered and reminded her, “Nuala, do you remember comparing me to a horse? I’m sure Spell Nexus is suffering from a similar sort of misperception.”
“Oh! Oh, I see. I guess if you never saw a fairy before, you might think that. I really don’t know if there’s anything like us at all in your world.”
Nightmare ventured, “I have a theory that fairies might be distantly related to troggles, though I doubt whether there’s any way to prove it.”
“What’s a troggle?” Nuala asked.
“I thought they were extinct,” Nexus added.
Nightmare frowned. “Are they? They weren’t extinct when I was cast into the moon. I suppose much has changed in a thousand years time.” She looked to Nuala and added, “Troggles walked upright like you, but they were bigger and cruder and more, um… piggy. They did have nimble hands, but they rarely used machines more complex than a blackjack or a luger.”
Nuala crossed her arms. “Some sort of goblin, perhaps. That would be a distant relative, yes, though I’d not be heard saying so anywhere around the Seelie Court.”
Nightmare Moon nodded and sipped her tea. Then, “Nuala, I would like to speak with my guest in privacy for a while.”
“Of course, Ma’am.” She curtsied and then slipped out of the room.
Nexus eyed Nightmare curiously. A hungry, eager grin grew on the muzzle of the dark alicorn. She leaned forward to impart her news. “I can live again!”
Nexus blinked. “You what?”
“I’ve figured it all out. To return to Equestria, I’ll need a new body — a physical, living and breathing body to call my own. I’ll need your help to create it, Spell Nexus. You can cast the spell to conjure it.”
Spell Nexus’s mouth hung open as he was flabbergasted for a few moments. Finally he stammered, “I, uh… that… That’s an extraordinarily difficult spell. I’m not even sure it makes sense. I mean, you were Princess Luna. Isn’t her body yours?”
“Not anymore. We’ve been split in twain by the Elements of Harmony, and I do not think we shall be joined again. If I’m to return to Equestria, I must have my own corporeal form — one that is mine alone, uncontested. You hold the key to this. You have the scraps of my armor, the last objects in the world that were mine. You have the talent, the knowledge. You’re the only one who can help me, Spell Nexus.”
He stared down at his plate and muttered, “That’s… That’s necromancy! Raising the dead! But what’s the purpose? What would you do?”
“Must you even ask? I’d do what I was always meant to do. I’d rule over Equestria and bring forth Endless Night.”
“And what of Princess Celestia? What of Princess Luna, for that matter? What will become of them?”
“Feh! They can cool their heels in exile for a few centuries, for all I care. Celestia has had her day in the sun. It’s my turn to rule!”
Spell Nexus scowled and shook his head. “No. You’re asking me to betray my princess, my country. This is madness. Even if I wanted to, the spell you’re asking for is beyond my working. It would require an elaborate ceremony, prepared ground, other talented unicorns assisting…”
“You can recruit them! You have influence!”
They were both silent, staring at one another as if engaged in a test of wills. Eventually Nexus said, “If you were willing to make peace with Celestia instead of trying to overthrow her… If you would give up your mad ambitions, then perhaps I could convey your proposal to Princess Celestia and Princess Luna. If I could convince them you’ve changed, and they gave their assent to the attempt, then I’m willing to try. I won’t do it against their will.”
For the first time in the course of their conversation Nightmare Moon’s face broke into outright anger. She snarled, “They’d never agree! You have to know that. It must be done in secret.”
Spell Nexus closed his eyes. “No… They wouldn’t. Even if you were a saint, I doubt they’d approve raising the dead. Yet all I can do for you, in good conscience, is put the idea before them — and risk Celestia’s disfavor even for that.”
“THAT’S NOT GOOD ENOUGH!” Nightmare Moon stood up, her starry mane and tail fluttering with agitation, and she began pacing. “It’s not right! I was born to rule over Equestria — but instead I was shunned, sidelined, slandered, humiliated. And now this… Shall I languish in limbo forever? No, no, no! It’s intolerable, it can’t stand!”
Spell Nexus stood up and began backing away, eyes wide, ears turned low, but Nightmare rounded on him and said, “You’re the only one who can save me. You can’t leave me in this netherworld. I… I order you to save me! I’m your princess! I command you to save me!”
Shaking, Nexus stammered, “I… I think… I, uh… I want to wake up. I don’t want to have these dreams anymore.” His body began to fade, becoming slightly translucent.
Panic flashed in Nightmare Moon’s eyes. “No! Don’t go!” Her horn began to glow, a spell trying to hold him in sleep. “I’m sorry! Please… Don’t go.” Nexus paused, watching her carefully. She sat down on the floor, closed her eyes for a moment, and said again, more calmly, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you.” She opened her eyes. “I may not have convinced you of the rightness of my cause, but I’d like to think we can remain… friends. Let us not part on bad terms! May I at least show you something before you wake?”
He eyed her warily, though his dream body had become substantial again as his thoughts of waking subsided. “What is it?”
Her horn glowed, and she floated a small pouch out from her mane. “You might think of it as… a blessing. Yes. A blessing to guide you through your darkest night.” She turned the pouch on its side, and grains of sand began to spill out. She caught the sand in the strands of her etherial mane, the white grains of sand mingling with stars like dust.
Spell Nexus moved closer, fascinated by the sight. White motes swirled in the blackness of space, forming tendrils that moved as though alive. He stretched out his muzzle as if to sniff at it. The dark tendrils seemed to sense his nearness — and they pounced, leapt forward to his mouth and nostrils and invaded, forcing their way in. Nexus recoiled, but it was too late. Hooves pawing desperately at his face were no use in stopping the black mass as it flowed into him, choking him, nauseating him, sending cold chills through his body. Drowning, he flailed and writhed helplessly on the floor while Nightmare Moon watched.
After a minute that felt more like hours, his thrashing stopped. Sprawled awkwardly on the floor, Nexus panted. Nightmare Moon spoke, saying, “Now perhaps you’ll understand my dream and feel the living night as I do. With your help, I will live again, and I will create a new Equestria under the eternal stars.”
Spell Nexus opened his eyes, but they looked different from before. Their natural color of slate gray was gone, replaced by luminous cyan, and the pupils had gone to vertical slits like cat’s eyes or dragon’s eyes. They focused upward on the visage of Nightmare Moon, and Spell Nexus gasped out, “Glorious!”
10 - Friendship is Brutal
Dear Princess Celestia,
I regret to inform you that the remaining fragments of Nightmare Moon’s armor have been lost. My home was burglarized last night, with the thieves taking a number of items, including the chest in which I had locked the armor fragments.
The police are, of course, investigating. I have hope that some of my valuables may be recovered, though nothing of mine was taken that I cannot replace. As for the armor… I am deeply sorry that something you entrusted to my care has been lost. However, I send you this missive not with any intent to alarm you, but rather the opposite.
During my attempts to scry the armor I never came away with more than the faintest impressions. I have been forced to conclude that the scraps retain no magical properties or psychic imprints of any consequence. I am sure the thieves will not recognize them as having any value (or perhaps I should say, will correctly recognize them as having no value), and have most likely already discarded them as common rubbish. It seems a fittingly ignominious end to the last relic of Nightmare Moon’s presence in our land.
I am keenly aware that this leaves your original question unanswered, and I can offer no guidance as to what may have led to your sister’s corruption. I can only suggest that you must look for those answers elsewhere, or else accept that the matter may remain forever an unsolved mystery.
Your Most Devoted Servant,
Spell Nexus
Warm light spilled out from the wide windows of the cafe, making the illusion of an oasis among the more dimly-lit city streets, deserted in this wee hour. A lone, white-uniformed attendant refilled the coffee dispenser with fresh brew.
Abel glanced across the V-shaped serving counter. A nattily-dressed couple sat on bar stools across the way, chatting quietly — they didn’t seem close, judging from their demeanor. The man swirled a stirring stick in his coffee. Abel idly wondered if they were strangers who’d encountered one another on the street of dreams, or if one had unconsciously conjured up a dream image of an acquaintance or co-worker.
Breaking into his musings, the man in white brought Abel a plate, a tall glass full of crushed ice, and a curvy bottle. “There ya go. Ham sandwich and a coke.”
“Thuh-thanks.” Abel poured his soda from the bottle into the glass, carefully, not wanting foam to spill over onto the counter top.
The attendant lingered and leaned to peer over the counter. “Hey, buddy… How come you’re barefoot? Didn’t you see the sign?” He jerked his thumb at a piece of cardboard: NO SHIRT, NO SHOES, NO SERVICE.
Abel gulped and looked down at his feet and self-consciously wiggled his toes. “Oh, uhh… S-sorry! I, um… It’s just that you’re not supposed to b-bury people with their shoes on.” He sighed. “I get buried a lot.”
“Man, that’s rough. Well… You don’t look like any hippy I ever saw, so I guess it’s okay.”
Abel nodded. “Thanks,” he said softly. He sniffed the pleasantly warm-and-greasy sandwich, and then took a bite. Food was his comfort whenever he felt stressed, which was often.
Atop the bar stool at his right side, Goldie sniffed the air, then with a flap of his little wings hopped up onto the serving counter. “GARP!” he squawked, and his snout led him toward the sandwich.
Abel glanced around, but the white-uniformed man wasn’t near, wasn’t looking. “Of course you can have a bite.” Abel opened up his sandwich and carefully pinched off a little bit of ham, and set it on the counter for Goldie. The baby gargoyle snapped it up, then started sniffing for more. “Nuh uh, that’s all you need. And you’ll, hmm, get me in trouble.” He picked up Goldie and set him back down onto the bar stool, then went back to his sandwich.
He’d eaten less than half when a dark shape descended to the street outside the cafe’s window. Abel didn’t notice until a soft sizzle of magic and deep blue aura opened the door, and the armored form of Nightmare Moon strolled in. She grinned and said, “Abel, what a surprise! I was just terrorizing some ponies when I sensed your presence nearby.”
Abel hopped off his stool and bowed. “Princess Moon! I, uh… I’m glad to see you. How’s your, hmm… How’s your night going?”
“Please, Abel! You are my friend, you need not bow and scrape before me. And as for my night… Ah well, I still find a tedious exercise in frightening random dreamers, but it does provide some moments of satisfaction.”
Abel stood up and nodded. “I’m glad you’re, uh, getting the hang of it. Oh, I got some news you’ll, hmm, want to hear.” Nightmare Moon perked up her ears, and he continued. “Your nuh-nemesis was found in Frivoli. A bunch of, um, troggles captured it.”
Her eyes widened, and she lifted a hoof and partially opened her wings in surprise. “Captured? Tell me what happened!”
“I, uh, d-don’t know much more. It’s supposed to be a s-secret; that’s the only reason I f-found out.”
She moved closer, pinning him with her gaze. “Somepony told me troggles were extinct.”
He scooted back slightly. “I d-don’t know! Muh-maybe? In the, um, waking world, maybe? There’s still l-lots of them in dreams.”
She folded her wings again and sat down. “I see.” She pondered a moment, frowning, the slow waving of her mane and tail the only motion. Then she turned her gaze to Abel again and asked, “Who else knows about this?”
“Nobody! Nobody outside of, uh, Frivoli, I guess?”
“Well… Well, well. Let’s keep it that way, shall we? This could be the chance I’ve been waiting for. I shall depart for Frivoli immediately.”
Abel’s pony ears drooped. “Are you sure? I mean, uh… Shouldn’t you just, you know… stay away from it? It could huh-hurt you.”
“I’m fated to confront it sooner or later. If it’s a captive now, the advantage is mine. More than that, I have need of it. That creature, my nemesis, is going to open my path back to the living, waking world of Equestria. I must use it for my own ends before I destroy it.”
“You’re ruh-really going to leave the Dreaming? I, uh… I talked with Matthew and he d-didn’t know any way, hmm, besides the two gates.”
“YOU WHAT?” The air around Nightmare Moon sizzled like barely restrained lightning, and the lights of the cafe flickered and dimmed. The other two diners fled for the exit, while the attendant darted into the kitchen. She was focused only on Abel, though. “You told the raven what I was planning?”
He cringed, backing against the serving counter. “No! I mean… I, uh… I only m-mentioned the g-gates. I d-didn’t t-tell him, uh, anything…”
WHOK! An armored hoof slammed into Abel’s face, knocking him down. Before he could move, the same hoof came down upon the side of his head, holding him down. Nightmare growled, “That raven is the Dream King’s personal messenger! His eyes and ears! Didn’t you think at all before you blabbed? You, the keeper of secrets?” As he whimpered she lowered her snout closer to his ear and said more quietly, but with no less menacing tone, “If he tells Morpheus, I’ll come back to you — and I’ll break you so hard, you’ll go running to your brother for comfort.”
The hoof left Abel’s face. Quivering on the floor, he was barely aware as the dark presence retreated and the cafe’s lights brightened. It took him a while to compose himself and sit upright. Goldie fluttered over to him and croaked, “Awrk?”
“It’s okay,” Abel muttered. A warm drop splashed on the floor, and he sniffled. “It’s okay, I’m not crying. Not ruh-really.” He sniffed again and wiped another crimson droplet from his face. “It’s only blood.”
The Sea of Green stretched out before her once more, and under her, and behind her, and after some time she began to wonder if she’d miscalculated and should have rested upon Fiddler’s Green or one of the other islands when she had a chance. At last a dark silhouette of land appeared on the horizon, and Nightmare Moon felt a mixture of relief and foreboding, for she knew that she approached the shores of mysterious Ling. Of this land she’d heard only dark rumors as to its unpleasant nature, its stone monuments of weird and ancient provenance, and the travelers who’d ventured there and were not heard from again — or, if they did return, were never the same. Some even muttered darkly that Ling’s unwholesome inhabitants were not quite equine.
Indeed, she would have preferred to avoid Ling, but any path around it to the north or south would have been long and even more arduous, for neither the high peaks of Xamen or the blasted deserts of the Baklands were to be ventured lightly.
She espied a stone circle, the gray menhirs gnarled with age and stained with moss, perched on a cliff overlooking the sea as if placed there to serve as a sentinel, or perhaps as a warning. Rude dirt trails snaked between primeval stones, proving the site was still in use. Even Nightmare Moon, versed as she was in lore of Dark Magic, shuddered inwardly as she considered the horrid rituals that must have been carried out here. She flapped harder, speeding onward to put distance between herself and that ghastly structure.
As she went inland the terrain of Ling rose quickly, and soon she flew over hills of wild scrubland and dark cedar brakes. Below she glimpsed the occasional shabby hill villages, remarkable only for their drabness and the paucity of cultivated fields, gardens or orchards which one would normally expect to see around such habitation. What sustains these folk, she wondered? Her flight muscles burned, and her thoughts turned to rest and water. Peering downward she sought the glint of reflected moonlight.
There! She turned toward a creek, its winding course marked by the thick growth of trees along its banks, and she stilled her wings to glide. Deep within the canopy of trees a green light flickered, and Nightmare Moon turned aside, suddenly wary. She directed her glide path to a landing far enough from the water, she hoped, to remain unobserved. Throat burning, heart pounding, she stood and panted for a few minutes, and held her wings open to help her body cool until she’d caught her breath. Then she cautiously, slowly picked her way through the scrub brush and greenbriar vines, not casting any spell lest the spark of magic give away her approach — for she feared the vile inhabitants of Ling were as savvy in the ways of Dark Magic as herself, if not more so. She found an animal trail leading down toward the water, so she could move a little more freely. It led her to bank overlooking a pond and to some bushes where she could remain partially concealed.
Three lank, pony-like creatures jostled upon an overhanging ledge of the creek bank, their bodies deep charcoal gray with glints of moonlight flashing in their featureless blue eyes. Nightmare Moon vaguely recalled having seen something like them at the arena where she’d fought Dominus Tusk, though she’d paid them little mind at the time.
One creature’s curved horn glowed with a green aura as it magically lifted a small stone from the shore. The glow became brighter, and the sizzle of magic louder, until the glowing stone suddenly zipped and struck the pond. Water splashed, but the creature that had launched the stone merely grumbled indistinctly. Another lit its horn and repeated the same action, magically firing another stone at the water. This time a silvery fish was thrown out of the water. Instantly it was grabbed by the green glow of magic while the three creatures chirped with glee and rustled their tatty, insectile wings. The wriggling fish levitated over to the shore and dropped into a basket.
Having taken their measure, Nightmare Moon stepped out into the open and neighed to get their attention. Seeing her, the creatures all pointed and gabbled excitedly to one another. One of them shook its wings with a buzzing noise, then flew across the pond, hovering to get a closer look.
“Well met!” Nightmare Moon called.
The creature jumped a little in mid-hover as though startled to be addressed in such a way. Then it moved closer and smiled, its fangs prominently showing. “Merry meet, traveller!” it chattered. “Come and join us if you so desire!”
“Nay! We only wish to take on water and continue our flight.”
“We?” It squinted at her with those curiously featureless blue eyes. “Do you have a mouse in your purse?”
She glared back. “We are Nightmare Moon, Princess of the Night, thou oaf. Mock us at your peril!”
The others fluttered over. “Oooooh!” trilled one. “It’s so prissy! A pretty prissy princess!” It held a hoof to its chest. “I was once a ruler — about twelve inches long.” They tittered.
The third one chattered, “Join us! Join us! There is much sport to be had under the stars.”
She bit back her irritation. They might be silly creatures, but at least they seemed to appreciate the night. After a moment she said, “If ye would share some knowledge of these lands in which we travel, then we might deign to tarry a little while.”
“Woohoo!” A couple of the creatures high-hoofed.
Nightmare Moon started to move down toward the pool, but one of the creatures buzzed to a landing in front of her and exclaimed, “Whoah! Pond water is nowise fit for a pretty prissy princess! Is nastybad, with fishies and turtles, moss and mud! Yuck! Ptui! You must come to the village.”
“Yes! Yes!” chirruped the others hovering nearby. “The village!”
The one who’d blocked her path added, “The ponies in the village can tell you much of this land, and of those nearby. They can answer all your questions. We can lead you there.”
She looked at the creature. “Ponies, you say?” It nodded, grinning. “Very well,” she agreed The pony-like thing darted around her legs, and she turned to follow it up the trail away from the pond. Of its two companions, one collected the basket of fish, tucking it between its wings, and they followed close at her heels.
As they left the creek behind and moved out from the shadows, she had a chance to inspect her escorts more closely. Their bodies were painfully thin, their ears notched, their manes and tails were sparse and ragged, and their insectile wings tattered. Each had a carapace upon its back, likened to that of a beetle, but these were vestigial and appeared incapable of fully covering or protecting the wings. Their legs too, she saw, were shot through with dark welts or pustules, as if infested with parasites. They looked to be starved and sickly creatures, and yet their behavior belied their appearance as they scampered about, hopping and sometimes literally buzzing with nervous energy.
One of them lit its horn and cast globes of green light that danced about, switched on and off in flashing patterns, then popped leaving darkness. Before Nightmare Moon’s eyes could adjust, one of the creatures appeared in a green glow directly in her path, making her stumble. The creatures chittered gleefully, and another one nipped at her flank. She rounded on it and barked, “Stop that!”
It bowed and said, “Beg pardon, Your Majesty!” while the others sniggered and jostled. “Watch your step, Your Majesty! The way is treacherous in the dark. We wouldn’t want you to step in a hole.”
“I can see everything,” she retorted. Her own horn crackled to life, and she picked the creature up in her aura. It squealed and flailed its hooves. Its horn flickered green, but it couldn’t break Nightmare Moon’s spell. “I am tired and my patience is thin,” she warned, and she pawed at the ground with a hoof and gave a snort to signal her irritation. Then she released the creature, dropping it upon one of its companions and tumbling them both into the dead branches and briars that littered the ground alongside the trail. After an awkward scramble to untangle themselves, they got upright and buzzed their wings to lift off. All three of them hovered and glared at Nightmare, showing more wariness than they had before. Sensing she’d gotten their attention, she demanded, “Do ye even have names, strange ones?”
They glanced at one another, and then the one carrying the fish basket chirped, “I have a name! I’m, uh… Rumplestiltskin!” They all chirped with laughter.
Another one raised a hoof. “Me! Me! I’m Snorkeldink Cockletit!” More laughter.
The third bounced in mid-air and said, “I’m Rumblesack Crimpysnitch!”
The one with the basket waved a hoof. “Ooh! Ooh, I’ve got one… I’ll be Whippersnatch Snickersbar!”
Nightmare growled and turned to walk on down the trail. A creature called after her, “Wait! Where are you going, Princess? Won’t you play any more?”
Without turning her head or slowing she called back, “I’ll find the village without your nonsense.”
“Nono! We’ll help, we’ll lead you. We’ll behave.” They rushed forward to hover above her. “You fly ahead to the village and tell them we’re coming, Collywog!” The one with the basket nodded and cast a green globe of light that orbited around it in lazy circles as it zipped away.
The rest of the walk was more peaceful as the two remaining hyperkinetic pony-ish things restrained themselves from any further pranks. They emerged from the woods and saw that the sky had lightened in the east, heralding the coming of another hazy, sunless day, and dim colors began to emerge from the gloom. The dirt trail was wider and more hoof-beaten as they passed farm steads. The fields on either side were brown with caked mud, and the few penned animals were thin and wizened like thirsty vines. Round huts were daubed with reddish clay and their rooftops thinly thatched. As they passed, eyes appeared at dark doorways, tracking their every move.
By the trail stood a post with a board nailed up and painted to make a rude sign: BUGTOWN
A lone street, thin and narrow, ran through the center of town, and the buildings were set close together as if trying to withstand a storm. Litter surrounded the buildings, and a pungent reek hung in the air. A few ponies ventured into the street, their forms indistinct in the pre-dawn light. As they approached, Nightmare Moon could see their leanness, the dirtiness and dullness of their coats and manes, bags under their eyes, and the lethargy of their movements. Such clothing as they had was earthy in color, ragged and patched.
The handful of ponies grew to more than dozen while Nightmare shuffled her hooves and waited for any of them to speak or come closer. When her patience had run out, she announced, loudly, “Peasants of this humble village, harken! Your princess of the night hath arrived!” The ponies only stirred uncertainly. Unsatisfied with their response, Nightmare Moon reared upon her hind legs and then slammed her front hooves into the ground with a report like a thunderclap, and she shouted, “BOW DOWN!”
They did. As she walked past them, not bothering to meet the gaze of any one of them. “We require food and drink, and lodgings wherein we might rest during the day before continuing our journey. We also require any information ye can provide about Frivoli, and any tidings ye may have received from there as of late.” She came to a stop, glanced over the still-groveling villagers and commanded, “All rise! And attend to our needs!”
They rose and began shuffling about, though without any great demonstration of vim or vigor. A gray-coated stallion introduced himself to her, in leaden tones, as a village elder, and he invited her into his home. When she asked his name, he appeared to think about it for a few moments before answering, “Hubert Cumberdale”. She looked around then and asked him what had happened to the creatures who led her to the village, they having slipped away from her view early on. The question seemed to confuse the pony, as he merely echoed, “Creatures? I know not of such things.”
He led her into one of the largest hovels, to a dining hall with a roughly finished wooden table. Other ponies began to bring in water and simple fare: plain oatmeal, boiled turnips and a few limp carrots. So unappetizing was this provender that Nightmare wondered if she’d better go outside and graze. Given that this village appeared desperately poor, she sighed inwardly and accepted that there was, in all likelihood, nothing better to be had here, not even for visiting royalty. Her needs compelled her to eat and drink while the other ponies looked on, quiet and impassive.
As soon as she began to feel satisfied, she turned to her host and began to question him. “Hubert Cumberdale! What wottest thou of Frivoli?” she asked. “Hast thou heard tell of any other traveller likened to us?” His preferred answer to any question seemed to be a dazed and slack-jawed shake of his head. Her irritation grew. “Art thou a lackwit? Answer!” He stared at the ground where he sat, and shook his head again.
Nightmare Moon began to stand up, growling with the intent to thrash him a bit, but she stumbled. Her limbs felt numb, her head dizzy. She tried to cast a spell, but it fizzled, and she sprawled awkwardly on the floor. She tried again to gain control of her legs, but only managed to roll onto her side as the room darkened around her. Somewhere nearby was a green flash of magic, and she was barely aware of dark shapes closing around her before everything faded away.
When awareness returned, Nightmare Moon felt chilled and almost weightless. She knew she should try to move, but for some reason had great difficulty summoning the will. Despite the hazy muddle of her mind, she realized her difficulty was much like the hypnotic paralysis that usually prevents dreamers from sleepwalking. She tried again but managed only a weak twitch. She forced her eyes open, revealing little more than a dim green light. She bit back a feeling of nausea.
She forced a few more spasms of her limbs, probing the bounds of her cell — for trapped she was. After a minute her mouth twisted into a disgusted grimace as she concluded she was suspended upside-down in some sort of bag, or sac, or cocoon filled with a viscous green ichor that weakened her but curiously didn’t prevent her from breathing. She tried casting a spell, but it was impossible for the magic to coalesce while her horn was immersed in that vile green substance.
The light grew brighter, and a pair of dark shapes appeared close enough to vaguely recognize even through the weird distortions of the cocoon. One resembled the pony-like things that had led her to the village. The other was much larger, with a prominent and gnarled horn, and some sort of more developed mane instead of a mere ragged remnant, although fine details were impossible to make out through the ripples of the ichor. A voice spoke, muffled by the cocoon, but with the same harsh rasp she’d heard before. “We took her unawares, My Queen. She seems to have forgotten all about us from before.”
The voice that answered had a more feminine tone, though weirdly distorted. “A fine catch, Gribble. I am not sure this is the same one that slipped away from us. She does look the same, and yet this armor is new, and so is the sigil mark upon her hip.”
Nightmare Moon tried to speak, to call out to them, but even though the green fluid in her throat did not suffocate her, neither could she utter any sound through its choking mass. She convulsed, jiggling the cocoon.
The smaller creature buzzed. “This one is strong, Your Majesty! But her flavor is bitter, so bitter. What shall we do with her?”
“Let’s put her into storage for now, shall we? Let her season a bit while I mull this over.” The cocoon wriggled again, and the queen moved closer, peering into it. “Don’t struggle, Princess! Soon my changelings will take away your fears… your thoughts… your vital essence.” Her misshapen horn glowed green, and Nightmare Moon felt her consciousness slip away again.
Nightmare Moon’s mind struggled through the dizziness and the unhinged, rambling thoughts of her hypnagogic state, not dreaming but somewhere in the foggy area between consciousness and oblivion. Her disembodied semi-consciousness stumbled through the haze, catching glimpses of places that didn’t quite manage to coalesce into anything tangible or recognizable. The murky chaos around her was oddly familiar, though, and her addled mind very slowly pieced together bits of knowledge from her long experience with the dream world. These were the borders of the Shifting Zones. She’d been found there, barely alive, after her disastrous encounter with Princess Luna.
She froze, paralyzed for a moment with fear and indecision. She began to remember her capture by the changelings. She’d been cocooned! If she forced her way through this haze, she could emerge where she had before, on the shores of the Nightmare Realm. She could escape from Ling, but she’d almost been destroyed the last time she’d passed through the Shifting Zones. Even if she survived a second passage thereof, she would lose any chance of tracking down her nemesis.
She took a step back. Then, making her decision, she began to wake herself. She stamped her hoof, shook her head, snorted. The gestures were symbolic, lacking physical presence, but they helped focus her mind. She had to reconnect with her real body. No, wait… That wasn’t right. She didn’t have a real body anymore. She shook her head again and squeezed her eyes shut. Her thoughts were trying to ramble again, but she couldn’t allow that. She had to focus. She had to connect with her dream body, still trapped in Ling. She had to awake there. She could do it, if she could just stay focused.
Was this how Morpheus moved around the Dreaming? Did he connect mentally to a new avatar, a new dream image of himself, in whatever part of his vast realm he wished to visit? Nightmare Moon bit her lip, frustrated, trying to stop her thoughts from wandering off track yet again. She thought, “My body! I have to concentrate.”
She tried to stamp again, but this time she felt a tingle. It was different, the hoof of her dream body back in Ling had moved. She forced another twitch. She took a breath, but it felt thick and sluggish. It felt as though something other than air was moving through her nostrils and lungs. The cocoon! She was still in it, still breathing its vile ichor.
She forced her eyes open but could see little, only an indistinct green glow. She was nauseous, chilled and weak, but her thoughts were clearer and no longer at risk of slipping back into the Shifting Zones. She tried focusing on her magic, channeling it into her horn. As before, the magic couldn’t form into a spell while her horn was immersed in the viscous fluid of the cocoon. She did, however, still have some sensations of the flow of etherial energies.
With an inward shudder she realized those energies were flowing out of her. Someone, or something, was drawing them out of her, siphoning her vital essence away. The drain was a trickle, not a flood, but given enough time it would reduce her to a magicless, mindless, emotionless shell of a pony.
She had to escape. Her first impulse was to puncture the cocoon with the sharp tip of her horn. She tossed her head, making a sharp jab at the membrane. She felt it connect and snag on the tough material. She jabbed again. Few things could resist a determined strike from an alicorn, but she was in no position to deliver such a direct blow. She jabbed again.
A sharp blow jolted her shoulder, making her wince and grit her teeth. A large green eye peered into the cocoon, and the same weirdly distorted voice she’d heard before said, “That’s enough, Princess! You’re a stubborn one, but you aren’t going anywhere for a while, so you’d better just settle down.” Nightmare Moon could barely make out the green glow of her captor’s misshapen horn before a spell hit. Her stomach heaved, and a wave of dizziness sent her reeling back to the semi-conscious state that she’d only recently escaped.
She was nearly lost then, but no pony was more wise in the ways of sleeping and waking. With skill and determination she manipulated her thoughts, clinging to a thin thread of consciousness as it wound its way through the hypnagogic swamp, past the many pools where the unwary might slip into the Shifting Zones. Perilous as her situation seemed, she was beginning to get the hang of this, and she once again forced her way back to her dream body in the cocoon and opened her eyes again.
Her vital essence was still leaking away, and a dim, indistinct glow was again visible outside the cocoon. She had to assume she was being watched. She closed her eyes and thought. She was too weak to physically break out of the cocoon. She couldn’t cast spells. She had nothing; even her armor had been taken.
Wait… With her armor gone, her mane had reverted to its physical form: a mass of indigo-blue hair tangled around her in the green goo. Perhaps the item she’d been carrying in her mane might have materialized as well — if only she could reach it. She began working her arm, shifting it within the tight confines of the cocoon. She moved it slowly, an inch at a time, working it upward to her mane. A hoof is a blunt, insensitive instrument, and her attempts to grope around through her own tresses were slow and frustrating work. From time to time she had to stop and rest, while her abused foreleg ached from the position she’d forced it into.
She felt her hoof bump something, a lump. She prodded it, worried it, feeling the lump tug at her hair. A sparkly fleck came into view, settling slowly through the green ichor in which she was suspended. Yes! She jostled the bag again with her hoof, and more grains of dream sand filtered down. They swirled, caught up in the flow of magical energy that was being drawn from her. She watched as grains drifted out of the cocoon, its tough membrane no obstacle at all.
The leaching flow of energy faltered, then stopped, and the dim glow vanished with it. She could only guess what was happening outside the cocoon. She tossed her head as she had earlier, jabbing again at the cocoon’s walls with her horn. She jabbed again and again. She could feel when something started to give. She jammed her front hooves against the membrane and ripped at it with the tip of her horn. The green goo was already flowing, oozing past her and spilling out through the rips she’d made. She got a hoof through and used her arm to pry the opening wider.
It ripped open and dumped her out onto a cold, stone floor. She coughed up a frightful amount of green slime from her lungs, wiped it from her eyes with the side of her pastern, and crawled out from under the still-dripping remnants of the cocoon. Then she stood up and gave herself a thorough shake, sending gobs of slime flying in all directions.
Now that she was breathing air again, she nearly gagged on its acrid stench. A few scattered green glows, perhaps from phosphorescent fungi, dimly illuminated the cavern, and dozens of cocoons hung from its ceiling with a pony suspended in each. Slumped on the floor nearby was the changeling queen. Nightmare Moon stumbled over to get a closer look. The queen was similar in size to herself, but deep charcoal gray, her horn grotesquely twisted, and behind it sprouted a crest of fleshy tendrils that together formed a loathsome mockery of a crown. Her eyes were closed in slumber.
As Nightmare watched, the queen twitched the tell-tale impulse of a dreamer. A snake-like forked tongue flitted out for an instant, then a smile formed between her protruding fangs, and she muttered in her sleep, “This day is going to be perfect”.
Nightmare scowled and considered taking retribution on her foe, but pity stayed her hoof. “It’s a pity I’m so weakened and surrounded by possibly hundreds of other changelings,” she thought to herself. “Even if I could defeat their queen, they’d pursue me to the ends of the Dreaming for harming her.”
Her thoughts turned to escape. She chose a random direction and worked her way through the cavern. She noticed a cocoon with a thin stream of mist flowing down from it, down to a dark lump on the rocky floor of the cavern. She belatedly recognized the lump as a changeling huddled with its eyes closed and wings folded flat but its mouth gaping open as it sucked in the mist. It was feeding upon the vital essence of a pony just as the queen must have fed from her. She moved on, but she soon saw more of the feeding changelings. Luckily, they seemed barely aware of their surroundings while they fed, and Nightmare Moon was able to slip past them in the shadows.
She couldn’t tell if she was moving towards an exit or deeper into the caverns. The walls were riddled with rough openings, some with packed soil trod by many feet, others appearing only as disused crevices. She chose a well-travelled passage, reasoning that the way out of the caverns must be one such.
A faint glow of magic was enough to see her way. The tunnels had been smoothed somewhat by their insectile inhabitants, but they were sized for a normal changeling, not for the comfort of a pony with Nightmare Moon’s stature. She crouched awkwardly and kept her head low, lest her lengthy horn hit the ceiling. After banging it against an outcrop of rock for the fifth time, she uttered most un-ladylike words. Moreover, the floor and walls of the tunnel were filthy with black manganese deposits, a slippery substance that adhered to everything, and very soon she was filthy as well.
After some distance she heard strange sounds echoing from somewhere ahead, buzzing and grinding. She moved cautiously to where the tunnel opened up, and there found herself on a ledge overlooking a lower chamber. The walls below were smooth and white as bleached bone, and several changelings were busy cleaning them, scraping away some sort of fungus and collecting it in baskets. Nightmare Moon killed the glow from her horn, but not quickly enough. One of the creatures stopped its work and sat up, peering toward the dark opening into which she had retreated. It squinted and sniffed. Then one of its comrades thumped its shoulder and chittered, and it shrugged and returned to the task.
She looked across the chamber to the opposite opening. The ledge led straight to it, and the path was dark. If she could stay in the shadows and avoid sudden moves, she might make it across without raising alarm. Indeed, lacking her armor and covered with manganese, her mane and tail matted down with dried slime, from a distance she didn’t actually look that much different from a changeling. Holding her breath, looking straight ahead, she walked across. There was no alarm, only continued buzzing from the workers below. Nightmare Moon breathed a sigh of relief, re-lit her horn, and continued through the tunnel.
She’d hardly gone any distance when a skittering noise came from ahead. She tried to back up, but it was no use as a changeling came scurrying and skidded to a halt, almost colliding with her. It gave a startled squawk while she shuffled backward as quickly as she could in the cramped confines of the tunnel.
The changeling opened its mouth and shrieked while also pulsing its wings rapidly, the two sounds combining into a warbling alarm as piercing as a cicada’s call. Answering calls came echoing up the tunnel from the workroom behind Nightmare Moon. In panic she cast a spell, one that was second nature to her and required little energy, attempting to put the changeling ahead of her to sleep. The changeling’s alarm call faltered, and it slumped, groggy but still conscious.
The sounds from behind grew louder. Nightmare Moon charged forward, trying to squeeze past the slow and sleepy changeling, but she hung up in the narrow tunnel. She grunted with effort while the changeling squealed and wriggled. For a moment it seemed they’d both be jammed solidly in place, until a few strong kicks broke her loose. Then she raced forward down the tunnel hardly noticing the bumps and scrapes she picked up along the way.
The penetrating, high-pitched buzz of alarm seemed to echo from all directions, as though the entire hive was picking it up. She tumbled into a chamber occupied by two shrieking changelings. She tried to cast her favored weapon, lightning bolts, but the resulting sparks were hardly worthy of the name. Startled and stung, the changelings yelped and tried an uncoordinated charge. Tossing her head she knocked them aside, and she dove into another tunnel entrance.
She cursed inwardly as she raced through the larger tunnel, for it led downward. A buzz from behind signaled pursuit, but sounds of changelings echoed all around. She ducked into a side passage, which quickly narrowed, and she found herself squeezing through the entrance of a rough, natural chamber, empty save for rocky rubble and some worn-out baskets, bones, and other refuse that had been tossed in a heap near the entrance. Nightmare Moon explored the irregular chamber as quickly as she could, picking her way over the treacherous piles of rocks, looking for more passages. She found only crevices that neither she nor the changelings could possibly squeeze through.
She could hear buzzing and sounds of movement echoing weirdly through the cave passages, but they didn’t seem to be coming closer. Perhaps her turn down the side passage had bought her a few moments respite. She closed her eyes for a moment and tried to think. Alone, unarmed, pursued by hostile changelings, with no idea which way was out and unable to cast more than the simplest spells, what could she do?
No. That wasn’t right. She wasn’t limited to simple spells, only weak ones. She still had all her knowledge of the art, plus something extra. Her horn glowed as she carefully teased apart the matted and tangled horsehair of her mane and plucked out the bag that had been stuck there ever since she broke out of the cocoon. She tilted the bag and scattered some dream sand on a small area of the cave’s floor. This was a gamble, and she could only hope a certain friend of hers was asleep, perchance to dream. If he was…
Her deep blue aura came to life, and a cloud of blue smoke erupted from the floor of the cavern. When it cleared, the burly figure of a minotaur stood there, armored and clutching a heavy mace in one hand. He looked around, blinking in the darkness. “Where am I? How did I get here?”
“I summoned you,” she told him, drawing his startled gaze as she increased the light from her horn.
His eyes wandered over her naked form, her scraped knees, her hide and matted mane plastered with dried slime, and a coating of black manganese grime. He exclaimed, “Nightmare Moon! What’s happened to you?”
She held her head high, maintaining regal bearing. “I am in desperate straits, and I need your aid. I defeated you in battle before, Dominus Tusk. Will you fight at my side now?”
It took a few seconds, but a grin grew upon his countenance, and he answered, “Never let it be said that Dominus Tusk shuns the fray!” He knelt before her, hands upon the pommel of his mace. “To champion you is my honor, Princess.”
The buzzing and skittering sounds echoed through the caves more loudly. Nightmare Moon lowered her head, dipped her slender horn to touch Tusk’s shoulder, and then said, “Rise, my champion, and ready yourself! They’re coming!”
