//------------------------------// // Fire in the Mountain // Story: Children of the Sun // by Vanner //------------------------------// Chapter Twelve: Fire in the Mountain It was extraordinarily strange to gallop on a road of clouds. It didn’t move like the ground did, and stallions worried constantly about outpacing the bank of fog that stretched like a rainbow underneath their hooves. To anyone who might have been watching, it was sort of absurd to watch two ponies running at breakneck speeds atop the insubstantial wisps of clouds that served as a road across the foothills and valleys of the griffon territories. Still, it was a thing of beauty to watch a coward and a hero gallop across the sky, even if no one was watching. The gifts of the weather unicorn had proven to be valuable assets. Even if time wasn’t of the essence, the shoes and fog stone made travel infinitely easier. It was easy to see why pegasi never stayed in the same place for long; it was easy to lose yourself to the elation of open sky and unlimited freedoms. Bard himself had a hard time not turning around and running the other direction from the tower full of griffons. Truth be told, he was terrified. He kept telling himself that he was doing the right thing, that saving his friend and child was more important than letting fear take hold of him. But he knew in his heart that if Ridgeline weren’t galloping beside him like a crusade of vengeance, he wouldn’t be out here. If anything happened to him, there was a very real chance he’d just cut his losses and run. Bard wasn’t ashamed to be a coward, but he would have been if he abandoned a pony he vowed to help. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t; he’d just feel terrible about it. In Ridgeline’s mind, there was no doubt. As the two stallions thundered across the fog bank, he thought of them as the righteous sword of Celestia. Even if he wasn’t really a knight, even if Bard didn’t worship his goddess, they were doing the right thing, and that’s all that mattered. It didn’t matter that there might be a thousand griffons in that tower; it didn’t matter that they were only two ponies. They had the fury of righteousness at their hooves, and that was all they needed. For an hour the ponies galloped toward the griffon spire, and for an hour the fog stone created a road for them over the foothills and valleys of the griffon’s territories. As they came close, Bard urged the stone to pour forth its clouds to mask their entrance. The fog rolled in around the base of the tower, and there the ponies rested for a moment. Soaked in sweat, the stallions again went over the plan, and prepared their route. The only entrances to the rookery lay at the top of the spire, several hundred feet off the ground. The ponies would fill the valley in which the spire sat with fog, then walk up to the entrance level. The captured griffon had told them that every entrance was guarded by two griffons, and that if anything went wrong, they would raise an alarm that would bring an entire wing of griffons down on their location. The plan was to take out the two griffons there, then work their way to the upper level where Constance and Muffins would be held in wait for the griffon king, Phantasm. With a grim determination, Bard turned the fog stone over in his hooves, and let it pour forth. Without the stone, they had only the overland route to get back to Hoofswell. Bard left it on the ground to make sure that he couldn’t simply run away at the first sign of danger. He may have been a coward, but he also knew how to force himself to act. Clouds billowed from the stone, and joined the fog that already rested in the valley. After a few minutes, the spire became wrapped in a blanket of clouds so thick that none could see through it, and the shouting of griffons above echoed into the valley. The stallions took to the clouds and began to climb the tower. Twenty miles away, Heart Chase had crested the ridge into the Griffon Kingdom, and watched as a pillar of cloud enveloped the rookery. Star Heart had told her it was twenty miles as the pegasus flies, but she was still to shaken to take to the sky along a bridge of clouds. Instead she cantered out upon the hills and valleys of the ground, and made her way to the tower. She only prayed to Celestia that the stallions would be able to hold their own until she arrived. … Constance’s wings hurt. She wasn’t sure she could fly yet, and that scared her more than she thought possible. He she was, trapped in a cell with a scared young filly, and she couldn’t even fly to safety. Not that she would have been able to anyway; these cells were designed to hold pegasi for… whatever it was they did to them. She didn’t even want to think about it. What she did want to think of was a way out of this nightmare. If she could get free, then she knew she could outrun the griffins long enough to get out. After that, she wasn’t so sure. She knew she couldn’t count on Bard; he was such a massive coward that he would run from the slightest sign of danger. Ridgeline had toppled over the edge of balcony, so he wasn’t coming to save them either. Heart Chase… well, considering she couldn’t be trusted, there was no reason to expect she’d come either. It was up to her to get herself and Muffins out of here. Constance took