Big Mac nudged the flap of his tent aside and strode onto the morning dew. The sky was overcast and dark, with rain falling intermittently and the soft roll of thunder echoing from the Macintosh hills. He took a deep breath and waited for the watch shifts to end. He wanted to be ready to receive reports as soon as they came in.
The day was like any other in the past month. The soldiers of Mac’s Emerald Sea Company milled about, cleaning gear and grazing; the birds and rodents that had once inhabited the knolls remained starkly absent; and the air hung thick, weighed down by fear and anger. Though lately, it seemed like more than that; hatred. The air stank of hatred, pushing out the love that used bring Equestria to life. The atmosphere chafed him. Mac shook himself and huffed out through his nose. The pressure was burdensome, so constant and repressed as to border on painful. But there was nothing for it. He squared his shoulders and set his jaw, determined not to start the day off in a bad mood.
The tension had been building since scouts last month brought reports of a changeling horde gathering in the wasteland on the other side of the Macintosh hills. It had been rumored for decades that the changelings came from somewhere in the Badlands, and that, while they’d been positioning themselves around Equestria for years, the bulk of their race still lived somewhere in the crags. It appeared that those rumors were true.
Mac had sent for, and received reinforcements from Canterlot, but, with every passing day, he lost some faith that it would be enough. Celestia had sent enough companies to make up a full battalion, each with its own CO, but the horde grew by the week. Reports of their numbers varied by the day, but no estimate placed them lower than a full brigade. The ponies couldn’t fight numbers like that. Mac had increased drills for his troops and invested heavily in new strategies, but his outlook remained grim.
Don’t start the day off ill tempered, he chided himself.
The sun climbed a little higher, wisping morning dew from the grass as scouts started funneling in to give him their reports. Wildfire was the first, her pale face somber and drawn as she came in to land. She was returning from a check-in with Canterlot. Mac smoothed his face, trying not to let his anxiety at her expression show through. News these days was never good, and he didn’t expect that that would change anytime soon. Wildfire was an optimistic pony though. It would have taken something serious to hurt her morale.
“Ready, Major?” she asked as she touched down, hooves coming to the ground in a soft tattoo.
“Eeyup,” came his brief reply.
“It’s big news, sir, and not the good kind,” her voice tightened over the last words, “Omega’s been hit.” Big Mac’s eyes narrowed and he nodded for her to continue.
“Hard, sir. It’s gone. There are a few survivors, but not many. It was a massacre. Greater than 90% casualties, and the ones that made it....some of them...some of them are messed up.” He cocked an eyebrow at her.
“I can’t explain it, sir. The changelings kept ‘em in those pods we’ve been finding. When they get out. They’ve got nothing left in ‘em. Nothin’ good, at any rate.” She hesitated as if wondering how much she should say, then seemed to make a decision, finishing, “It’s covered more completely in the write-up, sir.” Mac took a breath and steeled himself. He already knew the answer, but he had to ask.
“Shining Armor?”
“Gone, sir. The royal family’s in grieving.” Her voice shook and she cast her face down to hide her expression. “We all are.” Mac nodded his acceptance and gave them both a moment to compose themselves. He'd met the prince only occasionally. Shining Armor had been an upstanding pony and a solid friend to any who knew him.
“Dismissed,” he told her quietly once he felt that he could speak without his voice cracking. She snapped a salute and flew off, wings flapping gently. So much for not starting the day off in a bad mood.
The rest of the scouts came one after the other. He listened carefully to each, setting the news of Omega outpost and the prince aside. He didn’t have time for grief. He had a war to fight.
Reports of the changeling’s numbers today sent chills down his spine. Nearly half the changeling force had disappeared overnight, somehow moving when none of the scouts could see them. It wasn’t strange for groups of changelings, even large ones, to split off from the larger armies, but the scale had never been quite so massive. Mac’s hooves itched. They wouldn’t just disappear. They were out there somewhere, plotting something or hurting someone. Probably both. At least, when they were in the horde, he could’ve kept tabs on them. He told the pegasus who'd given him the report to alert the watch, and she started on her way. The ponies had been expecting an attack since they’d set up camp, but Mac was certain that it was imminent now.
