The retreat had not – quite – become a rout, as far as Twilight Sparkle was able to determine. There had been chaos, and there had been panic, but most of the surviving ponies had managed to stick together. After breaking free of the hydra, thanks to the heroic actions of the pegasi, the unicorns and earth ponies had fled southward, making for Ponyville. What little organization they had had dissolved: companies had broken, unicorns and earth ponies running intermingled, and the surviving officers were scattered throughout.
Most of the earth ponies and the unicorns had instinctively formed a herd several hundred strong, seeking safety in numbers. They thundered through the orchards, trampling the ground to mud and obliterating the occasional small garden. As their panic settled somewhat, Twilight Sparkle gave thought to ordering a halt and reorganizing . . . they had covered nearly half a mile, and even if the hydra was pursuing them, its dragging pace should give them time to –
The sound of wings filled the air above, and suddenly there were griffins everywhere. A few pegasi rose to fight them – most of the winged ponies were still engaging the hydra – but the birdfolk ignored them. Rocketing past the ground-bound ponies, they settled to the ground a few hundred yards ahead of the herd and turned to face the Ponyville forces.
Are they mad? Twilight wondered. She had nothing but respect for the combat prowess of the griffins, but this situation was heavily in the earth ponies' favor. Still, the griffins were arranging themselves before the ponies, clearly intending to engage them.
Towards the front of the herd, she could distinguish Steady Gait's voice bawling out instructions. The earth ponies responded, adjusting their position as they ran, settling into a steady gallop. The unicorns slowed, allowing their earth pony allies to surge to the forefront of the herd. The griffins braced themselves. Out of nowhere, Twilight found herself wondering what had become of Big McIntosh.
The earth ponies crashed into the griffin line without slowing. Shrieks and screams filled the air as the ponies rumbled on, not stopping, not even pausing to engage, simply running the enemy over. Griffins uttered shrill cries and lashed out with claw and beak, but they were ground under by earth pony hooves and earth pony muscle. Here and there a griffin got in a lucky blow, and a pony went down, but the Ponyville forces were as inexorable as a flood against a wall of sand.
And then they were past, the griffins breaking and scattering in all directions as the ponies continued their relentless charge. A few unicorns took parting shots at them, but they lacked the time and concentration to pool their power. The griffins were shattered, and the ponies galloped on unhindered.
Several minutes later, the ponies thundered to a ragged halt in a large clearing, thinly planted with tiny apple tree seedlings. As they milled around, organizing themselves by breed and injury, Twilight forced her way to the front of the herd where Steady Gait stood panting – the only lieutenant she could make out. He greeted her with a nod, and she turned and scanned the herd, looking for any of the other leaders.
She caught sight of Zecora almost at once; the zebra had fallen to the back of the herd, but was making her way towards Twilight. Somehow, she had managed to slip into her harness and bring her cart as well; how she had gotten it over the rough terrain Twilight did not know. As the zebra moved closer, Twilight nudged Lyra. “Decanus Lyra, if you could get everypony's attention?”
Lyra nodded, her horn coming alight. The sound of an immense gong boomed, reverberating through the air, and the ponies fell silent, turning towards Lyra and Twilight.
“Everypony,” Twilight began, “we're not out of this yet. Take ten minutes to rest and patch up the wounded. Rainbow Company, I want scouts to the north, so we have as much warning as possible if that hydra – or anything else – is following us. The rest of you – I want a screen of ponies, at least fifty earth ponies and two units of unicorns, positioned between the rest of us and the enemy's location. Volunteers. Now, let's get to work.”
She quickly assembled the remaining leaders, including Silver Gleam, Zecora, Steady Gait, Ambrosia of Russet Company, and Blues, acting Lieutenant of Black Company after the death of Oak Hoof. Disturbingly, there was no sign of Big McIntosh, Applejack or Cloud Kicker, but she had no time to waste on wondering where they were. The six ponies formed a small circle, regarding one another soberly.
“We can't fight that thing,” Blues stated in his melodic voice. “The earth ponies, I mean. Maybe the unicorns can do something against it.”
