Captain Winterlight sighed softly, sinking her head into her hoof as the caravan trundled toward the massive stone bridge spanning the Ghastly Gorge. It was a trifle encouraging to see the thing in much better repair than it had been toward the end of the Nightmare War. But then, a thousand years had passed and a great deal had changed in the world that she had left behind. New technologies, new social customs, new everything! The worst was the music though. Whatever happened to a good old fashioned bit of classical music? All this newfangled noise was headache inducing.

Still, at least the job hadn’t changed. She was still leading crazy amalgams of creatures doing boring but essential jobs for a terrifying commander. Twilight Shadow wasn’t quite as insane as Nightmare Moon had been, but she was infinitely more unpredictable. Nightmare Moon’s goals has been immutable and pretty easy to communicate. Eternal night, imprisonment of Celestia, establishment of her eternal rule, et cetera. Twilight, on the other hoof, had apparently very… flexible goals, most of which seemed to revolve around creating a total world unity.

The arrival of the Hippogriffs had been more than a shock to her. The fact was, ponies with taloned forelegs and hooved hindlegs, the bodies and wings of pegasi and only vaguely still griffonic features was… terrifying, even to her. They were utterly loyal to Twilight Shadow, much in the same way that all batponies were utterly loyal to Nightmare Moon, and they were ruthless fighters to boot. They would be very useful if that infernal group of ambushers decided to take a swipe at her.

That had been her frustration. She knew good guerilla tactics when she saw them, and whoever was leading these red-cloaked nutjobs was either an expert or getting advice from an expert. The worst was she couldn’t track them, and that smacked of deerfolk interference. Which of course, meant that damnable White Tail Wood was involved. A thousand years later, and the place was still a thorn in her side.

So she sighed and shifted her head to her other hoof, glaring down at the convoy with a steely look. Even if they did decide to hit her, it would be ultimately ineffective. She had more than sufficient troops this time to beat off any tiny raiding force; and far more importantly, she was now in direct command. No more panicking at the first surprise attack, no more running away. Winterlight was a veteran of a war that had claimed more lives than any of these wretched scum would ever see or know. There was something to be said of experience in war, and she had it in spades.

The wide bridge loomed large ahead, and she roused herself to a more alert stance. She didn’t anticipate any problems, but that didn’t mean there wouldn’t be any. This was the perfect spot for an ambush, and she knew it. Her scouts had reported nothing, but Winterlight never fully trusted scouting reports. Her guards were fortunately alert, so she didn’t have to beat the living snot out of any of them. Dash, Pinkie, and Ribbon were nowhere in sight, but that didn’t mean much. She didn’t expect much out of them in a straight up fight.

For ten long, agonizing minutes, she watched carefully as her caravan pulled out onto the bridge. Slowly and achingly, the massive wooden wagons bearing nearly a thousand gallons of shadow tainted cider found their way onto the bridge one by one. She had to admit, the idea was pretty brilliant. She’d tasted that cider unaltered, and it had been pretty damn good stuff even before Umbra had gotten a hold of it. She even had a little supply of unaltered stuff just for her.

At current speed, the wagons would first clear the bridge about twenty minutes after they had first started onto it. So she tapped the keg on the cart next to her and filled her ancient pewter mug. The sweet sip of apples was as fresh as a spring day and served as a reminder. She was not going to get another chance at things. Not with Umbra, nor with her Queen, nor with life. She was not getting any younger, the restorative magics of Nightmare Moon or not.

It was not normally her idiom to contemplate the world after the war, but she indulged in the thoughts for a moment. Once Umbra had seized the world, she would likely have no further need for force to exact her will. Winterlight would need to find a new place in the world, and she considered perhaps trading upon her loyal service for a nice pension. She could take a wealthy lover and spend the remainder of her days finally penning her memoirs.

Or perhaps, with her Queen restored to her rightful self, she would take service with the royal house. With good fortune, her Queen would permit her the duty of tormenting and breaking that infernal Sun Princess to her Queen’s will. She could take a great deal of pleasure in such duties. It was a cheering enough thought that she downed the remainder of her cider and did her best to put on a cheerful grin.

