An Extended Holiday

by Commander_Pensword

62 - Sacrifice

Extended Holiday
Ch 62: Sacrifice
Act 8

---

“So,” Grif said as he looked at Avalon. “You have an explanation for me?” The worst part had to be how flat and neutral his tone was. There was no playful glint in the eye, no hint of the Grif whose company she had come to enjoy, mayhaps even crave. That Grif was locked away somewhere she would not be able to reach.

“... If you wish to kill me, I understand,” Avalon said as she eyed the focus and the grimoire both. “That art’s always been forbidden to females, and the males for centuries, ever since you, well, you know,” she said.

“Ever since I spent three days in a constant wind tunnel with barely enough air to breathe while the practitioners of this craft attempted to break my magic field,” Grif said. “I thought I had kept this out of Gryphon hands.”

Avalon’s eyes widened. “I saw the damage in your field, but to think it came from that … I didn’t want to believe Grandfather’s tales.” She shuddered.

“Sometimes the past is buried for a reason,” Grif said with burning intensity. He looked at the focus. Contrary to popular belief, destroying such a thing was incredibly difficult. Making one even more so. “Pensword, you said that the scouts found the library fully intact. You said they went over every volume. Is it possible this came from the fort?”

Pensword shook his head. “Negative. This book is far older than what we found. I took the time, and some of the notes were written by talon. What we have here is an actual research book if I am to take a guess, most likely from this landmass, not in Equestria. I ordered each book stamped on the inside cover to track anything that might have been sold after the war and checked each one of them myself to be sure.”

“Where did you find this?” Grif asked. “What reason could you have gotten into this?”

Avalon sighed. “I didn’t find the book; the book found me. I was young and I had wanted to make a difference, a contribution to the clan. Not for war, not for conquering, just to help. It was while I walked out here by the lakeside that I found it lying in the sand. I carried it home, curious about its purpose and why it had been left here. When I found it was in Ancient Gryphic, I knew it had to be something special, so I hid it and studied until I managed to decipher the language on my own. You can imagine my surprise when I found out its use.”

“And you never thought to doubt the safety of an arcane object?” Grif asked her.

“It had done me no harm. I admit that initially I tried to put it away. I was afraid of it, but the book kept coming back. It wouldn’t stay put anywhere I tried to leave it. So, I finally relented and kept it in my room. You already saw the decoy I placed on it to make it less desirable. The book seemed content with that and I left it be.” She looked up guiltily. “Until my Father grew ill.”

“Carry on,” Grif said.

“It happened about five years ago. My father is the personal servant to Lord Garrus and goes with him to every meeting, function, and party. He’d recently been to a meeting of the Clan Lords with Lord Garrus and when the pair returned home, both were extremely upset. Father wouldn’t go into much detail, but he was positively livid. A week or so later, Lord Garrus invited our family to dine with him at his table: a most gracious offer. My father accepted immediately and brought us all with him. Perhaps he was hoping one of us would catch the eyes of Lord Garrus’ sons, or perhaps he was merely being polite. Either way, we all came in our best dress.

“Dinner came and we all enjoyed each other's company while the servants brought Roast Quail for the main course. It’s one of Father’s favorites. We enjoyed the light meal and spoke for a time longer before Father asked to be excused. He wasn’t feeling well and he certainly didn’t look well.” Tears misted Avalon’s eyes as she recalled the events. “He rose from the table only to collapse on the floor in pain. You can guess what had happened.”

“Hemlock,” Grif said.

“Virtually undetectable. And using quail, too. A very classic move for meat eaters.” Pensword snorted in irritation.

“Lord Garrus was taken to a safe place and my father was taken to our healers. … There wasn’t much they could do. They told us father would be dead by morning and expressed their condolences. My mother wailed, as did my sisters. My brothers drew their blades and left the room. Certain servants would not live long enough to regret their mistake, let alone their betrayal. I ran, too, but not for weapons. Weapons couldn’t save my father. Neither could the healers. If I was going to save him, I had only one option left to me.”

“Magic,” Grif said.

Avalon nodded. “And hasty magic at that. I raced to my room and took the book from its hiding place, throwing it onto my bed. I tore through the pages, flipping as quickly as my talons could manage in search of something, anything to save him. It took me ten precious minutes to find what I needed.” She walked over to the stump and opened the grimoire carefully to about three quarters through the book. There, ancient Gryphon characters surrounded what appeared to be a visual diagram of the parts involved in the creation of a focus. Several warning symbols adorned the page as she held it up to show the four witnesses present.

“I knew it would be dangerous, but if I could save my father, it would be worth it.” She closed the book and returned to her narration. “I quickly memorized the ingredients I would need and went to work. I needed three main ingredients to forge the focus: A large quartz stone, a housing framework, and a core that I could insert into the Quartz itself to represent the aspect of the magic I wished to cast. For the core, I ran to the kitchens looking for healing herbs. When I couldn’t find any, I took a head of garlic and left.

“When I returned to my room, I immediately took my dagger and began to saw away at my bedpost until I’d removed one of the wooden rings that had been a part of its design. Rushing back to the book, I hastily copied and carved the runes that would be necessary into the wood on both sides, trying to even out the rough edges at the same time so the housing could be smooth and symmetrical. When that was finished, I ransacked my own room, searching for something, anything that would have enough quartz to be the housing for my core. Unfortunately, quartz, while very shiny, is also incredibly cheap. I had sapphires, rubies, even a couple of diamonds, but no quartz, and no gems large enough to fulfill the requirements.

“I didn’t know what else to do, so I got down on my knees and prayed to the winds for aid. I was still praying when an annoying tapping at my window finally got my attention. I chose to ignore it for a time until it grew too insistent. I went to my window and opened it, ready to kill the offending creature. I almost did until I saw what it was standing on. Its scaly yellow legs and red tipped wings hovered over a massive chunk of Quartz. It was exactly what I needed. The Merlin screeched once in my face, then darted off.

“I darted too, only to my bed, rather than to the skies. I set to work hacking and striking the quartz, doing my best to round it out into the sphere it needed to be. Then, laying it on the bed, I placed the garlic over it and began to chant the incantation that would make the two one. This was the hard part, considering I had to speak each word clearly and exactly. You can guess how difficult that was for me under the circumstances. I held the book close to my face as I carefully read each word. A mixture of green and white light glowed in front of me, but I dared not look. Not when the spell wasn’t complete. I prayed I’d gotten it right when I uttered the last syllable and lowered the book. There was the core, whole and waiting. Then came the tricky part.”

“The housing,” Grif said.

“Yes, the housing. Normally the creation of a proper focus takes days, sometimes weeks to accomplish because the bonding agent between the housing and the core needs to set and cure. I didn’t have days, I had hours, maybe even minutes for all I knew. Or worse yet …” She trailed off and shuddered, not even willing to bring herself to say what had occurred to her mind. “So I took a risk. I did the one thing I could think to do and took some twine from my lady’s sewing room. I hastily tied it around the housing and the core, shaping it in the form of an elementary binding rune before I tied it off.”

“And then you ran to your father,” Kal’leam said, surprising everyone with the gentility in his voice.

“Yes, then I went to my father. I flew as fast as my wings could carry me.” Avalon bowed her head. “The healers would not bar me as I entered the room. My brothers stood over my father as he gave each of them his blessing. I saw the wind rustling his feathers. I knew … I knew …” Tears had formed in her eyes. Tears that Grif knew only too well as he too recalled a dying Gryphon in pain and the blessing he had given him alongside his bow.

“His time was coming,” Cheshire said. Avalon nodded.

“He looked so worn. His crest was limp, his face and voice ravaged by the effects of the poison. I remember mother reprimanding me for leaving father’s side. Father managed to calm her though and called me over to him. He wanted to say his last goodbyes and I was the only one left.” She chuckled. “Last one born, and last to see him off. The world is funny like that.”

“So what happened?” Pensword asked, unable to keep his silence any longer as Avalon’s voice worked its magic.

“He wanted to give me his final blessing and his last instructions. You know the ritual, Grif.” Grif nodded grimly. “He did the same with me and told me to follow my heart, to defy any restraint others sought to place upon me. And then he smiled. He said I would marry for love and nothing less, and my marriage would be one of honor and resolution.

“‘I can’t. I won’t. Not without you to give me away,’ I said. I remember his chuckle and the pain it caused him as he wept. He could hardly move then.

“‘I will be there, dear Avalon,’ he said. ‘But it must needs be in spirit.’

“‘It doesn’t have to be.’ I wept openly. The death of a loved one is one of the few times any show of weakness is acceptable in our culture, for in mourning loss, one is merely showing the measure of one’s love and respect for the person who passed before.

“‘Nothing can be done, Avalon. The poison has taken its course, and it’s time for me to join my father and mother on the winds,’ he said.

“‘Not without a fight, winds help me,’ I said, laying my hand over his heart. I held the focus there and slowly brought my magic to bear for the first time.” Avalon paused to gather her thoughts.

