The Siege Of Canterlot

The Changelings were happy. The Shadow Army was happy. Their leaders, the newlyweds, watched on through telescopes from the viewing platform at the border post where their lands entwined as the Shadow Cavalry stormed through the Equestrian lines, followed by the infantry and supported by groups of Changeling infiltrators, bursting from tunnels behind the defences. That was a specialty of the Queen's forces; underground warfare, digging tunnels as they did to build their magnificent subterranean Hive cities, vast edifices unseen from the air save for a few openings dotted here and there, but just as labyrinthine beneath the surface as the twisting backstreets of Canterlot's old town or the mixture of warehouses and slums of Baltimare's dockside district. Tunneling beneath an enemy's defensive line to spring up in their rear like a jack-in-the-box was an effective tactic, and one which Trottingham had not been sufficiently prepared for.

The town had fallen in relatively short order, as the King and Queen had expected, with only the barracks still in enemy hands as night descended. The ponies there were fighting tenaciously, despite no prospect of relief. The Changeling scouts had reported that they had successfully intercepted every one of the messenger Pegasi who had tried to flee the city, some in disguise as civilians. They had also taken care of as many of the civilians who had fled by road before the battle as they could find, but could not reassure their leaders they had killed all of them. No matter; by the time they reached the forts of the Corona Line, the battle would probably be over and their armies regrouping to press onward. Time and the element of surprise were in their favour; they had the initiative, that rather perfidious yet vital characteristic of warfare. They acted, Equestria reacted. That was the key, and it would be the key to their continued success.

The defences around the barracks kept up volleys of fire that held the Changelings and Shadow Army at bay until nightfall, and then the firing slackened, imperceptibly at first but becoming more apparent after some twenty minutes where the drones were able to make progress from the north and gain control of one of the outbuildings, finding only the Equestrian dead left behind. They breached the doors of the main barracks itself. Again, nothing but the smell of spent powder and spilled blood. The Equestrian troops had vanished. Some, those in the smaller outer buildings and surrounding houses, had surrendered, but the bulk of resistance had evaporated, disappeared. Were they hiding in some secret room or behind hidden panels ready to leap out in ambush?

The Changelings used their keen senses to sniff out any hidden enemies, but found nothing. A prowling search of the compound revealed none save their own kind and those wearing Shadow Army colours. In the cellar, however, they found something startling. Not so much a cellar, in truth, as a powder magazine; barrels upon barrels of unused gunpowder, meant for the city's cannons, had been stockpiled there for safekeeping. That was not the alarming part. The alarming part was the slowly burning fuse which had been smouldering for some considerable time while the Equestrians made their withdrawal. In the well-sealed room it bad been making extremely delayed headway after using up much of the oxygen in the cellar, so as to buy time for the withdrawal. The opening of the cellar door caused an inrush of fresh air from above, wafting the flame back into a more sprightly life, and allowing it to complete the very small portion of its remaining journey before the Changelings could do much more than hiss out a few panicked warnings.

"It seems that victory in this initial engagement is ours, my love," King Sombra smiled happily as he stood with Chrysalis, looking out over the distant border and the city of Trottingham, where the flags of both invading armies had been flown from the top of the tallest watchtower as a signal of success.

"Was there ever any doubt?" Chrysalis replied with a laugh and a flick of her forked tongue. "Equestria is arrogant decadent. Just like their Princess. We shall put her and her followers in their rightful place...beneath the heels of our boots."

"Well said, my lady," Sombra chuckled. "It is what they deserve. It may have passed from the memories of most, but we still remember the injustices meted out upon our peoples at the behest of Celestia. We have not forgotten, and we have not forgiven. All shall be made right soon enough. This is but the first step."

A bright flash lit the northern sky, and a plume of orange fire leapt from the distant city, startling both of them. A few seconds of wordless silence passed before the rumbling thunder reached them.

"What was that...?" Chrysalis asked the obvious question.

"I do not know," Sombra gave the obvious reply. "But we shall find out. Let us hope that, whatever it was, it does not delay us for too long."

"I am sure it will be but a momentary hiccup, my King. Our advance shall continue as planned," Chrysalis assured him. "All the way to Canterlot."

The advance east had continued apace, and the Holy Army had pressed on to the Hornburg, the central fort of the defensive line of the same name that protected Saint Swiftmane's Pass. It was a large, multi-layered construct, businesslike in appearance, with buttressed walls of solid stone surrounded on either side by thick layers of compacted earth, a wide moat around the outside, and a complex of low buildings at the centre. It was modern and while it may not have looked quite like the archetypal fairytale castle, it was far more suited for modern war.