Once the last scout had finished her report, Mac double checked that everypony had left a write-up on his desk, making a note to read them as soon as he finished his morning business. Then he made the rounds about camp. He checked on the watch-towers first, and told his troops what they needed to hear- that he suspected an attack and that he wanted them on their most alert today. He left them with an order to spread the word as they could. He made it clear that everypony was to have a weapon close by and that the unicorns were to prepare to establish defenses. Then he met with his comms officers. He asked first that they repeat his message over the loudspeaker to ensure that the whole camp was ready to go at a moment's notice. Then he had them spread out amongst the other troops. It wasn’t an efficient position from a purely communication standpoint, but it increased the chances that any ponies who got separated from the main group would have someone with communication expertise nearby.
That accomplished, he returned to his tent to check over his own weapons and armor, strapping on the latter. He ran through his checklist for the morning, and, satisfied, settled down to read the scouts’ write-ups. After that, it was just back to waiting, and wondering whether the inevitable would choose to happen today.
That’s all war was. Waiting and waiting. Doing busywork and being happy that that’s all you had to do. Trying to ignore the weight of everything riding on your success so that you could delay insanity for one more day. For Mac anyway. The day drew on slowly, the pressure still building outside- faster now that everyone was on high alert. Hooves itched at triggers, ponies talked together in small groups, burying their growing fear with bravado and fantasies of slaughter. Mac had to trust that his staff sergeants would keep any group from getting too riled up.
For his own part, Mac had trouble focusing on his work. His thoughts kept drifting to his farm and to Ponyville, to all of the friends he didn’t know if he’d see again. He’d already lost a few. His daydreams would be broken by an imagined gunshot or the hum of changeling wings. Mac would jump, then pull himself together and try to relax again. He couldn’t stop his warring mind wading through old memories though. The watch pony had just called out noon when a shout broke his revery. For a moment, Mac thought he’d imagined it, then he heard the call from one of the watch ponies.
“Major! Eyes to the sky!” Mac rushed out of his tent and turned his face upwards to see the clouds that had plagued the camp all morning begin to break. Only thin shafts of light broke through. Mac squinted, his tired eyes unable to make out what his attention had been called to, even as his stomach knotted at the only possibility. The remaining clouds were dark, their presence ominous, but that alone wouldn’t warrant such alarm. That was the buzzing, the sharp hum of dragonfly wings at a distance. There were no clouds; the sun was blotted out by Changelings. Alarms went off only seconds after the sound became audible and ponies hoisted weapons onto their shoulders. Shots rang out everywhere and changelings started falling, some cloaked in the green flare they often used to boost their first attack. Mac had his soldiers trained well. The fire was thick, but troops were making sure to get to areas they could defend. Unicorns called up walls of earth in domes to form bunkers. Big Mac leapt into the nearest and fell to three legs so the other ponies could arm him.
Weapons had always been a hassle. It had been one of the ponies’ biggest problems at the beginning of the war. The hoof-blades favored by pegasi were easy for a single pony to equip, and unicorns could levitate just about anything into the right position. The earth ponies suffered though. All rifles were made to strap onto a pony’s shoulder for support, but straps weren’t easy to maneuver when ponies could only grip things with their mouths. Unicorns could use magic to clip everything together, but earth ponies had no such abilities. The strength that was their defining feature let them use heavier armaments, but the dextrous actions needed to clip rifles into place were nearly impossible for a single pony. When Twilight heard of this problem, she personally re-designed the holsters for easy use, but even those took at least a second pony to equip.
Still Big Mac thought as the rifle clicked into place on his shoulder at least we get the good stuff. He swung the massive barrels of the EPAR III over to a crenelation and leaned into the trigger. He was braced for the recoil and the first leap of the firing gun still shook him. The barrells took turns blasting rounds, one allowing the other to recover from the kickback. His aim was true and changelings were dropping. He paid special attention to the other bunkers, picking off any enemies that had started trying to breach the stone walls. He knew that his troops were doing the same for him.
Mac observed as the drills he’d run a hundred times were put into play. Ponies who hadn’t immediately made it to shelter drew together and moved to the nearest bunker while any pony in an adjacent turret laid down suppressing fire to keep the changelings well away. Within the first few minutes, no pony was outside of a bunker.
Once within, arms and duties were distributed as necessary to keep the fire coming out of each bunker as thick as possible. Bunkers with extra troops would switch out the ponies at the turrets regularly to keep any from exhausting.
As soon as the bunkers were organized, the real work began. Changelings, while inherently weak magic users, could cause trouble if they worked in groups, so the ponies focused down any clusters of the monsters first. Any changelings who stayed still too long were sure to be picked off by one of Mac’s well-trained sharpshooters, regardless of how high they were above the chaos. Heavier armaments were used to punch holes through any formations the changelings tried to assemble. It required an eye for changeling strategy, but Mac had seen to it personally that every heavy-weapons pony had that eye. Mac’s ponies were doing their job. The changelings seemed unable to break their defenses.
