Life and Death in the Dragon Lands
Life and Death in the Dragonlands
By Daniel J. Drazen
“Twilight, she’s acting like a … a dragon!”
“Starlight, Smolder is a dragon.”
“Well, it’s easy to forget sometimes, but lately it’s gotten worse!”
“I know,” Twilight Sparkle sighed. “In the past few weeks, she’s been short-tempered … more so than usual … talking back in class to the teachers, to the other students …”
“Ocellus came to me yesterday to talk about it, and you know how seldom she talks about, well, much of anything. And when she did tell me, she was practically in tears!”
“Starlight, admittedly I’m still pretty new to this whole running-a-school thing, and we haven’t had any real disciplinary infractions before. Until now.”
“Ones that didn’t involve Discord, anyway.”
There was a knock on the door of Twilight’s office, and Spike looked in. “I brought Smolder, Twilight.”
“Thanks, Spike. Starlight, you can stay if you want to, but it could get rough.”
“I’ll stay back here and observe, thanks.” She then walked back to a corner of the office.
Spike turned his head to look behind him. When he did so, someone pushed the door wide open and sent Spike face-down on the floor. It was Smolder. She walked into the office and slumped down into the chair in front of Twilight’s desk.
“Spike! Are you all right?” Twilight asked.
“C’mon,” Smolder said, “it’s not like he had that far to fall, anyway.”
“Hey!” Spike protested.
“Maybe Garble’s right: this place is making you soft.”
“That will be enough, Smolder!”
The dragon gave Twilight a contempt-filled look, then looked away.
“Smolder, I don’t understand what’s happening to you. You’ve been physically and verbally abusive to the school and its students. You shredded a tapestry in the main hallway for no reason …”
“Hey, give me credit for not burning that old rag to a crisp!”
“ … you bumped into Yona and knocked her over, you called Gallus a chicken on several occasions, and you told Ocellus that someone should pluck her wings and pin her to a board!”
“That’s what you do to bugs, isn’t it?”
“Smolder, please tell me what you’re going through.”
“Nothing that’s any of your business. Now if there’s nothing else, let me get out of here so I can go back to wasting my time.”
“All right, that’s it! I was hoping we could reason this out, but I guess I have no choice but to …”
Twilight’s words were cut short as Smolder’s skin erupted in a blinding light. Smolder cried out, then slid out of the chair and crumpled to the floor. It took her a few seconds, but she finally got her breathing under control. “That stings!”
“I know what you mean,” Spike said.
“Who asked you?”
“Is that what I think it is?” Twilight asked.
“Yep,” Spike answered, “it’s the Call of the Dragon Lord.”
“How would you know?” Smolder snapped.
“Hey! I got the Call back when Torch retired as Dragon Lord. Where were you?”
“I don’t have to … wait a minute. I was beyond the Dragonlands, going through the Molt. Anyway, if I’ve been Called by the Dragon Lord, I should probably head back home.”
“I’m afraid it’s not that simple, Smolder. Despite your recent behavior, you’re still a student of this school …”
“Uh, Twilight?”
“ … and we have a responsibility to …”
“Uh, Twilight?”
Twilight looked at her office door, where Fluttershy was waiting in the hallway by the open door, trying to get her attention.
“Fluttershy, I’m right in the middle of … Fluttershy, your Cutie Mark is glowing!”
“I know. I checked the Map, and I’m being called to … to the Dragonlands.”
“Who else has been called?”
“Nopony.”
“Oh. Well, since you’ve been called to the Dragonlands and since Smolder has been called by the Dragon Lord, you can chaperone her on her journey home.”
“Uh, Smolder, is there any chance …”
“If you’re going to ask if there are any eggs in the hatching ground,” Smolder spat out, “the answer is No. The season is all wrong. Now can we get going?”
***
The pegasus and the dragon traveled in silence for the most part. Smolder was still in no mood to say much of anything, a condition that was only compounded by the physical irritation of the Call. About the only advantage was that Smolder’s scales glowed brightly which made night flying easier. To her credit, Fluttershy tried a couple of times to engage Smolder in conversation, but the dragon rebuffed every attempt.
They flew through the night, and it wasn’t until mid-morning that they approached the Dragonlands. Smolder spotted Dragon Lord Ember standing on a prominent cliff, the Bloodstone Scepter in her claw. The instant both of them landed before her, Ember pounded the ledge with the base of the Scepter. Immediately, Smolder’s skin stopped glowing; the Call had been answered.
“Welcome, Smolder, and … Smolder, why did you bring the Egg Talker with you?”
Fluttershy blushed. The last time she had come to the Dragonlands she had become so enamored by the eggs in the hatching grounds that she had tried talking to them using foaltalk to hasten their hatching. Now she wondered if she would ever live that down. On top of that, Ember apparently still had trouble remembering the names of ponies. She told herself that there were worse things she could be called than Egg Talker, but she couldn’t think of any.
“It was her idea, Lord Ember.”
“Never mind. Both of you, follow me.”
They followed Ember as she weaved her way through the volcanic landscape. After a minute, Smolder looked around. “This isn’t the way to your lair.”
“We’re not going to my lair.”
“But nobody lives this far out from the heart of the Dragonlands.”
“The Matriarch does.”
Smolder froze in her tracks. “The … the Matriarch? Why are we going to see her?”
“Because she asked to see you. That’s why you were Called. Try to keep up.”
After a second of stunned silence, Smolder flew forward to catch up with Dragon Lord Ember.
Fluttershy swallowed. “Uh, Dragon Lord Ember?”
“Save your questions, Egg Talker. You’ll be able to ask them soon and get answers.”
Fluttershy nodded and trotted after the two dragons.
A few minutes later, where the volcanic hills gave way to wind-swept wastelands, the three approached what appeared to be a solitary volcano. A kind of sheltered entrance had been built into the side of the volcano, and the three walked into it. After a few seconds of becoming accustomed to the near-darkness, Fluttershy noticed what appeared to be a small entryway off to one side. Ember stepped to the entrance and tapped the hard stone floor with the Scepter.
“Mage! You have company!”
There was the sound of hooves against stones, and a pony came into view. A light blue earth pony, her red hair, usually kept up in a kind of cone, lay loose against her neck. Her eyes were half-closed and tired-looking but opened wide when she saw those before her.
“Oh, mah stars … Fluttershy!!”
“Mage Meadowbrook!”
Mage rushed forward, letting her neck fall against that of Fluttershy in the affectionate pony greeting. Fluttershy, for her part, pressed the side of her head against Mage’s shoulder. When the two separated, the eyes of both of them were filled with tears.
“It’s been so long since I’ve seen you, Meadowbrook!”
“It’s been a while since Ah seen ANY pony … no offence, Lord Ember.”
“Yeah, yeah, none taken. Now you two, follow us and stay just outside the central chamber.”
“Central chamber?” Fluttershy asked.
“You’ll see, darlin’.”
They continued on as the passage narrowed, the ceiling no more than a few inches above their heads. Mage sensed Fluttershy’s nervousness and said “Steady” in a half-whisper. This helped ease Fluttershy’s fear as they walked. After another minute, Fluttershy could sense the passage opening up again, but Mage held out a foreleg and they stopped just before entering the chamber.
The chamber was huge and the ceiling ended with a number of jagged holes letting in the sunlight. Yet the chamber was only dimly lit. A seemingly infinite darkness deepened toward the edges of the chamber so that it was impossible to see anything in the shadows. Yet it was the smell that made Fluttershy gasp. The smell was old, far older than that of Mage Meadowbrook’s home in Hayseed Swamp. But the Swamp’s smell was heavy with life: insect and aquatic, the water whether free-flowing or stagnant, soil and moss. The chamber’s smell, however, was of sickness and decay with a whiff of medicinal potions, all mixed with a subtle but unmistakable scent of heat and smoke.
