James could only imagine what was going on to his right. It wasn't good. Before long, the Griffons and their allies would completely surround him, and then...
He chose not to think about it, and decided to give the necessary orders instead. "Fall back," he rasped, the words reluctant to leave his throat.
"Sir?" a private asked.
"Fall back." The words were no less distasteful than they had been the first time.
"Where to?" a lieutenant inquired. "Can't fall back without a fall back position.
"Uhhh..." He gave it some thought. "Pull back to that big hill, behind our camp." It was a good place to make a stand. He hadn't chosen it because it was surprisingly barren and thus vulnerable to artillery fire, but it was the only position he could think of trying to hold out from. Their only chance was to fight until dusk, and then try to break contact.
"Sir, that will allow the birds to take our camp!"
"I'm afraid it can't be avoided. Get to that hill before they encircle us. I don't expect spending the rest of your life in jail or in a prison camp is any more appealing."
The soldier who had objected dipped his head. "No, sir."
"Good. Then get over there, on the double!"
All up and down the line, his soldiers began to obey as word got out, falling back from their prepared positions and withdrawing toward the hill he had indicated.
Good thing that soldier reminded me about the camp. There are some books in my tent that I have no intention of letting those black-hearted scum getting their greasy mitts on. He turned on his heel and ran, knowing he was in a race against time.
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James arrived at his tent after a quick and uneventful run. Oddly enough, a strange calm appeared to have taken place over the battlefield. The only indication of danger seemed to be the feeling of impending disaster in his chest.
He snatched up his bag, motioning for Kiki to follow. Other than the bag and the kitten, there was nothing he could take with him on such short notice.
A screech from the skies made him turn around; he felt something slam into his side, and he went sprawling to the ground. He looked up to see a Griffon warrior, raising his sword and about to strike the final blow.
An a brief moment, he remembered everything that had happened to him since he had arrived in Equestria. Oddly, he felt calm as the sword reached the peak of it's height, and a calm feeling of serenity overtook his fears as his doom began it's downward strike...
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Shining Armor watched helplessly as I Corps disintegrated; thousands of ponies galloped as hard and fast as they could away from the battle, panic overcoming their features as they fled, oblivious to everything but the terror that had infected them.
It would be impossible to rally them in this state. And, pressured from the right and about to be pressured from the left, there was nothing he could do.
"General, what are your orders in the wake of this... debacle?" asked a unicorn from the Guard.
The obvious choice was to retreat, and immediately. That, however, would leave III Corps, and James, in the same mess as he was in. Abandoning his ally and friend was the last thing he wanted to do.
It couldn't be helped. Dammit, James, I'm so sorry. "Call for a general withdrawal, and quickly, before they can surround us!"
"Yes sir," the other stallion replied, and raced off to deliver the command.
Shining's eyes, however, were focused on the far left of what had been the Equestrian line.
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There was a hiss and a caterwaul, and a ball of angry fur and claws threw itself at the warrior's face, and the enemy reeled and screamed with pain as he dropped his sword and tried to get a hold on the enraged cat. The sword landed mere inches from James' face.
He didn't waste a second. He drew himself up, unsheathed his sword, and plunged it into the belly of his foe. The enemy warrior fell, grabbing at his stomach as Kiki jumped off his face, turning around and spitting furiously.
"Come on, Kiki, move it!" James called as he gathered up his bag and started to run toward the hill.
"Come on yourself, sir," came a friendly voice to his right. He turned his head to see Silver Lining flying alongside him. "They're followin' us, sir," the pegasus continued. "They're coming as fast as their wings n' legs can carry 'em, an' they're not slowin' down."
"Get everyone you can see to that hill over there." James stopped for a minute and pointed to the hill in question. "Gather up any extra supplies and ammunition, and get up that hill as fast as you can."
"Aye, sir," Silver said as he saluted and zoomed away in a burst of speed.
James put everything he could into running; he looked back once, and saw the enemy beginning to emerge from the tree, and rush into the tents.
Hopefully they'll be too busy pillaging those to follow us too closely, he thought as he kept on running, willing his legs to put on an extra spurt of speed.
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"General," the lieutenant said as he walked into the cabin, bowing to Grayfeather, "the enemy are fleeing before us. Even the wings of their force are pulling back. Your victory has been won, sir!"
"Don't celebrate just yet," the Griffon general scolded. "From all indications, First and Third Corps are pulling back, not routing, with Third Corp pulling back to this hill," he added, pointing to the offending landmark. "Order our right to continue pushing at all costs, and catch them before they can fortify that position."
"Yes sir." The lieutenant saluted and marched out of the tent.
Grayfeather looked at the map as he sat back down. Soon, he thought to himself. Soon.
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James collapsed on the ground with exhaustion as he reached the summit. As he panted from the exertions of the long run, he looked up to see his troopers doing what they could to fortify and reinforce their position. Fallen logs and fence posts were taken up and placed to create new barricades. Soldiers kept checking their ammunition and powder, and a number of dutiful pegasi hovered some distance above to keep a lookout.
He forced himself to his feet and took a look northward. So far, few of the Griffons and mercenaries were in sight. That would change. He motioned to a lieutenant of the regulars. When the pony had come close, he said, "Make sure you stretch the line to all side of the hill. They're gonna be coming with everything they have, and I want everything covered."
The lieutenant saluted and trotted off to make sure the orders were obeyed.
"General..." James turned to see an anxious Guard standing there. "We have a... situation with the ponies who brought up our wagons of supply this morning."
Oh, what now? Forcing himself to remain calm, he asked, "What's the matter?"
"They're refusing to leave, and are demanding that we let them help in any way they can."
