The Weatherponyby AlicornPriestChaptersChapter 1: The Heart of MercyChapter 2: The Calm of EuterpePrologue: The Mind of HephaestusChapter 1: The Heart of Mercy9th Year of Rosy Apple October 23 Terror. They're hammering against us. I don't think the cloud hull will hold. My friends are underneath us, making sure the ship gets through, but I don't think it will. This is my time... isn't it? The earth ponies... they will kill me, just like they've killed everypony else. I'm not supposed to be afraid. Hesta's blessing, I'm meant to be strong. But I've always been a coward. I'm not meant to be on the front lines... Oh, gods and goddesses, preserve me. Don't let an arrow tear my wing. Don't let an earth pony end my life. Please, if you have any mercy...! Breathe... Sun on the 24th, rain rain rain. 12 thunderclouds arriving on the 28th; delay the attack until then. Stay behind the mountains. That's all. We're so close... so close! Once we arrive at Fort Anvil, we'll be safe. Hermes, grant us the swift winds! Just a little more-- No! Nononono! I've got to fly, I've got to escape-- No! Sun on the 24th, rain rain rain. 12 thunder-- The weatherpony changed everything. "That's it, men! Cavalry to the fore!" Five years ago, the pegasi did the impossible: they claimed the weather, the natural cycle of sun and rain, and turned it against us. When we needed light, they gave us darkness; when we needed darkness, they gave us light. They doused us in rain, then hammered us in our ruined clothing. An earth pony army that was moments away from total victory suddenly fell onto its back hooves. Two years ago, around the time I enlisted, General Sheet Lightning died, and in his place some new leader took over--Commander Hurricane, they called him. Younger, brighter, more cunning... it was like a flame had been lit that had been lying dormant for decades. "I need sling-throwers, now! Attack the defensive column!" Technology comes in fits and spurts. The earth pony discovery of agriculture created modern civilization. The unicorn invention of the experimental method changed the way we think about the world. And now this, the invention of weather control, had pushed us forward a century. Or rather, pushed them forward a century. We were still lagging behind, like fish trying to fight bears. "Amber Sun! Lead the 14th in direct combat!" "Yessir!" I hurried to get my troops into position. Our sling-throwers were taking down the cloud ship above us. Once the hull broke, we'd have direct access to the ponies inside. That would surely win us the day. For now, though, I focused on getting my troop to where the fighting was taking place. Pegasi were somewhat more difficult than unicorns, since they tended to stay in the air and throw spears or slash from above. To really keep up, you needed to get them down on the ground some way: slings, bolas, even a lasso in a pinch. My soldiers and I were masters at all of them, the best of the best. "All right, men! Let's spill their blood!" In response, they yelled a war cry and charged into the fray. I followed close behind, shield up to deflect incoming attacks. Suddenly, there was a sudden cracking noise, like wood splintering. Everypony paused and looked up. The massive cloudship was breaking apart, right on time. No, not breaking apart--it was collapsing down into the ground. It had been shoddily constructed, or we'd hit it harder than anticipated. Either way, it was a massive boon to us, as any pegasi still inside wouldn't be able to escape. They'd be easy pickings. "14s! Seize the cloudship! Kill anypony inside!" "No!" The pegasi we had been fighting swooped in to cut us off, but we ducked our heads and stampeded underneath them. Half of my contingent stood in front of one of the holes in the hull and fended them off while the rest of us slipped inside. The ship was surprisingly quiet. It seemed the belowdecks was composed of a few small rooms. In the central one we'd entered, a small lantern had hit the ground and was quietly burning by itself in the corner. I directed my soldiers to check the top deck and search the nearby rooms for survivors. I decided to look around and see if there was anything useful to salvage. It seemed pretty empty, all told--they seemed to prefer the traditional pegasus method of keeping as little around as possible. Very "spartan," as they called it. I opened one of the doors and stood agog at what I'd found. There was a pegasus, lying unconscious on the floor. She was young, not much older than my sister, who'd only just reached adulthood. Her coat and mane were a light blue, like the morning sky after a long period of rain. She bore heavy-looking saddlebags filled with books and scrolls--a rare commodity for somepony as young as her. And around her head was something I never thought I would be lucky enough to see: a green headband with a hurricane-shaped swirl on it. She was a weatherpony. I took a step forward, afraid she was only sleeping and that she'd wake up. However, she hardly moved; she must have been knocked unconscious when the ship crash-landed. I pulled out my bola and gave it a short whirl. Then, I threw it at her, locking all four of her hooves together. That got her up. In a panic, she thrashed about in her bonds, but earth pony tools are made of stronger stuff than that. She was completely incapacitated. She tried to fly but only succeeded in bumping into the walls and falling to the ground once more. I unsheathed my dagger and stood over her, ready to strike. But then I saw her eyes. I couldn't believe it at first, but she actually looked... afraid. A pegasus that wasn't ready to die in battle? Was that even possible? It would have been so easy. I'd trained my whole life for that moment. And if I'd done as I'd been trained, slit her throat and watched it dye her green headband red, everything that I'm about to describe would have never happened. Perhaps we would have held out for a few more years, or perhaps we would have beaten in a month. Either way, the light of the earth pony nation would have been extinguished. But I didn't do it. I saved one little pegasus, and because of that, I saved not one, but three nations. I clipped the tips of her feathers. They'd grow back eventually (unless I cut them again), but for the moment, that left her unable to fly. Then, I hoisted her up