Cold Fire

It was cold, so very cold. Or it should have been cold. Snow and ice drifted through the air on a gentle wind, only to join the vast wasteland of snow and ice when it eventually touched the ground. Lost Relic’s body was bare, his warm parka nowhere to be seen. Even as he shook ice off his auburn coat, he didn’t shiver.

Walking, he looked for something, anything to break up the endless wastes. The skyline was unyielding, devoid of sun or landmark. The Crystal Empire had reappeared somewhere in this eternal blizzard. Maybe if he looked hard enough he could find it.

Suddenly he fell, moments later landing in a fluffy drift of snow. It should have been dark where he was, but instead his body gave off a dim blue light, just barely showing him his hoof in front of his face. Standing up, he looked around.

He was back in the altar room. The pottery was intact, and the altar was clean. Everything looked nearly new. At the head of the room, the statue shifted, the stone creaking and cracking as it moved. It worked it’s jaw, and Lost Relic could begin to make out a quiet voice...

Lost Relic woke up in a cold sweat, the fibery tendrils of a nightmare just slipping from his mind. He tried to piece together where he was, his mind milling over the previous day. Suddenly, his bed jolted, and he rolled off it to a low crouch. The floor below him seemed unstable, shaking constantly and every now and then giving a sudden jolt.

Then it all clicked and he stood up, brushing himself off. He fumbled around in the blurry darkness, looking for his glasses. Finally finding them, he placed them upon his muzzle and adjusted them.

The world came into sharp focus. He was standing in one of the rooms of a sleeper car, rumbling along the rails. The place was cushy, velvet red walls highlighted by gold trim. The bed linens made of silk. His cousin was snoring softly in the upper bunk, every so often rolling around and giving the air a little kick.

It was also not entirely dark. The blue flame of his lantern blazed silently, bathing the room in it’s icy light. For the fourth time that night, Lost Relic tried twisting the gas valve into the off position, only to discover, once again, that it already was off. Despite the lack of fuel, the flame had in no way diminished since they had found it a week ago.

Sitting down before the flame, he pondered it. It was almost as it wasn’t a flame, but instead, the physical manifestation of something much greater. He didn’t know if that was something magic could do, let alone how to investigate such a matter. Letting out a soft sigh he dropped his head on the table the lantern sat on. It would have to wait until Canterlot.

He closed his eyes, and then it was day. The floor had stilled and sunlight streamed in through the windows. His cousin was gone, leaving his bed in a rumpled disarray.

Lost Relic rifled through his saddlebags before putting them on. They had been emptied of the various things needed to survive the frigid north. The relatively light load was mostly comprised of various books. An atlas, chock full of blank pages as was the style in the age of exploration, a beginner's guide to sketching still life images, his sketchbook, and a half eaten peanut butter cracker.

Hooking the lantern to his saddlebags, he stepped out of the room. The car was empty save for the conductor. Moving to the end of the car, Lost Relic called out to her, “Excuse me, why have we stopped?”

She turned to face him, rolling her eyes as if she had just gotten through answering the same question a thousand times over. “We’re refueling and picking up some cargo. The train’ll be leaving in an hour. Sharp.”

“Alrighty then, I’ll be back.” He pushed past the conductor, and out onto the platform. The last of a crowd could be seen fading away, evidently he had not awoken as late as he had thought. The train station stood just at the edge of the town, and just at the edge of the large shadow cast over it’s entirety.

Looking up, he saw the sprawling cloudscape of Cloudsdale high above, and a bit to the east. Perfectly blocking the midmorning sun. Even from this distance he could see pegasi flitting around like tiny hummingbirds, and a steady stream of weather being pumped out into the atmosphere.

Glancing around at the nearly dead station, his eyes landed on the only other pony still left. A mare sat on one of a few benches, her dull green eyes scanning a newspaper.

Walking over, Lost Relic called out, “Excuse me!” She glanced up, and now at a more reasonable distance, Lost Relic continued, “Do you happen to know where I am?”

“Undertown,” she replied, looking back to her newspaper. Reaching into his bags, Lost Relic began to pull out his atlas. She interrupted him with a wave of her hoof. “Don’t bother it won’t show up on anything other than a local map. It’s technically a district of Cloudsdale. More of a port than a town, really.”

