Wings Over Sunset

“I don’t care if you completely ignore anything else I have ever said about anything. Never submit before a dragon. Even death is better.”

The forest weeped above Shimmer as he plunged through the mud below. His bone-forged carapace armour rebuffed most of the skies endless tears, but some of the moisture seeped through the parts where the grey matter slid over one another, bringing the full fury of winter’s coldness with it.

Shimmer gritted his teeth as the mud tried its best to hold him back as if protecting something just beyond. He hoped it was true, that there was a light at the end of this dark, frozen hell. It was the only thing that stopped all those traitorous doubts from circulating his mind.

He would not give up. He would not wait for a break in the weather. He would be the first to find the lost treasure of the Bottomless Bog.

He bit into the torch as a particularly cold drop made its way over his shoulder and down his belly, and concentrated on the brief respite as the struggling flame flickered his way. He continued trudging through the mud, feeling it clench against his skin, and stealing away any lingering heat and leaving a terrifying numbness.

Despite the cold, he chuckled to himself. The Daring Do books never mentioned the sheer drudgery of travelling. At least the trees were all evergreen; he did not dare to think what it would be like otherwise.

“All in a day’s work,” he said to nothing in particular. Yes, that was right. He had faced worse. There was no way a little cold was going to kill him.

Strength returned to his stride, and the mud lost its grip on him.

After a few moment’s rest to consult his map, Shimmer found what he was looking for. A clearing the size of at least half of the Appleoosian desert spanned in front of him, revealing the grand building, nay, temple that jutted up from the centre as if it had risen from the earth itself. The forest had tried reclaiming this land, but the trees did not take root, and the flowers were sparse and sickly.

This was a Dragon Nest, and, by the looks of the Temple, a Powerful one at that. Shimmer took one step into the unusually flat ring and almost stumbled when something firm clanked against his hoof.

Solid ground. Holy Celestia, it could not possibly be true!

Shimmer laughed as his mud crusted hoof tapped the surface. Oh, how much he had missed walking unhindered. Even the rain and the cold could not stop the tears beading in his eyes as he scrambled onto the inviting surface. And it was warm! The old stallion at the Inn was right. This place was unspoiled and in great condition.

Shimmer could not hold back the laugh any longer, and he fell onto his back, daring the rain to ruin his spirit. This place was untouched. Even the enchantments still worked. He could almost taste the welcoming metallic zest of the fortune this place was going to make him.

But how was he going to make this all…his? He could not just put it all into his saddle bags as the weather, combined with the armour he wore underneath, had ruined the straps. He would have to make camp for a few days, find the best bits, and then fight for the rest. Maybe, if he was lucky, there was that one priceless item that would make him rich and famous. And maybe, that one item would be so precious that he would have his own series of books that trumped that of Daring Do. How could she go through all of that just to give it to a museum? What was the point?

But, as the cold penetrated through the illusion of warmth he created for himself and made his knees clack together, he realised that that was a problem for another time.

He reached around, placed his torch into a strap at his side so that the flame still lit his way, and brought out his machete. Although the forest had not claimed the rocky ground -or was it…glassy?-it had certainly claimed the temple itself. The blocky, flat creation reminded him of a castle without its towers but the walls, although ancient, survived with by the magics magics not crafted by Pony horns. There was a smoothness to it, like each, huge block was exactly where it wanted and needed to be that typified Dragonic structures. Ponies could break and shape stone, and then place one upon the other, but they always looked like bricks. This was more like it came up from the ground itself, preformed and ready for its ancient occupants.

Weeds and vines fell before his blade as he hacked into the main doorway, or passage way, since it would take him a good few seconds to gallop from one side to another. He breathed in the warm air laden heavy with dust that tickled his nostrils. It reminded him of vast plains and open skies, which surprised him as a cave could not be any more different from the vast savannah he once grew up in. But that was to be expected, this was a Dragon’s lair, and their magic is subtle, unless you believed the stories where they could conjure fire from their mouths.

He shed his saddle pack and his armour, and winced as the savage crack of bone on stone echoed around him and deeper into the gaping maw of blackness that lied before him. He shook himself dry and let the shivers pass into a warm, soothing state of calmness as if he had just wrapped himself in a large blanket. He set up camp, using the remnants of firewood that his saddle pack saved from the rain to dry out his roll mat and his saddle pack.

