War Stories

Chapters

1: New Arrival
2: Feathered Surprise
3: The Gathering Storm
4: Revelations

1: New Arrival

"Why does it always hafta be *tree saaap?*" Apple Bloom's southern drawl turned the verbal complaint into a drawn out twangy whine that managed to elicit eye-rolls from her compatriots.

Sweetie Belle grunted, as she battled a creeping wave of the sticky amber substance, shoving a table against it to no avail, "In hindsight... we probably should've asked Applejack for help with this."

The clubhouse was covered in sap; it was seeping up through the floorboards, and in through every possible crack, crevice, and cranny in the walls and ceiling. The interior looked like the site of a natural disaster, with tables overturned and materials from the Crusaders' various activities and escapades scattered to the four winds.

Scootaloo took a swipe at a glob of sap threatening to fall from the ceiling, and snorted, "How were we supposed to know that drilling into part of the tree would cause *this?*"

Applebloom shook her head, and snatched up a wad of waste paper from the trash, stuffing it into a seam between the floorboards and cutting off one of the slow geysers of gooey nastiness, "Well, if we can just stop the flow, maybe we can get cleaned up and go get Sis and Big Macintosh to help plug the leak fer good."

Scootaloo rammed her hoof into a knot in the wall, stopping a swiftly forming sap bubble from exploding into the club house, "Sounds great! Any suggestions on *how* we're going to manage this?" The sarcasm was evident in her tone, but it seemed lost on Apple Bloom, who was already deep in thought.

She placed a hoof to her chin, and squinted, weighing her options.

Just as Sweetie Belle was about to voice a warning, having nearly lost the battle with the sap she was trying to keep away from the door, Apple Bloom shouted, "Ah've got it!"

Scootaloo shook her head, "This better not be anything like the ping pong ball idea; that made it *worse!*"

Sweetie Belle snorted, "Anything would be better than your idea; drilling a 'relief hole' just made it *five times* worse!"

Apple Bloom stormed a hoof, "Girls! If We're gonna do this, we gotta do it *now!*"

The orange pegasus dipped her head, "Fine. What's this big idea of yours?"

"You know, ahm thinkin' tomorrow mornin' we can start in on the back fields."

"Eeeeyup."

Applejack smiled. Her elder brother's traditional monosyllabic response was a comforting constant of life on the farm.

She squinted into the afternoon sunlight, surveying all the bare trees that the day's bucking had left in their wake. In the distance, beside the barn, row upon row of full-to-the-brim wooden apple buckets stood as a testament to the work the brother and sister had accomplished.

The farm was a textbook scene of pastoral peace and beauty; well tended apple tree fields dotted the landscape, their green leaves ever-so-slightly gilded by the late sun, and the remaining apples glistening so tantalizingly that it was practically impossible to resist the urge to snack on one every so often.

The barn itself had a new coat of paint, a much needed improvement after the damage done by unseasonably heavy spring rain. The sheds had fared better, but AJ noted with some annoyance that several of the roofs' shingles were looking dilapidated. That would have to be patched all too soon.

As her gaze came full circle to the path leading to the North fields, Applejack spied a trio of forms cresting the hill in bedraggled sap-caked capes.

She sighed and nudged her brother, directing his gaze to the sticky troublemakers, "Hmmm. Ah reckon we might be spendin' tomorrow mornin' fixin' their new mess instead."

Big Mac shifted the sprig of straw clamped in his muzzle contemplatively, "Eeeeeeeyup."

"Whew! It was nice of your brother to offer to put in the swing for us tomorrow!" Sweetie Belle shook herself to remove a few clinging droplets of water from her mane.

Scootaloo looked up from the towel she had been drying her muzzle with and nodded emphatically, "I'll say! Right now? I'm just glad we got the sap off of *us.*"

Apple Bloom sighed contentedly, "You 'n me both. I don't think I coulda' stood the knots in mah tail for one more second!"

Sweetie Belle tossed a damp towel into the dirty laundry basket, and snorted, "Next time? We stay *away* from anything to do with drilling."

Scootaloo trundled over to the other side of the basement, and dropped her own towel on top of Sweetie Belle's, before stopping to muse for a moment, "Drilling... hmmmmm! You know, Dash told me something about a friend of hers heading out West because they struck it rich on oil! Maybe we could..."

"NO!" The response from Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom was unanimous, simultaneous, and emphatic.

Scootaloo's ears drooped, "Cutie Mark Crusaders..." she faltered as her partners in crime glowered, "...Oil ...Tycoons? ...No? Oh *fine.*"

The trio glanced sadly at their still-disheveled capes, which were stacked in a separate wooden bin beside the towels, before heading up the stairs and back into the Apple family home.

As they exited into the evening sun, Scootaloo squinted, and sighed, "Well, it looks like today was a bust. And the clubhouse is gonna be out of commission tomorrow."

Sweetie Belle shrugged, "It's ok. Rarity is going to be out all morning tomorrow gathering materials for a client! I bet if I beg, she'll let us use the kitchen at the Boutique as our temporary meeting spot!"

Apple Bloom grinned and bounced once on her hooves, "Perfect! Ah'll see you girls at the usual time then?"

Scootaloo grinned, "You betcha!"

Sweetie Belle smiled, "Of course!"

The group was on the cusp of dispersing, when a shadow fell over them, momentarily blotting out the sun before passing as swiftly as it had arrived. The three fillies turned their eyes skyward and gaped.

Slowly circling down towards the opposite side of the farmhouse was an enormous gryphon. Even at a distance, his build identified him as a mature male; his fur and feathers were golden, with brown and off-white mottling in vaguely swooping patterns that gave him a fearsome and sleek aspect.

He was clearly intent on landing at the farm, and as the Crusaders continued to wordlessly marvel, he disappeared over the barn, touching down on the side opposite them.

For several seconds there was silence, which Sweetie Belle finally broke with a question, "Are we gonna...?"

Scootaloo raised an eyebrow, "Are you seriously even asking?"

As one, the trio darted back into the barn, and hurried across to the opposite side. The door was shut, so Scootaloo gave it a light push to create a crack before the other two fillies could protest her brashness.

The maneuver paid off; the Crusaders were rewarded with a sliver of space through which to gaze, and the sound of muffled voices from the other side of the door.

Applejack, Big Mac, and the newcomer gryphon, were standing and talking some distance from the barn on the side of the hill. It was impossible to make out the particulars of the conversation, but the Apples' expressions seemed amiable enough. The gryphon, for his part, looked somewhat more sober.

He spoke for several minutes, and as he did so, Applejack's muzzle fell. Apple Bloom gasped as, finally, her big sister appeared to teeter on the verge of tears. Big Mac placed a comforting hoof across her shoulders, and said something brief to the gryphon, who nodded once.

Without further ado, the avian took flight once more, leaving Big Mac to try and comfort his sister as she did her best to keep her composure.

Scootaloo withdrew from the doorway slowly, face pensive and downcast, "Well. I didn't expect *that.*"

Sweetie Belle exhaled slowly in shock and concern, "I wonder what he said that upset your sister so much Apple Bloom..."

The filly turned to her friends, clearly shaken by her sibling's display of emotion, "I dunno... but we *have* to find out! If we can help, we gotta!"

Scootaloo nodded repeatedly, "Of course! We won't rest until we find out what that mean ol' gryphon said, and make him un-say it!"

Sweetie Belle held up a hoof, "Um... we can't stay up all night. Rarity says I have to be home before sundown. And besides, we don't know if he's mean, or if what he said was either."

The brash orange pegasus grunted her recalcitrant assent. Apple Bloom nodded, "Let me see how bad sis is in the mornin'. If things are still awful, then we'll see what we can do."

The three fillies stuck out their right hooves, and layered them one of the other, shouting in unison, "aaaaaand... Break!"

Scootaloo noticed, with some concern, that Apple Bloom's enthusiasm and happiness seemed to have been entirely drained by the sight of her sister in tears.

As the girls went their separate ways, they each resolved internally; they were going to get to the bottom of things. No matter what.

Sweetie Belle was up, and pacing the Carousel Boutique kitchen bright and early. She had blazed through her breakfast, eating so quickly that she hadn't even spoken to her sister except to bid her 'good morning.'

Rarity had since finished her own meal, cleaned the dishes, and was in the final stages of preparing the shop for an all-morning closure. Sweetie Belle noticed that she took a few extra precautions to put fragile or important items out of reach of a Crusader-sized filly.

She reflected that, while mildly insulting, her sister's actions were probably justified a thousand times over; the Crusaders had a tendency to wreck fragile things and cause enormous messes as part of their learning process.

As if on cue, Rarity poked her head into the room and clucked admonishingly, "Sweetie Belle! Whatever is the matter? Your friends will be here in due time! If you keep pacing like that you're going to wear a groove in our lovely floor tiles."

The filly grinned sheepishly, and slowed her pace slightly, "Sorry. I'm just... errr.. excited. We have a... 'special' day planned."

Rarity huffed good naturedly, "Well. Just make sure none of your 'special' ideas have anything to do with the Boutique. Keep to the kitchen please." As an afterthought, the mare hastily added, "And no cooking experiments!"

Sweetie Belle nodded, "I don't think we'll be staying here long, but I'll make sure we stick to the rules."

"Thank you. You have enough bits for lunch?"

Sweetie nodded. Her older sister mimicked the gesture, and tossed her brilliant amethyst-hued mane, "Marvelous! See you at dinner!"

The sound of her hooves on the shop's main floor was followed swiftly by the clunk of the door, and the click of the lock.

Sweetie Belle paced for several more anxious minutes, before a knock finally sounded at the door between the kitchen and the yard. She dashed over to the entryway, nearly tripping over the kitchen chairs in the process, and yanked the door open.

Scootaloo and Apple Bloom's dark expressions told her everything she needed to know, instantly, "That bad?"

Apple Bloom nodded wordlessly. Sweetie stepped aside, and her fellow Crusaders moved to sit at the kitchen table. She made a stop at the ice box to pull out some chocolate milk for herself and her friends. She knew her sister wouldn't mind if she explained that it was for a good cause; judging by the looks of things Apple Bloom needed cheering up.

After some silence, and sips of the sweet beverage, Scootaloo spoke up, filling Sweetie Belle in, "Apple Bloom said it's worse this morning. Apparently Applejack didn't sleep a wink last night, she just stayed up in the barn staring at the sky and emptying a whole keg of cider."

Sweetie Belle winced, "Wow. Sounds awful. So what are we going to do?"

Scootaloo thumped a hoof down on the table, causing their drink glasses to jump slightly and instantly eliciting everyone's attention, "I'll tell you what! I found out from Rainbow Dash where that gryphon is staying! We're gonna follow him, and find out juuuust *exactly* what he's up to."

Apple Bloom looked up from the murky chocolaty depths of her glass, "Are you sure that's such a good idea? gryphons are powerful-dangerous, and Big Mac says they're private creatures; they don't take kindly to pryin'."

Scootaloo snorted, "I'm not scared! Besides, if he didn't want us prying, then he shouldn't have said whatever he did to Applejack! I'm gonna shadow him until I know every dirty secret he ever tried to keep in his *life.* Are you guys with me?"

There was an uncertain pause. Scootaloo seized the opportunity, and put one hoof around Apple Bloom's shoulders, switching her expression from 'determined' to 'pleading,' "For Applejack?"

As she had predicted, that cinched it for her compatriots. Apple Bloom nodded sullenly. Sweetie Belle, still looking unsure, repeated the affirmative gesture, "All right. But just so long as we don't have to get too close. Did you see the *size* of his *claws?*"

Scootaloo bobbed her head in excitement, "I know, right?! They looked wicked sharp! And.." She trailed off at a severe glare from Sweetie Belle, who inclined her head at Apple Bloom. The pegasus' words had returned a measure of fear to her expression.

Scootaloo blushed, "Ah... I mean... they didn't look *so* bad. I bet we could take him if we had to."

Sweetie Belle grimaced, "Riiiiight..."