The question of how the other companies were faring pushed itself into Mac’s mind, but he pushed it right back out. He couldn’t worry about another 700 ponies right now. The current battle demanded his attention, and he gave it all he could. Minutes and seconds blurred together as Mac fired. He measured moments by changelings he dropped from the sky.
Six times the changelings tried to organize themselves, charging spells or coming into formation for suicide strikes. Each time Mac’s company concentrated fire on those groups, tearing them apart twice as quickly as they’d come together. After that, most of the changelings took to evasive maneuvers, trying to make Mac’s soldiers waste ammo. They could’ve been standing still for all his troops seemed to care.
He was so focused on the killing that he didn’t notice that the Changelings had gone until he ran out of targets. The sky was empty and clear, sunlight shone down. It wasn’t right.
“Keep the walls up,” he ordered his bunker’s unicorn as he turned around and unclipped his rifle. The white stallion nodded in reply, letting the magic he’d prepared to take the bunker down fade away. Mac surveyed those in the installation with him. The unicorn, Black Marble; three earth ponies; Roma, Serena, and Short Round; and Mac’s personal comm officer, Wisp. Just who Mac was hoping for.
“Radio out,” Mac ordered, “Everypony stays in.” Wisp nodded and started speaking into his radio. Over half of what he said was gibberish to Mac. Codewords had to change often with Changelings around.
Even more now, with what happened to Omega, came a voice from the back of Big Mac’s mind. He pushed the thought away, forcing himself to focus on the now. Changelings never gave up that quickly, they were planning something. He looked out of the windows. All of the bunkers were still standing.
“You really think there’s more out there, sir?” Serena asked.
“Eeyup.” Her face hardened and she returned to her own window, clipping her gun back on. Big Mac waited. From what he could see, not a single bunker had been broken. The ground was soaked with green ichor, but no red pony blood showed against it. And the number of Changeling bodies was too few, even with all they’d killed. There should have been hundreds littering the ground. Changelings would sacrifice half a regiment before they pulled out of a conflict.
“Major, over here!” Short Round called. Mac galloped over to the smaller pony’s turret and looked out. Tiny lambent orbs, each the same color as Changeling ichor floated through the air towards the bunkers.
“This why the Changeling’s left?” Roma asked not leaving her place by the window. Mac shrugged.
“The things are no bigger than parasprites!” Serana shouted. “What would Changelings have to be afraid of?”
“I don’t think they were afraid,” Short Round said, his voice hushed. No sooner had the words left his lips than the screaming started. Big Mac searched for the source. It was a bunker about fifty yards away. The orbs had gotten into it. The walls of the bunker dropped and Mac was given full view of what happened inside. As soon as the orbs made contact, they simply popped, green slime flying everywhere. And everything it touched burned.
“Close up!” Big Mac screamed.
“On it!” Black Marble replied, and the turrets to the bunker started slamming shut. Mac had just enough time to watch the ponies in the downed bunker picked off by black flashes of chiton, huge changelings with larger wings than he’d ever seen and more claws than he remembered. Then the last turret closed with a roar, shutting out the last of the light and smashing an orb as it did so. Acid streaked out and landed on Big Mac’s face. The pain was intense, but he ignored it.
Panic and fury threatened to overwhelm him. The changelings had planned this. They’d wanted the ponies to bunker up, to cluster so that those orbs would be at their most effective.
Stupid he berated himself, Thinkin’ that the enemies wouldn’t have some way to deal with our defenses. Mac stopped himself, stamped a hoof on the ground and brought himself under control. Then he whipped around to face Wisp and started barking orders. He couldn’t afford to let a slip up take his focus now, not when there was still a way to recover.
“Radio out! All bunkers with unoccupied unicorns need a forcefield out. Try to push them critters outta the bunkers before ya seal it. Then dive! Initiate plan varmint!” Wisp did as he was told, relaying orders to every bunker he could reach.
“Varmint, sir?” Black Marble asked seriously. Mac grunted his assent and was suddenly overcome with a sensation of falling as the bunker plunged into the ground. Mac hated this part. The bunker, now a single capsule of earth containing the five ponies, was pitch black; Marble’s horn didn’t give off enough light to allow any sort of vision. And once Wisp had finished relaying the orders, the capsule took on an oppressive silence. Mac found some solace in no longer hearing the screams that had echoed from the troops still up there.
