Chapter 17
Sir Brightblade
Received your note yesterday. New airship will be inbound within a month. Arrival time and date will follow. Do not attempt ingress by hoof. Continue observations from range and notify us of any change. Hold your position for now. We are sending pegasus couriers so that your Knights and soldiers can send and receive mail. Keep morale high, and be prepared to embark at any moment.
Sir Steadfast Word
1112 AF, Ruins of Manehatten
“Ponies, gather around. I have an announcement.” Brightblade’s magically amplified voice boomed throughout the Outpost, making the air vibrate with the sound. He was pacing back and forth, his tail swishing with agitation while Emberglow and the rest of the Knights and marines trotted over to the front door of the command building.
“I’ve received a scroll back from New Canterlot City. Our replacement airship may take some time to arrive. In the meantime, you are all required to be ready to leave at any moment.” He stopped speaking.
The entire camp was completely silent for a long, expectant moment.
“Was there... anything else, sir?” Delver prompted gently, breaking the silence. Brightblade huffed angrily.
“Other ponies have decided that morale would be best served if you had some contact with home while we waited,” he said, though his tone was clearly grudging. “Against my objections, you are allowed to write letters home, but you may not speak of anything that is going on here. I will be reading all letters before they are sent. Also, my superior in the Mystics, Sir Steadfast Word, will be reaching out to your friends and families to send letters here.”
“He wasn’t going to add that bit?” Bitterroot muttered under her breath, next to Emberglow. She shrugged.
“Do we have a timetable for the new airship, sir?” Delver asked. Brightblade shook his head.
“No. Headquarters didn’t seem fit to tell us.”
Emberglow’s eyebrows narrowed. That didn’t feel right. Why would Steadfast confirm that an airship was on the way, and not give a time? There was something Brightblade wasn’t telling them.
“He’s lying to us,” she surprised herself by whispering out loud. She was even more surprised when Bitterroot nodded.
“Yup. He doesn’t want us to know when we’re leaving. He doesn’t trust us, that’s for sure.” Bitterroot nudged her with a hoof. “Whatever, though, right? At least we’ll get mail. That’ll be great. I have a few grand-nephews back in Appleoosa who just started learning the alphabet. I’d love to hear from them.”
“Mail would be good for morale,” Emberglow admitted. The thought brought images of her parents to mind, and suddenly she missed the smell of fresh pancakes and strawberry syrup. Maybe she’d even hear from Lofty or Turquoise, if she didn’t write to them first. She hoped Steadfast had reached out to them.
They weren’t the only ones in the crowd who were murmuring, so Brightblade cleared his throat loudly for attention before continuing.
“I’ll be meeting with Delver and Bitterroot to come up with a schedule for the foreseeable future, but in the meantime, you are required to maintain a constant state of readiness. Until this afternoon, though, we have no plans, so you’re at liberty. Dismissed, ponies.”
“This meeting’s gonna be a mess,” Bitterroot whispered. “Wish me luck.”
“Good luck,” Emberglow said grimly as Bitterroot followed Delver and Brightblade into the command building. Suddenly she was at a loss as to what she should be doing. She glanced around at the crowd, and saw several ponies in the same boat as her, milling about and watching the closed door of the command building.
Most of the crowd began to disperse, wandering off to make use of their free time, but one of the marines in particular sought out Emberglow’s company.
“Emberglow! It’s so good to see you,” Gadget trotted over, laughing. Emberglow grinned. It had been a busy few days, and neither of them had been able to take much time to speak.
“I was so surprised to see that you and your dad were here,” Emberglow said.
“Pleasantly surprised, I hope?” Gadget smiled wryly.
“Of course.” Emberglow grinned back, nodding. “I was really worried about all of you, after…” She trailed off and glanced around.
“C’mon, we’ll go for a walk,” Gadget said, looking a bit nervous. Nopony was watching them, but talking about what had happened back at Port Luminescence in the open would certainly invite trouble. As they started to trot off together, however, Emberglow caught sight of Gearsmith, who looked displeased about something. Gadget didn’t seem to notice, however, and they quickly moved around the corner of a building where Emberglow could no longer see him.
“So what happened?” Emberglow asked, keeping her voice low. “With the investigation, and Hollybright?”
“It was brutal,” Gadget shuddered. “I was sure we were going to be discharged. Or worse.” Her eyes found Emberglow’s, and they were full of fear. “I don’t know if you’ve ever been on the bad end of a Mystic’s investigation, but I never want to be there again.”
Emberglow couldn’t help herself. She reached out and pulled Gadget into a quick, sympathetic hug. It was only a squeeze, only a split second, but she still felt warm. “How’d you get out of it?”
“That’s the thing,” Gadget shrugged. “It wasn’t anything we did. We all felt so helpless. But Sir Delver told Dad the whole story as soon as we got down here. He said the Adamants were pissed that one of their own would…” she blushed, shaking her head. “Um, would do what Bubblegum did. They wanted to make up some lost ground, recover their honor, you know? So when that Mystic, Sir Steady or something…”
“Sir Steadfast,” Emberglow supplied, and Gadget snorted in amusement at the interruption.
“Yeah, him. When he asked the Adamant for Knights to fill out the mission, they made Delver’s presence a sticking point. In turn, he said he wouldn’t go if our Strike Squad weren’t cleared, too. Since they knew we’d done nothing wrong, the whole process just got sorta streamlined.”
“And here you are,” Emberglow grinned. Gadget nodded.
“Yeah. Dad was really happy he got to still serve under Sir Delver. I guess I am too; Sir Delver’s a good Knight.” She blushed, glancing at Emberglow with embarrassment. “Not that all of you aren’t good!” She sounded nervous.
“Well, you and I have proof that Knights aren’t always good,” Emberglow muttered. Gadget gaped at her, then looked away with a frown. “Sorry. Let’s talk about something else. Did you get to see your mom when you went back to the city?”
“Oh yeah, mom’s doing great. She tried to convince both of us to retire and join her in gardening.” Gadget scoffed. “I couldn’t do it, you know? I think I’ll be in the marines my whole life, until they kick me out. Or I die.”
It was a morbid thought, and Emberglow frowned. To be fair, though, it was the same for her.
“Well, however we got here,” Gadget continued, noting Emberglow’s expression with a concerned look, “I’m glad to be here now. Me and Dad both. The rest of the squad, too. Working with Sir Delver is great, but there’s you, too, Lady Emberglow.” Her voice glowed with admiration. “I’m really happy to be working with you.” There was something in her smile, the warm, affectionate grin, that sent a shiver of fear through Emberglow’s fur.
