A Song of Storms: Of Skies Long Forgotten

by The 24th Pegasus


Chapter 16: Hurricane

In a game with no rules, far be it from us to judge who wins and who loses. Sometimes, even the dead can be victorious.

---Message found carved into the ruins of Stratopolis
Author Unknown

Chapter 16: Hurricane

Hurricane awoke to a gentle nudge against his shoulder. In the dark, pre-dawn hours, it was nearly impossible for his eyes to spot the contours of objects. What little light there was from the east fell through the open windows of his room, reflecting off of the armor of the pegasus standing beside him.

“It’s time.” Silver Sword dropped Hurricane’s armor on his bed and waited for the tired emperor to get up. Rolling out of the cold and lonely covers, Hurricane stretched his back and his wings before taking up the first piece of iron and gold. In a few slow minutes, Commander Hurricane, the last emperor of the Cirran Empire, stood fully cloaked in gold and steel armor.

There were no candles to light the halls as they navigated corridors and descended staircases. The usual early morning bustle of servants and secretaries was gone, replaced by a deathly emptiness and the hollow echoes of hoofsteps as the two pegasi approached the grand foyer.

The rooms they passed on either side were barren, devoid of value and purpose. Priceless artifacts had been taken and delivered to Altus, although Hurricane knew that they’d be left behind in the end. Wood and metal had been scavenged throughout the palace to be used to form barricades and weaponry. The library had been dissected by numerous servants tasked with preserving Cirran knowledge and history, and they had left the books and scrolls deemed unimportant in a central pile that covered two tables. Paintings of mighty Cirran emperors had been cut from their frames and rolled up to be taken to new lands. The palace had been turned into a museum of antiquity, holding those things that a generation had forgotten in a mad race for survival.

Arriving in the foyer, Hurricane was greeted by the top commanders of the Praetorian Guard. Commander Gold Moon approached him first, saluting and opening a scroll for the Emperor to read. Hurricane took the scroll and spread it on the ground before rolling it back up and returning it to the officer.

“The cohorts have been divided up and given their assignments. The most experienced units have been placed along the eastern walls, with ranks of less equipped units arranged in lines behind them.” Gold Moon signaled to two of his subordinates, and the messengers flew away to ready the soldiers. “We designed for maximum delay to give our civilians time to escape from Altus.”

Hurricane nodded and touched Gold Moon’s shoulder. “Excellent, Commander, well done. Have the cohorts aware that they should fall back when they become overwhelmed and let the next line take their place. Hopefully by alternating who is engaged and who is recovering we can buy time at the cost of ground.”

Gold Moon nodded. “Already accounted for, sir. Our soldiers have been working all night to fortify every building between the eastern walls and the palace. I imagine Magnus is going to want to be sure of his victory and fight his way up building by building rather than leaping for the decisive blow.”

“Agreed. This is all just a game to him, and he knows he’s winning, so he wants to savor the victory. He expects us to defend this city with everything we’ve got, when instead we’re getting as many civilians as we can out of here. Although Stratopolis will fall, we will sour his conquest with our survival.”

“Indeed.” The aged commander looked to the distant horizon, waiting for the sun to come up and the hordes it would raise with its appearance. “It’s been an honor fighting with you, sir. May the Gods welcome us as heroes in the coming hours.”

Hurricane touched Gold Moon’s wing with his own. “Likewise, Commander. Just don’t be so eager to claim your reward in the Great Skies that you’re out of the fight before it gets good. We’ll need your tactical eye and authority if we’re going to make the bastards pay for Stratopolis.”

A hollow laugh brought a small smile to Gold Moon’s lips. “Noted, sir.” A small ray of light pierced through the morning clouds and haze to perfectly strike the commander in the eye. Turning, he raised a hoof towards the rising sun. “This will be it. I better go tend to the soldiers.” His eyes flicked to Hurricane. “Will I see you on the front lines, sir?”

A determined grin revealed Hurricane’s teeth. “You can count on it.”

“Good to hear.” Giving one last salute, Gold Moon spread his wings and took to the skies, taking the rest of the Praetorian Guard with him. Hurricane and Silver Sword were left by themselves on the mighty stairs that led down to the city below.

“Shall we inspect the troops?” Hurricane asked as he rose into the air. Silver Sword grunted his approval, and together the two of them flew towards town square, where the regiments were forming up.

Gold Moon was not kidding when he said that they had fortified nearly half of the city. Planks of wood covered the windows to abandoned houses, and piles of crushed cloudstone rubble lay against locked doors. The only access points to these houses were through the chimneys or balconies, which would force griffons to transition from flying to fighting in an extremely confined space. Assuming the pegasi would be able to fall back quick enough to make use of the fortifications, Magnus would have to pay a heavy price to push his way through the city.

The ugly side of the Legion’s fortifications was that they had driven the remaining elders who were too old to make the trip to Altus or simply had refused to leave their homes out onto the streets. Small clusters of senior pegasi wandered the cloudstone roads and alleys, having their homes and possessions stripped from them by their own government. Although Hurricane felt for them, there was nothing he could do to help. The Legion needed everything it could get to prolong its survival, and in a short while, those elders would be felled by Gryphon steel. It was a morbid and uncomfortable thought for the young emperor, but that did not make it any less true.

The Plaza of the Emperor had been turned into a sprawling campsite for the fifteen thousand Cirrans who would give their lives to defend it. The massive clearing was filled to the brim with temporary shelters, with some of the haphazard canvas structures spilling out into the streets. However, a respectful clearing around the statue of Roamulus had been maintained despite this.

The bustle of last minute preparations pervaded every inch of the campsite as ponies rushed back and forth between their tents, the rations table, and their officers. The pleasant smell of meat and charred plants filled the air as the volunteers ate their final meal. Hurricane had ordered the last of Stratopolis’ food reserves be emptied for the soldiers, and so they dined on a feast of a breakfast before they would lose it to Griffon blades. The morale boost was most certainly a positive thing to the defenders.

Hurricane and Silver Sword landed at one end of the camp and began to walk through it in a wide arc, hoping to show themselves to as many of the volunteers as possible. The outer edges of the camp were home almost exclusively to the volunteers, and many lounged under their tents or conversed with their neighbors. The defenders covered a healthy span of young and old, stallions and mares, of all sorts of colors and sizes. It seemed to Hurricane that they were a more personable sort of Legion as opposed to the emotionless Cirrans the military trained its soldiers to be. Personable or not, however, they still had to be able to put up a fight if they were going to be useful.

The Legion had run out of swords and armor to equip the bulk of the volunteers, so many had simply brought whatever tools or objects they could use to defend themselves. All sorts of weaponry from axes to cutting knives were holstered in makeshift leather scabbards along the flanks of the civilians. Rough plates of scrap iron or wood served as armor for those who could find it. Hurricane even saw a blacksmith sharpening his tongs over a roaring fire, the ends glowing a deadly shade of orange.

Wherever the Emperor and the Imperator ventured, ponies stopped the tasks they were doing and looked on. The discomfort or uneasiness mixed with copious amounts of awe slowed their hooves and caused them to regard their leaders with mystical wonder. Deciding that it would be better if they lent a hoof and regarded the volunteers as equals rather than officers and subordinates, Silver and Hurricane pitched in with the mundane tasks wherever they could. Such tasks involved the moving of debris from one fortification to another, the distribution of food and weaponry, and the ordering of troops between sectors. They maintained an open and friendly atmosphere, and soon enough civilians were coming to speak directly to them.

“Sirs!” a young stallion shouted from across the street. Hurricane and Silver Sword waited as the pegasus approached, clutching a collection of cloth strips between his jaws. The saddlebags against his flanks were filled with bottles of lantern oil, some of them with cloth sticking out of their tops.

“Morning, citizen,” Silver Sword began politely. “What is it that you need?”

The stallion set down the cloths he was carrying. “Nothing that I need, sir. Just something I would like to share with you.” Reaching into a bag, he pulled out a jar of lantern oil and set it in front of the two leaders.

Hurricane picked up the jar and examined it. “Lantern oil. Is there anything special about it?” Not seeing the point, he gave the bottle back to the stallion.

