Act 2 Verse 4
Fading Cinder
The passageway isn’t as bleak a trek as anticipated. The stones embedded in the walls give off a kind of murky glow, but there’s enough that it isn’t too ominous. And I don’t have to put up with it for long as I see the already wide corridor widening out even further just around the bend. Past said bend I step into a large, dome-shaped chamber, bathed in light by a ring of torches. No colosseum, but roomy enough for a game of buckball (bleachers included).
The place is empty; not even a random boulder or stalagmite. No discernible exits, either. Wonder who’d be holed up here.
Probably no one. It could just be the generic resting area before a big scuffle.
Or maybe not, as I see something at the opposite wall and head for it to investigate. Looks like a structure of some kind, and when I get up to it I find that I'm half right. It's a very large chair of roughly chiseled stone—likely granite—with arm rests and a high back, akin to an ancient throne. Fitting as it's occupied by what looks to be a statue of a muscular, broad-chested dragon of faded rust-red scales, a firm set of ridged horns on its head, and covered in dusty silver and gold armor. In the flickering shadows of the torches, it makes for an unsettling decoration.
“Odd place for a shrine.”
All kinds of dragon-worshippers in the dark ages, prostrating themselves to get roasted or eaten thinking it's an unparalleled religious experience. I'm honestly surprised there were any left to be thrown down here. Must’ve been really bored to have carved something this finely detailed.
The statue opens its eyes, letting out a dusty huff of air.
Orrr it's an actual living dragon sitting very still.
“What comes to disturb my vigilance? Why does it carry so familiar a scent?”
His sharp red eyes fixate on me before bending his head forward, loosening dust from his form. He then speaks again in that low, hardened tone.
“What fresh torment are you that my jailor has sent to me, to further while away the centuries of rot I have been confined to? Or state your name and prove that you’re no insufferable spirit.”
A real cheery outlook this one has.
“My name is Spike, and I’m not here to cause you any trouble.”
He shifts in his throne, upsetting more dust as he tilts his head. “Could it be that you’re… dragonkin?”
“That I am.”
Very slowly he shakes his head. “I had thought my vision had finally come to abandon me in this horrid lighting, but the scent you carry leaves no doubt. But you are small in stature, and lack a set of wings. Is this what my reckless brethren have been reduced to?” He sits back fully upright. “It does seem fitting, however, to be made perpetually juvenile to better suit their temperaments. Pray, what senseless act of destruction has sentenced you to this lonesome sepulcher?”
“I didn’t come down here due to a violent crime. And whatever had been destroyed by me, it was justified.”
“Hrmf, so you claim. But I can smell the blood of others mingled with that of my ancestors on you, still fresh. In my time, all dragons were lords of their own domains; each one of us held rule over every field, mountain, and mile of sky. And all of them, myself included, were belligerent beyond measure, ravaging all who could not match our might. To conquer and ravage is a calling no true dragon can stave off for long.”
No argument from me.
“I can assure you that I’m not here to conquer or even take up your time. I’m just looking for an exit out of here.”
He tilts his head. “Exit? Are the surface dwellers truly ignorant of this hateful place? There is no exit from Tartarus except by way of sweet, tempting death.”
Probably not as tempting as zap apple cupcakes (definitely not as sweet).
“I’m not talking about leaving Tartarus. I’m looking to go further in, like through a secret door or passage.”
His eyes widen slowly. The corners of his scaly mouth seem to twitch as he says in a grave tone, “Why, ever, would you want to go deeper into Tartarus?”
“I’m after someone, and I was told this was the way to them. If you know of another way around, I’d like to hear about it.”
His head lowers slightly so that he’s looking away from me. I can just make out a low growl. “There is only darkness beyond here. Yours is a fool’s errand.”
Like I haven’t had my fair share. Not this one, though. “If it’s all the same to you, I’d like to see that for myself.”
There’s a pause between us, until he goes, “I would say your eyes would do you no good there, but they have already been blinded by arrogance.” He lifts his head and glares hard at me. “I noticed the blade you carry upon your back. You served as knight for another? Subservient to one of the lower races? Then you may understand this: if you do not part from my hall, then I shall smite you where you stand. Leave me, and wallow someplace far from here.”
You’re not very good at dissuasion.
I was gonna say.
“I’m not one to be intimidated or easily turned away. And I can tell ya, this sword of mine has dealt with a whole lot of tough, overwhelming odds. So I’m not going to be leaving just because of a threat; I hear plenty of those in my day job.”
“So be it.” The dragon leans forward and pushes himself up from the throne, stiff groanings filling the air. “You have stoked my ire, and shall face the consequences.” As he’s getting up, he reaches his right arm to the side and pulls up a rusty longsword that had been placed in the shadows of the throne. Once standing at full height (only a quarter my height taller), a pair of dusty wings snap open with a “fwoomp”, the resulting gust making the torches flicker madly for a sec. “In your final moments, you shall bear witness to a Dragon Lord’s wrath.”