“We have to be careful,” she whispered, almost too low for even Gadget to hear. “You know, after that night at the bar, Bubblegum thought we were on a…” She couldn’t finish the sentence. She didn’t need to, from the look of frigid fear that slid over Gadget’s eyes.
“She… But it wasn’t!” Gadget protested. “It was…”
“Still. We have to be careful,” Emberglow repeated, and Gadget gulped and nodded.
* * * * *
“You’re acting the fool!”
“Dad, it’s not…”
“I know you don’t see it, but I do. I just want to…”
“I’m done talking about this, Dad. Don’t you have a gun to disassemble, or something?”
Emberglow knew she wasn’t meant to overhear the fight. It was clearly a private moment. She was just dropping by to see if her friend wanted to join her for lunch. The air of conflict, however, made her hesitate. She was holding with indecision just outside Gadget and Gearsmith’s tent when the flap suddenly tore back, revealing a surprised looking Gadget.
“Oh! Lady Emberglow! I didn’t know you were here.”
“Sorry to startle you.” Emberglow decided to pretend she hadn’t overheard.
The tent flap swished aside again, and Gearsmith was there, looking furious for a second before his face went blank, hiding behind a mask of indifference.
“Lady Emberglow,” he greeted, barely polite as he brushed past the two of them. Emberglow watched nervously as he passed.
“I can come back later, if I need to,” Emberglow said gently. Gadget shook her head.
“No, it’s fine. What can I help you with?”
“I was just seeing if the two of you wanted to head to the mess hall together. It’s almost lunch time, and I’m bored,” Emberglow shrugged. it was getting to be a common sentiment these days. With the hours turning into days and even weeks, boredom was proving to be the biggest problem they had. Delver did his best to keep ponies occupied with training drills and sparring, but it was a struggle.
“I don’t think my dad’s available,” Gadget said huffily, glancing after the retreating figure of her father. “But I am. Let’s go.”
The two mares walked side by side, through the marine tents towards the mess hall. All about them, ponies went about their day under a cloud of stress and growing tension. Everypony moved about with nervous, darting glances and overly quick steps.
“Are they at it again?” Gadget whispered. Emberglow nodded. Gadget shuddered, her own pace picking up. Brightblade and Delver argued nearly every day, now. They didn’t fight in front of the other soldiers, but that didn’t help anypony from hearing the muffled sounds of angry yelling coming from the pair whenever they were alone together.
In the mess hall, the cooks were gearing up to lunch, though it was a bit early. Emberglow saw that they’d been busy. Lunch looked fantastic; the cooks had gone all out with a huge spread of fresh fruit, vegetables, and tea sandwiches. It was a veritable rainbow of fresh colors, bright and inviting.
“Woah,” Gadget exclaimed cheerfully. “What’s the occasion?”
“Bitterroot’s idea,” Emberglow said, grinning. “We need a bit of a fun feast. Something to pick up spirits around here.” She’d known what was coming, and had just wanted to see Gadget’s reaction.
“It’s a good idea,” Gadget grinned. “So should we wait, or…”
“Rank has privileges,” Emberglow said, feeling bold, and moved over to the table with a smirk. The cooks were still setting up, but nopony objected when she grabbed a plate and started loading it down with offerings. Gadget nervously followed suit.
“This is way better than camp rations,” Gadget giggled as she put a slice of watermelon and several grapes on her plate, before grabbing a pair of avocado sandwiches. “It’s like a summer picnic. I’ll bet this cost a lot.”
“It was all Bitterroot. Her family has money, so the first day when she wrote back she told them to send vegetables and other goodies with the mail,” Emberglow explained. “Because it came from private donation, Brightblade couldn’t complain about misuse of resources. Not that he didn’t try.”
Emberglow and Gadget found seats across from each other, excited for the colorful plates of salad in front of them. Gadget was right; it was a huge step up from the tasteless nutritional rations, full of grains and vitamins and absolutely no flavor. They dug in eagerly.
Emberglow had chosen her seat deliberately, so she could see the reactions as ponies filtered in for lunch. Brightblade scowled a little, but even he eagerly piled his plate before retreating to the privacy of another room. Delver gave a rare smile, and the Redmane twins even let out a cheer. By the time Bitterroot made it, there was a crowd of lighthearted soldiers and Knights, all happily chowing down on fresh salad for the first time in weeks.
“Bitterroot is a genius. Who would have thought a little salad would do all this?” Gadget muttered with awe. Emberglow nodded.
“It’ll only be temporary, though, if we don’t leave soon,” she said. “At least, that’s what Bitterroot said. I hope she’s wrong. Or that the ship will finally arrive.”
“He’s still being quiet about when that is, huh?” Gadget whispered, and Emberglow nodded. She didn’t need to ask who Gadget was speaking about.
“I think that’s what they were arguing about today.” Emberglow nodded in Delver’s direction. “Delver’s too professional to argue in public though.”
“Everypony knows he’s fighting for us,” Gadget snorted. “Seriously, he’s probably the best Knight I’ve ever worked with.” She seemed to catch what she’d said too late, and her eyes went wide even as Emberglow raised her eyebrows. “I-I didn’t mean it like that!” she yelped, her face going red as she waved her hooves in a panic. Emberglow was laughing.
“It’s okay, I know what you meant,” she shook her head in amusement. “You’re allowed to like Delver more than you like me.”
“I like you plenty, Emberglow,” Gadget retorted, then flinched. “Lady Emberglow. Sorry. I guess that’s the problem. Sometimes I don’t think of you as a Knight.”
“I think…” Emberglow began thoughtfully, “you’re one of the only ponies that thinks like that. Even my own parents feel distant sometimes. You never have. Thank you, Gadget.” She realized as she said it just how much she meant it, and the warmth in her chest burned out the icicle of fear. She reached out and patted Gadget’s hoof. “If it means you still treat me like a normal pony, you can call me Emberglow, if you like.”
“I don’t know if I’ll be able to, Lady Emberglow,” Gadget said ruefully. “I can try, though.”
* * * * *
“Up and alert, you two. Wake up the other Knights and the marines and send them to the airship field. We’ll be onboard Irrepressible before the sun is up,” Brightblade said softly into Bitterroot and Emberglow’s tent, after two more bitter, boring weeks had passed. It was one in the morning. Brightblade waited long enough to ensure that the two were up and moving before exiting the tent.
“He couldn’t give us more warning? Or have our departure be at a saner hour? Or bring coffee?” Bitterroot said, sighing.
