Ghost remembered being told once that Unicornina was a country of mountains. The native unicorns held the great sky-scraping heights as holy ground, the lands that were closest to the gods themselves. They built great observatories, libraries, and castles on some of the most inhospitable heights, daring the other tribes to take their land from their sheer walls and dizzyingly-high towers.
In fact, Gora, god of Mountains and Metals, was one of the patron gods of the unicorns.
Yet, despite all of this, Ghost couldn’t climb one to save his life.
Gasping for breath, Ghost heaved himself over a rock ledge, pushing and kicking as he tried to pull himself up and over the small cliff he was staring down, before finally, finally making it. “Why?” he asked the sky with a gasp as he laid on the stone, “why couldn’t someone make a path through here?”
His answer was obvious, of course, they hadn’t built a path through for the same reason that he was having such trouble climbing. It was slow, painful going that required far more effort than simply going around. No, instead he wanted to leave quickly.
He rolled back onto his hooves and approached another boulder that he had to climb.
The only thing that really made this whole trip worth it was knowing that he didn’t really have another choice. It was either this or be hunted down like an animal.
“And while we’re on that subject,” he thought bitterly to himself, “let’s just talk about the sheer ridiculousness that the one pony that would actually care that the old witch was buried would spend hundreds of gold to hunt me down. What’s wrong with him, huh?”
Struggling to climb, Ghost tried grasping with his magic, trying to find a handhold that he could use. Unfortunately, this did nothing, and he slid backward, smacking his jaw into the stone before falling backwards on the last stone step, writhing on the ground as he cradled his fractured jaw. He screamed through clenched teeth and rolled across the stone, before he slowed, and finally stood. “I need to get that healed…” he muttered to himself.
Glancing back at the boulder, he took a moment to try and judge the best way to climb. It was probably something he should have done earlier, but it was too late now. After a few minutes, and a few new plans, scrapes, and bruises, Ghost finally climbed up again, standing proudly on his conquered foe.
He sighed. This took far too much effort.
Maybe he should just announce that he was here, and then use the distraction to head back south to the road. It would take less effort, to be sure, at the sacrifice of time and safety. Still, it might just be worth it.
As he began walking up a rough slope filled with gravel collected from over the millenia, he kept a hoof to his fracture, and an eye on the sky. He might have given his hunters the slip once, but to then assume that he lost them for good was stupidity. He knew better than that, even the prisons had taught him better than that. Just because you ran away for now, doesn’t mean you’re safe for long.
His hoof gave way in the gravel, and he fell, nearly slamming his face into the ground again. He cursed several times as he got his hooves back under him, before he growled. “Come on, stay on your hooves,” he muttered to himself, before continuing to climb.
He looked back up at the sky, before he nearly tripped again, and he growled angrily before he tried one more time to watch the sky. Once more he fell, caught himself and sighed. This was going to be a pain.
Focusing on the ground in front of him, rather than the sky, Ghost moved up the mountain, feeling uncomfortable with leaving his back exposed to the orange-purple sky, where the pegasus could be flying above any second now. There’d be no way to know for sure that he was there, he could be flying above right now, and he’d never know.
It set his teeth on edge.
He moved as quickly as the terrain would let him, climbing slowly up the mountainside, before he finally freed himself from the gravel landslide, and crawled onto a new stone shelf. Sighing as he finally found a place to rest, he rolled onto his back and watched the sky for a moment or two.
No sign of the pegasus showed itself, and no other sign of being pursued was there either.
That didn’t mean he was safe. They could just be behind him, or worse, heading south to try and cut him off on the other side of the mountains. He’d have to keep moving if he wanted to stay ahead of them.
Still, it probably wasn’t a good idea to climb when it was dark. The sun was still in the middle of setting and he had already been slipping on the stones and gravel, he’d be useless in the proper darkness, and he’d probably get himself hurt.
As much as he didn’t like the idea, he’d have to find a place to sleep tonight. Any kind of cave would be best, because then any fire he could light would be hidden. Then, at the very least, he wouldn’t have to sacrifice comfort for safety.
He kept his eyes open as he searched the natural walls around him for any sign of a cave that he could rest in. The stone, in turn, offered nothing, and Ghost was simply going to continue to climb before he suddenly caught sight of something.
Behind him, down the mountain, there was a single column of smoke was beginning to rise up into the sky, a single dark smear against the setting sky.
He was still being followed.
Ghost sighed.
Why couldn’t he have this one? Why?
