//------------------------------// // Chapter Forty Eight - The Face of War // Story: Ice Fall // by Bluespectre //------------------------------// CHAPTER FORTY EIGHT   THE FACE OF WAR   There were less of them now than there had been, but they were still outnumbered. Tempest rubbed his eyes; when was the last time he’d had any sleep? Days? Weeks? He couldn’t remember, but none of that was important, only the rage and hatred that drove him on. His troops looked to him for leadership, but what they had really come for was the same reason he had. Even the ponies which he had with him had the same look about them as the thestrals and even minotaurs…they wanted to kill the ones responsible for murdering their friends…their families.   They’d tracked them for days. It hadn’t been difficult: one of their ponies had been a hunter working at the griffin food traders - a strange profession for an Equestrian perhaps, but everybody needed to make a living. The biggest challenge they’d had, had been those damned pegasi that acted as scouts for the enemy. With their razor sharp eyesight, it had taken all their ingenuity to stay hidden, but as clever as the enemy was, there was a chink in their armour. Nearing the dense heart of the forest, the pegasi were obviously finding it harder and harder to find a place to land, and their scouting missions were ending earlier in the day to allow them to join their fellows for the night. And pegasi being pegasi, they had a tendency to keep to their own kind for company - a trait that kept them nicely contained.   That had been the focus of their attack. That, and the medical supplies.   Tempest stared off towards the Celestian encampment; they were learning. Their commander appeared to have some military experience and had prepared good defences, now moving during the daytime rather than the night, thus negating some of the benefits the thestrals enjoyed due to their natural colouring.   “Sir,” the scout slipped up beside him as quiet a breath, “A group of the Celestians have broken off from the main camp and are heading towards the village on the edge of the forest. They’ve left their baggage and equipment in the camp under light guard.”   Tempest narrowed his eyes, scanning the camp with his telescope. It was hard to see with the dappled light, but there was definitely still a presence there. He could see the outlines of ponies moving around, but there were many more hiding behind barricades and brush - no doubt keeping a low profile to avoid being shot by a long range bolt. He scratched his chin in thought. He’d deliberately avoided giving them any reason to think they were being hunted by avoiding any sniping or other incursions. Rather, he wanted them to continue as normal, letting them believe the attack had been an isolated incident. Tempest had bided his time until he was ready, until the time was right, and now…now it was.   “Time to show our Celestian friends that if you play with fire…” he grinned coldly, “you get burned.” He looked over his shoulder to his minotaur sergeant, “Axel, you know the plan, have the warriors move into attack formation.”   The sergeant clapped his hand to his chest in salute and hurried away. High above them in the branches of the trees, the birds were singing happily, completely oblivious of the carnage that was about to be wrought in the peaceful forest below. Tempest checked his armour and weapons before running through the plan one last time in his head. With most of the Celestians away, they had a chance to hit them, and hit them hard. With no supplies, they would soon weaken, and they would fall – one by one. He pushed himself back into the forest, careful so as not to alert any eagle eyed sentry to his presence. Trotting back to his troops, Tempest unbuckled his axe and checked its blade. A thin length of ribbon, pink with white flecks, hung from the sturdy haft – a splash of colour that was strangely out of place on such a battle scarred weapon; but it was what that simple piece of cloth signified, that meant more to him than any mere blade. Carefully, the warrior lifted lifted it with his hoof and inhaled; it still smelt of her…of Blue Water. He closed his eyes and remembered. Slowly, Tempest sank down to his knees, listening, waiting…   He spoke quietly, “Sergeant…”   “Sir?”   The black coated warrior looked up toward the Celestian camp, to the soldiers moving up into their positions, ready to attack,   “Remember…that white coated bastard’s mine.”   The sergeant nodded, “By your command.”   Moments later a waved signal showed everything was in place. Tempest gritted his teeth,   “Do it.” A bolt shot out, fizzing through the air and struck the explosive barrel with a hollow ‘thunk’, followed by an almost imperceptible delay before the device detonated, heralding the concussive blast that radiated out from the centre of the clearing. It had been one of the few that had survived the assault on the depot, one of many that had been sent there for decommissioning after the Celstian ‘surrender’. Unlucky for the Celestian’s that the device was just as deadly now as it had ever been. Lifting his hoof, Tempest, the thestrals, the minotaurs and their allies rose as one from the forest like avenging demons. Weapons were drawn, teeth bared, all of them were ready and screaming their anger and hatred as they charged forward. In a flood of steel and muscle, the warriors of the Goddess swept into the smoking crater left by the explosion and into the camps interior, straight into…   The sergeant turned and looked at his commander, lifting one of the hessian sacks that had been leaned against the barricade, the rope attached to it and others giving the impression that…   “GET OUT! GET OUT OF HERE NOW!”   Some made it, but not many. Green fire, so horribly familiar, so cruelly efficient, turned the camp into an explosion that rivalled the one that had reduced the barracks and depot to blackened shards. It was like a giant had lifted the very earth beneath their hooves and flung both it, and those upon it, through the air as effortlessly as though they were ants. The blood, the screams, the cries…Tempest’s world vanished in a sea of unimaginable horror - it was happening again, dear Goddess, it was happening…again…   Darkness enveloped him, taking it down into its warm embrace, mercifully pulling him away from the cries of the wounded and dying…even his own.   *************************   Coated in soot and mud, the ponies moved closer to the smoking crater. Many were staring in open eyed shock, a mixture of horror and fascination at the sheer brutality of the explosion on their faces. Body parts had landed around them like rain from hell, some ‘pieces’ horrifyingly stuck in the tree branches above them. It had worked. It had taken most of their explosives to do it, but they’d done it, they’d lured the enemy into their camp and sent them to the next world. For most of them it had been quick, but for others…   “Lieutenant?” It was one of the medics, “Sir?”   Cove trotted over to her, sheathing his sword. It was a pony, an earth stallion like him, his fawn coloured coat soaked in blood, contrasting with the white of bones protruding from multiple breaks along his legs, while his mane and tail were all but burned away. Tempest could barely look; how was he still alive? The stallion coughed, gasping for breath while the medic shook her head. The message was all too clear - he wouldn’t last long.   Leaning down, the Lieutenant spoke quietly to the dying pony,   “Who are you?” he asked, “Why would you fight with the Legion?”   The stallion gritted his teeth, blood soaking his once white teeth,   “B…because…” his coughed, his eyes unfocussed, “because…”   “I’ll tell you why Celestian…”   Cove looked up in alarm as a tall thestral suddenly rose from the grass, mud and debris, swatting the medical pony aside as if she were nothing. Its eyes burned with an intensity given all the more fuel by pain and hatred,   “You murdered his sister, his brother and his entire family.” He hefted a huge battle axe, “And now…” he paused, staring at the Lieutenant, his eyes suddenly going wide in realisation, “It’s you…IT’S YOU!” with a scream of unbridled hate, the thestral flung himself at the Lieutenant, the axe snarling through the air and knocking Cove’s sword flying out of his grasp. With a horrifying howl, thestrals, minotaurs and ponies charged at them from the forest, slamming into them with the full fury of the Legion. No quarter was asked, and none was given. Axe, sword and spear, fire and magic, all were brought into play with deadly efficiency.   Cove tucked his legs under himself and rolled away, desperately trying to reach his sword as the thestral’s axe embedded itself in the ground where he’d been a millisecond before. The thestral screeched in fury, his hooves lashing out and clipping Cove under the chin and sending him sprawling. He gasped in a breath - the warrior’s eyes were like the core of the underworld! He’d seen battle madness before, but nothing like this - nothing! Snatching his sword up in his forehooves, the Lieutenant barely deflected the next swing, managing to bring the blade up and under the thestrals guard, raking his chest. Blood sprayed from the wound, but the creature continued the attack as if nothing had happened. It reared on its hind legs and swung again and again, kicking, biting, it was all the young officer could do to stay alive. Suddenly, the thestral paused, its eyes narrowing, fire licking the side of its muzzle,   “Cove…” it hissed, “I’m going to kill you, Cove, you sickening piece of evil filth!”   The Lieutenant wiped his muzzle, trying to catch his breath. What did the thing just say? He jumped back just in time for the next attack. Fire, blasted out, catching his fur and setting his mane alight. Howling in pain and fright, the Lieutenant dropped to the ground and rolled, trying to put the flames out, but the thestral was expecting it. With a rib cracking jolt, the black coated creature was on him, his axe discarded as he rammed his hooves into Coves throat,   “You bastard!” it shrieked, “You murdered my mare, you murdered my son! I’m going to crush the life from you and watch you die as I watched them!”   Cove kicked and thrashed, desperately trying to shove the skeletal creature from him, but it was too powerful - far too powerful. He gasped for air, choking,   “I…I’m…sorry…”   The thestral pushed harder still, ramming the pony into the ground, “You’re sorry? You’re not sorry! But you will be…in hell!”   There was a sickening crack and Cove coughed, blood spraying from his mouth as his vision narrowed and sparks of light seemed to flow around him like fireflies. He was dying, and there was nothing he could do…nothing. All he could think of was Fair Breeze, the wonderful orange mare who’d shown him such kindness, such love, and now he was going to break her heart…   “I’m sorry…”   The thestral stopped. Slowly, with a look of bewilderment, he sat up, lifting his hooves from Cove’s neck. He looked surprised, his eyes staring down at his own hooves. To the Lieutenant’s amazement, the thetral stared past him, his features softening, as a smile of incredible gentleness and warmth spread over them. He reached out,   “Blue? You’re…alive…”   The thestral slumped forward, making Cove gasp for breath until a dark coated leg kicked the lifeless corpse from him. The cloaked pony leaned down and pulled his bolt from the black creatures side and wiped it clean before staring down at the Lieutenant with eyes as lifeless as the dead thestral’s,   “The usual fee.”   Cove lay on the ground coughing, desperately trying to get some air into his tortured lungs while he watched the heartless creature walk away. Slowly, painfully, he clambered to his hooves with the help of one of his ponies. He felt sick to his stomach, and not just from the damage the thestral had done to his body, it was all around him: death, suffering, the agony he had brought to this once wonderful land. In the smoking remains of their camp, ponies rolled about in indescribable torment while medics, the few they had left, tried desperately to save them - those they could reach in time. Others lay quietly, staring out at their last view of this world, slowly slipping over to the next. Cove looked down at his hooves, to the ruin that had once been a thestral warrior - a warrior from another land. He had been his enemy, and yet…what he had said…   Something fluttered in the smoke laden breeze catching his eye. He reached down, lifting the piece of ragged cloth in his hoof. It was pink, pink with white flecks. Why? Why would a thestral…? Cove sank to his knees, hanging his head,   “Oh, Celestia…” The Lieutenant gasped shakily, “What have we become?”