More than silver and gold.
The boy stood at the entrance to the cave, uncertainly staring into the gloom. He shifted nervously, turning the short sword in his hands before straightening up and edging forward. A few tentative steps closer, and he was just gingerly crossing the threshold, holding his blade aloft in preparation for sudden attacks. Fortunately, he was now within the cave, and it appeared to be lacking in unexpected death.
Breathing a sigh of relief that nothing had happened to him, the boy observed his surroundings. The cave was roomy, and the first thing he noticed was how clean the area seemed to be. There was no dirt strewn about, and the floor and ceiling were smooth, completely devoid of the typical spikes hanging above or protruding from the ground below that adorned any other cave he had ever heard of.
The walls were smooth and polished, possibly by dragonfire. Occasionally, the pure surface was marred by a gemstone embedded into the wall, glowing with a soft blue light. He pondered on the almost unnatural immaculateness, for the dragon had clearly gone to some considerable time and effort making the cave look nice, but eventually moved on, striding into the dim tunnels beyond.
As he walked, he reflected on what drove him to seek out the most terrible predator to roam the land. It had been his ambition, ever since he was a toddler, to become a famed knight; one of Princess Celestia's protectors. But he'd always been stuck helping his sister and tending to her books.
But recently he'd been hearing stories of a truly monstrous beast, a terrible wyrm who had stolen many valuable gems and precious metals. Slaying such a creature would surely earn him the position he desired, and a place in the annals of history. He'd be a sir, or possibly even a lord!
But only if he survived, and managed to defeat the dragon. He pulled his sword out of the scabbard on his hip, and looked it over. It was cast iron, older than its bearer, with cracked edges; it resembled more saw than sword. He hadn't been able to afford better, and had not much in the way of armour either; merely some rusted shoulderpads and a slightly sliced pair of gauntlets. None of which would be particularly effective against claws or fire.
The odds weren't in his favour it seemed, but there was no reward without risk. And despite the huge chance of disembowelment or incineration, success over the beast would result in a reward worthy of any dragonslayer.
His musings had brought him into a larger chamber, one that split into three separate tunnels, one heading to the left, one to the right and one going straight ahead. Set above the left tunnel was an amethyst, glistening softly with a vibrant violet light, sending coloured beams into its shaft. The furthest right tunnel contained a sapphire bluer than the sea and sky, it’s roiling gleam piercing the soul. And the final, middle tunnel held a flawless white diamond, larger and brighter than its peers, shining like the heavens themselves. He headed to the left tunnel and peered in, but it contained no lightstones and beyond the purple shimmer was pitch black. Unsure, he went toward the right entrance, and found a similar state.
As he walked toward the middle hole, a terrible cry rang through the caverns, freezing him in place and chilling his blood. As the shriek died down, he snatched his blade from where it had slipped his grasp onto the stone floor, clattering loudly. Wielding it somewhat unsteadily now, he staggered forward, certain the foul creature lay just before him.
He blundered into the cavern walls a few times, the narrow, twisting path and lack of a light source proving to be his bane, but ahead of him there was a whisper of a glimmer, beckoning him forward. He could swear he heard a woman's voice. Maybe the dragon had stolen a maiden! If he were to rescue her, that would go some way to his knighthood, he was sure.
Stumbling slightly, he continued toward the ever-alluring glint, until at last it bathed him in it's brilliant glare. He blinked to clear the spot that floated in front of his eyes, and stared into the dragon's hoard.
It was not, as dragons are wont to do, piled up haphazardly into a heap with little regard for its components. Each piece of treasure was stored in a neat little area, away from the other items. There were racks of jewels, each stone gleaming with vivid colour, arrayed like a rainbow. Small piles of coins were piled by value, origin and date. There were ores and bars of various manner of metals and a few pieces of armour lay upon wooden mannequins.
Curiously, there was also a rather large pile of fabrics, and clothing that made the robes worn by the greatest of monarchs appear to be rags . A rather ornate mirror also stood nearby, studded with gems like a glittering rainbow. There did not seem to be a girl anywhere he could see. He hoped, if it was indeed a woman he heard, she had not been eaten by the savage beast. That wouldn't reflect well on him, he knew.
