Chapter 5: Lightning Strikes
Scootaloo hummed, or purred rather, as she kissed Dawn slowly, their lips lingering against one another. His wings and arms were completely wrapped around her, holding her close pressing their chests together. His hooves gently stroked their way down her sides as Scootaloo wriggled in an attempt to, impossibly, get closer, her own wings flexing against Dawn’s from within so that their feathers caught and pulled on one another. She realized she was probably going to need a thorough preening in the morning, but, at the moment, Scootaloo couldn’t care less.
Dipping her head, Scootaloo began to trail kisses up and down Dawn’s neck as he nuzzled into the top of her head, occasionally nibbling on one ear or the other, the light, tickling sensations making her giggle against Dawn’s fur, which caused him to chuckle in turn.
It had been so long since they’d had a chance to do this, to lie in bed and simply snuggle, cuddle, and kiss each other until they were content, which could be hours. She couldn’t thank Dawn enough for taking the time to do this. It was the perfect way to cap off her day after the exam. He was right. It’d been too long since they’d last had a proper date.
“I love you,” she said as she lifted her head again, this time looking into Dawn’s turquoise eyes. Whatever else ponies might have thought about him, Scootaloo still thought they were the coolest eyes she’d ever seen.
Dawn smiled back at her and leaned in so that they could press their foreheads together. “And I love you,” he whispered back.
Content for the moment, Scootaloo tucked her head under his chin and settled in with a sigh, letting the softness of the hotel bed embrace them both, though she hardly felt it, as she was currently preoccupied with the feeling of Dawn’s embrace rather than the bed’s. Instead, she turned her mind to the things that had happened that day, starting with the exam and ending with their altercation with a bunch of Cloudsdale street toughs.
In her mind’s eye, she pictured the haze of energy swirling around Dawn’s wing, electricity charging the air, merging with it until wind and lightning were one and the same. She was good, but not quite that good. She could condense plasma and handle the deadly orbs with ease, but she had yet to reach the same point Dawn had, that mysterious point at which the difference between distinct techniques of the Gale King broke down and all became one.
In contrast, Dawn’s magic was at another level altogether. He could merge the techniques of the Gale King together and command a shining wind that could obliterate anything, even substances that would normally be considered indestructible or beyond the interference of mundane forces. It was a skill he had continued to perfect until he could do it with ease, having spent the better part of a lifetime on it.
But that wasn’t what she was focused on. Instead, Scootaloo thought about the look of that haze of energy, of the light and the way it had captivated her. If it could captivate her, then what about an audience?
“What are you thinking about?” asked Dawn.
“Huh?”
“You’re thinking about something,” he said, smiling wryly at her. “You always rub your forehead against me whenever you’re thinking at a time like this.”
“Oh!” Scootaloo blushed. “I was thinking about lightning.”
“What about it?”
“I was thinking that…maybe that’s what we need to start with when planning our performance,” she explained.
“You want to do a lightning demonstration for the Best Young Fliers Competition?” asked Dawn, raising his eyebrows.
“Sort of,” said Scootaloo. “I mean, when it comes to the Gale King, that’s probably the most visible thing we can do. The audience wouldn’t be able to see enough of our basic wind manipulation, unless we did something like make a tornado, which might not go over well.”
“Probably not,” agreed Dawn. The Cloudeseum where the competition was held was big, to be sure, but not big enough that either of them would feel comfortable trying to create a visually impressive tornado without worrying about the risk to the audience.
“And, obviously, the vacuum blades are out,” continued Scootaloo.
“Obviously,” replied Dawn.
“So lightning is the way to go,” she concluded. “We just have to figure out how to…I don’t know…give it more…flare…I guess…”
“Flare?” asked Dawn.
“Well, lightning’s cool and all,” explained Scootaloo. “But I think we should aim to try and do something really impressive with it, something cool looking…I don’t know…”
“Hmmm….” mused Dawn, the sound resonating through his jawbone, which was resting on top of Scootaloo’s head, prompting a giggle rom her.
She thought about it too, trying to think about what their performance needed, thinking about all the things she could do with lightning. Sure, they were pretty awesome to look at. But, as a product of the Gale King, their primary purposes were attack and defense. They were more practical than impressive in her mind. Sure, pegasi who could control lightning the way that they could were almost completely unheard of, thanks to how difficult such a skill was to acquire. Maybe tossing around glowing balls of plasma and whipping around chains of lightning would be impressive enough, but Scootaloo wouldn’t be satisfied that easily.
