Friends Close
The sun rose higher, nearing noon and the appointed time. The wind had picked up and the chill had worsened. The air reeked of ozone and aether. Kaleb looked east, realizing the odor must be coming from the weather factories, which were upwind. Two of the great industrial chimneys that were part of the complex were beginning to come to life, spewing tiny wisps of blue smoke.
He stood, making a quick patrol of the southeastern edge of the building. The roofing ponies used was uncomfortable anyway.
He had been told it was some kind of sporting building for fillies, something called a gym. That was more pony foolishness that confused him; why have walls and a roof for games that were meant for open sky? Yet Cyrus had need of a large empty building, so this was where they would wait. Talon-picked warriors of the Immortals secured the gym, high and low, but were few in number. Cyrus had said this would be an honest summit, and Kaleb had never had cause to doubt his blood-brother.
Even so, Cyrus and the Immortals would not be the only griffins present for the meeting. This was a Confederate matter, and witnesses were the way of law in the Confederacy. And so while many were here to observe the Khan, Kaleb kept his own vigil over the witnesses.
Khan Tomalak relaxed near the north corner, seeming to nap. The smallest of his daughters sat near him, keeping a watch over her father. Kaleb had not seen her sisters, though he doubted they were far. She became aware of his gaze.
She winked at him.
He scowled back at her, feeling his tail twitch behind him.
She smiled, with a mischievous eyes playing at an innocence Kaleb did not trust. Gotcha, tee-hee.
Kaleb moved on in a huff, willfully choosing to ignore her. It seemed that the offspring of Tomalak had also been cursed with a troublemaker in their midst, much as Jochi's sons had Herger. Perhaps all large families have such a nuisance? Kaleb took a moment to thank Tengri that he had been spared from having such a sibling of his own.
What worried Kaleb most was the uninvited Strix. Seer Ragnar had come on his own. He had rolled bones, looking over them carefully with those unsettling neck twists. This lasted for ten minutes, before he had kicked them from the roof with a screech. Now he sat eyeing the sun, judging it, as if some great portent. What he meant to do here no griffin could guess, but Kaleb’s experience with seers left him doubting that even the seer himself knew.
Ingrid and her Valkyries were a too-present distraction. Ingrid herself had insisted that she and her legion have a part in security. Cyrus had not objected. She stood with Orm, her tall form almost towering over the stout warrior, and occasionally offered respectful opinions on his orders. Her worry was genuine, if mostly veiled. Orm chose to tolerate her comments, though Kaleb guessed the warrior wanted to slash something by now.
Gilda, too, had been anxious last he saw her. To her credit, she’d expressed it in silence. Now she was on a courier run for Ingrid. Tengri’s blessing, Kaleb thought. Hopefully this would be settled one way or another before she returned.
At least the fool Khan Pyrrhus was absent, likely by design. That was the only part of this that made any sense to the hunter. He had offered insult to Cyrus and Aquila and neglected his duty to respond to a summons by a higher khan. Now, he would not be included in the fruits of that meeting. He’d squawk about it to be sure, but it would come to nothing. Or he would do more than that, be replaced by succession, and none outside of Hierax would mourn his passing.
Khan Cyrus perched on the roof’s southern edge. No griffin had spoken with or even come near him since they had arrived at the building; Orm and Ingri had taken charge of the preparations in his stead. Cyrus was a griffin claimed by Fate, prophesied to perform great deeds by the most venerated seer of a generation. Even crude griffins had always given him space. Now it seemed that all present felt that the time of such things was near, and they kept their distance out of some misplaced mysticism.
Kaleb could feel it too. He just did not care. Cyrus was a griffin like any other, and he had met him before prophesy and portent had changed his life. He kept walking in a straight line, piecing the imaginary bubble around the khan. Ingrid and several Immortals noticed and turned as he did so.
“You pace, Kaleb,” Khan Cyrus said as the smaller griffin passed his perch on the ledge. His voice cracked as he spoke, dry from the cold air, and he swallowed to wet his voice.
“I am not worried,” Kaleb replied, not quite in denial.
Cyrus smiled. “You do not pace when you worry. You pace when you do not understand. It is close, but not the same.” He offered Kaleb a perch next to him with a flick of his wing tip.
Kaleb frowned, but did so. He felt the eyes of many griffins watching them, maybe listening. He pondered before speaking again. “She would be fool to come,” Kaleb said.
Cyrus raised his beak to the wind, breathing deeply. “She will come.”
Kaleb shook his head, expressing himself with a doubtful grunt.
Cyrus nodded in the direction of Canterlot. “The Nightmare plays the good sister, the defender of the herd. She does not wish to be revealed. She has cast herself the hero.” He took an easy breath. “She must come.”
“Then…what will her arrival tell us?”
Cyrus blinked. “From that, nothing.”
“Then what can we learn?”
The large Aquila’s wings tensed. Bits of roof crumbled underneath Cyrus’s armored talons. “You are trying to think like a politician. Do not. I tire of speaking in those ways.”
