The Tempest's Maw

The Tempest’s Maw: Chapter 1

“He Who Lives by Pride”

I still remember my days as a young colt before I joined the Wonderbolts. War, at the time, seemed nothing more than an ancient, fantastic mare's tale used to entertain (or in my case frighten me into submission) before bedtime. Death and the knowledge of facing a cannon's barrel seemed so surreal, so dreamy, so unwanted that even I experienced an aversion for anything close to combat.

Equestria had a military component of which I enlisted in before the Wonderbolts hand-picked me to join their troupe. Everypony in Equestria had to complete a year's worth of military service if they wanted citizenship; two or three years for prestige, a couple more bits, and a guaranteed job in Cloudsale after that extra time is up. I had been a part of the Solar Empire Peacekeeping Military Police, 5th Aero Division, 48th Tactical Bomber Squadron "Shield Crushers." I still remember the abhorrent smell of explosive powder and metallic bullet casings, and how they forced each and every one of us to fire at straw targets. It was a long two years, I'll tell you.

Truth be told, I never killed -or even injured anypony during my year of service. They taught me how to fly, how to use incendiary bombs, how to raid towns and level them to the soil they built their houses on, but I had never been in any sort of situation that called for such tactics. None of us have. Though my superiors drilled the mantra of "no matter how extensive the peace may seem in a serene world, it will always be shrouded under the pall of war," we never fought a war, or even go against a tiny squabble for that matter. Equestria existed in perfect harmony, for the most part. There really was no need for a military, so naturally war became this demonic entity ready to tear our joyous lives limb from limb while it danced vivaciously to the tune of our bloodcurdling cries of chaos. I, unlike the phalanx of fresh recruits I trained with, dreaded the fear of being drafted into some sort of war. War deeply frightened me, but as a pegasus and a descendant of the mighty Commander Hurricane, I had no choice but to carry on the proud, unfettered name.

When the Wonderbolts chose me to join their troupe near the end of my service, I jumped on such an invitation, not just because I had been accepted as one of the best fliers and subsequently the best skyfighters in all of Equestria; It was a one-way ticket out of conscription. To me, flying for the entertainment of others was more rewarding than flying to destroy. The Wonderbolts never partook in battle: They rallied troops with shows, performed in towns to raise money for war efforts, sat on the proverbial bleachers and rooted the Equestrian army that fought in their stead. Their affiliation with the Equestrian army was just on paper, and their service to the army existed for the sole purpose of flaunting our prowess to the foals and fillies. So I joined without hesitation.

Years passed, and not a single war was declared. By that time, my aversion to war dissipated. I became the poster stallion for the Wonderbolts, a shining paladin that helped guide the light of peace everypony basked in. I felt at peace with the supposedly chaotic world around me. We (that is, the Equestrian army) ushered a lasting era of peace between the foreign nations in the land of Equestria. War was just a distant figment of my imagination, it seemed.

Until that final day of summer…

Boom.

A deafening, ear-piercing explosion was the last thing I heard. A ball of fire engulfed my wings and sharp fragments of shrapnel shattered my goggles as I looked back. Smoke from the explosion filled my lungs, burning them. The hot air choked my throat and singed my lungs, rendering me unable to scream in pain. Spiraling out of control, I desperately tried to remain steady, but the explosion severely injured my left wing. A mixture of blood and sweat danced before my eyes, shrouded in a pall of smoke while my comrades fervently fended off their attackers in a twisted waltz for their lives, the enemies partaking in a delightful hunt of their unarmed prey.

Contrails of black smoke surrounded by bolts of lightning swirled by overhead, covering the skies. Large griffins with monstrous talons, heavily equipped with ballistic weapons, chased after my squadron. A single griffin waited for me to crash into the forest below the skirmish. It circled in the air, waiting impatiently for the large tree branches to impale my weakened body. A bright, yellow claw had been emblazoned below its majestic, awesome wings. I saw the griffin reload her back-mounted cannon with a strange type of ammunition: an oversized bomb that could fly on its own. I was shot down by a single explosive bolt; a Wonderbolt could have avoided a storm of shots without breaking a sweat. It spun victoriously in the air the moment the griffin and I fell into the sea of trees below.

