Ice Fall

by Bluespectre

Chapter Forty Three - In the Dead of the Night

CHAPTER FORTY THREE

IN THE DEAD OF NIGHT

Sliver dragged herself away from the burning wreckage, the acrid smoke still stinging her eyes. One of her wings was broken, smashed into a jagged, bloody mess by the explosion that had claimed the lives of her comrades. She would sing them to their eternal rest later; for now though, she had to get away and report the attack to her command.

The thestral’s breath curled up around her muzzle. It was bitterly cold tonight, despite the initial heat from the blast - the blast that had turned her world from a routine, uneventful delivery of provisions and medical supplies from the depot, to one of merciless fire and effortless dismemberment of once brave and proud warriors. Most had died instantly, others, she’d had sent to their ancestors before moving off into the cover of the forest. Here at least, she would have some advantage, her deep midnight blue coat and black armour would help keep her as dark as the shadows themselves. She would need to keep low, out of sight and…

She paused. They were coming…

A voice hissed urgently in the darkness, “Keep quiet damn it!”

“But what if there’s more?” another, younger sounding voice replied, “Some of them could just be injured.”

The first voice dropped into a low snarl, “Then we kill them too.”

“What…even the wounded?” the second one asked, “Celestia’s arse, I don’t like this, Fuze, it’s…”

“-Shut up, you arsehole! Do you want to get us all killed? You knew what you were getting into when you signed up.” The first voice oozed with barely restrained hatred, “This scum murdered my brother and you’re whinging like some damned school foal! Stay here and rot in your own self righteousness then, you stinking coward.”

Sliver held her breath, keeping her muzzle low to hide her breath against the fresh snowfall. These weren’t professional soldiers, that was for sure. She listened carefully, trying to take in what she could, blanking out the pain that burned through her ravaged body. What were these creatures?

Staring into the darkness, Sliver’s eyes scanned the shadows of the forest for movement; and then she saw them. Two, no, three stallions - Celestians, they had to be, and they were coming closer. The nearest one, the male the others called ‘Fuze’, was carrying a spear and sword while the other two had short axes stuffed into belts that looked like they were designed more for felling work than war. The ponies passed her, but just for a moment, one of them paused, sniffing the air as though able to scent her. Sliver froze, mentally calculating the distance, the best strategy to attack, but the pony simply shrugged and carried on. They reached the smouldering wreckage at the site of the explosion; the torn and bloodied bodies of the thestrals littering the once peaceful forest road before them. Fuze smiled wickedly,

“A good nights work, wouldn’t you say boys?”

One the three nodded, taking in the sight, “Aye, sent these rats back to their hell alright.” He sniffed, “Think we’ll be sending a few more yet, eh?”

Fuze nodded, “Aye, we will…what? Damn!”

The ponies jumped back, drawing their weapons and moved closer together instinctively. It was a typical pony reaction Sliver had seen before: the herding instinct that gave them a sense of mutual protection. All it really did was make them easier targets, hampering their ability to manoeuvre. She shook her head. How the Legion had failed to completely subjugate these cowardly creatures by now was baffling. They’d lost, didn’t they know that? But…something was happening, there was movement - one of the warriors was still alive!

Wood moved, cracked, and split as the ragged and smoking figure of a large thestral stallion rose from the smashed wreckage like some ancient god of the sea. Sliver watched in amazement as the pieces of charred wood sluiced off his armour, finally revealing the warrior beneath. He let out a low hissing sound, smoke curling up from between his teeth, his eyes glowing like deep green fires.

One of the ponies shrieked in fear and back away.

“Pull yourself together!” Fuze snapped, “Look at it! It’s half dead already.”

“Careful boys,” the other pony warned, “these things can breathe fire like a dragons I hear.”

“I’ll give it fire,” Fuze laughed menacingly, “the fires of hell.”

Hefting his spear, the tangerine coated male advanced on the thestral until he was only a few feet away. The creature watched him approach in silence; it was unarmed and bleeding, the wet patches on his fur evidence of his close encounter with death. Sliver pulled her axe free, wincing in pain as a broken rib reminded her of its presence: but she had no time for that now, and tried to push it from her mind as she focussed on the situation before her. She’d bound her wing the best she could and could only pray to the Goddess it would hold. She gritted her teeth and readied herself - it wouldn’t take long, perhaps if she…

“DIE DEMON!”

Fuze lunged with his spear, his inexperienced thrust missing the thestral who had seen his attack coming in plenty of time. With a roar, the warrior lunged inside the spear, snatching the pony’s sword from its scabbard in his teeth and flicked it up into the air. Fuze yelped in surprise but he was fast too, dodging back as the thestral swung the sword out at his throat. In a frighteningly fast strike, the blade hissed through the air, narrowly missing its target by little more than a hairs breadth. The other ponies, initially taken by surprise, hesitated and then charged in to the attack, holding their axes in the mouths as they bore down on the outnumbered warrior.

