A Rather Large Adventure

by BradyBunch

Chapter Eighty-seven: The Battle of Heaven and Earth, part 1

The entire sky was alive with war. Streaks of violent color shot across Spike’s vector, and dragons collided with dragons in tufts of flame. Where there was not a creature, there was only a dark grey sky.

Spike clung for dear life to one of the red spikes on his head, keeping a wide eye on the firefight. Torch had enclosed more than half the distance from the portal to the mountain by the time Spike was able to comprehend what he was seeing. Streaks of multicolored light flew towards them from the tip of the mountain, occasionally hitting a dragon in their swarm.

The real worst part about it all was that they couldn’t fire back. Except for Freedom Fighter, of course; his staff had converted into an energy bow, and he was firing occasionally at the mountain. It was so far away, however, that Spike wasn’t sure if the buzzing yellow shots hit anything.

“WHERE IS HE?” Torch bellowed at the mountain. “WHERE IS THAT SCUM-SUCKING BUG?!”

In reply, an alien shriek rippled through the air as a white speck emerged from the black clouds covering the mountain, twisting its way into his path.

“There!” Freedom yelled, pointing.

“Don’t do anything stupid, dad!” Garble yelled above the commotion.

“He wants a fight?” Torch growled. “He’ll get one!”

His speed doubled. Spike wrapped his entire arms around the one spike keeping him from falling off. Torch’s mouth gaped wide open, and as the outline of Malice grew clear, a fountain of flame fired from his jaws.

It engulfed the white figure completely. Torch closed the distance more and more.

“Take me!” Freedom urged Garble. “While he can’t see us!”

Garble accordingly yanked Freedom Fighter off his father’s head and carried him by the armpits. Spike was left alone on the gargantuan dragon.

“Keep on your guard!” Spike warned Torch as the fire continued to spew. “He’s hard to kill!”

Torch’s flame died down, and as the tongue of flame cut off, it revealed Malice, who was untouched by the flame. No black marred his ugly white body.

“Did you actually think fire could harm a dragon?” Malice mocked, brandishing the Bloodstone scepter.

“Duck!” Spike yelled.

Torch’s head swerved aside just as the red laser buzzed through his cheek, slashing it open. Torch bellowed in pain and swiped hard at Malice, but the abomination was just out of reach, and Malice hovered even higher above him mockingly.

“Try harder!” Malice encouraged. “I thought you wanted to kill me!”

Torch roared and slashed up, puffing his wings. But Malice expertly slithered between his claws just in time.

“Don’t play his game!” Spike yelled.

“What am I supposed to DO?!” Torch roared, giving a wide sweep in Malice’s general direction.

“I got an idea!” Spike yelled in response. “Toss me!”

Torch’s eyes slid up questioningly, even though he couldn’t see Spike.

“Look, I can’t jump to him!” Spike defended. “You’ll have to toss me! Please!”

Torch sighed and pinched Spike delicately between two claws. He lifted him up and cocked his arm, ready to throw.

“Hey!” Spike yelled in Torch’s ear. “Don’t tell Garble?”

“Of course not,” Torch promised. Spike’s stomach sank. He was definitely going to tell him.

The next time Malice stopped looping in midair, he presented himself with all his half-hundred arms wide open. “Come now, my Lord. I know you wouldn’t pass up--wait.” His three eyes squinted. “What are you-”

Torch’s arm came down like a catapult, and Spike was flung at a respectable fraction of the speed of sound.

It took only a moment before Spike impacted him in the chest, knocking the air out of both him and the creature. Spike counted himself lucky he landed at a good angle; at the wrong one, he could have broken his own neck. At the moment, he was stuck like a sticker. Gingerly, his little hands gripped ridges in Malice’s exoskeleton and turned himself around.

“What?” Malice repeated in a gasp, tilting his head down, and Spike, clinging to his exoskeleton for dear life, saw his three red eyes staring into his own green ones.

