//------------------------------//
// 20: The Cloven of the Sun 
// Story: Feathered Hearts - Continuation and Chronicles 
// by Firesight 
//------------------------------//

Two hours later, evening was approaching as the Ravens remained out on reconnaissance, having not taken a human radio with them when they found its range too limited beneath the area enchantment to be useful. While they were gone, her perimeter forces repeatedly noted movement in the underbrush of the woods, but neither her soldiers nor the human Marines could get ‘eyes on’ them in the words of the latter.

“We’re being watched,” Giraldi said with certainty as his sharp harrier eyes scanned the scrub brush. “The question is, by whom, and why have they not yet attacked?”

“Maybe our position’s too strong,” she suggested hopefully. “I’d be tempted to stay put except for our lack of supplies. We’ve only got a day’s worth of rations unless we could kill a flying boar or something. The problem there is, the humans would have to cook it, and we don’t dare set fires with dragons around.”

“We’re okay on rations, sir,” Imlay’s voice crackled over the radio. “We’ve got plenty. Enough to share, though I don’t know how well you’d like our stuff.”

Gilda grimaced, having seen—and smelled—some of the odd forms of paste they were eating out of the strange shiny bags they had; whatever it was, it was neither appetizing nor anything she wanted to try except out of desperation. “We’ll hope it doesn’t come to that, Corporal.”

“Then without even trying them, you’ve learned to dislike our MREs as much as us, sir,” the wry reply came back. 

Giraldi smiled, but then turned serious again. “It just seems odd, sir. If our enemies know about us, then they could have called in the dragons at any time. And yet, they have not.” His words sent a fresh shiver through her. “I am having a very hard time making sense of our situation, or the actions of our apparent foe.”

Her ‘radio’ then crackled to life again. “Centurion? We’ve got more movement on the perimeter,” Imlay reported quietly. 

“Confirmed,” Fortrakt’s low voice came through next from where he was patrolling with a few soldiers low over the clearing, keeping below the level of the tree canopy. “There’s something big moving in the tall grasses towards our positions. Whatever they are, they’re being careful to stay out of sight.”

“Do you smell anything?” she asked next.

“No sir,” he replied. “They’re downwind of us, unless you want me to try getting behind them. That would mean I’d have to get pretty close.”

“Don’t,” she immediately said. “You’d be too easy to ambush. But it would seem our foe is intelligent if they know to keep us upwind.”

“Intelligent or instinctive. It could be grass lions,” Giraldi suggested. “They’ve been known to do it.”

“Grass lions?” Imlay asked quietly; she couldn’t hear any other voices on the ‘frequency’, but she knew his squad was listening in.

“Native predators of the South region,” Gilda explained. “Not really lions, and not intelligent, before you ask. They’re basically big cats with enormous canines.”

“Sir, I doubt it would be grass lions,” Fortrakt replied from above her. “We can see at least three sources of movement through the brush, and—”

“And grass lions are solitary. They hunt alone,” Gilda completed the thought with a frown. “Okay, it doesn’t matter. We know that there’s something out there, so let’s be prepared for hostiles. What matters right now is that we have to get out of here and make for Tierra via the steadholdt. And sooner rather than later.”

Imlay nodded again. “Understood, sir. What’s the plan?”

Gilda pondered it for a moment. “We wait for our Raven friends to return and receive their report. Depending on what they found, we either head for the ground carriage first, or march directly for the steadholt of Bale before evening light fades,” she said. “It should take about an hour or so to make it to the latter. Ninety minutes if we detour.”

“Decanus Nydia is still resting,” Giraldi reminded her. 

“Actually… no, she’s not.” Nydia broke into the conversation, her voice a bit bleary as she approached the group. “I might like some more sleep, but I’m sufficiently recharged and ready for further action now. I could use some food and water, though,” she requested with a salute and bared throat.

Gilda returned the honor instantly. “Welcome back, Decanus. Tara? Chris? Bring her a meal and a canteen,” Gilda instructed over her shoulder to them, to which they nodded and left, heading over to the intact coach they’d been storing their supplies in. They’d been mostly keeping to themselves and mildly grumbling at their earlier treatment until Giraldi reminded them that by doing supply runs, they were keeping soldiers on the front line and strengthening the defense.

“But we want to be on the front line too…” Marco muttered at one point, but Gilda didn’t reply, finding the idea ridiculous given they had no armor, and were untrained in both human and griffon weapons. 

There’s brave, and then there’s just stupid, Marco… she sighed, finding his desire to help endearing but his inability to see that he wasn’t fit for this kind of fight infuriating.

“We should eat too, Centurion,” Giraldi told her from her side. “Our soldiers are fed, as are the Marines out of those strange pouches they had. If we’re going to be moving soon, we don’t know when we’ll get the chance again.”

“Right,” she agreed. “Marco?”

He got up with a grin. “There’s no fried chicken or meat stew on the menu, but… coming up, girlfriend,” he said with a wink, earning a half-hearted glower and a grin from Giraldi. “And remember that Nydia said you needed more protein? Well, you know where to get it!” He motioned down his body and gave the same lewd buck of his hips he’d made towards Dana his first day in Arnau, causing her to flush and Giraldi to chortle.

“Dude. Is Flip-boy actually flirting with her?” Jamal asked over the radio, which Gilda had quickly learned had allowed for large-scale conversations instead of only one-on-one like their gems. “Did he just ask her for a blowjob?”

“He did, and that means he’s got bigger balls than you, Jamal,” Henderson’s amused voice came next, followed by a series of snickers. 

“Yeah, ‘cause I’d like to keep mine intact!” the reply came back, along with human laughter. “I’m not sticking my dick in a beak!”

“Why not? I know for a fact you’ve already had it in far worse things than that!” Brennan teased next. “Remember that brothel girl in Bangkok?”

“Of course I do—she gave me the fucking clap!” he said in disgust. “Still worth it, though…”

“Cut the phone sex, all of you,” Imlay said tersely. “We’ve got movement again. It’s starting to get darker, so mount blacklights and sweep the area. Report any contacts immediately, but nobody and I mean nobody is to fire without a positive ID and a hostile act!” he warned them all.

A series of acknowledgments came back, followed by declarations that there were no magical shrouds that their mysterious violet lights could detect as they swept the brush and trees with their odd beams.

“If they haven’t attacked yet, it may only be because they lack numbers,” Giraldi suggested. “But that may change the longer we stay. And with respect, sir, I do not relish the idea of spending the night in this depression and allowing them to concentrate against us. I would also remind you that our human friends lack good night vision.”

Gilda shook her head as Marco returned with their meals, delivering them with an exaggerated flourish like she was royalty. “What did I tell you about bowing to me?” she reminded him even as she found she couldn’t be mad at him—he was just trying to keep things light, after all. “Just tell Chris and Tara to be ready to move, Marco. Our wounded are fit for duty again, so we’ll be leaving as soon as the Ravens return.”

“Thanks for letting us know, “ Marco acknowledged with a nod as he went off to inform them, leaving her and Giraldi alone. 

They continued to discuss tactics as they ate a standard Kingdom military ration, consisting of dried meats and fruits accompanied by a stiff scone. They washed it all down with canteen water into which they mixed a small measure of overly-syrupy switchel; the latter was sickly-sweet but just a small amount of it could rapidly replenish energy. 

“The Ravens are due back soon. Regardless of what they report, I need a few sky griffons in the air to make sure no one is creeping towards us. When we move out, put our earth griffons—yourself included—out on the flanks in two Fugas with the Marines supporting them,” she ordered Giraldi. 

“By your command,” he said with a salute as they finished their food. Gilda swore she barely blinked when suddenly the three Ravens were in front of her. 

Despite her best efforts, she wasn’t able to stifle a flinch—as there’d been no challenge, they’d gotten through her sentries unseen! “Centurion! Beg to report.” Ebon Umbreon saluted her.

“Proceed,” she said slightly wanly as she thumped her chest.

“We found two nearby forest paths and the quickest route out of the woods to the main roads, though our recommendation would be to avoid them in favor of the side ones for now. We saw nothing we could identify as enemy soldiers and encountered no further magical traps we could detect—and believe me when I say our equipment enables us to reliably detect them from extended range.”

“I’m sure they do. And the overturned coach?” she prompted, wondering if Raven ‘equipment’ was their own or supplied by the Council of Crows.