Great. Now I'm besieged by civilians as well as soldiers. He threw up his hands in exasperation. "Civilians aren't trained to fight. Tell them that, I have a battle to organize." Or at least, to save.
"Sir, I think it would be best if you came yourself. They're pretty stubborn folk."
Normally, James saw stubbornness as a strength, not a vice. This time... "Alright, I'm coming," he said at last. "Bring me to them."
"Right this way, sir." The pony lead him southwards, away from the soldiers who were now desperately trying to prepare for the hammer blow about to strike them.
As they came to the opposite edge of the summit, James noticed a large, mixed group of ponies, most sporting the look of hard working farmers; a number wore hats not dissimilar to that worn by Applejack.
If they're anything like her, I doubt I'll have an easy time convincing them to leave. "Alright, what's going on here?" he demanded.
A few of them showed surprise upon laying eyes on him. He rolled his own set of eyeballs; this again.
Most, however, stood their ground with determination. "You gotta let us help, Gen'ral!" A stallion with a golden apple on his flank shouted.
"Why should I? You aren't trained soldiers. I can assure you that you don't want to see the elephant; I swear you don't."
"You think I don't know what's at stake here, Gen'ral?" The stallion demanded indignantly. "Ah lost a brother to this war already."
James took his hat off and bowed his head briefly. "My condolences." He replaced the kepi on his head. "My objective here to keep that from happening to you."
"You don't understand, Gen'ral: mah farm is at risk, and so are theirs," the defiant stallion said, waving a hoof at the group he led. "Ah don't want no birds wreckin' mah place, or takin' the fruits of our labor."
"The chances are, that's going to happen anyway; we've lost this battle, and we can do now is try to perform a rear guard action to save what's left of the army. At dusk, we must fall back. I'd be more concerned with getting your families to safety."
For the first time, genuine consternation swept the small crowd; frightened whispers and shocked expressions were the lot of this band.
"Still, we'd like ta help you, Gen'ral," the stubborn farmer pressed on. "Ah'll send some o' the mares to bring word to their towns, but the rest of us would like ta help you."
Mares? James took a quick look; sure enough, many female ponies had shown up, and showed the same determination to protect their families and livelihoods as their husbands and sweethearts.
"We're goin' ta help whether ya let us or not, Gen'ral. Seein' what you said, ya don't have the soldiers to force us to leave."
Damn you, you're right. "...Fine!" James said angrily. "But I wash my hands of any blame over what befalls you this day."
"Thank ya Gen'ral," the stallion said gratefully, bowing his head in thanks.
"Don't thank me; by nightfall this day, many of you will probably be dead."
That succeeding in making the stallion shiver, but his determination remained strong. "What do ya need us to do?"
"Have the pegasi round up as many clouds as possible. Send the unicorns up to the front so we can use their magic to repel then enemy. And send the earth ponies to gather up as many supplies as they can, with a priority on ammunition, powder, and water, and bring those up here to the front lines."
"What about weapons?"
"If you find one that's been... discarded, you may use it yourselves, but be aware that some of them require more finesse and training to use than you're used to."
"Alright." Turning around, the farmer-turned-soldier said to the crowd, "Ya'll heard 'im; get to it! Merry Weather, Fluffy Cloud," he continued to two pegasi mares, "Ya'll go an' warn the towns nearby an' tell em' to evacuate, foals and mares first." The two ponies nodded and flew southward.
The speed in which the ponies in the crowd took to the stallion's instructions impressed James. "You seem to have a lot of influence with them."
"Yep."
"What is your name?"
The gold-yellow stallion posed dramatically. "Mah name's Golden Delicious," the pony said, putting a hoof on his chest, "and ah run a big ole farm round these parts."
"Interesting." James scratched his chin with his hand. "You wouldn't be related to the Apple family clan, would you?"
Golden Delicious pulled himself tall and straight. "Sure am! We Apples have a long an' hardy history here in Equestria!"
James nodded. "I've met Applejack. She's honest, loyal... and stubborn, just like you."
The farmer laughed. "She's a good 'un, just like the rest of us."
Before either of them could continue the conversation, a pegasus landed beside them. "General, they're coming."
James turned back to Golden Delicious. "Sorry, but I have a battle to direct." He ran back toward the front lines. "See you soon!" he called behind him.
"Sure thing!" the civilian called back to him.
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"Okay, what do you got for me?" James asked, stepping atop the parapet, taking out his binoculars and peering into the distance.
"A couple regiments marching directly for us, sir." Lieutenant Blitz, famous for lighting attacks during the winter war, sounded worried.
James could see hundred of attackers approaching. They were likely only the first of many. He noted with satisfaction that they were disorganized; they came on as a mob, not in the strict formations they should have been in.
"They haven't stopped to reorganize; I think we can take this first wave easily, Lieutenant. In the meantime, have our cannons hold fire; I want to save the potential for damage for when the real mess starts."
"Zu Befehl, Herr General."
"Danke." James lowered his binoculars and replaced them in his coat pocket. Blitz had just said, At your orders, my General; it was good to know he could count on the lieutenant. "And tell another pegasus to take a message to Shining Armor, tell him I've got his back while he pulls out."
"I could deliver the message myself, Mein Herr."
"Nein." James shook his head. "I need you here. Send someone else, and make sure your company is ready." Captain Barrel had been wounded the day before, and as such Blitz had taken command.
"Jawohl." Blitz didn't look happy, but what could you do? War was not a happy business. If he wanted out of the fighting, then that was too bad. Thousands of others were taking the same risks, and were still ready to do battle.
James looked around for a gun to use. He saw a wounded soldier with a bandaged leg and walked over to him. "Mind if I use your gun?" he asked.
The soldier waved a hoof. "Sure thing, General. I won't need it." He adjusted his hat.