His claw sought to peel Spike off his chest, but Spike leaped and clung to his own spindly arm, which began to shake up and down and to the side. He swung out, then back, then out again like on the monkey bars, and dropped onto the nape of Malice’s neck. He clambered out of the reach of Malice’s grubby, sharpened claws and gripped tightly to his twin horns.

“Get your disgusting paws off me!” Malice howled, throwing his head back and forth like a bucking bull. But thanks to Spike’s opposable thumbs, his grip was tougher than Malice realized, and when he flung his head forward Spike only slammed on top of his skull. Less than a few inches away were Malice’s three eyes, which widened at the implications.

Spike, without hesitation, puckered his lips and blew a steady stream of fire. It washed across Malice’s field of vision in all three eyes, filling them with emerald green.

“You utter fool!” Malice declared contemptibly. “Have you learned nothing? I cannot-”

A squelch cut off his line, and Malice shrieked and clutched his skull, dropping several meters in altitude. Spike’s arm was burrowed deep into Malice’s upper left eye, right above the black wound running across his dead lower eye.

Spike’s fist was balled up, small enough to fit in Malice’s eye socket. With a snarl of uncharacteristic vindictiveness, Spike’s fist opened and spread his fingers.

Malice’s screech of agony was deafening, ear-splitting. The Bloodstone scepter in his claw fell free, spinning to the blackened earth far below. His thrashing arms windmilled wildly as he spun, billowing fire of his own from his shrieking jaws. Spike’s grip on two points was the only thing keeping him from flying off due to centripetal force.

Malice jerked his head forward, spinning Spike off his skull and making him dangle by one arm from his bleeding, empty eye socket. Spike jammed his arm firmly inside to keep him from falling. Then he began to rake the still-sensitive black scar on his lower eye with his other hand’s fingertips.

Heaving in deep, desperate, groaning breaths and crying from his intact right eyes, Malice’s claw groped beside Spike for a moment before feeling him, grabbing him around the belly, groaning in preparation, and yanking his arm out.

Malice screamed at the top of his lungs once more, and his throat was getting sore. Red discolored the left of his face and neck like spilled paint on a fresh canvas. His altitude had dropped at least a hundred feet, his wingbeats unsteady and asynchronized. Fire was curling between his yellowing teeth.

Malice held Spike at arm’s length. It was the only way he could see him by now unless he held him from the right.

“YOU!” Malice bellowed, clear and red liquid streaming down opposite sides of his deformed face. “Twilight’s pet!”

His spindly arm bent inward and stuffed Spike between the cages of his stubbier lower legs, which folded around him like talons and squeezed Spike into his body. The legs tightened like pythons, and Spike was soon gasping for air.

“You are NOTHING!” Malice screeched wildly, squeezing inexorably. One of Malice’s long, spindly legs bent itself up, preparing to puncture him. Spike couldn’t avoid it.

And all of a sudden, the arm flew free from his body.

Malice groaned and spun around, searching for the source with blurry eyes. Those eyes turned up into the smoke blanketing the atmosphere. Then they widened in fear.

Descending from the cloud line, trailing smoke, was the perfect golden body of Freedom Fighter, his energy bow already drawn for the second time. The magic projectile was loosed, and fired right into Malice’s face.

Or at least, it would have if Malice hadn’t snatched it in midair. The bolt sizzled in his grip, and Malice was cringing the longer he held it, but he could do it. Looking wildly around, he just hurled it back at Freedom.

The earth pony jolted his bow to convert it back into a staff and swung up to bat it back, but the bolt never connected with the staff. It never meant to. It instead sheared through his metal arm at the shoulder.

The metal arm tumbled away into oblivion, and his grip on the weapon fumbled until that, too, fell loose. And there was nothing to break Freedom Fighter’s descent either. Suddenly frightened beyond belief, Freedom Fighter screamed as he tumbled helplessly through the sky.

Before his spinning staff could follow him, Malice swooped in and grabbed it.

It immediately started to scald his claws, and Malice urgently swiveled his head, examining what to do. He froze as he looked down.

