//------------------------------// // Rising Shadows: Epilogue // Story: The Lunar Rebellion // by Chengar Qordath //------------------------------// “Mother, what have you done?” Mother jerked her lance’s head free of Shadow Kicker’s body. “I have avenged my daughter.” “By attacking Shadow beneath a truce flag.” I quickly set about securing Gale’s wings. I had felled her with a lucky blow while she was still in shock from her mother’s murder, but ‘twould not be long ere she recovered. I had not wished her violence, but had I not acted, she would have attacked Mother. Though I was quite horrified by the attack on Shadow, she was still my mother, and I could not leave her undefended. I misliked the idea of making Gale a prisoner in such a treacherous assault, but I did not want to risk Mother taking her life as well. There would be a certain cruel poetry in murdering Shadow’s daughter to avenge Lance’s death—I could only pray Mother would deem such an act pointless with Shadow slain and unable to bear witness. Lance. I suppose I ought to be as furious as mother o’er her death—that I should share her bloodlust and demand the deaths of all Shadow’s clanmates as recompense for it. Yet instead I merely felt empty. I took no satisfaction from Shadow’s death, and Lance’s account of the clash between them inclined me to think that Shadow herself had not wished Lance any ill. Where Mother saw righteous vengeance, I saw naught but more blood soaking the ground. And I knew there would be more to come. A furious cry from the fortress informed me that there was little time to wax philosophical. “Mother, I suggest we withdraw ere the entire loyalist army decides to avenge the commander we just betrayed and murdered.” My words grew hotter than I would have expected. “Will you help me carry off her daughter, or would you prefer to leave her free to avenge her mother’s death? Perhaps you would like to murder her whilst she lies beaten and helpless?” There might have been a slight note of condemnation in my voice. Thankfully, she did not turn her weapon upon my prisoner—it seemed that the unicorn army mustering for an attack interested her more than Shadow’s daughter. “Do as thou wilt with her, I care not,” Mother snarled, readying what remained of her broken lance. “Let Celestia’s dogs come. I will kill Sunbeam Sparkle and every other miserable pony who stands ‘tween me and Celestia. Though ‘twas Shadow who did the deed, doubtless ‘twas her queen who gave the order. My vengeance has barely e’en begun!”  “Mother!” I quickly placed myself in her path, trying to force her away from the fort. “If you insist upon this course, you will surely die!” She tried to bull her way past me, but I did not give her an inch of ground. When I did not stand aside, she growled in frustration. “Move, damn thee! So long as I see the life fading from Celestia’s eyes ere I take my last breath, I shall be content to join my beloved daughter. Let them bury us together and make this mountain our cairn.” I could endure no more. “And what of the rest of your children?” A mad rage took me, and I shoved her back with all my strength. “Do you love us all so little that you will force us to bury our mother and our sister on the same day? Myself, Thunder, Flash, Dawn, Shield, and the others! Do we mean nothing to you, now that Lance is dead? I beg you, for the sake of what remains of our family, let it end here!” A dozen emotions flickered o’er Mother’s face in as many seconds. Anger. Frustration. Sorrow. Determination. Uncertainty. Finally, she offered a single tired nod and slowly turned her back on the enemy fortress. “Yes. Lance would not want me to throw away my life and double thy losses.” She cast her broken weapon aside. “At the very least, I should properly rearm myself ere I venture once more to the frontlines.” “Yes, quite. Thunder and Flash can adequately represent the clan until you are ready to retake the field.” I privately resolved to do whate’er I could to prevent Mother from returning to the battlefield until her blood had cooled. I did not want her taking the field again—in part because I feared to lose her when she had so little regard for her own safety, but also because she might dishonor herself further. I was still stunned that she had struck Shadow down in such a way; I had expected an honorable duel, not wanton murder in the midst of a parley. Mother stalked off, leaving me to carry Gale unaided. She had awoken from the blow I had struck her head, but thankfully her mind seemed muddled and she was in no condition to resist me. A part of me was sorely tempted to leave her behind on the pretense that I was unable to carry her. Howe’er, I had my duty to Pegasopolis and my clan. ‘Twas