When The Snow Melts

by Bluespectre

Chapter Thirty Seven - The Blade's Edge

CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN

THE BLADE’S EDGE

“Fall back to the house! Stran, give us cover!”

Chert and his men crashed through the front door of the house, slamming it shut behind them as a rattle of gunfire rang out from the upper floor, the sound muffled by the already thick fog and smoke. The ground outside was carpeted with yellow-coated warriors, some of whom had been caught in the initial blast, many more by the carefully constructed ambush. It had worked to a degree, but the fog and the sheer number of Saru’s warriors was never-ending. Thank the gods that they did not know the layout of the village and had apparently become lost in the haphazard maze of buildings.

Something else was going on out there; however, that wasn’t part of the plan. There’d been a number of additional explosions around the village that they hadn’t expected. Initially, he had wondered if it was Ire’s doing, some distraction to try and break up Saru’s forces. Although he didn’t entirely trust the young lord, he only had to see the looks of surprise on the faces of his men to have his answer. Was it Saru’s doing? And what the hell had gone wrong anyway? Wasn’t that reed cutter supposed to have stabbed him? Someone had said it had been Cray the blacksmith who blew himself and Saru to pieces, nearly taking Lord Ire with them. What the hell was he thinking, blowing himself up? Now Ire, having barely avoided being killed, had run off into the village with a couple of his men for some bloody stupid reason.

He shook his head, wiping his sword on a curtain. Jinu would play hell with him later for it, of course, but right now there were more immediate concerns. With all the chaos out there, Chert had no idea what was going on more than a few feet from his own home. He stared out into the all-pervasive fog, squinting and straining to separate form from the shadows. Soon enough, yet another yellow-coated warrior charged recklessly at them, only to be quickly taken down a moment later by a shot from the upper floor.

Stran called down, “You alright, Boss?”

“Yeah. Damn it, Stran, how many of these fools are there?” Chert’s voice held a note of exasperation that belied the feeling of worry that gnawed at him.

“Dunno, but we’re running out of powder and arrows.”

Chert shook his head, leaning on the door frame, his men watching him expectantly. They all looked exhausted, and not a few sported numerous wounds and bandages. Jinu was sending those with minor injuries back to the fight where she could, but it was an uphill struggle. If this kept up, they could lose this fight, and then it would all be over.

Where the hell was Ire? Many of his warriors had stayed here to help defend the house but had dispersed out into the fog with all the fighting. Many of his own men had been assigned to protect the mill as part of Ire’s plan as well, but the focus of many of the attacks was still the main house. Some of his men hurried out to check the bodies, retrieving any of their own wounded and recovering weapons and scavenging for any supplies they could use.

Mercifully, the shouts and yelling of soldiers had died down, but now the sound of crackling wood from the numerous fires added a disturbing layer of uncertainty and fear to the household. It was the unknown, the—

“What the hell is that?” one of the gang shouted and pointed to a dark shape that charged past them at full tilt.

“It’s just a horse. Calm down will you; you nearly gave me a heart attack!”

Chert stared, dread biting at his very being. “Pull back to the house, all of you! Now!”

An unearthly howl, the likes of which Chert had never heard, echoed out from the fog. Its hideous cry, like all the souls of hell trying to escape torment, froze his soul. His men stood there like statues, their faces pale and eyes wide in terror. What… What was that? It was getting closer as well, the howling never stopping, it didn’t—

There was a flash of silver and black, a crashing noise, and one of the men went down, nearly cleaved in two, blood spraying in a grisly fountain of gore.

Shaken from his fear-induced stupor, Chert began grabbing his men, hauling them into the house. “Get furniture, anything you can get your hands on. Barricade the house!”

From outside, the thunder of hooves and the clash of steel intensified, together with that terrible howling that pierced their ears, their courage faltering. One of the girls rushed out from the back of the house, her hands and apron stained with the evidence of her work with the wounded.

“It’s here, isn’t it?” She looked up at Chert, who nodded, his hand gripping his sword so tightly that it began to throb.

“Are the girls safe, Belle? I asked Jinu to keep them—”

He never got a chance to finish before his world turned to fire.

