A Thin Line Between Spar And Duel
The Princess's Bit motored over the Straits of Highclaw the next morning, southward currents rushing far below between the red-streaked coral of the Great Farrier Reef to the west, and the murderous lee shore of southern Griffonia to the north and east. Few surface sailors took the straits in the evening hours, and the dawning of Celestia's sun had been a sort of signal-flag for a gathering of three or four surface barques and schooners, who'd dropped anchor to the north of the straits to await the Running of the Claw.
Fish Eye looked over the railing on the starboard gunwale, watching the tiny wooden craft boil with activity as their ponies or griffons scrambled up and down their masts, rolling out their sails and sheets and so forth.
One of the sailors had told Fish about the Running of the Claw yesterday, and she wanted to see it for herself.
The first runner of the morning had spread her sails wide, and caught the early, savage winds dancing around the sharp blooded coral of the Reef and its outriggers, little spires of living stone rising up out of the waters below, pointing bonily towards the sky and the Bit. The treacherous predawn breezes tossed that little schooner around like a waterdancer in a pond, but generally and sweetly drove her north-eastwards, towards the shattered granite teeth of the opposite shore, where, so the sailor had told Fish, the underwater rocks were thick with shipwreck, detritus, and the innumerable bones of those foolish sailors who'd judged the winds of the strait wrongly.
Such would be the fate of the impatient schooner's ship's master and her crew, if she'd set out too early and too soon.
But soon! Soon! The counter-winds were coming. They always came, fitfully and slowly, but inevitably, as the east-facing slopes of the Griffonian highlands warmed under the heavy rays of the morning sun. Especially now, in the sunny days of June.
And though Fish Eye couldn't feel them up here, two thousand feet above the troubled waves below, the little schooner's full reef of sail caught those counter-winds, and shuddered, jinked - and turned!
The bravura two-master's sails belled as she caught the upland westerlies, and pulling from both quarrelling winds via the mundane magic of her intricate rigging, rocketed down the middle of the strait, until Fish Eye lost sight of it as it passed below the bulk of the Bit's own gondola.
In the distance, the heavier and less nimble three-masted barques were getting under weigh, their anchors stowed and their less-extensive sail rigs stretching for that subtle mix of dying ocean breezes and the upland westerlies that would keep them from joining their bones with their sisters in eternity.
Fish Eye turned away from the spectacle of the sunny world, and only thought of it after the drama was over, that she should have gotten her camera. When did she stop trying to capture all of the wonders that went on around her, in negatives, or developed stock?
Since the last time she'd had access to a developing lab, if she was being honest with herself. Since before being arrested for espionage.
Fish Eye looked over at her platoon's sparring session, shifting her ensign's spontoon to her other shoulder, cupping it in her wing. The batponies were now engaging with two lances of Charlie Troop, getting some hoofwork in with flightless opponents. The corporal was dancing with that goat, what's his name, Bob something or other? No, that was the black sheep of the thestral troop, the major's new orderly...
The goat wasn't very good with a spear, to be honest. None of the ponies and creatures of Charlie Troop were. Speardancing was a flighted person's sport, hooves or claws, talons or frogs, the extra pair of wings and three-dimensional mobility made all the difference.
Corporal Vine Staff spun his spear-shaft in a counter-clockwise spiral, pulling the goat's own shaft from the grey creature's hooves.
Or not? Goats apparently had extra-sticky hooves, or something, because the goat stumbled forward with the spear instead of losing his grip. Until the colt - billy? Buck? - stopped dead, whatever goatish magic that had kept him from losing his weapon, locked him down to the planking under his other hooves.
Not that it helped the goat - while he was sticking to everything he touched, Vine Staff had reversed his shaft and clouted him across the side of his neck, right below the goat's right horn.
The goat went down like a sack of potatoes, and Fish's ensign ran over to stop the fight. All the other spars dotting the wide length of the main deck likewise stopped, as everypony looked to see if Vine Staff had broken a trooper.
Fish shoved her ensign's spontoon into the sheath laying across her back, and went over to help move the stunned goat on back to the infirmary to get looked over by her jerk of a sister.
