//------------------------------// // The Battle of Maneden // Story: Armor's Game // by OTCPony //------------------------------// A Changeling courier buzzed through the morning mist and settled to a halt in front of his General. “Report,” demanded Lord Cocoon tersely. “It’s as you suspected, My Lord. Shining Armor is advancing on us. He’s secured his left on the Canter Creek. It looks like he’s covering his right flank with two cavalry brigades. He’s also keeping a cavalry reserve behind his centre.” “Thank you, return to scouting and report back any changes.” The courier fluttered off. “What do you think the ponies have planned, My Lord?” asked Cocoon’s second-in-command. Cocoon stared icily across the battlefield to the east. A light mist still coated the plain in the morning twilight. A hooful of bushes and a copse were scattered across the otherwise-flat battlefield. “Shining Armor knows his ponies are better than us. Individually, they’re stronger and are far more familiar with their weapons than our soldiers. And his artillery is superior. His best bet will be to make a general advance behind an artillery barrage and force us from the field.” “But we have a good defensive position here, sir?” asked the second-in-command, uncertainly. “Yes, and it will cost Armor ponies to take it. But we can’t hope to win a battle by sticking to the defensive. We may hold Maneden, but if he can break our infantry on either side, Armor will be able to isolate and reduce it at his own pace.” “Any changes to the plan, then, My Lord?” “No. Hold this position and await my orders. Let them make the first move.” *** Major General Neigh grunted as he marched at the head of his division. Two hours of marching since breaking camp and he still hadn’t been able to banish the morning chill. Sweat collected uncomfortably under the band of his cocked hat. His hooves, though protected by two pairs of emergency edible boots, were painfully numb. His headquarters marched stoically behind him. Behind them, the snare drums and bugles of each regiment rattled and trumpeted, keeping eight thousand ponies in step. The glorious sound of thousands of hooves landing and lifting as one filled the air. Neigh felt a smile pluck at his muzzle. He was marching with his division to lick the Changelings. Today, they would wipe the undeserved shame of Valneigh from their record. He checked his watch: 0650 hours. “PARADE!” he bellowed. “PARADE, HALT!” He and his headquarters slammed their hooves into the grass. On either side of him, Neigh heard the regimental commanders give the same orders to their troops. With a thunder of hooves, the 3rd Division came to a parade perfect halt. On either side of him, the pink, blue, orange and green colours of Neigh’s regiments flew defiantly in the morning breeze. The mist was starting to blow off, and Neigh began to feel warmth on his back as Celestia’s sun rose behind him. A hundred yards to the north of his leftmost battalion was the shimmering blue ribbon of the Canter Creek. The gap was plugged by No. 15 Battery, Royal Artillery. He bared his teeth at the sight of a black line of Changelings a couple of thousand yards across the plain. Apart from a few gorse bushes, they had a direct line of advance to him. Well come and get me, then, he thought. Come Tirek or Tartarus, his division was not moving from this position. If it did, the army’s entire left flank would collapse. He had impressed that upon his ponies: theirs was the most important position on the battlefield as the rest of the army formed up to their right. Shining Armor had ordered the army to march in echelon: if the Changelings attempted a pre-emptive strike on the 3rd Division and tried to isolate it on its right, they would very quickly find Warding Ember’s Guards Division slamming into their own flank. But that wouldn’t be necessary, he’d added when addressing his officers. There would not be another Valneigh. His division would be victorious on its own. *** “Judging by their standards, My Lord, it’s the same units that drove off the Fifth at Valneigh.” “And the rest of their army?” demanded Cocoon. “Still moving into position, My Lord.” “Very good. Send the Fifth through Seventh Legions to attack the Equestrian left. Remember, speed is the key: I doubt we can outmatch Armor in individual strength or skill, so we have to overwhelm them now before they can bring more units to the field.” “Yes, My Lord!” The courier sped off. Cocoon stared grimly at the bright streak of red sitting opposite his right flank. Behind it, he could see more units slowly marching up. He had to attack the Equestrian left now. If he broke them, all well and good. As well as the obvious tactical benefits, doubtless the defeat of the units responsible for their victory at Valneigh would also shake Equestrian morale. Even if he didn’t break them, he’d still sent nearly twice their numbers against them. The ponies would take casualties, and Armor would have to shift battalions to reinforce his left, thus weakening his centre for Cocoon’s decisive attack. *** “Sir! Looks like the Changelings