XXII - The Warchief
XXII
The Warchief
The Commander removed his hoof from the boar’s throat, and casually flicked away few drops of blood. Rainbow couldn’t bring herself to feel surprise at his apathy. Where she might have retched or recoiled, she simply sat and drew in a breath, waiting for the stallion to enter the storeroom. Once his dark coat had crossed the threshold, Enka demonstrated her strength in slamming the solid steel door shut. Rainbow paid the boar a brief moment of attention before turning toward the deep, raspy panting of her father. “You okay, Dad?”
“Good… enough…” the Commander lied. In the darkness, Rainbow could hear his leg move, and she saw a small spark appear on his hoof. No more than a moment later, a dry torch on the wall likewise ignited. The light was enough to reveal shelves in the room, but Rainbow’s rapt attention stayed with her father. The rough patches of his coat slid over his ribs on loose skin, and he struggled to stand upright. He sat there for a few minutes, forcing breath back into his lungs, and Rainbow caught herself staring at his back. There, her limp wings had been stitched onto his shoulders, held in place not by careful needlework, but sheer brute force and a bit of magic, fusing a truly revolting and terrifying jagged line where her sky blue feathers met his faded navy coat.
Rainbow jumped slightly when Enka brushed past her from behind, holding a pair of waterskins against her side with a leg. The sow offered Rainbow a gentle smile to go with the water; her glance toward the Commander was far more sour. “Drink, soldier.”
The liquid in the bag was sour, but its surprising chill more than made up for the poor taste. After the first sip, the flavor took a turn for the bitter, and lost its sourness. Though she’d never been one for the prissy drink, Rainbow could still recognize the taste of tea, strangely combined with the faintest tinge of alcohol. Three healthy swallows later, she let out a pleasant gasp. “What is this stuff?”
Enka cocked her head, her heavy brow twisting upward at the edges in a display of confusion. “I thought it was water…”
“Kombucha,” the Commander grumbled. When he saw Rainbow’s look of puzzlement, he continued. “Fermented tea. You can buy it in Canterlot.”
“What’s it like?” Enka asked.
Rainbow shrugged. “Kinda bitter, but―”
“No, I mean Canterlot.” In the flickering firelight, Enka’s ears perked. “The camels say it is a holy city on a mountain.”
“It’s…” the Commander hesitated.
“…cool,” Rainbow finished. “Kinda pretty, I guess, if you’re into that sort of thing.” Her ears folded back. “Not the friendliest ponies in the world, but still.”
“It’s peaceful,” the Commander added. “Most days are quiet, and slow.” Despite the wistfulness in his tone, he was expressionless to the point that Rainbow began imagining his face as nothing more than a mask. “You’ll be there soon.”
Enka’s heavy boarish brow climbed up her sloped forehead. “What do you mean?”
“Khagan won’t spare you now that you’ve helped us,” the Commander explained. “Blood kin or not. You’ll be leaving with Rainbow.”
“And you’re not?” Rainbow stood up, glaring at her father. “What is it with the Honor Guard and trying to sacrifice yourselves? I didn’t come all this way to leave you behind!”
The Commander closed his eyes. “Why do you care, Rainbow? You hate me. You’ve made that more than clear. You hate what I stand for. So―”
“It’s not about me!” Rainbow slammed her hoof on the stone floor, and barely noticed the small thunderclap she released, shattering the stone. “It’s about Soldier On, and Deadeye! Believe it or not, there are ponies out there who care about you. And some of those ponies are my friends. That’s why you’re coming with us, Dad.”
“You misunderstand me, Rainbow.” The stallion’s irregular brown eyes opened again, and slowly swept the room. “You and Enka are able bodied. Even without your wings, you can run.” He cocked his head backward. “You see my body. I have a broken leg, and another scarred beyond use. My coat is falling out. I barely had enough energy in me to deal with the guards in the hall.”
“There’s food here,” Enka offered.
The Commander snorted. “Six months of atrophy and torture don’t disappear with a single meal. Short of Celestia’s magic, it would take me a year to get back to my former self, at best. Some of these wounds will never heal without magic.” Again his head flicked back, glancing at the burn where his right cutie mark should have been. “Some won’t heal even with magic. I can’t outrun the boars. When I escaped earlier, it was a trick. Discord’s magic. Now that’s all but spent, and even if it weren’t, the guards know we’ve broken out. I have no doubt Khagan is waiting for us outside.”
“There’s got to be some way,” Rainbow protested. “I’m not leaving you here.”
Her father bowed his head, and closed his eyes. “Are you willing to pay the price?”
The young mare’s ears folded back against her skull, and her tail slapped the stone floor. “What’s that supposed to mean? I just told you, we’re all getting out of here together.”
“It’s something guardsponies have been saying for… a very long time,” the Commander explained. “The price of loyalty. When somepony dies in battle, you’ll hear ponies say he ‘paid the price’. These days, that’s what most ponies assume it means. Dying for something or somepony you believe in.”
“You say that as if it is not,” Enka noted.
The Commander nodded once. “Dying is easy. Living is hard.” His eyes left the sow, and focused on Rainbow. “Bring my sword over here.” His hoof lifted from the floor to point at a shelf on the far end of the room.
The Gladius Procellarum looked oddly simple, tucked in its scabbard and shoved haphazardly between a leaking clay jar and a crate of what looked like pears. Still, Rainbow approached the weapon with caution, and wrapped her teeth around the sheath with trepidation. Its surprising weight pulled her head to the floor of the room as soon as she slid it off the shelf, and she released it briefly to shake off the sting on her muzzle.
The Commander took a step toward her, though his leg shook from the motion. “Are you alright?”
“Mhmm,” Rainbow answered around the weapon. “Jss…hewwy…” Rainbow dragged the weapon across the floor, and then dropped it in front of her father’s hooves. “Geeze, what is it made of? Ground steel?”
“It’s skysteel,” her father answered as he dipped his head toward the handle. The blade that came out was wide, with a gentle curve on its leading edge, and a straight back marked by a slender open slot. “Not made in a factory, but torn out of a cloud.”
Rainbow rolled her eyes. “I’ve heard all that before from Twilight, Dad. Commander Hurricane ripped off the eyewall of a hurricane and made a sword. But why does it weigh so much?”
At first, the Commander did not reply. His eyes closed, and his nostrils flared as the only indication of a slow and potent breath. Then, calmly, he tilted the sword between his teeth so that it pointed at the floor, and thrust is straight into the stone. With a violent crack and a red glow, the stone gave way. As Procellarum sank further and further into the ground, Rainbow took a step back from the awful stench and the uncomfortable heat of the molten stone. When the slot in the sword’s blade touched the rock, however, a wave of frost suddenly swept across the floor. Only then did the Commander release the weapon from his teeth.