an assessment of what she had going for her. She was alive, but had nothing on her. The griffons had taken her golden earrings, the bangles around her fetlock, and her scarves. She felt naked without them, though they were kind enough to leave her winter cloak. The fuzzy little pegasus didn’t seem to mind the cold too much; she was too frightened by the unknown to worry about something silly like the cold. Still, what Constance needed most of all was a plan. She couldn’t muscle her way out like Ridgeline could, nor could she use fancy magic like Bard. She did have something that none of her companions had though. All of the guards she had seen were males, and she knew thing or two about what griffons wanted. She spent a few minutes preening her wings. Gina had once told her about what griffons liked, and a small part of her had filed that information away for a cloudy day. Today was that day, literally and figuratively. Clouds began to roll past the cell windows, and soon the air outside was thick as soup. Constance pulled out her braid, and with a shake of her head, let out her mane out to wave. She whistled at the guarding griffon, and he padded over to the cell to see what she wanted. He was clearly younger than the massive griffin that had carried her and Muffins here; of a much lower rank too. Instead of the silver armor of the raiding party, he wore wooden vambraces around his front legs, and a wide brass collar that covered his torso. Still, he was attractive, and just the sort of client that Constance loved: young, naïve, and easily manipulated. “Why hello there, handsome,” purred Constance. “What’s your name?” The griffon raised a suspicious eyebrow at the rose coated pegasus. Was she really coming on to him? “Talos,” said the griffon. Constance put a hoof to her muzzle and giggled with a coy smile. “Such a masculine name,” she said. “I bet all the gals love a strapping young thing like yourself.” She turned her hips to let the griffon get a better look at her curves. The griffin tried, and failed to not look. His eyes traced her curves, as she ran the tip of her tail underneath his chin. “Why I bet you’ve got a dozen griffinesses downstairs just lining up to get their claws on you.” She traced his height with her eyes, letting them linger on his flanks and feathered chest. “Mmm… I wouldn’t mind a piece myself.” “N…no ma’am…” he stammered. She was coming on him! He shook his head; mustn’t fraternize with prisoners. “I mean… you stop that!” Constance only smiled and lowered her eyelashes. “Oh Talos,” she purred. “You couldn’t be more obvious if you were wearing a sign. You don’t have to be shy, I can tell you’ve never been with a lady before. Come and let Miss Constance tell you a thing or two. I won’t bite.” She smiled a bit. “Not unless you want me too.” She leaned through the bars, and whispered in the griffin’s ear. He blushed enough that his red cheeks could be seen through his white feathers. The griffin fumbled with the keys as he went to unlock the cage. “Ah, ah,” said Constance with a smile. “Don’t you think we should go into the next cell? I prefer privacy.” The griffin only nodded dumbly and opened the other cell door. As Constance walked from her cell, she traced her tail along the griffin’s chest. “I’m going to enjoy you for a while,” she said. The pegasus winked back at Muffins. Muffins only blinked in confusion. She wasn’t really paying attention, but she did catch snippets of Constance’s whispering. The filly had heard a lot of those words before, just never put together like that. The ones she didn’t know sounded weird, and she wasn’t sure if she liked the sound of them. For perhaps longer than was necessary, the next cell over was awash with muffled giggles, ruffled feathers, and the occasional squawk. There was a jingle and Constance’s tail wrapped round the corner. The jailer’s keys spun across the floor to Muffin’s hooves. So that nice griffin was going to let them go after all! She picked up the keys in her teeth, and unlocked her cell. Muffins went to the other cell to get Miss Constance, but she looked busy doing grownup stuff. She wandered down the hallway, looking for a way out instead. … There were certain advantages to having a younger pony’s body. While Glaive wasn’t exactly a spring chicken, that sixteen years of age difference made Iron Pick feel like a brand new pony. He only hoped that his arthritis riddled joints were killing Glaive. It would serve him right for taking his body in the first place. If it weren’t for the fact that he was currently occupying the form of one of the most hated stallions in Equestria, he’d consider keeping it. As Iron Pick cantered through the Everfree forest, he thought long and hard about what he was planning to do one he actually reached Canterlot. By himself, and especially with this younger body, he could easily reach Canterlot ahead of the Bridleburg army. However, getting anypony to listen to him was going to be a nightmare all its own. Unless he was able to find Lunar Rebellion sympathizers in Canterlot that didn’t know of the body swap, he was going to be alone in a hostile city dressed in conspicuous armor. At least it fit well. Iron Pick had been cantering through the forest for the past eight hours, and finally stopped to rest underneath a tree. His coat