"This is a bit much for training," Hawk Eye groused, holding open the goat's eye and shining a light into his weird squared-off pupil. "Depths take it, how am I to know if he's concussed with these preposterous eyes? Billy-Bob! Can you see how many talons I'm holding up?"
Fish Eye looked on sympathetically, as the goat tried twice to get out the right number. Goats were many things, but they were terrible stutterers.
"Take it as read, Sis," Fish intervened, after the fourth attempt by the billy-goat to get out 'three'. "Check his skull, back behind the jawline on the right."
"I know how to evaluate a patient, Fish. Don't teach your grandmother to suck eggs."
"Eww. And I don't really remember grandma. Either of them."
"Yeah, well, it's been a while. Wherever they all are."
"Auntie A says they're safe as houses, under the sea."
"That's just guesswork, there's no guarantee- wait, Auntie who?"
"Auntie Amphitrite. When I talked to her a couple days ago. Didn't I tell you?"
"Fish Eye, this is the first time we've talked since… did you say something to me back during that thing with the crazy batponies?"
"Which thing with the crazy batponies? Thestrals are always kind of unreasonable."
"The one with all the casualties! In the courtyard of that garrison!"
"Oh, yeah, that thing. Maybe? I thought I'd talked to you since then. Huh. You know, I was supposed to ask you something, tip of my tongue…"
"Fish! Focus! Which aunt have you been talking to? Where did you find a relative that isn't us? Wait. Amphitrite? You- you don't mean-"
"Oh, that's easy," Fish said over her sister's slightly pole-axed stuttering. "Auntie Amphitrite! Every hippogriff's favorite auntie! Oh, right. She wanted her figurehead modeled on your profile. She was sort of insulting about it, if you really think about it-"
"FISH!"
"Whaaat?"
"You met the seafoam goddess?"
"Yes!"
"And she didn't kill you on the spot for being you?"
"Ruuude!"
"Following seas preserve us. You met the Auntie and she didn't eat your bones. There is grace in the sea."
"Right! Now I'm her priestess. Or an acolyte? Maybe a deaconess. I'm not sure, I don't remember all the rules and regulations. But I'm maintaining a shrine for the ship! And she wants us to carve a figurehead, to represent her. I guess she's claimed the ship as her bounty for not smashing us all onto the rocks below and drowning her in her merciless waves?"
"A figurehead. Sure. What was that about-"
"Yeah! We're gonna use you as the model. She wanted a hippogriff figurehead. I don't know why!"
"Right now?" Hawk Eye looked down, and remembered that she had a patient in front of her.
He was sitting on the examination table, and looking back and forth between them like he was wishing he had a bag of popcorn.
"You, Billy-Bob. You seem fine. Don't go to sleep for another eight hours, and check in every hour with your lance corporal, so you don't pass out and die from some hematoma I'm not finding right now."
"I aaaam a lance corp'r'l, Caaaptaain!"
"Then order one of your file closers to keep an eye on you! Go on, get out of here!"
The goat got.
And then the lectures started.
Fish Eye finally escaped her sister's tirade, a boiling diatribe which apparently had been building up pressure for weeks. She didn't think that she'd been that remiss in avoiding her sister, but Hawk was the older sister, Fish supposed she knew best.
When Fish got out onto the main deck, she realized what that change in sound she'd heard about five minutes ago had meant.
The sparring session had come to a screeching halt.
In its place, were dozens of onlookers surrounding two figures pointing spearheads at each other, their blades unsafed and deadly-naked.
As Fish Eye took in the scene, the tableau broke.
And the purple unicorn leaped high over her ensign's head, her sharp-edged spear lancing downward at the batpony's unhelmeted head.
Fish's ensign blurred sideways, her spear trailing and striking sparks from the thrusting shaft of her opponent as she dropped from her leap.
Why is Fruits Basket fighting the major?
The rapid dark blur bounced off of the back of an onlooker, and Fruits Basket was suddenly halfway to the ship's balloon overhead, her webbed wings stretched wide, and her spear shaft spinning into position.