“Skysteel holds empatha. The denser the skysteel, the more capacity it has.” With a hoof, he gestured at the weapon halfway buried in the ground. “It has enough of my magic in it to do that a thousand times over, though getting that magic back out isn’t easy. I can’t beat Khagan, but I can hold his attention.”
Rainbow shook her head. “I already told you, I’m not leaving you behind.”
“That isn’t what I meant.” The Commander looked down at the blade, and then up at Rainbow. “With what we have here, we can’t outrun Khagan. We can’t sneak past him, with the noise we made getting out of the cell. If you want me to make it out of this place alive, Rainbow Dash, you have to kill Khagan.”
It was as if Rainbow had been slapped across the face; she stood and stared unflinching at her father, her jaw not truly slack, but altogether still, as a million protests collided in the forefront of her mind. The winner did not come in her voice, and it made her sick.
If you stay on this train and come with us to Suida, you will kill. Not by accident, but with deliberation and intent. There will be blood on your hooves, and it might never wash off. That's the cost we pay for the safe, pretty Equestria you've grown up in. Right now, that's what it costs to save your father's life.
“Is that all you can think of? Violence?” Enka thrust a hoof in the direction of Procellarum. “You’re no different than Khagan if you think that will save you. Rainbow, if he wants to throw his life away, let him. We can get away together.”
“No.” Rainbow stomped once to add force to the otherwise quiet word. “There has to be another way.”
If you stay with us, you will have to make a choice. It might be between your father's life and somepony else's. It might be between my life and some guard's. I don't know the future, but I can tell you that the choice will come.
Enka pointed at Procellarum. “If that cuts through stone, can we use it to cut our way out?”
You were trying to be a good guardspony. You were trying to save lives. My life. Your princess' life. Sometimes, that means making choices. Not many ponies could make that choice. It might not always be nice; that’s what makes it hard.
The Commander shook his head. “It would take months, and we might only have minutes.”
You didn't know the Commander, so I don't expect you to understand why we need to do this. But I know you understand loyalty, so you know that this is something we have to do.
Rainbow shuddered, trying to push the memories of Deadeye and Soldier On from her mind. “Um… Enka, can you do magic?”
The sow shrugged. “Only male boars have tusks. It’s why our culture is so imbalanced.”
Rainbow says you can't leave your friends hanging, even if it means getting your hooves dirty.
Rainbow flinched when she heard Scootaloo’s voice in her mind. “Is there another way out of this place, then? Some way we could sneak out— ”
The Commander interrupted her, not with words, but by drawing Procellarum from the stone of the floor. “You’ve answered my question, Rainbow. You won’t have long. Run to Soldier On and Dead Reckoning. When you get to Celestia, have her ready the Royal Guard.”
“No!”
Following Rainbow’s shout of defiance, the room was utterly silent. Rainbow’s legs shivered, and she struggled to lift her head. “No, Dad, I’m not leaving you behind. Not after everything Deadeye and Soldier On and I did to get you.”
The Commander’s face was stone, and for a thousand heartbeats, the living statue stared into her eyes. When he finally spoke, it came with a slow shift of his head from side to side. “But you won’t kill for it.”
“You aren’t giving me a choice, are you? If I leave you behind, is that any different than if I… crap, I don’t know, if I stabbed you or something?”
Enka gasped. “You aren’t considering…”
“She’s not,” the Commander finished, when the sow’s words had drained away. “She doesn’t have the determination to follow through. She’s afraid.”
“So what if I am?” Rainbow stood up, leaning forward, and for the first time, she saw her father shrink back. “I’m not afraid of Khagan! I’m not afraid of getting hurt! The only thing I’m afraid of is that I’m going to wind up like you!”
Though it could have been a shadow, Rainbow knew she saw her father wince. However he truly felt, the glimpse passed like the flash of lightning. In its place, he granted the awful clang of metal, as Procellarum was dropped casually from between his teeth. The weapon bounced twice on its blade and the gilded spurs that made up its guard before coming to rest near Rainbow’s hooves. “Do you understand what this means, Rainbow?” He gestured to the sword.
Rainbow gritted her teeth, and turned her eyes toward the sword. “Dad, I’ve… when I was in Zebrica—”
“Look me in the eye.” He didn’t shout; from the way his breath slipped out with his words, Rainbow doubted he had the strength. In some way, his hoarse wheeze was worse. “You cannot hesitate, Rainbow. If we walk out of this room, and you stop for even a second in what you need to do, Khagan will kill you. I can’t let that happen, not just for your sake, but Equestria’s too. So look me in the eye and tell me what you’re going to do.”
“I… I’m—”
“No.” Again, the Commander’s deep voice escaped his lips, windy and loose. “You’re still hesitating. You’ll leave with Enka.” He stepped forward, and on shuddering legs, lowered his mouth toward the grip of his sword.
Rainbow rose up on her rear legs and shoved her father back. With a gasp of sheer agony, the stallion crumpled on his wounded flank, wrapped in the limp weight of Rainbow’s stitched-on feathers.
When his blotched eyes regained focus, Rainbow stood over him with her ears pinned against her mane, and her tail flicking from side to side like a whip. “I’m tired of other ponies trying to make choices for me! Soldier On, and Princess Celestia, and Spitfire, and now you too!” Her words slowed for a moment as her nostrils flared to suck in a powerful breath. “And, you know what? You’re probably right. We can’t fly, we’ve got next to no magic, and we don’t have time to think of something else, so it seems like the only way left is fighting our way out. I’ll admit it, Dad. You’re right. Fine. But if I’m the one who has to make the choice between you and Khagan, I’m picking you, for Deadeye’s sake. It makes me sick, but I’ll do it. Now give me the stupid sword!”
“Rainbow…” Enka’s thoughts were cut off by nothing more than Rainbow’s furious glare.
In the ensuing silence, the Commander rose to his hooves once more. For the first time, it seemed there was a crack in the stone of his expression. Rainbow wasn’t sure what to make of it; she could see the emotion written across his face in the way the corners of his lips shuddered, and the furrow that ducked up and down on his brow. Yet through it all, she couldn’t even begin to imagine just what he was actually feeling.
Her only shred of answer came when his lips parted, and his parched throat leaked out a harsh demand. “Prove you won’t hesitate, then.”
Without hesitation, she answered him. “How?”
“Cut off your wings
Rainbow’s eyes flashed wide. “Why?”
“Because they’re holding me down,” the Commander told her bluntly. “And I can’t take them off cleanly myself.” His hoof nudged Procellarum gently forward.
She moved her neck down and wrapped her teeth around the tight cloth grip on the handle. It tasted dry, and coppery. Bloody. She pulled up, struggling with the weight. It rose after a moment, but the blade danced off the left side of her cheek, bobbing her head up and down against her best efforts.
“Dad,” she began, finding it surprisingly easy to speak if she clamped the blade into the back of her mouth. “Too heavy…”
“If you can’t do it—”
Rainbow spat out the word and turned back to the shelves of the storeroom. “I can do it, Dad.” She rushed over to the shelf holding Hurricane’s armor, and swept her hooves to send the black armor scattering across the floor. “This is what I needed.”