As it turned out, the mysterious visitor had been staying with Twilight in the library's guest room. The Crusaders arrived in the bushes across from the enormous hollowed-out tree just in time to see their quarry departing.

As he set off down the street, he turned and delivered parting words to Twilight. The purple mare seemed unusually sober, and the Crusaders did not fail to notice.

Scootaloo nudged Apple Bloom, "See? We'll be fine! I wonder what he said to Twilight though..."

Sweetie Belle shook her head, "Nothing good, I bet. Come on; we're losing him. If we have to do this, we might as well do it right."

The three fillies watched in silent anticipation as the gryphon strode away towards the edge of town that bordered the Everfree. The Crusaders kept to the bushes as much as possible, only daring to cross into the open when they were sure their target was far enough ahead not to notice them.

When he arrived on the edge of town, he took to the air, then dove down into the cover of the twisted, menacing foliage, before his pursuers could even think to react.

Scootaloo squinted up at the clear blue expanse, "Huh. Wonder why he went in there?"

Apple Bloom shuddered, "Miss Cheerilee told me that gryphons hafta eat *meat,* or else they'll starve."

Sweetie Belle shivered involuntarily, and made a twisted face, sticking out her tongue, "Ewwww!"

The oddity of the avian's diet was, predictably, lost on Scootaloo, who grinned, "Cooool... You have to be pretty brave to just fly into the Everfree without breaking a sweat. Especially if you plan on attacking something in there..."

Apple Bloom turned back to the path leading home, "Oh well. We can't follow him, so we might as well go on and find some lunch..."

Scootaloo nabbed her friend's tail in her mouth, clamping down before the earth pony could break into a trot. She spoke around the thick tuft of hair, "Oh no you don't! We're staying *right* here until he comes back out of there."

Apple Bloom frowned, but reluctantly took a seat on her haunches, sighing.

The three friends spent nearly half an hour waiting, splitting the time between pacing, arguing, and debating where to hide when their quarry inevitably returned.

Finally, the three settled on a spot behind a row of hedges, and settled down to wait. Their timing was fortuitous; it was less than a minute between the time the selected their hiding spot, and the time they caught sight of the gryphon.

He crested the treeline, flying low, dipped into a shallow turn, and landed at the edge of the forest. He was clearly clutching something in his claws, which the fillies quickly realized was an enormous fish.

Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle averted their eyes, but Scootaloo watched in fascination as the predatory avian neatly scaled, gutted, and de-boned the fish before devouring it swiftly and cleanly. The entire process took only a matter of minutes, and the gryphon completed it with a stunning degree of precision and civility.

While off-putting to most Ponies, a carnivorous diet was not considered immoral per se in Equine society, simply undesirable. Animals that lived in close proximity to Ponies tended to become domesticated and semi-sentient over a few generations, but animals from the wilder parts of the world were free for carnivores to eat without any moral reservation.

As the crusaders watched, the gryphon cleaned his claws in the tall grass at the edge of the forest, before setting off down the path towards town.

The moment he crested the hill and dipped out of sight, the three fillies tumbled out of the hedge, and began loping off towards the path themselves to avoid putting too much distance between them and their target.

Scootaloo was the first to reach the hill. She flattened herself to the dirt path, and inched along to the crest of the hill, peering suspiciously over the edge and down the length of the path towards ponyville.

A moment later, she recoiled in shock, then stood up outright, to the consternation of her friends, "I don't get it!"

Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom dashed to join their confused compatriot, swiftly discovering the reason for her concern; the gryphon was nowhere to be seen.

The little hill afforded a complete view of the surrounding area. There seemed to be no possible way that the mysterious visitor could have vanished, but vanished he had.

Sweetie Belle cocked her head, "Where did he go?"

Scootaloo shrugged, "Beats me." She began ruffling her under-sized wings in consternation, "Unless he... oh no..."

Sweetie Belle stiffened, "Unless he decided to fly."

Apple Bloom gulped, "We're in trouble, aren't we?"

"Indeed." The depth and resonance of the voice lent it a deeply ominous air.

The three fillies whirled simultaneously, cowering instinctively into a tight huddle as they beheld the object of their discussions standing over them, peering down with his piercing golden eyes, and a severe frown affixed to his beak.

As one, the Crusaders gulped. Of one thing they were now sure; they were done for.

Author's Note

Comments may contain spoilers, and there are plot twists.
Viewer discretion advised.

Special thanks to Callie (http://askcallie.tumblr.com/) for the cover!

2: Feathered Surprise

"It is foolish and wrong to mourn the men who died.
Rather we should thank God that such men lived."
-- General George S. Patton

Dedicated to all who have given their time, energy, and lives
on the battlefield for the sake of others.

"Perhaps you three fledglings would like to explain why you've been following me all morning?"

The gryphon dipped his head, bringing his razor-sharp yellow beak so close to the three cowering fillies that they could smell the sour fishy tang of his morning meal, and the decidedly more pleasant aroma of sun warmed feathers.

Scootaloo stammered sheepishly, "Ehh... uh... following? Us?"

Apple Bloom tried to put on an innocent smile, sweating as she did so, "Gee mister, what makes ya think that?"

The gryphon snorted, a sardonic half-smile tugging at one corner of his beak. He raised his head and shook it slowly, "Clearly you've never met a gryphon before. I can spy the fleas on the hairs of the field mice in the tall grass. On the *other* side of town. I spotted you three at the Library this morning, and there was nothing you could have done to prevent that. The question still remains; why are you following me? Has no one ever taught you that we are private creatures?"

Sweetie Belle tried to explain, but ended up tripping over her own fear, "Well, you see... See mister it's... It's kinda like this..."

Scootaloo stood, digging deep and unearthing a grain of courage, "We wanna know why you said mean things, and made Applejack sad..." she faltered as the gryphon snorted, but she had already built up momentum, so she finished her minor tirade, "And... and we want you to go back and apologize!"

The gryphon raised an eyebrow sharply, "Oh really?" The deadpan tone of his voice made it clear that he had no intention of acquiescing to the brave pegasus' latter demand.

Apple Bloom shivered. The earth pony filly looked to be on the verge of tears, from a combination of stress, fear, and disappointment, "Why did ya hafta come to tha farm and say whatcha did? I'm worried about mah sister, I ain't never seen her like this afore and I don't want her to be sad!"

The avian's stony expression instantly softened to one of understanding, "So that's what this is all about. You must be the younger sibling she spoke of."

Apple Bloom nodded wordlessly, sniffling. The gryphon sighed, and closed his eyes momentarily, his expression a mixture of understanding, concern, and frustration.

Finally, as the Crusaders managed to regain some of their composure, the visitor sighed once more, and opened his eyes, "Very well. I will explain everything, on three conditions."

Taking the fillies' curious expressions as a sign of acquiescence, the gryphon raised a claw, and counted off on three of his four gleaming talons, "First, you let me finish before you make any hasty judgements. Second, you tell me your names, and third..."

He brought his head close to the three Ponies once more, eliciting reflexive reactions of fear, "And third you stop acting like scared rabbits who have just seen a hawk. You're not in trouble, and contrary to the stupid things they probably tell you at night to make you behave, gryphons do *not* eat Ponies. Are we clear?"

Sweetie Belle nodded on behalf of the group, "Y-Yes sir."

The gryphon extended his claw, "Tharax."

Scootaloo reached forward tentatively and allowed the avian to shake her hoof. The gesture was alien to her. She was mainly surprised by the way the gryphon's grip was firm, yet the needle-points of his talons didn't dig into her hoof in the slightest.

She jerked her head at her companions, "I'm Scootaloo, this is Apple Bloom, and Sweetie Belle."

Tharax nodded once, "Charmed. Maybe next time you'll just introduce yourself first, and skip the pointless spy games."

The large gold and brown avian set off down the path without further ado, only pausing to glance over his shoulder once, "Walk with me."

Now filled with more curiosity than fear, but still a healthy dose of trepidation, the Crusaders set out after their new acquaintance.

Tharax seemed to be in no hurry to reach town, or to begin spilling his secrets. The Crusaders spent an uncomfortable five minutes of silence examining the intimidating being thoroughly for the first time.

They had never seen an adult gryphon up close before. His size was the first factor to stick in their minds; adult gryphons were nearly equal to an Alicorn in scale, and certainly matched them for stature, meaning they towered over younger Ponies.

Tharax's eyes were the next standout feature; like all gryphons' they were pools of liquid gold that seemed to burn with a limitless fire. Vying for attention with his eyes were his enormous wings, whose forms evoked sleekness and speed even when folded, and his array of sharp natural weapons.

His beak, like the scaly material of his forelegs, was yellow. The forelegs ended in claws that themselves ended in four wickedly sharp steel-colored talons; three forward digits and an opposing 'thumb.'

Unlike his front limbs, Tharax's back limbs were more leonine; the fur extended down all the way, and ended in paws which presumably hid claws to rival his talons.

Like all gryphons, Tharax had ears which were mildly similar to a horse's or a donkey's; the structures were not apparent in some younger gryphons with swoop-styled crests. The final feature that the fillies noted was that the avian's tail ended in a stunning fan of feathers, rather than a leonine tuft.

Scootaloo vaguely remembered Rainbow Dash once remarking that most gryphons' tails ended in a fan, but some had a tuft of fur instead, and that it only made a small difference in their flight control capacity.

Once the group had walked nearly half the distance back to ponyville, at a sedate pace, Tharax finally began to speak in a sober tone. His voice was rich and deep, and the timbre alone spoke to many years of experience in the harsh ways of the world.

"What have they taught you about us? About gryphon-kind? I'm not talking about silly spooky stories, or ridiculous legends; I'm talking about facts."

Scootaloo raised a hoof, "Our teacher, Miss Cheerilee, says you're a warrior race."

Tharax nodded, "So you do know that much."

Sweetie Belle hung her head, reluctantly voicing her thought even though she knew it was unlikely to go over well, "Miss Cheerilee also says war is bad. That everyone should be able to just get along all the time."

The gryphon's reaction was as unexpected as it was deafening; he let out a raucous, sardonic bark of a laugh that had hints of a raptorine bird's call buried in the low tones, "BWHAH! As nice as I'm sure she is, your teacher clearly isn't well traveled."

Scootaloo glowered, "Oh yeah? And why's that?"

Tharax stopped, and turned to face the Crusaders, eyes glittering dangerously. His tone developed an icy, serious edge, "Because I agree, it is nice when everyone gets along... But out there?" He gestured with a wing to the Everfree, and then to the north, "Beyond your peaceful and blissfully unaware little kingdom, there are monsters that would put your scariest campfire stories to shame. There are enemies who do things I can't repeat to you, because you're too young to even begin to comprehend such degrading atrocities. They will *never* be your friends, and they will *never* stop hunting the peaceful and innocent races of the world."

Tharax began walking again. It took the wide-eyed fillies several moments to regain their faculties, and join him. He continued, the menace gone from his voice, replaced by a somber surety, "Among my kind, this day out of every year is known as 'Warriors' Day.' We celebrate those who serve, especially those who have made the ultimate sacrifice."

Sweetie Belle cocked her head, "Ultimate sacrifice?"

Tharax nodded, "Those who have died on the battlefield, so that we might live."

The words shook the fillies deeply; death was not an oft-discussed subject in their lives, and the idea of death in battle was utterly alien. War itself was a word only whispered in hushed stories by adults around the dinner table, once the little fillies and colts had all been put safely to bed.

The gryphon, at last, filled the silence once more, "Yes; we are a race of warriors. Our life consists of finding, and killing, all the horrors, and evils in this world. We hunt those who would hunt the innocent for their own gain. We hunt the 'things that go bump in the night,' so that fillies like you can grow up in a peaceful place like this and enjoy the simple, noble pleasures of life."

Apple Bloom spoke up, staring into Tharax's eyes with a mixture of wonderment, fear, and sadness, "Dontcha ever get tired of fightin' and... dyin'?"

