Chapter V: The Steadfast Spear, The Foul Wind

The fate of all is carried upon

The hallowed winds of fortune

And rests dutifully upon the tip

Of the spear, which was thrust

Into the breast of opposition.

- - -

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Clegmane had to admit that he was impressed. These students, these greenhorns that recruitment may have lifted their fickle noses to, had survived the two hours of grueling physical training that he and Gen D’arme had put them through tonight. Not only did they commit to the commands that the sergeant barked, but did so without so much as a whimper of complaint. Sure, they may moan and gripe after we dismiss them, Clegmane considered, but that’s only natural. He sniffed and watched as they completed the final lap of their march with Gen D’arme in close pursuit, eyeing them all carefully for mistakes. As the young sergeant marched about the tightly packed corral of students, Clegmane could not help but also be impressed by the way Gen D’arme handled the calisthenics and adjudication portions of training. He was a good help in a pinch, which allowed Clegmane to focus primarily on the applications of force and the dealings of death. But, that would have to wait until tomorrow, when they were fresh.

Well, he conceded, fresher.

“Platoon, Halt!” Gen D’arme’s voice carried over the evening air and echoed across the four outer walls which ringed the courtyard. As one, all sixty students stomped to a half. Clegmane watched their chests heave, their brows drip and their eyes sink with fatigue. He smiled and stepped forward. No eyes followed him, which was good, for he did not wish for them to see the subtle grin be bore.

“Well done, recruits,” commended Clegmane with his loud voice. “You have survived in two hours what most guards endure over several weeks.” The students broke their silent stoicism to smile, laugh and blunder their way into another twenty push-ups by Gen D’arme. When they had finished, many could not rise, at least not for the first five minutes. Still, Clegmane waited until every one of his recruits had risen before speaking once again. “Despite these accomplishments, Lady Sparkle and I still require much more of you—there remains our combat training tomorrow evening. Get food and sleep in abundance tonight, for you cannot function without both, so do not neglect either one.” He turned and walked away from the group. “Dismiss them, Sergeant.”

“Platoon: Dismissed! See you here tomorrow evening.” A series of groans, barely held back escaped the throats of a few students—the rest were wise and kept silent as they shuffled out and away from their tormentors. Their day was over.

Clegmane bade farewell to Gen D’arme and opened the doors leading to Twilight’s classroom. With each step, he felt a grinding of bone and sinew, followed by a brief shooting of pain deep through his muscles. He ignored the protest his body was staging. He just wanted out of this building and back to his house, to water his onions and rediscover his bed. I have to fix that door when I get back, he thought.

“Done already, Captain?” Twilight’s voice carried behind Clegmane, causing him to start. He began hoping that she did not see that pathetic display. Another part of him was simply… relieved to see her. Relieved? That can’t be right. Pleased, sure. I guess. Clegmane resisted the urge to shake his head. The pain shot through his leg once more as he turned to face Twilight fully. The jest in her eyes, as far as he could tell, faded into what resembled concern. Oh no, he thought, she noticed. Just answer the question, ass!

“Yes. And please, Miss Sparkle, I’ll thank you not to call me captain.”

“If you say so, Sir Clegmane,” Twilight rolled her eyes.

Did she seriously just do that? Clegmane narrowed his own eyes. “And what does that mean?”

“It means that you sure do have a way with ponies, Clegmane. Gene must have really wanted to help you if he just did two whole hours of… that!”

“Two whole hours of what, praytell?” he asked.

“I would call it ‘overdoing it’, but you seem pretty happy just calling it basic training.” Twilight snickered as she brushed past him.

These hallways are large enough to fit a carriage through, Clegmane thought. Was that necessary? “If I may remind you, Miss Sparkle, that a dragon will be all too pleased to simply ‘overdo it’ when he arrives.”

Twilight walked into her amphitheater of a classroom and headed straight for her desk, piling her notes into her waiting saddlebag. Slowly, it filled and became quite visibly heavy. Is she leaving with more papers than she brought in? He wondered. I’ve never seen such a lithe frame carry so much.

I wonder how much more it can car—No! Dirty old stallion. You’re done.

She isn’t. Not even close, bru.

We’re not in South Zebrika anymore, self. Cut it out!

Bru, she’s talking!

“Are you alright, Clegmane?” Twilight asked, cocking her head to one side.

“Y-yes, Miss Sparkle. Just pondering my service in South Zebrika, is all.”

