Anypony who has read some of the previous releases of Shadow’s memoirs will note that I’m skipping past some material at this point. There is a very simple reason for that, but one I’ll need to take a moment to explain.
The next section of Shadow’s memoirs is widely believed to be an addition by one of the early editors, rather than an organic part of the memoirs themselves. The rather infamous biographer Noun Verb (yes, that’s seriously his name) had a bizarre fondness for minute details and lots of primary source material, and liked to incorporate all of that into the biographies he edited. The end result being biographies that are completely packed with all kinds of details academic historians love, but which most readers find utterly useless unless you need a fast-acting sedative.
In fairness to Noun Verb, the section he’s suspected of adding was training reports written by Shadow herself, rather than stuff he just made up. However, twenty pages of “The recruits are slowly learning” and reports on minor disciplinary incidents is not especially compelling reading. (Incidentally, though there’s no consensus on it, I suspect Noun Verb was also responsible for the ridiculously detailed parade description in Manehatten).
Thus, I’ve decided to spare you all exposure to the long, dry, and horrendously detailed account of the training regimen for the Canterlot armies. I think the previous chapter was more than enough to give everypony a good idea of how the army was going to be trained, and sadly training montages don’t translate well to written stories. For one thing, there’s no cheesy but oddly inspiring music.
Instead of boringness, I’m including another entry from Dusk’s own memoirs.
Commander Rightly was not happy.
Most ponies would think this was because of all the trouble Polaris had been causing us. Against everypony’s expectations, one of those pampered unicorn nobles was actually proving to be a thorn in our side. Granted, we would shortly learn that he was actually just parroting whatever his advisors told him to say, but even that’s a lot more common sense than one would expect from the unicorn nobility. Conventional wisdom says that they look down on common sense, on account of it being entirely too common for their rarefied tastes.
Instead of marching his army out into the open and letting us destroy it, Polaris had elected to not be an idiot, and was harassing us instead. It was proving annoyingly effective; he might not have done anything to seriously impact our fighting ability, but having occasional patrols and foraging parties disappear or watching any unguarded supply caches go up in flames was a constant annoyance. Doubly so since the unicorns were using magic to evade all our efforts to locate them and respond in kind. It also seemed to be stiffening the spines of the local Loyalists, to the point where some of the earth pony villages were less than accommodating when our forces showed up to liberate them.
If not for the fact that all of our intelligence—or at least the portion of it that I overheard as part of the hetairoi—said that Shadow was still in Canterlot, we would have suspected that she was the one truly leading the army. After all, no unicorn could actually command an army effectively enough to frustrate the brave warriors of Pegasopolis. Naturally there was a great deal of complaining that the unicorns were resorting to dishonorable tactics. What exactly was dishonorable about their tactics was never clear—I suspect the main point of complaint was that they were fighting back somewhat effectively rather than being cut down like wheat to the scythe.
But I digress. Commander Rightly was angry. However, contrary to what one would expect, Commander Rightly’s objection was not to the fact that Polaris was causing our army no end of frustration. Rather, he was complaining because a solution to the problem had finally presented itself. One he did not care for. And so he angrily stalked about Swift Blade’s headquarters in Manehatten, his glares and grumbles making his mood plain enough to any who had eyes and ears. The rest of the Ephorate was in attendance, as well as myself and Lance in our capacities as hetairoi. Nopony seemed especially eager to speak with the Commander, though.
Finally, Commander Rightly turned on Swift and let loose. “When last we spoke on the subject, were we not agreed that working alongside warlocks and other such foul creatures was unacceptable? That we would not seek the aid of Nightmare Moon’s followers?”
“We were.” In contrast to the Commander, Swift Blade sat calmly at his desk in the Chancellor’s Mansion. The Free Earth Pony Provisional Government had not yet selected a successor to Apple Tree, and Swift seemed quite at ease in his new position. Though he was formally only serving as a Pegasopolan liaison to the earth ponies, his influence far outstripped that of a normal ambassador. “However,” Swift continued, “I did not seek their aid, or make any kind of bargain with them. They offered information we needed, and freely. Or would you prefer that we not know the location of Polaris’s army?”
Ephor Cyclone Kicker answered that with a dismissive snort. “Warlocks give nothing for free. You simply do not grasp the price they would demand of you. It is an old tactic: a few small favors given freely, until one becomes accustomed to accepting their aid. Then, once a dependency is established, they begin making their demands.” The blind old stallion snapped his wings shut. “I saw it many times when I served with the mage hunters. My advice, Commander? Execute the lot of them.”
“Execution?” Swift stared at Cyclone, incredulity plain on his face. “With all respect, Ephor, executing ponies who have offered us their friendship hardly seems like a sensible course of action. ‘Twill be rather difficult to persuade any unicorns to join with us if we execute the first skilled magi who offer to enlist in our cause.”