Free of his burden, Shimmer felt as light as a Pegasus, and the odd sense of weightlessness put a large smile on his face. He had found the lost Temple. He was an adventurer, a pioneer, a success after oh so many failures. And he needed to see his prize.

There were many Pony-sized doorways leading off from the vast and empty corridor. This did not surprise Shimmer in the slightest. It was known that Dragons kept slaves. In fact, the stories said that dragons saw their slaves as part of their hoard, and actually treated them relatively well, unlike the Pony warlords of old. The corridors all led to small antechambers, where broken ruins of bunks and hammocks lay. Shimmer routed through the splinters and the dirt, and found some old-style bits –coins marked with the head of a particularly fierce looking dragon— that would fetch a good price at a market. He carried the bits back to the campfire in batches, and realised that half an hours worked had earned him a sizeable pile.

He donned his now dry armour and turned to face the great void standing before him. He held the torch in his teeth, and with a barely contained trot, set off into the darkness. His pulse quickened as the fire illuminated the carvings in the wall. It depicted dragons…not one but hundreds, flying in the skies, burning villages (so they DID breathe fire!), and sending the pony peasantry into fleeing. There were also Dragons facing Gryphons, their angular forms carved into depictions of battle eternal, their faces all snarls of hate. But, most notably, every single Dragon seemed to be carrying something. Loot. These Dragons were taking everything, from cattle, to money, to ponies and Gryphons themselves. This wall felt less like a picture and more like a story. Oh, the historians would murder each other to get their hooves on this!

Shimmer made his way down the hall, listening to the echoes of his hooffalls cascade into one another.  A gentle slant guided him downwards until a pressure pressed on his ears, creating a low pitched hum that unnerved him. How deep was this cave? The shadows danced around him as regular puffs of air tugged at the flame. He checked the antechambers, torch in its holster and machete in mouth, but found nothing. He shook his head. He was alone. This place had been abandoned for centuries, how could somepony be watching him?

“Eyes on the prize, Shimmer,” he muttered to himself. “There’s nothing here but ashes and treasure.” He returned to the main hallway, which had only gotten larger as he descended, and began swinging his blade in quick sweeping motions. His fur felt practically on end. It was like he had walked into the maw of some great monster, and its breath, warm and musty, was what was batting against him, warning him to retreat and never come back.

But Shimmer forced himself onwards. He had come too far to leave with nothing. He was going to bag a prize and return victorious. Then, maybe, he could get recognition from the Royals. Maybe then he would not have to live his life in rags, fighting somepony else’s pointless battles to earn enough to eat. He would prove to King Sombra himself that he deserved the Royal Favour.

His neck limbered up and his heart rate calmed as Shimmer went through the basic drills with his blade. As he walked, he lost himself in the familiar routines of the slashes, thrusts, hops, and rolls that made a good mercenary a force of nature. As the slope plateaued out, Shimmer felt ready for anything. And that would be useful, as his instincts screamed that was all wrong: The bursts of air came too regularly to be coincidence, and that rumble through the floor was no feat of nature. He brushed back his mane and tied it into a ponytail with a piece of cord. So, somepony had found this before him. But could they stop him from taking it?

Darkness overwhelmed Shimmer as the corridor opened up into almost complete nothingness. Only a few pillars, stretching into the great void of black above, reflected his torchlight. Claw marks preceded him, forming a path where none should be. Sounds echoed all around Shimmer. Was that the sound of water, or hoof on stone? Was that the hiss of air, or an unsheathed weapon? Shimmer attention jerked left. Did he just see a hoof dart behind that pillar?

He had no cover, and that made him feel vulnerable. It was as if the unknown shadows were watching his every move and laughing at fear. He made a decision, right then: throw caution to the wind. He burst into a frantic canter, looking this way and that, and almost blinded himself with the torches reflection off his machete.

But, when the shady claws of darkness had a grip on his sanity, a soft glow beckoned him forwards. He kept close to the pillars, barely noticing the elaborate carvings etched upon each one, and darted between them. The ground sparkled as the soft orange glow pushed back the darkness and revealed to Shimmer just how vast this cave was. A Pegasus would have to fly a good few seconds before he could reach the ceiling, and all around him, pillars surrounded a pit that could fit an entire lake. There were no cracks or fissures in the rock surrounding the pit; it would have taken a huge amount of care and attention to carve out a hole that large without damaging the structure around it.  Shimmer leaned over the edge and gasped. He took a few steps back, fell onto his rump and scrambled further back.

