//------------------------------// // 25: Battle of Bale - Part 1 (T-rated) // Story: Feathered Hearts - Continuation and Chronicles // by Firesight //------------------------------// The next few hours passed in a daze for Gilda, starting with reviving the rescued griffons. Chief Jacobs had been able to wake them by feeding them some ‘oxygen’ from a strange metal canister, which she knew was a pony term for the element of air that all creatures needed to breathe. It had not gone entirely smoothly as one of the cubs had shrieked upon waking up and seeing the monsters it assumed humans were; the noise had then rousted his slowly stirring mother who had taken a weak swipe and snarl at the alien creature who had her son. Fortunately, Giraldi was there to explain the situation; his ability to care for and calm the cubs as a longtime sire helped as well. Gilda could only look on as he introduced the humans, saying they were both honorable friends and powerful allies—that it was they who had found the shelter and risked their lives along with Gilda to enter it, even when they couldn’t be sure they wouldn’t be trapped within it as well. The two revived eaglesses bared their throats in Gilda’s direction while still clutching their crying and hungry cubs close. One was a larger earth griffon she guessed was not much younger than Giraldi with snow leopard hindquarters that gave way to the light-hued head and mottled feathers of a mountain hawk eagle, while the other was a sky griffon with very dark cougar hindquarters and raven-feathered forequarters. Gilda couldn’t help but note she was almost as black as Ebon Umbreon was without his gray fur dye, peering at the humans suspiciously through golden eyes that almost matched the color of her own. Giraldi then asked Marco and Guerrerro to step forward in Equish before switching back to Aeric. “Vira Amator and Calidum Mater, these two humans risked their lives to save you. This is Marco Lakan and Private First Class James Guerrero,” he presented them as the two females could only stare at the bipedal creatures warily, though they did bare their throats at them somewhat grudgingly. He translated the greetings of the two humans in turn, with Guerrero saying he was just doing his duty and Marco somewhat dweebily swearing that they meant them no harm. Gilda then asked the pair if there was anything they needed; the answer was food and water, plus privacy to nurse their cubs. She granted it, giving them the steadholt master’s personal quarters, though she did allow Chris and Tara to bring them the nourishment they requested as long as Giraldi was with them. “Any problems?” she asked him after they got back while she ate the orange she’d been saving; she noted they’d taken more time than it should have for a simple delivery. “After I introduced Tara Fields, they asked where her cubs were,” Giraldi reported in some amusement as Tara blushed and Marco laughed. “They thought her having big boobs meant she was nursing,” Chris added with a smirk and a nudge of Tara’s side with his elbow, eliciting a smile from Gilda as well. “Some explanation was needed after that.” That was the last she saw of them for a while. Once her mixed force got settled in the steadholt with their defenses set and both Marines and griffons assigned to their posts, they set watch and rest schedules, with Gilda sleeping first at Giraldi and Fortrakt’s insistence. The latter also volunteered to command the first four-hour watch himself, though he still seemed moody and distant to Gilda, not even smiling when the story of Tara’s introduction to the two mothers was related to him. Considering all he’s been through, I can hardly blame him, she decided as she attempted to bed down on the stage of the dimly lit main hall, from where the steadholt master would hold court and conduct trade. She was offered the master’s private office by Giraldi, which had a cushioned lounge, but she declined and gave the accommodation to Raleigh, not wanting to be alone. Ancestors, we’ve all been through Tartarus itself today, and tomorrow might be even worse, she knew as she settled in beside Chris, Tara and Marco, who snuggled up to her with a slightly longing look from Fortrakt and a nod of approval from Giraldi. The Marines, however, just smirked a bit and said nothing, though she caught PFC Guerrero glancing at her repeatedly as he bedded down on the other side of the stage. Bet he’s wondering why I took so long to tell him to stop groping me, she worried, and she didn’t have a good answer for him. Or at least, not one she was willing to share as she laid down on her right side against the comfortable carpet—she guessed the steadholt master had gotten it from Saddle Arabia, given its Mareabian design and finery. Marco draped an arm over her from behind while Gilda spooned Tara in turn, resting her left set of talons on the tough green fabric that covered her belly. She also allowed Chris to use her left flank as a pillow; a glance down her body showed he had clasped Tara’s free left hand with his right. Though Gilda was gratified to see that they fell asleep in her presence relatively quickly—the second swig of Marco’s whiskey that all three had taken probably helped—and finding their company no less welcome for whatever urges she’d had regarding Guerrero, she didn’t right away. Her thoughts still unsettled and anxieties reasserting themselves, she squeezed Marco’s hand on her chest with one set of talons while licking Tara’s still-sweaty head, unable to reach Chris except for curling her tasseled tail over his form. Ancestors preserve them… she prayed again for their safety and that she would be able to protect them. That she would prove worthy of her post; worthy of all the honor and affection they had shown her. At least an attack didn’t seem imminent. So far, the Cloven had not reappeared, and the nocturnal animals remained active, though she was certain it was just a matter of time before that changed. She couldn’t imagine that they would allow her group to march to Aricia unmolested, and feared they were already using what they learned from the first encounter to make plans for a second strike. Will they hit us here? Or when we try to march again? She didn’t know, as each presented its own advantages and disadvantages to the attacker; the difficulties of either option compounded greatly by human firearms. But as there was nothing more she could do, she allowed the whiskey to take hold of her and let her drift off to sleep. Gilda awoke to find that a blanket had been thrown over her form, and a human hand on her upper foreleg was shaking her awake. “Centurion? It’s time to change the watch,” Imlay told her softly. “No Cloven activity thus far. Nothing from the Ravens, either.” “Right…” she groaned, blinking blearily while finding herself very disinclined to move. “Give me a minute.” “Take your time. We brewed some coffee if that will help,” he told her. “It’s not great, but it’ll wake you up.” “Thanks,” she said weakly, taking a moment to gather herself. Chris, Tara and Marco seemed to be where she’d left them lying against her, and she wasn’t immediately certain how to disentangle herself from them without waking them up. It turned out it was too late as Tara stirred. “Corporal…?” she called out sleepily. “Is it morning?” “No. But the Centurion’s next to stand watch. Go back to sleep, Miss Fields,” he told her before walking away. “Aww…” Tara said. “Please don’t go, Gilda…” “I have to,” she said as she licked Tara once on the head and squeezed her with her talons; it was only then she noticed that her foretalons had drifted up onto the human female’s chest and was now pressed firmly into the soft and yielding flesh there. A twitch of her tail beneath the blanket told her it was squeezed between Chris’s thighs, held fast against his hidden attributes by his human hand, while Marco’s left foretalons had settled happily onto her wingbase, pressed firmly beneath her large upper pinions. Her breath caught and suddenly Gilda was wide awake as she realized how compromising her position was. Did they see us? Is that why they threw a blanket over us? She wasn’t sure she wanted to know, wondering when it had happened. “Can’t I convince you to stay…?” Tara asked again, reaching up to hold her talons in place as Chris and Marco began to stir in turn. “If you’re worried about