Wyrd: A Tale of Pony and Man

by Ek Vitki

Heroes of Old

The old man and the young mare settled once more at the little cafe, the awning shielding them from the midday sun. Today he had chosen a mixture of berries and apples, while she had her usual dandelions.

“Ya’ know Mornin’ Star, it’s been ‘bout three hundred years since we all came here to Equestria.” Rederik said after popping a raspberry into his mouth.

“Oh I know, men live awfully long!” She piped up after taking a bite of her sandwich.

The old man brought a hand to his chin, stroking the grey stubble thoughtfully, “We weren’t meant to live this long. I shoulda’ died two and a half lifetimes ago. I remember Twilight Sparkle telling me ‘bout this thing called, er, what was it,” Rederik Scratched his head, then bounced in triumph, “Ah yes, ambient energies! Incredible stuff.”

Morning tilted her head at the man, “You mean the background magical signature of the world?“

He nodded, “Aye, that stuff. It made us stronger, tougher, faster, so much better than what we were before...” Rederik swallowed, his eyes glazing over momentarily. “Anyway, back to the story, eh?”

-----

The journey continued on, out of those blasted lands. We don’t know what happened to the soldiers of Roma, but we were far enough away now and into these woods to really care. The forest itself was more swampy, really. Plenty of pools filled with fetid water that stinked of rot dotted the area, with their share of mosquitos and biting flies. I would’ve picked a better place, but we didn’t have much choice.

I plowed on through the mess with the rest of the survivors, sticking close to Ulrich and his family. The man positively radiated wellness, a sort of upbeat determination oozed from him and infected all of us.

We survived, and we will thrive in this new place. That’s what we all thought.

We trudged on through the mud, the sticky substance tugging at our boots and legs and leeching the heat from our bodies. It was a dramatic change from the dry, sun-blasted badlands, to this cool and damp nuisance we found ourselves in.

I could hear the men talking ahead of us. They spoke of where we would go, and the general consensus was north. I looked up at the sun breaking through the canopy, tracing its movement and guessing the direction we were headed. It was still halfway to the zenith, with the morning relatively young. I hoped north would bring me a dry place to sit, that muck was dreadful.

“How you doin’, lad?” Ulrich spoke up, jerking me from my thoughts.

A slimy, serpentine form rose out of the water, the sunlight shining green off of its surface. The thing was easily as long as 20 men are tall and as wide as a rowboat, with overlapping scales that shone with the color of the algae on the surface of the water. Its vast head swiveled to look at us, with large eyes like perfectly cut crystals blinking away the muck that clung to its lids. A mouth with many rows of small, dagger-like teeth opened, emitting a blast of acrid and hot air that rushed over us. Many stumbled back, while some men rushed forward to put themselves between us and the beast.

The massive jaws closed, a thin tongue snaking out to lick its lips clean. Then it’s gaze focused on us, moving from person to person.

It hummed, its nostrils flaring and its great green eyes glowing with fascination, “What... What have we here? I’ve never seen your likes before in this swamp... little walkers.”

The beast’s voice was like the thunder before a summer storm, carrying with it a warm moistness in the air. We all stood in a silent awe at the creature before us. It was a dragon, a real dragon. The fact that I was not resting in this beast’s belly was surprising, I had expected the lot of us to be devoured by now. No, it spoke inquisitively, it wanted to know.

A man stepped forward and spoke to the dragon, “I am Danehil, and we are what’s left of our village.”

The dragon moved its head down very close to Danehil, leveling its great eye with his. “Danehil... interesting. And what has happened to your people, that you walk through my old swamp? It is not often I see those who can speak to me out here, though my lonesome is all I need.”

The man was silent a moment, as if calculating the events of his life to try and figure a suitable answer for the beast. “W-we were attacked, mighty dragon, but our Vitki sent us to this place. We are so far from home, and we don’t know if we’ll ever be back.”

A thump was felt as the dragon rested its great head on a rotten log. “So far from home... Home is important, where we all can sit and be content with what we have. This swamp is my home, these trees my family, and this mud my friend. I would do anything to keep my home safe. I don’t need a hoard like the others, I am content with what I have, as we all should be.”

Danehil opened his mouth, but was unsure what to say. We all looked on with a mixture of fear and curiosity as the dragon spoke.

“What do you call your people, little walker?” the dragon asked.

“We are the Helvetii!” He proclaimed proudly.

A rumbling snicker rolled out of the great emerald creature’s throat, “Such spirit for something so small. It has been so long since I’ve seen the heroes. Your kind and mine share many similarities... ah, I always forget myself, it’s not often I receive visitors, you see. I am called Drul, the sire of many dragons who live this day.”

Whispers passed between the group as the meaning of Drul’s words was being debated. Danehil was talking to a man next to him, while the dragon watched impassively at the commotion in his swamp.

I felt something inside me as I gazed into the green eye of the lizard. His immense pupil locked on mine, and lurched his face down towards mine, effectively silencing the group. I couldn’t look away, his entire iris filled my vision.

“You don’t know who the heroes were, do you hatchling?” Drul elevated his head, speaking out to the group, “none of you know of your kind’s history?”

No one spoke, instead looking to one another in confusion and worry. Many eyes were fixed themselves on the dragon, awaiting an explanation.

Drul heaved a gale of a sigh and spoke, “Climb upon my back, heroes. I shall take you to the river north of here where your kind are more suited. The swamp is a fine place for me, but no place for heroes.”

The earth shuddered as the bulk of Drul’s mass moved beneath the mud and water. What was once a serpentine beast, now heaved into a massive creature with arms that pulled themselves from the mud, and legs that pushed its abdomen from its resting place. He spread his great wings, flinging silt and water in all directions, and was finally free of the swamps grasp.

He maneuvered himself towards us, careful not to disturb the trees around him, and lowered his body so we might climb in. There was enough room upon his back, that a group three times our size could recline with space to stretch our legs.

“I must be careful not to hit the trees. I am alone out here, but this swamp is my home. The trees are my friends, the water my family, and the insects my children. Traveling may take some time, but we will reach a place where you may rest and sit upon dry ground, as I know you heroes love.”

And so we were off, riding upon a dragon’s back.

Author's Note:

Authors notes eh? Neato. It's been a looooong time since I've written anything, and I feel I'm starting up again. We'll see how long I last. Please point out any errors, of course, I don't have a pre-reader right now, and I'm going to be doing short chapters that I can release more frequently and will keep me engaged in what can be a very tedious process.

Hope ya'll enjoyed!

Comments

[Valhuir]

Rist runaar? Sorry, your screen name clicked something in my head. :D

Meanwhile... knowing how sacred horses were to the Celts, I'm waiting with bated breath for the first encounter between the humans and the ponies...