//------------------------------// // Chapter 21 // Story: The Dusk Guard Saga: Hunter/Hunted // by Viking ZX //------------------------------// The sky was a perfect, crystal-clear blue, better than almost any sky Hunter could remember. There wasn’t a cloud in sight, the sun was beaming, wind whipping through his mane, and best of all, he wasn’t flying solo. He glanced over at his side, where Thistle glided along steadily on a thermal, her wide wings beating only once to every two beats of his own. She caught his eyes and smiled at him. It was a soft, quiet smile, but it was perfect. Beneath them, Equestria stretched out like a living tapestry. Off to their left, Canterlot sparkled in the sun, its gold and marble towers gleaming against the verdant green of the Canter. Behind them, Cloudsdale drifted on the winds, bobbing up and down in the high-altitude jetstreams. Beneath them, smaller cousins of those same winds sent rippling waves across thousands of acres of farmland, rustling through wheat, corn, and dozens of other crops he couldn’t even identify. It felt good to stretch his wings. And to be warm again, after their last mission. Something to do with … cold? The memory felt strangely distant, and he shoved it aside. At the moment, it didn’t matter. He was flying, high in a sunny sky, and Thistle was flying with him. What else mattered? Ahead the Everfree Forest loomed, flanked by the small town of Ponyville. He could even see the old Ranger station he’d been assigned to poking above thick forest canopy. That was right, he and Thistle were flying there so he could show her the place. Why? He ignored the faint, lingering question as Thistle gave him another smile. Ponyville was beneath them, though it didn’t seem like they were flying that fast. They banked as one, never speaking, just enjoying the sensation of flight and one another’s company as they swept over the treetops. The Ranger station loomed ahead of them, wooden deck just the way he remembered it, right down to the deck chair he’d had. I guess the new guy didn’t change much. He flared his wings, sapping his speed as he came in to land. His hooves let out hollow thunks against the wood as he landed atop the deck, and he spun, smiling as Thistle landed in front of him. “Well,” he said, spreading his wings as his voice echoed faintly back at him. “This is it. The Ranger station of Everfree. Lived here for a few years.” “After Swift died, right?” Thistle’s sudden statement caught him off-guard, and he flinched slightly before nodding. “Yeah. I kind of needed to get away for awhile. And, well, this is pretty out of the way.” Thistle nodded in turn, folding her wings to her sides as she took a few steps forward, looking through one of the large windows at the interior of the tower. An interior, Hunter noted, that looked a lot like he’d left it. “That’s actually kind of why I wanted to come see it,” Thistle said, still looking through the window. Then she turned, and something cold crawled down his spine. Her expression had changed. It was … hard, somehow. “After all, you’re about to be here again.” “What?” Thistle gave him a sad smile, though there was still that same harshness to it. “That’s why I wanted to come here. To tell you, Hunter, that you belong back here.” “I don’t …” He took a step back, gobsmacked. “What are—?” “Swift died because of you, Hunter,” Thistle said, taking a step forward, the sad smile dropping off her face. Her words felt like a spear stabbing at his chest. Even her coat seemed darker, the light periwinkle shifting shades. “She died.” “I … I …” The words wouldn’t come. He took another step back, and then another as Thistle continued forward, still speaking. “I didn’t …” “You were supposed to be there, Hunter,” she said, her eyes glaring at him as he continued to back up. The wooden deck began to creak beneath his armored hooves, the structure swaying in the wind, the wood soft and rotten. “You weren’t!” “I … I tried!” He kept backing up as thin wisps of black smoke began to slide out of the corners of Thistle’s eyes, her teeth lengthening into points. “Not hard enough,” she said, her voice shifting and sliding, echoing all around him and making the platform tremble. His rear hooves slipped against an edge, rotted wood giving way, and he jerked, trying to keep his balance. “Will you try just as hard for me? When something you do gets me killed?” The sky had gone dark, the black smoke leaking from her eyes swelling to cover the horizon. Around them the forest had come to life, branches whipping and lashing in a sudden storm of wind. “I …” The words wouldn’t come, no matter how hard he tried. He couldn’t speak. Thistle however, her coat now having shifted from periwinkle to purple to a shade so dark it was almost black, had no such problems. “So I’m getting out of your life before you let someone else die.” The deck gave way beneath his hooves, and he fell, wooden branches lashing against his legs and sides as he tumbled down, trying, fighting to say something, anything as Thistle began to spread her wings and fly away, anything at all as the branches wrapped around him, squeezing him, tightening around his wings until the bones cracked— “No!” Hunter sat straight as the word exploded out of his chest, pulse pounding as he looked in all directions wildly, trying to make sense of— The cabin. The lights were low, the windows dark, but there was no mistaking it. He was sitting on his bunk, wings outspread, still wearing his armor, his helmet sitting next to the pillow. Slowly his breath began to come at a more regular pace. It was a bad dream, he thought, staring down at his hooves in the dim light and letting out a sigh of relief. Even then, the sense of panic didn’t quite seem to leave. It was just a bad dream. “Nightmare?” He jumped as the voice echoed out of the near-darkness, jerking as his eyes fixed on Nova, who was lying on his own bunk. He nodded. “Yeah. Bad one.” Nova nodded. He was wearing his whole armor, helmet included. “Yeah. Me too. Put on your helmet.” “What?” “Put on your helmet.” “All right.” Pulse still thumping, he reached out and picked up his helmet, sliding it down over his head. The faint feeling of panic faded almost immediately. “What—?” “It went away, didn’t it?” Nova asked. Hunter nodded. “I thought so.” “What do you mean?” Hunter asked, pushing himself up a little further. Now that his eyes had adjusted, he could make out the clock and see that it was only a half-hour before he’d planned to be up anyway. No wonder I still feel tired. “I