The Siege Of Canterlot

Long ago, a mare by the name of Swiftmane had live and died in these very rocks.

The mountain pass ahead was grandiose in scale, with towering cliffs high above, vertical walls of rock either side of the narrow and picturesque defile. A trading caravan or a young noble on a grand tour of the continent would certainly appreciate its beauty, but a soldier would be more concerned with how to defend it, or the potential it posed for an ambush. For that, it was perfect. An unsuspecting convoy or column of marching ponies could be set upon in an instant from a hundred crevasses, boulders, draws and crags and massacred where they stood, or forced to surrender with no possible route of escape.

It was just such a fate which had befallen Swiftmane. A favoured priest of Celestia, she had ridden out, long ago, to the eastern regions, where, so long ago, many lawless tribes and bandits reigned in the days before the land was pacified by the Equestrian Army during the nation's eastern expansion. She had gone to spread the word of the Princess, but bandits in the pass had found her. A priest was a tempting target, for they would like as not be carrying gold or a good supply of bits, as well as other valuables for trading. Books, perhaps; The Complete Celestian Chronicles, or The Lineage & Heritage of the Equestrian Royal Family, and the Illustrious Story Of Our Divine Princess. Both would fetch good prices to traders from foreign lands if they were in good, original condition.

Swiftmane, riding atop her horse, alone, had been ambushed by a force of bandits. Her brutalized body had been found a week later by a trading caravan, her horse still forlornly grazing on the grass and flowers near where she lay. They returned her body to Canterlot, their destination. There was no doubt that she had been raped, tortured and then killed, seemingly for sport, target practice; her body was riddled with arrows, but the palace doctors had determined that her other wounds had been inflicted before she died. The Celestian Chronicles, the great epic that detailed the early life and reign of the Princess, said that Celestia wept "White-hot tears of anguish for her fallen, a loyal and true daughter of the Sun." It was also said that "Her Fury descended upon the blasphemers and bandits," but gave no further details.

The reality had been that Celestia had ordered a full regiment of infantry to secure the pass, sweeping all before them. Once the pass was cleared and the bandits in retreat, she personally led the Knights of Celestia to pursue the fleeing brigands. Biding their time, they followed at a distance until the bandits reached their large camp, more a small town out on the plains. Then, with their Princess at their head, the Knights rode in and slaughtered them all. Not just the bandits, but their old folk, foals, and pregnant mares, too. They killed those who fought, they killed those who fled, they killed those who fell to their knees and begged the Sun for mercy. The camp was razed to the ground by blazing torches; none survived. Celestia's bloody vengeance was curiously not mentioned in the Chronicles beyond the token and cryptic mention of "Fury" descending. The unsanitised reality was not exactly suitable for a book that was effusive and unequivocal in its praise of the Princess as the exemplar of Ponykind, with lofty ideals that all should strive to follow but few would ever reach.

After the razing of the bandit camp, Celestia declared Swiftmane to be a Martyr of the Sun, and made her a saint, giving the pass where she died her name, a permanent memorial to the mare who had been killed in particularly horrible circumstances while merely trying to spread the word of her Princess. The families and friends of other priests killed in a similar way down the years might well have felt aggrieved at their own martyrs not being honoured in quite the same way, but no disquiet had ever been shown. Every death of a Priest of Celestia was recorded in detail in the Golden Cathedral's archives, as well as the palace histories. Swiftmane was different; she had developed a close rapport and friendship with the Princess. Some unofficial tracts even whispered that they had been lovers, though there was no proof of any such relationship between the two mares, merely speculation from less reputable sources, the kind of scurrilous falsehood or embellished half-truth that often blighted ancient texts and purported histories.

Lovers, friends, or merely a servant and her Princess, the reality was that Swiftmane's tale lived on thanks to the name of the pass, which controlled the northernmost approach to Canterlot from the eastern province. It was a logical chokepoint that could be blocked either by soldiers or by the mountains themselves. Magic or explosives could be used to bring down the high cliffs and fill the pass with debris, rendering it completely impassable by any ground unit. That was what the defenders were under orders to do if the pass was in danger of falling, and there was clear evidence that might be the situation soon enough.

Thousands of Changelings were assailing the approaches to the pass, massed ranks of infantry, some on the ground, some in the air, like a cloud of flies. The defences were strong, with breastworks and strongpoints carved straight into the rock, concealing cannons and musketponies. Lines of defence criss-crossed the approaches, with trenches connecting each bunker and blockhouse, sharpened stakes in front of each position, and earthen ramparts supporting the lower reaches. A small chapel, dedicated to Saint Swiftmane and lying nestled among the hills in front of the pass, had been overrun and set ablaze by the advancing Changelings, forcing the defenders to abandon it, and the first line that it formed the lynchpin of.

