Tales of an Equestrian Mare

by Durandal

Chapter 20

The caravan soon reached a huge cliff wall, which dominated the skyline for hours, a sandstone tan colour that rippled and shimmered in the heat waves thrown off by the baking sand.

“Are we going to have to make our way around?” Hearthfire inquired of Sandborne as it loomed ever closer. The caravan did not seem to be changing course to detour around the obstacle.

“No. There is a way through. The next town is on the far side.”

When they were close enough, and Sandborne had pointed out where to look, she too could make out the darker streak of a cleft in the rocks. Reaching it proved to be a blessing and a curse. With the sun past its zenith, they were in perpetual shade, a welcome respite from the day’s heat, but the narrow confines created all kinds of strange currents and unpredictable winds, blowing choking dust every which way. There was no chatter at all, even by the subdued standards of the caravaneers mid-march. Everyone had pulled their hoods low and donned scarves to shield from the salient grit.

The place where they camped for the night was a minor improvement. It was a hollow in the wall of the ravine, shielded from some of the worst gusts, and once the wagons had been removed into a loose line across the mouth, the air was almost calm, and it was possible to talk without inhaling a lungful of dirt.

With the day-to-day chores of setting up camp completed, and the big iron cauldron steaming merrily on the fire and throwing out mouth-watering aromas, the caravaneers gathered around. The day’s big event had been when one of the wagons had struck a rock, and a casket of dried fruit that had not been properly secured had been hurled free to spill across the ground, and the commiserations and light ribbing came thick and fast to the hapless pegasus who had lost a portion of his stock.

Hearthfire didn’t see who started it, possibly Cloud Kicker or Sand Whistler, but more likely Dima, but before long a good number of the group were heckling her for another story.

“Oh come on, how is that fair?” she complained, “It must be someone else’s turn now.”

“Not so fast, freeloader,” Dima taunted her, “We have travelled together for a long time, and we’ve heard all the of each other’s good tales enough times to be sick of them. But you still have plenty we’ve never heard before, hmm?”

Hearthfire rolled her eyes, but acquiesced, looking about for inspiration, something to help her pick her tale. Gathered her thoughts.

“Now, to my knowledge, there are seven Griffon nations. Some are allies, some are rivals, and which is which changes with the seasons and even the days. But for our story, we need only concern ourselves with the griffons that inhabit the city-state of Spire...”

* * *

The final approach to the Spire airstrip was a terrifying ordeal. The strip was carved directly into the mountainside, crafted from a naturally worn long, thin plateau that had been carefully levelled and constructed upon.

Hearthfire had taken Swift round on a flyby, communicating with the ground via flashed semaphore, and she was already regretting her decision to fly rather than abandoning Swift at the base of the mountains and coming up by hoof. The strip was significantly shorter than Swift was designed to handle, and she was forced to cut her airspeed as low as possible to compensate. As such, the control surfaces were far less responsive than she would have liked, and crosswinds buffeted Swift alarmingly.

The second she felt the bump as the landing gear hit the ground, she hauled on the brakes as hard as she dared, eyes fixed on the cut-off line where the strip terminated in a crash net followed by a thousand meter drop.

Swift squeeled to a halt with ten meters to spare, and Hearthfire and Cas relaxed their manic grips with sighs of relief.

“Remind me again why I thought this was a good idea?” Hearthfire muttered, as she eased the plane around to taxi away towards the strip’s waiting hangar. Cas, ever the expert at rhetorical questions, just stretched and padded over to the plane’s door, waiting expectantly. Back up the length of the strip, a hoof-full of ground crew could be seen over towards the cluster of low buildings, standing down as they confirmed that she had landed safely.

There were a surprising number of aircraft in and around the strip, in a wide variety of types and configurations. The strip was primarily built for heavier-than-air craft, with the many zeppelins, blimps, and balloons that frequented the city being serviced by smaller, dedicated moorings and cargo drops, but there was one small dirigible straining at its ropes as crates and barrels were extracted from its belly. There was a ten-long row of diverse planes along the inner side of the airfield, displaying a wide range of form, function and design philosophy: boxy bi- and tri-planes, the latter of which Hearthfire knew to boast incredible maneuverability, if not much in the way of top speed; enclosed cockpit mono-planes such as her own, built to with the storage space and fuel efficiency to withstand long-haul flights; and strange flapping, hoof-powered mechanical designs that surely could not serve a useful purpose and were little more than glorified gliders.

