After charging into the light at the end of the tunnel, Phillip, Cold, and Beacon rubbed their eyes, allowing themselves to adjust to the brightness. They found themselves in a basement, connected to the tunnel through an entryway of torn open floorboards. The lone lightbulb overhead, shined on a short flight of stairs leading up to a dented door—no doubt a victim of Iron Claw’s haste.

Phillip, Cold, and Beacon stepped outside into an alleyway. A crowd had gathered in a nearby street, surrounding two crumpled cars and the drivers engaging in a shouting match.

“Where the Tartarus did she go?” Beacon asked, eyes darting up and down the alley.

Phillip scanned his surroundings. On the dingy ground, small droplets of red led from the basement to the mouth of the alley. They weaved around trash cans lying on their sides, and he could faintly make out the trail towards the street.

“This way,” he said, galloping down the alley. Cold and Beacon turned and followed, all three of them jumping over the trash cans and sprinting into the street where car horns greeted him.

“Clear a path!” Beacon ordered the pedestrians. They clambered to get out of the way of Phillip, eyes narrowed at the blood trail.

“Phil!” Cold called.

Phillip ground to a halt. A taxi pulled in front of him, mere inches from his snout. After brushing off a curse from the driver, Phillip returned to the trail. The faint red droplets crawled up several wide steps and into the cavernous entrance of the Ponyville Train Station.

Beacon pulled out her radio as she surveyed the area. “Hot Sauce to Pie Topping, is everyone alright, over?” she asked. Cold and Phillip shared a quizzical glance.

“Pie Topping here,” Pineapple replied over the radio. “Everyone’s safe and getting treated, Hot Sauce. We got all our weapons back. What’s the status on Cool Mint and Magnifying Glass, over?”

“They’re with me. We’re at the Ponyville Train Station; our bogie went inside. In pursuit. Over and out,” Beacon said, sheathing her radio again. “Let’s hurry up and find her.”

Cold and Phillip nodded, following Beacon as she led the charge inside.

The crowd of commuters in the main atrium of the station stood around in clusters, muttering to each other and staring at one of the train platforms. They glanced at the trio as they ran towards the platform. Any sign of protest from the ticket personnel fell silent at the Lieutenant General’s stern gaze.

There was a lone train on the nearest platform – a lengthy passenger train and its caboose. The engine was whistling and starting to creep forward, its pistons panting ever more rapidly.

And standing on the roof of one of the passenger cars was Iron Claw, grinning down at the three ponies.

“How many more innocent lives will it cost you, Cold Case?” she yelled over the mechanical racket. “I will slaughter every single pony on this train, and throw off any other creature!” She turned and began walking towards the front of the train.

Phillip ran over to the caboose and clambered up the ladder, followed by Cold and Beacon. They wobbled on the shuddering metal. “What train is this?” Beacon asked.

Shading his eyes with a hoof, Phillip looked around and spotted a departure schedule near the ticket booth. “The 611, headed for Canterlot,” he replied.

Beacon pulled out her radio again. “Hot Sauce to Oil Lamp, tell them to shut down traffic on the main line to Canterlot and get your train started – we have a bogie on the main line on the 611. Over and out.”

“How soon will he get here?” Cold asked Beacon as she put away her radio.

“Not soon enough. Come on,” Beacon said, jerking her head towards the front of the train.

Phillip led the charge as the train pulled out of the station and into the countryside. The trio squinted against the oncoming wind and kept steadied their hooves on the rocking metal.

On the first passenger car, Iron Claw whirled around when she heard hooves on metal. Phillip leaped at her, snapping out his baton with the full intent to drive it home on her skull.

Iron Claw snarled. Her hook clanged against Phillip’s baton, and she lunged out with her talons, which glinted in the sun. Phillip tried to roll out of the way but a puff of air escaped his mouth.

The talons speared his vest. Phillip gasped a second time and looked down. A hole, but no blood—thank Celestia for dragonscale armor.

As Iron Claw pulled him off his hooves, Phillip swung his body back, aiming his hind hooves at her forearm. His effort was rewarded by a pained grunt; the bent metal spikes dug into his leg. Laughing, Iron Claw jerked Phillip towards her and met his skull with her own with a sickening thwack that made stars dance in his vision.

Farther away, Cold drew her revolver and aimed at the griffon. Sweat dripped from her trembling hooves, and the biting, frigid wind watered her eyes. Beacon growled, her horn sparking.

“Let him go, Iron Claw,” Cold snarled.

“A poor choice of words.” Iron Claw held the dazed Phillip over the side of the train.

She let go.

“No!” Cold dove to the roof. Her gun flew out of her hooves. Her horn ignited a brilliant blue while her magic snatched him in midair. Though Phillip slipped from her magic and tumbled to the ground alongside the train, he shakily got to his hooves. By the time he had dusted himself off, the caboose had passed him by.