It was unnerving. In a world where ambush was a constant fear, losing the biggest senses a pony had was almost unbearable. Mac ground his teeth and tried to push past the anxiety that hung in the still air. The drills had never felt this claustrophobic, and Mac suddenly understood how a rabbit must feel when a wolf was at its den.
The darkness itself seemed to press in on him, making his head spin and his heart lurch. Mac was suddenly thankful for the unpleasant sensation of his stomach climbing into his throat that demanded so much of his attention. It made it the darkness and the silence a little easier to ignore. Small favors. Even so, he found it difficult not to speak.
“Report,” he ordered, trying to break the unbearable silence.
“No positives, sir,” Wisp replied. “We’re too deep to receive transmissions. I’m pretty sure they got the order, but there’s no way for them to confirm.”
“Marble?” Mac asked.
“We’re almost at max depth, sir,” the unicorn replied. “I’ll take a moment to redirect myself and then we’ll start on up again.” Mac grunted his assent, only half hearing as he tried to settle his stomach and take control of his emotions. His mind drifted to the fate of Omega, but he pushed hard against those thoughts. Emerald Company wasn’t dead yet, even if it was buried.
He ran through plan varmint in his head to keep his mind occupied. It was something he’d started drilling his troops on recently- too recently for him to be totally comfortable initiating it, but he didn’t see that he had a lot of other choices.
Every unicorn, upon joining the military, was taught to apply their magic- whatever their special talent was- to moving earth for trenches, despite their utter uselessness against changelings. Other commanders had viewed it as busywork, but Mac had seen more potential. He’d worked with the most capable unicorns in his company to develop spells for shaping earth into more beneficial installments, like bunkers and cover for supply caches. The culmination of these techniques was plan varmint, enclosed capsules of earth designed for subterranean warfare. All three princesses had lent their knowledge to its development.
The magic was nuanced though, and incredibly difficult for ponies who’d never had to apply their talent to moving earth before. Most of them had gotten the hang of submerging the capsules, but many still found lateral movement beneath the surface impossible. Luckily for Mac, Black Marble had been a mining foreman before he’d joined up, so he had an easier time than most- though even he still found subterranean movement difficult. Still, the changelings had never been much for digging. The ponies didn’t have to get too far down before they were unreachable, which gave them the time they needed to maneuver.
That’s the position they were in now. They had a chance to pull together some other defense while they were below ground, but returning to the surface too quickly would be the death of them. Mac felt trapped, as trapped as he could be, knowing that, every second they stayed below ground, the changelings would be moving, preparing for their return. For all Mac knew, the entire horde had started its march. Again the walls seemed to close in, Mac heard the hoarse, crackling laughter of changelings echoing in the silence, and he had to fight down the urge to scream. Instead he tapped his head gently against the wall to ground himself and turned his attention to the ponies with him. They weren’t trapped if they could put together a counter offensive. They had the space they needed to organize again. Even if the changelings knew about the plan to dive, there was no way for them to get below the surface.
Unless that’s what those big ones are for, spoke that relentless voice in the back of Mac’s mind. He stomped the voice out and pulled himself together, a rock hard resolve forming in his core.
“Starting the climb,” Black Marble announced, bringing Mac back to the situation.
“Hold up,” Big Mac commanded.
“Sir?” This from Roma.
“Won’t be no different if we come back up now. ‘Cept that we won’t all come back up at the same time. They’d pick us off like mice under a hawk’s nest. We need to make contact with the others.” There was a moment of silence, then Mac spoke again, “I’m open fer suggestions as to how.”
“You’re in charge, sir. Thinking’s your job,” Roma chided, her voice carrying just enough levity to let Mac know the joke. He was thankful for it. He needed something light to keep him anchored.
“That ain’t how I trained ya,” he returned, “Now think, we all dig down the same distance. We drilled that well enough. We know they’re down here somewhere, just gotta get to ‘em.”
“I think I remember the position of Roxie’s bunker, sir,” Serena piped up, “They were positioned just twenty or so meters east of us. If we can get some light in here, I’ve got a compass we can use to set our heading. If we can get to her, she might be able to direct us to the other groups- never known a pony with a memory like hers.”
“You expect she can help us round up the rest of the company?” Big Mac asked, skeptical.
“No, sir, but, if we can get enough ponies together, we may have enough of either magic or comm supplies to get a signal to the others.”
“That’s the kinda thinkin’ I trained ya for,” Mac said, not bothering to hide the pride in his voice.