And, glimpsed through a partially-open hangar door, the rarest of an aviation aficionado’s spotting-list, an immense cargo plane. The twenty-meter long behemoths of the heavier-than-air world hauled large cargoes across long distances at many times the speed of a conventional zeppelin. In addition to their powerful twin engines, it took two highly trained unicorns to get one into the air, applying magic both in providing additional kick to the engines and operating the complicated flight systems that regulated the lumbering machines passage through the sky. Hearthfire had seen planes on similar lines before, though they were an uncommon sight the world over, due to the high cost of running them and the high skill required of their pilots. They tended to be reserved for extremely high priority, bulk cargos.

She let a member of the ground crew signal her into line beside the other light aircraft, and quickly went through her engine shutdown checklist. A bi-plane coughed into life in the line as she was arriving, and she waved a friendly hoof to the pilot as they passed each other.

“Everything all right?” Hearthfire asked the ground-crew griffon as she hopped down from the cockpit behind Cas. The griffon was a... hen? A Lioness? What the hay is the proper term for a female griffon?

“Sure thing! Welcome to Spire. Well, really I shouldn’t be saying that before you clear customs, but there won’t be any problems, right?” They shook, claw to hoof, after the griffon had absent mindedly wiped her hoof on her overalls. It left an oily smear on the tough fabric that Hearthfire recognised from her own mechanical work.

“Shouldn’t be. I’ve not got much more than my gear on board.”

“You’ll need to fill out some extra paperwork for the cat.”

“Huh? Is Cas going to be a problem?”

“Just customs being customs,” the griffon shrugged, “There’s all kinds of regulations on live animal imports. I shouldn’t worry too much about it if I were you.”

“All right. I’ll try to keep an open mind. So, where do I have to go?”

“Here, I’ll finish this up and then show you. Hang on a minute.”

Hearthfire tried her best not to pry as the griffon went back to her maintenance, up to her shoulder in the fuselage.

“Would you like a helping hoof?”

“Nah, I’m good. All done,” she said, straightening up. “You a mechanic, then?”

Hearthfire jerked a hoof towards Swift. “I built her. My own design.”

“Not bad. Don’t see many ponies in aeronautics. Come on, I’ll take you over to the office.”

* * *

Dealing with customs took an hour. The griffon official was very friendly and helpful, but there was still a lot of paperwork to be done. Hearthfire learned that the air strip was a much sought after post for the Spire’s customs officers, what with its low traffic and only a bare minimum of large-volume shipments.

“Most of the difficult work goes on at the city walls. Almost all the goods that come across the mountains have to pass through Spire’s gates. Honestly, it’s a surprise if I have to deal with three people in one day, here.”

“It seems like a lot of effort has gone into building this place, for such infrequent use.”

“Heavier-than-air flight may be in its infancy, but it’s something of a source of civic pride to know that we can deal with anything that comes through, whether it’s on the ground or in the air. For that, you at least need a landing strip.”

The griffon finished scrawling his initial on the last page of the document, and pushed it across the desk.

“Read, and then sign or hoofprint, please. Here, here, here...”

There was a wealth of regulation. Forms detailing city laws and ordinances, import taxes - fortunately nothing she had brought with her qualified - identification documents...

“Here’s the affidavit stating that your cat is a personal companion animal and not being transported for sale. Here’s your statement that she’s disease-free. Sign or hoofprint, please.”

Finally, it was all done, and Hearthfire was feeling exhausted. The griffon, on the other hand, seemed as fresh and cheerful as he’d been at the start. Maybe he just enjoyed paperwork...?

“Wow-ee,” she said, leaning back in her chair with a sigh. “Spire takes this sort of thing seriously, doesn’t it?”

“It must seem very authoritarian to someone used to the Equestrian way of doing things, but we have problems that Equestria has never really needed to deal with. With our position, sat in the middle of such a large transport route, we see all sorts here. Over the years, it’s paid to be careful about what we allow in, out, and through.”

“Well, it’s certainly tired me out. Please tell me we’re finished.”

“We’re finished. Welcome to Spire, Ms. Hearthfire. You’re free to enter the city whenever you’re ready.”

“Oh, praise sweet Celestia! A-hah-ha, I mean,” she bobbed her head apologetically at the sight of the griffon’s slightly affronted look, “Thank you for your time.”

“My pleasure. Enjoy your stay.”

* * *

“Phew! I thought I was going to suffocate in there, Cas, how about you?”

The customs check had included a brief photo shoot with an ancient looking tripod camera in a side room off the main customs office, and Hearthfire was now carrying two bundles of identification papers, each including a grainy black and white photograph, one for herself and one for Cas. She had been assured that visitors were mostly permitted to go where they pleased, and she would only need to produce the papers if a guard had a particular reason to suspect she was up to no good, but she slipped them in near the top of her pack, just to be on the safe side.