“Just thank the Saints we’re finally leaving. I didn’t want to spend one more day sitting on my plot,” Emberglow grumbled sleepily, gathering her things.
“Oh wow, Emberglow. Did you just complain?” Bitterroot shot back with mock shock in her voice. “You never complain. You must be sleepier than you look.”
“Hush, you,” Emberglow said, shoving the veteran gently with one hoof. “I complain sometimes.”
“You sure about that?” Bitterroot said, smirking. The two ponies took a few seconds to stretch out stiff limbs and slip on their saddlebags, kept packed and ready at the foot of their cots for two weeks now. It only took a few moments to change out of their sleepwear and into their robes. There would be time onboard the airship to don their armor. “You go left, I’ll go right?” the veteran asked, motioning to the rows of tents spreading out in the predawn darkness.
“Got it,” Emberglow said, moving to the nearest tent on the left, a tent shared by the Redmane twins. She poked her head through the flap, barely able to see both twins curled up in their cots. At least they hadn’t been fighting last night.
“Hey, wake up!” Emberglow said to announce her presence. She had expected to go inside the tent and shake them awake, but at the sound of her voice both Adamants twitched in their beds and lifted up their heads.
“Huh? Whazgoinon?” Tad slurred, while Gem blinked at her blearily.
“Our ship’s here. We’re leaving before sunrise,” Emberglow said. Both Adamants smiled and jumped out of bed, shaking out their manes and leaning over to hoof bump each other.
“Finally!” Tad crowed, while Gem pranced on all four hooves in excitement.
“I’ve got more tents to check. Meet at the airship field when you’re ready.”
Emberglow went to the sergeants’ tents first, to have them help wake up their soldiers. Many of the military ponies reacted much like the Redmanes, if a bit more subdued. Most of them sprang out of bed with an energy that Emberglow admired. She even got to wake up Gadget and Gearsmith in their tent.
“Best news in weeks,” Gadget told her with a bright smile, that Emberglow found herself returning. She ignored the fluttering stomach that the beautiful smile gave her. Gearsmith was also rising from his cot, though the look he was giving Emberglow was decidedly less warm. It was the same kind of look he’d been giving her for two weeks now.
“I’m sorry, Gadget, but could you go check on Tumbleweed and Cliffjumper in their tents? Gearsmith will get your kit and your saddlebags ready to go.” Emberglow said impulsively. She hadn’t really planned it, but she was tired of the hard stares she was getting from somepony who was supposed to be a friend. Gadget glanced between the Knight and her father, her expression pensive. “Please?” Emberglow added.
“Um, yes, Lady Emberglow,” she said, and brushed past Emberglow out of the tent. She stood still, watching the older engineer, who was slowly starting to look like he was being backed into a corner.
“Something I can do to help you, my lady?” Gearsmith asked, his voice just barely polite. He slipped his own saddlebags on top of his combat uniform; apparently the marines had been sleeping in uniform in preparation for a sudden departure.
“Yes. You can tell me what I did to make you angry at me,” Emberglow said. She had never been very good with subtlety.
“Oh? You don’t know?” Gearsmith said, his eyes not meeting Emberglow’s as he arranged some final personal items for his and his daughter’s saddlebags. “Of course you wouldn’t notice. You’re a Knight, we’re just little ponies. You have far too many important things to do to notice the goings on of ponies like me and my daughter.”
“What? No, stop. I’ve never treated you that way!” Emberglow protested. Gearsmith snorted.
“You don’t think so, do you? But you’re just like Bubblegum.”
“No!” Emberglow cried out. “I’m nothing like…”
“You don’t even realize it!” Gearsmith hissed, trying to keep his voice low. “But sometimes you Knights just do whatever you want, and damn the consequences. Do you think Bubblegum spent any time thinking about us when she was fucking that Saints-damned bird? No! But that didn’t stop the horseapples from falling on us anyways, did it? If Delver hadn’t made his little deal, the entire team of marines could have ended up discharged, and then banished or in a reeducation camp! The Mystic investigator was saying it as if it were a foregone conclusion!”
“But…I had nothing to do with that,” Emberglow said. “It wasn’t my fault Bubblegum did, uh, what she did.”
“Of course not. But you’ve got no problem setting up to do it again, aren’t you?”
“I honestly have no idea what you’re talking about, Gearsmith,” Emberglow hissed back. She was beginning to grow angry herself. How dare he compare her to Bubblegum?
“I know what my daughter is, and so do you,” Gearsmith said, his eyes snapping up to finally meet hers, and Emberglow felt her stomach turn to ice. “I know what she’s been struggling with her whole life. And she’s been doing well, by the grace of the Saints. She’s been controlling it. But then you flit into her life. I’ve seen how you look at her. How she looks at you. You know what happens, Lady Emberglow, when you finally get caught? You’re a Knight. You’ll get a slap on the wrist. An ‘official censure on your record’. Stern, disapproving looks from your fellows. There’s no real chance of you getting a week in the pillory. A whipping. A caning. A banishment. Or a noose.”
“Gearsmith, I’m sorry, I didn’t—“ she took a breath, and started again. “I’m not—.” She stopped, the denial frozen on her lips, on the tip of her tongue. The words caught because she knew absolutely they would be a lie. Her anger and denial had evaporated, now there was only guilt and shame. She groped for something to say to appease the soldier. “I didn’t mean to give you a reason to worry.” Emberglow flinched even before she finished saying it. She knew just how limp and dead it sounded. Gearsmith caught it as well, and laughed bitterly.
“Oh, you sound so remorseful, Emberglow,” he said. Any hint of respect was gone from his voice.
“What would you like me to do about it?” Emberglow snapped back. “I’d promise to stay away from her, but I can’t! In case you didn’t notice, we’re about to parachute into Manehatten!” Gearsmith flinched away from her sudden flash of anger, and Emberglow stepped forward, her mind boiling with fury. “Maybe you’ve forgotten who you’re speaking with, marine.”
As soon as the words left her lips, she wished she could claw them back. Gearsmith’s entire body jerked, his eyes wide with shock, his ears quivering.
There was a pause of silence, then Gearsmith spoke. “I have to get me and my daughter’s gear onboard the airship, my lady,” His temper was held only by the thinnest veneer of insincere respect. “Do I have your leave to go?”
“Gearsmith, no, please. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that,” Emberglow said, her sudden burst of fury deflating as quickly as it had arisen.
“Do I have your leave, my lady?” Gearsmith insisted. His whole body was shaking, whether from rage or fear or a combination of both.
