• Published 8th Jul 2012
  • 8,157 Views, 1,040 Comments

King of Diamonds - Midnightshadow

  • ...
20
 1,040
 8,157

The Halls of the Ice King

♠♣♥ King of
Diamonds
The Ambassador's Son - Book 2
════════════════════

Chapter 27
The Halls of the Ice King
An MLP:FiM Fanfiction by Midnight Shadow


♠♣♥

The wind howled like a pack of demons, driving the snow into their faces like a thousand tiny knives. It was as if the wintry assault was enchanted, somehow charmed to find every loose fold and flap. By the odd, reverberating whinnies that floated on the wind, it was more than likely.

"Stay close, children," huffed Nyyrik as he forged through the deepening snow, one wing holding his ratty cloak above his head whilst a claw held his staff aloft against the night. It glowed with a silvern intensity that pierced the shadows and reflected off a myriad flakes of snow. "I don't want to lose any more of you." He shuffled awkwardly on three limbs, casting his gaze all around, looking for trouble, as he broke the trail through the drifts.

"I'd be hard-pressed to lose you, old timer. I can smell you even through the frostbite," hissed Carmine, shuddering and fluffing her neck feathers out in disgust. She turned her head, snorting as if trying to clear a blockage.

"Humph. I risk life and wing to rescue them, and instead of gratitude and thanks, I get demands for unwanted ablutions!" Nyyrik stopped to turn and glare, then turned back and began stomping through the snow again, mumbling to himself and gesticulating wildly into the darkness with his staff, the light and shadows dancing around him. "Ceaseless entreaties to wash! And spoil my body's natural oils? Now I remember why I spend so little time in so-called 'civilized company' – so many demands! I think I prefer the tundra."

"You live out here?" hissed Penny, cocking her head as she half leaped and half stumbled awkwardly in his wake through the deep snow, wings half spread. The pegasus was covered in ice and snow, her usually copper coat drenched in white – though with only Bella's sputtering horn-light and Nyyrik's staff to illuminate their surroundings, she appeared more grey, almost as ghost-like as the pooka.

"In a way," replied Nyyrik, emitting a squawking chuckle as he paused for a moment to catch his breath, turning to grin at the pegasus. "The alternative is to live in the citadel. That sort of life's not for me, though I do go back when circumstances demand it." Nyyrik took a swig from his hip-flask, then swore. Turning it upside down, he growled. "And, of course, to get a refill." He tensed suddenly as the wind shifted, then sniffed. "Do you smell that?"

"No," hissed Carmine. "I don't think I'm going to smell anything else ever again, either."

Nyyrik swatted Carmine on the beak with one of his foreclaws, then plunged the butt of his staff into the snow. "Adnachiel fill my senses," the old buzzard mumbled, as he hunched over his staff. His tufted ear-buds flicked about for a few seconds, and then he let loose a loud, piercing cry before lifting his staff out of the snow to point it back the way it came. "Aciel! Burn them! Incendium!"

A bright flare of flame spat from the end of his staff and loosed itself back the way the small group had come, the youngsters diving out of its way with varying cries of surprise and dismay. Its brightness was swiftly swallowed by the storm, but the anguished roar of some unearthly creatures soon floated back. Penny, last in the quintet, shied away from the mournful tones in horror, whinnying in panic as she sought to get closer to the group. Bethany briefly put a reassuring claw on the scared pegasus' withers, then moved behind to guard the rear.

"Pooka?" asked Penny, her voice nervous and loud. She rustling her wings anxiously as she drew closer to Nyyrik, shedding snow and would-be icicles in a miniature drift around her withers.

Nyyrik shook his head slowly, and gestured for Carmine and Bella to move past him. The unicorn's hornlight wavered with fear, but brightened as he gave her a reassuring smile. He drew alongside Penny, then began walking with her as he addressed the panicked mare.

"Rockbears, my girl. Related through blood and ancient sorcery to the ursa major, though more… base than their celestial cousins. I do wonder why they're awake." the old buzzard sniffed again, though this time merely as he pondered. "I suspect foul play. There's good news and bad news," he added, shouldering his way back through the group slowly before stopping and turning to address them all.

"What's the bad news?" asked Carmine, her crest rising in nervousness as a distant chorus of roars rent the air.

"They know where we are," grumbled Nyyrik, motioning behind them into the dark. He planted his staff into the snow and leaned on it, the group watching unsurely and swapping glances with each other as he muttered under his breath.

"Then what's the good news?" called out Bethany, looking over her shoulders before leaping forwards to stand before the tired old mage.

"I know where we are too," said Nyyrik, a calm resolve settling over his features. "You must trust me, children. You must trust me, stay with me, and do as I say. If I lose you to the Iceveldt, then come summer when we find your remains, there will be little but bleached bones and feathers. Am I clear?"

"As crystal," replied Carmine.

"Then move. I shall catch up."

Hesitantly, Bella led the way, her horn spitting and flaring with magelight as she and the others started moving again, forcing tired limbs through the snow. The exertion was taxing on all of them, and their movements were slow and sluggish… but move they did, gaining new appreciation for their eccentric guide. The path, what there was of it, was becoming clearer now; the snow was growing shallower, with hints of tracks that were visible – if barely – in Bella's flickering horn-light. It weaved from landmark to landmark – rocks mostly, boulders large enough to remain visible, scoured clear of snow by the wind – as it wound its slow but steady way through the mountain range.

Bethany, on a whim, paused to listen, her other senses peeled. There was a minute surge of power from behind her, and Nyyrik seemed to slump. Bethany warbled in dismay as the light briefly faded from his eyes, but he swiftly gathered himself and straightened. He scowled at her when he noticed her gaze.

"I thought I told you to keep moving?" he grumbled, stalking huffily towards her.

"C-can I help, Master Nyyrik?" she asked fearfully. He chuckled and shook his head.

"My girl, I sense you have the gift, but not the training or the skill. Yet," he added, grinning. Then he pointed to the ground with a claw where he had just been standing, "I've left a little present for our friends out there. Have no fear for my well-being, lass, I am far from finished. There's life in these old bones yet, and I plan to keep it that way. Now hurry, move!"

The tatty griffon spread his wings and leaped ahead, catching up to the group, urging Bethany and her friends onwards. Exchanging worried, scared looks with each other, the four wearily forged ahead.

As the night wore on, the storm began to ease. Every so often the sounds of detonations would drift on the wind, followed by roars from the rockbears, as Nyyrik's 'presents' were discovered. It seemed to make the creatures angrier rather than act to deter them, and more than once the youngsters exchanged baffled looks with each other.

The creatures were leisurely stalking their prey. This was no fruitless mad dash, this was a prolonged harrying which would carry on for hours or even days, until one side or the other dropped from exhaustion. Nyyrik had the group pace themselves, and every so often would loose a fireball, far into the night, then urge the youngsters onwards. In the flickering magelight, his growing grin was mischievous, almost frightening.

"Are you sure you know," muttered Bella darkly, turning her head after one such exchange, "what you're doing?"

"Of course. We're almost there. This way!" Nyyrik urged them onwards, gesticulating roughly with his staff. He turned to face the darkness behind them once again as the roaring increased in volume somewhere back down their trail. Raising himself up on his hind legs as the four girls fled at the frightful sounds, he screeched a griffonic war-cry at their ferocious pursuers.

"No argument from me," said Carmine, stealing a look behind into the blackness. "Come on," she called to the others. "The dirty old bird has a plan, and it's probably better than dying out here in the cold."

"Your faith in me is touching," called Nyyrik over his shoulder from where he stood staring into the night. He smirked, then spat, coughing.

"And if anything of yours is touching anything of mine, you'll lose it," Carmine called back.

Nyyrik barked out laughing as he fell back down to all fours, wings still half-spread. "Spoken like a true warrior! Ah, if only I had the wings to woo one such as you," he said with a heavy sigh, turning and following.

"You try and you'll lose 'em," huffed Carmine, scowling as she felt his gaze roving over her body.

"Our courtship will have to wait, my dear," called Nyyrik, catching up. "My only wish is that by my prowess in battle I am able to prove my worthiness to be your consort." He bowed, spreading his wings wide, then turned yet again to lower his staff and launch another barrage of fireballs downrange.

"She's spoken for," hissed Bethany, ducking and flexing her wings as another set of pain-wracked howls reverberated across the tundra.

"Ah, now I see! Only young love could turn your gaze from mine!" Nyyrik loosed yet another set of fireballs as the rest of the gang, mere feet ahead of him, continued their hastened trudging. The bears were nearer now, their roars more frequent and louder.

"I'm not even going to dignify that with an answer," huffed Carmine, glaring at the snow as if her disapproval could melt it. Sadly, she too had to content herself with bounding, wings half-spread, from drift to drift.

Nyyrik gave another half-hearted, tired-sounding war-cry, this time tinged with mournful sadness. "Then all is lost," he bemoaned, once he'd fallen back to all fours to continue moving. "Loyalty to your one true love. That's how it starts, you know."

Carmine glared over her shoulder at Penny as the pegasus choked back a giggle. "Quiet, you," the griffin hissed. "What are you going on about, Nyyrik? And why in the name of the first egg are you still leading those rockbears our way!?"

