The Age of Wings and Steel

by DSNesmith

5. Northward Bound

“Windstreak, dear, you’re pacing again.” Apricot leaned back from the countertop, eyeing the dough to make sure it had the right consistency.

“Sorry, love. He said he was going to be back by midnight, but it’s already dawn and there’s been no sign of him.”

“He’s not a little colt anymore, dear. I’m sure he’s fine.” He carefully set the pan in the oven, measuring the loaf to make sure it would bake evenly.

Windstreak sighed, her wings aflutter. “I know, I know! I’m just worried about him. I checked the Salt Lick, but the bartender said he wasn’t there yesterday.” She kept pacing. “You know how broken up he must be about the officer corps.”

Apricot sighed. “Yes, I do. He looked like he was handling it well, though.”

“Of course he did, he’s my son.” Windstreak looked briefly proud. “Still, you know how he has those little depressive episodes. I’m just worried he’ll do something stupid.”

“Ah,” said Apricot, with a dry smile. “Now that sounds like Rye. No doubt he’ll show up sometime this afternoon, covered in dirt and smelling like a barn—”

The bell on the front door jingled from the storefront. Apricot furrowed his brow in annoyance. “We’re not open for another hour. Did I forget the sign again?” The two ponies walked out of the kitchen to see a dark brown earth pony wearing the symbol of the royal courier service. The courier wore two saddlebags stuffed with scrolls.

“I doubt he’s here for pastries, love…” whispered Apricot. “It’s probably for you.” Windstreak nodded grimly and approached the courier.

“Are you Captain Strudel?” he asked. She nodded, and he reached into one of his saddlebags to pull out a scroll. “Captain, my apologies for intruding. This is for you.” He handed her the message.

Windstreak set it down on the counter with a raised eyebrow. “What was so important that it warranted a royal courier?”

“That’s not my place to say, ma’am. I just deliver the letters.”

“Very well. Good day, courier.”

He bowed. “To you as well, Captain.” The courier left the door, racing off to deliver the rest of his messages. The bell over the door tinkled behind him.

“Well, what’s it say?” asked Apricot. His wife broke the seal and unrolled the scroll, her eyes darting down the letter.

“Let’s see… ‘Her Highness, Goddess of the Sun, Sovereign of Equestria, etcetera, etcetera…’ Ah, here we go. ‘Captain Strudel, your presence is requested and required at the Sun Castle by noon today…’” She read further, her face falling. “The Princess has summoned all the Firewings to active duty. All of us.”

“But you’re on leave—” began Apricot unhappily.

“Not anymore. We’ve been ordered to report to the castle, today. She’s calling us in, urgent priority. It doesn’t say why, but… she wouldn’t do this lightly.”

Apricot looked over the letter. “Why would she need the Firewings?”

“I don’t know for sure, but… I’ve heard whispers of trouble in the south.”

“I’ve heard them too.” Apricot’s face grew dark. “You don’t think the griffons would dare attack Equestria, do you?”

“I’m not sure. It’s been six hundred years since the Great War. They might be ready to push out again… We’re certainly weak right now. The last war we fought in was nearly a century ago, and even that was just a token commitment from the Princess to the Nordponies.”

Apricot sighed in frustration. “So much for our plans.”

Windstreak looked miserable. “I’m so sorry, love. I know we were going out to Lake Alazure this month, but… this is more important.”

“Yes, yes,” he sighed, giving her a sad smile. “Equestria comes first.” He gave her a hug. “Go save the world, honey.”

She smiled with teary eyes. “I love you. I’ll write if I can, but don’t be surprised if I can’t send any letters for a while. The last time we all got put on duty like this I was assigned all the way out in Cloudsdale for half a year.” She sighed again. “Oh, and one more thing—if Rye isn’t back by this afternoon, you’ll look for him, won’t you?”

“Of course. But I expect he’ll be back before then.”

“I hope so. I’m sorry; I need to go right away. The letter was very clear.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll finish setting up today.” The two shared a kiss, and Windstreak turned to leave.

“Remember to get that loaf out of the oven!”

“I will!” The bell jingled, and she was gone again. Apricot sighed and looked down at the letter. He knew his wife loved the Firewings, but he hated it whenever her duty took her away from her family. Regretfully, he began to dust off the counter before the bakery opened for the day. The bell rang again.

“Forget something?” he asked, looking up. The pony in his shop was not a blue pegasus, however, but a pink earth pony.

“Oh! Hello, Cranberry. I thought you were Windstreak.”

“Hello, Apricot,” said Cranberry cheerfully. “Is Rye back yet?”

“No,” said the baker, “I haven’t seen him since yesterday afternoon.”

“Oh, yes, I met him at the marketplace.”

