Chapter 18
Official Report, written by Captain Stormsfoal of Irrepressible
Sir Steadfast,
I dropped the package off at the delivery address. Some trouble, casualties confirmed, but mission proceeding as planned. Contact will be limited.
Area is heavily infested with termites, and my ship’s wood. Don’t recommend extraction via airship.
Will be back home in five days for a more complete report.
Captain Stormsfoal
1112 AF, Ruins of Manehatten
Emberglow woke in a tent. She couldn’t see because it was too dark, but the smell of military canvas, of dust and sweat and gunpowder, was unmistakable. She was on her stomach, her limbs spread out on a padded bedroll, and there was a wet spot near her muzzle that she realized, with embarrassment, was drool. She lifted a hoof to wipe her mouth, wincing at the stiff muscle ache that came with the motion. She looked around slowly, letting her eyes become accustomed to the darkness.
It was a two pony tent, smaller and more cramped than the ones back at the outpost, but with a similar triangular style. There was no room for cots, so the bedrolls had been placed right on the packed dirt. Emberglow could see her saddlebags close by, as well as the pieces of her armor stacked on the empty bedroll in the tent. It was hard to tell in the darkness, but it looked like somepony had taken the time to clean and polish her armor after her involuntary mud bath earlier. Her gambeson was clean as well, folded next to her armor.
She felt her face heating with embarrassment as she realized that meant somepony had undressed her. Instinctively, she tried to lurch to her feet to dress herself, but remaining stiffness and bandages on her flank tripped her up and she slumped back into the bedroll with a hiss of pain.
There was a sudden flood of light into the tent as the flap was pulled aside. Emberglow clumsily shielded her eyes with one hoof, which brought a chuckle from the pony who’d entered her tent.
“Sorry, didn’t know you were awake,” came Medic Sea Star’s gentle voice. “Lady Bitterroot will be pleased. She asked me to come check on you and your bandages, but neither of us expected you to be awake so soon.”
“Where am I?” Emberglow asked.
“We’re calling it Camp Hilltop. Not very creative, I know, cuz it’s a camp… on top of a hill…” Sea Star laughed, though it was strained. She pulled back the sheet that had been covering Emberglow, revealing her wounded and bandaged hindquarters. Her motions were routine and clinical, and Emberglow felt only a token embarrassment at being nude in front of another pony. Sea Star was a professional, after all. “Central Hill, specifically. We may have lost some ponies in the descent, but we’re camped in our planned LZ and Lady Joyful Sound has set up her equipment.”
“How many casualties?” Emberglow asked, and watched the medic flinch as she began to unwrap the bandage.
“Too many,” Sea Star muttered. “Only one Knight, though. Sir Redmane’s body was found only about fifty yards from the LZ, with a destroyed chute. Four marines are dead for sure, and seven more are missing. Sir Brightblade wanted the scouts to go look for the missing, but…”
“But what?” Emberglow asked, still reeling from the horrific tally.
“We’re under siege here. Sir Brightblade and Sir Delver managed to put up a shield around the camp to protect us from the mortars, but every so often heretic unicorns out there in the ruins will fire something at us. They’ve got other firearms as well. We’re penned in. We’ve dug trenches in case the shield falls, but we’re low on supplies. Our supply drops were the first things the heretics on the ground targeted.”
“Okay,” Emberglow said slowly. The medic finished removing the bandage and Emberglow saw, for the first time, her own wounded flank. There were four jagged puncture wounds, each one nearly an inch apart, just below her cutie mark on her right rear leg. It was clear she’d benefited from healing magic; they looked like wounds that had been healing for weeks. Suddenly she remembered the cold, numbing sensation of the monster’s poison. “I was poisoned! The creature that bit me, I’m sure it was…”
“Calm down, Lady Emberglow. Standing orders from Lady Bitterroot. Everypony who was bitten or stung or clawed by whatever critters are out there gets checked out by somepony who can magically heal poison. She casts the spells herself. How do you feel now?”
“Stiff. Hurting. I could probably get to work and do something useful. How many other wounded are there to tend to?”
“Nopony as badly as you, thankfully, though we are short hooved. There’s no other cases that need regular tending like you did, thankfully. The rest of the wounded are up and moving. Cliffjumper didn’t make it.”
“Oh,” Emberglow said sadly. She hadn’t known the pegasus medic for long, but it stung to realize somepony under her command was now gone. She remembered the last time she’d seen him, he’d been alive but wounded on the shore of the muddy pond. Sea Star pulled a tube of antibiotic ointment from her own saddlebags and rubbed a bit onto the puncture wounds before wrapping a fresh bandage.
“Everypony will be glad you’re up and about though, Lady Emberglow,” Sea Star said, injecting her voice with as much cheer as she could manage. Emberglow could tell it was a bit forced. “Your wound looks clean, Lady Bitterroot’s spell worked just fine. The wounds look like they’ve been healing for a month or more, which is exactly what the Lady told me to expect. Is there any pain?”
Emberglow stretched her hind legs cautiously, twisting this way and that, feeling the stretch of the skin and fur around the wound. There was a bit of tightness, and a little soreness, but no real pain.
“Not really, no,” Emberglow said. When Sea Star raised her eyebrows, Emberglow laughed softly. She knew that look; she’d used it on some stubborn patients in the past. “Truly. I’m fine. There’s some soreness and tightness, but I feel like my leg has full range of motion.”
“Good. Don’t strain yourself, if you can help it,” Sea Star said. Emberglow laughed again, and the medic quirked her head inquisitively.
“Sorry, it’s just funny to be on the other side of this conversation,” Emberglow said. “Don’t worry, I’ll be a good patient.”
“Funny you say that,” Sea Star said with a smirk. “Other medics sometimes make the worst patients.”
“I’ll do my best to subvert those expectations,” Emberglow said wryly. “Now, may I get dressed, medic? I’d like to see the camp.”
“You’re cleared to get out of bed, Lady Emberglow. Just…” The medic took a deep breath, glancing back at the tent flap. “Don’t get your expectations up about the camp. There’s not much to see. When you’re ready, Lady Bitterroot would like to see you. She’ll be in the command tent, the big one in the middle of camp.” With that, Sea Star slipped out of the tent, leaving Emberglow with some privacy to assemble and don her armor.
It had been impossible for Emberglow to miss the dejected note in Sea Star’s tone. She supposed that, in the absence of a Knight Jubilant, the two Radiants were going to be responsible for camp morale, which meant this was the sort of thing she’d have to pay attention to. She decided to see for herself what was happening in the camp before she asked any questions, however. Standing up with a careful stretch of her limbs, she trotted over to put on her armor.
Though it was clear somepony had cleaned and polished her armor, Emberglow was still a bit unsettled by the row of dents in the flanchard, complete with scratched paint. The dents had been beaten out so that the armor fit the same, but Emberglow couldn’t shake the feeling of the protective metal closing in, squeezing in on her flanks. With an amused snort at her overactive imagination, she finished tightening the straps and buckles on her armor.
