“Tomorrow will be a good day.”
The two dragons stood together on the hilltop, looking pointedly out towards the plain to the north as the sun began to set, and the sky began to darken.
“A good day?”
“Forgive me, my Lord. It will be a glorious day.”
Ragnarok narrowed his eyes, invisibly clenched his teeth into a grimace, and had to resist the urge to shake his head, even subtly. Once again, he had been misinterpreted. And once again, he found himself unable to correct the error.
If nothing else, though, he could correct his counterpart. “If you call me ‘My Lord’ once more, Valkyr, I will see to it that you are unable to speak at all for some considerable time.”
Beside him, Valkyr smiled a wry smile, but said nothing.
The pair cast stark outlines in the fading light. The deep colours of the sunset caused Valkyr’s silver scales to glow almost golden, while Ragnarok’s own, bronze hide was instead cast into a deep, blood red gleam. That, at least, was fitting.
Had it really come to this?
Valhalla, the former king of the dragons had ruled long and well, yet had at last succumbed to age as all things must. But in the years before his demise he had taken the unprecedented step of recommending loudly – and belligerently – that Ragnarok should be named as his successor. Much to Ragnarok’s own surprise.
Not that Valhalla’s opinion wouldn’t have carried weight, but once one was dead there was very little one could do to influence the outcome of such decisions. So Ragnarok had stood forward, as his former mentor had wanted. He had excelled at the Trials, but even so he was too young and too naive to be a real ruler, and stood no chance at Election... or so he had believed. Until Valhalla’s son Valkyr, who had always been like an older brother to him, had thrown his full weight behind Ragnarok.
In the moons that followed, support for him had built steadily, and within only five years, much to his surprise and – if he were brutally honest, horror – he had been named King. But with the landslide of support, and his eventual success, had come something else. Something that had taken him by surprise, and for which he was quite unprepared.
Expectation.
Valhalla had ruled well and justly for six-hundred and eighty-six years. And yet in all that time, his list of ‘accomplishments’ could likely be counted on one claw. Valhalla had never cared much for such measures of success; all that mattered to him was that the dragons lived well, and so a feeling of stagnation pervaded the kingdom. But now that there was a new king on the throne – one whom had been swept there on a wave of support – there was an ‘expectation’ that Ragnarok’s new leadership would usher in a new era of success, new triumph and new prosperity... without any hint as to what form that should take.
Expectation – it was nebulous, intangible, insidious... but it was real and it was there, in the eyes of all dragons who now called him King. And it was dangerous: his subjects wanted more. More of what, they didn’t know, but they wanted it regardless. And they expected the King to deliver it... even if he did not know how.
But he could not be seen to be indecisive or to flounder in his duty, for these were not the hallmarks of a strong leader. So within months he had announced that more meant expansion. More land to tame, more riches to claim, more treasures to horde. He would deliver new fortune to his people and that would satisfy their greed. And the closest and easiest route to expansion lay northward: to the green, pleasant lands of the country of Equestria. Its snow-capped mountains were rich with seams of gemstones, and its crystal-clear lakes, rolling fields and lush forests were treasures themselves that any dragon would feel lucky to call their territory. And judging from the reactions of his subjects, they approved of this idea immensely.
The fact that it was already occupied by an indigenous, civilised population of small, largely unobtrusive equines, seemed to be of no concern at all to his people. And, truth be known, it had been of no concern to him either when the idea was new and details scarce. But as the distance between the plan itself and the practicalities of its execution diminished, he found himself growing increasingly uneasy. The thought of what he would have to actually do to Equestria – and its populace – in order to hand it to his subjects filled him with disquiet, and in this he seemed alone.
As hard as he had looked, he had found no dragon willing to offer any objection to their new King’s idea. No, they had all been blindly, infuriatingly loyal. Especially Valkyr, who had inspired so much support for it. It wasn’t that his people were filled with bloodlust: they were simply greedy, and they seemed to have a prehistoric notion of the ‘glory’ and exotic nature of battle. Even if the casualties would all be on the other side, that was no reason to treat it lightly. But once the ball had started rolling; once the support had begun pouring in, Ragnarok had been quite unable to make it stop. Thus, he had arrived at this point, propelled headlong by expectation and duty and oh-so-much support, onto a high hilltop, an army at his back, overlooking the country that he would ravage so that he could deliver it to his people, satisfy their greed, and discharge his blasted duty.
He stood with Valkyr upon the northernmost summit of a group of five hills which roughly formed a circle, ringing a wide, shallow valley perhaps two miles in diameter. Within the depression a low ridge ran from north to south, two-thirds east of centre, creating a mini-valley in the east of the pseudo-crater. To the southwest of the ridge lay a small wood, but on the flat open spaces of grassland surrounding it there were dozens upon dozens of dragons going about their evening preparations, concealed from any spying northward eyes by the slopes of the ring of hills.
Ragnarok turned his head briefly to regard the valley behind him before looking back to the north. “Where do we stand?” he asked.
“Embla and her brothers arrived about an hour ago. That is the last of those we were expecting, and even now the troops are bedding down for the evening. There are sentries atop each of the four other hills, and I will take first watch here tonight. Morale is high. Everything is ready.”
“Good,” he lied. “How strong are we?”
“Seventy-one, my Lo– forgive me. Ragnarok. We could raze their entire country with ease, at your order.”
