Ponies are not made for war
Durum Wheat was shaken out of his slumber by another pony climbing over him. With a tired groan he rolled over, only to have his brief respite shattered by a hoof roughly shaking his shoulder. The piebald earth pony rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he sat up with another groan. “Come on Wheats, get up! Something is going on outside!” said Aurthus, the pony so determined to disturb his slumber.
With a sudden sinking of his gut Wheats realised he wasn't dozing in the shadow of a grain silo brimming with freshly harvested wheat. His muscles did not ache from a days long harvest and his family were not waiting for him outside the small canvas tent.
Wheats was in the middle of an encampment, hundreds of identical white tents neatly arranged in seemingly endless rows. He shared his with five other ponies, shoulder to shoulder throughout the night. His muscles ached not from the harvest but from a days long march the day before and endless drill the day before that. Drilling which mostly comprised of marching back and forth in formation over the same streak of infernal ground as gruff and hard nosed ponies shoved, prodded and shouted as they tried to turn ponies into soldiers.
The only thing waiting for him outside the tent was his new found friend and bunk mate Aurthus, a blue furred and green eyed earth pony. Unlike the vast majority of the Earth ponies pressed into service in Celestia's name, Aurthus seemed determined to live in the moment. His almost sickeningly cheerful demeanour contrasting well with the dour mood of the other conscripts. The tall blue pony waved at Wheats from outside the tent. “Come on! Last I heard Hard Knoc is prowling about.” Wheats felt a cold flash of fear through his gut as he quickly scooped up the equipment at the foot of his bedroll and shuffled blinking into the harsh morning light.
With a final shake of his groggy head the piebald pony stumbled out of the tent dragging a large canvas sack behind him. A canopy of noise imminently assaulted his ears as intense activity sprung into view. Earth Ponies milled about in every direction, climbing out of tent flaps as they franticly strapped on armour and heavy boots, the sounds of creaking leather and the clink of bronzed cuirasses filling the air.
Aurthus was already fully dressed, assisting the chocolate furred Brun Cheval, another one of Wheats bunkmates, into his armour. “Hurry up Wheats!” He shouted over his shoulder, causing him to drop the leather strap he held in his mouth. The blue pony attempted to grab the strap in his teeth before it fell to the ground, knocking over the rest of the cuirass in the process. It fell to the ground with a metallic crash.
Brun swore. “Watch it Aurthus! That's not mine! Hard Knoc will murder me!” Brun was younger then most of his comrades and had an unfortunate lilt to his voice which made everything he said sound whiny.
“I'll spit shin it later” replied Aurthus as he replaced the cuirass on the brown ponies back. “Not a morning pony are you Wheats?” he threw over his shoulder again.
“Leave me alone Aurthus, I barely slept.” Wheats grumbled as he pulled up the canvas bag with a quick jerk of his head.
“You think anyone did?” muttered Brun, throwing Aurthus a dirty look as the blue pony fixed the somewhat more muddy cuirass into place.
“Yeah... I guess not.” Wheats replied as he donned his own state issued armour, feeling the cold weight that seemed to have taken up permanent residence in his stomach. He pulled on the thick bronzed cuirass, heavy bands of metal backed with leather protecting his chest and spine. Struggling into the protective suit, he used his teeth to pull tight the straps and buckles. Wheats grunted in surprise as the rear strap was suddenly pulled tight by Aurthus. “There we go, now you look like a real guard pony!” Aurthus quipped. Wheats gave a half hearted chuckle as he nodded, only to notice the blue pony's eyes where bloodshot, his features tensed and strained finally showing Aurthus's own nervousness.
“I hope we don't see any former guard ponies.” Said Brun softly as he pawed the ground nervously. “They say half the guard went over to Luna. If we run into them today, they'll tear us apart!”
“I'm sure it was the worse half.” Said Aurthus weakly as he gave Wheats his helmet. “If we do meet a few I'll have to have some stern words about the dress code!” he chuckled before his eyes softened, trying to give Brun a reassuring glance. “Don't worry about it. We'll be fine.”
“What the hell are you basing that on?” hissed a suddenly hostile Brun “You can't know-”
He was cut off by a stubby grey stallion named Oak shot, another bunkmate hovering on the edge of the group. “I hope we do run into some traitor guard.” He said darkly and firmly, his voice dripping with malice and a thick Canterlotian accent. “I hope we do … I want to see as many of them die as possible. I hope I kill every single one I find.”
The macabre statement hang in the air, unchallenged. It was said that the siege of Canterlot, the first great battle of the war, had poisoned both the water wells and souls of all surviving Canterlot ponies. An axiom given credence by Oak shots persistent bloodlust. The grey stallion stared unfocused into space, his statement seemingly voiced only to express his own deep need for vengeance.
Wheats desperately tried to change the subject “Did you sleep at all?” he asked Aurthus as he grasped the helmet, pulling it over his shaved mane. The large uncrested helm covered the back of his neck and most of his head, the full assemblage offering him great protection from above.