And finally, in the midst of this wealth stood a small drake, a mere head or so larger than the boy himself, facing away from the tunnels the aspiring knight had appeared from. It's scales were of ivory, with a pearlescent shine. A large pair of wings lay curled on it’s back, a ridge of violet spines lying between them, running from the tip of his diamond shaped tail to the top of his skull, which was also adorned with several curved horns and a rounded pair of fins.
The boy gripped his sword harder and steeled himself. Though the dragon was considerably smaller than he had been anticipating, he thought this to work in his favour. It would certainly be a fairer fight. He took a deep breath, before calling out to the creature. "Dragon, your reign of terror is ended! Face me, and know your doom!" That sounded suitably knighty, he thought.
The drake let out a small noise of confusion, and curled around towards him. He observed the pale, sky blue underscales and it's deep sapphire eyes, which were emphasized by a light blue on and above its eyelids, boring into him. He could now see it was in fact a dragoness, which explained a fair bit. She regarded him coolly, but with a hint of uncertainty.
"Don't you know it's rude to break into a lady's home?" she asked icily.
He stared at her, enchanted by her voice as though an angel had flown from Heaven and sang to him. "I... Um." The entranced would-be soldier stuttered, caught out of his depth now. "I didn't know you were a lady..." He trailed off under her arched eyebrow as the snowy dragon rebuked him.
"Oh alright then, that's perfectly fine now, isn't it? Makes all the difference." She puffed out a small cloud of smoke from her nostrils as the boy cringed. He felt strange, her disapproval almost hurt him.
"Well, I can see you wish to fight me," she pointed a claw at the ancient blade, "so get on with it. I haven't got all day you know, it takes time to look this good." However, all thoughts of harming the dragoness were far from his mind now. He wobbled in place, and sheathed his sword.
"I'm sorry. I had heard there was a gigantic, murderous leviathan here, but I can see I've made a mistake. There's no way a creature as beautiful as you would kill and steal."
His words placated the dragon somewhat. "Quite so. A lady doesn't partake in such barbarian actions like some common bandit. But you've still invaded my boudoir, threatened me with weapons and taken up my rather valuable time." He winced a little, but had an idea.
"I'll make it up to you. Dragons like gems, right?" The dragon looked at him, then at the rows of gems on her shelves.
"Well, yes, of course. We eat them, you know. When we don't eat meat, that is." He shivered slightly, imagining horrors and sharp, shredding teeth.
He reached into his pocket and felt the cool, smooth surface of one of his prized possessions. He'd owned it since he was a child, having discovered it one day while exploring a wood. He'd always loved it's brilliant crimson hue and strange near heart shape, often taking it out to gaze upon it. He deliberated for a moment, before making up his mind. "Well, I have a gem I can give you, to make up for trespassing."
He pulled the jewel out, and held it before the dragoness. As he did so, a pang of loss beat in his heart, but he was resolute. The drake appraised the stone, disbelieving. "Is- is that a fire ruby?" She exclaimed, all traces of annoyance replaced by surprised elation.
The lad didn't know. "Not a clue, sorry. Found it when I was just an infant. I always liked it 'cause it was shiny, but you have it now."
She pulled back. "No, I couldn't possibly. It's yours, and I have many gems besides." But her face said otherwise as she hungrily surveyed the fire ruby, claws contracting and uncontracting.
The young man chuckled. "It's fine. It's just going to waste on me; you'll enjoy it more than I ever could, I'm sure. I bet it'll taste good."
The dragon gasped. "Taste? I could never eat such a beautiful gem, especially not a present from you, my dear...?" She trailed off uncertainly.
"Oh! I'm Spike, Spike Sparkle." He grinned at her.
"And I am Rarity."
Spike's grin took on a dreamy tint. "Rarity... A beautiful name for a beautiful dragon." A light pink appeared on the dragoness's cheeks and she smiled, showing a row of dainty, yet sharp fangs.
"Thank you, dear Spikey-Wikey. I'll wear this ruby in a necklace. Such a magnificent present deserves nothing less."