onto my back and carried her into the central chamber. I threw the weatherpony down onto the ground, where one of my subordinates was waiting. He seemed shocked that I'd kept her alive, but I stopped any protest by saying, "Carry her to the camp. We'll work on figuring out some kind of containment later. For now..." I exited the cloud ship and looked up at the swarm of pegasi hovering just above us. "For now, we've got a bigger problem on our hooves." "Twelve of your troops injured. Four of them severely wounded." I bowed my head and nodded gravely at the charges against me. It seemed that General Browncoat wasn't done, though. "You drew undue attention to yourself, opened up the right flank, charged blindly into an unknown situation, and for what? For a prisoner." He said this last word with such vitriol that I was shocked to hear it. "Sir, she's a weatherpony. She's a valuable source of--" "Pegasi never talk. They would rather die. You know this," he replied. He sighed and rubbed the bridge of his snout with a hoof. "I'm putting you in charge of her. It'll be your responsibility to keep her fed, clipped, and secure. If anything happens, I'll see to it you're court-martialled for it." "Understood, sir." Truthfully, I wouldn't have trusted anypony else to do the job right. I had no idea if I could get her to talk, or if she'd be any use at all to us besides bait, but from the fear I'd seen in her eyes, I figured there might be a chance. Besides, it was about time one of us showed one of them a little mercy. Once General Browncoat dismissed me, I headed to the tent where the weatherpony was being kept. If there was any hope for her--any hope for me--she needed to prove her usefulness. I prayed there was something she could do for us. If there wasn't... well, we'd be back at plan A--the green headband dyed red. Chapter 2: The Calm of EuterpeTrapped. I'm trapped, but not dead. I never would have imagined that the earth ponies would have saved my life; I didn't know they had the decency. But instead of letting me escape to return home to my family, they've chained me to this post and kept me in this tent. Like a filthy animal. ...Perhaps I was too quick to give them any decency. I am loath to imagine what they will do to me. Without my books. Without my freedom. Oh, Hesta, what's next for me? *** I lifted the tent flap and let myself into the tent where the weatherpony was being kept. She'd been given food and water—just a little, and from my own rations, no less. I'd go hungry for a few days, I supposed, but it was a small matter in comparison to the potential benefits she might give me if I could get the secrets out of her head. But first things first. “Are you okay?” I said to her, loudly enough to get her attention. She turned around and looked at me, her eyes filled with anger and loathing. Honestly, I couldn't blame her. If I'd been kidnapped by the enemy, I'd look at them about the same way. “I decided not to kill you because you're more valuable to us alive than dead. Do you understand?” She only kept looking at me, neither growing more angry nor abating in her moodiness. “Do you?” Still no response. I tried another angle. “If you don't respond, I'm taking away your food.” If she understood what I was saying, I figured that would get her to speak. But she didn't change her position, didn't flick her attention to her food bowl or seem shocked that I'd dare starve her. “...Dammit.” I hurried back out of the tent. She didn't understand a word I said, and I didn't speak any Highwing. If there was any hope of this plan bearing fruit, I'd need another option. “Does anypony here speak Unicornish?” “I do, sir!” A young private hurried up to salute me. Whitemane, if I remembered correctly. “A smart colt, huh?” I chuckled. “What brings you here among the army, then?” “Help for my mother, sir.” He paused for a moment, then talking a bit too quickly, added, “My studies weren't earning enough, you know, and the army promised they'd take care of her while--” “I understand, private. Don't need to know any more.” I gestured back to the tent. “Follow me. I need your help with a conversation.” He saluted again and followed me in. When he saw the prisoner, he gasped and walked a little closer. Stopping suddenly, he turned back and looked at me; I nodded as a signal that he could continue. Quietly, almost reverently, he walked up close to the prisoner and picked up one of her wings. “It's beautiful. So complex!” “Yes, well, that's not what I'm interested in.” I tilted my head towards her. “Let's start with her name.” “R-right, sir!” He stepped back and asked, “Was ist yoa nehmen?” The prisoner perked up at this. Puzzled, she replied, “Warm karzen kenner zees?” Whitemane looked back at me. “She wants to know why you care, sir.” I sighed and rubbed the bridge of my snout. “Because I'm trying to be polite. Look, my name's Amber Sun, and this is--” “I-I'd rather she not know my name, if it's all the same, sir.” He translated my response and my name, and she sighed and gave a rather long speech in return. “She says her name is… well, it's a bit tricky to translate, language barriers, you understand, but if I had to approximate, it'd be… 'Morning Sky?'” “Morning Sky. Makes sense.” Pegasi did love their cloud and sky names, after all. Meanwhile, I'd been named after the color of the sun bouncing off the wheat fields, while Whitemane… okay, his name was pretty obvious. Morning Sky said something else, and Whitemane stopped to listen. “She says she's surprised you didn't kill her first chance you got, sir.” “Believe me, I seriously considered it.” As Whitemane started thinking, I added, “Don't tell her that. Tell her instead… 'I know what you are. If you can be useful to us, perhaps my kind treatment will continue.'” Whiteman hesitantly relayed my message. Her response was short and simple enough that I caught the gist of it. “Safe for now. If you can be useful to us, you might get some of them back.” She thought for a moment, then replied, “Judging by how quickly you were traveling to Fort Anvil, I don't think you were heading there to trade muffin recipes.” That got a laugh out of her, which surprised me. I wondered if Whitemane had changed it in translation. “This is just the warm-up. We haven't gotten into the advanced methods of information retrieval.” Whitemane