“He was up before me.” Said Brun donning his own helm.
“And me” remarked Oak shot.
Aurthus shrugged. “Early to bed early to rise.” He noted dismissively. Wheats was about to reply when they group was interrupted by a voice above them.
“Earth Ponies! Saddle up and get to your company! Anypony who remains in their tents will be considered a deserter!” Dictated a deep voice loudly above him. Wheats glanced upward just in time to see a pegasus dart away with a sharp crack of his wings, hovering over another set of tents to repeat the same statement over and over.
“Alright …. this is it.” said Aurthus with a strained inflection, exhaling slowly before trotting down the line of tents. He joined a mass exodus of earth ponies moving towards the marshalling field in front of the camp. Brun whimpered softy as he followed Aurthus, soon joined by Oak shot. “Right behind you” muttered Wheats as he reached into the sack to retrieve the last pieces of his equipment: four heavy iron boots. Wheats hated the boots, they coved the entirety of his hoof in thick iron and made every hoof fall pound the ground. The worse effect being they were so damned heavy to walk around in, his hooves aching every night he took them off.
Wheats heart skipped a beat as a harsh, gravely voice carried over the rows of tents and bustling ponies, most of whom were now moving down the muddy lanes between tents. “SIXTH CONSCRIPTS! Maybe some of you fillies will become mares today!” Wheats quickly fitted on the iron shoes as the one thing he feared more then the coming battle stalked into sight, like a predator searching for prey. The lucky ponies were able to flee before him, the unlucky ones fated to endued his wrath.
Hard Knoc was a short, heavyset earth pony with grey fur, black mane, beady hazel eyes and a permanent scowl. He wore the same amour as the other earth ponies with the exception of a short, thick red crest that run vertically down his helmet. While his appearance was merely unpleasant, his demeanour was downright terrifying. The grey pony's only form of locomotion seemed to be a stalking, rolling, cursing ball of hate that crushed all before it. He stormed upon a group of Earth ponies still crawling out of their tents strapping on armour and the heavy, thick iron horse shoes. They shied away from the angry little stallion as he pressed his face into the nearest pony. “Slow filly's are DEAD FILLYS! Do you need your mother to dress you? Get to the column! Your personalised invitation will be my hoof upside your head if you don't vacant this spot in the next ten seconds!” His voice was harsh and loud, projected directly into the ear of the nearest pony. The group burst into a gallop, still doing up buckles as they fled the seemingly permanently enraged Hard Knoc. He stalked after them, nostrils flared and teeth grit.
Wheats joined the group as they sprinted past, praying to Celestia that Hard Knoc wouldn't notice him. The heavy boots thudded into the ground leaving deep hoof prints, kicking up clumps of mud and dirt in the lane as armour clinked and leather creaked. In short order the small group cleared the tents and joined the assembling column of armoured ponies going to war. Wheats couldn't stop a sharp intake of breath as he observed a gigantic column of Equestrians, standards held high and armour glinting in the sun. It stretched further then he could see in both directions, an endless buzz of barked commands, trotting ponies and flapping wings blending into a canopy from every direction. A sudden loud boom eclipsed the din, causing Wheats head to snap to the direction of the sound. Standing beside the column was four or five ponies in the familiar armour, but surrounded by large drums. The group of musicians were unsheathing and hauling the large drums onto each others backs and securing them, testing the equipment with heavy blows. The heavy reverberating vibration filling the air and cutting though the noise of the marshalling earth ponies.
Wheats was suddenly shoved forwards as a unicorn forced his way past him. A quiver of javelins was secured tightly across his back, a headband keeping his still intact mane out of his eyes the only other apparel upon the unicorn. “Get out of the way!” He grunted breathlessly as he rushed past Wheats in a full gallop. He was soon followed by more and more unicorns, all sporting a leather sack of javelins. They moved with purpose, rushing up besides the column of earth ponies as bits of grass and mud flew up behind them.
“S..sorry” Wheats muttered after the unicorns. He found his place in the colume and was about to join his earth pony brethren, all of whom had shaved manes and stubby cut tails unlike the unicorns, when that awful growl that passed for Hard Knoc's voice sounded behind him. “HALT FILLY!” Wheats froze and slowly turned around. Hard Knoc came into view, muscles tense and eyes bulging as he stormed forwards. Lucky for him, but not the pony beside him, Hard Knoc was making a bee line towards the stallion next to Wheats.
“How many hooves do you have?” Hard Knoc snarled, again walking right up to the pony. He pressed his forehead into the other pony's brow who cowed away, ears lowering as he started to blush and quiver.
“Ummm … four?” He meeped.
“FOUR SIR!” Corrected Hard Knoc, spittle flying from his maw.
“Yes sir! Four sir! I mean I have hooves sir, four … I ...”
