Chapter 13: Aftermath
Chapter 13: Aftermath
A crimson sunset burned the horizon upon the onset of evening the day after the Battle of Beartrap Fortress. The cloying scent of smoke and blood remained lingering in the air like a spectral aura. Trixie did her best to put it from her mind, but it was a losing proposition given her present task. She tried hard not to look at the face of the corpse she was helping move to the grounds north of the fort where the dead were being gathered. The cold, dead weight in her hooves unnerved Trixie, and her peripheral vision could still catch sight of the face of the mare she carried; what was left of it anyway. Keeping her lunch down was a battle she'd lost within the first hour of moving bodies.
The field to the north was already filled with hundreds of bodies, lined up in neat rows no different than the paths of a tilled field. It made Trixie shudder to see just how many had lost their lives the previous night. Well, half see. There was an opaque blur that frosted the remaining vision of her left eye. Trixie tried hard to ignore it as she worked.
A Legion mare directed Trixie towards the end of the latest row, and Trixie watched as other soldiers marched among the dead, checking the identify the slain and to make notes. The business of tallying and getting headcounts on the dead had been taking most the day, and while the fresh legionnaires from Skywoad Keep had been doing their part to help the troops from Beartrap Fortress seemed to prefer doing the task themselves. Once all the dead were accounted for the process would begin of either preparing bodies to be sent to their respective hometowns for burial or burying the ones who had listed no such preference on their recruitment papers on the fort’s own graveyard.
Trixie hadn't really been given a choice on whether she wanted to do it or not, orders being orders. So far she’d kept her lunch down while doing her part in the grisly affair, through just barely. Setting the poor, dead mare’s body down Trixie wiped sweat off her brow. Right behind her Coco Pommel had been carrying another body, a larger stallion who’d lost a leg, and clearly hadn’t gotten medical help in time to avoid bleeding out. Coco set the body down with careful gentleness.
“There’s so many,” Trixie said, shaking her head, “Trixie knows we are lucky to have survived but... there’s so many dead.”
Coco took a deep breath and nodded, “There would have been more had we not been here to stop the ursans. Many more, in who knows how many defenseless villages, had those things been allowed to roam free without challenge.”
“Trixie understands that. Yet Trixie also wonders; will this ever change?”
Coco cocked her head, giving Trixie a curious glance as the two mares started trotting back towards the fortress, where there were still dead to be gathered. There was a fresh encampment outside the west gate, several hundred tents arranged around the walls, flying the pendants and banners of the Legion. The ponies of Skywoad Keep had formed a new defensive perimeter along the river, fortifying new trenches along the banks. In the sky the distant dots of pegasi scout squadrons could be seen watching over the forests to the west, keeping an eye out for further ursan movements.
“I’m not sure I know what you mean,” said Coco.
“Trixie means that battles like this must have happened many times in the past. For many, many centuries, if what the Legion ponies say is true. So Trixie wonders if it’s even possible to ‘win’ the war. When does this-” she raised a hoof and gestured back at the field of corpses, “-end?”
Coco’s eyes flicked down to the ground, then off to the west with a hard set coming over the former seamstresses jaw that reminded Trixie of the look she’d seen on many of the native Barrier Lands ponies.
“It might never end, Trixie. Not until Equestria has no more enemies to fight.”
Trixie blew out a neighing sigh, “You’ve certainly gone native, haven’t you?”
“And you haven’t?”
Trixie blinked, then frowned. She’d just spent most the day carrying dead bodies around, and she hadn’t thrown up, and wasn’t so much disturbed as she was just tired and a tad numb.
“Trixie perhaps has... acclimated somewhat to her new circumstances. However, Trixie will gladly say goodbye to the Legion the moment her tour of duty is up and say good riddance as well! This is not the lifestyle for such as Trixie.”
This earned a small, relaxed laugh from Coco, “Acclimated somewhat? You faced down an ursan Warchief. I’d say you’ve more than acclimated.”
Trixie ignored the heat coloring her cheeks as she looked away, snout turning up, “Trixie wishes she’d been able to do such without having her face turned into a cutting board!”
Her face was, in fact, sporting a rather impressively large scar from Warcheif Ulragnok’s claw. The fresh pink flesh remained a furrowed tear across the showmare’s features, starting at her brow and running in a ragged valley of damaged hide all the way past her eye and curving down her jaw. She’d been told by the medics, including a frowning Quick Needle, that she was lucky to have not lost her eye in the process, but the damage was still severe and magic had not been able to fix everything. Trixie’s left eye was now a milky white color, faded and dull. All Trixie could see when she tired to look out of that eye alone was indistinct, faded forms.
Coco wasn’t any better off. In fact her injuries were worse, by Trixie’s estimation. Coco also had fresh scars on her face. Though shallower, there were three such marks across her muzzle, like the stripes of a zebra. Worse were the burn marks on her flanks and barrel. While healing magic had taken care off the worst of the burns there would always be a distortion to her coat in those places where fur couldn’t properly regrow. Most of that was covered by her uniform and armor, but Trixie could still see a few flecks of scarred skin on Coco’s neck from when the mare had dragged Allie Way from the flames of the pitch in that last desperate escape from the ursan lines.
“Well, I’m glad you stepped in when you did, otherwise I would’ve been a goner,” said Coco, shaking her head with a rueful look, “I just wish we’d been able to finish the job. That Warchief is still out there, somewhere.”
“The way Trixie hears it with half the horde dead or injured that the ursans can’t afford to launch another direct attack anytime soon.”
“Maybe, but I’d rather not bet our lives on that,” replied Coco, “They could come back when we least expect it. Then there’s the other problem out there.”
Trixie’s expression darkened, “The Lurkers.”
Trixie could understand Coco’s dislike for the ursans because she now felt the same about the Lurkers. She’d heard the full tale from Coldiron about how Blossomforth lost her wings; that it happened while protecting Coldiron, and it’d been the same giant Lurker from Arrow Vale that had done it. Trixie felt her teeth grinding and her forced herself to take a calming breath.
“We shall figure out a way to deal with them in due time, Trixie suspects,” she said as they crossed the fortress central yard, beginning to search for any remaining bodies that needed gathering. There were at least several dozen other ponies working at the same task while others were hard at work repairing damage to the fort itself, the sound of sawing and hammering echoing through the cooling air. There was a fresh dusting of snow on the ground from the previous night, but the clouds had moved on, leaving the sky almost entirely frost blue, bleeding to purple with the coming evening. The air was chill and nipped at Trixie’s coat, but she wasn’t inclined to complain. She’d spent hours now looking at what the alternative could have been, and Trixie was, quite frankly, thankful to still count herself among the living.
She was also grateful that the few friends she’d managed to make had pulled through as well, though at that thought a hard stab of guilt tore through her. Her friends may have made it through the battle alive, but alive wasn’t the same as intact.
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“Ow! Hey! That’s... that’s really sensitive!” Blossomforth said, face screwing up a bit as Quick Needle replaced the bandages on the stumps where her wings used to be. She swallowed the lump in her throat as she looked over her shoulder at them, the small little fleshy nubs wiggling reflexively and making her want to shudder all the more. Despite her complaints there was surprisingly little pain. Apparently the Lurker’s blades had made clean cuts, if nothing else. No infection had set in and the wounds were healing cleanly.
Not much of a consolation by Blossomforth's reckoning but she'd take what she could get. The only thing worse than losing her wings would be dying slowly of infection afterward. Got to look at the silver linings, right?
Quick Needle gave her a look that for a moment was hard as the medical pony’s face ever was, but Blossomforth saw the way his eyes softened despite his cold visage, “You’re lucky infection didn’t set in. The nerves will be raw for some time, but I need you to make sure these bandages stay cleaned and changed regularly until the wounds scab over properly. Just because they didn’t infect yet doesn’t mean they still can’t, and you don’t want to know how bad that could get.”
“Okay, okay, you’re the doc. So, don’t suppose you Legion types ever invented some kind of awesome magic wing prosthetic?”