Ragnarok’s teeth clenched a little tighter and he couldn’t keep a scowl from his face. The reality of what he was about to do beset him once more. “The goal is acquisition, Valkyr, not destruction. Remember that. I will not have my new country burned to cinders before I have a chance to enjoy it.”
“Of course, Sire.”
Ragnarok winced. From the corner of his eye he caught Valkyr’s wry grin again. He sighed. “The title. It still feels odd. Especially from your lips.”
“You will have to get used to it. I am going to have to refer to you somehow in front of the troops. I would prefer it if I did not have to worry about potential strangulation while I did so.”
Ragnarok let out an annoyed growl. “Fine.”
Valkyr paused a moment. Then, he changed the subject. “Hel is bearing an egg.” His smile increased.
And Ragnarok, for the first time in a long while, found a smile too. “Congratulations. I am sure it will hatch quickly. Have you decided on a name?”
“Not yet,” said Valkyr. “Though, I think I would like my father’s name to carry on in some form.” He paused uncertainly. “It would mean a great deal if you would consider being a mentor to him – or her – once it has hatched.”
Ragnarok blinked and his scowl returned. “Let it hatch first. Then we will see.” Then his brow relaxed into a softer, resigned expression. “Though, I suppose it will be difficult to say no. To you of all dragons.”
“Thank you, my Lord.”
There it was again. The Title. Its use seemed to have some unclear but tangible effect and suddenly Ragnarok was King once more, and everything was business.
He turned to Valkyr. “I am retiring for the evening. We will attack at dawn. You will rouse the troops at sunrise and brief them. Then we will head for the capital city en-masse,” said Ragnarok. “Their leader will be given one hour and one chance at surrender. After that, we will destroy any resistance they offer.” Even as the words tumbled from his mouth he could scarcely believe it. He was actually doing it. Ordering the destruction and conquest of an entire country. An entire people! For no reason other than greed, duty and expectation. Ludicrous! He shouldn’t have this power! Why was no-one stopping him?!
Valkyr blinked in surprise. “You do not intend a surprise attack? You plan to offer them surrender?”
Ragnarok growled angrily. “Acquisition, not destruction, Valkyr! Pay attention, or I will find another who can! Their city doubtless contains treasure. If I can avoid destroying it, then so I will!”
“Yes, of course,” said Valkyr. “And the natives?”
Ragnarok composed his features into a careful nonchalance. “Are of no concern. Once their organised resistance has been crushed, the remainder of the population are no threat. They are little more than scenery. The country, its land and its riches will be ours; the populace can be largely ignored.”
There was a brief pause and for a single, horrific moment, he thought Valkyr was going to object and put him in quite the awkward position. He had an excuse for not wanting to destroy the city. He had no excuse for not wanting to murder hundreds of ponies, except for not wanting to. Was that so abnormal? How was it that he seemed to be the only dragon with these reservations? And how was it, that it seemed like the only dragon with the inclination to prevent a massacre, was going to all but ensure one took place?
Why did life have to be so ironic?
At length though, Valkyr nodded. “As you say, Ragnarok.”
Ragnarok tore his stare from the north and turned it once more into the valley, eyeing a nice spot to the east of the low ridge that he had already claimed for the night. The slope of the ridge would separate him from the rest of his troops and afford him the measure of privacy befitting his position. With a final nod at Valkyr, Ragnarok spread his wings and glided smoothly from the hilltop. A few moments later he alighted at the eastern base of the ridge, and lay down.
He shifted uncomfortably for long moments, trying to quell a growing, sickening knot in the pit of his belly. He had had so many options, once! And now...
He could call the whole thing off! Except he couldn’t. He had come too far. Promised too much. He was here now, a brand new king with an army of seventy-one dragons, all eager for new riches and who could not simply be recalled with a snap of his fingers and no explanation.
And what explanation could he offer? Scruples? Who was he to say that his unique moral misgivings took priority over the hopes and desires of every single one of his citizens?
He tried to console himself. Perhaps it would not be so bad. Perhaps the Equestrians would see sense and surrender. Perhaps there would be no need to destroy their city or their lives.
He grimaced. Everything he knew of their leader – rumours mostly, to be sure – suggested that she was protective, strong and self-assured. There was going to be a battle. There would be fire, and screams, and blood before the end.
All in his name.
Ragnarok.
Tomorrow was going to be very far from a good day.
He lay on his back and looked to the heavens, a single small grey cloud overhead marring his view of the fading sky. At least it would be over quickly. With such strength of numbers as he had, any battle would last no longer than a day and likely much less. He closed his eyes, and as he did so, a chilling thought struck. A final conscious flicker before the stress of the day claimed him into sleep:
Equestria would not be enough. Not for long. Greed and success would cause his people to expect more. More conquests. More lands. More treasures. And... and...
No-one was going to be able to stop him...
Had he, or Valkyr, or any of the other sentries for that matter, been paying just a little more attention, they might have noticed that that single grey cloud, alone in the otherwise perfectly clear sky, was drifting slowly northwards, rather against the wind.
–––
Sleep left suddenly and Celestia started awake. She took a moment to breathe, and sat up slowly, her silken sheets falling easily aside. The dizziness and the cobwebs that came from such an abrupt return to consciousness took a few seconds to pass, and once they had she was able to think clearly and she hung her head.