had the same thing,” Nova said quietly. “Nightmare. Pretty bad one. Woke up the same way, just a few minutes ago, minus the yell. Threw my helmet on and the panic went away.” “Wait.” His head felt clearer now that he had been awake for a few moments. “You’re saying the fear—?” “Sombra,” Nova said with a nod. “It’s faint, but it’s there. Same thing he was using on the yeti last night. I was about to wake you up when …” He waved a hoof. “The helmet is like the armor: blocks the magic.” “Resists it, you mean,” Hunter said. Then he sat up straight. “What about Sky Bolt?” His eyes darted to the cockpit hatch. “She sleeps with her helmet on,” Nova said. “She’s probably fine.” “Better to check.” He slid out of his bunk, hooves hitting the deck with faint muffled thumps, and trotted to the cockpit door. It opened without a sound, revealing a snoring Sky Bolt slumped back in the pilot’s seat. As Nova had said, she was wearing her helmet. The Hummingbird rattled as another gust of wind rolled over it, jostling the mare, but she didn’t wake up. Guess she can tell the difference between something normal shaking and something going wrong, he thought as he closed the door. Nova was still sitting back on his bunk. “So … back to sleep?” “No,” Nova said, shaking his head. “Not after that nightmare.” “Must have been a bad one.” “Do you feel like sleeping?” “Fair point,” Hunter said, stepping back across the cabin. “No. Breakfast?” He moved toward the galley, but then stopped. “Wait. I can take my helmet off and put it back on, right?” “You’ll feel it,” Nova replied. “But yeah.” “Good. I’m hungry.” And there should still be some fresh apples in the icebox. “You want anything?” “Not yet. Maybe in a bit. Dream’s still pretty fresh.” “Do you … want to talk about it?” “No.” The answer was clipped and quick. “Fair enough,” Hunter said, grabbing a second apple to go with the first. “I guess I don’t really feel like talking about mine either.” A shiver ran down his spine as Thistle’s warped face slipped across his mind. At all. “Here,” he said, tossing the second apple to Nova as he shut the icebox door. Nova caught it in a blue glow. “For when you feel up to eating something.” “Thanks.” “No worries.” He trotted over to the central table and took a seat, staring out the window while pulling his helmet off. The sense of fear returned as soon as the crystal left his head, but braced for it, it wasn’t that bad. He set the helmet aside and reached for the apple. “So …” he said after a few bites had vanished. “He’s getting stronger then.” “That, or he’s specifically targeting us,” Nova replied. “But he didn’t do that before, so I’d have to agree either way.” “That’s not good.” “No.” Nova shook his head. “It isn’t. Any ideas?” “You’re the magic-user.” “Yeah,” Nova said, a hint of humor entering his voice. “But you’re the lieutenant. So it’s your job to come up with plans.” “Fair point.” The apple let out another faint crunch as he took another bite. “Private Beam? Tell me what you think we can do to counteract King Sombra’s magic growth. I need to know what my subordinates know so I can formulate a plan.” “Ouch.” Nova shifted, sitting up further as the airship rattled under another gust of wind, propellers briefly jumping in tone. “Fair enough. Honestly? Short of fighting him to a standstill, the best I think we can do is keep him running?” “You don’t sound sure,” Hunter said between bites. “How can I be?” Nova asked, throwing his hooves up. “All I know is that he’s a ‘shade’ and that he’s regaining his magical power. We both guessed that being in the crystal is helping him judging by the way he’s soaking up nearby magic, but …” He paused. “You do know how magic works with our bodies, right?” “Eh.” Hunter waggled a wing. “Run it by me again?” “Right, well, I’m not the best on this, but magic exhaustion, right? Say a pony somehow manages to get completely exhausted without burning out.” “Like you did that one time?” “I came close,” Nova said with a nod. “But I passed out since I wasn’t used to using so much. Say I’d stayed alert, and used all my magic. Or something stole it.” “Okay.” “So I’d be completely without magic,” Nova continued. “Since our bodies rely on magic, there’d be adverse effects everywhere. Shortness of breath, stuff like that. But our bodies also make magic, so the moment, the instant the drain stopped, we’d start getting better. It could take a few weeks, but we’d be back to normal. With me so far?” Another bite. “Yeah.” “Okay. But the thing is, as much as our bodies metabolize magic out of what we eat—ask Dawn, not me—there’s magic all around us too. It’s everywhere. A lot of spells unicorns cast rely on working with it. Same with weather magic and pegasi, earth ponies and plants … you get the idea. It’s like … that little bit of static you get sometimes.” “Gotcha. Good analogy.” “Thanks.” Nova perked slightly. “Anyway, when you’re magic-starved, your body will try and soak up that energy too.” “To bring it back to neutral,” Hunter said, nodding. “Sure. That works. Anyway, while it’s not great at it, being around high-magic usage or magic-intense areas has been suggested in cases of exhaustion. Saturation-theory.” “Theory? No one’s ever tested it?” “Exhaustion is usually pretty rare,” Nova said with a shrug. “Anyway, when you’re exhausted, you’re supposed to get a lot of rest so that your body can regenerate. So … running? He doesn’t have a body, but the same rule might apply.” “Basically, what we were planning to do already.” “Not quite.” Hunter paused. “What?” “We’re dropping a tree on him, then he’s running,” Nova said. His grin stretched to his eyes. “Since you wanted to be all specific, sir.” “I … Right, you got me there.” Hunter eyed the core of his apple before crunching it down. It didn’t taste quite as good as the rest of the apple, but it wouldn’t hurt him, and it didn’t make sense to waste it. “Wish we had more to go off of, though, aside from ‘keep him from the Crystal Empire.” Nova nodded. “And then he’s heading the opposite way anyway.” “Maybe he’s lost,” Hunter said, snorting. “It’d sure make our jobs a little easier.” “And too convenient,” Nova added. “Can you imagine presenting that after-action report to the Princesses?” Hunter let out a quick laugh as he shoved his helmet back down over his head. The faint unease clawing at the back of his mind faded. “Why yes, Princess Celestia, it actually was pretty easy. See, the guy was lost …” Nova let out a short laugh of his own. “So much for the elite Dusk Guard. Turns out all that needed