Despite having no idea what foe he was about to face, Dominus Tusk cannily moved to the side of the chamber’s entrance and clutched his mace tightly with both hands. Nightmare Moon stood directly in front of the entrance, light spilling out from the tip of her horn.
A changeling popped out of the hole and barely had time to gawp at Nightmare Moon before Tusk’s mace came down on it. From behind came a shrill screech of alarm as another changeling retreated up the passageway.
“We can’t let them trap us in here,” Nightmare Moon declared. “We have to fight our way out quickly before they block the tunnel.”
Tusk dragged the clobbered changeling out of the opening and tossed it aside, then started into the tunnel himself — or tried to. He struggled for a moment, grunting with effort and twisting his head and broad shoulders. “Uhh… I’m not sure I can fit through here.”
“I’d forgotten how big you are,” Nightmare admitted. A blue glow surrounded him as she tried to shove him forward into the tunnel.
“Agh! No no! That’s not working.” His legs flailed helplessly.
She stopped trying to force him. “Hmm… Maybe I can shrink you.”
“I don’t want to shrink!”
Her horn glowed again. “Just a little.”
“I don’t want to be little!” he bellowed, but the magic was already working, and in a moment he was reduced to a size more like Nightmare Moon — thus, still much bigger than a typical changeling. Luckily, the magic scaled down his armor and weapon to match.
“It’s only temporary, but you wouldn’t have made it far in these tunnels as you were,” she explained. Grumbling, but accepting the all-too-evident truth, he went into the tunnel. Even at this reduced size he still had to be careful of his horns. She called after him, “Hold the intersection and buy me a few minutes! I have more spells to cast before I join you there.”
Since she’d been free her magic was beginning to recover, for the reserves of an alicorn are deep. She concentrated and cast a spell to summon her armor — difficult without knowing where it was, but after a few moments she locked onto it. As she donned the armor, her mane and tail went etherial again, and the dirt of the caverns fell away from her body. She smiled; it felt good.
Next she went to the heap of refuse she’d seen when she first found this place. She rummaged with her magic and lifted up a broken jawbone. The canine teeth confirmed what she’d suspected, that this was not the remnant of a pony. With her magic she plucked teeth from the bone and tucked them away in her mane. She tossed the jawbone aside and followed Dominus Tusk into the tunnel.
Sounds came to her ears, of changelings chittering and screeching, their cries weirdly distorted as they echoed through the tunnel system. She found Tusk gamely holding off a pair of the hissing creatures with threatening jabs of his mace. Her own altered appearance brought barely a second glance, as he had more important concerns. “What are these things?” he asked.
She answered, “Their queen called them changelings, but I know little more than that. I think they feed on the vital essence of ponies.”
One of them cast a spell from its horn, but Tusk deflected the green bolt with his mace, sparks spanging off its solid head, then he lunged with a counterstrike and forced the changelings to retreat. He laughed, “They don’t seem so dangerous, and they sure don’t like the taste of cold iron!”
“Don’t get cocky!” she admonished. “There could be thousands of them. We must find our way out of here before they mass against us. Take the lead while I hold these back!”
He nodded and dived into the tunnel. Nightmare Moon fired a magical bolt toward the huddled, hissing changelings as a warning shot to make them stay back, then she followed her friend. A skittering from behind told her the changelings were following, even if they kept their distance for the moment. Tusk moved slower than she had hoped, and she had to fire a few warning shots from her horn, harmless fireworks really, to keep their pursuers from getting too close. Then she heard a strangled cry from ahead. She rushed forward to find the minotaur stuck in a web of green goo that had been stretched across the tunnel. He strained to pull free, but a changeling was spraying green magic from its horn, which materialized into more goo to reinforce the web. Another quickly joined and added its own stream.
Nightmare Moon fired back with her own magic, a blue beam that dissolved the green goo instantly. Dominus Tusk fell back, while Nightmare picked up the two changelings with her aura and flung them back into the darkness. A flicker of green light came from behind, and she spun to see Tusk slam yet another changeling with his mace. His armor had been splashed with more green goo, which she quickly removed. She told him, “We need to move faster.”
“I can hardly tell where I’m going. I can’t see in the dark.”
Nightmare cursed under her breath and cast a spell, and Tusk flinched from the sudden light in his eyes. “Now you can!” she said. “Go!”
He blinked a couple of times, waved his free hand in front of his face, and then nodded and dived into the tunnel again, now moving with far greater confidence. Soon they encountered another blockage of hardened green material, but Nightmare Moon’s magic made short work of it, and they dashed through. Beyond it the corridor opened up to form a wide space with a natural bridge of stone reaching across and dark drop-offs to either side.
They paused only for a moment, eyes scanning left and right, ears perked up. Then, “Across!” Nightmare Moon said, and they dashed onto the span. As soon as they moved, glints of blue eyes peppered the dark ceiling of the cavern, and more than a dozen changelings dropped onto them.
Nightmare Moon whinnied and reared up; her powerful wings opened reflexively and knocked some changelings aside. Tusk tried to twist around and get a changeling off his back, but found himself slipping off the narrow bridge. The changelings had no such difficulty, hovering easily and darting in to deliver kicks. He clung to the bridge while changelings pelted him with painful blows to his arms and legs. One tried to kick him in the head, but a toss of his head nailed it with a horn and sent it spinning away. Lightning crackled nearby, as Nightmare struck back at the swarm with her magic.
Tusk tried to get to his feet, but a changeling shot a stream of magic that congealed into green slime — slippery slime rather than the sticky goo he’d encountered before. He felt himself sliding over the edge. “I can’t hold on!” he yelled.
Nightmare Moon saw him and yelled, “Tusk!” Her blue aura started to form around him, but just then a changeling bucked the back of her head, its hind feet clanging on her helmet, and she lost her grip. There was never a feeling of helplessness worse than the one in the pit of Dominus Tusk’s belly as he tumbled into the darkness expecting nothing more than to be broken at the bottom of a pit.
A couple of heartbeats later that doom was denied with a cold splash. He thrashed his limbs in the dark pool, utterly disoriented, pain shooting through one of his horns that had struck a rock in the water. A dim light filtered through the water to his magically enhanced eyes, just enough to guess which way was up. Weighted by his armor, and by the mace which he still retained by its wrist strap, he struggled to reach air. For a moment he feared he’d have to drop his weapon, but then his hand caught upon stone, and he began to pull himself up. He caught a glimpse of something swimming around him, something with lots of sharp teeth, and he began to pull himself up faster.
Finding air, he coughed and gasped, and he hastily swatted away the toothy fish and scrambled out of the water, onto the rocks. He flopped onto his back, coughing more and trying to catch his breath. Far above flickered green, blue and white lights accompanied by the sounds of continuing battle. He reached to feel his horn; it was cracked and bleeding, but not broken outright.
A loud splash startled him as a stunned changeling tumbled into the water. He looked upward to see another spiraling downward, out of control. He scrambled out of the way, pressing himself under an overhang of rock. The changeling impacted the ground with a gruesome thud, then slid into the pool.
Nightmare Moon, after failing to catch Tusk when he fell, battled her way across the bridge, using her wings to keep herself balanced and upright while the changelings tried to trip her or knock her off the stone arch. Several times she released lightning to stun her assailants, but the constant drain on her magic took a toll. After getting off the bridge and onto firm ground, she spun around, reared up and neighed a loud challenge. Somewhat to her surprise, they backed off, intimidated. She tossed her head and pawed at the dirt with a hoof to drive the message home, and the changelings backed further away.
An arm reached up from the pit, and the familiar form of a minotaur climbed over the edge. Relief flooded through Nightmare Moon. “Dominus Tusk! I thought I’d lost you. Are you able to fight?” He nodded dumbly, looking dazed and missing his weapon. Nightmare added, “Then let us make with our escape!” She turned to follow the passage into darkness, but she’d hardly begun to move when she was tackled from behind. Tusk locked her neck in an iron grip and twisted violently, throwing her to the ground. She whinnied and flailed her legs, trying to find something to strike out against. A buzz of insectile wings filled the air as the changelings swarmed forward to spray streams of green magic at her.
Nightmare Moon’s horn glowed and she hurled the changelings away with brute telekinetic power, slamming them against the rock walls and ceiling. Another spell targeted the minotaur, which shrieked unnaturally as green flames washed over it, and it shrank to the form of another changeling and slumped unconscious. Shaken, Nightmare Moon picked herself up, then prodded the creature. “I guess that’s why they’re called changelings,” she muttered to herself. Then her eyes swiveled to look up at her horn, from which smoke was rising. “Oh. That can’t be good.” She hobbled away into the rough corridor before more changelings could arrive.
Dominus Tusk stumbled through a maze of twisty little passages, all alike. In the darkness so black that even his enchanted eyesight showed little, he feared he might be pounced upon by a grue or a wumpus or one of the many other underground-dwelling monsters he’d heard tales of. He tried to pick paths leading upward whenever he could, but it was hard to be sure. He muttered to himself, “A maze… Why did it have to be a maze?”
He found an opening to a higher level and climbed into a dry chamber with smooth walls like he’d seen before. Immediately a pair of changelings moved to confront him, hissing and spitting, baring their fangs and shaking their wings aggressively. Behind them others scrambled to gather oblong white objects and carry them away. Tusk blinked in confusion. Were those eggs and grubs? Did they think he wanted to attack their children? He felt a momentary pang of remorse at having incited such fear. He wasn’t that kind of monster, but he supposed the changelings couldn’t know that.
He held up his left hand in a defensive gesture, feeling a measure of respect for the changelings as they tried to ward him away — a futile gesture if he’d truly wished to fight past them. A tense standoff prevailed for a few moments as he sought a way out. He glanced upward. The ceiling was very high, and indeed there seemed to be yet another cavern level above. Making his choice, he slung his mace at his side and began to climb. The changelings took flight and made threatening dives toward him, but they were only feints, and they did not follow as he climbed out of the nursery.
The higher cave level in which he emerged glittered. Dim light came from a few scattered crystals that the changelings had enchanted to glow emerald green, but jewel-like reflections sparkled everywhere. There must have been countless tons of calcite crystal embedded in the walls and the rocky debris that partially filled the large room. Somewhere in the distance changeling alarm calls still echoed; he guessed those from the nursery were alerting the rest of the hive to his movements. He picked his way around and over crystal-studded boulders, not expecting to find a foot path since the room was large enough for changelings to fly through. All the time he moved toward the end of the room that sloped upward, hoping a path would lead further up from there.
A light appeared ahead, giving him pause, but then he could see the outline of a large pony, and a familiar, female voice called out, “Over here!” A raven-black wing waved to beckon him on.
He hurried forward, chuckling with relief. “Princess! I thought I’d never find you again.”
She tossed her head, pointing with her horn, and said, “Follow me, quickly!” If he noticed her mane and tail had gone solid again and her horn sparkled with emerald light instead of the usual blue, what of it? The ways of magic were a deep mystery to him. He moved quickly to keep up, following where she led.
They went into a much darker chamber. If not for the enchantment on his eyes, he would have been blind. As it was, he spotted sinister outlines, and he realized with horror that changelings had positioned themselves in front of each of the glow-crystals in the room, blocking the light. “IT’S A TRAP!” he yelled, at which the changelings launched themselves into the air to attack.
As soon as they moved, the light from the crystals revealed another sparkling wasteland of calcite crystals. These the changelings used as weapons, levitating chunks of crystal with their magic and hurling them at the minotaur. Some impacted his armor, but his head and limbs were exposed, and his natural hide, tough as it may be, was vulnerable to the jagged edges of crystal. Bellowing in pain, he swung his mace wildly, but the changelings easily stated out of reach. Desperately he tried to block some of the projectiles while he retreated. However, his mace sparkled with green light as a magical force grabbed it. “You won’t be needing that!” Nightmare Moon snarled, her horn glowing brightly as she pulled.
“What!? Let go, let go!” Confused and hurting, he waged tug-of-war with Nightmare Moon while the jagged crystals continued to pelt him. A particularly painful one hit his elbow, and his grip on the mace slipped. The strap burned as it slipped past his wrist, and the mace went flying. Caught by surprise, Nightmare Moon was smacked in the face and knocked to the ground. A green flare engulfed her, and a changeling was revealed in her place.
“A TRICK!” Enraged, Dominus Tusk picked up a large chunk of calcite with both hands and hurled it at one of the hovering changelings, knocking it for a loop. He grabbed another stone and chucked it, catching a changeling with a glancing blow. The remainder of them retreated back into the shadows and crawled out of sight.
Panting, bloodied and bruised, he went to retrieve his weapon. The one that had tried to take it from him was crawling away, injured. “I guess that’s why they’re called changelings,” Tusk muttered.
Further on, Dominus Tusk found an opening sealed with green resin. He bashed through it with his mace and entered what proved to be a storage room with dozens of green pods hanging from the ceiling. He peered closely to see that each had a pony suspended inside. He cursed under his breath, “Noi j’etat! Such evil!” Any sympathy he’d felt earlier for the changelings now dissolved.
He perked his ears when something moved outside the chamber, and he ducked behind a pod. Peering around it, he glimpsed a dark shape and a flash of deep midnight blue haze studded with stars. “In here!” he called out.
The shape froze in place for a moment, then shifted, and Nightmare Moon’s luminous draconic eyes peered into the room. “Dominus Tusk? Is that really you?”
He stepped out from behind the pod, warily clutching his mace. “I could ask the same question.”
She frowned, then her horn glowed and Tusk felt a prickly feeling wash over him, like thousands of tiny sparks of static electricity. She said, “You seem to be the real thing. A changeling disguised itself as you, but it did not have your weapon.”
He nodded. “Aye. One of them pretended to be you as well, and it fooled me for a minute. But I don’t think it could mimic your mane. Maybe they won’t be able to trick us that way again.”
“Let us hope not! They will have less opportunity to confuse us if we can stay together.” A rare look of contrition flickered across her features. “I… err… regret that I was unable to catch you when you fell.”
“Think nothing of it! It’ll take more than a tumble to end Dominus Tusk. But look at these pods! Those are ponies trapped inside. Maybe we can free them?”
Nightmare Moon quirked an eyebrow. “How would that aid our escape?”
Tusk blinked. “uhh… Don’t you want to help them?”
“That would only slow us down. Every moment we spend in these caves gives the changelings more opportunities to box us in and recapture us. Come along, let us find our way out!”
He glanced at the nearest pod again, and then back to her, and he began to open his mouth as if to speak. As he met her gaze, though, and took the measure of her countenance and her demeanor, something told him there was nothing to gain by arguing the point. Instead he merely said, in a subdued tone, “As you wish… Princess.” She nodded curtly and turned to leave the chamber. He followed, but not without a troubled backward glance at those he was leaving behind.
Author's Note
This little diversion through Ling has grown into more than I had planned. I'll wrap it up in the next installment!
As they moved onward, they left behind the vast formations of calcite crystals. They caught glimpses of changelings: glints of their featureless blue eyes, rustles of wings and skittering sounds as they moved about. However, the creatures did not seem eager for another confrontation as they kept their distance and stayed in the shadows. Observing this, Tusk said, “I doubt they’ll let us walk out peacefully.”
“It would go better for them if they did,” Nightmare Moon replied. She moved closer and whispered, “My magical powers are returning, but they are depleted whenever I cast spells in battle. I must conserve some strength for our final escape.” He nodded his understanding and moved to take the lead.
They passed through an intersection with multiple passages, choosing the largest. Unlike the irregular natural cavern passages or the cramped, tube-like tunnels the changelings had (presumably) made, this tunnel was large and rectangular in profile, more like a mine shaft. Tusk wondered if it was exactly that: an old mine shaft taken over by the changelings. To his dismay it angled downward, but he pressed onward with Nightmare Moon following closely.
It led to an opening from which the decayed remnants of a heavy wooden door hung, propped open. They ventured out into the biggest cavern room they’d seen. A pond filled the lower reaches, embraced by a crescent-shaped bar of gravel upon which they now stood. Slanting up from the basin was another stone bridge, this one making half a spiral upward to a ledge.
Nightmare Moon looked upward and pointed with her horn. “There, do you see? A glow of daylight! Somewhere up there is a shaft to the surface.”
As they stared upward toward the dim light, silhouettes began to pop up on the bridge, and luminous blue eyes blinked open in the dark spaces all around the cavern. Tusk lifted his mace and growled, “There’s a lot of them. I think they mean to stop us right here. I can’t fight them all.”
“You won’t have to.” Nightmare’s horn lit up, and the handful of teeth she’d collected earlier spilled out of the starry void that passed for her mane. With her magic she flung them across the ground. Where each tooth fell, a cloud of midnight blue smoke erupted, sparkling with magic. In a second the smoke cleared revealing hunched, bipedal forms.
Dog-like they were, wild and wolfish in their features, with long snouts and prominent canine teeth. The splint-mail armor they wore was as cheap and nasty as the rude war clubs they clutched in their blunt-clawed hands. Tusk blinked, trying to place these beings among those he’d encountered in his many battles. “Are those… Diamond Dogs?” he muttered.
Their ears were keen, as one whirled and growled. “We’re Rock Hounds, and Diamond Dogs are chew toys for us!”
Nightmare Moon laughed and said, “It matters not which clan whelped them. A gnoll is a gnoll, and they are ruffians who love to fight.” She pointed up at the bridge with her hoof. “There is your enemy!”
The changelings had been given pause by the sudden appearance of more foes. The gnolls yipped and waved their clubs, then lifted their heads and howled together, a sound that agitated the changelings even more.
Dominus Tusk grinned, and as their howl faded he lifted his mace above his head and added his own battle cry, “HARUNA!” Then he charged toward the base of the stone bridge, and the gnolls followed, barking with eagerness for a rumble.
A changeling, larger than most and wearing dull metal armor, leapt from the bridge and called out some command, or battle cry, in a hideous and corrupted language that only changelings could ever pronounce or understand. The rest of the swarm poured out of their hiding places then, and the battle was on.
Gnolls are also underground dwellers, and they were not inconvenienced at all by the dim light or the enclosed spaces of the cavern. Aside from their armored commander, the changelings were not strong fighters, but they had strength of numbers on their side — and another trick. Green flames flared around the chamber, casting eerie shadows as changelings transformed, spreading confusion. Some others used magic to steal the weapons away from incautious gnolls.
The chaotic fray spilled across the cavern with gnolls fighting changelings, gnolls fighting gnolls, gnolls fighting minotaurs, minotaurs fighting ponies, and even a few changelings fighting changelings until their commander broke it up, cursing profusely in insectile gibberish as he thumped their heads. Clearly these weren’t the brightest bunch around. Meanwhile, the agile Nightmare Moon dodged and danced amongst the combatants, casting bolts of magic from her horn. One spell reversed the transformations; this she wielded freely, zapping many disguised changelings (and more than a few actual gnolls, who yelped with startled pain), but there were always more of the creatures transforming. With another spell she freed gnolls who’d been caught in sticky green resin.
Dominus Tusk easily dispatched a few foes, but then lost his footing and slipped into a waist-deep, watery pit that he had overlooked in the chaos. Too busy fighting to immediately climb out, he swung his mace at a changeling in front of him while another combatant hammered, to little effect, on the plate armor that covered his back. It was not a good place to be; unable to close distance with his opponent, he could only hold the changeling at bay. It cast a spell, which he blocked with his mace, and he yelled, “A little help here!” A gnoll tackled the changeling, and Tusk spun around to deal with the one that had been pounding on his back. His mace connected with another gnoll, and for a moment he feared he’d just clobbered an ally, but green flames flared around the gnoll as it fell, and a stunned changeling was revealed.
Tusk turned again, just in time to see the first gnoll gored as a changeling rammed its curved horn into his belly. The gnoll’s body erupted in a blue cloud of magic, a reprise of the spell that had summoned it, and a smoldering, charred tooth fell to the ground where the gnoll had stood an instant before. “Noi j’etat! They’re naught but phantoms,” Tusk muttered to himself.
Tusk started to climb out of the pit, but fell back to a defensive position as three changelings rushed at him. He was surprised when they ignored him and hurried past, either fleeing the battle or going to reinforce another position. He started to climb out of the pit again, but more changelings approached. Again he fell back, and again they passed him by, this time going in the opposite direction. From nearby he heard Nightmare Moon laugh and yell out, “Did you see that? The bugs don’t know where to run!”
He yelled back, “Do we?” He spotted her trotting towards him, her starry mane proving that she was no impostor.
However, at that moment the armored changeling commander dropped between them. An emerald corona flared around his horn as he faced Nightmare Moon. Her horn began to glow blue, but her counter-spell was too slow, and the changeling’s magic hit her full-force. She reared back, eyes wide as the powerful dweomer took hold, and it filled her eyes with a sickly green glow. She slumped then, the life seeming to go out of her while the changeling stalked toward her.
Cursing under his breath, Tusk unwrapped the mace’s strap from his wrist and gave it a heave. His aim was true as it smashed into the changeling commander’s helmet, knocking him a glancing blow and breaking his spell. It’s effects did not dissipate instantly, though, as Nightmare moon remained senseless and ensorcelled.
Dominus Tusk scrambled out of the muddy hole while the changeling commander tried to shake off the stars that whirled around his dented helmet. He came to his wits just in time to intercept Tusk. The changeling took a battle stance and hissed, baring his fangs, while a green aura flickered to life around his horn.
Tusk glared back, but then suddenly yelled at his foe, “Hey! Have you met the twins?” The changeling arched a confused eyebrow. Tusk raised his fists. “Nighty and Night!” He slammed the bug with a brutal one-two punch, knocking it flat to the ground. Grinning, Tusk took just a moment to plant a kiss on each of the twins before he ran to retrieve his weapon.
Nightmare Moon shook her head, clearing the mental fog that the commander’s spell had induced. She felt Dominus Tusk place his hand on her shoulder and heard him ask, “Are you all right?” She nodded and glanced around the chamber. It was littered with changeling casualties, while others were being dragged away, though a few gnolls were still on their feet and raising hell. “Now’s our chance to make a break for it,” Tusk said, and he pointed at the bridge. “Follow me!” He charged up the bridge, knocking changelings aside while Nightmare Moon cast spells to fend off the few changelings that tried to harry them from the air.
At the upper end of the stone bridge they found a ledge that led through another passage, but their sensitive eyes could already see a glow of daylight filtering in from the far end. Racing to the exit, they found it opened into the side of a crater-like depression, upwards of forty yards across, most likely a long-ago collapsed sinkhole with green grass in the basin surrounded by stone walls.
Nightmare Moon grinned at the sight of open sky, and she immediately spread her wings. She looked to Dominus Tusk and asked, “Are you up for a flight?”
He glanced at her back and blushed. “You mean… ride on you? but Princess, I… that just isn’t done!” He fidgeted, suddenly seeming more nervous than he ever had during battle.
She laughed out loud, an outburst of genuine mirth, and picked him up with her magic. “Don’t be a baby! Put your arms around my neck!” She plunked him down upon her back and released him. With his eyes wide bordering on panic, hesitantly, he started to lean forward and reach around her neck.
A high pitched sound caused him to look upward. There was a flare of bright green magic coming down from the sky. Nightmare Moon saw it too, and gasped as she dodged sideways, but she was caught in the blast that followed. Tusk was knocked off her back and tumbled on the grass. He bounced back to his feet, unhurt, and saw a crater with dust or smoke billowing from it. A dark shape moved in the cloud, but in a moment it emerged, a changeling climbing out of the crater.
Tusk gripped his weapon, but another high-pitched whine sounded from above. Glancing upward he saw another changeling hovering, at least 70 yards up, with a bright green glow building around it. Dark shapes speckled the sky: more changelings ascending to positions from which they could strike. Nightmare Moon yelled a warning, “Tusk, duck!” He dived aside just in time, as the changeling dive-bombed like a green meteor, smashing another crater just where the minotaur had stood.
Above, more changelings were beginning to glow. Tusk found himself grabbed again by a deep blue aura. “We have to get away now. Hang on tight!” Nightmare Moon commanded as she plunked him onto her back once more. He clutched desperately at her neck, and she launched herself with a strong kick. She gritted her teeth and flapped furiously to clear the stone cliff and get out of the basin. She was among the strongest of flyers, but her powers of flight came from the same reserve of energy as her spells, and there wasn’t a lot left after the battle. The minotaur’s weight only made matters worse.
Another magical dive-bombing attack flashed past almost in front of her: a near-miss, but close enough that she flinched and instinctively tried to turn away, losing a wingbeat and precious altitude. Her hooves clattered on a flat slab of limestone that formed the edge of the cliff top. She got her hooves under her and, with a strained grunt, kicked off into the air again. As she cleared the scrubby trees that surrounded the basin, she looked around and tried to get her bearings. Some weather-beaten buildings and a dirt track were close by: the same grubby hill village where she’d been captured. Huffing for all the air she could gulp, she turned toward the west and tried to gain as much speed and altitude as she could.
The buzz of changeling wings grew as more joined the chase. They had the advantage of altitude, and the whine of charging spells signaled their continuing attacks. It would seem they had difficulty hitting a moving target — but there were enough close calls, and enough changelings gunning for them, that eventually one of them was going to get lucky. Try as she might, Nightmare Moon couldn’t outfly them or gain altitude with a burly minotaur astride her back.
For his own part, Dominus Tusk watched the pursuing swarm with gritted teeth, all too aware that he was out of his element, a mere burden. He spotted a changeling charging its dive-bomb attack, aimed straight at them. As it flashed downward, something in his gut told him this one wasn’t going to miss. Without a thought, his reactions honed in battle, he swung his mace around and upward with both hands. A jolt shot through his arms when the head of the mace connected, and the changeling was batted away, leaving a comet-like green trail as it tumbled out of control.
Tusk laughed out loud and waved his mace in the air. “Did you see that? HARUNA! ” Nightmare Moon could barely manage anything like a laugh while still gasping for breath, straining to fly, but she tossed her head. The swarming changelings had seen it too. No more of them tried to dive-bomb, and soon they broke off their pursuit and turned back toward the caverns.
Nightmare Moon flew on just a little further, until she found a sheltered place to land beside a grove of oaks. The minotaur hopped off her back and waited for her to catch her breath. When she was able to speak, she said to him, “Dominus Tusk, you have proved your mettle! Doubt not the honors and fortune you shall enjoy after my coronation as Queen of Equestria!”
He grinned back. “Why, Princess… I should be thanking you. I wouldn’t have missed this party for anything.” Then he blinked in puzzlement and looked at his hands. “I seem to be fading.”
She smiled and said, “You are waking up. You’ve had a long and busy night, my friend. I shall continue my journey, and see you again when next you sleep and dream.”
Changelings buzzed nervously around the storage chamber, moving erratically, uncertain what to do with themselves. They gathered around the prone form of their queen, some sniffing, others prodding her lightly. One nudged a small bowl of royal jelly close to her snout, in hope that the scent might entice her to stir. Another placed its hooves on her withers and shook her gently, and pleaded, “Wake up, Your Highness! Please… My Queen, please wake up!” More changelings filtered into the chamber from time to time, to give their reports or receive new orders, but the slumbering queen would not hear their reports and had no orders for them, so they joined the confused, fearful, milling throng. Some began taking down cocooned ponies from the ceiling and moving them elsewhere, clearing more space around the queen.
Eventually she stirred, and her eyes fluttered open. The changelings around her drew back, giving her room as she sluggishly sat upright. She spoke hesitantly, softly, “uhh… I had the most wonderful dream.” Then she looked around and narrowed her eyes. “What are you all doing here?” Half a dozen changelings spoke at once. She winced and demanded, “Quiet!” Then she pointed with a hoof. “Gribble! Tell me what has happened!”
“We found you unconscious here, and we couldn’t wake you. The prisoner, the black pony, has escaped! She somehow summoned allies, and we’ve been fighting them through the tunnels. Many changelings are hurt. They’ve reached the surface, but we’re trying to recapture them. They’ve… uhh… My Queen? Are you all right? What’s happened to your eyes?”
Her eyes were still green, but no longer featureless orbs; they’d developed slit pupils like a dragon’s eyes. She seemed unaware, annoyed by the question. “There’s nothing wrong with my eyes. I see more clearly than ever.” She focused them on Gribble. “Let the black pony go!”
Gribble fidgeted. “Let her go? I don’t understand?”
“We don’t need her, and I have more important concerns. I’ve seen a most wondrous new vision of my destiny.” She stood upright and looked around at her gathered swarm. “I saw that I am destined to rule — not over this dim netherworld, but over the pony nation of Equestria. From this day forth, our efforts shall all be bent toward its conquest.”
Confused changelings frowned, looked to one another to see if any of them knew what she meant. Gribble said, “Equestria? Your Highness, Equestria is in the waking world! How can we even get there?”
The queen frowned and muttered, “There must be a way.” There was silence for a moment as they all waited for her to elaborate. Then her frown faded, and she spoke more clearly, “The Doorways in the Mist! One of them must lead to Equestria. We just have to find it.”
Gribble ventured, “But there are hundreds of doorways, and no one knows where they lead. Many of them go to horrible places where we could never survive or return from.”
The queen shrugged. “Hmm, yes. I suppose it may take a while. I can be patient. If I send through enough changelings, eventually one of them will find the doorway to Equestria.” Those around her looked to one another again, with drooping ears and worry written on their faces.
The minotaur Iron Will took a sip of coffee, then set down his mug (bearing the caption: “Everyone Is Entitled To My Opinion”) and glanced at the newspaper again. Apparently a baby dragon had grown to monstrous size in a small town called Ponyville and briefly wreaked havoc before it was brought under control. They’d even called out the Wonderbolts to deal with it. Hmm… He’d never been to Ponyville, but it wasn’t too far out from Canterlot, and it did have a train station. He had a tour of assertiveness seminars in the planning stage. Maybe he should add that town to the schedule.
His train of thought was broken when Elsie set down a platter of pancakes on the kitchen table. He set aside the paper and spared a fond glance at her bovine face, so much gentler than his own. “Thanks, honey!” he said gruffly (which, to be fair, was the only way he ever said anything). He began shuffling pancakes over onto his plate.
Elsie smiled and glanced over her shoulder at their home’s stairwell. She called up it, “Little Will! Are you coming down? Your breakfast will get cold.”
From upstairs came the muffled answer, “I’ll be right there, Mama!” True enough, in a few moments a minotaur boy with deep red pelt came bounding down the stairs. “Slow down!” she admonished him. “What’s got you so excited?”
He hopped into his chair and started scooping up pancakes. “I had another dream last night. It was awesome. I was Dominus Tusk, victor of ten thousand battles, and I got to rescue a princess from a bunch of evil changelings.”
Elsie giggled softly and tousled his hair with her hand. She noticed the tiny nubs where his horns would grow in. “What a vivid imagination! Iron, did you buy him more of those lurid comic books?”
Iron Will cleared his throat, which sounded a bit like shaking a bucket of gravel. “Well now… A few comic books never hurt anyone. They’re educational.” He sneaked a wink to his son, who grinned back.
Author's Note
I've had a blast writing the Spelunking chapters. I've gotten behind on some things IRL, so it may be a while before the journey continues. Your patience is appreciated.
One of my friends, upon reading this bit, at first thought that the changeling queen was NMM's nemesis. No... She's just Chrysalis hopped up on dream sand. Just say no to dream sand!
Nightmare Moon swept down from the highlands of hideous Ling, leaving behind the wild scrublands and dark cedar brakes, the shabby hill villages and ominous stone circles. Her wings carried her over lowlands crisscrossed with sloughs, loblollies and bayous, and crowded with pine trees: an expanse of forest so dense and hostile that it might have been impenetrable to anyone traveling on foot. She knew not the name of this forest, but she recognized it as a surviving remnant of the primeval Big Thicket that had once sprawled across a vast portion of Equestria (at least in the waking world), and of which only scattered remnants now remained — isolated fragments such as the Everfree Forest in which her last fateful encounter with the Elements of Harmony had occurred.
Nightmare Moon did not fear the forest, but she was duly wary of it, and she had no wish to tarry. She stopped only once for water and was pleased to find wild watercress to graze upon for a while, until the roar of a hydra sounding from somewhere nearby prompted her to move on. She took flight again and pressed onward to the west.
After some time the foliage thinned, and the forest gave way to meadows of green, splashed with the colors of wildflowers, interspersed with winding streams and ponds, as well as roads and growing signs of habitation. The hamlets she spied, small as they were, looked far healthier than those of Ling, with colorful equine forms trotting among gardens and thatch-roofed houses. This was the border of Frivoli, if her studies of The Dreaming’s irregular geography had not misled her.
She kept her distance, stayed out of sight, pressed on westward until she located a somewhat larger town. She circled a few times, scouting it from above. Most of the homes were small but well-kept, with tidy yards and bright paint of random colors, and smoothly paved streets. Equally colorful ponies frolicked about in the bright (though sunless) daylight. Some zipped about on roller skates or scooters. Others seemed to be dancing or playing games. One was dabbing at an artist’s easel. A picnic was spread over the grass near a stone bridge. Suspicious, Nightmare Moon squinted downward at the carefree scene. There was no evidence of industry. A few homes had small gardens, but she saw no fields of crops.
Conveniently enough, she saw no pegasus ponies in the sky to challenge her. She descended for a closer look, but cautiously. None of the ponies below had yet noticed her, as far as she could tell. She spied a grassy, open area which appeared to all indications as a park, including a pond. There was even a pony flying a kite. Despite the seemingly idyllic scene, Nightmare Moon remained wary — feeling burned by what had happened in Ling. She silently vowed not to be caught unawares again. She circled slowly, giving everything in the park a second glance.
There! Lurking in the shadows was the silhouette of a pegasus: a big one rearing up on its hind legs, wings spread in a threatening display. Answering the challenge, Nightmare Moon swooped down to the green, her horn already beginning to crackle as she prepared a combat spell.
Her hooves hit the ground, and she glared at the menacing figure, but in a moment the glare transformed into a look of confusion. Her foreleg raised, wings still spread, her spell fizzled out as she stared. What she’d taken for a pegasus was, in fact, a statue — frozen in dramatic pose upon a stone plinth. Moreover, it sported a long and slender horn which she had not noticed from a distance. It was an alicorn! (Although, to Nightmare Moon’s mind it was a winged unicorn, which is how she still thought of herself. In her time “alicorn” had been merely another name for a unicorn’s horn, or the substance which composed it.)
The statue was fashioned from black marble shot through with veins of white crystals and flecks of gold reminiscent of a starry night sky. The only other color was found in the eyes. The eye sockets had been inset with skillfully crafted orbs of colored glass, faithfully reproducing the cyan blue color and the vertical pupils of Nightmare Moon’s own eyes.
She put her front hoof back down upon the ground and furled her wings. Softly she said, only to herself, “It’s… me.” Her eyes flitted down to the white marble plinth and the words inscribed upon it: OUR HERO
Her lips moved silently as she read the words again, trying to figure out what had happened here. She narrowed her eyes as the words of the Dream King came back to her: “Your nemesis is a being that seeks to replace you.” She reckoned it must have ingratiated itself with the ponies of this land, earning their trust and recruiting allies to employ against her.
These thoughts were interrupted by the shout of a pony nearby. “It’s her! It’s her! The hero is back! Come on, everypony!” She saw a brown stallion leading the charge, galloping toward her while other colorful equines gathered from different directions. A kite floated away on the breeze, forgotten. A couple of other ponies ran off down the streets, calling out the news.
“The hero! The hero!”
“She’s alive! Hurray!”
“She must have escaped from the troggles!”
“What happened to her hair?”
“Look at that armor!”
“Ooh, she has a cutie mark now!”
Such were the words of joy that Nightmare Moon heard. Some ponies were so excited they could hardly speak, but they capered about like foals. A young mare approached, looked up at her with wide eyes and quivering lip, then suddenly reared up and clamped the much larger alicorn’s shoulder in an awkward hug. “I thought we’d lost you forever!” she said, while Nightmare Moon leaned back, trying to shrink from the unwanted familiarity.
Nightmare’s eyes glanced about the growing crowd. There was no suspicion in these ponies. Whatever her nemesis had been up to, it seemed that she’d never gotten around to warning her followers about Nightmare Moon herself. It was an oversight that could be exploited.
She carefully pried the overly affectionate pony off her leg, then announced, “Good ponies, thy hero has returned!” They cheered and stamped their front hooves on the ground. She went on, “Our escape from the troggles was harrowing, and we suffered injuries that have somewhat impaired our memory of recent events. We trust that ye shall help us fill in those blank spaces, before we hunt down the monsters and teach them a lesson.”
Looks of worry and sympathy flashed across pony faces at the mention of injury, but they stamped their hooves again, this time in a more subdued manner, and the clingy one called out, “We’ll help you, Hero! Do you remember me? We met before! I’m Fizzy Pop!”
Nightmare peered at her pale, sherbert-orange coat, mane streaked with orange and white, and the cutie mark resembling some sort of bottle with bubbles around it. “Err… No. We do not remember thee, little one.”
Fizzy sagged for a moment. “Oh, uh… That’s OK.” She began to perk up again almost at once. “We’ve got you back, that’s all that matters. I know what this calls for: A PARTY!”
Ponies all around cheered, but Nightmare Moon was only puzzled. “What sort of party, pray tell? A search party? A raiding party?”
“No, silly! I mean the kind of party where everypony has fun.” Grinning, she stood up on her hind legs and began gyrating in a way that vaguely resembled a hula dance.
More confused than before, Nightmare glared and retorted, “We wottest not this ‘fun’ of which thou doth speak.”
Fizzy stopped her dance and said, “You sure have started talking funny since you’ve been away, Hero. No, I mean a party with food and drinks and dancing and games. That kind of fun.”
Nightmare Moon did not care for being called silly, or the casual way this pony spoke to her. Even so, Fizzy Pop seemed more a harmless fool than one who intended disrespect. Nightmare nodded slowly. “Merrymaking. Revelry. Yes. We approve… I mean, I approve the celebration of my return.”
Fizzy Pop bounced. “Yay! Just leave it to me; I’ll take care of everything. I’ll get the drinks, and Strawberry Cupcake can get the snacks, and we’ll need music. My brother Iggy can take care of that.” She turned to the ponies gathered around, and she pointed toward a stallion. “Strong Stomp, why don’t you stomp on over to the bakery and get some tables? Strawberry will show you where they are. And the rest of you ponies… Go spread the word! We’re having a party in the park for our Hero!”
While the preparations were made, Nightmare Moon removed her armor and rested upon the grass in the shade of a mighty oak, within view of the statue. Her mane and tail became material again, and the resemblance was even greater than before. She gazed on the statue and brooded. (She was good at this. In an earlier age Sola had jested that brooding was Luna’s special talent, while ruling over the moon and night counted as a mere hobby.) The nemesis… Changelings had merely mimicked her outward form. The nemesis was a more sinister, more disturbing menace. It threatened to steal away her identity, her soul. She gritted her teeth. ”That must not happen!” she muttered.