“Why don’t you sleep on it,” suggested Dawn, kissing the top of her head and then nuzzling the spot where he kissed. “I’m sure you’ll think of something.”
Scootaloo nodded and began to close her eyes, ignoring the brief lurch in her chest when Dawn had said “you” instead of “we.”
The next morning saw the two of them rising bright and early, old habits triumphing over the relaxed nature of their situation. Satisfied with a night well spent, they checked out of the hotel and made the flight back to Ponyville. Dawn banked off to head to his home, where he would, no doubt, be greeted by a distraught Larksong, desperate to know where her big brother had gone. Scootaloo, meanwhile, went back to her cloud house and tell Rainbow Dash and Soarin’ about her experience taking the exam.
They met again for lunch before heading out to the quarry. Though they went through their usual forms and a quick sparring session, Scootaloo cut the training a little short so that they could focus on developing a proper routine for the competition. With her, Scootaloo carried a list of the regulations and rules, provided by Rainbow.
“So we can perform with the floor open or closed,” she explained, reading off the list. “We can request special arrangements of the clouds for our performance. Only basic building clouds are allowed…no specials.” She paused, looking up from the list. “I guess they’re a bit expensive to waste on an amateur competition.” She looked back down at the list again. “Routines have a minimum requirement of three minutes and a maximum of six. If the performance endangers the audience in any fashion, it will be halted and the competitor disqualified. Competitors will be numbered according to order of arrival.”
“Griffons and other naturally-winged creatures are allowed to participate,” observed Dawn, reading over her shoulder, “but not unicorns or earth ponies using magically conjured wings. Did Spitfire make that rule?”
“Yep,” said Scootaloo. “That’s what Rainbow said. Right now, the only spell that can stick wings on a non-pegasus conjures them out of gossamer and morning dew. Apparently Spitfire doesn’t want to get whacked upside the head again. Rainbow says she’ll reconsider if somepony makes a spell that’s more reliable under duress.”
“Sensible, I suppose,” noted Dawn. “Anything else worth noting?”
“Nothing that Rainbow hasn’t already said,” remarked Scootaloo, folding up the list and depositing it into her saddlebag.
“So…how do you want to start?” asked Dawn, canting his head as he looked at her.
“Um…from the beginning…I guess…” Scootaloo frowned and settled onto her haunches. “We’ll start from the opening and plan out the moves we want to use then…figure out where to go from there.”
“All right,” said Dawn. “Let’s begin then.”
Scootaloo nodded and pondered what they should do, occasionally bouncing her ideas off of Dawn. It was of limited help. Dawn deferred to her as to whether a particular display was suitably dazzling, whether they should start out small and simple and then work their way up to grander demonstrations, or how ponies might react to what they say. He was only truly useful when it came to technical matters, what they could manage with the skills they had, which Scootaloo already had a good idea of. Still, even just using him as a sounding board while she brainstormed verbally helped her get her thoughts in order. It was all perfectly well to imagine putting on a grand display full of awesome moves. But it was a whole other thing to actually plan out those moves, work out the timing for them, and, ultimately, put together a functional routine.
For Scootaloo, it painfully illuminated just how little she understood about putting on an air show and how much work it must have been for the Wonderbolts to plan all the ones they performed. And she only had two ponies to work things out for. She couldn't begin to imagine how Spitfire managed the same thing for more than twenty.
Before she knew it, the sun was dipping and it was getting dark. She had gotten so absorbed in their planning that she'd failed to notice the passage of time. They were both late, Dawn for dinner with the rest of his family and Scootaloo for her usual time to return home. She didn't exactly have an obligation to go back at an early hour, but she did want to spend some time with Rainbow and Soarin', if only to plumb them for additional advice for her planned routine.
"Sounds like you've got a doozy of a performance, squirt," said Rainbow with a chuckle and a grin.
"I guess," said Scootaloo uncertainly. "But it's hard to take something that you see in your head and bring it out and actually make ponies do it."
"You've grasped the understanding that a lot of flight planners have to come to in order to do their jobs properly," said Soarin' with a chuckle. "You have no idea how many competitors at that competition show up, expecting to throw an assortment of random tricks together and assume that will wow us. Careful planning takes a lot of work. We keep our air shows fairly routine for a reason. Doing tricks and formations that we're familiar with helps streamline the planning process and we just bridge the gaps and figure out how to link it all together. Coming up with something genuinely new requires a lot of planning and plenty of trial and error in rehearsals to figure out the timing. Sometimes we've needed to simply start over from scratch."
