//------------------------------// // Chapter Seven - Landlocked // Story: Ice Fall // by Bluespectre //------------------------------// CHAPTER SEVEN   LANDLOCKED   The atmosphere had changed, and not just because of the incessant thumping of drums and the blare of signal trumpets. Curled up in the corner of the enclosure, Chalk quietly watched the red mare leaning up against the far side, carefully observing the massing army further down in the valley. Something was about to happen, to change the world he knew. He could feel it, he could sense it in the air. His horn began to itch furiously.   Beside him, the mint green mare who’d prevented him from standing up to face his tormentor, was watching something through the gaps in the gate. Whatever was going on, the tension was making him want to cover his ears with his forehooves. He never got the chance, as the red mare approached him.   “Chalky,” Gretel murmured so only he could hear “can you run?”   He blinked up at her, nodding, although it was more out of surprise than anything else. The red mare winked at him,   “Good boy”   Chalk looked at her in confusion. A heartbeat later, the very air itself began to vibrate with the sound of thousands of hooves marching. Instinctively he hauled himself to his hooves and looked out at the massed thestrals moving towards the forest in the distance. His eyes went wide in horror; it was happening again! The killing…it would never end, not until every one of them was…   “Gretel!” The green pony by the gate hissed, discreetly waving a hoof.   A mare screamed.   Chalk’s ears twitched, swivelling toward the sound. There was a loud scuffle from the far end of the enclosure, with several of the ponies pushing in to see what was happening while others backed away from the disturbance in alarm. From somewhere within the press of equines he could hear grunts, shouting, and the disturbingly wicked laugh of a stallion,   “Got you now, girly!”   A mare’s voice shrieked out, “Get…off me, you rat!”   “Watch out, she kicks!” Somepony shouted as the crowd surged back suddenly. There was a bony crack,   “Ow! Bloody hell fire!”   “Told you” It was Docs voice.   Whatever was happening had attracted the attention of one of the griffin guards who quickly summoned another of his colleagues and the thestral officer who he’d seen earlier. Chalk backed into the fence as the three approached with weapons drawn.   “Damn you, get off me!” The mare’s shrieks cut through him, making him take a step forward. What was going on? Whatever it was it didn’t sound good and with the guards heading their way, it wasn’t going to end well for them.   The gate was pulled open and the guards marched in, heading straight towards the milling crowd of ponies,   “What’s going on here? Get back, all of you!”   The thestral pushed on through. His guards, unable to make any headway through the mass of equines, were forced to follow in single file. Finally, with a snort, the young officer managed to break into the centre of the mass. Taking a breath, he looked down at the sand coated mare with the scarlet eyes, lying on the ground with a large brown stallion pinning her down. The officer opened his mouth to shout as the stallion looked round at him with a sly grin,   “…Gotcha”   The ponies in the enclosure surged forward, knocking the officer hooves away from his sword as he glanced back over his shoulder to look for his guards. They were nowhere to be seen; engulfed in the tide of pressing Celestians. The eyes of the ponies, so dull and lifeless earlier, now glowed with renewed determination. The officer stared at the brown stallion as he rose to his hooves and released the mare.   Stock shrugged, “Sorry about this, but you know how it is.” With a savage buck, his hooves connected with the thestral’s jaw, sending him to the ground like a block of stone. Reaching down, Stock took the thestral officer’s sword and began removing the creatures armour. Others surrounded them, blocking them from sight until eventually, a very strange thestral-esque armoured ‘thing’ emerged, flanked by two ponies in the most appallingly badly fitting armour Chalk had ever seen. Even at a distance they’d stand out, but…   “You coming or would you rather stay here?”    Maroon eyes stared at him. Gretel’s expression was one of both agitation and excitement combined. She didn’t wait for an answer. Before Chalk could even take a breath, the mare grabbed his flanks and shoved him bodily into the mass of ponies heading out through the gate. Leading the way the large dark brown stallion, Stock, looked almost black in the failing light. The flanking ‘griffins’ on the other hoof, looked more like a very badly thought out fancy dress act. Chalk squeezed his eyes shut and muttered a silent prayer to the goddess. If ever they needed her, it was now.   