In remarkably short order the makings of a party came together. There were picnic tables with pitchers of lemonade and cider, pastries and cookies and candy. The younger ponies ran about and played. A few ponies with musical instruments began to play the simple but boisterous folk tunes that earth ponies favored.
Ponies approached their “Hero” (as, seemingly, they knew no other name or title for her) from time to time, exchanging pleasantries, congratulating her for her supposed escape. She deflected their enquiries and begged off conversation, claiming to be tired from her journey — which was true, of course. She reflected upon how long it was since common ponies had tried to engage her in such an open manner: admiring and respectful, yet neither subservient or afraid. She wondered, “Perhaps if my subjects back in Equestria had been more like these… But no! The past is past and cannot be changed.”
Fizzy Pop came to her and said, “Hero, I know you’re tired, but I hope you’ll at least come up to the statue and let everypony see you, and you could say a few words. Would you, please?”
Nightmare Moon was not eager to do this, but she supposed it would be best to maintain her facade. She nodded and stood up, and followed Fizzy to the statue around which the party had organized. Standing in front of it, she addressed the crowd in her traditional fashion.
“HEARKEN, GOOD PONIES!” Immediately ponies flinched and folded their ears back, but she paid no mind as she bulled ahead. “TOO LONG HAVE WE… I… BEEN ABSENT FROM THIS LAND. LONG AND ARDUOUS WERE MY STRUGGLES TO RETURN TO YE! TOMORROW I SHALL TAKE UP ARMS AGAINST A SEA OF TROUBLES ONCE AGAIN. FOR TONIGHT, THOUGH, WE CELEBRATE UNDER THE ETERNAL STARS!”
With that she raised her head and pointed her horn skyward. It glowed fiercely, the sky darkened, and a chill breeze suddenly swirled through the park. Nightmare Moon launched herself into the air and pumped her wings to slowly ascend straight upward. Her horn was still glowing, and behind her a yellow light peeked over the horizon. As she rose into the sky, so did the great, golden moon, as full and big and bright as any pony had ever seen. When it was well above the horizon, she released her spell and descended to a soft landing on the same spot where she’d spoken from. Her horn glowed again as she cast another spell, and sparks of yellow light began to blink all around. Appearing from nowhere, fireflies swarmed around the park in prodigious numbers, their warm glow competing with the moonlight.
Her enchantment complete, she watched the ponies warily. If they were to turn against her, she thought, now would be the moment. Their eyes were wide as they stared skyward, jaws slack, some rearing up on their hind legs, some gasping with surprise and confusion. Nightmare Moon heard a rumble of hooves begin, the first sound of panicked flight.
“THAT WAS AWESOME!” yelled Fizzy Pop.
Other ponies began to cheer. It took Nightmare a few moments to understand that she was hearing screams of delight rather than terror, and the rumble of hooves was applause rather than a panicked stampede. The ponies began to crowd closer, speaking excitedly.
“She made it night.”
“What kind of magic was that?”
“Such power!”
“She raised the moon.”
“It’s so beautiful!”
A short while later she reclined on the grass. Somepony had brought her a flagon of cider, from which she sipped and nursed a growing mood of warm contentment, and she watched the festivities continue around her. This coarse and spontaneous — but genuine — festival sent her mind whirling back through distant memories. She closed her eyes for a moment, and it was as though she was there again.
It was right after she and Sola had defeated Discord. Word had gone out that chaos would no longer rule the land. Day and night would no longer come and go randomly. Houses would be on land and boats upon the sea. The grass would no longer eat the cows. Then there were celebrations. They were scattered, impromptu outbursts of joy that occurred whenever and wherever the news reached another settlement of ponies.
Sola and Luna were hailed as the heroes who’d saved Equestria, and in due course were offered kingly crowns, and they were begged to rule over the land as equals, as diarchs. As princesses they would preside over many more celebrations, soirees, receptions, functions and frolics. Those were invariably dismal, dull affairs. None of them, not even those commemorating the defeat of Discord, ever held the spark of joy she had known in the wake of that event itself. It was such a spark as she saw in the ponies around her now.
It could not last, and it was founded upon a lie, but for this moment Nightmare Moon found a bit of much-needed peace.
Later in the night, after the party had dispersed, Nightmare Moon summoned forth a dreamer to hold counsel with. She gazed coolly upon the unicorn before her and asked, “What tidings bringest thou from Equestria, Spell Nexus?”
“Only good news, Your Majesty. I have recruited many important and powerful ponies to our cause.”
“Highness,” Nightmare Moon interrupted.
Spell Nexus blinked. “Eh what?”
“Only a king or queen is addressed as Royal Majesty. Until we are crowned Queen of Equestria, thou shalt address us as Highness.”
Spell Nexus groveled before her. “That glorious night cannot come soon enough! In my heart you are already queen.”
“Thy eagerness is gratifying, Spell Nexus. Nonetheless, there is a protocol to these matters. There can only be one queen, and that cannot happen until Celestia has been removed from power. Why she has not already claimed the title is beyond our understanding. Regardless, thou shalt address us as Highness, for the time being.”
“As you wish, Your Highness!”
She waggled an impatient hoof at him. “Continue thy report!”
“Ah, yes. I have had success recruiting unicorns among my colleagues in Canterlot. Some are working on moon globes for the towns, to provide additional light and warmth after your endless night has fallen upon the land.”
“Moon globes…” She tasted the words, not sure if she liked their flavor. “Because our actual moon is somehow insufficient?”
Nexus hastily replied, “No, no! No… No, not at all! It’s just that, well… Ponies have become long accustomed to sunlight, and the moon globes can help ease the transition to nouveau regime. Ponies should find the additional light comforting and thereby feel more accepting of your rule. It would also allow Your Highness to maintain the cycle of lunar phases, if you so desire, without plunging the land into abject darkness.”
The air grew colder. “The abject darkness of starlight, you mean.”
Nexus squirmed. “Well, not in so many words. I mean, sometimes even the stars must be concealed by clouds. Do not fireflies dance at night? These globes, I hope, will enhance the night rather than drown out your lovely stars. Each village will become an oasis of comforting, homely light.”
“Perhaps. Thou hast taken the initiative, and for that we cannot find fault. This project may continue. Now tell us, what else hast thou done?”
“I’ve also added important earth ponies to the ranks of your followers. Amber Waves, who is head of the agricultural research farms in Neighbraska, has undertaken the development of crops that can grow under the moon and stars.” He paused to glance at her warily.
“Go on.”
“Well. For example, she insists we must begin propagating bodark apple trees immediately. A newly planted tree could take several years to even begin bearing apples, unless earth ponies apply their talents to hasten its growth. We can’t have the population starving in the wake of your coronation.”
“True. However… We hope thou has not become distracted from thy overarching goal. Spell Nexus, thou hast been charged with bringing us back to life.” She leaned closer, pinning him with the hungry stare of her dragon eyes. “All else is secondary. It is all for naught if we cannot live again. Tell of the ritual!”
Spell Nexus’s eyes were like reflections of her own, save that his glittered with enthusiasm. “It’s all coming together, Highness! Difficult, of course… Yes, but what a glorious achievement of the spellcasting art it will be! My colleagues, Starry Wish and Crystal Charm, are working with me to develop the resurrection spell.”
“And they do so willingly? We wonder how thou dost entice them.”
“Some of the cadres have joined because they feel slighted or dissatisfied with the regime of the Sun Princess. Others were hesitant — or even hostile — until I shared the blessing with them.”
Nightmare Moon blinked. “The blessing?”
“Yes! The same blessing that you shared with me, oh Highness! You showed me your dream of an Equestria shrouded in dark, sacred night. Those who would be of greatest value to the work, or who threaten to reveal us, are given the blessing and become your chosen few. Once they have seen through your eyes, their loyalty is absolute.”
Nightmare Moon shifted uncomfortably. The dream sand must be more potent than she had realized. If Spell Nexus could pass its effects on to other ponies, could they then pass it on again? Would it become an epidemic upon Equestria? This was not a development she had intended, although it seemed to be working to her advantage.
She thought upon those questions for a moment while Nexus waited patiently, then said, “Spell Nexus, there is another thing thou must do for us. When we return to the waking world, we must draw down the moon. Thou must assist us.”
Nexus’s eyes went wide. “Draw down the moon? Forgive me, but… The working to reconstitute your living body will tax the limits of my ability already.”
She waved away his concern. “Fear not! We shall command the wayward moon. All that we require from thee is a physical component — one we cannot obtain here in The Sunless Lands. To draw down the moon, a sacrifice is required. It is a small thing, merely a sacrifice of blood.”
Spell Nexus bowed. “No sacrifice is too great, Your Highness! I would spill my own blood for you.”
“That will not be necessary, nor would it be helpful. It must be the blood of a mare. It must be the moon’s blood.”
“The… the moon’s blood?”
She growled, “Must we spell it out in the most vulgar of terms? A mare bleeds once every cycle of the moon’s phases.”
Spell Nexus blushed, flustered. “Oh! That moon’s blood.”
“A drop will be enough.”
Nexus pondered. “I’m sure one among the chosen can provide it. Although…” His voice trailed off.
She gazed at him warily. This minion showed a disturbing tendency to think for himself. Even so, she needed him. “What?” she prodded.
“It’s just… We may also need a living component to recreate your new body. If we could capture one of your enemies…”
“Celestia is the enemy, and you will not get what you require from her.”
“No, no… I was thinking of another. Her student, Twilight Sparkle, lives not far from the Everfree Forest where I had planned to conduct the ritual.”
“Ohh… What an intriguing idea! If she were taken prisoner, she could not wield the Elements of Harmony against us as she did before, and the blood of one who defeated us would make a potent charm.”
“Yes! And she is a powerful spell caster. She would make a most puissant sacrifice. My lady, Twilight Sparkle is beloved to Celestia. Her capture would pain the sun princess deeply.”
Nightmare Moon grinned. “To capture her is a risk, Spell Nexus. She will be protected. However, we think thou art right and true. Taking her would, as they say, kill several birds with one stone. That it would also twist a knife in my sister’s heart is a delicious bonus. Make it so!”
He groveled. “As my lady commands!”
Nightmare Moon stood. “We have other matters to attend this night. Be on thy way, Spell Nexus, and carry out our will! Our servant thou shalt be for all time!” She cast a spell, and the unicorn faded away, returned to his bed in the waking world.
Twilight Sparkle trotted with an easy pace, humming contentedly to herself. It was shaping up to be a pleasant day in Ponyville, made more pleasant by her task, for she did enjoy shipping. The sparkle of her magic was barely visible in the morning sunlight as a package floated alongside her, while she traversed the short distance to the Pony Express office.
The postal service appealed to her sensibilities. Taken for granted by many, too often un-appreciated, it bound Equestria’s far-flung provinces and territories together. To place her neatly-bound, neatly-addressed package in the care of efficient and organized workers, entrusting it to be directed through the postal routing system, she found deeply satisfying in ways that, for example, burning up a letter with dragon fire just couldn’t quite match — not that she didn’t appreciate Spike’s magic as well, of course.
She entered the office and smiled gently as she floated her package up to the counter and rang the little bell. In a few moments a cheery face popped up behind the counter, but not a face she expected to see. The gray coat… the blonde mane… golden eyes askew… “Uh. Derpy? What are you doing here?”
“I work here now!”
“I thought you were on the weather team.”
Derpy’s smile faded. “I was, until I set your house on fire.”
Twilight was aghast. “Oh no! Derpy, I didn’t mean to get you fired from your job.”
“No, no, it’s okay. I’m working here now. I like this job, it’s good. How can I help you?” She smiled again, albeit perhaps a bit forced.
Twilight pushed the package forward. “I just want to send this. It’s bound printed matter, so it should go book rate.” Twilight Sparkle knew her postal rates.
Derpy spun the package around in her hooves, peered at it with at least one eye for several seconds, and frowned. “I can’t send this.”
Twilight Sparkle stared, waiting for further explanation. When none was forthcoming, she spun the package back around and looked at the label she’d so carefully prepared, trying to figure out what she hadn’t put on it — because, apparently, it’s not just a delivery service, it’s a test of wits. Finding no blank spaces, she wondered for a moment if she was a Pony Express failure. She settled for looking at Derpy and asking, “Why?”
Derpy returned a very disapproving look. “I can’t send this to a random house.”
Twilight blinked, confused for just a moment, then laughed. “Oh, I get it! Haha! No, no. It’s a publisher.”
“Yeah, but I can’t send it.”
“Why?”
“I can’t send to a random house.”
Twilight Sparkle frowned. She explained, “No, I mean it’s a pony, he’s in the publishing business. He has an address. Look…” Twilight used the edge of her hoof to underscore the label, below Random House: number, street, city and postal code.
Derpy looked. Then she looked at Twilight and said, in a you-need-to-listen-to-me-now tone, “I can’t send to a random house .”
“No, Derpy… uh… He’s called Random House. But he’s a pony in the publishing business. That’s his name, and this is the address where he works.”
“I can’t…”
Twilight growled and tapped furiously on the address label with her hoof. Derpy fell silent, took the package between her hooves, and stared at the address for a minute. Eventually she concluded, “You can’t send stuff like this.”
Tiny sparks and wisps of smoke were beginning to rise from Twilight Sparkle’s mane, and her eyes took on a dangerous gleam. “That’s his name. He is called Random House, but he is not located at a random house. He is a pony with a business at that address.”
“But you can’t have random house in the ‘send to’ line.”
“I have to. That is where it’s going.”
“Can you believe it? I already told her like five or six times. How does somepony like that get to be a librarian, anyhow?”
Nightmare Moon giggled softly. “I really don’t know. So… Did she ever get to mail her parcel?”
“Yeah. She talked to my boss, and he made me accept it. Because she’s, you know… princess-student magic-element hero whatever.” Derpy crossed her arms and muttered, “But I thought she ought to follow the same rules as other ponies.”
“Oh, Derpy! I think you must be my most dependable minion — err, I mean friend — in the waking world. Perhaps after my coronation as Queen of Equestria, I may make you Postmaster General. Would you like that?”
Derpy beamed and fluttered her wings. “Ooooh! I like being in charge!”
Nightmare Moon smiled. “Derpy, would you mind keeping an eye on Twilight Sparkle for me? Learn what you can of her habits! Would you do that for a friend?”
Derpy grinned and nodded happily.
Hours later a cartoonish yellow dream-image of the sun rose over Frivoli, bringing bright day to the Sunless Lands. Nightmare Moon was rested — but she tarried for a while in the Glen Oaks village (as it was called), exploring it briefly. The cutesy cottages painted in pastel colors and heavily decorated with hearts and rainbows were not too her taste — to put it mildly. The cloying sweetness of the place extended to neatly manicured lawns, flower gardens, and white picket fences.
As soon as the ponies of the village began to stir, they returned to fun and games. Even though the festivities of the night before were over, it seemed that the ponies of Frivoli were like the lilies of the field: they toiled not, neither did they spin, but rather frittered away their days having tea parties and flying kites. What sustained them, she wondered? From whence came the tea and cakes they favored so much?
Her questions were met with puzzled responses. There was always food in the village, on store shelves and in kitchen pantries, and nopony seemed concerned with how it got there. Nightmare Moon grew rather testy when she thought the ponies were being evasive, but she soon realized that was not the case — it was simply a blind spot in this region of The Dreaming. Frivoli was a dream of carefree youth, not of toil or struggle.
As she strolled through the town, ponies at every turn smiled and waved, and called out to her. There was no fear, no suspicion. Yet, she no longer felt welcome as she had the previous day. She saw now that Frivoli was merely a shadow, a caricature of Equestria. She did not belong here, and even had they recognized her as a princess, she was quite sure these foalish ponies would be of no worth as subjects.
She found the town library built into an old windmill tower, its fan whimsically replaced by a giant pinwheel. A quick inspection turned up endless fairy tales and foalhood storybooks, but nary a map or any work of non-fiction in the place.
Under the pretense of filling in the gaps of her memory, she questioned some of the ponies about what they knew of her Nemesis’s time in Frivoli. It had only stopped here briefly before moving on in search of the troggle invaders. Only much later had news come trickling back that it had fallen in battle, prompting the raising of the memorial statue.
Some ponies did relate what they had heard of the troggle band’s movements. They had advanced up the Sandy River, threatening villages up and down its bottom lands. There had been rumors of pony volunteers who had come from neighboring Prance to help defend Frivoli and turn back the invaders. Nightmare Moon pondered this and decided she would attempt to locate that force and join them.
A small gathering of ponies were present to see her off as she took up her armor and took flight once more. Following their instructions she had flown less than an hour before catching sight of smoke fires. Turning toward them, she soon spotted the tents of an encampment near a watercourse. As she neared, pegasus ponies rose to intercept her.
“Who goes zair?” challenged the first pegasus that approached her, his voice thick with the foreign accent of Prance.
She hovered and answered, “We… err… I am called Hero by the ponies of this land, and I have come to battle the troggle invaders.”
“Eero!” he exclaimed. “We aveaird much of you since we arrived, but everypony said you `ahd fallen in battle.”
“Ah, yes! Rumors of my demise have been greatly exaggerated. May I enter your camp?”
“But of course, Mademoiselle! Allow me to escort you to zee commandant’s tent!”
She followed him to a landing in front of a white tent. She observed that the ponies of the camp were an integrated force of mostly earth ponies and pegasi, plus a small contingent of unicorns. Banners fluttering in the breeze bore the fleur-de-lis of Prance.
The pegasus pulled open the tent flap and announced loudly, “A visitair, sir!” Then he gestured for her to enter. She ducked her head to avoid spearing the tent with her horn, and the pegasus followed her inside.
A unicorn of dusky purple, wearing a uniform coat with his rank insignia, looked up from the map table he had been studying, and he gasped in surprise as he got a good look at Nightmare Moon. In the confines of the tent her size seemed even more impressive, and her armor and mane made of star clouds gave her an intimidating presence. “Sacrebleu!” the unicorn exclaimed. “Can thees be zee Eero we aveaird so much about?”
Nightmare Moon tossed her head in a curt nod. “The ponies of this land have dubbed me such. And who do I have the pleasure of addressing?”
He lowered his head in an informal bow, “Lady Eero, we adaird you wair taken. To lairn ozerwise eez a great pleasure. Many who `ave rallied to our cause wair eenspired by your valor. As for myself…” He stood up straight and brought a hoof to his chest. “I am Chevalier, zee commandant of zees resistance force.”
“A sizable force, from what I saw on the way in,” she commented approvingly. “I myself have unfinished business with the troggles and would like nothing more than to aid you.”
“What wonderful news! Wiz an ahleecorn at our side, we shall surely make short wairk of zee troggles.” He turned to another unicorn and said, “Summon my lieutenants! I must introduce zem to zis lovely lady, and we shall revise our plans.”
In a short while the lieutenants had all arrived and sorted themselves with mostly pegasi on one side and earth ponies on the other. Many had been startled on their first glimpse of Nightmare Moon, but they regained their composure quickly.
The commander nodded to his assistant and said, “Aide DeCamp! Introduce zee Eero to my officers!”
The other unicorn nodded and gestured with a hoof toward the ranks of pegasi and unicorns. “Vairy well. Zeese eez: Faux Pas, Montage, Detente, Avant Garde and Deja Vu.”
Each of the indicated ponies nodded as he was named, except for the last, who eyed Nightmare Moon speculatively and asked, “`Ave we not met before, Mademoiselle?”
She quirked an eyebrow and answered, “Not that I recall.” He nodded and began to look away, but then his eyes snapped back to her as if something about her appearance haunted him.
Aide DeCamp continued, gesturing toward the other group. “Over `ere: Croissant, Souffle, Escargot and Chocolate Mousse.” Again each nodded as he was named, except for the last — who was, as it happened, an actual moose rivaling Nightmare Moon in size. He grunted acknowledgement and puffed his cigar. Then, as if by an afterthought, he rolled the still-lit cigar stub back into his mouth and began chewing it up.
Chevalier then stepped forward and said, “Our opportunity to strike at zee troggles as arrived. Zeyave begun zere move toward zee village at Dream Valley, and zat is where we shall meet zem. Wiz zee addition of Lady Eero to our cause, we can finally put an end to zere predations. Lovely Lady… You `ave faced zeez savages in battle. Can you share any intelligence wiz us?”
She shook her head. “Sadly, very little. I was injured during my escape, and my memories of the entire ordeal are… fuzzy. All I can tell you is that they held another prisoner of great importance who we should attempt to rescue.”
Chevalier frowned. “Euh… It would be best not to get your `opes up, Lady Eero. Zee beasts, zey are known to eat ponies — or sell zee more valuable ones into slavery.”
Nightmare Moon narrowed her eyes for a moment, pondering. She was quite sure her nemesis had not been destroyed. If what Morpheus had told her about her destiny was true, it would be impossible for the nemesis to be killed by anyone other than Nightmare Moon herself. This she could not explain to the soldiers, though. She merely ventured, “I’m sure they would not kill this prisoner. We must secure her release or learn of her disposition.”
Chevalier stiffened, drawing himself up to answer her with conviction, “I see zat zis eez important to you, Lady. I promise we shall do all zat is wizzin our power to recover your comrade.”
She gave a slight nod. “Your courtesy is appreciated, Chevalier.”
He thought for a moment, then cast a spell. As his horn glowed, a pointer appeared over the map table. “If you will attend… We aveaird zat zee invaders are advancing up zis river `ere.” The pointer moved, tracing a path. “We shall attempt to interpose ourselves between zem and zee settlement at Dream Valley, and zere lay siege to zem!” A few of the other officers nodded and nickered softly in agreement with the plan.
Nightmare Moon squinted at the map. “Lay siege?” she asked. “Surely our aim is to catch them on the move, not give them a chance to build any sort of fortification.”
The ponies fidgeted and glanced at one another, ears flicking. No word was spoken, but the message was easily read: She doesn’t know!
Chevalier’s voice was colored with concern. “Your injury must ave been more serious zan Iad realized, Lady. You do not recall which band of troggles we face? Zeze are Trgrognahr’s Rgrahmpaging Rgrebels!”
“What!?” she gasped.
Chocolate Mousse leaned over and rumbled deeply, “He said, Thrognar’s Rampaging Rebels.”
“Thank you! However, I still do not understand the difficulty.”
“Lady, zese troggles do not need to build any sort of fortification. Zey ave brought one wiz zem. Eet eez a moving castle, pulled by enormous beasts. Zee Rampaging Rebels use it as a base of operations to rob and plunder. Eet eez most formidable.Owevere, we `ope to catch at least zee raiding party outside zee castle and destroy zem.”
They then began to discuss what they knew of the troggle weapons and tactics. Wine and cheese were brought into the tent to sustain them as they shared their knowledge. Avant Garde noted, “We ave swollen our ranks with zee common ponies of Frivoli, and ozzer volunteers. What of yourself, Mademoiselle?Ave you any followers `oo could join us?”
“Hmm, very few,” she replied. “I have the power to summon dreamers who I know well. I know of two who may help us. Indeed, one of them was responsible for my escape from Ling.”
The ponies gasped. Chevalier said, “You ave been to foul Ling? Eet eez a most evil place, and fewoo ventured zere `ave evair returned.”
She nodded gravely. “As I saw for myself, its reputation is not exaggerated. The warrior who fought by my side there is named Dominus Tusk, and I know he will be eager to join this fight as well. I shall summon him as soon as he slumbers again.”
Deja Vu wondered, “A dreamer? Zey pop in and out of our world so fleetingly. Ow long canee remain asleep?”
Nightmare Moon shook her head. “It matters not. The passage of time in the Dreaming is tied only very loosely to that of the waking world. It can stretch or contract with ease. Days or weeks can be experienced in the dream of a single night. This phenomenon I am pleased to have some degree of influence over.” Then she closed her eyes and lifted her horn high, and it sparkled briefly. “Hmm… I can summon them now, if the Commandant does not object?”
Chevalier nodded his assent. “But of course, Eero! Your comrades will be welcome among us!”
Her horn glowed brighter as she cast the spell, and both Derpy and Dominus Tusk faded into view. Tusk’s horns immediately poked into the fabric roof of the tent, and he reflexively crouched and reached upward to fend off what felt like a sudden attack.
Meanwhile Derpy fluttered her wings and stumbled into the table and knocked one of the folding legs under it, and it dumped the map and markers onto her head. “Hey, what? Where am I?” she stammered as her gaze flitted around the crowded tent.
“Calm, my friends!” said Nightmare Moon. “You are dreaming once more. These ponies around you are my allies. We are preparing for battle, and I hoped you two might wish to join our cause.”
Dominus Tusk sat down on the compacted ground. He looked around at the ponies, and they eyed him with equal interest. He looked to Nightmare Moon and smiled as he answered, “Once more into the fray, eh? Of course I’m in!”
She looked to the other she had summoned. “And you, Derpy?”
Derpy had just managed to get the map out of her face. She blinked and tried to focus on Nightmare Moon. “You… You want me? You want me to fight?”
Nightmare shook her head. “I know you are not trained as a warrior. However, you are a pegasus, and you are my friend. I am sure you can be of use, if you choose to stay.”
Derpy muttered, “I can be of use?” Then she stood up straight and saluted. “I can be of use!”
More introductions were made, and the two dreamers were briefed on the situation. Officers began to excuse themselves and filter out of the crowded tent, going to attend matters of their troops. Some still remained, though, when a pegasus barged into the tent, with sweat stains visible upon his neck, chest and flanks. “Commandant!” he called.
Chevalier stepped forward. “What news `ave you, Reconnoiter?”
Reconnoiter saluted. “Commandant, zee troggle raiding party `az just sacked zee town of Brookside Village to zee north!”
“Zat is not far!” He turned to his officers. “Signal zee corps to break camp! Zis may be our chance to intercept zee raiders.”
The officers hurried out, and a flurry of activity ensued as tents were broken down, equipment loaded onto wagons, and earth ponies were packed like mules.
Afternoon found the army marching through the town that had been pillaged and left barren. Rooftops had burned and collapsed, leaving charred remnant walls. Flower gardens were trampled, stores looted of food and other supplies, and various pony toys — dolls, scooters, hoofballs, tea sets, jewelry and the like — were either taken or broken and scattered, depending on whether the troggles found them amusing. At one spot it looked like the troggles had a scuffle amongst themselves using tempura paint as weaponry. One had taken time to paint, on a nearby wall, a crude image of a pony, upside-down with an X in place of its eye. Underneath in rough letters was scrawled: PWND!!!11
Nightmare Moon lifted an eyebrow when she saw it. She wouldn’t have guessed any of the troggles knew their letters.
Frivoli volunteers stopped to help the stunned and wounded townsfolk, some of whom had been hiding since the attack. Other ponies filtered in from the surrounding country where they earlier had fled. Ponies wailed as they saw the smoldering ruins of their homes, while others called out for family or friends.
Nightmare Moon and Dominus Tusk overheard a sobbing mare as they passed by. “They took everything! They even took my sheep. Why would they take my sheep? They hardly even had any wool.”
Without looking aside or slowing her pace, Nightmare Moon said, “Most likely the troggles intend to roast and eat them.”
The mare was shocked into silence for a moment, then wailed more loudly than before, “Nooo! No no no! Not Esther! Not Gertrude!”
Nightmare’s only reaction was a disdainful snort as she stopped and looked around. “Where is Chevalier?” After a few moments Tusk pointed to where Chevalier was casting some sort of healing spell upon one of the villagers. Nightmare trotted over and then waited with obvious impatience until he was done before she assailed him. “Commander, thy troops are falling out of formation! They are dallying in the village.”
He blinked, taken aback. “We air merely aiding zee eenjured, Mademoiselle!”
“The injured peasants?” she sneered. “Whilst ye squander precious time here, the troggles are no doubt retreating to their citadel. We must intercept them!”
Chevalier glanced about, seeing that others among his troops were helping the survivors. He opened his mouth to speak, but seemed torn with indecision and unable to form a reply. Dominus Tusk rubbed his elbow awkwardly and then horned in, saying, “The lady is right. It may sound harsh, but we are soldiers. Our duty is to keep this from happening again somewhere else.”
Chevalier’s brow furrowed, and grimly he nodded assent. “Vairy well. I shall rally zee troops.”
Nightmare Moon gathered Derpy, Reconnoiter, and a few other pegasi to scout ahead. Their intent was to not only locate the enemy’s moving fortress, but also possibly harry and delay the retreating troggles until the rest of the resistance force could catch up.
The troggles were easy to track, as they left the land scarred by their carts’ wheels and littered with cast-off detritus. After about twenty minutes, Reconnoiter was first to spot the column and signal the others.
They soared high above the troggles, who were marching in surprisingly organized formation, keeping their force together. Nightmare Moon had hoped for a disorderly mob that could be defeated piece meal, but it was not to be. These troggles were uniformly armored and many of them carried some sort of spears. However, they lacked any readily apparent defense against air attack.
A sly, predatory grin overtook Nightmare Moon’s face. To march in formation was one thing. To maintain discipline under surprise attack from above was quite another. She called to her companions, “Let us scatter them!”
“No, wait!” she heard from one of the soldiers, but she ignored him and swooped downward toward the enemy force, and her companions (save Derpy, who hung back) reflexively followed. What they lost in altitude they gained in speed. Wind streamed through Nightmare Moon’s etherial mane and tail and across her wings. It had been too long since she’d felt the thrill of an attack run.
Somewhere below a troggle had finally spotted the approaching pegasi and raised the alarm. Troggles shouted and dived for cover on either side of the trail, while others braced the butts of their spears against the ground and pointed them skyward, as if they expected the ponies to fly right on down and impale themselves.
Magic began to sizzle along Nightmare Moon’s horn, preparing a spell to give her assault an extra punch. She never got a chance to cast her spell, though. With a loud ZZZZAT, a cyan bolt of magic flashed past, and she flinched, almost swerving into one of the pegasi. She heard Reconnoiter shout, “BREAK OFF!” as more bolts of magic flashed around them.
The pegasi scattered, and after a couple of minutes regrouped in formation at higher — and safer — altitude, and Nightmare Moon joined them. “SPELLS!” she ranted. “How can those two-legged pigs cast spells?” There was another flash of light below, as a troggle fired off a spell as a warning, or perhaps not realizing his targets were out of range.
“Zey carry magical staves! Zee villagers spoke of zis, but we ‘ad no time to question zem further.” was Reconnoiter’s answer.
Nightmare ground her teeth. She could protect herself, but to press the attack with only this scouting force of pegasi would be foolhardy. “Let us continue ahead to our objective!” she ordered. Reconnoiter shot her a glare, but nodded.
The trail the troggles had first trod on their way to plunder the village led Nightmare and her companions to a nearly treeless high grassland, with wide open visibility in all directions. It was here that Thrognar had parked his citadel, for the moment, and there would be no sneaking up on it — except, perhaps, from one direction. Reconnoiter signaled the others to follow, and he led them downward, skimming barely over the tall grass, toward a knobby hillock. Nightmare Moon released a spell in the moments before she landed, and the two troggles who’d been sitting on the hilltop crumpled over onto their sides, falling into a dreamless sleep.
Other hooves settled onto the rocky soil around her. “Nicely done!” Reconnoiter admitted. “Could you not cast zis spell upon zere entire army?”
She nudged one of the troggles with an armored hoof. “No… Not here, and not against alert foes. Ironically, the sleep spell is more difficult to cast here in the Dreaming than in the waking world. These two fools were caught unawares.” She sniffed at the creature, then snurled her upper lip in disgust. It was the first time she’d gotten a good look at them. Their skin was furless, their snouts pig-like, with small tusks poking up past their lower lips. They wore mismatched tunics and breeches of rough cloth, and leather belts. Horned helmets had tumbled off their heads when they fell over. Their hands, she noted, were not too different from those of a minotaur. Although much smaller and weaker than a minotaur, the ability to stand upright and grasp weapons would make them more suited to soldiering than ponies.
Derpy sniffed at one of the horned helmets, and then plonked it onto her head. She grinned and fluttered her wings. “Ooh, this is cool!”
Nightmare’s attention shifted to a spear, and she levitated it. Her eyes hardened when she saw the tip was no ordinary spear point, but rather a spiral horn affixed to the shaft. The horn was twisted unnaturally and discolored, but still identifiable as the body part from a unicorn. “So, this is how they cast spells,” she commented icily. She turned it in her magical grip, traces of light glimmering as she analyzed its enchantments. “It is made to cast only one spell, on command. A stun spell, I believe.”
“Sacrebleu…” gasped Reconnoiter softly, but he was not looking at the spear. The pegasi, Derpy included, had all dropped to the ground, resting upon tufts of basket grass, and they stared across the open ground toward the mobile fortress.
“Zees I do not believe. Eet eez enormous,” muttered Reconnoiter.
“Eet eez more than enormous,” corrected another scout.
“Eet eez immense!” added a third.
“Eezer we ‘ave found zee castle, or my mozzer-in-law eez swimming nude again.”
“Latrine, I ‘ave seen your mozzer-in-law. Zees eez almost as dangerous.”
Derpy stared out from under her ill-fitting helmet with wide-eyed wonder and said, “Wowwww! That’s the biggest thing I ever saw.”
Indeed it was. It’s basic floor plan was square with a draw bridge in front with battlements above it and upon overhanging half-towers at either side. A hodgepodge of other towers protruded high above the rampart walls, or in some cases hung over the sides as if the builders had ran out of room inside and been forced to expand in unconventional directions. Smoke wafted up from chimneys, presumably from cook fires.
Surrounding the castle were the giant beasts: two harnessed in front, two on the left, and two more on the right. They were reptilian, green-scaled, and for a moment Nightmare Moon wondered if they were some sort of dragons. After a moment she dismissed the notion. Dragons were highly varied in size, shape and color, but these beasts were nearly identical, far more stoutly built and less serpentine than any dragon she’d ever seen. Each had a lengthy, gracefully curved horn protruding upward, oddly located almost at the end of its snout with a much smaller pair of horns sprouting behind it. Further aft, each head supported a huge frill, seemingly armor to guard the creature’s neck.
Around the castle and beasts were a scattering of troggles, seemingly insect-like in scale as they tended to the creatures — the specifics of their chores made inscrutable by distance.
“I cannot see zee base of zee citadel,” said Reconnoiter as he squinted. “Surely it must not roll upon wheels!”
“I should think not,” Nightmare agreed. “The weight would crush any axle. It must have some sort of skid underneath.”
“What a fiendish way to spread terror!”
“Yes…” Nightmare Moon settled onto a grassy tuft as well. Her eyes glittered as she considered the citadel, and she licked her lips. “I want one!”
Author's Note
Yes, these guys --> http://mylittlewiki.org/wiki/File:Troggles.jpg
18 - The Citadel: Round 2
Gray skies matched the sullen mood in the camp of the resistance force, hastily assembled on and around the hillock within view of Thrognar’s citadel. The wounded were healed, and the officers held a confab in the commander’s tent. Nightmare Moon and her friends joined them.
To begin with, Chevalier called for Aide deCamp to provide a summary of their losses, their supplies, and their best estimates of the enemy’s strength. Methodically reviewing all they knew helped settle the minds of the officers, giving them something to think about other than the stinging defeat they had just suffered.
After his report was complete, thoughtful silence settled in the tent for some moments. Still, someone had to say it. Chevalier ventured, “We no longer `ave zee element of surprise in our column. Zey are all inside zee citadel!”
Faux Pas blurted, “Zis is ‘opeless! Zey are impregnable!”
Derpy blinked and looked up at Nightmare Moon, sitting by her side. “They can’t have children?”
Nightmare nosed at her and said softly, “Shush… It means they can’t be defeated.”
Souffle suggested, “We could wait… starve zem out!”
“Are you prepared to wait for years?” Nightmare asked. “They just sacked the town of Bledsoe, remember? They have all it’s provisions! No… We must assail the castle. We must crack it like an egg.”
Chevalier eyed her speculatively. “Your magic is puissant, Lady Eero. Could you not teleport into zee castle? Per-apps you could open zee drawbridge from inside. Zen we could take zee castle by storm!”
“No… The castle is warded against magical entry. I could break through the wards, but not without alerting those inside. Then I would have to fight them all within their own lair — and surely end up captured again.”
They pondered briefly, then Derpy sat upright and raised a hoof and said, “I know a plan to get us in without magic!”
Nightmare sighed. “No Derpy, we need an intelligent plan.”
“This is intelligent! I remember when I was in school my teacher Miss Cheerilee told me about it.” The others looked at her curiously. She fidgeted, suddenly uncomfortable being the center of attention. “Uhhh… We’ll need a lot of wood to build it, though.”
Reconnoiter offered, “Zee grassland is not all barren. Zere is a wooded wataircourse only a few miles from here. We can fly zee timbers from zere, and construct whatevair is needed behind zee hillock, out of the troggles’ sight. So… Tell us about zis plan!”
The troggles stayed buttoned up in their castle. Sharp-eyed pegasus scouts reported that they seemed to be preparing for a siege. Meanwhile, work progressed rapidly on Derpy’s scheme. Pegasi and earth ponies moved timbers, unicorns positioned, shaped and joined them, and gradually the construct took form.
“Are you certain of this plan, Derpy?” asked Nightmare Moon as she gazed upon the gigantic wooden horse.
Derpy fluttered happily. “I’m sure, I’m sure! Miss Cheerilee told me it worked many years ago! We’ll hide inside, and when they take this ‘gift horse’ inside the castle, then we’ll wait until they’re all asleep, and then climb out and open the drawbridge.”
Nightmare shook her head. “Why does it worry me that this is your idea?”
Soon the gift horse was completed, and a few hardy volunteers were selected to climb inside. Derpy insisted on joining them. Tusk knelt beside her and asked, “Are you sure, Derpy? You aren’t a soldier!”
“But it was my idea! And we won’t fight, we’ll just sneak out and open the gate.”
Tusk ruffled her mane. “I’d go in your place if I could fit into that thing. I just hope you’ll be all right.”
“She should be fine,” Nightmare Moon opined. “She’s a dreamer like you. In the worst case, if she’s attacked, she should wake up and find herself back in her bed in Equestria.”
“Uh… I thought if someone died in a dream, they’d die for real.”
Nightmare Moon shook her head. “That is a myth — for the most part. It can happen, but only under exceptional circumstances.”
Despite the size of the horse, getting the volunteers into it was a tight squeeze. The door in its belly was sealed shut so neatly that from the outside it did not look like it was meant to open at all. Then a few strong earth ponies harnessed themselves and began to pull the gift horse, rolling as it did upon wheels built onto its feet. They pulled it out from behind the hillock into view of the citadel.
Once the wooden horse was positioned outside the castle, the ponies unhitched themselves and retreated, leaving their peace offering to the troggles.
There was no response from the citadel for ten minutes… thirty minutes… an hour…
Then, with a clanking noise, the drawbridge (more a gangplank, really) began to come down.
