Chapter 34: Spirits
The world softly rolls and shakes, as if on a boat carried along on the waves of a great sea. The few remaining candles splutter with every utterance that disturbs the wafting incense hanging in the air. A lone voice speaks as though through a wet cloth, "The Rubric of Sanctimony collapsed, the Athame is in the hands of the sixteenth, we are now known to him, and the warrior lodge will surely be under suspicion now that he hasn't been convinced or killed. So, do tell me, how is this anything but an abject failure?"
A disembodied voice, slick like oil and wine replies with the faintest hint of amusement, "I told you to plan for all possible eventualities, Erebus. This was such a case, and thus, your fault. You should have known that nothing regarding Horus Lupercal is ever a certainty."
The rasping voice continue, pushing itself hoarse, "The Primordial Powers will not be denied, Kor Phaeron. It is a truth that is self evident." His voice falters, falling into a coughing fit and ending with a sucking breath as he spits out a wad of bloody phlegm.
The elder priest's reply is a calming laugh that would provoke ire in others, but only felt like a balm to the those present. All, perhaps, save Erebus himself.
The last gargled rasp of the next supplicant passes as another candle fades, his lifeblood spilling onto the grated metal floor. "As I said, there are eventualities that had to be planned for. Horus Lupercal is but one force that is now in motion. The board is set and the game has started. There is no turning back; to balk from this is to fail, and as you said 'the Powers will not be denied.' They will not allow us to stop, we can not stop-"
"Yes," Erebus replies, dragging a dagger over the metal floor, creating a silver glint in the gathered gloom. "But while we may be strong enough to defeat Gulliman or the Lion, how are we to do so with the Lupercal and the Cyclops baying for our blood? There will be no respite. They are relentless. How are we to stand against the legions of the Warmaster and Anathema, both?"
"Have you learned nothing of predators?" Kor Phaeron goads, easily ignoring the hiss of irritation from the cross-legged figure at the center of his ritual circle. "There will always be blood spilled to settle their fight for dominance. Let the wolves fight among themselves. Red Wolves, Grey Wolves, Wolves of Ash and Fire, all seek their own ends. And we did not fail: Horus Lupercal is no longer who he was. He may not be with us at this moment, but do not count our great enemy as a unified host. Their pretend empire is build on a rotten foundation of lies and barely masked deceit. Lies, that we have revealed, deceit that the Warmaster knows well. Horus Lupercal will not stand for a lie any more than you will stand for the Emperor's divinity. He will brook no masters and heed no gods." The distant voice intones, evident conceit and confidence clear on the fragrant air. "Have just a little faith and carry out your orders. I'll be sure to mediate with the Powers to give us some leverage despite these... setbacks. All shall become clear soon enough."
"Yes, of course. I'm just moments out." He says, bowing his head as the last candle dies with a death rattle of the final supplicant.
With a rattle and clack, the echoing boom of mag-clamps securing the void frame resonates through the hold. Lumin orbs flicker and light up, illuminating a ring of grey clad astartes with blades drawn, each behind the bloodied corpse of a kneeling legion serf. Erebus kneels in the middle of the circle, bracing a hand on his knee. The wounded priest sighs as the trickle of sacrificial blood finally touches the soles of his boots.
"You didn't tell him about the Antithesii." A plumed warrior posits, the power armor's mask turning it into a deep metallic-tinged monotone growl.
"And I won't." Erebus hisses as he pushes himself to standing, "Not until we learn more. Be patient, our success is assured even though our way is fraught with perils and difficulties. Keep the faith, sergeant." The diatribe passes far more elegantly, as if the cloth bound across the sorcerer's ruptured throat was barely an inconvenience compared to just moments before. "Either way, our friends are likely eager to hear of our future endeavors."
And sure enough, a short walk brings them to the loading bay door of the stormbird just as the bulkhead seal hisses from escaping atmosphere. The door peels away, and a pair of grey clad officers emblazoned with golden sigils stand at the far end of a long umbilical gangway.
The vox clicks in every one of the grey-clad legionnaire's helmets, "Welcome back to the Hand of Fate, First Chaplain."
"Yade!" Aximand's roar breaks through the crackling vox net just above the roiling tide of bolter fire. The captain spots the crimson comb of his lieutenant and twist so he was looking in his direction. A series of clipped hand signals accompanies him, "Ready a collapsing withdrawal! I'm taking a section to link up with first company!" At the head of a new surge of legionnaires, Lieutenant Yade Durso makes a short gesture to signal affirmation. Aximand breaks off down the steady line of breachers holding the mouth of the main chamber.