The Commander watched as Rainbow pulled canvas and twine away from the blade of a sword—or what should have been one.
“What is that?” Enka wondered, edging backward. “Why do you have the ghost of a sword?”
“It’s not a ghost,” Rainbow told the sow, pulling the handle behind her teeth as if it were a bit to free up her tongue. “It’s just see-through skysteel. Look, you can touch it if you want.”
“Does it have a name?”
Rainbow rolled her eyes. “Soldier On asked me that too. Let’s just… let’s get this over with.”
With the see-through sword in her teeth, she forced her hooves closer to her father. One step and then another, and another.
He nodded to her slowly, and then closed his eyes, keeping his chin high as if he had seen something over her shoulder.
“Is this going to hurt you?”
“Would you believe me if I said ‘no’?”
Rainbow bit down tighter on the sword. She had to focus to make her nostrils draw in a breath. She smelled the scent of salt and stormclouds from her sword, and the dense stagnant air of the storeroom with its wooden shelves. But above all, she smelled blood and ashes, sweat and rot, all from the stallion mere inches away.
“What are you waiting for?” the Commander growled.
Rainbow turned to him, but his eyes were still closed. Not clenched shut, but resting calmly. “Do you want me to do it slowly, and try to be gentle, or—”
“Aim for the stitching,” he told her. “But do it quickly. Like ripping off a bandage.”
She forced down another breath, and her throat burned for the effort. With as much gentleness as she could muster, she aligned the blade with the cruel line where the feathers that had once been hers met her father’s shoulder.
Mortal Coil wiped the sweat from his brow as the last vestiges of magic left his horn and the tongues of purple flame disappeared from the corners of his eyes. A flat disc hovered in the air before him, behind which the Summer Lands beckoned. All around it, the Between was a land of mists and marshes, no doubt the leftovers of the trepidation in the minds of his three companions at leaving their father behind. “Here we are. All three of you, safe, sound, and bored out of your minds. Now your dad will have to come up with a new reason to disperse me.” He watched Cyclone’s titanic limbs climb up onto the lip of the portal, before his view of the would-be-paradise was blocked by his wife’s approach.
“Won’t you stay, for a little while?” Gale tossed a hoof onto her husband’s shoulder, and then then another, crossing her forelegs around the collar of his coat. “I don’t know what you think is so important out there that you can’t come see us more often.” Her velvet coat nuzzled against his neck, and his ears perked up. “The kids miss you. Especially Velvet. You didn’t even talk to her the last time you came by.”
“She won’t have even noticed,” Morty whispered back. “The Summer Lands’ magic is too powerful for that, and—ow!”
The last exclamation spawned from the throbbing pain in his right cheek, where Gale had slapped him with enough force to leave the rather tall stallion reeling. “She’s your daughter, Mortal Coil!”
Morty’s shoulders dropped. “You’re right. Of course.”
“Of course,” Gale echoed, letting the slightest hint of venom accompany the words. Her glare persisted for a few moments, but it broke down quickly, and the young-bodied mare began chuckling to herself. The laughed ended abruptly, however, when a little spark wound its way around the spiral of her horn, and her mane stood up. “Morty, did you—”
“It wasn’t me,” he replied. “It’s Rainbow, again. Get… damn, who would we want? Get Graargh, if you can find him, and Iron Hoof, and that old Cirran scout friend of yours.”
“Pathfinder?” It was the first time Typhoon had spoken in hours, and her word surprised Morty enough that the unicorn jerked toward her. “What’s going on? What do you want him for?”
Morty’s icy blue eyes rolled briefly. “I would rather have Tempest, but I figure you’d probably stab me if I tried to put your son in ‘danger’. We need to help Rainbow again. We need to catch her before she winds up back here, this time.” His head swiveled briefly toward Gale. “Typhoon and I will travel ahead. Do you remember what I taught you about how to get out on your own?”
Gale’s head dipped once, briefly. “We won’t be long. But are you sure you want Typhoon?”
“I don’t have much choice,” Morty answered. “You and I can’t do it. Trust me, Gale, I have a plan. Go.”
The first Equestrian guardsmare offered a stiff, if sarcastic, salute. With a quick flare of her own blue magic, she teleported through the portal. No more than a second later, it disappeared, and Morty again wiped his brow clear of sweat. “Let’s get moving, Typhoon,” he ordered the remaining soldier, before turning stiffly in place.
“Where?” Typhoon’s hoof caught Morty’s shoulder, pulling the unicorn around in place to face her. “Give me a straight answer, Coil!”
At first, he was quiet. His eyes fled from her glare. It wasn’t until her wings tensed in irritation that he found his words. “I don’t make a secret of keeping an eye, and sometimes a hoof, in the living world. When somepony is sent to the Summer Lands, it doesn’t tend to make much of a splash, but a pony getting pulled back is hard to miss. After what happened with Hurricane, I’ve been keeping an eye on Rainbow.”
“And?” Typhoon pressed.
Morty closed his eyes and gestured with his neck toward some unclear direction in the mists of the Between. “Walk. We’ll talk while we’re on the way.” He held his tongue for a good dozen strides, as the marshy grasses squished and shifted under his hoof. “My spell was unfinished, Typhoon, and it was never actually intended to raise the dead. I wrote it so I could stop aging—and for the record, it worked pretty well for that—but it turns out attaching a soul to a dead body isn’t all that different from pinning a soul to a body that’s, for lack of a better term, frozen in time. Without a focus like my amulet, there’s nothing to get broken or damaged that might cause the soul fly off back where it came from. But that also means the soul’s attachment to the living world is more fragile. It needs something powerful to latch onto, like love, or friendship, or it starts to twist. In the best case, you get a strong soul like Rainbow’s that simply breaks free of its bonds and returns here. In the worst case, the pony’s personality starts to change, until they’re a sick mockery of who they used to be. I have to assume your father’s bond stayed strong because of Celestia. I thought Rainbow’s bond with her friends would be enough, but the spell isn’t holding together. Until I can figure out what’s different, I’m doing what I can to support her, and keep the bond strong.”
“And what do you need me for?”
All at once, the seriousness in Morty’s expression was gone. He turned to face Typhoon with the expression of a cat offering a beheaded bird to its owner. “Moral support.”
Typhoon’s eye twitched, and her neck twisted to reach for Hiems. Before she could reach it, Morth held up a hoof. “I’m being serious. See, attaching a soul to a body is a lot like... what’s a metaphor you would understand?” He tapped the raised hoof on his chin, and a moment later a smile broke across his face. “Like a sword and a sheath.” Typhoon cocked a brow as the necromancer continued. “Imagine Rainbow’s soul is a sword, and her body is a sheath, right? Now, earlier, when Rainbow’s soul was here with us, that’s like having the sword fully taken out; it isn’t touching the sheath at all anymore.”