“Cold!” he called hoarsely, briefly running after the train.

As Iron Claw turned towards Cold, Beacon unsheathed her sword with her magic, holding it with the blade pointed to the sky in front of her face. “Ignis,” she breathed against the piercing dark grey metal of the blade. Reddish-orange runes briefly strobed on the sides of the sword, from base of the blade to the tip. The blade’s edge glowed a brilliant orange before catching flame.

Beacon stepped in front of Cold and angled the sword at Iron Claw. “You’ll have to get through me first.”

“Gladly.” Iron Claw lunged at the sword with her hook, metal clanging against metal.

Beacon backed up at Iron Claw’s attacks, eagle eyes tracking each deadly slash. Sparks, smoke, and sweat erupted every time her blade parried Iron Claw’s talons. Meanwhile, Cold stayed lying on the roof, tapping her smoking horn. Beacon glanced down; she didn’t want to stumble over Cold.

While Beacon looked at Cold, Iron Claw looked at an opportunity. Her talons glinted at the corner of Beacon’s vision.

The claws ground against Beacon’s chest plating. Fragments of gold flaked off. Beacon staggered backward and glared at the three gashes on her armor. It was her turn.

Cold took a moment to catch her breath from the strain in her magic, her ears flicking towards the sounds of clanging metal. Iron Claw was backing away from Beacon, but true to her name, her talons deflected every one of Beacon’s sword slashes. Cold gritted her teeth. Icy armor encased her chest, and a frozen knife appeared in her hooves.

Cold whirled around and aimed low. The biting cold knife sank into the griffon’s foot. Claw’s screech echoed through the air. She locked eyes with Cold’s before raising her talon. Cold rolled out of the way in time, although the tail end of her coat wasn’t as lucky. The ice coated the griffon’s feet in a two-inch thick sheet that welded her to the roof.

Cold got to her hooves next to Beacon, glancing at her flaming sword, then back at Iron Claw. “What’s the plan?”

Beacon frowned as she looked past the griffon and then glanced down the length of the train. She squinted at the caboose at the very end.

“Get down to the caboose and move anyone in there into the passenger cars and stay there,” Beacon said. “I’ll get to the engine.”

Cold frowned and nodded, taking off down the length of the train.

Iron Claw snarled as she tried to free herself from the spreading ice. Beacon ignited her horn and conjured her transparent flaming shield projection opposite of her sword. She darted around Iron Claw with the shield raised; it deflected another savage swipe from the griffon’s talons with a burst of swirling flame.

Beacon sprinted over the baggage car’s roof and stepped onto the coal pile in the tender, flinging her shield at the cab door. It evaporated but not before letting out a loud clang against the metal.

The fireman opened the door with a scowl of confusion before his eyebrows shot up at the sight of the Lieutenant General. He gave a brief, if confused, salute.

“Hey, can this train go any faster?” Beacon called down.

“Sure can,” the fireman replied.

“Then put the steam on and don’t stop!” Beacon replied before turning and leaping back onto the baggage car.

The fireman blinked a few times before shrugging and grabbing his shovel, digging into the coal pile for a large scoopful.

Cold Case reached the caboose and slid down the ladder, carefully stepping over the gap between cars. Her telekinesis made short work of the door, yanking and slamming it to the side.

A pair of brakemen jumped from their seats. Their playing cards flew into the air.

“Police,” Cold barked, pointing to the last passenger car’s door. “I need you to evacuate this caboose now!”

The brakemen looked at each other before one looked back at her. “Ma’am, I don’t think you have jurisdiction to—”

Cold walked over and stomped her hoof on the table. Both brakeman jumped to their hooves. “Now! Move it!”

Tails between their legs, the brakemen scrambled over each other for the door, carefully hopping the gap and stepping inside the passenger car.

“Stay there,” Cold said, slamming the door behind them.

After climbing up a ladder back to the caboose roof, Cold’s legs trembled as the train jerked forward from under her. The engine gave a long whistle, and the scenery around her began to blur as she squinted down to the other end of the train. After parrying off a side slash from Beacon’s sword, Iron Claw focused on her broken paw. Chunks of ice flew off the train as Iron Claw yanked herself free. The mist surrounding her paw disappeared in a puff. Cold waved her hooves in the air to try and get her attention.

The brief glints of white on the horizon caught Beacon’s eyes. She side-stepped Iron Claw, facing the end of the train with the griffon in her way. “You wanted a train ride, Iron Claw?” Beacon’s horn blazed with a fire matching her magic. “You’re gonna get one!”

