Upheaval: Breaking Point
Chapter 8: Wolven on the Move
Vanguard Clash woke to unbelievable pain, a burning agony that enveloped his entire body. He ran his hooves across his face. He was alive somehow. And awake. He couldn't see anything in the darkness. For a horrible moment, he feared that he had gone completely blind. A sliver of light from a few feet away reassured him. He was in a dark, enclosed place, lying on his side on a makeshift bed of rags. Each attempt at moving brought about waves of pain. As his senses slowly focused, so did his memory: an argument, a quick fight, and the bright flash of an explosion.
"Pyre Valor," Vanguard Clash growled. Even speaking hurt. She dominated his memories. Pyre had asked him to betray the Legion with her, and he had refused. He had known her for years, but he had not expected that she would do such a thing. Not even with all her grousing over the Heartland's injustice. Years of friendship collapsed to worthless rubble during their last conversation, and Pyre Valor ignited the remains with a fireball. He tried to raise his head and groaned as he failed.
How had it come to this? Did he misjudge Pyre completely? Had he been too complacent? He tried to recall memories of Pyre, looking for things that he had taken for granted. She might have shown signs years ago while he remained steadfastly ignorant. Had they drifted apart without him even realizing it? She burned him with no hesitation, and even left him with the indignity of being eventually scavenged. Clearly, her belief in her cause was deep-rooted enough to let her sacrifice others.
Then, there was Blademane. He had sided easily with Pyre Valor. That part of his betrayal wasn't surprising. Blademane had always been by Pyre Valor's side, a silent guardian and ally who did everything she asked without question. Scarlet Rabbit often poked fun at the quiet stallion for being so devoted. Vanguard had underestimated that devotion. He thought it was simple attraction and Blademane's way of courting. Now, the stallion had committed treason along with the object of his affection. He was hurtling headlong to an early demise and he did so without a word of complaint.
It didn't make sense that he survived. Pyre Valor was notorious for her fire spells. She left no burned bodies in her wake, and certainly no survivors. His armor may have saved him, but it would have also melted into red-hot goo that would have fused with his coat. His burns were painful, but the pain meant that the damage was skin-deep. A deeper burn would not have hurt at all. The fireball that struck him was weak. The only answer was one that he despised: Pyre Valor had spared him. Unconsciously or not, she had held back at the last moment.
"Curse you, Pyre," he growled under his breath. He could have handled it better if she had tried her best to kill him. He would have considered her an enemy, and he would have focused on doing his best to kill her with equal fervor. That his friend might still be in there hurt more than it needed to. "Why do you have to complicate things even more? Why couldn't you have hit me with your best shot only for me to survive out of pure luck?" He winced again as he shifted his weight. He made another attempt to stand, but his wobbly legs refused to support him. He touched the sides of the space he was in and felt canvas. He was in a tent.
The tent's front flaps flew open, flooding the inside with ruddy, red-orange light. The brightness forced Vanguard to squint at whoever had opened the flaps. He was greeted by a pair of bright red eyes and a pair of toothy jaws. Survival suddenly seemed an overestimation of his fate. He was in a tent with a wolven.
"So the strange-smelling thunder-foot is awake," the wolven rasped. It's tone suggested that it was female. Her words were thick and a little clumsy, but she spoke his language well. "Keep your head down and stay still, thunder-foot. If we wanted to eat you, you'd be bones by now. Do not undo my remedies with your useless struggling."
Vanguard checked his body. Most of his flanks, his torso, and a portion of his face had been wrapped up in bandages. The light coming into the tent was from a large bonfire, an obvious sign of night time. A strange, slimy concoction oozing through some of his bandages gleamed from the fire light. "Why have you spared me?" he asked.
"Our scouts found you half-dead and burned," the wolven replied. "They brought you here to share the meal, but I smelled you." The wolven licked her lips. "You didn't smell like a true thunder-foot. Now, you stare at me with wolven eyes, and I am sure."
"You're speaking in gibberish," Vanguard said.
"That's because you listen with thunder-foot ears!" the wolven snarled. "It doesn't matter what you think, only what I know!" She moved her face closer to his, and he could smell her reeking breath. He wrinkled his nose at the sound of her sniffing. Her broken, yellowed teeth and rasping voice showed that this was an old wolven he was talking to. "I know your smell, breaker. Under all that thunder-foot stink, I can smell the faint odor of wolven. You can hide under all that metal." She glanced at the pile of barding by one corner of the tent. "You can hide in cursed Terrato's herd, but I can smell you out."
