• Published 13th Dec 2011
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The Ambassador's Son - Midnightshadow



A colt loses his family, Celestia deems his best hope lies not with ponies, but a dragon.

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The Echoes of History

The ══════════
Ambassador's
══════════ Son

Chapter Twenty-Two
The Echoes of History
An MLP:FiM Fanfiction by Midnight Shadow


Carmine and Beth burst in through the front door of the library, screaming and hollering. The diamond dogs inside turned to attack, which was when Thorn, Butch and his crew burst through the floor. Butch howled and flexed his claws, Digger and Dozer both cracked their knuckles and the griffons screeched a battle-cry. Nobody looked like backing down, the growling and spitting between the two sides grew progressively louder, until a monumental crash sent splinters of glass cascading into the open atrium. Instinctively, everybody looked up, and ducked. Two equine forms had exploded through the upper story windows, protected by a bright lavender glow from Bella's horn. They bucked off the far walls and landed in the middle of Butch and company.

"Hey Butch," Bella head-butted the diamond dog until he turned to look at her. She grinned, "fancy a game of piñata dog?"

♦♦♦

Sharptooth roared as he swept low over Tacksworn. He inhaled, threw his head forwards on his long, sinuous neck and exhaled burning liquid death over a pack of invading diamond dogs. Their screams were short but agonizing, and as he passed and the flames extinguished there was nothing but glass and dust. Landing heavily, his tail slammed through another group, and their lives ended embedded in the walls of a building, or sometimes splashed across it. His wings spread wide, the draconic battle-cry reverberated from the mountains, and the invaders turned to flee, scrambling over themselves in their haste.

He didn't let many of them get far, not if they were in reach of his talons. They were quickly learning that attacking Tacksworn had been a big mistake, and for many it was the last mistake they would ever make.

Almost before the echoes of Sharptooth's bellowing roar had died down, they were answered with a cacophony of ear-splitting screeches. The griffons had arrived, bedecked in chain-mail and fitted with wing-blades, most also bearing pikes, maces and morning stars. They too harried the now-fleeing diamond dog packs as they fled over ground. From below, the town's allotment of native diamond dogs snapped and snarled.

Sharptooth looked through the carnage in motion, glassy eyes unseeing as he pondered. Bending to tear the head from one hapless invader, his muzzle ran crimson as he spat. The mostly-spherical skull bounced to a halt, the ears of the troll twitching as the life finally left him, the silent howl of pain unheard as it left bloodied lips. Sharptooth bent his head again, peering intently at the carcass gripped in his powerful claws. Methodically shredding the clothing, he pored over it. The shoulder; something caught his attention. Summoning a ball of mage-light, he peered closer. A design, four diamond-like objects with a sigil any dragon would recognize in the center. A blast of violet flame left nothing but dust as Sharptooth cleaned his claws. Now, now he was really angry.

♦♦♦

"Piñata dog?" laughed Carmine, raising her crest feathers.

"It's my new favourite game." Bella answered, prancing around the mezzanine deck as she scouted for intruders.

Penny nickered, nodding her head. She leaped up and put her hooves over the railings, red flowing mane falling down between her hooves, "You should've seen her earlier! She jumped right out of the carriage and onto a burning building, and then hustled the earth ponies down. Then those diamond dogs attacked and she was like foom!" the filly jumped over the fence, fluttering down to land on the atrium floor before carrying on, "and they were all flapping like chickens. You should'a seen their faces!"

"So," Bella picked her claws, "anybody found anything?"

Ruff hurriedly put down the copy of Daring Do and the Griffons Goblet he was thumbing through, grinning weakly.

"Guys, I... I think I got something," Carmine said.

"What?" Beth squawked.

Carmine just pointed.

"Oh." Beth followed the claw, and looked at the walls. It was a fresco, painted right around the library's atrium, right on the walls. The story of Tacksworn, from its founding to the building of the library itself. The settler ponies' arrival, the first shanty-town dwellings, the appearance of the griffons, the diamond dogs, and finally the dragons.

Everybody knew the story of Tacksworn, site of the Pax Equestrus; long forgotten by the rest of Equestria, it had been at Tacksworn, a little-known town in the middle of nowhere and everywhere, that a lasting peace had been brokered between the four nations. The peace, against all odds, had lasted until the present day. It was to this backwoods, oft-forgotten town that the draconic ambassador had been posted. With powerful wings and magic, Sharptooth could be anywhere in Equestria in short order, and the isolation had obviously suited him.