The flaming shield surged from Beacon’s horn again, quite a bit larger than before. Pawing at the metal roof once, Beacon charged forward. Fiery magical metal clanged and hissed. The force traveled through her magic, pierced into her horn, and rattled her facial bones.

Iron Claw went airborne. She tumbed across the passenger cars’ roofs before rolling to her feet, clutching a now-blackened patch of feathers on her scalp. Beacon galloped forward for a second charge; Iron Claw growled as she fled down the length of the train. Flapping her prosthetic wings, she took flight before angling down towards Cold Case on the caboose.

Icy knifes swirled into existence in Cold’s hooves. Her eyes narrowed at Iron Claw, extended talons reflecting the sun’s rays. Cold flung one of the knives at the griffon’s chest before vaulting over the cupola.

The griffon crashed into the roof, grunting from impact and rolling to her paws. Hobbling on her injured paw, Iron Claw looked down at the ice spreading across her chest, growled, and scratched it off with a single swipe of her claws. Iron Claw’s blood boiled, each of her breaths translated to a growl. She raised her hook to strike Cold.

A shadow fell over her.

A second hissing clang rattled Beacon’s facial bones. Iron Claw’s face took two strikes: one from Beacon’s flaming shield, and another from the roof. As Beacon rolled away, Cold watched Iron Claw writhe on the roof. The blood on Iron Claw’s face boiled red—literally this time. She tore off her now-burning eye patch and unleashed a torrent of animalistic screams. The sutures on her scarred eye socket held, but only just.

Lying prone, Beacon peered over to the tracks below. With a flicker of orange magic, the coupling groaned in protest and unlatched from the train. Slowly, the rest of the train began to drift away from the caboose.

“Beacon!” Cold shouted.

Beacon grunted and rolled over onto her back. Her foreleg muscles tensed with every blow she blocked with her flaming sword. Droplets of sweat fell from her face and into the hurtling ground below. She glared into the griffon’s golden eye, illuminated by the dancing flames. The faceoff would be brief, though. Beacon shoved Iron Claw’s beak with the hilt of her sword, and then smashed a hind hoof at her midsection.

The scythe-like hook came up as Iron Claw staggered back. A downward swipe slashed through a space in Beacon’s leg armor. Beacon hissed, then steeled the muscles on her bleeding leg. She countered with a chest slash. Iron Claw staggered back. Yellow embers danced on a thin, diagonal line of fire across her body armor. Nothing a quick pat couldn’t fix.

Cold lunged forward and drove her other knife into the back of Iron Claw’s hip. After a now-familiar screech, she swung her talons backwards. The claws snagged on the skin of Cold’s face, knocking her down to the roof.

Limping, Iron Claw spun around, scratching off the ice spreading on her hip. Her twisted, half-burned face scowled at cold, trembling talons extended to deal a death blow.

From the distance, the locomotive whistled. Iron Claw lowered her arm and looked back over her shoulder.

The train was shrinking at the horizon. Iron Claw looked down and steadied her legs. Without the locomotive, the caboose trembled less and less, losing momentum on the flat straightaway of track.

“No!” Iron Claw snarled, backhanding Beacon and spreading her wings. Her paws left the roof.

A resounding gong filled the air. Iron Claw cried out. She crashed back to the roof, her right prosthetic wing clattering and tumbling off the caboose. Across her back, a blackened, reddish wound smoked, the embers eating away Iron Claw’s feathers and fabric of her clothes. Beacon retreated towards Cold, sword and shield leveled and focused.

“You won’t get away that easy,” Beacon growled.

Iron Claw let out a feral screech. She jumped and smashed downwards against Beacon’s sword with her hook. Beacon’s eyes drifted to her weapon briefly and she tightened her grip.

Beacon’s world went white. Blood trickled out her nostrils as she recoiled from Iron Claw’s follow-up haymaker. The flaming shield sputtered out and Beacon barely held onto her sword in her magic’s grip as she tumbled past Cold and disappeared off the edge of the roof.

“Beacon!” Cold called, before whirling around on the griffon, icy knives once again spiraling into existence on her hooves.

Iron Claw snarled. She batted away the knives before kicking Cold and stomping onto her stomach for good measure to hold her in place.

“I have had enough of this,” the griffon spat, swiping her talons at the frozen chest armor, shattering the ice. Another swipe tore through her coat and left gashes in the body armor underneath.

Amid pained groans Cold’s horn illuminated. The side of Iron Claw’s hook smacking across Cold’s face snuffed the magic out. As Cold touched the fresh scratch on her cheek, another talon swipe sent the body armor flapping away in the breeze, exposing Cold’s sweat-covered coat.

“Now,” Iron Claw panted. “I will tear out your heart, like you tore out mine.”

