//------------------------------// // Don't Shoot The Messenger // Story: All For A Sister // by LordOfTape //------------------------------// Blurs of color passed by the stallion’s head endlessly as he flew. Each flap of his powerful wings would erupt a cloud of dust around him that would open as he broke through it. It was a familiar rush of adrenaline and energy, which he welcomed with open hooves. It wasn’t a trait known to every pegasus, but more often than not, a pegasus would agree that flying is the best medicine. Whether it was taking a leisurely drift through the clouds or soaring in circles at breakneck speeds, flying was therapeutic to a pegasus. For this particular stallion, it was quite obvious what he enjoyed. Still, as at home as he felt in the air, so many things were keeping him away. He was low flying, coming as close to the ground as he could get without cutting his wings on the ground. He was in unfamiliar territory, and even more so, it wasn’t even similar in ecology to his typical flying spots. The rocks and blended shades of brown did not fit well with his eyes, which were adjusted to a vibrant spectrum of color. Years of training allowed him to keep up his pace, and to the common onlooker, he would appear in top form. But the area and circumstance weren’t the only things on his mind. He knew he had to be wary of the guards, especially because of his grand entrance at the palace. Nevertheless, there was something else, something even more pressing. It was almost as if he felt the pressure to fly faster. Slowly he picked up height; only a few feet, but still enough to clear the lower lying rocks. Fear of crashing nearly out of mind, the stallion flipped onto his back, utilizing his air born tricks to keep himself afloat and still racing ahead. His senses hadn’t failed him; there was a reason to fly faster. Behind him, and not that far, was a griffon. And this griffon was angry. Quickly returning to flying normally, the stallion’s eyes darkened with apprehension. He knew how fast griffons could fly, and no matter how confident he was in his own ability, if he got caught in a claw to hoof fight… he would lose. A new surge filled his veins as the red hot blood pumped itself into his wings. Each feather stiffened straight, layering themselves in perfect aerodynamic fashion. His autumn shaded feathers aligned like sharp rows of razors, slicing neatly through the sheets of air. Flying at 100%, he didn’t even bother to look back. If he was going to get caught, he’d have to drain himself to zero first. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ “Stupid, stupid, stupid,” Gilda muttered to herself as she flew. Even traveling at her top speed, the object in front of her kept pace. How could anything be able to out fly her? What’s more, it was going up and down, dodging the rocks jutting out from the canyon walls and floor. The grumbling griffon could do little more than keep flying, and so she did. Following the winged, eh thing, from such a distance proved to be a greater advantage than she had previously thought. Gilda, although movingly at an extremely fast pace, still had the keen eyes of an eagle. The living bullet ahead was avoiding the rocks from the surrounding terrain. It was such an obvious fact that she failed to realize how critical it was. The lagging griffon released a deep breath. She knew these mountains like the back of her claw. Even when intoxicated she could still find her way around, well, with a little help staying steady. The particular canyon they were heading down now lead to a dead end, mountainous walls blocking off every path except up. Gilda, without a second thought, shot upwards herself, being sure to avoid the ledges above. Now steadily floating above the canyon, Gilda mentally measured the distance remaining till the cut off. The speedster wannabe continued on, wholly unaware that she had ditched chasing him. Without anything left in her way to hinder her flight, she took off to the exit at the top of the canyon. She wouldn’t be able to catch her opponent going forward, but she could catch him going up. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The stallion pushed forward. So far he had done well at evading the many obstacles in his path, even dodging some falling debris from above. He hoped inside that his pursuer had fallen prey to something along the way, but in his mind he knew that wouldn’t be true. It was all he could do to just run, or fly as it was. Dodge the rocks and go, right? Unfortunately, the last bit of hope ran out when he realized that he was headed straight for a wall. There were already walls on both his left and right… he was going to get caught at a dead end. Even worse for wear, he was going far too fast to stop. If he slowed down now, there was a chance the griffon would capture him. Of course, if he reached the end the griffon would catch him anyways. Before he could even debate the decision, one of his wings clipped a stone to his left causing him to spin out of control. The instant jet