The world was shaping back into its rightful place. Perhaps she could find some means to pass the time while she waited for her wagon to cross the bridge… a thought which instantly came to a halt as an alarm whistle went up from the front of the caravan. Winterlight scowled and took to the wing, flying above the tall cider wagons and glaring down toward the end of the bridge where a single griffon stood.

He was powerfully built, even for a griffon, and he wore much filigreed armor that shone in the predawn light. His spear had been planted point first in the dirt and his bright red cloak billowed in a weak breeze. A second griffon joined him a moment later, wearing less elaborate armor but looking no less capable. He planted a pole in the dirt next to the first griffon, and Winterlight felt an icicle drive itself into her heart as three crimson red banners unfurled in the breeze.

A moment later, Rainbow Dash had joined her in the sky, crossing her hooves over her chest and scowling down toward the griffons. “What the buck is that banner?” she asked, her tone mildly annoyed and confused. “And just what are griffons in armor doing in Equestria?” She turned to regard Winterlight, her eyebrow arched arrogantly. It took a great deal of self control not to smack her right then, but she supposed Dash would have no reason to know those emblems. Not in this era of unprecedented peace with the griffons.

But Winterlight knew those banners. The banners which had thwarted her at Skandranon and halted her advance at Baltimare. The banners that had finally broken the siege at Stalliongrad, thus setting off the final events which would ultimately end the Nightmare War. She had faced those banners across countless other battlefields, and every single time their presence had signaled ill fortune to come. The banners of the finest warriors of Roam. The Golden Griffon of the Legion and the spears and helm of the Praetorian Guard… and worst of all, the rampant white pony upon the blue shield against a field of crimson red.

The unmistakable banner of the Crusading Knights of Canterlot.

“Nothing good for the Shadow, Captain Dash,” Winterlight spat out, turning on the spot. “Get the Shadowbolts in the air. We’re going to have a serious problem here.” Because where there was one griffon, there were unquestionably hundreds more. But that wasn’t the scariest thing. How had the Knights survived for one thousand years? How long had they been waiting in the wings? How long had they been preparing? Why hadn’t Twilight Shadow warned them about their existence? The very memory of row upon row of steel clad ponies, bearing their famous lances and laying down a thundering charge, was enough to send a surge of strength into her limbs...

She swung down to the cart, grabbing her steel talons and slipping them over her hooves. We are completely strung out and exposed. They could roll the entire column up in one charge, especially with Praetorians to act as the anvil. So why haven’t they done it? The answer came quickly, as she strapped the weapons tight to her hooves. They’re waiting for the real battle. Of course, this is who the raiders have been backed by. They’re keeping their main forces in hiding, waiting until Umbra takes the field herself. They’ve been trying to draw us out into a major confrontation… And like fools, we’re obliging them.

The talons secured, a shadowbolt appeared from nowhere and quickly strapped on the armored plates to her chest and body, her thoughts racing as she waited impatiently for the armor. So they’re going to demand we surrender, with some kind of trap force waiting behind us. They’ll hit us hard and try to use the narrowness of the bridge to keep us from retaliating. I should expect no less from the Crusaders. The straps tightened on her armor and, she grabbed the nameless Shadowbolt by his collar and growled. “Go to the rear of the convoy, get them moving backward right the fuck now. We need to get off this bridge before it becomes a death trap.” That order so given, she took to the wing and flew toward the head of the column.

There were still proprieties to be observed, even in this maddening age.

Scipio flexed his muscles beneath the heavy armor, watching as the column of wagons and soldiers milled about like a stirred up beehive. The feeling of watching these Shadow lackies so distressed by his appearance did his heart some good, even if the battle had yet to be joined. “Steady on, Gilda,” he murmured softly, eyeballing his sister with a faint smile. “I’m surprised you volunteered to carry the banners.”

