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That Time I Stopped the Invasion of Canterlot, Part 5 (Conclusion)
🕑 Added 2024-09-11 04:06:21 +0000 UTCTo be fair, the cello they brought me was a very fine one, although I did have to send them back for a pitch pipe, a bow and some resin. I felt guilty even as I applied the resin to the bow and began tuning the instrument, although that guilt quickly vanished as I noticed how every shining blue eye in the swarm surrounding me stared in rapt attention at something as simple as tuning an instrument. Of course I didn't make the strings squeal- I am a professional, thank you, and even in tuning I maintain a mellow and even tone in my playing. But even that seemed to fascinate them no end. I suppose their opportunities for higher culture were quite limited, being monsters and all.
As I finished tuning, which didn't take long- the most minor of adjustments, really, the shopkeeper knew his craft- two of the monsters escorted a third to stand next to me. This one looked much like the rest except for the back-armor, which to my surprise turned out to be a sort of second pair of wings, much like a beetle's. These had a peculiar curve to them and a cutout in each which looked remarkably like the resonator holes in the instrument I held at the moment. The actual wings, as well, looked remarkably large, with a thicker membrane and, unlike every other bug-monster around me, no holes at all.
Obviously this was Fiddlewing, and equally obviously his instrument was himself. And, equally obviously, he had at least a little skill if his comrades thought him suitable as a challenge to me. So be it, I thought, and put bow to strings, beginning with a measure of eighth notes in descending steps as a first test.
The two pairs on Fiddlewing's back moved, and, one octave higher, the same notes came out in perfect pitch and cadence. The tone, though, wasn't much like a violin, not to my ears. I have, on a couple of unfortunate occasions, been forced to endure the performances of those who apply a bow to a bent wood saw, with shall we say varying levels of virtuosity. Fiddlewing's sound came about midway between that and a proper string instrument, a most uncanny effect, but unlike most saw players' work, he didn't have to fumble around for the note. He hit them all perfectly.
Next I performed the first two measures of a sweet lullabye popular around Ponyville, although in recent times ponies have begun playing it at double-time to turn it into some sort of adventure ballad.
The thing about that particular song is, the third measure is the same as the first, and Fiddlewing replicated it note for note. But then, instead of repeating the second measure, he played the fourth, and as he did so he knocked his forelegs together to make a sound like a woodblock- not just calling out a time, but calling out the modern quick-step instead of the lullabye. He was taking the challenge and throwing it back at me.
Well, I prefer the lullabye to the modern beat, but that doesn't mean I can't play it.
What resulted was about a twenty-second echo duet as we rushed through an entire verse of the song. As the first player, I started out with the dull call-out part of the song, while Fiddlewing had the much more interesting callback, but rather than give him the trick I played a rapid little series of arpeggios under his part for harmony. He seamlessly did the same for me a measure later, and then we swapped roles again once more before the section of the song which modern performers have turned into a breakdown.
Here we each took turns improvising half-measure solos based on the simple notes of the original song. We each gave as good as we got, escalating the complexity and rapidity of the notes, until finally, playing as one, we produced a dizzying ascending glissando leading into the restatement of the theme and the conclusion of the verse, which we concluded, if I might say so myself, in perfect harmony.
The swarm of monsters on the roofs and walls around us erupted into cheering and earth-shaking applause, and only a few moments passed before the shout of, "More!" began to go up.
The question was, what? The old cello standards, to be honest, are dull to the plebeian ear. The most popular, of course, is a certain piece for string quartet in which the cello, as the deepest-voiced instrument, is forced to play a repeating canon of eight notes while the other three players each get (unjustly) the more fulfilling parts. Furthermore, I had little doubt at this point that, if I began any of those, Fiddlewing could easily not just match it but improve upon it.
Then I remembered that one time my roommate lost a bet to me. Vinyl is best known for her electronic creations, but she does have a foundation in more traditional keyboard and strings, and one time I chose, as forfeit for her loss, that she would put on a recital with me playing another cello, with nothing electrical within reach at all. I had, out of a certain gloating generosity, allowed her to pick the first song, which ended up also being the last song because the performance was of such a vigor that it destroyed both instruments.