translated this with a shaky voice, which disappointed me. I wanted to give off the appearance of strength to her, but if he didn't say it the same way I did, she wouldn't get the same effect. True to form, she sat up more stiffly. I sighed and dusted off my armor. “That's enough for now, Whitemane. We'll have to come back later.” I held the tent flap open for him as he exited. He still looked shaken, so I asked him, “What's on your mind, private?” “...Are you really going to… to torture her, sir?” he asked. “If necessary… maybe.” I paused and looked out into the distance. “I don't like it, but she's a weatherpony. The weather plans she's got in her head could be of great use to us. If I'm right, it could turn the tide of battle, reset us back to our old path of victory! But that all depends on her opening up for us.” Whitemane still seemed upset, so I added, “If there's any other option, I want to try that first. If we go too hard on her at first, she may give us bad information intentionally. Or not. I don't know.” I shrugged. “This is all pretty new to me.” “Me too, sir.” *** That night, while the rest of the camp slept and prepared for the next attack, I lay on my cot, thinking. Part of it was hunger—it was hard to sleep on an empty stomach—but another part was concern. The weatherpony—no, Morning Sky—was in an undoubtedly unique position. We earth ponies never interacted with pegasi, save for on the field of battle. And she was deep in enemy territory, without kith or kin to help her. But if she could help us, I could help her, and we could end this whole charade! As I lay there, I began to hear quiet singing emanating from the tent next door. It didn't sound like traditional earth pony songs, all raucous and energetic. No, the song I was hearing had a solemn, almost plaintive melody to it. I roused myself, threw on my coat, and entered the tent. Morning Sky was sitting down on the ground, rocking back and forth as she sang. I wished I could understand the lyrics. “Hey!” She stopped, then turned to stare at me. “Don't you dare sing. You'll wake the camp up.” She waited until I was done speaking, paused a beat, then continued to sing. I stepped closer and menaced her, attempting to convey my intent through my tone. “Stop that! Now's really not the time. I'll see to it you're punished.” She looked me in the eyes; for a moment, she finally seemed cowed. She tipped her head down, and the verse she had been singing dribbled away into the night. As I turned to go back to my tent, she started humming, exactly the tune from before. I growled and spun around, but she only stared at me again and kept humming. With a sigh, I went back to my tent and laid back on my cot. Her song was… actually quite calming, now that I think about it. Despite the pains in my stomach, I began to drift away into sleep. Back then, dreams were not as they are now. Before The Lady, dreams were fickle wisps of color and sound, errant pulses flickering through our brains. I dreamed of the distant orange of the wheat fields back home, the black-gray smoke puffing out of the chimneys like an old man on his pipe. I dreamed of my wife's voice, soothing and calm at the end of the day, and the restless creaking of the crickets in the forest behind the estate. Or perhaps I've forgotten what I really dreamed of, and I recall calm, happy dreams because I imagine they must have been so on that calm, happy night. Nevertheless, I slept well, and undoubtedly dreamed well, and I worried not about the state of the army or the weatherpony for the rest of the night. Prologue: The Mind of Hephaestus4th Year of Rosy Apple April 12 “General Lightning! The siege towers are here!” Sheet Lightning sighed and ran a hoof through his grizzled mane as the courier came to him. They'd been maintaining an interminable series of fighting retreats against the earth pony hordes, and now the war had finally reached Cloudsdale. His troops could hold them back for a while, but sooner or later, the invaders would find purchase; the moment they did, it would be all over. The Skyland of the Pegasi would be no more, its people enslaved to the Earth Pony Principality. “Tell Major Stormwind to divert her attention to dismantling the towers, if she can.” It won't be enough, Lightning thought to himself. The courier nodded and flew away. He held his composure for a few seconds more, then slumped down below the campaign map he'd been analyzing. “It's over, eh?” Lightning laughed despite his mood. “Aren't you supposed to call me 'General,' Flash Freeze?” “Soon as you call me 'Director,' Ell.” Flash offered Lightning a hoof up, which he took gratefully. “Heh. Fair enough.” Lightning smiled for a moment, but it faded once reality set in again. “But yes, we're moments from defeat right now. Best-case scenario, two or three hours. If you've got any miracles back in the lab, now would be the time to bring them to me.” “Fresh out of miracles,” said Flash, “but I did bring the rest of my team with me.” He gestured to the door, where four fresh-faced young ponies, barely above the drafting age, had clustered around the threshold and were watching the two old friends catch up. Flash pointed to each one in turn. “Specialist Flyglide, weapons focus. Lieutenant Hurricane, aerotech. Eunuch Starbolt, psychodynamics. And of course, Vice-Director Echo, pretty much everything else.” The vice-director held up a burlap sack, its edges bulging as it strained to hold whatever is inside. “We brought this, too, General. A little extra pep for our last few hours.” Sheet Lightning smiled as he realized what was inside. “Is that kaffe? I thought we'd run out weeks ago!” “Saved this last bag just for you, Ell,” Flash replied. “Maybe it'll give us that miracle we need.” “Maybe it will,” Lightning said. “Let's get to work!” They toiled through the evening, but time was running out. Sheet Lightning could hear the fighting going on beneath them, making the occasional messenger reporting the battle's progress basically unnecessary. The ground troops were being killed, routed, or captured; the airborne units were being shot down with earth pony slings and spears; and Major Stormwind's anti-tower unit were doing worst of all. The leader in charge of the towers—General Shale Pie, most likely—clearly recognized the value they held, as she had