are moving!” Neigh brought up his binoculars. Sure enough, Changeling columns of march were starting to move, and artillery teams were pulling guns ahead of them. They were huge, unwieldy things; easily twice the bore of an Equestrian 12-pounder, but their intelligence did not suggest that that meant they were superior weapons. “Very well, gentlestallions, this is our moment,” he said sharply. “Deploy your ponies into line. Keep at least a battalion in column for counterattacks. Cuirass, refuse your right so the Changelings will have to expose a flank to the Guards if they try to outflank us. Got it?” “Yes sir!” Brigadier Generals Sword Knot and White Cuirass saluted and galloped off to their brigades. “Major Sun, are your gunners ready?” Major Yellow Sun commanded No. 15 Battery and was Neigh’s liaison with the three other batteries deployed with the 3rd Division. “Give the order, sir, and not a single Changeling will reach your lines.” “Well, I won’t have you take all the credit again!” laughed Neigh. “Then I’ll make sure we leave some for you, sir!” Sun saluted smartly and galloped off to his batteries. Neigh took a deep breath, seized the hilt of his Pattern 987 Officer’s Sword and drew it with a flourish. It was a tough, simple sword with a strong guard and blade, built to cut and thrust equally well. Most officers decorated their swords with gold filigree and inlays, but Neigh had no time for that. But for his name and the Royal Cypher on the blade, it was unadorned and was made purely to kill. He waited until the drums had stopped and his ponies had swung from columns of march into line. Holding his spadroon high, he galloped to the front of his division. “SOLDIERS!” he bellowed. “Our time is now! It is an honour to fight alongside you! Let Chrysalis rue the day she ever crossed swords with us! Let any Changeling who sees the flash of our spears today shake in fear when he remembers their invasion of Canterlot!” From the Grenadier Company of the Trottingham battalion on the right to the Light Company of the Royal Fillydelphias on the left, a thunderous cheer rose from the red-uniformed ranks. Officers held their cocked hats high. Soldiers shook their spears. Neigh grinned. His division was with him. “Let every pony here today make themselves, their country, and their comrades proud!” Neigh roared. “BE BRAVE! FOR EQUESTRIA!” “FOR EQUESTRIA!” thundered the division, and at that point, any fear that anypony among them might have felt was gone. *** Cocoon had done all he could in the time he’d had to prepare his army for the realities of spear combat, but it hadn’t been enough. To his credit, his new tactics were innovative, especially given the base he’d had to start from, and the speed at which he’d spread them throughout his army was a testament to the hive behaviour of Changelings, but it still wasn’t enough. His Changelings approached at a trot, their hive mentality keeping them in cohesion. Neigh would later say that this was the only reason so many of them came into spear range. They marched in centuries of one hundred, six ranks deep. This was shallower than the blocky ten ranks they had before against the Lynxes, but even so, it still made them vastly more vulnerable to artillery fire than the three ranks of the Royal Equestrian Army. Yellow Sun’s batteries opened fire at just over one thousand yards. Their 12-pounder guns were set at three degrees of elevation. A storm of solid iron roundshot arced downrange, coming down at a thousand yards to make the “first graze”. From there they bounced off the ground straight up into the first line of Changeling centuries. Entire files disappeared in ghastly clouds of yellow gore. Headless corpses and shattered bodies tumbled backwards. Other Changelings were wounded as bits of horn and bone blasted from their comrades’ corpses struck them as they marched. Dozens fell, buzzing and hissing in agony, clutching pitted hooves to cracked exoskeletons that wept ichor. Then the shells from the howitzers landed, blasting what remained of the lead eighteen centuries to a gory mist. The Changelings’ artillery lumbered forward in response. Their cannon were massive things; ancient iron breechloaders bought in secret from the Dragon Kingdoms, so heavy that they had to be dragged by teams of a dozen Changelings. They left deep ruts in the loam behind them. Twenty-two cannon were wheeled up. Only fourteen of them had a chance to fire: Sun’s gunners had reloaded, and some began counter-battery fire, while the rest continued firing at the follow-up centuries. A few sporadic shots landed short of the Equestrian batteries. At the front of his division, Neigh watched in fascinated horror. With every discharge, his cannon filled the field with smoke and fire. Dozens of Changelings fell with every shot, or a Changeling gun disintegrated into a cloud of shattered metal and igniting powder, and yet still they came. It was like watching something crawling out of Tartarus. There was a crash and screaming somewhere to his right. He looked and hissed in frustration: a lucky Changeling gunner