(It wasn't my good instrument, thankfully. I swapped out the instant I read Vinyl's sheet music.)
I took a moment to add more rosin to the bow, and I said another silent apology to the shop owner whose merchandise I was about to sacrifice for another four minutes out of captivity. Then, with a deep breath, I went into the opening frantic riffs which open the song, which was based off a unicorn rock standard which, ostensibly, described first love, but whose lyrics and explosive tone were popular among pegasi for their weather references.
Fiddlewing cocked his head at me. For about thirty seconds his wings twitched randomly as my right hoof slung the bow across the strings while my left frantically slapped at fret-points up and down half the length of the neck. (It's a very athletic song for a cello player.)
Then a smile appeared on his muzzle, his wings and wing-covers took on a determined pose, and he played two notes.
Two deep, BOOMING notes.
And for the part, the correct two deep, booming notes.
And, at the appropriate time a few measures later, again.
Yes, he knew the song. And as a growing number of the monsters around us began clapping their hooves to the beat, it became obvious that so did they.
Which was fine by me- because I'd laid a trap. The song had a false first chorus, substituting a pizzicato series in which one of the players had to pluck the strings of their instrument. And, by taking the rhythm part and leaving the melody to Fiddlewing, I'd left him with the conundrum of figuring out how to pluck "strings" rising from his own back.
So we played on, energetically, and I saw the hairs part one by one from the bow I was using. I saw the dark wing-covers on Fiddlewing's back begin to glow at the rubbing edges. And we exchanged lick for lick, tone for counter, quite loud and quite proud if I do say so myself. Several of the audience even began singing the lyrics along with Fiddlewing's playing. I thought I had the house- and the game- right in my hooves.
And then the call-and-answer part just before the false chorus came, Fiddlewing wringing out high but resonant notes, I pulling the deepest tones possible out of my malapropriated instrument. Three measures... two measures... and then I played the four notes which, I thought, would leave Fiddlewing nowhere to go.
You know, I wonder what he would have done had not the entire courtyard lit up with a blast of green magic and a hissing shout that brought everything to a screeching halt: "WHAT IS THIS NONSENSE??"
All sound CEASED, except for the buzzing of another of those monsters descending to the courtyard next to me. This one wasn't like Ichneumon or Cetonius, or indeed like any of the other nearly indistinguishable creatures around me. He stood a little larger than the average bug-monster, not as tall as Ichneumon and definitely not as massive as Cetonius, but scarier than either. His body was all sharp edges, from his fangs and teeth to his head-fin down to his tail. Instead of the surprisingly warm blue eyes of most of the swarm, his were a dark, malevolent purple that glared at me for but an instant, but that was more than enough to send my hindquarters to the dirt from sheer terror.
(No, I didn't drop the cello. When I'm that far gone you may send for a priest. I set it down nice and gently, and I laid the bow next to it. After all, two of the strings might still be salvageable.)
After that one glance at me, he slowly turned a full circle to give every single bug around us his disapproving glare. At this point there were a few thousand- the rooftops were covered for a block to all sides of that restaurant courtyard- and every last monster was trying not to quake on their hooves. "I gave orders to secure every pony in this city," he growled as he came close to completing the full circle. "And yet I see here a pony not only loose," and he jabbed a hoof at me as he said this, "but actively wasting the time of a large portion of our invasion force playing... music."
"Yeah!" one monster in the audience shouted. "And she's really good!"
I adjusted my estimate of the average intelligence of these monsters downwards another notch.
"Explain to me, Katy," the scary monster growled, "in what way does being good at playing music make a pony invincible? Why are you not attacking her!"
"We did!"
"She took out two of us, then two at once, then four at once!"
"She beat up Aphodine!"
"She took out Ichneumon!"
"We wanted her to fight Cetonius next, but she wouldn't let us. Said it was cruel!"
That last line got me another look from the all-edges monster, but this one wasn't a glare. I don't know exactly what it was, but a glare it definitely was not. Then he sighed, pulled himself up, and said, "And somehow this led to music."