"My thanks." James picked up the weapon and it's ammunition. "Is it loaded?"
"Nah, you'll have to do that yourself."
At least I have it. James nodded, and walked northward to the line. The flag of the 5th Baltimare met his eyes. It was a bold flag, displaying a Bengal Tiger lashing out with it's claws in the center and waving two main colors, with white on the top half and green on the bottom half. It was, at the same time, a flag showing off ferocity as well as a wish for peace. James felt a resentment for the conflict rising within him upon catching sight of it.
He squashed the feeling. It wouldn't help here. He went up to the pile of wood the unit had muscled into position and began to load.
Put in the powder. Place the ball. Ram the ball down. Replace the ramrod. Put a little powder in the pan. Cock the mechanism. Annnnnnnnnnnd.... We're done. With the procedure complete, it was a matter of waiting for someone to come close enough for him to feel confident of hitting them. And the Griffon troops were still a long way off.
Squinting, he thought that they looked tired. A few flew excitedly, but their wings beat much weaker than he believed they should. A few battle flags waved among them, but he nodded satisfactorily, seeing that most were torn horribly by bullets and crossbow fire. They hadn't had an easy time, that much was clear. Best yet - for the Equestrian army, anyway - it was ever more obvious that they were in tatters as far as leadership and organization were concerned. Few officers were among them to control them and those who were there were too few to bring the weary troops into proper battle array.
Good, we'll whip this bunch quickly. As he raised his head, something caught in his nose, and his nostrils flared. Is that... smoke?
"General, lookie there!" a soldier shouted, pointing a hoof northward, in the direction of what had been the Equestrian camp. A thick vale of smoke was rising above the trees, with minuscule ashes being borne by the wind and scattered to the four corners of the earth.
"They're burnin' our camp!"
"Aw, noooo...."
"All my letters to my lil Munchkin are my tent!"
"Damn birds..."
James listened with half an ear to the angry disposition of his soldiers. The destruction of your enemy's camp was usually the sign that you'd beaten him.
Is this a sign from God? Are we well and truly beaten?
He looked around. His troops showed more sign of anger than of despair. More importantly, they seemed ready to fight, to come to grips with the invader, to resist his foul advance and to defy him to the last.
...No. We aren't. A new hope took hold inside him, and a powerful resolve fueled the fires of defiance. We'll fight to the gates of Canterlot itself to stop them. "Soldiers of Equestria," he began, "we have suffered a grievous loss today. But this fight is far from over; on our right, the noble Shining Armor and his brave warriors are retreating to the south. Our job is to cover them until nightfall."
He took a deep breath before going on. "On this hill, we shall prove that, although beaten, we are not broken. Our spirits are strong, our resolve to see this war won unshattered. Now comes the enemy, many and prideful; perhaps they think the war is all but won. I say they are blind, for you all stand with me here on this hill, prepared to fight for your people, to fight for the right to live in freedom and peace with your families. Hold them back, and at dusk we shall withdraw in good order. I only ask one thing of you; never let them see you run!"
He was met by a yell from uncounted throats, screaming defiance and hope. When he looked back at the enemy, he saw them waver, unbalanced by the unexpectedly valiant ponies. Their few officers screamed at them to continue advancing, and after a few minutes and with great reluctance, they did, in fact, continue uphill.
So a shout won't stop them. Let's see if this does. "Level your pieces!" he called out. When he saw that his troops had obeyed, he hollered, "Fire!"
Gunshots mixed with the sound of crossbows going off. Enemy warriors fell, slain or wounded by bullets. Quarrels struck them a second or two later, sending ever more of the Griffons and their hired thugs to the ground.
For a few moments smoke covered the area so profusely that it was hard for James, or anyone else, so see what effect the volley had had on the enemy. Then...
"Sir!" They're runnin'!"
"What?" As the cloud dissipated, James could see that, for the first time in the war, the foe really was running in absolute panic en masse. Dismayed cries mingled with the screams of the dying as the enemy ran headlong down the hill, occasionally tripping over a dead body only to get up and keep running. As he searched the field for officers, he realized he could see almost none; most had been felled by the withering fire. And he noticed that the number of slain outnumbered those of the survivors, who paid no heed to anything save their own terror.
His own army cheered, jeering at the enemy and giving massed shouts of "Hurrah!" If their morale had had any doubt laid within it, it was now dispelled.
"Don't get cocky, boys; it'll be harder next time," James warned them. "Blitz, are the cannons ready yet?"
"Almost, Mein General, but many were lost in the retreat."
"We'll make do with what we have." That's all any soldier can do.
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Shining Armor noted with some relief that II Corps was withdrawing in an orderly fashion. They were joined by more than a few of Blueblood's own soldiers, who were, in a word, glum, and that was an understatement. Many of them stared straight ahead, though ponies and objects; he almost thought they were blind, except that they walked around obstructions and were careful not to trip over anything. He didn't want to think about what they'd been through.
Northward, the sounds of battle continued. A sudden roar of gunfire caught his attention, but after waiting for a few minutes he could hear no more.
He heard a flutter of wings, and a bedraggled blue pegasus trooper landed to his front. "General," the soldier said immediately, stopping to catch his breath for a moment before going on. "General Lavigne says... to withdraw best as... possible to the south; he... is currently engaging the enemy on a hill a couple miles northwest. I... flew as fast as I could... to tell you..." The pegasus collapsed in exhaustion.
Shining nodded to two Guards standing not far away, and without hesitation they went over to the soldier, picked him up, and carried him away. At least he knew something about the action now.
A cannon boomed in the distance, from the direction the messenger had indicated. No, the fighting wasn't over quite yet. He hoped it would end with the survival of his friend and the troops under him
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"Artillery is at your orders, General," Blitz reported.
