Knight of Equestria III: Pizzicato and Changelings

by scifipony

Pas de Deux

The shapeshifter wore the visage of a red roan stallion with black points wearing the unarmored red parade uniform of a royal guard. He bore down on me with clenched teeth, aiming steel-shod hooves at my exposed stomach.

I flexed my rear legs. Hooves met hooves with a resounding bang.

The clattering concussion rattled my teeth. With a grunt, I shoved him away, sending my forequarters forward as I slid past the eaves. I tumbled off the roof, flared my wings, and gave chase. I had to knock the ginger-maned creature from the sky before he revealed my ruse to his fellows.

I now stank of cloves. I'd broken the bottle in the saddlebags.

The faux-pegasus streaked back at me, hooves foremost, yelling, "You'll pay for those mares!"

He spoke properly accented Equestrian!

I didn't change my course.

If you fly, instinct makes you protect one part of your anatomy over any other: I curved through the air as the buildings whizzed by beside us, causing us to spiral and weave around each other in the air a pony-length above the street... until I maneuvered him between me and an on-rushing building with a long balcony that allowed me to pen him in on four sides, then banked at his wings.

He spooked, dodged, and banged against a brick wall, then the bottom of the balcony. He lost control, nearly crashing to the ground on a cross-street lined with townhouse mansions. He got his hooves under him, though, his screeching horseshoes throwing a cascade of sparks. I dived in hot behind him—

But flared my wings in time to prevent clobbering him in the flank: He smelled of sweaty horse! Not the spices evocative of Hearthswarming eve.

"Who are you?" I asked.

"Creature!" he screamed, aiming a buck at my face.

I dodged into the air and he jumped after me.

I fluttered away from boxing forehooves. "Hey, I'm a pony!"

"Sure you are! I saw you lead your fellows to those mares!"

"I did, to save other ponies."

"You even smell like them." He struck me on the ribs. Something went crack.

"Ugh! That's because I bathed in supplies from a bakery!"

I dodged right, then left, flying backwards, then kicked with my rear hooves. When he dodged, I reached back into my saddle bags and caught the licorice bottle with my lips and flung it at him.

Oops! I hit him square in the forehead with a clear thunk. The bottle shattered.

"Ow!" he yelled, veering wildly, the alcoholic mixture dripping across his face and spiked mane.

He was a royal guard. I did hope he didn't have glass in his eyes, but I wasn't going to let him pummel me or give us up. I took advantage of his disorientation and got two hooves on his chest. I shoved him hard.

He recovered midair, but I got around him and bucked at his hip. I was no fighter, so he was lucky I barely connected. He went spinning away toward the ground.

"I'm a pony! I've been sending ponies to hide all over—"

"You are going to pay!"

"You're mental!"

He would beat me to a pulp if I gave him a chance, so I took my opening. I got over him, banked my wings, and slammed like a wrestler down atop him. I could have broken both his wings, but I folded my legs around his body, flared to slow us down as his wings beat against mine, and threw him into the ground as I let go. I glided up and away. His legs folded as he slid face-forward, neck out, down the pavement, the air knocked out of him with a loud woof. I flapped in place in front of him.

"Am I going to have to kick your sorry flank?" I asked.

He lay there pretty much flank-kicked already. He cringed as I looked down into his molten amber eyes. I think he expected me to vomit green goo over him, but instead I asked, "Really? Bloody Tartarus! Where do you think a shapeshifter would have learned to imitate a Trottingham accent? I mean, come on, mate!" I landed.

He looked up. "You're DJ FM."

"Good lad," I said.

"I caught your late show at the Grand Baltameria when I was on leave last month," he chattered, probably punch drunk from hitting his head. "My friends really liked you..." He trailed off and moaned.

I pulled the wobbly stallion up and got him to limp below a stone staircase to a brownstone townhouse. I scanned the sky and asked, "Who might you be?"

"Lieutenant Riverdale."

I saw a silver bar insignia on his shoulder. "Are there others fighting the shapeshifters, or is it just us?"