“Calling up magic and using it … it’s a difficult thing to describe. Sometimes it’s like a steady drip of water into a basin and other times it’s like a sudden squall bursting on you in flight. Sometimes it burns and other times it cools. But every time I’ve used it, it’s never hurt. To this day I still don’t know how to describe what went through me that night. I cast the words in my mind and let my desire flow through the focus. It grew hot in my hand, but I refused to let go, even as golden light shot between my fingers. It felt as if something broke inside me. I suppose exploded would be a better term. Everything felt … different, I guess you could say. Like I was seeing the world with a new set of eyes. I could feel the winds, feel the life around me, see the magic in the air. It was … incredible. And then it was gone and everything went black.”

“What happened next?” Kel’leam asked.

Avalon shrugged. “I woke up. I was in bed in the infirmary. Mother was there, and so were my sisters and brothers. They all just stared at me. Some of them were stoic, some of them angry, and others still bewildered.

“‘Where is father?’ I asked. Nobody answered. ‘Mother, where is father?’ I asked again.

“‘Sleeping,’ she finally said. ‘In his room.’

“‘Thank the winds it worked.’ No sooner had the words left my mouth when my mother slapped me, then clutched me against her breast.

“‘What were you thinking?’ she wept. I remember those tears as they fell on my shoulder. ‘You could have died. You still can.’ I faced a lot of reprimands to follow, and I learned just how deadly my choice had been not just for me, but for the clan as a whole. If word of what I had done, what I had accomplished, were ever to get out, everyone would be at risk. I later discovered the magic had not left me entirely untouched as well. When I was born, my eyes were a bright purple. After the incident, my eyes turned gold, the same as the light from the spell. When I was allowed to return to my bed, the grimoire was waiting for me. After much thought and prayer, I decided it would be best to keep the book hidden and learn the art for myself. I care for my family, and for our clan, but that book came to me for a reason, and I intend to find out why. The only way I see how is to keep learning from it and practicing until I get the answer.”

“And what of your father? What did he have to say?” Grif asked.

“As far as I’m aware, he doesn’t know. He remembered what happened, but he thought it a gift from the winds and that that was the end of it. He called my golden eyes a blessing. Ever since then, I’ve been practicing behind his and my family’s backs. I’ve been treated as his little girl in every way, including the occasional guard request when I’m not with my mistress.” She smiled ruefully. “I think he wants to keep me safe forever.”

Grif stared at Avalon long and hard. “Leave us,” he requested. Pensword nodded his head as he and the others left. “Well, Avalon, you’ve put me in quite the dilemma,” Grif said as he rose to his feet and walked over to her. “On the one hand, I can’t let you keep going around all cloak and dagger like this. On the other, I cannot draw attention for you because it would mean your death.” Grif picked up the focus from the stump and opened her talons before placing it in them and closing her fingers over it. “Go to your home, pack the things that mean the most to you, and say your goodbyes.” He stepped back. “Tomorrow, Lord Farflyer will be hosting a feast in honor of my recovery. After I have made peace with him, I will be talking to your father.”

Avalon gaped. “Talking to my father?”

“If you’d please examine your hand,” Grif said, alerting avalon to the strange weight that seemed to have appeared there. A large ring adorned her finger and she gawked at it, nearly letting her focus drop to the floor in her shock.

“Avalon Farflyer, will you marry a very stupid, very foolish Gryphon?” Grif asked her, smiling for the first time since she’d entered the tent.

“No,” she said, and Grif’s beek dropped open. “I won’t marry a very stupid, very foolish Gryphon.” She walked up to him and flicked his beak shut with a talon. “But I will marry a very kind, very wise, and very understanding Gryphon who I thought would never accept a girl like me in a million years.”

Grif smiled. “Good, cause there’s been something I’ve wanted to do since I clapped eyes on you.” Sweeping her into his arms, he kissed her.

---

Trixie led Vital Spark down the halls deeper than Vital Spark thought they should be going, a fact he had voiced several times during the walk until they came into a small half circular room with four doorways. “This will be the room. Today you shall get a personal performance from the entertaining and spellbinding Trixie!” Trixie threw up her hooves, creating puffs of blue smoke as she did.

“Trixie, I know you want to cheer me up and all, but --”

“Nonsense!” Trixie said. “Trixie has everything under control,” she said, trying to summon a bouquet of flowers, only for flower blossoms to explode all over the room.

Against his will, Vital Spark smirked and barely suppressed a chuckle. “Um … was that supposed to happen?” he asked. The light, cheerful personality Trixie had seen earlier had all but vanished and a dark paul seemed to have come in its place, but for that one moment, a bit of that cheerful Unicorn shined through like a cloud opening to let the sun in before closing again.

Trixie started a moment as she realized that she actually hadn’t taken offense at the smile, despite it being at her expense. Could it be she really was changing? Or was it more out of a sense of pity for what Vital Spark had to face? In a sense, Trixie could relate to what he was going through. She had nearly done the same thing when corrupted by the Dark Alicorn Amulet. But even corrupted, she hadn’t had to kill. Changeling invaders didn’t mean much to her, so the accidental crushing didn’t phase her too much, but Vital Spark was different. He did care, and it hurt him in a very deep place. For some reason, that didn’t sit right with Trixie. Could this be pity as well? No, not pity. Pity was linked to her pride. This was something else. Could it be … compassion? Fellowship even?

“Trixie always thought power would answer all her problems.” Trixie sighed. “But now Trixie has all the power she could need and she can’t even pick up a glass without crushing it.”

“We walk a fine line, don’t we? I don’t get powerful unless my emotions get too strong. But when they do … well, you saw what happened,” Vital said.

“It saved Trixie’s life. That doesn’t make you a monster.” Trixie lit her horn to pick up the blossoms only for her to stop suddenly, her eyes catching a stone figure near the edge of the room. A layer of fine powder and dust littered the floor surrounding the Unicorn. Based on the style of its mane, she was clearly a mare and a detailed stone cloak fluttered and folded around her mid-billow. Her tired eyes gazed blankly ahead and a series of cracks raced up her horn, giving the appearance of it falling apart along with her health. Deep bags had been carefully carved beneath the eyes and the expression on her face bespoke utter exhaustion.

“Huh. That’s actually really good. Depressing, but well carved. My compliments to the artist,” Vital Spark said.

“She’s still alive,” Trixie said, her horn lighting.

“Wait, what?”

“There is a Unicorn in there,” Trixie repeated, “And she is still alive.”

“Like Hammer Strike and the others? But the only one who could cast that spell was Star Swirl the Bearded.”

Trixie examined the statue. Her eyes caught sight of something under the stone cloak. She traced the details of the pendant with her hoof. “Impossible.”

“What is it?” Vital asked, leaning in to examine what she’d found. “Wait just a minute …” Vital said. “That cannot be what I think it is.”

“That was the star sapphire of Sevra Scaleback,” Trixie said. “Given to Clover the Clever as a personal gift. It never left her neck.”

“Was this pendant common knowledge?”

“It’s ancient Unicorn history. Trixie’s parents were very adamant about her education.”

“So it wasn’t common knowledge,” Vital said. Trixie shook her head. “But how is that possible?”

“Trixie can think of only one possibility. This mare is Clover the Clever.”

“So what should we do?” Vital asked. “Should we tell someone?”

“Who can be spared?” Trixie asked. “We are under siege…” Trixie looked at the statue again, here eyes suddenly lighting up. “And we have here one of the most powerful Unicorns to ever live!” Trixie looked to Vital Spark. “Trixie knows how we can help!”

“Woah woah woah, Trixie. Clover was put in stone for a reason, and she doesn’t look so good. Let’s not try anything unless we have to.”

“Trixie… knows a spell that can save her. It will take some time to cast, but Trixie knows she can do it! Trixie can prove herself.” She put a hoof on his chest. “Will Vital Spark help Trixie?”

Before Vital Spark could answer, bells began sounding all over the base ranging from a slow, deep booming of the lower rafters to the accompaniment of higher, more frantic bells ringing in the upper towers. The many bells united to create a cacophony of noise as their peals reverberated through the stone hallways, shaking the dust from the supports above them.

“The security bells,” Vital exclaimed.

“Will you help?” Trixie pressed.

Vital darted his eyes left and right, scavenging his mind for something, anything he could use as an alternative or excuse. At last, he sighed in defeat. “What do you need me to do?”

---

“I’m an idiot!” Grif growled as he paced in his tent. Kel’leam and Cheshire sat on opposite corners. “Winds damn it, Grif! You know the law! You are the representative of the North East wind. The law demands she die! And what do you do? You propose!”

“Well, this is your M.O.,” Pensword muttered. “Remember Shrial. She was meant to die, and you saved her.”

“Shrial was an innocent,” Grif said. “No matter the motivation, this is still a major offense.”

“Yes, but you are not as cold or unfeeling as Gryphon Law. And question, is this Gryphon Law of today, or a thousand years ago?” Pensword snorted, flicking his left ear.

“When the evokers’ actions became public the emperor nearly suffered a revolt. So about 800 years ago the emperor declared Gryphons shouldn’t deal with magic and outlawed the practice of evoking,” Grif explained.

“Well then, just apply the laws of a thousand years ago here. Also… Need I remind you of what you own back on the Equestrian Continent? I do not see the problem.”

“And I’ve been keeping it out of Gryphon talons,” Grif responded. “Knowledge lost is doomed to resurface,” Grif reminded him.

“Permission to speak, sir?” Cheshire asked.

