Penumbra

by Deep Pond

Strategies

Of all the sights she had seen that day, Twilight Sparkle decided, the vision of Fluttershy leading a pair of griffins bearing a wounded Rainbow Dash to the pony encampment was by far the strangest. Despite the yellow pegasus's insistence that the griffins were friendly, they were watched with manic intensity by all the nearby ponies, and the injured Dash was quickly bundled away to one of the healers' wagons.

Twilight was intent on speaking with the griffins – here was a golden opportunity to learn at least something about their adversaries – but the raptorian creatures did not linger. Spreading their wings, they performed what looked like a bow or a salute in the direction of the ponies, then took to the air. Despite some misgivings, Twilight gestured for the pegasi to let them depart unmolested; after all, they had risked much to return Rainbow Dash, and Twilight could not in good conscience repay that with an unprovoked assault.

She wondered briefly whether that made her a good leader or a bad one.

The defenders of Ponyville were not in good spirits. The day had ended in defeat, if a less crushing one than might have been, and it was a weary and dispirited army that marched now. McIntosh had decided that the hillside was untenable as a defensive position, and at his advice, Twilight had given the orders.

They were withdrawing to a position some ten miles away, halfway between Ponyville and what was already being called the Battle of the Fields, where a bend of the Horseshoe River cut through the farmland. A narrow band of land between the river and the Everfree Forest, perhaps half a mile wide, was to be their next point of defense. Although there were a few scattered, outlying farms beyond that point, it was there that the orchards began.

The area they had chosen to defend was, in fact, the site of an orchard belonging to an earth pony family named Stock. The Stocks managed about twenty acres of apple trees, but had packed their family up and headed to Ponyville when the news spread.

I hope they have something to return to, Twilight thought grimly. She was surveying the area with Applejack at her side, taking a few precious moments to gather her thoughts. The orange earth pony leaned against a tree to take the weight off her right foreleg, which had been badly bruised in the battle.

“Acting Mayor Sparkle?”

Twilight turned to the speaker: Silver Gleam, the commander of the unicorn forces. “Yes, Silver?”

“I have the report on the casualties you requested,” the gray unicorn said. Flipping a hank of slate-blue hair out of his eyes, he levitated a scrap of parchment. “We lost fifteen earth ponies, mostly from Yellow, Green and Black Companies, including Lieutenant Oak Hoof. Another twenty-seven are seriously wounded. Counting Lieutenant Applejack here, fifty-four are wounded less seriously . . . this, by the way, excludes anypony with minor cuts or bruises but still combat-capable.”

Twilight nodded.

“Crimson and Russet Companies were largely untouched, with only a few minor injuries reported. Of the pegasus ponies, we've lost six, with another fifteen unable to fly . . . including Lieutenant Dash. I might add that nearly half of those fifteen owe their lives to a healer named Fluttershy. Acting Lieutenant Cloud Kicker has taken over for the duration.”

Silver Gleam paused as Twilight closed her eyes. Don't think about it, she told herself firmly. Just absorb the information and use it. Aloud, she said “Continue, Lieutenant.”

“Of course. That leaves the unicorns.” He cleared his throat. “Ah . . . we have five unicorns missing and confirmed dead, and another twelve seriously injured.” He hesitated.

“G'won, spit it out,” Applejack called impatiently. Silver ducked his head, embarrassed.

“Of course. We have . . . lost one unit of unicorns, though they are not confirmed dead. However, I have several eyewitnesses who reported diamond dogs carrying away live ponies.”

Twilight stared. “They're taking prisoners?”

“So it would appear,” he said.

Twilight and Applejack exchanged horrified glances. “That ain't good,” the earth pony said bluntly.

“I'll say it's not,” agreed Twilight. “Didn't you say something about unicorns before? When you escaped from the diamond dogs, and you saw the . . .”

“The bodies,” Applejack agreed. “Yep. There weren't no unicorns there, an' Ah know at least a couple of 'em were killed.”

Silver Gleam glanced back and forth between the two mares. “But . . . if they are taking prisoners, why just unicorns?”

“The only thing I can think of,” said Twilight slowly, eyes focused somewhere else, “is that unicorn have magic. And – Applejack, you said that Fallax Equa is Trixie, but . . . changed?”