They moved slowly, unhurriedly, but with a single minded purpose. Every step, every single inch, felt like an eternity, waiting for that inevitable confrontation. Chalk Dust could feel the others around him, hear their breathing, the press of his fellows against him providing a level of mutual re-assurance. But, surely somepony had noticed the mass of ponies shambling up the valley away from the enclosure? He shook his mane, ramming the negativity from his mind and focussed only on walking, simply…walking.   A voice beside him spoke quietly but confidently, “We’re nearly there, Chalky”   His eyes met Gretel’s. “Where?” he asked, barely daring to speak in case it shattered the fragility of their situation.   “See those trees up ahead?” She motioned towards a small copse not far away, “We’re nearly home free. Just do as we tell you, and you’ll be okay, right?”   He nodded. What else could he do? Part of him wanted to break out, to run as far as his legs would take him, but they’d be on him in seconds. He knew it of course, but that said, where was everypony? The camp was strangely deserted. Although he couldn’t see very much from where he was, it looked like the entire enemy camp had emptied and was massed on the plains below, gradually disappearing into the forest. Surely they would have left some of their number behind to guard the camp?   All of a sudden they stopped. Around him, ponies shifted nervously, hooves pawing the ground, the sense of anger, anticipation and fear washing over him like a wave. He could hear male voices coming from the front of their group. Gretel snorted beside him, giving him a nervous smile. Chalk strained his hearing to listen to what was being said. If he concentrated, if he turned his head just so, he could just about make out the strange, heavy intonation of what he assumed was a minotaur,   “Where you go with ponies?”   “The Colonel wants them on board to crew the ship for the attack.”   “No orders for this.”   “What’s your name”   “Huh?”   “Your name, soldier, you do have one don’t you?”   “I am Fettle”   “Good. Now then Fettle, you can wait here while I go and tell the goddess why the attack has to wait while we double check her commands. Is that alright with you?”   “No! Fettle not want goddess mad”   “Right then, so I’ll ask you Fettle, will you allow me to take these ponies on board as ordered by her divine majesty?”   “Uh…yes.”   “Good, now help us shift these…”   “What’s going on here? Who are all these ponies?” Another voice, the alien sound of a thestral.   Chalk’s heart sank as beside him, Gretel tensed.   “I don’t know you, and why are you wearing thestral armour?”   There was a sudden intake of breath, “GUA...”   The word ended in the sickening sound of gagging, a grunt of pain and Stock’s voice calling out to them,   “Come on! Let’s move!”   Gretel reared, “Everypony, follow us!”   As one, the ponies surged forward, heading towards only the goddess knew where. Gretel suddenly grabbed Chalk and pulled him to one side,   “You’re with me, cutie.” She tossed him a sword, “You know how to use that, don’t you?” Chalk nodded. Gretel’s maroon eyes gleamed, “Good, now let’s haul flank!”   They ran. Not far ahead, a copse soon hove into view and by the looks of it they were heading straight for it. Beside it however, partially hidden by the trees, lay the strangest sight Chalk had ever seen in his life. He’d seen them in the harbour when he was younger of course, rocking gently at anchor, their huge sails snapping in the wind, their seasoned timbers creaking with the movement of the waves, but never in the middle of a…a field?   Gretel shouted over to him as they ran, “When we get there, straight up the gang plank, you understand?”   “Yes!” He yelled back, “What is that? Why…?”   “-You never seen a sky galleon before?” the red mare laughed, “You really have had a sheltered life!”   Shouts and bellows around them began to increase, coming ever nearer. Gretel gave her head a shake, “Tell you what, Chalky, if we make it out of here alive, I’ll give you a guided tour!”   Chalk’s heart soared, adrenalin flowing through him as he channelled his magic, “Let’s just get there in one piece first, eh?”   There was something about this mare, something in her mannerism and bearing that gave him the heart, strength and the will to fight. How she did it, whether deliberately or something that just happened when he was near her, he didn’t know. Right then he didn’t care, he just wanted to get away from that hellish place and put as much distance between him and it as equinely possible.   