Penumbra

by Deep Pond

The Duel

Cloud Kicker circled as Twilight and the others fled their hillside command post. Below, the earth pony companies, Crimson and Russet, were pulling away, hampered by the panic-stricken ranks of the diamond dogs. Most of the canines seemed as terrified of the hydra as the ponies were, but their frantic efforts to get clear of the monster only served to bog the ponies down.

Worse, the other earth ponies and their associated unicorns were pouring out of the orchards in a desperate effort to regroup, pursued by yet more dogs. A chaotic scrum of equines and canines filled the clearing, and in the midst of it the hydra towered. Its four heads raked the crowd, tearing through ponies and the occasional hapless dog, wreaking frightful devastation.

Sisters above, Cloud Kicker thought in horror, it's massacring them. She glanced wildly about, looking for some way, any way, she could help. It was useless; the hydra was just too big. There was no way the pegasi could hurt it; they would be no more dangerous than horseflies.

Horseflies . . .

“Rainbow Company!” she shouted at the top of her lungs. “To me!”

Pegasi came, crowding about her, eyes wide with panic. Cloud Kicker forced herself to remain calm as she gestured towards the hydra. “Rainbows! The earth ponies need us. The hydra is slaughtering them. We have to help them!”

“How!” demanded a tan colt with a green mane. “What can we do but get killed?”

“Distract it,” she returned. “Swoop in and out. Get its attention. Get it away from the others. We're pegasi, we can do it! Use our speed and our agility to tie its necks in knots!”

There was uneasy murmuring among the pegasus ponies, and a few broke ranks and fled southward. Cloud Kicker stared about her, frustrated beyond endurance.

“Our friends and our neighbors are dying!” she burst out. “Our brothers and sisters, who've fought for days against impossible odds! Rainbow Dash nearly burned her wings off for them! How can we call ourselves Rainbow Company and still turn away?”

“She's right,” called Cool Star, his expression grim. “We have to do something. We owe it to Rainbow Dash, if nothing else. She gave everything she had for Ponyville; can we do any less?”

They weren't all convinced, but Cloud Kicker would waste no more time. “Follow me!” she shouted. “For Rainbow Dash! For Ponyville!”

“For Rainbow Dash!” came a chorus of cries, and over fifty pegasus ponies hurtled towards the hydra like a swarm of multicolored bees.

The beast ignored them, savaging the earth ponies, until them were almost upon it. One monstrous head lifted to observe the new arrivals, and Cloud Kicker, in the lead, aimed directly for it. As its green eyes widened, she put on a burst of speed and crashed directly into its face, hooves-first. The hydra jerked in surprise, and the other heads lifted.

It stank, she realized suddenly: a fetid odor like ancient swamp mud, dead and rotten. The miasmic smell clung to the hydra like a shroud, and Cloud Kicker found herself irrationally wondering how much worse it must have smelled before the mud had dried on its scaled hide.

Pegasi swarmed about it, kicking and bucking, racing between the monster's necks. The beast's attention turned away from the earth ponies and unicorns to regard these new attackers. Cloud Kicker shot by another head, catching its attention; the great jaws opened, but too slow. Pegasi whirled, kicking, shrieking.

Below, the earth ponies broke into a gallop, streaming away from the bloody battlefield. Diamond dogs ran frantically about, lacking any clear direction but obviously as terrified of the hydra as the ponies were. Ponies and dogs ran shoulder to shoulder, their antagonism drowned under mutual fear.

It's working! We're doing it! Oh Sisters, I'm so scared! thought Cloud Kicker, wheeling around for another pass. The hydra, now thoroughly roused, suddenly struck like a monstrous cobra. A pale blue pegasus with a yellow mane shrieked as the great mouth closed over her, her voice abruptly cut off. Another, a gray stallion, whinnied pitifully as a wing was torn loose from his side; he spiraled groundward in a spray of blood. The hydra's four heads turned, eyes tracking the pegasi.

For an instant, the situation hung in a precarious balance; the hydra's attention and the sudden, brutal deaths rattling Rainbow Company's determination. The pegasi circled, poise between flight and battle.