“Ah,” Lost Relic said, “Is there anything to do for an hour?”

The mare set her newspaper down, looking him in the eye for a moment, before picking it back up. “No, not really.”

Lost Relic’s front hooves shifted nervously. “Oh, umm. Okay then.” With a burst of jittery volume, added, “I’ve got to go find my cousin, nice talking with you.” He couldn’t be off the platform any faster, and set off at a swift canter. Following the road into town, he noticed a sharp drop in temperature upon crossing into the shadow. What had once been a warm Spring’s day, developed a chilly nip. He wondered if Cloudsdale blocked the sun all day.

The streets of Undertown were winding, and packed with as many storehouses as there were pony houses. It wasn’t dark enough for the few streetlamps to be lit, but Lost Relic almost wished they were. In the semi-darkness, the bright blue flame of his lantern drew more than one gaze, and not all of the eyes that met his were friendly.

Finally, he came to a little slice of warmth in the chilly town. It was a small tavern, but it was rowdy, smelly, and almost certainly where Brazen Hoof had wandered off to. The stallion seemed to have an unhealthy obsession with spending his free time in taverns. The adventurer’s guild halls, he had called them. Lost Relic had seen real guild halls in Canterlot. Taverns compared in no way whatsoever.

Still, he pushed the door open and walked in. The floorboards themselves seemed to smell of sweat and vomit, and the crowd ahead of him wasn’t helping any. Everypony seemed to be gathered around a group of tables, erupting in gasps and guffaws regularly. At the center of the crowd, standing up above on one of the tables was Brazen Hoof.

Holding an empty mug of something, he was walking back and forth making grand gestures as he told a story. “And that’s when the bear made his first mistake. Flapping my two broken wings I manage to get enough lift to launch myself over him! It was to no avail though, my hooves were inches from freedom when I felt the beast’s terrible claws wrapping around me once again.”

Lost Relic sighed, there was no way his cousin would be done in two hours, let alone however much was left of their one. He could ditch him, make his way to Canterlot on the train in peace, but he wouldn’t. He would just have to wait, and reel his cousin out of whatever fantasy world he had woven when it was time to go.

Taking a seat in a far corner of the room, Lost Relic leaned back and lost himself to the noise of the crowd. They were enthralled in his cousin’s tale, as usual when he really got going. He had a knack for charisma, and that really showed.

Growing up Lost Relic had always looked forward to Brazen Hoof’s stories. To be told the latest grand adventure his mysterious older cousin had been on. He would never admit it, but when he finally figured out it was all fantasy, he hadn’t want to believe it. Somewhere it had hurt him, to see this larger than life figure crashing down and becoming a pony just like him.

Grandmother had pushed Brazen Hoof towards a career as an author, but it hadn’t worked out. It was clear to anyone that had actually heard one of his tales, that it didn’t translate well to paper. It lost any charm it once had and just became another cliche collection of words.

“You with him?” A voice asked, next to Lost Relic. Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he turned to look at the speaker. She was a short unicorn mare, her off white coat broken up by a patchwork of dirt. Her dark blue eyes darted around, refusing to meet his.

“Yeah, he’s my cousin. How did you-”

“Because you’re the only pony not absolutely in love with him,” she interrupted.

“You’re not-” Lost Relic spoke before being interrupted again.

“Well obviously I’m not with him. I mean seriously, do I look like I’m with him.” She paused for a moment, scanning the room once again. “Look, there’s something I need to tell you, meet me out back.”

Lost Relic took his eyes off the mare to search of the back exit, but when he turned back she was already gone. Getting up off the chair, he tightened the straps on his saddlebags. He walked up to the bartender, who was just as distracted by his cousin’s story as everypony else. Clearing his throat he asked, “Excuse me, is there a back exit?”

The bartender looked at him oddly before pointing to a door in the corner. Thanking him, Lost Relic walked over to the door. Pushing it open, he found himself in an alley, once again enveloped in the bright blue light his lantern cut into the shadows.

“Alright, hand over the lamp,” the mare spoke from behind Lost Relic. Jumping in surprise he turned to face her. She was standing before the door where he had been moments before, a shimmer of malice in her eyes.