Quickly switching targets, the thestral grabbed the sword in his forehooves, shifting his weight to his hind legs and brought the point of the blade around and up in a lethal arc that nearly decapitated one of his attackers. The pony staggered, his life essence gushing out while he pawed hopelessly at the wound, trying to hold it in. He gasped a final coughing blast of gore before, mercifully, collapsing to the ground in a steaming, oozing heap. The second pony’s blow was weak, barely more than that of a foal’s, but the axe was sharp and found a gap in the armour, biting into the flesh below.

The thestral shrieked in pain and anger. How dare these creatures attack him! How dare they! He reared, kicking out at the damnable thing, but seeing too late the spear thrusting up and under his armour, punching deeply into his chest; the warrior of the Goddess screamed his pain and humiliation out into the frozen night. Fuze bellowed in triumph, his face distorted in a rictus snarl, burning anger and hatred seething through him as he rammed his weapon deeper into his enemy.

Spitting blood onto the ground, the thestral suddenly snatched the haft of the spear in his teeth and pulled hard. Fuze pushed back, his muscles burning with the effort, but against the thestral, even as injured as he was, it was hopeless - the creature was frighteningly strong. With a final hiss of smoke and a muffled gasp, the black coated warrior pulled the spear out of his body and yanked it free of his assailants grip. In a sudden display of acrobatic skill, the spear spun in the air and its former owner found himself facing the sharp point, still slick with the thestral’s gore. The black coated warrior attacked. Injury and loss of blood were beginning to tell now, the potentially lethal thrust narrowly missing Fuze’s chest but still raking the flesh down his side. The pony yelled in pain and surprise, leaping back and quickly looking to his friend for support; saw an apparition of horror - another thestral. This one was standing over the still twitching body of its victim, pulling its blood soaked axe free with effortless ease. Fuze did the only thing he could do…he ran.

Sliver watched with disdain as the pony fled into the darkness of the forest. The foolish, cowardly creatures deserved nothing but contempt. The Legion on the other hoof had only ever followed the wishes of the Goddess, the Equestrian’s own Princess, and they had even surrendered, surrendered! There was no such word in the thestral tongue, no understanding that one could simply lay down your arms and armour, giving up your honour and your ancestry and what? Just walk away unharmed? It was simply unfathomable! The Goddess in her mercy had given the Equestrians a choice - join them or die. It was a fair choice, a good choice and one that was far too good for them. Now, after this ‘surrender’, the little rats had left their holes and begun murdering her people, her brothers and sisters, in cowardly attacks such as this. Sliver kicked the smoking pieces of the cart and its ruined supplies away as she fought her way to the dying warrior. The least she could do was comfort him in some way before he passed on.

He looked up at her weakly, his eyes dimming as blood ran in tiny rivulets from the numerous wounds on his body. The warrior smiled…

“Goddess…the…damned things got me…this time…eh, Sliver?”

The female thestral examined his wounds. There was nothing she could do, the warrior was fading quickly; soon he would pass on to the next world.

“Clinker, our ancestors are waiting for you. They will sing of your bravery.”

The stallion coughed, bright red blood dripping out from between his sharp teeth,

“Bravery?” he took a ragged, pained breath, “Not…not here…not to die…at…the hooves of one of these slab toothed…cowards.”

“We were ambushed, brother,” Sliver said calmly, stroking the stallion’s neck as she held him, “you avenged your brothers and sisters they murdered, you are a true warrior.”

“Am I?” he gasped, “We shouldn’t…be here, Sliver…this…this world is…wrong for us.”

“It was the place of our birth.” Sliver replied, “It will be our home again.”

“No…no, it could never…never…” the warrior twitched and shook, his eyes squeezed tight shut in pain as he tried to take one last breath, his mouth opening and only a strangled gargle emanating into the night.

Sliver leaned down and kissed him on the muzzle as she brushed his mane from his eyes. There would be time to mourn later, when she would sing all of them to the afterlife, remembering their deeds and their bravery. For now, she had to get away from here. One thing she had learned about Celestians, was where there was one, there were more than likely a lot more. She winced as a jolt of pain from her wing ran through her; she’d have to reset the bones soon and treat any infections. Thank the Goddess that she’d managed to recover some of the medical supplies from the wreckage. Hopefully, her rudimentary healing knowledge would be enough, or she could find herself joining Sliver sooner than she’d like. Trotting off into the forest once more, the thestral headed in what she hoped was the right direction for the regional command. With the Goddess on her side, she might even make it.

Nearby, a pair of deep purple eyes watched the thestral hurry away into the night.

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

Fuze collapsed onto the frozen ground, his flank burning like fire as several ponies gathered around him. One of them was nodding quietly to herself while she examined his injury,

“Get him into the shelter quickly, and bring the Lieutenant.”

The dun stallion winced at the way they pulled him up onto the makeshift stretcher, but at least he was safe, and alive. Gritting his teeth, Fuze thanked Celestia he had been able to avenge his brother as the stretcher began bobbing along. Those damnable things had killed his friends, well, one of them anyway. Limbo had always been a bloody idiot and it had only been a matter of time before he’d bought it. But that beast he’d faced…dear Goddesses, the speed! The power! How the hell was a thing that looked like a walking skeleton so damned strong? He himself was no weakling, he’d been raised as a farm hoof, and years of pushing and pulling heavy farm implements since he was a little more than a foal had made him what he was today: strong, tough and durable, just not fast…and that bloody thing had been fast. Damn the thing!