When Emberglow pushed aside the tent flap, she was assaulted by the bright light of midmorning. She had lost track of time after she had dropped unconscious, but it looked like she’d been out of it for just under a day. It had been just about noon when she’d fought the frog monster, and she’d passed out shortly after that. She had to take a moment to readjust to the light before she could look around.
The camp was perched on top of a wide hill, devoid of most foliage except for scrub grass and bushes. The soil was littered with stones the size of apples, most of which appeared to be the remains of bricks shed from nearby ruined buildings. A narrow trench, capped on the outside by a built-up earthwork, ringed the outside of the camp and faced down the hill towards the surrounding trees. Emberglow could barely make out the signs of a large domed magical shield, glowing with faint purple energy, just touching the edges of the camp outside the earthworks. Scattered about inside the camp were a collection of tents, the largest of which had been dug partially into the ground and covered with dirt and sod as camouflage. Several marines were busy doing the same for the tents, one at a time, digging out foxholes in the earth to make them as safe as possible from oncoming projectiles and magical beams. The whole thing gave the camp an air of short-term permanence that made Emberglow nervous. Everything she’d seen about Manehatten suggested they didn’t really want to stay in one place for long.
Outside the camp, the hill sloped down steeply until it reached a line of trees. The transition was abrupt, as if some giant had drawn a line between hill and forest with a thick crayon. Emberglow knew personally just how thick that foliage was; she’d struggled through it herself for a while. She knew there were heretics and mutants out there, somewhere, and with the undergrowth as thick as it was, it would be easy for them to grow close and fire on the camp without being seen. The camp was high, and easily defended, but it would also be difficult to attack from. That was probably what Brightblade had in mind; they needed time, after all, to set up and use Joyful Sound’s detection equipment and find the anomaly that had sent them here in the first place. There was only one real break in the thick forest: a single strip of beaten dirt, like the remains of a path, leading up the hill.
The camp was full of noise, but it was a subdued and somber noise, unlike the frequently cheerful cacophony that had often filled the Outpost they’d just left. Emberglow took a moment to look at the faces of the Marines working in camp. Most were digging foxholes, but there were some patrolling in the trench along the earthworks. Their faces were set and serious, businesslike with little hint of joy or cheer. It made her nervous, knowing she was responsible for keeping these ponies’ morale up. Several did seem to brighten as they saw her out of her tent, and a few waved.
“I can show you to the command tent, if you want,” Sea Star said to Emberglow’s right. Emberglow nodded, even though she had already picked it out as the largest tent.
“Everypony seems down,” Emberglow commented softly. Sea Star said nothing, but her mouth tightened. “Is it just because of our losses?”
“Not my place to say,” the medic said after a long pause. Emberglow shrugged. The two of them reached the command tent, where the two ponies could hear three voices, whispering intensely in an argument. Emberglow descended the narrow earthen ramp into the recessed tent. She pushed the camouflaged tent flap aside and stepped into the dark interior. The whispered conversation immediately paused as soon as Emberglow entered the tent.
Inside, Brightblade, Delver, and Bitterroot sat around a low table, sat with a crudely drawn map. All three showed evidence of small minor wounds; Delver had a bandage around his right front hoof, Bitterroot’s face and neck were covered with scrapes and nicks, and Brightblade was missing over half of his right ear. Emberglow suddenly realized that this might have something to do with Brightblade’s communication spell going silent. If something had torn off his ear, the enchantment would have unbound from the ear clip. Joyful Sound sat in the corner of the tent, quietly poised with a notepad and quill to take notes. Next to her was a strange apparatus that Emberglow had never seen before.
It almost looked like a transmitter of some sort, with a curved disk that surrounded a focusing crystal.
“Emberglow! You’re awake! Great!” Bitterroot said cheerfully, and Delver grinned and raised a hoof in salute. Brightblade simply nodded impatiently.
“Wonderful, she’s awake. Now, if we could just…” the Knight Mystic began, but Bitterroot cut him off.
“Just a moment please,” she said. “I’d like a second to make sure my patient is okay.” The old veteran gave Emberglow a wink as Brightblade glowered. “Wound healing okay? Any aftereffects of the poison?”
“No ma’am, your spell work did the trick. I feel great. Thank you,” Emberglow said.
“We done?” Brightblade interrupted. “If it’s okay with you ladies, I’d like to get back to our meeting. Emberglow, I’m glad you’re up,” he said, sounding nothing of the sort. “Feel free to…”
He cut off when a loud explosion shook the ground. Everypony paused except Emberglow, who jumped with a startled yelp. They held their silence for a brief moment, and then when no other explosions followed they all glanced at Emberglow. Bitterroot was smirking.
“What was that?” Emberglow asked, confused at the non-reaction of the other Knights in the tent. Joyful Sound hadn’t even looked up from the notes she was glancing at.
“Another mortar attack,” Bitterroot said.
“Mortars?” Emberglow asked.
“There’s ponies out there in the forest firing at us,” Brightblade said. “Hence the shield. We’re safe for now, but we’re looking for a way to strike out at them and stop the attacks. But for now, your presence isn’t required, Lady Emberglow. Feel free to get some food and check in with your medics.”
Dismissed, Emberglow nodded and turned to leave the tent, nearly colliding with the scout sergeant as the pegasus rushed into the tent.
“Sir! There’s a pony on the path watching the camp, right at the tree line!” the mare reported hurriedly, not even taking time to salute.
“Another one of ours?” Brightblade asked. The pegasus sergeant shook her head.
“No sir. A unicorn. He’s wearing yellow armor. And carrying a white cloth tied to a stick.”
Every pony in the tent perked up at that. Brightblade walked over to address the scout.
“Did he say anything?” he asked urgently. The scout nodded.
“He shouted. He said he wanted to speak with somepony who’s in charge, and that if somepony comes to talk to him the mortar attacks will pause.”
“Thank you, marine. You’re dismissed,” Brightblade said. He glanced at Emberglow. “You too, Emberglow and Joy. We’ve got something to discuss.” He motioned to Bitterroot and Delver. Bitterroot shrugged, and Delver looked a little embarrassed. Emberglow turned to follow after the scout.
“Where is he?” she asked the pegasus sergeant. “I might as well get a look.”
“This way, Lady Emberglow,” the sergeant said. She wasn’t the only pony who was curious. There were a dozen marines in the trench, watching over the earthworks down the hill at the lone figure, standing just where the trees met the hill. The marines saw Emberglow approach and made way at the barrier. There was only one other Knight there watching, Lady Gem Redmane, never took her eyes off the heretic. Emberglow squeezed up next to her.
“Hey,” the Adamant said softly, though she didn’t glance up. “Glad you’re awake.”
