The Age of Wings and Steel

by DSNesmith

39. The Captain's Plan

“Captain Strudel! Captain Strudel!”

“I know, Bergeron!” Windstreak’s hooves slipped on the slick limestone street as she raced forward. Her lieutenant and the private flew fast beside her. Ahead, the walls loomed, and above them the dragon waited.

She was perched on the wall like a giant bird of carrion, her wings still flapping with the force of thunderclaps. Shattered blocks of limestone and bodies littered the courtyard below. The dragon, her scales glistening in the rain, reached up her head and roared. The sound was louder than the storm, smashing into the ponies like a physical thing. They faltered, wincing.

“What about the plan?” shouted Wheatie over the din. “Do we have enough chains?”

“Six out of our promised dozen,” she yelled back. “It’ll have to be enough.”

Bergeron flapped his wings against a gust of wind. “We have to get her away from the city!”

“Right,” said Windstreak. “Wheatie! I need you to get out to the lake. Get the chain teams ready for us, just like we drilled!”

“I’m not leaving you to fight that thing alone, Captain—”

“That’s an order, Private. I don’t intend to fight her. Just get going!” Windstreak looked back to the dragon and her eyes widened. “Oh, sisters, take cover!”

The three pegasi dived out of the street. Windstreak hid behind the rear edge of a tower along the wall. Mere seconds after she’d reached her cover, a vast river of flame consumed the road. It was blinding and hotter than spellfire, and it filled the space between buildings and incinerated anything on the street.

Windstreak watched with awe as the very rocks she hid behind began to warp. The tips of her armor’s decorative blue star slowly drooped. She blinked away sweat. Whoever thought armor covered with gold was a good idea ought to be gelded.

The flame ceased abruptly, as the dragon’s attention turned elsewhere. Windstreak peeked out from behind her hiding spot, and caught a glimpse of the dragon smashing forward through the upper half of the wall. The limestone crumbled like cake, rocks tumbling to the ground as the dragon’s massive body burst through. The tremor of her landing shook the ground beneath their hooves, and Windstreak felt her breathe vanish. She’d seen them just a few weeks ago, but she’d already forgotten how big they were.

Sparks and flames flickered on the dragon’s scales as mages rushed forward. Ignoring them, the dragon swished its tail back, knocking another chunk out of the wall, widening the hole. She let out another roar, a sound of power… and contempt. The dragon looked around, as if searching for something.

“Captain!” Windstreak looked over to find Bergeron running across the street to her. “Wheatie’s gone for the lake, but we still need to get that dragon over there. Any ideas?”

“Maybe we can get her to follow me. She’s bound to have orders to kill the leader of the Firewings.”

“Are you crazy? I said ideas, not suicide.”

There was another earth-shaking roar, followed by a brief blast of flame and the screams of dying ponies. “We’re out of time. Come with me, we’ll get her attention.”

Windstreak took off, soaring into the air against the pelting rain. Bergeron followed her as they raced toward the dragon. Every instinct in her body screamed at her to turn around and never look back, but she ignored them with the discipline borne of a decade in the Firewings.

More Whitetail ponies were now pouring into the courtyard; all those not stationed on the lake shores had come out to buy more time for the city. They broke on the dragon’s flanks like waves on a cliff. Flames consumed scores of them at once; gusts of wind from the dragon’s wing beats buffeted them aside like dolls. The dragon began to stride through the streets encircling the first ring of the city.

“Go for the eyes!” shouted Windstreak. She and Bergeron dove toward the dragon’s face, aiming for the left eye. It blinked once as they approached. Moments before impact, the dragon’s claw appeared as if from nowhere and batted them carelessly aside.

Windstreak tumbled through the air, struggling to reorient herself. Up and down were a confusing tangle, and the rain smeared her world into a blurry mess. She smacked into the city’s interior wall, knocking her breath away, and began sliding down the water-slicked stones.