Silver Gleam shook his head. “It took several strikes from the Decanii with no noticeable effect,” he said. “It's theoretically possible that we could somehow affect it, but I wouldn't want to count on it.”
“Besides,” said Twilight, “even if we can eliminate the hydra somehow, the damage is done. We've lost the field, and there's no choke point even half as good between here and Ponyville. If we try to hold those dogs in the open, they will simply surround us, and if we lose the cover of the trees, we lose our advantage over the griffins.”
The defenders of Ponyville regarded each other for a long, silent moment. The answer was obvious, but nopony wanted to voice it.
“We fall back,” Twilight said at last, harshly. “Back to Ponyville.”
Ambrosia's head fell, and she sighed heavily. “All that work,” she said sadly. “All that fighting, all that death, and we're just going to give it all up.”
“No,” Silver Gleam spoke up. “It's not that simple. We've bloodied them badly; I know we have. We've taught the griffins to respect us, and we've taught the dogs to fear us. We've held them back for two entire days: that's two days longer than we should have, by any rational measure. We've bought ourselves time and experience, and we've made our final defense stronger that it would ever have been otherwise.”
“Silver is right,” agreed Twilight with a firm nod. “What happened today in no way diminishes what we've accomplished so far, or what we can still accomplish. We will hold Ponyville.”
The others nodded, eyes hard. Twilight's gaze swept the ponies, gauging their readiness. She opened her mouth to speak.
Away to the northwest there came a flash of turquoise lighting, followed several heartbeats later by the crack of thunder. Silence fell as the ponies turned to stare. Twilight and Silver exchanged a glance.
“It's Fallax Equa,” the purple unicorn said. “She's taken the field herself.”
“Hunting stragglers,” Silver agreed. “Hunting unicorns, most likely, and I shudder to think why.”
The hydra is bad enough, Twilight thought, but Fallax Equa . . . we can't fight her. Whatever she is, whatever Trixie has become, she wields incredible magical power. I'd bet anything she's controlling the hydra somehow.
“Time's up!” she shouted suddenly. “We are heading back to Ponyville, and we are leaving now! Get moving, everypony! Black and Russet Companies in the lead; then Violet; then Green, Yellow and Crimson. Rainbows, I want a dozen of your fastest fliers sent ahead to warn Ponyville; the rest of you screen our retreat. Go!”
All was suddenly chaos as hundreds of ponies lurched into motion at once. The lieutenants scattered, finding their Companies, leaving only Twilight and Zecora. Twilight turned to her companion, but Zecora had caught the attention of a muscular young earth pony and was strapping him into the traces of her cart.
“Go on, young Twilight, back to Ponyville,” the zebra said over her shoulder. “I have duties I must fulfill.”
“You what? Zecora, we have to go!”
Zecora finished her task, then stepped a few paces away and gestured towards the distant crackling and viridian lightning. “As long as Fallax Equa roams free, Ponyville will be no sanctuary. To give all of you ponies a chance, I mean to stay here and slow her advance.”
Twilight goggled. “You're planning to fight her? Zecora, have you gone mad?”
Zecora favored Twilight with the tiniest of smiles. “Am I mad? I think not so. I have secrets you do not know. Now hurry, quick, be on your way! Your test will come another day. Take the things there in my cart, and remember always to heed your heart.”
“I don't understand. What are you planning to do against Fallax Equa? What can you do?”
“I will do now what I must. In the lore of my ancestors we all must trust,” replied the zebra. “If there is a chance for goodness to win, reach for the heart of the foal within.”
“Zecora,” Twilight said exasperatedly, “I know your rhymes are important to you – though I still have no idea why – but this is critical. Can you please just tell me what you're trying to say, in clear, simple phrases?”
Zecora shook her head, her eyes distant. “You wish Zecora's good advice, but for every gift there is a price. We cannot change who we've become, the roads we've walked since we've begun.”
“Are you saying you can't just tell me?”