"Very good. Tell them to hold fire until I give the word."
"Ja."
James could survey the field from his position. He could see movement in the trees at the bottom of the hill, and knew another rush was in the works. "Wait til ya can see the whites of their eyes," he called out. "Don't waste what you've got unless you're sure you can hit what you're aiming at."
"Gen'ral." James turned to see a pinkish pegasus mare hovering at his left. "What'r yer orders?" She adjusted her cowboy hat.
"Gather the clouds you've found. When you hear me give the word, unleash lightning upon anything that isn't either me or a pony. Got it?"
"Yep. One big ole storm, comin' up, gen'ral." She flew into the sky.
"If only the problems of the world could be solved through peaceful actions," James muttered to himself. It wasn't going to happen, at least not here.
"Sir." A unicorn from the Guard at his right saluted.
"Yes?"
"We were joined by many survivors of Blueblood's troops, but a lot of them don't have ranged weaponry, and I don't want them out there unless they can do something useful."
"Send the unicorns to the front, and have them fire spells until they get to tired to do so. Have the pegasi gather what clouds they can, and zap yonder miscreants with lightning."
"And what of the earth ponies?"
"Have them bring the injured to safety, and fix any damage our defenses receive during lulls in the fighting. And send any walking wounded to join Shining Armor in his retreat if we haven't been cut off yet."
"Yes sir, I'll get right on it."
"Dismissed." James and the soldier saluted one another, then the human commander went back to watching the enemy. Even as he turned to look, they emerged from the trees and advanced, somewhat more carefully this time but still marching forward in a manner that bespoke a failure to completely reorganize; little groups remained apart from each other and were lead by sword-wielding officers who made little effort to rejoin the small clumps of soldiers together.
A recipe for disaster, if there ever was one. "Artillery... Fire!"
He saw soldiers pull the lanyards, and there was a slight hissing sound before multiple cannons blasted away. Shells began landing on the slopes, exploding and sending up clods of dirt. To his dissatisfaction, however, the angle was too steep, and most detonated in the woods rather than on the hillside. Two trees collapsed, and enemy warriors scrambled to avoid them. One landed with a dull thud, the other with a loud crack that made itself heard above the sounds of battle.
A few of his soldiers, overeager or perhaps nervous, began firing their weapons prematurely. Scattered bolts flew down hill, but almost none of them hit anything. Equestrian sergeants shouted for them to cease fire, and after several seconds the sporadic firing stopped.
James watched as the invaders approached. It was almost cliché by now. The multi-color uniforms of the Griffons were unmistakable, and were good targets for the rank and file.
Sergeants and captains gave the order to fire. Ponies leveled their weapons and pressed the triggers. Thunder, fire and smoke emitted from the barrels, intermingling with the cries of the enemy soldiers who had been hit. here and there, a mourning howl came from a Diamond dog, and furious roars echoed from many a Minotaur's throat.
As the smoke cleared, he could see the enemies beyond bring their weapons to bear.
"Duck!" He threw himself to the deck. He heard a ripping roar of thunder; wood splintered above his head, lead bullets ricocheted from rock, and a number of Thock! sounds came from the bodies of those who had been hit, along with screams and furious curses.
He rose to his feet quickly. For now, the Griffon soldiers were content to reload rather than rush the defenses his troops had so hastily erected. Any dog who had gotten his paws on a firearm did likewise. Those with melee weapons had no choice but to press forward or be shot down where they stood. By the time those so armed were anywhere close, the Equestrians were ready with another volley; entire lines of the attackers dropped as though they were marionettes whose strings had been cut by divine scissors.
This was too much for the dogs; they dropped their weapons and fled, most going on all fours to escape the barrage of defensive fire. Griffon commanders ordered them to go back, but none of them did anything of the sort.
A few Minotaurs, still alive despite their wounds, charged into the breastworks and began slicing away with their battleaxes. James picked up a bayonetted matchlock, and threw it into the chest of one of these. His target yelled angrily, but fell just the same. Picking up a spear, he made his way over towards another, a bull so fierce that even Guards backed away before his fearsome yowls.
He ran at the enemy warrior and, as the foe turned around, he shoved the spear through the enemy's neck. The Minotaur gurgled as he clutched at his throat and fell.
Looking around, he saw that the others had been put down, and the outgoing fire increased. Once you knew what you were doing, you could reload a gun rather quickly. That, plus the fact that the ponies were fighting from behind fixed defenses, was turning the tide in their favor. Fewer enemies remained to fire at them, and soon their commanders, a relative few of those who had first lead the assault, gave the order to fall back. The Griffons retreated reluctantly, some shooting as they backed away.
James sighed with relief. Another attack had been repelled. That meant another lull to get the wounded to safety and repair damaged works. He knew the luck he had had couldn't last forever; eventually the invaders would realize what they were doing wrong and fix it.
He muttered under his breath as his eyes swept the field. An overwhelming majority of the fallen were Griffons and mercenaries, but many ponies were down as well, crying for help and in pain, others ominously silent and still. It was a terrible scene indeed, one he hoped he would never have to lay eyes on again. He knew, too, that he was unlikely to get that wish until the war ended either way. And it wasn't about to end on this battlefield.
I was careless, he decided. I should have expected them to pull a fast one on us, to call forth mercenaries and whatnot. Instead, I was blinded by victory, and saw only what I thought was the light at the end of the tunnel. As a result, we're further away from that light than we were before. He felt like pounding a rock. He resisted only out of the knowledge that his flesh and blood hand would break on the hard surface; it wasn't a pony hoof, hard as rock itself.