GIlda glared at him from beneath her helm, then muttered softly. “I’m lookin’ for somepony.” Scipio blinked, but did not turn to stare in surprise. He needed to keep his eyes on the enemy, picking out as many of the unique figures that he could and trying to figure out numbers. “What?” she growled at him, her own eyes scanning through the crowd like he was.

The numbers were just as bad as he had figured they would be, if his guessing was right. “I didn’t say a thing,” he replied mildly, running the scenarios in his head quickly. Plenty of them are noncombatants, and that might be the deciding factor. Noncombatants got in the way as much as anything else, unless they all turned out to be militia fighters in disguise… but Scipio was pretty certain they were not, given a lack of obvious weapons.

“You didn’t have to, brother,” Gilda muttered again, glaring as the first signs of a coherent line formed up on the bridge. “Where is she…” she continued in a more wondering voice, now scanning the sky that had become thick with pegasi darting to and fro. Scipio coldly regarded them, wearing purple and black uniforms with golden lightning bolts. Obviously some kind of mockery of the Equestrian Special Air Unit. He snorted derisively. As though they could hold a candle to them.

Still, it gave him a chance to see what the aerial fight would be like, and the signs pointed to bloody and brutal… unless they were able to wholly take them by surprise. He had few hopes for that, but the plan was still proceeding well enough for his taste. The real proof would be once the specialists weighed in. Still, his position was excellent and his line of retreat was superb. It was an ambush Hawkwing could have been proud of. “Who are you looking for? Perhaps I can help.” It wouldn’t hurt to offer Gilda a talon of assistance. It was obvious she wanted to see if somepony she knew was here.

“Look for a rainbow mane. Fucking garish as hell and impossible to miss,” she said quietly, and Scipio felt his heart thump an extra beat. Something about the way she said it… Gilda? Actually caring about someone? Scipio did not know if it was possible to cure a creature of the Shadow Power, but he had to believe that it could be done. He had to believe his race would survive this calamity. Hawkwing saved us once. There must be the means to do so again.

Time was running short for such thoughts, however. A rather severe looking pegasus wearing sky-talons was whipping her way toward the head of the column, where a line of dark-armored earth ponies had formed a fairly solid defensive line. Useless for offense though, he snorted softly, glaring at the line. Who in Caesar’s name decided it would be wise to deploy heavy infantry like that?

The pegasus with the sky talons hit the ground in front of him with an impressive show of sparks before coming to a halt. Her mane was moonlight silver and her coat a deep, dark blue. Dyed, obviously, but still an impressive look. Instantly, he recognized the eyes of a fellow predator and his heart began to race a little. It was rather surprising to find another pony so obviously prepared to make war, but here she was. Where had Dark Sun found them all? The pegasus’ voice was growling and lacking in patience as she spoke. “Who are you to stand in my way, griffon? What are griffon soldiers doing in Equestria?” she snarled at him, keeping low and poised to strike.

Scipio extended his talon and grasped the haft of his spear, tugging it out of the dirt and feeling a smile cross his face. “I am Scipio Grifficanus, pegasus.” His voice was pitched low, but projected as loudly as he could across the stone bridge. “Caesar, by the will of Roam.” Scipio planted the haft of his spear against the stone, sending a ringing sound through the air and the scuttling sounds of the other ponies and creatures on the bridge came to a halt. “And we have come to deliver a message to your dark mistress.”

For a moment, Scipio was certain the pegasus intended to attack him. Her muscles tensed, and she was poised to strike when she paused, and slowly uncoiled, her eyes narrowing. “And what message is that, griffon?” she sneered at him then, her eyes narrowing. “I see no laurel crown upon your head, and you have not answered my other question either. Tell me why I should not slay your lonely self where you stand?”

The words thundered back at him, and Scipio could not help himself. He laughed low and softly, raising his talon into the air. As though by magic, the Guard melted out of the wheat fields behind him, marching in perfect formation. “Because I am not alone, pegasus,” he growled, as the sound of steel clad talons rapping against the stone road echoed around him and the arrogant pegasus retreated a step in obvious fear. Scipio extended his talon, and as if on cue a golden helmet was placed upon it, and he pulled the Helm of Roamanus to his head.