He saw her face then turn from curiosity to invested curiosity. “South Zebrika? I would love to visit South Zebrika someday! I read a book on South Zebrika once and I admit that it did make me feel rather nostalgic. Of what, I can’t remember, but it’s not like that matters.”

Clegmane simply looked at her. His Younger Self prodded. Mares only ramble when they’re interested, bru.

Not so, Young Self, now please vanish back to the obscure void from whence you came! Your sudden presence is jarring and unwelcome.

Fine! screamed his Younger Self. You’re only young once, bru and I thought I’d come along and stir up the hormones a bit to make you see what’s in front of your eyes. Maybe feel younger again, too.

Not necessary. Now leave me in peace.

Yeah, peace—like you’ve been feeling that since she stumbled back into your life. The Younger Self was gone and Clegmane was all to happy too frown again. I need a drink.

“Are you sure you’re alright, Clegmane?” asked Twilight again. “I thought I saw my students groveling in the dirt, not you—no reason to be exhausted, is there?”

“Do I look the part?” Clegmane slowly asked.

“Very much so,” Twilight nodded. “Be careful and save some of your cruelty for the dragon, perhaps?”

Clegmane’s frown deepened. “Cruelty? You call basic calisthenics and marching a cruelty?”

“Yes, Clegmane,” replied Twilight taking a step closer to him. “They are not soldiers. You can’t push them too hard, or else they’ll fall short of their study goals.”

“I was tasked with making a militia to defend Seasaddle, not lecture it.” Clegmane muttered evenly.

Twilight set a hard gaze upon him. “I will not have my students suffer failure and become too worn out to even cast their spells.”

Worn out, eh?

Twilight continued, “Furthermore, I will not have them pushed so hard that they may injure themselves, then they will become a liability rather than the ponies this city can depend on!”

Injuries and dependency, eh? “Twilight, what’s this really about?” Clegmane now took a step forward.

Twilight blustered. “Excuse me? It’s about our students and did you just call me—”

“Oh, it’s our students now? Worn out? Injured? Dependant?” Clegmane took another step forward. He saw that Twilight’s face was flushed, but all the same did not move. “Are we talking about the same body of students or one worn out, injured and questionably dependable body in particular?” He stepped even closer to the little purple mare in his sight. She still held her ground, though her breath became heavy. His eye may have been gone, but Clegmane’s ears functioned at their peak. “What aren’t you telling me, Twilight? Are you really worried that your students—my recruits—will turn into withered, useless old warhorses like me?”

“No, no! That’s not what I meant at all!”

“Is it?” He pressed, getting closer.

“S-speaking of injuries, Clegmane,” Twilight motioned to his hind leg, though his gaze never left her.

“I can handle it.” Clegmane said, dismissively.

“But, still, I worry.”

“About me? Why?”

“Y-yes. I care about you.” Twilight’s purple cheeks flushed a deeper magenta. “I woudn’t be able to forgive myself if anything happened to you, dragon or no dragon.”

“You mean if I were to—”

“Please don’t say it,” she pleaded.

Clegmane sighed heavily and stepped back from Twilight. Without thinking, he placed a gentle hoof upon her cheek and said, “Everyone dies, Twilight, save the Ageless. Not everyone truly lives.”

Twilight hesitated. Clegmane could see the conflict in her wandering lavender eyes. She really does have beautiful eyes, he conceded. Slowly, she raised her hoof and takes it away from her cheek, but still kept it within her grasp. “Even for all her years, Princess Luna still has much to live for—she’s been given another chance at life, to see its beauty rather than the shadows that veil it from time to time.”

“I fail to see what Princess Luna has to do with your concern for me, though I also feel like I am not bedding the right questions.” Clegmane gave her a look that even he could not fully understand. Might as well cut to the chase if she doesn’t get it, clever as she is. Speaking of, I wonder if there is a spell to reinforce my door. After a moment of considering who it was he would be reinforcing his door against, the motion was defeated in Clegmane’s superior cognitive court.

In the mean time, if any pony could strive to flush as deep as possible, Twilight Sparkle rose to the challenge and succeeded marvelously. “Um, I can explain this morning….”

“Please do,” he granted, though he had to admit that he was almost enjoying this little conversation, if only to watch her squirm. Does that make me a bad guy?

“I had a dream,” she admitted, looking away.

Oh boy… Clegmane ground his teeth and prepared for… something.

“It was a terrifying dream,” she added.

I’m not sure how to feel about that, actually. His good eye narrowed.

