Dancing With the Wind
Chapter 13: Dancing With the Wind
Greenblight threw back his head and howled, reminding Rumble of the wolf-pony from that movie Thunderlane had taken him to see once. Rumble had gotten nightmares from that one. However, this was no nightmare, nor was it a pony on a screen. Greenblight was very real, very dangerous, and that scythe he was swinging around was very big and looked very sharp.
To the average pony, the attack would have looked shockingly fast, especially for a pony of Greenblight's bulk. However, Rumble's vision and reflexes had been honed by years of racing his brother through Whitetail Woods, slaloming between trees at breakneck speeds, picking out narrow gaps and watching for the markers that signaled turns. Compared to that, Greenblight's attack seemed rather...lazy. Rumble ducked under the swing, the blade passing harmlessly above his rump, whilst he narrowly avoided being brained by the weapon's shaft. His vision was filled by a green chest covered with scars as Rumble realized that, even if Greenblight didn't hit him with the scythe, the stallion was still more than capable of simply running him over. With a yelp of surprise, Rumble threw himself to the side, barely missing being trampled by the raging stallion.
Greenblight was already pivoting on the spot, spinning around and swinging the scythe in a wide arc. The blade missed Rumble completely. But, once again, the colt was forced to evade the weapon's shaft. As he jumped above the strike Rumble took to the air, trying to get some more room to maneuver in the open air of the ballroom, falling back from Greenblight. For a moment, he thought that the stallion might lose interest and return to the fight with Arkenstone, which was still raging in the entryway. But the moment Greenblight's bloodshot eye fixed itself on Rumble, he knew he didn't have to worry about anything like that. Lucky me, he thought sardonically.
With another bestial howl, Greenblight launched himself at Rumble, taking to the air, his wings beating hard to lift his bulk off the floor and send it hurtling at the colt. Rumble twisted out of the way of another swing of the scythe, deciding that he needed to do some attacking of his own. He'd been hesitating ever since he'd managed to get Greenblight away from Arkenstone. He'd never used the meteor hammer on another pony before, much less the real version of the weapon. If he wasn't careful, the steel weight could crush bones, including somepony's skull. He didn't want to kill anypony, not even somepony as terrifying as Greenblight. However, he didn't have near the level of skill Storm Front did.
I guess the best way to go about it would be to avoid stuff that I know will kill him and hope that where I hit him won't kill him, thought Rumble. If Greenblight ended up dying anyway then...well...he'd simply have to cope. There were things more important at stake. Arkenstone had made that very clear to them when they left the Palace that morning.
"I want you to listen carefully," said Arkenstone as Rumble and Scootaloo followed him down the hallway, "When we reach our destination, if you truly desire to fight, there is a very good chance that you will have to kill your opponent."
Both Rumble and Scootaloo froze at that. Arkenstone proceeded a couple more steps before stopping himself. He didn't turn around, but his ears swiveled in place so they were oriented on the positions of the two foals. "I can understand that you are uncomfortable with that fact. I would be worried if you weren't. However, neither of you are skilled enough to deal a disabling blow, much less such a blow in the middle of pitched battle. If you waste your time, energy, and awareness trying to do so, you end up putting yourself at risk and you will likely be the ones to end up dead. That outcome is unacceptable."
Now he turned around, facing them directly. "This is your point of no return. If you follow me and enter the battle, you must be prepared for the possibility that you will have to kill your opponent. If you truly feel that you can win without that, then you may try. However, if you don't feel ready to kill your opponent, should such a thing prove necessary, then you will need to turn back now."
Rumble swallowed and looked down at his right foreleg, now concealed behind the green sleeve of his shirt. If push came to shove, could he take that final step? Closing his eyes, he thought about it for a long moment. He was a little worried that Arkenstone would lose patience and simply leave them behind, but the stallion remained in place without a word.
"I'm not ready," Rumble admitted, "But I'll do what it takes, because...because that's what needed."
Arkenstone smiled sadly and lifted a hoof to gently brush back Rumble's mane. "Very few ponies are truly ready for their first taste of battle. That much is true. I trust you."
After a longer moment, Scootaloo answered as well. "I'll do what I need to," she said, "Our friends need us."
"Very well then," said Arkenstone, once again leading the way down the hall, "Then let us be off."
The time for hesitation was past. Rumble snapped out his foreleg, launching the meteor hammer straight for Greenblight's flank. The weapon lanced out like the head of a striking snake. An instant later, it sank into Greenblight's side, just behind his ribcage, with a meaty thunk. A yowl of pain filled the air and Rumble winced in sympathy. Once, during a schoolyard squabble years ago, another pony had kicked him there, an experience that Rumble had found excruciatingly painful. He'd spent several minutes simply writhing on the ground.
