From here it hardly seemed real, more like a gathering of insects than a war for survival. Faraway figures moved against one another and bunched up along the fortification, with only the distant thump of impacting catapult missiles and the brief shriek of steel clashing against crystal giving any indication that lives were being lost by the second.

Praxilus peered over the side of Canterlot's rim in morbid fascination, stomach turning with vertigo at the thought of falling from such a great height. The hanging west end of the city served as a vantage point and firing position for a large number of modified Equestrian siege weapons, with an appropriately sized force of supporting soldiers hurriedly preparing their equipment. Pegasus ponies darted to and fro with messages and orders, some flying so fast as to leave colored, glittering trails in their wake that quickly faded from sight.

Far below and away, a nearly endless rush of deer were continuing to pour through the narrow pass, leaving a trail of shattered dead, though he did not know if they were redtail or whitetail. In truth it did not matter, for they were all his kin, even if most of them would not have seen it that way. Such a terrible waste of life.

They had managed to breach the wall at great cost, and were now slowly but surely pushing the ponies back along its length. Behind the initial line waited the bulk of Equestria's forces, formed up into long, rectangular blocks of infantry several tiers deep. Even further back, right up against the edge of the spotted forest, Zevran's armies stood in silent support of their allies.

Faint call and response war horns sounded from somewhere amongst the chaos. Praxilus wished he was more familiar with military communications, and briefly considered asking one of the nearby officers what the blaring tones meant, but they were hardly in the mood for small talk. No doubt some of them wished he would fall over the side, merely for the 'crime' of being a deer.

Something caught his eye, a subtle glow that carried down the pass like moonlight shining through frosted glass. It grew brighter by the second, now flickering with white and green flashes, as if from an otherworldly thunderstorm. Its source came into view a scant moment later in the form of a crackling wall of magic, curved back slightly at the top and filling the canyon from side to side. A barrier spell!

Catapult and ballista shots fired from behind the Equestrian defensive line hurled across the distance, shattering against the powerful spell with flashes of light and arcing tendrils of ethereal power. Volleys of arrows soon joined the fray, but they too had no effect.

Praxilus felt his heart racing in his chest. Barrier magic was not unheard of among Whitetail's military, often deployed along the high walls of Evinwiir, but never had he seen one so substantial. Everything that was thrown at it simply ceased to be. No, this had to be the work of a far more powerful collection of magii. His stomach dropped at the only logical conclusion.

The redtail were coming for him once more, and with them, Corvalix.

The whitetail, he had to admit, had done a fine job of serving as fodder. Admirable, even. The mangled bodies before him were proof of their dedication and bravery in the face of almost certain death. Bravery...or stupidity. There was a fine line between the two, Corvalix thought amusedly. The pass was as lethal a kill zone as he had ever seen, the perfect position to funnel his forces into murderous fire from the ponies. How many whitetail had he lost? Hundreds, to be sure. At times the ground was positively covered with remains and slick with slowly freezing blood and offal, producing a most terrible smell that threatened to void his stomach at any moment.

Another volley slammed into the magical shield that projected before him, kept in place by the talents of his Exemplars and a few does borrowed from his sister's Imperial Protectorate detail. Resisting a fusillade of this intensity would have been impossible without their talents, but even they had their limits. Every stone ball or steel bolt that crashed into the barrier took its toll on them, and what had started off as a casual march now left them wincing from the backlash of arcane forces.

The pace had picked up to a brisk but cautious advance now. Spike pits littered their path, some still filled with their struggling, mewling victims that looked up at the passing redtail with pleading eyes. The closest soldiers would pull pairs of heavy darts from their packs as they went by and do their best to put an end to the whitetails' suffering; a small waste of resources, perhaps, but they had at least earned the mercy of a relatively quick death.

A sapphire-clad doe gritted her teeth as a missile came to a crushing stop against the barrier. Small fragments managed to make it through, scattering among their ranks and caroming off the ground with noisy skitters. The doe redoubled her focus, antlers crackling with power, and the transparent wall flickered with renewed strength.

"Do not falter, my brothers and sisters!" Corvalix shouted. A harsh gust whipped between the stone walls as if trying to silence him, flattening the bright orange and red feathers of his phoenix headdress against the tall prongs of his broad rack. "Today is the day of our reckoning! We must carry on in the name of our dead, and strike with righteous vengeance! Cervidae aarth'wyyn!"

"Cervidaelis hwah!" they answered as one, the shout echoing down the line as formation after formation responded in kind. Thousands upon thousands of voices, united in a singular purpose. He could feel their eagerness, almost palpable in its intensity. Holding back, moving slowly and surely as they were now, was not in deerkind's nature, and despite their discipline and professionalism there still burned that desire, that instinct, to break into a loping stride and rush the enemy down. They would get their taste of battle soon enough, for the Equestrian wall loomed ever closer. It had been charred black-green along its length, leaving smoldering corpses that had been entangled in the sickening blood-drinker vines that now curled into themselves as they died. Such a barbaric, brutish act it had been, using the horrific abominations of Equestria's wild woods as living weapons. The ponies would pay for their cruelty a hundred times over!

