Special celebration chapter: "Battle Song"
Every skull lowered, and antlers locked with antlers. A wall of bones bristled white. Their skinless grins surged forward without command. From behind them arced a shower of barbs.
Red peered over the pony ranks. A blue plume marked Bardiche against the ever-overcast sky. The arrow storm swelled closer.
“Boardwall!” Bardiche raised cover.
Shields stacked upon shields. Red’s own shot up to clatter with the others. His teeth rolled around the hilt of his sword. The arrows whistled. Any one of them could fall through the chinks between the shields. Those chinks shrank as ponies clustered tighter, shivering in the cold, in the damp, and in fear.
With a BANG the first arrow bounced from Red’s centerboss. Others thump, thump, thump, thump, thump, thump, thump, thumped across the painted fronts of the shieldwall. A second shower of arrows thump, thump, thumped into their shields. Some stuck fast. Harsh winds cut through the formation, then silence. Old runes blazed anew, and behind them Bardiche shouted again.
“For Ashbane!” Every Shetlander stomped with him.
The voices of Shetland joined as one.
For our sons and daughters! For Ashbane! For Old Althing! For IRONWING!
Tides of Wrothkin consumed the muddy distance. Beyond them the deer archers strung their bows, and another volley filled the clouds.
Red resisted the urge to blink. He stared through a chink. The charging Wrothkin crossed the first ditch. Their hooves drummed staccato as each row leaped, one after the next, over the pit traps and trenches. His tongue cleaved to the roof of his mouth when the waves of antlers crested again, and again, and again.
Thump, thump, thump, he felt more than heard the next arrow shower. Thwack! A single tip burst through the planks above. Row after row after row of dead deer crested the second ditch just as they had the first. If any fell, the wave covered them. Puddles rippled ahead of their charge.
They will overrun us. Red quashed that thought. He breathed deep. Nothing can stop them! He cast that thought aside too, just as he had at the Bloody Pasture. Thump, thump, thump beat his heart.
The Shetlanders stomped again. And this time, to Red’s dismay, the Shetlanders began to sing.
Come now old foes and cast your bones
Against our shields of linden made!
Winter’s teeth broke upon these stones
That for this day our forebears laid!
Enter this fence that we arranged
So we may see our blood avenged!
Their hooves felt the earth tremble and quake as the onslaught came. The Shetlanders stomped again, and added to the quake.
A flurry of icicles erupted from the Wrothkin ranks. Thump! Thump! Thump! Thwack! The thane to Red’s left screamed. An icicle stuck from his eye. No, not an icicle; a shard of antler. Red screamed too.
The Wrothkin were upon them. They cleared the final ditch in a wave and Red clenched his teeth around his hilt and pawed the mud.
“Now!” A unicorn’s word of command raised a wall of colors four paces ahead.
Skulls and antlers, caught mid-leap, were dashed headlong into the entropic shields of the unicorns. Red was never so glad to see magic. He cheered with the Shetlanders and felt their shields rattle against his.
For a moment the spell wall held. Then, as the deer were still cramming themselves against it, unable to avoid the ditch, the spell flashed white and turned to smoke. A counterspell shot overhead in a shimmer, too late. Wrothkin poured forward and rolled over one another. In strange voices they swore curses, and leapt over their fallen. Skulls and antlers lunged in a staggered wave.
With a CRUNCH the wave broke against the shield wall. The deer ramped up and over them, over their comrades, onto those held above. Cloven hooves stabbed into the chinks between rims. Antlers skittered off centerbosses, and thunder cascaded in Red’s skull. Everypony wrestled under the oppressive weight, their hooves cutting streaks in mud. Ponies and deer screamed alike. Bodies streamed overhead and weight crushed a shield down onto Red’s ear. He snorted, and thrust his sword up between gaps. Ankle bones ripped against his blade. Thump! Thump! Thump! Thwack!
For our sons and daughters! For Ashbane! For Old Althing! For IRONWING!
