The Dragon Master

by Cantus

Eight - Day Of The Dragonfather

Applejack had fled from the Chimera, and such had been her fear that she ran for hours, through track and glade, over bush and under branch, not stopping until the sun had set and Luna's moon began to creep its way into the sky.

At last, the adrenaline pounding through her relented, and she felt the fear ebb. She panted, trying to catch her breath. Precious oxygen flowed into her, replacing that which had been lost. Slowly, she began to calm down.

Once she had a handle on herself, thought and reason began to return. She looked around her, and realised that she was alone. A spike of fear shot through her as she realised that - she was alone, in the Everfree Forest! Immediately she began to shiver - she'd been told from when she was a little filly that this was not a place that welcomed ponies. The presence of a large group of others had been the main reason why she hadn't panicked yet, and now they were gone...

There was a rustle in the undergrowth, and suddenly Granny Smith's stories about this place came back all at once. Another rustle. Applejack felt her legs tremble again. The idea of a pack of timberwolves jumping out at her was starting the adrenaline again. She backed away slowly from the source of the rustling, and took a deep breath, to steady herself for whatever might happen.

***************

The Staff made its way through the undergrowth, oblivious to the rustling it was causing. It was close to its destination, and that was all its mind could hold. Move. It had to move.

It slammed against something. It turned its gaze upward, and vaguely made out the equine shape standing before it.
Immediately it reared backwards, trying to put distance between it and the horse-thing. The Runes on its side flickered as the energy flowed through different routes, changing its abilities.

A special Rune on its side lit up, in brilliant blue instead of the usual red. Power began to flow...

***************

Applejack was filled with fear and relief in equal measure. On one hoof, she was staring down a rattler, which was bad. On the other, she'd been expecting something much worse. She thought to herself, trying to reassure herself.

"Come on, Applejack! You can handle a little ol' snake! You've tangled with manticores, this should be nothin'!"

She took stock of the situation. It wasn't rattling, which meant it didn't want to scare her off. That in turn meant it planned on either fleeing or attacking. She hoped it was the former, but she'd been taught not to take chances. She stood, front knee bended, tense and ready to leap if it tried to lunge at her.

An crackling sensation filled the air, and a bolt of flame burst from the snake's mouth. Applejack leapt backwards by instinct, narrowly avoiding the blast. She stared in disbelief at the patch of charred soil that she'd been standing on mere moments ago.

What in the world was this thing? It sure as anything wasn't a rattlesnake.

She edged backwards. Now that she knew it had a ranged attack, everything had changed. Keeping her distance wasn't going to matter anymore, and attacking head-on still didn't look like a good idea. Still, she had to do something...

It did not give her any more time to think. It reared back and hissed, its cry ringing throughout the forest.

It began to light up again, white light flickering off of the leaves of the under-canopy. The orange pony knew what that meant this time. She leapt out of the way, avoiding the firebolt as it scorched another patch of earth.

Even though it had missed her, she could still feel the heat coming from the crater. She had no doubt about what would happen to her if she were to be hit by one of them.

***************

It began to fill with something akin to rage. This creature, this equine, did not belong to the world as The Staff understood it.
When Tena-Lin was brought to bear, the enemy was destroyed. That was how the world worked. How could this...thing be attacked, but not destroyed? No matter. It would simply bring more power to bear against the intruder.

***************
Applejack felt her heart pound as the air began to crackle yet again. Blue light pushed the darkness away, before a spear of fire jumped towards her, pushing the air out of its way with the force of its passing. Her instincts had served her well so far, and continued to do so- she ducked, and the bolt passed overhead. Her back burned intensely, a strip of her orange coat burned black by the closeness of the blast.

That was painful, but she had other things to worry about. The creature had grown impatient and, seeing what it thought was an opportunity, it rushed towards her, fangs bared. She chose to leap to the side. She wasn't fast enough. The thing caught her in the leg, digging into the flesh of her front right thigh. She grimaced as a dull pain rose in her leg...then stopped.

The creature's fangs were made of wood - of course they couldn't do much damage. However, that had not been its plan. It began to glow again. The terrifying realisation dawned on the orange pony. From this range, missing her would be literally impossible. She had but a moment to do something, or she would be burned to a crisp.

She shook her leg wildly, trying to dislodge the creature, but its fangs had sunken deep enough to keep it anchored. She began to panic.

"Think of somethin', Applejack!" she thought to herself.

Raising her front left hoof, she brought it down hard on top of the creature's head. There was a loud crack as hoof met wood. The creature was unfazed, the blue light continuing to crawl slowly up the length of its body. Desperate, she slammed it again and again, the noise resonating loudly in the night air.

It wasn't good enough. She was going to...

An image flashed before her eyes.

***************
Eight ponies were seated around a roaring fire. She could see them clearly - five of her friends, and three of her family.

Apple Bloom was turned to Granny Smith, who was comforting the poor filly.

"G-Granny...Applejack's comin' home, isn't she?"

The pain in the old mare's eyes was unmistakeable. She wanted very much to say yes, that Applejack would come home. Yet lying to her own flesh and blood, to cover up something she'd discover someday anyway...

What could she do?

"Well, little'un, y'see..."

The yellow filly looked up at her grandmother, her eyes filled with tears.

"S-see what?"

Granny Smith grit her teeth. She braced herself, and spoke the words she'd prayed never to have to utter.

"Applejack's not comin' back".

***************

Rage, hot and powerful, flooded the orange mare's body. Her family wasn't going to have to suffer that! Not because of some measly snake!

Powered by fury and desperation, the next strike was true. The wood, softened by water and wear, was ill-suited to withstanding brute force. She had struck the weakest point, where the rot had begun to take hold. Under the critical blow, the shaft splintered, a crack running across the width of it, cleaving the head from the body.

