Somewhere on Eastern Seas

by PaulAsaran

Rating: everyone
Tags: My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Gallus, Sad, Other, Drama, Original Character
Length: 12047

After running away from that which he can't have, Gallus braves a typhoon.

Gallus wants something with all his heart, but it's something he knows he can never have. Seeking to escape the pain, he volunteers as a guard for the new Griffonstone Embassy in the Eastern Isles. Disaster strikes, and so he braves the storms.

An entire race is at stake. Gallus seeks to help someone far more important.

Fifth Place winner of the 2024 Non-Pony Writing Contest!

Inspired by the Beach Boys song Somewhere Near Japan.

Other stories inspired by music:
Ordinary World
Bed of Roses
Escape
Bulletproof Heart
Drops of Jupiter
How to Save a Life
Forgive Me, Friend
Time for Tea

Paul's always been a good writer, and this is some of his best work.

—PresentPerfect

It's gripping. It's raw. It's tragic. It's beautiful.

—Jack of a Few Trades

Published 2024-08-28 23:50:02 UTC
Last updated 2024-08-28 23:50:02 UTC

Rescue Me

The winds raged in the gloom, but it was only a pretext to what existed below. The ocean towered and collapsed, waves frothing as they rose in gargantuan mountains that soon thundered down, crashing and colliding and smashing one another. The world was wet and dark and filled with a cacophony, like a thousand train wrecks occurring in a twisted symphony. Overhead, thick, heavy clouds roiled and churned, destroying even the faint memory of sunlight but occasionally basking the chaos in skittering, crackling lightning.

In one small stretch of this massive maelstrom, the clouds bulged. Three lines formed, knifing towards the waves like a trio of bullets. Within seconds their neat, tight formation was shattered by the buffeting winds, which sent the tips wobbling and threw the cloud cover away to reveal a trio of griffons. They were each dressed in sleek, tight white suits that protected their fur from the powerful rain and winds. Flight goggles covered their faces, water streaking in neat little drops. Only their beaks remained exposed, grim and clenched as each griffon struggled to maintain a stable flight path.

Gallus flew in the second position behind the leader. His wings twisted and churned, working against the gales that were fighting like rabid timberwolves to end his flight. His eagle eyes scoured the seas below, taking in the waves that would have towered over buildings. Every now and then he glanced at his wingmates, which was why he noted when the flight leader made a sharp gesture with his claws. His brain translated the motions with the skill of long training and limited experience: Object of interest below. The leader looked back at Gallus, who nodded, then at the third flight member, who did the same. Together they flew lower, enough that Gallus could have touched the higher waves if he dared lower his legs from their tucked-in flying positions. His body went tense even as his wings worked fluidly, all the better to control his airborne motions. The others moved similarly; they all knew it would take so little for things to go wrong at this altitude.

Soon he spotted what had gotten his leader’s attention: pieces of wood being thrown about by the waves. His pulse rose as he tried to examine the boards. Clearly timber. Clearly shattered. He traced the path of one large chunk of hull that swirled and spun as it rose with a watery mountain.

The leader made another gesture: Expanded search pattern. Gallus barely saw it, but wasted no time flying in a wider formation. Fighting against his pounding heart just as much as the living storm, he kept his breaths as even as he could and rose slightly to avoid a particularly high crest. More wood. A lone oar. What may have been a torn up mast. He searched and searched, twisting and ducking and weaving against the wind, eyes squinting against the darkness.

There could be anyone out here. Even him. Even her. It would be so easy to fly right by without even noticing. He raised a talon to protect his flight goggles. They were enchanted. It was more habit and the nauseating stirrings in his gut than necessity.

A sharp whistle pierced the chaos. Gallus snapped his head to the left. Their third was waving. The leader barely gestured an order before Gallus changed to an intercept course, forced to corkscrew his body to keep from being knocked out of the sky by a sharp, short gust. One foam-tipped wave came within inches of catching his wing during the maneuver, the droplets slashing up with the force of the wind.

He reached her first, and she pointed into the frothing, furious seas. He peered, trying to follow the direction of her talon. It took him several mind-numbing seconds, but then he found it; a small white shape bobbing among the waves. It was a pony clinging to a doughnut-shaped life preserver, motionless. Gallus’s eyes widened behind his goggles as his fellows began signaling one another. He joined in, gesturing regularly to the preserver and the pony. The leader looked to Gallus, then to their third. At last, he pointed to her, and she promptly dove.

Gallus and his leader flew a jagged, struggling circle as she swept to within reach of the ferocious waves. He watched silently as she bobbed and weaved, working to carefully keep above the water and get in close to the pony in tandem.

It was a nightmare scenario. A single gust in the wrong direction. An unnoticed wave from her blind spot. Even the lightning temporarily blinding her. A single mistake would turn the rescuer into a rescuee. Gallus watched the scene, trying and failing to keep the tension out of his mind, repeating his trainer’s instructions in his mind. Eventually it would be his turn. When eventually came, he could not fail.

He had to fight his breathing again, resisting the urge to snap his beak every time she had to sharply rise or get crushed beneath a wave. Closer she flew. Closer. Closer. Bob. Weave. Dive, ascend, an unsteady and dangerous dance against the ever-changing landscape.

Abruptly, the griffon dove and came back up. She had the pony in her claws. Gallus would have cheered were he not still struggling against his own heaving breaths. He settled for a grim stare and concentrated on keeping his wings aligned against the microbursts. She rose up, pony cradled in her arms, and began feeling the equine’s neck. Then a leg. She pressed her head to the earth pony’s chest. Gallus and his flight leader watched in mute silence, ever circling.

She looked up to them. Shook her head.

A fierce hiss escaped Gallus’s clenched beak. The flight leader hung his head, but made a cutting motion with a claw. Their third hesitated, looking down at the pony hanging limply in her grasp. Her hold got a little tighter. She didn’t look up. Gallus saw the wave coming at the same time as his flight leader. They cried out, waving their arms and pointing. “Gihanna,” he screamed against the screaming winds and snarling seas. “Ascend! Gihanna!”

She looked up at them a second too late. Within an instant, both griffon and pony disappeared within the black wall.

No communication was necessary; the two remaining griffons broke formation and flew lower. Gallus scoured the black waves, wings aching, curses on his beak. Angry rain pounded him from above, while droplets stirred by the cutting wind from below spat on his face. He was within a valley, then riding a peak. As he ascended above a rise, he spotted his leader diving for a shape in the water. He moved to intercept. There was their third, clinging to the life preserver herself and trying to reach for them. Of the pony there was no sign.

A gust pressed against Gallus, preventing him from making any headway. It was all he could do to stay above the water. Cursing again under his breath, he beat his wings hard and overcame the vicious wind, ascending to safer heights. He tried to reposition, searching for a place where the storm wouldn’t battle him, and watched as his leader made another attempt to save Gihanna. He failed, forced to rise as a wave crashed down, the wall of water burying their companion. Gallus gasped, eyes scouring the seas frantically. For precious seconds, all he saw was white foam on the black.

Gihanna rose again with a muted splash. Her beak worked, and though the storm blocked all sound Gallus swore he could hear her gagging. The wind favored him. He was ready for a dive of his own. He angled his wings, turning with the wind, feeling the ache in his bones.

The squadron leader got there before he could really start, catching the hen’s outstretched claw as she crested a wave. His wings beat in fast, powerful strokes that didn’t allow him to fly any higher, but when the wave moved on she was out of the water. Without the sucking pull of the wave to drag them down, he managed to carry her higher.