had scored a hit on No. 16 Battery, destroying one gun and reducing another’s crew by half. Five ponies staggered away from the smoking wreck clutching hooves to bleeding legs or flanks. Others lay screaming as medical orderlies raced up to them. Still others lay silently and still. “STAND FAST, MY LITTLE PONIES!” he roared. At four hundred yards, Sun’s guns loaded canister shot. The discharge of every gun was followed by Changelings falling like grass before a mower’s scythe. They were joined by roundshot from each battalion’s two 9-pounder support guns. Finally, at a hundred yards, the gunners loaded grapeshot, and each gun sent a massive expanding cone of eight tennis ball-sized rounds into the approaching line of Changelings. Then the guns retreated through the gaps in the line. It was time for the infantry to get to work. Neigh’s jaw dropped as he saw the Changeling infantry emerge from the smoke. He would later admit that it was the scariest thing he had ever seen in his life: Fanged horrors with slaver running from their jaws down slick black carapaces, wings buzzing, marched towards him. He gripped his sword tighter. He heard someone scream behind him; “BATTALION, BY PLATOONS, FIRE!” In each battalion, fifty ponies fired; then another fifty; then another, until every half-company in had sent a storm of fire downrange. Then the half-company that began the barrage fired again, and a rolling, unending storm of volleys crashed into the advancing Changelings. Neigh was half-blinded by the bursts of magic shooting past him, but he could see the Changelings halting to fire even as dozens of them fell. The lead three ranks dug their claws into the ground and gritted their teeth as magic built around their horns. Then they fired, sending a storm of green energy crashing into the 3rd Division’s ranks. Behind him, Neigh heard ponies scream as they were hit, but not many. Spears were only accurate when fired in massed volleys, and to his relief, he now saw that the same was true for Changeling horns. Now he saw that the back three files of each Changeling century were racing to the front of the formation. They discharged their own horns, and then they charged. “AT THEM!” roared Neigh. Behind him, he could hear the drums and bugles sound the charge. He thrust his sword forward and galloped into the mass of Changelings, followed by thousands of roaring ponies. From above, it looked like a thin red line meeting a thick black cloud. The Changeling centuries might have the advantage of depth of formation when it came to the melee, but those same deep formations had cost them dearly to the Equestrian artillery barrage. Disordered from cannon fire and exhausted from the effort of producing a powerful magical barrage, the Changelings were easy pickings for Neigh’s ponies. Neigh’s soldiers had worked hard all their lives: many of them were solid country lads who had been able to buck an entire tree clean of apples before they were seven, and they brought that same strength to bear on the Changelings. Leaping into the air before they hit the first ranks, they let their spears tear into the enemy below as they descended. From the moment their forelegs connected with the ground, they spun around and bucked their hindlegs into the Changelings in the next rank. Heads and thoraxes shattered and collapsed in geysers of gore as hooves connected. Some Changelings were lucky and their assailants missed. Many of these unfortunates would be set upon by their would-be targets, but there were few of them. All along the line, this happened. A cohort of Changelings on the left of the advance tried to sweep round to attack the right flank of Brigadier General White Cuirass’ 6th Brigade. It found the 2nd Battalion of the 4th (Royal Fillydelphia) Regiment of Hoof bent back at a forty-five degree angle to meet it. Pinned there by the Fillydelphias, the cohort’s flank was exposed long enough for the leftmost battalion of Warding Ember’s Guards Division, the 1st Battalion, 1st Crystal Guard Regiment in its olive green to march up and sweep it from the field. No creature, pony, Changeling, griffon or otherwise, can long spend time in melee combat. To think otherwise is an illusion created by films. The mere effort is so exhausting, physically and mentally, that most fights at blade range break up within a few seconds. It was a testament to the strength of the Changelings’ hive consciousness that they held against Neigh’s division for nearly a minute, but eventually the instinct for self-preservation amid the gore and the screams overwhelmed the pheromones and they broke, buzzing and hissing in panic, galloping away from a now-ragged line of thousands of cheering ponies, and at the centre of it all, Major General Neigh, his sword turned yellow with streaks of ichor and his red uniform flecked with crusted gore. The remnants of three legions staggered back to their starting positions, covered by their surviving artillery. The guns had pulled back to maximum range and were now only able to land a weak barrage in front of the 3rd Division to discourage a