Torch was quickly closing in from below, reaching out and opening his monstrous jaws that could swallow him whole.

Thinking quickly, Malice adjusted the grip and held the staff near his ear like a javelin.

Torch could see it coming. But a dragon his size at that speed couldn’t change trajectory in time.

The staff flew like an arrow into Torch’s gaping maw.

It disappeared into his gullet just as fire built up in his throat, and the result was an incredible explosion in his mouth. Torch bellowed once more, like the mighty beast he was, and his momentum abruptly ceased. Then, after hanging in the air for a split second, plunged like a stone to the earth.

“Torch!” Spike managed to squeeze out. His little fingers were still prying with all their strength at the legs caging him.

The flapping of wings caught Malice’s and Spike’s attention. A thin purple dragon with a crooked snout had finally caught up with Malice, doubled over to catch his breath. In his tight grip was a small Black Blade. The dragon’s attention was focused on the quickly-disappearing form of Torch. His eyes were wide, his forehead furrowed.

“The last remainder... of the royal bloodline... is gone,” Malice heaved. “Now all that’s left… is you.”

Spike, thinking quickly, did the one thing he could do. He chomped on one of the thick, grubby legs across his throat and began to gnaw furiously.

Malice grit his own teeth and peeled that leg back, giving Spike some room to take a deep inhale.

“There’s one more,” Spike gasped.

“Oh, you mean that yellow-bellied idiot?” Malice mocked, tossing Spike up and gripping onto him with half a dozen grubby legs. “He’s a dead dragon already.”

Whereupon his head swiveled around, his horns igniting. Garble, who had been flying right at him with a scream, was immobilized in a white aura. As an afterthought, he did the same to Spike.

The two trembling dragons hovered right in front of Malice. The intact right side of his face blinked simultaneously, and his stretched, hideous grin grew.

Venom squirmed at the sight of them.

---

Freedom Fighter’s reckless world spun.

Moving his left arm felt like moving static. It just wasn’t there. Naked and exposed, disarmed, in freefall, and wounded, Freedom Fighter’s only desperate thoughts were pleas to the Goddess.

As it turned out, there were no angels to stop his descent, no slow reorientation. There was only the ever-growing pulse of the Element embedded in the stump of his metal shoulder.

Freedom Fighter screamed as he tumbled end over end. What could he do to break his fall? Nothing was in his control. For earth ponies like him, falling was a surrender to the inexorable force of nature.

His frontal lobe thumped. Probably a result of the freefall. A spike was being planted into his forehead, right where…

...where his white birthmark was.

The pulse of the Element in his shoulder grew even hotter.

His squeezed-shut eyes opened in realization. All of a sudden he understood.

Gripping the remains of his shoulder, he tugged and pried at the edges surrounding the Element of Sacrifice. With an almighty cry, he ripped the stone clear out of the metal socket.

The ground was only seconds away. He could see the details of the lava creek flow.

With all the strength and will he could muster, Freedom Fighter punched himself in the forehead. The stone made contact with the spot of his birthmark, and almost immediately it embedded through his skin into his skull.

And Freedom Fighter’s descent slowed down, like he was on a drop tower, before stopping altogether. Hovering in the air, surrounded by a vivid yellow aura, Freedom Fighter writhed and clutched at the metal remains of his shoulder. Desperately, he yanked on it, jiggled it out, and finally ripped it away from the empty stump of his socket altogether and tossed it away.

The corona of the sun covered every inch of his body, including the slowly-forming bones and flesh of his left arm. It originated from the glittering, shimmering stone planted in his head, in the spot where it had been ordained to be so long ago.

Freedom Fighter tilted his head up. The fight was still going on.

Lifting his still-forming left arm over his head, Freedom Fighter sailed up.

---

“Venom,” Malice invited, spreading his arms wide. “The final tie to the past. With their deaths, it will be done.”

Garble inadvertently made eye contact with Venom, and Venom froze, immediately looking down in shame. For Garble’s eyes boiled with fury.