fortunate that she favored light armor. We shortly encountered our own front line, rushing up to meet the incoming attack from the loyalist forces. They quickly parted ranks around myself and Mother as best they could within the narrow confines of the tunnels, but e’en so it took us some time to make the journey. I was most relieved when we finally won free of the tunnels and returned to the open sky, allowing me to move without a constant press of bodies ‘gainst me. I quickly rushed ahead of Mother, using the excuse that I needed to secure my prisoner. Gale still seemed rattled from the blow to her head, and likely in shock from witnessing her mother’s death, but I was sure she would become quite fearsome once the pain passed. Given her enmity towards me, I did not want to be too near her once that occurred. I might be fond of the mare, but I did not doubt I would be her first target if she were to lash out in blind, vengeful fury. Thankfully, it seemed that after all that had occurred that day, fate or fortune decided I had earned a small boon. Gale was still insensible when I hastily bound her in my clan’s command tent. ‘Twas a poor prison for a mare of Gale’s skills, but ‘twould have to serve until we could transport her to Cloud 327. I hesitated a moment, then gently gripped her shoulder. “I am sorry for thy loss, Gale. I cannot feel sorrow at the death of the mare who slew my sister, e’en though ‘twas not her intention to do so, but I know the pain of losing a beloved family member all too well. I would wish that upon nopony. Especially not thee.” She regarded me with blank, unseeing eyes. ‘Twas as if she were a puppet with the strings severed. Seeing her in such a sorry state pained me far more than I expected. I was tempted to offer some minor provocation, in the hopes that she might regain some of her old vigor by insulting me. Perhaps I would do so if her state persisted, but at that moment a jest would have seemed far too macabre. Instead, I tried once more to offer comfort. “I will see to it that thy needs are well tended, and thou dost not want for anything that can reasonably be provided for thee in thy captivity.” When she again provided me with no response, I reluctantly took my leave, assigning two guards to watch the tent’s exit. I could not afford to spend my time comforting a prisoner when our forces were locked in battle. I had yet to take action to mitigate the damage Mother’s temper might have done to our cause or to prevent her from retaking the field as soon as she replaced her broken weapon. The second problem was easily resolved. Shield remained in Lance’s tent, still in a daze o’er our sister’s death. I might have been much the same were it not for my duty propelling me e’er forward. How could I mourn my sister when I had been thrust into battle mere minutes after her death? So long as I remained buried under new tasks, I could forestall my sorrow. My brother was idly toying with one of Lance’s old helms when I entered her tent. “Shield.” My brother turned to face me, fumbling and dropping the helm as he did so. “I have a task for thee. Mother has damaged her lance and will soon be here for a new one.” My little brother sprang to his hooves with an eager flap of his wings. I suspect he hoped to lose himself in work much as I did. “I will retrieve one for her at once.” “Not so quickly, dear brother.” I dropped down to one knee so I might whisper into his ear. “I want you to go into the armory, find Mother’s lances, and snap the shafts of every single one of them.” His jaw dropped. “Wh-what? Dusk, is this some sort of jest? Mother would be furious if I were to damage her equipment!” “Then I would suggest that thou dost exercise discretion in thy task.” I suppose I should have done more to convince him of this course, but there was no time to play the diplomat when Mother might arrive at any moment. “I am thine elder, so see it done. If Mother is displeased, I shall bear the guilt for it. And I shall take thee as my squire if thou dost this task for me.” (1) 1: The usage of this term seems to be a consequence of cultural bleedover between pegasi and unicorns, since the general concept of knights and squires wasn’t a part of Pegasopolan culture. Most likely the pegasi adopted the term because the practice was effectively the same, lack of titles aside: a young warrior-in-training is apprenticed to an older, more experienced one who is usually either a clanmate or a close friend of one. That won him to my cause, and the young colt rushed out to do my bidding. None too soon, for I had only just returned to Mother’s command tent when she arrived. She halted at the entrance and glowered at the bound Gale. Sensing danger, I hastily