//------------------------------// // Interlude: The Winds of War // Story: Rekindled Embers // by applezombi //------------------------------// Interlude: The Winds of War Cobalt sat down at the conference table with a sigh.  Ninelives and Top Brass sat across from him.  The skinny zebra bore his usual neutral look, but the old earth pony looked just as exhausted as Cobalt. “Preparations are in a good place, Sir Cobalt,” the general said.  “The military is ready to march at your word.  I assume your Knights are ready as well.  Have we heard from Sir Heartwing?” “We have.”  Cobalt slipped the brown messenger bag he’d been wearing onto the table with a small thud.  He pulled out two letters, crinkled and shoved back into their envelopes.  “Take a look.  I don’t know what to think.” Ninelives was quicker, pulling out first one, then the other. Cobalt watched as his eyes scanned the letters, his lips moving silently as he read.  Finally he slid them both over to Top Brass. “They’re real.  The first one is, at least.  It’s really Heartwing, and he’s really put us all under Princess Flurry’s command.  All the cyphers are intact, so either she broke him completely, or we’re now loyal soldiers of the Crystal Empire.” “Do you think Heartwing could be broken?” Cobalt asked.  Top Brass and Ninelives both looked up at him with blank looks.  He laughed.  “Right.  So it looks like we’re marching on New Canterlot City, then.” “Heartwing’s orders leave lots of room for interpretation and small-scale strategy,” Top Brass said. “That’s what I thought, too,” Cobalt said.  “I was thinking of splitting our forces.  I take the pegasus Knights, and as many other Knights as I can stuff into our airships and make haste to connect with Princess Flurry.  While you two take the regular forces, bolstered by the remaining Knights.” “What’s our target?” Top Brass asked. Ninelives pointed at the letter.  “Didn’t you read Sir Heartwing’s sign-off?  ‘Go and raise a ruckus, my friends’.  If you and I are off raiding the Diarchy Heartlands, they’ll have to think twice before committing their forces to fight the Crystal Ponies.” Top Brass tapped a row of runes carved into the table, and an illusory map appeared.  He leaned forward, studying the miniature contours and topography.  “The region around Appleoosa,” Ninelives said, pointing.  “We hit the transportation infrastructure.  Train lines, airship ports, even the small seaports along the beach.  Cut off the food supply chain between there and the capital.” “That will certainly draw their attention.” “We’ll have to run in small, mobile groups,” Ninelives continued.  “Swift and agile, borrowing from my people’s techniques.”  Top Brass was nodding.  “No pitched battles, strike and retreat.  Ghosts in the night.” “Do we know what the end goal is?” Top Brass asked.  “Why now?  What’s Flurry’s endgame?” All three stared silently at the table.  Cobalt finally broke the silence, flexing his claws against the wood of the table. “It’s a hard thing to ask ponies to risk their lives when we don’t even know what the objective is,” he said.  “But you’re sure this letter is real?”  Ninelives nodded.  “Then I trust Heartwing.  And whatever scheme he has planned, we’ve got to give it the best chance of success.”  He felt a smile tug at the edges of his beak.  “Time to go raiding.” *   *   *   *   *              Even after four years living in Griffonstone, Alto Flute was still not used to the way they built their front doors.  It made sense, in a way; Griffonstone spread vertically rather than horizontally, and space was at a premium.  So there was no real use for porches.  Instead, most front doors, including hers, had a perch in front, perfect for griffons to clutch with their claws while they pulled the door open.              Not quite designed for Alto Flute and her pegasus body, of course.  She hovered awkwardly above the perch as she reached out, fumbling with the doorknob with one hoof while clutching the sack of goodies in the other.              Finally she managed to work her front door open, just in time to brace herself for the totally expected surprise attack that hid behind it.              “Momma Alto!  Momma Alto!” A duet of enthused voices, spinning through the air in circles around her head, assaulted her ears with their delight.  “Guess what we did in school today?  C’mon, guess, guess!”              It was a chorus of joy as the twin griffon chicks cavorted and darted through the air.  Alto couldn’t hold back her own laughter; ever since Paradis and Joie had learned to fly, they’d been irrepressible in the skies.  Alto loved every second of it.              “Woah, there, little ones.  Let me in before you swarm me, okay?  Where’s Momma Genevieve?              “Bakin’ cookies cuz she says she’s proud.” Paradis finally hovered in front of her pony mother, puffing out her feathery chest with pride herself.              “Yeah, yeah!” Joie flew alongside her sister.  The two chicks were nearly identical; each bore the same golden yellow fur on their hind halves, and the same white feathery down on their eagle fronts.  But Joie’s feathers were streaked with grey accents, while Paradis sported pastel blues on hers.  “Proud cuz we…”              “Hush, Paradis!  Momma Alto’s supposed to guess!”  Both chicks backed into the house, allowing their mom to slip inside and land her tired hooves on the soft carpeted floor of their home.              Since her chicks had slowed down long enough for Alto to inspect them, she took the time to look over her children, in search of clues.  Her breath caught in her throat as she noticed what they were probably proud of.  Joie had broken feathers in her wings, and Paradis sported a bruise just under her eye.              “You dueled?” Alto Flute tried to keep her voice even.  When Sir Heartwing had asked her to move to Griffonstone as part of the Discordant’s long standing officer exchange program, he’d warned her that their oldest allies had some different ideas about honor and glory.  His standing orders were to acclimate, to fit in, to better cement the alliance.  When she’d decided to marry Genivieve, adopt her chicks as her own children, and set up a permanent home here, she’d sworn to uphold their traditions as her own.  That didn’t mean she had to like her own kids getting involved, though.              “Yeah, yeah!  And we WON!” Joie pumped a clenched claw in the air.  “I challenged Yolanda cuz she’s a stupidfeather who said I had a dumb pony name, and Paradis challenged Umbra cuz she said mean stuff about… um…” Joie trailed off, shooting nervous glances between Paradis and Alto.  Alto could guess the reason; she’d known when she adopted them that they might face some issues because of her.              “I don’t like you calling your dueling opponent names,” Alto chided.  “Did they act with honor?”              “Yes,” both chicks intoned, deflating a little.              “Did you?”              “Yeah, yeah!” Paradis said, and both of them brightened again.  “Mister Javier said we did good, thanking our opponents and showing re… res…” Paradis’ beak screwed up in an adorable look of concentration.              “Restraint?” Alto said, and the chicks nodded brightly.  “Well, then, I’m proud of you too.  Nobody’s permanently hurt, are they?”  She couldn’t help but let a note of worry creep in.              “Nah, we’re not allowed to duel to first blood, so it’s three hits, and then it’s over,” Joie said.  “Yolanda only got me twice, and Umbra got a lucky hit on Paradis’ face.”  Paradis helpfully showed off her bruise.  Alto forced a smile she didn’t quite feel.              “Well done, both of you.  Now, let me through.  I brought scones for dinner, and I’d love to kiss your Momma hello.  Both of you go wash up for dinner.”              Both children made appropriate faces of disgust at her plan, which brought back some of Alto’s good mood.  They rushed off towards the bathroom, and Alto moved towards the kitchen at a more sedate pace, smiling at the crayon drawings and family photographs that covered the entry hall walls.              Genivieve was indeed hard at work in the kitchen, spooning lumps of sweet batter onto a baking sheet.  A grin spread across her face as she saw Alto Flute, who floated over with a flick of her wings to smooch her wife on the beak.  “Hey, gorgeous.”              “Hey yourself.”  Gen held out the spoon towards Alto.  “Give it a try.”              Alto licked the spoon tentatively, then beamed as the flavor of chocolate and raspberries exploded on her tongue.  “Wow.  Intense.  I like.”              “Thanks.  I assume the kids told you their news?”              “They did.”  Here, she could show her distaste.  Gen gave her a sympathetic look.  “I know.  It’s your way.”              “Our way,” Gen corrected.  “You’re one of us, now.  Even King Grover said so.”              “Yeah.”  Alto smiled.  “Just takes some getting used to when it’s my kids dueling, you know?”              “I get it.”  Gen pointed at the small kitchen table, stacked with a pile of envelopes.  “You got a letter from Angel’s Rest.  It’s on the top of the stack.  Have a seat and read, in just a bit the first batch will be out of the oven and you can try the finished product.”              Curious, Alto slid into the talon-carved wooden seat and grabbed the top envelope on the stack.  It was indeed from Angel’s Rest, sent directly to the Griffonstone post office via dragonfire scroll.  Idly Alto wished she could have mail delivered instantly, but the beacons that guided enchanted mail delivery were too expensive to have in a private home.  