***************

The light faded from the Runes. The link was broken, and the energy had nothing to direct it. Naturally, then, it simply escaped, via the path of least resistance - the air. There was a bright flash, as the magic flowing through it dissipated harmlessly.

Applejack blinked away the bright spots from her eyes, trying to come to terms with what had happened.

She looked around, and saw the now-headless serpent lying on the ground, light fading from it as it began to look more and more like a piece of deadwood.

She sighed in relief. Now that that was taken care of, she could begin to...

The adrenaline began to wear off. As that happened, a dull, throbbing pain reasserted itself in her foreleg. She looked down and noticed the thing's severed head, jaws frozen shut in her flesh.

She grimaced - that was an ugly sight. She brought her head down and fixed her teeth around the eyesore. She pulled back, her neck muscles straining as they tried to dislodge the thing. Slowly, painfully, it began to give way, until at last the fangs were pulled from her leg. She kicked the severed head across the clearing, glad to be rid of it.

She sighed and began to properly survey her surroundings. Now that that thing was out of the way, she needed to get back to the other ponies as soon as possible. She didn't want to have any more encounters with the Forest's beasts, and the best safety lay in numbers. Even so, her train of thought kept getting dragged back to that thing. What was it? She'd never heard of snakes that could shoot lightning bolts before...

Then again, the Forest had lightning trees, so why couldn't it have lightning animals too? She shook her head. This wasn't getting her anywhere. She had to focus. She didn't have the time to indulge idle speculation. Even so, something niggled at the back of her mind. As the seconds ticked slowly by, some switch in her memory flipped on. What was it Twilight had said?

Applejack's eyes widened as she realised just what had happened. Twilight said she had been attacked by someone holding a serpent-headed staff. The same staff they'd all gone into the woods to search for. The same one she'd just broken...

This was wonderful news! If she could bring the thing back to the main group, it'd bring them much closer to their goal! Perhaps being attacked by that huge red beast hadn't turned out so bad after all...

The rustling of the grass was the only warning. Her ears pricked up when she heard it, and she whipped around to face whatever was behind her.

"Yer not trickin' me twice, ya-"

The severed wooden head glared up at her as its decapitated body writhed towards it. Before she could react, the head bit into the body.

Was it attacking itself? More importantly, how was it still alive? Applejack adopted a fighting stance once more. She became aware of her own heartbeat again, as blood pumped rapidly around her body. If she had to do this again, she would.

She didn't get the chance. There was a flash of bright, blue light, blinding the orange mare. When she finally blinked the green spots away from her vision, the snake was gone, only a rustling sound behind her betraying its location. She turned in time to see it slink into the bushes, just before it slipped from her sight.

***************
This was not good. Disbelief, or something like it, smouldered inside the staff as it clung on to its own body for dear life. To not only be defeated, but crushed.... It tried to stop feeling. It was not dead yet. The mission was more important. The mission was the only thing that mattered. Its eyes glowed faintly, picking up the faint, glowing outline of An-Bel. It slithered on, task in mind.
***************
Though the revitalising power of the Runes removed Gravil's need for sleep, he still found himself oddly tired. Thus, he had retired to a dark corridor, and leant against the walls to rest. As his eyelids closed, he felt his other senses broaden. He could hear the wet plunks of water droplets, dripping from dark archways down to the tiled floors. He could smell the latent magic in the air, the halls infused with the effects of centuries of Rune-research. All these senses could, perhaps, be found in other places - assuming anyone else had the patience and wit needed to master Runecraft. However, there was one feeling that could only be found here. It permeated every inch of this place, from the mighty pillars to the humble scratch-ridden floor-tiles. He sighed, and then breathed deeply, drawing the feeling into himself.

Majesty. The feeling that someone, something grand had once lived here. A feeling that these past-things were greater than oneself. A feeling that they were strong, strong enough perhaps to fight against the modern world, against everything that was wrong...

Gravil exhaled sharply as he felt the shock. Something important had...broken. His eyes widened as he realised what that must mean. The Staff. Fear began to rise in him. Could it really have happened? He began to panic. The Staff was too powerful for them to break...wasn't it? She shook his head. Of course it was! How could mere beasts destroy an agent of Olni's will? Impossible, impossible!

He stopped, his mind detecting something. Small, very small...

Yet it was there. A small spark of life, of movement. The Staff was broken, but it was not dead. Relief flooded into him. It was not over yet. Still, this was very...worrying. Their hopes were alive, but hanging on an uncomfortably thin thread. Should he go out and reclaim the Staff, to ensure it remained safe? That seemed like a good idea, but then again, the Forest would be crawling with equines. There was a brief struggle of emotions within him as pride fought with reason. Should he go out? Of course he should - why would a brave servant of Olni be afraid? Then the fierce pride relented, as an image came to mind. The Prince. The Prince needed to be watched, and instructed, and there was precious little time left to do it.

That reminded him. There was one piece of the story he had not yet told. Well, several pieces technically, but only one that was important. Gravil had left the little dragon in the Treasury - the place was an ample bed for any Dragon. As he mumbled the short incantation that opened the Treasury door, he wondered. What did the Prince think of all that had happened? The sudden change of pace could not have been easy on him. Regardless, it was better this way. He should be here, with his ancestors.

***************
Spike was having trouble sleeping. Not that that was a surprise. He'd never have thought that he'd come up against a problem that a massive pile of gemstones couldn't make him feel better about, but it seemed there was a first time for everything. The arrangement of stones felt uncomfortable beneath him. He tossed and turned, unable to rest.