was drenched with sweat, but he wasn’t sore like he expected. Iron Pick was glad that Glaive had managed to take care of his body; there was no way he could have done this in his own. He looked around the forest, and took in the unnatural landscape for a moment. When he was a colt, this forest was a wooded area outside the old capital. There was the occasional wild animal, and a tribe of Hamites that lived in the plains, but nothing like the untamed growth that had sprung up in the past few years Ponies had a theory that as unrest grew in Equestria, so grew the Everfree forest. Somehow, the trees were connected to the state of mental health of Equestria. If that had been true, it was easy to see why it had gone mad in the past five years. Endless wars had raged through a country that had known only peace since time immemorial. Only now had the wars almost stopped. If it weren’t for the Griffin wars up north, and the civil war he had sparked, Equestria might have been at peace long enough to remember what peace was like. Iron Pick hoped that he lived long enough to see Equestria united in harmony again. A rustle of bushes not too far off set Iron Pick on high alert. Something or someone was approaching. Taking advantage of his dark armor, he hid among the shadows, and waited. From the bushes came a small herd of mules and donkeys. They were all universally grey, though some of the mules had cutie marks. Iron Pick watched them for a moment as they gathered firewood, and berries. What were they doing this far out in the Everfree forest? Iron Pick remembered the fall of the capital, and how the Lunar Rebellion forces had a split a few days before the invasion. Mules and donkeys were being forced back into slavery by those driving the rebellion. The problem was that they had already given the lesser equines weapons and armor, and they weren’t about to be put back under the yoke of slavery. They called themselves the Kin of Luna, and dedicated their lives to the goddess they had known before Nightmare Moon. Ponies had joined their ranks in the years since, and they kept to themselves in nomadic tribes. Except when they raided farms for food, they were harmless. One of the mules stopped gathering firewood for a moment and stared in Iron Pick’s direction. He held up a hoof to warn the others of danger, and pointed right at the unicorn. “You there,” he said. His voice was stately, and smooth as glass. He sounded as if he had been orating his entire life. “Come out of the bushes, traveler. We mean you no harm.” Iron Pick considered for a moment. Would they recognize him? Would they attack? He removed his helm, and appeared from the brush. The fillies and colts scrambled behind the adults as Iron Pick stepped out. Glaive’s dark armor, with its scaled plates and menacing helm, gave Iron Pick the appearance of a warrior that had never seen peace. The mule took a step back from the armored unicorn. “Glaive?” asked the mule. His eyes went wide with terror. H dropped into a defensive stance, and backed toward the woods. “D…don’t come near me! I’ll kill you if I have to! Get out of our forest! We will not be slaves again!” “My name is Iron Pick, though that’s not the form I’m occupying,” replied the unicorn. “Glaive has stolen my body and is taking it to Canterlot at the head of an army. I’m going to try to stop him.” Iron Pick looked over the cowering equines; was this really how Glaive had intended to rule Equestria? “I am just passing through; I mean you no harm.” “What army?” asked the mule. “There was a company of siege engines that rolled through the forest just north of here yesterday. They’re probably only ten miles away, given how slow they are.” “Siege engines? Where the hell did…” The answer hit him like apple dropped from a tree. Those were his siege ballista and catapults, and they were supposed to be for the defense of Bridleburg, not assaulting Canterlot. Once again, Iron Pick’s foresight and planning, the two things that had made him successful, were coming back to bite him in the flanks. Iron Pick let out a heavy sigh. “Can you take me there?” asked Iron Pick. The mule looked at him skeptically. “What’s in it for me?” he asked. Iron Pick raised an eyebrow. What sort of question was that? “Unicorns have been trying to enslave mules and donkeys for generations. Why should I help you? Why shouldn’t I put you in chains instead?” “I’ve never…” “Maybe you haven’t, but your grandfather, or your great grandfather has,” said the mule. “Why do you think so many of us live in the forests? Or on the plains? It’s to keep away from ponies so they don’t slap us in irons and chain us to the plows. I ask again, why should I help you?” Iron Pick really didn’t have an answer to that. This mule was out here in the forests trying to provide for his family, and here he was, asking him for help. He hadn’t intended to give the mule anything for his help, he had just expected it. Yet if the same mule had come asking him for assistance, he would have ignored him. The mule was right; he had no reason to help a unicorn. Iron Pick had nothing he could offer him anyway. He put his helm back on and cantered north to try to catch up with the siege company. Without the awesome firepower of the zebra weapons, Glaive would never be able to breech the palace walls, and