Anyone very close to the wooden horse might have heard voices: “They’re letting the bridge down to take us inside!”
“SHH!”
“SHH!”
“SHHH!”
“Quiet Derpy!”
“Not a sound!”
“SHHH!”
Peering over the hillock, Dominus Tusk, Nightmare Moon and the other pony officers watched. Deja Vu enthused, “Look, ‘Eero! Zey are taking it inside! ‘Ow can zis plan fail?”
Nightmare Moon only muttered, “Derpy will find a way.”
Slowly, slowly the horse was towed up the ramp and into the castle courtyard, and then the drawbridge was pulled up behind it.
On a vantage point atop one of the towers stood a muscular, quadrupedal figure: a grizzled gray ram with heavy, curved horns. Staring down into the courtyard, he shook his head and muttered, “I can’t believe they were foolish enough to use this ancient trick. It was already antiquated even before Tambelon was banished to this netherworld.”
Troggles gathered around the horse with their staff-weapons, laughing and jostling. When they were all in position around the inner walls of the courtyard, they began to simmer down, waiting for the signal from above. Thrognar propped his cloven hooves up on the edge of the crenel and called down, “Ready… aim… FIRE!”
Gleefully they unloaded on the wooden structure. With sound and fury, the storm of spell bolts merged, overloaded and detonated. Troggles were knocked back off their feet by the concussion, and smoke, sparks and fragments of wood blasted out in all directions.
The roar of the blast gave way to a roar of cheers. So great was the force of the explosion that the horse’s head, still mostly intact, was launched into the air and traced a smoldering arc over the walls of the castle, past the reptilian beasts of burden, and landed with a crash on the grassland beyond.
After the wooden horse head came to rest, in a few moments it began to make clunking and scuffling sounds, then a sooty mass of gray fur and feathers tumbled out. After a couple of tries, Derpy managed to get her feet under her. She blinked, wobbled, and shook her head. She muttered, “Next time I see Miss Cheerilee, I’ve gotta ask her about that last part.”
19 - The Citadel: Round 3
The next morning at dawn the drawbridge lowered and armed troggles emerged from the citadel. They took up guard positions around it, and some of them began tending to the giant lizards, checking for injuries and inspecting their harnesses.
Before noon the fortress began to move. Scouts and guards walked ahead and on either side as the titanic beasts and their titanic burden rumbled slowly across the plains, leaving a flattened-and-scraped track behind.
The troggle fortress descended from the high plain. It generally avoided hills and gullies, but otherwise crushed everything in its path indiscriminately; trees, roads, fields and homesteads were ground under the feet and bellies of the lizards and the skid of the moving castle they pulled. Day and night it moved, the lizards never tiring.
The ponies trailed after it, keeping their distance. They couldn’t march day and night — not for long, anyhow. They had to stop and camp from time to time, then move more quickly to catch up with the citadel’s slow-but-relentless journey, relying on their pegasus scouts to keep track of its movements.
Meanwhile, Nightmare Moon and Chevalier laid their plans.
On the fifth day Reconnoiter swooped into the camp with news: “Zee trogs ‘ave stopped and emairged from zee ceetadel! Zey ‘ave sent out a raiding party!”
Nightmare Moon was ecstatic. “This is our chance! We shall attack while the fortress is stationary and lightly defended. If we can take it, the raiding party will have no refuge when they return, and we can destroy them piece meal.” She pointed with her hoof to other officers. “Avant Garde, get the torches ready! Escargot, rouse the Frivoli reserves! We may need our full force of numbers before this day is over.”
Dominus Tusk scratched the back of his head and asked, “Shouldn’t we try to intercept the raiders and keep them from plundering another village?”
Nightmare responded curtly, “That matters not. This castle must fall. Ready yourself for battle!”
The troggles had posted a few sentries, but they were no match for Nightmare Moon, who stealthily overwhelmed them. Before noon the pony army had moved into position. When they charged into battle, they had surprise on their side and quickly scattered the few guards that had remained outside the castle walls.
Unicorns put up shields overhead to guard against arrows. Nightmare Moon then landed near one of the lizard beasts. “Let us see what this does!” she said, and she began to cast a spell. A blast of magic shot from her horn and splashed against the side of the creature — harmlessly. She snarled and cast again… and again… but to no effect. She stamped a frustrated hoof. “Tis as I feared; even dragons are not so resistant to spells. Well, let us see how they like fire! Bring up the torches!”
Teams of pegasi flew to the forefront, each team carrying a sharpened pole with a large bundle of pitch-soaked rags tied around the front end. Unicorns lit the bundles on fire with quick spells, then the pegasi rammed their torches into the side of the beast.
The lizard swiveled its basketball-sized eye with mild curiosity; then, finding the entire matter uninteresting, it closed its eyes and went back to dozing.
The pegasi held their torches in position for a few minutes, hoping the heat would build up enough to have some effect, but it was for naught. “Zey do not even react to zee fire! Zere hides are eenvulnairable!” Deja Vu observed needlessly.
A husky cheer was heard from in front of the castle as troggles spilled out from the drawbridge to counter-attack. A chaotic battle erupted, with casualties on both sides.
Nightmare Moon and Dominus Tusk acquitted themselves well, but even with their might the ponies could no more than hold their ground. In the midst of the fray, Nightmare found Avant Garde. She ordered, “We can still prevail. Go to Escargot! Have him commit all the reserves and pitch into their flank now!” The pegasus saluted and zoomed away.
Minutes passed, but the flank attack never came. The ponies were slowly driven back, struggling to carry their spell-stunned comrades lest they fall into enemy hands. When scouts reported the troggle raiding party was returning and could soon join the battle, there was no other option but withdrawal — yet again. The pony army broke away from the citadel and returned to camp to lick their wounds.
That evening the officers gathered once more in the command tent, and other ponies gathered around the tent to learn what they could. Nightmare Moon was silent, brooding, while each officer gave his report of the day’s action from his own perspective — until Escargot began to give his report. She interrupted with a question: “Why did you not bring in the Frivoli reserves to strike at the enemy’s flank and break them?”
He stammered, “I… I could not. Zee Frivoli ponies, zey are steel not feet for battle; zey ‘ave not enough arms and training. Zey are airth ponies, but zey ‘ave not zee battle ‘elms.”
The light in the tent grew dim, and some ponies thought they heard thunder rumbling in the distance. Nightmare Moon was visibly shaking as she said, with carefully restrained voice, “Every pony leave the room except: Escargot, Chevalier, Reconnoiter, Avant Garde.” The ponies glanced at one another uncertainly, until Nightmare growled, “Now!” Then there was a rush to the exit, with only the four named remaining.
“Avant Garde… When I sent you with a message to Escargot, telling him to attack the enemy’s flank. That. Was. An. ORDER!” The tent shook with the fury of her voice. Those gathered around the outside of the tent — including Derpy and Dominus Tusk — flinched, as the canvas did nearly nothing to diminish her shouting.
But she was only getting warmed up. “Why are the Frivoli ponies even here if they can’t fight? When we were planning the assault, they were part of the plans. Were you lying to me even then? OR DID YOU JUST DECIDE AT THE LAST MINUTE THAT YOU WERE TOO COWARDLY TO COMMIT TO THE BATTLE?”
Chevalier interjected, “Mademoiselle, I must object! My offisairs are…”
“COWARDS! TRAITORS! BUNGLERS! These supposed officers of Le Grand Armee barely know how to scratch behind their own ears[1]. We should put the mud-pony farmers in charge!”
Outside the tent, pony ears drooped, tails were tucked between their legs, and eyes cast to the ground. Derpy whimpered as the shouting continued. Dominus Tusk, sitting cross-legged beside her, pulled her close and stroked her mane soothingly.
The ranting went on. “I’ve led armies into battle before, and I conquered everything before me. I did that! But you lot… Despite all your medals and military doctrine, you’re nothing but A BUNCH OF CHEESE-EATING SURRENDER DONKEYS!”
Chevalier begged, “‘Eero, please! All eez not lost! We can steel arm and train zee resairves and balance zee tairms of zee next engagement.”
“Arm them with what? Can you conjure up battle helms out of nothing?” It was a rhetorical question. Battle helms for earth ponies were specialized and costly items, usually custom-fitted to their wearers.
Ponies glanced at one another. Reconnoiter ventured, “euh… We might be able to acquire some swords for zem…”
Nightmare scoffed, “Swords? You’d give swords to those foals? Half of them would cut their own legs off!” Grim silence ruled for some moments. Then she sneered, “Go on… You colts can strut about and play soldier for a while, and I’ll solve this problem myself. I know where to get some weapons the mud-ponies can handle.” She snorted and stomped out of the tent.
Nightmare Moon had hardly gotten out through the tent flap when she glanced down and said, “Derpy! Come with me! I have a mission for you.”
Derpy sniffed and wiped at her eyes with her pastern, and looked upward. “Really?”
“Come along!” She led Derpy away from the crowd. When they had some privacy she stopped and sat down, and Derpy did likewise. Nightmare then removed her helmet and peytral, allowing her spectral mane and tail to take solid form of indigo blue once more. She looked to the much smaller pony and said, “It seems I cannot rely on my supposed allies here, but I know I can count on you — my friend — to carry out a simple task.”
Derpy saluted. “I can help! uh… Can I really?”
“I believe so. Now listen closely to my instructions! I want you to fly back to my own castle and retrieve some things for me. You’ve been there before. The night-gaunts will let you enter, and Nuala and the Vermin Kid know you. They’ll help you.”
Derpy nodded. Then uncertainty crossed her face. “um… Is it a long ways to fly?”
“Yes, Derpy. It is a long flight, but I can help with that. Now watch!” She looked upward, and dark blue sparkles fizzled up and down her horn as she cast a spell. A bright light appeared, high up in the dark sky. “There! You see that star?”
“Ooooh! It’s pretty.”
“It will magically guide you to my castle, and it will guide you back. As long as you follow it, you will fly fast and far — and safely, as long as you don’t stop. I must warn you against stopping in the land of Ling, where the stone circles and dark cedar brakes are. Fly onward to the Sea of Green, and there you may rest upon an island if you need to. Do you understand?”
Derpy’s face scrunched up in concentration, then she nodded. “Don’t stop at the dark place. Islands are OK. Got it!” Then she frowned a little and asked, “What am I supposed to bring back?”
“I was just getting to that. In the castle armory you will find a large supply of maces. I want you to bring back all the maces that you can. You can get the night-gaunts to come with you on the return trip, to help carry them.”
Derpy frowned, and her eyes went just a bit more skewed than usual. “Maces?”
“Yes, Derpy. Only bring the maces. With the maces and the night-gaunts, we’ll be able to tip the scales of battle here in our favor and end this absurd standoff.”
Derpy scratched behind her ear[2]. “Well, uh… If that’s what you really want, I’ll do my best.”
Nightmare smiled softly and nuzzled Derpy. “Thank you, my friend! I know I can count on you. Go with my blessing!”
Derpy saluted again, launched into the sky, and fluttered off in the direction of the bright star.
After stowing away their loot from the plundered village, the troggles spent a couple of days celebrating their latest victory. Camped close by — just out of archery range — the pony army could do little more than watch. In the dawn twilight of the third day, the troggles prepared the citadel to move again, and the ponies, seeing this, began preparing to break camp as well.
Dominus Tusk and Chocolate Mousse were entertaining themselves by butting heads (quite literally), when Nightmare Moon sensed something in the cool morning air, something approaching. She scanned the skies, then broke into a grin. “Chevalier!” she called out. “Come and look! We are about to get some reinforcements.”
The unicorn dropped what he was doing and came over to investigate, and some other curious ponies joined him. They followed Nightmare’s gaze to see black silhouettes flapping their way through the brightening sky.
Derpy led the way, and a dozen night-gaunts followed. Derpy had a strap across her back with a burlap sack hanging from either side, like a pair of crudely improvised saddlebags, and each night-gaunt clutched another sack in its claws. Derpy panted lightly, tired but excited, and announced, “I got ‘em! I got ‘em!”
“Well done, Derpy! Let us see what you brought!”
Derpy set down her sacks, took one between her front hooves and tugged the drawstrings with her teeth, then dumped it onto its side, spilling out the contents. The night-gaunts followed her example, tugging open their own sacks and upending them at the same time.
Nightmare Moon blinked at the veritable flood of tiny brown and gray objects spilling out and rapidly scattering across the ground, not sure for a few seconds what she was seeing. Then her puzzlement changed to a look of horror. “No… No, Derpy, even you can’t be that dumb!”
Derpy flinched, puzzled and hurt by Nightmare’s response. All around, other ponies whinnied, reared and pranced as innumerable rodents darted around their hooves. Nightmare smacked herself in her forehead. “What am I saying? Of course you are that dumb. Maces, Derpy, maces! You were supposed to bring back maces, not mice!”
“Ohhhh… I always get plurals mixed up!”
Nightmare shrilled, “You snail brain! Why did I ever think I could count on you to do anything? Get out of my sight! Out! Out of the dreaming and back to the waking world with you!” Indigo blue magic flared up from Nightmare’s horn, then around Derpy — outlining her huddled, whimpering form until she faded from view.
Still fuming, Nightmare Moon snorted and looked around at the chaos unfolding throughout the camp. More than a few stalwart soldiers were now bucking and screaming like little fillies as mice got into their uniforms. Others tried to stamp on the skittering vermin. She sighed and sat down. Sometimes it just doesn’t pay to be a princess, she reflected.
THUMP.
What was that? She looked around?
THUMP.
It seemed to be coming from the direction of the citadel. The lizards were acting agitated. One of them lashed its tail. THUMP. Another waved a foot in the air, then slapped at the ground. THUMP. One of the lizards opened its mouth and bawled, “Waaaaaaauhhhh!”
Dominus Tusk was first to understand. “They’re afraid of the mice!”
Indeed it was so, and the beasts only became more and more upset. The entire pony camp watched as the enormous lizards twitched and pulled at their harnesses and began straining to get away, each pulling in a different direction. Something had to give, and — unfortunately for the troggles — the castle foundation and walls proved weaker than the harnesses. “STAMPEDE!” some pony shouted as the castle broke apart. Then followed a general panic and ponies running for dear life while the citadel collapsed into a cloud of dust and debris and the lizards took off running in all directions. They trampled everything in their path, useless harnesses trailing behind as they fled from the terrible mice.
Some minutes passed until the dust began to clear enough to see, and Nightmare Moon and the pony officers began to round up their army and put them back into some sort of order. Moans and shouts came from the wrecked castle too. Nightmare called out, “Pony troops rally, rally! The trogs are crawling out of the rubble. HAVE AT THEM!”
The battle that followed was one-sided as ponies took out their accumulated frustrations on the shocked and bruised troggles that hadn’t already perished in the collapse. For long minutes the ruins were filled with sounds of victory and death — mostly death.
Dominus Tusk waved to Nightmare Moon. “Over here! They’ve found Thrognar. He’s alive!”
“Don’t kill him!” Nightmare ordered, and she opened her wings and flitted over. The scruffy old ram was bruised and bloodied, held firmly in a unicorn’s magic. With Tusk standing over him as well, he wasn’t going anywhere. Sullenly he glared at his captors, more of whom gathered around with each passing moment.
Nightmare glared back, then grinned an eager and not-at-all-friendly grin. “The rest of you can do what you like with this old goat. I just need for him to answer one question first.” Her horn flared, and her telekinetic aura easily brushed aside the other unicorn’s magic. She picked up Thrognar and lifted him to her eye level. He gasped with pain in her very firm magical grip. She leaned forward, her nostrils flaring as she sniffed him, then wrinkled her lip in disgust. “Where is the other one you captured like me?”
Some pony muttered to a comrade, “Other one?”
Thrognar growled back at her a little. He was nothing if not tough. “What is she to you? Your twin?”
“Perhaps. Thrognar… Answer my question!” He winced as her field tightened.
“She’s gone, long gone!” he choked out.
“Gone where?” she pressed.
“Where you’ll never get her,” he growled. “I sold her to my brother, Grogar. She’s in Tambelon now, and you don’t have a hope in Tartarus of fighting your way into there.”
She stared at him for a few moments as if looking into his soul to find the truth — and perhaps it was so, for if any pony would have mastered a lie-detecting spell, it would have been her. Then, without warning, she dropped him to the ground, snorted and turned away.
Ponies poured out from the surrounding countryside and villages for the victory celebration. Festivities continued well into the following day. Then, in the afternoon, the leaders of the resistance force gathered in the command tent for a final meeting.
“We must march upon Tambelon!” Nightmare Moon insisted.
This proposal was met with a noted lack of enthusiasm.
Chevalier tried to explain the situation in a polite way. “Lady ‘Eero, we all know you air consairned for your, euh, comrade — whoevair she may be. ‘Owevair, we gathaired our forces to repel zee troggle invasion. Now zat is accomplished. Our volunteers weesh to retairn home.”
Reconnoiter added, “We steel ‘ave zee giant leezaird beasts roaming Frivoli, trampling upon homes and fields. Surely zat must be our next priority.”
Aide de Camp added, “To attack Tambelon, we would ‘ave to march our entire force through Dankendreer! Eet would be an enormous undairtaking!”
Nightmare Moon struggled to restrain her temper and her impatience. “We… I need to recover that captive. Chevalier, did you not pledge to aid me in this?”
Chevalier fidgeted. “I deed so. ‘Owevair, we believed she was in the ceetadel. Marching eento Tambelon eez anothair matter. And you ‘ave not explained just who eez thees capteve, and why eez she so eemportant. I cannot ask zees of my army.”
She glared, looking around the gathering at the faces of all the other ponies. None of them met her gaze, and she knew that her argument was lost. Then she looked to the huge minotaur. “Dominus Tusk! I know I can count on you to accompany me on one more quest.”
He looked down toward his feet and shook his head. “I’m done,” he said.
“What? Why? I thought you were my friend!”
He scowled and looked up at her and said, “I thought so too, for a while. But I’ve seen how you treat your friends.” Then he turned and walked out of the meeting — and his body faded from view as he went back to the waking world, and Nightmare Moon was left to her own devices.
Author's Note
[1] Ponies that “barely know how to scratch behind their own ears”, using a hind leg, would be equivalent to humans that “barely know how to pick their own noses”. It’s not a flattering image.
[2] But it’s cute when Derpy does it.
Nim sighed as she pushed a mop. Standing on her hind legs, she had her front hooves wrapped around the mop handle, one of them looped into a strap to help keep the handle from getting away. It was awkward, though she preferred it over pushing the mop with her mouth.
She dropped the wet mop head into a pail, then pushed down a lever with her free hoof to squeeze dirty water out of it. Then she plopped the mop head back onto the floor and began to mop up more water from the aisle. Faintly audible was the drum of rain on the store’s roof, and the plip-plip of water dripping into buckets strategically placed under the leaky spots of the ceiling.
She turned — and her horn thwacked the shelf, sending some cans tumbling into the floor. “Stupid horn!” she cursed. Then she grumbled, “useless appendage…” She unhooked her hoof from the mop and began picking up the cans of “FOOD,” as each was marked in generic black text on a generic white label.
Close by where she was working, a slate-gray pony was stacking cans into a large pyramid-like display. Like Nim, the other pony was wearing the store uniform: an apron-like bib and bow tie. Unlike Nim, this pony had on a pair of thick glasses and began happily singing a little tune as she stacked the cans:
Gimme a break! Gimme a break! Break me off a piece of that Snik Snak bar! Gimme a break! Gimme a break! Break me off a piece of that Snik Snak bar! You could keep it to yourself, but that wouldn’t be fair, Because that blackstrap molasses taste is loved everywhere. Gimme a break! Gimme…
“Slate, stop singing!”
The mare blinked at Nim. “What? I’m a singing gal.”
Nim swung the damp mop around so that it slapped Slate in the face. “I’m right here next to you and you’re bucking singing. Cut it out!”
Slate flinched and then wiped at her face with her pastern. “Sheesh! Why so tense, Nim?”
A more masculine voice called out, “Nim!”
The two mares glanced to the aisle where an older, dull brown stallion had approached while they bickered, and he was accompanied by a burly gnoll in a security guard uniform.
Slate gasped, “Mister Storey!”
The stallion kept his focus on Nim. “You were late again this morning. Now, normally I’d let it go, but it’s been brought to my attention that you’re not paying attention to the way you space the cans.” Nim didn’t meet his gaze as he spoke to her; rather she continued wringing out the mop in the pail.
“Many young ponies of your age in these uncertain times…” Mr. Storey paused, then leaned closer to her. “Nim? Are you paying attention to me?”
The gnoll leaned over and jabbed Nim with his meaty paw, getting her to look up, and then pointed to Mr. Storey. “Hey! He’s talking to you.”
She turned her gaze to Mr. Storey, looking directly at him for the first time, and said: “Buck you!”
The stallion gasped and stepped back, but Slate began to giggle. Nim glared at her for a moment, then ducked her head, hooked her horn under Slate’s leg and flipped her back into the pyramid of cans she’d just been stacking. The cans tumbled and rolled all over the aisle while Slate sprawled helplessly flailing in their midst.
“Good lord!” choked Mr. Storey.
Meanwhile the gnoll pulled a studded billy club out of his belt and brandished it at Nim, as if getting ready to whack her. He taunted, “Jackass! Come on, bucker, just try it! Come on!”
Nim backed away slowly, then reached up with a hoof to hook her bow tie, ripped it off and flung it at the gnoll. Then she turned and walked away, toward the front of the store and her exit.
From the floor Slate yelled, “Way to get fired from your job in a big way, Nim!”
Mr. Storey looked down at Slate and said, “What are you laughing at? Louie, throw her out too!”
Louie grabbed Slate’s bib. “C’mon you bucking worm!”
As he picked her up she blinked uncomprehendingly and squeaked, “Me?”
He gave her a shove, sending her staggering into a cart and falling to the floor again; then she scrambled to get away and out of the store too.
Nim and Slate sat on a gray concrete slab of a loading pier, under a gray metal overhang that provided some shelter from the gray clouds and rain. Nim was nosing through the classified section of a newspaper. She read: “Night watchpony, Misty Town?”
“Yep,” nodded Slate.
“Asbestos worker, Drizzle City?”
“Yep, yep,” nodded Slate.
“Hay fry maker, Fogsville? heheh… It’s absurd.”
“Yeah, well you think it’s funny, huh? There’s room to move as a fry cook, Nim! You know, I could be manager in two years. Queen! Goddess!”
Nim passed the soggy paper over to Slate. While she perused it, Nim said: “Y’know, Slate… I had this wild dream last night. It was with you and me, and… we were working in this sleazy dump of a hotel, down in Fort Raine. And we were bellhops. And we were 65 years old.” Slate snuffled indifferently. Nim insisted, “It was so real… it was really… realistic, you know?”
Slate snorted. “Yeah, and then what? You woke up in a puddle?”
Nim gave Slate a light jab with her horn, and then hopped off the pier.
“Ow! You jerk! Where are you going, jackass?”
“Away from you,” Nim answered, and she trotted off into the rain.
Nim plodded along the street, sullen, brooding, her black wings bedraggled, hooves splashing in muddy puddles, and her midnight blue mane and tail plastered with rain. Most of the other ponies she saw as she passed were old, shuffling, wrinkled as though pruned by the damp.
She didn’t belong here. She, the raven-black mare with both wings and a horn, and her slit-pupil eyes, didn’t look like any other pony. She didn’t fit in. And she knew, somehow, that she was meant for more than this. She wouldn’t, couldn’t, settle for this life. But what could she do? This was not a world of hope.
Paying no mind to where her feet carried her, she wandered past a junk yard. She kicked a can a few times. She passed a laundry, a pawn shop, a domino parlor.
Then something caught her eye, and she paused. There was a store she hadn’t seen before. Its neon sign was a beacon of color on the otherwise gray street, and it read: SAMEYE’S CANDY OUTLET.
A candy store? The cheerful colors of the sign, and the colors in the window, drew her. It seemed like ages since she’d seen any color. She pushed through the door and went inside.
It was quiet inside. The gentle drumming of rain on the roof and the plip-plip sounds of water dripping into buckets somehow made the shop seem quieter than no sound at all. There was candy everywhere, of every kind. There were jars of jelly beans, gummis and jawbreakers. There were baskets of taffy. There were bags of caramels and peppermints and lemon drops. There were fancy chocolates inside the display case. Nim had never seen so much candy before.
She wanted some. She was seized by a sudden, irrational desire for candy — as if it was the only thing that might appease her troubled soul. She knew that she had no money, though.
“Looking for something?” called a soft, raspy voice. Nim glanced at the counter. There was a unicorn pony with a deep purple coat and green mane. He was old and wrinkled, like so many who lived in this town. She didn’t answer, looking down at her hooves instead. The unicorn grabbed a large, glass jar between his hooves and lifted the lid off, and pushed the jar forward on the counter. It was filled with bright green spheres, almost glowing with fluorescent color. “Sour apple delights! Try some, won’t you?”
Almost against her will, Nim moved closer. Hesitantly she sniffed until the chemical tang of artificial apple flavoring stung her nostrils. And yet she was tempted. There had been no color in her life for so long, she could hardly remember it. She shuffled closer.
“Come on, girl!” urged the shopkeeper. “It won’t cost you anything you’ll miss.”
Something sparkled. She caught a glimpse in the corner of her eye, something on the shelf behind the old pony. Some sort of candy roll wrapped in shiny foil with a label in all the colors of the rainbow. “SWEET DREAMS,” the label read, and Nim knew what she wanted. With a fluid motion she reared up, placed her front feet on the counter top, and stretched her neck and muzzle way over past the clerk, and snatched the roll of candy from the shelf with her lips.
“What? No!” cried the old pony. “You can’t have those. They’re not supposed to be here. They’re not for sale!” Nim giggled past the roll of candy clutched in her mouth and she turned and trotted to the exit. The old stallion, more spry than he looked, hurried around the counter. As Nim pushed out of the door and began to run, she could hear him yelling: “THEY’RE NOT FOR SALE! STOP, THIEF!”
She ran and ran, splashing in the puddles and laughing around the candy roll still clutched between her teeth. She ducked into an alleyway, looking for a dry and clean place to hide. She found a shed where carts were stored behind a place of business. She went to the small stoop at the back of the shop and dropped the roll of candy onto the bare concrete. She gazed at the colorful wrapper for only a few moments, then she wedged the roll between her front hooves and nibbled at it, trying to get a purchase on the wrapper with her teeth. She fumbled the roll, then tried again.
She caught the edge of the paper, and it began to rip. Carefully she manipulated it with her teeth and lips until the wrapping came apart and candies spilled onto the concrete floor.
They were cheery pastel colors, and each one had a bit of writing on it. Her eyes flitted from one to another:
SUNNY DAZE
TREE OF KNOWLEDGE
CUPS AND CAKES
PEPPERMINT TWIST
FUN AND GAMES
THE PLAY’S THE THING
CLEAR NIGHT MOONLIGHT
Her lips moved as she silently read that last one. Clear Night Moonlight. Deliberately she picked it up with her lips, then pulled it into her mouth with her tongue. She closed her eyes and bit into it. The tart-but-sweet flavor of dreamberries flooded her mouth.
When she opened her eyes again, she stood twice as tall as she had before, and her horn had tripled in length. A tingly sensation came from her hindquarters. She turned her head in time to see the sigil appear on her hip, as if clouds were parting in front of a crescent moon. She gasped softly, “I remember now.”
Two tall, spindly figures stood in front of a scrying mirror. They watched as Nightmare Moon summoned her armor and dressed herself.
The one wearing a brown suit ventured, “Lord, I do not understand. If I may ask, why did you send her assistance, when she has only shirked her assigned duties and sought out trouble?”
The very pale personage, not quite so tall and wearing a black cloak, rubbed his chin thoughtfully before answering. “Lucien, recall the reason why I bade my sister fetch Nightmare Moon to The Dreaming. By giving her free rein and observing where she ventures, I have learned much. I sense there is more to learn. Her story was not meant to end in Dankendreer — not like that. So, I have given her a nudge.”
In the mirror, Nightmare Moon spread her wings and took flight, and then the vision faded.
Morpheus continued, “Do not concern yourself, Lucien. All things in The Dreaming are within my grasp, should I choose to tighten it. She cannot escape, nor cause any harm that I cannot repair.”
Nightmare moon lay on her belly under a scraggly thorn tree and gazed across a dark plain, toward distant city walls. She’d been there for two days and nights, watching, studying and thinking. She had much to think about since her escape from Dankendreer.
She remembered from long ago her time as Princess Luna, guardian of pony dreams. She’d been confident then of her powers in the dream world. She’d thought herself supreme. How naive! The Dreaming, she now knew, was far more vast, more strange, and more dangerous than the cute little suburb she’d once patrolled. Four times now she’d almost been lost, and she wasn’t even sure what had saved her from the last trap. It was humbling. Nightmare Moon much misliked being humbled, and so she brooded.
She could sense the Nemesis was near. It could no longer fully mask its presence — not from her, not in The Dreaming. Not when she was this close. Could it sense her as well? Was it even now warning Grogar of her approach? No alarm had been raised during the time she’d been observing the city, but, for all she knew, Grogar could be quietly preparing a trap for her. Pensively, she scrutinized the timber ramparts.
Tambelon!
The dark city of legend!
When she was small, her mother had told her old pony tales about Tambelon. It was a city of evil that had long ago been banished to Morbia, the Shadow Realm. According to the story, once every five hundred years it reappeared. Then Grogar’s armies came out to wreak havoc on the land until — by pluck and luck, in the stories — some intrepid band of ponies managed to renew the spell and banish the city and its inhabitants for another five centuries.
She’d always assumed it was only a myth. Now she was unsure. Was the Dreaming the very same Shadow Realm that Tambelon had been banished to? Or was the entire city yet another purely fictional thing that took on a semblance of reality in The Dreaming? She’d ruled Equestria alongside her sister long enough that Tambelon should have reappeared at some time during her reign. Surely they would have heard about that, wouldn’t they? Perhaps it had reappeared somewhere else in the world, though — somewhere far beyond Equestria’s borders. The world was vast, after all.
She struggled to remember what the stories had said about Grogar. He was not a pony but a ram, like his younger brother Thrognar. Yet, the story told, Grogar was also a powerful warlock. Whenever Tambelon manifested in Equestria, he’d sent out his troggle armies to capture and enslave ponies and other beings.
If Grogar and Nemesis were in league, then Nightmare Moon faced a truly daunting prospect. Could she defeat a legendary warlock, his army, and her own doppelgänger at the same time? Moreover, she needed to capture Nemesis alive if at all possible, if her plans were to truly bear fruit. It was a critical component in her scheme to return to the land of the living, and to Equestria.
And now she had to do it without any friends. The thought aggravated her, and she sneered out loud, “Friendship! What a worthless thing it proved to be! None of my supposed friends would carry out my orders.”
She stewed. The situation was daunting, but the old inner flame had returned to Nightmare Moon when she broke free from Dankendreer. She couldn’t depend on anyone else, didn’t need anyone else. She relished the challenge and a chance to redeem her past errors. “If I can pull this off,” she thought, “nopony will dare question my power or my right to rule over Equestria.”
A large silhouette rose up from the city, slowly flapping its way into the starry sky. It was another stratodon and rider, going for a training flight, or perhaps a courier carrying a message to a raiding party. Perhaps they were still trying to find out what had happened to Thrognar. Nightmare narrowed her eyes as she watched it disappear into the distance. “I won’t take any chances this time. I can’t hold anything back. They’ll feel the full measure of my powers.”
The rising moon peeked over the horizon, shedding a subtle, golden glow across the plain. After it cleared distant hills, Nightmare Moon stood and walked along the banks of the river that passed under the walls of Tambelon, supplying the city with water. Cicadas buzzed, an owl hooted, and a light aroma of honeysuckle flavored the night air. Stands of reeds grew alongside the watercourse. Nightmare Moon smiled when she saw these. She stopped and closed her eyes, and her horn scintillated in midnight blue as she cast her spell. The night breeze grew stronger and began to rustle through the reeds.
Lanterns hung at the city gates, attended by a few sleepy guards. Others patrolled the city streets, their crude sandals slapping on the rough cobblestones, their lanterns bobbing and flickering, casting small pools of yellow light.
A patrolling troggle stopped — and his companion, who had been following, ran into him. “WTF DUDE??” the follower grunted in the crude language of trolls.
“SHUT UPU!! I HEARED SUMTHING” was the first troggle’s reply. “WTF IS TAHT MUSIC??/“
They both stood still for a few moments, peering down the streets and into the dark alleys, listening. The sound was wee and distant, but it was definitely some sort of tune, as though a lullaby played on flutes. The second troggle muttered, “WHOA THAT IS SUM WEIRD STHI” He slowly sank to the pavement, setting his rump on the ground. The other one wavered as if struggling to keep his balance, then sat down as well. In a few moments the pair were slumped against one another, dozing peacefully.
All around the city, at the gates, at the barracks, upon the castle ramparts, the few troggles that were still awake at this wee hour yawned, and their weapons fell from their hands. A few noticed the lullaby drifting on the night air, but none gave it much thought before succumbing to sleep.
With a few flaps of her wings, Nightmare Moon was across the outer wall. Her hooves clattered on the cobblestones of Tambelon’s main avenue inside the city gates. She spared barely a glance for the guards dozing in their lantern light.
She wrinkled her nose. Inside the city walls, the air was not so fresh — and the slumbering troggles had their own distinctive aroma. She strode down the middle of the main street with confidence. The previous night she’d made a reconnaissance flight high over the city during the darkest hours and had seen its basic layout. Now the moon lighted her path while she stepped around or over scattered trash. Lurking rats and the occasional mangy cat, unaffected by the lullaby spell, scattered when she passed by.
She passed remnants of buildings that must have been stately homes in their time, now overgrown with weeds and shrubs, doors and windows broken, flecks of paint clinging to gray, weathered boards. Someone, squatters perhaps, still took shelter in them, she guessed from the stink and debris.
Beyond the rotting homes she found a gladiatorial arena much like the one where she’d first fought Dominus Tusk. Nearby was the marketplace; most of the shops were boarded up, though a few still remained — the most notable of these being the saloons. At this wee hour, even those were shuttered and dark.
Past the arena was a two-story building of fortified stone with a parapet around its roof and barred windows: perhaps a jail, or perhaps officer’s quarters. Beyond it were squat, boxy, wooden buildings that Nightmare Moon chose to interpret as barracks. Both the jail and the barracks had sleeping troggles slumped near lanterns, and she saw no reason to approach them.
A stagnant, miasmic moat wandered through the city, past the barracks and training grounds, and beyond it were the stone ramparts of Castle Tambelon. Lanterns dotted the wall, sparse and feeble. Nightmare Moon spread her wings.
Grogar tossed and turned. His bed was large, his mattress and sheets luxuriant, and yet something was not right.
He rolled over yet again, sheets wrapping around his wizened body, constricting. His scarred nose twitched, then his eyes slowly opened and he muttered, “What is that sound?” With an impatient grunt he pushed aside the wadded covers and scooted off the bed, onto his cloven hooves.
He blinked blearily, looking around, notched ears perked up. He sniffed the air. “And that smell?” he muttered.
“BRAY! Bray, where are you?” Grogar bellowed in his gravelly voice. After a moment he grunted as he realized he wouldn’t be heard through the heavy walls and doors of his bed chamber. He stretched his neck, turning his head, reaching for a rope that dangled from the ceiling, clamped his yellowed teeth around it and yanked. Bells jangled somewhere not too far away in the castle, though barely audible to Grogar in his room. He tugged at the rope again and again, keeping up the din.
When there was again no response, Grogar cursed under his breath. He went to a wooden stand, next to the door, and nosed into a harness, lifted it off its peg and shook it into place around his neck with a jangle of brass sleigh bells. A larger bell, an open bell made of silver, settled into place in front of his chest. He opened the double doors and ventured out into the cold stone halls of his castle. He’d not taken many steps when he found a brown donkey standing in the hallway, attired in a rumpled pajama shirt and a night cap askew on his head. Grogar glared at him. “Bray, what’s wrong with you? I expect you to come when I call!”
The donkey said nothing.
“Bray? Speak up! Answer when I talk to you!”
The donkey remained silent for a moment… before letting out a loud snore.
“Great Neckbeard’s ghost!” Grogar exclaimed. “How can he do that?” He sniffed at the donkey and wrinkled his nose as he growled out the answer to his own question: “Magic!”
Grogar then held still and focused on Bray. His eyes gleamed eerily, and one of the sleigh bells around his neck jostled of its own accord, jangling harshly in the confined space of the hallway. From it shot a ruby red spark across to Bray’s hip.
True to his name the donkey brayed and reflexively bucked at whatever might be stinging or biting at his hindquarters. His hooves met nothing but air. Eyes wide, he glanced around, spotted Grogar, and froze.
Grogar pursed his wrinkled lips and squinted back with beady rufous eyes.
Bray bowed, groveling. “Oh, Master! uhh… What can I do for you in the, uh, middle of the night?”
“You were ensorcelled until I broke you free from the spell. Someone is using magic, Bray. Someone in my city is casting spells. I can smell it!” He sniffed again, and then sneered, “It reeks like one of those cute little ponies.” He put a contemptuous twist on the word cute, as if struggling to hold down his gorge.
Bray scratched behind an ear with a hind foot, then shook his head, long ears flopping as he tried to get fully awake. Then he responded, “One of the slaves? A unicorn?”
Grogar grumbled, as much to himself as to Bray, “All of the unicorns have been drained of magic. They couldn’t even light a match. Hmmm. All but one, perhaps. Yes… Down in the dungeon. One of them isn’t broken yet.”
Bray gulped. “You mean… That one? I had a bad feeling about it from the start, I knew it was going to be trouble.”
“Quit your whimpering! Get hold of yourself! I’m going down to check on the prisoner. You see if anyone else is awake, and wake whoever you can! But do it quietly. Don’t raise the alarm yet.”
Nightmare Moon’s instincts and the pull of her nemesis guided her unerringly through the unfamiliar halls of the castle, and she strolled with impunity past sleeping guards. The interior of the castle was deserted, the servants presumably already asleep in their quarters before the lullaby spell even reached them. The trace of presence she followed led her to the innermost keep, past yet another pair of comatose guards, then down a flight of stone steps, and at the bottom of these she found a strong iron door.
Curiously she scanned the door and found that it was magically warded; it would have been difficult to enter, especially without triggering an alarm — if it hadn’t been left open. “That is too convenient,” she muttered to herself. She entered slowly, silently, staying in the shadows. The dungeon was a simple corridor with stone cells along one side, but a lantern light flickered somewhere ahead. She moved closer, perked ears picking up the shuffle of hooves and raspy breath catching in a rough throat. At first the being who carried it was visible only as an indistinct silhouette between the light and herself.