The zebra pointed to the young stallion hitched to her cartload of potions. “If you wish to fathom my deed, then do what you do best, Twilight: read.” She eyed Twilight closely, her blue-green eyes intense. “My words will mean little at this time, but I am the last of Tumaini's line.”
“I . . . I don't understand.”
Zecora started to walk away, then paused and turned back to the unicorn. “If we do not meet again . . . remember Zecora as your friend.”
Then she turned and galloped away in the direction of the lightning. Twilight watched her go for an endless moment, desperately trying think of something to say, some way to help.
But there was nothing.
She turned back toward Ponyville, tears in her eyes.
Fallax Equa felt the hydra fighting her, its dim, brutish mind struggling with the fetters she had laid upon it. It was little more than a beast, but its willpower was not inconsiderable, especially with charged with pain and frustration. The dark mare paused, eyes going blank as she reasserted her control. No. You are still mine.
“Fallax Equa, shadow's daughter! I call on you to end this slaughter.”
She turned, surprised, to see a lone zebra standing not a dozen yards away and regarded her with a disturbingly frank gaze. Turquoise eyes narrowed as she focused on this newcomer. “Have you come to surrender, child of the South? Come to beg me to spare your life?”
“I will not beg, and I will not plead. I have come here, not for words, but deeds.” The zebra took a step forward, head erect and proud, gold necklaces and bracelets gleaming. “You seek innocent lives to slay, but I, Zecora, will bar your way.”
“Oh will you?” sneered Fallax Equa. “And is there any reason I shouldn't just obliterate you where you stand?”
“You may attempt it, child of dream, but like you, I am more than I seem.”
Vivid turquoise lightning flickered around Fallax Equa's horn, but fast as she was, Zecora was faster. A hoof swept out, and a cloud of green fog enveloped the area. The dark mare's lightning tore through the spot where the zebra had been standing, but there was no reaction, no cry of pain.
Fallax Equa eyed the cloud of fog coldly as it billowed and expanded. “You delay the inevitable,” she stated.
“Mortals rail against the fates,” came Zecora's voice, echoing weirdly, “defying the truth until too late. Yet in the strife spirits shine bright, like burning stars in an endless night.”
Movement to the left. Fallax Equa turned and a bolt of energy tore through the vague, equine shape she had seen. It dissolved into more of the greenish fog.
“You waste your power, child of blight,” Zecora called mockingly, stepping clear of the fog on the opposite side of the unicorn. “Are you certain you can face this fight? Your beast is restless; then there is your dome; and you are very far from home.”
“I have more than enough power to destroy you, you insolent foal!” snarled Fallax Equa. She shot another bolt at Zecora, but the zebra skipped lightly to one side, hurling what looked like a gourd at her enemy. The bolt struck the gourd and it burst, spraying yellow liquid in all directions.
Fallax Equa shrieked with rage, half-blinded by the liquid. A drumming of hooves warned her in time, and she lashed out blindly with her power. Something whistled past her head and shattered on the ground, and then she could see again.
Trees. Green mist rolling everywhere. A broken pot by her hooves, leaking a luminescent blue fluid. No sign of her attacker. Cautious now, the dark mare surveyed the area, the shifting clouds of green mist, the trees, the stones.
An equine shape loomed up before, and quick as thought, a bolt of energy tore through it. It dissolved into mist. More arose, three, ten, two dozen: zebra-shapes composed of the green mist, advancing on her with slow deliberation. Fallax Equa laughed.
“Is this your best, herb-mare?” she demanded scornfully. “Mist and shadows? Potions and poultices? You should have stayed in your hut where it was safe.”
The misty horde advanced, ranks of silent, gray-green shapes, but Fallax Equa ignored them. She scanned the banks of fog beyond. Nothing. Where was that zebra hiding?
Close by, one of the misty shapes looked up.
Its eyes were yellow.
Fallax Equa threw herself sideways as Zecoa lunged, the mist falling away from her like a cloak, her eyes and hooves burning with amber fire. The zebra's hooves raked her side, burning where they touched.
