Chapter 1 Family Ties
Captain Silverwing observed the landscape around her. It had been three days since she and her squad left the city of Prancy, scouting around its outskirts. Her orders were simple and clear: find Lieutenant Quicksilver before he was taken too far. However, they had little luck in finding him so far. Her squad consisted of at least twenty-five royal guards and at least a hooful of militia, veterans who had served the longest fighting inside Prancy. In total there were forty of the strongest and most capable ponies that she had assembled for this mission, and she wouldn’t have it in any other way.
She turned to Hammer and Anvil, two royal guards who now served under her command. Both seemed so opposite of each in terms of personality, yet they worked so well together, complimenting each other. She looked at the two, discussing their experiences in the city, and saw both of the wounds they had received since the battle of Prancy. Anvil, a gray stallion with a red mane, had taken a claw to his face and had a small scar over his left eye. Hammer, a white stallion with a blue mane, received the worse of injuries, and had a bandage over his left shoulder. It would be awhile before he could properly fight, but he was strong, and she would need them both to find their lost officer.
“Captain Silverwing! Captain Silverwing!” She heard a voice and she turned to meet a purple earth pony who wore small bits of armor, designating him as part of the Prance militia.
“Yes, Shadow Hunter, what is is?” she asked the stallion as he gave a small salute.
“We found a body near the edge of a nearby hill. It’s a griffon, and he’s riddled with bolts. We also spotted multiple tracks of a large host and from how long the tracks have been I’d say that they left at least an hour ago.”
Silverwing eyed Shadow Hunter with hopeful optimism yet also with concern.This was the twentieth body they found, executed in the same manner as a few previous ones. She shuddered at the thought of some of the other bodies that they found, brutally mutilated with missing claws or limbs. She wasn’t sure about the connection, but it was certainly tied to this group of griffons. It was slim, but there was maybe a chance that Quicksilver was still alive.
“Do you know what direction they might have taken?” she asked. Shadow hunter lowered his ears and looked away from her, which made her hope fade and her worry begin to rise.“Judging from the tracks, I say that they are heading toward High Talon Mountains,” he finally said as Silverwing took it all in. The mountains were a barrier between the nation of Prance and the Griffon territory. Her mind began processing the details of what the griffons might do to him. Equestrian forces were spread thin as it was, and she would only have her soldiers to help her out. If the griffons passed over the mountains then it would already be too late. She turned her head, contemplating the situation.
“There is some good news. A storm is brewing over the mountains, and if it slows their progress there might be a chance that we can retrieve Lieutenant Quicksilver,” he said as he moved to Silverwing’s side. She lifted her head with a pleased look. Turning to Shadow Hunter and placing a hoof on his shoulder, she relayed her order.
“Gather the others. We make for High Talon mountains.” Shadow Hunter saluted and ran to gather the rest of the squad. She whirled her head around and yelled out another order. “Heavy Blitz! Crimson Wing! Gather a few other pegasus and gather supplies at the city, we’re going to have a long trip ahead of us.
“Yes, Captain!” They both saluted and headed off. Seeing this, both Hammer and Anvil, walked up to their leader.
“We’re heading toward the mountains, Captain?” Anvil asked as he looked at the peaks in the far distance.
“Yes,” she replied and Hammer moved forward to her side.
“Captain, even with our forces and supplies, it will take us at least three weeks to reach the mountains, and even longer if the storm slows our progress.” He did have good points but Silverwing knew in her heart that if that happened that would increase their chances of getting to Quicksilver. She raised a hoof and placed it on Hammer’s good shoulder.
“If that happens then the griffons would be forced to stop as well, giving us the chance to reach him sooner. Now both of you get ready. Once the extra supplies come, we’ll leave when the sun is at its highest.” She released her hold and both nodded. She watched as both left her, Anvil nudging Hammer and the latter blushing at his friend’s chatter. She could only leave a small smile for him as she turned her gaze back toward the mountains in the distance. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply and a single thought went through her mind.
Hold on little brother, your big sister’s coming for you.
****
Quicksilver was in the sky, his wings spread wide. The rush of the cool air brushed past him as he soared. His mane went wild as he turned and twisted, but his movements were graceful. He made aerial maneuvers that he had perfected over the years, gliding in an elegant dance; he was confident in his ability that he wouldn’t make a mistake in his flight. As he moved through the open air, the sky was a beautiful blue, while down below on the grasslands, the tall, vibrant, green grass danced in the winds, creating a beautiful wave-like motion. He imagined this would last forever, his wings flying in the heavenly abyss.
Yet, all dreams must come to an end.