Before she hit bottom, she regained her senses and flew up once more. Below, the dragon was steadily making her way to the north side of the city. It came to Windstreak in a flash. “Bergeron! She’s going for the gate!”

A line of spearponies, stretching across the street and four ponies deep, blocked the dragon’s path. She didn’t even stop, simply walking over them like ants; those that remained in her way vanished under her talons. Their spears snapped like twigs as they stabbed at her scales, the unicorns’ most powerful spells bouncing off and making divots in the limestone road.

The dragon reached the gate in minutes, surrounded by spearponies. They stabbed at her flanks in futile effort. She reached up a leg and swatted them aside like dust. The massive green dragon reared up on her hind legs and gripped the left gate. Her immense muscles tensed, and the enormous hinges of the left door snapped cleanly apart. The dragon slammed the door down to the ground, crushing those beneath it.

One of the unicorns managed a lucky shot, sending a ball of spellfire directly into the dragon’s eye. She roared, more with irritation than pain, and unleashed another stream of flame onto the ponies below. Windstreak and Bergeron hovered helplessly.

Windstreak sucked in her breath. “Now the griffons can just walk right in.”

“If we don’t get her out of the city, none of us will live long enough to fight the griffons anyway!”

Below, the dragon had turned back toward the city’s center. Her wings beat mightily as she took to the air once more, flattening all the unlucky soldiers around her.

“Now’s our chance!” Windstreak rocketed forward, feeling the stinging rain slap against her face. Ahead, the dragon landed heavily on the interior wall, her claws sinking deep into the stone. She briefly lost her grip as the stone crumbled, but flapped her wings again and regained her position.

Windstreak came in from above, swooping down in front of the dragon’s face. Her heart rate spiked with adrenaline as the dragon’s eyes swiveled to focus on her.

“Dragon!” To her surprise, the dragon’s head leaned slightly back as it took her in. “I am General Windstreak Firemane of Whitewall, Captain of the Firewings, and leader of the armies of the south. I offer you one chance to surrender. Give up now, and you will not be harmed.”

The dragon blinked once, and then snorted. The blast of hot air from her nostrils blew Windstreak away like a kite, sending her spinning through the air. She fought to stabilize her trajectory, flying up through the rain and landing on the roof of the keep.

Below, on the inner wall, the dragon’s head slowly swung left and right. The dragon sniffed inquisitively, ignoring those few spells still coming from the city’s ruined first level as they bounced harmlessly off her scales.

Bergeron landed beside her. “You all right, Captain?”

“We were wrong,” said Windstreak, her voice heavy with despair. “She doesn’t give a damn about killing me, or the army. She’s just going to pick apart the city at her leisure, and there’s nothing we can do to stop her.”

“Yes, but pick it apart for what? She’s looking for something.” Bergeron and Windstreak cringed as the dragon let out another long roar. “What’s she after?”

“Gold? Gems?” Windstreak shrugged hopelessly.

Bergeron shook his head. “Whitewall is rich in stone, not gold. Celerity spent most of that building her army.”

“Well, the books in the library said dragons—” Windstreak froze. Both of the Firewings looked at each other with wide eyes.

“The library!” they said in unison.

“Of course,” said Windstreak, beginning her habitual pace. “Whitewall’s library is second to none, except maybe the Princess’s, and there are some things here that even Canterlot doesn’t have. Come on, we have to get the archmage!” She lifted off and dived from the keep’s roof, heading away from the dragon.

“If he’s still alive,” said Bergeron darkly, following.

* * *

Viera felt a slight sting as another lightning bolt spell connected with her hide. She flapped her wings irritably, blowing a gust of air downward and knocking the ponies off their hooves. The insects were becoming bothersome. She hoped the griffons would arrive and clean up the mess soon.

She smiled to herself. She had a feeling that humiliating the griffon commander as she’d done would motivate them to march a little faster. It wouldn’t be sporting to kill all the defenders of Whitewall before they got here, and besides, she had better things to do. She could feel the magic in this city, lying buried somewhere near the center. As soon as she’d sniffed it out, she could dig into the veritable feast of Whitewall’s collection of artifacts. She’d done her part for the griffons by destroying the gate, and now she intended to claim her prize.