Hard Knoc cut off the ponies nervous ramblings. “That's right, FOUR! Now count how many boots you have on, I'm gonna LOVE seeing how high you get filly!” Hard Knoc turned to face Wheats as the other pony lifted his hooves, each in turn to count the iron shoes. Wheats and Hard Knoc shared a tense moment as their gaze locked. “I keep the eyeballs that stare at me filly. Get. Into. Marching. Formation.” Despite the fact Hard Knoc was more then a pony length away, Wheats was sure he felt spittle land on his face as Hard Knoc barked at him. He wasted no time as he turned and abandoned the other pony, bolting up to the growing column.
He was relieved to see his blue coated friend and other bunkmates gesturing him over into his place in the line. Wheats fell in behind Aurthus as he joined the column. “What is wrong with that pony?” he wondered aloud, glancing back at Hard Knoc and his current victim, both of whom where bolting back into the tent line. Wheats was honestly surprised Hard Knoc wasn't nipping at the poor pony's heels. Aurthus sniggered “I heard they call him Hard Knoc because it's the sound he made when he dropped from his mother's rear”. Wheat chuckled and nodded in agreement as he tilted his head around Aurthus to look up and down the column. Other ponies with short crested helmets walked up and down the formation, inspecting the earth ponies ranks. Wheats focus was soon drawn to one of the last ponies to leave the encampment.
Captain Antonius was a tall but thin pony from good breeding stock. His white coat and golden mane always appeared spotless, a fact accentuated by his engraved, silvered and decorated armour. His boots where lighter and his front legs were protected by matching greaves. His helmet held aloft a long, flowing crest with white roots and bright blue tips in a striking alternating pattern. The crest rose above the heads of every pony around him. There was something calming about the high born pony as he casually strolled around in perfect shining armour as if today was just another jaunt down Manehattin's high streets.
Hard Knoc stalked up the side of the column, halting before Antonius whom he saluted with a single stamp of his right iron shod hoof. “Sir! Only three cowards not in the column. Some crap about stomach pains. Permission to drag them mane first from the pussy tent?”
Antonius rolled his eyes with an almost feminine sigh. “Please do not refer to the field hospital as the 'pussy tent' Sargent Major Knoc. They are fine where they are for now. How close is the company to being ready to proceed?”
“Ready right now Captain, just waiting on the fat lazy ponies from the 5th to start rolling forwards.” Hard Knoc blinked once. “And also the single to move out.”
No sooner had the hard nosed pony spoken then a high pitched whistle sounded further up the column. Antonius immediately pushed a large whistle that was hanging around his neck to his lips, releasing a sharp toned blast that eclipsed all other sounds as he emptied his lungs into the device. Yet another hash high pitched tone sounded further down the line.
“That would be it then. Time to get to it.” Antonius nodded once before he rightened his helmet, securing the chin strap.
A low, slow and rhythmic beat sounded. It started softly from the head of the column then quickly grew louder and louder. Rhythmic thuds of stamping hooves rippling down the lines of ponies in time with the beat of the drums. Wheats found himself joining with the beat, locking into step with the ponies around him. A thousand iron shod hooves marched in place, the dull thumping becoming a solid predicable roar. With a final whistled single, the column slowly began to lurch forwards in a living wave of equine flesh under the morning sun.
**
The clink of armour and the thud of hoof beats had long ago pasted into ambient noise as Wheats trudged along, an uncomfortable slimy layer of sweat growing between his fur and armour. He snorted loudly in a vain attempt to blow away the ever present dust that the moving troop displaced. He was coated in the dry sticky stuff, grit filling his lungs and coating his lips. They had been moving for hours now with the only thing Wheats had to entertain himself was the endless bobbing of Aruthus's stumpy tail.
At lest the marching was keeping his mind off the heavy cold lump in his belly he mused to himself as he spat out yet more dust. He suddenly noticed the ponies around him where streaking their necks upwards and ducking side to side in an attempt to see over the pony in front. He silently caused his smaller stature as he did the same, trying to gaze around Aruthus's rear.
An open field slowly came into view, the wide vista would have been impressive if it wasn't for the lines of armoured ponies blocking his view. An uncountable number of earth ponies had their backs to Wheats, lined up in imperfect lines. Behind them was a throng of unicorns not standing in any particular order that Wheats could discern, each one shuffling in place nervously.
“Follow the pony in front! Do not break formation!” Called out a pegasus hovering over the column as it made a sharp right turn. Wheats found the column quickening it's pace, forcing him to match the other ponies around him as he stole glances to the side, taking in the site of hundreds of armoured ponies standing in formation arrayed for battle in lines 16 ponies deep. Every hundred metres or so the sea of bronzed helmets was broken by a tall wooden pole in the first line of ponies, a banner hanging off a crossbeam blazoned with a rising sun and a number. Groups of two or three pegasi flew above the earth ponies, zipping back and forth. They occasional stopped above an Earth pony with a crested helm, gesturing in one direction or another before flying off again.
Wheats almost moved past Aurthus as he turned suddenly, the smaller earth pony quickly resuming his place behind the blue pony. Aurthus soon stopped however, causing Wheats to run into his rear with a loud clash of metal hitting metal.