She reached towards her metal pile, grabbing a large golden bar so pure her talons bit into it slightly. She breathed a blue fire onto the ingot, melting it, and then twisted it into shape. Spike watched the skilled hands shift and turn in amazement, and in almost no time at all she had a necklace. She pushed the ruby into the still-hot gold, and it melded around it, setting it into place.
She waited for the completed amulet to cool down a bit, and then placed it around her neck, minding her ridges. "Spikey-Wikey? Be a dear and push it shut, please." The teen walked around her, minding her tail, and clasped the two ends together, his gauntlets thankfully stopping his fingers from burning.
Rarity made her way over to the mirror, turning side to side and admiring herself. She faced the human. "Well, Spikey-Wikey? What do you think?" She looked up at him with her big blue eyes fluttering. He was enthralled. The burning scarlet of the ruby contrasted perfectly with her pale scales, giving her an almost ethereal appearance.
"You look absolutely amazing, Rarity. I'm glad I gave the ruby to you."
"You're such a charmer, Spike." The flattered dragoness replied. "I think you deserve a reward for such a thoughtful gift." The young man rubbed his foot along the ground shyly.
"I don't need a reward, Rarity." But the drake simply smiled at him, before leaning forward and planting a deep kiss on his lips. He stood frozen for a moment, before breaking out into a smile of his own. "Now that's what I call a reward."
Author's Note
Just a little piece inspired by the title picture. A humongous thanks to my prereader MrMinimii for being such a useful chap, correcting little mistakes and showing me where bits and bobs could be improved.
More than emerald and ruby.
Spike stared at the treeline, the wooden border to the twisted, jungle-like Everfree forest. It was foreboding, menacing. He did not belong, the leafy denizens seemed to whisper upon the wind. Yet, at the same time he was filled with an almost drawn feeling, as though he was being pulled into the dark and unnatural woodland.
He knew that within the heart of the dangerous and sprawling thicket lay a prize more than worth the nigh-suicidal trek, for he had been there, once. Though it had been sheer luck that he had wandered by it, especially without being attacked by something which might dine upon human flesh.
But he had brought along his blade and armour for that very purpose, not with the intention, as he previously had, of slaying some monstrous felbeast for glory, but mere self-defence. Hopefully the antique sword would provide enough protection, should it become necessary. Although he wouldn't be terribly surprised if it broke upon whatever he struck. Terrified and very probably dead, but not surprised.
Yet what-ifs, could-be’s, and uncertain prophecies only delayed his quest. Today he would once-more seek out the dragon of the Everfree Forest. She had preyed on his heart and mind ever since that bizarre and unexpected meeting and he could no-longer contain his fervent desire to once more gaze upon her, to admire her snow-white form whilst sitting by a roaring fire and talking for hours on end, feeling the white light of time flicker by.
However, the vast swathes of foliage hindered his path. Every vine and root he cleaved (with some difficulty, he was not as strong as he’d have liked,) had two more lying in wait behind it. The canopy was silent for the most part, the evening still as the world settled down to sleep, but occasionally various eldritch cries split the fragile barrier. Shadows were prevalent as dusk slowly edged toward total darkness, the trees shifting and turning. Who knew what lay in the darkness? Thankfully, he carried a branch wrapped in cloth to use as a torch.
The dense bramble and fern gave way to single trees, giants who had stood the test of time. Scars and tears had rent their thick trunks, but it would take even the mightiest woodsman with the strongest of axes months to bring these Kings of Plants to their feet. Not even the Apple Family farmers, well renowned in village for their knowledge of all manner of vegetation, even Big Macintosh who was widely regarded as the strongest man around, would attempt to tackle such behemoths.
And the lords of the forest knew their invincibility, each creak and shudder they gave served only to reinforce their point. Every moment he stood on their land was a trespass to be paid for. Every blow he landed among them and their kin was to be atoned. Every step he took was treacherous, now. The ground grew soggy and slippery, the mud giving way with ease. He had to keep his eyes out, lest he trip over a rock or step into an unseen hole.