Guess no diplomacy for this one.
Heck no. Wasted enough time talking my way through this place, and he doesn't seem the reasonable type.
Suit yourself.
I withdraw my own sword as the other dragon approaches me. He raises his longsword and—
Dodge left!
I spring left as he slams it down, and raising it up again he—
Dodge right!
I go to the right to avoid another slam, and almost immediately—
Jump!
I hop over a swift, low sweep of his blade.
“Can you stop with the tips?”
“Impatient for your demise? Then I shall come at you with no restraint.”
Crap did I say that out loud?
You did, but I'll hush up. His tells are painfully obvious, anyway.
Gripping both claws on his sword, the elder dragon charges. I duck to evade a mighty upper sweep, then bring up my sword to catch his downward slash. The strength behind it is enough to rattle my bones, but it's manageable. He gives another swing which gets another block, then I give him a slash of my own. Sparks erupt from the tarnished surface of his raised blade as I press on, see if I can goad him into making a mistake.
Instead he opts to use those wings of his to leap back two yards, kicking up wind that ruffles my clothes.
“You cannot outmatch me where aggression is concerned, whelp!”
He springs forward, using those wings to give him some height for one powerful downward slash. I hold my ground and catch it full on with my steel (ah cripes my body), then push him back. He lands and backs up to steady himself, but I'm on him right as he focuses on me. I show him some more of my own aggression, striking at him from all angles, not giving him rest after each of his blocks. He suddenly raises an arm and backhands me, his greaves catching my blade and knocking me back.
“What worth is that energy if there is no precision behind it?”
He comes at me swinging again, and as I'm blocking I figure I'd show him some precision. I withstand his attacks patiently, my arms getting mildly sore with each impact, until he raises his sword high to bring it down to cleave me. Not a chance, as I sidestep and immediately swing a fist up into the side of his jaw (yeow that's hard), and while he's stunned I spin in place and drive my sword backwards through the seams of his chest armor.
My opponent coughs in pain and surprise, and I give a few twists before ripping my weapon out. He clutches the ragged hole I just made, and as he looks at me his legs give out and he collapses forward in a clatter. I stand there, waiting to see if he tries getting up, the only sound being the burning torches and the soft drips of blood falling from my sword. He remains completely still.
He went down like a complete chump! That was majorly disappointing, I must say. You’d think he’d last much longer.
“Sitting in that chair for so long in all that armor was bound to make him sluggish. He could still pack a strong hit, though.” I whip the blood off my sword and sheath it before turning around. “Now I just need to find a way out of here.”
I make my way over to a random spot of wall to begin my exit search. My limbs are still trembling from the repeated blows of the dragon lord, but they’ll have time to settle down as I feel around every inch of this place. That’s what I figured, until the clang of metal splitting rock echoes through the air. Crap.
Probably shouldn’t have turned your back on the body.
I turn back around, and there’s the dragon lord straining to pull himself up by the hilt of his embedded sword.
“N-n-no! I cannot, allow you…” His left arm gets positioned under him and further helps him up, allowing him to aim his razor-sharp grimace and equally deadly glare at me. “It, resides in you. I felt its abominable presence, coiled around your mind.” Now he gets a foot under him, balancing into a kneel. “Ruin is what you’re seeking. Catastrophe, devastation, for all things.” His other leg gets under him, and he wobbles up steadily to full standing height, never dropping that steely gaze. Blood is trickling steadily from his wound, leaving a stain down his waist and leg coverings.
I guess I was wrong about him.
“I shall not allow its agent to get past me.” Once fully erect, he shakes himself before widening his stance, fist clenched and sword held to the side. “I won’t allow you to unleash darkness upon the world!”
I feel a warm breeze as all sound ebbs away, only to be broken by the distant tolling of bells. I look to see where it’s coming from, but my eyes fall back on the dragon lord, whose chestplate appears to be radiating. The glow spreads out, quickly enveloping his body, and I see the blood along his armor takes on an orange, burning hue. Lines, cracks of some inner fire pop up through his exposed scales, especially his face and horns. Then his sword goes “fwoomth” as a sheath of flickering burgundy surrounds it, giving it a smouldering shine. After a moment, he brings his radiant legs and arms together, grasping his flaming sword with both claws and holds it firm before him.
“You shall be cleansed until not even ash remains.”
Looks like we have ourselves a two-parter. Better watch out.
Great advice, cuz the revived dragon lord spins and slashes that fiery sword, letting off a massive fire crescent. I jump and roll out of its way, and the rapport of exploding rock turns my attention to the corridor I came from, now caved-in. Double crap.
“No escape for your ilk.”