placed myself ‘twixt the two. Mother’s eyes narrowed for a moment, but she turned away with a snort. Now that we were outside the close quarters of the tunnels, I could finally take a proper look at her: she looked drawn and pale, as if she had aged a dozen years o’er the course of this day. Small surprise, given what we had suffered. Shadow’s blood yet lingered on her armor. She trod into the tent, very slightly favoring one of her legs as she did so. “Those tunnels are a nightmare. The journey took five times as long as it should have. If we do not crush Celestia’s pets today, we will have to put what engineers we have to work widening the tunnels so that we can move our forces with any appreciable speed.” She trotted to the table and refilled her waterskin from a waiting pitcher. “I trust thou hast already set about procuring me fresh equipment so that I might rejoin the battle?” “I have set Shield to the task.” Mother seemed satisfied with that answer, so I set to work fulfilling my promise to the young colt. “I had thought to take him on as my squire, now that Lance will no longer...” The remaining words died in my throat, for I could not bring myself to speak any further about her. Mother fell silent for a long moment, then slowly shook her head. “Neigh. I do not deny thee for doubt of thy skills, but because I intend to keep Shield far away from any battlefield for the rest of the war. I will not bury another child.” Alas, my promise to the lad would be broken. Though I could not fault Mother for that desire. “I suppose I shall have to wait until after the war to take him as an apprentice, then.” “That should be acceptable,” Mother answered with a dismissive wave. With that matter settled, I took a deep breath and tentatively broached a new topic. “Mother, I would advise you to make a statement of some sort once the battle is ended. The damage to your reputation and that of the rebel cause would be significantly diminished if you apologized for the trucebreaking and explained that Lance perished from wounds caused by Shadow mere hours before you met her. ’Twould not wholly cleanse the crime, but many would understand and sympathize with your actions.” “I will not apologize for avenging my daughter’s murder,” Mother snapped, scowling furiously at me. “Let the world judge me as they will, but I am glad she is dead and only hope she suffers in whate’er awaits us beyond life’s ending.” I could think of no fitting response, and ‘twas plain that I would accomplish nothing by further pursuing the matter. The two of us remained in silence for a short time while I waited for Shield to finish his sabotage mission. When the tent’s flap stirred I expected to see the young colt come to report his success, but while ‘twas a younger brother who arrived, ‘twas Flash who entered rather than Shield. My brother had seen better days. More than half his silvery armor was coated in black soot, and his mane and tail were both missing large portions, as if he had let them rest too near a campfire. Given Archmagus Sparkle’s presence on the field, ‘twas not hard to guess at the cause of Flash’s sorry condition. Howe’er, most tellingly there was a slackness to his expression, a dull glaze o’er his eyes and a heavy slump to his wings. I had seen that look on soldiers before and steeled myself for grim tidings. If Mother placed any importance on my brother’s battle wounds, she revealed none of it. “Flash. I take it thy brother is representing the clan on the field. I will be rejoining our forces shortly. How fares the battle?” “Poorly.” Flash moved to nearby seat and fell heavily into it. He stare blankly ahead until Mother pointedly cleared her throat. When he spoke his voice was flat and emotionless, as if he were so drained that he could barely muster the strength to speak. “The loyalists succeeded in recovering Shadow’s body. The enemy fought with a fury I have rarely seen, whilst our forces fight with half their usual zeal.” Though Flash was displaying rare prudence in not saying so, ‘twas easy enough to guess at the cause for those morale issues. Treachery leaves a sour taste in the mouth of all true warriors. Flash groaned and upended his waterskin, pouring the contents o’er his face. It seemed to rouse him from his stupor. “I ... Thunder and I felt our forces needed a victory of some sort to buoy our spirit. Unfortunately, there was only one enemy commander on the field who made a suitable target.” His state made the target of his challenge plain enough, and my stomach clenched at the confirmation of my fears. Thunder’s absence was not on account of maintaining our clan’s presence on the frontline. I tried to keep the horror from my voice. The twins had always been bold idiots, but... “Tell me the two of you were not so foolish as to challenge Sunbeam Sparkle to single combat?”  