//------------------------------// // It Seemed Like a Good Idea at the Time // Story: The Dragon in the Mountain // by ShouldNotExist //------------------------------// -It Seemed Like a Good Idea at the Time- “This ain’t the same unicorn, bush-brains! Its coat’s the wrong color!” “How am I supposed to know what it looked like? All I know is it was a unicorn!” I snapped open the eye that wasn’t against the ground but was careful not to move so I wouldn’t alert the two new presences on the path. It was daylight now and light streamed in through the canopy in wide rays. It was completely quiet save for the two voices bickering just outside of my vision. “I heard it was a blue unicorn from Maple, this one is green,” the first voice said. His voice was light and with the pitch of a younger pony, but an accent I was unfamiliar with gave all of his words a strange sing-song feel to them. I shut my eyes tightly again, afraid they would notice I was actually awake. “You can’t trust anything Maple’s said after last year’s rut where he got his rack knocked off!” the second voice replied, a scoff escaping him. This voice was once again obviously from a younger pony, though his was much deeper than his friend’s. Again the strange accent made all of his words simply slip around and just start to blend together. “Maple might as well have told you that he saw a hippogriff too, Fern. Don’t listen to that guy.” “Yeah, well this one is obviously a travelling performer, not a knight,” Fern’s voice replied defiantly. “Just look at its lyre, and there ain’t nothing but food and books written in Pony words in the bags! This ain’t the unicorn we want,” he said again, a frustrated grunt in his words. “We still gotta bring it in! The master says we’re either supposed to bring in every pony coming through here or to scare ‘em off,” the still unnamed voice put in. “Well I don’t want to carry her,” Fern argued, and it seemed like he might have continued if an annoyed huff hadn’t cut him off directly on the other side of me. The annoyed sound was close enough that I felt my mane moving from the breath. “Would you two knot-heads shut up!” a harsh feminine voice cut, drawing both of the bickering voices to a dead halt. “It’s already awake anyway. Get up pony,” she said, finishing by nudging me with a surprisingly small hoof. I opened my eyes quickly, swiveling my head around to get a look at my unwanted visitors. However I was struck dumb when I was not met with the faces of some angry ponies. “You’re … deer?” I said intelligently, garnering another annoyed huff from the doe standing over me. The two young stags gave each other a look as if they were just realizing the same thing I had, their small sets of horns pointing skyward. “Yes, and you are pony. Now get up,” the doe commanded, her hoof pushing against my shoulder with slightly more force. I did as I was told this time, though not without letting my confusion paint obviously on my face. “Good, now that it’s awake you don’t have to carry it. You can walk, yeah?” she asked me flatly. She looked at me the way a pony might look at a withered plant or a weed, upset that I existed. “Yes … ?” I replied. Without waiting for me to continue with a follow up question, the doe lowered her head and began pushing me up the path with her two companions moving in to walk beside me. “Hey! Wai- Where are we going?” I sputtered, prancing about on suddenly nervous hooves as the doe continued to headbutt my flank to keep me moving. “Stop talking!” the doe grunted, giving one last shove that sent me staggering several steps in front of her. I was able to recover my footing fast enough, and thankfully that was where she ended her shoving. “You broke the rules, now Master will decide your punishment,” Fern said as an aside to me, making an effort for the doe not to hear. I flinched in surprise when I found his face right next me and nearly bowled into the other young buck standing on my other side. They looked a lot like ponies, but it was like everything had been stretched up and slimmed out so thin that they were practically walking on toothpicks compared to pony hooves. Not to mention the huge ears and rather prominent protrusions of bone from the tops of the two young stags’ heads. “Who’s your master?” I asked him quietly after I’d recovered, moving quickly to avoid another headbutt from the doe behind me. “He lives in the castle just that way, up the mountain,” Fern stated while nodding up the mountain, as if it were something that any foal should have known. And he simply left it at that, continuing to walk without looking toward me again. The walk was long, and rather boring once Fern had decided that he was done talking to me. I’d tried asking a few more questions just to start a conversation, even offered to play a song. While the song offer had garnered some amount of a reaction out of the two stags, a surprisingly loud snort from the doe