Tharax shook his head slowly, "War has its share of pains. We feel them as keenly as anyone. But we are born predators; from the moment we are hatched we live to see justice, and truth, and liberty triumph over the dark forces of the world. We do what we do happily; it is who we are, and we would never have it any other way. War is not the only aspect of our culture and lives. But it is central."

Scootaloo grimaced, "Miss Cheerilee doesn't think much of foals who like to fight."

Tharax chuckled sadly, "Your teacher, for her naïveté, is in some ways wise. *Why* you fight is just as important as the desire to fight, and the will to go on fighting. There are right reasons, and wrong reasons. Right times, and wrong times."

Sweetie Belle shook her head in confusion, "I think my head is starting to hurt. What does any of this have to do with what you said to Applejack?"

Tharax sighed deeply, and paused, before speaking again, "I'm not sure your parents, or your teacher, would approve of this... I'm going to tell you a story. My story; or at least, an important part of it."

Scootaloo snorted in frustration, and her usual impatience, "But how does that—?"

Tharax cut her off, raising a claw, "You need to learn patience, and trust. I promise it will all make sense in the end. But I have to start at the beginning."

The gryphon took the fillies' silence, once again, as acquiescence, and took a deep breath, "gryphons live a long time. The oldest pony I've ever met was two hundred. We usually live to be three hundred, and we age quite differently then you do. More like Dragons. I myself am two hundred and seven."

Apple Bloom's jaw hung open, "Whoooaaa..." All three Crusaders' eyes widened considerably; Tharax was a year older than Granny Smith, but didn't look a day over fifty by Equine standards.

The gryphon nodded, "This all happened when I was younger; only eighty or so... It began in the spring of that year. Warring Tribes of diamond dog trolls had found their way to the Northernmost mountains and deserts of Zebrica. They came to the continent seeking mineral wealth and, as trolls are always wont to do, they fell into civil war over who would have the Dragon's share of the treasures they unearthed...."

"My sister had a run in with a group of trolls once. She said they were mean and nasty."

Tharax raised an eyebrow at Sweetie Belle's interruption, "And she survived?"

Sweetie Belle nodded. Tharax raised his other eyebrow, "Unharmed?" The filly nodded again.
The gryphon shook his head slowly, "Your sister was indeed blessed. trolls like to kidnap young female unicorns to act as 'pointers' to gem deposits, slave labor in their mines, and to... render other services."

Scootaloo wrinkled her muzzle. The euphemism sounded like the phrases stallions were always using for bad things that Dash constantly refused to explain to her.

Tharax gazed down the short remainder of the path into town, and resumed the narrative.

"The trolls were, at first, only bickering amongst themselves; the zebra tribes were content to let them cut each other down to size and have that be the end of it. But things did not go so smoothly. The trolls were far north, and their fighting awoke something in the depths of the mountains. Ancient spirits of evil. Wendigos.

Scootaloo stopped walking and held up a hoof, "Wait... aren't wendigos winter spirits? And aren't they just a myth?"

Tharax's eyes drilled into the filly's own; she could almost see the images from his memory projected within them, so intense was his gaze. In that moment, she had no doubt that everything she had ever learned about monsters and evil spirits was a half-truth, at best.

The gryphon spoke slowly, "Wendigos are more than simple myths of olden Ponies. They are true evil spirits; neither living nor dead, and without proper bodies of their own. They feed off of discord, strife, fear, despair, prejudice, hopelessness, and hatred. They are most commonly seen in the frozen north, true, but there have been small enclaves unearthed from a sort of suspended hibernation in other places. Particularly within mines; their spirits inhabit certain types of crystals very easily."

Apple Bloom shivered, "And the diamond dogs unearthed some in the mountains?"

Tharax nodded, "Their greed awakened the wendigos. It was the largest enclave in recent memory; there were millions of them, slumbering in the crystals of a forgotten cavern that should have *stayed* forgotten."

Scootaloo cocked her head quizzically, "But if they don't have bodies, then why are they dangerous?"

"For three reasons. First; they have lost their souls and minds to wild magic, but this gives them great power over it. They can control the weather and the environment on a colossal scale. Second; they have the ability to foster more and more negative emotions in most others, particularly Ponies and diamond dogs, as they feed. Lastly, once they become powerful enough, they can take over the corpses of any slain Equines, and use their forms to continue their conquest."

Sweetie Belle gasped in horror, and stammered, "A-Are you sure you should be telling us all this?"

Tharax raised an eyebrow once more, his tone emotionless, "You asked."

Scootaloo stomped a hoof, "So what if some of the grownups think we're not old enough for this?! I want to hear the story!"

The gryphon nodded again, "And so you shall. This is where I come in..."

"The wendigos quickly turned the diamond dogs' civil war, into a violent massacre. They then drove the survivors into a wild frenzy, sending them down out of the mountains to lay waste to the nearest zebra tribes and villages. With the power gained from all the fear, bloodshed, and sorrow, they began to possess the... 'remains' of the zebras, creating an army eight-hundred thousand strong overnight."

"The zebra are fierce in battle, but most of their armies and larger tribes were too far south to hope to stem the tide of the slaughter. By the time they could all be marshalled, and marched four thousand stadia north, the wendigos would have taken over enough bodies, and gained enough power, to wipe them all out. Something had to be done sooner. A call was put out to any who would volunteer to aid the surviving Northern tribes in forming an army, and defeating the menace."

"I was there, having journeyed to Zebrica with my closest friend and a large entourage on a mission of friendship from our King to the Zebrican tribes. We have always been allies with pony and zebra kind, but often distance and the oddities of our culture keep us separate. We wanted to change that. Naturally, when the wendigos struck, every last one of us gryphons volunteered our aid; but we were only ninety in number."

"In the end, it came down to us, the remaining two thousand soldiers of the Zebrican Northern tribes, and a few hundred Ponies from a contingent of Royal Guard irregulars sent to keep watch on the diamond dog squabbles, who bravely volunteered as well. In total we were exactly three thousand and fifty two strong against an army of hundreds of thousands, backed by millions more of their noncorporeal brethren. The odds were, to say the least, abysmal. To make matters worse, we were mostly ill-equipped..."

Tharax knit his brow as he stared down at the rend in the armor plate. He shook his head slowly, looking up at the zebra who had brought it in, "Unfortunately, this is a serious break. And worse, this is untreated leather backing, with a thin bronze facing. Very weak; hard to repair and not worth the effort. We'll have to start over on this one."

The gryphon hefted the Equine-shaped chest-plate, and tossed it into a growing pile of disheveled useless gear that was slated to be scrapped and melted down to help form the basis for new stopgap armor and weapons.

"They mean well, but most of their knowledge seems to lie in Potions and Magical artifacts. They lack the armor-making skills of their southern brothers and sisters."

Tharax looked up to see his friend; a russet and off-white gryphoness named Lyris, entering the tent on her hind legs; forelegs full of more scrap gear.

He nodded morosely, "I would give *anything* to have just one of our own armorers here, and a decently made forge."

Lyris dipped her head in agreement as she thrust her load of useless armor plates onto the pile, "At least we have our own armor, God be praised, and the Ponies seem to have far fewer problems with theirs."

Tharax hummed contemplatively, "Yeeees, but their gear is still not ideal. Nothing like the standard issue alloy plating, gold sheathed stuff we make for the regular guards."

Lyris shrugged, "We work with what we have. As always."

Tharax sighed, and followed Lyris out of the tent. The encampment was mostly made up of similar canvas structures laid out in a radiating pattern from the base of a small stone tower. The watchtower overlooked a narrow treacherous mountain pass between two of the tallest nearby peaks, and the encampment filled the entire path at its widest point below the tower.

The gryphons glanced up at an ominous rumble of thunder. To the south, the sky was perfectly clear. To the north, however, it was a broiling mess of black thunderheads, tinged with the sharp white of constant lightning, the dull gray of snow cyclones, and even the occasional band of orange as sand was swept into the morasse.

Tharax grunted, "We have less than a day."

Lyris shook her head, "If that. But we only have to hold for a short time. Come; there is a strategy meeting shortly."

"Oh? And who organized this on the spur of the moment?"

The gryphoness grinned and winked, "Who else? *You* never organized anything off of the battlefield a day in your life."

Tharax stood glaring in disapproval for a moment, before loping to catch up with his friend, muttering, "Of all the times for levity..."

The meeting ended up consisting of two zebra, two Ponies, and two gryphons; the most senior officers of each race.

Both zebra looked to be veteran clan chieftains; their tall head-dresses, ornate armor, and myriad battle scars bespoke the many conflicts which they had doubtless survived. As if these visual cues were not enough, both also wore ornate neckbands fashioned from gold, jade, and the claw-bones of slain trolls.

Tharax noted the Ponies' garb and distemper with less optimism; while serviceable looking, their simple unadorned steel chainmail armor was a pittance of protection compared to the gryphons' masterful, sleek, plate-alloy and hardened leather garb, or the zebras' unique onyx and jade armor.

One of the Ponies was male; a strong earth pony specimen; but most of his musculature seemed to stem from an agrarian life. He could likely hit with great force, in Tharax's estimation, but in all the wrong places and ways for combat.

The other pony was a female pegasus; she looked swift, even acrobatic, but again Tharax had his doubts. pegasus acrobatics were often short on agility and practicality; an art form, not suited to combat. Their speed was incredible, outstripping any other living creature, but it only applied in a more-or-less straight line, and their endurance was abysmal when compared to any other flighted species.

Both Ponies looked far too at-ease. The gryphon privately wondered if they had ever seen combat even once in their lives. If they had any concept of the horrors they would soon face.

As he and Lyris entered, the male earth pony was the first to greet them. His manner was almost jovial. The concept of such simple optimism before battle was not unusual among gryphons, but that was because they did not fear death. Tharax worried that the pony's happy temperament was born purely of ignorance.

The Equine smiled, and dipped his head, "I'm Malus. You must be Tharax, and Lyris. This is my division lieutenant Poma," he gestured to the pegasus with one hoof, and she smiled at the two gryphons each in turn, "And the Zebrican chieftans Utamak and Nicoram."

Tharax nodded, "I wish we could have met under better circumstances."

He stepped to the center of the tent, and his compatriots gathered in a circle around the central circular wooden camp table. Its aged gray wood was a product of the tall, skinny plains trees that the zebra often fashioned into tools and furniture. On it, a papyrus map was spread out. Tharax could not read the Zebrican glyphs, but he had overflown the landscape enough to know all the features of the topography inside and out.

He tapped the pass where their encampment was stationed with a single claw, "The narrow cliffs give us the advantage over the ground-walkers. But the funnel effect created by the rocks will make it easier for the spirits to turn the weather against us."

Poma raised a hoof, without taking her eyes off the parchment, "We have a dozen other Pegasi in our ranks; together, we might be able to dampen the storm, even wrestle parts of it under our own control."

Tharax blinked in surprise; the stratagem was sound, indeed it would have been his next suggestion had the gung-ho pegasus not beat him to it.

She shrugged, and grinned sheepishly, "Use what you've got, right? We're not skilled warriors, but almost all Pegasi learn at least some weather manipulation. We even have a few veteran storm-breakers in our ranks."

Lyris grinned, and nudged Tharax with one wing, "I like her style." The gryphoness smiled at Poma, "My only suggestion is that you split off part of your division to keep our exit clear of cyclones; we will need to retreat as soon as the clock runs out."

Utamak nodded, "Though our forces are weak, we need only hold for a day.. After that, refuge we may seek from the fray."

Tharax inscribed a wide semicircle on the map, "This is our first line of defense; a thin rank of earth Ponies. When the wendigo ground-walkers attack, they will only put up minimal resistance. Ideally, the line caves inwards in the first five minutes, fostering the appearance of a full rout."

Lyris grinned, and gestured to the canyon walls, "*Our* forces will be hiding in the crevices of the rock here. When the ground-walkers charge into the breach they think they've created, we will dive on their flanks and crush their initial charge."