Kaleb waited, unconcerned. These were frustrating matters, but Cyrus was not one to strike another for questions asked of him. “I will listen.”
Cyrus bottled his frustration before speaking again. It took only a few breaths. “Friend, this is a matter of Fate. Years I have toiled, searched…waited. Today I shall see my fated enemy for the first time. A hunter must understand.”
He did, at least partly. Kaleb had once taken to tracking a stag in the winter with the sole intent of seeing how long he could follow the beast without being seen. Two moons later he felt like he knew it as friend, even having never seen it. Cyrus had been waiting years. Kaleb nodded.
“I shall see her. We shall have words. Then we shall part company, and try to end one another in open battle. It is like the old ways.” Cyrus took another deep breath, this one nearly meditative. “Old wrongs should be made right in the old ways. And this is a very, very old wrong.”
Another question came to the smaller griffin. “Where is Herger?”
Cyrus did not answer right away. “I sent him on an errand.”
“To where?”
The khan’s tail twitched. It was a little thing. “An errand.”
Kaleb considered. “He will be late to return.”
“Yes,” Cyrus agreed.
“He is always late.”
“Yes.”
Kaleb blinked. “And you sent him anyway? It is his duty to protect his khan.”
Cyrus’s shoulder feathers rippled. “I am protected, so long as the prophesy remains unfulfilled. He is not. You are not.”
Kaleb had still only spoken of Ragnar’s words over him to Gilda. He would not share it now. “I know of this thinking. It is still his duty.”
The larger griffin sat silent in thought. The winds picked up and died off again several times before he answered.
“Already in this day-old war have the sons of Jochi lost a brother.”
That was something Kaleb could understand, at least. With Aun slain just the previous night in Canterlot, Cyrus would be wary of losing his last brother. Kaleb even bore Aun's starmetal gauntlets, bequeathed from Cyrus himself, and for the first time they felt heavy on his talons. Kaleb could ask no more, and so they waited for the Nightmare in silence, while the griffins behind them toiled over nothing. They did not wait long.
From the direction of the stadium came a flight of ponies. They did not fly low, nor try to hide their intent with a weaving flight path. Dark coats and armor stood out against the winter sky, though when he squinted Kaleb could make out several with lighter colors. As they drew nearer he began to make out more details.
Among them, many wore armor. Those that did seemed to match the color to their coat, dark colored ponies with dark armor and the few white ponies with lighter armor that reflected the sunlight. These among them looked like the castle guards Orm had described, but it was the others that drew most of Kaleb’s attention. He had heard stories of the bat winged tribe, but griffin myths thought them hunted to extinction and only fit for children’s tales—mostly for those meant to keep hatchlings from wandering at night.
At the lead flew a horse with feathered wings, leaner than the others and much taller. She wore no armor, but cast a martial gaze over the city as she conversed with the others. Upon her brow she wore a simple crown behind a long and regal horn.
The Nightmare. Kaleb realized. I am looking at the Nightmare.
The stories of this pony muddled the lines between griffin history and mythology. In the youth of Equestria, the Confederacy had ignored their new neighbors, seeing the nation as feeble and doomed to failure. When time failed to smother them, the griffins had taken to raiding and eventually declaring the occasional war against the ponies. The other alicorn had her place in those tales, often as a master statespony, but it was the Nightmare who had openly took to the field in wartime, both as pony commander and champion. In defense of the herds she had routed invaders, broken sieges and burned cities. Eventually the pridemothers decided enough griffin blood had been split in wars against the ponies, and the Confederacy recognized their neighbors and the new border.
All of this was supposed to have happened before her turn to true evil and attempt to shroud the world in darkness.
Kaleb found himself juggling emotions. Seeing her even at great distance he could not doubt that the alicorn was likely capable of such deeds, but mostly he was struck by how young she appeared. She seemed younger than most of the ponies he had captured last night. Struck by the contrast, for a few moments he could not look away.
That is, until he noticed another horned pony, whose wings were…different.
"I must say," Rarity declared while peering through her opera glasses at the griffins ahead, "They don’t look that menacing at all." They seemed to be friendly enough, at least with each other, and they were all sporting marvelous little sashes with little badges on them. There was such a range of plumage between them! Sonnet had mentioned there were different kinds of griffins, but Rarity had never dreamed there would be such a range of hues and patterns. One of the darlings even had the most adorable little feline ears. He had the cutest little crook in his beak, too.
Beside her, the usually talkative Corporal Sonnet remained silent, and Rarity felt the quiet of the pegasi around her turn dower. She looked back at the, um, ‘flight,’ the royal guards had called it. Almost everypony was looking at her with different measures of disapproval, excepting, perhaps, Colonel Daybreak and Corporal Sonnet. Since they had left the stadium, the Colonel hadn’t seemed to notice any conversation that wasn’t an order from Princess Luna, and Sonnet just looked down, her ears folded back in a melancholy little way.
“What did I say?” Rarity asked with a dainty blink. Display aside, she truly had no idea what had bothered them. “We’re here to talk, after all.”
