In the end, mother was right—a rousing battle was exactly what we both needed following Wind Whistler’s first day of basic, though I don’t know which ended up more bruised for it—my body or my pride. Regardless, ’twas time to return to Epsilon and face a fresh set of more conventional challenges, as soldier evaluations were coming up along with some large-scale exercises.
And yet, some other, far more personal trials awaited me, as I would quickly learn. For Wind Whistler was not the only one dear to my heart seeking to stretch their own wings; another certain young fledgling would soon face his first challenge, and, for all his youth and fear, demand the right to meet it on his own…
I woke up the next morning feeling tired and achy… but also strangely happy and, methinks, at peace.
Silent Night served us both a very hearty breakfast of fruit, hay and eggs, a necessity given the energy we’d burned off the previous night… to say nothing of the wounds we needed to heal. To be sure, she had been right—the full-contact sparring session had done wonders for our mood and tension.
She had also surprised me, however—I regret I had initially thought to take it easy on her only to be quickly disabused of the notion; though certainly not in my class in terms of strength, she had stunned me with her speed and skill, forcing me to fight with all my considerable ability just to hold my own, besting me repeatedly in both the air and ground.
Even in such a short time, she taught me much of close combat, tagging me repeatedly with hoof and wing strikes, even bringing the back of her own blade—she kept one with her at all times; you simply never knew when one might be needed or the gryphons might discover her identity and send assassins for her—to my throat time and again. By the time it was over, I was walking away with a black eye and several hoof-shaped bruises on my barrel, to say nothing of a badly split lip and bleeding flank. Truthfully, ’twas certain I hadn’t been beat up so badly since basic.
For all that, methinks I can at least say I gave nearly as good as I got, leaving my adoptive mother with an assortment of cuts and bruises all her own, surprising her a couple times with a headbutt as well as my aerial skill, which did exceed hers. But she got around that by simple smarts and stealth, striking from shadows or resorting to my old trick of dust blinding; once or twice triggering a surprise lightning strike from nearby clouds that had the effect of blinding or stunning me with flash or boom. Once she even stirred up a small but sudden twister with her wings to slow me down, using it to knock me off balance or simply throw off my pursuit.
“There are no rules in combat, my daughter,” she reminded me when I got surprised at how dirty her fighting could be, remarking as much to her. “Particularly, ’tis certain, in my line of work. ’Tis only kill or be killed, only do what you must to accomplish your mission,” she finished, then regarded me as she might an instructor grading a student.
“Methinks your skills are impressive, but incomplete, young warrior. You need to work on your weather wielding, and tell Swift Strike to start teaching you knife fighting as the PSD practices. You may need it if the Ravens catch you without your wingblades,” she told me, giving me a gold-hilted Black Lance blade to practice with as well as a second letter to give to Swift Strike himself outlining a recommended training regimen for me.
I accepted them all gratefully, but ’twas still sad to have to leave her behind. She assured me she would be fine, though she admitted she might get lonely without Wind Whistler’s presence. “Perchance I will use that as an excuse to visit you on the border in the next few months? ’Twould be good to see you and Swift Strike again… as well as meet your gryphon friend,” she grinned.
“I would like that,” I answered, packing my rucksack into a storage gem and giving her a long hug goodbye before taking flight back to Fort Spur, just visible in the distance. ’Twas a bit awkward that I would have to return there to catch my naval transport to Epsilon, but there was little danger of running into Wind Whistler again, given the midmorning hour—they’d be running all the new recruits ragged out on the drill fields well away from the airship transport docks. Nevertheless, the front gate sentries were surprised by my battered appearance as they saluted me, one immediately asking if I wanted him to summon Bone Deep.
“’Tis no need,” I waved them off with a grin as I returned the salute. “They were only given me by my mother. Marks of affection to be worn proudly,” I told them as I walked by, causing jaws to drop open.
As soon as I was inside the base and past the protective enchantment that prevented flight in, I took to the air again, heading directly for the docks… though I might have paused long enough to look out over the distant drill fields, and see if I could pick out Wind Whistler. ’Twas hard to tell at that distance given all pegasi recruits were now dyed the same drab grey, but I know I saw at least one mare.
“Fare thee well, my sister,” I told her quietly. “And know again that my heart goes with you.” I bowed my head as I spoke.
* * * * *
’Twas a pair of scrolls waiting for me at the docks, presented me by the naval unicorn airedale, to my great surprise.
One was from First Lieutenant Ironsides thanking me for my presence the previous day, saying he understood how difficult it was for me but that I had once again done the Guard proud. He went on to say that he had personally interrogated and chewed out the PSD mare once she’d awoken, warning her that ’twas only at my recommendation she was not being court-martialed immediately for illegal weapons possession and exceeding the bounds of a duel.
“I conveyed your well-wishes, and her response was… rather pointed and profane. Regardless, she told me to tell you that she WILL face you again one day and to beware!” he concluded, bringing a smile to my face—for if ’twas indeed true, that meant the former Master Sergeant was determined to complete her training no matter what, if only to get another duel with me.
The second scroll was a short letter from Windshear, telling me that Wind Whistler had, at least, made it through her first night of basic, which was more than he could say for two stallions who had already quit. He went on to say that his initial impressions of her were quite mixed—that she unquestionably wasn’t warlike, but struck him as very observant and cerebral, though he didn’t yet know if that would help her or not.
He finished by saying he found her surprisingly well-conditioned and able to take abuse—“tell her mother she did well with her,” he instructed at one point—but that he simply didn’t know yet if ’twould be enough or she would be able to develop the fighting spirit necessary to be an Armored Guardspony, which he found very lacking in her at that moment. As an example, he told me she hadn’t responded at all to a stallion recruit mockingly mounting her at one point the previous night; something I would have greeted in basic with both hind hooves and broken ribs.
Though ’twas certainly troubling, he went on to say he gave her only a thirty percent chance of completing training… if she made it through the first week. I sighed, strangely certain she would fail despite my instincts and very heart telling me otherwise, but then his last line brought a smile to my face:
“PS: Whether she succeeds or fails, could you PLEASE ask Silent Night not to slay me in my sleep?”