“You were alone, bleeding, but fighting against some formless black menace.”

Okay, not as bad as that could have been. He sighed.

“I think it was the dragon… Kàndelthylt. He was going to kill you. And I ran away. I hated myself for running away, but I did it because you told me to.”

Silence passed uncomfortably between them. Clegmane shifted his sore hooves, but maintained eye contact. Her eyes were pleading. He saw that they were searching. For some kind of reaction perhaps? He did not know. Still, she had a dream the previous night, it seems that the dragon was overwhelming her as well, occupying every fibre of her. Then why, he wondered, was she always trying to get so close if that was the case? What did Princess Luna have in mind...? How deeply does Twilight care for me? It would never be that obvious, could it?

He asked, “A bad dream. Is that why you think my bed seemed too big?”

Her lavender eyes shot wide open and she stammered, saying, “Wh-what! I do not think that! I was just—”

“Making sure I was safe? All night?” He prodded.

“You were screaming and—”

“That explains the broken door.” Clegmane grumbled.

“Yes, and I apologized for that. Now will you let me—”

“I’m a grown stallion, Twilight Sparkle! I can take care of myself!” barked Clegmane, harsher than he intended, for she recoiled. Then, to his surprise, he saw a fire light in her eyes and a deep frown form, accented by furrowed brows.

She barked back, “I stayed with you because you were being tormented by Kàndelthylt! He was hurting you and there was nothing I can do, so I ran to you, trying to comfort you! I can’t stand to see someone I love being tortured like that!”

Love?

Clegmane’s good eye widened and he felt all frustrations leave him. She did not stop her tirade, though this blow was delivered as a mere whisper. “He hurt me too, Clegmane. I felt your pain, too.”

That did it. A cold spear, as if the tail of the black dragon itself, had lashed out, striking his heart. Pain inflicted upon him, he could certainly bear, and with pride. Pain visited upon Twilight Sparkle, however, was something else entirely. His breath shortened, his pulse pounding. He whispered back to her, saying, “You really do care, don’t you?”

She did not hesitate. “Yes, Clegmane. For longer than you know.”

Another moment of silence came and went. Clegmane stared at nothing in particular. Finally, he asked, “In this dream of yours, how did it end? Did I kill him or did he kill me?”

Her gaze hardened on him. Through teary eyes and clenched teeth, Twilight said, “I’m not sure. You told me to run away.”

“As you should,” he responded. “If that dream were to become reality.”

“Do you honestly expect me to do that?”

“May the Element of Honesty endorse me,” Clegmane declared.

“We’ll see what she has to say about that when she gets here.”

“If things get out of hoof, you need to get safe, Miss Sparkle.”

“Stop calling me that!” Clegmane thought he felt the ground shudder slightly beneath him.

“I’m being serio—”

“SO AM I!” Twilight’s teary eyes narrowed and brightened as if with the light of the sun itself. Yet, even for the brilliance of those eyes, the world around Clegmane darkened. The tremors that he barely felt now very nearly took him off his hooves. Twilight’s voice darkened with the world. “CAN YOU NOT SEE FOR THE SIGHT WHICH REMAINS WITH YOU!”

Clegmane took a step back, his jaw tightened and every hair follicle on his back raised. Sweat pooled around the band of his eye patch and trickled inexorably down the bridge of his snout. For the first time in what felt like a lifetime, he was afraid.

The darkness receded and the fire faded from Twilight's eyes, though the tears remained shimmering. “I’m not going to leave you,” she added softly. She stepped forward and pressed her nose against his. Clegmane simply stood, with tightened jaw and widened eye. “I love you…” she all but whispered, and he felt her loom closer, shaming the gap between their quivering lips.

“Twilight…” he tried to speak, but her breath caught with his and the warmth washed over his mouth. Lavender, he noted as he watched her eyelids sink down, the flush of her cheek radiating. He felt a similar heat conquer his own cheeks. Then, he noted the gentle, tepid stroke of her lips brushing against his.

No. Clegmane pulled away; regret trailing after departing visage from hers. He caught a momentary glimpse of the surprise in her eyes as they shot open, her lips pursed and ready. He wished he didn’t look, because total confusion and dismay swiftly replaced what was once bliss upon her lovely face. He turned away and walked toward the door leading out into the grounds.

“We should go.” Twilight did not move and neither did he, despite his hoof reaching for the door handle and his back was still to her. He sighed, deeper and more heavily than he could ever recall doing before. The regret still lingered, gnawing at him.

