The Age of Wings and Steel

by DSNesmith

34. The Chains of Command

Whitewall had filled with the ringing of hammers. The blows echoed from the walls, an orchestra of metal playing a steely symphony. Windstreak watched from the keep window, listening. “Music fit for the times, Bergeron.”

“Indeed, Captain.” Her lieutenant stepped back from the window. “One of our scouts has returned. He says we have four days before the griffons arrive, but the dragon may be here a day sooner.”

Still looking out at the limestone walls, Windstreak nodded slowly. “Three days. That’s enough time. We’ll be ready.”

“Do you really think this is going to work?”

Windstreak looked at Bergeron. “Are you serious? I have no idea. But I can’t think of a better plan.”

“Nor I.” Still, Bergeron didn’t look happy. “But are you sure it was wise to melt down the spears and swords? We might need them when the main force arrives.”

“Bergeron, without that steel we won’t survive the dragon’s first attack. We can hold this city against a normal army for weeks, even without those spears and hoof-maces. The dragon is the most dangerous threat.”

The lieutenant shrugged. “I suppose if we do pull this off, a few thousand griffons won’t look very dangerous.”

“I want to tour the smithies.”

“Again? I think you’re beginning to annoy the blacksmiths.”

“I’m a general, remember? I’m entitled to annoy.”

Bergeron chuckled. “That you are, Captain.”

* * *

They entered the first smithy a short time later, feeling the heat of the forge roll over them. Beside the forge lay a vast coil of chain, each link almost a meter long. After five days of forging, the chains had grown to considerable length. Windstreak did the math in her head. Three days from now, they would have nearly a dozen chains, each a hundred meters long, light and sturdy as Easthill’s steel was famed for.

The smith paused in his labor, looking up from the latest link that still glowed with the heat of the forge. “General! Hadn’t expected to see you again so soon. It’s coming along.” He nodded to the coil of chain. “This is the best steel I’ve ever worked with, but I’m not sure that even it will be strong enough.”

“We have the archmage working on that as we speak,” said Windstreak. “He’ll be sending a mage by sometime today. They’ll enchant the chain with as many strengthening spells as they can.”

The smith nodded and began pounding away at the metal once more. Windstreak watched for a moment, and then took her leave. Bergeron followed her out into the street. The sound of hammers all around was deafening.

“Bergeron, how are the pegasi teams doing?”

“They’ve been running the drills you laid out. The Firewings are performing admirably, of course,” Bergeron raised his head slightly. “The pegasi from Weatherforge are doing their best, but they’re used to working with clouds, not metal.”

“They’ll have to be stronger. We can’t do this without them.”

“They will be, Captain. Don’t worry.”

Windstreak shook her head. “All I do these days is worry.” She looked above to the southern sky. It was clear and sparkling blue, but all she could see was a giant green dragon swooping from the skies streaming fire from its jaws. She shivered.

“Look, Captain. It’s the Duke.”

Tymeo approached the Firewings, waving a hoof in greeting. “General! A moment, if you would.”

Windstreak turned as the young duke trotted up. “Yes, Duke Bellemont?”

“Good news, for a change. We’ve completed the evacuation. All the civilians have left, and should be well away by the time the griffons arrive.”

“Well,” said Windstreak with a tired smile, “At least there’s that.” Her smile died. “Although I’m not sure Canterlot will be much safer than Whitewall in the coming months.”

“Ah…” Tymeo looked crestfallen. Windstreak silently cursed herself. The young duke needed encouragement and motivation. She couldn’t afford to have him crack under pressure right before the coming battle.

“But they’re safe for now, and that’s what counts.” She smiled again. Tymeo nodded soberly. “The chains are coming along. We’ll be ready by the time they arrive.”

“I’m still waiting on any replies to our request for help. Baron Aubren is still in Easthill, but the troops he sent with the steel should help. No word yet from Canterlot, Greenhaven, or Norharren.”

Windstreak stifled a snort. “You sent a letter to Blueblood?”

“It couldn’t hurt.”

“I suppose not.” Windstreak puffed a strand of orange hair out of her eyes. “But I wouldn’t hold my breath.”

“Speaking of which,” said Bergeron, “We should check in with Wheatie. I’d like to have at least a reasonable expectation of this insane plan working.”

“Will there be anything else, Duke Bellemont?”

Tymeo shook his head. “I’ll let you return to your duties, General. Sisters smile upon us all.”

* * *

They found Wheatie above the lake, hovering in the air. A rope dangled from his mouth, the other end looped in coils and held by two other pegasi. The rope vanished into the milky water. The line played out, slipping deeper and deeper.

“Well, Wheatie?” Windstreak fluttered next to him, looking curiously down at the surface of the lake.
Wheatie wrapped the rope around his hoof to free his mouth. “Two hundred meters, and we still haven’t hit bottom. We don’t have any rope longer than this, Captain.”