It wasn’t until the silhouetted shape stopped to hang up the lantern on a wall hook that she was able to recognize it. Grogar! The resemblance to his younger brother left no doubt. His bells jangled when he stood up on his hind feet, front hooves braced against a crossbar of the cell door. “You’re awake!” he accused, addressing the occupant of the cell. “I figured as much. The reek of your magic is everywhere. What have you done to my troggles?”
After a few moments a voice drifted out from the cell — a voice uncannily like Nightmare Moon’s own, yet tired and weak. “You old fool. ’Tis no working of mine. Your doom, and mine, has come to Tambelon.”
“Riddles!” Grogar snarled. “You’re in no position to ply me with riddles, nag. Answer sensibly or I’ll have your black hide for a rug!”
Nightmare Moon’s heart raced while she pieced together what had happened. Grogar and the Nemesis weren’t allies, and he still wasn’t even aware of Nightmare’s presence. He’d even unwittingly opened the door for her. This was perfect! It was beyond perfect. It had to be destiny. Such moments had to be seized.
From the cell: “Nightmare Moon has come for me! Is that plain enough?”
Grogar squinted through the bars, into the dark depths of the cell. “Who — or what — is Nightmare Moon?”
“Turn around and see!” answered a voice from behind him. Grogar spun to look as Nightmare Moon stepped out of the shadows. Clad in her silver armor, starry mane billowing, she grinned at him and said: “BOO!” At the same time her horn glimmered with magic as she cast a spell she’d used often in The Dreaming: Aura of Fear.
Grogar took an involuntary step back, but only a step. “What’s this?” The spell Nightmare had cast fizzled out. Grogar’s momentary look of confusion shifted to a grimace, and he said, “Well, another little pony. Show me what you’ve got, girl!” He lowered his head, facing her with his horns, and scuffed the ground with a cloven hoof.
Nightmare Moon tossed her head and snorted, annoyed that Grogar was unaffected by the terror she usually evoked so easily. More direct measures would be needed. “You asked for it, old goat.” She charged her horn with her most powerful lightning spell and let it fly straight at him. In the claustrophobic confines of the dungeon there was no way to miss.
The blast of thunder and blinding flash obscured the details of what happened then, as the lightning bolt seemed to hit Grogar, but a moment later an equally powerful bolt returned against Nightmare Moon, hurling her backward through the dungeon’s corridor.
Confused and hurting, she groaned and struggled to pick herself up. Past the spots in her eyes she saw Grogar walking toward her, seemingly unharmed. Over the ringing in her ears she heard him say, “You certainly have some strength. Now taste mine!” One of the bells on his collar jangled, and his horns sparked red as a spell coalesced. Hastily Nightmare Moon cast a defensive shield.
The shield had hardly formed and was already collapsing by the time Grogar’s flame bolt impacted it. The half-formed shield couldn’t prevent fire from scorching the feathers of her wings and searing her legs, ears and delicate nose, though it saved her from much worse.
With no idea why her magic wasn’t working or how to fight back, Nightmare Moon did what came most naturally to ponies in situations such as this: she turned and ran. Her hooves clattered on the dungeon steps while Grogar’s mocking laughter chased her. She scrambled past the iron door and onward, to get out of the keep, to the open sky of the castle courtyard.
As soon as she was clear she spread her wings and flapped, but barely managed more than a hop before stumbling back onto the ground. Her primary flight feathers had been scorched badly, her wings clipped by fire!
Hurriedly she began to cast a restorative spell upon her wings, but the spell once again fizzled out as quickly as it had formed. This time she could see exactly where the magic was going: it swirled and then whisked away, behind her, to Grogar, who was just then strolling out of the castle keep with smugness written all over his ugly face. The wisp of magic from Nightmare’s spell funneled into the silver bell hanging from his collar. He urged her, “Go on! Use more magic! Every spell you cast serves only to give me power.”
Now entering into panic, Nightmare Moon tried to shift into her night mist form. She’d barely begun to vaporize when, once again, her magic failed her, and she returned to solid flesh and blood and slumped to the ground.
“You see, it’s no use,” Grogar explained as he approached her. “How did you think I was able to use magic? Didn’t you even wonder? I can’t produce magical energy the way a unicorn does, but with this enchanted bell I can take it from them. And when I’ve taken all of yours — oh, what power I’ll have!”
Yells came from the outer portals of the yard as a squad of armed troggles rushed in, followed closely by Bray, who had by now exchanged his pajamas for mail barding and a helmet. “There’s the intruder!” he brayed. “Block off all the exits!”
“You might as well surrender,” Grogar offered amiably. “I can make your life comfortable here, once you’ve been trained to recharge my bells on command.”
Nightmare Moon glared, draconic eyes filled with the blackest of hate. “That will never happen,” she spat.
“I’ll break you!” His eyes glowed, a sleigh bell jangled, and an angry red flare of magic surged upward into the air above Nightmare Moon. Her own long centuries of accumulated arcane knowledge and experience allowed her to recognize the working; in that split-second before the spell manifested, she realized he was conjuring a massive object. With a powerful kick of her hindquarters she leapt away, and an iron cage crashed down over the spot where she’d been.
“I’ll get her!” yelled Bray, and he gave chase, his poorly-secured barding flapping as he galloped. She raced toward one of the gates, but troggles had formed up in front of it, blocking her path with their staff-weapons. Some worked to close the gate while a couple of others fired badly-aimed bolts of magic. Nightmare Moon made a sharp turn away.
Grogar cursed and began casting another spell. Nightmare’s turn brought her closer to Bray, who made a heroic leap and clamped his jaws onto her tail. Nightmare Moon whinnied and bucked; she hadn’t even noticed when her tail had become solid matter again. Her kick could have easily taken off the donkey’s head, but a glancing blow merely sent his helmet flying and left him dazed. An instant later another magically summoned iron cage came down — right over Bray, trapping him.
“Blistering imbecile!” Grogar cursed, and he trotted to the cage.
Bray moaned, “Did anyone get the number of that ox cart?”
Nightmare Moon had made it to a clear part of the courtyard and skidded to a halt in a cloud of dust. She glanced this way and that, looking for a way out of this trap. Another magic bolt flashed past her. She couldn’t just stand here and wait for the troggles to close in. Gritting her teeth, she turned away from the gates, toward a castle wall, and charged at it. Then she spread her damaged wings and flapped with everything she had. Buzzing like a hummingbird, she found a gear she’d never known she had before, and she wobbled into the air.
“STOP HER!” Grogar yelled out. Troggles fired their staves ineffectually, most bolts sizzling away through the air, a couple detonating upon the stone rampart. Straining, Nightmare Moon scuffed a hoof upon the top of the parapet as she barely cleared it, then disappeared from view.
A moment later a loud splash was heard, and a strangled cry came from the other side of the wall. Grogar laughed and said, “She didn’t get far. It sounds like she ran into the Magnet. Let’s go outside and take a look, shall we?” He quickly dispelled the cages, releasing Bray, then trotted toward the gate.
The troggles re-opened the gate and followed Grogar out. Bray, still recovering from his gong-ringing and having difficulty walking in a straight line, trailed behind. The troggles broke out in laughter when they saw Nightmare Moon trapped in the coiled tail of a river monster, itself still partially submerged in the moat. Purple-scaled it was, with a mane of silver hair. “W00T!!1” yelled a troggle. Others chimed in: “MANGET FTW!!” and “U PWNED TEH PONE!”
Even Grogar was uncharacteristically pleased as he called up to the river monster, “Good work, Cynthia! I’ll have the Stratodons bring you some extra fish for this.”
It — or rather, she — peered down at him and answered, “Make it good, Grogar! Herring fish, or cod. I be sick and tired of trash fish.”
“Of course, of course! Has the pony ceased struggling yet?”
“She done got the sass squeezed right outta her.” The river monster uncoiled its tail and dropped Nightmare Moon in a limp heap upon the bank of the moat.
Grogar nodded and waved the troggles forward. “Come on, boys! Bind her horn, truss her up, and put her in the dungeon with the other one!”
Nightmare Moon’s eyes barely opened. She worked to breathe. The troggles were crowding around. “HOGGLE U GOT TEH WIRES?” one asked another. “WHOS GOT SUM NETZ?”
No. Just no . Nightmare Moon was an ancient alicorn, ruler of the night, rightful ruler of Equestria, with the power to move mountains or smite cities. She couldn’t — wouldn’t — be laid low by an old goat and a few smelly hobgoblins. With an un-ladylike grunt she flung her powerful wings open, knocking troggles aside.
“Don’t let her get up!” yelled Grogar, but it was too late. Troggles tried to grapple with her, but a convulsive lurch propelled her upward, onto her feet. She tossed her head, breaking loose the grasping hands of the troggles, and waved her horn like a sword to make them back off. She bucked, knocking one through the air and into the moat.
Having beaten the soldiers back, if only for a moment, she reared and leapt over their heads, her abused wings once again fluttering for whatever lift they were worth. “FUXXORS!!” one troggle yelled. She cleared their heads, and her hooves crashed down on the dusty field for an unsteady landing, and then she attempted to break into a gallop.
SPLOOSH!! A jet of water knocked her off her feet, just like the one that earlier had knocked her out of the sky above the moat. The river monster dipped its head to gulp water for another shot. Magic flashed as troggles fired their staff-weapons, and one scored a hit on her belly — a painful, numbing shock that jolted a startled cry from her throat.
The troggle soldiers charged after her, but Nightmare Moon summoned up a last, desperate reserve of strength — perhaps from the moonlight spilling down from the sky, or perhaps from the natural endurance of an earth pony. Her hooves kicked up dust as she got them under her again and ran. She left the troggles behind and scrambled across the open field surrounding the castle, to the shelter of the buildings in the surrounding city, and ducked between two warehouses.
Scowling (an almost permanent expression for him at the best of times), Grogar watched Nightmare Moon disappear into the shadows of the city. “What does it take to stop this one?” he muttered. He looked around. “Bray? There you are. Signal the city gates, make sure they’re closed! Raise the alarm and get patrols out on the streets to track her down!” Bray saluted and went to direct the troops.
When Bray returned to the castle a short time later, he expected to find the old warlock infuriated. Grogar was easily infuriated. As dawn began to break over Tambelon, however, he seemed almost jovial. He commented, “It’s been an exciting night, eh? Invigorating!”
Bray bit his lip. “I guess so. But, uh, Master… We can’t find the black pony.”
“Yes, shame about that. But we still have her twin — who I look forward to interrogating closely about all of this. She’s been keeping secrets. And if this Nightmare Moon is foolish enough to return, we’ll be ready. She took us completely by surprise this time, and we still almost caught her. We’ll set up more lanterns at night and issue more nets and stunners to the troops.” Grogar glanced at the brightening sky. “Soon it’ll be light enough for stratodon patrols to join the search.”
Keeping in the shadows, constantly on the move, Nightmare Moon continued putting distance between herself and Castle Tambelon, where she assumed Grogar remained. In a dark alley she tried to cast the tiniest of spells, only for her magic to whisk away toward the castle. “I don’t believe it!” she groaned. “How far away from that accursed bell must I get?” Meanwhile, a tower bell had been ringing for several minutes, and more and more troggles poured into the streets. Watching them scurry to and fro, she chose her moment with care and gambled on a dash across a wide street, then worked her way through the shadows of the marketplace, then to a last block of abandoned houses in the corner of the walled city. This was as far as she could get from the castle. She cast her magic, levitating a cobblestone — and, to her immense relief, the spell held!
She wasted no time healing her own burns, bruises and scorched wings. Then, teleportation, and she was outside the city walls. Although exhausted and demoralized by failure, she was, for the moment, safe.
For a time troggles searched inside Tambelon’s walls for Nightmare Moon, until Grogar sniffed about and concluded she’d escaped from the city. Patrols were sent outside the city to search the surrounding countryside. Troggles riding stratodons flew overhead.
After several hours a stratodon returned, and the rider reported he’d sighted Nightmare Moon winging her way toward Dankendreer. When Bray conveyed this news to Grogar, the warlock snorted his contempt. “Dankendreer, eh? She’ll find no aid there. I’ve got to admit, I expected more of a fight from her. This younger generation just doesn’t have the same grit. Not like during the Wizard Wars. Did I ever tell you about the time when I was at war with both Queen Nastinka and Malaclypse the Younger? My forces outnumbered, it was a desperate situation. Did I go running off to drown my sorrows in Dankendreer? I did not! I staged a raid on the queen’s field headquarters, got the drop on her, and forced her to change sides. Heh, not that she needed a lot of forcing. Ah, what a stinka she was! What times those were!”
Bray fidgeted, shuffling his hooves. “I need to, uh, go and check on the other stratodon patrols,” he said.
“Hm? Oh, yes… Carry on!” He watched Bray hurry away, then Grogar sat down for a few moments, lost in thought — or memories of his glory days. He sighed and muttered, “Sometimes I get tired of being so old.”
During the days that followed Grogar was not seen much around the castle. He spent much of his time in the dungeon, though what — if anything — he learned from the prisoner, he kept to himself. Whatever transpired in the dungeon, it did not please him, and his servants stepped lightly in his sour presence.
On the evening of the third day, just entering into twilight, a black bank of clouds appeared on the western horizon. In Tambelon lookouts rang the bells to signal a storm warning. Troggle soldiers and pony slaves hurried about, getting the stratodons secured in their stables, closing window shutters and taking down flags and lighting storm lanterns.
They were hard pressed for time as the storm front raced toward them like someone pulling a dark blanket over the sky. A gust of hot, dry wind whipped through the city streets, sending tumbleweeds and scraps of paper dancing and whirling about. In a heartbeat the wind reversed, and a blast of cold air picked up clouds of dust, stinging the eyes of those who were still scurrying for shelter. Two more such reversals followed, and a scattering of hailstones fell across the city. Of a most peculiar sort these were: the size and shape of button squash with a glossy outer skin of ice surrounding frothy white innards. Bashing on rooftops, they sounded a chaotic drumbeat.
After a minute the hail ceased. The wind died and an eerie calm settled over the city, but outside was utter darkness. Windows were like black holes looking out into a terrible void. Then, slowly, a deep rumble began to build. Some might have compared it with the sound of an avalanche. Some, if they had ever encountered such a thing, might have compared it with a diesel locomotive. Most had never heard anything like it, but they huddled together in fear as their homes, their shops and their barracks all began to vibrate and shudder.
Few of the survivors could ever adequately describe the chaos and destruction that unfolded next. The timber stockade surrounding the city peeled away in seconds. Wooden buildings were blown apart as though built from match sticks. Mighty trees were broken and uprooted. The wind stripped paving from the streets and turned thousands of cobblestones into lethal projectiles. Troggles and ponies were hurled through the air likewise. There was no safe place above ground.
The thick stone walls of Castle Tambelon, designed to withstand the pounding of siege engines, cracked, bowed inward and began to crumble.
Bray had been in the camp headquarters — the stone building near the barracks — when the tornado struck, and he lost consciousness when the building collapsed. When he came to his senses, he found himself laying on his back, bruised and cut, in a tangle of splintered timbers. The deep roar of the storm surrounded him, and yet the wind had gone almost calm. Unable to move, he looked upward to the sky and an unforgettable sight. He stared into an enormous, rotating tunnel of clouds, eerily illuminated by constant, flickering discharges of lightning. Among the swirling debris he thought he saw a black shape, a winged shape, high up in the clouds, darting through the lightning and zipping around and around the funnel wall. He could do nothing but stare in awe as the eye of the storm shifted above him — until the second wall of the funnel hit, and he was lost in darkness and chaos once again.
After the storm passed, battered survivors began to climb out of the ruins only to find themselves in an utterly unfamiliar landscape. Few structures remained in the city and few landmarks with which to orient themselves; streets were buried under debris or completely stripped away by the wind. Moans and cries for help rose up from the piles of rubble. The relatively uninjured began digging to rescue their friends and comrades, but they were hampered by darkness, as few lanterns remained un-smashed, and all the wood in the city was wet, making even crude torches difficult to light.
Around the castle the moat’s water was mostly gone, leaving it a muddy trench clogged with broken timbers, smashed carts and barrels and other debris. Of the river monster naught was seen. Castle Tambelon, at least, had not been razed to the ground, but it was a shambles with breached walls, fallen towers and no remaining roof.
Grogar emerged completely unharmed from the castle keep. He’d been in the dungeon, safely underground, behind the iron door (which he’d learned not to leave swinging open). He even had a working lantern. He made his way to the castle wall, stood on a pile of rubble in one of the breaches, and stared out into the destruction. In the light of his lantern and the scattered glows of other lanterns and improvised torches around the city he began to comprehend the scale of the disaster. After pondering for a few minutes he called out, “Bray! Bray, are you out there? Answer me!”
Bray didn’t answer.
Grogar grunted and cast a spell. A bell jangled, his horns glowed and his voice was amplified like a megaphone. He yelled out to the city around him: “TO ARMS! TO ARMS! WE ARE UNDER ATTACK. ALL SOLDIERS WHO CAN CARRY A WEAPON, RALLY AROUND THE CASTLE KEEP!”
How many troggles simply ignored his call, he never knew. Over the minutes that followed a few began to trickle in from the city, and more emerged from the castle itself — they having weathered the disaster better than those outside its walls. Some were battered, some were unarmed or carrying only crude clubs pulled from the storm debris, and all were more-or-less shell shocked, but Grogar once again had some troops to command.
Meanwhile, however, clouds were closing in. They roiled, fused together and descended upon the city. If conditions had been hard for the survivors before, a dense, cold fog only made their situation more dire. Even those who had lanterns or sputtering torches now could barely see more than arm’s length. Navigating through the fields of rubble became impossible. Only the area around the castle courtyard and keep remained clear, but it was surrounded by a dense fog bank. Grogar and his handful of troops were cut off from any further aid.
“WTF HAPPEN??/” one of the troggles demanded.
Grogar answered, “This is no accident. This is the work of those wretched winged ponies — or one very powerful winged pony.” Then he yelled upward at the clouds, “SHOW YOURSELF! I KNOW YOU’RE UP THERE!”
Grogar and his troops were silent, scanning the clouds with their eyes, the troggles clutching their weapons tightly, waiting for any response. Just when the troggles were starting to shuffle and mutter impatiently, a loud, feminine voice filtered down from the sky to echo among the ruins: “CRY HAVOC, AND LET SLIP THE FOG OF WAR!”
Grogar yelled back, “NIGHTMARE MOON!”
A compact, gloomy cloud pushed its way past the fog, surfing over the lighter fog bank. Then the black form of Nightmare Moon popped into view over the edge and peered down at the old ram. She lounged on the cloud, grinning maniacally, and she addressed him, “You call and Nightmare Moon comes — and sorrow with her, Grogar! Sorrow and endless night!”
Grogar glared back and retorted, “You lunatic! What are you doing? What do you think all this destruction changes? I still have my prisoner locked in my dungeon. My soldiers still stand beside me, and you still don’t dare cast a single spell against me. You’ve accomplished nothing!”
“Oh? Let’s see what Sparky has to say about that!”
Grogar blinked. “Sparky?”
In answer, Nightmare Moon reared and then stamped on the cloud, and lightning bolts exploded underneath it. In blind panic the troggles scattered and scrambled for any shelter they could find. Nightmare Moon nickered with glee. “Neeheehee!! It’s been so long since I’ve done anything like this. I didn’t know how much I missed it.”
Then she yelled, “ONWARD, MY DARK STEED! BORN OF THUNDERS AND HURRICANES, TYPHOONS AND TEMPESTS! STAMP YOUR LIGHTNING HOOVES AND DESTROY THEM ALL!” Flapping slowly she propelled Sparky around the keep, sending down fusillades of lightning bolts. Again and again, lightning flared, and wet stones exploded where the bolts hit. After she’d made the full circuit, she stopped to assess the damage. The courtyard was littered with weapons dropped in panic. Fires burned where lanterns had been dropped, or where lightning had struck something inflammable. Several troggles, unlucky or simply not quick enough in reaching shelter, smoldered where they lay. Nothing moved.
Moonlight spilled down into the courtyard and softly illuminated the fog bank surrounding it. Satisfied with her work, Nightmare Moon hopped off Sparky and glided to the ground. She called out in a disingenuous sing-song, “Gro-gaaar! Where have you scurried off too, I wonder?” Not waiting for a reply, she strolled toward the castle keep and her true objective.
Perhaps she would have heard some warning if her ears weren’t numb from her own lightning barrage. Or perhaps not. As it happened, a magenta bolt of magic impacted at her feet, landing so close that she felt the stunning jolt up through her legs. She shrieked and reared reflexively, then dodged as a moonlight shadow flashed across her, and she caught a glimpse of wings much bigger than her own swooping overhead. She was under attack from above!
She leapt into the air at once and flapped madly toward her storm cloud. Another magic bolt sizzled and grazed her shoulder, the shock making her miss a wingbeat and nearly tumble — but with a strained grunt she recovered and managed to stay airborne. A third bolt missed just as she dove into the concealment of her cloud.
Stung and angry — to some extent at her own carelessness — Nightmare Moon pushed her way toward the top of the cloud, like climbing through a giant cotton ball. She was sure the tornado had utterly destroyed the stratodon stables, but she hadn’t considered a patrol returning to the city so soon after the storm. Those attacks in rapid succession… There had to be multiple stratodon riders trained to fly and attack in formation. They were good shots too, by troggle standards. It made sense that only their elite (or “L33T”, in troll speak) would become flyers.
She risked poking her head up out of the cloud. Three great flying reptiles, leathery wings stretched wide, soared and circled above. Nightmare ground her teeth. She didn’t dare cast any spell while Grogar was still on the loose nearby. To attack them without magic, though… She was a strong flyer, but they had both altitude and numbers on their side.
One of the riders spotted her, and the stratodon formation swooped into another attack run. Nightmare Moon immediately dove into the cloud and was concealed from view when the magic bolts came sizzling down through it.
A minute later she popped up again. This time the stratodon riders were onto her, and they spotted her and swooped to attack immediately. Curiously, she whistled out a loud, almost ear-splitting whistle before she ducked back into the cloud. Neither the stratodons or their riders were phased in the least by it, and three magic blasts again sizzled through the cloud very near the spot where she’d ducked out of sight.
A minute later she popped up yet again, and once more the stratodons banked and swooped down to attack. This time Nightmare Moon did not duck out of sight, though. She was staring straight at her attackers with a wicked grin. The lead troggle gritted his teeth and aimed his staff weapon, but just as he was about to fire he heard a scream from behind. Twisting in his saddle, he saw a stratodon had veered away from formation. Above was the silhouette of another winged shape with a squirming mass dangling below it — and the sound of panicked, uncontrolled giggling.
The rider pulled up from his attack run, trying to break away, but he could not escape. He caught a glimpse of another black shape in the instant before it slammed into him, then he was yanked off his mount. A strong, serpent-like tail coiled around his body, and nimble limbs with long fingers and toes grasped and tickled him mercilessly. In moments he was gasping for breath between bouts of giggling and trollish cursing.
From her perch upon Sparky, Nightmare Moon watched the riderless stratodons disperse. Her night-gaunts too were flying away, each clutching a helpless troggle, bearing them off to wherever night-gaunts took their victims.
Truly, it was better not to know.
Nightmare Moon returned her attention to the courtyard and made sure no troggles had emerged from hiding or taken up arms while she was harassed from above. It seemed, though, that all resistance had been broken, and she once again hopped down from her cloud and approached the castle keep.
Stepping over fallen troggles, picking her way through the debris from the storm, she made her way inside and through the halls to the dungeon. Daintily she stepped down the stone stairwell to the iron door: tightly shut and locked, this time.
She raised a silver-clad hoof and thumped on the door. She waved her horn in front of the door and could feel the enchantments guarding it. Then she cast a cantrip, the most minor of spells: Firefly Lights. The warm glow of swirling lights appeared but then sputtered and died an instant later. The magical energy swirled indecisively, then began funneling into the door’s keyhole. She narrowed her eyes at it and muttered, “Oh, he is most surely in there.”
She turned around, facing away from the door, then grunted as she bucked with the full force of both her hind legs. Her silver sabotons slammed the iron door with such force that the hinges shattered and the slab of iron was buckled almost in half and catapulted into the dungeon darkness.
She turned around to peer into the doorway. A lantern light glowed somewhere deep within. She leaned forward and called into the dungeon, “So, here we are again, Grogar! It would have been better if you’d let me have what I wanted when I came here before.”
From his place of concealment Grogar’s gravelly voice echoed back, “You’ll fare no better this time.”
“I beg to differ. Your army is routed. It’s just you and me now, and I have no reason to leave without my prize.”
He retorted, “You fool! You can’t bring a storm cloud into this tunnel. If you come in after me, you’ll still face a magical duel that you can’t win. And I have your prize, to do with as I will. I can kill her in a heartbeat!”
Nightmare chuckled softly. “I do not think you will. If I cannot claim her, then all my plans are for naught — and I will be forced to find other pastimes to occupy my nights. I think that you, Grogar, would then become the subject of my new hobby.” She paused for a moment to let that sink in, then she added, “It does not have to be that way. Give me what I want, and I will take my leave. Then you can lick your wounds and begin rebuilding your city. Accept this offer, Grogar! It’s the best you can hope for.”
She waited for an answer. The moments of silence were marked only by dripping of water through the ruins and the crackle of fires above. At last the answer came, and Grogar’s voice had never sounded older or more tired: “So be it, you demented nag. I surrender.”
“Bring out your prisoner!” she demanded.
“Patience! She can’t stand; I’ll have to carry her.”
She waited, hearing the sound of keys clattering and a gate swinging open. Then the red glow of Grogar’s magic became visible. His ram horns were surrounded by aura, as was the black mass that floated in front of him. Despite herself, Nightmare Moon gasped and winced when she caught a look at it. This was not missed by Grogar, who sneered in dark amusement at her discomfort. Then he suggested, “I’ll take her out to the courtyard for you.”
“By all means,” she allowed, and waved him forward with a black wing. She followed, keeping a close eye on him.
They went through the keep and out into the moonlight, and Grogar laid the nemesis on the ground, where it moaned and shifted a little. Nightmare Moon’s face was stone as her eyes scanned the other alicorn, evaluating its varied and gruesome injuries. Coldly she spoke: “The hospitality you show your guests leaves much to be desired, Grogar.”
“Ah well, she was a stubborn one,” he commented casually. “Uncooperative, you know. That was her decision, not mine.”
“I cannot heal her here, not in your presence. If you would place her upon my back, I’ll carry her away and trouble you no more.”
Grogar nodded, and one of the bells on his collar jangled. His horns lit up with magic again. Nightmare Moon’s magical sense warned her a moment too late that the spell he was casting wasn’t levitation. She’d barely begun to move when a heavy iron cage slammed down over her. “NO!” she cried out while Grogar burst into gales of laughter.
Nightmare butted the bars of the cage with her helmet, then ranted, “TREACHEROUS SWINE! BACKBITER!” Grogar only laughed harder.
She glared at him until his mirth subsided. Then he addressed her, “Princess, you’re far too trusting. Now you and your comrade here will provide me with the magical power to rebuild my city, which you’ve so senselessly ruined.”
“You’ll rue this, Grogar,” she growled back at him.
Smiling broadly, he walked up to her cage, the better to gloat. “Your threats mean nothing. Ah, the irony! Your fatal flaw, Nightmare Moon, is that you’re too good.”
She backed away from the bars. “Am I?”
He reared up on his hind legs to lift his face up closer to Nightmare Moon’s level, resting his front hooves on a cross-bar. “Oh, yes! I know your kind well. Beneath your armor, inside that black hide, behind those dragon eyes, past all the bluster and threats, there still beats the soft heart of a cute little pony: idealistic, weak and naive. A little pony who wants to do the right thing. A little pony who wants to be loved. Those ridiculous sentiments will always place you under the hoof of someone like me.”
At that moment she lowered her head and lunged. Grogar jumped back, but it was not enough to save him. So great was the force of her leap that her helmeted head bent the bars of the cage two full hoof widths, and the tip of her long, slender horn came to rest in his black, withered heart.
For a moment that seemed frozen in time, he hung impaled upon the horn, eyes wide, unbelieving. He gasped one word: “How…?” Then he slumped and slid backward off her horn and collapsed. Blood gushed onto the muddy ground.
Nightmare Moon raised her head, the gore-slicked tip of her horn held high. She looked down at Grogar, whose life was already fading from his eyes, and she answered, “I guess I’m just that good.” A midnight blue aura flared to life around her horn, burning away the blood. The aura spread to the iron cage and peeled it away from her, wadded it up like a scrap of paper and tossed it aside.
She turned away from Grogar, sparing him no further thought. She moved to the other black alicorn, her nemesis, and lowered her horn to it. The midnight blue aura surrounded it with healing force. The bruises… cuts… burns… broken bones… these were mended in a matter of seconds.
The missing body parts took longer to regenerate.
Author's Note
I had a blast writing this. I hope you guys like it too!
Next we'll get into the end game.
my evil twin foul weather friend always wants to start when I want to begin
Despite the severity of the wounds, Nightmare Moon’s healing power was great, and soon the Nemesis was whole. She stirred like one waking from a deep sleep. Standing over her was Nightmare Moon: armored, her mane and tail billowing like clouds of stars, triumphant in battle. The Nemesis huddled, naked, her soft strands of midnight blue hair spilling across the ground, her hip unmarked by any sigil. The same size they were, and yet one was ancient and the other new.
The Nemesis looked up and said, softly, “I thought you came to destroy me.”
Nightmare answered, “As Lord Morpheus explained the matter, either you will destroy me or I will destroy you. It’s our destiny. I do not intend to be the one destroyed. However…” She paused and lowered her head, and spoke more softly. “I prefer to make my own destiny.”
The Nemesis sat upright, and her puzzlement was tinted with a wee ray of hope as she asked, “You don’t think we have to fight?”
“Perhaps not. Morpheus said you wished to take my identity, to replace me. Is that true?”
The Nemesis glanced down at the ground. “I guess… that’s what I’m supposed to do.”
Nightmare quirked an eyebrow, surprised by the timidity of this creature. It was not at all what she’d expected. However, she reflected upon how she’d felt after her own death, when she’d been brought to the Castle of the Dream King — confused and helpless. No doubt the Nemesis was equally disoriented after being tortured by Grogar and then, against all expectation, healed. At this moment in time she was vulnerable.
Nightmare Moon chose her words carefully, and what she said was: “I would be pleased if you take my place here in the Dreaming and fill the role that Lord Morpheus prescribed to me — while I return to the land of the living, to Equestria.”
The Nemesis cast a startled glance upward. “Can you do that?”
Nightmare smiled, though it was no smile of delight, but perhaps more like the grimace of a stage magician about to spring a trick. She explained, “I know secrets even Morpheus does not, or else has forgotten long ago. I know that only a trinity can walk the Moon’s Path: only three who are one. You and I together make two. We’ll need one more of us for this plan to work.” She lowered her muzzle close to her duplicate’s ear and spoke as though imparting a secret. “We’ll need to collect Princess Luna.”
Flying wing-to-wing, Nightmare Moon and her Nemesis followed a trail, a scent. It was one that Nightmare had followed before with disastrous results. This time, she vowed, things would be different.
Their flight took them across the Sea of Green, above its skerries, back toward the mainland of The Dreaming wherein Nightmare Moon’s castle was to be found. There was little conversation as they travelled. Neither of them were talkative by nature, although the novelty of their situation did lead to a few questions.
As they rested briefly upon a rocky island, Nightmare Moon asked, “So, Nemesis… Is that your name? The ponies of Frivoli called you Hero.”
“I don’t have a name. Nopony has given me one. If I take your place, I guess I’ll be Nightmare Moon.”
“Do you share all of my knowledge? My past, my memories?”
The Nemesis looked confused, then opened her mouth to speak, then paused again. Finally she answered, “I don’t know.”
Nightmare narrowed her eyes with suspicion. “You don’t know? How can you not know?”
“I… I think I know how to do all the things you can do. But you’re nothing but a dream of a memory now, and I’m less than that — a concept, barely an idea. I don’t think I’m that well defined.”
Nightmare Moon blinked and swished her tail while she considered the implications. After some moments she shook her head. “It does not make sense. Tell me what you know of my past! Can you name my mother?”
The Nemesis cocked its head curiously. “That would be Luna, would it not?”
Nightmare scoffed. “Neigh, you cretin! I was a part of Luna, not her offspring any more than her hooves or her wings are. I mean to ask you, where did Luna and her sister come from? Search your memories and answer me if you know!”
The Nemesis closed her eyes for a few moments, then answered, “At the beginning of time we were born to the great alicorn Faust, who shaped our world and appointed us to watch over it as benevolent deities. When the time was right, we revealed ourselves to mortals, the better to guide them.”
Nightmare gawped for a moment, then broke out in a loud, whinnying laugh. “Neeheeheehee! Your mind is addled with delusions of grandeur. Tell me another one!”
The Nemesis obliged, saying, “Celestia and I were part of an ancient race of alicorns who were hunted to near extinction. The last of our kind, we hid in the wilderness until we found the Tree of Harmony, and at its bidding we went to the pony lands with teachings of love and tolerance. Our followers grew until we were offered queenly crowns.”
Nightmare paced, circling around her Nemesis. “Go on…” she prompted.
The Nemesis said, “Celestia and I were born as humble earth ponies during the Reign of Discord. We scrabbled to survive in a landscape that was impossible to understand or predict. Then a vision led us to the Elements of Harmony. When we defeated Discord with them, we ascended to a higher plane of existence and became alicorns.”
Nightmare Moon snorted. “You really have no idea, do you? You’re just making up these stories.”
The Nemesis looked at her. “Then let’s hear yours?”
Nightmare Moon began to say, “My mother was…” She stopped and frowned. “No. I think I’ll keep my identity to myself. You have no past, and I am loath to give you mine.” After a moment she added, “You are hardly the creature I expected. You’re like a foal in the woods. It is fortunate for you that I’ve decided not to pursue the doom Morpheus pronounced.” At least for now, she added inwardly. Such prophecy was not something to easily dismiss.
The Nemesis frowned and look down at her feet, but said nothing.
Nightmare spread her wings. “We have rested enough. Our quarry awaits.”
“Are you sure you can find her?”
She tossed her head. “Easily! Even if I could not sense her presence in The Dreaming, it would matter not. I know her habits as I know my own. I think we should begin our search with the Garden of the Moon.”
The night was mostly clear, with only a few streaks of clouds drifting past while the waxing gibbous moon searched the sky for its missing third. Warm air buzzed with the trills of cicadas punctuated by the recurring call of a nighthawk. From time to time a “whoop” sounded when the nighthawk dived after flying insects, the spooky sound made by air rushing through its wings. Far below, silvery light scattered over leaves like water in a fountain, and in the shadows fireflies dipped and flashed yellow, and glow worms slowly pulsed in blue. A path lined with flickering candles wound through the grove, and by the side of the path was a marble bench with a velvet cushion. Upon this bench, sprawled across the cushion, rested a pony of midnight blue with a crescent moon marked upon her hip.
Princess Luna lazily reached down with a bare hoof. A beautiful sphinx moth came to rest upon her hoof for a few moments, until it flitted over to sip nectar from the night-blooming buttercups that grew nearby. Luna sighed. “I should remake this place in the waking world,” she mused. “I’ll make it as lovely as it was before. But where, I wonder?”
She perked up her ears. Sharp, exquisitely high-pitched squeaks came from above. Several bats fluttered down, and they flapped around her, squeaking excitedly. Luna’s eyes darted as she tried to track their erratic movements. “What? What? Slow down! You want me to follow? To show me something?” She hopped off the bench and quickly slipped on her silver shoes, and then chased after the bats.
It was only a short distance to the pond. Luna looked around, from the willow trees drooping over the water to the rounded white stones around the pool’s edge. Nothing seemed out of place. “Is it something in the water?” she wondered. She stepped closer and peered into the pool.
There is an old legend, carried down from the tribal times, that is told among the earth ponies. They say that whenever a unicorn sees its own reflection it becomes captivated by its self-perceived beauty and thus is trapped until someone or something interposes and breaks the line of sight. This lore is considered a disreputable story in modern times, prejudicial and obviously untrue. Perhaps it was meant as an allegory about unicorn vanity, or perhaps it gained currency because only wealthy unicorns could afford mirrors in that primitive age.
When Luna looked down into the pond and saw herself, she smiled softly, and her tail swished contentedly, and she gazed and mused. Perhaps a little bit of her ancient unicorn heritage stirred and whispered to her, “Of all the lovely things in this garden, surely you are its centerpiece.” Perhaps.
After some moments, however, she began to perceive that something about her reflection wasn’t quite right. Her fur and her mane weren’t really that dark, were they? Her eyes… Did they really look like that?
She piffled at herself. Silly, silly! This is a dream, don’t forget. My dream image is whatever I wish for it to be.
Yet, still her dream reflection refused to cooperate and stuck its tongue out at her.
Luna scowled and scuffed the ground with a hoof. “Don’t mock me!”
The surface of the pond bowed upward, water displaced by something rising underneath. Luna took a half-step back but could not turn her eyes away. Then the mirror was broken as water splashed freely and a black mass erupted. Luna was bowled, knocked backward onto her reflexively-outspread wings, while a larger, darker pony — dripping and coughing up water — came to rest on top of her. “WHAT? WHO?” Luna managed to squawk as unwelcome rivulets of runoff water poured onto her body.
The black pony coughed and sputtered, and then stammered, “Oops! uh… Hi?”
Luna growled and bunched up her hind legs, then shoved the stranger off her. In an instant Luna flipped upright to face the larger pony and crouched with her wings spread in a threatening display. Her face hardened with recognition. “YOU! Nightmare Moon?” Even as she spoke the name it twisted into a question. This apparition lay on the ground, sopping wet, mane and tail plastered to its body, head drooped and ears lowered, with no armor and — most inexplicably — no cutie mark on its hip.
And yet… It was recognizably her. Her size, color, wings and horn, and most of all those cyan-teal dragon eyes, they were all those of Luna’s past alter-ego that had been the author of so much grief. For a moment Luna was befuddled.
During that moment the other pony also got upright on its feet, although less gracefully. “No, no!” it objected. “I’m not Nightmare Moon! I mean, not yet… I mean, not the one you knew — not the one you were.”
Luna’s horn had already begun glowing as she prepared a magical attack, but she held back. Glaring at the mystery pony, she demanded: “Explain! If this is a trick, you’ll soon regret it.”
The black alicorn bowed submissively and said, “I… I was created by a magical accident here in the world of dreams. I’m supposed to be, uh, Nightmare Moon’s replacement here in The Dreaming. When ponies dream about her, I’ll be here to fill that role.”
Luna’s magic dissipated, but she still glared with deep suspicion. “You’re no mere fleeting dream image?”
“I hope not. I want to be more than that. Please help! We have a plan, but we need you to make it work.”