Gallus aborted his dive and moved in. He had to weave and bob and sway, the gales changing directions as if guided by Discord himself. As he fought on, Gallus spotted the nearby life preserver about to reach the top of a wave. He turned a sharp eye to it and caught sight of the name on the white shape. A wave of relief passed through him… followed promptly by one of guilt.

He finally met with the others, grasping one of the hen’s talons and helping to pull her higher. Higher, higher, into the clouds, where there was nothing but darkness and wind and moisture and the sound of his heavy breathing in his ears. Gihanna held tight to his talons, almost painfully so. Every sucked in breath was more and more difficult.

They broke cloud cover, and suddenly all was calm. The sun shone brightly above them, the sky a pristine blue and the clouds swirling almost silent beneath them in a seemingly endless plain.

Gallus reached into a pocket of his flightsuit and pulled out a mask connected to a tube. He pressed it to his beak and took a few gulps of stale air. Only then did he look to his companions.

The waterlogged hen’s wing hung limp at an angle that made his intestines squirm. He could feel the ache in his bones. He pressed his own oxygen mask to her beak and looked to their squadron leader. “Groan?”

Groan sucked a few breaths from his own mask as he nodded. Lowering it, he said, “I saw you looking at the life preserver. You get the ship name?”

Gallus nodded stiffly, pulling his mask from Gihanna’s beak when she nodded against it. “The Siren's Chorus.”

“Not the hippogriff ship then. That’s… not good, but…”

“I get it.”

Gihanna tossed her head in an effort to get her crest feathers out of her face. Her expression was a mask of pain. “I’m sorry, guys. I should have stayed focused.”

“It’s alright, Gihanna. Let’s get you to land.”

Gallus shook his head. “The mission comes first. I’m staying out here.”

Groan’s head reared back. “You’re what? No, that’s too dangerous!”

Yes. Yes, it was. “With all do respect, I can make my own decisions.”

“I’m flight leader!”

“We’re equal rank, so you don’t technically command me.”

Gihanna peered up at him with pained eyes. “Gallus, you don’t need to be a hero.”

They didn’t understand. They couldn’t, and he didn’t have time to explain. Groan was a strong flier, more than able to carry Gihanna by himself. Gallus didn’t have to think about his decision. “I don’t want to be a hero, but on a day like today? Someone’s got to be.” He made sure Groan had Gihanna’s weight before letting her go and turning his back on them.

Groan let out an angry screech. “Damn it, boy, you can’t take on this storm by yourself!”

The still-rising sun to his right shoulder, Gallus darted away. “Watch me!”

He ignored Groan’s curses, beak set and eyes forward. Beneath him, the storm spread into infinity. “I’m coming,” he whispered. “Just stay alive, and I’ll be there.

“Just like I promised.”

“You want to go to the land of the Stormcallers?”

Gallus nodded to Commander Gale, who held his transfer request in her claws. “Yes, sir.”

She dropped the form on her desk, a ratty thing that looked as if it would collapse if she so much as leaned on it. The fact that one of the legs had been replaced by a stack of reports didn’t help its chances. It reflected not just her office, but the entire town – city state, he reminded himself – of Griffonstone. “They haven’t even finished building the embassy yet.” Then, under her breath, “Don’t even know why we need one.” Then, more directly, “What in Grover’s name would you want to go there for?”

“Somegrif has to.” His voice was calm and professional, aside from a slight strain. “It would be an insult to King Kyoufuu if we didn’t send a proper guard, and I think I’m well-equipped for the job.”

“You mean as a ‘friendship graduate’.” Commander Gale practically spat the phrase. “You think getting handed a diploma by some fancy pony princess makes you qualified, huh?”

The lips around Gallus beak twitched, but he managed to keep his expression stoic. “For not making Griffonstone look stupid? Absolutely.”

His commander glared at him, but said nothing for some time. Her talons drummed the desk. “Fair point, I guess. Even if it’s the ambassador’s job to represent Griffonstone.”

“Not to speak out of line, sir,” Gallus answered with barely restrained annoyance, “but it should be the responsibility of every griffon who goes to the Eastern Isles, especially on official business, which the Aerial Guard of the embassy there would be.” He reached up to pat the two bands on his shoulder. “I’m qualified, sir, and you know it.”

“Don’t talk to me about qualifications, Lieutenant!” Commander Gale jabbed a talon at him. “This is about whatever’s had your dander raised these last few weeks. You’re running away from something.”

It was a minor miracle that Gallus didn’t flinch. The ice gripping his heart grew a little tighter. Or perhaps that was his increasing pulse pounding against its cage. His tail lashed a couple times before he managed to stop it. “My personal life is no concern of yours, Commander. I’m qualified, I know you’re low on volunteers, and I want to go. This really should be an easy decision for you.”

“Don’t backtalk me, kid,” she hissed dangerously, “unless you want me to kick your flank off this mountain. The Aerial Guard may be less than a year old, and we’re still not used to the whole ‘discipline’ thing, but we can at least respect the chain of command.” She held his glare, seemingly waiting for him to speak. He did not, though his feathers were now raised and bristling.

Eventually, the older griffon grumbled under her breath and sat back down. “Seagull droppings! Worst part about all this is you're right, I am low on volunteers. Most griffons don’t see the point of joining some untested defense force when the town is barely what you might call ‘unified’, and they couldn’t care less that some high and mighty king is going to visit us in some ‘world tour’, whatever the eggshell that means. You’re supposed to be here to help change their minds, and now you want to go gallivanting off to some embassy in Bumblebuck, Nowhere.”

Gallus’s feathers relaxed with his posture. His tone took on a more conciliatory nature. “Well, maybe a bit of cultural exchange will—”

“Oh, stop it,” the commander groused. “You’ll get your stupid transfer. At least that way I won’t have to listen to your pony-rotting ‘friendship talks’ every Thursday. Now get out and let me do the molting paperwork in peace.”

With a quick salute and a “Thank you, sir,” he did as ordered and left the office. He wondered if he was supposed to be happy with this.

All he felt was empty.

The skies were deceptively calm above the storms, disguising the monster below. Gallus held a folding map made of strong wood in his talons. It showed a series of islands arranged in a long, narrow curve. Blue lines were drawn over the ocean, swirling things that all pointed either to or from the islands. Trade lanes. He peered at them, brow knit and tail lashing in the wind. His eyes traced the marks for the latitude and longitude, the coastlines, the landmarks.

Then he took in the endless clouds swirling below.

His breath came out in a faint hiss. “Useless.” He wasn’t even sure why he’d bothered. The map snapped closed and disappeared in a pouch under his breast.

Piercing the clouds again, Gallus was immediately battered by winds he had only heard of in stories. Tall tales, boasts from a certain loyalty teacher, and the occasional puffed up lies of fellow fliers (which may or may not have included the aforementioned teacher). Winds of myth and legend slapped at him, the hands of mother nature herself trying to swat him like a fly. He fought back, wings beating, feathers tasting the angry air for clues of where the next attack would come. With all his skills working at their limits, he burst through the clouds and into the depths of the maelstrom.

Gallus flew on, over crashing seas and tumultuous gales. Rain sliced through the skies and chilled his very bones. His enchanted goggles allowed his eagle eyes to pierce the darkness, yet it still seemed as if he were flying through the noisy, tempestuous maw of the legendary Arabus himself.

Seconds. Minutes. Hours? It was impossible to say. Every wingbeat ached worse than the last. Every breath grew a little more strained. But he held his calm, slow and steady breathing, easing a heart that wanted to tear itself from his ribcage. Time went on, just as the waves and the winds and the lightning forged chaos all around.