“Lookie no touchie” Chuckled Aurthus as he flicked his short tail into Wheats nose.
“Hey, you try being an inch shorter then every other pony” grumbled Wheats as he continued straining his neck around Aurthus, trying to catch a glimpse of the enemy. “Can you see anything? What do they look like?” Aurthus just shook his head.
“One pony length between you and every other pony!” a far too familiar gruff voice sounded over the crowd. Hard Knoc strutted around the ponies, his stubby hooves unceremoniously darting out to one pony then another to shove them back of forwards. “I said one pony length! If you can smell 'em you're too close!” he growled. Wheats took a few steps back adjusting his place as he was tught in training keeping about a pony length between himself and the pony in front, behind and either side. He then kept his eyes on the ground, praying that the mean spirited pony would pass him by without incident. Once again Wheats thanked his luck as Knoc took a turn just before he reached the piebald pony. He sighed as he rose his gaze again, taking in his surroundings.
To his front was Aruthus's armoured rump and stubby blue tail. To his right was Oak shot with Brun beyond him. Each pony in the host was standing in an imperfect grid with a pony's length between them and the four ponies around them, allowing his glances left and right to see down the line past a multitude of colourful ponies until a contour broke Wheat's line of sight. All were encased in bronze armour with a helm atop each head. Crested helms bobbed and ducked around the rows, inspecting and reorganising ponies.
Wheat's had no idea how much time had past. It felt like hours but could have just been agonising minutes. Armour clinked and groaned around him as ponies shifted weight impatiently from one hoof to another, occasional sighs and frustrated grumbles echoing around the formation as the sun beat down on them.
“Look up!” Somepony exclaimed suddenly, drawing Wheats eyes skyward. Some distance in front of the Earth pony formation and high above, a swarm of pegasi dove and ducked, darting and wheeling around each other in the sky in a great dark cloud of flying ponies. “They look like they are dancing ...” Said Aruthus in awe as the observers on the ground watched the flying ponies manoeuvre around each other yet seemingly never actually touching. Wheats narrowed his eyes, shielding them from the sun with one hoof as he noticed movement under the cloud. A small but constant rain of falling pegasi fell downwards, some recovering from a careening descent but most simply falling. He followed one of the falling ponies until it disappeared behind Aruthus head. Wheats flinched as he heard a soft wet thud faintly in the distance.
The battle above the field seemed to last forever, the cloud slowly growing less and less dense, the graceful movement of the pegasi slowing and losing coordination. The conflict in the sky slowed to a skirmish, with weary patrols sizing each other up and mostly moving to block the other sides movements but never meeting. Wheat's sighed as he pulled his helmet off and wiped his brow with a hoof. The hot sun beat down on him.
It must have been more then an hour now, just standing, sitting, and now laying in the sun. Wheats was on his belly, with Aurthus sitting on his rear facing Wheats. There was little idle talk between the ponies, most shuffling in place as they nervously looked around or watched the battle far above.
The sound of an approaching hoof beat made Wheats rise to his hooves and quickly replace his helm. He breathed a sigh of relief as Antonius came into view, casually strolling down the line between ponies. The helm with it's thick, long crest was hanging upside down off a hook on the side of Antonius’s engraved sliver armour, swaying with his stride. His short cropped golden mane was somehow still pristine, but not even the well preened pony could keep the traces of mud and dust from his face. The Earth Pony officer moved up the line soon approaching Wheats and his comrades.
“Umm … excuse me sir captain, but when will like... something happen?” Asked Brun on the other side of Oak shot, just down the line from Wheats. Even after the prolonged period of inaction, he still seemed highly strung. Eyes darted to every sudden sound and movement, sweat poured off him and his muscles tense and stiff.
Antonius released a soft groan as he shook his head. “You address me as Captain, Private. And the only thing I can tell you is too soon. Be thankful if we do nothing but stand here all day.”
“Yes Captain Private.” Nodded Brun without a hint of sarcasm.
Antonius tiled his head as he gave Brun an incredulous look. “....really?” he said in disbelief. Brun simply looked confused but before he could respond another voice disrupted them.
“All this and we are just going to stand here?” Snorted Oak Shot. “They have to be over there somewhere, can't we just go get them?”
“Lets not!” squeaked Brun quickly.
“Silence in the ranks!” Snorted Antonius loudly. “Remember your training and follow orders.” He said forcefully, pausing to stare down anypony who dared challenged him. Finding no such pony, the Captain continued down the line.
As soon as he was out of ear shot Aurthus held his head low, speaking under his breath. “Well at least that part should be easy. The officers are morons and training was all of five weeks” he chuckled.
Wheats couldn't summon the mirth to smile, just nodding as he eyed Brun. “Hey … do you think Brun will be alright? He's so … worked up.”
Brun was tense, his body shuddering intermittently as he stared at the ground, sucking in deep uneven breaths.