I wrote him back a response saying in part that I would happily convey his request, but I could guess my mother’s reply:
No promises.
As it turned out, I had the transport all to myself for the trip back to Epsilon. As it was just us and some supplies, I ended up making conversation with the airedale mare, who kept glancing at my wounds repeatedly.
’Twas somewhat against protocol, but I liked her enough that I ended up autographing a piece of parchment for her. “For my daughter,” she requested, who she said admired me greatly and now hoped to join the Armored Guard herself someday. So what could I say to that except yes?
Her company made the six-hour trip pass quickly, and by the time we docked at Epsilon late in the afternoon with the sun going down, I had even written her daughter a letter telling her to follow her dreams but also know that they would not come true without much work and sacrifice. I passed her the scroll and exchanged a salute with her as she departed, heading for Outpost Delta for her next destination, where she was scheduled to deliver some supplies.
“Commander, Outpost Epsilon… arriving?” Fell Flight gaped at my beaten appearance as I stepped off and she saluted me, the twelve-pony honor guard behind her likewise trying not to stare. “What happened, ma’am…?”
“Nothing of consequence, Sergeant First Class,” I told her as I returned the salute and stepped off the transport, thoroughly enjoying the look on her face. “Don’t worry, I didn’t lose a duel. ’Twas only a fight with my mother,” I told her in complete deadpan, delighting in seeing her jaw drop even further. I then went to my office to catch up on paperwork and all that had happened in my absence, telling Fell Flight that unless there was anything pressing, I would speak with her later that evening.
“There may yet be, ma’am…” she told me somewhat cryptically, adding at my quizzical look that it was not her place to say more, requesting my permission to start taking Gavian hunting at night. Though surprised—he’d only been out during the day to this point—I acceded, looking forward to seeing my young friend again but knowing that per his usual schedule, he’d be doing schoolwork at that hour as a prelude to dinner.
I took dinner as well and did my evening rounds, finally returning to my stateroom when I was done, passing the room sentries and finding Gavian and Stormrunner waiting for me; the latter saluting and former giving me a big hug which he quickly broke upon noticing my wounds. “Moth-er…?” he asked me in Equish in some alarm, pointing at my injuries—he was getting into the habit of calling me that just as I’d finally done so for Silent Night, and I cannot say I minded.
“I’m fine, Gavian,” I assured him, asking him to show me his latest art and lessons, to which he only too eagerly agreed. ’Twould be a lie to say I wasn’t impressed with what he showed me. He was getting steadily better with both, ’tis worth noting again, and his Equish was coming along quickly now too; he could understand most of what was said to him and was trying very hard to speak it in return as often as he could, though he was still having trouble with certain words and sounds—his beak simply didn’t work the same way as pony muzzles, though I knew from the parleys I’d attended that with time and practice, gryphons could fluently speak the pony tongue.
What was harder for them, I was later told, was that our sentence structure was entirely different than theirs, forcing them to think about their words differently. The biggest difference was that verbs come first in Aeric, completely unlike our language. Methinks it gave me more than a few fits when I started trying to learn it!
’Twas then that Swift Strike entered my stateroom, stopped short, looked me over from head to toe, and then grinned. “Silent Night?” He indicated my wounds.
When he saw my surprised expression, he chuckled, pointing at several bruises in turn. “Two wing strikes followed by a blow to the side of the head with a knife hilt then immediately reversing to slash the throat? ’Tis one of her favorite patterns. She bested me with it once,” he told me. “Had she not used her blade’s dull side, ’tis certain you wouldst be dead.”
I nodded ruefully at that, knowing that had we’d been serious, she’d likely have slain me six times over, whilst I would have returned the favor only twice. “Indeed. And she requests you receive these. At least one contains training instructions for me,” I informed him, passing him the scrolls and showing him the gold-hilted Black Lance blade she’d gifted me.
He looked surprised at that. “Those blades are not lightly given, commander. ’Tis a sign of her favor that she granted you hers. It means she tested you and found you worthy of such a weapon,” he told me, accepting the letters to read later. “Our young friend here is likewise proving himself worthy of his own,” he informed me, putting a wing over Gavian’s back as the teen gryphon beamed, the sheathed Raven sword on his back strangely prominent. “After two months of training, methinks he is now good enough to fight for himself if needs be.”
Despite my pride and approval, the words gave me pause. Why was he telling me that now?
“M-Mother?” Gavian called to me again, somewhat more tentatively. “May I… go… hunt with… bat-pony to-night?” That he referred to Fell Flight in such a way was not a sign of disrespect; ’twas that he had a great deal of trouble with F-sounds due to his beak, and the words he used were ones he had already more or less mastered.
“Only if you finish your homework,” I told him, feeling ever more like the mother he called me, “and promise to obey all Fell Flight’s instructions!” Of late, he’d been getting a bit more adventurous on his forays, flying far enough away from his protection that he’d been making me nervous. Never mind the gryphons, there were still a few Corps mares that I thought might kill him if given the chance. Most of the base had come around to him, but most was not all, and it only took one vulnerable moment in front of one disgruntled veteran to end his life. I’d made clear that the life expectancy of anypony who tried to kill him would be measured in moments, but ’twas certain that didn’t stop some from scheming.
“Prom-ise!” he spoke the syllables separately but nodded eagerly, giving Swift Strike another glance. I just got a glimpse of his slight nod back before he left to take care of some duties as Corporal Zephyr.
Okay. ’Twas certain to me that something was going on, and as I set about to help him with his math again, the fact that his mind wasn’t fully in it quickly confirmed my suspicions as he repeatedly mis-added some sums. Finally, I decided to confront him directly.
“Gavian… is there something wrong?” I asked him. “Methinks you’re acting very distracted.”
He got a momentary look of alarm, glancing up at Stormrunner, who was posted at the entrance. I followed his gaze and realized he was asking for support. But for what…?