“Working with the dark arts will drive away far more unicorns than we could ever gain,” Cyclone countered. “Further, those few who would join us under those circumstances would be of the worst sort. Criminals and scum.”
“Which makes ‘warlock’ a very useful label for the Sun Tyrant to apply to her enemies within Unicornia, neigh?” Swift let out a disbelieving snort. “They may be criminals under Celestia’s laws, but so are we. There is not e’en any proof of wrongdoing on their part, beyond their participation in an organization outlawed by the very same mare who has declared us outlaws.”
“They are warlocks,” Cyclone declared. “That is proof enough.”
As the two ephors debated, Mother approached Lance and I, her voice dropping to a whisper. “The Commander will shortly ask for Steel’s opinion and my own. ‘Tis his way. I would have thy thoughts first.”
“Ephor Kicker has the right of it,” Lance instantly responded. “Nothing good can ever come of consorting with those who would call upon the dark arts. They are criminals, and should be dealt with as such. Especially if we are to convince the rest of Equestria that we stand for righteousness and the preservation of our traditional freedoms.” Lance frowned, and shook her head. “I would e’en say that we should find some means of contacting the Solars, and warning them that they’ve a traitor in their midst. Dishonorable tactics have no place on the battlefield.”
“I think forewarning the enemy might be too generous, dear child.” Mother offered her an approving smile. “Still, thy honor does thee credit.”
“You see what comes of mating with a Doo, Mother?” I turned to Lance, an easy grin on my face. “You have produced a mare who is constitutionally incapable of speaking a full sentence without mentioning honor at least once.” I shifted my voice to an imitation of my sister’s. “I shall now brush my mane—with honor! Then I shall eat my bread—with honor!”
Lance offered me an unamused glower. “Mind thy rear, brother.” A moment after she spoke the warning, her wing cuffed the back of my head.
I took the blow in stride. “Attacking somepony from behind. Hardly honorable behavior, sister.”
“I warned thee first,” she answered with a faint smile. “That thou didst fail to defend thyself properly is entirely thine own fault.”
Mother looked between the two of us, mirroring Lance’s smile. “If the two of ye are quite done bickering, I still have not heard Dusk’s thoughts on the matter.”
Ere I answered her, a rather interesting thought struck my own mind, which I shortly gave voice to. “I wonder if matters are e’en entirely as they seem. Warlocks approaching us, in possession of the information we need. It could easily be a trap of some sort. Or a matter of politics within the enemy; I believe ‘tis known that the old vizier, Sunbeam, is an enemy of this Polaris, neigh? And a ruthlessly unscrupulous mare as well. ‘Twould be just like her to use us to eliminate one of her foes, and also blacken the name of our own cause by fooling us into associating ourselves with warlocks.”
Mother offered me a slight nod at that. “An intriguing theory, Dusk. One that may, in fact, bear further investigation.” Mother turned her back on my sister and I, then cleared her throat to draw everypony’s attention. “If I might suggest a compromise, Commander? Let us simply imprison the suspected warlocks until such time as we can properly determine their guilt or innocence of any true crimes. ‘Twill give us ample time to investigate the matter at our leisure without giving the appearance that we are in league with questionable forces. And ‘twill also give us ample time to verify the information we have received from these ponies.” Mother turned to Swift, and frowned. “For all we know, these warlocks could be agents of Celestia attempting to lead us into a trap.”
Ephor Striker offered a single nod. “Reasonable.”
Rightly looked between Cyclone and Swift, and judged them to be equally unhappy with Mother’s suggestion. Most would say that was a sign that she had struck a fitting compromise between the two. He offered Mother a nod of his own. “‘Tis agreed, then. These warlocks Swift claims have aided him will be imprisoned until such time as a proper trial can be arranged.” The Commander turned to Swift, and fixed him with a disapproving glower. “As for thee ... I think Manehatten suits thee. Do not expect to join us in the field, until such time as I am convinced that there will be no further lapses in judgment on thy part. Do not repeat this mistake, if thou art fond of thy place in the Ephorate.” (1)
1: Unsurprisingly, considering how pegasus warrior pride works, sticking Swift Blade in a rear-area administrative job far from the battlefield is an extremely harsh punishment. Even though his talents lay in logistics, pegasus leaders were expected to fight on the frontlines with their clans. In the eyes of Pegasopolis, if you didn’t lead from the front, you weren’t a real leader.
The other Ephors filed out of the room, with my sister and I accompanying them. We left Swift to his shame in Manehatten. In hindsight, that was a mistake.
Two days later, Commander Rightly led a force of two divisions out of Manehatten. Not enough to cripple us if ‘twas a trap, but large enough to have three pegasi for every unicorn if the warlocks’ estimate of the Loyalist numbers was accurate.
