Chapter 60 - The Price of Hubris
Handy went down and did not get back up.
The blow was little more than a black claw striking out from the shadows of the cave ceiling. Blindsiding him and knocking his unprotected head against the wall, he fell over in a slump, the hammer falling to the ground and vanishing beneath the spectral mist. Spike stood alone, the too-large eyes of the dragon staring down at him. It was only then that Spike noticed the eyes were too big for the cave itself, that despite its speech, he felt no rush of air that indicated breath.
Spike reached down and picked up a rock from beneath the mist, tossing it with all of his strength. The grey stone went spinning through the air, right between the eyes. The silence hung for a moment or two before the rock bounced on the ground further down the cave. The dragon chuckled.
“What's wrong, little drake? Lost your fire?”
“What do you want with us!?” Spike demanded impotently, the other two down for the count.
”With you? Nothing. Not much use in a baby dragon that can’t breathe fire.”
“I am not a baby!” Spike said defensively as anger swelled within him, but it felt like little more than a spark in a frozen cave. There was no heart in it. “Not anymore.”
“I don’t see any wings on your back, child, so you know as well as I do that that’s not true, however tall you’ve grown,” the voice chided. ”But because I can probably use you as leverage, I might as well bring you along as well.”
The mist then rose up and wrapped around him, growing thicker and drier. Spike struggled, waving the mist away with his claws until it solidified to the point that he had to actually tear at them. However, he found his movement quickly restricted, the mist binding close to him like a body of vines constricting him and blinding him as it covered his face and closed over his snout. Everything seemed to stop for the longest time; no sound, no feeling, neither hot nor cold—he couldn’t even breathe but found he had no need to. This did nothing to ease his growing panic.
Time stretched on, seemingly endlessly, but it could not have been longer than half an hour until Spike found he could breathe again.
“HYYUUURRRRK!” Spike’s desperate lungs greedily breathed in the stolid air of the cavern, but as soon as his eyes opened, he had to screw them shut again to prevent them from being blinded. The cave was full of light, though for the life of him, Spike could only locate one light source. A flawlessly cut, clearly transparent crystal of immense size was suspended in a ring of worked gold and studded with emeralds that shone with an internal light. Its light shone up and around the cavern as it rotated on its axis, reflecting off immense shards of mirrored glass sticking up out of the mounds of treasure around him.
The shards were curved and were clearly a part of a greater whole once upon a time, and they sparkled as the light touched them and rebounded off to light up the rest of the cavern. Piles of gold were stacked carefully in boxes and chests rather than haphazardly strewn as Spike had seen other dragons do with their hordes. Precious gems and stones, on the other hand, were treated with less care, placed in neat piles, some as tall as him. Spike could not tell which were for eating and which were for keeping. Other treasures covered the floor and walls as far as he could see: bars of worked silver ingots on pallets of wrought iron, stamped with the seals of long dead kingdoms. Suits of armour for ponies, griffons, dragons, diamond dogs, and as many races as Spike could name were mounted on stands everywhere. None of them looked very modern, but all of them had the tell-tale traces of gold, silver, or other decorations indicating worth and merit. Just as many had rents or tears where their previous owners met their end.
Portraits of individuals he didn’t recognise, painted in styles he could not name, presented in places and occasions he did not know, lined the walls wherever there was not space occupied by tapestries. The recognizable glow and thrum of powerful magical artefacts radiated about the room, but Spike could not spot any out in the open. What he did see was plenty of weapons; everything from bronze daggers to spears made out of a strange blue-green metal that looked like aged copper but were clearly something much more durable and potent. Amulets and jewellery lay in boxes separate from the gold coins, and had he time, he would have happily delved further to explore the treasures this room offered.
However, that would require ignoring the dragon in the room. Meranax lay across what could only be described as a chaise longue. Carved out of the rock itself, the edges were gilded with real gold and the ‘lining’ of the immense longue seemed to have been made out of actual rubies, fused together into a single solid surface along all the curves and edges. Meranax herself was an immense dragon of darkly shining green scales. Eyes of piercing gold stared down at him, the sclera shot through with green tinged veins. Her wings were draped along her side rather than being neatly folded at her back, with the foreclaws linked at her collarbone, making a cloak of her own wings. She wasn’t the biggest dragon Spike had ever seen in the Dragonlands, but after looking around at her horde, she was probably the richest.
Spike found himself seated on his backside, facing her, the mist dissipating around him. The others were no longer in sight, causing his heart to lurch in his chest.
“Welcome,” Meranax rumbled, her voice possessing an odd melodic quality now that it was not coming through the filter of magical projection. However, she was still a dragon, and her voice shook the air nonetheless.
“W-Where are my friends!?” Spike demanded.
“Back in Ponyville where you left them, I would imagine.”
“I meant Handy and Whirlwind!”
“Oh, they aren’t your friends,” Meranax said. “I thought that much would have been obvious.”
Spike wanted to retort but bit it back. It’d only come across as childish given the circumstances. He took in a breath, looking down. How did things get this bad?
“What is it you want with me? Really?” Spike asked. Meranax smiled, her already intimidating appearance accentuated by the magical light shining upon her face.
“Leverage, like I said,” Meranax explained, raising up her enclosed claw to admire something in her grasp. Spike saw the antlers of Whirlwind sticking up through her enclosed claws.
“Whirlwind!” Spike shouted in horror.
“Oh be quiet, you,” Meranax said almost casually, not looking at the distraught dragon. “He’ll be fine, for now.”
She admired the Crown of Winter upon the antlers for a moment, taking care not to disturb the still slumbering deer.
“What brings you to these lands, little dragon? I thought you were no longer in our Dragonlord’s good graces?”
“You… know who I am?” Spike asked tentatively, eyeing the treasures around him, unable to help himself. Meranax noticed but only smiled.
“Of course I do, little Spike. I am the oldest dragon in our bloodline. What manner of elder would I be if I did not keep track of our little ones farther afield?”
“Uh, elder?” he asked.
“I sometimes forget how much has been lost over the centuries.” Meranax sighed. “Yes, Spike, your elder. You would do well to remember your place. Now keep your wandering eyes to yourself.”
Spike immediately snapped his gaze back to Meranax, having been staring at a particularly amazing pile of gems for an uncouth amount of time.
“Now, as for this one…” Meranax placed Whirlwind back down, laying him gently on a pile of heavy rugs and rolls of samite and other expensive fabrics laid out upon the rubies. However, she kept her claw pressed down on him, just in case. In her other claw, she held the unconscious form of Handy. He had stopped bleeding, but the sides of his head were still caked in blood from where he had been struck. “This is a real treasure. Do you even know what he is, really?”
“... A human?” Spike answered, not sure what she was expecting. Meranax closed her eyes and breathed in through her nostrils. The rush of air was almost physically noticeable.
“Yes, Spike, a human. Not particularly special in himself but in what he represents. But I do not suppose you could know why that matters. None of you could who were not there for it, not anymore,” Meranax said. “You should ask your princesses. It would be so much fun watching from afar how they’ll fret.”
“Ask… Ask them what?”
“Ask them why they haven’t told him about his predecessor,” she replied. Spike just looked confused.
“What predecessor?” Spike asked, but Meranax didn’t reply. Spike pressed anyway, hoping to keep the conversation going long enough until he could spot a way out of here, but every nook and cranny seemed to be full of treasure. How did she even get out of here, herself? “What predecessor!?”
“That is for them to worry over. For now, he is my treasure to keep. Who knows when I’ll come across another of his like? I will not even give him over to my mistress.” Meranax chuckled, a deep, unnerving rumble felt more than heard. “Oh, she would be so incredibly angry if she ever found out. The deer, too, would make a good trophy, but he I can sacrifice, like I did his forebear.”
“You… That was you?” Spike asked, now moving closer to what looked to be a particularly old but well-made bronze spear, resting in a casket with other weapons. “He said something about the guy before him being… uh…”
“Oh do grow up, child. Not everyone’s adventures end as happily as yours. Really, I should have seen something like that coming…” Spike paused as he shuffled, spotting something on the top-most digit on Meranax’s claw holding the human. Her green scales made it difficult to spot, but now that he saw it in the glow of the crystal light, it was obvious. Shot through several of the scales, some as large as his head, was the same sickly green and yellow web he had seen on other dragons, and on Ember.