A spear slapped Red across the haunches. Blood splashed his tail. Someone else picked up the spear. A shield overturned above, and it dumped a deer onto Red’s head. Red’s neck cracked aside; another shield filled the gap, and mud drenched his cheek. At his feet the fallen deer kicked and writhed. Points raked his legs. Red couldn’t bring his sword down, so he stomped on the deer’s back.
A hundred Shetlanders stomped with him. Among them Bardiche’s voice sang the loudest.
Lo! Now Shetland does call once more
Upon the strength of all our necks!
Against the tide we are the shore
So advance, thanes, with my poleaxe!
Keep straight your back and raise your helm
With our steel we shall overwhelm!
Thump! Thump! Thump! Thwack! Blood spilled between gaps in shields and rained on Red. He fished about with his sword, lips scraping his shield. Nothing remained above but dead weight. The foe underfoot managed to lift its head. Red’s hoof stomped it back down.
Thump! Thump! Thump! Thwack! Red’s heart hammered and so did foes hammer at the shields ahead. With another stomp the Shetlanders regained ground. Red felt bone snap underfoot. Another stomp, another inch forward.
Thump! Thump! Thump! Thwack! A chin pressed against Red’s back. Shoulders shoved his tailbone. He caught a glimpse of a young grin behind him. Wistful Scrip sang in his ear:
Skies hear our cry with shields held high
In clouds above where heavens hide
Today we say our end is nigh!
At bay we pray for those that died
O sun and moon and stars above
Lend us the strength to make this shove!
Red yelled and stomped once more. His hoof squelched in ripped fur. He crushed his cheek to the shoulder ahead of him. Riveted mail scraped his nostril. The front rank gained one more step, and a battle roar surged from Shetland’s throats.
Thump! Thump! Thump! Thwack!
The Wrothkin should have broken then. Their bodies packed the ditch, squirming, and piled atop the sloping shields above. Deer flopped over backward into the next rank, pierced again and again, unable to fall. Instead they redoubled their efforts, and beat upon the shields of the Shetlanders with twice as much fury. Thump!Thump!Thump!Thump!THWACK!
But in their fury the Wrothkin only drummed the cadence of the next verse. Scrip’s voice rose higher. Bardiche’s voice boomed deeper. The brothers led the song together.
Ancestor thanes of yore
Now we sing as before!
For fathers! For brothers!
For sisters! For mothers!
For our sons and daughters!
FOR IRONWING!
Thump!Thump!Thump!Thump!THWACK! An axe of antler bone split the shield ahead of Red. The shieldbearer screamed with his hock flayed wide. Red’s gut roiled and he prepared himself for the moment he would leap forward to take the warrior’s place.
But the thane kept singing through gritted teeth and dagger. His lyrics were not stifled. They resonated clear as crystal throughout the ranks.
Come foes and quench your thirst
We hold the barricade!
Drink your fill, call us cursed
Till our debt to kin’s paid!
Know you came to Boardwall
For us to see you fall!
Red’s heart leaped, and he roared approval around a mouthful of hilt. The stench of blood filled his head. He swallowed the taste of copper and iron.
Now the Shetlanders stomped in place. They could press no further. Red could not see it, but he knew the sharpened stakes on either flank were packed with corpses. Battle still raged ahead in the front rank. Antlers battered shields, and thanes replied in turn. Deer spilled over deer. Puddles overflowed. Still the Wrothkin attacked, angrier than hornets. Thump!Thump!Thump!Thump!THWACK!
For our sons and daughters! For Ashbane! For Old Althing! For IRONWING!
A thane on Red’s left still fought, though broken antler stuck from his eye. He opened his mouth to join the refrain. Outside, with spears in its gut, a deer stood hindlegged and stabbed its rack between shields.
Thump!Thump!Thump!Thump!THWACK! Darts of bone shot through. The thane’s refrain ended. His head jerked back, jaw transfixed, and he fell screaming under Red.
Stand fast! In the gap!