Applejack nodded. “She's bigger an' taller,” she agreed immediately. “Her coat's darker, and her eyes went all freaky-like when she got mad.”

“So if Fallax Equa is this Trixie,” put in Silver Gleam, “and she's changed physically since the last time you saw her . . . and she's abducting unicorns . . . where does that leave us?”

The three ponies exchanged blank glances. After a moment, Twilight shook her head.

“We just don't have enough information to guess,” she said tiredly. “Is that all, Silver?”

“I suppose so,” the unicorn said dejectedly. “On a more personal note, I would like to apologize for the unicorn forces' lack of impact. It seems I radically overestimated their prowess.”

“That's not your fault,” Twilight said kindly. “None of us but McIntosh have any real experience at this.”

“Unfortunately, only a dozen or so show any real talent for battle-magic,” Silver continued. “Nopony around here has ever used their magic for anything but mundane tasks, and they just don't have the instinct for it. And the ones that do, sad to say, lack the raw power to use it effectively.”

“Too bad there isn't some way to combine their power,” Twilight commented.

Silver Gleam stared at her. “That's brilliant.”

“What?”

“Combining their power. I don't know why I never thought of it before! I have one hundred and seventy-three unicorns . . . if fourteen of them have useful battle-magic, that means each one can have a support corps of, let's see . . . eleven, with five left over . . . I can assign them to . . .”

He wandered away, still muttering to himself. Twilight watched him go with a sigh.

“Celestia,” she said in a tired tone of voice. “We've lost an entire company.”

“Ah beg your pardon?”

She looked up at Applejack. “The earth ponies. We're down a full twenty percent of our earth pony forces.”

Applejack frowned. “Ah know Ah ain't all that good with fancy mathematics,” she allowed, “but how do y'all got that figured?”

“You heard Silver. Fifteen dead, eighty-one wounded. Including you,” she added, pointing towards Applejack's injured leg.

To her surprise, the farm pony burst out laughing. “Ah keep forgettin',” she chuckled, “that you ain't never lived around earth ponies afore y'all came to Ponyville.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Twilight, let me tell y'all something. Unicorns have magic, and pegasus ponies have wings. Do y'all know what earth ponies have?”

“I know you can grow food, but –”

“Earth ponies are tough,” Applejack said emphatically. “This here leg's gonna be good as new by tomorrow mornin'. And those, how many, fifty-four Silver said were lightly wounded? If less'n fifty of them are ready for a fight come mornin', Ah'm a zebra. We heal fast, filly, and we're hard to keep down.”

“Are – are you sure about this?”

“Would Ah lie to you?”

Twilight's head spun. That means . . . if I keep Crimson and Russet at full strength, the other three companies can go to about eighty-five ponies each . . . under-strength, but not crippled . . . and that means . . .

Her head snapped up. “Thank you, Applejack,” she said.

“T'ain't no problem, Miss Actin' Mayor.”

“Now, “ Twilight added, catching sight of a familiar red figure some distance away, “I have something else I need to deal with.”

---

“You never expected us to win that battle, did you?”

Twilight eyed McIntosh sharply. They were some distance away from the main camp, beneath a massive, spreading apple tree: as private a place as they were likely to find.

“Eenope.”

“Then do you care to explain to your 'leader' exactly why we fought it?”

McIntosh turned his head, holding the fuming unicorn's gaze for a moment. “Ah've fought in battle before, Miss Twilight. Y'all an' Applejack an' your friends have fought monsters an' all. Y'all have at least some idea of what fightin' is like.”

He indicated the ponies with a toss of his head. “They don't. They ain't never been in nothing worse than a few scuffles as foals. Fightin's a terrible thing, an' there ain't no way to prepare for it 'cept by doin' it.”

“So . . .” Twilight pondered his words. “You deliberately sent them into a battle they couldn't win, to give them some experience? That seems awfully harsh.”

McIntosh nodded. “War is hell,” he said succinctly. “You have to kill, an' that's harder than anypony who ain't done it can understand. You have to be ready to die, any time, for no reason at all. An' you have to watch your friends die, known' you can't do nothin' to save them.”

Twilight said nothing.

“Ah did the best Ah could to give our side a fightin' chance,” McIntosh continued. “And the best Ah could do was to give them a taste of real fightin' in the most controlled situation Ah could find. Ah didn't expect those dog reinforcements. Ah also didn't expect our side to hold together as well as they did.

