The Age of Wings and Steel

by DSNesmith

11. A Spoonful of Sugar

Rye swam lazily through the clouds. The sun was shining all around him, lighting up the top of the fluffy whiteness. He dived back down into the cloud, paddling forward. He poked his head out of the bottom, looking down at the distant ground.

He stretched his legs and cracked his neck. Taking a breath, he dove from the bottom of the cloud, soaring down. He spread his wings and flapped, swooping up and around the cloud. He grinned as the air rushed past his face. He swung around to the top, landing back on the puffy white cumulus.

“What a beautiful day,” he said to himself, enjoying the warmth from the sun high above.

“Strudel.” He looked to the side and to his surprise, found Inger.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, confused.

“Let’s get moving,” said Inger, looking impatient.

“Where are we going?” Rye felt lost. He was just up here enjoying his cloud. Why was Inger pestering him?

Inger walked up to him and started shaking his shoulder. Rye shoved away his leg, puzzled. “What are you doing?”

“Rise and shine, pegacorn.”

The clouds melted away as Rye woke to find Inger’s face about a foot away from his own. The Firewing was shaking him, looking quite annoyed. “Get up already. We’ve got a lot of ground to cover today.”

Rye groaned and rolled over, away from the pegasus. “That was a perfectly good dream.”

“I’m sure. Do you want breakfast or not?”

Rye squinted up at the sky, trying to hold on to the feeling of soaring through the air. “What do we have?”

“Let’s see… apples, apples, oats, apples, or, if you want something different, apples.”

Rye made a face. “Forget it.” Instead, he rolled over and pulled out some grass with his teeth, munching on it.

They had been traveling for nearly a week. It had been five days since that fateful encounter in the forest, and Rye was starting to adjust to the difficulties of the journey. He felt energized by the vibrant grassland, the rolling hills and the open road. He had never spent such a long time out of the cramped, crowded city before, and he was beginning to enjoy himself.

Inger had wanted to be much farther along by this point, but Rye had finally put his hoof down in protest. He couldn’t spend day after day running at the breakneck pace the Firewing set; his legs were going to give out on him. So instead their journey had become a leisurely walk, taking in the scenery. Inger fumed, naturally, but despite his protests they were actually making pretty good time.

“How close are we to the Antlerwood?”

“At this speed?” Inger harrumphed.“Likely a few days' journey.” He marched ahead stolidly, as Rye sighed.

Conversation with Inger had run dry since their last talk. Rye was reluctant to reveal any more about his family to Inger, and the pegasus wasn’t exactly forthcoming with details about his own life. He still seemed to resent having Rye along, the icy silence freezing any attempts to strike up a friendly chat.

As they trotted down the road, Rye looked wistfully up at the clouds. Flying in the dream had felt so fantastic… He spared a gloomy glance at his wings, remembering his ill-fated attempts to emulate his mother during his youth.

“Oh, Rye. How could you? You could have been killed!”

“Dad, I didn't get hurt-”

“Your father and I expect better out of you, Rye.”

“Mom, I just wanted to-”

“If I ever catch you on the bakery roof again, I swear I’ll lock you in the house for a week. Don’t scare me like that.”

He banished the memory, instead turning his thoughts to the task that lay before them. The ponies of Sleipnord waited beyond the border. They were huge, warlike, descendants of the ponies who had refused to flee south from the never-ending winter… and that was the extent of his knowledge about them. He smiled ruefully. Despite Cranberry’s best efforts, Rye had never taken much of an interest in old civilizations. He’d preferred reading Equestrian history; especially if the Firewings were involved.

And thinking of the Firewings... He glanced ahead at Inger. The pegasus hadn’t exactly been a sterling example of chivalry so far. Well, not everypony could be like the tales, he supposed. He of all ponies should realize that the Firewings were no different from regular ponies. His mother was a magnificent mare, but she was hardly infallible, though Inger seemed to think she was. Rye suppressed a smirk as he realized he knew Inger’s idol better than the pegasus ever would.

Nordponies. Right. So how was he supposed to convince these “thanes” to help? And exactly what was a thane, anyway? He thought it might be equivalent to an earl or a duke, but he couldn’t for the life of him remember. He was beginning to regret not paying closer attention to Cranberry that day in the marketplace.

Rye was so concentrated on the task ahead that he bumped straight into Inger. The pegasus was standing stock-still in the middle of the road, his wings spread and his head cocked back to listen. Rye looked around in confusion. “Inger? What’s wrong?”

“Shh.” The Firewing looked behind them, squinting. “Keep walking.” They set off side-by-side at a sedate pace.

“What’s going on?” whispered Rye out of the side of his mouth.

“We’re being followed,” said Inger. “I wasn’t certain at first. I decided to wait until we passed the crossroads to be sure. They’ve been on our tail ever since the second day. They’ve probably been after us since Canterlot.”

“Who is it?” asked Rye, looking back with a nervous expression.

“Don’t look back. Keep your eyes forward.” Inger was scanning the road ahead. His eyes lit up as he spotted a large line of trees in the distance. “I’m not sure who they are. It’s not a griffon, I can tell you that much. None of them could have kept that pace for that long.”