Something in the corner of his eye! His head snapped to the side, his wings stinging from the sharpness of his turn. Even as the wind threatened to send him sprawling, his sharp gaze didn’t leave the object. A lifeboat, upside down in the water.

He dove between the great waves, fast enough that the rain seemed to hold still at his sides. Pulling up, riding the winds, he tried to glimpse the name on the lifeboat as he passed. It eluded him. He rose, skimming the crest of a wave, and began to bank for another pass. As he did he spotted more signs of a ship, mostly in the form of debris. He gained elevation, eyes darting from object to object, looking for any sign of movement. “Come on,” his muttered, barely able to hear his own voice. “Where are you?”

“Hail, Griffonstone!”

The words were barely audible over the cacophony. Gallus looked to his right, where a squadron of three pegasi in orange flightsuits were banking in to come alongside him. He raised a talon in greeting, focus going back to the water even as he kept them in his peripheral vision. He cried out as they got closer, having to practically scream over the gusts at his back. “Hail, Equestria! Any luck?”

The squadron leader flew closer, though they kept a safe distance from one another in case of any gusts. “Stormcaller fishing ship! We already got most out!”

Gallus nodded, expression grim. “Any word on the king?”

“Not that we’ve heard!” The pegasus leader twisted in the air as the wind shifted, fighting to keep steady as Gallus flapped hard to stay on course. Once the chaotic winds died down, the pegasus cried, “Where’s your squadron?”

“One injured,” he called back. “Other bringing her back to mainland!”

The goggles were not enough to hide the shocked look on the stallion’s face. “You shouldn’t be out here alone!”

“I know!”

“Want to join us?”

Lightning crackled overhead, prompting Gallus to shield his eyes with an arm. He looked up to find the pegasus leader had been thrown slightly off course. He adjusted his own, demanding the wind help instead of hinder his progress. “No. The more squadrons we have searching, the better!”

Ponies had such expressive faces. Even in the darkness and rain, his incredulity and worry were apparent. “You go down out here and you’re the one who will need rescue!”

If he went down out here, Gallus was as good as dead. “I know!” He tried turning. The storm barred his way, the winds pressing back like a solid wall. He changed to a counterclockwise circle, moving with the gusts. “I’m headed north!”

The pegasus leader moved to fly a little over him and to his right, matching his course. His two companions kept their distance and followed. “You can take one of my wingmates! It’ll be safer.”

Gallus looked back at the pegasi. They were small, as was normal for their tribe. Too small; if he went down, there was nothing they’d be able to do. He grimaced at the thought; a partner would have been nice. “I think they’ll be better off with you!”

By the look on the stallion’s face, he knew exactly what Gallus was thinking. “Fine,” he shouted in a tone that clarified it was not fine at all. “We’re out of detectors. Can you spare us any?”

Gallus grimaced, but reached into a pouch on his left shoulder. His talon felt what was within, finding four solid objects. He pulled out three and raised them high. They were square-cut emeralds, their color impossible to determine in the darkness even with his goggles. “Take them!”

“Thanks! Be safe!” The pegasus swooped past, snatching the gems from him with deft precision. A few seconds later and the squadron was headed south, one of the pegasi throwing him a wave before they disappeared into the downpour and gloom.

Gallus didn’t wave back. He finished his turn, now facing north, and resumed his scan of the wet mountains below. Another streak of lightning revealed his grim, determined glare.

Gallus was pulled from his musings by the heavy clack-clacking of a cane. His eyes left the vast frescoes and stained glass that made up the walls and ceiling of the royal palace’s Walk of Winds. They landed upon a tall, hunched figure, a wizened stormcaller in a pale purple robe. Her gray mane hung in long braids over her shoulders, nearly touching the floor. She leaned heavily on a long silver cane, at the head of which was a male stormcaller’s face, his eyes filled in with sapphires and a large, glittering amber between the fangs of his wide-open mouth.

Though she wore no crown, the cane was more than enough of an identifier, and Gallus promptly dropped into a low bow. What is she doing here? And without any escorts! When he’d told Commander Gale that the embassy guard would have to represent Griffonstone, he’d not been expecting it to be quite this literal.

Her aged voice bore a distinct grandmotherly quality, a tonal soothing that encouraged warmth and openness. “No, no, chisai aoi tori. Do rise. I’m not out tonight on any official duties.” As he did as told, she added, “Seeing as you are not in your armor, I assume the same is true for you.”

Gallus shuffled from side to side, eyes flitting to anything that wasn’t her gaze. His brain scrambled to find the proper words. “Your eminence, I am humbled by your presence.”

“So formal.” Empress Hikaemena Kokyū chuckled, her Equish accent lighter than one might expect from a stormcaller who had never left her home country. “They taught you well at that new princess’s school. A pity that my son Taifu could not have gone. Perhaps he would be among us today.”

The griffon’s beak opened, closed again. How does one speak of a villain to said villain’s own mother? He finally met the empress’s yellow-eyed gaze, expression uncertain and pleading. She offered him a warm, yet sad smile and waved a hand dismissively. The appendage was thin, with long, supple fingers. “It is quite alright. Taifu’s fate was karma. His little brother Kyoufuu will serve the Stormlands better, I am certain.”

At last, Gallus found his words. “I understand the princesses back home were happy for his visit.” His beak snapped shut promptly as he looked away.

Kokyū hummed, cocking her head at him. When he failed to meet her gaze once more, she turned to look up at the ceiling. It was a barrel vault design, flanked by grand, multi-story windows. The frescoes were divided into sections, fourteen of them. There, an ancient warlord who united the six main islands of the Empire through both bloodshed and diplomacy. That one, depicting the ancient stormcallers forging the Toufuu no Ishi, or “Stone of Eastern Winds”, and beating back the eternal storms that once perpetually covered all the islands.

Directly above Gallus and Kokyū was a fresco depicting the first six kings and queens of the Empire bowing to the first emperor, the now-legendary stone set in his crown. The two of them studied it in the flickering torchlight, the griffon fidgeting and the empress perfectly still. Somewhere beyond the stone walls and stained glass came a quiet coughing that echoed through the empty room, bouncing across the stones in a quiet chorus. Ah, thought Gallus. So the guards are around after all.

“Tell me, chisai aoi tori,” the empress calmly asked, not looking at her jumpy companion. “Is it by coincidence that I stumbled upon you beneath this particular mural?”

Gallus swallowed, sucking down a few slow breaths. He bought time by examining the mural again, his attention centering on the depiction of the six figures, and rediscovered his voice. “I like it. It reminds me of… home.”

“Griffonstone?”

“No,” he replied, a certain reverence filling his voice. “Equestria.”

“Ah.” The cane tapped a couple times on the hard marble floor. “So desu ne. Then I suppose I should apologize to you for my son’s behavior.”

He looked at her now, feeling as forlorn as her tone. “If I understand things correctly, the Storm King’s invasion wasn’t your fault.”

“Was it not?” A look of sincere discomfort flashed across her face, clearly visible though her eyes remained upon the ceiling. “As empress, I could have stopped Taifu. It was well within my power. But I chose not to stand in his way. Does that not make it my fault?”

Gallus stared at her, wings stiff against his sides, eyes searching. “May I ask…?”