“And so I offer you this chance.” Malice floated them both closer to the purple dragon. “Prove the depth of your devotion.”

Venom’s mouth quivered as he lifted his head. This time, he met Garble’s fierce expression, although he couldn’t match it. His eyes twitched over to Spike, then back to Garble. His two-handed grip on the knife was trembling.

“Finish the job,” Malice urged with a growl. “Don’t you know what you want in life?”

Venom squeezed his eyes shut. “I do,” he murmured.

“Yes,” Malice encouraged, inhaling deep through the holes that were supposed to be nostrils. “I know your heart, Venom. I know you want to lash out with that weapon I gave you, to use it! I declare, to the whole world, you are no longer a servant, a dog! You are free to do as you want! You want to tear through flesh, shear bone! And kill your enemies!”

Venom gave a tight nod. “Yeah.” He looked up at Malice’s bouncing wing. “I do!”

With an upward sweep of his arm, Venom made a long tear in the leathery wing as it came down. It sounded like ripping paper.

Malice shrieked and tilted. The magic enveloping Garble and Spike cut off, and both of them fell. Garble instinctually reached out and grabbed ahold of the scruff of Spike’s neck. Garble adjusted his wings into a downward flight pattern, and the two of them quickly disappeared.

Meanwhile, Venom sped up and away, but he didn’t get far before he was enveloped in white magic himself. Suddenly flailing, Venom was floated over to the monster he once served. Malice’s scarlet eyes blazed like suns.

“You dare!” Malice roared in his face, and sparks flew out like spittle.

“Yes, I dare,” Venom defied. “I’ve had enough killing for one lifetime.”

“I agree,” Malice hissed. “So your life shall end!”

His magical horns pulsed brighter. Venom bent backwards at a terrible angle. Snaps and pops erupted from his spine, and despite his best efforts to bend forward again, Venom let out a scream of agony.

But his scream was drowned out in the shriek of something else approaching Malice’s position rapidly.

Malice snarled and spun to the source, and upon seeing it, he swerved his head to the side to avoid one of his horns getting cracked in half. A sun-yellow stream shot across his axis and temporarily blinded his intact eyes. Malice blinked intensely to clear his vision.

He immediately wished he hadn’t.

The Unforgiven, in all his glory, was hovering in midair like an angel. He was in a nimbus of brilliant yellow light, matching his unmarred coat color. He was muscular, undefiled; completely exposed, but untouchable. Even his limbs were whole again, and his black mane stood up, waving on end. His vivid scarlet eyes stood out from his body, and those eyes seemed so similar to Malice’s own that it gave him pause.

He instinctively released Venom, and the traitor immediately dipped below his altitude.

Neither light nor shadow gave his exit a second glance.

After all Malice had done, after all of Malice’s triumphs and losses, his failures and trials, and after all the scars, torture, and mutilation on both parties, the Unforgiven had endured. Or even, perhaps, the reason he endured was because Malice tried to erase the Unforgiven in the first place.

By attempting to prevent prophecy, Malice had made it come true.

And here the Unforgiven was, without blemish or spot, to deliver on his end of the covenant.

“Dragon Lord Malice,” the Unforgiven derogatorily noted. His voice roiled like the thunder of the skies. “Not much of a Lord, are we?”

“Freedom Fighter,” Malice retorted. “Not much of a fighter, I see. You aren't even free. Bound down by prophecy.”

“Whatever I do,” the Unforgiven announced, “I do of my own will. All you have is the will of your master.”

“I have all there is,” Malice hissed. “And all that is to come. You, however, will die with the rest of your friends.”

“At least I have friends,” the Unforgiven waved aside, giving no more than a casual shrug at the threat. “You’re alone. Abandoned by both your heavenly parents. That’s a record. You have nothing to do with all that power.”

Malice’s horns glowed sickeningly white. “I can start by killing you!”

“So approach me, foul worm. You can’t kill me all the way over there.” The Unforgiven’s red eyes glinted. “Come as close as you like.”