However, to Rumble's complete shock, Greenblight didn't falter. He didn't even flinch. Instead, the stallion whirled around, immediately charging at Rumble again, leading with an overhead swing of the scythe. Rumble rolled to the side, allowing Greenblight to go barreling past him. As he did, he brought the meteor hammer around in an overhead swing and brought it straight down on Greenblight's haunch, hitting him just above where his cutie mark rested. Once again, the stallion hardly reacted, save for an angry roar, before spinning around, the tip of his scythe threatening to spear Rumble through the ear.
Whipping the meteor hammer through a complex pattern, Rumble brought it swinging up from below, slamming it straight into Greenblight's stomach. The air burst out of the stallion's mouth with a loud whoosh. However, Greenblight's jaws opened and he spewed out a more gasping, strangled version of his roar before coming at Rumble without the slightest hesitation, one fetlock clenched around the end of his scythe's shaft while his other hoof aimed punch after vicious punch at Rumble as the colt ducked inside the weapon's range.
As he closed with Greenblight, Rumble drew back the meteor hammer, wrapping it around his barrel and up between his wings to shorten the length of the weapon in play, allowing him to use it in closer quarters. He barely managed to slip past Greenblight's punch, which was as fast as it was wild and uncoordinated. As he did, he whipped the meteor hammer up and smacked it into one side of Greenblight's ribcage. The weapon connected with the crack of breaking bone and the two of them were past each other. Coming out behind Greenblight, Rumble swung the meteor hammer up and around from overhead, allowing the portions of cord he'd wrapped around his body to slip away, giving him the length he needed to bring the arcing swing of the weapon down right on the base of Greenblight's tail, once again connecting with an an echoing crack.
Yet again, Greenblight whirled around, acting as though broken bones didn't even bother him. If anything, the pain seemed to drive the stallion into even greater throes of madness. He charged for Rumble, the scythe spinning and whirling.
Geez, thought Rumble, his stomach churning, What's this guy made of?
Scootaloo rolled and banked, barely managing to jerk her rear out of the way of a sphere of crackling, ebony magic that zipped past it. The orb of power merely changed direction, coming back at her yet again. Scootaloo had to kick of the air and send her body into a spin, pulling her wings in as she danced between that sphere and a second one coming in from a different angle. A third and fourth were coming in as well. Scootaloo kicked down with all four of her hooves, managing to launch herself out of the way of those ones as well. Unfortunately, all four attacks turned to come at her yet again.
With a growl of anger, Scootaloo glared at Inkwell, who was glaring back with even greater intensity. With her wind-sense able to follow the paths of the energy balls as they chased her through the air, Scootaloo was glad that she didn't at least have to watch them. However, it was all she could do to avoid the bolts tracking her every move. She didn't have the time to spare to try and launch some sort of counterattack. Instead, she was forced farther and farther away from her opponent with each passing second.
Then Inkwell's eyes narrowed dangerously. Her horn, already smoking and glimmering with jet-black magic, glowed with greater intensity. A fifth bolt, then a sixth, joined the four already chasing after her. Horseapples! thought Scootaloo, jerking and juking all the harder as she fought for some way to throw them off. However, the orbs weren't simply following or tracking her, Inkwell was obviously actively controlling the paths of their flight, using them to come at the filly from different directions in an attempt to corral her and keep her from avoiding them.
Scootaloo really wished that she'd mastered the rapid movement skill Dawn had taught her. Dawn could probably skip in and out of attacks like this with ease. So far, Scootaloo hadn't fully learned how to use that technique, even when simply using it to move forward. Backwards, side-to-side, up and down were all beyond her at the moment. Luckily, being able to use her hooves to kick off the air itself allowed her to change direction much more sharply than the average pegasus. When one of the orbs of energy suddenly jumped in front of her, Scootaloo's right hind and forehooves kicked out, allowing her to jump sharply to the side before she collided with it.
Deciding to change tactics, Scootaloo began pouring on the speed, trying her hardest to keep the orbs chasing after her. Three of them did. The other three broke off and began moving in an extended arc to cut off her movement as she tried to circle around Inkwell. Scootaloo banked and found herself once again flying farther from her opponent in an effort to keep all six orbs behind her.
Then it happened. The six pursuing orbs suddenly stopped homing in on her and instead went into straight flight, scattering into the air. Scootaloo pulled up short and glanced back. Inkwell was practically a dot in the distant yard now. Scootaloo estimated that she'd pulled over a hundred meters away at least. Apparently this was the maximum range for Inkwell's magic...
...Or so Scootaloo thought. A few seconds later, she yelped and dodged, barely managing to avoid a lancing beam of jet-black power the width of a broom handle that zipped past her with a faint whistling noise. What the hay! The attack had come dangerously close to spearing her through the center of the chest. Even the shift in the air caused by its approach had come too late. Instead, Scootaloo had reacted to the intense, focused killing intent that surged ahead of the attack. If she hadn't noticed that and dodged, she would have been killed right there and then.