“But now they know what fightin' is like. If they were goin' to break, they'd have done it then. Now you an' Ah can make real plans to defend Ponyville.”

Twilight was silent for a time. McIntosh stood patiently as she pondered, eyes half-lidded as though utterly at peace. Finally the purple unicorn heaved a sigh and looked up at him.

“I don't like it,” she told him frankly, “but I trust your judgment in this more than my own. So. Now that we have a . . . battle-hardened force, what do we do with them?”

McIntosh surveyed the land around them: the orchards, the patchwork farms, the rolling hills. “We earth ponies have lived here for near a hundred years,” he said. “We know this land. They don't. We're goin' to use that.”

---

Well, that was close to a complete disaster.

Sigmund folded his wings and regarded the army of Fallax Equa. Beside him, Klaus preened his feathers with apparent unconcern, but the Wingleader of the Red Feathers was not deceived: little escaped Klaus's notice.

The two griffins were perched on the hillside that had been lately occupied by the defending ponies: a pointless gesture, perhaps, but a token of victory nonetheless. Below them, spreading out in a disorganized mass, was the army of diamond dogs, the mysterious bank of mist that held together in defiance of all nature, and their erstwhile mistress, the dark pony Fallax Equa.

Sigmund suppressed a shudder at the thought of the mare. There was something unnatural about her, about her eerie, venomous stare, about her mannerisms. She would often react to sounds no one else heard, or stand in an attitude of listening, with no one nearby. She was larger, too, than any pony he had ever met, standing almost a head taller than the griffins

And what she had done with those unicorns . . . it did not bear considering. Sigmund was a warrior born, and had no qualms about dealing out death to the enemy, but that had been quite simply horrible. He blessed the stars that he had not witnessed the actual slaying; seeing those . . . husks that had been left behind was more than enough. Even the diamond dogs seemed unnerved.

Rumor held that she did it to fuel her magic, preying on the unicorns like some sort of vampire. Sigmund half believed it. Certainly Fallax Equa commanded powerful magic, and that power had to come from somewhere.

He cast a glance skyward, towards the dead-gray cloud that enveloped Ponyville and the land around it in an immense dome, changing daylight into an eerie dusk and night into a smothering, dead-black gloom. Fallax Equa had declared that it would protect the invaders from detection by the Royal Sisters, Celestia and Luna, and it was on this that all their hopes hung.

Sigmund was well aware that either of the legendary alicorns could wipe out their entire force with little effort, but their hope was to present the Princesses with a fait accompli – with Ponyville conquered and the inhabitants in the power of the griffins and dogs, the Sisters would be unable to unleash their full power. Sigmund suspected that King Aquila intended to bargain, trading the lives of the surviving ponies for permanent ownership of Ponyville and its environs. Such an arrangement would severely weaken the Princesses in the eyes of the nobility – at least, by griffin logic – while reinforcing Aquila as a powerful and dangerous monarch. It was a gamble, but the ponies – plant-eaters, all – were much softer-natured than the griffins. Weaker.

At least, so Sigmund had always believed. After the events of the day, he was no longer so certain.

The invasion was supposed to be easy. An army – well, a mob, really – of diamond dogs to clog up the battlefield, allowing the griffins to concentrate on their aerial supremacy. After breaking the pegasus defense, they would engage in dive-bomb attacks on the ground-bound ponies until their enemies surrendered. Outnumbered, outmatched, and unsuited by nature to warfare, the farmers and townsponies should have folded quickly. A few deaths, a minimal number of serious injuries, and then an enormous number of cowed and peaceable prisoners. So Fallax Equa had assured them.

That was not precisely what had occurred.

The first surprise had been the mere fact that the ponies had taken the battle to them. Sigmund supposed he should have expected it, after the diamond dogs had failed to hold Fallax Equa's special prisoner for even a full day. His Red Feathers had reported a number of pegasus ponies observing them from a distance, but Sigmund had not imagined they could be scouting in the military sense.

That was a mistake, he acknowledged. And not my last.

The appearance of the army – an actual army, not merely a rag-tag rabble of stallions – had caught the Red Feathers shamefully off-guard. Even so, weight of numbers and the griffins' superior fighting skill should have carried the day.

