Everyone Needs a Friend, Sometimes
Because Everyone Needs a Friend, Sometimes
A cloak of darkness surrounded the mare as she delved deeper into the cavernous expanse before her, the clip-clopping of her hooves and the sound of her heavy breathing the only things that could be heard. It was the blackest of blacks, a kind of darkness most ponies couldn’t even imagine. A pony could go mad here, lost in a place where their thoughts drowned in the ineffable tides of darkness.
She hopped over a crack in the ground with the grace of a cat, landing silently on the other side— she had spent many months exploring these caves, mapping out every last twist and turn, memorizing each fissure and loose stone, familiarizing herself with the feeling of the ground as it changed from compacted dirt to hard stone the deeper she descended. She couldn’t make any light— a sudden glow in the undisturbed darkness of the eons-old cave was likely to awaken the foul creatures which rested within, making them angered at whoever it was that awoke them from their slumber.
She reached the bottom of the cave, the spot where her plans would take place— a large, echoing chamber, lower than any pony had ever been before. The air was stale and reeked of death; no doubt a desperate creature had crawled down here at some point or another, seeking refuge yet finding none. She silently dropped her saddlebags to the floor, resting them against a wickedly sharp stalagmite. The mare paused, taking a few deep breaths to calm her jittery nerves, and took out a piece of chalk.
The mare slowly walked in a circle, one, two, three times, memorizing the motions as she made them, trying to map out the perfect, flawless circle. On the third revolution she placed her chalk on the rough ground and dragged it along with her, creating a circle as she walked. When the task was complete, she returned to the spot she had started and placed the chalk on the ground once more. With a deep breath, she took five steps around the circle, tracing a straight line from the spot where she started to the spot where she finished. She then took five more steps around the circle, dragging the chalk in a straight line once more, and repeated that three more times, creating a pentagram of perfect proportion.
The mare briefly worried about her accuracy, but shoved the thought to the back of her mind. She had done it perfectly, she was sure, just as she had done it perfectly the hundreds of times she had practised it. Knowing this didn’t banish the niggling doubt in the back of her head. Absolute precision was required when the fate of your soul was hanging in the balance. She had to do it perfectly.
Five scented candles were placed on each point of the pentagram and lit, filling the air with the smell of poison joke. They let off an eerie blue glow, which only managed to illuminate the immediate area, failing to pierce the thick blackness of the cavern. The mare no longer worried about awakening the creatures of the cave— not even those beasts dared to delve as deep as she had.
Arcane runes and symbols were inscribed onto the ground by the mare, surrounding the pentagram and its candles. She continued drawing them until she reached the edge of the light, then returned the chalk to her saddlebags, replacing them in her magic aura with a curved obsidian blade, black as midnight, with an edge sharp enough to cut away light itself. Legend had it it was created by the sorcerer Starswirl the Bearded thousands of years ago, and was meant to cut apart beings from the spirit world. It was obtained in a Saddle Arabian marketplace by the mare, who doubted the tale, yet knew it didn’t matter. Whatever legacy may have surrounded the blade, its wicked edge was enough for the task at hoof.
The mare returned to the circle and stood in the middle, leaning down until her face rested on the cold, rough ground. She sung words in a long-dead, gutteral tongue, with notes vaguely reminiscent of a lullaby. The ground shook, dislodging rock and stone from the ceiling and causing it to fall down, coating the mare in a layer of dust. Then, slowly, carefully, the mare lifted the obsidian dagger as she continued singing and, with a look of fear in her eyes, plunged it deep into the ground.
But the ground was not the ground; the mare knew this, having chosen the cave she was in solely for this purpose. For when she plunged the blade into the floor, it shook once more and a stream of warm, crimson red blood squirted into the air, drenching the mare and the chalk lines she had drawn. On her first voyage to the cave, she had discovered the truth. This was not, in fact, a cave at all, but merely a burrow, occupied at its lowest by a long-forgotten creature— the First Dragon. Mother of its kind, Queen of the Dragons, and largest of them all. When the world was young and the pony gods yet unformed, she breathed life into a still world.