The old wolven cackled and rasped. It was hard to tell where the laughter ended and the hacking cough began. "I know what I am and so does everypony in the Legion," Vanguard said. "If you think that I'm ashamed of it, you're wrong."
"That is good for us, breaker!" the old wolven crowed. "Stand strong! Once your legs match your heart, we will let you go. Go back to cursed Terrato's herd and do what you are meant to! What old Regiskra has seen you are meant to do!" She left the tent, cackling and wheezing all the way.
Regiskra walked out of the thunder-foot's tent and made her way through the camp in high spirits. The moment the thunder-foot had opened his eyes, he confirmed what she had seen. Everything was going according to her vision.
A rasping growl of a shout came from behind her. "Regiskra! Why is that half-cooked thunder-foot still alive? We should have been tearing his entrails out when the scouts dragged him here!"
"The thunder-foot has more important things to do besides fill your belly, Hasrok," Regiskra answered without looking back. "He will walk out of this camp alive."
Hasrok, a massive, gray-furred berserker, bounded ahead of Regiskra and snarled at her face. "I lead this pack!" he spat. "He is a prisoner, and I will decide what we do to him!" He drew himself to full height. Hasrok was bigger and stronger than any of the other wolven in the camp, something that made sure that he was their leader. Vertical and diagonal scrars crisscrossed his face and body; marks of challenges against his authority.
"He is the Breaker in my vision!" Regiskra snarled back. "He is the wolven-eyed thunder-foot fated to break cursed Equestria no matter what he does! If you eat him, I will tell our king that you pushed our victory away from his claws. Then, you can fill his belly!"
Hasrok backed down. He shifted his glare from Regiskra to the tent she had just left. "Your vision," he growled. "Even pups dream, and they wet themselves as they do it. You forced us to carry your altar out here for the sake of dreams! If all of this is a lie, you will fill my belly, old one!"
"This old one will choke you while she goes down your throat, pup," Regiskra muttered. She walked past Hasrok and headed for the altar that he had been railing against. She was not worried by his threats. Her vision was coming true before her eyes. Now, King Fenrir had entrusted her with this important mission to call out Moon-Shadow, who had just been freed from a thousand-year imprisonment.
The wolven altar was a large structure of wood, stone, and bone. It rested on a massive cross-beam meant to be carried by a dozen strong-backed wolven while they were on the move. A simple wooden stair led up to a pedestal of stone that rested before a towering monument to their king's companion. Sharpened bones and sticks were lashed together to resemble a waning moon: Moon-Shadow's favorite image.
A thousand years ago, cunning Moon-Shadow slipped past cursed Terrato, who was distracted by Arugek's blundering invasion. In the heart of Equestria, she formed a bond with the fair Luna, the object of King Fenrir's desire. She attempted to start rebellion among the thunder-foots to cause eternal night, but cursed Celestia had her own sister thrown to the moon, dragging Moon-Shadow along in imprisonment. Only recently had Moon-Shadow managed to return, but she was defeated yet again, forced out of fair Luna's body by the thunder-foots.
Now, King Fenrir wanted her back by his side. The altar was meant to anchor Moon-Shadow's wandering, incorporeal form. It just needed to be close enough to Equestria. With his companion by his side, King Fenrir could begin his invasion in earnest.
"The wolven await your return, blessed Moon-Shadow," Regiskra intoned. "Let our howls guide you back to our pack so you may lend your might to our king." She let out a long, dolorous howl, which was followed by the rest of the camp. The altar glowed an ominous purple light as their howls spread across the plain. They ceased as a deep purple haze streaked across the sky from the south. The wolven around the camp whimpered and cowered with their tails between their legs as the haze descended upon the altar. Regiskra grinned fiercely, and stepped forward. "You honor us with your presence, blessed Moon-Shadow. Our king wishes you to come to his side as he moves against cursed Terrato and his wretched herd."
The purple haze swirled around the altar, its amorphous form creating the image of a pair of eyes. "You have done well, old one." It spoke in an oily and soft voice. "Tell Fenrir that I must stay here for a while longer. I have found a suitable host among Terrato's thunder-foots, a unicorn who may not match Luna in power, but more than exceeds her bitterness and rage. I will return to Fenrir's side with the ruined remains of Fangbreaker Fortress as a gift."
Regiskra bowed low as she answered. "As you wish, blessed Moon-Shadow."
The glowing haze flared briefly, then faded away. The rest of the wolven camp murmured in awe as Regiskra descended the altar. Hasrok was already waiting for her at the base. "Even blessed Moon-Shadow knows that the thunder-foots are about to fall." Regiskra sneered at the bigger wolven. "Do you still bark your scorn at my visions?"