*********************

Ire and Rush watched in horror as the main house appeared to bulge outward, as though it were an old man taking a shuddering breath, before a blinding flash and eruption of debris overwhelmed their senses. In a heartbeat, what had once been the boss’ home was reduced to fragments that rained down all around them.

Ire’s mouth hung open. “This… This isn’t Saru’s men. It’s that thing!”

Rush shook his head. “It’s a diversion; it has to be. The thestral is after the princess. It wants us to divert our forces there.”

Ire grabbed Rush’s tunic. “Rush, go to the princess and get her out of here. I’ll do what I can at the house. There’ll be people trapped in there.”

“But—”

The lord stared at Rush in the eyes. “Damn it, man, she loves you, can’t you see that? If there’s one thing I know, it’s women, and even if she looks different, she’s still female.” He roughly turned Rush in the direction of the storehouse. “For the gods’ sake, man, go!”

Without another word, Ire headed off back to the boss’ house, his heart pounding. He couldn’t think straight—in fact, right now, he didn’t want to either. Acting on instinct meant he didn’t have to think on what he may find when he got there. He had only just met the girl, and yet her smile, her cheeky demeanour, had swayed his heart the way he’d never imagined possible. She was indentured to the boss, but he had already spoken to him about releasing her, and although reluctant, Chert had agreed. Ire had left her there to keep her safe and…

Damn it! He didn’t want to think about this now!

Running through the dense fog, Ire managed to pick up a few of his men along the way. They, like many of the other combatants, had become lost in the poor visibility and unfamiliar surroundings. The explosion at the house had been like a signal fire. Together with his small entourage, Ire arrived at where, only seemingly minutes earlier, he’d been sat chatting with Chert over a cup of tea.

His mouth hung open. A large building, the boss’ home looked like a cake that a giant had taken a bite out of. Men and women staggered around both inside and outside the ruined hulk, many sporting cuts, burns, or staggering around in shock and confusion. Smoke was everywhere, but…

“Belle!” Ire shouted. “BELLE!”

One of Chert’s men hurried over, his hair half-burned away and blood dripping down his torn sleeve. “Lord Ire? Thank the gods. Please, follow me.”

Ire grabbed him. “Listen… please… do you know if Belle is alright? Do you know where she is?”

The man paused, his brow furrowed. “I… I’m sorry, Lord Ire, I don’t. I don’t know her very well and everything’s such a mess…”

Ire nodded. “Yes, you’re right, I’m sorry.” He took a deep breath. “Lead on.”

The building was still standing, for the most part. The more intact sections were rapidly being filled with a steady stream of warriors carrying their wounded comrades in for care. By the looks of it, the blast had taken out the opposite wing to where the injured were being cared for. Was that deliberate, or a mistake on their attacker’s part? Ire strained to see past the mass of smoking wreckage and injured. Maybe she was in there?

“Lord Ire?”

He looked round, struggling to spot the boss amongst the press of people, but sure enough, there he was. Chert sat on the remains of a now much-damaged wooden chest, being rather enthusiastically bandaged by one of the many young women who worked at the house. He was covered in dust, bruised and battered, but very much alive.

“Boss Chert, thank the gods you’re alright.”

Chert nodded, wincing in pain at the movement. “Thank you, my lord. I’m glad to see you weren’t caught in that last explosion.”

Ire shook his head. “Chert, look, we have to secure this place as best we can. I’m going to try and pull as many of our forces back here as I can find. What about your people?”

“Most are at the mill, keeping an eye on the villagers, but we can’t pull them away from there or—”

“I know.” Ire held up a hand, nodding. “I want this place turning into a fortress, Chert: gunners, archers, anyone who can hold a weapon.”

Chert closed his eyes, nodding slowly. “We’ll use what we can to barricade the entrances as well as the bloody great hole that blast left.”

“Boss!” one of the gang members called from around the corner that led to the staircase. “Boss, quick! It’s your daughter, she’s…”

Chert paled. “Lord Ire, please?”

The lord nodded grimly as Chert rushed off up the stairs. He could take care of matters here. He could only hope the girl was safe, yet right now, if he didn’t do something, there would be a hell of a lot more to worry about than the safety of one person amongst this nightmare.