Swallowing her fear, Cloud Kicker glanced downward, Perhaps a third of the surviving earth ponies were clear, but the rest were still caught between the orchards and freedom, embroiled in the chaotic melee of dogs and equines. Just have to hold it a little longer . . .

“Those are our friends down there, Rainbows!” she shouted, gesturing groundward. “They've fought and bled and died to keep us safe, to keep our children safe! Are we going to abandon them now?”

With that, she hurled herself towards the hydra once more, her heart in her throat. One huge head turned to follow her, and she felt her heart nearly stop as its gazed focused on her. Those huge green eyes flickered turquoise, and the head shot forward.

Unable to hold back a shriek of terror, Cloud Kicker flew in a tight loop; the hydra's head passed beneath her, its teeth snagging the tip of her tail and ripping loose a hank of hair. She shot down its neck, following the spine, drawing the other heads' attention. The pegasi of Rainbow Company, heartened, surged forward once more.

The hydra struck. Pegasi died, or slipped past its jaws by the narrowest of margins, but there was no longer any sign of wavering. The winged ponies whirled about their enemy like a multicolored cyclone, relentless. They strike and swooped, distracting, maddening. Feathers flew, and ponies died, but they would not yield.

Gasping for breath, Cloud Kicker threw herself higher, out of the hydra's range, and surveyed the battlefield. Most of the earth ponies and unicorns had broken free of the diamond dogs, and nearly half the pegasus ponies were gone – killed, wounded, or fled, she could not be sure. The survivors continued to harass the reptilian beast, if anything, more fiercely than before.

A yellow mare – Raindrops – caromed off the hydra's head, distracting it from a wounded stallion. The monster turned as Raindrops struggled to gain altitude, its maw gaping as it rose behind her. Cloud Kicker saw at a glance that Raindrops would never get clear in time.

She never hesitated. Folding her wings, she plunged straight down at Raindrops. If I hit her too hard I'll just kill her myself, or stun her and make her fall . . . got to time this just right . . .

At the last instant, Raindrops looked up, her blue eyes widening when she saw Cloud Kicker. Simultaneously, the lieutenant of Rainbow Company spread her wings, breaking hard. All four hooves struck the yellow mare, and she shoved her away with a shouted “Go!”

Raindrops tumbled clear. Cloud Kicker, her momentum broken, flapped madly in place, but she already knew it was hopeless. The hydra's mouth gaped before her like a red cavern.

Sisters, let it be quick.

---

This seems to be a day for . . . surprises, thought Sigmund. The hydra had been one, and not a pleasant one. While he could not deny its efficacy, he was less than thrilled to see it at all. It was feral, brutish, and unpredictable, and it had thrown the diamond dogs into utter panic.

Small wonder, when our “glorious leader” chose to keep it a secret even from her purported allies. Had I known, I could have planned for this! Damn her secrecy.

That the hydra had broken the Ponyville defense was not a surprise. The reaction from the pegasi, however, definitely was. Sigmund had fought in many battles, and had seen many acts of courage, but nothing to equal this. Circling high above the Everfree Forest, his keen eyes were focused on the pegasus ponies' gallant, hopeless battle against the swamp beast.

They can't win. The have to know that. They can't even hurt it, and yet they throw themselves against it like a mother defending her chicks.

Even as he watched, another pony was torn from the sky. The others flew in a frenzy, attacking, distracting . . . buying precious time for their ground-bound allies.

These ponies . . . He could not find the words. Expecting weakness and cowardice, he had found strength and courage and raw, iron-willed determination. He could scarcely believe it, yet he could not deny it.

Perhaps it is time to reconsider, he mused. With a quick gesture he folded his wings and dove, the other Red Feathers following him, Klaus at his left. Despite his bandaged foreleg, Klaus would not be left behind, and Sigmund knew better than to suggest it.

The griffins descended to a tiny clearing in the midst of the orchards, the site of much bloody fighting this day, now firmly in the possession of Fallax Equa and her allies. As they reached treetop level, viridian lighting erupted from the clearing, exploding upwards as if the air itself had shattered. The Red Feathers wheeled in confusion; then, as the display died away, Sigmund and the other leaders of the griffins descended cautiously once more.