Whatever it was, Stormrunner stayed silent, perchance indicating to Gavian that he would not speak for him. “I… I…” he suddenly wrung his eagle foreclaws together, his tail twitching nervously. “Mo-ther, I w-want…”
“Yes…?” Methinks I wasn’t sure what he would be so nervous about telling me, but whatever it was, I was starting to think everypony on base was in on it except me.
“I w-want… to… duel somepony!” he finally forced the words out.
Of all the things he might have said, that was about the one thing most guaranteed to stun me silent short of him announcing that he wanted to return to the Empire. As a result, ’twas several seconds before I found my voice. “D… duel?” I repeatedly, almost dumbly, then both my rank and motherly instincts asserted themselves? “Who?”
“A mare…” he told me, then looked to Stormrunner for assistance again, and this time it was given.
“He’s having trouble with Flight Sergeant Osprey, ma’am,” the Guardspony pegasus stallion explained, referring to one of my more outspoken air platoon commanders. She was an Omega veteran and unquestionably good at her job, but liked neither me nor Gavian; I’d dressed her down twice already for insubordination and even made an example of her by besting her in a training duel with a little more force than ’twas necessary, hoping that a day or two in the infirmary would get the message across that I was in charge. “Ever since you left, she’s been picking on him, if not outright stalking him. Fell Flight feels that she may be inducing others to do the same.”
“I see…” I told him, my wings flaring in anger, making ready to leave, intending to burst in the barracks and then throw her through the nearest glass window. “I’ll soon put a stop to that!”
“NO!” Gavian exclaimed with surprising vehemence, grabbing at my foreleg with his talons. “No, mo-ther. M-my f-fight!” somehow he suddenly managed the sound. “I w-want… to… d… duel… her!” he told me, now trembling.
I gaped at him. Was he insane? “A duel against a veteran mare who wants to slay you? Absolutely not!”
“He’s ready, ma’am,” Stormrunner told me, stepping forward to stand at his charge’s side, his size dwarfing Gavian’s. “I’ve watched him train for months now and seen for myself how much better he’s gotten. Even Corporal Zephyr would say ’tis certain he can wield his sword well enough. If you wouldst doubt my words, or that this is now the right thing for him to do, then you wouldst do well to speak to your second,” he told me with an arched eyeridge.
I glared at them both, then activated my blue command crystal, causing the one in Fell Flight’s possession to vibrate and glow, indicating I wanted to see her immediately.
She arrived less than a minute later, appearing at my stateroom door. “Ma’am! Is something…?” she trailed off as she saw my expression and Gavian all but cringing, even with Stormrunner at his side.
“Yes, something is wrong,” I grated out, “And ’tis certain to me now you know what! He says he wants to duel Flight Sergeant Osprey! So answer me honestly—have you been encouraging this?” I demanded to know, getting in her face and watching her reaction carefully.
Fell Flight stood at attention, clearly intimidated despite my smaller size. “Ma’am… yes ma’am!” she admitted.
Methinks I was suddenly wondering if my subordinates had all gone mad at once, and if so, why. Was there something in the water? Or were the gryphons resorting to mind control crystals again? “Explain,” I all but hissed.
She did so, keeping her sentences short and clipped in recognition of my anger and impatience, reaching her conclusion in under a minute. “In summary, he’s in danger from certain soldiers, ma’am.”
“So I’m told!” I stalked around her as she stood at rigid attention. “I’ve just now learned of Osprey’s intentions! If he’s been threatened by her, why have you not ended it yourself? If this was a growing problem, you should have come down hard on her weeks ago!”
“With respect, I have, ma’am! Severely and repeatedly! But I fear ’tis not enough! She bares a grudge against him, holding him—and you—responsible for the loss of two of her friends in the Raven raid! Worse, she commands a growing cadre within the base that is dead-set against Gavian, and every time I punish her, they just get more brazen. Methinks you are correct and this must be dealt with… but not by us!”
I stared at her in disbelief. “And you think it can be dealt with by him?” I pointed a hoof at Gavian, whose eyes began to water, making me realize too late I’d just called him weak—which is one of the worst things you can ever call a gryphon.
“Ma’am! YES MA’AM!” Fell Flight shouted with surprising vehemence, loud enough that my sentries briefly ducked their heads inside to see what was happening. “We’ve all been readying him for this day, ma’am! Me, Zephyr, even the Master Sergeant here!” she said with a nod at Stormrunner, who nodded back at my glare, even meeting it evenly. He was the one pony on base who’d been able to best me so I gave his opinion a bit more credence. “He’s not helpless any longer, ma’am! And you insult him by saying otherwise!” she told me, not backing down at all.
With effort, I got my temper back under control, realizing she was right and trying to look past my protective instincts. These three were my loyal subordinates, friends and allies, not foals of the first order. More to the point, they were Gavian’s friends, and they wouldn’t be recommending putting him in danger without very good reason.
“Very well…” I finally said, trying to resort to logic where bluster had failed. “And you believe he could defeat her because…?”
Stormrunner and Fell Flight looked at each other, each asking the other if he wanted to go first. Whatever was said in their unspoken conversation, the latter answered. “These hunts we’ve been on, ma’am… have been less about that then giving him some training of my own away from prying eyes.
“’Tis certain I haven’t hurt him, but I’ve been giving him some real practice in air-to-air combat, teaching him how to use his sword and even his bare talons against airborne targets. He’s much better than you think now. I don’t know if it’s Zephyr’s training or just being well-fed, but he’s gotten quite quick. Far more, methinks, than the typical gryphon I’ve fought in the past.”
“I see. And just when, pray tell, were you planning to tell me this?” I asked, still angry about having been kept in the dark for so long.
“When he made his first kill on the hunt, ma’am. When I was satisfied he had developed enough of a hunting instinct and had bloodied his talons at least once,” she said, having enough sense to look apologetic. “’Twas why I wanted to start taking him out at night, in hopes he can do so. For in the end, methinks young Gavian is right, ma’am. Unless we allow him to do this, unless he can show that he can and will defend himself… then ’tis certain he will always be in danger.