quickly made them go back to completely ignoring me. As we climbed the path became steeper and steeper, beginning to wind back and forth up the mountain constantly. The trees only became taller and thicker as we went, the darker pines and deciduous trees mixing in with the thin wiry trees. Some of the smaller trees even looked like they’d grown up the thicker trees, like big bark covered vines. Never did we leave the dappled shadows of the forest, even though the light streamed through generously here. Fern suddenly bumped into my side, steering me into the bushes as we reached a place where the path leveled out slightly. The other deer followed as if nothing had happened, forcing me through the thick brambles and off the path. I sputtered out a protest but was effectively smothered by the bush I’d suddenly found myself swimming through. A thin pair of hooves wrapped around mine, thin bands of iron pulling me through the rest of the way to collapse on the other side in an inelegant heap. I looked up only to see the doe roll her eyes before stepping back to let me stand. Somehow all three of the deer had made it through the bush before me, whether or not it was simply because I ended up stuck or because of some innate ability of theirs to traverse the undergrowth, I’d never know. This was no longer the unkempt path of the Everfree, the ground below my hooves was packed hard and devoid of anything more than a stray leaf that had fallen on it. It was a thin well used path, far more than the previous one had appeared anyway. “Where-” I tried, only to be silenced by a small hoof suddenly jammed into my mouth by the doe. She glared hard at me, an obvious sign that if I didn’t take the hint she’d personally make me regret it. I clammed up fast despite the tinge of irritation toward her making my hooves feel hot and my horn give off an errant spark. “No talking, no magic!” the doe barked at me, moving up to press her face into mine. I hadn’t really realized how much taller she was than me until now. “Or I could have Vines gag you, I don’t really care which one.” she growled, and I flinched back despite myself. The other stag, Vines it would seem, tilted his head to wave his horns in my direction. Fern stepped in, taking the space where the doe had been only a moment ago. “When we take you inside, you need to be on your best behaviour,” he said, his words calm and flat. There was none of that carefree tone I’d heard before, he was all business now. “Don’t speak unless spoken to. Don’t look in the Master’s eyes. Don’t ask questions about where you are. And for the love of everything that is green and growing, do not mention the sky,” he said, giving a nervous glance upwards as if he expected something to drop down on him. “Let’s get moving, the master will not be patient with us over something like this,” the doe said, turning swiftly and bounding down the trail through the forest. Vines snorted derisively toward Fern, nodding toward me before following the doe. “Don’t mind Moonstone, she’s had a tough summer,” Fern said gently, gesturing that I should follow. He began walking at a fast pace and I was forced to keep up. “Try to keep quiet though, if you upset the master the consequences will not be pretty,” he said ominously, and any sense of companionship I’d started to find in him disappeared. I couldn’t help but notice how daintily the deer walked, as if they were always dancing. Same with how they spoke, it was as if they put a cadence to their words. Almost like a song with no rhyme or reason, just bits of lines smacked together. The moment we emerged from the foliage my train of thought derailed, hit a berm, and flipped into a lake. What was revealed when the foliage fell away was something I’d never think I’d see outside of a book: A castle hidden in the clouds. It towered over us the tiny path, huge tumbling spires reaching to the sky as if to grasp it. Sweeping parapets dominated its outward face, I could clearly see where ponies would stand to keep watch over the lands that the castle overlooked. The intricately woven portcullis lay closed, both beautiful and shielding. It hung from the mountain as if placed there by the hoof of Celestia herself, impossibly pressed against the side of the mountain and surpassing the peaks with its towers. And all the while the clouds shifted like fog around it, caressing its edges like a soft blanket. But the longer I looked, the more I realized just how ancient this place was. And dead. Grasses and clover hung within the cracks between the stones. Creeping vines dominated the tall towers and filled their tops with greenery. A tree had punctured through what I could only guess was the either the throne room or a ball room, its branches pushing up what had once probably been a beautiful glass ceiling. As much as it dominated the mountain, nature ruled its halls. “Welcome to Cottenhorn Castle, little pony,” Fern said, breaking