The Emperor’s lack of enthusiasm did little to slow the young pegasus. “Not in material, sir, but in form. I spent the last night gathering up whatever lantern oil I could find because I discovered something.” Grabbing a wooden splint out of his bags, he struck it against his hoof and ignited it. Transferring the flame to the end of the cloth in the bottle, he carefully balanced it between two hooves. “Observe!”

He barely gave the pegasi near his target enough of a warning to avoid harm. Tossing the bottle against the side of a building, the stallion watched as his invention slammed into its pearly white surface. The lantern oil exploded on impact, being ignited by the flame from the cloth and expanding into a deadly wall of fire. Hurricane took a step back as a wave of hot air pushed aside the chilly winds for a second.

“Well? What do you think?” The stallion was brimming with excitement, and his wings fluttered expectantly. Hurricane looked again at the bottles he had carried with him. It was a simple design, but very effective.

“That was… excellent.” Hurricane answered. “These will be a big help to us in the fight. How many do you have with you?”

The stallion’s ears lowered a degree when he looked at his bag. “I’d only say about fifteen or sixteen. I didn’t have enough time to make more, or I would have. Like I said, I only discovered this last night.”

Hurricane gave the stallion an approving pat on the back. “Well, we’ll make do with what you’ve got. Distribute the bottles to the officers and explain how to use them. They’ll know best when to deploy this weapon.” The stallion’s ears perked with pride and he made to take off. Silver Sword stopped him, however.

“Hey, you think you could leave one for me? I’d like to start a griffon roast of my own if I get the chance.” The young inventor nodded and set a bottle onto the ground before flying off to deliver the rest of his cargo.

Hurricane held the bottle up to his face as he observed it again. “Pretty impressive, huh?” Smirking to himself, he set the lantern oil back on the ground in front of Silver Sword.

The steel pegasus whistled as he watched the still-burning brick of the building. “That’ll give the griffons a nasty surprise, I reckon. Think we’ll be able to peg Magnus with one of those?”

“If we ever see him, I’m willing to give it a try. Come on, we better get to the walls. The attack will begin soon.” Hurricane lifted off of the ground and began to fly towards the rising sun. Silver Sword paused to collect the bottle left behind for him before flying after the black stallion, overtaking him about halfway to the eastern fortifications.

The bricks of the walls were cold when they set their hooves down, but already the temperature of the white surface was escalating with the sun. The winds were howling over the ramparts, and Hurricane had to lower his ears against the shrill cold. Still, with a face carved from the same expressionless stone that had built the imperial palace, Hurricane looked over the lake below Stratopolis to the distant shoreline and waited.

Thin clouds drifted across the sky, sailing either above or below the massive pegasus city. Hurricane spread his wings to test the air currents sailing over the walls and into Stratopolis. The air pushed through his feathers, generating crisp yet firm pressure on his wings. Today would have made a good day for stunt flying.

Suddenly, the two thousand soldiers on either side of Hurricane tensed and lowered their spears with the first signs of activity along the distant shoreline. Sure enough, thousands and thousands of black specks were rising through the cloud layer, taking the time to assemble into pristine military formation before beginning a charge towards the walls. Gold Moon caught Hurricane’s eye from farther down the wall. The two pegasi nodded, and Hurricane rose into the air to address his troops.

“Cirrans! The decisive moment is upon us! Today we join our ancestors in the Great Skies, but not before we drench the clouds with Gryphon blood! Let your hearts be strong, your resolve unshakeable, your wings steady and your swords swift! The future generations will look upon this moment with wonder and awe, and know that we, the few, stood and died so that Cirra could live! Make yourselves proud! Make each other proud! Be brave, for the Gods smile upon us! For the Empire!”

The roars from the throats of thousands of Cirrans answered Hurricane. Lowering themselves against their spears, the front line of Stratopolis’ final defense braced itself against the griffon charge. Behind them, two thousand Legionnaires assembled to provide top cover for the spearponies, their bladed wings glinting in the morning light.

If the shouting from the Cirrans was mighty, it was thundered down with the demonic shrieking of thousands of birds of prey. Magnus had thrown everything he had into the assault, and the defenders along the walls were outnumbered ten to one. All the Gryphon blades had been sharpened, and the gleaming of thousands and thousands of steel weapons advanced against the pegasi and their iron swords.

Hurricane spun on his hooves and addressed the platoons of pegasi sitting in the guard towers along the length of the walls. “Archers, on my signal!” He could see the tower walls instantly bristle with hundreds of arrows and the archers drew their bows. Since the wind was blowing in their faces, their range was shorter than what Hurricane would have wished for. He had to wait until the first wave of griffon soldiers was uncomfortably close before he gave the command.

“FIRE!!”

A momentary dimming of light fell over Hurricane as a cloud of arrows rocketed towards the griffon advance. One advantage of the range that they had fired in was that the horde had little time to adjust its course to avoid the incoming volley. The griffon war cries turned to screams of pain as large bodies fell out of the air. Their steel armor deflected glancing shots, but the arrows that flew true and struck necks or wings sent their targets tumbling out of the skies. Already the first precipitation of blood was falling into the lake below.

“Reload and fire at will!” Hurricane shouted as the archers knocked their next arrows. Gripping his sword between his teeth and spreading his stance wide, he prepared for the incoming wave of griffons. Silver Sword assumed a similar position next to him, and the two Cirrans nodded in unison. Let the griffon hordes throw themselves at the Cirran walls, and see how many fall!

The second volley of arrows was released immediately before the griffons struck Cirra’s line. Griffon bodies were sent tumbling over the walls, the blood spraying along the shafts of arrows lodged in their necks or skulls. It was a forty foot drop from the wall to the city streets below, guaranteed deadly for a griffon without any flight control. Several dead or dying bodies collided with pegasi along the walls, knocking them off balance or onto their backs. Hurricane had to sidestep a flailing griffon as it tugged at the arrow in its shoulder before it screamed in terror as it fell to its death.

The first of the Gryphon regulars were already on the walls, throwing themselves against the line of spears that stood erect in the assault. It was a suicidal notion as hundreds of griffons impaled themselves on the spearheads, but it served its purpose. By sticking their bodies onto the points of the spears, the long weapons were rendered useless and forced their wielders to discard them in exchange for swords before the next rank of griffons approached. What manner of zealotry Magnus had stirred up to rally a suicidal force of such readiness, Hurricane would never know.

With the fury of an emperor wronged, Hurricane charged at the first griffon to challenge him on the walls. The adrenaline pumping through Hurricane’s blood was laced with the flavor of vengeance, guiding his motions and empowering his limbs with a quickness he had never before experienced. Every griffon throat slit would be a point for Cirra; every bastard disemboweled would be another body to pay for those taken from him. Swords would slice, heads would roll, and feathers would fly, and not until Hurricane had toppled a horde with his blades and hooves would he ever consider the score settled.

The griffon soldier was unprepared to face down an attack of such might. Losing its initiative, the beast had to block a slash from Hurricane’s sword and then two jabs from his wings. The pegasus never stopped moving forward, pushing his opponent back until it ran into the wall behind it. The sudden appearance of cloudstone behind its back unsettled the griffon, and before it could adjust its position Hurricane had already split its neck. The body crumpled to the floor, blood turning its white neck feathers red.

There was little respite for the Emperor, for no sooner had he dispatched his first assailant was he attacked from above. Pressing his body flat against the cloudstone top of the walls, Hurricane felt two sets of talons slice through the air above his body. The griffon yelled in frustration and attempted to kick Hurricane with its powerful feline legs, but Hurricane was too fast for such crude attacks. Spiraling up and to the side, he managed to wrap a foreleg around the griffon’s paw and drag it to the ground. Screaming again, the hybrid delivered a solid kick to Hurricane’s nose, but the claws failed to meet skin. Standing up from under the extended leg, Hurricane jammed his sword into the abdomen of the griffon warrior, directly below the ribcage where the armor ceased to protect. Failing to die at the first stab, the soldier swung its clawed hands at Hurricane, which the black pegasus avoided easily. Withdrawing his sword, he stabbed the creature twice again in the chest to neutralize it and once in the neck to silence it. The sticky scent of blood clung to his nostrils but was barely acknowledged by the mighty Cirran. He had fought in too many battles and slain too many griffons to be disturbed by the taste of foreign blood.