“It was you…” Spike mumbled. Meranax’s eyes focused on him. “You were the one who really stole the sceptre. You’re the one who did this to the dragons!”
Meranax smiled, an ominous sight on any dragon but particularly dreadful on her with the way the light played across her features. For a brief moment, it didn’t quite meet her eyes, but the moment passed.
“I will not deny anything I have done,” she said, turning to gaze off into a long forgotten distance. “Just another wrong I have done my people, among many others.”
“Why!?” Spike demanded, furious despite himself, forgetting the absurd power disparity between him and the target of his anger.
“Oh, you know, the usual: covetousness, greed, avarice. I am an old dragon after all,” she said almost glibly. Spike did not accept the obvious deflection.
“No. What did you do? What did you do with the sceptre? What did you do to my friends!?” he demanded. Then Meranax frowned, her face darkening despite the light as she glowered down at him.
“I do not care for your tone, boy,” she said icily, the words reverberating with power. Spike wavered momentarily before steeling himself and meeting her gaze. She waited for a few moments before speaking again.
“If you must know, little one, then you should understand that once I tell you that, you’ll be useless to me as leverage,” she explained, eyes narrowing. “My Mistress may just consider a breathless dragon enough of a curiosity to accept it as a gift.”
That gave Spike some pause. He understood next to nothing about who or what this Mistress was, only what little he found out from Twilight, who was told by Celestia. He only knew she was bad news, and the human was tied up with her in some way. Now he knew that whoever she was, she had a full-fledged ancient dragon on her payroll, and that was all sorts of bad news for everypony. He swallowed and steadied himself. He had to know, whatever the expense to himself. Standing his ground, he looked her in the eyes and did not blink.
Meranax smiled.
“Very well,” she said, lifting a wing to settle it behind her. “I was attempting to escape this mortal coil.”
Spike blinked. “What?”
“Immortality, child.”
“I get that but… is that it?” he asked, genuinely confused. “I mean, you’re already a dragon.”
“Dragons are not timeless, boy.” She snorted. “We age and die as sure as the younger races do. Or have you not found it odd you have not seen an elderly dragon? Not even once? Where do you suspect Ember’s father went when she took the sceptre?”
“I… I just thought he went to the North.” Meranax chuckled, the gold in the chest next to Spike rattling as the coins shifted.
“Yes, that he did. Do you know why?”
“That’s just what dragons do when they are old enough, isn’t it?” he asked, now suddenly unsure of himself. He had asked Ember that question once before, and that was all the answer she gave him, not knowing more herself.
“They go to the North to die, Spike.” Meranax sighed. ”At the pole of the world, there is a graveyard, mountains of your ancestors’ bones, yours and mine and that of every other bloodline. Only a dragon’s burning furnace of a heart can stand the impossible chill of those immortal lands.”
“But… nopony ever said anything about that,” he protested. Meranax snorted in contempt.
“Wash your mouth, boy, you sound altogether too much like the ponies you put up with. Still, it doesn’t matter. What did you think dragons do when they go North? Sleep? Dance? Sit around and wait? That they would go there and collect a trophy and return, but get lost on the way?”
“I just… I guess I didn’t really think about it that much,” he admitted.
“None of you young ones do anymore, and I am glad for it. Of all the trappings of our past I removed one by one, that myth I miss the least.” She snorted.
“What myth?”
“I am not going to tell you, lest it live again. Just know there is a reason I am the eldest. Despite my age, there is a reason why some of our number fear to go North and instead turn to the lost arts of necromancy, anything to escape death. Its grip should not touch those as noble as our blood.”
“Necromancy? Now that’s a myth!” Spike said, at once feeling as if he was on more familiar ground and trying desperately to buy himself some time to process what Meranax was telling him. He spied the shifted head of Handy in the larger dragon’s grip. It seemed as though he was finally coming to. “Ponies have been trying to study that for thousands of years. It’s nonsense.”
At this, Meranax did not smile nor allow her expression to change. “It wasn’t always nonsense, child,” she said seriously. “Magic can do wonders. It can animate even corpses with energy, but it is like a marionette on strings, no true aberration of life. You could sculpt a golem from the remains of the dead and give it motion, either through enchantment, infusion, or some darker means, but it is still merely golemancy. The flesh does not animate despite its death. In that sense, you are correct. Necromancy does not exist if it is merely another form of magic playing around with the corpses of the dead. If that were all it took, a simple unicorn working as an embalmer or an ash warden could become a necromancer.
“But you weren’t alive then. You don’t know what I know. You do not know what Celestia and the other princesses know. You do not know the true horrors and abomination of gods and magic that sorcery can be. They killed all knowledge of that magic, and I cannot say I blame them, so that only they would know of it. Well, they and two others,” she said, lifting the stirring Handy and smiling maliciously. “And this human killed at least one of them.”
“W-What?” Spike asked. Meranax ignored him, waiting for the human to awaken, probably so she would see what reaction he would have to being in her very claws. She spoke without looking.
“Oh yes, his reputation of dragon slayer is well deserved. He killed Arenakis the Bright, scoundrel that he was. Right where he had hid himself in the city of those damned guise shifters all those centuries ago. I had not seen him since I flew with the Justicars.” Her expression changed to one of contemplation. “He also killed one of my descendants, but that is no matter. The fool was asking for it.”
Spike let her talk as he shifted through the weapons in the piles beside him as quickly and as quietly as he could. There was nothing particularly noteworthy, nothing he could use that would so much as make Meranax blink at him in indignation. But perhaps it didn’t have to do too much. He kept her talking.
“So, if I take your word for it, and I don’t by the way, I’m guessing you aren’t extending your life with necromancy?” he asked. She snorted with genuine mirth.
“If I had used necromancy, believe me, little drake, you would be able to tell. It is not something you can merely hide.” Meranax closed her eyes in thought. “No, I chose a more regrettable means. An older, more terrible magic that has no business being in this world.”
She opened her eyes again.
“And I, in my desperation, thought the sceptre could save me from my own foolish oaths,” she said, and just as she turned her head to speak again, a flash of silver rushed up to her. A dragon of her strength would normally have reacted near instantly, but she had been so used to being safe for so long, the surprise alone caught her off guard. The spear flew and missed her face by a mile, but it did strike the crook of her claw, crashing against the poisoned scales and knocking one loose. Meranax hissed in pain and snarled, the sound rocking the treasure room.
“YOU DARE!?” she demanded, eyes glowing and fire growing in her throat. “You dare attack me, whelp? Do you know what armies were sundered under my flame!? Do you know what kingdoms were plundered to fill this room!? Of course you don’t! You have no idea who I even am! Had I known it would have wiped me from the memory of the world, I would have chosen death, but I can never have that back! I am Meranax of the Bloody Crest! I have vanquished a thousand thousands, and you dare defy me with a toothpick!?”
Spike, for his part, was legging it, putting himself between as many of the piles of treasure and the towering, infuriated dragon as he could. Meranax leaned up, one wing spread, blocking out an entire half of the cavern from the light of the crystal, the other caught between the back of her carved lounger and herself. She snarled, eyes darting from one giant mound of mirrored glass to another, watching Spike move to his exact hiding position. There was nowhere he could run to in her horde that she could not see.
It was then, through dazed eyes, one caked shut with dried blood from where he had split the skin of his crown, that Handy was able to take in where he was. There was treasure everywhere: weapons, gold, gems, fine armours, tapestries, and art and statuary as far as the eye could see. Fine spices and incense and other pleasing smells rose up from over a hundred different points of the cavern, enough to rouse anyone from the deepest sleep. Or it would have been pleasant and awakening if it wasn’t for the absolutely rancid smell that assaulted his nostrils and threatened to choke him. Looking down, he saw he was being restrained, though his insensate body and swimming head barely registered it, the pressure was noticeable when he became aware of it. He was in a claw, a gigantic dragon’s claw. That was bad, but it was taking his shaken brain some time to process exactly why.
“I see you, little drake!” the dragon above him boomed.
