62. Flight of the Firewing
Merys was weary. His battle with the goddess had taxed him beyond his limits, had nearly killed him. His burns pained him every time he moved, and his ruined eye still seared his senses constantly. When he had finished here, and taken the city’s riches for his hoard, he would head west for his homeland, where he would rest atop his hoard for a long century of healing.
But for now, the battle demanded his attention. The ponies could do nothing against him, now that their goddess had fallen. Whatever trickery they had used to defeat Viera would not work here. Flushed with his victory, Merys felt untouchable. His breath seared the ranks of the ponies below, his claws sweeping through their ranks like paper.
In the corner of his eye, he saw a flash of gold. He had not seen one of the golden pegasi since Trellow, where he had killed them by the score. With a low rumble of anticipation, he turned slowly to meet this tiny challenger. Some last hero of the ponies, perhaps, come to die in a vain effort to—
Merys smelled the air, and paused. The burning odor of ozone in the air instantly thrust him back through the millennia, to the day long ago when the greatest of dragons, Phileostryx, had fallen to a mortal on the Roof of the World. His eyes widened. The hammer, here? Impossible. It had been lost, eons ago.
It mattered not. The hammer was only a threat in the hooves of a great warrior, not some upstart pegasus in shiny armor. All he had to do was separate the pony from its weapon, and he would have nothing to fear. Even weakened as he was by his grievous wounds, he was strong enough for this.
But as he turned to meet the pegasus, he felt a chill in his bones.
* * *
The air rushed past Inger’s face as he rose, silently flowing past his filoplumes. He was hyperaware, feeling every slight variation in the wind, each feather trembling in the rush of flight. The sweat of battle was cool as it dried on his brow, his mane blown back across his forehead. His heart was strangely calm, but he heard each beat as though it resonated through his entire body. These might be his last moments, and his brain seemed to be memorizing them.
The dragon loomed above, all its scales glittering ruby-red and yellow. It was covered in wounds; the scars old and knotted, the burns fresh. Black streaks marred the scintillating scales, drawing lines across the dragon’s sides and head.
The hammer quivered in his mouth, growing warm as he drew nearer to the wyrm. A blue spark jumped from the hammer’s head with a snap. His nostrils flared, and he smelled the same odor of burning metal and ozone that were always present inside the fiercest storms. His armor tingled as tiny currents ran across his skin.
Above, the dragon noticed his approach, its good eye swiveling to focus on the tiny flash of red and gold. A smile curled on its giant face, and it rose in the air. Inger’s eyes narrowed. The hammer had begun to glow a soft blue, reflecting off his golden plates. He clenched his teeth, ensuring his grip on the weapon was firm.
The distance closed fast, and the dragon kept getting larger. Inger thought of his comrades, all surely killed in battle; his home, still in flames; his Princess, lost somewhere over the horizon; and a golden-maned mare, who waited for him somewhere below. He breathed deeply, and let them all go, his worries and thoughts falling away as he focused his entire being on the task before him.
He rose up at last to fly as high as the dragon, who had now turned to attack. Inger heard the wyrm inhale, and every muscle in his body tensed.
The first blast of flame erupted, heading straight for him. Inger rolled to the side, far enough away to dodge the blast. The fire blazed past him, the roaring noise drowning out all other sound. The gap between him and the dragon closed nigh instantly, and massive claws swung up to cleave him in two.
There was a thin slot of room between the dragon’s talons. Inger tucked his wings in and dived. He slipped through with bare inches to spare, emerging on the other side and flinging out his wings again. He used the momentum from the dive to swing beneath the dragon, coming up and finding himself right beside a long black streak of ash on the scales. He twisted his head, and brought the hammer against the dragon’s belly as hard as he could.
The hammer’s head exploded with light. Blue tendrils of lightning flashed out, arcing across the dragon’s skin. The scales directly beneath the hammer’s blow shattered like glass. A tremendous roar shook the air as the dragon bent at its middle, shying away from the pain and whirling to meet its assailant. Inger drew back to strike again.
The dragon rolled, and one of its vast, leathery wings swept up from beneath Inger and slammed into him. He went flying away from his target, spinning out of control.
The dragon’s head snapped up before him, and another stream of dragonfire scorched the air. Inger dove beneath it, narrowly evading the flames. One of the feathers on his wingtip had caught fire. He frantically flapped it to extinguish it.
He dodged another blast, feeling the heat throughout his body. The blue star on his chest was deforming in the superhot air, its points drooping. Sweat dripped from every pore on his body. His wings beat powerfully, and he closed the distance again. He came up underneath the dragon’s chin, and slammed the hammer up.
Lightning burst forth, traveling across the dragon’s scales in a dance of blue sparks. The smell of ozone seared his nostrils. The dragon’s head snapped down, its jaws open wide enough to bite an Aurelisk in half. Inger’s eyes went wide, and he flapped his wings as hard as he could, trying to evade the bite. The dragon’s teeth closed with a thunderous snap, narrowly missing him. He turned to fly away, only to feel a tug from behind him.