We arrived at an empty stretch of barren farmland halfway between Manehatten and Fillydelphia. Or at least, the area appeared to be naught but empty, unoccupied farmland. However, we had been forewarned of the reasons for that. All manner of spellwork, primarily a combination of traditional illusions combined with subtle suggestions that there was absolutely nothing of interest in the area. Several patrols had passed o’er the area previously without incident.
However, such spellwork was of little use once the enemy’s location was already known. Such has always been the greatest weakness of subtle magics: compulsions powerful enough to drive away those who knew of the camp’s location would have been far more noticeable.
Now, we made ready for battle. I will confess that I was in the grip of considerable anxiety on the eve of it. Though I had trained and served in the Long Patrol, this would be the first time I raised my weapons ‘gainst a pony. Well, beyond sparring matches, the odd scuffle with my fellow pegasi, and my brief stint playing at gendarme while in Manehatten. Certainly nothing on the scale of a mass battle ‘gainst an army of other ponies. Though it shames me to admit it, on the eve of battle I was afraid. Not to the point of fleeing the field of battle, but there was a cold dread in my heart.
I think what truly troubled me was one of the first lessons I received from my mother. Each of the three pony tribes has a place in the world: the earth ponies' farm, the unicorns attend to all the magical crafts, and the pegasi fight. To be born with wings is to be a guardian, a protector of ponykind. But now ‘twas no longer so. Though I had long heard that we went to war to protect all ponykind ‘gainst the crimes of the Sun Tyrant, it sat ill with me to think that I would shortly be attempting to skewer one of the ponies I’d sworn to protect.
Rather than spend all the time ere the battle began polishing my armor and checking my lance, I wandered the camp. I did not have any particular destination in mind, and shortly found myself among the chirurgeons. Though the magic of unicorns is a great aid in the medical arts, the other pony races are not ignorant of it. Pegasopolis would be a poor warrior society if we had no means of treating our own wounded.
Given my location, ‘twas only natural that I sought out Dawn. I have always been especially fond of her, out of all my siblings. I suspect her gentle nature played a part of that; as an elder brother, ‘twas my duty to look to her safety. I would almost wonder at how Mother could produce a daughter who had nothing of a warrior’s ways about her, were it not for those rare moments when Mother could act as a parent rather than the proud warrior queen of our clan.
Dawn carried Mother's features, and her mane as well, though her eyes were the wrong color. In truth, were her coat orange rather than the ashen grey she likely inherited from her sire, I might be forgiven for thinking her Mother given new form. The resemblance only extended to the physical, though; where Mother wore her confident eagerness before all but her children, Dawn's disquiet was poorly hidden. 'Tis not to call my sister a mare who would shirk her duties—far from it—but those duties weighed heavily upon her.
She looked up from a pot where she was boiling linens in preparation for the coming battle, and favored me with a smile. “Dusk.” She stepped forward and offered me a brief nuzzle. “I am glad to see thee, brother.”
“And I thee, dear sister.” I returned the gesture with equal affection. “I trust thou art well? Much as I enjoy spending time with thee, I do hope that I will not have need of thy services after the battle’s ending.”
“I pray that it does not come to pass.” Dawn took one of my hooves, squeezing it. “May I make a confession to thee, brother?”
I favored her with a grin. “If ‘tis a confession regarding that young clanless stallion I have seen thine eyes lingering upon, I am already quite aware of it. And I am, of course, already in the process of making plans with Lance for his swift and painful demise.”
“Dusk!” Dawn’s cheeks pinked at my proclamation. “Nothing of the sort has happened!” She ducked her head, softly grumbling under her breath as she struggled to regain her composure. “Thou art the most terrible of brothers, and sometimes I struggle to recall why I love thee so dearly.” She took a deep breath, and a smile returned to her face. “Yet I am pleased to see thee, despite thy jests. In truth, I had thought to confess that I was fearful of the coming battle, but thy presence here has already calmed me. If thou art so fearless as to play the jester ere we go into battle, then I shall be brave too.”
My sister’s words stiffened my resolve far more effectively than a simple reassurance could have. The normal platitudes about bravery’s place on the field would have done little to dispel my own fears, for I had heard them dozens of times before. My sister’s admiration was a far more effective solution. If I gave her bravery, then ‘twould not do to seem less than worthy of playing the part.
“Fear not, sister. I will protect thee.” I offered her a final embrace, then parted company with her. ‘Twould not do to be absent from my place in Commander Rightly’s hetairoi.