I doubt any sane pony would, either, he thought. “Do you think it’s somepony serving Duchess Belle or Duke Blueblood?”

“It’s crossed my mind. We’ll know soon enough.” They were closing on the tree. “I’m going to set an ambush for them. You keep walking on ahead. If I yell ‘run’, then run.”

Rye’s stomach swam. “Got it.”

As they passed the trees, Inger flapped his wings mightily and swooped up into one. He nestled in the upper branches, blending into the red and gold autumn leaves. Rye continued on without a backwards look. He started walking as slowly as he could, not wanting to get too far away in case Inger needed his help.

He heard the growing sound of somepony humming in the distance behind him. What kind of spy sings ‘Tiptoe through the Tulips’ while they stalk a target? He frowned in puzzlement, but didn’t dare turn around.

Suddenly there was the sound of a snapping tree branch and a loud shriek of surprise. Rye froze in disbelief. That couldn’t possibly be who he thought it was.

It was. As he whirled around and galloped back toward the line of trees, Rye saw the pegasus tangling on the ground with a very familiar pink mare. She screamed again as Rye ran up to the pair of them.

“Help! Help! Bandits! Help!”

Rye stood staring at Cranberry and Inger as they rolled around. Cranberry’s saddlebags had spilled open, throwing books and maps all over the road. There was a smack as one of Cranberry’s hooves connected with Inger’s face. The pegasus was stunned briefly, long enough for Rye to rush in and pull the two apart.

“Rye!” exclaimed Cranberry. “This guy just tried to kill me!” She sounded more excited than scared.

Rye dragged a leg across his face. “Cranberry, what are you doing here?”

“Hello to you too,” she said huffily. The pink pony stood up, brushing dust out of her mane with a hoof. She looked over at Inger, who was massaging a bloody nose and scowling. “Is this that guy you left Canterlot with?”

Rye gave a long, beseeching look to the heavens. “Cranberry,” he repeated. “What are you doing here?”

“Um, well,” she said, blushing. “Following you, actually.”

“And why are you following us?”

Cranberry looked at him pleadingly. “Rye, you said you were going to Sleipnord. This is the chance of a lifetime! I’ve always wanted to go there.”

“What about your sister?” Rye’s initial surprise was rapidly turning into exasperation.

“Inkpot thinks I’m going on a camping trip. That’s what I told your father, too.”

“You told my father I’m going camping?” He rolled his eyes. “Cranberry…”

“Well I had to think of something on pretty short notice. I couldn’t risk letting you get too far ahead, after all. It’s been hard enough catching you as is.”

She put on a disapproving frown. “How could you just run off like this without me? You’re being awfully selfish, Rye. Well, at least I’m here now to keep an eye on you.”

“Excuse me?” Inger was seething. “I don’t think so—”

Cranberry rounded on the pegasus, puffing up angrily. “And you. Stealing off with my best friend in the dead of night without so much as a by-your-leave, then attacking an innocent highway traveler! I swear, you’re the most bad-tempered, ill-mannered, inconsiderate pony I’ve ever met.”

Inger was taken aback, trying to recover some of his composure. “Look, Miss… Sugar, was it? I’m sorry if I’ve upset you, but we really don’t have the time for niceties.”

“Clearly. Hmpf.” She turned her head up dismissively. “Well, if you two are done fooling around, mind helping me pack up my things so we can get going?”

Scowling, Inger said, “Absolutely not. You’re turning around and going straight back to Canterlot.”

“And who are you, you bossy little ingrate? I’m here to help you.”

Inger puffed out his chest and raised his head. “I am Inger of the Firewings, servant to Her Majesty Princess Celestia, and a guardian of the realm.”

“How impressive.” Cranberry didn’t sound very impressed. “Rye, why is this guy following you?”

“We’re, uh, sort of traveling together.” Rye looked between the two of them. He was beginning to feel a headache coming on. “Look, Cranberry, I know you mean well, but I really don’t think this is a good idea.”

“Sure it is! You need the thanes to help you fight off the griffons, and who would know more about how to convince them than Canterlot’s resident expert on Sleipnordic culture?” When Rye didn’t respond, she helpfully added, “That would be me.”

Inger was stunned. “How—how did you know about—”

“The griffons? Oh, come on, I can put two and two together. Why does everypony think I’m an idiot? Rye’s mother getting put on active duty, a royal guard sneaking out of the city on a mission to Sleipnord, all these rumors about invaders to the south? Grypha’s been looking to re-expand its territory ever since the end of the Great War. They’ve been eyeing the southern farmlands for a long time, now. It’s only natural to assume they’d invade eventually, and it’s just as natural to assume that the Princess would seek help from the Nordponies like she has in ages past. You know, you two would learn a lot if you just read a book every now and then. It’s four, by the way.”

“Four…?” Inger looked hopelessly lost by this point.

Rye shook his head in dismay. “Cranberry, are you crazy? This isn’t a vacation we’re going on. We’re trying to get an army.”

“And how are you going to do that without speaking Sleipnordic, hmm? I don’t presume either of you do?”

Rye looked sideways at Inger. “Er, how were we going to handle that?”