Aruthus glanced over at Brun, frowning slightly as he just shrugged with a small shake of his head. The blue pony turned to face the front of the formation as a shout sounded, followed by the sound of thudding hooves.
Dishevelled unicorns made their way through the formation of earth ponies, their fur damp with sweat and coated with mud, javelin quivers empty and flapping loosely at their sides. They run between the earth ponies, Wheats soon losing count of the number of exhausted unicorns dashing past him. Soon the flow of ponies slowed, the stragglers becoming more and more haggard. Some bore cuts or bleeding gashes, others limped past with less obvious wounds. The last to pass them was a massive unicorn, snorting in exertion as he carried another unicorn draped over his back.
Wheats couldn't help but notice the wounded unicorn wasn't moving. He wasn't even sure he was breathing. His flank was coated in a thick layer of blood, the open wound oozing fluids down the larger unicorns back. It made Wheats feel somewhat woozy. “What do you think happened to them?” he asked Aurthus.
Aurthus shrugged again. “My guess? They ran into some other ponies and had a minor disagreement. I'm sure it'll all be cleared up by noon.” He nodded sagely.
“I hope you're right.” replied Wheats as he watched Captain Antonius trot determinedly between the lines of ponies, stopping some distance to Wheats left. The Captain lifted his whistle to his lips, a short sharp blast drawing all eyes of his company upon him.
“Form the phalanx!”
A cold chill went down Wheats spine as he sucked in a deep breath, closing his eyes and trying to remember the drilling of the past few weeks. They must have done it a hundred times, so why was it so hard to remember what to do now? As always he was in an even numbered rank … so Wheats took two steps directly to to his right, and then started to move forwards until he was directly behind another pony. He past Arthus but found more space in front of him, and so continued moving forwards.
“I'll see you soon Wheats!” Called Aurthus from behind him. He would have replied but a single fact loomed large in Wheats mind, even if logically he should have known it all along. His heart sunk like a stone as he realised there were no ponies directly in front of him. He was in the very first rank and would be some of the first to meet the enemy.
“Keep moving!” Said an annoyed voice from behind him. Wheats hadn't even noticed he'd slowed down before he took his last step and stood shoulder to shoulder with other earth ponies in the first rank of the formation.
There was nowhere to move. No more then half a step to either side of him was another pony and another directly behind him. In front of Wheats was the vast expanse of open field. In the distance, he finally got his first look at the forces of Luna. While the forces of Celestia armoured themselves in bronze, silver and gold, Luna's forces wore dark tones of black, grey and purple.
Wheats felt his heart begin to race as he took in the seemingly endless stretch of grey aligned on the opposite side of the field, mirroring each other in a giant solid block of ponies eight deep. Between the two armies was a wide open space littered with ponies laying in heaps. With growing horror Wheats realised these were the dead and dying, fallen unicorns and pegasi. Wings of pegasi still circled high above, manoeuvring in a giant game of move and counter-move to block each others advance continuing in an endless stalemate.
The pony directly on Wheats left was a giant peach coloured Clydesdale. He was clearly not a conscript; his armour was timed in gold, much thicker and composed of interlocking plates. A chain mesh hang down it's rim to protect his legs. The need for more armour was obvious as the Clydesdale carried a leather sling on one flank, in which hang the company standard Wheats had glimpsed before, and had spent hours starting at during drill. The entire company was arranged around that standard, and it was a well known fact anypony who captured an enemy standard was guaranteed a promotion. The sixth conscripts standard was a plane white rectangle emblazoned with a stylised sun rising over the horizon with the number six in the centre of the sun. The standard rippled in the gentle breeze, tall and proud at the front of the formation.
“Stand firm private.” rumbled the Clydesdale to his right.
“Do you know what's going to happen? Have you been in battle before?” Wheats asked.
The Clydesdale snorted powerfully kicking up a small could of dust. He arched his back, stretching in place with chinks of armour and creaks of leather as the standard gently shifted above him. “Do your duty private.” He grunted dismissively.
Another sharp whistle blast gathered the sixth conscripts attention. Captain Antonius trot in front of the formation of ponies. He stood before them, bellowing out over the assembled formation. Standing shoulder to shoulder eight ponies deep they formed a solid block of equine flesh and metal. “Sixth conscripts! I know that war is not the natural state of ponies; but today we deal a blow to the usurper and traitor to all ponies, and her mislead followers. Remember your training, trust in the sargents, and above all else, never stop moving forwards. It is our weight of numbers and determination that will win us this day. If the pony in front of you falls, take his place. If you ever get confused or disorientated, move towards the standard. Praise the Sun!”
“Praise the sun.” mumbled Wheats, adding to the chorus that returned the salute. To his ears it sounded hollow and forced, with the exception of a throaty roar from the Clydesdale and an enthusiastic Oak shot.
If Antonius noticed the less then enthusiastic reply he gave no indication as he returned to the centre of the first row of his company, inserting himself into the line on the far side of the Clydesdale to Wheats.
“Hey... Wheats was it?”