“And with respect ma’am… we cannot guard him for the rest of his life; you cannot keep him at your side indefinitely. Methinks if he is to truly live among us, then he needs to be able to not only defend himself, but let everypony else know he can! We’ve brought him this far. ’Tis time for him to fly and fight under his own power.” She stepped out of her attention pose and trotted over to Gavian, standing on the other side of him from Stormrunner as she draped a large wing over his back.
“Methinks I know how you feel, ma’am. He is my friend too, and I no more wish to see him hurt than you. But I fear that if we do not let him fight, we only make it more likely he will be,” Stormrunner added.
I closed my eyes, then opened them again. “So to be clear, Master Sergeant: you wouldst risk his death… to keep him from being hurt?” I paraphrased, causing them both to grimace. “If what you say is true, then ’tis certain she’ll use a duel to try and kill him!”
“Probably,” he granted, his expression troubled. “But this way, we can do it under controlled circumstances. This way, we can set the terms of the duel such that if she loses, she loses face and rank. Methinks if she loses to him after swearing to kill him, she loses all her power and influence on the base, and Gavian gains respect in her place.”
I knew his words were true, yet I felt ready to tear my short mane hairs out for it. Then I remembered… “All this presumes he can win. And though I acknowledge his hard work and improvement, I am far from convinced he can!”
“I… can!” Gavian spoke up, trying to keep the tremor from his voice. “Mo-ther, please…” he then stepped forward and bared his neck to me. “Friends right. Need f… fight. Want pride. Want hon-or. Want to feel… str… strong…” he told me, struggling desperately to pronounce his words properly. “I am… still... gryph-on. Not weak. Not help-less. Not… now!”
He drew his sword and then launched into what Swift Strike had called a kata, a predefined series of moves designed to teach proper sword form and balance. He went through the motions swiftly and surely, his blade whirling and glinting in the low firegem light as his movements alternately took him through both the air and ground, finally ending with a killing strike against an imaginary opponent.
I shook my head at that. “’Tis impressive, but ’tis a large gap between practicing by yourself and fighting against others, Gavian. Especially those who want to kill you!”
“Indeed,” a new voice spoke up; we turned to see Swift Strike enter the room, dressed in his corporal’s uniform. He closed the door behind him before speaking again, trying to make sure the sentries outside didn’t hear his next words. “I have been sparring with him constantly since you left, commander. He is holding his own quite nicely. I’m not even holding back that much now.”
“Holding his own is not the same as winning! And a practice duel is not the same as actual combat!” I couldn’t believe I had to spell all this out to them.
“’Tis true, ma’am, they are not,” he agreed. “But ’tis also a leap that we all must make at some point. ’Tis time for him to do so,” he stood at Gavian’s side, making it clear I was now outnumbered three to one. “Speaking for myself, I would much rather have it happen here under an observed duel than in ambush when we aren’t looking. We cannot protect him at all times, ma’am. Not against a dozen mares increasingly inclined to hurt him.”
I was about to retort that I could beat those twelve mares to a pulp and threaten to kill them if they harmed Gavian, even have them court martialed or at least transferred out, but I immediately sensed it would ultimately only work in the short run, not the long. There would be others, and the only thing that might dissuade them was the certainty that Gavian could effectively fight back and even kill if needs be. But even if they were wrong and it did not dissuade them… that only meant Gavian had to be good enough to defend his own life. And had I not given him his sword for that very reason…?
Feeling besieged, I looked between the three, then to Gavian and his still teary eyes, suddenly recognizing how badly he wanted my support and approval, just as he always had. But I had just seen my sister off to experience pain and suffering beyond anything she knew or imagined; I had no wish to do the same to a young gryphon colt who I was increasingly forced to acknowledge I was looking upon as an adopted son.
“I need to think about this…” I told them all, going to my desk and sitting down heavily behind it, leaning my face on my forelegs. I don’t know how long I sat there with my hooves on my head—it could have been two minutes; it could have been ten—but finally I called to Gavian, who stepped forward and presented his throat again.
“Is this truly what you want?” I had to make sure, looking for any sign of doubt in his face. He nodded jerkily, but with certainty. “I see…” was all I could immediately say. “Methinks I understand why you want to do this. But I am still not convinced you are ready. So I will only allow this on two conditions,” I added quickly at his sudden hopeful look.
“First and foremost, you must make your first hunting kill—without help!” I looked pointedly at Fell Flight, who nodded. “Just as you can have no help in a duel. And I am not talking fish or a rabbit, you must slay a large game animal. And second: starting tomorrow, you are going to train with me for the next two weeks!” I told him, causing his eyes to go wide.
“You have satisfied them that you are ready. You must now satisfy me. And as much as possible; I will not go easy on you!” I warned him, my visible injuries perhaps giving my words additional weight. “In the meantime, we will double the guard on you, and either Swift Strike or Stormrunner is to be with you at all times in case Osprey or the mares who follow her try something sooner rather than later.
“These are my terms. And I expect them to be followed. Are we all clear on this?” I looked from him back to the others, and got nods and salutes in return.
“Thank you…” Gavian bared his throat to me again. “Not want you… up-set…”
My expression softened. “I’m not mad at you, Gavian,” I told him, reaching out to put my hoof on his chest. “I just… don’t want you hurt.”
“None of us do, ma’am,” Fell Flight answered to nods from the others. “But in the end, the best way to ensure his safety is to make sure he can ensure it himself.”
Gavian grasped my hoof with his left talons. “I… not want… you hurt… either!” he pointed at my black eye. “But… not want… to be…” he struggled for his next word, then spoke one in Aeric for translation.
“Burden, ma’am,” Fell Flight told me. “He doesn’t want to be a burden any more.”
“Bur-den…” Gavian repeated. “No… more… bur-den…”
The one good thing I could say about Gavian’s determination to fight his first duel is that it distracted me nicely from worrying about Wind Whistler.
I did get a second letter ten days into basic from Windshear, saying that four of the eight mares had already quit, but thus far Wind Whistler wasn’t one of them. Though she had a few shaky days to start, she was learning very quickly, he noted, and had thus far proven one of the smartest and best-conditioned recruits, the former being a testament to her and the latter to her mother’s training.