"Ugh," groaned Scootaloo, rubbing her head.
Chuckling, Rainbow leaned over and gently prodded Soarin' in the ribs. "Come on, you goof, quit teasing her and start giving her some pointers already."
Soarin' sighed and shook his head. "Fine," he said. "I can't really give you any advice on what tricks to do. You have to work that out for yourself. But I can walk you through the basics of planning out a routine." He raised an eyebrow at her. "You do realize that some ponies spend years in dedicated schools learning how to do this stuff, right?"
"Yeah," said Scootaloo. "But Rainbow Dash never went to a school for flight planning and she came up with her own routine."
"Yeah," said Soarin', now smirking at his fiancee. "And I remember how well that went."
Rainbow blushed, glared, then socked Soarin' in the shoulder. "I was tense and nervous. Shut up."
He laughed and turned back to Scootaloo. A few minutes later, they had a large sheet of paper laid out on the table, upon which they drew a rough circle, representing the area encompassed by Cloudsdale's Cloudeseum as viewed from the top down.
"So I just draw it out?" she asked, looking down at the image, "But how can I show where we need to go up and down?"
"Congratulations," said Soarin'. "You've just grasped the first conundrum of flight planning. We're talking about planning a three-dimensional activity using a two-dimensional surface."
"Oh shut up," quipped Rainbow, punching his shoulder again. "You cheat."
"Hey, we make sure we know how to do it with pen and paper," protested Soarin'.
"Quit being dramatic about it and give the kid her advice, Soarin'," said Rainbow flatly, her eyes narrowing in a half-glare that showed she wouldn't take any further arguments.
Soarin' sighed dramatically. "Fine..." Twitching his head off to one side, he muttered under his breath. "Killjoy." If the next punch to his shoulder was any indication, Rainbow had heard him clearly enough.
"What do you mean he cheats?" asked Scootaloo, looking at Rainbow.
Rainbow smirked at the younger mare. "The Wonderbolts who plan the flight routines have a whole room dedicated to it at Headquarters. They actually sculpt the venue out of clouds and then use more clouds to draw the flight routine in three dimensions.
"But, like I said, we know how to do it on paper," said Soarinn' again, "We're always adjusting and modifying the routine when we're on the road. No two venues are alike. In any case, this is how it works..."
He walked Scootaloo through her routine, guiding her pencil as she drew it out on paper. He showed her how to mark ascent and descent by drawing arrows along the inscribed flight path. The shape of the arrows dictated whether the marked path was ascending or descending. A chevron meant up, while a shaded in triangle meant down. How close the arrows were to one another indicated the steepness of the angle of climb or descent.
"Wow, it's like making a topographical map," said Scootaloo, remembering her lessons from a few years back. For all that they were geography lessons, which were, by definition, obligated to be boring, that particular lesson had actually been kind of fun. They had worked in groups to fill small, glass aquariums with rocks of varying shapes and sizes, which were then covered with plaster to create a sort of artificial terrain of hills and valleys. They'd then filled the tank up in increments with water and drawn the outline of where the plaster met the water to create their own miniature maps. While Soarin's lesson might not have included any plaster or water, it was interesting to Scootaloo in much the same way.
"It's pretty close," said Soarin', nodding in agreement. "Of course, things get a little bit more tricky. After all, we're not drawing landforms. Your flight path can veer back over old territory, overlap itself from a different altitude, and any number of other complications. For longer routines, you could probably draw until you'd pretty much scribbled everything in and we'd have to break it down by timeframes to make sense of what's going on."
"But you're only planning out a six minute routine at most," said Rainbow. "You don't have to worry about that."
"Yeah," said Scootaloo, a faintly relieved tone in her voice. Just working out six minutes or so of a routine was going to be hard enough. She would probably plan it out to be shorter, just to have a margin of error should some tricks run longer than she thought. They also had a couple of months to practice the routine and put it through its paces.
"Don't get too worked up about it, squirt," said Rainbow. "They aren't expecting a professional-level job. What's important is that you and Dawn do something the two of you are cool with."
"Okay," said Scootaloo, looking down at the paper.
"Oh, so that's what you're working on," said Fluttershy after listening to Dawn's explanation for his late arrival.