"She has made her choice. And once again, Nyyrik is left high and, unfortunately, very, very dry," Nyyrik mumbled. He was wheezing now, and his fireballs – that he'd been firing regularly – were flickering and erratic in their motions. Now more often than not, they were striking the trees that were rapidly forming a part of the scenery. The trail had snaked down below the tree-line, and was now skirting a forest.

"Yes, yes, that's all well and good," shouted Carmine, "but we're about to be eaten by rockbears, whatever they are! If you have a plan, now would be a good time to put it into motion!"

The rockbears roared again; the noise had grown much louder, and it had changed – the creatures were closing in, and they knew it. With the shelter of the trees, however, the snow was somewhat shallower. Luckily, the rambling trail had become an actual path, clear of debris, and the pace of the group – that had been flagging – improved as they turned into the forest proper. The starry sky above them, which had been infrequently visible through the steadily lessening clouds, disappeared beneath the canopy. Bella and Penny glanced about nervously – forests meant new dangers, like timberwolves and burrowing wyrms – but with a clear and present danger behind, there was little choice.

"The clearing just up ahead," shouted Nyyrik suddenly, gesturing. "Stand in the exact middle of it." Nyyrik was hunched over, waving a wing towards the area that was just visible at the very limit of his staff's wan magelight.

"A clearing? Your plan is for us to pretend to be an hors d'oeuvre?" Bethany stopped at the edge of the clearing for a moment, and glared at back Nyyrik before she stumbled onwards into bright moonlight and once-more deep snow. The storm had lifted, the clouds had parted, and the stars above shone with a fierce intensity. It was also cold, and her breath steamed, ice forming on her beak.

"Indeed. Try to look tasty," he called. Swearing under his breath, Nyyrik waited until the last of his charges had reluctantly moved to the centre of the clearing, then followed after them. Once past the perimeter, he headed around the group rather than inwards, digging the butt of his staff into the snow as he began to draw a largish circle. "And don't stand on my runes."

"Whatever you're doing, do it quicker!" hissed Bethany. She ruffled her feathers and hopped from foreclaw to foreclaw, clenching them in the snow as she readied for battle, eyes scanning the treeline.

"The finest mages of a century ago would take three days just to draw the primary locus. The greatest among us once spent his entire life planning but a single, solitary, great incantation. But me? I make do with what I have." Nyyrik straightened, nodded to himself a couple of times, then moved and struck his staff deep into the ground in the exact centre of his protective circle. He closed his eyes as he started murmuring. For their part, the battle-hardened youngsters huddled closer together as enormous pawsteps thumped louder and louder, closer and closer, shaking the ground.

"Now would be a good time," suggested Penny, shivering. She'd have liked to pretend it was because of the clearing skies and falling temperature, but it wasn't. "You know, if you're ready."

"Now is a good time," agreed Nyyrik, and in one smooth motion, he lifted the staff out of the snow and held it above his head. "Master Och! Suffuse me!" he cried, then reared back on his hind legs, spread his wings and uttered a reverberating battle-cry that rolled out into the blackness, stunning everybody into silence.

For a few brief moments nothing happened, but then, with gunshot-like cracks, the trees at the edge of the clearing were all but shattered as enormous, multi-fanged, grey, bear-like beasts shouldered their way into the far side. Their hide glowed dimly, as if the memory of stars moved in mottled dance beneath their fur. Their eyes were large and expressive, exuding a shrewd, violent intellect, and nothing even approaching mercy. At the beasts' approach, Nyyrik's crude yet effective magic circle burst into blue flames. The beasts howled and roared at being denied their prey, throwing themselves against the magical barrier again and again, but were violently repulsed each time in showers of sparks.

"This isn't a plan, Nyyrik!" shouted Carmine. She ruffled her feathers and reflexively clenched her claws. Breathing hard, every instinct told her to scream and leap, to sink her beak and claws into her enemies, and kill them or die trying. Behind the barrier, she did not feel safe, she felt trapped.

"At ease, young hen. We have this under control."

"'We'?"hissed Bethany. Her feathers, too, stood on end, and she trembled with suppressed action.

"We," stated Nyyrik softly. Straightening, he raised his voice. "Now, my brethren! Make your stand! For our king and our nation!" His cry was answered by at least a dozen others as griffons suddenly rained down from the trees or burst from beneath the snow, shedding ice from their feathers in an explosive blizzard. They showed neither fear nor hesitation as they engaged the gigantic beasts. With arbalest, pike and greatsword, the griffons fell upon the rockbears, moving in a deadly dance rehearsed through years of training and drills.

The rockbears' joyous howls of hunting swiftly turned to roars of anger and pain as pike-wielding griffons separated and herded them into precise kill zones. Greatsword-bearing griffons from the patrol swooped down from above, slashing against exposed tendons and joints, fighting in close quarters, whilst the patient arbalest-toting archers picked at them with swift, deadly bolts.

"Wingsecond Arak! To me!" called one griffon as he squared off against the largest of the rock bears.

"Knight Captain!" replied Arak, moving to join the first. Together, the pair brandished their swords and advanced on a cornered rockbear, alternatively drawing the creature out and then slicing at it, opening deep welts that bled a thick, white fluid.

"Wrynn! Behind you!" cried a third, as she dove overhead, flaring her wings for a direct claw and paw attack that left her captain's beast blinded. Knight-Captain Wrynn and his Wingsecond Arak turned and, as one, sliced off half the muzzle and one lunging forepaw of a beast that had flanked them. Moments later, and a screeching winged demon plunged her twin bastard swords into the bear's chest. Its fearsome howl died on its lips as more white, glowing blood burst from its muzzle.

"Wingfirst Teaghan, consider yourself reprimanded for interrupting your Captain's hunting," chuckled Arak, wiping his own blade off on a dead rockbear.

"So long as I am commended for my swift bravery and decisive action in saving my captain's life, I think I can live with myself, Wingsecond Arak." replied the griffoness as she pulled both her swords out of the still-twitching corpse beneath her, smirking.

"I'll call it even, then."

"Spoilsport."

"Coo later, lovebirds," grunted Wrynn. "Right now we have a job to do."

"Sir!" came the joint reply, and quick as a flash the pair turned and headed straight for new targets. Wrynn himself barely dodged a sideswipe from a massive, club-like paw. He laughed it off as he hacked at the creature. It roared in pain before toppling, a shaggy mane of bolts having sprouted from its back. A quick, bone-crunching thrust from a dagger clutched tightly in Wrynn's claws ended its life.

Hissing and growling, Carmine and Bethany spun, glaring at the rock bears. They had tried to fight as soon as battle was joined, but Nyyrik's impenetrable shield worked both ways – for griffons as much as rockbears. The four youngsters were forced to impotently watch and wait as the newcomer griffons on the outside fought with deadly efficiency and skill. They gave no quarter, and did not hesitate in their grisly work. They dove, spun and twirled in effortless motion, using the shield to their full advantage. It was clear that dealing with the rockbear population was as close to a routine training exercise as could be.

The very much one-sided battle ended almost as soon as it began. It left three bears dead, one whimpering and heaving on the battlefield, bleeding out from a multitude of wounds, and several more fleeing for their lives back into the wilderness, trailing silvery rivulets of blood as they went. The last mortally wounded creature was dispatched with a single thrust of a blade into the back of its head.

"Always pick off the big ones," huffed Wrynn, wiping his blade off on the now-still corpse. "Helps keep the trouble-makers to a minimum. Well met, Nyyrik, old friend."

"Well met, Knight-Captain Wrynn," Nyyrik replied formally, slumping. He fell back onto his haunches into the blood-spattered snow, wings drooping listlessly. His magefire barrier faded, sizzling out and plunging the clearing into gloom. The old griffon sat there in the dim starlight for a few silent moments as the youngsters blinked in astonishment, before he raised one foreclaw. "And before I perform my next trick," he said breathlessly, "does anybody have something to drink?"

With a deep-throated chuckle, the eyepatch-wearing officer reached into his own cloak and extracted a small flask, which he handed over to Nyyrik. Muttering a few thanks under his breath to the Knight-Captain Errant, the scruffy old bird unscrewed the top and took a long, long swig before he handed it back – empty.

"May I present to you," Nyyrik said hoarsely, wincing and beating his chest from the burn as he stood up onto all fours and gestured with a wing, "King Varden's Finest, the thirty-seventh reconnaissance wing of the Wintry Kingdom?"

♠♣♥

A fire crackled brightly in the middle of the clearing, and the youngsters all huddled gratefully around it. Carmine and Bethany were pecking at some barely-cooked rockbear flesh, whilst Penny and Bella chewed methodically on blocks of compressed field-rations. All four looked much refreshed. Nyyrik, too, held himself a little straighter. The dirty bird was even attacking a haunch of roast rockbear, wiping his face off with his already-filthy cloak. Smacking his beak, he exhaled happily and burped. Turning to the youngsters, he leaned forwards expectantly.

"And now, If we are all somewhat fortified, perhaps you four can do me the favour of explaining just who you are and where you found a warship sporting griffonic thaumology?"