to happen was for the guy to get out and wander into the Ocean.” Hunter’s mirth faded. “Right.” The Ocean. “I hope he doesn’t do that.” And not just because we can’t follow. Who knew what sort of damage a shade could cause up there? And things are already bad enough. He’d kept his ears close to the ground, picking over reports from Northgait after Blade had blasted through it. A lot of the information was sketchy at best, much of it coming from dust traffickers at the border looking to sell a little information or gossip on the side, but none of it was good. It wasn’t for no reason that the “country” was off-limits. Small brush-fire or not, a war was a war. Pirate-kings, unicorn supremacy cults, griffons … the place was a mess. “Oh, right.” Nova went silent. The Hummingbird rattled again, swaying slightly, and Hunter caught a faint flicker outside the windows. A reflection of lightning in the glass. We must be facing east, he thought as the airship rocked up and down slightly in the wake of another gust. I wonder if that’s just for ease, or if it’s because of the wind at this altitude, or— “How do you think the captain and the rest of the team are doing?” Nova asked, interrupting his thoughts. Hunter shook his head, dragging his mind back to the unicorn. “Sorry, what?” he asked before he could catch himself. “Captain Song?” “And the rest of the team,” Nova said again. “In the city.” “I …” He shrugged. “Hopefully nothing crook. Steel’s a good commander, and he knows what he’s doing. Dawn’s a good doctor, and Sabra … Well, let’s just say the Royal and Night Guard will be glad he’s getting a chance to bludgeon somepony else into submission. I wouldn’t be surprised if we saw their signal sometime today. I mean, storms, Captain Armor will probably show up and find Steel sitting by the throne wondering what kept him.” The sky outside the windows was finally starting to light up, even if ever so faintly, which meant that it would soon be dawn. Which also meant they’d need to get moving soon. Sky Bolt will be waking up any minute now, if she isn’t awake already just to check the status of the ship. He rose again, stepping over to the galley. Halfway there, his stomach let out another pang, letting him know that it wasn’t quite satisfied with his offering thus far. “You’d better eat,” he said, nodding in Nova’s direction as the pitch of The Hummingbird’s propellers changed. Bolt was definitely awake. “We’ve got a long day ahead of us. You get to try your hoof at being a lumberjack.” “Actually, about that,” Nova said, rising from his bunk and moving to the table. His magic, Hunter noted, had switched from night to day, its color now a soft yellow. “I know we liked the idea, but do we have an actual plan?” “Yeah, we do,” Hunter said, rooting through the galley before finding something quick and easy to warm up on the stove. “Bolt said she had cutcord, so one of us will need to sneak into the yeti camp and wire that up properly. Two cuts: one on the side we want the tree to fall in, wedge-shaped, and a second on the other.” “Sneaking,” Nova said, nodding. “So … me?” “Pretty much,” Hunter replied. “Especially since the other job is going to be to tie a rope around the top of the tree and then pull it in the direction we want the tree to go, just as a help to the wedge. From the air.” “Right. So unless I can fly—” “I’ve heard there are spells for that.” “—and since Bolt needs to fly The Hummingbird, that means it’s me.” “Pretty much. It’s not too hard, though. I’ll walk you through the two cuts.” “Plus, you have an advantage.” Sky Bolt’s voice cut across the cabin as she stepped through the doorway to the cockpit. Hunter hadn’t even heard it open. “You can activate the cutcord with magic.” “Spot on,” Hunter said, nodding. He looked at Bolt. “How’d you sleep?” “Aside from waking up every twenty minutes to check on my baby, I slept pretty well,” Bolt said, sitting down at the table with a yawn. “And how’d she do?” Nova asked. Sky Bolt perked up, ears twisting. “Really good! She actually held her position better than I thought she would. I had to make some occasional adjustments, but for the most part, she’s riding the storm pretty well.” “Did you have any nightmares?” Hunter asked. Sky Bolt looked over at him in surprise. “No …” she said, drawing the word out. “Should I have?” “Did you wear your helmet all night?” She nodded. “Do that then, and you won’t.” “Sombra,” Nova added. “He was using emotion magic.” A shudder ran through Bolt. “One of you …?” “Both of us,” Hunter answered. “Just trust us, leave your helmet on when you sleep.” “Granted,” Nova said, stepping into the galley and sweeping a collection of utensils and plates out with his magic, as well as adding several more items to the side of the heated stove. “If we take out that crystal, the fear thing might go away. It could be amplifying his powers.” “Wait, like one of my mods?” “More like a battery,” Nova said, turning and floating the plates and utensils over to the table. “Only not even that. More like …” He paused for a moment. “Like a whirlpool in water. It sucks up everything near it and lets him use more than he has, but the moment we break it, all that goes away. That’s why it’s drawing magic to him.” “I mean,” he continued. The first slice of breakfast hit their small griddle with a hot sizzle. “The guy is over a thousand years behind the times. The batteries the Tam sisters came up with were pretty new, your mods even newer. So a soak of some kind makes more sense. Especially if he was working around whatever group-magic the crystal ponies could do.” “I wish I’d been able to see more of their city,” Bolt said. “A whole city made out of crystal? How do they heat it? Does it have to do with the layout of the streets? Are they magic conductors? The place looks like it was made to do it!” She let out a sigh and sank back. “So many questions.” “As soon as we’ve saved the place, I’m sure whoever’s in charge won’t mind,” Hunter said, flipping one of the slices. “Plus, you’ll have earned a leave. Crud, all of us will have.” He glanced at their stores, then tossed a fourth slice on the griddle. “Anyone else want two?” “One’s fine,” Bolt said. “I’ll take two,” Nova said quickly. Hunter tossed another slice onto the grill, watching as the pressed collection of vegetables fried. “So then … Cutcord. What do I have to do?” “It’s pretty simple,” Bolt said. “Wrap it around what you want to cut and touch it off. It just takes a spark of energy to get the bonds to unwind, and then it goes, and fast. Don’t