Dawn nodded. Right now, he cradled a sleeping Pepita in his arms, gently rocking the colt back and forth. He was seated in a chair situated next to the couch where Fluttershy and Caramel were relaxing in the living room. After dinner, Larksong had been put to bed for the night and the rest of the family settled into the living room to chat.
"Sounds like Scootaloo's really gung-ho about this," observed Caramel.
"She's quite enthusiastic," agreed Dawn. "She's been looking forward to performing at the competition."
"And you're not?" asked Fluttershy.
Dawn looked down at his sleeping brother and frowned. "Not really...I've never been all that interested in putting on a performance."
Caramel and Fluttershy shared a frown of their own as they glanced at one another. It was understandable that Dawn was a little crowd-shy. In his younger years, the majority of his experience with crowds generally involved the kind that came with torches and pitchforks as obligatory accessories. Such traumas did not fade easily. However, that didn't seem to be the source for the lack of enthusiasm he was expressing. More than anything else, it simply seemed to stem from a simple lack of interest.
"If you're not interested, then why are you helping Scootaloo?" asked Caramel.
"Ever since Rainbow Dash suggested it, she seems to have taken to the idea of this tandem performance," said Dawn. "I didn't really see any reason to object.”
"So you're just going along with it?" asked Fluttershy worriedly.
"I...guess..." Dawn shrugged, careful not to jostle Pepita with the gesture.
"Dawn, if you're not really up for this, you should let Scootaloo know," said Caramel. "If you really don't want to perform at the competition, you shouldn't have to just because she expects it of you. I know she won't hold it against you."
"But..." began Dawn, trying to find an appropriate reason to protest.
"It's about more than standing up for yourself," said Fluttershy. "We all know that Scootaloo is too good a pony and cares about you too much to simply accept you just going along with what she wants to do. If this keeps up, she's only going to feel guilty for pulling you along and she'll lose her enthusiasm. But this means so much more to her."
Pursing his lips, Dawn asked, "So what should I do?"
"The way I see it," said Caramel. "You have two obvious choices. Either you tell Scootaloo that you aren't really interested in participating and let her do a solo performance...or you at least try to take an interest in this and act as an actual partner for her."
Fluttershy nodded. "I think Scootaloo likes the idea of a tandem performance so much because she wants to create something special with you. She wants it to be a shared experience where the two of you can create something amazing together."
"So either let her know you're not up for it or genuinely try to engage with her on this," said Caramel, getting off the couch. He walked over to where Dawn was sitting and rested a hoof on his son's shoulder. "There's more to being a good coltfriend than simply being passive and doing what your fillyfriend tells you to do. You have to take some initiative and assert yourself, one way or another. It's pretty much inevitable that you and Scootaloo won't share all the same interests or want to do the same things in life. That's the way it is for all couples. But you need to show respect for the things she loves and try to at least meet her halfway."
Fluttershy nodded in silent agreement to her husband.
Once again, Dawn looked down, staring at Pepita as he gently rocked the colt some more. "I guess you're right," he said. "I just wish I knew where to begin."
"Maybe think about the things you love," suggested Fluttershy. "Find a way to make them a part of what Scootaloo is doing."
"That's a start, I suppose," admitted Dawn.
A few hours later, Dawn lay in bed, reclining on his back and staring up at the ceiling, thinking about what his parents had suggested. He wondered how exactly to put a part of himself into their performance.
The things I love... he mused silently. Dawn was rarely concerned about his lack of cutie mark. We was very much content with the way things were. Sometimes he noticed a certain nagging emptiness, the ennui that came with a lack of definitive direction in his life. Certainly, working at the teashop was fulfilling and enjoyable...But was it really what he wanted to spend his life doing? Was it a true source of passion for him?
Not that brewing and serving tea would have any application to an airshow...unless it was to fly out and serve tea to the judges and participants. But that was outright silly.
Dawn decided to take stock of the things that were important to him. There were his friends and family, Scootaloo, the teashop...and the Gale King. That last item was obviously the one that was being worked into the air show. That had been what Scootaloo had wanted to do anyway. Dawn hadn't really thought of turning the Art towards performance, however...