an entire platoon defending them. Once one of them made contact with a street or building, the earth ponies would stand in Cloudsdale for the first time in history, and the nation of pegasi would be no more. “I have a set of prototype wingblades in storage, General,” said Flyglide. “They have a swinging action that gives them extra range—” “No good, Specialist,” Sheet Lightning replied. “Even if it were ten times more effective than regular wingblades, the earth ponies would still overrun us.” Hurricane offered, “This duck-and-whirl flight pattern I've devised is 28% faster and more accurate than—” “It'll deflect stones, but not spears.” “Hmm.” Hurricane didn't seem to fully accept this, but for the moment, he fell silent once more. “The earth ponies would be unfamiliar with cloud traversal,” said Starbolt. “Perhaps if we hid beneath the clouds and opened them as they walked beneath us—” “I will not resort to such cowardly tactics!” Sheet Lightning pounded the table, spilling the dregs of his kaffe across the table. “We will fight them, pony to pony. To do anything less would be a great dishonor.” “And likely they would catch on e'er too long,” Vice-Director Echo added. “That's why I believe it would be best to abandon Cloudsdale and seek refuge with the Unicornians. Perhaps they will be merciful and—” “Wait! Eunuch Starbolt's method has given me an idea!” Hurricane jumped up and began pulling bits and pieces of cloud from the edges of the war room. “I will not steal the cloud from beneath them, Lieutenant,” Sheet Lightning growled. “Do not try to convince me otherwise.” “No, no, this is a very different concept altogether!” He had fit them together into a makeshift platform—too round and fluffy for most pegasi's taste, but it was about as good as one could expect from thirty seconds of work. He jumped on top of it and gestured wildly as he spoke. “Most clouds we produce are like these: white, soft, docile. Good for standing on, but not much else. As you know, clouds are made up of water vapor. Though they look quite different from water, they are in fact one and the same.” “Yes, yes. We all know the basics of architecture here,” Lightning said with a wave of his hoof. “Let me finish, General. I am not speaking of architecture, but of warfare.” Hurricane then grabbed more cloud and pressed them tighter and tighter into the platform, keeping it from growing any larger. “Now, if we take both very warm and very cold cloud material and press them together—” “No, you mustn't!” Echo jumped up from her seat. “That could cause a lightning storm and kill us all!” “I assure you, Vice-Director,” Hurricane said with a wicked gleam. “That is exactly what I want.” “He's gone mad,” said Starbolt. “Perhaps he should be sent down to fight the earth ponies.” “Now, wait a moment, both of you,” Sheet Lightning said. Then to Hurricane, he asked, “Where are you going with this, Lieutenant?” “If I push precisely this much together...” The cloud beneath Hurricane rumbled and churned, but no errant sparks shot off from it. “There! The cloud is fit to burst, but it will hold.” “And what do you propose to do with such a dangerous element?” Flyglide asked. “Watch closely.” Hurricane grabbed the platform and carried it outside, above the noisy din of fighting. “If I position it above the earth ponies, then kick—” The air filled with the simultaneous sound of lightning and thunder. It was the horrible, gut-wrenching sound which meant death to any who were unfortunate enough to be around. Lightning knew without looking that every pony beneath that thundercloud was dead. That sound normally signalled tragedy; by Hurricane's hoof, it was now a sound of victory. “I… I can't believe it,” said Echo. “You've controlled lightning. I didn't think it was possible.” “You've turned weather into a weapon,” Flyglide added. “If we act quickly, we can probably construct enough thunderclouds to defend Cloudsdale, at least long enough to get our defenses back into order,” said Hurricane, coming back in. “We can destroy the towers in seconds!” Flyglide said. “The earth ponies will run in terror!” Starbolt continued. “Go, make more of the lieutenant's clouds now!” Lightning ordered them. While they headed out, he added, “Lieutenant, come here.” Hurricane landed next to him. He seemed both proud of his achievement and uncertain at Sheet Lightning's call. “Sir?” Lightning smiled. “I'll see you promoted for this, Hurricane. You've turned the tide of the war. I wouldn't be surprised if you're General once I'm gone.” Hurricane absolutely beamed. “Thank you, sir. I'm honored.” “But I have a feeling,” Lightning continued, “that you're not done yet. What else can we do with this?” “I'm impressed, sir,” said Hurricane. “You're right. I have much more in mind for this. We use clouds to construct our homes, our camps, our fortresses. But we forget that these clouds are instruments of weather as well. I believe, with the right set of tools, we can create clouds which will serve any strategic need. Rainclouds to hide our advance and to slow the earth ponies, clear skies for the moment of attack. Snow, tornadoes, all manner of hindrances.” “You're saying you want to control the weather,” General Lightning said doubtfully. “I understand your concerns, General,” Hurricane replied. “We've balked at interfering with the natural weather cycle in fear it might cause droughts, floods, and other such problems. But I believe I could organize a team of scientists to study the patterns of weather and how and at what point they can be manipulated. These… 'meteorologists,' I shall call them, would need their own set of funds, as well as a cloud factory specific to their purposes.” “And would you be Director over them?” “Yes. Only...” Neither of them wanted to say what that would entail. Only military-track pegasi could reach the level of General and thereby rule the Skyland. A Director, be they of science, strategy, or any other sub-field, was out of the running. General Lightning paused for a moment, then pushed onward. “You've revolutionized the art of warfare, Hurricane. I believe the time has come for science and war to be of one mind. I want you to be Director of Meteorology and General of the Pegasi Skyland.” Hurricane seemed confused. “I… don't understand.” “I'm saying, when I die, it will not be a General that takes over my reign. It will be you… Commander Hurricane.”