The beast stirred, but did not awaken, soothed by the lullaby that had been sung to it in its own language. The wound quickly scabbed over, and the mare attempted to wipe the blood off her face, to no avail— she was drenched in the sticky liquid, the taste of iron filling her mouth and the smell making her want to gag. She quickly put her mind off the matter and went back to work, for her work was far too important to allow such trivial distractions. The lives of herself and many others would be at risk if she did not complete her ritual with utter perfection.
A blast of lavender magic from her horn hit the blood-infused chalk, infusing it with the mare’s power and will, and it glowed in a pale purple light. It was ready. The mare uttered something under her breath, rising in volume until she was nearly screaming, the sound of her voice echoing through the cavern.
Aenur, the Dark One, I summon you!
Rise up from the depths which you inhabit,
Rise up from the pits of Hell, I command you!
The candles wavered, yet held on to life, causing the mare’s shadow to flicker and dance in the darkness. A black smoke rose from the chalk lines, slowly coalescing into a physical form: first a leg, then three more, followed by a torso, a tail, a pair of tattered wings, and finally, a head.
The beast before the mare was black, and its body was composed of smoke which swirled and moved within its body, as if his skin were merely a glass shell holding it all in. Tattered wings hung listlessly at its side, ending in serrated spikes. A row of razor-sharp teeth lined its mouth, from which a fiery orange light emanated, bathing the area in front of it in a burning glow. Its eyes were pinpricks of flame in the smoke, and its mane a fiery inferno. It spoke, its mouth unmoving, in a voice as deep as the pit in which they stood.
Who dares summon Aenur?
The mare stood defiantly in front of the demon, a look of confidence on her face and a small grin on her lips. She stepped closer to the beast, until her hooves stood on the edge of the circle which contained it. At this range, she could see the individual wisps of smoke that formed its body, writhing and coiling within it like a jumble of snakes frantically slithering over each other, desperate for escape.
“I am the Great and PowerfulTrixie!”
The beast let out a deep rumble— a chuckle, perhaps, but more likely a sound of derision.
Yes, you certainly are powerful, to have summoned one such as I.
The mare took the compliment in stride, knowing the demon’s tricks. It would get on her good side, make her believe it wanted to help her, and when she lowered her guard, it would strike, tearing her soul from her body and dragging it down into the burning pit it came from. It had taken the lives of many other unfortunate conjurers before her, and if she failed it would do the same to many more conjurers after her.
“Yes, Trixie did summon you and, as you’re no doubt aware by now, she also set up a ward, for she knows of the dangers you present!”
The beast growled a low, guttural sound that echoed in way her ears couldn’t have heard. It chilled Trixie to her very core, reminding her of the Ursa Minor she was powerless to stop, the creature that was banished by Twilight Sparkle.
You believe you can control me? What an amusing notion. You, the small, frail-bodied, weak minded mortal that you are? Better wizards than you have tried, yet none have succeeded.
The beast leaned closer to her, its snout touching the invisible barrier which was all that separated her from a gruesome death.
You will fail like the rest, and I will drag you down to Tartarus, damning you for all eternity.
Trixie had a sheen of sweat on her forehead, but she refused to let anything more show. It would take any sign of fear as weakness, and she couldn’t allow it to gain the upper hand on her. Not now, not after all she’d done. Her defeat at the hooves of Twilight Sparkle, the indignity of working at a rock farm, her second defeat from Sparkle, and the utter humiliation she felt when her rival became a princess while she stayed a down-on-her-luck magician was too much— another defeat not would be too much to bear.
