A Roc and a Hard Place - Part 1
♠♣♥♦ King of
Diamonds
The Ambassador's Son - Book 2
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Chapter 24
A Roc and a Hard Place
Part 1
An MLP:FiM Fanfiction by Midnight Shadow
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When last we met our intrepid heroes, not only had they absconded with the pride of the Equestrian sky-navy fleet to the draconic capital city of Leviathania for an audience with the emperor, but they had learned from him that their enemy, Akhekhu of the Sapphire Reaches, was far from ignorant of their travails, and was at that very moment endeavouring to end their flight.
With the pregnant Hairpin Turn safe from harm in the Emperor's stables, the rest of the gang – Chip, Carmine, Bella, Bethany, Penny and Ruff, along with the native guide Ivan – are making their way as swiftly as possible to the Great Harmony – their stolen warship – and to safety.
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Chip's legs pumped like well-oiled pistons, propelling his armoured frame across the emerald veldt of Quetzalcoatl's training grounds. His wings were half-spread, their arcane engines whirring brightly from atop his shoulders, sparks flying from them like cinders fleeing a bonfire. The motion was effortless, his gallop devouring furlong after furlong.
Enormous as the emperor's palace grounds were, the transition from compound to city streets was swift and seamless. Seemingly within moments, the open training arenas had given way to administrative and recreational buildings, and the pony-shaped dragon and his reluctant passengers found themselves travelling at speed through the athletes' village. Passing through, there had been no whirling, nausea-inducing jump, nor any gut-wrenching twist as they had exited the grounds proper; there had been just the slow, stately advance of the diminutive boundary wall, a leap across the almost non-existent barrier, and then the mad dash into swiftly thickening crowds and narrowing streets.
Moments later, Ruff raised his head cautiously from its precarious position half-buried in the thick of Chip's mane. He sniffed, head held steady as Chip's body moved fluidly beneath him. "Trouble," he said, simply.
"You what, mate?" cried Ivan from somewhere behind, two segmented limbs holding onto Chip's tail for dear life whilst a third held onto his hat. The remaining three, like his antennae, fluttered in the considerable breeze.
Chip's ears flicked to and fro, and his nostrils flared. He could hear and smell the source of the trouble, and with growing agitation realised they were travelling towards it as much as away. He widened his wings a little, causing his hooves to slam into the ground with the extra downforce. His legs pumped faster as his body swept low along the dusty streets. He hunched down, lungs puffing like bellows until jets of flame were playing around his muzzle with every breath.
Ruff was surprised there were few screams and even fewer occurrences of upturned produce stalls; he guessed it was because, well, dragons. The big ones don't tend to look where they're going, they kind of expect the world to bend itself around their wishes. They're mostly right, and even the smaller ones tend to get their own way. As a result, most sellers tended to build towards the sides of the wide roads, and made sure that anything fragile was tucked securely away – and a good number of sellers' carts were, maybe unsurprisingly, on wheels.
Chip leaped into the air, heading straight for the buildings at the end of the street. Rolling sideways, he tilted his wings to bring his backside around, and his hooves struck the front face of a hotel of some kind. Not breaking stride, the four-hooved draconic powerhouse went from canter to gallop as he sped off along the sheer vertical wall down the side street. A tunnel provided opportunity to return to running on the ground, via the ceiling and opposite wall.
"Still with me?" huffed Chip, not turning his head. The flames should have singed his mane, but then he shouldn't have been breathing fire in any case, not if he were the pony he appeared to be.
"Ruff need new shorts," said Ruff, ears pinned back against his skull, "but Ruff still here."
"Ey, kid, didja really hafta? Nearly lost me hat!" complained Ivan.
"Eeyup," answered Chip as he careened off a handy spire, the impact sending a flock of wyverns flying skywards, filling with air their cries of raucous annoyance. "Turning."
"Say before! Say before!" howled Ruff, digging his claws in to Chip's armour so hard he was threatening to shred it.
"Sorry. Duck."
Ruff ducked just in time, and Ivan pulled as many extremities in as he could, as Chip re-angled his wings, took all four hooves off the ground and sailed under a low bridge built across some sort of aqueduct. Oily flame lit the sudden twilight as Chip weaved to and fro, and then suddenly, they were out into scorching daylight again.
"So, me ol' china," called Ivan above the whistling wind. "You were sayin' summat about trouble?"
"We're being followed," replied Chip noncommittally, nodding.
Ruff nodded, though the action was all but lost on both Ivan and Chip. "They have us surrounded. Don't know how many, but they close. Been coming for a while. Ruff caught their scent a ways back."
"You sure?" asked Ivan.
"Ruff sure," replied Ruff. "Same scent as Tacksworn, but... different."
"Tacks-a-where?" wondered Ivan, aloud. Then the bug fluttered his wings. "Don't matter none. Listen, turn left up ahead."
"But that's the wrong way," hissed Chip, turning his head slightly and fixing the insect with a beady glare. "We're heading for the docking spire, remember?"
Ivan ducked out the way of the flames then fluttered his wings again to bring his body back into position. "Listen, bub, who's the guide here? Ivancha D'Jaboozarf? Or some schmo from Ticklesbarn or what-have-ya?"
"Tacksworn," grumbled Chip, flaring a wing and turning sharply. "But point taken."
"Good. Now, you'se wanna get out of this? You listen to old Ivan. I ain't never lost a client yet and I ain't about to now. Make another left, then a right, and then..."
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Smothered in the late afternoon sunset, soaking up the ambience of the dusty citadel, a very tall and thin earth pony lay on his stomach on a lounger on the roof of a nondescript hotel, suffering the worn-thin opulence of an establishment that had seen better days, in bad grace. The brochure had promised four stars, whilst the reality was two stars with pretentions, and there weren't nearly enough complimentary chocolates to fill the gap. His normally brilliant white coat was currently a dull beige from the dust, and his usually expertly coiffed blonde mane was limp from the sweltering heat.