That near death hammered home the truth to Scootaloo in a way that all of Arkenstone's lectures never could. If she messed up, if she made one mistake, she would die. This was no training session, this wasn't even like the battle that Dawn had fought with Storm Front and Red River. This was real. For the very first time, it truly sank in for Scootaloo just how much danger she was in. Even her brief exchange with Perlin back in Ponyville hadn't affected her like this. She was in true battle with an opponent who intended to kill her.
All this time, she wondered, was this what it was always like for Dawn? Her heart shuddered as she imagined herself in Dawn's hooves, thinking about what it would be like to spend days and weeks haunted by this feeling, the feeling that death was just around the corner, that the tiniest slip-up could cost him his life. Was this what it was truly like every time Dawn went into battle and put his life on the line?
She didn't have long to ponder as another lance of magic forced her to evade yet again. Inkwell's shots were precise and deadly, targeting the wings, the heart, and other organs. Scootaloo didn't need to touch those beams to know that they would punch through her body as easily as one of Rarity's sewing needles could pierce a sheet of fabric. Inkwell's accuracy at this distance was incredible.
I have to get closer, thought Scootaloo. She just barely managed to avoid those shots thanks to all her months of training with Dawn and thanks to the fact that Inkwell's intent clearly broadcasted where she was attacking ahead of the attack itself. The tiniest fraction of hesitation in Scootaloo's movements would result in her death. Inkwell's attacks were much too focused and dangerous to deal with.
Besides, Scootaloo couldn't attack from this distance. If Dawn was here, she was sure that he could strike back at Inkwell even from this far away, maybe even farther. However, Scootaloo didn't have enough control to keep her attacks from dissipating over long distances. If she wanted to beat Inkwell, she would have to get in close.
A beam of ebony power seared over her head, punching through part of her mane. Scootaloo winced at the pulling sensation from her hairs being broken away. Now was her chance. She had to cover as much distance as possible in order to get close before Inkwell got off another shot. Scootaloo had noticed something about Inkwell's attacks before. Unlike the remote-controlled orbs Inkwell was using before, these powerful long distance shots couldn't be fired rapidly. It always took a few seconds for Inkwell to fire off another shot. Scootaloo realized that the time lag must have been the time it took for Inkwell to focus and condense her magic in order to fire it over a long distance. Even more importantly, unlike the orbs she was using earlier, Inkwell couldn't change the direction of her long-range shots after they were fired.
In other words, this was her chance to get close before Inkwell could fire again. Scootaloo took advantage of those few seconds, charging straight in at her opponent, getting ready to throw herself to the side the instant she felt the next shot coming. The ground was a blur and the only thing Scootaloo saw clearly was the rapidly growing form of Inkwell.
Then she felt it, that piercing spike of intent that preceded each of Inkwell's attacks. Scootaloo kicked out with her legs, but failed to account for the strength of her own forward momentum. Instead, she began to skid awkwardly to the side, not moving nearly fast enough to get clear of the next shot. Oh no! She realized that this would be her fatal mistake. Even if this attack wasn't fatal, it would certainly knock Scootaloo out of the sky. Even if the subsequent crash failed to finish her off, Inkwell would probably be perfectly happy to do the job.
I'm sorry everypony, she thought, the images of the ponies she loved flashing before her eyes as she braced herself for what was coming.
With a loud crack, the meteor hammer slammed into Greenblight's left shoulder. The arm below that shoulder dropped limply. Now Greenblight only had his right leg with which to swing the scythe. But, as ever, the stallion seemed to hardly even notice Rumble's attack, instead howling savagely as he came in. Once again, Rumble ducked beneath the wild swing of the scythe, seeking to pass to the left where the fearsome weapon couldn't reach him. However, Rumble quickly learned his mistake when he saw what looked like an emerald-green log, criss-crossed with scars, swing up in front of him.
"Ack!" Rumble twisted and took the hit right across the flank. The force of the blow sent him flying away from Greenblight to smack hard against the wall, driving the breath from Rumble's lungs. Gravity took over from there and Rumble slid down the wall and to the floor, thankfully not hitting far enough up to hurt himself further. The act of falling actually saved his life as the point of the scythe sank into the stone right where his head had been only a second before. Greenblight grunted and growled as he fought to pull the weapon loose, but was having a hard time doing so with only one good arm.
Rumble gladly took advantage of the chance to get his breath back and take stock of his injuries. Fortunately, the hit from Greenblight's foreleg had been more surprising than dangerous and he hadn't hit the wall hard enough to break anything. He figured that he'd have a nasty bruise between his wings when all this was over.
