//------------------------------// // The Lull // Story: Wind and Stone // by Ruirik //------------------------------// Even the rain in Altus was salty.  Gods only knew how ponies lived here.  Iron Rain shook her head, sitting on the edge of the dock and staring out at the choppy waves.  And ponies thought Nimbus was harsh? “...so then we pull up the nets with the cord here, see?  That tightens the whole net at the same time it’s pulling the fish out of the water.” “Huh?” The kid let out a laugh, which was kind of a sorry thing in his state, but it still made Rain smile.  Somewhere under everything he was going through, it was genuine.  “Rain… look, you don’t really need to know all that.  I’ll handle all the rope work.  You just need to take care of the heavy lifting.” “Kinky,” muttered Summer nearby, just loud enough that both Finder and Rain could hear.  Unfortunately, the medic hadn’t quite judged her distance from Rain’s right foreleg.  The splash of a pink mare hitting water made that fact unambiguous. Windshear and Stonewall rushed over to the edge of the Altus dock as Finder let out a lot healthier of a laugh, and soon the entire Rainstorm, save one very wet and grumpy Summer Celsus, were sharing a healthy set of smiles around the set of nets Carver had scrounged from around the city. “Nice, Rain…” Summer grumbled. “You started it,” Thorn told her with a slap over the shoulders.  “Come on, we’ve got our net and you’ve been down there, so you must know where to aim it.” When Thorn took off, Summer was left to try and dry herself as quickly as possible to catch up with the farmer. “Good luck,” Rain shouted. “You’ll need it,” Stonewall added.  “C’mon, Carver.” Then Carver and Stonewall were gone.  Without any taunts or banter, Haze and Windshear followed.  Only Rain and Finder were left on the dock, alone. “Should we go?” Rain asked the kid. Finder turned and looked up at her.  “What’s wrong, Rain?” “Huh?” “I know it’s not me.  I mean… maybe it’s kind of me, but there’s something more.”  Finder turned to stare across the sea.  “Are you afraid of leaving?” Rain shook her head.  “Not anymore.”  Her eye still itched in the salty spray.  “I was a damn idiot, kid, and you were right. I shouldn’t have tried to fight Magnus.  But I know we can’t stay here.  We can’t win.  We can only survive now.” “Then what is it?” Rain wrapped a wing around the colt’s shoulders.  “Just… look, you don’t need to worry about this.” “I’m worried about you, Rain.” Iron Rain winced, and slowly wound the rope Finder had been pointing to around a foreleg.  “Hurricane’s plan is going to kill us all.” “Who’s Hurricane?” “Exactly,” Rain snorted.  “He’s the new emperor, kid.  Cataegis Haysar, if you buy into the old Cirran crap.  But as far as I can tell, he’s an idiot farmcolt who wouldn’t know which end of a sword to bite when it was cutting his lips.  I guess he’s Imperator Thunder Gale’s kid, and that was enough for the old emperor.” Finder slowly extended his bad wing, but it still wasn’t good enough to fly on yet.  Rain chuckled, and lowered down so the young stallion could climb onto her back.  “Sorry.” “I told you to stop saying that,” Rain answered.  “You saved my life.  Carrying your scrawny flank around is a small price to pay, believe me.  Besides, you weigh less than my sword.” “Really?” “Sure feels like it,” Rain answered, launching herself up into the stormy sky.  “Now, where are we headed?” —————————————- The fish was good food.  Damn good, if Rain was being honest, even if it made her feel guilty.  Her cold soldier’s logic told her she absolutely needed to be at fighting strength.  Still, it had been hard to hoof out tiny fillets to the starving masses from all over Cirra while holding a dozen whole fish back for her personal friends. Still, even if her heart was empty, as she sat back against the wall of the command tent she’d set up, outside the borders of the fishing town overflowing with refugees, she could at least be content her belly was full. She’d been expecting a report from her scouts as she sat, working on teaching Pathfinder to read with the reports she was getting from Stratopolis, so she hardly looked up when she heard the tent flap tossed open. “What kind of numbers?” she asked, not yet looking up at the third scout of the day to arrive. “Oh, I don’t know.  Twenty five, seven… I’ve always been partial to one hundred and one.”  The smooth timbre of Senator Discentus filled the room, pulling Rain’s eyes up from her book.  “It’s good to see you’re recovering, Pathfinder.” “I’m surprised you remember me,” Pathfinder answered. The old stallion shrugged.  “Politicians have to get good at names.  At least, that’s what they tell me.”  Beside him, the tent flapped opened again to reveal a panting tan mare.  “Let me introduce you; Swift, this is Pathfinder.  Pathfinder, this is Swift Spear, Emperor Hurricane’s wife.” Rain leapt to her hooves.  “Tachys!” Pathfinder turned his head. “Umm…” “They’re cousins,” Discentus explained to Pathfinder in a whisper, walking over to the colt and helping him to his hooves.  “The nicknames are old Nimban, believe it or not.” Swift Spear seemed completely ignorant of the conversation, and after a quick hug with Rain, glanced past her at the bowls of fish left on the floor of the tent.  “It’s great to see you too, Sidero!  Um… do you mind if I steal some of that?” “I guess,” Rain answered with a shrug.  “Long flight?  Did you come here from Stratopolis?” Swift nodded, before falling onto the plate.  “Yeah, but we weren’t flying that fast.  The others slowed us down.” “Others?” asked Rain. “The last evacuees from Stratopolis,” Discentus answered.  “Magnus has closed the lines now.  One way or another, it’s the endgame.” That darkened Swift’s expression considerably as she ate. “Alright,” Rain noted.  “But you were always a light flier, Tachys.  Why so hungry now?” Swift swallowed a bite of the fish and sat back.  “Well… I’m eating for two now,” she answered. “You…”  Rain’s eyes swept down her cousin’s figure.  “Wait, you… with Hurricane?” “We are married now, Rain.” Swift corrected.  Then the darkness on her face grew even harsher.  “For however long he has left.” Discentus coughed heavily, very deliberately stealing as much attention in the room as he could, if only to spare Swift from dwelling on her thoughts.  “We’ve confirmed that Magnus has brought the vast majority of his armies against Stratopolis.  In that way, at least, Hurricane’s plan is working.  Magnus is too proud to let the capital stand, even if most of our civilians are here, readying to cross the sea.” “I feel like I can hear a ‘but’ in your voice, old man.  Spit it out.” Discentus sighed.  “There is one army our scouts did not confirm around Stratopolis.  Do you know what the name Gottlichewache, Rain?” “No, but I speak enough griffon to get ‘Divine Guard’ out of that.” She quirked a brow.  “But Magnus already has the Oathsworn as a personal guard.” “Magnus isn’t the only griffon god,” Discentus noted.  Then, with a little bit of humor, he perked up.  “Thankfully, he’s the only one anypony has seen walking around.” “Good.  I like having a least one eye,” Rain answered.  “So they’re… what, temple guards?” “From Angenholt,” Swift Spear noted.  “They were responsible for carrying offerings from remote griffon villages to the the griffon’s mountain of the gods for sacrifice.  They were said to be extremely cruel to villages that could not offer the necessary sacrifice.” “Elites…” Rain noted. “Elites who specialize in sowing fear and slaughtering civilians,” Discentus observed.  “Which we have a surplus of.” “It wouldn’t matter if it were a normal unit,” Rain answered, before abruptly whirling and slamming a planning table up onto its side against the wall of the tent.  “It wouldn’t matter if it were a bunch of greenwings with wooden swords!” “Rain!” Finder shouted, skirting back from her. At the sound of his voice, Rain’s motion slowed abruptly.  “I… I’m sorry, Finder.” “Why wouldn’t it matter?” Swift answered softly. Rain slowly, tentatively, let a wing drift to the opening in the tent.  “I have three centuries of combat-fit milites.  Less than two hundred ponies.  And that’s not three centuries that trained together.  That’s ponies from six different legions who barely know each others names and have the unit cohesion of those damn fish Swift was eating.  The only veterans I’ve got are my own Rainstorm.  Maybe with walls, I could buy us time to evacuate, but we simply don’t have the supplies to cross the sea like this.  That’s why I’ve been waiting.  Making everypony ration as much as they can.” Discentus pinched his own cheek between his teeth.  “Then I may as well tell you the last bit of bad news.” “There’s more?” Pathfinder asked incredulously. The old stallion nodded solemnly.  “What we know about the Gottlichewache we learned from the survivors of the battle at Tontri.  They’re led by a griffoness named Yngvilde.  Magnus’ favorite daughter.” Rain turned at that, but Pathfinder spoke up first.  “Is she like him?  Magic?  Giant?” “That I do not know.  All we know her for is her cruelty… instead of a sword or axe, she wears steel blades on her talons, and—” “That’s enough, Discentus,” Rain interrupted, nodding faintly toward Pathfinder.  “I need him calm.  Cirra needs him.” “Really?”  Pathfinder raised a brow.  “What good am I?” “I can’t save everypony,” Rain told him.  “But if we’re going to save anypony at all, I’ll need somepony who knows this land like the back of his hoof.”