"I see pretty smoke and an old dog talking to herself," Hasrok growled. "I will not believe until I am standing on FangBreaker's rubble and feasting on its defenders!."
"Then sharpen your appetite, Hasrok," Regiskra replied. "You will be feasting soon." She turned towards the rest of the gathered wolven. "Blessed Moon-Shadow has heard our prayer! She goes among Terrato's wretched herd to rend them from the inside!" The camp erupted in cheers. "We will do our part as well. We will release the wolven-eyed thunder-foot and send him back to Fangbreaker." At that, the wolven fell silent and murmured among themselves. "Do not doubt!" Regiskra's rasping voice rose. "We do not do this out of mercy. He is the Breaker from my vision. He fights for the thunder-foots, but he will be their downfall. He will turn cursed Terrato against his sisters and set the thunder-foots against each other! When the blood-haze of their infighting fades, the wolven will feast on the remains!"
The camp burst into cheers and howls when Regiskra finished. Still grinning, she retired to her tent to tend their "prisoner."
Vanguard had not remained idle inside the tent when Regiskra left him alone. He struggled to his hooves. When that failed, he dragged himself closer to the tent flaps. As he suspected, he was in the middle of a large wolven camp. This was no scouting party: it was an advance unit of Wolvengard's army. There were scouts of course, the smallest of the wolven, but there were also their warriors who were much bigger and much more armored. Their collars bristled with spikes. Their flanks and shoulders were covered in layered plates of metal. There were also a couple of their berserkers: enormous wolven twice the size of any pony, with bulging muscles and freakishly huge jaws and claws.
Vanguard knew better than to focus just on the strengths of his enemy. Regiskra and the big wolven were arguing: a sign of a power struggle within this pack between the leader of their warriors and what appeared to be some kind of seer or shaman.
There was also what happened at the strange structure at the center of the camp. It must be the same structure that Commander Dreadstep had mentioned. So it was an altar meant to call something that had been hiding in Equestria. The mysterious entity that Regiskra called forth was worrisome. Whoever and whatever this "Moon-Shadow" was, it was bad news for the fortress. These wolven made no secret that FangBreaker was their target. It was a shame that Vanguard could not hear what the thing and the crone had been talking about.
Then, there was Regiskra's constant referring to him as "the Breaker". Vanguard snorted at the thought that he was a part of some convoluted wolven hallucination. He had no intention of "breaking" the Legion. Far from it, he had to make it back to the fortress now in order to save it from Pyre Valor's betrayal. Still, if it meant that he could escape this wolven camp and make it back, he was willing to go along with their so called prophecies.
When Regiskra walked towards the tent, he dragged himself back to the makeshift bed. The friction from rubbing against the ground made his burns sting horribly, a pain he bore quietly. Regiskra poked her head through the tent flaps and grinned. "Were you watching, wolven-eyed thunder-foot?" she asked. "Look all you want. There is no need to hide it. Play the loyal spy for cursed Terrato. Give him gifts of what you have seen, what you have endured, and who you have killed. You will still be the Breaker."
"You spout overconfident lies, crone," Vanguard growled. "The Legion will not be broken. Not by your king, and certainly not by me."
"So I'm a liar now?" Regiskra laughed. Flecks of her spit landed on his hooves. "We will see, wolven-eyes. Now, rest and gather your strength. You will need it for your return to your precious fort." She settled over the other side of the tent and closed her eyes. After some time, her breathing became steady, and a rasping snore escaped her mouth.
Vanguard settled down. Though these so-called "visions" were ridiculous, he felt a bit of uneasiness. His thoughts shifted to what he had done just days ago. What if the crone's vision meant that? Had he set about events that would cause the downfall that these wolven were talking about? All he wanted was a chance for Twilight to remember what she experienced out here. Perhaps, that was a foolish triviality as Pyre Valor had said. Being executed for it was something he could accept. Watching Equestria break because of it would haunt him beyond death.
'Twilight Sparkle…have I made a mistake?'
Vanguard remained awake. He stared at the top flap of the tent thinking of what Twilight Sparkle was up to. Had she thrown away his emblem? After seeing what was happening here, Vanguard hoped for that. It was such a stupid thing to do. It set Pyre off, and may do even worse. Perhaps Twilight had remembered, and the Heartland was now in turmoil. For the sake of a triviality, he had indeed become "the Breaker".
Vanguard Clash shuddered at the horrific thought.