"Oh, Bentgrass, you really did mess up this time," he mumbled to himself. Scowling, he took a sip from a cool, tall glass of something multicoloured that he held resolutely hooked in one hoof. It came complete with sparkler and little paper umbrella. In the other hoof was a telescope; said wood and brass contraption was firmly planted to one steel-grey eye, the hock-band cinched tight. The other eye, bright yellow with a vertical slit, was half-lidded from the sun's glare.
"I should be in Trottingham, dealing with a shipment of Griffonian arms and a very nasty Zebrican ambassador, but no," he muttered, sneering, "instead I'm in Leviathania, perched on a rooftop, baking my hide. And all because I call one noblepony a stuck-up foppish bore with a penchant for filly's underwear." He paused to take another absent-minded sip from his cocktail, disapproval exuding from every pore as he studied the frosted glass. "Apparently having proof made it worse." He shuddered at the taste, regarding the overly fruity insult to cultured alcoholic beverages everywhere with contempt. "Ugh, I'd consider equicide for a Colthelia Port," he moaned, taking yet another sip. "Or at least something with enough breeding to avoid these little umbrellas." He picked out the offending pink monstrosity with furious lips and spat it over the edge of the building. To his surprise, the wind whipped it back up over the parapet again. At the same time, the building shook as if from multiple impacts. He counted four of them.
"Sweet Luna's teats!" he exclaimed, flinging the drink to one side as he leaped out of the lounger-pad. The liquid inside swung in an arc out across the low ridge that surrounded the hotel's sun-deck, and the glass itself impacted with said deck, shattering into a million glittering shards that would have seriously injured anypony foalish enough to be standing near them.
Bentgrass, however, was already on the move, racing in the direction of whatever in the name of Luna's bountiful blue buttocks had nearly knocked down his hotel. Collapsing his spy-glass with one hoof and neatly flipping it into his waistcoat jacket in a single, smooth, well-practiced motion, he came to a short, sharp stop at the parapets of the hotel. Peering over the edge of the building, he saw nothing but the tail-end of something fast disappearing into the darkness, sparks billowing behind it from an inconveniently-placed tunnel. "Celestia's scorched cr—" he paused, ducking his head and scanning the skies. He never knew when they might be listening, and had more than likely used up whatever freebies his position granted.
A lesser pony would have taken the stairs. A more well-prepared one might have rappelled down to street level. Bentgrass, hopped up on what was strictly speaking more than the regulation amount of intoxicating liquor, took a different route. He hoofed it to the edge of the building, took a single, slow look across the city, backed up a few steps, and then leaped into space.
Twang!
The sound of his metal-shod hooves as they came into contact with a washing line reverberated loud enough to rise above the frantic din in the streets below. Doing what could charitably be called the best, greatest, guitar-slide in history, his forward momentum carried him down the precarious shortcut far enough for him to blink exactly once, gather his body and leap for the adjacent roof. He tucked into a roll, impacted far more lightly than seemed equinely possible and then tumbled to his hooves. Racing to the edge of the adjacent building, he was just in time to catch a momentary glimpse of the whatever-it-was vanishing again under another low bridge.
Bentgrass ground his teeth. If he'd had a hat, he would've thrown it on the ground in disgust and jumped on it. Steeling himself at the edge for another run-and-jump, Bentgrass instead found himself stopping and stepping back.
A city has a certain voice all of its own. A million inhabitants, all working in tandem to breathe life into a megastructure built of wood, stone and slate. Bentgrass had learned to listen to the voice of the city; from the smallest hamlet to the largest metropolis, they all spoke to him. And right now, this one was grumbling with something approaching righteous indignation.
A sudden series of scuffles and loud complaints floated past him, along with the unmistakable thundering of paws. Shrieks and insults resounded from the stone-wrought walls of the buildings lining the market avenues below... There was indignation but not fear. This city held too many dragons for fear but never too many to banish threats of bodily retaliation for something else stomping willy-nilly through the neighbourhood.
Bentgrass ran to the other side of the building in time to see something – no, some things – rocket past, foam flecking from their maws as they steamed through the milling crowds. They were big, their eyes glowed blue, their fangs gleamed yellowish-white and their bodies exuded silent, deadly rage. And nothing even remotely resembling sentience.
"Diamond...!? No, no, those aren't diamond dogs. Not any more at least," Bentgrass murmured. He ducked down instinctively as a trio of black, chitinous creatures buzzed past, following the mutated monsters. There was a brief, colourful flash, and the black creatures were gone, replaced by what appeared to be wyverns.
After they had passed, the agent sighed, shaking his head. "Why oh why couldn't it have stayed at cheap drinks and disappointment?" Huffing angrily, he reached deep inside his jacket with a foreleg and flipped out a green gem. It was almost the size of his hoof and emblazoned with a plethora of runic symbols. Carefully, he set the gem on the ground and tapped it three times. The emerald flashed a brilliant green and shot a thin beam of light up to eye level. The beam widened to form a roughly head-sized, circular field of static. The gem hissed white noise for a few moments whilst the cantrips properly engaged.
Finally, the floating screen turned black, and a voice asked, “Authorization?”
“Charlie, Three, Four, Seven, India, November,” Bentgrass answered quietly.
There was a moment of silence before the voice spoke again. “Confirmed. What can we do for you, Agent Bentgrass?”
“I have a Priority One situation in progress, and I don't have time to argue about it. Get me the Director,” Bentgrass stated coolly.
“Priority One? That’s only in cases of imminent public danger!" the voice on the other end of the scrying spell scoffed.