Flash sighed heavily. “Would that I could, dear brother. Though ‘twas not single combat; she was willing to face myself and my brother at once. She declared her intention to destroy Mother and all her family line, and boasted that she saw no reason not to slay two birds with a single stone. I thought the advantage of numbers might allow us to prevail ‘gainst her.” His eyes flicked guiltily about the room. “We only wanted to earn our share of the glory. Lance and Mother had their victories; why should we not have ours too?” Mother’s eyes locked upon his with the intensity of a hawk. “Where is thy brother?” Flash’s eyes fell to the ground. “He ... he is...” He could not bring himself to say the words, which was answer enough. A scream of fury rent the air, and Mother brought an armored hoof down upon the water urn, smashing it to pieces. I noted that the water dripping into the grass had a distinct pinkish hue. I suppose a shard of pottery must have found its way within her armor and pierced her flesh, though I could not imagine how that might have happened. “Another one!” she shouted to the heavens. “Two of mine own flesh and blood in a single day!? Was my firstborn not enough? What sin have I committed that I must be punished so cruelly for it? Must I bury all my children ere this war ends?!” Flash and I both moved to comfort her, but he was nearer. “He died well, Mother. He was very brave, and brought honor to our clan.” Mother shoved him back with an angry snarl. “I do not care if he died well, he died! How couldst thou abandon him? He was thy brother, thy twin! How is it that he is dead, yet thou dost return to me alive and unharmed? Didst thou flee the battle like some craven?” Flash squirmed, rooted to the spot by Mother’s explosive fury. “I ... there was no way I could hope to defeat her after I saw what she did to Thunder! Attempting to fight her would only have ended with me slain as well, and naught to show for it! Is it not better that one of us survives?” “Would that the better of my sons had.” Mother struck him full across the cheek. “Instead he died so that thou might live.” I might have offered some defense of my brother’s actions, save that something else demanded mine attention. The blow she had struck Flash had knocked Mother’s leg armor slightly askew, and I noted a slow, steady trickle of blood pouring through the gap. There was already a small but rapidly growing puddle beneath her hoof, and the flow seemed to be continuing on quite steadily. “Mother, you are wounded.” Mother glanced down, and her eyes went wide. “Is all of that mine?” “It is,” I confirmed. “Flash, find Dawn. Mother, pray hold still so that I might remove the armor and examine thy leg.” I did not have Dawn’s skills, but any warrior should know the fundamentals of battlefield medicine. Chirurgeons are not always close at hoof. The instant I loosened Mother’s armor, I knew our need for Dawn’s skills was urgent. Blood exited ‘tween the newly opened gaps in her greaves like a torrent, and a layer of blood coated her leg from hoof to knee. That was far too much. I desperately searched for the wound that had cost her so much, but found none. ‘Twas only on the third search that I realized mine error: I had assumed it must be some large, terrible wound to have made her bleed so awfully, but in truth, the wound was a small one, barely perceptible. Howe’er, it had severed one of the largest veins in her leg, and the wound had been unseen and untreated for far too long. Likely Mother had dismissed it as a minor wound that did not e’en cause any notable pain. ‘Twas as if seeing all the blood she’d lost suddenly made Mother realize the depth of her injury, for her legs collapsed underneath her a moment later. I hastily improvised a bandage out of some bedding and pressed it to her wound, hoping to at least slow the blood loss—though with how much of her lifesblood was already soaking the grass beneath her, I could not help wondering if mine efforts had been too little, too late. “Dawn, where art thou?” I hissed underneath my breath. “I am afraid thy sister is otherwise occupied.” I spun about and found myself facing Swift Blade, accompanied by a few of his unicorn cohorts—including the warlock archmagus Hidden Facts. Flash also stood at his side, to my displeasure. “She attends Ephor Steel, as he was badly wounded in an earlier battle and still hovers on the boundary of life and death.” His shoulders slumped in a o’erdramatic sigh. “Perhaps that is for the best; her recent record with family members does not inspire confidence in her abilities.” “You dare?!” If