privacy, there’s a lot we can do under the covers…” she offered in a sound not far removed from a coo as she started audibly releasing her shirt fasteners to expose her human mammaries beneath the blanket. Gilda’s breath caught again as she realized what Tara was doing; the human female then increased the enticement by reaching back with her other hand to push it and Chris’s paw, which she still held, against Gilda’s equivalent eagless anatomy on her lower belly. “I…” Gilda felt the wing she’d laid over Marco starting to go stiff as her tail began to twitch repeatedly between Chris’s legs. The movement threatened to fully rouse both human males as well; her entire body now pleading for their attention as she became keenly aware of their presence and scent. But once again, no matter how badly she wanted to surrender herself to them, she overrode her surging desires and forced her sense of duty to reassert itself. “I want to, Tara. More than anything. But I can’t right now. The Cloven are still out there. And I can’t protect you from them here.” “I know. That’s part of the reason we love you,” she said with a final squeeze of Gilda’s talons to her chest before she let them go, leaving the young and sorely aroused eagless aware of what she was touching anew. “Please don’t die before we get the chance to finish this, girlfriend.” “I swear by my Ancestors, I’ll kill every last Cloven before that happens,” she promised as she nibbled briefly at Tara’s ear, regretting that she couldn’t easily do the same for Chris and Marco. Taking a deep breath, she slowly stood up, letting the blanket hang over her as she stepped away before pulling it off her back with her beak and then whisking it over the three. When they were covered again, she gave Marco and Chris a lick as well; they both pawed the now-empty carpet for her missing form after she departed. She gave them one last lingering look before she went off with Imlay, accepting a bowl of very bitter and bad-tasting coffee. But she didn’t cream or sweeten it, deciding not softening it would help her refocus quickly. “Any contact with Arnau?” she asked him and the Marine ‘radioman’ who had set up his communication device again, only to receive a shake of the head. “Nothing,” the PFC confirmed. “There’s still too much interference. We might have just got lucky that one time when we killed the mages in the area during the first attack. Maybe that’s what cleared up enough of the magical crap in the air to allow us to transmit.” “Maybe,” she said, glancing down to see that Chris’s portal device was plugged into a port of the larger Marine one, bearing an odd icon on its screen. * * * * * Five minutes later, Gilda had finished the coffee and walked upstairs to the Main Hall’s Roost. It was a balcony where the Peacekeepers typically kept watch over the steadholt and its surroundings from, searching for anything from storms to fires to trouble in the streets. When she arrived, she found Fortrakt still there. He was staring off into the distance of the moonless and starless night; Luna’s sky shrouded by all the smoke in the air and only lit by the glow of distant fires. Probably more burning fields, she thought, wondering how long it would take the Kingdom to recover from the invasion even after the Cloven were beaten. Probably going to have to lean heavily on Equestria to keep us fed for a while… She found the idea galling but admitted the ponies were the best and most reliable source of food on all Tellus there was. Fortrakt greeted her with a nod. She had brought him a bowl of cool water along with some bread and fruit from the cart. They were eating that first instead of the steadholt supplies since the former had no preservation spells on them, and Nydia was still recovering from having to pry open the shelter spell, at the cost of her all-important stave and most of her magical strength. “Centurion,” he greeted her somewhat shortly. “Beg to report: no Cloven activity. All quiet and the animals are still active. Human and griffon patrols are reporting in every half-hour. All present and accounted for. And no word from the Ravens.” “Noted,” she said, even though she’d already received that information downstairs from Imlay. “You’ve done well this day, Decurion. So eat up and head downstairs. Try and get some sleep,” she directed, then set the bowl, fruit and bread in front of him. “Feel free to keep Chris, Tara and Marco company.” Though she thought he would jump at the suggestion, he barely reacted, picking up the bowl to drink from it. “I appreciate the offer,” was all he would say after he took several beakfuls and gulped them down, tearing off a piece of the bread in turn. “But I think I might prefer to be alone tonight.” She stared at him, suddenly wondering if he was sick. “Weren’t you the one telling me to take chances when they were offered?” “Weren’t you the one telling me to not act wantonly like the Kingdom was crumbling?” he responded instantly and in the exact same tone. Gilda sighed, remembering saying that to him earlier. But now, she didn’t feel the same conviction over it. Just embarrassment for sounding so certain and arrogant in light of all that had happened, or nearly had. “It’s not that I don’t want to, Centurion. I just don’t think it’s a good idea right now.” “How unusually mature of you,” she mildly teased him to cover her own thoughts. “And that’s why I didn’t.” “Right.” There was a pause, then Fortrakt turned to study her as he picked up the orange she’d brought him and began to peel it. “How about you? Is there anything bothering you, Centurion? And I hope you didn’t mind me throwing a blanket over you four. I only did it because I thought matters might turn… personal.” She could just see him beginning to blush. “Well, they didn’t,” she said, even though it wasn’t exactly the truth, to which Fortrakt smiled at least slightly. “Though it still bothers me that I’m even tempted.” Fortrakt said nothing for a few moments; his eyes scanning the area along with hers. Everything seemed in order, and the nocturnal creatures remained raucous. But she couldn’t decide whether she should be grateful or annoyed that nothing was happening, given that a lack of activity would shortly leave her alone with her anything-but-settled thoughts. “So why, by all our Ancestors, does it bother you?” he finally asked her as he popped a section of orange in his beak and licked the juice off his talons. “Wanting to be with them, I mean?” This time, it was her turn to blush as she looked away. “Because I shouldn’t be having all these urges, cub—especially not now! And it doesn’t feel like I can just blame the cider for them,” she confided. “It’s unprofessional and unbecoming of a commander. If I can’t treat situations and the civilians under my care dispassionately, then maybe Tribune Narada shouldn’t have made me a Centurion.” Fortrakt glanced at her for a moment before shaking his head. “Stop putting yourself down, Gilda. You’re doing fine.” “Fine?” she spat out. “Don’t give me that, Fortrakt. My first day leading griffons resulted in twenty deaths. Twenty, and twelve of them were from our old Turma! Young griffon soldiers who were just starting out their careers.” She looked away. “I failed them.” “Young or not, we are griffon soldiers, Gilda,” Fortrakt countered as he paused eating his fruit. “They swore the same oath of service as us. They did their duties and are now at rest. May the Ancestors bless them and speed them on their journeys to Valhalla.” “Griffon soldiers who didn’t even get a chance to fight. They died doing their duties because I’m not good at doing mine,” she muttered. Fortrakt stared at her with his green eyes, glinted orange by the distant fires. “They died because we stepped into not one, but two traps that nogriffon, not even the most experienced of Consuls or most vaunted of Tribunes, could have predicted,” he declared, his tone surprisingly hard. “You took every possible precaution regarding that cart. We had no idea that we were facing the Cloven or that the corpses could attack us. By the Ancestors, Gilda, I don’t think there’s a single Centurion in all the Kingdom who could have detected that trap!” “You’re just saying that,” Gilda replied. “I should have known it was a lure! And what about the battle itself? I could barely give even a single order. I fired exactly one bolt in the ground battle while