Malus grunted contemplatively, "Hmm. Two of our unicorns are master illusionists; they can conjure false images and make our secondary divisions seem much larger than they actually are."

Lyris squawked in triumph, "Perfect! With any luck at all, the ground-walkers will fall back, and let the storm carry on ahead of them..."

Poma slammed a hoof into the table, "And then we hit them from high above, and turn their own weather against them!"

Tharax nodded slowly, his mood rising, "...Giving us the chance to establish a new defensive line, which might hold for several hours if we're blessed, and the wind is with us."

Lyris gestured to the watch tower, "If we station archers here, then we can begin slowly ceding ground once the line begins to weaken, drawing them into another killzone. After that, we should begin evacuating all but a few volunteers. gryphons and Pegasi only; we will cover for the ground division's escape, and then make use of our flighted advantage to outrun the storm, *and* the enemy, to rejoin the main force."

Nicoram spoke up, "Most of my warriors' armor is damaged; we have been fighting for a week, and we are at a disadvantage.."

Lyris gestured over her shoulder, "Sadly we don't have any especially skilled armorers with us, but those with any talent at all have set up an impromptu forge. We're doing our best to cobble together whatever we can for your soldiers."

Utamak hummed in approval, "Some spare materials we have, and armorers too, these we will gladly lend to you."

Tharax nodded once more, "It's settled then. May we all live to see the dawn, or die well and bravely before the sun sets."

Scootaloo tilted head head in confusion, "But... why was the tower so important? Was it really worth.. eugh... *dying* for?"

Tharax shook his head, "War isn't always about holding onto every tower, every trench, and every field. We only wanted to hold for a day, and that was to protect Utamak's city. They needed time to fortify and prepare for the onslaught; shore up gates, sandbag walls, stockpile arrows, and evacuate anyone who could not lift a blade. That was where the deciding battle would be fought, but only if we could hold the pass long enough."

Apple Bloom's eyes widened, "And did ya? Did ya hold fer a whole *day*?"

Tharax looked up, and saw that he had arrived at his first destination. The group had made it all the way to ponyville's market square; the space was lined with many a stand selling everything from cookware and plow blades, to food.

"I need to stop here and see to some preparations." Without any further explanation, the gryphon approached one of the stands, leaving the Crusaders to stand in bewilderment and impatient curious fervor.

Tharax nodded to the stand's proprietor, a young male earth pony, and smiled slightly, "Greetings. Your sign says that you provide food for events.. I was wondering if I might engage your services."

The pony eyed the gryphon with a mixture of disdain and suspicion, "Can I ask what for?"

Tharax stiffened slightly, "I am here for Warriors' Day, and.."

The pony interrupted him by wordlessly flipping his sign from 'open' to 'closed.' Tharax glared, but the stubborn Equine merely shook his head, "I don't do business with the likes of you. The world has enough troubles in it without you 'fighters' looking for more."

Tharax hissed reflexively, a sound that promptly shattered the pony's arrogance, replacing it with sheer terror. The gryphon instantly regained his composure, and left the shuddering Equine with a parting steely 'drop dead' glare, before returning to the three fillies, who were all standing in open-mouthed amazement.

Sweetie Belle found her voice first, "What was *that* all about?"

Tharax grunted in disdain, "Some of your kind have let peace and prosperity turn them into fools. Not everyone in this world appreciates the necessity of war, or the sacrifices we make to fight it."

The gryphon sighed, "I am afraid I'm at a loss now. I need a large quantity of food, by this evening, for a gathering, and I do not know the vendors in this town very well."

Apple Bloom perked up, "Gathering... you mean like a party or somethin'?"

The gryphon snorted, a mixture of amusement, and sadness, "I... suppose you could call it that. Why?"

Scootaloo grinned, "I think we know *just* the place. Come on; you can tell us more on the way."

Sweetie Belle nodded rapidly, "Yeah! *Did* you manage to hold for a whole day?!"

Rather than answer, Tharax began to follow the fillies at a sedate pace, picking up where he had left off, "We spent our time wisely; the impromptu forges managed to turn out a surprising amount of armor, and our division spent some time giving refresher training to the Ponies. Most had never faced a truly difficult opponent, in training *or* combat, so the practice was sorely needed. We formed our battle lines just as the storm crested the peaks..."

"The first sign that they were upon us was the sleet. Only seconds after that, the wind picked up, and lightning began to strike all around. Then the ground-walkers came. The stomping of their hooves shook the earth; from where I was, I could see that the line of the undead stretched along the pass, and out of my sight around a bend. Over a stadia in distance..."

Tharax shifted slightly, as he watched the first ground-walkers come within shouting distance of the first pony battle lines, and stop. He knew from past battles that such actions signified preparation for a charge. He went over his armor and weapons a final time.

His primary weapon of choice was a battle axe; unconventional for a gryphon, but by no means unheard-of. They possessed more than enough strength to wield them with both precision, and force.

His second weapon was a light folding compound bow; a leather quiver full of sleek, hollow, single-molded-piece steel arrows was slung at his back beside the axe.

His armor, like that of most gryphon Knights, was of his own personal design; conceived and forged under the guiding claws of master armorers from the capital city itself. It was painted mostly gunmetal gray, with chrome-like trim; in reality the surface was mostly thin layers of secondary metal for decorative purposes. The majority of the actual plating beneath was Gryphic alloy; unrivaled in all the world for durability in combat.

Atop his head sat a sort of half helm, with space for his ears. The rest of his armor covered mainly vital areas; chest, back, shins of all four legs, and the joints of his wings. Most gryphons preferred light armor to keep their native speed, agility, and flexibility intact as battlefield assets.

Tharax watched grimly, as the ground-walkers massed for their charge. They were mostly composed of zebras slain in the northern cities; their flesh had long since dropped away on the march south, and now they were merely walking skeletons adorned with rags of clothing and miscellaneous armor plates.

Their eyes glowed with an evil inner light; an ominous sickly purple hued luminescence that seemed to radiate fear and decay.

They made a sound like the noise of wind rushing across a crevice in the mountains, combined with the distant death-screams of those they had slain to acquire their ill-gotten forms.

When they had whipped themselves into a sufficient frenzy, the charge began. The thunder of their bony hooves mixed with the thunder from the oncoming storm, and the rattle of the sleet on armor plates, to create a din that was overpowered only by their eerie call, and the battle cries of the brave Ponies below.

When the armies collided, the sound was so loud that Tharax wondered if creation itself could have been any more spectacularly deafening. The collision of warriors literally shook the ground, to the point that the gryphon felt the tremor in his secluded hiding place, hundreds of yards back and dozens of feet above the melee.

It had begun.

3: The Gathering Storm

"So *this* is your recommendation?" Tharax raised an eyebrow incredulously, and gestured with one claw towards the building. It could only be described as a gingerbread house come to life, with zany asymmetrical architecture and a construction that appeared, for all the world, to be based off of sweet treats held together with icing and syrup.

Apple Bloom smiled and nodded, "Eeeyup!"

Sweetie Belle smiled sheepishly, "We're good friends with someone who works here."

Scootaloo chuckled, "Pinkie Pie never met *anypony* who she didn't eventually make friends with."

Tharax inclined his head, "She sounds... outgoing."

Apple Bloom exhaled slowly, "Mister, you have no idea."

The moment the group set hoof and claw inside the door, Pinkie was all over them. "HI! I've never seen *you* here before! We don't get many gryphons in ponyville... Its mostly Ponies here, *duh!* I guess it wouldn't be called ponyville if it was mostly gryphons. Its really great to meet you! I'm Pinkie Pie! What's *your* name!?"

The words tumbled out so quickly that they blurred together into one nearly indiscernible explosion of jolly salutation.

The gryphon looked somewhat dazed, but answered all the same, "I'm Tharax. Pleasure to meet you."

The bright pink-on-pink pony leapt into the air and shouted, "Yay! We get to have a welcome party for a gryphon!"

Tharax's ears reflexively pinned back as the din of Pinkie's celebration continued, "Actually, I was referred to you by these three fledglings. They told me that you might be willing to prepare food for a gathering I'm hosting this evening."

Pinkie stopped bouncing momentarily, and tilted her head, "A Gathering?" She gasped, "You mean, like a *surprise* party?!"

The gryphon shook his head, "No, not precisely. Could we perhaps talk in private?"

The pink party pony stared in confusion momentarily, before her jovial manner abruptly resurfaced, "Okie dokie Loki!" She bounced towards the back of the shop, "This way! You can taste test some of my new cinnamon buns too!"

Once the pair had made their way into the kitchen, Scootaloo voiced the shared thoughts of the Crusaders, "I'm not sure which of them I'm more scared for..."

Apple Bloom nodded, "You said it. Tho they seemed ta hit it off *pretty* well..."

Sweetie Belle flopped onto a stool and stuck a hoof to her chin, "What kind of 'gathering' do you suppose he's planning?"

Scootaloo shrugged, "He said he's here for 'Warriors' Day.' Maybe he's celebrating that?"

Apple Bloom began to pace, "Yeah, but who's he gonna celebrate with? I don't think we have any warriors in ponyville."

Sweetie Belle spun her stool so she could face her friends, "Maybe he's invited some warriors from somewhere else?"

Scootaloo squinted and drummed a front hoof absently, "Mmmmaybe... But then why come all the way to ponyville?"

Before the fillies could speculate further, the gryphon returned, Pinkie Pie in tow. To their astonishment, her usual high-energy joviality seemed almost subdued. She was, however, still smiling, "I'll see you at seven sharp then!"

Tharax nodded, "Yes. And thank you again miss Pie."

She waved a hoof at him, "Noooo problem!"

The Crusaders and the gryphon exited Sugarcube Corner in silence. Once they were back on the street, Tharax took the lead again. He seemed to have a new destination in mind. Scootaloo only allowed the silence to pass for a moment, before working up the courage to speed up, and walk alongside the gryphon.

He didn't seem to take the hint, so she cleared her throat. Tharax rolled his eyes, "Very well. You wanted to know if we held..."

"The first ranks of earth Ponies did your nation proud, especially given how inexperienced they were. What they lacked in battle-readiness, they very nearly made up for with courage and dedication alone. But the plan was never for them to hold for any length of time and so, on the agreed signal, they broke ranks and galloped back down the canyon..."

Tharax tightened his grip on the axe haft, and began to mentally count down from ten. The thunder of hooves, living and dead, in the pass below left a dull ringing in the air that he could feel in his beak and claws.

At last, the moment came. He said a quick prayer, and launched himself from the crevice silently. As he tucked his wings, and began to hurtle downwards at gravity's behest, he saw that the rest of the gryphons were springing from their places of concealment in the same manner.

The ground, and with it the churning mass of ground-walkers, sped towards him at what felt like impossible velocities. He had to resist a primal urge to sound a battle cry; surprise was one of their chief allies.

He slammed into the first ten ranks of wendigos from the side, swinging his axe as he did so. The momentum from his stoop allowed him to smash nearly a dozen of the dessicated skeletons at once, scattering the bones to the four winds.

As swiftly as he could, he vaulted back into the air, and flipped away from the crush so as to avoid becoming ensnared. As he landed, he embedded his axe in the skull of an enemy, and propelled his wing-joint plate into another, sending its head flying.

Tharax continued the pattern of half-flying, half vaulting his way across the battlefield, cleaving and hacking as he went with expert precision.

Within a matter of minutes, the ground-walkers' charge was completely broken. Tharax found Lyris in the midst of the fray, and together they began to cut an incision into the center of the wendigo ranks, sowing confusion and making it more difficult for them to regroup.

Not long after they began the endeavor, a horn sounded from the top of the watch tower. Once more the beat of hooves shook the ground, but this time it was a measured marching cadence.

With a roar, the secondary pony divisions crested a rise in the path, appearing hundreds of thousands strong, and sounding quite the part, thanks to the efforts of the unicorn illusionists.

To Tharax's gryphon eyes and brain, the trickery was fairly easy to detect, but the wendigos seemed to be fooled. If they had any power to sense life force, then they were too far from the steadily oncoming troops to use it to any effect.