“When we reached it, we found four dead griffons, all low-ranked Guard soldiers, as well as three ponies inside and around it. There was no indication of who killed them, as we found no blood or bodies from the attackers. All we can say for certain is that three Caleponians and their escort were slaughtered brutally, cut down by blades without any reason or mercy—even their young foal.” He bowed his head. “There is, however, some good news.” 

“And that is…?” She couldn’t even begin to imagine what good news could come out of such an awful situation.

In response, he tossed her an orange, which she caught in a single set of talons. “It was a produce cart. And it’s still loaded with fruit and fresh bread. We can use it to replenish our supplies. Perhaps we could even take it with us, as it requires only minor repairs and would take just a single earth griffon to pull.”

“That is good news,” Gilda granted, though it certainly didn’t feel good given the loss of life and the sheer savagery involved. And why does something about that report seem off…? She couldn’t immediately put her wing on it. “That’s reason enough to stop there. If we can’t repair it quickly, we’ll load up what we can. And you clearly weren’t attacked yourselves?” she had to ask, only to receive a shake of the head. 

“No, sir. But there’s something strange…” he said with a glance at his still-goggled comrades, their eyes unreadable. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but there’s almost no animal sounds present. It’s a late summer evening, and yet there’s not a noise to be heard. Neither birds, nor frogs, nor crickets.”

That gave both Gilda and Giraldi pause. She strained her hidden ears, only to quickly realize the Shadow Decurion was correct—that there was little animal noise to be heard on a warm summer night was very odd, if not outright ominous.

“You’re right. Not even the crows are cawing,” the Optio stated. “And they normally never shut up. That can only mean…” he trailed off as Marco returned. 

“Wow. So you guys are Ravens?” He looked them over from head to toe as behind him, Chris looked slightly freaked to see them. “We’ve heard about you. So you’re basically griffon ninjas?”

The three glanced at each other, then back at him; at least one looked annoyed, though it was hard to tell beneath her dull grey coat and goggles. “Greetings, Marco Lakan. We are a millennium-old secret warrior society in service to the Gryphon Kingdom. I know not where you learned that term, but you will forgive us if we greatly prefer not to be associated with the ancient equine assassin clans of the east,” Ebon Umbreon said politely but pointedly. 

“Their services are for sale. Ours are not,” the eagless who had insulted Gilda while in the guise of a Paladin added, her beak tight.

“Oh!” Marco looked chagrined, and at a warning glare from Gilda, he stepped back. “Sorry, uh, not trying to offend.”

“Forgive him. Take it from me that he never tries, but he manages anyway,” Gilda said dryly.

“Quite all right. For the record, our assignment was to protect you and all humans after the Ibex attack, Mister Lakan. And so they remain, despite what your frightened friend over there may think,” the Shadow Decurion nodded over to Chris. “Though from what we have learned, it would seem your fellow human ‘Marines’ need little protection.”

“Neither do we, if they’d just—” he began to say, only to fall silent again. “Never mind. Good to meet you. Uh, carry on.” He walked off slightly stiffly.

“Hard though it is to believe, he grows on you. They all do.” Giraldi noted somewhat wryly after he’d reunited with his friends. “And properly trained, take it from me that they can defeat us in single combat.”

“Be that as it may, Marco Lakan is hiding something,” the female said with certainty, leaving Gilda wondering what her name was and why the third member of their group never spoke. “All three of them are.” 

“What makes you say that?” Gilda asked, exchanging a quizzical look with Giraldi.

“Experience,” the Decurion replied. “He’s angry and resentful about being left defenseless when he believes he can fight. And judging by the way the female keeps motioning to her pack slung over her shoulders, there’s something in it of great interest to them. Something they very much want to pull out.”

“Personal weapons would be my guess,” the first Raven eagless added to a nod from her silent sister. “But we will leave that question for you to deal with, Centurion. Orders?”

Personal weapons…? Gilda pondered the conclusion and found that it fit. It makes sense, if they said before they’d be in big trouble if they were revealed. I can’t imagine they would have been allowed to bring their own arms. Are the Ravens right and that’s what they were hiding all this time…? 

She couldn’t help but wonder what their weapons would be, and how they would differ from those of the Marines. But nor could she consider the question just then. “This place has been cozy, but it’s time to leave it,” she told them. “We’ll stop for supplies at the cart, then make for the Steadholdt of Bale and attempt to arrive before nightfall. We’ll set our defense there while we dispatch fast flyers to Tierra requesting help. You said you knew the safe routes there? Guide us.”

“‘Safe’ is a relative term out here, but by your command, Centurion.” Ebon Umbreon bared his throat and saluted. “Just keep your weapons at the ready and the human civilians at the center of your protective ring. We are being watched, and I cannot fathom that our foe would not attempt to attack us along the way. If it were me, I would strike at a convenient chokepoint.” 

“As would I,” Giraldi said. “I have played these games with Ibexian irregulars on the border with the Ascendency before, and this feels uncomfortably similar. They tended to target commanders first, so I recommend that we be separated so we cannot both be taken out at once. I will travel at the fore of our formation, while you walk further back with the main body. Keep the human Marines as the first line of defense to the flanks and rear, and the earth griffons, the second. The Ravens will cover the front with their repeaters, which gives them the striking power of an entire Turma.”

“Makes sense. What about our sky griffon soldiers and Fortrakt?” she prompted. “If we’re killed, he’s next in command.”

“With due respect to him, he is not ready for this level of leadership,” Giraldi replied. “But based on what I’ve seen today, he keeps his head about him in a crisis and can be trusted with a decade or two. Put him in charge of our aerial element and have him fly top cover with emphasis to watch for movement. Instruct him to stay below the level of the area enchantment and immediately reinforce any threatened sector. Perhaps Decanus Nydia has some spellwork that can help hide him and his force?”

“Good thinking,” Gilda agreed. “And speaking of the Decanus, I’ll put her in the center of our march formation with the human civilians. She’s our most valuable asset right now and we need to protect her at all costs.”

“A wise precaution. And superb advice, Optio Galen Giraldi,” the Decurion approved with a bared throat. “Your dossier said you were a skilled and able soldier, only held back from an officer rank for embarrassing a Senator’s son. I see now that appraisal was correct. Pity, though—I would have loved to have tested you in single combat during our promised duel. Don’t worry; we would have let you and the Centurion win,” he finished with a wink before they spread wings and took flight, leaving Gilda and Giraldi staring after them as they disappeared into the branches ahead. 

Dossier… a wan Gilda couldn’t help but wonder again how she’d ended up in the middle of all this intrigue. If they were keeping tabs on Giraldi, does that also mean they have a dossier on ME? 





It took less than a minute to pass word; five minutes more to get organized for movement and assign both human and griffon soldiers where they needed to be. Imlay wasn’t entirely happy about being asked to guard the flanks and rear, but he at least recognized that the Ravens were the best scouts they had and could cover the fore almost entirely by themselves. Once their role and abilities were described to him, that was.

“Is this place feudal Japan or ancient Rome?” he muttered to himself at one point. “Fine, I can’t say I entirely trust the idea of some griffon spooks taking point, but I’ll grant they’re probably the best for the job.”

“Spooks?” Gilda repeated.

“They’re—never mind. We’ll be ready to move in five, sir,” he promised with a salute. “I’ll put one fire team on both flanks and the third on the rear. Fill in the gaps with your earth griffons, and make sure Gletscher up there calls it in immediately if he sees an attack brewing.”

“That’s Decurion Gletscher, Corporal,” she reminded him with a glance over to where Fortrakt was organizing his flyers. “You wanted proper respect for your rank, so be sure you show it in return.”

“Yes, sir!” he instantly stiffened and saluted again. “Sorry, we Marines tend to be a bit more informal than Griffon soldiers.”

“I’ve noticed. But this is not the time. Be ready to move forward on my order,” she said somewhat shortly as she returned the honor.

“Wilco,” he replied then blinked at her bemused look. “Sorry, that’s short for ‘will comply’.”

“I’ll try and remember that,” she said, wondering again as they parted if the humans would ever run out of new terms to teach her.

She found Chris, Tara and Marco next, explaining to them directly what was happening and what was required of them. “You three stay in the center of the formation with Raleigh, under the protection of Decanus Nydia,” she told them. “If anything happens, stay within her protective bubble—she can cast shield spells—and obey any orders given you by me, Giraldi, or even Fortrakt if he flies by.”

“Fine,” Marco said sullenly. “What about Raleigh? He’s still moaning about his leg.”

“Nydia told him he could walk now, but he doesn’t believe her. He’s afraid to try.” Tara rolled her eyes.