Soon they were within mere strides of the fortification. All along the top of the wall and across the battlements the surviving whitetail fought the ponies in vicious combat. They had made small but important gains at several points, leaving their siege ladders intact for the redtail to use.

"Ready the shock forces!" he ordered, gazing up at the looming defenses. Bodies hung over its edge like grotesque adornments, punctured by bolts and arrows. Behind him the electric snap of deer magic built like a storm. Its power thrummed, waiting to be unleashed at his word.

"You may drop the barrier now," he told the does at his side. He received a simple nod of acknowledgement and the translucent spell flickered, then faded from existence. Now he would see what the cocksure Equestrians could truly handle.

"Daeth h'wahn: wyndiil kaaranax!"

The hum of magic grew to a sudden thunderclap, and with it the first four ranks of Cervidaen Exemplars vaulted into the air, suspended in shimmering quintessence that clung to their bodies like a film of stardust, and in seconds they were over the wall.

Had he the time to do so, Milites Spring Sparrow would have emptied the contents of his stomach onto the battlements many times over. As it was, he was far too busy desperately trying to stay alive to feel sick. Combat was not the organized, clean affair they had told him of in his brief but difficult training, where line formations always held and orders could always be heard. No, this was something else entirely, a chaotic maelstrom of sound and pain. Everything hurt; his ears from the clang of metal against crystal and the screams of the dying, his agonized muscles from the exertion of fighting for his life, his innards from the awful iron-tinged stench of gore. His palate had long since turned dry in the cold air, whetted only by the trickles of blood that ran down his blade every time he took a life, and he could feel the corners of his mouth cracking with every clash of his weapon. This was what the stories and songs had idolized? He did not know how anyone could consider such a thing to be glorious or honorable. He just wanted it to be over.

A string of horn calls sounded from somewhere to his left, the same one he'd heard numerous times. Again he ducked behind his shield, dug in his hooves, and shoved his way forward. The line gained another couple of inches along his side of the flank. The deer in front of him cursed in its almost poetic language, attempting to tear into him with the long blade of strong, sharp crystal. Spring Sparrow blocked it with his shield, then delivered a counter-blow aimed for the neck, but the deer was quick and threw up his own segmented buckler that absorbed the hit. Strike and defend, stand firm. They'd drilled it into him mercilessly during his conscription. With the deer collectively pushing back against the shield wall he found it far easier said than done.

A low droning began to build from below the wall. It distracted him only briefly, for the whitetail soldier was intent on ending him as messily as possible. Two sword strikes glanced off the buck's armor, doing nothing more than leaving scratches on its surface, until finally he managed to slice a deep gash into his opponent's shoulder. It was followed a heartbeat later by a long Equestrian spear thrusting out from the second line and catching the deer along the top of his head, slicing prongs from his antlers and nearly severing his ear. The buck yelped in pain and stumbled back, tripping over the body of a fallen ally, and tumbled over the side. One more down, at least temporarily.

Every inch of his body ached. He wouldn't be able to keep this up forever, but there were so many of them out there. First the whitetail, now the damned redtail. For every one that he or someone else killed, another one took its place. Gods, just let him get away from it all!

Something boomed above the roar of battle, loud and sudden like a nearby lightning strike, and with it came a veritable cloud of deer suspended in magic. They leapt straight over the defenses, past the first two ranks of battle-weary stallions, and landed among the third line of supports. The redtail wasted no time carving into the inexperienced, mostly conscripted soldiers. They moved with a grace and fluidity far beyond that of the deer he'd fought thus far, and yet their strikes spoke of power and precision. His stomach dropped as something clicked in his mind; he knew that armor from the training scrolls. Those weren't just any redtail, those were Exemplars! The very best of Cervidae's ranks were cutting a bloody swath through archers, supply runners, medicae assistants and all manner of troops who were not meant for real combat, causing much of the right flank to have to break away from the ramparts and try to deal with them, but doing so weakened that side considerably. More deer were charging up the ladders now, faster and faster, fresh for the fight and eager to spill Equestrian blood.

The walls lit up with green light, and the low hum started to grow once more. Spring Sparrow began to panic, scrambling backwards and running into the pony behind him. Staying here was absolute madness! The stocky earth pony with his blood-slicked spear stood firm, but the look in his eyes betrayed his own fears.

More war horns bellowed from behind. Spring Sparrow steadied himself as best he could, his forelegs shaking and straining to heft his shield once more, fully expecting to have to push forward again.

But this time it was different. The call was one short note, followed by one long note, repeated three times. The call for retreat. His spirits rose at the wonderful sound; he might actually escape with his life.

"Fall back!" a nearby officer shouted at the top of his lungs. "All units, fall back!"

The line broke at once, less of an organized formation of soldiers than a rush of galloping or flying individuals fleeing as fast as they could. Spring Sparrow followed directly behind a clump of conscripts that were injured nearly to the last, hobbling along on wounded legs or dragging useless limbs along. Along either side the deer were pouring over the wall like a swarm of angry ants, plunging their weapons into the closest pony and charging without pause in an attempt to encircle and destroy the survivors.