One of the ponies suddenly cried out as a bolt found its mark, the young stallion crashing to the ground. Nopony stopped. Their goal was now so near that not even the gods could cease their headlong charge.   Stock was the first up the gangplank, quickly pulling the heavy tarpaulin off a large object near the railing. Doc was hot on his hooves, encouraging the mass of ponies onto the deck and barking orders. The gangplank though was only a few feet wide, barely enough for two ponies at a time to climb up and was a natural bottleneck for so many.   Gretel’s expression said it all, “We need to buy them some time! Chalky, you up for a fight?”   Chalk’s heart was hammering fit to burst, his chest burning with exertion. Without speaking, his actions told the cherry red mare all she needed to know as the white stallion’s sword took the first minotaur’s leg out from under it. Gritting his teeth, Chalk shifted his weight, all his months of training flooding through his mind, guiding his movements, driving the heavy blade deep into the heart of the creature that would have sent him to the next world if it could.   He grinned, “You first…”   More of them were coming. Alerted by the shouting, what looked more like workers than warriors, were piling out of the shacks and tents dotted around the area. Few wore armour and the weapons being wielded had a distinctly familiar look to them. Although quite possibly a lot less immediately lethal than a battle axe or sword, being hit with a claw hammer or a length of wood didn’t appeal to Chalk in the slightest. Regardless of the weapons being used however, more frightening was that the oncoming beasts all bore the same deadly expression as their more heavily armoured counterparts. Chalk’s horn glowed, the blue glow intensifying as he blasted the nearest of them in the chest. Fellow woodworkers or not, he felt no compunction about send these things back into the pit from whence they came.   Movement beside him made him jump back as Chalk dodged a potentially killing blow with a sledgehammer. His sword answered; cutting up and around, slicing through muscle and sinew. The minotaur bellowed, falling to its knees. Without pause, Chalks sword flicked round, opening the wounded creature’s throat. All the time, his mind was clear, focussed, moving as one with his sword as he’d been taught. The months of endless drills flowed back to him, his muscles working almost on instinct: ‘keep all other thoughts out’, ‘cut’, ‘thrust’, ‘parry’. A bolt of magic sizzled past him from somewhere and he span, blasting the…pony? For only barest second he caught sight of the mare as she fell, taken full in the chest by his magic energy bolt. They had ponies here? He’d heard of them, but…   “Damn!” The familiar voice cried out in anger. Gretel? Chalk homed in on voice, “Gretel!”   Minotaurs pressed in on them, hemming them in against the hull. Those left at the bottom of the gangplank were now fighting with anything they had to hoof, but there were so many of them! Too many. Chalk blasted another and another, hacking his assailants down in his determination to reach the red mare,   “GRETEL!”   “Chalky…” The voice seemed so far away, but then…he saw her. Gretel was being forced away from the rest of the ponies, drifting away in a sea of snarling, growling beasts. The white stallion pushed hard, striking down another minotaur, taking a heavy blow across his flank as he tried to dodge. Something sharp cut into his neck, the burning pain lancing down his body as he tried to reach her,   “Gretel! GRETEL!”   He saw a glimpse of red, and then the tide of minotaurs parted momentarily revealing the mare as she was smashed to the ground by one of the huge beasts, the monstrous thing kicking her savagely as another cracked her across the head with a pickaxe handle. Chalk screamed wordlessly, trying to reach her, but it was too far…   The hulking minotaur raised a felling axe, gripping the helpless mare’s mane in his other claw. The thing’s teeth were bared with deadly intent as Gretel looked across to Chalk racing toward her. Those maroon eyes, so strong, so true…she smiled,   “Chalky…”   Chalk Dusts cry of impotent rage, fear and hate cracked the air, “No! NOOO!”   Colour turned to black and white.   