Finding him on the walls in the old library was still a shock, however. It had to have been hundreds of years ago, Carmine marvelled, when the events in the picture occured. "How old is our school house anyway?" Carmine wondered idly.

"Don't ask me, maybe they rebuilt it... but I recognize what he's hoofing over," Bella stated.

Carmine squawked in surprise as realization dawned. There before them, where anybody could have seen it but nobody had, was the answer. The rug, the huge woven rug that they had spent so many days clambering over in lessons, was the missing map of Equestria. Even here, in painted likeness on the wall, the detail was incredible. More of Equestria mapped than probably ever before or since, untold secret locations, lost treasures and hidden cities... and it'd been under their collective noses the whole time.

"that's our map! The one we have lessons on!" Bella shouted, "We've gotta get back to the school!"

♦♦♦

Sharptooth lumbered towards the school, where a glowing shield surrounded the old wooden building. "What did you do, Swift?" He threw a bloody, matted lump of fur to the ground in front of the blue dragon.

The hunched figure stretched, flexing his claws as he sought a weakness in the forcefield, "Good evening, Sharpie. I'll say it now, I'm surprised it took you this long to get here."

Sharptooth growled, smoke rising from his nostrils as he regarded the blue dragon more often known as Lord Sapphire, "This building is protected, Lord Sapphire. It holds nothing for you."

The blue dragon hissed, "Lies! What would you know of what it holds? You foolish pony-loving sop, this building holds the key to domination of an entire nation, the entire realm!"

Sharptooth shook his head, "If you had but asked, I would have shared my map with you. Now though, now when you take my son from me..."

"I gave him to you, Sharptooth. So I took the whelp away, so what. He was nothing."

"He was my son!" Sharptooth snarled, leaping for the other dragon, claws outstretched. He collided with the other dragon, rolling over and over in a ball of teeth and spikes. Sharptooth fastened his maw on the back of Swiftwing's neck, ripping out scales. The azure dragon roared in pain and twisted, slashing at Sharptooth's face, his claw catching the dragon's eye ridge and ripping at the soft hide. It was Sharptooth's turn to roar in pain as they parted, panting.

"You didn't even enslave them! You branded them!" Sharptooth hissed.

"I needn't sully my soul with their taint, old friend. Why all this effort to protect a bunch of useless walking snacks?" Swiftwing spat a tooth out.

"You never did understand ponies, or what they stood for. You've never understood knowledge, either. You hoard it, like gold. Knowledge is useless unless shared, Swift. I share my knowledge with these creatures and they repay me a thousand times over. You've never understood that, you never will."

"And so you throw your lot in with these pathetic creatures. You're no dragon."

"I am Lord Diamond, Swiftwing, watch your tongue or you will lose it."

"We shall see, Sharpie, we shall see."

"Have at it, then. We shall battle. To the death."

"So be it."

The battle-cries dragons echoed across the town and on into the night.

♦♦♦

"There's still time!"

Chip leaped over the last train car and tumbled down the pile of coal until he rolled into the cab. Runt was stuck in the hatch that led to the underside. Chip winced as coal sprayed across his backside, Hairpin had landed at a dead flap.

"Master! We've gotta get out of here! The whole thing's gonna-" She never got to finish, as the train lurched suddenly. An ominous rumbling that started low, vibrating in the bones somewhere below hearing, grew and grew. The train was pitching. Chip grabbed the small dragon in his teeth and yanked. Runt came flying up out of the hole.

Runt grabbed onto Chip's mane as gravity took hold of the cab and yanked it downwards, "Run you fools!"

"No time!" Chip shouted, "Hairpin, get clear! Me an Runt'll be okay, but you'll be cooked. Come and get us!" And his muzzle clamped over the emergency release valve.

Hairpin hissed, leaping out of the cab and fluttering clear as she watched the train begin its terminal descent into the rocky ravine so very far below. She dived down as a billow of steam enveloped the cab, the crumbling pillars of the viaduct, and her body in hot, sticky clouds.

Down below, there was the horrendous sound of screeching metal as thundering bricks piled up upon the locomotive, burying it and the cargo. Dodging rocks and falling metal, Hairpin dived to rescue her benefactor, if it wasn't already too late.

