In all of their time together Tercio had never seen his brother in such a state. Bandages covered much of his body, including his neck and part of his head, with a patch of reddened wrappings around his left foreleg where his leg guard had been removed. Victus seemed to be doing his best to keep from putting pressure on it, and he walked with a pronounced limp any time he had to move. Both of his wings were missing sections of feathers, looking as if they'd been burned away. A shallow, vertical cut along one side had matted the smaller down feathers into a crimson clump that stuck out at all angles in shallow spikes, and the razor edges of his wing blades were dented and caked with gore.

And then there was his armor: beaten, gashed and bent back in places to reveal the winter tunic underneath. It had been scarred by blade trails and discolored by a patchwork of blood, with blackened segments of pockmarks from his shoulder down to his pteruges skirt that hung in shredded strands. What sort of front-line combat had he seen? More to the point, how was he still able to carry on? By all rights he should have been taking refuge in the armory with the other wounded survivors of the valley battle.

"You look like the Nine Hells themselves, brother," Tercio said.

Victus gave a short, pained laugh. "I feel like Nine Hells themselves. Going to take more than a little blood and sweat to keep a Krosus down, I'll tell you that."

"I am glad you're alive, Decanus," Celestia said, "but I'm afraid our time for rejoicing is short. You said a band of Whitetail Loyalists saw the Cervidaen siblings?"

"Yes, Princess. I was briefly at the armory after helping the the few Legionaries that had made it through the failed scouting mission. To my surprise I also encountered Senator Praxilus in the valley. He's alive and safe at the armory, don't worry," Victus said reassuringly. "A story for another time, that one. But yes, Imperator Flint Forge of the 27th Legion had authorized a band of whitetail to assist the castle if at all possible. At the time we all assumed you would be making your way back, but it seems things have changed."

"We had little choice. Decisive action was required to save the civilians."

"So I saw. I decided to take a short scouting flight just after the whitetail squad left, and when I'd caught up with them they were just leaving the western reach. Apparently a buck named Caethil had seen the redtail leaders appear out of thin air not fifty paces from where they were, near a trio of food carts."

"Did they have any escorts with them?" Celestia asked.

"From what Caethil told me there were about two squads worth of Exemplars and several females in blue armor. I think they're the ones you'd call the 'Protectorate'. Caethil and his bucks decided to take shelter and conceal themselves until the enemy passed. I was extremely fortunate to find them a few moments later; if I'd arrived over the area any sooner I would have surely been seen by Elinwynn and her guards.

"As of this moment the Whitetail Loyalists are still heading this way. They plan to join the Royal Guard in fighting at the front, but they wanted me to pass on that they're willing to join you should you desire their aid."

Celestia nodded. "They would certainly be a valuable asset. And Elinwynn?"

"Last seen headed northwest. As far as we can tell there are no deer reinforcements out that way. It's possible they do not know the city and are simply lost in the dark, but I cannot say for sure."

She needed only a short time to consider her next move. "Very well. It is imperative that we do not let Elinwynn and Corvalix escape. I will send one of my pegasi to locate Caethil and his squad; we'll need their help. In the mean time, we will take the back exit through the castle and head to Elinwynn's last known location."

"All due respect to the others, Princess, I can still perform my mission," Victus insisted. "I know where the Loyalists were, and I've a good idea where they might be now. I'll find them for you."

Celestia gave a light, comforting smile. "There is no need to exert yourself so, Victus. Your scars speak to your commitment this day. I would advise you to return to the armory and seek an apothecary."

Victus was not having any of it. "Too many of my brothers have died to Elinwynn's tricks. So long as there is air in my lungs I will continue to serve and to fight. The redtail will learn that we are defiant until death." He looked to Tercio. "And even beyond."

"You always were the stubborn one," Tercio said, getting a smirk in return.

"Runs in the family."

