//------------------------------//
// Chapter 16 
// Story: Rekindled Embers 
// by applezombi 
//------------------------------//


Chapter 16


Recording of a Radio Free Equestria broadcast.  Listening to, recording, or possession of so-called ‘pirate radio’ broadcasts are to be considered acts of heresy and will be punished accordingly.

	“Hello New Canterlot City!  It’s me, Cutting Wave, and once again you’re listening to the best and onliest pirate radio station in Equestria!  Yup, not ‘the Diarchy’, but Equestria, for you new listeners.  That’s what our land used to be called, back when things made sense.

	“Didjya know that?  That things used to make sense here in Equestria?  Ponies were kind to each other.  Pegasi, earth ponies, and unicorns all lived together, married, had foals together, worked together, made friends together.  Crazy, right?  Nope, actually, what’s up now is crazy.  We’ve marinated in this insanity for so long that we don’t even notice.

	“Oh well.  Sorry I sound a bit rambly tonight.  I’m a bit excited and off my game because we've got a request from the Discordant to broadcast a message.  Yup, this is a bit of a call-out to the Knights Mystic, the puffed up stallions and mares themselves that run the show.  This message is a little unprecedented, we don’t usually get direct communications from the Big Guy.

	“You heard me, Mystics.  This message is for you, from Sir Heartwing of the Discordant.  He asked me to pass it on special for those of you listening in tonight.  Here it is: ‘Stay the buck out of Manehatten, you self-righteous pricks.’

	“That’s it.  That’s all he told me to say.  Well, he might have been a bit more colorful than that, but there could be foals listening, and we at Radio Free Equestria are running a family show, damn it!

	“In other news…

The remaining recording cuts off there.

1112 AF, New Canterlot City

“It has been quite some time since you’ve visited my office, Emberglow,” Steadfast Word said with surprised delight when Emberglow knocked on his door the next day.  “Come in.”

“Thank you, sir,” she said, and he laughed.

“You know you don’t have to call me that,” Steadfast said.  Emberglow blushed.

“Old habit, sir… er, Steadfast.  Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Steadfast said, laughing again.  “What brings you to my office today?”

“Actually, Steadfast, I have a favor to ask,” Emberglow began nervously.  “Do you trust me?”

“Yes, Emberglow, I’ve known you for years.  Of course I trust you,” he said.  He moved behind his desk, motioning for her to sit.  His office was comforting, and she let the familiarity calm her nerves.

“I just want to ask a question, but I don’t know how to get the information I’m looking for.  See, I have a pony I used to be close friends with.  He lived next door to me and my family for years, and he was always kind and encouraging.  When I got back from my last assignment, he was gone, and I was told he had been taken by the Knights Mystic.  For heresy.”  She paused, waiting for a response from Steadfast, but he merely looked thoughtful as he waited for Emberglow to continue.  “It makes no sense to me, sir.  Heresy seems so… out of character for him.  He was kind and faithful, and I need to know what happened.  What made him choose to fall from the grace of the Saints.  It’s… really bothering me, sir, to not know all the information.”

“You always were driven and curious,” Steadfast said, slowly .  “You’re sure he was taken by the Mystics?”

“I asked my friend, Lofty Tale of the Vigilant, to ask around.  He was told that Oak Chips was taken for heresy, but the Mystics he spoke to wouldn’t say any more.  They seemed quite upset that he’d even asked,” Emberglow said.

“Ah yes, the silly turf wars between us and the Vigilant.  Hogwash, if you ask me.  Utter silliness,” Steadfast scoffed.  “Oak Chips was the fellow’s name?  I can’t say I recognize it, so it wasn’t a case I was involved in.”

“Oh,” Emberglow said, her voice sinking as she slumped into her pillow.  “I was hoping…”

“Oh don’t look so put out, Emberglow,” Steadfast said.  “I can at least ask.  If he was taken for questioning, it may be a classified matter, and I’ll be unable to share any information, but I can try.  If you don’t mind, there’s a colleague of mine I can speak with right away.  Do you mind waiting?”

“Not at all, sir… I mean, Steadfast,” Emberglow corrected, earning herself another laugh from the senior Knight.

“I shouldn’t be more than ten minutes.  I might not have any information to give you, however, so don’t get your hopes up.”  Steadfast stepped out of the office, closing it behind him.  She sat back and waited for Steadfast to return. 

Emberglow found her eyes idly drifting over the papers on his desk.  She was surprised to see something familiar; a single sentence note that she’d last seen in Delver Deep’s office in Port Luminescence — Zuberi's note.  It was an odd coincidence, had he been looking into her mission?  

True to his word, it only took Steadfast about ten minutes before he re-entered the office.  His expression was grim as he sat down across from her.  She waited, expectantly, but also with growing dread.

“Emberglow, I…” he began, hesitating.  Steadfast took a deep breath.  “I’m sorry, there’s nothing I can tell you right now about your friend.”

“I see.  Thank you for asking, sir,” Emberglow sighed, not even bothering to correct herself this time.  He shook his head sadly

“In fact, the Mystic in charge of the investigation was quite upset that somepony has been asking into his business.  You may have annoyed some ponies in my order, Emberglow.”

“I promise, I meant no harm,” Emberglow said.  “I just want to understand, that’s all.  I’m not trying to cause any problems for anypony.”

“What if…” Steadfast began thoughtfully.  “What if there was something you could do to earn a little good will between yourself and our order?  I might have an idea that could help you get what you need, and even smooth things out a bit with Hollybright.”

“You know about that?” Emberglow flinched.  Steadfast nodded.

“Hollybright and I speak on occasion,” Steadfast said slowly.  

There was the mildest hint of distaste in his voice, and Emberglow raised her eyebrows quizzically.  

Steadfast gave a rueful chuckle.  “She and I have never gotten along.  Perhaps I owe you an apology, Emberglow.  She knows I sponsored you, and perhaps that is why she was so harsh with you.  But that doesn’t mean I am without influence.  A few words in the right ears, and I can ensure that Hollybright has other things to occupy her time.”

“Oh,” Emberglow said, not knowing if that was good or bad.  “So what can I do for you?”

“I know you’re currently off assignment.  I need a team to go into an incredibly dangerous environment to investigate a disturbing motic surge.  The team will be large, including regular soldiers and at least six Knights.”  Steadfast seemed calm, but his eyes sparkled with unspoken excitement.  In his hooves was a manilla folder that he was fiddling with idly.

“Why me, sir?” Emberglow asked, her eyes drawn naturally to the folder, though 

“You may be Lady Rarity’s, but you have a mind like a Mystic.  You’re inquisitive, you’re observant, and you’re driven.  I need ponies like you.”  His voice was fervent, and full of passion.

“And if I say yes?” Emberglow asked.  She didn’t like the feel of this quid pro quo.

“I’ll somehow convince the inquisitor in charge of Oak Chip’s case to let me see the files,” he patted the stack of other papers already on his desk.  “I’ll pass on whatever information I can.  If you go, I don’t think you’ll need to speak with Hollybright any longer, either.”

“And if I don’t agree to go?” she asked softly.

“It’s not like that, Emberglow.,” he waved his hooves defensively.  “ I’ll ask Hollybright to back off.  She knows none of you had anything to do with your teammate’s sins, she’s just trying to be thorough with her duty.  You understand that.”

“Yes, I understand,” Emberglow said, feeling a bit relieved.  It felt less like she was being bribed with getting out of an inconvenient investigation, and more like she was going to do a favor for a friend.

“Besides, I actually think this mission will really pique your intellectual curiosity,” Steadfast said with a sly grin.  “It’s in Manehatten.”

That got Emberglow’s attention.  She immediately sat up, her ears perking towards Steadfast, and her eyes darted back and forth between the manilla folder in his hooves and the slightly smug smirk on his face.  The island of Manehatten was a diseased, overgrown ruin, covered in hundreds of years of foliage growth and seeping with dangerous levels of motic radiation.  It was obvious that Steadfast was manipulating her, leaving a trail of breadcrumbs for her to be tantalized by.  

Frustratingly, he clearly knew her well enough to know that she would be immediately hooked by those breadcrumbs. 

“You said we were going to investigate a motic surge?  How strong was the surge to be detected over the ambient motic radiation of the island itself?”

“’We’?” Steadfast said with a pleased smile.  Emberglow sighed and rolled her eyes.

“Yes, you caught my interest.  Tell me more.”

“The surge is unusually strong, and contains a strange character.”

“Character?  What do you mean?” Emberglow asked.

“The Mystics have an outpost just outside Manehatten, about thirty miles away from the island.  We’ve got outposts throughout the Diarchy, set up with motic seismographs.  Sometimes, if a unicorn is employing powerful magics, we can sense the motic surge.  The machines also record surges from things like magical explosions, dragon incursions, or other odd anomalies.  There are patterns to these readings, and the patterns coming from Manehatten are far different from anything we’ve recorded there before.  Stronger, as well.”

