The Pony Scrolls: Empires

THE BOOK OF THE DOVAHKEY

By Lupa the Wise

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It is said that true heroes no longer exist in this world. Sadly, this statement is quite true. In this day and age, true heroes have been all but forgotten by the ponies of the civilized world. There are still the adventurers, those who would seek excitement and riches throughout the world, but no longer any true heroes, those willing to risk their lives, and in some cases even give them up, for the greater good of ponykind rather than their own needs and desires. This was also the case many centuries ago, in a time where ponies were still new to this great land. Soon after the founding of our country, Equestria, by the Six and their Fire of Friendship, war quickly found us. The Dragons had lived in this land before our time, and were not willing to hand it over to, what they considered, a race of weaklings such as us. They fought for over two decades, constantly pushing at the borders and threatening to raze Equestria with legions of followers and fields of flame.

However, in what was our darkest hour, when all hope of victory seemed lost, a true hero, born from a pact between the Dragon-God-King, Ahkrindrog-Dov, and the Pony Commander, Celestia, who had taken on the burden of raising the sun with her immense magical prowess for the coming dawn from the God-King, in exchange for his aid against his own armies, armies which no longer followed him, but his son, Feynal, who sought to usurp his father's power and completely obliterate the presence of ponykind, leaving only his rule. However, Ahkrindrog-Dov, in his final moments, gave Celestia the Gift of His Magic, transforming her into the Princess as we know her today, and spread the other remnants of his power out over the land, only to be gained by the worthy. With his incredible power added to hers, she was able to defeat the dragon army and seal Feynal away at the End of Time, hopefully never to bother the ponies of Equestria again. Celestia, realizing that no one pony should hold the power that she possessed, split the Gift of His Magic with her younger sister, Luna, allowing her to control the bodies of the Night. For a time, all was peaceful in Equestria. But, believing herself to be the best choice to truly usher in the Golden Age, Luna left her sister's side, and the Lunar Rebellion was born. Now, the Moon and Stars sit in the sky both day and night, as Celestia struggles to simply keep them steady, and the land is engulfed in chaos and turmoil. And even now, some whisper of the ancient prophecies of the Elder Scrolls, of the Dragon Lord's return, and of the arrival of the first true hero of Equestria, the one with the Second Gift, the Gift of His Blood. He is the chosen of the Dragon God-King. He is the one they fear. He is Dovahkey. He is the Dragonpony.

And this is his story.

~-~-~-~

"Hey? You awake?"

Iron Heart slowly opened his eyes. Everything was blurry. As the images swimming around in his field of vision cleared, he could make out the sky, a beautiful palette of orange and yellow that transitioned into a dark purple as the sun set, the ever-present stars and moon there as usual.

It was evening.

The heavens illuminated the approaching execution platform, the dimming light over the horizon highlighting the glistening bloodstains surrounding the guillotine. Iron quickly spun his head around, scanning the cart as the platform grew ever closer.

Bloom wasn't there. His sister was gone.

Iron kept himself from choking out a cry. Where was she? Where did she go? Where WAS he? Hundreds of questions raced through his mind as he forced himself to focus. He knew that scanning his surroundings was the most viable option available right now, what with his hooves bound and his mouth gagged as they were.

He looked around the cart once more. This time, he noticed a pony sitting in the back corner, hidden from the sight of all but the most vigilant. He was clearly a stallion, and his bright green eyes, his only distinguishing feature in the shadows, seemed to glow in the darkness surrounding him.

"You. You aren't a Rebel. Don't look like Empire either. So they're taking civilians now? Poor townsfolk who just want to make a living? Tch....this war...."

Iron just stared at him, not having the slightest clue about what he was talking about. He seemingly picked up on Iron's confusion, and responded in earnest.

"...You aren't from around here, are you? Probably came from some tiny village out in the middle of who-knows-where. That seems to be where a lot of recruits for both sides come from nowadays. But then, you don't look like a recruit to me. I'm gonna guess you did somethin' pretty bad to get yourself a free shave from the neck down. What was it? Steal from someone important? Kill a few guards?"

That last one made Iron's head droop down a bit.  He remembered how they came to take her, to take her away from him, and then.... He didn't like thinking about what came after.

The other stallion was quiet for a moment before continuing. "....Well, I suppose that's your business. If you don't want to elaborate, fine. But then again, you can't really speak right now, so I guess that could be considered a conversation blocker, hmm?"

Iron didn't hear the last bit. He had remembered something important halfway through the stallion's words, something vital.

