The Age of Wings and Steel

by DSNesmith

16. The Game Begins

Windstreak flew through the air, high above the river. Her Firewings and the Cloudsdale pegasi under her charge were busy at work, filling the skies. She had ordered them to gather as many clouds as they could. They were creating rainstorms, and sending them south to disrupt the griffons’ troop movements. It was a large effort for a small payoff, but the ponies needed every advantage they could get in the coming battle. Though Westermin had finally arrived the day before, the griffons still vastly outnumbered them.

The griffons had been sending raiding groups to harass the defenders. On their first attack, they had tried to fly around the ponies and take them from behind. They hadn’t expected the Firewings—the attack was quickly repulsed, and many of the griffons were killed in the subsequent fight. But they’d been sending more and more, wearing away at the stamina of the pegasi and whittling their numbers down. Every pony they lost was irreplaceable, but for every griffon they killed, there were three to take its place.

With the addition of Westermin’s troops, Celerity’s army had reached nearly forty-four hundred fighting ponies, all prepared to defend the bridge at the cost of their lives. The Duchess had been everywhere, walking among her soldiers to boost their morale and to make sure her troops were ready for the coming battle. Windstreak was impressed, despite herself—the unicorn loved her people dearly, and would fight to defend them.

Windstreak hovered, looking north. In the distance, Whitetail forest blanketed the horizon, and somewhere beyond that lay Canterlot. Apricot would be opening the store in an hour, flipping over the sign and letting in the customers. She could almost smell the bread baking in the ovens, and hear her husband’s fussing as he prepared each pastry for sale. She missed him terribly.

And then there was Rye, sent far to the north on a dangerous quest at the behalf of the Princess. Windstreak had been furious, and then terrified, when Celestia had told her about Rye’s encounter with the griffons in the forest. “I knew I shouldn’t have let him wander in there…”

“Don’t blame yourself, ma’am.” Her lieutenant had flown up behind her without making a noise.

“Bergeron! I thought I told you not to do that.”

“Sorry, ma’am.” He didn’t look very sorry, giving her a cheeky grin. It faded, and he said “But I’m serious, Captain. Don’t dwell on it. He’ll be fine.”

Windstreak had told no one else about her son’s mission. All the rest of the Firewings simply knew that Celestia had sent messengers to the north to ask for aid; they didn’t know that it was their captain’s only son.

She had kept her personal life very private from the rest of the Firewings. Most of the longer-serving members had met her husband Apricot, but very few of them knew her son personally. Even the Princess hadn’t seen him since he was a tiny foal, only a few months old. No wonder she hadn’t recognized him when they met.

She’d intentionally said little about him, except to her closest brothers-and-sisters-in-arms. Pegacorns were shunned, considered mutants and aberrations, and she’d wanted to spare Rye as much of that as possible. Perhaps too much. Had she and Apricot smothered him? Prevented him from living in a vain attempt to protect him from the pain of a world that had never understood his kind? Maybe that was why he’d galloped off on this crazy journey to Sleipnord.

Oh, Rye, I’m so sorry. We never wanted this for you.

Eight years ago, she, Bergeron, and another Firewing named Inger had defended the town of Trottingham from an attack by the mountain trolls. During that desperate fight, Windstreak met a young baker pony, Apricot Strudel. He’d been scared, as they all had been, but he’d offered up his bakery as a safehouse for the townsponies. In the last night of the attack, as they had all waited to die, Windstreak and Apricot had talked to each other to take their thoughts away from their impending doom. He’d been quiet and calm, with a kindness in his soul that struck a deep resonance within her.

They survived the night, thanks to the efforts of Bergeron and the rest of the ‘Wings, and Windstreak offered to stay behind for a while to help rebuild the town. The marshal had agreed, and so for three months Windstreak found herself living outside the military for the first time in her life. She and Apricot hadn’t fallen in love instantly—it had taken at least a day. Together, they helped Trottingham get back on its hooves, and after three months the town was as good as new. On the last night of her leave, she and Apricot had sat out under the stars, looking up at them together. She’d struggled to say goodbye, trying desperately to find the right words. But when she opened her mouth, what spilled out instead was:

“Will you marry me?”

Apricot had laughed and kissed her. Their wedding was held two months later, in the capital of Canterlot. The Princess herself had presided, clearly delighted for her personal guardpony. Windstreak had continued to serve in the Firewings, and Apricot moved to the capital to open his own bakery. She lived there with him, completely satisfied.