"Indeed," Captain Wrynn added, "are we really to believe that four fledglings are on a great hunt across the nine realms with your… friends, the dragon and the troll? Forgive me, but it seems…" The red-hued, eyepatch-wearing griffon waved a foreclaw in circles, "a little far-fetched?"

"Then what do you think we're doing all the way out here in the arse end of nowhere?" growled Carmine. She fluffed out her feathers huffily and scowled.

Wrynn snorted. "I must admit, your tale strikes me as so far fetched that I am inclined to believe it. But it doesn't answer the question of where you stole the ship from. You certainly didn't build it yourselves. My scouts tell me the fires are out, and despite the heavy landing it is… salvageable."

"We..." Bethany began, as she exchanged glances with Carmine and the two ponies. Penny shook her head, but Bella shrugged and nodded, as did Bethany. "We kind of… borrowed it."

"I see. And how did you pilot such a ship?"

"Chip did it. The, er, dragon. He…" She gestured with one claw, twirling it in the air in confusion. "He made it go," explained Carmine.

"Its engines are based on griffon thaumatology," said Bethany, grinning as she gently forced Carmine's claws down. Her voice was level as she looked at the griffons that sat around the fire one after another. "The spells Chip used on it were developed by a unicorn, centuries ago. And refined by his father, Sharptooth. The unicorn's name was Bevel—"

"Bevelmiter," said Wrynn, cocking his head at the astonished pair of griffons as he looked up from his sword. He grinned, then idly continued polishing his weapon with a whetstone. "Don't look so shocked, my lady. I may be a warrior at heart, but my teacher was no less strict about fighting with words than my sword."

"Though I do recall having trouble persuading you to read all that I assigned to you," said Nyyrik, clicking his beak and chuckling.

"Bevelmiter. As I live and breathe," mused Korin, a griffon who had been introduced as one of Wrynn's paladin-scouts, a tawny and gold lion-tailed griffon, larger than Wrynn but not as sharp-edged. "One of the few unicorns to not only take an interest in our ways but to master them. Whatever happened to him?"

"I-I… there was a book th-that Chip had," Bella stated hesitantly. She cast her head about, looking from her friends to the griffons and back. When Bethany gestured to carry on, the unicorn turned again to Wrynn and continued talking. "It smelled strange. I wouldn't like to hazard a guess. When we find Chip, we can ask him."

"You say that as if you suspect foul play. Believe me, young lady," Wrynn sheathed his sword in a long scabbard that rested atop his wings along his back, "if half the stories about Bevelmiter are true, then there are very few creatures in this world that could have bettered him, even on an off day. He could give a dragon pause for thought, and the Egg knows dragons are… tricky, even for griffons."

"That's why we're going to get Chip back. He's… not like other dragons," said Carmine, cautiously, sharing a glance with Bethany and the others.

"Dragons aren't like other dragons," laughed Wrynn, to answering chuckles all around. "But in your case, I believe you. We spied no dragon-tracks, the armour he left behind is small – though draconic – and smells of pony as much as dragon. And not as many things are on fire as I would expect." Wrynn paused, then clicked his beak and chuckled. Rolling his eyes, he added, "That last statement was a joke, you are permitted to laugh, despite it being blatantly obvious you have yet to tell me everything."

Bella's ears did prick up, but soon drifted back down again. "I'm cold," the unicorn stated suddenly. "We're all cold and tired. And I'm worried sick about Chip and Ruff." The unicorn's words were joined by murmurs and mumbles of agreement from her friends. They were all flagging, despite or maybe because of the first real food they'd had all day. Penny in particular was fit to drop; her pegasus metabolism had exhausted her reserves, and her entire body drooped, wings and all. Taking pity of her, Wrynn motioned to one of his wing's members to arrange a blanket for her. She sunk into it gratefully, fighting to keep her eyes open.

"Well then," said Wrynn after a few moments deliberation, "if you have no more vargash'iin to invite to dinner, then perhaps Master Nyyrik could take us home? The king must hear of this at once, and we are many days travel from The Wintry. And at least one of your number cannot fly."

"I was afraid you'd say that," grumbled Nyyrik, spitting out the thigh-bone he'd been gnawing on for the last half hour. "I'll get you home, but you owe me."

"Another batch is just about done brewing."

"You know me so well." Nyyrik heaved himself to his paws. Despite the rest, the old buzzard looked more haggard than ever. Even though his prowess with the magical arts was obviously great, it was clear the evening's trials had drained him.

"And the wenches have likely forgotten about your last misdeeds by now. And if the wenches haven't, the heifers probably have." Wrynn ducked as Nyyrik threw the remains of his meal at the laughing griffon.

"You wound me, youngster," Nyyrik huffed. "Long have I sought a fair maiden worthy of my abilities and considerate of my temper."

"Often, too," cackled Wingfirst Teaghan, flicking her tail-feathers at the dirty bird and shaking her hips.

"Hush. Not for just any young set of haunches and a pretty tail will this old buzzard clip his wings." Nyyrik began to draw once more in the snow with his staff as he spoke; this time the design was but a simple circle and a few careful sigils. "Gather, now. I am tired and old. I would have all of you in one piece at the other end, and not be missing any tails, wings or limbs."

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" whispered Carmine, crest rising once more as the group pulled in tighter, various members of the wing taking up defensive stations around the core.

Wrynn grinned as he leaned in conspiratorially towards Carmine, flicking his little ear-tufts in mirth. "For all his words, old master Nyyrik is the finest mage on both sides of the Crystal Mountains. Only once have I seen a failed transport, and that was quite deliberate."

Carmine swallowed, heavily. "What happened?"

"Let us just say one should never insult King Varden's virility and threaten to rape the queen or the rest of the royal brood."

Penny and Bella both recoiled, but Bethany nodded. "A capital offence in any event."

"I am not proud," huffed Nyyrik, scowling. "It was just in the eyes of our king, but there was no honour in it. Together, now! Keep together! Here we go!"

The magical forces which had been building slowly but steadily peaked in a crescendo of sparks and fire. The snow that had previously lain about, dormant and silent, was whipped into the air, dancing in a frenzied cyclone as Nyyrik's spell was finally unleashed.

In a single, blinding, lurching moment, the world turned inside out and deposited the four youngsters, the mage and the dozen warrior-griffons in the centre of a great, marble-swept hall. The sudden silence was deafening, almost painful. It was broken by the brief pitter-patter of the last of the tundra's snow falling to the floor, where it swiftly melted.

Breathing heavily as she fought back nausea, Bethany frantically smoothed down her ruffled neck-feathers. "What was that!?"

Nyyrik looked surprised. "Translocation, girl. Relatively simple when you've done it regularly a few times."

"How far?" Bethany's voice was urgent, her voice hoarse. Carmine cocked her head at her friend's reaction. She and the two ponies were feeling sick too – though it didn't seem to have affected the rest of the wing – but Bethany seemed strangely intent.

"About fifty leagues or so, maybe a hundred." Nyyrik picked at his ragged wings with his beak, snapping up a few bugs as he dug them out, twisting his head to and fro. "I'm not quite sure. It's three days travel, ish, unless you wanted to kill yourself or sleep on the wing. Why?"

"That's… that's not…" Bethany staggered away from the tight group, wandering around the large hall she now found herself in. She muttered to herself about thaumic transit imbalances and dweomer matrix destabilization.

Nyyrik chuckled, though he nodded knowingly to himself as he watched her confusion. "I can't recommend it after a fight like that for most magii, my girl, but I've been around the eyrie a few times. Be calm."

"If only you would develop enough self-respect to land in it, too, and take up your rightful duties," said a new, regal voice. The owner was a large, white-headed armoured griffon with piercing blue eyes. "Greetings. I was not aware the thirty-seventh wing was expected back so soon. I assume you have an explanation? Knight-Captain Wrynn?"

"Grand Knight Taran, Sir," replied Wrynn, bowing down and spreading his wings perfunctorily before standing upright once more. He then gestured to Carmine, Beth and the two ponies. "These four youngsters arrived in an airship with two other of their friends, over the Crystal Mountains near Windigo Peak. The ship crashed, but it is of Equestrian origin and has sustained only minimal damage to the superstructure and should be repairable… should such action be deemed necessary and proper, of course."

"An airship? How remarkable." Taran approached boldly, eyeing the newcomers sternly.

"Sir. It was…" Wrynn turned and raised an eyeridge at Carmine before turning back to the newcomer. "It was borrowed. According to these youngsters, it was empowered and piloted by one of their friends, a dragon, using ancient griffonic magics."

"A dragon, eh? I dare say it can be dealt with—" Taran lifted a talon to signal to one of the many guards stationed around the hall, but was swiftly interrupted.

"No! You won't hurt our friends!" blurted Penny, leaping forwards despite her exhaustion. She was quickly but gently restrained by one of the warrior griffons surrounding her. Taran turned to face the pegasus, coolly adjusting his wings.

"My young filly, if a dragon is loose amongst the wilds of the Crystal Mountains, and it refuses to cooperate with my king or seeks to claim territory, then it will be put down."

"He doesn't want territory, he's with us! He's looking for the same thing we are!" shouted Penny desperately, the whites of her eyes showing. She threw herself against her gentle captors, but slumped, almost falling, in despair and exhaustion. Korin helped her up, inclining his head with compassion as he supported her.