“Gearsmith, we’re supposed to be friends. I thought…”
“Do I have your leave!” he interrupted one last time, his teeth clenched tightly. His eyes and ears had both drooped, and his tail was limp. He looked as if he was either about to drop at her knees and beg, or launch into a storming tirade. Emberglow didn’t know what else to say.
“You may go,” she sighed, resigned, and he nodded, scooping up the last of his and Gadget’s gear as quickly as he could, before rushing out of the tent. Emberglow blinked, feeling the tears in her eyes, before trotting over to Gadget’s cot. With a flop, she plunged her face into the other mare’s pillow, hating herself for enjoying the scent of lavender soap and pretty mare, and screamed until she couldn’t breathe any longer. Then she took a breath and screamed again. That was all she had time for; there was work to do.
* * * * *
When she reached the airship field about half an hour later, after ensuring that everypony who was coming was awake, she saw soldiers loading crates onto an unfamiliar airship. It was still too dark to make out many of the details, but it was clearly smaller and sleeker than the ship they’d flown in on. Its hull was painted sky blue, with an off-white balloon. Emberglow assumed it was meant to blend in with the sky. From the size, she could tell there were only two decks, barely any space for storage, and only two large guns, one on each side of the hull. On the staging ground near the airship spire, it was controlled chaos. Marines rushed about organizing gear and helping Knights get their armor crates and weapons on board.
She saw Gadget and Gearsmith having an animated discussion as he hauled his own large guns on board the airship. Both of them appeared angry and afraid, though their voices were far too low to carry. Emberglow decided that this was one storm she didn’t want to get caught in. After ensuring that her own armor and weapons were being loaded on board, she bypassed the spire entirely by flying onto the deck of the airship herself. Brightblade was already there, directing traffic. He scowled when she touched down.
“Just stay out of the way,” he muttered at her. Emberglow nodded and found a spot out of the way, near the railing. She watched as ponies scurried about, loading supplies and equipment. Like Brightblade had wished, the gear and ponies had all been loaded before the sun peeked above the horizon, though it was announcing its impending arrival with a pink glow in the clouds over the ruined city. Brightblade barely waited until the ponies on the ground were clear before he ordered the new ship’s captain, an earth pony mare with black fur and a gray mane named Stormsfoal to take off into the predawn air.
“Ponies, it’s an hour and a half to our drop zone. Knights, get in your armor. Marines, get your gear in order and get ready to jump. No relaxing. This is the real deal, ponies. Be ready.” Brightblade was already dressed in his armor, and he took the sergeant of the pegasus scouts aside. Soon there was a rotating patrol of scouts flying in front and to the sides of the airship. While the pegasi could fly just a bit faster than the ship if they pushed themselves, it was far too fast for them to keep up the speed for a longer than a few minutes. Brightblade wanted scouts, though, so the seven scouts took turns dashing in front of the airship for a few minutes before switching back to rest and get a drink.
As the sun finally rose, the bones of Manehatten were revealed in all their sad horror. Rather than a few scattered stones or husks of buildings, the broken corpses of massive structures formed a forest that slowly became all Emberglow could see as they travelled closer to the center of the city. Though overgrown with a thousand years of foliage, the evidence of ruined buildings, cramped together in tight blocks, could still be seen between the green patches. The streets shattered and shifted unevenly throughout the ruins. Crumbling buildings and iron struts reached into the sky like barren tree trunks, twisted and naked, glinting in the sun in between trees and greenery. Emberglow was still fixated on the skeleton city when a pony sidled up beside her.
“Lady Emberglow, I wish to apologize for my earlier words,” Gearsmith said, and Emberglow looked at the stallion. What she saw made her want to scream again. The stallion stood, watching her with wary, fearful eyes. His posture was slumped and weak, and his ears were pinned back. “Clearly I misinterpreted the situation, and I implied things I had no idea about. If you wish to punish me, I won’t object. Just, please don’t hurt my daughter.” By the end of his little speech, Gearsmith was shaking, and Emberglow felt sick.
“Gearsmith, no…” was all she managed before the marine bowed low and fled.
This time, there was no pillow to scream into.
Was this how most ponies saw Knights? Was this going to be her life from now, to be feared by other ponies? He hadn’t acted this way before, back in Port Luminescence. After a glance over the deck, she found Gadget leaning up against a rail and trotted over.
“Everything okay with Dad?” she asked softly as Emberglow reached her.
“I…” Emberglow sighed. “I don’t know,” she said honestly. She didn’t feel right, trying to sugar coat things for Gadget. “I think I scared him.”
“Oh,” Gadget said softly. They stood, side by side in uncomfortable silence as sailors, Knights, and marines moved about behind them. The two mares quietly watched the desiccated city slip away beneath them. The distance between them felt like a physical barrier to Emberglow, like a steel wall, but she didn’t feel like spending the few remaining minutes before their drop with anypony else. Even when Brightblade came by to warn everypony that they would be jumping in ten minutes, Emberglow and Gadget didn’t leave the railing.
“Armor on, everypony,” Brightblade called over the deck. Ponies began shifting about, readying weapons and gear.
“Let me help you,” Gadget said, and Emberglow nodded solemnly. In leaded silence, the two ponies worked together to get Emberglow into her armor. When she was done, they returned wordlessly to the railing.
“I think that’s our drop site,” Gadget broke the silence suddenly, pointing at an uneven hill in the distance. It was a huge stretch of land, largely untouched by the shattered ruins around it. Like most of the ruins, though, it was still completely overgrown with wild flora. Emberglow strained to look at the hill, wondering if she might see any sign of the legendary monsters that stalked the ruins. All she saw, though, was the tops of the trees below.
“Ponies, we’re jumping in five minutes,” Brightblade called out. “I’m sorry that we don’t have a Jubilant to lead us in prayer, so I’ll have to suffice. Saints, defend us as we dive into the maw of nightmares. Guide our hooves and our feathers to your will. Saint Twilight, fill us with insight and inspiration. Help us find what we’re looking for and keep it from the hooves of the accursed. Saint Applejack, keep us safe from any within our number that would do us harm. Saint Rainbow, guide our spear points and bullets, and bolster our armor with faith and confidence. All Saints keep us.”
“All Saints keep us,” everypony intoned afterwards.
“Take these,” Brightblade said, passing a small bag to their group. “I’ve cast a far-speaking spell on these ear clips. Everypony wearing one should be able to hear what I’m saying, even over the wind and the air as we’re falling.” There were enough for each Knight, and the sergeants of each marine fire team. The clip was simple, a single piece of metal that could be attached to a pony’s ear. Emberglow clipped hers on, and immediately could hear everything Brightblade was saying as if he were whispering in her ear, even though he was speaking softly from several feet away. It was slightly disturbing to hear his voice so close.