‘Oh right, that's why,’ he thought to himself almost sleepily, as he pieced together the events bit by bit. He tried moving, but the more he moved, the more parts of him began to hurt. Looking down, he saw part of the scales of the claw had been chipped away, revealing a sickly expanse of flesh right below him. The waxy corruption was sickening, and he felt the bile rise up in his throat the more he contemplated it. Considering his situation, he hardly had a choice. The vampire within him was none too pleased. He could feel the blood pumping not far from his face, but he genuinely did not want one bite of it for once. Well, he could think of no better way of telling that part of himself to fuck off. He opened his mouth and took a deep breath.
“You cannot hide from me in my own home! I will—” Her words were cut off as she roared in pain, the grip of her right claw loosening automatically as the flesh spasmed in unfamiliar agony, blood spurting from the new wound. Handy had not considered the part where he fell and landed onto a body of rubies, but hindsight was a bitch. He slammed into the stones hard enough to scatter dozens of them out of where they were lodged into the rock itself. It hurt. A lot. In fact, he was sure it may well have killed him had he not taken that drop of blood. As his heartbeat slowed down and his insides began to feel as though he was freezing from the inside out, he began to wonder if that might not have been better.
His teeth chattered, his hands shook, and for the life of him, he could not figure out why his clothes felt warm to the touch, or why thin wisps of smoke were coming off of them. He spotted Whirlwind not far away, pinned to the ground by the dragon’s other claw. He wanted to move, but every movement pained him as if he were stretching out his muscles for the first time. On top of that, he did not know where his hammer was.
The backswing of her free claw dissuaded him from entertaining those thoughts further as he was swung bodily against the raised ‘arm’ of her lounge. He sent more gems scattering before the dragon pinned him there, careful not to place her scaleless portion near his face. She placed her face down close to his, looking sideways so that she could focus on him intently with the whole of one eye.
“I see you’re awake. How nice,” she snarled. He simply focused on trying to get his breath under his control and to not die of sudden onset hypothermia and shock. Why was it suddenly so absolutely freezing? “Well, my surprise was only mostly ruined. Hello there, human.”
Handy had one arm free, which he used to wipe the gunk from his face. It felt like he had bitten into a mixture of raw beef, wax, and melted cheese. Meranax allowed him that much; it was not like he could do mu—
He licked up the gunk from the back of his hand, mixed it with his saliva and spat it all wholesale into Meranax’s unprotected eye. She recoiled, swinging her head back and forth, eyes closed reflexively but unwilling to let the human go from where she had him pinned, so she lifted her other hand to wipe at her eye. Whirlwind, now free… proceeded to do nothing, because the lazy bastard was still asleep even in spite of all the dragon’s roaring.
Spike, meanwhile, had not been nearly as idle, having taken advantage of the distraction Handy had pulled and ran a circuitous route around the treasure and up the rocky face of the dragon’s rest. He sprinted as fast as he could, coughing all the while, desperate to get to the deer. He reached Whirlwind just as Meranax raised her claw from his form, and Spike dived onto him.
“Wakeupwakeupwakeup, plllleeeeeaaaasssseee wake up!” Spike pleaded, shaking him again and again. The stag did not move, snoring all the while. It took Spike a moment to realise the snoring was exaggerated. “Wait a minute…”
“ZZZZZZZzzzzzzzz…” Whirlwind snored, his left ear swivelling around subtly towards Spike as he talked. Spike looked at him incredulously and shook his claws at him.
“I can tell you’re faking!” he hissed, trying desperately not to raise his voice despite his panic. “This is no time—!”
“ZZZZZZShhhhhhhhhhhh…” Whirlwind whispered, flicking his ear. Spike noticed the deer had one eye open, looking up at the reeling, screaming dragon. “ZZZZZZZwwwwaaaaiiiit…”
Spike looked up. Handy’s head was now lolling to the side, his free hand grabbing his head. There was an awful lot of smoke coming from where he was pinned against the rubies. Meranax held her claw gingerly away from her now sensitive eye, and just as she faced Handy once again, Whirlwind jumped to his hooves, horns aglow with magical energy, and galloped to where Handy was pinned. His horns left a reddish afterglow in their wake as he sped away from Spike. Before Meranax could react, he crashed his antlers into the tough hide of the dragon’s claw, tearing a number of the weakened scales off and cutting into the softer flesh beneath, destroying one of the antlers wholesale in the process. Meranax roared in anger, Handy fell to the ground, and Whirlwind rushed to pick him up.
“Come on, don’t just lie there we got to—ARGH!” Whirlwind jumped away from Handy, the fur scorched from where he had touched his bare hands. Taking the briefest of seconds to look, he now saw Handy seemed to be almost literally burning up, and that the smoke was coming from the cloak and clothes he wore.
“C-Col… Cold…” Handy breathed, teeth chattering. “... S-So cold.”
The hesitation cost them both, however, as one of Meranax’s claws swept them from her perch altogether, gouging rubies out of the rock formation and sending them scattering through the air like shrapnel as both bodies were flung out onto the treasure horde. Spike looked on in horror as he saw the two of them sent flying and disappearing over the mounds of treasure. Then, at last, Meranax looked down to see him below her, and Spike felt his memory flash back to that time when a younger, more foolish version of himself had sought out the company of an elder dragon who could not have cared less for his presence, much less guiding him.
“Congratulations, little drake,” Meranax spat, almost cursing, raising up a claw to crush Spike where he stood. “Looks like you won’t have to suffer my Mistress’ tender mercies after all.”
Spike sprinted faster than he had ever done in his life. Meranax’s claw crushed the rubies where he had just been standing and shook the ground under him, sending him off balance and falling over the edge. He slammed into the ground violently and tumbled off towards the piles of treasure, toppling crates and sending carefully organised stacks of gold, gems, and other valuables scattering across the cavern floor. Meranax just about sprung to all fours, towering in the cavern but careful not to raise to her full height, daring not to spread her wings fully lest she disrupt the carefully arranged furnishes, hissing at the disruption Spike had made.
Which gave the little dragon an idea.
Spike pulled himself out of the pile of treasure, picked up a very large and beautiful diamond and displayed it to her. Meranax stared down at him impassively. He promptly tossed it in his mouth and crushed it between his jaws. Meranax’s stoic visage broke as she bellowed her despair at him. He could tell he had cost her quite a bit. That rock tasted like it was naturally formed and was probably worth a hefty fortune. It would add significantly to a horde’s value, not the sort of rock any dragon would just eat.
He then booked it. Meranax climbed down off where she was perched and followed after him, as he suspected she carefully wove her way around and over the mounds of treasure, taking special care not to disturb them. That also meant she wasn’t going to be using her fire breath any time soon, lest she cause nearly all the gold in the nearby vicinity to melt. Unfortunately, she was huge, so she didn’t need to be so destructive in order to catch him, and Spike soon found himself desperately ducking and weaving under her swiping claws.
Now thoroughly lost and having no idea where the other two had landed after Meranax had swiped them away, he did the only thing he could do. He swiped up another piece of treasure, this time some antique spherical object made of aventurine and silver that looked like it was part of some sort of set, and tossed it high and far. The sphere hit its target, a precariously stacked crate full of silver bars that toppled off of its pile, bringing the entire stack down and causing Meranax to give out another shout of horror and distracting her enough that she all but jumped over to the treasure pile to minimise the damage. Spike heard the tell-tale sound of breaking glass—evidently there were some fragile things over there.
Spike took full advantage of his momentary reprieve, taking refuge in a cramped alcove provided by a faded silver throne inlaid with mother-of-pearl and lined with red velvet. The metal was faded and the velvet had long since lost its allure, but it came with an attendant canopy as it was apparently built into a kind of palanquin that had not been lifted by anypony in probably over a thousand years. He stopped to catch his breath. Meranax eventually re-emerged from where she had been busy tending to her treasures and began stalking the cavern, the rumble of her chest reverberating as she stalked. Spike held his breath and remained very still where he crouched behind the throne as she stepped over where he was hidden. Once her shadow had passed over the mounds of treasure across from him, their multifaceted brilliance reflecting the crystal light in odd ways and distorting her shade, he dared to look out. He noticed, upon gazing up and around the canopy, that Meranax’s eyes were darting from one of the gigantic mirrored shards perched high in the larger treasure mounds around the room to another, clearly looking for him. Eventually, he realised, she was going to find him. He had to find the others.