Quick Needles dry, flat look answered that question well enough and Blossmforth blew out a sigh, laying back down on the bed she’d been stretched out on while Quick Needle had checked her. “Guess it could’ve been worse. Plenty of things I can do without wings. Walk. Eat. Walk some more. Open doors. Pour milk into cereal. Just gotta... gotta keep a positive attitude, right?”
She wished her voice didn’t have to sound so damned forced in its cheer. She was used to being able to keep her spirits up, especially because it helped her keep others spirit's up. It was new to her to be the one who felt like getting a genuine smile up was beyond possible. She knew she should just be happy to be alive after the night she’d survived! Yet... yet...
Those nubs on her back twitched and she grimaced.
Quick Needle’s voice was shockingly gentle. “I am sorry, Blossomforth. I can only pretend to grasp what kind of loss this is for you. As a unicorn I can try to imagine what losing my horn would be like and, well, I sympathize.”
He had an awkward look on his face, eyes looking away from hers. She worked up a smile, giving him a soft punch on the arm. “See? Bedside manner isn’t so hard, is it?”
Quick Needle snorted with indignation, though Blossomforth saw his lips quirk slightly in what might’ve been a ghost of a smile. “Don’t get used to it. I’m paid to put ponies back together, not be their morale officer. I’m just sorry there’s nothing more I can do to put you more back together.”
His eyes twitched, glancing down the long aisle of other beds with patients in them, specifically towards the far end where Blossomforth could see an older earth pony stallion was laying in bed. His coat was slick with sweat and his breathing seemed shallow even from a distance,and Blossomforth recognized that the mare sitting next to the bed, watching over the stallion, was Coldiorn.
“I wish there’s more I could do for a lot of ponies,” Quick Needle whispered, so low that Blossomforth didn’t think he knew he’d spoken. She frowned.
“Is he going to pull through?”
Quick Needle glanced back at her, and his face became its normal, stoic hardness once more, “It’s no longer in my hooves. I’ve done all I can.”
He left it at that and Blossomforth found herself looking towards Coldiron. The short, gray unicorn was staring down at her father, watching over him, and seeming not to notice anything of the world around her. Blossomforth wanted to go to her, but feared it’d just be intruding on something more personal than she could really understand. Somehow the loss of her wings felt much lighter compared to what Coldiron could lose very soon.
“In any case,” Quick Needle said, “You’re as fit as you can be, given the circumstances. I can probably tell Sergeant Counter Charge that you’re clear for light physical duty.”
“Good. Last thing I need is to stay cooped up. Um, hey, question; with me being the way I am now what am I going to do? I mean, in terms of the Legion? I can’t exactly fight anymore alongside the other pegasi.”
For a moment Quick Needle looked thoughtful, his narrow brow creasing, “That is actually a rather good question. For us of the Barrier Lands a commitment to the Legion is for life, so even if one suffers a crippling injury one still serves the Legion in some capacity. Usually something in logistics. In your case, I don’t know. You’re the first Heartlander I know of that’s suffered such an injury in service to the Legion. I imagine it may be debated among higher authorities just what is to be done with you. You may be given leave to return home. You may not. At worst I’d expect you’d be placed in some manner of support role for the rest of your four years with us. You’ll just have to wait and see.”
Strangely enough when she thought about it Blossomforth wasn’t certain which outcome she’d prefer. After all at home all she’d have to look forward to would be trying to figure out what to do with her life without wings. At least as long as she stayed with the Legion she could still be with the friends she’d made here, and maybe find some way to help them out.
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Counter Charge didn’t feel right using Runeward’s old command office, but it’d been decided that she was the senior ranking officer among the surviving Sergeants at Beartrap Fortress, and the office had been ceded to her. She suppressed a shudder, thinking of all the empty seats there’d been at that meeting, only her and two other Sergeants still left. Both 1st and 3rd company’s Sergeants had fallen, and more than half the corporals were gone as well.
She sat at Runeward’s desk, feeling a cold sense as if the old stallion’s ghost was hovering over her. Across from the desk sat a tall, hardy looking earth pony mare whose coat was a deep, dark brown, and whose short cropped mane was as yellow as cornflowers. The lapels of her uniform showed the insignia of a Captain, and the marks of Skywoad Keep’s 4th regiment.
“All told,” Counter Charge began, her mouth dry, “we lost over four hundred ponies. Casualties were spread out pretty evenly, but 1st and 4th company’s got hit the hardest, with the 1st all but gutted with only twenty two survivors. The Arrow Vale volunteers didn’t fare any better. Worse, if possible, with I think perhaps forty survivors between their two companies. The mayor of Arrow Vale, Straight Lace, died of his injuries this morning.”
The brown mare nodded at Counter Charges words, face grim yet firm with respect. Her voice was a rich, deep tone that reminded Counter Charge of a violin. “You folks had one hell of a night, that's the truth. To be honest with you, Sergeant, neither me nor my boys and girls expected to find any of you Beartrap Fortress ponies still living and kicking by the time we got here. We’d hoped, but weren’t expecting it.”
“Still curious just how you all got here so fast, Captain Earthworks. None of us thought we’d see reinforcements from Skywoad Keep for at least three or four days at the earliest. Not that I’m complaining, just wondering how you pulled it off.”
Captain Earthworks let out a thick, hearty laugh that sounded as mystified as Counter Charge felt. “Truth be told I’m still shocked we made it fast as we did. Instead of making the march across the roads like Captain Forced March was hollering we do, one of our Sergeants among the pegasi brought up the idea of using the Bear Bones river.”
“The river? But, I didn’t think Skywoad Keep had enough keelboats to move two full regiments of troops.”
“We didn’t, last year. Our engineers have been building more. The front had been quiet enough we’ve had more settlements cropping up along the rivers in the southern lowlands, so somepony had the smart idea that we’d need more boats for moving supplies and troops. Lucky you enough had been finished that, along with some rapidly built rafts, we were able to fit two regiments. Of course even then it’d not have been fast enough if we hadn’t also tethered our pegasi squads to the boats and rafts to tow them even faster. By the Prince’s own horn I tell you it was a helluva sight. We were packed onto those rafts shoulder to shoulder and were near pissing ourselves every time those crazy pegasi near pulled us onto rocks or sandbars. But by the Prince’s grace we hauled tail day and night, and were able to disembark just a mile south of here a few hours before dawn. Hard marched right up to the ursans flanks just as they were trying to crack your inner keep and you saw the rest. Hit the bears flanks so hard it broke them straight back across the Bear Bones. Biggest victory we’ve had on this side of the war in years and it's all thanks to you folk holding out as long as you did. Mark my words, you’ll make Captain soon as the upper brass can throw the paperwork at you.”
Counter Charge felt herself tense, back stiffening. “If they insist, but I don’t think I’ve earned Captain rank.”
“Keeping your troops together after Runeward bought it couldn’t have been easy. I’ve seen formations shatter after an officer goes down like that.” Earthworks said, leaning forward, “Its impressive you prevented a full on route, especially with a company of Heartlanders under your command. Shocked they didn’t one and all turn tail and run with piss between their tails.”
Jaw tightening, Counter Charge felt her hoof pound the table before she could completely stop the gesture. “Those Hearlanders are Legionnaires now, and they showed more courage in the field last night than I’ve seen on trained recruits from our own Barrier Lands!”
Earthworks eyebrow shot up, and she held out a hoof, “Easy there, I’m just saying it's a surprise. I’m not doubting they did their part.”
“More than their part.” Counter Charge said, calming down, voice heavy, “Those ponies.... between the ambush that hit them on their march here, and the battle last night, there’s just over half of them left from the group that marched out of the Heartland. They’ve seen more of our war in a matter of weeks than many Legionnaires see in a year of service, and they’ve done it without breaking.”
“Sounds like the draft was well worth it then. There’s been doubt, talk I’ve heard from fellow officers that drafting the Heartlanders would be an asset and not a detriment in battle.” Earthworks said matter of factly, “More than a few I’ve heard worry that Heartlander cowardice would cost honorable Legionnaires their lives if they fled from real battle. Glad to hear that wasn’t the case here.”