He remembered what he'd learned from his own Master and the things he'd taught Scootaloo. Martial arts and dance shared a close relationship, with concepts shared between one another: the application of rhythm, controlling the space between participants, synching with and reading another's motions to act appropriately. There were numerous connections. What mattered was that dancing was a performance and something that connected integrally with the martial arts. He'd seen that connection frequently in the way that Scootaloo practiced her forms, the fluid grace with which she went from one movement to another, and the way she could mold the air so smoothly. He was always captivated whenever he had the opportunity to simply sit back and watch her go through her forms...
Forms... he thought. Suddenly, his eyes shot wide open. Forms! That's it! I understand now!
Dawn's excitement was such that it actually took a considerable effort to calm himself down enough to go to sleep, eagerly awaiting the chance to share his idea with Scootaloo when he saw her tomorrow.
Scootaloo looked over the rudimentary flight plan that Soarin' had helped her put together and sighed. Even though it was the product of at least a couple of hours' hard work, it didn't feel quite right to her. She knew that, when she showed it to Dawn, he wouldn't hesitate to follow it and they could practice hard to make sure it worked out. But it left her feeling slightly empty. Without Dawn's input on it, it felt like she was just dragging him along behind her.
Maybe I shouldn't have pressured him into doing a tandem performance with me, she thought. With another sigh, she folded up the plan and slipped it into her saddlebag. Now that she was waiting for the results from the certification exam, her apprenticeship with the Weather Team was officially over. Technically, while Scootaloo could continue to work with them, she wouldn't be able to actually draw full wages until her license came through and she was hired officially. Raindrops had advised her that, until that time came, she should probably take advantage of the lull to continue planning her performance for the competition, saying that there would be an open spot on the Weather Team when she was ready.
It made Scootaloo glad that her mentors and soon-to-be coworkers were supporting her. But, unfortunately, it was proving to be a bit unhelpful. It was going to be a tandem performance after all. She couldn't adequately practice with only one half of her team present.
She was drawn out of her reverie by the quiet thud of hooves against the cloud behind her. Whirling about, her eyes went wide and her jaw dropped when she saw Dawn standing there, waiting patiently. "Dawn! What are you doing here?"
"I came to help," he said, smiling.
"But what about the teashop?"
"I asked Arkenstone for the day off. He granted it. He also said he wouldn't mind if my attendance was a little...sparse...for the next couple of months."
Scootaloo blinked. Given that Arkenstone essentially ran the teahouse as a hobby, she wasn't exactly surprised by his lackadaisical approach towards his only employee. However, the last thing she'd expected from Dawn was for him to essentially ditch work to help her work on a flight performance, especially when he seemed so disinterested in it earlier.
Her surprise and confusion were compounded when Dawn leaned in and kissed her on the lips, lingering for a moment before pulling away. "I'm sorry," he said softly. "I know that this is important to you, but I haven't done much to help you."
"No," said Scootaloo, hugging him around the neck. "I'm the one who should be saying sorry. I dragged you into this without really making sure it was okay with you, just because Rainbow suggested it. I should have thought more about what you want."
"I want to help you," said Dawn, pulling out of her arms only so that he could kiss her again. "And I think I know how."
"How?" asked Scootaloo.
"Follow me," he said, spreading his wings and leaping off the cloud, gliding down to the quarry below. Scootaloo did as he suggested and fell in behind him, landing silently and waiting to hear what he had to say.
"Let's go through the First Form," said Dawn abruptly, making Scootaloo freeze.
Why does he want to start a regular training session all of a sudden?
Nonetheless, trusting that he had a reason for this, she did as she was bid, assuming the starting position, standing calmly, her wings half-spread, her eyes closed, her breathing even. Beside her, she could feel Dawn assuming the same position through her wind-sense. For a moment, the two of them stood there silently. Scootaloo wondered what Dawn was waiting for, but then realized that he apparently wanted her to be the one to start them off.
She went into motion. As she did so, she felt Dawn move in perfect unison with her. They went through the sequence of motions, moving together, even breathing together, performing each strike in perfect synch. Scootaloo realized that Dawn was following her, but, at the same time, he was moving in concert with her, letting her lead, but not simply following along passively. The two of them moved as one, dancing together through the motions of the familiar form. When they came to a rest, Scootaloo opened her eyes and looked at Dawn.
"That was..." She took a moment to breathe. "...wow." She knew that this had been what Rainbow had been getting at when the older mare had been pushing for the two of them to do a tandem performance. This was their skill, their ace in the hole that would allow them to get high marks for their ability to perform together. But, at the same time, Scootaloo knew this already. While it was nice to get confirmation, it didn't exactly explain what Dawn was getting at.