“I heard about your brother,” Emberglow said. “I’m so sorry.” Gem simply grunted.
“That’s the bastard that killed my brother,” the Adamant said. “I know, he may not have been the one to do it himself, but if he’s here, he’s the one that gave the order. I’m gonna rip his horn off myself and cram it into his eye sockets. One at a time. Slowly.” Her voice was calm and measured, but her eyes were full of tears. Emberglow hurt for her compatriot, but the utter hatred in her voice was a bit unsettling. “Why is he here?”
The unicorn in question looked as if he were standing casually in the middle of a normal city street, or a pastoral field, rather than a ruined path in one of the most dangerous areas in the entire Diarchy. He glanced around uninterestedly, not staring at the camp above him. In one hoof he held a long spear, with a white cloth tied just under the blade. Just as the scout had said, he was wearing yellow armor with the cutie mark of Saint Fluttershy painted on the flank. While most of his body was covered with armor, Emberglow could see his brown fur and slate grey mane poking through the armor. He even wore a beard, a grey goatee that jutted from the bottom of his chin like a twirling tuft of smoke.
The marines were silent, watching the heretic from their vantage point with the Knights. Each and every one had a weapon at the ready, mostly rifles. Gem held a spear at the ready. Emberglow felt oddly naked without a weapon. Her hooves itched for action, to bridge the distance and take the fight to the heretic himself. This was the creature that was responsible for so much mayhem and death. A deep anger began to boil within her, and she glared at the heretic pony.
She wasn’t the only one to feel unsettled at the distant figure. There was an urgent tenseness in his motions that all the nearby ponies seemed to share. It was something Emberglow fully understood. She’d fought unicorns and infidels before, but this was the first time she’d ever laid eyes on one of the infamous Knights Discordant. It was disconcerting how little he seemed to care about them.
Nopony was willing to say much of anything while they sat and watched the unconcerned heretic Knight. After a few minutes, Brightblade approached the trench.
“Make way, please,” the Mystic said. The two Knight mares parted to make space for him at the earthen barrier. Brightblade’s rune quill glowed brightly as he cast the loudspeaker spell.
“Heretic! You wished to speak with the commander of this camp? I am here!” he called out to the figure down below. The heretic’s horn glowed with a golden yellow light. Everypony at the barrier tensed nervously, but the spell he cast wasn’t an attack or a beam of deadly light. It simply made his throat glow, much like Brightblade’s loudspeaker spell.
“Yup! That’s great, I’m glad you could make it,” the heretic said, his voice magically amplified over the camp. “I was hoping we could talk.”
“What do we have to talk about, creature?” Brightblade replied. He kept his voice calm, but his tail was thrashing with agitation. Somepony behind them cleared their throat gently. Emberglow looked back, and Tumbleweed was there, holding out a spear for Emberglow. She took it with a nod of gratitude.
“So, straight to business? No pleasantries?” the heretic tittered in an odd, singsong voice. “Very well, if you want to play it that way. I want to talk about peace. A truce. Non-aggression. Voluntary cessation of hostilities, et cetera et cetera.”
“Why?” Brightblade asked simply, after a moment’s pause.
“Well, that’s what we have to chat about, hm?” the Knight Discordant replied. “If you’re amenable, meet me right here in one hour, under this flag of truce.” He upended his spear and drove it into the ground, nearly a foot deep. “I give my oath on blessed Fluttershy’s name that no harm will come to you and yours while we hold our talk. Bring as many as three ponies, we’ll do the same. We promise to stop our mortars, but we will fire on any that try to sneak off into the ruins during the hour. That includes pegasi.”
Emberglow could feel the tenseness in the Knight Mystic as he considered the heretic’s offer. She might not like Brightblade, but she felt a great deal of pity for the decision he had to make now. His face was firm as he stared down at the heretic, but he was practically trembling.
“I’ll think about it. If I’m not there in an hour, assume we refused your generous offer,” Brightblade called back. The heretic merely waved, before turning around casually and trotting back to disappear in the tree line.
“What’s his angle?” Delver asked from behind them. He had approached while all of their attention was on the heretic, and Sir Brightblade.
“I don’t know. He can’t seriously want a truce, can he?” Brightblade mused. “He wants something from us.”
“It could also be a ruse,” Delver said. “A trick to peel off three or four of us and seriously weaken our forces?” Brightblade opened his mouth to respond, then looked around at the crowd of marines that were gathered, listening to the conversation.
“You are all dismissed. Go back to your duties, to your watches. I’ll let everypony know what’s going on as soon as I’ve had a little chat with Delver and Bitterroot.” He motioned for Delver to follow him, and returned to the command tent, where Emberglow assumed Bitterroot was still waiting. The two stallions closed the tent flap behind them. Emberglow almost expected the camp to erupt in gossipy whispers and murmurs at the news, but it was a testament to the military discipline of the crowd that ponies simply returned to what they were doing, with only a few speculative glances back at the command tent.
Lacking any sort of official orders herself, Emberglow decided to briefly tour the camp, trying to look at each of the ponies and gauge the general mood of the soldiers and Knights. On the way past, she glanced at the ‘mess tent’, really a simple cooking fire tended by one of the marines of Fire Team Corona. Gadget and Gearsmith were sitting with a few other marines, eating near the cooking fire. The blue-furred mare waved at Emberglow, invitation clear in her eyes, but Emberglow shook her head with a smile. That wasn’t something she wanted to deal with quite yet. Gadget smiled back, and Emberglow continued her tour of the camp.
It wasn’t fifteen minutes before Brightblade’s magically empowered shout came from the command tent.
“Emberglow, Gem, Joy, please report to the command tent,” he called out. Inside the three senior Knights were gathered, looking upset. Bitterroot in particular appeared particularly annoyed.
“We’ve decided to go to this heretic’s little meeting,” Brightblade said, and Bitterroot snorted. “It may be a trap. But the opportunity is too good to pass up. If we’re smart about this, we have a great deal to gain from this little meeting. I’d like the chance to see our enemy close up. We may even learn a bit about what they’re up to here. Maybe even figure out how they knew when we’d be dropping in.”
“Yes, but…” Bitterroot tried to interject, but Brightblade held up a hoof.
“I’ll be going, of course. It wouldn’t be appropriate to send another into such danger if I’m not willing to go myself,” he said. Emberglow saw Bitterroot roll her eyes. “Delver will be accompanying us as well, and Emberglow.”
Emberglow couldn’t help but stare in shock, while both Delver and Bitterroot let their disapproval show on their faces. It didn’t make much sense. Why her? Why not Bitterroot?
“I’m going to need both of you to stay silent, listen, and observe,” Brightblade said, ignoring the scowls and surprised looks from the other Knights. “Delver, your experience in combat and your knowledge of tactics will come in handy. We’ll go fully armed and armored, and cast shield spells before we go. These are my orders. Be ready to go in a half hour. The rest of you, assemble the marines and be ready for anything. Joy, I’ll need you to keep up with the motic seismograph. The sooner we’re able to more accurately pinpoint the location of our anomaly, the sooner we’ll be able to make a plan to check it out.”