Major Shield's own spear was spinning in defense, as she crouched, waiting to take the ensign's charge.
Instead, the batpony shot towards Fish Eye, trying to get behind the unicorn's rear. The two of them spun in a spiral dance, naked blades glinting and blurring like steel ribbons twisting in the air in between their strikes.
Then they both leaped, and separated, each flying towards one end of the long main deck.
Why does the major have wings? When did she get wings? Oooh… they're pretty.
But the butterfly-winged unicorn wasn't nimble or skillful in the air, and when they came back together in a clash of rapid strikes, a blow tore through one of her gossamer wings, leaving her to tumble gracelessly to the deck below.
Fish wasn't certain, but it looked like the unicorn's own spear had caused that accident.
By the time Fish's confused ensign had furled her wings and took one apprehensive step towards the crumpled major, their superior was back on her hooves, not much more worse for wear.
"Come on, then, let's try that again!" yelled Gleaming Shield.
"Major, that was a proper strike."
"I know! Two out of three, come on, come at me!"
Fruits Basket skree'd in irritation, spun her spear, and charged.
The unicorn didn't try for an aerial attack again, and the two of them were soon breathing like billows, the deck below them slick with sweat and slippery. They struck at each other again and again, their science breaking down with exhaustion and exertion, until -
The major's spearhead struck the ensign's spear-shaft well behind the metalled langets, and the sharp thunderforged steel cut right through the haft, leaving the ensign's own spearhead to go flying off on a wobbling tangent until it was lost overboard somewhere far below.
The accident left the ensign's suddenly lighter spear-shaft unopposed and continuing on its initial arc.
Which happened to terminate squarely upon the major's forehead, right under her horn.
For the second time that day, somepony dropped like a sack of potatoes.
Fruits Basket winced in sudden self-awareness, clearly having just realized that she'd knocked her superior officer in the head.
Fish Eye looked over the poleaxed purple unicorn, and smirked.
"I'd say that was two out of three, ensign ma'am? Here, I'll take the major back to the infirmary. Also, here's your spontoon. If you're going to fight like you're using a spontoon, you really ought to use it. Longer langets, you know?"
By the time the master-sergeant burst into the infirmary, the two hippogriff sisters had come to the obvious conclusion that the major was definitely concussed.
The sergeantly lecture that came after that was positively epic.
Fish Eye took notes. She'd have to up her game if she was going to keep her own officer under better control. Giving superior officers concussions was definitely not good ton.
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Gilda lecturing Gleaming on being a reckless idiot. I can only imagine how glorious that must have been for her.
Ah, sisters. Now brothers, they'd have given you a thump, and you'd have been out of there in minutes. Much less painful.
I learn something new every time there is a new chapter. Do you do a lot of research or you already have a lot of knowledge about sailing?
Good idea to do those sparing sessions. It will keep the troops improving. At least it something they can do with the space available on deck. Let's try sparing in the corridors next! Let's see how those flyers will fair then.
But still, saying that the spear is better in the hooves of flyers is kind of a... paradox? If I wanted to fight flyers melee, I would use a whole platoon of spearmens in a tight formation to create a veritable hedgehog to prevent the flyers from closing in. And longer spears.
But there is something to argue about a flyer wielding a long weapon like a spear when something like flying involve so much balance. I guess having control of a third dimensions in fighting is a too good advantage when you also have reach.
And damn Gleaming is not bad in a fight either. She must practice daily to have reached this level. And I liked the fact that she experimented with some spells like the Butterfly Wings one. That very much a 'Twilight' thing to do.
I guess one of the reason for this chapter was on top of showing more of the daily life on the ship and progress toward their destination, it showcased Twilight fighting prowess for later in the story. Good job.
I would recommend that the regiment get the service of a 'Maîtres d'arme' in order to further improve and help those who want to learn different weapons. Always look to improve, especially with a roaming regiment like the Crystal Guards since they don't have a fix base somewhere to recruit easily with facilities to train them.
And look like Fish and Hawk began to talk again. Awww, it was almost touching if there hadn't been a goddess demand mixed in.
Yeah, that's a part I was wondering about too. I was looking forward to her taking photos of nothing everything for posterity.