Turning back to his surroundings, Ghost searched for any kind of shelter, before his eyes fell on set of stones that had fallen from the peaks. The stones formed two simple walls, while the mountain itself formed a third, with a single stone crossing them from above to create a roof. It was no cave, but it would suffice.
Walking over, he quickly reached into his bag, and pulled some firewood he had been collecting in the forest. He piled it up, and with a few seconds of working with a tinderbox he bought a month ago, lit it into a soon-to-be-roaring fire.
He nursed it carefully, adding sticks, air, and tinder until it was burning, protected from the wind by the stone walls. It also kept the heat in, and it was getting much, much warmer in the small alcove that Ghost had found, bearably so.
With the temperature rising, Ghost finally took an opportunity to draw his cloak about him, and fend off the mid-spring frosts that plagued the mountain. His magic reached into his pouch, and pulled out the hardtack he bought for rations, and quietly chewed it as he stared into the flames.
He sat there, staring, until he finally slipped into unconsciousness.
The next three days passed like the first. He woke up suddenly, panic raising in his chest until he realized that his hunters did not, in fact, come down on him in his sleep. Once his safety was assured, he quickly ate some of the candied fruit he kept in his bag, and began to move, climbing higher into the mountains.
Up and up and up he climbed, crawling over stone shelves, boulders, and ledges, while taking shelter in caves, alcoves, and under stone to hide from both the whipping, wild wind and the hunters that were slowly catching up.
It was the pegasus’ fault that they were gaining ground. For every obstacle that Ghost had to face alone, they simply had to send the pegasus up with rope, making for an easy climb.
At least, that’s what Ghost assumed was happening.
By the end of the fourth day, their campfire was almost visible as an orange glow against the grey stone. They were making good ground, better than he was, certainly.
He shook his head as he searched for his shelter that night. If the moon were fuller and gave more light, he would seriously consider moving out under the cover of darkness, but with his luck in climbing mountains as it was, he doubted he would make it another twenty feet before he was falling down the mountain, dead.
He checked his surroundings again. A cave would be nice right now. If it was deep enough, he might even be able to hide, and let the hunters go on by. He cursed quietly, before looking back at the warm, orange, glow where the hunters were resting. They’d be on him soon, too soon, and he needed—
He blinked. There was a boulder to his left, where its shadow seemed carved into the mountain.
But it wasn’t a shadow.
He had seen it for just a second, the shortest fraction of a second, but there had been a light in the darkness, there. He was sure of it.
He slid up to the boulder, and pressed his hoof into the shadow, and smiled as he felt nothing. It was the cave he had been hoping for.
Slipping inside, Ghost quickly made his way down, deeper into the mountain. The cave quickly widened, and the assassin followed along as it went deeper and deeper down, until he came to a single, massive antechamber.
The second he did, he noticed several things at once. The first was that he seemed to be exiting out of a vent, much smaller than the proper entrance which opened up on the other side of the antechamber, while also sitting much higher. The second thing he noticed was the massive piles of gold piled in the middle of the room. It stood three ponies tall, and covered the entire floor of the gigantic, natural room, and Ghost felt his eyes bug out slightly at the sight of it.
The third thing he noticed was the brilliant, crimson-stained body of a purple dragon.
It heaved as it struggled to breathe, as blood bubbled and frothed from the three-ponies-long wound in its side. The dragon rolled and writhed on its bed of treasure, and low, guttural growls of pain echoed around the chamber as fire spat from its mouth.
Ghost suddenly realized he was staring, and more importantly, standing still in the middle of the vent, in plain view of anyone that would look up at him.
He hugged the wall, squeezing against the stone, trying to flatten himself into hiding.
The dragon roared, slamming a massive claw into the ground, slamming into the stone with such force that the gold clinked and clattered around the chamber. “Murderer!” It yelled with a gasp. “You could not—” it gasped. “Could not kill me on the field, so you follow me to my home?” She coughed, spitting up blood as a definitely female voice squeaked through her fangs. “You would kill me as I lay dying on my—” She coughed again. “—kill me on my deathbed.”
Ghost didn’t answer.
The dragon growled. “Don’t hide from me, Murderer. I—” another coughing fit. “I know you’re there. The smell of pony and coward is strong enough.”
Ghost quickly weighed his options.
Hide, maybe be found out, and maybe die, or speak up and maybe not die.
He really didn’t like either of those.
The dragon coughed, and took several, long, labored breaths, before a gout of fire slammed into the far wall. “I—” Cough. Cough. “I will find—” Cough. “I will find you eventually.”
Ghost sighed. He was really going to hate himself for this. “I am here, Dragon,” he said, stepping back into view. “And while I am a murderer, you are not my victim tonight.”