“Drawn?” Typhoon suggested.
Morty shrugged. “Sure, whatever. Anyway, that’s the absolute worst case, but a sword doesn’t just go all the way in, or all the way out. You can ‘draw’ it partway. Then only part of the blade is out, and there’s also an open hollow spot in the sheath. Follow?”
Typhoon’s head twisted to the side. “So… there’s a hole in Rainbow’s body? Is your spell injuring her?”
Morty slapped his brow with a hoof, and then gasped. “I think your dad left a bruise…” he growled through gritted teeth, before sucking down a new breath. “No. The ‘hole’ is where her soul is supposed to go, not part of her body. She’s only partway in her body, and if some nasty spirit like your ex-coltfriend found their way in there, we’d have a serious problem.” He gestured broadly toward the mist with his horn. “I don’t need to tell you what’s out there. So we’re going to beat them to it. I’m going to put you in Rainbow’s head.”
It took Typhoon a moment to react, as Morty strode forward into the mist. “Then we’re back to the original question. Why me? Why not Gale? Or could you do it yourself?” Typhoon lifted her hoof from the sludgy grass, and in irritation, froze the ground beneath her hoof.
“I tried both,” he answered. “I don’t have enough in common with her; her mind kept fighting back against me, conjuring up things from her past. Her mother’s death. Her grandfather. That damn song.” Coil swiped with his tail as if it would somehow wipe the thoughts from his mind. “Gale was a better fit the one time I had her try, but it took too much mana for me to try and set her up from Stalliongrad, and she still wasn’t a very good fit. You’re our best bet for a fit. Even beyond that, I did get a glimpse of what’s going on with Rainbow and her father in the living world. They need a soldier to help them out, and I don’t use empatha.”
“You’re going to make me show up there? In a physical body?”
Morty chuckled. “Yeah. Rainbow’s. Now, I hope that answers your questions, because we’re here.” He lifted his hoof from the marsh, and rapped on a tree trunk.
The noise startled Typhoon; as she looked around, she could see the outlines of trees surrounding her in all directions through the mist, yet at no point did she recall entering a forest. “Coil… where the Hell are we?”
“The Between’s version of Everfree City,” the stallion answered, chuckling. “Obviously, a little more forested than you’re used to, but thankfully, without all the wooden golems and walking corpses and half-breed monsters of the physical version. And somewhere around here…” His horn ignited pale blue, and the mists began to shift and writhe. Not three seconds later, the ground before the necromancer was revealed: a stone staircase leading down into the earth, surrounded by loose rubble and undergrowth. “…is a place you should recognize.”
“Is this Father’s tomb?”
“We have a winner!” With those sarcastic words, Coil began his descent.
Hurricane’s Tomb was a dusty, spacious single chamber, lit only by Mortal Coil’s magic. “Always a strange feeling to walk over your own grave,” he muttered. Typhoon shot him a look of confusion, but he ignored it in favor of approaching the empty stone coffin in the center of the room. The box was enormous, carved by hoof to accommodate Hurricane’s full wingspan for a true Cirran burial, with wings spread facing homeward to Dioda. The sides of the box were carved with Cirran characters and pictures depicting the story of the stallion meant to be interred inside. Even there, in the Between’s shadowy reflection of the real tomb, Typhoon could feel the magic she, Cyclone, Gale, and even Celestia had left to protect Hurricane’s remains into the future. But as Typhoon approached the coffin, with its lid set off to the side of the room, she found those remains missing.
“He’s not here…”
Coil briefly looked up at her in disbelief. “You know what happened, Typhoon. Did you think Celestia just pulled a new body out of thin air for him?”
The soldier shook her head. “No. I just… if his body isn’t here, why bring me to an empty tomb?”
Morty replied by rapping his hoof on the coffin. “We need a safe focal point. Climb on in.”
“You’re insane!” Typhoon moved to grab Hiems, only to find its handle and sheath already firmly wrapped in a pale glow.
The necromancer adjusted the collar of his formal coat with a hoof as he shook his head. “I really hate that word, Typhoon. I get it. You’re frustrated with me. I lied to Gale and Cyclone to get them out of our manes so we could help Rainbow. Then I brought you here without a very good explanation. Admittedly, it’s because a proper magical explanation would go right over your head, but that’s a tough pill to swallow when you already don’t trust me.” He tapped a hoof on the floor. “But stop and think about this: have I ever, ever, used my magic for anything other than helping ponies? I don’t pretend I’m perfect, and even if it’s irrational, I’ll admit that the things I do can be a little bit intimidating, but I need you to trust me. Rainbow needs you to trust me.”
Typhoon’s wings folded slowly against her back, though the ridges on her muzzle refused to settle. “You want me to trust you? Stop playing your stupid games and give me a straight answer. Why here? Why Father’s coffin?”
Morty tapped the stone. “Most spirits don’t have the mana or the knowledge necessary to break free back into Equestria. I have both. Using that much magic tends to get their attention, and they flock to wherever they sense it; that’s why Luna’s horde attacked us when I grabbed Rainbow earlier. If you go to Rainbow out there, in the open, you’ll come back to at least one spirit waiting to take all your mana and disperse you. But if you get in the coffin, the only one around to chase will be me. Once I’ve fought off or lost whatever comes for us, I’ll come back and get you out.”
Typhoon’s eye twitched. “You want me to let you lock me in my father’s coffin?”
Morty nodded. “Unless you want Equestria to be destroyed by some all-powerful evil spirit who ate the soul of the Bearer of Loyalty.” He gestured to her wing with his horn. “You’ve got a little twitch going on there, Typhoon. You alright?”
“I don’t like tight spaces,” she hissed back. “Why don’t you get in the coffin, and I’ll fight off the monsters?”
He answered her with a chuckle. “One, because as I already explained, I’m not a good match for her psyche. The whole obsession with loyalty thing gets in the way of more important morality for me. Two, if I got in the box, how do you propose I cast the spell? It won’t let magic through; that’s the entire point. Three, I have a way better chance of coming back for you than you do for me.”
The Cirran mare flared her wings. “You think you’re a better soldier than me, colt?”
“Hmm… am I a better fighter than a mare whose entire contribution to history consisted of fighting alone, losing, and then being taken hostage?” Morty shook his head, and his tail swished in amusement. “Out of the two of us, I’ve never come back from a fight pregnant, brainwashed, or dead.” Then, abruptly, he paused. “Actually, that last one isn’t quite true…” He blinked out of existence just in time to avoid having an icicle thrust through his brain. “Am I not allowed to make that joke after eight thousand years? Fine. I’ll admit I wasn’t your equal in battle for as long as you were alive. But in the millennia since, I’ve spent my days feeding on Celestia and Luna’s memories, fighting off shades, and doing my best to keep Equestria safe. You’ve sat on your haunches in the Summer Lands. I am the better of us now. But all that is beside the point: I can’t get in Rainbow’s head myself. We don’t have time to waste. Get in the coffin.”