Ember took a few steps forward into the chamber, then dropped to one knee. Smolder, following her, did the same.
“Matriarch! Smolder has come!”
From out of the darkness, a voice came. It was breathy, weak, and tired, yet distinct.
“Smolder is here?”
“Yes, Matriarch.”
Fluttershy turned to Mage Meadowbrook. “What’s a Matriarch?” she whispered.
“Ah’ll tell y’all later,” she whispered back.
Then there was the sound of stone against stone, as if an earthquake was gathering strength. Something moved out of the darkest corner of the chamber and toward the feeble light at the center. It was a giant dragon arm, gray in the darkness of the chamber. It moved with excruciating slowness toward the center, the claw open and the palm up. Yet the arm was thin, the talon of one claw was missing and another was broken. It stopped when the claw was illuminated by the dim sunlight shining down through the holes.
“Smolder, please, be seated.”
Smolder swallowed, stood up and approached the open claw. It was so big that four dragons her size could have sat there comfortably. She sat down close to the talons.
The instant she did so, the chamber was filled with a whispered moan. Smolder stood up, and Mage, forgetting the manners, stepped forward. “Are you in pain, Matriarch?” she called out.
“I … am fine, Mage. But Smolder … though her body is strong, and her mind is sharp, she carries such a powerful burden on her heart that it could bring this mountain down on top of all of us.”
Smolder could only look at the giant claw with the kind of cold dread that dragons just aren’t used to feeling. Then the voice spoke again:
“I’m sorry if I frightened you. Please, be seated.”
Slowly, she sat back down on the open claw.
“I need you to answer three questions for me, Smolder. Can you feel the warmth of the sun on your scales?”
Smolder nodded.
“You will have to speak up, hatchling, I am blind.”
“Hatchling” is a word loaded with meaning in the dragon vocabulary. Technically, it means any dragon between the moment they hatch and the moment when the Molt is done. It can also be used as an all-purpose insult among grown dragons, capable of starting a fight in a blink. But to Smolder, it didn’t feel like any of those. Instead, it felt like a term of endearment.
“Yes, Matriarch.”
“Can you feel the warmth inside you?”
“Yes, Matriarch.”
“And can you hear the music of your heartstring?”
A dragon’s heartstring was literally the stuff of legend; one story told how the heartstring is the only part of a dragon’s body that does not decay when a dragon dies. Yet like most dragons she knew, Smolder had no practical experience of listening to her own heartstring. Still, she knew the old stories well enough; following their directions, she closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and …
Suddenly Smolder’s eyes opened. She had heard something, something she had never remembered hearing before. For a second, she was too shocked to say anything. But the Matriarch waited with what seemed like infinite patience. Finally, Smolder was able to say “Yes.”
“Ember,” the Matriarch said, “you and the others may leave now. What we have to say is for none else to know. I will send for you when we are done.”
Ember got to her feet. “Yes, Matriarch.” Then turning, she walked out of the chamber. When they were back by the small side room where Fluttershy had seen Mage Meadowbrook, Ember turned to the ponies. “You two wait here. When the Matriarch calls me, I’ll come for you.”
“I understand,” Fluttershy said.
“Good.” Then Ember walked to the entrance of the volcano and flew up and out of sight.
Mage walked to a workbench; like every other piece of furniture in the room, it was carved from volcanic rock, with deep rough grooves left by dragon claws. “Ah can offer y’all some tea, if y’all don’t mind sharin’ a cup. I wasn’t expectin’ company.”
“I don’t mind at all! It’s just so good to see you again.”
“You too, darlin’. More than you know.”
“I can’t help wondering, what you’re doing here in the Dragonlands?”
“Well, the short answer is Ah was sent for. Ah know folks have sought me out for one cure or another, but Ah’ve never heard from a dragon before!”
“Don’t the dragons have a healer of their own?”
“Fluttershy, darlin’, Ah’ve learned more about dragons than Ah ever imagined there was to know!” She set the rough-sculpted cup in front of Fluttershy. “The cold truth of the matter is, there ain’t no healers here in the Dragonlands. A dragon’s expected to get over their sickness and injury on their own, fightin’ it like an enemy. That’s something Ah’ve heard a thousand times in the weeks Ah’ve been here: ‘Fightin’ is the dragon way.’”
“And if they don’t?”
Mage sighed. “They’re expected to keep to themselves until … until they die.”
“Oh, my goodness!”
“Most dragons, Ah learned, go off by themselves to die, if they can. Ah’ve heard of them speak of death as ‘the great shame.’ But Ah figured it ain’t mah place to tell them otherwise.”
“Then why are you here?”
“Ah’m here for the Matriarch. Near as Ah can figure, she’s a very important dragon, even more so than the Dragon Lord. In fact, it was Lord Ember who sent for me, arranged for a giant old dragon name of Fang to carry me here, and for other dragons to fetch herbs, water and what have you for me. Ah’ve been treatin’ the Matriarch, givin’ her potions for pain or for sleepin’.”
Mage turned to Fluttershy and sighed deeply. “What Ah do has many names: palliative care, symptom care, comfort care …”
She paused, and Fluttershy was about to speak up when Mage looked up at her, tears streaking her face: “… terminal care.”
“Oh, no!”
“Fluttershy, Ah … ev’ry instinct in mah being says that Ah work to bring a critter back to health. And the Matriarch certain ain’t the first patient Ah’ve lost. But it never …”
Fluttershy stepped closer to Mage and again draped her neck over than of Mage as the healer’s tears flowed. The sound of her sobbing echoed across the barren rock room.
And in that instant, Fluttershy realized why the Map had called her and her alone. It wasn’t because she needed to accompany Smolder to the Dragonlands. It was for Mage Meadowbrook’s sake. She had been working here, cut off from other ponies, treating a dragon, a dragon who was dying. The Map had sent her to the Dragonlands because, quite simply, Mage Meadowbrook needed a friend.
***
“You cain’t imagine what it’s been like!”
Mage and Fluttershy sat around a stone table, one of several pieces of furniture provided by Dragon Lord Ember so Mage could do her work. It was fashioned from the same rough volcanic stone as the floor and walls and ceiling of the chamber. A candle here and there illuminated the chamber but instead of lightening the chamber they seemed mainly to deepen the shadows to a midnight blackness. After Mage had recovered herself, she brewed more tea for herself and Fluttershy.
“I know dragons can be … difficult,” Fluttershy said tactfully. “Spike had a problem years ago when he became so greedy, he turned into a monster. And lately, there’s been Smolder.”
“She didn’t git taken over by greed too, did she?”
“No, but she … she started losing control. I don’t want to say she was misbehaving, because it was worse. And nopony seemed to know why.”
“That explain a heap.”
“A heap of what?”
“Normally, the Matriarch is as sweet as magnolias, even though she’s dyin’. Ah tried getting’ to know her, as well as a pony could know a dragon. You cain’t see much of her ‘cause she tucks herself in the shadow of the chamber. But Ah knew Ah’d have to get up close to examine her if’n Ah was gonna treat her.
“She must’ve been a fine-lookin’ dragon back in her prime. But now, well, she looks just plain wore out. Her scales are fallin’ out, one of her horns is missin’, and you heard her tell Smolder that she’s blind. But she’s also been real peaceful, in spite of all her aches and pains. Even though she has every right to complain, Ah’ve barely heard a cross word from her. In spite of bein’ a dragon, she’s what we used to call in the swamp ‘a real lady.’
