• Published 6th Oct 2012
  • 7,917 Views, 335 Comments

A Song of Storms: Of Skies Long Forgotten - The 24th Pegasus



The pegasi that founded Equestria have a dark past, a past steeped in war and a fight for the survival of their very race, and one that Commander Hurricane played a key role in.

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Chapter 3: Draft

Whenever the might of Cirra is contested,
Whenever those who would seek to cause harm to my friends, family, and emperor strike us,
Whenever the thick clouds of war cover my land,
I will stand in the face of such terror
And together, a million strong, we will fight the enemy hoof and feather
Ceasing only when it has been driven back into the abyss,
Or my blood stains the skies of my homeland red.

--- The Cirran Oath

Chapter 3: Draft

The grindstone hissed as it reshaped the iron pressed against its surface. A stream of glowing, amber sparks cascaded downwards from the dull metal as the stone trimmed its edges into neat razors. The sparks tumbled along the air currents for a mere second before they eventually fell into the dirt and died out. Thick and dusty sunlight pierced through the window in the barn.

The axe was raised from the stone and held against the sunlight, sharply slicing through the dust and sending it scurrying away from the blade. Hurricane squinted as he examined the blade, a circle of light hovering over his eye as it sifted through the hole in the axe head. Satisfied that the tool was sharp enough, the pegasus lowered it and strapped the axe across his back. He lifted himself from the grindstone and sauntered out into the sun, raising a wing against the sudden clarity in its glare as he escaped the dusty structure.

It had been two weeks since Day of Empire was cut untimely short by the attempted assassination of the emperor. In an instant the joyous festivities were forgotten about and the mood of the nation plunged into one of apprehension and worry. Rumors of violence along the Gryphon border trickled across the nation, although the official messenger pegasi from Stratopolis had said nothing of the news. Regardless, the threat of war was the first thing on everypony’s mind but the last thing anypony wanted to hear.

As Hurricane passed by the house he saw Twister applying a new coat of paint to its side. As was usually the case whenever Twister was in charge of repainting the house, hardly half of the building was painted yet nearly all of the filly was colored white. She was trying hard not to gag on the soaked brush handle as she moved it in slow lines up and down the side of the house. Hurricane tried to suppress his laughter as he trotted by, but Twister’s ears perked up and she turned towards him, obviously annoyed.

“What are you lookin’ at, featherhead? Can’t you see I’m trying to work?”

Hurricane’s lip twitched as he fought to keep a straight face. “Honestly, Sis, I can’t tell if you’re painting the house or if the house is painting you. Are you sure you know how to use a brush?”

Twister’s face contorted and she shook her body vigorously, flinging loose drops of paint everywhere. The white paint struck Hurricane’s black coat despite his best efforts at avoiding it, and he cursed as he tried to rub the stain out. His sister spat out the brush, and the corners of her mouth twisted upwards in a smile.

“You deserved that one. Next time I’ll gladly let you paint the house while I split firewood.” Twister bent down and picked up the brush as gingerly as she could, trying to avoid the most paint-laden area. She shuddered as she tasted the foul material and went back to painting.

Hurricane lingered another few seconds before asking, “Hey I’m going into town today, you need me to get you anything?”

Twister looked over her shoulder before going back to painting. “Yeah, some mouthwash would be reeeeal nice about now. Maybe some toothpaste too.”

Hurricane chuckled and shook his head before flying off. At least Twist wasn’t in a somber mood like the rest of town, even though she was only sixteen and hardly cared about national affairs.

After a few minutes of leisurely flying, Hurricane descended into the town. After the vibrant atmosphere of Stratopolis, Zephyrus was slow and collected by comparison. The urban cityscape was hectic and unpredictable, but out in the country life progressed at a relaxed and reasonable pace.

As his hooves thudded onto the packed dirt road, Hurricane noticed that there were far fewer ponies in the market section of town than there should be for this time of day. He saw a few foals scurrying around a corner towards the center of town, and he followed, curious. Gathered around a raised platform, the majority of the population of Zephyrus looked up to a group of equines that stood surveying the crowd. Hurricane recognized the town’s imperial messenger, Arched Wing, and standing behind him was a squad of legionaries. Hurricane cocked his head to the side. Arched Wing never had anypony else with him when he read the news from the rest of Cirra. He paced closer as the messenger began to speak.

