//------------------------------// // New Partners // Story: Mystery of the Draconics // by Wanderwing //------------------------------// Mystery of the Draconics Chapter Two New Partners When I was born nineteen years ago my family had already been in hiding for four generations. We had learned to hide among the pegasi, but we still feared discovery constantly. From very young I was taught that I must hide who I am, what I am, to keep myself and my family safe. This was the only way of life I knew so I never really questioned it. The eyes, the eyes were always the hardest to hide. My kind has traditionally asked for aid from a few select unicorns for enchantments on objects it wouldn’t seem odd for us to be carrying. I was given a pendant with the symbol of the house of royal alicorns emblazoned on it. I wore it nearly every moment of everyday. The wings were also difficult but one of my ancestors solved that problem. He took bird feathers and weaved them together with fabric. He called them Feather-Folds, they were made to clasp under and behind the wing. This allowed us to hide our batlike, leathery wings to blend in with the normal pegasi. Normal was a word I quickly grew to despise, I hated that we were seen as different. Sometimes, as every young foal occasionally does, I would become angry and resentful. I had even hated my own being because “normal” was all I could ever strive to be. It is at this point I look up to the three ponies I had been talking to. They were each shining specimens of each race. The Pegasus was streamlined and looked like she could give me a run for my money in a fight, the unicorn simply gave off an, almost, aura of magic and intelligence, and the stallion earth pony was large, muscular, and covered in armor and his face had more than a few scars. The pegasus seemed a bit bored but the unicorn and large earth pony seemed interested. I knew that wouldn’t do, I needed both of them. Looking across to the pegasus who called herself Falling Star I asked her, “Sorry am I boring you?” She responded with, “I just don’t see what this has to do with the three of us.” “I am getting to that but just for you I will skip ahead a bit and just tell you why you are here. I need one of each of the pure pony races and as it turns out you are the best mercenaries of each,” I said. “Really?” she said, “Race is the reason for this, I knew this would be a waste of time, hell you just told us you are a member of a race that we know to be extinct.” Falling Star did not seem she would cooperate unless I could show her I was serious. I pulled my hood up and glanced around the room, seeing the place was mostly empty I reached to my pendant and dropped it on the table for just a second, just long enough for them to see my eyes flash back to their draconic shape. After I had replaced my pendant around my neck I shot to Falling Star, “Believe me yet?” She nodded but seemed a bit paler. “Okay but even if you are a…draconic why would you need each of the three races? What could possibly have such specific requirements?” The unicorn, calling himself Brightflare asked inquisitively. I responded with, “There is a certain door, in a certain long unexplored crypt beneath an abandoned Druid convent. I believe some remnant of the history for which I am searching may be hidden behind it.” “A worthy pursuit,” stated the large earth pony whose name I did not know. He came from a group of mercenaries, whom called themselves the Shieldstallions, his origin was unknown and I knew little about him other than that he was rumored to be the toughest old soldier who ever lived. I laughingly responded with, “I am glad you approve.” “I can tell you are anxious to know how and when I intend to pay you. I need very little of the other treasure this tomb is sure to hold, I would only keep ten percent as well as anything I found to be of historic importance to my purposes. That leaves thirty percent of any treasure found for each of you.” I said, noticing Star beginning to become interested again. Perhaps that rumor was true as well, I heard from a drunken pony in a pub who said he had hired her once, he said she had an almost unnatural attraction to jewelry and other finery. Perhaps I could use this to my advantage. “I also found evidence that a very rare gemstone is also contained within, it is believed to be contained by some sort of puzzle, and I propose a contest the first to solve the puzzle wins and keeps the gem.” I watched as I spoke and saw each of the group’s eyes light up at different points in my speech. Star’s lit at the words “rare gemstone,” Brightflare’s at the word puzzle, and the Shieldstallion’s at the word contest. Each of them looked like they loved the idea but then the Shieldstallion looked up to me and said, “My policy is that I usually need to be paid in advance. The first payment is generally around 500 bits, but I like the feel of this job, and I like the idea of the contest and it has been a long time since I have felt the urge to dive in like this. Just this once an exception is in order.” The other two nodded in agreement and so the deal was struck. We would be together, find our way through the crypt, and split the treasure. I then realized I still had not mentioned the risks. “I should warn you though, my information tells me the crypt is full of traps and a few ponies passing by have heard strange sounds coming from that ancient hallowed ground, I know it isn’t in my best interest but I wouldn’t feel right if I didn’t let you