Typhoon’s frosted wings remained spread as her gaze flicked between the necromancer and the coffin. Then, with a hesitant breath, she lifted her legs into the box. “I’ll do this for Rainbow, and for Father. I’m trusting you, Coil.”
As Morty’s horn ignited, he let loose another grating chuckle. “That’s probably a bad choice, but thanks anyway.” A strange light began to appear at the corners of Typhoon’s vision, and the lid of the coffin grated overhead. “This might hurt a—”
Typhoon lost the necromancer’s word when the blue light swept over her, and the agony wiped away her thoughts.
“I knew you couldn’t do it.” The Commander approached his daughter, who shivered with legs locked, staring down at her own wing on the floor. His leg rose shakily from the ground, and he wrapped it around Rainbow’s neck. She felt his weight on her neck, leaning heavily on her as he struggled to embrace her. “Let it out, Rainbow. Let it go.”
“You’re right… you’re right, Dad.” Her eyes clenched shut, but on the backs of her eyes, she still saw it. The severed wing lay there, cold and crumpled. “I don’t think…”
Her words died to the feeling of a stormcloud beneath her, as something like electricity swept up from her hooves, making her coat rise. When the almost comfortable tingling had past, her limbs felt cold and heavy. Uncomfortably, she shifted her legs in hope that motion would relieve the strange chill.
Her legs refused to budge.
Whoa, that was weird— Rainbow let the thoughts of her words die out. She hadn’t said anything. Her tongue wouldn’t heed her. What’s happening? Again, her mouth was still. When she tried to move her hoof, the result was the same: nothing. Utter stillness. Claustrophobia began to set in as her closed eyes blocked out all light. She wanted to shiver, to curl up, to do anything at all.
And then, that simply, her eyes opened. Without any thought from her, she could see again. Her father stared back at her. He seemed emotionless, as always. No anger. No disappointment. No sorrow.
Help! No sound escaped. Her eyes widened at the thought, and she felt one of her own hooves rise from the ground to scratch at her brow in confusion. The simple movement nearly sent her body tumbling to the ground, and the instinctual flaring of wings that weren’t there did nothing. Rainbow’s body only managed to catch itself on a pile of wooden crates that it clumsily sent clattering to the ground.
“What was that…?” Rainbow asked, save that she hadn’t. It was her voice, to be sure, but not from her will. The hoof that had scratched her head moved in front of her eyes, and again her eyes grew wide, accompanying a sharp intake of breath.
What’s happening? Who are you? A changeling, or something? Get out of my head!
Unable to hear Rainbow’s silent protests, the Commander cocked his head in the direction of her body. “What’s wrong, Rainbow? You look dizzy.”
It’s not me! Rainbow shouted, without moving her mouth.
“I... think I let out some empatha,” her body explained. Her body paused and smacked her lips together, working her jaw like it was something alien, and she felt her eyes narrow at the sensation. “It won’t happen again. My head is clear now.”
“Can you continue?” the Commander asked, gesturing down at her sword again. “Or will I need to finish the other wing myself?”
Her eyes traced the length of the blade that had fallen at her hooves, and then turned to stare at her severed wing, lying beside her father. There, they rested for a very long time. Rainbow desperately wished she could look away, or escape, or even simply close her eyes. Instead, they lingered on the wing, against her will.
Her right forehoof rose from the floor, and she held it in front of her eyes. It turned slowly, as her eyes took in its chips and dents, and the dust that had built up in her skysteel shoes from weeks of travel. From the way her eyes were widened, though, it seemed as though she had never seen a hoof before, rather than taking concern at the state of her body.
Can anyone hear me? What’s happening?
Next, her neck lowered slowly, bringing her head toward her sword. Her mouth opened to grab the handle, but instead of grabbing it calmly, she pressed her muzzle against the stones of the floor. An uncomfortable chill spread across her face, and she felt her ears peel back against her skull in irritation. With a second try, she claimed the weapon.
Abruptly, Rainbow’s head tilted back, staring into her father’s eyes with intensity, though she hadn’t meant it to. “The other wing, now?” she heard herself ask, speaking with surprising clarity despite the sword between her teeth.
Her father’s brow shifted upward, though only slightly. He said nothing, but turned his body to expose Rainbow’s other wing.
Rainbow felt herself grimace around the sword, as her eyes locked onto the morbid stitching.
Who’s there? she tried to shout, and though her mind heard the words, her mouth was still and steady around her sword. Morty! Anypony? What’s happening?
Her neck pulled back, and though she tried to close her eyes, the effort was in vain. With no other option, she watched the blade cut with frightening precision. A few drops of blood fell from the fresh cut, but nothing as unsightly as what Rainbow’s first cut had dealt.
Can you even hear me? she tried to shout.
“Quiet,” Rainbow’s voice snapped.
The Commander cocked his head. “Rainbow? Are you sure you’re up to this?”
I don’t know what’s happening!
Rainbow’s voice spoke up, determined and harsh. “What’s the plan?”
A single breath preceded the Commander’s directions. “Enka, bring me the armor Rainbow knocked over earlier. It may sting you to touch it, but it won’t hurt you.”
Let me go!
Rainbow’s head turned without her input, and then her body jumped back in surprise at the sight of Enka. As the sow began to pull the armor down from the storeroom’s shelves, Rainbow heard herself speak. “What is that?”
The Commander growled to clear his throat, and then spat on the ground. “I thought you would have recognized it from the pageant, Rainbow. That’s Commander Hurricane’s armor.”
Do you hear me? Let me go!
In return for her silent protests, Rainbow felt her own body take a breath. “Alright, Rainbow, stay calm.”
Wait… can you hear me? Who are you? What’s happening?
The Commander cut off any chance of a swift answer. “I don’t have much mana left. We only have time for one go at this. I’ll use my empatha to hold Khagan’s attention. You land the killing blow. Boars have thick skulls for ramming one another, and his magic will regenerate his throat before he bleeds out if you go for that. Your best chance is his spine. Put that sword into his neck at the base of his skull and you should be able to kill him before his magic has a chance to close the wound.”
“And if it doesn’t?” Rainbow’s body asked.
The Commander scowled. “Then you and Enka will run for your lives, and I’ll hold Khagan’s attention as long as possible.” His head flicked away. “Enka, bring the armor here.” His attention returned to Rainbow almost immediately. “If Khagan survives, or something goes wrong, you do not take another chance. You and Enka will run for Soldier On and Reckoning. I’ll buy you as much time as I can, but you are not to come back for me. The armor is onyx-plated skysteel infused with void dust, so it will protect you from Khagan’s magic. Enka, you’ll need to stay close to Rainbow if you want to make it out. If you need to, pick her up and carry her. You have longer legs, and you’re more used to the terrain.”