“Citizens of Zephyrus! I come to you with an urgent proclamation from the Emperor and the senate!” The crowd murmured softly to itself as Arched Wing broke the seal on a letter he removed from his saddlebags. Spreading it out on the pedestal, he loudly cleared his throat and began reading.

“A proclamation by His Magnificence, Emperor Augustus Haysar, Nineteenth of First Seed, year Four Hundred After Empire. In pertinence towards the attempted assassination of our Emperor during the fourth centennial celebration of the famed holiday Day of Empire, the senate began investigations into the nature of the crime. Over the past two weeks, we have been gathering information on the situation, and now we are ready for action.

“This is what we have learned: that per order of the illegitimately organized Kingdom of Gryphus, assassins were deployed towards Stratopolis to eliminate the Emperor in preparation for an offensive against the mighty Cirran Empire; that, despite the failed assassination attempt, our griffon subjects have begun limited combat operations along our eastern territories; that immediately prior to the assassination attempt, Archduke Ottgam Magnus of Angenholt, an outspoken anti-Cirran, was appointed emperor of the Kingdom of Gryphus; and that our governors of the lands of Gryphus, installed after the High Noon War ended twenty years ago, have either been killed or have fled the nation. The Cirran Empire faces a wide-scale rebellion in its griffon territories to the east, and has decided to respond with force.

“In light of these events, the Emperor has ordered that every able-bodied stallion between the ages of eighteen and twenty-five be drafted into the Cirran Legion. It is the hope of the senate and the Emperor that by raising several new legions to deal with the problem, the rebellion may be crushed by the uninhibited might of the Cirran Empire, putting an end to the turmoil in the east before winter. Every Cirran eligible for the draft shall report to their town hall by the end of the day and make the flight towards Stratopolis to begin training.”

Arched Wing set the message down on the pedestal and looked gravely out over the shocked crowd before him. There was absolutely no noise in the entirety of Zephyrus. Even the winds were still. A foal cried out from the congregation, and its mother tried her best to hush it. Suddenly, the crowd was released from its icy grip and the ponies dispersed in every direction, heads slightly lowered and whispering quietly with their companions.

Hurricane felt pegasi brush past him on either side, but he didn’t see them. His gaze was fixated on the pedestal, still trying to take in what he had heard. War… Draft… His thoughts arranged themselves into a legible manner, and he realized the full implications of the order.

Cirra was at war with Gryphus, and he was going to be drafted.

Hurricane rocketed towards his house, almost colliding with Twister as she rounded the corner. His sister stumbled back, and she cast glaring eyes at her older brother. “What was that for? Don’t see what’s the big rush, Cane.”

Hurricane panted. “Where’s father?”

Twister angled her head to the side, confused. “Father? Inside where he always is. Hey, what’s the matter? Did something happen?” The filly pulled herself closer to Hurricane, concern filling her paint-streaked face. Hurricane shakily nodded, his feathers jutting outward as his mind raced.

“Tell you about it later,” he mumbled. The stallion pushed by Twister, making his way into the freshly painted house. Twister scratched her mane with a hoof and followed him in.

Inside, Hurricane found his father sitting in his favorite chair, looking out at the thunder clouds gathering to the west. It looked to be a mighty storm, and it lent the room an atmosphere of solemn anticipation. His father turned around when he heard the door close, and the beginnings of a smile that had started to form on his face disappeared when he saw Hurricane’s nervous expression.

“Hurricane? I didn’t think you’d be back so soon. What is it, my boy?” Raincloud walked into the room shortly after Thunder Gale finished speaking. Hurricane looked over his family and took a deep breath.

“Arched Wing came today with news from Stratopolis. Cirra’s gone to war with Gryphus.” Hurricane looked at his hooves, wondering how to pass on his next statement. But he didn’t need to. Thunder Gale rose from his seat, his weak joints cracking as he stretched the limbs to their full length, and walked over towards Hurricane. His expression told the family the rest of Hurricane’s unspoken message.

“Oh no…” Raincloud put a wing to her face, tears starting to form in her eyes. She sadly walked over to Hurricane and embraced him, warm moisture dripping from her cheeks into Hurricane’s mane. Twister was bewildered, and she looked from Hurricane to Thunder Gale to Raincloud and back again. Thunder Gale slowly raised a wing and laid it across Raincloud’s back, whispering soft words into her ear.

