Book 9: Temptation III
Blind loyalty can betray just as easy as a knife to the back.
Temptation of the Sky
Days pass and nothing is heard from the fast response weather-born. The council becomes agitated and fearful. Could a new enemy have presented itself? Could the rumor of plague be worse than they thought? Tensions mount, nerves fray, arguments erupt. The situation is swiftly defused when one of the fast response teams members arrives at the chambers, apologizing for his tardiness. Assuaging the fears of those there he explains that everything is in hoof. The doctors are fine and are tending to a village. The rest of his team are aiding where they can. The outbreak while bad in some villages, was attributed to a batch of grain, which has been dealt with. The fields it was reaped from have been purged with magic and fire. Removing all traces of the contagion.
He requests that supplies be sent to aid the rebuilding. Much food was lost to contain the plague and ensure its complete eradication. Having sworn to never forsake their own villages, the council agreed to this and began assembling a caravan of magic-born and earth-born to venture to the settlements with help. The magic-born would aid in healing and the earth-born in reclaiming the land. The leaders also used this as an opportunity for them to send further settlers to the area, and thus they did. Excusing himself so he can leave and return to report this to the group. After one additional mission that is.
When away from prying eyes, the messenger drops his disguise, reverting to the insectoid form blessed to him by the master. Moving to the next objective, he assumes the form of a kindly magic-born mare, one whom the queen's foal would trust. Arriving at the abode of the queen, he enters and reports a message received from the mother, for the daughter. Her mother has summoned her to the village, she will be living there for a time, helping to rebuild and would like her daughter there by her side. Excited the filly agreed and was thus handed a paper allowing her to be among the members of the caravan. His duty complete, he exits the building and once again resumes the guise of the weather-born. Taking off, he returns to the den to inform the queen and the master of the events.
A week later, the caravan is ready to embark for the villages. In the group was a score of magic-born, a few doctors, but many were artisans looking for a new start. The bulk of the group was almost two score earth-born, eager to settle new land and raise their crops. All were adults except for the single youngling magic-born eager to join her mother at their destination. Completing the group was a small contingent of weather-born soldiers, specifically requested to go by the weather-born member of the council. She refused to commit resources and send tribesman without protection. Assembled, they departed for the frontier area and the villages there. On the first night after departure a single member of the magic-born contingent separated herself from the sleeping masses and walked to the edge of the camp. Shrouding herself in magic so as not to be noticed by the vigilant weather-born guards she contacted her queen through the link they shared. Together they planed a welcoming party for the group.
The days passed by with out event. The weather-born guards became lax and fell into the rhythm of the rest of the caravan. Eventually they closed in on the village and the trap was sprung. The ground erupted and canid beings burst forth snatching up all of the earth-born and magic-born. They were dragged back underground along with all of the gems and other precious metals to be found in the caravan. The weather-born could do little to aid the rest as the strike was both sudden and well coordinated. In mere seconds the attack was over and the caravan left in ruins. To the well trained weather-born is was almost if the attackers had known where everypony and everything would be. Fearful of the village, they went forth to find it deserted as well, with the telltale mounds showing the subterranean caninids had struck there as well. Wasting no more time they rushed to the capitol to rally the forces and stop these raiders. In the den, the chaos-born drop their disguises and laugh.
Deep underground the frightened ponies were thrown into cages, made of magic resistant metals, keeping the magic-born from making their escape. Days passed and they were left alone, without food or water. Their wills flagged and unrest grew. The magic-born were able to use their gift to slow the dehydration, but the earth-born had no such ability. They had to rely on their own hardened constitution to survive. On the fourth day a great commotion came from outside the cells and the doors thrown open. They had been saved at last. Delirious from the ordeal they gladly accepted the water offered to them by their saviors. The effects were immediate and more chaos-born joined their ranks. On the other side of the tunnels, a lone filly, treated well by the captors, is reunited with her mother. The queen's horn glows the same green color as before and slowly the emerald cocoon encases her daughter. The corruption fed to her during the imprisonment taking hold. Here she would sleep. Here she would remain until the time was right. Here she would under go her chrysalis and when she emerges, she will be queen.