Chip opened his eyes.

White. Nothing but endless, silent white.

Am I dead? He thought to himself. No, no, he wasn't dead. He was pretty sure that dead dragons didn't ache quite so much, especially not in the tail.

Now that his senses were returning, he became aware of not only the biting pain in his tail, but the ringing in his ears and a soreness in his head... and he was pretty sure that he was upside down, swaying to and fro. A grey shape trotted up to him, yellow mane tangled and wild. Hairpin. She was mouthing words at him. No, Chip realised, she was talking to him. He just couldn't hear anything. She eased herself under him, and the pain in his tail eased up. Moments later, a smallish winged shape fluttered down to land on his rump. It was Runt, looking relatively pleased with himself, but somewhat the worse for wear.

Chip's memories can back in a rush.

"Master? You with us?"

Chip shook his head, the last of the ringing subsiding, "Hairpin?"

"That's my name, don't wear it out."

"You... you okay?"

"I think so."

"My saddle bags?"

"Still full."

"Am I okay?"

"Just keep a good grip with those strong legs of yours. Most stallions work out how to do it after a few tries."

Chip had the decency to blush, causing Hairpin to laugh. He was perched on her back in a rather intimate position with his forelegs draped across her withers and his hind legs around her haunches. Her wings were furled and she seemed to just be standing still. Chip still had the feeling they were moving, however.

"That was pretty clever of you, boss." Runt said, "never would've thought of this."

"That's because dragons can't cloudwalk. Ponies, pegasi, can. When you grow up a pony, a few things stick in your head."

They broke through into sunlight, with all of Equestria spread out before them. The steam and smoke had risen. Apparently something in the train had exploded; maybe a package, maybe something in whatever had brought the viaduct down. Whatever it was, it was down there, whilst they were up here.

"Wow," Runt said, "I'm... not that good a flyer yet. I don't get to see views like these every day."

"Me neither," said Chip.

"First things first, where to? Canterlot? I mean, we've gotta tell Celestia, right?" Runt's ears perked up.

"Nuh-uh," Chip said, "We're not going to Canterlot, we don't have time to faff about trying to get an audience."

"Where then?" the smaller dragon asked.

"I've got to get to Tacksworn, pronto!"

"If you think I'm flying all that way with you two-" Hairpin began.

Chip shook his head, "Uh-uh, Ponyville."

"But that's... I've got to get to the tender!" Runt complained.

Chip shook his head, "Until I'm in Tacksworn, you're with us. We're going to Ponyville. And that's final."

"Yes, Master!" Hairpin stretched, and then set off at a brisk, bouncing trot across the carpet of clouds, heading almost due South.

"Oh I hope Biscuit's not too worried about me." Runt added forlornly.

♦♦♦

Spike yawned, and turned over in his cot. Twilight was out for the day. He wasn't sure where, off on another adventure with her friends. Something about seaponies, apparently. He didn't mind being left alone, it was only when she wasn't being stressed about ancient magics and doomsday prophecies that he could get any sleep.

Life, of course, had other plans in mind. There was a loud, insistent knocking on the door.

"Grrrr-rraaghhh! Fine! I'm coming! I'm coming!"

The little dragon threw his blankie off, hid the stuffed bear under his pillow and then stormed down the stairs to the front room of the library. He opened the door, "What?!" he demanded, glaring up at a three-headed pony. "Wha-ha-haa!"

"Hey Spike!" one of the heads said.

Spike blinked, repeatedly, until he realized that it wasn't a three headed pony at all. "Chip? What in Equestria are you doing here?"

"I kinda need your help... Spike, meet Hairpin. Hairpin, Spike. Spike, Runt. Runt, Spike. And I'm Chip."

Spike looked up at Chip, who was grinning, "You got me grounded last time! For like forever!"

"Worth it though, right?" Chip looked worried.

"Sure was! Whaddaya need?" Spike punched Chip in the withers.

♦♦♦

Mister Davenport's heart fluttered, he staggered slightly and had to sit down on his rump, "You... you want to buy a sofa? LIke, a whole sofa?"

Spike looked back at Chip, who nodded, "Yeah, I... I guess I do."

Davenport sniffed, "Well let me see what I have in stock..."

A few minutes later, Chip and Spike were walking around a plush little two-seater gem with integrated thaumatic heating elements and water-resistant coating for extra protection during those muddy autumn days.