Chris, Tara and Marco gunned down everything that came near! And then afterwards I cared less about learning about their guns than rutting them?” she said in disgust. “And if that wasn’t bad enough, it happened again in the cellar! You weren’t here, but I went down there with Marco and Guerrero, where we found the survivors with a dead mage—they both volunteered to go even though they knew they could get trapped down there with me, Ancestors bless their brave but stupid souls—and I had to shoot the dead Magus in the head. “After Marco left to get help for the cubs and their mothers, I felt awful and Guerrero put his hand on my shoulder. He groped me even worse than Marco did that first night, and yet… I didn’t want to rip it off! By all the Ancestors, it felt so good I wanted him to keep doing it—I even let him! And th-hen he pulled me against him and crows know I was ready to…” her voice broke and her beak quivered as she recalled every lurid thought that had started running through her head. She wasn’t sure why she told Fortrakt the story, except she needed to get it off her wings. But instead of acting aghast, he just stared at her anew, and then gave a knowing nod. “So, they saved your life—saved all of us—by fighting alongside us using a series of incredibly powerful weapons any griffon would love to wield, and then you wonder why you were suddenly ready to offer yourself up to them?” he summarized with a faint smile. “They were brave, they were honorable, and they fought to defend not just you, but all of us. Crows know we wouldn’t even be alive without them! By all the Ancestors, Gilda, I’d think there was something more wrong with you if you didn’t want them after that!” He held up a wing to forestall her protest. “And as for Guerrero, crows know I’m surprised, but from what you said, he offered up his life to go with you and Marco, risking himself alongside you both? Ancestors, he honored you just like Marco did. And then he gave you comfort when you needed it, even if he didn’t know what he was doing?” he recited the facts back to her, causing her to blink, hard. “Maybe you were vulnerable, but that doesn’t change the fact that he was there for you. That he proved himself worthy of you just by being there.” Gilda was starting to fidget as she found his words ringing true and, despite all her mental efforts, her untoward urges suddenly seemed far more acceptable and eager to be indulged. Still, she couldn’t let them go without a fight. “It’s not wrong to want three alien partners at once? And then an alien soldier?” she muttered; the more time that had passed since it happened, the more appalling she found it. “My mate and his two friends? And then I turn around a couple hours later and suddenly want Guerrero? By all the crows, what is wrong with me?” she clutched her head feathers in her talons, wanting to rip them out in frustration. “Nothing,” he said with not a shred of hesitation or doubt as he sat beside her. “And I still think you should have taken the chance to be with them.” Her head shot up. “And I still think you’re crazy for thinking any of that was somehow okay!” She couldn’t help but wonder if he had some odd fetish for public exposure or exhibitionism. Well, it would certainly explain why he got so turned on in the hallway that one time, right? Despite everything, the memory of teasing him brought a smile to her face; she even found herself wishing again that Rainbow Dash had been there to join her in the effort. “I can’t help what I think.” He shrugged. “But what do I know? I’m just a stupid cub, remember?” “No, you’re not.” She relented slightly, realizing she was turning on him just for trying to help her talk through things. “Crows know you’ve more than proven today you’re not a bad combat officer, either.” “And crows know you’ve more than proven you’re not a bad combat commander. If you don’t believe me, then let me tell you the story of my sire,” he said, and his tone, which turned a shade of brooding she’d never heard from him before, convinced her to listen. “Did you know that he was also in the Auxiliary Guard?” Gilda looked back at him in surprise. Fortrakt rarely said much about his family or upbringing, and judging by the way he was looking away, he wasn’t comfortable speaking about it now, either. “No.” “Well, he was, around fifteen years ago. He didn’t join by choice, but by necessity. We had a bad stretch where we were facing frigid winters year after year,” he began. “The growing seasons were stunted and our local farms were failing, forcing us to import more and more food from Equestria and elsewhere. Father wanted to hire a few Caleponians away from the Southern lands to try to make the most of our shortened growing seasons, but we didn’t have enough gems to do it. So he joined the Guard for extra money,” he recounted. “I was only six when it happened. But one day, not long after he got his second pauldron, he and another newly minted Spear were assigned to escort an eagless senator and her son, who had just been promoted to Talon Centurion—all due to the influence of his mother, of course. So naturally, he began ordering the whole lot of Guardsgriffons and Talons around.” Gilda broke into a small smile; she had encountered a few such officers who had their positions not due to merit but nepotism along the way. “Naturally.” Fortrakt chuckled only briefly before his expression dropped again. “So, yeah, he was a bit overbearing, and from what father said, he seemed to be mostly trying to impress his mother with his new authority. But he also said most of the soldiers didn’t mind, given the escort job was only until the next town, at which point they’d get good food and quarters along with the Senator they were defending. They were more worried about the blizzard that hit early in the season.” “A blizzard? So your father was still in the North?” Gilda guessed. Fortrakt nodded. “His second Rotation brought him back to the North, though not back home. Anyway, they trudged through the whitened skies; snow and wind blinding them enough that they had to land a few times just to get their bearings. And on the fifth or so landing? Harpies attacked,” he announced, gaining her immediate attention. “My father’s grounded column was raked by cannon fire from one of their corsairs while boulders and arrows rained down on them from above. In just seconds, four Guardsgriffons were killed and six were wounded.” “I see…” Gilda held her breath as Fortrakt had to gather himself before continuing. The Harpies had a score or more of large raiding clans in the rugged Skydavian mountains that were almost impossible to root out; efforts to do so usually ended up finding only abandoned camps as they could simply pull up their tents and flee through the air, using their fast and elusive corsair airships to evade pursuit and quickly establish colonies elsewhere. Other times, griffon efforts against them had resulted in bloody ambushes with heavy casualties to the attacking force as their normally unaffiliated families united against the invaders. Their determination to survive and live as nothing more than a loose confederation of pirate clans had earned them at least a grudging respect from the Kingdom, which had unofficially ceded a large area to them. The end result was griffons kept no formal contact with the Harpies, but parleys and the occasional battle had established at least an uneasy peace where both sides understood the other could be pushed too far. That there were lines not to be crossed, not the least of which were attacks against civilians, which would earn an immediate reprisal. It was an awkward arrangement, accepting the occasional raid against shipping or supply ports, but in fairness, the Kingdom had some reason to tolerate their activities given the Harpies also targeted the Ibexian Ascendency. “So what happened?” Gilda finally asked. “Exactly what you’d expect—at least from the Optio. She reacted immediately and did her best to form a defense quickly, trying to protect the senator,” Fortrakt recounted. “The Optio? What about the—” she began to ask, only to stop as a pensive Fortrakt held up a wing. “When she turned to ask for orders from the Centurion, he was unresponsive at first. They thought—or at least hoped—he was forming a plan. But as more arrows and cannonballs impacted, the Centurion began to scream about how