The bed wasn't really the problem, he knew that much. His mind would not allow him to sleep. He knew his friends were outside this place, searching for him. That in itself wasn't a bad thing. The problem was that he didn't know what was happeningto them. They'd be in the middle of the forest,and it would be dark, and-there-would-probably-be-monsters-at-this-time-of-night-and-what-if-somepony-got-chewed-up-by-a-Manticore-and...

His head began to spin as his imagination ran wild. He curled up into a ball and tried to push the horrid images out of his mind, to no avail.
***************

Twilight felt a shudder run down her spine, as if something horrible was happening, but she couldn't see what it was. Its cold feeling broke her concentration. She shook her head - she couldn't allow herself to be distracted from what she was doing. Focus. That was the way that Spike would be saved. And save him she would. Her dream was not going to come true, it was not, it was not...

She stopped herself - she was doing it again. Stay calm. It was like Celestia had said - if she stayed calm, she would be able to see this through. She took deep breaths, as if she could somehow flush the worry out of her system. Eventually, she managed to calm herself enough that she could think again. It was a good thing, too, as an armoured unicorn trotted up o her, carrying a sheaf of paper alongside him.

“Miss Sparkle?” said the guardspony.

“Yes?” she replied.

The guardspony motioned to the slip of paper, and she plucked it out of his magical grasp.

She glanced at it.

“Team A...all members reporting in...”

Ah. This was the roster! She’d been waiting for this to get back to her.

She thanked the unicorn, who trotted back to his unit. She barely noticed, as she was focussing on the words in front of her.

The results were good. Few casualties and no fatalities. One of said casualties caught her eye - Unit J, member missing. Name: Applejack. Her blood chilled. One of her friends was missing. She tried to calm herself.

“Just...just...stay calm. Nothing good can come of panic. Stay calm. Nothing good can...”

She repeated the words her mentor had taught her like a mantra, as if they would ward off the fears that preyed upon her. She paced worriedly, walking in a circle, retracing her own hoofsteps in the mud of the forest floor as the fear and the words wrestled furiously for supremacy. What was she going to do? She had promised to tell Rainbow if anything had happened, but she was so hard-headed... She would almost certainly fly off to look for her, and that would make two friends running around in the Forest and...

“Erm, excuse me? Miss Sparkle?”

She drew a deep breath and turned to face the voice. It was a colt, not much older than her.

“The parties are moving out. It would be...inadvisable to remain behind.”

Hearing those words helped. Suddenly she remembered the big picture. They had to save Spike, and stop Gra-Vil. Applejack was no fool. She’d probably be able to keep herself out of harm’s way, at least for a little while. Besides, maybe they’d be able to find her if they went forward...

That did it.

“Thank you. I’ll be going now.”

Saying those words helped solidify her resolve. They would keep going. Forward was the best way. She just hoped that this would end before anypony died...

********

The six ponies stood proud, their bright coats a stark contrast to the grey stones of Anbel. Facing them, across the room, eyes glinting like fire, stood the wyrm. The Runes, formed in the images of those long dead, cast their gaze over the scene. Without warning, a high screech rang out, as if from the walls, shaking the stones. Energised by the sounds of approval, the cloaked wyrm dashed forward, arms raised, claws forward. The six barely had time to react before he reached them, shrieking like a wyrm possessed...

There was a flash. The world flickered in front of Spike’s eyes for a few seconds, his eyelids fluttering like panicked butterflies.

“Uuuh...”

He must have been more tired than he had thought, if he’d actually managed to fall asleep. He rubbed his eyes, as if that would brush the weariness from them. These dreams were really starting to wear on him, but he couldn’t deny they’d made him think. They’d started yesterday and hadn’t let up yet, waiting for him every time he shut his eyes. He had begun thinking, because of what he had seen. What should he do? What would he do if he felt a conflict of loyalties?

He shook his head viciously as he realised just what he was thinking? What conflict? Had he been so shocked by the last few days that he’d forgotten what Gravil was? The mad wyrm had kidnapped him and killed Twilight! Spike stared at the stone walls surrounding him. He was trapped inside of them because of Gravil! Why was he even thinking of supporting him?

However, even as he decried the thought, another one struck him. He felt a twinge of sympathy for the old coot. He really did seem to believe what he was saying. As well as that, what about all this Dragon Kingdom stuff? Spike shook his head again. He still couldn’t quite grasp it.

“Me? A Prince? Really?”

Urgh. This deep thinking stuff was hard work. He lay down again. He dipped his hand into the massive gem-pile underneath it, and plucked out a handful of stones. He popped them into his mouth. They were delicious. He savoured the rich, juicy flavour, letting it seep through his whole body...

Nothing. A few days ago there was nothing that that wouldn’t have cheered him up from. Now he still felt empty. Thoughts began to turn over and over in his mind, stewing away until they formed into an uncomfortable mess.

Thankfully for him, it was not long before his thoughts were interrupted.

“My Lord?”

Spike filled with an odd mix of emotions. He wasn’ exactly happy to see Gravil, but it was happening anyway, and it would mean something to distract him from these horrible thoughts. He was grateful for that much, at least.

“Yeah, what is it?”

The wyrm bowed apologetically.

“I apologise for disturbing you My Lord, but I must insist that you rise now.”

Spike stifled a yawn.

“What’s this all about?”

Gravil began to speak again.

“You have heard much of the Lay of Olni these past few days, but there is one more piece that you must hear yet.”

Spike sighed. He didn’t really feel in the mood for stories right now.

“I don’t really feel like it. Can we do this tomorrow, or something?”

Gravil’s eyes narrowed.
“I wish that we had the time, My Lord, but by then it will be too late”.

Spike groaned in protest.

Suddenly, he felt a bony hand grasp his wrist.

“No, My Lord. You owe your ancestors this much, at least”.

Spike began to protest.