Bentgrass blinked. “Is it?" Feigning surprise, the agent put a hoof to his cheek. "I know they put that in the manual, but I totally thought they were kidding about that. How about we forget the emergency, then; I'm interested in hearing about the weather back home and the latest hoofball scores. Could you get them for me instead?" There was an uncomfortable silence, finally broken by Bentgrass, sighing as he raised one hoof to his temples and massaged gently. "Get me somebody useful, and I'll sing like a canary. Or maybe you'd like to continue to delay this Priority One incident? I'm sure I can ask nicely for the troublemakers my end to stop and wait whilst the R.I.S spin on their Celestia-damned haunches!"
Bentgrass glared into the abyss of inky blackness and stomped his hoof back down against the roofing slabs. Through the link came the sudden sound of scuffling and hoofsteps as the pony he was conversing with got the message. Moments later, the black disk shimmered and shook before being replaced with the picture of a severe-looking older pinto stallion. His brown-and-white speckled hide was faded, yet still showed signs of gloss, and his hazel-peppered tail flicked about in equal measures of amusement and irritation.
"Director Top Notch, sir," said Bentgrass, standing just the teensiest bit straighter.
"Bentgrass?" The ghostly image of the stallion leaned closer, eyes narrowing. "I hope this isn't a courtesy call. You were informed that you were only to—"
Bentgrass nodded. "Your 'possible situation' has just turned hot, sir."
Top Notch's hard green eyes narrowed, and the levity fell out of his voice. "Sitrep?"
"I don't know where you're getting your info from, but it's not dragons. We're in Leviathania, but it's not dragons."
"No?" One eyebrow was raised as if challenging the statement.
"Worse. It's changelings—" Agent Bentgrass paused only briefly, continuing over Top Notch's sharp intake of breath "— and some sort of troll. They look like diamond dogs, but..." Bentgrass shook his head, blowing air out through his teeth. "Well, whatever they are, they also kind of feel like changelings."
"Changeling trolls? Are you sure?" Top Notch slammed a hoof down on his desk as he propelled himself forwards, moving close enough that the spell spat and fizzled as it compensated for the disruption. Bentgrass gulped as the director's visage was replaced with just his eyes, and they were anything but amused.
"I'm not sure of anything, sir, except that whatever they are, they're working together. They're chasing something, something fast. Orders, sir?"
Top Notch leaned back, his muzzle once more in view. He chewed his bottom lip for a few moments before continuing. "I'll see what I can do for backup, but until then, sit pretty. This is dragon territory; we've got to be discrete. We lose too many good agents when dragons are involved, if we're not careful."
"If our intel is correct, this doesn't even concern the dragons!" Bentgrass protested, stomping a hoof and flicking his tail angrily. "Most know better than to tangle with an agent, anyhow!"
"Benny, just remember: officially, we don't have any agents in Leviathania, and that's more than good enough to pronounce open season on your hide if they find out you're active." Top Notch leaned in as close as he could to the ethereal screen and affixed Bentgrass with a severe gaze. "If you want to avoid becoming a double agent, stay clear of whatever it is you're tangling with. Fall foul of the wrong dragon whilst you're out there, and you'll be flipped before you know it. They get inside your head, Benny, and there's no way to get them out. The Pax is quite clear on that." Top Notch shook a hoof at the recalcitrant agent.
"I promise I'll not get caught," replied Bentgrass, swiping a hoof back and forth across his chest in a rough 'X'.
"You'll stay out of trouble, you mean?" Top Notch glared.
"Isn't that what I said?" Bentgrass grinned and flicked off the scrying crystal before his superior could answer. The tall, thin stallion scooped up the gem and secreted it away then turned in the direction of most interest. His coat was dusty, his mane was dull, but his eyes were bright and his expression unbowed. "Time to get to work."
In a single smooth move, he dived over the edge, bounced off an awning and took off into the streets.
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The thestrals Cerasus and Myristica – otherwise known as Cherry and Nutmeg – wheeled through the sky on widespread bat-like wings. Their armour didn't glisten in the sunlight; it dripped. Their yellow, slitted eyes were focused on the city streets far below, augmented vision picking out even the smallest of details as they floated overhead. Like most of their kind, at least whilst on duty, they shared a common colour scheme; each was festooned in purples, blacks and dark blues, but Cherry had a maroon streak in his mane, whilst Nutmeg's showed a streak of brown.
"The chase is ahoof, dear Nutmeg!" sung Cherry, pirouetting in place excitedly, his wings fluttering madly as he held himself aloft.
"But who is chasing whom? It seems we are not without a new player in our merriment, oh Nutmeg-mine." Nutmeg shivered in the cooler air, his fur standing on end. Huddling in upon himself, he buried into a nearby cloud for warmth. "Do you feel it? Another?" The thestral peered suspiciously down at the city spread beneath them.
Cherry's eyes narrowed, and he circled the cloud carefully as he too scanned the city streets. "I do, but who...? Oh!" The astonished creature stopped stock still and pointed with a wing, oblivious to such minutiae as gravity. "I see him! There! One touched by the will of Luna!" Cherry's eyes lit up as he watched a tiny, off-white earth-pony figure far below for a few moments. It leaped about in a daring display of dangerous acrobatics, dancing from rooftop to rooftop. "What should we do?"
Nutmeg sniffed as he studied the pony. "I remember him, he was one of us. He has given up his wings, so is to be pitied, but he has taken The Oath. Faith I would include him in our fun with yonder lordling." Nutmeg waved a wing at another distant speeding target.
Cherry swooped up and hung upside down in front of Nutmeg, almost muzzle to muzzle, grinning evilly. "In truth, I would include him too, should he want it or not."
