Soldiers

Sunrise. The stench of blood and steel still hung thick, and a battlefield covered in the dead greeted them. Standing despite his deep weariness, alongside his fellow healer and priest Gordon, Sunlight Blade overlooked the battlefield, frowning. He could see the enemy army. it had regrouped, rallied. It was approaching once more. It’d been less than a day.

“Hive Minds have a definite advantage,” he muttered bitterly, “To regroup so swiftly.”

“It’s not looking good, no,” Gordon sighed quietly, “But… at least we bought them time to figure something out. Right?”

Sunlight grimaced. That was true, as much as he didn’t want to think about it, there was no real way any of them were coming out of the coming days alive. Not if they fought, and nobody left an enemy army on their tail. Not if they had a choice.

“Not if you’re not here to die,” He said grimly. Gordon felt a shiver up his spine and he looked sideways at his friend. Something about his look made him uneasy, “We were meant to be reinforced weeks ago. They never arrived. I think it’s safe to say they won’t be coming now. But I won’t see all the people I had behind me die. Not now.”

“What did you have planned?” Gordon queried warily. Sunlight’s jaw tightened, as did his hold on the sword he’d recovered to replace his old one.

“A retreat… And I will stay behind to stall them,” He replied grimly, much to Gordon’s alarm, “I can’t hold them long. But a force that big takes more time to move, and any amount of time I can stall will mean more of you survive.”

“That’s crazy!” Gordon cried, “You’ll be killed for certain! That’s an army Sunlight! Think about this!”

“I have,” the finality of his tone shut the griffon’s beak quickly, “If given the choice, I’d rather I die, and you all live, than we all die here. If nothing else, we can add whoever lives through here back to the next force that fights these bastards.”

Gordon was quiet, but eventually he sighed, and left, resigning himself to losing a friend. Another one.

Within the hour, Sunlight had prepared his several hundred survivors into a cohesive enough unit to take the wounded with them when they left, telling them he’d be ‘right behind you!’ after he finished a few things. He never joined them. And so, when the enemy army arrived, it was just Sunlight Blade, standing tall, surrounded by the dead, and looking determined.

“Changelings of the Mad Queen!” He called, pulling out every shred of courage he had left to face his death, and stall as long as he could, “Lay down your arms! Return to the lands of the Sane, and cast off your tyrant! If you do, I swear, I will spare each and every one of you.”

The sound of laughter rattled around his soul. He’d expected as much. He was alone, against a horde of apocalyptic proportions. Why fear one unicorn? His grip on his sword tightened, and he took a deep breath as, as one, the army started marching forward. No need to rush, against one enemy.

Such a Fool, Sunlight Blade. Where do you get off thinking you can halt them, even for a moment?

He closed his eyes with a deep breath, letting the tromp of their boots fade from his mind as he began to pray.

Celestia, bless me with your grace. The strength to fight this, my greatest foe, for the sake of my comrades. My people. And your kingdom. Lend me your strength, and give me the fortitude to weather the oncoming storm, that I might see your sun rise once more.

He reached deep for his magic reserves, still depleted after his last battle, and opened his eyes, horn blazing with heat and mana as he summoned his armour, a dozen blazing blades burning with heat forming behind him as he took a grounded stance.

“So be it!” he called in response to their march, before abandoning all defense, and charging towards the oncoming horde, sword swinging, magic blazing in a whirling dervish of death and fire. The smell of burnt flesh filled his nostrils again as he hacked and slashed at who and whatever brought itself within range. He felt the impacts of countless blades slamming into his ethereal armour. His reserves, already low, were rapidly dwindling. A reckless swing at a nearby swordsman saw his head clear his fellows, a trail of blood following the curve of the blade’s tip as it followed through.

And then, impact. He felt it on his chest, and it knocked the wind out of him. His magical armour shattered, and time slowed. In shocking slow motion, he turned his head as he lost the ground beneath him. A larger, stronger looking changeling. A cruel intelligence in his eye and a warhammer still slamming into his quarry’s sternum.

Sunlight wasn’t sure how far he fell. It felt like miles until he hit the ground. He had lost his sword some time between being hit, and landing. And he had no idea where it had gone along such a short time. Everything hurt. His horn sparked uselessly as he tried to call on his magic. Empty. The commander approached. He was only aware of it as the ‘ling entered his field of vision, a smug look on his face.

“Admirable courage,” The commander said sarcastically, “But stupid. Very, very stupid. You killed enough of my drones, now I get the pleasure of putting you down myself.”

Celestia… I need your help now. And if not you, anyone. Anything. I will give you anything, if you just give me the power to stall them longer!

His horn sparked again, and the creature above him laughed, echoed among his fellows. But something was different. Something called to him. Something vast. Something bottomless.

Without question, Sunlight embraced it.

And in that moment, his horn blazed back to life, spitting fire and plasma as he felt energy. Limitless, hot, burning. Powerful. With a roar, he pushed, and the look of shock on the Changeling’s face became one of pain as a burning shockwave burst forth, flinging the surrounding soldiers across their own ranks as Sunlight stood tall. There was so much. it burned. It hurt. He could feel it, mana flowing from everything. His eyes overflowed with it. He couldn’t stop it bursting from his horn, his very pores leaked it, giving him an almost ethereal, elemental appearance as heat shimmer cloaked him scorching power. The ground beneath his feet rapidly scorched, burning away as he stood tall. Dimly, he heard the call to kill him.

Bring it.

With another roar, and a surge of mana, his armour reformed around him, blades swinging into existence. Without thought, he sent the entire lot of them spinning through the ranks of changelings, not watching as they scythed through the troops as they touched them, throwing out his arm as pure energy whipped out of his fingertips, turning to burning plasma as they travelled, draping over and, indeed, cutting right through the ranks. The other hand thrown out as an explosion rocked the air and earth as he let loose. Everything that got close was burned away, scorched to ashes and atoms.

And then, suddenly, it was too much. With a scream, he tried to vent it. Anywhere. Everywhere. Beams of white hot light burst from the cuts on his flesh, from his eyes, ears, his horn became a pillar of burning pain searing into his skull. He felt something running down his face, and then the power was gone. A wave of nausea hit him, and then pain. His golden armour, the pride and joy of the Equestrian Royal Forces, was molten upon the ground, with only patches of what he was wearing still on him. And this time, the army, what was left of it after such brutality, looked at him in abject terror. He turned his eyes on them…

And then an explosion rocked the world, he lost his balance, and he fell. Vaguely, he made out screams of fear and pain, and then white feathers. He thought they were feathers, anyway. Familiar voices. Something tan, with wings. There was something awfully familiar about the noises it was making. So familiar….

He blacked out, finally unable to keep holding on, the pain fading into blissful oblivion.