Taking a breath, he considered his options. Looking left, then right, there was no obvious path through the treasure he could take, and he had no clear destination. He was just going to have to pick a path and hope it worked out. But first…
He picked up another piece of treasure, this time a kind of bronze sceptre… or a mace, he realised, and weighed it in his claws. It would have to do. He carefully considered his trajectory and how far he could throw it, grateful for once for the lanky arms he now had thanks to his admittedly slow growth over the years. He considered the mirrors and how likely it was that Meranax would fall for a ploy as ancient as this one was.
He figured she wouldn’t, so he tried something else. When he had her back turned to the mirror facing his treasure mound, he stepped out from under the canopy, lifted the sceptre, and held it behind him and tossed for all he was worth up into the air. The sceptre spun through the air end over end and landed somewhere over the next pile of treasure… and Spike followed right after it.
Meranax, predictably, did not turn to the second clatter of treasure. This time, she simply growled in its direction before turning right around and stalking in the opposite direction, suspecting a ploy. All the while, Spike ran for his life, racked with anxiety and fear that at any moment Meranax would only need to glance to her side and see him in a mirror running parallel and in the opposite direction of where she was going.
Fortune favoured him, however, and he managed to get to the next treasure mound and promptly started lifting and stacking several of the crates as fast and as quietly as he could until he had a little fort built out of the heavy boxes. The effort was strenuous, but he managed it and took cover before Meranax looked his way again. Spike took a moment to catch his breath. Meranax wasn’t shouting anymore, which worried him, but she was also not gloating and trashing the place, which meant she hadn’t found the guys yet either, which was also good.
“You won’t find your way out of here you know,” Meranax rumbled ominously. Spike sighed—so much for her being quiet. “If you give up, I’ll only have you encased in magma. It’ll be uncomfortable, yes, but you’ll survive.”
Spike ignored her, instead looking desperately for any way out. His eyes were drawn up, as they were so often as he ran for his life down here, to the mirrors rising from the mounds of treasure like the teeth of some forgotten cyclopean monster. He also noticed the long tapestries that hung beside them, most of them faded to the point where making out what they depicted was difficult to do. Each of them were hung from wrought iron frames that in turn were hung down from the cavern roof above them. If he could only get up there, they might have a chance. Then he saw it: there was a winding path through the treasure that led up a pile of chests and stacks of gems layered in such a way that they formed a kind of stairs leading up to one of the larger mirrors, large enough that, if he was careful, he could make his way up them unseen by any of the other mirrors.
It was a risk—one wrong step and he’d send an avalanche of gems to the ground, but he’d have to take it. When he was sure Meranax was looking another way, he booked it, sprinting towards the chests and diving for the first one when he heard Meranax move. For a moment, his heart stopped—she had to have seen him in one of the mirrors. He even saw her looking right at him when he glanced back after he dove too soon for the chests and scrambled to get behind the first one.
He waited, heart pumping, but Meranax… just didn’t move over to where he was. She continued to growl and stalk around the treasure horde. Spike, deciding not to question his good fortune, began clamouring up the pile of treasure slowly.
--=--
He poked his head out from around the base of the mirror. Meranax was obsessively checking the various treasure mounds, and from his vantage point above the cavern floor, he now realised just how truly vast the cavern was. Meranax may have opted for quality over quantity, but the treasure mounds went around and beyond the stone plinth she had lain upon, which was the centre of the cavern. He knew Handy and Whirlwind had to be on his side of the cavern—she had launched them into the air facing away from the ruby mount—but Spike couldn’t see them anywhere below him.
He turned and looked up. He had thought about climbing up the nearest tapestry, for it was tantalisingly close, but the movement would tip off Meranax, no matter how carefully he climbed. Still, it did provide good cover if he climbed up the back of the cavern wall. The tapestry’s shadow covered him from all the mirrors, but a single loose rock could reveal where he was in an instant. He looked back down but immediately ducked behind the mirror again as Meranax stalked near the mound he was standing on. The chests beneath him remained sturdy and unmoving, and the shard of mirror seemed to have its base buried somewhere deep in the mountain of treasure which would explain why it could support his weight without shifting when he leaned against it. It rose up almost as tall as the tapestry above him. Briefly, he wondered what massive structure it had been a part of, once upon a time, before its shattered pieces were gathered as part of a treasure horde, but nothing came to mind that would equate to ‘gigantic valuable mirror’. He did, however, see a way out, but it was nearly half of the cavern’s distance from where he now stood. Getting there would be a feat in and of itself.
He steadied himself, turning to face the rock wall and plan his route in advance. If he could get to the top where the tapestries hung, he could probably get unto the wrought-iron framework that stretched across the roof of the cavern, which held up the shining crystal that illuminated everything. He didn’t know where he was going to go from there, but it was a start. He would get a better view of the entire cavern and be further away from where Meranax was. She’d never think to look up there!
He took a breath, waited for the right moment, and then jumped off the gigantic pile of crates and chests, clinging to the wall of the cavern having run from behind the mirror to behind the tapestry. He almost slipped and fell off, but he bit his tongue before he blurted out in surprise. He gripped his handholds tightly and, waiting to ensure that the greater dragon hadn’t heard him, he slowly, carefully, began climbing the rock face.
The good thing about being a dragon was that he had absolutely nothing to fear when it came to finding a grip on a sheer rock face of a cliff. His claws could bury themselves just enough into the rock if necessary, giving him an extra edge in terms of grip and leverage. He had plenty of experience digging gems out of solid stone to attest to his confidence. At a certain point, his claws were just more useful than any pick, and faster than Rarity’s finely honed but otherwise weak magical potential. The job usually got done faster when he just started digging them out of the walls where she found them.
He kept climbing slowly, methodically choosing each new handhold he could either use or cut into to support his weight. He reached out his claw and—the rock came loose, a brief moment of weightlessness causing his stomach to jump into his throat as he stared at the wet rock tumbling down from where he had placed his claw and falling away beneath him. He barely held onto his other handhold as he helplessly watched the chunks of rock plummet earthward, clattering on the boxes of treasure down below.
He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth as he waited for the noise to stop. When he opened his eyes an eternity later, the tapestry hadn’t moved. He breathed a sigh of relief, hoping against hope that maybe Meranax hadn’t heard that. Then he realised he suddenly couldn’t hear her moving around beyond the tapestry anymore. He looked to his right and saw the terrible eye of the massive dragon staring at him from the gap between the tapestry and the wall.
”I see you!” she crowed triumphantly, dragging out each syllable. Spike shouted in surprise and hurriedly climbed the cavern wall, but Meranax began reaching her claws forth to try to scrape him off. He began to move out of the way of them but found his mobility was greatly limited. There was only a matter of time before Meranax began pulling away at the tapestry until she managed to snag him.
The tapestry! He hunched against the wall and, pushing himself off it, jumped and reached out for the tapestry, claws outstretched.
“NO!” she bellowed, but it was already too late. Spike’s claws ripped into the thick woven fabric… and began cutting through the faded, worn, priceless treasure far more easily than he had hoped. He actually fell some distance, dragging huge rents into the tapestry from behind as he went. He hurriedly dug into the tapestry to arrest his descent and began climbing again, hoping that Meranax’s reluctance to simply lift up the tapestry would preclude her destroying it in order to get to him. Worse, she could simply beat it back against the cavern wall and crush him against it.
Meranax, it seemed, was pragmatic enough to see the lesser of two evils and grabbed the bottom of the tapestry gently in her claws—or as gently as a dragon as large as a warship could—and lifted it up. Spike now found himself desperately hanging from the tapestry as it lifted and bended as she raised the edge. More of the tapestry ripped and tore as his weight dangled from it, his legs kicking in the air under him. His flimsy body jerked as the length of tapestry his weight was tearing out of it increasingly dipped, and Meranax roared in anger. The back of her claw slapped against him with the force of a wrecking ball, and Spike found his world spinning for the briefest of moments until he slammed bodily into the unyielding wood and metal of a chest of gold. The wood splintered and broke under him as the gold spilled out, but Meranax was too busy despairing over her now-ruined tapestry to notice the dent he had made.