"Which is?" Taran stood tall, proud and haughty.

Bethany hissed at Penny to be silent, then turned and addressed the Grand Knight directly. "Sir, that is for the King's ears alone."

"You dare speak to me—?" Grand Knight Taran's feathers fluffed up in an indignat ruff. His voice was calm and dangerous.

"We request Parley," interrupted Bethany, just as calmly. She straightened, fluffing up her neck-feathers similarly. "An audience, with the king. Carmine Wildfeather, First Born of the Elder of the Wildfeather Clan demands her due."

"I do?" whispered a shocked Carmine. Her ear-tufts twitched in confusion as her crest rose. Bella's ears pricked up and even Penny turned, in the gentle but firm grip of two griffons from Wrynn's Wing, to stare.

"Yes! Trust me!" hissed Bethany back. She turned to the newcomer and looked him straight in the eyes. "We have fought dragons and diamond dogs. We have braved fire and flood and I claim by right of passage the station of Paladin, and my liege-lady that of knight-protector, of Tacksworn."

Taran's neck feathers fluffed up so much that they almost blinded him. "I refuse to hear any more of such nonsense!" He snorted, then gestured to Wrynn dismissively, "Take them away, confine them to quarters until morning, when I shall decide what is to become of them!" Taran spun, and stalked off. Wrynn and his squad had been dismissed.

"But—!" began Bethany, reaching a claw for the Grand Knight as he exited through one of the many doors out of the hall. She was swiftly silenced by Nyyrik's claw on her shoulders. The old griffon mage had stalked up silently and was brimming with quiet confidence.

"Lass, learn to pick your battles. The Sword of the King is as short on brains as he is of temper," the old buzzard whispered. "The Wand, however, thinks deeper thoughts."

"And you'd be the wand, I suppose?" Carmine asked quietly.

"By the First Egg, no! Me? Dress up in such frippery and ponce about all self-important? Bathe?" Nyyrik seemed positively aghast by the idea, pulling his ratty, moth-eaten and incredibly ripe cloak about himself in horror. "I'd rather be banished. But I am his counsel. I taught him everything he knows," the old bird grinned wryly, "and one of those things is to notice when things require a closer look." Nyyrik strode between Bethany and Taran, spreading his wings placatingly. "Come, it has been a long night. In truth, it is almost the next day, and you all require rest. True rest. Antigan, Garat, see my charges to suitable accommodations near one another. Have guards posted outside their doors to see they are not disturbed and to see to any needs they may have. They are to be otherwise unmolested. Am I making myself clear?"

The two griffons turned to Wrynn, who nodded. They turned back to Nyyrik, bowing before him.

"Y-yes Nyyrik, sir," said one of the two named griffons, a tawny fellow with a hawk's tail.

"At once sir," replied the other, a jet black and maroon-hued smaller griffon with white socks around his rear paws.

"Good. Then I bid you adieu."

"What are you going to do?" called Bella after the retreating griffon, as he threw his cloak behind himself and began to stalk off.

"First I'm going to get a drink," he called, over his shoulder. "Then I'm going to get a wench. And then when I'm done with both of them, I'm going to see Lord Kem, Wand of the King."

"See that you do," rumbled Captain Wrynn disapprovingly, though his beak turned up at the edges in a wry smile. "Or I'll pluck you bald and give you that flea dip you so sorely need!"

"A change of heart in favour of our young adventurers?" mused Nyyrik, his voice distant with mocking laughter as he disappeared through another door.

"Nay, but anybody who can stand up to that pompous windbag Taran is okay in my book." He grinned at Bethany, who blushed, her neck-feathers rising sharply. "Come, the dirty old buzzard speaks the truth. It is time for rest. Welcome to the Wintry, children. Walk this way."

♠♣♥

Ruff awoke. He was cramped, it was dark and he sorely needed to relieve himself… but he was alive. He was thirsty and hungry, too. The former would be easy to deal with, he rationalized, just as soon as he was up and about. He swiftly dug himself out of his holt and emerged into painfully bright sunlight and crisp, cool, mountain air. Snatching a mouthful of snow, chewing and swallowing hastily against the shocking cold, he decided he would see first to the call of nature and then deal with his body's need for food. Retreating behind one of the few bushes that poked above the blanket of snow, he did his business then buried the waste under the frozen ground before kicking his hind claws clean in the snow. Taking a few short leaps, he scooped up more fresh, clean snow directly into his muzzle and, shuddering and drawing another deep breath against the sudden bite of the icy material, chewed and swallowed. Cold, but serviceable.

It was several more hours before he found a reindeer, had verified that it wasn't able to talk and was therefore viable prey, and then had taken it out in a swift, deadly strike from a thin spar of lithomanced rock. Raw meat wasn't something he was overly familiar with, but he was a diamond dog. Blooding, gutting and skinning his kill was relatively easy, especially with his new skills of lithomancy to fashion some stone blades with.

Speaking of tools… Digging a nearby half-buried treetrunk out of the snow, Ruff tore off a thick branch, ran a claw along it until the bark was stripped, then used said bark to tie a flat, pear-shaped rock blade to one end. It was a crude staff, but sturdy. It would do. Growling to himself in Trollish, Ruff tore off a hind leg from his kill, then buried the rest deep under the snow, far from where he had gutted it. He had no idea how long he was going to be out here, he reasoned, and hunger would be a constant companion, not to mention the ever-present threat of freezing to death. That meant he would need the animal's pelt, too, and preferably something to cure it with… either that, or put up with the smell and hope it cured itself. Maybe he could find a river, find some salt or agreeable rock substitute, build a fire, blend the animal's brains… Ruff stretched. He was a diamond dog. He would make do.

♠♣♥

Chip awoke with a start. He hurt all over, he was cold, and the fire had gone out hours ago. Desperately huffing and puffing, he managed to spit out a tiny wad of molten magma-phlegm. It was enough to rekindle a small blaze, but whatever dragonfire he still held within was not enough to chase the chill away completely. Slowly he started to feel a little warmer on the outside, but still… he feared for the inside.

He shook himself vigorously when he finally crawled out from under the tree. The sunlight was so bright it hurt his eyes, and his mouth was painfully dry, but he was indeed alive. It looked like he had a chance of staying that way.

He took a few mouthfuls of snow, wincing at the cold, then staggered further downhill in search of anything green and edible. The rocks smelled… wrong, unappetizing, too full of dirt. Reluctantly he scraped his teeth on misshapen tree trunks, finding scant nourishment in the brief mouthfulls of moss, but grateful for it all the same. Slumping against a recently-denuded tree, Chip found himself breathing hard as he choked back a sudden explosion of tears. He felt so alone.

"What in Tartarus happened last night?" he moaned, as he finally collected himself. "Lights, voices… urgh, so confused. What in Equestria am I supposed to do now?" He was too tired and hungry for flight, and looking at his half-frozen wings, covered in pine needles and dirt, he wasn't sure they would hold up to use without maintenance in any event. He stretched them experimentally; they felt heavy and sluggish, and moved poorly. "Okay then, first things first: find food and shelter. Then try to work out where I am, and where I should be."

"Well-met, friend" said a new voice. Chip whirled, reflexively spreading his wings. They drooped as if injured, and he hissed, favouring them. The newcomer was a largish equine, more a horse than a pony, with white fur and a long, flowing, golden mane and tail.

"Who… where did you come from?" Chip growled low, taking a backwards step.

"I and my kin live here, amongst the trees." The creature's voice was calm and level, even friendly. "You are welcome here, friend. Come! I am sure my herd will accept you, should you wish it."

Chip blinked, sniffing experimentally. "Is it… close?"

The creature nodded. "Very."

"Do you have… food?"

"You will not go hungry."

"Then…" Chip turned, back the way he had come. Probably. It was all starting to look the same wherever he turned, and even if he got back up into the mountains, he wasn't sure he'd be able to find his way home. Recuperate first, then worry about the others – they'd be surely doing the same. "Then lead the way."

Chip followed, stumbling in exhaustion, as his companion picked his way daintily through the snow. The horse moved easily, passing between the branches like a shadow, whilst Chip plowed along behind it, finding it a lot harder to make headway.

As the sun rose higher, the burgeoning forest swallowed them both up.

♠♣♥

Carmine awoke. For a few brief, heavenly seconds, all was at peace. She was ensconced in a snug, wide nest lined with the warmest, softest of down whilst muted, soothing sunlight played across her wings and back. Distantly, she heard the sound of birdsong, sweet and carefree.

Paradoxically, it was the birdsong that reminded her of the snow and ice, and of their lonely, lost predicament. This, in turn, led to a brief flare up of confusion as she tried to remember just how and why it was that she – and presumably her friends – were not freezing themselves to death in some desperate arctic wasteland.

Griffons, a search party, a disgusting and lecherous – yet solid and trustworthy – mage, and fearsome ursine monsters.

Oh.

And Chip was still out there, hopefully with Ruff, whilst she was inside, in the warm. It didn't feel right.