He still had magic.

He tried to pull the gag from his mouth, but something strange was happening. He could still feel the familiar flow of magic coursing through his horn, but it wasn't going anywhere. It was like the magic was trying to escape, building up pressure, but kept being forced back.

"It's no use, you know." The other pony's words drew Iron out of his state of focus. He looked over at the stallion, whose long, vermilion horn was now revealed, pointing out of the shadows. It was wrapped with what looked like several layers of thin paper, each strip covered in glowing runes from some language. The paper was wrapping his horn from the tip nearly to the bottom, with both ends ending neatly. "They thought ahead, at least. These magic suppression wards are keeping us from doing anything even remotely mystical or 'magic-y'".

Almost immediately after he finishes talking, the cart stops. Iron heard a gruff voice call out from the front. "Alright criminal scum, out of the cart. You've got a date with an axe, and you wouldn't wanna keep a lady waiting, now would ya?"

Iron stood up and walked to the back of the cart, hopping down and landing in what looked like ash. Now that he could full examine his surroundings, Iron could clearly see a layer of ash blanketing the surrounding landscape. Most of the trees in the nearby forest were either untouched or completely covered, and the uneven patches of land in the ash made the entire area feel dirtier somehow. The Sun was still setting, seemingly attempting to capture a glimpse of the gruesome event about to take place.

"Welcome to Haygen, you two. Now get moving!!" The guard with the gruff voice from earlier was now in clear view as well, and he matched Iron's mental picture of him almost flawlessly. He was a heavyset pony, his face covered by a mask and his mane and tail a deep brown. From what could be seen of his coat underneath the layers of chainmail armor, he was a pallid green color. He looked intimidating, most thanks to the massive mace he had out and was holding on his shoulder with a hoof. "You, in the corner back there!" He pointed towards the set of eyes that were, up until recently, chatting like he wouldn't get another chance to. "Get out here!"

That was the first time that Iron actually saw the pony he had been having a conversation with. The thing that stood out the most was his scar. It extended from the bottom of his left eye all the way down to the corner of his mouth, though his eye itself was free of damage. He was tall, not tall enough to dwarf other ponies, but tall enough to make many have to crane their necks when speaking to him. His coat matched his horn, save for patches of dirt here and there blocking a full view of his cinnabar coat. His deep green, nearly black it seemed, mane was was long, obscuring a small portion of his face and touching his legs, and he looked as though he hadn't eaten well in weeks. He couldn't have been more than five years older than Iron was at the time, and yet his powerful, distinct eyes seemed to suggest otherwise.

"........." He was silent all the way up to the platform. At this point, many of the villagers from the surrounding ash-coated houses had come out to watch the executions take place. The moment that the gag was removed from his mouth, Iron began questioning the guards.

"What is this?! Where are we?! Where is my sister?" The questions continued for well over three minutes as the guard prepared the guillotine. "Please, I know why I'm here. I know what I did. But please, PLEASE at least--" The guard promptly shoved the gag back into his mouth. "Ugghh, make it stop. Make it stop! Just- just PLEEAAASE stop talking. Dear Celestia, I need to be getting paid more for this..."  The guard held his hooves to his head for a moment and walked off the platform, swearing to himself.

"You!" Another guard pointed at Iron. The gag was removed from his mouth once more. "Name?"

"I am Iron Heart of--"

"Yes, yes, you are from outside of Equestria. The information is here." This guard looked like he'd really rather be at home with a bellyful of mead than listening to prisoners whine and complain about getting their heads chopped off.

"Actually, I--"

"Any last words before your head rolls?"

"Actually, I--"

"Mmmhmm, no last words then?"

"What? But---"

"Strap him in!"

Another guard, the one who had first gotten him off the wagon, led Iron to the stocks. His head was shoved through, and his hooves locked in place. Iron struggled, but it was no use. The stocks were too strong. He could tilt his head up just enough to see the blade hanging high above his neck. 'It's no use. I can't do it. This is it.' Iron could only think to himself repeatedly as the priest in front of him read him his last rites.

"....and be guided unto the glory of Sovengarde in death as was sought in life." The priest, wrapped in black robes and holding a lantern due to the darkening sky, had finished. It was time.

A roar was heard in the distance. It was faint, but unmistakably powerful.