I crashed into the forest. Several leafy tree limbs cushioned my fall, but I felt an unsettling crack reverberate through my body.

"Focus, Fleetfoot! No pony survives a shot like that." I heard over my ringing ear. It was my captain speaking, but her voice was faint.

I blacked out.

I awoke in a dark void.

Streams of light flew overhead and into the nothingness before me. I felt a sensation of intense heat, then a chill of a biting frost. Although my mind has become accustomed to the feelings of those sensations, they felt completely otherworldly to me. I could not tell if I experienced a feverish dream, or if I was embraced by Death's own hooves.

The glimmering lights radiated with a greater intensity, congregating into a blazing orb above my head. I blinked and I found myself in an unfamiliar place. Almost instantly, I looked up at the clouds; the black contrails of my allies disappeared.

A clear, but empty blue sky hung gallantly overhead.

The sounds of distant birds chirping filled the air, followed by a stinging ring in my ear. I clasped it, and felt blood run down my hoof. I was still alive, but barely. I scanned my body for injuries. To my chagrin, I discovered that my wing had been covered in blood, and that my legs were rife with small lacerations. I found a large cut on the side of my body, near my cutie mark.

I could do nothing to remedy my injuries. I needed to find help. Dragging my limp body forward, I ventured into the viridian forest. I knew not of my location, but I did not wish to rot in the patch of grass stained a crimson hue. Anywhere would be better than this Purgatory.

I thought of flying out of this maze, but I could barely muster the strength to stand, let alone walk. The strange weapon that shot me down injured my wing, but the fall broke it, just like that griffin anticipated. Even if I could fly with one wing, I doubted that I could reach the forest's canopy without passing out from exhaustion or loss of blood.

A sensation of terror slowly crept up my body while I meandered through the alien environment. I began to call out the names of my troupe in vain, every frantic plea of help meeting only a deadly silence. After a short while, I stopped calling. My voice had been exhausted, my throat dry and irritated by all the swallowed blood. My mind was the only part of my body that did not weaken. It throbbed with greater intensity as thought after thought, fear after fear passed my mind, striking, addling, tormenting my torn flesh.

"No pony survives a shot like that." My captain's voice sounded repeatedly in my head like a broken record. "No pony survives a shot like that."

I could not help but feel that she was right; I probably still had some time to linger with what life I had left. But my mind possessed the need to prove her wrong; it was the only place I could return to. I would become the first to tarnish the Wonderbolt's death-free record since their establishment nine hundred-fifty years ago. Such disgrace would certainly make me a laughing stock for years to come, I imagined. Even though I would face countless insults, I could at least enthrall my comrades with the knowledge that I still lived.

As I brushed off the chilling thought of failure to my squadron, another swiftly sprung in its place: What made the griffins attack without a formal declaration of war? They used explosive powder, a dangerous material prohibited by the laws and customs of war in Equestria and in Gryphus alike. What was even more unsettling was the griffins’ weapon: it was some sort of rocket. It didn’t hit me directly, but the blast was still strong enough to break my wing. And it chased after me, as if it were propelled by an unicorn’s magic or if it had a mind of its own. To think such a huge ball of fire came from that shell half the length of my head!

War, I surmised, would be inevitable. After all, a strong enough push can cause even the most steadfast of boulders to fall down a cliff. Such a thought frightened me. Death would grip the two lands while it hand-picked the fresh souls of griffin and pony kind. I blotted that thought out of my head.

Several minutes of dragging my limp body through the lush forest passed, but it seemed like an eternity. By this time, standing became a near impossible task; I was exhausted, dehydrated. Blood still streamed from my head and seeped into my bright blue uniform. I forced myself for several yards before I collapsed out of exhaustion. I still clung to my life in vain.

No… I can still stand! A Wonderbolt never wavers in times of weakness!

But I could not stand.