“We’re not military, Chesire, you know that,” Grif responded.

“I figured it was the best way to snap you out of it,” she said, shrugging casually. “Don’t know if it’s too important, but she probably saved your life, or at the very least hastened your recovery with that bauble of hers. She said your magic was down to a trickle, so she gave you some of hers. Wouldn’t a life debt cancel out your obligation in this case?” she asked as she played with her daggers.

“A life debt?” Grif considered her words carefully as his eyes wandered over to his own twin swords. In hindsight, he supposed his own thoughts on Gryphon magic could be a bit… extreme. After all, he used wind magic himself. “Alright, Cheshire, you're the highest ranked one here next to me. Counsel me on this issue.”

“Well where do you want to go?” Cheshire asked, a grin stretching across her beak that reminded Grif all too well of a certain cat from a book he read long ago.

“Okay, I guess I deserved that one,” Grif said, chuckling. “Kel’leam, as far as the Bladefeathers know, all evokers are dead. Warn anyone who saw anything that alarm blowers will be silenced to the full extent of my authority.” Grif stood up. “And then give yourselves a raise.”

“Yes, sir,” Kel’leam said, saluting as he left to spread the word. Cheshire remained behind to keep an eye on their leader.

“Pensword, you may want to get your dress uniform out of storage,” Grif said.

“My uniform is not in storeage. I actually have it being prepped for the dinner so I can wear it more.”

“Then best not get anything on it,” Grif said. “If her father agrees, the ceremony could be as soon as that very night.”

Pensword chuckled. “Do not worry, Grif. I will be ready.”

---

The doors had been reinforced through Trixie’s guidance with enchantments and barriers to resist entry and brute attacks, alongside a magic ward. While the mare had not been capable of casting the spells when she’d learned of them, it would seem she was quite capable at remembering the theory behind them, and that made her the perfect guide for Vital Spark. The sounds of battle and the clashing of steel could be heard down the hall. Vital found himself rooted to his spot as he focused his energy while Trixie carved the final pieces of her spell array into the stone.

“Now Trixie will start. She cannot move until she finishes the spell, so be ready,” trixie warned.

Vital’s horn was glowing as perspiration formed on his brow. “What happens if I can’t hold these wards?”

“Then you won’t have time to worry about it,” Trixie told him. She ignited her horn and the array began to glow as mana flooded the lines. When it reached Clover, the energies crackled electrically at the statue’s hooves. The eyes of the statue began to glow a silvery blue before a grey mist began to filter out of the statue and into Trixie. Trixie winced as pain arced through her body, but put her willpower into remaining silent. Vital Spark couldn’t know the price. He’d only face more guilt that way.

“Great,” Vital muttered. “I’m in the middle of a freaking videogame,” he said as he felt the first blows against his wards. “Here’s hoping I do Shining proud.”

Cracks began to form on the statue’s surface as more and more energy arced from Trixie’s horn and more more mist fled the statue’s body, flooding her own. The mist slowly grew darker and began to release an acrid stench as it entered Trixie’s body. Her fur became straw-like and thin, her mane rapidly paling.

“Trixie, how’s that spell coming?” Vital shouted as he grit his teeth. A shattering sound heralded the destruction of his first ward.

The cracks spidered outwards, covering the surface of the statue. The stone covering the horn chipped away, revealing the blue alichorn beneath.

A small explosion sounded outside as the second barrier went. “Ha! How do ya like them apples?” Vital smirked. Trixie had assured him the spells were non-lethal and would only stun.

More stone left the statue, revealing silvery-blue hair with a pure silver and dark grey striped mane. It began to move in the free air, shedding gravel like rain.

Vital’s horn was glowing at the tip now, the rest of the glow having ebbed away as the final barrier collapsed. “Trixie?” he turned and stopped, his eyes widening as he beheld the Unicorn enchantress. “Trixie, what are you doing?”

Trixie was visibly shaking as the last of the mist entered her body. Just as the door finally burst, a massive shockwave of magic erupted through the room as the stone shattered like glass, revealing an older blue Unicorn mare. Her cutie mark was a series of green stars shaped like a shamrock.

“... Where am I?” Clover asked seconds before Trixie collapsed.

“Trixie!” Vital Spark ran to the fallen Unicorn. “You big idiot, why didn’t you tell me?”

“Trixie was able to save Clover the Clever ... by taking her fate for herself,” Trixie said weakly. “V-vital Spark.” Trixie coughed blood, staining her hoof. “Was trixie a good pony ... in the end?”

“This … this isn’t …” Tears sprung anew in his eyes for the second time in twenty four hours. “... A life for a life,” he muttered. Trixie nodded weakly, smiling.

“She was … sick. Trixie fixed her … to save New Unity.” She hacked again as more blood flecked her lips. “... Did Trixie do good, Vital Spark?” she asked again, this time in scarcely more than a whisper.

Vital Spark took her to his chest as he cradled her head. “Yes, Trixie. You did good,” he choked.

Trixie coughed one last time and smiled before her eyes rolled back into her head and she slumped. The flowers she had conjured and strewn over the floor in her attempt to cheer Vital up withered and died around them, turning to dried husks. Clover the Clever bowed her head, confused, but regretful for such a young mare’s death. The aged Unicorn leaned down and with her hoof closed her eyes gently. “Walk with Faust in the Spring Meadows.” After a few moments of suitable silence, she spoke again.

“You, child, please tell me, what is happening?” Clover asked, her voice cracking, barely above a whisper as she brought a hoof to her horn.

The barred wooden doors splintered and the head of a changeling poked through, hissing as it hacked up goo that started to burn away around the hole in the door.

“You stupid foal,” Vital whispered as he continued to cradle the sickly corpse. His insides immediately went numb as he took in his surroundings with a strange sense of detachment.

“Changelings!” Clover snorted steam as she stared at the door. Lifting her back left hoof, she stomped it against the stone ground and almost as though a spark had been struck, her fur turned golden white as her mane and tail lit with flame. The first two changelings out the door literally melted before her. The next one was lifted in her magic and used as a crude cudgel against the further changelings. “Get behind me,” she told Vital Spark as she walked through the door, the limp changeling still in her grasp.

Vital didn’t want to move at first, but seeing the necessity of the act, he laid Trixie’s body on the dais where Clover once had stood and did his best to set her up peacefully. Afterwards, he walked out to the waiting Clover. He turned but once, his horn glowing bright blue as the flowers were revived, this time in a pattern of white, blue, and grey. Their scent overwhelmed the decay from before. Then the door began to repair itself as splinters and pieces reassembled themselves and the acidic damage was reversed.

He nodded only once as the door returned to its original state before he followed mutely after the Unicorn from legend. He had imagined this kind of scenario a hundred if not a thousand times in his mind before he was even dragged to Equestria. He’d lost family and loved ones before. It didn’t matter in the slightest. His imagining was nothing compared to the actual thing. Despite the fires Clover exuded, he felt cold as they passed through the halls. Mournful cries echoed from the very stones themselves as a brisk wind whistled through the cracks almost seeming to say “She’s dead. She’s dead. She’s dead.”

---

Pensword paused in mid motion. He shivered and he looked to his left. For a brief moment he thought he saw Trixie, but it was so quick he wasn’t sure. He looked back at the mirror as he adjusted his sash. Once that was complete he moved back to his letter and placed a postscript at the bottom asking how Trixie was doing. He paused and added in an update on the lives of the troops. He nodded at the scroll, and letting the ink dry, returned to making sure his medals were properly set.

With preparations complete, he rolled up the scroll, wrapped it with his ribbon, sealed it with wax, and imprinted it with his new seal: what was once the Commandant emblem of Fort Triumph. It had become his personal seal during the Third Gryphon War and continued to this day. He got up, wrapping the scroll with his wing and walked towards Grif’s tent. “Knock, Knock. I got my letter, and a few others from the other Thestrals.”

“They're all addressed?” Grif asked “I don’t want Shrial having to sort through a mess of letters and then have to try and hunt down random Thestrals.”

“They are. Most of them are sketches of Cutie Marks, a holdover from the times in the caves, so you do not need to worry about misplaced letters.” He paused as he waited for a moment, making sure no others were nearby. He lowered his voice. “Grif, a warning. I think I saw Trixie for a moment. I hope everything is okay, but I did ask if there is a problem at home.”

“I’m sure you’re just tired,” Grif said as he struck his lighter. “You’ve had a long few days anyway.”

“I hope you are right, but I am going to still be on guard.” He shook his head with a snort. “I would rather be ready in case things are real, but I hope you are right, Grif. I hope you are right.”

“Well, not much we could do about it at the moment anyway,” Grif reminded him. “We can’t fly across the ocean under our own power.” He took the letters from Pensword and placed them next to the one he had written Shrial as well as three shark tooth necklaces. He placed the zippo so the flame contacted the bottom of the pile and the whole mess vanished in green flames.

“Agreed, but I would rather have the knowledge of back home.” Pensword flexed a wing. “If nothing else, so I know who to march against the moment we get back.” He took a slow, steady breath in and out. “Well, ready for this meeting, I guess.”

“Hey, I’m the one with the right to be nervous here,” Grif said, checking his armor one last time. “You're not the one who may be married by the end of the night.”

