//------------------------------// // The Beast // Story: The Wyrd of a Dragon // by Gizogin //------------------------------// The Wyrd of a Dragon Chapter Four "Ow!" Trixie rubbed gingerly at the sore spot on her forehead, just below her hairline. She hoped it wouldn't bruise; her stagehands were excellent at what they did, but even they would have trouble hiding a goose-egg with makeup. "That little..." "Trixie! Are you okay?" That voice... Was that...? "Twilight?" Trixie asked. She blinked a few times, trying to clear the stars and blurriness from her eyes, and found that, rather than Spike's mental library, she was back in the hospital ward. "What am I doing back here?" Twilight scrutinized the unicorn, checking to make sure she was unhurt. When she was satisfied, she answered, "I can't say for certain, but based on the feedback when the spell ended and your reaction to waking up, I'd guess that Spike kicked you out." "He can do that?" "Apparently." Twilight watched anxiously as Trixie rose to her hooves and shook the stiffness out of her legs. "What happened? Did you find out why Spike won't wake up?" "Trixie was about to figure it out, before that infuriating colt threw a book at her head." There were no mirrors in the room, for some reason, so Trixie couldn't assess the damage. A hoof-examination found that her horn, though mercifully unhurt, was alarmingly warm to the touch. Thank Celestia for small blessings. At least it wasn't the spear. Twilight, meanwhile, was frantically checking the array of machines hooked up to the sleeping dragon. "This doesn't make any sense!" she said, grabbing a stack of hastily written notes from the table. "There shouldn't have been enough change in his brain rhythms to snap the bridge like that." Thrusting a printout with a bunch of squiggly, red lines in Trixie's face, she said, "Look! His alpha waves are well within the safe region, and so are his thetas!" "Is this supposed to mean something to Trixie?" Surliness was, Trixie thought, an appropriate attitude to take after having been forcefully ejected from the thoughts of the ungrateful dragon she was trying to help. Twilight's eyes narrowed. "Trixie," she said, her tone taking on an unsettling edge, "tell me exactly what happened." Take two, Trixie thought as the dark spire of Spike's mind took shape before her again. Twilight Sparkle hadn't been very sympathetic to Trixie's recounting of events, especially after Trixie had - justifiably, she thought - accused Spike of being stubborn and ungrateful. For some reason, Twilight had taken offense, and only Trixie's quick offer to go back in and finish the job had managed to save her from a forcible demonstration of how much power an angry alicorn could bring to bear. The exchange had taught Trixie a few things: first, that Equestria's youngest princess had quite a temper; and second, that, when one is a guest in another's mind, one should be careful not to anger one's host. Apparently, Spike had interpreted Trixie's snooping as an attempt to steal his secrets and responded appropriately. Nothing about the outside of the tower had changed since Trixie's last visit, save for the absence of the Hero. Thankfully, the door was already open, and Trixie wasted no time in pushing her way inside. The foyer, too, was empty but unaltered. Is he still in the library? Trixie wondered. Assistant was right; he's not much of a guard. He even left the door open. Something about that struck her as odd, but she was in too much of a hurry to dwell. If the Hero wasn't in the library, then doubtless he would be on his way back to his post. It would be best, then, not to let him find her here. The last thing she needed was to be caught somewhere she wasn't supposed to be by a dragon with a lance and a grudge. Spurred on by that thought, Trixie stepped through the room's far door and into the labyrinth of tunnels beyond. Left, left, straight, straight, second on the right, left, right, then one, two, three torches and right... The way the Hero had talked them up, these tunnels were supposed to be twisting and dangerous, with a safe path that was difficult to remember and impossible to get back to if strayed from. Nonsense, Trixie scoffed. The path they'd taken to get to the library had been barely two dozen turns; with no conversation or scenery to distract her, Trixie had occupied herself by committing it to memory. By her reckoning, she was more than halfway through her trek when a sudden sound make her ears perk up. It was faint, just at the edge of her hearing, but there could be no mistaking the sound of steel on stone. Hero! He was coming this way, getting louder and closer with every heavy step. There was only one path here, with no branches or alcoves for Trixie to hide in; he'd see her for sure. Come on, Trixie! What kind of third-rate magician can't make herself disappear? Of course, it was one thing to disappear on stage, where she had the advantage of trap-doors and smoke bombs; it was another thing entirely to vanish from a narrow corridor of solid stone, where the only decorations were a few green torches. Her only recourse was to double back; if she could just reach the last split in the tunnel before the Hero rounded the bend, she could hide down a different path. Her mind made up, Trixie walked slowly and deliberately back down the hallway. She didn't run or sprint; the last thing she could afford was to make noise and give herself away. Tucking