Fuze hissed in pain at the ponies touch.

“Keep his still, damn it all!” the medic snapped, “Celestia buck me, will you hold him down? How am I supposed to stitch him up if he keeps bloody well flailing about?!”

The medical pony’s horn glowed bright blue, the needle and thread digging into Fuze’s flesh, pulling it together. It wasn’t a deep wound, but it hurt…by the Goddess how it hurt! Fuze tried to stay still, but it was like he was on fire, burning from the inside out. It was that creature’s blood on his spear that had done it! The beast’s evil had seeped into him, turning him into…into one of them! A skeletal horse! A beast, a nightmare from the deepest pits of Tartarus! He had to tell them, he had to get away!

“For the Goddesses’ sake!” the medic snarled, “Get me more ponies here!”

Fuze mercifully began to drift into unconsciousness, the dark pulling him down into a deeper place, a safer place, away from the pain and fear of the waking world. Standing above his now unmoving body, the others finally relaxed. The medic shook her head,

“That should do it. What a bloody mess.”

“How is he?” The white stallion asked walking up to her.

The charcoal coloured mare wiped her bloodied hooves on her apron and spat on the ground,

“He’ll live, but he’ll have one hell of a scar.”

The Lieutenant clopped her on the shoulder, “Good work, Faith.”

“Yeah.” The medical pony shook her mane and sank to her hooves, “You can thank me by getting me some more needles and thread if you want this lot sewing up any more.” She grinned, “Got any baccy on you?”

The stallion shook his head, “I don’t smoke, Faith, you know that.”

“Huh!” she huffed, “I don’t know what she sees in you, you bloody misery.”

The white stallion rolled his eyes as his medical officer wandered off trying to scrounge up some tobacco. Insubordination would never have been tolerated before, but here, nerves were constantly strained and keeping a bunch of untrained, if rather overenthusiastic soldiers together, was a task that had been both challenging and oddly rewarding. He’d spent years in the army already, far too many…mostly sat on his arse. That wasn’t what a real soldier did, not in his mind. He’d wanted to see the world, to explore, to have adventures like the heroes had in his books on the war of the three tribes. Goddesses, how bloody naive had he been?

Trotting back to rest of his command, one of the older officers nodded to him and smiled,

“Get your lost sheep back, Cove?”

“One of them.” The Lieutenant replied.

“Damn…” the orange stallion lifted his muzzle, “Sorry old boy.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Cove sank onto the branch covered ground and shook his head slowly, “You disobey orders and this is what happens. I’ll speak to the others in the morning. Hopefully, this may be the lesson they needed.”

“Hell of a harsh lesson, Cove.” The older pony said with a sigh, “Hellishly harsh.”

The Lieutenant shook his mane, “We need to win, Starch, that’s all.” he yawned and stretched, pulling the cloak around himself as he moved closer to the brazier, “We just need to win.”

“No matter the cost, eh?” Starch asked.

Cove nodded, “No matter the cost.”

“How’s your wife doing?”

“She’s good.” The Lieutenant replied with a faint smile, “I got a letter from her this morning, threatening to kill me if I get myself killed.”

“Doubly dead, eh? Harsh.” Starch chuckled, twirling his large moustache, “My old girl’s watching the world go by from our villa in Llamalia. Probably the best place for her, wouldn’t you say?”

“I suppose so.” Cove said, snugging his cloak in.

Starch grinned, taking out his pipe, “Keeps her out from under my hooves, eh?”

“Mmm,” Lieutenant Cove took a deep breath and tried to think about what their next objective was going to be. Their orders had been exceptionally vague: to kill the enemy, disrupt their supply lines, destroy their homes, and to avoid confrontation wherever possible. Of course, it all sounded so bloody easy on paper, didn’t it? The explosives had been a Goddess-send though, the small casks proving to be exceptionally lethal when primed with an igniting agent. Unfortunately, the prospect of ‘payback’ as some had called it, had lead to idiots like Fuze rushing off to do things ‘their way’. By the time they’d realised what he’d done, the clown had managed to destroy a thestral medical supply wagon but also get two of his ponies killed. The scavenged supplies had come in handy of course, but the loss of two of their number killed and one injured had been a blow. Discipline was not something Equestrians seemed to have in large supply he’d noticed, but if he didn’t do something, this could spread like an infection through his group. Perhaps the reckless actions of Fuze, the death of two of their comrades and the shrieks of the injured pony as he was sewn back together would teach them more than he ever could. He sighed. Dray had been right: Ochre’s soldiers had been soft. Physically fit, yes, well drilled, yes, but when it came to combat experience and knowledge, they were hopelessly lacking. Fortunately Dray had assigned experienced officer like Starch to help form the mixture of veterans and civilians into cohesive ‘strike teams’ as he called them. Of course, he hadn’t seen Dray since…He shook his head. Damn it, he didn’t want to remember that now, he could still smell it…the smoke…

Taking a deep breath, Cove stretched out his hind legs and rubbed them with his forehooves. Goddesses above, if Dray found out he was here and not back with Fair Breeze, he’d be beyond furious. He’d made him a promise, and he’d broken it, but at least he’d broken it with the blessing of his wife. He smiled, remembering the small wedding; the way she’d looked up at him with those big eyes of hers…he wondered how she was getting on with the folk back home? The older ones had set up their own workshops making winter gear for the troops. He was wearing one of them now, a warm cloak and scarf. Cove lifted it with his hooves and inhaled…he could still smell her…

“Wish my old girl would send me things like that, Cove.” Starch noted, sending a plume of pipe smoke up from the corner of his mouth, “Can’t knit or sew worth a damn.”