Another night and she had made no progress at all. The two good ideas she had in the past month had finally petered out to nothing. Two hundred years now of trying to reach her sister, and still she had nothing to show for it. But even as frustration threatened to conquer her, she raised her head. She wouldn’t break her promise. She was not going to give up on her. Ever.
She gave a rueful, bitter smile and shook her head. Even if it took forever. Time was one thing she wasn’t short of.
Presently her attention alighted on the double doors to her chamber, the raised voices from just outside, and the apparent reason for her sudden awakening.
“–nearly midnight!”
“I don’t care! Wake her immediately!”
Celestia frowned. The first voice was one of her night-guards. The second she was sure she recognised as her pegasus Guard-Captain. He sounded nervous.
Slipping from her bed, Celestia used her magic to clothe herself in a plush white dressing gown with thick purple trim. Then she stood before the doors and, with her magic, opened them. Beyond, in the hallway, the shocked face of Captain Stormrunner looked to her from the sentry at her door. Then, without her extending him an invitation, and offering no greeting himself, he strode quickly into her chambers.
Celestia was about to say something, but her gaze was drawn back to the door as a second visitor entered with great hesitation. A young pegasus mare with a powder-blue coat and a free-flowing mane of royal-blue streaked with silver. A quartet of cute, dark freckles decorated each of her cheeks, and a pair of smart, round spectacles framed her lively grey eyes while her cutie-mark appeared to be three fluffy clouds. She stepped nervously into the room, head low, her eyes wide and darting, her footing uncertain, and when she saw Celestia stood there in front of her she let out a tiny Eeep, and threw herself into a bow so low, Celestia thought she might actually try and force herself through the floor.
She was terrified.
“Tell the Princess exactly what you told me,” said Stormrunner.
The frightened mare looked up at Celestia, and Celestia put on her most reassuring smile. That seemed to have a slightly calming effect and the pony before her took a long breath. When she spoke the words came quickly, frantically, but she was just about able to stop herself tripping over them.
“Your majesty. I–I’m Sky. Just Sky. No other names. I’m a trader, I guess. I mean, I sell things to the griffons mostly, and we–”
“Sky,” interjected Stormrunner.
“It’s alright, Captain,” said Celestia soothingly. Sky was still the picture of fear.
“Forgive me, Princess, but it is not,” said Stormrunner. Then he looked back at the mare beside him. “Sky...”
Sky looked up at Celestia. She took another breath and visibly steeled herself. “I have a cloud I use to move all my stuff around when I go trading. This evening, I was coming back home over this hill range I know, and... I saw Dragons there. I was really scared, so I hid inside my cloud so they wouldn’t see me. But... I’ve never seen real dragons before and, since they couldn’t see me, I got a little bit closer and... I heard them. Talking, I mean. I think it was their leader. He... he was saying they were going to attack Canterlot. Tomorrow.”
Celestia’s eyes widened. Her head snapped up to Stormrunner, who only nodded solemnly. She quickly returned her attention to Sky and spoke softly. “Are you sure, Sky? Are you certain?”
“Yes.” The expression on the poor pony’s face made it clear that she wished she wasn’t.
“How many dragons, Sky?”
Sky dipped her head and her eyes darted for a moment, thinking. Then a defeated expression crossed her face and she looked back up nervously.
“Lots.”
Her head hung once more and she averted her gaze, apparently ashamed that she had been unable to give a better answer. “I came here straight away and told one of the guards. Then the guard took me to Mister– I mean Captain Stormrunner and I told him. And he brought me here to tell you.”
Celestia raised her head. She made her expression one of thoughtfulness, and her pose one of calm composure, but... inside she was reeling. Dragons! Why? They had never had any quarrel before now. They largely kept within their borders, and as a race they had never shown any inclination towards attack or war. There had been whispers that a new King had ascended recently, but Celestia hadn’t devoted any efforts to learning more. After all, nothing else had changed, and she had so many issues to juggle at home already. But now it seemed that complacency, that inaction, was turning out to be the most horrendous mistake.
She had failed to perceive a threat until it was too late. Until it was here on her doorstep. She had put all of Equestria at risk. There was no excuse. She had been ignorant. Negligent. She had failed in her first duty as a ruler.
She lit her horn and a moment later her dressing gown was tossed aside. She looked at Stormrunner and frowned. “Captain...”
Stormrunner snapped a salute and began without hesitation. “Every guard on duty is already fortifying the city, your highness, and we are about to begin evacuating the civilians to the caves within the mountain. When the dragons arrive, we will be ready for them. We will send them packing.”
Celestia nodded automatically. Canterlot was defensible and the Guard was exceptionally trained. With the vast majority of the military garrisoned within the city, once it was properly prepared it would be extremely difficult to breach. They could weather the attack. It was a sensible plan. It was a workable plan. It was a safe plan.
And then she thought of the rest of Equestria. Imagined the small scattered settlements of ponies beyond the capital that were still finding their feet, lying all but unprotected as dragons ravaged them, while she remained safe behind her walls and wards... and suddenly, it was the wrong plan.
She met Stormrunner’s gaze, and while outwardly her composure never faltered, the breath she drew was a nervous one. She had fought and defeated powerful enemies before, but in terms of fighting a large-scale, conventional military campaign... it hadn’t been done. She had ruled Equestria peacefully for a very long time – a fact of which she was justifiably proud – and in matters of actual warfare and tactics she was simply inexperienced. She trusted her Guard-Captains with strategy for exactly this reason, and now she was about to countermand the judgement of one of her best.