A dragon. A fully fledged, real life, not a corpse, dragon slept in the centre of a mound of gold and gems and whatnot.

He controlled his breathing and unstrapped the torch. With those magical orbs lighting the pit, there was no need for it. But what could he do. His fortune was just one descent away, but upon it sat a creature that by rights, should be extinct. His heart thundered. There was no way he was going back empty-hooved. If he could not pay the fine…

He gritted his teeth and forced himself upon his hooves. He could steal from a Dragon. Besides, it was probably dead…maybe magic had preserved its body? He began his journey down slabs that jutted out the wall of the pit to form a rough staircase. He did not fail to notice the huge gouges cut out the ends as if something large and heavy had used them as a paw-hold.

But his eyes never left the creature coiled upon itself in the centre of the room. The thing’s head looked larger than Shimmer, and spotting those pointy fangs made him stumble over the next step. Leather wings covered most of its blood red form as if it were a blanket, but he could still see the blades it called claws sink into the treasure underneath.

Shimmer controlled his breathing. It was not a time to panic. He took a careful step, then another, until he was at the base of the pit…and completely unable to escape if that thing woke up. If only he were a Pegasus; wings would come in useful right now. Or even a unicorn’s horn. Magic would always help. But no, he was an Earth Pony, and his strength meant nothing.

Just don’t wake it up, he thought. He hugged the wall, and jumped as a lance of heat jolted up his back. It was hot! He ignored the sweat beading down his face in favour of keeping both eyes on the dragon. He manoeuvred until he was behind the creature, and stepped towards it. His eyes scanned the wealth glittering before him. Never before had he seen so many gems in one place. Sapphires, rubies, emeralds…they were all shining in prismatic colour amongst piles upon piles of bits. Even weapons, from pony-forged swords to great lumps of metal designed for dragons –he gulped—lay there.

He picked up the first gem he saw, a brilliant sapphire glowing with unspent magical energy, and quickly placed it into his saddlebag. He hurried through the piles, stepping softly on the mounds of gold as he gathered another shining gem in his mouth.

The tail twitched.

Shimmer froze in place, eyes wide and staring at the great bulk mere metres from him. “Please, please go back to sleep,” he whispered.

The dragon released a long drawn breath. Its form deflated as it emptied its great lungs. It took in a breath, a slow, noisy affair that left Shimmer shivering. Was it waking? He did not know, but his legs were frozen on the spot. Not even his years as a mercenary helped ease his fear.

A minute passed of complete nothingness. Shimmer released his own breath and commanded his shaky legs off the pile. He had tried his luck for long enough. Besides, what sat in his half-full bags was more than enough to earn him a place in the High District as a minor noble. He slunk over the last pile and crept back up towards the less cluttered walls.

And that was when he saw the brightest, endlessly swirling, awe-inspiring gem he had ever laid eyes upon. It was like a smouldering bit of coal that sparkled. It was…it was…it was exactly what he was looking for. For the second time, he crept towards and directly in front of the dragon. The gem was on a pedestal mere inches from the creature’s face. One of its arms surrounded it, as if it were trying to hug it in slumber.

Shimmer gulped. He knew he should just leave and never mention this place again…but that gem…it spoke to him. Somehow, he knew it wanted him to take it. Because, Shimmer thought, this is the moment that writes the songs. I will steal from under the dragon’s nose, and then I will have it all.

And he knew it. With that gem, he would be unstoppable. He would be all powerful. Even Sombra would bend a hoof towards him, because he was a hero in the making…a real, live Daring Do.

Shimmer crawled up to the pedestal, tearing his gaze away from his prize to scan the dragon’s face. It looked like it would have no problem devouring him completely. He shivered and reached out a hoof towards the pedestal. He snatched it and threw it into the saddlebag in one motion. Immediately, he knew something was wrong.

Instincts flared and he bounded up the staircase two steps at a time. His heart raced. Something was terribly, terribly wrong. And then he heard the sound of tinkling coins. The claw had moved! A low rumbling filled his ears and the top of the pits burst with crimson light. Magic surrounded Shimmer as he ran. He felt the heat rise behind him, spurring him on as his hind section felt like it was being slow roasted.