"Glory squad, Akar squad, with me! Gorros, make us a path!" He drops back from the firing line, breacher shields closing behind him. The captain takes a hop-step back, Mournitall's glittering blood soaked blade flicking up to his shoulder as he points straight towards the embattled Justarian a few dozen meters away. Five sea-green forms and his company standard bearer break into a run behind him, darting past the concentric firing lines of his predatory warriors.
The lumbering groan of terminator plate heralds Akar's assent. "Copy, captain! Akar engaged!" Unlike the Justarian's massive black plate, the sleek tartaros terminators could lope into the fray and carried into the morass of living bodies like a landslide compared to the Justarian's tidal wave.
But all of it faded to insignificance in a rumbling growl of massive footfalls and the basal blurt of angry sound. With a ponderous roar of agitated mechanical might, a massive colossus bows under the low hallway door. Almost five meters tall, more than half that wide, its slanted jade armour jangles with a swaying clatter of gold plated skulls and the omnipresent orange reptilian Eye of Terra. Both hands disappear in shining barrel clusters of adamantium, eyes burning in an incessant lidless glare.
"I listen and obey." The flat threatening growl of the Contemptor dreadnought booms in the deep and turns to face the uneven ground cluttered with tides of half-human beasts. The twin rotary cannons purr like a psybercat, then scream to life. A roiling river of explosive rounds stitch across the open space, ricocheting off stone floors and pulping meat into a fine pink mist as furrows are sheared through the mass of bodies. The whistling scream of the kheres assault cannons beat an eerie dirge across the open hall, melding with the tambourine clatter of brass casings raining down in a non-stop deluge that mixes with the barking howl of bolters.
The speartip, led by Aximand himself, darts into the gap made by the sudden relentless destruction. They form a wedge-like gap widened by the trundling lope of Akar and the terminator elite of the company. With barely a note of effort, the Justarian crash loose from the encircling tide and link up with Aximand's command.
"Aximand, took your time!" Abaddon's wrathful face belies the faint note drifting in the air.
"Aximand!" Torgaddon laughs, "I knew you'd come to your senses and stop moping in the rain!"
But Aximand's brow furrows under his armoured helm at the jubilant voice. "Quiet, Tarik. I'm still angry with you, and you Lo-"
"It had to be done." Marr, still supporting Horus, now opposite Abaddon interjects without the levity clear in his fellow captain's voices. And Aximand was left to stare for a moment, brushing past the group. He hears the grunt of pain and irritation from the primarch slumped between Marr and the First Captain.
"You did well, Little Horus." Lupercal coughs, clearing his throat with a bass snarl. "Let me up. Let me up, I can walk. And I sure won't be seen dragged from this damned place." Horus weakly shrugs off the supports, much to Abaddon and Marr's distaste, and Loken's sharp glare says to Aximand to say: 'do something before he decides to go back!'
Aximand took the glance seriously, "Horus, we're low on munitions. We should pull back and resupply before any further operations are launched!"
Horus's face hardens, and the dim golden glint turns into a narrow-eyed glare. Wrinkles form from his deep and thunderous scowl, and before he could be prompted further, the primarch looks back over his shoulder. Shrugging off Abaddon's supporting limb completely, he glares at the now empty pillars that had supported the abomination. But he said nothing all that time.
"I will not scuttle from this temple like a whipped mongrel. I will not flee from my enemies." the primarch growls, much to the continued irritation of his captain. He scans for the daemonic abomination, only to see it had vanished from its sickly perch.
"We can take the Justarian back to the courtyard and reinforce while fifth company continues the assault." Loken suggests and turns to cleave down another ab-human which had rushed to fill the sudden gap in the murderous lull. A snap-choom and ruby red beam streaks past from the darkness.
"Well, looks like a few of those volkite boys wandered back." Torgaddon mutters.
"Fine." Horus grunts in evident irritation, "Come with me." With a final searching gaze into the gathering gloom, Horus Lupercal clicks his teeth together and turns for the door unhurried by the relentless screams and bellicose roars of the raging firestorm swirling around him. Stepping through the breach, he emerges between lines of legionnaires gathering on either side of the door. Clusters of Cthonian warriors gather around crimson plumed sergeants collecting their squads, waiting for their chance to plunge into the fray on the other side. Several giant forms of dreadnoughts skim the darkened corners of the room as they grind over piles of dead Davinites that lay in tangled heaps. Silhouettes of corpses choke the chamber, with just the central corridor blood soaked but cleared leading to the light at the end of the hall.