Beaten up though he might have been, Celestia couldn't deny his ability and attitude. She wondered what had become of the brothers' parents, if they had emerged from the redtail atrocity unscathed. No doubt the same thing was on the their minds. There would be time to worry later; for now they could only hope to bring about a quick end to the fighting.

"Alright. Find the Loyalists and tell them to double back to the storehouse area, near the grain silos. If they encounter Elinwynn and her ilk they are not to engage them in combat if at all possible. The same goes for you, Decanus. You are my eyes and ears, and I need you alive."

Victus snapped off a smart salute. "As you wish, Your Highness."

"Just a moment, Victus," Tercio said, pushing his way through a pair of his squadmates. He embraced Victus in a tight hug, hoping that it wouldn't be the last time he saw him alive. "We've been through too much this day. Promise me you'll take care of yourself."

"Me? Last I recall you're the one who cheated death, you lucky bastard," Victus said in turn, hoping no one would hear his voice crack with worry. "Don't go thinking you can do it again, alright? I won't be there to drag you back this time. And don't worry, the prong-heads haven't been able to keep me down yet. We'll find mother and father once we've tossed the deer back out of our city."

"Stonewall?" Celestia asked quietly as Victus wished the Praetorians luck and departed over the top of the castle.

"Yes, Princess?" he answered.

"Draw an additional contubernium from the other Praetorian Guard units, and do so quickly. I want to be sure we have sufficient numbers to counter any threat Elinwynn can throw at us. We'll need a good number of unicorns, if you can find them."

The heaviest fighting at the base of the castle grounds was rife with Praetorians. The relatively narrow confines meant that many ponies were in third or fourth line positions, serving as relief for any injured or slain Equestrian and Royal Guard ponies who made up the bulk of the fighting force. They could spare a few of their number, Stonewall figured.

"Right, will only take a minute." He galloped away as Celestia addressed her squad.

"My most faithful of friends, it is unfortunate that it had to come to this, but Elinwynn has left me no choice. As of this moment we will devote every ounce of effort to finding and stopping her. Consider it a royal decree or an official order if you must, but nothing is more important than this task, not even my own safety. Do you all understand?"

"Yes, Princess," they answered together, though she could see that some of them were hesitant to accept such an demand. She could hardly blame them, but these were desperate circumstances. Elinwynn could not be trusted even at the best of times, and certainly not when she was on the run.

"Thank you. As soon as Stonewall returns we will make all due haste." She looked to her twin swords, their silvery sheen now marred by drying blood from the two young bucks whose lives she'd been forced to take. Another pair of souls sacrificed at the altar of Elinwynn's madness and ambition.

"I do so despise teleportation."

Corvalix clutched his stomach as another wave of nausea rippled through him, thankful that there was nothing left to bring back up. What little he had eaten earlier in the day was now a mess along the road near a small shop.

"Apologies for the sudden departure, Brother-General, but the Equestrian princess left us little choice. It is not an ideal location but it is the only one that was visible to us at that moment." One of the Protectorate does, a younger member, sounded almost sickeningly apologetic as she offered a small cloth from a satchel at her side. He took it with an annoyed grunt and wiped his mouth, then dropped it to the ground.

Wherever they had emerged from the aether was entirely unfamiliar to him, with a jumbled and inefficient forest of colorful buildings wherever he looked. There was no light of any kind save the moon's -- so strangely adorned with the image of Celestia's sister -- and he feared that lighting a torch or using an illumination spell would draw undue attention to their location. They had already wandered aimlessly for a time and made little in the way of progress.

Most annoying of all was the persistent after-image of the blindingly bright spell that had been the catalyst of an ambush. He had to give it to the ponies: they had pulled off a rather masterful attack. What little of the battle he had seen before disappearing in an instant showed that his sister's 'bargaining' chip had been at least partly negated. So much for forcing Celestia to surrender. He doubted if a single pony in the entirety of Equestria would give themselves up now.

