//------------------------------// // The Brink of Desolation // Story: Odrsjot // by Imploding Colon //------------------------------// “Hey Snublock!” Floydien grunted. “Stop crowding Floydien with your sailboat flank!” Ebon groaned with ears folded. “My name is not ‘Snublock.’” “Well maybe it should be! Floydien would sneeze you out better!” The elk shrugged his shoulder, knocking the young stallion backwards across the cockpit. “Now move it or massacre it! Floydien needs the utmost room for glimmer glammer!” “Floydien, is there something the matter?” Eagle Eye trotted past Pilate who was seated tiredly at the doorframe to the cockpit. “You seem antsy. Well…” He smiled nervously. “More antsy than usual.” “Then th-that would make it ‘mega-antsy!’” Ebon uttered with a frown as he picked himself up on the top deck. “How come he never shoves you guys around?” “Fellow boomers want Floydien to bullet us to Josho?!” Floydien leaned forward until his muzzle condensed the glass surface of the windshield. “Then that is what Floydien intends to do! Would be failing boomers if he didn’t. Simon included!” “Don’t forget what Belle told us,” Eagle said. “It’s a righteous thing to hurry there, but once we do--” “No need to speak in the future tense, Eagle,” Pilate muttered. “Huh?” Eagle turned and glanced down at the zebra. “Why?” Pilate was rubbing his aching head. “I can practically feel his stubble on my own muzzle at this point.” He winced and glanced ceilingward, his clear eyes narrowing. “We’re almost on top of him.” “Wait…” Eagle gawked. “You mean…” “Hey, boyos!” Props climbed up out of the vertical crawlspace and stood inside the cramped cockpit. “And handsome.” She wiped sweat from her brow and exclaimed, “The manaconduits of the steam array are going haywire! If we keep it up, the entire propulsion system might go kablooey!” “You crawled all the way to the cockpit to tell us that?” Ebon remarked. “Well, something’s interfering with the Jury’s onboard communication system!” Floydien’s red eyes narrowed. “Something… like glimmer most stabby?” “Huh?” Props turned and blinked out the windshield. “Yup!” She smiled crookedly. “That might do it!” “What might do it?” Ebon asked. Eagle was already shuddering. “Blessed Spark…” His ears folded as his eyes twitched upon what he saw before the rest. “We’re there.” The others stood behind Floydien. Those who could see craned their necks to get a good view of the overcast horizon being lit up by random shells. Under the darkness of early morning, several Ledomaritan soldiers marched across the plateau where Seclorum’s compound was situated. The constant shelling to the east had lessened slightly, but every now and then a bright burst of explosives would continually sound out. A cold wind blew across the muddy promontory’s edge, causing the canvas flaps of Seclorum’s massive tent to ripple and sway. The Prime Enforcer himself could be spotted, standing on the very edge of the cliff, gazing across the ravine at the deep trenches winding between Ledomaritan and Xonan forces. His decrepit mane billowed in the wind, his body framed by the metal braces encasing him like a sarcophagus’ framework. After a long period of time, during which he visibly digested the carnage and decay east of his position, he turned around completely and shuffled into the interior of his tent. His retreating figured reflected off a pair of glossy eyes. Josho blinked, staring from afar, and his jaws clenched tighter. The obese stallion slithered back into the supply tent, standing above the two unconscious bodies of a pair of guards he had just whalloped stealthily from behind. Stepping over their writhing figures, he shuffled through an arsenal of mana-powered weaponry stacked towards the edge of the tent. At last, he chose a double-barreled shotgun equipped with crystalline shards of enchanted metal. Taking a deep breath, he cocked the weapon and slinked towards the breezy exit of the tent. “Whelp, it was a good friendship,” he muttered to the air. “Even if it was lousy at times. But you know what they say about all good things, Secchy…” Josho took one breath… two… then charged briskly into the open. He barely escaped notice of a group of wandering guards. Cursing under his breath, he dashed towards a wooden torchpost, waited for another group to march by, and approached the large tent of his target. In mid-stride, however, he shuffled to a stop. His jaw dropped as his pupils shrank, aimed southeast. He wasn’t alone. Several other Ledomaritans had paused whatever they were doing, pivoting southeast as they heard a rising vibration along the overcast horizon. Stallions shuffled out of tents. Nurses peeked out of their MASH units. Generals and officers stood side by side, murmuring in shock. “What… could it be…?” “Why… that’s Fortis’ ship!” “The Lightning Bearer!” “The Lightning Bearer?! What is Fortis doing way out here?” High in the air, glinting with the reflections of distant shelling, the massive airship had arrived. Josho slumped to his knees, shivering all over. “Spark almighty. It’s too friggin’ late…” Dizzaaz Manathen Arcshod stood at the ship’s bow. He looked over the edge, gazing upon the droves of Ledomaritan forces gathered atop and to the west of Seclorum’s jutting plateau. Many of the most valiant soldiers were still stumbling about in the trenches to the east, and all of the Queen’s artillery was pointed toward the Xonan forces on the ground. None of the weaponry was aimed south. The Lightning Bearer’s approach was virtually unchallenged. Arcshod grinned. “Veraatu siel thrien…” He turned and shouted over his shoulder. “Trenna tenduun Xon-Nagu’n! Rehkkuuna lassateen Ledomulien havraan nessu thielen!” The first line of disguised Xonans gave a massive shout. Orders were given from starboard to port, and ponies rushed to their station. The huge guns of the Lightning Bearer swiveled on their metal mounts, pivoting until they aimed at the unguarded flank of the encampment below. Soon, every weapon that the dreadnaught possessed was ready to fire. Arcshod licked his lips. Shells lit up in the distance, highlighting a green sheen to his eyes, a pure hunger for chaos. “Naavaseel, Ledomulien trenna…” Rainbow Dash skirted over a final line of mountains. The world opened up to her, revealing what amounted to an enormous puddle of mud and debris in the middle of the desecrated landscape. She gasped, braking in midair, then hovered, suspended by hyperventilation and nervous twitches. Nearly two kilometers ahead, she saw the Lightning Bearer. It had hovered to a stop over a gray speck of tents and battlements. To the east, a dark ravine stretched, vulnerable to the airship and its looming shadow. “Celestia, forgive me…” She stammered to the frigid winds. A gulp. “I’m too friggin’ late…”