"So...what are you suggesting?" asked Scootaloo, waiting to hear Dawn's answer.
Dawn smiled more widely than Scootaloo had seen ever since they'd started planning for this...or rather...ever since she'd started planning for this and had been tugging him along. "I was thinking that, if we can move together like that for a form, then perhaps that is what we should do for the performance."
"A form?" asked Scootaloo, canting her head, "You want us to do a form? Don't get me wrong. The First Form is cool and all, so are the others. But just doing one of our forms doesn't feel..."
"Actually, I was thinking we should create a form of our own," explained Dawn, his words making Scootaloo's jaw snap shut. "Rather than think of it as an air show or flight performance, we should think of it as an extended form. What is more, the forms we know already are all for single ponies. We can do them together, but the fact remains that we are two ponies who happen to be doing the same thing in synch."
Scootaloo began to realize what Dawn was getting at. "You want to create a form for us to perform," she said, "a form for two ponies in concert with one another. That's what you're saying?"
Dawn nodded.
She said nothing for a moment. Instead, she reached back into her saddlebag and pull out the flight plan that she'd come up with the previous night, looking at the hours of hard work wasted. The sound of paper tearing echoed surprisingly loudly through the empty quarry as Scootaloo tore the paper into scraps, the action making Dawn gape at her as she scattered the pieces into the air around her and threw herself at him, tackling him into a tight hug.
"I love it!" she exclaimed. "It's amazing!"
"B-but your flight plan..." protested Dawn, even as he returned her embrace.
"You said it yourself, what we need isn't a flight plan," said Scootaloo, grinning eagerly as she met his eyes. "We're gonna come up with a form and show off what we can do." Leaning her head in, she rested her face against his chest. "You are the most awesome coltfriend ever."
Those words made Dawn smile as he extended his wings and wrapped them around her. "And I'm still yours."
"Yep," said Scootaloo, glad that her position below Dawn's head kept him from seeing the happy tears leaking out of her eyes. "Still mine."
Spike twisted lazily through a roll as his flight carried him over the orchards of Sweet Apple Acres, relishing in the warmth of the sun as it caressed his scales. Ponies had sometimes wondered how a dragon, who could bathe in molten lava without a care in the world, could even notice something as comparatively gentle as the sun's heat. Spike always chuckled when they asked him that.
Dragons felt all the differences in temperature that ponies did. But to dragons, it wasn't quite in the same way. To them, differences in temperature registered more like textures. Lava's heat didn't burn him and it didn't actually feel hot. Rather it felt like being immersed in...a heavy...liquid...blanket...was probably the best description that Spike could use for the sensation. The sun's light and heat felt more like being stroked by a continuous wave of soft silk. A dip in the cold water of a lake was like running his entire body through smooth, light oil. He actually liked that last sensation quite a bit, given that it left him feeling like his scales were being polished. That was the best way he could put it, as it was difficult to describe how he felt different temperatures in words.
The rows of trees gave way to a clearing. In that clearing was erected a simple farmhouse with a vegetable garden out behind it. Nearby was a large, classic red barn. Both of these Spike had come to know quite well, especially since he'd started dating Apple Bloom. However, they weren't his intended destination today. Instead, he zeroed in on another building, this one a much more recent addition to the area. It was a broad, low building of a single story, laid out just a short distance away from the farmhouse. Spike stooped in for a landing, transitioning easily from flying into a steady trot as his feet touched the ground.
The new building was made of lighter-colored wood than the barn or the farmhouse. Three of its four walls consisted of sliding wood screens that could be pulled back to open up the interior. Right now, they were all slid shut. Walking up to them, Spike hooked his fingers around the edge of one of the sliding panels and pulled, careful not to gouge the wood with his claws.
The inside of the building was just as austere as its outside. It consisted of a single large room. The floors were wood, polished and lacquered to a shine, feeling slick and smooth beneath Spike's feet, his claws tapping lightly as he stepped inside.
Looking over, he saw the east wall, which was the only wall not composed of sliding screens. In the wall was set a small, rectangular alcove. Hanging from the back of the alcove was a paper scroll with an ink painting depicting rolling hills and flowing streams that ran down the length of the scroll, which itself hung nearly to the bottom of the alcove. At the base of the alcove, just below the scroll, was a tray holding a small arrangement of flowers. This was nothing like the bouquets of colorful blossoms that the Flower Trio sold at their market stall. Like the room itself, it was austere, using very few flowers and showcasing the stems and leaves as much as the blossoms themselves.