“Okay, ponies. There’s something down there in Manehatten. The heretics want it, so we know it’s important. We have to find it before they do. I have faith in all of you to do your duty.” Emberglow saw his eyes twitch briefly in her direction. “Everypony to the railing. Stay close, trust in your teammates, your parachutes, and most of all, trust in the Saints.”
The smaller airship had a clever mechanism in the railing; with a wrench of a heavy lever, the entire railing rotated outward to be flush with the outside hull, removing the last inconvenience for the parachuting ponies.
“Time to go, ponies. Jump!” Brightblade called, his voice a shout in Emberglow’s ear.
The jump was an ordered affair; the pegasus scouts went first, sleekly muscled figures crouched tight like springs lunging off the side of the airship. Their wings were clutched tightly to their sides as they dropped towards the ground like blue- and gold-clad arrowheads. The two marine squads went next, barely a second after the pegasus fire team.
As each marine launched him or herself off the side of the airship, Emberglow was amazed at the looks on their faces. Most of the marines showed no fear, and even those who appeared nervous still followed their fellows off the side. Emberglow felt no fear, of course. Even for a pegasus who rarely flew, she had never really experienced a fear of heights or falling. Emberglow launched herself off the side of the airship when it was her turn, doing her best to emulate the liquid grace of the pegasus scouts. Even though she’d never flown this high before, the sensation of weightlessness, of air flowing over and under her body, was a familiar one.
Emberglow watched as one after another, white canvas parachutes opened up above the distant figures as they dropped towards the surface. Other indistinct figures slowed drastically as their wings spread, their trajectories shifting from steep dives to swooping arcs that cut under and through the earth ponies with parachutes.
Emberglow opened up her own wings, feeling the harsh winds of her fall cutting through her feathers as the wind resistance threatened to tear her apart. Her wings ached, but it was a momentary sensation as she pulled up out of her dive into a curve much like the other pegasi. She looked and saw Silverfeather, the Adamant pegasus, above her and to the north about thirty feet. Emberglow got a nod from the pegasus as the two of them split apart, swooping among the parachuting earth ponies to make sure nopony was having difficulties.
“Knights, shield spells!” she suddenly heard Brightblade cry in her ear, before he grunted with pain. Emberglow whipped her head about, trying to look at what Brightblade was worried about. She was just barely able to glimpse the bright whizzing missile shooting upwards through the air.
She moved on instinct, furling one wing while catching as much air in the other as possible, lurching to the side just in time to dodge the glowing red missile. It shot past her, exploding with a loud pop into a burst of bright, glowing red embers whizzing through the air.
“Fireworks?” Emberglow said out loud, though the noise was whipped away by the wind. There were bright explosions everywhere, green and orange and blue and red, leaving trails of smoke as they shot from the ground towards the parachuting ponies. Belatedly, she remembered what Brightblade had ordered, and lit up her gauntlet to cast a hasty shield spell. She could see the glowing trails as the various Knights, spread throughout the air, cast their own spells around themselves.
As soon as she finished casting her spell, Emberglow glanced to the ground below, trying to find the source of the fireworks being shot at them. She tried to gain her bearings as the shrill whistle as dozens more fireworks fired towards them. These ones didn’t explode with light and fire, however, but with clouds of black smoke. The nearest showered Emberglow with soot, blinding her in a sudden stinging burst of acrid smoke. She coughed and choked, flapping her wings unevenly as she tried to escape the cloud.
“They’re firing fireworks at us?” Brightblade said incredulously. He sounded confused, but Emberglow felt a dagger of horror slice into her chest, just as Brightblade’s voice dropped with terrified comprehension. “Oh, I see. Oh, Saints. The parachutes! A shield won’t help you if your parachute’s on fire!” His voice was panicked, and as Emberglow managed to escape the smoke cloud she could see at least five of the white canvas canopies already on fire. It wasn’t making the earth ponies underneath drop more quickly just yet, but it was only a matter of time. “Pegasi, note which parachutes are on fire. Be ready to catch anypony who drops. Saints protect us!”
It was too far away for Emberglow to identify which ponies were in trouble, but she could clearly make out several parachutes that were compromised by burns. The first one she glanced at had a few singed holes in it, but the chute itself wasn’t burning, so she dismissed it. The second had much larger holes and was dropping far too quickly, but she watched as a scout pegasus swooped down and took hold of the flailing earth pony, slowing his fall. Emberglow pumped her wings as hard as she could, dashing towards the third. The marine pony wasn’t dropping too quickly, but the terrified look on his face practically begged for rescue. She winged her way until she was dropping even with the marine.
“Help me!” he cried.
“Of course, marine, let me…” she shouted, reaching out to try and catch hold of his hooves.
She didn’t hear the whizzing noise until it was too late. Emberglow clenched her eyes shut just in time as her instincts kicked in. Even behind her eyelids she saw the bright explosion of yellow light, coupled with a loud, violent bang, followed by a ringing that muted out everything else Emberglow could hear. She felt the impact of the explosion on her shield and the wind as she was tossed wildly away by the pressure of the explosion. She opened her eyes as soon as she was able, righting herself from her careening spin as quickly as possible. She glanced over to where the marine still fell, her heart going cold.
The marine she’d been trying to help was now limp in his chute. There didn’t appear to be much more damage to the chute itself, but the pony was probably dead. The burns to his chest and face were severe, with major tissue damage. The magical shield Emberglow had protected her from the entirety of the explosion, but the marine had had none of that defense. She flew back over to the pony for a closer inspection, dreading, but already knowing what she would see.
He was not breathing. His one remaining eye was glassy and unfocused, his other a mass of charred flesh and blood. She swallowed a lump in her throat before she flapped away, looking about for other ponies she could help.
Another explosion boomed overhead. Emberglow glanced up and saw a single earth pony figure careening through the air, a ruined parachute trailing behind it. Many of the marines looked the same in their blue and gold uniforms, but there was only one pony with that blue coat and black mane.
“Not him,” Emberglow moaned, and once again pumped her slightly tired wings to dash after Gearsmith. He was tangled up in his parachute cords, and his chute had been burnt practically to cinders and rags. It was doing nothing whatsoever to arrest his downward fall.
Gearsmith wasn’t screaming or yelling as she approached, and Emberglow feared the worst until she grew close enough to see his panicked breathing, his chest pumping with each intake and exhale. She caught a glimpse of his terrified expression as she furled her wings, stretching her body into an aerodynamic pose so that she fell faster than him. Once she was below him, she extended her wings slightly to slow her fall. As Gearsmith's hooves made contact with her back, she heard him grunt in surprise.