A somber grey day it might have been, but amid the wafting mists of rainwater and stark flashes of lightning, it was a world sweet and song-filled in comparison. Horus stretches a hand out, protecting his eyes from the shine of the distant doorway as yet more columns of legionnaires filter in. Horus Lupercal walks down the corridor, armored warriors on either side bowing in marked respect as even the massive contemptors kneel among the dead.
Behind him, the delegation of Justarian and his little knot of captains and veterans pace like pages before the warrior-king. Horus, still swathed in blood stained robes and little else, strides down the barely lit corridor, feet slapping through the blood congealing on slick stone. And with one hand clasped to the shroud loosely hanging from his chest, he emerges into the rain drenched wilds of the Davin evening.
Lit by tines of forked lightning, escorted by his warrior elite, Horus steps from the Delphos onto the steps of the ancient temple. Masses of legionnaires bearing war banners stare up from across the stepped courtyards, Catulan reavers peer down like gargoyles, and the indiscernible mass of humanity that had awaited the return of the Warmaster gather beyond the walls of the ancient primordial fane dedicated to ancient fell powers.
The scream of circling fire raptors and stormbirds barely phase the crowds, even as one touches down among a thronging tide of Imperial army soldiers making way for its fiery descent. Horus lifts his head up and closes his eyes to feel the rain. Rivulets trace down his sweat soaked flesh as it washes off the blood and gore clinging to a pink-stained robe. It looked almost intentional, stately. Chin tilted to the heavens, a hand reaches out in front of his face with the other clasped to his chest, the primarch finally speaks.
"By the grace of the Moon, I have conquered death. And I am returned."
Puzzlement greets whatever proclamation that was, with Aximand shooting Abaddon a look, and Loken and Torgaddon both focusing on a faintly nodding Marr.
"Commander, the apothecaries will be here in moments. I have them on standby on Raven two-one." Aximand gestures to the descending stormbird.
"Good, Little Horus. Very good." Horus Lupercal takes a shaky breath and opens his eyes. "Abaddon?"
The First Captain trailing just behind and to the right of his primarch, hastily hurries forward. "Horus." he greets, trying to keep the relief and elation off his usually wrath-laden face. But it wasn't to be as his green eyes sparkle and posture seems less looming even in blood caked terminator plate.
"I'm going to ask you a question and you will answer: do you know what a pony is?" Horus's regal side-ways grin sees the elation melt into pure confusion.
With lofted brow and half open mouth, Abaddon forms a few words with a shake of his head. A scrunched nose precedes a short nod, "Yes? I mean, there are etchings of Cthonian pit ponies from house Abarth covering the walls of Coldharbour back home in the North Sink. Why?"
Horus nods, "Good. From now on, if you see one and it says it knows me, particularly one that's dark blue with wings and a horn, then you will halt all operation and transport them to me immediately. Is that understood?"
"I... if it says?! What?!" the incredulity etched on the First Captain's face couldn't have been properly molded by an artisan remembrancer of any caliber.
The astartes just blinks, open mouthed and gawking as Horus Lupercal's grin melts into a baleful stare. "Is. That. Understood?" the finality was there, and Abaddon visibly bites back whatever else he has to say. "Let me hear it, Ezekyle."
"This, this is insane, Horus!" The First Captain nods in deference at the height of the steps as the faint chanting rises from the assembled host of mortals and astartes. Horus had heard it from almost the moment he'd stepped from the widely parted doors. But now it was rising into a frenzied chant that rivaled the blustering stormwracked winds.
"Abaddon, I'm about to give you a chance to slake your bloodlust. Use whatever you like: life eaters, cyclonics, phosphex, chainswords, sharp sticks, and stones at your discretion, but I want Davin in ashes. Destroy its people, burn its crops, slaughter its livestock, and leave none alive. I wish for it to be erased. But I will not be fought on this. If you see the creature that appears as a pony, it will be remanded to me immediately to the exclusion of all other tasks. For now, you will deal with Davin, and then-" he rounds on Abaddon, pulling him up, armor and all, to be eye to eye with him. His muscles tense but it looks effortless as Horus's intent stare bores into him, "Then, depending on my humors, I'll deal with you. So, let me hear you say it."