She tore the letter open and pulled out the paper inside, growing more and more alert as she read.              “Um, love?  Could you…” she felt her heart pounding in her ears, and her breath came quickly.  “C-could you help me with my armor?  I need to go see the King.”              “Can’t it wait until after dinner?” Gen said, eyeing the bag of scones Alto had brought.              “No.  No, love.  I have to see him right away.”  She looked up to see the hint of fear in Gen’s eyes.  “I… I’ll tell you when I get back.”  Fear became hurt, and Alto smiled reassuringly.  “It’s not secret, just important.  And you know how your cousin gets prickly sometimes.  You think he’d be okay if I got the biggest news of my life, and told you before him?”              Gen shuddered, though she was smiling.  “You’re right, you’re right.  You think you’ll be home in time for dinner, though?”              Alto hesitated.  “Save some for me, okay?  This could take a while.”              A few minutes later, Alto Flute was once again flying through the skies of Griffonstone, this time clad in her yellow Discordant armor and carrying her spear.  As she flew towards the palace, she idly remembered a time when the sight of her would have been greeted with stares.  Now the griffons she passed either ignored her or nodded politely.              Open court in Griffonstone took the concept quite literally.  A wide platform flanked by pillars sat at the very top of the palace.  It was open to the sunset skies above, serving as the public audience hall for when King Grover the Fifteenth was holding court.  Alto Flute landed on the guarded platform that served as a formal entry point for those wishing to approach the throne.               Alto could see that court was quite busy today, with dozens of griffons fluttering about, shouting and arguing with each other at the top of their lungs.  There was an honor duel in progress, two griffon hens with blunted gauntlets covering the sharp tips of their claws, circling each other trying to find an opening and strike.              The guards glanced nervously at her as she approached.  It was a rare event to see the Knight in her armor these days, and they suspected trouble.  Instead, Alto Flute bowed low and laid her spear on the ground.              “Lady Alto Flute of the Knights Discordant, wishing to approach the king, presents her spear in pledge of peace.”  It had been years since she’d had to use the ritual to approach King Grover, and the guards knew it, staring at each other in shock.  But Alto knew that the urgency of her news merited it, and the formality would appeal to him.              Indeed, several members of court had noticed the method and behavior of her arrival.  The furor was dying down, replaced by stunned silence.              “E-enter in peace,” one guard whispered, finally remembering the rest of the ritual.  “Carry your honor with you.”  Alto nodded, leaving her spear where it was as she stood and stepped boldly into the center of the open space.              The duel had paused, the two combatants staring at Alto as she moved towards the throne.  King Grover the Fifteenth, a majestic middle-aged griffon with golden feathers and fur, sat proudly on the noble throne that his family had held for the last five centuries.  “Lady Alto.  My friend and cousin-in-law.  Approach the throne.”  She moved until she stood just beneath the throne’s raised dais, and the king lowered his voice so only she could hear.  “Is the news so dire as to require such procedure, my friend?”              “Not dire, but important,” Alto said.  She held out the letter to him.  “I have received word from my comrades in Angel’s Rest.”              She watched the king’s eyes closely as they darted back and forth over the paper.  Slowly his eyebrows narrowed, even as his beak curved into a grin.  The entire throne room felt tense behind her, coiled and waiting to hear the news from their king.              Finally he looked up, meeting her eyes, as his grin spread to a full smile.  “Lady Alto, you have brought me the most wonderful news.”  He surged into the air, beating his wings to fly a few griffon-lengths above the rest of the court.  “My friends and subjects, our ally and friend from the Discordant has brought me news.  The Crystal Empire marches to war against the Diarchy!” The air was cut with the screeches of griffon battle cries; several pumped clenched claws into the air, though King Grover held up his own open for silence.  It was a long time before the court had quieted enough to hear the King’s next words.              “Our oldest allies have joined themselves with the Empire and have managed to light a fire under the pink pony princess’ rump.”  Assembled laughter rippled through the crowd.  “We do not know the entirety of their plan, but they mean to move on the capital itself!  