“Because you can’t heal a broken leg in an hour!” Raleigh complained from where he was still lying down with the leg splinted. “It’s still sore, too!”

“As you can hear, he’s done nothing but whine. I don’t suppose Nydia could slap a soundproofing spell over his mouth?” Marco said loudly enough for the Ambassador’s aide to hear, earning a glare.

“Or better yet, why not just leave him behind? He’s dead weight anyway,” Chris suggested in contempt with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Hey!”

“Tempting,” Gilda admitted under her breath as she clenched her beak, deciding that the portly human probably wouldn’t be able to keep up with a hard march anyway. “I’ll have Giraldi detail an earth griffon to carry you, Mister Raleigh.”

“Thank you,” he said somewhat grudgingly, earning a curt nod from Gilda before she turned her attention back to the three civilians.

“We’ll be ready to move—and before you ask, we should be able to keep up just fine thanks to our workouts with Sergeant Reyes. Is there anything else?” Tara then asked.

“Yes,” Gilda said in a serious tone, then raised her eyes to theirs. “Answer me honestly—are you three carrying weapons? The Ravens believe you are.”

From the way they froze at her question, she knew instantly that they were.

“Well, that is, uh—” Marco stammered, while Chris’s pale cheeks turned a more ruddy hue.

“Your own personal cannons?” she then guessed, watching their reactions carefully.  

“Yes,” her human mate finally admitted in defeat after a glance at Chris and Tara. “And you’ll forgive us if we really don’t want to be without them out here.”

“Neither would I. Then despite what the Corporal claimed, do you know how to use them?” she then asked, to which they all nodded sharply. 

“Without going into too many specifics, we’ve had plenty of time on the range, and even some tactical training,” Chris assured her.

“Then by my order, arm yourselves!” she instructed them to a series of dropped jaws. “At this point, I don’t know what we’re up against, but I won’t leave any of you helpless to face it.”

They stared at her stunned, then smiled. “Sir, yes sir!” Marco sketched her a salute. 

“You have weapons?” Raleigh overheard them. “Corporal!” he shouted for Imlay.

“Be quiet!” he was promptly shushed by Chief Jacobs.

“Reporting, sir. Please don’t yell. What’s the problem?” Imlay asked as he walked up.

“They just admitted they have weapons!” Raleigh accused. “Confiscate them immediately!”

“Oh?” he asked them, his eyes narrowing. “What weapons?”

“These,” Tara said as she passed out some of what looked like storage gems from her backpack. They activated them and tossed them on the ground to reveal a series of varied black tubes and smaller L-shaped sidearms along with several metal boxes and stacks of metallic rectangles. There were even some circular discs that looked close in appearance to repeating crossbow quiver drums; the cache was completed by several pairs of human boots and a folded pile of splotchy green garments in a different pattern from the Marines. “We’ve had them ever since we came here.”

“Put them back in their storage gems and hand them over,” Imlay immediately ordered, his expression turning angry. “I’ll take them now.”

“No, you will not,” Gilda told him in no uncertain terms before Chris, Tara or Marco could, stepping between them. “They say they know how to use them, and I trust them. I will not have them unarmed out here.”

Imlay looked distinctly unhappy, but backed off from her. “Ma’—er, sir, with all due respect, I am not comfortable with armed civilians around us who lack our training and could be trigger-happy. Especially not at our backs.”

“And we weren’t comfortable with the chance we’d be abandoned in hostile territory by a Kabul-style bug-out, Corporal, leaving us at the not-so-tender mercies of the locals.” A glaring Tara all but dared him to say something in response; her remark earned a wince from the normally stoic Corporal. “So let me be equally clear: regardless of the Centurion’s orders, they’re ours and you’re not taking them.”

“Yes you are!” Raleigh said more forcefully. “Disarm them now!”

“You are not in command here, Mister Raleigh!” Gilda rounded on him hard as Chief Jacobs stayed carefully silent. “I am. And my order is for them to be armed and ready for whatever awaits us.”

“I’ll file a protest!” Raleigh warned as the three civilians didn’t go for their guns first, but instead, the stack of clothing; as she watched, Chris and Marco removed their shirts and pants to replace them with thick splotchy green-patterned garments not unlike those of the Marines, possessing large pockets and thick belt loops.

“Oh, noes! A protest.” Tara rolled her eyes just after Gilda did, earning a series of double-takes from the Marines as she, too, pulled off her shorts to replace them with long green pants, briefly showing off her small white undergarment. “Whatever will we do?”

“I don’t know… send back a strongly worded letter? Or better yet, we’ll just have to start a twitter tag trending to fight back!” Chris suggested irritably as he finished donning his green garments and then pulled on a thick belt to which he attached several pouches with wider but shorter rectangles than the Marines had. “How about hashtag-Raleigh-is-a-fat-and-useless-asshole?”

“How dare you!” Raleigh’s pale cheeks went red.

“Fuck off, Raleigh. And if you’re worried about our training, Imlay, we’ve had plenty of range time with these. We’ve fought in paintball and pellet leagues. We even took a three-day tactical course from a local club, learning room-clearing and urban combat.” Chris stepped between them quickly, stopping Tara from getting in his face. 

“Three days does not teach proper tactics!” Imlay replied impatiently. “Playing at being weekend warriors does not make you the real thing! You three are in way over your heads, and I have my orders. Now hand them over!” he demanded again.

“Not just no, but hell no!” Marco replied vehemently as he laced up a pair of boots. 

Imlay stared at them. “Why are you three being so unreasonable?”

“Unreasonable?” they chorused before Chris continued, pulling on what appeared to be a form of light armor over his torso. “At being disarmed in the middle of a fucking war zone?”

“You don’t know that’s what it—”

“Oh, please,” Tara cut him off with a disgusted air as she next tugged off her top before the staring Marines, her mammaries only covered by a form-fitting black undergarment before she pulled on a thick short-sleeve splotchy green shirt identical in pattern to her pants. “We know we were shot down, we know there are dragons about, and we also heard about the dead griffons and ponies around that carriage crash, all murdered! We know something very bad is happening, so don’t even try to tell us that!”

“We’ll protect you,” the Marine Corporal promised. “It’s our duty as Marines.”

“Oh, really? And if they order you to leave us behind again, what then?” Marco challenged, causing Imlay to look away for a moment.

“This is the Gryphon Kingdom, not Kabul,” he said through tight lips.

“You’ll forgive us if we don’t find that very reassuring. Especially with idiots like Moran or Goldberg in charge,” Tara finished with a flourish as she bunched up the base of her long golden mane into a bun and tied it off with some kind of flexible band, then pinned it up and out of the way before she pulled on what looked like a pony ballcap facing backwards to hold her hair in place. 

“The griffons don’t let others fight their battles for them, and neither will we. So bottom line, Corporal—unless you’re willing to shoot us, we’re not giving these up. You can have our guns over our dead bodies,” Chris told him.

“Molon labe,” Marco added in an unknown language as he finished dressing by donning a wide brimmed hat in the same splotchy patterns as the rest of his new outfit, which she guessed was meant to camouflage them against forest backgrounds.

“Molon nothing! I’m more worried about it being our dead bodies if you try to get in a firefight!” Imlay protested as Tara crouched down to remove her sandals and pull on a pair of socks followed by heavy boots fitted for her. “You don’t know our tactics and you don’t know how to fight alongside us! Now for the last time, give your guns to me!”

“That will do!” Gilda told him as she sensed Tara about to snarl again, feeling as protective of her as she did Marco. She had no idea what they were arguing about, but whatever this ‘Afghanistan’ was they kept discussing, it had apparently ended very badly. “I’m sorry, Corporal, but your orders do not override mine. I am the commander of the escort mission, responsible for the safety of your civilians and my decision is final—they will be armed! You don’t have to like it, but you do have to abide by it.”

For the first time since she had met him, Imlay looked flustered. “Sir, please understand that they’re not trained for combat and could potentially endanger us. Or you.”

“If you have a problem with it, then take it up with your brass,” Marco told him defiantly as he hefted his weapon to move it away from Imlay; it looked almost exactly like the Marine tubes except it had a more grayish-blue hue. “Because after what happened in Afghanistan, we know not to trust them—or even you guys—to protect us now,” he proclaimed with a hard glare at Raleigh.

Imlay stared at him. “I was at that shitshow, and we were just as upset at our orders as you! So you’re gonna seriously hold that against me?”