But it was a simple equation: she would not allow a single citizen of Equestria to be put at risk because of her mistake. Because of her complacency. And the equation had only one solution.
“How many of the Guard can be mustered in one hour?”
“Princess?”
“Everyone on duty, everyone you have to pull out of bed, everyone stationed elsewhere that could be here within the hour. How many?”
“A–about one-hundred and fifty, your majesty.”
Celestia blinked. So few...
Then her gaze fell upon Sky, the terrified but brave young mare who had risked everything to bring her this warning, and her resolve hardened. Not a single pony would be put at risk.
“Muster them, Stormrunner. And send for the Master-at-Arms. I am going to need my armour.” She frowned. “I won’t wait behind the walls of my city while a hostile army roams Equestria with impunity. We are going after them, before they can do any damage.”
Stormrunner was clearly surprised, but he was over it quickly. He snapped another salute and, with a nod towards Sky to follow him, he trotted for the still-open doors of the chamber.
“Sky,” said Celestia as the mare reached the threshold, causing her to look around. “Thank you.”
Sky simply smiled. A nervous smile to be sure, but a smile nonetheless. Then she left and the chamber door closed behind her.
Alone once more, Celestia let out a long breath and her composure fell away as though a broken china shell. Doubt assaulted her immediately and would not release its grip. What if this was the wrong decision? What if, by being drawn out, she was simply leaving Canterlot defenceless? What if, by concentrating her forces she was playing into the dragons’ hands?
She turned to the far side of the room, to her large window and balcony and of course, there was the moon. High in the sky. Three-quarters full and waning, the round shadows on its surface forming the fragmented shape of a horse’s head. She looked up at it with sad eyes, took a deep, long breath, and let it slowly out.
“Are you there, Luna?” she asked, her voice little more than a whisper.
There was no response to her question, of course. No voice made reply. Yet in her head, Celestia heard her sister, her cadence soft and lilting from a time long past, when they were both happy together. Even after all this time, the memory of her sister had never dulled, and it was easy to combine Luna’s character and the sound of her voice into the replies she would surely make, were she here.
“I... don’t know what to do,” admitted Celestia ruefully, her gaze locked on the moon.
In her head, Luna’s sweet voice offered her calm words of encouragement.
“What if I am wrong? What if I do this, fail, and leave Equestria open to ruin? I could lose everyone. Is it not best to protect those I can? To take the safer course?”
Luna pointed out that the ‘safer course’ would only mean that not everypony was safe.
Celestia sighed. “What would you do?” she asked in a whisper. “What would we do, if you were still here?”
Luna told her. She agreed with her. The safer course was not an option as far as she was concerned. There was much risk, but so much more to be gained from success. And she would succeed. Luna was confident.
Celestia smiled a brief, fleeting smile. “I wish you were here. I wish I didn’t have to do this alone...” she said.
In her head, Luna told her that she was with her. Always. That as long as she remembered her, she would never be–
KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK!
–Alone...
Celestia’s warm reverie vanished in a flash. She looked around at her empty, darkened chambers, silent and still, completely devoid of any other presence. Just as they had been for oh-so-long now.
She took a final, neutral look at the moon and at last turned towards the doors, even as the knocking came again, more insistently this time.
“Your Highness? It’s the Master-at-Arms. You sent for me? I have your armour here. Are you alright?”
“I am fine. Come in, Master.” She would make sure that every pony was safe.
–––
She hated it. It wasn’t really the armor itself, for it was beautiful. Gold in colour, though decidedly not in construction for it was far too light, and far too tough. It had been a gift, presented to her by the EUP what seemed like an age ago now, and ever since then it had been languishing, happily unused behind a locked glass cabinet in the castle armoury.
No, it was not the armour, it was the idea that she hated. She hated the fact that she had to wear it. That she was being forced into it by a vicious threat from a distant land. She had taken great pride in the fact that she had never had to don it before now. She should be allowed to watch over her ponies in peace, and what right did anyone else have to say otherwise?
She hated it. But as the Master-at-Arms finished buckling her chest-plate into place – a gleaming golden cuirass adorned with a lavish relief of the sun – she had to admit that it was a thing of expert craftsponyship. Strong, but light and agile and allowing her a full range of movement, the chest-armor was complimented by matching golden greaves upon each leg, and a forehead and muzzle guard that took the place of her crown, with a central circular hole through which her horn protruded.
The Master-at-Arms finished up the final strap and his horn extinguished. Celestia thanked him and then, finally, left her chambers, heading for the castle courtyard where as many of the Guard as could be scrounged would be gathering.
She stepped from the large, main castle entrance and looked out over the courtyard from the top of the dozen wide steps. And was impressed with what she saw. Stormrunner’s estimate, it seemed, had proved conservative, for there were at least two-hundred ponies crowding the plaza, all in full armor, chattering nervously among themselves. But it was not just the ponies. Beyond the throng, on a wide green on the far side of the crowd from her, dozens of chariots stood harness-ready. Many were empty, but others were loaded with bows, quivers, spears, swords and all manner of weaponry. All made ready in less than an hour. The amount that had been accomplished so quickly by her loyal subjects filled her with a sense of pride. And it was sobering to think that she now had to ensure that loyalty had not been tragically misplaced.