into a gallop toward the monolith. ~~~~~~~~~ __/v \/v v\___/v VVv V\_____/Vv\__ ~~~~~~~~ Birds of colors and shapes I’d never imagined existed before flitted from nest to woven nest along the sides of parapets, their calls echoing off unseen mountainsides. The portcullis loomed within its gatehouse, vines creeping up its borders toward the pointed keystones in its arches. I could see shapes and symbols of all kinds woven into the metal as if it was nothing more than a crochet project. It was difficult for me to keep looking at the ancient architecture, my own laboured breathing from the hard run up the mountain cast clouds over my muzzle. And the gatehouse’s roof soon overtook my view of the castle, replacing it with the ominous sight of flumes where boiling oil would have been poured. The tall deer rolled their eyes at me, hardly even noticing the climb. Thin arrow slits surrounded us, and if it weren’t for the fact that this castle was obviously so old that they had not been used for centuries I would have thought that guards were peering through them at this very moment. Old wooden boards creaked under my hooves, a feeble barrier between me and whatever lay at the bottom of the death holes that I now walked over. It sent a shiver of fear through me. And it finally sank in that I was not a guest here, I was no better than a prisoner with these deer. I was to meet with whoever this ‘Master’ was, and he would decide my fate. Perhaps I could convince him to help me, even if there is no dragon up here. Perhaps whoever this deer was, he could be reasoned with? Without another word, Vines turned toward the gate and lifted his head high. A piercing whistle split the air, and it took me a moment to realize that it was Vines making the sound. He stretched the whistle out for the longest time, until I was sure he’d used the last of his breath. But by the time he finished another whistle joined his, and another, and another. And with that the gate moved. It did not rise, or even sink into the ground as I had expected a portcullis to. Though this one obviously had not moved in a very long time, I quickly found out why. The metal itself twisted and writhed, as if a thousand slumbering metal snakes had suddenly woken. Rings of metal spun around, some cutting through stray creepers that had gotten too close to their paths. Before my eyes a circular doorway had opened in the portcullis, just big enough for a pony to walk through. Vines ducked his head to fit his antlers through and disappeared through it, then Moonstone as well. Before I had time to truly appreciate the ancient and invisible magics that I’d just witnessed Fern pushed at my flank to move me toward the door. And before I knew it I was facing down the smashed wooden door to the main hall. I stared into the dark entrance dumbly, the darkness where the once great wooden doors had occupied gaped like the maw of a huge stone beast. Intricate carvings surrounded the doorway, ancient images of forests, flowers, ponies, deer, birds and everything in between climbed upwards in a perfect arc. When I looked back the gate had returned to its impenetrable sculpture, and the deer were gone. The door was the only place I could go, the overgrown courtyard was devoid of decoration and whatever doors lined its walls were sealed tightly. When I stepped into the darkness the temperature of the air instantly climbed. It was like stepping into the warm mead hall after having been caught in the first freeze of fall. All around me, the greenery spread. This castle was theirs, and it had been that way for so long that there was hardly any stone left untouched by the forest. Vines and grasses, bristling with summer flowers hung from the arching roofs. And the castle was all the more beautiful for it. Late afternoon light streamed through the shattered windows, dust danced in its warmth through the air. What had once been a chandelier lay fallen and rusted atop what was once a fountain, bushes of bright berries bristled from their shared grave. Tattered tapestries and moldy murals lined the walls, telling stories with their pictures. I was certain I could see a pictogram of the Princesses on one of them. At the end of the entrance hall was a gigantic doorway, one that should have lead into the throne room. But huge choking roots had burst through the door, the snaking trees beyond climbing the walls and much of the center. Steaming water rolled over them, taking a sharp turn toward a set of stairs that twisted downward farther into the castle’s bowels. My hoofsteps echoed off the walls as I approached the throne room, it seemed the logical place to look first for the deer’s master. Within I found the roof strained under the relentless growth of the trees, cracks and missing panels let golden light streak through and paint itself on the green and brown. The throne itself was overtaken by the largest tree in the room, having grown