In The Service Of That Night

by Logic Flip

Rating: teen
Tags: Tragedy, Dark
Length: 1060

There is always different stories to a legend. Different perspectives that hadn’t been seen from the surface from those who lived it.

Everyone knows the story of Nightmare Moon.

A rebellion of a younger sister against the oldest which held the fate of a nation in its result.

But a nation is just the sum of it's parts, of the ponies who lived through it…

And of those who did not.

This is one such story of a few ponies and of the battle that took place.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2014-09-27 03:40:07 UTC

Not the first, Not The Last

Captain Rolling Thunder would have blacked out when the stick snapped under his hoof. The subsequent loud crack that rang in his ears kept any fringes of darkness away and had him dropping to the ground in a similar fashion to the other’s in his makeshift around him.  It wasn't an unfamiliar sound. In fact, over the last few long minutes it had become frighteningly familiar; a quieter brother to the noise of a curse breaking the sound barrier as it flew past. It hadn't been a spell. Even though he knew it hadn't been an incoming round, the sound had been enough to make him consider withdrawing the patrol. Instead, he took a step forward. It didn't make a difference what the sound had been. They needed to get as far away from the castle as possible.

It had been nearly a full year since he'd joined the Royal Day Guard, before he had never pictured himself in combat shoes, much less combat armor before joining, it was only an image that came to him during a sudden flare of patriotism that somehow worked its way into his mind.

He was surprised to find that before he was deployed for drills he'd actually liked them. They were comfortable, durable, and most importantly matched the combat utilities. It wasn't until after this first skirmish that he realized they would likely be the last things he would ever wear.

An image that came to become more apparent quickly as the battle raged on. The attack had been a surprise. Things hadn’t started well when he had woken up in his units barracks that morning to see the moon still up and then not even a full 3 minutes later two of Luna’s thestral guard along with five of Clelestia’s Royal guard came bursting saying that everyone in the room was under arrest for treason.

To say that the ensuing chaos was a mess was a sever understatement. In fact, he was sure he threw his hooflocker at one point. Yet despite his unit outnumbering their arrestors 4 to one, six good stallions and mares were killed, the enemy unicorns using forbidden magic to get them to fall in line. That only made them fight harder.

But by the time what was left of his unit got outside the fight had nearly left Thunder the moment his eyes met the scene in the training grounds.

The castle.

The courtyard.

Mangled bodies were strewn everywhere. The dead scattered as far as the walls and even in the central fountain, littering the wrecked courtyard. Among the carnage there was movement. Some were still alive, writhing on the ground, their faces a pantomime of an agony so great he shivered to imagine. Some were fighting. Guard against guard. Some wearing the same uniform as their opponents. Unicorns firing spells. Earth ponies swinging swords, hammers, and whatever else they could fit in their hoof or between their teeth. Pegasi banking and corkscrewing around each other in the air. If it wasn’t for the great stained glass window that was overlooking this…pandemonium Thunder would have thought that this wasn’t even Equestria much less at the Castle of the Two Sisters.

He had no idea how long he just stood there, shock and horror washing over him in equal parts, but he knew exactly what got his plot moving, an explosion.

Only it didn’t feel like an explosion, it felt like the earth itself cracked open. The huge column of orange blocked his vision. Smoke filled his lungs and burned his throat. He could barely see. The mix of the flash, smoke, and the tears clouding his vision. Only when the fire dissipated did he realized that he'd been knocked onto his side.

Something had broken. He tried to breathe and stupidly made the mistake of drawing in too deep. The air, still heavy with billowing smoke the crater that was only yard away from him, uppercut him in the face, sticking in his lungs like he had just tried to inhale syrup and acid. He doubled over as he coughed, nearly passing out as each forced rasp held the sensation of being stabbed through the chest.

With what strength, he could manage he forced himself up to his hooves and bellowed a retreat into the forest, his own voice muffled from what could be hearing damage.

There was no way they were going to put a dent in whatever the Tartarus was going on but he knew they needed to keep together and survive to figure it out.

What he thought was a good plan turned out to be a very bad move.

It was too dark in the forest to see more than a few meters ahead. Moving through the brush was difficult and communication was even worse. Complete silence was needed, chattering would get ponies killed. Hoof signals didn't work in the dark, though, and his section couldn't follow his lead if they couldn't see him.

He only got a few seconds to realize this then there was movement.

Rustling of some bushes several feet away then followed by the musical whoosh of a spell being charged next to his ear. Thunder jumped at the sudden break of sound peeling his eyes away from the terrain in front of him and over his shoulder to see a silver unicorn, Crystal Polish if he could remember correctly, readying her horn to fire.

He quickly picked up his forehoof tapped her thigh, shaking his head. It wasn't as distinguishing as a voice. But they weren’t equipped for another fight. He had no idea how many of the enemy might be ahead. The point came across as she nodded and the glow in her horn died down.

When the sound of movement stopped he took another look into the darkness ahead of him. There were plenty of trees in the short distance she could see, and whole lot of brush, but he couldn't see any suits of armor or silhouettes moving through the forest. They still had a good distance to work away from the enemy line, and so long as nobody did anything stupid there wasn't anything to worry…

Another rustle.

Another halting breath collecting in his chest.

Then a flash.

Pain.

Weightlessness.

Ground.

Tasting something wet and coppery.

Then darkness.