Now, our dear friends do not ask for our aid.  But we owe a debt.  A debt of honor, and of family.  I say we draw the Diarchy bastards’ forces thin and draw their eyes to the North!  I say it’s time to smash the forts along our borders, drive the Diarchy from our lands, and teach them to tremble in their tin can armor whenever they see a winged shadow overhead!” The court roared its approval at his speech.  Only Alto was close enough to see the king’s almost imperceptible sigh of relief.  In truth, the griffon monarchy was much more democratic than it appeared; if the king didn’t have his people’s support, he probably could have done nothing. But honor ran deep in the griffons, and a debt was a debt.  She leaned over with hoof and wing to give the King a tight embrace. “I’ve told you before, cousin,” he grunted.  “Hugging isn’t really a griffon thing.” “I know,” Alto whispered.  “Thank you.” *   *   *   *   * Dragonlord Ember played with the staff in her claws.  It was a tiny thing, now, so much smaller than when she’d first held it high in victory. A victory earned by friendship. Now she could pinch it between one finger and her thumb. “You think I’ll object?” It was an old voice, nearly as ancient as her.  The Dragonlord turned her head, peering through the smoke and heat of the old volcano cone to one of her oldest friends.  The Voice of Peace had been her advisor for centuries, and was now watching her intently, her cyan eyes unreadable. “Isn’t that your job?” Ember snorted, a huff of smoke slipping out of her nostrils.  “I created your title to be the voice of civility, reason, and friendship.  You’ve spent the last eight centuries telling me I’m wrong.” “Which you told me to,” Smolder noted. “And you listen.” “Sometimes.” Ember snorted again.  “I assume if you’re here, that means you heard about the messenger.  Go ahead.  Tell me to do nothing again.” “Why?” “Because that’s what you always do!” Ember growled. Smolder laughed.  “Perhaps.  But again, that was my job description.  You wanted me to advocate for peace, to be the voice of calmness and rationality.  It’s why you assigned yourself two different voices, two advisors, a voice of peace and a voice of war.”  A confident smirk slipped over the old dragon’s maw.  “I’d like to think I’m pretty good at it, as you’ve kept me here for centuries, while you’ve had, how many is it?” “You know the answer to that.”  Thirteen.  There had been thirteen different Voices of War.  And only one Voice of Peace.  A constant throughout her reign.  “So go ahead.  Tell me to do nothing again.” “Not this time,” Smolder said, and Ember’s head shot up, her wings beating involuntarily in shock, sending volcanic ash swirling through the air. “But…” “Have you heard that Rarity is back?” Smolder said, and Ember blinked, taken aback by the non-sequitur. “That’s… a rumor.  Some kind of game Discord and his toy knights are playing.” “Not according to Spike,” Smolder said. “You talked to the old lizard?” Ember snorted, holding back the sudden stab of jealousy and dismay.  Spike wouldn’t speak with her. “I even have the missing scales to prove it.” Smolder turned her shoulder, showing off the shallow claw marks there. “He attacked you?” “It was more of a warning.” Smolder shrugged.  “He’s not nearly as grumpy as he puts on.”  She shook her head.  “But that’s not important.  What is important is that Spike confirmed the rumors.  Rarity is alive.  She’s collecting the Elements of Harmony.  As far as I know, they’ve found three of them.  And bearers.” “So that’s what Flurry is up to.”  The Elements of Harmony.  Ember had long ago set aside any hope at true peace with ponies, but something about those old artifacts fanned the flames again.  She looked into Smolder’s hopeful eyes.  “You’re agreeing with the Voice of War’s position.  You want to go to their aid.” “Is it so weird that I want to see Professor Rarity again?” Smolder smirked. For an instant, Ember could see the shadow of the young dragon Smolder once was. *   *   *   *   * Ardent Communion was out of breath.  He’d been running nearly non-stop for a day, after all, but even athletic earth ponies, buoyed up by rune spells, could only run for so long.  But when he’d set out from Portia Protea he’d had no idea where Blue Jasper’s band of fighters was currently hiding. Honestly, it was pure luck that he’d found them within one day.  The Limitless Blue were notoriously impossible to find. As his hooves churned up the desert sand, though, he caught a glimpse of the sun reflecting off the barrel of a long rifle.  Maybe not luck, then, but something else.  He’d been spotted. Ardent took a moment to catch his breath, glancing deliberately towards the sniper who had so politely announced their presence.  The Limitless Blue knew he was a friend, but that didn’t stop his heart from pounding nervously.  