Greenblight had turned his body as Rumble had tried to pass him, allowing him to essentially swing the otherwise limp and useless foreleg like a large flail. Given the state of Greenblight's shoulder, such an action should have been beyond agonizing, but the stallion had done it without hesitation and showed no indication that he even cared. Every time Rumble hit him, Greenblight seemed more angered than pained by the experience. Rumble was extremely fortunate that he'd actually disabled Greenblight's arm with that last attack. If Greenblight had been able to punch properly with that limb, the attack would have probably broken Rumble's bones.
It's like he doesn't care about the pain, thought Rumble incredulously, The only time a hit stops him is when it makes it impossible for him to physically move. That right arm was a perfect example. Even now, it dangled uselessly while Greenblight continued to lever the scythe out of the stonework. Using his body to whip it around like he just had was the extent of what Greenblight was capable of.
But if he doesn't care about pain, then it means he'll keep going, no matter how badly his body is injured, thought Rumble. Unless he broke all four of Greenblight's legs and both his wings so that those limbs could no longer carry the scarred stallion, Greenblight would keep coming after him.
Such a revelation should have frightened Rumble. It should have made him tremble with fear and made him consider running away. However, it actually had the opposite effect. Rumble felt his fear and nervousness fading, replaced by understanding. He's not thinking about anything, he thought, He just keeps attacking. Greenblight had never made any effort to avoid Rumble's return strikes, never even tried to put up any kind of defense. He hadn't tried to make any tactical use of the ballroom's layout or effectively apply his weapon. It was as though he was completely mindless. However, this was different from the thoughtless state that Dawn, Arkenstone, and even Storm had described as the pinnacle of martial mastery. This was true mindlessness, a wild, flailing attack without any control or real guidance. Greenblight only pursued his target and attacked however he possibly could.
Even that scythe that had been so intimidating before was less frightening to Rumble now. It was deadly to be sure. If it ever hit him, he'd probably end up killed by it. But now, after avoiding countless swings, Rumble saw what an awkward and unwieldy weapon it really was. The cutting edge was on the inside of the blade, which made slashing attacks rather awkward unless the weapon was pulled straight back towards the pony holding it. The tip was dangerous, of course, but narrow and easily dodged. The position of the blade simply made it difficult to swing so as to actually hit something. Rumble was in more danger from that heavy wooden shaft than the blade of the weapon.
The scythe was poorly suited for combat. However, it did have a particularly intimidating quality. For millennia, the scythe had been a symbol of death, associated with figures like the Grim Reaper, who harvested the souls of the ponies who passed from the world of the living. However, that was a symbolic extension of the scythe's true purpose, namely cutting crops for harvest. Reaping, grim or otherwise, was not a particularly violent activity, namely because, whether one was reaping grain or souls, the things being reaped generally weren't trying to reap you back.
Though he wasn't aware of the whole picture, Rumble had succeeded in uncovering Greenblight's weaknesses. Greenblight was actually at a disadvantage when fighting against a single opponent. Furthermore, because, in his berserker rage, he abandoned all pretense of defense, he was also at a greater disadvantage without his subordinates to support him. In battle, Greenblight's primary role was to break up enemy formations. The sight of a crazed, scarred pegasus, howling like a fiend, and brandishing a scythe like the specter of death itself was enough to strike fear into the hearts of even the staunchest opponents. He threw himself bodily into enemy ranks, striking out wildly with maniacal strength, turning his enemies' own organization against them as their formation kept them from scattering enough to effectively evade his strikes. However, if he were to continue to fight alone for any significant length of time, the flaws in his methods would become clear. The scythe was intimidating, but an awkward weapon at best. And those scars, which seemed so frightening at first, were obtained from Greenblight's lack of concern for his own wellbeing when he raged. In fact, he was dangerously vulnerable. If his enemies had the chance to realize this, they could turn their numbers to their advantage and surround him to quickly bring him down...
...Which was why Greenblight always made sure that his Banehammers were never far behind him when he struck. Greenblight drove himself like a wedge into the enemy ranks, breaking up their formation. Before the enemy could realize his vulnerability, the rest of the Banehammers fell upon them and finished the fight with ruthless efficiency. With Inkwell using her precise and deadly battle magic from the rear, they were a force to be feared on the battlefield.
But on his own and against a single opponent with plenty of room to move and evade, Greenblight was reduced to less than a wild beast, for even monsters had more survival instinct and canniness than Greenblight now held. The longer the fight went on, the more things turned to Rumble's advantage. Greenblight could not maintain his berserk state forever. When it finally subsided, all the pain of his injuries would finally catch up to him.
I can do this, thought Rumble, clenching his fetlocks around the cord of his meteor hammer. However, even as he thought that, he forced himself to remember something that Storm Front had once told him.
"If you completely lose your fear of your opponent, then you are at great peril. Fear alerts you to danger. If you relinquish it completely, you lose that wariness and leave yourself vulnerable. Even if an enemy seems completely incompetent, maintain some semblance of respect for her until the battle is over."
