All's Right With The World

by Dusty Tome

Chapter Eight

Letting out a slow breath, Spike steadied himself. Emerald eyes hardened by pain and loss set themselves dead on Garble.

“Everythin’,” Spike mumbled, letting a roar build in his throat, “You took EVERYTHIN’!”

Screams tore loose from his throat with a burst of flame in sickly green, darkened crimson, and the black of damned rage. The flames darkened the area around him, almost appearing to flow from his scales.

“YOU TOOK EVERYTHIN’ FROM ME YOU BASTARD! I’LL FLAY YOUR HIDE AND HANG YOUR HEAD FROM MY FAMILY’S GRAVES!”

Garble turned, staring ahead with an irritated look that turned to horror at the onyx flames radiating from the drake in front of him. Spike saw him pale, and roared louder, a bestial sound that sent a few dragons running. He unslung the blade from his back and blew a mighty gout of blackened flame onto the cold steel, turning the blade a hateful, thirsty red, filled with the promise of vengeance and bloodshed.

Twilight looked from one dragon to the other, her skin crawling at the display. She could feel the heat and rage boiling off of Spike, escaping into the air in lashes of fire and smoke. Garble hovered a few hundred yards away, red scales glistening through the smoke surrounding him and his flight, his dark yellow eyes scanning about looking for a way to fight, the black flesh between the tendons in his wings looked torn and ragged, scales and spikes missing here and there. He looked at Spike with a mixture of contempt and fear, the horns adorning his crown furrowed in frustration, as he roared an acceptance of the challenge brought to him.

Knowing that Spike could handle this fight, Twilight flew past them as they fought, Spike’s gleaming brass wings keeping out of the reach of the larger drake until he had a chance to strike. She instead began to swoop in and out of the many smaller drakes watching the display.

She drew her sword, letting the emerald flames imbue the blade with deadly intent, as she wove in and out of the flight, striking here and there with bolts of ice or strikes of fire.

After dropping several of Garble’s followers, Twilight noted something small zip by in her peripheral vision. She let herself drop, her altitude more a matter of choice than aerodynamics. A moment later, she was nearly deafened by the explosion overhead. Still, sadistic laughter manage to pierce the ringing in her ears.

Twilight rolled her eyes even as she looked for a new opponent. Chiding Pinkamena would be worse than useless. At least Luna was taking this seriously.

The smaller drakes were soon overwhelmed by explosions, fire, and deadly swordplay, as the remainder either ran away or watched in rapt awe at the display of vengeance and hatred before them.

Spike swung wide, flinging the flames across the wings of the dragon below him, roaring and screaming all the while. Garble fought back for all that he was worth, furiously swiping at the smaller drake, maneuvering to protect his damaged wings while trying to gain the upper hand. A particularly vicious strike knocked the sword from Spike’s grip, sending it hurtling into another dragon, causing both to plummet earthward.

“You should have joined me, whelp,” Garble said, his voice dark and empty, seeming to echo with a hollow soul, “You were always weak, but I could have made you strong, given you the strength to protect that pathetic band you called a ‘family’. You betrayed your own kind! And for what? Weak mortals? These humans are nothing but fodder and toys, meant to be used by those stronger than them! Even their own know this.”

“True strength doesn’t come from thinkin' you’re better than anythin'. Even Geryon knows that. True strength comes from having somethin' to protect, from promises to loved ones, and I still have one I have to keep. I promised my wife I’d bring her your black heart for what you did, and that’s one I’m all too glad to uphold!” Spike yelled, as he roared dark flames onto a clawed hand, rushing forward to plunge it into Garble’s chest. As it sank in past his wrist, he said, “It’s over, you monster. Finally over.”

“It will.... never be over. I see it in your soul, you too carry the Mallacht Tine… The black flames are proof… enough.” Garble coughed, golden ichor soaking every word, spilling onto the landscape below them.

“What do you mean?” Spike glared. “The Cursed Flames are just a myth! Geryon and Emaline said so themselves! Black flames are flames of grief and vengeance, they said. Tell me what you know!”

“My time is done here. Take my heart for your brood.. Spike. Go... to the Anam Farraige... find your answers there. I will… be waiting.” With that, the red dragon’s body fell lifelessly into the gorge below, leaving behind his heart, golden and still, in Spike’s claws.

Spike stared at the heart for a minute, before gliding back to the airship wordlessly, the gathered dragons parting for him without a sound. Twilight watched as the flight began to disperse, journeying back to their homes, before going after him, watching as he and Pinkie disappeared below the deck. Luna waited for her, with more than a few questions.

“Twilight,” she began as Twi landed softly on the wooden floor, “Might I ask a few questions? I think it best to give Spike a moment alone, to finish up with the ghosts of his past. Perhaps you need a moment as well. Why not spend it here with me?”

“I- You-” Twilight sighed. “You’re right. I actually feel like talking, so I guess I can answer what you need answered.”

“What in the name of the Moon was going on with Pinkie? She leaves the room as an energetic, innocent youth, and comes back like a woman possessed.” Luna shuddered. “It leaves me with a feeling of dread and quite a few chills.”

“Few years back, something happened. I’m not sure what; Pinkie refuses to talk about it. Whatever it was, it just… broke her. There’s a reason we don’t call her by her full name, Pinkamena. After that day, the personality that came out called herself Pinkamena, and referred to Pinkie as, well, Pinkie. Whenever the stress of something or the silence gets too much, then Pinkamena takes over. She’s gotten better at controlling it than she used to be though, like when it first started, when even a loud noise could shut her down. Pinkie has naturally curly hair, but for some reason, Pinkamena doesn’t. It makes zero sense, but at least it’s a good tell.” Twilight seemed to chew on the information before she continued. “Just, when you see the hair fall, make sure you keep an eye on her. I’ve seen her crush full-grown ogres when Pinkamena comes to play, and she terrifies the crap out of me.”

“Why not give her a vessel to contain this errant persona? Or at the very least to suppress it? Such magic should be simple work for you, I would think.”

“Ha! Like that would work.”

Each woman jumped, then felt an arm around her shoulders. Pinkie—no, Pinkamena, judging by the hair—leaned in between them. “Sure, let the walking magical accident waiting to happen tinker with a broken mind. No way that could possibly go wrong, am I right, Lulu?”

Luna glared at her. “Do not call me Lulu.”

Pinkamena tilted her head as she considered the goddess. “Hey, if I stuck a hand grenade in your mouth and pulled the pin, what would happen?”

“What?”

“Like, you’re supposed to be immortal. But an explosion right under your brain, that’s gotta at least sting, right?”

Luna turned to Twilight. “I believe I see why you have been hesitant to aid her.”

“No kidding,” said Twilight.

“Aw, you guys are no fun.” Pinkamena released them and went back into the ship.

Twilight sighed, “Well, at least the airship’s still in one piece.”

The moment after the words left her lips, the ship rocked violently.

“You have GOT TO BE KIDDING ME!” Twilight glared at Luna “I blame you. ‘The Goddesses will protect you,’ my hind end…” she muttered, stalking off to find what the problem this time would be, leaving behind a very confused and frustrated looking Luna.

“I can’t even have ten minutes alone with that girl without some disaster appearing. If this is you Scoddri, I will castrate you.” Luna fumed, lithely jogging to catch up to the glimmering girl.

Elsewhere, King Scoddri, sneezed, and his meal turned into a bowl of flowers that he suspected were daisies. He blamed Luna.