not for the need to keep pressure upon Mother’s wound, I might have struck him then and there. “Mind thy tongue, boy!” Swift snapped. I was tempted to strike him e’en more for the naked condescencion of his address. “With Bright and Steel both too wounded to lead, I am the Acting Commander of Pegasopolis.” Flash’s eyes nervously flicked the warlocks accompanying the Ephor. “They promised that they could save Mother’s life. They have magic. Powerful magic.” “Forbidden magic,” I snarled in reply. “Forbidden by whom?” Hidden cut in smoothly. “By the very magi we name as enemies? The same mare who so recently murdered your brother? If Archmagus Sunbeam Sparkle were to declare the lance a forbidden weapon, would we abide by that restriction as well? I can save your mother’s life. What does it matter how it is done?” “Aye, well said,” Swift rumbled in approval. I immediately brought my weapons to bear against the lot of them as best I could while still tending my mother. It made a poor combat position, and likely stole some of the strength from my declaration. “I will not surrender my mother into the custody of warlocks!” Swift Blade drew himself up to his full, though unimpressive, height. “That is not thy decision to make. As Acting Commander of Pegasopolis, I have final authority on the care of wounded soldiers, and I am giving mine orders now. Thou wilt grant the warlocks custody of Bright Charger and cease interfering in her medical care. Are mine orders clear?” I might have made a fight of it, but I was outnumbered a dozen to one and restricted by the need to keep pressure on Mother’s wound. I could not hope to stop them, and trying would only result in my death. Likely an especially gruesome one, given the spellcasters I faced. There was only one viable choice: live to fight another day. “I understand, sir.” I stepped away from Mother with the utmost reluctance, allowing the warlocks to take charge of her. Flash took my place at her side. “Very wise.” A smug smile crossed the Acting Commander’s lips. “Now then, I think we need to launch another assault on the enemy defenses. I would ask thee to stand for thy clan in leading that charge. With luck, thou might be able to avenge thy brother by facing his killer in single combat. Consider all of that an order.” “No.” I drew myself up to my full height, which placed me a good few inches o’er Swift. “Since we are all using acting ranks, then let me say that as Acting Paterfamilias of the Charger clan, I am withdrawing my clan’s support from this campaign, effective immediately. Good luck taking the city without the largest of Pegasopolis’s clans. And others will follow my lead, I assure you.” Swifts eyes bulged in shock. “That is treason! You cannot—” I stilled the flapping of his jaws with a sharp blow. “You would name me a traitor, sir? I am badly insulted and demand that you give me the satisfaction of juris ungula, or withdraw your remarks and let my clan go on its way in peace. Have I made myself clear?” Given Swift’s abysmal reputation as a warrior, I felt perfectly safe issuing the challenge. Swift scowled balefully, then turned to his pet warlock. “Very well then. Hidden Facts, dispose of this fool for me.” A slight smirk crossed the cadaverous mage’s face. “Alas, this a pegasus affair. I’m afraid I cannot stand as your champion. It would be ... improper.” He nodded to his own dark mages, and they quickly transported Mother elsewhere. Flash spared me an almost apologetic look, then followed his new masters. I breathed out in relief. It had not e’en occurred to me that Swift might show such utter disregard for tradition that he would attempt to name a unicorn warlock as his champion instead of standing against me himself. Though such might have violated tradition and invalidated the duel in the eyes of society, such would be small comfort if I perished. Deprived of his prospective champion, Swift had little choice in the matter. He may have been proud proud, but not so proud he would die before his knees bent. “Very well then, Dusk Charger. I withdraw my remarks, which were spoken in the heat of the moment.” Despite those words, Swift’s eyes never left mine, and I could plainly see the hate burning within them. “I will not forget this.” “Good.” I rose to my hooves and turned to face the exit. “If you do forget it, sir, ‘twould be my great pleasure to remind you once more.” ‘Twas most satisfying to see his jaw clench in impotent fury. “Now if there is nothing else, please leave my tent. There is a rather unpleasant odor of cowardice in the air.” Swift had no choice but to let the barb pass. Once the supposed Acting Commander slunk out of my tent, I made arrangements to secure Gale, and then began