No, he repeated to himself. Can’t let your guard down now. You’ll only end up making her worse, warhorse. Old, beaten, retired warhorse.

“Come on,” he said flatly, still refusing to look in her direction. After a moment, he heard the shuffling of papers being placed into an open saddlebag and the soft tapping of hooves on hardwood. He stepped out the door and Twilight magically extinguished the lights of her classroom. With the turning of a key and the slide of a lock, the Sparkle Institution’s first day had officially come to an end. The hoofsteps of the only two souls departing the grounds carried silently along the Pintocific breeze.

Clegmane sniffed and the air felt heavy, not with passionate angst, as he would have dismissed, but with… something else. The breeze carried with it a saturated air that weighed heavily on his mind. Before long, his dark mane whipped up in a sudden updraft and the breeze became a roaring wind. He glanced back to see the open Pintocific, darkly veiled, for the moon itself hid behind billowing clouds. He saw that Twilight glanced toward the same heavy clouds, despite the sadness in her eyes. That lingering regret still struck him, like the hammers of midnight bells. She continued to watch the threatening clouds and did not seem to notice that he was now looking only at her.

Should I say something? Apologize? Argh! Stupid old stallion. He chided himself before finally saying, “Storm’s brewing. Probably headed northeast, just past us.” He turned around and continued down the path to the Downs.

“No,” was Twilight’s somber reply. “Weather ponies are coaxing it over Seasaddle tonight, to help saturate the soil and prevent re-ignition.” She too, turned back toward the path he heard her following him once again.

So a storm is coming. How thematic and foreboding. Clegmane rolled his eyes at the heavens. He sniffed again. There’s something that is not quite right about this air, though. It smells a little off. He did not have time to contemplate, for the peaked roof of the Downs came into spectacular view, ringed by the eastern star-studded sky. Both Clegmane and Twilight ascended the hillside and were finally met with the front door.

For some reason or another, neither of them made move to enter the elder abode. Clegmane glanced over at Twilight, who simply stared at the door before she lazily turned to meet his gaze. Her eyes carried a tiredness that Clegmane was all too familiar with. Her ears dropped and her coat seemed not to shine, amid the starlight as it usually did.

As it usually did…Clegmane suddenly found himself thinking of Canterlot, of his former office that now belonged to Shining Armor, of occupying that office, of being so bored of it, that he took the time to stroll about the grounds in order to avoid it. He thought of how surprised he was when walking and suddenly finding Twilight—late into her adolescence and beautiful as the night itself—upon the high balcony of the Observatory, actively charting the stars. Other times, he recalled, she would simply walk along the hallways of the palace and ‘lose her way’, asking for him to walk with her until her bearings returned to her. He would oblige every time, since she would refuse to have any other guard escort her. He never thought it actually meant something to her. But what could he have known? Vidalia was always waiting for him at the Downs. Clegmane remembered ordering a little house prepared just for her to move up to Canterlot when she was sick, so she could be with him until the end. The end came before she could move. That house, regardless, was completed and sold to a newlywed as their first home. As far as he knew, they still lived there, unaware of their house’s original intended occupant.

“Clegmane?” Twilight’s voice swam into his ears and he returned to reality. “Are you alright?”

Clegmane stiffened. Is she asking me if I’m alright? After what I did back there? You are a fool, ‘Sir Steadfast’.

“I don’t know,” was his honest reply.

“Listen, I’m sorry,” she mumbled.

“For what? If anything, I should be—”

“I shouldn’t have put you in that situation… I just wanted to tell you how I felt—feel—whichever, I don’t know anymore.” She trailed softly off.

“No, I’m sorry, Twilight. I let myself get overwhelmed with everything that’s going on and what may happen. I’m just—”

“Scared?” She offered a weak smile.

“Can’t let…” he hesitated. Anyone in. Not right now.

“Can’t let… what?” She asked.

He was about to answer, when a streak of brilliant white flashed across the sky, just once, but enough to capture his attention. Then it happened again, then two more—then, dozens. Twilight’s eyes widened and she ran out into the middle of the grassy field, head arched skyward.

“I forgot this was tonight!” Clegmane kept his eyes up, watching the nigh endless tracing of short-lived streaks arcing across the starlit canvas above. He sat down next to Twilight, who edged a little close than he had hoped. “I’ve been waiting weeks for this star shower to come by, though, I admit that I forgot to transfer the bearings from Ponyville to here.” She sighed contently and fell back, still staring at the glittering heavenly display. Clegmane fell back as well, crossing his hooves behind his head and watched in silence. Still, despite the beauty that fell above, or lay beside him, his good eye did not full leave the distant darkly forming clouds and the uneasy breeze they blew.