they were about to die, and ordered everyone to flee for their lives before taking off through the air. He abandoned his post, and even his own mother.” Gilda was shocked. Even for the entitled son of a Senator, that sounded like an uncommonly cowardly reaction for a griffon. “Was your father… taken?” she asked cautiously, to which Fortrakt shook his head. “No. They drove off the attack, no thanks to that craven Centurion who had no business being in his post. But the damage was done. Father was wounded that day and was never the same after.” Fortrakt looked towards the horizon; for a moment, Gilda thought he was tearing up. “He took both a boulder to the wing and a poisoned dart to the wing muscles; between them, the healers were never quite able to fix it. He couldn’t fly straight, and he couldn’t hold formation afterwards.” Fortrakt blinked his eyes repeatedly, taking several breaths before he could continue. “As he was no longer fit for service but honorably wounded in the line of duty, he was discharged from the Guard and given two years’ pay as compensation for his injuries, which I guess was enough to hire some Caleponians to help us out. But after all that, and the awful price my father paid just to keep our farms afloat and our village fed, my mother left.” His voice suddenly trembled and he looked away. “She said she was sick of the cold. That she felt shamed by having a mate who couldn’t fly and having to rely on ponies to feed us. That there was nothing honorable about our family anymore, abandoning me and taking my younger sisters with her. By all my Ancestors, I hated her for that…” His tail lashed, then stilled. Gilda didn’t know what to say. And I thought MY upbringing was hard just for being taken to Equestria and having a single friend dump me? She suddenly felt a deep sense of shame, but stayed silent, letting Fortrakt vent. “For the longest time, I just stayed and helped out my sire. I did whatever was needed and learned as much of the family business as I could. It wasn’t easy, but eventually the hard winters relented and we more or less recovered. By that time, I was of age, and he told me it was time to stop supporting him—that I needed to stretch my wings and find my own way in life. So I chose to join the Guard. I wanted to redeem his honor and finish the term of service he couldn’t,” he concluded as Gilda could only listen in disbelief. His story finished, he exhaled heavily, then turned to face her again. “So, yeah. You’re still here and trying your crow-damned best to lead us. And given everything that’s been thrown at us, I think you’re doing quite well.” “So in other words, your way of cheering me up is to compare me to a crow-cursed coward?” Gilda paraphrased, the words spilling out of her mouth before she could stop them. “Thanks, Fortrakt. I feel better already.” “Oh, go suck an Ibex spear.” He gave her an exasperated look. “With all due respect, Centurion, you berated me for having a defeatist attitude earlier. So please don’t fall into one yourself over your first-ever command,” he reminded her softly, causing her to fall silent despite the insult. “What I’m saying is you’re not giving yourself anywhere near enough credit for everything you’ve done right, from saving those civilians to just getting us this far safely. You’re learning on the job, as am I. But if you keep doubting yourself, you're going to lose it like that ‘crow-cursed coward’ and burden the rest of us. Most notably Marco, Chris and Tara.” This time, it was her turn to feel chagrined. “You’re right. Thanks for the wingslap, Fortrakt. So tell me, when did you decide to grow up and become so sensible?” “When we got attacked by the Cloven, and then found ourselves in a war for our race’s existence,” he replied instantly and without emotion. “And believe me, you’re not the only one with doubts about his abilities.” She looked at him again. “I’d never have known it from how well you led your force in battle.” He smiled and bared his throat at her. “Thanks, Centurion. May we live to be comfortable in our roles. And get to order other griffons about in far more mundane or pleasurable matters than these.” “May the Ancestors grant such a thing,” she agreed with a chuckle, then studied him again. “Are you sure you’re okay, cub? Ever since the battle, you seem… different. And it’s not because of this story you just told me.” He didn’t reply right away. “Maybe I am,” he said quietly at some length. “It’s a little hard not to be different after what I remembered.” “What do you mean, ‘what you remembered?” she asked him in confusion. He had to gather himself again before speaking. “When I saw the Cloven attack start and realized how badly we were outnumbered, I thought we were all dead. In that moment, my life flashed before my eyes,” he told her, then raised those same haunted eyes to hers. “And in that one moment, I remembered… everything.” “So did I,” she said softly. “My cubhood, my training, the month we spent with the humans—” “That’s not what I meant,” he said shortly. “I mean, in that instant I thought I was going to die, I remembered everything about that night,” he told her pensively. “The memories are like something out of a dream, but they’re present now. I know what occurred. I know what we did. And by all our Ancestors, even if we survive this war, nothing will ever be the same for me.” He buried his head in his talons. “You remember?” She stared at him in shock. “Why? What happened that night?” She was desperate to know even as she felt afraid of learning. He chose his next words carefully. “Everything you could imagine… and some things you couldn’t even begin to,” he said cryptically, then shook his head in disbelief. “And here I was, thinking I’d been left out…” Despite her almost-frantic need to know more, she reminded herself to be wary. “Are you sure you didn’t just imagine it? That your mind wasn’t just clawing for some meaning from that night and filled in the blanks to provide it?” she had to ask. He locked gazes with her again, his green eyes glinting anew in the distant glow of dragon-set fires. “You told me and Tara all about your ‘Dashie’ that night, Gilda,” he informed her quietly, causing her to gape at him. “You grew up friends with Rainbow Dash herself, though I don’t think Tara understood that’s who you meant. And for what it’s worth… I’m sorry she dumped you like that. It sounded awful to go through. If she was here, I’d tell her off for you.” Despite his words of comfort, Gilda felt faint. I get why I would have told Tara. But why would I have told HIM? Unless… “Please don’t tell anycreature else I knew her…” she asked weakly, trying hard not to follow her logic chain to its inevitable conclusion. “Don’t worry. Because given how you cried on Tara’s shoulder, I know how painful it is for you just to think about her. I’m just glad I could—” he caught himself and snapped his beak shut. “Could what?” She gave him an askance look. “Do you really want to know?” he asked her, and something in his voice warned her she would not like the answer. “Because if I tell you, everything changes for you, too.” She stared at him. “No,” she finally said, to which he only nodded. “A wise choice,” he agreed quietly. “And believe me, for as much as I now remember, I wish I didn’t. It’s a distraction that crows know I definitely don’t need. It’s hard enough being around the humans and Giraldi right now, since just seeing or even smelling them is sparking flashbacks. By the crows themselves, I think I might even remember the two of us being carried back to our room by the Ibex.” “Giraldi?” She blinked again, suddenly flashing back to the impossibly lurid image she’d had of him earlier enjoying the company of human and griffon tiercels alike. “But why would he—?” She trailed off at the pleading look he gave her and fell silent. “I won’t tell you. And by all the Ancestors, I have no idea how I’m going to tell them…” he muttered. Sensing the topic was a difficult one, she moved on. “Well, for what it’s worth, I did get one more flash of memory from that night when the Cloven attacked. I think I was with Tara and Marco while we watched another movie… with metal birds and ships?” she recalled tentatively, watching his reaction carefully. For the first time since they started talking, he smiled broadly, confirming her vision with a nod. “The movie was called