Backing up slowly, it wasn’t long before Lost Relic felt the rough, cool bricks of the building behind him pressing against his rump. He looked to either side of the alleyway, only to have his last hope of an escape be taken by a shadowy figure at either end. “What happened to having something to tell me?”

Smirking, the mare advanced on him, forcing himself to press against the wall. “I did tell you something. I told you to hand over the lamp.”

Lost Relic adjusted his glasses. There was no way he was handing over the archeological find of the century, but there was also no way he could beat the mare in a fight. Despite her diminutive stature, her body rippled with muscles, and he didn’t like the point on her horn being inches from his face. Lost Relic took a shot in the dark. “What if I don’t want to hand over the lantern?”

The mare backed off slightly, a look of mock surprise cross her face. “While that changes everything then.” Laughing nervously, Lost Relic began to shuffle away before being stopped by the mare’s piercing glare. “Give me the lamp.”

“Why would you want this silly old lantern, anyways? It’s not like it’s worth anything.” Lost Relic tried his hardest at bluffing. His woefully inadequate hardest.

The mare’s tail flicked irritably. “Am I talking to an idiot? It’s glowing freakin’ blue! There’s no way I can’t sell that for a metric ton of bits.” There was a thud on the door behind the mare, and she jumped, startled. Muttering something nasty under her breath, she made a move at the lantern, her horn sparking.

Wrapping it in a lemony telekinetic haze, she lifted it into the air, and took off down the alleyway. Just a few hoofsteps away, she shouted, stumbling and dropping the lantern. Turning back to grab it, Lost Relic could see a thin coating of frost on her horn. The door burst open, and Brazen Hoof stumbled out, catching the mare’s panicked eyes.

Shaking her head, the mare left the lantern and ran. The shadowy figure at her end of the alleyway flickered and faded as she passed through it. Then, she was gone. Trotting over to the lantern, Lost Relic picked the handle up in his mouth, and hooked it back onto his saddlebags.

“What was that all about, cuzz?” Brazen Hoof asked.

Lost Relic thought for a moment, trying to find the best words to describe his recent experience. “She was trying to mug me!”

Brazen Hoof rolled his eyes, walking back into the bar with his cousin in tow. “I know that. What was with the frost on her horn though?”

“I don’t know,” Lost Relic replied, his anger sputtering and fading, “It happened when she picked up the lantern with her telekinesis.”

Dancing on his hooves, his cousin let out an excited shout, briefly drawing in the attention of a few ponies. “I knew the fire was magic! I knew it.”

“We already knew the fire was magic,” Lost Relic deadpanned. It didn’t matter that he had spent almost the entire return trip failing to figure out how the flame was magic, it’s startling difference from that of a normal flame clearly marked it as something magical.

“Ugh, you’re no fun.” Brazen Hoof walked through the room, a few excited glances being tossed his way at the hopes of him telling another story.

Holding the front door open, Lost Relic nudged his cousin, “We should probably be getting back to the train now. We’ve been here for a while.”

Brazen Hoof and the steadily reforming crowd groaned collectively. “Fiiiiiiiine.”

Leaving the bar, the two set off for the train station and for Canterlot. It wasn’t as cold leaving Undertown as it was going in, and Lost Relic briefly pondered if the lantern was to blame. He dismissed the thought as a warming patch of sunlight crossed over his body. It was probably just the early afternoon sun cresting the top of Cloudsdale and bathing Undertown in it’s brilliant light.

The terrible screech of metal grinding on metal filled the room as the floor bucked Lost Relic high into the air. Tumbling through space head over hooves, the world seemed to slow down. His screams were added to those of the protesting train, before finally it’s abrupt halt came to an abrupt end.

Slamming into the wall with a dull thud, his screams came to a surprised end. Moaning he began to stand, only to leap upright at the sound of hooves clattering to the ground next to him. Brazen Hoof was rearing up, a stupid grin plastered across his face. He was sheathed in the sunlight from the setting sun through the window, and his wings flared leaving dappled shadows across the walls.

Blocking the door, Lost Relic shouted, “Where do you think you’re going?” His breaths each came with a dull pain. He had no idea if it was from an injury, or just shock, but Lost Relic wasn’t intent on putting himself in any more danger.