be holding it when it happens.” “Do I have to hold it to the tree?” “Not this stuff. You can peel the outer layer back to reveal a sticky underlayer for attaching it to stuff. Once it goes, it goes, though, so I’ll set you up with a couple of pre-cut lengths so you won’t have to worry about that.” “Actually, you’ll want to do a little cutting on your own,” Hunter cut in, glancing at the pair. “Not on the cord, but to the tree. Bark on these pines is thick, and it’d just slough off if you tried to cut it. The cord will need to be on the wood.” “Okay. So remove the bark. Make a crescent wedge on the side facing the crystal.” “Probably closer to a half-circle than a crescent,” Hunter added. “And with some horizontal overlap, just to make sure the wedge cuts. I’ll sketch it out for you.” “Crisscross,” Bolt cut in, shaking her head. “That’ll make the wedge more likely to collapse. I’ll do some math so you have roughly the right length. Any extra could just wrap back over it.” “This is sounding more complicated by the minute,” Nova said, his gaze jumping between both of them. “Just to cut down a tree? Can’t we use explosives?” “Cutcord is kind of explosive,” Bolt said. “Sort of. Don’t be too close when it goes off.” “Plus, do you want to use magic to slice the tree down?” Hunter added in. “It’s more energy than you might think.” He turned back, nose itching. One of the slices was a little close to being burnt, and he flipped it off of the griddle and onto a waiting plate. “No, I get it,” Nova said, voice slightly irate. “I just didn’t expect this level of complexity. I can handle it.” “Well, one of us could always—” “Hunter.” Nova’s voice was firm, but not harsh. “I can handle it. Peel off the bark, attach the cord with an adhesive side in a prescribed pattern, get back, then touch it off. Not the most complex thing I’ll have ever done.” “Well … Good.” He flipped another slice off of the griddle and onto the plate, then a third. “Well, if you say you’ve got it, then you’ve got it.” The final slices landed atop the pile, and he shut the griddle off. “So I’ll tie the rope on the top while you’re applying the cord. Once you see the rope go tight, that’ll mean I’m in position to pull the top over and you can set off the cord. Wedge first, then the second side, which will be one cut. The wedge pieces should pop out, the weakened bit on the other side should snap, and …” He dropped the plate to the table with a ring. “Bam. Down it goes. Right on top of the crystal.” He glanced at the window once more as Nova and Bolt both took their slices from his plate. The sun was definitely rising, though the thick storm clouds overhead still made it hard to tell how far up it really was. A light dusting of snow seemed to be coming down, though it was hard to tell as violent as the wind was. Nova and Bolt both shuddered as they pulled their helmets off. Still that fear, he thought as he pulled his own off. A sense of unease settled over him almost immediately. “That’s creepy,” Bolt said, shivering. “I know what it is, but I can still feel it.” “Yeah, well, let’s eat fast,” Nova said, speaking through bites. “And see if we can make him feel something in return.” Breakfast passed quickly, each of them wolfing down their fried slices as quickly as they could before shoving their helmets back into place. Bolt went back to the cockpit, first to check their heading, then to work out how much cutcord to give Nova. Hunter, meanwhile, double-checked his gear. His saddlebags were heavier than they had been the day before, just on the odd chance that things got worse. Worse than they already were, anyway. The snowfall had thickened in just the short time they’d taken to eat breakfast, shifting from a light dust to thick, heavy flakes that reduced visibility and made the low light even less-illuminating. That’ll make tracking this thing harder, Hunter thought as he cinched his saddlebags into place, checking the buckles and straps to make sure they were lying cleanly against the side of his armor, with minimal slippage. And no noise, he thought as one of the buckle ends pinged against the side of his armor. He carefully threaded it back through itself until it was locked tight. Across the cabin, Nova was doing the same with a pouch attached to his chest for the cutcord. Drop a tree and then … He looked out the window once more, watching as the falling snow continued to thicken. This might make it hard to spot the signal from the city, too. One more thing to worry about. Feathers, if it gets thick enough, just keeping an eye on one another or The Hummingbird could get stroppy. He’d been in storms like it before, where the snows were so thick that it became difficult to tell north from south, much less find something that was a bare hundred feet away. The swirling snows and wind could make navigation all but impossible. Then again, we’ve got our beacons. Outside the glass, the snows continued to swirl and dart around the airship, twisting and seething in their own currents. In fact … He glanced down at his own equipment, then moved toward the cockpit. “Hey, Bolt?” “Yeah?” Sky Bolt was sitting at the controls once more, though the bunk beside her showed a pile of saddlebags and gear he had no doubt was there just in case of emergencies. It was strapped down, too. Another precaution. “You see how thick this is getting?” He waved a hoof toward the snows outside the cockpit. Beneath them, he could see the side of the mountain, along with the copse of trees their quarry had taken shelter in, but it was far from an ideal view. “Yeah,” Bolt said, nodding. “It’s going to make keeping an eye on this guy hard. Spotlights are right out. An airship could come within a mile of us and we likely wouldn’t even know.” “Right,” he said, dropping to his haunches, the weight in his saddlebags shifting slightly. It meant something was out of place. Something he’d need to fix. “Well, I just had a thought, and you’d be the one to dob in on it.” “Whatcha got?” Bolt asked, her eyes still on the controls. “The beacons we have,” he said, tapping his saddlebags with one hoof. “The emergency ones that a unicorn can home in on?” “Yeah?” “Well, with everything you’ve been doing to replicate spells with your mods, is there a way you could replicate that?” Bolt paused for a moment, hooves frozen in place above the controls. Then she turned, eyes wide beneath her visor, wings spreading. “Like a signal from each team-member that the suits could pick up?” “Actually, I was thinking more for The Hummingbird,” he