A negative imagine burned across the eyes of those could still see as silence drowned everything, sucking up even the cries of the dying in the cold of the early evening air. Slowly, the world began to re-emerge, the emptiness replaced with the moans of the dying and cries of the wounded. Chalk covered his eyes, huddling into a ball. Miss would be coming soon, and she’d be angry with him. He’d been bad, really, really bad. They’d deserved it though, and for that he wasn’t sorry. Those bullies, those vile, horrible foals; they wouldn’t hurt anypony else now, not any more. But…his mother, she would be upset, the teachers would tell her what he’d done and she’d cry. He didn’t want to see that! He didn’t want his mother to…   A freezing cold deluge of water hit him full in the face, bringing with it the coldness of bitter reality as it crashed into Chalk with all the force of a tidal wave. In shock, he flailed around, dragging himself to his feet as the world seemed to lurch under him. He broke into a heavy bout of coughing, throwing up what little was inside his stomach before a pair of rough hooves grabbed him and hauled him in front of a dark brown muzzle. Stock’s chestnut eyes stared into his from mere inches away,   “I don’t know what the hell that was boy, but we’ve got to get the hell out of here now and I need everypony, EVERPONY to keep these buckers off us until I can get the old girl skyward.” He gave Chalk a brief shake, “Do you understand?”   Chalk coughed, “Gre…Gretel…”   “Never mind her, now…” Stock turned round, ducking as something whizzed overhead, “Dammit! We’ve got boarders!”   Staggering backwards, Chalk tried to focus on what was happening in front of him. He blinked, surely this wasn’t real? No…good goddess, it…   A screech from behind made him flinch down instinctively, barely avoiding a wickedly curved sword snarling mere inches over his head. A shock of pain hit him, the jolt just enough to bring him back to his senses along with the image of the griffin bringing its sword around at neck level. Chalk lunged, ducking inside the feathered creatures swing, ramming his horn into its throat. Although not that sharp, the combination of anger, fear and momentum were enough. Gasping for air, the griffin fell back clutching the gaping wound, its life blood spraying out over its claws. Chalk span, kicking the beast to the ground and in a swift move that would have impressed his impassive weapons teacher, snatched up the griffin’s sword and plunged it into the things heart. Silently, it fell back off the blade, landing with a heavy thud on the ships deck.   Ships deck…   No wonder he was so confused! Good goddesses, it was a ship! He hadn’t been dreaming it after all! Near him, two ponies were busy pulling the gangplank up while others hauled on ropes. Even more of them were fighting off the attacking griffins. Fortunately, the enemy appeared to lack any formal co-ordination and their efforts were piecemeal, with no more that one or two diving in at a time. Hissing past his ear, a crossbow bolt raked Chalks haunch making him grit his teeth in pain. Damn it, he needed to keep focussed! Looking up, he caught a glimpse of his griffin assailant as it took cover behind the central mast, reloading its crossbow. Growling, blue light glowed around him…   Suddenly a crossbow was thrust at him, his magic winking out as he took a step back in surprise, “Gretel!”   The red mare, covered in makeshift bandages and being fussed over by an irritated Doc, lifted her own weapon and nodded to him, “Don’t use magic on board my ship!” She lifted her own crossbow and shot at the griffin, the bolt narrowly missing the creature as it ducked back just in time. Gretel gave Chalk a shove, “Well go on then, don’t stand there like a lump of wood!” The griffin’s next shot thunked heavily into the deck between them. The red mare gave Chalk a swift whack around the back of the head, “Shoot the damned thing!”   Chalk winced at the blow, but lifted his crossbow dutifully. He could see the griffin, the way the creature would peek around the mast just so before it levelled its own weapon…   The world of sound dwindled to little more than a background hum as he concentrated, bringing the target to him, closing the distance, and squeezed the release lever. The griffin, its crossbow loaded, took a breath and rolled around the mast, lifting its weapon to its eye to shoot. It jerked, the steel tipped bolt bursting out the back of its skull while the wind whipped through its feathers; the last time it felt the air before the bloodied form slammed into the unyielding timbers below.   “Damn…” Gretel stared in amazement, “You sure can shoot, Chalky, I’ll give you that.”   Chalk Dust lowered his crossbow and looked about the deck. There were no more griffins, nor any more minotaurs for that matter. Stock was still barking orders, ignoring the bodies lying on the deck. They could be dealt with later. Gretel quickly hooked the crossbow onto her back and was off up to the quarterdeck, shouting orders of her own. Deciding it was best to keep out of the way, Chalk checked his weapons and recovered several bolts from the dead and pulled the one from the deck that nearly hit him earlier. He smirked. He’d keep that as a souvenir; definitely one for the tavern!   “Bosun, we loaded and ready?”   