He pulls back his sword, then sprints forward before snapping it around in an arch. The blade misses me by a foot, but the gap is immediately filled with a wave of blazing fire that catches the front of my jacket. While patting it out he slams his sword into the ground, unleashing a small explosion at my feet that pushes me back.
Serious Gladius flashbacks here, only it's not chaotic flame I'm against, but plain old (though pretty strong) dragon fire. Very manageable.
I run at the fiery lord and get to slashing. He blocks two of my hits, but I bypass his guard and cut across his armor. His wings flap out like a cape lined with burning coals before sending him flying back from my attacks. Once he's landed, I only see a streak of bright yellow where there should've been blood on his chest. Not good.
Those crackling wings push him skyward on wisps of flame, then launch him down into a dive. I roll forward to avoid getting skewered, but another explosion erupts and pushes me further away. I recover and go at his back, slashing and cutting yellow lines through those wings before he spins around with a warding fire slash. He rears back and breathes a stream of flame at the ground before him that billows and rises into a thick firewall, blocking him off from my sight. I keep my sword level, eyes darting around for any breaks in the inferno, when he launches out with his own sword pointed at me. The broad side of my blade catches his before it can pierce me, but the force behind it throws me off my feet and far back into the room until my back and ass collide with the wall, knocking the wind out as gravity dumps me onto the floor.
Try fighting fire with fire. I mean, this is a battle between dragons.
I was about to think that, pushing myself back up onto my feet. I roll up the right sleeve of my jacket, then run a claw down the length of my arm up to my sword hilt. Dunno where that extra fire of his is generating from, but might as well show mine.
A puff of green and a chant grants me my own sweet-ass flaming sword, which looks to give my opponent pause. Not feeling so special now? I charge and engage him with my Lancer, red and green flames clashing amidst the cry of steel. We slash and clang at each other, sending up flames and sparks with each impact. His strength is pressing down on me again, so I even the odds by letting off a Malachite Piston on the next hit. This knocks away his sword forcibly, yet he still holds onto it, leaving him open wide open for slash at his chest.
That seems to do something as he cries out, then immediately springs up and over me in an acrobatic spin. He claws into the ground with his free claw as he skids into a backward crouch landing, spitting off some fireballs that go up into the air before coming down at me. Those get dodged promptly, but when I get myself straightened out I see the dragon lord standing tall and in the middle of driving his fiery sword into the ground. This leads to orange spots appearing in places along the floor, and immediately I get to dodging the columns of fire that start erupting everywhere.
I run, turn, and sidestep around the flame pillars, though one does catch my left arm. Mostly ruins the sleeve, but the heat is very pronounced through my scales (more so than lava). I hurry along through the flaming maze until I get back within sight of the ancient swordslinger. Jumping up, I spin out a Jade Slicer at him, and landing I sprint at him as he’s stumbling back from the hit and drive my blazing sword straight into the center of his chest plate.
The flame pillars snuff out instantly as their summoner backpedals, dropping his sword while clutching the latest hole I’ve given him. The embers peeking through his scales dim considerably as he falters.
“You, you cannot be allowed to pass. I won't let you!”
He groans and falls to his hands and knees, while the torches around us blaze up. In the enhanced lighting I see the dragon lord’s limbs and back bulging out and expanding, snapping his armor off as he grows. In no time he’s grown enough to take up half the room, becoming more like a dragon overtaken by severe greed as his groans get deeper and more animalistic. Once he stops growing he slams down his massive front claws, twists around his neck, expands his wings, then lets out a shrieking roar as his internal fire reignites a fresh coat of brilliance on him.
I don’t believe it: it’s a three-parter!
His right claw goes high before falling in my direction, which I dodge only to do the same when his left one comes slamming down after that. He pulls his head back before roaring out a massive inferno at the ground before him, forcing me to backpedal or get completely engulfed. The flames are barely gone when he starts clawing his way forward, reducing my wiggle room in his pursuit. I let out a Jade Slider to push him back, but when it hits his snout it only seems to agitate rather than actually hurt or dissuade him. Bugger.
May have to be more strategic if you want to topple this nasty customer.
I know as much, sheesh. I stab my Lancer against the sides of my feet, and a quick chant gives me a Tracer to go with my fiery sword. Have to get super mobile for this.
I zip to the left and leap onto the wall, speeding up to the ceiling before springing downward. A smouldering wing is there to brush me forward into the path of an oncoming claw, which I bat away. That only knocks me into his gaping jaws, though, which he gnashes as I get close. I grasp onto a nostril as he chomps madly for my dangling feet, but I shove my blazing sword into the roof of his mouth instead.
The appetizer makes him screech and toss his head around, which sends me flying back to the spot where I started from. As I straighten myself, he rears back for another fire breath. I put on a speed burst to outrun the flamethrower, which follows me up along the wall. I get to the ceiling and launch down again, letting off a Slicer at the wing as it comes up and tearing it to shreds.