"I hope there's others, but there's too many to fight."

"Not if you smell like them—"

He snorted. The thick scent of licorice oil nigh beat my nostrils bloody.

"—and join them as if you belong."

"That's— I couldn't order somepony to do that!"

"Think of Equestria ruled by them, or your foals eaten by them."

He gulped and pursed his lips. "How can you think such thoughts—?" He reached up suddenly and clamped two hooves over my right upper lip. He held as I startled back. "You're bleeding."

Right—the cracked bottle of clove oil when I reached for the bottle of licorice. I shrugged out of the damp stained saddlebags, keeping them upright so not to spill more of the contents.

I said—muffled, him still holding my lip—"You go find your troops and have them bathe in this, then tell them to screw their courage to the sticking place. I have to go save more ponies."

"Stay here. You're a civilian."

"No, I am a citizen. I chose to be naturalized as an Equestrian. I swore allegiance to the princesses, my liege—"

"I'm going with you."

I swatted away his hooves. "With a broken leg?"

"Broken or sprained, I don't need it to fly—"

"Take the saddlebags!" I ordered and moved to peer into the sky.

Nopony.

I leapt upward, him stupidly behind me. The stallion had longer, stronger wings. A cracked rib sure does hurt when you flap hard, which slowed me.

As he flew beside me, I said, "Keep focused on me if you feel they're spooking you. If you see ponies, click your horseshoes and I'll herd them in the direction you're flying in. If they spot ponies, act like you see more ponies even closer. Act frantic," I finished, spotting a flight closing on Lower Canterlot, north of the train station, and banked to join them.

A pink-maned yellow-furred pegasus led the marauders, and looked very much like Twilight Sparkle's friend Fluttershy. We merged with the buzzing horde with little more than a nod between me and the shapeshifter in the lead.

I ignored Riverdale and floated to the fore, scanning the town below. The vast majority of Canterlot ponies had done the right thing, hiding indoors, but not everypony. It begged the question of what the shapeshifters would do once they'd secured the town.

One problem at a time!

I'd figure something out—if I lived that long.

We weren't flying together for half a minute when ponies hiding in the train station rushed the railcars. I could still hear the locomotive chugging, awaiting a departure forestalled by the crisis. The flight banked sharply.

I tried zooming ahead and heading for a row of houses, which incidentally had a pink and lime green pony flitting between buildings, but, despite my pointing and acrobatics, the tasty treat that they'd spotted proved too delicious looking. I found myself completely ignored.

I peeled away from the group, only to be pushed aside by the licorice backwash of a swiftly flying Riverdale, arrowing down behind the group.

I hovered a moment, shocked, then whispered, "Oh, bloody Tartarus." I dived behind him, wanting to yell at the idiot but hopeful I could still keep our secret.

The shapeshifters encircled the poor pastel ponies in party clothes who were stuck on the siding. The monsters hissed like snakes as they prevented a dozen prey from running past them. Riverdale landed beside the leader. As he turned to buck the yellow mare, she transformed in a sheet of green magic into one of the identical shapeshifter insect ponies.

I tackled Riverdale. My impetus carried us tumbling across the noisy gravel into a couple of captured purple mares in dresses. They shied and banged into five stallions in the wispy stretch lounge-suits the cognoscenti wore while dancing. Two were brown spotted pintos, the rest were shades of blue, and, as a group, they reared. A half-dozen school foals in upper-crust-school red and black uniforms screamed and ran every which direction. I landed skidding on my back with Riverdale astride, making my rib ache even more, but my heart raced and I felt exhilarated despite my anger. I could make this work. I would.

His amber eyes widened as I smiled.

He started to say, "Wha—?"

I slapped him across the muzzle with a wing. As he struggled to untangle from me, I shoved him away with my hind legs. We landed with loud crunches before each other.

Around us, I heard the crush of ponies fleeing and dodging, but I caught his eyes with an evil glare.

Again he opened his mouth.