“Why?” She met his gaze at last. Her long fingers rubbed the head of the stormcaller atop her cane. “I had a vision. A storm raging across the lands and seas, crushing all that came before it, until a beacon of light calmed the typhoon and spread peace and calm as far as the eye could see. When Taifu declared his intent to expand the territories of the Storm Kingdom and, thus, the Empire, I did nothing because I believed that he was fulfilling my vision. I did not like his methods, but I learned long ago not to challenge karma.” Her gaze went to one of the stained glass windows, which depicted the Stone of Eastern Winds amidst a raging storm. “Bless my boy, Kyoufuu. Perhaps all has come to pass, and he is the source of the calm after the storm just as much as your twilight princess.”

Gallus hesitated, but then smiled. “From the letters I received from home, he seems like a far better Storm King than…” He cringed. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to celebrate your loss.”

“And why shouldn’t you, chisai aoi tori?” she asked with a dismissive wave. “Taifu was always difficult. What is the griffon phrase? A bad egg?”

“I-if you say so, ma’am,” Gallus deferentially answered, bowing his head. “I’m still sorry you had to lose a son over it.”

She hummed – an act of habit, perhaps – and said nothing for a time. Gallus didn’t depart. He wasn’t sure he could. Didn’t stormcaller custom require he be dismissed first? That was what he recalled, and so he remained by the empress’s side and continued to study the great arched ceiling above them. In an effort to ease his nerves, he tried to imagine this as no different from having a friendly conversation with Princess Twilight.

How funny. He, a simple griffon, able to hold a casual conversation with a princess and yet more anxious than a chick on his first flight around the empress. Yet it was different; if he made a mistake around Twilight, he knew she’d forgive him. He didn’t know Empress Kokyū, couldn’t be sure that a faux pas here wouldn’t spell bad things for Equestria and Griffonstone. Again, he wondered what she was doing, wandering about at this time of night. Then again, she might be wondering the same about him.

His attention drifted until it reached the stained glass window depicting Himiko, once-queen of the Isle of Cherry Blossoms, as she calmed the mighty three-legged crow Yatagarasu with naught but her charm. The princess depicted was a light pink, her face one of calm, tranquil affection, her long fingers caressing the bird’s wings with a delicate touch.

Gallus saw that princess and his heart stabbed his chest.

Empress Kokyū’s voice seemed to come from far away. “I have a question for you, chisai aoi tori.”

He blinked up at her, the words bouncing through his skull for several seconds before they struck the right neuron for a semi-intelligent response. “A question, your eminence?”

“Indeed.” She rested both her hands atop her cane as she peered at him. “Why would a loyal son of Equestria join Griffonstone’s Aerial Guard, and then volunteer to guard Griffonstone’s embassy in the Eastern Isles?”

This, at least, was an easy question to answer. Indeed, in thinking about it he found all his anxiousness fleeing, for he did have a legitimate reason. Perhaps not the primary one, but it was a worthwhile reason nonetheless, and one he should have been thinking of throughout this conversation. He faced her properly, head raised high and shoulders stiff, a textbook ‘at attention’ posture for a griffon soldier. “Because I am especially trained in diplomacy, your eminence, and believe my time is best served aiding peaceful ties between nations.”

Another of those long, quiet hums. Empress Kokyū peered into his eyes, and this time he did not avert his gaze. When next she spoke, it was with a calm patience, and her voice did not echo in the vast chamber. “I see pain in those eyes. A long, private sadness. You are here for more reasons than duty.”

Gallus’s crest fell flat atop his head, eyes wide. The sure firmness of his stance was toppled by shivers. “Did… Did you just…?”

“Īe,” she answered kindly, reaching down to pat his shoulder. “No seer powers necessary, my little friend. I am merely old, and experienced in the fine art of reading another’s emotions.” She stood up straight, her bones audibly creaking as she stretched, and let out a long yawn. “Ah, but it is getting late. Walk an old yeti to her room, would you please?”

Eyebrows raised, he glanced around the great chamber. There was not another soul in sight. Carefully, he stepped to her side and allowed her to place a hand on his back, just between the wings. “You honor me with the opportunity, your eminence, but would not the Empress’s Own take offense?”

“Not if I tell them not to, chisai aoi tori.” She frowned as the two of them began to walk, Gallus staying slow to account for her shuffling stride. “Forgive me old habits. Chisai aoi tori is hardly a respectful title for a member of the Aerial Guard. May I have your name?”

He resisted the urge to admit that he didn’t know what the phrase meant. “It is Gallus, your eminence.”

“Gallus.” She nodded, cane clack-clacking along as they crossed the center of the chamber. “A fine name. Tell me, Gallus, was she pretty?”

The blue griffon stumbled, but somehow managed to keep from tripping the elderly royal at his side. His head turned away, preventing her from seeing his wide eyes. “P-pretty, your eminence?”

Empress Kokyū chuckled, a husky sound. “Yes. Pretty. The one whom Queen Himiko reminds you so strongly of. Your fairy tale girl.”

The feathers along his back bristled, shoulders hunching. They continued on, soon passing beyond the Walk of Winds and into a wide hallway. Marble floors became dark purple carpeting, the walls decorated with granite columns. Eventually, the words tipped perilously over the tip of Gallus’s tongue. “Yes. Very pretty.” Then, with a little force, “Do you always take midnight walks to chat up off duty guards?”

The chuckle came again, though there was patience underpinning the sound. “My, it appears I’ve struck a nerve.” When he said nothing, she quietly went on. “Ever since my son’s death, yes, I often take long midnight strolls. My regular guards have learned by now not to interrupt, though I know they’re hidden somewhere, watching. I need this time. To ponder. To reflect. To consider next steps.”

With her ever-calm words, the tension gradually left Gallus’s figure. He walked with caution, raising the talons of his claws so that they would not catch on the carpet. The empress leaned heavily onto him, favoring his strong back over her cane. He found he didn’t mind; her touch was strangely comforting. They were approaching a stairwell, which was flanked by two guards in the ceremonial garb of the Empress's Own.

Having sensed the unspoken invitation, Gallus curiously asked, “And what are the next steps?”

Empress Kokyū paused. He did the same, careful to not jostle her, and waited as she turned to stare back the way they’d come. Her gaze was uncertain. Lost, perhaps. “I had hoped… but I suppose that’s his karma. And my own.”

Gallus studied her face, concern overtaking his confusion. “Your eminence?”

She started, as if having forgotten he was there. Pulling her fingers from his back, she shifted to lean on her cane instead. Her next breath was long, heavy, and rattled with something unpleasantly strange. “One last thing, Gallus of Equestria and Griffonstone, pupil of princesses. The advice of this old bag of a royal, if you should deem it worth keeping. Stay true to your convictions, no matter what others say. Only you can decide what is right for you. As my son Taifu did. As my son Kyoufuu now does. As I did not, when Taifu chose his path. Do this, and your life will be satisfying.”

She did not wait for his confirmation. Turning, cane thumping against the carpet, she walked on without him. To the stairs, where one of the fastidiously dressed guards helped her ascend with a gentle hand to her elbow. The other guard, his face hidden by a silver mask that glinted in the faint torchlight, bowed to Gallus before following.

Gallus watched them go until they passed beyond sight, and stared for a while after as well. He placed a claw over his heart and heaved a sigh. “My convictions, huh?”

It was a stormcaller airship. Huge, imposing, but without any of the weapons that had made them so frightening during the war. The great blimp that had once held it aloft was now in tatters, and he could make out in the crashing waves a swarm of stormcallers rushing about trying to detach it before it swamped the ship-like bottom. The whole thing careened helplessly in the crashing waves, and even as he approached the ship went under briefly. It bobbed back to the surface, and despite his desperate scanning he could see no signs that any of the tall, ape-like creatures had been thrown overboard.