pursuit. Lord Cocoon watched, his teeth gritted, as his legions shambled back. The Sixth and Seventh were battered but combat effective, but the Fifth Legion, which had been sent against the 3rd Division to erase the shame of their defeat at Valneigh, was all-but cut in half. Two and a half thousand Changelings had died before Neigh’s division: Eight thousand ponies had seen off nearly fifteen thousand Changelings. It was a mere taste of what was to follow. *** Atop a hillock in the centre of the Equestrian line, Shining Armor watched impassively the aftermath of the engagement on the left. The 3rd Division had fallen back to their starting positions out of artillery range. The plain was dotted with black spots that he knew to be Changeling corpses, as well as, he noted bitterly, the occasional splash of red. Puffs of smoke followed by light bangs rose from the left flank as Yellow Sun’s batteries exchanged fire with the Changeling guns. He noted that the Equestrian rate of fire was roughly twice that of the Changelings. A Pegasus in the white-faced blue dolman of the 9th (Whinnyapolis) Hussars landed with a thump next to him and saluted. Shining returned the salute. “Is Brigadier General Firebolt making any more progress?” “No, sir. She estimates the 12th will need another twenty minutes to form up.” Shining sucked in air through his teeth. Of all his cavalry formations, the 12th Light Brigade had performed the least-well in exercises, but still! It shouldn’t require twenty minutes to form up on a flat plain! “Inform her that every minute she delays is a minute longer for the Changelings to organise a counterattack,” he said sharply. “I will not have our right flank without cavalry support for that long. Do you understand?” “Yes, sir!” The hussar saluted sharply and sped off. Shining took a telescope in his magic and scanned the Changeling line. The morning mist was all-but gone, despite the best efforts of his Pegasi to keep it there as long as possible. Soon he would have nothing to cloak his advance. If Cocoon recognised that one of the two cavalry brigades on his right was disorganised, well, a determined charge by his own cavalry on them didn’t bear thinking about. A successful attack on the 12th would isolate the 7th Brigade anchoring their right flank on the Lynx lair of Quickpaw and allow the Changelings to flank the 2nd Division, which could cause his entire right flank to collapse. It was all he could do not to paw the ground in front of his staff. His nerves were shot through with fear. It was a desperate moment upon which the survival of his army hinged. Come on, Firebolt... *** “No.” “My Lord? But there’s a potential opening on their right! If we can exploit it with our cavalry..!” “We cannot afford such a bold action!” snapped Cocoon, his wings fluttering in consternation. “Our gunners’ fire plans would be completely thrown off, and by the time we altered them it would be too late; the charge would have to go in unsupported, and I’m not sending our cavalry alone against that kind of artillery! You saw what they did to the Fifth!” Disappointment poured from the drone. “We stick to the plan then, My Lord?” “Given their qualitative superiority, it’s the best chance we have,” said Cocoon, a cloud of miserable pheromones surrounding him. Cocoon’s battle order placed all his cavalry – his eight thousand Changelings still strong enough to fly – in the centre of the formation, with the majority of his guns on each side. His infantry held the flanks. When he gave the order, all eight thousand would charge the Equestrian centre behind a massive artillery barrage. The weight and shock of the charge, he hoped, would be enough to break the ponies’ centre and leave their flanks to the mercy of his legions. He had known from the moment he’d formulated the plan that it would be bloody, but the first engagement with the 3rd Division had made it clear that it would be an agonising fight. Well no matter, Cocoon thought resignedly. Chrysalis had another fifty thousand Changelings in the south after this battle; Shining Armor had nothing else. Cocoon and his army were replaceable; Shining Armor’s was not. If the cost of victory here today was his life and all his drones, then so be it. *** “Dame Firebolt reports that her brigade is formed up and ready for battle, sir.” “Good,” said Shining Armor to the hussar. “Stay here and await orders.” Shining Armor turned to face his staff. Aides-de-camp crowded around. A few division commanders, including Neigh, were gathered there, but most had chosen to send delegates or their seconds-in-command. Shining dimly reflected that, though they were well out of artillery range, a single shell at this point could decapitate the entire Royal Army. “Major General Neigh,” he said. “What were the casualties of your division’s engagement?” Everypony was keeping a discreet distance from Neigh. The ruddy Earth Pony was still breathing heavily and his uniform was still streaked with the crusted lifeblood of dozens of Changelings. “One hundred and fifty dead, four hundred and twenty-two wounded,” he said