“I was planning to pick up a translator from the watchtower at the mountain pass,” said Inger. “Look, Miss Sugar, we appreciate your concern, but it would be best for all involved if you could just return to your home and let us do our job.”

“Nonsense. I’ll be a huge help to you both, you’ll see. I’ve brought my map collection and everything!”

“I don’t think that we’ll—”

“Besides, you’ve got no chance of getting their help without somepony that understands their culture.”

Inger’s patience had finally run out. “No. Sleipnord is extremely dangerous. It’s no place for—”

“For a mare?” asked Cranberry tartly.

“For a civilian! I’m only taking him along because the Princess ordered me to. I’m not lugging you around too.”

“I’m not a sack of flour,” said Rye, annoyed. “You aren’t ‘lugging’ me anywhere. I can pull my own weight.”

Inger glared at him. “That remains to be seen, pegacorn.” Rye flinched.

“Look,” said Cranberry. “I’m going to follow you whether you want me to or not. So we can do this the easy way, or the really annoying way. You might as well let me travel with you.”

“She’s not kidding,” said Rye with resignation. “She’ll pester us forever until she gets what she wants.” Cranberry stuck out her tongue at him. “And she’s right, we do need somepony who can speak Sleipnordic. Might as well be one we already know, right?”

Inger sighed in exasperation. “We don’t have the time to escort her back to the city.” He looked at Rye, finding no support. “I suppose we don’t really have a choice, do we.”

“No,” said Cranberry sourly, “You don’t.” She brightened. “Besides, it’ll be fun! We’ll get to see the hall of Saddlestead, and the Dragon Lake, and maybe even the Giant’s Forest if we’re lucky! This is going to be so great!”

Rye couldn’t help but smile. “Come on then, let’s get your books.” He helped her pick up her collection of maps and books and shove them all into the saddlebags. As they worked, Inger started walking down the road, muttering to himself.

“So Cranberry,” asked Rye as he knelt to grab a dirty map of northern Equestria, “Why are you really here?”

“That obvious, am I?” Cranberry gave a regretful laugh. “I’m here because you need me. I’m not going to let you wander off into the unknown without a friend at your back.” She scowled in Inger’s direction. “He doesn’t count.”

“He’s not so bad, once you get to know him a little.”

Cranberry crooked an eyebrow. “Rye, he calls you ‘pegacorn.’”

Rye cringed. “Well…”

She smiled at him. “Don’t worry, Rye. I’m here to help you. We’ll make it to Sleipnord and get help for the Princess in no time.” She slid the last map into her left saddlebag and clamped the buckle shut over the bulging pouch. “Now come on, we’d better catch up to him before he gets lost. It’s hard to see where you’re going when you’ve got your head stuck that far up your ass.”

Rye snorted. The two of them ran to catch up to Inger, who was still marching on ahead.

After spending several days with the dour, humorless Inger, Cranberry’s presence was like a breath of fresh air. She chatted endlessly, about Sleipnord, her latest books, what she’d had for breakfast yesterday, anything and everything that popped into her mind.

Rye, grateful for the chance to talk, kept up the conversation by explaining what had happened to him over the past week. Cranberry was an excellent audience, oohing and ahhing in all the right places. When he told her about Dawn, she sniffled back a tear.

“She sounds like a really brave pony. I wish I could have met her.”

“She was,” said Rye sadly. “I just hope we’re not too late to stop the griffons from coming north, or there’ll be a lot more like her.”

He told Cranberry about the audience with the Princess, and the trip out of Canterlot. Ahead, Inger kept pressing on faster and faster in a doomed attempt to run the two of them out of breath. Their hooves sped up, but Cranberry's mouth didn't even slow down. Inger finally gave up and assumed a steady walk, flattening his ears to try to block out Cranberry’s incessant chatter.

Eventually the talk turned to their childhood. “You remember that time you stole old Blossomforth’s cane?” asked Cranberry, laughing.

“Oh, don’t remind me,” said Rye, blushing.

“Don’t worry, Princess! I’ll save you!” shouted Cranberry, waving her front legs in a pantomime of battle. She laughed at him.

“It wasn’t a very good sword,” he said morosely. “It broke after I tried slaying the bakery with it.”

Cranberry giggled. “You were such a cute foal, Rye.” She made a gagging motion. “What happened?”

“Oh, please,” he said, preening. “I'm irresistible.” He tossed his mane.

Cranberry snorted, and burst out laughing. Ahead of them, Inger sighed. It was going to be a long journey.

Comments

[katarjin]

thought she would follow them...too bad for Ingy they need her

[SilverQuilled]

This is brilliant!

[PaulAsaran]

Ah, this is a much better result for Cranberry. I knew she'd either get captured by griffon spies or go gallivanting after Rye, and I'm pleased it's the second one. I half-expected her to blurt out the name of Rye's mom in a few instances there. But hell, by the time they even reach the border half of Equestria will be enslaved! Inger has my sympathies, only more so considering they aren't aware that the invasion is now in full swing.

[Golden Fang Ryu Shenron]

Cranberry crooked an eyebrow. “Rye, he calls you ‘pegacorn.’”

Very good point.