Taking the steps two at a time, his bandage trailing behind him, the boss of the village swung around the entry to his daughter’s room to find… nothing. It was gone, a gaping hole in the building and the prone form of a woman in a green dress by the doorway.

“Jinu?”

“B… Boss?” She coughed. “I’m sorry…”

Chert slipped his hands under her and gently lifted her head. She was covered in burns and splinters of wood. Her voice was faint… rasping.

“We only came upstairs to… to find her… teddy. It was only… only for a…”

The boss held Jinu’s head to his chest. “It’s alright, Jinu, I know…”

She was gone, his precious daughter, the one he’d never had a chance to get to know the way he should have. Jinu shook in his arms.

“Boss? I… I’m so sorry.”

One of the girls appeared, carrying a case of medical equipment. “We’ll take her, Boss.”

“No!” Jinu tried to sit up suddenly and cried out in pain. “Chert, please! I always wanted to… to tell you…” She squeezed her eyes shut tight, then opened them painfully, stretching out her hand to his cheek. “I… I…”

The light went out in Jinu’s eyes, her hand dropping limply from Chert’s face. The woman in the green dress, the one who had been with him since he was a young man… she was gone. Chert leaned down and kissed her gently, closing her eyes.

“I know.”

Two of his men appeared and bowed respectfully. Carefully, they collected Jinu’s body, gently prising her away from Chert’s grip. He sat in a daze, staring off into the space where his daughter’s room had been, where his daughter had been. He’d lost them both. He’d lost everything…

The building creaked ominously around him, the smoke still as thick as ever in the choking, cloying fog. Despite the time of year, the heat was unbearable. Chert sat in silence, looking down at his hands, still stained with Jinu’s blood. Why? Why had this happened?

Collapsing to the floor, the boss felt tears stinging his eyes, flowing out along with the pain in his heart. Almost as if it belonged to someone else, he vaguely noticed his hand had touched something… something soft. Looking down through his watery vision, his gaze alighted upon the sad, singed remains of the small toy bear he’d bought for his daughter last year. She’d loved that thing, more than anything else he’d ever gotten her before.

She’d hugged him so tightly, he thought she’d cracked a rib. He was the best daddy ever.

Chert folded his arms around the precious object and howled out his grief and fury at the world. His daughter, his wife, Jinu… Dear gods, was there anyone else left to take? Why hadn’t they taken him instead?

“Damn you!” he shouted out at the sky. “DAMN YOU ALL TO HELL!”

A gust of wind suddenly sprung up, the blast catching him and making his eyes water all the more. Something large, something foreboding, was flapping down out of the fog and smoke, right in front of him.

“Daddy? Daddy!”

Chert stared, aghast, his eyes feeling like they were bulging out of their sockets. “Swallow?”

A small child, with hair as black as the creature that held her in its forelegs, waved down to him enthusiastically. Her clothes smouldered and a bit of her hair had burned away, but she was remarkably unharmed. The great beast holding her in its grip slowly moved closer, extending its legs out to place the child into the embrace of her trembling father.

The boss held his daughter to his chest and squeezed her for all he was worth.

“Daddy! Not so tight!” Swallow giggled as her father kissed her forehead.

Before him, the winged creature’s eyes blazed. “Keep her safe, human.”

“Who… are you?”

The thing shook its mane. “Thorn.”

Stran suddenly appeared behind the boss, levelling his gun at the flying creature. Chert moved like lightning, quickly grabbing the barrel and moving it away from its intended target. He glanced up at his subordinate and shook his head solemnly.

Thorn stared back at them for a moment and snorted, before turning around in a blast of wind and flying off back into the fog.

*****************

Celestia lay on the reed mat, inhaling its fragrance. Despite the time she’d spent in here, it still smelled fresh, reminding her of the workshop… and Rush. For the first time in a long time, she was completely at a loss as to what to do. She’d given her word to the elder that she wouldn’t try to escape, and her magic was still blocked. Now Rush…

She hid her face with a foreleg, closing her eyes. Why? Why had he agreed to do something so… wrong? Saru may be a cruel man—she had seen it in his eyes all too well—but to kill him? The chances were that Saru’s men would kill Rush and she would never see him again, at least not in this life. She felt a flood of cold run through her body. What could she do? She could probably buck the door open, charge out and… then what? Find Rush somehow, with half the village after her, and fly off into the hills? With no magic, she felt hamstrung.