“No. We’re just not going to allow you to disarm us after we saw what happened there. In any event, we’re not neophytes, and we’re not going to accidentally shoot you, Corporal,” Tara informed him as she stood back up and buckled on her own upper body armor, which like the others didn’t appear to be made of metal but something very heavy and solid. Now fully dressed for battle, she hefted a much thicker tube that looked similar but not identical to the one Gilda had seen Doc Cullen wield, slinging it over her back. 

“In my case, I’ve known how to use a shotgun forever—my Dad taught me to fire them when I was eight! As for this one, I got it as soon as I could legally buy it, and I’ve pulled it out more than once to deal with unruly patrons at a dive bar I once worked at. Even made one guy piss his pants.” 

She grinned unpleasantly as she then opened one of the metal boxes to begin loading it with what looked like large colored cylinders, slipping them into a hidden compartment beneath the tube before she then added them to what looked like a series of slots meant to hold them on the sling.

“I know that model—it’s a twelve-gauge Benelli M1014, right? Not bad, if a little light on ammo capacity. You any good with it?” Doc Cullen’s counterpart, Chief Jacobs, asked; he wasn’t armed with one himself, instead possessing one of the standard black Marine tubes.

Tara grinned again. “To borrow a phrase, Chief—I’m not just good with it, but I could do fucking surgery with it. I’ve gone skeet shooting with this thing and I hardly ever miss. I’ve got rifled slugs for distance shots and triple-aught buck for close-in work. I can even hit moving airborne targets without a problem. Bottom line—anything that comes close to me or my friends is dead.”

“Wow, look at that…” one of Imlay’s Marines walked over, staring at Marco’s personal cannon. “Is that a custom AR?” he pointed at the dark grey tube that looked a little different in layout from the marine cannons.





“A-R?” Gilda repeated, her mind awhirl with all the new information she was gaining on their weapons. She’d never remember it all, but it was clear they were far more complicated and involved than she’d ever have thought handheld cannons to be. Shotgun… twelve-gauge… skeet… AR…

“AR-15, also known as the Armalite model 15. Basically the civvie—I mean, civilian version of the Marine M-4 that Imlay and the Chief here are holding,” he explained, causing Gilda’s head to spin at the idea that they had civilian cannons that appeared to be on par with their military ones. 

“And yes, it’s custom! I picked out the parts and even drilled out the lower myself,” Marco added with a grin as he pulled on what looked to be his own chest armor not too dissimilar from the Marines, which was already loaded with what she now knew to be their rectangular cannon quivers in the pouches. “And better yet, my little Armalite’s equipped with night sights, so I can shoot in the dark. Same with this 5th-gen Glock-17.” 

He presented another L-shape weapon of a slightly different shape from the Marine ones, which appeared to have additional attachments on it both above and below the tube. “If you’re interested, here’s what I’m loaded with.” 

To Gilda’s surprise, he clicked a button and slid something out of the grip. He then tossed it to the Marine; for the first time she got a glimpse inside it and saw what looked like small gold-hued metal cylinders with a slightly mashed head of copper color.

Then… those smaller cannons have internal quivers TOO! She felt faint for a moment as she kept having to up her estimates of the potential power of human weaponry.

“Hollow points? Nice,” the Marine said as he somehow extracted a single cylinder and inspected it closely before putting it back in. “That’s actually better than our FMJ ammo for anti-personnel effects—if you can get around armor, that is.”

“Yep. And no problem—got some good-quality armor-piercers, too,” Marco grinned, patting one of his smaller pockets, which appeared to be loaded with at least two spare quivers marked with green strips. “Same for my five-five-six rounds. Trust me, I’m loaded for bear.”

“Hey, girl, you got a 1911!” Henderson noticed next, pointing at a larger L-shaped item with a big barrel and some stylized swirls on the metal—her fire team had been the reserve force and been kept nearby instead of on the perimeter. “That’s a fine piece of military history. I approve.”

“Thanks. It was my Granddad’s,” Tara said wistfully as she pulled on a thick belt and holstered it at her right side. “I had it refurbished with some surface work and new pistol grips, but the rest is original. It saw action at Iwo Jima and Okinawa in World War Two.”

“Holy fuck, dude, that’s a Mosin-Nagant!” Another of Henderson’s marines pointed down at a tube that had not metal but wood wrapped around it. “The classic Russian rifle! Where’d you get it?”

“From an online auction,” a grinning Chris said as he pulled out a smaller pistol and holstered it at his left hip. “It’s not even close to the oldest or most collectable version out there, but it’s certified as an M1891/30 original. Wood was a bit rough, but I refurbished it and mounted a modern scope, and it fires just fine. And yeah, I got plenty of ammo—I bought a slew of 7.62x54r stripper clips for it. Surplus Soviet-era ammo from the old Eastern Bloc before you ask.”

“Dude, that stuff’s caustic,” the fourth Marine of Henderson’s fire team noted. “It’ll eat the barrel away.”

“Oh, I know, but it’s also very reliable. It works great, but when I use it, I gotta immediately clean the barrel with ammonia afterwards, so the Nagant isn't my first choice. This is.” He slung a larger grey-hued tube.

“A Ruger Hawkeye!” Henderson recognized appreciatively. “Excellent distance weapon. I have a friend who uses one for hunting. What’s it chambered in?”

“Six-point-five Creedmoor,” Chris answered slightly nonsensically, causing Gilda’s head to spin at all the jargon she was being fed; she couldn’t help but exchange a confused glance with a nearby and equally befuddled Nydia. “Mostly because it was the only ammo available at the time I bought it.”

“Yeah, we heard about all the civvie ammo shortages during the pandemic. You a good shot with it? And the Nagant?” the female Marine asked next.

Chris grinned broadly. “I’ve practiced on both enough. I can shatter a dish with each at five hundred yards,” he boasted, causing Gilda’s eyes to go wide—she knew what a ‘yard’ was from her time in Equestria, and if it was anything like the pony measure of distance… 

Then they can FAR outrange our weapons! she realized with a sinking heart. 

“He can,” Tara confirmed as Gilda had to sit down on her haunches heavily. “He’s an excellent shot. I’m lucky to score a hit with it at half that.”

Henderson grinned. “Not bad for a civvie, but if you want to qualify as a sniper in the Corps, we’ll need to get you up to at least eight hundred yards and preferably a thousand. When we get some time, I’ll train you, Mister McLain,” she promised. “Or maybe I just want the chance to fire your Nagant myself! So what’s your sidearm?”

“Ruger American Compact,” Chris replied as he drew it from its holster, leaving Gilda completely lost. “Nine-mil. It was my daily carry back home—between that and my Hawkeye rifle, I’m a bit of a Ruger fiend,” he admitted as he slammed a small quiver home into the base with a surprisingly slick and satisfying metallic click, following that up with a ratcheting motion Gilda was starting to understand was the means to load the cannonballs. Or was that what they were, given the strange cylindrical shape they had? 

“Haven’t seen that one before. What’s the capacity?” Henderson followed up as he replaced it on his hip.

“Twelve rounds standard, or seventeen with an extended mag. And yeah, I practiced with it weekly thanks to the overabundance of bums and junkies around the college I taught at. Trust me, I know how to use it.” He directed the last remark at Imlay, who looked decidedly angry and unhappy at the eagerness of his comrades. “Hey, Tara? Take my Mosin-Nagant. Your shotgun’s good for up close, but given how we should be leaving the woods later, I think we need more distance weapons. You may not be as good as me with it, but you’re good enough.”

“I was gonna use my rifled slugs, but fine. I’ll load with triple-aught instead—that should take down anything short of a charging rhino,” she said with a shrug, then frowned. “Or on second thought, Chris? Give me the Hawkeye instead.”

“You sure?” Chris asked in surprise. “It’s a bit heavier.”

“Yeah, but those stripper clips you use to load that old Russian rifle give me fits. You can do it quickly, but I can’t. At least with your Hawkeye, I can just slap a new mag in.”

“You got it, girl.” He passed his longer tube and metal rectangles to her as he started filling his pouches with a series of what looked like sharp pointed darts sitting atop shiny gold-hued cylinders, their backs somehow attached to a thin metal piece. She wasn’t sure what they were for until Chris yanked something back to open the top of the weapon, positioned them over the opening and pushed down hard, causing all five cylinders to neatly slide inside, leaving only the thin metal rail behind.

“Slick, buddy. That’s probably the most powerful gun here, but five rounds at a time ain’t gonna last you very long. You’re gonna have to reload it rapidly in a fight,” One of Henderson’s Marines pointed out. 