"Go greet our lost kin, then, dear Cherry," called Nutmeg, "and I shall make my swift way to the griffons we were sent to accompany. Accomplished they may be upon the wing, but should they fall prey to what follows them, they will flounder and fall. Our princess would not have that, and neither would I."
"Softy," snorted Cherry, as he wheeled and dropped like a stone.
Nutmeg just stuck out a tongue at the dwindling speck as soon as the other was out of view, then jumped to his hooves and likewise spun and dived.
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Despite telling himself it wasn't true, Chip was starting to tire. His already superheated breath now flamed with every exhalation, and his coat steamed. "Where are we going?" he growled, voice husky as his nostrils flared. Their assailants were gaining, and were mere minutes behind them, if that.
"Trust me, Bub, I've got ya. Unless you think I'm in cahoots with whatever-it-is Titchy there is sniffing. No offence," the bug added quickly, waving a placating set of appendages as Ruff bared his teeth.
"I don't," Chip huffed with a single derisory snort of flame, rolling his eyes. "I'd smell it on you."
"Well then. Where we're headed is just up ahead. Slow down as we go up the alley."
"Slow down!?" yelled Chip, incredulous.
"Slow down," repeated Ivan levelly. "If you don't, I'll not be able to let my guys know what's up, capiche? So unless you'se wants that scrap in the square I'm trying to avoid, slow down." Ivan locked his gaze with Chip's baleful glare and didn't flinch. Finally Chip nodded, once. Ivan waited until Chip turned his head to look back once more, then pointed down a dingy alley. Taking Ivan's lead, Chip careened off a building on the opposite side to hurtle into its shady interior. Moments later, it opened into a wide and colourful exchange. The Bevelmiter engines on his shoulders whined and spat lightning as he flared his wings to brake. Shedding speed, Chip slowed to a canter, his hooves striking the cobbled roadway with increasing regularity and haste. Ivan clicked his mandibles together loudly then proceeded to let loose a barrage of high-speed clacks and buzzes, a cacophony which was swiftly answered in kind as plans were drawn up with a goodly group of creatures similar in build and stature to Ivan. As Chip dropped to a trot, the bug yelled to his clients in Equestrian, "Don't stop! I said slower, not stop! Hoof it, you numbnuts!"
"Where to? I'm running out of destination, Ivan!" called back Chip, casting his gaze around at the eclectic selection of mats, meats, hookahs and other collections of tchotchke..
"Dive into that building over there before they roast our chestnuts!" exclaimed Ivan, pointing to an opened warehouse door. "It's a bolt-hole. Sometimes, for a bug in my position, you find yourself… possessing merchandise which the bigwigs around here aren't too fond of, you know what I mean? And sometimes you need a place to hide it. And yourself." As he spoke, Ivan bent and plucked out a few strands of Chip's tail, then flung them to a compatriot. The two chittered, and then the other bug zoomed off. "Distraction," Ivan explained, at Chip's questioning eye-raise. "Now get in there! Hide us!"
Chip dutifully sped up and leaped, sheathing his magitech wings at the last moment as they sailed through the large, darkened rectangle. The huge double doors were slammed shut behind them, and Chip skidded to a halt in a pile of legs, wings and broken merchandise. As he slid around on his hooves, he flung the unfortunate Ivan and Ruff off his tail and back into a pile of what used to be commemorative amphoras before joining them in a catastrophic clash of perishable pottery.
"Ow! Have I ever said how much I dislike crash landings?" grumbled Chip, standing back up and straightening his armour, pottery shards raining around him.
"Quiet!" growled Ruff, under his breath as he picked himself up. "Quiet and listen!"
Chip and Ruff both did their best to stifle their breathing, putting hooves and paws over their muzzles to dampen the noise. In the quiet darkness, the three withdrew deeper behind the assorted dross and unmarked boxes that filled the otherwise undecorated room from floor to ceiling. Outside, there came the unmistakable sound of merchandise being moved around at breakneck speed, followed by the swift restoration of the din that came from an entire street full of buyers and sellers arguing with each other and one another over who had the best prices and wares.
Moments later, the hullabaloo changed as growling, intense voices charged into the exchange outside. The yelling of commerce changed to the angered, righteous indignation of those whose livelihood has just been trampled by unwanted interlopers. Swiftly after came the sounds of merchandise being thrown, and yelping, not all of it by whatever had been following the trio. The angry voices finally moved away, and the hubbub of normal commerce returned. A few nervous minutes after that and the wares blocking the doors were pulled aside.
"What'd I tell you'se guys, huh?" asked Ivan as he was suddenly bathed in sunlight, wearing a smirk so wide it threatened to envelop his entire body. "Me and my boys, we take care of our clients. Is bad for business if anyone else rips you off, eh?"
"Thanks… I think." Chip shared a grin with Ruff then trotted carefully out into the open.
"Now… we are hunters and they are prey," the diminutive diamond dog said with a grin, thumping one fist-paw into the other. He swung his legs to and fro over the edge of a box of miniature figures he was clambering on, like a pup, but his expression was far more serious.
"The emperor was right then; those things are after us. We've gotta get clear before they bring in more reinforcements."
"So, is there a new plan, boss?" asked Ivan.
Chip shook his head in the negative. "Nothing's changed. Step one, we get back to the Great Harmony and meet up with the girls. Step two, we get the us all and the airship out of here before they can board it." Chip glanced skywards, but little could be seen from the enclosed cul-de-sac. "I hope the girls are okay."
Ruff barked out with laughter. "They okay. They prolly doing better than us!"
"I hope you're right."