directly from the seat itself. Its roots spread out like a hill around the tall backed chair, whether a staircase had been there before or not was impossible for me to tell past them. Its branches were holding up the ceiling as much as they were shredding it. I looked at it with a mixture of awe and disappointment that something that had once probably been beautifully crafted had been destroyed. The water I’d seen coming in was bubbling out of an alcove and into a pool behind the throne, many of the roots fighting for space inside it. I took a step around the wide base of the throne to get a closer look, it almost looked like the water was tinged slightly red for some reason. And that’s when one of the trees moved. The water in the pool rippled suddenly, a large root suddenly disappearing from its edge. What I had taken as a large wall of leaves draping down from the branches suddenly vanished, and a huge lump of roots was no longer where I’d thought it was before. The shadows at the edges of the throne room suddenly seemed much darker, the rustling of leaves darting around and around the room as something large circled me. My legs locked up, refusing to heed my want to turn and run. I was stuck with my head on a swivel, desperately trying to keep whatever was hiding in the greenery in sight. But it moved too fast, all I ever caught was a shifting shadow or shifting set of leaves. I couldn’t breath, my heart and my lungs were fighting for space in my chest. A voice like thunder rose from the darkness, echoing off all the walls and shaking shattered bits of the ceiling down: “Who dares walk through my forest and intrude on my sleep?” it said. My knees gave out under me in fear. I stared into the dark corners of the throne room in a panic, unable to speak. Even if I could have formed words I wouldn’t know what to say. “SPEAK, PONY!” the voice bellowed, more tiles of the ceiling falling. A choked yelp escaped me, my legs suddenly pedaling my back up against the roots around the throne and I started babbling. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to wake you up! I just wanted to help my friend!” I choked out, still desperately trying to find the source of the voice. “I just need to find somep- someone! I promise as soon as I find them I’ll leave the forest and never come back!” A tree rocked back, something heavy thudding against it and disappearing before I could see it. “You will find no one here to help you pony, leave and do not return.” “Please! All I need is somepony to show me where to go. I’ll get what I need and leave! That’s all I ask!” I pleaded, looking toward the tree that had shaken with tearful eyes. Once again I felt hopeless, helpless. If I didn’t come back with something to help Bon-Bon she would die. “What you ask for is too much,” the voice rumbled, the shaking around the room returning as whoever it belonged to continued to circle me. Like a cat sneaking up on its prey. “Please, I-” “THIS IS NO PLACE FOR PONIES, LEAVE AND LIVE OUT YOUR SHORT LIFE AMONG YOUR OWN KIND!” it yelled, leaves and tiles alike falling from the ceiling. “SHE’S DYING!” I yelled desperately, tears now streaming down my face. Surprisingly the rustling stopped, and the entire room fell silent. I heard a sound like a rattlesnake’s sneaking its way through the trees. “Please, there’s a rosebud on her cheek. I’ll do anything!” I cried, a slow rustling building up behind me. I turned my head slowly, squinting through the tears in my eyes … and screamed. A dragon’s head snaked around the throne, looking down at me past its long scaly snout. It’s head was nearly as large as I was, scales of all shades of green spreading out from its long crystalline purple horns. Piercing purple spheres stared back at me, no pupil reflecting back my image. A wing’s claws wrapped around the other side of the trunk, it’s huge spiked tail waved in the air behind it like a huge cat’s. “I cannot save your friend, no one for thousands of miles can save a mortal who has shared a kiss with Death,” it said, it’s huge maw barely moving in order to form the words. “And my price to find you a cure would be too high for you. Leave,” the dragon ordered, turning away from me and stalking through the trees toward the throne room’s doors. It’s uneven steps barely made a sound on the roots. It was a wyvern, a dragon with two legs and muscular wings that it employed as another set of legs. The wings claws gripped the ground, pulling him forward before his limping rear legs followed. I scrambled to my hooves, a singular thought in my head: A line from a book written thousands of years ago by a great unicorn. I just hoped it was true. Dragons are creatures of magic, to them word is law and an agreement is a pact written in blood. “Wait, please!” I called, stumbling over the uneven roots. I sprinted through the door after the dragon, nearly slipping on a slick puddle before I was able to run in front of