“What is it?” Emberglow asked impatiently, her curiosity piqued.  If she had suspected Steadfast of leading her on with hints and implications before, now she was sure.  Of course she knew about the Mystic listening stations; every Knight did.  

“We have no idea.  It’s not unicorn magic, either.  Or I should say, not only unicorn magic.  It’s hard to say without getting closer with our investigators and our instruments.”

“So you’re going to be going?” Emberglow asked.  Steadfast laughed.

“No, camping in irradiated ruins is a young pony’s game.  I’m sending a student of mine, a Mystic named Brightblade.  He’s going to be the commander of this mission, at my request.”

“Do you know the other ponies who will be going?” Emberglow asked.

“I’ve spoken with a few others, including another Mystic besides Brightblade.  You won’t be the only Radiant this time either, you’ll be serving underneath Lady Bitterroot.  I’ve also made a request with the Knights Adamant for at least four of their number, and a Jubilant as well.  Manehatten is dangerous, and you’ll need plenty of martial power.  I’ve also been allowed three full squads of marines.”  He paused a moment, allowing Emberglow a second to be suitably awed at the number of ponies and Knights that would be going on this mission.  “Lady Bitterroot will be in charge of medical care for the Knights, while you will be commanding the three medics in charge of each of the marine squads, supervising and supplementing their care as needed.  Have you met the mare?”

“Lady Bitterroot?  No, I haven’t,” Emberglow said.

“You’ll like her.  Everypony does.  She’s the perfect stereotype of the grizzled, scarred combat veteran.  No fear, and fiercely protective of the Knights she’s serving with.  A bit of a cranky mother hen at times, but those of us who know her love her for it,” he said.  “I know her myself from my days on the griffon front.”

“I look forward to meeting her, then,” Emberglow said.  “Forgive me, sir, but it sounds like you were already planning on including me before we even had this conversation.”

“I was going to ask for you specifically, yes,” Steadfast said.  “Your Order head, First Lady Fairy Light said she’d be more than happy to assign you to me, except you hadn’t yet been cleared for duty by Hollybright’s investigation yet.”

“You’re terribly manipulative sometimes, sir,” Emberglow said, trying not to smirk at him.  Steadfast winked.

“It doesn’t hurt that I can do you a favor in exchange for the one you’re doing me, does it?” he mused, and she nodded.  An exchange of favors felt much better than the hint of bribery had.  It felt more honest, somehow, even though it had essentially the same result in the end.  “The truth is, I think I’ll need you there, Emberglow.  My old squire Brightblade is a fine Knight, intelligent and observant.  But you’re different.  You think more deeply than he does.  You’re a little more unconventional, willing to think around corners.  Few other Knights would have bothered to ask about their friend the way you did, when threatened with the ire of the Mystics.  I have a hunch that we’ll need that sort of determination and resolve, if it can be kept under control.”

“Um, thank you, sir?” Emberglow said, noting the warning inside the compliment.  Unconventional thinking was not usually rewarded, even among the Knights, and the cautious note in Steadfast’s voice was a clear message to her.  “I’ll do my best.”  It seemed like the appropriate response, though it felt limp.  An errant thought struck her mind.  “Um, one more thing, si… um, Steadfast.  Can you intercede with Hollybright on behalf of the marines we were with, as well?  They also had nothing to do with Bubblegum’s betrayal.”

Steadfast pursed his lips with thought, glancing critically at Emberglow.  The silence was long enough that Emberglow began to grow nervous.

“You know I can’t promise anything,” he said finally.  “Heresy hides in even the most innocuous places.  We have to be thorough.”

“I understand that, Steadfast.  I only ask that you try.”

“Very well, young lady,” he replied.  Emberglow noted a bit of annoyance in his voice.  “Be careful you don’t ask for too much, Knight.”

“Yes, sir,” she said, shifting in her seat nervously.  She needed to change the subject.  “What is the timetable for this mission?”

“Here,” he said by way of an answer, passing the folder across the desk.  Emberglow flipped it open eagerly; it was a dossier full of information, files on ponies, aerial photographs of the region, and more.  “I believe Brightblade wishes to depart for Outpost 192 by the end of the week.  He’s finishing up the last logistic details and negotiating with the Vigilant for their participation.  You’ll have all the details and departure dates in your dossier.”  Steadfast smiled, reaching out and patting Emberglow’s hoof.  “This mission will be just what you need, Emberglow.  Take some time to relax, and don’t worry about these things that have been troubling you.  You’ll have enough on your mind soon enough.”

It was a clear dismissal, and Emberglow took it as such.  Even though he technically had no authority over her at the moment, Steadfast was a senior Knight, and years of interactions between them had ingrained a habit of deference into Emberglow’s reflexive behavior.

“Yes, thank you Steadfast.  You have been helpful,” Emberglow said, sincerely.  The conversation had been disturbing, but at least she would eventually be getting the information she wanted.  Oak Chip’s fate still burned at her, but she could hold her apprehension about his story at bay for now.  She stood up and left the older stallion’s office.


*   *   *   *   *


The next morning saw her sitting in the living room at her parent’s home, browsing through the dossier.   Her parents didn’t mind Emberglow looking over paperwork in their living room while they ran the shop downstairs, so she sat at the family couch and read.

In reality, information about what their objective in Manehatten would be was nearly nonexistent.  Nopony knew much at all about what had caused the motic surge, or even precisely where it had occurred.  The information in the dossier was mostly photographs and maps of the Mystic outpost they would be assembling at, as well as some bios for the ponies who had already been confirmed to be going on the mission.  She read about Sir Brightblade (who, to Emberglow’s surprise and slight trepidation, was actually Hollybright’s twin brother) and Lady Bitterroot, and was even pleasantly surprised to see that Knight Sergeant Delver Deep would be leading the three other Knights Adamant who would be accompanying them.  

She didn’t recognize any of the other Adamant, but the second Mystic, Lady Joyful Sound, was a name she recognized from the Ivy Seminary.  Joy wasn’t an unpleasant memory, and as far as Emberglow remembered she had never joined with her bullies, but she had never really stood out, either.  The last member of the team, according to a note in the dossier, was a yet-to-be-determined Knight Jubilant.  

So, two Mystics, four Adamants, two Radiants, and one Jubilant.  Nine Knights, as well as thirty or more marines.  Whatever was going on in ruined Manehatten had the Mystics taking things very seriously. 

The dossier did outline a rough itinerary, including an airship departure time for the outpost on Friday afternoon.  The ponies who would be going would be assembling at the outpost before boarding another airship, a smaller, faster, higher altitude military vehicle that would take them above the city itself, where the earth ponies would be parachuting into the ruins below, while the pegasi got down on their own wingpower.  The high altitude approach was necessary because of the dangers of the destroyed city, as well as the difficulty and time it would take to approach by land.  Emberglow wondered what it would be like to be up so high and to trust one’s life to a few ropes and a piece of cloth; it made her mutter a quick prayer of gratitude to the three pegasus Saints for her own wings.  

Also in the dossier was a pamphlet of information on some of the creatures that the Knights might encounter in Manehatten.  Emberglow flipped through the pamphlet, looking at the various diagrams and autopsy reports of some of the mutants that had been encountered there before.  Even when delivered in a clinical, scientific way, the visuals were nightmarish.  

There were flightless blind birds the size of ponies, some with mismatched limbs, some with multiple heads, which consumed flesh.  There were mosquitoes the size of a pony’s head that could spit acid as a defense mechanism.  There were wormlike creatures, large enough to swallow a cart, which skittered up and down destroyed buildings as if they were horizontal surfaces with their hundreds of centipede-like legs.  Everything that lived in Manehatten seemed specifically designed to prey on ponies.  And that didn’t even count the heretic Knights.

Nopony knew where the Knights Discordant lurked, but they were a constant threat to the Diarchy.  One thing that most intelligence agreed on, however, was the fact that the Discordant were frequently seen around Manehatten.  Nopony knew what interest the heretics had in the ruined city, but it made sense that a corrupt, rotten city would call to those corrupt, rotten ponies.  

A shiver ran down Emberglow’s fur.  Besides Bubblegum, she’d never fought against a Knight before.  She hoped it was an experience she would continue to avoid.  She was afraid, however, that it was all too possible.

Emberglow had two days to pack and spend time with her family before her scheduled departure time.  The dossier suggested that she would only be able to carry enough personal items to fit in a single small saddlebags, so packing would take only a few minutes.  She settled on her personal Book of the Saints, her journal, and a few pens.  After a moment’s thought, she also included her own personal first aid kit.  It wasn’t much, just some bandages and gauze, disinfectant, some emergency anti-venom, and painkillers.