Midway, about a massive naval battle during humanity’s Second World War. I loved it, and so did you—you even wrote a report to the Tribune on it in the middle of rutting! And you also really enjoyed the movie Marco showed us before that,” he told her with a wry grin and wink, his voice even acquiring a teasing tone for a moment that caused her to blush. “Not that I blame you. I want to watch those movies again just so I can remember them without being under the influence and seeing everything through a pink haze. And you know, maybe that’s part of why you ended up so smitten with Marco after initially hating him. He seems to have a knack for turning on and teasing both you and—” He caught himself again, then slumped, burying his face in his talons. “Ancestors, why did I have to remember all this now?” Though she desperately wanted answers on who else Marco had teased, she looked away, a fierce blush erupting. She wasn’t sure what it was more over; the confirmation that she’d been with the two humans at once, or her sheer and utter dweebiness in trying to pen an intelligence report to Tribune Narada while in the middle of sex. “For what it’s worth, I think I know how you feel. Because the more I learn about that night, the less I’m sure I want to know.” “Just trust me—you don’t. To suddenly remember it now but be the only one who does is a burden like you wouldn’t believe, Gilda. Ancestors above, I can’t get it out of my head! Even when I was holding Chris and Tara after the battle, I was remembering… well, holding them and it was all I could do not to get excited. Even though I knew it wasn’t the time!” He sighed and slumped. “It wasn’t too bad when I had the distractions of battle or trying to get us here safely. But now that there’s no immediate threat and I’ve had some time to myself, I can’t stop thinking about it. Can’t stop thinking about them. And that’s the reason I don’t want to be with them. I don’t trust myself around them right now, so I think it’s best for me to keep my distance.” She stared at him again. “I don’t understand, cub. You encourage me to be with them but turn down your own chance to do so? Why don't you ‘trust yourself’?” “I…” He looked flustered. “It’s hard to explain. And I’m not even sure you’d believe me. Ancestors, I’m not even sure I do,” he offered, which only confused her even more. “It’s just that… I’m afraid if we were together, it wouldn’t be by choice, but because of…” To Gilda’s exasperation, he again couldn’t finish his thought. Seeing her confusion, he hung his head. “I’m sorry, Centurion. I know I’m not making sense. But if you believe nothing else, believe that I’m not ready to be around them right now. So I respectfully request that you keep me busy commanding our aerial element for the time being.” He bared his throat at her. She nodded after a short pause. “You’ve done a good job with that, Decurion. So no problem,” she promised, wondering what he didn’t trust—that he wouldn’t get excited or that he wouldn’t outright try to rut them again. But why would that be an issue? He’s been encouraging me to do it, and I just offered him the opportunity but he wouldn’t take it! So I don’t get it—what is he afraid of? She didn’t know, but she sensed she also wouldn’t get the answers from him until he was ready. “Thanks for telling me this, cub. I’m on watch now, so get some sleep.” “By your command,” he told her, putting the orange peel in the empty bowl before picking the latter up in his beak and heading for the stairwell. “And thank you for letting me talk about all this, Centurion. I really needed to,” he said around his mouthful. “You’re welcome. But Fortrakt…?” “Yes?” He put the bowl down again so he could speak. Her beak closed and opened repeatedly before she finally found the words. I don’t want to know, and yet… “I don’t need any details. But answer me one thing: You know about Rainbow, but I can’t imagine I would have told you about that unless we were… close,” she concluded with a cringe. “So please tell me… did we do anything together that night?” From the way he hesitated and suddenly wouldn’t meet her eyes, she knew instantly what the answer was. “We did? But why? How?” she asked him, feeling faint even as her body seemed to confirm her suspicion, her wings starting to splay and blood beginning to surge into her more sensual areas as it yet again recalled something she couldn’t. “You said it yourself—we don’t like each other like that! I don’t care how much cider I had, there’s no way in either the human or griffon underworlds I would have let you mount me!” she protested to herself as much as him, desperately trying to stop her wings from going erect. “You didn’t. And that’s all I’ll say,” he said softly after a brief pause, his eyes flitting to her nervously before hurriedly averting themselves. She opened her beak again, only to stop at an upraised wing. “And before you tell me you don’t understand, just trust me—you’re not ready for the answer, Gilda. So by all our Ancestors, please don’t order me to give it.” Though she’d been about to issue the order anyway—by all her Ancestors, did she really want to risk dying during the next day not knowing?—she felt a strangely compelling mental pressure not to. She sensed she could override it if she really wanted, but she also found she didn’t feel strongly enough about it to do so, and something about his posture was warning her to stop pressing him. So she relented. “Fine, cub. I won’t. I don’t know what you’re hiding, and I’m not even sure I want to. All I ask is that if you tell one of us… then you tell all of us,” she instructed. “It’s not an order, but I think you owe it to us.” “I think I do too. But believe me, they’re not ready either,” he barely whispered as he picked up the bowl again and began to head downstairs. “And at this point, I don’t know if they’ll ever be.” Before Gilda could reply, a blue flare fired in the distance and there was a sudden rumbling sound as the ground beneath the steadholt plaza gave way. Gilda stood frozen for a moment as the cobblestone street collapsed into itself and a flood of shapes poured out; before she could register what was happening, the loud and familiar cracks of human rifles echoed through the air. “By the Ancestors…” Fortrakt exclaimed as he hurriedly came up beside her again to see what caused the commotion, pulling his crossbow and notching an arrow. “Crows take it… retake command of the aerial element, Decurion! Focus fire on that hole with one decade while the other keeps watch! This could be a diversion!” she sensed instinctively. “By your command!” He obeyed instantly and shot off into the air, his earlier brooding forgotten along with Gilda’s. But the attack was defeated swiftly as a score of corrupted creatures were cut down by human firepower. That’s it? Way too easy… she decided, pulling her radio and calling into it. “Corporal? Report!” she ordered Imlay. “They came out of a hole near the entrance to the Hall. Mostly forest beasts with a few griffons and some of those diamond dogs you told us about. Guess they thought it would surprise us or we couldn’t see in the dark. They were wrong,” he said stiffly. “We got them all.” “That can’t be all…” she muttered, mostly to herself. “Stay alert! We’ve got a blue flare along the roadway, so more Cloven are inbound! This was probably a probe or diversion! Pick up your watch on the perimeter! And be careful of more holes popping up around the plaza!” “Yes, sir,” Imlay replied. She wasn’t particularly worried about the Cloven opening up a hole directly under the Main Hall, since it was heavily enchanted against that to prevent the Diamond Dogs from raiding its storage areas. “Gilda? We’re up! What can we do?” she heard Marco’s slightly anxious voice call into the radio. “You, Chris and Tara stay inside with Chief Jacobs and Spear Jumentum. Defend Raleigh, the cubs and their mothers! Do not come out unless you’re told to, and if anycreature comes inside without a proper passcode, shoot them!” “Got it,” he replied. “Go on out, Imlay! We got your back.” “You’d better,” the Marine Corporal replied tersely as she heard him dispatch a fire team to the balcony to further cover the hole in the ground. “We’re here, ma’am! Time to get some!” Guerrero announced the team’s presence before Lance Corporal Henderson could, readying his rifle as he and his three comrades knelt by