Luna recoiled. “Help you? Why should I help you? I’d rather no pony ever dream about Nightmare Moon again. If I could erase all memory of that hateful name, I would.” She waggled a hoof, trying to wave the other alicorn away. “Begone! Haunt my dreams no more!”
The stranger looked stunned. “But why? Nightmare Moon is your creation. Is she not a part of you?”
Luna spread her wings and fairly yelled, “Not anymore!”
“Oh… Now you hurt my feelings,” came the reply — from behind Luna. She whirled about, just in time to catch a face full of midnight blue aura, sparkling with stars and with stardust, the dream sand of Lord Morpheus. She reared on her hind legs and pawed at her muzzle, but the evil mixture had already infiltrated into her mouth and nostrils. She gagged and heaved, wings fluttering helplessly.
To her Nemesis, Nightmare Moon said, “Good work! You did a fine job of distracting her. I doubt whether she would have known if buffalo were stampeding behind her.”
The Nemesis gawped, eyes locked onto the struggling, flailing form of Princess Luna. “What did you do to her? It wasn’t supposed to be like this. It’s hurting her, do something!”
Nightmare turned her gaze to Luna and coolly observed, “Her resistance to The Blessing is strong. A second dose may be needed.” She floated the bag of dream sand out of her starry mane, then poured some of the glittery grains from the bag into it.
“Blessing?” The Nemesis glanced at it for a moment, not understanding, but her attention was drawn back to the still-struggling Princess Luna. “This is not right! You’ve got to stop it.”
“Wrong!” Nightmare Moon retorted, as the second mass of blue aura latched onto the Nemesis’s muzzle, and in seconds she’d joined Luna: gagging, heaving, flailing helplessly in panic upon the ground.
“And that’s what I should have done with you to begin with, wretched creature!” Nightmare Moon laughed while both her alternates were gradually overcome. They weakened and their struggles ceased, but their eyes were open and they breathed heavily. Nightmare sniffed at them, nudged them with a silver-clad hoof. “With both of you under my thrall, the time has come.”
In a fine bedroom, in a fine manor house, in the fine city of Canterlot, a pony tossed and turned. Sweat-stained sheets tangled around his flailing limbs. He mumbled and whined. Then, suddenly, he started awake, flung away the sheets and sat upright in his bed. His eyes, wide open, glowed with an inner light through their reptilian, slit-pupil irises, and Spell Nexus yelled out loud: “THE TIME HAS COME!”
Author's Note
Thanks to PurpleMango1 for letting me use her image in this chapter!
Original here: Moon Garden by PurpleMango1
25 - The Gathering Darkness
Summer days were long working days for Princess Celestia. It was not onerous work, of course. Long experience had taught Celestia the art of delegation, and made her a fine judge of character as well. Even so, she lived at the apex of the Equestrian social pyramid. There was always guidance for her to give and disputes for her to resolve. Everyone wanted her ear, or to be seen with her.
As her work day neared its end, who could blame her if she didn’t lift her feet quite as high, or if she climbed one of Canterlot Castle’s many stairwells more slowly? If she felt a bit tired, it was an honest tiredness leavened with satisfaction of a job well done. And in a few moments she would see her sister again, as she did now at the end of every day. For a thousand years she’d been denied that simple wish, and she intended to never take it for granted.
She emerged onto a balcony looking out over the city of Canterlot, spread out on a shelf below the castle, halfway down the side of the mountain (or halfway up, depending on your viewpoint). What a view! She never tired of it. The plateau’s origin was natural, but it had been heavily re-sculpted to claim every possible meter of flat space. Some buildings even hung over the cliff’s edges where the rocky slopes plunged to the valley floor.
Celestia found her familiar cushion and sat to await her sister. Aside from a few special occasions, such as the Summer Sun Celebration, raising and lowering the sun was a semi-private ceremony. Anybody in the city could look up toward the castle and see the balcony, and see Celestia upon it, but details were obscured by distance, conversations unheard.
For a thousand years she’d been in the habit of inviting a few other ponies to join her during this daily task. It might be an attendant, or a minister, or a diplomat, or even, in recent years, her favorite student. Since Luna had returned, she rarely invited others.
Celestia looked down at one of the clock towers in the city. Contrary to what some ponies believed, she did not have a perfect inner sense of time. Even magic spells were notoriously poor at measuring the passage of time. The invention of accurate mechanical clocks had been both a boon and an annoyance to Celestia. They helped her keep the cycle of day and night regular, which she had always aspired to do, but she sometimes felt like a slave to the clock. She supposed she wasn’t the only pony to have that feeling, at least.
She ruffled her wings uneasily. It was almost time for sunset, but Luna was not here. A tiny seed of worry began to grow.
A sound of hooves clip-clopping up the stairs made her smile — but only for a moment. The cadence didn’t sound right. The pony that emerged onto the balcony was most certainly not Luna. A unicorn emerged — one of the castle staff — and bowed, and said, “Your royal highness, I regret to inform you that your sister is, apparently, sleeping in late.”
Celestia concealed her disappointment, and she concealed the seedling of worry that sprouted a few more leaves when watered with this news. “If only I could sleep in late some morning, eh?” she joked, prompting a polite chuckle from the servant. “When my sister wakes, inform her that I have once again performed her duty.”
“Very good, Ma’am!” said the servant, and he retreated.
Celestia sighed and cast her spell, but the ritual brought her no comfort.
A short while later, as Celestia walked the castle halls, a dark cloud hovered over her head — at least in her imagination, though no other pony could see it. Lowering the sun had been no problem, but the full moon was uncooperative, perhaps as discomforted as herself by Luna’s absence.
Her path led to the royal suites and brought her to the entrance of Princess Luna’s chambers. The small crowd of ponies milling outside the doors sent a pang through Celestia’s heart, and her worry began to bloom. Nonetheless, she maintained an even strain as she inquired, “Is something amiss?”
The servants bowed, and it was a unicorn Celestia recognized as Luna’s staff captain who answered, “Ma’am, we have been unable to rouse Princess Luna from her slumber.”
Celestia narrowed her eyes slightly and asked, “Have any of you actually tried to wake her?”
The other ponies shuffled their hooves and glanced at one another.
Celestia sighed. “I see. Well, step aside! I’m not afraid to wake up my sister.” With that she magically swung open the double doors, and she entered into Luna’s private quarters. Making her way to the bedchamber, she found Luna curled up in her large, round bed, under the covers, clutching a pillow.
Celestia paused, just for a moment, gazing at what should have been a peaceful and adorable scene. Yet, Luna was clutching that pillow a bit too hard. Her face was troubled. Her eyes… They were closed, but behind her eyelids they twitched anxiously. Celestia stretched out her neck, moved her muzzle close by Luna’s ear, and spoke, “Luna? Luna, it’s time to get up!”
When that got no response, Celestia nudged Luna’s shoulder, but again there was no response.
Celestia’s ears drooped. Her voice was strained as she said, more loudly, “Luna, please wake up! You’re scaring our little ponies.” She used her magic to pull the sheets back, uncovering Luna. Celestia bit her lip, then her horn glowed again. “I didn’t want to do this.” The golden glow coalesced in the space above Luna, then a bucket popped into existence. It tipped splashing cold water onto the sleeping princess. Luna tensed and groaned, and rolled over, and her eyes opened, but only for a moment, and then she slumped comatose once more.
The bucket fell aside, forgotten. Celestia gasped and stepped back, eyes locked onto Luna’s face. She’d only caught a glimpse, but there was no mistaking the luminous, reptilian eye of Nightmare Moon. Heart pounding, she turned and rushed out of her sister’s suite, to the doorway where her staff ponies were still waiting. To the staff captain she ordered, “Fetch the royal physicians!”
He blinked. “Ma’am?”
“All of them. NOW! ” she snapped.
In truth it didn’t take long, although every minute seemed like an eternity to Celestia. The physicians, when they arrived, examined Luna and conferred briefly.
“I’ve never seen a clearer textbook case of paraneoplastic syndrome!” declared Dr. Caduceus. However, he was immediately shouted down by the other doctors. Dr. Caduceus was notorious for ascribing every infirmity to paraneoplastic syndrome.
When they finished their deliberations, Dr. Healing Balm reported to Celestia, “Princess Luna doesn’t appear to be injured or ill. This is no medical condition. Some sort of occult force is holding her in sleep.”
“Of course…” Celestia felt slightly foolish, but she’d been near panic when she called up the doctors. She turned to one of her attendants and ordered, “Send a message to the Royal Academy of Arcana! I require the services of Equestria’s top experts in sleep and dream magic.”
The pony froze. “ummm… Ma’am?”
“What is it, my little pony?”
“Wouldn’t the top expert in magic be yourself, Princess?”
Celestia sighed and said, “It’s flattering when ponies assume I’m expert in all schools of magic and that I know all spells by heart. But I’m not, and I don’t. Will you please deliver my missive?”
“Of course! Sorry, Ma’am!” The pony scurried away.
As the sun settled near the horizon to the west of Ponyville, Twilight Sparkle plodded home, happy but tired. With her library closed for the weekend, in the afternoon she’d gone to the park to do some light reading. (Reading outdoors in the sunlight was Twilight’s newest obsession. She’d seen an article in Scientific Equestrian speculating that nearsightedness was caused by too much reading in poor light. None of Twilight’s friends realized how nearly blind she was without her corrective enchantments, and she definitely didn’t want her eyes to get worse.) Her plan had been to read Sugar Water’s Record of the Cola Wars and lose herself in the history of an earlier, more bellicose era of public taste tests, brutal media campaigns, eroded market share and ill-conceived reformulations. She packed her saddlebags with the Geographic Guide to Equestria to help her sort out the sometimes confusing movements of troops and ships in the history book’s pages, plus a few other reference books Celestia had loaned her from the Royal Library.
To her intense frustration, when she unpacked her saddlebags in the park, she discovered that she’d brought her reference material but forgotten the history book itself. She grumbled at herself all the way back to the library — where she found Pinkie Pie waiting in ambush. Pinkie needed her help to set up a birthday party for the spa ponies, Aloe and Lotus. A birthday party for twins, Pinkie insisted, had to be “double double the fun” of a regular birthday party, and decorating had taken all afternoon. After Pinkie Pie released her, Twilight barely had time to go home and freshen up, take Spike to a playdate with a couple of his friends, and return to the party.
She was never a party girl. She’d changed a lot since coming to Ponyville, but Twilight Sparkle was still an introverted personality. She enjoyed herself, but if she was (along with Fluttershy) among the first to leave the party, no one held it against her. Not even Pinkie Pie. They understood her.
Her mental review of the day’s events was interrupted by a strained voice calling her name. “Twilight Sparkle! Oh, Twilight Sparkle!” She looked up to see a gray pegasus pony waving a wing at her. For a moment she thought it was Derpy, but no… This pony had a pale blue mane and tail rather than yellow, and that wasn’t Derpy’s voice at all. Twilight stopped, and the pegasus trotted over. “I’m so glad I found you! If anypony can help, I know it’s you.”
“Help with what? What’s the matter?”
The pegasus sat on her haunches and rubbed her hooves together. “Oh, it’s awful! There’s a poor little blind text in that dark alleyway over there. It’s lost and injured, and I’m afraid to even try moving it.”
Twilight quirked an eyebrow. “Injured?”
The pegasus nodded. “It has a split infinitive, a mixed metaphor, and I think there could be some broken sentences!”
Twilight gasped. “Oh no, that’s bad! Let me see what I can do!” Twilight trotted over to the dark alley, one of the few to be found in Ponyville, just between the the buildings of Quills & Sofas and the Toupee & Candle Works. Between the vine-covered stone walls of the alleyway, there was a manilla folder laying open and many sheets of paper bound together with a metal clip. She held down the pages with the edge of her hoof, as if to make sure they didn’t get away, and she squinted at the text and began to read.
Far far away, behind the word mountains, far from the countries Vokalia and Consonantia, there live the blind texts. Separated they live in Bookmarksgrove right at the coast of the Semantics, a large language ocean. A small river named Duden flows by their place and supplies it with the necessary regelialia. It is a paradisematic country, in which roasted parts of sentences fly into your mouth.
Even the all-powerful Pointing has no control about the blind texts; it is an almost unorthographic life. One day, however, a small line of blind text by the name of Lorem Ipsum decided to leave for the far World of Grammar.
The Big Oxmox advised her not to do so, because there were thousands of bad Commas, wild Question Marks and devious Semikoli, but the Little Blind Text didn’t listen. She packed her seven versalia, put her initial into the belt, and made herself on the way.
When she reached the first hills of the Italic Mountains, she had a last view back on the skyline of her hometown Bookmarksgrove, the headline of Alphabet Village and the subline of her own road, the Line Lane. Pityful a rethoric question ran over her cheek, then she continued her way. On her way she met a copy.
The copy warned the Little Blind Text, that where it came from it would have been rewritten a thousand times and everything that was left from its origin would be the word “and,” and the Little Blind Text should turn around and return to its own, safe country. But nothing the copy said could convince her, and so it didn’t take long until a few insidious Copy Writers ambushed her, made her drunk with Longe and Parole, and dragged her into their agency where they abused her for their projects again and again.
And if she hasn’t been rewritten, then they are still using her.
“uhh… Wait. This doesn’t even make any sense…”
*BANG!*
A blast of light and sound went off in her face, and she slumped to the ground. A unicorn stallion came out of his hiding place, and he approached Twilight along with the gray pegasus, who said, “Good work, Flash Bang! She’s out like a light. Quickly now, get her magic suppressed and tie her up! I’ll fetch the cart.”
Equestria was a civilization built on order and control. The cycle of day and night, the seasons, the weather and even the lives of wild animals were methodically tamed, harnessed, regimented and scheduled for the security and prosperity of ponies. In the society of ponies, evil was personified by Discord, the avatar of chaos, and Mother Nature, red of tooth and claw. For ponies to thrive, chaos must give way order, and nature must be domesticated.
Mother Nature gave ground grudgingly, though, and she had her ways of pushing back.
The Everfree Forest was much feared by ponies, and not without good reason. It was one of the few surviving remnants of the ancient Big Thicket that had once covered vast regions of Equestria. As the forest was carved up and whittled away by advancing pony civilization, all the wild things of the world had retreated into smaller and smaller territories. Like fish in a drying lake, they’d been squeezed into this last remaining wild place. The smaller it became, the more difficult it became for ponies to encroach further, and eventually a sort of equilibrium had been established.
Now ponies invaded once again. Pegasi had deposited carriages and carts in a forest clearing. More ponies had emerged from their conveyances. The wild things of Everfree kept their distance. They knew from hard experience that ponies were dangerous when they came in numbers.
These invaders were ponies, yes, but most unusual. All of them wore black cloaks — although with incongruously colorful legs and tails poking out. Some of them had cold, cyan-blue, reptilian eyes glinting from within their dark hoods. They scurried about with purpose. They cleaned off a circular space in the clearing, moving the snow into piles around the circumference, and upon these they placed wooden bowls filled with oil-soaked powders. Upon the newly bared ground, paint was used to draw arcane lines of power. Above, pegasus ponies pushed unruly, wild clouds out of the way, letting moonlight spill unhindered into the clearing.
Most of the wild things of Everfree kept their distance, but there was one who ventured close enough to observe. It was another pony-sized figure, this one wearing a cloak of brown from which protruded legs and a tail of mottle gray. From within the hood, sky blue eyes peered into the clearing, spying from a place of concealment, underneath ice-encrusted bushes.
A black-cloaked unicorn levitated a large bundle from a cart and brought it closer to the circle. As it came into view, the spy gasped softly in recognition. The bundle was a pony, hog-tied, head covered with a burlap bag. There was no mistaking the lavender color or the starburst upon her hip, though.
The brown-cloaked one muttered, “This wicked design I must thwart… but Twilight’s captors are too many to face.” She thought for a moment, then nodded to herself. “To Ponyville I must report -- and fetch her friends to rescue her from this place.” She retreated stealthily, keeping under cover and out of view from the pegasus ponies.
Among the cultists were two, a pegasus and an earth pony, who wore silver armor — scanty, ceremonial armor fashioned as close replicas of that worn by Nightmare Moon, lacking only her helmet. They conversed among themselves while their black-cloaked subordinates double-checked and triple-checked the preparations. Then a third armored pony, another pegasus, swooped down to land and join the first two.
The purple one who’d just landed said, “Stonewall! We’ve cleared the sky overhead and built a protective ring of storm clouds further out. They’re about as well-sorted as we’re going to get them in this crazy place. Is everything else ready? Gray Gale?” He looked to the other pegasus.
“I’ve got the package, with some help from Flash Bang,” she said, and she nodded toward the edge of the clearing where the bound form of Twilight Sparkle had been dumped. She looked around the circle. “So… I don’t see Spell Nexus?”
The earth pony responded, “Be calm, Gale. He’s meditating — or praying to our Lady of the Night. He’ll be here shortly.”
While they waited, the pegasi couldn’t stand still, shuffling their hooves and flicking their wings. Enormous effort and treasure had been spent leading up to this fateful night, and the moment of truth was nearly at hoof. In a few minutes Spell Nexus made his appearance, coming up a forest path from the nearby pond and entering the clearing. Nobody who knew him in his daily life would recognize him now. His coat, mane and tail had been dyed black, and his eyes shone cyan-blue. His armor was a replica in full of Nightmare Moon’s, to include the helmet, and over it lay a cape of midnight blue spangled with white stars, designed to resemble her mane and tail. None of his followers were allowed to look as much like Nightmare Moon as he did.
Also, none of them were unwise enough to mention that he looked somewhat ridiculous.
He approached his lieutenants and looked first to the purple pegasus. “How close are we, Night Wind?” he asked.
“Cloud cover is almost complete, and then the pegasi need a few minutes to get their bowls,” was the reply.
“Good.” He nodded and looked next to the earth pony. “Stonewall, do you have the items?”
“They have not left my sight since our departure from Canterlot, Nexus,” he replied, and with a toss of his head indicated the covered wooden bowl resting upon his back.
Spell Nexus turned his gaze to the gray pegasus next. “And Gray Gale, is our special guest awake?”
Gale grinned as she answered, less formally than the others, “Oh yeah, she just woke up — and boy is she scared!”
Night Wind retorted, “That’s because you told her Stonewall would snap off her horn if she tried to escape.”
Gale shrugged. “Hey, it kept her from trying anything.”
Night Wind grumped, “She couldn’t try anything even if she wanted to, with her horn wrapped up in iron wire.”
Gale started to respond, but Spell Nexus interrupted their dispute before it could grow. “You have all done well,” he said, “but now we must all take our places for the first ceremony of the night. I must call down the moon.”
Gale asked, “Is that going to take long?”
“A while, I expect,” he replied vaguely. Nexus looked to the other stallion. “Stonewall, take the sacred items to their place in the center of the ritual! Gray Gale, Night Wind, prepare your torches and head for the sky!”
The three saluted and dispersed to carry out their tasks. Spell Nexus sauntered over the prepared ritual ground, taking care not to disturb any of the workings, until he was outside the circle and over to the edge of the clearing. There he approached Twilight Sparkle — still hog-tied with a burlap bag secured over her head, her lavender coat smudged with dirt. He gazed for a few moments, as though lost in thought, but then he ignited his magic to loosen the bag and remove it. Twilight looked up at him and flinched, her eyes and ears giving away her fear.
He smirked and said, “I’m so happy you were able to join us this evening.”
She struggled against the ropes that bound her legs together. Casting any spell was impossible while her horn was tightly wrapped in iron wire. Even if she hadn’t been tied up, removing the tangle of wire using only her hooves would have been a long and tiresome task. After a few moments of struggle she went limp and then, with difficulty, found her voice. “Who are you?” she asked. “What are you going to do to me?”
“You’re a student of magic, yes? A prodigy, by all accounts. Think of this as a very special field trip.” His horn glowed and he lifted Twilight off the ground and floated her toward the center of the clearing, into the circle. “I doubt you’ve ever witnessed rituals of the power and sophistication we have planned for tonight — and you’ll be part of it.” He brought her to a metal pedestal, upon which rested the wooden bowl that Stonewall had brought. He went on to say, “As to who we are… Well, consider us simply the loyal servants of Equestria’s true queen: Her Regal Majesty Nightmare Moon!”
“Are you crazy!?” Twilight exclaimed. “Nightmare Moon is gone. How can you serve somepony who is gone?”
“It is much easier than you think, Miss Sparkle. I, however, will not spoil the surprise. For the moment, all you need to know is that your… hm… contribution is appreciated.” With his magic he wrapped a cord tightly around her muzzle, clamping her jaw shut and stifling her protests. From the pedestal he levitated a gauze pad. “The first phase of tonight’s activities requires a sacrifice of blood. Let’s see if we can find some…”
With his magic he lifted her tail and moved the gauze toward its base. Her eyes went wide though her pupils were no more than pinpricks, and she squirmed as much as she could within the tight bindings and whimpered through her clamped-shut muzzle.
Nexus growled, “Calm yourself! I find this as distasteful as you do, I assure you.”
The normally stoic Stonewall seemed equally conflicted, biting his lip and averting his gaze. “What if there isn’t any? What if it’s not her time?”
“Have a little faith! At our moment of destiny what we require is provided.” Releasing Twilight’s tail he lifted the gauze and revealed a smudge of red.
Stonewall frowned. “That’s it?”
“It is all we need,” Nexus said, placing the gauze into the sacrificial bowl. Then he looked up to the full moon blazing overhead and intoned: “Three-faced mare! In ancient times my ancestors raised you, lowered you, guided you through the sky. As you heeded their call, now heed mine! In the name of the Dark Lady whom I serve, I fetch you, bind you! Answer my call, and do her bidding!”
There was silence for several long moments. Black-cloaked ponies around the perimeter of the circle watched and waited. From where she lay on the ground, Twilight Sparkle struggled not to hyperventilate, hoping beyond hope that nothing would happen, that this ritual would fail.
A shadow, as of clouds or smoke, drifted across the face of the moon, turning it red. Stonewall leaned close to Spell Nexus and whispered, “Is that supposed to happen?”
He replied quietly, “The rest is up to our Lady of the Endless Night.”
High upon a hilltop in The Dreaming, Nightmare Moon waited impatiently. Luna and the Nemesis had proven more resistant to the effects of dream sand than she had expected. She had to periodically give each of them another dose whenever it began to wear off, whenever they began to show some will of their own. To her relief, the supply of sand from her bag replenished itself, seemingly without limit.
The night darkened. Nightmare Moon ruffled her wings and glanced upward, to the moon. It had turned blood red. “YES! The lackey has done it!”
Then she spread her wings, and her horn began to glow as she cast a spell, and she called upward to the sky: “Heed me! My servant in the waking world is calling, and you shall answer!”
There was silence for a few long moments. Then a deep voice echoed across the void: “We hear him. We do not answer to the likes of him.”
Nightmare gritted her teeth. “Has the sacrifice not been made?”
Seconds passed. Then, “It has. But we do not answer to the likes of him. We do not answer to stallions.”
“The sacrifice has been made in my name, on my behalf. I am no stallion, and you will answer to me! We have walked together in the past, you and I. For a thousand years you bound me; now I bind you. We are old friends, you and I. She who dies and lives and never dies, be here for me!”
More seconds passed before the voice came down from the heavens again. “YOU?” Nightmare Moon had the uncanny feeling that she was being scrutinized, as she’d been almost beneath notice until that moment, but now the moon’s full attention was focused on her. It was not a comfortable feeling. “Who are you? Who stands by your side?” rumbled the moon.
“What kind of question is that? Can you not see us?”
“I see the past, the present, and the future,” it responded.
Nightmare frowned for a moment, pondering. “hurr… Yes! Princess Luna is the past. This nameless creature of brief life is the present. And I, Nightmare Moon, am the future — soon to be the sole ruler over Equestria.”
The moon’s voice came back. “What would you with us, Nightmare? We have not been drawn down for thousands of cycles. Do you know what you are doing? Do you know what you have done?”
Still gazing steadfastly at the face of the moon, Nightmare said, “I know exactly what I’ve done and why I called you. We have come together to walk your road, Moon! Open your path and transport us from this world of dreams to the living world, and to the place that my servant therein has prepared for me!”
The moon rumbled, “Transport you out from the realm of dreams? It is not our realm. Why should we meddle in the affairs of the Dream King?”
Nightmare stamped a hoof and answered firmly, “Because you can! Because I order you to! Because I was born into this! Just as I pulled you down from the heavens, you are mine to dispose of, mine to command.”
Long seconds passed, as a chill breeze rustled through the grass upon the hilltop. Then the moon’s voice filtered down once more. “Perhaps.” Its face turned darker. “Where others ask timorously, you commanded, directed, ordered. It galled us. But the others are dust now, and less than dust. And one day you, in your turn, will face a reckoning.”
Nightmare snorted. “Your words ring hollow. My servant you’ll be for all time.”
Storm Chaser was having bad dreams. The pegasus tossed and turned, and he mumbled in his sleep. Then he fell out of bed, landing with a thump on the hard fog-crete floor of his bedroom.
He groaned, started to get up, but then he felt it: a gradual lift and then drop, like a boat riding over a wave. But he wasn’t in a boat. He was in his apartment. He stumbled out of his bedroom, through his small home to the open balcony. Before he’d even reached it, the sounds of tumult were reaching his ears. Ponies were yelling in the distance, and there were crashing sounds, and creaking sounds, and occasional sharp crack.
As he reached the vantage point his balcony offered, his eyes went wide. There were more lights on and more ponies flying about than there ever should have been at this time of night. Most distressing, however, was the moon. It was a giant, at least four times the size he’d ever seen before, flooding the night with silvery light. He wondered for a moment if it was going to come crashing down onto the city.
The floor rolled under his hooves again, and he knew he had to act. He launched himself from the balcony and winged his way toward the weather control office. As he flew, gusts of wind whirled through Cloudsdale, threatening to send him spinning into a building. He gritted his teeth and recovered — he’d seen worse in his job as a weather pony, but this kind of turbulence most certainly didn’t belong in the city.
Below, in the brilliant moonlight, he could see the waves undulating through the city streets and buildings, like an earthquake in the sky. He was startled to see a distillation tower break loose from the weather factory. Such wind! Cloudsdale was never made to withstand a wind storm like this. He glanced toward the horizon, past the edge of the city, and then did a double take as he saw how the ground was moving relative to the city. This freak storm was carrying Cloudsdale away to heaven-knows-where.
He approached the plaza outside the Weather Office. It seemed that every trained weather pony in the city had responded in the same way, by coming here. They were being quickly assembled into ad-hoc squadrons, given brief instructions and sent flying. A pony called to him, “Storm Chaser, over here!” and waved him down.
Storm swooped down to a landing, and blinked. “Pencil Pusher? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you outside the office before.”
Pencil Pusher’s face was grim. “It’s all hooves on deck for this one. No pony knows where this freak wind came from, but we’ve got to keep it from ripping up the city.”
Storm tossed his head in a vigorous nod. “Okay, what’s the plan?”
“We’re going to ride it out. Let the wind carry Cloudsdale wherever it’s going until it runs out of steam. We can worry about where we end up when we get there. That means we need all our weather ponies out there right now fighting this turbulence and taming the gusts. We’ve just got to minimize the damage, right?”
“And hope we don’t hit a mountain?”
Pencil Pusher shrugged. “We’ll just have to deal with that when we come to it.”
“Okay then… Who am I working with?”
“Look around and pick out who you want from the weather ponies here. Whoever you see is what we’ve got to work with.”
Storm Chaser nodded again. “Fair enough!” Then he cast a glance upward. “Uhh… What about this moon?”
Pencil Pusher shook his head. “I don’t know what it means either. I just hope there’s somepony who does.”
It’s a common saying that Manehattan is the city that never sleeps. As he watched waves lapping over the seawall at the point of lower Manehatten, and felt the salt spray pelt his jacket, and spat grit out of his mouth, Fire Captain Stablemaker had a feeling nobody would be getting much rest tonight.
Lieutenant Trotter came through the spray and nudged Stablemaker to get his attention, then reported, “Captain, it’s worse than we thought! This high tide is already way above anything we’ve seen before, and the storm surge is pushing water into subway tunnels all the way up to Griffintown. And this sand is blowing through Midtown, too. It’s like… It’s like some kind of sandy super-storm!”
“Where the hay are all the weather ponies?” the Captain growled.
The Lieutenant shook his head. “It’s no use, they’re all grounded. They can’t even fly in something like this. All the bridges are closed too, even the Hooflyn Bridge. We’re cut off!”
“Dang! Let’s get back to the station.”
When they arrived back at the fire station, another fire pony came running out to meet them. “Captain! We just got a box call from the Harness District! Multiple buildings already involved; it sound bad!”
The Captain stamped a hoof. “All right then, let’s saddle up! It looks like we’ve got a long night ahead.”
Princess Celestia had cleared her schedule and insisted on spending every possible moment close by her sister, who was still locked in slumber despite the best efforts of Canterlot’s savants. Time and bad news had taken its toll on Celestia. Slumped across a couch, naked without her accustomed regalia, her mane and tail had gone back to their rarely-seen natural pink, limp and disheveled, and she’d rarely looked less royal than she did now.
Her ladies-in-waiting were agitated to see her in such a state. She’d been so sleep-deprived, though, that none of them had the heart to wake her to try to get her into a proper bed.
Without warning a shudder ran through the castle. Celestia was jolted awake and clutched at the couch with her legs in blind reflex. Panicked yells and crashes echoed through the castle as it continued to shake for a very long twenty seconds or so.
As soon as the shaking stopped and Celestia was able to stand, she checked on her sister and found her still locked into sleep. The ladies-in-waiting caught up with Celestia only moments later. “Princess, are you all right?” one asked.
“I am,” she assured. “But please, stay here with my sister while I go and assess the damage!” She hastily donned her regalia and slipped into the role of leadership again.
It didn’t take long for reports to reach her. The quake had caused minor damage in the castle and beyond, but few injuries. Even as she was receiving one of these reports from an aide, the castle shuddered with another, milder temblor. The urgent question then became: what if these were merely foreshocks of a bigger quake to come? The castle, with its soaring spires and its base hanging partially over the side of the Canterhorn, was the last place anyone wanted to be when the earth started shaking, and Celestia ordered an evacuation.
Staff, guards and guests were systematically guided out of the castle. Those staff who could be readily dismissed were sent home, while others were gathered in the plaza outside the castle’s front entrance, or in the training fields of the royal guards — who began pulling tents out of storage. An orderly placed Luna upon a cot and magically carried her out from the castle’s infirmary while Celestia followed closely.
When they exited the castle, Celestia came to a stop, almost in mid-stride, and she looked upward, gawping in a most un-princess-like manner. Amid the reports about earthquake damage no one had bothered to mention the moon: far larger than normal, blazing in the sky, flooding the landscape with silvery light.
Having stopped when she did, the orderly asked, “Princess, are you all right?”
She didn’t look at him. Still staring upward she said, “This is what caused the earthquakes. Somepony has drawn down the moon. But who would be so…” She bit back the word she’d been thinking of, and glanced at the cot where her sister was still laying unconscious. “Luna, have you done this in your sleep? Or has another stolen the moon from you?”
The orderly said, “Ma’am? Can you do something about it? Can you fix it?”
Celestia answered by way of staring upward at the face of the moon once more, her lips pressed together, brow furrowed with determination. Her lengthy horn was enveloped in golden scintillation as she cast a spell — but after several seconds she released it and lowered her head. “No… As I feared, the moon isn’t responding to me anymore.”
A silvery splash of light stretched across the black void, slithering through nowhere, spanning the uncreated waste that lies between places. Upon the strip of light, three dark figures walked.
Identity blurs on the moon’s road.
I am Princess Luna.
I am Nightmare Moon.
I am the Nemesis.
I am the hero.
I am the villain.
I am Princess Celestia’s sister.
I am the daughter of the night.
I am the rightful ruler of Equestria.
I am… I…
In the pale light of the moon, I play the game of you. Whoever I am. Whoever you are.
All sense of where I am, of who I am and where I’m going has been swallowed by the dark. And I walk through the stars and sky… A trinity of dreams beneath the moon.
Author's Note
This gave me fits, because I had to figure out how closely I wanted to conform with Past Sins (in which the ritual was treated rather perfunctorily) and how closely I wanted to conform with Sandman (when Thessaly drew down the moon), and how much I wanted to do my own thing. I hope the result doesn't offend too many.
27 - The End and the Beginning
Celestia had a large tent erected on the parade grounds for Luna and herself, and a couple of guards stationed at the tent opening to control the flow of ponies in and out as they reported to her or asked for her guidance. She was grateful that she didn’t have to work under the gaze of the grossly swollen moon. She found it disturbing, to say the least.
Celestia struggled to stay alert while listening to her Minister of Housing and Urban Development, Mrs. Sweethome, argue with the Transportation Secretary, Rapid Transit, about whether it was safe, or necessary, to evacuate ponies from Canterlot City down the mountainside by train. She was trying to think of a way to quell the bickering when there was a shout of alarm from outside the tent, and a split-second later something crashed into it — ripping through the fabric and tumbling to a stop almost at Celestia’s feet.
The two bureaucrats bucked and whinnied with panic, and then darted out of the tent, almost colliding with the two guards who rushed in. “There’s the intruder! I’ll get her,” one guard yelled as he pointed a hoof at the sky-blue, rainbow-maned pony who was groaning and picking herself up off the ground.
Celestia raised a hoof and spoke firmly, “STOP! Stand down, my guards!” They blinked at her, puzzled, but backed off. She then nuzzled at the scruffy pegasus and said, “Rainbow Dash, are you all right? What brings you here?”
Rainbow Dash dusted herself off. “Ha, this is nothing!” Then she noticed the other occupant of the tent, laid out on a cot. “Oh no! Is Princess Luna hurt? Is she gonna be okay?”
Celestia struggled to answer truthfully. “She’s… She’ll be all right; she’s being looked after. She’s resting. Please, Rainbow Dash, tell me why you crashed into my tent!”
Rainbow’s attention snapped back. “Oh, right! Oh, Princess! You gotta help us! They’ve got Twilight Sparkle; she’s been ponynapped! They’re in the Everfree Forest, and there’s crazy cultists, and Zecora said they’ve got her tied up, and there’s crazy weather, and monsters…”
Celestia’s eyes went wide. “Twilight Sparkle was taken? Calm down, Rainbow Dash! Slow down! Please try to explain things in the order that they happened.”
Rainbow Dash took a deep breath and nodded and started over. “Okay, uh… First Zecora — that’s a zebra who lives in the Everfree Forest — ran into town and said she saw a bunch of creepy cult ponies, and they had Twilight tied up. So, I got the girls together — you know, all Twilight’s friends — at the library, and of course she wasn’t there, so we knew we had to try and rescue her.”
As she told the story, Rainbow’s voice cracked with anguish. “But we couldn’t do it! There’s a lot of those cult ponies, and they’ve set up a wall of thunderstorms around the edge of the forest, and all the monsters in the forest are angry and roaming around too. I mean… I’d do anything for Twilight, all of us would, but we’re not soldiers. We can’t fight our way in there to get her. We need help. Please send the Wonderbolts! Or send your Royal Guards! Send anypony to help us get her back!”
Before Celestia could answer, one of the guards butted in. “Listen, you! We need every guard we’ve got right here to keep the princesses safe and to keep Canterlot safe in case there are more earthquakes. We can’t put together a rescue mission under these conditions and go flying off on a wild goose chase based on the word of some zebra. It could even be a ploy to draw troops away from the city.”
Rainbow gawped at him for a moment, then resorted to begging. “Princess, please! You’ve got to believe me! Send whoever you can, even if it’s only one or two guards! We’ll take whatever we can get.”
Celestia’s brow was furrowed with concern as she answered, “Rainbow Dash, listen to me! I’ve made my decision. I’m not sending my guards to rescue Twilight Sparkle.”
Rainbow’s lip quivered, and tears started to pool in her eyes as she asked, “But…. why not?”
Celestia stood up and opened her wings and replied: “Because I’ll be leading them there myself!”
The gigantic moon flooded the forest clearing with cold white light. In the distance, moonlit cloud banks could be seen isolating the area, also lit erratically by flashes of lightning. The distant rumble of thunder, scent of ozone, and unnatural light gave the entire area a suitably eerie atmosphere.
Night Wind glided down to land by Spell Nexus and report: “Some ponies tried to enter the forest. They didn’t get far. Our cadres sent them packing, but maybe we should hurry this up. If they know what we’re doing…”
“Don’t worry!” Spell Nexus assured. “Everything is in readiness for the final ritual. For those who might oppose us, time has run out.”
He returned to the pedestal where Twilight Sparkle was still tied up, and he gave her a casual kick. “Are you awake? Pay attention, student! Our major working of this night is about to begin, and once more you must contribute.” He moved to the pedestal. The wooden bowl had been emptied of the earlier sacrifice, and now it contained broken and scorched pieces of silvery metal — the remnants of Nightmare Moon’s armor.
He then turned his attention to a small dagger which had been set beside the bowl, picking it up with his magic. The stallion then looked back at Twilight, who twisted and whined through her bound-shut muzzle. He drew close to Twilight and gave her a swift kick in the stomach, harder than before, and picked her up.
The kick quickly made Twilight stop flailing, and she hung limply in Nexus’s magic, trying to catch the breath that had been knocked out of her lungs. In the moment Twilight hung motionless, Nexus drew his dagger’s blade across part of her leg, leaving a shallow cut. The minor injury brought a muffled whimper of panic from the captive unicorn.
Blood seeped from the wound, and Nexus gathered several drops onto the blade of his dagger before placing it into the wooden bowl with Nightmare Moon’s remains.
“Yes, the spark of life from one who bears the Element of Magic. May it grant our queen invulnerability against those cursed Elements of Harmony,” Nexus whispered, levitating Twilight back to the edge of the clearing and dropping her rudely at the base of a tree. Then he approached the metal pedestal.
Slowly, Nexus drew in another breath, releasing it and watching the puff of steam escape into the night air. Then, one final deep breath before the unicorn leader looked out across the Children of Nightmare, his voice echoing across the trees as he preached to his fellows.
“Brothers and Sisters, for months we have toiled in secrecy. We worked behind the backs of the guards, of the tyrant princesses, putting our own safety at risk. Personal fortunes have been spent along with many hours to bring us to this point. But now we are ready, the spell is prepared.”
“Tonight we, The Children of Nightmare, shall see our queen given life, blood and form of her own.”
“Once, she and Luna were one and the same, but the Elements of Harmony could not destroy what our queen was. No, that power could only peel her away from the weak foal Luna, trap her essence in these precious shreds. It was a horrible fate, but it is because of the Elements of Harmony’s inability to destroy our queen that we can stand here tonight.”
“For tonight, this spell will give the essence of our queen life of her own. She will no longer be shackled to the meek Princess Luna. She shall breathe the cool night air with lungs of her own, see the world with eyes of her own, and with our aid will come to rule over all Equestria within a year of her tragic defeat.”