said quickly. “So we could know where it was in conditions like this.” Bolt’s eyes widened further, and she sat back, one hoof tapping against the side of her seat. “That could work. It’d be useful for more than The Hummingbird too. Airships use lights to mark their positions and communicate with one another, but a magical signal would work as well, especially if there was a power source. It couldn’t run all the time of course, and the battery would take up a bit of weight, especially if it was reusable, but for adverse conditions, if they sent out a pulse every few minutes … Picking it up would be another issue, unless there was a unicorn on board—fine for our airships, but less for something from one of the other kingdoms, and …” She trailed off, her eyes fixing on him as if seeing him for the first time in minutes. “Right,” she said, pulling her wings in and composing herself. “Good idea! I’ll think about it later. Right now though, if I lose track of you two, I’ll try getting a little higher and flashing the lights in regular patterns.” “Don’t forget,” Hunter said, twisting as he opened the saddlebag that had shifted and finding the offending item. “Nova will at least be able to track a beacon. You can set one of them off up here, and he’ll feel it.” “So could Sombra,” Bolt pointed out. “But yeah, he could. Just …” She hung for a second over the controls before turning to look at him. “Don’t get lost, all right?” “Me?” He shook his head. “Worse comes to worse, I’ll just try to fly back to the city. I’m more worried about losing track of one another out here and letting Sombra slip through our hooves.” Bolt nodded, and he could tell by her eyes that she was frowning behind her helmet. “Not being able to communicate is part of the problem. Trust me, I’ve been working on that one. There’s some research coming out of the Burning Lands, but—” He could sense the runaway conversation ramping up once more. “Bolt.” At the sound of her name, she turned back toward him, her words ceasing as quickly as if she’d flipped a switch. “Another time, all right? The equipment you’ve built for us is amazing. So we’ve found a few wrinkles. Steel ever tell you about battle plans?” She shook her head. “I don’t think so?” He shrugged. “It’s one of his platitudes. ‘No plan survives contact with the enemy.’ Well, not his. Just about everypony uses it. Everybeing too. Point being, you’re never prepared enough. And if you think you are, well … Something will happen that neither side expected.” “The only consolation,” he continued, “is that the same is true for the other side.” He leaned forward, peering out the window through the thick snows at the small, clustered forest beneath them. “In any case, you should start bringing us down. Does the west side of the trees work?” “It’ll be pretty bumpy, but yeah.” Bolt pointed. “See those swirls?” “I see ‘em,” he said, eyes locking on the twisting snow patterns. “Crosscurrents. Tough to fly through.” “Try being an airship,” Bolt said, adjusting the controls. Outside, the whine of the propellers changed, picking up as the airship began to move at last. “We’re going to get spun pretty good. I’ll get you as close as I can, but when I say you need to go …” “No, I get it. Just do what you can, then watch for a tree coming down.” He turned, peering through the open hatch to the main cabin. “Nova? You ready?” “I’m ready,” Nova said, still checking the straps on his saddlebags. “Just triple-checking everything. You’ve got the rope, right?” Hunter nodded. The thick coil was strapped in place atop his hindquarters, squarely between his saddlebags. “Right here. I’ll pull, you push.” “We airlifting or am I climbing?” Hunter glanced at Bolt, eyeing her as he replied. “Definitely airlifting,” he said. “Let’s not leave Bolt to deal with the ropes.” Or worry about them getting sucked into a propeller. Weighted or not, the wind out there looks pretty rough. In fact … “Bolt? What’s the wind-speed out there anyway?” “Well, it’s not easy to say since I can’t really get a good read on our own speed,” she answered, flapping her wings slightly as The Hummingbird began to drop. “But we’re not moving that fast, so based off of the gauge? About seventy knots, gusting.” “Knots?” Nova asked, trotting up to the hatch. “Nautical miles,” Hunter replied almost automatically. “And no, I don’t know who decided to use that term for wind-speed, or why, when it has the word ‘nautical’ in it.” “That’s a lot of wind.” “You’re telling me,” Bolt said, both hooves wrapped around the controls. They were shaking in her hooves, and not because she was. “I’ll get you two as close to the—” The ship jerked to one side, Hunter popping his wings out as he stumbled. Nova let out a curse as he tumbled partway to the deck. The ship jerked back in the other direction a second later, though this time his weight was spread, and he moved with it. “There’s the first crosswind,” Bolt said, a deep vibration underscoring her words. “You’re still about a hundred and twenty feet up, but I’d recommend making the jump now. That good?” “It’ll have to do, no matter how crook this weather is.” The snowfall was thick enough that he still couldn’t see the ground. Or maybe he could; it was hard to tell with white-on-white. “Nova?” “Got it!” The unicorn turned and bolted for the rear of the airship, almost stumbling when it shook beneath them again. The roar of the propellers picked up as they made their way down the hall, fighting the heavy winds, and the ship shook again. “All right!” Hunter called as the hatch opened to the howling winds. Snowflakes swept into the entryway alongside a biting cold that seemed to cut right through his armor. “You know the drill!” “I know!” Nova said, sitting in the open hatchway, the wind sweeping around him. “Let’s go!” “Right!” He wrapped his forelegs around Nova’s chest. “Three … Two … One … Drop!” For the second time in as many days, they tumbled out of the side of The Hummingbird. The crosswinds caught them almost immediately, throwing them to the side and into a brutal spin. Hunter narrowed his eyes to slits, counting in his head as they rolled again and again, wind pulling at them from all angles even with his pegasus magic doing its best to keep things straight. Through his clenched eyes, he saw Nova’s horn start to light. “No shield!” he yelled as loud as he could manage! “Sail!” The yellow glow winked out, Nova getting the message. The treetops were coming up fast, and they were still spinning. He risked folding part of one wing out, the winds tearing