“Don’t worry; I’ve practiced,” Chris promised. “I’ve used this in speed shooting competitions. I can reload it in three seconds if I have to.”

“Actually, when we timed you, you averaged three-point-eight seconds to reload,” Marco said with a smirk. “Still, that’s a lot better than me or Tara could do with it. I know you like to kill from distance. But me? I like it up close and personal,” Marco said with a toothy grin as he hefted and slung his “A-R”, then affixed the blade that Fortrakt had given him to his vest. “Oh, and you can take your combat knife back, Corporal. I’ve got a better one.”

“All right, enough!” the Marine Corporal raised his voice for one of the few times as he snatched the blade back from Marco. “This is a combat march, not a fucking gun show! So stop gawking and get your team into position, Henderson! We’re oscar-mike in five, and you’re bringing up the rear with two of the Centurion’s soldiers! And as for you three…” 

He turned his glare on Chris, Tara and Marco next. “You’re right; I can’t make you give those up, but you better understand this: You are responsible for every shot you take, and I will be very displeased if we come under friendly fire,” he warned them. “So be sure you know exactly what you’re shooting at, or you answer not to Raleigh, but all of us.”

“Noted,” an unrepentant but fully redressed Tara said as she made a ratcheting motion on her large ‘pistol’ once before holstering it, suddenly looking far more a warrior than she ever had before. “Now if you’re through threatening us, Corporal, can we please get moving? It’s now evening, and even armed, I really don’t like the idea of being caught out in these woods at night…”





To Gilda’s mild frustration, it took around eight minutes before everycreature was set and they could start marching. 

Upon seeing additional movement behind them, Gilda approved Imlay’s suggestion of changing the formation slightly, using his entire squad to cover the rear while the shield-equipped earth griffons watched over the flanks. The Ravens took point and scouted carefully while Fortrakt flew top cover very low over the formation, with orders to stay in sight and not fly above the treeline. 

Though she didn’t think it was right for her not to be at the front, Gilda marched in the center of the formation with Chris, Tara and Marco along with Decanus Nydia and Chief Jacobs, accompanied by a single earth griffon eagless reluctantly carrying Raleigh on her back.

“With all due respect, Centurion, is there any reason he can’t walk?” The young Spear asked her in annoyed Aeric under her breath; her shield removed and in the possession of Gilda so Raleigh could sit on her. “He keeps grabbing my shoulders.”

“Please don’t touch her wings or shoulders, Mister Raleigh,” Gilda instructed him in Equish, to smirks from the civilians. “That’s a sensitive area for us. If you need to hold onto something, use her pauldron straps,” she instructed, and he did so, if a bit grudgingly. 

“You know, I got attacked for that,” Marco muttered as they stopped and waited for the Ravens to signal them to move forward again. They did so by ‘breaking squelch’ twice on the static-filled radios, which could be heard far easier than trying to speak over them given the magical interference they were still experiencing.

She gave him a look. “Yeah, well, I was tired, hurting from that crow-begotten dress uniform I’d been wearing all day and in a very bad mood when you did it. Now please be quiet, all of you,” she requested in a low tone. “I need to listen for any signals.” 

They stayed silent after that, moving forward at a far slower rate than she wished, as the Ravens carefully checked each twist in the path and potential chokepoint they encountered for signs of an imminent ambush. But none were apparent; the only movement they could discern remained behind them, though it was becoming clear at least a dozen shapes were following them, staying carefully unseen in the brush.

Definitely not grass lions, then. It’s something with intelligence and a pack mentality, Gilda silently knew. They’re trailing us but not attacking us—in fact, they’re not even making a move to surround us! But why…?

She heard a single squelch again, which was the signal to stop—they’d gone barely forty paces forward this time. Their agonizingly slow advance was not helping her nerves, and something was still bothering her about the whole situation. She kept having the nagging feeling she was overlooking something important, even dangerous to them. But she couldn’t put her wing on it except her mind kept going back to the reports she’d received regarding the overturned carriage. 

Bodies around it… fresh food supplies inside it… she turned it over in her head as they finally moved off the forest path and onto a cart-capable dirt road. The outlying Caleponian farms used them to deliver their goods; to her mild relief, the trees and brush opened up around it to give them more visibility. 

But why leave the food behind? Does our unknown enemy not eat? Or maybe they’re only carnivores and don’t care for fruit or bread? She patted the orange she’d stowed in one of her pouches, planning to either eat it herself or give it to Marco later. 

Caleponian-grown citrus and produce in general weren’t as good as their Equestrian counterparts, but she still occasionally enjoyed peeling and eating a nice sweet orange at breakfast. In fact; one of the dishes they’d been promised by Chris before Moran had expelled them was orange-glazed pork with onions, hot pepper slivers and scallions; Marco even said the orange rind was somehow used in the recipe.

Though she couldn’t fathom how that could be good, now was not the time to consider it. She shook her head as the tingle of danger she kept sensing only grew stronger the more she thought about the cart; she couldn’t explain why, but something felt terribly wrong about it. 

She still didn’t have an answer as the Ravens sounded an all-clear with two squelches thirty seconds later. Everyone began moving forward again without a word; a glance behind her showed Imlay’s squad with their weapons leveled at the treeline, using two of his ‘fire teams’ to always cover the withdrawal of the third. For as talkative as they’d been before, they were now all business; she could smell their sweat and see their intentful movements as they continued to cover the rear.

Fortrakt was still above them leading two decades of sky griffons in a standard arrowhead patrol pattern, with a single three-griffon Fuga on each flank and one in front and higher; it was designed to maximize firing lines to the flanks and fore without catching other griffons in a crossfire. She’d given him command of the airborne element with strict instructions to pay particular attention to the flanks; it was his responsibility to defend them along with the earth griffons below while the Ravens protected the front and the humans brought up the rear.

They finally reached the dirt road and Gilda felt a wave of relief when she noted the area was more open with less chances for ambush; the forest was much thinner here and the grass was far too short to offer concealment to larger animals. The road itself was unremarkable, save for the occasional pile of sand to fill in the odd rut or low spot. Thus, they moved quicker; reaching the carriage only ten minutes later after two more stops and cresting a small hill. 

It was as it had been described; a typical Caleponian produce cart lying on its side with a series of mutilated pony and griffon corpses around it; the ugly smell of voided bowels hung heavy in the air as she saw Chris, Tara and Marco look away at the scene.

Whatever had happened, the carriage had crashed in the middle of a depression, crushing a few tall grasses underneath. Gilda could easily visualize that it had been making a desperate dash for safety defended by the Auxilias before hitting a road rut and flipping, leaving them with no means of escape as their pursuers closed in. The ponies had clearly perished close to the coach while the Guardsgriffons had fallen trying to defend it and the Caleponians inside it; she could only hope they’d given a good account of themselves before dying.

“Hesusmaryosep!” Marco muttered upon beholding the scene, making an odd crossing motion over his chest she’d seen from him only once before. “I’ve seen plenty of dead animals. Even butchered a few myself. But this ain’t the same…” he said as Tara could only cover her face with a hand at the carnage and stifle a sob; Chris pulled her close and hugged her.

“What have we got, Centurion?” an emotionless Imlay came up, ignoring the civilians while leaving his squad still facing the rear in a loose semicircle.

“Four dead Guardsgriffons and three dead ponies. All killed brutally,” she recited quietly as she studied the scene, trying not to show that she, too, was affected by it. She’d hunted before, certainly, but killing an unintelligent animal was not the same as seeing sapient races slain. And definitely not ponies, who had rarely known such barbarity since the time of the great Pony/Gryphon War.

“Make that four dead ponies,” Fortrakt said from above over the radio. “Looks like there’s one in the depression under the propped-up part of the cart, for eight total. At least the Auxilias went down fighting,” he recognized, making Gilda note the loaded crossbows they were still clutching and the half-full quivers strapped to their backs.

“Loaded?” Gilda’s brow furrowed as the tingle of danger got steadily stronger. Wait a second…

“But… we didn’t see four before!” Spear Lyncis Alauda said loudly enough from overhead for Gilda to hear him without the radio; he had given the original report on the crashed carriage to her. “By my Ancestors, I swear there were only two griffons and three ponies when we found the carriage!”

“Then you were mistaken,” Giraldi said calmly over the human communication device, completely unperturbed by the gruesome sight. “Perhaps you were simply unnerved enough to not notice them all.”

“No sir, he’s right,” his Fuga leader, Gladio Cattus Avem, called into Fortrakt’s radio. “We only saw those two nearest Guardsgriffons. There also wasn’t a pony corpse under the carriage.”