the low stone rail which was mostly meant to keep pony foals from falling, aiming their cannons downward. Get some… what? She wasn’t sure what that phrase meant as she pulled the rod to notch her crossbow. She loaded one of her sunstone-tipped incendiary bolts, hoping it would prove effective against pure and corrupted Cloven alike. She got her chance to find out quickly as a second wave of Cloven erupted out of the hole; this one composed not of corrupted but of what she guessed were pure Cloven soldier forms. Even in the low light, her night vision enabled her to tell that they were exactly as they’d been described at the Gauntlet; grotesque imitations of griffons covered in a black-green shell with spikes where their wings should have been, bearing unnaturally long beaks and talons. She first thought the Cloven were without eyes, until she saw the glint of two small black orbs sunken deep in their heads, only barely visible against their darker exterior. But she only had a second to note it before they were once again cut down rapidly by a thunderous barrage of human bullets. They were aided by a mixture of incendiary and explosive bolts from Griffon crossbows, which both blew their limbs apart and consumed their bodies in fire. They seemed to be aiming their efforts at the Marines in front of the main hall, but they couldn’t close to melee range where their superior strength and tail spikes could tell. One made it within ten paces, but between being peppered by dozens of Marine rounds and the three armor-piercing crossbow bolts struck through its neck, it could get no further. Dark green gore poured out of the holes in it freely as it took a drunken step forward before collapsing to the ground, bleeding out an ugly ichor. “Hold your fire!” Imlay ordered at Giraldi’s request before her earth griffon Optio approached it, rearing up to finish it off with a thunderous smash of his warhammer. “That seems to be all of them,” she hoped as a clearly tired Nydia stumbled outside next, now bearing a new staff; it took Gilda a moment to realize it had belonged to the dead Magus in the cellar. She then looked at Fortrakt, who was again carrying out his orders efficiently; as she watched, he instructed his Guardsgriffons to stab the first wave of corrupted who had fallen in the head. Within seconds, it was done; they’d taken out another forty Cloven with no loss to themselves. “Clear,” the Optio announced as he stepped back, still standing upright while wielding his warhammer with his wings flared for bipedal balance. “Damn, he’s big…” she heard one of the male Marines mutter. “Yeah, and he’s tall, too!” another rejoined, eliciting a snicker and a slight blush of the Optio’s cheeks. “Cut the chatter. Clear here as well,” Imlay said as Giraldi went back to all fours. And that blue flare means there’s more inbound! Stavrou! Set up our fifty to cover the hole and the gate!” he further ordered as a shimmer of air announced the return of the Ravens, whose shrouded forms were quickly revealed by the cannon-mounted Marine blacklights. “Wilco,” he replied obediently, pulling several gems out of his pack as the Ravens bared their throats and held their talons away from their body. “Mantis!” Giraldi issued the challenge phrase while leveling his heavy crossbow. “Monocle,” Ebon Umbreon instantly replied, causing weapons to be lowered. “Beg to report, Centurion.” He turned up to her with a salute, pulling out his radio so all would hear him. She returned the gesture swiftly. “Proceed.” “There are over two and a half centuries of Cloven ground soldiers coming along the road to the steadholt. They are a mixture of soldier forms, including some we have never seen before. Huge ones that were just flattening everything in their path and even taking down trees.” “Great,” Gilda muttered, exchanging a look with Guerrero, who had crouched down to her left. “How long until they get here?” Before the Shadow Decurion could answer, a buzzing sound made itself known. A dozen black Cloven flyers in roughly the form of giant razorbats alighted on buildings near the gate, inducing a few Marines and Guardsgriffons to point their weapons towards them as they hung upside-down from the eaves. However, they didn’t act aggressively, just staring at the griffons and humans fixedly for a few seconds before taking to the air once more, flying away. “Curious,” Henderson stated as she set up a longer tube—was that one of those ‘marksman’ rifles Marco and Chris had talked about before? “Try creepy as fuck,” Guerrero replied from beside her, his green-glowing goggles on along with the rest of the Marines. “I’m starting to feel like we’re in a horror movie now. At least Brennan should be happy.” “Can it, Guerrero. So why did this lead group not wait to attack in concert with the main force?” Imlay wondered aloud over the radio. “Perhaps because when we saw them and launched the flare, they knew surprise was lost and they sought to gain what initial advantage they could, drawing attention away from the main group,” Ebon Umbreon suggested. “In the end, it matters not. They are coming, and we must be ready for them.” “Agreed.” Gilda nodded back, watching as a group of three Marines set up what looked like a very large gun at the top of the stairwell leading to the Main Hall entrance. She also noticed a few gemstones on the ground, some transparent, while the rest were amber, sparkling unnaturally, indicating that their magic was unspent. Leaving them to their work, Gilda summoned down Fortrakt. “Ancestors,” he muttered as he saw what they were setting up. “They have cannons that big?” But before she could reply, an evil and ugly wail echoed through the steadholt; the air itself reverberating around them. Even the humans stopped whatever they were doing, looking around nervously, trying to discern a source for the sound that seemed to be coming from everywhere. The Optio listened intently for a moment. “That sounds like an Elder Ram war cry,” he whispered, and Gilda couldn’t disagree—they had heard memory-taken recordings of the sound during Gauntlet training. But she couldn’t consider the impossibility of an extinct race being present again as the next thing Gilda heard was wood creaking. Her eyes immediately went towards the gate as something slammed into it hard from the outside, strong enough to crack it despite Nydia’s spellcasting. And then again. And again. And again. “Centurion? Something big is coming,” Fortrakt declared softly from his hover. “And there are more flyers on the way—scores of them!” “I can see that,” Gilda replied tensely. “Don steel claws, Decurion, and keep your formations loose. Don’t let yourself get swarmed by those razorbat forms! Retreat to the upper level balconies if you have to.” “By your command,” he said, launching himself into the air again. “Reload, people!” Imlay ordered, and Gilda could hear a few snaps and clicks as half-empty quivers were swapped out for fresh ones. “Stavrou, please tell me you’re almost done?” “Just a minute more, Corporal,” the Marine working on the big gun replied. “We may not have a minute!” he warned as the wail was heard again, accompanied by a short snort before another slam hit the gate. That proved to be the final straw as the enchanted wooden barrier gave way, crashing to the ground. Dust flew up, blocking Gilda’s view, but she nevertheless readied her crossbow, pulling the rod to notch it, and locked a bolt in place. Aiming it towards the gate, she noticed that she was not alone; the griffons and the Marines had the same idea, training their weapons towards the breach in their defenses. But before they could open up on the intruder, a massive swarm of razorbats descended, whipping and slashing their wings at Fortrakt’s group and forcing them to fight with desperate fury. Worse, half simply hovered in the air at a distance as they opened up their ugly beaks to fire on the Marines with spikes from their maws, which impacted the ground hard around them as they struck home. “Fuck!” she heard a pained cry over the radio, but she couldn’t recognize the voice’s owner. “I’m hit!” “Pull back inside! Now!” Imlay ordered as his Marines and Gilda’s griffons simply couldn’t knock the flyers down fast enough with steel claws and rifle fire, leaving Gilda eternally grateful the Cloven attack had been disrupted enough to prevent the flyers from striking in