The Wayfarers

by TheFictionAddiction

Act 2, Chapter 31: Battle Born

Everyone was armed in seconds. Swords flew from sheaths like startled birds. The Royal Guards glanced at one another. They remained atop their overturned stagecoach, timid and unsure.

The ambush party was nearly halfway down the hillside and advancing rapidly. A storm of galloping hooves and steel would be upon them in only a matter of seconds.

“Sir!” a mare cried. “Orders?”

Speckled Band was pulling himself up out of the carriage. Heads turned in tandem towards the Corporal, eyes expecting. Speckled Band blinked against the strong winds. He had no more than a second to survey the situation before someone broke rank.

A figure leapt from the carriage and hit the ground running. They were off in an instant, sprinting towards the oncoming wave. Speckled Band galked at the pony. Whoever it was, they didn’t wear the gold of the Guard. Wait...

That cloak… that tiny frame… that’s right...

Speckled Band gritted his teeth. He had completely forgotten about Speira.

Mustering his courage, Speckled Band turned towards his comrades. “Everypony, ready yourselves for battle!”

Fellow soldier stared at the Corporal, stunned. A second later they remembered the weapons they held. This would be the first time any of that Equestrian steel would be used outside of training. Suddenly those swords held an ominous weight that hadn’t been there before.

Out on the field, Speira’s heart knocked restlessly in her chest. The mechanism of her body were relentless and untiring. Though Speira was in a dead gallop, every inhale was smooth and calculated. She dipped her chin to quickly work the clasp of her cloak with her mouth.

Their numbers are staggered, Quill said to her, his voice a soothing stream over the rapids of her biology. Punish their eagerness, then wait for assistance. Don’t get surrounded.

A stallion at the head of the enemy’s vanguard marked the filly with pleasure. He grinned around the handle of the sword. A red lust lifted elevated his heart. He’d make quick work of the pipsqueak and claim first blood.

They were upon each other in an instant. The marauder swung his sword, bringing it down with all of his strength and momentum. The blade cleaved clean through the cloak. That murderous grin vanished as the he watched two strips of cloth flutter to the ground.

A flicker in his peripheral was all the warning the marauder had before the tip of Speira’s wing sunk into his jugular. The marauder’s face peeled back in anguish. Speira jerked and uncorked the stallion like a wine bottle. A wave of warmth drenched the right side of Speira’s face.

The charge skidded to a halt. The vanguard, a cluster of three now, stared in wonder at the filly crouching over their dead comrade. Enchanted wings unfurled on either side of her. One steamed with fresh blood. It was like something from a dream.

Or perhaps a nightmare.

“The fuck kind of armor is that?” one asked, shifting. He glanced towards the stallion to his left.

Silver blinked, then shook his head.“Doesn’t matter. Just stay alert and-”

A shadow fell upon the stallion a second or so before the pegasus did. There was an explosion of steel as the marauder was driven to the ground. Beneath the pegasus, Silver lay motionless.

“Captain!”

The first marauder hefted his sword and started forward. He managed a single step before the earth slanted sideways and sent him toppling. The stallion howled as he clutched a bloody foreleg. It had been severed at the knee.

Speira spared nary a second before ending the stallion’s misery. With a flick of the wing, the stallion went limp. He wore the same bleeding necklace as his companion.

Speckled Band rose, the marauder crumpled beneath him. Staring at the body he had skewered, Speckled fought back a wave of revulsion.

“Get ready.”

Speckled jumped at the voice. At his side, Speira stood with her back to him. She was between him and the body of marauders.

Sweet Celestia, she’s quick.

The attackers stood some yards away from the pair, uncertain and hesitant. Whether it was the sight of Speira’s armor or the loss of their captain, Speckled cared not. With every passing second, an encroaching rumble of hooves was growing louder behind them.

A unicorn mare had shouldered her way to the front of the party. Her horn glowed a livid shade of magenta. In the grip of her magic was a dagger.

“Don’t just stand around, ya idjits!” she screamed and then flung the dagger.

It sailed, end over end, in a perfect arc. Speira slapped it out of the air. It clanged harmlessly off one wing. Speira glanced at Speckled, her gaze sharp and venomous.

Is she scolding me?

“For Equestria!” The air shook with the battle cry. Speckled Band couldn’t help but shiver at the sound.

Their comrades were close now. Speira and Speckled Band heard their approach, but could almost feel the rumble in the ground. The marauders responded to their advance in kind.

“Leave none alive!” the unicorn cried. She would lead the heard of death in place of the silver haired stallion.

Speckled Band bent down and took hold of his sword. Warm blood gushed into his mouth. It was only the buzz of adrenaline that kept him in control of gorge. He wretched the sword from the marauder’s neck and faced the oncoming tide.