Falling on her knees, Iron Claw grabbed Cold’s throat in her talons, the bloodied metal digging into her flesh Cold gagged, and Iron Claw twisted her neck, forcing Cold to stare into the griffon’s lone eagle eye. She lifted her scythe-like hook to make good of her word. Cold stared up at her, trembling, shallow breaths escaping through her flaring nostrils. As Iron Claw tightened her grip, Cold’s world began to fade into silence and darkness.

The roof jerked. Metal screeched. The caboose stopped rattling.

Iron Claw looked up. “What—”

A flash of orange appeared over Cold’s head, and something clattered to the roof beside her.

It was Iron Claw’s hook arm, severed at the elbow.

The griffon screeched, clutching the cauterized stump. The ladder behind Cold clanged in rhythm and her peripheral vision only confirmed what she already knew: the identity of her savior. Beacon emerged up the ladder, spitting out blood to the side.

“You hit like a chick,” she growled. Her horn flickered as she aimed her flaming sword towards the griffon’s neck.

Iron Claw ducked. The blade simply sliced and singed a few head feathers.

But the distraction had done its job.

Cold kicked Iron Claw off balance. One more frozen knife spiraled into existence in her hoof. Cold got up and pounced.

The knife sank into the side of Iron Claw’s chest, under her missing arm. Cold stumbled back, panting. Ice cracked and snaked its way through Iron Claw’s chest. Her breathing deepened as she looked down at the frozen wound. She touched the ice and coughed once before falling backward onto the cupola. She stared up at the sky as she took her last few labored breaths.

Beacon helped Cold to her hooves and the pair approached the groaning, coughing griffon. “Was this really worth it?” Cold scowled down at her. “The war’s over. What happened to your mate wasn’t… wasn’t right. And I accept my responsibility for that – now you need to accept responsibility for what you’ve done.”

Iron Claw gave a weak chuckle. She reached into her vest as if to touch her wound, but pulled it out in a clenched fist, offering it to Cold.

“This… is from Gjord…” Iron Claw whispered, her golden eye fixated on Cold’s face as her fist opened. The pin from a grenade clinked onto the roof. Iron Claw shut her eye and gave a crazed, shaky laugh. The shocked and terrified looks on Cold and Beacon’s faces—that wasn’t such a bad sight to go out on.

“Shit!” Before Cold could so much as take one step, her vision flashed orange. She suddenly found herself falling through the air, several yards from the stopped caboose, surrounded by wisps of amber magic.

Beacon Fire tossed her sword aside and poured every ounce of her remaining magic into one more flaming shield. The shield pressed on Iron Claw’s body as Beacon stepped back.

A brilliant orange fireball filled the center of Cold’s vision. Several loud bangs rang her ears. A heatwave slammed her back as she tumbled to the ground.

Flaming debris rained down like smoldering confetti. The caboose resembled an exploded firework, its metal paint charred black around the fire in the gaping, jagged hole where the cupola had been.

After coughing and wiping dust from her face, Cold sprang up. Her eyes darted around for any sign of Beacon. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of a larger, heavier ember that tumbled to the ground by the railroad tracks behind the caboose. She galloped over.

Beacon Fire lay sprawled out on the ground, her golden armor singed and dented, especially the chest plate. Her legs were bent at awkward angles. Her hooves, the coat around her face, and the ends of her mane and tail were blackened. She was breathing, but it came in irregular heaves.

“Beacon! Stay with me,” Cold said, using her magic to gently remove the unicorn’s helmet.

Beacon opened her eyes, smiling weakly up at Cold. “You up here too?” she muttered.

“What? No, we’re… we’re still here,” Cold said, crouching down and cradling her head. “You saved me.”

“Well… that’s good at least…” Beacon coughed, wincing at the pain in her chest. “Damn… a beautiful mare like you… who fights like that? No way I’d send you home…”

Cold smiled and nodded, tears dripping down her cheeks. “Just stay with me, Beacon. It’s going to be alright.” She looked up when she heard a distant, shrill steam whistle down the tracks.

“I could really use… use a nap…” Beacon mumbled, her eyes sliding shut.

“No!” Cold’s attention snapped back to her. She gently slapped Beacon’s cheek. “Stay with me, Beacon. Stay awake just a little longer, please.”

Her pleas were drowned out as the shrill whistling grew louder and the rumbling of a train approached the smoldering wreckage.

Author's Note

Behold: the awesome final battle! (Not affiliated with the horror movies.)

As a train enthusiast, of course I'm going to have my awesome final battle on top of a moving train. The final twist with the grenade was borrowed from an action movie I don't remember the name of.

And of course, the "Flaming Shield" has to have a flaming sword to match.

Stay tuned next week for the next chapter of Frost and Fire!