Remembering those words, Rumble took a deep breath and braced himself as Greenblight finally managed to yank the scythe free of the wall. However, he failed to do it properly and the tip of the weapon snapped off and remained lodged there. Rumble took to the air again as Greenblight came at him. Whirling the meteor hammer, Rumble worked out his plan of action. Take out his other arm, then his wings. Then it won't matter if he doesn't notice pain if he can't even fly up to me.
His plan in place, Rumble met Greenblight's charge with one of his own, hoping that he could finally bring an end to this battle.
The expected shot never came. Instead, the killing intent vanished and Inkwell didn't fire. For a moment, Scootaloo thought the mare was toying with her. However, as she got in closer, she could see that Inkwell was blinking furiously and shaking her head. Something got in her eyes?
Before Scootaloo could think too much about it, Inkwell managed to clear up whatever problem she was dealing with and focused her gaze on Scootaloo once again, those black eyes burning with malice. However, instead of firing another lance of magic, she instead unleashed a burst of several smaller bolts from her horn. They were smaller than the grapefruit-sized bolts Inkwell had unleashed earlier, about the size of large cherries. But she compensated by unleashing more than a dozen of them. Their greater numbers and higher speed made it much more difficult for Scootaloo to track. With a yelp, she spun and jumped, kicking out her legs to throw herself out of the way of all the bolts as they came at her with unrelenting ferocity. The ends of the ribbon Scootaloo wore around her neck flapped and snapped as the filly's frantic dodges whipped them through the air.
Scootaloo yelped in pain as she missed a dodge. One of the bolts burst against her shoulder. It was a glancing blow that failed to actually cause any injury. But it was still painful. She couldn't keep this up for long. The bolts might not have had the penetrating power of the the lancing shots Inkwell used to strike over longer distances, but Scootaloo would be pounded into a pulp by them if she allowed them to hit her.
There was no time to think. Instead, Scootaloo felt her mind go blank as she was on the verge of being overwhelmed by the sheer number of attacks coming at her. It was a strangely calm and relaxing feeling. Suddenly, she was sensing all of Inkwell's bolts clearly. She could sense the gaps in their approach. Not even thinking about it, Scootaloo kicked out with one hind leg, twisting her body along with the motion, going to a rolling, acrobatic spin that sent her in between two of the bolts. She felt them immediately turn to reorient on her new position as four more came in in separate vectors.
Completely losing herself to the moment, Scootaloo kicked straight down with all four legs. At the same time, her months of training caused her to move her wings in cooperation with the motion. She shot upward, out from between all of the attacks. However, it didn't feel quite right to her. There was too much resistance from the air as she shot upward. Though she wasn't consciously thinking about it, Scootaloo knew she could move faster than that.
Several more bolts rushed in from around her. However, Scootaloo kicked back with all four of her hooves, her wings moving in tight arcs around her sides. This was a motion that she knew well. Moving so quickly that she was no more than a blur to the eyes of a normal pony, Scootaloo zipped forward and out of the way of the incoming bolts. At that moment, she realized that, if she could simply apply that principle of moving the wings in whatever direction she was going, she could move faster, no matter what way she was going.
I get it, thought Scootaloo, the battle forgotten for a moment, If I can do this, I can move even faster. The next time Inkwell's bolts swarmed around her like hornets, Scootaloo kicked straight down again. However, this time she pointed her wings up and then swept them down in tight arcs, clearing the air out of her path. Scootaloo seemed to vanish in that instant, only to reappear higher up. Even Inkwell had to take a second to find Scootaloo again with her eyes.
Though she didn't realize it, Scootaloo was actually improving over the course of the fight. Every time something felt off or awkward, she adjusted her position and balance until if felt better. As a consequence, she was dodging faster, moving with greater grace and precision. Her effort to evade Inkwell's swarm of telekinetic bolts was like an elegant dance taking place at unbelievable speed. She spun and pirouetted through the air, spinning and twisting between the shots with what seemed to be contemptuous ease, though she was actually pushing her body harder than she ever had before. Sweat matted down her fur and ran through her mane and tail, but Scootaloo only felt exultation as her movements gradually grew smoother and more precise.
As she finished another dodge, Scootaloo found one of Inkwell's bolts waiting for her. Without thinking about it, Scootaloo lashed out with one wing. The burst of air met the orb of black energy and knocked it away with an angry buzz. Realizing that she could use the Gale King to deflect as well as evade, Scootaloo swept one wing in a wide arc, twisting to put the strength of her entire body into the motion. A heavy blast of wind swept out around her, scattering Inkwell's swarming bolts like autumn leaves.