it. Mercifully it stopped, looking down at me with a raised eye ridge that bristled with spikey scales. “I’ll do anything, please,” I begged, trying to make myself look as pitiful and groveling as possible. Dragon’s liked it when ponies groveled didn’t they? “I- I don’t have any gold, but- I have to do something to save my friend. Please! Nopony else in my village can help her, I’m the only one!” The dragon stared at me for a moment, or through me, I couldn’t tell with his pupil-less eyes. The only indication of where he was looking were the lines in his irises that took up his entire eye, two shining purple marbles. His eyebrow lowered and a scowl formed on his face, I could tell I’d upset him. I looked down from his face, only to notice that he was favouring one back leg. The scaly muscular legs were held close to one another, three dexterous toes spreading his weight in the front and two thicker toes supporting the heel of his claw. But his left leg was missing one of the back toes. The green toe that Pierce had … it came from this dragon. I knew what I could offer that the dragon would want: “I- I could bring you back your missing toe!” I said suddenly, looking back up at the dragon. It’s only reaction was its widened eyes, so I went on. “A pony! He came to our village bragging about it, it’s probably still where he left it when they took him to lock him up! It would only take me a little while to-” “You will tell me where, it will be quicker for me to go … And then I will consider your request,” it said, his surprised look returning to a scowl. And panic filled me again. “No! You can’t go to the village! Please! I-” I started to say, hoping I could convince the dragon to let me leave and come back with his missing toe. The thought of touching the dismembered, scaly, sharp, still bleeding, claw again made me shiver, but it would be better than letting Bon-Bon die. However, the dragon cut me off sharply: “KNOW YOUR PLACE!” it bellowed, making the castle shudder again. “I hold power here, not you-” it paused, a smoky snort from its nostrils lessening the scowl on its face. “How dare you presume you can tell me what I can and cannot do! This is my kingdom! Everything from the horizon to this mountain belongs to me! Even that which hides below the clouds is mine! That pony has stolen something of mine, and the punishment for thievery is DEATH!” it bellowed, taking a heavy step forward with its huge wing. Its claw slammed into the stones, shaking them enough to knock my hooves out from under my crouched and cowering form. I let out a desperate cry, trying to back away from the dragon. Its tail twisted around, the heavily armored arrowhead shaped end slamming into the stones behind me as it reared up on its rear legs. It slammed back down onto the mossy cobbles, now crouched threateningly over me. Its neck coiled back like a snake ready to strike, its head aimed straight down toward me. Its scales flexed up and down its body, suddenly making it seem almost twice as large and all the more bristling with spikes. And then, in a voice surprisingly quiet, it spoke again: “As punishment for your resistance and your trespass, you will be my slave. You belong to me. And until you tell me where this thief has taken what is mine, I will make sure that your friend never receives what she needs,” the dragon hissed, its armored nose nearly brushing against my horn. It pulled away slowly, scales sliding and shaking against each other in that rattlesnake sound I’d heard before. Its tail slid away from me, digging a furrow through the invading clover and grass as he turned away. One of his wings swung over me, a wall of air knocking me over again as he made his way to the stairwell that the water went through. Its nimble claws used the wall of the tower to span a gap in the stairs where they had fallen going downward. And then it was gone. I felt the dam break, whatever shock or pride or fear that had kept me from totally breaking down was gone now, and I sobbed like a foal. Everything had amounted to nothing, anything the village had done amounted to nothing. Bon-Bon would die, sweating and choking in her sweaty sheets on that uncomfortable cot. A dragon knew where our village was, and perhaps had known from the very beginning. I’d angered that dragon, and for all I knew it was ready to fly out and burn it down all because I’d opened my stupid mouth. And I’d lost the only thing I’d ever truly called my own; me. Just like that I was a slave. My future, as dull as it might have been, had at least been mine. But now it was whatever cruel yoke that this dragon fixed on me. I’d thought, so stupidly, that if I just gave him something he would want he might agree. But I should have known he would never trust a pony to bring back his toe. Why did I have to be so stupid? I took a shot in the dark, and shot my own hooves for the effort. I’m not really sure how long I just sat there