"This is... all you've got in stock?" Spike whimpered, looking at the price tag.

"Well, I've got the executive model-"

"But you only sell two things!"

"Take it or leave it." Mister Davenport smiled the smile of a pony who knows a done deal when they see one, "it also has..." He manipulated a lever on the side, and the sofa extended backwards, "full reclining action, for a really comfortable seating experience."

"Fine..." Spike sighed, waving a paw dismissively, "do you take cash or credit?"

"Cash. Cold hard bits." Mister Davenport grinned.

Spike sighed, "I thought you might say that."

"But for you, I'll give you a discount. Say ten percent?"

Some huffing and puffing later, with everybody wishing at least one of them had been a unicorn, the sofa was installed in the library, and Runt and Hairpin were installed on top of it.

"I don't understand though, why do we need a sofa?"

"We don't," Chip replied, "we just need the box."

Spike face-pawed, "You realize he might have given us a box for free, right?"

Chip head-tilted, "Didn't think of that."

"Why do we need a box, anyway?" the little purple dragon asked.

"Well, I've got to get a package to Tacksworn really quick."

Spike looked from Chip to the box and back, "Oh, no, no, no..."

"Come on! You can do it!"

"He can do what?" Hairpin asked, looking at Runt inquisitively.

"You're crazy!" Runt said, jumping up and half-spreading his wings, "You're going to post him?!"

"What? Can you... you even do that?" Hairpin pricked her ears up, looking back at Chip.

"I... I don't know!" Spike exclaimed, "I mean accidentally, sure, but... you're pretty big..."

"I've got a fire-ruby," Chip said, ears perking up in a grin.

"...And I can only post things to Celestia."

Chip leaned closer, "I think I can fix that, too. What is it of hers you have?"

"What? I... I don't know what you mean." Spike blushed, wringing his paws together.

"It's familiar magic, isn't it? You've got something of hers, so you can use that to post things to her, right?"

"Maybe." Spike grit his jaw, plumes of smoke rising out of his nostrils, "So what if I do?"

"Well," Chip turned his head to his saddle-bags, pulling them off with a clatter, "I've got this." Chip routed around in the pile of belongings as he opened both saddlebags, their contents spilling out into the library, and he pulled out a small black square of cloth.

"That-"

"Belongs to my dad, Sharptooth. Can you use it?"

Spike took a deep breath, looking down at the fire-ruby, which he picked up in one paw, and the black square of velvet that he held in the other. Sizing up the box and Chip, he sighed, "If this doesn't work..."

"I'll just end up with Celestia, I hope, in which case I'll tell her everything anyway."

The fire-ruby shattered easily as Chip struck it with a metal-clad hoof. He picked up a sizeable piece for himself, and hoofed the others over to Spike.

"Ready?" Spike asked.

"As ever." Chip replied. He clambered into the box, which had been turned on it's side. His draconic armour clinked and clanked loudly as he squeezed into the relatively small space. Adjusting the borrowed neck-bag until he was comfortable, he nodded at Spike, and closed his eyes.

Spike mumbled to himself, "Oh Celestia, what am I getting myself into?" before he popped the shards of fire-ruby into his muzzle, and chewed. Eyes watering, he hiccuped, then took a deep breath. And then he exhaled.

♦♦♦

There are not enough words in the Equestrian language, Chip thought to himself as the world reformed around him, to describe pain. The heat had been intense, saturating his entire body and tearing him apart into billions of particles of black ash. It ripped, it tore, it shredded him, and it kept on burning for an eternity of agony as the particles threaded him through space as barely-living weft, weaving a tapestry of torture.

He came to, screaming, every movement a grizzly reminder of that brief trip through some dark hell he never wished to visit again. The room was dimly lit with flickering flames, strange bipedal creatures sifting and sorting through his belongings. Fury boiled up in him and he bellowed his agony out, filling the room with his presence. They turned, of course, at the flash of red and green, and attacked - but Chip was more than ready to share his pain. He screamed as he battered with fore and hind hooves, cleaving into his foes as if they were no more than paper. He screamed as his tail flashed, slashing open belly and throat alike as their bodies were flung through the air to land in crumpled heaps that merely leaked instead of moved. Finally the room was empty of life, save for Chip, and he fell to the floor and wept.