at his feathers as he used it to slow their spin. Winds are backing off. Stabilizing. The ground was getting close fast. They’d already passed the tops of some of the tallest trees. There! He extended his other wing, both now half-way unfolded, controlling their descent with the bare tips. Too close, he thought as a pine branch whipped past, needles almost close enough to touch his armor. More to the side. He could definitely make out the ground now, rising up at them like an icy wall. They were drifting south, though, away from the trees and toward the thin lip of the mountain before it became a climb. Halfway there … now! He pressed his wings further out, green lines lighting up along his suit as his pegasus magic went into full swing. His forelegs groaned in protest as Nova’s weight suddenly doubled, then tripled. Less than fifty feet to go. Forty. Thirty. Twenty. He extended his wings to their full length, and Nova’s weight, as well as the pull of the ground beneath him, trebled once more a brief instant before settling down to something far more reasonable. The world around him twisted, vertical and horizontal aligning once more as the tight turn put them into a level flight out over the mountainside. He twisted, his magic feeling at the air ahead of him and warning of the sudden increase in airspeed past the drop, then circled back. “Right,” he said as the trees loomed. “Dropping.” He unwrapped his aching forelegs, Nova falling down to the snow in a silent landing. Hunter tucked his wings in and followed a moment later, sinking to his chest in the snowpack. “Well,” he said, looking at Nova. “That wasn’t so bad, was it? Although …” He sat back and flexed his forelegs a few times. “Might have been smarter to use a harness.” “Or just teleport,” Nova said, shaking his head and swaying from one side to the other. “Less dizziness.” “How’s that coming anyway?” “You’ve read the reports,” Nova said, still swaying but getting steadier by the moment. “Yeah, but I’ve not actually asked.” “I teleport about as well as I’m standing right now.” “So you can.” “Yeah,” Nova said, shaking his head again. “But some of the important things don’t quite come out straight. Like down right now.” “So … what? Missing limbs? I didn’t see that in the reports.” “No, nothing that bad. But definitely check the report for words like ‘velocity’ or ‘destination.’” “Oh. Okay. Gotcha.” I guess that explains that one note about the water in the … Well, yeah. “You almost ready?” Above them, The Hummingbird had moved off, its engines a faint roar beneath the wind and the envelope only partly visible. “About,” Nova said, shaking his head again and taking a few tentative steps. “Did you forget your snowshoes?” “They’re in my saddlebags,” Hunter said. “I’ll fight the wind for the time being, since I’ll be flying around a tree anyway.” If anything, I should have brought claws, but … “I take it you’re good to go?” Nova nodded. “Breakfast isn’t coming up anytime soon.” “Good,” Hunter replied. “Let’s move.” They stayed silent as they moved through the trees, Nova moving step by step, Hunter floating just above the snow. Beneath the trees the snowfall wasn’t as bad, though flakes still drifted down from above, somehow making it through the branches and swirling around them in the mountain winds. There. The first buried half-sphere of a yeti shelter loomed ahead, and Hunter nodded at Nova before pointing with one wing. Nova returned the nod, and they both gave the shelter a wide berth, as they did the next few. Closer, Hunter thought as they moved deeper into the forest. Now we just need to find the right tree. The clearing was ahead of them, and once again a glance at Nova brought a faint nod and signal that there was magic around. There. It was a large, tall pine a few dozen feet from the edge of the clearing, but with nothing between it and the edge. The trunk looked to be about as thick as a pony was long, and when he ran his eyes up, it seemed to be about as tall as the rest of its fellows. And, by some chance, there weren’t many lower branches. Which is probably why there’s no shelter at its base. Nothing to make one with, Hunter thought as he signaled to Nova and pointed out the tree. Nova gave a motion of affirmation, angling his way toward it. Now just to find a good possie opposite to do the pulling, Hunter thought as he and Nova moved up to the base. Something that’ll bring this baby down right atop … He paused. The crystal had grown. Where the night before it had merely been a single smoke of black upon the snow, rising up only to about the width of a single hoof, now he could quite clearly see its peak at eye level, the base almost as thick around as his own middle. He and Nova glanced at one another. Big. Nova signed with his hooves and head. Good? Hunter signaled back, tapping a hoof against the bark of the tree. Nova nodded and pointed with one foreleg before drawing a line in the snow. A line that led right to the crystal. Good, Hunter thought with a nod, pointing to the trees across the clearing and then up at the peak of the pine. We’ll bring it down spot on! Nova went to work with a nod of his own, quietly pulling his snowshoes off and using his hooves to batter at the bark. Hunter waited for a moment, ears swiveling, and then took wing, flying straight up the side of the pine. Good tree, he thought as he rose into the sky, partially sheltered from the wind by its bulk. Nice and straight. Probably good wood for building. If it wasn’t in the middle of nowhere. He slowed, weaving his way through branches as beside him the trunk grew thinner and thinner. He was getting close to the top now, more and more snowflakes swirling in the wake of each wingbeat. That’s good enough, he thought, his eyes fixing on an icy-but-wide branch. It would give him something to brace against beside his wings while wrapping the rope around the trunk. Here goes. It was delicate, almost frustrating work, alleviated only by the fact that he could wedge one part of the line into the gap between his armor and his undersuit whenever he needed both hooves free. Even so, progress was slow and tedious. The coil of rope on his back he left mostly strapped in, pulling out what he needed when he needed it, but getting the length around the trunk and tied took him longer than he expected. And more than once a gust of wind made one of his rear hooves slip from the trunk, causing him to lose his balance and drop what little progress he’d made. Finally, however, the rope was secure with a double loop and sturdy knot, and he backed away before carefully turning—Don’t catch the rope in your wing!