“Anyway, it was yesterday and I was gonna excuse myself to put together a sleeping potion for her; she wouldn’t talk about it but Ah sensed somethin’ was keepin’ her up nights lately. Just as Ah turned my back to her, she lets out a cry of pain. That stopped me in mah tracks, and Ah asked her what was wrong. She didn’t say anything for a few seconds, but then Lord Ember busted into the chamber without an ‘Excuse me’ and asked ‘Matriarch, what’s wrong?’ And the Matriarch pulled herself together and said ‘Smolder. You must Call Smolder.’ Then she went quiet, breathin’ like she’d just flown to the top of the sky and back.
“Ah prepared the sleep medicine for her, and Ah tried to draw her out about what happened, but all she could do was repeat ‘Tell me. Tell me when Smolder is here.’ Then after a bit she fell asleep. Then Lord Ember looked in on her and Ah asked what was happenin’ with her, and she got all snippy and said it weren’t none of mah concern. Then she left.
“I have no idea what it meant, but near as Ah can tell, Lord Ember and the Matriarch can talk to each other without words. Ah know Ah said that the Matriarch is declinin’ but Ah do believe she still has powers we cain’t understand.”
“Like when Smolder sat on the palm of her claw?”
‘Exactly! Somethin’ passed between the two of ‘em, and the Matriarch was able to look into Smolder’s heart; that’s the best way Ah can put it.”
“I hope she knows what’s wrong and how to deal with Smolder; she’s become a real problem lately.”
“Well, if any dragon can understand a young’un like Smolder, it’d be the Matriarch. Ah asked Lord Ember a lot of questions about her, but she ignored almost all of them. But she did tell me the name Matriarch means ‘Mother of Dragons’.”
“Isn’t that just a title, like Dragon Lord?”
“Ah don’t know. Ah think there’s somethin’ behind it that’s more than Ah can figure.”
Fluttershy walked to the entrance of the chamber and back. “How long have we been here?”
“Feels like hours. Stayin’ in here is like midnight in a cypress swamp.”
“How do you sleep in here?”
“Sometimes Ah don’t and that’s the truth. There have been plenty of evenings Ah’ve settled in, but then the Matriarch tells me she’s in pain. But that’s nothin’ new for me. Still …”
Mage stopped talking. Fluttershy was about to ask why when she felt something: a low rumbling just below the range of sound, powerful enough to shake the whole mountain. She was about to ask Mage whether they should leave the chamber when Lord Ember appeared at the doorway.
“Mage, come with me. You too, Egg Talker.”
The two ponies followed Ember, the only light coming from the glow of her Bloodstone Scepter. They walked back toward the central chamber. As they did, the low rumbling was joined by a second sound: a high-pitched cackle.
They stepped to the entrance of the main chamber. Before them, Smolder still sat on the Matriarch’s palm, rocking with laughter. Echoing across the cavern was a low nasal chuckle, the rumbling laughter from the Matriarch.
“Yeah,” Smolder said as she caught her breath, “Garble really is a goof, but he means well.”
“His friends are too willing to go along with some of his … bad ideas. He also needs a friend like you to tell him when he’s wandering.”
“You really think he’d listen to me?”
“He trusts you, hatchling. That’s enough.”
Perhaps it was the red light coming from Lord Ember’s Bloodstone Scepter, which was now the only source of light in the chamber. But Fluttershy believed that she saw Smolder blushing.
“How do you feel, hatchling?”
“Better.”
“I am glad to hear it. It is time for you to go.”
A heavy silence fell on the chamber. Smolder held onto a finger of the claw, which was as big as she was herself.
“I don’t want you to go!” she sniffled.
“Nor do I, hatchling. Nor do I. Do you remember the story of ‘Draco’s Legacy’?”
“Yes.”
“Listen to me, hatchling. When you return here, and my own legacy is revealed, I want you to fight for it. Fight for it as you have never fought for anything else in your life. Will you do that?”
The silence in the chamber seem to last for ages, but Smolder eventually answered: “I will.”
“Go now.”
Smolder stood, walked a few paces, then turned to speak into the shadows of the chamber: “Goodbye, Matriarch.”
“Goodbye, daughter.”
Fluttershy and Mage exchanged glances when they heard this, but they also heard the Matriarch speak again: “Mage, will you stay with me, for a while?”
“Of course, Matriarch. Do you need somethin’ for pain or for sleep or …”
“What I need, Mage, is for the two of us to talk, the way old friends talk. I have not had many luxuries, but I think I would like that. And by your service, you have certainly earned it.”
“Thank you kindly, Matriarch.” She then looked over her shoulder. “Goodbye, Fluttershy, and thank you ever so much for comin’ to see me.”
“I was glad to, Mage. Goodbye.”
“Alright,” Lord Ember said, “let’s leave the Matriarch and the Mage alone. Smolder, Egg Talker, follow me.”
The three of them walked from the central cavern and stopped at the entrance of the mountain. There was only a sliver of light on the horizon. Fluttershy was amazed that they had been there so long.
“Smolder,” Ember said as she laid a claw on the young dragon’s shoulder, “when the time comes, you’ll receive the Call again. You should probably tell Spike to expect the Call as well.”
“Will anypony else receive the Call?” Fluttershy asked.
“No. The service is for dragons only. Now get going, both of you.” And with that, Lord Ember turned and walked away.
“Professor Fluttershy?”
Fluttershy looked at Smolder.
“Would you mind if we don’t talk on the flight back home? I … I’ve got a lot to think about.”
***
It was just before breakfast when Smolder and Fluttershy touched down in the center courtyard of Twilight’s School of Friendship. Though a number of students watched them through the windows, only Twilight Sparkle and Spike walked out to greet them. Before either of them could speak, Smolder held up her claws.
“Headmare Twilight, Spike, you need to hear this. Spike and I will be receiving the Call of the Dragon Lord; I don’t know when but soon, maybe in a day or two. When it comes, we’ll be going back to the Dragonlands. End of story.”
“Why?” Twilight asked.
Seeming to ignore her, Smolder turned to Spike. “Have you ever been to a dragon funeral?”
“Wait; dragons have funerals?” Spike asked.
“Not usually, but this is kind of important. Anyway, if you want me, I’ll be in the school library.”
“But the doors won’t open for another hour,” Twilight said.
“I can wait.” And she glided away.
“That was pretty rude!” Spike observed.
“Maybe,” Fluttershy said, “but nowhere near as rude as she was before she got the Call. Can I get some sleep, Twilight? We’ve been flying all night.”
“Sure, go ahead, Fluttershy. I can take your class if you need me to.”
Twilight did take Fluttershy’s class on Creature Kindness: Family Edition, but she found herself glancing at the clock more than she should have. As soon as the bell rang, she hurried not to her office, but to the library.
She found Starlight Glimmer at the front desk, moving a cart with only three books on it. “Was Smolder here, Starlight?”
“Yes. It was kind of weird.”
“What was?”
“Well, she asked me for help using the book catalog; she wanted to find everything we had about dragons.” She nodded her horn toward the cart. “That’s it.”
Twilight sighed. “I know. I remember when I looked in the old Ponyville Library for books about dragons to answer questions Spike had; they didn’t even have that much!”
“Two of the books are really ancient and the third made it sound like dragons were the mortal enemies of ponies!”
“Which book?”
“That old brown one, top of the pile.”
Twilight picked it up with her unicorn magic, looked at the title, and groaned.
“What is it?” Starlight asked.
“Be ye ware of Dragonnes: a compendium of foull, loathsome and dangerrous creatures of Equestria. This was the last book Smolder needed to see.”