Silver Sword was in the process of mopping up his opposition when Hurricane turned back. Spinning wide right of a griffon’s frustrated sword swing, he gripped onto a brown wing and yanked the beast to the ground. The griffon turned and used its heavier weight to try and throw Silver into the air, but the steel Imperator adjusted his grip to grapple with the soldier’s neck. Using the momentum that the Gryphon had supplied him, Silver let the weight of his armor bend the griffon’s neck backwards against the movement of its spine. There was an audible crack and a set of talons clutched desperately at the air before the body fell to the ground, unmoving.

The rest of the wall was not sharing in Hurricane and Silver Sword’s success. The defense had broken down into scattered pockets of the finest soldiers trying to fend off swarms of griffons assailing them from all sides. The Praetorian Guard had lost only a hoofful of pegasi, and they were attempting to compensate for the collapsing front of the rest of the Legion by spreading out. Hurricane was able to catch a glimpse of Gold Moon dancing around two large griffons, turning their clumsy blows into painful mistakes. It was comforting for Hurricane to know that the Guard’s most experienced commander was still one of the best on the battlefield despite his wing injury.

A quiver of arrows and a bow clattered against the ground next to Hurricane. Looking up, he saw the guard towers under siege by a platoon of Gryphon regulars. The fractured remains of Cirra’s assigned air support flew to the towers to try and relieve the pressure, but it was too late. Well over half of Hurricane’s archers soon lay dead, with small rivulets of blood running off of the roofs. With the next wave rapidly approaching the crumbling defense, Hurricane was left with little choice but to proceed to the next stage of the plan.

“Legionaries, fall back! Get those volunteers up here, now!” Sliding under a brown blur of a griffon, Hurricane leapt off of the walls, dozens of legionaries following him. He let the whistle of wind flowing past his ears satisfy him for a brief second before snapping out his wings and landing on the rooftop of one of the nearby houses. He ducked under the bodies of Cirran volunteers emerging from behind the buildings, knocking cloudstone tiles off of the roof as he did so. Silver Sword slammed onto the roof next to him, cracking several shingles as he secured his footing.

Hurricane and Silver watched in remote horror as the volunteers flung themselves at the griffon advance while the actual soldiers escaped to set up the next line of defense. He couldn’t deny their resolve and the ferocity with which they attacked the griffons, but the lack of training was evident. If they were lucky, a volunteer would manage to wound or kill a griffon before being stabbed from behind or simply overwhelmed. The large majority of the civilians were sliced and gutted before they could even ruffle a regular’s feathers.

“They’re getting ripped apart out there!” Silver exclaimed. Hurricane nodded his agreement.

“I know! But once the Legion’s done, the city will fall in a matter of minutes! We have to prolong the collapse as long as possible, even if it means sacrificing the volunteers!” Seeing the next line of the Legion settle itself in the defensive barriers around the houses, Hurricane nodded to Silver Sword. The steel pegasus took a horn out of his bags and blew into it, signaling the surviving volunteers to fall back and prepare for the next retreat. As the haggard and bloody survivors of the civilian group made their way back to the Plaza, new regiments of legionaries took their place in the skies almost seamlessly.

One of the civilians, a large stallion wielding a woodcutter’s axe, thundered onto the roof next to Hurricane. Pieces of griffon intestine were draped over his shoulders and neck, the blood almost invisible against his scarlet coat. Whether they were placed there intentionally or inadvertently Hurricane could only guess.

“Ha ha! The feathery bastards don’t know what hit ‘em! Get me back up to the front when you’re ready for round two, sir! I got a few more logs to split!!” With that, the woodcutter grabbed his bloody axe between his jaws and flew away to the statue of Roamulus. Hurricane and Silver exchanged a confused look, unsure of what had just transpired. The time for reflection was cut short with the arrival of the next wave of griffons.

Hurricane strained to make his voice audible over the screams of death and war. “Archers, fire at will! Fall back if you get overrun, ‘cause we’ll sure as hell need you later!” There were faint flashes of acknowledgement from the archers nearest him as they began to release volleys of arrows, and Hurricane could only hope that the message would spread to the rest of his ranged units.

Shattering tiles under their massive paws, Gryphon regulars began to engage the pegasi scattered across the roofs. Hurricane tried to press the griffons away from his rooftop by rushing them before they could land, but several of the beasts managed to get around his and Silver Sword’s offense. Forced to combat on the slippery cloudstone tiling, Hurricane rushed to get to the peak of the sloped roof before his opponent.

Nearly tripping over his hooves as he crested the tiling, Hurricane threw his body weight into his sword lunge. The griffon managed to block his blade with one hand and used the other to grab onto his wing. Hurricane allowed his body to twist with the direction that the griffon was wrenching his wing arm in so that it wouldn’t break, attempting to strike his opponent in the face with his blade as he passed. The beast easily leaned out of the attack and threw Hurricane towards the edge of the rooftop.

It took Hurricane an uncomfortable second to right himself, using his wings and his forehooves to keep himself from falling off of the roof. Sensing an opportunity, he feigned a struggle to lift his body back onto the cloudstone tiling. The griffon took the bait, rushing forward to drive his sword into Hurricane’s face.

The Emperor didn’t give him a chance. With a sudden burst of speed, Hurricane rocketed straight into the air, smashing a hoof into the griffon’s beak as he passed. The stunned creature blundered across the rooftop as it struggled to focus, giving Hurricane enough time to change his direction and drive at its head. With a solid, resounding crack, the black pegasus smashed the griffon’s skull into and through the cloudstone roofing, ignoring the blood and brain that spattered his forelegs. With a quick shake, the offending organs were flung away, and Hurricane rushed to provide Silver Sword with assistance.

The steel pegasus was holding his own against two of the beasts, diving underneath attacks and delivering blows to unprotected areas. Despite his agility, he could not gain the momentum he needed to drive his blade through the griffons’ steel armor. Before he could complete a swing, he would have to roll to the side to avoid a stab from a hooked beak or the slice of steel weapons.

His hooves drumming across the tile roof, Hurricane tackled the larger of the two griffons. Their bodies tumbled towards the edge of the house as they swung their limbs at each other while struggling to hold on. Hurricane flipped onto his back as he approached the edge of the roof, using his hind legs to slow himself. The griffon screeched as it slid off of the side of the building, and Hurricane knew he couldn’t let it get away. Raising his legs away from the roofing, he used his wings to launch himself off of the edge.

He caught the griffon just as it was about to right itself. Shouting past the sword clenched in his jaws, Hurricane wrapped his legs around the griffon’s wing. It was only a three story drop, offering a small margin for error. Grappling with his opponent, Hurricane managed to pull open a wing to flip the griffon underneath him as they approached the ground.

There was a sickening crack of cloudstone as well over two hundred pounds of bone and steel smashed into the street. Hurricane felt the vibrations travel through the tips of his body, from his tail to his jaw. Taking a moment to collect his breath, he managed to rise upon shaky hooves.

The griffon soldier was much worse off. Its tongue hung out of the side of its open beak, and its dazed expression failed to focus on anything. Whispering breaths of pain escaped from its crushed body, and the tips of its wings twitched. Picking his blade up from the street, Hurricane mercifully ended the soldier’s life.

There was a grunt from above, and another griffon body fell off of the roof. The hulking mass nearly crushed Hurricane, and only a quick backstroke of his wings saved him. Frowning, Hurricane stared daggers at the pegasus on top of the house.

“Heh heh… fore?” Silver Sword rubbed the back of his helmeted head awkwardly, grinning at Hurricane from his perch. Hurricane returned his sword to its scabbard just as more griffons began slicing over the rooftops.

“Silver, we have to get inside! The skies are swarming with the bastards, they’ll cut us down if we stay out here much longer!” Using his powerful wings, Hurricane made for the nearest open balcony with Silver Sword right on his tail. Immediately upon entering the house, however, a sword swung from around the corner to greet him.