After a time, he opened his eyes. He hurt, but he was alive. He staggered to his hooves and wiped one foreleg across his muzzle. His hoof came back red with blood, none of it his. He staggered down the corridor deeper into the cave. This was his cave, now. He had to make sure it was secure. It was his duty, an almost sacred task. Leaning against the walls for support, huffing and puffing like bellows, he gradually made his way to the hoard. The great petrified stonewood door opened at his touch, and closed behind him. He bid the torches light, and their flickering mageflame showed the room to be untouched, unsullied.

Chip was tired, so very, very tired. He fell to his knees to rest, but shook his head. He couldn't stop, he had to push on. Easing himself forwards with only his hind legs, sliding across the floor weakly, his poll came to rest up against a pedestal. On that pedestal was a single, cracked eggshell, with a piece missing. He toppled the pedestal with a well-placed kick, shattering the egg. Picking up a sizeable piece with his teeth, he ate slowly but steadily.

Almost immediately, fire burned in his veins and his head cleared and he rose to all four hooves once more. Breathing heavily, but easily, he assessed the situation. There had been intruders, they had been dealt with. Nobody had penetrated the hoard, and it was unlikely more would be coming. If Sharptooth wasn't present, then he was down in Tacksworn proper - and so that was where Chip must go. Glancing around the hoard one last time, he spotted a recent addition. He'd only seen it last as a mere foal's drawing, had not imagined he could be seeing it so soon, but a flying device stood there before him, affixed to a workbench. His wings, made of gleaming metal and gossamer fabric, pistons and gears pristine and waiting. If he was to return to Tacksworn, it would be as a dragon does.

Casting his eyes about once more, his gaze came to rest on another piece of draconic armour. The fit, as he forced his head into it, was awkward, but it would stay on. A single horn adorned the helmet, like a unicorn's, with barding that covered his forehead and cheeks. He had given his own set's head garment to Sunshine, and his chest-barding to Silver Chalice. With another piece of 'insurance' he felt ready to do battle, and this time it would be as a full dragon. First the flying pack, then the flames.

Chip stood on the ledge, looking down into the night. Tacksworn was burning, he could hear shouting and sounds of fighting even here. He grit his teeth and snarled, pawwing the ground. This was his town, sort of. True, he hadn't lived here long, but by the first egg he wasn't going to let it be destroyed. The wings had proven awkward to maneuver, the straps had taken time to adjust and, truth be told, he had no idea if it would all actually work. He would just have to trust it; running down the mountain path at night would be suicide, and there was no way he was going to stay up out of reach and let his friends get hurt.

He pulled off the neck-bag and emptied it, shards of the fire-ruby fell to the ground. He gathered them up with his lips and chewed them, feeling their burn drip down his throat, almost scalding him. Tears sprang to his eyes, but flames roared up out of his belly.

He was ready, but the moment called for something. He closed his eyes, feeling in his gut that bubbling well of heat that Sharptooth had taught him about. It wasn't fury this time, nor anger, just cold, hard determination. It filled him, it felt like it flowed throughout his entire body, even through to his mechanical wings. He dimly perceived them, as if Sharptooth had worked some magic into them. Maybe he had. Chip pawwed at the ground with his hooves, one after another, feeling the wings flap. He gripped that heat with his mind, felt it flicker and burst into life, felt it bubble up out of his chest until he was surprised that the ledge itself wasn't on fire, and then he roared. Taking a short few steps back, he galloped off the edge into the night.

♦♦♦

Sharptooth slammed into the ground heavily, twisting his wing. The membrane was shredded, but the joint was intact. He rolled, catching the leaping Swiftwing with all four claws. He bit at the blue dragon's throat and whipped his head back, pulling a sizeable chunk out of his opponent's flesh. His name was not 'Sharptooth' for nothing, but then 'Swiftwing' was equally aptly monikered. The blue dragon sliced his wing-claw across Sharptooth's chest, catching the green dragon on his foreclaws. Sharptooth hissed and growled, throwing the blue dragon off. He leaped to his hindlegs and swung his tail, spikes barely puncturing Swiftwing's leathery backhide.

In response, the blue dragon bathed Sharptooth in hot, blue flame and then drove his head into his enemy's gut. Sharptooth's breath whooshed out his maw as the green dragon was flung backwards. In moments, Swiftwing was upon him, gripping the green dragon in a rough choke hold. The blue dragon sank his teeth into Sharptooth's shoulder, snapping and snarling, blood flowing freely from the wound. Sharptooth wrapped his tail around Swiftwing's neck and pulled. Bones snapped, but the deathgrip was broken. They flailed together, rolling, cursing, roaring, bellowing and swiping.