And a small package of hard candies, of course, because cupcakes and muffins didn’t fit in a personal first aid kit.  


*   *   *   *   *


Finally Friday arrived, and Emberglow was a bit relieved that her departure was much quieter than her first mission.  Her parents still saw her off at the port, but there was a subdued nature to their farewell.  Emberglow could tell both her parents were nervous, but they shook off her concerns and sent her away with a final hug and kiss each.  

“Emberglow!  Over here!”  Delver Deep was standing on board the airship, waving a hoof in her direction.  He was chatting with three unfamiliar ponies wearing blue robes.  She bypassed the gangplank and flew over to the four Adamants.

“Emberglow, meet Tad and Gem Redmane,” he pointed at two earth ponies, a mare and a stallion.  They were nearly identical in appearance, with grey coats and eponymous red manes.  Gem, the mare, smiled brightly as she shook Emberglow’s hoof.  Her brother was less exuberant, but his more subdued greeting was no less warm.

“And this is Silverfeather,” Delver introduced the third stranger, a diminutive pegasus with a long, silvery blue mane tied back behind her in a ponytail.  Silverfeather said nothing, but nodded politely.  “Knights, Emberglow here’s a credit to her Order.  She was invaluable back on my last assignment.  She’s fresh, but very skilled and good in a fight.”

“I…” Emberglow stammered, not knowing what to say.  She didn’t think she was, really, but Delver was a bit taciturn and usually sparing in his praise.  “Um, really?”

Gem laughed.  “I think you’ve confused the poor girl.  Not used to hearing compliments from Delver?”

“No,” Emberglow admitted.

“I’m not that stingy in my praise,” Delver muttered.  Gem rolled her eyes, and her brother joined her in a chuckle.  Silverfeather just silently shook her head with amusement.

“You are exactly that stingy with praise.  Remember that time when I sparred with you at Old Canterlot, while I was a squire?” Gem asked.  “Or maybe there was the time when me and Tad chased off the dragon?  Or how about when Silverfeather flew all the way from Camp Pinewood to Forward Base Legrand in two hours?  You were super generous with compliments then.”  The sarcasm was obvious.

“Every time I wrote glowing letters of praise to your commanders!” Delver protested.

“That’s how he gives praise.  In letters to other ponies,” Gem teased.  Emberglow laughed, but she couldn’t help feeling a bit out of place.  The whole conversation hinted at relationships, friendships she was not a part of.  It was one of the only times Emberglow had ever regretted the rarity of the Knights Radiant; she supposed she would always be the exception, the outlier, and would always be a bit of a mare apart.

“Looks like our other Mystic is boarding,” Silverfeather spoke, her voice as light and silvery as her name.  She pointed with a hoof at a familiar looking earth pony mare, with a short, dark blue mane with light blue streaks over pale grey fur, that was struggling onboard the ship under the weight of several large trunks.  Emberglow flew over to help.

“Please don’t touch!” the mare in purple robes insisted as soon as Emberglow got closer.  “I… can manage on my own.”  She was grunting with effort.

“Are you sure?” Emberglow wasn’t convinced.  “It looks heavy.”

“I’ll be fine, Emberglow, thank you.” She didn’t even glance up at Emberglow as she reached the deck of the ship. Emberglow was a bit surprised she knew her name; Joyful Sound had never interacted much with many other students.  “Now you’ll excuse me, I’ve got delicate instruments here and I’d rather not chance some clumsy sailor knocking them over and…”

“Sorry!  Go ahead,” Emberglow was mildly surprised at Joyful Sound’s standoffishness, though it was consistent with how she remembered her.  “Are you sure I can’t…”

“No thank you, but thanks for offering.”  At least she was polite.  Emberglow felt a bit confused as she flapped back over to the Adamants, who were chatting and laughing again at some story she hadn’t been a part of.

“That was odd,” she commented, and the others nodded.  A shadow seemed to pass over Delver’s face.

“Just wait until you meet the other Mystic, our commander, Sir Brightblade,” Delver said softly.

“What do you mean?” Emberglow asked, but Delver shook his head, unwilling to say more.

“At least we can hope that our Jubilant will be fun,” Gem chimed in.  “Does anypony know anything about this Barium Ion?”

“Only what was in the dossier,” Emberglow admitted.  “He’ll be coming in after us on a different airship.”

“And your sister Radiant, this Bitterroot?” Gem continued.

“I’ve heard from Steadfast that we’re all going to love her.” Emberglow smiled.  “He described her as a crusty old veteran with a motherly streak.”  Delver laughed, and the others grinned.  “She sounds fun.  The dossier said she’d be there before us, from the griffon front.”

“That’s good,” Gem nodded.  “One Radiant is a blessing, two will probably mean the difference between success and failure.  And it’ll be all the better if she’s fun, too.”  She grinned, and patted Emberglow on the back companionably.  “We were going to check out the airship before takeoff, maybe see if there’s a mess hall and snacks.  Want to join us?”

The offer was kind, but there was a casual, easy sort of togetherness between the Knights Adamant that Emberglow just didn’t feel a part of.  Even the way Gem said ‘us’ and ‘we’ made Emberglow realize she wasn’t really a piece of their whole.  

She shook her head politely.  “No thank you.  But I appreciate the invitation.”  Gem shrugged, and the four Adamants went their own way while Emberglow wandered over to the railing to watch as the ship lifted off.

All around her, the sailors scurried about the deck, finishing their final preparations.  Despite the crowd, Emberglow found herself walking across the deck with relative ease — the sailors respectfully gave her a wide berth as she drifted around.

Just like on her last departure from New Canterlot City, Emberglow found herself watching the city dwindle and shrink as the vessel ascended, and then slipped away from the city.  Emberglow kept her eyes on Emerald Street as long as she could, even though she couldn’t identify individual buildings.  Her mind wandered as she watched the neighborhood fade in the distance, and she thought about Oak Chips.  The last time she’d left, he’d disappeared.  She wondered, for an instant, who might disappear when she came back this time.  The thought was chilling enough that she froze up, gripping the railing tighter momentarily. She tried to dismiss the thought with a somewhat forced snort and a shake of her head. It was probably just pre-mission jitters rather than some sort of absurd premonition.  

Thinking of home, though, made her think of her parents, and fearful reactions she’d seen when they’d been speaking about Oak Chips.  Were other ponies always as afraid of Knights as her parents had been?  They’d been visibly fearful, even when speaking to their own daughter.  She didn’t want to remember the nervousness she’d seen in their faces, or in their voices.  She never wanted to see that again, but maybe it wasn’t avoidable.

“Excuse me?” she asked, flagging down one of the sailors.  She was curious about something, and wanted to test a grim hypothesis.  She watched carefully as he turned, his eyes narrowed, eyebrows raised in annoyance, until they fell upon her robes.  Suddenly the spark of frustration slid from his eyes, replaced by a sickening, obsequious smile.

“How can I serve, my lady?” the sailor twitched nervously.

“I was just wondering if you knew how long this trip would take,” Emberglow said.  She knew the question was completely banal, but she wasn’t after the information.  She was gauging his reactions.

“Um, just over two days, my lady.”  His eyes shifted to the deck of the ship, then back to her.

“I see.  Sorry to interrupt.”  She waved him back to his task, and he departed with relieved haste.

Of course, there were a million reasons he could have been nervous.  It was also entirely possible she was simply seeing things she expected to see.  Always before she’d noticed the respect and admiration the common ponies had shown to her as a Knight.  But now she saw the fear as well.  The righteous should have nothing to fear from the Saint’s Knights, but for the first time she understood why ponies might feel that way.  After all, she’d done nothing wrong, and she had still been accused of failure.  What must it be like for the common pony, who didn’t have the protection offered by the title of Knighthood?

It seemed like the railing of an airship was a good place for deep thoughts.  She let herself get lost in her own introspection as the airship sped away from her city, and she idly wondered if some other pony, somepony more poetic than she, could find some sort of metaphor or symbolism in the city slowly receding in the distance, sliding away from her.

For a moment, she thought about her younger self.  As a squire, and even before, there had been such a sense of clarity.  Oh, things like evil, heresy, ignorance and treachery certainly existed back then, sure.  But now she had faced those things in the real world, and it was… messy.  Friends could be traitors.  Kind ponies could be heretics.  Sometimes things just didn’t make sense.  Sometimes there wasn’t a clear answer to her questions.  It was like there was a gulf between the clarity offered by the teachings of the Saints, and the way things worked in the real world, and she was suddenly sharply nostalgic for a time when that gulf hadn’t existed.  

Everywhere around her, in fact, there were gulfs, growing valleys between Emberglow and her parents, between Emberglow and her friends, even between Emberglow and her foalhood beliefs.  That was not to say that her faith was wavering, but it was clear that she could no longer just believe the way she had as a foal.