He extricated himself gingerly at first as, dragon or not, that had hurt. He shortly began making his way down the hill of treasure, hopping from the top of one chest to another, scattering piles of diamonds and upsetting armour stands as he went. The noise eventually drew Meranax away from her mourning, and she stormed over to the rough location of where the noise came from. Spike sprinted for his life.
He bounded down to the ground and began diving in and out from behind piles of treasure without heed or care of whether he was spotted in any mirrors. If he moved fast enough, she might not be able to pin one exact location where he was for very long.
He took one turn, and then another, until he reached a small winding path between two very tightly packed treasure mounds. Suddenly, a blinding light appeared right before his eyes. Spike cried out in fright, grabbed the nearest weapon to hand, and raised it to strike, perhaps uselessly, at whatever fresh whiff of Tartarus this was.
“Stop!” a familiar voice cried out, and Spike just about arrested his swing before the end of his weapon had cracked open the deer’s skull. He blinked in surprise.
“Whirlwind?” he asked stupidly.
“Not so loud!” Whirlwind hissed as Spike panted, an inch away from braining Whirlwind with some weird weapon that looked like a kind of shovel with an iron ball on the opposite end of the glittering, gilded haft. He almost squeaked out in fear before Whirlwind’s hoof plugged his mouth shut as Meranax’s face suddenly appeared to swallow up the sky above them. Meranax peered right down at them with her good eye.
Spike’s pupils shrank, staring right up at the terrible dragon in utter fear. Meranax stared unblinkingly right where they were, the eye unmoving in its socket, and then… nothing. Meranax drew her eye back and forth across the little alleyway of treasure they were standing in the middle of, apparently not seeing them, and then moved on, her scaly body passing over them like a storm cloud. Whirlwind removed his hoof from Spike, and he gulped in air.
“What are you doing here?” Spike demanded, voice hushed. Whirlwind stood, face contorted with effort. His remaining antler was ablaze with magical energy that funnelled into a dome of magic around the two of them. His broken antler sparked dangerously whilst a silvery chain glittering with what appeared to be clear diamonds hung from it and glowed with the same energy as his undamaged antler.
“Keeping… us… alive!” Whirlwind managed. It was then Spike noticed the shivering human beneath him. Handy was wrapping his cloak around himself, teeth chattering as he desperately tried to warm himself.
“What’s wrong with him?” Spike asked, extending his claw.
“Wait, don’t—!” Whirlwind warned, but it was too late. Spike reached down and placed the back of his claw against Handy’s forehead, holding it there for several seconds. He looked at it curiously and raised an eyebrow at Handy. “Oh, right, dragon scales are fireproof.”
“He’s burning up badly.”
Whirlwind snorted. “Understatement. He scalded me when I tried to lift him up.”
“Why is he shivering then?” Spike asked. “It's like he has a fever.”
“Your guess is as good as mine,” Whirlwind grunted, his knees almost buckling under the effort. Spike looked at the magic dome around him, frowning.
“I don’t recognise this spell…” He turned back to Whirlwind.
“It’s a deer spell. We’re not really invisible—I’m projecting an image of what’s around us. Anything that blundered through it would walk right into us like you almost did.” The effort of the spell robbing him of his usually chipper attitude. The obsidian chains at his feet were broken now, and whatever property they had to suppress the use of his magic had apparently broke with it. Strange, it looked like they had been melted on their ends.
“Heh, Twilight would love to hear all about it.” Spike allowed himself to sit on the ground, his gaze darting between Whirlwind, the apparently sick and injured Handy, and the lumbering Meranax who stalked around her horde of treasure. “We need to think of a way out of here.”
“Oh, by all means, please do.” Whirlwind smiled tightly through the seemingly painful effort. “But until Handy’s moving again, I can’t go anywhere.”
“You guys must be close friends.” Whirlwind’s lips curved at that.
“I’m not about to leave him here helpless, in any case.” He glanced up at a jagged mirror with one eye, spying Meranax as she stalked over to the far side of the cavern. “Especially not now that I know who was really behind waking my predecessor.”
“Not gonna lie, I don’t really understand why you’re here, or everything she was talking about.”
“Don’t worry about it; just know that she’s both our problems. I have found what I am looking for; my oath is fulfilled, at least partially. Now, what are we going to do about her?”
“I… don’t think we can fight her. Her magic brought us down here, wherever here is.” Spike looked around before he frowned. “Magic… she can use magic.”
“Yeah, I noticed,” Whirlwind said dryly through gritted teeth as he struggled with the effort of the spell and his aching head. He leaned his head to the side with the shattered antler so that he was facing Spike lopsidedly.
“No, I mean… she did it without any kind of focus. I don’t see her using one.”
“Maybe it’s dragon magic? I don’t know how you people work,” Whirlwind said innocently. Spike looked at him out of the side of his eyes for a moment before shaking his head.
“It isn’t, and… Handy seemed to recognise it. He seemed really worried about it.”
“You can try asking him, but he wasn’t answering me,” Whirlwind replied.
“That’s not it either. I mean, if she’s trained in the use of magic, why isn’t she using it to find us? Why hasn’t it occurred to her that one of us is using magic to hide from her and focus on trying to determine where and what kind of magic is being used in the cavern?”
“Beats me. I’m only a journeydeer by most standards. Apart from what powers the crown grants me, I only use what's useful to me.” Spike tapped his claws on the ground in thought.
Handy then began to push himself upright. Whirlwind quickly stepped aside, wary about touching him.
“Hey uh, Handy, you okay there?” he asked the human, whose teeth had eased their chattering rhythm. He simply nodded back.
“Y-Yeah…” he managed after some effort. “I… I think I’m going to be fine.” He looked down at himself, seeing singe marks all over his clothes. “What… happened to me? Last thing I remember was waking up in… in… Oh.” That was when Handy noticed the mountains of precious metal and gems and artefacts and treasures surrounding them. He was struck dumb for several seconds.
“Right, well, before I do anything.” He reached over, opened a box, dug out a handful of ancient gold coins, and placed them in his pocket. “Never underestimate the value of a gold coin that hasn’t been debased with lesser metals. Can you tell if this is real?”
“Uhhh…” Spike peered at a small handful of sapphires in the human’s hand. “They’re not grown if that’s what you mean.”
“Excellent.” He pocketed those as well. Then he swung his hands out and clapped them together decisively, causing the other two to wince at the sound. “So! How are you two?!”
Whirlwind just looked at Handy. “… Are you feeling alright?” he asked slowly.
“Now that you ask, yeah, I am. A lot actually. In fact, never better. Why do you ask?” Handy replied. Whirlwind looked down at his leg.
“Well, for one, you are standing with most of your weight on what should be a broken leg, and you aren’t screaming.”
“Ah that, don’t worry about it. I do that sometimes,” Handy said blithely. Whirlwind looked to Spike, who just shrugged. “Oh right, you don’t know about that part about me yet. I forgot to mention it, I guess. Tell you later.”
“Well, alright, if you’re sure.” With that, Handy began walking away. “Woah, wait, stop!”
“What?” Handy asked.
“Don’t step beyond the shield! She’ll see you!” Spike hissed.
“Who?” Handy asked. At that moment, Meranax loomed over their hiding spot once more, and Handy looked up thoughtfully. “Oh right. Forgot about her.”
“How could you forget?!” Spike asked incredulously after Meranax had passed over them.
“I had other things on my mind!” Handy defended
“What could possibly be more important right now?” he demanded while Whirlwind just looked at him, an odd expression on his face.
“I don’t know, I thought I’d have a look at some of these crates, see what other treasure I could take from under her nose,” Handy defended.
“You said you forgot about her!”
“I had until you reminded me.”
“And since when do you steal while in the middle of a fight?” Whirlwind asked.
“I… don’t?” Handy held his head for a moment. “Just… seemed like something… I dunno. I wanted to, I guess. Seemed like a good idea to go poking around.”
“How hard did you hit your head?” Spike huffed.
“There you are!” A dragon claw slammed down, claws first, no less than a foot away from where Whirlwind was, crushing stacks of treasure beneath her weight. Meranax snarled in anger at the crushed heirlooms and looted statuettes of precious metals and fine craftsmanship. The shock of the impact was enough to knock Whirlwind to his knees and cause him to finally drop his shield. They were revealed, and Meranax’s displeasure was quickly replaced with sneering triumph.