“Understood.”
At her own agreement, Rainbow cried out silently. What? You can’t just leave him to die!
“I’ll do what I have to.”
For almost ten seconds, the Commander stared at Rainbow. His face remained nearly unreadable; all Rainbow could tell was that he was thinking. His pensive stance ended when his parched, cracked lips came together, and he whistled four notes.
You are my sun… What?
“What?” Rainbow’s body asked, as the last note ended with a distinct, audible click.
The Commander ignored the question, reaching over with shaking hoof toward Enka, holding the black and gold armor of Hurricane. “The armor is enchanted. Apparently, a griffon cut one of the straps on the peytral while Commander Zephyr was wearing it.” With silent aid from Enka, Rainbow’s father placed the suit onto Rainbow’s back. “I know you know the song.”
The lightning bolt clasp clicked around Rainbow’s neck, and her body rolled its shoulders. “It’s very light…”
“It’s pure skysteel, unlike gilded armor,” the Commander explained. “There’s a layer of stratus, and underneath that, a thin coating of nimbus that’s been enchanted since the Shadow War. The black itself is void crystal over an onyx plating that helps absorb blows better than solid skysteel would.” Then the Commander cupped the helmet of the armor with one hoof, and hoisted it to Rainbow’s head. “Part of the magic will help it stay on you, though it doesn’t just resize like some of the other enchanted suits of armor. Right hoof.”
Rainbow’s hoof rose, and the Commander slid a bracer up her leg. Without prompt, her other leg rose, and it too was armored. “There. Now, let’s move.”
Enka rose, and the Commander went soon after, pausing only to sling the sheath of Procellarum over his shoulder, and stow the weapon inside. A few stray drops of blood on his side ran over the leather, gold, and skysteel.
Rather than following straight away, Rainbow’s body fell in line a half-dozen steps behind her father and Enka. It spoke, in a whisper. “Rainbow, it’s Typhoon.”
Typhoon?
“Coil sent me; he said you needed help.”
Why didn’t you say so before?
“How would that benefit the situation?” Typhoon countered. “Your father and the… enka?”
Her name is Enka. Haven’t you ever seen a boar before?
“No. Regardless, your father and the boar would have asked inconvenient questions, and in the end, nothing would have changed. It’s still the three of us against this Khagan. Is he another boar?”
Yeah. But he’s big, and magic. Like Princess Celestia or Princess Luna—
“I see.” Though the words came out in a whisper, Rainbow could feel the surprise of the statement. Before any comment could be made on the subject, Typhoon directed Rainbow’s eye toward Enka. “Why is a boar with us?”
Khagan locked her up because she hates fighting.
“So she’s no help.” Typhoon spat on the floor. “I hope you’re father is as good as mine was, Rainbow.”
The thought was bitter, but there was no time for rebuttal. Ahead, the tunnel through the red stone of Balgas Rift turned. Standing in the corner, Enka waited with her eyes locked on Rainbow.
“You don’t have to be like him, Rainbow Dash,” Enka whispered. “Maybe I’m wrong, but I don’t think this is what you want. I heard what you said to him. You aren’t a soldier, are you?”
She’s right… but I have to—
Typhoon cut Rainbow’s silent words off, speaking aloud. “I didn’t choose this, Enka. I didn’t come here wanting a fight. But family is important, no matter how distant.” With those words, she turned the corner, and found herself looking at the silhouette of the Commander in a doorway. From beyond the precipice of the fortress, natural sunlight painted the dusty stones a vibrant crimson.
“Come,” the Commander ordered, his voice as dusty as the rest of the fortress. “It’s time.”
Typhoon guided Rainbow forward, clutching her curved, transparent sword tight between her teeth and forcing herself to breath slowly. The light blinded them when it struck Rainbow’s eyes. For just a brief second, all they could see was a wall of golden-white. Despite the lack of sight, the outside world felt wonderful, and alive. The air was fresh, and clean. Though scalding, the desert sun was a welcome change from the torchlights and smoky shadows of Balgas Rift. Yet, in that moment of near total freedom, their ears perked up against a gentle breeze, to the sound of a growling, ghostly voice.
“So… the Commander of Equestria comes to face me at last. Look at what our ancestors have sent us, in punishment for our dishonor.”
Typhoon blinked away the light, and took in the vague shape of the fortress. Balgas Rift took the form of an enormous teardrop of lowered ground carved out of sheer stone cliffs rising hundreds of feet overhead. Carved into the faces of those walls were boar-sized doors and windows, and a series of enormous red banners rose toward the sky overhead, decorated with what looked like severed tusks or ribs.
There was only one boar in sight, though Rainbow thought she saw others watching from the windows overhead. Warchief Khagan of Suida grinned beneath the web of scars covering his face, and his oversized scything tusks swung to and fro a mere foot above the dust and dirt that made up the canyon’s floor.
“And you’ve brought your daughter as well. I’ll give her a warrior’s death, if she can prove she deserves it. I wonder, have you told her of your crimes?”
“She knows,” the Commander wheezed in reply. “But you won’t kill her today.” He closed his eyes, sucked down as deep a breath as he could manage, and opened them again as tiny slits. “You are going to let us go.”
Rainbow watched the focus in her father’s brown irises as the wind played with her mane. There was something about the way the Commander spoke that held her attention.
“He doesn’t waste any time,” Typhoon whispered, before digging into the soil with the leading edges of Rainbow’s hooves, as if bracing to sprint.
“Do you think my willpower is weak enough that you can overpower it with that magic?” Khagan glared at the Commander and stomped on the ground as his voice rotted away in the distance. A wide cloud of dust rose up behind his leg, and the wind teased it gently toward Rainbow.
Typhoon kicked off.
“I don’t expect to overpower you,” the Commander slowly told the boar.
Rainbow’s legs tore forward.. Her eyes clenched as she sprinted through the dust.
“You already gave us what we needed.”
Three strides away, Typhoon reared up. Rainbow’s trained, toned hind legs kicked off the ground with the strength of a trained flier’s launch.
“It’s over.”
Even without her wings, Rainbow soared. Her forehooves touched down on the top of the warchief’s shoulder, and Typhoon cleanly guided the blade into Khagan’s spine. It was in every way a perfect cut, digging straight into the thin slot at the base of the boar’s skull.
Khagan’s mouth slowly fell open, and his harsh eyes betrayed a mixture of realization and pain. A trickle of blood ran its way through the boar’s coat and the scars on his brow, dribbling in front of his right eye. Standing on his back, Typhoon released her skysteel sword, leaving it standing upright in Khagan’s spine.
The mighty boar shuddered, and Typhoon leapt down, skidding in the dirt as her father’s armor rattled around her lean frame. She turned to the Commander. “Lets go, before more of them—”
The world spun, and stars exploded into Rainbow’s vision from the sheer pain in her side. Between the flashes in her eyes as the sun spun around her, she saw Balgas Rift above her, and the sky below.