There it was.  There was the metaphor somepony more poetic than she might have come up with a lot quicker.  She was leaving behind her foalhood sense of innocent pure faith as she left behind New Canterlot City.  

Emberglow thought about that for a moment, and then groaned as she smacked her forehead with her hoof.  It was probably best if she left the poetry to the poets.  


*   *   *   *   *


It took over two days to reach Outpost 192.  The old, unused roads in and around Manehatten scattered across the countryside like the dry, cracked bones of the dead city.  Soon enough it wasn’t just the dry bones of old roads that Emberglow could see among the trees, but buildings as well, husks of walls and stones long overgrown by the foliage around them.  At first they were rare, one or two every mile, but they slowly grew closer and densely packed.  There was a haze of something in the air the closer they grew to the city, and it became difficult to see more than a half mile or so away from their airship, but Emberglow could tell the ruins were growing closer.  

Finally the airship’s crew began to steer it into a tight spiraling descent, circling around a small collection of intact, semi-permanent wooden buildings with metal roofs.  There were also a few tents set up as well.  Emberglow could see the symbol of the Mystics, the six-pointed star of Saint Twilight Sparkle, painted on the roof of the largest of the more permanent structures.

There were several soldiers there waiting for the Knights to disembark.  With a start, Emberglow recognized Sergeant Arrow from Strike Squad Epsilon, speaking with Gearsmith.  The last time she’d seen them had been nearly two weeks ago, on the airship back from their disastrous recall from Port Luminescence.  It was quite the pleasant surprise; if Squad Epsilon was here, that meant Steadfast Word had been able to intercede on the marines’ behalf in order to clear them in Hollybright’s investigation.  And if Gearsmith and Arrow were here, then Gadget was probably here as well.

Emberglow tried not to think about how happy that thought made her.

Emberglow waved to the two marines, who waved back.  She had been about to trot over to speak with them when she saw the glow of spellcasting from near the bottom of the docking platform stairs.  It was Brightblade, the last of the Knights to disembark, painting a voice amplification spell in midair.

“Knights, we will be meeting in the command building in twenty minutes.  It’s the largest building in the center there,” the Knight Mystic said, his amplified voice blasting over the ambient noise and bustle of a small military camp.  He pointed at the building in question with one hoof.  “We’ll be meeting in the mess hall.  Before then, take a moment to make sure your armor and weapons have arrived and been unloaded.  Any questions?”  Nopony said anything, and Brightblade nodded and marched off towards the building he had indicated.  Emberglow was still watching him depart when a hoof tapped her on the shoulder.

“Lady Emberglow?” came a familiar voice, and she turned to see Gadget with a little lurch of her stomach.  There was both joy and apprehension in the young marine’s expression, and her eyes gazed searchingly at Emberglow’s.  Emberglow smiled, unable to hide her own relief that Gadget had survived unscathed from her interrogation by the Mystics.  And the other marines in Squad Epsilon as well, of course.  “It’s good to see you,” Gadget said.

“You too,” Emberglow said, giving the other mare a quick, one hoofed hug, which Gadget returned.  A quick hug was safe, right?  “I wasn’t expecting you guys to be here.  Steadfast didn’t say anything about it.”

“Steadfast?” Gadget asked.

“A Knight Mystic.  Friend of mine.  I, uh, kinda asked him to intervene to make sure Hollybright wasn’t giving you guys too much of a hard time.”

“That was you?” Gadget asked.  “Thanks.  You don’t know—“ she suddenly sucked in a deep breath, her ears twitching.  “Um, it was stressful.  It’s kinda why we got assigned here, too.  Don’t you have—“

“Oh, right.  Somewhere to be,” Emberglow said.  “We’ll catch up later.”

It only took a few minutes to verify that her armor and spear, safely packed in a crate, were unloaded from the airship, before she followed the rest of the Knights into the mess hall.  The room was empty of all but Knights, each one dressed in their robes.  There were two rows of long tables lined with benches for the ponies that lived full time at the outpost.  

Brightblade stood at the head of one of the tables, with a number of maps and diagrams before him .  Sitting in various spots around the table were the Knights, most of whom she’d met on the airship down to the outpost.  There was one unfamiliar mare, though, dressed in the same white robes as her, who drew her eye.

Lady Bitterroot was an earth pony mare with nearly as many scars as she had wrinkles.  Her light brown coat reminded Emberglow of the crinkled brown paper bags that foals sometimes packed their school lunches in, and her mane was silver with age.  Her most prominent scar was a matched trio of claw marks that just barely tugged at the left corner of her lips, sliding down to her chin in three even lines.  She gave Emberglow a smile and a silent nod as Emberglow approached the table.

“Everypony here?  Good.  Anypony have problems with their gear arriving?” Brightblade began.  Nopony spoke up, and most of the Knights shook their heads.  “Also good.  I’m sure all of you have read the dossier that my Order provided.  I also know that some of you spoke with Sir Steadfast, my superior, about the mission details.  I’ll not waste time going over what you should all already know.

“Our motic sensors at this outpost are not precise enough to pinpoint an exact location for our target, but we have it narrowed down to a general area.”  The Knight Mystic pointed at a photograph, where a ten block square area had been photographed from high altitude.  “This area is called the Central Hill by those ponies who have scouted Manehatten.  It apparently used to be a gigantic outdoor park in the city.  The hill is not truly natural; most of it sits atop chunks of destroyed buildings.  In addition, Central Hill contains several entrances to the Manehatten Caves, a labyrinth of natural and pony-built caves that make no sense and are stuffed full of mutated horrors.  Those horrors are known to come out and stalk the city, mostly at night.

“We also know the heretics of the Discordant often haunt Manehatten.  They are no friends of the mutant creatures, which hold just as much danger for them as they do for us.  However, there is something that keeps bringing them back to these ruins.  It is to watch for heretic activity that the Mystics set up this outpost, after all.  We should be prepared to fight not only the Diarchs-forsaken creatures lurking in the ruins, but our own fallen brothers and sisters, as well.

“Because the ruins are so densely overgrown and crawling with dangers, I have decided it would be most efficient for us to enter the area around the Hill by air.  We will be boarding a Hummingbird Class airship, much smaller and faster than the Albatross Class vessels you usually see for transport and shipping, such as the one you all flew in on. 

“The airship will approach our landing zone at as high an altitude as possible, and we will drop in from above with parachutes, for most of us.”  He glanced at the two pegasus Knights in attendance.  “Once on the ground, we will establish and fortify a base camp, and Lady Joyful Sound here will begin scanning for our motic anomaly.  Once closer to the source, more delicate and precise instrumentation should be able to give us a better idea of what we’re looking for, and where it is.  Any questions so far?”  

Once again, nopony spoke up.  “Great.  Our itinerary goes like this.  Tomorrow we will be training everypony in the use of parachutes.  Even you pegasi; if something goes wrong in the air, I want you two to know how to operate one for an injured or unconscious teammate.  The afternoon we will do combat drills, see if we can figure out how to work together as a unit.  Our last member, Barium Ion of the Jubilant, has been delayed and will arrive in two days.  He’ll be arriving onboard our Hummingbird, and we’ll depart as soon as possible.  For this afternoon, I’m going to be taking the time to meet with a few of you to go over your specific roles for this mission.  If there is nothing else, you are dismissed until tomorrow morning.  Dinner will be here in the mess hall at five p.m.”

The ponies began to depart, and the Knight Radiant, Bitterroot, moved over as if to speak with Emberglow when Brightblade spoke again.

“Knight Private Emberglow, I’d like to speak with you first, please,” the Knight Mystic said, his voice commanding.  Bitterroot glanced at their commanding officer, looking a bit annoyed, then shrugged.  Emberglow felt the disappointment as well; with how Steadfast had spoken of the old veteran, she was quite eager to meet the mare herself.  Sighing, she walked over to Brightblade, who motioned to a door off of the mess hall that led to a hallway.  

Brightblade led her to a room empty of everything but a single folding table, piled with files Emberglow recognized as personnel reports on each of the Knights in the team.  There were two seating cushions on either side of the table.  Brightblade sat down on one side, Emberglow on the other.

“Emberglow, as you know, you’re going to be working under Bitterroot to oversee the medical needs of the marines.”  The stallion’s voice was cold and professional, and his face pulled into a sneering frown.  “We have two ground based teams, and one elite pegasus scout team.  Each team has its own medic, and you are their commanding officer.  You report to Bitterroot and myself.  In any conflict of orders you follow mine over hers.  Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” Emberglow said automatically.

“Good.  You should also know that I will be watching you closely this entire mission,” Brightblade said.  Emberglow couldn’t help but stare at him.  It wasn’t her imagination; there was something antagonistic about his behavior.  She wasn’t about to let it pass without asking, at least.