Should have.

But the ponies, Sigmund mused, simply would not quit. What the pegasi had lacked in training, strength, and natural armaments, they made up for in speed, agility, and raw, unflinching courage. Sigmund had seen pastel ponies with flowers on their flanks striking down his elite warriors like berserkers. He had seen pegasi, wing-crippled or horribly slashed, drag their slayers out of the sky with them through grim determination. He had seen ponies meet griffins with fury and courage that any Red Feather could appreciate.

But that was not what impressed him the most.

He had seen that blue pegasus with the rainbow hair rallying her troops time and again, always diving into the hottest part of the fray as though she had a death wish. He had seen her taken on Red Feather veterans with years of experience, and make them look like hatchlings. And finally, when her best efforts were not enough, when there was no way the ponies could possibly carry the day . . . he had seen her change the rules.

She saw that victory was impossible, so she upended the game board.

He had heard rumors of the so-called “sonic rainboom,” and had always dismissed them as pony tales out of Equestria. But that was no pony tale. That . . . was devastating.

And yet, that was still not what had impressed him the most.

No, that was a small, yellow pegasus who – despite being a noncombatant, despite being scared out of her mind, despite being a few hundred yards away from literally thousands of enemies who would kill her in a heartbeat – had made it her mission to heal the injured.

Sigmund glanced again at the neat dressing on Klaus's left foreleg. The injured of both sides, regardless of the peril. That took a very special kind of courage.

And she had demonstrated another kind, as well, when she faced down first a diamond dog, and then Sigmund himself and three of his Wingbrothers over the body of her fallen captain. She had expected no mercy, she had known she was virtually defenseless, and yet she had defied them all.

No griffin could be unmoved by such courage. Sigmund thought he was beginning to understand how Princess Gilda had called one of these ponies “friend” for so many years.

And the Princess had proved that friendship, too.

Sigmund came out of his reverie to find Klaus eyeing him with an unreadable expression. “What are you thinking, Wingleader?”

“That these ponies are more than we expected,” Sigmund said. “That that dark mare we follow has many secrets. That we have lost Aquila's daughter in our first engagement.”

Klaus blinked. “She was far from his favorite child.”

“Yet she was a Goldfeather, and she gave her life to save an enemy.”

Klaus nodded shortly. “Unexpected.”

“Many unexpected things have occurred this day, old friend.” With a sigh, Sigmund got to his feet. “I think it is time we had another talk with our glorious leader.”

---

The diamond dogs were rushing about, as frantic as an anthill stirred with a stick, but nowhere near as coordinated. Some were busy dragging the dead away to a mass grave; others carried wounded dogs to where their healers – such as they were – worked. The griffins had already attended to their own wounded, unwilling to leave them to the clumsy paws of the dogs, and all that could be saved were recuperating in the center of the griffins' encampment.

The block of mist still stood in the center of the camp like a monolith, stirring sluggishly but still maintaining its form. Sigmund eyed it. She must be holding it together with magic, for whatever reason. What's inside it? Why doesn't she share that knowledge with her “trusted allies?”

He walked through the bustling camp, Klaus limping painfully at his side. Sigmund deliberately set a slow pace, and would have flown the short distance instead of walking, but he knew Klaus would view this as a concession to his own weakness. That would be an insult worse than any pain to the injured warrior, so Sigmund compromised as much as he was able and pretended not to hear the pained gasps and muttered oaths as Klaus made his way.

They were joined by other griffins, as they took note of the Wingleader's progress and deduced its meaning. In short order, a half-dozen griffins were making their slow, deliberate way toward the center of camp: the surviving leadership of the Red Feathers, those who followed Sigmund on this perilous venture. The diamond dogs quickly gave way before this assemblage of raptorian ferocity.

It seemed that the canine army was preparing to pursue the ponies, but Sigmund doubted they could make much progress before the end of the day. The dogs were not built for overland travel, while the ponies were. Moreover, the ponies – as had been shown in no uncertain terms – were herd creatures. They could and would work together in a coordinated fashion, something the brutish dogs seemed to have only a rudimentary grasp of.

Picking their way through the dogs, the griffins came eventually to the large, gray tent that was the headquarters of Fallax Equa. The unicorn herself was standing before the tent, delivering instructions to a pack of diamond dogs. By their decorations – vests, collars, and other gem-studded accessories – Sigmund guessed them to be the leadership of the canines.