“Rainbow!” the Commander bellowed somewhere off to her side. The world spun again, and then pain ran up her side once more, alongside a crunch. Her eyes were watering, and everything was dark, but she could feel the ground against her cheek.
Typhoon?
No answer came. Her body lay still.
Typhoon?! Get up! What happened?
Khagan bellowed into the air; Rainbow could never have mistaken the sound of his voice, rotting as it met her ears. The sound was close, as were the shudders of the ground that marked his massive hooves trodding toward her.
“Always using trickery as a substitute for strength. In the end, your games can’t save you, Commander.”
Rainbow heard a hiss, and a shriek like steam leaving a tea kettle. Khagan roared again, and a faint mist tickled the coat on Rainbow’s side.
“Enka, get Rainbow!” The Commander’s voice was sore, panting, and desperate.
Typhoon, get up! We have to help him!
Rainbow felt Enka’s muzzle on her back, and then digging under her side. A twisted howling tore through the air, like a unicorn’s magic heard from underwater. Whatever had made the noise grew louder for a moment, and then suddenly stopped. Hurricane’s armor shifted only slightly on Rainbow’s back, and she felt it begin to hum aloud.
“What? How did you—” The rest of Khagan’s twisted words were lost as Rainbow’s body turned, lifted from the ground and onto Enka’s back. Trapped in her own mind, Rainbow could do nothing as the sow beneath her broke into a run.
We can’t leave him!
“Always using trickery as a substitute for strength. In the end, your games can’t save you, Commander.” Khagan’s spiked yellow teeth grinned at the Commander for only a spare second before both his beady eyes and his tusks turned toward where he had thrown Rainbow. Hurricane’s helmet rested in the dust a dozen feet away, and she wasn’t moving.
There wasn’t time for second thought. The Commander bit down his cheek and focused his memories. His right foreleg was sheathed in ice, while his left burst into flames. Rearing up on his crippled leg and forcing the physical pain into his empatha, he twisted the shoulder of his broken leg so that it ran along his healthy one. A cloud of mist and smoke flew toward Khagan, obscuring the warchief’s vision and wrapping the boar’s face in frost.
Whispy, sickly arcana gathered around Khagan’s tusk, meant for Rainbow’s unarmored head. The Commander hurled himself forward with both his hind legs. Procellarum met the frozen ivory of a tusk. A bellow of agony followed, punctuated by a dull thud when the severed tusk met the ground.
“Enka! Get Rainbow!”
Khagan’s head turned, and his remaining tusk slashed at the Commander’s skull. With no other option, the stallion hurled himself to the ground. Wind tossed the grimy hairs of his ungroomed mane. As soon as it passed, he hurled himself back with what little strength he could gather, hoping to avoid the second pass of the tusk.
It never came.
The Commander watched as the warchief’s tusk ignited in a color his mind could not remember, directed toward Rainbow. Through the pain of his wounded legs and his blood-crusted side, the stallion hurled himself at Khagan.
A line of magic rotted out of the Commander’s memory. As it flew for Rainbow’s head, however, the spell was tugged by some unseen force. Narrowly, it wrapped its way around the young mare’s head, and sank harmlessly into the black armor. All that remained of it was a slight shudder in Rainbow’s shoulders, and a dull but constant ringing that clawed its way into the Commander’s ears.
“What? How did you—”
The Commander brought a hoof down on the Warchief’s brow. It was a weak blow, compared to the sheer size of the boar’s skull, but it was only meant to be disorienting. It bought half a second; more than enough time. Procellarum dipped into Khagan’s left eye, far enough that it hit skull on the other side. With a better grip, the Commander might have gone for his enemy’s brain; as the boar’s head shook in agony, he knew he wouldn’t be able to get the angle. As fast as he could manage, the stallion clambered his way up Khagan’s back, toward the ghostly sword still standing up like a pennant from the boar’s spine.
His hind left hoof dug into the boar’s rough coat, laden with scars. Four strides to go. Gritting his teeth, he forced his right hind leg up onto Khagan’s scalp. The seared flesh where his right cutie mark should have been nearly brought tears to his eyes, but the leg moved. Three.
Khagan released a heavy breath. Before the Commander could get a decent grip with his two reliable legs, he felt his stomach spin. Khagan rose onto his hind legs, and then let himself fall onto his stomach. The abrupt jerk sent the Commander flying off the warchief’s head, and then rolling across the dirt of Balgas Rift. Procellarum fell from his grip, skittering off on the ground a few yards away.
Yards… it may as well have been miles. He was no closer to Procellarum than he was to Canterlot.
Khagan’s step forward shook the ground beneath the Commander’s chin, and captured the pony’s attention. With both red eyes glaring forward, the Warchief grinned. At the side of his face, the bloody stump of his left tusk shuddered and churned like some sort of ooze instead of solid bone. Before the Commander’s eyes, the stump began to repair itself, just as his eye must have.
“Done already, Commander?”
The stallion on the ground opened his mouth to speak, and felt his throat groan for want of water. After a pause of painful focus, he forced wind across his tongue. “I was done months ago, Khagan.” Driving himself slowly to his hooves, the Commander wheezed out another heavy breath. “And you were done six years ago.”
Khagan briefly attempted to turn his head, in a show of confusion. The blade in his spine prevented the motion, and his brow creased with irritation. “What are you hoping to accomplish? Buying time for my bloodkin and the filly to escape? They’ll never outrun me. On hoof, it takes days to escape the desert.”
The Commander answered Khagan’s glare. “She’s my daughter, Khagan. And if you know what’s good for you, you won’t chase her.”
“You aren’t in a position to threaten me.”
“She’s the Bearer of Loyalty. Do you know what that means?” The Commander coughed once, and then rubbed his hoof into the fleck of blood he’d left on the dirt. “Do you remember?”
For a tiny sliver of a moment, Khagan’s eyes widened. “She had an Element of Harmony?”
“I’m worth nothing,” the Commander managed. “I can be replaced. But her… that mare and her friends are the most dangerous ponies in the world. Equestria will go to war for them.”
“I am not afraid of you ponies.” Khagan ground a hoof through the rough red dirt. “I found the secret behind your Tusk Rot. I know about the flowers. My armies will crush you.”
“Do you think you can fight Celestia and Luna?” the Commander asked. “What about Discord? Do you think your armies will stay coordinated when you are dead?”
Khagan ground his hoof into the sand. “They won’t fight me. If Celestia were brave enough, she would not have sent you.”
The Commander took a single step forward. “She didn’t know, Warchief. I didn’t tell her.” And then, with a brief flick of his attention to the narrow path out of Balgas Rift, he drew in a full breath. “You weren’t worth her time.”
Khagan bellowed, and charged. The Commander braced himself, sucked in his pain, and remembered.