He pushed those thoughts back down; they wouldn't help, and he would have all the time in the world to ponder his decisions... if he survived this battle.
He took another long chug from his canteen. It was certainly past noon, but that meant another several hours trying to defend a position under increasingly organized and ferocious assaults. He doubted his ammunition would last that long; eventually his troops would run out and would have to endure being shot at before a devastating charge overwhelmed them. At least, that was the scene his imagination formed.
The pink cowgirl mare from earlier fluttered down in front of him. "Gen'ral, the pegasi've gathered every cloud from here ta Trottingham; when do you want us?"
"As soon as the very next attack begins. It probably won't be much longer than five, ten minutes from now anyway."
"Okay, sir, just give us the go-ahead on yer own time, and we'll give 'em the biggest thunderstorm they ever saw."
"Good." With that, he waved his hand, and the pegasus flew away, up toward the aforementioned group of clouds.
I hope they have good aim; wouldn't want to be zapped myself. He sat down to rest.
"Excuse us, sir, coming through."
"Oh?" James turned to see two ponies hauling an injured soldier on a stretcher. He got to his feet and took a better look.
"Aw, damn it, Star," he said in a mixture of mourning and anger, "not you too." The Lunar Guard had his leg bandaged, and had a grimace on his face from the pain.
Star smiled weakly. "They got me, sir. Compared to too many of my friends and brothers in arms... I guess I'm lucky."
"If this is luck, may we never know misfortune."
Star laughed, then groaned. "At least they said I'm gonna keep the leg. And if you still need me to fight..."
"You'll do nothing of the sort," one of the medics interrupted. "Let's go buddy, off to the field hospital with you."
"There isn't one."
"Then we're bringing you to the next best thing." Before the Night stallion could say another word, the medics hoisted the stretcher up and carried him away; James could still hear him moan a little as they set off.
"He's not the only one from our corps to be so wounded, sir." James turned on his heel to see another Lunar Guard standing there. "We suffered too many losses when the metaphorical dam broke, if you pardon my meaning."
"I understand. What happened?"
"They hit us with more than we could bear. Too many of them, too few of us... and not enough leadership on our side to make a difference."
"...I see." James scratched his chin; he would have to shave soon. "And what of the Prince?"
Most of the time, stallions from the Guard, whether of the regular Royal Guard or the Lunar Guard, showed absolute respect for members of the royal family. This time, the Guard's face contorted with anger. "Oh, him?" The stallion snorted in contempt. "Last I heard, he took off in his personal carriage when the fighting got too close to his oh-so-glamorous-abode; didn't stop to think about the kids dying under his command." When James said nothing immediately, the soldier said, "Court martial me if you want, General, I'll take it fair and square."
"As it turns out, I agree with you." The stallion lifted an eyebrow. James explained, "He made himself unpopular with me and Shining Armor on his first day of soldiering, and he never improved. Seeing as he didn't listen to me when I sent a messenger to inform his about the Griffon buildup, I doubt he had the courage to face that disaster when it was unleashed."
"You can say that a million times, and I'll believe it every time you say it, sir."
"For now, I would be very grateful if you gathered the survivors of your corps and gathered them to the rear, in the likelihood that we shall need a reserve."
"Much obliged, General." The stallion saluted.
James returned the salute. "Dismissed."
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General Grayfeather was not the happiest Griffon ever hatched. The four colonels in front of him knew what was coming. "You idiots, you sanctioned two assaults without properly reorganizing your forces?!"
All four of them shrank back from his fury. While not as... wrathful as General Hawkfrost, his anger was still a sight to behold.
One of them had the courage to try and explain his actions; "We thought it best to continue to pursue the enemy in his retreat, to take as many as we could..."
"We would have done better if you halfwits had stopped to reform your ranks, instead of letting... this," the general growled, waving a claw toward the burning remains of the Equestrian camp, "happen."
"It wasn't us sir," another of the nincompoops broke in, Scottish accent permeating his words, "it was the Minotaurs; you know them, sir, they wreck everything n' everyone that gets in their way."
"And as a result of their rampage, which you had the power to stop, many supplies and intelligence we could have gleaned have been lost. Colonel Gilderoy, you had the weapons to force the lumbering brutes to obey, yet you failed to use it."
"Better than letting the enemy escape..." another tried to put in.
"Fool!" Grayfeather took a swipe at the younger but less agile officer, who barely ducked in time to keep from being slapped full in the face. "The enemy was beyond your grasp at the time. Perhaps if you'd taken your time and done it right, you wouldn't be before me now. Hawkfrost might have allowed such stupidity to run abundant in his army, but as you all know, he died in battle a victim of his own recklessness. I will not sanction any such conditions in any army under my control, do you all understand me?" he demanded, dragging out the syllables of the last few words.
The other officers bowed their heads. Glideroy, the one with the Scottish accent, sighed. "We understand and obey, General. What r' yer orders?"
"Prepare another offensive, but get your artillery in place before doing anything. I'll give the order for the next attack. And you will wait for my order, and enforce patience upon your own soldiers, or there will be hell to pay."
Seeing them nod, he grumbled as he waved his claw and sent them away. His anger was still there, but it merely smoldered rather than boiled, as it had before. Sadly, for the Griffon cause at any rate, there really was almost nothing to be salvaged from the wreck of his enemy's camp, and he suspected that, contrary to Colonel Glideroy's claims, it was not only the Minotaurs who enacted the senseless destruction; all too likely, many frustrated Griffons, having lost friends and comrades, would have liked nothing better than to destroy what they could of the foe's possessions. And of course, many dogs would have had similar emotions running through them as well at the time.
