Legio IX Hispania (18) (Patreon)

Lyra knew the look of Changeling territory the moment she saw it. There was no border wall, no patrol marking the line, no signs. But the land showed it just as surely.

Where ponies kept their magic, the grass grew greener, the trees taller and lush with leaves. Where ponies kept their magic, nature itself seemed healthier. She felt it in her first step over the edge, growing stronger with every passing moment. 

Those in this land had not sacrificed their cutie marks to Tirek, and their magic flowed still. Instead of all at once, they had to sacrifice in smaller, crueler ways.

Stalwart stopped in a grove of dense trees, about ten minutes after crossing. His eyes darted furtively back and forth through the forest, strong shoulders flexing with the muscles underneath. "Something is wrong, Lyra. I'm not sure this is the right way."

She stopped beside him, though not touching. Ponies might prefer more contact, but her friend had yet to adjust to that standard. From what she'd seen of the “human” creatures, they were more solitary in their nature. Even when captured by minotaurs, they sat far away from each other. "What's wrong?"

He spun again, eyes wandering through the trees. He stopped facing her, eyes wide and wild. "The land is different here. I have... heard of this. The druids north of the emperor's wall... some said they could talk to the wood. Diana gives her blessing to them, though they do not honor her properly. But that goddess always had strange tastes..."

Lyra nudged him, until he met her eyes. "You're feeling the magic, I think. Tirek hoarded it all for himself, so ponies didn't have any. But Queen Chrysalis doesn't want us to lose our magic. She's more dangerous than that. You're a unicorn, so you feel it. But changing the land isn't something most unicorns can do. It's an earth pony talent."

He settled onto his haunches, flicking open the satchel to the bag he carried. He kept the sword within reach, or where it would've been if he had fingers. Without them, he would have to use his magic for the purpose. "This is natural? There is a heartbeat in the trees, Lyra. Ceaseless pulsing, unseen yet before me!" 

She nodded. "I knew that feeling once or twice. Some unicorns sense magic more strongly than others. You get used to it, learn what currents matter and which ones don’t." She sighed, resting her head briefly against his neck. "Equestria used to feel like that everywhere. Every pony radiated with it. Every tribe, every creature. Tirek's lands are an empty, cold reflection. Lifeless."

Stalwart Hope didn't shove her away from him, as he had so many times before. No matter how stern and impersonal, the stallion was not without compassion. 

Or maybe something else. He touched his head to hers in a pony hug, with one foreleg wrapped around her neck. "It's overwhelming, Lyra. I can barely think!"

This warrior fought monsters twice his size and stood firm when they finally overwhelmed him. He feared nothing, yet whimpered like a colt who had just now discovered magic for the first time. How much more would he be overcome when they reached a true Equestrian city?

"It won't hurt you," she said, the same as she might've soothed a child. "Magic is the birthright of all living creatures. It moves through all, even those who cannot wield it directly. Tirek stole it, but now it's returned to you. Or—I guess you just couldn't feel it before, where you came from. Now you can."

He shuddered, then stood up straight. "I will endure it, for my home. Mars give me the strength, and the fury. We will fight a great war in your name, if we haven't already."

Lyra waited for him to finish. Nothing changed, of course. No gods appeared, or other supernatural forces. She buried her envy as deep as she could. Lyra could not resent him for having what was stolen from her. Stalwart didn't even want to be a pony, let alone to take the last magic she hoarded for himself.

I'll get mine back. Ponies get to keep their magic here, it's only a matter of time.

"Remind me why we came here," Stalwart demanded, a little louder. "I need to see... the reason. We traveled so far from the legion. I demand to know why."

"Princess Luna is captive here," she said. "In ancient times, she was the princess of war. She led the army, fought for Equestria. If you want to win a war, your friends need her."

He nodded along. "Right. Where is she being held?"

She shrugged. "It's been a long time since the triumvirate split Equestria into three. I think Chrysalis has a... nest, where her swarm makes their home. And I know changelings do not like the cold very much. I'm guessing she would be there, somewhere in the south of Equestria. Los Pegasus, maybe? Or San Franciscolt. Wherever it is, she needs a large population of ponies. They need to feed."

They started walking again, with Lyra to lead. They weren’t going anywhere specific, there was no road yet. West, that was what mattered. Sooner or later, they'd find a railway, or a proper road. Then Lyra would know where they were going.

"They eat horses?" he asked, slowing his steps a little. "Which I am now. Fortunate me."

Lyra giggled in spite of the grim topic. Not even minotaurs were that barbaric! But somehow, it was his first guess. There must be creatures in his world who do. Not surprising, the archeologist in Lyra thought. Given how barbaric and warlike Stalwart Hope acted, his world must be a grim one indeed. Only terrible danger could produce such strength.

"We already discussed this, Stalwart. They eat magic, through emotion. Love is their favorite, but any positive emotion will do. They're an old enemy of ours. They've taken cities before."

"Love," he repeated, indignant. "I don't understand how that could be edible."