Wheats turned to face the pony on his left, an almost charcoal black pony who gave him a reassuring smile. He tried to return the smile as he swallowed and nodded, thankful of at least one friendly face.
“Just keep abreast of everyone else, and we'll all be fine. You're in the front now … you have to represent the sixth!” the dark pony's voice carried a hint of pride. “I'm Crimson night.”
Wheats gave him a half hearted smile. “Thanks … you really think we'll be alright?”
“Sure! This is only our first battle. We'll look back at this and laugh about how nervous we all were. I have it on good authority that Luna's forces will break and flee just at the sight of us.” His smile broadened. “After all, Celestia is on our side. Who can stand against that?”
Wheats tried to return the smile, but couldn't muster the mirth. The standard bearer besides them looked grim and Wheats would feel a lot better if the others looked a bit more confident. He heard Hard Knoc's voice to his rear, easily carrying over the assembled ponies. “First one of you little fillies to break formation gets my hoof so far up your arse that the pony in front of you will get a fisting... “ That gruff voice carried over the nervous fidgeting of over a hundred ponies prepared for battle. It was about time, it had been at least 10 minutes since Knoc had yelled at somepony. “I don't care! Piss were you are standing! But by Celestia's sweat teats if you move an inch out of place I'll make sure you are never able to stand and pee at the same time ever again! Now … stand ready!”
“Here we go....” said Crimson with an apprehensive intake of breath. The sound of drums filled the air. It was an angry, fast beat reverberating around the battlefield. Wheats coughed as he desperately tried to force the cold lump in his belly to stay where it was and not crawl up his throat. He was tense, a sentiment shared by those around him as every pony stood a little taller, some pawing the ground and snorting as they readily themselves for action at last.
Wheats glanced upwards in time to see a Pegasus darting over the gathered pony hosts, high enough that every company in the army could see her. She hovered for a moment above the pony host, outstretching one hoof to unfurl a bright green flag. At that moment a long sharp whistle sounded from Antonius, and every captain down the line, the single to begin advancing.
The whole host of armoured ponies lurched forwards, each hoof falling in time with the beat of the drums behind them. Where once the only sounds were nervous coughing and the creak of armour now the thunderous sound of thousands of hooves colliding with the ground in unison eclipsed almost every other sound.
Wheats stomach was somewhat mollified as endless waiting was at last replaced with action. He felt as if he were part of a giant, unstoppable machine, moving in a tide of equine muscle towards a common goal. What possible force could hope to stop a thousand, no million ponies moving as one?Hoof beat after hoof beat consumed the ground in front of them, Luna's own forces growing nearer and nearer.
His mild elation was dashed when Wheat's noticed an unmoving form on the ground in front of him. No more then twenty metres away lay a Pegasus, unmoving with his legs bent at impossible angles to his body and covered in bruises. With growing horror Wheat's realised the fallen Pegasus, just one of the many victims of the air battles above, was right in his path. The body got closer and closer. It dawned on him that he couldn't more around, he couldn't step over. That left only one option.
Wheats tried not to look down. He just kept marching as his hoof made contact with the corpse. A wing snapped under his hoof fall with a sicking crunch. He felt himself rising as he marched over the body, the sounds of hoof over hard ground replaced with wet thuds all the while refusing to look down. A sudden grunt of pain under him caused a cold flash of pain to freeze Wheats heart. Was the pegasus still alive? Or was that just the sound of leather armour being crushed under him? Wheats tried not to think about it, he just had to keep moving forwards. His hooves felt dirty, filthy even, somehow coated in muck even if his mind told him it would have been mostly bloodless. At last he felt his rear hooves leave the body, yet the wet sound of hoof blows on flesh continued as the pony behind him walked over the corpse. IT would be nothing but paste by the time the formation moved past the body.
He wanted to leave. He felt terrible, sick to his stomach as he knew that wasn't the worse thing he would see today. Wheats would have given anything to turn around and just run from this horrible place, yet he knew there was only one direction to move in: forwards into Luna's waiting army.
In front of the formation Luna's lines were only a hundred metres away now. There were not in a dense solid formation as Cleastia's forces were. The forces of Luna were standing in neat lines with space between each pony. In front of the loose line of darkly armoured ponies were a scattering of moving figures, most of whom seemed to be running towards the six conscripts before abruptly stopping dead in their tracks. Wheats blinked, confused as the Clydesdale standard bearer next to him mutter under his breath “Don't look up.”
In most other circumstance Wheats would have questioned why, or resisted the urge to do the exact opposite of what he'd just been told. In his agitated state however, a deep primal need to avoid danger compelled him to do exactly that: He's head snapped upward to see the sleek moving shapes of javelins at the peak of there arc start hurtling down towards the formation of densely packed ponies. One dark shadow seemed to just get larger and larger and with horror Wheats realised it was falling directly towards him. He couldn't look away, sure pain and suffering and even death was contained in that sleek shadow.