An hour later, I stood at Sierra Doo’s side along with the rest of the hetairoi. The Commander had our forces ready to begin the attack and so far as we had been able to determine, the enemy did not yet know of our presence. The very secrecy they relied upon to keep them hidden from us now worked ‘gainst them. They had no forward perimeter or scouting patrols, for either of those would have made their discovery far more likely. Until we pierced the veil hiding their camp, they were as blind to our presence as we had been to theirs. If there were detection spells outside the illusion, then either Cyclone’s forces found some way to undo them or the warlocks within the camp had sabotaged the spells. A few enemy units had exited the veil or returned from prior raids since our arrival, but thus far we had succeeded in neutralizing them ere they could warn the main base of our impending attack.
Still, the attack would need to begin quickly. ‘Twould not be long ere one of our scouts was spotted, one of the enemy eluded us, or the absence of forces due to return aroused suspicion. E’en with our camp being cloudborne, the unicorns would have to be fools indeed if they did not look to the skies. It had taken just over two hours to move all our forces into position after the flight. Already the Commander feared that we might have lost the element of surprise, but attacking whilst our ranks were still in disarray might well have proven disastrous. E’en if the enemy were forewarned, we had the advantage of numbers.
I was not present for the battle’s commencement, as my place was at Commander Rightly’s side. Unlike Mother, Commander Rightly did not insist on accompanying the vanguard into battle. ‘Twould see that he preferred to hold back and view the battle’s development, then commit himself, his clan, and the hetairoi to the battle’s decisive point. He judged piercing enemy lines or blunting an assault more important than being first into the fray.
Thus, I had the pleasure of sitting back and watching as the battle began. The illusory veil protecting the camp was undone, though whether by treachery from within or the efforts of our mage-hunters I know not. Cyclone’s Kickers and those others of our numbers with mage-hunter training lead the charge alongside Mother, closing with the enemy ere they could e’en begin to mount an effective defense.
My contemplation of the battle was rudely interrupted by my younger brothers. “A pity we cannot join the fray.” Thunder and Flash, the twins. Both were stupid, arrogant, and hot-headed—especially when in one another’s company. Each was prone to encourage the other to new heights of foolishness. I have heard it said that their personalities were much like Mother’s in her youth, ere foalbirth and responsibility tempered the fire in her heart with wisdom and experience.
“I am quite content to remain above the field with the lightning artillery for now.” I gestured to the nearby stormclouds and their attendant pegasi. Already they were hard at work, lashing the enemy camp with bolt after bolt of electricity. “Our duty is to Commander Rightly, and he remains here to observe the battlefield as a whole. If thou dost object to that, mayhaps thou couldst attempt to persuade Mother that four of her children in the hetairoi is a touch excessive.” In truth, I suspect Mother had placed them in the hetairoi in the hopes that they would learn a measure of discipline.
“There is no glory or renown to be had in watching other ponies do battle,” Thunder groused.
“Aye, how are we to demonstrate our valor if we do not have the chance to slay any unicorns?” Flash agreed.
Sierra, at my side as befit her place as my wingmare, rolled her eyes and grumbled under her breath. “Young stallions. Always so desperate to prove themselves...”
“As a stallion who has only recently ceased being young myself, I might choose to take offense at that remark.” I offered Sierra a smile to take any condemnation out of the words. “Though I should like to think I was ne’er so brashly foolhardy as they are.”
“Neigh.” Lance glanced back at me, the ghost of a smile playing across her lips. “Thou wert far worse, in thy time.”
While Sierra enjoyed a laugh at my expense, I turned my eyes once more to the battlefield. Though the unicorns had already begun to rally, a fatal blow had been struck in the battle’s opening minute. One of the great strengths of magi is their ability to bring powerful magic to bear at a distance. In close quarters, their options were far more limited, unless they were prepared to risk killing their own alongside our forces. Their efforts in reestablishing a strong front line were further hampered by the efforts of our lightning artillery, which struck mercilessly at any concentrations they could find.
Our stormclouds spotted a particularly large group rallying near the center of the enemy camp and let forth ‘gainst them. This time, however, the attack did not have the desired effect. The lightning lashed out towards them, but halfway to its intended destination the bolts turned and reversed their course, tearing into the very ponies that had unleashed them. As the lightning tore into our ranks, a single unicorn with a copper coat stood out from among the mass of the enemy, his horn glowing brightly.
Commander Rightly saw him as well. “So, ‘twould seem the archmagi have entered the field.” There was a grimness to his tone that foretold what his next order would be. “We had best see to them before they can rally the unicorns and make this any bloodier. With luck, removing the archmagi will break their will, and they will lay down their arms.” Rightly sighed, and gave a shake of his head. “Mayhaps e’en persuade some that Celestia’s cause is hopeless, and wisdom dictates returning to our side.”
‘Twas not hard to guess at the mare who occupied his thoughts, but nopony was so foolish as to speak her name. I thought it a vain hope, though. The stubborn pride of Pegasopolis ran deep in Shadow Kicker; she would likely die ere she accepted surrender.