Counter Charge still felt there were barbs in Earthworks’ words, but she controlled herself, keeping her voice steady. “I won’t claim they’re not rattled. The survivors are holding up, but they need rest. This was far more than any of the Heartlander companies was meant to endure this early in their time among the Legion. But, yes, they have shown their worth, and courage. I intend to see to it they are given a chance to recover.”
“Time may be short on that count,” said Earthworks, eyes turning serious, “While we mangled the ursan horde, we didn’t do near enough damage to ensure they can’t regroup. Another attack is a very real threat. On top of that there’s these Lurkers of yours. I wouldn’t have believed it myself if I didn’t hear so many testimonies from your troops that fought them, and saw that body you’ve got with my own eyes. Hard to believe it, but shit, proof is proof. Any idea what those things are after?”
“Your guess is as good as mine, but if I had to speculate I’d say this feels like reconnaissance.”
“What makes you think that?”
Counter Charge shrugged, “A gut feeling. They’re not here in force. The hit on Arrow Vale felt... I don’t know, like a probe. Maybe the same last night, though they might’ve just been here to rescue their comrade that we’d captured.”
“Hope you flogged the idiots that let that one get away,” Earthworks eyes were narrow and her voice steel hard.
“The ones responsible for the lapse in security have been disciplined. Anyway, as I was saying, the actions of the Lurkers felt like probing maneuvers. I think what we’re dealing with is a scouting expedition. One meant to prepare for something... bigger.”
“Invasion, you think?”
“At worst case scenario, yes. Which means we’d best prepare for it, whatever is coming.”
Earthworks’ face took on a twitch of embarrassment, ”Truth be told the reports you sent on us on the Lurkers was so... out there, that General Dual Wield held on to them until we could confirm the truth of it all. You can bet your flank I’ll be telling him to send copies of those reports to every front, and even to the Prince himself as fast as pegasi wings can carry the word.”
Counter Charge gulped slightly, “The Prince, Is he still in the Heartland, at Canterlot?”
“Last I heard. Still getting things sorted out with those Princess sisters of his. Damned if I know what the Prince will decide to do about this situation. The last thing the Legion needs is another enemy on a entirely new front; bucking below us..”
Counter Charge nodded agreement, “We’ll just have to be be doubly ready for whatever those monsters are no doubt scheming.”
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Leyshi held herself as still as she could, despite the brimming nervous energy coursing through her every fiber. Never before had the vast throne cavern felt quite so constricting as she watched broodmother Chirziane carefully. The broodmother was doing a much better job of staying still than Leyshi was, her huge bulbous body so unmoving that Leyshi would have thought Chirziane dead were it not for the faint hiss of breath she could hear stemming from her mistress’ mouth.
Next to Leyshi, Thirza was also remaining still, having just finished telling Chirziane the full tale of events that had transpired at the pony fortress. When he and Leyshi had reached the forest along with Thirza’s fellow hunters they stayed to watch the way the battle ended. When the ponies had been forced back into the depths of their fort’s inner sanctum and the ursans had surrounded it Leyshi had felt oddly sad. Then her heart had raced with excitement when the ground itself had pounded and shook with the arrival of a fresh army of ponies, ones who had utterly turned the battle against the ursans.
Now, though, Leyshi shifted uncomfortably on her still sore and injured legs as she wondered what Chirziane would do or say. Had this all fallen within the broodmother’s plan? Would she be mad and punish Leyshi!? She had gotten caught, but that wasn’t entirely her fault! Or worse, would Chirziane punish Thirza? That almost seemed worse to Leyshi, since she ghouth Thirza did a good job, and even helped Leyshi escape!
She was near about to collapse from worry when Chirziane spoke, her voice filling the throne chamber, despite it being soft and contemplative rather than sharp and angry.
“An unexpected outcome but not outside the bounds of what I planned for.” The broodmother’s body shifted so all eight of her dark, jewel like eyes focused on Thirza, “You did well, preserving your hunters and protecting Leyshi. Pressing the attack would have risked much for little gain, and you could not have known the ponies would send reinforcements so quickly to the fort.”
Thirza stayed still but a burst of shamed pheromones flowed from him like a sour mist, “I still offer myself for any punishment you deem fitting, broodmother. Your orders were to support the ursan assault and yet I could not ensure their victory.”
“It was not your task to ensure their victory, merely support its likely outcome. The failure is theirs, not yours, my noble hunter of hunters. If you desire punishment I shall not dishonor you by ignoring that need. Report to the painmaster when our meeting concludes and spend the evening in penance.”
“Just one evening of pain cannot erase my shame-” Thirza began but he was quickly cut off by a sharp cutting motion of the broodmother’s forelegs.
“Enough, Thirza. Accept what punishment I am willing to provide you. I need you at your peak. The time for me to create my next brood is arriving soon and I’ll not have my fittest hunter in a state unable to attend to my needs.”
Properly mollified Thirza went silent, bowing low to the ground in acceptance of the broodmother’s words. Exuding a whiff of sweet pleasure pheromones Chirziane turned her attention to Leyshi, whose heart began to race.
“Leyshi, are you well? Your legs are in a terrible state. The surface has not been kind to you.”
“Oh no mistress!” Leyshi was quick to say, “My legs are a small sacrifice to pay for all the fantastic knowledge I gained! The ponies are so amazing I can hardly blame them for being a bit rough with me. They asked all sorts of questions about what we are and what we’re doing on the surface, but I didn’t reveal anything they could use against us. In exchange I learned all sorts of neat things. Ponies are way more expressive when awake or not drugged. I was thinking we could try not drugging some of our test subjects so I can talk to them normally. I bet I can learn a lot more with just a few days to question them.”
Chirziane got Leyshi to go silent with just a simple stream of calming pheromones, so intense and directed that the scent of it caused Leyshi to almost lay down and fall asleep right then and there. The broodmother’s voice was kind, but firm.
“I will not risk further harm to you by allowing our subjects full range of their faculties. Besides I intend to move forward to the next stage of our experimentation and there will be no time for mere interrogations.”
That news almost immediately snapped Leyshi out of her near fuge stage and caused her to bounce back to her legs, “The next phase!? Oh my, are we ready for that mistress!? The chemical balance is still so... so... unstable!”
To her side she noticed Thirza stir slightly, the big hunter unable to disguise his curiosity. Chirziane waved a foreleg dismissively, “We’ll discuss this more later, Leyshi. Thirza, you are dismissed. Remember, I want you fit enough to attend me by tomorrow evening.”
“Yes, my broodmother,” he said, turning to swiftly depart the throne chamber.
After he was gone Chirziane seemed to relax slightly, approaching Leyshi with smooth movements, running a leg over the back of Leyshi’s abdomen comfortingly. “Come, Leyshi, let us see to those wounds. I’m shocked you did not heal them yourself.”
“Oh, um, I’m sorry mistress, I haven’t fed lately. I didn’t have the magic to form the runes.”
“Well, that’s an easy enough problem to solve,” Chirziane said as she reached up to the webs strung above and plucked one of the thickly wrapped up ponies that had been dangling from the white threads. Half a dozen similarly wrapped ponies remained, freshly brought in from the raid on the surface village. Chirziane offered the pony to Leyshi.
“The horned ones have the most potent magic in their blood. It should be more than enough to recharge you, my little Leyshi.”
Hunger pangs reverberated through Leyshi as she caught the pony’s scent and her fangs began to ache. She could barely make out the pony’s form inside the web cocoon, but she could see it begin to tremble. It was awake?”
“Mistress, the pony is awake.”
“Yes, I’ve discovered that the magic you can drain from its blood is more potent if they are feeling strong emotions. Fear, for example.”