“But-”

Gravil snapped back.

“Not a word! This is too important!”

Spike resigned himself to his fate, at least for the time being.

Time passed slowly for the two. Gravil dragged Spike through halls and past doors, the little dragon’s claws scraping the floor in protest all the while.

Finally, they stopped at a massive pair of doors. Spike let out a sigh exasperation. It was almost as if whoever had built this place only knew how to make one kind of door. Gravil stopped and muttered something unpleasant-sounding under his breath.

“Olni’s name, I forgot about the lock!”

The wyrm pulled Spike forward, pressing the little dragon’s palm into the cold surface.

“H-hey! Whaddya think you’re doi-” Spike blurted.

Gravil turned to his charge and said “They don’t allow just anyone into Galdor’s Chambers.”

Gravil turned to the door, whispering. Spike heard:

Olni’s Eyes are our Guardian, His Wings our refuge.

Something was bothering Spike.

“What’s up with all these weird sentences, anyway? How did anyone remember all these? What if you forgot one?”

There was a cold edge in the wyrm’s voice as he responded.
“They are here to protect us. Anyone careless enough to forget the Ley Of Olni deserves to be locked out until they learn to be more diligent. And I most certainly will not forget.”

Spike persisted in his questioning, seeing that Gravil clearly didn’t like it.

“But what if you forget which one goes where? What then?”

The old wyrm raised his voice.

“No more questions!”

The journey continued in this fashion, Gravil curtly rebuffing all of Spike’s questions, until finally the wyrm stopped.

“We have arrived”.

A confused look crossed Spike’s face.

Gravil noticed this.

“Surprised, My Lord?”

“I guess I just expected something...fancier.”

The room they had arrived in was plain, black granite, with a small pit dug in the center. But for the image of Olni-the-Sun-Holder carved into one of the walls, it would have been indistinguishable from any other cave.

Gravil chuckled.

“Galdor wouldn’t want anything opulent in his personal living space. He gets enough of that in his public life. This is supposed to be a place for the most important things.”

Spike only understood some of what Gravil had said, but he nodded anyway.

Gravil continued on.

“Besides, the jewels were taken after the War, along with everything else that caught their eyes.”

That caught Spike’s attention.

“War? They?”

Gravil snapped to attention, suddenly reminded of his task.

“Ah, yes. Important though this place is, I did not bring you here simply to see it. Do you recall where we were in the narrative of our People?”

Spike thought for a moment.

“I think Renka had just...”

Spike’s voice trailed off. He hadn’t known Renka, obviously, hadn’t even heard of her until a few days ago, but Gravil’s telling of her story had been so emotionally charged that Spike felt squeamish even mentioning her fate.

Gravil relieved him of the duty of continuing that sentence.

“Yes, yes. After the confrontation at Iktena, the dead horde collapsed. The Army of Kings, though battered, was victorious. Yet their victory was bittersweet. There were many losses that day, not the least of which was Renka herself. There was some debate as to what should be done with her remains, but the King ruled that it be left where it was, an eternal monument to the evil of the Cri-Es. Personally, I think he simply wanted to feel that he was, in some small way, keeping his oath.”

The wyrm drew a deep breath and went on.

“Regardless of that, we must go on. The hatchlings who Renka had stolen and corrupted had a more complicated fate, but their story is not for today. Galdor’s reign lasted for another three years, at which point he died. His younger son took up the crown and the Royal Name.”

Gravil sighed deeply. When next he spoke, his tone was deeply reverential.

“Galdor III was...different to his predecessors. It is not for me to divine the minds of my betters, but I think he must have suffered from some feeling of crippling inferiority. You see, the first King was ordained personally by Olni, and the second proved his worth at the Battle of Iktena. He, on the other hand, had inherited power by default. He was King-by-Mistake, the runt who fell into the throne.”

Gravil took one of his usual pauses before continuing.

“Twenty-six years into the reign of Galdor III, I hatched.”

Try as he might, Spike simply couldn’t picture Gravil as an infant. Still, that sounded like it would be good for another story.

“What was that like?” asked the purple dragon.

The old wyrm’s eyes glazed over with happiness.

“Ah, life in the hatchery was wonderful. The Broodmothers tended to us all, each one of us their child, each one of them our parent. There were sleeping-pits, lined with soft soil, and sometimes even straw, brought in from aboveground. We were kept warm by a roaring fire. The fire was lit every night, and during the day too if it was particularly cold. We were all siblings, and it was...”

The wyrm shook himself out of his trance, as he remembered the importance of his mission.

“...but that is also a story for another day. Perhaps I will tell you more of it after tomorrow.”

He went on.

“The years passed, without anything important enough to mention here. That is, until The Lethargy.”

He shivered even to mention the name.

“The Lethargy came upon us like a thief in the night. The first sure sign that something was wrong came at Olni-Sa. You remember what I said about Olni-Sa?”

Spike scratched his head.

“Something about...Olni...”

Gravil took on an expression of exasperation.

“Yes, My Lord. It commemorates Olni’s departure from this world, and is the most mournful day of the year.Regardless, something was...different that year. The Wilders had been behaving oddly, flying over our lands in flagrant defiance of the Statutes of Dominion. However, they did not listen to our protests, nor did they linger long enough to be punished. They would come, and they would go, across the Western Ridge like the setting sun.”

He paused briefly before going on.

“At first we were puzzled as to what this could mean, but as more and more of them began to wing their way over our lands we began to grow suspicious. Surely there must be some reason for so many dragons to exert so much effort? At Olni-Sa that year, it became very clear...”

It was at this point that Gravil did that thing Spike had come to know him for, that strange way he had of putting such life into a tale that it seemed entirely real. He sat down and listened, as the story came to life...