“Methinks she takes abuse well,” he told me, “And ’tis certain she’s not as easy as you were to rile. Methinks I don’t have to worry about her challenging me, but ’tis likely she will need to deal with some stallions who are harassing her before all is said and done. For now, I’m allowing it to happen to see how she reacts,” he told me bluntly.
I sighed and rubbed my eyes at that. ’Twas my fear regarding her; that she simply didn’t have the sense of pride and honor she needed to be a soldier or a Guardspony. She would have to assert herself and show real fighting spirit eventually; if she did not, then ’twas certain no amount of drive and determination would help her once they started combat training.
“Remind her she cannot stand by my side except as a warrior,” I instructed Windshear to tell her in my later reply, “And that we have been in enough brawls at the Aching Drum together for me to know she can be!”
And yet, as I read the letter over a second time, I reflected that Gavian did have that fighting spirit. For all we’d taught him, one thing he’d taught me was that gryphon pride and honor were very real things; every bit as necessary to him as the meat he’d been increasingly procuring on his own.
Gavian had made his first kill within a week after our talk, slaying a large flying boar with only his beak and talons as Stormrunner watched. Our gryphon friend had beamed with pride as the Celestial Guardspony confirmed his feat to me, thus meeting the first of my two conditions. Fell Flight had been particularly gratified not just for the kill, but getting a few meals of her own out of it; the pair went out that night to eat from it. If the campfire smoke was any indication, they cooked it.
’Twould be a lie to say the thought didn’t turn my stomach a bit. I wondered then if thestrals were closer in kinship to gryphons than ponies, and what would happen if the gryphons one day tried to turn them against us for that very reason.
Would they join them? Would they be tempted after how poorly they’d been treated for the past three centuries? And would they then become enemies every bit as dangerous as the gryphons were, turning the night sky into a killing field?
We would get an answer to those questions far sooner than I could ever imagine.
Two weeks passed all too quickly. A desert spring was breaking over the valley, wildflowers blooming along the canyon’s cracks and crevices as I assembled my full battalion on the training grounds one fateful morning. Obstinibly, it was to discuss matters ranging from personnel evaluations to upcoming exercises the Corps was scheduling, division-wide drills to rehearse responses to everything from minor raids to outright invasion, no matter how unlikely the latter looked at that point. We were even going to practice creating a storm, with the goal of assembling storm clouds into a deadly supercell in ten minutes, and just as quickly breaking it back down.
Despite my excitement at making something so massive and destructive, my stomach churned. I recited my orders mechanically, even numbly, knowing what was planned at the very end, Gavian at my side wearing his sword and blue-dyed raven vest.
As much as I didn’t want to admit it, he had proven himself good enough to fight a duel now. I’d confirmed that for myself in morning and evening sparring sessions, ones in which I’d had to override my own motherly instincts to occasionally go very hard on him, pressing him to his limits and then some—and perchance giving me some sense of how Silent Night must have felt when she trained her daughter. Though far better than the average raider for all his training and all his acquired speed and skill, he was still no match for me, to be sure—’twas certain I could have slain him quickly if I really meant to—but the average Corps soldier…?
That brought up a second issue. My soldiers were far above average, given the intense training regimens I was giving them, a fact that applied to Flight Sergeant Osprey and her cadre as well. He did not have their strength or stamina at this point, though the latter were normally hallmarks of the gryphons, meaning that a long duel worked against him.
“So methinks that just means he plays to his own strengths,” Swift Strike suggested when I presented the dilemma to him. “His small size and his quickness are his assets. I’ve trained him to fight far differently than the typical gryphon,” he reminded me.
“He’s hard to hit with wingblades or arrows, and can sting and move quite effectively.” he ran his hoof affectionately through Gavian’s short mane feathers as he spoke, eliciting a smile from him. “If he fights smart, he can win. And perchance the key, then… is to make sure his opponent doesn’t…?”
His words were meant for Gavian more than me, but in the end I took them to heart as well, sending Osprey out on weeklong leave in the leadup, hoping to dull her edge a bit. I had some cause to wonder if it had in fact backfired when she returned looking refreshed instead of hung over, glaring at Gavian just as strongly as she ever had when she stepped into formation. But at that point, ’twas nothing for it. I had promised Gavian today would be the day, and I could not break my word.
“Before we adjourn, there is one final matter…” I felt my guts clench as I spoke my next words. “Flight Sergeant Osprey, front and center!” I barked, waiting for her to obey. She did so promptly despite her dislike for me, trotting forward and saluting.
“Reporting as ordered, ma’am!” she replied, her eyes wary. “What does the commander wish of me?”
I stared at her for a moment, then closed my eyes. “’Tis not what I wish at all, Flight Sergeant,” I told her, “But what our young friend here requires…”
Greetings, my Equestrian friends. At my mother’s request, ’tis time for me to put down my artist brush and pick up the writing quill again.
Yes, before anypony asks, ’tis true that I do still call the Captain ‘mother’. ’Tis a title she earned early on, one I initially used for simply finding the word easier to pronounce (“Commander” had too many syllables and difficult sounds for me to start), but quickly coming to see her as the true mother figure I’d always wanted.
For all she had done for me and all the kindness she’d shown me, ’twas hard to see her upset with me, but no matter how long I stayed among ponies, I was still a gryphon, and ultimately, for the sake of my own spirit and self-respect, I had to be able to fight and hunt for myself.
In the end, mother understood this, but still made very clear what I faced. “If you do this, I cannot protect you, Gavian,” she told me the night before. “You are subject to the rules of the duel, and if you are the challenging party, that means she gets to set the terms. ’Tis not allowed for her to demand a duel to the death, but that does not mean she may not break the rule to try and kill you. And even I would be hard pressed to stop her in time.”
“I… know…” I replied, and believe me, I wasn’t just saying it. ’Twas certain I was afraid. I knew what these mares could do in combat; I still had nightmares about the failed raid I’d taken part in, and nary a night didn’t pass when I didn’t have more nightmares still about what could yet happen.