The gryphons swiftly pulled away, and the wendigos did likewise, leaving a quarter mile gap in the pass. Tharax knew it was merely a temporary reprieve, and the moment he touched down, he began shouting orders, "Re-form behind the secondary pickets! Send divisions to cover the flanks, and pull the weaker tired lines back behind the fresh troops!"

"...The storm arrived with unexpected swiftness and fury. We had precious little time to regroup, and the wind and hail made coordination difficult. Not long after the storm came the long and drawn out, bloody, main battle. To fight for hours on end, without reprieve or hope of respite, is perhaps the greatest test of endurance that a creature can ever be put through. The wendigos were tireless, numberless, and had no regard for their own safety. We were few in number, exhausted, and most of the troops were ill equipped and ill trained. Nonetheless, we stood our ground; the watch tower was a blessing, and we made a good account of ourselves."

After a long silence, Scootaloo nudged Tharax's foreleg with a hoof, "That can't be the end?! What about the army of wendigos?"

Tharax raised an eyebrow, "Patience is not one of your strong suits, is it fledgling?"

Apple Bloom knit her brow, "Why do ya keep callin' us that? 'Fledgling?' "

The gryphon sighed, "Ah, forgive me. I forget that the terms are different for you. Fledgling is the word we gryphons use for the young. As opposed to hatchling, which denotes a very very young gryphon, not long out of the egg."

Sweetie Belle's eyes widened, "Egg?"

Tharax nodded, "Egg. Like all avian life, we hatch from eggs. Unlike most other creatures in this world, however, our eggs are cut from a rare kind of crystal agate, rather than laid."

Scootaloo looked incredulous, "You... hatched... out of a rock?"

The gryphon laughed, the first time any of the Crusaders had seen him appear so agreeable, and so happy, "Yes, and no. It becomes much more when a mated pair nest with it. You would call it magic, though it is not any sort of spell like one of your mages might conjure. Our kind does not cast magic; we can not wield it at all, but neither can it affect us. Just as, through tempering in a furnace, a sword becomes immune to heat, we are initially forged by magic, and therefore we become immune to it."

Tharax paused, and turned to see the three fillies staring in shock, "Well... Obviously they don't teach you much of anything about us in school. Perhaps before I leave you'll introduce me to your teacher. I have some words of... 'admonishment' for her."

The gryphon nodded at the building ahead, "I have another task to complete, I will only be a moment."

The three friends looked on in curiosity, as Tharax approached the side of the building, where an older earth pony was hard at work with a chisel and a large block of granite. They could not hear what was said, but they were surprised when the stonemason offered the gryphon a stiff, smart salute with one hoof.

Apple Bloom raised an eyebrow, "What do ya s'pose *that* was all about?"

Scootaloo shook her head, "I dunno. I'm still trying to get over the fact that he *hatched* out of a *rock.*"

"Why is that so surprising? We know *you* have all the intelligence of a rock..." The feminine, and saccharine voice came from behind.

It was swiftly accompanied by another, similarly grating vocalization, "...And that you obviously hatched. All chickens do..."

"...So how about you tell us what new silly foalishness you're up to today?"

"Still working on those blank flanks?"

The Crusaders didn't even have to turn to see the newcomers. The voices of their resident class bullies, Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon, were instantly recognizable, if for no other reason than their uniquely priggish qualities.

Scootaloo glowered, "We're busy today girls. Sorry."

Diamond Tiara raised one eyebrow incredulously, "Oh? What could *you* three possibly have to do that's of any importance?"

Apple Bloom stomped a hoof, "Fer yer information, we're showin' around a guest, and he's tellin' us a story."

Silver Spoon snickered, nudging her partner in crime with a hoof, "A bedtime story. And in the middle of the day too." She leaned in conspiratorially and spoke in an exaggerated mock whisper, "Do you suppose they have... A condition?"

Diamond Tiara nodded emphatically, putting on her best 'expert' air, "It's the *only* explanation."

Sweetie Belle sighed in exasperation, "For your *information,* we *are* escorting a guest, he's right over..." Her voice trailed off as she shifted her gaze to the building, "...There?"

Neither Tharax nor the stonemason were anywhere to be seen.

Apple Bloom spun around in confusion, "Wuh... well where'd he go?!"

Diamond Tiara smirked, "See? Delusional. I *knew* it all along."

Silver Spoon sneered, "Their brains are as blank as their flanks!"

The pair of twits began to laugh; a harsh discordant judgemental sound. But their reverie was brought up short by the sound of a deep voice clearing its throat. The sound was so guttural, that it practically rattled Diamond Tiara's titular chapeu right off her head.

The two young bullies gulped in unison, and slowly spun to behold the source of the nightmare inducing rumble.

Tharax stood, beak inches from their muzzles, eyes slicing them apart right down to the marrow of their souls. He paused just long enough for them to achieve full comprehension of the proverbial scat they had stepped in, before unleashing a wall of sound.

The call was mostly like a predatory bird's hunting keen, but had a healthy mixture of the roar of a lion, or manticore, in its bass.

It was so loud, it seemed to nearly propel the pugnacious fillies backwards. They froze momentarily under the onslaught of sound issuing from the gryphon's wide-open menacing beak, before their instincts finally kicked in and they darted off down the road; ears flat, tails tucked, stumbling over each other and blubbering nonsense in their abject terror.

Scootaloo stared in silence and shock for upwards of fifteen seconds before speaking at last, "That... was... so... AWESOME!"

Tharax shrugged, "I can not abide bullies. Sometimes the only way to deal with them is to put a little fear and respect back into their perception of life. Forcibly."

Sweetie Belle shook herself, and worked a hoof in each of her ears, "What *was* that?"

The gryphon set off walking once more, and the Crusaders dutifully fell in beside him, "A battle call. In some cases, it has been known to cause entire enemy armies to break ranks and flee in terror, if enough of us are present to shake the ground."

Apple bloom shook her head slowly, "Ah've never seen those two so afraid fer anythin' before!"

Tharax raised an eyebrow, "Are you truly surprised? You are a species of herbivorous herd animals. I am a predator. In a display such as what you witnessed, instinct plays a large role; it takes either a close social bond, or a great deal of courage, for a prey animal to banish fear in the presence of an angry predator. I get the impression those two have no great abundance of social bonds, *or* courage."

Sweetie Belle grimaced, "We won't argue that one."

Apple Bloom glanced up at the gryphon, a memory surfacing, "What was that salutin' thing all about? With you 'n the stonemason?"

Tharax dipped his head slightly, "He is one of the few warriors in your community. He fought in a conflict older than your lifetimes put together; few now living in your kind remember, and even fewer wish to know. The bond shared by those who have experienced conflict is nearly universal, and almost unbreakable."

Scootaloo stared down at the path in confusion, "I didn't think we had any warriors in ponyville.."

The gryphon stopped and glowered slightly, "Are you really so surprised that they are recalcitrant to reveal their past? Your culture is not kind to those who have made this particular sacrifice; all you see is the fear and blood and tears of war. No one stops to think about what it purchases for you, or the more noble qualities that it can instill into a warrior."

Sweetie Belle frowned, "Mostly I suppose it's because people aren't ever taught."

Scootaloo brightened, "But you're teaching us! Maybe you can teach others?"

Tharax sighed and tilted his head back and forth, "Perhaps. Perhaps not. We shall see."

After several more moments of amiable silence, Apple Bloom began prodding, "Well? Aren't ya gonna finish tha story?"

The gryphon sighed, and nodded, "Our strength was waning, but the dawn was coming..."

"...We could not see it for the storm, but I had been counting the hours, and I knew that we didn't have to hold for much longer. It was high time for retreat too; we had started to loose ground more swiftly, as each moment we retained the precious yards of dirt cost ever more lives..."

Tharax winced as his axe connected with another enemy, sending shockwaves of pain running through his shoulder. Hours before, he had taken a hit to the joint; the wendigos had sharpened the ends of their purloined body's hooves. He had succeeded in fending off the aggressor, but part of the hoof was still lodged in his shoulder.

It made flight slower, and more painful, in addition to limiting how often he could follow through certain strokes without causing undue damage to the affected muscles.

He had long since been separated from Lyris, who had taken on the role of defending the critically injured as they escaped the battlefield. The ground-walkers had a habit of intentionally singling out the wounded to swarm without warning.

As the gryphon managed to get back into the air, a group of Ponies caught his eye. They were mostly earth Ponies, with a single unicorn desperately trying to conjure protective enchantments for the entire bunch against a tremendous onslaught of ground-walkers.

The group had become separated from the main force. Cut off; a death sentence to beings bound by gravity. Tharax could see that Malus was leading the group, and doing far more than anyone would have the right to expect from an inexperienced earth pony.

He could also see that it wasn't enough of an advantage to free the trapped warriors; their lives would be forfeit in a matter of moments.

Against his better judgement, Tharax tucked his wings and dove to assist the stragglers. His arrival was swift, blunt, and destructive enough to clear away some of the closest wendigos. The action was painful, but it bought the warriors enough time to have a slim chance.

Malus managed to find time to speak, in between bucking away his opponents with his incredibly strong back legs, and the deadly blades attached to their hoofguards, "Good to see you again! We appreciate the help!"

Tharax was swiftly amending his estimation of Malus; the brave Equine was still grinning like a mad creature as he fought to keep a last sliver of hope for his life. The gryphon returned the expression, "You're a farmer? You missed your calling; with a little training you could actually be *good* at this."

Malus snorted, "Says the one with the bone shard embedded in his shoulder."

Tharax raised an eyebrow, and simultaneously decapitated two enemies with a single stroke, "And how *many* of these have *you* slain today?"

The pony stomped a hoof proudly as he released another round of surprisingly furious kicks, "Thirty seven!"

The gryphon smiled slyly, "I lost count after four hundred and seventy two."

Malus' expression swiftly morphed into an appropriate mixture of respect, and morbid surprise. He whistled, grunting as a glancing strike deflected off his armor, "You really are a race of warriors, aren't you?"

Tharax nodded grimly as he parried with his axe, "Born and raised."

As the pair continued to fight to keep Malus' detachment alive, the gryphon began to once again fear for their lives. His advent had certainly helped, both in providing breathing room for the beleaguered Ponies and in boosting their morale, but ultimately there were still too many ground-walkers in between them and the freedom of the pass.

To make matters worse, the weather had continued to foul; the wind was making flying incredibly difficult, especially flying away from the battle, or above a certain height. Hail and sleet were sheeting down like a thousand tiny wasps, pinging off of armor and bone alike incessantly.

The driving precipitation mixed with the low hanging clouds, fog, and the smoke of trenches that had been set ablaze, to create a nigh impenetrable wall of murk that only gryphons and Pegasi had any hope of seeing through.

Malus had apparently come to the same conclusion, "You don't have to stay with us! We volunteered the same as you!"

Tharax shook his head, "Part of being a warrior species! We're stubborn and loyal... to the death."

Malus shook his head emphatically, and ducked a swipe from a sharpened hoof, "They're short of good fighters as it is! They'll *need* you!"

The gryphon snorted, and spun his axe in a swift semicircle, "I've never been one to put logic above emotion! I won't leave a fight unless I'm the last one out!"

The pony wrinkled his muzzle, "And you think *I'm* crazy?"

As the contingent's breathing room began to diminish by feet at a time, the lightning began to strike within the canyon.

The sound was deafening, and the strikes seemed to be random at first; either spare energy from the storm expressing itself, or poorly aimed attacks.

But then, amazingly, the lightning began to gravitate towards the ground-walkers; specifically the ones that were hampering the trapped warriors' escape. Within moments, the immense bursts of electricity began to spear whole groups of the wendigos' corporeal forms. Each time the bolts passed through them, the bones collapsed into lifeless heaps, and the ephemeral form of a menacing equine, with glowing silvery-lavender eyes, would wend its way skyward shrieking.

As the final ground-walkers standing between them and escape fell smoking in the dirt,Tharax and Malus looked up to see the source of their salvation.