A low silhouette and earthen reinforcement of its curtain wall made it a much harder target for an enemy's artillery than the older, more traditional designs with great high ramparts and tall towers. The fortress was arranged in a shape roughly analogous to Celestia's cutie mark, with a central ring, the curtain wall, surrounded by protruding bastions, sprouting like a starfish's limbs, eight in total. Each contained a number of heavy guns and smaller supporting artillery, and could be lined with musketponies for extra firepower, as could the walls in between. Each bastion could support each other with flanking fire, catching enemy troops in a deadly enfilade if they tried to storm the wall in between. If one bastion was under attack, its steep walls could be raked with grapeshot and musketry to help throw back an assault. Most forts and hardened cities, including Canterlot, had a similar design of interlocking bastions and ravelins for mutual support.

The Hornburg guarded the straightest route to the mountain pass, but without a strong force in the field, the Changelings could still move to and control it. The fortress was not built at the entrance to the pass, for that would have involved an astronomical cost, given the nature of the terrain, and it could simply not be afforded. Instead it had been placed on the high ground that dominated the outer foothills. Everything beyond it was flat, open ground, ideal for manoeuvring armies. Everything behind it was small valleys, mountain streams, hills of varying sizes and gradients. It was possible, especially for a mobile and fast-moving army like the Changelings, to operate in such terrain, but it was most definitely not ideal, and it was no place to deploy for open battle. If the Holy Army were to meet the Changelings in combat, it would have to be on the open plains.

Celestia met with the commander of the Hornburg garrison, General Spectre. A unicorn from an established noble family, born and raised in the eastern marches, Spectre was a perfect fit for the recently constructed fortress. He had formerly been commandant of one of the lesser castles further east, and prior to that an accomplished artillerypony, commanding the left flank's guns at the famed Battle of Spearpoint, one of the last major engagements that the Equestrian army had fought in its long and illustrious history, ending the Griffons' constant attempts to gain territory in Equestria's northwest one and for all. The battle had been fifty years ago, meaning that Spectre, who had been a young Captain, promoted early to command of the guns because of his talent, was now an old grey stallion, bent and withered, though not when in the presence of his Princess, who could induce any stallion to stand firm.

"You will be riding out at dawn, Your Highness?" Spectre asked, standing upon the balcony on the top of the main keep of the Hornburg with Celestia, gazing out across the battlements. The land around the fortress was a sea of tents as the Holy Army had made its camp for the night, supplied with food by the garrison and bedding down outside the walls. Smoke coiled lazily in the evening sky from a hundred campfires, allowed for this night because they were at the fort. For the past two nights, Celestia had forbidden the use of fires as it could give their position away before they were ready to deploy for battle. An ambush in the foothills could have proved costly.

"We will, General, yes," Celestia replied. "We make for Saltsburg. Either we reach the city, or we find the enemy on the way." She wore the same flowing white robes she had worn when speaking with Ostmane in her tent; they were traditional, which some would say meant they were old, but she liked them. They were as much a symbol of her reign as her crown or golden sceptre.

"As I said earlier, Your Highness, we have received no report from Saltsburg since the Governor's letter, which we sent onward to you at Canterlot," Spectre explained, clearing his throat with a hacking cough that had plagued him for years. "However we did receive a messenger from the village of Cypress Grove. Arrived yesterday afternoon. They said they were being attacked by Changelings. That's less than two days ride from here. It's anypony's guess where they are now."

"Cypress Grove is west of Saltsburg, so we know they are heading in this direction, at least," Celestia nodded. "We can reasonably assume they are aiming for Saint Swiftmane's Pass. Is the Hornburg ready for war, General?"

"Yes, Your Highness," Spectre replied proudly. "We are ready to fight and die if necessary. Whatever you command."

"If we can intercept the Changelings and turn them back, then I am hopeful no dying will be required on the part of your garrison, General." Celestia turned away from the view out over the fortress to face him. "If we fail, then the Hornburg Line is all that stands between the Changelings and Canterlot. I left a force at the pass with orders to prepare it for demolition if the Changelings should reach it and cannot be held there. If they bypass you, or force passage through you, then we will make every possible effort to come to your aid and to reach the pass and stop them. If we cannot do so, then I leave it up to your discretion as to whether to send a force to support the troops at the pass, or whether to concentrate your strength here."

Spectre nodded. A portion of the provincial army and militia from surrounding towns had moved to the Hornburg to strengthen its defences once word of the invasion reached them, giving Spectre a mobile force to deploy as he saw fit. The rest of the provincial army had gone to their Governor's aid at Saltsburg, and had not been heard of since.

"I shall bid you goodnight now, General," Celestia continued. "I shall retire to my quarters you have so graciously provided. If any matters arise during the night, please see to them yourself unless they are of the utmost importance."

"Of course, Your Highness." Spectre bowed. "Goodnight, and rest well."

"Thank you." Celestia placed a hand upon his shoulder for a moment before descending the stairs, leaving Spectre alone upon the roof of the fort, gazing out upon the Holy Army. Tomorrow, they would head for Saltsburg. Tomorrow, they would ride. How many would return?

Spectre turned away, leaving the ringing of laughter and clanking of mess tins behind as he descended into the fort. That was tomorrow. First, even the Sun had to sleep.