Everything hurt. Gina couldn’t have said specifically what caused her the most agony, if anything. The ache went deep—into every cell, every tissue. Every few dragging steps she wondered if maybe she could curl up under the scorching sun and let it take her for good.
But however much she might want to give up and let herself die, she didn’t stop. If she gave up now, what was left of two nations might destroy each other. That damned volcano might have its final victory after all.
“You sure you don’t want to try flying again?” Isabel asked, her voice nervous and probing. “Just for a few feet. Just in case.”
Gina turned to glare at her, and for once she didn’t temper her anger. “I’m sure I can’t fly, Isabel. And I’m not leaving you.” For entirely self-serving reasons too—the pony was almost unscathed, and as good for carrying cargo as ponies ever were. Gina had filled every container she could with water and given Isabel most of it to carry. She wasn’t an earth pony, but she still bore the load without complaint.
In some ways, the terrain could’ve been worse. As they walked, the land became dryer, with only sparse shrubs and other debris. This was no swamp, ready to submerge them both in mud and drown them in unseen pitfalls.
Instead, they would bake alive. Perhaps the last two witnesses to an act of war.
“So… let’s talk,” Isabel said, after another few miles. It must be afternoon now. Gina felt as dry as birdseed, but she didn’t ask for water. It would be a long time before they reached another river. “Our plan. We have all this time, we must have a plan.”
“Okay,” Gina said. But she wasn’t really feeling it. The truth was, no matter how important her duty had always been, it was hard to be passionate about a doomed mission. Gideon had been on a stolen pony airship. That meant they would probably be reaching New Scythia about now with their treacherous report.
The emperor would take a day to consider what to do, but it would all be pretense. It wouldn’t be about whether to go to war, but planning how to fight it. He would see how inevitable Equestria’s response would be.
“So, Vengeance is going to do everything they can to subvert a possible peace process. They might kill the messengers, or maybe fake denials and proclamations from the emperor.”
“They’d really do that?” Isabel asked. She didn’t sound like she was curious so much as she was trying to keep Gina going.
Gina’s brain hurt too much to be thankful for it. Everything did, right down to her non-functional wings. If I don’t get to a doctor soon they might not heal properly. I’ll be paralyzed for the rest of my life.
But what did that matter if Accipio invaded Equestria and everyone starved?
“Well, they attacked me. That’s essentially the same thing. There’s no way Gideon would just do that out of the blue. Probably Santiago told him to look for an opportunity for something like this. They don’t call them Vengeance for nothing. I bet he’s still trying to get revenge for his father. Killing Velar isn’t enough. He’s trying to destroy everything that Gaius ever built.”
“Velar isn’t dead,” the pony said, her voice coming almost by reflex. “The Equestrians took him for treatment.” It didn’t sound argumentative—it sounded religious.
Gina’s eyes widened, and for a few seconds it seemed the haze had lifted a little. “Why do you care?” It was too bitter—Isabel didn’t deserve the anger from her.
And the unicorn sounded hurt now. Ponies just weren’t as tough as birds, even ponies that grew up in civilization. “Because he’s strong, and he’s good. He’s honorable. Unity wouldn’t let him die when the world needs him so badly.”
Gina didn’t reply for some time. She dragged her legs through the hardened ground, raising a little cloud of dust as she went. It wasn’t quite sandy here, more like the broken ground of somewhere that had been fertile a generation or so ago. But it was all dry now, and there was no sign of civilization. Even what passed for pony society was absent here.
“That prayer you were saying when I woke up. When you thought I wasn’t listening. That was for him, wasn’t it?”
Isabel looked away. Her ears flattened, her scent embarrassed. “Some of it. Some was for you.”
Gina had learned a great deal about slaves in her time officiating the law, but the hodgepodge religions of each culture had never been one of them. She knew the zebras still had their own tribal gods, and the minotaurs had given themselves over completely to Unity. They had their own temples, their own priestly orders—like simpler imitations of the true faith. But the enslaved ponies weren’t quite either one. They seemed to believe whatever was convenient at the time. Even Isabel.
“I’ve never seen any bird survive a gut wound like that, Isabel,” she said. Using the same voice she might’ve used to tell a fledgling that they wouldn’t ever be able to cast spells like a pony. “I know a bit of medicine. The contents of the intestine leaks into the chest cavity, and the whole thing goes septic. Organs start to rot. It’s an agonizing way to die, and there’s not a damn thing we can do about it. Except for the Old Magic.”
“Which he refused,” the unicorn added, sounding only a little defensive. “Because he was too good to trade lives. And he won’t need to. Unity won’t let him die. The ponies will save him.”
Gina couldn’t help but argue. After everything she’d seen—with as hopeless as the future looked ahead of them, she had less and less reason to be optimistic. “If he’d taken the lives that offered themselves for him, Virtue wouldn’t have looked so weak. Maybe Santiago would’ve waited a few years to try whatever treason he’s plotting. What if Unity doesn’t save him? The law permits slaves to volunteer for a spell like that. Maybe he could’ve had enough Virtue to raking follow it.”