“She doesn’t send you anything?” The Lieutenant asked in surprise.

Starch laughed, “Asked for a bottle of Llamalian Port you know, damned fine stuff it is too. Did you know they export over half a million barrels a year? Half a million!”

“What was it like?”

“Like?” Starch gave him a sly grin, “I’ve no idea, the old bag sunk the lot before I got to taste a drop!” He leaned back and winked at the Lieutenant, “Remembered to write to tell me how good it had been though, and even sent me a copy of the bloody receipt too!”

Cove smiled; the orange stallion had a way of cheering him from his melancholy that appeared as effortless to him as the act of drawing breath. He was a little eccentric of course - a lesser Lord from one of the southern counties, but one who was surprisingly down to earth for a pony he would have normally considered as ‘upper class’.

Starch stretched and leaned back against a tree, attacking an itchy ear with brute force,

“What’s next on the agenda?”

Watching him, Cove couldn’t help but chuckle, “An artillery supply dump.” The Lieutenant rolled out a map, weighting down the corners with stones, “We’ll be part of a wider scale attack that will begin with us hitting the Legion supplies here at Belle’s Orchard.” He tapped a small spot on the map, so small that Starch had to peer at it closely,

“Never heard of it old boy,” he replied shrugging, “what’s the lay of the land there?”

Cove reached over for his water flask, “Small town, about four to five hundred residents: a mixture of ponies, the odd griffin - the usual.” He took a pull of the water, “Recon shows thestrals and minotaurs, although mostly our two legged friends. There’s several new buildings, probably barracks, and the dump for high energy magical explosives.”

Starch sighed, “Guess it was too much to hope the griffins would only sell to us then.”

“Money talks, my friend.” Cove replied with slight shake of his head.

Studying the map, Starch’s pipe smoke curled up around him, dissipating into the night. The tree branch shelter they were in had been well put together, but was no real substitute for proper tents. Such luxuries however, would only slow them down. These raids were all about speed - hitting hard, and getting out fast with minimal casualties. He glanced up at the young Lieutenant,

“We’re the lamb for the lions, eh?”

“It looks that way.” The Lieutenant said solemnly, “Any thoughts? I’d appreciate the advice of an experienced hoof.”

Starch laughed, nearly choking on his pipe smoke, “Experienced hoof? Maybe at running away!” He shook his head, “Ahh, but no more eh? No more.” The orange stallion rolled his shoulders, “There’s a reason you’re in command, Lieutenant, it’s because your ponies respect you and trust you. We all do.”

Cove sniffed, “Because I know Dray?”

“No, because he respects you” Starch pointed a hoof at him, “He knows you’re here.”

“Oh, Goddesses…”

“Ha!” Starch barked out a laugh, “You think he wouldn’t find out? He has eyes and ears everywhere old boy. There’s no hiding from the great poobah.”

“I’m not going to ask…” Cove rolled his eyes, leaning back, “Let’s get some sleep Starch, we’ll need to be away from here first thing.”

“You think our over enthusiastic young warrior may have let some slip through eh?” The orange stallion asked.

Cove let out a breath, looking out into the night,

“Aye…I do. If there was something I learned, Starch, if it can go wrong…”

“It will go wrong.” Starch finished, “But of course my boy, the trick is to make it go wrong for the other poor sod.” He raised an eyebrow and smirked, making Cove smile in response.

He was right of course, but asking so much of such untrained ponies was a hell of a lot and, Cove hoped, not a step too far. It was up to himself now, as raw as he was himself in actual hooves on experience, to keep them alive. Thank the Goddesses for Starch and the others. With their combined experience and Celestia’s blessing, they may get out of this alive yet.

It was a few hours yet until they had to move, a few hours in which he could try and grab some much needed sleep. Tiredness was a killer, and for a leader, a poor decision made due to muddled thinking could cost them dearly. He prayed Fair was alright, and thinking of him. By the Goddesses good grace, all he wanted was for her to be able to live in a world without fear, where they could all live in peace. Drays family, those little foals, his loving wife…he had to do something to help bring this horror to an end so nopony else had to suffer, and Fair had known it too. Dray would understand.

Outside the shelter, something moved through the fallen twigs and snow, catching his attention. It was probably a fox, or some other woodland creature. The guard they had on was good, and it was excellent experience for the new troops, paired up as they were with the veterans. He shrugged it off and closed his eyes, though instinctively, his hooves reached for his sword. You could never be too careful.