He tried to blink away the spot in his vision to little avail. Focusing his eyes in the dark was infuriatingly difficult. If any of the others had the same problem they weren't making it known; a protective circle of Exemplars had already formed, with the magii at the center.

"Have you any idea where we might be?" he asked Elinwynn. "You've been to this wretched place far more often than myself." She hadn't said a thing since the attack and subsequent escape. At the moment she was facing a wall with her eyes shut, speaking to herself so quietly that he could not begin to hear her. Curls of black magic drifted from her like smoke from simmering ashes. He chose his words carefully and placed a hoof on her shoulder. "Elinwynn, I realize you are upset, but we can ill afford to tarry. We should find our way to the bulk of the army and regroup from there. This is but a minor setback until--"

The wall in front of him exploded inward under a crushing blast of force, sending chunks of stone and clouds of dust in all directions. The surging aftershock of magical energy shoved him back and nearly knocked him off his hooves. Remaining concealed, if their teleportation hadn't given them away already, had suddenly ceased to be an option.

"Are you mad?!" he shouted, caring little for the hateful stare he received in turn from those cold, unfamiliar eyes. Dark slits, like a predator, against muddied fields of grey-green. It disturbed him greatly, but for the time being his rage was greater and growing by the second. She would hear him out, magic be damned!

"I do not know if you've noticed, dearest sister, but we are dangerously few in number! And now every unicorn within the city is going to know exactly where we are, nevermind Celestia!"

"Good. Let them come," she said in a shifting, two-toned voice. Corvalix would have laughed had he not been infuriated.

"Let them come? Listen to yourself! Your grand scheme to force a surrender has crumbled before you! The princess called your bluff and now we have lost all momentum gained from my military command! I scarcely need to tell you how low we are on experienced soldiers!" He stepped closer, until they were nearly touching. "What would you have me do now, Elinwynn? Hmm? Throw yet more conscripts into the maelstrom? Sacrifice another thousand lives while you stand here fuming?"

She did not move, did not blink, as if she could burn a hole through him through the force of her gaze alone.

"I would sacrifice all of Cervidae if it meant Equestria burned," she answered. "Do not think you are exempt simply because we share the same blood. This is my nation, my war, and you--"

Corvalix slapped her across the mouth hard enough to draw a stream of blood. It was an action for which he felt neither joy nor sorrow.

Elinwynn sneered in contempt and spat on the ground, feeling the sting across her cheek as the magii gathered power to protect their empress.

"Stay where you are!" he ordered, knowing full well that they would not hesitate to attack him should Elinwynn demand it. That was the last thing he needed right now. "You listen to me, Elinwynn: we have come too far and lost too many to throw it all away because you cannot control yourself. It is clear that you are not in your right state of mind. Just look at you! I can see it plain as day. We can all see it. If I must be the one to say something, then so shall that be my burden!" He shoved his hoof against her chest plate. "You are not fit to lead Cervidae under the influence of whatever dark magics the whitetail cooked up for your selfish desires!"

He was suddenly lifted from the ground and his hooves instinctively shot towards his neck, feeling as though a noose of thorned vine had been wrapped around it and was constricting tighter and tighter with every struggling breath.

"I am not fit? I am not fit?! I am the only one fit to lead Cervidae!" Elinwynn yanked him towards her and forced him to look, to see how insignificant he truly was. "It is through the machinations I have set in motion that we are tearing Canterlot to the ground! You do not get a say in this, dear brother! You will do as I say, when I say, and if you should dare to assault me again then I will tear you limb from limb and hurl your body to the four corners of this accursed nation! I HOLD THE POWER HERE! NOT YOU!"

Corvalix was tossed against a nearby building, slamming into its entrance and crashing through a wooden door in a shower of splinters. Pain racked his body yet again while the air was squeezed from his throat and his swimming vision narrowed to pinpoints. Just as he was on the edge of passing out Elinwynn relented, and he gasped and coughed as he breathed in deep lungfuls of dusty air.