I am dying. This is so obvious but so stupid that a goat would speak like that but at the same it really cracked me up! I was expecting Grogar speech patern but we go cartoon logic instead.
Billy-Bob look more and more promising as a character. And interesting ability to be able to grip and cling to things like that. Combine with the ability to eat almost anything and you have yourself a curious soldier.
Someone on one of the fishing boats below must have gotten quite a scare when the spearheaded ended one hair width from skewering him. You know, narrative logic.
Fish got a real positive attitude. Finding lessons to learn everywhere.
Is there some kind of real-life equivalent to the Running of the Claw? It sounds vaguely familiar.
I like how Fish Eye is surprisingly effective despite what others think of her. Sort of a happy-go-lucky character for which everything happens to go right. Seems kind of familiar for some reason.
Something's going to go horribly wrong and Fish Eye is going to somehow fix everything despite being oblivious to the impending disaster, and it is going to be glorious.
10029587
Nothing deliberate, and if you're a real sailor, you can no doubt tell that I'm not. There are plenty of dangerous lee shores in the world, but a dangerous passage like this, between a rugged, rocky highland and a barrier reef? If there is, and I've forgotten whatever inspired this, please, let me know.
It's my understanding that iisaw is a true sailor, although I don't know which seas he knows - presumably the west coast of the US? Anyways, I do my best to fake it while I'm on the subject, but occasionally I trip over things like the shark chowder thing.
Indeed! It's been long enough that I nearly forgot she had a camera, and that it was her photo-taking spree that had led to her ending up to where she is now.
Yeah, it's great, isn't it?
Why Fish Eye...that almost sounded like something I'd hear Gilda say. Clearly, the master-sergeant is rubbing off on her in all the right ways.
10029599
Sounds like the Gates of Hades in greece
10029609
I'm guessing maybe Fish Eye is a bit more respectful towards her 'auntie' than other hippogriffs. And perhaps she is found to be amusing? Either that or it's just fickle sea goddess-ness.
10029644
That's an evocative name, but it isn't coming up on a cursory google search. Is that a nickname for one of the Aegean straits, like the Kythira Strait?
The most famously classical example of this sort of thing is the ancient Messina Strait, infamously associated with Homer's Scylla and Charybdis, although I'm given to understand that this is an exaggeration of the actual navigation hazards of that passage between Sicily and Calabria. The real killing shore around Sicily is, in my limited understanding, around Capo Passero, a region that's seen multiple fleets blown by a sudden storm to their dooms upon that rocky shore.
10029599
Oh no, I'm not a sailor, not even close. I just assumed because of the other references in the story that this was another one.
If you're faking this, you're doing a far better job than I could ever imagine doing.
10029805
I can not remember where I first heard about the gates of Hades but yes its the one of Messina straights nicknames I think do not quote me.
10029599
You're doing a pretty good job of "faking it" so far! There are a lot of places in the world like you describe, and the San Francisco Bay and delta have a lot of them. Strong tides, currents, and winds in narrow and/or shallow places make for exciting sailing!
Waiting for the daylight to "run the claw" made me assume there are visual landmarks on shore that sailors can line up with to avoid underwater hazards. The wind changing as the inland areas warm up is a very real thing, too. There's a notorious turbulent spot under the Golden Gate Bridge called the South Tower Demon that only appears in the afternoon when the weather is hot inland. It gets strong and wild enough to rip sails to shreds and capsize 35 footers in seconds if they're unlucky.
Here's some poor SOB in the grip of the Demon:
i.ibb.co/BPYLH2w/Demon-s-Touch.jpg
Huh. Sticky goats. I'm not sure what to think of that.
Also, shame on Gleaming. Stop ordering your troops to try to kill you, mare.
10032546
pretty damn accurate i would guess . .
Kay-Oh!
Not a bad match Twiggles.
Good to see the younguns learning how to be proper officer herders from a master.
And they really are wasting Fish Eye as a bat mare, give her back the camera and make her the official keeper of the history of the regiment. The historians will either love or loathe you for it when they read her version of and commentary on these events.