The slow pull of the First Captain's lips was a warning that this wasn't the last they'd speak of it. "Understood." The First Captain grates out, confusion overwhelming anything else.
Abaddon is released, falling almost a foot to the ground and taking a step to keep himself from falling flat. But as he still stares in mild shock and confusion, Horus Lupercal descends the steps amid an echoing cheer.
'Lupercal! Lupercal! Lupercal!'
Marr rushes the few paces to catch up, standing by the Lupercal's side and whispering, "Are you alright, Commander?"
Without looking back, Horus trudges on down the temple steps with the grace of a born monarch. "I'm fine."
"We said We are perfectly fine, why woulds't thou sayeth otherwise?" Luna spits back as she's helped from the mirror's rippling surface on unsteady hooves.
The journey was draining and, just perhaps, her companions hadn't been wrong when they forbade her from travelling through the other doorway again. Luna's throat was parched and every moment of speaking made things worse. But looking at the two smaller ponies on either side that had assisted her since she'd been tossed from the wavering un-reality of the waking nightmare, was a somewhat humbling experience.
Sunset's uncertain cringe masquerading as a smile leaves Starlight to wince before replying, "Because you're talking in early modern Ponish again?"
Luna's blush makes it to her cheeks, but the low grating sigh drains it of any real heat. "M-mayhaps We-I, I am a little shaken."
"Is something else wrong, Princess Luna?" Twilight asks a little more insistently.
A thousand things rang through the Princess of the Night's mind, but she was only left to wonder just how perceptive her sister's pupil was. 'Oh, maybe just a little something, Twilight Sparkle.' But she bites back any real response once she sees Twilight's concerned little frown.
She sighs and takes a breath, ready to explain when the doors blow open and a voice spills into the room. "Twilight, Princess Luna!" Moondancer scrambles in from the hallway only for the mare to be catapulted aside by a sliding blue blur that skids around the corner.
"Starlight!" Trixie's voice booms in the enclosure as a cadre of royal day and night guards clamber up to the entrance of the room. They snap to attention with a clatter of plate. But it still doesn't overwhelm the clop of hooves on polished stone,
The bounding leap carries Trixie straight into Starlight, barreling her back head over haunch as she embraces her friend and mashing their muzzles together.
"Oh for... it's been like three hours! You can't go without sucking her ears out through her muzzle for three bucking hours?!" Moondancer huffs as she shakily stands and set her crooked glasses right. She looks over to Twilight mouthing 'you owe me' before trotting over to her friend, then looking as professionally as she could between the other three while patently ignoring the couple on the floor.
Moondancer approaches the rest, hiding the grin. "It's good to see you."
'At least this one has some decorum.' Luna surveys the magi, or whatever she calls herself. A small plan forms like a cloud in the back of the diarch's mind.
"Don't you ever do that to Trixie again! You're-" Starlight hisses a bit, "STARLIGHT GLIMMER?! What did I say?!" the squealing note rises in indignant consternation.
"I suppose we should leave them along." Twilight uncomfortably says, face still remaining flush as she keeps her eyes elevated.
"Mistress Moondancer," Luna starts, looking over the researcher who bit her lip at 'mistress', "It seems your work with Magic, Empathy, and... Starlight Glimmer-" she arches a brow and glances almost disdainfully at the muddled blue ball of half anger and awkwardness on the ground, "has resulted in a satisfactory outcome. You are to be congratulated."
Moondancer opens her mouth, barely hiding an embarrassed and perhaps self-satisfied smile at the faint praise.
"SISTER!" A far larger shape brushes through the wall of guards, shouldering them away in a single leaping bound and clearing the distance.
'No.'
Luna's eyes narrow to pinpricks as she sees the bounding white shape pass like a blur. Luna's ears fold flat against her skull, "Oh sweet stars, Celestia sto-"
The air is forced from her lungs as her elder sister pounces, crashing into her and seizing the younger mare in a bone crushing hug. "I'm so glad to see you're alright. Welcome back!" A quick kiss on either cheek ends with a protective nuzzle that forces the younger Alicorn's cheek into her sibling's downy soft chest tuft. The little maternal nuzzle and rub of Celestia's chin musses Luna's mane and getting an embarrassed scowl.
Luna's left eye twitches, letting her hold that half horrified scream locked in her throat. It just comes out as an undignified filly's whine. "Siiiisteeeeeeer! We are no foal, unhoof us immediately!"