“Oh,” Leyshi said, staring at the pony for a moment. Her stomach clenched, both in hunter and... something else, an unease she wasn’t used to. For a moment a ludicrous thought coursed through her mind; that she didn’t want to eat the pony. She shook it off. It was a silly notion. It was only natural for an Aranea to prey upon those who were not Aranea. Fascinating as they were, ponies were still prey. Certainly Leyshi had never hesitated to eat at any other point in her life.
But she’d never studied another species the way she studied the ponies, or found any other race as interesting. It was doing things to her thoughts, making her consider all sorts of things that she’d never had reason to consider before. This pony was afraid. She could smell it. She could practically hear the frantic beating of the pony’s heart and the small grunting noises it was making were likely muffled screams.
She couldn’t quite grasp why, but Leyshi knew without a shadow of doubt she didn’t want to eat this pony.
“Um, sorry mistress, but I’m not feeling very well. I’ll eat later, but I think I just need to go to my chambers and rest. May I go?”
She couldn’t tell if the broodmother believed her half-lie, half-truth, but Chirziane made another dismissive gesture towards the exit of the throne chambers, “So be it. Do remember to eat something soon, Leyshi. We have much work to do and much like Thirza I need you at your most fit for the tasks ahead.”
Chirziane raised the frightened pony, as if about to place it back among its hanging kin, but then the broodmother paused, “Well, waste not, want not.”
The broodmother moved with a flash of speed, fangs piercing the pony in her clutches. Leyshi watched as Chirziane’s fangs pumped venom into the helpless pony that would begin to rapidly liquefy the ponies innards. The pony’s muffled screams grew sharper for a few seconds, almost piercing, then went silent. Leyshi turned away as Chiriziane began to feed, sucking out the liquid insides of the pony with gentle slurping noises.
For some reason the Leyshi could not name those noises left her feeling very uneasy, even long after she reached her dark sleeping chambers to drift off to sleep.
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Many miles from Beartrap Fortress, deep within the forest expanse that carpeted the foothills of the west mountains, the ursans who had survived the battle had gathered. Braves of all the clans Warcheif Ulragnok had led into defeat were now formed into a large circle, grumbling and growling. Many bore wounds from the fight with the ponies, yet none lay to rest or tend to those wounds. No brave among the remaining horde dared to miss the events transpiring in the circle, where two combatants clashed viciously.
Ulragnok himself was bereft of his armor, his titanic body covered in fresh claw wounds that turned his brown fur slick and red. Yet despite his injuries he did not slow as he slammed his body into the darker, black furred form of Chieftain Gertharka, smashing the female backwards with a roar that shook the boughs of the tall pines.
Gertharka did not fall from the blow, instead digging her own back claws into the ground and wrapping her fore arms around Ulragnok’s neck even as he pushed her backwards. With a deep throated growl she twisted and threw, using Ulragnok’s momentum against him to send the Warcheif sprawling with a crash that shook the ground.
“You are weak! In body and in your so-called ‘warrior’ soul!” challenged Gertharka, “You promised us victory and your cowardice has only brought us humiliation!”
Ulragnok spat out blood, having bit the inner cheek of his mouth from the tumble he’d taken, but his eyes blazed only with rage rather than pain. Shame burned like an acid inside him, yet that only fueled his anger. He wanted nothing more than to return to the pony fortress and personally tear the innards out of every single equine he could lay his claws upon, but most of all the ponies that had... had... interfered with his conquest. Not defeated him. He would not acknowledge that humiliation as a defeat! The blue pony had distracted him with her taunts, then other ponies had cowardly attacked him from behind! He’d kill them all. Especially the blue one. She would die the slowest. He had already imagined a thousand ways to make her end the most painful and drawn out.
The vision of that irritating pony with her entrails dripping from his claws was so vivid it almost distracted him from Gertharka’s follow up charge. He narrowed his eyes at his ebony foe as she barreled towards him and rushed to meet her. His body smashed into hers in a bone jarring crash and both he and Gertharka ended up rolling in the dirt in a flurry of snarling teeth and flashing claws. He was beyond caring about the pain, anger drowning all the agony of his wounds, his entire vision a crimson focal point that could only see Gertharka. She tried to get leverage under him and he could tell she was intending to flip him on his back so his vulnerable belly would be exposed. With a feral grin he invited her to try, rearing up in a way that’d seemingly leave him unbalanced for a moment. Gertharka seized upon his feint, the sneer in her eyes clearly showing she didn’t think much of Ulragnok anymore and was assuming he’d made a mistake.
He instead capitalized on hers as she tried to hook his legs to sweep them out from under him. The moment she did so, which exposed most of her back to his fury, he immediately solidified his stance and began to viciously tear into the thick black hide before him. Gertharka roared in pain as Ulragnok’s teeth and claws savaged her back, ripping great bloody gouges across her flesh. She tried to still flip him onto his back, but he’d dug his claws in deep and held firm against her.
“Weak! You think me WEAK!?” he bellowed, loud enough and with such rage that many of the braves watching in the circle backed away a few steps.
His claws sank deep into Gertharka’s hide as he gripped her body on either side, and with a titanic heave did what few ursan warriors could do... bodily lift another ursan straight off and ground. He heaved Gertharka’s squirming body above his head, every muscle in his arms and shoulder bulging and his eyes filled with bloodshot fury as he roared.
“Call me weak now, Gertharka!”
With every ounce of his wrath driven might he hurled Gertharka bodily through the air. Braves scrambled to get out of the path of her flailing form as it flew straight out of the battle circle and smashed into one of the mighty, thick pine trees. The wood of the trunk shuddered and cracked under the blow, a sound almost louder than the snap of bone in Gertharka’s shoulder. Her body fell to the ground with a dull thud and among the surrounding braves there was a deep silence, many eyes staring in disbelief at the sight they had just witnessed.
Ulragnok fell back to all fours, mouth hanging open as he panted his exhaustion. With lumbering steps he began to march towards Gertharka. She was trying to rise, but her smashed shoulder was distended and left her right fore leg dangling uselessly, unable to bear any weight. Ulragnok gave her no time for recovery. The moment he reached her he reared up once more, and lacing his fore paws together he brought down a punishing hammer blow upon Gertharka’s head, smashing her straight to the ground again. Bloodlust gripped him, and for an instant he imagined the blue coated pony in front of him, with her mocking eyes and insulting voice. He wanted to smash her skull in, and Gertharka’s own head was a tempting enough target to vent upon.
He raised his paws to smash again, fully intending to continue until Gertharka’s skull was so much bloody mush, but before he could land his second blow he heard a resonate female voice chanting from behind him. The ground erupted beneath his paws and Ulragnok found himself being wrapped up firmly in a burst of thick roots that flowed up from the ground.
He growled and slashed at the roots with his claws, yet dozens more replaced the ones he smashed and in seconds he was fully bound, wrapped so thoroughly in the roots that he could do nothing but glare at the one responsible as the roots moved to turn him around and face her.
“Regarna! What is the meaning of this!? You...” he blinked in surprise as he realized just what she’d done, what kind of power she’d used.
“You’re an Earthsinger!?”
She bowed her head, but held on her lips a cocky smile and gleam in her eyes, “A fact I failed to mention earlier, yet now many of your braves know, for I brought low the wall of the pony fortress. The Mother of Bear’s blood does sing through my veins. I make no claim to anything closer than the twentieth generation, but it is enough for my voice to command the earth to a modest degree.”
“Hmph, impressive, but it matters little. You have no right to interfere with a challenge between Chieftains.”
Regarna, her shocking green eyes regarding him coolly, merely nodding her head towards the fallen Gertharka.
“The challenge is over, Warchief, and you stand victorious. You would kill the Chieftain of the Night Roar Clan after she already lay defeated?”
He snarled, lips pulled back to bear all of his red stained teeth. “It is my right to do with the loser what I choose.”
“Then choose wisdom, Warchief.” Regarna said plainly, “She is a worthy warrior and it would be a waste to kill her, now that you’ve established your superiority.”