“Aside from lots of old-fashioned misspelling, I guess it has nothing good to say about dragons.”
“It has lots to say about rogue dragons, and it gives the impression that all dragons are like that.”
“That bad, huh?”
“I’ve kept this hidden from Spike, that’s how bad it is!”
“And Smolder just walked out. At least she didn’t torch the book. Or the library! Should I talk to her about this?”
“No, Starlight. She’s obviously going through something, and clearly she has been for several weeks now. But whatever she’s going through, we probably shouldn’t confront her about it. I … I only hope she tells us when the time is right.”
Smolder spent the rest of the day isolating herself. When she was seen by the students or faculty members, she was alone, bent over sheets of paper and writing furiously. Sometimes, when she became aware of her being watched, she moved to another location: a closet, the student cafeteria, Ocellus even saw her in the grotto beneath the Clubhouse scratching the ground for gemstones with one claw while writing with the other.
And so it continued, for another day. That evening, absenting herself from dinner, she slipped into the dormitory room which she shared with Silverstream. Locking the sheaf of papers she kept with her in a desk drawer, she fell into the lower bunk and immediately went to sleep.
She fell into the dream, the same one that had haunted her for weeks. She started out flying but then suddenly found herself enveloped by fog. No matter which way she turned, no matter if she climbed or dove, the fog was thick and seamless.
Then, in a change from before, her strength simply gave out. Tumbling head over tail, she started falling. She seemed to fall faster and faster, and there was nothing she could do to slow down. So she let herself fall, not caring what happened to her. If this was the end, she welcomed it.
Suddenly, the fog went from a milky opacity to midnight blackness. She could only tell she was still falling but still had no idea how soon she would slam into the ground.
And then the fog went from black to white, a blinding white …
Smolder sat up in bed, breathing hard. Then she saw the source of the light in her dream: herself. It was the Call of the Dragon Lord. And she knew why she was being Called.
Just then she heard a moaning mumble from the top bunk. Grabbing her kicked-off blanket to dim the light she gave off, she wrapped it around herself, slipped out of bed, and looked at Silverstream. The hippogriff was fast asleep, mumbling in a sing-song voice:
“The drain is connected to the drainpipe, the drainpipe’s connected to the U-bend, the U-bend’s connummun hoo da …” Then she rolled over, facing the wall.
Still wearing the blanket, Smolder walked toward the window. It afforded a view of Princess Twilight’s castle. It wasn’t long before she saw a small light flying out of a window of the castle. She knew what it was: Spike had also received the Call of the Dragon Lord. Letting the blanket fall to the floor, she opened the window, slipped outside, and flew off after Spike and toward the Dragonlands.
***
It was about an hour after sunrise when Spike and Smolder could see the Dragonlands. Smolder banked toward the dormant volcano where the Matriarch had lived out her last days. She saw that the opening at ground level had been blocked and sealed by volcanic rock, which rose to form a platform above the dragons gathered below. Lord Ember stood at the center of the platform, watching Spike and Smolder approach. Only after they landed and she had guided Smolder to stand on her right and Spike to stand on her left did she tap the Bloodstone Scepter on the ground and cancel the Call. But before Lord Ember could say anything, a dragon in the crowd raised his voice:
“What’s she doing here?”
Spike looked around. Then he sensed a motion to his left. It was Mage Meadowbrook.
“Yeah, what’s a pony doing here?”
“This is a dragon ceremony!”
More dragons began shouting, until Lord Ember spoke up:
“QUIET!!”
The dragons became silent.
“Mage Meadowbrook showed honor to the Matriarch by treating her during her final illness. She’s been asked to attend so that we can show her honor in return. And if any dragon has a problem with that, they’re free to leave!”
The dragons went silent. Lord Ember then raised the Bloodstone Scepter.
“Tinder, Matriarch of our horde, is dead. Let the Black Dragons assemble!”
Eight dragons, equally tall and strong, approached the foot of the platform. Both Spike and Smolder didn’t see anything particularly black about the coloring of any of them. Then, they began crushing volcanic rocks with their claws, continuing to do so until the rocks had been reduced to a fine powder. They then rubbed the powder on their claws, forearms, chests, and faces, blackening them. When they finished they turned to face the horde.
“Bring out what is left of the Matriarch’s horde.”
The Black Dragons flew to the side of the mountain, returning with what ended up being a horde of gemstones remarkable neither in quality nor quantity.
“By custom, the horde of gemstones left behind is to be shared with the survivors of the horde. If that’s the only reason you’ve chosen to attend, take your share and go!”
Without any further prompting, fully half of the gathered dragons fell upon the horde of gemstones like pigeons upon day-old breadcrumbs. Spike was expecting an orderly, solemn distribution of the gemstones. Instead, the dragons flew at each other, claws slashing and teeth snapping.
“Is it always this rough?” he asked Lord Ember.
“You were raised by ponies, Ambassador Spike, so I can forgive you for not knowing. Had you grown up in the Dragonlands, you would have heard this phrase pretty much every day of your life: Fighting is the dragon way.”
Spike looked over to Smolder, who nodded her head.
It was over in several minutes of shrieking and fighting. When the gemstones had all been collected and the last of the dragons who had fought over them had flown away, Lord Ember stepped forward again.
“Tinder, our Matriarch, was born by fire as all dragons are. It is time for her to return to the fire.”
With that, the Black Dragons flew up and disappeared into the top of the volcano.
“Now what?” Spike asked.
“Now we wait. The Black Dragons will dig through the floor of the chamber, letting the lava rise. The lava will consume the body of the Matriarch; almost all of it, anyway.”
“’Almost’?”
Smolder looked over to Spike. “There’s one part of a dragon’s body that cannot be destroyed, not by fire, not by time.” She placed an open claw against her chest. “The heartstring.”
It was the first Spike had ever heard of a dragon’s heartstring, but he made a mental note to himself to ask Twilight about it when he got back to Ponyville.
Lord Ember then turned to Smolder. “You should probably know: the Matriarch was at peace when she died.”
“She didn’t fight against death?”
“Her last fight, the one where she gave everything inside her, wasn’t against anything. She fought for you.”
“Me?”
“It’s why you received the Call, why she spoke with you. She knew what you were going through, and what you could become if nothing was done. She fought to keep you from going rogue, wandering alone and listening only to your impulses until you yourself died.”
“That’s why … that’s why she reminded me of how to listen to my heartstring, and why she said I should fight for hers.”
“You know you’re going to be on your own. I can’t simply hand it to you. And you know why.”
“Yes. Because fighting is the dragon way.”
Ember looked up at the top of the volcano. About a minute later, she saw the Black Dragons fly up out of the volcano and start circling it.
“Soon now,” she said to Smolder. “Get ready.”
The Black Dragons circled the mouth of the volcano in a tight circle. Smolder’s breathing speeded up. Then, just as the Black Dragons’ circle became wider and wider, Lord Ember raised the Bloodstone Scepter and hovered several feet above the platform. As she did, several rivers of lava began to run down the side of the volcano, continuing as rivers or collecting in pools.
Then, the Black Dragons stopped circling and collected above one of the lava flows. Still holding the Bloodstone Scepter above her, Ember flew up near the top of the volcano. She saw it: it was a tangled clump of matter, like a wick floating on hot wax. Ember watched until it was halfway down the side of the volcano. Then she turned and waved the Scepter downward.
The fight began.
The scramble for leftover gemstones looked like pigeons battling over breadcrumbs, but what happened now looked like a war. The dragons who sought the heartstring were all larger and stronger than Smolder. It looked at first that Smolder was hopelessly outnumbered and outmatched by the larger dragons, but as the battle went on, it became clear that the larger dragons were so intent on getting the heartstring that they were easily distracted by other dragons when they got close to their objective.