"It's the magic they harvest. Love is the means of exchange. That's why the queen does things so differently to Tirek. She needs us to have enough magic left to harvest again. If they suck us dry, our magic will not replenish on its own. But leave something behind, and it will return over time."

He continued in silence for a long time after that, long enough that the trees began to thin, and eventually gave way to a dirt trail. Whatever it was, the trail was wide enough for carts to pass, and kept clear of brush. Not paved, but the gravel worked well enough.

"We're meant to cross an occupied nation?" he finally asked. "Find a prisoner wherever the tyrant keeps her and set her free."

She nodded. "That's the plan. I don't know how much of her magic she'll still have, but Luna still knows more than anypony about war, and all our enemies. You need her, promise."

"Alone," Stalwart went on. "Two of us against a nation."

"No. The ponies here are... trapped. They want to be free. When they hear about your legion, I'm sure they'll help. Anything to escape."

"Why?" He gestured around the road with a hoof. Trees gave way gradually to rolling plains, rich and green. Pegasi were still permitted to fly here and keep the weather from going feral. "If the queen lets everyone live the way they did before, there's no reason to fight. Eating their magic every now and then, so what? If it returns, there's no harm done."

She shuddered involuntarily, her stomach turning over in her chest. "There is much harm done. What they do to your loved ones while they’re gone… and what they force you to do with them. Pretending, never noticing… some might say the wound goes deeper than any a whip could inflict.”

"Oh." They continued in silence for a little longer, with Stalwart's face back at his usual, impassive mask. "They're good at imitation then, these..."

"Changelings," she finished for him. "Yes, the best. Physically, they're identical. They can look like anypony, or any creature. It's in their behavior they give themselves away. They need to study a pony to learn how they act and aren't always convincing."

"Perfect spies, then. Intrigue... now we're traveling familiar territory. We need a way to identify each other, in case we're separated. Something that can't be guessed. Yet—more than a password, we need two. One to give under interrogation, that means we've been captured and require help. The other, true."

They had some time to come up with passwords. Privately, Lyra thought the exercise was futile—if one of them was captured, that would probably mean an end to their rescue operation. Maybe Stalwart Hope had iron bones and would resist a changeling interrogation—would she?

If Lyra had that strength, she'd lost it a long time ago.

They would've continued until nightfall, if it wasn't for the caravan. They saw the dust first, heard the rumbling through the road, and saw where they must be coming from. Without a word, Stalwart took her by the foreleg, and hurried her off the road. Yet there was so little cover here.

There were no trees, only lush grass, and the occasional scraggly bush. Stalwart found the thickest grass he could, and dropped onto his side, gesturing for her to do the same. "Have to... wait," he whispered, barely audible over the sound of many hooves on gravel, and the grinding of wooden wheels. "Until they're gone."

She nodded tearfully, pressing up against his neck. Her heart raced, breathing shallow. This could be it—over before they even began. Would Queen Chrysalis send them back across the border?

Soon the caravan was passing them, or the place they'd been along the road. Pony voices spoke, a low mutter of conversation that all blended together into the background.

Second by painful second, the caravan moved, fading gradually as more of the wagons passed them. Just a little longer. Keep going.

Stalwart bolted like lightning, drawing something from his pack in a flash of metal. His sword swung through the air with incredible speed, without a hoof ever making contact with the blade.

Lyra rolled away, watching with horror as several creatures closed in around them. But compared to Stalwart, it was as though her mind ran in slow motion. One fact penetrated her delirium: Stalwart held his sword in a magical grip, swinging it freely through the air as though he still had those thin, spidery limbs.

Blood sprayed onto the grass beside her, and a corpse fell where Stalwart had been standing. For a horrifying instant it looked like a pony—then its features turned black, limbs pierced by holes and gaps. 

Stalwart was... singing? A faint tune, low in his chest, yet reverberating through her with his magic. He smacked the bloody blade against his chest, then charged another target a short distance away.

Only in the stories of the ancient Golden Army had Lyra ever seen ponies fight like Stalwart Hope. Crossbow bolts flew, and he caught them against his magic, shattering them into splinters. When another bug closed, he turned aside their spear as though the apparent earth pony was a child, then decapitated him in a single swing.

His song turned into a roar. Though from one mouth, it deafened her, making her ears press flat, crashing over them like a wave. When he turned to shout at the army, the roar kept going—like a spell, not a song. "Who wants to die next? Give my greetings to Pluto!"

A few more did. Ponies broke from their places in the formation, swarming down on Stalwart with whatever weapons they had. A few scored glancing blows, when they worked together. 

But the battle did not last long. Before Lyra could even get her hooves under her, the fighting was over.

A half-dozen bugs fell around him, while another dozen more abandoned their pony shapes completely, and fled into the air with a low hum of wings.

That left the vast majority of the caravan where they stood, a scattered, bewildered group of ponies about fifty in number. They stared at Stalwart, watching in horror as the stallion finally sunk to the ground, lowering his bloody sword to the grass before him.