Not another word was exchanged between them, for they simply watched and let the sky fall.

The door lifted from the floor. Clegmane fastened it to the hinges before tightening the screws and releasing it altogether. With a light squeak, the door opened and closed. Aside from the black scorch mark that adorned its hallway side, his bedroom door was good as new. Pleased, Clegmane yawned and ran a hoof along his dark mane before walking to his bed and collapsing down upon it. He cast a worried glance back toward his door, fearing that it would crumble. It, however, did not and continued to stand tall. I swear, he thought, this house would blow away if I didn’t watch it all or keep it together. With a satisfied sigh, Clegmane lay back and welcomed sleep to overcome his wakefulness.

Curious, Clegmane wondered, as he walked about the Downs. There, in the middle of the foyer, sat a perfectly round white onion. It was fresh, as if recently gardened and washed. It smelled delicious, at least to him. Why would anyone just leave this on the floor. He walked toward it and made to raise it with a flare of his horn, only the onion did not move. He tried again, and again it sat perfectly still. With a grunt, Clegmane approached the onion and reached with his hoof, only this time, it bumped against something. “What’s this?” He asked, running his outreaching hoof toward the onion again. Again, it bumped against some invisible wall. Glass? He prodded the air and indeed, he could not break past it. A barrier, he concluded, alarm rising in his mind.

A trap! He turned about and saw his encased armour, polished and waiting. He quickly made for it, but his hooves felt heavy, as if weighed down by lead. A quiet huff caused his ears to perk and he turned back toward the onion, seeing it lit aflame. “But, how?” Clegmane demanded aloud. He watched the onion as its flesh curled and cracked, turning black beneath the licking flame. Dread filled him when another sound emanated from the onion: weeping. Soft, hopeless weeping from the throat of a mare, yet it clearly came from this onion.

“I’m sorry,” hissed the onion, pain dripping from its newfound voice. No, he noted. Not new.

“Vidalia?” he called.

“I’m sorry, my love.” The voice was fading, fleeing away as the flames consumed and blackened the onion further.

“Vidalia!” Clegmane shouted, straining against his heavy hooves, but neither they, nor the barrier allowed him to get near. “VIDALIA!” he screamed as the voice ebbed away, leaving only the blackened remains of the onion’s ashes.

“Clegmane! Where are you?” Another voice called down from above. It was Twilight! Clegmane turned around and saw the small mare peek out from the hallway and gasp at the flames behind him. “Don’t worry, Clegmane! I’ll get you out of here!” At once, she charged toward the stairs. As she did so, another sense of foreboding dread ensnared Clegmane’s heart. A deep rumbling shook the house, sending him to his knees. Another tremour took Twilight’s hooves out from under her and she tumbled halfway down the very stairs she tried to descend.

“Twilight!” Clegmane struggled to get to his hooves. “Twilight, are you alright?”

“Ugh, yeah,” she replied, rubbing her head. “Nothing I can’t handle, right?” She chuckled hollowly and stumbled forward, toward him. Another tremor, far stronger than the previous two shook the earth.

Suddenly, the roof of the Downs cracked and was torn completely off, raining debris and… ash upon them. The sky above was a blazing orange storm of fire and the heat swept down, robbing Clegmane’s throat of all moisture. His lungs burned and his knees grew weak. Worst of all, his wound, that which he received from fighting the dragon known as Kàndelthylt, began to burn hotter than his lungs. Clegmane tried to scream for the pain, but could not for his dry throat. A deep, dark shadow overtook him then, a foul smell wafted in after the heat. Clegmane looked at Twilight and saw that she was stumbling back against a nearby wall, terror etched into her face. He too, looked up at what Twilight saw and his screams still could not escape his throat.

Kàndelthylt emerged from the fires above them both, his black scales and blue eyes gleaming. The dragon turned his great head and took notice of Clegmane. “Look to your city first, Steadfast. See how it burns despite all your efforts.” His voice was laced with malice and pride and Clegmane could not help but look out the windows facing the Pintocific. Aflame, the great city crumbled along the coastline.