Reaching down inside herself, the princess could sense her magic. It was so close, yet just out of reach, like trying to catch a bar of soap in the bath. If she concentrated hard enough, she might be able to catch it. A few minutes passed with no success. Stomping a hoof against the wall, she rose to her hooves and gave herself a shake, resettling her wings against her sides. She’d made her decision—

The door to the storehouse opened suddenly, and the princess backed up. She’d entice whoever it was to open the door and then…

“Celestia?”

She sighed in relief. “Elder Huro? What brings you here?”

The old man produced the key to her cell from a pocket and unlocked the door. “I know what’s happening,” he said with a note of sadness, “and I fear I know what’s going to happen.”

She looked at him quizzically. Huro clapped his hands, and two villagers appeared carrying cloth sacks. “These are yours, Princess. I’m afraid that this is as much as I can do.” He gave her a sad look. “I can’t get the villagers involved, you understand. The rest is up to you now.”

Celestia looked on in shock as the bags were opened and the burnished golden armour within them was revealed. Huro leaned down and unwrapped the last one, taking out the long deadly shape of the halberd. He knelt down and, if rather shakily, held out the weapon for her inspection.

The princess’ gaze slid along the lethal pole arms’ length. It had been her mother’s, honed and polished countless times, and used in more battles than she could ever imagine. It was an ancient thing, elegant and graceful, yet with a deadly purpose, and now, today, she had a new one.

Instinctively, Celestia tried to take the weapon in her magic, which stuttered and sparked. It was something, but still not enough… damn that thestral! He had done this to her! She rose on her hind legs and took the halberd in her hooves, remembering the feel of it. The two villagers stood back quickly, watching her with worried glances.

Celestia nodded approvingly to herself, then looked down at the armour. Normally she used magic or had assistants to help her, and now she was acutely aware of the need to be swift.

She glanced at Huro, who smiled and bobbed his head. “May I?”

Celestia bowed. “Of course. I would be honoured.”

Grinning like a child, Huro began placing the armour on her as she instructed. Each section was strapped into place, one piece at a time. The village elder marvelled at the craftsmanship of the metal, the inscriptions, the scrollwork—it was magnificent. As the pieces came together, he could see how they interacted with one another, the joints articulating and sliding effortlessly with the mare’s movements. Finally, the last piece was lowered into place, covering her forehead.

Huro stood back as Celestia turned to face him, ruffling her wings, readjusting to the feel of armour on her back. He smiled at her, his expression full of wonder.

“I can see how men fall in love with you so easily, your Majesty…”

Celestia looked away, blushing. “Huro, please…”

He just laughed, “Forgive an old man’s foolishness, Princess.”

She shook her head, a small feeling of gaiety washing through her despite the situation. “There’s nothing to forgive, Huro.” The princess leaned forward and nuzzled him gently. “Thank you.”

Huro turned bright red, wiping his forehead with a sleeve before stepping back. “I fear we may never meet again, Princess.” He smiled. “You will be going home now?”

She nodded sadly. “I will be, but first, I need to find somepony.”

“Rush?”

Celestia gave him a knowing look, and Huro laughed. “I understand!”

The smile was still on Huro’s face as he looked down at the sword blade that protruded through his chest. The last sight he had of this world, as the darkness filtered in, was of the princess rearing, a glow around her as bright as the sun, filling the room. She truly was the goddess of the sun…

*****************

Rush’s sword flashed, taking down another of Saru’s men who were grouped outside the storehouse. Two had already run inside, and he’d be damned if he’d let the princess be cornered by those rats. One of the warriors swung his sword, his inexperience showing all too clearly. The young one had leaned too far forward, and Rush stepped nimbly into the gap, ramming the hilt of sword into the lad’s throat before parrying the next attack that came in from his right. The warriors around him seemed unsure of themselves despite their numbers, hanging back and waiting for one another to make the next move. If they all rushed him at once, he wouldn’t stand a chance. The only thing he could do was to keep moving and take them down one by one.