The day she’d discovered she was pregnant with Rye had been the happiest of her life. The months had passed like seconds, and before she had even become accustomed to the idea of motherhood, she and Apricot were parents of a tiny, newborn colt. But what should have been the most beautiful day of all was soon darkened by tragedy.

The new parents sat and listened quietly as the midwife explained their son’s condition. Normally, when a pony was born to a couple of mixed species, the union would result in one or the other—a pegasus or a unicorn, or more commonly an earth pony. But their son, through some genetic fluke, had both wings and a horn. He was a pegacorn, one of the rarest breed of pony, and one of the most reviled. They were sickly, undersized foals, and rarely made it to adulthood. If, against the odds, they survived, pegacorns were the embodiment of every insecurity and jealousy a pony could have. The nursepony held little hope that Rye would live through the year.

Apricot had held her as she cried for their son, devastated by the realization that everything had changed. They swore to each other that they would do everything they could to help their little Rye, knowing that their lives would never be the same.

As the little foal had struggled to take his first steps, Windstreak cooed encouragements. “Come on, Rye, you can do it!” The little colt had walked unsteadily across the room, supported by his parents. He flapped his tiny wings, and Windstreak had kissed his horn. Tears of joy and sorrow ran down her face, and she’d told the little foal: “I’ll always be here for you, Rye. Always. I promise.”

But now he was gone. And she was hundreds of miles away, unable to see him, unable to be there for him. She blinked, her eyes watery. Bergeron had hovered beside her, unwilling to disturb her reflection. He looked over his shoulder to the south, and breathed sharply. “Captain Windstreak!”

Her reverie broken, Windstreak whipped around. “What?”

“To the south! Look!” He pointed a hoof. The horizon, bare just minutes before, was rapidly filling with a black line. As the Firewings watched, the line grew and grew until it covered the edge of the land as far east and west as the naked eye could see. The griffons had finally arrived.

Windstreak’s face hardened. “Signal the alert. Get the Cloudsdale pegasi ready to defend the airspace. I’ll make sure that the line at the bridge is ready.” They snapped salutes at each other and flew off, beating their wings furiously.

She landed in front of Celerity’s tent, bursting inside. “Duchess! The griffons are here! We need to prepare the bridge!”

The duchess was in the process of putting on her armor. Already she was covered in mail, shiny and polished to perfection. She did not turn around. “Have the Westermin ponies take the line. I want two shieldponies in front of every spear.” Her horn glowed as the last piece of her armor, the helmet, lifted into the air. “Are the air forces ready?”

“Yes. We’ll keep the skies clear.”

“Excellent.” The helmet descended slowly over Celerity’s head, her horn fitting snugly through a hole cut in the helmet’s forehead. She turned her head to look at Windstreak with one eye. “Today we’ll give them a fight they will never forget.”

* * *

The bridge was filled from side to side. The long line of ponies stood firm, their shields and spears held ready to defend it. The front line had their shields mounted on their sides, crouched sideways to present them to the enemy. Behind them, the spearponies had their weapons gripped firmly in their teeth.

Without opposable claws like the dragons or the griffons, the ponies had been forced to be inventive about their weaponry. Behind the spearponies were the main fighters of the army, armed with the old standby weapon of Equestria: the hoof-mace. It was as simple as it was deadly; a heavy weight worn like a horseshoe, firmly secured and molded around their hooves. It was flattened on the bottom, with sharp edges to bring maximum crushing power down on anything unlucky enough to be in its way.

The unicorns wore no weapons and had little armor. Their greatest asset was their magic, and a few well-placed spells could turn the tide of a battle. The pegasi had to stay light, and so wore no armor—except for the Firewings, whose gold-laced raiment gleamed in the sun. They would fight tooth and hoof against the griffons in the sky, turning the weather against their foes and making sure the griffons could not surround the ponies on the ground.

But the griffons were many, and the ponies few. General Shrikefeather took to the air with his lieutenant, staring out over the battlefield. “It’s a good plan. Whoever leads them is no fool.” He flicked his tail. “We’ll take it nonetheless.”

“Sir, we could clear that line with our siege weaponry. We wouldn’t have to risk any of our troops.”

“We cannot risk damaging the bridge. We’ll test their strength at the line. Tell the infantry to advance.” His eyes narrowed in anticipation. “It looks like we’ll have a proper fight after all.”