Speira was off in a cloud of white powder. In her head, visions of Quill’s corpse growing stiff in the snow were saturated in a film of searing rage. A hornets nest broiled in her belly and came buzzing up her throat. Speira knew not that she was screaming.

A shadow rushed past her. Though Speckled Band’s hooves were mere inches from the ground, he flew with the practiced ease of a Wonderbolt.

Winds up there are something else. Strong. Gonna have to stay low.

Though the sky would hold little refuge, at least Speckled Band knew he could rely on gravity. With a snap of his wings, he vaulted up and over the marauders.

Headless of numbers, the Royal Guard and mercanary alike were flung into combat.

****

Heads lifted, almost instinctively. They marked Speckled Band ascent. It would be their fear of an aerial attack that would give Speira her starting point.

Full plate armor would’ve been impractical in this snowy landscape. A lucky advantage that Speira took for all its worth. She came in low, aiming for the distracted ponies legs.

A swipe from each wing and two ponies fell, wailing, into the snow. Although unable to finish them off, Speira was confident neither were be able to do much fighting. She danced back as some of them engaged her.

Though in the throes of battle fever, a tune from an old record player droned on in the furthest reaches of Speira’s mind. She felt Quill’s approving gaze even now. The tune played and her hooves responded. She turned the battlefield into a dancehall.

Cursing and snarling, marauders lashed out with both mushed words and rapid slashes. Speira weaved between blows. She was nimble, even in the snow, and those wings provided an amazing defense.

More circled around her, but wouldn’t get the opportunity to properly flank. The heart of the world thudded like a baseline as a wall Royal Guards slammed into marauders.

Speira was smack dab in the middle of the skirmish. She made herself as small as possible and waded into the Guards ranks. Her retreat wasn’t seamless. Speira was stepped on by a mare with a longsword, then knocked aside by a unicorn chanting a protection spell. A mosh pit closed around her like a metal womb.

It was as the two forces met that Speckled Band plummeted. He dropped onto the marauders like an anchor from the sky.

The impact was enough to stagger a handful of the attackers. It sent them bumping into compatriots, even tripping a few of them. One mare had no more regained her balance when cool steel slipped through a chink in her armor. She blinked. For a brief moment, she met the gaze of the Corporal. The eyes that stared back at him twinkled like swampfire.

Speckled Band’s wretched sword his sword free. Before the blood even had a chance to fall, he had dashed towards another. The Corporal passed through the marauders as if a sickle through wheat.

A hurricane had been released behind the enemy’s line. Speckled moved like humming bird and fought like a wolverine. Those closest were disoriented by a flurry of blows. A mare blocked one strike only for it to be followed one, two, three more. The impacts sent her head ringing and her teeth aching.

Allies were a strange commodity to Speira. Surrounded on all sides, yet none of the blades or spells were aimed at her. For once, the threat lay mostly dead ahead.

However, Speira found it a task to traverse the battlefield. She was used to having room to dance and maneuver. Here she was downright claustrophobic.

Thankfully it seemed that the Royal Guards remembered their training well. They held a solid wall at the skirmish line, protecting each other and striking when it was most opportune.

Their reluctance tested Speira, however. She took it upon herself to make up for their lack of aggression. It was a struggle not to be trampled at first, but she found her rhythm quickly. Speira stalked amongst the skirmish line like a wrath, unseen until sunlight glinted off the steel of her wings.

One Royal Guard reeled from a heavy blow. The marauder saw her falter, and pushed to break her guard. Time slowed as the mare saw her death bearing down-

*clank*

*shink*

The guard watched, stupefied, as the stallion crumpled. Speira felled a few more of the marauders in the same fashion. But for every third or fourth marauder she killed, a Royal Guard fell with them. The battlefield was becoming cluttered.

Removing their leader wasn’t enough, Quill whisper. Given their numbers, I fear they’ll outlast you at this rate. Something needs to be done to turn the tide.

“Turn the tide,” Speira muttered, raising a wing to shield an injured Guards hobble to safety.

Look, Speira. No force is without its faults. Find it, exploit it.

Speira did as instructed. It took a few seconds, but she realized that the marauder’s weren’t pushing the line dispite their superior numbers. Instead, they appeared to be occupied by another battle all together.

Speira squinted through the fray, then blinked. “Is that… the Corporal?”

It’s opportunity, my dear.

Speira nodded. “Opportunity... Alright.”

****

Speckled Band pinballed from blade to blade, allowing no one even an inch of ground. It was as if a pit of vipers had cornered the world’s most vicious mongoose. He was nearly a blur as he parried and countered. The circle of marauders around him could do little more than defend.