of pain into his wing made him retract it back to his body, throwing his flight pattern off. His right wing still flapped, flipping him over barrel role style. The seemingly endless dirt world spun itself around his kaleidoscope eyes. First he crashed into the side of the canyon, and then he hit the floor. Like the perfect smooth stone to a placid lake, the stallion bounced along the floor of the earth. On his fourth leap, leading with his side, he slammed into the awaiting wall at the end of treacherous chasm. Pebbles and dust sprinkled over his cringing form. His eyes were shut tight, trying to repel the onslaught from the sky. His left wing throbbed, pressing hard against the ground over and over before returning to his side, simply to repeat the process. And if that wasn’t bad enough, he had knocked his head on the second skip. ‘Great.’ He thought to himself before fading out of consciousness. ‘How am I gonna get home like this?’ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Gilda’s plan was working even better than she had expected. She knew that whatever it was, it didn’t know the terrain well. That caused it to keep such vigil senses in regards to the terrain. Her prey had fouled up and crashed itself into the wall of the mountain. A mix between a giggle and cackle escaped the griffon’s mouth. It might’ve been fast, but whatever it was wasn’t too smart. Reaching the end of the gully trail, Gilda sank slowly to the ground. A quick survey of the scene revealed that the being had indeed crashed and was lying before her, unconscious. The more important fact of the matter proved to be the being itself. Battered and dirty, the once unidentifiable object confirmed itself as a pony. Gilda cocked her head sideways, inspecting the pony. Male, obviously. He seemed like a pretty full grown stallion, maybe even Rainbow Dash’s age. The thought sent shivers down Gilda’s neck, ruffling her feathers. Rainbow Dash had finally managed to escape her realm of thought… until now. Shaking the idea away, Gilda matted her feathers back down to her neck. The stallion at claw must have been in his prime, being able to compete with Gilda on her home turf. Still, it assured her ego even more to know she outsmarted him and proved that she was right. Ponies rarely came to Griffhala, so his foolish flying techniques were easily justified. This particular pony had an odd aura about him. Gilda regarded his autumn shading with a high level of interest. Gradually, the griffon paced her way around the unconscious body. It seemed familiar to her. Gilda rattled her brain for memories long since forgotten, trying to recall where she knew this stallion from. Saddled on a rock, claw to her chin, the idea struck her. There was only one place she could’ve been that any pony would’ve stuck out and that was Junior Speedster Flight School. Her flying prowess had gained her admittance to the prestigious school, accompanied by a few other select griffons. One would’ve imagined they would’ve been ostracized or ridiculed, but ponies were a rather accepting bunch. Still, the griffon’s general upbringing managed to keep them from making too many friends. Rainbow Dash circled Gilda’s mind again. The angry griffon snorted, trying her best to think away her ex-friend. Why couldn’t she just be left alone? She hadn’t done anything wrong. Rainbow Dash had been the one who changed. She became so lame, so stupid…like some prissy loser pony. Gilda had stayed the same; tough, fast, cool. So why did she feel so empty? “You’re stupid, you know that?” she snarled at the stallion’s body, “You and all the other lame ponies. You’re all pathetic.” It didn’t really matter why she knew this guy. It didn’t even matter if she did know him. She wanted no part of him. No more ponies, no more. One last glance at the poor stallion proved to be satisfactory to the griffon, allowing her mind to leave for the moment. Standing up from the rock, Gilda used her large lion legs to push off into the gaping hole that led out of the canyon. She took one last look around to make sure she was going in the right direction, and flew further away from the bar, further away from the stallion, further away from… her. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The only thoughts going through Alba’s mind were as follows: Fly, breathe, fly, remember, fly, hurry. The cycle would repeat endlessly through his mind like a broken record as he made his way to the first guard outpost on the Oiseau Tower near the east. Alba was never known for his brawn, leading his enlistment in the king’s army into his recruitment in the mail service. He didn’t mind all that much. He delivered messages to and from the king and his commanders. That was all. Of course, sometimes he had to cross over enemy lines, or make a shifty trade with local scum to get the information needed by his superiors. He wasn’t above getting into fights, nor was he above petty theft. Of course, that described the majority of griffon kind. Alba tried the best he could to stay out of the more