Stretching, Carmine eased herself from her bed, fluffing up her feathers for extra warmth as she surveyed her surroundings: the ceiling was high and vaulted, carved seemingly directly from the rock. It was patched here and there with some sort of cement and painted with muted yet refined colours. An ornately decorated dressing screen stood against one wall. She strode over to it curiously and reached out a foreclaw for the airy, semi-opaque veil and flowing train that were hanging in the shadows on the other side.

"They belong to one of the the maids in waiting, Lady Carmine," called the voice of Knight Captain Wrynn as he gently closed the door. "Handmaiden to Princess Becca, in fact."

Carmine whirled, stepping backwards. Her leonine tail lashed nervously. "I was just—"

"With her blessings, My Lady," urged Wrynn, the corners of his beak turning up. "It was she who demanded you take her room."

"I… it's not right."

"Lady Carmine, quite apart from the fact you outrank her, you are a guest. What is ours, is yours. Within reason, and should you feel the call of the Juliet cap, far be it from me to stop you."

Carmine sighed, then dropped her foreclaw. "There is one I would wear it for, Captain Wrynn, Sir, but he is not here to receive me in it." Carmine spoke carefully, with none of her customary flippancy. "A-and truth be told, my parents and his are the instigators."

"You travel far from your betrothed—"

"Not betrothed," Carmine interrupted, clearing her throat. "And not that far. He is… or was, with us."

"The troll?"

Carmine barked out in brash laughter. "No. Ruff is sweet, and strong, quick of mind and big of heart, but he is not my fiance. I'm talking about Chip, the... dragon."

To his credit, Wrynn's neck-feathers barely flickered. "You hesitate, yet I declare you speak the truth of your heart. I sense there is much you need explain. Come, join us as we break our fast before the king. Speak the truth, the whole truth, without hesitation, and fein will you be heard and understood."

"Y-yes, sir," replied Carmine, bobbing her head. She took one last wistful look at the cap, then turned to follow Wrynn.

The rest of the girls were just filing in to the corridor that led to the great dining hall as Wrynn and Carmine reached the large, double doors. Subtly, with the effortless grace of the well-rehearsed, the quartet had been maneuvered into prime presentation order; Lady Carmine, First Born of the Tacksworn Elders. Lady Bethany Lionstuft, Field-Paladin of the Tacksworn Proctectorate. Bright Pinion, adjutant to Lady Carmine and finally, last but not least, Isabella Liriope, unicorn mage in training.

After the fanfare and the loud, booming introductions, all four found themselves in the middle of a huge, round table, standing before King Varden and a few select advisors, trying not to tremble.

"Greetings, fair maidens," intoned the king, inclining his head. "Forgive me for such rudeness as an interrogation before a meal, it is not the intent of the Wintry Kingdom to slight you."

"None taken—" began Carmine, though she was interrupted by a rumbling noise emanating from Penny. The king chuckled.

"This will be brief, dear children, I promise," said the queen, giving the king a pointed stare. "Then you will be fed. We let you sleep, and would have fed you in your quarters, but I hear tell this is important?"

"It is, your highness," replied Wrynn, inclining his head.

"Tell me, then," the king asked gently. "Tell me what it is you seek." He pecked at the haunch of some large animal held fast in his claws and watched the four like a hawk.

"Your highness, first of all, we beseech you, save our friends," begged Bethany. She lowered her gaze, staring at the ground. "Two of our group are still out there, in the snow," she added, voice almost a whisper.

"We have reason to believe they are both still alive," stated Wrynn, admiration plain on his features.

"They are!" exclaimed Penny. "I… I know they are."

Bella shouldered her way forwards. "They are. I'm… not much of a mage, but I would know if they were dead."

"The safety of your two friends," mused the king, narrowing his eyes. "I see. But go on, that is not all that brings you before me."

"We—" began Bethany. Carmine opened and closed her beak a couple of times, then put a claw on Bethany's wing.

"I got this, Beth. We'll tell the truth. Your highness," said Carmine, as she turned to the king, "we've come from a little town a long, long way away in the Southern reaches of Equestria called Tacksworn."

"It's so far south that it's almost not in Equestria, actually," added Penny, smiling nervously, before flicking her ears back against her head.

"Tacksworn…" The king rolled the unfamiliar word around in his beak. "I… know of it, I believe."

"You should," said Carmine. "We've come for the staff." She stood and silently waited whilst the king carefully kept his expression level. The king broke first, and he slowly put the leg of meat down with an audible thunk onto his plate. He worked his lower jaw in circles for a few moments, then fixed the youngsters with a new, appraising stare.

"I have always wondered when, or indeed if, the time would come when I would discharge that ancient oath that my father and his father, and their forefathers before them, took up. But you must understand, I cannot—"

"Sir, er, your highness, sir, umm…" Penny stepped forwards, bowing her head. "We really have come a long way for the diamond dog king's staff. We really need it."

"We have the first part – I have the first part – in my saddlebags," added Bella. "From the dragons. Quetzal… something… gave it to us. Chip could tell you more, but he's… somewhere out there—" Bella gestured with her horn to a window "—and we need to find him before it's too late. Because if we don't find him, then…" Bella paused, and then almost deflated. "W-we need to get the staff s-so the dragons don't get it. Dragon. A dragon. And her changelings and trolls."

As Bella fell silent, the king leaned back in his throne, tapping a claw on his beak thoughtfully. "Dragons are known for their subtlety, young ones, and their tact, but they are not known for such… flagrant displays of wanton trespass and senseless destruction. Not, at least, from those who have Returned." He studied the children silently for a moment. "My Lady," he asked, turning to his wife, the queen, "what say you?"

The queen, a regal silvern and tawny white griffoness, raised herself demurely to her hind paws and stepped easily onto and then over the dining table before bringing herself down to all fours, almost beak to muzzle in front of Bella. "Unicorn, attend me."

"Your highness?" Bella asked, taking a hesitant step forwards. She trembled as the queen grasped a hold of her horn with a single, huge and powerful foreclaw, before pushing down Bella's head to peer at it. The queen rasped her beak lightly over the unicorn's horn, tasting it, before she spat onto the cold, hard floor.

"I taste changelings. And trolls. And the blood of the summoned. This is no act. At the very least, these children have seen battle with many the griffon nation calls enemies, or at best but faint acquaintances. However, questions remain, my husband; are these children who they say they are, and are they worthy – should they even be found reliable enough – to take up the ancient staff of the khan?"

The king stood to help his wife as she stepped back over the table once more, kissing her foreclaw with a beak as she passed.

"The Queen's council is as wise as she is beautiful," the king stated, as he straightened. Then he turned back to the children. "It behooves us, then, to establish your bona fides. Tell us of this… aircraft. By all rights, the arrival of an Equestrian air-navy battleship – fully armed no less – is a presage of unrest, even war, even should its arrival be followed by a hard landing such as yours has sustained. But this airship, I am told, is no ordinary ship of the line. Whilst its construction is of the same high, recognizable standard of all Equestrian crafting, its motive force is not. The main engines, whilst familiar to my learned eyes, are enchanted with glyphs, runes and spells which are almost wholly alien – to both griffon and equestrian magics. So tell me, young ones, where did you find raw talent so ingenious and capable as to single-clawedly reinvent dweomeric motivators?"

Bethany shared a look with her other three friends, then took a step forwards. "Your highness, Chip is a pony that's been turned into a dragon. His dad, Sharptooth, has a book by Bevelmiter. Chip learned the magic and… fixed it. I don't know more than that. My father died before he could teach me."

At that moment, the griffon who had met them the previous night stood up violently. "This is ridiculous, your highness! These… these… these troublemakers – spies, for all we know! – arrive here with a quite frankly ridiculous sob-story and some suspiciously incomprehensible broken hardware and you believe them?"

"It's not broken! Our airship—! Your highness!" protested Bethany, forcing herself to step forwards, ignoring the angry, protective glares that turned her way. "Your highness, our ship is fully functional, it only crashed because Chip was… I think Chip was hurt from his battle in Leviathania. I-I mean it might be broken now, but it wasn't!"

"Nonsense, child," scoffed Taran. "It was a decoy, a bluff, nothing more. It cannot func—"

"It worked," growled Beth, snapping her beak authoritatively.

"My liege, it is the opinion of the Sword that these children are nothing of the sort, they are charlatans, or chattal, in league with those who would bring your house low—" Taran flared his wings, hurling insults as he gesticulated wildly in the four childrens' direction.

"Your majesty," said another voice, as an older, thinner, greying griffon stood up and moved to stand next to Taran, his pawsteps slow and methodical as he strode around the perimeter of the table. This griffon's voice was quieter, yet seemed to carry more weight. It cut through the heated tempers like a hot knife through butter. "Your majesty, may I question the youngster?"

Beth held her breath, and exchanged worried glances with both Carmine and Bella. Penny's gaze was locked on the ground, and she was breathing heavily. Bella comforted her as best she could, with short, reassuring nibbles on the mare's mane.

"You may, Wand." The king nodded, curtly.

"But—" began Taran. He was cut off with a brief glare from King Varden.

"Sword, hold your tongue lest I remove it. Your king commands it."

"Your highness," replied Taran, stiffly. He sat, and glowered.

"Now, Wand, ask."