This was when Smolder revealed her own tactic of fighting for the heartstring. She may have been smaller and lighter than the other dragons but that meant she was more flexible and better able to change directions. While most of the dragons tried to push the others aside to get to the heartstring, Smolder harassed the dragons with hit-and-run flying designed to inflict damage without leaving herself open as a target. More than once, she found a dragon chasing her and then suddenly changed course, causing two or more dragons to collide in mid-air.
One of the dragons she went after was Garble, who had hung back from the fight looking for a lull when he could slip in and claim the heartstring without having to exert himself. Smolder attacked Garble with a kick to the thigh, a punch to the shoulder, and a tail whip upside the head in quick succession. That was enough punishment for Garble, who retreated.
That’s how it went for the course of the battle. By attacking and backing away, Smolder, who had no hope of inflicting any major damage on the older and stronger dragons, was able to wear them down. Finally, when four dragons were left facing Smolder, they agreed in silent unison to withdraw from the fight. Smolder, with a cut above one eye and a slightly swollen ankle, glided down to the lava stream and plucked the heartstring from it. As she did that, Lord Ember flew back to the platform and landed.
“That’s it?” Spike asked.
“What did you think was going to happen: that the pink pony would jump out from behind a rock and throw a party?” Immediately she put a talon against Spike’s mouth. “Please don’t answer that.”
Smolder draped the heartstring against her neck and limped to the lava stream. She sat down on the bank of the stream and eased her feet into the lava, looking for all the world like a hatchling warming her toes on a winter’s day.
It took some doing but as she soaked her feet in the lava, she worked out how long the heartstring was. Whatever the Matriarch’s size was, her heartstring was no thicker that one of Smolder’s talons. Feeding one end over her shoulder and behind her head, she managed to fashion it into a 4-strand necklace and tie the ends together. Then she straightened it so the knot was against the back of her neck.
She let the heartstring necklace sit across her claws. She seemed to examine it for a minute or so. Then she raised it to her face with both claws and pressed it against her eyes. From their platform, Spike and Ember saw Smolder’s body tremble and her shoulders heave.
“What’s going on?” Spike asked.
“It’s real to her now. She knows the Matriarch is dead and she’s grieving.”
“I should go down there and …”
“No, you won’t. This kind of grief doesn’t happen very often, but when it does, a dragon goes through it alone.”
“But at Twilight’s school…”
“At Twilight’s school, you, Twilight and Smolder’s friends can comfort her. The best thing you can do now is to let her be, and fly back to Ponytown.”
“Ponyville.”
“Right. And Mage,” she said as she turned to address Mage Meadowbrook, “I’ll talk to Fang about getting you home. And thank you once more for your service to the Matriarch.” Then she flew up and banked to the left.
“Honestly,” Mage said to Spike, “after all this time here treatin’ the Matriarch and dealin’ with dragons, Ah feel like Ah still don’t know them any better.”
“I am a dragon. And I feel the same way.”
***
It was the middle of the night. Smolder lay a few feet away from the lava stream, her two claws pillowing her head as she looked up. It was a rare cloudless night, and the stars were spread across the sky.
“There you are!”
Smolder knew it was Garble, but she didn’t move and didn’t say anything.
“I been lookin’ all over for you. What are you looking at, anyway?”
Smolder moved one claw and put it on her chest. “Draco. The first dragon. The …”
“The great dragon, yeah I know.” He didn’t so much put his claw over his heart as Smolder did as sweep it across his chest like he was brushing away a fly. “And, uh, where is it again?”
Smolder traced an arc in the sky. “Up there by the North Star. Keeping it safe from the Ursas. Like in the story.”
“Yeah, I remember. Stupid Ursas! And what are those stars down there?” he asked, pointing to a spot in the southeastern sky. Smolder raised her head to look.
“That? That’s the Milky Hay.”
“Eww, what kind of namby-pamby name is that? You probably learned about it in pony school.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“And you still wanna go back there?”
Up until that moment, Smolder’s voice had been flat and without feeling. That changed as she propped herself up with her arms. “Garble, you know that my going to that school was Lord Ember’s idea.”
“Yeah, I know. And, uh, I’ve been thinking about it.”
It was something of an occasion when Garble used the word “thinking” in a sentence. Smolder sat up, legs crossed, and waited to hear what he had to say.
“First off, I was really impressed by the way you fought for that heartstring. I mean it!”
“You’re not just saying that because I kicked your tail?”
“Nah, you were really great. And it’s not like you broke anything!” Garble shifted position, and from the way he winced and gasped, Smolder knew she may not have broken any bones, but he’d be sore in the morning. “Anyway, I was wondering if you’d want to forget about that pony school and move back here.”
“And what am I supposed to do if I came back?”
“Whatever you like! Although …” Garble paused and looked around to make sure there weren’t any other dragons nearby. “… if you decided to challenge Ember for the Dragon Lordship, I just wanted you to know that I got your back!”
“Come on, bro, what do I know about being Dragon Lord?”
“Hey, I could help you there, too. I could be your … Royal Advisor or whatever they call it. Like I said, I got your back!”
Smolder took a few seconds to consider the idea, and she considered the source.
“Sorry, I think I’ll go back to school. Besides, if I learn what they have to teach me, who knows? It might make me a better Dragon Lord!”
Garble roared with frustration. “Again with the pony school! That … you know what? Go back to the school! See if I care!” And with that, Garble stood up and turned his back on Smolder, leaning against a large rock.
Smolder opened her mouth to say something, but it remained unsaid. Instead, her eyes widened and she tilted her head slightly, as if hearing something no other dragon could hear. Then she got to her feet and walked toward Garble. She gently placed an open claw against his back and said in a voice as gentle as her touch: “I’ll miss you too, Gar-Gar.”
Garble didn’t say anything. He shook his head slightly, then turned so that he could just look at Smolder out of the corner of one eye. “You … you’re coming back, right? Like for the Feast of Fire?”
“No way I’d ever miss a Feast of Fire!”
“You did last year!”
“I told you what happened: another student pulled a prank, it went really bad, and a bunch of us had to stay and clean up the mess. I’m not getting involved in something like that again if I can help it!”
Garble turned to face Smolder, who smiled at him. He seemed to be at a loss for words for a few second but finally said “Well, at least that’s settled!” He made it sound like he was the one who had settled things, but Smolder didn’t say anything. “Anyway, let’s go back to the cave and get some sleep before you head back to that pony school.”
“You know,” Smolder said as she looked up, “I’m really not sleepy. And it’s such a clear night with no clouds. So, I think I’ll head back to the school now; that way I can practice my night navigation.”
“Aw, come on! Any dragon with half a brain is sound asleep at this hour!”
Smolder looked at Garble and grinned. “And what does that say about the two of us?” Then she held up a clenched claw at shoulder height.
Garble shook his head, knowing that he had walked right into it. But he exchanged the claw jive with his sister: claw bump, elbow bump, triple claw slap, tail bump. And when they were done, he was smiling.
“Take care of yourself,” Garble said.
Smolder flapped her wings and lifted off the ground. “You too, Gar-Gar.”
Garble roared again. “When are you gonna stop calling me that?”
Smolder laughed. “When it stops making you crazy!”
***
Smolder returned to the School of Friendship but continued to avoid the teachers and students. When someone tried communicating with her, the result was usually terse and enigmatic. When she met Starlight Glimmer in the hallway and the unicorn started to ask Smolder about the heartstring she wore around her neck, Smolder simply said “Not right now. Later.” and kept walking. When Spike started to ask her how she was doing, conscious of her grieving for the Matriarch, she said “Better, but I’m still …” before walking away. And when Smolder saw Ocellus, whom she had insulted to the point of tears, the dragon walked up to her, hugged Ocellus around her neck, said “I’m sorry. It wasn’t me, but it was.” Then she walked away, leaving the Changeling more confused than ever.