“Commander,” Lance warned, holding a lens to her eyes. “I can only account for three of the Archmagi. ‘Tis possible that a trap awaits, or that they are engaged in some magical artifice. I would advise caution.”
“Mother has likely already accounted for the two missing Archmagi.” Thunder suggested with a smirk.
Personally, I had another theory: the traitor within the unicorn ranks had been in a position to tell us of their location some time in advance. Unless the unicorns were utter fools, they would have moved their camp regularly to minimize the risk of discovery. That suggested that whoever had betrayed them was a pony of sufficient rank to know the army’s future plans—such as one of the archmagi. ‘Twould certainly explain the absences.
If I were to judge by the scowl on Rightly’s face, the same had occurred to him. “Whate’er the case may be, take prisoner any unicorn who does not resist us, and defeat those who do.” Rightly took a deep breath, then hoisted his lance. “For Pegasopolis and Equestria! Duty to our last!”
“We lead the charge!” I roared alongside my siblings, whilst the other hetairoi offered the battle cries of their own clans. As we took to the air and began our charge, I could not help but note the irony of the fact that we were entering the battle quite some time after its beginning, and that Commander Rightly was in fact leading our charge. Though I suppose, ‘We follow behind the Commander once ‘tis tactically prudent to enter the fray’ would not be an especially inspiring battle cry.
I am sure we made a very impressive sight, charging down from the clouds towards our enemies. Unfortunately, we also presented a very obvious target for the enemy, and a high-priority one given that we were striking directly for their leaders. Thankfully, the hetairoi bear the best armor, rather ironically enchanted by the very magi we now fought ‘gainst. Many of us had also taken the liberty of applying a few plates of cold iron on top of our normal gear, given our likely foes. ‘Twould not protect as well ‘gainst magic as a proper suit of cold iron, but it did not render us vulnerable to proper weapons as armor solely of cold iron would. However, the added weight was a notable hindrance, though one that did not o’erly burden us on the downward charge.
Thus, the fireballs and energy blasts of the magi had little effect as we descended ‘pon them. To be sure they still took a toll, but not nearly enough to break our charge. Thunder let out a triumphant cry as a beam of magical energy deflected off his armor, while Flash shouted down a taunt at the mages. “Is this all you can conjure, unicorns? Thy spells are like a gentle rain ‘pon my helmet!”
Unfortunately, the magi—or at least one among their number—were capable of far more than simply trying to destroy us with brute magical force, especially once ‘twas clear direct attacks would not reduce our numbers in time to break the charge. A pulsing shriek like that of a banshee hammered into me, and I had not possessed the foresight to cover mine ears in cold iron.
Though I suffered no wounds other than bleeding of the ears, the spell’s actual effects were far more insidious. The blast of sound briefly made it all but impossible for me to distinguish left from right or up from down. Though I was only disoriented for a few brief moments, that was more than enough time to thoroughly trouble me when I was in the midst of a diving charge.
I crashed to the ground, my lance thoroughly ruined by the impact, though ‘twas at least still a passable club. However, I had a far greater concern, for I had struck the earth entirely too close to a unicorn soldier. I was in a rather poor state to defend myself as he approached, a hammer lifted high over his head, and the triumphant smile on his face making it all too clear he intended to shortly introduce the hammer to the contents of my skull. Ere he struck, he made a fatal but all too common mistake: he paused to gloat. “Any last words, rebel scum?”
Though I was in no state to block the strike, my eyes turned to the sky, and I met the unicorn’s smile with one of my own. “Aye, I have words, though not my last. After this battle, I think I shall make an effort to kiss my wingmare.”
The unicorn very briefly wore a confused frown, until Sierra Doo’s lance made matters much clearer for him. Sadly, he did not have a chance to speak with me on the matter, on account of being rather dead. Sierra pulled me back to my hooves, quickly searching me for injuries. When she found none, she let out a satisfied grunt. “I would not lose a wingpony. Though if thou dost ever make an attempt to kiss me, I might revise my opinion on the matter.”
Though I would not truly have pursued a married mare, I could not let that remark pass unanswered. “I think 'twould be worth the price. For who wishes to grow old and feeble without knowing the lips of a comely mare?” A moment later I lashed out with the remnants of my lance, catching a unicorn who had been attempting to threaten Sierra’s flanks. The unicorn staggered back, a hoof flying to his wounded skull. Sadly, broken lances are not terribly dangerous when used as improvised clubs, so I had not e’en wounded him enough to do more than briefly delay the threat. “Though perhaps we should defer further discussion on the matter for a better time?”
“‘Twould be prudent.” Sierra agreed, turning her back to mine so that we could face the enemy together. We had unfortunately landed some distance away from the rest of the hetairoi, and entirely too close to many angry and well-armed unicorns.