Kàndelthylt’s voice bellowed once more and the rest of the Downs began crumbling around them. “Now, bear witness to another of your many failures!” Clegmane heard Twilight scream. He tore his face away from burning Seasaddle and wished that his did not. Kàndelthylt lunged forward and opened his incredible jaws. A long, sliming tongue lashed out from behind swordlike teeth and wrapped dexterously around Twilight, binding her fast and silencing her screams with a squeeze. Before Clegmane could scream in protest, Twilight was pulled into the black dragon’s maw, which shut immediately upon her.

Crunch.

Clegmane roared as he sprang forward, slamming into something solid. “Good!” he seethed, “I have you now, wyrm!” Clegmane reached out with his magic and grasped a loose object, a large splinter of shattered wood, sharp and firm. He made to plunge the stake deep into his foe, but, alas, his levitated weapon was stayed. With a grunt, Clegmane tried to apply more force, but still, the stake would not plunge down. Again, and again, he fed his will into the spell. Aha! He laughed when he saw that it was moving, slowly, but inexorably down. The pointed tip bore ever closer to its soft target.

Wait, soft? Clegmane’s fiery mind settled and he felt with his hooves. What he registered was not black scales, but grey fur. Through his one good eye, Clegmane did not peer into the harsh icy eyes of Kàndelthylt the dragon, but those gleaming and terrified of Gen D’arme, the pony. Clegmane fell back and immediately, a cold horror washing over him. The stake in his magical grasp was held firm still, pressing into the young stallion’s carotid, mere centimeters away from lacerating his flesh. At once, Clegmane released his hold. The light green aura of his magic faded, being instead replaced with a purple aura before launching away from Gen D’arme’s throat and burying itself in the ceiling. He saw the familiar frame of Twilight Sparkle extinguishing her own horn, standing in the open threshold of his room, the door once again removed. Though, instead of merely being blown off its hinges like before, what remained of the wooden work lay strewn about, broken into countless blackened splinters. The makeshift weapon that was stuck to the ceiling resembled all the others. Clegmane’s gaze fell back onto Gen D’arme, who lay back, shock and relief awash upon his face. Clegmane stumbled and tripped, landing hard at the foot of his bed. His scarring flank began screaming in protest at the harsh treatment it had just received, though only welling tears gave any indication.

“Gene!” Twilight called out, running to him.

“Nah, don’t worry about me, Twi. I just got the wind knocked outa me, is all.” Both of their eyes turned immediately to Clegmane, whose chest heaved and whose tears flowed. He tried to fight them, but even Clegmane knew when he was beaten. He began to slowly shake his head.

Sisters forgive me. Clegmane wept.

Gen D’arme forgave him, though Clegmane did not feel like he deserved to be forgiven. The young stallion arrived early that morning, as he did yesterday, to carry out his orders from the Princesses and see them delivered to the Institution. Twilight was already up, Clegmane learned later on, and she was preparing breakfast for them all when she heard the screaming coming from his room.

“We tried forcing the door open, then I tried bucking it,” Gen D’arme explained. “Finally, Twilight got all fed up and just blasted the damned thing apart.” His voice, Clegmane noted, remained a little shaky, despite the humour in it. He was trying to shrug it off; I know the feeling, thought he. Being strong is harder than we make it look.

“I may have overdone it a little,” Twilight laughed, albeit hollowly. Clegmane could see that she was still concerned. She tried to get near him, though he would simply move away or walk faster. He need not look at her to know that this was upsetting her.

Neither of the party exchanged any more words for the remainder of the walk into Seasaddle. All that could be heard was the squeaking of the wooden wheels of Gen D’arme’s cart, containing equipment for the evening’s combat training. These included both their sets of arms and armor. His armaments had been promptly returned to him, care of the City of Seasaddle, free of charge.

Still, the silence pervaded. Perhaps Twilight and Gen D’arme, who she still insisted on calling ‘Gene’, conversed quietly between themselves, but Clegmane took no heed, nor any interest. He arrived at the Collegiate well before them. When they caught up, Clegmane silently willed the canvas of the cart back, pulling out his helm, shield and spear, leaving the rest of his set behind before walking toward the courtyard. Both Gen D’arme and Twilight called to him, but their hails, he did not heed.

I just need to be alone for the day—need to work some of this aggression off. Stupid old stallion, nearly getting one of your own killed. If that cursed Kàndelthylt was playing a game with him, then Kàndelthylt sure as manure was winning. Clegmane thrust his spear into a nearby sitting log, splitting it in half. With a flash of his horn, Clegmane ignited the kindling and a small fire crackled to life. Into this fire, Clegmane held the steel tip of his spear.