know.” “Wanderwing, do you really think we thought there was no risk? What kind of mercenaries would we be if we couldn’t handle a fight or two?” Shield asked. “Traps shouldn’t be much of a problem, they are a … specialty of mine.” said Brightflare, eyes sparkling. “Ok then,” I said, “We meet back here in three days. I need time to make a few preparations, get in a bit of last minute combat practice and see if I can find any more information about the crypt.” The three nodded and we went our separate ways. I sat there in that back room of the inn for a few moments and then said, “That spell won’t fool me; I know you’re there.” A small shimmer in a corner of the room and a unicorn, now revealed, cursed under his breath. He charged straight for the door and I could not stop him in time, as he fled the inn I chased him with all my speed, but once our chase led outside he teleported. Just before he did he turned back and said, “We know you now, we will come for you.” Then he vanished, I flew around the area for over an hour but I could not find him. I knew something like this could have happened but I couldn’t have gone into the crypt alone. I was tired from the pursuit and decided rest would be a more wise decision than going to practice. I went back to the room I had rented and slept for the night. As usual I built a barricade against the door, my self-defense instincts ignited by another new threat. As I slept I had strange dreams, I saw faces I did not recognize and heard voices I could not understand. I prayed my search would not be fruitless. I had to redeem my ancestors, prove their innocence or I would be forever tormented by the past. I saw war, battle, pain, fear, and hate. Blood, rage and death all around, then the battles stopped, all grew quiet. Then a voice, dripping with fear and hate, “You are monsters, and that is all you will ever be.” Other voices joined the first, I tried to speak, to argue against them, show them I was more, that I could do good things. I couldn’t speak. Whenever I tried a rope would appear and tighten around me. During these dreams I always thought I would die but instead I would wake up, dripping sweat and often screaming. I woke up the next morning restless as usual. I put the furniture back where it was when I arrived and prepared to head out. On my way through the common room I passed the owner, Warmhearth, and tossed her a bag with the weeks rent in it. Warmhearth is one of the few ponies I have trusted with my secret. She knew I was a draconic and she was willing to ignore the bit of oddity I have. Some ponies find paranoia unsettling but Warmhearth always saw the best in everypony and was even willing to overlook the occasional missed rent or bar tab. As I headed out to buy supplies I started thinking of my past again. I may not have had the most “normal” foalhood but that doesn’t mean it was an unhappy one. Before I got my cutie mark I was able to blend in pretty easily, small wings are easier to cover and before I learned to fly I could always keep them folded. I had a few friends but I was never particularly close to anypony. I found that I had a knack for history, most especially myths and stories. I also constantly read an old riddle book I had found in the attic of my family’s home. I got my mark as soon as I solved the first riddle. I fought the riddle for days but I figured it out in the end. I still remembered the words, “What eats all things including whoever holds it, grows as it is fed and never stops hungering?” I thought about it for a long time and tried a lot of different answers but I never looked at the answers or asked for help. I read a bunch of different books as I thought and I was reading one about dragons when the answer came to me, greed! Of course it was greed, not many things can consume endlessly and still continue to expand but greed, like a dragons hoard, which only wants more no matter how many gems or how much gold is added to it. Greed tears away at the spirit and will never leave you alone. That was when I got my mark, a dragon eye across the cover of a book. We had to change my medallion so it would remove the eye and leave only the dust covered book as my mark. It returns to the eye only when I remove the medallion. It was then I knew that discovering history and solving its mysteries was my purpose. When I got a bit older I began to question my parents and was shocked to discover they didn’t know much about our kind’s past at all. They were born into hiding the same way I was, but they did have a few stories they had been told by their grandparents. I realize how odd that must sound, two groups of individuals in hiding finding each other and both figuring out they have the same secret, but it happened and so here I am. There was one story that my father’s parents had found an old book and they were supposed to protect it. I had never told them about the book I had found in our attic or the riddles I had solved. Naturally hearing that this book may be quite important I reluctantly brought the book to my parents, fearing they would take it from me. My mother and father argued about what should be done, father saying we should hide the book away and continue to protect it, and mother saying I should be allowed to keep it because I had found my mark through it. In the end my mother won the debate and I was allowed to keep the book. I continued solving the riddles but now I wondered if they were even riddles at all, perhaps they were clues to the forgotten past of my race.