Our shields! Overlap!
The deer shoved its way inward. Skin bulged and spearpoints slid out its back. Red’s blade locked with a hook of bone, even as the antler regrew before his eyes. He twisted just in time to lever his edge against the threat. A sharp snag cut his brow. Antler grated on steel.
Outlast! Mind your eye!
Time to do or die!
Two more spears thrust into the offending Wrothkin’s head where Red pinned it. He jerked his sword free. A new thane stepped in to plug the gap with her shield.
Hooves raked at Red’s vest. He glanced down. He saw too much. He yanked his eyes rearward.
“Scrip! Get the wounded clear!” Red yelled at the top of his lungs and barely heard himself. How could these Shetlanders sing in such madness?
The lad ducked under Red. He dragged the blind stallion out by the tail. But the screams never left.
Earth ponies guard our flanks
Bite the haft, sound their knell!
Unicorns, split their ranks!
Take aim with bow and spell!
Make safe the blackened sky
For pegasi to fly!
High above, Wild Stormwind perched behind the shields that lined broch Boardwall’s roof. He hugged the banner that was his charge, and he watched his twin drag a writhing thane to safety. His stomach churned to see Wistful Scrip so bloody. Good! Now get inside and stay!
“Storm!” Nail Biter flew in and rolled across the thatch. He tossed a roll of belts and blades in Stormwind’s lap. “Strap this on!”
“Finally taking me hunting?” Stormwind tossed his banner to old, crippled Gaolbird.
“Shut up and strap it!” Nail cinched his own hoofaxe tight to a foreleg. “That skintface thaumaturge is still out there. And it’s soon to make its next move, or my soul mark’s a liar!”
“That a hunch?” Stormwind looped a belt of knives around his neck.
“Eh?” Nail’s snarl turned grin. “That’s a fact.”
Stormwind frowned. That was not reassuring.
Nail launched off in a grey streak, and Stormwind followed him into the clouds. His gut tied itself in knots while his teeth tied laces. Below, unicorns skirmished behind the shieldwall in clusters. Wrothkin flanked them on all sides, leaping from stacks of the slain.
For our sons and daughters! For Ashbane! For Old Althing! For IRONWING!
Blue Steel’s twin swords wiped through Wrothkin necks. The slayer from Ponyland struck ahead and behind like a whirlwind. His horn flashed, and a shield shattered the instant it formed around his friend.
Quiver felt what should have been a fatal blow as a stiff breeze. Motes of blue spell died around him. He lashed out with one hind hoof, and broke his attacker’s jaw. Without breaking stride he loosed an arrow and pulled four more in his magic.
A leaping doe caught Quiver’s arrow in the eye. She flopped, jerking, across Hornwin’s back. He staggered, bucked the corpse off, and launched it with a kick onto another Wrothkin’s antlers. The charging stag tumbled into Hornwin’s claymore.
Blue Steel was there to stop the next one. And the next one. His blades fluttered and blurred from deer to deer. But it wasn’t enough. His mane flung sweat in all directions. His haunches bumped Hornwin’s, and Hornwin bumped Quiver’s empty namesake.
Until the last arrow flies!
And the last warrior dies!
Red’s shoulder and knee burned under the weight of his shield. Two or three slain deer lay atop him. But the ponies ahead had it worse. They held back the crush of deer that actively pushed back. Red shouted every encouragement he could think of.
Old Scop’s voice startled him. Red glanced back, but the codger was not there. He searched left and right, down long tunnels of pony backs under a shield canopy. Teeth flashed, legs trembled. Scop continued to sing, but he was not to be seen.
Chew the hilt, stand your ground!
Await the horn command!
Friend and foe, dead abound
This is not our last stand!
Hold your shield, cross your eye
Resound the battle cry!
In the clouds Stormwind followed glimpses of Nail Biter through a mist slurry. When his brother banked and dived, Stormwind was ready to dive with him. Ashbane’s proudest sons broke through the storm and skimmed treetops. The Broch loomed far on the left. A sea of nettles thrashed their wings. Stormwind drew a dirk and the wind scoured his teeth.