Not everypony was familiar with the Discordant, or would know what the yellow stripes on his lavender armor would mean. When no rifle fire came roaring from the distant glint, he began walking again, moving slowly and non threateningly towards the distant dune. It wasn’t long before a cadre of zebras, draped head to hoof in desert camouflage, emerged from behind the sniper’s dune and began trotting his way.  He upped his pace to meet them. The leader was a zebra mare, tall and muscled with a bright orange cord, the same color as Ardent’s mane, braided into her mane and tail.  She kept pace with her squad as long as she could, before breaking into a gallop with a delighted cry and rushing into his hooves. “I missed you, Annika,” he whispered into her mane as she held him tight.  “It has been too long.” “But you are here now, so my joy is full,” she said back to him, holding him out at hooves length to stare into his eyes.  “Your timing is excellent, my husband.  But what brings you out to the dunes?” “Message for Blue Jasper.  Two, actually, though the first is late.” She eyed the black band strapped around the armor covering his leg.  “Dire news?” “One bit, yes.  Lady Justice has fallen in battle.” The zebras around him hissed angrily, and Annika spat a string of curse words in her native tongue.  “Come.  Jasper will need to hear this.” The zebra fighters surrounded Ardent in a tight escort as they led him into camp.  He’d spent years among the Limitless Blue, but every time he entered he was still amazed at the way they were able to effortlessly blend their camp into the environment.  The desert camp consisted of dozens of tents partially buried in the sand, made from gritty, mottled cloths that perfectly blended with the surroundings. He doubted even a pegasus scout would be able to spot it unless they were right on top of it. The largest tent sat in the middle of the camp, against the side of a dune several ponies tall.  Two nearly invisible zebras waited outside. “Wait here,” Annika said, stepping towards the tent, before hesitating.  With a shy, almost girlish grin she leaned over and kissed him quickly on the cheek.  “I’ll be only a moment.” “I shall count the heartbeats,” he said back with a confident smile, and the tall warrior mare giggled like a filly.  The other soldiers shared amused looks while Annika slipped through the beige tent flap. He didn’t have to count long.  There was a hushed explosion of voices before Annika emerged, this time with an elderly zebra stallion in tow.  He was spry, with sapphire eyes that sparkled with energy and a thinning mane that he kept habitually dyed blue. “Ardent Communion, you bring dire news, my friend,” the old shaman said as he reached out to hug the Knight.  “Is it true that Lady Justice met her end?” “I’m sorry, Jasper,” Ardent said.  “It is true.  I would have sought you out sooner, but things have been happening quickly.  There is more news, and I was asked to wait for an official message.” He reached back into his saddlebags, pulling out a sealed missive only slightly crumpled from his run.  Jasper took it, inspecting the wax seal on the outside, bearing the sigil of the Crystal Heart. “You know what the contents are?” he asked.  Ardent nodded.  “I’ll have to ask that you do not go far.”  He broke the seal open, pulling out the letter on the spot.  His eyes scanned the page, hardening as they went. “Soldiers, our friend had a hard run.  Please find him refreshments to recover from the sun.  Annika, find the others.  I believe they are resting beneath their own covers.” “Others?” Ardent asked, as the soldiers rushed off to follow the old shaman’s orders.  Jasper merely smiled and beckoned with one hoof inside his tent.  Ardent shrugged and followed him. Jasper’s tent was a monument to a life lived fully; there was a wooden rack full of an assortment of blades and guns, all notched and marked with use.  The cloth walls were sewn with the names and cutie marks of ponies and zebras long passed.  Hanging from the wooden frame were keepsakes and trinkets, a hundred little mementos of his travels. “It breaks my heart, this news you bring,” Jasper sighed.  “Nothing I can do will take away the sting.” “I know I shall miss her sorely,” Ardent said.  Justice had been one of his first mentors in the Discordant, the first pony to help him through his faith transition. “There is something coming that you need to see.  Something that Justice long sought to be.  I had thought not to start today, but the omens have shown me it must be this way.” “What are you…” “Be patient, young Knight.  For I seek to bring new allies to your fight.” With that, Jasper sat down in the middle of the tent, closing his eyes.  Ardent wanted to push him, his burning curiosity like an untended itch, but he held back.  