"Well, yeah! She's a musician!"
"She said so herself!"
"And she's really good!"
"I wanna hear her play Tubkicking next!"
(I don't know that particular song yet, so if the fiddle-off hadn't been called off, I would have been in trouble. More so, I mean.)
This was apparently the straw that broke the donkey's back. "THERE ARE THOUSANDS OF YOU AND ONE OF HER!!" he shouted. "WHY IS SHE NOT IN A POD?"
"The queen said we could go feed!" This shout got an echo of agreement from the monsters around the speaker.
"And we're playing with our food!" Louder cheers of agreement.
"Play 'The Candymare Can!'"
(That song I know, but 'Absolute Creation' from the same musical is the far superior track.)
Again the scary monster sighed and shook his head. "No one is playing ANYTHING!" he said, not quite shouting this time. Turning to me, he asked, "Seriously, how many of my drones did you defeat?"
"Eight," I replied quietly. "The two-at-once is an exaggeration."
"But not the four at once?"
"I got lucky." Which was quite true.
"No pony should be able to do that with any amount of luck," the edged monster said. "Which means I shall have to drill them harder in teamwork."
"I don't believe they understand the concept."
Another sigh. "Don't I know it," he said. "Which is why I'm going to end this foolishness myself." He looked back up at the crowd and shouted, "And THEN you're all going to conduct a street-by-street sweep of this city and make absolutely certain this time that every pony outside the palace is secured! For all we know their guard may already have reinforcements on the way! Am I understood?"
A soft muttering from several thousand voices can be quite loud, especially if the voices have a built-in hiss.
"I CAN'T HEAR YOU!!"
This time the hiss became words, more or less boiling down to, "Yes, Commander Pharynx."
"Good. Now watch! THIS is how you dispose of a pony's resistance."
When he looked at me again it wasn't the glare, and it wasn't the complicated look, nor was it the calculating gaze he gave me when he was asking questions. This time it was a simple, stony expression that said in no uncertain terms: I am going to put you down in the most efficient manner possible.
And that look was certainly right. I got to all four hooves only because he allowed me to do so- there was no hesitation, no weakness in his posture whatever. He outweighed me, and he almost certainly was my better in skill, and I was still sore and tired from all that had gone on before. I wasn't going to surrender, but there was simply no way I was going to win this fight.
I saw his hind legs tense for the pounce.
And that's when the glowing pink wall of magic swept through the courtyard and picked up Commander Pharynx, Fiddlewing, and all the other thousands of monsters and hurled them into the sky, along with thousands more from throughout the city. I heard the scream of one particularly large one- I assume that was the queen they mentioned- before distance faded it to nothing.
The invasion was over. Somehow or other I'd tied up a considerable number of invaders, distracting them from other deviltry in the city, until such time as (as we all now know) Princess Cadance and Captain Shining Armor's love purged the creatures from not just Canterlot but all Equestria. (I am given to understand there are a small number of exceptions, but I trust the guard has everything well in hoof where those dreadful creatures are concerned.)
Possibly I could have helped search the city for ponies trapped by the invaders, but I had just had a very trying hour or so, and my lunch had been entirely ruined. So I picked up the items stolen from the music store, spent about fifteen minutes finding it, and put them back through the broken window, and then went to the palace to see if Vinyl could get me an early trip to the wedding reception buffet.
That concludes my statement, except to say that I am glad that my desperate actions helped to defeat the invaders, that I am honored to have served my part, and that under no circumstances do I wish to ever be put in that position again.
After all, I never had the opportunity to panic even once.
Comments
Taki Kogoma
> "a bow and some resin" "rosin". (Yes, the stuff is made of resin, but that's the word from the sticky stuff.)
Kris Overstreet
Idol Hooves, and also Changeling Scout. (The comic itself is not CSP-canon, but I did adopt its main character as "Uncle Pointy" (Fossorius).)
Edward Parker
Who says cellos cannot rock? Poor Pharynx, he has to deal with so many idiots.
Andrew Denton
THUNDERSTRUCK! Also, stealth Idol reference?