A familiar female voice boomed out from above him, making Chalk look up in surprise. Another voice from further along the deck, called back,   “Aye Cap’n.”   Chalk stared in amazement at the red mare leaning her hooves against the carved wooden railing as she bellowed her commands:   “Cast off forerd!”   “Cast off forerd, aye Cap’n”   The deck suddenly shifted under Chalks hooves, sending him staggering into the railing as the bow of the ship lurched upwards.   “Cast off aft!”   “Cast off aft, aye”   The stern of the vessel heaved and creaked ominously, sending loose objects rattling and sliding across the deck as the ship gradually rose into the air. Ponies clambered up the rigging, using hooked attachments on their legs, moving like large spiders. Higher and higher they went until they were able to unfurl the massive sails which were already beginning to catch the wind. Chalk didn’t know what to look at next; it was…a ship, yes, a ship! His eyes were as wide as saucers as he took it all in…a flying ship! Not even in his wildest dreams had he thought something like this existed, and nopony had ever even mentioned such a thing. The story tellers, the old soaks down at the barrack tavern with their fanciful tales of adventures in far off lands, none of them, none had spoken of such a thing. It was a true marvel!   “You there. Hoy! You finished staring like a beached cod?”   Chalk gave himself a shake and peered back up at a red mare. Gretel was leaning her chin on her crossed forelegs as she watched him from the quarterdeck balustrade,   “Coming up, Mister Dust?”   Chalk shook his head in wonderment. What did you say in times like this? He thought back to his days visiting the docks with his mother when she went to collect the rare and exotic woods for her carving. He would sit and listen to the sounds of life going on around him, completely disinterested in his mothers bartering. The dock and those enormous wooden galleons were what really caught his imagination. They smelled of wood, spices and the promise of adventures in far off lands unseen by pony eyes. How he’d longed to get away, to be his own stallion. Ah, to be an adventurer! He snorted, letting out a small nicker before smiling up into the bright maroon eyes of Gretel. Chalk nodded his head to her,   “Aye, Cap’n!”   **************************   From up here, Chalk could see the entire deck, including, as he found out to his surprise, how rapidly the land was disappearing below them. For a moment, vertigo squeezed at his innards, the world around him lurching before quickly re-asserting itself. As a unicorn, flying was something he’d only ever been able to dream of, especially as pegasi were few and far between back home in his village. Those that did live there were getting on in years and rarely flew further than the tavern. Then one day it had all changed; he’d joined the army, and then there were whole regiments, or ‘flights’ of them. Chalk and the others could only look on in wonder, marvelling at the winged ponies and their incredible aerobatic displays. It must be wonderful, he thought enviously, to be able to cast off the shackles of gravity and feel the air running through your mane without a care. Now, here he was, high above the land, the wind catching his mane and whistling around him. He may not have wings, but he was doing it! He was flying!   Gretel walked up beside him, leaning on the railing, “You like it?”   Chalk was grinning from ear to ear, “Like it? It’s amazing! I never knew anything like this existed!”   “There’s not many like her,” Gretel smiled, gazing distantly at the darkening sky, “We’ve been together since I was foal.” She ran a hoof lovingly over the carved balustrade, “She was my fathers, and when he went to be with the herd, she came to me.”   Below them on the main deck, Stock and the green mare where busy issuing orders. The mass of ponies moved fluidly, each knowing their job and tending the vessel like the inner working of some incredible machine. Some of them, Chalk noticed, had been employed in throwing the bodies overboard after stripping them of anything useful. Others, the rescued prisoners, the injured, or simply exhausted, had been ushered quickly below decks. Gretel reached out and took Chalk’s chin, her eyes peering at him intensely. He smiled back at her, trying to pull away playfully, but she kept her grip firm,   “You’re hurt.” She announced levelly.   Taking in the rest of him, Gretel trotted over to the front of the quarterdeck,   “Doc! Get your useless sack of bones up here, pronto!”   “I’m okay!” Chalk laughed, “Honestly, I…” he staggered, “Oh…buck, it…”   “Grab him, somepony!” Docs voice seemed to be coming from far away for some reason, “Hold him still, damn it all!”   