I shoved the splintered remains of my lance into the throat of the first unicorn who approached me. I suppose ‘twould have been proper to say that I still recall his face and regret the first pony I e’er slew, but in truth I had far too many other concerns at the moment to devote any time to him. The entirety of my mind was far too focused on surviving for the next few moments for guilt to have any place in it.
Though we held the unicorns at bay for a time, we scored no more telling wounds ‘gainst them. I recognized their tactics well enough from my own time in the Long Patrol. We were surrounded, so they harried us, taking no risks and forcing Sierra and I to exhaust ourselves defending ‘gainst strikes from all angles. No sooner had I blocked one blow than another threatened my opposite flank. Needless to say, they pressed us far too closely for Sierra and I to consider flying from the field. ‘Twas a method I had used more than once ‘gainst monsters whom I now felt a sudden and most unwelcome sympathy for.
Ere the unicorns could wear us down and finish us, we faced a new threat. A small blast of lightning came from within the ranks and struck Sierra’s armor. At first I thought the attack had failed, until a moment later when my armor suddenly trebled in weight. ‘Twould appear that either my cold iron plates had been dislodged in my rough landing, or the magus had skill enough to strike one of the many areas the cold iron did not cover. Whate’er the case, I could hardly fight when the very armor I wore pulled me down to the earth. As I fell, I noted that Sierra fell with me, her armor seeming attached to my own so firmly that it might as well have been forged a single whole piece.
The unicorns closed on us, and several raised their weapons. However, ere they could finish us, a commanding voice rang out. “Stay thy blades, we need them alive.” The same magus who had turned our own stormclouds ‘gainst us strode out of the crowd. Now that he was closer, I could clearly see the markings ‘pon his robe that identified him as an archmagus—of the eastern march, to be specific. “Prisoners are of more use to us than corpses.”
Though I would not have dishonored myself by surrendering, my current state rendered me all but helpless to dispute it other than with words, for I was trapped within the very armor that should have protected me. Sierra seemed to fare no better than I. Regardless of whether we offered a formal surrender, ‘twas plain to see that we were indeed prisoners.
“I suppose I should not be surprised that thou art indeed my doom,” Sierra complained, struggling to free herself of her own armor.
I could have wailed and carried on about our lamentable fate at being captured, but in truth I was somewhat relieved. Given that the unicorns had little hope of winning the day, we would likely be rescued soon enough. And e’en if we were not, ‘twould not do to show fear to our enemies. “‘Tis not as bad as all that, dear Sierra,” I attempted to reassure her. “For my part, I had always hoped that I might die lying next to a comely mare.” Admittedly, I had always intended those dreams to come to fruition many, many years hence, and in a comfortable cloud bed rather than lying in the dirt of a battlefield. “Fortune, it seems, is a fickle wench with a foul sense of humor.”
Sierra seemingly grasped my own thought, and continued with it. “Thou art hardly in a position to complain of anypony making a poor jest. I ne’er knew thy mother had sired a foal with a troubadour. Wilt thou sing a song for me, ere we die?”
I confess, the image of my sire singing was entirely too much for my o’erstressed mind, and I threw back my head and roared in laughter. As I did so, I noted the unicorns surrounding us offering one another nervous, uncertain looks. I have often found that mocking opponents in the superior position can induce fear and uncertainty, for it makes them wonder if they are less secure than they think.
However, as I was shortly reminded when one of them interrupted my laughter by introducing my face to his hoof, it could also aggravate one’s enemies considerably. The blow did prove far less bothersome than it might have, for it turned my head to angle that allowed me to lay eyes on a most welcome sight. Moments later, my elder sister announced herself. “Archmagus! Lance Charger, Captain of the Hetairoi, challenges you to single combat!”
“Lance.” I smiled up at her as best I could. “Thou art late. Sierra has already rescued me.” I glanced back at my wingmare. “Admittedly, her results left something to be desired. The effort was still appreciated, though.”
Lance and the archmagus both paid me no mind. Thankfully, the unicorn soldiers seemed inclined to respect her challenge, for the moment. The lightning mage stepped forward, looking warily to my sister. “What terms would you offer for the duel?”
Lance’s eyes briefly turned to me. “The battle goes badly for you, Archmagus. Unicornia’s forces are in disarray, and the Commander has likely already made Polaris his prisoner. I offer terms that reflect this reality: if I am the victor, you and your forces will surrender yourselves into honorable captivity, and release any prisoners you have. If you are the victor, I offer you my word of safe conduct from the battlefield. Should I perish, my brother will see it done.”
Well, I would certainly attempt it. I was less than certain that I could persuade Mother to let Lance’s killer walk free, regardless of any oaths given.