Spike had explained to Twilight and the school faculty what had happened at the dragon funeral, or at least he tried to explain it. Despite the fact that he was a dragon himself, he told Twilight that he had learned next to nothing by his visits to the Dragonlands, except to avoid Garble. He admitted that he was guessing as the meaning of what the dragons did and how they lived and that he therefore felt like a fraud as Ambassador to the Dragonlands. Twilight assured him that Dragon Lord Ember respected him even if Garble didn’t, and Spike had to admit that she was right about that.
It was the morning of the third day after Smolder’s return that she was found outside the door to Professor Fluttershy’s classroom, curled in slumber. With a mixture of curiosity and fear, the students and teachers of the school gathered around the entrance, none daring to make a sound. When Smolder did wake up, she took only a second to stare at the creatures gathered around her. Then she stood, scooped up the papers she had slept on, and said to Fluttershy: “I still owe you a presentation.”
The presentations had been a generic assignment: the students were to give an oral report on a topic of personal interest, and Fluttershy was to evaluate the presentations not only scholastically but based on intangible factors as well: public speaking, confidence, and knowledge of the chosen topic.
The first presentation had been given by Sandbar. He had chosen to speak of sea turtles because of his Cutie Mark. Fluttershy thought he had done well, but after he had finished, Smolder looked troubled and distracted. In looking back on it, Fluttershy realized that Smolder’s recent bout of bad behavior could be traced directly to Sandbar’s presentation. Fluttershy was nearly resigned to not receiving a paper from Smolder at all, much less hearing her give a presentation.
“Yes,” said Fluttershy. “Yes, you do.”
The classroom opened and the students entered and took their seats. So, too, did the school faculty, standing in the back of the room. Other students from other classes, who wondered what had happened to their teachers, began drifting in as well. If Smolder was nervous about her presentation, she didn’t show it.
“My paper is titled ‘Life And Death In The Dragonlands.’” Given the secretive nature of dragons, the blunt title caused a small sensation by itself. “The life is mine, from when I hatched to today. The death is of a dragon I only knew for less than a day but who became very dear to me.
“If you remember Sandbar’s paper and how he spoke about how baby sea turtles are left to hatch in the hot sand and then find their own way to the sea, then you also know something about dragons. Only, dragons lay their eggs in the hatching grounds, where shallow pits to receive the eggs are dug just above underground lava pools. It’s the heat of the lava that hatches the dragon eggs, like the heat of the sun beating down on the sand that hatches the sea turtle eggs.
“And just like the baby sea turtles, dragon hatchlings start out alone. No dragon, male or female, lays a prior claim on any one egg or horde of eggs. That doesn’t stop dragons from visiting the hatching grounds and taking a hatchling home with them to raise. And despite that, dragon hatchlings can get picked off by predators: hydras, rocs, even tatzelwurms which are really really wild dragons who have lost so much sense of being a dragon that they can cannibalize a horde and not give it a thought. Again, that’s sort of the same thing that can happens to baby sea turtles.
“I’m told that I lay in my eggshell for a day and a night. No dragon came to claim me, but neither did any predators. I may have nibbled on my shell but I didn’t know what was going on. So I didn’t have the good sense to be scared of the world.
“It was the next day that another hatchling walked into the hatching ground. He was a buck dragon named Garble. He’d done a really good job of surviving. He didn’t so much have friends as he became a leader of other hatchlings who were willing to let him order them around. I didn’t know why Garble went to the hatching ground. Maybe he was looking for a hatchling to treat like a pet; that’s not unusual with some dragons. I was told that the most likely reason was that, despite having his own horde or gang of dragons at an early age, he was lonely. Whether that was the reason or not, I was told that he took one look at me, started walking away, looked again, then picked me up and carried me to his lair. He probably stopped at a lava pool to wash the egg smell off me. And that’s how he became my big brother and I became his little sister. Hatchlings raising hatchlings; that’s another thing that’s common in the Dragonlands.
“Even as new hatchlings, dragons are still pretty low maintenance. I’m told that I didn’t keep him up with my crying because it takes a while for dragon hatchlings to catch on that they can do that. Garble was more interested in teaching me to talk. He started too early; I was just starting to realize that I could make sounds. Of course, the first thing he tried to teach me was how to say his name: Garble. But I was too young to do it right. Still, he was really happy when I called him ‘Gar-Gar.’ Hey, that was the best I could do. Obviously, I eventually managed to learn how to talk and to learn words. But I still call him Gar-Gar, even now, because it drives him crazy, especially when other dragons are around. But I can get away with it because I’m his little sister.
“There’s a saying among dragons: ‘Fighting is the dragon way.’ So, in addition to learning how to talk and the best way to scratch for gemstones to eat, Garble taught me how to fight. Fighting, even competitions in the form of arm wrestling, tail wrestling and lava diving, are ways that dragons show where they belong in the horde. And even though I was Garble’s little sister, other dragons his age never cut me any slack. They expected me to fight, and so I fought. And with a few pointers from Garble, I got to be pretty good at it, too.
“I mentioned lava diving. Garble started out by getting into a lava pool, lifting me off the edge and dunking me under. I was confused and a little scared until he told me ‘That’s what flying feels like.’ I remember after that it became one of my favorite things: jumping off cliffs and into lava pools, the higher the better. I wanted to fly, just like any hatchling wants to grow up.
“I remember sitting at the mouth of our cave, watching grown dragons flying above or just circling the Dragonlands in a lazy kind of way, not really going anywhere. I guess Garble knew what I was thinking about and wishing for, because he picked me up, put me on his back, and started running around outside with me hanging onto his shoulders and he’d yell ‘You’re flying, kid! You’re flying!’ and I was all ‘I’m flying! I’m flying!’ And when he stopped, we were both laughing too hard to say anything else.
“Then one day, things started to change. Garble’s skin started breaking out in painful stone scales, he started having really impressive fire burps even for him, and he started smelling worse than the sulfur in the air. He told me that he had to go off because he was going through the Molt and he didn’t want to gross me out. I was OK with that, and I also knew that the Molt had happened to one or two members of his horde. I used to think that a dragon going off by themselves to go through the Molt was a biological thing. Later on, when I was off beyond the Dragonlands going through the Molt myself, I started to realize that maybe it was the horde’s way of self-preservation: by sending a Molting dragon away, they avoided being a target for predators themselves. I mean, I still thought of the biological explanation, but I’m not so sure about that anymore.
“Anyway, Garble eventually came back; he smelled like his old self and he had a sweet pair of wings. That gave me something to look forward to, even if it meant being away from the Dragonlands for a while. So even though I didn’t know what was going to happen, I still looked forward to the Molt and to going.
“Remember what I said about fighting being the dragon way? Well, I had to do my share of fighting during the Molt when a hydra showed up and tried to catch and eat me. I knew there was no reasoning with it; whatever kind of brain it had was fixed on dinner. So I did what Garble suggested when he came back: I found a shallow cave in a hillside where I could avoid being caught. I also learned to split any kind of attack between its two heads.
“I managed to stay one step ahead until I formed a cocoon of scales around my body. I don’t know how long it lasted but when I hatched out of that, it was with these wings right here! But there was something else: when I came back, the first thing I learned was that Ember was the new Dragon Lord. Which I thought was pretty cool. Then I headed for the nearest lava pool to wash the funk off me.