Pensword nodded. “Grif, I am nervous. This is the first time I have left my daughter with my wife on what is a very dangerous business trip. My father did a lot when I was younger, so I can relate a little, but still, I worry about my family,” He admitted. “And I would rather not think too much on how this clan might see ‘The Demon.’”

“And I have had to leave my, by this point, very pregnant wife behind,” Grif reminded him. “We’re in this together, okay?”

“Indeed,” Pensword responded, “which is why I am admitting these concerns. You know what I am going through.”

Grif hugged him. “Isn’t that why we’re here though? So they don’t end up the victims of some war?”

“Agreed,” Pensword responded as he returned the hug. “Still, when should we make our appearance? Also, question: What are you planning? I know that look. You got something planned.”

“Did you see Garrus’ belt?” Grif asked .

“Grif, I have not been near any of the Farflyers. I was more focused on the Gryphons around us, so I think I got a quick look, but nothing too concrete. I assume it is important?”

“It’s the belt of Bellith the Blessed,” Grif told him as he unstrapped the black bow and held it out. “Bellith was the twin brother to Galan the Black. The brothers were part of the group who managed to kill the Diamond Dog King Olaf. Each took a gem from his crown according to their part and the gem was made into an item of great importance to the warrior. Gryphon law says that I should have recompense of equal value or lesser value only if I declare it equal, and what they cost me, what they cost Graf, can never be replaced. I intend to have the belt as my recompense.”

Pensword paused. “Grif… you are gathering together the crown jewels of the Diamond Dogs.” He sighed. “I’ll be sure to draw up battle plans against any packs that attack us.” He knew better than to leave things to chance in this world.

“It’s more than that,” Grif said. “These gems, when together, represent one of the greatest achievements that Gryphons have ever accomplished. Olaf was well protected, well armed, and a very skilled warrior. On top of that, he was a Dane: a very large, very powerful breed of Diamond Dog. The victory was quite possibly the one time gryphons fought together without outside reason or divine mandate.” Grif sighed. “The avatar is supposed to change something about the Gryphons of the age, I geuss…. I’m hoping seeing the collection together might inspire us to be better.”

“Well, if it does, may this bring a unified front, and not a desire to fight and claim it for petty reasons. Still, if this can bring about a future where I can bury the wingblades against the Gryphons, you have my support, Grif.” Pensword looked to a corner of the tent, zoning out as he recalled the past. “Also, sorry about the Submission Ritual, but that was the only way I could see to heal the rift that I caused between your--excuse me, our troops and restore unity with the Crystal Guards.”

“Don’t apologize. You’re making the Canadian look bad.” Grif laughed as he stood tall. “Shall we mingle?”

“We shall,” he responded, then smiled. “When we return to--well, when we visit Earth, I shall have to see Canada.”

“I think I’d like that.” Grif winked.

---

The Farflyers had set the great hall lavishly. Banners of both the Bladefeathers and the Farflyers lined the room, the silver and green of Grif’s colors contrasting well to the black and blue of Garrus’. The tables were placed out and laid with a lavish spread. Deer, boar, all types of wild fowl, and, much to Grif’s surprise, even Gryphonian snow hare, which was rare and considered a delicacy. A separate table of vegetables had been laid for the crystal ponies, though out of tradition, Bellacosa was seated at the head table with the other special guests.

As they walked in, Grif had noticed right away the cold looks that his Gryphons were casting on the Farflyers. The Farflyers themselves, to their credit, did their best to look unbothered as they attempted to politely treat their guests.

Deciding to make an entrance before things got ugly, Grif took a pair of goblets from a passing server and handed one to Pensword before roaring loudly for attention. The room went quiet instantly as all eyes turned to Grif. He looked to Garrus, politely waiting for his approval to speak. Garrus nodded his head in ascent and looked on as he awaited what was to come.

“To you, Lord Farflyer.” Grif lifted the goblet in the air. “I know things have started rocky between us, on no small part due to my own mind set. I pray when business is concluded tonight there will be strong ties between our clans. I thank you for your aid in the ugly matter of these past two days and for the use of your healer. I drink to you and your health.” He spoke in gryphic for the benefit of the troops. To Pensword, the sound almost resembled a toucan.

Pensword waited for Garrus to sip before he would sip from his own drink. He was trying his best to be on his best behavior. A dinner like this was just another battlefield, but he hoped it would end on a little lighter note than it had started.

Grif went to his seat not far away from Garrus’ own under a larger version of his clan’s banner. Between them, Bellacosa sat, but on the other side of Garrus was his family. Grif moved his eyes in their direction, realizing he had yet to truly see the lord's heirs, or his spouses.

Farther down at the end of the table, Grif caught sight of Avalon as she whispered with a gryphoness he assumed to be her lady and other extended family. A few of her brothers nodded at Grif as they noted his expression, though their other talons hovered over their swords and their fingers twitched. Avalon turned and gave them a glare and they relented, though still looked uncomfortable. The ring that had adorned her talon earlier was gone for now, but Grif could understand why she would keep it hidden. He had yet to arrange the marriage. To wear such a symbol too soon would draw her father’s ire, even if it was the Avatar of Winds asking her hand. Avalon giggled and winked once at Grif on the sly before returning to gossipping with her mistress. She blushed when Garrus’ daughter whispered in her ear and suddenly found her plate extremely fascinating.

Grif served himself a little bit from all the offered dishes. Eating heartily, he encouraged Pensword to do the same. The Bladefeathers had begun to feel at ease as they watched their leader enjoying the hospitality and soon the feast had truly begun.

Pensword looked to his men and made sure they saw him take the first bite of his food, thus giving them permission to eat as well. He returned to looking at the meal and slowly let a few of his wing muscles relax. He had to admit, these Gryphons knew how to cook. To avoid causing conflict, he decided to remain silent as he carefully observed his surroundings. A sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach told him he would like have to speak more after dinner during the mingling.

As the feasting reached its height and many were enjoying the festivities, Grif turned to Garrus. “I believe, Lord Farflyer, it is time we settled accounts for a better future, I have thought long and hard about how we may come to terms, and as you know, the debt between us can not be fully repaid in full save by blood, but I hope my solution may at least be more palatable to you.”

“And what did you have in mind, Grif? I thought you would have preferred to discuss this in private,” Garrus said curiously as he drank his wine.

“Has the law changed so much in a thousand years?” Grif asked “I was taught it was custom for these matters to be handled before the clan.”

“It depends on the matter of the price. I assume you intend to lessen it, judging by the sound of things. The question is to what degree.”

“When my father left, the artifacts of the twins Galan and Bellith were separated. I mean to reunite them, Lord Farflyer. For my price, I request the belt of Bellith the Blessed.”

The room fell completely silent. “You do realize what you’re asking, Grif,” Garrus said, his expression grave.

Grif looked at him. “What your grandfather took from me was more than just my father. Had Graf still remained a Farflyer, I would have been as well. I would have had a proper education, a future amongst my peers. My father, and my future. The belt does not begin to scratch the proper value of both.”

Garrus rumbled as he considered Grif’s words. “Tradition dictates that I pass the belt to one of my children. Yet you speak truth, Grif. Many things were stolen from you that you should have had a right to.” He looked to the clan, then to his children and wife, then to himself. “If I know my clan, they would rather keep the gem, and the belt, within the family. They would not relinquish it easily.” A rumble of approval swept through the crowd. “However,” Garrus raised a talon. “It might not be entirely impossible to negotiate so both sides are satisfied.”

“And what might you suggest, Lord Farflyer?” Grif asked, his eyebrow raising slightly.

“A marriage. Not only will it allow our clans to have further cemented relations, but it will also make you a part of the family, and thus, give you a right to hold the belt, even if you are not a direct descendant of the brothers by blood. I would also like to add, there will be no oaths of fealty required of you. Your clan will not be a subsidiary in any way. I wish to be allies, not a dutchy. Would that be satisfactory?”

“Marriage is a large decision, Lord Farflyer.” Grif’s eyes shifted to Avalon as he spoke the next words. “And not one I make lightly.”

“Is that a no, then?”

“There is only one in your clan I would marry.” Grif looked to Avalon and gestured her over to him. Avalon stood and boldly made her way past the table, her once passive and submissive demeanor falling aside like a veil as she strode over to Grif. All the gryphons gaped as she took her place beside Grif and handed him the ring, which he promptly slid over her finger. More than one of Garrus’ daughters glared at her from their seats, save the one Gryphoness she had sat next to. Her mistress looked fearful, but happy.

“Lord Farflyer, I wanted to put this matter to rest tonight so that I may request the blessing of the father of Avalon Farflyer,” Grif stated. “The healer who saved my life, and helped me realize the stupidity of my actions when we met.”

The room was silent yet again as Garrus stood. One of his mates attempted to lay an arm to restrain him, but he shook his head and gently pushed it back. He slowly approached the couple as he looked first to Grif, then to Avalon. Then he smiled and chuckled, soon breaking into a full throated laugh which brought him to tears.

“May I ask what the joke is?” Grif asked politely, albeit a little coldly.