Now that she was walking its streets, Spire was just as incredible as it had first seemed when seen from above. The entire city perched precariously on the mountainside, nestled in a wide flat-ish expanse where the slope of two peaks met and joined, covering the entirety of the plateau and much of the slopes to either side. The centre of the city was relatively normal, but as one reached the outer edges, ordinary streets gave way to heavily inclined, mercilessly zig-zagging routes that tortuously ascended the steep gradient. The design of much of the city was heavily gothic, sombre grey stone and imposing, blocky lines that soared intimidatingly upwards; in fact, given the intense premium of square land area in the city, Hearthfire was almost prepared to believe that the city was taller than it was wide. The architecture did not so much rise, as loom.

In contrast to the slightly grim, if very impressive, architecture, the bustling streets were a wash of colour. The main thoroughfares seemed to be in a state of constant gridlock, with two barely-moving streams of traffic passing each other on the constricted central boulevard. The city was constructed around three major parallel routes, connecting six gates that faced each other across the city. Traders who were simply passing through on their way to other destinations were encouraged to enter at one of the three gates on their approach to the city, cross using the corresponding road, and exit as quickly and orderly as possible on the far side.

From that triple hub of constant flow, smaller cross-streets permeated through to the other sections of the city, connecting to the static trade quarters, the moorings that served as the city’s zeppelin air links, the administrative district, and everything else that kept the city functioning.

Here and there, on lines running at right angles to the through-routes, the rows of immense columns marched across the metropolis. They rose higher than almost every other construction in the city, and supported vast arched viaducts, that connected the north and south mountain faces. Space being as valuable as it was, the columns were constructed to double as housing, and pedestrian stairwells rose through their cores, allowing one to travel from the base of the city to one of the upper wings without traversing the congested ground-level streets. The viaducts were a true symbol of Spire’s policy of welcoming everyone with welcome arms: if the city was insular, and reserved only for its winged native griffon citizens, there would be no need for artificial constructs to link the outer sections. Truly, the city-state of Spire was one of the gems of the developed world, and the memories one could forge on even a brief trip could last a lifetime.

Hearthfire closed the guidebook with a snap.

“All right. Let’s see where our legs take us, eh?”

She followed the main street for a way, worming her way between the pressed mass of pedestrians. It seemed that every imaginable race and species was currently jostling her in an attempt to claim the piece of pavement she was currently occupying. She was bumped into by buffalo, trampled by tapir, crushed by camels... Minotaurs. Zebra. Unicorns. Earth ponies. Donkeys. Up and down the street, peddlers barged through, trying to flog their wares to passers by and those pulling or escorting the wagons, useless nicknacks, sweet snacks, clothes, jewelery. Cas was quickly forced up off the ground, for fear of being kicked or stepped on, and watched the passing whirl from the safety of Hearthfire’s head, eyes darting every which way as she found new things to examine.

As much as Hearthfire normally enjoyed hustle and bustle, it soon became too much even for her. She was forced to dive into a side street, away from the worst of the mob. The difference was like night and day - the streets were by no means deserted, but there was usually room enough to do a little twirl if the fancy had taken her, and more of those who passed her in either direction looked like they had a specific purpose in mind.

“I reckon,” Hearthfire explained to Cas, her eye drifting up, to the one feature that most dominated the skyline, “We should climb up one of those pillars. There’ll be an amazing view. I want a proper look from the air without having to fight to keep Swift steady in the crosswind all the time.”

Comments

[Durandal]

Bigger update today because I was travelling yesterday and could only write in my notepad with a pen like an animal. Only managed 700 words, putting me even more behind again, woo! Still, got almost 2,000 done today. I'm at that tantalising bit where I'm almost ready to just blitz the rest of the 50,000 in a couple of days, which is what I usually do with my NaNoWriMo novels. Maybe I'll do some 5,000 word days over the weekend and win on Monday. Haha, not likely, but a man can dream, right?

I'm not going be nearly finished at 50k, of course, but I'll be super happy if I can finish the third section by that point. Then another 10-15k for the final section and some miscellaneous amount for the epilogue.

...This is practically a blog post. Maybe I'll start one of those someday.

PS. Today I realised that the Whinnycia section had like a chapter heading thingy, it was in italics and everything, but none of the others is going to get one unless I can come up with something good. Sucks to be them.

PPS. Thank you, everyone still reading my fic.