Brazen Hoof laughed. “I’m going to find whatever caused this. Then I’m going to fight it!”

Lost Relic groaned inwardly. This was it, his cousin had finally gone completely insane. “What if there’s nothing to fight. The train could have very well stopped because a bridge was out.”

Rolling his eyes, Brazen Hoof tried to push past his cousin. “Oh please. There’s no way this isn’t bandits or something of the sort. Besides,” he said with a snide grin, “You wouldn’t be blocking the door if you thought a bridge was out.”

Lost Relic adjusted his glasses. “Fine, you can go fight the bandits or whatever. Just leave me out of it.” Stepping away from the door, it was mere seconds before his cousin was out and the door was slammed tightly shut again.

Sitting down, the first moment of his time alone was peaceful and woefully short. It wasn’t long before guilt began to gnaw at him. He had let his cousin go off on his own. He would probably get seriously injured, or worse. His grandmother would be pissed.

Lost Relic took slow, measured breaths, and adjusted his glasses. His cousin would be fine, at most he would get in the way of the train security. After all, bandits weren’t some unstoppable force of nature. They were just ponies.

Suddenly, the room was bathed in darkness. Lost Relic looked to the window, and was rendered speechless. Moving past the train was a wall of scales, icy blue with a dappling of pure white. It seemed to go on forever, until finally a tail spiked with icicle like protrusions flashed past the window. Lost Relic adjusted his glasses. Dragons were not ponies, dragons were an unstoppable force of nature.

Throwing on his saddlebags and hooking the lantern onto it over his flank, Lost Relic tried to calm his hammering heart. He would find Brazen Hoof, and they would run. They would run until the moon rose, and then some.

The car outside his room was in chaos. Screams filled the air as ponies ran, crashing into each other and the walls in their blind panic. Picking a direction, Lost Relic started pushing his way to the front of the train. He could feel his mind straddling the divide between sharp lucidity and the primal urge to run. The scales tipping unfavorably to the right with every jostle of the crowd. After an eternity, he came to the end of the car.

Stepping outside between his car and the next, he saw a ladder and sighed. There was no way his featherbrain of a cousin had not chosen to climb on top of the still train. Hooking one hoof over the first rung he began to pull himself up. His bags weighed at him, causing the ladder to dig into his forelegs.

As he hooked his hoof around each rung, he wondered who ever thought ladders were a good idea. The only way to grip them cut straight into a joint, and for his rather unmuscular body, it was quite painful. Step ladders he could see. They had nice flat bits to place your hooves on, but round rungs were a little ridiculous.

With one final pull, he scrambled onto the roof of the car. Shaking his hooves out he began to scan the cars ahead, and the sky for Brazen Hoof. It didn’t take long. The massive serpentine dragon he was flying around made it exceedingly obvious where he was.

Lost Relic took off down the train to where the dragon had made it’s perch, every so often, leaping over the gaps between the cards. The dragon was a like a long serpent, with shimmering blue scales, every so often interrupted by a dull patch of paper white. He had never seen a dragon like it in person, and had only seen it elsewhere a week ago, at the frozen ruins. No, actually, he had seen it that morning, in a dream.

He tried to recall his dream as he made the last leg of his journey down the train, but his memory was frustratingly obtuse. He remember the statue of the dragon moving, and it might have spoken. Also, he glowed? Lost Relic’s train of thought derailed as he came to the end of the very real train.

The dragon was as occupied with Brazen Hoof has he was with it. Swiping at the air with his impressive talons an whipping it’s tale with a resounding crack. For a dragon though, there was surprisingly little fire, and without it, Brazen Hoof was able to keep ahead of it, but only just.

The green pegasus’s previous ineptitude at flight had vanished. Adrenalin thundered through his veins and the thrill of pure, unadulterated adventure filled his mind, drowning out the bad flight habits he had learned and leaving only instinct behind. He could feel each of the dragon’s claws in the air currents before they could hit him, and with spiraling rolls and strong flaps of his wings he avoided each attack.

Evasion was all he could manage though. Every attempt he made at getting closer to the dragon lead to a dangerously close encounter with it’s vicious jaws, and even if he could manage to strike it, he doubted that he could leave so much as a dent in it’s glistening scales.