The blade was fast, but Hurricane was faster. Using his already extended wing, he caught the sword between two scales of his wing blades. The resounding ring of metal filled the room, accompanied by a lighter chime as the tip of the sword briefly contacted the wreath Hurricane wore over his head. Taking no notice to his near death, the black pegasus lowered his shoulder to disarm his opponent and swung a bladed wing in the direction of the attack.

Equine eyes met each other, and Hurricane managed to angle his wing away from the legionary's face and into the wall above it. The blade left a deep notch in the cloudstone, which took Hurricane a second to struggle free from. When he finally did, he turned and glowered at the soldiers in the room.

“Check before you swing, damn it! If I had been any slower, you would have ended up killing your emperor!” Pointing a hoof at a centurion leaning out from behind a corner, Hurricane spat furiously: “You! You should be the one in the open here, guiding your soldiers as enemies try to get their way in! Griffons don’t use bows up close, so the only thing you’d have to worry about is making sure your soldiers cut them down as they enter before they can get to you!” The centurion nodded, and Hurricane watched him walk into his prescribed position.

A chorus of cries detached itself from the main body of screaming, and Silver leaned his head out of the doorframe before rushing in. “Griffons incoming! Everypony, get ready!” Coming to a stop by Hurricane’s side along the edge of the room, Silver drew his namesake weapon and readied himself. The soldiers on either side of the doorframe leading out onto the balcony slunk back against the walls, the tips of their swords twitching as they awaited the order to swing.

The first of the griffons landed on the balcony, their armor already covered in pegasus blood and feathers. Sighting the centurion in the back of the room, the beasts began to sprint towards what they thought was cornered prey. They were soon proven wrong when at the soldier’s signal, pairs of blades swung around the corners and dropped the first two hybrids. The legionaries’ slices had been too low and crashed off of steel armor, winding the griffons but not killing them. Before they could finish their opponents, additional griffon forces barged their way into the room and began to engage the Cirrans inside.

The sickening humidity of sprayed blood stained the walls as the room became congested with fighting and dying bodies. There was hardly enough room for Hurricane to tangle with his opponent, although the larger griffon was even more handicapped by the proximity. Both combatants realized it was nearly impossible to find the space for a powerful sword swing, and their fight devolved into a series of short stabs and jumps to make the most of their tight space. The griffon was extremely fond of using its beak, a powerful short range attack that Hurricane had no counter for. The most he could do was sidestep it and swing a wing at the foe, but without the space to build up momentum his strikes were useless against its armor.

Sensing that the room began to open up as more bodies hit the floor, Hurricane took the chance to backflip away from the griffon as it jabbed at him again with its beak. The arrangement of soldiers in the building had shifted, with the griffons now occupying the back of the room and the Cirrans being forced off of the balcony. Then he saw the centurion fooling with a bottle of oil, striking his wing blades against the cloudstone to produce a spark.

“Out! Out! Get out now!” Hurricane screamed to the building. Silver Sword was at his side in an instant, not taking the time to question his friend’s orders. Legionaries fast enough to respond to Hurricane’s order dove off the side of the balcony, while the others insisted on fighting their way out. The griffons inside the building were struck with a moment of confusion as their hated foes withdrew without warning, but only a moment. A single glass bottle with a flame at the mouth was lobbed into the room, shattering amongst the Gryphon soldiers.

The screams were collective, agonized, and above all, unbearably loud. In a mere second, the far wall was engulfed in an inferno of oil and fire. The griffons and unlucky pegasi who were too slow to escape were consumed in brilliant light, their screams drowned in the crackling of the flames. The odor of burnt feathers and fur caused Hurricane to throw a wing over his face as he gagged. Silver Sword and the centurion both shielded their faces from the blast of heat as the blaze inside devoured all.

Despite Hurricane’s anger with the centurion for callously wasting the lives of two of his soldiers, he recognized the need for action over words. Similar flames were emerging from some of the other larger houses, and legionaries began withdrawing back to the Plaza. Seeing his second line collapse as anticipated, Hurricane rose into the air and whistled for the volunteers to once again provide their screen. The ferocity and willingness to face death still existed in the same magnitude as before, but in a sizably smaller capacity. More than half of the volunteers had gone down in the first screen; it was likely that the remaining survivors would fall with the second.

They had a minute at the most to fortify whatever they could in the open plaza. Legionaries from all over the eastern edge of the city were filing back to the square, along with the soldiers defending the northern and southern walls. The griffon advance had finally begun to flank the defenders, squeezing them into a smaller and smaller space in a three pronged attack. Centuries dove out of the skies at adrenaline-fueled speeds, their centurions claiming spots of open street and rallying their troops around them. Spears and javelins were quickly passed around with a rising sense of urgency. What few archers remained, numbering no more than twenty at this point, congregated on the roof of a tall building adjacent to the square. With breathless precision, the final volleys were fitted to their strings.

All the while, Hurricane flitted to and fro across the plaza, making sure his units were ready. This would be the biggest bloodbath in the entire assault, with ten thousand pegasi trying to hold off well over a hundred-thousand griffons. The majority of the Legion would fall in the next few minutes, and what few survivors there were would retreat within the palace walls and await their demise. Hurricane knew that if he survived the next fight, there would be one griffon in particular waiting to drive a gold sword through his chest.

The volunteer screen fell apart into nothingness in a matter of seconds, and the few remaining survivors recognized the uselessness of continued struggle and quickly dove back to the plaza. From there they joined ranks with several centuries and turned their bloody weapons to the skies, awaiting the strike of the hammer that was the Gryphon Horde upon their scarred heads. Hurricane, Silver Sword, and the Praetorian Guard took to the air to provide whatever support they could for the bloodbath about to unfold below.

Stratopolis was filled with the howling and shrieking of birds of prey descending upon their next meal. Innumerous brown bodies dive-bombed the Cirran defenders below, quickly congesting the plaza with all manner of fighting. The statue of Roamulus stood tall in the center of it all, a proud monument asking every Cirran to bring forth their finest and drive their opponents to the grave. His bronzen sides were soon coated in crimson vitality as death reigned supreme around him.

Hurricane had led the Praetorian into a desperate charge against the descending griffon masses and now found himself surrounded and attacked by the flying beasts wherever he looked. He and Silver Sword flew close together, the steel pegasus shadowing Hurricane’s agile movements as they searched for vulnerable targets. Griffons were easy enough to come by in the massive aerial fight, but slowing and fighting stronger targets while outnumbered spelled death in a matter of seconds. The most they could hope to do was dive a griffon and take out its wings without slowing themselves down, allowing them to avoid the attacks of their slower opponents.

The blades along Hurricane’s wings had long since turned from gold to scarlet, and the sticky vitality clung to his feathers and hampered his movements. A few vigorous shakes of his wings momentarily parted the primaries, but with more kills and the addition of fresh blood they only continued to grow in uselessness. After circling the skies for five minutes and taking down a half dozen griffons, Hurricane was straining to keep up his agility.

He paid for it when he felt a claw grab onto his leg and pull him down. Silver Sword yelped in alarm and dove to try and help Hurricane, but the griffon accelerated away from him and increased its velocity towards the ground. Struggling to break free of its grasp, Hurricane kicked and flailed his wings at his assailant, but the Gryphon always remained slightly out of reach. As the cloudstone streets approached with frightening speed, Hurricane braced himself for impact.

The collision with the ground was harsh and slammed the air from his lungs. The world spun before Hurricane’s eyes, and it took his head smacking against the street again for him to realize that it wasn’t just because of dizziness. Tumbling head over hooves, the Emperor came to rest in an alleyway, his back knocking over several discarded buckets of rubbish. There was incredible pain in his right foreleg, and he yelped when he attempted to put weight on the limb. A quick examination revealed that an extra joint had been added to his upper leg in the form of a broken bone.

Hurricane’s sword and one of his wing blades lay in the middle of the alleyway, their bloody surfaces covered in grime and refuse. Every hobbled step towards them sent spears of pain through his body, and he did his best to raise his foreleg off of the ground and minimize the agony. The best he could do was dangle the limb a few inches above the ground as a result of the high fracture and fight through the pain.