She was about to raise her head and address all who stood before her, when her attention caught on a pony, front row centre, having difficulty adjusting a helmet that was far too big for her. “Sky?”
Sky looked up with nervous but eager eyes. She smiled and snapped a quick, imperfect salute, causing the loose helmet on her head to skew comically and almost cover her right eye, jostling her spectacles.
“Sky, what are you doing here?”
“I’m helping fight off the dragons. Uh, your majesty.” She readjusted her helmet and resumed wrestling with the chin-strap with her hooves.
“Sky... you’re not a soldier. You’re not a fighter. You should stay here in the city, where it is safe.”
“I know the land and I know exactly where I saw them. I’ll take you straight to them,” she said, still fidgeting with the helmet. Then she looked up and met Celestia’s gaze. “We need to get there real soon, don’t we?”
“Sky, we have maps. You can show us where you saw them on those. You don’t have to come.”
But Sky seemed to be ignoring her now, her tongue sticking out of her mouth and her full concentration focused on fumbling with the blasted chin-strap that she was never going to get right.
“Highness!” Stormrunner approached her through the throng with another, bearded pegasus at his side. “We have amassed two-hundred-and-four troops, including...” he indicated the older, but wiry and athletic-looking pony beside him with a little smile. On cue, he dipped his head and took a deep bow.
“Your majesty.”
Celestia smiled a real, warm smile, and nodded deeply in familiar greeting. “Admiral Fairweather. The Wonderbolts are not, strictly speaking, a military outfit anymore.”
“Nevertheless,” replied the Admiral with a smile, “We are yours to command.” He straightened from his bow and met her gaze. “We broke the Cloudsdale-to-Canterlot record to get here in time, your majesty. We wouldn’t miss this.”
“Princess, if you will come with me, the royal chariot has been readied,” said Stormrunner. He turned and began to make way through the noisy crowd. Celestia started to follow, but turned just before the crowd closed behind her. Sky had finally given up on the helmet it seemed, allowing it to rest loosely on her head, and was instead looking about herself. To every side, small groups of Guards, most almost a head taller than her, were talking: closed ranks trading a little nervous banter among themselves, and leaving Sky to cut a separate, lonesome figure with the air of someone just a little too nervous to ask what was supposed to happen next. And yet also with the air of someone who wasn’t going anywhere.
Celestia turned back towards her. “Sky. I will need you to ride with me, and show me exactly where you saw the dragons.”
Sky looked back and beamed. She trotted to Celestia’s side, and they headed for her chariot.
Twenty minutes later, and with every chariot filled with either guards or weapons and harnessed to a pair of pegasi, the entirety of the assembled mass took skywards, ascending into the night.
Eighty-three pegasi, fourty-four earth-guards, sixty-nine unicorns, eight Wonderbolts, thirty-nine chariots... two hundred and four brave ponies, striking southwards...
...behind one Princess.
–––
Her chariot was pulled almost silently through the still, peaceful night sky, the stark light of the ever-present moon seeming to cast constant judgment upon her decision to leave the city.
Celestia was silent, her mind working, her stare focused directly ahead, and doubt was ever her companion. Thoughts of the many horrible ways she could fail were a permanent blight on her consciousness.
Presently though, she realised she had been neglecting her other companion. Throughout the flight, Sky had sat neatly and quietly at her left side on the chariot, her own gaze facing deliberately forward. And as Celestia looked down to check she was alright she was surprised to discover that, without any conscious thought or impulse, her own wing had extended loosely out and around the pegasus. As though it were a shield around her, and a shelter above.
Sky didn’t even seem to have noticed, so intense was her stare into the dark landscape ahead as forests and rivers glided by beneath. But she looked less nervous now than even she had when Celestia had first seen her in her chambers, in spite of the fact that the danger was only drawing closer.
Celestia gave her a quick, loose hug with her wing, just to break her trance. “Are you alright?” she asked.
Sky looked up at her for a moment. Then she looked back ahead. “No.”
Celestia nodded. An honest answer, to be sure. “How much further?”
“Not much,” said Sky without inflection. “About ten minutes, probably.”
Celestia nodded. She turned her gaze to the right, where Fairweather was flying some meters distant, keeping pace with her chariot. She motioned him to fly closer, so that she could speak without shouting too loudly. “We are going to need water. A large lake or a wide, slow river would be ideal. See what you can find.”
“Yes, ma’am,” said Fairweather. But before he could peel away, Sky piped up.
“I know where there’s a big lake,” she said, pointing a hoof towards the ten-o’clock position. “A league or so that way. It’s not far from where I saw them.”
Celestia nodded, then turned back towards Fairweather. “Fly ahead and ensure it is safe.”
“Of course.” Fairweather turned his head away and barked, “Windshear! Avalanche! With me!” Then he propelled himself ahead of the chariot at speed, banking left away into the night, and an instant later two pegasus mares joined him in formation.
They returned within minutes to report that the lake was there and it would suit their purposes well. And so, Celestia, and her tiny army of ponies and chariots soon made landing on the southern shoreline. The moonlight reflected upon the inky black water, and the wide dirt shore gave way to a flat grassland plain in every direction. Miles to the south, a small series of three low hills, cloaked in blackness, broke the horizon. Sky pointed them out. “There. That’s where they are.” She brought her hoof down, and Celestia saw her stifle a shiver.