There was no room for words. Nail submerged. He weaved between treetops sharp and fast. Stormwind matched every pivot and read each intent. When Nail flared his wings to brake, Stormwind braked beside him. It came down to instinct, familiarity, the twitch of an ear that said this is it, bank left!
For our sons and daughters! For Ashbane! For Old Althing! For IRONWING!
They swooped around the tall trees into a clearing twelve feet across. In the blue shadows of the wood Stormwind counted six fawns around a seventh figure. He aimed for the center of the fawns, at a standing skeleton which warped the air around its many-tined rack.
Feathers buzzed in the wind. Nail fell with him, suicidally fast, hooves outstretched, their axes raised high. Six fawns turned to face them. No, they were six dead unicorns!
Thump!Thump!Thump!Thump!THWACK!
Ancestor thanes of yore
Now we sing as before!
For fathers! For brothers!
For sisters! For mothers!
For our sons and daughters!
FOR IRONWING!
The thane ahead of Red could not last much longer. Metal and bone carved through his shield, and blood welled from an ear’s stump. Still the stallion fought on. The mare on the left died gurgling and was replaced by another, smaller mare.
Red thrust his sword across her shoulder and met a skull. Antler tines snagged his steel and twisted, but Red pursed his lips and yanked free. A wild eye peered in, and the mare struck it with her helm. Her jaw wrenched a bloody dagger from the Wrothkin’s head.
Red stabbed again. Then again. And again. Red’s cheeks ached. An artery squirted up his nose. Strings of blood gummed his eyelashes. Screams flayed his spine.
Stand fast! In the gap!
Our shields! Overlap!
Two central shields buckled. In a moment four ponies were dead. Wrothkin swarmed in, slashing and mauling and kicking and ramming.
Into that gap swung Bardiche. With a winding-up yell he scythed them down. A skull twirled into the clouds. He stemmed the tide, still yelling, and with the pole of his axe he shoved back the deer. Shieldbearers piled in with him, kicking and stabbing. They rebuilt the wall.
For our sons and daughters! For Ashbane! For Old Althing! For IRONWING!
Yet more deer mounted Red’s shield. Spikes of bone thudded, and one pierced wood by his knee. He stabbed upward, cut a belly, stabbed again, and spilled a torrent of maggots into his mane.
Until the last arrow flies!
And the last warrior dies!
Behind the shields, Angharad’s magic tore another arrow from a corpse. She swung her bladebow around, caught a deer’s leg in the crook, and let loose. The bladebow sprang open, severing the deer’s leg, and her arrow sank into its eye socket. Already she yanked another arrow. A golden string tucked the flights to the scar on her cheek. More deer climbed the stakes on the left. She aimed—
A pegasus fell from the sky and flattened Angharad. Wings flapped in her mouth, and broken arrows scratched mud from her neck.
Fear neither pain nor death!
Our necks are not broken!
Dig deep for blood and breath!
Fate is not forespoken!
Bend steel and bear the brunt
To steer futures in the current!
Wistful Scrip squeezed back through the ranks to Red’s flank. With a cry he warned of danger.
Now came the ancient soldiers of the deer. In rusting armor they leaped atop their scions and plied spears into the shields. The wounded thane ahead of Red met them bravely. Spearpoints filled the thane’s shield. Thump!Thump!Thump!Thump!THWACK!
Ye who die a thousand times!
Face the sentence for your crimes!
Red struck and cut, notched one spear and then another, then locked with a third. With a twist he blocked the path of a fourth. But a fifth spear crossed through. It plunged in the neck of the thane ahead.
Death is not a sad state
We go to heavens high
Where those who die await!
Follow me o’ hearth-companions
In the tracks of olden chieftains!
With blood gushing from a second mouth below his chin, the thane rose and fought again. In his jaws he trapped the spear that ended him.