Supple as a serpent, Fallax Equa twisted away from those terrible lashing hooves. Zecora pursued her, striking hammerblows, her eyes flaming. Yellow sparks flew, and each strike rattled the dark mare like a thunderbolt. Who is this accursed zebra?
Turquoise fire gathered in Fallax Equa's eyes and played about her horn. Rearing, she unleashed a shattering blast of energy, a spreading beam of destructive power as wide as a wagon. It caught Zecora squarely, and she simply vanished in that flood of venomous light. Trees splintered and flamed where that blast struck them, and earth was gouged up and flung through the air, blackened and smoking.
The dreadful light faded and Fallax Equa, sides heaving, regarded the devastation. A wedge-shaped section of orchard perhaps twenty yards long and half as wide at its far end had been completely destroyed: trees incinerated, stones shattered, earth scorched and blasted away.
At the center of the far end of the wedge stood Zecora. Her face and chest were blackened with soot, her mohawk was half its former height, and the amber fire of her eyes and hooves had died away. Her tiered gold bracelets and necklaces were simply gone – not torn away or melted, but no longer there, the coat beneath them pale and unsullied. Fallax Equa stared at her in shock.
Shaking ash from her head, Zecora stepped calmly forward.
“And now, perhaps, you begin to see what kind of power lives in me,” she said to the astonished unicorn. “Your dark magic may twist the mind, but I hold strength of another kind. The glory of a bright sunrise; the dance of winking fireflies; the crash and thunder of rivers wild; and the innocent love in the eyes of a child.”
“What are you?” hissed the dark mare in disbelief.
“From mother to child the lore is passed on, remembering always the Battle of Dawn. Through endless years, through death and birth, Tumaini's line yet walks the earth!”
At the final word, Zecora broke into a gallop. Fallax Equa unleashed another crackling bolt of energy but the zebra dodged it with impossible grace, seeming to anticipate the bolt's path. She was fifteen yards away.
Tumaini! thought Fallax Equa. Will I never be free of her and her cursed spawn?
Another bolt ripped through the air, missing the zebra by inches. Ten yards. A bolt tore the earth at her hooves, but Zecora was leaping before it ever struck. Five yards. A thrill of apprehension in her heart, the dark mare let loose a staccato series of bolts, draining her magical reserves, filling the area between herself and her enemy with an inferno of turquoise death. Magical lightning climbed skyward, and Zecora vanished from sight.
And then she was there, in the midst of a flying leap, a small clay pot in one forehoof. Fallax Equa had a clear shot; Zecora was too close to dodge, and there was no cover. I have her now, the foal! The unicorn's horn flared a final time as she met the zebra's eyes.
Zecora knew.
The pot left her hoof an instant before a thunderbolt of turquoise lightning hammered into her, catching her in midair and flinging her back, to slam into an apple tree with a sickening crunch!
Simultaneously, the pot struck the base of Fallax Equa's horn and shattered. Luminous blue fluid sprayed over the unicorn's face, blinding her, soaking her coat. It tingled; it burned with an icy sensation that went straight to her bones. In a frenzy, Fallax Equa shook her head, rubbed it on the ground, pawed at it with her forehooves, desperate to rid herself of the awful stuff. She couldn't get it off; she couldn't stop the horrible icy burn. It wasn't exactly painful, but it seeped into her skin and could not be ignored.
“What did you do?” she demanded in a rage, her vision finally clearing. Across the clearing was the crumpled form of the zebra, at the base of a large, battered apple tree. Fallax Equa advanced on her, stopping a few feet away.
Zecora lay in a heap, charred and bloodied, her body twisted painfully. She lifted her head with obvious effort and regarded her enemy out of one open eye. Her forelegs moved feebly.
“What did you do to me?” Fallax Equa demanded.
Zecora coughed painfully and spat blood, then bared red-smeared teeth in a grim smile. “Heart's Desire . . . and forget-me-not,” she said in a strained voice. “Magic . . . from ages long forgot. To awaken the heart . . . of the child within. Nightmare, you will never win.”