“They must have arrived after,” the Raven leader offered next. “As they’re all quite dead now, my guess is, they went to the carriage for the same reason we did—seeking supplies—and got slain in turn. And that means…” he trailed off ominously as he leveled his crossbow at the woodline while his two flanking Ravens swiftly drew their scimitars.

In the back of her mind, Gilda sensed the jaws of a trap snapping shut on them. “And that means, the cart full of food was a lure! It’s a setup for a fucking ambush!” Imlay instantly recognized, leveling his cannon. “Find cover and stay sharp!”

Weapons that had been only briefly lowered were instantly raised again as all of Fortrakt’s forces pointed their crossbows outwards as well. Nydia grabbed her staff and took off into a hover, the end of her stave glowing; Chris, Tara and Marco also grabbed their metal tubes but aimed them in the air towards the flanks, away from the Marines but between her grounded earth griffons and Fortrakt’s hovering group.

For the next minute, they all held their collective breath with weapons at the ready as they awaited the promised attack, but nothing happened. “Do you see any movement, Decurion?” Gilda asked softly into her radio as she scanned the woodline but saw nothing.

“Not a thing…” he whispered back in tense tones, just audible over the radio crackle, which Gilda swore was loud enough at that moment that everycreature within five leagues of them would hear. “Maybe we’re just too large a force to hit?”

“Nothing here, either…” Imlay said softly as his Marines swept the still brush and branches with their violet lights, but once again, no magical shrouds were revealed and nothing could be heard in the woods; not even a single bird or cricket. “He might be right, but I wouldn’t linger. Let’s just load up and get the fuck out of here. And I suggest you check the cart for booby traps.”

“Booby traps?” Gilda repeated the odd phrase.

“Make sure they didn’t leave some nasty surprise on the cart or the food,” Imlay clarified. “Like an explosive.”

“He’s right, Centurion,” Giraldi advised. “Ibexian irregulars were known to do such things with magic and crude machines alike. I once lost several soldiers to a series of explosive crystals that were rigged to detonate when we entered a cave we thought they were hiding in, bringing the roof down on our heads. So I recommend having Decanus Nydia magically scan the area.”

She did so, but came up empty, shaking her head. “No enchantments, curses, or magical traps detected,” she reported. “And to the extent I can detect poison or disease, there’s also none.”

“That still leaves physical traps,” Imlay reminded them. “Use extreme caution. Watch where you step, and look for things like taut strings, odd piles of stuff or recently dug-out dirt. They’re prime candidates for hiding lovely and quite lethal surprises.”

He sounded like he was speaking from experience to Gilda as Giraldi nodded and ordered two of his earth griffons to only approach at a hover to keep them from contact with the ground. He even asked Nydia to levitate the cart up and shake it hard a few times, which she did with some visible strain, but nothing happened except for it spilling several bushels of varied fruits and vegetables. 

“It’s clear,” he said. “No traps, and it looks like it can be repaired quickly using the spare wheel on the rear of the cart. I suggest we fix it and put the produce back in so we can carry it with us. A single earth griffon can pull it.”

“Then move it to the side of the road and set it upright,” Gilda instructed Nydia, her heart going a league a minute in her chest as she kept expecting an ambush or explosion at any moment. “We’ll repair it there. If there are unseen ground traps, that should get the cart away from them.” 

It seemed like a sensible precaution, but every instinct she had was now screaming an attack was imminent and they were somehow looking in entirely the wrong direction. But why? HOW? she asked herself as she began to walk towards the cart and her eyes suddenly settled on the loaded crossbows the dead Auxilias were still clutching.

“By your command.” With considerable effort, Nydia moved the cart to the side of the road away from the center of the scene, presumably away from any ground traps that had been set around it as Giraldi detailed four of his five remaining earth griffons to put the spare wheel on and collect the fallen fruit, further cautioning them to remain in a hover as they did so.

As they holstered their crossbows, it was only then Gilda finally locked on to what was wrong with the scene. 

Hadn’t Spear Alauda reported the crossbows the dead soldiers held as fired?

She no sooner had the thought than the corpses moved, their talons tightening on the grips of their loaded bows as everything went to the crows in an instant. 

Despite their gruesome wounds and occasionally missing limbs, they leapt up and launched their bolts without a single word spoken, killing two earth griffons instantly with arrows through their unprotected heart or neck.

“What?” She didn’t know who shouted that, but it didn’t matter as the threat was revealed to not be in front or behind them, but within their defensive formation as a gurgling shriek came from another low-ranked earth griffon eagless member of her old Turma! Gilda turned to see that one of the dead ponies had impossibly stood up with a blade in its bloodied mouth and slashed open her throat. Taken by surprise, she was utterly defenseless, and her death cry seemed to serve as a signal.

The trees and shrubs around them suddenly came alive as a large mixed pack of grass lions, hornet bears, and other forest creatures crested the hill behind them or emerged from the foliage at a run. They charged the rear of her force in a full sprint while groups of griffons and even flying boars in various states of injury and decay rose into the sky around them, attacking from every direction in the air with tusks, blades and bows alike. Worse, she saw green Paladin armor on several of the griffons and recognized the two members of her Turma she’d cut free from the coach harnesses and dropped. 

The former took aim at the Marines as they began to run down the ramp of the hill, gaining speed and momentum with each step. Their jaws were open and teeth presented, sharp overgrowing canines of the grass lions and the stingers of the hornet bears gleaming dangerously in the sun.

Gilda stared in horror as she watched them come closer and realized that there was no time to mount a defense and no way to break such a charge without a much larger force. There was also no way to retreat and no place they could go; they could not fly away without abandoning the humans, or worse, calling great gouts of dragonfire down upon them. 

Time stood frozen as she watched the beasts and corrupted griffons get closer, all her greatest nightmares coming to life at once. Her mind in shock, she realized they were outnumbered at least three to one from the varied attack group with compromised ponies, griffons, and corrupted creatures alike, and the course of the battle, from its start to its likely conclusion, crystalized quickly in her head. 

Fortrakt’s aerial group would fall first, overwhelmed in the air by superior numbers and Paladin armor. 

The humans would shortly follow despite their cannons; first their Marines would be overrun regardless of how many volleys of metal balls they could fire as they were swiftly trampled and slain with sheer weight of numbers. 

Then Gilda herself along with her human mate and friends would be cut down and killed, or if they were lucky, Nydia might buy enough time for one or two of her surviving soldiers or the Ravens to fly them to safety. But it would only be temporary as they, too, would be hunted down without mercy and slaughtered; their bodies used as vessels for whatever magical abomination their enemy was.

Her life beginning to flash before her eyes, she thought back to her youth and her time with Rainbow Dash in Equestria, to her return home and subsequent struggles to both grow up and ascend the ranks of the Kingdom's military; and finally, to her month with Chris, Tara and Marco. She could seemingly recall every moment of their time together as they met, ate exotic meals, watched movies, and even shared a night together they couldn’t remember even if they would never forget it.

And in one final moment of irony, she found herself with a sudden and strong flash of memory from that night—of being erotically attended by both Tara and Marco as they watched a movie full of flying metal machines and fiery explosions that left her more turned on than she could ever remember; amenable to anything and everything they wished.

It was a wingslap in the face to only remember it just as she was about to perish, but in it, she found a steely resolve. She decided that there were far worse and less honorable things in life than to die in defense of her nation, friends and lovers; in the end, all her thoughts flashed through her mind in just a few quick seconds before she recovered her courage and nerve. 

“It’s a trap! By all our Ancestors, resist!” she said as Nydia took flight into a hover, her staff wielded while Gilda went to don her steel claws and barked what she was sure would be her final order. “Fight with all your might!”

By the time the grass lions and hornet bears broke past the Marine cordon and reached them, she’d be wearing them, and she hoped to take out at least one before she died. 

“You heard the lady! It’s a trap! Light ‘em up!” Imlay shouted as instead of turning and running, Gilda watched the Marines hunch over their weapons more tightly, holding their rears hard against their shoulders. It was a second later when she realized why.

Fiery flashes and earsplitting cracks of thunder filled the air; the noise deafening as the cannons the humans wielded erupted with spouts of intense flame out the end of their tubes. An acrid smell of dirt and a pungent aroma of something she couldn’t identify quickly filled the air as a dozen grass lions and hornet bears fell in the space of mere seconds, riddled with bloodless holes she could see punched in their hides coming from miniature cannonballs she couldn’t; they moved so fast and hit so hard they splintered trees and caused great gouts of dirt to erupt wherever they struck. 