Back at the capitol a war council is called to deal with the problem. There had been minor skirmishes in the past with these mostly nomadic canines, mostly dealing with mineral rights when they were expanding into the gem rich areas. All had been settled without bloodshed. But this obvious act of aggression could not stand. They agreed to dispatch their main army, what was still enlisted from the Wyrm conflict, to the regular territory of the canids to deal with the problem and secure their border.
Mean while, two of the weather-born wings would be dispatched the village to deal with the raiders. The first would be the fast attack wing, a skilled group of swift fliers that struck like lightning, leaving awe in their wake. Their banners and armors marked with cyan and gold, showing the head of a raptor emblazoned over a thunderbolt. The second wing was the heavy aerial attack group, skilled at air to ground combat. They were known to pounce on their quarry and render it to shreds like one of the large cats of the southern plains. As if to force home the point, their emblem was the paw of a great cat, flanked on either side by a wing. Neither group got along well with each other. There had been a rivalry between the two groups for centuries, each degrading the attack patterns of the other. To the fast attack wing, the techniques of the other were sloppy and unrefined. To the heavy aerial wing, the other was dancing, not fighting. Regardless, they were the best of the best and would do their duty, Besides, this gave each an opportunity to show up the other.
The forces assembled themselves before the gates of the capitol, arrayed in tight uniform rows. Each group distributed into their platoons. With a speech from the assembled council and a salute, the forces embarked for their respective destinations. The slower moving main army, composed mostly of earth-born and magic-born marched out by hoof, with their weather-born cavalry flying closely overhead. The fast attack wing took off in a blur, leaving streaks of cyan and gold trailing in their wake. The heavy attack wing smirked, laughing among themselves that those hot shots would just end up tiring themselves out rushing there and be worthless. It would be their time to shine. Taking off, they set steady pace that would get them there in good time, but also well rested. Mean while in the air, the fast attack joked as well, that the slowpokes would miss all the fun. Back at the dens, the chaos-born prepared to welcome their new company.
The chaos-born began to redirect the flow of the waters around the village to dry the land and cause drought conditions. They simulated further canide aggression by placing the decayed corpses of their first feast in the village and more of the telltale mounds throughout the area. They used their magic to enhance the sun of the area to further increase the drought. With the area setup, the chaos-born waited for their guests. They did not have to wait long.
The fast attack wing, true to their name arrived no more than two days after they departed the capitol. They were horrified to find their brethren slain and began burial details. They assembled dry tinder, which there was plenty of, and committed the bodies back to the all-seeing and back to the sky. Few words were spoken, but the anger was evident in all of their faces. The commander, an experienced leader dispatched one of the newest members of her team to connect with the heavy attack wing and inform them of what they had found. Eager to please and extremely loyal to the commander the soldier readily accepted and was off in a flash. The rest of the wing spread out to look for recent signs of activity and to try and track the fiends to their lair.
The heavy attack wing was more than halfway to the rendezvous point when the private from the fast attack wing arrived and breathlessly imparted what they had found. Incensed by the news, they increased their speed as much as possible. They were endurance fliers, not speedsters and their heavier armor and weapons had to also be taken into account. In due time they arrived to find the fast attack wing had setup base camp inside the deserted town with regular scouting flights every hour. Satisfied, the commander of the heavy attack wing ordered his forces to reinforce the perimeter, rest, and setup their own camp while he and the private reconvened with the commander of the fast attack group.