Chapter 1: The Heart of Mercy9th Year of Rosy Apple October 23 Terror. They're hammering against us. I don't think the cloud hull will hold. My friends are underneath us, making sure the ship gets through, but I don't think it will. This is my time... isn't it? The earth ponies... they will kill me, just like they've killed everypony else. I'm not supposed to be afraid. Hesta's blessing, I'm meant to be strong. But I've always been a coward. I'm not meant to be on the front lines... Oh, gods and goddesses, preserve me. Don't let an arrow tear my wing. Don't let an earth pony end my life. Please, if you have any mercy...! Breathe... Sun on the 24th, rain rain rain. 12 thunderclouds arriving on the 28th; delay the attack until then. Stay behind the mountains. That's all. We're so close... so close! Once we arrive at Fort Anvil, we'll be safe. Hermes, grant us the swift winds! Just a little more-- No! Nononono! I've got to fly, I've got to escape-- No! Sun on the 24th, rain rain rain. 12 thunder-- The weatherpony changed everything. "That's it, men! Cavalry to the fore!" Five years ago, the pegasi did the impossible: they claimed the weather, the natural cycle of sun and rain, and turned it against us. When we needed light, they gave us darkness; when we needed darkness, they gave us light. They doused us in rain, then hammered us in our ruined clothing. An earth pony army that was moments away from total victory suddenly fell onto its back hooves. Two years ago, around the time I enlisted, General Sheet Lightning died, and in his place some new leader took over--Commander Hurricane, they called him. Younger, brighter, more cunning... it was like a flame had been lit that had been lying dormant for decades. "I need sling-throwers, now! Attack the defensive column!" Technology comes in fits and spurts. The earth pony discovery of agriculture created modern civilization. The unicorn invention of the experimental method changed the way we think about the world. And now this, the invention of weather control, had pushed us forward a century. Or rather, pushed them forward a century. We were still lagging behind, like fish trying to fight bears. "Amber Sun! Lead the 14th in direct combat!" "Yessir!" I hurried to get my troops into position. Our sling-throwers were taking down the cloud ship above us. Once the hull broke, we'd have direct access to the ponies inside. That would surely win us the day. For now, though, I focused on getting my troop to where the fighting was taking place. Pegasi were somewhat more difficult than unicorns, since they tended to stay in the air and throw spears or slash from above. To really keep up, you needed to get them down on the ground some way: slings, bolas, even a lasso in a pinch. My soldiers and I were masters at all of them, the best of the best. "All right, men! Let's spill their blood!" In response, they yelled a war cry and charged into the fray. I followed close behind, shield up to deflect incoming attacks. Suddenly, there was a sudden cracking noise, like wood splintering. Everypony paused and looked up. The massive cloudship was breaking apart, right on time. No, not breaking apart--it was collapsing down into the ground. It had been shoddily constructed, or we'd hit it harder than anticipated. Either way, it was a massive boon to us, as any pegasi still inside wouldn't be able to escape. They'd be easy pickings. "14s! Seize the cloudship! Kill anypony inside!" "No!" The pegasi we had been fighting swooped in to cut us off, but we ducked our heads and stampeded underneath them. Half of my contingent stood in front of one of the holes in the hull and fended them off while the rest of us slipped inside. The ship was surprisingly quiet. It seemed the belowdecks was composed of a few small rooms. In the central one we'd entered, a small lantern had hit the ground and was quietly burning by itself in the corner. I directed my soldiers to check the top deck and search the nearby rooms for survivors. I decided to look around and see if there was anything useful to salvage. It seemed pretty empty, all told--they seemed to prefer the traditional pegasus method of keeping as little around as possible. Very "spartan," as they called it. I opened one of the doors and stood agog at what I'd found. There was a pegasus, lying unconscious on the floor. She was young, not much older than my sister, who'd only just reached adulthood. Her coat and mane were a light blue, like the morning sky after a long period of rain. She bore heavy-looking saddlebags filled with books and scrolls--a rare commodity for somepony as young as her. And around her head was something I never thought I would be lucky enough to see: a green headband with a hurricane-shaped swirl on it. She was a weatherpony. I took a step forward, afraid she was only sleeping and that she'd wake up. However, she hardly moved; she must have been knocked unconscious when the ship crash-landed. I pulled out my bola and gave it a short whirl. Then, I threw it at her, locking all four of her hooves together. That got her up. In a panic, she thrashed about in her bonds, but earth pony tools are made of stronger stuff than that. She was completely incapacitated. She tried to fly but only succeeded in bumping into the walls and falling to the ground once more. I unsheathed my dagger and stood over her, ready to strike. But then I saw her eyes. I couldn't believe it at first, but she actually looked... afraid. A pegasus that wasn't ready to die in battle? Was that even possible? It would have been so easy. I'd trained my whole life for that moment. And if I'd done as I'd been trained, slit her throat and watched it dye her green headband red, everything that I'm about to describe would have never happened. Perhaps we would have held out for a few more years, or perhaps we would have beaten in a month. Either way, the light of the earth pony nation would have been extinguished. But I didn't do it. I saved one little pegasus, and because of that, I saved not one, but three nations. I clipped the tips of her feathers. They'd grow back eventually (unless I cut them again), but for the moment, that left her unable to fly. Then, I hoisted her up onto my back and carried her into the central chamber. I threw