The Siege Of Canterlot

Periwinkle flapped her wings as hard as she could. She had a mission, an objective that must be completed, and a message that must be delivered.

She was leaving the spear-din behind her, the tumult of battle that raged across the city. Trottingham was under attack, and though she was a trained and experienced soldier, she knew her current mission was even more important than standing with her comrades-in-arms. She had but one task; reach the Corona Line.

The Corona Line lay to the north, in the direction of Canterlot, where her message had to ultimately reach. The message was simple; Trottingham was under attack by both Changelings and the Shadow Army. There was a joint invasion in progress from the south, the border posts were overwhelmed, and that same fate threatened the city. If it fell, the Corona Line was the next point of resistance, and if that were breached, then apart from a few scattered castles and villages, Canterlot was the only real prize that lay directly beyond. The Corona Line was strong; modern fortresses, heavy guns, strong walls, large garrisons, blocking the broad plain that lay to the west of the Foal Mountains and to the north of Trottingham and the border. Even if the enemy bypassed the forts or simply smashed through them, access to the valley beyond, where Canterlot lay, was dependent on fording the Henbane River, a broad waterway some forty miles south of the capital. Forts covered the most accessible fords where an enemy could reasonably be expected to attempt a crossing, making sure that any troops wading through the water would be subject to artillery fire and accurate musketry.

Down below lay the open grasslands to the north of Trottingham. Farms were dotted across the landscape, though as word of the invasion to the south spread, the locals could be reasonably expected to pack their bags and flee en masse to the north, with the aim of reaching safety beyond the Corona Line. They could not be blamed for doing so; tales of Changeling and Shadow Army atrocities over the centuries were luridly told around campfires and exchanged in alehouses even today, though there had been no full-scale war for a long time. Anypony with any sense would run once they knew that there was an invasion going on just miles to the south of them.

Periwinkle was also running, or rather flying, away from danger, with a message for the garrison commander at whichever fort she came to first. It should be the one constructed due north of Trottingham, but if she miscalculated her route or had to divert around bad weather, she might end up elsewhere. That wasn't as important as just getting there at all. The commander would have to relay the message to the other forts and back to Canterlot, and it didn't matter who was responsible for that, so long as the message got through. Canterlot had to be informed as soon as possible, for this news changed the whole dynamic of the war. No longer were they fighting on a single front, but now they were coming under attack from two directions at once. Not only were they fighting one enemy, but now a second had joined the fray, and that made Equestria's task infinitely more difficult.

Periwinkle spared glances over her shoulder every so often, looking back at Trottingham and the distant string of smoke columns that marked the border posts, now overrun by the enemy. She was looking back both in sadness and fear, for she knew she was leaving her comrades behind, many of whom would die even if the city held. But though she left her friends, she did not leave danger in her wake. Her departure may have caught the Changelings off guard, for she wore no uniform and carried no satchel, instead having the letter, hastily penned by Colonel Graves, stuffed under a plain tunic, making her look like a simple citizen who was fleeing for their life. But it had not fooled the enemy.

Even now, there were half a dozen black dots in the sky behind her, and they were closing in, no matter how fast she tried to fly. The Corona Line was still twenty miles north. She could see the closest two forts ahead in the distance, but she was still a long way away. Another glance back, and the black dots were closer than they had been before. She redoubled her efforts. If the message didn't get through...

She had not been alone in flying out of the city, and she couldn't tell if that had hindered her or not. A single pony leaving might mark themselves out as a messenger, or perhaps a gaggle all departing at once or successively in different directions might do likewise. Perhaps the Changelings would simply hunt down everypony who tried to run, no matter where they were going or what they were wearing. MIlitary and civilian alike, all seemed to be targets for the drones.

Periwinkle decided to dive down low, among the trees and rolling hills, in an attempt to throw off her pursuers. It didn't work, though she did startle a couple of ponies working in a field, to whom she tried to shout a warning, though she didn't know if they had heard. The Changelings behind her continued to follow, some staying high and some swooping down to follow her. If she could just reach the Corona Line, their defences would ward off her pursuers, for not even a drone was dumb enough to fly straight into the guns of a fortress with just five other Changelings for support. But the forts were miles away, and she was tiring out. Pegasi messengers usually flew at full speed for as long as they could before taking a break for a minute or two to regain their stamina, then pushing on again. Flying in a straight line with no danger was one thing, but being pursued and having to fly erratically to deal with it was quite another. Her wings carried her onward. This was what she was trained for. Reach the fortress. Deliver the message. Reach the fortress. Deliver the message.

Something whizzed past her, then something else, green flashes. She dared risk another look back. The drones were closer still, and they were within magic range. They only possessed the ability to perform basic spells, but it was enough to deal with a single pony. The bolts of magic could knock her from the sky if they struck, and she began to weave and jink from side to side. She had no weapons to save weight and increase her speed and agility; even if she had a musket or pistol, she could never fight off six drones.

She ducked below the tree canopy of a small orchard, dodging left and right around the trees, emerging at the other end. The fortresses were nearer, but now she couldn't see them over the crest of the next small hill. She pulled up to climb over it, but a blast of magic caught her left wing and she went tumbling, smashing into the ground before she could steady herself or correct her trajectory. She rolled and rolled before finally coming to a halt in a ditch, high grass and reeds around her. It was a half-dry creek bed, and it offered no salvation. Her wing stung with pain and she dared not look at it, but she knew she couldn't take off again. She scrambled through the reeds in desperation, but the Changelings had seen where she had fallen and were on her in an instant. Water splashed around her feet as she stumbled into the stream. A drone landed in front of her, fangs bared. A blade flashed, and the water ran red.