For our sons and daughters! For Ashbane! For Old Althing! For IRONWING!
Spearpoints clicked and snagged. Shield rims bent and splinters cracked. Old Yule Tide locked his spear with the foe’s and pressed his shoulder to Bardiche’s flank. Beside him old Scop lent his strength, and a spear nicked his ear.
Stand fast! In the gap!
Our shields! Overlap!
Behind the shield wall a mare ran headlong into Blue Steel. They tangled up in the mud.
“Watch—“ Blue gasped when the pony stabbed him.
Ye who die a thousand times!
Face the sentence for your crimes!
Hornwin yanked the mare off his uncle, and she stabbed him too. But the dirk in her teeth had already snapped against Blue’s chainmail.
“What...” Hornwin raised his claymore.
Until the last arrow flies!
And the last warrior dies!
Over the palisade and beyond the field of mud, one last spellbeam flashed in the woods. A bough cracked and fell with an aching groan. It blossomed smoke across the forest floor.
The deer thaumaturge was a mangled mess. Its dry skin flaked in the wind, and its lantern eyes flickered out. A hoof split its skull.
Stormwind wiped his hoofaxe on the last of the six dead unicorns. He stood, his heart on fire, and bells rang in his ears. The forest stunk of lightning, burnt hair, and latrine pits. Shreds of bark fluttered down to blanket the once-again-dead, and Nail Biter stood frozen in the smoke.
“Why...” Nail lifted his hoof from the blood of ponies.
The shock hadn’t settled yet. But slowly realization dawned. These were ponies. Not deer. They were ponies. Six dead unicorns.
“Nail! We’re too late!”
For our sons and daughters! For Ashbane! For Old Althing! For IRONWING!
Angharad wrestled with the dying pegasus atop her. She saw the dagger just in time, and caught it in her magic. The point strained at her throat. The pegasus hadn’t fallen on her by accident.
“Stop!” She screamed. “What—“
Three swords crossed in magic. Together, Hornwin and Blue Steel snipped the pegasus’ head off. Maggots crawled in its stump even as dead wings flapped.
“They are among us!”
Ancestor thanes of yore
Now we sing as before!
For fathers! For brothers!
For sisters! For mothers!
For our sons and daughters!
FOR—
But in that moment the Shetlanders did not hear the warnings of Blue Steel, Hornwin, and Angharad. They did not notice as infiltrators cut throats and tackled spearponies in the back rank. And in that moment the thane ahead of Red collapsed, his shield riven asunder like his body. Red saw the light drain from his eyes and the lyrics tip from his lips.
Red did not see the knives at his back. But he saw the gap ahead, and he saw the Wrothkin hook shields on either side. Spears bristled and antlers too. Chainmail links burst. Ponies screamed.
And Red saw a Bloody Pasture.
His wordless scream erupted from an already hoarse throat. He leaped back into Pastern Vale, and headlong into the Wrothkin. A dozen spears and antlers met his charge. With legs and shield he beat them down. His scream burned on. His sword whirred. Red was a dervish. Steel cut steel. Sparks glittered. Brittle skulls flaked and cracked. No faces lay beneath.
One Wrothkin bit Red’s sword. He crushed its dead snout with his shield, and seized back his blade in the crook of his leg. He sliced the top of its head away. Already he pivoted into the next cut, through one antler and into another. Red twisted forward, hooked his crossguard with one leg, and the sword whirled free to gash a neck.
Red lunged, hooves to his blade, and caught four more antlers. A spear thudded into his vest. His hooves trenched backward until, meeting a corpse, he found purchase. Another spear bit his shield, nicked his leg.
And then Wistful Scrip plunged after, with his axe wheeling behind his shield. Without fear the once-peaceful son of Ashbane brained a deer.
Red turned sideface, and dumped his attackers facefirst. Wistful Scrip’s hooves joined his in stamping them. Spears scattered before their shields, behind which hummed sword and axe.