The dragon had snared his tail. Inger gave up escape as hopeless, and swung around to smash the hammer against the dragon’s jaws.
It had been waiting for exactly that, and its mouth sprung open. His hammer whistled through empty air, crackling with blue sparks. Inger felt a pull as air rushed around him into the dragon’s maw, and he flew desperately against the flow.
Fire flared out, rushing past the pegasus. The hammer shone like a star, and a shell of blue light wrapped around him, protecting him from the main blast. The light faded rapidly as the flames died, and the hammer felt suddenly cold in his mouth. He doubted it would save him again.
He whipped into a turn, coming back around to face the dragon. He raised the hammer, before he realized the dragon’s forehead was coming straight at him with near-terminal velocity.
The wyrm headbutted him like a stone wall. Inger went sailing back, stunned. He dropped from the sky, hearing the roar of air rushing past him.
Above, the dragon pulled its wings in as it went into a dive after him. Its jaws opened wide as it prepared a final attack.
Inger shook his head, blinking, as he regained his senses. He gripped the hammer tightly in his teeth. With a flare of his wings, he jerked right and brought his fall to a painfully abrupt halt.
The dragon soared past like a falling star. As the red scales passed, Inger swung the hammer. Lightning blasted out, and the dragon roared again.
He looked below as the dragon rolled over to face him. As the tail whipped past, it twitched, clipping Inger with the force of a boulder. He lost his grip on the hammer, and it went tumbling away. Inger was sent into an uncontrolled roll, struggling to orient himself. He came out of the spin just in time to see the blue glow of the hammer as it fell into the dragon’s waiting jaws.
The dragon’s mouth snapped closed around it. Inger watched with disbelief as the dragon’s long throat pulsed with a swallow. The dragon roared up at him, laughing.
Conventional weapons would do nothing against that scaly hide. The Kingshammer was the only chance he had to kill the wyrm. Without it, they were lost. Inger snarled. There was only one option.
He dived. The dragon came up eagerly, exhaling another blast of flame. Inger flung himself sideways, spiraling down around the cone of fire. It vanished as the dragon ran out of air. The wyrm’s mouth yawned wide beneath him.
Inger closed his eyes and turned his head. I’m sorry, Cranberry.
He flew into the dragon’s jaws, and they slammed shut around him. Everything went black.
The dragon’s tongue was hot and wet. The stench of sulfur was almost overwhelming. He gagged, feeling the hot blast of the creature’s breath wash over him. Suddenly, the tongue curled, and he felt himself rolling forwards.
He fell into the dragon’s throat, and felt fleshy walls press against him from all sides. The dragon swallowed.
Inger was pulled down, feeling the muscles contracting around him. He gasped for air, holding his breath and shutting his eyes tightly. There was a last, forceful ejection, and he splashed into a vast sea of unmentionable liquid.
His skin burned. He coiled up against the stinging, grateful he’d shut his eyes and mouth. He couldn’t hold his breath for long. With a twist of his body, he began flailing around, feeling with his hooves.
He saw a faint glow of blue through his eyelids, and paddled toward it. He swung his hoof toward the light, feeling a tingle snap through his leg as he knocked against the hammer’s haft. He threaded his hoof through the hammer’s loop, feeling the desperate urge to breathe.
Inger pulled the hammer close, opening his mouth. He tasted vile liquid, but clenched the hammer between his teeth again. He swam through the viscous fluid, searching for the walls of the dragon’s stomach.
The burning in his lungs had reached an excruciating level. Tears from the acrid smells and the acid on his skin edged his eyes. He bumped against something solid, and swung the hammer as hard as he could. It collided, and the explosion of lightning shot through the murky acid. It ran across his armor with a painful shock, and his teeth hurt.
Suddenly, he felt a pull. He was sucked back the way he’d come, squeezing back into the tiny passage of flesh. He dragged the hammer along the side, trailing sparks.
He emerged back into the daylight, riding on a tidal wave of emesis. He flung out his leg, catching one of the dragon’s teeth in the crook of his joint. He swung up above the vile flood, drenched in disgusting fluids. He dropped the hammer’s loop over his free hoof, gasping for air.
The dragon rumbled, still heaving. Inger swung his hoof up, and the hammer collided with the roof of the dragon’s mouth. Arcs of electricity burst like a nova, and the dragon moaned in agony. Inger’s wings flapped, and he was out again, flying over the dragon’s head.
He skidded over the dragon’s forehead plates, his wet hooves sliding across the scales. With a roar, he slammed the hammer down on the plates, shattering them. The dragon’s head shook, and Inger lurched to the side. With the hammer in his mouth, he flung both legs out to catch hold of the first spine on the dragon’s neck.
They were falling. The air rushed past the dragon’s head with a tremendous noise. Inger held on, waiting for impact.