"What was that?" The villagers crowded around began to lose their composure. Iron could only feel anger towards them. 'Fools. They come to see a pony's head lopped off for entertainment, and have the gall to be frightened by something as insignificant as an echo?' Yet, despite his anger, Iron could not truly spite them. Rather, he pitied them for living life as they did. Being afraid of the unknown, unable to react to sudden change, was something that Iron himself could understand. He began to cry. He cried for his wasted life. He could have done so much more. He cried for his friends. He cried for his mother, who wept for her children to come back. But most of all, he cried for his sister, who he would never see again. He didn't know if he would see her in the next life, or if the next life even existed. All he could do was focus on her, keep her in his mind until the blade fell.

The executioner, clad in black from head to hoof with a cloth over his face, moved forward.

This was it.

And then, just before the lever could be pulled, fate acted.

The roar from earlier was back. It sounded much closer, and the faint sound of wings moving in the air could be made out.

"What...." The guard didn't have time to say much more. The beast dove out of the sky and landed on a large house, causing its very foundation to shudder.

It's roar was deafening. The ponies gathered around the platform ran and screamed in terror, and the guards attempted to keep order. With all of the chaos keeping everypony occupied, the stallion prisoner with the scar hurried over to the guillotine. He spoke in a hurried voice, as they had a small period of time where escape would be possible.

"Now listen to me," He said. "I will get you out of here, but first, I need to go find a weapon. Do NOT struggle. The blade over your neck is hanging on a thread as is. Now--"

Before he could finish telling Iron his plan, the beast directed its roar at the both of them. It stared at Iron with its huge, catlike eyes, as if it could see his very being, his very soul, and roared again before beginning to speak in a language that hadn't been heard in centuries.

"DOVAHKEY!! AL DO DOVAH!!! DII FAH FEYNAL, FAAL LOT DIIV DROG!!"

Iron couldn't possibly understand, but somehow, when the word "Feynal" was said, he knew what it meant. He knew who it was, but he didn't, as if the knowledge was waiting in his mind, ready to be unlocked.

The beast drew back it's head as it shouted at the two.

"FUS RO DAH!!!"

The world seemed to spin as both Iron and the prisoner, not willing to make any sudden movements at the beast's appearance, flew through the air, the tattered pieces of the guillotine following closely behind.

Iron hit a wall and fell to the ground. He blacked out for a moment, regaining consciousness soon enough to see the small village go to hell around him. Ponies were running in every direction, trying to take cover or hide in their homes. A few guards were attempting to rush the creature, but to no avail. The beast simply picked them up in its massive maw, and either threw them throughout the area or swallowed them whole. The bloody, mangled body of the disinterested guard landed with a thud on the ground next to Iron. He knew what war looked like. He had seen dead bodies before. But the sight before him nearly caused him to vomit. The pony's stomach had been ripped open, his upper half nearly completely severed from his hindquarters. His spine was clearly visible, and his organs and bones that had not already torn out or ripped from him by the force of the throw were spilling out of him. Iron swallowed, steeled himself, and forced himself to concentrate despite the gory mess. The guard still had a blade, though in the fall it had been lodged in his side, stuck between two ribs.

The massive creature seemingly laughed as more and more guards threw themselves at it, attempting to kill the beast with sheer numbers.

"HAH!! MEY!! PAH FEN DII, AHRK DAAR GOL IS HIN QOTH!!!

With that, the creature shouted another word, this one too difficult to make out. The area was ignited, and fire raged across the other side of the village. Ponies screamed and ran around in circles, trying desperately to quell the flames. The seemingly demonic being flew up into the sky and slammed back into the ground, having reacquired its target.

As it prepared to lunge, a bright flash of energy flew from out of view and struck the monster in the eye. The creature's bronze scales are streaked with blood from the wound, and it crashes to the ground, roaring in pain.

Iron looked over to see the other pony, his coat now streaked with blood instead of dirt and his horn free of the mystical rune paper wrapping it.

"Come on!! In here!!" He yelled out as he directed his attention to a gigantic castle keep. Iron made a mad dash for the castle as the creature, clutching his gored eye with his claw, screeching in rage and running after him, tried to keep up.

"DII!!! DII!!! DII!!!!!

Iron barely made it through the reinforced doors before the other stallion crashed into them and rattled the building. Both ponies ran through the keep, looking for some escape, ANY escape. The other stallion managed to find a door into the tunnels running underneath the castle. "Hurry!! It's getting through!" He cried out. Both of them leapt down the stairs and slammed the wooden door closed behind them, the other pony magically bolting it to keep the beast out. As they ran through the keep's underside, they could hear the rage of the beast as it roared above, demolishing all in its path as it searched for its prey.... before its prey could become the predator.