Dusting himself off, Ivan stretched out his wings and then straightened his hat. "Never let it be said Ivancha D'Jaboozarf doesn't look out for his clients. I've got the whole D'Jaboozarf clan on the lookout for trouble; they'll be running interference where necessary." He bowed perfunctorily as another, brightly coloured, beetle ran up to him, its antennae quivering as it chittered nervously. Ivan answered briefly in kind, shaking his head, then turned back to Chip and Ruff. "They're telling me there're hotspots all over, some sort of weird trolls being portalled in, followed by changelings. Changelings are bad news. Changelings with trolls? That's worse. No offence." Ivan spat on the ground, antennae quivering, then shrugged apologetically at Ruff.
"No skin off my paws. They not diamond dogs, not no more," replied Ruff, growling.
Ivan nodded then looked back over at Chip. "So, what do we do now, boss?"
"Ivan," replied Chip, his eyes narrowing as he calculated the odds, "we need you with us until we're at the ship if that's possible. We need to know where our 'friends' are and how many we're talking about. We'll avoid most of them, but I think it's time we got a good look at what we're dealing with." Chip shook himself off as he trotted out back into the exchange, then half-spread his wings and circled the square; ducking and weaving through the cloud of excited, colourful insects flittering around, and stepping over crates and bags piled high with exotic treasures and foods, he hunted for signs of their quarry.
The chatter in the exchange was once again reaching deafening levels, though now most of it seemed to be due to bet taking on their chances of survival. The rest was apparently advice that would have to go mostly unheeded and wildly contradictory attempts at directions. None of them, save Ivan, spoke Buggish, but it was easy to get the gist of the chatter, based on the coins changing hands and the excited gesturing and chits being waved around by the numerous insectoid inhabitants . "And I think it's also time we let Akhekhu know we're not taking this lying down."
Chip paused as he was accosted by an especially intent beetle offering something dead and barbequed on a stick to him. A glance at Ivan showed their guide miming eating it, waving an appendage to accept the gift. Chip turned back and took it in his muzzle, bowing gratefully. He'd been running hard and a pickmeup would be well appreciated.
As he finished it, Ruff leaped up onto Chip's back and punched his friend in the withers, the pup's claws bouncing off Chip's armour with a resounding clang.
"Ruff ready to show."
Chip burped, incinerating the stick with a blast of dragonfire. "Me too, bud. You sorted, Ivan?" Chip wiped his muzzle with an armoured hoof, then looked over at their beetle friend.
"When you are, matey," replied Ivan, stepping away from the bugs he had been in discussion with and grabbing a firm hold of both his hat and Chip's tail with several appendages.
Chip took one last look around the square and then fully spread his wings. The twin Bevelmiter engines started to whir, and Chip leaped into the air, their exit followed by a multitude of waves and shouts from the insect crowd behind them.
Pronking from door frame to window ledge to balcony, the re-energized dragon gained altitude moment by moment. Hurling himself over the edge of the nearest building, he was up and galloping across the whitewashed stone roofs in the blink of an eye.
Nostrils spread wide and ears splayed, he zeroed in on his quarry. They weren't difficult to find and, even more advantageously, the initial group of three outliers had split up in search of Chip and the gang.
"Ruff want have talk with troll," said the pup ominously as he spied the nearest of the three. "Will catch up."
"Wait, Ruff don—" Chip began, but the troll had already leaped off his back and hurtled over the edge of one building, down into an alleyway, where he disappeared from view.
"I got him, boss. You take care on your lonesome, 'kay?" shouted Ivan as he let go of Chip's tail. Moments later the insect, too, was winging his way after the pup.
"Horseapples!" swore Chip under his breath. "There's no time to stop. I'll just swing back and pick them up… afterwards."
Chip grinned ferally to himself and made a right turn down another street. With one long bound, he slammed into the ground, roaring a challenge to the large, glowing-eyed brute ahead of him. As Chip galloped up the street, he saw the troll was busy casting around the square that lay ahead, searching for his scent. As Chip's hoof-beats grew nearer, the creature stopped and turned, a guttural snarl rending its way past the beast's lips.
"Yeah, that's right," growled Chip, setting his hooves squarely down one after another as he came to a halt some distance from the troll. "You know who I am, and I know who you are. And who you work for. Tell your cowardly mongrel of a mistress we're not going to quit. We're going to find the treasure, and then we're coming for her. Tell her to run. Tell her to hide, because Chiphoof Irontail Leatherback of the Diamond Expanse is angry." Chip lashed his tail, the bolas tied there clanging loudly.
The beast's only reply was an infuriated roar; it beat its chest and rent at the ground with its huge paws.
"And you can tell your mistress another thing," hissed Chip quietly. He leaned forwards, fixing the beast with an unwavering gaze until he was sure he had its undivided attention. The last time he'd faced down a diamond dog in single combat, he'd been afraid, inexperienced and vulnerable. This time was different.
"You can tell your mistress: never bring claws to a fire fight."
Chip took a single deep breath, spread his wings wide, and bellowed flame across the gap. The white-hot plasma enveloped the slathering creature before it could react, and before it could finish its last, lone howl of pain and humiliation, it had turned to ash.
Chip stepped carefully over to where the troll had so recently stood. The rock beneath had been scoured clean by his fiery breath and melted to a smooth, glossy finish. It glowed a faint yet angry shade of red and pinged and ticked as it cooled. Chip hung his head in silent vigil. He hadn't exactly had any choice – he'd known what would happen the moment he set eyes on the creature, but he was still torn.
"When I get hold of Akhekhu..." Chip growled to himself, then he stopped and snorted. He shook his head as he thought through the emotions flowing in his mind. Such anger, such determination… she had cost him his parents and had ripped his world out from under him, and yet he was the one on the offensive. He wasn't sure whether he'd have been quite so bloodthirsty if he'd remained the pony he still outwardly seemed to be, but then again, he wasn't sure whether it was his loss or his change that fueled his righteous anger most.