Already scouts had confirmed that Shining Armor and his command had slipped away, and the army wouldn't catch them anytime soon, especially as the battle was far from over as it was. The general stared at the offending hill just to the south. Sooner or later, it would have to succumb to the attacks thrown against it... wouldn't it?
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James made sure his matchlock was loaded and ready before taking yet another gaze at the bottom of the hill. Nothing had happened for an hour or so. He began to feel nervous.
The battlefield was amazingly quiet. The world seemed to hold it's breath, waiting for the blow that was about to come.
Finally, he heard artillery fire from the north. Shells and cannon balls, along with the occasional rock, streaked through the air.
"Get down!"
He dropped to the ground and covered his head. Explosions and dull hits made the ground shake, and dirt blew onto him and other soldiers taking over. When he raised his head, he found to his relief that this volley had failed to cause much, if any, damage; most of the munitions had overshot their targets.
That knowledge was tempered by the fact that the Griffons would be recalibrating their artillery angles. The next shots would be much closer.
He could see a few cannoneers watching him. "What are you waiting for?" he demanded. "Shoot back!"
He didn't have to tell them twice. they got to work at once. Within a minute the battery was ready to fire. For good measure, he walked over to the nearest gun. "Is this positioned where you want it be?" he asked the gun captain.
"Yes sir."
"Good." James took the lanyard and pulled it.
BOOM! He felt as if someone had lifted him up and slammed him back down. White smoke blocked the field. Other guns followed suit; although he could hardly see any of them, he could easily hear them as the cannons crashed off, sending death streaming into the forest.
The response was not long in coming. More angry shells crashed to earth, and he heard something strike metal and something crumbled. As the smoke from the gun dissipated, he saw that one cannon had been struck squarely by a rock, which had broken against the metal barrel and left nothing but a dent where it had struck. That cannon would fire again.
More to his concern was the artillery crew who had been hit by splinters. Three of them were down, but he could see that for two of them, their wounds were only scratches, which would heal quickly. The third, however, had been struck by numerous fragments and was honestly down and out, though not dead. Before he could call for a medics, two of them showed up and began to minister to the needs of the injured troopers.
"General!" came the voice of Crystal Clear. James watched him land.
"Yes? What is it?"
"They're bring up some of their boys to flank us, sir. I suggest looking to our sides and rear.
"Send our reserves to block our rear. Let them know not to let the enemy pass."
"Yes sir."
A rock slammed into the ground just behind the pegasus, who ducked instinctively but uselessly.
"I suggest you find good cover when you've done that."
"Yes, sir!" Before another object could land on him directly, Crystal Clear spread his wings and jumped into the sky.
Now, to see how long we can stand...
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The bombardment lasted for about half an hour, though Bright Star didn't bother to check. All the while he kept his head down in the grass as projectiles flew overhead. Afterward, when he thought about it, few of the rounds came anywhere near him, or his buddies; they always seemed to blow up or land far behind. At the time, though, he didn't notice, or care.
Finally, the explosions and thuds came to an end. He raised his head, and when nothing happened initially, he got to his hooves and made sure his gun was loaded; the end of a bombardment could only mean a follow up attack.
Sure enough, sporadic warnings of oncoming Griffons quickly came down the line. He raised his weapon and made sure his right hoof was on the trigger; as the hard appendage couldn't feel, he had to check with his eyes.
And here came the invaders. This time, they came ready. Their line was three birds deep, stretching across a half mile or so. Most bore matchlocks, though some of the poorer clans bore crossbows and regular bows instead. Dogs came as well, but Griffon officers forced them to advance in an orderly fashion, with rusty crossbows, basic, primitive bows and swords looking as if they would disintegrate any moment with all the rust covering them, and their spears were no better. The Minotaurs looked absolutely miserable; they were forced to march, not run at the defenders as they had before. While terrifying, those charges had at least exposed them to Equestrian fire.
More such lines came on the flank of the first, slightly behind and advancing just as conspicuously. Dread began to take hold in Bright's heart. How are we going to beat that?
He felt like running; as a earth pony, he could run faster than either a unicorn or a pegasus. It would be so easy...
He looked to his right. He didn't know why, but he did. Beside him stood a fellow veteran of the war. From the looks of him, he'd fought from the first battles against the Changelings. There was little notable about him, other than a stoic, determined look on his face and a quiet sigh.
Oddly enough, that made him feel better. Running was for those who cared nothing about friendship; if he ran now, he would be abandoning his fellow soldiers. It would scar him for life, knowing that they fought while he ran and hid.
I won't run away. Not now, not ever.
Drums sounded from behind the enemy lines, and they increased their pace.
Cannons began to fire once more, but the effects were different. Instead of explosions, small knots of hostiles would drop. He didn't know what the artillery ponies were shooting, but it was effective, no doubt about that.
It didn't stop them; it never had, not by itself. The silent, steady march of the enemy continued. The Griffons rarely responded to the fire unless they wound up being hit themselves. The dogs were clearly worried, but more afraid of their immediate superiors, while the Minotaurs, as always, showed a contempt for death entirely.
Bright raised his matchlock. Killing another sentient being still felt wrong. It hadn't decreased since slaying his first Changeling in the ambush in the desert; in fact, the feeling, if anything, had increased. It was, however, plainly obvious that the enemy either had no such compunctions or had brushed them aside, and would slay him and his comrades if he didn't give it his all.
"Ready boys?" the captain called out. Without waiting for an answer, the officer continued, "Steel yourselves, wait for my order, then rise and give 'em what they deserve!"
I don't want to give them what they deserve. He forced that thought down. It would only make doing what he had to do all the more difficult.
"Steady... Steady..."
Bright took a bead on a Minotaur; it was important to bring those big bruisers down. Already, many times today, he'd seen the carnage a few of them could wreak when they got in close.