Ulragnok’s growl faded to a mere faint rumble as he flexed his muscles. He felt he might be able to break the roots if he put all his might into it, but he knew that Regarna could summon more. Earthsingers were a rare thing among ursans. They were descended from the bloodline of the Mother of Bears herself. While dozens of generations removed them from the pure divine blood of their forebear the powers of Earthsingers were not to be underestimated, nor the awe they could inspire in their fellow ursans.
As an Earthsinger Regarna could command much respect among the braves of his army and Ulragnok could see that respect reflected in the eyes of the ursans who were watching the scene unfold. If he gave into anger and sought to challenge Regarna then he might lose more face than he could possibly gain by defeating her, and now that he’d had a moment to let his blood cool he realized she was not making a challenge, merely seeking to keep him from slaughtering the Chieftain of the Night Roar Clan. Doing that, as good as it might have felt, would likely have utterly alienated him from the Night Roars and caused him to lose even more braves from his horde.
With as dignified a snort as he could manage he said, “I shall spare her. You speak wisdom, Earthsinger. She may yet lead the Night Roar with strength, through she must now remember that my strength is greater still.”
“Of course, none now would dare challenge that claim,” said Regarna, through her tone suggested she perhaps thought something different. With a simple chant the roots fell away from Ulragnok and he rose. With a simple gesture he commanded some braves to tend to Gertharka. He didn’t bother to watch as she was dragged away. While he suspected there might be other challenges in the days to come following the humiliating defeat at the hooves of the ponies. Gertharka had merely been the most bold, but others would work up their nerve, even after seeing what he’d just done to his opponent.
He didn’t care, he’d crush them all. He’d reassert his control over his horde, rebuild it and gain more followers, then return to deal with the ponies.
“Warchief, allow me to see to your wounds. The blessings of the earth can ease many pains,” said Regarna as Ulragnok began to stomp out of the circle of braves and make his way through the horde’s camp towards the cave he’d claimed as his own.
“I need no healing. The pain is of no consequence,” he growled, his steps louder and harsher as he eyed her.
Regarna’s eyes were unreadable as she followed him. He didn’t think for a moment that she intended anything that he’d find enjoyable. Not after being forced to retreat from battle. He certainly didn’t smell any interest coming off of her, so what was she planning, following him to his cave? At the entrance to the cavern, which was set in the side of a large hill’s outcropping of rocks, and lit by a bonfire just outside the entrance, he paused and turned an irate glare towards her.
“Why do you follow me, Earthsinger?”
“Oh, it is Earthsinger now? Not Regarna?”
“Do not toy with me. I am in no mood for games. Speak your purpose or begone!”
“Let us go inside, Warchief. What I have to say is not something for the ears of any who pass by,” she said, voice taking on a resonate tone that made Ulragnok’s ears twitch. He snorted, turning back towards his cave.
“Do not waste my time or you’ll find Gertharka was the lucky one this day.”
Inside his cave was a bed of furs of various creatures ursans hunted, elk and smaller deer mostly. He lay upon them and turned his head to regard Regarna as she sat across from him. Her eyes met his firmly and he felt as if she’d summoned more roots to entrap his body, despite the fact that it was her eyes alone that held him.
“As you wish, I’ll not waste time,” she said, voice sharp as shards of volcanic glass, “I want to know when and why you brokered a deal with those... things.”
He raised an eyebrow, but he felt a stab of nervousness. “Things?”
Regarna’s own growl filled the cave with an echo that sent a shiver down Ulragnok’s spine, “Do not waste my time, either, ‘Warchief’. Your braves and I saw them, the many legged ones. They fought against the ponies, yet I do not doubt they have aided you in other ways. It could be not but you who brought them into that battle, so do not bother lying to me, Ulragnok. Do you know what you’ve done? What you’ve made alliance with?”
Ulragnok considered how quickly he might rise from his furs and slash her throat out. Could she chant fast enough to save her life? Could she bring forth roots in the thick rocks of the cavern? Or perhaps he was underestimating her and she was a powerful enough Earthsinger to command the rocks themselves? Yet despite himself he could not seem to work up the indignation or rage to attack. He also didn’t bother denying her words, as it was clear she’d convinced herself and nothing he could say would lead her to believe otherwise.
Besides, it was all true.
“I know not what they are, only that they were of use to me,” he said plainly, no shame in his voice, “They offered to aid in my rise and why should I not have accepted? They did not betray our bargain, though their ‘help’ was of less use than I’d have hoped. What business it is of yours, Earthsinger? They are mere creatures of shadow, with no strength or power to threaten we ursans.”
Regarna’s lips drew back in a deep breath that was then let out in a low growl, “You confound me, Warchief! Some moments I think you a noble warrior, while others I can’t help but see an utter fool before me!”
“Be careful with your words...” he warned in a flinty tone.
“Or what? You’re near dead after smashing Gertharka. I will not spend time on you if you cannot see your own errors! To strike a deal with things like you have was the height of foolishness. You have no idea what it was with which you were dealing. They are the Aranea.”
Ulragnok blinked, “Impossible. That is naught by myth. They never existed. A tale the elders sing to help themselves fall asleep!”
Regarna shook her head, “No myth. The Demons Below existed, and still do. Aranea, their ancient name, is still sung among every storyteller because it is a reminder to always remain vigilant and cautious of what lurks below our land of sun, mountain, and tree. You’ve made a bargain with an ancient enemy of our people. How much do you think your braves would be willing to follow you if they realized this?”
Ulragnok went silent for a few moments, mind slowly trying to chew upon Regarna’s words. He had, perhaps, been suspicious of his shadowy allies when he’d first met them. Yet they had provided him results. He’d risen to power because of their aid. He’d expected to lead his horde to victory with their aid as well, but that had proven fruitless. Could those creatures truly have been the Aranea of legend that had battled with the Mother of Bears for control of the ursans ancestral mountain homes? It seemed... ludicrous. Yet if it were true?
“Let us say you are right, Earthsinger. If these many legged freaks are indeed the Aranea of myth, then what is stopping you from using this to usurp me as Warchief? I doubt many would question the word of an Earthsinger, and you could destroy me utterly with this. So why speak to me about this privately, in a place where I might slay you before your words could undo me?”
Her emerald eyes bored into him, “Because I have no desire to be Warchief. I spoke truth to you the night before the battle. I followed you because I believed it was right to bring the listless young ursans of our generation into glorious battle. That has not changed with merely one defeat. Indeed I think more highly of you to retreat when you did.”
That made Ulragnok scoff, “You think highly of a coward that ran from ponies?”
“It is not cowardice to know when a battle is lost! It is wisdom. Foolish as you may be I sense the potential in you for greatness, Ulragnok. Where a lesser warrior would have pressed the attack, even when the ponies outnumbered us and outflanked us, out of sheer useless pride, you had the sense to call for retreat. Tell me, why?”
Ulragnok blanched, looking away from her, “There... was no victory to be had, when that fresh army of ponies crashed into our flanks. I would have lost half my remaining horde trying to stay and fight, even if victory had somehow become possible.”
“That is what I mean. That is why I still call you Warchief. Defeated we were, but you had the wisdom and courage to bear the shame of retreat to preserve your army. Now it is possible for us to still rebuild our numbers, gather other braves from the other clans. We can prepare for what is to come.”
“The only thing I wish to prepare for is the death of those who humiliated me,” he grunted.
Regarna batted a paw at him that caused him to growl, yet the gesture had been almost... playful.
“The ponies can wait. It is your allies, or rather former allies that concern me, and should be concerning you.” Regarna’s claws flexed, tearing small gouges in the stone beneath her, “The Aranea will not have used us to no purpose. They will move, soon, in whatever manner their twisted schemes will send them. We cannot afford to let them move freely, for no doubt they think us weak after losing to the ponies.”
That word, weak, caused Ulragnok’s growl to reverberating througough the cave. While he had every intention of resuming his war upon the pony lands, he could not deny that Regarna’s words struck a chord with him. The Demons Below had used him. He’d let them use him, his ambitions outweighing his common sense. Whether they were the Aranea of legend or not was irrelevant. He would make them pay the same as the ponies.
All who had played a part in humiliating him would be made to pay.