********

The crowd was assembled. The Wyrms were huddled on the ridge beneath the Peak, the Wyverns circled overhead. Most of the Nobles had turned out for the formalities too. The mountain was covered with reds, greens, and blues, and their scales began to glitter slightly as the sun’s fading light pattered down onto them. The scene was set. All they needed was their King.

Galdor trembled with anticipation. By all rights, he shouldn’t have been worried. This was hardly his first time performing the Ceremony of Departure - he’s done it for decades by this point. Yet something troubled him. A feeling of inexplicable discomfort had settled deep in his stomach these past few days, and he’d read enough legends to know that was usually an ill omen. He had consulted Gra-Vil about it once, but the spirited young wyrm had simply told him to place his faith in the Dragonfather. Galdor sighed. Just like him to trust his superiors. Then again, he really shouldn’t complain about that - true, burning devotion to Olni was one of the finest traits an Advisor could possess.

A tap on his shoulder drew him out of his thoughts. A beautiful green Dragon stared at him. He spent a moment admiring her lithe tail, before she spoke again.

“Come on, Sen-Ri. The people need their King. You wouldn’t want to be seen shirking your royal duty, would you?”

A wry smile crossed his face.

“You know, if you weren’t my wife, I could have you exiled for that.”

She smirked back.

“Too bad that I am your wife, then.”

They exchanged glances for a moment, before she snapped at him again.

“Go on, now! You wouldn’t want to miss the sunset, would you?.”

He sighed.

“Fine, fine.”

He walked towards the door that opened out onto the peak. Ka-Ma was right. He had to be a King today. Even if it was just ceremony, the people needed to see that he was willing to play his part in Olni’s plan. After all, if he wasn’t going to, why should they?

This was different to Olni-Ja. There was no cheering, no cacophony of whoops and yells. Silence suited the sombre nature of this day much better. Plus, silence would also lend more power to the ritual words when they were finally spoken. He strode to the peak, to the carven steps that led to the rounded tip of the mountain.

A shiver ran down his spine. He suppressed it. Be strong, be strong. A real King would be confident. At last, he stood at the summit. This was the time to speak.

“Oh Olni, Oh Olni, Oh Dragon-Father! Today is the most sorrowful of days! Today we leave Your presence, to wander in the dark! But though we speak of partings, we know that You shall always return! For as You said...”

Suddenly, there was a gasp from the assembled masses. The air chilled perceptibly. Even the King turned to see what the cause of this was.

There were dragons. Hundreds of them, all flying together, in their direction. Gasps turned to shrieks, as the Wyverns began to fly closer to the ground, instinctively attempting to protect those below them.

They need not have feared. The flock had no intention of attacking this day. Flying at speeds that even most wyverns would have thought unachievable, they zoomed over the peak, covering it in a huge, mottled shadow.

Confusion reigned among the masses. They huddled together, wanting to flee but not daring to move. It was then that Galdor realised. They were frightened and unsure. He was their King. He had to do something, surely.

Without thinking, he spread his wings for the first time in years. Shouts rang out, but they did not reach his ears. The wind, propelled by the downbeat of hundreds of giant wings, resisted him, but he pressed on regardless. His wings beat, and beat, and...failed. A particularly vicious downdraft whipped his wings from under him, and he lost his balance. He began to tumble, down towards the peak beneath them, a horrified shriek sounding from the crowd.

As he fell, the flock of dragons finally ended, and at last he saw what had made them fly. Behind them, rolling like a storm, a herd of white beasts that he did not recognise even from legend. Their faces were bizarre, ending in flats rather than points. Behind them, wherever they rode, a trail of ice, a land frozen over.

That was all he saw before he fell, and darkness swept over him.

The story stopped as Gravil paused, panting for breath.

Spike was eager to hear the next part.

“What? What happened then?”

“Pardon me, My Lord, b...but allow me one...moment...”

When the Wyrm had composed himself, he went on.

“Now, Galdor fell, but he was not killed. He was fortunate to be blown away from the peak itself, onto the softer marshland that used to surround this place. It was still a serious fall, but He was strong enough that it did not kill him. However, Galdor had little time to recuperate, for a dire threat faced all of us. The Olc-Ol had arrived.”

There was a slight buzzing in Spike’s ears as the word untangled itself, offering upAir Spirit.

Grail went on.

“The name is quite deceptive, My Lord. Despite that, these...things were like no threat we had faced before. They sapped the world itself of heat and strength by their mere presence! Any attempts at aggression proved futile - tooth and nail simply passed through their bodies, and their unnatural powers sucked the heat from any flame before it could make contact with them.”

Spike’s mind filled with images of dragons falling to the ground, wings frozen by the sheer cold of the Air Spirits.

“So they attacked you? What did you do then?” Spike asked.

Gravil responded with a sigh of frustration.

“That was one of the unusual things, My Lord. They didn’t attack us - in fact, we seemed beneath their notice. Imagine the insolence! The mighty Children of Olni, passed over like yesterday’s leftovers! It nearly burned me up with indignation, so it did!”

Spike interjected Gravil’s rant.

“Yeah, but what happened?”

Gravil’s face lit up with embarrassment.

“Ah, yes. The story. Their lack of interest in us did not spare us from harm. Wherever they passed, snow filled the air, streams and lakes froze. The increasingly cold air was Bel-Kal itself for us, who draw our strength from heat. The Dragons were affected the least, their inner flame staving off the worst effects of the weather, but the rest of us were forced indoors on a permanent basis. We wyrms took this in stride, as best we could - the cold wasn’t much of a problem underground. For the Wyverns, however...”

Gravil grasped his own shoulders and shivered.