"Now, let 'em have it!"
He fired, as did everyone else. The sound struck his ears like a thunderbolt.
"Now!" shouted another, familiar voice, "strike!"
A something flashed, in unison with a roar like that of an angry god. An enemy soldier crumpled, dead long before he hit the ground.
What...?
More flashes, and more deafening thunder; lightning struck, and with every fall of a bolt an enemy died, stricken by a force that no armor or skin could hope to deflect. Now one was hit, now another farther down the line, and yet another was killed, struck dead by fury from the sky. The world darkened, even though it was a while before nighttime yet.
Have the divine powers, whoever and whatever they may be, come to deliver us? He looked up. High in the sky, pegasi, both soldiers and civilians alike, slammed their hooves into clouds, bringing lightning instantly into the invaders' ranks, dealing out death left and right.
If the effect was frightening for the Equestrians, it was terrifying for the foe. Warriors and soldiers alike dropped to the ground in panic, not knowing what else to do. More than a few took to their heels, or wings, and fled, as fast and as far as they could from that terrible spectacle.
At the same time, multi-colored bolts of magic streaked downhill and struck the enemy. Some of those hit just rolled over and moved no more; others, more in number, grabbed at burned skin, fur, and feathers, hurt though not killed by the attack.
A volley of canister completed the harvest of death; hundreds dropped as though by a giant scythe. More quarrels and bullets put a period to the matter.
A few of the enemy, brave enough to endure the terror that must surely have taken hold in their hearts, did manage to get ahold of themselves and march to within firing distance; they loosed everything they had. Bright ducked, and an arrow flew through the air where his head had been.
He had reloaded by then, and he shot back, as did everypony on the line. More enemy soldiers fell.
That did it. First in drabbles, then in hordes, the foe broke and ran for their lives down the hill, abandoning weapons, armor, and equipment in order to flee faster.
Bright Star sighed, lowering the gun. He'd survived. All up and down the line, ponies cheered at the sight of the enemy running away.
"Let's hear it for the pegasi!"
"Hip hip, hooray!"
"Hip hip, hooray!"
"Hip hip, hooray!"
He looked back at James, who simply looked relieved that this onslaught was over. "Don't cheer yourselves out just yet," he warned. "There'll be more yet. Make sure you're ready; we still have a job to do; protect the boys making their way back down to road. If we hold off their next few attacks, we'll be joining them soon."
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Grayfeather listened to the noise of battle and of thunder. He grabbed at his chair. "What's happening out there?!" he asked himself anxiously.
Soon enough, he found out. a lieutenant, wide-eyed and in a state of panic, ran into the tent. "Help us General!" the soldier pleaded. "You have to do something, they have lightning and everything you can imagine killing us left and right on that accursed hill!"
What do you expect me to do, you poor wretch? I'm not a god. As fast as the though came, he got rid of it. "They are using the pegasi's natural ability to use clouds to do what they are doing. Send some companies into the sky to put a stop to them. And bring up any reserves we have." He lifted himself out of the chair. "And begin the flank attacks. Hopefully, that will distract them long enough for our troops to launch the final assault and finish them.
He looked down at his feet; the lieutenant was in a fetal position, sucking his thumb.
"Idiot." He look up at the guards at the tent door. "You heard me. Deliver the orders to our commanders."
"But sir, your protection..."
"That was an order!" Without further ado, the two guards left.
Grayfeather tried once more to crush the doubt now weighing in his chest. It should have been over and won by now, yet the ponies and their human commander still held out with resilience he had not expected. This time, although he managed to force it down, he was unable to bid it to leave completely.
We've won here, he told himself. The enemy has been beaten, and this is just a rear-guard action. Regardless of what happens, we've won.
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Star Blaze listened to the battle taking place without him. Everything inside him screamed for him to rejoin the fight.
Too bad the medics had tied three of his legs to a boulder after his first few attempts to do so.
Reports came in, not by messenger but by wounded soldiers brought in for treatment. They brought in news of lightning bombardment and of continued resistance by the defenders. It sounded like the kind of event in which heroes were born.
And I can't help them. My friends and comrades are sacrificing life and limb, and I can't help them.
"Doc, I think my leg's getting better. You can untie me now!"
"Nice try," A doctor said, not even looking in his direction. "You're staying here until the General gives the order to retreat. Only then will we let you walk out of here... and only if we say you can.
Damn it, doc.
"And my name is not 'Doc,' by the way."
Star face-hoofed.
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James emptied what was left in his canteen straight into his mouth. Hours of assaults had stopped the Griffons cold, but they were adapting quickly. He had to keep some pegasi on guard rather than use lightning strikes, as the winged warriors had tried numerous times to kill or drive off those blasting them with powerful electricity. And the flank attacks, though repulsed, had come all too close to cracking the line. As it was, he was taking significant losses; thousands of ponies had been taken to the makeshift hospital - one without benefit of a roof - while others lay where they had fallen.
I'll never play Rome again, not after seeing this, he thought, surveying the hilltop. Nor Call of Duty or Halo or whatever else is out there.
"General," a private said, coming up to him, "I'm running out of ammo; I only have two more shots, and some other guys say they don't have any left at all."
"Damnation."
A Guard walked up to him as well. "Sir, most of the unicorns are growing exhausted, and can't provide any more help with spells."
"And don't forget us pegasi," one of that subtype of ponies said, hovering in front of him. "Our clouds don't have the stuff left in 'em to make anymore lightning, or anything else of value to us."
What do you expect me to do!? I'm not a magician! I can't make arrows from thin air or conjure clouds or do anything like that! He threw up his hands in exasperation. The ponies before him looked all the more dismayed upon seeing the despairing gesture.