Icy fear gripped him as it sped directly at him, his eye following the shape as it seemed to grow faster and faster. His neck snapped sideways to follow the projectile as it flashed to his left and landed with a solid wet thud into Crimson Night's neck, twisting in that instant under it's own weight to rip open a deep gash in the stallion's neck. A bright splattering of blood burst from the open wound to shower Wheats in a mist of gore. Crimson fell to the ground with a harsh gurgling sound as he struggled to breath thought his ruined throat, the stunned Wheats suddenly being shoved forwards by the pony behind him as he lost his step, transfixed by the fatal blow. He quickly recovered, the image of the dark furred pony's face convulsing in shock and pain as his lifeblood poured from his mangled neck burned into Wheat's mind.
Wheat could no longer feel his legs, but he knew he was still marching towards the opposing lines. Left hoof, right hoof. Left hoof right hoof. “Fill that hole! Move up!” He was dimly aware that another pony had moved to his left, filling the gap in the formation. “Keep marching! Fill the gaps!” Sounded Antonius. “I told you not to look up.” snarled the standard bearer. Wheat's tried to take in his surroundings but felt numb, like he was an unfeeling automation, going thought the motions that had been drilled into him. He was shaken from his dazed state when searing, burning pain consumed his flank, the small pony's body thrown to the side suddenly. Again Wheats stumbled as he looked back at his own flank. A Javelin had glanced off his armour with enough force to deeply bruise his flank, but the cured leather had held and forced the projectile to turn and thud quivering into the ground. This time as he stumbled he looked around in shock to find the entire line was wavering with him. Some ponies were out of step, a half pace ahead of the others. They stopped, looking around and missing the next beat of the drum, only increasing the confusion. The once neat rows grew increasingly disorganised as ponies milled about trying to move forward or back all the while being pushed forwards by the ponies behind them. “Do no stop moving! Forwards Six conscripts!” Caption Antonius commanded, now himself a full pony length in front of the other ponies, alone in front of his company.
The enemies lines were only fifty metres away now, yet they still they hadn't closed ranks. The skirmishing unicorns were rushing through their own lines, most of their quivers empty. Only three unicorns didn't retreat, each one rising a Javelin with magic parallel to the ground. They catapulted the large needles into the front of the pony formation, flashes of silver all moving towards the standard bearer. One bounced off his shoulder armour with a metallic scream as the other two hammered home. A javelin tip burst past the chain mesh and into his leg passing out the other side and into the ground. The third found a chink in his chest armour, biting deeply into the large stallion's body. With an agonising, uneven grunt he feel to his knees, the weight of the Javelins now lodged in his body pulling him down and making it impossible for him to move without paralysing pain. He keeled over into Wheats, kicking out and struggling to rise, the standard pole falling into Wheats back with a cruel crack. His armour protected him from the force of the blow, but the cloth draped over his head and blocked his vision. Wheats panicked as his was suddenly plunged into darkness driving him to stop and kick franticly at the heavy standard to try and push it aside, sure that any moment a lethal blow would slam into his own flesh.
The entire formation had ground to a halt and pandemonium reigned. Any pony who moved forwards with the drum beat found his flanks empty, causing him to stop and try to find his place again. Yet the ponies who did stop soon found themselves behind the ponies in front. The front row soon disintegrated, a complete mess of milling ponies were once there was clean and distinct lines.
Adrenaline pumped into wheat's body as the chaos around him increased. Adrenaline pumped around his body as he finally managed to rip the cloth out of his face. As the Sixth Conscripts were breaking down the enemy formation had closed ranks and was advancing towards them. A solid wall of dark armoured ponies moving with complete purpose and determination, only 30 metres away and closing fast.
Antonius stood alone in front of his company, turning to face them as he screamed into the milling herd. “Stand your ground! Get back into formation! Get me some order Sargents!” he was shrill and desperate, eyes wide as he tore off his own helmet and threw it on the ground in frustration. “Just stand your ground you worthless mud ponies!” the officer spluttered in rage, the first time Wheats had seen the Captain utterly lose his composer.
“Fuck you Antonius! I'm not going to die here!” Somepony screamed back at him over the confusion.
It was impossible to tell the exact moment it happened. One instant the ponies were milling about in confusion, bumping into and shoving each other in a desperate attempt to find out where they were meant to be. The next moment the whole formation started to slowly move backwards. Ponies at the rear tuned and fled, causing a chain reaction with nearby ponies whose own rears and flanks were suddenly exposed to panic and do the same. The once orderly and solid mass started to dissolve and disperse as pony after pony turned to run full tilt away from the approaching host of Luna's forces, now a mere fifteen metres away and moving in perfect unison.
Antonius looked behind himself with panic, the organised clean lines of the enemy formation rapidly and inexhaustibly approaching. He seemed to Pause for a moment, frozen in place before he spun around and bolted away from the numberless foe, running into Wheats and shouldering him roughly aside. The Captain fled after his own company, leaving Wheats alone facing the horde of oncoming soldiers. Fear consumed him, and only one thought remained in his head. No longer caring for the damage he did to himself Wheats pulled away from the standard with as much force his frame could deliver, the standard pole snapping with a sharp wooden crack finally freeing Wheats. In a moment of panic he gripped the shattered pole in his teeth to keep the cloth from flying back into his face once more as he turned and fled.