----------
The mess hall of Beartrap Fortress was far less crowded than it had been days before, with every empty spot at the tables a reminder of those gone. Yet despite this the mood of the room was high, or at least it seemed that way to Allie Way. She was given hefty pats on the shoulders by other Legionnaires as she went through the line to get her bowl of stew and as she passed many tables she saw other ponies raising mugs to each other, downing hefty quaffs of ale. Barrels of the stuff had been brought out from the inner keep. Apparently every Legion fort had a supply of the stuff for celebrating victories or other important events.
Allie Way wasn’t much in the mood for celebrating but she tried to smile back, despite how uncomfortable she felt every time a Legion pony would look her way. She almost preferred the faint disdain the Legion ponies had for her and her fellow Heartlanders over this strange turn of respect. She certainly didn’t feel like she’d earned it.
“Allie Way! Over here!” shouted Blossomforth, the wingless pegasus waving her hooves from the end of one table where Allie Way could see that Trixie and Coco were also there, seated with another pony she didn’t recognize, a young stallion with his head wrapped up with bandages.
Trotting swifted to the table Allie Way gratefully took a seat next to Coco, just across from Blossomforth, who gave Allie Way a large smile.
“First chance I’ve had to say thanks,” said Blossomforth.
“Thanks? Um, for what?” Allie Way asked, one ear flicking.
“What else? You totally saved Trixie’s kiester back there. Everypony in the fort’s hear the story by now, heh, not that Trixie’s been modest about telling it.”
Trixie tossed her mane, holding her head high while giving Allie Way a nod, “Trixie had merely provided an accurate recounting of events to those that have wished to listen. And of course Trixie does not claim all the glory for confronting that terrible Warchief, given both you and Coco actually struck the blows that laid the brute low. Trixie... er, helped, of course. A team effort!”
Allie Way cringed in on herself, “I just threw a ball.”
“Yeah!” said Blossomforth, “A big, heavy medicine ball that totally rung that jerk’s bell and saved Trixie from being all disemboweled.”
Trixie coughed on a bit of stew, “Please, Trixie is trying to eat!”
“Just saying.”
Allie Way looked down at her stew and poked at it with a wooden spoon, almost jumping when the stallion with the bandages on his head said, “Hey, something wrong? You look out of it.”
She blinked at him, “Um, I’m okay. Who are you?”
“Strong Back,” answered Blossomforth for the stallion, “He’s from Arrow Vale.”
The stallion in question rubbed the back of his head, grimacing, “Been out like a light since these mares were nice enough to drag my dumb flank out of that town after I cracked my head trying to help them with those spiderwhatsits. Just came to this morning to find out I missed an entire battle.”
“That’s... that’s a good thing,” Allie Way said, shivering involuntarily her mind flashed to the blood and screams of the previous night, “You didn’t want to be awake for that.”
Strong Back’s mane seemed to twitched as he crossed his arms, “Prince’s flaming rump I didn’t! My kin had to fight and die by the dozens last night, and I oughta been there to do my part instead of sleeping off a little bump to the noggin. Coulda done something brave like you.”
Allie Way’s voice came out as a choked whisper, “I’m not brave.”
“Course you are. Ain’t no coward can rush a ursan Warchief like you did,” he insisted.
She shook her head, looking at the eyes of those seated at the table around her and feeling nothing but sharp guilt at their looks. Trixie and Blossomforth both look faintly concerned, while Coco had a more unreadable yet somehow more piercing look. Strong Back just looked confident in his own words, through his brows did twitch with confusion as he stared at her. Allie Way gulped hard, chest tight, but she found herself able to speak.
“You all don’t understand. I... I only did that one thing, and that only because I was desperate to help Trixie. The entire battle all I could do was cower. Cower and watch as other ponies died. I even hid myself in the clinic instead of joining everypony else fighting. I just shook and cried under a bed like a little filly until I heard Trixie screaming. I’m not brave. I’m not a hero. I’m just a coward.”
A brief silence hung over the table after that. Allie Way hadn’t spoken loudly, certainly not loud enough that any ponies at other tables could hear her confession, but just saying it aloud to those who’d been most directly affected by her actions still left Allie Way feeling both scared and oddly relieved. She didn’t want to hold that in forever.
Coco was the one who broke the silence. “I don’t think you’re a coward. Everypony in that fight was scared. A lot of them might have ran if they thought they could. Others might have hid away like you did. Nopony faces death with a steady heart without being insane, stupid, or both. Allie Way, you got scared. So what? You still made the right choice in the end and whether it was desperation or not, you saved me, Trixie, maybe the entire battle... so don’t call yourself a coward again otherwise I’ll smack you right upside your head.”
Allie Way blinked at Coco, whose eyes were completely serious. After a moment she nodded and said, “O-okay. I’ll...um, yeah.”
Trixie coughed politely, “Well now that that’s settled Trixie shall resume eating. Although, now that Trixie thinks about it, where has Coldiron gone off to?”
Coco tilted her head in thought, “I haven’t seen her all day, come to think of it.”
“Coldiorn? Oh, right, the ice mage,” said Strong Back, “I hope she’s alright.”
“She is,” said Blossomforth with a sad sigh, “Or at least, she’s okay physically. I don’t know how she’s doing otherwise. Her dad...well, he’s in a bad way. She’s with him back in the clinic. I talked a bit with Quick Needle about it.”
She didn’t elaborate further, the pegasus mare’s depressed look as she sagged in her seat saying more than words could about the situation. The ponies all went quiet for a time, eating silently. Allie Way didn’t know what to feel. She didn’t really know Coldiron well, only that she was the Legion mare that’d led Trixie and the others to Arrow Vale. If her father was going to pass on all Allie Way could do was say a quiet prayer for both of them.
Suddenly Trixie rose from the table and said, “If she’s been there all this time then Trixie is sure that foolish mare hasn’t eaten. Trixie shall fix that.”
“Uh, Trixie, she might not want company right now,” said Blossomforth as Trixie snatched up a spare bowl.
“Perhaps not, but Trixie will not let a... acquaintance starve herself. If she does not like it she can take it up with Trixie’s complaint department, located between Trixie’s hind cheeks.”
Allie Way nearly sputtered stew at that comment, and stared after Trixie as the mare went to collect a fresh bowl of stew from the cook line and marched off with the steaming meal.
----------
The combined smell of antiseptics and dried blood still clung to the air of the clinic despite one or two sweeps with magic to clear out most of the smell. There were few wounded left in the clinic who hadn’t already been cleared to return to duty, the Legion having a fairly loose set of regulations in regards to what counted as being fit for work and most Legionnaires not wanting to spend any more time than necessary in bed.
As a result the clinic was mostly empty save for a few cases that still required bed rest, and almost all of them were sedated and sleeping.
Only Solid Plough had been given some privacy at the far end of the clinic, mostly out of respect to the fact that his family were present in the fort to visit the stallion as he lay unconscious on that thin line between life and death, a line everypony knew he wouldn’t remain on for much longer.
Coldiron’s younger brothers had taken turns at the bedside of their father earlier, through Coldiron herself had not left for any of that time. Some practical part of her mind and heart were yelling at her to get off her flank and report back to duty. She wasn’t badly injured, save for the crack in her horn. That crack still hurt immensely if she tried to channel magic, a splitting headache worse than any migraine. She knew her horn would recover in time, albeit with the cost of a weaker magical aura. She’d never be as powerful a battlemage as she’d been before overchanneling like that... but she couldn’t bring herself to regret doing so. She’d driven that giant Lurker back and was certain she and Blossomforth would be either dead or facing a worse fate still if she hadn’t went beyond her limits. She was Legion, she could learn to cope with anything.
Her father’s chest rose and fell with slow, raspy breaths, and she locked her jaw tight.
Coldiron quickly noticed it when Trixie arrived, floating a bowl of steaming stew in her magical aura. She watched as Trixie set the bowl down on the small table of medical tools next to her. The azure Heartlander had a strange look in her eyes, one that held that arrogant glint Coldiron was so familiar with now, but also a current of worry and stubbornness that made Trixie had never shown her before.