“I’m sorry, Grif,” Garrus said as he forced himself to regain his composure. “You said you wished to take the matter before her father. Then let’s take this to closed quarters, shall we? Your demands may be for the clan, but a marriage contract is the father’s affair.” The laughter continued to shine in his eyes, even as he smiled.

“I’m sorry, what?” Grif asked.

“It seems my daughter is more sly than her sisters give her credit for.” Garrus smirked. “You have just asked for the hand of my youngest daughter: Avalon Rowena Du Lake Farflyer.”

The light blue momentarily overtook the dark in Grif’s eyes as one confused word came from his beak. “Nani?”

---

The Changelings had shown that the small frontal attacks were just probes. It was now easily a battle. Chrysalis had entered the battlefield with a shield around her, most likely taken from her time with Shining Armor. It was what allowed them to finally breach the gate and part of the wall was now covered by the dome. It was slowly expanding.

The troops were fighting hard, and while the thrust into the Gryphon Compound had ended, it just meant that the Changelings were reinforcing the attack upon New Unity.

“Forward, my Changelings,” Chrysalis cried out. “This day will be ours!”

In front of New Unity, apart from the ponies around Hammer Strike, the Rohirrim had formed two lines in full armor. The changelings outnumbered them three to one, but Rook was certain they could buy the time needed to come up with a counter strategy.

“Forth! Down, fear of death! Arise, arise chargers of Grif! Spears shall be shaken! Chitin shall be splintered! A sword day! A red day! And the enemy encroaches! charge now! charge now! Charge! Charge for Unity and the world’s changing! Death!” Black Rook screamed as he turned and charged the changelings. The rohirrim thundered behind him, echoing his cry.

From the air, the Dream Clan and flyers from the Gryphon Slayers were engaged in aerial combat for air superiority, their metal wing blades and swords slicing through the Changelings’ membraned wings. Night Prism rolled around a Changeling bucking with his hind legs. “There’s just no end to these guys,” He yelled joyfully, a grin settling in on his muzzle. “This is going to be Ace Combat.”

Green and red blood filled the air and stained the ground as ponies locked in combat with their enemy. Changelings were impaled upon lances and swords or broken under the weight of heavy maces and hammers. Ponies fell to the horns and teeth and massive insectoid strength of their foes.

A plan came to Hammer Strike’s mind. With a small grin on his face he charged towards Chrysalis and her shield. After a few short moments he found himself fifteen meters from the barrier. “Stop!” he yelled.

He jumped into the air, bringing his right foreleg back as he reached the pinnacle of his jump. “Hammer time,” he finished, smirking as he brought his hoof down on her shield with a mighty crack. Ugly green lightning lashed out from the bubble. Slowly, cracks began to spread across the shield as Chrysalis’ eyes widened.

“Impossible!” She exclaimed as she pumped more magic into the field, only to watch in dismay as the cracks continued to spread. “No. No, no!” The shield began to buckle under the pressure. “Inconceivable!” She shrieked as the barrier burst, shattering to bits. Fragments fell on the heads of her loyal followers before disappearing back into the aether, further diminishing and disorienting her forces.

“I think we’ve made a real breakthrough, Chrysalis,” Hammer said, a smirk still on his face.

“JUST WHO ARE YOU?” She roared as she launched a deadly beam of green magic at the earth pony. “I want the Humans!”

Hammer Strike simply took a step to the left. The beam crashed into the ground where he once stood and the patch melted under the onslaught. It continued to dig at the ground hitting the stone wall, damaging it as well until Chrysalis cut the power.

“The name is Hammer Strike, and I’m sorry to say, but we have higher priorities on our list, so if you could just get lost, that’d be great. But if you don’t want to, don’t worry, I’m sure we can set up a nice funeral for you .”

She smiled as another wave of Changelings came from the woods. “I’ll overrun you all and put you in feeding cocoons!” She growled as she leaped back, raising the barrier again, only to pause in confusion. A pony shaped impression jutted against her shield. She grinned and formed the shield around him.

Hammer Strike grinned back. “Oh, I love it when they resist,” he said as blue fire burst from his hooves.

In the air, the Changelings were starting to gain the upper hoof. The Gryphon Slayers were moving back, however a few flyers from the first class that had been taught by the Humans were standing their ground. One Thestral was weaving in and out, using the wing blades to cut through the chitin and leaving wounds all over the place, doing his best to buy time. He grunted as one turn brought pain to his wing. He was really pushing his limbs. Sensing his weakness, three changelings charged simultaneously, pushing him into the same move, only tighter and harder. He grunted in pain as his wing locked up and he spiraled down. He nearly panicked until he forced himself to focus on the ground. He took a breath in and out and landed with a trot, running over a fallen changeling before a second divebombed him. He felt the scratches, but he got up despite the fatigue and quickly began to swing around his new opponent. Finishing off his foe, he turned at the sound of thundering hooves. He saw more Changelings coming from the woods. “How many bugs are there?” He yelled before lowering his head and moving to attack again.

Rook had been separated from the rest of the Rohirrim and he was already noting where the fight was going. The club he wielded had grown heavy in his hooves and he was surrounded at all times. Still, he swung onward, every blow leading to a thud and another Changeling dead on the ground. This style of club was so efficient, yet so misleadingly thin. Without realizing it, Rook found his mind wandering. Grif had been right to suggest it to him. What was that name again? A kinabo? kanabo? Rook realised what he was doing and shook himself as he fought onwards. Finally he was tackled from above and his club went rolling. More changelings moved to restrain him, spewing goo to seal his hooves together.

“The queen says not to kill him. He is a captain. He is useful,” a larger, somewhat spiker changeling said as one of the underlings was about to go for the kill. Instead, the changeling smacked Rook’s head with it’s hoof, rendering the world black.

The barrier surrounding Hammer Strike warped and swelled, disfiguring the appearance of the Pony it held captive as his magic raged within like a cartoon detonation. Eventually the barrier burst like one of Pinkie Pie’s confetti balloons and Hammer Strike was free. He casually dusted off a hoof as he looked to the Changeling Queen expectantly.

“How? How are you doing this?” Chrysalis glared. “I defeated Celestia! A mere Earth Pony can’t possibly stand against me.”

“Well, this mere Earth Pony is going to hit you so hard your children are going to feel it.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Chrissy, you have no idea who you’re talking to, but you should.”

“I fear no pony,” she snarled back.

“I’m no pony,” Hammer started as the flames grew around him, it’s color turning into a dark blue. “I’m your greatest nightmare,” he finished, his tone as dark as his grin.

Chrysalis smirked, then she chuckled before breaking into full on maniacal laughter. “A nightmare, you say? You look more like a candle to me.” Her eyes narrowed. “Now you’re going to do exactly as I say, or I’ll have my changelings dispatch one of your precious captains. You wouldn’t want that, now, would you?”

“What do you want?”

“I want those humans you’re protecting. Give them to me!”

“I’m surprised. I didn’t know you were deaf,” Hammer told her. “When I took you through the window, did it damage your hearing?”

“You!” Chrysalis seethed as the connection finally clicked. She hit him with the full force of her hate filled glare. Just then, a tiny flaming pebble smacked against her muzzle before it fizzled out on the ground next to her. “What--?”

Thunder retorted above them as the sky filled with black clouds that looked almost like ash. With a roar, a fireball the size of a soccer ball launched from the sky, slamming into a changeling near Chrysalis, then another larger fireball, then another still larger until the clouds seemed to rain down with the very flames of Tartarus. Magic was clearly at work as none seemed to hit a single pony.

“Chrysalis!” a voice roared as two changelings and one drone went flying over her head. “I’ve got a bone to pick with you!” With horn blazing like the star on his flank, Vital Spark advanced. A shield spell had been cast close behind him where an unconscious Black Rook lay. A yellowish white Unicorn with a fiery mane and tail strode next to him as they walked together, her amulet reflecting the flames in her form.

She narrowed her eyes for a moment before they widened. “Impossible!” She stepped back, jerking her head as the remaining Changelings began to fall back, retreating as some took to the air. Chrysalis soon followed them. “You might have bested me this time, but I will return!” She swore as she retreated with her hive. The siege had been broken. The ponies had won.

Silver Spear turned from his post, where he had been backed into the corner. He paused as he blinked. “Impossible.” He muttered as the flaming horse closed her eyes and the fires died to reveal her original blue and grey coat coloration. “But--” He paused. “She was hiding in that stone statue?”

“Soldier, there are dead who need to be prepared for burial or cremation immediately,” Clover said, turning crisply to Silver Spear. “See to it.”

Silver Spear nodded his head with a salute. “Gryphon Slayers on me,” he ordered. He began moving as soldiers formed up around him. He made a grimace at the Unicorn lying dead at the bottom of the steps. “Stone Block,” he muttered. He slowly waved his horn in a pattern over the body before moving forward.

“Lord Hammer Strike.” Clover turned to the Earth Pony lord and nodded. “I hope I wasn’t intruding, but it seemed like your troops were tired.”

“I’m glad you showed up when you did, Clover. New Unity isn’t what it used to be.” He sighed before turning to Clover. “You were put in stone long ago. Who was able to bring you out and cure you?”

“A young mare. She was blue, but it appeared she was having trouble with dark magic corruption. She absorbed the poison and took my place. ... I was unable even to learn her name before she died.”