tersely. How would that compare to future losses, Shining Armor wondered? Had Neigh been brave or needlessly aggressive? “Your ponies fought well,” was what he said. “Give them my regards.” “Yes, sir,” said Neigh, smiling. “Now, judging by the first engagement by the 3rd Division,” Shining said to the staff. “Our soldiers clearly possess strength and skill superior to that of the Changelings. We also possess superior guns. Take this down.” Aides and officers hurriedly opened notebooks and hovered pencils over pages, waiting. “Upon the word of the commander,” Shining Armor dictated. “The artillery shall lay down as heavy a barrage as possible upon the Changeling line. All divisions and brigades will advance on the sound of the guns. The 2nd Division will advance and form square to fix the Changeling cavalry, with the 12th Light Brigade and the Life Guards Brigade operating in support. All other units will engage the Changeling line to drive it from the field. Any questions?” “Sir, it will take at least ten minutes for my gunners to pile rounds by their cannon to produce a barrage that heavy,” said General Sir Time Target. “Very good, General. The barrage will begin when you’re ready. Give these orders to your troops. Good luck, my little ponies.” *** “Can’t make head or tail of it, sir.” Lieutenant General Sir Dagger von Steel, commanding officer of the 2nd Division, took the piece of paper from his second-in-command. It had been handed to him by an aide-de-camp before he had flown off to the next unit. On it were his orders. The problem was he had no idea what those orders were supposed to be. It was written in the shorthoof Earth Ponies and Pegasi used since they couldn’t hold pens like Unicorns, and it had clearly been written in a hurry. Steel was no stranger to shorthoof, being an Earth Pony himself, but the aide-de-camp clearly had very bad hoofwriting already, not helped by the time he’d needed to take it down in. “‘You will advance...’” he read, frowning. “...To, do you think? ‘To the sound of the guns and form square to fix the Changeling cavalry, with the 12th Light Brigade and the Life Guards Brigade operating in support.’” “To the sound of the guns?” asked his second-in-command. “What, those guns?” He nodded over his shoulder. Booms and puffs of smoke rose from the Changeling line across the plain as their artillery fired ranging shots. “It can’t be anything else,” said Steel. He frowned across the plain. Batteries of guns flanked the Changeling cavalry. He did not like the look of it. “If we stop and form square on that plain, we’ll be sitting ducks. Their guns will blast us to pieces. We’ll have to meet their cavalry in line and keep moving.” “A line against cavalry, sir?” Steel’s second-in-command looked quite ill at the prospect. “They’ll smash right through us! And even if we stop them head-on, our flanks won’t stand a chance!” “I know, Colonel.” Steel thought for a moment. “There’s a way round it. Give these orders to the division...” *** Inkie Pie lay on her stomach in front of her battery, a sextant pressed to her eye. An abacus sat in the grass next to her. She moved a few beads with a free hoof, and then scribbled the final calculation down in her notebook. She then set down her final flag marker and hurried back to her battery, sitting outside artillery range. She raced between her guns, tearing the pages out of her notebook and passing them to her Sergeants. “Firing solutions,” she said. “Your firing point is the green marker.” She spotted Gunners Powder Smoke and Quick Bolt hoisting rounds from their ammunition wagon to dump by the guns for easy access. She was about to go to help them when she heard the uncertain voice of Lieutenant Star Wing. “Ma’am, is the 2nd Division supposed to be doing that?!” *** Shining Armor dropped his binoculars. He stared in abject horror as the 2nd Division marched, its drums rattling, bugles trumpeting and colours fluttering. Steel was marching eight thousand unsupported infantry into eight thousand Changeling cavalry which had batteries positioned that exposed his flanks to oblique shots! What in Tartarus was he thinking?! His formation made everything worse. There was no possibility for forming square from the way he was marching: He had his two brigades formed in line, one marching a few hundred paces behind the other, the gaps at the flanks closed only by refused half-companies and the pairs of battalion guns from the units on the wings. A determined charge would break right through them. “Orders, sir?” whispered Ration Bag next to him. Shining’s voice came out a croak. “Have the Life Guards and the 12th charge in support of the survivors. I want an artillery barrage across the Changeling cavalry’s line of advance as well.” Even without a telescope, he could see the Changeling cavalry beginning to move: they were gently trotting across the grass, and soon they would take to the air and charge home with lances and claws. And now the batteries they had flanking their cavalry opened up in earnest. The entire 2nd Division was doomed: eight thousand ponies had been