Apricot’s heart eased a little. His son hadn’t vanished off the face of the earth, then. Perhaps Rye was just hiding somewhere in one of his funks. No need for concern. Still… “If you see him, tell him to come back home right away. His mother and I are worried about him.”

“Sure thing,” said Cranberry. “Um… I know you’re not open yet, but…”

Apricot smiled knowingly. “Here.” He pushed a fresh muffin over the counter.

“Thangfh,” Cranberry mumbled around a mouthful of pastry. “Well, ‘ow fee ‘oo ‘ater!” She left the store, ringing the bell for the fifth time that day.

Apricot returned to dusting the countertop. He was having an eventful morning. Rye was missing, the Firewings had been called to duty, and on top of everything the weather looked dismal. What else could go wrong? He sniffed the air, smelling a faint burning scent. His eyes shot open. “Oh, horseapples, the bread.” He dashed for the kitchen, opening the oven and choking on a cloud of thick black smoke.

* * *

Rye woke from a disturbing dream, filled with feathery wings, claws, and blood. His eyes snapped open, and for a moment he was horribly confused. He lay in a small bedroom that was clearly not his own. The carpet was a soft red, and the walls were not wood but smoothly chiseled stone. A rack of cloaks stood next to the door. Beams of morning light shone in through a small window on the wall to his right. Where was he?

Suddenly the memories of the day before came flooding back. He lay quietly in the bed for a while, thinking about the strange turn of events that had befallen him. How did I go from walking through the marketplace to traveling on a quest to save Equestria? He’d become a royal representative overnight, it seemed. He just wished he knew what he was getting into.

There was a knock on the door. Rye rolled out of the bed, untangling himself from the sheets. “Come in,” he called. The door opened to reveal the red pegasus from yesterday. The Firewing stepped inside, scowling.

“Are you ready yet? You’ve been in bed all day.”

“Sorry. I wasn’t sleeping very well.” Rye shook his head to clear away the last few smoky visions of the dream. While he got his bearings, Inger dumped a pair of saddlebags at the foot of his bed. The pegasus was dressed in a brown cloak, with the hood pulled off and around his neck. The bright, polished armor he’d worn the day before was packed tightly away in his bulging saddlebags.

He grunted irritably at Rye. “While you were getting your beauty rest, I took the liberty of packing our supplies. We’ve got enough food to last us a week and a half. We should reach the halls of the thanes by then. I’ve got the tents and sleeping pallets rolled up in my bags. Get yours on, it’s nearly time to go.”

Rye nudged the saddlebags up and over his head, nestling them onto his back. “Oof! What did you put in these, rocks?”

Inger rolled his eyes. “Food, a canteen, and a heavy cloak. You’ll need it for the mountain pass and the land beyond.” Hesitantly, he added “and inside the right bag are the copies of the treaty.”

Rye swallowed nervously. “Um… maybe you should carry those.”

The Firewing shook his head. “It is the Princess’s express wish that you alone carry the documents.” He gave a disapproving snort. “I’m sure she has her reasons.”

Rye pulled a light cloak off of the rack and threw it around his neck. “Before we go, I’d like to stop in at my parents’ house. They should know I’m leaving.”

“The Princess told me that she would take care of that. We cannot afford the delay, pegacorn. We’re leaving immediately after we talk to Her Majesty. If you ever finish getting dressed, that is.”

Rye pulled the hood over his head. It worked nicely to conceal his horn. “Let’s go.”

They left the bedroom, traveling through the castle. It was a maze of passageways, but Inger led him on without hesitation. They came at last to the council chamber, wherein Celestia’s throne resided. She sat alone in the empty room, lifting her head as they approached.

“Ah, my faithful servants. Rye, Inger, welcome.” She smiled at them both, and Inger bowed. He kicked Rye with a back leg, and the pegacorn quickly followed suit.

“How did the council meeting go?” asked Inger.

The Princess sighed. “About as well as usual. Nothing useful got done, but at least Celerity and Emmet haven’t started firing spells at each other. Yet. I haven’t told them about Dawn’s report. I was hoping to resolve the Sel-Paloth dispute without breaking that news, but…” She waved the memory away with a hoof. “It’s unimportant. Leave convincing them to fight the griffons to me. Your task is to find the thanes, give them the treaties, and bring back an army of Nordponies to help us fend off the southern invaders.”

“We will not fail you,” said the Firewing, saluting.

Celestia beckoned them both closer. Her voice dropped lower and her expression grew serious. “The journey to Sleipnord is not an easy one. I expect you will both face many difficulties before you reach the halls of the northern lords. Stay true to your mission, and above all, stay true to each other. You may find that in your hour of desperation, the only light you can find will be your friendship. Keep each other safe.”

Inger looked pained at the thought of calling Rye a “friend,” but said nothing. Rye simply nodded his head. “We’ll remember.”