“Her name was Trixie,” Vital Spark said as the light of his horn died. The pain in his eyes was only too clear as the anger died. “She was prideful, arrogant, stupid … but she changed at the end. Well … except maybe on that last one.” The tears fell even as he looked to Hammer Strike. “Guess you couldn’t protect me after all, huh, Hammer Strike?”

Hammer Strike gaze turned towards the forest and sighed heavily. “Death follows us all. There was never a way to avoid it, only to delay it.”

“What year is it, Lord Hammer Strike?” Clover asked. “How long have I slept?”

“It’s been a little over a thousand years.”

Clover gasped in a manner very similar to a certain purple Alicorn. “Discord’s seal is going to break! We have to prepare,” she responded as she moved to pull out an inkwell, phoenix feather pen, and a roll of parchment to write a letter.

“Already dealt with him, and threatened to kill him if he didn’t play nice,” Hammer replied.

“You did?” She asked, dumbfounded. “Then what about Nightmare Moon?”

“Already been cleansed,” Vital said.

“.... The crystal empire, did that come back as well?” Clover asked with a level gaze.

“That’s how we got to where we are now,” Hammer continued.

“The building war with the Gryphons?” She turned and yelped as two Gryphons flew over her head.

“Conquered and dealt with in the usual style,” Vital alternated.

“... The minotaur’s conflict with the Zebricans?” she asked, grasping at straws.

“Done with.”

“Yakyakistan?” she started.

“Hey,” Hammer Strike said suddenly. “You know what the Doctor says about spoilers.”

“Ah, so that time period.” She looked to Vital. “Would you please fetch Trixie’s body? I have some things to say to Lord Hammer Strike.” Vital nodded numbly as he clopped back to the castle.

She spoke the next question in Draconic. “So, who wields the elements?”

“Six ponies wield them: Twilight Sparkle, Applejack, Rarity Belle, Fluttershy, Pinkie Pie, and Rainbow Dash,” Hammer replied, pausing with each name, translating it into Draconic.

“Well, I must say, I hope this Sparkle is better than the Sparkles in the past. Arrogant herd, the lot of them. Are they still nobles?”

“Most nobles are better now…” Hammer started before he paused. “Correction, they are still bad, but aren’t really a threat.”

“Good,” Clover responded. “Celestia finally defanged them. They never let me do my research in peace. Had to take up with that time traveler just to get a spell done.”

“Helps that I knocked them down a few pegs.”

“TRIXIE!” Twilight materialized in a purple flash.

“Twilight, now really isn’t the best time,” Hammer Strike called out as he turned towards her.

“Hammer Strike, Trixie teleported here, is she ok? Was she hurt in the battle?” Twilight asked.

“I know she teleported here. I sent her into the keep to keep her from harm, but she sought it out herself.”

“What happened?” Twilight frowned as she fluffed her wings in agitation.

“She’s dead,” Hammer told her bluntly.

Twilight sat down in shock, crushing the body of one of the changelings. “But, no.” She shook her head. “Nonononononono” She repeated to herself over and over again. “I was going to apologize to her. I was even going to teach her what I learned about Friendship.”

“Your friend was very brave.” Clover laid a hoof on Twilight’s shoulder. “I only wish I could have known her better.”

“She--” Twilight furrowed her brow. “I want to attend her funeral.” She looked hard at Hammer Strike. “After that, I want your battle mages to teach me all they know. I will not let another of my friends stay in danger. And after I get a grasp on things, I want a sparring match.”

“Sparring match with who?” Hammer asked.

“Everypony I can. I plan to go longer than Celestia eventually against you.” She stomped a hoof. “If I knew more, maybe this wouldn’t have happened.”

“Battle magic will only get you so far,” Clover said. “But if you want to learn, I’ll teach you.”

“Then I am your student,” Twilight responded, her expression grave.

Clover’s horn ignited and in a flash a staff appeared in the air, hovering in her magic. It was made of wood with a blue orb imbedded in the far end. Tendrils wrapped around to hold it in place. On the opposing end was a large, rounded spiked ball. The ancient Unicorn gave the staff a few experimental waves before idly tossing a fireball at hammerstrike to test its enchantments.

“Remind me, why do you constantly hit me?” Hammer questioned.

“Because you can take it.” She smiled. “World of cardboard, remember?”

“No.”

“You will.” Clover smirked.

Hammer Strike felt a tap on his shoulder. A slight chill went through his body. “Huh, trying to stop my heart again, Death?” He asked as he turned to look at the figure to his left.

“I did,” the cloaked figure responded from behind him.

“Not you again,” Clover muttered under her breath, a slight smirk on her muzzle.

“Sorry, Death, but you’re losing your touch.”

“I cannot help if a life is exchanged for a life in magic. That is something even I can’t supersede.”

“I don’t blame you for it.” Hammer sighed. “While you’re here, how many casualties?”

“Ten dead, sixteen wounded. Six of those will not make it past the week,” Death responded as if reading from a report. “I’m sorry for your loss,” he finished in the same monotone voice.

“You’re not sorry, it’s part of your job.”

“I’m at least trying to be sympathetic.” Death frowned.

“You're just scared Hammer Strike’s gonna punch you again, aren't you?” Clover asked.

“How dare you imply that I am scared of a mortal being,” Death spoke, showing a tiny flicker of annoyance.

“Ahem,” Hammer Strike’s brows furrowed.

“... I’m Terrified,” Death squeaked.

“Who are you all talking to?” Twilight asked, confused as she walked with the others as she looked to the empty space the other two ponies were talking to.

---

Pensword stood by the sidelines of the clan hall as Gryphons, fledglings, and the head family alike gawked and gossipped. His troops had gathered around him, looking nervously as they did their best to remain calm. Suddenly, Pensword felt a familiar prickling down his mane as an eddy danced around his hooves. Looking to the edge of the hall, the massive door stood cracked open as the darkness waited beyond. Pensword nodded as he began to move through the hall, a small number of his troops following behind to act as escort. At last he arrived and prepared to make his way through the door.

“You three stay here,” he ordered.

“But sir!”

“No arguments, Midnight. There’s someone who wants to talk to me. I need you to guard the doors so we are not disturbed.

Midnight nodded as the gears clicked in his head. He saluted smartly, then turned around as the other two thestrals flanked him, waiting casually, even as they kept their eyes on the crowd.

Pensword steeled himself as he walked fully into the hallway, shutting the door behind him as the darkness of night surrounded him. The inside of this gryphon stronghold reminded him very much of the caves back in Equestria and helped to calm him as his eyes slitted to night vision. He looked around. “Alright, fall in and report,” he ordered as his voice carried down the halls. A black Thestral with a dark blue mane specked with silver slowly walked out of the shadows of the dark. His expression was grave and the blood on his armor told of battle.

“Commander, Lieutenant Jet Black reporting, sir.” He saluted with a wing as he stood at attention.

“At ease, Lieutenant. Report what happened,” Pensword said, taking on his most used hat, that of Commander for all Equestrian forces. “Who do I need to attack to avenge our fallen comrades?”

“Queen Chrysalis returned while you were gone and laid siege to the castle. Ten of us died in the attack. Vital Spark ... “ he faltered. “He isn’t doing so well.”

“Of course he isn’t handling it. He is a civilian. The good news is he lived through the attack, right?”

“He killed six changelings and took out two scavengers and a drone. You would have been proud.” He smiled sadly.

“Lieutenant, I can find out about Vital Spark when I return home. What I need to know is details on the battle and force strength on the Rogue Hive.” He took a steadying breath.

“She’s managed to reconstitute her forces to twice the size of her original hive. After the battle was over, her forces had been reduced by half before she retreated. Clover the Clever burned the majority of the exterior forces, and Trixie … actually, I don’t know where she is. She’s supposed to be with us, but--” he shrugged.

“She must be saying her own goodbyes,” Pensword muttered. “Still, I will give the report.” He pulled out a scroll from his saddlebag. “May I have the names of those we lost?”

While he spoke, a lone Gryphon watched in confusion from an alcove as the Demon talked to thin air writing a list.

---

Grif was still dazed and confused as he sat in Garrus’ study behind the large mahogany desk, staring at the Gryphon in question. Garrus tented his talons as he gazed over his desk at the young clan leader, raven to raven. The jovial expression remained for about a minute longer before he let it drop. “As humorous as your dumbfounded expression is, Grif, we have things that need to be discussed. And they need to be kept private. He flicked a crystal embedded in the perch of a Gryphon figure crouched to pounce on his desk. It quickly turned green.

“I--I’m sorry, it’s just that your daughter is a very convincing actress,” Grif said. “I wasn’t aware Gryphonia had any of the Crystal Empire’s technology,” he said as his eyes darted to the crystal.

“A relic from a bygone age made new again.” Garrus chuckled. “After the Crystal Empire vanished, our clan performed some scouting and discovered a hidden cache of crystals. It had space for three, but only two remained along with a few other artifacts. As a reward for our service and diligence, we were given one and the other relics were kept by the Emperor.”

“As of Holy Empress Warbeak, the first decree any dowry required of a marriage is to be paid to the female in question. You realise I can’t offer you money in these negotiations, correct?” Grif asked him.