And that was to say nothing of what they did to simple flesh; the big blocky weapon that Lance Corporal Brennan wielded spat out fire so fast that it all but cut a grass lion in two, causing it to slump down. She barely had time to register all that—the power and rate of fire of their personal cannons were incredible!—as a loud boom and series of even louder and closer cracks! returned her attention back to the civilians while beside her, Raleigh just curled himself into a ball and cried. 

The noise shocking her back to her senses, Gilda looked around, finding Giraldi wielding his war hammer against the reanimated corpses while the two female Ravens struck them down with blinding scimitar speed and skill, covered by Umbreon’s crossbow. The latter buzzed hard as it fired a steady stream of explosive bolts that went off like a string of Minotaurian firecrackers, cutting down two more corrupted Caleponians charging at a full gallop before they could reach his comrades. 

Initially uncertain where to go or what to do, Gilda tensed as for the second time that day, she felt a tingle of building magic around her. “Centurion!” Nydia shouted as she whirled her staff once; her warning trill was followed by a sharp crash of lightning that splashed hard against a full-strength Magus shield she had just erected overhead. 

The bolt failed to penetrate; the magical barrier Nydia conjured saved their lives. But as an enemy mage could not be ignored lest they rain down lightning on the unprotected parts of the formation, the Decanus immediately shot off to fight whatever griffon it was; the air overhead was shortly filled with clashing spellcasting as she kept the opposing Magus at bay.

With the front and rear covered, and the magical threat countered, that left the overhead battle and flanks to tend. “Chris! Tara! Marco! Concentrate on the flanking forces! You too, Chief and Spear!” she ordered her mixed force as she notched an arrow in her crossbow. She also tossed the shield she’d been holding back to the eagless who had been carrying Raleigh and ordered her to protect him, noting that Marco’s rounds came a little slower than the Marine ones but also seemed to hit harder, blowing larger holes in whatever they hit when they struck home. 

“You got it, girlfriend!” the wide-eyed but resolute human eagless replied as Gilda looked on at a battle that was now completely out of her control. Several corrupted civilian griffons charging in from the sides fell in turn to Marco and Tara’s combined cannonfire, the impact of the latter’s large weapon alone seemed enough to knock unarmored airborne griffons out of the sky when they got close. 

Chris, by contrast, concentrated his wood-wrapped tube’s fire on the bigger or better protected targets; he took careful aim and killed a grass lion coming in from the side with a round through the head that all but caused it to explode, then fired on a green-armored Paladin following, penetrating his excellent armor and even blowing out a chunk of his chest.

But somehow, it didn’t stop the tiercel as he continued to charge forward on all fours, oblivious to his injury as Chief Jacobs opened up on him in turn.

“How is he still coming? That was in his heart!” Chris exclaimed in disbelief as he somehow cycled his weapon for another shot, yanking hard on a bolt that ejected an empty gold-hued cylinder and caused in turn what she guessed to be another cannonball to load. 

“I don’t know, but hit him again!” Jacobs ordered, his tone harried as the big griffon got closer.

It was at that moment it finally crystallized in Gilda’s head what they were facing. It’s the ONLY possible explanation! And if so…  “Go for their heads!” she instructed them all, remembering the long ago Gauntlet lessons that she never in a million years thought she would ever have to use. “It’s the only sure way to put them down!”

“Their heads… got it!” The Paladin never made it as Tara answered and obeyed the instruction first, dropping the green-armored soldier with a blast from her ‘rifle’ that blew away most of his face and sent what was left of him skidding to a stop in front of them. Meanwhile, Marco’s Marine-like weapon opened up on another charging Paladin who was attacking on the ground because he had a visibly broken wing. Such a wound would have been agony for a sky griffon, but he completely ignored it, his unblinking pale yellow eyes locked on his prey.

Marco himself!

Gilda cringed as this time, her mate’s cannonballs were deflected with a series of violet-hued sparks off the thick and heavily enchanted Paladin armor, so he swore violently and released the rectangle on his “A-R’s” underbelly, still cursing as he groped at his vest for another one. 

“They’re too close! Switch to pistols!” Jacobs shouted as he and Tara let go of their tubes, which fell on their straps but remained in easy reach as they yanked their smaller, hip-strapped weapons. Tara got hers out first, leveled and fired it; five thunderous BOOMS! followed that did penetrate the Paladin’s armor at close range, causing the eagless inside to fall at their feet. 

By that time, Marco had slapped a fresh rectangle in place that was marked with a green strip and yanked the weapon’s charging handle back hard, fumbling the motion once but succeeding on the second try. He then opened up again on two more attacking Paladins, one of which was hobbling forward on three usable legs.

This time, his cannonballs penetrated easily, though the lead Paladin didn’t fall until he’d taken at least a dozen of them through the chest and neck. The other, slower-moving one had his head blown out by Chris’s ‘Nagant’ while, her other weapons exhausted, Tara smoothly pulled up her ‘shotgun’ from where it had been slung on her back as their enemies got uncomfortably close, dropping one and then another with two powerful blasts that all but disintegrated their heads.

”Attackers to the left!” Chief Jacobs shouted a warning as he hurriedly reloaded his main weapon. Gilda whirled to see what looked like three Talon regulars charging her, one of which was an eagless who bore the armor of a Centurion like her. 

But this time, starting to feel like ‘useless baggage’ herself as the humans proved more than able to deal with the attackers without help, she leveled her crossbow, took aim at her counterpart and fired a single armor-piercing bolt that speared through her helmet and caused her to slump forward. 

The young eagless then flinched backwards from a far more familiar concussive wave of sound that she knew indicated an impacting war hammer. When her vision cleared, she saw the final Talon being knocked away by Giraldi’s brutal blow, crushing its midsection and leaving its spine broken in two; he followed that up with an overhead strike that pulped the former soldier’s head.

That was the last of them. With the attacking ground forces annihilated, the human soldiers and civilians then turned their attention to the overhead battle between Fortrakt’s sky griffons and their half-wounded griffon assailants, as well as the still-ongoing mage-vs-mage duel.

From what she could see, Nydia was holding her own against the enemy Magus, but Fortrakt had lost at least four soldiers by then. Despite that, they had given a good account of themselves to judge by the reduced numbers of attacking griffons around them; she admired Fortrakt’s tactics as his forces remained in constant motion and loose formations, using their uninjured wings to outmaneuver their enemies and slowly whittle them down with three-on-one, hit-and-fly attacks that generally succeeded in felling a single foe at a time.

But there were still a score of enemy flyers engaging a decade and a half of her Auxilias, and she couldn’t afford to lose any more of them. The human weapons pointed upwards but fell silent at a shouted order from Imlay, who said directly he was fearful of hitting the wrong griffon given the rapidly twisting and turning aerial duels above them, unable to distinguish friend from foe. 

Which means that they can’t win an airborne battle! Only WE can! “Shadow Decurion!”  she shouted over to Ebon Umbreon, whose Raven team was mopping up resistance to the fore; there were at least twenty dead griffon, pony and animal bodies around them. “We’ll cover the front! If you’re finished down here, assist!” she pointed up, and at his nod and a shouted order, they launched themselves into the air immediately. 

As she watched them leave, Gilda decided she could no longer be a bystander. “Crows take it… stay here and hold your fire!” she ordered Chris, Tara and Marco in no uncertain terms as she spread her wings and shot skyward as well. She swooped in and shot one formerly civilian griffon looking the other way, firing into her shoulder to cripple her flight before slashing her suddenly stationary form with steel claws, shredding her wingbase and sending her plummeting.

But she only got the one as the Ravens made dangerously short work of the rest with steel and strafing runs from their repeaters, wielding them with precision aim to take down ten more flyers before the quiver drums were empty. As she watched, they didn’t bother with reloading them, instead holstering them as they switched to scimitars and plunged into the remaining enemy formations. 

They led their attack not with sword but with thrown blades off their belts, embedding them with uncanny accuracy into wings and throats to stagger the remaining corrupted griffons, leaving them easy prey to scimitar strikes, which they aimed at their necks and heads.

What followed was a series of split skulls and even outright decapitations as within eight seconds, all remaining enemy flyers were down. They then turned their attention on the one remaining foe—the Magus, surrounding him and firing something into his shield bubble she couldn’t see. Whatever it was, the shield flickered and failed, and the Magus then fell swiftly to a simple scimitar strike, falling lifelessly to the ground as one of the Raven eaglesses went to a visibly crying Nydia and appeared to comfort her, leading her back to ground.