“Run!” Spike shouted.
”You cannot run from me!” Meranax declared, reaching over and blocking their exit with a claw. She loomed over them, blocking out the light of the crystal above. “Not anymore! You’re all going to pay for every treasure you have wrecked!”
“None of these are even yours anyway!” Whirlwind snapped up at the dragon, his voice hoarse with unrestrained pain and fury. “The only reason we’re here at all is because of you!”
“You should hold your tongue, insect,” Meranax grinned viciously with every fang on display, “lest I pluck those pretty stones from your horns, with your head as well!”
Whirlwind didn’t reply in any articulate fashion, instead launching into a stream of invective in the native tongue of the deer. The language was more living poetry than anything, and it was hard to imagine something that inherently pretty would produce anything crude. Judging by Whirlwind’s tone and Meranax’s sour expression, he was presumably questioning her parentage in a robust fashion.
Spike turned to Handy and found the human yet again distracted by the innumerable treasures surrounding them, not focusing on the dragon problem.
Spike dragged his claws over his face before his attention was drawn to an object that rolled against his foot. It was the small sphere made out of aventurine. He gingerly lifted it up. Was this another one or the same sphere he had thrown earlier? As he drifted his claws over its surface, one of them caught on a catch, lifting a tiny portion of the valuable stone work outwards like a switch, and the ball began to glow with a soft interior illumination. It hummed and began to vibrate with greater intensity with each passing second, and he felt a creeping sensation of apprehension prickle underneath his scales.
His immediate instinct was to throw it, but a glint of light off one of the cyclopean mirror shards caught his eye, and inspiration struck him. He could not make the toss, but maybe…
“Handy!” He turned towards the drake as he was called, several talismans, amulets, and crafted precious metalwork jangling about his neck. “Toss this as hard as you can up there!”
“Why?” Handy asked disinterestedly, almost annoyed and uncaring that parts of his clothing were still smouldering. Whatever dragon blood did to him, it really distracted him. Spike just blinked at his dismissive response as he shook his head.
“Hit that mirror up there with this ball and I, uh…” He desperately looked around, spying a circlet of polished brass laced with delicate and intricate knotwork of mother-of-pearl set in an arrangement of flying creatures chasing each other around its rim. He picked it out of the open chest. “I'll give you this!”
He half-expected the human to question it, given it was the first thing to come into his head as he struggled to respond to Handy’s unexpected disinterest. Instead, Handy all but yanked the glowing orb out of Spike’s hand and, with phenomenal strength, launched the ball directly at the mirror. It shot out of his hand like a bullet, and the sight of the glowing orb dragged Meranax’s attention away from the stag below her as she saw it crash into the mirror’s base, shattering it and bringing the silver glass down on the rest of the treasure like a rain of crystal tears. She screamed and launched herself up onto the mountain of stacked treasure chests, sending avalanches of broken stone, wood, and precious treasures as her claws tore into it for leverage. Whatever the ball was, it was precious to her to not care about the other damage she was doing to her own treasure to get at it.
Then it exploded.
A vortex of magical energy and a wall of blindingly white light filled the cavern, all but consuming the half of Meranax bowed over the treasure mountain. Their only saving grace from blindness was their relative cover thanks to their location. Meranax’s roar of pain caused the cavern to shake, treasure to rattle and shift, and at least one other mirror to shatter off in the distance. The massive dragon fell back, clutching her eyes, from which emerged two massive plumes of smoke between her claws. She crashed back bodily onto more treasure, sending avalanches in all directions.
“Move!” Spike bellowed, pushing Handy out of danger alongside a bounding Whirlwind. Handy was searing to the touch, and Spike briefly noticed some of the gold touching his skin was beginning to actually melt. Despite that, it didn’t seem to bother him.
They ran outside the range of the collapsing treasure horde, which was made worse as Meranax thrashed in her blindness and fury. The more she thrashed, the more treasure she scattered, the more her fury grew, the more frustrated she became in her blindness, and the more she thrashed. Eventually, she started raising her maw skyward and unleashing gouts of flame in frustration, which burned several of the priceless tapestries, causing the fire to spread to several of the drier treasure chest piles, and threatened to melt away the wrought iron framework of the cavern’s ceiling which held the magical light-giving crystal in its cradle. Indeed, the flame passed over the crystal several times, the crystal audibly straining in the heat. Slowly, the cavern was being turned into an oven.
“Quick! I saw a way out!” Spike coughed harshly.
“Where?” Whirlwind demanded breathlessly.
“Uh…” It occurred to Spike then and there that in the midst of the confusion of Meranax pulling him from the tapestry, his fall into the middle of the treasure horde, his blind run, the blinding light obfuscating and disorientating his sense of direction for a moment too long, and the now raging fires casting odd shadows across the walls… he now had no idea where the exit actually was. “Look, doesn't matter right now. We need to get high up again, and far enough away from her that it won’t matter. Then we can see where it is and get out. Handy, come on!”
The pair ran off for a few seconds before they realised Handy wasn’t with them. Spike stopped and looked back, Whirlwind arresting his sprint not much further ahead.
“Handy?” The human, after a bit of backtracking, was discovered having wandered off in the direction of a particularly unimpressive pile of, apparently, weapons. “What are you doing?”
They hurried over to the pile, dodging the odd suit of armour or chest of gold the size of a wagon being flung through the air with deadly force and exploding on the ground around them like a gilded cannonade. Spike was pretty sure he saw a statue of one of the princesses flying through the air, but it looked small and was missing a horn.
“Handy!”
“It's here somewhere…” he heard the human mutter to himself over the racket Meranax was causing, which meant he was speaking out loud and at volume. “I can see it.”
“Get down from there! She’ll hea—” Spike was cut off when Whirlwind yanked him out of the way of a treasure chest Handy sent flying with a casual flick of his wrist. He was digging through the mound of treasure, hefting and flinging chests almost half as large as he was above and behind him. They crashed on the ground around them, forcing them to find cover. “What did that dragon do to him?”
“I think it wiser to ask what did he take from her?” Whirlwind replied, crouching with Spike close to the base of the mountain of weaponry to take cover from the human’s burrowing. Eventually, it stopped and a shout of triumph came from above. When they peeked from their hiding place, they saw Handy, or rather his clenched fist and the silver engraved war hammer it held there… and the furious visage of Meranax towering above them all.
She was blinded, scorch marks having burned the scales around her closed eyes and leaving her face blackened. But her ears worked perfectly fine.
”Found you!” Her claw rose up and sped towards them with a horrifying finality, like watching a building come down on you. Whirlwind leapt aside; Spike attempted to run but tripped over the clutter of ruined war gear at his feet. Handy leapt.
His war hammer cracked against the hide of the dragon, striking with precision against the flesh exposed by her sickened scales, causing a gout of blood to erupt and scald the treasure chests below them. Meranax roared in renewed agony, sending the claw just off kilter enough to slam into the ground without crushing Spike utterly.
Handy landed heavily, having clearly not looked at where he was leaping but simply seeing an opportunity and going for it, crashing to the ground in a sprawl of limbs. He scrambled to his feet despite the fall from such a large height. Meranax’s eyes sprang open and were immediately awash with a ghostly green glint. A sickening smell erupted from her gullet, and words formed by tortured vocal cords uttered obscene and incomprehensible sounds that pained the ear, although her open mouth and seemingly petrified tongue did not follow the noise they made.
The world seemed to crush them, gravity not only pulling them down but closing about them like a vice, threatening to crush the oxygen from their lungs. The air about them seemed to scream, and semi-visible rents and tears could be seen out of the corner of one’s eyes about the visible edges of objects and persons around them but which disappeared when you focused the eye upon them. It hurt to think.