“We just need light, sir.”
“On it,” Black Marble’s voice came from the darkness. There was another moment of silence as Marble concentrated, then a rock blinked to light in the walls, then another. Slowly, the self-contained cave lit up with the incandescent glow of the spelled stones. The ponies worked quickly, setting their course east and checking to make sure they were level before they started moving. The lights blinked out as soon as they were ready, Black Marble unable to sustain both spells at once. Mac had adjusted enough to the silence to recognize the hollow hum of grinding earth that indicated their movement. He closed his eyes, hoping it would seem like he was back on the train leaving Ponyville. Closing his eyes didn’t change much though. The train had never been this cold, nor had the reek of fear-sweat been quite so present. He steeled himself for the feelings of despair that he assumed would come with such thought and he was able to ward them off this time, though his insides still ran cold with worry.
Mac could hear Black Marble struggling to move the earth that contained them, grunting with the effort as he strained to keep the spell up. Mac knew he wouldn’t be able to go long without rest, and rest was something they couldn’t afford right now. Among a few other issues, there was no way to add more air to the capsules. They were working on the clock, and if the unicorns were too exhausted to bring them back to the surface when the air ran out, they’d have literally dug their own graves.
Minutes passed in silence. No contact with the other ponies. It was impossible to tell how fast they were moving. No one knew whether they should have hit the other group yet or not. If they didn’t find Roxie, they’d need a new plan to gather the other ponies. That would take time, and time was of the essence. Mac’s thoughts threatened to run wild, but he forced himself to remain stoic. Every pony around him had to be feeling that same worry, and, as the commanding officer, they were looking to him for their cue on how to respond. Giving voice to that fear would tear down whatever morale the ponies had left, and the situation would turn hopeless. The whole plan relied on each of them staying strong, especially him.
“We should be there soon,” Mac heard Serena whisper. It was more to herself than to any of the other ponies, but the quarters were too close for them not to hear. He placed a reassuring hoof on her shoulder.
“Eeyup.”
He put on his bravest face, making sure his voice was steady and warm. Panic and despair would only exhaust the oxygen faster and give the changelings more time to set up.
Mac was just about to call a halt when dust rained down from the ceiling. Something fell from the darkness above. Curses lit up the air as ponies scrambled to figure out what had happened. Kicks were thrown as ponies tried to clear the space around them. Mac took a hoof to the face before he could master himself enough to end the situation. He took in a breath and shouted a single word over the clamor.
“Rolecall!”
Silence, then-
“Major? Is that you?” Mac recognized the pony’s voice.
“Eeyup,” he replied matter of factly.
“Thank Celestia,” she sighed, “Finally, someone with authority. Lieutenant Roxie, reporting.” After another moment, the rest of the ponies followed suit, starting with Mac’s own group.
Petunia, a purple earth pony and Silver Spanner, the second group’s unicorn, were the other new additions from Roxie’s bunker. Once role finished, Roxie spoke up again,
“So, you got a plan, Major?”
“Round up the others. Need t’gather everypony,” he thought for a moment, then added, “Gonna want ‘em when we go back up to finish those critters off.” This seemed to have the desired effect. The tension in the joined capsules lessened slightly.
“Do you remember the positions of any other bunkers, Roxie?” Serena broke in.
“You bet,” Roxie replied quickly, “just let me think a minute.”
The next half an hour was spent moving from post to post, gathering new ponies as they could. Roxie led them to three different bunkers, and most of the capsules had at least one pony who could remember the position of at least one more. Mac took role every time, taking stock of his troops and trying to think of how best he could position them on the field. Movement got a little easier. Some capsules had extra unicorns that could help shift the earth around. As they added ponies though, Mac began to realize how many were wounded, and just how much was riding on him and his planning. The orbs had done their job, leaving ponies with holes and scars that would make it hard to fight. Some had lost the bottom of their hooves, other had lost eyes, one mare had jumped onto an orb to keep it from popping on her companions. Her chest had been completely opened. It was an ugly way to go. Mac tried to organize supplies for the wounded while he considered possible strategies, but, with all of the unicorns focused on moving the ever-growing space, they were forced to work in the dark.
Even worse, morale in the other capsules was low. He found many of his troops huddled together and crying, broken by the carnage above and the brutal darkness they'd escaped to. Some ponies had taken charge once below ground, keeping morale up as they could, singing or joking to ward off the terror that threatened to engulf them. Most of the ponies' conditions improved once Mac's group showed up, but a lot of damage had clearly already been done. They needed something to steel them for their return to the fight. Mac pondered that as they moved.