“If I wanted to talk about money and dowry, do you really think I would have bothered with this?” Garrus asked, motioning to the crystal.

“Then please tell me what it is you want. Name it and you can have it.”

“I want a guarantee,” Garrus said as his eyes hardened.

“What guarantee?” Grif asked suspiciously. “If you actually think I’m trying to lea--” Garrus raised a quieting hand as he reached under his desk and flicked a secret catch. A compartment popped open and he reached in to pull out a very familiar tome. He let it drop on the table, smacking the catch shut.

“Oh. Thats what this is about,” Grif said, looking at the grimoire.

“I assume my daughter’s told you about my little event a few years back,” Garrus said. Grif nodded. “She’s been practicing again; I know it.” He sighed heavily. “Avalon was always a special girl, but now she may be the only Gryphon alive, aside from you, who can actually use magic. I want you to get her out of Gryphonia before she’s found out and as far away as possible. The Winds have plans for her, Grif.” Garrus frowned. “And maybe someone else besides. You know the law as well as I do. You know what will happen if she’s caught.”

“Unless she were in some sort of protected position.” Grif nodded. “It was why I was going to request the ceremony tonight if possible. Tomorrow if not.”

“We have to observe tradition. The wedding will be tomorrow, after the women have had time to prepare.” As he said this, the grimoire vanished with a pop and he sighed. “Gone back to her already, I see.” Then he walked over to stand by the younger Gryphon. “I’m glad we understand each other, but now we need to talk on a somewhat graver matter.”

“The same grave matter that befalls our culture every three hundred years?” Grif asked.

“Unfortunately yes,” Garrus said as he looked to the mantelpiece in his office. “Only this one is coming a couple of centuries early. You know that I was poisoned, correct?”

“I assumed that when I finally reconciled Avalon was your daughter.” Grif nodded. “I’m guessing you are a loyalist, then?”

“I am. My clan and I were ready to support the Emperor’s parents to the death if need be. The meeting of the clans was a meeting of the Kings and their subsidiaries. For services rendered, my clan and I had been granted a degree of autonomy. Our loyalties are our own, as is our land. As you can guess, the meeting focused on one thing and one thing only. Treason. I refused and managed to bluff my way out of the meet. Unfortunately, they also knew the danger I posed. If it weren’t for Avalon and the blessing of the Winds, I would have died. As it stood, I failed in my duty. Daedalus’ father was slaughtered, his mother burned at the stake. And I could do nothing.” Garrus slammed his fist against the wall. Then he sighed.

“My daughter saved my life that day, and I can still fight thanks to her. But I am not the warrior I once was. The poison left me weakened. I cannot raise my mace in the defense of the Emperor any more. At most I can only advise him.”

“Are there allies you could call to?” Grif asked, his expression grim. “If you mean to ask of me what I think you do, you need to understand I can’t assure his safety alone.”

“I wasn’t the only one poisoned. Unfortunately, unlike me, Tyrannus didn’t survive. His son will fight to the death to avenge his father’s murderers. Seek out Jorund Bloodfeather. His clan will give you aid.

Grif jolted. “What was that name?”

“Jorund Bloodfeather, head of the Bloodfeather Clan.”

“Lord Farflyer, I was there when the last of the Bloodfeather line was destroyed! The last of the Bloodfeathers became my wife recently.” He looked at Garrus in disbelief. “How?”

“The house never died, at least not truly. A distant member by the name of Duskclaw Grimfeather made claim on the title and re-established the clan. Ever since then, they’ve remained staunch supporters of the Empire, and more importantly, the Emperor.”

“That will be hard for my companion to take,” Grif said ominously. “I don’t know if you’re aware, but Jorund Bloodfeather was the name of the Gryphon who led the attack against his village. They killed and ate everyone there.” Grif looked at Garrus with a steady gaze. “I hope that Farflyers didn’t partake in such a custom during the war.”

Garrus shuddered. “Out of respect to our distant clan members of the Northern Isles, our clan refrained from the practice. But I am sorry to say many in the clan were executed for breaking the edict.” He sighed heavily.

“Your clan’s adherence to justice is admirable.” Grif nodded in approval. “Daedalus has been kind to me where he honestly should never have been. Also, it is against my belief for one so young to be cut down without a chance. If the enemy should become known to me while I am in a place to aid him, I will put my soul into his survival. Consider it a gift for my future father-in-law.” Grif smiled. “That is, assuming I do have your blessing?”

Garrus grinned. “Did you really have to ask?”

“And the belt?” Grif asked him. “It is unfortunate, but part of a larger plan.”

“Grif, I’d give anything for Avalon’s safety. And you’ve chosen to help me where I could do nothing. To keep the belt now would be selfish and petty. It’s of great value to our family, but if the Avatar of Winds needs it, I think the family can bear the burden of that honor.”

“You realise I cannot guarantee when or truly if your paths shall cross again? Our way out of the empire will likely not allow us to stop here.”

“You needn’t fear. I know the price of war only too well. Just take good care of her. Who knows, maybe I’ll even come to Equestria to visit. See how it’s changed over the last couple of centuries.”

“I would join my hand with yours in friendship, then,” Grif offered Garrus his hand. “Lord Grif Farflyer.” He smiled as he used the Gryphon’s proper name.

“Woah there, Grif, we don’t want you going too soft on me now, do we?” Garrus chuckled as he took Grif’s hand in his own. “Done, then.”

“Tomorrow at dawn. It is rushed, but it’s all the time we can spare.”

“We’ll be ready. But let’s get out and tell the good news to the rest, shall we? I’m sure they’re waiting with bated breath.” Garrus smirked.

Grif chuckled. “I can hardly wait.”

---

Vital Spark led Hammer Strike back along the dark passageways as they made their way through the cold stone halls of the castle. The damage the Changelings had left behind was horrendous and several sticky green stains marked the halls and walls alongside the occasional shard of chiton. At last they arrived before the door and Vital pushed it open with a hoof, holding it open wordlessly for Hammer to follow inside. The flowers were still there, untouched and beautiful as they filled the room with their gentle fragrance. Trixie lay in her silent repose, almost as if she were sleeping with her purple cape and hat.

“There she is,” Vital said.

Hammer Strike hushed him as he looked around the room, his ear twitching every now and then as he focused. Shrugging, Vital simply walked over to Trixie and watched as he recalled the events of the last twenty four hours.

“Do you hear that?” Hammer questioned Vital.

“What?” Vital asked, his eyes never leaving Trixie’s face.

“Hold your breath.”

“Seriously, Shawn?”

“Hold, it.”

Vital groaned, sighed, then did as he was told when Hammer Strike gave him his famous stare.

Hammer Strike looked around the room slowly, his eyes constantly shifting around every object and brick before they settled on Vital. His brows furrowed as he stared at him only to open his eyes wide as his gaze shifted to Trixie. He moved over quickly towards her body before leaning in closer. “Conor.”

“Shawn,” Vital said in a warning tone, “I swear, if you’re pulling my leg, I’m going to kill you.”

“She’s not dead,” he finished as he twisted the gem on his wrist, shifting to his human form. He reached a hand down towards her neck, applying faint pressure as he moved his hand around. “She has a pulse.”

Shawn looked at Vital once again. “Quick, did you learn or hear something of what was killing Clover?”

Vital shook his head sadly. “All Trixie said was to save Clover she had to take her fate, and that something was making her sick.”

“What kind of sick, what did she do to heal Clover?”

“I don’t know, alright?” Vital shouted. “She didn’t tell me. All I know is the air smelled when she drew whatever it was into her body.”

“Into her?” Shawn questioned, mainly to himself as he tapped his thumb to his fingers.

“I’m guessing. I didn’t see it. She kept quiet until I looked when the changelings were about to break through.”

Shawn’s eyes flashed blue for a brief moment as he looked at Trixie before he snapped his fingers and pointed to the door. “Quickly, get Clover and Twilight. Bring them to my forge. As fast as you can,” he said as he picked the limp Pony up, tromping over the flowers as he did so. “I’m going to prove to Death that his list isn’t always right.”

---

The air around New Unity was filled with a horrid stench that destroyed the appetite of anyone inside or outside the walls of the fortress. Changelings were piled together in a heap and put to flame. The enemy was given no funerary rights, no honor, just an end for those who had done so much damage and caused so much heartache.

Of the defenders of the Bladefeather compound, only one gryphon, a blacksmith who had only enough time to pick up his mace and join the front lines, had been killed. The Bladefeathers had prepared the body carefully, having oiled the feathers in a fragrant scent before wrapping it in a fresh bear hide, holding his mace between his talons with his wings cloaked over his form. He was buried below ground as incense was burned into the wind around the grave. Several pieces of chitin were placed over the body to recognise the seven changelings he had killed.

The Thestrals who had not gone with Pensword gathered in their community as they wailed over the two who had died. They would mourn for the next four days. The funeral itself would happen at Midnight, at the apex of the moon’s course through the heavens. The night sky shone brightly as a mournful, cold wind blew to clear out the stench.

While Jet Black had not been of the Dream Clan, it fell to them to bury him and notify his Clan and Tribe of his valiant efforts and where he would be laid to rest. After receiving permission from Lord Hammer Strike, four Thestral warriors dug a six foot hole that was two feet wide. Along the wall, the wing blades and spears of the fallen were lain.