“YOU ARE MINE NOW AND FOREVERMORE. GIVE UP. GIVE UP AND ACCEPT YOUR FATE. THE BLOODLINE IS DESTINED TO THE FATE OF THE CANDLE, TO HAVE THEIR FIRE BURN FROM WITHIN THEM UNCEASING UNTIL THEY CAN NO LONGER WITHHOLD IT AND BURN THEIR LIFE’S FIRE CONTINUOUSLY AS THEIR MUSCLES TURN TO WAX AND THEIR PROUD SCALES FALL OFF. THEIRS IS THE DAMNATION OF WATCHING, HELPLESS, AS THEIR VERY FLESH MELTS AWAY AS WAX FROM A CANDLE, THE WICK OF WHICH IS THEIR OWN MAWS.” Her voice was everywhere at once, their bodies shaking with the force of it. Spike couldn’t move, Whirlwind’s tired legs finally gave out from underneath him, and Handy seemed frozen in place. The crystal above strained again, the one noise that seemed to cut through the screaming air.
“IT IS MY FATE AS WELL, AND I WOULD KNOW WHY YOU HAVE NO FLAME, LITTLE DRAKE, SO THAT I MAY ESCAPE OUR FATE! THE RED SCEPTRE SHALL NOT HAVE MY ESSENCE FROM WHICH IT MAY EXTRACT JUDGEMENT OF MY LIFE SO THAT ITS ANGER BE SATED! MINE IS IMMORTALITY UNENDING! YOU CAN DO NOTHING FOR THEM NOW, NOR FOR YOURSELF. GIVE UP OR I WILL CRUSH YOUR FRIENDS! THEIR TREASURE AND WORTH IS LESS THAN YOURS, DRAKE!” The pressure on his mind was immense. He could almost feel the inevitability of their words, could almost anticipate them before he heard them. She was right. This was hopeless; they couldn’t escape a fully grown dragon in its own lair. Whenever he managed it before, his friends had a clear way out, or someone actually went out of their way to rescue him. They were alone here. There was nothing they could do.
“N . . . No . . .” The screaming air was deafening, the tears in the corner of his vision growing larger and more jagged. The pressure was almost overbearing even for a dragon; he didn’t know how the other two could cope, how they were even alive. Even now, he could feel the greater dragon’s words before they came. He knew he would not be able to withst— “I said NO!”
Just like that, the spell was broken. Like a rope that had frayed too much and suddenly gave way with a snap, the pressure around them disappeared, the air returned to normal, the horrific noise and smell ceased, and Meranax blinked, the sickly green film to her eyes having vanished and leaving the dragon blinking, her eyes apparently having recovered from their repeated abuse.
“How can… Only the bearer—” Spike fell back and struggled to open his eyes. When he did, he briefly made out a familiar rock formation high up in the cavern, revealed by the uninterrupted light of the crystal right where the shattered mirror had stood. It had blocked it from his sight before on the ground, but looking at it now...
Handy roared, charging forward as he swung the hammer in an upwards arc and brought it back down upon the nail of the dragon’s claw, cracking it in half. The human laughed maniacally, scaring the other two. Meranax reared up again and more of the treasure fell; she turned and her wing tore a priceless tapestry apart; she rose and the gold cascaded down her sides, mixing with baser metals. She roared in fury, a sound that inspired a primordial fear in lesser creatures, shaking the three of them to the core and the cavern until dust fell from the ceiling. The already weakened crystal cracked, halted its rotation, and broke, falling from its cradle. Its magic dispelled in a rush of energy, and the room was cloaked in darkness with nothing but the dragon’s furious breath shot into the cavern’s roof for light.
In the hellish darkness, backlit by the flames of dragon fire that would have boiled the blood in their veins with its heat had her maw been anywhere other than a dozen feet from where they stood, Spike grabbed them both, by horn and by tunic, and yanked them, using the brief light afforded them by Meranax to guide them to the path he had seen earlier, leading out of the cavern and, hopefully, to their freedom.
In the end, Meranax, who needed less light than them, closed her mouth, her genuine frustration abated. She looked down to watch them flee, being sure to shout in fury and thrash amidst her ill-gotten treasures if any of them dared look back, roaring in the darkness again and again until, at long last, she was sure they had escaped. When she was done, she slumped, releasing a long held breath of exhaustion and waving her claw. Magic engulfed it, proper magic, not the perversion she had sold her freedom for so long ago. The subtle illusion shifted around the cavern, revealing the many entrances and exits she had made for herself over the years. It also revealed the iron peytral she wore, worn with age, but unlike so many of the treasures that now lay strewn about her, clearly loved and cared for, without a spot of rust after so many years, nor magical degradation after so many spells cast to keep the metal from falling apart after numerous repairs.
At the centre laid an almost miniscule gem of brightest amethyst, at the centre of an embossed snowflake superimposed upon a starburst. She tapped the centre and the circular gem sprang to life, bathing what was before her in purple shaded light, and as she did so, opened a small door in her peytrel. In it, almost minuscule scrolls were stored. She tugged on one, read the words to herself, breathed a sigh of relief, and shuddered as the last vestiges of old magic left her mind without clouding any more of her memory, then closed it again. She tsked as she gently moved the treasure out of her way until she found the one thing she was looking for. It was a tall casket, almost funerary in its ornamentation, but built to be standing upright. One of her most mournful treasures and one she had so long ago buried to forget its memory beneath her horde, but which mocked her in its gentle yet firm resilience against the wear of time’s millstone. With a gentle flick of her unbroken claw, she undid the latch, the doors gently gliding open, the long-held stale air of a thousand years and more gushing forth.
It was worn away, the splendour absent. It was a simple thing, after all, made for the simple, brutal purpose of war. The leather had worn away, but the mail was in good condition, and the various parts had not fallen, nor had the worked wood given away to rot and allowed the armour to fall. She was no longer the size she once was where she could handle each part with care, so she left it lying there, touching it with the tip of her claw. The gem at the centre of the cuirass’ breast lit up, much like her own, and she sighed.
“I cannot undo what I have done,” she said in a tiny voice, audible only to herself. “Not what I did then, not what I have done now. For the same foolish cause no less. But maybe…”
She paused, looking up. She was not one given to prayer, nor to hope. Indeed, it was that very despair, that mystery of the far north where dragons surely died, where they must die, that had driven her into her madness. It had driven her to steal the armour in her jealousy, having made her pact with the dark power of old magic that the Mistress offered her, the very same foolish mistake that had forced her dear friend that only she remembered out of all of them that were alive to remember her, to chase after her that she might be rescued. She probably could have. After all, she very nearly did, and had she succeeded, Meranax would not have been surprised. She had done so time and again.
She wondered for a moment that if she were there today, had the Curse of Doubt been lifted and her memory restored to the world, were she alive enough to speak, and if Meranax dared ask, would she forgive her?
Would she be able to tolerate that forgiveness if she did?
She put the thought to rest. Only those who were equally under the sword of the Curse of Doubt that was the price of using old magic could remember others who had done so, and she had been forgotten by the world and all who knew and loved her. Nothing more could be said and done about it, and tears would be wasted. She closed the casket, and looked once more to where her would-be prey had fled.
She might not be able to undo one wrong, but perhaps, with the cost of her blood, and the price of her claw and eye, damnation of her bloodline could be avoided. She had not the moral courage to do so herself. The human she could not have convinced to do so, even had she paid him, for his fear and hatred of the dragons went deep, she knew, and the deer… might just have gotten himself and the others killed had she tried to reason with him and revealed what she had done, instead of forcing him to see sense by displaying her power first. However, the little dragon cared. He cared just enough to follow this through, and Ember would care just enough that she might listen when he told her he had a means of saving them all. Maybe, but that was for Providence to see through. For now, she had some counting to attend to.
“One… two… three,” she mumbled to herself, picking two coins of like make and age and placing them into one claw. She looked around and sighed. It seemed as though she would have to skip dinner this evening, and for the next week.
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I was eating during that first half. I could've gone without reading about partaking in puss and blood.
great chapter btw
that was uh. cool.
veddy nice.
That... Was... Awesome!!!
Also: "Handy... WANT!"
huh...well that was unexpected.
It's probably still Monday somewhere in the Pacific. You really aren't doing my sleep schedule any favors, Handyman.
At least now I know why this story was in the "more than one human" folder in the Good HiE List.
Wow. Just... Wow.
Handy is cursed with dragon greed now.
That's just peeeerfect. That'll go well for EVERYONE.
Damn this story is good.
fucking hell, so meranax knows megan, that doesn't bode well
also, avaricious handy is best handy
Another amazing chapter!