He was sure he’d find out soon. It did only take a few minutes before the tent flap once again opened.  Annika entered, alongside two other zebra fighters.  Following them was what looked sort of like a unicorn, but unlike any Ardent had ever seen.  He had a curved green horn that split at the end, and his voluminous brown mane fluffed around his face like a lion’s.  Ardent was sure he could see patches of what looked like dragon scales on the creature’s body. Another strange creature followed the first.  This one was a pony, much like a pegasus, but with membranous bat-like wings extending from her navy-blue torso.  She had a long ice-blue mane tied into pigtails, and when her slit-like eyes spied Ardent and his armor, she hissed, arching her spine and spreading her wings threateningly.  Ardent was sure he could see fangs. “Be at peace, Raspberry Ice.  This Knight Discordant is really quite nice.” “Discordant!  But…” the strange pegasus’ eyes zeroed on the yellow bands, and she visibly relaxed.  “Uh, sorry.  But why is he here?  Isn’t he already…” “Be patient, please,” the dragon-pony said.  “I’m sure Jasper has a good reason for this.” “I do, indeed.  Ardent Communion’s presence serves a need.  While our deeds today must be occluded, the Discordant have to be included.  Ardent will be allowed to observe; it’s no less than our allies deserve.” Everypony else nodded slowly, even the bat pegasus.  Ardent was now even more confused, but one thing his training in the Mystics had given him was the ability to stay stoic in the face of odd or inexplicable things happening about him.  Discretion was prized among his former brothers and sisters. “Now, Deep Root tells me he’s been successful.  To wait any longer would be far too stressful.”  The dragon pony creature nodded his head.  “With zebra alchemy, thestral artifice, and kirin magic, we have come to a result we hope will not be tragic.  But I do need to warn; it is possible that your lives could be torn.  Nothing important is without threat, but none of us here will balk, I’d bet.  Still, if you need to leave, I think none of us here would grieve.” “I’m staying.  I’ll accept the risk.”  Annika’s eyes blazed with passion, and her gaze met Ardent’s.  He knew his brow was furrowed with confusion, but she smiled slightly.  Whatever was happening, she was happy with it, and Ardent trusted his wife with his life. The other zebras voiced their confidence as well, and the kirin and thestral (as Jasper had called them) both nodded confidently. “Then candidates, gather in a ring!  Ardent, you and I will wait outside the thing.”  The three zebras, the thestral, and the kirin all formed a rough circle, facing each other.  Annika took a moment to give Ardent a quick hug. “Don’t worry,” she whispered.  “This is a good thing.” “I trust you,” he said simply, and she squeezed him tightly before rejoining the circle.  “Now, I am told by Deep Root, that the danger to your lives is not moot.  Focus and concentration are a must, or the entire process could be a bust.  So to sharpen your minds on your goals, your own motivations you will extol.  Tell us why you fight, to remind you of your strength and your light.  We will start with Deep Root; tell us how your path lead to this fruit.” “Share why I want to fight, hm?”  The kirin’s voice was soft, a nervous sort of tenor.  “I could tell you all about my people.  How for hundreds of years, we’ve lived in the shadow of the Great Tree.  How we listen to her voice, and feel her pulse.  I could say it was her will that I come here, and join my people’s might to the zebras in fighting to drive the cancer from their shores.”  He chuckled weakly.  “But if I’m being honest, it’s all for me.  I need to see how far I can go.  How much I can push myself.  Um, that’s all.”  He turned to the next in the circle, a zebra stallion. “I fight for Justice,” he said.  “Both the pony and the virtue.  She died too soon.  I’ll happily die to follow her cause.” Next was the thestral.  “I’m fighting for home.”  She waved a hoof, her wings trembling as she spoke.  “This isn’t our home.  My people don’t have one, and haven’t for centuries.  We did, once.  We had a home, and a princess.  We had quiet cities and communities.  The zebra lands are wonderful and beautiful and plentiful.  But they’re not ours.  With this we can repay our gracious hosts, and maybe even carve out a place for ourselves, somewhere.” Another zebra stallion was next.  “I fight for peace.  My mother, my brother, my grandfather, and my nephew have all fallen to Diarchy violence.  I hate to shed blood.  But I’ll spill mine and theirs before another innocent feels the bite of a Diarchy spear.” Last was Annika.  She matched eyes with Ardent.  “I fight for love.”  The others waited for her to say more, but she shook her head, her eyes brimming with tears.  