Flame rippled through the village. The heat distorted the air and smoke clogged houses and buildings. Ponies screamed in terror and fled, trying to run from the deadly flames. The dragon responsible for the flames flew overhead, burning any and everything in his path. His dark black scales glittered in the moonlight and flames, giving him an unearthly sheen.
A spark landed on one of the thatched roofs, causing it to ignite in a brazier of flame. Sparks cascaded from it, bring chaos and destruction. Some ponies tried to run, while others attempted to save what they could. The dragon did another swoop overhead, his cold scales glittering like the harsh stars in the sky.
“Run!” Yelled one voice. The dragon growled, then turned his gaze towards the source of the voice. A tall stallion was attempting to get ponies out of the way. Those fools, thieves and murderers. They could not escape his wrath. He flew towards them, breathing his glorious breath onto the ground. They fled in terror, while their leader attempted to get them to find something. A few ponies rushed into a burning building in an attempt to salvage a few belongings under their leader’s orders. The thatched roof caved in, bringing down a cascade of sparks. Yes, thought the dragon. Let them burn. Murderers did not deserve to live. Let them pay for the harm they had done.
“Fire!” A shout rang out from below. Stinging arrows rained against the dragon’s hide. Gnats, he thought angrily. Pesky, stinging gnats. Insects, nothing more than a mild distraction.Yet, even the dragon knew of the dangers of being ganged up upon, so he drew back into the air, out of the arrows range.
He circled overhead, trying to pinpoint what had drawn him here. He had felt it, heard it calling to him. It drew him liked a metal to a magnet. The dragon grinned. That wasn’t a half bad comparison. Magnets were, in a way, metals. He was metal himself. And if you take the magnet, you bring the metals as well.
A glint of light caught the dragon’s attention. A group of ponies, attempting to follow their leader’s orders. Together they carried a large box, which seemed quite heavy. The dragon snarled and went into a dive after his target.
The dragon yawned. His dark eyes roamed his cavern, as if searching for something. Stalactites hung from the ceiling, making creepy shadows across the walls and floor. Mounds of coins and treasure filled the cave, which the dragon used as his metallic bed.
He flicked his tongue in and out, tasting the air for a trace of- he winced- pony. He growled. So one had followed him. It was no more than he had feared, but far less than what he had hoped. Of course a pony would have followed him. They were murderers and cowards, thieves and killers. Their greed always got the best of them.
“Well?” His voice was a deep rumble, like an avalanche down a mountainside. “I know you followed me. Might as well drop the pretenses.” He scraped a languid claw across the cave floor, leaving deep ridges in the rocky ground.
“And if I don't want to ‘drop the pretenses,’ as you put it?” The reply was quiet, with a hint of deadly fierceness.
The dragon flicked his tongue out, focusing his gaze on the spot where the voice had come from. “Step forward. Hiding behind my hoard is not a way to avoid me.”
A clanking of metal could be heard, and a stallion stepped out from behind a pile of gold. He carried a bent sword, while cuts and bruises adorned the stallion’s body, a testament to what he had gone through to get here. A large burn mark deformed one side of his face, but it only made him look even more determined. The stallion aimed his sword at the dragon. “I’m not afraid of you.” The dragon raised an extremely scaly eyebrow.
“Ah,” the dragon remarked. “You. I figured someone must have followed me from that doomed village.” Although I didn’t think it would be the idiot who rallied the archers against me.
“It was only doomed because of you,” the stallion said. “It was your fault that you came and destroyed them and all they owned.”
“Was it now?” The dragon hissed, glaring at that reminder of the murderers whom he had destroyed. The scorched remains of a chest sat in one corner of the cave, its clasps bent and melted from the dragon’s breath. Coins spilled from it onto the ground, like a flood of riches. The stallion followed the dragon's gaze, and then took a step towards it. “Don't,” the dragon rumbled. “That is mine.”
“You stole it,” came the almost in-audible reply. “You killed a town of ponies, burned them, their homes, and their belongings, for a pile of treasure you will never use.” Unmistakable horror filled his voice, no matter how quiet he spoke.
The dragon closed his eyes for a moment before opening them. “Yes.” The word came out as a hiss. “It was my right.” It was mine anyway.
“It was your right?” the stallion asked incredulously. “It was your right to burn an entire village, to decide the fate of its inhabitants, to destroy generations of work?” He took another step towards the chest, reaching a tentative hoof for it.
The dragon stared at him a moment before repeating his previous answer. “Yes.” He licked his lips slowly, as if they were dry. “It was my right. Some say that the right to rule should come from the will of the people, that they should choose their own leaders. I disagree. Might makes right, and I have the most might out of anyone here. Besides, that treasure was mine anyway.”