“Sir, is there something wrong?” Emberglow asked cautiously.  Brightblade snorted.

“You tell me, Knight Private,” Brightblade said, his tail flicking absently with frustration.  “I’ve been assigned possibly one of the most important missions of my career, and I’ve been saddled with a potential liability in my team just because somepony happens to be friends with my boss.”

“Liability?” Emberglow asked, ears pinning back as she leaned away from the stallion.  “What do you—“

“You heard what I said, Knight Private,” Brightblade narrowed his eyebrows at her.

“Sir, I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I promise I’m not!” Emberglow cried.

“Really?” Brightblade said, the sarcasm clear in his tone.  “Let’s look at the facts, Knight Private,” he held up a hoof as if ready to count off his points.  “One.  You are a known associate of a convicted heretic.  Two.  You were closely involved in an incident involving a Knight going rogue.  Three.  While still under investigation for number two, you decided, for whatever reason, to question a legitimate Mystic investigation, sticking your muzzle into something that was none of your concern.  You even had the temerity to involve your friend, the Vigilant.”

“I—“ Emberglow stuttered.  “But… none of that was…” Her eyes were wide with shock as she stared at the stallion.  He ignored her discomfiture.

“Despite all of that, you somehow amazingly have Steadfast Word’s trust.  But I’m not so easily fooled, Knight Private.  Maybe you’re not lying, maybe Steadfast’s instincts are correct, and you’re exactly what you appear to be.  But I’m not so optimistic.  I don’t believe in coincidence, and you’ve been involved in a few too many incidents for me to trust you.”

“Sir, I promise you.  That business with my—“ she was about to say friend, but changed with only a brief hesitation.  “—acquaintance Oak Chips.  I simply wanted to know—“

“You don’t need to know anything,” Brightblade said, slashing the air with his hoof.  “You’re nobody to this investigation, or you were until you butted in.  But you don’t even seem to get the worst part.”

“Sir, please.  Whatever Oak Chips did, I don’t support or condone.  I just wanted to know—“

“And that’s it, Knight!” Brightblade yelled.  “Your need to know is a need to question the wisdom of the Knights Mystic.  When you question us, you question the Saints themselves!  You’re so busy thinking about what you want that you don’t even realize how deep into heresy you are!”

“Sir, what are you talking about?” Emberglow asked, becoming frantic.  She could tell how angry the other Knight was, and she could feel herself rising to meet his anger with her own.  “If you’re so convinced I’m a liability, why am I still galloping about free, and not still being questioned?”  Brightblade glared at her, teeth clenched and ears pinned back.  “Why was I cleared in Hollybright’s investigation?”

“Ponies can make mistakes,” Brightblade said defensively.

“Like you, judging me right now?” Emberglow snapped back.  Brightblade flinched.  “I assume Steadfast ordered you to take me, right?  And you followed that order despite your misgivings?”  The stallion said nothing, and Emberglow inhaled, trying to calm down.  “Then we have no choice.  Watch me, sir.  Keep your eye out for any hint of treachery.  I have nothing to hide, and I have no problems letting my actions speak for me.”

Brightblade’s eyes narrowed, and he leaned forward intently.  Emberglow stood her ground, meeting the other Knight’s eyes with what she desperately hoped was a determined, fearless look, even though she was sure her hooves were shaking.  Finally Brightblade backed off with a snort.

“Fine.  I’ll give you that chance.  I’ll watch you for any sign of heresy. Saints protect us all if you’re lying to me.”

“My only wish is to do my duty, sir,” Emberglow said, trying to keep her voice even and soft.  “To honor Lady Rarity and all the Saints, to keep my team alive, and to follow your orders.”

“Very well, Knight Emberglow.  Dismissed.”  The Knight looked down at his personnel files, opening one up to read the papers inside.  It was a blunt and obvious signal as he rudely ignored Emberglow, who stood up and left the room.  She’d been right earlier; her hooves were shaking.  She closed the door behind her as she left; she didn’t want to see Brightblade any more.  Suddenly Lofty Tale’s reluctance, her parents’ nervousness and fear, and even Steadfast Word’s warnings made so much more sense.  Emberglow had no idea that Brightblade had been involved in the investigation of her friend, or that any of the inquisitors involved would be so angered by her simple query.  It had seemed like such a harmless thing to wish to know her friend’s fate.  Clearly it was much more complicated than that.

Emberglow left the command building, suddenly realizing that she had no idea where her quarters were.  She looked around for somepony familiar, somepony who would know.  Really she was hoping to see Gadget; a few minutes speaking with her friend would go a long way to clear her head of stress after that bizarre interview with Sir Brightblade. A bit aimless, she left the building to find Bitterroot waiting for her.

“Heya, sister,” the older scarred mare said, holding out a hoof for Emberglow to shake.  After her hostile meeting with Brightblade, the open friendliness on Bitterroot’s face was a welcome relief.  “Nice to meetchya.  I’m Bitterroot, but I’m sure you knew that already.”

“Yes,” Emberglow said, a bit stunned at the older mare’s energy.  “I, uh, I’m Emberglow.  Nice to meet you, too.”  She shook the light brown Knight’s hoof.

“So.  Lemme show you where we’ll be sleeping, and we can chat.  There’s only enough cabins to house the ponies that are staged here a bit more permanently, so we’re in tents.  You mind sharing?”

“Not at all,” Emberglow said.

“Good,” Bitterroot nodded.  She trotted off to the south, and Emberglow followed.  There was a collection of tents set up at perfectly spaced intervals.  “One of the benefits of being a Knight instead of a marine.  We don’t have to set up our own tent.”  The mare cackled.  “So, tell me about yourself.”

“Um, there’s not much to tell,” Emberglow began, but Bitterroot was not about to let her hide behind modesty.  She asked her all about her life, from her foalhood, her parents, and her experiences so far as a Knight.  Emberglow didn’t go into too much detail especially about things like Bubblegum, but she found she quite enjoyed speaking with the old veteran.  For her part, Bitterroot was a fantastic listener, full of humor and charm.  While they spoke, Bitterroot showed her where they would be sleeping, a simple canvas tent with wooden poles. There were two bedrolls already set up inside.  Emberglow unloaded her saddlebags by one of the two bedrolls; the other already had Bitterroot’s personal effects on top.  

“What about you?” Emberglow finally asked when Bitterroot ran out of questions about her.  “I only know that my friend Steadfast speaks highly of you.”

“Steadfast?  That old nag?” Bitterroot laughed.  “Have you ever seen the scar he’s got on his right front leg?”

“Um, no?” Emberglow said, confused.

“Exactly,” the veteran giggled.  “What about his missing eye?  Or his tragically shortened tail?  Or even all those innards he’s missing?”

“I guess you’ve healed him a bit, then?” Emberglow asked.

“When we were both younger, he was assigned to a team hunting down deserters fleeing to the Griffon kingdoms.  I was his medic.  He’s a good pony, for a Mystic.”  Bitterroot said.  Emberglow tried not to cringe, suddenly reminded of her circumstances here at the Outpost.  She thought she’d hidden her reaction well, but Bitterroot glanced at her sharply.  “Everything okay?”

“I uh, don’t think Brightblade likes me very much,” Emberglow said.  When Bitterroot pushed, she spilled the entire story to the older mare, this time even filling in the story of her last mission’s ending, and Bubblegum’s criminal indiscretion.  Bitterroot nodded sympathetically the whole time.

“You’re new at being a Knight, and you grew up in the capital, right?” Bitterroot asked.  Emberglow nodded.  “Look, I don’t wanna say you’re a bit, erm, under-experienced, but this is kinda par for the course for dealing with some of the Mystics.  They see heresy in every question, sometimes.  Even decent sorts like Steadfast get a little weird about stuff, so you just hafta be careful.”

“I know that now,” Emberglow said.  “You sound like you have experience.”

“Only forty years as a Knight, young lady!” Bitterroot said.  The two of them spoke more, with the older veteran sharing stories of her time in battle, griffons and ponies she’d fought, even where she got her claw scar on her muzzle.  Oddly enough, not from a griffon as Emberglow had assumed, but from a pony wearing a wicked set of metal claws.  Emberglow used the conversation to feel out her new superior officer; it seemed like Bitterroot wanted more of a partner than a subordinate.  This worked just fine for Emberglow.  If Brightblade was going to be antagonistic, at least she would have a safe haven in Bitterroot.