The Wand of the King spread his wings, then leaped over the table, in defiance of his apparent age. He glided down to stand almost beak to beak with Bethany. "Tell me what you can, young warrior-mage, of this Chip's machining."

Bethany gulped. "I, uh… it's a mixture o-of dragon, unicorn… and griffon magic, Sir. Bevelmiter developed a runic system for unicorn magic. I-it's kind of similar to griffon runecrafting, but… the glyphs are different. Chip though… Chip didn't care. He made it work. He merged Unicorn and Griffon magic into Draconic thaumomancy, but… he did something… strange." The griffon fell silent. She shrunk back, away from the elder mage, looking around at Carmine.

"Tell me what he did, my child. I sense you know more still."

"It's okay, I think," said Carmine, nudging Bethany gently. "We should tell them. Everything. We need to trust them so they can trust us."

"O-okay, if you say so, Car." Bethany turned again to the old mage and looked him straight in the eyes. "I don't know exactly what Chip did, but I told him not to. He did it anyway, twice. He's a pony, on the outside, but… I saw him cast dragon magic. He made wings that he wears, on his back. They're powered by the same engines the ship has… and they work the same way; they're a part of him. He controls them. He makes the ship go. Without him, it won't fly. I think that's why it crashed. Sir."

Nodding, the griffon turned to face the king. "Your highness, I believe them. The reason we cannot deciper the runes in the children's craft is because they are indecipherable with griffonic knowledge alone. There is no subterfuge. Should it be a trick, then to precipitate this trick, needs must these children would still be recipients of an unknown magic – and to attempt such subterfuge thus would be folly beyond measure."

"What do the Shield and the Fist say?" asked the king, glancing meaningfully at Taran to continue being silent. Two more griffon nobles, seated further around the table, shared a glance. The younger, a female, cleared her throat.

"The Fist concurs with the Wand."

"As does The Shield," added the other.

"I see. Summon Nyyrik." The king slammed his fist down upon the table, then took a few more hefty bites of the haunch before he threw the bone over his shoulders for several large, wolverine-like creatures to fight over. "I would have preferred we had all eaten first, but I did at least stress that a bath last night would not go amiss. Mayhaps he took my advice. I just hope he washed himself with soap, not females, this time. Or flea dip." The king roared with laughter as a few of the nobles present shared knowing glances. Only Taran did not smile, but his scowl did soften a smidgen.

A few minutes later, a bedraggled – but thankfully less fragrant – Nyyrik bustled through the doors, contemptuously knocking aside both bugler and announcers. He headed straight for the table, took a large roasted wing of some enormous avian in one claw and yanked it from its socket before ripping off a few beakfuls and chewing heartily. After swallowing, he bowed low and subserviently to the king.

"Forgive me, your highness. I was… recuperating from the harsh patrol and rescue of last night. I am not quite myself, and do not think well on an empty stomach."

"Or a sober one," murmured the king. "Tell me, my old teacher: what do you make of these children?"

"They speak the truth. Two of their young companions are lost on the Iceveldt. That one is a troll is no doubt. I met him myself. The other, Chip, is an enigma. Tracks say Equestrian, scent says otherwise. They – we – were beset by the Pooka soon after their ship crashed. Their thaumic systems were live, powerful and potent, but… ill-controlled. They were not ready for the windigo, much less the pooka or the rockbears."

"I see. They seek the staff of the ancient high king, Nyyrik."

Nyyrik paused in his devouring of the wing held in one claw. Then he swallowed. "Oh. I would this had been discussed last night."

"Please!" blurted Penny, suddenly. She raised her head, looking from the king to Nyyrik. "Please, we'll do anything. We need to put the staff back together to save Equestria, because… because… Ch-Chip said it best. Whether we get the staff or not, the dr-dragon that is also after it will raise an army just by promising it to her packs of diamond dogs. She d-doesn't need the staff, but we do. We have to rescue our friends, they're still out there! We have to rescue them, then get the staff and then… and then… make sure she can never have it."

"What will you do with it?" asked Nyyrik, pointedly.

"I… we don't know." Penny's ears drooped.

"Foolishness!" snorted Lord Taran, exchanging glances with other like-minded nobles around the table. "Lies and foolishness."

"Foolishness maybe," said Nyyrik, "but the mare speaks the truth. She knows not what she would do with the artifact, but she earnestly believes that her only course of action is to seek it out. But I cannot let untrained children… I cannot let you, my king, give untrained children such an object. It would be folly most high."

"Hah!" crowed Lord Taran.

"...Which is why we will train them, first," said Nyyrik, as Taran choked on his own bluster. "My lord, your highness, whilst the Iceveldt is scoured for signs of their companions, we must train these four who are here. I will take the unicorn and the warrior-mage. I will take them to Urash and Galadra. Taran, you will be responsible—"

"I will do no such thing." Taran spat.

"I will then, your highness," said Captain Wrynn, stepping forwards, avoiding Taran's icy glare. "I have seen their… nascent prowess first claw. I will train them, and when they are ready I will present them to the Sword, the Fist and the Shield, and to you, my king."

Varden gazed regally around the table, nodding. Finally, he leaned back in his chair and gestured with a free claw. "So be it. The king has spoken. Wrynn, you will send out such search parties as you see fit. Alert the wings. Nyyrik, take them all to the kitchens, see they are fed, then begin their training. You are all dismissed."

♠♣♥

Author's Note:

Ah, this one was so much trouble! When you're writing an interminably long slog through snow and ice, make sure you know where in the group all your characters are. It's hair-tearingly annoying when you need it to flow properly from beginning to end!

Once again I have to thank my editors, the amazing Caliaponia, Ferret, even though ferret doesn't list my story under "awesome stories she helps edit" (cri erry tiem, so betray, much sad, very forgot, wow) and the indomitable Nyerguds (who needs to acknowledge that ghouls are crunchy on the outside and smooth on the inside, like daim bars).

Comments ( 79 )

It's listed on my blog though..;_;

NO! Ghouls are SQUISHY! S-Q-U-I-S-H-Y! :raritycry:

Anyway, loved this chapter! Don't like the look of those horsefolk though... they smell too fae for my likings.

4202910 that art mate.

4202910 Ghouls are pre-tenderized for hugging, not squishy.

But this was done well in a feudal checkmate of types.

Though why the choice of two tarot suites? Sorry, three. I forget the sword is one.

4203406
Hehe. The picture (and the whole 'squishy ghoul' thing in general :rainbowwild:) is a joke about one of my fics; a Fallout: Equestria side story where the main character is a ghoul. The picture is in fact a role reversal; one of the main running gags in the story is the fact the mare is attracted to the ghoul, while he is thoroughly weirded out by that :rainbowlaugh:

4203455
They're squishy hugs :rainbowwild:

Now dammit people, comment on Middy's chapter! :fluttershysad:

4203474 I did, but I can't blame the ghoul pic is drop dead amazing.

4202438
*Adjusts tie* Quite so

Such a awesome chapter! Also taran reminds me of blueblood somehow >.>

Taran... There's a name I've not read in a while. I like the Prydanian better than the Gryphon, though.

The plot is thickening, which is good, because thicker brother makes for a more delectable stew (IMHO).

Griffin mountain knight training montage?

Griffin mountain knight training montage. :moustache:

thanks for the update :twilightsmile:

4203455
Sword, Shield and Fist (or Claw) are the king's, queen's and state's army (respectively). Wand is head of the mages. Between the three armies and him lies the warrior-mages of the paladins. They are headed by the Stave in a separate order, but Stave wasn't at the meeting. You'll find out why later :-)

We're also missing the three healers, and their representative the Cup.

The only missing part of the arcana is the Circle (pentacle or coin), and that's because Nyyrik refuses to be it :-)

4204883 So then does each icon then represent equal authority under the king/queen? and again, with tarot choices when you mention the arcana.

4204948
Yes and no. It's part of their checks and balances. The three armies carry equal weight, but cannot be the only voices of authority. This is when Wand, Stave or Cup steps in to provide special information or another viewpoint.

The idea is that the will of the king's subjects and the queen aren't ignored over the king's voice himself.

4204982 is it setup to be that you always have someone acting, even if its against an idea, instead of leading to a stagnation if one group does not agree or abstains?

4205438
Well it's a monarchy, not a democracy, but it's as close to a democratic monarchy as can be. The king is the ultimate voice, but a king cannot rule without consent of the governed. It's why "the people's army" (the fist army) exists - they aren't directly under the power of the king (neither is the shield army), but both shield and fist pledge themselves to defense of the crown. If necessary, that means removal of the head underneath it.

Right now, the king is the ruler, but that doesn't change the names of the armies. If the queen were the ruler, her army would still be the shield, but hers would then by the foremost army in the land.

It probably goes without saying that Nyyrik's magic is a bit different than most mages. I'll get into how and why later.

If you're interested, mages are "wands" because pure magic - offensive or not - is not so physical in nature. Paladins, on the other claw, in this world, are battle mages. Their icon is the staff or stave, both a weapon and a symbol of magical power. The griffons have a god as well as gods, but their multiple religions are complementary to each other, and the paladins follow several of them.