I slammed my hoof at the ground in a mixture of bitter self-loathing and despair. I had consumed the last of my energy, and the adrenaline that blotted my pain faded, making every laceration on my body shriek in agony. My heart pounded in irregular intervals while my hooves violently shook. The loss of blood made me feel lightheaded, limp, dizzy. My vision blurred, until the edges of my eyesight slowly became darker and darker, dragging me into a black void from which I had escaped from minutes before.

No longer able stay awake, I succumbed to my injuries and lowered my head in painful resignation. I chuckled as though someone played a twisted joke on me.

I then saw Death appear in front of me through my blackened vision. She extended a skeleton hoof to me, to which I gingerly grasped as if she were a dear friend. Her mouth seemed to move. Even without a mouth, she spoke soothing words to my weary soul.

"Let's get you away from here," she whispered in a gentile, spellbindingly serene tone.

The hoof, despite its cold and grim appearance, felt warm. I closed my eyes, hypnotized by her words, entranced by her kind gesture. I felt my body spring upwards from my blood-soaked grave as a bewitching heat surrounded my body which forced out a sigh of relief as my mind left my immobile coffin.

I slowly opened my eyes, staring at the cracks of a mahogany ceiling. I blinked several times, to make sure that my eyes did not play tricks on me.

Have I died? Is this the realm where all ponies ascend to?

I lifted my head up, but a shock of pain forced me down. I was still with the living. I turned my head side to side, gazing at the room around me: birdhouses and nests hung from the ceiling, the entire room surrounded in animal motifs. My wounds had been dressed in gauze, my broken wing in a cast. Even my uniform had been cleaned, repaired, and left to hang on a rack. Who did this? Though tired, I forced myself out of the bed; I did not want somepony to carry such burden.

I slid out of the bed, only to stumble and crash to the floor with a loud thud. I slowly limped across the room and carefully descended down the stairs. I planned on briefly thanking my caretaker, then promptly leave. Before I reached the end of the stairs, a yellow-colored pegasus with pink hair gaped in surprise, while I stared at her with the same sheepish expression. I tried to speak, but a flood of thoughts passed through my mind; I ended up stammering idiotically in an attempt to explain myself, but the yellow pegasus spoke first.

"You’re not fully healed yet," she meekly stated as she hid her face behind her pink mane. I could barely even hear her, even if we were a forearm's length apart. "Y-you should-"

"I'm fine. You've done too much as it is," I swiftly replied, lowering my head in respect.

I continued down the stairs with a heavy limp. I ran out of breath after only several steps. The mare that saved me was right, but I did not want to look weak. I was a Wonderbolt, after all. And she was a pegasus. But she blocked the exit to her home, steeling herself by stamping one hoof on the ground and lowering her gaze at me.

"Please," she said in a pleading tone. Her voice sounded louder, more commanding. "You'll only hurt yourself more if you try to leave. Look at yourself: You can't fly with that wing. Besides, you reopened that cut on your foreleg by walking. Y-you can’t get far, even if you force yourself."

"I'll be fine," I grunted in the same confident, but weary tone.

I managed to descend the stairs, but collapsed, too tired to continue. I forced myself to stand, but the yellow pegasus tried to stop me. I nudged her away. "Didn't you see that uniform I was in?" I asked, irritated at her stubbornness. " If you haven't noticed, I'm a Wonderbolt, and a Wonderbolt never wavers in times of weakness. All of this is just a trial that I am more than willing to endure. Now let me leave; I'm grateful of your concern, but I'm afraid I cannot accept your kindness."

"Then endure trial by letting your wounds heal here," the mare deadpanned in a motherly, but amused tone. A giggle escaped her lips as if she took delight in twisting my words.

I stammered nonsensically to create a counterargument, but ended up laughing wryly; she had won. I had no choice but to rest in her house. Sighing in resignation, I reluctantly agreed to the pegasus' terms.

I saw her smile widely as she spoke "Now let's get you back into bed" as she gingerly placed my arm on her shoulders while we ascended the stairs.

"I-I'm Soarin', by the way," I said.

"I'm… Fluttershy," she replied, hiding under her pink mane once more. Her voice was reduced to a near-inaudible squeak.