“For a Wyvern, indoors is the place you stay when the sky is off-limits. The sky is your real home. Being forced indoors for weeks, sometimes even months at a time was simply too much for them to bear. Many of them went mad, attacking their own comrades in desperate bids for freedom. The lucky ones were subdued.”

Spike simply had to ask the question - it was begging for it.

“What about the unlucky ones?”

Gravil replied.

“They escaped.”

The room became deadly silent for a moment. Gravil bowed his head in remembrance.

Eventually, he went on.

“Panic spread across the land. Hold after hold was cut off by the Olc-Ol’s advance, and we began to fear for our future. Efforts were made to slow or stall the advance, or reverse its effects, but none proved successful. Eventually, Galdor’s choices boiled down to two. One, He could order a mass evacuation, abandoning the land of Olni and our Fathers to the horrors, and attempt to find a new land. Faced with such an appalling choice, He chose the second. The Lethargy.”

Before Spike could even ask what the Lethargy was, Gravil elaborated.

“The Lethargy was a spell, concocted by the most skilled Runeworkers in the land, as a workaround for our problem. It was simple: a spell would be cast that would place all Dragons, Wyrms, and Wyverns into a state of extended hibernation, vastly slowing our vital processes and allowing us to sleep until such a day as the cold had ended. The spell included provisions that would sustain our bodies and fulfil our basic needs, as well as protecting us from attack. Each Hold would be affected in the same way, and was to prepare in the same way. It was a massive, desperate undertaking. I can still remember the day when the spell was cast - Galdor, lain on his bed of gold with his wife beside him, their clutch of eggs, sat in coals nearby. The ranks of wyrm-warriors, determined to sleep on their feet, so that they would be able to fight from the very moment of their awakening, the broodmothers herding the children to the correct places...”

He suddenly realised that he had moved onto a tangent, and re-focussed himself.

“Yes, it was a day worth remembering. However, what happened next was...unpleasant. You will have to forgive me for the vagueness of this next part, My Lord, for I was asleep for most of it. However, as we slept, we dreamed. I earnestly cannot say what we dreamt of, but I can say that we had some vague feeling of connection to each other in them. I sensed Galdor’s dream - and the singular is appropriate here, for it was always the same. I do not know what it contained exactly, but I got the impression that it was horrible.”

Gravil went on, lost in the telling.

“For four centuries we slept, our Holds covered by snow, and then by trees. At long last, our minds cleared and we awoke. However, the greatest surprise was yet to come. For you see, at first we thought we had awoken to Paradise. The Olc-Ol had vanished, and the world was green and warm once more. We were puzzled by the sudden appearance of trees outside of our doors, but we could not have been happier! Our world was free again! The Wyverns were so overcome by joy that they burst into the air like a massive cloud and did not come down to rest for three full days. Perhaps this is what attracted their notice...”

That piqued Spike’s curiosity.

“Whose notice? Was it...zombies?”

Gravil looked unamused.

“No, My Lord. Whilst in the air, one group of wyverns encountered strange flying beasts they had never seen before. They had wings, but no claws or scales, instead possessing strange lumps on the ends of their feet. Over-excited by the feeling of flight, some of the wyverns pounced upon them, killing several. The beasts made no attempt to fight back, but turned their tails and fled. The Wyverns, overcome by the thrill of the chase, pursued them. The creatures flew to the peak of a mountain, into a bizarre white city. The wyverns were driven wild, and attacked the city. There were more creatures in the city, some like the flying creatures, some earthbound, some bearing horns on their heads. There were scenes of utter chaos. Some beasts fled, others tried to stand their ground - in vain. The frenzy continued until a larger, white beast, bearing both wing and horn, appeared. The wyverns attacked it - and were burned to ash by its powerful magic. Terrified, the few survivors fled as swiftly as they could, returning to An-Bel to tell their story.”

“However, all was not right. I noticed right from the moment of awakening that Galdor seemed unwell. He was more aggressive than before, less tolerant of mistakes. Small errors would be met with Crissian punishments, and his voice contained a crazed, desperate tone. Even so, He was our King, and we trusted him.”

“When word returned to An-Bel of what had transpired in the bizarre city, we were shocked. Shocked at the wyverns’ behaviour, yes, but it was soon deduced that this news was even more terrible than first we thought. When the wyvern survivors pointed out the mountain to others, it was recognised quickly - it was Ik-Tena itself! The King was swift to make a deduction: these beasts resembled the Olc-Ol in form, and had built a stronghold upon the cursed mountain. Who else could their terrible leader be but Pan-Gor, the destroyer! All the signs matched! White in colour, shape of death, tool of magic. Without delay, Galdor pronounced war.”

“There were some who felt reserved about making war so hastily, myself included. Even so, our King seemed dead-set upon it, and so we prepared. The other Holds were contacted, and The Army Of Kings marched again.”

“We faced resistance at first, though it seemed inappropriate to refer to it as such. Pangor’s followers were unable to match our superior strength, size, and spirit. Eventually, it was such that we spent days on end travelling through empty countryside. We sometimes encountered odd structures, made of wood and thatch. We reasoned that these were probably their dwellings, and we set them alight.”

There was an odd tone in the old Wyrm’s voice, a vigour that made his feelings clear. Remembering those days made his chest swell with pride.

“Eventually, we stood at the foot of Ik-Tena. How proud we were! How much we resembled our ancestors! Before the battle, we said the prayers as Olni taught them to us - prayers for strength, prayers for faith, prayers for victory. In Him we placed our trust, and we knew that We should never be defeated.”

“When the prayers were said and done, we ascended the mountain, wyrmclaws digging into its sides, wyverns soaring overhead. Swarms of the flying beasts had gathered around the summit, aiming to drive us back. And I...I stood at the foot of the mountain, beside my King, observing the battle that was about to unfold...”