Chip took a deep, shuddering breath then turned to leave. Ruff would need his help, and they still needed to get to th—
Chip's world suddenly spun around and around, and pain flared up in his shoulder and barrel. He whinnied in surprise and shock as something heavy pinned down. As the creature went from chewing at his metal-plated withers to chomping on his neck, Chip realised it was another changeling-troll. Daggers of fire erupted along his spine as the beast's teeth penetrated his armour. Roaring in dismay and aggravation, he repeatedly flicked the bolas on his tail at the troll and kicked his hooves in an attempt to free himself, bucking as hard as he could. The blows struck home, but against the thick pelt and thicker layer of muscle surrounding the creature, they had little effect. When that failed, he took a deep breath, twisted his head and let forth a huge gout of flame at his assailant. The creature leaped away, yelping, then dodged and snarled, lunging again. Chip took another deep breath in preparation for another blast, but before he could loose off so much as a spark, the beast's fangs had sunk into his throat and it had pulled his head up and to the side. Molten spittle poured from the wounds in a gurgling rush of lava as the roar of flame turned to a roar of pain and agony. The fangs tightened their grip. Chip raised his forehooves to fend off the attacker, kicking ineffectually at the troll as he braced himself for the inevitable tearing out of his throat, and then—
—There was a loud clap of thunder and the fangs that had sunk into his neck jerked once, then loosened, as a torrent of warm, sticky ichor washed over his chest. Chip coughed and spluttered, leaking molten lava from the puncture wounds in his neck as he wheezed out the aborted flamespurt and reflexively kicked his forelegs at the now-still attacker. A whimpering, whinnying growl issued from Chip's muzzle with every breath, but as death failed to claim him and the fangs loosened more, with the jaws they were attached to slumping to the ground, Chip realized he was still alive. The warm rush of blood was mostly from his erstwhile enemy.
He burbled noisily as he struggled to rise. Where there was one, there would be another, when it recovered, it would pounce, when it pounced—
"Easy there, boss, we gotcha. Careful, you're hurt." Ivan's surprisingly calm patter broke through Chip's panicked fervor, and the youngster's eyes focused on four things – two of them were his friends Ivan and Ruff, the latter scooping up great pawfuls of stone and rubbing them together. Another was the lolling, empty-eyed head of the troll that had almost gutted him. And the final thing was the enormous slab of stone formed from two boulders which had been slammed together, trapping the rest of the troll in a space which was entirely too small to support such luxuries as 'breathing'.
He was safe – for a given value of safe. Gratefully, he collapsed to the hard-baked, sandy ground and focused on forcing air into and out of his lungs until the stars went away.
"Ruff… not sure what Ruff doing, but… lie down!" Ruff, with a surprisingly strong grip, pushed the pawfulls of granite against Chip's neck, swearing to himself in the guttural growling native language of the diamond dogs. Chip winced and cried out as he felt the lumps mold and flex like putty, and new daggers of pain lanced into his body. There was an odd stench in the air, almost like burning hair, and then suddenly Chip could breathe again.
He groaned and shook his friends off to stand. He almost fell, but refused to drop. "What…" Chip's voice was gravelly and rough. "What did you do?"
Ruff clapped his paws together then nodded at the slab of rock that stood where a troll used to be, still dripping blood from a crack up the middle. "Ruff is Stone Talker."
"And…" Chip coughed, knees buckling. "This?" He pointed a hoof at his neck.
"If I didn't know better, boss, I'd say he mortared the holes in your neck. Hell of a thing. I've seen dragons with old battle wounds do something similar; they sometimes use molten metal to stitch 'emselves back together. This… was a good idea. So don't knock it."
Chip spat and tasted fresh blood. His breathing rattled, but he was no longer going to bleed out. That had to be a plus even if his neck felt like a ton of bricks had fallen on it. He nodded, slowly, and chanced a grin. "Think you can do my back, too? And how're my wings looking?"
Ruff grinned back. For the moment, they had calm. The pup scooped up another pawful of rock, and once again tried to apply it to Chip's hide. This time it was a bit more difficult, but with some persuading, the pup managed to get it to meld and adhere. It would suffice as a field-dressing. First request dealt with, Ruff moved on to the second as Chip stretched first one wing and then the other.
"Wings look okay. A bit shredded, but will hold. They work?"
Chip nodded. "Seem to. I'll have to get 'em looked at as soon as we get outta this mess, but they'll hold. For now." Chip shook himself then almost collapsed against a water-butt, stars wheeling through his vision. Greedily, he dunked his head into the large water barrel and slaked his thirst. The water was tepid but clean. After drinking his fill, he spat mouthfuls onto his hooves, sluicing the worst of the blood off. Then he turned back to the pair waiting over where his quest had almost ended and appraised the damage: One troll dead by dragonfire, another troll dead by diamond dog lithomancy, and the latter wasn't just dead, it was puréed. Chip swallowed, wincing at the pain.
Ruff grinned, showing his teeth. "Ready to go? Ruff already taken care of the other one of these three."
There had been a third, thought Chip, eyes widening, and he didn't even break a sweat. "Good job, Ruff. Remind me never to piss you off," he said, blinking in surprise. Wincing as pain flared from his gnawed-on joints, Chip nodded and spat another wad of blood. "Up and at 'em," he husked. Akhekhu would learn who she was messing with, and it would be a lesson she wouldn't forget – if he could hold himself together. Looking up into the sky, the docking spire seemed mockingly close, their airship seemingly close enough to touch.
Gritting his teeth, Chip started to run.
♠♣♥♦
Carmine and Beth flapped their wings in concert with each other, lagging just behind Penny as they sailed through the bright blue sky. They made to look laboured but, thanks to Bella's weight-manipulation spell, were barely feeling even the slightest twinge of fatigue.