marched to their deaths in their first real battle. Shining didn’t know who was responsible, and at the moment he wasn’t really looking to assign blame, but he knew what the consequences would be: Even if he won this battle, his army would be gutted and would be forced to withdraw back over the Macintosh Hills. Support for the war and the army would vanish. There would be no reinforcement, no rebuilding and no counterattack. The Lynxes would be abandoned. And, oh Spirits! What about Celestia?! *** “I WANT THOSE GUNS DESTROYED! NOW!” Inkie Pie’s gunners stared in amazement at her. They had never heard their commander speak so urgently. “But ma’am!” protested Lieutenant Star Wing. “Our orders...” “Lieutenant, if I were a less well-brought-up pony, I would say ‘to Tartarus with our orders’! I don’t know why those ponies are out there, but they need our help, now get this battery up to the fire position and neutralise those guns!” “Yes, ma’am,” whispered Star Wing. Thus did one battery of eight guns begin to engage the forty Changeling cannon on the left flank of their cavalry, nearly a quarter of all the guns the Changelings had in the field. *** Applejack gazed into a vision of Hell. Draconic cannon on either side of her spat fire and smoke, out of which emerged hordes of slavering demons buzzing above the ground. Thundering towards her and her battalion appeared to be nothing more than a solid wall of black, silhouetted against the sky. Then individual details resolved themselves: dead, icy blue compound eyes; shining black carapaces gleaming in the morning sun; crooked horns; light through the holes in their legs; white fangs; the occasional purple helmet; and lances longer than even two of the spears Applejack and her comrades carried. Applejack did not know what kept her marching forward. This wasn’t what light infantry were meant to do! The Princess C’s weren’t supposed to stand in a line and get blasted away like all the other grunts! And marching straight into the cavalry?! Why weren’t they forming square?! “We’re bucked, ain’t we, AJ?” muttered Hayseed Turnip Truck next to her. “Now tha’s jus’ nonsense, Hayseed!” scolded Applejack. She didn’t know why she said that, but as a Lance Corporal, she felt it was her duty to stop talk like that. “Fizzy, Pauldron an’ Steel’ll get us through this!” In the centre of the formation, Brigadier General Sir Rightful Pauldron felt quite similar to Hayseed. He had absolutely no idea what had possessed Shining Armor to order this attack, much less Dagger von Steel to actually agree with it! Then again, he reflected, whatever had possessed them seemed to have gripped him as well. Sword in hoof, he kept marching forward, stealing glances to the left and right to make sure everypony’s dressings were correct. The Changeling cavalry was bearing down on them ever faster, skimming barely an inch above the grass. Judging by the separation between their individual units, Pauldron guessed that they had eleven squadrons charging him; over a thousand cavalry. He and the 3rd Brigade alone outnumbered the Changelings four-to-one, but if the Changelings kept their nerve and got through his fire zone, their lances would smash his formation before his ponies could even get close with their spears. They were getting closer: Five hundred paces; four hundred; three hundred... “PARADE!” he bellowed. “PARADE, HALT!” Along the line, bass drummers ceased playing. Thousands of ponies took three more steps forward before slamming their hooves into the ground. Two hundred paces... “MAKE READY!” Pauldron roared. Four thousands ponies sent a last squib of magic into their spears to ready them for firing. One hundred paces... “PRESENT!” Ninety paces; eighty; seventy; sixty; fifty... “FIRE!” A storm of fire erupted along the line from the centre. On the right of the line, Applejack felt herself shake as she discharged her weapon. None of them had ever heard so many spears being fired at once. And it was incredible. Then the second line fired, and then the third, joined by the thunderous roar of the battalion guns opening up. Applejack blinked to clear her eyes of the astounding flash from so many weapons. The advancing wall of black had vanished before the cloud of fire. Hundreds of Changeling corpses coated the grass amid a forest of dropped lances. What had been a thousand cavalry was now a ragged line of a few hundred Changelings that had completely lost its momentum. They hovered there, dazed and uncertain. And then Pauldron sounded a charge of his own. *** “I don’t believe it.” Shining Armor lowered his binoculars and exchanged glances with General Blackfire. “Nor I, but we can’t assume we’ve won yet.” Shining and his staff had watched in horror as the massive Changeling cavalry force bore down on their troops. They had waited for the entire division to disappear beneath that mass of black. Then a tremendous flash had burst from the line, and then another, then another, and the Changeling squadrons had disappeared beneath a storm of shots. Then Shining Armor had seen something he’d never imagined he’d ever