With the final contest decided, the sudden but violent battle was over. From beginning to end, it might have taken less than a minute, but it felt more like an hour to Gilda as her forces gathered themselves, looking around for additional targets but finding none.

“By the Ancestors…” she was just able to hear a shocked, shaking and heavily breathing Fortrakt say as he gazed from a hover at the human-caused carnage on the ground to the rear of the carriage; he’d taken a slash from steel claws near his hindquarters but was otherwise unharmed except for his increasingly violent trembling as the adrenaline rush of combat wore off. 

She didn’t blame him for that; she was shaking as well and could still barely believe her eyes. She counted at least eighteen downed grass lions along with a score of massive stinger-and-antenna equipped hornet bears supported by dozens of both grounded and airborne griffons, and yet, they had barely made it halfway to them even at full charge. The other creatures fared even worse; the flying boars were speared right out of the air; she saw one riddled with a line of cannonballs that had nearly cut a wing clean off.

Even with a working shieldwall wielded by earth griffon Paladins or Fortis Knights, the best thing the Kingdom military could do facing such a force would be delivering death by inches. But the personal cannons of the human Marines and civilians had utterly annihilated them!

“Holy fucking shit!” one of the Marines shouted, smiling as he lowered his smoking tube. “Did we just light up a bunch of sabertooth tigers and bug bears?”

Imlay was frowning. “Stow that shit, Stavrou! This fight ain’t over! Some of the bastards are still moving.”

“Fucking hell, they aren’t dead yet?” Brennan asked, swapping out his large block quiver for a new one from his pack. As Gilda watched, he reached inside of it to pull what looked like a linked line of not balls but sharply tipped cylinders free, feeding it into his open weapon before slamming the top down with a sharp click. “What does it take to kill them?”

Gilda blinked and watched as two grass lions and a hornet bear resumed their advance, limping forward on just two or three legs as their mangled ones dangled uselessly, still coming at them despite their gruesome wounds. Three more followed afterwards, though all they could do was crawl.

“Corporal! Hit them in the head!” she shouted and pointed, struggling to be heard over the sharp cracks of cannon fire.

Imlay looked at her. “What?”

“Hit them in the head!” she yelled as loud as she could.

Imlay nodded. “You heard the lady, Marines! Target their heads and blow their fucking brains out!”

“You got it!” the Marines chorused and pointed their weapons towards the approaching grass lions again. More cracks of thunder roared around them, though unlike earlier, they came as single shots similar to Marco’s weapon.

“Boom! Headshot!” A Marine PFC exclaimed as a lion head all but exploded; the cannonball entering his eyes and bursting out the back.

“Holy shit, did you see that? I splattered its brains all over the place!” another Marine announced.

There were more single bursts and a few instances of laughter. “Fucking A, this is fun!”

“Anderson! Stop wasting your fucking ammo or you’re stuck on police call! Just kill the goddamned things!” Imlay’s order left Gilda wondering if there was anything they could actually do for the human soldiers except guard their rear; it was abundantly clear that their powerful personal cannons meant they did not need so much as a single crossbow bolt fired in support.

Finally, the last grass lion went down, but that still wasn’t enough for Imlay. “Okay, advance! And give each of them a coup de grâce!” he further ordered, to which the Marines crept up and fired their weapons at point-blank range into the various heads.

“Let’s see you bastards get up from that!” one of the Marines stated as the last twitching beast was killed.

Another shiver ran down Gilda’s spine as she yet again felt magic stirring in the air. Before she could shout a warning, a fresh ball of lightning formed right above the Marines, sending a series of destructive bolts down on their heads.

Behind them, a previously morose Decanus Nydia jumped to the air and intercepted it with her staff, attracting all the bolts to her. With a shout of effort, she moved her staff in an arc, returning the lightning towards a slight haze in the sky. A sickly green shield emerged as she redirected the bolts upwards, further illuminated by the Marine ‘blacklights’ that revealed it fully. “There he is!” She tried a lightning bolt of her own, which splattered against the other griffon’s shield.

“Enemy Mage!” Gilda shouted in alarm, realizing the Marines likely had no defense against magical bolts.

It landed on the ground on all fours; a former eagless who had scabs, red blots and bald spots all over her coat. She held her broken staff in her beak, spreading her unkempt wings as she stared at the Marines blankly; the intact end of the rod glowing with what little remained of her magic.

“Fuck that mage’s day,” was all Imlay said as he and his Marines raised their cannons again.

More deafening bursts of thunder spread out in the air as the Marines and civilians focused their fire on the corrupted corpse of a Magus. But even their powerful cannons couldn’t seem to break through the green-glowing barrier, which sparkled as it absorbed the human projectiles.

“Shield!” one of the Marines shouted before a group of them were bowled backwards by a magical wave.

Imlay nodded and grabbed something from a pouch in his vest. “Nice trick, lady. So you can take  all our bullets, huh? Then how about sucking down a forty-millimeter grenade?” It looked like a thick cylinder with a yellow curved tip, and Imlay inserted it into the larger bottom tube of his cannon, pulling the attached trigger.

Gilda couldn’t follow what happened next. All she heard was a heavy thumping sound, like a hiccup in the air, and the next thing that registered was a bright flash of light that accompanied a deafening explosion that had her recoiling backwards and left her ears ringing again. Dust flew everywhere, making her cover her eyes, as additional bursts of thunder echoed for a few more seconds before they finally stopped.

“Mage down!” she could just make out over the ringing of her ears.

“Holy fuck, did you see that griffie’s face when it ate that forty-mil?” she heard one of the Marines ask.

“I don’t think it registered at all,” Lance Corporal Henderson replied. “Look at her—she looks and smells like a rotting corpse! They all do!”

“Because they’re fucking zombies!” Brennan exclaimed, less in fear than… excitement? “They’re right out of Resident Evil!”

“By the crows, what are you all looking at?” Fortrakt finally rousted himself out of his renewed shock and stupor at the slain Magus as he pulled his crossbow and notched an arrow. “Some of them are still moving! By all our Ancestors, stop gawking and finish them off!” he shouted at his remaining soldiers as he aimed an arrow into the head of the nearest dead Paladin and fired, embedding it in her eye.

Startled at first, her remaining Guardsgriffons obeyed, and within a minute, every single corpse had an arrow in their head or had otherwise been stabbed in the brain with a blade. The battle now truly over, Giraldi flew to her side; his eyes went wide as platters as he stared at the destruction that a mere seventeen cannon-equipped humans had wreaked on what should have been an unstoppable assault force.

“Ancestor’s Past,” Giraldi invoked as the Marines celebrated their victory, at least until Imlay snapped at them and ordered them back into a defensive formation.

Gilda could only stare numbly at the scene. “I know.”

“In mere moments, they not only defeated but destroyed an enormous attacking group of grass lions, hornet bears, Paladin soldiers and even a shielded griffon mage?” Ebon Umbreon shook his head as he joined them. “By all our Ancestors, what are these humans?”

Gilda shook her head in turn. “Right now, they’re the only reason we’re still alive. Just be glad they’re on our side. Because our infantry weapons can’t even begin to match that level of lethality.” She looked out at all the dead griffons, bears, and grass lions again. “We’re going to need them—especially now. We’ve all heard the legends… but I never dreamt I’d live to witness it.” She bowed her head, all her fears rushing back in that instant. “There’s only one thing this could be.”

Giraldi nodded grimly. “Aye. Corpses coming back to life… animals not acting like animals… griffons turning on griffons…” his voice trailed off as he closed his eyes tightly. “We face not a simple foe, but a monstrous race born of blackest magic. A mortal enemy of all life who promises not enslavement, but annihilation. We face The Cloven of the Sun.”

“So after more than a millennium, the greatest enemy of the Gryphon race returns,” Ebon Umbreon muttered as he sheathed his bloodied scimitar, unable to suppress a shudder. “We seek safety, but from them, there may well be none.”

Ancestors preserve us, Gilda thought, closing her eyes tightly for a moment as Marco, Chris and Tara huddled close behind them, clutching each other. As she watched, Marco staggered over to a tree and leaned hard against it, shaking violently while Tara sat down heavily and clutched her head. She cried softly to herself as Chris had the worst reaction of all of them; he only managed a few stumbling steps before he suddenly fell hard to the ground, pitched forward and violently threw up. 

By all the crows of the Kingdom, what do we do now…?