Malice was wounded, scarred, amputated, and hobbled. But Malice’s signature grin plastered itself onto his face. In some strange, terrible way… Malice was looking forward to it.

Malice would not need to win. All he had to do was buy time.

The abomination of nature hurled himself at the Unforgiven.

The pony easily evaded him and impacted Malice in the chest. Malice curled up and lashed a dozen arms out to strike the Unforgiven. Some caught him across the face or arm or chest, but the wounds they caused were already healing. The Unforgiven responded with a flurry of his own blows. Not all of them landed, but the ones that did made Malice grunt.

Freedom Fighter ended his fusillade by rotating in midair to deliver a pent-up buck into Malice’s lungs. Malice gasped, but managed to grab the rear legs stuck in his chest. Snarling, he curled himself up once more and stuffed Freedom Fighter into the mess of bending, grubby legs he had.

Though Malice’s legs were strong, Freedom Fighter was stronger. After curling himself up as well, he launched himself out of Malice’s grip like he was pushing off the edge of a swimming pool. Before he went too far out, he reversed direction, halted, and fired right back at Malice, who had lunged for him.

Beneath the Unforgiven’s hoof, a bone in his chest snapped like a stick.

Malice gasped and hissed, then opened his needled jaws further and blew a steady stream of flame at the Unforgiven. He had mostly gotten away by then, but his rear legs were caught in the fire, and scorched themselves black almost immediately. Freedom Fighter screamed and clutched his legs as he hovered in the air.

Freedom Fighter and Malice both took a moment to examine their wounds. Malice took the opportunity to speak first.

“You’re doomed,” he proclaimed gently.

“I am?” Freedom asked, somewhat surprised.

“No matter how much you’ll want your pain to end,” Malice pointed out, “you will just regenerate. You won’t die. But you’ll wish you could.”

“Been there,” Freedom Fighter waved aside. But his eyes seemed unsure.

“I tore you apart once before,” Malice said, spreading his arms. “I never thought I’d get to do it all over again. This must be my lucky day!”

Freedom Fighter bellowed in rage, and his sizzling, blackened legs grew themselves over in a few seconds until they appeared good as new once more. Without any further provocation, he rocketed once more at Malice.

---

“Twilight!” came a scratchy voice that she immediately recognized. Twisting her head, Twilight found Rainbow Dash screeching to a halt several meters away from her on the left. Rainbow was panting, her sword arm drooping.

“What’s going on?” Twilight demanded. “Who did you manage to get out?”

“...I found everypony but Fluttershy, Noble, and Firestorm,” Rainbow gasped. “Ah, give me a sec.”

“Well, where are they?” Twilight pressured. “Are they safe?”

“Well… no, not… really.”

“Rainbow, you had one job!”

“Pinkie ordered me to drop her off in the north mountain!” Rainbow protested, gesticulating with Stormkeeper at the appropriate landmark. “She’s gonna help out Rarity and Applejack.”

“Was Pinkie with Tempest and Starlight?”

“Yeah, they’re on the peak.”

“Then come on!” Twilight urged, flapping her wings.

“Wait!” Rainbow yelled, zooming in front of her path with her arms out wide. “Don’t land!”

“But there’s nowhere else to go!” Twilight yelled back, swishing a hoof. “I don’t care if the zone is too hot! My friends are down there!”

“Twilight, please, listen to me! If you want to save the world, don’t go!”

Twilight reared her head in shock. “What?”

“There’s some kind of binding on the Element! If you touch it, Solaris is going to wake up!”

“Fine, then I won’t touch the Element!”

“No, you… you don’t understand,” Rainbow insisted. “Twilight, it’s part of her now. Starlight is dying!”

Twilight’s jaw dropped. Her head soon bowed. “Dying?” she whispered, although Rainbow likely couldn’t hear it over the sounds of battle.

“If you try and stop it,” Rainbow spelled out, a choke in her throat, “we’ll all be doomed. I… Twilight, what are we going to do? Just leave her alone and… let her sacrifice save the world?”