Celestia regarded the distant hills and nodded solemnly.
“Fairweather,” she said, bringing him to the fore once again. “I need that ridgeline scouted. Send your fastest and ensure they are not seen.”
“I’ll do it...” Sky piped up, an expression of sheer terror on her face.
“No, Sky,” said Celestia firmly. Then looked back up. “Admiral...”
Fairweather saluted, then turned away. “Avalanche! I need you again!”
Stormrunner was already marshalling the ponies to order down by the lake, and most of the contingent took the opportunity to take a drink at the lakeside. But not Sky. She seemed determined to stick to Celestia like glue, and Celestia took her to a quiet spot a little way up the shore.
“Sky,” she said softly. “You’ve nothing to prove to anyone. You’ve already been brave enough. You don’t need to do any more.”
Sky looked to the ground and nodded. Then she looked back up. “It just... it feels like it’s my fault, you know? Like... if I hadn’t seen those dragons then all this wouldn’t be happening. I feel like I’m responsible, so... I’m the one who has to do everything to stop it.” Then she shook her head and looked back down.
“Sky, you know that’s not true. None of this is your fault. If it weren’t for you, Equestria would have suffered a devastating attack tomorrow, and we would have been totally unprepared. I’m so proud of you. And so grateful that you came straight to warn me. I can understand that you want to do everything you can, but you’ve done more than enough, and you can’t do it all yourself.”
“I know. Jus’ that’s how it feels is all.” Sky looked back up at her. “Y–you’re still gonna let me help, right?”
Celestia smiled. A real, happy smile. Sky may be terrified, but she just had so much spirit! Then the smile fell away. There was still business at hoof. “Sky... the leader of the dragons. You think you saw him? Describe him to me.”
“Uh... well. He’s big. Like, even-for-a-dragon big. Dark orange – well, more bronze-y scales, I guess. Square jaw. He’s got two horns on his head, only, one of them’s broken. He looks kinda like he’s angry pretty much all the time.”
Celestia nodded. Then, on impulse... “Why, Sky? When you saw a group of dragons... that must have been terrifying. Why did you get closer?”
“Curious I guess,” she replied. “I’ve seen lots of stuff travelling, but never a real dragon before. Wondered what they were like, is all. Wondered if they were friendly. Heh,” she chuckled nervously. “Turns out? They’re not.”
Celestia’s happy smile returned. Her ponies. So bright. So optimistic. So curious. And so eager to see the best in everyone, no matter who they were. And the thought that anyone would want to hurt them for that... that made her angry.
“Your majesty!” A unicorn guard trotted up. “The scout has returned.”
“Find Captain Stormrunner and tell him to join us,” said Celestia, and the guard smartly turned and cantered for the lake shore.
A minute later, Stormrunner joined Celestia, Sky, Fairweather and Avalanche in a circular huddle. Avalanche, a dark-grey coated pegasus with a dull, dark red mane and blue eyes, began drawing in the soft dirt of the lake shore with her hoof:
“Okay. The three peaks you can see are actually part of a wide ring of five hills,” she started, scratching out a rough circle. “One lookout on each hill, and the rest of the dragons holed up here, mostly west of the centre of the valley.” She stabbed her hoof off-centre in the middle of the circle she’d made. “Small ridge here...” she continued, drawing a short vertical line in the right half of the circle, “And one more dragon right here. Some kind of General, at a guess. Anyway, aside from the sentries, they all look asleep.”
“How many?” asked Stormrunner.
“Sixty-seven on first count, seventy-four on the second,” she said. Fairweather had a cheeky smile as he raised a curious eyebrow at her, and she stared defiantly back. “It’s dark, Boss!” She turned to the Princess. “No more than seventy-five, ma’am.”
Celestia nodded. That was even more than she’d expected, but the fact that they were all clustered so close, and within a natural depression, worked to their advantage.
She took a couple of steps closer to the hill-range to the south, beyond which as many as seventy-five vicious dragons were intent on destroying her home and bringing harm to her kind, loyal ponies. Doubt clawed at her yet again. If she made one wrong decision now... she would lose everything. “Stormrunner?” She looked back over her shoulder at him. “We’re going to need a tempest...”
–––
Spaced an even distance of around ten feet apart, sixteen unicorn guards stood along a section of the southern shore of the lake, their horns illuminated with magical auras.
They worked, directing their magic into the lake, causing the water to heat. It was tough, given the sheer amount of water, but while using more unicorns would make the task easier, it might create too much light and risk detection from afar.
They took turns, new unicorns swapping out with their colleagues as they became too tired to continue, and gradually the water in the lake finally began to give off steam.
Steam which was collected by two large groups of pegasus ponies flying in a pair of tiered circles above the lake, a combination of pegasi guards and Wonderbolts, led by Avalanche and supervised by Fairweather. They expertly condensed and compacted the steam as it rose, manipulating it to serve their purposes by forming it into thick banks of fog, and large dark, grey clouds.
Sky was up there too, part of Avalanche’s group working on making the large, thick fog banks. Celestia had simply mentioned that she could help with the preparations, and she had jumped right in. It might have been a while since flight school but Basic Weather Mechanics was a skill no pegasus forgot.