Ardent wiped one from his own eye. “Keep your reasons first in your mind, and all the strength you need, you’ll find.  When you survive this ordeal, a bell of freedom and truth will peal.”  Jasper picked up a wooden case, flipping the metal latch and pulling it open.  Ardent gasped.  Inside were five vials of a hauntingly familiar looking potion.  He nearly spoke, but Annika once again met his eyes and shook her head.  He gulped, and nodded back. “I trust you,” he mouthed wordlessly. Jasper began to pass out the potions to each of the creatures.  Each one took it in their hooves; some eagerly, some with determination and trepidation mixed.  Ardent’s heart was beating so loudly in his chest he could hear it.  He felt ill. “Now, speak, you all, the oath we have penned.  Upon you all of our hopes depend.” They spoke in unison, and Ardent felt both pride and terror at war raging within his breast.              “We are the blades of the oppressed              the light in the murky dark.              We stand against those who harm the weak              and shed our blood to the last drop.               We are reborn with family anew              Zebrica is our Mother              our fellow Knights are brother and sister              and the innocent are our children.              We swear these oaths:              We will drive the usurpers from Mother’s shores              We will lift up our brothers and sisters              We will keep our children safe.              We name ourselves the Knights of the Mother, and this oath binds us as one.” As they spoke, Jasper moved between them all, handing each creature one of the vials.  Ardent’s heart was threatening to burst as he saw his beloved, his dearest Annika, holding the dangerous, wonderful, cursed concoction in her hooves. “You have chosen a grandmaster to lead you, and keep your hooves on the path, true?” Jasper asked.  They all nodded. “I have agreed to serve the Order of the Mother in this way,” Annika said firmly, and Ardent’s chest swelled with pride.  She cleared her throat.  “Ancient records speak of a zebra so wise and kind, that even the ponies’ legendary Princess of Friendship went to her for advice.  Just as our enemies paint their armor with the symbols of their false Saints, we will mark ourselves in honor of the shaman so wise even the immortals sought her wisdom.  Now, Knights, drink your potions, and step into your destinies.” One by one they removed the corks from their potions, upending the liquid into their mouths.  Ardent knew well what came next.  First their faces twisted with discomfort at the taste; chalky and a little bitter.  Then came the cramps, the pain, the lightning as the magic spread over the whole body. Annika kept her eyes open the entire time, locked to his.  They brimmed with tears as her jaw clenched, but the two lovers kept their eyes on each other.  I will give you what strength I can, he tried to say with his look, and hoped she understood. *   *   *   *   * “It’s oddly beautiful, isn’t it?  Even in monochrome.” Katyusha was long used to her mentor’s odd habits of sneaking up on her.  The elderly Knight Adamant may have been far past reasonable retirement age, but he could still move more quietly than she would have guessed. She suspected it had something to do with the snow.  The balcony was covered in enough of a fresh layer to muffle any hoofsteps.  She didn’t even turn to look at him approaching from the Outpost interior.  “I think so, Sir Lamplight.”  She lifted a hoof, draped in a faux-fur lined version of her Squire robes.  It was necessary this far north, up against the foothills of the southern edge of the Crystal Mountains.  The snow-draped peaks spiked into the sky, a pristine white with only the hint of rose glow from the massive shield behind them.  “I’ve always enjoyed the sight of fresh snow, though.  The pure silence of it.” “Heh.  You can keep it.  Snow’s bad for my joints.” It was a common complaint, and Katyusha merely nodded.  She was used to that sort of thing back in her home of Stalliongrad; the old babushkas and dedushkas had made an art of stoic complaining.  Particularly about the cold weather. “Well, it’s a good thing you can get some pleasure out of it,” Sir Lamplight continued, shaking his grey mane.  “Saints know there’s nothing else good about this posting.” He’d made it clear, on the train north all those months ago, that Outpost 39 was a dead end for Knights like him.  He’d been too outspoken and too much of a problem for too long, so they’d banished him to the world’s coldest listening post, watching for any sign of motion from over the mountains.  Motion, they’d assured him, that hadn’t come in centuries, and would likely never come.  The only concession to his years of service in the Adamant was that he was still allowed to take the occasional squire, such as Katyusha. She didn’t mind in the slightest.  