Later that night, the Knights and marines in the outpost shared dinner together, and Emberglow got to hear the whole story of what had happened back in New Canterlot City from Gadget and Gearsmith.  The marines of Squad Epsilon had been spared the rigors of an intense Mystic investigation due to the intervention of both Sir Steadfast and Sir Delver.  When Steadfast asked Delver to join his expedition to Manehatten to lead the Adamant who would be going, he had asked to pick his own marine squads to support the Knights.  Between his request and Emberglow’s endorsement, it had been apparently enough to have the entire marine squad cleared of suspicion.  Although, it was clear that both Gadget and Gearsmith were rather wary of Sir Brightblade.  Neither of them said anything, but Emberglow got the impression, from their nervous expressions and pinned ears whenever he was brought up, that he’d had a similar talk with the members of Squad Epsilon.  Neither of them wanted to talk about it, so Emberglow let it drop.

That night Emberglow struggled to sleep.  She’d never slept in a tent before; camping was not something her family had done much.  There wasn’t much budget for family vacations, especially with a shop to run and very narrow profit margins, as well as no other employees to cover.  She imagined in other circumstances she’d have been excited, but Emberglow found she just couldn’t sleep.  Excitement for the upcoming mission, elation at seeing her friend Gadget again, a nervous desire to impress Lady Bitterroot, and growing dread about Brightblade and his warnings kept bouncing around in her head in rambunctious circles. 

 It also didn’t help much that Bitterroot snored lightly in her sleep.


*   *   *   *   *


“It should have been here,” Brightblade snarled while the Knights were just sitting down for breakfast,  “hours ago!”  His baleful gaze swept over the assembled ponies, as if somehow it was their fault that the airship had failed to arrive at its scheduled time. His gaze lingered a little too long on her, but he made no accusations.

“It is concerning,” Delver said placatingly.  “Perhaps we should send out scouts.”

It was beginning to be a common pattern.  Brightblade was very new to command, a fact that was obvious to everypony that spent any time with him.  Delver, despite being more experienced, was under his command because of the nature of the mission.  Emberglow was becoming even more impressed at Delver’s gentle way of offering suggestions rather than starting arguments with Brightblade.

“Yes, Delver, good idea.”  Brightblade nodded.  “Send out four scouts as soon as possible.”

“Yes, sir,” Delver nodded.  He stood to go issue orders to the scouts, leaving his breakfast still mostly untouched.  A few minutes later he returned.  “Four scouts are following the trail the airship could have taken to get here.  They have orders to fly for three hours, then return here if they’ve found nothing.”  Brightblade opened his mouth, consternation obvious in his face.  “Any further and we’ll need to supply them for a much longer trip.”  Brightblade closed his mouth with an annoyed grunt.

Emberglow tried to spend the time after breakfast with the three medics she would be overseeing.  All three were combat veterans, with a wealth of experience in the field.   There was Cliffjumper, a grey-furred pegasus stallion attached to the scout fire team .  There was Tumbleweed,  a tan-colored earth pony who had been assigned to Fire Team Corona.  Finally there was Sea Star, an aqua-maned, white-furred earth pony mare who had taken over as medic for Fire Team Epsilon.

Mostly Emberglow wanted to see how they dealt with waiting.  The odd combination of tension, fear, anticipation, and boredom were taking their toll on everypony, even her.  

It was many hours later, during lunch, that they finally received word of the missing airship.  A scout burst into the mess hall in a rush of air.

“We need a medic,” she cried out, panting.  “Badly wounded ponies!”  Emberglow was only a split second behind Bitterroot as both Radiant leapt to their hooves and rushed to follow the scout.

“You two, head to my tent and fetch my and Emberglow’s armor.  Scratch that, just the rune gauntlets.  Gallop!” Bitterroot ordered as she ran, pointing at two of the marines who were eating in the mess hall.  To their credit, neither one hesitated to dash out of the mess hall to follow those orders.  “Where are they?” she asked the pegasus scout as the three of them galloped out of the mess hall.

“Coming in behind me…” the scout managed,  “Sent me ahead to prepare.”  She spoke in quick bursts around her gasping breaths.

“Emberglow, can you fly ahead and assess the situation?  Bring them into the sparring ground.  Scout, which direction?”  The scout pointed, and Emberglow launched herself into the air.

“They’re not far behind!” the scout shouted to her as she pumped her wings.  Indeed, she was sure she could see a few specks in motion on the horizon.  Flapping as hard as she could, she dashed off in the direction of the approaching pegasi.  

It didn’t take long to see that the incoming flyers were in bad shape.  Two of them had a makeshift stretcher tied between them with a limp form within.  A third scout had another earth pony slumped on his back.  There was a fourth pegasus, not dressed in a scout uniform, that appeared to be covered in minor lacerations and bruises.  She was barely managing to keep up with the others.

“Keep it up, you’re almost there,” Emberglow called out as she approached, looping so that she fell in right behind the injured pegasus.  “Lady Bitterroot is ready to heal your injuries.  Who is the worst?”

“The sailor in the stretcher,” one of the scouts panted.  “Broken ribs, maybe a cracked skull.  I’m not a medic,” he confessed.  Emberglow winged over to see if she could see herself.  The earth pony was unconscious, his face twisted with pain as he was rushed along in their makeshift transportation.  It was too difficult to see, but he was clearly in bad shape, with several lacerations in addition to the broken bones the scout had mentioned.

“What about him?” she asked about the earth pony riding on the scout’s back.

“Two broken legs, maybe a broken jaw,” the scout replied.  The earth pony in question was conscious, and he nodded drunkenly, clinging to the pegasus he was riding with his two good front legs.  Emberglow could see the back two were oddly angled.  She swooped in as close as she could without getting into the pegasus scout’s airspace, taking a closer look at the fractures.  One leg was damp with blood, and she could see a tiny jut of bone poking through his skin and fur.  The other fracture wasn’t nearly as bad, but she could clearly see the displaced and bulging flesh of a break that was only one step shy of a compound fracture.

“And you?” Emberglow asked the wounded pegasus, the only one of the wounded sailors flying under her own power.

“I’m fine,” she said dismissively, though the pain and exertion of exercise clearly laid heavily on her from her strained expression and voice.

“No time for false bravado,” Emberglow said.  “What are your injuries?”  She tried to make her voice firm, like an order.  The sailor pegasus cringed.

“Uh, cuts and bruises.  My head hurts, and I think I’m gonna puke,” she said.  “Honestly, make sure the other two are okay first, please,”

“That’s the plan,” Emberglow said.  In no time, the pegasi reached the sparring field, where Bitterroot was waiting with the Marine medics.  Sea Star was holding Emberglow’s rune gauntlet, ready for her to equip as soon as she landed.  She stumbled a little as she touched down, not bothering to slow down before landing.  She idly noted that most of the Knights had gathered and were waiting a few paces back, including Brightblade standing near the front.

“Patient in the stretcher is the worst, possible head injury, broken ribs, potential internal damage.  The one on the scout’s back has broken legs and maybe facial injuries.  The pegasus may have a concussion.”  Emberglow called out to Bitterroot as soon as her hooves hit the dirt of the sparring ground.  Bitterroot gave a quick nod before dashing towards the worst of the patients on the stretcher, her hoof already raised and tracing a diagnosis rune in the air.  

The marine medics surged forward after Bitterroot, and Sea Star brought Emberglow’s gauntlet over and helped her put it on. The other two approached the least wounded of the three sailors, the pegasus who had flown in on her own power.

“Sailor, what happened?” Brightblade called out, trying to approach. Bitterroot shot him a sideways glance and shook her head.

“Not now, sir,” she said sternly, finishing her first spell, a simple diagnosis spell.  

“But I need to know…”

“Shut up, sir, and stay back!” Bitterroot snapped, her hoof tracing runes in a blur.  “You don’t need to know horseapples until I say so!  Medic’s orders!”

“But…”

“Sir!” Emberglow called out, coming to Bitterroot’s aid.  “Knight Regulation Book, Chapter seven subsection three.  When it comes to the medical care of ponies she’s responsible for, Lady Bitterroot outranks you.”  It was a little used rule, not something that came up frequently, but if there was any book about Knights, Emberglow had read it.  It was the sort of thing that Brightblade could fight, if he wanted to, but which might end in an inquiry if he did. “We’ll let you know as soon as they’re ready to answer questions, sir.”

Emberglow could see the indecision in his eyes, before he finally stepped back with a scowl and a reluctant nod.   Relieved, she turned her back on her commanding officer, focusing on the earth pony who’d been riding on the back of the pegasus scout.  

One of the marine medics had helped him off the back of the pegasus he’d been riding, and he was spread out on a bedroll that had been spread out on the ground.  One quick diagnosis spell of her own, and she knew what she was dealing with.  The pony was conscious, barely, and he watched her with eyes glazed with pain.  Both of his rear legs were broken, and his jaw was bruised, but at least it wasn't broken or dislocated.  She glanced over at Tumbleweed and Cliffjumper, the two medics working on the wounded pegasus; the sailor mare was covered in a blanket, being treated for shock, but otherwise appeared fine.