Chalk’s vision became blurred, accompanied by a sickening feeling of being heavy and yet light at the same time which overwhelmed him. Blinking, he stared up into a pair of deep maroon eyes as he was laid on the deck. Gretel looked worried, but the Doc was here, he’d know what to do. Wouldn’t he?   “Celestia’s hairy arse, Gretel, he’s a mess.” Hooves, prodded Chalk’s sides, examining his head, neck and flanks, “He’s lost a lot of blood.”   Gretel’s voice sounded agitated, “Get him below, Doc.” She paused, “No, on second thought take him to my cabin. Use my bed.”   Pain, hot and insistent, shot through Chalk’s body, the image of a familiar black stallion suddenly prominent in his mind’s eye. He tried to speak but a wracking cough took him. Gretel reached down and gently lifted his hoof,   “It’s alright Chalky, you’ll be fine. The Doc knows what he’s doing.”   “No…” he gasped, “Gretel, please. My friend…” Goddesses his throat was so dry, it was like trying to talk with a mouthful of grain, “Bracken…he’s my friend. We…we can’t…”   The red mare stroked his foreleg, “We have to get away from here Chalky. I’m sorry, but we can’t endanger the ship to look for your friend. He could be anywhere.”   “He…he’s with the army.” Chalk looked up at her pleadingly, “Please, Gretel, don’t…don’t abandon them…”   Doc looked up from his ministration, “Oh no! Don’t even think about it, Captain. We’re up to our fetlocks in it here, and if you…”   “MISTER HAGGIS!” The mare’s voice bellowed out over the sound of the wind, “BRING US ABOUT.”   A raspy voice called back, “Bringing us about, aye!”   The vessel creaked ominously as it banked into a sharp turn.   Doc shook his head, “You never change, Gretel. You’re just like your father.”   “Oh belt up, you old fart.” Gretel gritted her teeth, her shoulder length yellow mane rippling like spun gold in the gathering darkness. The sight of her seemed to fill Chalk’s heart with a renewed energy and he was taken with a sudden and overwhelming urge to be with her, to stand by her side. Whatever had possessed him, grabbed his soul in its hooves and pushed him forward. With a surge of strength he never knew he had, Chalk pulled away from Doc and rose shakily to his hooves, grabbing the balustrade for support with his forelegs. Gretel stared in amazement as the white unicorn stood up, the look of determination and magic in his eyes apparently overriding the pain and fatigue his body had endured. He looked at her and smiled.   Stock appeared below the quarterdeck, calling up, “Orders, Captain?”   The red mare kept staring at Chalk then gave herself a hard shake. Every part the ship’s Captain, Gretel’s presence like a burning beacon for the crew to take heart from. She grabbed the railing and called down,   “Beat to quarters, Master Stock.”   “Aye, aye, Captain”   Doc continued to fuss around Chalk as he applied various salves and bandages while also trying to wash out his wounds. At one point, Chalk tried to move, only to be firmly pulled back again by the irritated ships surgeon, “Will you stop bloody well moving around! I don’t know how the hell you’re on your hooves as it is without you arsing about while I’m trying to work!”   Gretel was busy directing the ships company, leaving Chalk feeling decidedly useless. Injured as he was he’d be of little help even if he knew what to do, and in such an alien environment as the large ‘sky galleon’, as the Captain had called it, keeping out of the way of the crew was likely to be the most prudent course of action. Beneath him, he felt a bandage being tightened against his hind leg followed by a frustrated exhale of breath,   “I don’t know what the hell you’ve done to our Captain, boy”, Doc muttered, his pink eyes glancing up at him, “But if anything happens to this ship, or worse, to Gretel, the crew will hang you from the bowsprit.” He shook his head slowly, focussing on his work, “If you’re lucky” he added quietly.   Chalk didn’t hear him. He was too busy staring up at the huge white sails of the galleon. The way they rippled and billowed in the wind was beyond anything he could have ever dreamt of as a foal, yet here he was, on board. Everything that had happened to him since river valley was almost dream-like. Had he really fought those minotaurs? The pain running through him suggested he’d come off quite badly himself, but at least he’d made it; he was alive! Chalk closed his eyes and breathed deeply, almost expecting on some level to take in the smell of salt air and the sea. Beside him, Doc stood up, shaking his head at him in wonder, and trotted off down the steps to the main deck to tend his other patients.   