His dream-like world had started to transform. The blue skies turned a vicious red and the grassland changed into a rough and destitute land; the very ground looked like a battlefield, with hundreds if not thousands of dead soldiers, and he could hear their agonizing cries, their voices sounding of death, calling out his name. Panic coursed through his body, and he tried flapping away, but his wings wouldn’t respond, and instead, he experienced agonizing pain. He felt as if icicles penetrated into every joint of his body. He began falling rapidly, his wings beating fast in a desperate attempt to stay airborne. He called out for somepony, anypony that could help. He heard nothing but his own voice as he continued to fall. He turned to try and glide his way in toward the grass and lessen the impact, but felt a strong pull on his other wing and he was not in a freefall and the ground was nearing ever closer. Before he hit the ground, everything turned white
Quicksilver opened his eyes and saw a patch of snow upon the ground as his jailer descended, letting his constricted body go at the last second. He hit the ground hard, his body rolling in the soft slush, coming to a stop several feet from the impact. He cringed and seethed through his teeth, and he held his sides in pain. His left wing flopped to the side. He barely felt it anymore, and he wondered if his left wing was even worth saving. Snow and wind blew around them, and it smacked into his face when he tried to open his eyes. When he eventually looked up, he saw the griffon hovering over him.
“Get up you scum!” His jailer forced him back on his hoofs. Quicksilver, his hoofs having fell asleep, winced slightly as he painfully moved forward. It had been two days since they left the city, five days since his capture, and he had experienced at least three painful landfalls due to the callous griffon that carried him. Despite two days of harsh mistreatment--during one event, they toyed with him by dropping him mid-air, then caught him before he hit the ground--he still hung on. Although he tried to show, he was apprehensive, and his unease heightened as he thought about what they had done days prior and what they might do to him later. He could only imagine his life would end the moment they regrouped. Behind him, he heard several griffons land, some gasping for breath.
“We’re not going no further... Till we have a breather!” a griffon scout heaved as he tried to steady himself.
“We’ve been flying for nearly two straight days! My wings are burning,” another griffon complained off to the side.
“We can’t go on like this! The storm is picking up!” another griffon called out as several more followed onto the descent.
“We must keep moving… the camp should be close, I know it!” Sharp Beak yelled, keeping his subordinates in line. Quicksilver looked around and saw that the colonel was right. They were already on the mountains of High Talon. All around him he saw nothing but peaks that reached high into the skies, and at least half a mile away he could see the flat plains of the grasslands. They were pushing hard to arrive, barely taking breaks and resting only several hours at a time. He could feel his stomach growl in protest. Since his capture, they had given him little food and water. His only meal had been a half loaf of bread since the whole trip began. He swallowed a lump in his parched throat, and he licked his chapped lips. He felt so weak, so very weak. He wanted to rest again, wanted to escape to his waiting dreams, but he was jostled up when his jailor kicked the back of his legs, then forcibly seized his neck to the point of almost choking. His jailor then shoved him forward, making him walk through the heavy snow that that went above his knees.
“We make for the camp! It should be close by! No flying. The wind and snow is getting stronger,” Sharp Beak called out as he began moving forward. The rest of the griffons followed, albeit at a slow pace. Quicksilver still felt numbing pain in his legs, and his left wing dragged behind him. For the next several minutes snow and wind whipped around them, obscuring his vision. He didn’t know where he was going, only marching onward through this storm. Around him he saw the weariness of some of the griffons. Some were so tired that they bumped into each other or nearly collapsed onto the snow in front of them. Wherever they were headed he only hoped they arrived soon.
Nearly a half hour passed as they trekked along the beaten path, the snow clinging to their bodies. Quicksilver heaved with each breath, his strength already spent and his body had no energy to give. He trudged through the snow, his stomach protesting for want of food. He kept his mind on the road ahead, his eyes lazily looking around. However, he regretfully didn’t see the small slope in front of him. Quicksilver slipped and tumbled down the small incline, landing hard onto the snow in front of him. His body ached, and he felt numb as the wind and snow began to pick up around him. His eyes were closing, wanting so much to return to sleep, but he would not get such respite.
“Hey! Somegryphon get that pony. If he can’t stand, then carry his sorry carcass!” he could hear Sharp Beak call out. He cracked an eye open and saw two griffons coming to his side. He felt his arms being raised and wrapped around their necks, each griffon holding onto him as he was dragged across the snow. He could hear their ragged breaths as they pressed on yet they didn’t seem to be bothered when carrying him; he was at least grateful that it was not the jailor, otherwise he’d be forced on his hooves.
He could barely see anything other then them hugging the side of the mountain. The wind was howling around them never ending, almost threatening to blow them all off the mountain. In his heart he could only pray that somehow, someway, he’d be able to make it out of this.
As soon as he thought of it, the very moment he believed in it, the wind and snow had slowed.
He opened his eyes, wondering what had happened. After their group turned a corner the wind and snow had stopped significantly, and on the side of the mountain were a line of torches. He heard many voices ahead as they walked down an enclosed pathway, where a bright light shone in the distance. He felt disoriented due to the close enclosure that he almost felt the walls were closing in on him. His eyes closed once again, as he felt himself being dragged further into this mysterious place. A few minutes passed and the voices grew closer, and were more numerous. Once the blinding light was bearable he was able to crack one of his eyes.