“Trixie will control you. You’re wrong— She is powerful! She is determined! She’s been defeated too many times, she’s lost everything, and now it all comes down to this! If it takes every single fiber of her being to do so, she will control you!” With that, she fired a burst of magic at the invisible barrier, a trick she learned from a wise old elk on the top of the highest mountain in the loneliest reaches of Equestria. It dispersed across the barrier, making it momentarily visible. Small jolts of energy bombarded the demon from all angles, causing it to scream in rage and confusion, a horrific sound that grated against Trixie’s ears.
When the magical energies dissipated and the barrier became invisible once more, the beast looked up at its torturer, the flames in its eyes flaring up brighter.
You dare attack Aenur? You insolent pup, you insufferable wench! I’ll tear your soul in a thousand pieces, bit by bit, and revel in your screams!
The demon charged into the barrier, over and over, with enough force to splinter the bones of any mortal being, but it stood strong. Trixie grinned, seeing that she was getting under its skin.
“It looks like you need some more persuasion,” she threatened, unable to conceal the glee she felt at having such power over the abomination. She lowered her horn once more and fired a bolt of magic, bigger and brighter this time, once again hitting the barrier and frying the beast inside. It let out a scream which shook the cavern, awakening the beasts that slumbered above and sending them scurrying.
Trixie leered at the beast. “Are you ready to submit to Trixie?” she asked. “Are you willing to bow down to her great and powerful might?”
No! No! Never! You will rue the day you ever learned of me! I will shred apart all that you hold dear, and make you watch!
Trixie fired energy at it again, and again, and again, and each time she did, the beast repeated various obscenities and threats. The cycle continued for many hours, until Trixie laid down. Her sweat washed off the blood ages ago, and the beast had replied with a mere ‘no’ after the past several magical barrages. Yet her work never stopped. Finally, twelve hours after they had begun, when the pangs of hunger and the dryness of Trixie’s throat were almost unbearable, the beast relented.
I submit to your command...
Like magic, the hunger in her belly, the dryness of her throat, and the soreness of her horn all disappeared as her joy overshadowed them. She stood up on shaking legs, almost unable to believe that she had done it.
“Wha... what did you just say to Trixie?”
I submit to your command... I cannot bear this torture any longer. I will do as you say.
She had done it. The great demon, Aenur, knight of the underworld and slayer of gods, had relented to her. After all the months of studying, of practise, of endless nights of repeating the words she would have to know and the actions she would have to take, it had finally paid off. She had done what Twilight Sparkle hadn’t, and likely would be unable to.
She had won.
“Do you swear fealty to Trixie?” she asked it, not letting her guard down despite her joy. It nodded.
I do.
Trixie stood, unsure of what to do now that she had succeeded. Slowly, hesitating, she creeped up to the barrier and, with a swipe of her hoof, interrupted the circle and released the beast from its prison. It stood up and stretched, despite its lack of muscles and flesh.
What is your command?
Trixie didn’t respond, instead choosing to turn her back to the beast and make her way to her saddlebags, which were still leaning upon one of the First Dragon’s massive spikes, now covered with blood and dust. She rummaged through it.
Why?
Trixie stopped and cocked an eyebrow at the beast. “Pardon?”
Why did you do this? Why did you summon me? Why risk everything to gain me as a servant?
Trixie looked down. “Perhaps Trixie wanted to prove to somepony that she could.”
The beast nodded.
“Or perhaps she needed a friend.”
The beast scoffed.
“Trixie thinks you could use a friend, too.”
Friends are a hinderance. They will slow you down and prevent you from achieving your goals. What use have such powerful beings as we for friends?
A brief smile adorned Trixie’s face. “Trixie used to think like that, too,” she said, almost whispering, as though the topic saddened her. “Then she saw the power of friendship. It’s true, friends may prevent you from reaching some goals, but when a friend tries to stop you, maybe it’s because it wasn’t a goal worth having in the first place.” She looked up at the beast. “And even though they may stop you from achieving some things, you know a good friend will be there to help you fight for the things that matter.”
She rummaged through her bag some more, and pulled out a small chessboard and a bag of pieces.
“Now, do you want to be black or white?”