She was already standing over him when he began to push himself up. To his great surprise she pulled him into her chest in a tight embrace, as if nothing had happened, and silently held him for a time.

"I've no wish to hurt you further, brother. You've still a part to play in my designs, but do not forget your place," she said quietly into his ear.

He was not about to push his luck. "And exactly what are your designs?" he asked carefully, waving an Exemplar over to quickly dust off his armor as she released him. None of his bucks said a thing, but from the looks he received it was obvious that they were not pleased with how events were transpiring. Who would they stand with, he wondered -- their Empress or their Brother-General? Who did they believe to be the one worthy of rule after the day's events?

"You will find out in due time," Elinwynn said. Her voice was as close to normal as he'd heard since their quick escape. "For now we must make haste, for the ponies and their traitorous whitetail lackeys shall soon be upon us."

Caethil could practically feel his blood boiling with rage. That murderous whore-son had been right there, so close he could have practically reached out and grabbed him by the antlers. Every fiber of his being had screamed out for him to act, then and there, consequences be damned; perhaps if he was alone he would have done exactly that. To sink his blade into Corvalix's neck, to see the shock in his eyes before the Exemplars fell upon him in a flurry of retribution...it would have been a good death.

Yet he had not given in to the strongest temptation of his life. The others were doubtlessly thankful, his small band of true whitetail, whom had held their collective breath at the sound of relocation magic breaking the silence just outside of the building they had been looking through for water to refill their flasks. The unmistakable voice of Corvalix had come through clear from a small window at the far end of their room, and his bucks froze immediately in surprise and quiet panic. Caethil had shaken his head and gestured across his antlers -- no movement, no magic. By the sound of things there were far more redtail with him than Caethil could have possibly managed to fight off, and he worried and fumed in equal measure knowing his most hated enemy was just beyond the wall. Such self-discipline did not come easy, especially once he'd heard what was possibly a violent confrontation between Corvalix and Elinwynn, and Elinwynn had definitely won that particular exchange. Trouble in paradise; an unexpected but welcome turn of events.

The majority of the magii had soon left with Elinwynn, leaving Corvalix lagging behind until his vision recovered. Being humiliated in front of his own soldiers had not left him in a particularly strong state of mind, which he made clear by swearing and kicking over a cart before berating some unfortunate buck for a perceived wrongdoing.

"We had them! We had those fucking ponies exactly where we wanted them, and we squandered it! Why was I not informed of the unicorn squad leaders? How did they find every magii in a five block radius without us having the slightest fucking clue?!"

Despite his heart pounding in his ears Caethil managed a smile at the gwillyhr's misfortune. Something had gone terribly wrong for the Cervidaen army. That meant the Equestrians were still holding fast.

"Ancestors, what a mess. How they must be laughing at us!"

A second voice, lighter and feminine, answered him.

"Brother-General, we mustn't tarry. The Empress is in need of time and focus, but she cannot recover without giving away our position. We will have to find somewhere to rest, if only for a moment. Perhaps you can act as her vanguard until she has recovered."

"I can't see a fucking thing, Aalyndria!", Corvalix snapped back. "Damn that princess and her cheap tricks! When I get my hooves on her I am going to burn her eyes out! Just...move away from the castle for now. I need time to think."

And so they had gone, leaving the area immediately after. Caethil and his squad had waited for several minutes, until they were absolutely sure they were alone once again. The collective sigh of relief was palpable. A short discussion led to them deciding to continue on to the battle at the castle, one that had flared into a full-scale melee once more, rather than attempt to track down a larger and far more capable force.

That, of course, had been when a pegasus in a red cape had found them. It had circled above, weapon drawn, as it decided whether they were a threat. Caethil had waved him down and assured them that they were with the Whitetail Loyalists. The Legion pony -- Victus, he'd said his name was -- had seen the events transpire during his flight back to the castle, and had hoped to find where the royal brats had gotten to. Caethil had told him everything he knew, with Senior Brother-Recruit Axilaatis having seen them heading west in an alley between several tall store houses. Victus had then thanked them and departed, rushing off above the scattered clouds as fast as his wings would take him, leaving the whitetail soldiers to continue on their way.