Poma was gleefully peering over a massive anvil-like thunderhead cloud which she, and a brigade of Pegasi, were fighting to keep under their control. To the side, four other Pegasi were bucking the stormy formation, sending out bolts of lightning as their weather magic forced the cloud to do their bidding.

Malus smiled and chuckled, "I'll say this for my wife; she is kind... until you cross her. Then you'd be better off dead."

Tharax cocked his head, "Your wife? Your... wife?"

The pony knit his brow, "I thought it was obvious."

The gryphon sighed, and smiled, rolling his eyes.

"...It wasn't long after that; we were forced into full retreat. We had held the full day, but only just. And we had lost many brave warriors; nearly forty all told. Poma's stratagem, however, ensured that we lost no one in the retreat itself. But we were a weary, disheartened bunch by the time we reached Utamak's city..."

4: Revelations

"Utamak's city was a marvelous sight. The architecture was quite alien to me, but I appreciated the zebra sense of proportion, and color. Strong, thick, squared stone surfaces adorned with jade and gold. Not the flowing elegance a gryphon is used to, but indicative of many admirable cultural qualities..."

"OOF! A little more delicacy if you wouldn't mind?" Tharax winced, and worked his shoulder.
He swept his gaze across the room; Utamak had insisted that the gryphons take time to rest in his own chambers, and see to their wounds. The room was a spectacular display of tribal wealth; gold plated columns, a solid jade floor, and aged wood furniture that must have been produced by the most masterful of crafts-zebras.

Lyris glared good-naturedly, "If you would stop struggling, this would be easier. Now, on the count of three, I'm going to pull the spike out. Ready?"

The gold and brown gryphon nodded. Lyris tensed, "One..." With a swift sudden move, she yanked the spike out, "Two, three."

"MMMPH! You *lied!*" Tharax rubbed his shoulder, holding his claw against it to stem the flow of blood until Lyris could apply a bandage.

She snickered softly, "I... 'implied.' Less painful that way."

Tharax rolled his eyes, "Thank you. I *suppose.*"

Lyris smiled, and finished wrapping the wound as Utamak, Malus, and Poma arrived. Tharax glanced up and all concerns about his wound instantly faded, "How are the defenses looking?"

Malus inclined his head, "We have enough troops to man the walls... but only barely. The storm will break on us in less than an hour now."

Poma breathed in deeply, and exhaled slowly, "To make a long story short? We can not hold this city for more than a few hours, let alone vanquish the enemy, by any conventional means."

Lyris raised an eyebrow, "Implying you have some *unconventional* ideas?"

Utamak nodded slowly, "An ancient artifact my people possess, it can cause the enemy great distress. A crystal, bound with the power to destroy; emotions it attacks if you choose to deploy."

Tharax knit his brow, rapidly making the logical jump to the same conclusions the other commanders had, "We know wendigos thrive off of negative emotion... And if you have a way to attack emotions on a wide scale..."

Lyris began nodding, a grin spreading slowly across her beak, "You could not only deny them their source of power... you could use it..."

Tharax finished the sentance in an almost awed tone, "...As a conduit to destroy them all. Blast them with positive emotions until they disintegrate from the strain. Would that *work*?"

Poma smiled, "My mages think so. More importantly, Utamak's shamans agree."

Malus dipped his head towards the tribal leader, "The zebra are masters of potions, artifacts, and runes. If Utamak's best minds say it will work, then I have no doubts."

Tharax stood, and stretched, "Nor do I. How do we proceed?"

Utamak gestured to the window; an expansive trapezoidal void in the wall that looked out over the city, and away into the northern reaches. The storm clouds ahead of the wendigos had already begun to darken the horizon.

"If into the heart of the swarm you take the stone, then their minds shall all be overthrown."

Poma sighed deeply, "That means that the army down here only has to fend off the ground-walkers long enough for someone to get the stone into the center of the storm. It will be closest to the most wendigos there; the effect apparently intensifies the more of them it can affect at once. If we're lucky, it will spread to the entire whole, or most of it, and we can be done with them in one fell swoop."

Tharax sat, contemplating in silence, before finally speaking, "We used the weather against them last time, and to great effect."

Lyris exhaled in frustration, "So then...?"

Tharax began to pace slowly before the window, "So they will have adapted. All our experience thus far has shown us that they are not especially intelligent in anticipating new stratagems, but they are very quick to develop defenses to them once they are initially used."

Poma tilted her head in thought, "So... They'd want to nullify our chief advantage. When the center of the storm was high up, it meant that we could go there but their physical forms could not, and because we could resist their winds and lightning it gave us the advantage. So they will keep the center of the storm low..."

Malus grunted, frowning, "Low and protected by the ground-walkers. Unreachable."

Tharax raised a claw, "Not necessarily. Remember, they are reactionary. They expect to keep the center of the storm away from us by putting somewhere that a pegasus' advantages are removed. But they don't expect us to use the storm *this* way. If we circle around behind at ground level with a small force..."

Lyris snapped her claw in anticipation, "And if we had a diversion!"

Poma raised an eyebrow, "Such as?"

Tharax glanced down at the deserted urban center below, "Open the gates. Let them think they have breached the walls. They are poor judges of trickery and deception; they will flood in like the tide, but in so doing they will siphon off troops from the rear-guard and all their focus will be forward."

Malus inhaled, and shook his head, "Risky... but it would give us time and the opening we need to get the stone into the heart of the storm. And that's victory."

Lyris glanced at him incredulously, " 'Us?' "

Malus nodded, "Us. I know you two gryphons will insist on being protection for whoever has to go in there. You can't go alone, because you stand a much better chance if you have a pegasus with you to carve a path through the wind and lightning. Poma won't allow it to be anyone but her, and if she is going to put herself in that position, she isn't doing it without me. So yes. 'Us.' "

Lyris glanced at Tharax, "You have to admit; it's hard to argue with that."

Tharax glared, "Is it? You're not trained warriors. You two are very brave little Ponies... But this is a mission for..."

Malus huffed, "For *what?* gryphons? *Warriors?* We may lack training, but we have skills that you *need* for this fight. And we may be short on training... But we are *not* short on courage; you know this already. Would *you* allow anyone under your command to volunteer for a suicide mission? No. And that's why you volunteered first. You wouldn't abandon me to die, even if it was going to cost you your life. You would be remiss to deny me the opportunity to return that honorable act in the same spirit."

Tharax looked as if he were going to object, but he stopped, pausing in the act of taking a breath to consider. Finally he nodded, "You're right."

Lyris stared in surprise, but the male gryphon didn't seem to take any notice, "Utamak will be in charge of the city defenses. Poma, Malus, myself, and Lyris will take the stone to the center of the storm. The timing has to be strict for this to work; we'll need about twenty minutes to sneak around to their rear guard. After twenty one minutes, the city has to open itself to the horde. and pray that we succeed."

Poma inclined her head, "Malus and I should go; Utamak's shamans need to train us in the use of the artifact."

It looked as if Lyris was about to object, but Malus spoke first, "Yes; we know that because it is an artifact, that you two could also use it. But artifacts tend to be techy around gryphons; partly because you have an immunity to any effects it generates, and most artifacts don't take well to that, according to the Shamans. They asked specifically for Ponies."

Tharax sighed, "Besides which, while you are otherwise occupied Lyris and I must plan our route, and assist Utamak in plotting out the city's hopefully false 'demise.' "

Poma nodded, as she and Malus and Utamak turned to leave, "And may the blessings of Celestia rest on us all."

Tharax snorted, "No offense; but you pray to your goddess, and let *us* pray to *our* God."

Malus chuckled, and the three commanders departed. Utamak offered a parting word, "On the walls shall I be, readying the defenses. When you are finished, seek me out, and we shall plot our pretenses."

Once the gryphons had the room to themselves, Lyris sighed and began to pace. Tharax took up a seated position on his haunches, staring out the window.

Lyris huffed, "I'm not sure how I feel about this."

Tharax continued to stare, speaking in a calm tone that indicated he was more at peace with the plan, "Be glad that we have companions we can trust who have skills that will aid us."

"They're untrained."

"And there *wasn't* a time when we were too? The fact that things are less than ideal is not something we can change. By any amount of fretting."

Lyris sighed, and stepped up beside Tharax, sitting down beside him, "Maybe I'm rubbing off on you after all."

Tharax raised an eyebrow, "One hopes so. Then again, you've always been more of a stickler than I, so perhaps I should regress a little for my own sake."

Lyris batted at him casually with a claw, "Heh. Typical male bravado." She turned her head to face him, and her expression took on a serious demeanor, "I want you to make me two promises."

Tharax returned her gaze, "Name it."

"If it comes down to it? No bravado. Don't sacrifice yourself for any reason other than the mission. Not for me, not for them. We're all volunteering for this, and there is no point in adding one more body to the pile of dead heroes."

The male gryphon sighed and winced, "And?"

Lyris leaned closer, and placed one of her wings around her friend, "And if we both live through this? Promise me you'll stop behaving as if you have forever to decide where your heart lies."

She sighed, stood, and began walking to the door, "As a species, we are long lived. But most of us do not die of old age. Tomorrow is less of a certainty for us than for most. Shouldn't that make the present all the more valuable?"

"...At the time, I did not think much of her words. In retrospect, I regret that. I regret that deeply."

Apple Bloom stepped out in front of Tharax, and began walking backwards so she could keep facing him. Her gaze was filled with urgency, "What *happened*?"

Sweetie Belle looked on the verge of tears, "Did she... die?"

Tharax made a point of refusing to meet the fillies' expectant, concerned gazes. He swallowed hard, "I lost something very valuable in that final battle. And to this very day, I am doing my best to take an important lesson from that."

Scootaloo frowned, "That's awful."

The gryphon nodded slowly, "Loss is a hard thing indeed. And part-and-parcel of war."

The group remained in somber silence until they reached their next destination. ponyville's blacksmith was not normally accustomed to working on weapons, but the Crusaders now knew enough about Tharax to guess that he wasn't visiting the shop to pick up horseshoes.

They followed him more closely, hoping to learn more as soon as possible.

The Blacksmith was a unicorn; one of two smithies in town, the other being a staunch earth pony. Ponies went to the latter for heavy duty work, and the former for precision things like complex small tools.

Tharax found the unicorn working over her small bellows, "Hello again."

She looked up and smiled, "Ah! My most unconventional customer. Right this way..."

The unicorn led the group around the side of the building to a storage area lined with assorted implements such as tweezers and scissors, along with a few ornate pieces of metal artwork, including bits of wrought iron railing and fencing.

The unicorn snorted, "I must say; your order was the most challenging thing I've ever had to work on, especially given the fact that you didn't leave me with a lot of time. But I managed it. What did you do to put a hole that big in alloy?"

Tharax exhaled, "Ah... Well... I took the short, and dangerous route to get here. There was a wild Wyvern in one of the caves I stopped to camp in and..."

The unicorn held up a hoof, "I don't want to hear it. It'll give me nightmares."

She gestured to a gleaming set of plates lined up on an oaken work bench. Leaning against the bench was an enormous war axe; its double blades etched with a flowing plethora of intertwining knot-like designs.

Tharax hefted the weapon, and examined it closely, "Well done, I must say. Thank you."

The unicorn smiled and nodded, "Much obliged. Especially given your generous payment. Take care now."

As she left, Tharax began hefting the pieces of his armor, and securing them in place. The smell of warm metal, warm feathers, and leather was overpowering. It was a tangy combination evocative of far away battlefields, and halls full of victorious warriors. The Crusaders breathed deep, taking in the novelty of it.

The three fillies watched in fascination; they had never seen armor besides that which Celestia's royal guards wore. Their adornment was for ceremony; the sleek, tightly plated, burnished gear Tharax had donned was clearly aggressive, designed to take horrifying punishment, and to intimidate.

When he had finished, he secured the axe at his back, and left the smithy quietly. The Crusaders followed, still marveling.