The ponies below were beginning to try her patience. A ball of sticky spellfire attached itself to her right wing, burning merrily despite the pouring rain. Viera craned her neck down and inhaled. She felt the sulfurous fumes inside her second set of lungs, roiling around like the storm clouds above. She breathed out and felt her dragonspark ignite the stream. Fire gushed from her jaws, filling the street below. No more spells would come from there, at least for now.

She sniffed again, trying to catch the scent of the magic. It was nearly in her grasp.

* * *

Windstreak burst through the library doors like a cannonball. “Archmage!”

The wizened old pony was there, to her relief. He looked up from a scroll with surprise. “General! Why aren’t you outside?”

“We need your help, Archmage.” Windstreak moved toward him with urgent strides.

“I’m still looking for any spells we can use against the dragon—”

“Forget the spells! What’s the most magical thing in here?”

The archmage shook his head desperately. “We’ve been over this, General! We have no magical weapons, none that would harm a dragon.”

“It doesn’t have to be a weapon, just anything magical! Come on, don’t you have a, a, a magic horseshoe or an enchanted necklace or something?”

His eyes glowed. “No necklaces, but we do still have Celerity’s tiara. It has a very powerful glamour enchantment, to make new duchesses look good for the coronation ceremonies.”

“Perfect. Where is it?” Windstreak panted as water dripped from her armor and steadily dampened the carpet.

“In the Fendrake wing. This way!” The archmage took off at a sprightly run, despite his age. She followed him into the next area of the library, coming to a stop in front of a pedestal. On it laid a red pillow with a silvery tiara.

It was a beautiful thing, with a sharply cut diamond in a silver filigree placed delicately in the center. It seemed to glow with a soft inner light. The archmage had spoken truth; the glamour enchantment was powerful. Windstreak found herself wanting to simply stare at the tiara, letting her worries slip away.

Outside, the dragon roared, snapping her out of it. Windstreak ripped off her helmet and let it fall to the floor. “On, now.”

“But this is only to be worn by members of the Belle house—”

“Now, Archmage, or nopony will ever wear it again.”

Cowed, he lifted the tiara with magic and settled it onto Windstreak’s head. The silver clashed horribly with her fiery mane, but her appearance was hardly a concern. She could feel a slight tingle where it touched her skin, though whether she was imagining it, she could not say.

Without another word, she turned and raced for the library exit. She passed Bergeron, and the two of them galloped out into the rain once more.

“Bergeron, if this doesn’t work—”

“It’ll work, Captain.”

“If it doesn’t, I want you to go to the lake and get all of the ponies back here as quickly as possible. If all the pegasi get together, we might be able to make one last ditch attack.”

Bergeron just swallowed and nodded. Windstreak skidded to a stop and looked at him. “I have to do this alone. She can’t be distracted from the tiara. If I don’t make it out of this alive…”

“You will, ma’am.” Bergeron snapped a salute to her. “Good luck.”

With one last breath to steel herself, Windstreak lifted off from the ground again and headed for the dragon.

Comments

[timidCircuitry]

Flying into battle wearing a tiara, enchanted to make you more fabulous?

Rarity approves

[Cystenian Remir Rhys]

1468586

Your comment made me burst into roaring laughter.

[PaulAsaran]

You titled this chapter "The Captain's Plan."

And then you failed to produce said plan, instead showing her improvisation.

Tricky bastard, now I've got to wait until Monday to read how Viera gets hers. Not cool.

Also, you do know that this chapter, the last chapter and the one coming up could all have been set as a single large chapter, right? Unless you just love to throw cliffhangers at people every 2,000 words (and really, who doesn't?), keeping these things separate serves no purpose.

[Golden Fang Ryu Shenron]

Good luck Windstreak...hopefully you’ll survive this and live long enough to see your son again.