The pegasus visibly swallowed, and he spoke as one hundred war spears leveled themselves towards his foe. “We have come to Equestria to free her from the Dark Sun. And our message is thus.” His talon extended again, and a massive shield of golden steel was placed within it. He hefted his warspear and brandished the shield before him, and with perfect precision a dozen more shields locked into place alongside his, forming a wall of steel and spear. He felt a smile cross his face at the sight of the creature of the Shadow stare at him with a moment of fear before speaking with a single, clear voice.

“The Legion Stands.”

This was bad.

No, this was very much beyond bad.

Winterlight was never one to refuse battle, but fighting right now would have been utter madness. This wasn’t simply a unit of the Praetorian Guard. It was the entire fucking Praetorian Guard, and worse still, they were protecting a legitimate Caesar! This was every possible nightmare about these damnable griffons all loaded into a ballista pointed right at her face! There was only one thing she could possibly do.

Run.

Her hooves caught the stone of the road, her sky-talons screaming against the rock as she launched herself into the air, flying pell-mell back toward the relative safety of the convoy. “Form a retreat line! Get those damn abominations into the fight! NOW!” Her screams created order from chaos, as black armored soldiers fell into line, creating a far thicker line of defense at her front. There was no time to save the foremost carts, but that would be a small price to pay to save her entire force from annihilation.

The Hippogriffs nearest to her trundled past the carts toward the fighting line as the sound of hundreds of iron-clad talons rained down upon the stone bridge. We’re going to get bracketed. No one holds a line better than the Praetorians. I’ve got to get to the other end of the bridge and fast. With a plan now firmly in mind, she took off like a shot and kept as low as she could. “DASH! FRONT AND CENTER!” she screeched into the air, and a moment later, the rainbow maned pegasus appeared out of the Shadows next to her.

“The Bolt’s are ready! What’s the score?” Dash replied quickly, keeping up with an effortless ease that pissed Winterlight off. Well, it was about time to find out if she could fight as well as she could fly.

Winterlight growled, keeping her orders terse and to the point. “Tell them to keep the skies clear. We need time to get the rest of the troops off the bridge. Get to the north end of the bridge and make sure everything is getting off of it as fast as you can manage! Go!” To her credit, Dash didn’t question her orders. She saluted and vanished in a puff of shadow power a second later.

That taken care of, she pulled a hard turn and glared around her. The column was still in panic, and that wasn’t going to make getting things off of it easier. So she cupped her wings around her mouth and focused her pegasus magic into the air, vastly increasing the power of her voice for a few precious moments. “LISTEN UP!” she screamed, and all at once the chaos came to a screaming halt around her.

That accomplished, Winterlight re-folded her wings and began to bark orders, brandishing her hooves to grant each command a bit more direction. “I want these carts turned around right now! Anyone trained in fighting, move to the southern end of the bridge and help hold off the griffon attackers! Anyone who isn’t needs to be moving these carts!” The milling civilians and soldiers were quickly organizing now, which gave Winterlight time to contemplate how she was going to handle whatever was going to come at her from the north.

Then a sound came from that same direction - distant at first but growing stronger by the moment. It was a voice, speaking in some odd cadence that set Winterlight’s teeth on edge. She turned in place and sighed, growling under her breath. “Oh, Goddess preserve me.” Her butt hit the floor of the cart she had been standing on for just a moment. “They have a battle shaman,” she snarled out and smashed her hoof through the bed of the cart, feeling the rage start to smoulder inside of her.

She grabbed the nearest soldier and turned to snarl at him. “I need you to deliver these orders to every single one of the Shadow Guard, right now.”

The time had come.

Shadowblight was here, its sick power pulsing within the air as its creatures breathed out its foul taint. It seeped into the ground from their hooves and wheels, scarring the land with their presence. And within the bodies of those poor benighted souls upon the bridge, the blight held their spirits in screaming bondage. For anypony else, it might have been too much to bear… but she was not anypony.