They came upon a scene of carnage. For an instant Sigmund thought that the ponies had somehow launched an attack on Fallax Equa herself – after the events of the day, it would scarcely have surprised him – but it was not so. The dark mare stood alone in the center of the clearing, her horn and her eyes alight with turquoise fire. The stench of blood and ozone and charred flesh filled the air. The corpses of diamond dogs and unicorns lay scattered about her, the latter possessing that unsettling, hollow look that Sigmund knew was due to them being drained of magic by Fallax Equa.

She ignored the arrival of the griffins, focusing her gaze on a diamond dog cowering at the edge of the clearing, and Sigmund realized that she had changed yet more. Now she towered over him on long, slender legs, and her coat had darkened to a velvety, midnight blue that was almost black. Her mane and tail, by contrast, were a fiery cobalt, and seemed almost to float of their own accord.

A turquoise glow appeared around the cowering dog, and it was jerked off its paws and hurtled through the air, stopping only when the tip of Fallax Equa's horn actually touched its chest. The dog stared down at her, its eyes enormous.

“As for you,” Fallax Equa said, glaring up at the creature, in the voice of one continuing a lecture “do you feel as your comrades did? Do you also believe you know what is best for my army?”

The dog glanced reflexively at the corpses of its erstwhile peers, scorched and charred, and shook its head vigorously.

“Good,” hissed Fallax Equa. The turquoise glow winked out, and the dog fell to the ground. “You are hereby promoted to the rank of supreme commander of the diamond dogs. Do not fail me.”

The dog clambered to its feet and regarded Fallax Equa, clearly wanting to bolt but terrified of doing so. Sigmund saw a trickle of blood running down its chest, and a spot of similar color decorated the very tip of the unicorn's horn.

“Now,” hissed Fallax Equa, “you dogs will continue to press the ponies, because I have commanded it. The hydra is mine; I control it, and you will remain safe so long as you obey my orders. I will have Ponyville's defense broken by nightfall. Dismissed.”

The dog shot away as if its tail was on fire, and Fallax Equa's attention turned to the griffins. “Red Feathers,” she said simply.

Reflexively, Sigmund ducked his head in a quick bow. “Fallax Equa,” he began.

“I have need of you. The ponies seek to flee before my hydra, and these –” she gestured in the direction of the vanished diamond dog – “are all but useless. I shall be busy . . . hunting,” she added, gesturing casually to the southwest.

Sigmund opened his beak, but the unicorn ignored him. “Fly. Find the earth ponies before they reach safety. Hold them. Hold them for my hydra.”

“You want us to hold the earth ponies?” Sigmund heard himself saying. “General, the Red Feathers are –”

“I want you to follow my orders, Wingleader,” she snapped, cutting him off. “By the oath you swore to serve your king. Do not show cowardice now.”

Sigmund ground his beak in stifled rage. “As you command,” he managed in a thick voice. “It will be done, damn you.”

He turned to the other griffins, eyes narrowed with fury.

“You heard her. We fly.”

---

Somehow, impossibly, they were doing it. The pegasus ponies, in a staggering display of courage, were holding the hydra's attention so their earth pony brethren could break free, and Applejack did not intend to waste an instant of their sacrifice. Bellowing at the top of her considerable voice, limping on a badly bruised foreleg, she chivvied the earth ponies – she could no longer tell what Company, nor did she care – away from the battlefield, calling to them to forget the dogs and run. For their part, the majority of the diamond dogs had no further stomach for fighting, seemingly as terrified of the hydra as the ponies were.

Those few who felt otherwise soon discovered that one game leg did not make Granny Smith's granddaughter significantly less dangerous. She was muddy-hoofed and spattered with blood, little of it her own. Her hat, miraculously still atop her head, had acquired several new cuts and dents. Her blonde mane and tail were caked with blood, and her green eyes were wild.

“Get outta here, y'all! Stop runnin' around like a bunch of brainless chickens and go!” Applejack roared. Most of the earth ponies and unicorns were gone; the last few dozen were extricating themselves from the dogs and galloping southward. Unwilling to flee while others remained in danger, Applejack found herself one of the last surviving ponies on the bloody field. She glanced skyward, saw the remaining pegasi breaking away from their monstrous opponent.