“I’m going to need help setting his legs before I can heal the bones,” she said to them.  They nodded to each other, and Tumbleweed stayed with the pegasus while Cliffjumper trotted over quickly.  Sea Star, the one who had helped Emberglow with her gauntlet, rushed over to stand to the side of the patient, near Emberglow.

“This is gonna hurt,” Cliffjumper said to the patient.  “Probably more than when you broke them in the first place.  The pretty Knight here is gonna set your legs.”  Emberglow tried not to notice what he’d said about her.  It was inappropriate, sure, but the wounded soldier could probably use something to distract him.  “I’m gonna need you to bite down on this,” he presented the patient with a rolled up bandage.  “If you wanna scream, that’s fine too.  It’ll be over as quick as we can make it.  You want us to wait in between legs, or do ‘em both at the same time?”

“Get it over with,” the sailor rasped, and bit down hard on the offered bandage with a wince of pain.  The medic nodded, wrapping his forehooves around the patient’s barrel and cradling the patient’s head on his chest.  Sea Star secured the patient’s lower half so Emberglow could get to work setting the bones.  The sailor’s fur was matted and damp with sweat and blood from dozens of small cuts; Emberglow was suddenly sympathetic of Brightblade’s curiosity for what had happened to these poor soldiers.  But the care came first.  She grasped the poor stallion’s hoof in her own, preparing to pull the two fractured bones into alignment so that her healing magic could knit the bone together.

“This is the first time I’ve set a live bone,” she whispered as quietly as she could to the closest medic, Sea Star.  Her eyes found Emberglow’s, staring at her sharply.  “I’m fine.  I’ve practiced quite a bit.  Just… tell me before I do something catastrophically wrong, okay?” Emberglow told her.  She hoped she sounded much more confident than she felt.  The medic nodded, her eyes focused on Emberglow’s hooves as she jerked the bone into place.  The patient’s guttural scream was muffled by the rolled up bandage.  It went on way too long, and Emberglow was starting to worry when the medic reached down, feeling at the break with her hooves.  She didn’t say anything, but her firm nod was a good boost of confidence going into the second set.  With a similar motion, she caught the second broken leg in her hooves and set that one as well.  The patient, once tense and jerking, suddenly went limp.

“Is he—“ Emberglow began.

“Out cold.  Still breathing, Lady Emberglow.  You can cast your spells,” the medic at the patient’s head replied.  Emberglow nodded, raising her hoof and tracing the runes over the first leg.

Healing magic was never as simple as it seemed in the adventure stories Emberglow had read as a foal.  Each fault, each illness, each injury, had to be attended to individually.  Each leg would require its own spell to heal.  In addition, healing was both uncomfortable and draining for the patient.  It was good that the sailor was unconscious already; nopony enjoyed the sensation of weeks or even months of healing, soreness, muscle and bone growth, and itching, all compressed into a few seconds.  She finished the four runes that she would need to nearly instantly knit the bones and realign the muscles and tendons.  The glowing white writing, floating in midair, shrunk and condensed around Emberglow’s hoof as the spell battery finished powering the magic.  She then gently rubbed her glowing hoof against the injured pony’s first broken leg.  She felt the tissues and bones moving and rearranging underneath her hoof as the healing magic did its work.  When it was done, she checked the lit gems on her spell battery; one of the three green gems had gone dark, and the second was blinking quickly.

“Check to make sure it’s healed properly while I tend to the next one,” she ordered to the medics, who hurried to follow her orders.  Again she traced her gauntleted hoof through the air, dragging glowing white runes above the wounded pony.  She barely noticed the marine medic carefully prodding and massaging at the bone and muscle of the first leg she had healed.  Once again, she touched her glowing hoof to the wound and once again felt the flesh, bone, skin, and fur reshape itself into its proper form.  She checked her spell battery again; only one green gem remained lit, blinking slowly.  There was enough for one, perhaps two more powerful healing spells.  “He’ll be fine.  How’s the pegasus?”

“Only minor cuts and a small concussion, ma’am,” Tumbleweed replied.  Emberglow nodded; she’d heal the concussion if her spells weren’t needed on the worst of the patients.  

“Bitterroot?  Need any help?” Emberglow asked, glancing over at where the worst of the three still rested on the makeshift stretcher.

“Do you know the spell to inflate a lung?” Bitterroot asked, managing the question while still mid-cast, her hoof tracing white glow.  Emberglow nodded, then realized the other Knight wasn’t even looking her way.

“Yes, ma’am,” she said, trotting over.  “Which lung?”

“Left.  I’ve already healed the rib that was puncturing it.”

“On it,” Emberglow said.  Because each type of injury required it’s own spell, there were hundreds of different healing rune combinations.  Most Radiants even carried around their own version of a cheat sheet, a small booklet with the combinations listed.  Maybe it showed some arrogance, but Emberglow had never needed it. She had memorized them all.

The spell to inflate a lung, knitting the delicate tissues that made up the essential organ, was one of the more difficult and costly spells. The sensation on Emberglow’s end was much different than knitting a broken bone.  She didn’t feel the tissues or organs moving about underneath the pony’s skin, but his breathing did become smoother and less jerky.

After all the busy chaos, there were two unconscious but mostly healthy ponies and two tired but satisfied Radiants with mostly empty rune gauntlets.  The third sailor, the pegasus, was ordered to a tent to rest while the medics enlisted the help of a few marines to gently transport the two sleeping sailors to their own tent.  Emberglow took a minute to take stock of the situation and the ponies who had gathered around to watch.  None of the scouts were present, nor was Brightblade, but many of the other Knights and marines had assembled.  She walked over to Delver, who was with those watching.

“Brightblade?” she asked him softly, trying not to sound nervous.  The adrenaline of the moment was passing, and now she was beginning to feel anxious about confronting him earlier.  She cringed inside remembering the way she’d defied him, in front of all of the assembled ponies.  Surely that wasn’t the best thing to have happen after he had already expressed his doubts in her.

“Somepony suggested that rather than sit here and simmer in his anger, perhaps he could debrief the scouts while you and Bitterroot worked on the wounded ponies.  It seemed like the best use of everypony’s time,” Delver said flatly.  She looked at her former commander.  His lips were tight and his ears tense.  Delver’s eyes found hers, and she saw disapproval, before his expression mellowed into a flat, emotionless mask.  “He’s new to command, Emberglow.  We’ll have to be patient.”  There was a twist in his lips right at the end of his sentence.

“Any advice?” she asked.

“Don’t yell at him in front of the entire camp?” Delver said, smirking.  Emberglow tried to scowl, but let out a small whimper instead.

“Did I mess up too bad?” she asked, hating how pathetic she sounded.  Delver shook his head.

“You’ll be fine.  Brightblade was wrong, and I think he knows it.  If he doesn’t, Bitterroot will tell him.  He’ll probably be cranky at you for a while.”

“Crankier, you mean,” Emberglow grumped.

“You’ll weather this storm, Emberglow,” Delver said, patting her on the withers with one hoof.  “Lay low for a bit, don’t get in his way, and you’ll be fine.”

Brightblade wasn’t the only pony in the camp who was desperate to know what had happened.  The other Knights pressed Emberglow and Bitterroot with questions about what the scouts had found.  Unfortunately, Emberglow didn’t know any more than they did.  All three scouts were sequestered with Brightblade, being debriefed, and the sailors were still recovering.  Whatever had happened was a disaster; the Lightning Dust had been carrying a crew of ten ponies, including Sir Barium Ion.  Brightblade finally emerged after an hour locked away with the scouts to announce an immediate meeting with all of the Knights.  Fortunately for Emberglow, he appeared too distracted to take her to task for the way she’d ordered him out of the way earlier.

Back in the mess hall, the Knights gathered together.  The three pegasi scouts were already there.  Brightblade had made sure the three of them had water and a snack to regain their energy after their long, hard flight.  All three were munching salads and drinking liberally from large mugs.

“Lightning Dust was attacked.  Barium Ion is dead,” Brightblade said with no preamble once the last of the Knights had sat down in the mess hall.  It was a testament to the professionalism of the assembled Knights that nopony whispered or muttered at the revelation.  “These three scouts managed to pull the only survivors out of the wreckage.  We don’t have the full picture yet,” he scowled at Bitterroot and Emberglow as he said it, “but as soon as the three sailors wake up we’ll have a better idea of what happened.  From what they told our scouts, however, it was heretics.  Probably even heretic Knights.”

That got everypony’s attention.  They all knew it was a good chance that there would be some form of heretic presence in Manehatten, but nopony had openly spoken of them until now.  