he wouldn’t be able to get to Celestia. How he intended to defeat an entire company of soldiers armed with catapults was something he’d have to consider on the way there. … Heart Chase cantered along the hills and valleys of the griffin territories as she raced for the fog bound spire of the griffins. She knew she was getting close as crested another hill, and found herself enveloped in the low hanging clouds. The tower lay somewhere in the distance, visible only as a shadow among the clouds. She plunged into the fog, and galloped for the tower. Thick as the clouds were, Heart Chase seemed to know exactly where she was going. She hadn’t worked up the nerve to start walking on the clouds yet, but she could get close to the spire base and search for a way up. Given that it was a griffin structure, the chances of it having such an entrance were slim. What griffin worth his feathers wouldn’t want to fly? Heart Chase shuddered at the thought. Around the base of the tower, she found the smoky quartz stone that had accompanied her along every step of this journey. Why had they dropped it? Were Bard and Ridgeline captured? She put the stone in her satchel, and looked around. From as far as she could see, there was nothing to indicate that an entrance existed anywhere below the skyline of this miserable place. Even if there were, she wouldn’t be able to find it in all this fog. Out of options, Heart Chase looked to the sky and gulped. She’d have to climb the clouds upward. Nearly a quarter mile above her, Bard was busy trussing up the two griffons that Ridgeline had incapacitated. Bard’s illusions had caused a distraction long enough for Ridgeline to get the drop on the beasts. Ridgeline had come in from overhead and clapped their heads together like rocks grinding grain. They moved into the rookery, and slinked along the walls. Despite the elevation and the climate, the rookery wasn’t actually too unpleasant. Sure, it was chilly, but it was nothing like the blistering cold outside. The stallions looked around a moment as they tried to best gauge the way up to where the cages were supposed to be. Because the griffons were creatures of flight, stairs were almost nonexistent in this structure, but since they often captured ponies who didn’t have wings, there was one set of stairs that led to the prisoner levels. It was guarded by two bored looking griffons, who were chatting about some of the fine chicks that were coming up into the ranks this year. Distracted by the talks of gorgeous flanks and silky feathers, they failed to notice the ponies moving into position around them. Ridgeline put his griffon in a headlock, and held the beak with the other hoof. Bard’s rope snaked from his pack, and spun like a tornado around the claws and beak of the other. The griffin struggled for moment or two against the earth pony’s impossible strength before losing consciousness and slumping to the stone floor. Bard trussed the second griffon, and tied their wings together. It would be painful, certainly, but it wouldn’t kill them. As silent as church mice, the stallions made their way up the stairs. At the top the spiraling stair case, another griffin stood watching the hallway that led to the cells. With two pegasi in the cages, Phantasm would be making an appearance shortly. The griffin shuddered to think of what would happen to the poor mare. Still, it was either pegasi or griffins, and there had been too many griffins sacrificed to their dark king recently. Maybe there was some other place he could go without that psychopath reigning over them. He didn’t want his chicks growing up under this madness; there had to be other griffin rookeries. Those three dark griffins that the king kept couldn’t be everywhere in the kingdoms, could they? The griffin snapped up from his thoughts to see the fuzzy little pegasus walking toward him with a big smile. “How did you get out of that cell?” asked the griffin. “Miss Constance let me out,” said Muffins. “Mister Talos gave her the keys, and I walked over here.” She sat down on the stone, and smiled up at the griffin. “Can you show me the way out? My daddy’s going to be scared if I don’t come home.” The griffin only stared in amazement at the pegasus filly. This child should have been terrified of a griffin, yet here she was, smiling and talking to him as if he were her best friend. The fuzzy strawberry pony hadn’t learned fear yet. He thought for a moment about teaching her, but to scare the smile off her fuzzy cheeks would make him into the same sort of monster that ruled the griffins. He couldn’t help but think of his chicks. They weren’t much older than this filly; how could he sacrifice such an innocent soul to Phantasm? “What’s your name, little filly?” he asked. “My name is Muffins,” she said. “What’s yours?” “You can call me Manus,” said the Griffin. Constance came trotting around the corner; Talos was following her like a puppy. Manus looked up at his friend’s silly grin, and the pegasus sultry smile. He blinked in disbelief. That certainly explained how she had gotten the keys off him. Muffins fluttered up to Constance with a happy grin. “Mister Manus is going to show us a way out!” said Muffins. “He’s my new best friend just because he’s so nice.” Constance only smiled. Perhaps griffins weren’t so bad after all.