—and flying across the clearing. Or rather, around it. No way I’m flying over that spire, Hunter thought. Even this high up. Through the snow it looked like some sort of angry, dark spike, pulsing against the sky as if accusing it of some crime. Or getting ready to strike at it. A shiver worked its way across his coat beneath his armor, and he scowled. Wonky emotion magic. Clearing rounded, he could see Nova now at work at the trunk of the tree. The snow around him was dark with bits of removed bark, and the bare wood he’d uncovered stood out like a gaping wound. He was already at work attaching the cutcord Bolt had given him, carefully pressing the thin, incendiary wire into place. Onya Nova, Hunter thought, eyes moving to the line at the trunk’s base and moving across the clearing, past the spire of crystal that was its target, and into the treeline on the far side. Let’s see … That one will do. He looped around the top of the tree, settling in the branches and giving the line a nice tug. It went tight with nothing between it and the knot on the other side of the clearing. So I’ll drop off of these branches and get clear while the tree comes down. He unwound what was left of the coil, letting it dangle beneath him. Now it’s just down to Nova. From the look of it, the unicorn was almost done. As Hunter watched, Nova moved around to the back of the trees, pulling more cutcord from his pouch before vanishing from sight. Any minute now … He could already see it in his mind. The cutcord would shred the tree’s trunk, he would pull … And with a lot of broken branches, Sombra’s refuge would end up in pieces. And then … We go on the hunt again. Snow’s getting thicker, Hunter thought as he waited, watching the flakes dance through the air. That storm’s messed up everything for miles. Snow meant less visibility. Avalanche risk as well. Just more things to watch out for. Nova came back into view again and held up a hoof, tapping it against his chest. He was ready. Hunter repeated the gesture, wrapping the rope around both hooves, leaning out over the branch until he was putting his full weight on the line. Okay, Nova, he thought, body hanging out over the air. Now just how long is it going to take to—? The world lit up, a sudden, screeching hiss that sounded like ice skittering off a hot griddle filling the air. The rope in his hooves slipped, dropping him several feet before growing tight again. A sharp series of deep cracks split the air in the wake of the hiss, the line twitching with each one. Howls erupted all around him, and he glanced down to see dozens of thick, furry arms burst through their protective domes, maddened yeti clawing their way to the surface in response to the intrusion. That’s half of it, Nova, Hunter thought, twisting and craning his neck to look across the clearing. Now for the— A second bright flash made him squint even as his visor tinted, turning his head, and again the same hot hiss echoed across the clearing. This time, however, the cracks came much more quickly and in greater volume … And then he was dropping, falling down through the air as the tree began to tip across the clearing, falling right toward the crystal spire amid howls of panic from the yeti. Tim-ber! Hunter thought as he continued to drop in time with the tree. You’re gonna get it now, you dumb— The rope wrapped around his hooves bit tight, and in a flash, he recognized his mistake. “Oh feathers.” The tree had passed the apex of its fall, the tip now well below the initial azimuth of where the guide rope had threaded around the treetops. He twisted his foreleg, flipping a coil of line past his hoof … And then with a jerk so hard he felt like his teeth had plunged into his stomach, his downward fall became an upward flight, the weight of the falling tree rocketing him skyward. Instinct took over. He snapped his wings out, angling them to the side and throwing himself out and away from the tree the rope had looped around. If I hit that … As good as Bolt’s armor was, the rope would literally twist his foreleg between the might of two trees, grinding it around one as it pulled him down. The shift in direction amplified his speed as he turned his straight-lined ascent into a sharp, outward swing with barely any control. Branches whipped across his body, needles and wood scraping across his body and drawing sharp, burning stings from his wings. The tree hit the ground with a heavy whump that seemed to shake the forest around him, and the line went slack. He didn’t hesitate, twisting his foreleg and slipping it free of the once-tight coils. Even without the force of the rope yanking him skyward, he kept ascending, tucking his wings tightly against his sides as his momentum bled— His backside slammed into a branch, flipping him end over end but thankfully killing most of his runaway upward momentum. Hunter kept his wings folded as he crashed through more branches, and then with a bone-jarring thud he slammed into another trunk and stopped, hanging for just long enough to get his bearings before dropping to thick pile of branches beneath it. Ow. He shook his head, shoving away the sudden spinning sensation. I really hope no one saw that. Next time let go of the rope before you find out how much heavier a tree is. He shook his head again, listening to the howls that echoed all around him. Nova! Did he get out? Did it work? He spread his wings—ignoring a twinge of pain from the feathers along his right wing; there’d be a time for preening later—and took to the sky, weaving through the treetops back toward the clearing. Not that it was very clear anymore. The once-empty space was now home to the thick, scraggly branches of the tree, their forms pointing limply skyward as if decrying their sudden fate. The impact had kicked snow up in all directions, leaving a light, crystalline fog hanging over the ruin that sparkled gently in the sun. Or at least, it would have appeared gentle if not for the murderous howls of the nearby yeti. Or the shattered wooden fragments scattered all around. Or the putrid black fog pouring out of the broken bit of crystal right next to the tree’s trunk. Hunter stopped for a moment, his jaw gaping open as he noted the sharp gash across the fallen tree. That thing had to weigh at least several tons. All that weight came down on top—or at least alongside—that crystal, and it still took a good sized chunk out of it before it broke. That thing’s tough