You are my sunshine…
My only sunshine…
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Since you beat 24 by a minute and Ruirik by 2min30s it's only fair that I read your chapter first.
The whole Typhoon/Rainbow deal was very interesting, hope to see it in future chapters.
Also Morty is hilarious, some of those jabs at Typhoon, damn he doesn't pull any punches (although, like he said, it has been eight freaking thousand years).
Yknow, Zevski, I can't help but imagine that your avatar's face is the same one that the Commander has on his face right now. It's just too perfect.
And now, to wait another agaonzingly long time to see what happens between Khagan and the Commander--if there's anything to say at all.
5335616
Yes, but his face would probably be a bit more bruised and feature a few broken teeth.
And to think, all of this could have been advoided if you had told her.
I can't handle all this suspense in between. I swear.
Two questions.
Did that first strike fail because the blade did not pierce deep enough into the spine?
And Khagan hasn't magically removed it since that initial blow because..?
Morty is rapidly climbing my list of fav ponies. I love the scenes he is in. It's nice to know the who, how, and why behind Rainbows mysterious voice back when she was saving Rocket. If he's got the power to send souls back to the land of the living, damn that's cool.
Still a little confused between the soul-to-body relationships/requirements when Morty works his magic though.
The Commander is definitely one tough ol' SOB. Wow.
Interesting to note that Rainbow stays "conscious" if Typhoon gets knocked out.
I knew it couldn't be that easy to kill Khagan, though we were all hoping for it
Would this mean Rainbow woul be permanently crippled though..? if so.. I woudl just LOVE to see the look of devastation on the Commander's face... I dunno why but I just want to see him crumble emotionally at what happened to Rainbow
Sheesh, easy there George R.R. Martin.
Um... isn't Khagan one of the immortals? Practically a deity on par with Celestia, Luna and the others? I can't imagine he'll die all that easily.
Wait, what?
... is RD's father the actual Commander Hurricane rather than a distant relation? Or what happened to Hurricane?
5339841
I imagine Celestia or Luna could just regenerate her wings, but she'd probably not have the same degree of musculature and might have to re-learn how to fly to some extent. I expect he knows full, it's just that the pain's been dumbed down in his case. After all, he's a pegasus too, without wings, isn't he?
5348055"
Just about as easy to kill as any of the rest. I imagine that it could be done, but to do so "easily" would take several excellent warriors. If they had Hurricane, Typhoon, and Cyclone all equipped with that level or armament (armor + weapons) I imagine they could take him down. Somebody took out Magnus or at least gave him a real hard time if I recall.
5348625
I don't think so, since I could have sworn Hurricane was up there in the Summer Lands. Not sure what happened to Hurricane, but evidently his body was removed long ago. Sad, really.
5336389
I get the impression that it hurts quite a bit and that he might not be up to removing it. It's also not clear whether or not that blow will be fatal. It sounds like he could technically bleed out if you sliced him up good enough and he couldn't regenerate faster than he bled out/you kept cutting him.
Whoops, sorry it took me so long before I got around to reading and commenting on this (and on the other two PoL updates). I actually speech-to-text listened to them on Sunday but couldn't get to a good interface to write a comment until now.
I so hope this plan to kill Khagan works, regardless of what the Honor Guard got up to with the tusk rot he really needs to be taken out.
Mortal is going to stick Typhoon in Dash's head? That might just be a good idea.
Arrghh, I need to know what happened!
Youch, it's been 8,000 years and I think it's still too soon for that joke.
What is right. You are my sunshine? Is the Commander singing about Celestia? About Dash?
Doh, and of course it didn't work. I'm somewhat wondering if the real plan here is to wound Khagan enough that the tusk rot has a chance to get inside him.
Well, you know, torture and kill and torture enough ponies and you'll eventually hit one that is more important than you expect.
Sunshine!?!? Dang, I already need another chapter.
5465824
Hmm... one could make the argument that what Soldier On meant was "The Commander gave a orders to the Wonderbolts that, no matter how valid Rainbow Dash's applications were, they had to turn her down."
But for the sake of argument, let's consider that your point is right. As you point out, that's a pretty obvious contradiction.
Who would you believe? Spitfire? Or Soldier On?
Mind helping me out with a question, or at least pointing me to where this is referenced?
What's the deal with empatha again, when it comes to civilian knowledge and use? If I'm not mistaken, I understand it as such so far...In modern times, the general population is not educated about its existence, so regular pegasi do not know of empatha, let alone how to wield it.
Military ponies, on the other hand, are taught and trained.
I'd like to know if I'm on the right track first, before asking anything else.
I'm sure it's mentioned somewhere in WLL, but I haven't been able to find that explanation.
5477661
The problem with a question like this, about general worldbuilding instead of specific events, is that I don't myself remember when somepony explains what you're asking about. I do remember the answer, though, so if you'll forgive me for not digging up a direct citation, I'll just tell you what you want, secure in the knowledge that it's explained somewhere (probably in Honor Guard, in the context of one of Reckoning and Rainbow's talks. Either that, or when Twilight briefly covers the subject in Snow & Shadows).
Anyway, the short answer is: yes, civilian knowledge is very rare. Empatha was never something actively suppressed in the public eye, but unlike arcana, it isn't ubiquitously useful. Outside of military applications, the most common occupation for a skilled empath was as a smith of skysteel; however, that special trade and its requisite skills died out with the advent of modern industrial skysteel production, such as that owned by Silver Lining.
Now, in theory, somepony could go to a library and find a book explaining the subject in great deal--in much the same way that you could go to the library and check out a book on cardiac-medicine or industrial architecture. Despite that availability of information, there aren't very many self-taught heart surgeons or industrial architects wandering around. It simply isn't practical, and unlike my two arbitrary examples, you can't get a formal education in empatha (except, one might argue, with a degree in Ancient Cirran history...)
5477782
No worries, I get where you're coming from. I didn't know which was easier for you.
I'm a bit surprised empatha isn't a bit more popular, if anything just for the Rule of Cool. Do performers/entertainers (not sure if Wonderbolts fits in the category, since they are a part of military already) use it for shows?
What I'm really wondering is if there are dramatically different aspects of empetha as opposed to arcana.
We know of fire abilities, ice, and the Stare. Are there other classes/talents and are all pegasi capable of learning them (albeit with personal strengths and weaknesses, like mages and arcana)?
What makes empatha so impractical anyways? Is it the abilities themselves? Or is it because of difficulty/danger/training or some other sort of factors?
From the military standpoint, are all pegasi taught empatha, or just certain ranks? What do they learn? Are the policies different for each domain?
Sorry about the question bombardment. Suddenly I'm very curious to know more. Arcana is getting very well developed, but empatha is still a bit mysterious.
Edit: Scratch that question about the types. I was lazy. Found it. Air, Earth, Water, and Fire.
Well, Mortal Coil is probably the most awesome necromancer in the history of necromancers.