violent aspects of his country though. He was a small griffon in comparison, which put him at a huge disadvantage. Alba always thought of his size as blessing when it came to his field of work, surprisingly enough. Being smaller gave him better mobility and hiding capabilities. He had never once failed in delivering a message on time, and had never been caught. Alba prided himself on his impeccable record, and it crushed him to have to throw it out the window. Fortunately, his need to save his people was greater than his need to be perfect. If he could warn the guard towers fast enough, they might be able to put a stop to Maxido’s madness before it began. A grey blur began forming in Alba’s line of vision. He had almost reached the castle walls. Oiseau Tower was the closest outpost to the king’s castle and it had barely taken the griffon any time to get there. The enormous stone behemoth loomed over the tiny approaching griffon. It was a cylinder tower, a set of stairs on the outside and another on the inside. It was meant mainly for scouting and relaying messages, not protecting borders. Atop the structure were three griffon guards. Their shining silver armor told Alba that they were part of the king’s personal service. “Halt!” called one of the guards, “Who goes there?” Alba, fully aware of proper procedure, stopped midflight and saluted. “Colonel Alba T. Ross, messenger of the king.” “State your purpose.” “I have a special message from the king to the captain of this outpost.” “Papers?” “I said special message,” Alba glared. Although small in size, Alba was not to be trifled with. As a messenger of the king, he was granted the title of Lieutenant Colonel. This ensured his travel throughout Griffhala. It was a precautionary measure taken to make sure that the messengers would be able to get into every outpost, save a few specific bases. Generally, papers were a requirement to get by, especially in times of panic. But Alba knew a few certain tricks that would get him by without them. The first guard nodded his head in understanding and let Alba land on the base. The other two guards searched him, and finding nothing suspicious, accompanied him down into the depths of the base. It was a good fifty or sixty stories tall, although the majority of the base was underground. Several levels were reserved for barracks, but there were few griffons not out at the moment. The new king had just called for a nationwide alarm on the intruding stallion. Only Alba knew what his real intentions for it were. When they finally reached their level, Alba opened the door to the Major General’s office. It was a small room, carved inside the mountain. It’s only functions were to hold the proper paper work of the MG and allow him a desk to review it at. “Excuse me, but I’m rather busy. Why am I being interrupted?” He growled at the incoming messenger and guards. “General Graft, I am Colonel Alba T. Ross and I have an important message for you from the king’s palace.” The disgruntled MG lifted his eyes from his paperwork to glare at Alba. Rather, he lifted his eye. Graft’s right eye had an eye patch over it, with a scar showing around it. His eye didn’t seem to be showing any signs of happiness either, only annoyance. “The king’s palace, not the king? What do you mean by that?” He asked, doubting the small messenger. “You see sir, the king had ordered me to tell everyone to hold off on the search. He wanted the townsfolk to go after the intruder while he reorganized the military. But when I went back to retrieve a signed paper with his orders, I overheard him talking to himself.” Graft nodded his head as the messenger spoke. Alba, deep in his own speech, did not notice the subtle hints the general had been giving to his men with his nods. They inched forward, unheard and unnoticed by Alba. “He didn’t see me, but I heard him say that he was the king’s killer! We need to stop him immediately. I’m going to go and inform the other forts now. Please mobilize your men!” Alba’s hadn’t intended to yell, but as he retold the information his blood pressure began to rise. He was tensing up with the knowledge that he had become involved in political intrigue. Had he kept his cool, he might’ve been able to escape his inopportune fate. “I understand, Colonel. We should act fast, lest this information get out of claw. Men,” he paused; his mouth smirking, his eye looking at Alba with superior aptitude, “mobilize.” Instantly, the two guards grabbed Alba and cuffed his claws. The one on his left held him tightly while the one on his right clapped on the shackles. “What the, let go!” Alba pleaded angrily. “Take him to the penitentiary and lock him down to ground level. I want him chained up now!” “What’re you guys doing? There’s a killer impersonating our king!” The treacherous griffon laughed in Alba’s face, “Kid, don’t you get it? We’re with Maxido. The whole of the royal guard is.” Turning to his men he said, “Now lock him up. I don’t want this messenger delivering another message for the rest of his miserable life.”