herself as tightly as possible against the rough wall and hoping that the shadows would hide her, Trixie waited. Three hundred pounding heartbeats later, the silhouetted form of a great, armored figure appeared in the mouth of Trixie's tunnel. It flickered in the torchlight, but there could be no mistaking that lance; it was definitely the Hero. For the first time in her life, Trixie cursed her luxurious mane and coat. Silver and blue were a perfect complement to stage lighting and pyrotechnics, but against the dark gray backdrop they stood out like stars at night. Her only hope was that the torch between her and the guard would ruin his night vision enough that she wouldn't be seen. Trixie held her breath for what felt like hours as the Hero continued his easy march down the hall. Evidently, she'd hidden well enough, as he didn't even glance in her direction. Still, Trixie didn't feel safe enough to leave her hiding spot until the Hero's footsteps finally faded out. A sigh of relief escaped Trixie's lips, and with the wash of relief came the realization that she had perhaps blown things slightly out of proportion. Even if the Hero had caught her, she had nothing to fear but a slight setback and a headache. At least nopony saw it, she reflected. Now, it's a right here, then a... left? Or was it two rights? "Oh." A lead weight dropped in Trixie's stomach. That little moment of panic had thrown off her mental map; after backtracking and ducking down a different corridor, she no longer knew which way to go. "Oh, no." It was hopeless. The dark tunnels all looked exactly the same, making every turn look both familiar and foreign. Trixie had taken her best guess at the sequence of turns, but once she'd reached the end of her mental list with no library in sight, she'd tried to retrace her steps to find out where she'd gone wrong. It was the worst possible thing she could have done; now, with no idea where she was and no idea where she'd been, Trixie couldn't even find her way back to the foyer to start again. With nothing else to do, Trixie started taking turns at random, hoping to find something she recognized. She supposed she could try to signal Twilight, but she considered that an absolute last resort. There was no way that the Great and Powerful Trixie would admit to something as foalish as getting spooked and forgetting where to go. Of course, the longer she wandered, the longer she would be stuck here. Admitting defeat would let her start over from the beginning, where at least she knew the way. Trixie was beginning to consider her chances of convincing the Hero to let her in, since there was little chance of the door being open the next time. Dealing with the Assistant would be another issue entirely, assuming she made it- The door was open? The thought stuck in her mind once again. Hero definitely closed it behind us the first time Trixie was here, so why would it be open this time? Wandering on autopilot, Trixie tried to make sense of the change and why it had stood out to her so much. Did somepony come in while the door was unguarded? It could be whatever's keeping Spike asleep! No, wait, that would have had to have happened before Trixie got here. Besides, Twilight was with him in the hospital the whole time, and she would have noticed something like that. Maybe the door isn't real, so it doesn't matter if it's open or closed? If that's true, though, why would I notice? This whole place runs on symbolism, and it it's important enough to stand out, then it has to mean something. But nopony could have come in... That line of thought came to an abrupt halt when Trixie finally found a door. It wasn't the door to the library; that had been wooden and irregular, while this was made of thick, unpainted steel. Even so, it was the only other landmark she'd seen, and it took her but a moment to shoulder it open and head inside. On the other side of the door was darkness. A pair of green braziers at the entrance illuminated a small oval of the floor and walls, but nothing could be seen beyond that. Trixie's hoofsteps didn't echo, as they had in the hall; if this space were still inside, it had to be massive. A gust of wind whipped Trixie's mane around her head and threatened to snuff out the twin flames behind her. It carried the stench of brimstone, making her gag for a moment before the air stilled again. Then came a thunderous rumbling, shaking the ground before it, too, came to a halt. Another blast of putrid air blew forth; a pause and another quake followed. It's snoring, Trixie realized. As for what 'it' could be, the answer was obvious: a dragon. The kind of beast that ponies told tales about, the ones with castles and princes and gallant knights; a creature twice as old as the cliffs it called home and half as forgiving. It would raze an entire village with one idle breath. The best a pony could do against something so vast was to pray not to be noticed, for to anger a dragon was to court obliteration. Trixie had to leave. She had to leave now. The door was but a few steps behind her; she could get away before the dragon woke up. She spun and ran for the door, intending to place a few inches of steel and several miles of tunnel between her and the dragon as quickly as possible, but in her haste she stumbled and slammed headlong into the metal. Dazed and upside-down, Trixie could only lie there in quickly-growing dread as an almighty crash rang into the darkness. Please