The cup-bearers - the healers - symbols are apothecary in nature. You haven't seen them yet, but there are three healers. The grand healer is the cup, his three adjutants are the snake, the herb and the medicine pouch. The dosage makes the poison, as they say, and unlike some stories, the snake is not going to be a moustache-twirling villain :rainbowlaugh:

4206116 given the staff of the medical profession and the nature of what venom can do, weal or woe. That is very much a misconception many could make. But snakes are neither evil or good, merely what they are, a potent force of potential.

As for the cup, that makes sense, a cup may contain plenty, or famine respectively. It is all in the nature of its holder. As for those under the cup, each again makes sense, in both a spiritual, and physical sense of lore.

Wisdom to use the herb right, for too much can be as wrong as too little, the means to give such, and the origin of such perhaps. But yes, the nature of is fits to them. As for how they mingle, i can see them off all three, in harmony, but also a likened dissonance.

Things are getting a bit jumbled and,VERY rushed, May I suggest some revision, as well as stretching the last couple of chapters over several new ones, I've noticed that your writing lately has become a bit....forced, and has suffered as a result. Things just seem to be lining up TO neatly and convincingly, and your shoving a lot of material in a small space, there is also some places were I kind of went "huh?"
Don't trip over yourself for the sake of the deadline.
Ps. Make sure not to lose the interpersonal interactions between the group, I would suggest more moments of affection between carbine and chip, their relationship seems a bit stale at times, but then spikes, such as carbine talking about marrying him, if I interpreted that correctly.

4206198
Hmm, jumbled and rushed? I hope that's because of the nature of the flight through the iceveldt... :fluttercry:

There is no real deadline, and I'm sorry if it's sounding forced. I'll try to avoid that. I'm also working on their relationships... though for a while they're going to be spending some time apart :trollestia:

4206198
Weird, I feel quite the opposite. Some of previous chapters might seemed a bit confusing, because if time jumps, but the symbols at pagebreakers helped a lot. Last few chapters seem a lot clearer yo me, whole trip trough snowstorm with those monsters following them was a bit unclear and chaotic, but it made it feel a bit better, Scared buch of kids, while blizzard and with lost two friend, if it was really clear it would seem fake, and as it is here, it feels naturall and makes it easier to understand them.

It is the problem makers of movie adaptations for Tolkien's books had. his books were writen in style fitting whole situation, In Hobbit, when they were lost in forest, and EXTREAMLY hungry, whole chapter was confusing, chaotic, it made you feel lost like them, while battle, everything was past paced, and when they were resting it all semed calm and slow. Similar situations happened in other books, movie producers had to remove and change/replace those scenes, because such thing is impossible to make in movie, if you make scene congusing, it looks like director did something wrong, and it would cause less people to go to cinema.

4203474 CHAPTER IS GREAT NEEDS MORE CHIP

4206934
Just goes to show I've got to do what I've been doing, can't please everyone.

One thing to remember is that now they finally know where they're going - more or less - so things are going to fall in to place. Kind of. :pinkiehappy:

Very interesting organization for the gryphons. Speaking of which, is this the gryphon kingdom or just one of several?

And actual training for the kids? Good plan, though I have to wonder how much time they have to spare for it considering the forces that are hunting them. I suppose it's possible that this gryphon kingdom is secure enough that they can take all the time they might need.

4206198 Could you perhaps give some specific examples of where you feel it's getting more rushed or fitting too conventiently? I'm curious :twilightsheepish:

4207885
This is a gryphon kingdom, there are several sprinkled throughout greater Equestria, but none inside Equestria proper (after all, Equestria is a diarchy itself).

The Tacksworn Protectorate inside Equestria (albeit somewhat past the outskirts of normal Equestria) is too small and minor to be a kingdom, it's a loose afiliation of clans instead.

I have to wonder how much time they have to spare for it considering the forces that are hunting them.

They have some time to play with. The Wintry Kingdom is very remote, and it's also very well defended by gryphons well-versed in the art of war. However, this is more a question of putting the youngsters through their paces than the years-long training it would normally be.

King Varden - acting on Nyyrik's advice - wishes to ascertain whether the would-be adventurers are worthy of the task of taking up the staff. Varden figures they have time, as any potential full-frontal assault would fail, and any sneak-attack would fall victim to the superior senses of his people.

Mmm. Delicious, delicious worldbuilding.
derpicdn.net/img/view/2013/11/24/479927__safe_solo_pinkie+pie_animated_solo+female_saliva_spoiler-colon-s04e01_princess+twilight+sparkle+-dash-+part+1_creamy+creamy+frosting.gif
Ahem. In any case, some scattered thoughts:

Griffons continue to be awesome, both in magic and in combat. The latter comes as no surprise, but seeing what an experienced griffon mage can do with the former is still a treat.

I'm very concerned for Chip. My imagination is offering a number of possible horrible fates for him.
Ruff, meanwhile, appears to be channeling the essence of Minecraft. Alone in the wilderness? Punch some trees and get to building!

I really want to know what's up with the griffon queen getting a list of previous encounters by licking a unicorn horn.

"Thaumamancy"? The magic of magic itself? Oh my. That's... that's very big. That's bigger than I realized at the time. That's magical/scientific revolution big.

Looking at the comments, I can't help but smile at the tarot motif of the griffon court. Card suits aren't just limited to spades and so forth.

Loved this chapter. Reminded me of the better parts of A Song of Ice and Fire in terms of the wintry landscape, awesome personalities, and nobles that do something. I'm looking forward to more... so long as you don't spend six years writing a chapter where you kill everyone the fandom likes. :raritywink:

Griffons continue to be awesome, both in magic and in combat. The latter comes as no surprise, but seeing what an experienced griffon mage can do with the former is still a treat.

Yeah, Nyyrik is pretty good at what he does. Namely drinking, bedding wenches and drinking. He's also good at magic, I guess.

I'm very concerned for Chip. My imagination is offering a number of possible horrible fates for him.

Whaaattt, why does everybody think the strange, mysterious helpful horse is evil? :trollestia:

Ruff, meanwhile, appears to be channeling the essence of Minecraft. Alone in the wilderness? Punch some trees and get to building!

If they don't get to him quick, he'll have built an entire replacement Wintry Kingdom. And then dug for all the diamonds. And he'd be a king. of diamonds. BOOM baby. Been waiting the entire story to make that joke. Honest.

I'm looking forward to more... so long as you don't spend six years writing a chapter where you kill everyone the fandom likes.

Oh don't give me ideas... :moustache:

Well I have to say, even if most of the references to "Tarot" and "Arcana" sail clear over my head, I am really digging the world building. Always have been a sucker for fictional governments and their inner workings, and this chapter definitely delivers on that front!

As tired and cliched as the Bavarian Fire Drill has become, its actually kind of refreshing to see Beth's attempt at pulling this off fall flat (due in no small part to the fact that the intended dupe was himself too blustery to be fooled) and even more refreshing to see the gryphons swayed over to the hero's cause, not through shenanigans or some sappy speech "from the heart", but by logically examining the evidence and the opinions of their peers. In other words, its refreshing to see the northern gryphons act like actual people and not a bunch of cardboard cutouts. So yay for that!

Yeah its pretty clear those "horses" encountered by Chip are Fae, but if nothing else their current tactics show that they cannot yet strike at Chip directly, key word being yet. So at least the kid has a little more time for the rest of the crew to complete their training. Once again, can't wait the next chapter!

4218116
Yeah, Bethany didn't even bother going for the Bavarian fire drill. They all knew it wouldn't work. You don't try to lie to a king like Varden. It's actually good they didn't, he's got a nose for such things and could tell precisely when they weren't telling the whole truth. It comes with being part eagle :twilightsheepish:

And I believe you'll like what I'm cooking up with Chip and the totally innocent horses.

Im glad I fnally managed to catch up with this thing, at.. lets see, 4 am. Oh good, better than 6 am yesterday. :pinkiegasp:

Really nice collection of detail on the Griffons here, given the general perception of honor based militeristic, given the Eagle and Lion bases.

Innocent horses? In the Iceveldt? that have the style of Blueblood and the mane style of Celestia? OK. :rainbowderp:

A slight problem with the airship. When we first saw it, you said it had large windows made of very thick diamond sheet. Then you add metal shielding over them for protection. Id love to know what kind of metal sheet would be more capable than a thicker sheet of diamond. During the crash you said glass, and was glad they had broken in order to allow the toxic gasses from teh fires out. Hopefully blow out vent covers, replaceable, couldve taken their places.

I notice that you also follow the line of magic manipulation that utelises runes, the same way electronics uses wiring. Am I the only person who uses the waveguide equivalent of virtual runes. That is, the effect that would be runes that would exist if you took the form written on a page, then removed all the page that wasnt a rune. This also means that non runes cant burn out, because they dont exist. This also means that non runes can be made out of void in reality, without breaking reality except in the way you want it to. The big problem I discovered though is, if you have no runes, how do you have a limitation of power?

Then I discovered what the correction function was that allows you to use recursion.

