//------------------------------// // As He Dies // Story: The Seven Seals // by Lightwavers //------------------------------// The great dragon tried to slumber, despite the futility. Each time he neared pleasant oblivion, a painful jolt woke him. “...prisoners. They’re both over here, if you want to see them. Maybe you don’t.” A snort. “Lazy.” Jrad cracked an eyelid. Torch filled his vision. The other dragon was an adult now, past the stage at which most young dragons died of a myriad of inherited genetic diseases. In many places, a wyrm was not considered a dragon until they reached this age, instead given standing equal to a mortal creature. If he stayed out of stupid, pointless conflict, he could live comfortably for thousands of years. Which made what he had to say even harder. “Go...take the scepter,” Jrad breathed. “Stop them. They’re idiots. All of them. If they aren’t brought to heel—” Torch blinked at the last word. It meant something different now, probably. Didn’t matter. Torch would get it. He was smart. “—they will see us all dead.” “The new Dragonlord is set on this war. So is...pretty much everybody. He’s protected.” “You...will find a way,” Jrad breathed. He needed to get back to sleep soon. Being awake was draining the precious energy he still had left. “...Foolish,” Torch said. He sounded almost...sad. That was a feat, for a dragon. Maybe he really meant it. Jrad laughed. A thin wave of soot left his snout. It wasn’t supposed to do that. Meant you were young and destined to die, or old and the same. “You can do it. Wyrm like you, would be—” he broke off, coughing. Torch waited for the fit to finish. “Not that. I’m just waiting for the right moment. It’s you.” “Mmm...me?” “You’re almost dead. All because you won’t eat any gems.” “I...have more. Stored. When I get close…” “Foolish.” Torch shook his head. “Have to make an example. Can’t command it, anymore. They won’t regenerate if they keep this up. The growth isn’t worth it. Isn’t worth...where was I?” “The prisoners.” “Prisoners?” Jrad finally took in the entirety of his cavern. Two ponies trembled against the far wall, across the empty cavern. “Ah...yes. Leave them with me.” Torch looked over him, but must have decided he’d gotten the message. “Hmm. Time to go, then. We have scouting...never mind. Just—don’t die.” He left, each wing beat causing the ponies to tremble. Then he was gone. They stood up fully, then. Bits of metal shone on their heads and shoulders and hooves, shiny pieces that reflected the light. Jrad itched to add them to his—no. He didn’t have a hoard. He’d given it up for the scepter. Any attempted replacement would be an insult to its memory. “We’re not afraid of you! We’re battle-hardened Royal Legionnaires, and...and…” The pony trembled again as Jrad swung his head toward him. The pony held a thin rod of wood with a bit of metal atop it as if to ward off attacks. The word for it escaped him for a moment before Jrad hauled it screaming out of the cavernous depths of his memory. It was a spear. “Ponies…” Jrad said, dragging the word out as he considered the two ‘prisoners.’ The other one was looking through her saddlebags, ignoring him. “You stick together. Never separate. Not for long.” One was now frozen in terror and dragonfear, while the other continued her mysterious search. “Somebody...or should I say somepony? Yes, they were starting to adopt the word when I...visited. That pony will be here soon. Or a group. They will...talk. With me. And so will you.” “Why?” the non-frozen pony said, businesslike as she abandoned her saddlebags to face him. The dragonfear hit her, but she shrugged it off. The effects would build over time, until she was as frozen as the other pony. But for now, she bore it without complaint. This one was strong. Good. “Your Princesses...they have...power. I would that they not use it. We have…a plan, you see. One that will stop the war as soon as it is completed. Your Princesses...they must know. They are good rulers. I met them…” he trailed off. They were strong. Able to hold off an entire chamber of dragonfear, the ability that only manifested in adult dragons. Those able to completely sever their connection to the scepter and begin another link, if they wanted. One to an element. Jrad had done so. Fire suited him. But without anything to consume, it turned on him, eating him. He would die without gems, soon. He’d lied to Torch. He’d eaten his last store...long ago. The pain stabbed. “You want to stop the war?” she was cautious. That was also good. She was one that would be trusted. “Yes. Tell the dark Princess to search your memory. She will find me. I am...known.” She startled. “Search my...memory?” The movement blocked the other pony’s view of Jrad’s eyes for a second, breaking the connection. The dragonfear dissipated. He threw himself into a fierce staring competition, trying to beat Jrad’s gaze again— —and failed, becoming completely immobile once more. “The Princess can’t—well, she’s studying a new type of magic, but—well, she wouldn’t, and besides, she hasn’t left the castle since she began.” Jrad shifted into a more comfortable position, trying to relieve the jolting pain. The cavern rumbled, sending several rocks down on the heads of the cowering pegasi. “She is a dreamwalker. She had been such for...long. A long time. She can find your memories from the dreamscape, if she wishes.” The only dragon dreamwalkers were deep below the earth, barely subsisting on the level of ambient magic the planet now provided. Jrad had been young when the last one went into the Deep Slumber, when magic grew too thin to support any dragon users of the high magics. “Th—that means—” she too was almost frozen with dragonfear by now, barely able to get her words out. “You will listen.” Jrad focused on the ponies, dredging up a skill he hadn’t used in a long time. One that required concentration. “Find your Princesses.” The command registered and they both nodded. “Tell them we have a plan to stop the war. Tell them not to use their abilities.” The geas took hold. Jrad snorted. Unprepared whelps. Everybody learned how to block, if not cast, a geas when growing up. Otherwise the unwary would end up punching himself in the face wherever he went, or flying to distant lands on a ‘dare’ he had no choice about… Well, now that he thought about it, it wasn’t really taught anymore. Even Torch only knew how to block it, and that only because Jrad had taught him. Some dragons might only think it a myth, or not even know of it in the first place… And that is how magic fades. Taking the generation who would remember along with itself, leaving an ever-lower level until there is nobody left. And with a start, Jrad realized he was awake. Fully awake, without the comforting embrace of even a half-slumber to fall back to. Awake, and using energy. “Do either of you happen to have gems?” he asked the ponies, breaking the gaze. “No.” And, hesitantly the other echoed, “No…” “A shame,” he said, then died. Flash Magnus flew in front of the two ponies, occasionally glancing behind at the roaring dragon behind them. He whistled. “What’d you guys do? They don’t even get this riled up when you cook and fry their own eggs in front of them!” “I don’t know!” one of the Legionnaires squealed, clutching his saddlebags with his forehooves as if to reassure himself he had something concrete to hold on to, and glancing nervously behind every half-second. “Neither do I,” the other said grimly. “He’ll probably be able to figure it out after we land, though. Just doesn’t deal with stress well.” She nudged the other pegasus playfully. He shrieked and rolled to the side. The dragon roared again, the sound suspiciously similar to a cry of grief.