“The hell we supposed to do with this guy?” one hollered. “Intelligence didn’t say they actually had any fighters!”

As amazing of a display he made, Speckled Band wouldn’t be keeping this breakneck pace for much longer. Fatigue would catch up sooner or later. Already his muscles felt drenched in molten lead.

Fuck me, this seemed easier in training!

“Let ‘em wear himself out,” another marauder called back. “The hotshot’s slowin’!”

The marauder grinned. He was about to lunge forward when he heard, “Hey! Watch out for the filly!”

That was when something scampered up his back. Speira posed herself over the stallion’s head, wing arched like a cat’s back. She drove it into the marauder’s neck.

“Agh! What the fuck!”

The mare next to them recoiled as an arterial spray splashed in her face, blinding her. Just like that, a hole was made in the curtain of vipers.

The marauder was wiping gore from her eyes when Speckled Band barreled into her. His sword ran her clean through.

“Bastards! Don’t let up on ‘em!”

The onslaught continued. This time Speckled Band didn’t fight alone, however. Speira stayed close, moving like his shadow. The Corporal’s fighting style was unorthodox and erratic, but not without some pattern. Speira was nothing if not a versatile dance partner.

Though Speira was warily let Speckled Band take the lead, he didn’t disappoint. He attacked high as she attacked low. Their strikes were woven together like a tapestry of death, tearing about one marauder after another.

Realizing the danger, more and more of the marauder’s turned to deal with the raging weedwacker at their rear. The battle was suddenly on two fronts.

Together Speira and Speckled Band plowed a bloody path through the attackers. By the time Speckled Band saw the glint of Royal gold, the enemey line had broken from the strain of their attack. The Corporal fell into formation happily, Speira doing likewise. They were both panting heavily.

The Royal Guard learned that day just how elastic time could be inside the haze of battle. The clashing of steel and flashing of magic seemed to go on for hours. In reality, the fight by the northern road lasted no longer than two minutes.

The ambush party had lost nearly three quarters of their numbers. Rallying around the Corporal and the mercenary, the Royal Guard pushed the marauders back towards the snowy hillside. Caution was key when navigating through the bodies strewn about.

Confidant that the battle was won, Speckled Band retreated and sheathed his sword. His comrades moved to seal the gap in their ranks instantly.

“Holt!” he cried. “Holt! Damn it all, everypony stop fighting!”

Like dying thunder, the sound war rumbled on for a second longer before finally petering out. The two sides parted. Between them lie a pond of blood and bodies. Though a few groaned and writhed amongst the gore, most were corpses.

Speckled Band stepped back towards the front. Steam hung about him like an aura. The band of battering and bloodied ponies behind him numbered nine. Only four stood against them.

“Enough of this!” Speckled Band had to raise his voice to be heard over the dying. “For Celestia’s sake, enough. A truce, please! No more killing!”

Speira glared up at him. She could’ve thrashed the stallion for being so stupid. However, she would keep herself in check for the time being. Though her heart yearned to push on ahead to the other caravan, she was still a hired blade.

The marauder's looked at one another. Speckled Band hoped that if the bastards were conniving enough to set up an ambush, then maybe they’d know when they were beat. More than that, who knew what was happening up the road. Speckled Band wanted prisoners if the worst had come to past.

One of the Royal Guards broke from their party. A mare dropped her sword and started dry heaving. Other than that, all was still amongst the two forces.

One marauder’s sheathed their sword. It was a stallion with a pastel coat that barely peeked through his dark barding. When he spoke, it was with an accent Speckled Band wasn’t familiar with.

“Oh, yeah? And what kinda truce can we expect?”

“The kind where we take you into custody. Surrender your weapons, and we’ll see to your injured.”

The stallion spat.

“Not sure what I was expectin’,” he laughed. “Nah, I don’t think so. It’s time you lot learn to finish things for once. If that means ya start with us… so be it. We’ll get to hell soon enough to hold the door for ya.”

Looking to his companions, he cried, “To death!”

The battle cry echoed as they rushed forward. Though Speckled Band was disappointed, he was not dismayed. He took arms and led the charge. Speira raced along side him, the remaining guards in tow.

What came next was quick, but brutal. The stallion who parlaid with Speckled Band lunged at him. Speckled Band parried easily. A quick counterstrike and the stallion was cut down.

Speira despatched the second just as quickly, and the Guards dogpiled the final two. They fell in a hail of steel.

Sudden silence.

The survivors stood stock still amongst the carnage. They glanced about the corpses, seeing familiar faces staring up at them but not seeming to comprehend. One of the guards stumbled away from the battlefield until he found clean snow. There he collapsed.