Nova Drive harrumphed and looked away, as if that were all that needed to be said on the matter. If only Rainbow Dash were here to translate, Rarity thought.
At least one pony was willing to take up the matter. “We can assure thee that they look quite a bit different up close.” Princess Luna’s eyes returned to her appraisal of the griffins below. Several ‘huzzah’s rose up in the wake of her words from the Night Order ponies who clearly agreed with the sentiment.
Something about Luna’s focused gaze reminded Rarity of her own ‘zone,’ when she was measuring a new pony for a dress. She was clearly taking the measure of the griffins ahead, though to what end Rarity could only guess. From her tone, she doubted the Princess was considering colors for the griffins or what accessories would go with their feathers.
“And we are not so sure,” Luna added after a few moments.
“Sure of what?”
“That they are ready to talk,” Princess Luna clarified, still absorbing the griffin positions below. “The Confederacy has known nothing but victory since this invasion began. Were it not for the hostages, we would not have even considered the meeting.”
Rarity frowned. “Come now, Princess, you couldn’t possibly suspect that—”
“Yes, we do. That and worse.”
“You didn’t even let me finish!”
Luna finally glanced up at the unicorn. “Thou art a good pony, Rarity.” A smile touched her eyes, but she seemed not to have the will to bring it to her lips. “Truly, that is what we believe. We doubt thou hast ever had thoughts dark enough to understand the minds of these griffins.”
“Well spoken, Princess.”
Colonel Daybreak’s sudden interjection caught the whole company by surprise. He met their sudden looks with complete self-assurance. “It was.”
Even Princess Luna studied him for a moment. "We thank thee, Colonel."
Nova Drive turned away, a subtle pout on her lips.
Awww, Rarity thought. She’s so cute when she’s jealous. When this was all over, she’d have to have a session with Nova and make something special for her. Perhaps something with a sea green sash? No, a scarf, definitely a scarf. It would bring out her eyes. While Rarity considered patterns, the Princess gave commands to the guards. Eventually Luna’s words were again meant for the unicorn.
“Rarity, when we land, please allow us to do most of the talking,” Princess Luna said. “We did appoint thee Equestria’s civilian representative and we believe thou art more than capable, but whatever their plans might be, we must not allow them to delay. When they spring the trap, Sonnet, Blue Moon, and Daybreak shall attempt to get amongst the hostages. Thou shall not be far wrong to move with those three. Aid and protect the hostages as you are able. And please,” she added, deepening her tone, “the next time we give thee a writ of passage, please listen when we express the potential danger to thyself in involving thee in a mission of this sort.”
Rarity gulped.
“Lady Rarity.” Sonnet put a gentle hoof on Rarity’s shoulder. It was shaking, the poor thing was so nervous. “I cannot promise thee a safe return. Only that if harm should come to thee today, it shall come to thee last of all.”
Oh my, Rarity thought, blinking as she absorbed the weight of the promise. She truly means it.
“Hear, hear!” shouted a few pegasi behind them.
Princess Luna nodded once, and with finality as if signing a document into law. “Huzzah,” she added quietly.
Nopony spoke for a while. Luna signaled for the flight to begin its decent, and the formation followed her. “Speaking of harm, if this rendezvous does turn out to be a trap, of which I am not totally convinced is the case...” Rarity swallowed. “is there a plan?”
“Protect thee and our Princess,” Nova declared, as if reciting from a list of most patriotic facts. “Signal for reinforcement. Extract the captives.”
“And we shall slay every griffin in attendance,” Luna added darkly. Several ‘huzzah’s came from the surrounding Night Order, including Nova. Rarity couldn’t help but notice Luna’s use of “we” in this case was particularly ambiguous.
Something about the tone of Luna’s declaration struck Rarity as…off. She was angry, certainly, and what pony wouldn’t be, but it was almost as if the Princess had a barely unspoken need for violence. Looking from face to face, she tried to reassure herself that no pony could be that bloodthirsty, let alone an Equestrian princess.
In the grim looks of the ponies around her, Rarity saw something quite different. These ponies didn’t just expect a trap; they believed that was the only explanation for Cyrus’s offer. Anything they saw here would be considered in that light. With that many eyes and hearts all convinced that treachery was so close at hoof, somepony would find it. They would spot something, take it as evidence, and lash out before it could be used against them. There was no way this meeting could not turn to violence.
If that happened, at the very least both sides would distrust the other even more at the next meeting, making peace even harder to achieve. That was why Princess Celestia had wanted the Elements involved, right? To find a way to peace?
Rarity considered her next words carefully. “And what if they intend to honor the truce?”
“Then it is a different kind of trap,” Luna answered, “and they shall suffer all the same for their arrogance.”
There it was, then. In spite of Luna’s command, she would have to play a part in the proceedings. Perhaps the meeting was a ploy, but Rarity had to give peace a chance just in case the Princess was wrong. If nothing else, Equestria could not strike first.
No pressure, Rarity. She gulped. It’s not as though the fate of Equestria might depend on your words in the coming minutes.
Or at least, she prayed to Celestia it wouldn’t.