With an incoherent scream of fury, Fallax Equa called down the lightning. A bolt struck Zecora, then another, then a half-dozen, ten, twenty, fifty. For several heartbeats her power raged, spending her magic and her fury on the form of her enemy. At last, exhausted and frustrated, she felt the magic die away.
Nothing remained beneath the tree but a blackened, smoldering husk.
Tired, pained, and – for the moment – defeated, Fallax Equa turned away.
In the darkness, she stirred.
For a long time there had been only the darkness, only the sea of darkness, around her, enfolding her. Nothing else. No light. Only a faint, nagging sense that there had once been something more.
She was aware of unease, a sense that something was wrong, but she could not place the wrongness. It was as if something was askew with the world. The wrongness teased at her senses, so that she could not ignore it, but could not quite grasp it either.
There was pain.
She became aware of the pain almost casually, as if it had always existed and she was only now recognizing it as a distinct thing. There was pain, both given and received. She knew pain. She . . . caused pain.
The sense of wrongness increased.
She had no physical form, but she frowned. The pain was . . . bad. She did not wish to be associated with it. She did not wish to feel it, or to give it.
Why?
Then came the awareness that there were others, that others existed, and that the warm, stifling darkness was not the totality of existence.
She stirred again, nagged by a desire to see what lay beyond the darkness, but held back by a sure knowledge that beyond the darkness lay only discomfort. This was right and proper. This was where she belonged.
And she dozed again, but it was an uneasy doze.
In the shadows of a ruined orchard some miles north of Ponyville, Sigmund of the Red Feathers bent over the body of a griffin and clenched his eyes shut against the tears.
Klaus . . .
The ground was trampled to mud, many of the smaller trees were bent or broken, and corpses littered the ground. They were griffin corpses for the most part, but here and there a pony lay as well. The Red Feathers – the survivors – were quietly engaged in collecting their fallen comrades.
Sigmund had known what must have happened when he could not find Klaus. He had nursed a faint hope that the other griffin had merely become separated in the rout, and would rejoin the Red Feathers when he could. Their defeat had been crushing, if foreseeable, and the raptorian creatures had instinctively scattered in all directions when it became clear that to remain on the ground was mere suicide. It had taken hours for them to reassemble into a military unit.
A military unit that was a pale shadow of their former strength. Sigmund had not taken an official count yet, but he knew at a glance that less than half of the Red Feathers were flight-worthy. Nearly a hundred griffins lay dead on the field, trampled by pony hooves in an engagement that should never have happened at all.
Sigmund's claws tightened reflexively on stiffening flesh. Including Klaus.
They had been friends for years, since they were both fledglings; they had gone through the military academy together, and when Sigmund was named Wingleader, there was never the slightest question as to who his lieutenant would be. Klaus had always been there for him, with his incisive vision and quiet strength. He had known exactly when to speak up, and what to say, to temper Sigmund's more impulsive ideas. They had overcome so many challenges together. They had been nestmates in all but blood.
A tear fell on the body. Sigmund forced himself to look again, not wanting to see, but refusing to give in to his cowardice.
Klaus lay before him, broken and bloody, covered with hoof-marks and mud. He had been against this entire plan from the start, but neither disagreement nor injury had kept him from his duty. He had stood his ground, faced impossible odds, out of love and loyalty.
Sigmund's eye was drawn to the bandages still around his foreleg, muddy but intact, and he choked back a hysterical laugh. That yellow pony would be angry . . . all her work for nothing.
The ponies. They did this.
Sigmund shook his head. No, not the ponies. They did what anyone would do: they defended what was theirs. They didn't ask us to invade their land. They didn't ask us to stand in their path.
That was Fallax Equa.
Sigmund squeezed his eyes shut again, fighting back rage rather than grief. Abruptly, he rose to his feet and glared around at the others.
“Red Feathers!” he snapped in his best officer's voice. The other griffins turned, stopping whatever they were doing and drawing near their leader, who surveyed them keenly.
“We have a decision to make.”