When dragons fight, it is for two things - for dominance, or for war. Neither would now back down, death would be the final arbiter.

Sharptooth snarled, claws digging in to Swiftwing's back as he sought to rend and tear at his opponent's throat. Lord Sapphire for his part dug claws in to Sharptooth's ribs, causing the green dragon to howl.

The roaring bellow of an attacking dragon rent the night.

♦♦♦

Chip sailed through the air, whooping with joy. He'd almost died in the first few moments, but then... everything had just started to make sense. The wings were clumsy, he had almost zero lift, and he really had no idea how to land them, but they worked!

He galloped through low-flying clouds, blasting them apart into less than vapour. The town was coming up before him, now, and he awkwardly tried to circle it. A stray gust of wind almost sent him tumbling again, but he regained control in time to spot what looked like two dragons fighting outside the school building. The building itself was covered in a strange bubble-like glowing field of energy, and the dragons were lit up by it's ethereal glow. As he swooped lower and lower, he saw they were Sharptooth and that other dragon lord, Lord Sapphire or something. They weren't just fighting, they were out to kill each other!

"Sharptooth! No! Get away from my dad!" Chip inhaled and then roared, sending a huge belch of flame down towards the fighting pair. Chip lowered his head, and lost more height. Chip's wings faltered, he was losing speed and his burst of flame had temporarily blinded him, setting fire to what flammable parts there were. His flight suit was done for, but It wouldn't matter, nobody was going to hurt his dad! He lowered his head, long sharp horn gleaming in the magelight, and dropped.

Sharptooth twisted in his opponent's grip, snarling and gouging, but could not get free. Lord Sapphire laughed deeply and then bent his head in for the kill.

At the roar of another dragon, however, he lifted his head, blinking in confusion.

Sharptooth twisted free as the burning winged demon fell out of the skies and slammed into the blue dragon's unprotected belly-hide, tearing Sharptooth from his grasp, flinging the pony's own body free of his helmet to crash against the forcefield, where Chip collapsed in a heap of broken tubes, twisted metal and ripped cloth.

The world held its breath.

"Swiftwing!" Sharptooth gasped, eyes wide.

Lord Sapphire blinked, coughing, "I... I would have won."

Sharptooth cradled his foe's head in his foreclaws, "Shh, be calm." He fingered the helmet embedded in the chest of his friend, a mortal wound, deep and true, speared through the soft, unprotected underbelly of his erstwhile foe.

The blue dragon coughed, flecks of blood dripping down his muzzle, "Can... can I see it? Just once?"

Sharptooth nodded, then turned, and brought the forcefield down. It shattered in a tinkling rain of a myriad motes of light.

Chip slumped into a heap, groaning. "Dad?"

"Chip, lad," Sharptooth said softly, "are you whole?"

"I... I think so. Is it... are you safe?"

"Aye, lad. Could you... could you do me a favour?"

"What?" Chip stood up, the wreck of his mangled flying suit falling off him in pieces. He shook himself out of it, shaking his head to clear it.

"Please go inside, fetch the rug you use in geography lessons."

Chip's eyes went wide, "That... that's it? That's what all this has been about? M-my parents died for a rug?" Chip glared at Lord Sapphire, who chuckled weakly.

"Now is not the time, young dragon. Fetch it for me, please?"

Chip snorted, and trotted inside, the barricades meaning as much to him as gossamer threads of spiderweb. He returned, the children inside tentatively following him, flanked by nervous teachers, with the rug in his muzzle. He dragged it through the dirt and threw it to the ground in front of the other two dragons.

"There. Much good may it do you."

Lord Sapphire looked at it, and started to cry.

"Swift?"

Breathlessly, with a bubbling voice, clearly in pain, the dragon answered, "It's... the wrong... map." he turned away, unable to look at his failure. "All this, and... I wasn't even killed... by a dragon." His sobs subsided, his eyes closed, and his chest rose and fell one last time, and then it was still.

Very gently, Sharptooth lowered his friend's head to the ground. "You were, Swiftwing." Sharptooth turned eyes wet with tears to his son, "Roar, little one." he whispered, "Roar for me, and for him. Finish it."