in the drafty entrance hall of the castle I’d once looked at as fantastical. But after a while I heard soft hoofsteps making their way toward me through the green floor. I could feel them stop next to me, four slender hooves making deliberate sound as they scuffed at the moss and silt. I felt the tears coming again, I didn’t want anypony to see me like this. But the hooves never moved, and suddenly I felt gentle, warm breath stirring the mane around my folded ears. The deer didn’t say anything, simply pressing their nose into my mane in a comforting embrace and letting me cry. But not for much longer. “Come with me pony, I will find you a place to rest. Heavy days ahead,” Fern’s voice said gently, his breath blowing warmly over my head. Slowly, he guided me up onto my legs with a gentle slender hoof. I held tightly to his slender frame, almost afraid that I might break him but at the same time not caring. He guided me forward gradually, making sure I wouldn’t trip on the uneven ground. But when I realized he was guiding my toward the staircase I balked. I wanted to wait for as long as possible before I had to be anywhere near it again. “It’s okay, we go up the stairs,” Fern said quietly, lifting his other hoof to stroke one of my hooves. “Only the Master goes into the dungeons. Where the forest does not follow we do not follow,” he said, again leading me toward the stairs. “Tomorrow is a new day, I show you the castle and how to care for it. The Big Horn will give you jobs, then I show you how,” he said gently, slowly leading my up the stairs. And for a while I climbed beside Fern, taking slow steps and listening to the wind whistle through the towers. But after awhile I realized that Fern had almost silently started singing, something melancholy and bit sad. For once I was content to simply listen, even if my lyre was right there and I already knew the notes that would make the song truly flow. “Thoul’t aye be dear to me,” he whispered, still leading me up the stairs. “Entwin'd thou art wi' mony ties, O' hame and infancy. Thy leaves were aye the first o spring, Thy flowr's the simmer's pride: There was na sic a bonnie tree, In all the country side. Oh rowan tree,” His voice rose and fell in pitch, he was a good singer. We passed several landings, going higher and higher. Twice we passed other deer, both the other young stags raised their heads to expose their necks and Fern paused shortly to raise his head as well. But he always continued. “How fair wert thou in simmer time, Wi' all thy clusters white. How rich and gay thy autumn dress, Wi' berries red and bright.” Climbing this staircase was like climbing a tree. Within the tower greenery lined the walls, but outside the leaves spread out wide like the branches of a tree. Only the strong ivy grew outside where the most sunlight was. “Oh thy fair stem were mony names Which now nae mair I see, But there engraven on my heart, Forgot they ne'er can be. Oh rowan tree.” Eventually we came to the last landing, emerging into the tower’s topmost room. Inside the leaves made the walls look like they’d grown fur, or were made from green clouds. Flowers and berries hung from the walls and ceiling in fragrant bundles. And huddled on the floor among a large clover patch were many deer; all pressed against each other, many asleep. Fern led me to the pile, motioning for me to lay down as he kept quietly singing. “We sat aneath thy spreading shade, The bairnies round thee ran, They pu'd thy bonnie berries red And necklaces they strang,” he whispered. The doe I’d lain next to shifted and laid her warm neck over my barrel, gently pushing my saddlebags off me. And she sang too. Slowly Fern was quietly joined by many of the deer. “My mither oh, I see her still, She smil'd our sports to see, Wi' little Weadie on her lap, Wi' Jahmie at her knee. Oh rowan tree.” Despite the awkwardness I felt as Fern laid down beside me and laid his head over my flanks, still singing, I found myself being sung to sleep. My head rested across another deer’s forelegs, but they didn’t seem to mind. “Oh, there arose my father's pray'r In holly evening's calm, How sweet was then my mither's voice In the martyr's psalm; Now a' are gan! We meet nae mair Aneath the rowan tree, But hallowed thoughts around tee twine O' hame and infancy.” They sang, and the light became less and less through the windows. Where had the day gone? Had it really been that long walking, and then trying to talk with the dragon? Maybe I’d been crying longer than I thought, there were so many reasons to cry now. “Don’t worry, you are one of us now, Pony,” Fern said gently, his chest pressing against my barrel as he yawned. “We are all servants to the Master, little Pony, that makes us equals.” “Lyra,” I said weakly, my throat strained. “My name is Lyra.” “Goodnight, Lyra,” Fern said gently, the doe draped across my back humming approvingly. “Dream of forests tonight.” And I did.