“Hold on. Try not to interfere with my wings!” she shouted, spreading the feathery appendages to slow them. Suddenly Gearsmith’s entire weight was on her back, and she strained to keep them both in the air on tired wings. She knew it would be impossible to fly like this, but she was hoping for at least a controlled glide.
As soon as she spread her wings fully, however, she realized that control was wishful thinking. The winds buffeted her wings, and she felt them shaking and twitching as the strong gales threatened to push her into an uncontrolled spin.
Emberglow felt Gearsmith carefully reposition himself on her back, his hooves wrapping around her barrel tightly, but not enough to interfere with her flying, just as she had asked.
“How can I help?” he asked, his voice shaking with fear. She was sure he had noticed her own trembling, unsteady wings, and perhaps also the fact that they were still falling, albeit at a much slower rate than before.
“Try to hold still as much as possible,” Emberglow shouted back to him. “If we survive this landing it’s going to be rough. I’m sorry I’m not a stronger flier.”
“I was saying my last prayers for a good rebirth, and for Gadget’s wellbeing. I thought I was dead,” Gearsmith said. His voice trailed off, and Emberglow could barely hear him over the howling of the air in her ears.
“I guess we’ll try to roll when we land,” she shouted. She glanced around, looking for the hill that was supposed to be their landing zone. The wild flying, dodging fireworks and trying to swoop in to rescue ponies had taken Emberglow and Gearsmith at least a half mile to the north of the landmark, and the ground was quickly approaching.
“The best we’re going to manage is a rough landing,” Emberglow yelled. “I’ll try to aim for the softest patch of dirt or grass I can see.” She began looking for a likely spot, her gaze latching onto a likely meadow below. She did her best to angle her descent into a slow, downward spiral, trying to time it so that their inevitable crash would land them in the hopefully softer grass of the meadow, and not on the jagged, moss covered bricks that surrounded it.
“How many do you think we lost?” Gearsmith asked suddenly, and Emberglow knew who he was really thinking about.
“I don’t know. Brightblade has been silent since right around when the attacks started. Sorry, Gearsmith,” she replied, her voice straining at the effort it took to maintain even her shaky course. Gearsmith probably noted her growing fatigue, as he didn’t say anything more.
The ground was growing steadily nearer. Emberglow could make out the details of the grassy meadow, including some disturbing looking thorny bushes. Hoping that she had at least enough control to avoid those, she did her best to angle her wings to hit the grass rather than the thorns.
She managed to make it about fifteen feet above the meadow before her wings finally gave out. With a pained yelp, the two ponies tumbled the rest of the distance to the ground. Emberglow did her best to roll with the impact, but between the earth pony on her back, her saddlebags, her armor, and her spear in its sheath, it was a far less graceful impact than she could have hoped. Frankly, with the way her wings and legs got all tangled up in the remaining lines from Gearsmith’s parachute it was a miracle she didn’t break something.
Hurting all over, she did her best to rise quickly, coughing dust and dirt from the rough landing. She took a few seconds to check herself over, stretching each limb slowly to make sure nothing was sprained. She was sore, and there would be some nasty bruises, but all of her appendages seemed to be functioning.
“Lady Emberglow, are you okay?” Gearsmith said, rushing over as he extricated himself from his parachute. She was a little surprised that he had managed to get up faster than her. He was limping, favoring his right rear leg, and some of his fur was singed, as was the last few inches of his tail. There were rope burns on his front right leg, and Emberglow could see a jagged tear in the left side of the uniform on his barrel. It was slightly damp with blood.
“You’re wounded,” she said, reaching out to gently brush away his uniform to look at the wound. He hissed softly at the pain, but pushed her hoof away as soon when she raised her rune gauntlet to begin a healing spell.
“No. Save your motes, Lady Emberglow. There will be more deserving ponies soon, I’m sure. I’ll be fine with a bit of bandaging, if that’s okay.”
“Of course,” Emberglow said. “Keep an eye out for us while I patch you up, Gearsmith.”
“Yes ma’am,” the marine said. Emberglow unhooked her saddlebags, rooting around for her bandages and first aid. While Gearsmith stood, his gaze drifting vigilantly across the trees that surrounded their meadow, Emberglow tore away his ripped uniform from around the rope burn wound in his barrel.
He was right, the wound wasn’t dire. In his fall, one of the lines of his parachute had become wrapped around his barrel and had torn his uniform. The rope burn was just bad enough to have broken the skin, and blood oozed slowly from the wound. Emberglow did her best to clear away the dirt.
“There’s nothing to wash it with,” Emberglow complained to herself. “I’ll need to cast a spell anyways. Don’t worry, it doesn’t take much.”
“You’re the doctor, I suppose,” Gearsmith said. Emberglow cast a quick spell to disinfect the wound, and applied a large, flat compress to the wound before wrapping a bandage around the marine’s barrel. Gearsmith was a model patient, not complaining in the slightest, except for a sharp intake of breath when she placed the compress.
“Not too tight?” Emberglow asked as she tied off the bandage. Gearsmith shook his head stoically. “Good. We’ve got to head to the hill. That was supposed to be our landing zone. I imagine that’s where everypony else is going to congregate.” She picked up her spear. “Do you have a weapon?”
“No, ma'am. My big guns are in one of the supply drops we shoved off the airship. I can’t really operate them by myself anyways,” Gearsmith said. “But I’ve been trained in hoof to hoof combat. I’m not helpless in a fight, even without my guns.”
“Okay,” Emberglow said, trying to sound confident. Gearsmith nodded silently. It took Emberglow a few seconds to realize the veteran marine was waiting for her to issue orders, a fact that gave rise to a bubble of panic in her heart. She tamped it down ruthlessly. “Let’s head out. Stay close, and keep an eye out for whoever was shooting those fireworks at us.
“Yes ma’am,” Gearsmith said. He helped her put her saddlebags back on before they both set off. Emberglow took the lead, finding an opening in the bramble patches to the north. “Have you seen what happened to anypony else?”
“No,” Emberglow said. “We spread out too much.”
“How many do you think we lost?” he asked grimly.
Emberglow shook her head as she used her spear to push some vines out of their way. The forest was thick with undergrowth, and the dense canopy above them cut out much of the morning light. The forest was alive with the sounds of living things. Vines reached down from the trees like long, grasping fingers. The air was damp and misty, and Emberglow felt a distinct sense of not belonging, almost as if the forest had a mind of its own, and it did not want her there. She silently chided herself for her silly superstitious thoughts, but that didn’t stop the fur from standing on end on the back of her neck.