Twilight made no action. It seemed like so many minutes passed in that state of contemplation. The world in the background faded into obscurity, and Twilight’s thoughts were inward.

It couldn’t be! Were they fighting an unwinnable battle? No. No! There had to be something they could do. How could Twilight help others if this was the cost of her choice? Twilight couldn’t just give up. Not now! Not after all they suffered! Leaving Starlight to die without seeing her made her throat close up.

But this was to save the world. What more would Twilight have to sacrifice before it would be over? How much more could be asked of her to save the world?

And the notion hit her. Was this really the first time she had given up hope to the enemy? No. Tirek came to mind. She had given up all the magic in Equestria in exchange for her friends’ safety. And in the process, she had influenced Discord, giving them the final key for victory.

Would this be a similar situation? Perhaps, just maybe, the only way to achieve victory would be to sacrifice everything for the life of their friends. The power of friendship could win in the end! Would Twilight have the faith to see it through? Perhaps… Maybe it was possible. Twilight just didn’t know. How can you know unless you try?

And yet, the thought of Tartarus’s triumph itched her brain. Crackling black fires, hissing devils crawling everywhere like spiders, rivers and oceans of vivid red blood and fire on the rubble of a ruined world, crushed to dust under the heavy hoof of her eternal Father. If things went wrong, she would be the one to blame.

Put plainly, it was the choice between the world or her friends.

The world, or Starlight.

“Rainbow,” Twilight ordered without emotion. “Clear the area of hostiles.”

“...Gotcha,” Rainbow hesitantly acknowledged, giving a limp salute, and, sighing, sped into the distance.

Twilight was fully aware of what could happen. She didn’t know if she could bear it.

White lightning blazed in the sky, connecting one armored dragon to another. Rainbow was doing her job, all right.

Would Twilight be able to do hers?

A tear ran down her cheek.

“Forgive me,” she whispered.

---

It was like a nightmare. Materializing in and out of existence was Firestorm’s furious face, only illuminated by flashes whenever their blades collided. Noble always moved backwards, always gave him ground. To strike Firestorm down would tear Noble in two.

Their blades never met each other’s bodies. They were always deflected into the walls, or the ceiling above their heads, filling the air with the stench of scorched metal and smoke. For Noble Blade and Firestorm knew how each other fought, studied how they worked. They knew each other more deeply than friends, more intimately than even their lovers. Noble Blade and Firestorm were manifestations of the single mind they had once both shared.

But this was not about a battle between good and evil. Only about the damage one side had wrought unto another.

Noble knew he couldn’t stay in this endless tunnel. The only way out was through Firestorm or up. And he couldn’t go through Firestorm. Never.

So as he parried three quick strikes into the walls and ceiling, his horn ignited. Firestorm saw this and lept back, expecting him to fire into him. But Noble instead built up the energy for a second and shot it above his head, tearing through the metal lining of the hall and plowing through rock. Showers of pebbles and dust fell upon him.

Firestorm, evidently realizing his intent to escape, roared and surged right at him. But Noble, who had seen Starlight in action before, coated himself in his own magic and shot himself through the narrow hole he had created.

It was barely large enough for him to squeeze through if he kept his limbs close to his body. His sword trailed below him, warding off Firestorm’s attempt to follow. Even if he tried to, it was far too small for his wings to fit. He’d have to take some time.

Between burrowing through the solid rock and levitating himself and his sword up, Noble could feel his magic deplete quickly. All he had to do was break through!

After what felt like minutes, Noble finally burst from the rock and emerged into the open air like a whale breaching the surface of the water. After pulling himself and his sword out of the hole, he crawled for a few feet, rolled onto his back, and panted for breath.

The sky above was grey, punctuated with vivid constellations of flame and colorful laser fire. To his immediate south was the looming, billowing monolith of Mount Nevermore. Noble’s lungs shriveled at the sight alone.