“. . . And we will not tolerate a duplication of this miserable showing,” the pony was declaring to the cowed dogs. “Yes, there was fighting. Yes, dogs have died. This is war. Our enemies are farmers and townsponies, and we expected better from the mighty diamond dogs. When next we clash, the ponies will be overwhelmed, is that understood? We will deploy our secret weapon against them, and you dogs will show your mettle. You wish slaves and gems and an easy life? Then earn them.”

That seemed to be a dismissal, for the dogs all nodded or bowed to their leader, then scattered. Fallax Equa turned to regard the griffins, and Sigmund was struck by how much she had changed from the mysterious pony who had first sought out King Aquila and promised him a portion of Equestria, and a chance to strike out at the all-powerful Sisters.

She stood taller now, having grown physically if that was possible. Her coat, originally a charcoal-blue, had darkened to near black, with only a hint of its former blue coloration to be seen. Her mane and tail, once slatey blue, had done the opposite: they gray had faded, leaving them a darker blue than before. Her horn seemed sharper, her legs longer, and her armor – Sigmund would have sworn that it had expanded to cover more of her body. The black metal plates now covered her chest and sides, and the helmet left only her face exposed, with a small hole through which her horn protruded. Elaborate metal shoes covered her hooves and extended up past her hocks.

But the most dramatic change was her eyes. Sigmund was certain that, when he had first encountered Fallax Equa, her eyes had been a grayish magenta. Her gaze had been intense, but no more so than any griffins; her eyes had looked like any other pony's.

But now . . .

Now those eyes were a vivid turquoise, angled like a dragon's eyes, with the vertical pupils of a reptile. Her gaze was piercing, as though she was looking into your very soul, and Sigmund repressed a shudder as those uncanny eyes transfixed him.

Sigmund offered her a quick bob of the head, which the other griffins duplicated immediately. “General,” he said politely.

“Yes?”

“On behalf of the Red Feathers, I request an explanation.” With an effort of will he held that eerie gaze. “We have followed you in good faith, we have made war on the ponies at your command. We were promised an easy conquest. We found a determined enemy with unexpected skill and courage.”

The other griffins were silent as Sigmund spoke.

“We are warriors. We are no strangers to battle and death, but we were assured that these ponies were soft, peaceable, and weak-willed. We were not given to expect . . . what we faced.

“This day we have lost nearly thirty griffins, in a battle we had no reason to anticipate, against forces we could not hope to counter. Another dozen are wounded so severely they are unable to fight. Among the fallen is our leader, our princess, Gilda Goldfeather.

“We request an explanation,” the Wingleader repeated. “Why are we here? Where is this easy victory you promised us? What is here that is worth our Princess's life?”

The other Red Feathers made sounds of agreement, wings rustling. Only Klaus held his beak. Fallax Equa regarded them, her expression unreadable.

“Is this,” she said after several long moments had passed, “the vaunted courage of the Red Feathers?”

Sigmund's head jerked back as if he had been slapped.

“I expected such attitudes from the dogs,” she continued in a calm, reasonable voice. “After all, they are . . . undisciplined. But this is war. There will be death on both sides. I would expect warriors of a race of warriors to understand this.

“Your princess chose to fight for her country. She died in battle. Are you going to make her sacrifice meaningless? Are you going to let her die at the hooves of these ponies and simply turn and flee? Is this the honor, the fighting spirit, of the Red Feathers of Griffonica?”

This drew some angry muttering as griffins flexed their wings or scratched at the ground with their claws. “We are no cowards!” muttered someone. Sigmund felt rage creeping through his mind.

Fallax Equa glared at the griffins. “Or are you going to take that death, the pain and rage it brings you, and use it? Use it to take vengeance on those who slew Princess Gilda. Use it to show yourselves worthy of her sacrifice. Use it to take this land in her name! Use it to show those grass-eaters what it means to take the life of a griffin princess!”

Feathers bristled. One of the Red Feathers let loose an incoherent battle-cry. Fallax Equa reared to her full height.

“Prepare yourselves, then! Tomorrow, we fight. Tomorrow we redeem our honor. Tomorrow we take this land for Princess Gilda!”

The Red Feathers erupted in cheers.