Then I found out a couple more possible tricks, and things got out of hand. :facehoof:

Does your game have any pieces that Nobody wants? :trollestia:

4225086
Ah, glad you're enjoying it! It's a long slog to do something like this, but I'm getting there!

A slight problem with the airship. When we first saw it, you said it had large windows made of very thick diamond sheet. Then you add metal shielding over them for protection. Id love to know what kind of metal sheet would be more capable than a thicker sheet of diamond. During the crash you said glass, and was glad they had broken in order to allow the toxic gasses from teh fires out.

Well drat. That's the sort of thing I need to weed out... if I said they're diamond then they're diamond, but they still shattered :twilightsheepish: They may have covers, but the kids didn't activate them in the brouhaha at least, and they did break...

the effect that would be runes that would exist if you took the form written on a page, then removed all the page that wasnt a rune. This also means that non runes cant burn out, because they dont exist.

Well I have it like this: in a magical world, form is function, and thought is form. Magic-users like unicorns hold most of their magical-manipulation forms in their heads and express it through their horns. Earth ponies and pegasi use their hooves and wings respectively, but the magic is still in their heads. Dragons are innately magical in a way ponies aren't, and their ability to control and manipulate magical power is a part of their physical being - their fire is magical, not chemical, in most cases. Diamond dogs are the same way in that their magic is intrinsic to their being, but expressed through physical touch (or at least a connection). Griffons, on the other claw, whilst possessing similar magic to pegasi inside Equestria, have their own runic system where their thoughts shape the magic by drawing specific runes on things they wish to enchant. The runes themselves aren't enough to be truly magical, but drawing them with intent is. It's fundamentally different to pony, dragon and troll magic, however, as it utilizes forces external to the beings in question.

Where do those forces come from? Well, you'd have to ask Nyyrik. He's got a few thoughts on the matter... :twilightsmile:

4225882

I thank you for the reply, and the detail you have been putting in to how things work in your version.

I think the best equivalent in your story would be the Bevelmeiter Tubes, seeing as with the conductive core, insulating tube outer, and energy flow control circutry, it looks remarkably similar to MITs plasma thruster with microwave power phase emmiter circuitry. Of course, the Bevelmeiter Tubes ae also self powering through the equivalent of Casimir or Zero Point energy, the second of which can be got from ice and the first takes some real fun, but weirder thing happen.

Queztalcoatl knew Chip was to face the Pooka, Pooka feed ? on fear. Dragons dont fear? Also, what if Chip uses his BM tubes for more than just flight, or would that require him to inscribe a whole new set of runes, or could he flame up a set of temporary control runes, and give Mrs Dragon a bad time? :pinkiecrazy:

4226818
Well the Bevelmiter tubes do work on the Equestrian version of zero point energy - they interface with the underlying meta-magical reality and act as free-form quintessence actuators. They are the generators that not only power his wings, but act as part of the interface between him and them. They are "tuned" to his morphic field, and won't work for anybody else, the runes help focus and guide that power so that Chip can use the power coming from them much as a unicorn would.

Yes, there's an implication there or two I'm not going to talk about, I'll see if anybody asks the question...

Chip could indeed repurpose those generators and use them for something else, that would mean building a whole new runic grid for them to sit in and act upon.

4226969

In other words, youve just described what I was working on at university as an intresting problem, the manipulation of dynamic energy fields without the use of matter. The trick I discovered was, you design in programmable logic, so that the energy fields manipulate themselves in the details, relative to the overall directions you supply. Call it fly by wireless. :twilightoops:

I wonder, are you implying the bidirectional nature of the field fluctuation flows, or the broadcastable trancieving nature of such flows?

What level of thaumaturgy understanding would be needed here to be able to create variable runic magic program code?

Sorry bout this, so far it seems Ive been workign on something that exists nowhere else in its entirity, and I dnt want to corrupt or annoy such creators. :pinkiesad2:

You should see my meadaevil low nuke. And I dont mean metal or magic based. :twilightoops:

4227062
I think something that advanced is well beyond Chip and co. - some magic seems to be self-organizing in the same way that some arrangements of matter is. Unsurprising really, but I couldn't tell you what it means.

The devices Chip uses both receive and send, they're point-charges in whatever the magical equivalent of the dirac sea is, and their localized disturbances cause power to flow. Still, they're pretty crude in a way as it's the runes that dictate how that power flows...

4227584

Something that advanced might be beyond the kids, but that just means BM as UBOS, Quentin, and Agents on Holiday get to have so much fun. :pinkiecrazy:

I wouldve liked to have offered Queztalcoatl a gift of The Pony Crystal, except someones used the item in a story elsewhere, but I think they didnt realise what it was really meant to imply.

I call it a Penrose Void, but have no idea what its true and proper name actually is.

What Id really like Chip to be able to do, is when attacked by Changlings next time, is to use the Unicorn, Dragon, BM combo, and cause a really bad case of positive discordant feedback. Into the hive. :trollestia:

What are the name of the wolverine-like mustelid beasts the Wintry Kingdom has in their castle to scavenge scraps? Do they have a species name?
Also, Ruff going full Diamond Dog on a caribou, awesome.

1.bp.blogspot.com/_Nq1sXfG9ndc/TDUJg6TeOlI/AAAAAAAABTc/5afngt4Bdkk/s1600/Wolf+Caribou+Road+blog.jpg

The Iceveldt is a dangerous, yet beautiful place. Like Alaska with somehow MORE ornery wildlife.

4234324
They're actual (somewhat feral) wolvars, though you can think of them as badass wolverines (as if wolverines needed to be any more badass) because they're not quite wolverines and they're definitely not the sentient wolvars of (for example) world of warcraft. Even rockbears - degenerate ursa - think twice before bothering a pack of them.

4236573

Because wolvars, much like baseline wolverines and honey badgers, give no shits.

I really enjoy this chapter. Nice Job.:pinkiehappy:

Dammit, Chip! You have to see the puppies and the candy before you follow the stranger!!

Nice chapter, Middy. Ruff going all Dog vs Wild was cool. Just wish I could have edited it for you... :fluttercry:

I love how the 37th wing taunts Nyyrik even as they show their respect for him.

I read to current end, waited some time to calm down (strong emotions interfere too much and cause rhyming, sorry about the last time), and that's what I have to say:

1) That was really good. Can't wait for next chapter!
2) There's some strange things, like how can changeling brainwashing overpower dragon control, but I think it will be explained later.
3) I hope Chip's brains will return from their vacation back to his scull soon, or he will die and become another pooka. It will be a shame to end such epic quest such stupidly.
4) How long it will be for the ones in the griffon castle to be "properly trained"? Do they have several years to spend for training?..
5) This Sword guy, Taran - you named him such on purpose? In russian "taran" means "battering ram".

"Taking a few short leaps, he scooped up more fresh, clean snow directly into his muzzle and, shuddering and drawing another deep breath against the sudden bite of the icy material, chewed and swallowed. Cold, but serviceable."

Just to make a note for those that think you can actually do this. You can't eat snow as a source of water. The energy required to heat the snow and make it usable water is more than the energy given from the resultant water. Drinking snow will dehydrate you, burn up your energy reserves and possibly cause hypothermia and kill you. All snow MUST be boiled or melted by other means before drinking. You will also be short on minerals and salts which are not found in snowmelt.

http://survivor-magazine.com/tag/dehydration/ for more information

4496087
Ah! You've actually caught me in the rare act of writing one thing and meaning another... and goodness but I hope nobody is expecting my story is a valid episode of dog vs wild.

What I meant was that Ruff - once up and about - could go find water. The snow was just to wash his mouth out from sleeping! I didn't even think about it and managed to completely skip the whole thing! I was going by what my dog does in the snow, which is to snap up muzzle-fulls of snow when dashing about, but to drink from a fresh supply when actually wanting to quench thirst. :twilightsmile:

4500955 Ah right. That makes more sense now. Also, since I have this opportunity, I just wanted to say that this series has been really great. Some fantastic writing throughout, and some great world building. It's one of my top series out of all the fanfiction I've read.

4500955 Is the story dead? Or are we getting some fresh chapters at some point?

I've been avoiding reading this one just to see it finished first. I loved the original and I want to see some more!

-Chessie

4728387
A plethora of little issues conspired to cause a major logjam. No it's not dead, but don't hold your breath. It will all start up again this year, probably this quarter.

We're quite a ways from the finish, so if you read the first ten chapters or so, there's a good place to stop roughly half way when it gets to hearths warming... Otherwise you've got a while to wait...

I found "The Ambassador's Son" completely by accident. Let's just say that certain pony fan sites are blocked for reasons of censorship at public reading institutions, while their ".com" version is some how not blocked. Then add to that mix that this story was among those featured on the .com site.

So I just finished reading those last few chapters from my home network on this site. While I found many grammatical errors to be a minor annoyance, I also found that the work on a whole to be among the top Five Fan fictions that I have read thus far. The originality of the story line so surprised me. I can only say that this is how I see Equestria in my own head-cannon. It seems so more realistic and yet allows Actual cannon to be undisturbed. Well done, is all I can really say.

To say that I look forward to reading this continuation is an understatement. And I am glad that it has been my luck to have come to discover it so late in it's development, as it gives me much to read and enjoy yet still before me. I will be commenting again as I have yet to start this new book. So it is until then I bid you fare well, and keep up the excellent work. :trollestia:

Login or register to comment