* * *

The vast horde of griffons reached the river at noon. At some unseen signal, they raised their weapons. They began banging their swords and spears against their shields. Roaring and beating out a marching rhythm, the griffons sent up a war chant across the river, a cacophony of noise and bloodlust that sent chills into the hearts of the ponies. Duchess Belle, riding between the line at the bridge and those arrayed along the shores, shouted over the din. “Remain steadfast, soldiers of Whitetail! Fear no enemy! Hold your ground!” The ponies stood firm.

The first attack came from the air. The griffons lifted off, soaring through the air like harpies after blood, filling the skies with feathers and steel. The Firewings and Cloudsdale pegasi flew to meet them. The two great forces clashed in the sky, in a whirlwind of combat that rapidly degenerated into an airborne brawl.

Windstreak smashed her hooves into the face of a griffon, crushing its beak and sending it flying backwards. The griffon fell from the sky, down toward the river below. The Firewings fought like madponies, breaking through the griffons’ defenses and killing dozens by themselves. The Cloudsdale ponies darted through the sky, disturbing the air currents and disrupting the griffon’s flying ability. Where there might be a rush of hot air to lift a griffon, suddenly there was a cold wind from the backblast of a pegasus’s flight that sent them plummeting downward.

The griffons in turn fought fiercely, raking their battleclaws into the ponies. The unarmored Cloudsdale ponies did their best, but against the weapons of the griffons they were nearly defenseless. The battle raged on, and blood rained down from the sky with the corpses of the fallen.

Below, the bridge had turned into a killing ground. The griffons surged onto the structure, crashing against the line of Westermin ponies. The griffons were testing the line for strength, sending in their poorly armored spear-fodder first. The griffons smashed into the line of shieldponies, who instantly stalled their advance. Behind them, the ponies shoved their spears into the gap, ravaging the griffon shock troops. The griffon war cry was replaced by screams and hoarse cries as they fell, pierced by the spears of the Equestrians.

The bridge was raised in the middle, allowing the blood to flow down either side. Soon, the stones were slick with the gore of the dying griffons. The avians pulled back, their first push thwarted. Above, the aerial battle had reached a fever pitch. Windstreak was in the thick of it, flying into combat with any griffon she saw. Though the griffons were many, the Firewings were more than a match for any of them in single combat. The day dragged on, and more and more of the griffons fell to their hooves.

The battle lasted for over three hours. No pony could fight that long without becoming utterly exhausted, but Celerity replaced the ponies at the bridge line with fresh troops every twenty minutes. The griffons tried again and again to breach their line, but those that tried to push through the shields were crushed, and those who tried to fly over them were pierced on the sharp spear-points of the ponies in the middle of the line.

The griffons pulled back near three ‘o clock to lick their wounds and plan the next assault. In the sky, the air raiders broke away from the fight, retreating south over the river. Windstreak ordered her troops to let them go; they couldn’t risk pursuing them over the griffon army. The pegasi descended to the ground to rest their aching wings and recover from the fierce battle. Windstreak sought out Duchess Belle, finding her at last at the rear of the bridge, overseeing the latest change in the line.

“Duchess!” Windstreak landed heavily in front of her, letting her wings hang limply at her sides. Her once-shiny armor was now grimy, splattered with blood and sweat. A griffon had gotten in a lucky hit, scoring a slash across her breastplate. There was a jagged gash through the symbol of the Sun. “Their aerial forces have pulled back. The skies are clear, for the moment.”

“Excellent work, Captain.” Duchess Belle looked tired, but pleased. “We’ve held the bridge and the skies against their assaults. It will be some time before they try again. Are you wounded?”

Windstreak shook her head. “Not seriously.”

“Then get some rest. You’ll need it for tomorrow.” The Duchess turned away. “Leeroy! I want those reinforcements brought up to the front of the line! Get to it!”

The Firewing captain walked away, giving her wings a rest. From above, Bergeron appeared, landing beside her. “Captain! Thank the Sisters you’re all right.” They smiled at each other, relieved to see they were both unharmed.

“Report, Bergeron. How many did we lose?”

“Miraculously few, considering. Perhaps three score from Cloudsdale have fallen. And… I’m sorry, Captain. Miles was killed. He flew down to save a pegasus in distress, and got hit from behind by one of the raiders.”

Windstreak accepted the news quietly. “But no others?”