stuff! But it had broken. No, it was breaking. He could see cracks spreading down its length, more smoke spilling out of each one with a low hiss. Then a sudden snap echoed across the clearing as the rest of the crystal came completely apart, and the black cloud surged upward, a deep rolling growl echoing across the clearing as— Feathers! Hunter tucked his wings close with a forward kick, throwing himself back and into a roll as the roaring shadows rushed right at him, thick tendrils of smoke reaching out like claws. One speared the air where he’d just been, a growl of rage so deep it felt as though it was shaking his very armor following in its wake. Go go go! He had no way of knowing if the dozens of tendrils sweeping toward him were capable of hurting him, but as many of them as there were … He ducked under another outswept tendril, the blow silently sweeping over his head, then twisted, dodging a large branch and struggling for altitude. A quick juke to the side saw another miss, this one scything through a nearby branch—or rather not through. The smoke simply dissipated, breaking around the branch and reforming on the other side. And with a short series of snaps, black crystal growths burst through the bark like dozens of teeth. Okay, that’s terrifying. Two more tendrils rushed at him from opposite sides, sweeping through more branches with a chorus of pops, and he dropped. His hooves met a series of branches, and he kicked off of them, his wings half extended, snow showering behind him as he skipped from branch to branch to keep ahead. He was running half-blind now, unable to check behind him, but not really sure where he was going except— Anywhere but here! A chunk of ice, hurled by an irate yeti, smashed through the branches ahead of him, scattering snow across his head and chest. No time to stop! Another missile shot by behind him, narrowly missing his tail as it shot into the sky. Come on! He broke free of the thicker branches, wings going to their full extension once more, wind rushing over the feathers with a sensation that made him laugh despite the insanity around him. More chunk of ice were flying into the sky now, and he beat his wings hard, fighting for altitude as he spotted one of the yetis clawing its way up the trunk of a tree, trying to get at him. Its eyes were reddened and bloodshot. Too late, you starkers monkey, Hunter thought as he climbed further upward, the branches thinning. The yeti made a mighty leap, howling as it clawed for him, only to miss by more than a dozen feet and crash through the treetops, screaming the whole way. You won’t catch me now. He broke through the treetops, panting under his helmet as the storm-fueled winds tore at his body. That smoke thing though … He twisted his head, looking in every direction, surprise mounting as each glance showed nothing but empty skies and falling snow. No, there! He could still see the smoky shade that was Sombra … but only in faint glimpses through the branches. It was speeding by below him, a dark mist streaking through the trees. And behind it, howling, angry yeti. His slaves? Hunter wondered, twisting around and flying forward, still catching glimpses of the shadow as it moved east. Or—? One of the yeti hurled a chunk of ice at the shade. Enemies. The shade slid to one side, dodging the ice and powering through the forest. Still going east. Hunter came to a stop in the air as he reached the edge of the trees. Sombra exploded out of them, the dark king’s shadowy essence spilling over the snow like oil. It’s much bigger than it was last night, he thought as the black cloud streaked across the open snow, defying the winds that danced around it. The rampaging yeti stopped at the edge of the treeline, shaking claws and howling at the retreating specter. Whether or not they knew what it was, they seemed to realize it had been a threat. And up above … The Hummingbird was already moving through the air, far above, its propellers roaring as it ploughed into the wind. Bolt was tracking the shade as it moved across the mountain face. Not that it’d be easy to lose right now, Hunter thought, twisting around and letting the wind carry him back over the forest. Short of visibility issues with all this snow, a cloud of black that size is going to be pretty hard to miss. Even better, they’d gotten some new information. He dodged that chunk of ice. He wouldn’t have bothered doing that if it couldn’t harm him in some way. Even annoy him. Maybe we can use that. It was getting hard to breathe again. He brought a hoof up and rapped it against his muzzle without even looking, chunks of fresh ice breaking free and falling down through the branches. Air rushed into his waiting lungs, and he let out a quick sigh of relief as the faint sense of pressure vanished. Going to have to keep an eye on that, he thought as he skirted the clearing. If that catches one of us at the wrong moment … To the north, a flash of movement caught his eyes, and he turned to see a distant, purple figure waving one hoof at him from the side of the mountain. Hunter turned, angling toward him—or rather, at a point some distance ahead of him, since the wind was fighting every wingbeat. “You got out,” Hunter called as he neared Nova. The unicorn was trudging through the steep snow almost sideways to keep his footing. “Any trouble?” “Just some yeti,” Nova said, shrugging. “But I think they were more interested in the giant cloud of smoke coming out of that crystal. Was it just me, or was he bigger?” “He’s definitely bigger,” Hunter said, grabbing his snowshoes from his pack and sliding them over his hooves. “Makes him easier to see, though. Bolt’s following him right now. Headed east.” “Still east, huh?” Nova shook his head. “Is he lost? Or does he just know something we don’t?” “Let’s hope it’s the former,” Hunter said, settling into the snow. His hooves sunk in a few inches before stopping. “Anyway, we’d better get after them while we can still see The Hummingbird.” Nova nodded and began moving forward. “Wish I knew how to ski.” “Yeah. That’d be helpful right now.” “We could use a sled.” “And have me pull you uphill?” Hunter shook his head. “I’d say yes if it weren’t for this wind. Something to think about for future ops, unless …” He paused. “Can you block the wind with your magic?” “I’d burn a lot of it. Reaction and effect.” “Right. Not a good idea.” Hunter sighed, and then pointed at The Hummingbird. “Well then … let’s get moving. We’ve got ground to cover.” He tucked his wings to his sides and began to run.