’Twould be a lie to say I didn’t have second thoughts, especially when I lay in bed wide awake, glancing over at the cot where my mother slept, hoping and praying I would prove worthy of her trust in me… particularly given I was planning something I knew she wouldn’t like. For all my struggles with the Equish language, I was aware of more than she knew; I understood how badly it hurt her to see her sister off and how worried she now was for me.
I had no wish to hurt her, and certainly no desire to be killed, which ’twas certain I understood to be a very real possibility were I to go through with this. And yet… for all my new friends and my new life, and for all of my artistic ability, methinks this was the one place where my gryphon blood simply could not compromise—I had to be able to stand up and fight for myself after sixteen years of not being able to do so. Perchance I still had warrior fantasies; what tiercel didn’t at that age? But in the end, I needed this for me.
“Your young friend?” Flight Sergeant Osprey turned towards me and glared, her expression one of pure hate. “The sole reason six ponies and two of my own friends are dead?” she asked, to some grumbles of agreement behind her.
Mother’s eyes narrowed; methinks she normally would have greeted such disrespect by throwing the offender through the nearest hard but breakable surface and rubbing her face in the dirt.
“The sole reason we did not go to war with the Empire. The sole reason thousands of ponies—and gryphons—still live,” she reminded all present, causing her own undercurrent of agreement, one that to my eagle ears sounded a bit stronger than Osprey’s. “I am sorry for your loss, Flight Sergeant; I would have saved them all if I could. But you can also be assured the Empire was repaid for its treachery fifty times over,” she said in reference to casualties from the retaliatory superstorm strike on Raptor Base.
“And what good does that do me?” Osprey’s lip began to quiver. “You’re acting as if saving him saved us? Well, the EIS and Lances would have figured it all out anyway! You had no business protecting him, orders or no! He deserves death, and I would gladly give it!”
Mother looked ready to explode, but she took a deep breath before she spoke again. “If that is truly what you believe… then I invite you to take him up on his offer of a duel.”
For all her anger, the mare looked surprised for a moment. “A… duel?”
Before Mother could speak again, I stepped forward. I was still having trouble with certain syllables, but I said, “F-Flight Ser-geant Os-Prey, I ch… challenge you to a duel. Knockout, s-sub-mission…” I took a deep breath before speaking the final part of my sentence, knowing how it was going to be received. “Or death!”
Mother’s face paled under her coat dye at the last word I spoke. “Gavian!”
“Oh really?” Flight Sergeant Osprey’s own surprise quickly gave way to glee as she realized it wasn’t a trick. “You wish a death duel with me, little chickenhawk?”
“No!” For the first time, there was genuine panic on mother’s face as even Swift Strike and Fell Flight’s faces showed visible shock; none of them had known I was going to do this. “Death duels are not allowed on base!”
“Between soldiers, true enough. But he isn’t one, is he?” Osprey retorted, scarcely able to believe her good fortune. “And he challenged me, ma’am. He offered the terms, and I accept them!” she deployed her wingblades, and I immediately brandished my sword as for a single, terrifying moment I thought she was going to attempt to strike me down right then and there.
Mother intervened immediately, planting herself between us, her mind scrambling. “If this is to be a duel, then it will be conducted formally and properly, Flight Sergeant! I already have a duel circle prepared—”
“With respect, commander, your preparations are meaningless. I am the challenged party. And that means I get to set the terms!” Osprey replied. “So methinks my terms are simple: no rules and no boundaries! We fight in the ground and air, full combat! For as long as it may last!” Her eyes had taken on a very dangerous gleam and she was now pawing at the ground with a hoof impatiently. “And when I win, I am untouchable—no punishment! And furthermore, you will arrange to have me transferred back to Omega immediately… ma’am!”
Mother went livid, but with great effort kept her temper in check. “Gavian, you still have to accept those terms,” she quickly reminded me, trying to save me yet again. “Do you?”
I took a deep breath, and in response, I drew my sword and pointed it at Osprey. “I… do!” I told her, feeling awful keeping this part of my plan from her and everypony else. I had no intention of killing the Flight Sergeant, but I had simply decided that I had to allow her the opportunity to kill me if I was truly to gain everyone’s respect.
Mother’s shoulders slumped as Osprey laughed and her cadre of a dozen ponies cheered. “Then don’t expect this to be quick or easy, little Chickenhawk!” she told me again. “For what you helped do to my friends, I will make sure you suffer!” she slashed at the air with her wingblades for emphasis.
That sparked a bit of genuine anger in me. “I… did… nothing to them!” I spat out, tears welling in my eyes as I remembered the ultimate betrayal, to be informed my life was considered worthless by my own nation’s soldiers. “My own… kind… want me dead, you… gryphon in pony clothing!”
Her jaw dropped open at the near-mortal insult as Mother nodded ruefully. “Methinks I couldn’t have put it better,” she sighed, realizing she was trapped, forced now to oversee a duel that could well end in my death, and being helpless to stop it. “You hate all gryphons, but Gavian is living proof there are good and honorable ones out there, Flight Sergeant. We’re supposed to be better than them, not stoop to their level!”
“Horseapples!” Osprey spat out. “There’s nothing honorable about them! For all the times I’ve fought them and witnessed their atrocities; for all the friends I’ve lost in six years of service at Omega, methinks I can safely say this, ma’am—the only good gryphon is a dead one!” she proclaimed to more than a few cheers from the assembled battalion, and she seemed to take further heart from them. “But where are my manners? After all, we’ve only decided what happens if I win. So, my little spring chicken… what are your terms if you win?” She was suddenly struggling not to laugh.
I kept my gaze steady. “If I win… you… apologize to com-man-der, to me… and undergo personal training alongside me with her!” I added the last part on a whim.
She laughed out loud. “So be it,” she confirmed. “You drive a hard bargain but the terms are acceptable. Then let us not delay any longer!” she proclaimed loudly like she was now in charge—which, in some ways, she then was. “We will start a duel right here and now, then! If you wouldst be so kind as to give the signal, Commander…?” She rubbed it in further.