The next warrior fell, but not before a slash across Rush’s leg near felled him. Any deeper and that would have been it, a quick end to a fruitless display of heroics. It was results that mattered here, and now was the time for work. He drew his reed knife, using it to deflect the next warrior’s strike and bringing his own sword down in a deadly arc. The air filled with a spray of crimson as the others began to back away. Rush stared at them, just as they disappeared in a blinding flash of golden light.

The heat and glare from the blast made him reflexively cover his eyes. That was no explosion! He recognised the glow, the tingling feel of magic… Tia’s magic.

Stepping through the large hole in the building, bathed in a glow like the summer sun, strode a majestic figure in golden armour, her pristine white coat creating a magnificent contrast of colour.

Rush stared in awe at the mare, the leader of the Celestian army, the Princess of Equestria… Celestia.

The princess nodded towards the bodies of Saru’s men. “They killed Huro and the two villagers who came to help me,” she said levelly, her eyes full of anger. “They came to help me, and they murdered them without a word, Rush, without a word!” She looked down at him and frowned, before charging forward and catching him up in her forelegs. “Oh, Rush! You…!”

He reached out to embrace her but suddenly found himself roughly pushed away. “Have you any idea how angry I am with you right now?!” Rush’s mouth opened to speak, the princess shaking her head as she advanced on him. “Ponies aren’t killers, Rush. They don’t murder; they don’t assassinate!”

He backed up involuntarily, stammering. “T-Tia…?” A wall blocked any progress, as the princess filled his vision against the backdrop of fog, smoke, and fire.

Her forelegs slammed into the wall either side of his head, her eyes gazing into his. “I don’t want to feel that way again, Rush. Watching you walking away like that, knowing what you were going to do…” She brought her muzzle closer. “I don’t want… to feel…”

Her lips were so close, the smell of her coat, her slowly closing eyes. Rush reached for her—

A howl cut through the air, followed by a gust of wind and searing heat. The thin flame cut through the snow before them a split second after Celestia dragged Rush out of its path. Above them, the black shape quickly faded back into the fog.

“Damn it!” Rush spat. “As if being able to fly isn’t bad enough, the bloody thing can breathe fire as well?!”

The princess glared at the thestral, spreading her wings. “We have to stop it, Rush. If we don’t, it will just keep on killing until either it’s killed, or there’s nopony left alive.”

Rush gritted his teeth, his grip on his sword becoming almost painful. He owed these people nothing… nothing! They’d thrown them both in those damned cells, and now the reaper had come to claim their rotten souls. A shock of pain from the gash on his leg lanced through him, making him wince. He stared up at the sky where the monstrous creature had disappeared.

“They sowed the seeds of their own destruction. Let them reap it.”

Celestia stood back, looking into his eyes with a searching gaze. “You don’t mean that, Rush.”

“I do.” Rush hung his head, hot anger seething through his veins. “To hell with them, Tia. After what they did to you, I couldn’t give a damn if every last one of them became food for that monster.”

Celestia shook her mane, placing a hoof on his shoulder. “Rush, you’re hurting right now. I can see it in your eyes, and your soul. These people did what they did because they were frightened, and frightened people do strange things. There’s good in them, I know it. Elder Huro, Lord Ire, Boss Chert, all men with good qualities. And what about Nasta and his family? They may not be Equestrians, but they still have ties to you, and who you are.”

The princess gave Rush a nudge with her muzzle. “You don’t know much of our people and culture, Rush, but helping others is the Equestrian way. We don’t abandon others, no matter how much they may have caused us pain.” She ruffled her wings. “I won’t force you. It’s your choice… and your life.”

Rush was frozen with indecision, his heart conflicting with his deep-seated resentment of the village and all it stood for. But… Nasta, Petal, the girls…

Celestia leaned forward and kissed him softly on his forehead, a single tear rolling down her face as she stepped back. Hanging her head, her horn glowed briefly, her wings outstretched. With a look a grief passing across her face, she glanced back at Rush before launching into the sky.