The stallion took pause in his reach for the coins. “You think these are yours? We dug them from the earth, in an abandoned mine.”
“Now there is where you are wrong, Child of Symphony,” the dragon whispered. “Treasures of the earth were never the belongings of your kind. And what’s more, they did not come from any mine upon this land.”
“Child of…” The stallion trailed off. “Child of who now?”
The dragon smiled in an expression that looked far more like a sad grin than a smile. “Symphony. Creator of your race. She abandoned this world long ago. I am surprised you do not… Never mind, I digress.”
The stallions stared at the dragon for a moment. “That I do not know what?”
“It is not of your interest. Even if I told you, you would pass beyond this earth before you could tell the world more.” The dragon’s voice was almost forlorn, as if he regretted the short lifespan of his adversary. “Ponies live upon the earth and allow it to grow. The pegasi inhabit the air, preventing dangers from coming. Unicorns control the celestial realm, bringing forth day and night. However, ponies were never meant beneath the ground. That is the domain of my people.”
The stallion stared at the dragon. “It is the realm of your people? You kill us. You come into the land that is ours, burning our homes and destroying our crops. I highly doubt that your kind care about domains and territories.”
The dragon shook his scaly head. “We do care. It was your kind that violated that pact in the first place.”
“What pact?” The stallion frowned slightly.
“A pact as old as time itself,” the ancient serpent whispered. “Forged with the world itself. Your ancestors agreed to it, as did mine. We would not harm one another. We would live in peace. It was beautiful.” His voice took on a wistful tone, as if remembering summer days. But then his voice became darker. “Yet your forefathers were quick to forget the promises that their parents had forged. They broke it, and came after my kind. The unicorns came first. Their magic was used to forge weapons of war. The pegasi struck next.”
“If you haven’t noticed,” the stallion said indignantly. “I’m an earth pony, not a unicorn or pegasus.”
“Ah, but your kind was third and most devastating. You smashed the eggs of my kind, ending the next generation. You ponies breed like cockroaches under a rock, kill and hundred thousand of you and lose fifty of us, and you have ten hundred thousand ready for war before we even have another five eggs laid. You ended our existence. Our days are numbered, pony.” The dragon spat the words with as much vehemence as he could manage.
The stallion took a step back in surprise to the dragon’s anger. “Yet you retaliated. You came and killed hundreds of us.” The dragon heard the stallion’s voice rising and closed his eyes.
“Yes. We did. And we have spent years regretting that.”
The stallion paused at the serpent’s calm words. “Then why did you come to the village tonight?”
The dragon nodded his head towards a corner of the cave. “There.” The stallion did as ordered, heading towards the strange area. When he arrived, he pulled back in horror and revulsion. “Yes.” The whisper came out sadly, with years of regret and sadness behind it. “They killed her.”
Piles of bones and broken eggs littered the corner of the cave, reaching to the ceiling. Scales and broken gems littered the floor, piled in heaps and in mounds. “No,” the stallion murmured. “He said that he stumbled upon them. He never said…” He trailed off, unable to finish his statement.
The dragon nodded. “Yes. My litter and mate. Slaughtered for the gems they carried in their skin and shells. They came here in the dead of night and killed. I believe I was only left because I sleep under my treasure.”
“And the coins?”
“Food, for Chromium.” The dragon nodded the pile of bones. “I could not even burn her body, as is the custom among my people, for there wasn’t enough left to burn.”
The pony nodded, looking close to vomiting. His face was filled with anger and horror over what he had seen. “So you were telling the truth. You did come for a pile of treasure, but for one that meant more than a heap of coins.”
“Yes. I came for memories.”
The stallion nodded. “Is there anything…” He stopped speaking, seeming to realize that whatever he could do would be useless.
“There is not anything you could do, aside from leaving my presence.” The dragon waved a claw towards the exit.
“I do believe I could do that,” the stallion said quietly. Before he walked out of the cave, the stallion turned and asked a question. “What is your name?”
The dragon sighed. “Iron. And yours?”
That gave the stallion pause. “Cookie. Smart Cookie.” Then, Smart Cookie turned and walked back down the mountain. He walked down the mountain, leaving a sword, a chest full of coins, and a few thoughts behind for Iron. And Iron gave a bit for Cookie to think about as well. The idea that races could, perhaps live in peace. One day. Not today, but one day.
Author's Note
This story was written and typed in about five hours and over an IPhone, a laptop, and a desktop. I hope you enjoyed it. I like historical stories, and the setting for this story worked best back in medieval times.