Chip inhaled, threw back his head, and bellowed into the night, a plume of flame illuminating the clearing as the townsfolk gathered around. A mournful keening joined it as Sharptooth too lent his breath to the farewell.

As silence once again settled over the scene, what foreign diamond dogs were left fell to their knees, foreheads planted firmly to the ground.

"What are they doing?" Chip hissed.

"Come, Lord Sapphire," Sharptooth said meaningfully, accentuating the last two words as he steadied himself with a claw on Chip's withers, turning his great head to look at his son with a sad look on his muzzle, "it is time to put an end to this."

Chip's eyes widened and he collapsed to his rump, "You have got to be kidding me."

♦♦♦

Carmine and practically fell out of the library when she heard the roaring. The sounds of scuffling and battle rang loud and true, but a dragon roaring dwarfed even that. Her blood ran cold - after life with the few dragons that deigned to make Tacksworn their home sounding off every so often, she had learned to recognize each and every one. This... this was something new. Someone new. It was met and echoed by another bellow, a throaty expulsion that raised her head-feathers. Sharptooth.

"Guys! Guys now!" She bolted from the library and lumbered into the skies, wings not even half-spread before she attempted take-off. Beth followed her, with Penny not far behind. Bella stuck close to the diamond dogs as they gained speed across the dusty, wreckage-strewn streets. They ran easily on long, thick forearms, much as she galloped, and she marvelled again at their physical prowess. As they started to draw ahead, she wished she'd paid more attention in teleportation class. She daren't use another slow-fall spell, in the flickering torch-lit semi-darkness, the loss of control could be deadly. A sweaty sheen built up on her body, but it would not be far to go.

Carmine screamed her battle-cry, answered by Beth, as they came upon the school. A strange, glowing shield surrounded it, and two fierce-looking creatures were ripping and snarling at each other. One of them was Sharptooth... and the other one she recognized too.

"That's that Lord Sapphire!" Carmine shouted above the wind.

"Who?"

"The dragon from the fair that packed up last week! The one that jumped us after... after those diamond dogs. Shells! Bloody shells and shards I was dumb! It was him! We've gotta..."

"We've got to what C?! You'll get killed! The only thing that has a hope down there is-"

"Dragon!" Carmine squawked, rolling to the side as a large, firey winged shape sped past. Adrenaline kicked in as the presence enveloped her, it was roaring like a nightmare and venting flame like a mobile volcano... and the tattered mechanical wings were on fire.

"It... it can't be! That's..."

Carmine shouted and whooped with glee as she realized what was happening, "B! We're okay! That's Chip!"

Bella rolled in the air and circled to hover next to Carmine, "Are you-"

"Cracked eggs!" Carmine swore, "Chip! Buck me to the middle of next week! Chip!"

Carmine swooped and dived to pull up running just ahead of the diamond dogs and Bella. She winced as she heard the crushing clatter of protesting metal, and the very meaty thunk of Chip impacting with the blue dragon. He rolled, he rolled and he rolled, and came to a stop...

"Chip?" Carmine whispered, pulling up short. The whole town, it seemed, was waiting.

Chip stirred, and he approached Sharptooth. In the firelight, Carmine could see, with her eagle eyes, how the older dragon was distraught. A few low words, and Chip galloped into the school, the shield dispersing as if it were nothing but a soap-bubble, and he came out again with the school's rug.

There, in the dark and the growing cold, she watched Lord Sapphire die. As the light went out of his eyes, she shuddered. The keening that followed raised hackles she barely knew she had, and finally Chip turned. And saw Carmine.

He stood there; singed, limping, cut, bleeding, flames flickering around his muzzle - but proud and tall. Hesitantly, Carmine stepped forward.

Chip looked up, as a group of ponies, diamond dogs and two griffons came closer. He held his breath now... but couldn't help himself.

"Car... Carmine? Carmine!" He galloped from his father, shedding what broken machinery remained, to entwine his neck and head with hers in a fierce pony-shaped dragon hug.

Carmine felt wet drops on her back and fluffed up, wiping her beak with a claw, "Shu-shush you dweeb. You'll make me look like I missed you or something."

"I missed you too, Carmine." Chip whispered, hugging her all the more fiercely.

"I missed you too, Chip. Welcome home."

♦♦♦