the weatherpony down onto the ground, where one of my subordinates was waiting. He seemed shocked that I'd kept her alive, but I stopped any protest by saying, "Carry her to the camp. We'll work on figuring out some kind of containment later. For now..." I exited the cloud ship and looked up at the swarm of pegasi hovering just above us. "For now, we've got a bigger problem on our hooves." "Twelve of your troops injured. Four of them severely wounded." I bowed my head and nodded gravely at the charges against me. It seemed that General Browncoat wasn't done, though. "You drew undue attention to yourself, opened up the right flank, charged blindly into an unknown situation, and for what? For a prisoner." He said this last word with such vitriol that I was shocked to hear it. "Sir, she's a weatherpony. She's a valuable source of--" "Pegasi never talk. They would rather die. You know this," he replied. He sighed and rubbed the bridge of his snout with a hoof. "I'm putting you in charge of her. It'll be your responsibility to keep her fed, clipped, and secure. If anything happens, I'll see to it you're court-martialled for it." "Understood, sir." Truthfully, I wouldn't have trusted anypony else to do the job right. I had no idea if I could get her to talk, or if she'd be any use at all to us besides bait, but from the fear I'd seen in her eyes, I figured there might be a chance. Besides, it was about time one of us showed one of them a little mercy. Once General Browncoat dismissed me, I headed to the tent where the weatherpony was being kept. If there was any hope for her--any hope for me--she needed to prove her usefulness. I prayed there was something she could do for us. If there wasn't... well, we'd be back at plan A--the green headband dyed red.
Chapter 2: The Calm of EuterpeTrapped. I'm trapped, but not dead. I never would have imagined that the earth ponies would have saved my life; I didn't know they had the decency. But instead of letting me escape to return home to my family, they've chained me to this post and kept me in this tent. Like a filthy animal. ...Perhaps I was too quick to give them any decency. I am loath to imagine what they will do to me. Without my books. Without my freedom. Oh, Hesta, what's next for me? *** I lifted the tent flap and let myself into the tent where the weatherpony was being kept. She'd been given food and water—just a little, and from my own rations, no less. I'd go hungry for a few days, I supposed, but it was a small matter in comparison to the potential benefits she might give me if I could get the secrets out of her head. But first things first. “Are you okay?” I said to her, loudly enough to get her attention. She turned around and looked at me, her eyes filled with anger and loathing. Honestly, I couldn't blame her. If I'd been kidnapped by the enemy, I'd look at them about the same way. “I decided not to kill you because you're more valuable to us alive than dead. Do you understand?” She only kept looking at me, neither growing more angry nor abating in her moodiness. “Do you?” Still no response. I tried another angle. “If you don't respond, I'm taking away your food.” If she understood what I was saying, I figured that would get her to speak. But she didn't change her position, didn't flick her attention to her food bowl or seem shocked that I'd dare starve her. “...Dammit.” I hurried back out of the tent. She didn't understand a word I said, and I didn't speak any Highwing. If there was any hope of this plan bearing fruit, I'd need another option. “Does anypony here speak Unicornish?” “I do, sir!” A young private hurried up to salute me. Whitemane, if I remembered correctly. “A smart colt, huh?” I chuckled. “What brings you here among the army, then?” “Help for my mother, sir.” He paused for a moment, then talking a bit too quickly, added, “My studies weren't earning enough, you know, and the army promised they'd take care of her while--” “I understand, private. Don't need to know any more.” I gestured back to the tent. “Follow me. I need your help with a conversation.” He saluted again and followed me in. When he saw the prisoner, he gasped and walked a little closer. Stopping suddenly, he turned back and looked at me; I nodded as a signal that he could continue. Quietly, almost reverently, he walked up close to the prisoner and picked up one of her wings. “It's beautiful. So complex!” “Yes, well, that's not what I'm interested in.” I tilted my head towards her. “Let's start with her name.” “R-right, sir!” He stepped back and asked, “Was ist yoa nehmen?” The prisoner perked up at this. Puzzled, she replied, “Warm karzen kenner zees?” Whitemane looked back at me. “She wants to know why you care, sir.” I sighed and rubbed the bridge of my snout. “Because I'm trying to be polite. Look, my name's Amber Sun, and this is--” “I-I'd rather she not know my name, if it's all the same, sir.” He translated my response and my name, and she sighed and gave a rather long speech in return. “She says her name is… well, it's a bit tricky to translate, language barriers, you understand, but if I had to approximate, it'd be… 'Morning Sky?'” “Morning Sky. Makes sense.” Pegasi did love their cloud and sky names, after all. Meanwhile, I'd been named after the color of the sun bouncing off the wheat fields, while Whitemane… okay, his name was pretty obvious. Morning Sky said something else, and Whitemane stopped to listen. “She says she's surprised you didn't kill her first chance you got, sir.” “Believe me, I seriously considered it.” As Whitemane started thinking, I added, “Don't tell her that. Tell her instead… 'I know what you are. If you can be useful to us, perhaps my kind treatment will continue.'” Whiteman hesitantly relayed my message. Her response was short and simple enough that I caught the gist of it. “Safe for now. If you can be useful to us, you might get some of them back.” She thought for a moment, then replied, “Judging by how quickly you were traveling to Fort Anvil, I don't think you were heading there to trade muffin recipes.” That got a laugh out of her, which surprised me. I wondered if Whitemane had changed it in translation. “This is just the warm-up. We haven't gotten into the advanced methods of information retrieval.” Whitemane translated this with a shaky voice, which disappointed me. I