The commander praised her subordinate for his loyalty and swiftness in getting the message delivered. This was like honey to his ears and he lapped it up. He had striven for many years to enter the prestigious ranks he was now a member of and words of praise from his commanding officer was well worth the entire ordeal. With a skip in his step he was dismissed, ordered to take a deserved rest and then join the scouting flights. With that out of the way the commanders got down to business. Due to the historic rivalry they acted slightly antagonistic to each other in public, but in fact they did not dislike each other. Regardless, they had a mission to do and would accomplish it. In agreement the two leaders evenly distributed the heavier forces around the perimeter, readied to strike at a moment’s notice, while the faster wing would continue to scout. In the den the chaos-born prepared their next move, forcing some of their captured canides into a frenzy. They needed to keep the attention of the two wings for as long as possible.
At the citadel of the three, their gazes turned from the villages to the sound of the war drums. They watched intently the armies progression, praying to the all-seeing that it takes no aggressive action. They prepared themselves to intervene again should it warrant it. They did not want to as their last intervention had lead to their deification and did not want to further it at all. Still, they would do their all-seeing given duty and protect their tribesman.
That night, as the left eye looked down upon them, the canides attacked the encampment, driven into a madness by the chaos-born and their master. They were nothing more than beasts now, driven by bloodlust, savage and reckless. The weather-born forces mobilized quickly to counter and repel the incursion. The attackers forewent their standard hit and run tactics and instead charged the more agile defenders. They would be cut down to the last mongrel. The fear imparted to them by the chaos-born kept them from retreating, kept them attacking. The weather-born had no choice, even still they lost a few good soldiers, snatched from the air and torn asunder. Just as suddenly as the attacked happened it was over and the weather-born began the grisly detail of clearing the battlefield and tending to their injured and dead. Two of the fast attack wing and three of the heavy attack wing fell that night. As with tradition their bodies were cremated and returned to the sky, their armor burned along with the bodies.
The normal bantering between the two wings changed in the days following the attack. The pain of losing comrades was something they all knew could happen, but very few had ever felt. The threat of another attack created a palatable air of tension. Everypony became high strung. Accusations began to fly that one group or the other had stood by and let their friends die. Not lifting a hoof to aid them, wanting the glory for themselves. The officers tried to stem these, but failed, fights broke out occasionally between the two groups. The commanders had no other recourse but to segregate their wings to separate sides of the village. This did little to stop the building unrest. Word of mouth among friends who had fought together, bled together, trusted each other were stronger than anything else. Their training had instilled great loyalty to their commanders and to their wing mates, any thoughts of losing them to the actions of so called allies was enraging.
More days passed and the canides returned to their hit and run tactics, but more injuries were sustained in fights between the weather-born than in any of these skirmishes. Slowly the supplies they had brought and scavenged began to stretch thin, the artificial drought taking its toll. The commanders sent for resupply, but the caravans never came. Water and food became tightly rationed and the nerves of everypony frayed further. The commanders refused to leave as long as the skirmishes and attacks occurred, so they stayed. In the Den, the chaos-born with the assistance of their master repelled the clouds, keeping rain away. The skirmishes continued, it was like the canides were unaffected by the drought.
Another week passed with no resupply and the building tension finally erupted into a full on conflict. The same private who had been sent to meet the heavy wing was heading to make a report to his commander when he overheard a conversation in a thought to be deserted building. Peering in he saw the commander of the heavy wing talking with one of the canides. Hoping for a negotiation the private listened on. What he heard was treacherous words. The heavy wing commander was going to sell them out to the brutes. In exchange for unopposed withdrawal, he just had to leave behind the entire light wing as a sacrifice. Stunned the private rushed to his commander to tell her of the dark deal being made. Knowing they had been watched and overheard, the commander and the former-canide chaos-born grinned at each other and laughed.
Breathlessly the private reported what he had overheard to the commander. She scowled and ordered him to keep it to himself. She handed him her personal weapon and gave him the task to do his duty and slay the traitor. Stunned he almost refused, but the commander spoke before he could reply. He must do this or he would show his own disloyalty and be considered a traitor just like the heavy commander. To this he would not refuse and agreed to silence the traitor. She smiled and praised him for the loyalty. That night he snuck into the commander’s room and slit the throat of the traitor. Dropping the weapon he retreated, sick to his stomach. Had he stuck around, he would have noticed that the wound did not bleed. The commander had already been dead.