Fair wind, y'all, she thought with heartfelt gratitude. Time Ah was getting' along mah own self.

Suiting action to thought, she turned to the south, only to stop short at what met her eyes. A wagon, the ponies intended to pull it having long since vanished, stood at the base of the slope that defined the southern edge of the battlefield. In it were ponies – injured ponies, some unconscious – nearly a dozen. As she stared, a yellow pegasus with a pink mane and tail heaved a limp and bleeding earth pony stallion into the wagon with numerous apologies.

“Fluttershy!” shouted Applejack. “What in the hay are you doin'?”

Fluttershy looked up. “He's the last one,” she said, moving to the front of the wagon and grabbing the traces in her mouth. “I couldn't save them all, but I got as many as I could.”

“ 'Shy . . .” Applejack was at a loss for words.

Ignoring her, Fluttershy began tugging at the traces. The wagon shivered, then began to creep forward at a snail's pace. Bracing her hooves, the pegasus tugged harder.

“We don't have time!” Applejack said, the words twisting her gut. “Ah'm sorry – Ah'm so sorry – but we just can't save everypony! Use those wings and get out of here!”

“I'm – not – leaving – them!” Fluttershy insisted through a mouthful of rope. The wagon crept forward another six inches.

“Sugarcube, listen to me,” Applejack said insistently, stepping closer. “Ah wish it wasn't true, more'n anything, but –”

Fluttershy's eyes widened. “Look out!” she screamed, and Applejack leaped reflexively. One of the hydra's heads slammed down on the spot where she had been, its jaws – already spattered with pony blood –crashing shut with an audible clomp! A second head hovered above, eyeing Fluttershy and the wagon.

Without a word, the pegasus grabbed the traces once more and pulled. The wagon moved another foot.

“Go on!” called Applejack, turning to face the monster. “Get 'em to safety! Ah'll distract it!” Oh Lady, Ah'm a-gonna die, she thought to herself.

Turning, wincing as her bruised foreleg took her weight, the country pony bucked the hydra in the face. It was like bucking a mountain, but the reptilian beast seemed to feel it; its eyes flew open and the head retreated.

The other head came down more cautiously, its attention on Fluttershy and the wagon. Gathering herself, Applejack leaped, ignoring the pain that shot down her foreleg. She landed atop the creature's muzzle, glaring into its astonished green eyes.

“Get away from her!” she bellowed, rearing and delivering a double-hoofed strike to one glaring green eye. The hydra jerked and Applejack lost her balance, tumbling free. She struck the ground hard, her hat flying. Stunned, she raised her head and tried to make sense of the huge, blurry form towering above her . . . the wagon?

Kicking, she flopped over and saw the hydra. One head was rubbing itself against another's neck, while the remaining three stared down at her. Well, Ah got it's attention, she thought dazedly. She tried to get to her hooves, but pain lanced up her foreleg and she collapsed with a grunt. Her head was clearing, but she had no time.

A sound cut through the air: a fierce whinnying, high-pitched but seeming to make the very ground tremble. The hydra paused, it's attention diverted. Applejack glanced over her shoulder to the source of the sound, blinking to clear her eyes.

At the top of the hill stood the form of Big McIntosh, Captain Crimson of the Equestrian Guard, massive in his bronze armor. He was spattered with blood, little of it his, and the Silver Comet gleamed on his armored chest like an evening star. He reared, pawing at the air, teeth bared, and uttered the challenging bellow of an enraged earth pony stallion.

Then he broke into a gallop, a heavy, deliberate gait. The sound of his hoofbeats on the dry hillside echoed through the air as he picked up speed, hurtling down towards the hydra. The four-headed monster, its attention distracted from the two mares and the wagon, regarded this new challenger with something like amusement. Seizing the opportunity, Applejack struggled to her hooves, shaking her head vigorously.

McIntosh rumbled past her without pause, straight towards the hydra. Reaching the beast's feet, deceptively tiny beneath its bulk but each still larger than he, he whirled with startling grace and delivered a shattering buck to the nearer foot. With a sound like a tree branch breaking in a high wind, one long toe snapped.