With that, he walked out of the command tent, brushing past the Knights who were staring at him with a range of stunned or angry expressions. Bitterroot made eye contact with Emberglow, jerking her head to the side to indicate a request for a private conversation. As the ponies exited the tent, Emberglow and Bitterroot trotted off to one side, alone.
“What’s going on?” Emberglow said in hushed tones to the older Radiant, her ears pulled back as she leaned in for secrecy. “Why me?”
“I honestly don’t know,” Bitterroot said, her voice also low. “You musta really done something to piss him off, cuz our Brightblade is seriously angry at you. And not just because you stood up to him back at the outpost.”
“Is that why you seemed annoyed before the meeting started?” she asked.
Bitterroot scoffed. “Yes. I don’t get it. It should be me at the meeting, not you.”
“I think… he thinks I’m some sort of spy. Like this is all my fault, somehow. Being attacked in midair, the first ship being attacked, all of it. I think he wants to keep an eye on me.”
“What? That makes no sense! Why?” Bitterroot nearly cried out in shock. Emberglow looked around nervously, shushing the other Knight. With whispered tones she told the veteran the whole story, about her mission to Port Luminescence, Bubblegum’s treason and sin, her brief interrogation and even the deal Delver had made to get the marines out of investigation. Bitterroot listened politely, waiting to comment until the end.
“Saints-damned Mystic paranoia. You think he wants you at this meeting just to keep an eye on ya?” Bitterroot asked rhetorically. She didn’t wait for Emberglow to answer. “Don’t you worry though, this’ll all pass before too long. He’ll eventually figure out that he’s wasting his time and effort worrying about you. In the meantime though, you gonna be okay going to meet with the big bad heretic and his evil buddies?”
“I’ll be fine, I think,” Emberglow said.
“Yeah you will,” Bitterroot said. “Lady Rarity will watch out for you.”
“Thanks, Bitterroot,” Emberglow said.
When it was time for the meeting, Emberglow, Brightblade, and Delver stood at the edge of the camp, just in the trench behind the earthworks. The heretic already stood behind the spear he had thrust into the ground, joined by only a single companion. It was a griffon in polished silver armor, complete with fearsome looking claw guards and a full helmet that covered his avian face.
“Only two?” Brightblade hissed. “He said to bring three. Why put himself at a disadvantage?”
“It’s a power move,” Delver whispered back. “He’s basically announcing how little he’s intimidated by us.” Brightblade grunted, then huffed with annoyance.
“We’re wasting time. Let’s go.”
All three Knights were fully armored, with spears in sheathes on their armor. Brightblade had ensured that all three of them had full spell batteries in their gauntlets, and they had cast shield spells before leaving the relative safety of their camp. The three of them stepped out together, with Brightblade in the lead and Delver and Emberglow following.
For a moment, Emberglow glanced at the sky, expecting it to rain fire and chaos on them at any second. Nothing came, and she was a little surprised that the heretic had kept his word.
“Project confidence and fearlessness,” Brightblade said to them, sotto voce. “Give them nothing. Say nothing. I will speak for all of us.”
“Yes sir,” Delver said. Emberglow just nodded.
The three ponies took their time trotting down the hill until they reached the spear. The heretic and the griffon stood side by side. The griffon was still as a statue, barely moving except for his eyes, which remained locked on the three approaching. The heretic was less still, gently stroking at his wispy goatee with one hoof and a mysterious smirk on his face. There was another oddity to his appearance; his eyes were different colors. One was bright yellow, while the other was a deep, angry red. Emberglow wondered what it meant; heterochromia wasn’t genetic in ponies, it only ever came about because of accident or injury. It wasn’t something she had much time to be curious about, however. Brightblade opened his mouth to speak, but the heretic preempted him.
“I’m so glad you decided to show up. Nice to meetchya!” He held out a hoof to shake. Brightblade stared at him. The heretic held his hoof out awkwardly for a few seconds, before shrugging and placing it back in the dirt. “Okay then. So here’s the deal. You all have to go.”
“We have to go?” Brightblade repeated dangerously. The heretic tittered, his voice oddly musical.
“Yeah. You all have to go. As soon as possible. You see, this here”—he waved a hoof around, taking in the earth, the hill and the ruins—“this is holy ground. Our holy ground. You can’t be here.” His voice had dropped, lowering as his demeanor smoothed out, losing the amused grin and the cheerful lilt to his voice. “You don’t belong. We don’t want any bloodshed. We regret the loss of every single pony life. But Manehatten belongs to Equestria, and we won’t suffer your intrusion on ground hallowed by the blood of martyrs.”
“Equestria? There is no such thing,” Brightblade said, his voice thick with contempt. “It ceased to exist when the heretic Sunset Shimmer was brought to justice.” Emberglow was a little surprised at Brightblade. Few ponies were actually well read enough to know the name of the secessionist nation founded by the second great heretic. Brightblade had never seemed like much of a history buff to her, even though he was a Mystic.
“If you say so,” the heretic said with a shrug, not taking Brightblade’s bait. “We feel differently. We don’t want to kill you, but we’re ready to enforce our claim with violence if we need to. However, if you agree to leave, we’ll clear the path for you. No more mortars, no more attacks.”
“A bit late for your offer for the ponies who died in the air, isn’t it?” Brightblade asked. The heretic looked grim.
“This isn’t the first time you were warned, Mystic,” the heretic said. “We sent messages to your superiors. We took out one of your airships. You’re awfully persistent, you know? But I’d really, really like to avoid any more deaths.”
“Why? Why do you care?” Brightblade asked.
“We fight against institutions and ideas, not against ponies,” the heretic said. It sounded rehearsed.
“And what if we don’t go?”
“Then we bring fire and pain. We will rain down death and justice on the interlopers, and may Celestia and Luna have mercy on your souls,” the heretic said. Brightblade snorted out a laugh.
“That’s supposed to intimidate me?” he said. “Let’s not play any more games, hm? If the Knights Discordant had the ability to enforce their claim on Manehatten, they would have decades ago. This would be a working city, not a rubble pile infested with life’s rejects. You wouldn’t even be here if you didn’t detect the same thing we did.”
“Oh?” the heretic asked, grinning triumphantly. “And what did we detect?”
Brightblade scowled at the unicorn stallion but said nothing. Clearly the heretic thought he had won some sort of victory from the smirk that was glued to his muzzle.
“Not going to talk? Okay, let me fill in the blanks, then. I’ll tell you what you detected. From New Canterlot City, your fellow purple smarts detected a motic surge somewhere in Manehatten. It contained an energy signature unlike any you’ve ever seen before. But given the ambient motic radiation from the war in Manehatten, your fellows were unable to pinpoint a specific location, nor learn anything more about the nature of the surge. So you decided to come into our city, equipped with better detection equipment, to try and assess this new threat or weapon or whatever it is. Did I miss anything?”