wanted to give off the appearance of strength to her, but if he didn't say it the same way I did, she wouldn't get the same effect. True to form, she sat up more stiffly. I sighed and dusted off my armor. “That's enough for now, Whitemane. We'll have to come back later.” I held the tent flap open for him as he exited. He still looked shaken, so I asked him, “What's on your mind, private?” “...Are you really going to… to torture her, sir?” he asked. “If necessary… maybe.” I paused and looked out into the distance. “I don't like it, but she's a weatherpony. The weather plans she's got in her head could be of great use to us. If I'm right, it could turn the tide of battle, reset us back to our old path of victory! But that all depends on her opening up for us.” Whitemane still seemed upset, so I added, “If there's any other option, I want to try that first. If we go too hard on her at first, she may give us bad information intentionally. Or not. I don't know.” I shrugged. “This is all pretty new to me.” “Me too, sir.” *** That night, while the rest of the camp slept and prepared for the next attack, I lay on my cot, thinking. Part of it was hunger—it was hard to sleep on an empty stomach—but another part was concern. The weatherpony—no, Morning Sky—was in an undoubtedly unique position. We earth ponies never interacted with pegasi, save for on the field of battle. And she was deep in enemy territory, without kith or kin to help her. But if she could help us, I could help her, and we could end this whole charade! As I lay there, I began to hear quiet singing emanating from the tent next door. It didn't sound like traditional earth pony songs, all raucous and energetic. No, the song I was hearing had a solemn, almost plaintive melody to it. I roused myself, threw on my coat, and entered the tent. Morning Sky was sitting down on the ground, rocking back and forth as she sang. I wished I could understand the lyrics. “Hey!” She stopped, then turned to stare at me. “Don't you dare sing. You'll wake the camp up.” She waited until I was done speaking, paused a beat, then continued to sing. I stepped closer and menaced her, attempting to convey my intent through my tone. “Stop that! Now's really not the time. I'll see to it you're punished.” She looked me in the eyes; for a moment, she finally seemed cowed. She tipped her head down, and the verse she had been singing dribbled away into the night. As I turned to go back to my tent, she started humming, exactly the tune from before. I growled and spun around, but she only stared at me again and kept humming. With a sigh, I went back to my tent and laid back on my cot. Her song was… actually quite calming, now that I think about it. Despite the pains in my stomach, I began to drift away into sleep. Back then, dreams were not as they are now. Before The Lady, dreams were fickle wisps of color and sound, errant pulses flickering through our brains. I dreamed of the distant orange of the wheat fields back home, the black-gray smoke puffing out of the chimneys like an old man on his pipe. I dreamed of my wife's voice, soothing and calm at the end of the day, and the restless creaking of the crickets in the forest behind the estate. Or perhaps I've forgotten what I really dreamed of, and I recall calm, happy dreams because I imagine they must have been so on that calm, happy night. Nevertheless, I slept well, and undoubtedly dreamed well, and I worried not about the state of the army or the weatherpony for the rest of the night.
Prologue: The Mind of Hephaestus4th Year of Rosy Apple April 12 “General Lightning! The siege towers are here!” Sheet Lightning sighed and ran a hoof through his grizzled mane as the courier came to him. They'd been maintaining an interminable series of fighting retreats against the earth pony hordes, and now the war had finally reached Cloudsdale. His troops could hold them back for a while, but sooner or later, the invaders would find purchase; the moment they did, it would be all over. The Skyland of the Pegasi would be no more, its people enslaved to the Earth Pony Principality. “Tell Major Stormwind to divert her attention to dismantling the towers, if she can.” It won't be enough, Lightning thought to himself. The courier nodded and flew away. He held his composure for a few seconds more, then slumped down below the campaign map he'd been analyzing. “It's over, eh?” Lightning laughed despite his mood. “Aren't you supposed to call me 'General,' Flash Freeze?” “Soon as you call me 'Director,' Ell.” Flash offered Lightning a hoof up, which he took gratefully. “Heh. Fair enough.” Lightning smiled for a moment, but it faded once reality set in again. “But yes, we're moments from defeat right now. Best-case scenario, two or three hours. If you've got any miracles back in the lab, now would be the time to bring them to me.” “Fresh out of miracles,” said Flash, “but I did bring the rest of my team with me.” He gestured to the door, where four fresh-faced young ponies, barely above the drafting age, had clustered around the threshold and were watching the two old friends catch up. Flash pointed to each one in turn. “Specialist Flyglide, weapons focus. Lieutenant Hurricane, aerotech. Eunuch Starbolt, psychodynamics. And of course, Vice-Director Echo, pretty much everything else.” The vice-director held up a burlap sack, its edges bulging as it strained to hold whatever is inside. “We brought this, too, General. A little extra pep for our last few hours.” Sheet Lightning smiled as he realized what was inside. “Is that kaffe? I thought we'd run out weeks ago!” “Saved this last bag just for you, Ell,” Flash replied. “Maybe it'll give us that miracle we need.” “Maybe it will,” Lightning said. “Let's get to work!” They toiled through the evening, but time was running out. Sheet Lightning could hear the fighting going on beneath them, making the occasional messenger reporting the battle's progress basically unnecessary. The ground troops were being killed, routed, or captured; the airborne units were being shot down with earth pony slings and spears; and Major Stormwind's anti-tower unit were doing worst of all. The leader in charge of the towers—General Shale Pie, most likely—clearly recognized the value they held, as she had an entire platoon defending them. Once one of them made contact