Tower of the West

by Lasairfion

He that scatters thorns

Wrath stood in the narrow hallway and thanked the mule for his time. Opening the heavy door with his telekenesis, he slipped out into the stifling heat and trotted off to complete some needed errands, trying to keep to the shadier avenues of the pottery district.

As he wandered along, slipping through the crowded streets, he contemplated what a crippled pegasus would want with the map of the seventh village. Entering a narrow alleyway, Wrath ducked under a low portico and pushed his way into a cool, dark store. The shop was more a covered space between the buildings, packed high with decorative carpets, old wood carvings and cases of strange trinkets.

‘Tesoro Perduto at your serv... ah. Wrath. You'll not be being after a nice rug then.’

‘Indeed Tesoro’, replied Wrath. ‘I’d like to pick your brains.’

---

As Wrath left the shop he noticed the sun was slipping down behind the skyline; the last few minutes of the waking day bleeding out across the sky in fiery reds and golds.

A howling noise pierced the dusk, the artificial wail rising and falling in waves through the previously still air.

‘By the Sun,’ Wrath exclaimed, ‘the air-raid sirens.'

He looked more intently into the fading light on the edge of the horizon. The sky was becoming increasingly black but he could make out the dark shapes of airships heading in from the North-West; the undersides of their envelopes lit by the dying rays of the sun.

Wrath started to run back to the docks, weaving and dodging his way through the cramped, narrow streets of Vanner as the city started to light up from the flames of falling ordnance hitting infrastructure. The airships could move far quicker than he, and it was barely a minute or two of running before the drone of engines was overhead and the impact of an explosive rocked the building he had just passed, showering the roadway with debris and broken glass.

The road finally opened out and Wrath recognised the street on which he was running. A few more turns brought him back towards the skydock and the gleaming brightwork of the docked Loncastre. The deck was a hive of activity, and the huge guns were firing flames across the sky at the interlopers. The engines were whirling at idle and the ramp was still attached to the docking platform.

Wrath launched himself up the tower and came to a gasping stop on board the ship.

‘Took your time’, said a nonplussed Cool Pastures, ‘but I thought I’d be waiting as we agreed.’

‘Ah, well,’ Wrath smirked, ‘I got a little lost on my way back: all look the same these streets.’

The Captain, having received the nod, yelled an order and the ramp fell away along with the mooring ropes. The engines spun up and screamed like banshees as the nimble craft angled steeply into the air, the force pushing Wrath against the deck as it lurched into the fray.

The great alicorn’s horn at the front of the ship seemed to pierce the clouds as the ship rose into the black; and the pegasi crew members leant out from rigging that ran up the sides of the envelope, ready to protect the fragile lifting mechanism from attack. The wind was howling as it streamed past and dark clouds seemed to be pouring in from all directions. Wrath turned to look at the Agister as a bolt of lightning flashed across the sky.

‘The weather teams be mounting a little surprise of their own’, said the Agister, grinning.

The deckhooves started shifting more ordnance up from the stores to restock the guns which were swivelling on their brass rails, frantically wound on a pulley system that was taking orders from a grizzled looking lieutenant.

The sky above was ablaze with fire from the airships, powerful ground-based searchlights and flashes of lightning. The thunder roared nearly as loud as the cannon, as the clouds emptied their watery stores onto the burning buildings below. The winds were roaring past at odd angles and in strange storm patterns that threw the enemy ships off course.

As the Loncastre forged its way forward through the skies the lookout signalled to the captain. Off the starboard bow a small gryffon ship had left the main group and was trying to slip undetected down the river, its lights extinguished.

‘Follow at a safe distance’, growled the Captain, ‘I want to see what she's up to.’

The engines wound down to a steady hum, and the lights extinguished from forepeak to stern. The enemy ship led the way down the river, heading towards the western gate, sinking continually lower until it was just a few feet above the water. Watching through field glasses Wrath could see troops aboard handling a crate to the edge of the rail. It was pushed over and fell into the river with a splash. A number of gryffons flew down to join it as it resurfaced and began to push the now bobbing crate ashore.

A nudge from his side led Wrath to glance at the Agister.
‘It looks to me like the gate is open’, whispered Cool Pastures.
Sure enough, figures could be seen slipping in and out of the wide gate, handling more heavy crates.
‘Heh, and look’, noted Wrath, ‘no light at the tower. Fancy that.’

With the mysterious crate offloaded and ashore, the gryffon troops reboarded their airship which started to lift and turn about face. As the ship rose the clouds parted a brief moment and the moonlight sparkled off the Loncastre's brightwork.

‘Damned to Tartarus....’, swore the Captain as the ship opposite, currently broadside, opened up its guns. ‘All about!’ yelled the lieutenant, all pretence at running silent gone. ‘Fire!’

The sky lit up as the airship heeled, skewing itself around, partially blocking the fire with the reinforced iron hull. The clang of metal on metal rang through the air and the forward gun spewed fire as it pivoted to keep track of the enemy.

The pegasi left hold on the rigging and launched into the air, forming a pattern and readying their weapons as numerous gryffons took wing and headed towards the ship.

Cool Pastures hauled himself to the centre of the airship and motioned to Wrath to join him at a large capstan. The Agister touched a mechanism, the bars folded out, and the officer mouthed a word through the clamorous air.

Both ponies pushed hard against the bars, straining against the deck to turn the heavy machinery. The centre of the capstan started to raise up high, a guttural clunking accompanying the effort. The recoiling guns filled the air with noise and smoke; the clink of mana cartridges.

As the airship pitched and rolled they both struggled to continue in the heavy rain against the slick decking. Another crew member pulled his way across to the device and helped turn the heavy capstan. The middle section finally reached its upper limit and, releasing from engagement, fell down towards the bottom of the hull.

A pulse of compressed air rippled out from the underside of the vessel; pegasi and gryffons, fighting in the air above momentarily stopped before continuing their battle. Signals from distant Vannan ships flashed in response, and a guttural roar was heard outside the city walls.

The gryffon ship opposite fired a broadside at The Loncastre. Heavy iron balls screamed through the air striking the decks and rails as the ship slewed about. Wrath dropped to the deck as one flew through the space where his head had just been, smashing through the upper wheelhouse behind him. The lieutenant yelled down to the deck below as deckhooves ran to pony the lower wheelhouse.

Amidst the confusion, noise and affray, Cool Pastures stood staunch, a hoof braced against the capstan. His eyes roved across the scene unfolding before him. As a low pitched whine issued from the engines of the enemy ship, his mouth hardened into a thin line, his eyes resting on the embodiment of his Princess at the bow.

‘Are you thinking what I'm thinking’, yelled Wrath.

Cool Pastures looked across at Wrath with a glint in his eye.

‘Ramming speed!’ he roared.

Author's Note:

Woohoo, this was a tough chapter, but here it is!

Comments

[Lasairfion]

Of course there technically is no such speed as "Ramming Speed".