“Trixie has heard you have been here all day with no food. In her infinite wisdom she has seen fit to deliver you a meal,” Trixie said, looking ready to argue with Coldiron on whether said meal would be eaten or not.
Coldiron for her part didn’t say a word as she turned to the bowl and floated the bowl up, quirking an eyebrow, “No spoon?”
Trixie’s eyes fluttered in a few blinks, then her face blanched, “Bah! Of course Trixie didn’t forget to grab a spoon. She merely imagined there would be an appropriate utensil here, er, somewhere.”
With a weary sigh Coldiron reached over to pick up the bowl between her hooves, “Its fine, I don’t need a spoon. Can’t lift one with magic anyway.”
She dipped her muzzle to the bowl, eating with about as much grace as anypony could manage. Earth ponies did this all the time, so she imagined it was fine enough for her. As the warm stew hit her stomach she realized just how hungry she’d been as it gurgled in relief. Setting the bowl down for a moment she wiped her mouth with an arm and glanced at Trixie.
“Thanks. I guess I just forgot the time...” her eyes drifted back to her father’s prone form.
Trixie shifted nervously on her hooves, “Trixie thought you’d be more resistant to eating, or her presence.”
Coldiron rolled her eyes, “Why? I needed the food, and there’s nothing wrong with you being here.”
“You haven’t really liked Trixie much before.”
“Didn’t say I like you much now, but that’s moot,” said Coldiron, then let out a long, slow breath, looking Trixie in the eye, gazing at her scare and the filmy whiteness of her scarred eye, “Besides, you’ve bled for the Legion. I don’t have any issues with you anymore, Trixie Lulamoon. We may not be close friends, now, or perhaps ever, but we are comrades. If I can trust you in a fight, I can accept you here, now, as I wait for my father to die.”
“You don’t know that he will.”
With a sharp shake of her head Coldiron said, “I understand now that this is part of what makes you Heartlanders who you are. You can’t let go of your hope, even in the face of the obvious. Perhaps in time I’ll learn to appreciate it.”
She laid a hoof on her father’s, feeling the thready pulse in his veins. She gripped that hoof tightly, though she knew she wouldn’t feel a return grip. “I know my father’s time is near. All I want is to be here for him.”
It made shame boil up through her that she could feel wetness pooling in her eyes and her throat was getting tighter. She didn’t want anypony else seeing her this way, least of all Trixie, but she was able to keep a tight enough lid on her emotions that only a bare hint of the pain reached her voice.”He won’t survive, but he may yet wake up, if only for a minute. If he does, I don’t want him to wake up to an empty room. He deserves to know one of his family are here with him for the end.”
That, and there were still many things she wanted to tell him. If he did wake up she knew she wouldn’t have enough time for even a fraction of all the words she wished to get out, all the unburied hatchets she wished to be done away with. She wasn’t sure she could ever apologize for all of their arguments, their disagreements over the purpose of the Legion, but she wanted to at least tell him that she’d never hated him for any of it.
She felt a hoof on her withers and saw that Trixie had come up, giving that brief comforting touch. Trixie almost as quickly pulled back, looking embarrassed and uncomfortable. “Trixie has been assigned to guard duty for the night, but if you want Trixie can stand vigil with you until her shift beings.”
Coldiron let out a small, weak laugh, “That depends, how quiet can Trixie be?”
Trixie seemed to briefly consider this, then answered with a raised hoof, “Moderately quiet. Trixie may spontaneously launch into anecdotes of her travels across Equestria in a mad effort to keep your spirits up.”
“Heh, well... I suppose I can survive that.”
----------
The next dawn greeted a warmer day, the sky brushed with only a hoof full of clouds. Trixie had remained awake the entire night, posted upon the north palisade wall as a sentry. Staying up and alert had not been too difficult for Trixie, who had spent more than her fair share of sleepless nights in order to make it to the next town when she’d traveled as a magician. Besides she wasn’t very eager to sleep, despite the exhausted aches of her body. She was not looking forward to the nightmares she’d be having after all that had happened so far during her short tenure with the Legion.
Before the sun’s light even managed to fully crest the horizon Trixie saw that there were ponies heading out the gate to the field of bodies that had been set up the previous day. Burial details had been hard at work all through the night laying the rest the bodies slated to be buried by the fort, yet there were still many more bodies that needed to be transported. The Legion ponies had begun to line up hastily constructed carts near the lines of bodies; a surreal and disturbing sight to Trixie.
Among the ponies overseeing the work was Counter Charge, who as far as Trixie could tell was now the temporary commander of the fort with the death of the previous Captain. Trixie stretched her tired limbs as she blearily watched the proceedings, watching the dead be loaded to be taken to their various final resting places. The bodies were wrapped in canvas, and Trixie was glad she hadn’t been assigned that duty yesterday.
After an hour her relief arrived, the stern faced Legion pony giving her a firm nod as he took over her post and she was clear to go get some sleep. Yet instead of heading for her tent Trixie found herself pausing as she noticed a pony slowly walking towards the north gate from the direction of the clinic. Trixie’s heart sank as she recognized the pony was Coldiron, and that she had lain across her back the body of her father.
Trixie didn’t think twice, she diverted from her tent and instead approached Coldiron. She said nothing as she filed in next to the other unicorn, the pair sharing a glance. Coldiron’s eyes were hard, yet there was a glint of gratefulness there as well. Trixie didn’t need to look at Solid Plough’s body to know he wasn’t breathing. Trixie didn’t ask whether he’d ever woken up for any length of time at all last night. He hadn’t by the time she’d needed to leave Coldiron’s side for her guard shift. If he had woken up Trixie imagined it wasn’t her business to ask. Coldiron gave nothing away by her expression or posture.
When they reached the field of bodies they were spotted by the ponies working there and it was Counter Charge herself who approached them, eyes grim. Counter Charge gave Coldiron a weary but understanding nod.
“Sergeant,” Counter Charge saluted.
Coldiron returned the gesture, “Sergeant, I regret that I must report that Solid Plough of the Arrow Value Volunteer Regiment, 2nd Company, has succumbed to his injuries sustained in honorable battle. I request permission to lay his body to rest as he would have wished, in our family graveyard at our farm outside Arrow Vale. I wish to bury him alongside my mother. It may take a day or two.”
Counter Charge didn’t even think about it, nodding her head, “Permission granted. Do your brothers know?”
“Not yet, I will inform them before I leave. They’ll wish to help.”
“Most of the Arrow Vale civilians aren’t cleared to leave the fort yet,” said Counter Charge, “Too dangerous to move them back to their town until it’s been confirmed secured. There’s a chance Lurkers remain a danger in the area, or ursan stragglers. If you’re going to your family farm you’ll need a burial detail to act as escort.”
Trixie didn’t hesitate, stepping forward, “Trixie would wish to volunteer. And she knows several other ponies who no doubt will also wish to volunteer.”
Counter Charge nodded as if she’d expected this response, “Granted. Coldiron, I assume you have no objections?”
Coldiron had none, smiling gratefully. After that it took less than an hour for Blossomforth and Coco Pommel to be detached from their morning duties and granted permission to join the burial detail. Coldiron’s brothers, Haybale and Hoedown, to be given the news of their father’s passing. Neither had any qualms about having help laying their father to rest. Before it had even reached mid-morning the four mares and two stallions were departing Beartrap Fortress. All were fully armed and armored, carrying full saddlebags of supplies for the trip back to Arrow Vale. Coldiron carried her father’s body on her back, still, but he was now carefully wrapped in a canvas with the patched standard of the Arrow Vale 2nd stitched onto the cloth.
Allie Way had met with them briefly as they’d left, wishing them luck on their journey before she had to scurry off to join the repair crew she’d been assigned to for the day.