planning Mother’s rescue. Half an hour later, a small group of ponies met in my tent in utmost secrecy. The first to join me was Sierra Doo. When I had risen to command of the hetairoi, I had named her as my second. While she was not a part of her clan’s ruling family, she was a respected warrior with a reasonable measure of influence, and a close personal friend as well. After her came Bronze Striker, Ephor Steel’s younger brother. Mine uncle, I suppose. Like myself, he was effectively acting pater of the clan. His coat suited his name, with a close-cropped mane and tail which was rapidly fading from black to grey. A competent commander, but one who had e’er lived in his brother’s shadow. Mother once told me that not a thought entered his head that Steel had not placed there. Then there was Solus Kicker, the closest thing the remnants of the loyal Kickers had to a proper pater. A veteran warlock hunter who had lost an ear, an eye, and his good looks in battle against a necromancer. ‘Twas those scars which kept him from taking command of the clan, despite being the best qualified for it. Rumor had it that he had refused to join Shadow not for any love of Pegasopolis, but because he hated unicorns. I could not say I approved of such sentiments, but it made him well-suited to our current purposes. Last of all, I had mater Ardent Stalker. I dared not move against Swift without some support from the minor clans, or I risked splitting our army in twain. She was small, lean, and unimposing like most of her clansmares, but I did not for a second believe that made her any less dangerous. As importantly, I knew she had no great love for Swift Blade. The Stalker Clan constituted some of our best skirmishers, and all of their number had served in the Long Patrol at some point. Their influence was perhaps less than they deserved, as many warriors felt skirmishing to be somewhat dishonorable compared to standing and fighting. I suspect this sentiment comes from the fact that a good skirmisher can make short work of a fool who insists upon standing out in the open and demanding his enemies face him directly. Five ponies, one from each of the major clans and one from a minor clan. The number and arrangement of this meeting was not a product of happenstance. ‘Twas strange to think of myself as the acting paterfamilias for my clan in this matter, but I had no time to dwell on that when my mother needed mine aid. I stepped forward, positioning myself so that I could see all of them at once. ‘Twas fortunate that my new post as commander of the hetairoi had allowed me more spacious quarters than I had once enjoyed. “Let us begin. There is much to discuss and little time to see it done. With Ephors Steel Striker and Bright Charger both wounded in action, Ephor Swift Blade currently holds sole command of Pegasopolis’s armed forces. I consider this an unacceptable state of affairs and intend to take action to correct it.” “Unacceptable because you do not want to take orders from a pony who comes from a minor clan?” the Stalker mater asked suspiciously, though her tone was not quite as cutting as it could have been. I suspect she asked the question in part to allow me to answer it and put an end to any such suspicions ere they arose. “Neigh, materfamilias. I care little for what name a pony bears; I do not wish to take orders from him because he is unfit for command.” My response seemed adequate, and Ardent Stalker relaxed in her seat. “I have ne’er cared for him. Were it not for his low cunning during the selection process, I might well have his seat in the Ephorate.” She waved for me to continue. “Swift Blade has ne’er distinguished himself in battle. He has not commanded a force larger than a few squads, and ne’er in any true conflict. I do not deny his skill with managing our supply lines, but that is a job for a clerk rather than a commander. He is craven, and we all know it. ‘Tis no secret that a sharp blow and an issued challenge will always suffice to make him bite his tongue. Most critically, he is consorting with practitioners of the forbidden arts.” Solus Kicker growled several words which should not have been said amongst polite company. “We should not have taken those accursed unicorns prisoner to begin with. I told Cyclone that they deserved the noose. No good could come of letting them live.” With the benefit of hindsight, I quite agreed with him. “Ephor Steel and my mother were considering how best to punish him for his flagrant disobedience when they were wounded in battle.” I struggled to keep my choler in check with my next statement. “One of his first acts upon learning that my mother was wounded was to entrust her care to his pet warlocks. Had I not been alone