don't wake up, please don't wake up, please don't wake up... Mid-rumble, the snoring sputtered and stopped. There was a sound like a rockslide in the distance, and suddenly the room wasn't dark anymore. Directly in front of Trixie, two emerald eyes the size of wagon wheels opened, their slit pupils narrowing as they focused on the unicorn. Below them glistened two rows of white blades, yellowing at the edges and wickedly sharp. Tongues of flame danced between them. In the light of the dragonfire, Trixie could see every scale on the beast's snout, along with the end of an impossibly-long neck that disappeared into the gloom and two claws resting beside its head. Beneath it were gemstones in every color and shape imaginable; the flickering light bouncing off their facets gave the impression of a technicolor sea. If what she could see were any indication, this dragon had a hoard that would rival the treasuries of any three countries Trixie could care to name. "Hello," Trixie called. There was no point trying to hide now, but maybe there was a chance of talking her way to safety. Dragons in stories were notoriously vain; for once, flattery would be her salvation. "You are a long way from home, little pony," the dragon said in a voice like a lead headstone, "and I care little for trespassers." "Trixie is sorry for waking you up, mister...?" She let the title hang, inviting the dragon to fill in the space. "The others call me Beast," he obliged. "Strange that you would not know. Why else would you be here?" The Beast was rapidly losing patience, judging by his fire. Thinking quickly, Trixie said, "But of course Trixie knows of you, great Beast. She simply did not recognize you from the others' description." Trixie let her stagecraft take over, her voice taking on a tone of awe as she added, "They failed to capture your majesty." Trixie's words were rewarded with a chuckle that could have split stone. "A flatterer, then. I suppose I should be grateful to be remembered at all." "'At all'?" Trixie scoffed. "How could anyone forget you? The others still cower in fear at the thought of provoking your anger, great Beast." It was a shot in the dark, but she was proud of her improvisation. She just had to hope that the Beast fit the mold. "And well they should," the Beast agreed. "Those insufferable pests have no respect for power anymore. Dragons should be feared." "You are feared, great Beast," Trixie insisted. "Why, even Hero is too terrified to walk your tunnels." The Beast rolled his enormous eyes; it was an oddly familiar gesture on such an intimidating visage. "Hero? An upstart, and nothing more than that. As if a dragon needed a lance." One claw lifted to scratch the Beast's chin, sending cascades of precious stones down the pile. "What I wouldn't give to put him in his place. Him and that sniveling secretary." "So what's stopping you?" Trixie asked. "Go out and teach them to fear you again." This was the riskiest gamble yet; the last thing she wanted to do was set this thing on a rampage around Spike's mind. She just had to hope he took it the right way and gave her an out. All she had to do was convince him that she could spread word of his majesty. Instead of the regretful sigh that Trixie had expected, the Beast fixed her with a suspicious glare. "Leave?" he bellowed. "I should have known. Silver tongues and black hearts are never far apart." "W-what do you mean?" Trixie's composure was failing fast. The Beast had seen something in her words, but without knowing what, Trixie couldn't steer things her way again. The Beast barely seemed to hear her. "It's the oldest trick in the book. Flatter the dragon into flying away and leaving his hoard behind so you can steal it. I should have known." Those brilliant eyes pressed down on Trixie through the force of their glare alone. "Such an amateurish attempt, too. Everyone knows the way to a dragon's heart is through his hoard." "I don't want your hoard!" Trixie protested. "I don't even know what's in it!" "Hah!" It was a sound more snarl than laugh. "Then you are a bigger fool than I took you for. What else would a dragon hoard but the most precious treasure that exists?" If that was meant to tell Trixie anything, it was lost on her. The Beast seemed to sense it; with an earth-shaking roar, he yelled, "Stories!" Still in the iron grip of panic, Trixie did the only thing that she could: she kept talking. "You mean memories? Trixie thought the Assistant-" "The Assistant? His shelves are full of nothing but facts and endless, worthless rules! Stories are not lists to be bottled up and broken down, and nothing worth hoarding can be found in a book." The Beast, with impossible grace, plucked a ruby the size of a cantaloupe from the pile beneath him. "Memories without feeling are just events. This is a story. And here is where yours ends." Trixie didn't hear his words. The Hero, the Assistant, and the Beast... They all do different things, but they're all part of Spike. It's no wonder they're arguing all the time; disagreeing is what they're for. The question is, what holds them together? Somewhere in the answer to that question was the way to wake Spike up; Trixie could feel it. It was with something close to apathy that Trixie finally looked up and saw the swirling green flames rush down to engulf her. As the vortex of impossible heat closed in and her vision went dark, all she could think of was how the pieces had finally come together.