The hydra hissed in pain and shock, its heads swooping down to deal with this intruder. As the first head drew close, McIntosh leaped, his powerful hind legs hurling him into the air. Like his sister, he landed on the hydra's muzzle with surprising agility, standing balanced there for an endless moment.

Then he reared and threw himself forward, striking not with his hooves, but with his head. His muscular neck, propelled by the full force of his body, drove his bronze helmet straight into the hydra's enormous green eye.

The eye ruptured with a noise like a wineskin bursting, and the hydra's head jerked back as it emitted a hoarse hiss of agony. McIntosh tumbled backwards – he wasn't thrown, he jumped, Applejack realized – and landed squarely on all four hooves with a thud!

Then he charged again.

The hydra's three unwounded heads turned to follow him, their eyes flashing turquoise for an instant. Applejack reared, pawing the air, and uttered an enraged whinny of her own. The hydra ignored her, its attention focused on her brother as he galloped along the side of its enormous body, too close to strike. The hydra tried to edge sideways, away from the stallion, and hissed with pain as its injured toe moved.

It's the little things that get ya, Applejack thought hysterically, and dove forward. With the hydra distracted, she walked easily to its feet, under the shadow of its looming chest. Turning, she raised herself onto her forelegs, gritting her teeth against the pain of her injured leg, then bucked. Her whole body uncoiled, driving her hind hooves – legs strengthened by years of applebucking – straight into the hydra's already-broken toe.

A quadruple hissing scream cut the air, and the monster's bulk lurched away from Applejack. The earth pony raced away, barely evading the enraged creature's snapping jaws. Sheer luck saved her, as two hydra heads crashed into each other as both dove for their tormentor. The heads snarled at each other, momentarily distracted.

Circling the monster, Applejack saw that the other two heads – the one-eyed one and another – seemed to be trying to get behind the creature's own body. There was McIntosh; somehow he had gotten onto the hydra's tail and was now charging up its spine.

As she watched, the unwounded head struck at him. Applejack's heart lurched as her brother disappeared – then lurched again as the hydra reared back, and all four heads emitted another hoarse scream of pain, their eyes flashing turquoise again.

A bleeding wound was visible on the hydra's back, a wound exactly the size and shape of one of its own mouths. He done tricked it into bitin' itself! She had always known her brother was smart.

Well, Ma Apple didn't raise no fools, she thought as McIntosh came into view from around the other side of the hydra. “Mac!” she yelled. “Its eyes! They keep glowin' blue, like Fallax Equa's!”

McIntosh gave no sign that he had heard her; ears flat against his skull, eyes narrowed to slits, teeth bared, he was a picture of equine fury.

Glancing over her shoulder, Applejack saw that Fluttershy had somehow managed to drag the wagonload of wounded ponies a good dozen yards away. The yellow pegasus showed no sign of slowing, hauling away at the traces with single-minded determination.

The hydra eyed the Apples warily, its eyes maddened, but it hesitated. One head nuzzled the one-eyed one, and the other two shook themselves as if confused. Then . . . that sinister turquoise glow again, and the heads reoriented menacingly on the Apples.

They divided, two heads pursuing Applejack, two pursuing McIntosh. With one mind, the Apple siblings broke into a gallop, straight toward each other . . . and past each other, without slowing down. Following them, the hydra heads soon found themselves jerked to a halt as they pulled in opposite directions.

Applejack turned, a fierce grin on her face, to regard the frustrated reptile. The hydra untangled its heads, glaring at the ponies.

Then all four heads turned away . . . towards Fluttershy, still grimly dragging her wagon.

Oh, no no no no no! As the hydra began to crawl Applejack broke into a run, crossing between the swamp beast and the pegasus, trying desperately to draw its attention. Ahead she saw McIntosh, slower to react, turning as well.

One head turned to regard her, but the hydra continued to drag itself toward Fluttershy. Desperately, Applejack leaped atop a massive boulder protruding from the hillside, her bruised foreleg protesting. “Hey, big ugly!” she shouted at the top of her voice, tail lashing, ears down flat. “Come over here and fight me!”