Had the ranks only seen this display of suicidal courage, ponies might have won the day. But Scrip’s brother Bardiche had already turned to find the threat behind. Yule Tide turned with him. Only Scop saw his apprentice charge with Red. Focus scattered.
That was how it was done. That was how the formation broke. And the song ended.
In a frenzied melee ponies turned against ponies, and the Wrothkin seized their chance. Teeth shattered. Corpses writhed. Weapons tangled as a forest of branches in a winter storm.
Beyond the palisade, beyond the field of mud, row upon row of Wrothkin archers picked up their bows. Magic bowstrings glittered in the gloom, and bladebows affixed once again to antler cradles.
As one the bows turned upward to see two pegasi shoot out of the treetops. The archers watched with rictus grins as Stormwind and Nail raced to the Broch.
Arrows followed them across the sky. Rank upon rank of Wrothkin archers marched forward. With every third step they launched another volley.
Behind them came a host of cervid bones. Armor adamant phased from black to brown as dead caribou left the treeline. Crystalline breastplates sparkled on elk that were more dust than flesh. Spears of the red deer still flew moth-eaten banners. With them marched grave ponies. Where eyes had rotted out, blue wisps shone in sockets.
Atop the Broch, old Gaolbird alone saw the coming host. He blew three blasts on his warhorn, before a shaft nailed his leg to his chest. Arrows rained from the clouds. Within moments the thatch was a pincushion, as was every shield upon it.
Stormwind flew in low. Nail saw the arrows arcing in and diverted. He shouted after his half-brother.
“Storm! Wait!”
Stormwind saw the arrows too. Still he zipped across the melee and banked into a climbing spiral. Tears streamed from eyes pulled open, and his lips rippled back from gritted teeth. A snake of wind curled down from the clouds.
Around and around he flew, faster, faster! Arrows tangled and snapped in his wake. He corkscrewed into a figure-eight. One vortex split into two. Twin whirlwinds sucked arrows up from the mud, and blades too.
This was it… Just one more. With bleeding gums Stormwind flung himself upside down, between his vortexes. Arrows chased him and could not catch him. But his vortexes did, and sucked him back just as planned. He reversed direction and flapped with all his might. Into a Triskelion. The triple spiral.
A third vortex was born.
Below, those who sought to escape the battlefield only ran straight under Wrothkin volleys. But less and less of each volley landed as the Triskelion vortices grew.
Stormwind saw none of this. His legs stretched out lifeless in the whirlwinds. With his lips peeled back and gums rippling, he saw only the dark of the stars.
---
Boardwall’s doors creaked open. A single thane limped out with an Equestrian sword for a crutch. Under his helm and chainmail were bloody bandages. Under that was a coat of silver fur, dappled cobalt. His sword-crutch was mirror polished. Its pure white blade sank in the mud, and its ruby pommel gleamed under his armpit.
The wounded thane looked up as triplet vortices sucked away the volley meant for him.
“Thatta boy, Stormwind.” Roanblade said.
No more arrows fell. A stream of bloodied and arrow-shot ponies reached the Broch. Roanblade nodded to them, and wore a smile that belied his pain.
“Renvers!” He shouted over his shoulder. “They’re coming.”
The green mare gathered the doors in her magic and flung them wider. Gale winds tore at the hinges. Oaken beams groaned. Every mane and tail was pulled skyward.
“Go! Go! Go!” Lush Renvers waved pony after pony through.
“We come too.” Twin hulks squeezed out of the broch. Skewer supported his brother Hewer. The mighty pegasus’ tongue lolled out, as white as Roanblade’s Equestrian sword.
“Go back to your daddy, boys.” Roanblade watched the triple vortices darken with mud. Soon clouds would drink the dead. “I’ll bring your brothers back.”
“No.”
“Fine then.”
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You've BEEN featured! I'm going to give this a read.
Imgur link :D
9594172
Oh dear.
I hope they read the author note at the top of the latest chapter. And at the top of the story description.