In the darkness of the forest, a shape, blacker than the night…moved. Quickly and quietly it slipped away, careful to avoid making any more noise and escape the notice of the pickets. Sliver melted into the depths of the forest, her focus now fully upon warning the garrison and…She stopped and looked around. Was something following her? Her mane twitched nervously as she stared into the darkness. Goddess damn these creatures; if she hadn’t lost the use of her wing, she’d have been able to take flight and get to the garrison in plenty of time to lay an ambush for these arrogant…there it was again! What was that? She drew her axe, her heart rate increasing. It was probably some woodland dweller, but best not to take a chance out here on her own. With a deep breath, Sliver replaced her weapon, lowered her head, and charged off through the forest as fast as she could run.

On through the night, the thestral dodged between trees, rocks and across streams. Endurance was not a particularly strong thestral trait, but Sliver had always kept herself fit and healthy. Pacing herself, she calculated that she should reach the garrison by the following afternoon. It wasn’t far now, but her wing, broken and rendered useless from the explosion, burned as if it were on fire. She’d bound it tightly to her side, but each movement, every jump, every jolt, was white hot agony. She ignored it; there was something far more important at stake here than her wing. Her brothers and sisters were stationed at that garrison and she had knowledge that could help them defend themselves. Sliver hadn’t seen much of the Celestian camp, but there were enough of them to pose a very real threat and the magical explosive they’d use would deal death aplenty for the unsuspecting garrison.

The sun had risen and was already beginning to arc its was down towards the horizon when the snow began in earnest. It was probably as good a time as any to rest, and the water in the stream up ahead looked clean and inviting; as did the rabbit lying next to the campfire…

Sliver pulled up short and ducked back into the thick undergrowth, cursing her luck, but maybe it was one of their own patrols? Celestians didn’t eat meat of course, but griffins did, as did minotaurs. She waited, various thoughts and possibilities racing through her mind: should she skirt round the camp or wait to see who came? But then, she was so hungry…and the rabbit was fresh too…

Time passed with no sign of movement. Sliver shook her mane; she couldn’t wait any longer, nor could the garrison. Quickly, she snatched up the rabbit, wolfing it down before slipping back into the dappled light of the forest’s interior doing her best to remain concealed. If nothing else, there was always the chance a hunter may mistake her for prey and it would be wise to put as much distance between the camp and herself as possible, just to be sure. Dodging between the trees, Sliver moved off once more, picking up her pace and doing her best to ignore the protests her tortured body was making. She would make it to the garrison soon - she had to, for her brothers, her people…there were so few of them now…so few. Mother had told her to stay behind, stay and be safe, protected with the elderly in the tribal village - but who could even entertain such thoughts? She’d raged at her mother for daring to suggest such a dishonourable act of cowardice, an act that would have dishonoured not just her, but her whole lineage. Of course she could understand why: females who could bear young were becoming rarer with each passing year, the number of young surviving into adulthood depressingly low. She knew the reasons for that too of course - they all did. Endless fighting over resources and the thestral love of battle had lead them to the brink of extinction and now the homelands were near empty following the Goddess’s call to arms. Here at last was a chance, a chance to be free of the darkness and a chance of a new life in a new home, the home of the Goddess’s chosen. How could she stay behind and watch others go off to fight for their future? The future of her foals? She smiled to herself as she ran; the thought of childbirth was daunting and yet exciting at the same time - the prospect of taking a mate when all this fighting was over, equally enticing. She would choose well: he would be strong, brave, a warrior who had the scars of battle to prove he had been no frightened foal when the horns of war blew. Sliver would make her parents see her as a true warrior of the Goddess. They would be proud of her, they would…they would…

The world lurched.

She couldn’t breath. Overwhelming pain suddenly coursed through Sliver like a white hot knife, her stomach cramping and feeling like it was being squeezed by some monstrous claw. She gasped out in agony, collapsing to her knees. What the hell was this? Had she pushed herself too far? Again the pain came in a wave, threatening to overwhelm her. The thestral mare tried in vain to push herself to her hooves, trying desperately to push the pain aside and move on, but her legs simply refused to obey her. She was beginning to sweat profusely now, her stomach heaving up everything she’d eaten and more…blood. Sliver closed her eyes, willing this away, praying it was a passing malady; what was happening to her?

Painfully, she looked up, noticing the bushes move nearby. Framed in the dying light of the sun, a dark four legged creature emerged, his breath curling up around his muzzle in the cold air. Despite her wavering vision, Sliver could see he was a lithe looking stallion, covered in slim packs, belts and equipment, all of it designed to fit snugly and not flap around when the wearer moved. As he walked confidently closer, she noticed something else about him: the long fur and dark colouring. She gasped out a sigh of relief; he was one northern tribes, he could help her! She looked up into his eyes and tried to speak, her voice painfully dry and rasping,

“Help me, brother.”