Inkwell growled and the bolts immediately reoriented and came back at Scootaloo. However, Scootaloo swept her wings in tight arcs, this time moving them from back to front as she kicked forwards with all four of her hooves. The reverse of the exercise she'd been practicing for so many weeks now felt a bit more awkward than the original form, but she still managed to blur as she shot backwards, her flight now taking her away from Inkwell.
Then the shots scattered again, flying off in random directions as Inkwell released her control of them again. Scootaloo blinked, getting her mind back together as she realized that the sudden onslaught of magical bolts had stopped. Looking in, from this distance she could barely see Inkwell shaking her head again. A few seconds later, Scootaloo again felt that spike of ferocious killing intent, followed by another lance of ebony magic as Inkwell once again switched over to sniping at the filly.
Scootaloo's eyes widened as she finally realized what was going on. I get it! She can either see me really close or from really far away. But she can't do both at once. When I get too close or too far away, she has to stop what she's doing and actually switch. Finally, after spending the whole battle on the defensive and simply trying to stay alive while avoiding those lethal magical blasts, Scootaloo had managed to spot a chink in her foe's armor.
She was reminded of Rumble's retelling of events when he related how he'd seen Inkwell, Greenblight, and their ponies carry off Twilight Sparkle and Coco Pommel. He'd been hiding behind a rock nearby and had thought that Inkwell had spotted him for a second. But the mare had continued on like she had seen nothing. Rumble must have either been too close when she was looking for things far away, or too far away when she was looking for something in close...maybe even both. There was some sort of line or boundary where Inkwell couldn't make out her targets at that distance and had to switch one way or the other.
And Scootaloo already had an idea of where that line was. Thanks to her stubborn focus on simply controlling her magic and making precise shots, as well as not having to defend herself at all, Inkwell hadn't moved a single step since the fight had begun. Because of that, Scootaloo was able to use the landmarks, the wall, the boundaries of the flowerbeds, to get a rough idea of where Inkwell had to transition her fighting style from close range to long range.
However, she couldn't afford to spend too much time or effort trying to figure out exactly where that line was. At some point, Inkwell was bound to figure out what Scootaloo was up to. After that, there was no telling what the mare might do. I have to end this quickly, thought Scootaloo. Sensing another jolt of killing intent, she barely managed to shift out of the way. Silently, she thanked Dawn for making her train with Red River occasionally to get used to the sensation.
"I keep hearing you talk about intent and stuff like that," said Scootaloo as she stood in front of Dawn, "What's that all about?" As usual, they were practicing in the quarry. In the skies above, Storm Front was putting Rumble through his paces. Not too far away, Red River lounged, his spear resting over one shoulder as he enjoyed the view of the others diligently practicing.
"Would you like to find out?" asked Dawn. Raising a hoof, he beckoned Red River over. The azure stallion, enjoying the opportunity to occupy his time with something, obliged the colt and approached. When he was close enough, Dawn told him, "Scootaloo is curious about sensing intent. Could you provide her with a demonstration?"
"Certainly," said Red with a smile before turning to Scootaloo, "Are you sure you want to do this? It's a frightening experience."
Scootaloo nodded. "I'm not scared."
"You should be," said Red, "I've told your coltfriend many times that fear is an important aspect of mastery. A lack of fear will make you careless and could cost you your life someday. If anything, Dawn wants me to teach you how to listen to your fear."
"What do you mean?" asked Scootaloo, swallowing. In spite of her words, she began to feel a little nervous.
Seeing her bravado fading, Red smiled a little. "I'll show you. Hold still now." Sinking into a stance, he leveled the spear out to one side and focused entirely on the filly in front of him. For a few seconds, nothing seemed to happen.
Then Scootaloo felt it. Her senses screamed and all her honed reflexes told her that something bad was coming. Even though Red was motionless in front of her, she still felt as though his spear was already coming right at her. Half a second later, Red actually did thrust the spear, bringing it to an abrupt halt less than an inch away from Scootaloo's nose.
"What do you think?" asked Red.
Shivering, Scootaloo backed away a little before slumping down on her haunches. Dawn came beside her and gently draped a wing over her back as he nuzzled her cheek. "Tha-that was..." Scootaloo blinked furiously, trying to find the words to express how she felt.
"A skilled opponent, one who has honed her techniques through life and death battle can produce such an effect," explained Red, "Her intent, her desire, her conviction to kill her enemy projects itself. Properly honed, intent itself can be a powerful weapon in its own right. However, it can also telegraph your attacks before you even make them if you don't learn to master it properly. I deliberately emphasized the interval so that you clearly felt my intent before I moved. If I were fighting for real, it would have been like this..."
Scootaloo had zero warning. Once again her senses told her she was in extreme danger. But Red's spear was already a blur, heading right for her face. She would have jumped away, but Dawn's wing held her in place. He didn't flinch even though the spear was heading for him as well. Once again, Red brought the weapon to a halt less than inch away from the filly's face.