The terrain was too rough for a true fortress to ever be constructed there, but the defences were strong nonetheless. Despite the advantages of a prepared position and the high ground, it was clear to Princess Celestia and her riders that the Equestrian lines were already in danger of being broken by sheer weight of numbers. The Changelings were evidently throwing almost their entire force into the meat-grinder, the vast majority of the troops which had invaded the eastern province. If they made it through the pass to reinforce the Shadow Army and block off any Equestrian reinforcements from the northern city of Stalliongrad, then the capital would surely fall, especially if the Holy Army was prevented from pursuing them. That raised the question- what was the Changelings' true objective here? To gain control of the pass, or merely to prevent the Holy Army from using it?

Celestia drew her sword and led her cavalry straight into the fray, up the road leading to the pass, toward the black mass of Changelings, their banners flapping in the wind as trumpets sounded. The Changeling rear picket line broke and fled, using their wings to carry them and outrun the onrushing cavalry. While a large proportion of the invading army was focused upon the pass, the Changeling general had clearly anticipated such a relief effort by the Holy Army, and had a number of units positioned up ahead, blocking the road, forming squares of pikes backed by muskets, the bane of cavalry. As they charged up the road, however, things rapidly got even worse, for the foothills on either side of the defile were suddenly not empty. The Changelings had been canny; either their general was a particularly good guesser, or their scouts had reported the advancing cavalry from a long way off. Cannons were rapidly wheeled into position to the left and right of the road, atop the hills, aiming down into the wide cutting which steadily narrowed as it approached the beginning of the pass itself.

Celestia grimaced as she saw the cannons appearing, first one battery, then another, and another. There had been no other choice; this was the only option available to her. To abandon the pass would have meant it was sure to fall. To wait and only advance in lock-step with the infantry would have delayed their arrival for too long, resulting in the same outcome. The terrain around them was no good for horses, which was why she had stuck to the road, and also why the Changelings had seemingly not brought their own cavalry with them. Now, their options were narrowing even further. She raised her sword high above her, spurred her horse on, and lowered her head. Her horn began to glow, lustrous gold magic spewing forth and forming a shield in front of her. This was no small, individual shield, one that could, at a pinch, protect a squad of infantry, like a unicorn or Changeling officer could form. This was a barrier, a hundred yards wide, like the curtain wall of a fortress, gently shimmering like the surface of a sun-kissed lake.

The Changeling cannons, laboriously dragged into position, opened fire with a roar. Their shots slammed the shield, and melted away into nothing. As long as the guns were in front of her, Celestia could protect her cavalry, but as soon as they passed them, the cannons could pour fire into their flanks and rear. Even the Princess could not easily protect such a large moving target, with a thousand cavalryponies behind her; the three hundred Knights of Celestia, five hundred hussars, and another two hundred lancers. Celestia had not advanced with her whole cavalry force, keeping plenty in reserve to protect the massed body of infantry and their supply train, but she had brought many of the best-trained units. Now, their skills would be needed more than ever.

With a simple gesture, her sword raised above her head at the horizontal, then swept to the right three times, Celestia sent a wordless order. Their eyes fixed on their Princess, a unit of the Cloudsdale Hussars began to move. They were an all-Pegasi regiment from the famous floating city from which they took their name, and while at first glance they may have seemed rather out of place- why would Pegasi, already famed for their speed and maneuverability, form a cavalry unit?- the Cloudsdale Hussars had long shown their versatility and great usefulness in battle. In the charge, they were like any other unit, forming part of the great galloping mass. But when signaled or ordered to do so, their wings came back into play.

At Celestia's direction, some two hundred of the Pegasi spread out to the right flank, a carefully orchestrated ballet as they navigated their steed around other charging horses and over the rougher terrain at the edge of the road. Then, they stopped. An enemy might have thought they were preparing to turn and flee, abandon their Princess; when the Hussars then dismounted, leaping from the saddles to the ground, an enemy would have likely become confused. But when the two hundred Pegasi took to the air, sabres and pistols in hand, an enemy would have good reason to panic.

The Cloudsdale Hussars flew as fast as they could to the hilltops on the right flank, where the lightly protected Changeling cannons were roaring. Only a small screening force of infantry protected each battery, as the Changelings had either overlooked such a possibility, or simply did not care too much for the lives of their gun crews. Even as the cavalry phalanx thundered past the first Changeling battery, the gunners were already engaged in desperate close combat with the agile Hussars. The Cloudsdale fighters spread themselves out, trying to keep pace with the Princess to attack each battery before the cavalry passed it and became vulnerable. Celestia issued a similar order, but sweeping her sword left instead, and the remaining two hundred of Cloudsdale's finest took to the air to engage the cannons that lay to their left.