The stallion walked closer, his oil black mane flowing over his long furred body. He cocked his head on one side as if thinking, and then took off one of his packs. Sliver closed her eyes. These ponies were adept at healing and other arts; if he could just help her that little bit further, she could warn the garrison. But, what if she couldn’t make it? What if…No, she had to tell him, he could warn them himself, in case she was…unable to continue. Sliver opened her mouth and paused. Why was he taking out that knife? She looked up questioningly into his deep purple eyes. The look of utter impassiveness she saw in them froze her heart, even as another wracking bolt of pain had her choke back a cry. The stallion leaned down to her, the knife held in his hooves. Sliver looked up at him, blinking back the sweat that stung her eyes,

“Why?”

The pony furrowed his brow a moment in thought, “Why?” he said, “Because some of us don’t want to live in your shadow, to be no more than servants to abominations that treat us as though we are nothing.”

“That rabbit…” Sliver whispered.

The pony raised an eyebrow, “Poisoned. You’ll die slowly and painfully if I don’t finish you now.”

“You…” Sliver choked, the blackness pulling at the edges of her vision, “You traitor! You would…you would betray…the Goddess?”

“She’s not my Goddess,” the stallion replied watching how the light reflected off his knifes edge, “Besides, it’s nothing personal, you understand.” He leaned down and with a quick thrust, opened the artery in the thestral mare’s throat. She choked, gasping out her breath, thrashing in an ever expanding pool of her own blood while the stallion looked on with emotionless eyes. He sat on his haunches and watched Sliver’s struggles quickly subside, her chest’s rise and fall gradually coming to halt as the mare’s spirit finally departed her tortured body.

The stallion wiped his knife and placed it back into its sheath. Calmly, he opened another pack and took out a sack, a small hatchet and a longer, thin bladed knife. Placing them beside the still warm body, he moved closer to Sliver’s neck and found the best place to begin. The blade glinted in the dappled light of the forest, reflected in the purple eyes of the stallion as he murmured half to himself and half to the dead thestral,

“It’s just business.”

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

It would soon be time. The ponies had their orders, the teams were all in position and the explosives distributed. When the time came, each of the various teams would move into position, place their devices and then get the hell out of there. They had their times, their locations, and the rendezvous set. Now, all Cove could do was pray that the operation would work as it should. Best of all, the thestral disdain for ponies had proved to have an unexpected bonus: their barracks had been built outside the town near the supply dump. They probably thought that out here in this remote place, they would be unlikely to be attacked. He intended to prove them wrong…very wrong.

Starch crawled up beside him, a telescope quickly appearing in his hooves,

“Doesn’t look like they’re expecting us, Lieutenant. Reckon we caught them napping this time, eh?”

“I hope to Celestia you’re right, Starch,” Cove moved back from his position and back into the cover of the trees, “these damn things have surprised us before.”

“True, but not so likely with minotaurs, I’ll wager.” Starch gave his mane a quick scratch, “Thick as bloody bricks that lot. Damned tough beggars though, I’ll give ‘em that.”

The young Lieutenant shook his head, “Still, I don’t like it. According to that damned fool Fuze, one of the thestrals got away. For all we know, we could be the ones going into a trap down there.”

“I doubt that.”

Cove jumped back as a heavy sack landed at his hooves. The long haired creature gazing at him had eyes that felt like they were boring into him: as cold as ice and as totally unfeeling.

“Who do I collect the bounty from?”

The Lieutenant blinked in surprise, but Starch came to the rescue,

“Five hundred a head wasn’t it?” the orange stallion said grimly, “Go and see the yellow mare with the green cloak over by the cart.” He pointed towards the sack, “Take that with you, she’ll settle up with you.”

Silently, the long haired pony nodded and then trotted back to where a number of ponies were busy organising small fast carts of supplies and gear. Cove watched him go,

“Who the hell is that?” he breathed.

“His name’s Flux,” Starch said quietly, “or at least, that’s what he calls himself. Bounty hunter.”

Cove shook his head in disbelief, “A bounty hunter? Good Goddesses, who’s idea was that?”

“Dray’s apparently,” Starch shrugged, “Helps us though, and Celestia has the backing of the nobles now so money’s not a problem.”

“He’s not from Equestria,” The Lieutenant said staring after the bounty hunter, “I know that much.”

“I suppose technically he actually is.” Starch said dismissively, “His kind are what we used to call the ‘grey ghosts’, or the ‘northern tribes’. Now that the barrier’s down, they’ve tootled along into the heartlands along with their thestral chums.” He looked over to where the long haired creature was collecting his money, “Damned glad he’s on our side though, eh?”

“The side that pays the most you mean.” Cove felt a shiver run through him. The look in that ponies eyes - that haunting stare. He knew that on some level, that stallion would not think twice about killing, without regret and totally without mercy. Good Goddesses, was this what war did to ponies? To think those cold purple eyes would be the last thing somepony would see…

The minutes passed, time inexorably fading from the future, to the present, to the past, drawing them towards what could well be their last moments in the plane of the living. Cove nodded to Starch, who hurried away while he himself went to join the first team. He checked his watch, the second hand clunking away, sounding horribly loud in the quiet of the long grass with only the breathing of the stallions and mares around him. Five seconds to go now…four…three…

“Let’s move.”