And fight would be what he had to do. Not a moment after he had grabbed his sword did griffons begin to spill over into the alley from the square. Gripping the hilt between his teeth, Hurricane slowly backpedaled as they advanced. His eyes were searching the skies for any sign of Silver Sword, but the steel pegasus was nowhere to be found. It looked like he would have to fight off the five griffons before him without a wing blade and down one limb. He just hoped he could keep his balance on three.

The predatory nature of the griffons sensed that they had cornered injured prey, and they were content to advance at the pace of Hurricane’s retreat. Their gleaming eyes watched his limbs; the ears their feathers concealed listened to the coarseness of his breath; their tongues flickered under their beaks in anticipation of fresh blood. Hurricane dared not blink and dared not stop moving, lest they pounce on him. It was when his rear hooves clicked against the side of a building did he cringe under their advance.

“Hey, featherbrains!” The griffons’ attention was diverted from Hurricane to a diving steel pegasus for just a moment, but a moment was all Hurricane needed. Planting his rear hooves against the side of the building, the stallion bucked with all his might and propelled himself at the lead griffon with blistering speed. The two figures bowled through the other four hybrids as they rolled down the alley, and Silver Sword slammed down from the sky to crush the neck of one as a hammer would strike a nail. Two of the griffons immediately recovered and began to engage him, while the third followed Hurricane and the lead griffon as they finally separated from their tumble.

Pain and red. Hurricane came up screaming, clutching at his broken foreleg. His vision was a strained and bloody crimson, and he failed to get onto his hooves after attempting to stand, twice. The griffons were closing in on him; he could hear their breathing, sense the approaching of razor beaks that thirsted for blood. They would be on him in a second, and he needed to be ready.

Finally summoning the strength to stand, Hurricane rose to his hooves with a grunt and a scream. The first griffon had already left the ground, his outstretched talons aimed directly at Hurricane’s throat. The pegasus clamped his jaws around the hilt of his sword and swung, not caring where he hit, so long as he stopped the griffon in its tracks. His eyes were clenched shut through the pain, but so were his teeth, and the agony was transitioned into force along the glistening blade.

The shock of the sword coming into contact with metal vibrated through Hurricane’s sore teeth, and he drew his lips back away from the shaking blade as it continued to slice through his opponent. Steel, feathers, flesh, sinew, and bone were all ripped asunder in the powerful strike. A long, pain-laden scream sounded less than a foot away from Hurricane’s ear. Then the weight on his sword was released, and the remaining momentum nearly toppled the injured pegasus.

When he opened his eyes again, the griffon’s body had been very neatly cleaved apart. Hurricane’s blade had entered through the steel plating around its neck and exited out through the opposite shoulder. The griffon lay in two pieces by Hurricane’s hooves, the blood staining the three in contact with the ground red. Another strike of pain wracked his body, and he ended up collapsing onto his side just as the second griffon approached.

The beast thundered onto Hurricane’s side, placing a scaly hand over his neck. Its talons dug deep into flesh, drawing blood from either side as it strangled him. Hurricane tried pushing off with his wings and left foreleg, but the griffon grabbed his right leg and twisted. The stallion’s efforts were completely drained as the pain left his body in the form of a choking shout. His lungs were burning, and his eyes focused helplessly on the griffon crushing his life away from him.

A flash of recognition lighted in the pegasus’ eyes. To him, most griffons had seemed alike, but this face was incredibly familiar to him. Broken thoughts tried to put themselves together in Hurricane’s oxygen-deprived mind, and the visage of a burning city came back to him. A life spared in the dead of night over the burning ruins of a Gryphon metropolis. Just a terrified kid, dragged to fight a war his country started.

The grip on Hurricane’s neck loosened, and the griffon backed away slowly. The strangled pegasus took the opportunity to shuffle back two paces and recover his breath, watching the familiar face study him intently. Understanding at its most basic level passed between them. The maxim ‘a life for a life’ has commonly been coupled with death, but it carries equal meaning in mercy. And so it was in the burning city of Stratopolis as the griffon flew away to find different victims.

His meditation on philosophy was interrupted by a cry of fear and despair. Somehow finding the balance to get to his hooves, Hurricane hobbled back down the alleyway to where Silver had been fighting. As he pierced through the shadows, the eviscerated body of a griffon greeted him, a sword still lodged in its chest. Grabbing Silver’s weapon, Hurricane rounded the corner to where he heard his friend shouting.

The Imperator was pinned beneath the weight of his remaining assailant, pushing desperately with his hooves to try and shake the figure sitting on his back. The griffon had grabbed one of Silver’s wings between its scaly hands and was occupied with stretching the arm to its breaking point. The wails of pain easily eclipsed whatever pain Hurricane had felt when he broke his leg, and with good reason. A pegasus used his wings for sensing the air currents, temperature, and all manner of weather, and as such they were the most sensitive limbs on his body. For one to be stretched and twisted in such a way would induce crippling pain that would cause many strong pegasi to black out.

“Silver!” Hurricane’s hobble turned into a loping gallop as he rushed the griffon, trying to ignore the pain in his own leg. Silver’s weapon was clenched firmly in his teeth, and he quickly drove the blade into the griffon’s neck. The beast gasped around the intrusion through its windpipe as it died, but that didn’t stop Hurricane’s savage redemption. He withdrew the sword and stabbed the griffon again. And again. And again. Only until its blood had been sufficiently pooled around it did Hurricane consider the griffon’s brutality equally repaid.

“Silver! Silver Sword, are you alright?!” Hurricane abandoned Silver’s weapon next to the griffon corpse and knelt down next to his friend. The steel pegasus was writhing in agony, gripping the base of his wing with his forehooves. The wing arm had been snapped in two, and tears of pain fell along Silver’s cheeks. Hurricane could feel a shadow of the pain in his own undamaged wings simply because of the magnitude of agony it was causing Silver.

“Hold still, Silver. I’m going to bandage it.” Reaching into his saddlebag, Hurricane pulled out the red Imperial cape that he had folded up and stored before the battle. Placing the cloak on the ground, Hurricane grabbed a corner between his teeth and pulled. The fabric ripped apart easily, and Hurricane fashioned a sling for Silver to rest his wing in. Gently twisting the wing into a folded shape, the black pegasus managed to secure Silver’s wing against his side. The Imperator lay on his side and whimpered in pain while Hurricane took the time to fashion a sling for his own broken limb.

After both pegasi were sufficiently bandaged, Hurricane nudged Silver to his hooves. The steel pegasus reluctantly complied, his weak whimpering roughened up into short grunts of pain through clenched teeth. He took the time to retrieve his sword from the body of the griffon and sheathe it, and then together they leaned on each other and walked out of the alley.

They were greeted by a very gruesome sight. They had landed in an alleyway near the staircase that led up to the palace, and with no small amount of luck they happened to be on the side of the square still controlled by the remnants of the Legion. The price both sides had paid for the square was evident even from the ground. Bodies filled the massive plaza by the thousands, and the porous cloudstone had already slightly expanded with the saturation of blood from all the corpses on top of it. The Legion, now numbering no more than a few thousand, was still arranged into a solid line that was steadily retreating up the hill and towards the palace. They were under assault from griffons in the sky, and their numbers were falling at an alarming rate.

A golden pegasus in onyx armor stood not too far away, and Hurricane reached out to touch his shoulder. Commander Gold Moon jumped and spun his wings towards the two pegasi, but stopped well short of their faces when he saw who it was. Instead, he trotted over and offered Hurricane his shoulder to lean upon, which the sweating emperor gladly accepted.

“Commander, we need to fall back to the palace. Get the Guard to cover us while we work our way up the hill. Silver’s grounded and I can hardly walk, so we need time.” Hurricane stumbled over a dead body in his path, and his breath escaped in ragged hisses as his broken leg slammed the ground. Gold Moon bent down and helped him back up, his face full of concern.