He stared at his hands, the sword in one hand and his reed knife in the other. It was all his fears, all his nightmares, rolled into one. His mind was a roaring tempest of confused thoughts and emotions. No matter how hard he tried, Rush’s body refused to move; that one word, that simple word burning through everything else.

“Goodbye.”

The way she’d looked back at him over her wing, her eyes wet with tears. He’d been too afraid, too cowardly to go with her and stop that creature. Self-loathing and hatred dragged Rush down into the dark depths, a hole opening up inside and swallowing him down. Collapsing to the ground, he closed his eyes and felt the tears trickle down his face. He was… nothing…

“What the hell are you waiting for, human?” Thorn landed in a plume of snow and ice, settling his wings and shaking his mane angrily. "Why are you here? Where’s the princess?” He reached out with his forehooves and grabbed Rush, shoving him roughly up against the wall behind him. “I said, ‘Where is she’?”

The thestral’s glowing eyes were flickering a bright crimson, his sweat-soaked hide shining beneath his black armour. Rush’s mouth was dry, the words refusing to come out. With a hacking cough, he finally managed to speak:

“She’s gone.”

“Gone? What do mean ‘she’s gone’?”

“She… She flew off to find the thestral that’s attacking the village…”

“WHAT?!” Thorn was incensed, his tail swishing from side to side furiously. “Then what in the goddess’ name are you doing here then, human?”

Rush stared past him, his eyes vacant. Thorn had seen warriors frozen with indecision before, but judging by the human’s injuries and the blood on his weapons, he’d been involved in the fighting, so what had caused this? He spat on the ground and stared Rush in the face.

“Get up.” The man stared back at him, a distant look haunting his features. “GET UP!”

A shock of realisation flashed across Rush’s face, the gravity of the situation he was in finally beginning to dawn on him. Thorn nodded and stepped back.

“Get on my back. We’re going after her.”

Rush hesitated a moment, before taking a deep breath and shaking himself free of the heavy shackles of doubt. The major smiled at the change in the human. The fire was back in his eyes, the fight returning along with something else: determination. Rush grabbed hold of the strange armour and hauled himself onto the thestral’s back. Grunting under the added weight, Thorn gave himself a shake to resettle his armour and tried to ignore the strange feeling of being ridden… again!

“Take the crossbow and hang on, Rush.”

A second later, the major lumbered into the air, the human on his back using his equipment straps as makeshift handles. He suddenly remembered how much he hated having anything on his back, but his priority right now was to reach the princess before that damned fool boy did. When he’d dealt with that matter, with the goddess’ blessing, he would be able to complete his mission and finally return home.

Rush’s eyes watered from the fog and smoke whipping past them. Below, all they could see was the glow from the fires and the sounds of fighting. Gunshots and shouting appeared to be centred round the boss’ house, but it was unlikely the creature had gone there. His mind finally clear, Rush tried to imagine what he would have done in that situation, but he was no tactician. He’d fought and killed because he’d had to, because if he didn’t, someone would have killed him. Now, the worst possible thing had happened: he had let Celestia fly off to face that demonic beast alone.

Ahead, there was a sudden blast of golden light, cutting through the fog like a hot knife.

“There!” Thorn shouted back at him. “Have that crossbow ready, boy!”

Rush gripped the heavy weapon as they headed towards the light. A moment later, however, the bright beacon had vanished, replaced by a searing gout of flame and a screech the likes of which he hadn’t heard since that night in the forest. He narrowed his eyes, willing Thorn to fly faster. There was no way on the gods’ earth he would let that beast harm her.

The sea of endless fog transitioned to a scene that made Rush’s heart thump hard in his chest. Before them, the black form of a thestral was engaged in a whirling spinning melee with a golden-armoured white alicorn. Weapons glinted in the eerie half-light, the young warrior occasionally spewing out thin jets of flame and the princess replying with thrusts from her halberd and narrow beams of focused energy from her horn.