She loved the cold, and she loved the cranky old stallion that came with it.  The solitude didn’t bother her much, either, and the small squad of regular army recruits attached to the Outpost treated her like an odd mix of Knight and mascot.  She’d be sorry when, in a month’s time, she’d have to board a train back south, to take on the next stage of her Knight training.  “Another avalanche?” Sir Lamplight said suddenly, and Katyusha looked up at the mountain.  In the distance, a cloud of churning snow was just rising from one of the passes between Sapphire Peak and Rubyspire Peak.  She squinted; how had the old stallion seen it before her? “I’ll get the log and note it,” she said, but he grunted, holding up a hoof to stop her.  His ears twitched. “Wait, listen.  Can you hear that?” She leaned forward, straining against the cold iron railing of the balcony, her ears perked forward.  The avalanche was too far off to hear, just yet.  “Hear what?” “It sounds like…” Sir Lamplight trailed off, his gaze shooting up.  “Huh.  Katyusha.  Where’s the glow?” “Glow?” “The pink aura of the shield.  Where…” Katyusha’s eyes shot to the snow at the tops of the mountains, usually illuminated by the subtle aura of the Crystal Empire’s barrier.  It was gone. “Kat?  Go back inside.”  Sir Lamplight’s voice was deadly serious.  “Signal Outpost 23.  Code Volcano.  Tell the soldiers to be ready for attack.” She had no idea what Code Volcano meant, but there was no arguing with Sir Lamplight’s voice.  She rushed back inside, shouting as she sprinted down the stairs.  “To arms!  To arms!  We’re under attack!” Soldiers, dressed in regular uniforms, sat casually around a table playing cards.  She knew them, had eaten with them for months. “This some kinda joke?” the sergeant, a middle aged mare named Unicycle, gave Katyusha a smile.  “Not really subtle, Kat.  What’s…” “No joke,” she interrupted.  “Sir Lamplight’s orders.  The shield is gone, and something is coming down the mountain!  He says ‘Code Volcano’.” The soldier’s smiles disappeared, and they muttered but stood, reaching about for rifles and spears. “You know where the radio is, Kat,” the sergeant said.  “I’ll take the old Knight his spear.” Katyusha nodded and rushed back into the radio room.  Learning to operate the outdated machinery had been one of the first things she’d done here; chatting with the other outposts was one of the few ways to pass the time up north.  She flipped the on switch, hearing a burst of static. Carefully she turned the frequency dial, tuning in to the open channel they kept with their closest neighboring outpost.  Nervously she picked up the mouthpiece and held down the send button. “Outpost 39 calling Outpost 23, over.” She spoke clearly and deliberately, then took her hoof off the button.  Quiet static answered her back.  She waited a few breaths, then repeated herself.  Again.  A third time.  Still nothing. “Outpost 39 calling Outpost 23, this is a Code Volcano.  Please confirm.  Over.” Again she waited.  Again nothing. “This is Outpost 39, calling to any outpost that might be listening.  Code Volcano.  Over.” Each heartbeat in the silence that followed thudded loudly in her chest.  With a gulp, she set the mouthpiece back down.  Each step made her hooves feel like lead. On the balcony, the soldiers were lined along the iron railing, aiming their weapons at the distant descending avalanche.  She could hear the rumble of descending snow, only it didn’t sound quite natural.  Almost like hooves. Lamplight had a spear at his side, though he also held a rifle himself.  “Response?” “N-none, sir.  I’m not getting through.” “You’ll have to go on hoof, then.  You have two minutes to grab an emergency pack and get out.  Take a map.  Bypass Outpost 23, head for the village of Last Stop.  Do whatever you can to get the news to Lady Meteorflare, of the Adamant.  She commands the Army’s 3rd Northern Division.” “But sir, I can’t…” “I order it, squire.  Go now or I cannot recommend you for Knighthood.” Tears stung her eyes, and she nodded, running down into the supply room.  The emergency packs were well stocked and ready, and she pulled one off its hook and threw it around her torso, tightening the buckle with her teeth.  Instead of running out the door, though, she made one last trip up to the balcony. “What do I tell them, sir?”  She could hear distinct voices in the avalanche, a battle chant of some sort, yelling ‘yak smash, yak smash,’ over and over.  She had no idea what it meant, though she was beginning to see hints of brown fur and some kind of armor through the snowy cover.  “At Last Stop.” “Tell them Outpost 39 has fallen, and that the Diachy is under attack from the Empire.  And if you can, as you run, pray for us.  It was an honor, Squire Katyusha.  Now run!” Katyusha turned and ran.