I charged him, hissing as loudly as I could, which was more like a spitting cat than anything like the shapeshifters sounded, but maybe they'd have issues in pony form, too. He tried to dodge, but his knackered leg caused him to collapse backward on the gravel. I dived at him, spraying gravel at every shapeshifting pony unfortunate enough to be behind me, but got my forelegs below him to push him up. When he didn't get the message, I reared and pedaled my legs at his wings, hissing.

He jumped into the air. I chased him. At least he fled.

I spared a glance behind to assure myself the foals had escaped, and that the shapeshifters had paid no heed to our continued dispute. Perhaps they were combative by nature, or the prize too sweet to abandon, or we were just lucky.

"What in bloody Tartarus were you doing?" I screamed when we flew out of earshot, him evading as I tried to slap him as we flew side by side.

"I thought—"

"No, no, no!" I yelled. "Don't think! You'll save more ponies if you abandon those you can't save. Sweet Celestia!"

"But we saved some," he said, keeping his distance.

"You hope we did. Look, I'm going to do this alone."

"You'll get yourself killed!"

"I don't bloody care! I find this weirdly fun. I'm broken. Go find your troops. You saw what I did. It works. If you've got enough ponies with you, sure, try to fight if you like, but only if you can win. Don't mess this up for me!" I banked away, spotting another flight of shapeshifters.

He followed. "How can you bear to abandon ponies so much in need?"

I huffed. We had entered a thermal, so I banked along the circular column of rising air and said, "I faced off Discord when he came to wreck Ponyville. Doing the hard thing allowed hundreds to run from town before he did his worst."

"Okay, you have experience. I can see how you could join the changelings in the air so easily, but not how you might be so ready to abandon—"

"I met Princess Nightmare Moon when she ambushed Princess Celestia. The dark princess liked my attitude. It didn't hurt that I had bowed to her and called her 'Your Royal Majesty.' And had kept my eyes locked on her electric green ones. Think about it."

Riverdale paled. He drifted a pony-length away from me as we flew in tandem on the curving path. He said, "You've been touched by evil."

"Ya think? I am evil," I said, thinking how I had let Ghost Zapper burn out his horn.

"No pony who saves other—"

I shushed him. Another flight came our way. I pointed, curved toward... he had called them "changelings." Because they could change, I supposed. He followed my lead, but I swore to myself if he interfered with me saving ponies I'd buck him from the sky. I was evil that way. With us showing no fear, I joined the group that contained two identical rainbow-maned sky blue pegasi. I prayed Riverdale would stay in form.

It proved to be another Octavia situation, like in uptown Canterlot. He clacked his horseshoes together and curved south at the same time I saw a dozen teenage fillies in glittering dance clothing in that general direction. He had spotted some construction workers, a constable, and an elderly couple limping along. That we saw ponies before the changelings did, I could only assume that we were used to seeing them and they weren't, but the flight I more or less now led wouldn't miss them in a second or two because of the glitter.

I looped under and through the flight and off toward the group Riverdale had spotted, crossing so close in front of the lieutenant that he dodged up into a barrel roll with a gasp. I had the changelings' attention, though, as I pointed furiously. Mind you, I wasn't diving straight toward the group in case they might slip between buildings, but my gut had chosen who to save, those that had no chance of defending themselves. The changelings started passing me as we slowed and dipped below the roof tops. Whitewashed stone two-story residences, fronted with windows and balconies, whooshed past.

The changeling's buzz increased as they sped forward. They'd spotted Riverdale's group—

With no warning, a sudden gale wind tried to sweep me away.

Comments

[FanOfMostEverything]

There may have only been the one train, but that's a lot of trolley problems. Still, pragmatism should not be mistaken for evil. Evil is banishing the sun for the sake of your own ego, turning living creatures into your playthings, or, you know, terrorizing the populace. Pragmatism is doing the greatest good you can without falling into that unique strain of stupidity known as heroism.

Of course, the love wave may have its own thoughts to offer on that matter...