The Mystery of the Iron Bird Festival

Kramarenko looked at his wrist: the commander's watch showed five o'clock exactly. The sun disappeared behind the clouds, giving the endless steppe even more golden shades on the horizon. The officer's personal weapon rested in a holster and scabbard. There are only fourteen rounds left. Not much here and you can fight with a gun. Therefore, a large scabbard with a silver sword hung behind his back, and the body was protected by the same chain mail and a hastily sewn, but not bad, poddospeshnik, very similar to a quilted jacket.

Changing his position so that the blood would disperse through the body, the pilot lay down next to the airbag. The four shells found were pleasing to the eye, glittering in the sometimes peeking rays of the Sun. Now he is temporarily the commander and gunner of the artillery crew of a small-caliber cannon. Lyra became the loader. The light green unicorn could not understand for a long time what was required of her, but only with the proper skill and perseverance of a Soviet pilot, she took on the role of electricity to supply shells. And now, sitting by her side, in her invariable raincoat, the mare was looking out of the window with concentration.

Well done the pilot thought, Hope for exploration, but don't do it yourself.

The Pegasi had to warn in advance about the approach of the enemy. If the pilot understood everything correctly, he will have to deal with two dragons. Why they don't make up the majority in the squad is unclear.

They didn't let me get bored. The blue pegasus barked something at Lyra and sped off.

"They're coming, bastards. Kramarenko whispered angrily and once again checked the makeshift fastenings of the cannon to the window frame and floor.

After making sure that the gun would not fly out from the recoil into the room, the pilot raised his hand up, signaling Lyra to be ready to fire. The Gorynychs will be here any minute. And this time Kramarenko does not have a weighty argument in the form of a jet fighter.

***

Celestia stood in golden armor, next to her sister, holding a halberd in a magical grip. She hoped never to get them again, but, apparently, not fate. Twilight will not come to the rescue, you can only hope for yourself.

The moon saw in the upcoming battle the shadow of the former battles of the first centuries, after their becoming Alicorns. Only one thing had changed: not only the existence of the entire Order was at stake, but also the fate of Sunrise. Iron Birds never arrive just like that. In a way, the Son of the Messiah, changing everyone he met on his way. And the Moon will do everything so that this path does not end.

"Sister, Tia. If I fall, accept Sunrise as your own colt and raise him."

"No, the Moon. We'll raise him together."

A sad smile flashed across the mare's cold-blooded muzzle. The warm words of the elder sister warmed her heart, but the thought of death did not go far, still sitting in the darkness of her mind.

"They're coming. Luna said and took out a long sword from its scabbard.

The procedure was planned in advance. The big house turned into a fortress. Sunrise and Lyra were sitting behind a wall with a thunder-fang of a dead Bird. Their task was two middle-aged dragons. Not so much, but not so little. Their natural immunity to magic and strong scales prevented them from being struck down with an ordinary sword or spell. The other members of the Order had to keep a circular defense at home and, having exhausted the enemy, rush to the attack. If everything goes wrong, Luna and Celestia will fight the dragons while the others distract the remaining ones.

"Are we starting?"

Celestia nodded and together with her sister began to conjure a shield from the fire of dragons and other people's magic.

***

Two dots appeared in the field of vision, rapidly approaching. Two mighty dragons flew straight at Kramarenko and his charging Lyra.

Early the pilot estimated the distance, remaining in ambush.

The unicorn twitched, feeling the strong tension of the pilot. The big lizards were approaching with great speed and they could already be hit, but there was no shot. The thought turned out to be correct: the dragons spat fire and turned around for the next approach. At that moment, they lost speed and maneuverability.

There was no time and shells to shoot, and the pilot aimed at the barrel.

"Come on!" he yelled and jumped away from the cannon.

The light green mare did not disappoint, quickly lit the horn and directed it towards the cannon. A spark and a small discharge of current found its way. A loud and sharp shot rang out. The gun jerked back from the powder gases, but a kind of fastening made of chains, ropes and junk withstood, while not falling apart. A small projectile pierced the rather large wing of the fire-breathing lizard, leaving a laceration. A roar of pain echoed over the field, inspiring the defenders.

The dragon landed on the ground, where the forces of other motley creatures that had just come up were waiting. Kramarenko even noticed dog faces that had never been seen before. Without becoming fixated and rejoicing at the successful start of the battle, the pilot again fell to heavy weapons. The goal was the same. The second dragon gained altitude and disappeared from sight. It is unlikely that he will fall into the same trap.

"Come on," the man shouted once again, having previously removed his face from the trunk.

And again a thunderous shot. By. The shell passed nearby and buried itself in the ground. Correction and fire. Only the last, the fourth, killed the dragon.

"That's it. I'm empty." the pilot spoke and took out his sword.
The second dragon was still pouring fire from afar, sometimes missing. It was clear that he was very afraid of such an end. The main part of the enemy's forces has already come within firing distance. The defenders of the house shot what they could: some with magic rays, some with arrows, and darts. The attackers snapped, firing continuously.

Suddenly two figures flashed by, immediately soaring up. It was Tia and Vuna. If you fail to get all the dragons out of standing, then they will finish this business.

Kramarenko rushed to the exit, holding a silver sword at the ready. The doors were already open: some of the fans of the Migar had time to rush into the melee. Several more creatures and ponies were behind the pilot.
Loudly shouting "Hurrah", Kramarenko himself moved towards the enemy. Everyone took part in the battle and he did not want to be an exception because of his foreign origin.

The first to get in the way was an upright dog, slightly below the average height of a man, in leather armor and a spear. A short red raincoat completed the scanty uniforms. The pilot jumped away from the spear thrust, reducing the distance to a couple of steps. With a dissecting blow from the shoulder, the man inflicted a wound in the place of the collarbone. The dog fell to the ground, moaning in pain. The second swing of the sword landed in the neck, instantly stopping the torment of the creature. A black ray flashed over Kramarenko's head.

Turning to the new threat on the left, he saw a black unicorn five meters away. A sinister grin flashed across his face and another ray slid off his horn. The pilot did not have time to dodge, but the unicorn did not succeed either. The magic hit the yellow translucent shield. And the next moment, the black wizard was struck by a yellow ray, frying his muzzle. Lyra was standing next to her in light scaled armor. With a grateful nod to the unicorn who saved him, the pilot took out a pistol and transferred it to his left hand. Having looked over the boiling battle, Kramarenko's gaze caught on two pegasuses in red raincoats. They stood with their backs to him, mercilessly attacking the grey-cloaked griffin. It turned out to be fatal for them. Taking aim, the pilot put his finger on the trigger and pressed immediately.

Three shots and two more opponents lie lifeless. The griffin got up and flew up to meet a pony beetle, the same one that came at night to make an attempt. Their blades crossed. The bird-beast blinded the white beetle with its beak, and then finished it off with curved blades.

The next target was a simple pony, walking like a battering ram on Kramarenko. Letting him get closer, the pilot fired one shot and rushed towards the wounded enemy. And then he stabbed the pony's head with a stabbing blow.
The hand-to-hand slaughter was clearly on the side of the "grey cloaks". They won battles here and there, instilling fear in their enemies. The personal participation of the pilot raised their spirits, inspiring them to their victories.

***

At a safe distance, standing on the hill of Twilight Eclipse. Her coat color has become darker, almost black, and the mane developing in the magic wind has acquired the same dark shades. The cat's pupils watched with amusement what was happening below and in the air battles.