The dragon crashed into the ground. Griffons and ponies dived out of the way as it ploughed forward through the dirt, sending up a wave of dust and earth. At last, it came to rest.
Inger collapsed onto the dragon’s head, his breathing calming at last. He pushed himself sideways, sliding right and off into empty air. His wings spread as he floated to the ground, landing gently in front of the dragon’s good eye.
The vast creature blinked slowly, the giant pupil focusing on him. The dragon’s jaws cracked open, and it groaned with a low, anguished sound. “Who… are you?”
Inger pulled his sticky mane out of his face, hefting the hammer. His eyes narrowed. “A Firewing.”
He swung the hammer home.
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I spent the entire chapter shivering.
I must sound like a broken record at this point, but this is just utterly fantastic.
2090295
Oh, this was a fun one. The idea for the second half of it came to me in a flash while I was brainstorming ways to make the fight longer. "Hey, what if he loses the hammer? Hey, what if Merys eats the hammer?"
That was pretty cool.
If were Shrikefeather and i found out Rye was Windstreaks son.. I'd totally use him as a hostage...I mean its a war right? And He is kind of helpless physically XD
Inger: Side effects may include indigestion.
This is the second time I've ever wanted to like something more than once.
well that was a short one allright... short but fun :D
2090304 The big bad beasties never learn do they? Unless you make sure to chew or are as indestructible on the inside as you are on the outside, never eat the hero. Doing so only invites the most painful of deaths. think the worst case of this was a giant Ashworm (think sperm whale sized sand worm) eating the hero. Who was the hero? The Horseman, War. Never mind the fact he just ate the living embodiment of bloody conflict, this dude was wearing a crap ton of armor and still had his six foot sword Chaoseater with when eaten. That thing was just asking to die.
What's really odd is that Inger and this ancient as hell weapon were able to bring down Merys so much more quickly than Celestia especially when she spent several hours duking it out with the beast. I mean Luna couldn't kill him, Celestia couldn't kill him, but random pegasus with an ancient hammer can? Why is the magic in this old ass hammer more potent than Celestia's magic?
2090905
It's more the fact that Merys already got the stuffing beaten out of him by Celestia; the hammer's just finishing him off. And it's not simple magic, remember, it's god-forged.
2090918 ......You might want to mention it being god-forged more often, because I only very dimly remember that ever being mentioned.
Still it seems odd the Inger is able to close so easily whereas Celestia apparently couldn't or was too stupid to do so which kinda undermines her efforts because here it doesn't even read like Merys is even tired, sluggish, or even feeling his wounds all that much.
That and the most damage Inger takes from this fight is from the stomach acid and less the actual fighting whereas Celestia got pummeled.
2091149
Well, it's fairly difficult for a dragon to deal non-lethal wounds to a pegasus in a direct fight. I can take a look and make it more apparent that Merys isn't exactly in top shape, though.
2091185 There is one thing that could be done to Inger that would make his efforts seem more heroic while making it simultaneously more challenging for him without the dragon landing direct blows. You hinted at it a bit, but if you looked into it more, it becomes a whole new beast.
it seems the only way to kill giant dragons these days is to be eaten by them......
Well then... Celly is now going to come back to a battlefield with only griffons left to stop her, in full god mode. That site is going to smell of fried chicken and burnt cat hair for 100 years.
No I may feel out of place here, but isn't Rye the hammer bearer? I feel like he should be smashing the dragon right now. The hammer can be used by whomever or...nevermind I'll get it later.
2091643 That sounds a lot like wishful thinking.
The first problem is that Rye can't fly. (That dragon can just roast him from the air, no flight = death) The second is that he barely knows anything about fighting. It was made clear Rye was entrusted to give the hammer to someone worthy of wielding it. Odd though that Inger was chosen. Part of me almost wished that there was more background for this reason, more than just Inger simply being humble.
If there's one thing DSNesmith did right when writing this fic, is that he didn't overly glorify any of his characters. It seems like each character contributed in their own way.
ahgad merys ate the hammer
ahgad merys ate the firewing
Merys, you silly dragon, you don't swallow both the weapon AND it's wielder. At least chew first. Just bad manners all around.
Well done, Inger. The whole 'let myself be eaten so I can deal the final blow' thing is a bit cliche, but I don't mind; it works well in this instance. It also pleases me in no small way that my plans for killing dragons are nothing like this – and I note that I actually thought of the 'let myself be swallowed' thing and cast it aside. Glad I did, now it won't look like I'm stealing your style or something.
So if the dragon's dead and the griffons are nothing compared to nordponies, what is there for Celestia to do when she makes her triumphant return? I know we still have Shrikefeather to contend with, but I seriously doubt they'll need her to handle him. I hope it's not a typical instance of the 'glorious leader' arriving to praise the heroes and promise a new age of peace after failing to do anything significant (unless you count weakening Merys enough to be killed by mere mortals, which I do).
Your worst nightmare motherbucker
!