“Two ‘o clock of the morning watch, all’s well,” said the guard to Plumline. She nodded to her fellow guardpony and took his place at the wall.
“You’re relieved, Sergeant.” The Sergeant nodded gratefully, and trotted briskly off along the wall. Plumline took a deep breath of the fresh morning air, looking out over the plains surrounding the fort.
The fortress of Sel-Paloth was quiet this morning, as it usually was. Most of the two hundred ponies stationed here were still asleep at this hour, and Plumline enjoyed the solitude. It gave her time to think about her husband, back up north in Whitewall. She was still assigned here for another two months, but she couldn’t wait to see him again once her tour was up. They would walk together by the Pale Lake, and watch the sun set over the mountains as the birds sang in the trees of Whitetail, like they had as foals.
If she listened closely enough, she fancied she could hear the wind rustling over the scrubland in the early morning dark. It was a soothing sound, a faint whisper that spoke to the stark, plain beauty of Southlund. She looked south over the expanse of dirt and sand. It was still too dark to make out the great dunes of the Saladi in the distance, but Plumline could feel their presence. Everypony in Sel-Paloth knew that it was only a matter of time before the griffons came out of that desert, but they had been stationed here for months without any reinforcements from the north. Captain Dartmouth had been requesting more troops for a long time, but Canterlot had sent none.
Plumline shuffled to keep the blood flowing through her legs. If you didn’t stay moving, you could get incredibly stiff on the wall. The fortress was drafty and uncomfortable, and an extremely unpleasant place to sleep; but it was impregnable, a bastion of defense that no siege had ever broken. Even with so few ponies, Plumline was confident they could repel any of the small griffon raiding parties that occasionally dared to venture north. Groups of twenty or thirty of them frequently stole north into the southlands to carry off food, supplies, and the occasional unlucky prisoner, but ever since Duchess Belle had re-garrisoned the fortress, the raids had been stymied by the soldiers under Captain Dartmouth. Plumline herself was going on patrol the next day, an exciting reprieve from walking the walls at night.
The hours ticked by. Plumline yawned and blinked, trying to stay alert. Boring guard duty was the best kind of guard duty, she reminded herself. She shook her head to clear it, accidentally loosening her helmet. It tumbled off her head, clanging onto the stone of the wall’s edge and over into the air. Plumline leaned out over the edge of the wall, desperately trying to catch it, but the helmet was gone. She sighed in frustration. Dartmouth was going to give her an earful for this one. Maybe she could sneak down and retrieve the helmet after her watch, and get the chinstrap replaced by the quartermaster before the Captain found out...
Something caught her eye. On the wall, moving up along the side like some kind of spider, was a great black shape. She leaned further out, trying to get a good look at it. “What the…”
A sharp whistling caught her ear. “Huh?” A glint of metal came shooting from below, narrowly missing Plumline’s head. It shot over the wall, and with a clang the metal thing became a three-pronged hook. It latched onto the wall, anchoring itself. Plumline stepped back in surprise, then horror, as she realized what it was. A grappling hook.
She looked over the wall again, and now she realized that the walls were swarming with black shapes. Plumline pulled back and yelled at the top of her lungs.
"We're under attack!"
Beneath her, the black things abandoned stealth, leaping off the wall and spreading their great feathered wings. The griffon assassins swooped up and over the lip of the wall, catching the watchponies off-guard. The griffons wore battleclaws, sharpened blades made to fit over their natural talons; they were wickedly sharp, capable of slicing an unarmored pony in half, and the griffons were swift and efficient. The sounds of metal clashing rang out around the wall. What few guards remained on the wall were quickly being overwhelmed.
Plumline turned and raced for the alarm, one of four great bells that stood on the corners of the fortress, ready to wake the full contingent of the fortress in case of an emergency. Ahead of her, Plumline saw griffons vaulting the wall, slaughtering the guards and gliding down into the fortress.
She raced past another guard, who yelled “Go, Plum! Sound the alarm! We’ll hold them off!” He was locked in combat with a griffon, dressed in a dark blue cloak the same shade as the night sky. He smashed his hooves into the griffon, sending it flying backwards off the wall. It turned midair and flapped its wings, coming back at the guard and slashing at him with its claws. Plumline kept running, trying not to hear the squelch of metal on flesh. She reached the great bell, grabbed the pull rope in her mouth, and rang it as hard as she could.
DONG…. DONG… DONG…
Beneath the walls, inside the fortress, the guards woke to find themselves already under attack. The griffon commando force had slipped into the buildings, killing as many guards in their sleep as they could. The ponies retaliated, but caught without their armor or weapons there was little they could do. Pegasi clashed in the air with griffons, smashing into each other like aerial battering rams. Unicorn battlemages flung spells at their foes, lighting the dark with fireballs and lightning. The entire fortress exploded with light and fire, the chaos of battle quickly shrouding everything inside.
DONG… DONG…
Plumline pulled the bell frantically with all her strength. Behind her, she could hear more griffons landing with metallic clanks on the wall.
DONG…
She felt him before she saw him. A griffon grabbed her with his claw, taking hold of her armor. The earth pony bent her head and bucked her hind legs, sending him flying. She whirled around, galloping toward the griffon with the intent to trample it. The griffon rolled away, taking off in flight. Still distracted by Plumline’s charge, he failed to see a pegasus streaking toward him. The pegasus smashed the griffon down into the wall with a sickening crunch, and Plumline raised her hoof-mace and brought it down onto the creature’s head.
The pegasus landed in front of her. “The fortress is lost. We can’t fight them off, there are too many.”
“Where’s Captain Dartmouth?”
“Down in the courtyard. Get down there and help him out. I’ll cover you from the air.”