"Pick up the pace," Caethil ordered. Everyone was eager to return to the fight, to make themselves useful to the cause, especially now that the sound of battle was drawing ever closer. The ponies had launched an offensive that had enveloped much of the city near the castle, judging by the gouts of flame and flashes of magic visible from miles away.

Tearing himself away from the idea of tailing Corvalix had not been easy. Even now, as he busied himself with attack plans and formations, that sneering face was in the forefront of his mind. He imagined the spirits of the dead bucks under his command looking down upon him, disgusted with his cowardice, cursing him for his inaction.

"Once we're within javelin range we'll find an elevated place from which to provide support to the Equestrians. Peliwaan, Scynteryx: you'll stay at a distance until you've exhausted your supplies of arrows. The rest of you will form up with me after our initial volley. With any luck the ponies won't cut us down as we approach. Make sure that Loyalist flag is visible! I didn't come all this way to be run through by a twitchy ally."

Minutes passed as they approached, their hurried pace slowing down enough so that they could hear their surroundings better. The magic-enhanced orders of officers were carried on the wind, and with them came shouts of acknowledgement and the cries of the wounded.

"Not too far now," Caethil said. "Ready your weapons, and keep--"

The squad came to a jostling halt as they rounded a corner, and Caethil found himself face to face with a redtail stag who was equally surprised to find that he'd physically bumped into someone. The crack of magic and singing whine of crystalline swords being drawn was instantaneous as the two soldiers stumbled back from one another. Caethil's squad moved to his flanks, blocking the street and pulling their own weapons in preparation.

To Caethil's confoundment the enemy made no attempt to advance, nor even run. Even more confusingly, he appeared to be completely unescorted. The bars on his neck armor marked him as a Senior Brother-Commander, and an older one at that, if the streaks of grey visible on his muzzle were anything to go by.

"Whitetail, are you?" the enemy officer asked asked, not taking his eyes off the squad for even the briefest of moments.

"Loyalists of the true Whitetail government," Caethil answered. "Have you a death wish, redtail, or are you truly foolish enough to believe you can defeat us all?"

"We don't have time for this," Caethil's second-in-command said quietly. "Let's be done with him and move on."

"Neither," the stag siad, "but I don't expect you to believe me." In the pale moonlight Caethil could make out the shattered outline of his left foreleg armor; he seemed be favoring it heavily, keeping it slightly off the ground. The spiderweb cracks leading out from it were darkened by blood, and his dark green chest plate was marred by a mosaic of chips and dents. "I'm done with all this nonsense." He motioned with his well-worn sword. "Come on then, whitetail. Might as well get this over with quickly."

Caethil did not advance, nor order his bucks to do so. A lone stag, wandering in the dark, a mere arrow's flight from the battle? Something did not add up. "You are alone, Brother-Commander? You are either a fool, or you think to draw me into a trap. I shall not play your game."

The redtail gave a half-hearted laugh that came out as a wheezing, rasping cough. "That's Senior Brother-Commander faen Exemplaaria, thank you. Go ahead, take a look around if you like. Nobody's coming. So do your worst, whatever that might be. I've no fear of death."

"Where are your bucks? Why do you not bring them with you?" Caethil asked.

"Isn't it obvious? They're dead, whitetail. Dead to the last. Damned zebras are fiercer warriors than we'd thought." He spat blood on the street, and as he dipped his head Caethil could see the telltale jagged crater where a zebra war club had smashed through his side armor.

The faltering magic around his bloodied weapon faded entirely, and the sword clattered to the ground as he stumbled against the wall of a nearby building that had been partially reduced to rubble. Caethil motioned for his squad to lower their weapons, but keep them ready.