The bodies themselves were laid on their backs, the leathery wings wrapped around their bodies like a cape. Each of them had two silver bits placed over their eyes. They then were wrapped individually within a tent canvas and lowered into the pit. Afterwards, their armor was lowered to lay proudly on top of them. With that finished, ceremonial bearers lowered an ornate metal plate into a cleverly carved groove three feet into the hole to seal the bodies in their makeshift tombs. Etched on the plate, radiating with the moon’s rays, were the soldiers’ names, their rank in Society, and a poem of their deeds in battle, along with a deathly warning to any who may disturb their earthly remains.

Afterwards, the friends and family would walk past and toss a carved stone representing wishes and final farewells to the departed. The sound of the stone hitting the metal was equated to a blade hitting a shield, a sign of respect to warriors of valour in recognition of their heroic actions in the line of duty. When all was said and done, eight somber Thestrals, four to each hole, proceeded to shovel the dirt midst the tears of loss. The sound of the dirt rang like thunder until the metal and stones were properly covered. Lastly, they placed a flat stone at the edge of the grave with the names of the fallen engraved on it.

The three Unicorns who had been killed in the battle had each been laid atop a large wooden pyre. Their front legs were crossed over their chests and once again a silver bit was placed over their eyes before they were covered in a shroud bearing the mark of the squad in which they had served. The unicorns closest to each victim approached the pyre and lit it with their magic as they prayed a safe journey for their souls to Faust in the Spring Fields where they could rest from all cares.

The remaining troops sighed with some relief, knowing that those to whom the duty of lighting the Pyre had fallen were already in New Unity, either for a visit, or settling in to live. To Unicorns, the longer they waited to light the Pyre, the longer it denied their loved one entrance into the Spring Fields, and the release of their magic back to the Earth. Tradition dictated a Unicorn could not be burned until close family were present for the funeral.

The two Earth Ponies had been prepared for burial and were currently both inside a fitting wooden coffin. Around them the other earth ponies and close friends sung songs and talked about the good times with their fallen comrades as they celebrated the lives lived by them.

As they talked, they held a solemn air. Each of the bodies had a small shroud wrapped at their hooves, while at their side, a close friend or family member carved a piece of wood into a tool they used in their time on the earth. In another room a table was laid out with simple food and drink. At all times the body was attended to. The actual funeral and burying of the body would occur at dawn on the day when all family could be present.

The Pegasi were placed within two specially manufactured thunder clouds that had been acquired from Cloudsdale. Once activated, the lighting would spark internally, cremating the body. Once each body was carefully placed and covered, the shaping of the clouds could begin. The shaping always took the form of a long, slender vessel. As the Pegasi felt their souls would sail the sky, they gave it a vessel to rest in. It had two long necks at each end shaped like dragons, while rounded shapes akin to shields were “mounted” on the side. Within the vessel itself, shaped containers of food, water urns, weapons, tools they had used in life, and finally, their family shields were carefully crafted. They moved slowly. All the while the rumble of thunder from tiny sparks surrounded the workers as they continued to shape and mold. The deceased lay peacefully, patiently nearby as their new spiritual vessels formed around their bodies.

When each vessel was finished the Pegasi stood together, each placing a feather from their own wings upon the departing souls’ vessel before the closest to the deceased bucked the cloud to activate the lighting and the cloud ship was sent off to drift in the winds. A mournful air played on a trumpet as they saluted the soldiers. When all was said and done, the troops and family joined together once more to grieve as one herd. All were well loved, and all would be dearly missed.

Comments

[Booster Spice]

Very stressful.

Once more, through the realities, Avalon was saved by the Merlin, through times past and yet to come.

Trixie managed to drag Clover back, but succumbed herself, but was the illness mentioned, or is it a Juliet, as the only way to escape? Enough to notify Pensword, but enough to continue? I know Ive seen the effect before, but I cant remember where.

Are we going to be seeing a happy wedding tomorrow, or will it be a standard Equestrian wedding, where all sorts of major attacking forces call in yet again.

Hammerstrike barely got time to even start warming up with Chrysalis, and I still wonder how dangerous Rarity would be surrounded by a cloud of white hot tungsten flechettes, as in an army attacks, and within a few seconds a few hundred impacts occur against a few hundred targets, or even Dash drops a tornado first, wind speeds far higher than almost any flyer can handle, followed by a compactification rainboom. Pinkie, Im not even going to try what she can do with flour and water. Given against the shere overwealming numbers against them, these guys were Zulud, and kept fighting.

The worse part of any clean up. Finding out the details. Even if its from those in the last authority. Remembering those with honors and offerings. For our tomorrows, they gave their todays.

Im just wondering, was it the flowers, and with Hammerstriike in the forge, is he thinking of getting personal again? Forget Chess or Twister, he is considering playing Whack A Death?

[Bast]

A very emotional and well told chapter. Stuff is about to hit the fan if that gryphon is of any note.

[Vital Spark]

6355148

It sure looks that way, doesn't it? I'm glad you enjoyed the chapter. We're very proud of these last couple we've posted. Hopefully the next one will be just as good to you.

[Vital Spark]

6355105

Glad you made the connection to Arthurian Lore, Booster. As for the illness, it's magical in nature. As for notifying Pensword, let's just say it's like when Pensword saw Grif briefly at the Crystal Empire so long ago.

The wedding isn't going to be Equestrian. It's a Gryphonian wedding. You'll need to take that into account. As for how dangerous the mane six are, for now the only one who'd be a major player might be Rarity since she's grown so proficient in the rapier. The others don't have much combat experience, as Grif mentioned in the coronation chapter. Love your last joke with Whack A Death. XD Not sure about your question involving flowers though. Do you mean to ask if Hammer Strike will get involved with Trixie? Or what did you mean by "is he thinking of getting personal again?"

[Booster Spice]

6355234

Not just Arthurion lore, where some say Merlyn, but also its the 75th anniversary of the darkest day of The Battle Of Britain, where the heros were supported by wood and steel,

and Rolls Royce Merlin engines.

The Griffon engine was only slightly later, but held speed records till 1980, and was used in the Shackleton reconnascence aircraft, one of the toughest ever. As in, a 4 engined plane that could fly on one engine.

Oops, late at night again.

If this is how messy it is now, Id hate to see what its like in the next loop.

Can we just drop Hammerstrike on Crysalis hive and pound it into submission. That is, what non evapourated remains are left?

[HB_DS2013]

These three keep on defying death. They might as well be gods of destruction by now.

[Commander_Pensword]

6355604

All I have to say is wait and see, wait and see.

6355775

HB, I can assure you. If you have seen half the stuff we have with what just humans have defied death on? I think you would say we are a little tame in what has happened, as well as what can really be survived on. Still, thank you for your wonderful comment.

I shall also repeat what I told Booster, you ain't seen nothing yet.

((Yes I can use Contractions.))

[Biker_Dash]

John 15:13
Greater love hath no man than this, that he lay down his life for his brothers.

Go rest high upon the mountain, my brothers, for your work here is finished, and you have been called home.

[Vital Spark]

6355604

I'm afraid that would be too easy. Besides, we're supposed to be the good guys. We have to show her some degree of mercy. That, and Hammer Strike needs some degree of entertainment and distraction from time to time.

As for messiness, yes. Things are about to get messy. Very, very messy.

[Biker_Dash]

6373601 Wood, steel, fiberglass?
What material specifically?

[BronyofMeddlers]

Well, you all are on a roll, Clover is alive, Trixie will be alive, Grif is getting another girl, Chryiss got her flank handed to her again, and politics are deadly as ever....Yet a smile is on my face, laughter is coming out of the chapter as this isn't over just yet. And it was amusing to see Death fear Shawn/Hammer.

[Commander_Pensword]

6381631

Yeah, things will keep moving forward.

The next chapter is a doozy.

Also, yes, so much happens and will happen, and I am happy to see that you are enjoying your time and having and finding the laughter. I am happy you can see the hope that is there.

[Mortefleur]

And so it was that the lone shows mare learned the greatest of Virtues, sacrifice. Laying down her own life so that others may be spared the grim finalities of the world for war, war never changes.

[Inertial]

An interesting selection of traditions.

[Icy Creation]

Against his will, Vital Spark smirked and barely suppressed a chuckle. “Um … was that supposed to happen?” he asked. The light, cheerful personality Trixie had seen earlier had all but vanished and a dark paul seemed to have come in its place, but for that one moment, a bit of that cheerful Unicorn shined through like a cloud opening to let the sun in before closing again.

Well than. I already know who Spark's going to be shipped with.

[Teraunce]

He nodded only once as the door returned to its original state before he followed mutely after the Unicorn from legend. He had imagined this kind of scenario a hundred if not a thousand times in his mind before he was even dragged to Equestria. He’d lost family and loved ones before. It didn’t matter in the slightest. His imagining was nothing compared to the actual thing. Despite the fires Clover exuded, he felt cold as they passed through the halls. Mournful cries echoed from the very stones themselves as a brisk wind whistled through the cracks almost seeming to say “She’s dead. She’s dead. She’s dead.”

You better not have killed her for real or I'll have to get all medieval on your heineys.