Hurricane felt the tidal wave of emotion build up within him and sweep over him like a storm. With a choked cry, he collapsed into his mother’s arms and lay there, trembling. He felt Thunder Gale massage his back gently with a hoof, and he unfolded his wings limply by his sides.

He heard a voice that sounded like Twister's from afar. "What happened? Mom, what's wrong?" There was a slur of words from Raincloud that passed over Hurricane's head, something about how he was going to be drafted because of the war. There was a startled gasp from Twister, and then she was silent.

After what seemed like hours, Hurricane gently pulled himself away from his mother and wiped the last tears from his eyes. Raincloud stood back against Thunder Gale and held herself, sniffling. Twister was staring dejectedly towards the far table leg, shaking as she grieved inwardly. Hurricane walked over and pulled her close, feeling his sister’s soft, paint-stained coat melt into his. She hugged him tightly and looked up into his face.

“Promise me you’ll come back, okay?” she squeaked, large eyes looking into his. Hurricane could hardly bear to see the sadness in her beautiful golden eyes, and he stroked her slowly behind her ears.

“I promise you, Twist, I’ll be safe.” The dark stallion looked over at his parents, who stood watching him solemnly from a few feet away. “Take care of Mom and Dad while I’m gone. They’ll need you more than ever.”

Twister nodded her head, trying to smile through her tears. After one last embrace, Hurricane let go of his beloved sister and gathered the few items of value from his room. He stepped outside with his family and began the long walk back into town.

It took them nearly an hour to reach town, as Thunder Gale’s condition kept him slow on his hooves. By the time they got there, there was already a small knot of young stallions gathered around a group of legionaries, who were taking names in giant scrolls.

Hurricane turned around to look again at his family. His mother ran up to him one last time and embraced him, though this time there were no tears. “Be strong, Hurricane. Know that we love you, and I will pray for you every day. Please be safe.”

Hurricane looked into his mother’s longing eyes, and he knew she was trying to be strong for him. “I know you do, Mom. I love you too. I’ll come back alive, you can count on it.” His mother stepped back towards his father and nodded her head.

Twister approached him next. “Kill some griffons for me, will ya?” His sister’s shining eyes betrayed the emotion she concealed with her humor. He smiled at her and tussled her mane with a hoof.

“Heh, I won’t let any by me, Sis. Talk to Dad more often. He misses your company, and he’ll miss mine too.”

As Twister returned to her mother, who rested a wing across her shoulders, Thunder Gale slowly approached his only son. His voice was soft, but undeniably clear.

“I never wanted this for you, Hurricane. I fought so that my children would one day see peace. But all I’ve done is advanced the game a few steps down the line. I wish with all my heart I could take your place, but I can’t. Whenever times seem tough, whenever things are at their worst, remember who you’re fighting for. Twist, your mother, your friends, maybe even one day your children. You’re a strong stallion, Hurricane. I know you’ll be just fine.”

Hurricane looked at his father and was surprised to see tears in the old pony’s eyes. “Thank you, Father, it means a lot. I’ll be back before you know it. Maybe we’ll have a story or two to compare?” Hurricane chuckled uneasily, and his father merely looked at him sadly.

“Stay strong, Hurricane, but remember there’s no weakness in tears,” the elder stallion looked towards the skies, where the first raindrops began to fall. “Emotions make us proud pegasi, more than just mere soldiers told to live and die for the Empire. Now go, son, with my blessing.”

Hurricane smiled meekly at his father and slowly began to walk towards the draft officers. When it was his turn in line, he gave them his name and age, and was directed over to where the draftees from Zephyrus were standing. There were about three dozen ponies in the group. Hurricane saw Silver Sword standing off to the side and walked over to him. The two pegasi brushed wings but were otherwise silent.

The rains came down harder, and many of the onlookers scrambled for cover under buildings. The draftees merely stood out in the open for another fifteen minutes until the legionaries assembled around them and directed the young stallions skywards. The platoon rose higher into the sky against the beating rain and began to fly to the north. Hurricane glanced one last look behind him and saw his father still standing out in the middle of the streets, despite his family’s insistence on moving somewhere dry.

Then a curtain of stratus clouds closed around him, and Zephyrus was gone.