“Now, lend your magic to the spell… for the time of our victory is at hoof! Let Nightmare Moon be born anew!”
All the cult members quickly went about their work. The unicorns formed a circle around the clearing, horns starting to glow as the lines of paint they had drawn on the forest floor came to life with a blue glow. Stonewall, one of the few earth ponies, walked around the circle, using a torch to light the bowls filled with oil soaked powders. The powders burned with an eerie blue flame, the air in the clearing becoming so thick with magic it almost became tangible.
The cloaked pegasi cultists also held bowls of burning powder, the armored Gray Gale and Night Shade flying around to light the bowls kept aloft above the clearing.
When all the bowls were lit, Nexus used his magic to take the fire from one, gently holding it in the air and keeping the flickering flame alive. He brought the fire over the bowl containing the shreds of Nightmare Moon’s armor and the bloodied dagger, and then he dropped the flame inside.
The contents ignited and flared up almost instantly, and Nexus retreated to the edge of the spell circle to join his fellow unicorns. There, they all began to twist and form the magic in the air, working like potters with clay. They shaped the free magic, molded it, and began to force the magic down into the bowl that contained the shreds of Nightmare Moon.
After a few anxious moments Nexus saw what he had hoped for; the blood soaked dagger floated upward above the fire. The blood was drawn up from the dagger, formed into a single crimson sphere before the dagger itself was launched clear of the spell, its polished metal digging into a nearby tree.
The central bowl then began to billow with black smoke, the shreds of Nightmare Moon starting to truly burn. The black smoke began to form and swirl around the large drop of blood. The fires from the wooden bowls began getting drawn in, the flames swirling and orbiting the spell’s focal point like water in a whirlpool.
The drop of blood became encased in a black sphere, and that black sphere began to slowly grow. It drew in the fire and smoke, everything, and grew larger with each passing moment.
“Yes… It is working, my brothers and sisters! She is beginning to take shape. Our queen shall soon be—“
KRACK-CROOO-OOOM!
Every pony reflexively jumped when a single bolt of lightning blasted down from the sky and struck the center of the spell, hitting the metal podium while causing it, the shreds of Nightmare Moon, and the wooden bowl to all become wrapped in crimson flames.
Eyes turned upward to the source of the lightning, only to see a full battalion of royal guards pouring over the cloud wall and swooping into the forest clearing. “FREEZE!! YOU ARE ALL UNDER ARREST!!!” several of the guards shouted as dozens of gold-armored pegasi landed in the center of the clearing. Not a single pony froze, the cultists choosing instead to charge and attack the armored interlopers.
Nexus stood flabbergasted, watching as the center of the spell and the precious shreds of Nightmare Moon were destroyed. All their plans were decimated by a single surge of magical lightning — lightning that could only have come from one source. Turning his eyes skyward, Nexus glared at the next figure to float down through the hole in the clouds.
“Celestia…” Nexus forced out through gritted teeth, his cyan-blue eyes locked on the sun princess as she floated down amidst the fighting, casting back anyone that dared attack her with barely a flick of her horn. Inside him a billowing hatred grew. Every fiber of Nexus’s being wanted him to attack, to smite down the sun princess for daring to interrupt the ritual, but he knew better.
“Don’t think you’ve won today, Sun Tyrant! You have merely delayed me at best,” Nexus hissed, his own horn starting to glow. Gray Gale, Night Wind, Stonewall and a number of other cultists gathered near Nexus as magic flowed from his horn. The group then seemed to disappear into thin air, though a number of hoofprints took shape in the soft ground as the now invisible cultists fled into the Everfree Forest.
Laying on a cot, in a tent, a midnight blue pony stirred. Her eyes fluttered open, and she shifted and looked around. “Where am I? This is not my bedchamber.” She pushed aside the sheet and sat up.
The lady-in-waiting who had been keeping station nearby gasped and was at Luna’s side. “Your Royal Highness! You’re awake — oh, that’s wonderful! How do you feel?”
Luna blinked blearily. “I… I feel well, although I think I had a most distressing dream. It’s slipping away now, like water, like air… How strange! Usually I have no difficulty remembering my dreams.”
Luna suddenly found herself clamped in the arms of the other pony, receiving a hug. The servant girl said, “Maybe it’s best to not remember. It’s such a relief to have you back! I can’t wait to see Princess Celestia’s face when she finds out you’re okay.”
Awareness filtered into Nightmare Moon’s mind, like coming awake from a confused dream. In this dream she was drowning. It was a good dream, though. ”Good, all right, I’ll drown,” she thought, listening to the roar of the sea. ”Let me drown.”
And yet, the sound wasn’t that of the open sea; it was the sound of water splashing over rocks. She became more aware and realized she was laying on her side upon rough ground. Stones gouged into her hip, her flank, her cheek. She was uncomfortable. She thought about trying to move, but moving would be too much trouble.
After a while, water surged onto the rocks, surged around her, and the water was cold… bitterly cold… stingingly cold… shockingly cold… scorchingly cold… impossibly cold… She screamed as though she’d been horse-whipped and flailed her limbs as she struggled upright and inadvertently rolled her belly into the water as well. She fumbled and stumbled, got her wobbly legs underneath her, and staggered out of the water.
Dripping, shivering, head hanging low, she tromped upward, getting her feet out of the water as quickly as possible. She gave her body a deliberate shake, throwing off water like a dog, as she felt too dazed to cast any magic.
She looked around at the barren shore. The horizon was growing light, but there was no sun. “No…” she muttered. “I’m back in The Dreaming?”
She perked her ears at the sound of hoof-steps, and a silhouette approached. The unicorn stallion, larger than herself, stepped into the ruddy illumination of twilight and revealed himself as Morpheus, the Dream King.
He stopped, and the two silently considered one another, unmoving except for Nightmare Moon’s continued, involuntary shivering. She knew she ought to bow before him, but she wouldn’t. There was no point in making any insincere gesture of subordination. Nothing mattered anymore for her. As for Lord Dream of the Endless, he looked on impassively and kept his thoughts to himself.
After a measureless time, Nightmare Moon had enough of the silence, and she asked, “Well? What is to be my fate?”
“Your fate? As with all things in The Dreaming, your fate is whatever I wish it to be.”
She eyed him speculatively, an unspoken question written on her face.
“Punishment? Hmm. Not as such. You sought to circumvent my law, and yet, unwittingly and unwillingly, your actions served my aims better than you knew. I am the Prince of Stories, and I sense that a new story has already begun: one that you have set in motion.” He stepped closer, and his horn glowed for a moment. “The fragment of my soul that resided in you is gone. I would guess that it has served its purpose and moved on — elsewhere. Perhaps it has passed on to another.”
“Then what’s to become of me?”
“I shall find some use for you. Nothing in my realm is wasted.”
She shuffled her feet, looked at the ground. Then she looked up toward the sky and the distant moon. “My nemesis… I wonder what happened to it?”
Morpheus looked off into the distance for a moment, and the glint of starlight twinkled in the black void of his not-exactly-an-eye, and he said, “I do not sense it anywhere in The Dreaming.”
Nightmare Moon closed her eyes. “Destroyed, then, as you foretold. At least that’s one doom I’ll no longer have hanging over my head.”
“So it would seem. Now, come with me! Come home!”
In the dark depths of the Everfree Forest, in a clearing where the cultists had been and gone, and the royal guards had been and gone, the ritual pedestal was toppled and burnt by lightning, the sacrificial bowl shattered. Other bowls and their contents were scattered wherever they’d been dropped. Painted lines on the ground were ruined, scuffed and churned by hooves where struggles had taken place. A discarded cloak was trampled in the dirt. The ritual dagger, overlooked, remained embedded in a tree trunk. The moon appeared shrunken, its light fading when clouds drifted across its face.
Traces of smoke lingered in the frigid air, and with it the miasma of spent magic. Even the fiercest monsters that inhabited the forest would avoid this clearing for days to come. Silence was broken only by the rumble of thunder in the distance.
Not far away, within the branches of a blackthorn bush, a dark shape shivered. It opened, uncurled, revealing the form of a pony child. The black filly sniffed about and tried to move, but the thorn bush snagged her indigo mane and tail, and it tangled her legs and wings. Her horn sparked for a moment, but to no effect. The thorns scraped and nicked her skin. Struggling only made her become more tangled.
Hurting, cold and alone, she squeezed shut her cyan-blue draconic eyes and began to cry.
Author's Note
And that’s BLACK ANGEL. What a journey it’s been! I’m not sure that it’s my best writing, and I’m not sure it lived up to everything I imagined when I began, but I am satisfied anyhow. Also... I'm not marking this story "complete" until I've posted an epilogue, so stay tuned for that!
For those who want more, the story continues. I recommend:
Past Sins - by Pen Stroke
Nightmare Night and Nyx - by RealityCheck
Scarred Hearts - by Yukito
Point of No Return - by Wild_Heart
Samurai Nyx - (to be announced)
It's been years since this story was completed, and it's still the only novel-length piece that I have actually finished. I was just digging through the old hard drive and found a number of out takes, bits of prose that were cut from the story for various reasons. I thought it might be amusing to give them to you guys (assuming anyone even remembers this story, har har!) along with some notes.
Nightmare Moon interacted with a number of dreamers, and some of those encounters made it into the story, but a couple ended up on the cutting room floor.
“Great party, Pinkie Pie!”
Pinkie grinned and called back, “Thanks, Buttercup! And give the punch a try, if you haven’t yet!”
“Pinkie Pie, this cake is fanstastic!”
“Thank you! I’m so glad you like it, Bon Bon!”
“Hey Pinkie, you gotta see this game of Switcheroo we’ve got going. Rarity and Carrot Top are up next, it’s gonna be a hoot!”
“Oh, I don’t wanna miss that. I’ll be over there in a jiffy, Rainbow Dash!”
“Pinkie Pie, you murdered me.”
“That’s… huh, what?” Pinkie Pie turned to see Nightmare Moon looming large over her.
“You and your friends, Pinkie Pie. You used the Elements of Harmony and killed me.” She stepped forward.
Pinkie Pie stepped back, ears drooping, tail between her legs. “It wasn’t like that… We saved you. The Elements turned you back into Princess Luna, so you wouldn’t be a big meanie anymore, and then we all celebrated. Everypony was happy.”
Nightmare Moon shook her head and stepped forward again. “No, Pinkie Pie. The Elements of Harmony killed me, and then you all threw a party to celebrate my death.”
I didn't continue this bit, because it seemed like a diversion that wasn't going to advance the story in any way. Pinkie Pie would never have any other role in the story, and, frankly, I'm not very good with her. On the other hoof, Trixie Lulamoon is one of my all-time favorite ponies, and I did at one time want her to become one of Nightmare Moon's “friends” along with Abel, Spell Nexus, Derpy and Dominus Tusk.
“When all hope was lost, the ponies of Hoofington had no one to turn to, but the Great and Powerful Trixie stepped in, and with her awesome magic, vanquished the Ursa Major and sent it back to its cave deep within the Forest of No Return!” Trixie illustrated her story with a magical projection, a little glowing outline of herself waving a magic wand at a larger glowing outline of a bear.
From the audience came boos angry shouts. “LIAR!” yelled one. “FRAUD!” yelled another.
Trixie faltered. “You… You don’t believe the Great and Powerful Trixie?” She ducked a thrown banana. “Trixie ch-challenges you all! Anything you can do, Trixie can do better!” The audience broke out in laughter, and they began to disperse. Trixie burned with embarrassment, her head hung low.
A crunch made her look up and see the glowing outline of the bear grabbing her banner with its teeth and paws, tearing it down. She shrieked, “NONO! Don’t eat that! Bad bear!” The bear paid no heed, attacking her fireworks spinner next.
And that's as far as I got. At this point Nightmare Moon would have intervened in the dream, but again I realized that I didn't really have a plan for what to do with Trixie in this story, especially since the Great and Powerful Spell Nexus was already integral to the plot, so it was better to stay focused and cut Trixie.
Another aborted bit of interaction:
“I know the night sky, Derpy. I know the moon and the planets, and I know the Milky Way. I know the northern lights and the zodiacal light. I know meteors and comets. They all dance to my tune — all except the stars themselves. They are so far away, so mysterious. Even I don’t know what they are. My magic cannot touch them.”
Derpy awwed. “That’s too bad.”
“Not really. It’s their mystery that unicorn magic first came from. In ancient times those unicorn ponies gathered on hilltops to look up at the stars and puzzle over them. It was from that shared sense of wonder that their magic grew, and they learned to cast spells. I think that if we ever learned exactly what the stars are, that we would be diminished. The mystery would be gone, and with it some of the magic would go from our world, never to return.”
Derpy resumed eating her muffin
If Trixie had remained part of the story, I'm sure she would have found that discussion a lot more interesting than Derpy did.
After Nightmare Moon captured Nim (The Nemesis, or Proto-Nyx) she asked it where it came from. It was still half-formed, its personality still undetermined, and it recounted several possible origin stories. All of those little stories were basically taken from other fanfics, as various authors tried to fill in the background of Celestia and Luna with their own headcanon. Nim was groping to explain herself in much the same way. Then, Nightmare Moon almost retorted with her own (presumably more real!) account of her origin, but at the last moment bit her tongue and decided she didn't owe Nim any explanations. However, if she had proceeded, it would have been my own headcanon for Celestia and Luna's origins, the history that I presume for my own stories:
Nightmare Moon snorted. “You really have no idea, do you? You’re just making up these stories.”
The Nemesis looked at her. “Then let’s hear yours?”
“We’re monsters.”
The Nemesis blinked. “Say what now?”
Nightmare Moon took a deep breath, and then she elaborated. “In the early days of Equestria, not long after the first Hearth Warming of legend, the Wizard Wars raged all around our fledgeling nation. Warlocks, witches and sorcerers raised armies to battle one another, plundering the land and building their empires. They used morphogenic spells and created chimeric monstrosities to fill the ranks of their armies: griffins, minotaurs, manticores, cockatrices. Thus… In Equestria there was universal concern, fear of invasion by Malaclypse Magus and his son, or by Queen Katrina, or the warlord Grogar, or King Sombra, or Queen Nastinka, or the witch Hyddia and her daughters.”
“Equestria needed its own morphogenic monsters that could stand against whatever abominations the warlords would, inevitably, send our way. They put their most skilled unicorns to work on the problem, and they invented us: Sola and Luna. Alicorns. Living super-weapons.”
The Nemesis lowered its ears, flared its nostrils. “I don’t believe it.”
“You saw what I did to Tambelon and Grogar’s army — and that was without even casting spells. It’s exactly what I was made for.”
“But… How did you become princesses?”
“Oh, that. Well, you see… When Malaclypse the Younger heard about us, he became very determined to create the most powerful morphogenic monster of all, one that could surely defeat us. His theory was that the more different creatures he combined, the more powerful the resulting monster would be. Body of a serpent. . . equine head… one antler… one ibex horn… paw of a lion… bird’s talon… a feathered wing… a bat wing…”
“He made Discord?”
“Yes. And Discord showed his appreciation by turning Malaclypse the Younger into an eggplant. That was the end of the Wizard Wars. Everyone, good and bad, ponies and monsters alike, scattered and struggled merely to survive the unleashed chaos of a world turned upside-down. Sometimes literally. Nopony knows how long the Reign of Discord lasted. The sun and moon rose at random, and even the passage of time seemed scrambled by his magic. When Sola and I finally defeated him, Equestria had to be rebuilt from ruins, and we — the heroes of the day — took up the reins of power.”
The Reign of Discord has always fascinated me, and it's a subject I may return to someday. However, it's not clear that Nightmare Moon's rule over Equestria would have been much better. We got a hint of that from her sand-induced dream-within-a-dream of having Lord Numbskull (is there really any other kind of Lord?) tossed into the Fiery Pit. I also scribbled this scene that I never found a good place to insert:
They looked down upon the milling crowd. Nightmare Moon commented, “Ordinary ponies. Oh, how I loathe them!”
Spell Nexus leaned against her, and clutched her arm. “Me too!”
“What do you know?” she retorted with a snort. Then she moved her foreleg to gently push him away. “Nexus, what did we discuss before about personal space?”
He released her, reluctantly. “But you’re so beautiful, Mistress!”
“Don’t call me that! It makes me sound like a dominatrix.”
“uh… Ma’am? Majesty?”
She nodded. “Either of those is fine.”
“I love you, Majesty! Soon the ponies of Equestria will too.”
“No… No, they won’t. Once I wanted them to love me, but I’ve learned my lesson. Love is fickle and weak. It’s nothing more than a tingly feeling. Even if they loved me, what would it matter? They would turn against me as soon as another came to put a little fear in their hearts. Fear comes so easily to them!”
She reached with a hoof to ruffle his mane. “I shall begin my own reign of terror. You, Spell Nexus, will be free to join in, along with all the rest of my blessed followers. Soon we’ll have all the ponies of Equestria screaming on cue. I’ll make a renaissance of their nightmares.”
I also found this quote from the actual ancient Egyptian Book of the Dead:
X. The following shall be said when one cometh to the TENTH PYLON. Ani, the scribe of Osiris, whose word is truth, saith: “Goddess of the loud voice, the lady who is acclaimed on the day of darkness, the awful one who terrifieth, who herself remaineth unterrified within.” The name of her Doorkeeper is SEKHENUR. — The Book of the Dead
Is that not a spot-on description for Nightmare Moon? There was no good way to work it into the story, though.
Epilogue: The Doorways in the Mist
The forest had no underbrush. It had no streams. It had no wildlife. It had no night, and no day — only a perpetually gray twilight.
The forest had no name.
What the forest did have was fog, trees and doorways. Tree trunks rose up from the forest floor, standing like thick poles, reaching up into the mist. Somewhere above, presumably, was a canopy of branches and leaves, but these were indistinct in the fog. The doorways stood scattered seemingly at random, each one a perfectly normal seeming wooden door with a brass doorknob, mounted in a wooden frame, standing upright, incongruously, with no surrounding walls.
Dark quadrupedal shapes moved through the forest, through the mist among the trees and doorways. Their footsteps were muffled, their buzzing and clicking voices subdued when they spoke, which was rarely. They hawked up gobs of green goo, which they used like paint to rudely mark a different number upon each door.
One of the creatures was much larger than the others. She sat and watched and waited until an armored subordinate came to report: “We’ve assigned a number to each doorway, as you ordered! The total is 773.”
“Good work, Commander!” Queen Chrysalis responded. “Make sure our scouts understand their mission. One of these doors leads to the waking world, and to Equestria. That doorway must be identified.”
“It shall be done!” He buzzed his wings together, making a shrill sound like a cicada, calling the other changelings to gather around. When they were sitting and settled down, he addressed them: “Listen up, scouts! Each door has a number marked upon it. Each of you has also been assigned a number. You will proceed through your door and scout the land on the other side of it. You will remain there until you have determined whether it is the pony nation of Equestria. Then you will return through your door and report to me.”
He continued, “Once you have passed through your door, take immediate notice of your location! If you get lost, you will not be able to return to The Dreaming. Nobody on the other side will be able to see the door unless you guide them to it yourself. If you do not return, we may or may not send another scout after you, so don’t count on it. If you remain too long — for several days — then the door may vanish from your sight as well.”
He was silent for a moment as he swept his gaze across the assembled changelings. Then he said, simply, “Good luck to you one and all! Scout number one, you’re up!”
Changeling Scout No. 1
The first changeling scout stood before the first door while another held it open. The only thing visible within the door frame was absolute blackness. The scout crouched, buzzed his wings, and then charged forward into the blackness.
For a second he was floating, or perhaps tumbling, through a black void. Then, as suddenly as it had gone, light appeared again, and the scout tumbled down a sand bank.
Cold, cold, cold, COLD!! The sand seared him with cold wherever he touched it, and he buzzed his wings desperately to try and get away from it — but his wings found no purchase, gave no lift, despite the weird feeling of lightness he had. He tried to scream, but could muster no breath from his lungs. A wild glance at his surroundings showed only red sand, red rocks, red sky, and a shrunken, feeble sun. Desperately he spun and tried to claw his way back to the door. It was above him, higher up the sand bank, and it had already swung closed.
His oddly light weight may have been all that allowed him to climb back up to the door, but he still couldn’t catch any breath, and his thoughts were becoming muddled. He tried to grasp the doorknob with magic, but his horn only sparked feebly. He tried to grab the doorknob between his front feet, but the slick, round shape resisted his clumsy fumbling.
Blackness closed in, and he slipped back down the slope into the freezing sand.
Changeling Scout No. 57
The changeling scout tumbled out of his doorway and into a mud hole. Before he could even pick himself up, he heard a gruff voice ask, “What was that? It sounded like something splashed in the mudhole.”
A lighter voice responded, “Why ask me, Pumbaa? I thought you were the expert on splashing in mudholes.”
The scout was about to be spotted — and without a disguise. He looked around in near-panic, but there was nothing present that he could mimic, and his wings were fouled with mud. A tuft of grass above the bank rustled, and the face of a hideous creature popped up. Its beady eyes locked onto the scout, and it gasped. “Timon, look at this!”
A small, furry animal popped up beside the first and blinked at the changeling scout, then flinched. “Ewww… What a hideous creature!”
The larger animal grunted and nudged the smaller one. “Be nice, Timon! I’ve never seen anything like this before, but maybe it’ll be our friend.”
The changeling hissed and turned to bound up and out of the pit, away from them. “WAIT!” Pumbaa yelled after him. “You’re running toward hyena territory!”
Changeling Scout No. 73
In a dark chamber, deep inside a dark palace, in a dark land, a dark and twisted figure shuffled about his laboratory and its many iron cages. Creatures of all kinds keened and whined and made calls of distress. “Silence, animals!” the scientist snarled. Dressed in voluminous folds of tatty, dingy clothes, his body wizened, bony and vulture-like, he opened one of the cages and pulled out his captive. As the scout squirmed and whined, the Skeksis spoke to him. “You’re next, little Changeling.”
The Skeksis scientist dragged the changeling scout over to a metal chair and shoved him into it, then tightened down clamps on each of the changeling’s legs. “This won’t hurt. We just want to drain your living essence. Then you can be like the other slaves here.” The changeling whined and strained at the clamps, to no avail. The scientist turned to a podling slave and yelled, “Open the wall!”
Obediently, mindlessly, the podling turned a crank, and a gap opened in the wall, and red light spilled through along with gusts of hot air as though from an oven.
As the gap slowly widened, the scientist felt an impulse to brag about this pride and joy. “Now, Changeling… Out there is the great shaft of the castle.” To his slave he ordered, “Position the reflector!” A lever was pulled, and an arm began sliding into position, moving a large chunk of crystal into place just beyond the wall opening.
“The reflector will capture the beams of the Dark Crystal floating high above. Look into the reflector, Changeling! Feel the power of the Dark Crystal!” A beam of magenta-colored light shone out from the reflector and into the scout’s eyes. Slack-jawed, he stared back, unable to resist. The scientist watched closely. “Mmm… Ahh, yes! And now the beam will rid you of your fears, your thoughts, your vital essence.” A liquid began to bubble through the tubes surrounding the chair and drip into a flask beside it. The holes in the changeling’s legs grew visibly larger, his figure more emaciated, and the color faded from his eyes.
“You’re lucky, slave. Only the Emperor can drink your essence.” The Skeksis picked up the flask and sniffed. “Ahh… Fresh essence from a new and magical species! Perhaps I should sneak a sip myself — for science, of course.”
Changeling Scout No. 186
A wrinkled, shriveled, old man peered through his thick glasses at the others gathered around a meeting table and announced, “Good news, everyone! We have a new employee on the Planet Express team. Please welcome Skitterskee! He’s a ‘Changeling’, which apparently is some sort of alien half-bug, half-pony thing seeking asylum from his tyrannical queen.”
The others around the table — several humans, a mutant, a robot, and a crab-like alien — all waved and offered half-hearted greetings, with one exception. The small human wearing a pink sweatsuit drew her hands up to either side of her face and squealed. “Eeeeeee! I always wanted a bug-pony!” She hopped out of her seat and ran to throw her arms around the changeling, dazing him with her sudden outburst of love.
Changeling Scout No. 270
Door number 270 swung open and the scout tumbled out of it — back into The Dreaming. Another changeling started to ask, “Did you find Equestria…”
He was cut off by the frantic chittering of the scout. “CLOSE THE DOOR CLOSE THE DOOR CLOSE THE DOOR!”
Confused, the other was slow to respond. He’d just started to reach for the door when a loud buzzing noise came from the opening and dozens of objects began flying out. In a moment it became obvious that these objects were yellow-and-black striped wasps, each about the size of a large rat.
In moments to follow it became obvious that these wasps were very angry.
Changeling Scout No. 318
After a moment of blackness and disorientation, the scout tumbled out of his doorway and onto green grass. After a moment for his dizziness to subside, he stood up and looked around. He found himself in a small meadow with scattered sprigs of wildflowers, and trees growing all around it. He sniffed about, and the air was clean and good. He buzzed his wings and lifted off for a wider view.
From above he spotted a trail running through the grass. He followed it for a short distance until it led him to an object, where he landed to get a closer look. He found a mailbox on top of a wooden post. Next to the mailbox was a hole in the ground: a burrow with bare dirt heaped around it.
The scout sniffed at the hole, but sound and movement from inside made him pull back — just in time, as a creature popped out of the burrow right in front of him. It looked like a gray rabbit, although much bigger than any the changeling had seen before, its body oddly shaped, and it wore a pair of white gloves. The bunny gnawed for a moment on the end of a carrot he was carrying, and then said, “Ehhh… What’s up, Doc?”
Changeling Scout No. 360
Tumbling out of his door, the scout thumped against a solid wall. Picking himself up, he found himself in a small room with white walls, gray tiles and cold, bright light coming from some sort of panel in the ceiling. A metal table had some document folders, and a large window offered a view into a similarly featureless hallway. The window had the biggest and most perfect sheet of glass the changeling had ever seen, a luxury that seemed at odds with the rest of his spartan, sterile surroundings.
He exited through a metal door opposite the magical one he’d come from, and he cautiously moved down a hallway. There were no windows looking outside, making him wonder if he was underground or deep inside some sort of fortress. All the rooms and furniture were stretched vertically, as if made for very tall occupants.
A voice from nowhere almost made him jump out of his carapace. Weirdly distorted and mechanical, the voice intoned: “EMERGENCY - RADIATION - CONTAINMENT - TEAM - TO - SECTOR - D.” The scout froze, looking all around for the source of the voice, but found nothing. Since the voice had stopped speaking, he moved further down the hallway. He reached a burnt area where some sort of explosion had broken the wall and ceiling tiles and had exposed pipes and wires that sputtered and sparked threateningly. He eased past those and reached a corner. From around it he could hear voices. Very cautiously he peeked.
Three bipedal beings were in the room: one laying dead with blood spattered around it, and another being bandaged by the third. All were wearing white lab coats. The scout overheard the uninjured one say, “We should wait here for rescue. I’ve sent Gordon Freeman up to the surface to get help. With his hazardous environment suit, he just might make it.” An instant later tiles crashed down from the ceiling and pelted the two men. A ropy tentacle dropped down and snared the one who’d been performing first-aid. He screamed and flailed as it pulled him up and into the ceiling, while his companion crawled away. The screams suddenly stopped, and crunching sounds came from inside the ceiling.
The changeling scout had seen enough. This was most definitely not Equestria. He turned and scurried back toward his doorway to home, but a burst of light and sound in the hallway ahead cut him off. Another bipedal being appeared, though this one was green and hunched-over with a huge, red eye in the center of its face. It uttered some sort of unintelligible speech and flung bolts of green lightning at the scout. Shocked and burned, the scout shrieked and ran back toward the corner to try and find cover.
Changeling Scout No. 441
The scout watched as one of his comrades was carried on a rude stretcher, chitin scorched, twitching feebly. Scouts had come back frozen, poisoned, mauled, or simply terrified out of their wits. Others hadn’t returned at all.
“Scout number 441, you’re up!” called the commander. The scout approached with his head low. The commander pointed. “There’s your doorway. Good luck!'
The scout hesitated in front of the open door, trembling. The commander scowled, then a spark of green magic zapped out from his horn to sting the scout’s thigh, and the scout leapt forward into the doorway — and into the strangest adventure of them all.
Changeling Scout No. 518
The changeling commander escorted a pony to his queen. He saluted her and announced, “Scout number 518 reports success.”
The pony stepped forward and spoke, “I emerged from the doorway in a rural area. After a short search I encountered a pony and mimicked its form. I also brought back this evidence.” The disguised changeling tossed a pouch onto the ground, and Equestrian bits spilled out.
Queen Chrysalis smiled. “You have done well, scout.” She stood up and looked to the armored changeling. “Commander, begin gathering the hive to swarm! We’re going to Equestria!”
Changeling Scout No. 1
“This morning we have a photo from the Opportunity rover on Mars that’s been getting a lot of attention on the internet. This dark colored object in the sand is what some are calling the Martian Bug.”
“That really does look like an alien creature, Chet! You can see there’s what look like eye sockets and a sort of horn sticking up. Now, I understand this is only the latest example of Mars photos that look like objects or creatures that don’t belong there. First we had the notorious Face on Mars, as seen from orbit. Then, right after Opportunity landed, we had the Martian Slug, which turned out to be a piece of debris from the landing system. Since then sharp-eyed Mars watchers scouring over the flood of photos have turned up images that look like bigfoot, a human skull, a gecko, a flintlock pistol, and more.”
Chet nodded. “That’s right, Linda. NASA officials have taken it all with good humor, but they’ve explained that the wind and weather on Mars can sculpt rock formations into all sorts of unusual shapes, and that human beings naturally use their imagination to try and match those shapes with familiar ones. It’s all just a psychological quirk, a kind of extraterrestrial Rorschach test. Scientists are, actually, intrigued by the dark color and unusual placement of this particular mineral outcrop. However, it’s located part-way up the slope of a crater wall, and they can’t easily get Opportunity close enough to investigate it further. They’ve had to pass this one by.”
“Now coming up on the top of the hour. When we return we’ll have breaking news from the Middle East…”
Author's Note
This was a loose end that I knew I had to tie up.
And just for fun... If any of you would like to tell what happened to another scout (including #441), feel free to post their fate in the comments section!
01 - It was a Dark and Stormy Nightmare
This could be the longest night in recorded history And as for sleep, you might as well just cross it off the list of possibilities Now I’m as brave as the next mare I won’t turn and run from a fight And I could last a thousand years If I just get through this night
"You see, Nightmare Moon, when those elements are ignited by the… the spark, that resides in the heart of us all, it creates the sixth element: the element of magic!" Twilight Sparkle closed her eyes, and a brilliant white light burst forth directly above her. Its radiance forced her five friends to squeeze their eyes shut as well. Then the light erupted in a brilliant flash.
As magic surged through the ancient ruins, all six ponies were lifted into the air. The crystal shards from the broken elements swirled around them and coalesced around each one, forming into a jeweled, golden collar around each of the five friends, plus a diadem upon the head of Twilight Sparkle herself. Then the light burst upward, changing from white to all the colors of the rainbow. It formed two multi-colored ribbons that twined around each other, then came together into a single rainbow of light that surged downward — directly toward the dais where Nightmare Moon stood.
"NOOOOO!!" the Nightmare howled. Rearing up on her hind legs, eyes wide with fear, she screamed again as the rainbow of light surrounded her, spinning faster and faster until she was lost in a tornado-like vortex of brilliant color. For Nightmare Moon the rainbow was excruciating; it felt as though it was burning and ripping her apart.
Then the light grew brighter, until it flooded out all vision, all thoughts, all consciousness…
When the light cleared, stunned ponies were scattered about the room. Rainbow Dash was the first to rise from the floor. "Ohhh, my head!" she exclaimed.
Applejack roused and asked, “Everypony okay?"
Meanwhile, Nightmare Moon clambered to her hooves. The rainbow was gone, the pain faded away. Shaken, she muttered, "I… I thought that was the end, for a moment." She glanced around the chamber somewhat alarmed by how quickly the other ponies were recovering — and yet, they seemed to be ignoring her.
There was one additional. Confused and unsteady, Nightmare Moon walked closer to the midnight blue winged unicorn curled up on the floor next to the dais. Laying nearby were what appeared to be broken and smoldering remnants of Nightmare Moon's own armor. She blinked and looked down at herself, but found that she was still wearing her armor. She glanced at the smaller alicorn again, looking to the crescent moon on her flank. "But… that's my mark. That’s me. How is that possible?"
"It's not exactly you," said an unfamiliar voice from behind her. "It's the real Princess Luna, stripped of the dark powers that enabled her to become Nightmare Moon."
Nightmare Moon turned to look at the newcomer. The pegasus mare she saw was as elegantly proportioned as herself, or as Sola for that matter, though not as large. She was utterly monochromatic: her coat was white — not the slightly pink-tinted white of Sola, but more of an ashen, extremely pale gray. Her mane and tail — and surprisingly, her large wings — were as black as a raven. Even her eyes were deep charcoal gray, thickly outlined with black. Nightmare's gaze drifted to the strange pony's flank and saw a cutie mark resembling a sort of cross, with the top opened up to form a loop. It was an unfamiliar symbol, and yet Nightmare Moon felt she should know… "Who are you?" she demanded.
The strange pony shook her head and asked gently, "Don't you recognize me?"
"You… You're…" Then Nightmare Moon's eyes went wide, her nostrils flared with fear, and she recoiled. "No! Please no… not yet!"
The pegasus said, firmly, yet with a tone of compassion as well, “I come for all, in the fullness of time.”
Nightmare Moon looked to Luna. "I can't be dead! I'm right there. My body is breathing, it's alive."
Death nodded and said, “Yeah, that’s something I don’t see too often. Maybe only a part of Luna died. The part of her soul that turned her into a nightmare was killed, destroyed in the magical blast. It's an unusual sort of demise, but that's okay. I come for all kinds.”
Nightmare Moon hung her head, her wings drooped, all the fight gone out of her.
The sun broke over the horizon, spilling the light of a new dawn into the castle ruins. Twilight Sparkle’s voice chimed up, “Princess Celestia!”
Nightmare Moon looked up, her gaze settling on the radiant form of her sister, Sola, whose sun-loving little ponies now called her Celestia. The old anger began to simmer once again. Apparently Sola wasn’t content to rule the day, but had declared herself owner of the entire celestial sphere during her sister’s absence. Nightmare began to step forward, but a black wing interposed to stop her.
“Don’t bother!” advised Death. “They can’t see or hear you. And besides, the affairs of the living no longer concern you. It’s time to leave all that behind.”
Nightmare Moon said nothing but merely glared as her still-living counterpart, the much-reduced form of Princess Luna, ran to Sola and nuzzled her affectionately. After a few moments of this display, Nightmare could watch no more. She turned her attention to Death again and asked, "So… What happens now?”
Death smiled softly and said, “Oh, different things to different ponies. It depends who you are. And you never get to learn what happens to anyone else. But you? Well, you’re kind of a special case, anyway.”
“How do you mean?”
“Well… My brother has taken an interest in you. He wants to meet you. He asked me to bring you to his castle."
"Y-you have a brother?"
“You’ll see him soon. Come…”
Then Nightmare Moon was wrapped in darkness, and she heard the sound of mighty wings.
There is a wind that blows between the worlds — a cold wind. It screams silently through the empty places, the nothing wind, traveling from nowhere to nowhere in the uncreated wastes. Nightmare Moon had never felt so cold. This was not a place, after all. It was between places. This was nowhere.
After what might have been hours or might have been mere moments, the wind began dying back, signaling the transition from nowhere to where. The mists swirled and parted, and Nightmare Moon’s hooves touched ground. She found herself standing alongside Death in front of her brother’s castle, gasping and shivering, wondering if she would ever feel warm again.
The castle was high upon a rocky spire, an impossible pinnacle of twisted and weather-eaten rock with nothing but open air and sky all around. Its form was constructed from towers and minarets reaching upwards towards a murky, undefined sky.
The doorway was enormous, towering over them with stone abutments forming platforms on either side. Upon one of the platforms sat a gigantic griffin — easily the size of a house. Upon the other platform stood an equally gigantic white pegasus stallion with outsized wings and a muscular build like a draft horse. Up above the door, in front of some columns, was another platform upon which rested an even bigger red dragon. All of them looked menacing as they turned their eyes upon the comparatively tiny new arrivals below.
Nightmare Moon’s eye was drawn to the pegasus stallion. What a magnificent specimen, she thought to herself. He likewise gazed down at her from his perch with undisguised curiosity.
Death reared and waved cheerfully to the griffin with a wing and called to him, “Hey Griff! I’ve brought Nightmare Moon. My brother said he wanted to see her. Could you let us in, please?”
The giant griffin glared down at them, but then it bowed and rumbled, “Of course, lady. Enter, and my lord will greet you shortly.” Then the huge door swung open, silently.
Death and Nightmare Moon ascended the steps, their hooves clattering on the cold stones. They entered the great hall, and waited. Nightmare took advantage of these moments to look at her surroundings.
Long ago, before she’d rebelled and even before adopting her new persona as Nightmare Moon, Luna had whiled away many hours imagining and planning her new castle, the one she’d intended to have constructed after seizing the reins of power from her overweening sister. The new castle would be somber, with a dark dignity befitting the ruler of the Endless Night. Now, as she examined the elaborate gothic carvings and tapestries, shadowy alcoves, and the ceiling fresco where whimsically fleshed-out constellations cavorted in a night sky, she had an eerie feeling of déjà vu, as so many details reminded her of those long-ago and nearly-forgotten plans. This castle seemed to have everything she’d dreamed of.
Thus distracted, she didn’t notice when the castle’s lord entered the hall. His voice startled her as he said, “Welcome, my sister! It is good to see you again.”
“Likewise, Bro,” Death answered with a smile. “And look who I brought, it’s the pony you asked about. This is Nightmare Moon. Nightmare, this is my brother, Morpheus — also known as Lord of the Dreamworld, Prince of Stories, Monarch of the Sleeping Marches, His Darkness Dream of the Endless, Sultan of Sleep, and oh-so-many other stuffy titles and names, I don’t even try to keep track of them all.”
Nightmare Moon eyed the dream lord curiously. The family resemblance of this unicorn stallion to his pegasus sister was readily apparent. He stood tall and rake-thin, his coat the color of falling snow and and bone-white horn protruding through a disheveled mane of coal-black hair. His eyes seemed not like proper eyes at all, but mere pools of inky black shadows with a solitary sparkle of starlight glinting deep within each. A furtive glance at his cutie mark only brought confusion, as it seemed like some sort of grotesque face, or mask perhaps, with round eyes and an almost elephant-like trunk trailing from it.
Despite her confusion, Nightmare Moon’s royal upbringing asserted itself, and she knelt and said, “Lord Morpheus, I am honored to appear before you.”