The team slipped down the hillside as silent as ghosts, their coats covered in a mixture of ash and mud, dulling the normally colourful fur of the Celestians to almost black as they approached the perimeter fence. The thing was quite well built, but there was one fatal flaw in the design: in their eagerness to set up away from the townsfolk, the Legion had, to avoid building partway up the incline, incorporated the stream that ran down to join the river. The fence had been altered here, with the addition of some stakes driven down into the bed of the stream. A little prying, using the naturally lower aspect of the terrain as cover, allowed the earth ponies to dig them out with relatively little effort. The use of magic here, with its attendant glow, would have risked giving them away. A few seconds was all it took, and with a flick of her hoof, the earth mare waved her colleagues through.

Cove kept low and on his belly, his white coat showing to a small degree from his shallow dip in the stream, but enough of him remained covered to do his job. Now, it was only a matter of getting their barrel into place by the barracks. All of his team were tense; he could feel it in the air around him - that intoxicating taste of excitement mingled with fear. They all had it, and they used it to drive them on. Ponies were herding creatures, and in numbers, in togetherness, there was strength - and it was cohesiveness they needed tonight. One of his team slid up beside him tapped him on the shoulder…

Damn it! A minotaur was lumbering around the corner of one of the buildings, the massive creature walking right towards them! Cove unhurriedly reached for his crossbow and flicked off the safety. Hell fire, it was too soon! They’d have to kill it and hope to Celestia that the…

It stopped, turning slowly, and sniffed the air. Suddenly, it made a strange gargling noise and walked forward a few steps before staring up into the sky. Like some monolithic tree felled by an axe, the bipedal creature toppled over, the moonlight catching off the bloodied shaft of the crossbow bolt protruding from the back of its skull. Cove looked around, just managing to see the shadow of one of their pegasi disappearing back into the cloud cover. He’d thank them later, but now his team had to play their part, and they had to move…quickly.

Nopony spoke: there was no need. Training in silent communications signals, albeit rudimentary, had been something Cove had developed as a personal hobby during his time in Ochre’s service - a time when he’d had far too much of it on his hooves. Now it was proving to be unexpectedly useful. Orchid, his fastest pony, took the barrel from Whisper and placed it beside the water butt where it wouldn’t look out of place. She set the timer, and withdrew. It was all…surprisingly easy. Cove and the others covered the door to the barracks where the loud noise of minotaurs soaking up alcohol emanated from the wooden walls of the building. If nothing else, it helped smother any sound they may have inadvertently made, but so far, so good.

Whisper nodded to Cove and the team began to withdraw to the stream, remaining ready in case the second team needed assistance, but Starch signalled that all was well with the barest glow from his horn. It was time to…

The first explosion went off.

Cove and his team were thrown around by the concussive blast like ragdolls, the bright green flash illuminating the area like some bizarre parody of sunlight that left a bright afterimage on his vision. Almost immediately, secondary explosions began to rip through the artillery dump, with barrel of explosives catching light and detonating, throwing shrapnel and other half burnt barrels out into the camp and, horrifyingly, the nearby town. Whisper gasped in shock, picking himself up,

“Lieutenant! The town!”

The falling barrels dropped from the sky like messengers of death, detonating in the streets, crashing through roofs and turning ponies homes into blossoming green flares of matchwood. Shrieks and cries rose into the night, not only from the now fully roused garrison, but from the town as well. Cove stared, unsure what to do. What the hell had gone wrong? Why…?

“Lieutenant! What are we going to do?!”

Cove stared in horror as another house was ripped apart, and there, in a window…oh Goddesses - a foal, held in her mother’s forelegs as a gout of flame blew out the glass and flared up the chimney. He had to help them! He…he shook his head. No, he had to pull his team out; saving them was the priority, they had to come first. He turned to the others,

“Withdraw, get back to the rendezvous.”

“But…!”

“-That’s an order, Whisper! You will do as you’re damned well told!” Cove glowered at the ash blackened pony and motioned to the others to head through the gap in the fence. Whisper glanced back at the scene of horror behind him and then looked back at the Lieutenant, his expression unreadable,

“Yes, Sir.”

Cove was the last to leave, watching the fire in the town take hold. There, amongst it all, he saw shapes, black winged shapes, flying up to windows and carrying down ponies from the burning buildings. He saw minotaurs smashing down doors and pulling out families, he watched as their own explosive detonated and ripped the barracks apart even as more of the garrison ran out to help the townsfolk. He could feel the heat from here, the screams of pain and fear tearing through his soul.

Something moved.

The Lieutenant stared in horror as from out of the smoke and noise, a broken and bloodied apparition appeared; a beast from the depths of hell, covered in blood with smoke rising from its smouldering coat. Eyes red as a smith’s forge locked onto him, staring right into him…it knew he was there, it could see him as plain as day. The thestral pause and glanced towards the town, then looked back at the Lieutenant. The creature’s eyes…oh Goddesses forgive him…those eyes…

The thestral snorted and then turned suddenly, charging off towards the town. Cove watched him go.

“Lieutenant!” Orchid hissed back, “We’re all through, you’re the last one.”

The Lieutenant nodded, crawling back to the gap they’d made. Pausing, just for a moment, the image of Dray’s family flashed through his mind: he could see them, he could hear them - it was Honeysuckle, Polo and Dawn Dew, trapped in the house, burning, crying for help…why couldn’t he help them? WHY?!