Despite her labored breathing, her eyes were fast, they centered directly on him and her long, reptilian pupils narrowed instantly as they focused on him. A long moment passed as that eye that was almost as big as he was stared at him, looking him up and down. Smoke drifted from her nostrils as fire burned in her eyes, before she finally turned away and coughed again. “At least...at least you know how to make an entrance.”
Ghost still didn’t move. He simply stared down at the wounded creature, ready to jump back behind whatever cover he could find in case the dragon decided to end him.
She growled. “Well, Pony? Have you simply come to watch me die or are you here for a purpose.”
Again, Ghost weighed his options. His first and natural inclination was to lie. It had gotten him this far in life. On the other hoof, Dragons were known for ending lives that had been going rather well when lied to…
“I am being hunted. I found your cave and thought it’d be a nice place to hide for the night.”
The dragon snorted. “And so my home becomes a shelter for vermin,” she grunted, before she raised her claw to her wound and seethed in pain. “Though...I suppose I won’t be using it soon.” She turned back to Ghost, a calculating look in her eye before she spoke again. “Can you heal, Pony? Do you have that magic?”
Ghost shook his head. “No, I have a few potions.”
The dragon scoffed. “Potions? If I drank all of your potions it would barley be a drop. No, potions are useless to me…”
Both of them went quiet for a moment, before the Dragon spoke again. “Well, are you simply going to sit there, or are you going to come down?”
“Why would I?” Ghost asked. “You’re likely to kill me.”
The dragon began to laugh, before it was cut short to a pathetic wheeze. “At least you know better. No, I won’t kill you, I am doomed to die, and I would rather use what life I have to kill those who wounded me. Besides, I need someone to live on, so that they may tell the tale of the final vengeance of Cinder the Brightflame.” She coughed. “After all, I won’t be able to tell it.”
Again, Ghost considered, before he finally began to make his way down to the antechamber. He moved carefully down the wall, searching for the small, almost hidden handholds in the stone.
Cinder waited, watching him descend, while taking the opportunity to breathe, even as she continued to bleed, frothy blood bubbling up from the wound.
Ghost finally touched down on the smooth floor of the antechamber, and began walking forward, deciding it was best to stay away from the hoard of gold, and giving it a wide berth. Cinder watched, approvingly.
Finally, he sat before her, and she sighed, laying down on her pile of gold, before striking it with her massive fist as she grunted in pain. It passed a moment later, and as she relaxed she glanced back down at the much smaller pony at her feet. “Have you ever died before, Pony?”
“No,” Ghost replied, sarcasm in his voice.
“I thought so,” she said with an amused snort. “It's painful, let me tell you.” She laughed at her own joke, before falling silent again.
A moment passed, before Cinder spoke again. “Are the murderers following me?” she asked. “Have they followed me home, ready to finish what they started?”
“I can check,” Ghost said.
“Go check,” the dragon said between coughs.
Ghost stood, walking into the darkness of the main cave. As he stood in the tunnel, he saw no light, and heard nothing, not the sound of knights preparing for battle, not the clamor of weapons on armor, only silence.
Ghost returned to Cinder’s side. “There's nopony yet,” he reported.
The dragon cursed. “They need to come soon. I don’t know if I’ll have the strength to avenge myself if they don't…”
Ghost said nothing. He didn't know what to say.
Cinder sighed again. “Are you sure you can't heal me, Pony? The favor of a dragon has never been so cheaply bought.”
Ghost shook his head. “Only the potions, and they can't even fix a broken bone. I don't even have a dressing large enough for that wound.”
She coughed. “Of course not.”
Silence stretched through the antechamber, and Ghost began wondering if staying here, next to a dying dragon was either a safe, or even a smart, idea. She could turn on him in a second, and he wouldn't even have a chance to defend himself.
But he stayed.
“Pony, could you check again?” she asked.
He checked for her three times, and each time he came back, with no sign of her pursuers. Each time she asked, her voice got weaker, and the fury in her tone died bit by bit.
“Could you check one more time, Pony? Please?”
“I don't think they're coming,” Ghost said, before standing, “but I can check one more time.”
Cinder glanced back from him to the tunnel out, then back to him again. “I...I...n-no...stay, please.”
Ghost sat back down.
“Do...do you think they're afraid, Pony? Is that why they aren't coming?” she asked, her voice growing weaker with every passing second.