Windstreak’s eyebrows rose. “I think two hundred meters will be enough.” She shook her head in amazement. “This might actually work.”

“And what if it doesn’t?” asked Wheatie, nervously.

“Then we use conventional tactics.”

Bergeron snorted. “You mean, ‘get roasted and eaten by a giant dragon.’”

“Essentially.”

The three Firewings flapped their wings, staring down at the lake. “Four days,” said Windstreak. “Four days, and it’ll be over.”

Bergeron let out a harsh laugh. “It’s never over.”

* * *

Four days. Infuriating. I could be there in two. Viera circled high above the forest, looking down at the treetops below. The leaves blocked the griffon army from view, but dragons could see slightly in the infrared, and she could perceive the mass of warm bodies moving north.

The griffons were, as ever, slow. For creatures with wings, they moved like cattle. And anything that resembled cattle was prey. Viera’s eyes narrowed. She would tolerate them in exchange for the riches of Whitewall. She looked forward to spending days picking through the city’s archives to find the choicest enchanted artifacts and magical scrolls.

After she wiped out the last of the ponies, of course. A lesser dragon might have pitied them. They were no match for Viera; their greatest warriors and mages posed no threat. It was not ego, but simple fact. She would reduce the city to rubble, and burn the defenders to ash. It would be far easier than fighting the larger dragons in Wyrmgand. In this soft land, she was the apex predator.

And yet she found herself taking orders from beings infinitely her lesser. She growled. This Major Gableclaw was an arrogant lout. She found herself missing the General, who was by comparison urbane and properly respectful. But this stupidity had lasted long enough. Viera tilted forward, going into a dive toward the front of the army below.

She smashed through the canopy, flattening a pair of trees and crushing them into splinters. She landed with a thud that sent waves through the ground. Before her, the griffons recoiled and trembled. Viera leaned in close, enjoying their fear. “Bring me Gableclaw,” she crooned. “I would speak with him.”

A wiry griffon pushed his way through the crowd, fuming. He roared as he approached. “You answer to me, dragon, not the other way around.”

“Of course, Major.” Viera sneered. The griffon stood defiantly below her, his wings unfurled and his tail raised high. He was a laughable creature. “Tell me, Gableclaw, is this the fastest that your army can march?”

“If we push harder than this, we’ll be in no shape to fight the ponies of Whitewall when we arrive.”

“Then I fear this is where I take my leave. I will be going on ahead, Major, and when you finally reach Whitewall, I’ll be there to open the gates for you. If the gates are still standing.”

“By the authority granted to me by General Shrikefeather himself, I order you to—”

This time, Viera couldn’t contain her mirth. She let out a blast of smoke as she laughed, covering the griffons. “Authority? Words and ranks are meaningless, griffon.” She held up a talon large enough to gut a buffalo. “This is authority.” She turned contemptuously away, flapping her wings in readiness to leave.

Behind her, the griffon shouted. “Remember, dragon! Kill the leader of the golden pegasi. Then you will earn your reward!”

As if he could keep her from her prize. “As you wish,” she said, taking off. She soared into the air, leaving behind the irate, but powerless griffon. She narrowed her eyes and flew for the horizon.

The archive of Whitewall. All mine, soon enough. She could still smell the ashes on the wind from the burning plains. A good omen. Viera smiled.

Comments

[NeonEclipse]

YOU MADE IT TO FEATURED!!!!

[matangadijolachanga]

read it all amazing work man amazing , so they will kill the dragon hmm, will it be by choking her whit chains or whit a vacuum(you know casted by the Pegasus), any ways i hope you bring more chapters soon.

[matangadijolachanga]

by the way i cant help but think of Rye, or what ever he is called, as nothing but a hobbit. was that the impression you wanted to cause?, i think it's brilliant.... yep this filled whit lord of rings drama the more i look at it the only thing it is missing is some villain like the big eye at the top of the tower.... anyways like like like this is pure gold

[PonyholicsAnonymous]

Glad to see I was wrong about this fic never updating, and right about it being amazing. Keep up the outstanding work

[Cedric Bale]

So they're going to try to drown Viera? Probably a better idea than trying to stab her to death. xD

[Magnum Hocus]

HA I KNEW IT!
Cant wait for Viera to get whats coming to her.

[Thread Necromancer]

Plan: Use the metal in the archives to create additional armor and weapons for the Firewings. Result: The dragon will blame the Griffons for the disappearance of the riches, The dragon will then turn on the griffons and kill quite a few out of anger.

[PaulAsaran]

Well, so much for four days. I was wondering when one of the dragons would tire of taking orders from creatures they could kill just by walking on them.

Windstreak's plan isn't exactly what I expected, but pretty close. We shall see if what chains are available will be enough. I expect they will be.

I also expect casualties to be high.