Every sensation painted the picture of Tartarus. The brimstone and dust filling his nose. The taste of smoke in his mouth. Sharp, black rock scraped his back. His ears picked up the sounds of distant screaming and booms, and there was a deep rumble from the thin, glowing lava river hundreds of meters below.

Still taking deep breaths, Noble shakingly got to all fours. The slope of the mountain was such that he had to reposition himself like a goat. His horn ignited, although Noble hissed as it did, and his sword flew into his hoof.

How far behind would Firestorm be? He was fast. Would he take the carved hole, or emerge elsewhere to get the drop on him? Noble brought his sword in front of him and scanned higher up the slope of the Son. The peak of the smaller mountain was truncated and billowing dust, recently blown apart. Who could have done that?

The ground split apart ahead of him, making Noble stumble. With an almighty orange crack and tremendous blast, the ground erupted in a column of flame, and Noble brought his hoof up to cover his eyes.

Firestorm hovered, not even flapping his wings, in a writhing pillar of blinding orange flame. It was certainly a break from the oppressive blackness all around. Noble couldn’t look away.

Firestorm said nothing. He just brought his swords down.

Noble Blade always gave ground on every successive strike. Flashes and fans of orange and blue enveloped them both until it looked like they were in a bubble of color. By themselves, Firestorm’s swords could not meet Noble’s head-on, but they could also strike in two different directions, and Noble found himself always swirling his sword to meet a thrust that could skewer him. It meant there was no opportunity for offense.

The slant of the mountain made it hard for Noble to find good footing. His stance was always wavering, never steady. The back of his knees ached, like razor blades were pressed into them.

Firestorm was always several feet above him, not even needing to touch the ground. Noble was already weak, but Firestorm just grew strength from the fires swirling on his skin. The longer it went on, the worse their conditions seemed to get.

Noble saw no way for him to win.

And truth be told, he didn’t want to. But he didn’t want to die, either.

Firestorm flipped right over him, and as he did, the tip of his swords flashed down, nicking his ear and creating a narrow gash along his scalp. Noble gasped and swung wildly backwards, momentarily forgetting that Firestorm didn’t technically have to land. Firestorm hovered in the air as Noble turned to face him once more.

Noble’s horn charged up, and he fired a few experimental shots at the pegasus. Firestorm deftly evaded all of them, even callously deflecting one bolt back into the surface.

“Let’s see how much of a unicorn you really are!” Firestorm yelled. Bringing an arm back, he immediately hurled that sword at Noble.

It was aimed at his horn. Noble’s own sword managed to deflect it, and it went skittering across the surface of the mountain.

“Storm!” Noble yelled. “Stop! I don’t want to fight you!”

“But I do!” Firestorm screamed, brandishing his other sword. He shot like a loosed arrow into Noble Blade, and the two of them went sprawling. Noble felt his huge sword get knocked out of his hoof.

His free hooves were now the only things keeping Firestorm from using his remaining sword to cut his throat. Both of them were shaking with effort and staring each other dead in the face. Firestorm roared, only inches away, and Noble did the same. Then he lurched his head forward, scraping his horn against the side of Firestorm’s head. A line of blood opened up and began to leak down his cheek.

Enraged, Firestorm adjusted the slope of his sword so it wasn’t going into Noble’s trachea, but instead into the bony material of his horn. It embedded itself with a dull thud, and Noble felt a paralyzing tremor run through him. It was as if he had been struck by lightning, or hit his funny bone. Needles ran down his veins, and his mouth was involuntarily open in shock.

His hooves gripped the sharp edge of Firestorm’s sword and tried to push back. He felt his skin slice open. Thick blood ran down his arms.

Firestorm pushed as hard as he could in response. His face was narrow in rage with the effort he needed, and a labored exhale came through his nose.

Noble, thinking desperately, kicked his rear legs up so they hit Firestorm in the butt, and he went somersaulting over Noble’s head, taking his sword with him. Firestorm slid down the deep slope of the Son for a few more feet, but Noble only needed a few feet.