The rumbling intensified and Shimmer felt the savage reverberation followed by a great thump.

A voice, deep as thunder and as terrifying as Sombra’s ire, rolled through his skull. “I have awoken!”

“Crap!” he said. He made it up the top of the stairs and bolted for what he thought was the exit. The darkness was gone, replaced by the same eerie white orbs on top of what he thought were pillars.

“Where are the thralls? I demand a thorough clean.”

“Double crap!” Shimmer spotted the large corridor leading up, and raced for it.

He heard crashing behind him. And then the dragon roared, its screech pressing his skull. His ears felt like they shattered and pain overwhelmed all senses. Shimmer fell and slid to a stop as he grabbed his ears with his hooves and screamed.

Mighty wing beats pummelled him with air as he crawled towards the dim light of the cavernous door.

Not daring to look back, Shimmer pushed himself onto his weary legs and through sheer force of will, pushed himself back into a gallop. The walls closed in as he entered the corridor.

“I see you, thief.”

Shimmer whinnied and darted right and through one of the pony sized doors. He barged past a skeleton and then another, and took cover.

“Did you think you could hide from me?” The voice said from outside. “Did you think me that stupid that I would not notice you?”

Shimmer felt pinpricks run up his spine, a sure sign of powerful magic.

“You should give up, submit to me, and I may let you live.” The voice was smooth, feminine and highly smug. What happened to change its voice so?

“You should…” the voice faltered. “Wh-what happened here? My thralls…” The creature roared, “What did you do?”

Shimmer lifted his head above the old, ruined bed that had become his shelter. The creature stood, gaze frozen on a line of pony skeletons lining the wall. She –and he knew it was a she from the slimness of her muzzle and her slender form—glided over to the long fallen ponies, her ruby red tail swishing and violently destroying the unfortunate furniture in a cloud of splinters. She stood only twice the height of Shimmer, but although she had four legs, she chose to walk on two.

Her slitted eyes, burning like coals, must have spotted the rusted blades too far gone to be of any use among the dust and bones. “You fools…” she muttered.

Shimmer took his moment hopped onto the bed and launched himself at the miniature dragon thing. Her gaze locked onto him, pure fury radiating from them like light. Her wings flared and she flew backwards as she slashed wildly at Shimmer. But he was too close.

Shimmer collided with the Dragoness and they both fell into a tumble. Her razor sharp claws scratched along his armour, and ripped one side of his saddlebags. Coins spilled out of the bag and clattered all over the place. Shimmer controlled their roll and, with a vicious buck, leapt off the dragon. He heard the dragon wheeze out choked breath before he rounded the corner.

He ran for dear life, sheer terror fuelling his muscles to push harder than ever before. He heard the cries of the beast behind him, as savage as it ever was. His ears locked against his head, he thanked whatever God was watching over him. He saw the distant reflections of real light bouncing off the surfaces. Perhaps he would make it after all.

“Thief!” came the harrowing cry of the beast below, now back to its original deep andf truly haunting form. “You stole it. You stole it! I will get you. I will break you. I will consume you while you still breathe. Thief!”

Shimmer did not bother to gather his things as he passed the warmth of his campfire. He felt the surge of air push him onwards. The thing was airborne again.

He sprinted through the door, one half of his saddlebag banging heavily at his side. His lungs burnt and his legs cried protest, but the screaming behind him and the rapidly approaching forest spurred him onwards.

“I will make you submit! If it is the last thing I do!”

He jumped through into the welcomeing safety of the squelchy mud and thick tree cover. Immediately the insects began to feed, drawn to the sweat marring his fur. Panting heavily, Shimmer turned to see the arrowlike form of the dragon burst through doorway. It spread its wings, covering the temple with its shadowy form. It circled the perimeter, its gaze almost locking onto him as it passed.

And then it spat fire.

Forest went up like it were kindling. Even from his cover, Shimmer felt the heat bathing his face. Realising that he was not safe here. Shimmer turned tail and made for the bog. He laughed maniacally as he trotted into the hoof deep mud.

He had survived an attack from an ancient, long dead beast, and he lived! And, not only that, he had a bag full of gems and gold. It had been totally worth it.