“Do you have a point?” Brightblade asked. The heretic laughed.
“Not really, no. Only that you’re risking your life, and the lives of all your ponies, over something you know nothing about. Is it worth it? Turn around, little Knight. Make the right choice, and you save the lives of everypony you brought into this nightmare place.”
“So there is something worth finding here?” Brightblade said with a grim smile. “Good to know. Tell me, how did you know when we would be dropping into Manehatten?” He glanced at Emberglow when he asked the question.
“That one’s not hard. We were already here, and we knew you were coming.” The heretic hesitated for a moment, before his voice grew somber. “You may not believe it, but we mourn for all loss of life. We wish it didn’t have to come to violence.”
“Spare me your lies. We won’t be leaving, heretic, but this chat was useful,” Brightblade said. The heretic sighed.
“For me as well, I suppose. Scurry back to your shell, little turtles. You’ll be safe until you reach your shield. Please know that I regret what I’m forced to do here. The mortars will resume shortly.”
With a snort of contempt, Brightblade turned and walked slowly and confidently back up the hill. Delver wasn’t nearly as nonchalant; his was a tactical retreat, never turning a flank or a rump towards the two heretics. Emberglow followed his lead, hoping that she didn’t appear as nervous as she felt. For their part, the heretics held their ground, the griffon still a solid stone, while the unicorn waved cheerfully at the retreating trio.
All of the remaining Knights were waiting for them at the top of the hill. Brightblade silently motioned with his hoof, and everypony followed him to the command tent. The last one in was Silverfeather, who closed the tent flap behind her.
“Delver, what do you make of that meeting?” Brightblade asked. Delver pursed his lips thoughtfully for a moment.
“Hard to say, sir. I don’t think he was lying about not wanting a fight. Also that power move of his might have been a bit of posturing. I’d be surprised if we didn’t outnumber them. It could be he was trying to scare us out of a fight because he knows he doesn’t have the numbers we do.”
“Time isn’t on our side, but numbers might be. Not much there beyond speculation,” Brightblade grumbled. “Emberglow, you saw his eyes, right? What does that mean?”
“Honestly, sir? I have no idea,” Emberglow said. “Heterochromia doesn’t occur naturally in ponies. It’s genetic in dogs, cats, and some other animals, but not us. It only happens as a result of injury or disease, or even some form of mutation. Perhaps he’s been blinded in one eye, though he didn’t act like it.”
“Not very helpful,” Brightblade muttered. “Oh well. Moving on. Do you have a location for us, Joyful Sound?” he asked, turning to the Knight in question. The quiet Mystic smiled slightly and nodded.
“Not exact, but I’ve got a general idea, sir,” she said. She laid a map of the area on the table. The hill was marked with a red circle, and there were five blue dots marked in an area extending to the west of the camp. “The good news is, it’s close. I know the readings are coming from the west, within a mile or two. The bad news is, I’m fairly certain they’re coming from underground.”
“Underground?” Brightblade asked.
“Yes, sir. That makes things difficult. The Manehatten Caves are a labyrinth of overlapping ruins of the old underground train system and mutant animal warrens. There’s no sense or logic to them, so I have no idea where we’ll need to enter in order to find our target. The blue dots are where I believe there are entrances into the Caves.”
“We need to get inside one of those caves, and see if we can find a way to our target. We don’t have much time. We’re going to be rationing food soon, and I don’t feel safe foraging in this forsaken place. Our best chance is to find what we’re looking for before we’re forced to retreat. Delver, are the marines ready for action?”
“Yes, Brightblade. They’ve been ready since our meeting with the heretics.”
“Good. How many do you think we’ll need to leave behind to keep the camp safe?”
“One fire team, and maybe a Knight or two,” Delver recommended. Brightblade nodded.
“Fire Team Corona will stay here and lay down covering fire for our exit. Gem, you’ll stay here to command the marines.”
“But, sir!” Gem protested. Brightblade waved a hoof.
“I know, Gem. Trust me, I get it. I need to leave an Adamant behind to oversee the camp. It can’t be Delver, and I suspect I’ll need both of our pegasus Knights with us, so it can’t be Silverfeather either. I’m sorry.” For once it seemed like Brightblade had managed some empathy, but even in this show of concern, he remained implacable. With effort, Gem managed to stow her protest and nod glumly. “Thank you. I’ll be leaving Joyful Sound as well. Keep trying to get a clearer reading on the location. Do you have a portable motic seismograph I can bring along?”
“I do, but it’s only accurate within a quarter mile. And ‘portable’ may be a slight exaggeration,” Joyful Sound said. Brightblade shrugged.
“I’ll have one of the marines carry it. Silverfeather, Emberglow, Bitterroot, Delver and I will be making a foray into the ruins, heading for…” he glanced at the map, pointing at the closest of the blue dots. “Right there.”
“This is insane. You know that, right?” Bitterroot cut in suddenly. Everypony stared at her. “You’re committing most of our forces to a foray into unknown territory, with an unknown number of enemies out there. It’s crazy.”
“What do you suggest, Bitterroot?” Brightblade said, far too calmly. “We’re low on supplies. Any scouts we send out are immediately fired on. We have no effective way of scouting these locations. Our shield is a ticking clock; the more explosives they drop on us, the more batteries it will take to power the barrier. Eventually we’ll run out, and be vulnerable. So do you have another suggestion?”
“Bitterroot, I think he’s right,” Delver said softly. “The situation is desperate, and we have little choice. But our opponent may have revealed some things during our meeting.”
“Oh?” Both Bitterroot and Brightblade looked curious.
“Just speculation, really. But I think our enemy may have tipped his hand a bit in his gloating. First of all, by asking us to leave before we could find what we’re looking for, he’s confirming that it’s important. Second, I think that by asking for a meeting, and suing for peace like he did, he’s admitting that he doesn’t have the pony power for a long term siege. He wants this over as quickly as we do. Either he’s low on troops, or he’s low on supplies as well. A foray into the ruins, a show of force, may be our best chance of assessing what kind of firepower he’s brought to Manehatten.”
“Thank you, Delver,” Brightblade said, sounding both surprised and genuinely grateful. “That was my thought as well.” Everypony nodded, and even Bitterroot seemed to be mollified. Brightblade’s expression became grim again. “Silverfeather, you’re in command of the marines.” Both Silverfeather and Gem Redmane flinched. It had been Tad’s role to command the marines, and liaison between the Knights and the common soldiers. “Gem, I expect to begin volleys of covering fire into the foliage beginning in twenty minutes. Let’s see what we can flush out before we have to charge into the unknown.”