T'was alright.
I can't wait until the princesses are confronted with that question.
8535716
Wait I’m confused, it’s been a while since I read most of this story. Who is Megan? And where does it say meranax knew her?
8535930
Megan williams is the dead ? crystal queen, the once upon a time ruler of all ponies( https://pre00.deviantart.net/c543/th/pre/f/2013/111/5/a/imperium_by_equestria_prevails-d62la1u.png ), and as for knowing her, i think shes as old as the princess or more, afterall she said so herself.
the rest is yet to come, i believe.
p.s. totally saw the flying firefly statue, though when i said i wanted to see firefly again, i didnt think it would be this way.
p.s.s Amazing job Handyman, though im confused now, wtf happened to Handy?
8535930
Megan was an ancient hero in the time before time, lost in thousands of years since. One of the first heroes of Harmony from before the tribes unified.
8536071
The blood gave him the greed of the dragon, once he had something to horde, he revived.
8535930
Megan Fox, duh.
8536106
Har har JBL
8536082
and it seem also the strenght of one, but that i think is going be a temporary powerbuff
This chapter brought to you by Phencyclidine.
For when 'going down fighting buried in twenty cops' is too lightweight for you.
8535930 ‘Megan Williams’ is the name of the human protagonist from the previous MLP show.
As for where it says the dragon knew her,
And from chapter 18
'The crystal queen' is the title Magen Williams is known by in 'Equestira prevails'. She is depicted as being pretty much the God Empress of pony kind, who founded the Crystal empire and ruled for hundreds of years before mysteriously disappearing and being all but forgotten by history. The gold cloak militia ponies, shoot sticks and bat pony electric claws in Bad Mondays are also pretty close to how they are depicted in Equestria prevails
i wonder if handy now unlocked super strength and is now pemanetly stronger thydikaly and phere haps sligtly more fireproof?
but by anny means great chapter man keep it upp! and gonna be intresting what next comes
Man, Handy sounds pretty hot in this chapter.
Hey hey you're not supposed to make me feel bad for and interested in the bad guys! Thats twice now! Great chapter! (As usual) Seriously this fanfic is amazing, it is what got me into the fandom period, and inspired me to write my own fanfiction.
8536071
He got a full draconic blood-high (though it may have been somewhat corrupted/off due to drinking from a diseased area) from drinking from the single oldest dragon alive, even if it was only a mouthful. Quality made up for quantity it seems, but it remains to be seen whether it will make enough of a difference to make it permanent like his Changeling abilities (drank very little from a powerful and ancient individual versus gorging on Changeling blood.)
I thought his predecessor was dead. Do you mean whacking?
8536082
So when did we learn about this girl Megan? I honestly can't recall this human from this story. Is she a reference to another story? So, this also means there's been more humans in equastria before Handy? Sorry for all the questions, I'm just generally confused about this part of the chapter.
8536938 see this comment>>8536313
8536929 The lord of winter it supposed to sleep during all seasons expects winter. That’s why the lake spirit initially refused to crown whirlwind as the new one, she thought the previous lord of winter broke the pact. Part of Whirlwinds pact for becoming the new one is to find whatever woke said predecessor up, it's why the old rule of having to sleep doesn't apply to him.
Reading some of the comments...
68.media.tumblr.com/dd9a2a5658cceae824c8138435abd68a/tumblr_inline_n4ecqwOM1n1qfqrsn.gif
Well, that was very interesting. Lots of insight into what's going on behind the scenes here, and I'm very much looking forwards to seeing the princesses reactions to Meranax's revelations.
8536330
I doubt it. He had to get quite a bit of changeling blood to make that effect permanent, and while the larger size of a dragon does mean he could almost certainly get enough from a single dragon to do the job, he only got a little bit here so it is highly unlikely this will be permanent, especially considering the blood he got was contaminated.
Man, I'm just here for Handy, why he gotta be knocked out or cray cray?
Hope he regains his mind soon, but good chapter either way. Good to know what happens when he drinks dragon blood.
I also hope drinking the dragon blood gave him an immunity to fire, that would be kick ass, since Celestia seems to know its his weakness. Just imagining her seeing someone try to use fire to scare him to submission, only for him to grab whatever they're using by the flame and toss it away would be hilarious. She'd end up thinking that he showed her that flaw on purpose or something, and is continually mind fucking her.
The thought alone amuses me.
8536974
You know, I've actually been reading this. I know Whirlwind's predecessor was woken. But it's also been implied several times that he was murdered too. It hasn't been that long since those chapters. In addition to that, you shouldn't attribute another author's works to this story. It's entirely plausible that the title means something else entirely. Yes, it does seem to be reference, but it's not supposed to be as overt as you attribute its meaning.
8537207 chapter 35
The lady of the lake took the lord of winters power away at the moment he needed it most because she thought he broke the pact. That's how the lord of winter died.
My reply was made after someone referenced that same work, and the second person I pointed to it specifically asked if it was a reference to another work and I used the specific phrasing 'she is depicted as' and pointed out how Megan is originally character from the old cartoon to account for the possible coincidence or potential difference in depiction AND I put it in spoilers.
Massive spoiler don't say you haven't been warned- Handy has already confirmed in a reply on a blog that the reference is overt.
As usual, love the chapter, and corrections:
First and second have entire section in bold, not just the speaking
He can hold his breath that long?
8537256
. . . I wasn't asking you a question or trying to get you to clarify. I've read that exact same section, and I remember it vividly. In fact, in the exact same section, it also implies Whirlwind's predecessor's death. During the entire arc, they never mention that same predecessor's name, and just about every time they referenced him in that arc, he was brought up as 'missing'. There are quite large clues leading to that conclusion. I'm not saying that the term 'waking' is incorrect. It's that it could also be on the other foot. It probably isn't, though because JBL, Jude, and Shocks are excellent proofreaders and editors.
And I personally believe in the death of the author concept. Handy may intend for that to be the case, but until confirmation occurs inside the story itself, it remains but a mere possibility and not decided lore for the story.
So... the whole thing was planned by the old lizard, basically? What a twist.
Can't wait to see what crazy permanent effects dragon blood has on Handy from here on out.
Finally a new chapter. Hooray!
8537036
We've had decades to study the work in our saviour's absence. There are dozen(s) of loyal fans.
Now excuse me while I reread this monolith because fuck, I'm rust on this.
noice
OOOO man, Spike was fantastic in this one. In all the chapters you have written him in, really. I continue to be astounded at your craft and just how utterly unique you maintain to be.
oh and Whirlwind and Handy were great to. You gave us another interesting deer spell, and the effects of dragons blood. OOOooo. really exciting and tense stuff.
8537404
Forgetfulness seems to be one of them, also a doomguy complex, if we go by his maniacal laughter and the fact he jumped meranax .
8538058
Hey, a doomguy complex is possibly the best possible outcome. No time to fear your enemies when you're ripping them to pieces.
Wouldnt Mistress feel that her Dragon slave had broken their spell?
Handy wouldnt get the same effect off her the next time if he was allowed to feed, because he fed on the Oathed, corrupted dragon blood? Would that make it in someway permanent if not full dragon permanence which would give Handy scales, wings and a rampant Want for shiney things and hot babes?
Wouldnt the dragons OCD with the treasure match with Handys vampire blood effect, and what would a vampire dragon be. That undead thing Handy killed? and barring destruction, and possibly even through, extremely long existanced?
Not really sure what to say, but whew, that went a bit nuts there
. The part where Handy asked Spiked about the coins was the best 
8538058
I blame the derg blood in him making him half insane
Great chapter, my man!
Handy can't consistently keep drinking dragon's blood, since it has numerous adverse effects on him.
Such as eggs forming inside him with no way to get out.
8536113
They aways are, unless he keeps drinking the bloodnfor a time or in large quantities, likr with the changrling thing.
I love how Handy starts looting everything more than ever because of Meranax's blood.
8539326
now thats fucked up
8536929
pretty sure it should be 'waking', unless there are, like, mobsters running about...
hah, a second note, I just realized after reading some of the comments, dragonblood also turns Handy into Doomguy.
A really REALLY greedy Doomguy, but Doomguy nonetheless.