The look on Mother’s face said that if I died, then duel terms or no, she was going to do everything in her power to someday pay Osprey back in kind. With a glance at an equally troubled Stormrunner and Swift Strike, who could interfere no more than she, she stepped between us, giving me one final, lingering look, then closing her eyes in what I knew then to be a prayer. “Combatants… ready yourselves!” she instructed, clearly not about to leave her place between us until the last possible second.
“By all means, gaze on your pet chicken for the last time, commander,” Osprey mocked, dropping into a combat crouch as I did the same, drawing my sword and rearing up to take a ready stance, my wings flared for instant flight. “Now, no more delays! Give the signal!” she ordered like she was the base commander, and though infuriated anew, Mother had no choice but to obey.
“Combatants… begin!” she brought her hoof down in a slashing motion between us.
Osprey immediately leapt at me, blades extended; I made no effort to evade as she was on me in mere moments. But I had not trained for months under Swift Strike’s patient tutelage to fall so easily to an initial attack—especially one that was slower than Swift Strike’s typically were! There was a sharp WHANG! and eruption of sparks as our blades clashed, but by the time she had flown past, I’d been rocked backwards but otherwise stood unharmed, having successfully parried her first assault.
Though momentarily surprised, she quickly recovered. “Not bad for a featherbrain,” she told me, circling me slowly, making an occasional feint my way. “’Tis certain I would have been disappointed if you fell so quickly. For if I’m to properly enjoy this chance to avenge my fallen friends, I’ll want to prolong our duel as much as possible!” she shouted, then made a second pass, this time looping in the air, her blades spinning before me in a spiral pattern I knew was very difficult to dodge.
This, however, ’twas where my smaller body and quicker reflexes came into play, ones I’d developed in countless practice sessions with Stormrunner, who had taught me how to fight larger opponents. Wingblades were lethal, but they had one weakness—directly in front. So instead of taking flight as I’m sure she expected me to, I rolled forward with my sword directly in front of me, using my wings to give me extra momentum as I whipped my blade around in an overhoof strike with blinding speed, forcing her to react lest it come right down on her head. My choice of tactics left my narrow form out of reach of her own blades unless she shifted direction… which she did, a fraction of a second too late, trying to bring her right wingblade to bear.
That was my cue. I shifted fractionally myself such that my blade struck the inside of hers near the wingbase, where her strength was least, and I used that to my advantage. Her slash parried again, I erupted from beneath her right shoulder, driving my blade’s hilt into the sensitive flight muscles beneath them, causing her to audibly gasp and her flight to falter, as to the shock of not just her but all present, she crashed into the ground behind me while I quickly regained my stance, facing her again.
“Not as easy as you thought, Flight Sergeant?” Fell Flight mocked. “We’ve been readying him for this day. And I have to say, methinks he’s learned his lessons well!”
“Then you’re as much a traitor to Equestria as the commander, bat-pony!” Osprey snarled, climbing back to her hooves. “I never liked serving under you at Omega either!”
Fell Flight’s emerald green eyes narrowed; she’d told me about the eye operation she’d once had whilst we were out on the hunt. “Assuming he doesn’t put you in the infirmary, gryphonbait, I’ll be happy to do it myself once this is finished!”
“You’ll never get the chance!” she shouted, then attacked me again, this time holding nothing back as her surging emotions got the best of her, throwing blade strikes left and right.
Again, I parried them all in rapid succession, but her sheer frenzy was starting to drive me back, and forced me to take to the air myself, finally, where I made a show of fleeing before her.
“Coward!” she cried as I led her down the base obstacle course, something I’d been practicing at night under Fell Flight’s guidance. My wings had gotten much stronger along with the rest of me, and it showed as I effortlessly weaved my way through, forcing Osprey to follow me… and slowly fall behind. As Swift Strike had always emphasized, my smaller size was working to my advantage again, allowing me freedom of movement and rapid changes of direction she couldn’t match as she took a hoop too fast and clipped it, sending her hard into the ground again.
In frustration, she got back up and slashed the offending obstacle to pieces with her blades, then resumed her pursuit, only to realize she’d lost me… until I impacted her back from above with the hilt of my blade.
She cried out from the hit to the sensitive nerve cluster, knocked to the ground again, and I looked back to see Firefly nodding with approval. I’d gotten the idea from her, how she told me she’d once bested an angry Guardspony by taking advantage of his inebriation and emotional state to lead him down an obstacle course she knew he was unfamiliar with.
Though this wasn’t quite the same circumstance, ’twas close enough, I thought, and it had the same effect as she pulled herself up again, far more shakily this time. “Do… you… yield?” I asked her from my hover with a pointed blade, but the flash of her eyes answered for her.
“Our battle is to the death! And I’m far from dead!” she shrieked with increasing shrillness, adrenaline overriding her pain as she took flight again and started trying to run circles around me, feigning attacks from multiple directions before her blade finally found me, catching my upper foreleg. The pain was blinding and I cried out as a second blow knocked the sword from my talons, disarming me.
Her expression leaped only to quickly fall as I immediately lashed out with my good arm and raked her face with my talons, giving me a chance to get away and try to find my blade again. I dove, looking for it, but she spotted it first and landed before it, staring at me in shock and pain as she rubbed her slashed cheek with a hoofstriker and found three parallel lines of blood.
Despite the injury I’d inflicted, ’twas certain I was in trouble, and I think everypony knew it. I’d been only dimly aware of cheers and shouts as we dueled, but now the Corps soldiers had fallen silent as they watched, many of them from flight at a respectful distance, leaving us to it. Mother was there too, doing the only thing she could—making sure none of Osprey’s friends jumped into help, but I also saw real surprise and hope on her face as she saw me hold my own and then some.
She had not only given me ideas, but she was also the reason I’d been able to recover so quickly after taking my first blade wound. She’d made a point in our training to bruise me a bit, telling me repeatedly that I had to be able to take a hit and keep fighting. She’d hated it, but she’d done it, and now her efforts were bearing fruit.