The Archmagus considered his situation, but not for long. “I am Copper Spark, Archmagus of the Eastern March, and I accept your challenge.” As Lance had said, his position was distinctly unenviable. There was little reason for him to refuse the duel; e’en if he lost, he would be no worse off than if he simply surrendered now, presuming he survived the contest with Lance. Meanwhile, victory offered him the very real chance of escape. Objectively, Lance should have offered less generous terms. However, given that she had requested this duel in order to save me from unicorn captivity, I was not inclined to question her judgement.
The spell pinning myself and Sierra to the ground lifted, but no sooner had I risen from the ground than I found the unicorns closing ‘round the two of us and bearing us back as the troops formed an impromptu dueling circle. Though the scene was at first dominated by the unicorns, ‘twas not long ere pegasi began arriving to bear witness as well. (2)
2: These sorts of ad-hoc duels were a fairly common feature of warfare in this era, as it was considered proper for high ranking officers to battle one another rather than simply letting the common soldiers handle the task.
Our forces and theirs formed an impromptu dueling ring about the two, enclosing them within a relatively tight battlefield. Lance might have preferred having more room to maneuver, but—by the same token—the magus likely would have appreciated being able to cast his spells from a safe distance. I judged the enclosure to not especially favor either combatant.
Thankfully, there were other means by which I might grant my sister some small advantage. Ere the combatants took their places, Lance flew to my side to ask after my condition. Though I was well enough, I did not waste the opportunity to offer a few quick words of warning. “His lightning is potent on its own, but the true danger comes from another of his spells. I do not know the full of it, but it draws metal to metal. ‘Tis most unpleasant.”
Rather than gratitude, Lance met my warning with a scowl. “Hold thy tongue, Dusk. I will not have an unfair advantage in this duel.” She let out an annoyed snort, then turned her back on me.
To my immense dismay, she then stepped forward to meet the magus. “Sir, I have just been given foreknowledge of your spells. As compensation, I will allow you to use your magnetic spell ‘pon me with no resistance, as would have been the case if it had taken me unawares. Do you judge this fair compensation for the infraction?”
My sister is noble. My sister is a paragon of Pegasopolan virtue. My sister is an idiot.
A faint smile crossed the magus’s face, and he nodded to my sister. “More than fair. Shall we begin?” As soon as my sister signalled her own readiness, he employed that very spell. Unlike with myself and Sierra, there was no nearby partner for her to adhere to. Instead, he simply drove her to the ground, increasing the weight of her armor far beyond what any pony could carry in flight. “Yield,” the mage advised her. “Your valor is admirable, but you wore metal armor to battle ‘gainst a master of lightning. Victory was ne’er possible, so there is no shame in admitting defeat.”
Lance groaned, straining ‘gainst the sudden, massive weight she bore. Slowly, inexorably, she moved her legs, struggling to set all her hooves to the ground. “I will not yield.” She planted all four of her hooves on the ground, and began pushing ‘gainst her own armor’s weight. “I am a warrior of Pegasopolis; I do not yield to any foe of Equestria.” She let out a massive shout of effort as she applied her full strength to the simple effort of rising to her hooves, the muscles in her legs bulging while her wings frantically beat at the air, providing whatever lift they could to aid her.
At first, the archmagus remained calmly confident, content to let my sister exhaust herself attempting to o’ercome his spell. That arrogance swiftly vanished when Lance actually managed to rise a short distance off the ground. That first inch seemed the hardest for Lance to manage, though I am unsure whether ‘twas due to the nature of the spell, or if her success in resisting it shook the magus so badly that his spell faltered.
He did not let her rise unmolested. His horn glew brighter, and fresh sweat beaded on his brow as he strained to keep her in place with his spell. Despite his efforts, Lance continued. Soon it seemed that his spell required as much of him as my sister’s struggles did of her. Once ‘twas clear that the spell would not suffice by itself, he resorted to less sophisticated tactics, rising up on his hind legs, then slamming his hooves down on her shoulders. The blow drove my sister to the ground, but moments later she was once more struggling back to her hooves. The magus struck her once more. “Desist. You cannot win.”
“Then why am I not yet beaten?” My sister responded. When next she rose and the magus attempted to pound her to the ground once more, she lashed out with one of her forelegs. One of her armored hooves caught his front knee, causing the joint to bend backwards in a way nature had not intended. The magus staggered back, clutching his wounded limb to his chest, and my sister finally regained her hooves.
The archmagus quickly gained what distance he could from Lance, though his mobility was greatly hampered by the effective loss of one of his limbs and the impromptu dueling circle. He answered Lance’s blow by lashing her with his lightning, arcs of electricity hammering into my sister with such intensity that I was truly amazed that she survived it. Logic would say ‘twas likely due to the cold iron plates ‘pon her armor protecting her, but at the time it seemed something far different. That for all the lightning the magus poured into her, Lance resisted his attack with sheer fortitude and strength of will. (3)
3: It’s also worth mentioning that pegasi tend to have a higher natural resistance to electricity than the other pony breeds, likely as a result of our natural affinity for weather magic. Plus, turning the pegasus lightning artillery against them probably took a lot of power out of him, while Lance was still fairly fresh. I would also imagine Copper was trying very hard to get a surrender out of Lance, especially if he shared Dusk’s doubts about Bright Charger letting him leave, promise or not.