"How's it looking?" mumbled Penny around gritted teeth, gaze not faltering from her goal.
"All's quiet up ahead and this side, far as I can see," replied Carmine. "With luck it'll be a straight run to the Great Harmony, and then we're home free."
"Don't jinx it, Car. There's nothing to report on my side either, but I've a bad feeling in my gizzard – something's not right," grumbled Beth. "Last time was when that scorpion-bear went for the gazelle our flight was after. Damned near sent one of our scouts to Tartarus."
"Nothing's ever easy," huffed Carmine. "Take a peek behind us, Bella. Tell Beth she's all fluffed up about nothing, 'kay?"
There came a creaking of timbers as the firmly ensconced unicorn peered warily over the edge. A distressingly short while later, she spoke up. "Don't look now, but there's a whole lot of that nothing coming up behind us!" Bella's voice broke with a squeak, and she scrambled to double-check how securely tied down she was. "They're a ways below us, but heading this way. No idea what they are, but they look kinda angry."
"Bent beaks and broken talons," hissed Carmine, craning her neck to get a peek. She snapped her beak and flexed her foreclaws. "What do you suggest? Recon and retreat?" The griffon strengthened her wing-beats; playing dumb offered no further advantage. It was time to go on the offensive.
Beth nodded and widened her wing-beats too, glaring back over her shoulders into the distant, dark cloud. "Post haste."
Without another word, the two griffons peeled away left and right. They circled around each other and Penny then took up the other's place on the other side of the cart.
Bethany met Carmine's gaze and growled. "We're in trouble alright," she said.
"What is it?" asked Penny, jinking in the air as she sought to get a look behind.
"Must you! I'd like to keep my insides in!" moaned Bella, from the back of the cart.
Bethany ignored her. "There's a swarm of… well I'm not sure what, but they're heading our way," the griffoness continued flatly. "The cowards were hiding in our tail-feathers.
"I'd have guessed changelings," mused Carmine, "but these look different somehow."
"Think we can stay ahead of them?" the pegasus inquired.
"Nuh-uh," replied Carmine. "We're fast, but they're faster. They're gaining, whatever they are."
"Well then," huffed Penny, "I think it's time to give them a run for their money." The coppery pegasus whinnied as spread her wings wider and poured on the speed. "If it were just me," she added, gritting her teeth, "they'd never catch me."
"Sorry!" whimpered Bella.
"There's a 'but' in there," added Penny, grinning. "But they're gonna have to work for it because we've got something they don't have."
"What's that?" asked Bella, above the rising wind.
"They don't have a unicorn in the back who can cast fire spells."
Bella's shocked expression swiftly changed to one of chagrin and then mischievous malice. She shuffled around in the cart for a few seconds then hooked both forelegs over the rear fender. "You sure those whatever-they-ares are hostile?" she asked, breathing deeply as her body shook.
"B," snorted Carmine, "I'm a griffon. I've spent my life hunting small furry things that squeak when you squeeze 'em. I think I know when I spot another hunter."
"That's all I wanted to hear."
Moments later, the cart rocked, and a searing-hot ball of flames erupted from the unicorn's horn. The air sizzled as it hurtled downwards. Seconds later, there was an explosion which buffeted the cart again and caused the griffons to both squawk in surprise.
"That was one of your fire spells!?" exclaimed Penny, blinking in surprise.
"Sorry! It was supposed to be just a basic pyroblast. They're great for lighting campfires, but I guess I got a bit carried away."
Carmine and Beth shared a glance, and both broke out in raucous laughter.
"B, you get as carried away as you can!" Carmine encouraged.
"Well I don't want to fall out!" Bella protested.
"As if!" grumbled Penny, pouting. "I've gotten good with flying things around. You won't fall out, I promise."
"I-I believe you," stammered Bella. She screwed up her eyes again and concentrated. For a moment, her horn glowed brilliant purple, then another incandescent ball of flame grew from the tip. Seconds later it exploded into motion as if loosed from a cannon and sped downwards towards a dark, greyish-black mass of wings and claws. On impact, there was a detonation, and a clump of dark, greyish-black somethings fell groundwards.
"Good one!" cried Carmine.
"Not good enough," replied Bethany, "they're still coming."
"Keep at it, B! Take 'em out. Thin their ranks. When they get closer, then it's our turn. Penny," Carmine swooped in front of the copper-coloured pegasus and backwinged, propelling herself through the air in reverse. "Whatever you do, don't stop. Get to the Great Harmony. We may need the Wing Motion Gun."
Bella hissed through her teeth in between loosing off another pyroclastic volley. "Penny can't fire that thing with you two still in the air!"
"She can and will, if she has to," growled Carmine. "We've got one major advantage to that lot when it comes to dealing with the fallout from that cannon-thing: we know it's coming. Besides, with luck, it won't be an issue."
"Well don't look now, but we may be about to test that theory. Incoming!" Beth shouted. She screeched and spread her wings wide, catching the air. Her motion arrested, she dropped behind the pegasus-powered cart as it sped ahead. Once clear, Beth spun in the air, half folded her wings and dive-bombed the growing mass of approaching creatures. Screaming an incoherent battle cry, the enraged griffon then spread both her wings and talons and barrelled through the opposing force at full speed, her blade-enhanced appendages tearing through the brittle creatures like a hot knife through butter. Snapping her beak and tearing at what caught in it, she dashed still more out of the skies before clearing through them and looping up around behind them.