Scootaloo asked the question they were all thinking first, "Was that the armor? And the axe? That you used in the war?"

Tharax nodded, "Yes. It has seen many conflicts, and served me well. The armor is my own design, as it is for most gryphon Knights. The axe was passed down to me from my father when he perished in battle."

The depth of his words once again brought about a reign of silence. Despite the somber tone, Sweetie Belle finally lost all patience, "Tell us! Come on! What happened?! Did Lyris really..."
She gulped as the gryphon's face went through a bevy of negative emotions, and his ears flattened.

Nevertheless, after a moment spent gazing at the horizon in sadness, he continued the narrative.

"When the ground-walkers arrived, they took their time to line up in ranks. They appeared like a sea of bones, champing and stamping as the gale howled around us. If Tartarus is a real place? Then I imagine I have already seen worse than it can offer. The sunset mixed with the storm to create a sky that was partly a dark abyss, partly a blood stained canvas. And we were right in the center of it. Utamak was resplendent in his armor, and I had no doubt he would care for the city, and all the rest of the warriors defending it, my own included. So Lyris, Malus, Poma and I left the city by the south gate, and began our careful journey..."

Luckily for the raiding party, the area around Utamak's city was littered with boulders and strange rock protrusions; an alien landscape of rock and sand that provided ample cover to hide their movement from the wendigos.

Nevertheless, the going was tedious, particularly for Lyris, Tharax, and Poma, who were used to flying and making use of speed and agility as their primary weapons.

Much of the journey was made in silence. It wasn't strictly necessary, but it felt as though it was. Not long after the group set out, the clash of the main battle reached their ears. Blood curdling screams, and war cries, mixed with the haunting call of the wendigos, the rumble of hooves, and the clash of steel.

Lyris sighed deeply, turning her gaze towards the ferocious conflict, "God help us all."

Poma inclined her head, "Celestia, God... I'll take anyone at this stage."

Malus placed a comforting hoof around her, rustling her saddlebags slightly, and the softly glowing blue stone contained within, "I'm here too."

She smiled, "I know. And I'm most grateful for that, out of everything."

It took the group almost exactly Tharax's estimated twenty minutes to pick their way through the boulders overland. At one stage, he began to privately worry that time would run out, but the closer they came to the wendigos' rear guard, the easier the going became.

At exactly nineteen and a half minutes, they had reached the final piece of cover between the boulder field, and the wendigos. They were close enough for the storm's intensity to be deafening, but their speculation had been right; the center of the storm lay at ground level, in the midst of the ground-walker rear guard.

Poma winced, "That's a lot of skeletons..."

Tharax tightened his grip on his axe, "But if Utamak succeeds, it will diminish to a manageable amount."

Malus raised an eyebrow, "Does your kind 'manage' everything at the tip of blades, talons, or beaks?"

Lyris chuckled, "No... Just anything to do with confrontation."

Tharax rumbled deep in his chest, "If it crosses us, or those we protect, it dies. No appeals, no restrictions."

Poma exhaled and knit her brow, "Whatever happened to mercy?"

Lyris grinned wryly, "Mercy is for friends and family when they make mistakes. Everyone else gets exactly one chance to behave. After that, anything is fair. And we don't pull strikes."

Malus rocked his head back and forth slightly, in partial disagreement, "Well.. In *this* particular case, I think we're all of the same mind. These are monsters. They need to be wiped off the face of Equestria."

Tharax smiled; an expression of predatory glee, "Ask and ye shall receive."

Lyris unfolded her bow, "In abundance at that."

As the count reached twenty one minutes, a sweeping cry went out among the wendigos. It contained notes of triumph and hatred. The city had been 'breached.' It was time.

Tharax looked between each member of his party in turn, "It has been my honor to fight by your side. No quarter. No pause. No reservations. We win, or we die."

With that, the group began their silent charge. As they neared the rear ranks of the enemy, it became immediately apparent that Utamak's diversion was working as intended. The ranks had already thinned out by over a third as the unearthly corpses surged into the city without caution.

Poma and Lyris took to the air, the former to begin pushing back the wind, the latter to gain a better vantage to fire from. Tharax remained on the ground with Malus; he felt that it was worth sacrificing an initial flighted advantage to make himself a force-multiplier to the earth pony's untrained strength.

They hit the final ranks almost as they hit the sleet and the worst of the wind. The force was so visceral, and physical, that were it not for Poma, Lyris would have been unable to even continue. Malus quickly began to rely on Tharax to spot and dispatch any enemy that was within striking distance, but beyond his own tiny sight range. Even the gryphon was beginning to suffer a loss of visibility in the storm, however.

The attack, nevertheless, had the advantage of desperation, brutality, utter surprise, and direction.

The first two rows of wendigos were so concentrated on moving forward, that they found themselves entirely unable to react to the oncoming juggernaut of warriors. The four companions let loose with their battle cries then, the point of stealth having long since passed.

At first, while the going was incredibly difficult and slow, progress was nonetheless steady. The four friends quickly passed the point of no return as the rear-guard ranks closed over their entry hole. And then the progress began to slow.

First the storm intensified even more, to impossible levels of gale force wind. Chunks of sleet became dangerous projectiles, and the lightning was so constant that the scene was brighter than a sunlit day.

And the wendigos were the worst of it. Not simply the ground-walkers, but the ethereal forms. Even the gryphons could feel the tug of their emotional manipulation. It was only partially magic in its mechanic. Its insidious ability to reach anyone lay in the fact that it merely reflected back to them their negative emotions, thus compounding them and amplifying them to dangerous levels.

Tharax could see, through the miasma of weather and battle, that Malus' muzzle was twisted into what seemed like a permanent grimace. Poma was openly in tears of pain and despair, and Lyris was swiftly reaching a point where her rage was going to outweigh all sense of logic, clarity, and self preservation.

Tharax, for his part, was struggling with his fear for Lyris' safety, combined with his rage.

He gritted his beak, and swing his axe with added abandon, totally ignoring the leftover soreness in his shoulder. Pain of the physical sort had long since dimmed to a mere intellectual realization of injuries. Nothing in the corporeal world could stop him, short of death.

So he forced himself to ignore emotion as well. When that began to fail, he concentrated on his rage, feeding his fear into it to shift the balance. In a state of rage, he could still fight, but not in a state of grief and terror.

Finally, after what seemed like days of battle, but what could have only been minutes in reality, they punctured the eyewall and entered the center of the storm.

The calm was instant, and deafeningly eerie.

The only sound was the now seemingly distant moan of the wind, the softer but more urgently worrying moan of the thousands of wendigos above their heads, and the occasional distant crack of lightning.

The calm did not last long. Very swiftly, the ground-walkers realized that something was amiss, and ranks began to converge on the storm's heart. Row after row of menacing skeletal forms encircled the group.

Lyris glanced down at Poma and Malus, "Get started with the artifact. We will cover for you."

She readied her bow, and Tharax began to swing his ax in lazy figure eights, "Seems like this is the story of our lives. You, me, and a horde of something unpleasant that needs killing."

Lyris snorted morosely, "Not that it hasn't been wonderful... But It could have been more too."

Tharax smiled, "Still might be."

He turned his gaze towards their nearest enemies, who were balking and shying away from the positive emotion as if it were acidic. The gryphons passed each other a knowing smile, and then dove into the fray.

There were many enemies; a seemingly unending stream of them, scrambling over the bones of the recently dismembered to gain access to their targets. But the area the two gryphons had to protect was also quite small; Poma and Malus were huddled tightly around the blue stone, eyes shut tight in concentration, as its glow began to slowly but steadily intensify.

Then it all went horribly wrong.

The crush of ground-walkers, combined with the fact that the storm's eye-walls and close winds prevented the gryphons from flying, had left them in a situation that even their almost-precognizant reflexes were strained to keep up with.

Tharax saw it happen. Had to watch, as if in slow motion, as the bone pierced Lyris' chest from behind, and the blood, more golden than red, tainted her chest feathers..

The male gryphon instantly lost all sense of self preservation, and fear.

Gryphons were natural warriors from the moment they hatched. With training, they could become so deadly that only Dragons, Changelings, or diamond dogs in numbers dared to take them on. Beyond even training, a truly berserk gryphon; one pushed beyond the threshold of negative emotions and into the state beyond rage was, like an angry Dragon, a weapon capable of ending some smaller battles wholesale.

Tharax let out a long, tortured war cry, and began to swing his axe, paws, claws, and wings like a dervish of death. He even began to use his beak, not pausing to think about the disgusting reality of touching it to dead bones.

For a few brief moments, he was pinwheeling, flipping, punching, clawing, and slashing so swiftly and violently that the ground-walkers refused to even come near him. But the crush of their brethren from behind forced them into the oncoming hellish nightmare that they had unleashed.

Death incarnate.

When Tharax finally paused, it was only because his brain finally notified him that the heart of the storm was once more empty of ground-walkers. He spent a long moment trying to re-collect his faculties, before glancing over at Poma and Malus.

The artifact stone had, under their auspices, begun to emit not only a sharp blue glow, but subtle arcs of energy that were reaching out to any nearby wendigos. Any time it touched them, they shied away violently. Doubtless this had been the reason the ground-walkers finally retreated.

Then Tharax remembered why he was so upset.

He rushed to Lyris; now lying in the dirt and sand, clutching her chest and murmuring. And in that moment, he knew that there was no chance for her.

"...As she lay there, bleeding to death, I experienced the worst moment in my life. I had known her since we were fledglings; my earliest memories besides my own parents, were of her. There was so much that could have been, and should have been. And I had let all that time slip through my talons without even thinking to care. Sometimes we don't understand the full value of what we've been given. Until we stand to lose it..."

Tharax sighed, and for the first time he appeared almost vulnerable to the Crusaders. Downcast.

Out of respect and shock, the three fillies kept silent. Death was not a part of their daily lives; having it recounted by someone who had witnessed it, and sensing his emotional tie to it, made it very real to them for a brief moment.

Each struggled to choke back their own conflicting emotions as they strode on in silence with the gryphon. They knew that he had been very generous and open to share something so deep with them, and they knew it was going to give them pause, and lead them to ask questions, for years to come.

When Apple Bloom accidentally bumped into Tharax, she looked up and knit her brow in honest confusion, "Why're we back here?"

Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle noticed, with a start, that they had circled all the way back to Carousel Boutique.

Wordlessly, Tharax walked up to the door and rapped sharply with a fisted claw.

After several moments of curious and uncomfortable silence, the door opened to reveal Rarity. She smiled slightly, and inclined her head, "I *just* finished. If you'd like to step in and rest while I finish packaging your order.."

She paused and gazed out at the Crusaders, eyes widening, "What are you three doing here?"

Sweetie Belle piped up, hoping to quickly prevent her older sister from probing into the day's events and learning that their adventure had begun with them spying on Tharax, "He's been telling us a story. Explaining something to us."

Rarity looked taken aback, "Oh!" She paused, and stared down contemplatively, "Oh... well... you'd all best come in then. Has the story finished?"

Tharax shook his head, "I think it's best I wait until..."

Rarity nodded rapidly, "Yes yes, of course. I appreciate your discretion, as will my friend."

Before the Crusaders could even begin to attempt to parse the 'adult speak,' Rarity continued, "Well! As I said, your order is complete. No charge; I am *happy* to perform this service. Just let me get them packaged."

As she trotted out of the main area, into the back room, she tossed her mane, "Oh, by the by, they're here. They're waiting for you in the kitchen."

Scootaloo wrinkled her muzzle, "They? They who?"

Sweetie Belle raised an eyebrow, "*Tharax* was Rarity's big client for today?"

Apple Bloom frowned, "We *still* never got our answer!"

Tharax stepped out of the room, seemingly deaf to their conversation. Within moments, he returned.

The first thing the Crusaders noticed was that the gryphon was smiling. Widely. Genuinely. An expression, for the first time since they had met him, of pure and deep joy.