The golden light, as bright as sunlight, burned swathes through the morass, but the young warrior was too fast. Celestia was already weakened from her captivity, and her magic was depleting rapidly. If she didn’t end this quickly, she knew she wouldn’t have enough left to open the portal home.

Thorn barrelled into the fight, swinging his axe in a brutal arc toward Rend. The younger warrior laughed out his screeching cry, his eyes blazing with the thrill of battle as he parried the major’s attack with his own weapon. Thorn grimaced—he could smell the haj from here, see its glistening remnants on his adversary’s nose. He’d lost his mind completely now, the damned fool; and a dangerous fool at that. Rend screamed as he flew into the attack. Completely ignoring the princess, he swung his axe around, knocking away Thorn’s blow with ease. Twisting in the air like a snake, Rend delivered a savage kick to the major’s chest that sent him reeling back across the sky.

Rush hung on for dear life while Thorn tried to recover. In a sudden movement that took them both by surprise, Rend flung his axe at them, the bladed weapon spinning end over end in a lethal cartwheel. Thorn barely managed to deflect it in time, but the blade clipped his neck on the way past, sending a spray of blood into the air. A blast of flame quickly followed, the heat burning his mane and his wing. Abruptly losing his stability, the major plummeted towards the ground, tipping Rush off in the process. Desperately, he tried to arrest his fall and catch the human, but it was all he could do to save himself. Not far from him, he could see Rush falling, the crossbow held in his hands as he aimed…

Rend screamed as the bolt slammed into him, stabbing through the unarmoured area beneath his right wing. He lost control, spiralling down toward the ground. It was too fast, far too fast! The armour was dragging him, and he pawed at it to break free. Fog soaked him, the heat from the fires below adding a warmth that quickly grew as he descended. Up here, in this whiteout, it was hard to tell up from down, but he’d be damned if he let that traitor and that bitch best him. He laughed to himself; they couldn’t beat him! He was a warrior of the moon goddess. He could feel her within him, holding him in her hooves and protecting him. He was invincible, unstoppable!

With a screech of triumph, the girth strap came loose, and the bulk of the armour fell away. The abrupt release gave Rend the chance to correct his descent and use his damaged wing to help guide him down to the ground. The pain barely registered now, the haj running through his system dulling it, allowing him to focus his mind with crystal clarity.

The ingredients he’d found in this world were unbelievably potent, so much more that what he’d made in the Beyond. With this, with the goddess in his heart, he could take them all on, send them to the pits of hell, and claim this whole stinking land for Nightmare Moon. She would be pleased, maybe even make him her consort… her prince! He howled out to the world his ascendance. The night was coming, and with it, the rule of Lord Rend.

Author's Note:

Edited by JBL

Comments

[Syroc]

Hang on, Lord Thorn? Shouldn't that be Rend?

[Bluespectre]

6304252 Whoops! Amended, thanks

[That One Brony Dude]

Another great chapter, I can't wait for more! You have managed to weave the intense action and deep emotions masterfully. Now, all you need is a Hans Zimmer score, and you'll be winning those Oscars in no time!

But I do have one concern: I am constantly seeing possessives that either lack apostrophes, or use apostrophes in the wrong places. This wouldn't bother me too much if it had only happened in just one chapter, but unfortunately, this problem has been recurring throughout the story.

That said, I'd like to share some constructive criticism with you. Here's how apostrophes should be used with possessives: if the possessive is singular, there should be an apostrophe before the "s". If the possessive is plural, the apostrophe should be after the "s". So, the sentence "for god's sake", refers to only one god. However, "for gods' sake", refers to multiple gods. The sentence "for gods sake" is incorrect, because "gods" without an apostrophe is not a possessive.

English can be confusing: for every rule there seems to be at least one exception. In this case, the exception is for the word "its"/"it's". "Its" is a possessive, whereas "it's" is a contraction for "it is". So, with an apostrophe, it's a contraction, but without it's a possessive. You'd think they would both have an apostrophe, since in any other case, contractions and possessives would both require an apostrophe, but "its"/"it's" only needs an apostrophe when it's being used as a contraction. Aren't confusing exceptions fun?. (Thank you, Weird Al, for teaching me about "an 'I-T', followd by 'apostrophe s'."):