On the wall to either side of the alcove were spears, hanging from racks so that they stretched horizontally along the wall's length. The spears near the bottom were practice weapons, shafts of waxwood, the end of which was fixed with a small, padded ball where the blade would normally be. However, the top weapon in each rack was real, with a blade of gleaming steel extending from the end of the shaft. Each live weapon was different in design. Some had differently shaped blades, others had shafts carved from different types of wood. Some were longer, others shorter. Nearly all of them were made by the stallion sitting in front of the alcove.
The stallion was a deep, royal-blue color, which contrasted nicely with the crimson of his mane and tail. At the sound of Spike's approach, he stirred and looked over his shoulder at the dragon, watching him with a pair of unremarkable blue eyes. A purple iris resided on his flanks. His body was lined with powerful muscles, compact and flexible, the same kind of build that Spike had seen on Dawn or Arkenstone.
"Hello Spike," said Red River cheerfully, getting to his hooves and turning around to face Spike fully. "You're a bit early. Our next session isn't until tomorrow."
"I know," said Spike with an apologetic smile. "But I wanted to ask your help on something."
Seeing Spike's sober look, Red's smile faltered. "Perhaps you should tell me what's going on," he said softly.
The two of them sat down and Spike began to explain the situation.
Red River had been one of a pair of mercenaries, who had been hired to help protect the town after Dawn arrived. Back then, Dawn had been hounded by a group of ponies known at the Cult Solar, who saw Dawn's eyes as a sign of demonic possession and had attempted to kill him every time they had seen him. Worried that his presence might draw those ponies to Ponyville and that Ponyville's own residents might be pulled into the conflict, Twilight had asked Princess Celestia and her brother, then Captain of the Royal Guard, Shining Armor, for assistance. Shining had turned to his friend, Arkenstone, who recommended Red River and Storm Front, the current Assistant Manager of the Weather Team, for the job. The two ponies had come to Ponyville and taken up residence there. The lives they built for themselves were so appealing that they ended up giving up their mercenary careers to settle down with the homes they'd made and the ponies they'd bonded with.
Red River had initially started working for the Apple Family as cover for his mercenary work, running the market stall for Sweet Apple Acres down in Ponyville. His particular passion was flower arrangement, a meditative practice that he used to inform his spear techniques. He also used it when running the stall, arranging items to draw the customers' eyes and incite their interest. As Red continued to work for the Apples, he'd begun a relationship with Applejack, which had prompted him to give up his wandering days. The two of them ended up marrying just last year.
With Applejack and Big Macintosh's blessing, Red River had constructed the training hall that he and Spike were currently sitting in. Red's skill with a spear had enticed several young ponies from Ponyville and he gave regular classes, which allowed him to further supplement Sweet Apple Acres' income.
In point of fact, Spike had become one of his students. Though Spike didn't see himself running around the country with a spear, working as a mercenary, he found the training to be good exercise and helpful for developing his focus and coming to an understanding with his innate magic as a dragon.
Dragons, like ponies, were powerfully magical creatures, though their magic manifested differently from a pony's. Dragons' magic was found within their flame, which could be used to achieve a variety of effects. It worked both internally and externally, empowering Spike's body and wings, allowing him to fly, but also able to project his will out into the world in the form of his breathing fire. For the longest time, the only "spell" of sorts that he was capable of was the magic that allowed him to burn scrolls of paper, sending them to ponies that he knew. For unicorns, there was a spell that allowed them to send letters back, which then emerged out from his flame. However, through diligent study and careful experimentation, with help from Twilight, Arkenstone, and Red River, Spike had been expanding his magic's repertoire over the years.
Spike hoped that this training would help him with his current problem, which he had just finished describing to Red. "So I'm a little worried. Sugar Maple and his cronies are mostly loudmouth drunkards. But I don't want to get caught flatfooted if their liquid courage gives them enough gumption to try and jump me some night."
"And you're certain that they're threatening you?" asked Red.
"Pretty sure," said Spike with a nod. "Whispering 'watch yourself lizard' is something I consider to be a threatening remark."
"It's definitely not a promise of specific action, but threatening all the same," agreed Red. "So what do you seek from me then?"