A white one, his fur making him stand out in the pounding rain and darkness, spotted him and waved. Gallus circled once, wings stinging from untold hours of constant flying, before he was able to find an angle with the wind that would let him land. He offered the soggy stormcaller a salute. “Lieutenant Gallus, Griffonstone Aerial Guard!”

“Gurifon?”, the stormcaller shouted, raising his big hand to his face to block the rain from his eyes. “Anata wa hitoridesu ka?”

Grimacing, raising a wing to block the rain himself, Gallus stepped closer. “Eigo?” The stormcaller shook his head, looking frustrated. His eyes were an icy blue, reflecting a terror that rose above language barriers. He rubbed at his chin, then said, “One. Eigo one.” Then pointed to the frothing waves.

The airship rocked as more ropes were cut from the balloon. Water slashed across the deck, failing to soak Gallus’s talons only due to them already being so. He flapped his wings, trying to maintain his balance as the stricken vessel lurched one way, then another. “This was one of the king’s escort ships, right? King? Ō! Ō fune?”

Shame flashed across the creature’s eyes. He reached out to place his hand on what had once been a support beam for the balloon’s superstructure, using it to keep from tumbling. Only now did Gallus notice the blood pouring from his shoulder. “Watashitachiha wakarete shimatta! Watashitachiha nagaiki dekimasen. Watashitachi o sukutte moraemasu ka?”

Gallus stared hopelessly at him, water dripping down his beak and pinions. His gaze drifted to the other stormcallers and their frantic cutting work. The ship was beginning to list heavily, and while it was hard to judge it looked like the whole thing was lower in the water than when Gallus had first seen it. He swallowed, talons drifting to the pouch on his shoulder.

A crack of lightning made the creature before him flinch. He was starting to lean himself, large padded feet gripping the wet wood as the ship bucked beneath them. Desperately, he tried again. “Hoka ni mo imasu ka? Ishi wa arimasu ka? Ishi?” Wiping a soaked arm across his face, he tried, “St… Stone? Stone! Stone wa arimasu ka? Wakarimasu ka?”

Gallus’s attention snapped back to the creature, eyes going wide. He backed away. “No. I’ve only one left. I need to save it for the king!”

The stormcaller’s brow furrowed. His teeth were bared. “Tasuketaidesu ka? Kureyo! Stone o kudasai!” He stepped forward, good arm raised, long fingers grasping.

“Nami! Nami ga sakida yo!”

The call was louder than the others, and the burly stormcaller’s head darted to the ocean behind Gallus. A moment later he was hugging the pillar beside him, teeth grit and eyes fierce. Gallus didn’t hesitate, snapping his wings wide and flying straight up. Above the crackling lightning and endless hiss of the rain came a mighty roar that shook his bones. Louder. Louder. Louder. He flapped as hard as his aching wings could stand and tried to push them even beyond that as the explosive cacophony overcame all other sounds! He could feel the air being displaced, pushed back by a tremendous force.

The great wave swept under his rear paws, the spray of salt water and displaced air making his tail flap wildly. When he looked down, he saw the towering mountain of water passing beneath like the movement of a great underwater beast beyond his wildest imaginings. It flowed smoothly on, crushing all other waves in its path. Of the airship there was no sign. Gallus hovered in place, wings twisting and shifting in an endless effort to maintain his position. The rumble of thunder sounded like deep, teasing laughter.

The great bow arose out of the back of the wave, water spilling over the sides in great streams. Soon the whole deck was visible again. The balloon was gone, the few lines that had still been connecting it to the ship snapped off by the force of the wave. Gallus let out a slow, ragged exhale at how few crew members were still on the vessel. The ship leaned precariously, much lower in the water now.

The stormcreature he’d been speaking to was still there, clinging tight to his pillar. He sputtered and spat out water. The moment he released the pillar he collapsed, but stumbled back to his feet on the ever-shifting deck. He looked up at Gallus and raised his hands up in supplication. “Tasukete! Ishi! Stone! Kureyo!”

Gallus swallowed, reaching one more to touch the pouch on his shoulder and the precious detector stone that lay within. He took in the ship, watching as the aft fell dangerously below the waves and barely rose back out.

Stay true to your convictions.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry!” He flapped his wings, gaining altitude, ascending into the black abyss of the typhoon’s violence.

“Īe!” The stormcaller shook his fists, eyes twisting with rage. “Wareware wa shinitsutsu aru! Kureyo! Tasukete! Tasukete!”

The voice was soon drowned out by the storm. Gallus flew onward, fighting to keep his eyes open as the water streaked down his face and blurred his vision. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry…”

Soon even that was drowned out by the chaotic cacophony of the storm. His wings flapped, inexorably, eternally. Through the pain and the weariness and the curses sailing circles around his skull, he flew.

“The Empress, Humble Breaths, is dead.”

Gallus stared at Ambassador Genuine. Just stared. His entire body was rigid. His fellows in the Aerial Guard murmured amongst themselves. Gihanna tried to ask, hadn’t he just spoken to her two nights ago? He could do nothing but nod, slowly, stiffly. It took a moment to remember to breathe.

Ambassador Genuine raised a claw, and the guards all went silent. “She died in her sleep, some time in the night. Doctors have already overruled foul play. She was old, and that’s all there is to it.

“But this presents a problem.” He snapped his talons, and a couple aids entered the room rolling a chalkboard that already had drawings on it. “This means the empress's only living child, Storm King Strong Wind, is now emperor. The issue is the Stone of Eastern Winds.” He grabbed a pointer rod and tapped an image of the royal crown, in which was inlaid a familiar jewel. “As some of you may or may not know, these islands were once completely covered in hurricanes year-round, much like the Crystal Empire is constantly under threat of blizzards. The magic in this stone is the only thing keeping those storms at bay.”

Groan, sitting a few spaces to Gallus’s right, spoke up. “But the empress is the one that keeps the magic going, right?”

Ambassador Genuine nodded grimly. “She was, yes. Now she’s not.”

“So can anyone use the stone?” asked somegrif behind Gallus.

With a heavy breath, the ambassador shook his head. “Only stormcallers of the royal bloodline can control the stone, and then only after undergoing a ritual. That means King Strong Wind is the only one who can do it, and he’s not here.” He turned his head slowly, taking in every griffon in the room with a stony stare. “The clouds are already encroaching. We’ve got less than two hours, then this entire island chain is going to be covered in storms so powerful not even the pegasi could dream of controlling them. It will be a disaster of legendary proportions.”

The room was still. Gallus didn’t turn his head to face the others. He only stared at the chalkboard, which showed the stormclouds encroaching on the Eastern Isles from all sides. He closed his eyes and saw the empress’s weary smile.

Gihanna, sitting to Gallus’s immediate left, spoke firmly. “Are we evacuating the embassy?”

“There’s no time, and nowhere to go,” the ambassador grimly replied. “But there is good news.” He slapped the chalkboard with his pointer, indicating a curving line drawn towards the islands. “King Strong Wind has been on his way home from Mount Aris for some time on a hippogriff ship called the Novo’s Blessing, which is also bearing Mt. Aris’s diplomatic party.” The fur on Gallus’s neck rose, his eyes going wide and his talons digging into the floor. “His ship was supposed to arrive in three days. If he gets home he can complete the ritual, transferring the stone’s power to him and putting an end to the disaster.

“The bad news is that his ship is arriving in home waters right when the storms are hitting.” He once again stared at the assembled two dozen griffons, eyes piercing and face grim. “These storms have been held in check for the past seven hundred years. There's only one ship in the entire stormcaller fleet capable of surviving them.”