"Fluttershy," I repeated blankly. Her name sounded familiar. "Thank you for saving me."

I couldn't think of anything else to say. Fluttershy was a national hero, I soon recalled. I’ve heard stories. Having overcome obstacles with ease and annihilating travesties that can destroy even the most well-seasoned combat veterans, her prowess far surpassed mine. She had the strength of unparalleled fighters, but possessed the charity of a saint. She would speak swords, gaze javelins, feign cudgels, but use none to defeat her enemies. Even a pony who leapt into the abyss of Tartarus would be greeted by her extended hooves for one more chance. Perhaps that is why she bore the Element of Kindness.

“You're welcome," she replied, glancing back at me. A small smile appeared on her face, which was still obscured by her pink mane.

She led me back into her room and helped me back into bed. She then placed a hoof on my head, then reached for a pill and a glass of water. She told me to take it to alleviate my aching wing pain.

Fluttershy asked what happened to me, sitting on a chair next to the bed. An air of curiosity surrounded me, according to her. Besides, I had fallen from the sky and appeared in a forest bloodied up. I suppose I had to explain myself, but I was trapped in deep thought for a while; Fluttershy thought I had suffered unseen head injuries. I laughed as I reassured her that most of what happened occurred in such a vivacious turn of events that I did not know when to begin my story, for I remembered what happened before the attack, but I could not remember the attack itself. I told her that our squadron was practicing for an upcoming show, but our flight lead suddenly told us to retreat. A flight of griffins, armed with missiles, charged at us. As we fled, this strange cylindrical explosive chased after me, and shot me down.

“It all seems so strange, now that I think about it," I admitted. "The Wonderbolts are full of pegasus that have retired from the Air Force. The most we can do is rally for support. Maybe they thought that we were an attack squadron." I smiled gratefully at Fluttershy. "I'm just glad that you found me, otherwise I wouldn't be alive."

She smiled back with a serene look, although she expressed her concern with an expression of shock. She, like myself, could not understand the griffin's motives.

"I-It's over, so try not to think about it too much," Fluttershy said, standing up from the chair. "Now you rest until all of your wounds healed, okay?"

"I will."I smiled. "And thank you. For all of this."

I saw her smile gently in return as she left the room. As I lay in her bed, I felt completely tranquil. Despite my near-death injuries, despite my self-deprecation in the forest, despite my pride, I was at peace. It had been some time since I could experience such a feeling.

I could not help but feel envious of Fluttershy. She lived a satisfied life in a small house, away from a large, bustling city like Canterlot, but still held the reputation of a hero. She’s pegasus, but she rarely flew. She was a hero, but never craved the perils that surrounded it. Such tranquility was alien to me, but I found refuge in her abode. I always wanted a life like this, away from war, away from the chaos of the outside world, and bask in the tranquility of rural life.

Two weeks passed. My broken wing had been reduced to a mere fracture, thanks to Fluttershy's aid. I was still incapable of flight, however. During my stay, I tried to acquaint myself with the animals she welcomed to her home with open hooves. I became enamored with the many songbirds that took refuge around Fluttershy's abode, and spent the day listening to their jubilant serenades. They made me feel free, free from all responsibility, free from all my fears, free from the looming thought of war. There was something mystical about Fluttershy. She somehow managed to soothe all of my worries; at times, I even forgot that my wing was broken and tried to fly without thinking, much to her skittish disapproval.

Later that day, a pegasus delivered a letter to Fluttershy's doorstep. It was sealed with a Royal Canterlot emblem on one side. Curious, I flipped the envelope.

"Soarin'," it read.I tore open the envelope and immediately read the letter.

"Flight Officer Soarin', of the Solar Empire Peacekeeping Military Police, 1st Drill Squadron "'Wonderbolt,'

“You appearance is requested at the Ponyville library at noon.
“You will be given your sitrep there.

“-Princess Celestia"

I glanced at a nearby clock. It was five minutes to noon. So I left the letter on a table and rushed to the library, rather than write her a note myself.