From all around, the loud hum of the crew at work came and went, mingling with the sounds of the wind and sails. Above it all, voices called out to one another from up in the rigging to others down on the deck. Several of the crew were busily engaged in bringing up barrels from below decks, their movements fluid and precise. They were a rough looking lot, certainly, but not anything like as…what was the word, ‘salty?’ as Chalk had expected for a ships crew. Maybe he’d read too many foals stories, but even in them there was no mention of flying ships, despite references to them ‘flying over the water’. But of course, the writer had probably used that word descriptively, and not to be taken literally.   Another barrel thumped onto the deck, the mint green pony watching anxiously, carefully directing the winching and hauling operation with a practiced eye. As each one was brought up, several ponies took the lifted barrels and rolled them into position by the bottom of the quarterdeck, lashing them securely in place. Further along, Stock was supervising several large metal and wood devices similarly being brought up from the ship’s hold through the forward cargo hatch. Another group of ponies worked at securing the odd contraptions into mounts of some description at intervals along the deck. Finally, large oil cloth bundles of spears were brought up and neatly stacked along the ships sides, no doubt for dropping on an unsuspecting enemy. ‘Or griffins’, Chalk thought to himself as his neck twinged painfully, ‘can’t forget those bloody things’.   The ship gradually came out of its slow turn, righting itself and glided effortlessly on into the gathering night. No lights were lit, not even a spark, and certainly no smoking. Chalk had a sudden twinge of regret he’d lost his pipe. It wasn’t his favourite one, that was still safe back at the barracks, but it had been a gift from well wishers in the village. Bracken had one just like it; two pipes for the two local heroes going off to war. He leaned on the railing peering out at the distant specks of torchlight. They seemed an ethereal counterpoint to the peaceful white light of the stars in the sky far above. Between them, the ship slipped in virtual silence: a predator stalking its prey. Chalk grinned to himself. He’d have to write a book about this one day; how about, ‘Chalky and the Sky Pirates’? Shaking his head at his flight of whimsy, Chalk leaned down and picked up the curved sword the griffin had tried to end his short military career with only a hour or so earlier. It was a solid piece; sharp, and deadly. He ran a hoof down the blade. It was a good sword, perhaps needing a little sharpening and maybe a touch of oil to guard against rust, but it would serve him well. Sliding it back into its scabbard, he clucked his tongue. The griffin must have been  a lot slimmer than he was; he’d have to see about getting the strap lengthened and adjusted for a pony frame at some point. Maybe one of the crew could help? The sound of hooves on wood made him look up. In a flourish Gretel appeared, all but bouncing up the steps, her eyes sparkling. She looked radiant, despite the white bandages wrapped around her head which reminded Chalk all too clearly of her recent close call with the reaper.   “How you keeping up, cutie?” Her smile demanded a response in kind.   “As well as you, apparently Cap’n” Chalk grinned.   Gretel laughed, slapping him on the shoulder, “I like you Chalky!” she suddenly grabbed him around the neck, making him squeak, “Oh yes…yes I do!” Barking out a laugh, the red coated Captain nipped Chalk’s ear and gave him a whack on the rump making him stagger, “Now keep out of the way, Mister Dust and watch how a mare commands a galleon!”   A young colt appeared briefly, hoofing a large black hat up to the Captain’s waiting hoof. Ramming the gold trimmed thing on her head, she stood up on her hind legs, holding her forelegs out to either side and cocked her head,   “Well?”   “You look every part the dashing captain!” Chalk laughed, leaning against the railing. With one hoof on his sword hilt and bandaged himself, he wondered just how he must have looked, never mind the hat wearing mare. Great goddesses, all she needed now was a beard and an eye patch. Instead, she looked alluring, deliciously exotic…and dangerous. Chalk felt a sudden jolt of an unfamiliar emotion running through him. The surprised expression on his face had not unnoticed by the red mare; she gave him a sidelong wink and shifted her long coat tails, revealing a flash of her shapely hind quarters. He shouldn’t have been surprised really, in fact, he would have been more so if it wasn’t: the cutie mark emblazoned upon the red mare’s flank was a large ship’s wheel. He took a deep breath and nodded to her. She was the Captain alright, and somehow, somewhere along the line, he’d become part of her crew.