Isabel stopped walking, an actual glare forming on her face for a few seconds. “It wouldn’t have been wrong for him to follow the law,” she said. Her voice suddenly seemed small. Almost as though she were afraid to tell Gina what she was thinking. But then she looked around—at the wasteland all around them—and she said it anyway. “Most citizens follow the law and no more. They’re afraid of it. Afraid of birds like you coming to take their wealth and power away. But then there’s Velar. He doesn’t do what he does because he’s afraid of punishment, he does it because it’s the right thing to do. He didn’t take one of his slaves to save him because then he wouldn’t be Velar. He was only hurt in the first place because he went out into a duel to help a slave.”
Suddenly Gina understood. Isabel’s defense, her faith in his survival, everything. “You didn’t come up with this yourself.”
It wasn’t a question. The unicorn shook her head. “Lots of ponies were talking about it. Pierre from the palace, he was the one who actually volunteered the information. One of the heir’s teachers… language instructor, I think. But the prince sent him back to his family. And Pierre told his wife, and she told…”
“I get it,” Gina sighed. Maybe I shouldn’t. But she was in far too much pain for good judgement. “Velar fought, you know. He’s killed more birds than most. He helped destroy house Purity. We had plenty of virtue too. More than clan Virtue ever had. If Purity was on the throne right now, there wouldn’t even be a question about invasion. And birds would still respect the law. Maybe Unity wouldn’t have punished us with Mons Ignis in the first place.”
It was Isabel’s turn for a bitter laugh. “Of course, mistress.” That stung even more than an argument would have. I know better than you, but you’re protected from it because of your position.
Gina shook her head once. “I’m sorry to question you, Isabel. I don’t have anything against the heir, if that’s what’s bothering you. I don’t mean to take your hope away. Maybe the ponies really can do medical miracles like they claim.” Or maybe they’re just going to put him somewhere no one can see and then use the Old Magic themselves. The prince would be too delirious with illness to really notice by then.
But Gina was beginning to realize that she didn’t actually know the Equestrians as well as she hoped she did. Her one brief visit in childhood had done little to prepare her for the potential war on the horizon. Their males could be just as brave (and stupid) as birds.
But a few ships of sailors couldn’t defeat the most skilled and ruthless killers in all Accipio.
They walked in silence again for a long time, long enough for both of them to cool down.
Gina stopped when the sun was getting low, unable to drag her hooves for much longer.
Besides, this seemed like a great campsite. A little wood of trees clustered around a dry riverbed, many of which were turning yellow or brown from lack of water. Those that weren’t already dead would be soon.
“Get as many of the greenest leaves you can,” Gina said, settling onto a clear patch of ground to rest. “We’re going to make a signal fire right before sunset. Maybe one of our patrols will see it.”
“Gideon might see it and turn around,” Isabel offered, but she went to work anyway. The pony labored without complaint, and soon enough they had a gigantic bonfire.
It was already plenty warm without it, so they kept it far away—just outside the boundaries of the wood, in fact. Any closer and Gina feared it might just set the whole thing ablaze, and earn them accusations of ecological sabotage along with the long list of real war crimes.
I wonder if we’ve crossed into Accipian territory yet. Is this still Equestria? She couldn’t remember exactly where the ship had been on the map in relation to the border. Certainly it had to be close by now. After as long as they’d walked…
They shared a few strips of dried fruit stolen from an Equestrian ration, then curled up together in the gloom. Ponies and birds were both social sleepers, after all. At least the civilized ones were.
It was pitch black when Gina finally awoke, her ears full of the sound of engines. She felt stiff, and her bad wing felt like it might tear right off her back. But she forced herself to stand, looking around the clearing.
She barely even noticed the pony shapes—dark-furred creatures that carried no lights and hardly even moved. But there were a few scraps of moonlight streaming down from around them, enough to outline the batlike wings, the dark purple armor, the rifles pointed at her.
“You’re awake,” said one of the ponies, emerging from the gloom to stand beside her. His weapon was undrawn on his back, but close enough for him to reach it quickly if he needed to. “Good. Captain wants you aboard yesterday.”
“We’ll need…” Isabel sounded half-asleep, but was apparently waking quickly. “Transport up. Gina can’t fly, I don’t have wings, I…”
“We can tell,” said another pony voice. A female, high and squeaky. But all these ponies were a little like that. “Outrigger is on its way down. Just stay there and don’t give us a reason to shoot you.”
The little boat touched down a few moments later, landing in the clearing beside their now-dead fire. The bats led them aboard, pointing weapons the whole way. Gina had apparently gotten worse during the night, because her limbs were so stiff they barely worked. At least she managed not to provoke the ponies to shoot her.
Then up they went, as the tiny airship lifted towards something far larger high above, something made from dark metal and with the obvious outlines of guns bristling along its edges. Its outline was strange to her, though she could tell at a glance it was at least the equal to a destroyer. Unity the whole thing is made of metal. How do they keep it in the sky?
Their captors seemed to see her staring. “Hold still,” ordered a gruff voice. “You’re going to be blindfolded. Do not resist.”
“They’re blind enough already,” said a tiny voice from the other side of the boat. “You know how griffons are in the dark.”
“How everypony is,” added someone else.
“Orders are orders,” said the first voice. “You’re going straight to the captain. Accipio has a lot to answer for.”
“That’s perfect,” Gina said, without hesitation. “Because your captain is exactly the one we want to see. We need his help—both our nations might depend on it.”