With that, Brightblade dismissed the meeting. The ponies had their duties. Emberglow went to check on the two remaining medics; after Cliffjumper’s death the scout team was left without a medic, and Tumbleweed would be staying behind with the rest of Fire Team Corona. That meant only Sea Spray and Emberglow would be overseeing the medic duties for the soldiers, though she was sure Bitterroot would help with those duties when she could.
Gadget and Gearsmith were assembling with the other marines of Fire Team Epsilon, and Emberglow realized with a touch of guilt that she hadn’t really seen or spoken with them since she had awoken. When their eyes met, Gadget gave her a smile and a wave, and even Gearsmith managed to look happy to see her.
While Emberglow was checking her supplies and checking in with her medics, the mortar bombardment began again. This time Emberglow wasn’t in a tent when the explosion struck the top of the barrier. With a flash of magenta light, the entire barrier became visible, each hexagonal section brightening up as a smoky explosion struck the top. Everypony flinched, instinctively ducking down as the smoke drifted into the camp, then glanced around sheepishly before continuing about their business. It turned out to be the first strike of many, however. Every few minutes afterwards there was another explosion, another flash of magenta light, another collective flinch from the soldiers below.
“Will they ever run out of ammo?” Bitterroot asked Emberglow rhetorically, when the ponies that were leaving on the foray were gathered together, ready to charge into the unknown. Her voice was like her name, clearly upset about something. Emberglow shrugged.
“If their focus is on bombarding the camp, then we’ll be safer out there, right?” Emberglow asked. Bitterroot sighed.
“Probably. I don’t know.”
“Is everything okay?” Emberglow asked, lifting a hoof to rest companionably on the older mare’s shoulder. Bitterroot smiled wanly.
“Yeah. Maybe. I’m just getting a bad feeling about this little venture. I know Delver’s right, but still. We know absolutely nothing about the heretics’ numbers or forces, and it makes me nervous. We’re going in blind. I know we don’t have a lot of choice, but that doesn’t mean I have to feel good about it.” Bitterroot huffed, shaking off Emberglow’s hoof in the process. “Bah. Just ignore me, Emberglow. Just an old jumpy soldier’s concerns, nothing more.”
“I’d never dismiss a veteran’s concerns,” Emberglow said, smiling gently at the older mare. Bitterroot snorted with amusement.
“You callin’ me old, youngster?” the older mare said, deliberately making her voice shaky and cranky in a comical imitation of an even older pony. “Well I’ll have you know back in my day rookies showed a lot more respect for their elders.” She looked like she could have gone on, but Emberglow was already giggling. Bitterroot grinned. “Thanks for listening to my worries.”
Soon enough, Brightblade gave the order for the marines who would be staying behind to begin sweeping the tree line with suppressive fire. A sharp staccato of bullet fire erupted along the trench, peppering the tree line with lead. There was nopony to be seen, and Emberglow wondered if their barrage was even accomplishing anything.
“Keep low to the ground. No flying. Knights, cast your shields and stay in front, our spells will keep the others safer from bullets,” Brightblade said, pausing long enough as the five Knights cast their spells. “Let’s go. Follow me!” The Knight Mystic reared up on his hind legs, bringing his forehooves down with a dramatic stomp before charging up and over the earthworks and down the hill. It took only seconds for the five Knights, leading nearly twenty assorted marines and scouts, to reach the bottom of the hill and the tree line.
The heretics hiding in the trees, however, were not fooled by the covering fire nor the swiftness of the charge. Over the sounds of the friendly fire they were galloping away from, they began to hear closer, hostile fire from the trees. Emberglow felt the impact of one of the bullets against her magical shield, right near her cheek; it would have taken out her jaw and most of the right side of her face, if she hadn’t been magically protected. As more shots rang out, there was a cry of pain behind her, then another. At least a few bullets had made it through. She didn’t recognize the pained voices, which meant it probably wasn’t one of her close friends. She immediately felt guilty for the thought.
Once they were in the relative safety of the trees, Brightblade slowed to a trot. Emberglow took a moment to look over the marines. Indeed, two of the ponies had been shot. A pegasus scout was limping, bleeding from one of his hind legs. Emberglow’s heart leapt to her throat when she saw the other wounded pony.
Sergeant Arrow’s uniform and chest fur were matted with blood. She was panting with exertion, her eyes glazed over with pain. When all of the other ponies slowed down inside the tree line, she slumped to the forest floor limply. Emberglow rushed over, ignoring Brightblade’s impatient whinny. She was gratified that Bitterroot was right by her side. A quick glance showed that Sea Star was already bandaging the wounded scout.
The wound was deep, and Emberglow couldn’t see an exit. From the entrance point, the bullet was lodged somewhere within the sergeant’s chest, perhaps in a lung. She cast a quick diagnosis spell and nearly sobbed at the results.
“The bullet’s in her heart,” Emberglow said, and Bitterroot swore. There was no way to heal the sergeant with magic, in the middle of a forest, with no surgery equipment and no time. “Sergeant Arrow, can you hear me?” The sergeant was breathing hard, gasping and panting with a dazed, agonized look on her face.
“It…hurts,” the sergeant rasped, and Emberglow gently cradled the dying marine in her hooves.
“I know, sergeant. I’ll make the pain go away, okay? I’m going to make it all better.” Emberglow could feel her eyes growing wet. She cast a single spell, just enough to make the sergeant fall into a deep sleep. The earth pony mare stopped breathing only a few seconds after, her eyes glassy and empty. Emberglow closed them softly with one hoof.
“We don’t have time to delay,” Brightblade said, trotting over. The other marines of Fire Team Epsilon were trying to look stoic, but several of them were struggling. Gadget kept her distance, but was openly crying silently.
“We can’t just leave her,” Emberglow said.
“We’ll bring her back to camp on the way back,” Brightblade said, his voice uncharacteristically gentle. “Saints remember you, marine. Your courage did you credit.”
It should have made her feel better that the usually antagonistic Knight Mystic would spare some words to honor Sergeant Arrow, but instead Emberglow just felt irrationally angry. Hadn’t this very same Mystic implied that all of the marines from Arrow’s fire team were just as responsible for the mess in Port Luminescence as Bubblegum was? And now he pretended to honor her, all while also acting like he was impatient to leave the sergeant behind and get on with their task. With a deep breath, she nodded, trying to get a handle on her anger as she slipped the still body to the forest floor.
“I’ll come back for you, sergeant,” Emberglow promised. Part of her wanted to swear vengeance as well, but that didn’t feel natural or appropriate. Most of the marines, even those scouts who hadn’t been in Sergeant Arrow’s team, stopped and saluted the still form as they passed. But Emberglow couldn’t tear herself away. Even with her promise to return to the body, she still felt glued to the spot.
“Emberglow,” Bitterroot said gently, laying a hoof on Emberglow’s shoulders. “Emberglow, we have to go.”