His voice began to fill with emotion again, and his voice filled Spike’s head with vivid images.

****

“Gra-Vil.” The Dragon King’s tone was dry.

“Yes, My King?” The Chancellor replied.

Galdor laughed.

“Ever formal, aren’t you?”

Gravil fidgeted, his claws clacking as he rapped them upon The Staff he held. He only ever did that when his nerves were getting to him.
“Is today not the day for sobriety, My Lord?”

Galdor cracked a crazed grin.

“Of course not! Soon we will destroy the Great Enemy! Soon we will be Heroes! Heroes!”

The Chancellor smiled back, uncomfortably. This...did not feel right. This course of action was rash in the extreme. True, the shape of these creatures was disturbingly similar to the Olc-Ol, and their leader was a white-colored magician, but even so...

The King raised his voice, and shouted the order.

“Advance!”

As word spread, the order was followed. The Army of Kings was smaller now than it had been at the height of its strength, but there were still so many wyrms marching up the mountainside that the earth shook. The wyverns surged forward, eager to engage the flying beasts. Now all that they had to do was wait.

The wyrms began the difficult march up the sides of the mountain. They kept their heads down, their minds set on the city. They set one foot before the other, and slowly they began to ascend. Suddenly, there was a rumbling, and several huge boulders emerged from the city. They were encased in strange red light. Gravil recognised them immediately.

“Magic!” he hissed, spitting the word out as if it were poison.

Galdor began to shout.

“Mages! Get the mages! Stop those things! Stop them!”

Before the Rune-Mages could be organised, the light dissipated, and the boulders began to roll down the mountainside. Wyrms shrieked in horror as the giant stones thundered toward them. The army began to split, as soldiers tried to escape from the rocks’ path. For some, it was too late. The sound of crushed bones sounded, as the front lines were smashed apart. The Dragon King screamed.

“No!NO!”

A red light surrounded the stones, and they froze in place. The panicked wyrms looked around in confusion, though they were grateful to have been saved. Three gaunt, pale dragons appeared next to the King. One of them spoke.

“We stand ready to serve, My Lord.”
Galdor sighed gratefully.

“Good. Now support our troops! Counteract any further trickery they attempt! I will not be the King who succumbed to the Cri-Es!”

The three dragons bowed their heads in respect. The air filled with a slight clicking sound, and the three dragons disappeared in a flash of red light.

The advance continued, the Rune-Mages able to thwart most of the efforts of the beast-magicians. Any boulders thrown were tossed back, any bolts of magic dispelled. The skies filled with the beating of wings, as flying-beast fought wyvern, both sides suffering significant losses. At last, the wyrm soldiers stood at the perimeter of the city.

The streets were surprisingly bare - the creatures seemed to have withdrawn to the highest point of the mountain. It made sense - it was the point within the city that the wyrms would take the longest to reach. Gravil noticed this and mentioned it to his King.

“An intelligent move, Gravil, but ultimately futile. They buy only time, and there is nothing upon which they can spend it that will enable them to defeat us.”

Even as the words left Galdor’s mouth, a sharp crack rang out, and the acrid tang of free magic filled the air. Gravil’s eyes were drawn to the source, to the summit of the mountain. There she stood, proud and terrible. The white creature raised its head to the sky, and was enveloped in light.

“Mages! Stop her! Do som-”

For a moment, all was still, as if the world had been frozen. Then the sun moved. Not at its normal, almost imperceivable speed, but with a heavy, jarring jolt that seemed more like the movement of a clock hand.

It picked up speed, moving down towards the western rim, until, after a few seconds, it sank beneath the horizon.

Gravil stopped, suddenly.

Spike didn’t know what to say.
“So, er...what happened then?”

The old wyrm stared at the floor, shivering at the memory.

“We were...terrified.” Gravil whispered.

He went on.

“For as long as we could remember, we had trusted Olni to give us strength, and He had never failed us before. But this, this sorceress had forced Him to move! We...we could not believe it”.

He placed his hand to his forehead once more, as if the mere memory of the day was making him ill.

“They burst forth from the city, crashing down upon us like a waterfall. Our morale waned more quickly than a falling comet. Shocked and demoralised, not quite comprehending what had happened, the Army of Kings began to crumble. I can still remember it - the looks on the faces of the wyrms, the Wyverns’ confusion at the sudden disappearance of the sun. The Dragons made a valiant effort to rally the army, but the sudden reversal of the battle’s pace made this all but impossible. The momentum was with them now, and they were only picking up more of it as time went on. Their magic was more ferocious now, their white leader adding its power to the eldritch onslaught. The Rune-Mages found themselves simply unable to keep pace. At last, a stray rock caught Tal-Da, leader of the Rune-Mages square in the head. That was the end of it”.

He drew another deep breath before going on.

“With the loss of one-third of our magic resistance, we simply could not hold any longer. Brave wyrms were tossed aside like rag-dolls, wyverns were struck by bolts of lightning, or dragged forcibly from the heavens, shattering their bodies in the process. The King, of course, was livid at this stage, driven utterly mad by fear and denial. He simply...”

Gravil winced visibly, obviously disliking the memory he had just brought to mind.

“...He simply could not accept that evil could triumph over good. He had to be dragged from the field.”

Gravil said nothing for a few moments.

Spike eventually decided to break the silence.

“So...what did you do then?”

Gravil replied in a low, tired voice.

“We ran. We had hoped for a reprieve, such that we could gather our forces, and our wits, but it was not to be. The beasts pursued us every step of the way, with a fury and a vigour that never seemed to wane. Only the valiant sacrifices of Lord Du-Oto and Lady Hi-Oto delayed them for long enough to ensure that we reached Anbel before they did.”