Hurriedly he reported back to his commander that the deed was done and the betrayer dealt with. His breath caught in his throat when he arrived to find his own commander dead, her stomach ripped open by a heavy attack wing’s hoof claw. His scream split the night, awakening all those that were not on guard duty, all donning their armor for battle. The light wing was arrived quickly and were horrified by what they saw. With no trace of the mongrel’s mounds and the obvious wound, they turned on the heavy attack wing soldiers. Hurling insults and hooves. The heavy attack soldiers in turn alerted their commander, only to find him dead, his throat cut by one of the light attack wing’s feather darts. The building frustration could not be held back and all out war burst forth.
Disoriented, ashamed, and distraught the private took to the sky to get clear of the torrent of battle. The war cries screams broke the calm night as the watch fires illuminated the carnage below. No moon shown that night to pacify their rage. Weather-born turned on weather-born, all semblance of loyalty to anyone else but their commanders lost. Quickly the combat knocked over the fires, igniting the dry structures and grasses like tinder, soon the entire village was a tumultuous conflagration, with demonic images playing across the shadows. Shocked back to reality, the private took to the near forest looking for any source of water he could use to form a cloud and squelch the inferno. Knowing that if the mongrels had water, there must be a source somewhere. Determined to find it he hunted and as if by divine intervention he found it, a small spring, hidden from aerial view by a rock out cropping.
Using his weather-born abilities a cloud of darkest black was constructed, drawing in as much of the lifeblood of the land it could hold. Hopeful to make up for his transgression he took the new cloud, which unknown to him carried a faint green aura, to over the village and with great blows brought forth the rain to the parched soil. Brought forth rain to quench the flames, both physical and mental. The water did just that. It extinguished the physical flames, keeping the fire from spreading to the other parched growth. It also extinguished the flames inside the hearts and minds of the embattled weather-born, their flames of loyalty. Not just to each other, but also to themselves, breaking down their very bodies. Flesh, blood, even the armor they wore, all gave up their loyalties.
The bodies flowed together, each light attack wing member flowing into a heavy attack soldier. Each body returned into being as a merger of the two. The raptor helm the light attack wore, to streamline their face became flesh and blood, it was this new being’s head. The attack claws of the heavy attack wing merged with the legs and adorned them in razor sharp claws. As two bodies became one, so did two minds. Each rejecting the other, blaming the other, only a darker will binding them together. Overhead, relief turned to abject terror as the young private beheld the sickening transformation. His baser instincts taking over and causing him to flee into the night, lest these new abominations spot him. On the ground, the commanders of the two groups, revealed themselves, healthy, alive and returned to the chaos-born forms they had not worn since the first attack that had allowed them to take over. Together they welcomed the new warriors to the Chaos-born.
The chaos-born queen welcomed them all, but they held no loyalty to her or the other chaos-born. Only the dark will of the tender bound them together. To the tender, this did not matter; he had gained a strong, well-trained army of savage fighters. His forces were now complete and just needed training. Soon the assault would be ready, but not before he tapped into further powers, which he currently was. The rains had also liquefied the bodies of the slain commanders, which he channeled into the body he was raising, into his chariot. Soon their tactical minds and strengths suffused the vessel. Three gifts had become one in this new body, bolstered by his own chaos magic. On queue, the chaos-born’s voices echoed in the night. The raptor-like cry of the new members enhanced with the roar of a large cat spread throughout the area.
Still flying, the young private was both exhausted and dehydrated from the rationed supplies began to falter. Losing altitude he began a spiral descent, the mark of the weather-born transformed itself from the exposure and his pure disgust in himself, to mark him not of the daytime sky, but of the nighttime sky. The last of his reserves spent and the adrenalin that had flooded his veins ebbing, he lost consciousness close enough to the ground to survive. With one last flicker if the eyes, he beheld a magnificent castle, one that was normally shrouded from view by magic. Praying to the all-seeing for help, the blackness encased him.