“May I ask, sir, what it is you’re doing?” Gen D’arme asked as he entered the courtyard, cart in tow.

“Old laws die hard, like old stallions,” Clegmane replied.

“I don’t recall, sir, of any laws that require heated spearheads.” The younger guardspony set the cart down and walked toward Clegmane, cautiously.

“It’s an old Pegasus code, long written and long abolished since the Unification.”

“I’m a little rusty on Pegasus history, sir.” Gen D’arme sat across from him.

Clegmane waited a moment and checked the colour of the steel before replying. “If a warrior was out of line, he was given the choice to lose his place in the phalanx, or branded with a hot spear tip. The chevron-shaped mark that it left was a reminder to him and to all other pegasi that he had crossed the line, but had elected to ensure that he would never cross it again.” He ignored the look of surprise and realization that marked Gen D’arme’s face.

“Sir, you’re not going to brand yourself over what happened this morning.”

“Is that so, son?” Clegmane turned the steel over.

“Yes, sir!” replied the younger stallion. “There was no harm done—you may have scared the living daylights out of me, but be that as it may, you did not actually kill me, nor will I underestimate your agility ever again.” Gen D’arme chuckled.

“Never underestimate your opponent, regardless of your relationship to said opponent. You will do well to remember that, Sergeant.”

“Yes, sir!”

“Good,” huffed Clegmane as he continued to turn the tip. Silence descended for the crackling of the small fire.

Gen D’arme elected to break it. “Um, sir?”

“Yes, Sergeant?”

“Permission to speak freely, sir.”

“Granted.”

“Why the buck are you still heating your spearhead?”

Clegmane chuckled, though he could feel no mirth. Gen D’arme, shifted uncomfortably, it seemed. “Another rule of combat, Sergeant,” he raised the spear out of the fire, its tip glowing a pale orange, “is to never assume the predictability of your opponent.” He quickly rotated the spear and pressed that glowing tip to his right shoulder, hard upon his large deltoid muscle. With a soft hiss, his flesh coiled.

Sisters, that hurts! Tears welled and teeth ground, but Clegmane held fast in spite of the searing pain. Gen D’arme shouted and moved to grab the spear away from Clegmane’s aura and away from his captain’s shoulder. Clegmane could only imagine the surprise on his sergeant’s face, as he rose to his hind legs, twisted at the hip and received him with both forelegs.

With searing spear never leaving his reddening shoulder, Clegmane breathlessly spun Gen D’arme around, reversing his momentum and all but tossed the younger stallion away, unharmed. He did not wish to hurt his Sergeant, for there was still work to do. Regardless, he shifted his stance and stepped out of his opponent’s line of attack. Gen D’arme, it seemed, had not taken the invitation to settle, for he did not turn around, but instead gave a quick sidelong glance before shifting his own weight forward, then lashing back with what Clegmane guessed was a semi-powered buck to startle him off-kilter. Again, he could only imagine the look of surprise or frustration on his Sergeant’s face as the strike met nothing but air, for Clegmane sidestepped and shuffled forward to bridge the gap between him and Gen D’arme. Any confrontation lasting longer than a few seconds was far too prolonged for his liking. Time to end this.

“Settle down, son,” whispered Clegmane as he wrapped his forelimb around Gen D’arme’s throat, anchoring his hoof with the crook of his other forelimb, which hooked around the back of the younger stallion’s head, pushing it forward. The headlock, according to Clegmane’s understanding of Buckchat Silat, was designed as a quick, unexpected way to silently end a lethal confrontation. His instructor, Graceful Song’kono—grandmaster from Silat’s distant islands of origin, Indoneighsia—had altered the technique for non-lethal ways to end violence without excessive violence. Instead, Gen D’arme tensed, at first, but then settled down for the pressure against his throat.

From between clenched teeth, he simply sputtered a, “Yes, sir.” Clegmane released him and stepped back, removing the spear from his shoulder and sticking it hard into the ground. He then sat down at the fire and watched its glowing embers rise and sparkle. He kept his back to Gen D’arme, who did not move.

Clegmane ignored the twenty students that watched, awestruck, from around the courtyard. He ignored Twilight, who stepped out of the doors, lightly gasping at him and his dejected Sergeant. Clegmane did not take his eyes off the fire, nor did he move to nurse the throbbing burn on his shoulder. He could feel the edges of the chevron, how it pointed up to the sky, where the ancient pegasi once made his act law. Never again, he thought.