Speckled Band sheathed his sword. Like most of his comrades, gore decorated him in sproratic splotches. Already he could feel his coat growing sticky with it all. That morning’s breakfast churned like a whirlpool in his belly. Never before had he thought of death as something someone could actually smell.

Swallowing his nerves, Speckled Band he called to his comrades. Some semblance of life stirred within their rattled brains when they heard his voice.

The Corporal relaid orders in rapid succession. “Apricot, Dandy, Garter, see to our injured. The rest of you, we’re mounting up. We need to need to meet-”

Speira only heard half of what Speckled Band said. She jerked head jerked to the hillside. Her eyes widened. Though still in good form, the battle had whittled her down and dulled her keen senses.

“More coming!” Speira shouted. “Two more from the hills!” Her wings unfurled, steel pinions ruffling.

The voice was so rare to his ears that Speckled Band almost didn’t recognize it. It was raw nerves that kept him on his toes. The guards spun, swords drawn.

The rolling hillside was a vast, ivory blanket. It was only after a second or two that they finally spotted the figures.

The pair trudged almost lackilasily through the snow. They were about forty yards away before being spotted.

The first figure, the one to draw the most eyes, stood tall and lanky on its hind legs. Stories of diamond dogs were near mythical this far north. Their numbers were sparce, as the frozen ground made for poor mining. Few, if any, ever dared to ventured from the southern badlands.

And yet, here one stood. Matted white fur stood out beneath the leather armor it wore. A lit cigarette was tucked into the corner of its grinning maw, and a rolled up bundle was clutched in its paw. Only Speira noticed the hilts protruding from the top end.

“Not bad for a bunch of rookies!” A voice, as shrill and sharp as a dagger’s tip, slit through the wintry winds. “Not bad at all!”

This was the second figure. Obviously equine, obviously female. Every word was punctuated with a rattle and clink.

When the pair stopped, they were close enough for everyone to better make her out. The gasped at the nightmarish conglomerate of steel she wore. An array of hooked barbs rose from the many segments of armor like devilish burrs. It seemed you cut yourself simply by looking at her.

Tapia brought a hoof to her chest and bowed respectively, displaying her talon-like gauntlets.

Holy shit, Speckled Band thought. The mare’s a walking cutlery rack.

“I commend you,” Tapia continued. “Our intelligence had us believe that the Crystal Empire weren’t in possion of any actual killers.”

Tapia’s armor rattled as she lighted her head. A mischievous gaze found Speckled Band before flickering towards Speira.

“Guess we’ll have to correct that oversight, won’t we, Gnar?”

Gnar said nothing. He scanned over the fallen dead and found the captain, Silver Stead, crumpled up some yards away.

“I liked Silver-pony,” he grunted. “What shame.”

“I know, dear, I did too. Kinda cute, kinda handy with a blade to boot. We don’t come across that too often.”

Gnar took a long drag from his cigarette. Smoke hung around his head like a halo. The stench of angel grass was pungent enough to punch through the cacophony of blood and death.

“Don’t know about cute.”

Tapia laughed.

“No, I don’t suppose you would. Take my word on it, though, yuuum.”

Gnar nodded. His dull, bloodshot eyes remained fixed on the Corporal. Speckled Band felt his hackles raise.

“Gnar likes this one,” the diamond dog stated. “Likes his sword more.”

“Oh, baby, I understand completely.” Tapia leered at Speira as she spoke. Her eyes studied the shimmering breastplate and bloody wings almost lustfully.

“Hmmm. Sweet gear, girly.”

Speckled Band found his voice, though it sounded awkward and young to his ears.

“Whoever you are, I ask that you stand down now. You’re ambush failed, we have you outnumbered. There’s no need for anymore bloodshed.”

Did Speckled Band really think diplomacy would work the second time? Did he really? He must not have, for he wasn’t surprised in the least when he was answered with laughter.

Tapia clutched her armored sides, howling. Even the diamond dog was chuckling.

“Heh heh. Need? Oh, of course there’s no need? Ha!”

Tapia sombered, though a ghost of a smile remained on her wicked face.

“There’s never any need, soldier boy. There’s only want. What we want, to be specific. At least, that’s how we see it. Ain’t that right, Gnar?”

Gnar plucked the cigarette from his lips, then flicked it into the wind. He was no longer smiling.

“Right.”

It happened in a blur. The Royal Guards had survived one hell only to be shoved into another.

Gnar planted the end of his bundle with one paw and took hold of Tapia’s ashy colored tail with the other. In one powerful motion, the diamond dog spun and launched Tapia like a frisbee. She was airborne in an instant.

Speckled Band dove headfirst as a cackling, pony-sized shuriken whizzed by over head. A slurry of blood and snow flooded his sinesses as someone screamed.

Author's Note:

A power foe approaches...

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