The second thing they noticed were the other two gryphons. A similarly armored female, who looked to be about Tharax's age, her left wing draped over Tharax's back in a show of affection, and a young male fledgeling beside her, who couldn't have been much older than the Crusaders themselves.

It was plain to see from his coloration that he was their offspring.

Tharax nodded, "Young fillies; let me introduce you to my fledgling, Saranif, and my mate. Lyris."

The silence of shock seemed to stretch to an eternity. Scootaloo was the first to close her gaping jaw, but she found herself unable to get words out. Merely half-thought up noises of dumbfounded confusion.

Sweetie Belle was the first to regain full speech faculties, "But... you're not *dead*!?"

Lyris chuckled, a musical and comforting sound, "No indeed little one, though I have very nearly been dead many times in my life. Has my mate been telling you his war stories?" She offered Tharax a love-filled good-natured glare.

Apple Bloom nodded, "Eeyup. But we don't know how this one *ends* yet!"

Tharax shook his head, "And the ending will have to wait."

Apple Bloom frowned, "Awwww! But whyyyy? I'm itchin' to know! I waaant to know naaaoooow."

The golden and brown gryphon shook his head again, more emphatically, "It is not my place. I need the permission of another first."

At that moment, Rarity re-entered with two packaged wrapped tightly in flax paper, suspended in her magic. She levitated them across to Tharax, who took them in his claws, and tucked them under one wing, "My thanks to you. Are you sure you will not accept payment?"

Rarity shook her head slowly, but firmly, "This is a gift on behalf of my friend, and to honor the fallen. I insist."

Lyris smiled and inclined her head, "We will see you this evening then?"

Rarity nodded, "I wouldn't miss it for the world, darling. It will be hard enough as it is, and I want to be there for her support if nothing else."

Tharax sighed contentedly, "All is ready. Shall we go?"

Scootaloo cocked her head, "Go? Where? Your gathering?"

"Indeed."

The Crusaders were almost as surprised when they arrived back at Sweet Apple Acres, as they had been when Lyris stepped out of Rarity's kitchen.

Apple Bloom looked up with pleading eyes into Tharax's sympathetic golden ones, "Ah don't understand..."

He blinked, delivering his reply in a monotone that revealed almost nothing, "You will."

He led the group around the side of the barn, and through the doors. Applejack glanced up from her work, sorting her crop between 'good' and 'bad buckets.' she smiled sadly, "Ah figured ya'll would be along pretty soon."

She jerked her head at the Crusaders, "You told em yer story?"

Tharax nodded, "All but the end. With your permission?"

The orange earth pony removed her hat, a stunningly rare gesture, and sighed, "It's high time. Go right on ahead."

"...Lyris was not long for the world, but she had a sliver of a chance. If we won, we might be able to get her the care she needed to survive. zebra are masters of herbal medicine, and we are a quick-healing, hard to kill species. If we receive care for serious traumas in time. And time was running out. For the city, and for her.."

Lyris gazed up into Tharax's eyes, smiling sadly, "You know..." She paused to cough, a disturbing trickle of golden blood eeking from her beak, "I could say 'I told you so.' "

Tharax let out a sound somewhere between barking laugh, and wracking sob, "Typical female bravado."

His friend grinned, "Maybe you're starting to rub off on me."

Tharax clutched her claw tightly to his chest, "Hold on. Or I swear, I'll come after you just to make you pay for leaving me here this way."

"You..." Lyris paused to cough again, "You got it."

The male gryphon tore himself away, and dashed over to Poma and Malus, "Soon?"

Poma nodded, "Yes. soon. It is working... But more slowly than we'd hoped."

Malus opened his eyes, and locked gazes with Tharax, "You should know... well... ah..."

Poma opened her eyes as well. A trickle of a tear ran down her muzzle, and it was then that Tharax understood. He knew even as she spoke the words, with a gut wrenching surety that seemed to fill his stomach with boiling grease.

"The power required... it is much higher than Utamak's shaman's expected. It is not beyond our capacity to muster and give but..."

Malus bit his lip, and finally voiced the awful truth, "But we're fairly certain we won't survive the process."

Tharax shook his head, forcing back his own tears, "No... no no... we'll help you. We'll contribute, or find another way..."

Poma smiled sadly, "Now that we have begun, we can not add others to the process without starting over. Lyris doesn't have that time, neither does Utamak."

Malus sighed, "We accepted this risk. The same as you. We're happy to make this sacrifice. Same as you. For the sake of future generations."

Tharax knelt, and embraced the pair with his wings, covering them and the artifact in a canopy of feathery affection. He breathed deeply to bite back a sob, and then spoke to Poma, "You will both be long remembered. We couldn't have done this without you."

He shifted his gaze to Malus, "You... you and your mate would have made excellent gryphons."

Malus grinned wryly, "And you and Lyris will make excellent parents."

Poma nodded slowly, "It is time."

Tharax pulled back, and moved to kneel beside Lyris, raising her head so she could see. she waved her own farewell, her tears streaming freely, "Blessings on you; one day we will sing songs in the halls of victory about you."

Malus nodded, "You two... do us two favors."

Tharax jumped to answer, "You have but to name them."

"First; stop acting like a pair of school-age foals and just get mated already."

Lyris laughed briefly, choking back the sound as the motion began to jostle her damaged body. Tharax nodded, "And?"

"...Once promises were said, it began. The stone's glow became blinding; Malus and Poma closed their eyes against it, but Lyris and I stared into it and watched. We can see in the most blinding of light, but for once I did not want to see. And yet, I did as well. I wanted to bear witness, so that their sacrifice would never go unappreciated. As the stone began to pulse, it levitated and the arcs became more powerful."

"Poma and Malus began to rise with it, caught in its spell, no longer providing it direction. They simply waited, calmly, even happily, for it to demand of them the ultimate sacrifice. At last, in a blaze like the death of a star, the stone took them. They simply vanished painlessly into pure magic. The infusion was not just enough; their sacrifice was born of overwhelming positive emotion. The stone exploded."

"The shockwaves traveled outward, and everywhere they touched the wendigos died in agony. The non corporeal ones went more swiftly; the reaction cascaded across them, searing them out of existence with the fury of dragonfire and the speed of a summer monsoon. The ground-walkers experienced even more pain; their stolen bodies prolonged their deaths by seconds, and the sound of their torment was so deafening that it drowned out all else."

"When it was finally over, the storm, and every cloud for hundreds of miles, had been blasted away like stone before sand. A clear blue sky and setting sun shone down upon the results; heaps of disconnected bones, boulders overturned and dragged for yards by the wind, and Utamak's city. Burning, damaged, but still ultimately saved."

"On that day, we lost only twenty two warriors total. I consider that nothing less than a miracle of divine origin. The wendigos were never seen again; they had all been obliterated; not simply forced away, but forced out of existence by the stone."

Lyris took up the tale briefly, "We did exactly as Malus and Poma bade us. When Tharax learned that I was to survive my wounds, he proposed on the spot. I had no reservations or hesitation in accepting. Setting about our friends' final request was, however, significantly more difficult..."

Tharax resumed, "It has taken me these many years of searching to find what they asked us to find. A combination of obligations, travel, disasters, and events that scattered the clues we most needed, made it a long search. But we finally found you."

The Crusaders tilted their heads in unanimous confusion, "Huuuh?"

Tharax knelt before Apple Bloom, and smiled sadly, "You. And your sister, And your brother. and your grandmother."

The filly continued to stare in confusion, "But ah don't...?"

Applejack moved to stand beside her sister, placing a comforting hoof around her, "Sugarcube... Ma and Pa have always been just Ma and Pa to you. Mostly to me 'n Big Mac too. We didn't use their names that often even with each other."

Apple Bloom slowly began to comprehend, but only slightly. So Applejack took a deep, sob laden breath, and finally spoke once more, "They were our parents. Momma and Poppa. Poma and Malus."

For a moment the filly's face was contorted by a swift train of nearly indecipherable emotions. At last, finally putting the puzzle together both mentally and emotionally, she leaned into her older sister and began to weep freely.

Big Mac, who had arrived silently as the story was winding down, stepped over and wrapped his long sturdy neck around his siblings, pitching in with his own stoic comfort born of maturity.

Somehow, Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle managed to squeeze in and offer hugs to Apple Bloom as well.

"Dear Princess Celestia,"

Tharax's gathering turned out to be a ceremony of honor and passing for Malus and Poma. A surprising number of ponyville residents attended, including, most importantly, all of Applejack's family friends, and all the warriors in the town's midst.

"Today, ah began to learn about death, war, grief, sacrifice, an' movin' on afterward."

Of the stonemason, he had requested a small pair of obelisks; both headstones for Malus and Poma's 'graves,' and monuments to all the fallen warriors of the wendigo cataclysm. The gathering carried them to the top of a sun-drenched hill, with just the right amount of trees so as to be beautiful, but not cloying. There they erected the marble pillars; a permanent reminder of sacrifice.

"A visitor to ponyville told us a story. He helped me start ta learn alotta hard things, but more importantly, he gave me an mah folks the truth about somethin' we'd never really understood before."

After the initial ceremony, Tharax presented Applejack with a gift, from his family and Applejack's friends; the packages Rarity had prepared. They turned out to be the remnants of Malus and Poma's tunics, recovered from where they had fallen when their bodies vanished, and restored by the master seamstress to mint condition.

More tears were shed, but the catharsis ran far deeper than the grief. After that, there was a sort of celebration. According to both gryphon culture, and the fallen Ponies' last wishes, the death of a warrior for the sake of a victory was to be treated as something more to be celebrated, than to be mourned.

"None of us knew what had happened to ma and pa; we knew they had gone off on a journey to serve, but not where, or why, or what had happened. All we knew was that, sure as shootin,' the only reason they never came back was that they had ta be dead. Ah didn't think that not knowin' how, or why, would be such a burden, but it was."

In the end, Applejack, her closest friends, the remainder of the Apple family, Tharax and his kin, and the other two Crusaders were all that remained at the farm. For once in the lives of the young ones, there was no curfew. They all stayed up late into the night, swapping stories. Some about the few memories Applejack and Big Mac had of their parents, others about Tharax's adventures, and a few about the funny mishaps and shenanigans of life in ponyville.

"Big sis said it's called 'closure;' findin' out all about somethin' that hurts, and usin' what ya've learned to help come to terms and live with it. We didn't understand at first, we Crusaders; but AJ was cryin' because she was healin' Just like all of us ended up doin.' "

Tharax and his family consented to stay the weekend in ponyville; eventually most of the townsfolk warmed up to the strangers, and a surprising number even listened when Tharax delivered an impromptu story and lesson about Warriors. Foremost among the listeners was miss Cheerilee. During the festivities Diamond Tiara, Silver Spoon, and their families, were nowhere to be seen.

"I know ah haven't learn'd all there is ta' know about all this. Big Mac says its a long process ta have true peace with a death in tha family. An' it seems like there are more hard lessons in war, an' sacrifice too. We begged Tharax, and he promised to send us gryphon books; so's we could learn more. Books of War Stories."

Inevitably, Pinkie Pie threw the gryphons a welcome party. The levity of the occasion helped to allay the sombre tone of the past days. At last, however, it was time for life in ponyville to return to normal.

Tharax and his family bid their new friends farewell, but only under strictest promise to visit at least every Warriors' Day.

"Mah friends are a huge help too. They're like an extended family, and that helps me know ah don't have to do this alone. AJ has her little circle of friends, ah do too. Sometimes it still hurts to think about it... But ah don't always have ta think about it. And it hurts less every time. Ahm proud that mah Ma and Pa served. Ahm happy ah know the story. And ah hope ah'll keep on learnin' until the pain is so small, that it can never overshadow the joy. Until ah know what every grown up pony should know about sacrifice, and heroes.

Yours Truly,

~Apple Bloom~"

Author's Note

I hope you enjoyed my little oneshot, written for an EQD flash-fic Memorial Day event.

My main work, however, is not in one-shots, but in my long-form stories. If you liked this story, please give my longer works a shot.

Thanks for reading!

~Guardian