Another guard raised his talon. “What happens if the king doesn’t make it back?”

“Then the storms will continue unabated,” Ambassador Genuine coolly answered. “Possibly forever. Every ship will be sunk. There will be no hope for evacuation. Every creature in the Eastern Isles will be stuck here, at the mercy of the storm.”

Gallus shook himself out of his stupor, eyes narrowing. “What are we doing about it?”

Ambassador Genuine pointed at him, as if to say ‘I’m glad you asked’, then addressed the whole room. “We’ve received a formal request from the kings and queens. This request is also going out to the Equestrians, the Changelings, and I hear they’ve even managed to wrangle a few kelpies that live in the nearby coastal waters. We’re being asked to send out fliers along the route the Novo’s Blessing is expected to come from on her way to the Eastern Isles. We find the ship, secure King Strong Winds, and signal the Coming Storm to come pick him up. It will deliver him safely back to the royal palace so that he can take possession of the Stone of Eastern Winds and end this disaster.”

Gihanna spoke up. “Wouldn’t it be easier to deliver the stone to the king instead of carrying him all the way back here?”

The ambassador shook his head. “The ritual must be performed at the palace. They’ve got a specific room designated for the purpose, and it must be performed with the aid of attendants specially trained in the task. The only alternative would be to bring those five attendants to the king.” He tapped the image of the crown. “Besides, there’s only one stone. If it gets lost, there is no hope. The storms are going to be brutal. It’s not worth the risk.”

He handed off the pointer to an aid and accepted in its place a small emerald, which he held up high so all could see it. “This is a detector stone. It is specifically designed to break into two pieces. When that happens, it will emit a magical signal that a matching stone can use to locate its partner. All searchers will be given some of these stones, to be distributed to any survivors they may find. This is how you'll let the Coming Storm know where the king is.”

Setting the stone aside, he walked so that he was standing dead center before the collected griffons. Shifting to an at-attention stance, he puffed up his breast. “This is a highly dangerous mission! Your one and only goal, to be completed at the cost of all others, is the safe retrieval of King Strong Winds. Without him, your efforts will be worthless. Nothing matters beyond saving the king. Nothing.

“This mission will be volunteer only. No creature will blame any of you if you back out now. Those of you who do accept will hold the lives of every creature in the Eastern Islands in your talons.

“Who among you will fly into the storm?”

Gallus stepped forward before the ambassador finished speaking.

Gallus flew. Though his wings felt like they might fall off. Though lifting his body felt like lifting Canter Mountain on his back. Though the endless scream of wind and crash of waves sent a migraine thrump-thump-thumping through his brain.

Gallus flew.

He almost missed the lifeboat, so tiny did it seem among the ever-shifting ocean landscape and the looming, moist darkness. Yet even with his eyes half-lidded from exhaustion, he was able to detect the shape against the white seafoam. What’s more, he saw something within. People.

Shaking out of his long stupor of flight and scouring, he ignored the fiery pain of his wings’ joints and descended, trying to keep a particularly large wave between himself and the worst of the winds. As he closed in he saw there were more than just stormcallers in the boat; something churned in the waters around it. One of these things breached, and his heart raced to realize it was a hippogriff in seapony form.

The stormcallers saw his approach and thoughtfully made room for him to land. The impact was harsh, and with the boat rising on the wave he nearly toppled into one of the creatures. They held him steady, helped him sit, muttering quietly amongst themselves. The boat shook violently as it began to descend into another valley, and Gallu’s ears caught the sound of someone retching.

“Gallus? Gallus! Is that you?”

His heart was fired from a party cannon directly into his throat. Gallus spun to the side of the boat and saw a familiar blue mane hanging soaked over a pale pink face with pretty violet eyes that speared his soul. Unbidden and unheard by all but himself came the faint words from his own beak, “Fairy tale girl…”

Silverstream struggled to swim alongside the boat, carefully keeping her distance. She appeared weary and worried, but bore a relieved smile. She shouted above the storm and waves and wind, and even so he could barely hear her. “Why do you look so surprised? Did you forget I was part of the Mount Aris embassy staff?”

No. No he hadn’t forgotten. Not for one second. Not for one blink.

Her words knocked sense back into his brain. He promptly leaned against the side of the boat, trying to get a good look at her. “Are you okay? Why aren’t you in the boat?”

The hippogriff’s beak moved in what had to have been a laugh, though it was too quiet for him to hear. She raised a forehoof, revealing it to be a fin. “Did you forget that too, silly goose?” More seriously, she declared, “I’m fine. The hippogriffs are all fine! We’re trying to keep the stormcallers from capsizing in these waves, but it’s not easy.” A whistle sounded over the storm, and she abruptly rammed the lifeboat, holding it steady as a wave slammed into the opposite side. It had come so suddenly that Gallus tumbled backwards, kept from falling overboard only by the hefty forms of the creatures around him. When it passed, he stood on wobbling legs, wiping his crest from his face. Three other hippogriffs were now helping Silverstream steady the boat.

Gallus pointlessly shook water from his feathers, then reached for his shoulder. “I’ve got one more detector stone! I can give it to you guys.”

“No!” Silverstream raised a fin over the side of the boat to touch his leg. The contact sent a wave of heat across his entire body and almost made him gasp. “That’s for the king, right? Our ship went down not twenty minutes ago! He’s nearby, Gallus. Find him, get him home! That’s what you’re really out here for, isn’t it?”

He held the stone in his talon. Such a fragile thing. It would only take a hard squeeze. He stared at it. Stared at her.

Something about his expression brought a new emotion to her gaze: pity. It was a look that froze the world. The waves lost their import. The rain became as nothing. The darkness retreated before the sorrow within those perfect eyes. Gallus’s talon trembled, the stone reflecting his own lost, pleading face.

Silverstream leaped out of the water. Transforming midair, she landed clumsily in the boat next to him. The stormcallers surrounding them grumbled, but offered no greater argument as they made room.

Still with that pitying smile, Silverstream took his stone-gripping talon in her own. She leaned close, her presence sending tingles down his spine, and spoke just loud enough to be heard over the noise. “Gallus, thank you. But you know this is not for me. You have someone more important who needs you.”

He swallowed, shivering as her closeness became an embrace. He wanted to hold her, but he couldn’t bring himself to. “Gonna break my heart one more time?” He tried to make is sound like a joke. Instead it came out piteous.

She nuzzled his cheek. “I wouldn’t have to if you’d stop giving me these opportunities.”

The boat rocked, water splashing over them both. Gallus finally found the nerve to grab her, but it was only to stop her from falling as their dangerously tiny vessel crashed over another rise. Once they were settled he pulled back and displayed the stone between them. “I can get you out of here!”

She pushed it back to his breast. “Gallus, I’ll be fine! I can live underwater. Swimming back to shore will be easy.” Her feathery ears abruptly perked, an idea apparent in her brilliant eyes. “Wait, I know how to find the king! You wait right here.” She turned away—

He caught her shoulder. “Wait! Silver, please, you don’t have to put yourself in danger like this!”

She shot him a wry look. “Stop being silly, Gallus. Don’t you know I crave adventure?” And then she was overboard, transforming back into her seapony body right before disappearing with a splash that barely registered amidst the howling wind and roaring ocean.

Gallus sputtered, gaped. His wings flexed painfully, but he closed them as soon as they bumped against a nearby stormcaller. The detector stone remained in his palm. He considered it, talon squeezing and relaxing again and again. His heart ached with the desire. Uttering a curse under his breath, grateful for the rain on his face, he stuffed the stone back in his shoulder pouch. Heavily, he slumped back down and waited, burning eyes scanned the churning waves.