With a low, rumbling voice, he said, “Do you not have class to attend?” At once, what students where were quickly shuffled inside, brushing past Twilight and into the building until only she remained outside, staring at him. He saw that she slowly opened her mouth to speak, but no words left. Instead, she turned around and went inside, leaving only him and Gen D’arme. All was silence, save the gentle snapping of the little fire, burning hot.

The morning ended swiftly and Gen D’arme prepared the course, while Clegmane stared into the embers of a long-dead fire. Sixty dulled spears and sixty rounded shields accompanied sixty helms of general design. Midday was upon them and sixty students slowly shuffled out of the nearby doors and into his courtyard.

Gen D’arme was quickly upon them, though his voice lacked the ferocity of yesterday, its authority did not fade. “Recruits, get your gear and line up.” Good job, son. Clegmane smiled inwardly. Sixty sets of hooves trotted, thumping across the grass. The sound of clattering steel and hushed murmurs filled Clegmane’s ears, though he did watch them. In less than thirty seconds, sixty students lined across the inner eastern wall and stood rigid, silent. Gen D’arme took the time to go up and down the line, checking their readiness before trotting over to Clegmane.

“They’re ready for you, sir,” declared the young stallion.

“We shall see, Sergeant. Thank you.” Clegmane rose and pulled his spear free from the ground. He took up his shield and carried his helm at his side as he approached the rigid line of sixty. He stopped before them all and gently raised his helmet up. The blue crest of its horsetail swung lazily in the breeze as it came down and rest upon his dark head. With amber eye blazing, he thrust the edge of his rounded shield into the ground and it stood up in the gouged grass. Within that same second, Clegmane leapt forward, spear held in his grasp and bore down upon the nearest student.

With green panic-stricken eyes, the student, a stallion of dark purple coat and yellow mane yelped, raising his shield up. With a loud clang, Clegmane’s steel spearhead resounded off the concaved surface of student’s shield. Losing his footing, the student fell back on his haunches, dropping his spear, but his defense was still raised.

“Good,” grunted Clegmane as he stepped back. Many eyes followed the downfall of their fellow student, others continued to watch him wearily from behind the steel brows of their helms. Clegmane chose among the former and whipped the shaft of his spear around and down toward the crown of an unsuspecting student, who held her gaze upon the purple stallion.

“Look out, Olive!” The green mare started at the use of her name. Clegmane noted that is was that orange mare—whom Twilight appeared to be quite fond of—that issued the warning. Hazel Drift was it? Good observation skills, to say the least. Recruit Olive glanced up, but only in time to receive a tap on the top of her helm. Olive cringed and kept her eyes tightly shut. When there was no pain, she slowly opened them up again and Clegmane saw that they were a lovely light shade of lavender, much like Twilight’s. The surprise in those eyes was nearly palpable as Clegmane withdrew his spear.

“Not so good.” He stepped back and watched as the purple stallion returned to his hooves and took up his spear once more. Clegmane swept a careful glance across the line of sixty and nodded slightly. Quite a few of them who were not dumfounded or wide-eyed, had actually—whether they themselves noted it or not—leveled their own spears in his direction, following his movements.

Impressive, he thought. Now time to get to work.

He began, saying, “I doubt the dragon will be so forward and obvious as I am.” The students murmured and exchanged glances, but he saw to the end of that, saying, “Break up into pairs—we begin immediately!”

The sound of steel clashing against steel and shouting echoed into the day. Somewhere over the Bay of Seasaddle, the Pintocific swelled and her winds lashed out, carrying the darkened clouds from last night. Light raindrops fell onto Clegmane and his recruits as their training intensified. Soon, the air was filled not with the sounds of steel on steel, but of water against shield, spear and helm. Even as the soil turned to mud beneath then, Clegmane pressed on well into the evening.

The darker clouds, he figured, were yet to come.

So who are you to judge, sir?

Who are you to name, madame?

Guiltless among us all, condemned.

The wings of the sun and cries

Of the moon shall not even know.

- - -

END OF BOOK I

Author's Note

This is the end of Book I. The adventures of Twilight and Clegmane will continue.

Please read, review and put this in the feature box! Heh.
I hope y'all had a happy newyear! I was hoping to get this chapter up before the end of 2012, but to work, you know, food on my family's table. Still, the best is yet to come! Hopefully, sooner than you think....

Prepare for AppleSpike.[/hint]