"No, silly filly." Celestia's nuzzle doesn't remotely stop as she pulls her into a seated hug. A few innocent chuckles from the mares present were likely nothing more than their own appreciation.
'We are not to be mocked! We are to be respected! We are to be bowed too... when did her chest get so fluffy?'
Despite Luna's fervent wishes, she breathes heavily and lets her neck relax. Celestia's hug pulls her even closer and the soft rhythmic beat of another's heart lets irritation subside some.
Luna wasn't sure when the smile had appeared on her muzzle, as dopey and hopefully fleeting as it was. "'Tis good to see you again. Though as Mistress Moondancer said, we weren't absent long."
There's no real reply at first, just a muffled coo from Celestia as Luna's left hoof encircles her neck. "I'm never gonna let you go again, Lulu."
But a subtle shift pulls a hiss from a stiffening Luna. Celestia's foreleg adjusted over her sister's withers and jostled her left wing which had slipped from its position. The long feathered limb slips from its cradle, pinions splaying dead on the floor.
"L-Luna?" Celestia's warmth turns to ice as Luna's pained breaths come rapidly. "You're hurt!"
"N-no we're-" Luna's words dissolve as an arcane 'bamf' shifts the world around her.
In the back of Luna's mind, she hears a muted growl of pain and irritation. It's not her, it's not the Nightmare though it's similar. No, she knows the lupine snarl but hadn't heard it outside of her dreamwalking. A dismal hiccup erupts from her throat as she feels the familiar uncomfortable rasp of green medical sheets on her rump. Once again, she finds herself seated on a groaning wooden medical gurney back in that tiny depressing corner of the castle.
Celestia shifts just enough to slip her hindquarters from the too-small bed and to the floor, but remains awkwardly in the embrace. "Now, not another word. You're going to get a thorough check up, little miss Moonbeam."
"Ugh." Luna grumbles, eyes rolling in frustration. "I'm fine. A little rest-" A hoof silences her, but the younger Alicorn's eyes narrow to slits and she softly smacks her sister's hoof from her muzzle. "Wouldst thou desist and let Us talk!?" Celestia's eyes register hurt at the outburst.
The sovereign of the day edges back a little, smile faltering for a moment. It pulls a guilty sigh from Luna as the younger Alicorn watches her sister shrink back at the reproach. To mollify her just a little, Luna reaches out with a hoof and wraps her sister in a hug. "I promise, sister, I'm fine."
"Luna." the sound of a plea steeped in worry and affection trembles in Celestia's breast.
The sound crumbles the last of Luna's resolve in a low and decidedly undignified groan. "Fiiiiiiine." Luna relents, pulling from the hug just enough to settle her forelegs across her chest in a petulant pout.
A low magical shiver prickles Luna's nape, only for a second arcane scintillation to end in a magenta burst of light and 'bamf'. Five more ponies crowd into the already tight confines of the room. Twilight stands in the middle of her cadre, Starlight and Trixie to her left, having evidently been a hooflength from a now wide-eyed Sunset who had her rump pressed up against a metal cupboard handle. With a warbled 'woah' and thump, Moondancer's precarious two-legged perch on top of a guest chair sends her toppling onto a distracted stagemare.
Both royal sisters peer at a slightly bleary eyed Twilight as another voice rises in the room. "G-g-get your fat flank out of Trixie's face!" in a roiling thrash of fabric and limbs, the two break apart amid another breathy laugh from a pony a hoofbredth from her, "Not funny Starlight! You aren't forgiven yet either! Take a seat and stay there." she points straight to the chair, staring at the clean flayed marks in Starlight's fur.
Luna couldn't help the smile, but looks over at Celestia after a moment. "Well, we seem to have a few mares that might be able to satisfy your request. Sister, how about Princess Twilight and her expert staff. They, evidently, were taking care of me during our lull."
"Actually," Twilight said with a blink and sheepish grin, pulling Moondancer to her side and leaving Trixie to roll off her side and onto all fours. "That was more Doctor Barnyard's role. We just looked after you and conducted a series of tests."
The silence is broken by Luna who merely shrugs, "We would say that it worked, and that is more than enough."
"But," Moondancer starts with a stuttering hesitation, "P-princess Luna, with all due respect, I can't draw blood, or administer any other serum tests! It's just-"
"I can." Luna states calmly, ending Twilight's descent into anxiety induced hyperventilation before it began. "It's only blood, I don't trust physicians. They use leaches." She looks to Moondancer who shifts awkwardly on her hooves.