“All of the rest of the Firewings are still fit for fighting, ma’am. Ingrid has a mild concussion from getting banged on the helmet, but no others have reported serious injuries.”

“Let us hope that tomorrow’s battle goes as well.”

“I’ll see you in the morning, then. We’re running search and rescue for any pegasi that fell during the battle. Some of them may have survived.”

“Thank you, Bergeron. Good luck.”

“To you as well, Captain.” He saluted and flew off. Windstreak walked in the direction of the Firewings’ tents, determined to get some sleep before the fighting resumed.

* * *

General Shrikefeather listened with displeasure to the after-action report. “It seems they were better prepared than our scouts suggested.”

“Sir, it’s those pegasi in the golden armor. There are only a few hundred of them, but they fight like Krishnika.”

“They’re not demons, lieutenant. Just very good soldiers. Celestia’s elite guard, if I’m not mistaken.” He scowled. “I rarely am.” He flicked his talons idly, thinking. “We need to control the air if we’re to take this bridge on schedule. I want every attack squadron we have marshaled by tonight. We’ll attack at dawn. Send Captain Withers to me, I’ll need to brief him personally. Are the maulers prepared?”

“They just arrived on the field this morning, sir. They’ll be fit for combat tomorrow.”

“Good. If Withers does his job right, we’ll have the opening we need. They were swapping out the line every twenty minutes. If they keep that pattern tomorrow, we’ll exploit it. Once we break that line, the ponies will be forced to retreat. We’ll chase them into the northlands and crush them.” He snapped his claw shut.

“Very good, sir.”

“Before you go, Colonel, tell me. Have the scouts learned who leads the army?” He hadn’t seen Celestia on the field today, which meant she was likely far away in the capital. That was for the best—he wasn’t looking forward to fighting the god-queen, not yet, not so early in his campaign.

“A unicorn. The Duchess Celerity Belle.”

“Celerity? Of course, I should have expected as much.” He tapped a talon on the ground. “She’s been a thorn in my side for the last twenty years. It’s thanks to her that our raids were never able to take Sel-Paloth. I’ll look forward to killing her… personally. Give the order that she is to be left to me. I want to see the look on her face when we march into the plains over the bodies of her troops.”

Comments

[DSNesmith]

I'm doing some rewrites of the first four chapters. Don't worry if you've already read them, I'm not changing any important details, but I feel that the current quality of these chapters does not match the later ones. I'll be changing them on here first (since I can do the individual chapters) and updating the EQD version later.

Again, don't bother re-reading them for any new information, I'm just touching up the prose.

[Steben]

619574 Heh, a little late... finally sat down and re-read everything. I was a bit disappointed since with all the recent posts it looked like there would be new chapters. Hopefully we get to see something new after the revisions. (If i'm not mistaken there's a couple more chapters to go before fimfiction is up to date with eqd)

Thanks for putting this up on fimfiction!

[Zervziel]

"The griffon war cry was replaced by screams and hoarse cries as they fell, pierced by the spears of the Equestrians."

Is it bad if I snickered at that?

[PaulAsaran]

This opener feels like it's repeating a lot of what we already know... And extremely extrapolative. This seems to be a common and rather big problem with this story. In the case of Windstreak reminiscing on raising Rye, I think you should have gone with your usual flashback method. Yes, I've been critical about them and I stand by that criticism, but at least then there would have been consistency.

Curious, I rather thought Shrikefeather would want to keep Celerity alive for breaking. A villain such as he would surely find that infinitely more entertaining. No matter, I'm absolutely certain he'll get his claws on her eventually... unless she does something to ensure she dies instead of getting captured. One way or another, she won't be a factor anymore once this battle is over.

I also note that Shrikefeather fears Celestia, which only goes to show that if she did show up like she was supposed to then this entire fight probably would be going in a completely different direction. I swear, that pony has no real concept of leadership...

[Golden Fang Ryu Shenron]

“Celerity? Of course, I should have expected as much.” He tapped a talon on the ground. “She’s been a thorn in my side for the last twenty years. It’s thanks to her that our raids were never able to take Sel-Paloth. I’ll look forward to killing her… personally. Give the order that she is to be left to me. I want to see the look on her face when we march into the plains over the bodies of her troops.”

Oh boy... that’s not good...

[Noobblue]

“All of the rest of the Firewings are still fit for fighting, ma’am. Ingrid has a mild concussion from getting banged on the helmet, but no others have reported serious injuries.”

Ingrid? Uh oh