I’d thank her for it later, assuming I survived the next minute without my scimitar. Now breathing hard, Osprey stared at me, then looked down at the Raven blade before her. Instead of attacking me, she suddenly picked it up with a hoof, studying it. “This sword… might have killed my friend,” she told me quietly, as if to remind herself of that fact. “Perchance ’tis only fair then… that I use it to kill you!” she said, grasping the hilt awkwardly in her hooves.
“My… sword…” I corrected, flexing my right talons repeatedly, trying not to let them fall numb from the heavily bleeding wound in my forearm. “Was… gift from… Mother…”
“Mother?” she repeated derisively. “You call her mother?” she shot her commander a stunned and scornful glance.
I nodded. “My real mother… abandoned me…” I told her. “‘ather said… I was too… small and weak. So they left me when… was six. So hungry… had to steal… got beaten… only wanted to be-long…” there were tears in my eyes as I remembered. “Then… raiders came. Mistress offered… place. But she…” I shuddered.
“But it turned out she wanted him for other things!” Mother finished for me. “Things that should never happen in civilized society! The truth is, he’s as much a victim of the Empire as your friends were, Flight Sergeant! And everypony here except you can see that now!”
“Shut up!” Osprey shouted, then charged me, having lost all composure, now intending to finish me quickly.
Attack in anger and you play into your enemy’s hooves! Swift Strike’s words were swiftly remembered, so I simply started dodging her increasingly wild swings, darting away, trying to find an opening or, failing that, exhaust her. At long last, I found one when she tried to bring my own sword down in a clumsy overhead strike, leaving herself wide open from below as I curled my right talons into a fist and shot upward before the blow could land, striking her chin hard and ignoring the sharp flash of pain from my wounded foreleg it brought me.
I heard her teeth clack together hard and immediately followed up with a second strike from my left talons, raking the top of her muzzle and leaving blood dripping into her eyes. Shrieking in anger and pain, her grip on the sword slackened, and I relieved her of it, dodging a half-blind wingblade swing to strike the base of her wings hard again with the dull-edged but still solid back of my blade.
She screamed as she fell to the ground, her wings useless, hitting hard and rolling over twice. “No! You won’t win! You can’t win!” she told me as I landed before her and she struggled to hold me off, this time by standing and pinwheeling her hoofstrikers, trying to buy time for her numbness to pass and regain her power of flight. I gave her no chance, reversing my blade to bring the dull-edged back in a wide swing to the side of her head. It knocked off her helmet with a sharp clang and enough of the impact got through to stun her, making her stumble hard. Dazed and disoriented, she fell on her side, and by the time she’d blinked her eyes clear again, she found my sword at her throat.
To my surprise, she began to cry. “Just… kill me…” she instructed. “My friends are dead. And I couldn’t protect them. I can’t even avenge them! What use am I?” she asked her gods.
“No…” I told her, though I didn’t immediately move my sword away. “Not want… kill you…”
“But you have to! You’re a gryphon! Bloodlust is all you know!” she accused.
“Really? Because methinks the only one who’s shown any bloodlust today is you, Flight Sergeant!” Fell Flight all but sneered, but then deferred back to me.
“I like… to hunt, yes. But also like… drawing. And… flying,” I told her. “And I like… Mother. And… friend-ship.” On cue, Stormrunner, Fell Flight, Swift Strike and Mother herself came to my side. “Not hate you. Not want kill you!” I told her, and when they arrived, I sheathed my sword, then offered her my talons. “Please. Sorry for friends. Not want them dead. Not want… any of this…” I told her, tears in my eyes.
“Surrender, Flight Sergeant,” Mother ordered, far more gently than before as she fully understood for the first time how badly her subordinate was hurting inside. “’Twas a death duel, but he spared you when methinks you had no intention of returning the favor. You say he has no honor? Well, methinks he’s proving you wrong right now! Submit, and I will let all your threats and insults go. Fail to do so, and I will end this myself if I have to!”
“What does it matter?” Osprey asked, pounding a hoof down in frustration, blood from her facial wounds dripping out on the ground, her wings still only able to twitch. “No matter what I do, Wall Cloud and Waterspout are still dead!”
“’Tis true. ’Tis also true that killing Gavian would neither bring them back, nor heal your heart,” Fell Flight answered this time. “My mentor told me long ago that seeking vengeance only deepens pain. That to start down that path means you may never come back. But you have the chance to turn back here and now, Flight Sergeant. You lost fairly. Admit that fact and accede to the terms of the duel. If you do not…”
Her slitted eyes narrowed. “If you do not, then my earlier promise stands and you do not walk away from here!”
“If you seek to honor your fallen comrades, then do so with life, not death,” Stormrunner addressed her for the first time. “Let your love for them be their legacy, not blind hatred for one who was powerless to prevent it.”
“Buck you…” she struggled to pull herself up again but failed, her wings still nonfunctional. “Buck you all…”
“Last chance, Flight Sergeant,” Mother said with strained patience. “Do you surrender?”
“I… I…” she was staring up at me now as I looked back, sorrow and pity in my eyes.
“Please…” I begged her. “No more hate. No more hurt,” I said, trying but perchance not quite getting across the idea that if she stopped hating, she’d stop hurting.
“And you think it’s that easy?” She laughed bitterly. “All I have left is my hate. Without it I have nothing. Without it I am nothing!”
“With-out, you have… friend-ship,” I answered, finally seeing how gravely wounded she really was. “And I w-want… to be friend.” I offered my open talons to her again.
She did not take them but whatever she saw in my eyes seemed to break her remaining will. “I… submit,” she said, her head and shoulders slumping as she collapsed to the ground. “I give up…” she spoke through tears, and I could not help but have them myself as she broke down completely, sobbing helplessly as I was led away to get my wound treated and Mother hugged me hard, telling me how proud she was.
By all rights, I should have been too. I had won my first duel. I had fought well and shown honor, and the cheers of the watching ponies were raucous, letting me know that they finally saw me as an equal. And yet, all I could think of at that moment was the broken mare I left behind me, wondering if her wounded heart and shattered spirit could ever be made whole again.