"Well..." said Spike, looking down slightly, "Ponyville's a little too small for me to be able to avoid them all the time. I figure the only time I really need to be careful is during the evenings, when it's dark and there aren't many witnesses and those three have probably been out drinking for a while. That's not too bad, but, at the same time, I do go out during those hours and sometimes I'm out with Apple Bloom and the others. While I hope they don't try anything stupid with me, I want to be ready, just in case."
"That's a reasonable explanation," said Red. "That being the case, I suspect what you require then is to develop your awareness and defense."
"Right," said Spike. Given the kind of ponies Maple and his friends were, he wouldn't be surprised if one of them came up with the bright idea of trying to clock him in the back of the head with something hard as the prelude to their intended attack. That was the sort of tactic jerks like them frequently resorted to. Spike would be darned if he fell for it.
Red walked along the wall, stopping at one of the racks of spears. Turning his back to it, he kicked backwards with one hoof, which made all the spears on the rack jolt. The one at the very top actually bounced off of the hooks it had been resting on and fell right into Red's outstretched pastern. Looking at it, Spike gulped. It was one of the real spears, not the padded practice weapons. It was decorated with a long, slender blade at the very end, a narrow blood channel running down both sides. A red tassel hung from the point where the blade joined the shaft. Furthermore, the wood of the shaft was darker, denser. Spike knew it well because he'd helped track down the wood for that particular spear. It was lignum vitae, a dense, heavy wood, sometimes referred to as ironwood. Its heft made the weapon formidable enough, even without the razor-edged steel on the end.
Dragon scales were strong. Some ponies speculated that dragon scales might be even stronger than steel or, possibly, even mithril. Nopony was keen to test that hypothesis though, seeing as that would involve taking a weapon to the hide of a dragon, which was rather ill advised, given the likelihood that the dragon would probably not want to go along with the experiment and object...violently. However, Spike was not a full-grown dragon. Thanks to the innate draconic magic that altered his shape and size to better suit his environment, Spike probably wouldn't get any larger than he already had. But, by dragon terms, he was still in his early adolescence, still younger than even the teenage dragons he'd encountered during his joining of the dragon migration had been back then. He wouldn't be an adult for centuries yet. Thus, Spike's scales, while certainly a good bit stronger than a pony's skin, were not exactly the impenetrable barrier they'd be a few-hundred years from now. A blunt weapon swung hard enough or a sharp blade with enough power behind it could get through.
Fortunately for Spike, he'd learned some interesting things that his magic was capable of. The fire that he breathed out flowed through the inside of his body as well. The heat it generated granted him buoyancy that allowed him to take to the skies. He found that he could also channel his fire through his limbs, infusing it into his scales, hardening them, increasing their durability; not just his scales, but the membrane of his wings as well. When channeled out through his claws, they became capable of slicing through solid steel like it was butter. However, the focus required for such applications made it a work in progress for Spike.
"You know the basics of what you need to do to defend yourself," said Red, whipping the spear through a couple of swift spins. The weapon made a harsh whirring noise as it spun, its impressive weight managing to be conveyed even through the sounds it made. "What you need is the practice and the experience required to defend yourself when circumstances demand and when you don't necessarily have time to prepare yourself." He leveled the spear at Spike, his focus sufficiently intense that it was tangible to the dragon, who was still a couple meters out of the weapon's reach.
"So how do we do this?" asked Spike, licking his lips nervously.
"It's relatively simple," said Red. "Think of it as a sparring session. I attack. You defend. If your defense falters or you allow me to catch you off-guard, you will receive a reminder."
Once again, Spike swallowed hard. The blows dealt by the shaft of lignum vitae were no laughing matter and he didn't want to think of what Red might do with the blade of the spear. All the same, he knew he could trust Applejack's husband not to actually injure him...he hoped.
"Let's step outside and begin," instructed Red.
Spike nodded. It was typical for Red to train him outside on the dirt where the dragon could sink his claws into the ground for extra traction. Red never discouraged the practice, seeing as a fighter should take advantage of every asset he had and Spike's claws seemed well-suited to the purpose, not being threatened with damage by it at all. However, Red did want spare himself the repairs he would have to make to his floors after each session. Thus, they trained outside.
On the ground outside the training hall, Red hefted the spear and leveled it at Spike again. "Ready?"
"As I'll ever be," said Spike with another nervous gulp.
"Then defend yourself." Red lunged forward, his spear thrusting for Spike's chest.