She shook her head again, this time to try and clear her thoughts. She brushed some of her red mane out of her face, an errant strand that had escaped her ponytail in all the adventure, before remembering that Gearsmith had asked a question.
“Don’t think like that, soldier,” she said softly. “I’m sure Gadget’s just fine.”
“Did you see her as we were falling?” Gearsmith asked. Emberglow shook her head.
“No, I didn’t. But that doesn’t mean anything. I only saw a few falling, most still had working parachutes from what I could see. I…” she trailed off, thinking of the first marine she’d tried to save. “I couldn’t catch the first one I tried to save, Gearsmith.”
“Do you know who it was?” he asked. Emberglow shook her head.
“One of the ponies from Fire Team Corona. I don’t remember his name,” Emberglow admitted, and her stomach roiled with guilt at the admission. Surely she should remember all the names of the ponies whose lives she was responsible for, right? She tried to not let the poisonous shame and uncertainty slip into her voice. “How’s your wound?”
“Hurts to walk, but not too bad,” Gearsmith said honestly. Emberglow nodded, noting silently to herself that she’d have to keep a close eye on his gait, to make sure it didn’t get worse.
The vines were thick enough that a sword or a machete would have been handy, so each yard of progress took far too long for her tastes. At this rate, it would take two or three hours just to cover a mile.
“Oh, bless the Saints,” Emberglow moaned gratefully as she stepped into a dry stream bed. The bottom was damp and muddy, but there was no water flowing down it. It led uphill, slightly to the northeast.
“What?” Gearsmith asked.
“Dry stream bed. Probably from rain or snow runoff. We’ll follow it for a bit, hopefully it will stay moving in the right direction. The ground’s a bit moist, but it should be easier going than hacking through all these vines.”
The stream bed turned out to be a gift from the Saints. The mud clung wetly to their hooves, and the cold moisture sunk into their fur and leg muscles, but the progress was much quicker. Though the stream meandered back and forth through the forest, it generally stayed on a northern course, moving gently uphill hopefully towards Central Hill. Over time, though, the dampness and slickness of the mud grew, until the two ponies were actually walking through a trickle of icy, brackish water. It wasn’t moving very quickly. Emberglow and Gearsmith did their best to avoid the most of the water, but soon they were shivering with cold.
“We might need to—“ Emberglow began, then stopped. There were noises up ahead. Splashing and cries. “You hear that?” Emberglow asked, holding out a hoof to stop Gearsmith.
“Yeah. Somepony’s shouting.”
“Let’s go,” Emberglow said, breaking into a canter, the cold numbness seeping into her hooves and up her legs no longer a pressing issue on her mind. As they ran, the dry streambed widened into a muddy frothing pond. Brownish algae-saturated water filled a small recess in the hill, surrounded by moss covered stones and rotting trees. The limbs of the trees reached out over the icy pond.
A pony dangled by her parachute straps over the pond from one of the longer limbs. It was Sergeant Arrow. She seemed uninjured, but she wasn’t the only figure near the pond. There were two other ponies, and a monster out of some nightmare.
The monster was easily ten times the size of a pony. It was superficially similar in appearance to a frog, with mottled dark green rubbery flesh, dripping with pond water, and a long, wide mouth. Its hind legs were bent like a frog’s, thick with bulging muscle. That was where the similarities ended, however. Its eyes were attached to its head above its mouth by fleshy stalks, nearly a hoof’s length tall, and there were three of them. Instead of forelimbs, it had six tentacles, three springing from each side of its bulky torso.
One of the ponies was limp, his wings splayed out at odd angles, his body weakly twitching as he lay on the shore of the pond. It was Cliffjumper, the pegasus medic. He was breathing, but his eyes were closed. The second pony was Gadget, muddy and bruised, standing ankle deep in the pond water. Emberglow tried to ignore how her heart leapt to see her friend safe and on her hooves, at least for now. She held a gnarled piece of wood, shaking it about menacingly like a spear to ward off the creature that was trying to eat all three of them.
The creature whipped the snakelike appendages back and forth, trying to seize either Gadget or one of the helpless ponies. One was snaked around Arrow’s left hind hoof, but the very parachute straps that kept the sergeant trapped dangling under the tree limb also kept her from being dragged into the waiting maw of the frog monstrosity.
“Go around the pond, help your daughter,” Emberglow ordered, her voice a low whisper. She didn’t even look to see if Gearsmith acknowledged the order; he would have gone straight for Gadget even if she hadn’t said anything.
Focusing her sights on the creature, she tightened her hold on her spear and leapt into the air, her wing muscles aching in protest at their use so soon after her earlier crash. She flew across the pond in a mad dash, holding her spear out in front of her like a lance, aimed at the creature.
Emberglow spared a glance at her friend just in time to see Gadget’s look of desperation flash into an elated grin as the young mechanic caught sight of the Knight Radiant. She didn’t have time to say anything before she reached her target, folding her wings into a dive just behind and above the monster, her spear braced in front of her for a stab fueled by mass and momentum.
The frog monster’s central eye must have caught some sign of movement, because it swiveled just in time to see the Knight dropping onto it from above. The creature lurched forward to dodge the diving pegasus, but Emberglow’s spear found its mark in the monster’s thick, rubbery flesh. Rather than impaling the monster through its head, like Emberglow had hoped, the spear tip impacted the flesh, then dug a deep furrow through the monster’s muscular back before the creature jerked and shoved the spear away. Emberglow groaned in frustration as she flapped her wings, pulling up just as her hooves skimmed the surface of the pond.
The monster was quick to spin around to face this new threat, whipping its tentacles into a broad swing that moved almost faster than Emberglow could react. All three of the appendages from one side of the frog impacted Emberglow’s side, and she only had a half second to brace herself for the blow. Emberglow’s armor absorbed most of the attack, but the momentum of the strike knocked her out of the air and into the shallow water nearer the shore. More cold water seeped into her gambeson, spreading numb wetness through her limbs.
Her bruised body ached and screamed for her to stay down, but it wasn’t an option. She had to get up. Had to distract the thing, so the others could get free. She silently thanked the Saints that she had held onto her spear when the monster had flung her. She stood up and braced her weapon, ready for the monster to charge her.