Conversation was sparse for the first leg of the trek down the long road back towards Arrow Vale. A firm wind stirred up by early afternoon, causing the waves of trees around the ponies to whisper like the sound of distant ocean waves as the ponies walked with steady steps. They made good time, camping even further ahead of the place they had before when night finally fell. Around the campfire tension eased and the ponies talked, Trixie making good on her earlier threat to Coldiron about telling tall tales of her travels in Equestria to lighten the spirits of her companions. Despite the dire nature of their journey it seemed Haybale and Hoedown both found hearing of the Heartland a worthy distraction from the covered body of their father, and Coldiron gave Trixie a grateful look for the tales.
Blossomforth was happy to add her own stories of life in a humble town like Ponyville, so similar in a lot of ways to Arrow Vale, and Coco talked of the many grand sites and unique oddities of life in a big city like Manehattan. They got a good night’s sleep, even while posting watches in case of danger. Nothing accosted them in the night, however, and they were well under way by the time the sun’s first rays warmed them the next day. With the vast expanse of fields now before them, green grass flowing with waves from the warm morning breeze, Trixie could easily imagine being back in Equestria.
For the first time Trixie started to see the Barrier Lands not as a war embroiled purgatory but as a land no different than her home. She could understand why the Legion fought so hard to protect it. Trixie might always resent the Legion for the draft, but the reasons for it she could almost understand now.
They followed the road for a few more hours, but they turned off on a well worn cart path leading through a field of tall grass. Not long after Trixie could see a farmstead resting atop a gentle hill. The short log cabin was joined by a single barn overlooking a set of dark earthen fields. Coldiron led the way up the path to the front of the house, taking her father’s body around to the back of the cabin. There Trixie could see that hidden behind the cabin was a single, small peach tree, standing like a lone sentinel looking over the fields. Its branches swayed softly in the wind, making the tree almost look like it was breathing.
Underneath the boughs of the tree was a gravemarker carved from a simple stone. Coldiron carefully set down her father’s body next to that gravemarker, wiping sweat from her brow.
“Coco, if you follow Haybale inside he can show you the tool shed. We should have enough shovels.”
“Of course,” said Coco, and Haybale went ahead and led her back towards the side of the cabin. Blossomforth in the meantime looked about with curious eyes.
“This is a nice lace. How long did you live here?”
“Sis signed up with the Legion soon as she could get them to believe she was of legal age,” said Hoedown, shaking his head with a hard chuckle that was almost a sob, “Remember dad was ticked off fiercely when he found out.”
Coldiron sighed, “Yeah, I always wondered why he didn’t get me discharged for signing up before I was old enough...”
“Don’t think dad could’ve brought himself to do that when mom did the exact same thing when she was young. He respected her a lot.”
Blossomforth nodded vigorously, “Yeah, I bet they were both proud of you, following your mom’s hoof steps.”
Soon enough Coco and Haybale returned with the shovels but Coldiron first turned around and led them all into the cabin. “We’ll eat lunch first. This will be long work and not to be done on empty stomachs. Um, Haybale, you can cook, right?”
“Pfft, can I cook? Sis, you’ve been away from home too long. Lemme show you what you’ve been missing all these years.”
Haybale backed up his words with a hearty meal of potatoes and oats that were surprisingly tasty for what was relatively simple fare. Trixie suspected he had some spices hidden away that added a lot of the flavor. The food was washed down with ale, which Trixie was still adjusting to as an almost more common drink than water out in the Barrier Lands, and with their bellies freshly filled the ponies marched back outside to get to the business at hoof.
Trixie was the only one with access to magic, with Coldiron’s horn out of commission, so out of self conscious pride she took up a shovel with her bare hooves. The digging went faster than she would have thought, Coldiron and her brothers putting their backs to the task with a fervor that seemed to infect her, Coco and Blossomforth. Once the hole was dug Coldiron remained in the hole to catch the head of her father’s body as her two brothers slowly lowered him down. Once the body was gently laid out on the bottom of the hole Coldiron climbed out and the ponies stood over the hole silently for a few minutes.
Trixie had no idea what was appropriate here. Legion customs were still quite beyond her, though she supposed that this wasn’t a Legion funeral in the strictest sense of the term. Were they supposed to say some words?
Neither Coldiorn or her brothers were saying anything, so Trixie chose to remain silent as well. She did watch out of the corner of her eye, watching the faces of the ponies who’d lost their father. While they might not have been speaking, their faces told more than words could have. She’d rarely seen Legionnaires show their emotions, as if there was some sort of military ban on them. Neither Haybale or Hoedown were Legionnaires, however, so their tears were not held back. The siblings remained close to each other, placing hooves across each others shoulders, the brothers hugging their sister from either side as she too finally broke down and let her tears fall.
It was only natural to join them. Trixie hadn’t even known the stallion who lay before her, but that hardly mattered. It was just normal to share the mourning of others. When ponies did things, they did them together. Blossomforth’s loud sobs mixed with Coco’s softer, closed eyed tears. Trixie couldn’t help but want to wipe at her face, not used to really doing something like this, and realizing that in the years to come she might end up putting other ponies in the ground as well. Perhaps even some of the friends that stood beside her now. Or perhaps they’d be the ones to bury Trixie. Oddly she found that thought more a comfort than a cause for further sadness.
She wasn’t certain how much time passed, but at some unknown signal Coldiron gradually stemmed her tears and with a final, close and hard hug with her brothers, she took up her shovel once more. Trixie and the others followed her lead and with steady movements they filled the hole where Solid Plough would sleep beside his wife for the rest of time.
When the matter was done Coldiron took a deep breath, her face turning back into the same, calm and strong mask Trixie was familiar with, but that mask couldn’t hide the gratitude shining in Coldiron’s eyes as she looked at the ponies around her.
“Thank you. All of you. I don’t know if I could have done this alone.”
“We’re friends. Never doubt we’ll be here for you, now and always,” said Coco.
“Darn straight!” said Blossomforth, rushing over to throw a hug on Coldiron, who took it with a bemused by accepting look, “We’ll be here for you whenever you need us.”
Trixie found herself nodding, “We may not have come to this land by choice, but even Trixie can say that she is glad to have come to know you, and call you a friend.”
“Friends... yeah, I think I can call all of you that, can’t I?”
They stayed there a time longer, first to find and carve a proper gravemarker for Solid Plough, and later that evening to enjoy a final meal with Haybale and Hoedown before they’d begin the journey back to Beartrap Fortress. The sun was not yet starting to set by the time they departed, but Coldiron was insistent they could make a good few miles before nightfall, and that they might even march through the night in order to get back to the fortress in good time. Trixie didn’t complain. She felt lighter than she had in the many days, weeks now, since she’d been drafted as Legionnaire.
“Three weeks down...” she said to herself wistfully as she watched the sky gradually turn to deep shades of dark blue, clouds running from white to burned orange as the sun started to set.
“Only fourteen hundred and thirty nine days to go!” said Blossomforth, laughing.
Trixie could only share in the laugh as she marched beside her fellow Legionnaires back to Beartrap Fortress and towards an unknown future that, at least for this brief moment, she didn’t fear.
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Phew, dirty work these ponies have to go through. Makes me glad I didn't read the series this is based on since it would only depress me.
Will keep a look out for the sequel. Until then, keep at it!
I really enjoyed this chapter. It was nice to have a cool down after that wild battle.
Good lord I can't tell you how much I appreciate Ulragnok being smart enough to see the losing battle for what it was and, with Regarna by his side, he makes for a much more threatening antagonist than the standard Wolven fare. At least as far as Breaking Point goes, I haven't read Reckoning or the other stories (going to do that after I finish this story). TBF Fenrir wasn't a total idiot but he still resented having to fight smart, considering it a loss even when he had the upper hand, which is just dumb.
Leyshi starting to feel remorse at having to kill Ponies. Good start at least but Thirza is either a masochist or really needs to learn not to let his pride make decisions for him. Wonder what Chizrane's next move is? They need to let Trixie lead the war against the Araneans if it comes to it, mare's been outsmarting them left and right. If nothing else, Trixie is a better tactician than she who shalt not be named.