The Princess beamed at the two of them. “Then good luck to both of you. May the sun guide you through the days, and the moon guard your steps at night.”

Inger took that as a dismissal and turned to leave the chamber. Rye lingered behind, unsure of what to say. He looked up at the Princess. She gave him a smile as warm as the sun. “Don’t be afraid, Rye. The world always seems darkest just before the sun rises. I should know.” She laughed, a tinkling sound that warmed Rye from his hooves to his wingtips. “Your path will not be easy or short, but you have the strength to make it through, even if you don’t yet realize it. Always remember, Rye Strudel: your friends are your greatest strength. You may meet many more on your travels. They will help you through the coming trials. Never forget this. Be well.”

She bent her head and kissed him lightly on the forehead. Rye knelt, deeply honored. “Thank you, Princess. I won’t let you down.”

As he left the council chamber he found Inger waiting impatiently. “Are you ready to go? I was hoping to be out of the city by nightfall, but we’ll be lucky to even make the gates now.”

“Sorry. Are you sure we don’t have time to stop by my parents’ place?”

“Whoever they are, the Princess will notify them. We don’t have any time to waste. The griffons could attack any day, now.” Inger led the way to the castle exit in a huff. Rye followed, curious.

How interesting. He doesn’t know that his Captain is my mother. He grinned to himself. The prospect of not having Windstreak’s reputation hanging over him was a compelling one.

“Hurry, pegacorn,” called Inger. He rushed ahead to catch up.

* * *

They walked through the city in the cool afternoon air. The sun sank low in the sky as they weaved their way through the crowded streets. The nobles and common-folk alike walked happily past, blissfully unaware of the looming threat of invasion. Rye looked around, trying to take in all of the sights and smells. He wanted to remember this moment, one final glance at home before he left the city for the far-away land of Sleipnord.

Inger walked on ahead, silent. Rye didn’t know what his problem was, but he hadn’t said a word to Rye since they’d left the castle. Maybe he’s just a quiet pony. Or he might still be angry about being saddled with me. He looked up at the Firewing, who caught his eye and sniffed dismissively. Or maybe he’s just repulsed by the fact that I’m a pegacorn.

He tried to strike up a conversation, but every time he opened his mouth the pegasus gave him a withering glare that instantly silenced him. Eventually he gave up, resigning himself to a long and boring few weeks. Maybe the Nordponies would be more talkative.

As they approached the market district, Inger led him down a narrow back alley instead of taking the main road. They crossed behind the marketplace, hearing the sounds of the vendors beginning to pack up for the day. Occasionally, they would pass a drunken pony passed out in some alleyway, snoring gently. They were pretty harmless, but Inger would give them a suspicious glare as they walked by.

“Hey, I know this part of town,” said Rye. “You ever been to the Salt Lick? Best brandy in the city.” He bumped into the pegasus, who had come to a stop. Confused, he looked ahead to see two burly-looking earth ponies blocking their path.

“Stand behind me, pegacorn,” whispered the Firewing. Instead, Rye stepped forward with an amiable smile.

“Hello there, friends. How can we help you?”

The bigger one snarled. He had a knife held loosely in his mouth. The rusty blade jumped up and down as he talked. “You can ‘help’ by putting your money pouches on the ground.”

“Oh, come now, that’s no way to treat a stranger,” said Rye, casually glancing around for escape routes. None presented themselves. He glanced behind him to see that Inger had vanished. How had the big Firewing slipped away so quietly? “Are you sure we can’t talk this out?”

“Money. Ground. Now.”

“I don’t have any money, I’m afraid,” he said, looking back over his shoulder. Inger had not reappeared. Rye took a step back. “I just spent the last of it in the marketplace.”

“Well, that’s a shame, isn’t it?” The thug nodded to his cloak. “That’s a nice bit of clothing you’ve got there. How about I take that instead?”

The little one started sniggering. “Stick ‘im, Mugsy. Let’s see if’n ee’s a screamer.”

Rye backed away with a disarming smile as the two thugs approached. “I don’t think you want to do this.”

“And why not?” said the big one, looming so close that Rye could smell the whiskey on his breath.

Rye looked up behind the two thugs and pointed with a hoof. “That’s why.” The muggers turned just in time to see two red hooves hurtling toward their faces.

Inger smashed into the thugs as Rye jumped out of the way. There was a brief struggle that ended decidedly in Inger’s favor, as he bucked the smaller of the muggers in the chest and butted the big one in the face with his head. The thugs dropped like stones. The two of them lay on the ground, wheezing. Rye stepped gingerly over the larger one as he and Inger walked away.

The Firewing’s voice was irritated. “When I say ‘get behind me,’ get behind me.”