The assassin looked up at the dragon, whose scales were beginning to turn pale, whose wound was now slowly oozing rather than the frothing mess that he first saw, and whose eyes were beginning to search about wildly as they were slowly losing the ability to see. He looked up at the wheezing, gasping dragon that wanted nothing more than to spend her last moments fighting for what was left of her life, but was forced to watch it slip through her claws.
He watched a dragon, a being that, even now could crush him as she laid on her bed of gold, face death.
And all he saw was a young, scared, girl.
“I would be,” he said.
“Do you mean that?” she asked.
“Of course,” Ghost said. “I’m still afraid as it is.”
The dragoness smiled. “Good...good...I can live with that.” Her eyes, which were clouding over more and more as she struggled to breathe, fell on him. “You know, you’re not that bad, Pony...I could almost get along with you.”
“You’re only saying that because you’re losing blood,” Ghost said with a smile. “You are far too terrifying and powerful to be friends with me.”
Cinder laughed. “Now you’re just trying too hard…”
Ghost smiled.
“Pony…” Cinder said, “climb my hoard. I need you to bring me something.”
Ghost blinked, but obeyed, climbing the mountain of gold.
“Go to the back, the very back,” Cinder told him, her voice barely a whisper. “You’ll see a pit, bring what’s in it to me.”
A pit?
Ghost kept moving, confused as to what she actually meant, before he stumbled, and landed face-first into the coins. When he looked up, the first thing he saw was that the coins ended. They had been melted together here, misshaping until they formed a cauldron, a mold of a dragon’s fist formed while the molten gold was cooling.
In the middle of this pit was a single, amethyst egg with deep, violet spots speckled across its surface.
“Do you see it?” Cinder asked.
Ghost felt his mouth go dry, and he didn’t know why. “I...I see it,” he said.
“Bring him to me…”
Ghost obeyed, gingerly picking up the egg with all the care he could manage. He carried it to the dying dragon, covering the space of the hoard as fast as he dared, before he finally, finally, nestled it into her waiting claws.
She smiled as she felt its smooth, fragile shell. “My son…” she said, her voice gathering strength as she held him. “Oh, my son...I weep for you. Your life will be hard, and your years lonely, but you will grow to such strength that the Dragon Lord himself will yield to you. This I know, now avenge me, Son of Cinder, avenge your mother.”
She coughed, arms trembling, before she passed the egg toward Ghost. “Take him, and let him grow, let him avenge me, when I couldn’t…” she said with a cough.
Ghost took the egg, and glanced up as Cinder turned her eyes up to the ceiling of her cave.
And then she was still.
Ghost stared up at the corpse, before he glanced down at the egg.
It was warm.
His mouth was still dry.
“P-...poor little guy,” Ghost said despite himself.
This little egg was alone now, alone with no one to care for him, trapped in a cage of eggshell, and unaware of the world beyond. If he lived long enough to hatch, then his life would be hard. He’d fight and struggle and steal for food, he’d be pushed around by those larger and stronger than him, he’d fight, but it wouldn't matter.
His fate was already decided. It didn’t matter what he was like, his life would make him hard and uncaring long before the end.
“Poor little guy…”
Ghost reached for his pouch, hesitated, and then pulled a piece of cloth, the silk cloak of the pony he killed all that time ago. Working carefully, he wrapped the egg securing around himself, and nestled it on his back, where it would be safe.
They both didn’t need to suffer.
With that thought echoing in his head, Ghost walked into the entrance tunnel, looking for a place to sleep while leaving Cinder and her hoard to rest for eternity.
“Alright,” Steel Lance said to his group of dragonslayers as they prepared to storm the cave that morning. “We got this, with the sunlight behind us, and the wound we gave her yesterday, we’ll definitely have the advantage.”
The four other ponies nodded.
“With luck she bled out last night, and all we have to do is claim the treasure.”
“If we’re lucky,” the pegasus beside him said.
“Hey, we’ve done this before,” Steel continued, “we can do it again and come away as rich ponies. There’s no way we can go wrong.”
“You know, except burning to death,” the unicorn said.
“We’re prepared for that. We have this.”
“Yeah, yeah,” said the other earth pony. “Less talking more killing, that hoard’s going to buy me a new farm.”
“You mean your share of it,” the pegasus growled.
“Guys, enough. We need to kill the dragon first, then we can talk shares, and everypony’s getting an equal share.”
“Yeah, yeah. Let’s go already.”
Steel nodded, and turned to face the open cave. “We’ve got this,” he said, before leading the charge. The other followed close behind, eager to find and slay the dragon they wounded the day before.
They didn’t even make it to the antechamber.
Ghost made sure of that.