see: the infantry had charged with spearpoints and driven the cavalry from the field. Infantry defeating cavalry in the melee! It was a thing unheard of! “Have our batteries in the centre put down as heavy a barrage as possibly across the Changeling line of advance. Cocoon’s still got enough cavalry for a few more charges yet.” “Sir, the artillery won’t have enough rounds by their guns just yet,” said Ration Bag. “Forget that idea! We can’t leave Steel out there unsupported! And where are those cavalry brigades?!” *** Major General Sir Thunderbird of the Life Guards Brigade stared in disbelief at the runner. “What do you mean, they’re not coming?” “That’s what I was told sir,” said the Pegasus. “Brigadier General Firebolt believes the situation is too dangerous to launch a cavalry attack.” “You mean we’re going in on our own?” demanded Colonel Tornado. “We have no choice,” said Lieutenant Colonel Spitfire. “We can’t leave that division out there on its own.” “But still!” said Tornado. “They have a four-to-one advantage against us! I might be a cavalrypony, Spitfire, but I’m not that mad!” “Spitfire’s right,” said Thunderbird, grimly. He frowned across the plain towards the square of the 2nd Division, wreathed in clouds of powder smoke. “Keep your Cloudsdale Greys on the right: I want those batteries neutralised. And runner; please give my regards to Dame Firebolt, and please tell her that I strongly advise her to shift her plot over here!” *** Standing in front of her regiment, Spitfire took her sword in hoof. “DRAW SWORDS!” A thousand blades flashed white as the Pegasi of the Royal Cloudsdale Greys swept their swords from their scabbards. They were arrayed in a line of two ranks, each of five hundred Pegasi, split into ten squadrons. Near the centre of the formation, Cornet Rainbow Dash gripped her sword tighter. Her whole troop was arrayed around her; her Ponyville friends, and others that she’d met in training. “Good luck, my friends.” And good luck, Applejack, she thought. We’re coming for you. “By the walk!” barked Spitfire. “Walk, MARCH!” A thousand Pegasi began to trot forward. Rainbow Dash felt her heart begin to race. She made a mental check of her equipment. The flat of her sword blade rest against her right shoulder. It was a long, straight Pattern 1004 Heavy Cavalry Sword. It was a crude, mass-produced thing, built for the huge numbers of Pegasi that had swelled Equestria’s cavalry when the Royal Army was established. Heavy and ill-balanced, its brutal blade would hammer through lighter swords and finer techniques. Its mere weight could crush a stallion’s skull. Secured in a leather bag against her flank was the short spear dragoons used when acting as infantry. “The spear is not to be used as a lance!” Spitfire had barked to them in training. “If your target gets in under your thrust, you’ll be stuck with a useless club. Always the sword!” They trotted further across the plain. Soon they would enter the beaten zone of the Changelings’ artillery. “By the flutter!” barked Spitfire. “Flutter, MARCH!” Every pony in the regiment spread their wings and took to the air, their hooves just skimming the dewy grass. They were approaching the Changeling batteries on the left, and the gunners had spotted them. The Changelings were frantically trying to reposition their cannon and load grapeshot, but the guns were far too heavy to move quickly, and their crews had suffered terrible casualties to Inkie Pie’s artillery. Then the bugles in the centre of the line trumpeted and Rainbow thrust her sword forward. “CHARGE!” And with a colossal roar, the Royal Cloudsdale Greys smashed into the Changeling batteries. Spitfire drew first blood with an elegant upwards slash with her sword. A Changeling gun captain collapsed with a long gash across its back. Given the sword’s weight, it was a pretty impressive cut. Rainbow Dash had no time for such balletic swordplay. She brought her sword crashing down in a devastating slash onto a fleeing Changeling gunner. Its head exploded it a cloud of yellow gore and splintered bone. Rainbow let her momentum drag the sword from the Changeling’s skull. It came away with a wet sucking sound: it had cut down to the Changeling’s jaw. Chittering in panic, dozens of Changelings fled from their guns. A few of them desperately fluttered their wings, but even with their conquest of the Lynxes, they still lacked the strength to take flight or take another’s form. They hissed and screeched as swords slashed down on them. Rainbow Dash had lost all sense of her place in the battle. It was just fly and strike. A Changeling tried to raise a gunner’s ramrod to defend itself. Her sword slashed through that and took off its foreleg in a gout of ichor. Her next target was a Changeling officer that charged at her with his head down, aiming to stab her with his horn. Her sword rebounded of its purple helmet with a hollow bong, and a shock ran up her arm. She flew on. She felt drunk. And amazing. Screeching, fanged demons fled in terror from her. Those that dared stand fell before her sword. The battle fever was on