Wheats run as hard and as fast as he was able, still holding the standard before him. He would toss it aside but the blasted thing had wrapped itself around his chest and neck, preventing Wheats from being able to drop it without being sure he wouldn't trip. He could still hear the ponies behind him, the thunder of hooves ringing in his ears as they charged. The fear of risking tripping or slowing for any reason was far greater then simply carrying the broken standard.
Sucking in great breaths through his teeth Wheats ducked and dodged around fallen ponies and Javelins stuck in the ground as he followed the rest of the routed sixth conscripts. A flash of familiar blue cased him to slow as he came across Aurthus. Wheats friend was sitting on his rump on the ground, moaning in pain as he clutched an upright javelin which had pieced clean through his rear leg and pinned him into the ground. The pony looked up, his eyes brighting as he saw Wheats approach. One blooded hoof reached out to his friend and franticly waved at Wheats.
“Wheats! Help me!” He yelled over the din of hundreds of iron boot clad hoof falls. “I...I can't get up!” Wheats slowed in front of Aurthus, the blue pony pawing at his friend, gripping at his armour and trying to pull Wheats down towards himself. Wheats glanced behind himself just in time to see a semi-circle of dark armoured ponies rear above the fallen Clydesdale, the original standard carrier he had just moments ago been standing besides. The dark armoured earth ponies reared up and iron shod hooves rained blow after blow onto the still struggling to rise stallion, the heavy metal on metal blows reaching Wheats over the rest of the battles noise. The metallic collisions turned to wet blows of metal on flesh, splashes of red mist spewing upwards with each blow. The stallion collapsed under the assault, falling onto his back as he was beaten down, yet still the ponies didn't stop, crushing the stallion under their hooves again and again. No more then ten metres away pony's clad in black armour run full tilt towards Wheats. He could see their eyes, full of aggression and hate as they bore down on him.
Wheats pulled away from Aurthus. There was just no time. His eyes met with his blue furred friend, the panicked, pleading eyes sharply turning from fear to accusation “No...don't...please...” Aurthus screamed at Wheats as he desperately cling onto Wheats armour. With a final lunge Wheats broke free and turned away, continuing to run, daring no to look back as Aurthus released an animalistic scream of terror and frustration behind him.
He run and run and run until his legs burned and every breath was agony. Past the flat fields where they had marshalled and on into the brush. Out of the corner of his eye he caught glimpse of other fleeing ponies, all heading in the same direction. Past wagons and creates he ignored ponies who stood their ground, sure they would share the fate of Aurthus and the stallion standard carrier. He had no idea how long he run for, but it must have been some time as he found himself back at the lines of tents he'd started the day with. He entered the camp as his body burned with fatigue. He slowed, his heavy hooves trembling as he swayed in place. Familiar ponies of the six conscripts gathered in small groups around their tents, all of them exhausted and missing armour and hoof boots.
“What's going on? What happened?” One of the exhausted ponies asked Wheats. He just shook his head, stumbling forwards to collapse in front of the nearest tent heaving.
“Who is in charge now?” Another panicd pony said. Wheats felt his muscles quivering involuntary, the world dimming slowly as he struggled to look around.
Wheats was confused as the other ponies. HE didn't know why more and more of them were gathering around him, looking at him as if he had any answers.
“What do we do now?” Another asked.
Wheats was about to snap at him in replay when he suddenly realised that the dirty, beaten banner of the sixth conscripts was still wrapped around his neck. He once again shook his head.
There was a sudden bust of dust a pegasi landed heavily in the middle of the loose grouping of ponies. The earth ponies recoiled away from his sudden appearance, shielding their eyes from the sudden bust of dust. The pegasi wore muh more armour then the other flyers Wheats had seen during the battle, almost as heavy as the earth ponies themselves. He was growling, looking around at the sixth conscripts with barely concealed contempt. One of the earth ponies approached him, seeing his crested helmet and assuming he was an officer. “um, sir... what happened? What do we do now?”.
The pegasi snorted, tossing his head. “What happened? We won, that's what happened. Luna's forces are in full retreat. And instead of chasing them down my whole wing has been assigned the job of rounding up you ground crawlers. Your Captain, if he can show his face, is to report to the General as soon as he is called for.”
“We …. won?” wheezed Wheat's in disbelief.
The pegasi nodded. “A great victory for Celestia. Now where is your captain?”
Wheats felt the strain of his flight catching up to him. The world grew darker and darker as he tried to process the news. They had won. Luna's army was defeated and the whole army would celebrate a victory.
He looked around at the grim faces of the remains of his company. None of them could meet the pegasi's gaze of answer his inquiry. It didn't seem like a victory to the sixth conscripts.