What he saw next took his breath away.
They were inside the mountain, where many tents and small buildings were scattered around a vast open cave. Light snow drifted downward through a hole in the ceiling, but he didn’t understand if it was made by griffons or if it was there by nature. Whatever the case, several griffons came in and out of it. As far as he could see, the whole area of the cave was a massive camp, with many tents surrounding the center, near a large campfire. Hundreds of griffons were scattered around the encampment, each armed for war. Many had wore different suits of armor and some had different insignias adorning their plate mail. Some carried halberds, some longswords, while a few others held crossbows within their claws. Many tended and cared for their group’s exhausted and weary.
Conversations were everywhere, too many to follow all at once. He really didn’t care, as long as Sharp Beak kept his beak shut. His two carriers left him then took a few paces behind him. He remained where he was, sitting on his haunches and his wings hanging from his sides, only staring at the ground. He could tell that many eyes were upon him, as he heard the soft whispers from the nearby griffons. He swallowed, his dry throat parched. He cast his gaze slightly to the right and saw many griffons brandishing their weapons, while others gave him cold death stares. To the left, were collapsed griffons, the very ones that accompanied him during this flight. Several of the white headed griffons began treating them and a couple had to be dragged away from exhaustion. He looked forward at the ground, not paying attention to any of them, and he had a feeling that he was going to be executed at any moment.
The sound of talons approached him, and every griffon became eerily quiet. The claws scraped the floor, getting closer, ever nearer. Sweat poured down his head, uncertainty gripped his heart at the approaching noise. A few more steps and the claws stopped with a loud thud. His heart skipped a beat. He noticed two large claws in his vision, and they were very close.
Taking a shaky breath, likely to be his last, he looked up to see a large griffon standing before him. His eyes widened. The griffon was huge.
Unlike the other griffons he’d seen, this one was not only larger, but he had more pristine feathers--Instead of the normal brown feathers that most griffons had this one was feathers were pure white. He had a coat of brown and deep red feathers around his golden eyes and on the tips of his feathers. He was both fearsome but striking to say the least. Quicksilver’s expression remained stoic as several other griffons began to circle him. He could see a few of them bearing the same white feathers around their upper necks and legs while bearing different colors on the tips of their feathers. He could only wonder what kind of griffons they were.
“I am Ebon Jager, captain of the royal gryphons stationed here.” Quicksilver looked at him with a blank stare, giving no response. “You are here because we allowed you to be here. You may be a prisoner of Colonel Sharp Beak, but you will be under our care during the duration of your stay. You are now under our watchful eye, equine, and you will remain as such till the end of your days,” Ebon said speaking in complete candor. Quicksilver leaned his head down and he didn’t respond, opting to remain silent, as a prisoner should do.
“Insolent equine! Acknowledge him!” A griffon approached him, drawing a sword halfway. Quicksilver turned his gaze at the next griffon, inspecting the bird of prey. This griffon had the same white features as Ebon, but had a deep blue around his eyes and feathers, he also had a scar that ran down his left eye, traced from the top of his skull all the way down to the side of his beak. Quicksilver remained staring, saying nothing. The griffon spat at him and Quicksilver barely flinched. The griffon eyed him for a moment and turned to walk away. However, he quickly drew his blade and swung, barely stopping as it touched his neck. The blade was inches from his neck, the cold touch barely grazing him. Quicksilver remained where he was, not even granting any sign of emotion or weakness. The griffon narrowed his eyes and slid his blade slowly across Quicksilver’s neck, a small cut appearing on the tip of his flesh from the blade’s edge, but not deep enough to bleed.
“Deadeye. That is enough.” Ebon spoke calm but with a commanding tone. Deadeye, as he was called, lifted his sword away and sheathed it in his scabbard. He remained standing, still staring down at Quicksilver. The pegasus knew that this griffon wasn't just a soldier, he was a highly disciplined and a fierce warrior, and he would kill him without question.
“You are brave, I’ll give you that much,” Ebon said.
“However,” he continued, “bravery will only get you so far. You’re deep within High Talon Mountains and winter has come. You, cannot, escape,” Ebon said, his message clear. Quicksilver remained ever silent, so quiet he felt like he was in a crypt. In a way, he felt like he was already a dead equine the moment he sat a hoof in this place and the griffons were the carrion birds ready to feast on his corpse at a moment's notice. With a final harrumph the griffon leader turned and left him, most likely to tend to the new arrivals. Quicksilver didn’t pay attention. He only had the strength to stand and listen to him speak. He then promptly fell to his side, his body giving in to want of sleep and lack of energy. He closed his eyes and heard the griffons speak about him.
He didn’t care. His awaiting dreams would be his only reprieve.