concert with the forces that had come out of the ground. Which was not to say their situation was any less dire. “You can’t fight them all! Get to cover in the balconies, cub!” she called out frantically to Fortrakt, who was heavily engaged and didn’t immediately reply. But before she could direct the Marines to hold their fire or join the airborne battle herself, there was a sharp flash of light behind her, which revealed itself to be the male Ibex. He had his horn manacles removed, though the silent Raven eagless had apparently teleported with him, aiming her repeater not at him but into the air. “Griffons! Clear the skies!” the Capricorn Adept shouted in Aeric using a magically boosted voice as he ran up to the rail while Gilda and the Marines looked back at him in shock. As she watched, a large ball of electricity formed between his long glowing horns, which he then launched into the air over the steadholt before collapsing with a cry of pain and what looked like fresh cracks in his barely-healed antlers. It burst fifty perches over the Main Hall with a massive eruption of sizzling sparks like miniature lightning. The bolts then spread out like anvil crawlers through a thunderhead and blanketed most of the area above the steadholt, striking down the Cloven flyers en masse while allowing the Marines and griffons to pick off the few who survived. They fell to the ground with a series of ugly thumps, smoke coming off their burned bodies as a shadowy figure began to emerge from the curtain of dust near the steadholt entrance. Little by little, it took a more solid form. It was huge, with a round body, reaching almost five ells in height, towering over human and griffon alike. The shape was familiar to Gilda, and she wondered for a moment where she had seen it. When it snorted strongly enough to blow the dust out of the way, revealing more details, she realized what she was looking at and the knowledge caused her guts to clench. It was indeed an Elder Ram—or, at least, that was the closest thing she could associate the monstrous Cloven at the breach with, and she only knew their appearance from the old museum scrolls she’d seen and some training at the Gauntlet. Though believed extinct, Kingdom soldiers received instruction on fighting them in case they should ever reappear, given they were yet another foe her nation had once fought to the finish with, in the guise of the Gryphon Empire just two decades before the war with Equestria. Lead by their immortal King Grogar, who was said to be a magic user on par with the pony Princesses themselves, they had set out to annihilate the griffon race and had very nearly done so, a hoard of rams overrunning half of Aresia before the strategic brilliance of then-Consul Salvio Gaius completely reversed the course of the war, winning a string of stunning victories over the evil king’s armies that ended with his power drained and sealed away. Like the Ibex, they had large magic-channeling horns, though theirs were far thicker and curled backwards into a coil. But unlike the Ibex, the magic they wielded was almost entirely geared towards hardening their bodies and increasing their speed and striking power; at full charge they could shatter a griffon shieldwall or punch through even an iron gate, let alone the wooden one that had splintered before its assault. Though normally quadrupedal, it stood upright like humans did on two thick black legs. The roundness of their forms was actually caused by the large arms on its side, curved and bowed. Instead of a griffon beak, it had a large snout with multiple small holes for a nose, expressionless eyes, and the two enormous back-curled horns on top of its head. It opened its mouth, revealing jagged teeth, and roared in a deafening volume that seemed to stop everyone in their tracks. “Holy fucking shit,” a pale Guerrero muttered from beside her while Gilda watched the male Ibex fall to his knees in exhaustion and pain. He… he SAVED us? she thought in disbelief as she turned her attention from the downed buck onto the new intruder. “Marines, take it down!” Imlay ordered. Cracks of thunder echoed in the air once more as the human rifles began to work on bringing death and destruction. However, unlike the Corrupted grass lions or even the earlier soldier forms, the huge Cloven took the brunt of their attacks without pause. Green blood and gore spurted out of its cracked chitin, but it still moved inexorably forward, using its magically-infused arms to shield its body from the bullets. Gilda shot her bolt out as well. She was joined by more thrums of bass as the Ravens added their repeaters to the defense. But to her dismay, most of it got deflected with only a few stray projectiles penetrating the thick chitin, and not enough to do any real damage. “Arm with explosive bolts and triple-notch your crossbows!” Giraldi ordered as Gilda groped for one of her ruby-tipped arrows. “Aim for the legs and knees! Treat them as Elder Rams, griffons!” Gilda wanted to protest. While this was said to have been a good tactic against the Elder Rams, crippling or at least limiting their ability to charge, she wasn’t so sure it was going to work this time. The Rams usually overwhelmed enemy forces by running right through them, using the powerful personal shield their horns could project to harden their bodies and protect themselves. The Cloven, however, while taking the form of the Elder Rams, had thickened the legs. That could be the reason why it hadn’t run up to them? Still, she had no other ideas. Hoping that Giraldi was on to something, she pulled on her notching bar thrice, watching her string stretch painfully taut before setting a bolt in place. With careful aim, making sure she was in a steady firing position, she unleashed one of the many bolts shooting out towards the Cloven’s left leg. Unbelievably, the tactic seemed to work as the bursting bolts did penetrate the thick and magically-reinforced chitin as more green blood poured out. But her heart sank when the Cloven creation didn’t seem to notice the damage, or even slow down. “Fuck this,” Imlay muttered. He went for his vest once more, taking out a familiar tube colored in olive and green, topped with a yellow dome. He then placed it into the larger tube attachment at the bottom of his rifle before looking at Gilda and shouting: “Everyone! Get down!” When the Marines obeyed instantly, diving for whatever cover they could, she relayed the order in Aeric to Fortrakt’s group. “Everycreature, down and cover your ears!” “Down!” Giraldi shouted in Aeric as well. They all obeyed instantly but the pain-addled Ibex male didn’t; Gilda had to leap at the woozy, horn-damaged buck who was struggling back to his hooves while staring blankly at her. She yanked him down—Ancestors knew he’d earned it for saving them from the flyers—all but tackling him. She then rolled with him to a stop on the stone floor of the balcony, trying to return the favor by protecting him with her body and armor. She’d just made it down before hearing that now-familiar thump, like a hiccup in the air. It was swiftly followed by an explosion much louder than the last time; the air smelling of burnt metal and fire as she was showered with dust and pebbles as well as a measure of foul-smelling green-tinted spatter. She heard the creature’s death cry echo through the air as she felt the floor beneath her shake. Coughing from the wave of debris the explosion had kicked up and rained down on them, Gilda’s senses returned to find her head somehow buried in the male mountain goat’s groin, who groaned beneath her. He said something inaudible as she found herself in close contact with Ibexian attributes she never dreamt she would; her nose suddenly swimming in his exotic male musk. Worse, she felt hot breath washing over her and realized her own hindquarters had somehow ended up right over his head. “Wow,” Fortrakt declared from somewhere nearby as the Ibex muttered something in his native tongue. “Ancestors, wow! Did you see that, Centur—” he trailed off as she sensed him glancing back and gaping, then hastily looking away. Crows take it… how does this keep HAPPENING? “Starshina… are you hurt?” she asked as she pushed back from him, trying to cover up where her face had been and her thoughts had impossibly gone. But he only groaned in response, not seeming to notice their compromising position, though she looked up to see the female Raven beside her was staring down at them and had acquired a flush. “Deafened… antlers cracked… don’t make me cast that again…” he begged her in Aeric before he passed out beneath her. Blushing hard and praying nocreature had noticed other than Fortrakt and the silent eagless, she quickly stood to all fours and crept back toward the edge of the balcony, leaving the Ibex lying there guarded by the gray-dyed Raven female. The dust slowly settled down, revealing a lump of black and green, unmoving and undoubtedly dead. But before Gilda could issue another order, a second wail reverberated in the air. Followed by another. And then another. The dust from the explosion cleared to reveal three more large Cloven coming through the gate. At the sight of them, Gilda suddenly felt very tired. She looked down at Imlay as he grabbed another one of those explosive cylinders—grenades, if her memory served her correctly?