As Brazen Hoof’s muscles began to burn, and more and more cold beads of sweat spun off him into the roaring air, he could almost see Lost Relic telling him to run. To do the sensible thing. No, he realized as he made another circle around the dragon, another claw tearing through the air only inches from him, he could see Lost Relic, yelling at him from the end of the train and waving his hooves around.

He strained his ears to make out what his distressed cousin was saying, but gave up after a few seconds of howling wind. It didn’t matter anyways, he almost certainly knew what the pony was trying to tell him. Sighing, he took one last pass at the dragon before circling quickly to the top of the train. His hoofs hit the roof of the train with hollow thuds and he had to run to a slow halt to stop from falling over.

Lost Relic was paralyzed with fear. Lacking the annoyance of his cousin, the dragon’s piercing gaze had settled on him. It lowered it’s head and a good portion of it’s body, bringing it’s claws down on the end of the train and leaving an impressive dent for each one. It paused there for a moment, it’s eyes darting across Lost Relic’s body before settling on something.

Then it began to speak. Unintelligible nonsense yes, but it was clear that it was saying something. Even without understanding a word, Lost Relic could feel the menacing quality in it. It was in the drawn out syllables, and the growling of it’s voice.

The dragon could tell it had it’s prey cornered by it’s own fears. He could see the little pony’s body quiver and muscles tense uselessly. It slowly raised a clawed hand. It could take it’s time, it’s prey wasn’t going anywhere. Then with a loud chuckle, it swung it’s claws down, raking them across the train where the pony stood.

Lost Relic was dead. He could feel his limp body held in the fore hoofs of an alicorn, carrying him off to the afterlife. He let out a giddy laugh and nuzzled the alicorn’s chest, a small smile spreading across his lifeless face.

“You alright there, cuzz? You seem a little… Bubbly?”

Lost Relic snapped back to reality and screamed, jerking his muzzle away from his cousin. His sudden movements almost caused Brazen Hoof to drop him. To drop him to the distant ground. Lost Relic tried to avoid looking down, but it was impossible, as he was already looking down. He could feel the steady tug of gravity threatening to pull him down with every passing second. To splatter him across the ground below.

Brazen Hoof glided through the air, nearly a thousand feet up, and a thousand feet away from the, no doubt confused, dragon. Below him a large swath of forest stretched out, the trees flowering and aflame with the sunset.

His cousin’s terrified breaths calmed minutely before he spoke, “We need to land.”

Brazen Hoof smirked, “Are you sure you’re not just afraid of heights, cuzz?”

Lost Relic’s breathing increased at the mention of heights, and it was minutes before he steeled himself enough to answer, “No. Well, I am afraid of heights, but we still need to land. The dragon will probably spot us if we spend too much time up here.”

Brazen Hoof paused for a moment, his cousin actually had a good point. He chuckled menacingly, before slowly tipping forwards into a steep dive.

Lost Relic screamed. They were falling. They were going to die. The ground got closer and closer, filling his vision and his mind. Then, inches from being skewered on a skyward branch, they leveled out and slowly circled the rest of the way to the ground.

Lost Relic trembled on the forest floor. He tried to adjust his glasses, but he couldn’t get his hoof to stay still long enough to. His breathing was shallow and fast, and he could feel his heart pounding away in his chest. Blood thundered in his ears drowning out everything else. Hours must have passed before he finally pulled himself together and came to a stand.

Brazen Hoof set his cousin down to the ground. White petals spiraled down from the canopy above, lit orange in the dying light of the sun. It would be a day or two tops before the trees were bare again save for buds that would spring out into leaves. Canterlot sat on the horizon, the same sunlight painting it’s white walls a brilliant orange.

Lost Relic pushed himself upright, adjusting his glasses. He must have spent whole minutes lying on the ground whimpering to himself. Brazen Hoof smiled wryly. “Now that you’re done having your fit, what’s next on the agenda.”

Frustration flashed across Lost Relic’s face before he replied. “I would say...” he paused, looking around, “We need to find shelter, the sun’s almost set.” His eyes settling on Canterlot, he appended, “We’ll make our way to Canterlot in the morning.”