“How can we just leave her here?” Emberglow whimpered.
“She’ll be fine,” Bitterroot said soothingly, gently pulling on the younger mare to get her moving. “She’s past feeling any pain now. The Saints are already preparing her for rebirth, this is just a shell. We need to go.” Emberglow finally looked up from the body, meeting the older mare’s eyes. Bitterroot wasn’t crying but there was sadness there. Emberglow’s own vision was misty. Gadget had hung back as well, her wet eyes concerned and compassionate.
“Okay,” Emberglow said, and began trotting. There were still bullets zipping around, after all, even though the dense foliage was effective protection. The marines and Knights packed in close, staying within sight and shouting range. It would be quite easy to get lost in this overgrown mess.
Suddenly the gunfire cut off, leaving the forest dramatically silent. Brightblade, out in front of the group, harshly motioned with his hooves for each pony to get low. They crept forward, cautious and afraid, moving a snail’s pace towards the entrance to the Manehatten Caves from Brightblade’s map. Suddenly, the forest up ahead thinned to nearly nothing. A cracked, pitted asphalt road bisected the forest, with tufts of tall grass growing up in between the cracks. The street was completely silent. There were no sounds of bird or insect life. Emberglow thought they’d probably all been frightened into hiding by the explosions and gunfire. It was probably a good thing; whatever wildlife haunted these ruins could stay as far away as possible, if Emberglow could have her way. She thought about the frog monstrosity that had nearly eaten her and shuddered.
“Ambush spot?” Brightblade asked softly to Delver. Delver nodded. Across the wide street were the broken shells of several buildings. On the ground at the edge of this tree line, just in front of Emberglow, was a metal sign propped up on a pile of stones, marred with dirt and moss. Absently, Emberglow brushed the debris from the sign. It was a green street sign, with a bold font declaring ‘5th Avenue’.
Emberglow’s mind wandered a bit as she wondered at the kinds of ponies that would have looked at this sign when this city was alive. They probably hadn’t even bothered to look; they probably knew the roads like she knew her own back home. Maybe everypony that had walked past this sign had ignored it, never even realizing it was there. And now here it was, somehow still intact after a thousand years of war, neglect, and decay.
“Could be,” Delver whispered back. He pointed a hoof at a few of the broken brick walls across the street from them. “I’d hide rifle ponies behind there and there,” he motioned to two spots. “Do you see our cave entrance?”
“See the sign over there?” Brightblade pointed. The sign in question was partially melted, though still attached to a scorched section of brick. Emberglow could make out three letters, ‘UBW’. “That probably said ‘subway’. That’s what these ponies called their underground train system. I’ll bet it’s very close. We’ll need to cross the road to search for it.”
“Meanwhile, crossing that open stretch leaves the marines completely open to rifle fire,” Delver said, and Brightblade nodded.
“It will have to just be us,” the Knight Mystic concluded. “Have the marines hunker down here, and provide us with covering fire if they can. Those of us with magical shields will scout out the other side of the road.”
“Yes, sir,” Delver said. “You heard the plan, marines,” he called back to the assembled ponies. “Gearsmith, you’re the senior marine in your fire team. I’m giving you a field promotion to sergeant. You and Scout Sergeant Leaf Turn are in charge over here.” He motioned to the green pegasus mare who was sergeant of the scouts. “Stay low, and stay in the trees.”
“Yes, sir,” the two responded.
“Once we’re out, we’ll head straight for that sign. If that doesn’t draw out any fire, we’ll fan out and begin looking through the ruins for our cave entrance. Delver and Emberglow, head south along the road. Silverfeather, myself, and Bitterroot will head north. Don’t get out of earshot.”
On Brightblade’s orders, the five Knights drew out their weapons and marched into the open ground of the shattered street. Each step was agony; Emberglow was sure a wave of lead was going to pour down on them the second they reached the open, unprotected expanse. But nothing came. After a moment’s hesitation, the Knight Mystic ordered them all forward. Step after cautious step, the five of them made it to the other side of the road and split away, just as Brightblade had ordered. Delver turned confidently to the south, with Emberglow following behind, her spear clenched tightly in one hoof, ready to attack as soon as an enemy showed its face.
The wreckage of the buildings around them was everywhere. Masonry, debris, and metal bits such as struts and girders scattered about haphazardly. The ground, where it could be seen between bits of building, was muddy. Delver and Emberglow picked their way through the ruins, looking for any hint of a cave entrance. They were mostly silent, sharing only a muttered word of direction, or a warning about a loose brick or hidden tripping hazard.
When the attack came, there was no hint or warning at all. In one moment they were stepping cautiously through the ruins, and in the next, a metallic figure cannonballed into Delver, knocking him aside and slamming into an upright brick wall with a thud and a crack. Emberglow saw Delver roll gracefully under his assailant, coming up with his hooves underneath him rather than on his side or upside down.
The attacker had no weapon. It took Emberglow a moment to identify the griffon from their meeting with the heretic earlier. The creature flared his wings wide, rearing up so that he could slash at Delver with his sharp claws and peck with his beak. He was fast, hitting at Delver more often than he was missing. Even though most of the strikes scraped off of Delver’s blue armor and helmet, his claws had found flesh enough times that Emberglow could see blood. She set herself to charge at the griffon when she saw a glint of glowing light from the corner of her eye. She only had a quarter second to dodge, ducking just as a light blue beam of magical force shot at her from behind one of the larger wall sections, firing straight for her neck. She managed to dodge most of the beam, though it still struck her armor just on the top of her criniere.
Though Emberglow had ducked under most of the beam, the impact of the magic against her enchanted armor still shoved her like she’d been tackled. She was knocked sideways, tumbling into the rough stone and metal debris. Sharp corners and edges scraped against her armor, and Emberglow staggered to her feet as quickly as possible, trying to take stock of this new attacker.
Facing Emberglow was a unicorn mare, wearing no armor but a loose grey robe with bits of green and brown foliage sewn into it. It was clever camouflage. The mare was a pale, pastel pink color, with a white mane cut short and held back with a headband that rested just under her horn. The accursed appendage was glowing with a glistening white aura as she advanced slowly and nervously. Her purple eyes were locked on Emberglow with a terrified sort of look, and she could swear the young heretic was trembling. Emberglow steadied herself, prepared to dodge another beam, but it never came. Instead, a pile of rocks floated into the air, surrounded in a white glow. Her eyes widened just as they shot towards her.
Emberglow yelped in pain when the first rock struck her just above her eye. The second bounced off her flank, leaving a mark on her flanchard. Soon she was being pelted by dozens of rocks, most ricocheting harmlessly off her armor, but some few finding their way between cracks. Emberglow gritted her teeth and began to advance on the mare, but progress was glacial. She stumbled and flinched as the mare backed away slowly, further away from the other two combatants.