—and loaded it into his bottom tube. “How many of those do you have?” she asked loudly. “On my person? This is the last one,” Imlay replied grimly. “Jamal! Load a forty-mike!” he called over to his third fire team leader, who promptly moved to obey, yanking a cylinder out of its slot on his chest armor. “Maybe you should get more?” Fortrakt offered nervously. Imlay was about to reply when Stavrou’s voice was heard. “Corporal Imlay! The fifty is up and ready!” The Corporal looked towards the big gun the Marines were working on earlier, sitting on top of the stairwell beneath and just in front of the balcony. Gilda could only describe it as a large rectangular body with a smaller, but longer tube extending out from it. Judging by the large size and the black tripod keeping it upright, it wasn’t a weapon that the Marines could use while carrying. “Good work, Marine. Belay that last, Jamal! Save your grenades and let’s see if we can give these big guys a few extra breathing holes.” “Understood, Corporal!” Jamal returned the ‘grenade’ he’d been about to load to his vest. The three large Cloven wailed once more, making Gilda look back at them. They were already taking a few steps forward, arms shielding their body and faces as they took more cannon fire and her Guardsgriffons began to shoot their bolts, hitting their thickened legs and arms to little effect. She then looked back at Imlay as he grabbed one of the gemstones laid on the ground. A second later, she felt magic flaring out. As she watched, a dozen green metallic boxes materialized on the ground in front of the Corporal. “What are those?” Fortrakt asked her. “Storage Gems,” Gilda replied automatically. “I know they’re expensive, but you should know about them.” He rolled his eyes. “I know perfectly well what they are, Centurion! I meant those.” He pointed with a talon towards the green metal boxes which were stamped with white Equish text, though she didn’t know what “CRTG .50 CAL” or any of the other slightly nonsensical words beneath it meant. Imlay grabbed one of the boxes and unlatched the top to reveal a string of very long bullets; far bigger than what Marco had shown her. Oddly, they were all attached side-by-side to each other by some sort of small black chain. Offering one end to Stavrou, the Marine opened a latch on top of the large gun, inserted a single bullet, and clamped it shut. “Plug your ears and grab your balls, boys and girls! Because Ma Deuce is cutting loose!” Stavrou shouted as he ratcheted the weapon by pulling a handle that she realized wasn’t too dissimilar to a crossbow notching rod, making a loud metallic click. “Ma wha—?” Fortrakt didn’t get to complete his sentence before the big gun fired. Gilda was already prepared, placing the palms of her foretalons over her ears. But even that couldn’t block the horrifically loud cracks that punched through the air without mercy; each blast from the rifle felt like a slap to the face. If the Marine rifles sounded like individual bolts of lightning, this gun sounded like a close-range lightning volley. And to judge from the Cloven, it hit like one too. Their thick chitin and large bodies that had withstood explosive bolts and regular bullets alike were gruesomely shredded as the big gun did the jobs the smaller Marine rifles couldn’t. Their enormous armored and magically-charged arms didn’t even seem to slow the powerful projectiles, exploding into green and black pieces. When the first charging Cloven fell, the gun went silent, making Gilda look down at Stavrou. “Shit!” Hearing his curse, she wondered if something had gone wrong, but after pulling back on that handle once more to eject a single unfired cylinder—was that a ‘jam’ that Marco mentioned could happen?—he continued firing. One by one, the monstrous Cloven soldiers fell to the irresistible impacts of the massive but still-supersonic projectiles; it was only after the last one collapsed in a heap of greenish gore and broken body parts that Stavrou finally stopped firing, the end of his weapon emitting smoke. There were no additional wails, or even a cry of victory from the Marines. Gilda fell silent as well, feeling pensive at the death brought forth by the massive gun, and a look around her showed she wasn’t alone—the Auxilias of her command were likewise shocked anew by what the ‘heavier’ human weapon could do, staring at it in a mixture of wonder and wariness. The only griffon who didn’t look dumbstruck was Fortrakt, and Gilda had to say, that was only because he looked more awestruck than anything; his beak was so far agape that she thought he could take an entire Saddle Arabian spear within it. She wasn’t sure where that thought came from until she smelled male excitement in the air; she turned to see her former junior partner was very openly and visibly aroused. “By all our Ancestors, I want to fire one of those cannons,” he whispered reverently from a hover beside her, seemingly unaware of his state. “I’d never have guessed,” she said dryly, unable not to notice his impressive stature given it hung but a body length away from her, leaving her wondering if she or Tara had taken it before. If we did, how did it even FIT? “Because it looks like you’re about to fire your own cannon, cub.” “I… what?” He looked down at his body and gaped, then immediately alighted, sitting down hard and trying to hide himself with his talons. He flushed hard even though she didn’t think anycreature else had noticed him, with all eyes fixed ahead. “S-sorry…” Though she might have reprimanded him for the untoward display, Gilda only shook her head, unable to really fault him given she wasn’t sure if she was more aroused by or afraid of the gun’s enormous destructive potential herself. So this means humans actually use such horrifically powerful weapons on each other? But she had little time to consider the question as she looked towards the dead Cloven Rams, then towards the sky, seeing still more Cloven flyers orbiting the steadholt at a safe distance while remembering that there were another two and a half centuries of Cloven soldiers on the way. Two and a half centuries coming and how many more behind that? She wondered how many attacks they could take before they were ground down to nothing regardless of the Ravens and Marine cannons, or if it was even possible to reach Aricia now given the Cloven seemed to be concentrating against them. “Save it, Decurion. This is not the time, so sheath your spear and pray to the Ancestors they have plenty more of those bullets,” she told Fortrakt sharply, “because crows know this is only the beginning of the battle…” her voice trailed off as she heard rapid human footfalls up the stairs behind her. “Gilda!” Chris’s voice called out to her frantically, though he briefly gaped at the collapsed Ibex male. “Gilda!” She rounded on him hard. “Crows take it… what are you doing up here, Chris? I told you three to stay downstairs!” “Sorry, but it couldn’t wait,” he explained, holding up his portal device in disbelief and excitement. “You’re not gonna believe this, but my phone buzzed when the battle was happening! I’ve picked up an incoming text!” Though Gilda had no idea what that meant, the Marines seemed to. “A text? How? And from whom?” Guerrero asked in disbelief. “That’s just it!” Chris said excitedly. “I have no idea how she managed it, but the sender is showing up in my contact list… as Starlight Glimmer!”