Rye looked sheepish. “Sorry. I thought I could talk them down. The ‘no money’ line usually works, but I suppose I’m not normally wearing such rich clothing.” He looked down at his cloak. It was embroidered with a line of tiny suns, reflecting its place in Celestia’s castle. Perhaps he should have picked a plainer one. “Anyways, thanks for saving my life.”

“You’re welcome,” said Inger grudgingly.

They reached the end of the alleyway at last, turning out onto the main road again. The city gates were just ahead. Rye started moving for them, but Inger grabbed Rye's cloak in his mouth.

“Not that way. We’ll be using a small postern in the wall to the southwest. I don’t want to attract any more attention that we already have.”

“Then shouldn’t we go through the gate? We’ll be lost in the crowd.”

“Hmm.” The Firewing thought for a moment. “You have a point. I just hope nopony recognizes you—”

“Rye! Rye!” The familiar voice called above the bustle of the crowd.

Inger swore. “Blast it all. She’s seen us. Let’s go, she might think she was mistaken.”

“Oh, I don’t think she will…” Rye looked behind them to see Cranberry racing down the street.

“Rye! Hey, wait up!” Cranberry galloped up to them, breathing heavily. “Hey, there you are! I’ve been looking for you. Your parents are worried sick. I thought maybe you were out at the Salt Lick again, but—” she suddenly noticed Inger. “Who’re you?”

Rye put up a hoof to slow her down. “Uh, Cranberry, this really isn’t a good time.”

“Rye, what’s going on?” Cranberry’s face was rapidly growing confused. “This guy looks like a soldier. Where are you going?”

Inger butted in. “We’re on royal business, citizen. We don’t have time to chat. If you’ll excuse us…” He coughed, looking expectantly at Rye. He jerked his head toward the gate.

The pegacorn looked back at Cranberry. “Look, I’m sorry, Cranberry. This is really important. I’d tell you more if I could, but I can’t. Can you take a message back to my mother for me?”

“That’s just it, Rye, I can’t! I went to the bakery this morning and I overheard your parents talking. Your mother has, uh…” Cranberry swallowed. “She’s been called up to the castle on duty.”

“What?!”

"Your mother's in the military?" asked Inger. Cranberry and Rye ignored him.

“They said something about griffons, and an army—I didn’t catch most of it.”

“No, that would make sense,” said Rye, thinking. “The Princess can’t put all her chips down on our mission alone. She needs to prepare.”

“The Princess? You talked to Princess Celestia?” Cranberry’s mouth hung a little slack. “Wait a minute, what mission? Rye, what is going on?"

“Look, we’re headed north to Sleipnord to—”

“Sleipnord?”

Inger burst in. “Quiet!” He glared at Rye. “This isn’t your concern, Miss…”

“Cranberry. Cranberry Sugar.” She looked quite unhappy by this point.

“Miss Sugar. Please go about your business. This conversation never happened.” He planted his head on Rye’s rump and pushed him toward the gate. “Let’s go.”

“Tell my father I’m safe!” shouted Rye over his shoulder.

“I will!” Cranberry yelled, before vanishing from view as Rye and Inger pushed into the crowd.

As they fought through the throng of ponies, Inger spoke angrily. “What were you thinking, telling her about Sleipnord?”

“Sorry, it’s just…” He shoved past a merchant. “Cranberry loves this sort of thing. It’s really her that should be going on this trip, not me.”

Inger rolled his eyes. “Civilians.” He shook his head. “Sisters preserve us.”

Comments

[dghxcvr]

NICEEE :) i love it! keep it ups! (FIRST )

[Subatomic Seal]

Inger's sort of an ass. (I'm just making the comments I never got the chance to make during my original read)

[PaulAsaran]

The world always seems darkest just before the sun rises. I should know.

Pardon my disdainful groan. Part of it is for the cliche line, but my agitation has more to do with the assumption that the darkness is inherently bad. It's things like this that led to Luna's banishment in the first place. Seems for all her supposed pain, Celestia still hasn't learned her lesson. Typical.

Also, how in the name of Luna can Ingred not recognize the name Strudel if it belongs to the Captain of the Firewings? Who doesn't know the name of the head honcho? You think there's a single Wonderbolt in all of modern Equestria that doesn't know Spitfire's name? This reeks of absurd, uncharacteristic/unrealistic behavior forced upon a character purely for the sake of the story. For shame.

I share Ingred's frustration. When you're going on a mission designed to be clandestine because violent griffons and bickering politicians are watching the normal channels like hawks, you don't blurt specifics to your best friend. I get it, Rye's not used to this, but good lord, how do you make such an obvious mistake? 1000 bits says somepony finds out about the mission because of this, which may or may not lead to Cranberry becoming caught in the crossfire.

[Golden Fang Ryu Shenron]

“Hurry, pegacorn,” called Inger. He rushed ahead to catch up.

Wow, Inger is being a real ass here...the least he can do is call Inger by his first name?