“Sir!”

Cove gave himself a shake, throwing off the intrusive mental imagery, “I’m coming.” He slipped under the fence, “Let’s go everypony.”

They ran, running for the concealing shroud of darkness in the forest. It wasn’t far to the rendezvous point, not far at all, but by the Goddesses, the young stallion just wanted to run - run forever. At least in the all encompassing darkness, nopony could see his tears.

The rendezvous was a mass of ponies all rushing to place the wounded and maimed onto carts amongst the provisions. Cove looked about at the bloodied and ragged ponies, quickly realising that his team was the only one that hadn’t been mauled in the raid. Starch was there, thank Celestia, but his ponies - they were…he shook his mane and hurried over to where the orange unicorn was being helped onto a cart,

“Starch! Are you badly hurt? What the hell happened?”

The veteran officer looked back at him, waving the medic away,

“Cove? Thank the Goddess you’re alright boy…” he let out a cough, wiping the blood away from his muzzle as he tried a weak smile, “hearing’s a bit knackered, few ribs beggared and all that. Dashed lucky to be still the full stallion I’d say.” He closed his eyes, letting the medic bandage his head, “Damned fuze was faulty and went off early. We lost a few of our lads and lasses because of that. Damned bad show, eh, Cove?”

“Aye,” Cove hung his head, “A damned bad show”.

“Come on now, chin up!” the orange stallion chirped, “We gave those rotters a damned good pasting and knocked a few years off the war I’ll wager.” He gave him a wink, “No sulking old boy, stiff upper lip and all that!”

Cove rolled his eyes, leaving the medic to do what he did best. They’d be moving off any minute and just as well, they couldn’t afford to hang around. Not that they really needed to have been in such a hurry though; the garrison, or rather what was left of them, were fully engaged in trying to save the town. Even up here he could hear the shouting and smell the acrid smoke carried on the breeze. Damn it…DAMN IT! He spat angrily on the ground and began adjusting his gear ready for the march, his heart now as cold as ice and his mind a battlefield of raging emotions.

Looking up, he saw the looks on the faces of the others. They were all thinking the same thing; they had to be - was this really the only way? Was there nothing they could do to bring this conflict to an end without more innocents dying? Dear Goddesses, what if…what if Ochre had been right, what if surrendering really was the best way? He didn’t know anymore, and frankly, he wasn’t going to think about it. He had a duty to his Princess, to Equestria, and he would do whatever it took to bring this horror to a close. He sighed, shouldering his pack and headed off with the rest towards their next destination. If there was one thing that he would remember from all of this, it was that war truly was hell.

Comments

[Truthseeker]

O.K. that's it, THAT IS IT! I am calling you out on this one, Bluespectre.

There, amongst it all, he saw shapes, black winged shapes, flying up to windows and carrying down ponies from the burning buildings. He saw minotaurs smashing down doors and pulling out families, he watched as their own explosive detonated and ripped the barracks apart even as more of the garrison ran out to help the townsfolk. He could feel the heat from here, the screams of pain and fear tearing through his soul.

Bullshit, bullshit, BULLSHIT! The whole story, the WHOLE GOD DAMN STORY, you have been describing exactly how monstrous the Thestrals are, and the Minotaurs have been even worse. And nown NOW suddenly for no apparent fucking reason, no hints about it, no mentions of why, suddenly these fucking monsters are SAVING CIVILIANS!?

BULLSHIT OF THE HIGHEST ORDER, SIR!

I would like an explanation, please. I adore the quality of your writing, minus the typos. The heroes are appropriately flawed, the setting is gritty, the storyline complex and yet can be followed easily enough. You have pulled off everything, EVERYTHING I love in a story... with one exception: the monsters suddenly grow hearts? Since when?

Thestrals kidnap and rape their own females because there are too few of them. They kill eachother off because they're addicted to murder. They wantonly slaughter anything they do not like or even mildly disagree with. They are more than happy to murder foals (which they OBVIOUSLY would have if Chalk and Braken had not been there). They are the absolute epitome of monstrous, not only in appearance, but also in deed. The ONLY Thestral who has had ANY sort of honor, morals, or even ethics has been Thorn and his part in this story has been minimalistic at best. This makes no sense. I need to know, for I cannot continue.

[LexCrowne]

7918098
The entire time so far we've been seeing the darkest sides of the thestrali and the light of the celestians, is it any wonder now that an author that has freely admitted they like turning things on their heads has done exactly that here and is showing what he meant by the thestral's strange honor earlier, and just the lighter side of thestral culture in general? after all, Thorn(?) did mention that the thestrals were following NMM due to the promise of a new land of peace and prosperity. Why would that mean so much to them if they didn't have the capacity for it (even if they rarely exercise it)?
It's also mentioned that while they were remarkably savage murdering and raping one another in the past, they had decided to change as a race, which was one of the reasons the bloodlust of the haj(?) was such a big deal.
Just food for thought~ I hate black and white characterizations of anything really, especially in seemingly well thought-out stories such as this