with a street or building, the earth ponies would stand in Cloudsdale for the first time in history, and the nation of pegasi would be no more. “I have a set of prototype wingblades in storage, General,” said Flyglide. “They have a swinging action that gives them extra range—” “No good, Specialist,” Sheet Lightning replied. “Even if it were ten times more effective than regular wingblades, the earth ponies would still overrun us.” Hurricane offered, “This duck-and-whirl flight pattern I've devised is 28% faster and more accurate than—” “It'll deflect stones, but not spears.” “Hmm.” Hurricane didn't seem to fully accept this, but for the moment, he fell silent once more. “The earth ponies would be unfamiliar with cloud traversal,” said Starbolt. “Perhaps if we hid beneath the clouds and opened them as they walked beneath us—” “I will not resort to such cowardly tactics!” Sheet Lightning pounded the table, spilling the dregs of his kaffe across the table. “We will fight them, pony to pony. To do anything less would be a great dishonor.” “And likely they would catch on e'er too long,” Vice-Director Echo added. “That's why I believe it would be best to abandon Cloudsdale and seek refuge with the Unicornians. Perhaps they will be merciful and—” “Wait! Eunuch Starbolt's method has given me an idea!” Hurricane jumped up and began pulling bits and pieces of cloud from the edges of the war room. “I will not steal the cloud from beneath them, Lieutenant,” Sheet Lightning growled. “Do not try to convince me otherwise.” “No, no, this is a very different concept altogether!” He had fit them together into a makeshift platform—too round and fluffy for most pegasi's taste, but it was about as good as one could expect from thirty seconds of work. He jumped on top of it and gestured wildly as he spoke. “Most clouds we produce are like these: white, soft, docile. Good for standing on, but not much else. As you know, clouds are made up of water vapor. Though they look quite different from water, they are in fact one and the same.” “Yes, yes. We all know the basics of architecture here,” Lightning said with a wave of his hoof. “Let me finish, General. I am not speaking of architecture, but of warfare.” Hurricane then grabbed more cloud and pressed them tighter and tighter into the platform, keeping it from growing any larger. “Now, if we take both very warm and very cold cloud material and press them together—” “No, you mustn't!” Echo jumped up from her seat. “That could cause a lightning storm and kill us all!” “I assure you, Vice-Director,” Hurricane said with a wicked gleam. “That is exactly what I want.” “He's gone mad,” said Starbolt. “Perhaps he should be sent down to fight the earth ponies.” “Now, wait a moment, both of you,” Sheet Lightning said. Then to Hurricane, he asked, “Where are you going with this, Lieutenant?” “If I push precisely this much together...” The cloud beneath Hurricane rumbled and churned, but no errant sparks shot off from it. “There! The cloud is fit to burst, but it will hold.” “And what do you propose to do with such a dangerous element?” Flyglide asked. “Watch closely.” Hurricane grabbed the platform and carried it outside, above the noisy din of fighting. “If I position it above the earth ponies, then kick—” The air filled with the simultaneous sound of lightning and thunder. It was the horrible, gut-wrenching sound which meant death to any who were unfortunate enough to be around. Lightning knew without looking that every pony beneath that thundercloud was dead. That sound normally signalled tragedy; by Hurricane's hoof, it was now a sound of victory. “I… I can't believe it,” said Echo. “You've controlled lightning. I didn't think it was possible.” “You've turned weather into a weapon,” Flyglide added. “If we act quickly, we can probably construct enough thunderclouds to defend Cloudsdale, at least long enough to get our defenses back into order,” said Hurricane, coming back in. “We can destroy the towers in seconds!” Flyglide said. “The earth ponies will run in terror!” Starbolt continued. “Go, make more of the lieutenant's clouds now!” Lightning ordered them. While they headed out, he added, “Lieutenant, come here.” Hurricane landed next to him. He seemed both proud of his achievement and uncertain at Sheet Lightning's call. “Sir?” Lightning smiled. “I'll see you promoted for this, Hurricane. You've turned the tide of the war. I wouldn't be surprised if you're General once I'm gone.” Hurricane absolutely beamed. “Thank you, sir. I'm honored.” “But I have a feeling,” Lightning continued, “that you're not done yet. What else can we do with this?” “I'm impressed, sir,” said Hurricane. “You're right. I have much more in mind for this. We use clouds to construct our homes, our camps, our fortresses. But we forget that these clouds are instruments of weather as well. I believe, with the right set of tools, we can create clouds which will serve any strategic need. Rainclouds to hide our advance and to slow the earth ponies, clear skies for the moment of attack. Snow, tornadoes, all manner of hindrances.” “You're saying you want to control the weather,” General Lightning said doubtfully. “I understand your concerns, General,” Hurricane replied. “We've balked at interfering with the natural weather cycle in fear it might cause droughts, floods, and other such problems. But I believe I could organize a team of scientists to study the patterns of weather and how and at what point they can be manipulated. These… 'meteorologists,' I shall call them, would need their own set of funds, as well as a cloud factory specific to their purposes.” “And would you be Director over them?” “Yes. Only...” Neither of them wanted to say what that would entail. Only military-track pegasi could reach the level of General and thereby rule the Skyland. A Director, be they of science, strategy, or any other sub-field, was out of the running. General Lightning paused for a moment, then pushed onward. “You've revolutionized the art of warfare, Hurricane. I believe the time has come for science and war to be of one mind. I want you to be Director of Meteorology and General of the Pegasi Skyland.” Hurricane seemed confused. “I… don't understand.” “I'm saying, when I die, it will not be a General that takes over my reign. It will be you… Commander Hurricane.”