her. There was nothing but her, he enemy, that enemy’s blood soaking into the grass, and the next enemy. She felt invincible. And it was awesome. They raced past thirty guns, Rainbow thought. Some were broken wrecks that had already been destroyed by the Royal Artillery. Shattered black corpses of Changeling gunners killed by the bombardment already lay by their guns. Then they were out past the batteries, back in the open plain, with only a dozen or so Changeling gunners still fleeing ahead of them, straight towards squadrons of Changeling cavalry forming up for their next charge on the 2nd Division. To her left, Rainbow could already see the 1st Life Guards Regiment reforming to prepare to charge the Changeling flank. “RALLY TO ME, CLOUDSDALE GREYS! TO ME!” Spitfire roared from the centre of the regiment’s now ragged line. The bugles blew the order to regroup. Grinning, Rainbow turned to face her troop. They were all there, chests heaving, swords notched or streaked with Changeling blood resting against their shoulders. Rainbow looked down at her own uniform. Her sword dripped gore and her right sleeve was yellow to the elbow, soaked through with Changeling ichor. “What are you waiting for?!” she bellowed. “Get formed up! You think gunners were hard enough?! Those are brave Changeling cavalry over there! Let’s go kill them!” *** Inkie Pie breathed a sigh of relief as she saw the Life Guards Brigade charge the guns. That took some pressure of them. They were down to an amber ammunition state, with no sign of any ammunition carts to resupply them. The supply chain was reportedly snarled up with ambulances and medical carts trying to either reach the front or get casualties away from it. She coughed loudly. Sulphurous clouds of powder smoke cloaked their position. Time and again she’d had to dash forward through the clouds to get another firing solution, or get her few Pegasi gunners to flap their wings to dispel the smoke. But it hadn’t been enough and their effectiveness had begun to drop. That had been when a Changeling gunner, either due to rare skill or luck, had scored a hit on C Gun, setting off the cartridge in the barrel and killing Gunner Powder Smoke and Sergeant Brass Barrel, and sending Gunner Quick Bolt to the rear with a bleeding haunch. She heard a thick crack and a yell of pain to her left. As the rest of her gunners turned to look, she galloped past them to the source of the noise. There, Lieutenant Star Wing lay with a hoof pressed to a shrapnel wound in his side, while the rest of the gunners, their faces and uniforms smutty with gunpowder residue, stared in disbelief at their cannon. A wide black crack ran the length of the barrel, from the touchhole to the muzzle. The gun had burst. Inkie couldn’t believe it. These guns had been proofed to the highest standards! She’d made sure to have them checked by the Artillery Train ponies after Valneigh! “What happened?!” “I... I don’t...” stammered the Sergeant. “We... we did everything right!” Roundshot from a Changeling cannon slammed into the ground nearby, kicking up a plume of earth that rained down on No. 1 Battery. We can’t go on much longer, thought Inkie. Where are the rest of our guns?! *** Cocoon stared in disbelief as his cavalry was swept from the field. His cavalry, that had outnumbered the Equestrians four-to-one, had been destroyed by the charge of a single brigade. His last, best hope was gone. That, coupled with that insane manoeuvre by the Equestrian infantry, had smashed open his centre. It was disastrous. The three legions securing his left flank were now completely isolated, and the infantry and cavalry in the centre were now in position to sweep north up his line. Extricating his army from that position would be almost impossible. He had one option left: to force the Equestrians off an offensive posture by putting pressure on another part of their line. That meant a second attack on the Equestrian left. It was a desperate manoeuvre, and even if it succeeded, both armies would be utterly broken at the end of it, but that no longer mattered to him. “I want our entire line right of Maneden to advance. Keep our centre anchored on that lair. Put every gun and cohort we have left into this attack. Either Armor will break here, or we will.” *** “My guns are ready, Your Highness.” And about damn time! “Then proceed, General Target!” ordered Shining Armor. He turned to his aides. “I want a general advance on their entire line! What other cavalry do we have on our right?!” “Just the 12th, sir,” said Crystal Thought. Shining Armor barely managed to resist cursing. “Tell Firebolt she’s to advance to mask the Changeling’s southern withdrawal route. I trust she won’t find that too difficult.” Thunder and smoke erupted from the entire Equestrian line as the Royal Artillery finally opened up its barrage. The time they’d spent piling rounds by their guns had been well spent, Shining saw. The roars of the cannon were incessant and the rain of shot was heavier than anything he’d ever seen before. “Get everypony moving! One final push, and the day is ours!”