"Ancestors forgive me," the stag said, not bothering to arm himself again. "Forty-three years of service to Cervidae, and this is what I have to show for it." He looked up at the squad, perhaps realizing that they were unsure of what to do with him. "I didn't even know their names."

Peliwaan grabbed Caethil's attention with a tap on his shoulder. "Sir, we need to keep moving. Shall we grant the Exemplar a quick death?"

"Wait," Caethil answered. "Give me one more moment, then we'll continue on." Cautiously he approached the wounded stag, wary of any tricks. One could never trust a redtail, especially one so loyal as an elite. "Why come this way, Senior Brother-Commander? Would it not be best for a vaunted Exemplar officer to die in combat?"

His only immediate answer was a struggling, wet breath. Seemingly lost within his own thoughts for a time, the stag looked around him in something resembling wonder before finding the strength to speak once more.

"You hate my kind, don't you, whitetail? You wish to drive your blade through my heart. I unquestionably deserve worse."

Caethil shook his head. "I hate Cervidae what it has done; to my home, to my friends. To Equestria. But I do not wish death upon any but Brother-General Corvalix."

A slim smile answered him in turn. "He really is a cunt, isn't he? He and his bitch of a sister make quite the pair. Shame I won't be there to see them burn for what they've done in the name of Cervidae." Slowly and painfully the redtail stood up straight once more. "I've always wanted to see Canterlot. Just look at it. It's not such a bad place to die, is it?"

With a grunt of exertion he began to slowly walk again, limping on three legs. Trickles of blood seeped from his ribs and spattered on the dusty ground. "I hear the view from the rim is spectacular. Ancestors watch over you, good soldiers of Whitetail."

The line parted as he hobbled by, and they watched him until he faded from view and became one with the cold night.

A quick gathering of the squad led them to the conclusion that they needed to find a vantage point from which to survey the ongoing fight, so that they might find a point where they would do the most good. A younger buck volunteered to scramble up the remains of a white stone home, skillfully bounding from outcropping to broken ledge as the others waited impatiently.

"Brother-Captain, sir!" one of Caethil's bucks suddenly spoke up, pointing skyward. A familiar figure flew by overhead, circling their position once and stopping just above. Its ragged cloak billowed behind it, and the crest atop its helm showed the faintest hint of red against the dark skies.

"I believe there might be a change of plans," Caethil said.

The pegasus had returned; hopefully, he thought, with good news.

The melee that surrounded the castle was quickly devolving into an unorganized rabble. What had started as a pinpoint blitz upon the enemy had become bogged down as deer reinforcements poured in from the Coriander Road, trapping many of the civilians in the middle. Those who were able to, in both mind and body, followed the nearest Equestrian squad to anything resembling safety; undamaged buildings, still-standing but crumbling walls, even back the way they'd come, from the mountain tunnels, while the wounded, sickly and the very young were dragged away behind impromptu formations of soldiers. Some chose to fight back, stallion and mare alike, picking up the discarded weapons of the dead in the hopes of pushing through the pockets of Cervidaen forces between them and safety.

The deer were well and truly desperate now. What had seemed an assured victory merely an hour before, with Canterlot Castle cut off and on its last legs, now required every available deer to flood into the city and fight. Quartermasters and cooks, supply runners and orderlies; all took up the sword at the lethal prodding of their senior officers. Near the shattered southern rim Cervidaen siege weapons fired indiscriminately into masses of bodies while conscripts and second-line soldiers rushed past. If the redtail-led army could not win through tactics and deceit, it would do so through weight of numbers. In the confusion and strife few thought to wonder where the empress and her escorts had vanished to, and fewer still were in a position to find out.

As a final surge of deer charged into Equestrian defenses, in a broken and smoldering district that now acted as a choke point, the zebras found themselves doing the heaviest fighting with the backing of their whitetail allies.