Control yourself. He dropped his arms and took a deep breath. "We'll have to use cold steel, in that case."
"Sir, that's suicide."
"it's what we have left. Have anyone who still has ammunition fire it off, then tell them to drop the guns and take up the spear." Inspiration struck him. "Have your troops wait until after they've fired off a volley, then charge. If we're lucky, we may be able to take them before they manage to reload." He looked around. "I know it's risky, but it's our only chance."
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Silver Shield listened to the instructions given by the captain, though he kept an eye on the hillside. From what he could tell, the whole thing was, if not outright suicidal, then outright risky.
He could feel almost no weight from his powder horn, and he was down to one shot. He loaded carefully; if this was the last shot he would fire (hopefully only for this battle, and not for his life), he wanted it to be a good one.
A few shots from Griffon cannons flew overhead; none of them hit where they were supposed to, of course. The angle for normal cannons wasn't right for the job.
"On the line, colts! Move it, move it, move it!" A sergeant shouted. Ingrained to obedience, Shield did so without any hesitation, without any questioning, either aloud or in his mind, of the commands he received. He could see the birds and their erstwhile "friends" making another, final march up the hill. Equestrian guns fired their last shots; case shot was more effective than shells, despite being new (At least, for us, he thought, remembering the books James owned; some of the stuff used in this was mediocre compared to what he had seen from books about the First World War), and slew a fair number of the enemy.
"Ready arms!"
He leveled his weapon against the rock he was crouching behind, lining up what appeared to his eyes to be a pompous officer.
"Aim..."
He did so, taking a bead on the torso of his target; aiming anywhere else was likely to lead to a miss.
"FIRE!"
He, and everyone he could hear, did so. Bolts and bullets slammed into the enemy line, dropping hundreds. He had no idea if his was the one that knocked down his target, as it was all too likely that others had taken aim at him as well.
He dropped the gun and his powder horn; they were useless now. His spear, his every trusty spear, was now his only weapon. He picked it up, and it's weight was reassuring.
Now he saw the enemy level their weapons. He ducked, as did everypony else.
A rippling blast, and the sound of wood and earth being torn away by bullets, quarrels and arrows... And, somewhere, somepony who hadn't taken cover quickly enough screamed.
...Damn it...
"Go, go, go!"
Shield leaped over the rock and charged running full out, spear-tip sparkling in the dying sunlight. He heard more than saw others follow him, thousands of hooves thundering against the ground.
Looking ahead, he watched the opposing line get closer and closer, until he could see their shocked faces before him.
One leveled a crossbow, hastily reloaded...
He never fired it. Shield's spear went through his neck, and the warrior dropped his weapon and fell to the ground.
All up and down the line, the shock of the downhill charge, physical as well as mental, struck the enemy with the force of a hurricane. Many were cut down as they tried to reload or as they discarded the now useless guns too late. Spears thrust again and again, awash with blood, only to lash out again and again, striking down warrior after warrior and giving the foe no chance for a reprieve.
Having faced the fury of the Equestrian defenders for two days, and having been subjected to gunfire, artillery, lightning, and the most basic of magic, Diamond dogs began to run, again going to all fours to escape, losing all taste for battle.
Despite the power of the attack, most of the Griffons refused to run initially. They fought back with whatever they had, swinging matchlocks like baseball bats and slashing with swords and daggers. In spite of the casualties they suffered, they fought on courageously, refusing to give an inch without fighting for it first.
They paid for it. Trying to fight against an enemy charging downhill was difficult. Fighting against one using spears was even more so, especially if you weren't equipped with spears of your own.
"Come on, lads!" a Griffon officers shouted, trying to inspire his troops. "We can take 'em, they caun't last forever!"
Like hell we can't. Shield withdrew his spear from yet another victim and sized up the distance between himself and the optimistic enemy commander. Judging that he could get to him without overly risking himself,, he leveled his weapon and charged on three legs, with the fourth keeping the spear straight as he made his run.
The colonel didn't see him in time, and was only just beginning to turn when Shield's spear struck him squarely in the side. He could see a look of astonishment on his opponent's face as he fell, looking for all the world more stunned than hurt. The griffon hit the ground, groaning once before he stopped twitching.
A dismayed cry came from someone nearby; "Colonel Gilderoy's dead! No!"
Upon seeing their beloved commander dead on the grass, the closest Griffons began to run, all morale gone. Some took to the sky, others just fled as fast as they could downhill.
Oh no, you're not getting away that easily. He fixed his spear as he had before, readying himself for another charge.
"That won't be necessary, Shield. We've beaten them."
He turned his head to see his two-legged friend a few feet away, looking tired but triumphant.
"General, we should catch as many of them as we can before they escape..."
"We need to fall back ourselves. I don't want our boys to get too spread out."
"That'll be hard sir; the boys are on their way to Gryphos!"
"That lofty goal is beyond our reach today, I'm afraid." Turning to Crystal Clear, the General commanded, "Make sure the rest of our boys get the word. We have to withdraw to Trottingham as soon as possible, before their superior numbers can overwhelm us."
"There are still a few Minotaurs still fighting as hard as they can, General. I think we need to deal with them first."
"Yes, but make it clear that no one is to advance any further, it's going to take a while to gather our meager supplies and equipment as it is, and I want to get started as soon as possible."
Crystal and Shield both saluted. "Sir!"
James nodded. Then, as he turned and walked away, Shield heard him mutter, "'It is good war is so terrible, else we would become too fond of it.'"
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This chapter is finally done, phew. Sorry it took so long, I tired to get it to be as dramatic as possible. The next chapter probably won't be out until August, due to a vacation I will be taking. I thank you all for your support of this story. If you notice any errors, please inform me in the comments.