"Sister," Celestia sighs, "they stopped with that practice centuries ago. Things have progressed since then."
A flood of memories barrel back like a speeding cart of the cadre of white-coated medical ponies poking and prodding her when she was first taken from their previous castle just after her reappearance. "Then explain that hack of a doctor Chloroform Leachman!" Luna's chin juts out in defiance as her fur prickles with her hackles.
Celestia's laboured sigh echoes in the room and the hug slackens, though only barely. "She was an anesthesiologist, Luna. It was a joke."
"Trixie swore she saw her on Bridleway." The stagemare lofts a brow, getting a silencing glare from Twilight that she patently ignores.
"She is, now. After some-unnamed-pony ensured she wouldn't work on the castle staff again." Celestia grumbles again. "She was always fun."
"Regardless," Luna looks over to Twilight and shuffles on the uncomfortable bed, finally managing to free herself from Celestia's embrace. "We will allow it if you wish to start now. We would, understandably, like to be abed sooner than later. There is much to do."
"Noooo you don't, not for a couple of days." Celestia reaches out, gently booping. "You'll stay there until your doctor clears you." Then shoots a bright and sunny grin at a mortified Twilight, glancing back and forth between Luna and Celestia.
Luna sees it too and backpedals with a near shout. "Nay! That is most certainly a conflict of intere-"
"Check her RPTE." Sunset calmly requests, voice shockingly cold and even. She shifts over to a medical chart on the wall before looking under the counter for something. Whatever it was, it broke the tension, though that garners a few questioning glances.
"Okay. um, why?" Moondancer lofts a brow, then nearly turns pale again as both royal sisters carry their attention from Sunset to herself.
"Just trust me, I kinda have a feeling about something." Sunset glances back up, then swallows and sits down, head bowed "Celestia. I know I haven't earned forgiveness yet, but I do want to help. If you'll let me."
The elder diarch doesn't say a word. With a clop of hooves on the floor, she finally parts from Luna's side and approaches the penitent downcast Unicorn. A hoof tilts Sunset's head up, letting their gazes meet. "I'd be glad to have your help, Sunset Shimmer. If Twilight says that you can be trusted, and she has in the past on several occasions, then I wouldn't dream of questioning it." She pats her head and gives the slightly dazed Unicorn an affectionate caress.
"Can we please be done with this?" Luna asks, drawing the other ponies attention.
"Twilight, Trixie and I will head out to the guest wing. I mean, if we aren't needed here. It's pretty cramped and you have all the help you could ask for." Starlight says quietly, not meaning for it to carry far in the medical room.
"Oh no, you are getting a room and waiting for a doctor, too. And Trixie is going to watch you like a griffon." Trixie scrunches up her muzzle and presses her nose against Starlight's. But the worried trickle of moisture in the corners of her eyes made it just as clear that despite the tone, it was a request.
And while Twilight shoots a look to Trixie, then the door to say 'can't she go alone?' It dies as the stagemare rubs her nose to Starlight's in a little affectionate and worried nuzzle.
"Come now, my little ponies."Celestia smiles, parting from Sunset to softly open the door in her golden haze, "How about I walk you to the other medical facility. For all you've done for us, it's the least I can do to make sure that you get the best treatment possible, miss Glimmer. And now, Miss Lulamoon, I'd be most interested to hear about that trip to Bridleway and hearing about my old attendant. If you'd indulge me." The solar diarch gently nudges the two mares out of the room with her magic before glancing over her withers at Luna. "I'll be back to check on you in an hour."
Luna nods, but is already more occupied with a sweating Moondancer holding the shaking platinum rod of the bedside thaumometer up to her. "I-i-it's a t-thau-"
"We know." Luna grips it in both hooves and presses the tip to her horn.
The meter's reader shoots up, tapping the top, dipping back down, and flinging itself back and froth across the whole display. Moondancer's voice comes out as a squeak, "M-mistress, princess, ma'am... please would you n-not-"
"We're not doing anything." Luna's voice drives the Unicorn back a few steps before her eyes widen. She casts a worried, pleading glance to Twilight "We're not. We swear!"
"I'm... sure you're not intentionally." Twilight's eyes look back and forth, but even they couldn't overlook the still open door and lack of hoofsteps in the halls.