“Growing up, I remember when Torch was the Dragon Lord. He was big and loud and bossy, which didn’t surprise me. So I got a kick out of hearing that his daughter Ember was the new Dragon Lord. That lasted until she told me that Princess Twilight Sparkle had started a Friendship School and that I was expected to attend. As she put it: ‘as Dragon Lord, I'm ordering you to be there!’ I wasn’t too pleased with that, but I figured I wasn’t going to throw a fit or try to burn the place down either; dragons were better than that, after all. And since we all started here together, you know what happened after that. And that’s my life as a dragon, up until now.
“So now I want to talk about a death in the Dragonlands. Some of you may have heard that dragons live forever. That’s not true. That was something probably started by other dragons to intimidate creatures with shorter lives. Dragons live for hundreds of years, maybe longer, if nothing happens. But believe me: dragons die. They die as hatchlings who are devoured by predators. They die as young adult dragons who are careless. They die of old age, which usually means they go off by themselves and wait to die. It’s not something dragons talk about. See, dragons are proud, and that’s probably one reason why we don’t admit to the reality of death to other creatures or to each other.
“When I received a Call from the Dragon Lord a little while back, when I was this close to being kicked out of this school, Lord Ember told me that I was summoned by another dragon. Her name was Tinder, and she was the Dragon Matriarch of the horde. ‘Matriarch’ means ‘mother of dragons,’ not literally as in egg-laying but in a different way. Lord Ember told me that the Matriarch had a connection with almost all of the dragons who were hatched in our horde going back hundreds of years. And the Matriarch wanted to meet with me!
“Anyway, I met with the Matriarch in the heart of an old volcano where she had moved into to end her days. She was hundreds of years old, blind, and so big that four dragons my size could sit on her palm comfortably. But when I sat down on her palm, she cried out in pain because … because she … it was my pain! A pain bad enough, she said, to bring the whole mountain down on top of us. She explained what was happening inside me, which was good because I had no idea how to express it myself. She told me that I was at a crossroad: I could either remain the dragon I was, or I could go rogue.
“She helped me to see what was happening, and she told me a way to get past it. When you grow up dragon, you hear about ‘listening to your heartstring,’ which most dragons forget about or figure it’s just something from old stories for hatchlings. But the Matriarch told me that it was real and showed me how to listen to my own heartstring. It was something so simple when she told it to me, but it cleared my head. It made me realize the kind of feelings I was having and how to look past them. If I didn’t, she told me, I was in danger not only of forgetting myself, but forgetting my horde, my brother, my friends.
“When I got the second Call and flew back to the Dragonlands to attend the Matriarch’s funeral, Lord Ember told me that the Matriarch was at peace when she died. And she was at peace because, thanks to her, I was at peace. But let me tell you about what a dragon funeral looks like.
“By the time I got there, the volcano where she lived had been mostly sealed off by the Black Dragons. They’re called ‘Black Dragons’ but they’re really just 8 of the biggest and strongest dragons of the horde, whatever their color. They crush black volcanic rock to powder and cover their faces and claws with it.
“They started by bringing out the treasure horde of the dead dragon, and the Dragon Lord told the assembled dragons that if getting a share of the horde was the only reason they came, then they could just fight among themselves for their share and get out. I know that sounds kind of cold, but it weeded out something like half the dragons who had gathered.
“Then the Black Dragons flew into the volcano through the hole in the top, dug a hole through the floor to the lava pool beneath, and flew out. Then the waiting began while the interior of the volcano filled with lava and … and the body of the Matriarch was consumed. All but one part: her heartstring. You can’t destroy a dragon’s heartstring no matter what you do to it. And that’s what I was waiting for: the Matriarch’s heartstring to float up and out of the volcano on the rising lava. She had made me promise to fight for it. And since fighting is the dragon way, it wasn’t like Lord Ember could order the other dragons to let me claim it. I knew I’d have to fight for it.
“Long story short, even though I was the smallest dragon in the fight, I used that to my advantage, maneuvering out of harm’s way at the last second when a dragon was going to attack me. And after a lot of the dragons got beat up by each other, they figured that it wasn’t worth it. But it was worth it to me. So that’s how I got this.” She displayed the 4-strand necklace she wore. “As for why the heartstring is the only part of a dragon’s body that survives, there’s a whole story about it, called ‘Draco’s Legacy.’ Maybe I’ll tell it someday.”
Smolder turned over the last page in front of her and placed the stack on the teacher’s desk.
“That’s the end of my report, but there’s something I need to say before I end this presentation.
“When I heard Sandbar’s report on sea turtles, I immediately realized the similarity between sea turtles and dragons. And I wasn’t ready for that. See, dragons are proud, too proud to admit that they have anything in common with other creatures. Maybe that’s one of the reasons that dragon hordes isolate from other creatures, even other dragon hordes, I don’t know. Unfortunately, that means that the only time other creatures even see a dragon is when a rogue makes a home in a nearby cave. When Prof. Fluttershy spoke about a dragon who had established a den for itself outside Ponyville, I knew that she was talking about a rogue dragon. And unfortunately, if all you know about dragons comes from the way rogues behave, you think that all dragons act like rogues.
“That’s when I really started going downhill: lashing out, slashing that tapestry, threatening other students. That’s what happens when you believe that being a dragon means acting like a rogue. And even though part of me acted like that and I hated myself for being out of control, just knowing what was going on couldn’t stop me from acting like that. I mean, I grew up hearing dragons talking about other dragons and using the same words I heard other creatures using: Dragons are greedy, dragons are terrifying, they’re dangerous, they’re vain, thoughtless, loud, they eat ponies, they’re rude, they’re rebellious. I’ve heard all the words. I’ve said all the words! And when I hear them, I think of dragons they describe perfectly! And when that happens enough times, you get to think that that’s the only kind of dragon you can ever hope to be. And even when I heard other creatures talk about their pride – hippogriffs, griffons, yaks – when they talk about dragons being proud, they make it sound like another bad thing!
“Then I met the Matriarch. She was old, and blind, and close to dying, but she was also a dragon who was wise … and kind … and had the patience to deal with a mixed-up adolescent dragon. Even when I was at my worst, I tried not to let it show. But on the inside, I felt like I wasn’t flying so much as falling, blinded by fog, not knowing which way was up anymore or when I’d hit the ground. But she did help me, she helped me to find my way through the fog, to fly up and break out into open sky, and even though it was night I knew where I was because … because the sky was full of stars.
“The Matriarch did more than help me find some direction in my life, though she did that as well. She also showed me, whether she meant to or not, how to be a dragon, how to be a different dragon than just another rogue, than the dragons described by the words. And by remembering her …” Smolder paused and held onto the heartstring necklace. “… I want to be that kind of dragon.
“So, I want to apologize to everycreature here, especially those who I’ve threatened when I thought that that’s how a dragon is supposed to be. That’s not the kind of dragon I want to be anymore. I’m going to try to be a different dragon, like the Matriarch. I may not get it right every time, but even if you can’t understand me, I hope you can forgive me.
“Thank you.”
Smolder sighed, then started walking to the back of the room. She only made it a few steps, though, before Silverstream wrapped her arms around the dragon’s neck. “That speech was the most beautiful thing I ever heard!” she shouted.
“Thanks,” Smolder replied in a muffled voice. “You think you can let me breathe now?”
Silverstream let go and, as Smolder caught her breath, Yona lumbered forward.
“Smolder right: yaks proud. But if Yona proud of anything, Yona proud she know Smolder.” She then raised her head and looked Smolder in the eye. “Friend?”
“Friend,” Smolder said as she touched Yona’s forehead with her own.
“Hey.”