against him and a dozen of his mages, I would have cut him down then and there. I know not what his warlocks intend for my mother, but I doubt ‘tis anything good. She stands ‘tween him and control of our armies.” “You think he would go so far as to murder her?” Sierra asked. “Neigh, but he need not take any action against her. She was already badly wounded.” I thought back to my mother’s lifeblood spilling onto the ground and trembled. “It may well be enough to merely have his warlocks be less than diligent in their efforts to aid her.” Bronze sighed and ran a hoof down his face. “‘Tis unclear if Steel will e’en live through the night. And if he does... he is not as young and strong as he once was. He might well have to retire, and e’en if he does not, ‘twill be many weeks ere he can return to the battlefield. If Bright falls, Swift will take command unopposed.” “No.” I looked to each of them in turn, weighing my words carefully. “Not unopposed.” Solus scratched at his scars with a hoof that had been cracked many years ago and healed badly. “So that is the way of it? Well and good. I can have fifty blades ready in ten minutes. Not the best of our clan, but they will obey mine orders without doubt or hesitation. I think the loyalty of our blades will be far more important than their skill for this.” “I can bring a hundred from the Doos,” Sierra offered. “I think it likely the hetairoi would stand with us as well. ‘Twould add to the legitimacy of the proceedings.” “Aye, but there are a few Blades in the hetairoi,” I cautioned. “I would not risk one of them finding some way to forewarn him of our coming. If we arrive and take him unawares, this should go smoothly. If he has time to muster his clan, we risk a civil war among our ranks and the utter ruin of our cause.” “How quietly do we want him removed?” Ardent asked with a cold smile. “I could arrange for something very discreet. A poison that mimics the symptoms of a common camp illness. None might e’er know he was murdered.” Her smile widened. “And I do like the image of Swift spending his last days perched o’er a chamberpot.” While I could not deny the idea had a certain appeal to it, I shook my head. “He has my mother. We cannot afford to wait a few days for him to expire.” “So we take the warlocks now,” Solus Kicker suggested with a smile that pulled his scars tight across his face. “Kill them all and string their corpses up. Better than they deserve, but we are in some haste.” “I would prefer we avoid bloodshed if at all possible,” Bronze opined with a frown. “We are not so flush with soldiers that we can afford to waste lives fighting our own. I would suggest we march openly on where’er Swift and his warlocks are meeting, and demand his resignation and the warlocks’ imprisonment whilst holding five hundred blades at our back. No threats need be spoken—the mere presence of such numbers will make the consequences of refusal plain.” “Just march our forces right through the middle of camp?” Ardent demanded incredulously. “Surely we can come up with a slightly subtler plan than that.” “Subtlety takes time, and that is a resource we have little of,” Sierra parried. “Why spare the warlocks?” Solus Kicker demanded. “So they can be released by some other damned fool or escape? Kill them and be done with it.” I did not want to risk the meeting devolving to petty bickering, so I did what Mother would have to restore order: I took a deep breath and spoke as loudly as I could without shouting. “If I may make a suggestion...” The others all paused, turning to face me. “I think Bronze is correct that it would be best to avoid bloodshed if at all possible. Any deaths could spark a blood feud we can ill afford in the middle of a war.” I noted the scowl forming on Solus’s face and moved to dispel it. “We can always give the warlocks a swift trial and justified execution after they agree to be taken back into custody. ‘Tis likely they would only attempt to manipulate their way to freedom once more, anyway.” “So long as they die,” he growled. Bronze naturally had no objections to his own proposal, and Sierra seemed quite content with it as well. That only left Ardent objecting. “I grasp the need to recover your mother from the warlocks as swiftly as possible; howe’er, must the rescue and our action against Swift occur in the same stroke?” “I think that would be best.” I turned to face her directly. “Once we move against his warlocks, Swift will know us for his enemies. If we give him time to prepare himself, he will make our lives far more difficult.” Ardent Stalker sighed and waved her concession. “Aye, he would. Likely by doing something so terrible and ill-considered that we had not e’en entertained the possibility. So