“Very well, sir. The Guard has taken heavy casualties in the fighting, but the few of us who are left will keep the griffons off of you. Can you walk on your own?” Gold Moon wasn’t about to leave his emperor in any sort of danger, and it took many vigorous nods and affirmatives from Hurricane to convince the elder stallion that they would be alright. Once he had done so, the officer took to the skies and rallied whatever forces he had left.

In the later years of Hurricane’s life, he would look back on the walk he would come to call ‘The Gauntlet’ with a mix of awe and horror. In the present, however, he knew it simply by one name: hell. The palace stood a full two hundred feet above the city below, and the hundreds of steps were agonizing to walk without any additional handicap. Limping on three limbs and accompanying a delirious pegasus with a shattered wing, the experience was worse than anything Hurricane had ever endured. The signs of battle were all around him, and the thin protection the Praetorian Guard was providing threatened to collapse at any moment. For the first time, Hurricane realized how thirsty he was, as the blood still trickled from the wounds to his neck.

Screams of pain and death, though lesser in number than earlier, were stronger in magnitude with proximity. Praetorians and Gryphon soldiers streaked across the sky in front of him in dangerous games of chase. Bodies and their pieces would fall to the ground around him, sometimes with another living combatant still attached. Pegasi rammed griffon heads into the hillside, splitting their spines with blades and crushing their beaks with hooves. Griffons drove battered pegasi onto their backs after dropping them from several hundred feet up, ripping apart their breastplate and opening up their ribcages while the poor equines flailed in agony, screaming. Gryphon arrows skittered along the ground and impaled themselves in the cloud near Hurricane’s hooves. Blood stained Hurricane’s coat from above, and a Praetorian had tackled and filleted a griffon not more than five feet away. And through all this, the two leaders continued their slow march up the steps, trying to contain their own suffering.

After five minutes of pure torture, Hurricane and Silver Sword crested the palace steps and strode under the colossal doorway into the marble structure. Taking a break to sit down, Hurricane and Silver Sword looked over the remains of their once proud city.

Stratopolis had been reduced to little more than a floating torch in the sky. More than half of the city was ablaze, and the currents created by the fire were slowly forming a convection vortex overhead. The surviving members of the Praetorian Guard began to land and file into the palace while the last shreds of the Legion held off the griffons with everything they had. The remaining military strength of the Empire was probably no more than a thousand soldiers still in Stratopolis.

“Look!” Silver pointed a bloody but alarmed hoof towards the center of town. Hurricane raised a hoof towards his face and squinted. He felt sick to his stomach as he saw what Silver Sword was looking at.

In the very center of town, in the mighty Plaza of the Emperor that the griffons had now taken from Cirra, the statue of Roamulus was leaning. Dozens of ropes were attached to its legs, and a hundred of Magnus’ personal High Guard were working in tandem to bring it down. The groan of straining bronze was audible even from the top of the city. There was a mighty snap as the first of the bronze bolts holding the statue to the cloudstone gave way, followed by three more as the griffons pulled and heaved. Finally, with a crash of metal and a roar of jubilation, the Gryphon invaders toppled the iconic statue of Roamulus and, with it, the last of Cirra’s defense.

There were still a few pegasi circling the air above the palace, and Hurricane shouted at them to land in come within. Many of those nearest to him did, but there were several soldiers that were too far away to make it. One of those was a golden pegasus, trapped between three Gryphon High Guards and fighting for his life.

“Gold Moon!” The Emperor’s desperate shout rang through the air, and the old Praetorian tried to dive between his assailants and retreat back to the palace. When he was only a hundred feet away, he was tackled by two of the griffons and brought to the ground.

Hurricane vaguely remembered shouting something while two Praetorians restrained him from rushing in to help the commander. Gold Moon was pinned against the ground, and a sword was raised into the air to decapitate him.

The golden stallion turned his head towards Hurricane. There was a sad and pained expression on his face, but his eyes had lost none of their signature calm and dignity.

“I’m sorry, sir.” Hurricane could barely read the words on Gold Moon’s lips as he spoke for the last time. Then, with a plunge of finality, the Gryphon steel was driven through his neck, forcing the life out of the stallion’s eyes. Hurricane cursed, then turned back to his soldiers.

“Close the doors,” he growled, and the Guard swung the massive iron doors shut. Then, gesturing to the throne room, Hurricane led the final hundred Cirrans left in the city of Stratopolis into the throne room. The massive oak doors were then shut as well, and Hurricane slowly walked to his throne.

Arriving at the seat of the Cirran emperor, Hurricane traced the contours of the chair. The intricate designs carved into the wood over four hundred years ago were still there, despite centuries of wear. The cushioning was soft, and the back of the chair rose impressively to command the throne room. Massive pillars of marble on either side of the throne held aloft several tons of stone ceiling. And the beautiful stained glass window, decorated with pictures of Cirra’s history, let dim light into the room from its westerly positioning. It was a beautiful room, and Hurricane knew there was no better place to die.

Silver Sword walked next to him and looked through the clear panels of the windows, towards that distant shoreline where the survivors of the war were getting ready to leave. They both thought quietly of friends and family, of those who never had to see the day their empire fell. They thought of death and of the afterlife. Of the ultimate end, the end to all things, the release from pain and suffering.

And it was when the pounding on the outermost iron doors began that Silver Sword turned to Hurricane. They looked each other in the eyes and smiled sad smiles. Twenty years of stories and memories flowed freely between the two friends, of life and death, happiness and hatred, splendor and hardship. They stood together, ready to go to the grave, ready to face down their final foes and go out not with a whimper or a shout, but with the quiet honor that accompanies the mighty and the noble to the afterlife.

Thus it was a surprise to Hurricane when Silver kicked apart the window, smashing a hole in the stained glass just wide enough for a pegasus to fly through. Hurricane looked to the hole and back to Silver, his expression betraying his confusion and bewilderment.

“What is this, Silver?” Hurricane’s voice fluctuated nervously and betrayed the slightest hint of indignation behind it. But both pegasi knew very well what it meant, even if they weren’t ready to accept it.

“Go, Hurricane. There’s no need for you to be here anymore. You’ve done your duty, and now you can go.” Silver Sword sadly gestured to the hole in the window, his good wing flexing ever so slightly.

Hurricane wouldn’t have it. “Silver, I’m the Emperor, not you. And I’ll be damned if I leave this city and those who died for it now. It would be cowardly!”

“There’s no shame in survival, Cane. You know that. I know that. You have the means to find your survival. Me?” he fluttered one wing gently while the other remained unmoving, “My fate is already set into stone. Take this chance, Hurricane. Think of Swift, think of Twister, think of your child!”

“Silver, what about our compact? Hurricane and Silver Sword, together to the end, as comrades, friends,” he gripped Silver’s shoulder and shook it vigorously, “brothers! There is no Hurricane without Silver Sword, and the opposite is true!”

Silver Sword smiled sadly and shook off Hurricane’s hoof. “Hurricane, I want to tell you something. In all these months, you know why I never got a mare? Not because I couldn’t find one, but because I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to have a reason to let you die instead of me. You’ve got Swift, you’ve got a family, Hurricane! Don’t turn your back on them!”

Hurricane’s voice was desperate. “But I’ll be turning my back on you then! I don’t want to leave you to die alone!”

The oak doors to the throne room began to thunder vigorously. The Praetorians in the room tensed up and kept their eyes locked on the door, oblivious to what was transpiring behind them. Silver Sword gripped his blade between his teeth and turned to face the incoming griffons. “Hurricane, just leave now, damn it! This is your last chance to see your family!”

The Emperor’s words did not come immediately, and that was when Silver knew he had succeeded. Hurricane tried to argue further, but Silver Sword wouldn’t let him. Raising his hind legs, he delivered a powerful buck that sent Hurricane crashing through the stained glass and into the sky beyond. He leaned out the window as the black stallion landed on his back outside the palace walls.

“Go, Hurricane! The griffons are breaking in now, so get out of here!” Silver flashed a nervous glance over his shoulder as the shouting from within increased.

Hurricane sat up, cradling his broken leg. A reluctant acceptance had drifted over his face, and he nodded slowly. Rising into the air, he flew up to Silver Sword’s level one last time.