Gasping while igniting his horn, Noble tried to summon his father’s sword, but the pain surging from his injured horn made him scream, and a spark or two came out of the cut. The sword tumbled in midair, and Noble only barely caught the edge of the sword before Firestorm was already up, delivering a mighty kick to Noble’s chin that chomped his teeth together and sent him tumbling.

Noble rolled down the rocky black mountain, clutching his father’s sword for dear life. Eventually, friction compelled him to stop. His legs were apart in order to maintain balance while he hesitantly stood up.

Firestorm was rocketing at him, his fiery sword out and to the side.

Noble couldn’t leap aside. He had to face him head-on.

He abruptly brought his sword up.

Squish.

The world screeched to a halt.

Noble’s heart froze up and shattered. His hooves trembled, gripping the hilt too tightly. On the other end of the sword was Firestorm, the dripping tip emerging from his back. They took each other in before looking down, their shock equal at what happened.

Firestorm’s arms drooped down, and his fiery sword tumbled out and extinguished. Noble’s sword drooped as well, making Firestorm lean back, slide out, and collapse on the sloping rock.

Noble tossed his priceless blue sword to the side, his only source of power, and instead rushed to his brother, picking up his head and resting it on his legs. “No,” he choked. “Storm!”

Firestorm grunted in pain, staring up into Noble’s face. At first, Firestorm’s vivid yellow eyes were beetled in fury. Then, as Noble held him tighter, Firestorm’s eyes softened. His mouth was slightly open as he did his best to comprehend the implications of what Noble was choosing to do with his dying body.

Noble adjusted him in his arms, putting pressure on the mortal wound in his chest. “I can still save you!” he whispered, tugging at the skin around Firestorm’s chest. “Please, Faust, help me save him!”

“What…” Firestorm breathed. “Why are you…”

Noble’s eyes turned back to Firestorm’s. They were both wet, their mouths trembling.

“You know why,” Noble said simply, and a tear fell, landing on Firestorm’s chin.

The dying pegasus’ eyes widened. “You mean…”

Noble nodded. His throat hurt.

Firestorm’s wide eyes wavered and shut. Tears of his own leaked out, down the sides of his head. A cry of anguish escaped his lips, and he threw his head back in frustration. “I’m a fool!”

“No,” Noble was quick to say. “You were tricked. That means you’re a good pony. Okay? You’re a good pony. I’ll try to patch this up. You’ll be okay!”

Firestorm wheezed before spitting out a hyperventilating breath. “I don’t want to go to hell! I don’t want... I can’t... live with…”

“No, no,” Noble refused. “You deserve to live. I want you to live! Don’t go! You can’t!”

Firestorm’s arms reached up, and Noble bowed his head so Firestorm could grip him closer.

“I’m scared,” Firestorm whimpered.

And it chilled Noble to the bone. The fire around him could not unfreeze his senses.

“S...stop it,” Noble whispered, caressing his cheek. “You’re brave, Firestorm. You’re the first of us to… find out what lies beyond. Alone.”

Firestorm’s eyes relaxed with every dwindling breath. “Not… alone…”

His chest deflated. And never rose again.

Noble’s lips tremored, and when they parted, they let out a squeak. “Storm?”

Firestorm’s arms fell. He was tense everywhere else.

“No, no!” Noble exclaimed. His hooves ran over the wound, but there was no reaction on Firestorm’s face. “NO, STORM! PLEASE!”

Firestorm’s empty yellow eyes were staring blankly upward. The last thing he ever saw was the black sky of hell.

“YOU CAN’T!” Noble screamed, and his tears dripped as if from an open wound. “I… no...” Noble adjusted the body--the body. “NO!”

He buried his eyes into Firestorm’s dirtied mane. He rocked the silent Firestorm back and forth like a newborn, but Noble was the one wailing in despair.

Hell thundered everywhere.

Comments

[BradyBunch]

10891632
Thank you for the kind words. I'm very proud of the result. I intend to keep going until it is done.