And it was while he was carefully choosing his path that something caught his eye on the ground not two metres from him. A spatter of red lay amongst the rotting, brown leaves long since shed. He retrieved one and brought it to his face, squinting in the dim torch-light. The crimson stain was a liquid he was familiar with. Blood. But just what manner of creature had suffered a wound?
His answer was at hand, however. A soft growl was carried on the wind, startlingly close. He glanced wildly, and up ahead of him stood a silhouette, hardly visible to his eyes. He jammed the torch into the mud and hefted the cracked sword in both hands, adrenaline coursing through his veins. The growl was repeated, louder this time; the shade before him was ambling toward the light.
“D-don’t come any closer! I’m armed!” Warned the trembling teenager, looking to avoid a fight if possible. Unfortunately, the figure paid no attention to the stuttered words that fell from the trembling mouth and stepped into the light, revealing itself to be a bull Manticore, the very thing he was hoping to avoid.
Manticores were known for their violent nature, and this one had been injured; a bunch of what seemed to be splinters were stuck in various parts of one of it’s paw and leg, possibly from a fight with a Timber Wolf or even several.
However, the injury wasn't serious enough to hamper it in any way, and he wasn't fast enough to run away with his armour on. His best bet was to stand and fight. Fight with a lump of metal barely sharp enough to cut apples against a fully-grown, male apex predator that was almost as big and weighed more than he did. The odds did not look good.
“Make or break time, Spike. Do or die. You were going to fight a dragon, what’s an overgrown scorpion-cat?” He muttered to himself. The manticore hissed in response, it’s snarl revealing the razor-sharp fangs within. Venom dripped off the three-inch long stinger, primed to deliver a fatal overdose.
The beast tensed, gripping the mud as best as it could, digging in the hook-like claws and before the teen could react had pounced, smashing into the green-haired boy and sending him straight to the floor.
Fortunately for Spike, the manticore had not landed on him or knocked away his sword, and so he slashed wildly at the monstrous animal. The sword caught it on the wounded paw, slightly slicing through the flesh of the wingéd lion. It roared, a deep and primal sound that chilled the blood in his veins.
Blood-red eyes glared down at the hapless teenager and it raised it’s uninjured paw, raking it’s claws across his chest and shoulder. Most of the damage was deflected by his armour, but the metal caved and gave way under the monstrous force of the swipe. Yet still, some deep wounds had been inflicted and the boy couldn't help but yell out in terror and pain.
The brutish beast poised it’s toxic barb to strike a killing blow into his stomach. He had barely any time to react to the deadly attack, but managed to roll away in the nick of time, the point being driven deep into the ground a hair’s-breadth away from him.
Once more he took up his sword, which had been dropped after the first attack, and swung it with all his might, severing the chitinous tail in half. It spewed out cobalt-blue blood in a torrent, showering the ground.
Now the manticore was really, really annoyed. Saliva dripped off it’s exposed canines as it roared so loud the sound reverberated off the trees and rang in his ears, dazing him.
It leapt forward once more, catching him on his injured shoulder. It bit hard into the already damaged armour, crushing and spearing it with it’s mighty teeth. Spike screamed once more, and knew for certain this was to be his end. He’d fought a foe bigger than him and dealt it some severe blows. A noble death, in his mind. Tougher men than him had fallen to manticores, after all.
Fate, however, had different plans in mind for the aspiring knight. The battle had not gone unheard, the cries given out had spread far out in the forest. Just as Spike was preparing for oblivion, another growl had rang out, different to the manticore’s angry howls. Through his dimming sight, Spike saw a blur race out from the trees and strike the beast that was attempting to devour him and knocking it away.
His enemy and his saviour grappled, but the fight was one-sided. The manticore had been seriously injured, it’s greatest weapon rent from it’s body. There was a rush of air and the copse was lit up by a brilliant light. The manticore let out one final, anguished screech before falling silent forever. The only sound was the crackle of flames that spread over the charred carcass of the once-proud predator.
Exhausted from fighting and pale from blood-loss, Spike’s eyes slid shut and he knew no more.
Author's Note
A big thanks to MrMinimii, for prereading, and to Diabolic Gnome for providing some assistance.