With the Changeling artillery tied up, casualties in the initial charge had been minimal. Ahead lay a thick line of Changeling infantry; the road coming out from the pass dipped away into a kind of bowl just ahead of the Equestrian defences, before rising again to a crest, and it was at that crest that the enemy had positioned their rearguard. The Hive Mind kept them standing firm, for no normal army could have faced down a charging mass of cavalry, led by the Sun Herself, without at least quaking in terror. But stand they did, pikes lowered and ready, muskets loaded.

At the last possible moment, Celestia dropped her shield and unleashed a whirlwind of magic, as she had done on the plains, blasting a hole in the enemy line and tossing dozens of drones aside like rag dolls. The musketponies held their fire as the Princess charged through their line, slashing with her sword, cutting down those unfortunate enough to be in her path. The Knights of Celestia followed her, and only then did the enemy open fire.

The heavy golden plate of the Knights was proof against a spear tip or arrow head, but not against a musket ball. Nor was the armoured barding that clad their horses. A dozen Knights went down in the first volley, some shot dead or wounded, others sent tumbling to the ground as their mounts stumbled and fell, whinnying in agony. The pikes jabbed and thrusted, finishing off those unlucky enough to land within their reach. The rest of the hussars, supported by the lancers, drove through the enemy lines, and the second rank of Changeling musketeers opened up from within their protective squares, killing, wounding or downing another fifty of the less well-protected riders in conjunction with the pikes, which pierced the bodies of the unfortunate horses, ripping them open and tossing their riders down to the ground.

One hardy Knight rose to her feet and set about the square of infantry ahead of her. In a display witnessed by her Princess, who was quickly coming about to charge again, the Knight let off a quick string of half a dozen blasts of magic that caught the Changelings by surprise and killed a trio of pike-bearers. She quickly took cover behind her wounded horse as muskets spat hate in her direction, before bursting forth and charging through the gap she had made in the pikewall. The musketeers were frantically reloading and caught on the hop, and she slew two with her sword as the pikes tried to turn and deal with her, difficult in the close quarters they found themselves in. She struck out again, running through one pike-drone and clashing with a Changeling officer, who kept her busy long enough for a worker-Changeling with a musket to bayonet her in the leg; ineffectually, but enough to distract her with an attempt to cut him down. The officer capitalised, managing to draw his pistol and put a ball through her cuirass and straight into her stomach. Yet still she fought on, beheading the musketeer, turning back on the officer, overpowering him and wrenching his sword away before plunging her own deep into his chest. Now half a dozen musketeers had reloaded their weapons, and together they opened fire, and the noble Knight fell, quickly disappearing from view as the Changelings closed ranks to reform the square that she had broken.

The Changeling cannons on the hills had been overrun, taken by surprise thanks to the speed of the Pegasi assault, their gun crews slaughtered. The Hussars returned to their mounts and set out to charge forward in support, but the enemy lines had stabilised after the initial charge, and a forest of pikes met them. Without the Princess to force a breakthrough, the Hussars risked heavy losses in a head-on advance, but they had to reach and support the rest of the force. They charged anyway, straight into the teeth of the enemy muskets.

Beyond the rearguard line, the bulk of the Equestrian cavalry reformed in the bowl ahead of the pass. The main enemy force still lay ahead, thousands of infantry, swarming all over the defensive lines. The defenders knew their Princess was with them; even from a distance, one could hardly miss her striking mane blowing in the wind, to say nothing of her gleaming armour and gossamer-white wings. That bolstered their morale, but their line was still buckling under the sheer weight of Changelings being thrown at it. It would have been hard enough defending against a force like the Yaks or Zebras in such a situation, with the numbers heavily against you, but against the Changelings who had both airborne units and magic users among their ranks, it was that much harder. Drones would fly overhead and pop up in the rear, squads advancing would be protected, however briefly, from gunfire by magic shields, bolts of magical energy could act as additional projectile weaponry. Every advantage that a mixed pony force had, the Changelings had too.

Celestia's cavalry was now in the midst of a great swirling maelstrom, with gunfire on all sides, their retreat theoretically blocked off by the reformed enemy rearguard, separated from a number of their own Hussars, with a huge enemy force ahead that vastly outnumbered them. But they did not need to kill every enemy, merely to break the back of their assault. That was Celestia's hope. Either force the enemy to retreat, or buy enough time for the bulk of the Holy Army to arrive. If the Changelings were allowed time to dig in around the pass then they might end up like a tick, gripping with all its limbs and unwilling to be removed easily.

Leaving the separated Hussars to force their way through, Celestia led the rest of the cavalry toward the main Changeling force, which was focused, for the most part, on the pass defences. The Changeling cannons had been set up to stop the cavalry breaking through, and now that they had failed, there were only a few guns left, and they were busy bombarding the trenches and blockhouses of the defensive line. Celestia made for them, scattering the gun crews and corralling them before cutting them down. The Changeling guns had been providing fire support for the main assault, but their loss did not mean the attack could no longer succeed. They already had momentum, and had to be slowed.