be it—we will move against him swiftly and directly.” Ten minutes later, we marched on Swift’s tent. We had assembled o’er five hundred loyal soldiers ‘tween us, though I suspect I might have been able to rouse the entire clan given more time. Howe’er, I worried that I might already have waited too long to rescue Mother from the warlocks. Better to take action now with sufficient force than to arrive too late with o’erwhelming force. Darkness had fallen while we readied ourselves. The wind had shifted, and now our camp was experiencing some of the torrential rains we regularly inflicted upon Canterlot. So much the better, as it served to drive most soldiers to their tents. Swift would receive less warning of our approach, and most of his clan would be huddled where’er they could shelter from the rain rather than closely attending their pater. As we neared the warlocks’ tent, there was an unnatural chill in the air, especially for a late summer’s night. “Sorcery,” Solus Kicker hissed. He pointed to a pair of empty cages. “No, not just that. Blood magic.” Sierra approached the cages, making a quick inspection. “These held the Archmagi we were to trade for Rightly.” “Not anymore,” the grizzled mage-hunter snarled. “They have likely been sacrificed to fuel whate’er dark magic the warlocks are weaving. We must stop them, and quickly.” I quite agreed with him, and we approached the tent’s entrance. A small contingent of Blades held the entrance, some warily looking towards the large force of approaching soldiers, while others seemed more frightened of what they guarded. I recognized both Swift’s children among their number and turned to the elder, his son. “Stand aside.” The son—Quick, if I recalled his name correctly—shot an uncertain glance o’er his shoulder, then firmed his stance. “Commander Swift Blade has ordered that none be admitted into the tent until the ceremony is complete. Who are you to countermand his orders?” My companions stepped up to my side, adding another subtle layer of intimidation to the scene. “I am a very angry and very well-armed warrior who is in command of five hundred other very angry, very well-armed warriors. I ask you once again, stand aside.” Quick’s sister, a rather comely young mare named Skilled, hissed something into his ear, but he waved her off. “I have mine orders. You cannot enter.” Solus Kicker strode forward, the light glinting menacingly off of his wing blades. “Tell me something, child. If we want to get in, how exactly do you plan on stopping us?” ‘Twas plain to see that Quick was all but petrified. Once more Skilled whispered to him; I could only hear a few words, but those that I did pleased me. “Not worth dying for.” Unfortunately, Quick did not heed his sister, waving her off. ‘Twould seem that while he knew he could not hope to stand against us, he was possessed of too much loyalty to his father to abandon his post e’en in the face of certain death. Perhaps inspired by mine earlier encounter with Swift, I decided on bold action for my course. My punch caught him in the cheek, carefully aimed so as to do no significant harm to him. The young stallion was caught quite by surprise, losing his balance and falling face-first into the mud. His sister and some of the other Blade ponies glowered at me, but none seemed o’ereager to do more than that when my forces had theirs outnumbered by more than twenty to one. For all their anger, they stood aside. I opened the tent, finding the air thick with incense and other smells I could not identify save for one: the thick, cloying stench of blood. I could see the bodies of the murdered Archmagi, and a large bloodstain in the center of a large ritual circle where my mother must have been placed. Yet her body was no longer there. I espied Swift Blade and all but charged him. Unlike with his son, I took no care to avoid harming him with my punch, and I could feel his cheekbone cave in under the blow. The supposed commander of Pegasopolis fell to the ground, and I unsheathed a knife and pressed it to his throat. “Where is my mother?!” Ere he could answer me, I heard her voice behind me. “Release him, Dusk.” I instantly did so and spun about, searching for her. She stood at Hidden Facts’ side, though now she dwarfed the warlock. Mother had always been large for a mare, though her build was more lean and muscular. Now, she was a giant, almost comparable in scale to Queen Celestia. And from her forehead... “Mother?” “Yes,” the alicorn Bright Charger answered me with, a cold smile upon her face. “But so much more as well. I am Equestria’s salvation from the evils of the Sun Tyrant. I am freedom. I am a goddess’s will made flesh. I am Luna reborn, her avatar on this world!”