Simb'ofu Hunter Dem'be did not know why the redtail had focused on his area above all others. Perhaps they thought it easier to break through the patchwork lines of the less 'traditional' Zevran military. It was true that his people were not ones to form a heavily armored shield wall and hold a position, and the confines of the city were far from ideal for quick flanking maneuvers, but the ground that he had lost was acceptable thus far. After all, he did not need to defeat the deer, only hold them long enough for the ponies to arrive and push them back from the north-west.

"Stay strong, children of Zevran! The spirits guide you this day!" He shouted encouragement as he knocked his staff against the ground, the angular jaws of the hunting cat skull on its tip clacking together and rustling against dull red bloodstone beads. "Mi'folu kikosa kuru'ta!"

"Zev-raan kuru'ta!" his warriors answered as one. A pair of stallions were felled by the jagged throwing spears of the advancing redtail, their stone skin potions having been all but exhausted. Hide shields and matambe wood slat armor covering their chests had proven to be dreadfully ineffective protection. Zebrakind may have been gifted with agility and cunning, but the tactics of the great yellow jungle were of little use now. They had learned to compensate somewhat for this by forcing the deer to come at them in the more open areas, so that they would be surrounded on three sides, and with the help of the Whitetail Loyalist units they were holding on by the skin of their muzzles.

Dem'be picked up a broad-headed spear from a pile beside him and hurled it with all of his might. It arced over the fluid front lines, whistling shrilly as it went, and plunged through the flank armor plate of a redtail that had been rapidly hurling heavy darts at the zebras down the road from him. He tumbled against a wall, thrashing and grasping at the half-exposed tip, briefly attempting to yank it out with his magic before the green glow faded away and he fell still.

There was no time to pray for his soul as Dem'be reached down once more, scanning for his next foe with a look of grim determination. A whitetail and three zebras were cut down mere steps from his position by a deer with dark green armor and a long, heavy sword that cleaved through its victims without so much as a hint of resistance. An Exemplar? The silver etchings in his armor marked him as someone of import, and so Dem'be took aim and sought revenge for his fallen soul-brothers.

The spear bounced off harmlessly, clattering to the ground and skidding to a stop beside the body of a redtail. The Exemplar shouted something in deertongue, drawing a full squad of bucks that charged at Dem'be's position. Dem'be turned in a fit of momentary panic and ran faster than he'd gone in many years, dropping his staff lest it slow him down. He frantically scanned for the nearest allies, finding a group of whitetail across from a fountain that was draped with dead from all sides.

"Fmasa! Koret'u shin'g'ale!" he cried out. He did not know if the deer spoke his language, but his message was received all the same. A few unheard words caused the whitetail loyalists to spread out, ten in total, with their knee blades and swords ready. Pushed on by fear and hope in equal measure, Dem'be sprinted the last few yards to the safety that awaited him.

The whitetail soldiers met the enemy head-on, fearlessly charging in with swift kicks and stabbing into weaker sections of armor to punch through in sprays of bloodied crystal flakes. Not wanting to be seen as helpless or useless, and as soon as he was sure he wouldn't be carved into, Dem'be yanked a curved dagger from his foreleg pouch and deftly sidestepped a weapon aimed at one of the whitetail, then thrust the weapon up into the exposed stomach of his victim. A firm pull to the side showered him with gore as the deer yelled out, collapsing in a heap to clutch at his exposed innards before a whitetail sword silenced him.

"Zeveriin!"

Dem'be leapt back and saw a deer with the markings of a leader and a green Equestrian cloak calling out to him.

"Zeveriin! Taen dwiill caraax'yshaen entaalah?"

Slipping his weapon back into its sheath, he galloped over while looking back over his shoulder. The two sides were fighting bitterly, but the whitetail were giving up ground.

"Ungotu bfal'e Zevrassi, Whittalu?" He hoped the deer understood, but all he got was a shake of the head in return.

"Nett ahn siraa Zeveriir. Siraa Equestrii?"