Turning once more, the Equestrian cavalry rode hard along the road, into the enemy's rear. They were mostly unprotected, though quick to react to the incursion thanks to their Hive Mind that linked them and shared some tactical information between units at the speed of thought. A line of pikes had already been deployed, and units of musketeers were moving to back them up, standing firm on the slopes of the approach to the pass. Celestia blasted a hole in their lines with a fireball of magic, golden light igniting the armour, wings and chitinous bodies of a dozen unlucky drones and workers who flailed about in agony, while another units of pikes simply disappeared from existence in the same blast. Again a wedge of cavalry rode in, cutting and slashing, careful not to go too far in case they got cut off from retreat and surrounded by the enemy infantry. Break up the formations; disrupt their plans, slow them down, stop them.

They tried their best, but there were thousands upon thousands of Changelings, and their ranks were barely thinning despite the charge against them. The terrain was entirely unsuitable for cavalry, with steep slopes, loose scree and numerous boulders and tree stumps dotting the landscape that formed the side of the bowl-shaped depression. Losses among the cavalry were mounting; pikes, muskets, magic, all were taking their toll on the riders and their steeds, though none were able to touch the Princess. Some may have imagined that she could have fought her way through the entire army unaided, but that was a fanciful notion more suited to the children's fables told about her in only the broadest and simplest terms. When the storybooks said, "The Princess drove the Zebras away," they meant, "The Princess, supported by her cavalry, infantry, and artillery, drove the Zebras away." Even her extraordinary stamina and skill could only carry her so far. Though it took far longer, she could still tire like every other pony, and she could only be in a single place at once. Yet she was like a whirlwind, on horseback or on foot. Her sword arm was relentless, slicing mercilessly through the bodies of scores of Changelings who stood before her. But it was not enough.

The cavalry made inroads, slaughtering over a thousand of their foes, but their numbers were dwindling the whole time as more riders fell. Some, wounded, were able to fight on the ground and claim a few more for their final tally before they died, but individual acts of heroism could not tip the balance. Gradually they were forced back, or else they would have found themselves isolated as individuals or small groups and massacred. Celestia had no choice but to pull back, or else lose her entire force. They simply could not break through. She turned to Carpe Diem, the loyal Knight Commander of the Order of Celestia, with orders to sound the retreat. He did so, blowing his bugle loud and clear.

The cavalry turned, extricating themselves from the fray. Celestia hacked her way out along with the Knights, who had been whittled down to some two hundred and fifty of their original three hundred members. The Hussars and Lancers had similarly taken heavy losses, while the Cloudsdale Hussars, cut off from their fellows, had given a good account of themselves against the enemy rearguard, forcing a large opening, through which the retreating horses were able to flow. A few more riders fell as they departed, gunned down by musketry, but Celestia was able to lead the survivors from the field, back between the hills where the Changeling guns now lay silent. They could do no more- to stay would see them wiped out, and having lost a third of their number already, that was not a situation that was palatable to the Princess in any way. It would not accomplish anything save to add new martyrs to the roll of honour of the victims of the pass, which was already more than long enough.

So back they went, reforming out of range of the enemy muskets, to await the arrival of their own infantry. That was the only way they would take the pass; it had been a bold and aggressive move by the Princess, but ultimately futile. The Changelings had a head start. If the Holy Army could have reached the pass first, then they could have bolstered the defences and made the pass impregnable. As it was, they were the ones sitting forlornly, looking on as the defenders of the pass, their hopes dashed, slowly succumbed to the mass of Changeling infantry, pressing inexorably onward, crossing each trench line, each parapet, each string of breastworks, probing into the pass, their airborne units clearing sharpshooters from high perches. The Changeling assault was proceeding according to their plan, cutting through the defensive lines and then rolling up the rest before ploughing on deeper into the pass.

Celestia and the survivors of her cavalry charge saw the flash long before they heard the bang. A string of bright lights flared into being inside the pass, followed by a roar as the cliffsides began to crumble. Carefully placed charges of gunpowder, concealed for just such a purpose, had been detonated by the desperate defenders, who were left with no choice as they faced seeing the pass fall into enemy hands. Slabs of rock sheared off from the mountainside, tumbling and shattering below, crushing several thousand Changelings and the last hundred or so Equestrians, bravely giving their lives to stop the foe having a clear route to Canterlot. A huge plume of dust rose into the air, blotting out any visual of the pass as it collapsed in on itself, not just near the mouth but also at several other points along its length to make absolutely sure there was no way through.

As the dust cleared, the Changelings were in disarray, but Celestia's depleted cavalry force was too weak to pounce on them again. Once the infantry arrived, that would change, but for now, all the Princess could do was sit and watch as the dust slowly drifted into the sky.