"Intent triggers an instinctual response, a sense that you were born with, warning that your life is in danger. Unless you learn how to properly heed that instinct, reacting to an enemy's intent may cause you to falter and render you vulnerable." With a chuckle, Red pulled back his spear. "The more skilled and experienced your opponent is, the shorter the interval between intent and action is. Furthermore, if your opponent is a true master, then she may very well be able to strike without intent at all so that there is absolutely nothing for your instincts to react to. However, that is a skill that only the most formidable and experienced of fighters are able to cultivate. Even I can't manage that."
"So that's what it's like," muttered the filly. Dawn's wing gently brushed up and down her back, the feeling soothing her after experiencing so much fear.
"More or less," said Red, "As I said before, this is all about listening to your fear. Fear is your instincts telling you that you're in danger. However, listening does not mean that you allow your fear to control you. If you did that, you'd either freeze in place or flee, either of which would render you vulnerable. Instead, you must use your fear as a guide to tell you when you need to evade or defend. Sadly, in order to be capable of that, you must experience more fear, a great deal of fear."
Swallowing, Scootaloo looked up at Red. Even though she knew this would probably be the most unpleasant lesson she was ever going to experience, she still asked, "Could you help me with that then?"
Red actually grinned and glanced at Dawn, who smiled and nodded. "If that is what you want, then I shall oblige you."
Those lessons had been some of the most difficult and terrifying Scootaloo had ever dealt with. Red made it feel as though he was going to kill her over and over again. True to his words, the experience had not been a pleasant one. However, when he had finished, Scootaloo felt she had truly gotten a handle on how to sense the killing intent that both Red and Dawn were talking about. Those lessons were saving her life now, as they were the only thing that kept Inkwell's shots from punching holes through her body.
First, she had to start getting in close again. She didn't know how much magic her opponent had, but Inkwell didn't seem to be running out anytime soon. If anything, the continuous plume of smoke now emitting from her horn seemed to indicate that her horn would burn out before her reserves did, although there was still no telling how long that would take.
Scootaloo dodged the next shot and once again sprinted straight in towards her opponent, keeping all her senses focused on Inkwell. She noticed the instant where the mare suddenly blinked and began shaking her head again. Now that she had a more precise idea of where the invisible line that defined the limits between Inkwell's two different types of vision lay, it was time to put her strategy into action.
Once again, Inkwell unleashed a burst of black spheres, this time a round dozen of apple-sized ones. Compared to the last round, they were much easier to dodge than the swarm of smaller spheres. However, as Scootaloo swung out a wing to deflect them with another blast of air, she noticed that the orbs were not as easily diverted from their paths. She supposed that she wasn't the only one refining her strategy throughout the match. Each time she came in close, Inkwell was apparently refining her own remote-controlled telekinetic bolts, finding a balance between speed, power, and numbers to find the ideal attack to finally bring her nimble opponent down, working as carefully and meticulously as a pony carefully fitting pieces into a puzzle.
I need to end this soon, thought Scootaloo as she twisted and danced out of the way of the shots again. She remembered the sensation of the last time and continued to let her senses guide her to refine her motions, to help her move faster and dodge more effectively. She would need every ounce of speed and agility she could muster to put her strategy into action as Inkwell's bolts continued to doggedly pursue her through the skies.
That persistent focus was both Inkwell's greatest strength and her greatest weakness. Prior to the accident that had cracked her horn and damaged her mind, she had been a skilled battle mage with a wide repertoire of spells and a cunning mind. Had it not been for the incident where she'd overchanneled her magic during battle, Inkwell would have probably been the leader of the Banehammers, rather than Greenblight. However, the same accident that had damaged her horn, limiting her only to basic telekinetic spells, had also damaged her mind. Inkwell's ability to think of things in the wider scope, to act strategically and tactically, had been lost. In its place was the ability to single-mindedly focus on the task at hoof. That intense focus had allowed her to take basic combat spells, like the telekinetic bolt that practically any unicorn could learn, and refine them into forms that rivaled even the most advanced battle magic for effectiveness. However, it had also eliminated her capacity to lead others and think beyond her own actions.
As a consequence, Inkwell played a supporting role amongst the Banehammers, whether it was sniping down priority targets from a long distance or supporting the main body of troops with a precise bombardment from closer range, she existed largely as a magical projectile weapon. As such, she no longer considered the wider implications of her actions. Right now, she was focused entirely upon one task, killing the filly who was interfering with her. She switched up the basic tactics for her attacks to better obtain that end, refining her approach continuously. As she did so, Inkwell never even considered the notion that Scootaloo was doing the same.