The barracks was a sturdily built structure, fit to house several hundred ponies in what passed for comfort when one was a member of the military. Of stone construction on the lower floors, the top floor was treated wood, and the whole edifice was roofed with tile, not thatch like much of the city, to help reduce the fire risk. Like most barrack buildings in Equestria, it was constructed to be defensible, a mini-fortress within a city or outpost, with firing ports in each outer wall and strongly reinforced gates. The inner courtyard, which could be accessed by airborne enemies with ease, was likewise protected by firing slits, through which musketry and crossbows could lay down a withering fire, turning the courtyard into a killing ground. That was exactly what was happening in Trottingham, for Changeling drones were landing like a swarm of flies and being steadily picked off by the Equestrian infantry.

Snapshot and the others had retreated from the wall once the gate was breached, for it was no longer defensible with their numbers. Colonel Graves had to balance the Changeling threat with the now-arriving Shadow Army, for if he pulled too many troops from the south wall to support against the incursion, then the city would soon find itself with a second gate breached and more enemies pouring in from two directions at once. On the other hand, if he did not reinforce the north, then the Changelings could overrun the city by themselves. He did not have enough troops for both tasks, and had sent a runner to find Captain Oats, telling her to hold at the barracks, turning it into a strongpoint. If he were able, he had relayed, he would send more militiaponies to assist, but both the Colonel and the Captain knew that was unlikely. The city was in serious trouble. It had not been reinforced before the battle, it had not armed and prepared its militia properly, it had not secured the gates and manned the walls early enough. Despite their rapid response to the signal fires and the approaching Shadow Army, they had been caught napping by the sudden appearance of the Changelings.

It was a sad indictment of the preparedness of the city, but a clear indication of what complacency could do. It had been so long since there was war with the Shadowlands or the Changelings, that a state of lethargy had set in when it came to maintaining a level of readiness for war with them. Even if Canterlot and high command had detailed plans drawn up, the reality on the frontline was rather different in many places. Troop strengths were often below what they were supposed to be due to attrition, disease, or simply being unable to find enough willing volunteers. Powder magazines were frequently half empty, stores diminished, defences crumbling and in need of repair. Some would say it was the mark of a nation on the cusp of decadence, for when there was no clear and present danger, ponies got lax.

Though the army itself was constantly ready to move and fight on whichever border it may be necessary to defend, the provincial forces had long been lackadaisical in their preparations, despite harrying from Canterlot's politicians and their own generals. It would often take the Princess making a direct intervention to get something done, for though she held ultimate power over the whole nation, the provincial system lent itself well to promoting regional incompetence. Local officials were not usually appointed by the central government, but by the provincial governors or town mayors, leading to endless accounts of cronyism and embezzlement of public funds, of sheriffs and alderponies and tax collectors being appointed just for who, rather than what, they knew. Even the treasury could only stretch so far, and the more Equestria spent on fortresses in the east, the less money they had to spend on fortresses in the south, and vice versa. Thus the Corona Line and the equivalent Hornburg Line in the east had been constructed at the expense of the border posts and older fortress-cities like Saltsburg and Trottingham. They had not been strengthened for many years, and now it was too late to do anything about it.

The Shadow Army reached the south wall, massed cavalry parading just outside of musket range as they waited for their infantry and artillery to catch up, or for the Changelings to fling open the south gate for them. Cannons roared from the walls and inflicted casualties, but with the enemy already inside the walls, it was only a matter of time. Once the Shadow Army's infantry arrived, they launched a massed Pegasi assault, attempting to replicate the success the Changelings had shown on the other side of the city. The attack was repulsed, but with heavy casualties among the defenders. They tried again, and gained a foothold upon the city wall. Trying to repeat the Changeling trick of opening the gate cost them dear, but it was successful. Colonel Graves ordered the retreat, back into the city. The survivors fought bravely, making the invaders pay for every inch of ground, but being pushed back farther and farther. They reached the barracks, linking up with the others from the north, and made a final stand.

Snapshot fired until his musket jammed, the hammer refusing to fall no matter how many times he jiggled and shook it, losing count of how many shots he had made or how many drones he had killed before his gun had decided it had had enough. He felt oddly detached from reality, as though he were viewing the whole scene from outside of his own body. It was different to the other times he had been in combat, somehow. Perhaps because this time, he knew for certain he would die. He had accepted that, made his peace, prayed to Celestia during a brief lull in the battle, running his fingers over the golden sun pendant he wore around his neck, as many soldiers did. For protection, to carry the blessings of the Princess into battle with them, and to help ensure that Celestia would know they were loyal and true in the afterlife, where, they believed, she reigned as she did in Equestria. Another realm, entirely removed from this existence, yet the Princess trod the ground in both and ruled over them, as her sister, Luna, had once ruled over their dreams. The true faithful had no doubt in their minds whatsoever, and there could be no more glorious and proud death than to die fighting for Celestia.

Not that the thought made it much easier to admit to oneself that they would die this day, for they were surrounded. How could they possibly escape?

"Alright, listen up, ponies!" Captain Oats called. "I have just received a message from the troops outside...the Colonel is dead. With no contact with any other senior officers, I am placing myself in command of the survivors...and my first order is that we retreat."

"Retreat where?" somepony cried. "We're trapped in here!"

"Not quite," Oats replied. "There is a way out, and we're going to take it, but we need to be careful and quick, and we're going to leave these bastards a nice little surprise."