“On top of that, we have no airship now for our drop,” Brightblade said.  “I’ve sent a dragonfire scroll to Steadfast Word, asking for a second ship, but that could take as long as a week to arrange.  Even if they left right now, this second, they wouldn’t get here until late tomorrow.  It looks like we’ll be waiting on our plots for a while no matter what.  

"Unfortunately, that means we can’t make any specific plans until I hear back from my superiors.  So for now you’re all at liberty.  Bitterroot and Emberglow, I’ll expect regular updates on your three patients.  Please inform me as soon as any of them are available to speak with me.”  The words were polite, even though his expression was twisted as he said it.  It seemed as if they were all going to pretend that Brightblade’s confrontation with the two Radiants would be ignored for now.  Emberglow was fine with this.  

“Joyful Noise, I realize we’re too far away for your equipment to pick up much detail from the city, but I’d like you keeping an eye out for any unusual motic activity, either in the ruins or anywhere else.  I don’t think a little setback will stop us from pursuing our mission, so be prepared to leave at any time.  If we have to, we’ll go in on hoof, though I’d rather avoid that possibility.  I’ll let you all know as soon as I get word from the Capital.”

“Sir, if you’d like to come with us, we’ll check on them right now,” Bitterroot said. “The two we healed are probably still asleep, but the pegasus might be able to speak with you, if you take things slowly and gently.”

“I assume you want to be there to keep an eye on things?” the Mystic said.

“We will be there, yes,” Bitterroot said, and Emberglow tried not to cringe at the hint of a challenge in the veteran’s tone. She didn't need to draw even more of Brightblade's ire.

“That shouldn’t be a problem,” Brightblade said.  The three of them left the command center while the other Knights milled out, murmuring amongst themselves about the recent events.

The outpost was not usually this populated, so it didn’t have a dedicated medical tent.  The three medics had set up the wounded in their own tent, and Tumbleweed stood outside, ready to deflect any curious or intrusive ponies who wanted a hint at what was going on.  When he saw the three Knights approaching, he saluted.

“The two earth ponies are asleep, but the pegasus is sitting up.  I gave her some water and an ice pack for her head injury, but she’s awake enough to answer questions.  Please don’t wake the other two if you can help it.”

“Thank you, Tumbleweed.  Please continue keeping anypony else out,” Bitterroot said, and the three Knights entered into the large tent.  It was dark, with barely enough light to maneuver around the sleeping sailors to the cot where the sailor pegasus sat up, holding an ice pack to her head while she sipped from a cup.  Brightblade let the Radiant veteran approach first.

“Hello, sailor.  What’s your name?”  Bitterroot asked.

“H-Heliotrope, my lady,” the sailor stammered.  “My f-friends call me Helie.”

“Well, Helie, how are you feeling?” Bitterroot asked.

“My head still hurts, but I don’t feel nauseous anymore,” Heliotrope replied, her voice shaky.

“Sir Brightblade here would like to know a bit about what happened,” Bitterroot suggested gently.  Heliotrope looked up at the Mystic, her expression pensive, then nodded, winced, and nodded more slowly.

“Y-yeah.  Yeah!  I’m fine to talk for a bit,” the sailor said, her eyes darting nervously between the three Knights.  “I, um, don’t want to let them win.  You’re gonna get them back, right?”

“How ‘bout you just start at the beginning?” Bitterroot suggested.  Heliotrope took a deep breath and began.

“It happened a couple of hours before the scouts showed up, I think.  It’s hard to keep track of time, I was knocked out for a bit after the crash.  We were heading here, making good time, when I saw somepony sitting on a cloud in our path.  There weren’t no other clouds, so I told Captain Northfrost and Sir Barium.  We got closer, only it weren’t somepony, but some griffon.”  She shook her head, her eyes distant, lost in a haze of fearful memory.

“Before we could get too close, he called out.  Had some sort of spell on him so we could hear him from a distance.  He said he knew where we were going, and said we had one chance to turn around.  ‘Manehatten’s sacred to us’, he said.  ‘Stay out or else.’  Sir Barium cast something and talked back at him, said ‘no,’ basically.  So the griffon shrugged and flew off.  Sir Barium kinda wanted to chase him, but I was the only pegasus onboard Lightning Dust, and I’m no fighter, so we just kept going.”  She looked ashamed at the admission.

“Couple of minutes later, the whole ship shook like something hit it hard from underneath.  There was a loud bang, an explosion.  I flew over the side to see what was going on, and there was a huge chunk of the hull missing, scarred and blackened.  Something was firing ordinance at us from the ground.  There was tons of smoke coming from the hull, and I saw Cablewright and Sweetsong go over the side, and they were spinning and falling, and I wasn’t fast enough…”  The sailor began to sob, bitter tears leaking out of clenched shut eyes as she pounded her free hoof against the bedroll.  “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t quick enough, I couldn’t catch either one of them…”

“Hey, hush, you need to calm down and relax as much as possible,” Bitterroot said soothingly.  She caught the sailor’s hoof in both of hers, gently stroking the hoof in a calming manner.  “You’re still injured, and you need to focus on healing yourself.  You’ll do that by relaxing and staying calm.”

“’Kay,” Heliotrope sniffed.

“Take your time, sailor,” Brightblade said, and Emberglow was shocked at how gentle his voice was.  “We can come back later if we have to.”

“No, it’s fine, I wanna… I wanna tell it.  So you can hit them back,” Heliotrope said, her ears laying back as she snarled.  “I flew back up to the ship after I failed to catch them in time, and it was a mess on deck.  We’d been hit by two more projectiles, and the balloon was leaking.  We were going down.  There were ponies I didn’t know on deck, pegasi with weapons in black clothes.  They’d killed some of the other sailors. I saw Captain Northwind was down, bleeding and not moving.  I could barely stand, the airship was shaking and rattling apart as it crumbled in midair.  Some of the black clothed pegasi were surrounding Sir Barium, poking at him with their spears.  He had his spear out, and was trying to cast something, and one of the bad guys tried to stop him with a spear thrust.”  By this point, Heliotrope’s entire body was trembling.  Bitterroot patted her comfortingly.

“I-I’m sorry, I’m not a fighter, I don’t really know what happened next, only I knew I had to stop the bad guy from, uh, stopping Sir Barium.  I leapt at him, trying to hit him with my hooves, and one of his friends swung his weapon at me, and he hit me with the back end of his spear.”  Heliotrope pointed with one hoof at a spot just below her left ear.  “My vision went kind of fuzzy and I felt myself fall to the deck.  I remember screams, and more falling, and then a big crash.  Next thing I knew one of your scouts was waking me up.”

“What happened to Sir Barium?” Brightblade asked.  Heliotrope shook her head, flinched again, and pressed the ice pack more firmly against her injured head.

“Um, I saw him after the scouts helped me up.  He was already dead,” she said, her eyes downcast.  “I’m sorry, sir.”

“Nothing to be sorry about.  You faced off against heretics and lived,” Bitterroot said.  “You’re not a soldier, but your first instinct was to go to the aid of a Knight.  You do the Saints honor with your courage.”

“It weren’t nothing special like that, my lady,” Heliotrope muttered.  “I’m no hero type.”

“The Saints don’t ask for perfection, only our best efforts,” Bitterroot said.  “You did what you could.”

“Too bad it didn’t mean nothing,” the sailor muttered, fresh tears leaking from her eyes.  “Sorry I couldn’t tell you much more.”

“Don’t let it concern you,” Brightblade said.  “You told me enough for now.  As soon as your fellow sailors wake up, I’m sure they’ll be able to fill in the details.  We’ll leave you to rest.”

“Yes, sir,” the sailor said obediently.  “Um, lady Radiant?  The young one?”

“Yes?” Emberglow asked, surprised to be addressed.  She’d said nothing for a reason, feeling like she didn’t want to intrude on the business of older, more experienced Knights.

“That was my fiancé you healed,” Heliotrope said, nodding towards the earth pony who’d had both legs broken.  “I tried to tell the idiot it was bad luck to propose to me right before we left on a mission, but Salt Spray said…” she sighed, clenching her eyes shut for a moment.  “…he said it was a milk run.  An easy mission, then back home.  The combat bonus would help fund our ceremony.  Thanks for saving him, my lady.”

“Uh, yes, sure,” Emberglow said uncomfortably.  She decided not to mention that none of her fiancé’s injuries were truly life threatening.  “He should be fine now, too.  Um, congratulations on your wedding.”  She slipped out of the tent with the other Knights, cursing her own awkwardness.  It didn’t help that Bitterroot let out a snort of amusement.

“’Congratulations on your wedding’?  Smooth, Emberglow,” the veteran said with a teasing bump of her shoulder.  Emberglow just grumbled back at her good-naturedly while Brightblade, with an annoyed glance at both Radiants, trotted off towards his own tent.