"No, we aren't."" Luna insists, "Try it again!" And again, the meter flicks and flutters across the whole spectrum with a violent tick-tock like a metronome. The Princess's gaze searches the others, as if seeking the accusing glare she expected.
"I kinda wondered if you weren't sharing magic with him, intentionally or not. I mean, I read about it before, but you could have formed an arcane bond with that kiss." Sunset posits and pulls out a small glass vial amid the resonant sounds of-
"That WHAT?!" from Twilight and a trio of voices from outside. Moondancer merely drops the platinum rod with a tap, mouth agape.
"... That... that wouldn't." Luna's eyes widen, her hooves seemingly turned to jelly and mind to mush. "Oh buck me..." Her eyes roll up into the back of her head the same instant Celestia pokes her muzzle back into the room and Moondancer makes a strangled 'meep' as the senseless Alicorn Princess topples onto her.
Saynar Argahst sighs and licks his lips as he studies the shattered remnants of the hallway laid out in front of his storm eagle. The heavy bolters swivel a centimeter or two, slaved to his vision as he watches the dark pit of a doorway down which Abaddon and the rest of the Justarian had gained entrance. In the windswept lee of the temple's broken tower, he waits and watches for his unit's return.
The vox still crackles and pops. With a fist slammed to the delicate instrument panel, the legionnaire mutters his dissatisfaction over the open air. "Worthless garbage."
He feels a renewed gust of wind threaten to pull his gunship and pitch it off the tower. With a little flick of his wrist, he guides the engines thrusters and angles the vehicle so it slides a meter across the rubble strewn top and closer to the partial wall that sheltered him from the worst of the gales. It was a bizarre sight that kept tricking his eyes. The enormous mechanical limbs of the Dreadclaw that had breached the tower before them kept shifting, gaining a better hold as it clamped onto the ruined wall like a limpet.
Another flash of movement catches his eye, and immediately the twin-heavy bolters above the boarding ramp traverses with a whine. From the shattered steps emerge a pair of legionnaires, green armor broken and warped as if the whole tower had fallen on them. They slowly groan and pull themselves up, weapons against their chest as they grind through the thigh-high piles of rubble and dust. Each regular block and ruined piece of debris reflects the shine from the glowing tower lights that erupt skywards like orbital defense battery lances.
With an errant flick, the pilot signals the green light that they could board. If that was all that was left of 10th company's strike team, he wasn't going to leave them strung out here on the top of a hostile tower. That, and getting into a dreadclaw clutching a shaking wall felt a little dicey.
"C'mon, C'mon, hurry your arses up." he mutters to himself and swivel the bolters past them and into the darkness to cover their retreat.
In a few moments, the pilot glances out from his starboard canopy to the landers screaming into the rain-washed landing zone. The stormbird stays down as yet another infantry section debarks in the temple's courtyard, but he can barely see anything else through the sheets of rain. He almost loses track of the legionnaires for a moment, hearing only the clap of boots on the plasteel deck grating.
Argahst flips the internal coms for the transport bay which crackles and pops even from inside their own flying tin-can, "You two get comfortable, we'll be holding until the First Captain says otherwise."
The reply is wet and slathering, interspersed with a low unnatural whine. "Acknowledged. Stand by to receive more passengers."
Argahst lofts a brow, but goes back to looking through the forward scope, bolters still slaved to the entrance. Something shifts in the darkness, but even the gunship's preysense couldn't pick out what the little blob of blackness was.
He was squinting as the doorway to the flight deck hisses open behind him with a flood of sickly rot and putrescent foulness like an open septic tank. Saynar Argahst looks back over his shoulder, spotting the figure for less than a fraction of a second: the legionnaire's cuirass and tasset plates bulged and cracked, caked with filth and rot as oily black discharge seeps from his rubberized joints.
A bolt pistol fires once from less than a meter away, spattering the canopy with gore.
Legionnaire Caphon grasps the corpse by its collar and drags the still twitching Argahst from the flight compartment while the equally bloated form of Larakkon slips by and takes a seat in the blood soaked command throne. Unnatural pustules form on the gorget of his armor, rebreather rasping with the corrosion frosting the ceramite vents. But the legionnaire effortlessly flips a switch on the side paneling. The gunship's external vox amp echoes, "Clear, my lady."
The writhing maggot-like abomination pulls its sickly bloated form out through the narrow hallway, and up towards the ramp of the awaiting gunship.