Plumline raced down the stairs, hearing the sounds of battle all around; the clash of metal, the screams of dying ponies and griffons, and the occasional snap-hiss of a spell firing through the air. She reached the courtyard to find a scene of utter chaos. Bodies were everywhere, both pony and griffon, and the cobblestones were slicked with blood.
The ponies had formed a line against the griffons, the earth ponies providing the unicorns with a wall of shields mounted on their sides while the unicorns worked their magic. The griffons swarmed around them, diving like eagles on the hunt, slashing with their blades and beaks.
She ran straight for the center of the line. The shield wall opened, and Plumline found herself inside the ponies’ ranks. “Dartmouth! Captain Dartmouth!”
“Here, Sergeant!” She found him in the thick of it, yelling orders to the unicorns. “On the left! Don’t let them get through! Hold the line, ponies!”
Plumline skidded to a halt before him. “Sir, they’re everywhere. The wall is lost. What are your orders?”
The captain looked grim. “We can’t hold off a force this size. Perhaps if they hadn’t caught us by surprise-” A griffon streaked down toward them, claws extended. One of the unicorns caught it with a spell, sending the griffon crashing into the ground. “Our top priority now is to get the news to the Princess. She and the Duchess need to know what’s happened.” They both ducked as one of the mages missed with a fireball spell, blasting a chunk of the wall apart and raining mortar down on the ponies’ heads. “Plumline, you’re my fastest runner. We’ll keep the griffons busy as long as we can. You have to get to Whitewall and tell them what’s happened.”
“Not a chance, sir. I’m not leaving.”
“Plumline, don’t be an idiot. We can’t use you here anyway. Warn Whitewall! Get that message out! Go!”
Another griffon swooped down into the middle of the line, breaking through the barrage of spellfire. It clashed with Dartmouth, slashing at him. The two grappled, as Plumline rushed to help. Dartmouth rolled over, trying to keep the griffon’s claws away from his eyes. He looked over at Plumline and shouted “GO!”
She turned and ran, as fast as she could. She ran through the portcullis, through the gate, and out onto the north road. She ran and ran and ran. The sounds of battle faded behind her, but she could still hear the screaming in her head.
Plumline didn’t stop to look back until she was far away. The fortress was a small dot on the horizon. The sun was rising to the east, revealing a tower of smoke from the direction of Sel-Paloth. Plumline, her face streaked with tears, whispered “Goodbye...”
Whitewall City was a two day journey on hoof. She had no food or water, but it didn’t matter. The news must be delivered. The Princess had to be told. She couldn’t let them down.
* * *
The fighting lasted for hours. The ponies managed to fend off the griffons again and again, holding the line against them throughout the morning. But by noon, the unicorns were rapidly becoming exhausted. The pegasi numbers fell as more griffons took the skies, forcing them back to the ground. The griffons corralled the ponies into the center of the courtyard, where they were surrounded on all sides.
Captain Dartmouth maintained the shield line, a circle of impassable wood and metal. But the griffons had gained control of the gatehouse. The great fortress doors rolled open, and the griffons’ ground troops poured inside. The infantry were heavily armored, grasping great spears and sharpened blades in their claws. Many had bucklers attached to their forearms, further shielding them from attack. Though too weighted down to fly, the infantry-griffons were even more deadly than their aerial counterparts. They crashed onto the phalanx of ponies like a wave, breaking on their shields and spears.
The weary ponies soon began to falter. The griffons broke the line, cutting through to the unicorns and slaughtering many of the defenders. The end came when Dartmouth himself was slain by an armored griffon, caught from behind while trying to shield a unicorn. When he fell, the ponies knew the battle was over. They let their weapons fall, dropping to their knees in surrender.
The leader of the invading force sat atop the wall, gazing over the remaining ponies. He was a huge griffon, nearly three meters tall even when he stood only on four legs. His wings spanned an impressive ten feet, and his beak and claws were razor-sharp. His eyes were cold and calculating, analyzing the fortress and the result of the battle.
His chief subordinate landed lightly by his side, perching on the crenellations. “General Shrikefeather. The fortress is ours.”
The general smiled, his beak twisting. He reached his claws up and removed his helmet. “Excellent work, Colonel. How badly was the fortress damaged?”
“We captured it largely intact. The gatehouse is fully functional, but the unicorns did some damage to the inner walls.”
The general waved this news away. “Cosmetics don’t concern me. As long as the walls are stable. What were our losses?” He brushed a stray feather out of his eyes.
“We haven’t run a full count, yet, but estimates are around forty to fifty, primarily fliers. One of the guards ruined our sneak attack by raising the alarm. Captain Withers was not pleased. I gather it’s a point of pride for him that his commandos have not failed an infiltration in a decade.”
“Withers’ ego is not a casualty that concerns me.”
“Besides the dead, we have perhaps seventy incapacitated, and another hundred or so with minor injuries.”
“Still well within acceptable limits. Very well, Colonel. Send a messenger to inform the main force that the way into Equestria is open. We’ll begin moving our army north immediately.”
“Yes, General.” The colonel paused. “What should we do with the prisoners?”
Shrikefeather snorted. “What do you think?”
The colonel tilted his head. “Execute them?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” snapped the general, giving him an annoyed look. “Horses are far too useful to waste. Send them to the taskmaster to be broken, and then put them to work. We’ll need all the laborers we can to shift the siege materiel up from Grypha.”
He stretched his wings. “This is the first of many victories to come. The Equestrians are weaker than we thought. Rejoice, Colonel, for today is the dawning of a new age. An age of wings and steel. The age of the griffon.” His eyes blazed.
As his subordinate flew off to carry out his orders, the general replaced his helmet. The campaign had begun. The invasion was under way.