Finally, he called a hold. Forty-five ponies stood in the subterranean clearing they’d made- about half of Big Mac’s company. He didn't hold out hope that there were many more still below. He doubted that all of the bunkers had had a chance to dive, and he suspected that several had returned to the surface too early. Even so, Mac knew that he needed every pony he could get.
“Unicorns,” he called into the darkness.
“Sir,” came the unison response.
“Comms,” he called into the darkness.
“Sir,” again in unison.
“Work together. Signal out to meet at our coordinates. Don’t care how you do it.”
“Changelings could pick up on magical frequencies, sir,” came a voice from the darkness- Mac thought it might have been Lyra, one of the ponies from his old hometown.
“Don’t matter. If they can reach us, let ‘em. The rest of us’ll be preparin’. One unicorn will need to give us some light.”
“On it,” came Black Marble’s signature reply.
“Nope. You’re on rest. You been diggin’ longer than anypony else. Won’t have you collapsin’ as soon as we hit the surface.”
“Light’s no issue, major. I knew that magic before all of this started. Nothing worse than running out of light in the mines.”
Mac did not give voice to the thought that running out of air was probably worse. Instead, he allowed Marble to, once again, set the stones to glowing.
Ponies were moving as soon as there was light again. Comms and unicorns got together to start working on a signal while the others started distributing weapons and tending to the wounded more effectively. Mac himself called on a couple of ponies to remount his rifle. He returned the favor before stepping into an unclaimed pair of hoofblades. The metal showed rivulette scars, suggesting that one of the acid orbs was the cause of the weapons’ abandonment. He blew a huff of air out through his nose. He’d make sure to get some ichor on ‘em make up for it.
Mac met with his lieutenants while the other ponies worked, putting together a plan of attack for when they reached the surface. Once their strategy was drawn together, he sent the lieutenants back out to relay the plan to their platoons. Then Mac started around the cave. His face serious, but showing no signs of fear. He knew that his troops were watching him, looking to see if it was time to panic. He made sure that it wasn’t.
A unicorn’s voice rose above the clamor of the other ponies.
“Signal’s out, sir!”
“Good!” Mac called back. The troops turned towards him expectantly.
“What’re ya’ll lookin’ at me for?” Mac asked after a brief pause. He was met with sheepish stares. Then one spoke up.
“Got any words for us, major?” Mac sighed. Speeches were never his thing.
“Don’t know what you expect me to say. Up there’re some critters that killed yer friends. Killed yer comrades. Wanna kill you too. Only thing for it is to kill ‘em first. No illusions, here. We will die. If not today, tomorrow. If not tomorrow, fifty years from now after we’ve told our grand-colts ‘bout how we didn’t die today. Either way, as I see it, we’re dying in the best company. Give those bitches the same opportunity.”
There was a contained woop from one of ponies in the crowd followed by a heavy silence as they waited for the rest of the company to arrive. After the first minute, someone- Lyra by the silver timbre of the voice- started up a song, a ballad from the last war the ponies had fought, hundreds of years ago.
I leave the walls of old Canterlot,
My true love, and my home,
And I go to see the greening fields,
Across the emerald foam, my dear
Across the emerald foam,
The ponies who knew the words joined in, while those who knew the tune hummed.
When I arrived I saw the fields blazing,
The green was riddled with pockets of flame,
And every warrior’s blood that day,
Alit the very same, my dear,
Alit the very same,
The cave they’d created reverberated strikingly, jumbling the voices into a mass of sound that seemed to grow exponentially, taking on a life of its own. Mac would have missed the arrival of the new ponies, had they not immediately joined in the song.
The greening fields have turned to ash,
The emerald sea is red,
And all of those who came with me,
Alas they now are dead, my dear,
Alas they now are dead,
Yet I’ve my helm and shield beside me,
My sword and my armor both girded on,
And you know I’ll take them all down with me,
All through the warrior’s song, my dear,
All through the warrior’s song,
Mac joined in on the last verse, its lyrics sung often by aging earth ponies.
So leave now the walls of Canterlot city,
The green of the fields has come to stay
And I’ve made the gardens here for you pretty,
Across the emerald waves, my dear,
Across the emerald waves,
Yes flowers bloom along my grave,
Bloom for you along my grave,
Across the emerald waves,
The last note of the song hung suspended in the air for a moment. Then Mac gave the call.
“Ponies, formation. Unicorns, bring us up.”