Still, the duelists were at a standstill. It took all that Lance had to simply remain standing and endure the archmagus’ onslaught, while the magus himself applied his full strength to attacking her. However, there was one critical difference ‘tween the two. ‘Twas a subtle thing, but the longer Lance endured, the wider the archmagus’ eyes grew, and the more sweat poured down his face as he strained to continue his assault. ‘Twas plain that he had not expected to meet anypony who could endure the full force of his magic, and the longer she did so the more fear took root in his heart.
I do not know whether ‘twas fear or simple exhaustion that made his spell falter. ‘Twas only for a brief moment, but that was all Lance required to close the distance so that the weapon for which she was named hovered a hair’s breadth away from the mage’s chest. The nearness of the threat drove the archmagus to new heights. This time he struck not by increasing the weight of her armor but by tightening it around her until the edges of her plates cut into her flesh.
‘Tween that and his continued electrical attacks, he succeeded in driving Lance to her knees. ‘Twould seem e’en my sister’s impossible strength had its limits. His lightning bolts coursed across her armor, causing her limbs to spasm in response. The sharp stench of ozone was thick in the air, and I could see the smoke curling from Lance’s body as the assault continued. His eyes flicked down to her weapon, and with a flash he tore the metal spearhead from its wooden shaft, leaving her with naught but a length of wood ending in a jagged, broken tip.
And yet, despite that, Lance continued forward, somehow managing to force her wildly twitching limbs to slowly carry her nearer her enemy. The magus tried to back away from her but soon he found himself constrained by the circle of ponies watching the combat. To his misfortune, his back was to our own lines, and my fellow pegasi were not inclined to make room for him to retreat further.
The unicorn attempted to move to the side, going around Lance to buy himself more maneuvering room. However, his wounded leg failed him at a critical moment, causing him to briefly stumble, and for a moment his assault on my sister ceased as his lightning flew wild. ‘Twas all the opening Lance needed, and the splintered end of her spear bit into the mage’s flesh. The wound was not especially deep, but it was still a telling one. Judging by what I had seen during my years of service, chest wounds had a clear tendency to make it rather difficult for a magus to concentrate on their spellcasting.
The pain of Lance’s strike seemed to shock the magus into a final desperate effort. His magic lashed my sister once more, this time carrying her into the air and blasting her away from him. However, e’en as the blow fell his strength waned, and his knees buckled as he brought a hoof to his wounded chest. For some time both combatants remained at a distance, both struggling to press forward through their respective injuries. However, where Lance slowly recovered from the lightning that had lashed her flesh, the magus steadily lost blood from the hole Lance had left in his breast.
Lance was the first to regain her hooves, gasping at the effort required. “Archmagus, can you continue?” The magus offered no response other than a failed attempt to stand on his own power, and wiping at the blood trickling from his mouth. Lance judged his silence and failure to rise answer enough, and drew back. “I have the victory. Take him to thy chirurgeons, soldiers of Unicornia.”
Though a noble gesture, I judged it a futile pleasantry. The archmagus’ wound would likely claim his life ere they could e’en convey him to their medicae. Though I had heard of some who survived worse wounds, they were hardened warriors of Pegasopolis, not pampered unicorn magi.
Lance turned her eyes to the rest of the unicorns present. “Surrender thy arms and armor, as agreed in the terms of the duel.” There was a long moment of silence, ere I heard the clatter of a single unicorn spear falling to the ground. That sound was shortly joined by another, and then more and more as the unicorn soldiers reluctantly complied.
I made my way to my sister’s side in time to catch her as she staggered, once the strength that had carried her through the duel faded. Now that I stood nearer her, I could see several places where her coat and sections of the flesh beneath had been blasted away by the sheer force of the magus’ lightning. More than half her mane was lost as well, and in jagged streaks that looked most uncomely. Alas for my poor sister, who had sacrificed her beauty for Pegasopolis. I could but pray that she might somehow regrow the lost hair.
Damage to her vanity aside, ‘twas impressive that she had managed to stand at all with all the wounds she had acquired. I stepped forward and gently bore as much of her weight as I could. “If I might make a suggestion, sister, I think we should make our way to Dawn at once. Sierra, may I have thy aid?” My wingmare wasted no time supporting Lance’s other side; I did not think her in any fit state to fly.
Lance favored me with weak, half-conscious smile. “I think that a visit to Dawn is a lovely suggestion, brother. Pray, if thou must imperil thyself in the future, choose weaker enemies. Rescuing thee has become a most trying experience.”