“Thank you, Silver. For everything. For being the friend I needed you to be, for always being there for me. And for being the one to die so I can live.” The two pegasi bumped hooves, and Silver flashed the heartiest smile he could manage.

“You too, Hurricane. You’re going to be a legend someday if you aren’t already. I’m damned proud to have fought alongside you, and to have called you my friend.” A massive crack of wood and the sound of splinters hitting the floor drew Silver’s attention back to the throne room for a second. “Keep Twist in line, and you can tell Swift I won the bet.” His lips curved into a devilish grin, leaving Hurricane confused.

“Bet? What bet?” Hurricane’s hoof slowly withdrew contact from Silver’s as the steel pegasus set his forelegs back within the throne room.

“That I could get you out alive. She didn’t think I could do it, but I did.” The shouting from within escalated, and so did the cries of metal against metal. Silver Sword gave one last look to Hurricane, the desperation filling his eyes. “Now go, Hurricane! There’s no more time to waste!”

Hurricane nodded and began to glide backwards while keeping his eyes locked on his lifelong friend. “I’ll make sure Cirra never forgets you, Silver. May we never forget all who gave their lives here today, and above all, the pegasus of steel, the final defender of Stratopolis.”

One final smile was exchanged between the two stallions. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.” The steel pegasus saluted his friend and emperor, and then vanished into the darkness of the throne room, never to be seen again.

And Hurricane flew as fast as he could out of the ruins of Stratopolis, his wings heavier than they had ever felt in his life.

-----

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Silver said back to his friend, a note of forlorn sadness to his voice. He saluted his friend, an action both regimental and casual in execution. Then he turned away. The griffons had already smashed through the door and were overrunning the last of the Praetorian Guard within the throne room. It was time he lived up to his skill and make the name Silver Sword one that would command awe in the households of Gryphus for years to come!

There were over four hundred griffons in the initial surge into the throne room to attack a hundred Praetorians. Silver Sword grabbed his weapon as he stood in front of the throne. His duties of Imperator demanded he protect the throne, even if the emperor himself was gone. He took the time to observe the craftsmanship of his sword for the first time in a long time. The Praetorian iron was intricately detailed and finer than any steel. Even under the blood, it was a powerful weapon from appearance alone. Too bad it would be lost today.

The Gryphon High Guard was leading the charge into the throne room, and one of its captains spotted Silver Sword. Raising a hand, the beast sped through the center of the room and towards the steel pegasus. It was accompanied by four of its companions, and together they approached the wounded stallion, swords raised over their heads.

Silver Sword waited for them to approach, then cut low under the captain’s strike to use his own blades against it. The griffon tried to ram its spiked shoulders into Silver’s neck, but the steel pegasus was too quick. He caught the spikes with the tip of his sword and began to hammer the bulk of his good wing arm into the griffon’s armpit. Three harsh and powerful strikes in rapid succession, and the captain’s arm was split from its body. The griffon raised his remaining arm and clutched at the spurting shoulder, trying to stem the flow of blood. Silver then directed his sword towards the griffon’s exposed neck and cut its throat.

The expedient and painful demise of the Gryphon captain gave pause to the rest of the soldiers following him. His fur matted with blood and sweat, Silver Sword stepped forward and taunted them. “My name is Imperator Silver Sword, last defender of the Empire! Throw yourselves unto my blade if you seek the same fate as your captain!”

His cocksure attitude only pushed the High Guard into a greater frenzy. Together, they rushed Silver and began to cut at him. The steel pegasus slid in between the attacks, delivering quick and painful blows wherever the opportunity was available. Blades whistled over his head and near his limbs, but nothing could contact the whirling stallion. The first griffon fell with a ravaged scream and a spurt of blood, spraying the combatants with red vitality.

A slash was blocked with a bloody wing blade and countered with a sword. The grating of metal was all Silver needed to know that his sword had pierced steel, and he pulled the weapon back out and swung it behind his head. He managed to catch a griffon blade on the backstroke, and he lowered his neck to disarm the hybrid. Rising onto his front hooves, Silver delivered a powerful buck to the griffon and sent it toppling backwards.

Metal smashed against metal, and Silver Sword was sent tumbling down the steps. The onyx armor stood strong against the griffon steel, but the black surface still carried a dent from the powerful strike. The griffon who delivered the blow hissed at him and lunged off of the elevated platform, its serrated claws extended to cut through his neck. Silver desperately raised his legs to block it, and he kept the griffon mere inches from his body by doing so. He swung his head side to side, smashing his sword across the griffon’s armored helm twice. On the third strike he managed to split its face in two, and the body fell to the side covered in blood.

As more and more Gryphon High Guards threw themselves at Silver Sword and were subsequently felled, one large griffon stood in the back of the room and watched. His gold and amethyst armor glinted in the fires already consuming the palace. The last of the Praetorian Guard had fallen with the exception of the Imperator, and the Gryphon emperor Magnus held the rest of his troops back from joining those already engaging the steel pegasus.

There were a series of snaps as the sheaths to a deadly array of throwing knives were loosened. Taking one from his belt, Magnus watched as it caught the light along its deadly blade. Spinning the weapon around so that he grasped the metal, Magnus raised it over his head and waited. The mass of bodies around Silver Sword shifted and twisted violently as the pegasus and his griffon assailants struggled to move faster and faster. An opening appeared, and faster than one could blink, the blade was loosed from Magnus’ scaly hand towards Silver’s body, propelled by an otherworldly gust of wind that seemed to flurry forth from the griffon's palm.

Silver was in the process of bashing a griffon’s brains across the floor when he felt something hit his side with a solid thunk. The impact drew pause into his actions, and he spared a glance to his side just long enough to see the knife embedded into his flank. The pain came shortly after, but there were more pressing matters to attend to. Pivoting on his rear hoof, Silver threw up a block against a griffon’s stab and countered by slicing one of its wings off.

Magnus grunted in annoyance when his target didn’t fall. Pulling out another knife, he let it fly at Silver with great precision and speed. This one struck near his shoulder, but all it extracted was a quick grunt of pain before the pegasus sliced the neck of a High Guard open. Two blades were drawing blood from deep wounds in Silver’s body, but he refused to be slowed.

More blades were exposed to the light, and one by one, Magnus threw them at Silver Sword. Three, four, and five knives riddled his side, and still the Imperator fought on. There was only one High Guard left in front of him, and with unhindered agility he sidestepped the beast and fought on through the pain. Then the sixth knife struck his shattered wing, and the pegasus finally caved to pain.

Eager to exact vengeance, the High Guard raised its blade to the air. But before it could strike, a throwing knife struck it in the wrist. The griffon shouted, more from surprise than actual pain, and it quickly dropped its blade and stepped back. Magnus was advancing this time, alone and furious.

“Your zealotry has been noted, soldier, but you know how I work.” He gripped the griffon’s neck tightly for a second and looked into his eyes. “When I become involved, I am the one to finish the kill.” The High Guard nodded, the movements shaky and erratic in fear. Satisfied, the Gryphon emperor released his underling and advanced towards Silver Sword.

The steel pegasus had taken the time to reach into his saddlebag and pull out a clear glass bottle. As Magnus approached, he struggled with his shaky limbs to raise it over his head. The blood pouring from his wounds was profuse, and dizziness and nausea was swiftly overtaking his head. Magnus saw the bottle rising, and he knocked it down effortlessly like he was disarming a child. The glass shattered against the marble floor, spilling lantern oil across the floor and around Silver’s body.

Malevolence spiked through Magnus’ imperial façade, and he knelt down on Silver’s chest. He clamped a scaled hand on the pegasus’ neck and squeezed, his serrated claws drawing forth founts of blood. He watched the stallion struggle before speaking.

“You. I remember you. You were there in Nimbus when I was about to kill your friend. Last I heard, he had become emperor of your pathetic nation. Where is he now?” Magnus loosened his grip on Silver’s neck, allowing him to speak.

“Gone… You just missed him… How does that make you feel?” Silver put the best defiance into his voice he could manage, despite the strangulation. His good wing was slowly rising along his side, unnoticed or unheeded by the large griffon on top of him.