That was a word he understood. His grasp of the pony language was limited at best, but it would have to do.

"I speak some. No much. Where others?"

The whitetail looked away to the battle momentarily, his ears flicking down in frustration. Whatever he was seeing was not to his liking.

"Some words too. Zebras are falling back. Not holding. Many teryxiin dothwyyl...ah, how is said...new soldier push through one place. Other zebras are fall back to Celestia building. We--"

The whitetail suddenly shoved Dem'be to the side hard enough that he lost his balance and tumbled over. As he scrambled to stand up again he saw two redtail recruits engaged in a fierce melee with his ally. They were dispatched with ruthless efficiency, one stabbed through the throat up into his head and the other felled by a pair of knee blade kicks to the chest. The squad that had thrown themselves into the fray to protect him were almost entirely wiped out already, with half of their number still fighting against an increasing surge of redtail reinforcements.

"Time is short. Know where building is, yes? Do not wait," the whitetail leader said once there was no immediate threat, clutching a bleeding gash along the side of his head. "Others of yours waiting. Join them, or will die this spot with us."

Dem'be hesitated, hoping that somehow he could turn the tide if he stayed.

"Go now! Arthuwaan nyyl!"

The pit in his stomach grew as a fresh wave of redtail charged down the street, so many in number that their shoulder pauldrons were scraping against the sides of buildings. Their torches lit up the surrounding area with green and orange flames, and he feared they would attack him with their horrific fire weapons. Dem'be was not sure he could outrun them again, for his lungs burned and his body had seen better days; yet he had no choice if he wished to live, and so he galloped on with the shouting deer breaking against the remaining whitetail like a roaring wave that barely slowed. Glinting crystalline spears shot past his head and tumbled end over end alongside barbed darts that flitted by with barely perceptible flashes of moonlight. Desperation took hold and gave him the strength needed to keep moving, keep living, yet his spirit was dashed against the rocks when a second force of redtail bucks came charging through an Equestrian line between him and the castle. He turned right at T-shaped intersection, finding a hoof-full of zebras who appeared lost and terrified.

"With me, brothers of Zevran!" he shouted as he approached, and soon their small kikosa had grown to over twenty strong. Yet even that brought little comfort, for the redtail were not even half a block from them. Squads of ponies urged them on and took up defensive formations to give them time, knowingly placing themselves in harm's way against overwhelming numbers. It mattered little how skilled or strong the Equestrians were, for it was simply a matter of time before they were swept up by the inexperienced blades of their enemies.

Dem'be and his zebras came to a sudden stop as their route was cut off by an equal force of redtail. The deer hesitated at the sight of him, keeping their weapons up but not advancing. He noticed that most of them were not wearing any armor, and only a few had helms or chest plates. They looked barely old enough to be called bucks.

They were enemies all the same, and so the zebras drew their weapons and cautiously spread out, staying alert for any others that might try to ambush them from the side.

Flanking attacks quickly proved to be the least of their concerns. Seconds later the young bucks were joined by trio of older, much better-equipped stags who berated them for their cowardice, prodding them to move with their blades.

Dem'be prepared himself for what would likely be his death. There was nowhere left to run, no way out that wouldn't be blocked off by the deer in short order.

"If we must join the ancestors today, warriors of Zevran, then let us greet them with no regrets!"

The redtail advanced towards him just as a solitary silhouette high above passed in front of the moon. He found himself fascinated by the sight, a final moment of wonder before his life was sure to be taken. The figure stopped in the air, hovering in place with powerful flaps of its long wings.

"Zev-raan bale bimb'osa!" one of the stallions shouted, slamming his war staff into the ground.

"Zev-raan kuru'ta! Kuru'ta!"

With a final glance to the heavens he prayed that he had lived a good life, a life his fore-bearers would be proud of, and he threw himself at death with a smile -- just as the sky overhead filled with unmistakable forms diving in from the mountain tops.