“We were hysterical. There was chaos, hopelessness, and fear. Who could we turn to, now that our God had left us? Our King, our second source of strength, was not much more help. Galdor locked himself within his chambers, refusing to come out. So great was our need that The Lords of the Land (the few that were left, at any rate) decided to give responsibility for the running of the Hold to the most senior of them. He was not a poor leader, but the task before him was simply too great, the time too short.”

Gravil shuddered at the memory.

“Apologies, My Lord, but the hours that followed that were very hectic. I have knowledge only of my own role in the next few events. The Queen herself came to see me, to discuss a plan. It had been designed for use in case the Hold was in danger of being overrun, and that was most certainly the case at the time. I was to lead a party of wyrms, composed of several broodmothers, the handful of soldiers that remained, and all of the children and eggs, and escape into the tunnels. Ignominious though it was, hiding had saved us from the chill of the Olc-Ol, and it might well save us again.”

“It was...a daunting task. I did not want to believe that it was necessary, but I couldn’t ignore the situation. As such, I set to the task. I gave orders, and they were followed. You will have to forgive me, My Lord, the next few hours flew swiftly indeed. I recall that we finished ahead of time, and that we were ready to set off immediately. Some argued against abandoning An-Bel, but I overruled them. Some of them I overruled forcibly.”

He spoke the last sentence with a matter-of-factness that was oddly chilling.

“The next few hours were a blur of sound and emotion. Despite the great sorrow inflicted upon us, I distinctly recall an oddly misplaced sense of excitement. We were about to embark on a journey, great and perilous, a journey that one day would allow us to regain our glory. We walked through the tunnels, water dripping through cracks that had appeared in four hundred years of non-maintenance. It was intimidating, but we were wyrms, and the earth was our home. We marched on, holding faith that we were assuring the future of our people...”

Gravil hung his head, and wrung his hands.

Spike noticed this.

“Er...Is that the end?”
Gravil sighed.

“No, My Lord. It is just that... what happened...gah.”

He sat down, and clasped his head in his hands.

“There was a noise, some confusion...a sound like thunder above us...then dust started raining from the ceiling, and we began to run...then it was rocks, rocks, rocks! I was struck on the head by one of them, whilst trying to direct the escape. I have no idea how I survived, but when I awoke... everyone was gone.”

He looked up at the ceiling, as if the stones in it were somehow speaking to him.

“I failed them, My Lord. I had promised to lead them to safety, to protect them for as long as I still lived. Yet here I am.”

His voice held none of the fiery passion that it did whenever he described the Dragon-Kings, but his words still held force.

“It took days to dig myself out of the rock-pile. The fighting was already over. The place was littered with the dead. No-one was spared. I found the King, lying on his side, almost unconscious from blood loss. I rushed to him. His eyes opened, and he seemed at last to see clearly. He apologised to me, for being so foolish. For allowing his need to prove himself to override his concern for his people. I, of course, was panicking, unable to accept what I was seeing. He seemed to find it vaguely ironic that I was the more distraught one, even though it was Him that was dying.”

“Before he finally died, Galdor said one last thing to me. He said:”

“Oh Gravil, poor Gravil. You carry so many burdens, and it is truly wrong of me to place another upon your back. But Gravil...you are the only one who can...”

Spike was on the edge of his metaphorical seat.

“The only one who can what?”

Gravil sighed again.

“He died at that exact moment. He never said what it was that he wanted, but he did not need to. What else could he want, but justice? The one who had slain him, imprisoned our Father, still lived. And there is something else, My Lord. The horror that slew brave Galdor lives still. In fact, it reigns, passing down its commands from its perch atop the vulgar peak, Ik-Tena! The White Death, Pan-Gor, what you may know as Celestia!”
The words sent a shock through Spike.

“W-wait, Celestia did all that?”

Gravil turned to him.

“Of course you would not believe. She stole your egg, wrenched it from the clutch of your mother. She slew our people! She is evil! She has caused us unspeakeable pain and dishonour! But tomorrow, all of that will finally be avenged!”

That confused Spike.

“Wait, what? What’s happening tomorrow?”

Gravil looked as if he was about to answer, when suddenly he froze. His eyes glazed over, and he began to tremble slightly.

“Ah. My little friend has returned”

Before Spike had the chance to ask what on Earth he was talking about, he stormed off, focussed totally on whatever it was he was looking for.

Spike was left alone in the Chamber of The King, wondering what the heck all of this meant.
*******

Comments

[UltiXevoz]

Nice

[Digitalis]

Damn, Spike is not the only one that's on the edge of the seat

[Shader]

So Spike hasn't pieced together that the story basically came down to "Dragons attempted to commit genocide on Equestria, Ponies defended themselves. Ponies are bad for defending themselves."?

[Azarune]

Now I am going to have to step up the pace and update. Great job mate! Best wishes now.

[frieD195]

515193
Yeah, it kinda sucks that the ponies just happened to create Equestria (Hearth's Warming) as the dragons were driven underground. I mean why wouldn't they try to defend themselves? They most likely didn't even know the dragons were there to begin with.

[Azarune]

515193

But also they began to root out the dragons, instead of opening negotiations after the first defeat. However we do know that the specie's lives on, but not as a nation, so rather the ponies decided to destroy the civilization of dragons but spare the survivors. This is speculation on my part, I was never good of thinking things like this. Eitherway there was misunderstanding on both parts.

[Gytrash]

690050

oh WOW.
That's solid gold right there. It looks something like a legitimate comment but when you look closer it's something that actually makes no goddamn sense. Well done.

[Cantus]

Got rid of it for you.

[EmperorMcDee]

Now all i have to do is wait for chapter 9....easier said than done
mememaker.net/static/images/memes/428783.jpg