It wouldn’t take long for all to be ready, but until then Celestia took herself for a quiet walk along the shore with Stormrunner.
“Captain, I would have you speak freely,” said Celestia.
“Of course, your highness.” There was a short but certain pause. “What would you have me say?”
Celestia let out a disappointed breath. Stormrunner was an excellent captain in terms of authority and organisation, but he wasn’t exactly known for his outspoken opinions. “My decision to leave Canterlot; to face the dragons here. Do you think it was a mistake?” she asked, almost as a prompt.
“Now that we are here? No.”
Celestia paused, hoping for more. Then she took another breath and tried again. “Have I been rash or shortsighted? Do you think I’ve taken too big a risk?”
“We have the element of surprise. That will be key. I believe we have a good chance of victory.”
Celestia nodded while at the same time inwardly shaking her head. She wanted to grab hold of him and shake him. She wanted to yell at him. She wanted him to stop being so damn professional and... talk to her! “I have... been worried that I was making the wrong choices,” she admitted.
“Do not worry, your highness. I believe we will succeed,” said Stormrunner. He didn’t smile. He didn’t even make eye-contact.
Celestia sighed under her breath, but her composure remained. Whatever conversation she was hoping for; whatever comfort she sought, she wasn’t going to find here. And if she couldn’t talk to Stormrunner...
The truth was, she hadn’t had anyone she could talk to for two-hundred years. And at times like this, when she felt she really needed it... it seemed like there was no one she’d ever be able to talk to again. She was alone.
She couldn’t help but steal a quick, forlorn glance at the moon overhead, even as four of her pegasi guards maneuvered a large thick cloud over its face, blocking its light.
Nevermind. There were more important matters. Her own solace would have to wait until... well, never. But for now there were other issues. “Stormrunner, our goal is to drive the dragons back into their own land. I need you to ensure that all of the troops understand this. Lethal force is not to be used except in self-defence, and only if absolutely necessary. Is this clear?”
“Yes, your highness.”
“Good. There is one other thing...” she paused with slight hesitation. “I want you to keep Sky away from me.”
“Princess? Is she bothering you?”
“No, not at all,” said Celestia with a faint smile. Then she looked down, bringing a gleaming, gold-clad forehoof to her gleaming, gold-coloured breastplate. “I believe she will want to be near me when the fighting starts. If the dragons respond violently, I will be a target. And not a very subtle one. I don’t want her put at risk.”
“I understand.”
“Good. Thank you, Captain.” They had walked about half-way round the shore now, to the northern edge. She looked back over the lake to find a huge bank of compressed fog hanging over it, and above the fog a massive formation of thick, black cloud. She nodded.
“I think we are ready.”
–––
Lying on his belly on the northernmost peak, Valkyr grumbled to himself. There was nothing quite like poor weather to sap the morale, and from the crystal-clear night that it had been, the weather had decidedly taken a turn for the worse.
First, a stray cloud had completely obscured the moon and stubbornly refused to move, casting everything into clinging, cloying dark. Then, sweeping from the north, a huge fog bank had drifted in, and was even now settling into and over the valley. It was almost as thick as soup, and he could see nothing further than about fifteen meters away. Certainly his role as a sentry was now defunct.
And there was worse to come. He spread his wings and took flight, ascending over the fog to do a quick, aerial circuit of the valley, and... ugh. Above the fog there was a thin band of clear air, but above that there even seemed to be another layer of clouds which looked decidedly like rain.
No, now it was thunder.
No, wait... lightning!
Lightning... striking down through the fog into the valley! Repeatedly! Constantly! A continuous series of thin lightning forks, slicing down to where the troops were sleeping!
Then the rain started in earnest. A deluge. A torrent. A monsoon of water falling from the clouds above. He heard startled shouts coming from the valley below, though the fog prevented him from seeing anything beneath. And now the wind was picking up too. Heavy gusts, blowing him off balance and making it difficult to remain in the air with any degree of control. And the gales grew stronger, blowing always from the north towards the south, reaching hurricane force!
The lightning intensified, striking with fierce cracks. The wind roared with a fury unlike any other. And each drop of rain seemed like a hammer-blow against his hide.
And then, from the clouds above, diving in synchronised formation towards the valley, a legion of ponies. Flying, winged horses pulling golden chariots that, against all probability, somehow remained in the air. And on the back of these chariots, more ponies. All in armor, and all armed with bows.
Valkyr snarled, preparing to draw breath and unleash a torrent of flame that would surely knock several from the sky. But even as he did so, a pony armed with one such bow took aim at him and let an arrow loose.
The arrow struck his left wing harmlessly, his hide easily capable of resisting such a pathetic attack. He was about to give a sinister chuckle and introduce his would-be assailant to a world of fire, when he suddenly lost his balance in the air and began to fall. Shocked, he turned to examine his struck wing to find that it was completely covered in ice! Actually encased, in a block of ice that had come from nowhere! He fell into the fog and a moment later landed heavily on the ground, his senses almost completely knocked from him.
The shouts from the troops had turned to panicked roars by now. The fog was clearing, chased away by the wind and the rain, and as visibility slowly returned, all was hysteria among the dragons.