I land on his back, but the pain-crazed dragon slams against the side of the chamber, then slams the other side. I'm thrown about to his left shoulder, where a claw awaits to crush me. Instead I leap right onto the claw tips, stab the gap in-between, then backflip off as he's shaking it.
Angle myself, aim, and with both claws clutching the hilt I drive my sword into the top of his head. While he's writhing I brace myself, chanting and holding on for the critical seconds leading up to the firing of a supercharged Piston. The ensuing explosion of green and crimson blots my sight as my ears fill with one deafening death cry.
All is quiet as before. The blast had blown out most of the torches, but I can still see clearly in the dimness. Before me is the bulky remains of the dragon lord, fallen and bereft of his infernal glow, giving his body the coloration and texture of ash. Much of his skull has been blown away, with just his mouth and neck left intact.
That blast may have been a bit overkill, Spike.
After my fight with Boulderstorm all those years ago, I made a note to always double-tap when I land a critical stab to a hulking monster's head.
Ah, very prudent. Definitely can’t take any chances with these unsavory sorts.
Exactly. Now that he's definitely out of the way, I turn toward the wall.
“Cursed, youth…”
Dammit. I turn back, but to some relief it's only his parched jaws and raspy voice struggling to move.
“Before you part, and before this body draws its last breath, I shall tell you of the crime that had sent me here.”
Parting words. Alright, I think as I sheath my sword.
“During one of the coldest winters this world ever bore witness to, I was caught by a violent blizzard and forced to take ground in a sequestered valley for shelter. There, I discovered a tribe of equines in squalid huts unsuited for the harsh cold. Knowing they would not survive the blizzard, I took pity... and showed them the secret to producing fire from materials borne from the earth, so that they could withstand both the storm, and future winters. When my fellow lords learned of this, they were enraged. To share anything with anything beneath them, was tantamount to treason. They apprehended me, and cast me into Tartarus for that single unthinkable act.”
Cracks pop up around his body as bits of his chin fall off. “I was exiled for a show of compassion... for giving hope to something less fortunate than myself. Condemned to life underground, far from the skies I ruled over. But never did I curse myself for that decision. Not once…” More cracks on his face. “I… did not think myself above the world as my brethren did, for I had met with darkness. Felt its coldness, its maddening influence. I understood that it was a threat to all living things, great and small. I took an oath to combat it in any way I could, yet one act of compassion isn't enough, I realized in coming here…”
He pauses, as a chunk of horn breaks off. “A great abundance of it is stored deep in this dreaded vault, longing to escape and smother all that is pure and innocent. I have kept sentry to ensure that it never does, and swore to strike down all those who seek to release it. No matter what, or who, they may be.”
Should say something. “I am not looking to release anything.”
“Truthfully?” He makes some choking grunts as laughter, then cranes his neck to raise his mouth at me, parts of his neck crumbling away. “Don't bother with false comforts. Dragons only venture in service to their greed. Though you be stunted in height, though your blade strikes true, you really are no different than any of our kind."
More cracks split open over his form as his voice gets lower. “If you insist on being different, then turn back. To continue further would only spell disaster for yourself, as well as others. But, if nothing else, know that Prometheus fell in defending the living, and that he did everything in his power to halt... the coming… darkness…”
His raised head drops, dissolving into dust upon hitting the floor, as does the rest of his body. In seconds the great form of a noble dragon is reduced to a large pile of ash. There's a rumbling, and I look ahead in time to see the granite throne split and break apart, revealing a small, darkened archway.
That looks to be our exit. How unimaginatively arranged.
“I guess.”
Saves me the trouble of searching the whole room at least. But first, I let my legs give out and plant my butt onto the ground.
Hey, you're tuckered out by that? He was nowhere as tough as King Birdface. And surely his breath couldn't have matched the power of Tia, sun incarnate.
Maybe not. But his hits kept rattling me, and the Lancer and Tracer combo got me pretty drained. Just need to rest a bit.
Suit yourself. I suppose no shapeless horrors will come rushing in while you rest your little dragon legs.
Yeah, thanks for the assurance. I take in the silence, get in some calming breaths. Look over to my left sleeve and see it's scorched all to hell and hanging on by a thread. I rip it off, save myself the bother. It then occurs to me to reach into my shirt for the necklace. Still in one piece, good. Sure can take a pounding, and I guess it really is only me who can break it.
I think to Prometheus’ story in these recuperative moments. To my knowledge, there aren't any records of pony-dragon relations from before Equestria's founding. You’d think they’d make a sizable footnote over something like that, or at least a local legend. Meaning he either lied, or it goes to show what gratitude you can expect from those primitive types.
Hell if I know.