Spring Sparrow galloped faster than he'd ever thought himself capable of, ignoring he shooting pain that rippled through him with every agonized step. The ramp down to the valley was just ahead, and he could see the distant catapults and ballistae being hauled away to safety behind the waiting lines of Equestrian soldiers. There were thousands of them out there, waiting for their turn with shields and spears held high. He just needed to make it there, and he'd be free from this nightmare.

Not everyone was able to get to the ramp, and many of them chose to jump from the battlements rather than wait the long seconds it would take to get to the crowded path. They landed in heaps below, some getting up and sprinting away, while others remained unmoving and broken with limbs or necks twisted at grotesque angles. The advancing redtail and whitetail forces hurled heavy darts, throwing spears, even emerald flame pots at anyone they could see. Green conflagrations burst from all along the ramp, enveloping entire squads at once in terrible cacophonies of roaring fire and screaming stallions. The panicked ponies not caught up in the horrible deer weapons began to shove one another in an attempt to escape faster, pushing dozens over the side where the shattered remains of siege weapons stood in splintered piles. The Exemplars seized the opportunity to rip ballista bolts out of their wooden cases, hefting them into the air and launching them back down to pierce through several ponies at once with frightening effect.

Spring Sparrow was down the ramp now, back onto the rocky soil and patchy grass of the Auroran Valley. All around him ponies split up into a loose rabble, not wanting to stay as part of a group and invite attention to themselves lest an errant flame pot find them. He glanced over his shoulder, watching the deer slaughter the wounded who were unable to escape. They followed the ponies down the ramp, but once they reached the solid ground below they simply...stopped. His confusion gave way to relief, and as he crossed the Equestrian battle line he collapsed onto the dirt in exhaustion. Cervidae may have been coming for Canterlot, and perhaps all of ponykind, but for now, at least, he had escaped the specter of death.

Elder M'wolane watched the unfolding spectacle with a grim, morbid curiosity. The deer were nothing if not disciplined. Even as they hunted down the last survivors of the wall defenses they regrouped into wedge-shaped battle formations headed by pairs of Exemplar magic users. Their barriers were not as powerful as the one that had kept them safe during the march through the pass, only able to stop arrow volleys at best and mostly useless against the siege weapons that were quickly being set up in new positions. Something had changed...or perhaps something was missing.

"Honored Elder, the ponies are expecting a full charge to come their way within a matter of minutes. What would you have us do?" Seer-Shaman Imbele approached with a walking stick tucked into his right foreleg. Beads of polished stone and small shells rattled along its feathered top.

M'wolane considered the question for a moment. Equestria's generals had left it up to him how best to support the ponies in combat, and it was a burden he did not take lightly. An improper application of force could result in disastrous losses.

"Tell the war bands that I wish them to stay to the right of the Equestrian battle lines."

"All of them?"

"Yes. Every last nbomu."

Imbele gave him a look of incredulity. "All due respect, Honored Elder, but I am not sure that is a wise decision. The deer have already shown themselves to be strong against single-front defenses."

M'wolane smiled warmly. "Do not worry so, my old friend, for the spirits are with us this day. Tell our sha'jaal to consume their brews; the time of Zevran is upon us."

The ruthless efficiency of the redtail was no less horrific when seen for a second time. No quarter was given to those who attempted to surrender, and anyone unfortunate enough to be caught up in the surge of deer faced overwhelming numbers and skilled magic in equal measure. Caethil felt a deep revulsion at the sight of the Exemplar spearhead, a hatred so powerful that he was sure it would melt the snow around him.

"Easy, Brother-Commander. Your time will come." Former Standard-Commander Eradaxis Ent'wyyl stood tall and proud in his suit of quinndryll armor, one of the fortunate few to have the honor of donning a full set. The bucks and stags around him wore mostly scavenged bits of crystal plate complimented with Equestrian steel and iron. It was an odd amalgamation, to be sure, but necessity took precedence over form.

"It cannot come soon enough," Caethil said with gritted teeth. Already the prongs of his antlers were subtly glowing with power, raw and primal, just waiting to be focused and given purpose. "I have waited months, Eradaxis. Months! These talshyiir dare to show themselves after chasing me through the woods, after slaughtering my soldiers! I will pay them back ten fold, a hundred fold, for every life they took from me!"

Eradaxis placed a hoof on his shoulder. "Calm yourself. The bucks who fight alongside us now will be looking to you for their courage. Do not let your anger control you, lest they begin to doubt our resolve. We have all lost someone to the madness of Cervidae's empress -- friends, family, soldiers -- and at long last we have the chance to set things right. Do not squander it." He raised his voice to be heard over the rustling of steel and crystal from the whitetail loyalists who watched him nervously. "Do not fear death, sons of Whitetail, for the ancestors watch over us! Fight as one! Fight for your homes!"

The call to arms came at last. Caethil drew his sword, locked his shield into place, and readied himself for his final battle.

"I do not fear death," he said in a low voice, the magical grip on his weapon crackling and flaring with might, "for I will drag Corvalix into the depths of the nine hells with me."