It was not a short wait. Or perhaps it was. It was hard to say, what with the mountains of water hurdling the boat this way and that, the ever-pounding downpour, and the wind rattling the bones of every creature on the boat. Hippogriffs worked together constantly to keep the small vessel as steady as they could, one or two occasionally appearing from the depths to replace their flagging comrades. The swimmers bore determined faces, but no amount of determination could disguise their growing fatigue. The stormcallers remained huddled low, holding each other for balance and protection from the elements. Their expressions were grim, not yet defeated but not particularly hopeful either.

Gallus kept watch over the water, even as his eyelids became weighted. His muscles begged him to relax, to lay down fully, to accept that his work was done. He tapped a talon against the back of the opposing claw, pressing hard enough for it to hurt, letting the pain steel his focus.

Abruptly, Silverstream breached the surface a few feet away. Not a second later, a much larger creature appeared, following behind and acting as a break against the worst of the wind and waves. Gallus’s head rose, open-mouthed as he took in for the first time what could only be a kelpie. The green giant had to be at least the equal in size of Princess Celestia, maybe even bigger!

Silverstream didn’t get back on the boat, instead replacing the hippogriff closest to Gallus. She offered him a worn grin. “Gallus, this is Fugue. He knows where King Kyoufuu is.”

Fugue’s alto voice rose well above the crashing noise of the storm, clear and musical and commanding. “Come, griffon! Follow, and we shall see to the king’s safety.”

Gallus was alert in an instant, but he hesitated to take off. He looked down at the beautiful sea creature staring up at him. “Silver, I…”

She grinned up at him even as a wave smashed against the side of the lifeboat, forcing her to strain and prevent its capsizing. “I know, you silly bluebird! I’ll be alright. Now go do your job!”

Tell me, Gallus, was she pretty?

Yes. Very pretty.

He smiled back, glad yet again that his cheeks were already wet. “Alright. Be safe.”

“Come, griffon! These storms wait for none!”

With one last, longing look at his former classmate, he lifted off. Fugue turned on a dime and swam fast through the chaotic ocean. Gallus’s wings burned in rejection, but the rest had done them good. Though the gale fought him with every flap, he kept up.

Everything hurt, and the king was so far away. Some voice deep within declared that it really wasn’t that far at all, but the fire coursing through his wing’s joints and the watery, weary heft of his own body drowned the claim out. Lightning crackled overhead, giving him his first glimpse of a lifeboat cresting, tipping, shaking atop a mighty wave. It rocked forward, front extended well beyond the water’s collapsing surface. It swayed in the air for a blink, then crashed hard against the back of the wave. Two hippogriffs slammed against it from the front with enough force that Gallus could feel the impact in his bones. Together they kept the bow of the small vessel from sinking too deeply.

Fugue led Gallus directly to the boat, lending his own considerable heft to the efforts of keeping the vessel steady in the howling gail. The storm creatures within picked themselves up on wobbly legs, settling back into the seats and floor. One in particular was cushioned amongst them, the others working to keep him steady and safe. Gallus’s hawk eyes met his across the darkness, and he saw within the creature a dawning hope. At his shouted order, the others made room for the griffon.

It took Gallus several minutes of fighting the wind and the unsteady motions of the vessel before he was able to land. He stumbled on legs far weaker than he’d anticipated, and he swore his wings made strange cracking sounds as he folded them slowly, tenderly to his sides. Heavy pants were accentuated by the rainwater pouring down his beak, the droplets wavering with his breaths.

The stormcallers stared at him in complete silence. Their eyes sparkled clearly in the dark, even through the pouring rain.

At last, Gallus found his voice. He only had one thing to say. “Kyoufuu-sama?”

The boat rocked as a great wave came. Everyone within tipped and struggled. Those nearest worked to keep the stormcaller before Gallus standing.

The moment the hippogriffs and kelpie had things steady, the stormcaller spoke in only slightly accented Equish. “Yes, noble griffon. I am King Kyoufuu, the one you call Strong Wind, brother of Taifu.”

His voice was strong, but anxious. Gallus believed him wholly, not least because of the clear resemblance. King Kyoufuu was smaller than the previous Storm King, and he wore no crown – lost, perhaps, in the storm – but the face…

He had his mother’s yellow eyes.

Gallus stiffly reached into the pouch on his shoulder. Never breaking eye contact with the king, he pulled out the detector stone and easily snapped it in two. The emerald briefly flashed a bright green. Even when that passed, the two stones continued to emit a faint glow.

He offered one half to the king. “Help is on the way.”

King Kyoufuu, the current Storm King and soon-to-be Emperor of the Eastern Isles, took the stone from him and stuffed it into his vest. “You have my thanks, griffon. Might I—” The boat shook with another powerful wave. Everyone rocked, but managed to remain in place. “What is your name?” he asked as soon as it passed, as though there’d been no interruption at all.

Gallus saluted, though his arm felt like lead. “Gallus Freewind of the Aerial Guard, Your Eminence.”

“Not ‘eminence’ yet,” Kyoufuu remarked with a sad smile. “The Eastern Isles will honor your name for a thousand generations, Gallus Freewind.”

Gallus smiled back. It couldn’t have been a pleasant one. There wasn’t a single part of him that felt ‘pleasant’. “With all due respect, sir, I think right now I’ll settle for a nap.”

King Kyoufuu laughed, a nervous sound that struggled to beat out the howling winds. “Then do so, if you can! It’s not like we have anything better to do right now.” He called orders to his fellow stormcreatures, who promptly guided Gallus to the center of the boat and let him sit behind their leader. One of them, garbed in the soaked and torn uniform of an officer, accepted the other half of the glowing detector stone for safe keeping.

As he lay on his belly, Gallus was reminded that everything hurt. His wings hurt. His legs hurt. His back and his neck and his head hurt. Even his tail stung as if it had been dragging a house behind him all this time. His body was screaming at him to rest, to give in. And why not? His task was done, and there was nothing left but to wait for reinforcements that would already be moving in on their location.

He did not. He held his head high and looked out to the ocean, peering in the dark and wet air. He sought out another lifeboat, one his subconscious mind knew wasn’t too far away. Yet with the waves towering overhead, the water splashing from the hippogriffs and kelpie fighting the force of nature, and the boat’s endless rocking, he might as well be a whole world away. There was no sign of Silverstream or her charge. That didn’t dissuade him from staring. He considered, for a moment, going out to find her again.

His body protested. For once, he listened.

No matter how many times he found her, he knew she’d always slip between his talons.

Pain brought Gallus back to the land of the waking. This was alarming; he didn’t remember falling asleep.

The pain was all-encompassing. His legs, his wings, his back, his skull, his chest, even his tail. The time it took him to merely open his eyes felt like an eternity. What they’d first mistaken for blindly bright light was in fact merely the dim red glow of a night lamp in the corner of a room otherwise shrouded in darkness. He lay in a medical bed in a cramped private room. His flight suit and pack were gone, his body bare save for a small number of bandages. When he first noticed the gauze wrapped about his arm, he could only be perplexed. He didn’t recall any cuts or similar wounds from…

He could still hear the storm. Or the echo of one? His body seemed to rock of its own accord, uncaring for the stillness of the room. His body was dry. It felt wet, and his wings burned with the desire to fight phantom winds. His breathing was heavy. Why was his breathing so heavy? His eyelids closed. For the barest instant, he saw pretty violet eyes. They turned away before he could properly look into them.

Gallus curled around himself beneath the covers and trembled. He didn’t know when he started crying. Or why.