The creature had other plans, however. Rather than an enraged charge, the frog swung with its other tentacle set, using them like a club to batter at the Knight. Emberglow dodged to the side as the limbs descended from above her to splash violently into the water. Brackish filth sprayed in her face, and all over her armor. As Emberglow tried to clear her vision from the water, the monster struck again in the same way, three tentacles swinging from above. She dodged again, and the creature began to strike rapidly, alternating limbs in huge, battering ram blows that tossed up icy water and mud everywhere. Emberglow tried desperately to back away, drawing him further from the wounded and trapped marines, but it was all she could do to keep dodging the strikes.
She spared a glance for the two standing marines. Gearsmith and Gadget were quietly circling around the back of the creature, looking for a chance to strike at it, and her heart filled with cold dread.
“Get the sergeant free!” Emberglow shrieked desperately. She had managed to hit the frog once, and it had barely slowed it down. She knew they had little chance of defeating or killing it. The two marines paused, then rushed back towards their sergeant. “Get the pegasus out of the way too! Further into the woods!” She really hoped the monster didn’t speak their language.
Fortunately the monster didn’t turn from Emberglow when she shouted out her orders. Unfortunately, the monster did take advantage of the Knight’s moment of distraction to launch a vicious double-limbed attack, swiping diagonally down in a ‘V’ shape towards her. Emberglow raised her spear to parry the strike, but the monster surged forward. The tentacles impacted the spear about halfway down their length, and the monster used its weight and leverage to press down against Emberglow, driving her into the mud. The slimy, narrow tips of the tentacles snaked back around behind her, and before she realized what had happened two of them had seized her back legs. With a quick yank, Emberglow was upended hind first into the air, her face splashing down into the mud.
The monster wasted no time disorienting its prey, spinning Emberglow around in midair while she coughed and sputtered. Two more tentacles wrapped around her barrel, trying to immobilize her wings, while another tried to strangle her. She whipped her head around, doing her best to avoid the limb attempting to choke out her air. She was struggling just enough that the frog’s tentacles couldn’t get a good grip around her neck, so the creature tried a different tactic. Opening its wide maw, Emberglow saw hundreds of sharp, brown stained teeth and a writhing tongue. The tongue, much thicker and shorter than the frog’s tentacles, oozed with some sort of sticky slime.
Before she could do anything, the tongue shot out and stuck to her armor’s peytral, and Emberglow screamed in disgust and fear. The tongue was nearly as thick across as her neck, and it stuck to the metal plate like glue. Even though her front hooves were not stuck by the tentacles, she didn’t have enough time to try to loosen the armor piece before the mutant frog jerked her into its maw and bit down hard. Emberglow flinched, waiting for the crushing pain as the creature’s pointed brown teeth ground and clenched against the armor on her barrel and flanks. The tentacle that had been trying to strangle her was now shoving against her helmet and face, trying to shove her head into the frog’s mouth as well.
The air was full of screeching sounds as tooth ground against metal. Sharp, stinging pain stabbed into Emberglow’s flank as one tooth found the smallest of cracks in her armor, but mostly her armor kept her safe, for now. Squirming around as much as she could, she tried to beat at the creature’s face with the haft and blade of her spear. The weapon bounced off the monster’s nose as its eyestalks thrashed about, dodging the clumsy attack.
“Emberglow!” Gadget shouted from shore. The frog was facing away from the other ponies, so Emberglow couldn’t see what they were doing.
“Just get the sergeant and the medic to safety!” Emberglow shouted. “Go!” Her attempts to wiggle free were pointless, so she tried to stab at the frog’s eyes. The disgusting orbs were far too dexterous to hit with the tip of her spear, however, and the creature finally got the idea to try and immobilize the spear itself. The tentacle began wrapping around the haft of her spear, and she knew that if her weapon was out of the picture, she was dead.
With a sudden flash of inspiration, Emberglow spun the spear so that the tip was facing not the creature, but her own chest. With all the force she could muster for the awkward strike, she thrust the spear into the soft tissue of the creature’s tongue.
The monster shook violently, a low warble of pain and distress squeezing from its throat. Brownish red sludge seeped from the wound in its tongue, and it jerked and twisted to try and dislodge the weapon or retract its stuck tongue. Its jaws clenched down harder, now apparently trying to simply crush Emberglow between its muscled jaws. She felt the few teeth that had managed to slip into seams in her armor stabbing deeper into her flanks, sending a burning knife of pain into her hind end.
“Didn’t like that, did you?” she muttered, pulling out the spear, its tip now covered with the foul blood of the frog monster. “Your skin’s hard, but not your mouth? Maybe you shouldn’t have put me inside it then.” Just barely, a glimmering flame of hope lit in her mind. Maybe she’d survive this after all.
“Lady Rainbow, please,” she prayed simply as she angled the spear deeper inside the thing’s mouth. Maybe it would like a strike to the soft palate even less than it had a wound in its tongue. There wasn’t much room for her to move to gain leverage, but she did her best to maneuver her free hooves enough to ram the weapon into the top of the frog’s mouth. She couldn’t see, but rather felt the tip of the weapon meet resistance, then slip further in.
This time the creature shrieked with rage, thrashing its maw back and forth with pain and fury. Emberglow was rather suddenly flung from the monster’s maw by her trapped hind legs. Her spear, lodged in the creature’s mouth, was wrenched from her hooves as she tumbled through the air far too quickly to right herself. With a solid thwack and the crack of splitting wood she crashed into one of the trees on the shore stomach first, knocking the wind out of her as she flopped to the ground.
The first sound Emberglow heard as she regained her senses was stomping hooves and indistinct shouting. She was face down in the sandy soil, and felt hooves along her sides and barrel lifting her up, trying to get her to her hooves. Shaking, with pain still burning in her flank, she let the ponies near her help her up.
“Run,” she managed, blinking, as she took in the two ponies around either side. It was Gadget and Sergeant Arrow, holding her up on either side. “Get out of here.”
“Not without you, Lady Emberglow,” the sergeant said. “C’mon, we’ll help you run. Gearsmith has the medic. Let’s go before that Saints-damned monster stops chewing on your spear.”
Bolstered on either side by the two mares, Emberglow took the first few faltering steps into the relative safety of the dense forest. Her front legs were sore but functional, though her hind legs were slowly growing numb. This was a bad sign, but now was not the time to worry about it. She stumbled a few times, but was held up by the mares on either side of her. Progress was slow through the foliage, but from the enraged sounds of the creature behind them, the closely growing trees were clearly more of an inconvenience to the frog creature than they were to the ponies.
By the time Emberglow couldn’t hear the frog monster any longer, she was freezing, in agony all over, and barely conscious. A cold sort of sting was spreading from her wounded flank through the rest of her body. Before she slipped away, she had just enough presence of mind to mutter out a warning.
“I think... poisonous…”