Smolder and Yona turned their heads to look at Gallus, sitting at an aisle desk. “What you said … that took courage.” He then raised a claw, clenched in a ball. Smolder smiled, and claw-bumped the griffon.
Then Sandbar stepped forward. “Smolder, I am so sorry for what I said. Had I known …”
“Hey, don’t be. I can’t blame you for the old junk I had in my head. I don’t blame you.” Then after a pause she added “Or the sea turtles!”
A light laughter rippled through the crowd, and only when it ended could another voice be heard: “Smolder?”
It was Ocellus. She stepped forward and stood before Smolder.
“I know that Thorax says I should stay in my true form. And I hope you’re not offended, but …”
Then in a blink, Ocellus assumed a different shape: that of a pumpkin orange dragon with purple highlights. Before anyone could say anything, Ocellus reached out and hugged Smolder, who after a second returned the hug. The others heard Ocellus say “Welcome back, Smolder” to which Smolder replied “Good to be back.” After a few more seconds, the two dragons separated, and Smolder asked: “Why didn’t you stay in your form?”
Ocellus blushed and said: “It’s easier to hug with these arms.”
***
Twilight Sparkle was a little unsettled as she walked down the halls of the Friendship School. It wasn’t because of the mood of the students; far from it. As word spread to those who hadn’t attended Smolder’s presentation, curiosity and apprehension gave way to relief and students began to congregate outside the classrooms. Then, they began to seek out Smolder herself, who began answering questions she never thought she’d be asked by the creatures of the school. Any kind of pretense of it being a normal school day evaporated well before lunchtime as Smolder found herself answering questions about dragons, both elementary and complex. It was repetitive, but Smolder answered all questions knowledgeably and with good humor. At another time, she might have put a menacing edge on her answers; that time had passed.
Twilight’s concern now was that the entire student body had decided to abandon the school routine as most of them sought out Smolder. She wandered the halls and passed empty classrooms. Turning a corner, she finally saw a room with an open door and light pouring into the hall. Looking inside, she realized that it was Rarity’s workroom, a circus of spools and skeins, of one fabric upon another in colorful chaos.
“Twilight, do come in!” she said as she studied a limp fabric on the workbench beside her. “What brings you here?”
“I mainly wanted to see if there was anypony else still in the school. If feels like the School of Friendship has been abandoned.”
“Au contraire, darling. The students may have taken the day off from classes, but from what I’ve heard the work of friendship is still very much alive!”
“How do you mean?”
“Look here,” she said as she inclined her head toward the fabric on the workbench. Twilight realized at once that it was a tapestry, donated to the School by Princesses Celestia and Luna, which had been mercilessly slashed to ribbons by Smolder in an act of vandalism that made Twilight feel that the dragon should probably be expelled.
“I know what this is, Rarity, but what does this have to do with friendship?”
“Everything, if you can look past the damage. Putting this tapestry back together is a serious challenge; it’s a good thing Smolder didn’t reduce it to ashes, though she very well might have. Anyway, this piece is a symbol of what the students here are doing.”
“What’s that?”
“Reweaving, Twilight. The damage to the poor thing is considerable, but I can see that with the right skills, this tapestry will be stronger and more fabulous than before! And that’s just what the students are doing in their own way: reweaving their own friendships not only with Smolder but with each other. And don’t worry about how long it will take; it may take a day, maybe two, but any shortcut in terms of time will compromise the strength of the fabric.”
“So, you’re saying I should …”
“Trust the students, darling. If they’ve been paying attention to the lessons, they’ll know what to do.”
“That’s … really impressive, Rarity. Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it. Now, there’s one patch here that absolutely cries out for a swatch of iridescent aquamarine, if only I can remember where I saw it last.”
***
The next day, the students were back in the routine of schoolwork, including Smolder. For her part, Twilight was willing to put the entire episode behind her. Starlight Glimmer, however, pulled her back into it at the faculty conference five days later.
“Twilight, I have a piece of old business I need you to clear up.”
“What?”
“Just before Smolder received the first Call of the Dragon Lord, you were about to announce a disciplinary measure against her. I’m just curious about what you had in mind. In case this happens again, you understand.”
“I’m hoping it doesn’t! But since you asked, I was going to send a letter of reprimand home to Smolder’s guardian.”
“That’s Dragon Lord Ember, isn’t it?” Rainbow Dash asked.
“Yes, it is. And I knew that in writing to her, I’d have to word the letter very … delicately. I held off actually drafting the letter when Smolder received the Call. And then when I heard Smolder’s presentation and heard that she was raised by a dragon who was just a child himself …”
“It’s kind of weird thinking of Garble as a hatchling,” Spike muttered.
“Anyway, after hearing about how complex dragon families are, I was just glad that the problem seems to have resolved itself after Smolder spoke to the Matriarch and I didn’t have to write the letter after all.”
“Just a question in passing, Twilight darling: does anypony object to Smolder wearing the dragon heartstring around her neck? I for one certainly don’t, and I don’t know Twilight’s rules well enough to say for certain.”
“Good point, Rarity. I could sense how much the Matriarch meant to Smolder, so I’m not one to make an issue of it. And I certainly haven’t heard anything negative from any of the other students.”
Twilight was interrupted by a knock at the door. “Yes?”
Smolder opened the door and looked inside. “Oh, if you’re busy, Headmare Twilight, I can come back.”
“Not at the moment. What can I do for you?”
Smolder opened the door further and walked inside. “Well, I wanted to talk to you about my paper.”
“Yes, and you received an excellent grade on it.” Twilight, hoping that Smolder hadn’t come to try and bump up her grade, left it at that.
“Yeah, not bad for a loathsome creature, huh?” She wiggled her talons in an exaggerated gesture of menace.
“Smolder, I am so sorry! That book is …”
“Hey, forget about it. It’s an old book with old ideas. Which I why I wanted to talk to you.”
“Oh?”
“Well, I know it’s not an ancient scroll or a book with hard covers, but I’d really appreciate it if you could find a space in the library horde for my paper. That way, if a student wants to read something about dragons, they can read something written by a dragon.”
“Smolder, it would be an honor to include your paper. And by the way, libraries have collections, not hordes.”
“Yeah, well, ‘horde’ is one of those go-to words in the Dragonlands when you want to describe a group of things: gemstones, clouds, other dragons. But I’ll keep what you said about ‘collections’ in mind.”
“Well, in order to include a work like that in the school library, the choice needs to be made by two faculty members. Does anypony else want to …”
“Right here, Twilight.”
“Applejack?”
“Ah was there when she read her report, and Ah could tell right away she was being as honest as the day is long. That’s good enough for me.”
“Well, I guess that’s it, Smolder. I’ll let you know when it’s ready for the shelf.”
“Thanks, Headmare Twilight.”
“It should really add to our understanding of dragons.”
“Yeah, well, it’s not like there are a lot of dragons who sit down and write about themselves.” Then, as if she’d run out of things to say, Smolder turned and headed for the door. That’s when Twilight spoke up again:
“You know, it only takes one dragon to change that.”
Smolder stopped in her tracks and turned around to look at Twilight, her eyes wide with realization.
Twilight smiled. “Just a thought.”
The End
PAUSE FOR BOURGEOIS LEGALITIES: This My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic fanfic is copyright 2022 by Daniel J. Drazen. The characters and situations are based on the MLP franchise as developed for television by Lauren Faust. Publication and distribution of this fanfic is rabidly encouraged, so long as you a) don’t try to assume credit for yourself, or b) try to make a buck off of it. This work is protected under the relevant provisions of Title 18 of the U. S. Code concerning copyright, and when you violate copyright, the terrorists win.