One head veered towards her, jaws agape, green eyes narrowed with hatred. Applejack shouted insults at it, rearing, trying to draw as much attention as possible.

Without warning the hydra struck, its head darting down like a cobra's, jaws open wide, fangs gleaming. But fast as it was, Applejack was faster. She threw herself forward, toward the monster, hooves skimming the surface of the rock. The hydra tried to adjust its aim, and slammed into the boulder with tooth-shattering force.

Applejack lost her balance and fell, tumbling the rest of the way down feeling the hydra's impact through the ground itself. The pony hit the ground hard, pain lancing through her already-injured leg.

Above her, the hydra recoiled, drops of blood and bits of broken teeth falling on the orange pony, and another raspy hiss of pain ripped through the air. Four eyes flared turquoise as they glared down at Applejack, and a visible shudder shook the monster's form.

With a whinny, McIntosh galloped towards his sister. Applejack saw him coming and recognized that look in his eyes – he had an idea, another plan that would require both of them to pull off. Scrambling to her hooves, she gritted her teeth against the pain of her leg and stumbled toward him.

Without warning, a hydra head slammed down on McIntosh, jaws clamping shut, tearing up turf and soil. The head lifted, and the big pony was gone. Nothing remained but a small crater in the soil.

Applejack stared, uncomprehending. Her mind didn't seem to be functioning properly. McIntosh . . . what happened . . . that can't be right . . .

The hydra regarded her with an unmistakably smug expression on one of its faces. The one-eyed head hung back, as did the broken-toothed one – still drooling blood – while a third regarded her. The fourth, the one that had just snatched up McIntosh, worked its jaws.

Away to the west, viridian lightning exploded upward from the trees. Neither Applejack nor the hydra spared it a thought.

The hydra's jaw jerked, as if something had struck it from within. Its eyes widened with what seemed to be surprise, and the other three heads turned to watch it.

It jerked again, and bits of dirt and mud flew from between its lip, back at the side of its jawline. Its expression hardened, and the jaws worked again, grinding, crushing.

Abruptly, the head convulsed, the lower jaw jerking sideways. Teeth and blood sprayed, and Applejack's eyes widened. Could it be . . . ?

The head's mouth dropped open, spitting Big McIntosh out in a blast of blood, mud, and saliva. The big earth pony tumbled helplessly through the air, hitting the ground with a heavy thud! For an endless moment nothing moved: McIntosh lying in a heap, Applejack and the hydra staring at him in sheer astonishment.

Then, slowly, deliberately, he dragged himself to his hooves and raised his head.

His helmet was gone, and his armor was dented and scratched. His mane and tail were sodden with blood and hydra saliva. His face was a mask of blood, and a huge gash scored the left side of his face from mane to jaw.

And his gentle eyes were filled with fury.

Battered, bloody, filthy and beaten, McIntosh Apple roared his defiance at his enemy, and the hydra flinched away. Once again, turquoise flared in its eyes, but less brightly; the color flickered like a dying fire.

The hydra head that had just spat him out coughed, making gagging motions. Its jaws worked in evident pain, and a small object dropped out: McIntosh's helmet, crushed beyond recognition, a flattened ball of bronze-colored metal. The hydra's heads swept back up, eying the ponies with unmistakable frustration . . . and the turquoise glow died away entirely.

The strange tableau held for several seconds, the battered hydra and the two defiant earth ponies regarding one another. Applejack found herself holding her breath, torn between so many emotions that she did not know what to do or think. Something was happening with the hydra, something that had nothing to do with herself or her brother. Something hung in the balance.

The hydra turned. Two heads bleeding from the mouth, another half-blind, it began dragging its massive bulk away eastward, in the direction of Froggy Bottom Bog. It paid no further heed to the earth ponies, shouldering aside trees as it quit the field of battle.

Applejack stared after it in amazement, but the beast did not slow; its heads floating above all but the largest of the apple trees, growing small with distance. She turned to McIntosh, who was breathing heavily, the rage leaving his face, his muscles relaxing. “We . . . we did it!”

“Eeyup.”

Applejack crashed into her brother and they went down in a heap: blood-spattered, covered with mud and saliva, wounded, exhausted, and laughing hysterically.