The lightning strikes ravaged the ground, throwing up great gouts of dirt and mud that confused and disoriented. The thunder continued to deafen. The small wood within the valley was ablaze with fire and cast everything nearby into a violent orange hue, shadows dancing and flickering in a tempest of confusion. Arrows rained down from above, and from whatever point they impacted, a large chunk of ice immediately formed and spread. Dragons were being struck left, right and centre, some with entire limbs and wings immobilised in frozen water. And it wasn’t just the arrows either: magic was afoot too. A wide variety of offensive spells cast by unicorns from the rear of the chariots as they were all pulled in circles around the valley by their pegasi bretheren. They struck dragons on joints and wings, causing pain. Flash-pop spells assaulted their eyes and blinded, deafened and dizzied them.
Every dragon on the ground found themselves either dazed, restricted, or else going to the aid of one who was. They blew fire on their comrades to free their trapped limbs from the ice, and those who had been struck by lightning or magic were roused, shaken, and brought back to their senses... only for the cycle to repeat again!
An organised counter-attack was impossible, and the few dragons that tried to make reply to their foes found no effect to their attacks. They could not fly without being felled by an ice-arrow or magic spell, not to mention the crippling wind that seemed to have little effect on the ponies who mastered it. And the ponies themselves were always too far away for a flame attack to have any effect.
Then, the ponies seemed to relent slightly. Their attacks became less intense and their chariots ascended higher into the sky, above the level of the hilltops. But before the dragons could even think of consolidating their position, there came a tornado from the north.
Huge, with a funnel at least a hundred and fifty meters wide, churning the ground beneath, tearing trees from their roots and devouring everything in its path.
Collectively the dragons fled. Valkyr, still disoriented and trying desperately to keep from blacking out, felt himself aided to the air by two of his comrades. As a group the dragons helped their colleagues to their claws and to their senses and took flight, desperate to avoid being consumed by the whirlwind bearing down on them. With the wind still blowing gales from the north, south was the only direction in which they could realistically fly.
Every dragon turned tail and evacuated the valley over the southern hills.
Except one.
–––
It was going better than expected. Better than she had any right to hope. Better than she could have wished for in her wildest dreams.
The dragons had looked fearsome, but they lacked any semblance of discipline or structure. They had panicked immediately and never looked like recovering. Attacks from her archers with military-grade ice-arrows, and magic from her best spell-casters were keeping them completely suppressed, and even now several were taking to the air in desperation, striving for the southern hills and safety, and more looked ready to join them. In a few moments a massive tornado – for which once again, she had Fairweather, Avalanche and the Wonderbolts to thank in large part – should finally drive them out of the valley.
Stormrunner was supervising Sky at as safe a distance above the melee as possible, and she was helping to generate the wind that was pushing the dragons away to the south as they fled. Celestia herself had eschewed her chariot and was flying alone, confident she could deal with any threats the dragons might present, and not wishing to draw attacks to any of her guards.
And then, she saw him. At the base of the lee of the ridge that almost separated the valley into two. A large, bronze-scaled dragon with a half-broken horn on his head. The one whom Sky had believed was the leader. The one who Avalanche had believed was the General. The one who Celestia took to be the orchestrator of this whole nightmare.
He was still. Lying there. He appeared unconscious. He appeared... asleep!
Somehow the thunder had not woken him. Somehow the rain had not bothered him. And being in the shelter of the ridge had kept him from the worst the wind and storms had to offer, especially since they were concentrated further west anyway.
Even before she’d made the conscious decision, she found herself angling towards him, diving quickly. She landed atop the ridge, putting herself above him at a height of perhaps thirty feet. And she looked down upon him with fury.
Him. He had organised this army. He had brought them here, to the very doorstep of Equestria. He had every intention of bringing pain and loss and suffering to her ponies who had done nothing to deserve it! And if given the chance, he would certainly again...
Anger built quickly, her composure forgotten. Her little ponies. So innocent. So curious. So eager to reach out and offer love and warmth to all they met. So willing to see the best in others no matter who they were. And he wanted to hurt them!
No! She wouldn’t allow it. She had one duty above all others: to keep her subjects safe. She had failed to recognise the danger he posed. She had failed to stop this before it started. And if tonight even one of her ponies was hurt, she would have failed them in every possible way. Because of Him!
She felt her jaw clench and her scowl deepen. She felt herself plant her hooves and lower her horn. She felt the anger within her rise to such intensity that it seemed to burn!
How dare he! She would stop this here. She would make sure he could never hurt anyone. She would do whatever was necessary to keep her ponies safe!
And yet for all her anger, for all her righteous rage... she could not. Not while he lay there asleep like a lazy, overgrown oaf, oblivious to the frightened roars of his army, a stupid half-grimace on his ugly lips, and her fury only grew at the realisation that her morality was delaying her from executing her duty.
Celestia lit her horn, her golden aura deepening and intensifying. Half-a-dozen similar auras appeared over the dragon, around wrists, ankles, neck and tail, strong enough to immobilise him completely.
There would only be one question. She would give him one chance. She would offer him ONE opportunity. And if she felt he could not be redeemed, coerced or reasoned with... there would be one outcome!
Her anger peaked. Unable to restrain herself, she bellowed with a cacophonous shout, her Royal Canterlot Voice unused for more than half a century but brought forth now by a rage both raw and passionate. Her cry echoed across the whole valley; a scream at the top of her lungs. One question. One word.
“WHY?!”