Emberglow had been dodging and blocking missiles for a few seconds when she finally glanced back and saw how far away she’d grown from Delver and the griffon. She glanced back at the unicorn, who was preparing another barrage of stinging stones, and decided not to keep playing her game. She tried to duck behind a wall to gain a moment to think and breathe, but apparently levitation magic didn’t take much finesse or line of sight. Even out of sight, the heretic still bombarded her with projectiles. If Emberglow was going to win this, she realized, she’d need to use her wings.
Flaring her feathery limbs out of her sides and ignoring the sharp sting of impacts against them, she leaped into the air, gaining altitude as quickly as she could pump her wings. She felt the rocks, some whizzing past her and some impacting on her hooves and flanks as she rushed through the skies, out and over the broken street. She heard the hooves of the unicorn pounding against the street, chasing after her, just as the marines hiding in the tree line opened fire. With a yelp of terror, the mare retreated back into the cover of the ruins across from the tree line.
Emberglow could tell, however, that something was wrong. Sounds of gunfire came from the trees, as well as shouts of pain and the impact of weapons. The marines were being attacked from the other side. She glanced back at the ruins, where Delver was still fighting against the griffon. The creature was doing his best to stay within Delver’s reach, making it difficult for him to take full advantage of his weapon. Meanwhile, the griffon was making good use of his own claws and their much shorter, more dexterous reach. Delver might have been stronger than the griffon, but the silver armored creature was certainly faster than Delver. Delver could barely even use the haft of his spear to parry the incoming claw slashes. Emberglow, hovering just above the cracked road, swooped down in a diagonal dive towards the pair. This time, she was ready when the unicorn struck out with her magic.
Just as she saw the glimmer of the oncoming beam from the corner of her eye, Emberglow furled her wings, turning her graceful dive into a steep drop. The beam missed her, and Emberglow flared out her wings just before she impacted with the ground, coming to a rest right behind the griffon.
“Dad, behind you!” the heretic screamed, just as Emberglow was preparing to lunge with her spear. Her weapon, headed straight for the creature’s leonine hindquarters, sliced through empty air instead as the armored griffon took to the air himself. A quick hop and spin, aided by a single flap of her wings, brought Emberglow to where she was standing side by side with the Knight Adamant.
“You okay?” she asked him. He was breathing hard, but nodded.
“Yeah. He’s good,” Delver said. “You?”
“Bruised. Still standing, by the Saint’s grace. The marines are being attacked.”
“Any news from the other three?”
“I couldn’t see them when I went airborne,” Emberglow admitted. They didn’t have much more time to speak; the griffon was advancing slowly, his claws at the ready. The unicorn hung back, her horn lowered as if she were about to charge. It still glowed.
“Regroup with the marines,” Delver said. “I saw the unicorn wouldn’t follow you into the street.” The two of them backed away slowly until they were in the middle of the broken street. Their two attackers were reluctant to follow. “Can you fly north and get in touch with Brightblade? I’ll try to keep the griffon from following.”
“On it!” Emberglow said, coiling her legs to spring into the air. Brightblade, Silverfeather, and Bitterroot couldn’t have gotten far, but Emberglow couldn’t make out any noise from her companions to the north. She stayed in the middle of the broken street, noting that the two heretics had been reluctant to brave that open space before. Though she was in a hurry, she spared a quick glance behind her.
The two heretics had apparently switched targets. She saw Delver locked in combat with the unicorn, dodging levitated missiles just like she had before while he tried to close with his spear. Meanwhile, the silver armored griffon was right on her tail, closing fast with his claws leading and a grim expression on his face. He was closing fast, and it took effort for Emberglow not to yelp in terror. This griffon would not hesitate to kill her. A few glances towards the tree line told her that she would probably not be getting any aid from that quarter; she couldn’t see any of the marines, but the sounds of the battle were intensifying. She flew along the street, traveling nearly a hundred yards before sloping upwards at a sharp angle, trying to spot the other Knights.
She had only a second to look. The griffon’s first attack nipped at her hind legs, scratching against her armor and throwing her off balance. This time she did let out a yelp, spinning clumsily in the air to try and bring her spear to bear against the enemy. He swept to his right, barely dodging her strike, continuing on in a circle around her to try and stay behind her. She might not have been the strongest flier, but her magically enhanced speed and strength wasn’t for nothing. She was at least able to keep the more agile flyer from completely outmaneuvering her.
Emberglow made no more moves to stab at the griffon, but merely tried to keep the point of her spear between her and the creature. She moved the weapon around in a jerking, bouncing motion, keeping the griffon’s eyes on the point and off of what the rest of her was doing. It was something they had learned in the Ivy Seminary. If she kept the spear tip moving unpredictably, it would be much harder for the griffon to close the distance between them and take advantage of his much more agile claws.
It was just enough to keep him at bay while she tried to see how her allies were faring. Finally she caught a flash of white fur among the ruins beneath her. A split second glance showed her that the three were in trouble; Brightblade was fighting off the yellow armored heretic Knight from the earlier meeting, while Silverfeather was slumped limply over Bitterroot’s back. Emberglow folded her wings and dropped into a dive towards the commander and his combatant.
“Sir, incoming!” she heard the griffon shout from behind her. His voice was a deep, rumbly bass, and he projected it with all the skill and practice of a drill sergeant’s parade voice. The heretic Knight looked up with plenty of time to react to Emberglow’s dive. Brightblade tried his best to take advantage of the unicorn’s distraction. Lunging sharply with his spear, the Knight Mystic encountered nothing but thin air as the unicorn’s horn lit and Emberglow heard a pop of displaced air. The unicorn disappeared entirely and reappeared nearly twenty yards away, with a slightly dizzy and dazed look in his mismatched eyes. The griffon pursuing Emberglow changed course to land in front of the unicorn while he got his bearings.
“Sir, the marines are under attack!” Emberglow cried out to Brightblade, who was cursing as he set his legs to charge the unicorn. Her yell made him hesitate and look up at her, before giving Emberglow a nod of confirmation.
“To the trees!” he ordered. Emberglow dropped to the ground next to the three ponies, giving Bitterroot an inquisitive glance.
“Injured wing, possible concussion,” Bitterroot said sharply. Emberglow nodded, beginning a rune casting as the three of them ran, with Silverfeather still slumped on the older healer’s back, towards the tree line and the battle there. She finished her spell on the move right as she saw the unicorn heretic cast his own spell, his horn glowing yellow as he fired a line of bright sparks straight up into the air above them. With a triumphant smirk, he looped his forehooves around the griffon as his horn lit again, and for a second time there was a sharp pop of teleportation. The two heretics disappeared, and Emberglow was left with the mental image of the heretic’s smirk right underneath his mismatched yellow and red eyes.
“What was…” Brightblade began, then looked up, his ears pinned and his eyes wide with horror. “Shields!” Emberglow didn’t have any time to realize what was happening before the explosion threw her to the ground.