Moving carefully, even as she dodged frantically, Scootaloo edged backwards to where she figured the limit of Inkwell's close-range vision was. Once she had reached that point, she would have to act immediately. She would only have a few seconds at best before Inkwell figured out what was going on. Scootaloo had to land the decisive blow in those few seconds. When she estimated she was at the limit, Scootaloo swallowed nervously. Here we go. Beating her wings, she backed past the imaginary line she judged was the limit of Inkwell's vision.
Releasing control over her guided bolts, Inkwell began to blink and shake her head, clearly shifting her vision over for long-range combat. However, the instant she began doing so, Scootaloo reversed her flight and charged straight in.
For Inkwell, whose eyes had followed Scootaloo throughout the entire battle, Scootaloo had pulled back until she was little more than an orange and fuchsia blur to the mare's vision. Upon getting her eyes to shift over, an act that took quite a bit of effort and concentration, Inkwell would have been able to see and track the filly with perfect clarity even if she was over a kilometer distant. However, once the shift was complete, Inkwell couldn't make out Scootaloo as well. All she did see was an orange blur rapidly getting closer. Her eyes going wide, Inkwell had to concentrate on shifting her vision over yet again. But her panic hampered her efforts, making it take longer than it should have.
Scootaloo kicked back behind her with her hooves, swinging her wings in tight arcs around the side of her body, parting the air in front of her and using it to fill in behind her, allowing her to accelerate so rapidly she seemed to vanish to normal eyes. For the first time, she felt she'd truly executed that technique perfectly. The distance between her and Inkwell vanished in the blink of an eye. As Inkwell finished shifting her vision over, she found herself looking at Scootaloo just as the filly arrived just in front of her. Inkwell's eyes widened yet again.
Ideally, Scootaloo would have had some smart remark ready, something to show that she had this battle in the bag. But she didn't have time for that. There wasn't time for anything fancy. She just had to hit Inkwell as hard as she could and pray that would bring the fight to an end. In order to do so, Scootaloo fell back on the attack she knew best. Bracing her hooves against the ground, she lunged forward, pushing hard with her hind legs as she swept both her wings forward so that the tips of her primaries extended past her head, putting the full weight and power of her body into the motion. For the second time that day, Scootaloo executed the Forward Wing Strike, this time at point-blank range.
Inkwell shrieked as a roaring column of air slammed into her body with the force of a locomotive. Bones cracked and broke, muscles tore, and tendons snapped as the blast drove her all the way across Elderflower's yard, blasting a furrow through the earth and tearing apart everything in its path. Both mare and wind hit the wall that surrounded Elderflower's property, which shattered under the onslaught and continued on across the street beyond, the stone cobbles not faring any better than the dirt of the garden had. Finally, Inkwell came to a rest well beyond the boundaries of Elderflower's estate, her body limp and unmoving.
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Holy frak!
This was so worth staying up late to see the latest chapter. I'll admit a part of me hopes that Inkwell isn't dead, as much as seriously injured. But I'd get it if she did die. After all Arkenstone basically said,that they might end up taking a life do to their lack of control. Still awesome battles.
And this is what happens when you train the low-level recruit units.
Though I must admit, that if you told me when the series started that eventually
would smash a pony through a wall and a couple city blocks, I'd have given you a funny look.
And this chapter shows why it's a bad idea to only have people who are only able to fight under certain circumstances.
6843279
Specialization is useful, especially when working as part of a group. Over-speccing will get you launched through a wall, however.
OH I LOVED THIS!!! Seeing Scootaloo find her center and be able to pick apart Inkwell's technique? She's gonna be amazing!
Greenblight is kind of a glass powerhouse huh? Terrifying dangerous in close quarters combat but pretty useless against an agile opponent. Scoots would have torn him down fast but I doubt Rumble could've taken down Inkwell on his own
Perhaps add 'training' in, as it looks now both are about the real meteor hammer. I suggest here.
He'd never used the training meteor hammer on another pony before, much less the real version of the weapon.
came in on separate vectors.
FUCK YEAHH!!!!!!
It's fun when a chapter makes you realise something that's been happening throughout the whole story.
This chapter, for instance, made me realise that characters tend to learn best when they're actually in the fight. For example, Dawn learnt how to wield lightning over the course of two fights: one against Red and Storm and one against Perlin, and he came the closest to mastery against Terra.
Here both Rumble and Scootaloo's first fight improve their skills faster than they would have had they stayed in Ponyville.
That last comma should be a semicolon.
ok if Scootaloo did not kill her out right she is pretty much a spot bug meat windshield.
now how is Rumble doing?
and a vary well written chapter exultant work.
battle... the greatest teacher 4 a warrior
Scootaloo's battle was epic, but I'm really loving Rumble's own. Been waiting for him to fight for the last few books ever since he got to training with Storm.
Also he's reminding me of Kira from Gundum Seed when it comes to fighting an enemy without killing them.
captivating...