//------------------------------// // 9. Forced Landings // Story: Time to Shine // by Easysnuggler //------------------------------// “All over the word at an identical depth and age in the rock there is a layer of ash and strange heavy metals, and fossil markers for extremely cold weather. Geologists half-jokingly call it the dawn marker, thought by some to be the residue of that war. Above the marker are found fossils of griffons, unicorns, earth ponies, pegassai, dragons, felids, yaks, buffalo, zebras, diamond dogs, kirin, and many others but suddenly none of the apparent alicorns.” —Pena “On the Origins of Ponies*(*and Others) and Magic” 9. Forced Landings. That evening the new Dragon Lord headed for the dragon halls. Scorcher had checked immediately but the other dragons nearby had not awoken. Kobolds swirled about him, and the occasional dragon flew back and forth in the valley of their caldera home. He sat heavily upon a stone couch in the council hall that led to the still sleeping Smolder. As the impromptu celebration died down, Scorcher asked the kobolds to hang draperies between the entrance to the hall of the council and doorway to the chamber of the slumbering dragoness. Unsure of what to do next, Scorcher asked the kobolds to summon the dragons to the speaking circle at dawn, and to be there themselves. He ate lightly, and chatted with Rizi, kobolds and the occasional dragon as the night wore on. Rizi began to relax as she continued talking to Scorcher. He spoke to her kindly and with patience, and she had become quite loquacious; she asked him questions about anything and everything. When asked, he said he didn’t know how long he’d slept. He asked her what year it was. She asked what he meant by what year it was. He had to explain that it was a record of the moons and seasons to both her and more surprisingly the dragons. They had simply not been keeping a calendar, relating years to their own personal experiences. None of the dragons knew or seemed to understand why it mattered. The latest date he could find was carved on a coin from a mere hundred and sixty years after he went to sleep. Scorcher guessed that they had other concerns and that time had just been passing them by as it sometimes did with dragons, faster and faster, the years blurring together. Scorcher walked on all four legs from his hall and paused beside Smolder’s giant stone marker. There, written in letters taller than a juvenile dragon were the words “By the will of Smolder: No dragon may leave the valley, ever for any reason.” Smirking to himself he breathed in deeply and then let loose a fiery blast to melt the obsolete words from the rock. To his surprise the words remained. What in the world? he asked himself. Some magic? “What's this? He asked?” rubbing the surface of the cool stone. No matter. He turned and walked the broad steps that led downward. Stretching his wings, he flew down to the amphitheater. Stopping at the edge of the circle he pulled the chain ringing the largest bell loudly seven times. He thought the kobolds would appreciate that. The other dragons looked at him attentively. The kobolds, unused to being included in these surroundings, tried to find places to sit over behind between and amongst the great fire wyrms. The hatchlings sat in the center. Kobolds of course had vision that was bad in the day, and they tried to sit with the sun to their back to watch the proceedings. After a few cursory remarks and some basic discussion of the need to get help, Scorcher was beginning to become frustrated with his fellow dragons. When Drizzle told him flat out that he couldn’t leave, his patience finally snapped. “I’m going to Canterlot. Personally. This is going to break an agreement we had with the ponies. But the circumstances cause it to be necessary. “ “But Scorcher you can’t leave.” Dust said. “Watch me.” Without stopping or even looking back he leapt into the air headed West and North. Voices rose in protest and question, kobolds scattered in all directions. Dust and Searcher took off after him, but they were new to flying and he left them behind him as he rolled in the air and beat his wings powerfully. He felt great, confident, full of power and energy. The sun began to rise higher behind him, and the world was lit with a warm morning glow. The two smaller dragons were shouting at him, but he ignored them for the moment. Yes, everything glowed in the morning light. He smiled to himself and soared up and up. Approaching the mountain ridge that marked the border to the dragon lands he felt a tingling from the Bloodstone Scepter still clutched in his front claws. It was hard to put down. He kept picking it up and after a while gave up and just took it with him. As he swept up the mountainsides the two pursuing dragons shouted at him to wait. But he ignored them, flying faster even as they closed on him. Flying up the center of the near vertical face between the mountains he saw below him the broad stone road that led straight through the pass to the Celestial Sea and beyond that, the pony capital. He would be there by dusk the following evening at this rate. He felt he could fly forever. As he crested over the Mountains that marked the edge of their domain, Scorch looked back out over the hills and valleys leading to the Eastern Lair of the Dragon Range and smiled. Dusk and Search had almost caught up. ‘I’ll lead them all the way to Canterlot’, he thought. Without warning and flying at full speed, Scorcher suddenly hit an invisible barrier. The barrier flashed and blazed in blue lightning. Scorcher was blinded in agony. The big red dragon felt intense pain as electricity ran along his body. The blue rubbery wall of force flung him away from the dent he had made in it. His vision was whited out and his scales smoked. Scorcher was almost rendered unconscious by the tremendous pain. He began to fall towards the valley and the rocks below. Dust and Search grabbed his arms and legs, the powerful orange drake snagging his torso and the white dragoness managed his lower half. Together the three of them flailed/flew to the rocks below landing heavily. They lay there among the stones of the road. The Bloodstone Scepter clattered on the ground still clutched in his claw. “You can’t”, she panted heavily “leave”. “No dragon can,” said Search, breathing and wheezing. Scorch's vision began to clear. He looked back towards the caldera at the distant mountain and Dragonholme. “Smolder?” “Smolder” “It's a shield?” “Yes, it is said that a prince of the ponies taught her.” Scales still smoking slightly Scorch smiled ruefully. “Yes. Shining Armor. Smolder showed me once. She learned to teleport things she could burn with her breath, and she learned shields. But this. This is impossible, he said. It's so big.” “Smolder said she used most of her remaining magic, erecting it. Every dragon says that’s why she’s still sleeping. You knew her well back then?” asked Search. His orange scales were scuffed and scratched by the rocks. “Yes, when we were smaller. We grew up together. She was older than I was, but she went to a school the ponies had back then. She was the first. Ember sent her. I went there with others the year after.” “They say she powers it in her sleep - it won't stop till she wakes.” remarked Dust, her filthy white and gray hide covered in her namesake. All her pretty lavender spines were askew. “Scratch. Scratch and Bite.” said Scorcher.