"For Tacksworn!" yelled Carmine as she too peeled off from the cart to join the battle. Hurtling through the hazy mass of indistinct forms, the griffoness got the distinct feeling that the creatures she was fighting weren't entirely all there. They were all wings and claws, but felt brittle like paper and hurt her eyes to look at. Individually they were insubstantial, but en masse they fouled her wings and caught in her beak. Slashing with knife-edged wings and bladed talons, she rent the skittering, flapping nuisances limb from limb, careening through the cloud in pass after pass, but slowly her incredible speed faltered. She flew through the mob again and again, but the black cloud of chittering monstrosities still advanced. When they caught at her head and eyes, she screamed in anger, but when they caught at her wings and dragged the griffon downwards, she wailed in despair.
Time seemed to slow as rabid, fanged entities snapped and snarled around her peripheral vision, blocking her beak. Her heart, already beating fast, increased its jack-hammering beat as she fought to remain conscious with the creatures blocking her airways.
The world was turning grey, the edges of her vision were turning black, the air was burning in her lungs…
...And suddenly bright, bilious flame roared around her and devoured the black plague. Gasping in the sulfurous fumes and acrid smoke, Carmine nevertheless got her breath back, just in time to twirl in anticipation of the oncoming attack from something else swooping past in the cloud.
Twin pools of yellow pierced the gloom, and Carmine instinctively swiped with her wings. The blades passed through nothing more substantial than vapour, and mocking laughter rattled through her skull.
"What do you want! Who are you! I'll kill you before I'll fall!" spat Carmine, lunging again with her talons at the obscured stranger.
"'Tis not I you should seek to vanquish, little hen. Take heed of my words, and duck."
The creature's voice was familiar, and deep in the recesses of her brain, her shocked mind put two and two together. She had heard the voice before, on the train from Stalliongrad.
"Wha'?" The griffoness managed, dipping in the air as her wing-beats faltered for a moment..
"I said duck," said the voice again, and the owner breathed in deeply. Carmine wasn't sure why – this was no dragon; surely he wasn't going to… and then her addled brain reminded her, sheepishly, about the huge torrent of flame that had literally just burned away her attackers. She squawked and drew her wings in close, dropping like a stone. Inches above her, so close she swore her crest was smouldering, another huge gout of burnosity incinerated a new wave of the whatever-they-weres that had been attacking.
And then, like the smoke that had wreathed it, the owner of the voice was gone.
Carmine hung in the air, breathing heavily to clear the fumes out of her lungs, with a perplexed expression wandering across her beak.
"What in the nine realms just happened?" yelled Bethany as she circled the other griffon.
"I… have no idea."
"And when did you learn to cast fire spells!?"
"I didn't! There was some… thing else there!"
"Are you sure? Are you sure it wasn't just a lucky shot from Bella, who totally needs our help by the way?" Bethany gestured with a wing, where a number of new somethings were swooping and diving at the pegasus and the cart she pulled, amidst a hale of incandescent magefire.
Carmine shook her head. The eyes, the voice… "I don't know, but one thing I do know is: you should never look a gift-pony in the mouth. Come on."
With dual, ear-splitting battle cries, the griffons once more entered the fray.
♠♣♥♦
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Ow, midnight, you wound me so
3772262
oh yeah. you helped too.
3772263 I do try to, at least
As for the chapter itself, was very well done, live a good ol' action-packed romp every now and again
. And I love your changeling-dogs, it actually inspired some of my personal headcanon about changelings 
Really glad to see this update again and yes, it was well worth the wait!
It seems Chip's ego is quickly outpacing his ability. Damn fool almost got his head bitten off. I got a distinct "Her Majesty's Secret Service" vibe from Agent Bentgrass, so I'm looking forward to seeing if his organization comes more into play later on.
Long time no see. How are you?
My little Benty is all growed up, exploring new and fantastic fics.
Always fun to see a new chapter come out!
3772263 Buh. I wasn't! You never told me something new was ready
Fuck yeah updatE been waiting but really nice new features keep them coming
3774736
Oh, well, remind me to drop you a link to ch.25! it's mostly ready already
3774838 I just did! I don't have internet psychic powers to see when it'll be completely ready, meaning you'll need that reminder, though!
Whoo. Big battle. Wonder who the mystery voice at the end was, though... the thestrals?
Ah, you griffons and your quaint expressions!
Random note: despite the bleedingly obvious nod to Mercyful Fate, every time I see this fic I hear this song in my head:
Wait a second, why the heck in this is the conversion Bureau Group? Anyhow, I just finished reading The Ambassador's Son and I'll enjoy reading its squeal :).
3776354
It should not be.
3776354
I'm going to hazard a guess that the reason is the 800 Year Promise by Chatoyance, which included Chip and friends in the world of TCB.
Oooo, I like this ex-Thestral agent.
Sometimes, you just have to smuggle yourself. /star wars
Yikes, didn't expect Chip to very nearly bite it.
Huh, so Bent is from UALS. Been meaning to read that one for a very long time. Guess I'll have to make sure that I get to it sooner rather than later.
Could you not have told me this before I reread all of The Ambassador's Son and King of Diamonds?
~bass
Pyroblasts? Well, the bitey things do seem to be illusions...
Oh, right, different magic system.
In any case, great action chapter. Eagerly looking forward to the second half.
3800034
What could possibly go wrong?
Had a hard time reading this chapter. It's probably me. Was Cherry and Nutmeg a reference to Ginger and Nutmeg? I will choose to believe it was, because I need to. Don't tell me if it wasn't. I'm going to wait until I am in a better space for the next chapter. Maybe I'll reread this one then.
#include <india.h>
#include <reality.h>
segmentation fault
Halfway through the chapter: What. We've got Chip and friends chased by an Equestrian(?) agent, Akmehk's (something like that) forces, and Luna's thestrals, and they don't even know who's chasing whom any more.
I think.
...
I love this.
Finished: Akkekhu!
Anyway, this is awesome.
-Spirit