The door to the room opened, and through it flew a small object. It landed on Gallus’s food tray, right between the toast and the orange juice. Blinking his surprise away, Gallus picked the small golden thing up. It was a medal sporting the Stone of Eastern Winds topped by a crown, two pairs of wings on either side.

“There you go, kid. Congrats.”

He looked up and gawked as a tall unicorn in white armor strode in. She barely fit in the room next to the bed. The armor was unexpected, but that broken horn was impossible to forget. “Commander Tempest? What are you—?” He clamped his beak shut the moment her presence fully registered to a mind slowed down by painkillers. That mind started to panic as it questioned whether or not he should be leaping out of bed to salute.

Something must have shown on his face, for the commander gave a husky chuckle. “At ease. I don’t think either of us are interested in making a big deal out of this.”

Panic subsiding, Gallus sagged back into his pillow, momentarily forgetting his breakfast. Once his breathing had slowed to a somewhat normal level, he sighed. “Thanks, no. I have questions, starting with what you’re doing here.”

Tempest raised an eyebrow. “Nopony told you?” At his blank look, she shrugged. “You’re on my ship, the Coming Storm. It’s pretty much the only thing that can function in the storms, so we were in the area waiting for the signal.”

“Right.” He sat back up, groaning at the soreness in his everything. “Didn't know this was your ship. Sometimes I forget that you’re still part of the Eastern Empire's military command structure.”

“It’s amazing how many people forget that, what with the whole invasion thing.” She sat idly at his side, her manner nonchalant. She gestured with a hoof to the medal still between his talons. “Winds of Fortune medal. Highest honor they can bestow on a foreign soldier. Emperor Kyoufuu’s first order after he stopped the storms.”

Should he be happy about this? He stared at the medal, trying muster up some level of pride. Yet all he could think of was that stormcaller on the doomed airship, calling out to him. Quietly, he asked, “What does ‘tasukete’ mean?”

Tempest’s gaze met his. Her face, usually so hard and controlled, was now soft with sympathy. “It means ‘help me’.”

She might as well have bucked him in the gut. The tears came before he knew the emotions were coming, and suddenly he was clutching the medal to his breast. “I couldn’t. Oh, Celestia, I c-couldn’t…”

The commander turned her face away, but her ears remained perked and facing him as he sobbed. He expected her to go, to leave him to his self-inflicted misery. But Tempest remained, waiting stoically for his shivers to diminish and his tears to cease. It didn’t seem like a short wait. Even when the crying was merely sniffles, she said nothing, letting the faint hum of the ship’s engines wash over the otherwise silent room.

“I almost gave it up, you know.” Gallus dropped the medal on his bedside table, metal striking wood in a dull clunk. “My best friend was on one of those ships. I almost gave my last detector stone to her. If she had let me, I…”

Tempest looked down at him. “We’ll find her.”

“I was being stupid,” he muttered with utmost disdain. “She’s a hippogriff. She’s fine. I know she’s fine. But even so, the storm was so… and I was so…” His wings stung as he wrapped them around his body so only his head poked out. “She’ll never be more than my friend, but I wanted to save her so much, I almost doomed the Eastern Isles over it. I’m such an idiot.”

“You’re not an idiot, Gallus Freewind,” Tempest retorted, though her tone was kind. “You’re just… normal. And besides, you did the right thing in the end.”

Gallus barked an unpleasant laugh. “Only because she made me.”

Tempest didn’t have anything to say about that. She considered him, but he only stared at the wall glumly. “You know,” she said after a few seconds of this, “the stormcallers have a word for this kind of thing. It’s ‘karma’.” When this failed to garner a reaction, she pressed on. “It’s kind of like fate, except it’s your own doing.”

Somehow, the words managed to penetrate into his brain. “So, what? ‘One good deed begets another’, or something?”

“Something like that,” she agreed with a nod. “The stormallers look at it from a lens of reincarnation, but I find it works well in the short term too. I did all sorts of bad things, and then bad things happened to me. Then I switched sides and started doing good things, and things are…” A beat, her smile wavering. “getting better. You just saved an entire civilization, so imagine the good you may be getting down the line.”

Gallus snorted. It sounded naive, but he wasn’t about to accuse Commander Tempest of something like that. Besides, his experiences in Equestria did lend some credence to the idea. It was almost enough to make him smile. But… “I might have saved the Eastern Isles, but those stormcallers I found out there are still dead. And—” He clamped his beak shut, suddenly seeing lovely violet eyes in the dark.

Tempest nudged him with a hoof. “Go on.”

He flinched, cheeks heating at the attention. Still, he forced the words out. “You ever wanted something so badly, even though you knew you could never have it?”

The commander’s expression grew stony. “Kid, do you even know who I am?” A tiny spark flicked around her broken horn.

He looked at the shattered appendage, then at her dour expression. “Did you ever get over it?”

She hesitated, expression softening once more. “Not really. I learned to cope. Sometimes that’s the best we can do.”

“I’ve been trying to,” he muttered. “That’s why I joined the Aerial Guard. It’s why I volunteered for the embassy.” He hunched low, shivering at the feelings of inadequacy tearing through him. “And she followed me here anyway. Not on purpose, I know. Is it my ‘karma’ to never stop wanting her?”

Tempest hummed in thought, staring down at his limp form. Her eyes slipped to his discarded medal. A smile, small but assured, came back to her. “Why don’t you join my crew?”

Gallus blinked. He sat up just so that he could cock his head at her. “You want me?”

“Can’t nopony say you don’t have guts,” she answered with a nudge of his medal. “I may technically be part of the Eastern Isle military, but I’m also now under joint jurisdiction with Equestria. I go all over the world getting things done.” She stepped away, unable to turn thanks to the small space, and backed out the door. “The world’s big, kid. That ghost can’t follow you everywhere, and it’ll look great on your resume.”

He felt the blood drain from his face. “Silverstream isn’t a ghost!”

“It was a metaphor, dumbass.” She paused, head still poking through the door and a smirk on her lips. “You’d be doing great things with us, and keep busy enough that the sting will wear off. Good for your career, good for your brain. Who knows, maybe when your tour of duty’s done you’ll get to be Twilight’s guard captain.”

Gallus snorted. “Right. As if that would ever happen.” Then, more soberly, “You really think it would be good for me?”

Tempest shrugged. “I don’t know, but I do think you’d be a good match for my crew.

“You ran halfway around the world trying to get over this girl. Might as well go the other half, right?”

The door closed, leaving him in the dim light of the medical room. His listened to the hum of the engines and stared at his talons. After a while, he picked up the medal and studied at it. The polished metal felt strangely heavy.

He wondered if he’d ever really earn it.

“Karma, eh?”

Author's Note

Did you know the Storm King was originally going to have the design of a wolf made of lightning and be called a raijū? Seriously, look up the original concept art, it's way cooler than what we got. At any rate, this fact inspired me to give the storm creatures the Japanese language and cultural style. To be clear: while I know a handful of words I am by no means able to speak or translate Japanese. Errors are almost guaranteed, and I welcome corrections.

When I first conceived this story it was going to star Flash Magnus seeking to find his place in the modern world through an act of near-suicidal heroism. It was only when I realized the concept would work for the Non-Pony Contest that I switched it to be about Gallus.

The Tempest Shadow cameo was an idea that came to me late in the game while trying to figure out how to finish the story. Still not confident about how that scene works in the overall, but given her history with the Eastern Empire it only felt appropriate to let her have a small part in the events.

Also: How is it FIMFiction still doesn't have a tag for the storm creatures?