“Indeed,” he said coolly. He began to circle her slowly, deliberately, examining her from all sides while she fidgeted nervously. After a few moments he stopped and pointed his horn at her and nodded, motioning for her to rise, which she did.
“Well then, you’re a mystery, aren’t you?” he finally said.
Nightmare Moon quirked an eyebrow. “I am?”
He explained, “It seems as though you have some of my essence in you. You have become a vessel for a fraction of my soul.”
Nightmare blinked her confusion. Death seemed almost as startled and asked, “How could that happen?”
“I am not sure,” admitted Morpheus, “but it has happened at least once before. Not too long ago Odin, All-Father of the Aesir, offered me the possession of a similar creature that he had discovered. Unfortunately, circumstances did not allow me to accept his offer, and I never had the opportunity to investigate the phenomenon further — until now.”
Nightmare Moon felt uncomfortable at being referred to as a phenomenon to be studied, particularly by such a mysterious and, she assumed, puissant being. “What… will you do with me?” she asked trepidly.
He looked at her and said, “You shall reside in my realm until I have determined your nature and decide your ultimate fate.” He considered for a moment and then said, “Nightmare Moon, I find your name suggestive. To begin with, you shall serve as one of my nightmares. As I observe how you perform this role, then perhaps your true nature shall be revealed.”
Nightmare glanced uncertainly towards Death. The pegasus shook her head and said, “Sorry, kiddo, but you don’t have a lot of options here. And I’ve got to admit, I’m curious about how you got a splinter of my brother lodged in you. You’d better stay with him and do as he says.” Then she flexed her wings and looked to her brother and said, “It looks like I’ve done my bit here. I should get back to my duties.”
Morpheus nodded distractedly and said, “Of course, Sister. Thank you, and fare well!” Death smiled and gave her head a toss, and then with a few flaps of her wings was gone.
Then he turned to consider Nightmare Moon again. They gazed at one another for a few moments, then Morpheus looked aside and called, “Lucien?”
Silently a giant owl, brown-feathered and golden-eyed with tufted ears and a pair of round-lensed glasses, flitted out of the shadows and alighted next to them. Standing upright it towered over both ponies. It spoke, “Yes, lord?”
He said, “Lucien, this is Nightmare Moon, formerly a ruling princess of Equestria. I bid you find her accommodation in the castle, for now, and help her settle into her new environs, as she is new to the Dreaming.”
Lucien nodded. “It shall be done, Lord.” Then to Nightmare Moon he said, “Would my lady prefer a brief tour of the castle before retiring to her quarters?”
Nightmare hesitated. “I had hoped to ask more questions of Lord Morpheus, if it would not be too great an imposition.”
Morpheus shook his head. “Later, perhaps. Lucien is knowledgeable in all matters pertaining to the castle, and much else besides. I am sure he can answer many of your questions.”
Nightmare Moon bowed again and said, “Thank you, Great Lord.” Then she followed Lucien as he led her through the great hall and then to a smaller corridor that diverged from it.
Lucien pondered. “Let me think now, where to begin… Let us go down the checklist, shall we?” Somehow, from somewhere, he produced a long scroll and a large, white, feather quill, which he held, somehow, with his wings. He squinted at the scroll through his glasses and said, “The castle is neither finite nor infinite, ever-changing and impossible to fully explore, but there are certain facilities and members of the staff that you should be aware of. The dining hall and kitchens, for example.” He gestured with a wing, inviting Nightmare Moon to precede him though an open portal.
She looked around the dining area, once again experiencing a sense of déjà vu. Everywhere she looked were elements that seemed to have been pulled from her past plans, from the castle she’d once dreamt of building and ruling from. She could see a few scattered beings of various types, not all of them ponies, eating or conversing at the tables.
She turned to Lucien and asked, “Do I even need to eat? I did die, after all.”
Lucien hmmed. “You retain the semblance of life. If you do not eat, you may not perish a second time, but I suspect you would become very hungry indeed. Most of us retain the habit of eating. Food is not only a means to sustain the body, after all. Furthermore, our kitchens can supply any sort of food or drink that is dreamt of, and it would be rather a shame not to partake.” He noticed a unicorn pony approaching, and gestured with his wing. “Ah, and here is Taramis, the head of our kitchen staff! Taramis, this is the lady Nightmare Moon.”
“I am at your service, ma’am!” said Taramis as he bowed before her. Nightmare Moon blinked and looked him over. His head seemed freakishly large even before considering the poofy white turban upon it. His draconic, slit-pupil eyes were much like her own, except that his were pink instead of cyan. A pair of sharp and very un-pony-like fangs protruded from his mouth, and a long, skinny, handlebar mustache gave him a comically sinister appearance, while a red waiter’s jacket only added to the surreality. His cutie mark, she noted, was an absinthe spoon and glass. There was an awkward pause while she made these observations, a void which Taramis filled by asking, “What may I bring out to you?”
“Err… Nothing just now, thank you! Lucien was merely acquainting me with the castle environs. I will surely return soon to sample your victuals, though.”
“Very good, ma’am.” He nodded with a somewhat creepy smile before returning to the kitchen. Particularly disturbing, Nightmare thought, was the way he seemed to slide or glide silently without moving his legs.
“Oily devil, isn’t he?” she commented to Lucien.
The owl only chuckled softly, but his head swiveled, his eyes focused elsewhere. He said, “Over there is another we should speak to.” She followed his gaze to a table where an unfamiliar creature sat, picking listlessly at its food — a large wooden bowl of flowers — with nimble forepaws. Her curiosity aroused, Nightmare Moon followed Lucien as he approached it. The sound of hooves caused the creature to look up for an instant, then it yeeped softly and turned its eyes toward the bowl again.
Lucian said, “Nuala, we have a guest. This is Nightmare Moon, formerly a Princess of Equestria.”
Upon hearing the word princess Nuala scrambled to her feet and then curtseyed low before Nightmare. “Your Royal Highness! I am at your service,” she said, with an anxious quaver in her voice. Nightmare Moon took the opportunity to examine Nuala more closely, still trying to figure out what exactly she was. Despite the unfamiliarity of her species, she gave a most definite impression of youth and femininity. She was small, bipedal, flat-faced, her pale skin mostly bare, although a disheveled brown mane topped her head and pointy ears poked outward from it. She wore only a tatty pink shift-dress and a simple jewel pendant.
Nightmare lowered her muzzle and sniffed at Nuala — who trembled slightly. Then Nightmare said, “Nuala… We have not seen a being such as thyself before. What art thou, pray tell?” Speaking to an obviously subservient creature, she’d thoughtlessly slipped back into her archaic mode of speech — forgetting for a moment that this being, however humble, wasn’t her subject.
Without looking up, Nuala muttered something too softly to be understood.
Nightmare narrowed her eyes and commanded, “Speak up!”
Nuala cringed and spoke, although still quite softly, saying, “I’m a fairy.” There was silence for a moment until she glanced up and saw Nightmare Moon’s dragon eyes still glaring at her, waiting for further explanation. She hurried to add, “An elf, yah? A pixie, a sprite, a puck…”
Nightmare Moon’s eyes widened as she made the connection. “An elf?” Her thoughts whirled back to faded memories of misty moons ago — bedtime stories she’d heard in a more innocent age, when she was a small filly. Her mother had told stories about the ponies of Dream Valley and the many fantastic creatures they encountered during their adventures: sea ponies, bush woolies, troggles, stratodons, humans, witches and elves.
After a few awkward moments of silence, Nightmare Moon blinked away her reverie and finally said, ”We have heard of thy kind in ancient tales, but never lent them any credence.”
“Oh.” Nuala looked down at her hands for a moment. Then she looked up again with a hint of curiosity on her face and asked, “But what about Lucien? He’s an elf… sort of. Partly, I think.”
Nightmare glanced at Lucien and snorted, softly. “We do not see the resemblance. He is an owl. We have owls back in Equestria, although none of them are quite so large.” Then she blinked as she heard Nuala giggling. “What?”
Nuala stifled her mirth and said, “I’m sorry, but… an owl? He doesn’t look like an owl to me. He looks like a really tall man with pointy ears.”
Nightmare blinked and looked to Lucien again. “Man?”
Lucien cleared his throat and said, “Perhaps I can resolve your confusion. Visitors to the Dreaming often see things differently. This is a realm of symbolic meaning, and everything you perceive is filtered through your own experience. You perceive me as an owl because an owl is a creature you know and, to your unconscious mind, seems an appropriate symbol for my role or personality.”
Nightmare Moon frowned for a moment as she pondered the implications. “And Lord Morpheus?”
Lucien said, “I presume you saw him as one of your own kind?”
Nightmare nodded, which prompted a giggle from Nuala. “Lord Dream as a horse!” she exclaimed. “I wish I could see that.”
“A HORSE?” Nightmare Moon’s face contorted with rage as she turned on the elf. “How dare thee! Insolent foal, dost thou take us for a filthy, brute beast?” She raised a metal-shod hoof as if to strike at Nuala, who cowered whimpering in abject fear.
Lucien intervened, stretching a wing in front of Nightmare Moon. “Please, please calm yourself!” he begged. “She meant no insult. There are no ponies like you in the world she came from. She knew no other word for you.”
Nightmare held back the blow, and then lowered her hoof to the floor again as she realized her mistake. Still looking at Nuala she said, “Of course. Thou dost see me as a creature from thine own experience, just as we perceive Lucien to be an owl. But… If that is true, then why do we not perceive thy form as one familiar to us from Equestria?”
“I… I’m not sure,” Nuala admitted.
“If I might offer an explanation,” Lucien interjected. “Nuala here, like yourself, is not native to the Dreaming. She was not created from dreamstuff by Lord Morpheus, but rather is a recent immigrant from the Seelie Court of Elphame. Her identity as a fairy remains intact, and that is how we all perceive her.”
“How interesting,” Nightmare commented drily. “In that case, Nuala, why didst thou call us a horse? What do we look like to thee?”
“I’m sorry!” Nuala said again, fidgeting. “You don’t really look like a horse; you look like a sort of… um… well, you’ve got a horn like a unicorn, and wings like a pegasus, and big serpent’s eyes, and your mane is all, um… like a dark cloud with stars in it, and I’ve never seen anything like you before, and I didn’t know what else to call you.”
“So… We do appear to others as a pony after all. That is a relief, we… err, I suppose. This is all more complicated than I expected. It seems I have much to learn,” Nightmare admitted. She tossed her head and said, “Shall we continue the tour?”
Lucien said, “In a moment, if you please. The reason I introduced you to Nuala is because I presume you will want a maid to attend you during your stay in the castle. Nuala is, I believe, presently unencumbered by other duties.”
Nuala curtseyed before Nightmare Moon again and said, “If it pleases you, ma’am!”
“Very well, Nuala. We… I shall send for you when I settle into my room.”
“Oh!” exclaimed Nuala. “I can set about preparing it while you continue the tour.”
Nightmare Moon nodded assent, and Lucien added, “An excellent idea.” The elf grabbed a handful of flowers from the table and scurried out of the dining hall and out of sight. Nightmare and Lucien followed at a more leisurely pace. As they walked, Lucien moved closer to Nightmare Moon’s ear and said, softly, “A word of advice, Lady. Nuala is much liked around the castle. I do not believe Lord Morpheus would take kindly if she were abused in any way — nor, frankly, would I.”
Nightmare Moon gritted her teeth and said only, “Your advice is noted.”
Lucien marked the dining hall off his checklist and then led Nightmare Moon into another wing of the castle, into a room with racks of clothes. There were mirrors and a number of doors leading into dressing rooms. “Here we have the wardrobe department. Or perhaps I should say costume department. The Dreaming is as much theater as anything else, you know. The vast majority of inhabitants are, for lack of a better word, actors, and actors must have costumes.”
A feminine voice called out, “Lucien, who is this visitor you’ve brought to see me? Do introduce us, darling!” The one who had spoken stepped out from the racks of clothing and approached them. It appeared to be a sky blue pony with a choppy, rainbow-streaked mane and tail.
Before Lucien could speak, Nightmare Moon did a double-take, blinking confusedly at the blue pony. “Rainbow Dash??” she blurted.
The blue pony blinked back at her. “Beg pardon? My dear, I am the Mad Goth Witch — or as some in the castle insist upon calling me, the Fashion Thing.”
Nightmare Moon looked closer and saw that the Fashion Thing differed from Rainbow Dash in several ways. This pony was much older, skin sagging and wrinkled, colorful coat and mane streaked with gray. She had no visible wings, and she wore a patch covering her right eye, and a black witch’s hat upon her head. Much of her body, including her cutie mark (if, indeed, she had one) was concealed by a stark black dress, and black fishnet stockings extended to all four legs, and her neck bore an elaborate pewter necklace. Nightmare peered and then said, coolly, “It would appear that I was mistaken.”
“Oh, it’s quite all right, darling!” said the Fashion Thing. “You are new to the Dreaming, yes? It can certainly play its little tricks on the minds of the unwary. You’ll let used to it soon enough, I’ve no doubt.”
Lucien said, “Quite so. In any event… Maddie, this is Nightmare Moon, formerly a ruling princess of Equestria.”
The Fashion Thing gasped, her one visible eye going wide. “A princess! Oh, it’s not often I have the chance to fit royalty! Lord Morpheus is a dear, but you know, he’s almost painfully indifferent to my efforts. Darling, you simply must let me prepare you an entire wardrobe! And I’m sure I could do something with that old armor…”
Nightmare scowled and said, “I’m rather attached to this old armor, just as it is.”
The Fashion Thing tapped her chin with a hoof for a moment, seemingly lost in thought, then perked up. “Ideeeea!!” she sang out. “I know just the thing. Wait right here! I’ll be back in a flash, Darling!” Then she darted off into the aisles of clothing.
Nightmare Moon asked Lucien, “Is she always like that?”
“I’m afraid so,” he said. “She has her little enthusiasms. She’s been the Mad Mod Witch, the Mad Punk Witch, the Mad Madonna Witch, even the Mad Yuppie Witch. Which is why we finally gave up and started simply calling her the Fashion Thing.”
They listened to the sounds of her rummaging around and cursing under her breath as she searched for who-knows-what article of clothing. Nightmare Moon said, “I have no desire to linger here and be harried by that harridan. Let us continue the tour!”
“Hmm, yes. I suppose you’re right. Come along then!” Lucien led her out of the wardrobe department and on down the hallway.
As they walked together Nightmare Moon said, “When Sola’s foalish little minions used the Elements of Harmony on me, I thought I would be destroyed completely.”
Lucien said, “Perhaps you were. The dream realm is one of unreality, filled with myths, fictional characters, impossibilities and all manner of things that do not exist. Perhaps you would have found your way here even if our lord had not asked his sister to guide you to him.”
“What am I, then? A ghost?”
“If even that… But there will always be a place for you here, as long as someone, somewhere, still dreams of Nightmare Moon — as long as the idea of Nightmare Moon has a grip on the hearts of the living.” He paused and pondered for a moment, then said, “Did you know that Celestia made a holiday devoted to you? It’s called Nightmare Night. There is considerable lore about you in the library.”
She blinked, then peered doubtfully at Lucien. “Did she? That seems rather unlikely.”
“Oh yes. According to the tales, you return to Equestria once a year to hunt down and devour young fillies and colts. They are expected to disguise themselves and make offerings of candy to placate you.”
Nightmare Moon gawped, her jaw hanging open for a moment. Then she scowled and said, “That’s horrible! I knew Sola hated me, but I never imagined she would paint me as such a monster.” She went silent as she pondered the implications of Equestria suffering under such misrule for a thousand years — and perhaps thousands more to come. She fumed, “This is intolerable. I must find a way to return to Equestria.”
A shadow passed across Lucien’s face, and he said, “It is not meet for the dead to walk in the land of the living. And besides, the only ways out of the dreaming are through the two gates controlled by Lord Morpheus.”
Nightmare Moon frowned and said, “I didn’t come through any gate to get here.”
“Lady Death brought you, and she travels where she will. Dreamers likewise find their own way into the Dreaming and then back to their scattered bodies when they awaken. But you are an inhabitant of the Dreaming now. The gates are the only way out for you.”
“I see,” said Nightmare Moon. However, as Lucien turned to lead her down the corridor again, she muttered under her breath, “…but I just might know another way.”
“Ah, here we are!”, said Lucien as he tucked his checklist and quill away somewhere in his feathers. “The library. My library, I’m proud to say.” They had come to a pair of wooden doors, one of which had a parchment tacked up that read:
The Library of Dreams
The management cannot be held responsible for anything lost or found within.
Signed,
Lucien
Chief Librarian
He pulled a key out from, seemingly, behind his ear, and unlocked the wooden double doors, and commented, “Alas, I must keep the library locked when it’s unattended, lest any of the books get loose.” He gestured for her to enter, then followed her inside.
Nightmare Moon looked about with undisguised wonder. Bookshelves seemed to extend in all directions, including towards the sky. “So many books… How big is this library?”
The owl answered proudly, “It’s the largest library that never was. Here we have every book that an author dreamed of writing but, for whatever reason, never actually got around to. We also have a wing full of books that never existed, but were described or referred to in works of fiction. And then of course, we also have a section full of lost works.”
A puzzled frown crossed Nightmare Moon’s face, and she asked, “Lucien, how do you have time to manage this? Are you not majordomo for Lord Morpheus?”
Lucien removed his glasses for a moment to clean the lenses with the feathers of his wing. As he squinted at them he replied, “Of late, yes. My responsibilities have greatly expanded over the last few years. We are desperately short-staffed here in the castle, and most of the staff have to fulfill multiple duties. But the library is still mine, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
“Indeed?”
“Oh yes! Most people don’t realize how important librarians are. I ran across a book recently which suggested that the peace and prosperity of a culture was solely related to how many librarians it contained. Possibly a slight overstatement, but a culture that doesn’t value its librarians doesn’t value ideas, and without ideas, well, where are we?”
“I see… So, if I am to understand, you have books here that don’t exist. What about ones that do exist in the real world?”
“Well of course, any book that is dreamed of can be found here, but one cannot always guarantee that the text is accurate in its conformance to the editions of the waking world — dreams being the shifty things that they are, you know.”
Nightmare gazed up at the towering stacks and then smiled slyly and asked, “You said there was lore about me?”
“Oh yes! I’m quite sure there is. We also have some volumes you thought about writing, during the course of your mortal life. Let’s see… Over here, I think. He strode a short way down the aisle, then with his beak plucked out a volume with a thick black jacket. Holding it (somehow) with his wing he gazed at the cover and nodded. “The Story of the Beautiful and Powerful Black Alicorn who Always Wins and is Loved By All, as related by Princess Luna. Hmm. Well, I’m sure you would have come up with a catchier title if you’d stuck with it.”
Nightmare’s horn glowed as she floated the book out of Lucien’s grasp and opened it. She blinked and peered more closely. “What’s this? I can’t read anything in this book, the words are all a jumble.”
“Oh my! Oh gracious! I forgot about that. For a long time now Lord Morpheus has decreed that dreamers are unable to read in the Dreaming. Something about too much information making it back to the waking world, things they weren’t meant to know and all that. Anything more than a couple of words turns into a meaningless mess when they try to read it. All the staff here in the castle are exempt from that effect, of course. And so should you be. Just a moment…”
He went over to a desk and picked up a bookmark with a cord looped in one end, then took a quill pen in wing (somehow) and scribbled on the bookmark. He said, “This library pass should do the trick.” Then he reached up and hung the cord over the end of Nightmare Moon’s horn.
Her eyes focused on the bookmark dangling from her horn. “You’ve got to be kidding.”
“It’s no joke,” he said. He reached with his wing and gave the card a push, causing it to slide down her horn — and then vanish into her forehead. “Now you should be able to read anything. Try the book again!”
She shot him a skeptical glance, then floated the book in front of her eyes again. After a moment she nodded. “Yes… Yes, I can read it now. How interesting.” She was quiet for several long moments as her eyes skimmed back and forth across the page, while Lucien waited patiently. Then she flipped forward a few pages and read some more. “It does read like something I might have written when I was a filly.” She continued reading for a minute longer and then admitted, “It really is rubbish, isn’t it?”
“I wasn’t going to say so,” Lucian answered. He glanced at the shelves and then said, “We have several stories about Nightmare Night here as well.”
She floated the tome back to him and said, “Yes. I would rather like to review those.”
One pot amongst the multitude of earthen vessels,
— Isaiah 45:9
Low on the horizon a portly moon spilled golden light across the mirror-smooth water only to be broken in myriad shimmers by the wake of a silently gliding ship carved from crystal glass. Its sails were midnight blue, and a pony of like color rested upon the noble prow, her silver-clad hooves hanging over the railing. Gazing downward at the stars reflected in the water, she smiled softly. Her reflection smiled back. Her decorative collar was black, emblazoned with a crescent moon that matched the mark upon her hip. A mane of soft, periwinkle blue hair poured out from under her hat, which curiously enough seemed to be improvised from a folded map.
A voice called out from somewhere aft, “What course, Commodore Luna?”
Luna lifted her head and called back over her shoulder, “Second star to the right, Captain Saltheart, and then straight on ’til morning!”
A shadow passed overhead, unnoticed but for the ever-so-soft ruffle of feathers, followed by a clatter of shod hooves upon the deck. Luna whirled about and gasped, wide-eyed, at the dark, armored figure. “No…”
Nightmare Moon furled her wings and stepped forward. “Luna… I’m pleased that you are still alive.”
Luna pushed back against the railing, backed into a corner. “No, this can’t be! You… You’re me. But I’m not like that anymore. This is only a bad dream.”
Nightmare nodded. “Tis a dream, but I bid you not awaken. We need to speak, you and I.” As if to convey that she’d come in peace, Nightmare Moon sat on her haunches upon the deck of the crystal ship.
For some moments the two dark alicorns sized one another up; the waving of Nightmare’s starry mane and tail was the only motion. The moon hung large in the sky, waiting for their next move.
Although Luna’s heart still pounded, a spark of curiosity began to assert itself. She licked her dry lips and then ventured, “I thought the Elements of Harmony destroyed you.”
Nightmare Moon answered softly, “I’m not exactly sure what I am now, but I still have some shadow of existence here in the world of dreams. And what of you?” Before Luna could formulate a response, Nightmare’s horn glowed. Luna flinched, but the aura merely lifted her paper hat and floated it closer to Nightmare Moon, who shook her head sadly. “Is this your new crown? Have those corrupted elements reverted you to fillyhood?”
“It’s not like that! I mean, it’s sort of like that… but Celestia thinks I’ll regain my size and power as I recover.”
Nightmare’s eyes narrowed. “You call her Celestia? You know what that name means.”
“She’s ruled over Equestria — day and night — by herself for a thousand years, so I think she’s earned it. And she hasn’t done such a bad job.”
Nightmare hissed, “She hasn’t…” Then she caught herself, and asked in a calmer tone, “Really? I didn’t get to see much of modern Equestria before being blasted to oblivion.”
“It’s… Nice. I mean, Celestia’s had a millennium to shape Equestria in her own image. You know how she is. It’s all sweetness and light, knowledge and reason.”
Nightmare scowled. “Yes, she was always so devoted to reason. She never appreciated instincts, myths and dreams. And she had no qualms about writing us out of history, except for select bits of slander.”
Luna took a deep breath and said, “Why are you here? Why rehash all of this now? What’s done is done, the world has moved on without you, without us. You should just fade away and leave me in peace.”
Nightmare Moon frowned and looked down at her hooves for a moment. Then she looked to Luna again, her brow furrowed with deep concern. “This is all acceptable to you? Being so diminished in power and stature, becoming Sola’s overlooked shadow once more? Does your heart no longer blaze with the outrage of what she’s done to you? A thousand years…”
“It wasn’t her fault!” Luna had raised her voice and flared her wings. “It was your fault! It was your jealousy and anger and cruelty and madness! You were never going to let the sun shine on Equestria again!”
So startled was Nightmare Moon by the fury in Luna’s accusation, she scooted back a little. Her mouth worked futilely as she tried to find words, then she blurted, “How can you say that? I’m you! You can’t really blame yourself.”
“I can! I’m the one who invented you, I dreamt you up, and you were the worst idea I ever had. I thought you’d bring me respect and admiration, but all I’ve gotten is misery and regrets.”
Nightmare Moon stood up on all fours. “No. I see what’s happened. The Elements of Harmony… They did more than weaken you. They’ve brainwashed you too! They’ve sapped your will, twisted your thoughts.” She began walking closer to Luna.
Luna’s confidence faltered, and she backed into the corner again. “St-stay back!” Then she glanced past the black alicorn and shouted, “CAPTAIN SALTHEART, WE HAVE AN INTRUDER! CALL THE CREW TO REPEL BOARDERS!”
Nightmare Moon snarled, “Captain Saltheart isn’t here. He’s dead! He’s a thousand years gone, just like every other friend and follower you ever had — thanks to your sister! Did you forget that? You don’t even know anypony you can dream about who isn’t lost in the mists of time.”
Luna whimpered and squeezed shut her eyes. But in a moment she felt hooves embracing her muzzle on either side — gently, tenderly. She opened her eyes and found herself staring into Nightmare Moon’s.
“I don’t want to hurt you, Luna. I know the real you must be in there somewhere: your pride, your ambition, your righteousness. I don’t know what Sola did to the Elements, but you’re too strong to let them beat you. You’ve got to fight them! I’ll help you any way I can.”
Luna seemed to waver with indecision for a long moment. Then she lashed out with her hooves, pushing Nightmare Moon’s aside. Another hard strike to the chest plate of Nightmare’s armor shoved her back. Luna’s horn flared with magic and she shrieked, “My mind is clear! You’re the one who’s sick. But you’re nothing. Nothing! You’re only a stupid idea that I carried too far. I’m still Princess of the Night, and I still have power in dreams, and I don’t have to put up with phantasms the likes of you!”
The silvery light burst from Luna’s horn, spearing Nightmare’s sensitive eyes. She flinched and tried to shield herself with an arm. She cried out, “No, wait! Please!”
A wave of magic expanded out from Luna, and Nightmare Moon was gone — blown away just like a leaf on the wind.
17 - The Citadel: Round 1
After conferring briefly, Nightmare Moon and Reconnoiter agreed on a plan. “Hero” alone would harry the troggle raiding party and slow their retreat to the castle. Meanwhile, the pegasus scouts would return to the main resistance force and guide them in a rapid advance to overtake the troggles.
They began to retrace their flight path, flying in formation for a short distance, but soon Nightmare Moon caught a glimpse of the troggle column, and she broke off from the others. She circled high above the enemy, briefly considering how best to delay them.
Not an attack from above, not this time. An ambush! She closed her eyes and gathered her dark powers, and she vanished into a swirling black cloud. The black mist filtered downward and settled into the grass by the trailside where the troggles’ column was approaching.
The sky darkened, not to the dark of midnight, but to an ominous gloom that felt like a storm approaching. The troggles instinctively moved faster, scurrying toward the safety of their fortress. A red moon hung low over the horizon and watched their movements with passive disdain.
Then the storm broke; explosions erupted on all sides. Dazzling flashes of light and blasts of sound rang their ears and thumped through their chests, and the troggles screamed and dived for whatever cover they could find on the open plain: squeezing under their carts full of plunder, eating dirt between tufts of grass, or scrambling in confusion to hide behind one another.
A few of them managed to fire their staff-weapons, sending bolts of magic outward in random directions toward imagined foes. The rate of fire soon increased, with troggles laying upon their backs, holding up their staves at arm’s length and chanting the command word, repeatedly discharging the spells without even a token attempt at aiming. The vast majority of bolts fired either dissipated harmlessly into the dark sky or impacted the ground nearby and exploded into a cyan-blue fireball, adding to the chaos.
Inevitably, by chance, one of the spell bolts hit a patch of black mist. The mist recoiled, stung, and the sound and fury of battle lapsed for a few moments. Nightmare Moon was unable to voice her pain in this form, but the sudden strike had broken her concentration on the spell. Her mist form was immune to most physical attacks, but magic could still strike her.
She gritted her teeth — figuratively, at least — and resumed her shock-and-awe assault on the senses of the troggles. However, one of their officers had taken the opportunity to begin issuing orders to his troops, urging them to advance. He shouted in the guttural language of trolls: “GET UP AND ROXOR TEH PONES!!!11”
Cowering, a troggle yelled back, “SCREW U I QUYTI”
“SHUT PU!! U WANKER ASS UR SCARED OF FIREWORSK” He grabbed one by the arm and dragged him out from under the wagon and pushed him forward. “MOVE!! GRUMBAD MOVE U ASS! WOITOG SKUMSOG GO ROXXOR TEH PONEFAGS!!!1”
The fact that none of them were injured was beginning to sink in, and a few of them began to pick up their weapons and trudge forward. Eerily lit by flashes of magical lightning, they hunched forward as if marching into a blowing rain.
Nightmare Moon retreated slowly, her black mist flowing on the ground, and she tried dazzling those in the lead with blasts of light and sound almost in their piggy faces. It gave them pause, but the troggles were tough if nothing else. They started firing into the pool of mist on the ground, forcing it to retreat rapidly while the bombardment of magical thunder and lightning ceased.
A safe distance away, the mist gathered and coalesced into the form of Nightmare Moon. She stumbled, gasping in pain, while a couple of feathers fell from her disheveled wings. Any one of those spells would have laid a normal pony out flat, and even she had difficulty withstanding multiple hits from them. She had delayed the advance of the troggles, but not enough. She needed to stall them much longer. A new strategy was called for.
She shook her wings, getting them into better order, then strode forward toward the troggles. As soon as they caught a glimpse, they began firing their staff-weapons. Many of them missed (they were still lousy shots, even when they could see their target) but even those few bolts which were well-aimed merely impacted on a flickering magical shield. Nightmare advanced calmly, displaying her disdain for the hostile magic.
She couldn’t cast offensive spells of her own while her shield was up — but the troggles didn’t need to know that, did they? Intimidated, they began backing up again, and they stopped shooting when they saw it was having no effect.
They were joined by the same officer who’d been shouting orders before. “WTF NOOBS??/ U GOTTA GET PSAT HER GO GO GO!!!11”
Nightmare Moon spread out her wings and called back, “None shall pass!” She lowered her head, pointing her horn at them threateningly, and stepped forward. Her shield increased in power, becoming visible as a translucent bubble of midnight blue magic.
The troggle officer stood and stared at her and stewed for a few moments, turning over his options in his mind until he had formulated a cunning plan. He turned his head and shouted over his shoulder: “GO GO GO!! CHARGE AT HER!!!”
“RAAAAHHH!!!” yelled the troggles as the charged forward with spears clutched tightly in their hands.
Nightmare Moon snorted and pawed at the ground, tossing her head. “We said, NONE SHALL PASS!” The sonic force of her shout pushed the troggles back for an instant. They rallied, but then they ran into her shield, which was much like running into a brick wall.
“FUXOR!!!” yelled the troggles.
Nightmare Moon could be many things: sometimes subtle and deceptive, other times terrifying. Now she pulled another trick out of her sleeve: brute strength. Her hooves sunk into the earth with each step as her muscles flexed. Her shield combined with the physical power of the strongest earth pony to form a gigantic bulldozer, slowly but inexorably pushing the mass of troggles back in the direction they’d come from.
The officer struggled with his back against the shield, trying to slow its advance to no effect whatsoever. He yelled, “GET AROUDN FLANK HER!!!”
Behind the advance guard, the rest of the column had continued to advance, and more and more troggles streamed into the area Nightmare Moon was facing. They began working their way around on both sides. She widened her shield, but in the open plain there was nothing to keep her foes from surrounding her.
Without warning she dropped the shield and leapt into the sky, and, without missing a beat, grabbed the troggle captain with her magic. She lifted him up with her as she ascended. He squealed and flailed his limbs, trying in vain to fight her telekinetic grip. “LEMME GO LEMME GO!” he yelled.
“Let thee go? Art thou sure?” A poorly-aimed spell bolt flashed past.
The troggle looked down. “AAAAAAHHHH DONT LTE GO!!!!111”
“Oh, why can they never make up their tiny minds?” Nightmare released her aura, and the troggle fell, shrieking. His strangled cry was cut short by a sickening thump upon the ground.
She wheeled on pinioned wings and swooped down through the ranks of the troggles. A blast of wind, almost a shock wave, tinted blue with her magical aura, knocked troggles off their feet and even hurled many of them through the air. After she’d passed through, she turned to admire the chaos in her wake, and giggled.
She flapped, picking up altitude again. A stun bolt from the ground flashed past, close enough to sting, but she disregarded it. She turned slowly, eyes scanning the horizon. The castle was near enough that she could see more troggles boiling out from the front drawbridge, coming to aid their comrades. In the opposite direction were the trailing elements of the troggle column; some carts full of plunder were abandoned and left behind, though most of the troggles clung stubbornly to their ill-gotten bags and bundles.
There was something else moving on the horizon, though, silhouetted against the gloomy sky. The shadow yelled out a battle cry: “HARUNA!”
Nightmare Moon grinned and used her magic to lighten the sky. The battle was truly on now, and the pony forces would need to be able to see. Dominus Tusk swung his mace left and right, knocking troggles bodily through the air — and those it connected with rarely got up to fight again. Ponies charged into battle alongside him, almost like colorful puppies scurrying around the feet of the huge minotaur.
Each of the three pony races had their own battle tactics. The pegasi had foregone their traditional lances, used for aerial battles against one another. Facing a purely earthbound foe, they preferred to pick up heavy objects and drop them upon the heads of the enemy. Against the troggles, this tactic quickly revealed its limitations. The grassy plain offered few stones to use as ammunition, so that most of what they carried aloft was detritus the troggles themselves had discarded as they rushed toward their citadel. Swooping in low was risky, exposing them to fire from the magical staff-weapons. A pegasus at higher altitude was harder to hit, but this made accurate aiming difficult for the pegasus as well — and any unlucky enough to be stunned by a spell when flying at higher altitudes risked a nasty fall. Seeking a compromise, most of their bombing formations flew into the battle between 30 and 50 yards above the ground.
The unicorns were lightly armored, dodging and depending on distance and shield spells to protect themselves as they fired various magical effects toward the enemy. The basic military spells were shields, telekinesis and healing. Beyond these, each unicorn had spells aligned with his special talent, but the applicability of these to the battlefield varied wildly. The resulting unpredictability of their spell effects spread confusion in the enemy ranks. Troggles found themselves trying to stand on slippery ground, or uncontrollably dancing a jig, or dazzled by illusions.
Even so, earth ponies carried the brunt of the attack. Their armor was the heaviest, and their sturdy helms served as both protection and their primary weapons. All the helms were horned, but these were not the purely decorative horns of troggle helmets. These were strong, sharp horns that could be used as weapons to hook and jab, to toss, or even to gore the enemy. Some had horns like rams, others like bulls, and some had a single horn affixed like that of a unicorn. A charging earth pony was nearly unstoppable, and once having entered into the fray they became dangerous at both ends, fighting equally with their horned helms and powerful kicks.
Based solely on their reputation, Nightmare Moon had expected the troggles to be little more than a mob: dangerous to civilians but undisciplined and unskilled in martial arts. This expectation had been shattered. They knew how to form a defensive line, and their retreat toward the castle was orderly. Moreover, their staff-weapons were effective to forty or fifty yards, with each blast capable of stunning a pony — or even two if they were close enough together. The spell itself did no permanent harm, but any stunned pony who was overrun and claimed by the troggles faced a dire fate.
The troggles fought, and they gave ground, but Dominus Tusk was soon in trouble. His size, which made him so intimidating on the battlefield, also made him an easy target for the staff-weapons. A single blast wasn’t enough to drop him, but multiple hits soon took their toll, and he was forced to rest on bended knee while the pony troops pushed past him. A unicorn medic stopped to cast healing spells and try to get him back into the fight.
Nightmare Moon hit the troggles with more low-level attack runs, swooping so low that she clonked some of their helmets with her hooves as she passed over. It was the blast of wind from her wings that bowled over most of the troggles, though, breaking up their lines and formations. Once… twice… thrice… Her speed made her a difficult target, but then a lucky shot from a staff-weapon detonated upon her left wing and sent her tumbling to the ground.
Her back thudded hard when she bounced off a large clump of basket grass, and wiry blades of the tough grass lashed at her as she skidded to a stop. She tried to move, but then panic… She couldn’t breathe! She heaved, her mouth gulping like a fish for air, but none came. All she could do was lie on her back and struggle. After what seemed like minutes — but was surely much less — she began to get shallow, rapid breaths. Weakly she rolled upright, her disabled wing flopping useless at her side, only to find several troggles cautiously closing in. Their caution proved their undoing, as it had given Nightmare Moon the precious moments she needed to recover from her tumble. Bolts of lightning flared out from her horn and knocked the troggles flat, then she clambered to her feet and began stumbling and fighting her way back toward her allies.
The surge of fresh troops from the citadel turned the tide. They advanced past the flanks of their retreating comrades, then closed up ranks behind them and defended while the rest of the raiding party carried their booty, and their wounded, to the castle.
Nightmare Moon made her way back to Dominus Tusk. “Our opportunity is slipping away,” she observed. “Can you get up and fight?”
“I think so, thanks to these healers,” he said, and used his mace as support while rising heavily to his feet.
She nodded and then looked around and called out loudly, “Chevalier, are you here? Let us rally for another assault to break them!”
Chevalier made his presence known with a loud whinny, rearing up and pawing the air dramatically. Ponies all around disengaged from the enemy and pulled back long enough to reform their ranks, and then they charged. Not trusting her still-numb wing enough to fly, Nightmare Moon charged along with them, and Dominus Tusk was close by.
By this time, though, the raiders were already hauling their loot up the gangplank at the front of the castle, while the fresher troops stood ready to defend. It seemed this clash of arms would happen in the very shadow of the castle ramparts.
Before their lines met, however, a sharp-eyed pegasus yelled out: “ARROWS! TAKE COVER!”
A glance upward was all the confirmation the ponies needed, when they saw a dark cloud of arrows arcing over from the castle’s ramparts. The charge skidded to a halt as unicorns — along with Nightmare Moon — cast shields overhead. All along the line arrows clattered like hail upon magical force shields, but not every pony had been covered, and there were squeals and neighs of shock and pain.
The troggles on the ground fired a final volley of spells, then rapidly embarked up the gangplank into the castle while another barrage of arrows kept the ponies pinned under their shields.
Chevalier gnashed his teeth in frustration and then yelled: “RETREAT! RETREAT!” Under cover of their shields, the pony force pulled back.
Dominus Tusk snorted and shook a mighty fist at the castle. “Dominus Tusk knows not the meaning of retreat!”
From somewhere Derpy fluttered over and grabbed his arm with her forelegs, and tugged. “It means run away!” she explained helpfully.
The giant minotaur grumbled. “Dominus Tusk likes that even less, but it seems I have no choice.” Reluctantly he followed, the last to leave the field of battle, pursued only by the cheers, jeers and laughter of the troggles.