“Pity. I had thought he was better material than that. And I thought he would have been eager to claim retribution for his slaughtered family and razed town. I suppose he was more cowardly than I imagined. What was his name? I want to ensure he is remembered in all of Gryphus as our most timid enemy.”

Silver laughed quietly. “No, Magnus, Emperor Hurricane was in no way timid or cowardly. He knows what you know: that as long as one pegasus lives, you haven’t won. This war wasn’t about boundaries or ideals, it was about vengeance. Vengeance against the whole pegasus race. And so he did the smart thing to ensure that no matter what you do, you will always lose.”

Magnus reapplied his grip to Silver’s throat. “Wrong. I will find Hurricane and the rest of you Cirrans. And when I do, I will place the heads of every last stallion, mare, and foal of your pathetic race on spikes around Angenholt. Now, tell me. What is your name, so that I may know who this heathen is that I send to the grave?”

Silver’s expression twisted into a confident smile. “My name is Silver Sword, Imperator of the Cirran Empire. And you?!” His wing had been razed to full height, the iron blades aimed at the ground. “I don't care what false god you claim to be, but you will answer to the true Gods for your crimes!”

With the climax of Silver’s verdict, his good wing smashed the ground at full force. The impact of steel against stone created the smallest of sparks, but it was all he needed. The flames were greedily taken up by the lantern oil around them, stretching tall and orange into the room. Magnus’ momentary shock was enough time for the fire to catch hold, and soon his mighty coat of feathers and fur were ablaze. He pushed himself away from Silver Sword, flailing his burning limbs about his body. But it was too late. The fires consumed more and more, and there was no water to douse him.

“Help! Help me, damn it!! Somebody, help!!” The torch of a dying emperor advanced desperately towards the griffons around it, but the beasts retreated from the sight. Months of cruel and ruthless policies had earned him obedience but not loyalty, and the emperor found he had no allies in his death throes. There were many faithful zealots among his soldiers who hailed him as an infallible god since the day he claimed the throne of Gryphus for himself. Not a one started forward to help now. He collapsed to the floor, reaching blistered talons out to those nearest to him. “Help…”

And all the while, Silver Sword laughed as the flames consumed his body. He laughed as he watched Cirra’s greatest enemy fall to his knees, pleading for his life like a child. Gryphus might have won, but Cirra had not lost. Hurricane was safe, Swift Spear was safe, and that was all he cared about.

“Burn, you son of a bitch.”

Releasing his broken appendage from the sling, Silver spread his wings to either side of his body. Then, taking a deep breath of fire and smoke, he went to meet the Gods with a smile.

-----

The sun was low in the west when Hurricane’s tired wings brought him towards the coast. The rays of light had turned from gray to orange as the fiery orb burnt away the clouds, spreading a dim amber glow over the surrounding countryside. To the weary pegasus, it was the perfect metaphor for an Empire in its death throes.

There had been no signs of equine life in his lonely flight to the sea. The farmhouses he had seen had been abandoned, and no smoke rose from the chimneys of the small settlements he passed by. The legionaries who had chosen to leave had done their job, leading whoever they could towards salvation. The thought provided slight comfort for Hurricane as he began to lower his altitude.

Altus was a small town, even smaller than Zephyrus, with only little more than a dozen houses clustered against the shore. Even so, its population had swollen to hundreds of times its size with the influx of refugees from Stratopolis and the surrounding countryside. The buildings were engulfed in masses of tired and frightened Cirrans, while the remaining legionaries were busy trying to shepherd them into flight groups. At regular minute-long intervals, another flight of a thousand pegasi would begin the trek across the ocean.

Hurricane landed awkwardly on three hooves at the edge of the town and began to slowly pass through the crowds. At first, nopony recognized the battered soldier or acknowledged his presence, but soon the Legion took notice of him. Soldiers began to line themselves at his flanks and escort him through the crowds, attempting to make inquiries about the battle at Stratopolis or about his wounds. Hurricane ignored them all, and eventually they sank into silence.

It took more than ten minutes to get to the docks where the flight groups were taking off, but soon Hurricane’s hooves stepped off of sand and onto wood. Making his way to an unused section, the pegasus sat down and stripped off his armor.

“Food. Water.” The simple commands were taken up by two young legionaries, who quickly left in search of the asked-for items. The rest of Hurricane’s guards formed a simple perimeter around him, and the black pegasus rested his head on the floor and looked towards the setting sun.

Drink and sustenance were quickly found for the emperor, and Hurricane slowly ate his meal. The water was sweeter than any nectar to his parched throat, and the loaf of bread he had been provided with was comparable to the food of the Gods. As the strength returned to his limbs, Hurricane sat up and began to look through the crowds.

He sat there for the better part of an hour, watching as flights of pegasi left him and Dioda behind for their new home. At some point he had taken a quick nap, so it was a surprise to him when a hoof found his shoulder out of nowhere and prodded him to awareness.

“Hurricane…”

The black stallion’s ears perked up, and his head turned cautiously towards the source of the voice. His nose brushed against a soft, cream coat, plated and decorated with gold and onyx armor. Next to the mare stood a smaller filly, who was almost a mare herself.

“Swift… Twister…” Hurricane somehow found the strength to rise off of the docks and stumble into their forelimbs. The three pegasi met in a tearful embrace, Twister and Swift Spear being careful not to put pressure on Hurricane’s broken leg.

“We were waiting and hoping that you would be safe. We sat here the entire day and waited, watching the skies for any signs of you. I guess when we left to get something to eat was when you came down,” said Swift. Hurricane nodded, leaning more into their embrace.

“Silver saved my life. He made me leave while he fought off the griffons in the throne room. It was horrible, Swift. So many dead. Silver, Gold Moon. Too many.”

There was no response that Swift could come up with to lessen the hurt.

“They gave their lives because they wanted to, Hurricane, not because they were taken from them,” Twister offered. “And I’m sure Silver was happy to know that you escaped. Wherever he is now, he’ll be looking down on us and watching over us.”

A troop of legionaries approached Hurricane and gestured towards the skies. “Um, sir,” one began, “The griffons will be all over this place in a few hours. We need to move, Emperor... if that’s okay with you, that is.” The soldier took a nervous step back as he awaited the stallion’s response.

A tense sigh left Hurricane’s lips as he rose to address the legionary. “I am no longer your Emperor. An emperor requires an empire, and Cirra has none. From now on, you may address me simply as Commander Hurricane.” The soldier was taken aback, but a wave from Hurricane’s wing prompted him to accept the change in title and leave. He was stopped when Hurricane raised his voice again to address him. “Wait. You look familiar. Have I seen you somewhere before?”

The pegasus, who was rather small for his age, turned to look at Hurricane. His nervous eyes avoided direct contact with the commander’s, and a hoof shuffled the ground anxiously. “I’m legionary Pan Sea, sir. I trained with you back at Fort Updraft. They sent me back to Altus when I was injured at Hengstead.”

Hurricane nodded. “I thought you looked familiar. The old twenty-third is all gone now, as I’m sure you know. But whatever. Legionary Pansy, was it? It’ll be good to have a familiar face around.” Rather than correct Hurricane’s mispronunciation of his name, Pan Sea weakly smiled and took a step back towards the rest of the legionaries gathered around them and waited.

Then, Hurricane turned and pressed his nose into Twister’s fur. “And you’re right, Twist. Those who gave their lives in Stratopolis did so that we could have a better tomorrow. And now,” he angled his face to where the sun was beginning to disappear into the ocean, “now we honor them by doing just that.”

The three pegasi nuzzled each other one more time, and Hurricane led them into the next flight group. With a mighty surge of air, the thousand Cirrans left the ground and flew slow circles over Altus as they increased in altitude. As they reached the stream of air flowing to the west, they began to tail off and fly out across the ocean.

Hurricane gave one last look to the lands he was leaving behind, knowing it would be the first and last time he would cross the mighty ocean. To the east, the moon and the stars were beginning to rise against the dying sun, overpowering the land of Dioda and the holds of Gryphus.

And as the sun finally fell, night took over the skies. With one last surge of shadow, the form of a black stallion melted into the darkness high above the ocean.