The spirits of the earth and sky cried out to her, begging for the balance to be restored to the world around her. The world needed a Lahela right now, but all it had was a Zecora. The zebrican gently leaned on her stave and sent her spirit down into the earth, trying to soothe the angry spirits there. She was not her ancestress, the most powerful of all the shaman in the history of her tribes. She did not have her intimate connection to the spirits of the world, and did not have her power.

But then, her ancestress had not had little Scootaloo with her, and there was a source of power unlike any she had seen before. “Zecora? You ready?” the pegasus filly whispered, and Zecora felt herself nod once. “Well, theres a lot more of them than I thought there’d be… so if you’ve got a trick up your hoof-” Zecora turned and pressed her hoof against Scootaloo’s mouth and smiled silently, then brought it back to her lips and gave off a soft shh sound.

Then she turned back to the road, and struck her stave once upon the ground. Then again, and again. Slowly, she sought out the heartbeat of the earth around her, and slowly it came to her. The beat was a simple one, but this was a simple place. The forces which had split the earth asunder here so long ago had moved on to other places, and now all that remained was the sign of their rage. Yet there was still strength here, imbued into the earth so very long ago. It had a soul, and that soul was angry.

The beat began to pick up, and she felt the power surge through her limbs. The words flowed from her lips without her conscious thought, as she called the spirits to war. ”Ayo-ay-yo! Ayo-ay-yo! Creature of darkness, child of the fen, Ayo-ay-yo! The black spirit returns to rule us again, ayo-ay-yo!” Her voice was not her own, even as her hooves began to move. Scootaloo might have been saying something, but Zecora could not hear her.

The bright spirits which had flocked to the little filly now soared around her, and her voice rumbled through the earth. ”But we shall not give in to the Shadow’s foul blight, Ayo-ay-yo! We’ll drive it back down again, out of our sight! Ayo-ay-YO!” Zecora gave her mind and spirit over to the earth, and the world changed about her. Every scent was sharper, and every color more vibrant and pure. The fiery spirits that Scootaloo attracted fueled her chant with power, and all the world seemed to come alive around them.

“Zecora, what are you- Whoa.” Scootaloo’s voice penetrated through the haze of Spirits, and Zecora could not help but chuckle faintly at the sound of the little one. It was always a unique experience, feeling the strength of the Spirits for the first time. “This is… whoa.” Scootaloo repeated brilliantly, and Zecora chuckled again.

The dark thestral who called herself Crescent Blade showed no signs, but a broad and deep smile blossomed onto her face as the power seeped up from the ground. Zecora felt a tugging of kinship for the strange pony - perhaps there was one who might even benefit from her tutelage. But now the beat of the earth grew stronger, and she continued the chant. ”So come to me friends, and sharpen your ears, Ayo-ay-yo! Slay all your doubts and raise up your spears, Ayo-ay-yo!”

Scootaloo had mounted her scooter, drawing the blade from her back between her teeth and a fierce grin splitting her face. Zecora turned towards the bridge and felt her steps gather into a canter, and then a trot. Her voice sang out, resonating into the earth as she ran, her stave slung over her shoulder and the power of the earth at her hooves. The preliminaries were over. The war was on. ”Let us cast out the Shadows and cast out the Blight, ready your weapons and prepare for the fight! Ayo-rah-sey-no! Ayo-rah-doh! For the spirits are with us, and the enemy’s near, so take up your weapon and show them no fear!

Ayo-rah-sey-no! AYO-AY-YO!”

Author's Notes:

Okay, so.

Originally the Battle of Ghastly Gorge was going to be one mega-chapter. However, when I finally sat down and OUTLINED the whole thing.... Well, yeah.

So in the interest of not making you guys wait another week for an update, Each battle will be broken up along natural stopping points in the interest of keeping the flow intact. So some parts will be longer than others. All battles will be released, in their complete form, in multiple chapter "Parts" so you can read at your leisure.

Enjoy!